Sermons and Devotions upon Emergent Occasions

Source

Source: Project Gutenberg #23772; Internet Archive donnessermons00donn Source URL: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23772 ; https://archive.org/details/donnessermons00donn Public domain basis: Public-domain seventeenth-century Donne texts; Donne's Sermons: Selected Passages, ed. Logan Pearsall Smith (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1919), published before 1931. Coverage: Partial: complete Devotions upon Emergent Occasions and Death's Duel (Gutenberg #23772), plus the 1919 Logan Pearsall Smith selection of passages from the sermons (Internet Archive OCR). Full sermons beyond Death's Duel are represented by excerpts only.

Devotions upon Emergent Occasions; Together with Death's Duel

# Devotions upon Emergent Occasions; Together with Death's Duel

Produced by Stacy Brown, John Hagerson, Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

John Donne Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions

JOHN DONNE

DEVOTIONS

UPON EMERGENT OCCASIONS

_Together with_

Death'S Duel Ann Arbor Paperbacks

DEATH'S DUEL

ANN ARBOR PAPERBACKS

_The University of Michigan Press_

First edition as an

ANN ARBOR PAPERBACK 1959

Published in the United States of America by the University of Michigan and simultaneously in Toronto, Canada, by Ambassador Books, Ltd.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Contents

CONTENTS

THE LIFE OF DR. JOHN DONNE v

DEVOTIONS 1

DEATH'S DUEL 161

_THE LIFE OF DR. JOHN DONNE_

(_Taken from the life by Izaak Walton_).

Master John Donne was born in London, in the year 1573, of good and virtuous parents: and, though his own learning and other multiplied merits may justly appear sufficient to dignify both himself and his posterity, yet the reader may be pleased to know that his father was masculinely and lineally descended from a very ancient family in Wales, where many of his name now live, that deserve and have great reputation in that country.

By his mother he was descended of the family of the famous and learned Sir Thomas More, sometime Lord Chancellor of England: as also, from that worthy and laborious Judge Rastall, who left posterity the vast Statutes of the Law of this nation most exactly abridged.

He had his first breeding in his father's house, where a private tutor had the care of him, until the tenth year of his age; and, in his eleventh year, was sent to the University of Oxford, having at that time a good command both of the French and Latin tongue. This, and some other of his remarkable abilities, made one then give this censure of him: That this age had brought forth another Picus Mirandula; of whom story says, that he was rather born than made wise by study.

There he remained for some years in Hart Hall, having, for the advancement of his studies, tutors of several sciences to attend and instruct him, till time made him capable, and his learning expressed in public exercises, declared him worthy, to receive his first degree in the schools, which he forbore by advice from his friends, who, being for their religion of the Romish persuasion, were conscionably averse to some parts of the oath that is always tendered at those times, and not to be refused by those that expect the titulary honour of their studies.

About the fourteenth year of his age he was transplanted from Oxford to Cambridge, where, that he might receive nourishment from both soils, he staid till his seventeenth year; all which time he was a most laborious student, often changing his studies, but endeavouring to take no degree, for the reasons formerly mentioned.

About the seventeenth year of his age he was removed to London, and then admitted into Lincoln's Inn, with an intent to study the law, where he gave great testimonies of his wit, his learning, and of his improvement in that profession; which never served him for other use than an ornament and self-satisfaction.

His father died before his admission into this society; and, being a merchant, left him his portion in money. (It was £3,000.) His mother, and those to whose care he was committed, were watchful to improve his knowledge, and to that end appointed him tutors both in the mathematics, and in all the other liberal sciences, to attend him. But, with these arts, they were advised to instil into him particular principles of the Romish Church; of which those tutors professed, though secretly, themselves to be members.

They had almost obliged him to their faith; having for their advantage, besides many opportunities, the example of his dear and pious parents, which was a most powerful persuasion, and did work much upon him, as he professeth in his preface to his "Pseudo-Martyr," a book of which the reader shall have some account in what follows.

He was now entered into the eighteenth year of his age; and at that time had betrothed himself to no religion that might give him any other denomination than a Christian. And reason and piety had both persuaded him that there could be no such sin as schism, if an adherence to some visible Church were not necessary.

About the nineteenth year of his age, he, being then unresolved what religion to adhere to, and considering how much it concerned his soul to choose the most orthodox, did therefore,--though his youth and health promised him a long life--to rectify all scruples that might concern that, presently lay aside all study of the law, and of all other sciences that might give him a denomination; and began seriously to survey and consider the body of Divinity, as it was then controverted betwixt the Reformed and the Roman Church. And, as God's blessed Spirit did then awaken him to the search, and in that industry did never forsake him--they be his own words (in his preface to "Pseudo-Martyr")--so he calls the same Holy Spirit to witness this protestation; that in that disquisition and search he proceeded with humility and diffidence in himself; and by that which he took to be the safest way; namely, frequent prayers, and an indifferent affection to both parties; and, indeed, Truth had too much light about her to be hid from so sharp an inquirer; and he had too much ingenuity not to acknowledge he had found her.

Being to undertake this search, he believed the Cardinal Bellarmine to be the best defender of the Roman cause, and therefore betook himself to the examination of his reasons. The cause was weighty, and wilful delays had been inexcusable both towards God and his own conscience: he therefore proceeded in this search with all moderate haste, and about the twentieth year of his age did show the then Dean of Gloucester--whose name my memory hath now lost--all the Cardinal's works marked with many weighty observations under his own hand; which works were bequeathed by him, at his death, as a legacy to a most dear friend.

About a year following he resolved to travel: and the Earl of Essex going first to Cales, and after the Island voyages, the first anno 1596, the second 1597, he took the advantage of those opportunities, waited upon his Lordship, and was an eye-witness of those happy and unhappy employments.

But he returned not back into England till he had staid some years, first in Italy and then in Spain, where he made many useful observations of those countries, their laws and manner of government, and returned perfect in their languages.

The time that he spent in Spain was, at his first going into Italy, designed for travelling to the Holy Land, and for viewing Jerusalem and the Sepulchre of our Saviour. But at his being in the furthest parts of Italy, the disappointment of company, or of a safe convoy, or the uncertainty of returns of money into those remote parts, denied him that happiness, which he did often occasionally mention with a deploration.

Not long after his return into England, that exemplary pattern of gravity and wisdom, the Lord Ellesmere, then Keeper of the Great Seal, the Lord Chancellor of England, taking notice of his learning, languages, and other abilities, and much affecting his person and behaviour, took him to be his chief secretary; supposing and intending it to be an introduction to some more weighty employment in the State; for which, his Lordship did often protest, he thought him very fit.

Nor did his Lordship, in this time of Master Donne's attendance upon him, account him to be so much his servant as to forget he was his friend; and, to testify it, did always use him with much courtesy, appointing him a place at his own table, to which he esteemed his company and discourse to be a great ornament.

He continued that employment for the space of five years, being daily useful, and not mercenary to his friend. During which time he--I dare not say unhappily--fell into such a liking, as,--with her approbation,--increased into a love, with a young gentlewoman that lived in that family, who was niece to the Lady Ellesmere, and daughter to Sir George More, then Chancellor of the Garter and Lieutenant of the Tower.

Sir George had some intimation of it, and, knowing prevention to be a great part of wisdom, did therefore remove her with much haste from that to his own house at Lothesley, in the County of Surrey; but too late, by reason of some faithful promises which were so interchangeably passed, as never to be violated by either party.

These promises were only known to themselves; and the friends of both parties used much diligence, and many arguments, to kill or cool their affections to each other; but in vain, for love is a flattering mischief that hath denied aged and wise men a foresight of those evils that too often prove to be the children of that blind father; a passion that carries us to commit errors with as much ease as whirlwinds move feathers, and begets in us an unwearied industry to the attainment of what we desire. And such an industry did, notwithstanding much watchfulness against it, bring them secretly together,--I forbear to tell the manner how,--and at last to a marriage too, without the allowance of those friends whose approbation always was, and ever will be necessary, to make even a virtuous love become lawful.

And that the knowledge of their marriage might not fall, like an unexpected tempest, on those that were unwilling to have it so; and that pre-apprehensions might make it the less enormous when it was known, it was purposely whispered into the ears of many that it was so, yet by none that could affirm it. But, to put a period to the jealousies of Sir George--doubt often begetting more restless thoughts than the certain knowledge of what we fear--the news was, in favour to Mr. Donne, and with his allowance, made known to Sir George, by his honourable friend and neighbour Henry, Earl of Northumberland; but it was to Sir George so immeasurably unwelcome, and so transported him that, as though his passion of anger and inconsideration might exceed theirs of love and error, he presently engaged his sister, the Lady Ellesmere, to join with him to procure her lord to discharge Mr. Donne of the place he held under his Lordship. This request was followed with violence; and though Sir George were remembered that errors might be over punished, and desired therefore to forbear till second considerations might clear some scruples, yet he became restless until his suit was granted and the punishment executed. And though the Lord Chancellor did not, at Mr. Donne's dismission, give him such a commendation as the great Emperor Charles the Fifth did of his Secretary Eraso, when he parted with him to his son and successor, Philip the Second, saying, "That in his Eraso, he gave to him a greater gift than all his estate, and all the kingdoms which he then resigned to him;" yet the Lord Chancellor said, "He parted with a friend, and such a Secretary as was fitter to serve a king than a subject."

Immediately after his dismission from his service, he sent a sad letter to his wife to acquaint her with it; and after the subscription of his name, writ,

"John Donne, Anne Donne, Un-done;"

and God knows it proved too true; for this bitter physic of Mr. Donne's dismission, was not enough to purge out all Sir George's choler, for he was not satisfied till Mr. Donne and his sometime compupil in Cambridge, that married him, namely, Samuel Brooke, who was after Doctor in Divinity and Master of Trinity College--and his brother Mr. Christopher Brooke, sometime Mr. Donne's chamber-fellow in Lincoln's Inn, who gave Mr. Donne his wife, and witnessed the marriage, were all committed to three several prisons.

Mr. Donne was first enlarged, who neither gave rest to his body or brain, nor to any friend in whom he might hope to have an interest, until he had procured an enlargement for his two imprisoned friends.

He was now at liberty, but his days were still cloudy; and, being past these troubles, others did still multiply upon him; for his wife was--to her extreme sorrow--detained from him; and though, with Jacob, he endured not a hard service for her, yet he lost a good one, and was forced to make good his title, and to get possession of her by a long and restless suit in law, which proved troublesome and sadly chargeable to him, whose youth, and travel, and needless bounty, had brought his estate into a narrow compass.

It is observed, and most truly, that silence and submission are charming qualities, and work most upon passionate men; and it proved so with Sir George; for these, and a general report of Mr. Donne's merits, together with his winning behaviour,--which, when it would entice, had a strange kind of elegant irresistible art;--these, and time, had so dispassionated Sir George, that, as the world had approved his daughter's choice, so he also could not but see a more than ordinary merit in his new son; and this at last melted him into so much remorse--for love and anger are so like agues as to have hot and cold fits; and love in parents, though it may be quenched, yet is easily rekindled, and expires not till death denies mankind a natural heat--that he laboured his son's restoration to his place; using to that end both his own and his sister's power to her lord; but with no success; for his answer was, "That though he was unfeignedly sorry for what he had done, yet it was inconsistent with his place and credit, to discharge and readmit servants at the request of passionate petitioners."

Sir George's endeavour for Mr. Donne's readmission was by all means to be kept secret:--for men do more naturally reluct for errors than submit to put on those blemishes that attend their visible acknowledgment. But, however, it was not long before Sir George appeared to be so far reconciled as to wish their happiness, and not to deny them his paternal blessing, but yet refused to contribute any means that might conduce to their livelihood.

Mr. Donne's estate was the greatest part spent in many and chargeable travels, books, and dear-bought experience: he out of all employment that might yield a support for himself and wife, who had been curiously and plentifully educated; both their natures generous, and accustomed to confer, and not to receive, courtesies, these and other considerations, but chiefly that his wife was to bear a part in his sufferings, surrounded him with many sad thoughts, and some apparent apprehensions of want.

But his sorrows were lessened and his wants prevented by the seasonable courtesy of their noble kinsman, Sir Francis Wolly, of Pirford in Surrey, who intreated them to a cohabitation with him; where they remained with much freedom to themselves, and equal content to Him, for some years; and as their charge increased--she had yearly a child--so did his love and bounty.

Mr. Donne and his wife continued with Sir Francis Wolly till his death: a little before which time Sir Francis was so happy as to make a perfect reconciliation between Sir George and his forsaken son and daughter; Sir George conditioning, by bond, to pay to Mr. Donne 800_l._ at a certain day, as a portion with his wife, or 20_l._ quarterly for their maintenance, as the interest for it, till the said portion was paid.

Most of those years that he lived with Sir Francis he studied the Civil and Canon Laws; in which he acquired such a perfection, as was judged to hold proportion with many, who had made that study the employment of their whole life.

Sir Francis being dead, and that happy family dissolved, Mr. Donne took for himself a house in Mitcham--near to Croydon in Surrey--a place noted for good air and choice company: there his wife and children remained; and for himself he took lodgings in London, near to Whitehall, whither his friends and occasions drew him very often, and where he was as often visited by many of the nobility and others of this nation, who used him in their counsels of greatest consideration, and with some rewards for his better subsistence.

Nor did our own nobility only value and favour him, but his acquaintance and friendship was sought for by most Ambassadors of foreign nations, and by many other strangers whose learning or business occasioned their stay in this nation.

Thus it continued with him for about two years, all which time his family remained constantly at Mitcham; and to which place he often retired himself, and destined some days to a constant study of some points of controversy betwixt the English and Roman Church, and especially those of Supremacy and Allegiance: and to that place and such studies he could willingly have wedded himself during his life; but the earnest persuasion of friends became at last to be so powerful, as to cause the removal of himself and family to London, where Sir Robert Drewry, a gentleman of a very noble estate, and a more liberal mind, assigned him and his wife an useful apartment in his own large house in Drury Lane, and not only rent free, but was also a cherisher of his studies, and such a friend as sympathized with him and his, in all their joy and sorrows.

At this time of Mr. Donne's and his wife's living in Sir Robert's house, the Lord Hay was, by King James, sent upon a glorious embassy to the then French King, Henry the Fourth; and Sir Robert put on a sudden resolution to accompany him to the French Court, and to be present at his audience there. And Sir Robert put on a sudden resolution to solicit Mr. Donne to be his companion in that journey. And this desire was suddenly made known to his wife, who was then with child, and otherwise under so dangerous a habit of body as to her health, that she professed an unwillingness to allow him any absence from her; saying, "Her divining soul boded her some ill in his absence;" and therefore desired him not to leave her. This made Mr. Donne lay aside all thoughts of the journey, and really to resolve against it. But Sir Robert became restless in his persuasions for it, and Mr. Donne was so generous as to think he had sold his liberty when he received so many charitable kindnesses from him, and told his wife so; who did therefore, with an unwilling willingness, give a faint consent to the journey, which was proposed to be but for two months; for about that time they determined their return. Within a few days after this resolve, the Ambassador, Sir Robert, and Mr. Donne, left London; and were the twelfth day got all safe to Paris. Two days after their arrival there, Mr. Donne was left alone in that room in which Sir Robert, and he, and some other friends had dined together. To this place Sir Robert returned within half an hour; and as he left, so he found, Mr. Donne alone; but in such an ecstasy, and so altered as to his looks, as amazed Sir Robert to behold him; insomuch that he earnestly desired Mr. Donne to declare what had befallen him in the short time of his absence. To which Mr. Donne was not able to make a present answer; but, after a long and perplexed pause, did at last say, "I have seen a dreadful vision since I saw you: I have seen my dear wife pass twice by me through this room, with her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms: this I have seen since I saw you." To which Sir Robert replied, "Sure, sir, you have slept since I saw you; and this is the result of some melancholy dream, which I desire you to forget, for you are now awake." To which Mr. Donne's reply was: "I cannot be surer that I now live than that I have not slept since I saw you: and am as sure that at her second appearing she stopped and looked me in the face, and vanished." Rest and sleep had not altered Mr. Donne's opinion the next day: for he then affirmed this vision with a more deliberate, and so confirmed a confidence, that he inclined Sir Robert to a faint belief that the vision was true. It is truly said that desire and doubt have no rest; and it proved so with Sir Robert; for he immediately sent a servant to Drewry House, with a charge to hasten back and bring him word whether Mrs. Donne were alive; and, if alive, in what condition she was as to her health. The twelfth day the messenger returned with this account:--That he found and left Mrs. Donne very sad and sick in her bed; and that, after a long and dangerous labour, she had been delivered of a dead child. And, upon examination, the abortion proved to be the same day, and about the very hour, that Mr. Donne affirmed he saw her pass by him in his chamber.

This is a relation that will beget some wonder, and it well may; for most of our world are at present possessed with an opinion that visions and miracles are ceased. And, though it is most certain that two lutes, being both strung and tuned to an equal pitch, and then one played upon, the other that is not touched, being laid upon a table at a fit distance, will--like an echo to a trumpet--warble a faint audible harmony in answer to the same tune; yet many will not believe there is any such thing as a sympathy of souls; and I am well pleased that every reader do enjoy his own opinion. But if the unbelieving will not allow the believing reader of this story, a liberty to believe that it may be true, then I wish him to consider many wise men have believed that the ghost of Julius Cæsar did appear to Brutus, and that both St. Austin, and Monica his mother, had visions in order to his conversion. And though these and many others--too many to name--have but the authority of human story, yet the incredible reader may find in the sacred story (1 Sam. xxviii. 14) that Samuel did appear to Saul even after his death--whether really or not, I undertake not to determine. And Bildad, in the Book of Job, says these words (iv. 13-16): "A spirit passed before my face; the hair of my head stood up; fear and trembling came upon me, and made all my bones to shake." Upon which words I will make no comment, but leave them to be considered by the incredulous reader; to whom I will also commend this following consideration: That there be many pious and learned men that believe our merciful God hath assigned to every man a particular guardian angel to be his constant monitor, and to attend him in all his dangers, both of body and soul. And the opinion that every man hath his particular angel may gain some authority by the relation of St. Peter's miraculous deliverance out of prison (Acts xii. 7-10; 13-15), not by many, but by one angel. And this belief may yet gain more credit by the reader's considering, that when Peter after his enlargement knocked at the door of Mary the mother of John, and Rhode, the maidservant, being surprised with joy that Peter was there, did not let him in, but ran in haste and told the disciples, who were then and there met together, that Peter was at the door; and they, not believing it, said she was mad: yet, when she again affirmed it, though they then believed it not, yet they concluded, and said, "It is his angel."

More observations of this nature, and inferences from them, might be made to gain the relation a firmer belief; but I forbear, lest I, that intended to be but a relator, may be thought to be an engaged person for the proving what was related to me; and yet I think myself bound to declare that, though it was not told me by Mr. Donne himself, it was told me--now long since--by a person of honour, and of such intimacy with him, that he knew more of the secrets of his soul than any person then living: and I think he told me the truth; for it was told with such circumstances, and such asseveration, that--to say nothing of my own thoughts--I verily believe he that told it me did himself believe it to be true.

I return from my account of the vision, to tell the reader, that both before Mr. Donne's going into France, at his being there, and after his return, many of the nobility and others that were powerful at court, were watchful and solicitous to the King for some secular employment for him. The King had formerly both known and put a value upon his company, and had also given him some hopes of a state-employment; being always much pleased when Mr. Donne attended him, especially at his meals, where there were usually many deep discourses of general learning, and very often friendly disputes, or debates of religion, betwixt his Majesty and those divines, whose places required their attendance on him at those times: particularly the Dean of the Chapel, who then was Bishop Montague--the publisher of the learned and eloquent Works of his Majesty--and the most Reverend Doctor Andrews the late learned Bishop of Winchester, who was then the King's Almoner.

About this time there grew many disputes, that concerned the Oath of Supremacy and Allegiance, in which the King had appeared, and engaged himself by his public writings now extant: and his Majesty discoursing with Mr. Donne, concerning many of the reasons which are usually urged against the taking of those Oaths, apprehended such a validity and clearness in his stating the questions, and his answers to them, that his Majesty commanded him to bestow some time in drawing the arguments into a method, and then to write his answers to them; and, having done that, not to send, but be his own messenger, and bring them to him. To this he presently and diligently applied himself, and within six weeks brought them to him under his own handwriting, as they be now printed; the book bearing the name of "Pseudo-Martyr," printed anno 1610.

When the King had read and considered that book, he persuaded Mr. Donne to enter into the Ministry; to which, at that time, he was, and appeared, very unwilling, apprehending it--such was his mistaken modesty--to be too weighty for his abilities.

Such strifes St. Austin had, when St. Ambrose endeavoured his conversion to Christianity; with which he confesseth he acquainted his friend Alipius. Our learned author--a man fit to write after no mean copy--did the like. And declaring his intentions to his dear friend Dr. King, then Bishop of London, a man famous in his generation, and no stranger to Mr. Donne's abilities--for he had been Chaplain to the Lord Chancellor, at the time of Mr. Donne's being his Lordship's Secretary--that reverend man did receive the news with much gladness; and, after some expressions of joy, and a persuasion to be constant in his pious purpose, he proceeded with all convenient speed to ordain him first Deacon, and then Priest not long after.

Presently after he entered into his holy profession, the King sent for him, and made him his Chaplain in Ordinary, and promised to take a particular care for his preferment.

And, though his long familiarity with scholars and persons of greatest quality was such, as might have given some men boldness enough to have preached to any eminent auditory; yet his modesty in this employment was such, that he could not be persuaded to it, but went usually accompanied with some one friend to preach privately in some village, not far from London; his first sermon being preached at Paddington. This he did, till his Majesty sent and appointed him a day to preach to him at Whitehall; and, though much were expected from him, both by his Majesty and others, yet he was so happy--which few are--as to satisfy and exceed their expectations: preaching the Word so, as shewed his own heart was possessed with those very thoughts and joys that he laboured to distil into others: a preacher in earnest; weeping sometimes for his auditory, sometimes with them; always preaching to himself like an angel from a cloud, but in none; carrying some, as St. Paul was, to Heaven in holy raptures, and enticing others by a sacred art and courtship to amend their lives: here picturing a vice so as to make it ugly to those that practised it; and a virtue so as to make it beloved, even by those that loved it not; and all this with a most particular grace and an unexpressible addition of comeliness.

That summer, in the very same month in which he entered into sacred Orders, and was made the King's Chaplain, his Majesty then going his progress, was entreated to receive an entertainment in the University of Cambridge: and Mr. Donne attending his Majesty at that time, his Majesty was pleased to recommend him to the University, to be made Doctor in Divinity; Doctor Harsnett, after Archbishop of York, was then Vice-Chancellor, who, knowing him to be the author of that learned book the "Pseudo-Martyr," required no other proof of his abilities, but proposed it to the University, who presently assented, and expressed a gladness that they had such an occasion to entitle him to be theirs.

His abilities and industry in his profession were so eminent, and he so known and so beloved by persons of quality, that within the first year of his entering into sacred Orders, he had fourteen advowsons of several benefices presented to him: but they were in the country, and he could not leave his beloved London, to which place he had a natural inclination, having received both his birth and education in it, and there contracted a friendship with many, whose conversation multiplied the joys of his life; but an employment that might affix him to that place would be welcome, for he needed it.

Immediately after his return from Cambridge his wife died, leaving him a man of a narrow, unsettled estate, and--having buried five--the careful father of seven children then living, to whom he gave a voluntary assurance never to bring them under the subjection of a step-mother; which promise he kept most faithfully, burying with his tears all his earthly joys in his most dear and deserving wife's grave, and betook himself to a most retired and solitary life.

In this retiredness, which was often from the sight of his dearest friends, he became crucified to the world, and all those vanities, those imaginary pleasures, that are daily acted on that restless stage, and they were as perfectly crucified to him.

His first motion from his house was to preach where his beloved wife lay buried--in St. Clement's Church, near Temple Bar, London; and his text was a part of the Prophet Jeremy's Lamentation: "Lo, I am the man that have seen affliction."

In this time of sadness he was importuned by the grave Benchers of Lincoln's Inn--who were once the companions and friends of his youth--to accept of their Lecture, which, by reason of Dr. Gataker's removal from thence, was then void; of which he accepted, being most glad to renew his intermitted friendship with those whom he so much loved, and where he had been a Saul,--though not to persecute Christianity, or to deride it, yet in his irregular youth to neglect the visible practice of it,--there to become a Paul, and preach salvation to his beloved brethren.

About which time the Emperor of Germany died, and the Palsgrave, who had lately married the Lady Elizabeth, the King's only daughter, was elected and crowned King of Bohemia, the unhappy beginning of many miseries in that nation.

King James, whose motto--_Beati pacifici_--did truly speak the very thoughts of his heart, endeavoured first to prevent, and after to compose, the discords of that discomposed State; and, amongst other his endeavours, did then send the Lord Hay, Earl of Doncaster, his Ambassador to those unsettled Princes; and, by a special command from his Majesty, Dr. Donne was appointed to assist and attend that employment to the Princes of the Union, for which the Earl was most glad, who had always put a great value on him, and taken a great pleasure in his conversation and discourse: and his friends at Lincoln's Inn were as glad; for they feared that his immoderate study, and sadness for his wife's death, would, as Jacob said, "make his days few," and, respecting his bodily health, "evil" too: and of this there were many visible signs.

About fourteen months after his departure out of England, he returned to his friends of Lincoln's Inn, with his sorrows moderated, and his health improved; and there betook himself to his constant course of preaching.

About a year after his return out of Germany, Dr. Carey was made Bishop of Exeter, and by his removal, the Deanery of St. Paul's being vacant, the King sent to Dr. Donne, and appointed him to attend him at dinner the next day. When his Majesty was sat down, before he had eat any meat, he said after his pleasant manner, "Dr. Donne, I have invited you to dinner; and, though you sit not down with me, yet I will carve to you of a dish that I know you love well; for, knowing you love London, I do therefore make you Dean of St. Paul's; and, when I have dined, then do you take your beloved dish home to your study, say grace there to yourself, and much good may it do you."

Immediately after he came to his Deanery, he employed workmen to repair and beautify the Chapel; suffering as holy David once vowed, "his eyes and temples to take no rest till he had first beautified the house of God."

The next quarter following when his father-in-law, Sir George More,--whom time had made a lover and admirer of him--came to pay to him the conditioned sum of twenty pounds, he refused to receive it; and said--as good Jacob did, when he heard his beloved son Joseph was alive--"'It is enough;' you have been kind to me and mine: I know your present condition is such as not to abound, and I hope mine is, or will be such as not to need it: I will therefore receive no more from you upon that contract," and in testimony of it freely gave him up his bond.

Immediately after his admission into his Deanery the Vicarage of St. Dunstan in the West, London, fell to him by the death of Dr. White, the advowson of it having been given to him long before by his honourable friend Richard Earl of Dorset, then the patron, and confirmed by his brother the late deceased Edward, both of them men of much honour.

By these, and another ecclesiastical endowment which fell to him about the same time, given to him formerly by the Earl of Kent, he was enabled to become charitable to the poor, and kind to his friends, and to make such provision for his children, that they were not left scandalous as relating to their or his profession and quality.

The next Parliament, which was within that present year, he was chosen Prolocutor to the Convocation, and about that time was appointed by his Majesty, his most gracious master, to preach very many occasional sermons, as at St. Paul's Cross, and other places. All which employments he performed to the admiration of the representative body of the whole Clergy of this nation.

He was once, and but once, clouded with the King's displeasure, and it was about this time; which was occasioned by some malicious whisperer, who had told his Majesty that Dr. Donne had put on the general humour of the pulpits, and was become busy in insinuating a fear of the King's inclining to popery, and a dislike of his government; and particularly for the King's then turning the evening lectures into catechising, and expounding the Prayer of our Lord, and of the Belief, and Commandments. His Majesty was the more inclinable to believe this, for that a person of nobility and great note, betwixt whom and Dr. Donne there had been a great friendship, was at this very time discarded the court--I shall forbear his name, unless I had a fairer occasion--and justly committed to prison; which begot many rumours in the common people, who in this nation think they are not wise unless they be busy about what they understand not, and especially about religion.

The King received this news with so much discontent and restlessness that he would not suffer the sun to set and leave him under this doubt; but sent for Dr. Donne, and required his answer to the accusation; which was so clear and satisfactory that the King said, "he was right glad he rested no longer under the suspicion." When the King had said this, Dr. Donne kneeled down, and thanked his Majesty, and protested his answer was faithful, and free from all collusion, and therefore "desired that he might not rise till, as in like cases, he always had from God, so he might have from his Majesty, some assurance that he stood clear and fair in his opinion." At which the King raised him from his knees with his own hands, and "protested he believed him; and that he knew he was an honest man, and doubted not but that he loved him truly." And, having thus dismissed him, he called some Lords of his Council into his chamber, and said with much earnestness, "My Doctor is an honest man; and, my Lords, I was never better satisfied with an answer than he hath now made me; and I always rejoice when I think that by my means he became a Divine."

He was made Dean in the fiftieth year of his age, and in his fifty-fourth year a dangerous sickness seized him, which inclined him to a consumption; but God, as Job thankfully acknowledged, preserved his spirit, and kept his intellectuals as clear and perfect as when that sickness first seized his body; but it continued long, and threatened him with death, which he dreaded not.

Within a few days his distempers abated; and as his strength increased so did his thankfulness to Almighty God, testified in his most excellent "Book of Devotions," which he published at his recovery; in which the reader may see the most secret thoughts that then possessed his soul, paraphrased and made public: a book that may not unfitly be called a Sacred Picture of Spiritual Ecstasies, occasioned and applicable to the emergencies of that sickness; which book, being a composition of meditations, disquisitions, and prayers, he writ on his sick-bed; herein imitating the holy Patriarchs, who were wont to build their altars in that place where they had received their blessings.

This sickness brought him so near to the gates of death, and he saw the grave so ready to devour him, that he would often say his recovery was supernatural: but that God that then restored his health continued it to him till the fifty-ninth year of his life: and then, in August 1630, being with his eldest daughter, Mrs. Harvey, at Abury Hatch, in Essex, he there fell into a fever, which, with the help of his constant infirmity--vapours from the spleen--hastened him into so visible a consumption that his beholders might say, as St. Paul of himself, "He dies daily;" and he might say with Job, "My welfare passeth away as a cloud, the days of my affliction have taken hold of me, and weary nights are appointed for me."

Reader, this sickness continued long, not only weakening, but wearying him so much, that my desire is he may now take some rest; and that before I speak of his death thou wilt not think it an impertinent digression to look back with me upon some observations of his life, which, whilst a gentle slumber gives rest to his spirits, may, I hope, not unfitly, exercise thy consideration.

His marriage was the remarkable error of his life; an error which, though he had a wit able and very apt to maintain paradoxes, yet he was very far from justifying it: and though his wife's competent years, and other reasons, might be justly urged to moderate severe censures, yet he would occasionally condemn himself for it: and doubtless it had been attended with an heavy repentance, if God had not blessed them with so mutual and cordial affections, as in the midst of their sufferings made their bread of sorrow taste more pleasantly than the banquets of dull and low-spirited people.

The recreations of his youth were poetry, in which he was so happy as if nature and all her varieties had been made only to exercise his sharp wit and high fancy; and in those pieces which were facetiously composed and carelessly scattered,--most of them being written before the twentieth year of his age--it may appear by his choice metaphors that both nature and all the arts joined to assist him with their utmost skill.

It is a truth, that in his penitential years, viewing some of those pieces that had been loosely--God knows, too loosely--scattered in his youth, he wished they had been abortive, or so short-lived that his own eyes had witnessed their funerals; but, though he was no friend to them, he was not so fallen out with heavenly poetry, as to forsake that; no, not in his declining age; witnessed then by many divine sonnets, and other high, holy, and harmonious composures. Yea, even on his former sick-bed he wrote this heavenly hymn, expressing the great joy that then possessed his soul, in the assurance of God's favour to him when he composed it:--

"AN HYMN

"TO GOD THE FATHER

"Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before? Wilt Thou forgive that sin through which I run, And do run still, though still I do deplore? When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done, For I have more.

"Wilt Thou forgive that sin, which I have won Others to sin, and made my sin their door? Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun A year or two:--but wallow'd in a score? When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done, For I have more.

"I have a sin of fear, that when I've spun My last thread, I shall perish on the shore; But swear by Thyself, that at my death Thy Son Shall shine as He shines now, and heretofore; And having done that, Thou hast done, I fear no more."

I have the rather mentioned this hymn, for that he caused it to be set to a most grave and solemn tune, and to be often sung to the organ by the choiristers of St. Paul's Church, in his own hearing; especially at the Evening Service; and at his return from his customary devotions in that place, did occasionally say to a friend, "the words of this hymn have restored to me the same thoughts of joy that possessed my soul in my sickness, when I composed it. And, O the power of church-music! that harmony added to this hymn has raised the affections of my heart, and quickened my graces of zeal and gratitude; and I observe that I always return from paying this public duty of prayer and praise to God, with an unexpressible tranquillity of mind, and a willingness to leave the world."

After this manner did the disciples of our Saviour, and the best of Christians in those ages of the Church nearest to His time, offer their praises to Almighty God. And the reader of St. Augustine's life may there find, that towards his dissolution he wept abundantly, that the enemies of Christianity had broke in upon them, and profaned and ruined their sanctuaries, and because their public hymns and lauds were lost out of their Churches. And after this manner have many devout souls lifted up their hands and offered acceptable sacrifices unto Almighty God, where Dr. Donne offered his, and now lies buried.

But now [1656], Oh Lord! how is that place become desolate!

Before I proceed further, I think fit to inform the reader, that not long before his death he caused to be drawn a figure of the Body of Christ extended upon an anchor, like those which painters draw, when they would present us with the picture of Christ crucified on the cross: his varying no otherwise than to affix Him not to a cross, but to an anchor--the emblem of Hope;--this he caused to be drawn in little, and then many of those figures thus drawn to be engraven very small in Heliotropium stones, and set in gold; and of these he sent to many of his dearest friends, to be used as seals, or rings, and kept as memorials of him, and of his affection to them.

His dear friends and benefactors, Sir Henry Goodier and Sir Robert Drewry, could not be of that number; nor could the Lady Magdalen Herbert, the mother of George Herbert, for they had put off mortality, and taken possession of the grave before him; but Sir Henry Wotton, and Dr. Hall, the then--late deceased--Bishop of Norwich, were; and so were Dr. Duppa, Bishop of Salisbury, and Dr. Henry King, Bishop of Chichester--lately deceased--men, in whom there was such a commixture of general learning, of natural eloquence, and Christian humility, that they deserve a commemoration by a pen equal to their own, which none have exceeded.

And in this enumeration of his friends, though many must be omitted, yet that man of primitive piety, Mr. George Herbert, may not; I mean that George Herbert, who was the author of "The Temple, or Sacred Poems and Ejaculations." A book, in which by declaring his own spiritual conflicts, he hath comforted and raised many a dejected and discomposed soul, and charmed them into sweet and quiet thoughts; a book, by the frequent reading whereof, and the assistance of that Spirit that seemed to inspire the author, the reader may attain habits of peace and piety, and all the gifts of the Holy Ghost and Heaven: and may, by still reading, still keep those sacred fires burning upon the altar of so pure a heart, as shall free it from the anxieties of this world, and keep it fixed upon things that are above. Betwixt this George Herbert and Dr. Donne, there was a long and dear friendship, made up by such a sympathy of inclinations that they coveted and joyed to be in each other's company; and this happy friendship was still maintained by many sacred endearments; of which that which followeth may be some testimony.

"TO MR. GEORGE HERBERT;

"SENT HIM WITH ONE OF MY SEALS OF THE ANCHOR AND CHRIST.

[Illustration]

"_A Sheaf of Snakes used heretofore to be my Seal, which is the Crest of our poor family._"

[Illustration]

"Qui prius assuetus serpentum falce tabellas Signare, hæc nostræ symbola parva domus, Adscitus domui Domini----

"Adopted in God's family, and so My old coat lost, into new Arms I go. The Cross, my Seal in Baptism, spread below, Does by that form into an Anchor grow. Crosses grow Anchors, bear as thou shouldst do Thy Cross, and that Cross grows an Anchor too. But He that makes our Crosses Anchors thus, Is Christ, who there is crucified for us. Yet with this I may my first Serpents hold;-- God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old-- The Serpent, may, as wise, my pattern be; My poison, as he feeds on dust, that's me. And, as he rounds the earth to murder, sure He is my death; but on the Cross, my cure, Crucify nature then; and then implore All grace from Him, crucified there before. When all is Cross, and that Cross Anchor grown This Seal's a Catechism, not a Seal alone. Under that little Seal great gifts I send, Both works and pray'rs, pawns and fruits of a friend. O! may that Saint that rides on our Great Seal, To you that bear his name, large bounty deal.

"John Donne."

"IN SACRAM ANCHORAM PISCATORIS

"GEORGE HERBERT.

"Quod Crux nequibat fixa clavique additi,-- Tenere Christum scilicet ne ascenderet, Tuive Christum--

"Although the Cross could not here Christ detain, When nail'd unto't, but He ascends again; Nor yet thy eloquence here keep Him still, But only whilst thou speak'st--this Anchor will: Nor canst thou be content, unless thou to This certain Anchor add a Seal; and so The water and the earth both unto thee Do owe the symbol of their certainty. Let the world reel, we and all ours stand sure, This holy cable's from all storms secure.

"George Herbert."

I return to tell the reader, that, besides these verses to his dear Mr. Herbert, and that Hymn that I mentioned to be sung in the choir of St. Paul's Church, he did also shorten and beguile many sad hours by composing other sacred ditties; and he writ an Hymn on his death-bed, which bears this title:--

"AN HYMN TO GOD, MY GOD, IN MY SICKNESS.

"_March 23, 1630._

"Since I am coming to that holy room, Where, with Thy Choir of Saints, for evermore I shall be made Thy music, as I come I tune my instrument here at the door, And, what I must do then, think here before.

"Since my Physicians by their loves are grown Cosmographers; and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed----

"So, in His purple wrapt, receive my Lord! By these His thorns, give me His other Crown And, as to other souls I preach'd Thy word, Be this my text, my sermon to mine own, 'That He may raise; therefore the Lord throws down.'"

If these fall under the censure of a soul, whose too much mixture with earth makes it unfit to judge of these high raptures and illuminations, let him know, that many holy and devout men have thought the soul of Prudentius to be most refined, when, not many days before his death, "he charged it to present his God each morning and evening with a new and spiritual song;" justified by the example of King David and the good King Hezekiah, who, upon the renovation of his years paid his thankful vows to Almighty God in a royal hymn, which he concludes in these words: "The Lord was ready to save; therefore I will sing my songs to the stringed instruments all the days of my life in the Temple of my God."

The latter part of his life may be said to be a continued study; for as he usually preached once a week, if not oftener, so after his sermon he never gave his eyes rest, till he had chosen out a new text, and that night cast his sermon into a form, and his text into divisions; and the next day betook himself to consult the Fathers, and so commit his meditations to his memory, which was excellent. But upon Saturday he usually gave himself and his mind a rest from the weary burthen of his week's meditations, and usually spent that day in visitation of friends, or some other diversions of his thoughts; and would say, "that he gave both his body and mind that refreshment, that he might be enabled to do the work of the day following, not faintly, but with courage and cheerfulness."

Nor was his age only so industrious, but in the most unsettled days of his youth, his bed was not able to detain him beyond the hour of four in a morning; and it was no common business that drew him out of his chamber till past ten; all which time was employed in study; though he took great liberty after it. And if this seem strange, it may gain a belief by the visible fruits of his labours; some of which remain as testimonies of what is here written: for he left the resultance of 1400 authors, most of them abridged and analysed with his own hand: he left also six score of his sermons, all written with his own hand, also an exact and laborious Treatise concerning self-murder, called Biathanatos; wherein all the laws violated by that act are diligently surveyed, and judiciously censured: a Treatise written in his younger days, which alone might declare him then not only perfect in the Civil and Canon Law, but in many other such studies and arguments, as enter not into the consideration of many that labour to be thought great clerks, and pretend to know all things.

Nor were these only found in his study, but all businesses that passed of any public consequence, either in this or any of our neighbour-nations, he abbreviated either in Latin, or in the language of that nation, and kept them by him for useful memorials. So he did the copies of divers Letters and Cases of Conscience that had concerned his friends, with his observations and solutions of them; and divers other businesses of importance, all particularly and methodically digested by himself.

He did prepare to leave the world before life left him; making his Will when no faculty of his soul was damped or made defective by pain or sickness, or he surprised by a sudden apprehension of death: but it was made with mature deliberation, expressing himself an impartial father, by making his children's portions equal; and a lover of his friends, whom he remembered with legacies fitly and discreetly chosen and bequeathed. I cannot forbear a nomination of some of them; for methinks they be persons that seem to challenge a recordation in this place; as namely, to his brother-in-law, Sir Thomas Grimes, he gave that striking clock, which he had long worn in his pocket; to his dear friend and executor, Dr. King--late Bishop of Chichester--that Model of Gold of the Synod of Dort, with which the States presented him at his last being at the Hague; and the two pictures of Padre Paolo and Fulgentio, men of his acquaintance when he travelled Italy, and of great note in that nation for their remarkable learning.--To his ancient friend Dr. Brook--that married him--Master of Trinity College in Cambridge, he gave the picture of the Blessed Virgin and Joseph.--To Dr. Winniff who succeeded him in the Deanery--he gave a picture called the Skeleton.--To the succeeding Dean, who was not then known, he gave many necessaries of worth, and useful for his house; and also several pictures and ornaments for the Chapel, with a desire that they might be registered, and remain as a legacy to his successors.--To the Earls of Dorset and Carlisle he gave several pictures; and so he did to many other friends; legacies, given rather to express his affection, than to make any addition to their estates: but unto the poor he was full of charity, and unto many others, who, by his constant and long continued bounty, might entitle themselves to be his alms-people: for all these he made provision, and so largely, as, having then six children living, might to some appear more than proportionable to his estate. I forbear to mention any more, lest the reader may think I trespass upon his patience: but I will beg his favour, to present him with the beginning and end of his Will.

"In the name of the blessed and glorious Trinity. Amen. I John Donne, by the mercy of Christ Jesus, and by the calling of the Church of England, Priest, being at this time in good health and perfect understanding--praised be God therefore--do hereby make my last Will and Testament in manner and form following:--

"First, I give my gracious God an entire sacrifice of body and soul, with my most humble thanks for that assurance which His Blessed Spirit imprints in me now of the Salvation of the one, and the Resurrection of the other; and for that constant and cheerful resolution, which the same Spirit hath established in me, to live and die in the religion now professed in the Church of England. In expectation of that Resurrection, I desire my body may be buried--in the most private manner that may be--in that place of St. Paul's Church, London, that the now Residentiaries have at my request designed for that purpose, &c.--And this my last Will and Testament, made in the fear of God,--whose mercy I humbly beg, and constantly rely upon in Jesus Christ--and in perfect love and charity with all the world--whose pardon I ask, from the lowest of my servants, to the highest of my superiors--written all with my own hand, and my name subscribed to every page, of which there are five in number.

"Sealed December 13, 1630."

Nor was this blessed sacrifice of charity expressed only at his death, but in his life also, by a cheerful and frequent visitation of any friend whose mind was dejected, or his fortune necessitous; he was inquisitive after the wants of prisoners, and redeemed many from prison, that lay for their fees or small debts: he was a continual giver to poor scholars, both of this and foreign nations. Besides what he gave with his own hand, he usually sent a servant, or a discreet and trusty friend, to distribute his charity to all the prisons in London, at all the festival times of the year, especially at the Birth and Resurrection of our Saviour. He gave an hundred pounds at one time to an old friend, whom he had known live plentifully, and by a too liberal heart and carelessness became decayed in his estate; and when the receiving of it was denied, by the gentleman's saying, "He wanted not;"--for the reader may note, that as there be some spirits so generous as to labour to conceal and endure a sad poverty, rather than expose themselves to those blushes that attend the confession of it; so there be others, to whom nature and grace have afforded such sweet and compassionate souls, as to pity and prevent the distresses of mankind;--which I have mentioned because of Dr. Donne's reply, whose answer was, "I know you want not what will sustain nature; for a little will do that; but my desire is, that you, who in the days of your plenty have cheered and raised the hearts of so many of your dejected friends, would now receive this from me, and use it as a cordial for the cheering of your own:" and upon these terms it was received. He was an happy reconciler of many differences in the families of his friends and kindred,--which he never undertook faintly; for such undertakings have usually faint effects--and they had such a faith in his judgment and impartiality, that he never advised them to any thing in vain. He was, even to her death, a most dutiful son to his mother, careful to provide for her supportation, of which she had been destitute, but that God raised him up to prevent her necessities; who having sucked in the religion of the Roman Church with the mother's milk, spent her estate in foreign countries, to enjoy a liberty in it, and died in his house but three months before him.

And to the end it may appear how just a steward he was of his Lord and Master's revenue, I have thought fit to let the reader know, that after his entrance into his Deanery, as he numbered his years, he, at the foot of a private account, to which God and His Angels were only witnesses with him,--computed first his revenue, then what was given to the poor, and other pious uses; and lastly, what rested for him and his; and having done that, he then blessed each year's poor remainder with a thankful prayer; which, for that they discover a more than common devotion, the reader shall partake some of them in his own words:--

So all is that remains this year [1624-5]--

"Deo Opt. Max. benigno largitori, á me, at ab iis quibus hæc à me reservantur, gloria et gratia in æternum. Amen."

Translated Thus

TRANSLATED THUS.

To God all Good, all Great, the benevolent Bestower, by me and by them, for whom, by me, these sums are laid up, be glory and grace ascribed for ever. Amen.

So that this year, [1626,] God hath blessed me and mine with--

"Multiplicatæ sunt super nos misericordiæ tuæ, Domine."

TRANSLATED THUS.

Thy mercies, Oh Lord! are multiplied upon us.

"Da, Domine, ut quæ ex immensâ bonitate tuâ nobis elargiri dignatus sis, in quorumcunque manus devenerint, in tuam semper cedant gloriam. Amen."

TRANSLATED THUS.

Grant, Oh Lord! that what out of Thine infinite bounty Thou hast vouchsafed to lavish upon us, into whosoever hands it may devolve, may always be improved to thy glory. Amen.

"In fine horum sex annorum manet [1627-8-9]--

"Quid habeo quod non accepi a Domino? Largitur etiam ut quæ largitus est sua iterum fiant, bono eorum usu; ut quemadmodum nec officiis hujus mundi, nec loci in quo me posuit dignitati, nec servis, nec egenis, in toto hujus anni curriculo mihi conscius sum me defuisse; ita et liberi, quibus quæ supersunt, supersunt, grato animo ea accipiant, et beneficum authorem recognoscant. Amen."

TRANSLATED THUS.

At the end of these six years remains--

What have I, which I have not received from the Lord? He bestows, also, to the intent that what He hath bestowed may revert to Him by the proper use of it: that, as I have not consciously been wanting to myself during the whole course of the past year, either in discharging my secular duties, in retaining the dignity of my station, or in my conduct towards my servants and the poor--so my children for whom remains whatever is remaining, may receive it with gratitude, and acknowledge the beneficent Giver. Amen.

* * * * *

But I return from my long digression.

We left the Author sick in Essex, where he was forced to spend much of that winter, by reason of his disability to remove from that place; and having never, for almost twenty years, omitted his personal attendance on his Majesty in that month, in which he was to attend and preach to him; nor having ever been left out of the roll and number of Lent Preachers, and there being then--in January, 1630--a report brought to London, or raised there, that Dr. Donne was dead; that report gave him occasion to write the following letter to a dear friend:--

"Sir,

"This advantage you and my other friends have by my frequent fevers, that I am so much the oftener at the gates of Heaven; and this advantage by the solitude and close imprisonment that they reduce me to after, that I am so much the oftener at my prayers, in which I shall never leave out your happiness; and I doubt not, among His other blessings, God will add some one to you for my prayers. A man would almost be content to die--if there were no other benefit in death--to hear of so much sorrow, and so much good testimony from good men, as I--God be blessed for it--did upon the report of my death; yet I perceive it went not through all; for one writ to me, that some--and he said of my friends--conceived I was not so ill as I pretended, but withdrew myself to live at ease, discharged of preaching. It is an unfriendly, and, God knows, an ill-grounded interpretation; for I have always been sorrier when I could not preach, than any could be they could not hear me. It hath been my desire, and God may be pleased to grant it, that I might die in the pulpit; if not that, yet that I might take my death in the pulpit; that is, die the sooner by occasion of those labours. Sir, I hope to see you presently after Candlemas; about which time will fall my Lent Sermon at Court, except my Lord Chamberlain believe me to be dead, and so leave me out of the roll: but as long as I live, and am not speechless, I would not willingly, decline that service. I have better leisure to write, than you to read; yet I would not willingly oppress you with too much letter. God so bless you and your son, as I wish to

"Your poor friend and Servant "In Christ Jesus, "J. Donne."

Before that month ended, he was appointed to preach upon his old constant day, the first Friday in Lent: he had notice of it, and had in his sickness so prepared for that employment, that as he had long thirsted for it, so he resolved his weakness should not hinder his journey; he came therefore to London some few days before his appointed day of preaching. At his coming thither, many of his friends--who with sorrow saw his sickness had left him but so much flesh as did only cover his bones--doubted his strength to perform that task, and did therefore dissuade him from undertaking it, assuring him, however, it was like to shorten his life: but he passionately denied their requests, saying "he would not doubt that that God, who in so many weaknesses had assisted him with an unexpected strength, would now withdraw it in his last employment; professing an holy ambition to perform that sacred work." And when, to the amazement of some beholders, he appeared in the pulpit, many of them thought he presented himself not to preach mortification by a living voice, but mortality by a decayed body, and a dying face. And doubtless many did secretly ask that question in Ezekiel (chap. xxxvii. 3), "Do these bones live? or, can that soul organise that tongue, to speak so long time as the sand in that glass will move towards its centre, and measure out an hour of this dying man's unspent life? Doubtless it cannot." And yet, after some faint pauses in his zealous prayer, his strong desires enabled his weak body to discharge his memory of his preconceived meditations, which were of dying; the text being, "To God the Lord belong the issues from death." Many that then saw his tears, and heard his faint and hollow voice, professing they thought the text prophetically chosen, and that Dr. Donne had preached his own Funeral Sermon.

Being full of joy that God had enabled him to perform this desired duty, he hastened to his house; out of which he never moved, till, like St. Stephen, "he was carried by devout men to his grave."

The next day after his sermon, his strength being much wasted, and his spirits so spent as indisposed him to business or to talk, a friend that had often been a witness of his free and facetious discourse asked him, "Why are you sad?" To whom he replied with a countenance so full of cheerful gravity, as gave testimony of an inward tranquillity of mind, and of a soul willing to take a farewell of this world, and said:--

"I am not sad; but most of the night past I have entertained myself with many thoughts of several friends that have left me here, and are gone to that place from which they shall not return; and that within a few days I also shall go hence, and be no more seen. And my preparation for this change is become my nightly meditation upon my bed, which my infirmities have now made restless to me. But at this present time, I was in a serious contemplation of the providence and goodness of God to me; to me, who am less than the least of His mercies: and looking back upon my life past, I now plainly see it was His hand that prevented me from all temporal employment; and that it was His will I should never settle nor thrive till I entered into the Ministry; in which I have now lived almost twenty years--I hope to His glory,--and by which, I most humbly thank Him, I have been enabled to requite most of those friends which shewed me kindness when my fortune was very low, as God knows it was: and--as it hath occasioned the expression of my gratitude--I thank God most of them have stood in need of my requital. I have lived to be useful and comfortable to my good Father-in-law, Sir George More, whose patience God hath been pleased to exercise with many temporal crosses; I have maintained my own mother, whom it hath pleased God, after a plentiful fortune in her younger days, to bring to great decay in her very old age. I have quieted the consciences of many, that have groaned under the burden of a wounded spirit, whose prayers I hope are available for me. I cannot plead innocency of life, especially of my youth; but I am to be judged by a merciful God, who is not willing to see what I have done amiss. And though of myself I have nothing to present to Him but sins and misery, yet I know He looks not upon me now as I am of myself, but as I am in my Saviour, and hath given me, even at this present time, some testimonies by His Holy Spirit, that I am of the number of His Elect: I am therefore full of inexpressible joy, and shall die in peace."

I must here look so far back, as to tell the reader that at his first return out of Essex, to preach his last sermon, his old friend and physician, Dr. Fox--a man of great worth--came to him to consult his health; and that after a sight of him, and some queries concerning his distempers he told him, "That by cordials, and drinking milk twenty days together, there was a probability of his restoration to health"; but he passionately denied to drink it. Nevertheless, Dr. Fox, who loved him most entirely, wearied him with solicitations, till he yielded to take it for ten days; at the end of which time he told Dr. Fox, "He had drunk it more to satisfy him, than to recover his health; and that he would not drink it ten days longer, upon the best moral assurance of having twenty years added to his life; for he loved it not; and was so far from fearing Death, which to others is the King of Terrors, that he longed for the day of his dissolution."

It is observed, that a desire of glory or commendation is rooted in the very nature of man; and that those of the severest and most mortified lives, though they may become so humble as to banish self-flattery, and such weeds as naturally grow there; yet they have not been able to kill this desire of glory, but that like our radical heat, it will both live and die with us; and many think it should do so; and we want not sacred examples to justify the desire of having our memory to outlive our lives; which I mention, because Dr. Donne, by the persuasion of Dr. Fox, easily yielded at this very time to have a monument made for him; but Dr. Fox undertook not to persuade him how, or what monument it should be; that was left to Dr. Donne himself.

A monument being resolved upon, Dr. Donne sent for a carver to make for him in wood the figure of an urn, giving him directions for the compass and height of it; and to bring with it a board, of the just height of his body. "These being got, then without delay a choice painter was got to be in readiness to draw his picture, which was taken as followeth.--Several charcoal fires being first made in his large study, he brought with him into that place his winding-sheet in his hand, and having put off all his clothes, had this sheet put on him, and so tied with knots at his head and feet, and his hands so placed as dead bodies are usually fitted, to be shrouded and put into their coffin, or grave. Upon this urn he thus stood, with his eyes shut, and with so much of the sheet turned aside as might shew his lean, pale, and death-like face, which was purposely turned towards the East, from whence he expected the second coming of his and our Saviour Jesus." In this posture he was drawn at his just height; and when the picture was fully finished, he caused it to be set by his bedside, where it continued and became his hourly object till his death, and was then given to his dearest friend and executor Dr. Henry King, then chief Residentiary of St. Paul's, who caused him to be thus carved in one entire piece of white marble, as it now stands in that Church; and by Dr. Donne's own appointment, these words were to be affixed to it as an epitaph:--

Johannes Donne Sac. Theol. Profess. Post Varia Studia, Quibus Ab Annis Tenerrimis

JOHANNES DONNE

SAC. THEOL. PROFESS. POST VARIA STUDIA, QUIBUS AB ANNIS TENERRIMIS FIDELITER, NEC INFELICITER INCUBUIT; INSTINCTU ET IMPULSU SP.

Sancti, Monitu Et Hortatu Regis Jacobi, Ordines Sacros Amplexus,

SANCTI, MONITU ET HORTATU REGIS JACOBI, ORDINES SACROS AMPLEXUS, ANNO SUI JESU, MDCXIV. ET SUÆ ÆTATIS XLII. DECANATU HUJUS ECCLESIÆ INDUTUS, XXVII. NOVEMBRIS, MDCXXI. EXUTUS MORTE ULTIMO DIE MARTII, MDCXXXI. HIC LICET IN OCCIDUO CINERE, ASPICIT EUM CUJUS NOMEN EST ORIENS.

And now, having brought him through the many labyrinths and perplexities of a various life, even to the gates of death and the grave; my desire is, he may rest, till I have told my reader that I have seen many pictures of him, in several habits, and at several ages, and in several postures: and I now mention this because I have seen one picture of him, drawn by a curious hand, at his age of eighteen, with his sword, and what other adornments might then suit with the present fashions of youth and the giddy gaieties of that age; and his motto then was--

"How much shall I be changed Before I am changed!"

And if that young, and his now dying picture were at this time set together, every beholder might say, "Lord! how much is Dr. Donne already changed, before he is changed!" And the view of them might give my reader occasion to ask himself with some amazement, "Lord! how much may I also, that am now in health, be changed before I am changed; before this vile, this changeable body shall put off mortality!" and therefore to prepare for it.--But this is not writ so much for my reader's memento, as to tell him, that Dr. Donne would often in his private discourses, and often publicly in his sermons, mention the many changes both of his body and mind, especially of his mind from a vertiginous giddiness; and would as often say, "His great and most blessed change was from a temporal to a spiritual employment"; in which he was so happy, that he accounted the former part of his life to be lost; and the beginning of it to be, from his first entering into Sacred Orders, and serving his most merciful God at His altar.

Upon Monday, after the drawing this picture, he took his last leave of his beloved study; and, being sensible of his hourly decay, retired himself to his bedchamber; and that week sent at several times for many of his most considerable friends, with whom he took a solemn and deliberate farewell, commending to their considerations some sentences useful for the regulation of their lives; and then dismissed them, as good Jacob did his sons, with a spiritual benediction. The Sunday following, he appointed his servants, that if there were any business yet undone, that concerned him or themselves, it should be prepared against Saturday next; for after that day he would not mix his thoughts with any thing that concerned this world; nor ever did; but, as Job, so he "waited for the appointed day of his dissolution."

And now he was so happy as to have nothing to do but to die, to do which he stood in need of no longer time; for he had studied it long, and to so happy a perfection, that in a former sickness he called God to witness (in his "Book of Devotions," written then), "He was that minute ready to deliver his soul into his Hands, if that minute God would determine his dissolution." In that sickness he begged of God the constancy to be preserved in that estate for ever; and his patient expectation to have his immortal soul disrobed from her garment of mortality, makes me confident that he now had a modest assurance that his prayers were then heard, and his petition granted. He lay fifteen days earnestly expecting his hourly change; and in the last hour of his last day, as his body melted away, and vapoured into spirit, his soul having, I verily believe, some revelation of the beatifical vision, he said, "I were miserable if I might not die"; and after those words, closed many periods of his faint breath by saying often, "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done." His speech, which had long been his ready and faithful servant, left him not till the last minute of his life, and then forsook him, not to serve another master--for who speaks like him,--but died before him; for that it was then become useless to him, that now conversed with God on earth as Angels are said to do in heaven, only by thoughts and looks. Being speechless, and seeing heaven by that illumination by which he saw it, he did, as St. Stephen, "look stedfastly into it, till he saw the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God His Father"; and being satisfied with this blessed sight, as his soul ascended, and his last breath departed from him, he closed his own eyes, and then disposed his hands and body into such a posture, as required not the least alteration by those that came to shroud him.

Thus variable, thus virtuous was the life; thus excellent, thus exemplary was the death of this memorable man.

He was buried in that place of St. Paul's Church, which he had appointed for that use some years before his death; and by which he passed daily to pay his public devotions to Almighty God--who was then served twice a day by a public form of prayer and praises in that place; but he was not buried privately, though he desired it; for, beside an unnumbered number of others, many persons of nobility, and of eminence for learning, who did love and honour him in his life, did show it at his death, by a voluntary and sad attendance of his body to the grave, where nothing was so remarkable as a public sorrow.

To which place of his burial some mournful friends repaired, and, as Alexander the Great did to the grave of the famous Achilles, so they strewed his with an abundance of curious and costly flowers; which course they--who were never yet known--continued morning and evening for many days, not ceasing till the stones that were taken up in that Church to give his body admission into the cold earth--now his bed of rest--were again by the mason's art so levelled and firmed as they had been formerly, and his place of burial undistinguishable to common view.

The next day after his burial some unknown friend, some one of the many lovers and admirers of his virtue and learning, writ this epitaph with a coal on the wall over his grave:--

"Reader! I am to let thee know, Donne's body only lies below; For, could the grave his soul comprise, Earth would be richer than the skies!"

Nor was this all the honour done to his reverend ashes; for, as there be some persons that will not receive a reward for that for which God accounts Himself a debtor; persons that dare trust God with their charity, and without a witness; so there was by some grateful unknown friend, that thought Dr. Donne's memory ought to be perpetuated, an hundred marks sent to his faithful friends and executors (Dr. King and Dr. Montford), towards the making of his monument. It was not for many years known by whom; but, after the death of Dr. Fox, it was known that it was he that sent it; and he lived to see as lively a representation of his dead friend as marble can express: a statue indeed so like Dr. Donne, that--as his friend Sir Henry Wotton hath expressed himself--"It seems to breathe faintly, and posterity shall look upon it as a kind of artificial miracle."

He was of stature moderately tall; of a straight and equally-proportioned body, to which all his words and actions gave an unexpressible addition of comeliness.

The melancholy and pleasant humour were in him so contempered, that each gave advantage to the other, and made his company one of the delights of mankind.

His fancy was unimitably high, equalled only by his great wit; both being made useful by a commanding judgment.

His aspect was cheerful, and such as gave a silent testimony of a clear knowing soul, and of a conscience at peace with itself.

His melting eye showed that he had a soft heart, full of noble compassion; of too brave a soul to offer injuries, and too much a Christian not to pardon them in others.

He did much contemplate--especially after he entered into his sacred calling--the mercies of Almighty God, the immortality of the soul, and the joys of heaven: and would often say in a kind of sacred ecstacy--"Blessed be God that He is God, only and divinely like Himself."

He was by nature highly passionate, but more apt to reluct at the excesses of it. A great lover of the offices of humanity, and of so merciful a spirit that he never beheld the miseries of mankind without pity and relief.

He was earnest and unwearied in the search of knowledge, with which his vigorous soul is now satisfied, and employed in a continual praise of that God that first breathed it into his active body: that body which once was a temple of the Holy Ghost, and is now become a small quantity of Christian dust:--

But I shall see it re-animated.

I.W. Devotions Vpon

I.W.

DEVOTIONS VPON Emergent Occasions and seuerall steps in my Sicknes.

Digested into

1. MEDITATIONS _upon our Humane Condition_.

2. EXPOSTULATIONS, _and Debatements with God_.

3. PRAYERS, _upon the severall occasions, to him_.

* * * * *

By IOHN DONNE, _Deane of S. Pauls_, London.

* * * * *

London

Printed by _A. M._ for THOMAS IONES. 1624.

_TO THE MOST EXCELLENT PRINCE_,

Prince Charles

PRINCE CHARLES.

_MOST EXCELLENT PRINCE_,

I have had three births; one, natural, when I came into the world; one, supernatural, when I entered into the ministry; and now, a preternatural birth, in returning to life, from this sickness. In my second birth, your Highness' royal father vouchsafed me his hand, not only to sustain me in it, but to lead me to it. In this last birth, I myself am born a father: this child of mine, this book, comes into the world, from me, and with me. And therefore, I presume (as I did the father, to the Father) to present the son to the Son; this image of my humiliation, to the lively image of his Majesty, your Highness. It might be enough, that God hath seen my devotions: but examples of good kings are commandments; and Hezekiah writ the meditations of his sickness, after his sickness. Besides, as I have lived to see (not as a witness only, but as a partaker), the happiness of a part of your royal father's time, so shall I live (in my way) to see the happiness of the times of your Highness too, if this child of mine, inanimated by your gracious acceptation, may so long preserve alive the memory of

Your Highness humblest and devotedest,

John Donne. Contents

JOHN DONNE.

CONTENTS

_The Stations of the Sickness_

PAGE

1. The first alteration, the first grudging of the sickness 7

2. The strength and the function of the senses, and other faculties, change and fail 12

3. The patient takes his bed 17

4. The physician is sent for 23

5. The physician comes 30

6. The physician is afraid 35

7. The physician desires to have others joined with him 43

8. The king sends his own physician 50

9. Upon their consultation, they prescribe 56

10. They find the disease to steal on insensibly, and endeavor to meet with it so 63

11. They use cordials, to keep the venom and the malignity of the disease from the heart 69

12. They apply pigeons, to draw the vapours from the head 77

13. The sickness declares the infection and malignity thereof by spots 83

14. The Physicians observe these accidents to have fallen upon the critical days 88

15. I sleep not day or night 96

16. From the bells of the church adjoining, I am daily remembered of my burial in the funerals of others 102

17. Now, this bell tolling softly for another, says to me, Thou must die 107

18. The bell rings out, and tells me in him, that I am dead 114

19. At last the physicians, after a long and stormy voyage, see land: They have so good signs of the concoction of the disease, as that they may safely proceed to purge 122

20. Upon these indications of digested matter, they proceed to purge 131

21. God prospers their practice, and he, by them, calls Lazarus out of his tomb, me out of my bed 138

22. The physicians consider the root and occasion, the embers, and coals, and fuel of the disease, and seek to purge or correct that 145

23. They warn me of the fearful danger of relapsing 152

_DEVOTIONS_

I Insultus Morbi Primus

I

INSULTUS MORBI PRIMUS.

_The first Alteration, the first Grudging, of the Sickness._

I. Meditation

I. MEDITATION.

Variable, and therefore miserable condition of man! this minute I was well, and am ill, this minute. I am surprised with a sudden change, and alteration to worse, and can impute it to no cause, nor call it by any name. We study health, and we deliberate upon our meats, and drink, and air, and exercises, and we hew and we polish every stone that goes to that building; and so our health is a long and a regular work: but in a minute a cannon batters all, overthrows all, demolishes all; a sickness unprevented for all our diligence, unsuspected for all our curiosity; nay, undeserved, if we consider only disorder, summons us, seizes us, possesses us, destroys us in an instant. O miserable condition of man! which was not imprinted by God, who, as he is immortal himself, had put a coal, a beam of immortality into us, which we might have blown into a flame, but blew it out by our first sin; we beggared ourselves by hearkening after false riches, and infatuated ourselves by hearkening after false knowledge. So that now, we do not only die, but die upon the rack, die by the torment of sickness; nor that only, but are pre-afflicted, super-afflicted with these jealousies and suspicions and apprehensions of sickness, before we can call it a sickness: we are not sure we are ill; one hand asks the other by the pulse, and our eye asks our own urine how we do. O multiplied misery! we die, and cannot enjoy death, because we die in this torment of sickness; we are tormented with sickness, and cannot stay till the torment come, but pre-apprehensions and presages prophesy those torments which induce that death before either come; and our dissolution is conceived in these first changes, quickened in the sickness itself, and born in death, which bears date from these first changes. Is this the honour which man hath by being a little world, that he hath these earthquakes in himself, sudden shakings; these lightnings, sudden flashes; these thunders, sudden noises; these eclipses, sudden offuscations and darkening of his senses; these blazing stars, sudden fiery exhalations; these rivers of blood, sudden red waters? Is he a world to himself only therefore, that he hath enough in himself, not only to destroy and execute himself, but to presage that execution upon himself; to assist the sickness, to antedate the sickness, to make the sickness the more irremediable by sad apprehensions, and, as if he would make a fire the more vehement by sprinkling water upon the coals, so to wrap a hot fever in cold melancholy, lest the fever alone should not destroy fast enough without this contribution, nor perfect the work (which is destruction) except we joined an artificial sickness of our own melancholy, to our natural, our unnatural fever. O perplexed discomposition, O riddling distemper, O miserable condition of man!

I. Expostulation

I. EXPOSTULATION.

If I were but mere dust and ashes I might speak unto the Lord, for the Lord's hand made me of this dust, and the Lord's hand shall re-collect these ashes; the Lord's hand was the wheel upon which this vessel of clay was framed, and the Lord's hand is the urn in which these ashes shall be preserved. I am the dust and the ashes of the temple of the Holy Ghost, and what marble is so precious? But I am more than dust and ashes: I am my best part, I am my soul. And being so, the breath of God, I may breathe back these pious expostulations to my God: My God, my God, why is not my soul as sensible as my body? Why hath not my soul these apprehensions, these presages, these changes, these antidates, these jealousies, these suspicions of a sin, as well as my body of a sickness? Why is there not always a pulse in my soul to beat at the approach of a temptation to sin? Why are there not always waters in mine eyes, to testify my spiritual sickness? I stand in the way of temptations, naturally, necessarily; all men do so; for there is a snake in every path, temptations in every vocation; but I go, I run, I fly into the ways of temptation which I might shun; nay, I break into houses where the plague is; I press into places of temptation, and tempt the devil himself, and solicit and importune them who had rather be left unsolicited by me. I fall sick of sin, and am bedded and bedrid, buried and putrified in the practice of sin, and all this while have no presage, no pulse, no sense of my sickness. O height, O depth of misery, where the first symptom of the sickness is hell, and where I never see the fever of lust, of envy, of ambition, by any other light than the darkness and horror of hell itself, and where the first messenger that speaks to me doth not say, "Thou mayest die," no, nor "Thou must die," but "Thou art dead;" and where the first notice that my soul hath of her sickness is irrecoverableness, irremediableness: but, O my God, Job did not charge thee foolishly in his temporal afflictions, nor may I in my spiritual. Thou hast imprinted a pulse in our soul, but we do not examine it; a voice in our conscience, but we do not hearken unto it. We talk it out, we jest it out, we drink it out, we sleep it out; and when we wake, we do not say with Jacob, _Surely the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not_: but though we might know it, we do not, we will not. But will God pretend to make a watch, and leave out the spring? to make so many various wheels in the faculties of the soul, and in the organs of the body, and leave out grace, that should move them? or will God make a spring, and not wind it up? Infuse his first grace, and not second it with more, without which we can no more use his first grace when we have it, than we could dispose ourselves by nature to have it? But alas, that is not our case; we are all prodigal sons, and not disinherited; we have received our portion, and mispent it, not been denied it. We are God's tenants here, and yet here, he, our landlord, pays us rents; not yearly, nor quarterly, but hourly, and quarterly; every minute he renews his mercy, but we _will not understand, lest that we should be converted, and he should heal us_.[1]

I. Prayer

I. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who, considered in thyself, art a circle, first and last, and altogether; but, considered in thy working upon us, art a direct line, and leadest us from our beginning, through all our ways, to our end, enable me by thy grace to look forward to mine end, and to look backward too, to the considerations of thy mercies afforded me from the beginning; that so by that practice of considering thy mercy, in my beginning in this world, when thou plantedst me in the Christian church, and thy mercy in the beginning in the other world, when thou writest me in the book of life, in my election, I may come to a holy consideration of thy mercy in the beginning of all my actions here: that in all the beginnings, in all the accesses and approaches, of spiritual sicknesses of sin, I may hear and hearken to that voice, _O thou man of God, there is death in the pot_,[2] and so refrain from that which I was so hungerly, so greedily flying to. _A faithful ambassador is health_,[3] says thy wise servant Solomon. Thy voice received in the beginning of a sickness, of a sin, is true health. If I can see that light betimes, and hear that voice early, _Then shall my light break forth as the morning, and my health shall spring forth speedily_.[4] Deliver me therefore, O my God, from these vain imaginations; that it is an over-curious thing, a dangerous thing, to come to that tenderness, that rawness, that scrupulousness, to fear every concupiscence, every offer of sin, that this suspicious and jealous diligence will turn to an inordinate dejection of spirit, and a diffidence in thy care and providence; but keep me still established, both in a constant assurance, that thou wilt speak to me at the beginning of every such sickness, at the approach of every such sin; and that, if I take knowledge of that voice then, and fly to thee, thou wilt preserve me from falling, or raise me again, when by natural infirmity I am fallen. Do this, O Lord, for his sake, who knows our natural infirmities, for he had them, and knows the weight of our sins, for he paid a dear price for them, thy Son, our Saviour, Christ Jesus. Amen.

II. POST ACTIO LÆSA.

_The Strength and the function of the senses, and other faculties, change and fail._

Ii. Meditation

II. MEDITATION.

The heavens are not the less constant, because they move continually, because they move continually one and the same way. The earth is not the more constant, because it lies still continually, because continually it changes and melts in all the parts thereof. Man, who is the noblest part of the earth, melts so away, as if he were a statue, not of earth, but of snow. We see his own envy melts him, he grows lean with that; he will say, another's beauty melts him; but he feels that a fever doth not melt him like snow, but pour him out like lead, like iron, like brass melted in a furnace; it doth not only melt him, but calcine him, reduce him to atoms, and to ashes; not to water, but to lime. And how quickly? Sooner than thou canst receive an answer, sooner than thou canst conceive the question; earth is the centre of my body, heaven is the centre of my soul; these two are the natural places of these two; but those go not to these two in an equal pace: my body falls down without pushing; my soul does not go up without pulling; ascension is my soul's pace and measure, but precipitation my body's. And even angels, whose home is heaven, and who are winged too, yet had a ladder to go to heaven by steps. The sun which goes so many miles in a minute, the stars of the firmament which go so very many more, go not so fast as my body to the earth. In the same instant that I feel the first attempt of the disease, I feel the victory; in the twinkling of an eye I can scarce see; instantly the taste is insipid and fatuous; instantly the appetite is dull and desireless; instantly the knees are sinking and strengthless; and in an instant, sleep, which is the picture, the copy of death, is taken away, that the original, death itself, may succeed, and that so I might have death to the life. It was part of Adam's punishment, _In the sweat of thy brows thou shalt eat thy bread_: it is multiplied to me, I have earned bread in the sweat of my brows, in the labour of my calling, and I have it; and I sweat again and again, from the brow to the sole of the foot, but I eat no bread, I taste no sustenance: miserable distribution of mankind, where one half lacks meat, and the other stomach!

Ii. Expostulation

II. EXPOSTULATION.

David professes himself a dead dog to his king Saul,[5] and so doth Mephibosheth to his king David,[6] and yet David speaks to Saul, and Mephibosheth to David. No man is so little, in respect of the greatest man, as the greatest in respect of God; for here, in that, we have not so much as a measure to try it by; proportion is no measure for infinity. He that hath no more of this world but a grave; he that hath his grave but lent him till a better man or another man must be buried in the same grave; he that hath no grave but a dunghill, he that hath no more earth but that which he carries, but that which he is, he that hath not that earth which he is, but even in that is another's slave, hath as much proportion to God, as if all David's worthies, and all the world's monarchs, and all imagination's giants, were kneaded and incorporated into one, and as though that one were the survivor of all the sons of men, to whom God had given the world. And therefore how little soever I be, as _God calls things that are not, as though they were_, I, who am as though I were not, may call upon God, and say, My God, my God, why comes thine anger so fast upon me? Why dost thou melt me, scatter me, pour me like water upon the ground so instantly? Thou stayedst for the first world, in Noah's time, one hundred and twenty years; thou stayedst for a rebellious generation in the wilderness forty years, wilt thou stay no minute for me? Wilt thou make thy process and thy decree, thy citation and thy judgment, but one act? Thy summons, thy battle, thy victory, thy triumph, all but one act; and lead me captive, nay, deliver me captive to death, as soon as thou declarest me to be enemy, and so cut me off even with the drawing of thy sword out of the scabbard, and for that question, How long was he sick? leave no other answer, but that the hand of death pressed upon him from the first minute? My God, my God, thou wast not wont to come in whirlwinds, but in soft and gentle air. Thy first breath breathed a soul into me, and shall thy breath blow it out? Thy breath in the congregation, thy word in the church, breathes communion and consolation here, and consummation hereafter; shall thy breath in this chamber breathe dissolution and destruction, divorce and separation? Surely it is not thou, it is not thy hand. The devouring sword, the consuming fire, the winds from the wilderness, the diseases of the body, all that afflicted Job, were from the hands of Satan; it is not thou. It is thou, thou my God, who hast led me so continually with thy hand, from the hand of my nurse, as that I know thou wilt not correct me, but with thine own hand. My parents would not give me over to a servant's correction, nor my God to Satan's. I am _fallen into the hands of God_ with David, and with David I see that his mercies are great.[7] For by that mercy, I consider in my present state, not the haste and the despatch of the disease, in dissolving this body, so much as the much more haste and despatch, which my God shall use, in re-collecting and re-uniting this dust again at the resurrection. Then I shall hear his angels proclaim the _Surgite mortui_, Rise, ye dead. Though I be dead, I shall hear the voice; the sounding of the voice and the working of the voice shall be all one; and all shall rise there in a less minute than any one dies here.

Ii. Prayer

II. PRAYER.

O most gracious God, who pursuest and perfectest thine own purposes, and dost not only remember me, by the first accesses of this sickness, that I must die, but inform me, by this further proceeding therein, that I may die now; who hast not only waked me with the first, but called me up, by casting me further down, and clothed me with thyself, by stripping me of my self, and by dulling my bodily senses to the meats and eases of this world, hast whet and sharpened my spiritual senses to the apprehension of thee; by what steps and degrees soever it shall please thee to go, in the dissolution of this body, hasten, O Lord, that pace, and multiply, O my God, those degrees, in the exaltation of my soul toward thee now, and to thee then. My taste is not gone away, but gone up to sit at David's table, _to taste, and see, that the Lord is good_.[8] My stomach is not gone, but gone up, so far upwards toward the _supper of the Lamb_, with thy saints in heaven, as to the table, to the communion of thy saints here in earth. My knees are weak, but weak therefore that I should easily fall to and fix myself long upon my devotions to thee. _A sound heart is the life of the flesh_;[9] and a heart visited by thee, and directed to thee, by that visitation is a sound heart. _There is no soundness in my flesh, because of thine anger._[10] Interpret thine own work, and call this sickness correction, and not anger, and there is soundness in my flesh. _There is no rest in my bones, because of my sin_;[11] transfer my sins, with which thou art so displeased, upon him with whom thou art so well pleased, Christ Jesus, and there will be rest in my bones. And, O my God, who madest thyself a light in a bush, in the midst of these brambles and thorns of a sharp sickness, appear unto me so that I may see thee, and know thee to be my God, applying thyself to me, even in these sharp and thorny passages. Do this, O Lord, for his sake, who was not the less the King of heaven for thy suffering him to be crowned with thorns in this world.

Footnotes:

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Matt. xiii. 15.

[2] 2 Kings, iv. 40.

[3] Prov. xiii. 17.

[4] Isaiah, lviii. 8.

[5] 1 Sam. xxiv. 15.

[6] 2 Sam. ix. 8.

[7] 2 Sam. xxiv. 14.

[8] Psalm xxxiv. 8.

[9] Prov. xiv. 30.

[10] Psalm xxxviii. 3.

[11] Psalm xxxviii. 3.

Iii. Decubitus Sequitur Tandem

III. DECUBITUS SEQUITUR TANDEM.

_The patient takes his bed._

Iii. Meditation

III. MEDITATION.

We attribute but one privilege and advantage to man's body above other moving creatures, that he is not, as others, grovelling, but of an erect, of an upright, form naturally built and disposed to the contemplation of heaven. Indeed it is a thankful form, and recompenses that soul, which gives it, with carrying that soul so many feet higher towards heaven. Other creatures look to the earth; and even that is no unfit object, no unfit contemplation for man, for thither he must come; but because man is not to stay there, as other creatures are, man in his natural form is carried to the contemplation of that place which is his home, heaven. This is man's prerogative; but what state hath he in this dignity? A fever can fillip him down, a fever can depose him; a fever can bring that head, which yesterday carried a crown of gold five feet towards a crown of glory, as low as his own foot to-day. When God came to breathe into man the breath of life, he found him flat upon the ground; when he comes to withdraw that breath from him again, he prepares him to it by laying him flat upon his bed. Scarce any prison so close that affords not the prisoner two or three steps. The anchorites that barked themselves up in hollow trees and immured themselves in hollow walls, that perverse man that barrelled himself in a tub, all could stand or sit, and enjoy some change of posture. A sick bed is a grave, and all that the patient says there is but a varying of his own epitaph. Every night's bed is a type of the grave; at night we tell our servants at what hour we will rise, here we cannot tell ourselves at what day, what week, what month. Here the head lies as low as the foot; the head of the people as low as they whom those feet trod upon; and that hand that signed pardons is too weak to beg his own, if he might have it for lifting up that hand. Strange fetters to the feet, strange manacles to the hands, when the feet and hands are bound so much the faster, by how much the cords are slacker; so much the less able to do their offices, by how much more the sinews and ligaments are the looser. In the grave I may speak through the stones, in the voice of my friends, and in the accents of those words which their love may afford my memory; here I am mine own ghost, and rather affright my beholders than instruct them; they conceive the worst of me now, and yet fear worse; they give me for dead now, and yet wonder how I do when they wake at midnight, and ask how I do to-morrow. Miserable, and (though common to all) inhuman posture, where I must practise my lying in the grave by lying still, and not practise my resurrection by rising any more.

Iii. Expostulation

III. EXPOSTULATION.

My God and my Jesus, my Lord and my Christ, my strength and my salvation, I hear thee, and I hearken to thee, when thou rebukest thy disciples, for rebuking them who brought children to thee; _Suffer little children to come to me_, sayest thou.[12] Is there a verier child than I am now? I cannot say, with thy servant Jeremy, _Lord, I am a child, and cannot speak_; but, O Lord, I am a sucking child, and cannot eat; a creeping child, and cannot go; how shall I come to thee? Whither shall I come to thee? To this bed? I have this weak and childish frowardness too, I cannot sit up, and yet am loth to go to bed. Shall I find thee in bed? Oh, have I always done so? The bed is not ordinarily thy scene, thy climate: Lord, dost thou not accuse me, dost thou not reproach to me my former sins, when thou layest me upon this bed? Is not this to hang a man at his own door, to lay him sick in his own bed of wantonness? When thou chidest us by thy prophet for lying in _beds of ivory_[13], is not thine anger vented; not till thou changest our beds of ivory into beds of ebony? David swears unto thee, _that he will not go up into his bed, till he had built thee a house_.[14] To go up into the bed denotes strength, and promises ease; but when thou sayest, _that thou wilt cast Jezebel into a bed_, thou makest thine own comment upon that; thou callest the bed tribulation, great tribulation.[15] How shall they come to thee whom thou hast nailed to their bed? Thou art in the congregation, and I in a solitude: when the centurion's servant lay sick at home,[16] his master was fain to come to Christ; the sick man could not. Their friend lay sick of the palsy, and the four charitable men were fain to bring him to Christ; he could not come.[17] Peter's wife's mother lay sick of a fever, and Christ came to her; she could not come to him.[18] My friends may carry me home to thee, in their prayers in the congregation; thou must come home to me in the visitation of thy Spirit, and in the seal of thy sacrament. But when I am cast into this bed my slack sinews are iron fetters, and those thin sheets iron doors upon me; and, _Lord, I have loved the habitation of thine house, and the place where thine honour dwelleth_.[19] I lie here and say, _Blessed are they that dwell in thy house_;[20] but I cannot say, _I will come into thy house_; I may say, _In thy fear will I worship towards thy holy temple_;[21] but I cannot say in thy holy temple. And, _Lord, the zeal of thy house eats me up_,[22] as fast as my fever; it is not a recusancy, for I would come, but it is an excommunication, I must not. But, Lord, thou art Lord of hosts, and lovest action; why callest thou me from my calling? _In the grave no man shall praise thee_; in the door of the grave, this sick bed, no man shall hear me praise thee. Thou hast not opened my lips that my mouth might show thee thy praise, but that my mouth might show forth thy praise. But thine apostle's fear takes hold of me, _that when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway_;[23] and therefore am I cast down, that I might not be cast away. Thou couldst take me by the head, as thou didst Habbakuk, and carry me so; by a chariot, as thou didst Elijah,[24] and carry me so; but thou carriest me thine own private way, the way by which thou carriedst thy Son, who first lay upon the earth and prayed, and then had his exaltation, as himself calls his crucifying; and first descended into hell, and then had his ascension. There is another station (indeed neither are stations but prostrations) lower than this bed; to-morrow I may be laid one story lower, upon the floor, the face of the earth; and next day another story, in the grave, the womb of the earth. As yet God suspends me between heaven and earth, as a meteor; and I am not in heaven because an earthly body clogs me, and I am not in the earth because a heavenly soul sustains me. And it is thine own law, O God, that _if a man be smitten so by another, as that he keep his bed, though he die not, he that hurt him must take care of his healing, and recompense him_[25]. Thy hand strikes me into this bed; and therefore, if I rise again, thou wilt be my recompense all the days of my life, in making the memory of this sickness beneficial to me; and if my body fall yet lower, thou wilt take my soul out of this bath, and present it to thy Father, washed again, and again, and again, in thine own tears, in thine own sweat, in thine own blood.

Iii. Prayer

III. PRAYER.

O most mighty and most merciful God, who, though thou have taken me off of my feet, hast not taken me off of my foundation, which is thyself; who, though thou have removed me from that upright form in which I could stand and see thy throne, the heavens, yet hast not removed from me that light by which I can lie and see thyself; who, though thou have weakened my bodily knees, that they cannot bow to thee, hast yet left me the knees of my heart; which are bowed unto thee evermore; as thou hast made this bed thine altar, make me thy sacrifice; and as thou makest thy Son Christ Jesus the priest, so make me his deacon, to minister to him in a cheerful surrender of my body and soul to thy pleasure, by his hands. I come unto thee, O God, my God, I come unto thee, so as I can come, I come to thee, by embracing thy coming to me, I come in the confidence, and in the application of thy servant David's promise, _that thou wilt make all my bed in my sickness_;[26] all my bed; that which way soever I turn, I may turn to thee; and as I feel thy hand upon all my body, so I may find it upon all my bed, and see all my corrections, and all my refreshings to flow from one and the same, and all from thy hand. As thou hast made these feathers thorns, in the sharpness of this sickness, so, Lord, make these thorns feathers again, feathers of thy dove, in the peace of conscience, and in a holy recourse to thine ark, to the instruments of true comfort, in thy institutions and in the ordinances of thy church. Forget my bed, O Lord, as it hath been a bed of sloth, and worse than sloth; take me not, O Lord, at this advantage, to terrify my soul with saying, Now I have met thee there where thou hast so often departed from me; but having burnt up that bed by these vehement heats, and washed that bed in these abundant sweats, make my bed again, O Lord, and enable me, according to thy command, _to commune with mine own heart upon my bed, and be still_[27]; to provide a bed for all my former sins whilst I lie upon this bed, and a grave for my sins before I come to my grave; and when I have deposited them in the wounds of thy Son, to rest in that assurance, that my conscience is discharged from further anxiety, and my soul from further danger, and my memory from further calumny. Do this, O Lord, for his sake, who did and suffered so much, that thou mightest, as well in thy justice as in thy mercy, do it for me, thy Son, our Saviour, Christ Jesus.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] Matt. xix. 13.

[13] Amos, vi. 4.

[14] Psalm cxxxii. 3.

[15] Rev. ii. 22.

[16] Matt. viii. 6.

[17] Matt. viii. 4.

[18] Matt. viii. 14.

[19] Psalm xxvi. 8.

[20] Psalm lxxxiv. 4.

[21] Psalm v. 7.

[22] Psalm lxix. 9.

[23] 1 Cor. ix. 27.

[24] 2 Kings, ii. 11.

[25] Exodus, xxi. 18.

[26] Psalm xli. 3.

[27] Psalm iv. 4.

Iv. Medicusque Vocatur

IV. MEDICUSQUE VOCATUR.

_The physician is sent for._

Iv. Meditation

IV. MEDITATION.

It is too little to call man a little world; except God, man is a diminutive to nothing. Man consists of more pieces, more parts, than the world; than the world doth, nay, than the world is. And if those pieces were extended, and stretched out in man as they are in the world, man would be the giant, and the world the dwarf; the world but the map, and the man the world. If all the veins in our bodies were extended to rivers, and all the sinews to veins of mines, and all the muscles that lie upon one another, to hills, and all the bones to quarries of stones, and all the other pieces to the proportion of those which correspond to them in the world, the air would be too little for this orb of man to move in, the firmament would be but enough for this star; for, as the whole world hath nothing, to which something in man doth not answer, so hath man many pieces of which the whole world hath no representation. Enlarge this meditation upon this great world, man, so far as to consider the immensity of the creatures this world produces; our creatures are our thoughts, creatures that are born giants; that reach from east to west, from earth to heaven; that do not only bestride all the sea and land, but span the sun and firmament at once; my thoughts reach all, comprehend all. Inexplicable mystery; I their creator am in a close prison, in a sick bed, any where, and any one of my creatures, my thoughts, is with the sun, and beyond the sun, overtakes the sun, and overgoes the sun in one pace, one step, everywhere. And then, as the other world produces serpents and vipers, malignant and venomous creatures, and worms and caterpillars, that endeavour to devour that world which produces them, and monsters compiled and complicated of divers parents and kinds; so this world, ourselves, produces all these in us, in producing diseases, and sicknesses of all those sorts: venomous and infectious diseases, feeding and consuming diseases, and manifold and entangled diseases made up of many several ones. And can the other world name so many venomous, so many consuming, so many monstrous creatures, as we can diseases of all these kinds? O miserable abundance, O beggarly riches! how much do we lack of having remedies for every disease, when as yet we have not names for them? But we have a Hercules against these giants, these monsters; that is, the physician; he musters up all the forces of the other world to succour this, all nature to relieve man. We have the physician, but we are not the physician. Here we shrink in our proportion, sink in our dignity, in respect of very mean creatures, who are physicians to themselves. The hart that is pursued and wounded, they say, knows an herb, which being eaten throws off the arrow: a strange kind of vomit. The dog that pursues it, though he be subject to sickness, even proverbially, knows his grass that recovers him. And it may be true, that the drugger is as near to man as to other creatures; it may be that obvious and present simples, easy to be had, would cure him; but the apothecary is not so near him, nor the physician so near him, as they two are to other creatures; man hath not that innate instinct, to apply those natural medicines to his present danger, as those inferior creatures have; he is not his own apothecary, his own physician, as they are. Call back therefore thy meditation again, and bring it down: what's become of man's great extent and proportion, when himself shrinks himself and consumes himself to a handful of dust; what's become of his soaring thoughts, his compassing thoughts, when himself brings himself to the ignorance, to the thoughtlessness, of the grave? His diseases are his own, but the physician is not; he hath them at home, but he must send for the physician.

Iv. Expostulation

IV. EXPOSTULATION.

I have not the righteousness of Job, but I have the desire of Job: _I would speak to the Almighty, and I would reason with God_.[28] My God, my God, how soon wouldst thou have me go to the physician, and how far wouldst thou have me go with the physician? I know thou hast made the matter, and the man, and the art; and I go not from thee when I go to the physician. Thou didst not make clothes before there was a shame of the nakedness of the body, but thou didst make physic before there was any grudging of any sickness; for thou didst imprint a medicinal virtue in many simples, even from the beginning; didst thou mean that we should be sick when thou didst so? when thou madest them? No more than thou didst mean, that we should sin, when thou madest us: thou foresawest both, but causedst neither. Thou, Lord, promisest here trees, _whose fruit shall be for meat, and their leaves for medicine_.[29] It is the voice of thy Son, _Wilt thou be made whole?_[30] that draws from the patient a confession that he was ill, and could not make himself well. And it is thine own voice, _Is there no physician?_[31] that inclines us, disposes us, to accept thine ordinance. And it is the voice of the wise man, both for the matter, physic itself, _The Lord hath created medicines out of the earth, and he that is wise shall not abhor them_,[32] and for the art, and the person, the physician cutteth off a long disease. In all these voices thou sendest us to those helps which thou hast afforded us in that. But wilt not thou avow that voice too, _He that hath sinned against his Maker, let him fall into the hands of the physician_;[33] and wilt not thou afford me an understanding of those words? Thou, who sendest us for a blessing to the physician, dost not make it a curse to us to go when thou sendest. Is not the curse rather in this, that only he falls into the hands of the physician, that casts himself wholly, entirely upon the physician, confides in him, relies upon him, attends all from him, and neglects that spiritual physic which thou also hast instituted in thy church. So to fall into the hands of the physician is a sin, and a punishment of former sins; so, as Asa fell, who in his disease _sought not to the Lord, but to the physician_.[34] Reveal therefore to me thy method, O Lord, and see whether I have followed it; that thou mayest have glory, if I have, and I pardon, if I have not, and help that I may. Thy method is, _In time of thy sickness, be not negligent_: wherein wilt thou have my diligence expressed? _Pray unto the Lord, and he will make thee whole._[35] O Lord, I do; I pray, and pray thy servant David's prayer, _Have mercy upon me, O Lord, for I am weak; heal me, O Lord, for my bones are vexed_:[36] I know that even my weakness is a reason, a motive, to induce thy mercy, and my sickness an occasion of thy sending health. When art thou so ready, when is it so seasonable to thee, to commiserate, as in misery? But is prayer for health in season, as soon as I am sick? Thy method goes further: _Leave off from sin, and order thy hands aright, and cleanse thy heart from all wickedness_.[37] Have I, O Lord, done so? O Lord, I have; by thy grace, I am come to a holy detestation of my former sin. Is there any more? In thy method there is more: _Give a sweet savour, and a memorial of fine flour, and make a fat offering, as not being_.[38] And, Lord, by thy grace, I have done that, sacrificed a little of that little which thou lentest me, to them for whom thou lentest it: and now in thy method, and by thy steps, I am come to that, _Then give place to the physician, for the Lord hath created him; let him not go from thee, for thou hast need of him_.[39] I send for the physician, but I will hear him enter with those words of Peter, _Jesus Christ maketh thee whole_;[40] I long for his presence, but I look _that the power of the Lord should be present to heal me_.[41]

Iv. Prayer

IV. PRAYER.

O most mighty and most merciful God, who art so the God of health and strength, as that without thee all health is but the fuel, and all strength but the bellows of sin; behold me under the vehemence of two diseases, and under the necessity of two physicians, authorized by thee, the bodily, and the spiritual physician. I come to both as to thine ordinance, and bless and glorify thy name that, in both cases, thou hast afforded help to man by the ministry of man. Even in the new Jerusalem, in heaven itself, it hath pleased thee to discover a tree, which is _a tree of life there, but the leaves thereof are for the healing of the nations_.[42] Life itself is with thee there, for thou art life; and all kinds of health, wrought upon us here by thine instruments, descend from thence. _Thou wouldst have healed Babylon, but she is not healed._[43] Take from me, O Lord, her perverseness, her wilfulness, her refractoriness, and hear thy Spirit saying in my soul: Heal me, O Lord, for I would be healed. _Ephraim saw his sickness, and Judah his wound; then went Ephraim to the Assyrian, and sent to King Jareb, yet could not he heal you, nor cure you of your wound._[44] Keep me back, O Lord, from them who misprofess arts of healing the soul, or of the body, by means not imprinted by thee in the church for the soul, or not in nature for the body. There is no spiritual health to be had by superstition, nor bodily by witchcraft; thou, Lord, and only thou, art Lord of both. Thou in thyself art Lord of both, and thou in thy Son art the physician, the applier of both. _With his stripes we are healed_,[45] says the prophet there; there, before he was scourged, we were healed with his stripes; how much more shall I be healed now, now when that which he hath already suffered actually is actually and effectually applied to me? Is there any thing incurable, upon which that balm drops? Any vein so empty as that that blood cannot fill it? Thou promisest to heal the earth;[46] but it is when the inhabitants of the earth _pray that thou wouldst heal it_. Thou promisest to heal their waters, but _their miry places and standing waters_, thou sayest there, _thou wilt not heal_.[47] My returning to any sin, if I should return to the ability of sinning over all my sins again, thou wouldst not pardon. Heal this earth, O my God, by repentant tears, and heal these waters, these tears, from all bitterness, from all diffidence, from all dejection, by establishing my irremovable assurance in thee. _Thy Son went about healing all manner of sickness._[48] (No disease incurable, none difficult; he healed them in passing). _Virtue went out of him, and he healed all_,[49] all the multitude (no person incurable), he healed them _every whit_[50] (as himself speaks), he left no relics of the disease; and will this universal physician pass by this hospital, and not visit me? not heal me? not heal me wholly? Lord, I look not that thou shouldst say by thy messenger to me, as to Hezekiah, _Behold, I will heal thee, and on the third day thou shalt go up to the house of the Lord_.[51] I look not that thou shouldst say to me, as to Moses in Miriam's behalf, when Moses would have had her healed presently, _If her father had but spit in her face, should she not have been ashamed seven days? Let her be shut up seven days, and then return_;[52] but if thou be pleased to multiply seven days (and seven is infinite) by the number of my sins (and that is more infinite), if this day must remove me till days shall be no more, seal to me my spiritual health, in affording me the seals of thy church; and for my temporal health, prosper thine ordinance, in their hands who shall assist in this sickness, in that manner, and in that measure, as may most glorify thee, and most edify those who observe the issues of thy servants, to their own spiritual benefit.

FOOTNOTES:

[28] Job, xiii. 3.

[29] Ezek. xlvii. 12.

[30] John, v. 6.

[31] Jer. viii. 22.

[32] Ecclus. xxxviii. 4.

[33] Ecclus. xxxviii. 15.

[34] 1 Chron. xvi. 12.

[35] Ecclus. xxxviii. 9.

[36] Psalm vi. 2.

[37] Ecclus. xxxviii. 10.

[38] Ecclus. xxxviii. 11.

[39] Ecclus. xxxviii. 12.

[40] Acts, ix. 34.

[41] Luke, v. 17.

[42] Rev. xxii. 2.

[43] Jer. li. 9.

[44] Hosea, v. 13.

[45] Isaiah, liii. 5.

[46] 2 Chron. vii. 14.

[47] Ezek. xlvii. 11.

[48] Matt. iv. 23.

[49] Luke, vi. 19.

[50] John, vii. 23.

[51] 2 Kings, xx. 5.

[52] Num. xii. 14.

V. Solus Adest

V. SOLUS ADEST.

_The physician comes_

V. Meditation

V. MEDITATION.

As sickness is the greatest misery, so the greatest misery of sickness is solitude; when the infectiousness of the disease deters them who should assist from coming; even the physician dares scarce come. Solitude is a torment which is not threatened in hell itself. Mere vacuity, the first agent, God, the first instrument of God, nature, will not admit; nothing can be utterly empty, but so near a degree towards vacuity as solitude, to be but one, they love not. When I am dead, and my body might infect, they have a remedy, they may bury me; but when I am but sick, and might infect, they have no remedy but their absence, and my solitude. It is an excuse to them that are great, and pretend, and yet are loath to come; it is an inhibition to those who would truly come, because they may be made instruments, and pestiducts, to the infection of others, by their coming. And it is an outlawry, an excommunication upon the patient, and separates him from all offices, not only of civility but of working charity. A long sickness will weary friends at last, but a pestilential sickness averts them from the beginning. God himself would admit a figure of society, as there is a plurality of persons in God, though there be but one God; and all his external actions testify a love of society, and communion. In heaven there are orders of angels, and armies of martyrs, and in that house many mansions; in earth, families, cities, churches, colleges, all plural things; and lest either of these should not be company enough alone, there is an association of both, a communion of saints which makes the militant and triumphant church one parish; so that Christ was not out of his diocess when he was upon the earth, nor out of his temple when he was in our flesh. God, who saw that all that he made was good, came not so near seeing a defect in any of his works, as when he saw that it was not good for man to be alone, therefore he made him a helper; and one that should help him so as to increase the number, and give him her own, and more society. Angels, who do not propagate nor multiply, were made at first in an abundant number, and so were stars; but for the things of this world, their blessing was, Increase; for I think, I need not ask leave to think, that there is no phoenix; nothing singular, nothing alone. Men that inhere upon nature only, are so far from thinking that there is any thing singular in this world, as that they will scarce think that this world itself is singular, but that every planet, and every star, is another world like this; they find reason to conceive not only a plurality in every species in the world, but a plurality of worlds; so that the abhorrers of solitude are not solitary, for God, and Nature, and Reason concur against it. Now a man may counterfeit the plague in a vow, and mistake a disease for religion, by such a retiring and recluding of himself from all men as to do good to no man, to converse with no man. God hath two testaments, two wills; but this is a schedule, and not of his, a codicil, and not of his, not in the body of his testaments, but interlined and postscribed by others, that the way to the communion of saints should be by such a solitude as excludes all doing of good here. That is a disease of the mind, as the height of an infectious disease of the body is solitude, to be left alone: for this makes an infectious bed equal, nay, worse than a grave, that though in both I be equally alone, in my bed I know it, and feel it, and shall not in my grave: and this too, that in my bed my soul is still in an infectious body, and shall not in my grave be so.

V. Expostulation

V. EXPOSTULATION.

O God, my God, thy Son took it not ill at Martha's hands, that when he said unto her, _Thy brother Lazarus shall rise again_,[53] she expostulated it so far with him as to reply, _I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection, at the last day_; for she was miserable by wanting him then. Take it not ill, O my God, from me, that though thou have ordained it for a blessing, and for a dignity to thy people, _that they should dwell alone, and not be reckoned among the nations_[54] (because they should be above them), and that _they should dwell in safety alone_[55] (free from the infestation of enemies), yet I take thy leave to remember thee, that thou hast said too, _Two are better than one_; and, _Woe be unto him that is alone when he falleth_;[56] and so when he is fallen, and laid in the bed of sickness too. _Righteousness is immortal_;[57] I know thy wisdom hath said so; but no man, though covered with the righteousness of thy Son, is immortal so as not to die; for he who was righteousness itself did die. I know that the Son of Righteousness, thy Son, refused not, nay affected, solitariness, loneness,[58] many, many times; but at all times he was able to command _more than twelve legions of angels_[59] to his service; and when he did not so, he was far from being alone: for, _I am not alone_, says he, _but I, and the Father that sent me_.[60] I cannot fear but that I shall always be with thee and him; but whether this disease may not alien and remove my friends, so that _they stand aloof from my sore, and my kinsmen stand afar off_,[61] I cannot tell. I cannot fear but that thou wilt reckon with me from this minute, in which, by thy grace, I see thee; whether this understanding, and this will, and this memory may not decay, to the discouragement and the ill interpretation of them that see that heavy change in me, I cannot tell. It was for thy blessed, thy powerful Son alone, _to tread the wine-press alone, and none of the people with him_.[62] I am not able to pass this agony alone, not alone without thee; thou art thy spirit, not alone without thine; spiritual and temporal physicians are thine, not alone without mine; those whom the bands of blood or friendship have made mine, are mine; and if thou, or thine, or mine, abandon me, I am alone, and woe unto me if I be alone. Elias himself fainted under that apprehension, _Lo, I am left alone_;[63] and Martha murmured at that, said to Christ, _Lord, dost not thou care that my sister hath left me to serve alone?_[64] Neither could Jeremiah enter into his lamentations from a higher ground than to say, _How doth the city sit solitary that was full of people_.[65] O my God, it is the leper that thou hast condemned to live alone;[66] have I such a leprosy in my soul that I must die alone; alone without thee? Shall this come to such a leprosy in my body that I must die alone; alone without them that should assist, that should comfort me? But comes not this expostulation too near a murmuring? Must I be concluded with that, that Moses _was commanded to come near the Lord alone_;[67] that solitariness, and dereliction, and abandoning of others, disposes us best for God, who accompanies us most alone? May I not remember, and apply too, that though God came not to Jacob till he found him alone, yet when he found him alone, he wrestled with him, and lamed him;[68] that when, in the dereliction and forsaking of friends and physicians, a man is left alone to God, God may so wrestle with this Jacob, with this conscience, as to put it out of joint, and so appear to him as that he dares not look upon him face to face, when as by way of reflection, in the consolation of his temporal or spiritual servants, and ordinances he durst, if they were there? But a _faithful friend is the physic of life, and they that fear the Lord shall find him_.[69] Therefore hath the Lord afforded me both in one person, that physician who is my faithful friend.

V. Prayer

V. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who calledst down fire from heaven upon the sinful cities but once, and openedst the earth to swallow the murmurers but once, and threwest down the tower of Siloam upon sinners but once; but for thy works of mercy repeatedst them often, and still workest by thine own patterns, as thou broughtest man into this world, by giving him a helper fit for him here; so, whether it be thy will to continue me long thus, or to dismiss me by death, be pleased to afford me the helps fit for both conditions, either for my weak stay here, or my final transmigration from hence. And if thou mayst receive glory by that way (and by all ways thou mayst receive glory), glorify thyself in preserving this body from such infections as might withhold those who would come, or endanger them who do come; and preserve this soul in the faculties thereof from all such distempers as might shake the assurance which myself and others have had, that because thou hast loved me thou wouldst love me to my end, and at my end. Open none of my doors, not of my heart, not of mine ears, not of my house, to any supplanter that would enter to undermine me in my religion to thee, in the time of my weakness, or to defame me, and magnify himself with false rumours of such a victory and surprisal of me, after I am dead. Be my salvation, and plead my salvation; work it and declare it; and as thy triumphant shall be, so let the militant church be assured that thou wast my God, and I thy servant, to and in my consummation. Bless thou the learning and the labours of this man whom thou sendest to assist me; and since thou takest me by the hand, and puttest me into his hands (for I come to him in thy name, who in thy name comes to me), since I clog not my hopes in him, no, nor my prayers to thee, with any limited conditions, but inwrap all in those two petitions, _Thy kingdom come, thy will be done_, prosper him, and relieve me, in thy way, in thy time, and in thy measure. Amen.

FOOTNOTES:

[53] John, xi. 23.

[54] Num. xxiii. 9.

[55] Deut. xxxiii. 28.

[56] Eccles. iv. 10.

[57] Wisd. i. 15.

[58] Matt. xiv. 23.

[59] Matt. xxvi. 13.

[60] John, viii. 16.

[61] Psalm xxxviii. 11.

[62] Isaiah, lxiii. 3.

[63] 1 Kings, xiv. 14.

[64] Luke, x. 40.

[65] Lam. i. 1.

[66] Lev. xiii. 46.

[67] Exod. xiv. 2.

[68] Gen. xxxii. 24. 25.

[69] Ecclus. vi. 16.

Vi. Metuit

VI. METUIT.

_The physician is afraid._

Vi. Meditation

VI. MEDITATION.

I observe the physician with the same diligence as he the disease; I see he fears, and I fear with him; I overtake him, I overrun him, in his fear, and I go the faster, because he makes his pace slow; I fear the more, because he disguises his fear, and I see it with the more sharpness, because he would not have me see it. He knows that his fear shall not disorder the practice and exercise of his art, but he knows that my fear may disorder the effect and working of his practice. As the ill affections of the spleen complicate and mingle themselves with every infirmity of the body, so doth fear insinuate itself in every action or passion of the mind; and as wind in the body will counterfeit any disease, and seem the stone, and seem the gout, so fear will counterfeit any disease of the mind. It shall seem love, a love of having; and it is but a fear, a jealous and suspicious fear of losing. It shall seem valour in despising and undervaluing danger; and it is but fear in an overvaluing of opinion and estimation, and a fear of losing that. A man that is not afraid of a lion is afraid of a cat; not afraid of starving, and yet is afraid of some joint of meat at the table presented to feed him; not afraid of the sound of drums and trumpets and shot and those which they seek to drown, the last cries of men, and is afraid of some particular harmonious instrument; so much afraid as that with any of these the enemy might drive this man, otherwise valiant enough, out of the field. I know not what fear is, nor I know not what it is that I fear now; I fear not the hastening of my death, and yet I do fear the increase of the disease; I should belie nature if I should deny that I feared this; and if I should say that I feared death, I should belie God. My weakness is from nature, who hath but her measure; my strength is from God, who possesses and distributes infinitely. As then every cold air is not a damp, every shivering is not a stupefaction; so every fear is not a fearfulness, every declination is not a running away, every debating is not a resolving, every wish that it were not thus, is not a murmuring nor a dejection, though it be thus; but as my physician's fear puts not him from his practice, neither doth mine put me from receiving from God, and man, and myself, spiritual and civil and moral assistances and consolations.

Vi. Expostulation

VI. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, I find in thy book that fear is a stifling spirit, a spirit of suffocation; that _Ishbosheth could not speak, nor reply in his own defence to Abner, because he was afraid_.[70] It was thy servant Job's case too, who, before he could say anything to thee, says of thee, _Let him take his rod away from me, and let not his fear terrify me, then would I speak with him, and not fear him; but it is not so with me_.[71] Shall a fear of thee take away my devotion to thee? Dost thou command me to speak to thee, and command me to fear thee; and do these destroy one another? There is no perplexity in thee, my God; no inextricableness in thee, my light and my clearness, my sun and my moon, that directest me as well in the night of adversity and fear, as in my day of prosperity and confidence. I must then speak to thee at all times, but when must I fear thee? At all times too. When didst thou rebuke any petitioner with the name of importunate? Thou hast proposed to us a parable of a judge[72] that did justice at last, because the client was importunate, and troubled him; but thou hast told us plainly, that thy use in that parable was not that thou wast troubled with our importunities, but (as thou sayest there) _that we should always pray_. And to the same purpose thou proposest another,[73] that if I press my friend, when he is in bed at midnight, to lend me bread, though he will not rise because I am his friend, yet because of mine importunity he will. God will do this whensoever thou askest, and never call it importunity. Pray in thy bed at midnight, and God will not say, I will hear thee to-morrow upon thy knees, at thy bedside; pray upon thy knees there then, and God will not say, I will hear thee on Sunday at church; God is no dilatory God, no froward God; prayer is never unseasonable, God is never asleep, nor absent. But, O my God, can I do this, and fear thee; come to thee and speak to thee, in all places, at all hours, and fear thee? Dare I ask this question? There is more boldness in the question than in the coming; I may do it though I fear thee; I cannot do it except I fear thee. So well hast thou provided that we should always fear thee, as that thou hast provided that we should fear no person but thee, nothing but thee; no men? No. Whom? _The Lord is my help and my salvation, whom shall I fear?_[74] Great enemies? Not great enemies, for no enemies are great to them that fear thee. _Fear not the people of this land, for they are bread to you_;[75] they shall not only not eat us, not eat our bread, but they shall be our bread. Why should we fear them? But for all this metaphorical bread, victory over enemies that thought to devour us, may we not fear, that we may lack bread literally? And fear famine, though we fear not enemies? _Young lions do lack and suffer hunger, but they that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing._[76] Never? Though it be well with them at one time, may they not fear that it may be worse? _Wherefore should I fear in the days of evil?_[77] says thy servant David. Though his own sin had made them evil, he feared them not. No? not if this evil determine in death? Not though in a death; not though in a death inflicted by violence, by malice, by our own desert; _fear not the sentence of death_,[78] if thou fear God. Thou art, O my God, so far from admitting us that fear thee to fear others, as that thou makest others to fear us; as _Herod feared John, because he was a holy and a just man, and observed him_.[79] How fully then, O my abundant God, how gently, O my sweet, my easy God, dost thou unentangle me in any scruple arising out of the consideration of thy fear! Is not this that which thou intendest when thou sayest, _The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him_;[80] the secret, the mystery of the right use of fear. Dost thou not mean this when thou sayest, _we shall understand the fear of the Lord_?[81] Have it, and have benefit by it; have it, and stand under it; be directed by it, and not be dejected with it. And dost thou not propose that church for our example when thou sayest, the church of Judea _walked in the fear of God_;[82] they had it, but did not sit down lazily, nor fall down weakly, nor sink under it. There is a fear which weakens men in the service of God. _Adam was afraid, because he was naked._[83] They who have put off thee are a prey to all. They may fear, for _Thou wilt laugh when their fear comes upon them_, as thou hast told them more than once.[84] And thou wilt make them fear where no cause of fear is, as thou hast told them more than once too.[85] There is a fear that is a punishment of former wickednesses, and induces more. Though some said of thy Son, Christ Jesus, _that he was a good man, yet no man spake openly for fear of the Jews_. Joseph was his disciple, _but secretly, for fear of the Jews_.[86] The disciples kept some meetings, but with doors shut for fear of the Jews. O my God, thou givest us fear for ballast to carry us steadily in all weathers. But thou wouldst ballast us with such sand as should have gold in it, with that fear which is thy fear; for _the fear of the Lord is his treasure_.[87] He that hath that lacks nothing that man can have, nothing that God does give. Timorous men thou rebukest: _Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?_[88] Such thou dismissest from thy service with scorn, though of them there went from Gideon's army twenty-two thousand, and remained but ten thousand.[89] Such thou sendest farther than so; thither from whence they never return: _The fearful and the unbelieving, into that burning lake which is the second death_.[90] There is a fear and there is a hope, which are equal abominations to thee; for, they were confounded because they hoped,[91] says thy servant Job; because they had misplaced, miscentred their hopes, they hoped, and not in thee, and such shall fear, and not fear thee. But in thy fear, my God, and my fear, my God, and my hope, is hope, and love, and confidence, and peace, and every limb and ingredient of happiness enwrapped; for joy includes all, and fear and joy consist together, nay, constitute one another. _The women departed from the sepulchre_,[92] the women who were made supernumerary apostles, apostles to the apostles; mothers of the church, and of the fathers, grandfathers of the church, the apostles themselves; the women, angels of the resurrection, went from the sepulchre with fear and joy; they ran, says the text, and they ran upon those two legs, fear and joy; and both was the right leg; they joy in thee, O Lord, that fear thee, and fear thee only, who feel this joy in thee. Nay, thy fear, and thy love are inseparable; still we are called upon, in infinite places, to fear God, yet the commandment, which is the root of all is, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God; he doeth neither that doeth not both; he omits neither, that does one. Therefore when thy servant David had said that _the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom_,[93] and his son had repeated it again,[94] he that collects both calls this fear the root of wisdom; and, that it may embrace all, he calls it wisdom itself.[95] A wise man, therefore, is never without it, never without the exercise of it; therefore thou sentest Moses to thy people, _that they might learn to fear thee all the days of their lives_,[96] not in heavy and calamitous, but in good and cheerful days too; for Noah, who had assurance of his deliverance, yet, _moved with fear, prepared an ark, for the saving of his house_.[97] _A wise man will fear in everything._[98] And therefore, though I pretend to no other degree of wisdom, I am abundantly rich in this, that I lie here possessed with that fear which is thy fear, both that this sickness is thy immediate correction, and not merely a natural accident, and therefore fearful, because it is a fearful thing to fall into thy hands; and that this fear preserves me from all inordinate fear, arising out of the infirmity of nature, because thy hand being upon me, thou wilt never let me fall out of thy hand.

Vi. Prayer

VI. PRAYER.

O most mighty God, and merciful God, the God of all true sorrow, and true joy too, of all fear, and of all hope too, as thou hast given me a repentance, not to be repented of, so give me, O Lord, a fear, of which I may not be afraid. Give me tender and supple and conformable affections, that as I joy with them that joy, and mourn with them that mourn, so I may fear with them that fear. And since thou hast vouchsafed to discover to me, in his fear whom thou hast admitted to be my assistance in this sickness, that there is danger therein, let me not, O Lord, go about to overcome the sense of that fear, so far as to pretermit the fitting and preparing of myself for the worst that may be feared, the passage out of this life. Many of thy blessed martyrs have passed out of this life without any show of fear; but thy most blessed Son himself did not so. Thy martyrs were known to be but men, and therefore it pleased thee to fill them with thy Spirit and thy power, in that they did more than men; thy Son was declared by thee, and by himself, to be God; and it was requisite that he should declare himself to be man also, in the weaknesses of man. Let me not therefore, O my God, be ashamed of these fears, but let me feel them to determine where his fear did, in a present submitting of all to thy will. And when thou shalt have inflamed and thawed my former coldnesses and indevotions with these heats, and quenched my former heats with these sweats and inundations, and rectified my former presumptions and negligences with these fears, be pleased, O Lord, as one made so by thee, to think me fit for thee; and whether it be thy pleasure to dispose of this body, this garment, so as to put it to a farther wearing in this world, or to lay it up in the common wardrobe, the grave, for the next, glorify thyself in thy choice now, and glorify it then, with that glory, which thy Son, our Saviour Christ Jesus, hath purchased for them whom thou makest partakers of his resurrection. Amen.

FOOTNOTES:

[70] 2 Sam. iii. 11.

[71] Job, ix. 34.

[72] Luke, xviii. 1.

[73] Luke, xi. 5.

[74] Psalm xxvii. 1.

[75] Num. xiv. 9.

[76] Psalm xxxv. 70.

[77] Psalm xlix. 5.

[78] Ecclus. xli. 3.

[79] Mark, vi. 20.

[80] Psalm xxv. 14.

[81] Prov. ii. 5.

[82] Acts, ix. 31.

[83] Gen. iii. 10.

[84] Prov. i. 26; x. 24.

[85] Psalm xiv. 5; liii. 5.

[86] John, vii. 13; xix. 38; xxix. 19

[87] Isaiah, xxxiii. 6.

[88] Matt. viii. 26.

[89] Judges, vii. 3.

[90] Rev. xxi. 8.

[91] Job, vi. 20.

[92] Matt. xxviii. 8.

[93] Psalm cxi. 10.

[94] Prov. i. 7.

[95] Ecclus. i. 20, 27.

[96] Deut. iv. 10.

[97] Heb. xi. 7.

[98] Ecclus. xviii. 27.

Vii. Socios Sibi Jungier Instat

VII. SOCIOS SIBI JUNGIER INSTAT.

_The physician desires to have others joined with him._

Vii. Meditation

VII. MEDITATION.

There is more fear, therefore more cause. If the physician desire help, the burden grows great: there is a growth of the disease then; but there must be an autumn too; but whether an autumn of the disease or me, it is not my part to choose; but if it be of me, it is of both; my disease cannot survive me, I may overlive it. Howsoever, his desiring of others argues his candour, and his ingenuity; if the danger be great, he justifies his proceedings, and he disguises nothing that calls in witnesses; and if the danger be not great, he is not ambitious, that is so ready to divide the thanks and the honour of that work which he begun alone, with others. It diminishes not the dignity of a monarch that he derive part of his care upon others; God hath not made many suns, but he hath made many bodies that receive and give light. The Romans began with one king; they came to two consuls; they returned in extremities to one dictator: whether in one or many, the sovereignty is the same in all states and the danger is not the more, and the providence is the more, where there are more physicians; as the state is the happier where businesses are carried by more counsels than can be in one breast, how large soever. Diseases themselves hold consultations, and conspire how they may multiply, and join with one another, and exalt one another's force so; and shall we not call physicians to consultations? Death is in an old man's door, he appears and tells him so, and death is at a young man's back, and says nothing; age is a sickness, and youth is an ambush; and we need so many physicians as may make up a watch, and spy every inconvenience. There is scarce any thing that hath not killed somebody; a hair, a feather hath done it; nay, that which is our best antidote against it hath done it; the best cordial hath been deadly poison. Men have died of joy, and almost forbidden their friends to weep for them, when they have seen them die laughing. Even that tyrant, Dionysius (I think the same that suffered so much after), who could not die of that sorrow, of that high fall, from a king to a wretched private man, died of so poor a joy as to be declared by the people at a theatre that he was a good poet. We say often that a man may live of a little; but, alas, of how much less may a man die? And therefore the more assistants the better. Who comes to a day of hearing, in a cause of any importance, with one advocate? In our funerals we ourselves have no interest; there we cannot advise, we cannot direct; and though some nations (the Egyptians in particular) built themselves better tombs than houses because they were to dwell longer in them, yet amongst ourselves, the greatest man of style whom we have had, the Conqueror, was left, as soon as his soul left him, not only without persons to assist at his grave but without a grave. Who will keep us then we know not; as long as we can, let us admit as much help as we can; another and another physician is not another and another indication and symptom of death, but another and another assistant, and proctor of life: nor do they so much feed the imagination with apprehension of danger, as the understanding with comfort. Let not one bring learning, another diligence, another religion, but every one bring all; and as many ingredients enter into a receipt, so may many men make the receipt. But why do I exercise my meditation so long upon this, of having plentiful help in time of need? Is not my meditation rather to be inclined another way, to condole and commiserate their distress who have none? How many are sicker (perchance) than I, and laid in their woful straw at home (if that corner be a home), and have no more hope of help, though they die, than of preferment, though they live! Nor do more expect to see a physician then, than to be an officer after; of whom, the first that takes knowledge, is the sexton that buries them, who buries them in oblivion too! For they do but fill up the number of the dead in the bill, but we shall never hear their names, till we read them in the book of life with our own. How many are sicker (perchance) than I, and thrown into hospitals, where (as a fish left upon the sand must stay the tide) they must stay the physician's hour of visiting, and then can be but visited! How many are sicker (perchance) than all we, and have not this hospital to cover them, not this straw to lie in, to die in, but have their gravestone under them, and breathe out their souls in the ears and in the eyes of passengers, harder than their bed, the flint of the street? that taste of no part of our physic, but a sparing diet, to whom ordinary porridge would be julep enough, the refuse of our servants bezoar enough, and the offscouring of our kitchen tables cordial enough. O my soul, when thou art not enough awake to bless thy God enough for his plentiful mercy in affording thee many helpers, remember how many lack them, and help them to them or to those other things which they lack as much as them.

Vii. Expostulation

VII. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, thy blessed servant Augustine begged of thee that Moses might come and tell him what he meant by some places of Genesis: may I have leave to ask of that Spirit that writ that book, why, when David expected news from Joab's army,[99] and that the watchman told him that he saw a man running alone, David concluded out of that circumstance, that if he came alone, he brought good news?[100] I see the grammar, the word signifies so, and is so ever accepted, _good news_; but I see not the logic nor the rhetoric, how David would prove or persuade that his news was good because he was alone, except a greater company might have made great impressions of danger, by imploring and importuning present supplies. Howsoever that be, I am sure that that which thy apostle says to Timothy, _Only Luke is with me_,[101] Luke, and nobody but Luke, hath a taste of complaint and sorrow in it: though Luke want no testimony of ability, of forwardness, of constancy, and perseverance, in assisting that great building which St. Paul laboured in, yet St. Paul is affected with that, that there was none but Luke to assist. We take St. Luke to have been a physician, and it admits the application the better that in the presence of one good physician we may be glad of more. It was not only a civil spirit of policy, or order, that moved Moses's father-in-law to persuade him to divide the burden of government and judicature with others, and take others to his assistance,[102] but it was also thy immediate Spirit, O my God, that moved Moses to present unto thee seventy of the elders of Israel,[103] to receive of that Spirit, which was upon Moses only before, such a portion as might ease him in the government of that people; though Moses alone had endowments above all, thou gavest him other assistants. I consider thy plentiful goodness, O my God, in employing angels more than one in so many of thy remarkable works. Of thy Son, thou sayest, _Let all the angels of God worship him_;[104] if that be in heaven, upon earth he says, _that he could command twelve legions of angels_;[105] and when heaven and earth shall be all one, at the last day, thy Son, O God, _the Son of man, shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him_.[106] The angels that celebrated his birth to the shepherds,[107] the angels that celebrated his second birth, his resurrection, to the Maries,[108] were in the plural, angels associated with angels. In Jacob's ladder,[109] they who ascended and descended, and maintained the trade between heaven and earth, between thee and us, they who have the commission, and charge to guide us in all our ways,[110] they who hastened Lot,[111] and in him, us, from places of danger and temptation, they who are appointed to instruct and govern us in the church here,[112] they who are sent to punish the disobedient and refractory,[113] that they are to be mowers and harvestmen[114] after we are grown up in one field, the church, at the day of judgment, they that are to carry our souls whither they carried Lazarus,[115] they who attended at the several gates of the new Jerusalem,[116] to admit us there; all these who administer to thy servants, from the first to their last, are angels, angels in the plural, in every service angels associated with angels. The power of a single angel we see in that one, who in one night destroyed almost two hundred thousand in Sennacherib's army,[117] yet thou often employest many; as we know the power of salvation is abundantly in any one evangelist, and yet thou hast afforded us four. Thy Son proclaims of himself that _the Spirit hath anointed him to preach the Gospel_,[118] yet he hath given others _for the perfecting of the saints in the work of the ministry_.[119] Thou hast made him _Bishop of our souls_,[120] but there are others bishops too. He gave the Holy Ghost,[121] and others gave it also. Thy way, O my God (and, O my God, thou lovest to walk in thine own ways, for they are large), thy way from the beginning, is multiplication of thy helps; and therefore it were a degree of ingratitude not to accept this mercy of affording me many helps for my bodily health, as a type and earnest of thy gracious purpose now and ever to afford me the same assistances. That for thy great help, thy word, I may seek that not from comers nor conventicles nor schismatical singularities, but from the association and communion of thy Catholic church, and those persons whom thou hast always furnished that church withal: and that I may associate thy word with thy sacrament, thy seal with thy patent; and in that sacrament associate the sign with the thing signified, the bread with the body of thy Son, so as I may be sure to have received both, and to be made thereby (as thy blessed servant Augustine says) the ark, and the monument, and the tomb of thy most blessed Son, that he, and all the merits of his death, may, by that receiving, be buried in me, to my quickening in this world, and my immortal establishing in the next.

Vii. Prayer

VII. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who gavest to thy servants in the wilderness thy manna, bread so conditioned, qualified so, as that to every man manna tasted like that which that man liked best, I humbly beseech thee to make this correction, which I acknowledge to be part of my daily bread, to taste so to me, not as I would but as thou wouldst have it taste, and to conform my taste, and make it agreeable to thy will. Thou wouldst have thy corrections taste of humiliation, but thou wouldst have them taste of consolation too; taste of danger, but taste of assurance too. As therefore thou hast imprinted in all thine elements of which our bodies consist two manifest qualities, so that as thy fire dries, so it heats too; and as thy water moists, so it cools too; so, O Lord, in these corrections which are the elements of our regeneration, by which our souls are made thine, imprint thy two qualities, those two operations, that, as they scourge us, they may scourge us into the way to thee; that when they have showed us that we are nothing in ourselves, they may also show us, that thou art all things unto us. When therefore in this particular circumstance, O Lord (but none of thy judgments are circumstances, they are all of all substance of thy good purpose upon us), when in this particular, that he whom thou hast sent to assist me, desires assistants to him, thou hast let me see in how few hours thou canst throw me beyond the help of man, let me by the same light see that no vehemence of sickness, no temptation of Satan, no guiltiness of sin, no prison of death, not this first, this sick bed, not the other prison, the close and dark grave, can remove me from the determined and good purpose which thou hast sealed concerning me. Let me think no degree of this thy correction casual, or without signification; but yet when I have read it in that language, as a correction, let me translate it into another, and read it as a mercy; and which of these is the original, and which is the translation; whether thy mercy or thy correction were thy primary and original intention in this sickness, I cannot conclude, though death conclude me; for as it must necessarily appear to be a correction, so I can have no greater argument of thy mercy, than to die in thee and by that death to be united to him who died for me.

FOOTNOTES:

[99] 2 Sam. xviii. 25.

[100] So all but our translation takes it; even Buxdor and Schindler.

[101] 2 Tim. iv. 11.

[102] Exod. xviii. 13.

[103] Num. xi. 16.

[104] Heb. i. 6.

[105] Matt. xxvi. 53.

[106] Matt. xxv. 31.

[107] Luke, ii. 13, 14.

[108] John, xx. 12.

[109] Gen. xxviii. 12.

[110] Psalm xci. 11.

[111] Gen. xix. 15.

[112] Rev. i. 20.

[113] Rev. viii. 2.

[114] Matt. xiii. 39.

[115] Luke, xvi. 22.

[116] Rev. xxi. 12.

[117] 2 Kings, xix. 35.

[118] Luke, iv. 18.

[119] Eph. iv. 12.

[120] 1 Pet. ii. 25.

[121] John, xx. 22.

Viii. Et Rex Ipse Suum Mittit

VIII. ET REX IPSE SUUM MITTIT.

_The King sends his own physician._

Viii. Meditation

VIII. MEDITATION.

Still when we return to that meditation that man is a world, we find new discoveries. Let him be a world, and himself will be the land, and misery the sea. His misery (for misery is his, his own; of the happiness even of this world, he is but tenant, but of misery the freeholder; of happiness he is but the farmer, but the usufructuary, but of misery the lord, the proprietary), his misery, as the sea, swells above all the hills, and reaches to the remotest parts of this earth, man; who of himself is but dust, and coagulated and kneaded into earth by tears; his matter is earth, his form misery. In this world that is mankind, the highest ground, the eminentest hills, are kings; and have they line and lead enough to fathom this sea, and say, My misery is but this deep? Scarce any misery equal to sickness, and they are subject to that equally with their lowest subject. A glass is not the less brittle, because a king's face is represented in it; nor a king the less brittle, because God is represented in him. They have physicians continually about them, and therefore sickness, or the worst of sicknesses, continual fear of it. Are they gods? He that called them so cannot flatter. They are gods, but sick gods; and God is presented to us under many human affections, as far as infirmities: God is called angry, and sorry, and weary, and heavy, but never a sick God; for then he might die like men, as our gods do. The worst that they could say in reproach and scorn of the gods of the heathen was, that perchance they were asleep; but gods that are so sick as that they cannot sleep are in an infirmer condition. A god, and need a physician? A Jupiter, and need an Æsculapius? that must have rhubarb to purge his choler lest he be too angry, and agarick to purge his phlegm lest he be too drowsy; that as Tertullian says of the Egyptian gods, plants and herbs, that "God was beholden to man for growing in his garden," so we must say of these gods, their eternity (an eternity of threescore and ten years) is in the apothecary's shop, and not in the metaphorical deity. But their deity is better expressed in their humility than in their height; when abounding and overflowing, as God, in means of doing good, they descend, as God, to a communication of their abundances with men according to their necessities, then they are gods. No man is well that understands not, that values not his being well; that hath not a cheerfulness and a joy in it; and whosoever hath this joy hath a desire to communicate, to propagate that which occasions his happiness and his joy to others; for every man loves witnesses of his happiness, and the best witnesses are experimental witnesses; they who have tasted of that in themselves which makes us happy. It consummates therefore, it perfects the happiness of kings, to confer, to transfer, honour and riches, and (as they can) health, upon those that need them.

Viii. Expostulation

VIII. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, I have a warning from the wise man, that _when a rich man speaketh every man holdeth his tongue, and, look, what he saith, they extol it to the clouds; but if a poor man speak, they say, What fellow is this? And if he stumble, they will help to overthrow him._[122] Therefore may my words be undervalued and my errors aggravated, if I offer to speak of kings; but not by thee, O my God, because I speak of them as they are in thee, and of thee as thou art in them. Certainly those men prepare a way of speaking negligently or irreverently of thee, that give themselves that liberty in speaking of thy vicegerents, kings; for thou who gavest Augustus the empire, gavest it to Nero too; and as Vespasian had it from thee, so had Julian. Though kings deface in themselves thy first image in their own soul, thou givest no man leave to deface thy second image, imprinted indelibly in their power. But thou knowest, O God, that if I should be slack in celebrating thy mercies to me exhibited by that royal instrument, my sovereign, to many other faults that touch upon allegiance I should add the worst of all, ingratitude, which constitutes an ill man; and faults which are defects in any particular function are not so great as those that destroy our humanity. It is not so ill to be an ill subject as to be an ill man; for he hath an universal illness, ready to flow and pour out itself into any mould, any form, and to spend itself in any function. As therefore thy Son did upon the coin, I look upon the king, and I ask whose image and whose inscription he hath, and he hath thine; and I give unto thee that which is thine; I recommend his happiness to thee in all my sacrifices of thanks, for that which he enjoys, and in all my prayers for the continuance and enlargement of them. But let me stop, my God, and consider; will not this look like a piece of art and cunning, to convey into the world an opinion that I were more particular in his care than other men? and that herein, in a show of humility and thankfulness, I magnify myself more than there is cause? But let not that jealousy stop me, O God, but let me go forward in celebrating thy mercy exhibited by him. This which he doth now, in assisting so my bodily health, I know is common to me with many: many, many have tasted of that expression of his graciousness. Where he can give health by his own hands he doth, and to more than any of his predecessors have done: therefore hath God reserved one disease for him, that he only might cure it, though perchance not only by one title and interest, nor only as one king. To those that need it not, in that kind, and so cannot have it by his own hand, he sends a donative of health in sending his physician. The holy king St. Louis, in France, and our Maud, is celebrated for that, that personally they visited hospitals, and assisted in the cure even of loathsome diseases. And when that religious Empress Placilla, the wife of Theodosius, was told that she diminished herself too much in those personal assistances and might do enough in sending relief, she said she would send in that capacity as a Christian, as a fellow-member of the body of thy Son, with them. So thy servant David applies himself to his people, so he incorporates himself in his people, by calling them his brethren, his bones, his flesh;[123] and when they fell under thy hand, even to the pretermitting of himself, he presses upon thee by prayer for them; _I have sinned, but these sheep, what have they done? Let thine hand, I pray thee, be against me and against my father's house_.[124] It is kingly to give; when Araunah gave that great and free present to David, that place, those instruments for sacrifice, and the sacrifices themselves, it is said there by thy Spirit, _All these things did Araunah give, as a king, to the king_.[125] To give is an approaching to the condition of kings, but to give health, an approaching to the King of kings, to thee. But this his assisting to my bodily health, thou knowest, O God, and so do some others of thine honourable servants know, is but the twilight of that day wherein thou, through him, hast shined upon me before; but the echo of that voice, whereby thou, through him, hast spoke to me before, then when he, first of any man, conceived a hope that I might be of some use in thy church and descended to an intimation, to a persuasion, almost to a solicitation, that I would embrace that calling. And thou who hadst put that desire into his heart, didst also put into mine an obedience to it; and I, who was sick before of a vertiginous giddiness and irresolution, and almost spent all my time in consulting how I should spend it, was by this man of God, and God of men, put into the pool and recovered: when I asked, perchance, a stone, he gave me bread; when I asked, perchance, a scorpion, he gave me a fish; when I asked a temporal office, he denied not, refused not that; but let me see that he had rather I took this. These things thou, O God, who forgettest nothing, hast not forgot, though perchance he, because they were benefits, hath; but I am not only a witness, but an instance, that our Jehoshaphat hath a care to ordain priests, as well as judges:[126] and not only to send physicians for temporal but to be the physician for spiritual health.

Viii. Prayer

VIII. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who, though thou have reserved thy treasure of perfect joy and perfect glory to be given by thine own hands then, when, by seeing thee as thou art in thyself, and knowing thee as we are known, we shall possess in an instant, and possess for ever, all that can any way conduce to our happiness, yet here also, in this world, givest us such earnests of that full payment, as by the value of the earnest we may give some estimate of the treasure, humbly and thankfully I acknowledge, that thy blessed Spirit instructs me to make a difference of thy blessings in this world, by that difference of the instruments by which it hath pleased thee to derive them unto me. As we see thee here in a glass, so we receive from thee here by reflection and by instruments. Even casual things come from thee; and that which we call fortune here hath another name above. Nature reaches out her hand and gives us corn, and wine, and oil, and milk; but thou fillest her hand before, and thou openest her hand that she may rain down her showers upon us. Industry reaches out her hand to us and gives us fruits of our labour for ourselves and our posterity; but thy hand guides that hand when it sows and when it waters, and the increase is from thee. Friends reach out their hands and prefer us; but thy hand supports that hand that supports us. Of all these thy instruments have I received thy blessing, O God; but bless thy name most for the greatest; that, as a member of the public, and as a partaker of private favours too, by thy right hand, thy powerful hand set over us, I have had my portion not only in the hearing, but in the preaching of thy Gospel. Humbly beseeching thee, that as thou continuest thy wonted goodness upon the whole world by the wonted means and instruments, the same sun and moon, the same nature and industry, so to continue the same blessings upon this state and this church by the same hand, so long as that thy Son, when he comes in the clouds, may find him, or his son, or his son's sons ready to give an account and able to stand in that judgment, for their faithful stewardship and dispensation of thy talents so abundantly committed to them; and be to him, O God, in all distempers of his body, in all anxieties of spirit, in all holy sadnesses of soul, such a physician in thy proportion, who are the greatest in heaven, as he hath been in soul and body to me, in his proportion, who is the greatest upon earth.

FOOTNOTES:

[122] Ecclus. xiii. 23.

[123] 2 Sam. xix. 12.

[124] 2 Sam. xxiv. 17.

[125] 2 Sam. xxiv. 22, 23.

[126] 2 Chron. xix. 8.

Ix. Medicamina Scribunt

IX. MEDICAMINA SCRIBUNT.

_Upon their consultation they prescribe._

Ix. Meditation

IX. MEDITATION.

They have seen me and heard me, arraigned me in these fetters and received the evidence; I have cut up mine own anatomy, dissected myself, and they are gone to read upon me. O how manifold and perplexed a thing, nay, how wanton and various a thing, is ruin and destruction! God presented to David three kinds, war, famine and pestilence; Satan left out these, and brought in fires from heaven and winds from the wilderness. If there were no ruin but sickness, we see the masters of that art can scarce number, not name all sicknesses; every thing that disorders a faculty, and the function of that, is a sickness; the names will not serve them which are given from the place affected, the pleurisy is so; nor from the effect which it works, the falling sickness is so; they cannot have names enough, from what it does, nor where it is, but they must extort names from what it is like, what it resembles, and but in some one thing, or else they would lack names; for the wolf, and the canker, and the polypus are so; and that question whether there be more names or things, is as perplexed in sicknesses as in any thing else; except it be easily resolved upon that side that there are more sicknesses than names. If ruin were reduced to that one way, that man could perish no way but by sickness, yet his danger were infinite; and if sickness were reduced to that one way, that there were no sickness but a fever, yet the way were infinite still; for it would overload and oppress any natural, disorder and discompose any artificial, memory, to deliver the names of several fevers; how intricate a work then have they who are gone to consult which of these sicknesses mine is, and then which of these fevers, and then what it would do, and then how it may be countermined. But even in ill it is a degree of good when the evil will admit consultation. In many diseases, that which is but an accident, but a symptom of the main disease, is so violent, that the physician must attend the cure of that, though he pretermit (so far as to intermit) the cure of the disease itself. Is it not so in states too? Sometimes the insolency of those that are great puts the people into commotions; the great disease, and the greatest danger to the head, is the insolency of the great ones; and yet they execute martial law, they come to present executions upon the people, whose commotion was indeed but a symptom, but an accident of the main disease; but this symptom, grown so violent, would allow no time for a consultation. Is it not so in the accidents of the diseases of our mind too? Is it not evidently so in our affections, in our passions? If a choleric man be ready to strike, must I go about to purge his choler, or to break the blow? But where there is room for consultation things are not desperate. They consult, so there is nothing rashly, inconsiderately done; and then they prescribe, they write, so there is nothing covertly, disguisedly, unavowedly done. In bodily diseases it is not always so; sometimes, as soon as the physician's foot is in the chamber, his knife is in the patient's arm; the disease would not allow a minute's forbearing of blood, nor prescribing of other remedies. In states and matter of government it is so too; they are sometimes surprised with such accidents, as that the magistrate asks not what may be done by law, but does that which must necessarily be done in that case. But it is a degree of good in evil, a degree that carries hope and comfort in it, when we may have recourse to that which is written, and that the proceedings may be apert, and ingenuous, and candid, and avowable, for that gives satisfaction and acquiescence. They who have received my anatomy of myself consult, and end their consultation in prescribing, and in prescribing physic; proper and convenient remedy; for if they should come in again and chide me for some disorder that had occasioned and induced, or that had hastened and exalted this sickness, or if they should begin to write now rules for my diet and exercise when I were well, this were to antedate or to postdate their consultation, not to give physic. It were rather a vexation than a relief, to tell a condemned prisoner, You might have lived if you had done this; and if you can get your pardon, you shall do well to take this or this course hereafter. I am glad they know (I have hid nothing from them), glad they consult (they hid nothing from one another), glad they write (they hide nothing from the world), glad that they write and prescribe physic, that there are remedies for the present case.

Ix. Expostulation

IX. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, allow me a just indignation, a holy detestation of the insolency of that man who, because he was of that high rank, of whom thou hast said, _They are gods_, thought himself more than equal to thee; that king of Aragon, Alphonsus, so perfect in the motions of the heavenly bodies as that he adventured to say, that if he had been of counsel with thee, in the making of the heavens, the heavens should have been disposed in a better order than they are. The king Amaziah would not endure thy prophet to reprehend him, but asked him in anger, _Art thou made of the king's counsel?_[127] When thy prophet Esaias asks that question, _Who hath directed the spirit of the Lord, or being his counsellor, hath taught him?_[128] it is after he had settled and determined that office upon thy Son, and him only, when he joins with those great titles, the mighty God and the Prince of peace, this also, the Counsellor;[129] and after he had settled upon him the spirit of might and of counsel.[130] So that then thou, O God, though thou have no counsel from man, yet dost nothing upon man without counsel. In the making of man there was a consultation; _Let us make man_.[131] In the preserving of man, _O thou great Preserver of men_,[132] thou proceedest by counsel; for all thy external works are the works of the whole Trinity, and their hand is to every action. How much more must I apprehend that all you blessed and glorious persons of the Trinity are in consultation now, what you will do with this infirm body, with this leprous soul, that attends guiltily, but yet comfortably, your determination upon it. I offer not to counsel them who meet in consultation for my body now, but I open my infirmities, I anatomize my body to them. So I do my soul to thee, O my God, in an humble confession, that there is no vein in me that is not full of the blood of thy Son, whom I have crucified and crucified again, by multiplying many, and often repeating the same, sins; that there is no artery in me that hath not the spirit of error, the spirit of lust, the spirit of giddiness in it;[133] no bone in me that is not hardened with the custom of sin and nourished and suppled with the marrow of sin; no sinews, no ligaments, that do not tie and chain sin and sin together. Yet, O blessed and glorious Trinity, O holy and whole college, and yet but one physician, if you take this confession into a consultation, my case is not desperate, my destruction is not decreed. If your consultation determine in writing, if you refer me to that which is written, you intend my recovery: for all the way, O my God (ever constant to thine own ways), thou hast proceeded openly, intelligibly, manifestly by the book. From thy first book, the book of life, never shut to thee, but never thoroughly open to us; from thy second book, the book of nature, where, though subobscurely and in shadows, thou hast expressed thine own image; from thy third book, the Scriptures, where thou hadst written all in the Old, and then lightedst us a candle to read it by, in the New, Testament; to these thou hadst added the book of just and useful laws, established by them to whom thou hast committed thy people; to those, the manuals, the pocket, the bosom books of our own consciences; to those thy particular books of all our particular sins; and to those, the books with seven seals, which only _the Lamb which was slain, was found worthy to open_;[134] which, I hope, it shall not disagree with the meaning of thy blessed Spirit to interpret the promulgation of their pardon and righteousness who are washed in the blood of that Lamb; and if thou refer me to these books, to a new reading, a new trial by these books, this fever may be but a burning in the hand and I may be saved, though not by my book, mine own conscience, nor by thy other books, yet by thy first, the book of life, thy decree for my election, and by thy last, the book of the Lamb, and the shedding of his blood upon me. If I be still under consultation, I am not condemned yet; if I be sent to these books, I shall not be condemned at all; for though there be something written in some of those books (particularly in the Scriptures) which some men turn to poison, yet upon these consultations (these confessions, these takings of our particular cases into thy consideration) thou intendest all for physic; and even from those sentences from which a too late repenter will suck desperation, he that seeks thee early shall receive thy morning dew, thy seasonable mercy, thy forward consolation.

Ix. Prayer

IX. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who art of so pure eyes as that thou canst not look upon sin, and we of so unpure constitutions as that we can present no object but sin, and therefore might justly fear that thou wouldst turn thine eyes for ever from us, as, though we cannot endure afflictions in ourselves, yet in thee we can; so, though thou canst not endure sin in us, yet in thy Son thou canst, and he hath taken upon himself, and presented to thee, all those sins which might displease thee in us. There is an eye in nature that kills as soon as it sees, the eye of a serpent; no eye in nature that nourishes us by looking upon us; but thine eye, O Lord, does so. Look therefore upon me, O Lord, in this distress and that will recall me from the borders of this bodily death; look upon me, and that will raise me again from that spiritual death in which my parents buried me when they begot me in sin, and in which I have pierced even to the jaws of hell by multiplying such heaps of actual sins upon that foundation, that root of original sin. Yet take me again into your consultation, O blessed and glorious Trinity; and though the Father know that I have defaced his image received in my creation; though the Son know I have neglected mine interest in the redemption; yet, O blessed Spirit, as thou art to my conscience so be to them, a witness that, at this minute, I accept that which I have so often, so rebelliously refused, thy blessed inspirations; be thou my witness to them that, at more pores than this slack body sweats tears, this sad soul weeps blood; and more for the displeasure of my God, than for the stripes of his displeasure. Take me, then, O blessed and glorious Trinity, into a reconsultation, and prescribe me any physic. If it be a long and painful holding of this soul in sickness, it is physic if I may discern thy hand to give it; and it is physic if it be a speedy departing of this soul, if I may discern thy hand to receive it.

FOOTNOTES:

[127] 2 Chron. xxv. 16.

[128] Isaiah, xlii. 13.

[129] Isaiah, ix. 6.

[130] Isaiah, xi. 2.

[131] Gen. i. 26.

[132] Job, vii. 20.

[133] 1 Tim. iv. 1; Hos. iv. 12; Isaiah, xix. 14.

[134] Rev. vii. 1.

X. Lente Et Serpenti Satagunt Occurrere Morbo

X. LENTE ET SERPENTI SATAGUNT OCCURRERE MORBO.

_They find the disease to steal on insensibly, and endeavour to meet with it so._

X. Meditation

X. MEDITATION.

This is nature's nest of boxes: the heavens contain the earth; the earth, cities; cities, men. And all these are concentric; the common centre to them all is decay, ruin; only that is eccentric which was never made; only that place, or garment rather, which we can imagine but not demonstrate. That light, which is the very emanation of the light of God, in which the saints shall dwell, with which the saints shall be apparelled, only that bends not to this centre, to ruin; that which was not made of nothing is not threatened with this annihilation. All other things are; even angels, even our souls; they move upon the same poles, they bend to the same centre; and if they were not made immortal by preservation, their nature could not keep them from sinking to this centre, annihilation. In all these (the frame of the heavens, the states upon earth, and men in them, comprehend all), those are the greatest mischiefs which are least discerned; the most insensible in their ways come to be the most sensible in their ends. The heavens have had their dropsy, they drowned the world; and they shall have their fever, and burn the world. Of the dropsy, the flood, the world had a foreknowledge one hundred and twenty years before it came; and so some made provision against it, and were saved; the fever shall break out in an instant and consume all; the dropsy did no harm to the heavens from whence it fell, it did not put out those lights, it did not quench those heats; but the fever, the fire, shall burn the furnace itself, annihilate those heavens that breathe it out. Though the dogstar have a pestilent breath, an infectious exhalation, yet, because we know when it will rise, we clothe ourselves, and we diet ourselves, and we shadow ourselves to a sufficient prevention; but comets and blazing stars, whose effects or significations no man can interrupt or frustrate, no man foresaw: no almanack tells us when a blazing star will break out, the matter is carried up in secret; no astrologer tells us when the effects will be accomplished, for that is a secret of a higher sphere than the other; and that which is most secret is most dangerous. It is so also here in the societies of men, in states and commonwealths. Twenty rebellious drums make not so dangerous a noise as a few whisperers and secret plotters in corners. The cannon doth not so much hurt against a wall, as a mine under the wall; nor a thousand enemies that threaten, so much as a few that take an oath to say nothing. God knew many heavy sins of the people, in the wilderness and after, but still he charges them with that one, with murmuring, murmuring in their hearts, secret disobediences, secret repugnances against his declared will; and these are the most deadly, the most pernicious. And it is so too with the diseases of the body; and that is my case. The pulse, the urine, the sweat, all have sworn to say nothing, to give no indication of any dangerous sickness. My forces are not enfeebled, I find no decay in my strength; my provisions are not cut off, I find no abhorring in mine appetite; my counsels are not corrupted nor infatuated, I find no false apprehensions to work upon mine understanding; and yet they see that invisibly, and I feel that insensibly, the disease prevails. The disease hath established a kingdom, an empire in me, and will have certain _arcana imperii_, secrets of state, by which it will proceed and not be bound to declare them. But yet against those secret conspiracies in the state, the magistrate hath the rack; and against these insensible diseases physicians have their examiners; and those these employ now.

X. Expostulation

X. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, I have been told, and told by relation, by her own brother that did it, by thy servant Nazianzen, that his sister in the vehemency of her prayer, did use to threaten thee with a holy importunity, with a pious impudency. I dare not do so, O God; but as thy servant Augustine wished that Adam had not sinned, therefore that Christ might not have died, may I not to this one purpose wish that if the serpent, before the temptation of Eve, did go upright and speak,[135] that he did so still, because I should the sooner hear him if he spoke, the sooner see him if he went upright? In his curse I am cursed too; his creeping undoes me; for howsoever he begin at the heel, and do but bruise that, yet he, and _death_ in him, _is come into our windows_;[136] into our eyes and ears, the entrances and inlets of our soul. He works upon us in secret and we do not discern him; and one great work of his upon us is to make us so like himself as to sin in secret, that others may not see us; but his masterpiece is to make us sin in secret, so as that we may not see ourselves sin. For the first, the hiding of our sins from other men, he hath induced that which was his offspring from the beginning, a lie;[137] for man is, in nature, yet in possession of some such sparks of ingenuity and nobleness, as that, but to disguise evil, he would not lie. The body, the sin, is the serpent's; and the garment that covers it, the lie, is his too. These are his, but the hiding of sin from ourselves is he himself: when we have the sting of the serpent in us, and do not sting ourselves, the venom of sin, and no remorse for sin, then, as thy blessed Son said of Judas, _He is a devil_;[138] not that he had one, but was one; so we are become devils to ourselves, and we have not only a serpent in our bosom, but we ourselves are to ourselves that serpent. How far did thy servant David press upon thy pardon in that petition, _Cleanse thou me from secret sins_?[139] Can any sin be secret? for a great part of our sins, though, says thy prophet, we conceive them in the dark, upon our bed, yet, says he, we do them in the light; there are many sins which we glory in doing, and would not do if nobody should know them. Thy blessed servant Augustine confesses that he was ashamed of his shamefacedness and tenderness of conscience, and that he often belied himself with sins which he never did, lest he should be unacceptable to his sinful companions. But if we would conceal them (thy prophet found such a desire, and such a practice in some, when he said, _Thou hast trusted in thy wickedness, and thou hast said, None shall see me_[140]), yet can we conceal them? Thou, O God, canst hear of them by others: the voice of Abel's blood will tell thee of Cain's murder;[141] the heavens themselves will tell thee. Heaven shall reveal his iniquity; a small creature alone shall do it, _A bird of the air shall carry the voice, and tell the matter_;[142] thou wilt trouble no informer, thou thyself revealedst Adam's sin to thyself;[143] and the manifestation of sin is so full to thee, as that thou shalt reveal all to all; _Thou shalt bring every work to judgment, with every secret thing;[144] and there is nothing covered that shall not be revealed_.[145] But, O my God, there is another way of knowing my sins, which thou lovest better than any of these; to know them by my confession. As physic works, so it draws the peccant humour to itself, that, when it is gathered together, the weight of itself may carry that humour away; so thy Spirit returns to my memory my former sins, that, being so recollected, they may pour out themselves by confession. _When I kept silence_, says thy servant David, _day and night thy hand was heavy upon me_; but when I said, _I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord, thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin_.[146] Thou interpretest the very purpose of confession so well, as that thou scarce leavest any new mercy for the action itself. This mercy thou leavest, that thou armest us thereupon against relapses into the sins which we have confessed. And that mercy which thy servant Augustine apprehends when he says to thee, "Thou hast forgiven me those sins which I have done, and those sins which only by thy grace I have not done": they were done in our inclination to them, and even that inclination needs thy mercy, and that mercy he calls a pardon. And these are most truly secret sins, because they were never done, and because no other man, nor I myself, but only thou knowest, how many and how great sins I have escaped by thy grace, which, without that, I should have multiplied against thee.

X. Prayer

X. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who as thy Son Christ Jesus, though he knew all things, yet said he knew not the day of judgment, because he knew it not so as that he might tell us; so though thou knowest all my sins, yet thou knowest them not to my comfort, except thou know them by my telling them to thee. How shall I bring to thy knowledge, by that way, those sins which I myself know not? If I accuse myself of original sin, wilt thou ask me if I know what original sin is? I know not enough of it to satisfy others, but I know enough to condemn myself, and to solicit thee. If I confess to thee the sins of my youth, wilt thou ask me if I know what those sins were? I know them not so well as to name them all, nor am sure to live hours enough to name them all (for I did them then faster than I can speak them now, when every thing that I did conduced to some sin), but I know them so well as to know that nothing but thy mercy is so infinite as they. If the naming of sins of thought, word and deed, of sins of omission and of action, of sins against thee, against my neighbour and against myself, of sins unrepented and sins relapsed into after repentance, of sins of ignorance and sins against the testimony of my conscience, of sins against thy commandments, sins against thy Son's Prayer, and sins against our own creed, of sins against the laws of that church, and sins against the laws of that state in which thou hast given me my station; if the naming of these sins reach not home to all mine, I know what will. O Lord, pardon me, me, all those sins which thy Son Christ Jesus suffered for, who suffered for all the sins of all the world; for there is no sin amongst all those which had not been my sin, if thou hadst not been my God, and antedated me a pardon in thy preventing grace. And since sin, in the nature of it, retains still so much of the author of it that it is a serpent, insensibly insinuating itself into my soul, let thy brazen serpent (the contemplation of thy Son crucified for me) be evermore present to me, for my recovery against the sting of the first serpent; that so, as I have a Lion against a lion, the Lion of the tribe of Judah against that lion that seeks whom he may devour, so I may have a serpent against a serpent, the wisdom of the serpent against the malice of the serpent, and both against that lion and serpent, forcible and subtle temptations, thy dove with thy olive in thy ark, humility and peace and reconciliation to thee, by the ordinances of thy church. Amen.

FOOTNOTES:

[135] Josephus.

[136] Jer. ix. 21.

[137] John, viii. 44.

[138] John, vi. 70.

[139] Psalm xix. 12.

[140] Isaiah, xlvii. 10.

[141] Gen. iv. 10.

[142] Eccles. x. 20.

[143] Gen. iii. 8.

[144] Eccles. xii. 14.

[145] Matt. x. 26.

[146] Psalm xxxii. 3-5.

Xi. Nobilibusque Trahunt, A Cincto Corde, Venenum, Succis Et Gemmis, Et

XI. NOBILIBUSQUE TRAHUNT, A CINCTO CORDE, VENENUM, SUCCIS ET GEMMIS, ET QUÆ GENEROSA, MINISTRANT ARS, ET NATURA, INSTILLANT.

_They use cordials, to keep the venom and malignity of the disease from the heart._

Xi. Meditation

XI. MEDITATION.

Whence can we take a better argument, a clearer demonstration, that all the greatness of this world is built upon opinion of others and hath in itself no real being, nor power of subsistence, than from the heart of man? It is always in action and motion, still busy, still pretending to do all, to furnish all the powers and faculties with all that they have; but if an enemy dare rise up against it, it is the soonest endangered, the soonest defeated of any part. The brain will hold out longer than it, and the liver longer than that; they will endure a siege; but an unnatural heat, a rebellious heat, will blow up the heart, like a mine, in a minute. But howsoever, since the heart hath the birthright and primogeniture, and that it is nature's eldest son in us, the part which is first born to life in man, and that the other parts, as younger brethren, and servants in his family, have a dependance upon it, it is reason that the principal care be had of it, though it be not the strongest part, as the eldest is oftentimes not the strongest of the family. And since the brain, and liver, and heart hold not a triumvirate in man, a sovereignty equally shed upon them all, for his well-being, as the four elements do for his very being, but the heart alone is in the principality, and in the throne, as king, the rest as subjects, though in eminent place and office, must contribute to that, as children to their parents, as all persons to all kinds of superiors, though oftentimes those parents or those superiors be not of stronger parts than themselves, that serve and obey them that are weaker. Neither doth this obligation fall upon us, by second dictates of nature, by consequences and conclusions arising out of nature, or derived from nature by discourse (as many things bind us even by the law of nature, and yet not by the primary law of nature; as all laws of propriety in that which we possess are of the law of nature, which law is, to give every one his own, and yet in the primary law of nature there was no propriety, no _meum et tuum_, but an universal community overall; so the obedience of superiors is of the law of nature, and yet in the primary law of nature there was no superiority, no magistracy); but this contribution of assistance of all to the sovereign, of all parts to the heart, is from the very first dictates of nature, which is, in the first place, to have care of our own preservation, to look first to ourselves; for therefore doth the physician intermit the present care of brain or liver, because there is a possibility that they may subsist, though there be not a present and a particular care had of them, but there is no possibility that they can subsist, if the heart perish: and so, when we seem to begin with others, in such assistances, indeed, we do begin with ourselves, and we ourselves are principally in our contemplation; and so all these officious and mutual assistances are but compliments towards others, and our true end is ourselves. And this is the reward of the pains of kings; sometimes they need the power of law to be obeyed; and when they seem to be obeyed voluntarily, they who do it do it for their own sakes. O how little a thing is all the greatness of man and through how false glasses doth he make shift to multiply it, and magnify it to himself! And yet this is also another misery of this king of man, the heart, which is also applicable to the kings of this world, great men, that the venom and poison of every pestilential disease directs itself to the heart, affects that (pernicious affection), and the malignity of ill men is also directed upon the greatest and the best; and not only greatness but goodness loses the vigour of being an antidote or cordial against it. And as the noblest and most generous cordials that nature or art afford, or can prepare, if they be often taken and made familiar, become no cordials, nor have any extraordinary operation, so the greatest cordial of the heart, patience, if it be much exercised, exalts the venom and the malignity of the enemy, and the more we suffer the more we are insulted upon. When God had made this earth of nothing, it was but a little help that he had, to make other things of this earth: nothing can be nearer nothing than this earth; and yet how little of this earth is the greatest man! He thinks he treads upon the earth, that all is under his feet, and the brain that thinks so is but earth; his highest region, the flesh that covers that, is but earth, and even the top of that, that wherein so many Absaloms take so much pride, is but a bush growing upon that turf of earth. How little of the world is the earth! And yet that is all that man hath or is. How little of a man is the heart, and yet it is all by which he is; and this continually subject not only to foreign poisons conveyed by others, but to intestine poisons bred in ourselves by pestilential sicknesses. O who, if before he had a being he could have sense of this misery, would buy a being here upon these conditions?

Xi. Expostulation

XI. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, all that thou askest of me is my heart, _My Son, give me thy heart_.[147] Am I thy Son as long as I have but my heart? Wilt thou give me an inheritance, a filiation, any thing for my heart? O thou, who saidst to Satan, _Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him upon the earth_,[148] shall my fear, shall my zeal, shall my jealousy, have leave to say to thee, Hast thou considered my heart, that there is not so perverse a heart upon earth; and wouldst thou have that, and shall I be thy son, thy eternal Son's coheir, for giving that? _The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?_[149] He that asks that question makes the answer, I the Lord search the heart. When didst thou search mine? Dost thou think to find it, as thou madest it, in Adam? Thou hast searched since, and found all these gradations in the ill of our hearts, _that every imagination of the thoughts of our hearts is only evil continually_.[150] Dost thou remember this, and wouldst thou have my heart? O God of all light, I know thou knowest all, and it is thou[151] that declarest unto man what is his heart. Without thee, O sovereign Goodness, I could not know how ill my heart were. Thou hast declared unto me, in thy word, that for all this deluge of evil that hath surrounded all hearts, yet thou soughtest and foundest a man after thine own heart;[152] that thou couldst and wouldst give thy people pastors according to thine own heart;[153] and I can gather out of thy word so good testimony of the hearts of men as to find single hearts, docile and apprehensive hearts; hearts that can, hearts that have learned; wise hearts in one place, and in another in a great degree wise, perfect hearts; straight hearts, no perverseness without; and clean hearts, no foulness within: such hearts I can find in thy word; and if my heart were such a heart, I would give thee my heart. But I find stony hearts too,[154] and I have made mine such: I have found hearts that are snares;[155] and I have conversed with such; hearts that burn like ovens;[156] and the fuel of lust, and envy, and ambition, hath inflamed mine; hearts in which their masters trust, and _he that trusteth in his own heart is a fool_;[157] his confidence in his own moral constancy and civil fortitude will betray him, when thou shalt cast a spiritual damp, a heaviness and dejection of spirit upon him. I have found these hearts, and a worse than these, a heart into the which the devil himself is entered, Judas's heart.[158] The first kind of heart, alas, my God, I have not; the last are not hearts to be given to thee. What shall I do? Without that present I cannot be thy son, and I have it not. To those of the first kind thou givest joyfulness of heart,[159] and I have not that; to those of the other kind thou givest faintness of heart;[160] and blessed be thou, O God, for that forbearance, I have not that yet. There is then a middle kind of hearts, not so perfect as to be given but that the very giving mends them; not so desperate as not to be accepted but that the very accepting dignifies them. This is a melting heart,[161] and a troubled heart, and a wounded heart, and a broken heart, and a contrite heart; and by the powerful working of thy piercing Spirit such a heart I have. Thy Samuel spake unto all the house of thy Israel, and said, _If you return to the Lord with all your hearts, prepare your hearts unto the Lord_.[162] If my heart be prepared, it is a returning heart. And if thou see it upon the way, thou wilt carry it home. Nay, the preparation is thine too; this melting, this wounding, this breaking, this contrition, which I have now, is thy way to thy end; and those discomforts are, for all that, _the earnest of thy Spirit in my heart_;[163] and where thou givest earnest, thou wilt perform the bargain. Nabal was confident upon his wine, but _in the morning his heart died within him_.[164] Thou, O Lord, hast given me wormwood, and I have had some diffidence upon that; and thou hast cleared a morning to me again, and my heart is alive. David's heart smote him when he cut off the skirt from Saul;[165] and his heart smote him when he had numbered his people:[166] my heart hath struck me when I come to number my sins; but that blow is not to death, because those sins are not to death, but my heart lives in thee. But yet as long as I remain in this great hospital, this sick, this diseaseful world, as long as I remain in this leprous house, this flesh of mine, this heart, though thus prepared for thee, prepared by thee, will still be subject to the invasion of malign and pestilent vapours. But I have my cordials in thy promise; _when I shall know the plague of my heart, and pray unto thee in thy house_,[167] thou wilt preserve that heart from all mortal force of that infection; _and the peace of God, which passeth all understandings shall keep my heart and mind through Christ Jesus_.[168]

Xi. Prayer

XI. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who in thy upper house, the heavens, though there be many mansions, yet art alike and equally in every mansion; but here in thy lower house, though thou fillest all, yet art otherwise in some rooms thereof than in others; otherwise in thy church than in my chamber, and otherwise in thy sacraments than in my prayers; so though thou be always present and always working in every room of this thy house, my body, yet I humbly beseech thee to manifest always a more effectual presence in my heart than in the other offices. Into the house of thine anointed, disloyal persons, traitors, will come; into thy house, the church, hypocrites and idolators will come; into some rooms of this thy house, my body, temptations will come, infections will come; but be my heart thy bedchamber, O my God, and thither let them not enter. Job made a covenant with his eyes, but not his making of that covenant, but thy dwelling in his heart, enabled him to keep that covenant. Thy Son himself had a sadness in his soul to death, and he had a reluctation, a deprecation of death, in the approaches thereof; but he had his cordial too, _Yet not my will, but thine be done_. And as thou hast not delivered us, thine adopted sons, from these infectious temptations, so neither hast thou delivered us over to them, nor withheld thy cordials from us. I was baptized in thy cordial water against original sin, and I have drunk of thy cordial blood, for my recovery from actual and habitual sin, in the other sacrament. Thou, O Lord, who hast imprinted all medicinal virtues which are in all creatures, and hast made even the flesh of vipers to assist in cordials, art able to make this present sickness, everlasting health, this weakness, everlasting strength, and this very dejection and faintness of heart, a powerful cordial. When thy blessed Son cried out to thee, _My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?_ thou didst reach out thy hand to him; but not to deliver his sad soul, but to receive his holy soul: neither did he longer desire to hold it of thee, but to recommend it to thee. I see thine hand upon me now, O Lord, and I ask not why it comes, what it intends; whether thou wilt bid it stay still in this body for some time, or bid it meet thee this day in paradise, I ask not, not in a wish, not in a thought. Infirmity of nature, curiosity of mind, are temptations that offer; but a silent and absolute obedience to thy will, even before I know it, is my cordial. Preserve that to me, O my God, and that will preserve me to thee; that, when thou hast catechised me with affliction here, I may take a greater degree, and serve thee in a higher place, in thy kingdom of joy and glory. Amen.

FOOTNOTES:

[147] Prov. xxiii. 26.

[148] Job, i. 8.

[149] Jer. xvii. 9.

[150] Gen. vi. 5.

[151] Amos, iv. 13.

[152] 1 Sam. xiii. 14.

[153] Jer. iii. 15.

[154] Ezek. xi. 19.

[155] Eccles. vii. 26.

[156] Hos. vii. 6.

[157] Prov. xxviii. 26.

[158] John, xiii. 2.

[159] Ecclus. l. 23.

[160] Lev. xxvi. 36.

[161] Josh. ii. 11.

[162] 1 Sam. vii. 3.

[163] 2 Cor. i. 22.

[164] 1 Sam. xxv. 37.

[165] 1 Sam. xxiv. 5.

[166] 2 Sam. xxiv. 10.

[167] 1 Kings, viii. 38.

[168] Phil. iv. 7.

XII. ------------------ Spirante columba Supposita pedibus, revocantur ad ima vapores.

_They apply pigeons, to draw the vapours from the head._

Xii. Meditation

XII. MEDITATION.

What will not kill a man if a vapour will? How great an elephant, how small a mouse destroys! To die by a bullet is the soldier's daily bread; but few men die by hail-shot. A man is more worth than to be sold for single money; a life to be valued above a trifle. If this were a violent shaking of the air by thunder or by cannon, in that case the air is condensed above the thickness of water, of water baked into ice, almost petrified, almost made stone, and no wonder that kills; but that which is but a vapour, and a vapour not forced but breathed, should kill, that our nurse should overlay us, and air that nourishes us should destroy us, but that it is a half atheism to murmur against Nature, who is God's immediate commissioner, who would not think himself miserable to be put into the hands of Nature, who does not only set him up for a mark for others to shoot at, but delights herself to blow him up like a glass, till she see him break, even with her own breath? Nay, if this infectious vapour were sought for, or travelled to, as Pliny hunted after the vapour of Ætna and dared and challenged Death in the form of a vapour to do his worst, and felt the worst, he died; or if this vapour were met withal in an ambush, and we surprised with it, out of a long shut well, or out of a new opened mine, who would lament, who would accuse, when we had nothing to accuse, none to lament against but fortune, who is less than a vapour? But when ourselves are the well that breathes out this exhalation, the oven that spits out this fiery smoke, the mine that spews out this suffocating and strangling damp, who can ever, after this, aggravate his sorrow by this circumstance, that it was his neighbour, his familiar friend, his brother, that destroyed him, and destroyed him with a whispering and a calumniating breath, when we ourselves do it to ourselves by the same means, kill ourselves with our own vapours? Or if these occasions of this self-destruction had any contribution from our own wills, any assistance from our own intentions, nay, from our own errors, we might divide the rebuke, and chide ourselves as much as them. Fevers upon wilful distempers of drink and surfeits, consumptions upon intemperances and licentiousness, madness upon misplacing or overbending our natural faculties, proceed from ourselves, and so as that ourselves are in the plot, and we are not only passive, but active too, to our own destruction. But what have I done, either to breed or to breathe these vapours? They tell me it is my melancholy; did I infuse, did I drink in melancholy into myself? It is my thoughtfulness; was I not made to think? It is my study; doth not my calling call for that? I have done nothing wilfully, perversely toward it, yet must suffer in it, die by it. There are too many examples of men that have been their own executioners, and that have made hard shift to be so: some have always had poison about them, in a hollow ring upon their finger, and some in their pen that they used to write with; some have beat out their brains at the wall of their prison, and some have eat the fire out of their chimneys;[169] and one is said to have come nearer our case than so, to have strangled himself, though his hands were bound, by crushing his throat between his knees. But I do nothing upon myself, and yet am mine own executioner. And we have heard of death upon small occasions and by scornful instruments: a pin, a comb, a hair pulled, hath gangrened and killed; but when I have said a vapour, if I were asked again what is a vapour, I could not tell, it is so insensible a thing; so near nothing is that that reduces us to nothing. But extend this vapour, rarefy it; from so narrow a room as our natural bodies, to any politic body, to a state. That which is fume in us is, in a state rumour; and these vapours in us, which we consider here pestilent and infectious fumes, are, in a state, infecitious rumours, detracting and dishonourable calumnies, libels. The heart in that body is the king, and the brain his council; and the whole magistracy, that ties all together, is the sinews which proceed from thence; and the life of all is honour, and just respect, and due reverence; and therefore, when these vapours, these venomous rumours, are directed against these noble parts, the whole body suffers. But yet for all their privileges, they are not privileged from our misery; that as the vapours most pernicious to us arise in our own bodies, so do the most dishonourable rumours, and those that wound a state most arise at home. What ill air that I could have met in the street, what channel, what shambles, what dunghill, what vault, could have hurt me so much as these homebred vapours? What fugitive, what almsman of any foreign state, can do so much harm as a detractor, a libeller, a scornful jester at home? For as they that write of poisons, and of creatures naturally disposed to the ruin of man, do as well mention the flea as the viper[170], because the flea, though he kill none, he does all the harm he can; so even these libellous and licentious jesters utter the venom they have, though sometimes virtue, and always power, be a good pigeon to draw this vapour from the head and from doing any deadly harm there.

Xii. Expostulation

XII. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, as thy servant James, when he asks that question, _What is your life?_ provides me my answer, _It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away_;[171] so, if he did ask me what is your death, I am provided of my answer, it is a vapour too; and why should it not be all one to me, whether I live or die, if life and death be all one, both a vapour? Thou hast made vapour so indifferent a thing as that thy blessings and thy judgments are equally expressed by it, and is made by thee the hieroglyphic of both. Why should not that be always good by which thou hast declared thy plentiful goodness to us? _A vapour went up from the earth, and watered the whole face of the ground._[172] And that by which thou hast imputed a goodness to us, and wherein thou hast accepted our service to thee, sacrifices; for sacrifices were vapours;[173] and in them it is said, that a _thick cloud of incense went up to thee_.[174] So it is of that wherein thou comest to us, the dew of heaven, and of that wherein we come to thee, both are vapours; and he, in whom we have and are all that we are or have, temporally or spiritually, thy blessed Son, in the person of Wisdom, is called so too; _She is_ (that is, he is) _the vapour of the power of God, and the pure influence from the glory of the Almighty._[175] Hast thou, thou, O my God, perfumed vapour with thine own breath, with so many sweet acceptations in thine own word, and shall this vapour receive an ill and infectious sense? It must; for, since we have displeased thee with that which is but vapour (for what is sin but a vapour, but a smoke, though such a smoke as takes away our sight, and disables us from seeing our danger), it is just that thou punish us with vapours too. For so thou dost, as the wise man tells us, thou canst punish us by those things wherein we offend thee; as he hath expressed it there, _by beasts newly created, breathing vapours_.[176] Therefore that commination of thine, by thy prophet, _I will show wonders in the heaven, and in the earth, blood and fire, and pillars of smoke_;[177] thine apostle, who knew thy meaning best, calls _vapours of smoke_.[178] One prophet presents thee in thy terribleness so, _There went out a smoke at his nostrils_,[179] and another the effect of thine anger so, _The house was filled with smoke_;[180] and he that continues his prophecy as long as the world can continue, describes the miseries of the latter times so, _Out of the bottomless pit arose a smoke, that darkened the sun, and out of that smoke came locusts, who had the power of scorpions_.[181] Now all smokes begin in fire, and all these will end so too: the smoke of sin and of thy wrath will end in the fire of hell. But hast thou afforded us no means to evaporate these smokes, to withdraw these vapours? When thine angels fell from heaven, thou tookest into thy care the reparation of that place, and didst it by assuming, by drawing us thither; when we fell from thee here, in this world, thou tookest into thy care the reparation of this place too, and didst it by assuming us another way, by descending down to assume our nature, in thy Son. So that though our last act be an ascending to glory (we shall ascend to the place of angels), yet our first act is to go the way of thy Son, descending, and the way of thy blessed Spirit too, who descended in the dove. Therefore hast thou been pleased to afford us this remedy in nature, by this application of a dove to our lower parts, to make these vapours in our bodies to descend, and to make that a type to us, that, by the visitation of thy Spirit, the vapours of sin shall descend, and we tread them under our feet. At the baptism of thy Son, the Dove descended, and at the exalting of thine apostles to preach, the same Spirit descended. Let us draw down the vapours of our own pride, our own wits, our own wills, our own inventions, to the simplicity of thy sacraments and the obedience of thy word; and these doves, thus applied, shall make us live.

Xii. Prayer

XII. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who, though thou have suffered us to destroy ourselves, and hast not given us the power of reparation in ourselves, hast yet afforded us such means of reparation as may easily and familiarly be compassed by us, prosper, I humbly beseech thee, this means of bodily assistance in this thy ordinary creature, and prosper thy means of spiritual assistance in thy holy ordinances. And as thou hast carried this thy creature, the dove, through all thy ways through nature, and made it naturally proper to conduce medicinally to our bodily health, through the law, and made it a sacrifice for sin there, and through the gospel, and made it, and thy Spirit in it, a witness of thy Son's baptism there, so carry it, and the qualities of it, home to my soul, and imprint there that simplicity, that mildness, that harmlessness, which thou hast imprinted by nature in this creature. That so all vapours of all disobedience to thee, being subdued under my feet, I may, in the power and triumph of thy Son, tread victoriously upon my grave, and trample upon the lion and dragon[182] that lie under it to devour me. Thou, O Lord, by the prophet, callest the dove the _dove of the valleys_, but promisest that the _dove of the valleys shall be upon the mountain_.[183] As thou hast laid me low in this valley of sickness, so low as that I am made fit for that question asked in the field of bones, _Son of man, can these bones live?_[184] so, in thy good time, carry me up to these mountains of which even in this valley thou affordest me a prospect, the mountain where thou dwellest, the holy hill, unto which none can ascend _but he that hath clean hands_, which none can have but by that one and that strong way of making them clean, in the blood of thy Son Christ Jesus. Amen.

FOOTNOTES:

[169] Coma, latro. in Val. Max.

[170] Ardoinus.

[171] James, iv. 14.

[172] Gen. ii. 6.

[173] Lev. xvi. 13.

[174] Ezek. viii. 11.

[175] Wisd. vii. 25.

[176] Wisd. xi. 18.

[177] Joel, ii. 30.

[178] Acts, ii. 19.

[179] Psalm xviii. 8.

[180] Isaiah, vi. 4.

[181] Rev. ix. 2.

XIII. INGENIUMQUE MALUM, NUMEROSO STIGMATE, FASSUS PELLITUR AD PECTUS, MORBIQUE SUBURBIA, MORBUS.

_The sickness declares the infection and malignity thereof by spots._

Xiii. Meditation

XIII. MEDITATION.

We say that the world is made of sea and land, as though they were equal; but we know that there is more sea in the Western than in the Eastern hemisphere. We say that the firmament is full of stars, as though it were equally full; but we know that there are more stars under the Northern than under the Southern pole. We say the elements of man are misery and happiness, as though he had an equal proportion of both, and the days of man vicissitudinary, as though he had as many good days as ill, and that he lived under a perpetual equinoctial, night and day equal, good and ill fortune in the same measure. But it is far from that; he drinks misery, and he tastes happiness; he mows misery, and he gleans happiness; he journeys in misery, he does but walk in happiness; and, which is worst, his misery is positive and dogmatical, his happiness is but disputable and problematical: all men call misery misery, but happiness changes the name by the taste of man. In this accident that befalls me, now that this sickness declares itself by spots to be a malignant and pestilential disease, if there be a comfort in the declaration, that thereby the physicians see more clearly what to do, there may be as much discomfort in this, that the malignity may be so great as that all that they can do shall do nothing; that an enemy declares himself then, when he is able to subsist, and to pursue, and to achieve his ends, is no great comfort. In intestine conspiracies, voluntary confessions do more good than confessions upon the rack; in these infections, when nature herself confesses and cries out by these outward declarations which she is able to put forth of herself, they minister comfort; but when all is by the strength of cordials, it is but a confession upon the rack, by which, though we come to know the malice of that man, yet we do not know whether there be not as much malice in his heart then as before his confession; we are sure of his treason, but not of his repentance; sure of him, but not of his accomplices. It is a faint comfort to know the worst when the worst is remediless, and a weaker than that to know much ill, and not to know that that is the worst. A woman is comforted with the birth of her son, her body is eased of a burden; but if she could prophetically read his history, how ill a man, perchance how ill a son, he would prove, she should receive a greater burden into her mind. Scarce any purchase that is not clogged with secret incumbrances; scarce any happiness that hath not in it so much of the nature of false and base money, as that the allay is more than the metal. Nay, is it not so (at least much towards it) even in the exercise of virtues? I must be poor and want before I can exercise the virtue of gratitude; miserable, and in torment, before I can exercise the virtue of patience. How deep do we dig, and for how coarse gold! And what other touchstone have we of our gold but comparison, whether we be as happy as others, or as ourselves at other times? O poor step toward being well, when these spots do only tell us that we are worse than we were sure of before.

Xiii. Expostulation

XIII. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, thou hast made this sick bed thine altar, and I have no other sacrifice to offer but myself; and wilt thou accept no spotted sacrifice? Doth thy Son dwell bodily in this flesh that thou shouldst look for an unspottedness here? or is the Holy Ghost the soul of this body, as he is of thy spouse, who is therefore _all fair, and no spot in her_?[185] or hath thy Son himself no spots, who hath all our stains and deformities in him? or hath thy spouse, thy church, no spots, when every particular limb of that fair and spotless body, every particular soul in that church, is full of stains and spots? Thou bidst us _hate the garment that is spotted with the flesh_.[186] The flesh itself is the garment, and it spotteth itself with itself. And _if I wash myself with snow water, mine own clothes shall make me abominable_;[187] and yet _no man yet ever hated his own flesh_.[188] Lord, if thou look for a spotlessness, whom wilt thou look upon? Thy mercy may go a great way in my soul and yet not leave me without spots; thy corrections may go far and burn deep, and yet not leave me spotless: thy children apprehended that, when they said, _From our former iniquity we are not cleansed until this day, though there was a plague in the congregation of the Lord_.[189] Thou rainest upon us, and yet dost not always mollify all our hardness; thou kindlest thy fires in us, and yet dost not always burn up all our dross; thou healest our wounds, and yet leavest scars; thou purgest the blood, and yet leavest spots. But the spots that thou hatest are the spots that we hide. The carvers of images cover spots,[190] says the wise man; when we hide our spots, we become idolators of our own stains, of our own foulnesses. But if my spots come forth, by what means soever, whether by the strength of nature, by voluntary confession (for grace is the nature of a regenerate man, and the power of grace is the strength of nature), or by the virtue of cordials (for even thy corrections are cordials), if they come forth either way, thou receivest that confession with a gracious interpretation. When thy servant Jacob practised an invention to procure spots in his sheep,[191] thou didst prosper his rods; and thou dost prosper thine own rods, when corrections procure the discovery of our spots, the humble manifestation of our sins to thee; till then thou mayst justly say, _The whole need not the physician_;[192] till we tell thee in our sickness we think ourselves whole, till we show our spots, thou appliest no medicine. But since I do that, shall I not, _Lord, lift up my face without spot, and be steadfast, and not fear_?[193] Even my spots belong to thy Son's body, and are part of that which he came down to this earth to fetch, and challenge, and assume to himself. When I open my spots I do but present him with that which is his; and till I do so, I detain and withhold his right. When therefore thou seest them upon me, as his, and seest them by this way of confession, they shall not appear to me as the pinches of death, to decline my fear to hell (for thou hast not left thy holy one in hell, thy Son is not there); but these spots upon my breast, and upon my soul, shall appear to me as the constellations of the firmament, to direct my contemplation to that place where thy Son is, thy right hand.

Xiii. Prayer

XIII. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who as thou givest all for nothing, if we consider any precedent merit in us, so givest nothing for nothing, if we consider the acknowledgment and thankfulness which thou lookest for after, accept my humble thanks, both for thy mercy, and for this particular mercy, that in thy judgment I can discern thy mercy, and find comfort in thy corrections. I know, O Lord, the ordinary discomfort that accompanies that phrase, that the house is visited, and that, that thy marks and thy tokens are upon the patient; but what a wretched and disconsolate hermitage is that house which is not visited by thee, and what a waif and stray is that man that hath not thy marks upon him? These heats, O Lord, which thou hast brought upon this body, are but thy chafing of the wax, that thou mightst seal me to thee: these spots are but the letters in which thou hast written thine own name and conveyed thyself to me; whether for a present possession, by taking me now, or for a future reversion, by glorifying thyself in my stay here, I limit not, I condition not, I choose not, I wish not, no more than the house or land that passeth by any civil conveyance. Only be thou ever present to me, O my God, and this bedchamber and thy bedchamber shall be all one room, and the closing of these bodily eyes here, and the opening of the eyes of my soul there, all one act.

FOOTNOTES:

[182] Psalm xci. 13.

[183] Ezek. vii. 16.

[184] Ezek. xxxvii. 3.

[185] Cant. iv. 7.

[186] Jude, 23.

[187] Job, ix. 30

[188] Eph. v. 29

[189] Josh. xxii. 17

[190] Wisd. xiii. 14

[191] Gen. xxx. 33

[192] Matt. ix. 12

[193] Job, xi. 15.

Xiv. Idque Notant Criticis Medici Evenisse Diebus

XIV. IDQUE NOTANT CRITICIS MEDICI EVENISSE DIEBUS.

_The physicians observe these accidents to have fallen upon the critical days._

Xiv. Meditation

XIV. MEDITATION.

I would not make man worse than he is, nor his condition more miserable than it is. But could I though I would? As a man cannot flatter God, nor overpraise him, so a man cannot injure man, nor undervalue him. Thus much must necessarily be presented to his remembrance, that those false happinesses which he hath in this world, have their times, and their seasons, and their critical days; and they are judged and denominated according to the times when they befall us. What poor elements are our happinesses made of, if time, time which we can scarce consider to be any thing, be an essential part of our happiness! All things are done in some place; but if we consider place to be no more but the next hollow superficies of the air, alas! how thin and fluid a thing is air, and how thin a film is a superficies, and a superficies of air! All things are done in time too, but if we consider time to be but the measure of motion, and howsoever it may seem to have three stations, past, present, and future, yet the first and last of these are not (one is not now, and the other is not yet), and that which you call present, is not now the same that it was when you began to call it so in this line (before you sound that word present, or that monosyllable now, the present and the now is past). If this imaginary, half-nothing time, be of the essence of our happinesses, how can they be thought durable? Time is not so; how can they be thought to be? Time is not so; not so considered in any of the parts thereof. If we consider eternity, into that time never entered; eternity is not an everlasting flux of time, but time is a short parenthesis in a long period; and eternity had been the same as it is, though time had never been. If we consider, not eternity, but perpetuity; not that which had no time to begin in, but which shall outlive time, and be when time shall be no more, what a minute is the life of the durablest creature compared to that! and what a minute is man's life in respect of the sun's, or of a tree? and yet how little of our life is occasion, opportunity to receive good in; and how little of that occasion do we apprehend and lay hold of? How busy and perplexed a cobweb is the happiness of man here, that must be made up with a watchfulness to lay hold upon occasion, which is but a little piece of that which is nothing, time? and yet the best things are nothing without that. Honours, pleasures, possessions, presented to us out of time? in our decrepit and distasted and unapprehensive age, lose their office, and lose their name; they are not honours to us that shall never appear, nor come abroad into the eyes of the people, to receive honour from them who give it; nor pleasures to us, who have lost our sense to taste them; nor possessions to us, who are departing from the possession of them. Youth is their critical day, that judges them, that denominates them, that inanimates and informs them, and makes them honours, and pleasures, and possessions; and when they come in an unapprehensive age, they come as a cordial when the bell rings out, as a pardon when the head is off. We rejoice in the comfort of fire, but does any man cleave to it at midsummer? We are glad of the freshness and coolness of a vault, but does any man keep his Christmas there; or are the pleasures of the spring acceptable in autumn? If happiness be in the season, or in the climate, how much happier then are birds than men, who can change the climate and accompany and enjoy the same season ever.

Xiv. Expostulation

XIV. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, wouldst thou call thyself the ancient of days,[194] if we were not to call ourselves to an account for our days? Wouldst thou chide us for _standing idle here all the day_,[195] if we were sure to have more days to make up our harvest? When thou bidst us _take no thought for to-morrow, for sufficient unto the day_ (to every day) _is the evil thereof_,[196] is this truly, absolutely, to put off all that concerns the present life? When thou reprehendest the Galatians by thy message to them, _That they observed days, and months, and times, and years_,[197] when thou sendest by the same messenger to forbid the Colossians all critical days, indicatory days, _Let no man judge you in respect of a holy day, or of a new moon, or of a sabbath_,[198] dost thou take away all consideration, all distinction of days? Though thou remove them from being of the essence of our salvation, thou leavest them for assistances, and for the exaltation of our devotion, to fix ourselves, at certain periodical and stationary times, upon the consideration of those things which thou hast done for us, and the crisis, the trial, the judgment, how those things have wrought upon us and disposed us to a spiritual recovery and convalescence. For there is to every man a day of salvation. _Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation_,[199] and there is _a great day of thy wrath_,[200] which no man shall be able to stand in; and there are evil days before, and therefore thou warnest us and armest us, _Take unto you the whole armour of God, that you may be able to stand in the evil day_.[201] So far then our days must be critical to us, as that by consideration of them, we may make a judgment of our spiritual health, for that is the crisis of our bodily health. Thy beloved servant, St. John, wishes to Gaius, _that he may prosper in his health, so as his soul prospers_;[202] for if the soul be lean the marrow of the body is but water; if the soul wither, the verdure and the good estate of the body is but an illusion and the goodliest man a fearful ghost. Shall we, O my God, determine our thoughts, and shall we never determine our disputations upon our climacterical years, for particular men and periodical years, for the life of states and kingdoms, and never consider these in our long life, and our interest in the everlasting kingdom? We have exercised our curiosity in observing that Adam, the eldest of the eldest world, died in his climacterical year, and Shem, the eldest son of the next world, in his; Abraham, the father of the faithful, in his, and the blessed Virgin Mary, the garden where the root of faith grew, in hers. But they whose climacterics we observe, employed their observation upon their critical days, the working of thy promise of a Messias upon them. And shall we, O my God, make less use of those days who have more of them? We, who have not only the day of the prophets, the first days, but the last days, in which thou hast spoken unto us by thy Son?[203] We are the children of the day,[204] for thou hast shined in as full a noon upon us as upon the Thessalonians: they who were of the night (a night which they had superinduced upon themselves), the Pharisees, pretended, _that if they had been in their fathers' days_ (those indicatory and judicatory, those critical days), _they would not have been partakers of the blood of the prophets_;[205] and shall we who are in the day, these days, not of the prophets, but of the Son, stone those prophets again, and crucify that Son again, for all those evident indications and critical judicatures which are afforded us? Those opposed adversaries of thy Son, the Pharisees, with the Herodians, watched a critical day; then when the state was incensed against him, came to tempt him in the dangerous question of tribute.[206] They left him, and that day was the critical day to the Sadducees. The same day, says thy Spirit in thy word, the Sadducees came to him to question him about the resurrection,[207] and them he silenced; they left him, and this was the critical day for the Scribe, expert in the law, who thought himself learneder than the Herodian, the Pharisee, or Sadducee; and he tempted him about the great commandment,[208] and him Christ left without power of replying. When all was done, and that they went about to begin their circle of vexation and temptation again, Christ silences them so, that as they had taken their critical days, to come in that and in that day, so Christ imposes a critical day upon them. _From that day forth_, says thy Spirit, _no man durst ask him any more questions_.[209] This, O my God, my most blessed God, is a fearful crisis, a fearful indication, when we will study, and seek, and find, what days are fittest to forsake thee in; to say, now religion is in a neutrality in the world, and this is my day, the day of liberty; now I may make new friends by changing my old religion, and this is my day, the day of advancement. But, O my God, with thy servant Jacob's holy boldness, who, though thou lamedst him, would not let thee go till thou hadst given him a blessing;[210] though thou have laid me upon my hearse, yet thou shalt not depart from me, from this bed, till thou have given me a crisis, a judgment upon myself this day. Since _a day is as a thousand years with thee_,[211] let, O Lord, a day be as a week to me; and in this one, let me consider seven days, seven critical days, and judge myself that I be not judged by thee. First, this is the day of thy visitation, thy coming to me; and would I look to be welcome to thee, and not entertain thee in thy coming to me? We measure not the visitations of great persons by their apparel, by their equipage, by the solemnity of their coming, but by their very coming; and therefore, howsoever thou come, it is a crisis to me, that thou wouldst not lose me who seekest me by any means. This leads me from my first day, thy visitation by sickness, to a second, to the light and testimony of my conscience. There I have an evening and a morning, a sad guiltiness in my soul, but yet a cheerful rising of thy Sun too; thy evenings and mornings made days in the creation, and there is no mention of nights; my sadnesses for sins are evenings, but they determine not in night, but deliver me over to the day, the day of a conscience dejected, but then rectified, accused, but then acquitted, by thee, by him who speaks thy word, and who is thy word, thy Son. From this day, the crisis and examination of my conscience, breaks out my third day, my day of preparing and fitting myself for a more especial receiving of thy Son in his institution of the Sacrament; in which day, though there be many dark passages and slippery steps to them who will entangle and endanger themselves in unnecessary disputations, yet there are light hours enough for any man to go his whole journey intended by thee, to know that that bread and wine is not more really assimilated to my body, and to my blood, than the body and blood of thy Son is communicated to me in that action, and participation of that bread and that wine. And having, O my God, walked with thee these three days, the day of thy visitation, the day of my conscience, the day of preparing for this seal of reconciliation, I am the less afraid of the clouds or storms of my fourth day, the day of my dissolution and transmigration from hence. Nothing deserves the name of happiness that makes the remembrance of death bitter; and, _O death, how bitter is the remembrance of thee, to a man that lives at rest in his possessions, the man that hath nothing to vex him, yea unto him that is able to receive meat!_[212] Therefore hast thou, O my God, made this sickness, in which I am not able to receive meat, my fasting day, my eve to this great festival, my dissolution. And this day of death shall deliver me over to my fifth day, the day of my resurrection; for how long a day soever thou make that day in the grave, yet there is no day between that and the resurrection. Then we shall all be invested, reapparelled in our own bodies; but they who have made just use of their former days be super-invested with glory; whereas the others, condemned to their old clothes, their sinful bodies, shall have nothing added but immortality to torment. And this day of awaking me, and reinvesting my soul in my body, and my body in the body of Christ, shall present me, body and soul, to my sixth day, the day of judgment, which is truly, and most literally, the critical, the decretory day; both because all judgment shall be manifested to me then, and I shall assist in judging the world then, and because then, that judgment shall declare to me, and possess me of my seventh day, my everlasting Sabbath in thy rest, thy glory, thy joy, thy sight, thyself; and where I shall live as long without reckoning any more days after, as thy Son and thy Holy Spirit lived with thee, before you three made any days in the creation.

Xiv. Prayer

XIV. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who, though thou didst permit darkness to be before light in the creation, yet in the making of light didst so multiply that light, as that it enlightened not the day only, but the night too; though thou have suffered some dimness, some clouds of sadness and disconsolateness to shed themselves upon my soul, I humbly bless and thankfully glorify thy holy name, that thou hast afforded me the light of thy Spirit, against which the prince of darkness cannot prevail, nor hinder his illumination of our darkest nights, of our saddest thoughts. Even the visitation of thy most blessed Spirit upon the blessed Virgin, is called an overshadowing. There was the presence of the Holy Ghost, the fountain of all light, and yet an overshadowing; nay, except there were some light, there could be no shadow. Let thy merciful providence so govern all in this sickness, that I never fall into utter darkness, ignorance of thee, or inconsideration of myself; and let those shadows which do fall upon me, faintnesses of spirit, and condemnations of myself, be overcome by the power of thine irresistible light, the God of consolation; that when those shadows have done their office upon me, to let me see, that of myself I should fall into irrecoverable darkness, thy Spirit may do his office upon those shadows, and disperse them, and establish me in so bright a day here, as may be a critical day to me, a day wherein and whereby I may give thy judgment upon myself, and that the words of thy Son, spoken to his apostles, may reflect upon me, _Behold I am with you always, even to the end of the world_.[213]

FOOTNOTES:

[194] Dan. vii. 22.

[195] Matt. xx. 6.

[196] Matt. vi. 34.

[197] Gal. iv. 10.

[198] Col. ii. 16.

[199] 2 Cor. vi. 2.

[200] Rev. vi. 17.

[201] Eph. vi. 11.

[202] 3 John, 2.

[203] Heb. i. 2.

[204] 1 Thes. v. 8.

[205] Matt. xxiii. 30.

[206] Matt. xxii. 15.

[207] Matt. xxii. 23.

[208] Matt. xxii. 36.

[209] Matt. xxii. 46.

[210] Gen. xxxii. 26.

[211] 2 Pet. iii. 8.

[212] Ecclus. xli. 1.

Xv. Interea Insomnes Noctes Ego Duco, Diesque

XV. INTEREA INSOMNES NOCTES EGO DUCO, DIESQUE.

_I sleep not day nor night._

Xv. Meditation

XV. MEDITATION.

Natural men have conceived a twofold use of sleep; that it is a refreshing of the body in this life; that it is a preparing of the soul for the next; that it is a feast, and it is the grace at that feast; that it is our recreation and cheers us, and it is our catechism and instructs us; we lie down in a hope that we shall rise the stronger, and we lie down in a knowledge that we may rise no more. Sleep is an opiate which gives us rest, but such an opiate, as perchance, being under it, we shall wake no more. But though natural men, who have induced secondary and figurative considerations, have found out this second, this emblematical use of sleep, that it should be a representation of death, God, who wrought and perfected his work before nature began (for nature was but his apprentice, to learn in the first seven days, and now is his foreman, and works next under him), God, I say, intended sleep only for the refreshing of man by bodily rest, and not for a figure of death, for he intended not death itself then. But man having induced death upon himself, God hath taken man's creature, death, into his hand, and mended it; and whereas it hath in itself a fearful form and aspect, so that man is afraid of his own creature, God presents it to him in a familiar, in an assiduous, in an agreeable and acceptable form, in sleep; that so when he awakes from sleep, and says to himself, "Shall I be no otherwise when I am dead, than I was even now when I was asleep?" he may be ashamed of his waking dreams, and of his melancholy fancying out a horrid and an affrightful figure of that death which is so like sleep. As then we need sleep to live out our threescore and ten years, so we need death to live that life which we cannot outlive. And as death being our enemy, God allows us to defend ourselves against it (for we victual ourselves against death twice every day), as often as we eat, so God having so sweetened death unto us as he hath in sleep, we put ourselves into our enemy's hands once every day, so far as sleep is death; and sleep is as much death as meat is life. This then is the misery of my sickness, that death, as it is produced from me and is mine own creature, is now before mine eyes, but in that form in which God hath mollified it to us, and made it acceptable, in sleep I cannot see it. How many prisoners, who have even hollowed themselves their graves upon that earth on which they have lain long under heavy fetters, yet at this hour are asleep, though they be yet working upon their own graves by their own weight? He that hath seen his friend die to-day, or knows he shall see it to-morrow, yet will sink into a sleep between. I cannot, and oh, if I be entering now into eternity, where there shall be no more distinction of hours, why is it all my business now to tell clocks? Why is none of the heaviness of my heart dispensed into mine eye-lids, that they might fall as my heart doth? And why, since I have lost my delight in all objects, cannot I discontinue the faculty of seeing them by closing mine eyes in sleep? But why rather, being entering into that presence where I shall wake continually and never sleep more, do I not interpret my continual waking here, to be a parasceve and a preparation to that?

Xv. Expostulation

XV. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, I know (for thou hast said it) that _he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep_:[214] but shall not that Israel, over whom thou watchest, sleep? I know (for thou hast said it) that there are men whose damnation sleepeth not;[215] but shall not they to whom thou art salvation sleep? or wilt thou take from them that evidence, and that testimony that they are thy Israel, or thou their salvation? _Thou givest thy beloved sleep_:[216] shall I lack that seal of thy love? _You shall lie down, and none shall make you afraid_:[217] shall I be outlawed from that protection? Jonah slept in one dangerous storm,[218] and thy blessed Son in another;[219] shall I have no use, no benefit, no application of those great examples? _Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well_,[220] say thy Son's disciples to him of Lazarus; and shall there be no room for that argument in me? or shall I be open to the contrary? If I sleep not, shall I not be well in their sense? Let me not, O my God, take this too precisely, too literally; _There is that neither day nor night seeth sleep with his eyes_,[221] says thy wise servant Solomon; and whether he speak that of worldly men, or of men that seek wisdom, whether in justification or condemnation of their watchfulness, we cannot tell: we can tell that there are men that cannot sleep till they have done mischief,[222] and then they can; and we can tell that the rich man cannot sleep, because his abundance will not let him.[223] The tares were sown when the husbandmen were asleep[224]; and the elders thought it a probable excuse, a credible lie, that the watchmen which kept the sepulchre should say, that the body of thy Son was stolen away when they were asleep.[225] Since thy blessed Son rebuked his disciples for sleeping, shall I murmur because I do not sleep? If Samson had slept any longer in Gaza, he had been taken;[226] and when he did sleep longer with Delilah,[227] he was taken. Sleep is as often taken for natural death in thy Scriptures, as for natural rest. Nay, sometimes sleep hath so heavy a sense, as to be taken for sin itself,[228] as well as for the punishment of sin, death.[229] Much comfort is not in much sleep, when the most fearful and most irrevocable malediction is presented by thee in a perpetual sleep. _I will make their feasts, and I will make them drunk, and they shall sleep a perpetual sleep, and not wake._[230] I must therefore, O my God, look farther than into the very act of sleeping before I misinterpret my waking; for since I find thy whole hand light, shall any finger of that hand seem heavy? Since the whole sickness is thy physic, shall any accident in it be my poison by my murmuring? The name of watchmen belongs to our profession; thy prophets are not only seers, endued with a power of seeing, able to see, but watchmen evermore in the act of seeing. And therefore give me leave, O my blessed God, to invert the words of thy Son's spouse: she said, _I sleep, but my heart waketh_;[231] I say, I wake, but my heart sleepeth: my body is in a sick weariness, but my soul in a peaceful rest with thee; and as our eyes in our health see not the air that is next them, nor the fire, nor the spheres, nor stop upon any thing till they come to stars, so my eyes that are open, see nothing of this world, but pass through all that, and fix themselves upon thy peace, and joy, and glory above. Almost as soon as thy apostle had said, _Let us not sleep_,[232] lest we should be too much discomforted if we did, he says again, _Whether we wake or sleep, let us live together with Christ_.[233] Though then this absence of sleep may argue the presence of death (the original may exclude the copy, the life the picture), yet this gentle sleep and rest of my soul betroths me to thee, to whom I shall be married indissolubly, though by this way of dissolution.

Xv. Prayer

XV. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who art able to make, and dost make, the sick bed of thy servants chapels of ease to them, and the dreams of thy servants prayers and meditations upon thee, let not this continual watchfulness of mine, this inability to sleep, which thou hast laid upon me, be any disquiet or discomfort to me, but rather an argument, that thou wouldst not have me sleep in thy presence. What it may indicate or signify concerning the state of my body, let them consider to whom that consideration belongs; do thou, who only art the Physician of my soul, tell her, that thou wilt afford her such defensatives, as that she shall wake ever towards thee, and yet ever sleep in thee, and that, through all this sickness, thou wilt either preserve mine understanding from all decays and distractions which these watchings might occasion, or that thou wilt reckon and account with me from before those violences, and not call any piece of my sickness a sin. It is a heavy and indelible sin that I brought into the world with me; it is a heavy and innumerable multitude of sins which I have heaped up since; I have sinned behind thy back (if that can be done), by wilful abstaining from thy congregations and omitting thy service, and I have sinned before thy face, in my hypocrisies in prayer, in my ostentation, and the mingling a respect of myself in preaching thy word; I have sinned in my fasting, by repining when a penurious fortune hath kept me low; and I have sinned even in that fulness, when I have been at thy table, by a negligent examination, by a wilful prevarication, in receiving that heavenly food and physic. But as I know, O my gracious God, that for all those sins committed since, yet thou wilt consider me, as I was in thy purpose when thou wrotest my name in the book of life in mine election; so into what deviations soever I stray and wander by occasion of this sickness, O God, return thou to that minute wherein thou wast pleased with me and consider me in that condition.

FOOTNOTES:

[213] Matt. xxviii. 20.

[214] Psalm cxxi. 4.

[215] 2 Pet. ii. 3.

[216] Psalm cxxvii. 2.

[217] Lev. xxvi. 6.

[218] Jonah, i. 5.

[219] Matt. viii. 24.

[220] John, xi. 12.

[221] Eccles. viii. 16.

[222] Prov. iv. 16.

[223] Eccles. v. 12.

[224] Matt. xiii. 25; xxviii. 13.

[225] Matt. xxvi. 40.

[226] Judges, xvi. 3.

[227] Judges, xvi. 19.

[228] Eph. v. 14.

[229] 1 Thes. v. 6.

[230] Jer. li. 57.

[231] Cant. v. 2.

[232] 1 Thes. v. 6.

[233] 1 Thes. v. 10.

XVI. ET PROPERARE MEUM CLAMANT, E TURRE PROPINQUA, OBSTREPERÆ CAMPANÆ

Aliorum In Funere, Funus

ALIORUM IN FUNERE, FUNUS.

_From the bells of the church adjoining, I am daily remembered of my burial in the funerals of others._

Xvi. Meditation

XVI. MEDITATION.

We have a convenient author,[234] who writ a discourse of bells when he was prisoner in Turkey. How would he have enlarged himself if he had been my fellow-prisoner in this sick bed, so near to that steeple which never ceases, no more than the harmony of the spheres, but is more heard. When the Turks took Constantinople, they melted the bells into ordnance; I have heard both bells and ordnance, but never been so much affected with those as with these bells. I have lain near a steeple[235] in which there are said to be more than thirty bells, and near another, where there is one so big, as that the clapper is said to weigh more than six hundred pounds,[236] yet never so affected as here. Here the bells can scarce solemnize the funeral of any person, but that I knew him, or knew that he was my neighbour: we dwelt in houses near to one another before, but now he is gone into that house into which I must follow him. There is a way of correcting the children of great persons, that other children are corrected in their behalf, and in their names, and this works upon them who indeed had more deserved it. And when these bells tell me, that now one, and now another is buried, must not I acknowledge that they have the correction due to me, and paid the debt that I owe? There is a story of a bell in a monastery[237] which, when any of the house was sick to death, rung always voluntarily, and they knew the inevitableness of the danger by that. It rung once when no man was sick, but the next day one of the house fell from the steeple and died, and the bell held the reputation of a prophet still. If these bells that warn to a funeral now, were appropriated to none, may not I, by the hour of the funeral, supply? How many men that stand at an execution, if they would ask, For what dies that man? should hear their own faults condemned, and see themselves executed by attorney? We scarce hear of any man preferred, but we think of ourselves that we might very well have been that man; why might not I have been that man that is carried to his grave now? Could I fit myself to stand or sit in any man's place, and not to lie in any man's grave? I may lack much of the good parts of the meanest, but I lack nothing of the mortality of the weakest; they may have acquired better abilities than I, but I was born to as many infirmities as they. To be an incumbent by lying down in a grave, to be a doctor by teaching mortification by example, by dying, though I may have seniors, others may be older than I, yet I have proceeded apace in a good university, and gone a great way in a little time, by the furtherance of a vehement fever, and whomsoever these bells bring to the ground to-day, if he and I had been compared yesterday, perchance I should have been thought likelier to come to this preferment then than he. God hath kept the power of death in his own hands, lest any man should bribe death. If man knew the gain of death, the ease of death, he would solicit, he would provoke death to assist him by any hand which he might use. But as when men see many of their own professions preferred, it ministers a hope that that may light upon them; so when these hourly bells tell me of so many funerals of men like me, it presents, if not a desire that it may, yet a comfort whensoever mine shall come.

Xvi. Expostulation

XVI. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, I do not expostulate with thee, but with them who dare do that; who dare expostulate with thee, when in the voice of thy church thou givest allowance to this ceremony of bells at funerals. Is it enough to refuse it, because it was in use among the Gentiles? so were funerals too. Is it because some abuses may have crept in amongst Christians? Is that enough, that their ringing hath been said to drive away evil spirits? Truly, that is so far true, as that the evil spirit is vehemently vexed in their ringing, therefore, because that action brings the congregation together, and unites God and his people, to the destruction of that kingdom which the evil spirit usurps. In the first institution of thy church in this world, in the foundation of thy militant church amongst the Jews, thou didst appoint the calling of the assembly in to be by trumpet;[238] and when they were in, then thou gavest them the sound of bells in the garment of thy priest.[239] In the triumphant church, thou employest both too, but in an inverted order; we enter into the triumphant church by the sound of bells (for we enter when we die); and then we receive our further edification, or consummation, by the sound of trumpets at the resurrection. The sound of thy trumpets thou didst impart to secular and civil uses too, but the sound of bells only to sacred. Lord, let not us break the communion of saints in that which was intended for the advancement of it; let not that pull us asunder from one another, which was intended for the assembling of us in the militant, and associating of us to the triumphant church. But he, for whose funeral these bells ring now, was at home, at his journey's end yesterday; why ring they now? A man, that is a world, is all the things in the world; he is an army, and when an army marches, the van may lodge to-night where the rear comes not till to-morrow. A man extends to his act and to his example; to that which he does, and that which he teaches; so do those things that concern him, so do these bells; that which rung yesterday was to convey him out of the world in his van, in his soul; that which rung to-day was to bring him in his rear, in his body, to the church; and this continuing of ringing after his entering is to bring him to me in the application. Where I lie I could hear the psalm, and did join with the congregation in it; but I could not hear the sermon, and these latter bells are a repetition sermon to me. But, O my God, my God, do I that have this fever need other remembrances of my mortality? Is not mine own hollow voice, voice enough to pronounce that to me? Need I look upon a death's head in a ring, that have one in my face? or go for death to my neighbour's house, that have him in my bosom? We cannot, we cannot, O my God, take in too many helps for religious duties; I know I cannot have any better image of thee than thy Son, nor any better image of him than his Gospel; yet must not I with thanks confess to thee, that some historical pictures of his have sometimes put me upon better meditations than otherwise I should have fallen upon? I know thy church needed not to have taken in, from Jew, or Gentile, any supplies for the exaltation of thy glory, or our devotion; of absolute necessity I know she needed not; but yet we owe thee our thanks, that thou hast given her leave to do so, and that as, in making us Christians, thou didst not destroy that which we were before, natural men, so, in the exalting of our religious devotions now we are Christians, thou hast been pleased to continue to us those assistances which did work upon the affections of natural men before; for thou lovest a good man as thou lovest a good Christian; and though grace be merely from me, yet thou dost not plant grace but in good natures.

Xvi. Prayer

XVI. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who having consecrated our living bodies to thine own Spirit, and made us temples of the Holy Ghost, dost also require a respect to be given to these temples, even when the priest is gone out of them, to these bodies when the soul is departed from them, I bless and glorify thy name, that as thou takest care in our life of every hair of our head, so dost thou also of every grain of ashes after our death. Neither dost thou only do good to us all in life and death, but also wouldst have us do good to one another, as in a holy life, so in those things which accompany our death. In that contemplation I make account that I hear this dead brother of ours, who is now carried out to his burial, to speak to me, and to preach my funeral sermon in the voice of these bells. In him, O God, thou hast accomplished to me even the request of Dives to Abraham; thou hast sent one from the dead to speak unto me. He speaks to me aloud from that steeple; he whispers to me at these curtains, and he speaks thy words: _Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth_.[240] Let this prayer therefore, O my God, be as my last gasp, my expiring, my dying in thee; that if this be the hour of my transmigration, I may die the death of a sinner, drowned in my sins, in the blood of thy Son; and if I live longer, yet I may now die the death of the righteous, die to sin; which death is a resurrection to a new life. _Thou killest and thou givest life_: whichsoever comes, it comes from thee; which way soever it comes, let me come to thee.

FOOTNOTES:

[234] Magius.

[235] Antwerp.

[236] Roan.

[237] Roccha.

[238] Numb. x. 2.

[239] Exod. xviii. 33-4.

Xvii. Nunc Lento Sonitu Dicunt, Morieris

XVII. NUNC LENTO SONITU DICUNT, MORIERIS.

_Now, this bell tolling softly for another, says to me: Thou must die._

Xvii. Meditation

XVII. MEDITATION.

Perchance he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is Catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that body which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention as far as a suit (in which both piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled), which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined, that they should ring first that rose earliest. If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his, whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world? No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee. Neither can we call this a begging of misery, or a borrowing of misery, as though we were not miserable enough of ourselves, but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbours. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did, for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it, and made fit for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current money, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels, as gold in a mine, and be of no use to him; but this bell, that tells me of his affliction, digs out and applies that gold to me: if by this consideration of another's danger I take mine own into contemplation, and so secure myself, by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security.

Xvii. Expostulation

XVII. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, is this one of thy ways of drawing light out of darkness, to make him for whom this bell tolls, now in this dimness of his sight, to become a superintendent, an overseer, a bishop, to as many as hear his voice in this bell, and to give us a confirmation in this action? Is this one of thy ways, to raise strength out of weakness, to make him who cannot rise from his bed, nor stir in his bed, come home to me, and in this sound give me the strength of healthy and vigorous instructions? O my God, my God, what thunder is not a well-tuned cymbal, what hoarseness, what harshness, is not a clear organ, if thou be pleased to set thy voice to it? And what organ is not well played on if thy hand be upon it? Thy voice, thy hand, is in this sound, and in this one sound I hear this whole concert. I hear thy Jacob call unto his sons and say, _Gather yourselves together, that I may tell you what shall befall you in the last days_:[241] he says, That which I am now, you must be then. I hear thy Moses telling me, and all within the compass of this sound, _This is the blessing wherewith I bless you before my death_;[242] this, that before your death, you would consider your own in mine. I hear thy prophet saying to Hezekiah, _Set thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live_:[243] he makes use of his family, and calls this a setting of his house in order, to compose us to the meditation of death. I hear thy apostle saying, _I think it meet to put you in remembrance, knowing that shortly I must go out of this tabernacle_:[244] this is the publishing of his will, and this bell is our legacy, the applying of his present condition to our use. I hear that which makes all sounds music, and all music perfect; I hear thy Son himself saying, _Let not your hearts be troubled_;[245] only I hear this change, that whereas thy Son says there, _I go to prepare a place for you_, this man in this sound says, I send to prepare you for a place, for a grave. But, O my God, my God, since heaven is glory and joy, why do not glorious and joyful things lead us, induce us to heaven? Thy legacies in thy first will, in the Old Testament, were plenty and victory, wine and oil, milk and honey, alliances of friends, ruin of enemies, peaceful hearts and cheerful countenances, and by these galleries thou broughtest them into thy bedchamber, by these glories and joys, to the joys and glories of heaven. Why hast thou changed thine old way, and carried us by the ways of discipline and mortification, by the ways of mourning and lamentation, by the ways of miserable ends and miserable anticipations of those miseries, in appropriating the exemplar miseries of others to ourselves, and usurping upon their miseries as our own, to our prejudice? Is the glory of heaven no perfecter in itself, but that it needs a foil of depression and ingloriousness in this world, to set it off? Is the joy of heaven no perfecter in itself, but that it needs the sourness of this life to give it a taste? Is that joy and that glory but a comparative glory and a comparative joy? not such in itself, but such in comparison of the joylessness and the ingloriousness of this world? I know, my God, it is far, far otherwise. As thou thyself, who art all, art made of no substances, so the joys and glory which are with thee are made of none of these circumstances, essential joy, and glory essential. But why then, my God, wilt thou not begin them here? Pardon, O God, this unthankful rashness; I that ask why thou dost not, find even now in myself, that thou dost; such joy, such glory, as that I conclude upon myself, upon all, they that find not joys in their sorrows, glory in their dejections in this world, are in a fearful danger of missing both in the next.

Xvii. Prayer

XVII. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who hast been pleased to speak to us, not only in the voice of nature, who speaks in our hearts, and of thy word, which speaks to our ears, but in the speech of speechless creatures, in Balaam's ass, in the speech of unbelieving men, in the confession of Pilate, in the speech of the devil himself, in the recognition and attestation of thy Son, I humbly accept thy voice in the sound of this sad and funeral bell. And first, I bless thy glorious name, that in this sound and voice I can hear thy instructions, in another man's to consider mine own condition; and to know, that this bell which tolls for another, before it come to ring out, may take me in too. As death is the wages of sin it is due to me; as death is the end of sickness it belongs to me; and though so disobedient a servant as I may be afraid to die, yet to so merciful a master as thou I cannot be afraid to come; and therefore into thy hands, O my God, I commend my spirit, a surrender which I know thou wilt accept, whether I live or die; for thy servant David made it,[246] when he put himself into thy protection for his life; and thy blessed Son made it, when he delivered up his soul at his death: declare thou thy will upon me, O Lord, for life or death in thy time; receive my surrender of myself now; into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit. And being thus, O my God, prepared by thy correction, mellowed by thy chastisement, and conformed to thy will by thy Spirit, having received thy pardon for my soul, and asking no reprieve for my body, I am bold, O Lord, to bend my prayers to thee for his assistance, the voice of whose bell hath called me to this devotion. Lay hold upon his soul, O God, till that soul have thoroughly considered his account; and how few minutes soever it have to remain in that body, let the power of thy Spirit recompense the shortness of time, and perfect his account before he pass away; present his sins so to him, as that he may know what thou forgivest, and not doubt of thy forgiveness, let him stop upon the infiniteness of those sins, but dwell upon the infiniteness of thy mercy; let him discern his own demerits, but wrap himself up in the merits of thy Son Christ Jesus; breathe inward comforts to his heart, and afford him the power of giving such outward testimonies thereof, as all that are about him may derive comforts from thence, and have this edification, even in this dissolution, that though the body be going the way of all flesh, yet that soul is going the way of all saints. When thy Son cried out upon the cross, _My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?_ he spake not so much in his own person, as in the person of the church, and of his afflicted members, who in deep distresses might fear thy forsaking. This patient, O most blessed God, is one of them; in his behalf, and in his name, hear thy Son crying to thee, _My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?_ and forsake him not; but with thy left hand lay his body in the grave (if that be thy determination upon him), and with thy right hand receive his soul into thy kingdom, and unite him and us in one communion of saints. Amen.

FOOTNOTES:

[240] Rev. xiv. 13.

[241] Gen. xlix. 1.

[242] Deut. xxxiii. 1.

[243] 2 Kings, xx. 1.

[244] 2 Pet. i. 13.

[245] John, xiv. 1.

[246] Psalm xxxi. 5.

Xviii. ------------------------ At Inde Mortuus Es, Sonitu Celeri, Pulsuque Agitato

XVIII. ------------------------ AT INDE MORTUUS ES, SONITU CELERI, PULSUQUE AGITATO.

_The bell rings out, and tells me in him, that I am dead._

Xviii. Meditation

XVIII. MEDITATION.

The bell rings out, the pulse thereof is changed; the tolling was a faint and intermitting pulse, upon one side; this stronger, and argues more and better life. His soul is gone out, and as a man who had a lease of one thousand years after the expiration of a short one, or an inheritance after the life of a man in a consumption, he is now entered into the possession of his better estate. His soul is gone, whither? Who saw it come in, or who saw it go out? Nobody; yet everybody is sure he had one, and hath none. If I will ask mere philosophers what the soul is, I shall find amongst them that will tell me, it is nothing but the temperament and harmony, and just and equal composition of the elements in the body, which produces all those faculties which we ascribe to the soul; and so in itself is nothing, no separable substance that overlives the body. They see the soul is nothing else in other creatures, and they affect an impious humility to think as low of man. But if my soul were no more than the soul of a beast, I could not think so; that soul that can reflect upon itself, consider itself, is more than so. If I will ask, not mere philosophers, but mixed men, philosophical divines, how the soul, being a separate substance, enters into man, I shall find some that will tell me, that it is by generation and procreation from parents, because they think it hard to charge the soul with the guiltiness of original sin if the soul were infused into a body in which it must necessarily grow foul, and contract original sin whether it will or no; and I shall find some that will tell me, that it is by immediate infusion from God, because they think it hard to maintain an immortality in such a soul, as should be begotten and derived with the body from mortal parents. If I will ask, not a few men, but almost whole bodies, whole churches, what becomes of the souls of the righteous at the departing thereof from the body, I shall be told by some, that they attend an expiation, a purification in a place of torment; by some, that they attend the fruition of the sight of God in a place of rest, but yet but of expectation; by some, that they pass to an immediate possession of the presence of God. St. Augustine studied the nature of the soul as much as any thing, but the salvation of the soul; and he sent an express messenger to St. Hierome, to consult of some things concerning the soul; but he satisfies himself with this: "Let the departure of my soul to salvation be evident to my faith, and I care the less how dark the entrance of my soul into my body be to my reason." It is the going out, more than the coming in, that concerns us. This soul this bell tells me is gone out, whither? Who shall tell me that? I know not who it is, much less what he was, the condition of the man, and the course of his life, which should tell me whither he is gone, I know not. I was not there in his sickness, nor at his death; I saw not his way nor his end, nor can ask them who did, thereby to conclude or argue whither he is gone. But yet I have one nearer me than all these, mine own charity; I ask that, and that tells me he is gone to everlasting rest, and joy, and glory. I owe him a good opinion; it is but thankful charity in me, because I received benefit and instruction from him when his bell tolled; and I, being made the fitter to pray by that disposition, wherein I was assisted by his occasion, did pray for him; and I pray not without faith; so I do charitably, so I do faithfully believe, that that soul is gone to everlasting rest, and joy, and glory. But for the body, how poor a wretched thing is that? we cannot express it so fast, as it grows worse and worse. That body, which scarce three minutes since was such a house, as that that soul, which made but one step from thence to heaven, was scarce thoroughly content to leave that for heaven; that body hath lost the name of a dwelling-house, because none dwells in it, and is making haste to lose the name of a body, and dissolve to putrefaction. Who would not be affected to see a clear and sweet river in the morning, grow a kennel of muddy land-water by noon, and condemned to the saltness of the sea by night? and how lame a picture, how faint a representation is that, of the precipitation of man's body to dissolution? Now all the parts built up, and knit by a lovely soul, now but a statue of clay, and now these limbs melted off, as if that clay were but snow; and now the whole house is but a handful of sand, so much dust, and but a peck of rubbish, so much bone. If he who, as this bell tells me, is gone now, were some excellent artificer, who comes to him for a cloak or for a garment now? or for counsel, if he were a lawyer? if a magistrate, for justice? Man, before he hath his immortal soul, hath a soul of sense, and a soul of vegetation before that: this immortal soul did not forbid other souls to be in us before, but when this soul departs, it carries all with it; no more vegetation, no more sense. Such a mother-in-law is the earth, in respect of our natural mother; in her womb we grew, and when she was delivered of us, we were planted in some place, in some calling in the world; in the womb of the earth we diminish, and when she is delivered of us, our grave opened for another; we are not transplanted, but transported, our dust blown away with profane dust, with every wind.

Xviii. Expostulation

XVIII. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, if expostulation be too bold a word, do thou mollify it with another; let it be wonder in myself, let it be but problem to others; but let me ask, why wouldst thou not suffer those that serve thee in holy services, to do any office about the dead,[247] nor assist at their funeral? Thou hadst no counsellor, thou needst none; thou hast no controller, thou admittedst none. Why do I ask? In ceremonial things (as that was) any convenient reason is enough; who can be sure to propose that reason, that moved thee in the institution thereof? I satisfy myself with this; that in those times the Gentiles were over-full of an over-reverent respect to the memory of the dead: a great part of the idolatry of the nations flowed from that; an over-amorous devotion, an over-zealous celebrating, and over-studious preserving of the memories, and the pictures of some dead persons; and by _the vain glory of men, they entered into the world_,[248] and their statues and pictures contracted an opinion of divinity by age: that which was at first but a picture of a friend grew a god in time, as the wise man notes, _They called them gods, which were the work of an ancient hand_.[249] And some have assigned a certain time, when a picture should come out of minority, and be at age to be a god in sixty years after it is made. Those images of men that had life, and some idols of other things which never had any being, are by one common name called promiscuously dead; and for that the wise man reprehends the idolater, _for health he prays to that which is weak, and for life he prays to that which is dead_.[250] Should we do so? says thy prophet;[251] _should we go from the living to the dead?_ So much ill then being occasioned by so much religious compliment exhibited to the dead, thou, O God (I think), wouldst therefore inhibit thy principal holy servants from contributing any thing at all to this dangerous intimation of idolatry; and that the people might say, Surely those dead men are not so much to be magnified as men mistake, since God will not suffer his holy officers so much as to touch them, not to see them. But those dangers being removed, thou, O my God, dost certainly allow that we should do offices of piety to the dead and that we should draw instructions to piety from the dead. Is not this, O my God, a holy kind of raising up seed to my dead brother, if I, by the meditation of his death produce a better life in myself? It is the blessing upon Reuben, _Let Reuben live, and not die, and let not his men be few_;[252] let him propagate many. And it is a malediction, _That that dieth, let it die_,[253] let it do no good in dying; for _trees without fruit_, thou, by thy apostle, callest _twice dead_.[254] It is a second death, if none live the better by me after my death, by the manner of my death. Therefore may I justly think, that thou madest that a way to convey to the Egyptians a fear of thee and a fear of death, that _there was not a house where there was not one dead_;[255] for thereupon the Egyptians said, _We are all dead men_: the death of others should catechise us to death. Thy Son Christ Jesus is the _first begotten of the dead_;[256] he rises first, the eldest brother, and he is my master in this science of death; but yet, for me, I am a younger brother too, to this man who died now, and to every man whom I see or hear to die before me, and all they are ushers to me in this school of death. I take therefore that which thy servant David's wife said to him, to be said to me, _If thou save not thy life to-night, to-morrow thou shalt be slain_.[257] If the death of this man work not upon me now, I shall die worse than if thou hadst not afforded me this help; for thou hast sent him in this bell to me, as thou didst send to the angel of Sardis, with commission to _strengthen the things that remain, and that are ready to die_,[258] that in this weakness of body I might receive spiritual strength by these occasions. This is my strength, that whether thou say to me, as thine angel said to Gideon, _Peace be unto thee, fear not, thou shalt not die_;[259] or whether thou say, as unto Aaron, _Thou shalt die there_;[260] yet thou wilt preserve that which is ready to die, my soul, from the worst death, that of sin. Zimri _died for his sins_, says thy Spirit, _which he sinned in doing evil; and in his sin which he did to make Israel sin_;[261] for his sins, his many sins, and then in his sin, his particular sin. For my sins I shall die whensoever I die, for death is the wages of sin; but I shall die in my sin, in that particular sin of resisting thy Spirit, if I apply not thy assistances. Doth it not call us to a particular consideration that thy blessed Son varies his form of commination, and aggravates it in the variation, when he says to the Jews (because they refused the light offered), _You shall die in your sin_:[262] and then when they proceeded to farther disputations, and vexations, and temptations, he adds, _You shall die in your sins_;[263] he multiplies the former expression to a plural. In this sin, and in all your sins, doth not the resisting of thy particular helps at last draw upon us the guiltiness of all our former sins? May not the neglecting of this sound ministered to me in this man's death, bring me to that misery, so that I, whom the Lord of life loved so as to die for me, shall die, and a creature of mine own shall be immortal; that I shall die, and the _worm_ of mine own conscience _shall never die_?[264]

Xviii. Prayer

XVIII. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, I have a new occasion of thanks, and a new occasion of prayer to thee from the ringing of this bell. Thou toldest me in the other voice that I was mortal and approaching to death; in this I may hear thee say that I am dead in an irremediable, in an irrecoverable state for bodily health. If that be thy language in this voice, how infinitely am I bound to thy heavenly Majesty for speaking so plainly unto me? for even that voice, that I must die now, is not the voice of a judge that speaks by way of condemnation, but of a physician that presents health in that. Thou presentest me death as the cure of my disease, not as the exaltation of it; if I mistake thy voice herein, if I overrun thy pace, and prevent thy hand, and imagine death more instant upon me than thou hast bid him be, yet the voice belongs to me; I am dead, I was born dead, and from the first laying of these mud walls in my conception, they have mouldered away, and the whole course of life is but an active death. Whether this voice instruct me that I am a dead man now, or remember me that I have been a dead man all this while. I humbly thank thee for speaking in this voice to my soul; and I humbly beseech thee also to accept my prayers in his behalf, by whose occasion this voice, this sound, is come to me. For though he be by death transplanted to thee, and so in possession of inexpressible happiness there, yet here upon earth thou hast given us such a portion of heaven, as that though men dispute whether thy saints in heaven do know what we in earth in particular do stand in need of, yet, without all disputation, we upon earth do know what thy saints in heaven lack yet for the consummation of their happiness, and therefore thou hast afforded us the dignity that we may pray for them. That therefore this soul, now newly departed to thy kingdom, may quickly return to a joyful reunion to that body which it hath left, and that we with it may soon enjoy the full consummation of all in body and soul, I humbly beg at thy hand, O our most merciful God, for thy Son Christ Jesus' sake. That that blessed Son of thine may have the consummation of his dignity, by entering into his last office, the office of a judge, and may have society of human bodies in heaven, as well as he hath had ever of souls; and that as thou hatest sin itself, thy hate to sin may be expressed in the abolishing of all instruments of sin, the allurements of this world, and the world itself; and all the temporary revenges of sin, the stings of sickness and of death; and all the castles, and prisons, and monuments of sin, in the grave. That time may be swallowed up in eternity, and hope swallowed in possession, and ends swallowed in infiniteness, and all men ordained to salvation in body and soul be one entire and everlasting sacrifice to thee, where thou mayst receive delight from them, and they glory from thee, for evermore. Amen.

FOOTNOTES:

[247] Levit. xxi. 1.

[248] Wisd. xiv. 14.

[249] Wisd. xiii. 10.

[250] Wisd. xiii. 18.

[251] Isaiah, viii. 19.

[252] Deut. xxxiii. 6.

[253] Zech. xi. 9.

[254] Jude, 12.

[255] Exod. xii. 30.

[256] Rev. i. 5.

[257] 1 Sam. xix. 11.

[258] Rev. iii. 2.

[259] Judg. vi, 23.

[260] Numb. xx. 26.

[261] 1 Kings, xvi. 19.

[262] John, viii. 21.

[263] John, viii. 24.

[264] Isaiah, lxvi. 24.

XIX. OCEANO TANDEM EMENSO, ASPICIENDA RESURGIT TERRA; VIDENT, JUSTIS,

Medici, Jam Cocta Mederi Se Posse, Indiciis

MEDICI, JAM COCTA MEDERI SE POSSE, INDICIIS.

_At last the physicians, after a long and stormy voyage, see land: they have so good signs of the concoction of the disease, as that they may safely proceed to purge._

Xix. Meditation

XIX. MEDITATION.

All this while the physicians themselves have been patients, patiently attending when they should see any land in this sea, any earth, any cloud, any indication of concoction in these waters. Any disorder of mine, any pretermission of theirs, exalts the disease, accelerates the rages of it; no diligence accelerates the concoction, the maturity of the disease; they must stay till the season of the sickness come; and till it be ripened of itself, and then they may put to their hand to gather it before it fall off, but they cannot hasten the ripening. Why should we look for it in a disease, which is the disorder, the discord, the irregularity, the commotion and rebellion of the body? It were scarce a disease if it could be ordered and made obedient to our times. Why should we look for that in disorder, in a disease, when we cannot have it in nature, who is so regular and so pregnant, so forward to bring her work to perfection and to light? Yet we cannot awake the July flowers in January, nor retard the flowers of the spring to autumn. We cannot bid the fruits come in May, nor the leaves to stick on in December. A woman that is weak cannot put off her ninth month to a tenth for her delivery, and say she will stay till she be stronger; nor a queen cannot hasten it to a seventh, that she may be ready for some other pleasure. Nature (if we look for durable and vigorous effects) will not admit preventions, nor anticipations, nor obligations upon her, for they are precontracts, and she will be left to her liberty. Nature would not be spurred, nor forced to mend her pace; nor power, the power of man, greatness, loves not that kind of violence neither. There are of them that will give, that will do justice, that will pardon, but they have their own seasons for all these, and he that knows not them shall starve before that gift come, and ruin before the justice, and die before the pardon save him. Some tree bears no fruit, except much dung be laid about it; and justice comes not from some till they be richly manured: some trees require much visiting, much watering, much labour; and some men give not their fruits but upon importunity: some trees require incision, and pruning, and lopping; some men must be intimidated and syndicated with commissions, before they will deliver the fruits of justice: some trees require the early and the often access of the sun; some men open not, but upon the favours and letters of court mediation: some trees must be housed and kept within doors; some men lock up, not only their liberality, but their justice and their compassion, till the solicitation of a wife, or a son, or a friend, or a servant, turn the key. Reward is the season of one man, and importunity of another; fear the season of one man, and favour of another; friendship the season of one man, and natural affection of another; and he that knows not their seasons, nor cannot stay them, must lose the fruits: as nature will not, so power and greatness will not be put to change their seasons, and shall we look for this indulgence in a disease, or think to shake it off before it be ripe? All this while, therefore, we are but upon a defensive war, and that is but a doubtful state; especially where they who are besieged do know the best of their defences, and do not know the worst of their enemy's power; when they cannot mend their works within, and the enemy can increase his numbers without. O how many far more miserable, and far more worthy to be less miserable than I, are besieged with this sickness, and lack their sentinels, their physicians to watch, and lack their munition, their cordials to defend, and perish before the enemy's weakness might invite them to sally, before the disease show any declination, or admit any way of working upon itself? In me the siege is so far slackened, as that we may come to fight, and so die in the field, if I die, and not in a prison.

Xix. Expostulation

XIX. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, thou art a direct God, may I not say a literal God, a God that wouldst be understood literally and according to the plain sense of all that thou sayest? but thou art also (Lord, I intend it to thy glory, and let no profane misinterpreter abuse it to thy diminution), thou art a figurative, a metaphorical God too; a God in whose words there is such a height of figures, such voyages, such peregrinations to fetch remote and precious metaphors, such extensions, such spreadings, such curtains of allegories, such third heavens of hyperboles, so harmonious elocutions, so retired and so reserved expressions, so commanding persuasions, so persuading commandments, such sinews even in thy milk, and such things in thy words, as all profane authors seem of the seed of the serpent that creeps, thou art the Dove that flies. O, what words but thine can express the inexpressible texture and composition of thy word, in which to one man that argument that binds his faith to believe that to be the word of God, is the reverent simplicity of the word, and to another the majesty of the word; and in which two men equally pious may meet, and one wonder that all should not understand it, and the other as much that any man should. So, Lord, thou givest us the same earth to labour on and to lie in, a house and a grave of the same earth; so, Lord, thou givest us the same word for our satisfaction and for our inquisition, for our instruction and for our admiration too; for there are places that thy servants Hierom and Augustine would scarce believe (when they grew warm by mutual letters) of one another, that they understood them, and yet both Hierom and Augustine call upon persons whom they knew to be far weaker than they thought one another (old women and young maids) to read the Scriptures, without confining them to these or those places. Neither art thou thus a figurative, a metaphorical God in thy word only, but in thy works too. The style of thy works, the phrase of thine actions, is metaphorical The institution of thy whole worship in the old law was a continual allegory; types and figures overspread all, and figures flowed into figures, and poured themselves out into farther figures; circumcision carried a figure of baptism, and baptism carries a figure of that purity which we shall have in perfection in the new Jerusalem. Neither didst thou speak and work in this language only in the time of thy prophets; but since thou spokest in thy Son it is so too. How often, how much more often, doth thy Son call himself a way, and a light, and a gate, and a vine, and bread, than the Son of God, or of man? How much oftener doth he exhibit a metaphorical Christ, than a real, a literal? This hath occasioned thine ancient servants, whose delight it was to write after thy copy, to proceed the same way in their expositions of the Scriptures, and in their composing both of public liturgies and of private prayers to thee, to make their accesses to thee in such a kind of language as thou wast pleased to speak to them, in a figurative, in a metaphorical language, in which manner I am bold to call the comfort which I receive now in this sickness in the indication of the concoction and maturity thereof, in certain clouds and recidences, which the physicians observe, a discovering of land from sea after a long and tempestuous voyage. But wherefore, O my God, hast thou presented to us the afflictions and calamities of this life in the name of waters? so often in the name of waters, and deep waters, and seas of waters? Must we look to be drowned? are they bottomless, are they boundless? That is not the dialect of thy language; thou hast given a remedy against the deepest water by water; against the inundation of sin by baptism; and the first life that thou gavest to any creatures was in waters: therefore thou dost not threaten us with an irremediableness when our affliction is a sea. It is so if we consider ourselves; so thou callest Genezareth, which was but a lake, and not salt, a sea; so thou callest the Mediterranean sea still the great sea, because the inhabitants saw no other sea; they that dwelt there thought a lake a sea, and the others thought a little sea, the greatest, and we that know not the afflictions of others call our own the heaviest. But, O my God, that is truly great that overflows the channel, that is really a great affliction which is above my strength; but thou, O God, art my strength, and then what can be above it? _Mountains shake with the swelling of thy sea_;[265] secular mountains, men strong in power; spiritual mountains, men strong in grace, are shaken with afflictions; but _thou layest up thy sea in storehouses_;[266] even thy corrections are of thy treasure, and thou wilt not waste thy corrections; when they have done their service to humble thy patient, thou wilt call them in again, for _thou givest the sea thy decree, that the waters should not pass thy commandment_.[267] All our waters shall run into Jordan, and thy servants passed Jordan dry foot;[268] they shall run into the red sea (the sea of thy Son's blood), and the red sea, that red sea, drowns none of thine: but _they that sail on the sea tell of the danger thereof_.[269] I that am yet in this affliction, owe thee the glory of speaking of it; but, as the wise man bids me, I say, I _may speak much and come short, wherefore in sum thou art all_.[270] Since thou art so, O my God, and affliction is a sea too deep for us, what is our refuge? Thine ark, thy ship. In all other afflictions, those means which thou hast ordained in this sea, in sickness, thy ship is thy physician. _Thou hast made a way in the sea, and a safe path in the waters, showing that thou canst save from all dangers, yea, though a man went to sea without art_:[271] yet, where I find all that, I find this added; _nevertheless thou wouldst not, that the work of thy wisdom should be idle_.[272] Thou canst save without means, but thou hast told no man that thou wilt; thou hast told every man that thou wilt not.[273] When the centurion believed the master of the ship more than St. Paul, they were all opened to a great danger; this was a preferring of thy means before thee, the author of the means: but, my God, though thou beest every where: I have no promise of appearing to me but in thy ship, thy blessed Son preached out of a ship:[274] the means is preaching, he did that; and the ship was a type of the church, he did it there. Thou gavest St. Paul the lives of all them that sailed with him;[275] if they had not been in the ship with him, the gift had not extended to them. _As soon as thy Son was come out of the ship, immediately there met him, out of the tombs, a man with an unclean spirit, and no man could hold him, no not with chains._[276] Thy Son needed no use of means; yet there we apprehend the danger to us, if we leave the ship, the means, in this case the physician. But as they are ships to us in those seas, so is there a ship to them too in which they are to stay. Give me leave, O my God, to assist myself with such a construction of these words of thy servant Paul to the centurion, when the mariners would have left the ship, _Except these abide in the ship, you cannot be safe_:[277] except they who are our ships, the physicians, abide in that which is theirs, and our ship, the truth, and the sincere and religious worship of thee and thy gospel, we cannot promise ourselves so good safety; for though we have our ship, the physician, he hath not his ship, religion; and means are not means but in their concatenation, as they depend and are chained together. _The ships are great_, says thy apostle, _but a helm turns them_;[278] the men are learned, but their religion turns their labours to good, and therefore it was a heavy curse when _the third part of the ships perished_:[279] it is a heavy case where either all religion, or true religion, should forsake many of these ships whom thou hast sent to convey us over these seas. But, O my God, my God, since I have my ship and they theirs, I have them and they have thee, why are we yet no nearer land? As soon as thy Son's disciple had taken him into the ship, _immediately the ship was at the land whither they went_.[280] Why have not they and I this dispatch? Every thing is immediately done, which is done when thou wouldst have it done. Thy purpose terminates every action, and what was done before that is undone yet. Shall that slacken my hope? thy prophet from thee hath forbidden it. _It is good that a man should both hope, and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord._[281] Thou puttest off many judgments till the last day, and many pass this life without any; and shall not I endure the putting off thy mercy for a day? And yet, O my God, thou puttest me not to that, for the assurance of future mercy is present mercy. But what is my assurance now? what is my seal? It is but a cloud; that which my physicians call a cloud, in that which gives them their indication. But a cloud? Thy great seal to all the world, the rainbow, that secured the world for ever from drowning, was but a reflection upon a cloud. A cloud itself was a pillar which guided the church,[282] and the glory of God not only was, but appeared in a cloud.[283] Let me return, O my God, to the consideration of thy servant Elijah's proceeding in a time of desperate drought;[284] he bids them look towards the sea; they look, and see nothing. He bids them again and again seven times; and at the seventh time they saw a little cloud rising out of the sea, and presently they had their desire of rain. Seven days, O my God, have we looked for this cloud, and now we have it; none of thy indications are frivolous, thou makest thy signs seals, and thy seals effects, and thy effects consolation and restitution, wheresoever thou mayst receive glory by that way.

Xix. Prayer

XIX. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who though thou passedst over infinite millions of generations, before thou camest to a creation of this world, yet when thou beganst, didst never intermit that work, but continuedst day to day, till thou hadst perfected all the work, and deposed it in the hands and rest of a sabbath, though thou have been pleased to glorify thyself in a long exercise of my patience, with an expectation of thy declaration of thyself in this my sickness, yet since thou hast now of thy goodness afforded that which affords us some hope, if that be still the way of thy glory, proceed in that way and perfect that work, and establish me in a sabbath and rest in thee, by this thy seal of bodily restitution. Thy priests came up to thee by steps in the temple; thy angels came down to Jacob by steps upon the ladder; we find no stair by which thou thyself camest to Adam in paradise, nor to Sodom in thine anger; for thou, and thou only, art able to do all at once. But O Lord, I am not weary of thy pace, nor weary of mine own patience. I provoke thee not with a prayer, not with a wish, not with a hope, to more haste than consists with thy purpose, nor look that any other thing should have entered into thy purpose, but thy glory. To hear thy steps coming towards me is the same comfort as to see thy face present with me; whether thou do the work of a thousand years in a day, or extend the work of a day to a thousand years, as long as thou workest, it is light and comfort. Heaven itself is but an extension of the same joy; and an extension of this mercy, to proceed at thy leisure, in the way of restitution, is a manifestation of heaven to me here upon earth. From that people to whom thou appearedst in signs and in types, the Jews, thou art departed, because they trusted in them; but from thy church, to whom thou hast appeared in thyself, in thy Son, thou wilt never depart, because we cannot trust too much in him. Though thou have afforded me these signs of restitution, yet if I confide in them, and begin to say, all was but a natural accident, and nature begins to discharge herself, and she will perfect the whole work, my hope shall vanish because it is not in thee. If thou shouldst take thy hand utterly from me, and have nothing to do with me, nature alone were able to destroy me; but if thou withdraw thy helping hand, alas, how frivolous are the helps of nature, how impotent the assistances of art? As therefore the morning dew is a pawn of the evening fatness, so, O Lord, let this day's comfort be the earnest of to-morrow's, so far as may conform me entirely to thee, to what end, and by what way soever thy mercy have appointed me.

FOOTNOTES:

[265] Psalm xlvi. 3.

[266] Psalm xxxiii. 7.

[267] Prov. viii. 29.

[268] Josh. iii. 17.

[269] Ecclus. xliii. 24.

[270] Ecclus. xliii. 27.

[271] Wisd. xiv. 3.

[272] Wisd. xiv. 5.

[273] Acts, xxvii. 11.

[274] Luke, v. 3.

[275] Acts, xxvii. 24.

[276] Mark, v. 2.

[277] Acts, xxvii. 31.

[278] James, iii. 4.

[279] Rev. viii. 9.

[280] John, vi. 21.

[281] Lam. iii. 26.

[282] Exod. xiii. 21.

[283] Exod. xvi. 10.

[284] 1 Kings, xviii. 43.

Xx. Id Agunt

XX. ID AGUNT.

_Upon these indications of digested matter, they proceed to purge._

Xx. Meditation

XX. MEDITATION.

Though counsel seem rather to consist of spiritual parts than action, yet action is the spirit and the soul of counsel. Counsels are not always determined in resolutions, we cannot always say, this was concluded; actions are always determined in effects, we can say, this was done. Then have laws their reverence and their majesty, when we see the judge upon the bench executing them. Then have counsels of war their impressions and their operations, when we see the seal of an army set to them. It was an ancient way of celebrating the memory of such as deserved well of the state, to afford them that kind of statuary representation, which was then called Hermes, which was the head and shoulders of a man standing upon a cube, but those shoulders without arms and hands. Altogether it figured a constant supporter of the state, by his counsel; but in this hieroglyphic, which they made without hands, they pass their consideration no farther but that the counsellor should be without hands, so far as not to reach out his hand to foreign temptations of bribes, in matters of counsel, and that it was not necessary that the head should employ his own hand; that the same men should serve in the execution which assisted in the counsel; but that there should not belong hands to every head, action to every counsel, was never intended so much as in figure and representation. For as matrimony is scarce to be called matrimony where there is a resolution against the fruits of matrimony, against the having of children,[285] so counsels are not counsels, but illusions, where there is from the beginning no purpose to execute the determinations of those counsels. The arts and sciences are most properly referred to the head; that is their proper element and sphere; but yet the art of proving, logic, and the art of persuading, rhetoric, are deduced to the hand, and that expressed by a hand contracted into a fist, and this by a hand enlarged and expanded; and evermore the power of man, and the power of God, himself is expressed so. All things are in his hand; neither is God so often presented to us, by names that carry our consideration upon counsel, as upon execution of counsel; he oftener is called the Lord of Hosts than by all other names, that may be referred to the other signification. Hereby therefore we take into our meditation the slippery condition of man, whose happiness in any kind, the defect of any one thing conducing to that happiness, may ruin; but it must have all the pieces to make it up. Without counsel, I had not got thus far; without action and practice, I should go no farther towards health. But what is the present necessary action? Purging; a withdrawing, a violating of nature, a farther weakening. O dear price, and O strange way of addition, to do it by subtraction; of restoring nature, to violate nature; of providing strength, by increasing weakness. Was I not sick before? And is it a question of comfort to be asked now, did your physic make you sick? Was that it that my physic promised, to make me sick? This is another step upon which we may stand, and see farther into the misery of man, the time, the season of his misery; it must be done now. O over-cunning, over-watchful, over-diligent, and over-sociable misery of man, that seldom comes alone, but then when it may accompany other miseries, and so put one another into the higher exaltation, and better heart. I am ground even to an attenuation and must proceed to evacuation, all ways to exinanition and annihilation.

Xx. Expostulation

XX. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, the God of order, but yet not of ambition, who assignest place to every one, but not contention for place, when shall it be thy pleasure to put an end to all these quarrels for spiritual precedences? When shall men leave their uncharitable disputations, which is to take place, faith or repentance, and which, when we consider faith and works? The head and the hand too are required to a perfect natural man; counsel and action too, to a perfect civil man; faith and works too, to him that is perfectly spiritual. But because it is easily said, I believe, and because it doth not easily lie in proof, nor is easily demonstrable by any evidence taken from my heart (for who sees that, who searches those rolls?) whether I do believe or no, is it not therefore, O my God, that thou dost so frequently, so earnestly, refer us to the hand, to the observation of actions? There is a little suspicion, a little imputation laid upon over-tedious and dilatory counsels. Many good occasions slip away in long consultations; and it may be a degree of sloth, to be too long in mending nets, though that must be done. _He that observeth the wind shall not sow, and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap_;[286] that is, he that is too dilatory, too superstitious in these observations, and studies but the excuse of his own idleness in them; but that which the same wise and royal servant of thine says in another place, all accept, and ask no comment upon it, _He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand, but the hand of the diligent maketh rich_;[287] all evil imputed to the absence, all good attributed to the presence of the hand. I know, my God (and I bless thy name for knowing it, for all good knowledge is from thee), that thou considerest the heart; but thou takest not off thine eye till thou come to the hand. Nay, my God, doth not thy Spirit intimate that thou beginnest where we begin (at least, that thou allowest us to begin there), when thou orderest thine own answer to thine own question, _Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord_? thus, _He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart_?[288] Dost thou not (at least) send us first to the hand? And is not the work of their hands that declaration of their holy zeal, in the present execution of manifest idolators, called a consecration of themselves,[289] by thy Holy Spirit? Their hands are called all themselves; for even counsel itself goes under that name in thy word, who knowest best how to give right names: because the counsel of the priests assisted David,[290] Saul says the hand of the priest is with David. And that which is often said by Moses, is very often repeated by thy other prophets, _These and these things the Lord spake_,[291] and _the Lord said_, and _the Lord commanded_, not by the counsels, not by the voice, but by the _hand of Moses_, and by the _hand of the prophets_. Evermore we are referred for our evidence of others, and of ourselves, to the hand, to action, to works. There is something before it, believing; and there is something after it, suffering; but in the most eminent, and obvious, and conspicuous place stands doing. Why then, O my God, my blessed God, in the ways of my spiritual strength, come I so slow to action? I was whipped by thy rod, before I came to consultation, to consider my state; and shall I go no farther? As he that would describe a circle in paper, if he have brought that circle within one inch of finishing, yet if he remove his compass he cannot make it up a perfect circle except he fall to work again, to find out the same centre, so, though setting that foot of my compass upon thee, I have gone so far as to the consideration of myself, yet if I depart from thee, my centre, all is imperfect. This proceeding to action, therefore, is a returning to thee, and a working upon myself by thy physic, by thy purgative physic, a free and entire evacuation of my soul by confession. The working of purgative physic is violent and contrary to nature. O Lord, I decline not this potion of confession, however it may be contrary to a natural man. To take physic, and not according to the right method, is dangerous.[292] O Lord, I decline not that method in this physic, in things that burthen my conscience, to make my confession to him, into whose hands thou hast put the power of absolution. I know that "physic may be made so pleasant as that it may easily be taken; but not so pleasant as the virtue and nature of the medicine be extinguished."[293] I know I am not submitted to such a confession as is a rack and torture of the conscience; but I know I am not exempt from all. If it were merely problematical, left merely indifferent whether we should take this physic, use this confession, or no, a great physician acknowledges this to have been his practice, to minister to many things which he was not sure would do good, but never any other thing but such as he was sure would do no harm.[294] The use of this spiritual physic can certainly do no harm; and the church hath always thought that it might, and, doubtless, many humble souls have found, that it hath done them good. _I will therefore take the cup of salvation, and call upon thy name._[295] I will find this cup of compunction as full as I have formerly filled the cups of worldly confections, that so I may escape the cup of malediction and irrecoverable destruction that depends upon that. And since thy blessed and glorious Son, being offered, in the way to his execution, a cup of stupefaction,[296] to take away the sense of his pain (a charity afforded to condemned persons ordinarily in those places and times), refused that ease, and embraced the whole torment, I take not this cup, but this vessel of mine own sins into my contemplation, and I pour them out here according to the motions of thy Holy Spirit, and any where according to the ordinances of thy holy church.

Xx. Prayer

XX. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who having married man and woman together, and made them one flesh, wouldst have them also to become one soul, so as that they might maintain a sympathy in their affections, and have a conformity to one another in the accidents of this world, good or bad; so having married this soul and this body in me, I humbly beseech thee that my soul may look and make her use of thy merciful proceedings towards my bodily restitution, and go the same way to a spiritual. I am come, by thy goodness, to the use of thine ordinary means for my body, to wash away those peccant humours that endangered it. I have, O Lord, a river in my body, but a sea in my soul, and a sea swollen into the depth of a deluge, above the sea. Thou hast raised up certain hills in me heretofore, by which I might have stood safe from these inundations of sin. Even our natural faculties are a hill, and might preserve us from some sin. Education, study, observation, example, are hills too, and might preserve us from some. Thy church, and thy word, and thy sacraments, and thine ordinances are hills above these; thy spirit of remorse, and compunction, and repentance for former sin, are hills too; and to the top of all these hills thou hast brought me heretofore; but this deluge, this inundation, is got above all my hills; and I have sinned and sinned, and multiplied sin to sin, after all these thy assistances against sin, and where is there water enough to wash away this deluge? There is a red sea, greater than this ocean, and there is a little spring, through which this ocean may pour itself into that red sea. Let thy spirit of true contrition and sorrow pass all my sins, through these eyes, into the wounds of thy Son, and I shall be clean, and my soul so much better purged than my body, as it is ordained for better and a longer life.

FOOTNOTES:

[285] August.

[286] Eccles. xi. 4.

[287] Prov. x. 4.

[288] Psalm xxiv. 3.

[289] Exod. xxxii. 29.

[290] 1 Sam. xxii. 17.

[291] Lev. viii. 36.

[292] Galen.

[293] Galen.

[294] Galen.

[295] Psalm cxvi. 13.

[296] Mark, xv. 23.

Xxi. -------------- Atque Annuit Ille, Qui, Per Eos, Clamat, Linquas Jam, Lazare, Lectum

XXI. -------------- ATQUE ANNUIT ILLE, QUI, PER EOS, CLAMAT, LINQUAS JAM, LAZARE, LECTUM.

_God prospers their practice, and he, by them, calls Lazarus out of his tomb, me out of my bed._

Xxi. Meditation

XXI. MEDITATION.

If man had been left alone in this world at first, shall I think that he would not have fallen? If there had been no woman, would not man have served to have been his own tempter? When I see him now subject to infinite weaknesses, fall into infinite sin without any foreign temptations, shall I think he would have had none, if he had been alone? God saw that man needed a helper, if he should be well; but to make woman ill, the devil saw that there needed no third. When God and we were alone in Adam, that was not enough; when the devil and we were alone in Eve, it was enough. O what a giant is man when he fights against himself, and what a dwarf when he needs or exercises his own assistance for himself? I cannot rise out of my bed till the physician enable me, nay, I cannot tell that I am able to rise till he tell me so. I do nothing, I know nothing of myself; how little and how impotent a piece of the world is any man alone? And how much less a piece of himself is that man? So little as that when it falls out (as it falls out in some cases) that more misery and more oppression would be an ease to a man, he cannot give himself that miserable addition of more misery. A man that is pressed to death, and might be eased by more weights, cannot lay those more weights upon himself: he can sin alone, and suffer alone, but not repent, not be absolved, without another. Another tells me, I may rise; and I do so. But is every raising a preferment? or is every present preferment a station? I am readier to fall to the earth, now I am up, than I was when I lay in the bed. O perverse way, irregular motion of man; even rising itself is the way to ruin! How many men are raised, and then do not fill the place they are raised to? No corner of any place can be empty; there can be no vacuity. If that man do not fill the place, other men will; complaints of his insufficiency will fill it; nay, such an abhorring is there in nature of vacuity, that if there be but an imagination of not filling, in any man, that which is but imagination, neither will fill it, that is, rumour and voice, and it will be given out (upon no ground but imagination, and no man knows whose imagination), that he is corrupt in his place, or insufficient in his place, and another prepared to succeed him in his place. A man rises sometimes and stands not, because he doth not or is not believed to fill his place; and sometimes he stands not because he overfills his place. He may bring so much virtue, so much justice, so much integrity to the place, as shall spoil the place, burthen the place; his integrity may be a libel upon his predecessor and cast an infamy upon him, and a burthen upon his successor to proceed by example, and to bring the place itself to an undervalue and the market to an uncertainty. I am up, and I seem to stand, and I go round, and I am a new argument of the new philosophy, that the earth moves round; why may I not believe that the whole earth moves, in a round motion, though that seem to me to stand, when as I seem to stand to my company, and yet am carried in a giddy and circular motion as I stand? Man hath no centre but misery; there, and only there, he is fixed, and sure to find himself. How little soever he be raised, he moves, and moves in a circle giddily; and as in the heavens there are but a few circles that go about the whole world, but many epicycles, and other lesser circles, but yet circles; so of those men which are raised and put into circles, few of them move from place to place, and pass through many and beneficial places, but fall into little circles, and, within a step or two, are at their end, and not so well as they were in the centre, from which they were raised. Every thing serves to exemplify, to illustrate man's misery. But I need go no farther than myself: for a long time I was not able to rise; at last I must be raised by others; and now I am up, I am ready to sink lower than before.

Xxi. Expostulation

XXI. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, how large a glass of the next world is this! As we have an art, to cast from one glass to another, and so to carry the species a great way off, so hast thou, that way, much more; we shall have a resurrection in heaven; the knowledge of that thou castest by another glass upon us here; we feel that we have a resurrection from sin, and that by another glass too; we see we have a resurrection of the body from the miseries and calamities of this life. This resurrection of my body shows me the resurrection of my soul; and both here severally, of both together hereafter. Since thy martyrs under the altar press thee with their solicitation for the resurrection of the body to glory, thou wouldst pardon me, if I should press thee by prayer for the accomplishing of this resurrection, which thou hast begun in me, to health. But, O my God, I do not ask, where I might ask amiss, nor beg that which perchance might be worse for me. I have a bed of sin; delight in sin is a bed: I have a grave of sin; senselessness of sin is a grave: and where Lazarus had been four days, I have been fifty years in this putrefaction; why dost thou not call me, as thou didst him, _with a loud voice_,[297] since my soul is as dead as his body was? I need thy thunder, O my God; thy music will not serve me. Thou hast called thy servants, who are to work upon us in thine ordinance, by all these loud names--winds, and chariots, and falls of waters; where thou wouldst be heard, thou wilt be heard. When thy Son concurred with thee to the making of man, there it is but a speaking, but a saying. There, O blessed and glorious Trinity, was none to hear but you three, and you easily hear one another, because you say the same things. But when thy Son came to the work of redemption, thou spokest,[298] and they that heard it took it for thunder; and thy Son himself cried with a loud voice upon the cross twice,[299] as he who was to prepare his coming, John Baptist, was the voice of a crier, and not of a whisperer. Still, if it be thy voice, it is a loud voice. _These words_, says thy Moses, _thou spokest with a great voice, and thou addedst no more_,[300] says he there. That which thou hast said is evident, and it is evident that none can speak so loud; none can bind us to hear him, as we must thee. _The Most High uttered his voice._ What was his voice? _The Lord thundered from heaven_,[301] it might be heard; but this voice, thy voice, is also a _mighty voice_;[302] not only mighty in power, it may be heard, nor mighty in obligation, it should be heard; but mighty in operation, it will be heard; and therefore hast thou bestowed a whole psalm[303] upon us, to lead us to the consideration of thy voice. It is such a voice as that thy Son says, _the dead shall hear it_;[304] and that is my state. And why, O God, dost thou not speak to me, in that effectual loudness? Saint John heard a voice, and _he turned about to see the voice_:[305] sometimes we are too curious of the instrument by what man God speaks; but thou speakest loudest when thou speakest to the heart. _There was silence, and I heard a voice_, says one, to thy servant Job.[306] I hearken after thy voice in thine ordinances, and I seek not a whispering in conventicles; but yet, O my God, speak louder, that so, though I do hear thee now, then I may hear nothing but thee. My sins cry aloud; Cain's murder did so: my afflictions cry aloud; _the floods have lifted up their voice_ (and waters are afflictions), _but thou, O Lord, art mightier than the voice of many waters_;[307] than many temporal, many spiritual afflictions, than any of either kind: and why dost thou not speak to me in that voice? _What is man, and whereto serveth he? What is his good and what is his evil?_[308] My bed of sin is not evil, not desperately evil, for thou dost call me out of it; but my rising out of it is not good (not perfectly good), if thou call not louder, and hold me now I am up. O my God, I am afraid of a fearful application of those words, _When a man hath done, then he beginneth_;[309] when this body is unable to sin, his sinful memory sins over his old sins again; and that which thou wouldst have us to remember for compunction, we remember with delight. _Bring him to me in his bed, that I may kill him_,[310] says Saul of David: thou hast not said so, that is not thy voice. Joash's own servants slew him when he was sick in his bed:[311] thou hast not suffered that, that my servants should so much as neglect me, or be weary of me in my sickness. Thou threatenest, that _as a shepherd takes out of the mouth of the lion two legs, or a piece of an ear, so shall the children of Israel, that dwell in Samaria, in the corner of a bed, and in Damascus, in a couch, be taken away_;[312] and even they that are secure from danger shall perish. How much more might I, who was in the bed of death, die? But thou hast not so dealt with me. As they brought out sick persons in beds, that thy servant Peter's shadow might over-shadow them,[313] thou hast, O my God, over-shadowed me, refreshed me; but when wilt thou do more? When wilt thou do all? When wilt thou speak in thy loud voice? When wilt thou bid me _take up my bed and walk_?[314] As my bed is my affections, when shall I bear them so as to subdue them? As my bed is my afflictions, when shall I bear them so as not to murmur at them? When shall I take up my bed and walk? Not lie down upon it, as it is my pleasure, not sink under it, as it is my correction? But O my God, my God, the God of all flesh, and of all spirit, to let me be content with that in my fainting spirit, which thou declarest in this decayed flesh, that as this body is content to sit still, that it may learn to stand, and to learn by standing to walk, and by walking to travel, so my soul, by obeying this thy voice of rising, may by a farther and farther growth of thy grace proceed so, and be so established, as may remove all suspicions, all jealousies between thee and me, and may speak and hear in such a voice, as that still I may be acceptable to thee, and satisfied from thee.

Xxi. Prayer

XXI. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who hast made little things to signify great, and conveyed the infinite merits of thy Son in the water of baptism, and in the bread and wine of thy other sacrament, unto us, receive the sacrifice of my humble thanks, that thou hast not only afforded me the ability to rise out of this bed of weariness and discomfort, but hast also made this bodily rising, by thy grace, an earnest of a second resurrection from sin, and of a third, to everlasting glory. Thy Son himself, always infinite in himself, and incapable of addition, was yet pleased to grow in the Virgin's womb, and to grow in stature in the sight of men. Thy good purposes upon me, I know, have their determination and perfection in thy holy will upon me; there thy grace is, and there I am altogether; but manifest them so unto me, in thy seasons, and in thy measures and degrees, that I may not only have that comfort of knowing thee to be infinitely good, but that also of finding thee to be every day better and better to me; and that as thou gavest Saint Paul the messenger of Satan, to humble him so for my humiliation, thou mayst give me thyself in this knowledge, that what grace soever thou afford me to-day, yet I should perish to-morrow if I had not had to-morrow's grace too. Therefore I beg of thee my daily bread; and as thou gavest me the bread of sorrow for many days, and since the bread of hope for some, and this day the bread of possessing, in rising by that strength, which thou the God of all strength hast infused into me, so, O Lord, continue to me the bread of life: the spiritual bread of life, in a faithful assurance in thee; the sacramental bread of life, in a worthy receiving of thee; and the more real bread of life in an everlasting union to thee. I know, O Lord, that when thou hast created angels, and they saw thee produce fowl, and fish, and beasts, and worms, they did not importune thee, and say, Shall we have no better creatures than these, no better companions than these? but stayed thy leisure, and then had man delivered over to them, not much inferior in nature to themselves. No more do I, O God, now that by thy first mercy I am able to rise, importune thee for present confirmation of health; nor now, that by thy mercy I am brought to see that thy correction hath wrought medicinally upon me, presume I upon that spiritual strength I have; but as I acknowledge that my bodily strength is subject to every puff of wind, so is my spiritual strength to every blast of vanity. Keep me therefore still, O my gracious God, in such a proportion of both strengths, as I may still have something to thank thee for, which I have received, and still something to pray for and ask at thy hand.

FOOTNOTES:

[297] John, xi. 43.

[298] John, xii. 28.

[299] Matt. xxvii. 46, 50.

[300] Deut. v. 22.

[301] 2 Sam. xxii. 14.

[302] Psalm lxviii. 33.

[303] Psalm xxix.

[304] John, v. 25.

[305] Rev. i. 12.

[306] Job, iv. 16.

[307] Psalm xciii. 3, 4.

[308] Ecclus. xviii, 8.

[309] Ecclus. v. 7.

[310] 1 Sam. xix. 15.

[311] 2 Chron. xxiv. 25.

[312] Amos, iii. 12.

[313] Acts, v. 15.

[314] Matt. ix. 6.

Xxii. Sit Morbi Fomes Tibi Cura

XXII. SIT MORBI FOMES TIBI CURA.

_The physicians consider the root and occasion, the embers, and coals, and fuel of the disease, and seek to purge or correct that._

Xxii. Meditation

XXII. MEDITATION.

How ruinous a farm hath man taken, in taking himself! How ready is the house every day to fall down, and how is all the ground overspread with weeds, all the body with diseases; where not only every turf, but every stone bears weeds; not only every muscle of the flesh, but every bone of the body hath some infirmity; every little flint upon the face of this soil hath some infectious weed, every tooth in our head such a pain as a constant man is afraid of, and yet ashamed of that fear, of that sense of the pain. How dear, and how often a rent doth man pay for his farm! He pays twice a day, in double meals, and how little time he hath to raise his rent! How many holidays to call him from his labour! Every day is half holiday, half spent in sleep. What reparations, and subsidies, and contributions he is put to, besides his rent! What medicines besides his diet; and what inmates he is fain to take in, besides his own family; what infectious diseases from other men! Adam might have had Paradise for dressing and keeping it; and then his rent was not improved to such a labour as would have made his brow sweat; and yet he gave it over; how far greater a rent do we pay for this farm, this body, who pay ourselves, who pay the farm itself, and cannot live upon it! Neither is our labour at an end when we have cut down some weed as soon as it sprung up, corrected some violent and dangerous accident of a disease which would have destroyed speedily, nor when we have pulled up that weed from the very root, recovered entirely and soundly from that particular disease; but the whole ground is of an ill nature, the whole soil ill disposed; there are inclinations, there is a propenseness to diseases in the body, out of which, without any other disorder, diseases will grow, and so we are put to a continual labour upon this farm, to a continual study of the whole complexion and constitution of our body. In the distempers and diseases of soils, sourness, dryness, weeping, any kind of barrenness, the remedy and the physic is, for a great part, sometimes in themselves; sometimes the very situation relieves them; the hanger of a hill will purge and vent his own malignant moisture, and the burning of the upper turf of some ground (as health from cauterizing) puts a new and a vigorous youth into that soil, and there rises a kind of phoenix out of the ashes, a fruitfulness out of that which was barren before, and by that which is the barrenest of all, ashes. And where the ground cannot give itself physic, yet it receives physic from other grounds, from other soils, which are not the worse for having contributed that help to them from marl in other hills, or from slimy sand in other shores, grounds help themselves, or hurt not other grounds from whence they receive help. But I have taken a farm at this hard rent, and upon those heavy covenants, that it can afford itself no help (no part of my body, if it were cut off, would cure another part; in some cases it might preserve a sound part, but in no case recover an infected); and if my body may have had any physic, any medicine from another body, one man from the flesh of another man (as by mummy, or any such composition), it must be from a man that is dead, and not as in other soils, which are never the worse for contributing their marl or their fat slime to my ground. There is nothing in the same man to help man, nothing in mankind to help one another (in this sort, by way of physic), but that he who ministers the help is in as ill case as he that receives it would have been if he had not had it; for he from whose body the physic comes is dead. When therefore I took this farm, undertook this body, I undertook to drain not a marsh but a moat, where there was, not water mingled to offend, but all was water; I undertook to perfume dung, where no one part but all was equally unsavoury; I undertook to make such a thing wholesome, as was not poison by any manifest quality, intense heat or cold, but poison in the whole substance, and in the specific form of it. To cure the sharp accidents of diseases is a great work; to cure the disease itself is a greater; but to cure the body, the root, the occasion of diseases, is a work reserved for the great physician, which he doth never any other way but by glorifying these bodies in the next world.

Xxii. Expostulation

XXII. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, what am I put to when I am put to consider and put off the root, the fuel, the occasion of my sickness? What Hippocrates, what Galen, could show me that in my body? It lies deeper than so, it lies in my soul; and deeper than so, for we may well consider the body before the soul came, before inanimation, to be without sin; and the soul, before it come to the body, before that infection, to be without sin: sin is the root and the fuel of all sickness, and yet that which destroys body and soul is in neither, but in both together. It is the union of the body and soul, and, O my God, could I prevent that, or can I dissolve that? The root and the fuel of my sickness is my sin, my actual sin; but even that sin hath another root, another fuel, original sin; and can I divest that? Wilt thou bid me to separate the leaven that a lump of dough hath received, or the salt, that the water hath contracted, from the sea? Dost thou look, that I should so look to the fuel or embers of sin, that I never take fire? The whole world is a pile of fagots, upon which we are laid, and (as though there were no other) we are the bellows. Ignorance blows the fire. He that touched any unclean thing, though he knew it not, became unclean,[315] and a sacrifice was required (therefore a sin imputed), though it were done in ignorance.[316] Ignorance blows this coal; but then knowledge much more; for there are that _know thy judgments, and yet not only do, but have pleasure in others that do against them_.[317] Nature blows this coal; _by nature we are the children of wrath_;[318] and the law blows it; thy apostle Saint Paul found that _sin took occasion by the law_, that therefore, because it is forbidden, we do some things. If we break the law, we sin; _sin is the transgression of the law_;[319] and sin itself becomes a law in our members.[320] Our fathers have imprinted the seed, infused a spring of sin in us. _As a fountain casteth out her waters_, we _cast out our wickedness_, but _we have done worse than our fathers_.[321] We are open to infinite temptations, and yet, as though we lacked, we are tempted of our own lusts.[322] And not satisfied with that, as though we were not powerful enough, or cunning enough, to demolish or undermine ourselves, when we ourselves have no pleasure in the sin, we sin for others' sakes. When Adam sinned for Eve's sake,[323] and Solomon to gratify his wives,[324] it was an uxorious sin; when the judges sinned for Jezebel's sake,[325] and Joab to obey David,[326] it was an ambitious sin; when Pilate sinned to humour the people,[327] and Herod to give farther contentment to the Jews,[328] it was a popular sin. Any thing serves to occasion sin, at home in my bosom, or abroad in my mark and aim; that which I am, and that which I am not, that which I would be, proves coals, and embers, and fuel, and bellows to sin; and dost thou put me, O my God, to discharge myself of myself, before I can be well? When thou bidst me _to put off the old man_,[329] dost thou mean not only my old habits of actual sin, but the oldest of all, original sin? When thou bidst me _purge out the leaven_,[330] dost thou mean not only the sourness of mine own ill contracted customs, but the innate tincture of sin imprinted by nature? How shall I do that which thou requirest, and not falsify that which thou hast said, that sin is gone over all? But, O my God, I press thee not with thine own text, without thine own comment; I know that in the state of my body, which is more discernible than that of my soul, thou dost effigiate my soul to me. And though no anatomist can say, in dissecting a body, "Here lay the coal, the fuel, the occasion of all bodily diseases," but yet a man may have such a knowledge of his own constitution and bodily inclination to diseases, as that he may prevent his danger in a great part; so, though we cannot assign the place of original sin, nor the nature of it, so exactly as of actual, or by any diligence divest it, yet, having washed it in the water of thy baptism, we have not only so cleansed it, that we may the better look upon it and discern it, but so weakened it, that howsoever it may retain the former nature, it doth not retain the former force, and though it may have the same name, it hath not the same venom.

Xxii. Prayer

XXII. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, the God of security, and the enemy of security too, who wouldst have us always sure of thy love, and yet wouldst have us always doing something for it, let me always so apprehend thee as present with me, and yet so follow after thee, as though I had not apprehended thee. Thou enlargedst Hezekiah's lease for fifteen years; thou renewedst Lazarus's lease for a time which we know not; but thou didst never so put out any of these fires as that thou didst not rake up the embers, and wrap up a future mortality in that body, which thou hadst then so reprieved. Thou proceedest no otherwise in our souls, O our good but fearful God; thou pardonest no sin, so as that that sinner can sin no more; thou makest no man so acceptable as that thou makest him impeccable. Though therefore it were a diminution of the largeness, and derogatory to the fulness of thy mercy, to look back upon the sins which in a true repentance I have buried in the wounds of thy Son, with a jealous or suspicious eye, as though they were now my sins, when I had so transferred them upon thy Son, as though they could now be raised to life again, to condemn me to death, when they are dead in him who is the fountain of life, yet were it an irregular anticipation, and an insolent presumption, to think that thy present mercy extended to all my future sins, or that there were no embers, no coals, of future sins left in me. Temper therefore thy mercy so to my soul, O my God, that I may neither decline to any faintness of spirit, in suspecting thy mercy now to be less hearty, less sincere, than it uses to be, to those who are perfectly reconciled to thee, nor presume so of it as either to think this present mercy an antidote against all poisons, and so expose myself to temptations, upon confidence that this thy mercy shall preserve me, or that when I do cast myself into new sins, I may have new mercy at any time, because thou didst so easily afford me this.

FOOTNOTES:

[315] Lev. v. 2.

[316] Num. xv. 24.

[317] Rom. i. 32.

[318] Eph. ii. 3.

[319] 1 John, iii. 4.

[320] Rom. vii. 23.

[321] Jer. vi. 7; vii. 26.

[322] James, i. 14.

[323] Gen. iii. 6.

[324] 1 Kings, xi. 3.

[325] 1 Kings, xxi.

[326] 2 Sam. xi. 16-21.

[327] Luke, xxiii. 23.

[328] Acts, xii. 3.

[329] Eph. iv. 22.

[330] 1 Cor. v. 7.

Xxiii. Metusque, Relabi

XXIII. METUSQUE, RELABI.

_They warn me of the fearful danger of relapsing._

Xxiii. Meditation

XXIII. MEDITATION.

It is not in man's body, as it is in the city, that when the bell hath rung, to cover your fire, and rake up the embers, you may lie down and sleep without fear. Though you have by physic and diet raked up the embers of your disease, still there is a fear of a relapse; and the greater danger is in that. Even in pleasures and in pains, there is a proprietary, a _meum et tuum_, and a man is most affected with that pleasure which is his, his by former enjoying and experience, and most intimidated with those pains which are his, his by a woful sense of them, in former afflictions. A covetous person, who hath preoccupated all his senses, filled all his capacities with the delight of gathering, wonders how any man can have any taste of any pleasure in any openness or liberality; so also in bodily pains, in a fit of the stone, the patient wonders why any man should call the gout a pain; and he that hath felt neither, but the toothache, is as much afraid of a fit of that as either of the other of either of the other. Diseases which we never felt in ourselves come but to a compassion of others that have endured them; nay, compassion itself comes to no great degree if we have not felt in some proportion in ourselves that which we lament and condole in another. But when we have had those torments in their exaltation ourselves, we tremble at relapse. When we must pant through all those fiery heats, and sail through all those overflowing sweats, when we must watch through all those long nights, and mourn through all those long days (days and nights, so long as that Nature herself shall seem to be perverted, and to have put the longest day, and the longest night, which should be six months asunder, into one natural, unnatural day), when we must stand at the same bar, expect the return of physicians from their consultations, and not be sure of the same verdict, in any good indications, when we must go the same way over again, and not see the same issue, that is a state, a condition, a calamity, in respect of which any other sickness were a convalescence, and any greater, less. It adds to the affliction, that relapses are (and for the most part justly) imputed to ourselves, as occasioned by some disorder in us; and so we are not only passive but active in our own ruin; we do not only stand under a falling house, but pull it down upon us; and we are not only executed (that implies guiltiness), but we are executioners (that implies dishonour), and executioners of ourselves (and that implies impiety). And we fall from that comfort which we might have in our first sickness, from that meditation, "Alas, how generally miserable is man, and how subject to diseases" (for in that it is some degree of comfort that we are but in the state common to all), we fall, I say, to this discomfort, and self-accusing, and self-condemning: "Alas, how improvident, and in that how unthankful to God and his instruments, am I in making so ill use of so great benefits, in destroying so soon so long a work, in relapsing, by my disorder, to that from which they had delivered me": and so my meditation is fearfully transferred from the body to the mind, and from the consideration of the sickness to that sin, that sinful carelessness, by which I have occasioned my relapse. And amongst the many weights that aggravate a relapse, this also is one, that a relapse proceeds with a more violent dispatch, and more irremediably, because it finds the country weakened, and depopulated before. Upon a sickness, which as yet appears not, we can scarce fix a fear, because we know not what to fear; but as fear is the busiest and irksomest affection, so is a relapse (which is still ready to come) into that which is but newly gone, the nearest object, the most immediate exercise of that affection of fear.

Xxiii. Expostulation

XXIII. EXPOSTULATION.

My God, my God, my God, thou mighty Father, who hast been my physician; thou glorious Son, who hast been my physic; thou blessed Spirit, who hast prepared and applied all to me, shall I alone be able to overthrow the work of all you, and relapse into those spiritual sicknesses from which infinite mercies have withdrawn me? Though thou, O my God, have filled my measure with mercy, yet my measure was not so large as that of thy whole people, the nation, the numerous and glorious nation of Israel; and yet how often, how often did they fall into relapses! And then, where is my assurance? How easily thou passedst over many other sins in them, and how vehemently thou insistedst in those into which they so often relapsed; those were their murmurings against thee, in thine instruments and ministers, and their turnings upon other gods, and embracing the idolatries of their neighbours. O my God, how slippery a way, to how irrecoverable a bottom, is murmuring; and how near thyself he comes, that murmurs at him who comes from thee! The magistrate is the garment in which thou apparelest thyself, and he that shoots at the clothes cannot say he meant no ill to the man: thy people were fearful examples of that, for how often did their murmuring against thy ministers end in a departing from thee! When they would have other officers, they would have other gods; and still to-day's murmuring was to-morrow's idolatry; as their murmuring induced idolatry, and they relapsed often into both, I have found in myself, O my God (O my God, thou hast found it in me, and thy finding it hast showed it to me) such a transmigration of sin, as makes me afraid of relapsing too. The soul of sin (for we have made sin immortal, and it must have a soul), the soul of sin is disobedience to thee; and when one sin hath been dead in me, that soul hath passed into another sin. Our youth dies, and the sins of our youth with it; some sins die a violent death, and some a natural; poverty, penury, imprisonment, banishment, kill some sins in us, and some die of age; many ways we become unable to do that sin, but still the soul lives and passes into another sin; and that that was licentiousness grows ambition, and that comes to indevotion and spiritual coldness: we have three lives in our state of sin, and where the sins of youth expire, those of our middle years enter, and those of our age after them. This transmigration of sin found in myself, makes me afraid, O my God, of a relapse; but the occasion of my fear is more pregnant than so, for I have had, I have multiplied relapses already. Why, O my God, is a relapse so odious to thee? Not so much their murmuring and their idolatry, as their relapsing into those sins, seems to affect thee in thy disobedient people. _They limited the holy One of Israel_,[331] as thou complainest of them: that was a murmuring; but before thou chargest them with the fault itself, in the same place thou chargest them with the iterating, the redoubling of that fault before the fault was named; _How oft did they provoke me in the wilderness, and grieve me in the desert?_ That which brings thee to that exasperation against them, as to say, that thou wouldst break thine own oath rather than leave them unpunished (_They shall not see the land which I sware unto their fathers_) was because _they had tempted thee ten times_,[332] infinitely; upon that thou threatenest with that vehemency, _If you do in any wise go back, know for a certainty God will no more drive out any of these nations from before you; but they shall be snares and traps unto you, and scourges in your sides, and thorns in your eyes, till ye perish_.[333] No tongue but thine own, O my God, can express thine indignation against a nation relapsing to idolatry. Idolatry in any nation is deadly, but when the disease is complicated with a relapse (a knowledge and a profession of a former recovery), it is desperate; and thine anger works, not only where the evidence is pregnant and without exception (so thou sayest when it is said, that certain men in a city have withdrawn others to idolatry, and that inquiry is made, and it is found true; the city, and the inhabitants, and the cattle are to be destroyed),[334] but where there is but a suspicion, a rumour, of such a relapse to idolatry, thine anger is awakened, and thine indignation stirred. In the government of thy servant Joshua, there was a voice, that Reuben and Gad, with those of Manasseh, had built a new altar.[335] Israel doth not send one to inquire, but the whole congregation gathered to go up to war against them,[336] and there went a prince of every tribe; and they object to them, not so much their present declination to idolatry, as their relapse: _Is the iniquity of Peor too little for us?_[337] an idolatry formerly committed, and punished with the slaughter of twenty-four thousand delinquents. At last Reuben and Gad satisfy them, that that altar was not built for idolatry, but built as a pattern of theirs, that they might thereby profess themselves to be of the same profession that they were, and so the army returned without blood. Even where it comes not so far as to an actual relapse into idolatry, thou, O my God, becomest sensible of it; though thou, who seest the heart all the way, preventest all dangerous effects where there was no ill meaning, however there were occasion of suspicious rumours given to thine Israel of relapsing. So odious to thee, and so aggravating a weight upon sin is a relapse. But, O my God, why is it so? so odious? It must be so, because he that hath sinned and then repented, hath weighed God and the devil in a balance; he hath heard God and the devil plead, and after hearing given judgment on that side to which he adheres by his subsequent practice;[338] if he return to his sin, he decrees for Satan, he prefers sin before grace, and Satan before God; and in contempt of God, declares the precedency for his adversary; and a contempt wounds deeper than an injury, a relapse deeper than a blasphemy. And when thou hast told me that a relapse is more odious to thee, need I ask why it is more dangerous, more pernicious to me? Is there any other measure of the greatness of my danger, than the greatness of thy displeasure? How fitly and how fearfully hast thou expressed my case in a storm at sea, if I relapse; _They mount up to heaven, and they go down again to the depth_![339] My sickness brought me to thee in repentance, and my relapse hath cast me farther from thee. _The end of that man shall be worse than the beginning_,[340] says thy Word, thy Son; my beginning was sickness, punishment for sin: but _a worse thing may follow_,[341] says he also, if I sin again; not only death, which is an end worse than sickness, which was the beginning, but hell, which is a beginning worse than that end. Thy great servant denied thy Son,[342] and he denied him again, but all before repentance; here was no relapse. O, if thou hadst ever readmitted Adam into Paradise, how abstinently would he have walked by that tree! And would not the angels that fell have fixed themselves upon thee, if thou hadst once readmitted them to thy sight? They never relapsed; if I do, must not my case be as desperate? Not so desperate; for _as thy majesty, so is thy mercy_,[343] both infinite; and thou, who hast commanded me to pardon my brother seventy-seven times, hast limited thyself to no number. If death were ill in itself, thou wouldst never have raised any dead man to life again, because that man must necessarily die again. If thy mercy in pardoning did so far aggravate a relapse, as that there were no more mercy after it, our case were the worse for that former mercy; for who is not under even a necessity of sinning whilst he is here, if we place this necessity in our own infirmity, and not in thy decree? But I speak not this, O my God, as preparing a way to my relapse out of presumption, but to preclude all accesses of desperation, though out of infirmity I should relapse.

Xxiii. Prayer

XXIII. PRAYER.

O eternal and most gracious God, who, though thou beest ever infinite, yet enlargest thyself by the number of our prayers, and takest our often petitions to thee to be an addition to thy glory and thy greatness, as ever upon all occasions, so now, O my God, I come to thy majesty with two prayers, two supplications. I have meditated upon the jealousy which thou hast of thine own honour, and considered that nothing comes nearer a violating of that honour, nearer to the nature of a scorn to thee, than to sue out thy pardon, and receive the seals of reconciliation to thee, and then return to that sin for which I needed and had thy pardon before. I know that this comes too near to a making thy holy ordinances, thy word, thy sacraments, thy seals, thy grace, instruments of my spiritual fornications. Since therefore thy correction hath brought me to such a participation of thyself (thyself, O my God, cannot be parted), to such an entire possession of thee, as that I durst deliver myself over to thee this minute, if this minute thou wouldst accept my dissolution, preserve me, O my God, the God of constancy and perseverance, in this state, from all relapses into those sins which have induced thy former judgments upon me. But because, by too lamentable experience, I know how slippery my customs of sin have made my ways of sin, I presume to add this petition too, that if my infirmity overtake me, thou forsake me not. Say to my soul, _My son, thou hast sinned, do so no more_;[344] but say also, that though I do, thy spirit of remorse and compunction shall never depart from me. Thy holy apostle, St. Paul, was shipwrecked thrice,[345] and yet still saved. Though the rocks and the sands, the heights and the shallows, the prosperity and the adversity of this world, do diversely threaten me, though mine own leaks endanger me, yet, O God, let me never put myself aboard with Hymenæus, nor _make shipwreck of faith and a good conscience_,[346] and then thy long-lived, thy everlasting mercy, will visit me, though that which I most earnestly pray against, should fall upon me, a relapse into those sins which I have truly repented, and thou hast fully pardoned.

FOOTNOTES:

[331] Psalm lxxviii. 41.

[332] Numb. xiv. 22, 23.

[333] Josh. xxiii. 12, 13.

[334] Deut. xiii. 12-16.

[335] Josh. xxii. 11, 12.

[336] Josh. xxii. 11, 12.

[337] Josh. xxii. 17.

[338] Tertullian.

[339] Psalm cvii. 26.

[340] Matt. xii. 45.

[341] John, v. 14.

[342] Mark, xiv. 70.

[343] Ecclus. ii. 18.

[344] Ecclus. i. 21.

[345] 2 Cor. xi. 25.

[346] 1 Tim. i. 19.

_DEATH'S DUEL,_

_OR, A CONSOLATION TO THE SOUL

Against The Dying Life And Living

AGAINST THE DYING LIFE AND LIVING DEATH OF THE BODY._

_DELIVERED IN A SERMON AT WHITEHALL, BEFORE

The King'S Majesty, In The Beginning

THE KING'S MAJESTY, IN THE BEGINNING OF LENT, 1630._

_BY THAT LATE LEARNED AND REVEREND DIVINE,

John Donne, Dr. In Divinity, And Dean

JOHN DONNE, DR. IN DIVINITY, AND DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S, LONDON._

_BEING HIS LAST SERMON, AND CALLED BY HIS

Majesty'S Household, The Doctor'S Own

MAJESTY'S HOUSEHOLD, THE DOCTOR'S OWN FUNERAL SERMON._

_TO THE READER_

_This sermon was, by sacred authority, styled the author's own funeral sermon, most fitly, whether we respect the time or matter. It was preached not many days before his death, as if, having done this, there remained nothing for him to do but to die; and the matter is of death--the occasion and subject of all funeral sermons. It hath been observed of this reverend man, that his faculty in preaching continually increased, and that, as he exceeded others at first, so at last he exceeded himself. This is his last sermon; I will not say it is therefore his best, because all his were excellent. Yet thus much: a dying man's words, if they concern ourselves, do usually make the deepest impression, as being spoken most feelingly, and with least affectation. Now, whom doth it concern to learn both the danger and benefit of death? Death is every man's enemy, and intends hurt to all, though to many he be occasion of greatest good. This enemy we must all combat dying, whom he living did almost conquer, having discovered the utmost of his power, the utmost of his cruelty. May we make such use of this and other the like preparatives, that neither death, whensoever it shall come, may seem terrible, nor life tedious, how long soever it shall last._

_DEATH'S DUEL_

PSALM LXVIII. 20, _in fine_.

_And unto God the Lord belong the issues of death (i.e. from death)._

Buildings stand by the benefit of their foundations that sustain and support them, and of their buttresses that comprehend and embrace them, and of their contignations that knit and unite them. The foundations suffer them not to sink, the buttresses suffer them not to swerve, and the contignation and knitting suffers them not to cleave. The body of our building is in the former part of this verse. It is this: _He that is our God is the God of salvation_; _ad salutes_, of salvations in the plural, so it is in the original; the God that gives us spiritual and temporal salvation too. But of this building, the foundation, the buttresses, the contignations, are in this part of the verse which constitutes our text, and in the three divers acceptations of the words amongst our expositors: _Unto God the Lord belong the issues from death_, for, first, the foundation of this building (that our God is the God of all salvation) is laid in this, that _unto_ this _God the Lord belong the issues of death_; that is, it is in his power to give us an issue and deliverance, even then when we are brought to the jaws and teeth of death, and to the lips of that whirlpool, the grave. And so in this acceptation, this _exitus mortis_, this issue of death is _liberatio á morte_, a deliverance from death, and this is the most obvious and most ordinary acceptation of these words, and that upon which our translation lays hold, the _issues from death_. And then, secondly, the buttresses that comprehend and settle this building, that he that is our God is the God of all salvation, are thus raised; _unto God the Lord belong the issues of death_, that is, the disposition and manner of our death; what kind of issue and transmigration we shall have out of this world, whether prepared or sudden, whether violent or natural, whether in our perfect senses or shaken and disordered by sickness, there is no condemnation to be argued out of that, no judgment to be made upon that, for, howsoever they die, _precious in his sight is the death of his saints_, and with him are the issues of death; the ways of our departing out of this life are in his hands. And so in this sense of the words, this _exitus mortis_, the issues of death, is _liberatio in morte_, a deliverance in death; not that God will deliver us from dying, but that he will have a care of us in the hour of death, of what kind soever our passage be. And in this sense and acceptation of the words, the natural frame and contexture doth well and pregnantly administer unto us. And then, lastly, the contignation and knitting of this building, that he that is our God is the God of all salvations, consists in this, _Unto_ this _God the Lord belong the issues of death_; that is, that this God the Lord having united and knit both natures in one, and being God, having also come into this world in our flesh, he could have no other means to save us, he could have no other issue out of this world, nor return to his former glory, but by death. And so in this sense, this _exitus mortis_, this issue of death, is _liberatio per mortem_, a deliverance by death, by the death of this God, our Lord Christ Jesus. And this is Saint Augustine's acceptation of the words, and those many and great persons that have adhered to him. In all these three lines, then, we shall look upon these words, first, as the God of power, the Almighty Father rescues his servants from the jaws of death; and then as the God of mercy, the glorious Son rescued us by taking upon himself this issue of death; and then, between these two, as the God of comfort, the Holy Ghost rescues us from all discomfort by his blessed impressions beforehand, that what manner of death soever be ordained for us, yet this _exitus mortis_ shall be _introitus in vitam_, our issue in death shall be an entrance into everlasting life. And these three considerations: our deliverance _à morte, in morte, per mortem_, from death, in death, and by death, will abundantly do all the offices of the foundations, of the buttresses, of the contignation, of this our building; that he that is our God is the God of all salvation, because _unto_ this _God the Lord belong the issues of death_.

First, then, we consider this _exitus mortis_ to be _liberatio à morte_, that with _God the Lord are the issues of death_; and therefore in all our death, and deadly calamities of this life, we may justly hope of a good issue from him. In all our periods and transitions in this life, are so many passages from death to death; our very birth and entrance into this life is _exitus à morte_, an issue from death, for in our mother's womb we are dead, so as that we do not know we live, not so much as we do in our sleep, neither is there any grave so close or so putrid a prison, as the womb would be unto us if we stayed in it beyond our time, or died there before our time. In the grave the worms do not kill us; we breed, and feed, and then kill those worms which we ourselves produced. In the womb the dead child kills the mother that conceived it, and is a murderer, nay, a parricide, even after it is dead. And if we be not dead so in the womb, so as that being dead we kill her that gave us our first life, our life of vegetation, yet we are dead so as David's idols are dead. In the womb we have _eyes and see not, ears and hear not_.[347] There in the womb we are fitted for works of darkness, all the while deprived of light; and there in the womb we are taught cruelty, by being fed with blood, and may be damned, though we be never born. Of our very making in the womb, David says, _I am wonderfully and fearfully made_, and _such knowledge is too excellent for me_,[348] for even that _is the Lord's doing, and it is wonderful in our eyes_;[349] ipse fecit nos, _it is he that made us, and not we ourselves_,[350] nor our parents neither. _Thy hands have made and fashioned me round about_, saith Job, _and_ (as the original word is) _thou hast taken pains about me, and yet_ (says he) _thou dost destroy me_. Though I be the masterpiece of the greatest master (man is so), yet if thou do no more for me, if thou leave me where thou madest me, destruction will follow. The womb, which should be the house of life, becomes death itself if God leave us there. That which God threatens so often, the shutting of a womb, is not so heavy nor so discomfortable a curse in the first as in the latter shutting, nor in the shutting of barrenness as in the shutting of weakness, when _children are come to the birth, and no strength to bring forth_.[351]

It is the exaltation of misery to fall from a near hope of happiness. And in that vehement imprecation, the prophet expresses the highest of God's anger, _Give them, O Lord, what wilt thou give them? give them a miscarrying womb._ Therefore as soon as we are men (that is, inanimated, quickened in the womb), though we cannot ourselves, our parents have to say in our behalf, _Wretched man that he is, who shall deliver him from this body of death?_[352] if there be no deliverer. It must be he that said to Jeremiah, _Before I formed thee I knew thee, and before thou camest out of the womb I sanctified thee_. We are not sure that there was no kind of ship nor boat to fish in, nor to pass by, till God prescribed Noah that absolute form of the ark.[353] That word which the Holy Ghost, by Moses, useth for the ark, is common to all kind of boats, _thebah_; and is the same word that Moses useth for the boat that he was exposed in, that his mother laid him in an ark of bulrushes. But we are sure that Eve had no midwife when she was delivered of Cain, therefore she might well say, _Possedi virum à Domino, I have gotten a man from the Lord_,[354] wholly, entirely from the Lord; it is the Lord that enabled me to conceive, the Lord that infused a quickening soul into that conception, the Lord that brought into the world that which himself had quickened; without all this might Eve say, my body had been but the house of death, and _Domini Domini sunt exitus mortis, To God the Lord belong the issues of death_. But then this _exitus à morte_ is but _introitus in mortem_; this issue, this deliverance, from that death, the death of the womb, is an entrance, a delivering over to another death, the manifold deaths of this world; we have a winding-sheet in our mother's womb which grows with us from our conception, and we come into the world wound up in that winding-sheet, for we come to seek a grave. And as prisoners discharged of actions may lie for fees, so when the womb hath discharged us, yet we are bound to it by cords of hestæ, by such a string as that we cannot go thence, nor stay there; we celebrate our own funerals with cries even at our birth; as though our threescore and ten years' life were spent in our mother's labour, and our circle made up in the first point thereof; we beg our baptism with another sacrament, with tears; and we come into a world that lasts many ages, but we last not. _In domo Patris_, says our Saviour, speaking of heaven, _multæ mansiones_, divers and durable; so that if a man cannot possess a martyr's house (he hath shed no blood for Christ), yet he may have a confessor's, he hath been ready to glorify God in the shedding of his blood. And if a woman cannot possess a virgin's house (she hath embraced the holy state of marriage), yet she may have a matron's house, she hath brought forth and brought up children in the fear of God. _In domo Patris, in my Father's house_, in heaven, there _are many mansions_;[355] but here, upon earth, the _Son of man hath not where to lay his head_,[356] saith he himself. _Nonne terram dedit filiis hominum?_ How then hath God given this earth to the sons of men? He hath given them earth for their materials to be made of earth, and he hath given them earth for their grave and sepulchre, to return and resolve to earth, but not for their possession. _Here we have no continuing city_,[357] nay, no cottage that continues, nay, no persons, no bodies, that continue. Whatsoever moved Saint Jerome to call the journeys of the Israelites in the wilderness,[358] mansions; the word (the word is _nasang_) signifies but a journey, but a peregrination. Even the Israel of God hath no mansions, but journeys, pilgrimages in this life. By what measure did Jacob measure his life to Pharaoh? _The days of the years of my pilgrimage._[359] And though the apostle would not say _morimur_, that whilst we are in the body we are dead, yet he says, _perigrinamur_, whilst we are in the body we are but in a pilgrimage, and we are _absent from the Lord_:[360] he might have said dead, for this whole world is but an universal churchyard, but our common grave, and the life and motion that the greatest persons have in it is but as the shaking of buried bodies in their grave, by an earthquake. That which we call life is but _hebdomada mortium_, a week of death, seven days, seven periods of our life spent in dying, a dying seven times over; and there is an end. Our birth dies in infancy, and our infancy dies in youth, and youth and the rest die in age, and age also dies and determines all. Nor do all these, youth out of infancy, or age out of youth, arise so, as the phoenix out of the ashes of another phoenix formerly dead, but as a wasp or a serpent out of a carrion, or as a snake out of dung. Our youth is worse than our infancy, and our age worse than our youth. Our youth is hungry and thirsty after those sins which our infancy knew not; and our age is sorry and angry, that it cannot pursue those sins which our youth did; and besides, all the way, so many deaths, that is, so many deadly calamities accompany every condition and every period of this life, as that death itself would be an ease to them that suffer them. Upon this sense doth Job wish that God had not given him an issue from the first death, from the womb, _Wherefore thou hast brought me forth out of the womb? Oh that I had given up the ghost, and no eye seen me! I should have been as though I had not been._[361] And not only the impatient Israelites in their murmuring (_would to God we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt_),[362] but Elijah himself, when he fled from Jezebel, and went for his life, as that text says, under the juniper tree, requested that he might die, and said, _It is enough now, O Lord, take away my life_.[363] So Jonah justifies his impatience, nay, his anger, towards God himself: _Now, O Lord, take, I beseech thee, my life from me, for it is better to die than to live_.[364] And when God asked him, _Dost thou well to be angry for this?_ he replies, _I do well to be angry, even unto death_. How much worse a death than death is this life, which so good men would so often change for death! But if my case be as Saint Paul's case, _quotidiè morior_, that I die daily, that something heavier than death fall upon me every day; if my case be David's case, _tota die mortificamur; all the day long we are killed_, that not only every day, but every hour of the day, something heavier than death fall upon me; though that be true of me, _Conceptus in peccatis, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me_ (there I died one death); though that be true of me, _Natus filius iræ_, I was born not only the child of sin, but the child of wrath, of the wrath of God for sin, which is a heavier death: yet _Domini Domini sunt exitus mortis, with God the Lord are the issues of death_; and after a Job, and a Joseph, and a Jeremiah, and a Daniel, I cannot doubt of a deliverance. And if no other deliverance conduce more to his glory and my good, yet he hath the keys of death,[365] and he can let me out at that door, that is, deliver me from the manifold deaths of this world, the _omni die_, and the _tota die_, the every day's death and every hour's death, by that one death, the final dissolution of body and soul, the end of all. But then is that the end of all? Is that dissolution of body and soul the last death that the body shall suffer (for of spiritual death we speak not now). It is not, though this be _exitus à morte_: it is _introitus in mortem_; though it be an issue from manifold deaths of this world, yet it is an entrance into the death of corruption and putrefaction, and vermiculation, and incineration, and dispersion in and from the grave, in which every dead man dies over again. It was a prerogative peculiar to Christ, not to die this death, not to see corruption. What gave him this privilege? Not Joseph's great proportion of gums and spices, that might have preserved his body from corruption and incineration longer than he needed it, longer than three days, but it would not have done it for ever. What preserved him then? Did his exemption and freedom from original sin preserve him from this corruption and incineration? It is true that original sin hath induced this corruption and incineration upon us; if we had not sinned in Adam, _mortality had not put on immortality_[366] (as the apostle speaks), nor _corruption had not put on incorruption_, but we had had our transmigration from this to the other world without any mortality, any corruption at all. But yet since Christ took sin upon him, so far as made him mortal, he had it so far too as might have made him see this corruption and incineration, though he had no original sin in himself; what preserved him then? Did the hypostatical union of both natures, God and man, preserve him from this corruption and incineration? It is true that this was a most powerful embalming, to be embalmed with the Divine Nature itself, to be embalmed with eternity, was able to preserve him from corruption and incineration for ever. And he was embalmed so, embalmed with the Divine Nature itself, even in his body as well as in his soul; for the Godhead, the Divine Nature, did not depart, but remained still united to his dead body in the grave; but yet for all this powerful embalming, his hypostatical union of both natures, we see Christ did die; and for all his union which made him God and man, he became no man (for the union of the body and soul makes the man, and he whose soul and body are separated by death as long as that state lasts, is properly no man). And therefore as in him the dissolution of body and soul was no dissolution of the hypostatical union, so there is nothing that constrains us to say, that though the flesh of Christ had seen corruption and incineration in the grave, this had not been any dissolution of the hypostatical union, for the Divine nature, the Godhead, might have remained with all the elements and principles of Christ's body, as well as it did with the two constitutive parts of his person, his body and his soul. This incorruption then was not in Joseph's gums and spices, nor was it in Christ's innocency, and exemption from original sin, nor was it (that is, it is not necessary to say it was) in the hypostatical union. But this incorruptibleness of his flesh is most conveniently placed in that; _Non dabis, thou wilt not suffer thy Holy One to see corruption_; we look no further for causes or reasons in the mysteries of religion, but to the will and pleasure of God; Christ himself limited his inquisition in that _ita est, even so, Father, for so it seemeth good in thy sight_. Christ's body did not see corruption, therefore, because God had decreed it should not. The humble soul (and only the humble soul is the religious soul) rests himself upon God's purposes and the decrees of God which he hath declared and manifested, not such as are conceived and imagined in ourselves, though upon some probability, some verisimilitude; so in our present case Peter proceeds in his sermon at Jerusalem, and so Paul in his at Antioch.[367] They preached Christ to have been risen without seeing corruption, not only because God had decreed it, but because he had manifested that decree in his prophet, therefore doth Saint Paul cite by special number the second Psalm for that decree, and therefore both Saint Peter and Saint Paul cite for it that place in the sixteenth Psalm;[368] for when God declares his decree and purpose in the express words of his prophet, or when he declares it in the real execution of the decree, then he makes it ours, then he manifests it to us. And therefore, as the mysteries of our religion are not the objects of our reason, but by faith we rest on God's decree and purpose--(it is so, O God, because it is thy will it should be so)--so God's decrees are ever to be considered in the manifestation thereof. All manifestation is either in the word of God, or in the execution of the decree; and when these two concur and meet it is the strongest demonstration that can be: when therefore I find those marks of adoption and spiritual filiation which are delivered in the word of God to be upon me; when I find that real execution of his good purpose upon me, as that actually I do live under the obedience and under the conditions which are evidences of adoption and spiritual filiation; then, so long as I see these marks and live so, I may safely comfort myself in a holy certitude and a modest infallibility of my adoption. Christ determines himself in that, the purpose of God was manifest to him; Saint Peter and Saint Paul determine themselves in those two ways of knowing the purpose of God, the word of God before the execution of the decree in the fulness of time. It was prophesied before, said they, and it is performed now, Christ is risen without seeing corruption. Now, this which is so singularly peculiar to him, that his flesh should not see corruption, at his second coming, his coming to judgment, shall extend to all that are then alive; their hestæ shall not see corruption, because, as the apostle says, and says as a secret, as a mystery, _Behold I shew you a mystery, we shall not all sleep_ (that is, not continue in the state of the dead in the grave), _but we shall all be changed in an instant_, we shall have a dissolution, and in the same instant a redintegration, a recompacting of body and soul, and that shall be truly a death and truly a resurrection, but no sleeping in corruption; but for us that die now and sleep in the state of the dead, we must all pass this posthume death, this death after death, nay, this death after burial, this dissolution after dissolution, this death of corruption and putrefaction, of vermiculation and incineration, of dissolution and dispersion in and from the grave, when these bodies that have been the children of royal parents, and the parents of royal children, must say with Job, _Corruption, thou art my father, and to the worm, Thou art my mother and my sister_. Miserable riddle, when the same worm must be my mother, and my sister and myself! Miserable incest, when I must be married to my mother and my sister, and be both father and mother to my own mother and sister, beget and bear that worm which is all that miserable penury; when my mouth shall be filled with dust, and the _worm shall feed, and feed sweetly_[369] upon me; when the ambitious man shall have no satisfaction, if the poorest alive tread upon him, nor the poorest receive any contentment in being made equal to princes, for they shall be equal but in dust. _One dieth at his full strength, being wholly at ease and in quiet; and another dies in the bitterness of his soul, and never eats with pleasure_; but _they lie down alike in the dust, and the worm covers them_.[370] In Job and in Isaiah,[371] it covers them and is spread under them, _the worm is spread under thee, and the worm covers thee_. There are the mats and the carpets that lie under, and there are the state and the canopy that hang over the greatest of the sons of men. Even those bodies that were _the temples of the Holy Ghost_ come to this dilapidation, to ruin, to rubbish, to dust; even the Israel of the Lord, and Jacob himself, hath no other specification, no other denomination, but that _vermis Jacob_, thou worm of Jacob. Truly the consideration of this posthume death, this death after burial, that after God (with whom are the issues of death) hath delivered me from the death of the womb, by bringing me into the world, and from the manifold deaths of the world, by laying me in the grave, I must die again in an incineration of this flesh, and in a dispersion of that dust. That that monarch, who spread over many nations alive, must in his dust lie in a corner of that sheet of lead, and there but so long as that lead will last; and that private and retired man, that thought himself his own for ever, and never came forth, must in his dust of the grave be published, and (such are the revolutions of the grave) be mingled with the dust of every highway and of every dunghill, and swallowed in every puddle and pond. This is the most inglorious and contemptible vilification, the most deadly and peremptory nullification of man, that we can consider. God seems to have carried the declaration of his power to a great height, when he sets the prophet Ezekiel in the valley of dry bones, and says, _Son of man, can these bones live?_ as though it had been impossible, and yet they did; the Lord laid _sinews upon them, and flesh, and breathed into them, and they did live_. But in that case there were bones to be seen, something visible, of which it might be said, Can this thing live? But in this death of incineration and dispersion of dust, we see nothing that we call that man's. If we say, Can this dust live? Perchance it cannot; it may be the mere dust of the earth, which never did live, never shall. It may be the dust of that man's worm, which did live, but shall no more. It may be the dust of another man, that concerns not him of whom it was asked. This death of incineration and dispersion is, to natural reason, the most irrecoverable death of all; and yet _Domini Domini sunt exitus mortis, unto God the Lord belong the issues of death_; and by recompacting this dust into the same body, and remaining the same body with the same soul, he shall in a blessed and glorious resurrection give me such an issue from this death as shall never pass into any other death, but establish me into a life that shall last as long as the Lord of Life himself.

And so have you that that belongs to the first acceptation of these words (_unto God the Lord belong the issues of death_); That though from the womb to the grave, and in the grave itself, we pass from death to death, yet, as Daniel speaks, _the Lord our God is able to deliver us, and he will deliver us_.

And so we pass unto our second accommodation of these words (_unto God the Lord belong the issues of death_); that it belongs to God, and not to man, to pass a judgment upon us at our death, or to conclude a dereliction on God's part upon the manner thereof.

Those indications which the physicians receive, and those presagitions which they give for death or recovery in the patient, they receive and they give out of the grounds and the rules of their art; but we have no such rule or art to give a presagition of spiritual death and damnation upon any such indication as we see in any dying man; we see often enough to be sorry, but not to despair; we may be deceived both ways: we use to comfort ourself in the death of a friend, if it be testified that he went away like a lamb, that is, without any reluctation; but God knows that may be accompanied with a dangerous damp and stupefaction, and insensibility of his present state. Our blessed Saviour suffered colluctations with death, and a _sadness even in his soul to death_, and an agony even to a bloody sweat in his body, and expostulations with God, and exclamations upon the cross. He was a devout man who said upon his death-bed, or death-turf (for he was a hermit), _Septuaginta annos Domino servivisti, et mori times?_ Hast thou served a good master threescore and ten years, and now art thou loth to go into his presence? Yet Hilarion was loth. Barlaam was a devout man (a hermit too) that said that day he died, _Cogita te hodie cæpisse servire Domino, et hodie finiturum_, Consider this to be the first day's service that ever thou didst thy Master, to glorify him in a Christianly and a constant death, and if thy first day be thy last day too, how soon dost thou come to receive thy wages! Yet Barlaam could have been content to have stayed longer forth. Make no ill conclusions upon any man's lothness to die, for the mercies of God work momentarily in minutes, and many times insensibly to bystanders, or any other than the party departing. And then upon violent deaths inflicted as upon malefactors, Christ himself hath forbidden us by his own death to make any ill conclusion; for his own death had those impressions in it; he was reputed, he was executed as a malefactor, and no doubt many of them who concurred to his death did believe him to be so. Of sudden death there are scarce examples be found in the Scriptures upon good men, for death in battle cannot be called sudden death; but God governs not by examples but by rules, and therefore make no ill conclusion upon sudden death nor upon distempers neither, though perchance accompanied with some words of diffidence and distrust in the mercies of God. The tree lies as it falls, it is true, but it is not the last stroke that fells the tree, nor the last word nor gasp that qualifies the soul. Still pray we for a peaceable life against violent death, and for time of repentance against sudden death, and for sober and modest assurance against distempered and diffident death, but never make ill conclusions upon persons overtaken with such deaths; _Domini Domini sunt exitus mortis, to God the Lord belong the issues of death_. And he received Samson, who went out of this world in such a manner (consider it actively, consider it passively in his own death, and in those whom he slew with himself) as was subject to interpretation hard enough. Yet the Holy Ghost hath moved Saint Paul to celebrate Samson in his great catalogue,[372] and so doth all the church. Our critical day is not the very day of our death, but the whole course of our life. I thank him that prays for me when the bell tolls, but I thank him much more that catechises me, or preaches to me, or instructs me how to live. _Fac hoc et vive_, there is my security, the mouth of the Lord hath said it, _do this and thou shalt live_. But though I do it, yet I shall die too, die a bodily, a natural death. But God never mentions, never seems to consider that death, the bodily, the natural death. God doth not say, Live well, and thou shalt die well, that is, an easy, a quiet death; but, Live well here, and thou shalt live well for ever. As the first part of a sentence pieces well with the last, and never respects, never hearkens after the parenthesis that comes between, so doth a good life here flow into an eternal life, without any consideration what manner of death we die. But whether the gate of my prison be opened with an oiled key (by a gentle and preparing sickness), or the gate be hewn down by a violent death, or the gate be burnt down by a raging and frantic fever, a gate into heaven I shall have, for from the Lord is the cause of my life, and _with God the Lord are the issues of death_. And further we carry not this second acceptation of the words, as this _issue of death_ is _liberatio in morte_, God's care that the soul be safe, what agonies soever the body suffers in the hour of death.

But pass to our third part and last part: As this issue of death is _liberatio per mortem_, a deliverance by the death of another. _Sufferentiam Job audiisti, et vidisti finem Domini_, says Saint James (v. 11), _You have heard of the patience of Job_, says he: all this while you have done that, for in every man, calamitous, miserable man, a Job speaks. Now, _see the end of the Lord_, sayeth that apostle, which is not that end that the Lord proposed to himself (salvation to us), nor the end which he proposes to us (conformity to him), but _see the end of the Lord_, says he, the end that the Lord himself came to, death, and a painful and a shameful death. But why did he die? and why die so? _Quia Domini Domini sunt exitus mortis_ (as Saint Augustine, interpreting this text, answers that question),[373] because to this _God our Lord belonged the issues of death. Quid apertius diceretur?_ says he there, what can be more obvious, more manifest than this sense of these words? In the former part of this verse it is said, He that is _our God is the God of salvation; Deus salvos faciendi_, so he reads it, the God that must save us. Who can that be, says he, but Jesus? For therefore that name was given him because he was to save us. And to this Jesus, says he, this Saviour,[374] _belong the issues of death_; _Nec oportuit eum de hac vita alios exitus habere quam mortis_: being come into this life in our mortal nature, he could not go out of this life any other way but by death. _Ideo dictum_, says he, therefore it is said, _to God the Lord belonged the issues of death; ut ostenderetur moriendo nos salvos facturum_, to show that his way to save us was to die. And from this text doth Saint Isidore prove that Christ was truly man (which as many sects of heretics denied, as that he was truly God), because to him, though he were _Dominus Dominus_ (as the text doubles it), God the Lord, yet to _him, to God the Lord belonged the issues of death_; _oportuit eum pati_; more cannot be said than Christ himself says of himself; _These things Christ ought to suffer_;[375] he had no other way but death: so then this part of our sermon must needs be a passion sermon, since all his life was a continual passion, all our Lent may well be a continual Good Friday. Christ's painful life took off none of the pains of his death, he felt not the less then for having felt so much before. Nor will any thing that shall be said before lessen, but rather enlarge the devotion, to that which shall be said of his passion at the time of due solemnization thereof. Christ bled not a drop the less at the last for having bled at his circumcision before, nor will you a tear the less then if you shed some now. And therefore be now content to consider with me how _to this God the Lord belonged the issues of death_. That God, this Lord, the Lord of life, could die, is a strange contemplation; that the Red Sea could be dry, that the sun could stand still, that an oven could be seven times heat and not burn, that lions could be hungry and not bite, is strange, miraculously strange, but super-miraculous that God _could_ die; but that God _would_ die is an exaltation of that. But even of that also it is a super-exaltation, that God should die, must die, and _non exitus_ (said Saint Augustine), God the Lord had no issue but by death, and _oportuit pati_ (says Christ himself), all this Christ ought to suffer, was bound to suffer; _Deus ultimo Deus_, says David, God is the God of revenges, he would not pass over the son of man unrevenged, unpunished. But then _Deus ultionum libere egit_ (says that place), the God of revenges works freely, he punishes, he spares whom he will. And would he not spare himself? he would not: _Dilectio fortis ut mors, love is strong as death_;[376] stronger, it drew in death, that naturally is not welcome. _Si possibile_ says Christ, _if it be possible, let this cup pass_, when his love, expressed in a former decree with his Father, had made it impossible. _Many waters quench not love._[377] Christ tried many: he was baptised out of his love, and his love determined not there; he mingled blood with water in his agony, and that determined not his love; he wept pure blood, all his blood at all his eyes, at all his pores, in his flagellation and thorns (_to the Lord our God belonged the issues of blood_), and these expressed, but these did not quench his love. He would not spare, nay, he could not spare himself. There was nothing more free, more voluntary, more spontaneous than the death of Christ. It is true, _libere egit_, he died voluntarily; but yet when we consider the contract that had passed between his Father and him, there was an _oportuit_, a kind of necessity upon him: all this _Christ ought to suffer_. And when shall we date this obligation, this _oportuit_, this necessity? When shall we say that began? Certainly this decree by which Christ was to suffer all this was an eternal decree, and was there any thing before that that was eternal? Infinite love, eternal love; be pleased to follow this home, and to consider it seriously, that what liberty soever we can conceive in Christ to die or not to die; this necessity of dying, this decree is as eternal as that liberty; and yet how small a matter made he of this necessity and this dying? His Father calls it but a bruise, and but a bruising of his heel[378] (the serpent shall bruise his heel), and yet that was, that the serpent should practise and compass his death. Himself calls it but a baptism, as though he were to be the better for it. I _have a baptism to be baptised with_,[379] and he was in pain till it was accomplished, and yet this baptism was his death. The Holy Ghost calls it joy (_for the joy which was set before him he endured the cross_),[380] which was not a joy of his reward after his passion, but a joy that filled him even in the midst of his torments, and arose from him; when Christ calls his _calicem_ a cup, and no worse (_Can ye drink of my cup_)[381], he speaks not odiously, not with detestation of it. Indeed it was a cup, _salus mundo_, a health to all the world. And _quid retribuam_, says David, _What shall I render to the Lord?_[382] Answer you with David, _Accipiam calicem, I will take the cup of salvation_; take it, that cup is salvation, his passion, if not into your present imitation, yet into your present contemplation. And behold how that Lord that was God, yet could die, would die, must die for our salvation. That Moses and Elias talked with Christ in the transfiguration, both Saint Matthew and Saint Mark[383] tells us, but what they talked of, only Saint Luke; _Dicebant excessum ejus_, says he, _They talked of his disease, of his death, which was to be accomplished at Jerusalem_.[384] The word is of his _exodus_, the very word of our text, _exitus_, his _issue by death_. Moses, who in his exodus had prefigured this issue of our Lord, and in passing Israel out of Egypt through the Red Sea, had foretold in that actual prophecy, Christ passing of mankind through the sea of his blood; and Elias, whose exodus and issue of this world was a figure of Christ's ascension; had no doubt a great satisfaction in talking with our blessed Lord, _de excessu ejus_, of the full consummation of all this in his death, which was to be accomplished at Jerusalem. Our meditation of his death should be more visceral, and affect us more, because it is of a thing already done. The ancient Romans had a certain tenderness and detestation of the name of death; they could not name death, no, not in their wills; there they could not say, _Si mori contigerit_, but _si quid humanitas contingat_, not if or when I die, but when the course of nature is accomplished upon me. To us that speak daily of the death of Christ (he was crucified, dead, and buried), can the memory or the mention of our own death be irksome or bitter? There are in these latter times amongst us that name death freely enough, and the death of God, but in blasphemous oaths and execrations. Miserable men, who shall therefore be said never to have named Jesus, because they have named him too often; and therefore hear Jesus say, _Nescivi vos, I never knew you_, because they made themselves too familiar with him. Moses and Elias talked with Christ of his death only in a holy and joyful sense, of the benefit which they and all the world were to receive by that. Discourses of religion should not be out of curiosity, but to edification. And then they talked with Christ of his death at that time when he was in the greatest height of glory, that ever he admitted in this world, that is, his transfiguration. And we are afraid to speak to the great men of this world of their death, but nourish in them a vain imagination of immortality and immutability. But _bonum est nobis esse hic_ (as Saint Peter said there), _It is good to dwell here_, in this consideration of his death, and therefore transfer we our tabernacle (our devotions) through some of those steps which God the Lord made to his _issue of death_ that day. Take in the whole day from the hour that Christ received the passover upon Thursday unto the hour in which he died the next day. Make this present day that day in thy devotion, and consider what he did, and remember what you have done. Before he instituted and celebrated the sacrament (which was after the eating of the passover), he proceeded to that act of humility, to wash his disciples' feet, even Peter's, who for a while resisted him. In thy preparation to the holy and blessed sacrament, hast thou with a sincere humility sought a reconciliation with all the world, even with those that have been averse from it, and refused that reconciliation from thee? If so, and not else, thou hast spent that first part of his last day in a conformity with him. After the sacrament he spent the time till night in prayer, in preaching, in psalms: hast thou considered that a worthy receiving of the sacrament consists in a continuation of holiness after, as well as in a preparation before? If so, thou hast therein also conformed thyself to him; so Christ spent his time till night. At night he went into the garden to pray, and he prayed prolixious, he spent much time in prayer, how much? Because it is literally expressed, that he prayed there three several times,[385] and that returning to his disciples after his first prayer, and finding them asleep, said, _Could ye not watch with me one hour_,[386] it is collected that he spent three hours in prayer. I dare scarce ask thee whither thou wentest, or how thou disposedst of thyself, when it grew dark and after last night. If that time were spent in a holy recommendation of thyself to God, and a submission of thy will to his, it was spent in a conformity to him. In that time, and in those prayers, was his agony and bloody sweat. I will hope that thou didst pray; but not every ordinary and customary prayer, but prayer actually accompanied with shedding of tears and dispositively in a readiness to shed blood for his glory in necessary cases, puts thee into a conformity with him. About midnight he was taken and bound with a kiss, art thou not too conformable to him in that? Is not that too literally, too exactly thy case, at midnight to have been taken and bound with a kiss? From thence he was carried back to Jerusalem, first to Annas, then to Caiaphas, and (as late as it was) then he was examined and buffeted, and delivered over to the custody of those officers from whom he received all those irrisions, and violences, the covering of his face, the spitting upon his face, the blasphemies of words, and the smartness of blows, which that gospel mentions: in which compass fell that gallicinium, that crowing of the cock which called up Peter to his repentance. How thou passedst all that time thou knowest. If thou didst any thing that needest Peter's tears, and hast not shed them, let me be thy cock, do it now. Now, thy Master (in the unworthiest of his servants) looks back upon thee, do it now. Betimes, in the morning, so soon as it was day, the Jews held a council in the high priest's hall, and agreed upon their evidence against him, and then carried him to Pilate, who was to be his judge; didst thou accuse thyself when thou wakedst this morning, and wast thou content even with false accusations, that is, rather to suspect actions to have been sin, which were not, than to smother and justify such as were truly sins? Then thou spentest that hour in conformity to him; Pilate found no evidence against him, and therefore to ease himself, and to pass a compliment upon Herod, tetrarch of Galilee, who was at that time at Jerusalem (because Christ, being a Galilean, was of Herod's jurisdiction), Pilate sent him to Herod, and rather as a madman than a malefactor; Herod remanded him (with scorn) to Pilate, to proceed against him; and this was about eight of the clock. Hast thou been content to come to this inquisition, this examination, this agitation, this cribration, this pursuit of thy conscience; to sift it, to follow it from the sins of thy youth to thy present sins, from the sins of thy bed to the sins of thy board, and from the substance to the circumstance of thy sins? That is time spent like thy Saviour's. Pilate would have saved Christ, by using the privilege of the day in his behalf, because that day one prisoner was to be delivered, but they choose Barabbas; he would have saved him from death, by satisfying their fury with inflicting other torments upon him, scourging and crowning with thorns, and loading him with many scornful and ignominious contumelies; but they regarded him not, they pressed a crucifying. Hast thou gone about to redeem thy sin, by fasting, by alms, by disciplines and mortifications, in way of satisfaction to the justice of God? That will not serve, that is not the right way; we press an utter crucifying of that sin that governs thee: and that conforms thee to Christ. Towards noon Pilate gave judgment, and they made such haste to execution as that by noon he was upon the cross. There now hangs that sacred body upon the cross, rebaptized in his own tears, and sweat, and embalmed in his own blood alive. There are those bowels of compassion which are so conspicuous, so manifested, as that you may see them through his wounds. There those glorious eyes grew faint in their sight, so as the sun, ashamed to survive them, departed with his light too. And then that Son of God, who was never from us, and yet had now come a new way unto us in assuming our nature, delivers that soul (which was never out of his Father's hands) by a _new way_, a voluntary emission of it into his Father's hands; for though _to this God our Lord belonged these issues of death_, so that considered in his own contract, he must necessarily die, yet at no breach or battery which they had made upon his sacred body issued his soul; but _emisit_, he gave up the ghost; and as God breathed a soul into the first Adam, so this second Adam breathed his soul into God, into the hands of God.

There we leave you in that blessed dependency, to hang upon him that hangs upon the cross, there bathe in his tears, there suck at his wounds, and lie down in peace in his grave, till he vouchsafe you a resurrection, and an ascension into that kingdom which He hath prepared for you with the inestimable price of his incorruptible blood. Amen.

FOOTNOTES:

[347] Psalm cxv. 6.

[348] Psalm cxxxix. 6.

[349] Psalm cxviii. 23.

[350] Psalm c. 3.

[351] Isaiah, xxxvii. 3.

[352] Rom. vii. 24.

[353] Gen. vi. 14.

[354] Gen. iv. 1.

[355] John, xiv. 2.

[356] Matt. viii. 20.

[357] Heb. xiii. 14.

[358] Exod. xvii. 1.

[359] Gen. xlvii. 9.

[360] 2 Cor. v. 6.

[361] Job, x. 18, 19.

[362] Exod. xvi. 3.

[363] 1 Kings, xix. 4.

[364] Jonah, iv. 3.

[365] Rev. i. 18.

[366] 1 Cor. xv. 33.

[367] Acts, ii. 31; xiii. 35.

[368] Ver. 10.

[369] Job, xxiv. 20.

[370] Job, xxi. 23, 25, 26.

[371] Isaiah, xiv. 11.

[372] Heb. xi.

[373] De Civitate Dei, lib. xvii.

[374] Matt. i. 21.

[375] Luke, xxiv. 26.

[376] Cant. viii. 6.

[377] _Ibid._ 7.

[378] Gen. iii. 15.

[379] Luke, xii. 50.

[380] Heb. xii. 2.

[381] Matt. xx. 22.

[382] Psalm cxvi. 12.

[383] Matt. xvii. 3; Mark, ix. 4.

[384] Luke, ix. 31.

[385] Luke, xxii. 41.

[386] Matt. xxvi. 40.

Transcribers Notes:

I corrected an error in Footnote 1. The original book said Matt. xiii. 16, which I corrected to verse 15.

I corrected an error in Footnote 65. The original book said Jer., which I corrected to Lam.

End of Project Gutenberg's Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, by John Donne

Donne's Sermons: Selected Passages (Logan Pearsall Smith, 1919)

# Donne's Sermons: Selected Passages (Logan Pearsall Smith, 1919)

Donne s

Sermons

SERMONS

Selected 'Passages

With An Essay

WITH AN ESSAY by

Logan Pearsall Smith

®^'

OXFORD

At the Clarendon Press

M Dcccc Xix

M DCCCC XIX

6X 5/33

f '? / ^

Contents Page

CONTENTS

PAGE

I. The Preacher ....

I

2. When I consider

2

3, I am Not all Here

3

4. Imperfect Prayers

4

5. Powers and Principalities

5

6. Infecting God ....

6

7. Forgiveness of Sins

7

8. Forgive my Sins. , ' .

7

9. Let Me Wither ....

9

10. Donne and the Worm .

10

II. Preaching Consolation ,

II

12. The Beauty of the Soul

. 13

13. Spiritual Liberality

. 14

14. Eagle's Wings ....

. 15

15. The Hour-Glass

. 17

16. Preaching .....

18

17. Applause .....

. 19

18. The Bellman ....

20

19. Favourite Scriptures .

21

20. The Psalms ....

. 23

21. Sanctified Passions

.24

22. Style and Language

. 26

23. Style otthe Holy Ghost

. 28

24. Compliments . . . . .

. 28

25. Lying at Aix . , . . .

■ 30

26. Farewell on Going to Germany .

• 31

27. The Vicar of St. Dunstan's .

. 34

28. Funeral Sermon on Magdalen Herbert,

Lady Dan-

vers, 1627 ....

• 35

29. Death of Elizabeth and Accession of Ja

mes I . 47

VI

Contents.

30. The Gunpowder Plot ......

31. Preached to the Honourable Company of the

Virginian Plantation, 1622

32. The Mission of England

33. James I

34. Death of James I

35. The Plague, 1625

36. Difficult Times .

37. Polemical Preaching

38. The World Decays

39. Imperfection

40. Man.

41. Afflictions .

42. Discontent

43. The World a House

44. Mundus Mare .

45. The IndiflFerence of Nature

46. Wealth

47. A London Merchant

48. Sickness

49. Public Opinion .

50. Joy .

51. Women

52. Cosmetics .

53. The Skin .

54. Mud Walls

55. Ignorance .

56. The Imperfection of Knowledge

57. Change of Mind

58. Reasons and Faith

59. True Knowledge

60. Terrible Things

61. The Fate of the Heathen

62. The Church a Company

63. God Proceeds Legally

64. The Church

65. Reverence in Church .

66. Going to Church

PAGE

50

Contents.

Vll

67.

68. 69. 70.

71- 72.

73- 74- 75- 76.

77. 78.

79- 80. 81. 82.

83. 84.

85. 86. 87.

90.

91- 92.

93- 94- 95. 96.

97- 98.

99- 100,

lOI.

102 103 104

Prayer

Prayer

The Time of Prayer

At Table and Bed

Unconscious Prayer

Sermons .

New Doctrines .

Papist and Puritan

Theological Dissensions

Despair

The Sociableness of God

God a Circle

God's Mirror ,

God's Names

God's Mercies .

God not Cruel .

The Voice of God

God's Language .

God's Anger

God's Faults

God's Judgements

Terrible Things

God's Malediction

God's Power

Access to God .

The Image of God in Man

Man God's Enemy

The Atheist

The Angels

The Devil.

The Creation

The Heavens and Earth

The Creation of a Harmonious World

God and Adam and Eve . The World since the Fall . Silkworms . . Original Sin . Original Sin

PAGE 121 122 122 124 125 126 129 130 131 133 133 134 135 135 136 140 140 142 144 144

147 148 149 150

153

154

157 159 161 162 163 164 165 166 168

Vlll

Contents.

105. 106. [07. [08. 109. 10. [II. 12.

13- 14.

[15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

[20. 121.

[22.

123. [24. [25. [26. [27. [28. [29. [30.

31-

[32.

'33- '34- '35- .36.

'37- 138.

'39- f4o. 141. r42.

The Heart of the Sinner

Light Sins

The Sin of Reason

Delight in Evil

Excuses

Rebuke of Sin

Names of Sins

Pride

Covetousness

Blasphemy

The Burden of

The Sinner

The Sorrows of the Wicked

The Sins of Memory .

The Eye of God

The World Drowned in Sin

The Hand of God

The Sick Soul

Sleep

The Gate of Death

Our Prison

All must Die

Death Inevitable

The Expectation of Death

The Death-bed .

The Death of Ecstasy .

The Dead with Us

Mourning .

A Quiet Grave .

Eternal Damnation

Death of the Good and the Bad Man

The Northern Passage

The Resurrection

The Awakening .

The Resurrection of the Body

The Last Day

The Day of Judgement

Joy .

Contents.

143. The Joy of Heaven

144. Little Stars

145. Heirs of Heaven .

146. Seeing God

147. The Sight of God

148. The State of Glory

149. Justice

150. Knowledge in Heaven

151. Eternity .

152. Eternity ,

153. Eternity .

154. Joy in Heaven

155. Donne's Last Sermon

Ix Page

IX

PAGE

219 221 221 222 224 227 230 233

235 23s 236

238

r:^'^^^^zs2

Frontispiece

Portrait of the Author in his Shroud : the frontispiece to Death's Duel 1632

NOTE

I REFER In my notes to the three folios of Donne's Sermons as I, II, and III respectively. I is the first folio, LXXX Sermons^ 1640 ; II is Fifty Sermons, 1649 ; III is XXVI Sermons, 1660. The text of each passage is taken from the first appearance of the sermon which contains it in print, whether in the folios, or in the earHer pubhshed quartos of separate sermons printed in Donne's lifetime, or shortly after his death. The original punctuation has been preserved ; and also the original spelling, except in the use of ' i ' for ' j ', of * u ' for * v ' and vice versa, and of contractions for ' m ' or ' n '. I refer to Professor Grierson's edition of Donne's Poems {The Poems of John Donne, edited by Herbert J. C. Grierson, M.A., Oxford, at the Clarendon Press, 191 2) as Poems ; to The Life and Letters of John Donne, by Edmund Gosse (London, William Heinemann, 1899), as Gosse ; to John Donne, by Augustus Jessopp, D.D. (Methuen and Co., 1897), as Jessopp. Spearing refers to Miss Spearing's 'A Chronological Arrangement of Donne's Sermons ' (Modern Languages Review, vol. viii, 191 3) ; Coleridge, to Coleridge's ' Notes on Donne ', pub- lished in 7he Literary Remains of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, collected and arranged by Henry Nelson Coleridge, 1838, vol. iii. C. and T. J as. I, and C. and T. Charles I, refer

xii Note.

to The Court and Times of James the First (1848), and The Court and Times of Charles the First (1848). The references to Donne's Devotions are to the first edition of 1624. Ramsay refers to Miss Ramsay's Les Doctrines medievales chez Donne, le Poete metaphysicien de VAngle- terre (Oxford University Press, 19 17). I must express my special thanks to Mr. Edmund Gosse, C.B,, for his kindness in lending me a number of very rare first editions of Donne's sermons from his collection of Donne's works.

Introduction

INTRODUCTION

THE remarkable and somewhat enigmatic figure of John Donne is one that has attracted a good deal of attention in recent years ; his Hfe has been studied, his poems and letters carefully edited, his character analysed, and his position as a poet acutely debated. His harshness, his crabbed and often frigid way of writing, his forced conceits, his cynicism and sensuahty, are extremely repellent to some readers ; while to others his sublety, his reahsm, and a certain modern and intimate quaHty in his poems, illuminated as they are with splendid flashes of imaginative fire, possess an extraordinary interest and fascination. There are people who hate Donne ; there are others who love him, but there are very few who have read his poems and remain quite indifferent to him. His character is still a puzzle, his reputation as a poet, echpsed for a long time and only revived in our own day, is by no means yet the subject of final agreement.

In spite of this modern interest in Donne, and the study which has been devoted to his works, there is one aspect of them which, until recently, has received no very adequate attention. In addition to his poems, his letters, and a few minor prose pieces, Donne left behind him an immense body of theological writings. By birth and

xiv Introduction.

hy the tradition of his family a Roman Catholic, and for that reason shut out in his youth from the paths of secular ambition which had so great an attraction for him, he was of necessity much preoccupied with theo- logical considerations ; and it was not till after much study of controversial divinity that he succeeded in convincing himself of the truth of the Anghcan position, which he finally made his own, and which, even in his secular days, he emphatically defended. When at the age of forty-two, after long experience of poverty and many worldly disappointments, he found all other paths of preferment closed to him, and at last, after much hesitation, took religious orders, he then began that career as a great divine and preacher which, until the revival of interest in his poetry, remained his principal claim to remembrance. But his fame as a preacher has been this long time fame at second hand ; it is due to Izaak Walton's descriptions of his sermons, rather than to any reading of the sermons themselves. The very quantity, indeed, of his sermons — and no Anglican divine of the period has left behind him such a number — has discouraged students from thorough study of them ; and, indeed, to read these great folio volumes is a task not lightly to be undertaken. But it is not only the mere bulk and body of these folios, the great number and length of Donne's sermons, which daunts the reader ; there is much in the writing itself which renders it diffi- cult and distasteful to the modern mind. In the first place sermons themselves, and especially old sermons, have fallen somewhat out of fashion ; they are not often read now, and the collected and repubhshed editions

Introduction. xv

of the great seventeenth century divines rest for the most part unopened on our shelves. People read novels, biographies, books of travel, social and political treatises instead of the sermons in which their grandfathers and grandmothers delighted : Hooker, Barrow, South, Tillotson are names indeed, but Httle more than names to most of us ; and even so great a writer of English prose, so exquisite an artist as Jeremy Taylor, is familiar to us only in extracts and selected passages. For modern theologians this old divinity, with its obsolete learning and forgotten controversies, has little more than an archaeological interest ; while to the more secular- minded, the old divines, whose severe brows and square faces meet our eyes when we open their great folios, seem, with their imposed dogmas, their heavy and obsolete methods of exposition and controversy, almost as if they belonged to some remote geological era of human thought. We are reminded of Taine's image of them as giant mastodons or megatheria, slowly winding their scaly backs through the primeval slime, and meeting each other, armed with syllogisms and bristling with texts, in theological battle, to tear the flesh from one another's flanks with their great talons, and cover their opponents with filth in their efforts to destroy them.

And yet these old divines were great men and great writers, their voices enthralled the best and wisest of their own generation, and it is a misfortune for their fame, and a misfortune for our literature, that they put their wisdom and observation and deep feeling, their great gifts of imagination, and their often exquisite mastery of the art of expression into the hortatory

xvi Introduction.

and controversial form of the sermon which time has rendered obsolete.

It must be admitted that all the reasons, good or bad, which keep us from reading writers like Jeremy Taylor and South, face us at once, and seem even more valid, when we open a volume of Donne's sermons. All that has ceased to interest, all that actually repels us in the old theology, the- scholastic divinity, the patristic learn- ing, the torturing of texts, the interpretation of old prophesies, the obsolete controversies and refutation of forgotten heresies, the insistence on moral commonplaces, the intolerance of human frailty, and the menaces of fearful judgement on it — ^with all these stock subjects, Donne, like his contemporaries, filled his sermons. But his case is even worse than theirs ; not only as a theolo- gian was he of an older breed, more remote and medieval than Jeremy Taylor or South, he had also, personal to himself, the unhappy faculty of developing to their utmost the faults of any form of literary expression he adopted ; and when he abandoned verse for sermon- writing, every defect of this kind of composition, every- thing that most offends us in the old preachers and sound expositors, was carried by him to a pitch which gives him a bad eminence over the most unreadable of them all.

That sermons like Donne's should have held great congregations spellbound seems astonishing, not only to the secular mind, but to theologians themselves. One of Donne's most distinguished successors at the Deanery of St. Paul's, Dean Milman, has written of them :

' It is difficult for a Dean of our rapid and restless days to imagine, when he surveys the massy foUos of Donne's

Introduction. xvii

sermons — each sermon spreads out over many pages — a vast congregation in the Cathedral or at Paul's Cross, listening not only with patience but with absorbed interest, with unflagging attention, even with delight and rapture, to these interminable disquisitions, to us teeming with laboured obscurity, false and misplaced wit, fatiguing antitheses. However set off, as by all accounts they were, by a most graceful and impressive dehvery, it is astonishing to us that he should hold a London congregation enthralled, unwearied, unsatiated. Yet there can be no doubt that this was the case. And this congregation consisted, both of the people down to the lowest, and of the most noble, wise, accomphshed of that highly intellectual age. They sat, even stood, undisturbed, except by their own murmurs of admiration, sometimes by hardly suppressed tears.' ^

It is only necessary to open a volume of Donne's sermons to find a justification for his successor's criticism. For instance, in preaching to Charles I at Whitehall on the text ' In my Father's house are many mansions, if it were not so, I would have told you ', he begins :

' There are occasions of Controversies of all kinds in this one Verse ; And one is, whether this be one Verse or no ; For as there are Doctrinall Controversies, out of the sense and interpretation of the words, so are there Grammaticall differences about the Distinction, and Interpunction of them : some Translations differing thereinn from the Originall (as the Originall Copies are distinguished, and interpuncted now) and some differing from one another. The first Translation that was, that into Syriaque, as it is expressed by Tremellius, renders these words absolutely, precisely as our two Translations doe ; And, as our two Translations doe, applies the

' Annals of S. PauVs Cathedral, Henry Hart Milman, D.D., 2nd ed., 1869, p. 328.

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xviii Introduction.

second clause and proposition, Si quo minus, if it were not so, I would have told you, as in affirmation, and confirma- tion of the former, In domo Patris, In my Fathers house there are many Mansions, For, ij it were not so I would have told you. But then, as both our Translations doe, the Syriaque also admits into this Verse a third clause and proposition, Vade parare, I goe to -prepare you a place. Now Bez.a doth not so ; Piscator doth not so ; They determine this Verse in those two propositions which constitute our Text, In my Fathers house, etc. And then they let fall the third proposition, as an inducement, and inchoation of the next Verse.' ^

So the sermon goes inexorably on, immense paragraph after paragraph filled with quotations from the Fathers and quibbling controversies with Roman Catholic theologianSjtill suddenly the page hghts up with a descrip- tion of the unending day of eternity unsurpassed in our literature, how ' all the foure Monarchies, with all their thousands of yeares. And all the powerfuU Kings, and all the beautifull Queenes of this world, were but as a bed of flowers, some gathered at six, some at seaven, some at eight, All in one Morning, in respect of this Day ', and how, during all the time that had passed since the Creation, in this timeless mansion of Eternity, ' there was never heard quarter clock to strike, never seen minute glasse to turne '.^

Contrasts almost as surprising as this meet us in the sermons of other seventeenth century preachers, and here and there we come on passages of poignant expression and lyrical or sombre beauty clothed in the noblest language. For while the sermon, regarded merely as

1 I, p. 737. * See No. 153.

Introduction. xix

a form of literary expression, has undoubted disadvantages which render the sermons of one age difficult for the next age to appreciate, yet on the other hand this form of expression is one — since its subject matter is nothing less than the whole of life — ^which gives the widest possible scope to a great preacher. He can pour his whole soul into his sermon, his hopes, fears, and self-accusations, the furthest flights of his imagination, the ripest results of his philosophic meditations, all the wisdom of mellow experience, and even the most amusing details of satiric observation. The very circumstances of his dehvery, the ceremonious solemnity of the church and pulpit, the great responsibihty of the occasion, give a nobihty to his utterance ; and the presence of the congregation, the need to speak directly to the hearts and minds of men and women, lends a certain dramatic intensity to all he says. Such circumstances, while they are full of danger for an insincere and rhetorical preacher, provide the most splendid opportunities for one endowed with earnest purpose and a sincere imagination. The exhortations of such a preacher can hardly help being noble in expres- sion ; and it is in the sermon therefore that we find some of the highest achievements of English prose — in the sermon, or in prophetic or didactic or even political eloquence written with the same high impulse and inspira- tion. For great prose needs a great subject matter, needs great themes and a high spectacular point of vision, and solemn and clear and steadfast conception of life and its meaning. It must handle with deep earnest- ness the most profound themes, Good and Evil, Desire and Disillusion, the briefness of Life and the mystery of

b2

XX Introduction.

Death — the universal material and the great common- places of human thought in all ages. Such a mood is the mood of religion, in whatever dogmas it may be clothed ; and it is the rehgious w^riter who can most impressively touch those great organ stops of grave emotion which move us in the highest achievements of prose literature.

The seventeenth century divines, moreover, with all the lumber which they inherited from the past, inherited much also that gives an enduring splendour to their works. In the doctrines of their faith they found a com- plete conception of existence, a scheme elaborated in all its details, and rich in memories and associations accumu- lated from the dawn of history. The Creation of the world, the Fall of Man, all the vicissitudes of the Chosen People, the sins and punishments of their Kings, the vehemence of their Prophets and their supernatural fore- sight, and the great central tragedy and hope of the Redemption — these were themes that came to their hands elaborated by the Fathers of the Church and by a whole succession of medieval writers ; and now, just at this time, the Sacred Books which were the original sources of this deposit of Christian history and doctrine had been re-translated and clothed afresh in an unsur- passable beauty of language.

This noble diction, this intensity, and what we might almost call inspiration of language, which gives so poetic a colouring to the English version of the Scriptures, was not the achievement of one man, but almost the universal birthright of the time : with the Ehzabethan dramatists and translators, the preachers and theological writers had their share in this great utterance, which, whether

Introduction. xxi

due to linguistic causes which ceased to operate, or to an intensity of poetic vision which afterwards vanished, certainly grows fainter and thinner and gradually dies away as the seventeenth century advances, and the age of theology is superseded by the age of Reason and common sense.

If Donne's sermons are full, as we have said, of all that in the old divinity which has become distasteful to us, if he surpasses the preachers of that period in their faults and drawbacks, he shares also in their achievements, and indeed in many ways he overtops them all. Lost in the great crabbed, unread, unreadable fohos of his sermons, these ' volumes of rehgion and mountains of piety ', there are pages and passages of great and surprising beauty, which are nevertheless entirely unknown to English readers. It is indeed somewhat curious that with the growing recognition of Donne's merits as a poet, so little attention has been paid to the excellence of his prose. Equal in power and beauty to that of Sir Thomas Browne or Jeremy Taylor, and in passionate intensity surpassing even these great writers, it is almost un- represented in our prose anthologies ; and indeed, the best of these, Basil Montagu's Selections^ includes no specimen of his writing. But the explanation of this is after all a simple one ; unlike Jeremy Taylor or Sir Thomas Browne, Donne was famous first of all as a poet, and save for his little-known Devotions, he wrote no small book, no Holy Dying or Urn Burial in which he gave evidence of his powers as a prose writer. His shorter prose pieces, his Paradoxes and Biathanatos, and his elaborate letters do not represent him at his best ; it is only here and there

xxii Introduction.

in isolated passages of his sermons that he put forth his full strength ; and his best prose, not being therefore easily accessible, has almost entirely escaped notice, and few even of the most enthusiastic readers of Donne's verse are aware that however highly they estimate his merits as a poet, he is equally worthy of fame as a prose writer — that, indeed, his mastery of the means of expres- sion was perhaps even greater in prose than in poetry ; was less impeded by those defects of technique and tem- perament which kept him from reaching the highest level of poetic achievement.

The object of this volume is to remedy if possible'this neglect. After reading Donne's sermons more than once, I have chosen for reprinting those passages which especially impressed me, and which I think will be of interest to modern and secular-minded readers like myself. Any volume of selections from a voluminous author must be always unsatisfactory, for there are many canons of choice, many sieves for the sifting, by means of which such a selection can be made. Donne preached his sermons of course for the purpose of exhorta- tion and religious edification ; while there is much in his theology and controversial preaching which is now out of date, he nevertheless stated the main doctrines of the English Church with such moderation and such learning, that a selection of passages from his sermons might make a useful volume of Anglican apologetics ; and it was indeed with this object in view that they were reprinted eighty years ago by an Anglican divine, Henry Alford (afterwards Dean of Canterbury), in whose opinion they were * one of the earliest and best expositions of the

Introduction. xxiii

divinity of our English Church ' — ' a genuine body of orthodox divinity (in the best sense of the words) not to be found, perhaps, in any other English theologian '.^ Then, too, as a preacher Donne was a morahst, and from his denunciations of evil and his exhortations to repentance might be made a handbook of edification which could have its use and value.^ Or again, taking Donne as a representa- tive mind of his period, one might use his sermons for illustrating the history of human thought, and by selecting typical pages from them give a picture, not only of the theological conceptions of the time, but of the philosophy then current, and the main ideas that were accepted by the cultivated men of that period. The recent and learned volume of Miss Ramsay, Les Doctrines medievales chez. Donne, le Poete metaphysicien de VAngleterre,^ with its copious citations from Donne's sermons, has shown how great would be the historical interest of such a selec- tion, and what a treasure-house can be found in Donne's writings of passages illustrating the thought and specula- tion of the early seventeenth century in England.

The purpose underlying this selection is not, however, theological, didactic, nor even historical. It is concerned with Donne as a man, as an artist and writer, with his personal accent and speaking voice ; first of all with the man himself, and only in the second place with the doctrines he expounded and the age he lived in. When

> The Works of John Donne, D.D. With a Memoir of his Life, by Henry Aiford, M.A., 1839, vol. i, pp. v, xxi.

* Such a selection of edifying passages, Selections frotn the Works of John Donne, D.D., was published, with no editor's name, by D. A. Tal- boys, at Oxford, 1840.

* Oxford University Press, 191 7.

xxiv Introduction.

Donne took orders in the English Church the doctrines and apologetics and controversial positions of that Church were so to speak imposed upon him ; he accepted them without demur, and as Professor Grierson says,

' In Donne's scholastic, ultra-logical treatment, the rigid skeleton of seventeenth century theology is, at times, presented in all its sternness and unattractiveness. From the extremest deductions, he is saved by the moderation which was the key-note of his church, and by his own good sense and deep sympathy with human nature. But Donne is most eloquent when, escaping from dogmatic minutiae and controversial " points ", he appeals directly to the heart and conscience. A reader may care little for the details of seventeenth century theology and yet enjoy without quaHfication Donne's fervid and original thinking, and the figurative richness, and splendid harmonies of his prose in passages of argu- ment, of exhortation and of exalted meditation. It is Donne the poet who transcends every disadvantage of theme and method, and an outworn fashion in wit and learning. There are sentences in the sermons which, in beauty of imagery and cadence, are not surpassed by anything he wrote in verse, or by any prose of the century from Hooker's to Sir Thomas Browne's.' ^

It is these passages which Professor Grierson so well describes, passages which illustrate what he calls ' the unique quality, the weight, fervour and wealth, of Donne's eloquence ', that I have first of all chosen, and any one who may be inchned to think this praise of Donne's prose exaggerated he should read — and above all, read aloud — some of the following pages, the description for instance of God's bounty,^ which Professor Saintsbury has » Cambyidge History of Literature, iv. 220-1. " F« 139-

Introduction. xxv

called unsurpassed, perhaps never equalled for the beauty of its rhythm and the Shakespearean magnificence of its diction ; or the great peroration on ' falling out of the hands of God ', in which Donne sums up in a sombre and terrible sentence — one of the longest and most splendid sentences in the English language — the horror of the deprivation of God's love, and of eternal banish- ment from His presence. ^

The great preachers of this, as of other periods, inherited certain set subjects and splendid common- places which it was their practice to repeat and elaborate and adorn. The Mercy of God, the Sinfulness of Man, the vanity of this world and the sorrows of the wicked, the sinner's death-bed, the Day of Judgement, the eternal torments of Hell, and the glory and blessedness of the saints in Heaven — these great themes formed the culminating points in their sermons, and were subjects v/hich called for all their powers. Donne's own tempera- ment and experience, his melancholy cast of thought and his mystical sense of another world, enabled him to treat many of these great themes and religious pieces with a vividness of feeling which removes them far from the region of the conventional and commonplace.

The great subject of Sin especially preoccupied him ; his poet's sensibility and sensuous nature — and Donne is the most sensual of all the great English poets — made the allurements of the flesh very real to him ; he knew all about temptation and the weakness of man's moral nature ; like St. Augustine, with whom he has been more than once compared, the memory of his own transgres- * pp. 208-10.

xxvi Introduction.

sions and of the excesses of his youth was always with him ; and his treatment of the psychology of sin, his descriptions of the ' various and vagabond heart of the sinner ', are written with a modern subtlety of analysis, a frankness of self-confession, a curious mingUng of asceticism and regret, which we find nowhere else except perhaps in the writings of St. Augustine, and which must hold the attention of the least theological reader ; while his denunciations of judgements on sin, and his accounts of the sinner's death-bed, ' the clangour of the angels* trumpets and the horrour of the ringing bell ', are inspired by the feelings of one to whom these judgements and these terrors are very real and very dreadful.

Another of his special themes is the great theme of Death. Donne's mind was in many ways essentially medieval, and in no way more so than in his medieval sense of death's horror. Even in his profane and secular poetry we note a preoccupation with this thought ; and when as a preacher it was his duty to treat of Death in his sermons he spared his hearers none of the most macabre of his imaginations about it. There was an almost morbid love of ugliness in his curious temperament, a delight like that of Swift in what is repulsive and even loathsome, and in his sermons on death he could freely indulge his taste for the grotesque and the disgusting, for dreadful details of the grave's horrors, for decay and putrefaction, and — ^what was almost an hallucination with him — the activities of the loathsome worm. Unpleasant in their details as are most of these great passages, there is a kind of splendid horror about them which has made me include many — I hope not too many

Introduction. xxvii

— of them in this selection ; they are very characteristic of Donne, and indeed his last great sermon, ' Death's Duell ', preached in his final illness not long before he died, is one great and unrelieved threnody on the horror and majesty of Death and the universal dominion of the worm.

Donne's third great theme was God, his omnipotence, his mercy, his wrath, and his terrible justice ; and so real and vivid was his sense of God and the glory of the beatific vision, that unlike other preachers of the time he felt no need to terrify his congregations with the flames and physical horrors of Hell — to his religious mind the deprivation of God's love was in itself Hell, and no fires and tortures could add to that punishment. Save, therefore, as an eternal banishment from God's presence, Donne does not speak of Hell ; but the description of Heaven, the glory of Heaven, was a theme that called forth his highest powers of eloquence and impassioned imagination.

Although Donne had studied the ' new philosophy ', and was aware of the discoveries of Copernicus, and could, for the purposes of metaphor and fancy, make a literary use of these conceptions, his mind still had its habitation in the smaller, earth-centred Ptolemaic creation ; the full realization of these new discoveries, the sense of the im- mensity of space and the unimportance of this earth in its unmeasured vastness, was a more modern way of feel- ing in which Donne had no share — which belongs later on in the seventeenth century to the time of Pascal. But contrasted with his imperfect realization of the infinity of space, his sense of the infinity of time was extremely vivid ;

xxviii Introduction.

the contrast between eternity and the briefness of human life he felt and described with sombre and ecstatic impres- siveness. Eternity, the eternity of God and Heaven, is a theme to which he continually recurs, and which sheds a strange, still atmosphere over his descriptions of the timeless existence of the Blessed in their heavenly abodes.

The circumstances of Donne's early hfe, the strong Roman CathoHc traditions of his family, and the atmo- sphere of Roman Catholic devotion in which he was educated, were no hindrance, but rather a help to him as an Anglican preacher ; and although, as duty and perhaps conviction compelled him, he denounced what he considered the corruptions of Roman Catholicism as vigorously as his fellow divines, yet in his heart there lingered a certain love of the older faith, of stately ceremonial and ancient rites and personal cults and devotions, which gives a warmth, an unction, an un- protestant glow of eloquence to his preaching.

As a poet Donne seems to have adopted a certain harsh and crabbed way of writing, in revolt against the melli- fluence of the EHzabethan taste ; his poems show here and there that he could, if he wished, touch those harp- strings of sweet music ; but they also show, only too abundantly, that in this soft harmony he could not find the medium for the personal expression he desired. This crabbedness shows itself, too, in his letters and his earlier prose writing, and also in the uninspired portions of his sermons. But when he was most in earnest, when he came to treat with passionate seriousness some great theme of faith or morals, his wilfulness of language fell from him ; and in his attempt to bring his message home to the

Introduction. xxix

hearts of his congregation he availed himself without stint of his own gifts as a poet, and all the music and splendour of the great contemporary speech.

Donne, indeed, often makes use of musical metaphors when he speaks of preaching ; the preacher, he says, is a watchman, placed on a high tower to sound a trumpet ; his preaching was the trumpet's voice, it was thunder, it was the beating of a drum, the tolling of a bell of warn- ing, it was ' a lovely song, sung to an instrument ' ; the preacher should not speak with ' uncircumcised lips or an extemporal or irreverent or over-homely and vulgar language ' ; his style should be modelled on that of the Holy Ghost, whose style was ' a dilligent, and an artificial style ', and who in penning the Scriptures ' dehghts himself, not only with a propriety, but with a delicacy, and harmony, and melody of language ; with height of Metaphors, and other figures, which may work greater impressions upon the Readers '.^ In addition to this august model, the style of the Church Fathers formed Donne's other model in his preaching, and he more than once calls attention to their ' elegant phrases ', their ' cadences and allusions and assimilations ', to Jerome's epistles ' full of heavenly meditation and curious expres- tions ', to Augustine's study to ' make his language sweet and harmonious ', and St. Bernard's effort to exalt * devotion from the melodious fall of words '.

Coleridge, in his curious notes on Donne's sermons, remarks on the patristic leaven, the rhetorical extra- vagance, the taste for forced and fantastic analogies, which Donne derived from his study of the early Fathers ;

1 No. 22.

XXX Introduction.

and, indeed, the influence of these models, falling in as it did with his natural taste for ' wit ' and extrava- gant conceits, resulted often in far-fetched and fantastic passages ; and there are whole sermons built up on one metaphor, on blood or water or tears or kisses, and even on vomit and circumcision, in which one image is turned and twisted and elaborated and swollen out with figurative, moral, and mystical meanings, grotesquely adorned with medical analogies and legal jargon and scholastic quibbles and rabbinical speculations, until we share to the full Dean Milman's amazement at the taste of those immense and attentive congregations, and are not surprised to hear that noblemen and gentlemen were taken up for dead, after listening to one of these hour-long conceits and overwhelming metaphors.

But then again this cumbrous style takes fire, this vast edifice of elaborate adornftients blazes up into a splendid illumination ; and remote as we are in time and taste from the audiences which stood for hours in the open air at Paul's Cross, or filled the choir of old St. Paul's, we share, if but for a moment^ the delight which drew those ancient crowds to hear these products of what one con- temporary called his ' Giant phancie ',i to witness the gleams of what another described as that ' awfull fire ' ^ which burned in the clear brain of the great preacher.

But what compels our attention most in these discourses is when Donne ' preaches himself ' in them, speaks of his past life, his sins and his remorse for them, of his present temptations, of his fears for his future fate, or his hopes of Heaven. ' When I consider what I was in my parents * Poems/i, 2l^9^ * Ibid., p. 371.

Introduction. xxxi

loynes ', he begins, ' when I consider what I am now, . . . an aged childe, a gray-headed Infant, and but the ghost of mine own youth, When I consider what I shall be at last, by the hand of death, in my grave ' ^ — it is in passages like this, or in his forecasts of his own death-bed, ' when everlasting darknesse shall have an inchoation in the present dimnesse of mine eyes, and the everlasting gnashing in the present chattering of my teeth,' ^ that Donne becomes most impressive, and we are best able to understand the sombre fascination of his preaching.

These personal passages have often for us another interest : we find in them a curious modern note or quahty which we find almost nowhere else in the literature of that age. For in spite of his medieval cast of thought Donne was in some ways the most modern writer of his period ; in his poems and in his strange, feverish Medita- tions there is a subtlety of self-analysis, an awareness of the workings of his own mind, which seems to belong to the nineteenth rather than to the seventeenth century. We hear him confessing, for instance, in one of his ser- mons, the wanderings of his mind in his strongest devo- tions, and how in th6 midst of prayer he is distracted by the noise of a fly, the rattling of a coach^; or how, while he is preaching, he is partly in the pulpit, partly in his hbrary at home ; partly expounding his text, and partly thinking what his congregation will say to each other of his sermon when it is finished.*

Donne was in the habit of drawing a distinction, in his letters, between the Jack Donne of his earUer Hfe

• No. 2. * No. 126.

' No. 4. * No. 3.

xxxii Introduction.

and Dr. Donne, the Dean and grave divine and preacher. But, as he himself said, men do not change their passions, but only the objects of them ; God does not take men from their calling, but mends them in it ; He loves renovations, not innovations. Just as each of the authors of the books of Scripture, whether they were courtiers or shepherds or fishermen, kept the idiom and the interests of their profession in their sacred writings, so the regenerate soul, whether amorous, ambitious, or covetous, could find in God ' a fit subject, and just occasion to exercise the same affection piously, and rehgiously, which had before so sinfully transported, and possesst it '.^ So Donne retained his old passions and ways of thought ; but whereas he had formerly, as he himself says of St. Augustine, made sonnets of his sins, he now made sermons of them. Dr. Donne was still Jack Donne, though sanctified and transformed, and those who have learned to know the secular poet will find in the writer of religious prose the same character- istics, the subtle, modern self-analytic mind moving in a world of medieval thought, the abstract, frigid scholastic intellect and the quickest senses, the forced conceits and passionate sincerity, the harsh utterance and the snatches of angel's music — in fact all that has attracted or perhaps repelled them in the author of the ' love-songs and satiric weeds ', the sensual elegies and rugged verse-letters of his earlier period. They will also often find the man of the world beneath the surplice, with his appreciation of worldly values, rank and circumstance and office, and that 'inward joy and outward reverence and dignity that

» No. 21.

Introduction. xxxiii

accompanies riches ' i ; the courtier who had the coujtier's desire for the favour of great persons, and who pictured Heaven as a royal court, and God as a king in his palace ; who described earthly kings as metaphorical gods, and pious courts as copies of the Communion of the Saints.

In the sermons also they will find that broad humanity, that sympathy with all kinds of people, that good com- mon sense, which made Donne a reasonable human being, and moved him often to declare that religion was a serious but not a sullen thing, and a merry heart and a cheerful countenance a better way to God than dejection of spirit, and all the * sad remorses of the world '.^

A preacher or moralist often betrays himself indirectly, for he is apt to see his own faults in others, and to dwell, in his exhortations, on the temptations and weaknesses to which he is especially exposed. It is characteristic of Donne that he should so frequently inveigh against the sins of the senses, and especially of the eye, which he said was 'the devil's doore, before the ear'^; and charac- teristic also his frequent recurrence to the danger of remembering past sins — ' the sinfull remembrance of former sins, which is a dangerous rumination, and an unwholesome chawing of the cud '. ^ Another sin to which Donne frequently recurs is the sin of curiosity, the sin of the curious and subtle intellect, which, dissatis- fied with the ' solid and f undamentall ' doctrines necessary to salvation, longed for * birds of Paradise, unrevealcd mysteries out of Gods own bosom '.^ His reprobation

> ii, p. 416. ' in, p. 318. » i, p. 228.

* ii,p. 159. * i, p. 308.

2025-3 C

xxxiv Introduction.

of this unchastened curiosity, this presumption of men who ' being but worms will look into Heaven \^ was partly, no doubt, an attack on the rising tide of Puritan and schismatic speculation ; but it was also an indirect confession of the attraction, for his boundless intellectual curiosity, of the high and inexplicable problems of Christian metaphysics. Donne echoes Luther's denuncia- tion of the ' hatefull, damnable Monosyllable, How ' ^ ; again and again he warns his congregation against inquiries which were ' forc'd dishes of hot brains, and not sound meat ', ' spirituall zvantonnesses, and unlawful and dangerous dallyings with mysteries of Divinity ' ^ ; and yet again and again we find his own thoughts losing their way among mysteries above the reach of reason, the nature of the Trinity, Predestination, Election, Original Sin, many strange scholastic questions about the Angels, the Devil, and the possibility of his ultimate salvation, and such high, insoluble problems as for instance whether the Serpent, as many of the Fathers beheved, had feet and walked upright before the Fall.

Such was Donne as he reveals himself in his sermons, essentially in mind and temperament the same person as the poet, but turning his native gifts, and even his acquired stock of conceits and images, to new and sanctified uses. The mood resulting from this transformation has been well described by Professor Saintsbury as ' a mood in which the memory of bygone earthly delights blends inextricably with the present fervour of devotion, and which to a fancy resembling his own might suggest a temple of Aphrodite or Dionysus turned into a Christian » iii, p. 77, * i, p. 301. * ii, p. 36.

Introduction. xxxv

church, and served by the same priest as of old, with complete loyalty to his new faith, but with undying consciousness of the past '.^

Thus one tries to explain Donne's sermons and account for them in a satisfactory manner. And yet in these, as in his poems, there remains something baffling and enigmatic which still eludes our last analysis. Reading these old hortatory and dogmatic pages, the thought suggests itself that Donne is often saying something else, something poignant and personal, and yet, in the end, incommunicable to us. It sometimes seems as if he were using the time-honoured phrases of the accepted faith, its hope of heaven, and its terror of the grave, to express a vision of his own — a vision of life and death, of evil and horror and ecstasy — very different from that of other preachers ; and we are troubled as well as fascinated by the strange music which he blows through the sacred trumpets.

From the sermons themselves we can gather some impression of the effect in his own age of Donne's preach- ing, either at court, where he often preached before James I or Charles I,^ or at Lincoln's Inn, or at his parish church of St. Dunstan's, or in the open air at Paul's Cross, and above all before his ' great and curious audi- tories ' at St. Paul's, when the choir was so crowded that

'■ Professor Saintsbury in English Prose Selections, edited by Henry (>aik, 1894, ii, p. 85.

• It would appear that the court sermons, preached ' to the Nobility ' and the king, were sometimes open-air sermons. See C. and T. Jas. I, ii. 386 : ' the king came hither the 5th of this present, and the next day, being Palm Sunday, the lord archbishop preached at court, in the open- preaching place '.

C 2

xxxvi Introduction.

many of the poorer sort could not have seats, but must ' stand and thrust ', and where long murmurs of approval sometimes, he said, swallowed up one-quarter of his hour's sermon. 1

We have other and outside evidence, too, of his influence as a preacher, and his manner and appearance in the pulpit. A member of the Dutch embassy in England, Constantine Huyghens, writes of the ' wealth of his unequalled wit, and yet more incomparable eloquence in the pulpit '^ ; we read of the great concourse of noblemen and gentle- men at one of his sermons at Lincoln's Inn 'whereof two or three were endangered and taken up dead for the time, with the extreme press and thronging',^ of another sermon preached in the open air at Paul's Cross, which was listened to by ' the Lords of the Council and other honourable persons ' including the Archbishop of Canterbury, Bacon, the Lord Keeper, Sir Julius Caesar, the Master of the Rolls, Lord Arundel, Lord Southampton, and 'divers other great men '.*

Izaak Walton has described for us his manner in the pulpit,

* preaching the Word so, as shewed his own heart was possest with those very thoughts, and joyes that he labored to distill into others : A Preacher in earnest, weeping sometimes for his Auditory, sometimes with them : alwayes preaching to himself, like an Angel from a cloud, but in none ; carrying some, as St, Paul was, to Heaven in holy raptures, and inticing others by a sacred Art and Courtship to amend their lives ; here picturing a vice so as to make it ugly to those that

' No. 17. ' Quoted in Poems, ii, p. Ixxvii.

* See note to No. 70. * See note to No. 29.

Introduction. xxxvii

practised it ; and a vertue so, as to make it beloved even by those that lov'd it not ; and, all this with a most particular grace and an unexpressible addition of comeli- ness.' '

» 1

There are other evidences of the manner and effect of his preaching in the commendatory verses written at his death, in which mention is made of his ' speaking action ", 'pale looks, faint breath, and melting phrases'.

Mee thinkes I see him in the pulpit standing.

Not eares, or eyes, but all mens hearts commanding.

Where wee that heard him, to our selves did faine

Golden Chrysostome was alive againe ;

And never were we weari'd, till we saw

His houre (and but an houre) to end did draw.

How did he shame the doctrine-men,^

one poet writes, and another :

thy one houre did treate The thousand mazes of the hearts deceipt ; Thou didst pursue our lov'd and subtill sinne, Through all the foldings wee had wrapt it in.^

While another poet gives in Latin verses an even more vivid picture of his preaching :

* Whenever the orator stood in St. Paul's I have seen and heard with amazement the wonderful power with which he held men, as they lifted up their hearts and eyes, whilst he poured forth the wise eloquence of a Nestor, sweeter than honey. Now he holds them thunderstruck whilst he preaches the mystery of holy things never before granted to the people and not yet understood ; they ponder his words with admiration, and

* Walton's Lives, 1670 ; Donne, p. ^S.

* Poenis, i, p. 386. * Ibid., i, p, 393.

c3

xxxviii Introduction.

stand with outstretched ears. Presently his manner and form of speaking are changed, and he treats of sad things — fate and the mournful hour of death, and the body returning to its primal ashes : then you might have seen all groan and grieve, and one here and there unable to restrain his tears.' ^

From these contemporary glimpses, and from the ser- mons themselves we can form some notion of the power, the grace, the eloquence which made Donne the most famous preacher of the time, and one of his great sermons an important event for his contemporaries. As we read these sermons, amid much that is remote and meaning- less to us, we seem now and then to hear the timbre of a living voice, and then for a moment the past returns ; and in the vast, dim-lit cathedral of old St. Paul's we seem to see that awe-struck congregation as they gaze up at the courtly, spectral figure standing with his hour- glass in the pulpit, and pouring forth in impassioned eloquence his inmost thoughts of remorse and ecstasy, his poignant sense of the grave's unspeakable horror, and

» Vidi,

Audivi & stupui quoties orator in JEde Paulina stetit, & mira gravitate levantes Corda, oculosi^viros teniiit : dum Nestoris ilie Fudit verba (omni quanto mage dulcia melle ?) Nunc habet attonitos, pandit mysteria plebi Non concessa prius nondum intellecta : revolvunt Mirantes, tacitique arrectis auribus astant. Mutatis mox ille modo, forma(^ loquendi Tristia pertractat : fatum(^& flebile mortis Tempus, & in cineres redeunt quod corpora primes. Tunc gemitum cunctos dare, tunc lugere videres, Forsitan a lachrymis aliquis non temperat. — Ibid, i, p. 391.

Introduction. xxxix

Heaven's unutterable glory ; and this image is added to those many deeply coloured pictures which, hung in the chamber of the historic imagination, form for us our vision of that illustrious and varied period of Englisli history.

We look back at this early period of tht seventeenth century in England, not only through the windows which history opens for us ; we see it even more clearly, though diversely tinctured, through the minds and imaginations of certain writers of the time ; fresh in the rilorning light of Milton's early poems, calm in the sabbath sunshine of George Herbert's Temple, or dusky with the twilight of Sir Thomas Browne's meditations. It is the purpose of the present book to draw aside at least one corner of the heavy curtain which hides from us another casement of that age's imagination, a sombre, deep-emblazoned gothic window, through which nevertheless the sunlight of to-day sometimes seems to strike, as it lights up the ascetic, enigmatic figure which it frames.

Donne's ecclesiastic career has been so adequately recounted by his biographers. Dr. Jessopp and Mr. Gosse, that only the briefest recapitulation is necessary here. John Donne was born in 1573 ; he was the elder son of a rich London ironmonger, who died in 1576 leaving him a considerable fortune. His mother, who was descended from a sister of Sir Thomas More, came of a famous Roman Catholic family ; she had two brothers who were Jesuits, and numbered among her relatives many prisoners and exiles for the sake of the Roman faith. She remained a devout Roman Catholic

xi Introduction.

till the end of her life, and her son's earliest years were spent in an atmosphere of Roman Catholic devotion. At the early age of eleven Donne v^rent to Oxford, and afterwards to Cambridge ; in 1590 we find him in London again, and in 1592 he was admitted to Lincoln's Inn. A young man of brilliant intellect, the master of a con- siderable fortune, he now found himself, as a Roman Catholic, shut out from the usual paths of honourable ambition, and faced with the problem whether he should remain in the old faith, and so sacrifice his worldly prospects, or should join the English Church and take his share in the life and interests of his country. Before coming to any conclusion he first surveyed and digested, he tells us, ' the whole body of divinity, controverted between ours and the Roman Church ' ; and if his final decision coincided with his interests, and if ten years later we find Donne a convinced opponent of Roman- ism, though we can hardly regard his change of faith as due to a genuine conversion to Anglicanism, or to any belief that it was alone the true church, it does not appear on the other hand to have been a mere apostasy prompted by political considerations. Donne was genuinely convinced that there was truth in each form of Christian religion, and that it was wisest and best for each man to accept the faith of his own country.

When after his somewhat stormy and spendthrift youth Donne made his rash marriage in 1601, and found himself desperately poor in consequence, half in disgrace, and with small prospects of worldly advancement, he resumed his theological studies ; and in 1605 we find him assisting Dr. Thomas Morton, afterwards Bishop of

Introduction. xli

Durham, in his controversies with the Roman Catholic writers. During the next few years he wrote three books, the Pseudo-Martyr, Ignatius his Conclave, and the Biathanatos, all of which were, as Mr. Gosse says, written more as a lawyer than a divine, though each was on the borderland of theology. In spite of his theological occupations, Donne, as his letters show, was still ambitious of worldly preferment, and when his patron, Dr. Morton, became Dean of Gloucester in 1607, and offered to resign a living to him if he would take orders, Donne refused the offer. Walton tells us that this refusal was due to a sense of his own unworthiness, and the fear that the irregularities of his past Hfe might bring dishonour on the sacred calHng, but it is more likely, as his letters of the time suggest, that he had not yet abandoned the hope of some court advancement. But this hope was repeatedly disappointed : Donne was poor, burdened with a large family, and forced to Hve in humihating dependence on the bounty of rich friends ; and in 161 2 we find him writing to the new court favourite, Rochester, that he had resolved to take orders. Rochester, however, seems to have discouraged this resolution, and it was not till three years later, and after further disappointments, that Donne, yielding to the persuasions of King James himself, finally determined to enter the Church. In January 161 5 he was ordained, and in the same year he became one of the king's chaplains and was made a Doctor of Divinity by the University of Cambridge. Donne's earliest court sermon which has come down to us, and perhaps the first sermon which he preached as chaplain to the king, is dated April 21, 1616. Though

xlii Introduction.

much was expected of him, Izaak Walton tells us, his preaching exceeded all expectation ; and indeed, if we recall the circumstances of the time, when the Over- bury murder, one of the greatest scandals of Enghsh history, had just been made public in all its dreadful details ; when the once omnipotent favourite of the king, the Earl of Somerset, stood publicly accused of com- plicity in this crime, and his guilty wife was imprisoned in the Tower, Donne's analysis of the beginning and growth of evil in the sinner's heart, and his sombre and terrible denunciations of God's judgements on the wicked, must have produced an astonishing effect on his auditory. ' God is the Lord of Hosts ', he proclaimed to them, ' and he can proceed by Martial Law : he can hang thee upon the next tree ; ... he can sink down the Stage and the Player, the bed of wantonness, and the wanton actor, into the jaws of the earth, into the mouth of hell.' ' Thou canst not lack Examples, that he hath done so upon others,' he continues, with a reference that must have been obvious to all, ' and wiU no proof serve thee, but a speedy judgement upon thyself ? ' ^

In this year, i6i6, Donne was presented to two country livings, and appointed Divinity Reader to the Benchers of Lincoln's Inn. This important and lucrative post, which involved, it has been calculated, the preparation of not fewer than fifty sermons a year, he held tiU he became Dean of St. Paul's, about six years later.

In March 1617 Donne was appointed to preach in the famous open-air pulpit of London at Paul's Cross, ^ See Nos. 87, 105, 108.

Introduction. xliii

before the Lords of the Council and the City Magistrates. These sermons at Paul's Cross, which were preached by the most distinguished divines of England, had an official character of high importance, and were one of the great events of contemporary London. Donne on his first appearance in this open-air pulpit preached a sermon of enormous length, which, if delivered as printed, must have kept his audience standing for at least two hours. It was, however, in contemporary opinion ' a dainty sermon ', and was ' exceedingly well liked ' especially for the praise he gave to Queen Elizabeth.^

In this year Donne lost the dearly-loved wife whom he had married in such romantic circumstances, and in his grief at this irreparable loss he seems to have taken his final ' step to the altar ', and to have undergone a real conversion ; his mind was now more wholly set on heavenly things ; and to his intellectual interest in theology and dogma was added a passionate devotion which increased as the years went by, till he became almost absorbed in that life of asceticism and spiritual exaltation which is reflected in his religious poetry, his meditations, and his great sermons. The chief events of his remaining years can be briefly recounted.

In 1619 he was appointed to go as King's Chaplain with his friend. Lord Doncaster, on a mission to Gernlany. His farewell sermon to the Benchers of Lincoln's Inn has been preserved,^ also one of the two sermons he preached before the Electress Palatine, afterwards the Queen of Bohemia, at Heidelberg,^ and a sermon he preached at The Hague. This last he afterwards enlarged into two ' See No. 29 and note. * No. 26. » No. 124.

xKv Introduction.

sermons of considerable length, which are chiefly re- markable for the wealth of sustained nautical metaphors which pervade them. Donne, who in his youth had sailed with Essex on two long voyages, is remarkable as a poet, among the somewhat inland English writers of his time, for his frequent use of nautical terms and his references to seafaring life and the ways of ships. He carried this breath of the sea with him into the pulpit ; his sermons abound in nautical terms and images, and now he preached to this seafaring nation on the Apostles as fishers of men, taken from their nets ' weather-beaten with North and South winds, and rough-cast with foame, and mud ' ^ ; and elaborated a giant simile of the world as a sea, in which all the inhabitants are fishes to be caught in the net of the Gospel and served up at the great marriage feast in Heaven, where, he added characteristically — ^and we must think surprisingly to the Dutch — ^whoever is a dish is a guest also, and whoever is served at the table sits at it.- After his return to England he was appointed, towards the end of 1621, to the Deanery of St. Paul's. His first sermon preached in that cathedral was on Christmas Day, 1 62 1. This sermon is a closely reasoned one, less adorned with those elaborate allusions and quotations and conceits of which he was so fond, but containing a clear statement of the relation between reason and faith which was the basis of his religious philosophy.^ Donne's Christmas sermons preached at St. Paul's for all the

* i, p. 720.

* No. 44. For other extracts from this sermon, see Nos, 86 and 112. » No. 58.

Introduction. xiv

subsequent years of his life except the last have been preserved, also the great sermons he was accustomed to preach there on Easter Day and Whitsunday, and a number of the sermons which he also preached as Prebend of the Cathedral, besides others delivered at various dates in the same pulpit. Next to these in number are the sermons preached at court, sometimes at St. James's, but for the most part at Whitehall. In 1624 he was presented to the living of St. Dunstan's in the West, then a fashionable church, in which as parish vicar he was able to come into closer personal relations with his congregation than he could with his great audiences at St. Paul's ; and in his first sermon there he described in the elaborate metaphor of a marriage between the Minister and his Congregation what he felt should be his relation to his parishioners.^ A number of other sermons preached in this pulpit have been pre- served.

Before this date, however, he preached two sermons of some importance. The first of these was to the Virginia Company, which was then trying to collect sub- scriptions for the earhest Enghsh colony in America, and to renew popular interest in this settlement. Donne took the point of view, which has become since so popular, that English conquest and colonization was, or should be, carried on for the purpose of religious propaganda, to furnish salvation to the benighted heathen ; and he preached, on this occasion, what has been called the first English mis- sionary sermon.2 Later in this year, 1622, a more unpleasant task was imposed on him, and he was ordered » No. 27. » No. 31.

xlvi Introduction.

by James I, who was then engaged in his negotiations for the Spanish Match, to preach at Paul's Cross in defence of the instructions the king had issued forbidding the polemical preaching of Protestant doctrines. There was an immense crowd at the sermon ; but a con- temporary tells us that he gave no satisfaction, speaking indeed, some thought, as if he were by no means satisfied himself.^ In the autumn of the next year he was struck down by that severe illness which he so vividly describes in his Devotions, published in 1624.

His next sermon of pubHc importance was preached in St. James's Palace a few days after the death of his old master James I. James died on March 27, 1625, at Theobald's ; the new king, Charles I, had shut himself up in St. James's Palace, but on Sunday the 3rd of April he sent for Donne to preach to him in the palace chapel. From a few scraps of old paper preserved by chance, we are able to make for ourselves a more than usually vivid picture of this Sunday afternoon nearly three hundred years ago. Donne, who had been seriously ill, was plainly thrown into great agitation by the royal command to preach before the inscrutable prince who was now beginning his fateful reign. He writes to a friend at court begging that on his arrival at the palace he may hide himself in an out-chamber or closet till the time for the sermon. He must preach fasting, he says, refusing an invitation to dinner, and after the sermon would steal

• See note to No. 37. This sermon, preached on the text about the stars fighting against Sisera, was printed in 1622 with a dedication to the new favourite, the Marquis of Buckingham. It was not included in the three folios, but was reprinted by Alford, vi, pp. 191-222.

Introduction. xlvli

into his coach and return home. Another letter of a con- temporary witness describes the very pale face and deep mourning of the young king as he went to the chapel, draped in a plain black cloak that fell to his ankles. Donne began his sermon with a discreet reference to the death of the old king, and then proceeded to preach a controversial sermon against the Rofnan Catholic and Puritan controversialists of the time ^ ; but three weeks later, preaching at Denmark House, where the embalmed body of James I lay in state, his references to his departed master are more explicit ; and in one splendid passage about the king's dead hand, he keeps repeating, at the end of his intricate clauses, the word * dead ' in a way that makes it ring out like the tolling of a bell, and which in his accomplished dehvery must have produced a strange effect of musical and sombre rhetoric.^

In 1625 he was driven out of London by the plague and took refuge with his friend Magdalen Herbert, George Herbert's mother, who was now married to Sir John Danvers, and lived in Danvers House in what was then the village of Chelsea. In 1627 Lady Danvers died and was buried in the parish church of Chelsea, where Donne preached the funeral sermon. In his unregenerate days Donne had written poems to Mrs. Herbert, almost as a lover ; he had immortalized her in those famous lines,

No Spring, nor Summer Beauty hath such grace. As I have seen in one Autumnall face,

and now, after an invocation to this loved ghost to arise from the consecrated dust in which she slept, he

* For this sermon see No. 75 and note. ' No. 34.

xlviii Introduction.

proceeds, in a long and noble panegyric to paint a por- trait of her as she lived and as he and her family and friends knew her — a portrait ^ which is one of the most vivid and beautiful we possess of those EHzabethan great ladies who befriended the poets of the time and still live for us immortalized in their poems.

Izaak Walton tells us that he was present in the church, and saw and heard Donne weep and preach this funeral sermon ; and he repeats Donne's characteristic wish that ' all his Body were turn'd unto tongues, that he might declare her just praises to posterity '.

The time was approaching when Donne must preach his own funeral sermon ; his strength gradually declined, twice he was afflicted with severe illness, and in 1630 his health finally gave way, and he retired to the country. But early in the next year he dragged himself up to London to preach his usual Lent sermon to the court — to sing, as one of his panegyrists wrote, like a swan, his mournful dirge — the great sermon which was published after his death as ' Death's Duell ', and in which his sombre imagination and his morbid and fantastic genius shone forth with unearthly splendour. Walton gives a vivid description of this last dramatic appearance, how when to the amazement of the beholders he appeared in the pulpit ' many of them thought he presented himself not to preach mortification by a living voice : but, mortality by a decayed body, and dying face ',^ and how as they saw his tears and heard his faint and hollow voice, as he preached on his text, ' To God the Lord belong the issues from death,' they felt that the text had been prophetically * No. 28. ' Walton's Lives, 1670, Donne, p. 71.

Introduction. xlix

chosen and that he had preached his own funeral sermon. Donne then retired to the Deanery and began that spectacular preparation for death, that ' elaborate pubhc decease ', as Mr. Gosse describes it, ' so long-drawn, so solemn, so boldly picturesque ' which so greatly impressed his contemporaries, and which, in the monument designed after the picture he had had painted of himself dressed in a winding sheet, has left in St. Paul's so strange and so beautiful a memorial for the admiration of posterity.

Six of Donne's sermons had been published in his Hfe- time, and he left at his death a large number prepared for the press. His last sermon was printed after his death in 1632, and in 1634 six more sermons were pub- lished by the Cambridge University Press. In 1640 Donne's son, John Donne, pubhshed the first foho of eighty sermons, all hitherto unpubhshed, and in 1649 he printed the second foho. Fifty Sermons, containing ' Death's Duell ' and the six pubhshed in 1634 and forty-three new ones. In 1660 he published the third folio, entitled XXVI Sermons, although it only contains twenty-four, as two of them were printed twice. In 1839, Henry Alford, afterwards Dean of Canterbury, pubhshed the 154 sermons from the three fohos, and three of the six printed in Donne's hfetime, in an edition which was intended to be a complete edition of Donne's writings, though this plan was afterwards abandoned, and only the sermons, the Devotions, the poems, and the letters were included in it. Alford so expurgated the poems, and was so careless in his printing of the letters, that this edition of his has been much abused by scholars. He admits that he bowdlerized a few of the earlier sermons ;

1 Introduction.

but save for this and for the modernization of the spelHng, the text of the sermons is accurate, and as the old foUos are now rare (the third is almost unprocurable) Alford's edition is the one which is most accessible to modern readers. 1

We possess, therefore, i6o of Donne's sermons, of which all but three were reprinted by Alford, where they fill about three thousand pages. Some of these sermons are of enormous length, and if preached as written must have taken two or three hours to deliver, instead of the hour marked by the running sands in the conspicuous hour-glass, to which Donne was accustomed to confine himself. But there is plenty of evidence to show that we do not now possess the sermons as he preached them. Donne, like other divines of the period, took no fully written manuscript with him into the pulpit ; he preached from notes ; and although when preaching at court or at St. Paul's on great occasions he would no doubt commit much of his sermon to memory, the whole text would be written out from memory afterwards, and subject to many additions and changes in the process of writing.^

' In 1840 Pickering published a beautifully printed volume, Devotions hy John Donne, D.D., which contains two of Donne's sermons, ' Death's Duell ' and the Chelsea sermon on the death of Lady Danvers.

* In a letter of 1621 Donne promises to write out one of his sermons for a friend ' though in good faith I have half forgot it ' (Gosse, ii, p. 151). In 1625, when he had taken refuge at Chelsea from the plague in London, he says, in explaining how he has spent his time there, ' I have revised as many of my sermons as I had kept any note of, and I have written out a great many, and hope to do more. I have already come to the number of eighty, of which my son . . . may hereafter make some use ' {ibid., p. 225). Donne's sermon preached at The Hague is introduced in

Introduction. li

It only remains to say a few words about the plan of this small volume of extracts from Donne's sermons. The arrangement is not chronological, and indeed, since many of the sermons are undated, such an arrangement would be at the best highly uncertain and conjectural. They are placed in a certain sequence according to their subjects, first the more autobiographical passages, the pages or paragraphs where Donne speaks most directly and intimately of himself, liis own feeUngs and moods, his own conception of the preacher's office, his Hterary tastes, and the references, though these are not many, to his own life and travels. Next follow the scanty allusions he makes to events of contemporary history, the death of Queen Ehzabeth, the accession of James I, the Gun- powder Plot, the new settlements in America, the great plague of 1625, and the death of King James ; after these come passages illustrating the more secular aspects of his thought, his remarks on life and men and women, on poverty and riches, a portrait he gives in a funeral sermon of a rich London merchant of the time, and his reflections on the ' new philosophy ' of Copernicus, and on human knowledge in general. Then following the process of his thought, we come to rehgious faith, as founded on, and yet contrasted with, mere human reason, and the revelation of that faith through the Scriptures and the teaching of the Church. Next follow those passages in which he attains the greatest heights of the first folio, with this note, ' At the Haghe Decemh. 19. 1619. I Preached upon this Text. Since my sicknesse at Ahney-hatche in Essex, 1630. revising mv short notes of that Sermon, I digested them into these two.' Two sermons follow on the same text, and there are other sermons which seem to have been expanded and divided in the same way.

Hi Introduction,

eloquence — ^passages in which the body of that revelation is expressed, our knowledge of God and of man's fall, the inheritance of Original Sin, the corrupt nature of man, the sinful state of the world, the penalty of death with all its horrors, the terrors of the Day of Judgement, the misery of the damned, and the everlasting joy and glory of the blessed souls in Heaven. The book ends with extracts from the sombre and impressive last sermon, in which he made his farewell to the world.

■Ts> ij^-fs) PT*"?) eT*-''^^

Donne'S Sermons

DONNE'S SERMONS

I. 7Ae Preacher,

jN the great Ant-hill of the whole world, I am an Ant ; I have my part in the Creation, I am a Creature ; But there are ignoble Creatures. God comes nearer ; In the great field of clay, of red earth, that man was made of, & mankind, I am a clod ; I am a man, I have my part in the Humanity ; But Man was worse then annihilated again. When satan in that serpent was come, as Hercules with his club into a potters shop, and had broke all the vessels, destroyed all mankind. And the gracious promise of a Messias to redeeme all mankind, was shed and spread upon all, I had my drop of that dew of Heaven, my sparke of that fire of heaven, in the universall promise, in which I was involved ; But this promise was appropriated after, in a particular Covenant, to one people, to the Jewes, to the seed of Abraham. But for all that I have my portion there ; for all that professe Christ Jesus are by a spirituall engrafting, and transmigration, and transplantation, in and of that stock, and that seed of Abraham ; and I am one of those. But then, of those who doe professe Christ Jesus, some grovell still in the superstitions they

2035'3 B

i The Preacher.

were fallen into, and some are raised, by Gods good grace, out of them ; and I am one of those ; God hath afforded me my station, in that Church, which is departed from Babylon.

Now, all this while, my soule is in a cheerefull progresse ; when I consider what God did for Goshen in Egypt, for a little parke in the midst of a forest ; what he did for Jury, in the midst of enemies, as a shire that should stand out against a Kingdome round about it : How many Sancerraes he hath delivered from famins, how- many Genevaes from plots, and machinations against her ; all this while my soule is in a progresse : But I am at home, when I consider Buls of excommunications, and solicitations of Rebellions, and pistols, and poysons, and the discoveries of those ; There is our Nos, We, testimonies that we are in the favour, and care of God ; We, our Nation, we, our Church ; There I am at home ; but I am in my Cabinet at home, when I consider, what God hath done for me, and my soule ; There is the Ego, the particular, the individuall, I,

2. When I consider. iMOROUS soule, ambitious soule, covetous soule, Jl\. voluptuous soule, what wouldest thou have in heaven ? What doth thy holy amorousnesse, thy holy covetousnesse, thy holy ambition, and voluptuousnesse most carry thy desire upon ? Call it what thou wilt ; think it what thou canst ; think it something that thou canst not think ; and all this thou shalt have, if thou have any Resurrection unto life ; and yet there

When I consider.

is a Better Resurrection. When I consider what I was in my parents loynes (a substance unworthy of a word, unworthy of a thought) when I consider what I am now, (a Volume of diseases bound up together, a dry cynder, if I look for naturall, for radicall moisture, and yet a Spunge, a bottle of overflowing Rheumes, if I consider accidentall ; an aged childe, a gray-headed Infant, and but the ghost of mine own youth) When I consider what I shall be at last, by the hand of death, in my grave, (first, but Putrifaction, and then, not so much as Putri- faction, I shall not be able to send forth so much as an ill ayre, not any ayre at all, but shall be all insipid, tastlesse, savourlesse dust ; for a while, all wormes, and after a while, not so much as wormes, sordid, senslesse, namelesse dust) When I consider the past, and present, and future state of this body, in this world, I am able to conceive, able to expresse the worst that can befall it in nature, and the worst that can be inflicted upon it by man, or fortune ; But the least degree of glory that God hath prepared for that body in heaven, I am not able to expresse, not able to conceive.

3. I am Not all Here.

I AM not all here, I am here now preaching upon this text, and I am at home in my Library considering whether 5. Gregory, or S. Hierome, have said best of this text, before. I am here speaking to you, and yet I consider by the way, in the same instant, what it is likely you will say to one another, when I have done, you are not all here neither ; you are here now,

B 2

4 I am Not all Here.

hearing me, and yet you are thinking that you have heard a better Sermon somewhere else, of this text before ; you are here, and yet you think you could have heard some other doctrine of down-right Predestination, and Reprobation roundly delivered somewhere else with more edification to you ; you are here, and you remember your selves that now yee think of it : This had been the fittest time, now, when every body else is at Church, to have made such and such a private visit ; and because you would bee there, you are there.

4. Imperfect Prayers.

BUT when we consider with a religious serious- nesse the manifold weaknesses of the strongest devotions in time of Prayer, it is a sad consideration. I throw my selfe downe in my Chamber, and I call in, and invite God, and his Angels thither, and when they are there, I neglect God and his Angels, for the noise of a Flie, for the ratling of a Coach, for the whining of a doore ; I talke on, in the same posture of praying ; Eyes lifted up ; knees bowed downe ; as though I prayed to God ; and, if God, or his Angels should aske me, when I thought last of God in that prayer, I cannot tell : Sometimes I finde that I had forgot what I was about, but when I began to forget it, I cannot tell. A memory of yesterdays pleasures, a feare of to morrows dangers, a straw under my knee, a noise in mine eare, a light in mine eye, an any thing, a nothing, a fancy, a Chimera in my braine, troubles me in my prayer. So certainely is there nothing, nothing in spirituall things, perfect in this world.

Powers and Principalities. 5

5. Powers and Principalities.

I PASSE my time sociably and merrily in cheerful conversation, in musique, in feasting, in Come- dies, in wantonnesse ; and I never heare all this while of any power or principality, my Conscience spies no such enemy in all this. And then alone, between God and me at midnight, some beam of his grace shines out upon me, and by that light I see this Prince of darknesse, and then I finde that I have been the subject, the slave of these powers and principalities, when I thought not of them. Well, I see them, and I try then to dispossesse my selfe of them, and I make my recourse to the power- fullest exorcisme that is, I turne to hearty and earnest prayer to God, and I fix my thoughts strongly (as I thinke) upon him, and before I have perfected one petition, one period of my prayer, a power and principality is got into me againe. Spiritus soporis. The spirit of slumber Esay 29.10. closes mine eyes, and I pray drousily ; Or spiritus Esa. 19. 14. v^rtigitiis, the spirit of deviation, and vaine repetition, and I pray giddily, and circularly, and returne againe and againe to that I have said before, and perceive not that I do so ; and nescio cujus spiritus sim, (as our Saviour Luk. 9. 55. said, rebuking his Disciples,, who were so vehement for the burning of the Samaritans, you know not of what spirit you are) I pray, and know not of what spirit I am, I consider not mine own purpose in prayer ; And by this advantage, this doore of inconsideration, enters spiritus err oris ^ The seducing spirit,, the spirit of error, i Tim. 4. i. and I pray not onely negligently, but erroniously, dangerously, for such things as disconduce to the glory

6 Powers and Principalities.

of God, and my true happinesse, if they were granted.

Hosea4.i2. Nay, even the Prophet Hosea's spiritus fornicationum,

' enters into me, The spirit of fornication, that is, some

^ remembrance of the wantonnesse of my youth, some

mis-interpretation of a word in my prayer, that may

beare an ill sense, some unclean spirit, some power or

principality hath depraved my prayer, and slackned my

zeale.

A^

6. Infecting God, >S S. Chrysostome sayes, every man is Spontaneus Satan, a Satan to himselfe, as Satan is a Tempter, every man can tempt himselfe ; so I will be Spontaneus Satan, as Satan is an Accuser, an Adversary, I vsdll accuse my selfe. I consider often that passionate l.uk 5. 8. humiliation of S. Peter, Exi a me Domine, He fell at lesus knees, saying. Depart from me, for I am a sinfull man, O Lord ; And I am often ready to say so, and more ; Depart from me, O Lord, for I am sinfull inough to infect thee ; As I may persecute thee in thy Children, so I may infect thee in thine Ordinances ; Depart, in withdrawing thy word from me, for I am corrupt inough to make even thy saving Gospel, the savor of death unto death ; Depart, in withholding thy Sacrament, for I am leprous inough to taint thy flesh, and to make the balme of thy blood, poyson to my soule ; Depart, in withdrawing the protection of thine Angels from me, for I am vicious inough to imprint corruption and rebellion into their nature. And if I be too foule for God himselfe to come neare me, for his Ordinances to worke upon me, I am no companion for my selfe, I must

Infecting God. 7

not be alone with my selfe ; for I am as apt to take, as to give infection ; I am a reciprocal! plague ; passively and actively contagious ; I breath corruption, and breath it upon my selfe ; and I am the Babylon that I must goe out of, or I perish.

7. Forgiveness of Sins.

SO the Spirit of God moves upon the face of these waters, the Spirit of life upon the danger of death. Consider the love, more then love, the study, more then study, the diligence of God, he devises meanes, that his banished, those whom sins, or death had banished, be not expelled from him. I sinned upon the strength of ■. my youth, and God devised a meanes to reclaime me, an enfeebling sicknesse. I relapsed after my recovery, and God devised a meanes, an irrecoverable, a helpless Consumption to reclaime me ; That affliction grew heavy upon me, and weighed me down even to a diffidence in Gods mercy, and God devised a meanes, the comfort of the Angel of his Church, his Minister, The comfort of the Angel of the great Counsell, the body and blood of his Son Christ Jesus, at my transmigration. Yet he lets his correction proceed to death ; I doe dye of that sicknesse, and God devises a meanes, that I, though banished, banished into the grave, shall not be expelled from him, a glorious Resurrection.

8. Forgive my Sins,

FORGIVE me O Lord^ O Lord forgive me my sinnes, the sinnes of my youth, and my present sinnes, the sinne that my Parents cast upon me. Original!

8 Forgive my Sins.

sinne, and the sinnes that I cast upon my children, in an ill example ; Actuall sinnes, sinnes which are manifest to all the world, and sinnes which I have so laboured to hide from the world, as that now they are hid from mine own conscience, and mine own memory ; Forgive me my crying sins, and my whispering sins, sins of v^ uncharitable hate, and sinnes of unchaste love, sinnes against Thee and Thee^ against thy Power O Almighty Father, against thy Wisedome, O glorious Sonne, against thy Goodnesse, O blessed Spirit of God ; and sinnes against Him and Him, against Superiours and Equals, and Inferiours ; and sinnes against Me and Me, against mine own soul, and against my body, which I have loved better than my soul ; Forgive me O Lord, O Lord in the merits of thy Christ and my Jesus, thine Anointed, and my Saviour ; Forgive me my sinnes, all my sinnes, and I will put Christ to no more cost, nor thee to more trouble, for any reprobation or malediction that lay upon me, otherwise then as a sinner. I ask but an application, not an extention of that Benediction, Blessed are they whose sinnes are forgiven ; Let me be but so blessed, and I shall envy no mans Blessednesse : say thou to my sad soul, Sonne be of good comfort, thy sinnes are forgiven thee, and I shall never trouble thee with Petitions, to take any other Bill off of the fyle, or to reverse any other Decree, by which I should be accurst, before I was created, or condemned by thee, before thou saw'st me as a sinner.

Let Me Wither.

9. Let Me Wither.

1ET me wither and weare out mine age in a dis- -i comfortable, in an unwholesome, in a penurious prison, and so pay my debts with my bones, and recompence the wastfulnesse of my youth, with the beggery of mine age ; Let me wither in a spittle under sharpe, and foule, and infamous diseases, and so recom- pence the wantonnesse of my youth, with that loath- somnesse in mine age ; yet, if God with-draw not his spirituall blessings, his Grace, his Patience, If I can call my suffering his Doing, my passion his Action, All this that is temporall, is but a caterpiller got into one corner of my garden, but a mill-dew fallen upon one acre of my Corne ; The body of all, the substance of all is safe, as long as the soule is safe. But when I shall trust to that, which wee call a good spirit, and God shall deject, and empoverish, and evacuate that spirit, when I shall rely upon a morall constancy, and God shall shake, and enfeeble, and enervate, destroy and demolish that constancy ; when I shall think to refresh my selfe in the serenity and sweet ayre of a good conscience, and God shall call up the damps and vapours of hell itselfe, and spread a cloud of diffidence, and an impenetrable crust of desperation upon my conscience ; when health shall flie from me, and I shall lay hold upon riches to succour me, and comfort me in my sicknesse, and riches shall flie from me, and I shall snatch after favour, and good opinion, to comfort me in my poverty ; when even this good opinion shall leave me, and calumnies and misinformations shall prevaile against me ; when

10 Let Me Wither.

I shall need peace, because there is none but thou, O Lord, that should stand for me, and then shall finde, that all the wounds that I have, come from thy hand, all the arrowes that stick in me, from thy quiver ; when I shall see, that because I have given my selfe to my corrupt nature, thou hast changed thine ; and because I am all evill towards thee, therefore thou hast given over being good towards me ; When it comes to this height, that the fever is not in the humors, but in the spirits, that mine enemy is not an imaginary enemy, fortune, nor a transitory enemy, malice in great persons, but a reall, and an irresistible, and an inexorable, and an everlasting enemy. The Lord of Hosts himselfe, The Almighty God himselfe, the Almighty God himselfe onely knowes the waight of this affliction, and except hee put in tha.t pondus gloria, that exceeding waight of an eternall glory, with his owne hand, into the other scale, we are waighed downe, we are swallowed up, irreparably, irrevocably, irrecoverably, irremediably.

10. Donne and the Worm.

IF my soule could aske one of those Wormes which my dead body shall produce. Will you change with me ? that worme would say. No ; for you are like to live eternally in torment ; for my part, I can live no longer, then the putrid moisture of your body will give me leave, and therefore I will not change ; nay, would the Devill himselfe change with a damned soule I I cannot tell.

Preaching Consolation. ii

II. Preaching Consolatioti.

WHO but my selfe can conceive the sweetnesse of that sahitation, when the Spirit of God sayes to me in a morning, Go forth to day and preach, and preach consolation, preach peace, preach mercy, And spare my people, spare that people whom I have redeemed with my precious Blood, and be not angry with them for ever ; Do not wound them, doe not grinde them, do not astonish them with the bitternesse, with the heavinesse, with the sharpnesse, with the consternation of my judgements. David proposes to himselfe, that he would Sing of mercy, and of judgement ; Psal. ion. but it is of mercy first ; and not of judgement at all, otherwise then it will come into a song, as joy and consolation is compatible with it. It hath falne into disputation, and admitted argument, whether ever God inflicted punishments by his good Angels ; But that the good Angels, the ministeriall Angels of the Church, are properly his instruments, for conveying mercy, peace, consolation, never fell into question, never admitted opposition. . . .

What a Coronation is our taking of Orders, by which God makes us a Royall Priesthood ? And what an inthronization is the comming up into a Pulpit, where God invests his servants with his Ordinance, as with a Cloud, and then presses that Cloud with a Vce si non, woe be unto thee, if thou doe not preach, and then enables him to preach peace, mercy, consolation, to the whole Congregation. That God should appeare in a Cloud, upon the Mercy Seat, as he promises Moses Lsvlt. 16.2,

12 Preaching Consolation.

he will doe, That from so poore a man as stands here, wrapped up in clouds of infirmity, and in clouds of iniquity, God should drop, raine, poure downe his dew, and sweeten that dew with his honey, and. crust that honied dew into Manna, and multiply that Manna into Gomers, and fill those Gomers every day, and give every particular man his Gomer, give every soule in the Con- gregation, consolation by me ; That when I call to God for grace here, God should give me grace for grace, Grace in a power to derive grace upon others, and that this Oyle, this Balsamum should flow to the hem of the garment, even upon them that stand under me ; That when mine eyes looke up to Heaven, the eyes of all should looke up upon me, and God should open my mouth, to give them meat in due season ; That I should not onely be able to say, as Christ said to that poore soule. Confide fill. My son be of good comfort, but Fratres i^ Patres mei, My Brethren, and my Fathers, nay Domini mei, and Rex mens, My Lords, and my King be of good comfort, your sins are forgiven you ; That God should scale to me that Patent, lie pr^edicate omni Creaturce^ Goe and preach the Gospell to every Creaturey be that creature what he will, That if God lead me into a Congregation, as into his Arke, where there are but eight soules, but a few disposed to a sense of his mercies, and all the rest (as in the Arke) ignobler creatures, and of brutall natures and affections. That if I finde a licentious Goat, a supplanting Fox, an usurious Wolfe, an ambitious Lion, yet to that creature, to every creature I should preach the Gospel of peace and consolation, and offer these creatures a Metamorphosis, a transformation,

Preaching Consolation. 13

a new Creation in Christ Jesus, and thereby make my Goat, and my Fox, and my Wolfe, and my Lion, to become Semen Dei, The seed of God, and Filiunt Dei, The child of God, and Participem Divina Natura, Partaker of the Divine Nature it selfe ; This is that which Christ is essentially in himselfe, This is that which ministerially and instrumentally he hath committed to me, to shed his consolation upon you, upon you all ; Not as his Almoner to drop his consolation upon one soule, nor as his Treasurer to issue his consolation to a whole Congregation, but as his Ophir, as his Indies, to derive his gold, his precious consolation upon the King himselfe.

12. The Beauty of the Soul.

/NSANIEBAT amatoriam insaniam Paulus, S. PaulThcopUl. was mad for love ; S. Paul did, and we doe take into our contemplation, the beauty of a Christian soul ; Through the ragged apparell of the afflictions of this life ; through the scarres, and wounds, and palenesse, and morphews of sin, and corruption, we can look upon the soul it self, and there see that incorruptible beauty, that white and red, which the innocency and the blood of Christ hath given it, and we are mad for love of this soul, and ready to doe any act of danger, in the ways of persecution, any act of diminution of our selves in the ways of humiliation, to stand at her doore, and pray, and begge, that she would be reconciled to God.

14 Spiritual Liberality.

13. Spiritual Liberality. ' ^^^^'- A^ ^^ Hezekias, a losias is a Type of Christ, but yet ' JljL but a Type of Christ ; so this civill Liberality, which we have hitherto spoken of, is a Type, but yet but a Type of our spirituall Liberality. For, here we doe not onely change termes, the temporall, to spirituall, and to call that, which we called Liberality in the former part, Charity in this part ; nor do we onely make the difference in the proportion & measure, that that which was a Benefit in the other part, should be an Almes in this. But we invest the whole consideration in a meere spirituall nature ; and so that Liberality, which was, in the former acceptation, but a relieving, but a refreshing, but a repairing of defects, and dilapidations in the body or fortune, is now, in this second part, in this spirituall acceptation, the raising of a dejected spirit, the redinte- gration of a broken heart, the resuscitation of a buried soule, the re-consoHdation of a scattered conscience, not with the glues, and cements of this world, mirth, and musique, and comedies, and conversation, and wine, and women, (miserable comforters are they all) nor with that Meteor, that hangs betweene two worlds, that is, Philosophy, and morall constancy, (which is somewhat above the carnall man, but yet far below the man truly Christian and religious) But this is the Liberality, of which the Holy Ghost himselfe is content to be the Steward, of the holy, blessed, and glorious Trinity, and to be notified, and qualified by that distinctive notion, and specification, The Comforter.

To finde a languishing wretch in a sordid corner, not

Spiritual Liberality. 15

onely in a penurious fortune, but in an oppressed con- science, His eyes under a diverse suffocation, smothered with smoake, and smothered with teares, His eares estranged from all salutations, and visits, and all sounds, but his owne sighes, and the stormes and thunders and earth- quakes of his owne despaire. To enable this man to open his eyes, and see that Christ Jesus stands before him, and sayes, Behold and see, if ever there were any sorrow, like my sorrow, and my sorrow is overcome, why is not thine ? To open this mans eares, and make him heare that voyce that sayes, / was dead, and am alive, and behold, I live Reveli. 18. for evermore. Amen ; and so mayest thou ; To bow downe those Heavens, and bring them into his sad Chamber, To set Christ Jesus before him, to out-sigh him, out-weepe him, out-bleed him, out-dye him. To transferre all the fasts, all the scornes, all the scourges, all the nailes, all the speares of Christ Jesus upon him, and so, making him the Crucified man in the sight of the Father, because all the actions, and passions of the Son, are appropriated to him, and made his so intirely, as if there were never a soule created but his, To enrich this poore soule, to comfort this sad soule so, as that he shall beleeve, and by beleeving finde all Christ to be his, this is that Liberality which we speake of now, in dispensing whereof, The liber all man devise th liber all things, and by liber all things shall stand.

14. Eaglets Wings.

FOR as those words are well understood by many of the Ancients, To the Woman were given two wings Revei. 12. of an Eagle, that is, to the Church were given able and ^^

1 6 Eagle's Wings.

sufficient Ministers, to carry and convey her over the Nations : So are those vi^ords which are spoken of God Deut. 32. himself, appHable to his Ministers, that first, The Eagle ^^' stirreth up her nest. The Preacher stirres and moves,

and agitates the holy affections of the Congregation, that they slumber not in a senselesnesse of that which is said, The Eagle stirreth up her nest, and then as it is added there, She Jluttereth over her young ; The Preacher makes a holy noise in the conscience of the Congregation, and when hee hath awakened them, by stirring the nest, hee casts some claps of thunder, some intimidations, in denouncing the judgements of God, and he flings open the gates of Heaven, that they may heare, and look up, and see a man sent by God, with power to infuse his feare upon them ; So she Jluttereth over her young ; but then, as it followes there, She spreadeth abroad her zvings ; she over-shadowes them, she enwraps them, she armes them with her wings, so as that no other terror, no other fluttering but that which comes from her, can come upon them ; The Preacher doth so infuse the feare of God into his Auditory, that first, they shall feare nothing but God, and then they shall feare God, but so, as he is God ; And God is Mercy ; God is Love ; and his Minister shall so spread his wings over his people, as to defend them from all inordinate feare, from all suspition and jealousie, from all diffidence and distrust in the mercie of God ; which is farther exprest in that clause, which followes in the same place, She taketh them and heareth them upon her wings ; when the Minister hath awakened his flocke by the stirring of the nest, and put them in this holy feare, by this which the Holy Ghost cals a

Eagle's Wings. 17

Fluttering ; and then provided, by spreading his wings, that upon this feare there follow not a desperation ; then ^ he sets them upon the top of his best wings, and shewes them the best treasure that is committed to his Steward- ship, hee shewes them Heaven, and God in Heaven, sanctifying all their crosses in this World, inanimating all their worldly blessings, rayning downe his blood into their emptinesse, and his balme into their wounds, making their bed in all their sicknesse, and preparing their seate, where he stands soliciting their cause, at the right hand of his Father. And so the Minister hath the wings of an Eagle, that every soule in the Congregation may see as much as hee sees, that is, a particular interest in all the mercies of God, and the merits of Christ.

15. The Hour-Glass.

I HAVE seen Minute-glasses ; Glasses so short-liv'd. If I were to preach upon this Text, to such a glass, it were enough for half the Sermon ; enough to show the worldly man his Treasure, and the Object of his heart {for, where your Treasure is, there will your Heart be also) to call his eye to that Minute-glass, and to tell him. There flows, there flies your Treasure, and your Heart with it. But if I had a Secular Glass, a Glass that would run an age ; if the two Hemispheres of the World were composed in the form of such a Glass, and all the World calcin'd and burnt to ashes, and all the ashes, and sands, and atoms of the World put into that Glass, it would not be enough to tell the godly man what his Treasure, and the Object of his Heart is. A Parrot, or a Stare, docile Birds, and of pregnant imitation, will sooner be ^025*3 c

1 8 The Hour- Glass.

brought to relate to us the wisdom of a Council Table, then any Ambrose, or any Chrysostome men that have Gold and Honey in their Names, shall tell us what the Sweetness, what the Treasure of Heaven is, and what that mans peace, that hath set his Heart upon that Treasure.

1 6. Preaching. In (onci- T^ECAUSE God cals Preaching foolishnesse, you take 1 Cor*^i* 21 ^^ God at his word, and you thinke Preaching a thing under you. Hence is it, that you take so much liberty in censuring and comparing Preacher and Preacher, nay Sermon and Sermon from the same Preacher ; as though we preached for wagers, and as though coine were to be valued from the inscription meerely, and the image, and the person, and not for the metall. You measure Lam. 4 i6. all by persons ; and yet, Non erubescitis faciem Sacerdotis, Tou respect not the person of the Priest, you give not so much reverence to Gods Ordinance, as he does. In no Church of Christendome but ours, doth the Preacher preach uncovered. And for all this good, and humble, and reverend example, (fit to be continued by us) cannot we keepe you uncovered till the Text be read. All the Sermon is not Gods word, but all the Sermon is Gods Ordinance, and the Text is certainely his word. There is no salvation but by faith, nor faith but by hearing, nor hearing but by preaching ; and they that thinke meanliest of the Keyes of the Church, and speake faintliest of the Absolution of the Church, will yet allow, That those Keyes lock, and unlock in Preaching ; That Absolution is con- ferred, or withheld in Preaching, That the proposing

Preaching. 19

of the promises of the Gospel in preaching, is that binding and loosing on earth, which bindes and looses in heaven. And then, though Christ have bid us, Preach the Gospel Mar. 16. is- to every creature, yet, in his own great Sermon in the Mount, he hath forbidden us, to give holy things to dogs. Mat. 7. 6. or to cast pearle before swine, lest they trample them, and turne and rend us. So that if all those manifold and fearfull judgements, which swell in every Chapter, and blow in every verse, and thunder in every line of every Booke of the Bible, fall upon all them that come hither, as well, if they turne, and rend, that is. Calumniate us, the person of the Preacher, as if they trample upon the pearles, that is, undervalue the Doctrine, and the Ordinance it selfe ; If his terrible Judgements fall upon every uncharit- able mis-interpretation of that which is said here, and upon every irreverence in this place, and in this action ; Confesse, that though he be the God of your salvation, and doe answer you, yet, by terrible things doth the God of your salvation answer you. And confesse it also, as in manners, and in prayers, and in preaching, so in the holy and blessed Sacrament.

17. Applause. niDONIUS APOLLINARIS, (a Bishop himselfe, ^ but whether then or no, I know not) saith of another Bishop, that hearing even pmdicationes repentinas, his extemporall Sermons, raucus plausor audivi, I poured my selfe out in loud acclamations, till I was hoarse : And, to contract this consideration, wee see evidently, that this fashion continued in the Church, even to Saint Bernards time. Neither is it left yet in some places,

c 2

:o Applause.

beyond the Seas, where the people doe yet answer the Preacher, if his questions be applyable to them, and may induce an answer, with these vocall acclamations, 5iV, we zvillf Sir, we zvill noU And truely wee come too neare re-inducing this vain glorious fashion, in those often periodicall murraurings, and noises, which you make, when the Preacher concludeth any point ; for those impertinent Interjections swallow up one quarter of his houre, and many that were not within distance of hearing the Sermon, will give a censure upon it, according to the frequencie, or paucitie of these acclamations.

1 8. The Bellman.

HE that will dy with Christ upon Good-Friday, must hear his own bell toll all Lent ; he that will be partaker of his passion at last, must conform himself to his discipline of prayer & fasting before. Is there any man, that in his chamber hears a bell toll for another man, and does not kneel down to pray for that dying man ? and then when his charity breaths out upon another man, does he not also reflect upon himself, and dispose himself as if he were in the state of that dying man ? We begin to hear Christs bell toll now, and is not our bell in the chime ? We must be in his grave, before we come to his resurrection, and we must be in his death-bed before we come to his grave : we must do as he did, fast and pray, before we can say as he said, that In manus tuas. Into thy hands O Lord I commend my Spirit. You would not go into a Medicinal Bath without some pre- paratives ; presume not upon that Bath, the blood of Christ Jesus, in the Sacrament then, without preparatives

The Bellman. 21

neither. Neither say to your selves, we shall have preparatives enough, warnings enough, many more Sermons before it come to that, and so it is too soon yet ; you are not sure you shall have more ; not sure you shall have all this ; not sure you shall be affected with any. If you be, when you are, remember that as in that good Custome in these Cities, you hear cheerful street musick in the winter mornings, but yet there was a sad and doleful bel-man, that wak'd you, and call'd upon you two or three hours before that musick came ; so for all that blessed musick which the servants of God shall present to you in this place, it may be of use, that a poor bell-man waked you before, and though but by his noise, prepared you for their musick.

19. Favourite Scriptures, ALMOST every man hath his Appetite^ and his tast -^~i- disposed to some kind of meates rather then others ; He knows what dish he would choose, for his first, and for his second course. We have often the same disposition in our spirituall Diet ; a man may have a particular love towards such or such a book of Scripture, and in such an affection, I acknowledge, that my spirituall appetite carries me still, upon the Psalms of David, for a first course, for the Scriptures of the Old Testament : and upon the Epistles of Saint Paul, for a second course, for the New, and my meditations even for these publike exercises to Gods Church, returne oftnest to these two. For, as a hearty entertainer offers to others, the meat which he loves best himself, so doe I oftnest present to Gods people, in these Congregations, the meditations

22 Favourite Scriptures.

which I feed upon at home, in those two Scriptures^ If a man be asked a reason why he loves one meat better then another, where all are equally good, (as the books of Scripture are) he will at least, finde a reason in some good example, that he sees some man of good tast, and temperate withall, so do : And for my Diet, I have Saint Augustines protestation, that he loved the Book of Psalms ^ and Saint Chrysostomes, that he loved Saint Pauls Epistles, with a particular devotion. I may have another more particular reason, because they are Scriptures, written in such forms, as I have been most accustomed to ; Saint Pauls being Letters, and Davids being Poems : for, God gives us, not onely that which is meerly neces- sary, but that which is convenient too ; He does not onely feed us, hutfeed us with marrow, and with fatnesse ; he gives us our instruction in cheerfull forms, not in a sowre, and sullen, and angry, and unacceptable way, but cheerfully, in Psalms, which is also a limited, and a restrained form ; Not in an Oration, not in Prose, but in Psalms ; which is such a form as is both curious, and requires diligence in the making, and then when it is made, can have nothing, no syllable taken from it, nor added to it : Therefore is Gods will delivered to us in Psalms, that we might have it the more cheerfully, and that we might have it the more certainly, because where all the words are numbred, and measured, and weighed, the whole work is the lesse subject to falsification, either by substraction or addition. God speaks to us in oratione strictd, in a limited, in a diligent form ; Let us {not) speak to him in oratione solutd ; not pray, not preach, not hear, \ slackly, suddenly, unadvisedly, extemporally, occasionally,

Favourite Scriptures. 23

indlligently ; but let all our speech to him, be weighed, and measured in the weights of the Sanctuary, let us be content to preach, and to hear within the compasse of our Articles, and content to pray in those jormes which the Church hath meditated for us, and recom- mended to us.

20. T^he Psalms.

THE Psalmes are the Manna of the Church. As Wisd.i6.2o, Manna tasted to every man like that that he liked best, so doe the Psalmes minister Instruction, and satis- ° faction, to every man, in every emergency and occasion. David was not onely a cleare Prophet of Christ himselfe, but a Prophet of every particular Christian ; He foretels what I, what any shall doe, and suffer, and say. And as the whole booke of Psalmes is Oleum effusum, (as the Cant. i. 3. Spouse speaks of the name of Christ) an Oyntment powred out upon all sorts of sores, A Searcloth that souples all bruises, A Balme that searches all wounds ; so are there some certaine Psalmes, that are Imperiall Psalmes, that command over all affections, and spread themselves over all occasions, Catholique, universal! Psalmes, that apply themselves to all necessities. This is one of those ; for, of those Constitutions which are Constitut. called Apostolicall, one is, That the Church should ^ meet every day, to sing this Psalme. And accordingly, S. Chrysostome testifies, That it was decreed, and ordained Chrysost, by the Primitive Fathers, that no day should passe without the publique singing of this Psalme. Under both these obligations, (those ancient Constitutions, called the Apostles, and those ancient Decrees made by

24 The Psalms.

the primitive Fathers) belongs to me, who have my part in the service of Gods Church, the especiall meditation, and recommendation of this Psalme. And under a third obhgation too, That it is one of those five psalmes, the daily rehearsing whereof, is injoyned to me, by the Constitutions of this Church, as five other are to every other person of our body. As the whole booke is Manna, so these five Psalmes are my Gomer, which I am to fill and empty every day of this Manna.

21. Sanctified Passions.

AS the Prophets, and the other Secretaries of the Jl\ holy Ghost in penning the books of Scriptures, do for the most part retain, and express in their writings some impressions, and some air of their former professions ; those that had been bred in Courts and Cities, those that had been Shepheards and Heardsmen, those that had been Fishers, and so of the rest ; ever inserting into their writings some phrases, some metaphors, some allusions, taken from that profession which they had exercised before ; so that soul, that hath been transported upon any particular worldly pleasure, when it is entirely turn'd upon God, and the contemplation of his all- sufficiency and abundance, doth find in God fit subject, and just occasion to exercise the same affection piously, and religiously, which had before so sinfully transported, and possesst it.

A covetous person, who is now truly converted to God, he will exercise a spiritual covetousness still, he will desire to have him all, he will have good security, the seal and assurance of the holy Ghost ; and he will have

Sanctified Passions. 25

his security often renewed by new testimonies, and increases of those graces in him ; he will have witnesses enough ; he will have the testimonie of all the world, by his good life and conversation ; he will gain every way at Gods hand, he will have wages of God, for he will be his servant ; he will have a portion from God, for he will be his Son ; he will have a reversion, he will be sure that his name is in the book of life ; he will have pawns, the seals of the Sacraments, nay, he will have a present possession ; all that God hath promised, all that Christ hath purchased, all that the Holy Ghost hath the steward- ship and dispensation of, he will have all in present, by the appropriation and investiture of an actual and applying faith ; a covetous person converted will be spiritually covetous still.

So will a voluptuous man, who is turned to God, find plenty and deliciousnes enough in him, to feed his soul, as with marrow, and with fatness, as David expresses it ; and so an angry and passionate man, will find zeal enough in the house of God to eat him up.

All affections which are common to all men, and those to which in particular, particular men have been addicted to, shall not only be justly employed upon God, but also securely employed, because we cannot exceed, nor go too far in imploying them upon him. According to this Rule, St. Paul, who had been so vehement a persecutor, had ever his thoughts exercised upon that ; and thereupon after his conversion, he fulfils the rest of the sufferings of Christ in his flesh, he suffers most, he makes most Col. i. 24* mention of his suffering of any of the Apostles.

And according to this Rule too, Solomon, whose

26 Sanctified Passions.

disposition was amorous, and excessive in the love of women, when he turn'd to God, he departed not utterly from his old phrase and language, but having put a new, and a spiritual tincture, and form and habit in all his thoughts, and words, he conveys all his loving approaches and applications to God, and all Gods gracious answers to his amorous soul, into songs, and Epithalamians, and meditations upon contracts, and marriages between God and his Church, and between God and his soul ; as we see so evidently in all his other writings, and particularly in this text, / love them, &c.

In which words is expressed all that belongs to love, all which, is to desire, and to enjoy ; for to desire without fruition, is a rage, and to enjoy without desire is a stupid- ity : In the first alone we think of nothing, but that which we then would have ; and in the second alone, we are not for that, when we have it ; in the first, we are without it ; in the second, we were as good as we were, for we have no pleasure in it ; nothing then can give us satisfaction, but when those two concurr, amare and frui, to love and to enjoy.

22. Style and Language.

THE Holy Ghost in penning the Scriptures delights himself, not only with a propriety, but with a delicacy, and harmony, and melody of language ; with height of Metaphors, and other figures, which may work greater impressions upon the Readers, and not with barbarous, or triviall, or market, or homely language : It is true, that when the Grecians, and the Romanes, and S. Augustine himselfe, undervalued and despised the

Style and Language. 27

Scriptures, because of the poore and beggerly phrase, that they seemed to be written in, the Christians could say little against it, but turned still upon the other safer way, wee consider the matter, and not the phrase, because for the most part, they had read the Scriptures only in Translations, which could not maintaine the Majesty, nor preserve the elegancies of the Originall.

Their case was somewhat like ours, at the beginning of the Reformation ; when, because most of those men who laboured in that Reformation, came out of the Romane Church, and there had never read the body of the Fathers at large ; but only such ragges and frag- ments of those Fathers, as were patcht together in their Decretat's, and Decretals, and other such Common placers, for their purpose, and to serve their turne, therefore they were loath at first to come to that issue, to try controversies by the Fathers. But as soon as our men that imbraced the Reformation, had had time to reade the Fathers, they were ready enough to joyne with the Adversary in that issue : and still we protest, that we accept that evidence, the testimony of the Fathers, and refuse nothing, which the Fathers unanimly delivered, for matter of faith ; and howsoever at the beginning some men were a Httle ombrageous, and starthng at the name of the Fathers, yet since the Fathers have been well studied, for more then threescore yeares, we have behaved our selves with more reverence towards the Fathers, and more confidence in the Fathers, then they of the Romane perswasion have done, and been lesse apt to suspect or quarrel] their Books, or to reprove their Doctrines, then our Adversaries have been. So, howsoever

28 Style and Language.

the Christians at first were fain to sink a little under that imputation, that their Scriptures have no Majesty, no eloquence, because these embellishments could not appeare in Translations, nor they then read Originalls, yet now, that a perfect knowledge of those languages hath brought us to see the beauty and the glory of those Books, we are able to reply to them, that there are not in all the world so eloquent Books as the Scriptures ; and that nothing is more demonstrable, then that if we would take all those Figures, and Tropes, which are collected out of secular Poets, and Orators, we may give higher, and livelier examples, of every one of those Figures, out of the Scriptures, then out of all the Greek and Latine Poets, and Orators ; and they mistake it much, that thinke, that the Holy Ghost hath rather chosen a low, and barbarous, and homely style, then an eloquent, and powerfull manner of expressing himselfe.

23. Style of the Holy Ghost. Exultaiio. ' I ^HE Holy Ghost is an eloquent Author, a vehement, X and an abundant Author, but yet not luxuriant ; he is far from a penurious, but as far from a superfluous style too.

24. Compliments.

WE have a word now denizened, and brought into familiar use amongst us. Complement ; and for the most part, in an ill sense ; so it is, when the heart of the speaker doth not answer his tongue ; but God forbid but a true heart, and a faire tongue might very well consist together : As vertue it self receives an addition, by being in a faire body, so do good intentions

Compliments. 29

of the heart, by being expressed in faire lan-guage. That man aggravates his condemnation, that gives me good words, and meanes ill ; but he gives me a rich Jewell, and in a faire Cabinet, he gives me precious wine, and in a clean glasse, that intends well, and expresses his good intentions well too. If I beleeve a faire speaker, I have comfort a little while, though he deceive me, but a froward and peremptory refuser, unsaddles me at first. I remem- ber a vulgar Spanish Author, who writes, the losephina, the Hfe of Joseph, the husband of the blessed Virgin Mary, who moving that question, why that Virgin is never called by any style of Majesty, or Honour in the Scriptures, he sayes, That if after the declaring of her to be the Mother of God, he had added any other Title, the Holy Ghost had not been a good Courtier, (as his very word is) nor exercised in good language, and he thinks that had been a defect in the Holy Ghost in himself. He meanes surely the same that Epiphanius doth, That in naming the Saints of God, and especially the blessed Virgin, we should alwayes give them the best Titles that are applyable to them ; Ouis unquam ausus, Epiphan. (sales he) projerre nomen Marice^ i^ non statim addidit "*'^^^- 7^ virgo ? Who ever durst utter the name of that Mary, without that addition of incomparable honour, The Virgin Mary f

That Spanish Author need not be suspitious of the Holy Ghost in that kinde, that he is no good Courtier so ; for in all the books of the world, you shall never reade so civill language, nor so faire expressions of themselves to one another, as in the Bible : When Abraham shall call himself dust, and ashes, (and indeed if the Son of

30 Compliments.

God were a loorme and no man, what was Abraham F) If God shall call this Abraham, this Dust, this Worme of the dust, The friend of God, (and all friendship implyes a parity, an equality in something ;) when David shall call himself a flea, and a dead dog, even in respect of Saul, and God shall call David, A man according to his own heart, when God shall call us, The Apple of his own eye, The Seale upon his own right hand, who would go farther for an Example, or farther then that example for a Rule, of faire accesses, of civill approaches, of sweet and honourable entrances into the affections of them with whom they were to deale ?

25. Lying at Aix.

IYING at Aix, at Aquisgrane, a well known Town J in Germany, and fixing there some time, for the benefit of those Baths, I found my self in a house, which was divided into many families, & indeed so large as it might have been a little Parish, or, at least, a great lim of a great one ; But it was of no Parish : for when I ask'd who lay over my head, they told me a family of Anabaptists ; And who over theirs ? Another family of Anabaptists ; and another family of Anabaptists over theirs, and the whole house, was a nest of these boxes ; several artificers ; all Anabaptists ; I ask'd in what room they met, for the exercise of their Religion ; I was told they never met : for, though they were all Anabaptists, yet for some collateral! differences, they detested one another, and, though many of them, were near in bloud, & alliance to one another, yet the son would excommuni- cate the father, in the room above him, and the Nephew

Lying at Aix. 31

the Uncle. As S. John is said to have quitted that Bath^ into which Cerinthus the Heretique came, so did I this house ; I remembred that Hezekiah in his sicknesse, turn'd himself in his bed, to pray towards that wall, that look'd to lerusaleni ; And that Daniel in Babylon, when he pray'd in his chamber, opened those windows that look'd towards Jerusalem ; for, in the first dedication of the Temple, at lerusalem, there is a promise annest to the prayers made towards the Temple : And I began to think, how many roofs, how many floores of separation, were made between God and my prayers in that house. And such is this multipHcity of sins, which we consider to be got over us, as a roof, as an arch, many arches, many roofs : for, though these habituall sins, be so of kin, as that they grow from one another, and yet for all this kindred excommunicate one another, (for covetous- nesse will not be in the same roome with prodigality) yet it is but going up another stair, and there's the tother Anabaptist ; it is but living a few years, and then the prodigall becomes covetous. All the way, they separate us from God, as a roof, as an arch ; & then, an arch will bear any weight ; An habituall sin got over our head as an arch will stand under any sicknesse, any dishonour, any judgement of God, and never sink towards any humiliation.

26. Farezuell on Goi?ig to Germany.

NOW to make up a circle, by returning to our first word, remember : As we remember God, so for his sake, let us remember one another. In my long absence, and far distance from hence, remember me, as I shall do

32 Farewell on Going to Germany.

you in the ears of that God, to whom the farthest East, and the farthest West are but as the right and left ear in one of us ; we hear with both at once, and he hears in both at once ; remember me, not my abihties ; for when I consider my Apostleship that I was sent to you,

I Cor. 15.9. I am in St. Pauls quorum, quorum ego sum minimus, the least of them that have been sent ; and when I c<jnsider my infirmities, I am in his quorum, in another commission,

I Tim.r. 15, another way, Quorum ego maximus ; the greatest of them ; but remember my labors, and endeavors, at least my desire, to make sure your salvation. And I shall remember your religious cheerfulness in hearing the word, and your christianly respect towards all them that bring that word unto you, and towards my self in particular far bove my merit. And so as your eyes that stay here, and mine that must be far of, for all that distance shall meet every morning, in looking upon that same Sun, and meet every night, in looking upon the same Moon ; so our hearts may meet morning and evening in that God, which sees and hears every where ; that you may come thither to him with your prayers, that I, (if I may be of use for his glory, and your edification in this place) may be restored to you again ; and may come to him with my prayer, that what Paul soever plant amongst you, or what ApoUos soever water, God himself will give the increase : That if I never meet you again till we have all passed the gate of death, yet in the gates of heaven, I may meet you all, and there say to my Saviour and your Saviour, that which he said to his Father and our Father, Of those whom thou hast given me, have I not lost one. Remember me thus, you that stay in this Kingdome

Farewell on Going to Germany. 33

of peace, where no sword is drawn, but the sword of Justice, as I shal remember you in those Kingdomes, where ambition on one side, and a necessary defence from unjust persecution on the other side hath drawn many swords ; and Christ Jesus remember us all in his Kingdome, to which, though we must sail through a sea, it is the sea of his blood, where no soul suffers shipwrack ; though we must be blown with strange winds, with sighs and groans for our sins, yet it is the Spirit of God that blows all this wind, and shall blow away all contrary winds of diffidence or distrust in Gods mercy; where we shall be all Souldiers of one Army, the Lord of Hostes, and children of one Quire, the God of Harmony and consent : where all Clients shall retain but one Counsellor, our Advocate Christ Jesus, not present him any other fee but his own blood, and yet every Client have a Judgment on his side, not only in a not guilty, in the remission of his sins, but in a Venite benedicti, in being called to the participation of an immortal Crown of glory : where there shall be no difference in affection, nor in mind, but we shall agree as fully & perfectly in our Allehijah, and gloria in excelcis, as God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost agreed in the faciamus hominem at first ; where we shall end, and yet begin but then ; where we shall have continual rest, and yet never grow lazie ; where we shall be stronger to resist, and yet have no enemy ; where we shall live and never die, where we shall meet & never part.

2025.3

34 The Vicar of St. Dunstan's.

27. The Vicar of St. Dunstan^s. Onus. "TVT^^ ^^ ^ Matrimoniall state, there is Onus and -L^ Honos, a burden to be born, an Honour to be received. The burden of the sinnes of the whole zvorld, was a burden onely for Christs shoulders ; but the sinnes of this Parish^ will ly upon my shoulders, if I be silent, or if I be indulgent, and denounce not Gods Judgement upon those sinnes. It will be a burden to us, if we doe not, and God knowes it is a burden to us, when we do denounce those Judgements. Esay felt, and groned under this burden, when he cried Onus Bahylonis, Onus Moab, and Onus Damasci, O the burden of Babylon, and the burden of Damascus, and so the other Prophets grone often under this burden, in contemplation of other places : It burdened, it troubled, it grieved the holy Prophets of God, that they must denounce Gods judge- ments, though upon Gods enemies. We reade of a com- passionate Generall, that looking upon his great Army, from a hill, fell into a bitter weeping, upon this considera- tion, that in fiftie or sixtie yeares hence, there will not be a man of these that fight now, alive upon the earth. What Sea could furnish mine eyes with teares enough, to poure out, if I should think, that of all this Congrega- tion, which lookes me in the face now, I should not meet one, at the Resurrection, at the right hand of God ! And for so much as concerns me, it is all one, if none of you be saved, as if none of you be saved by my help, my means, my assistance, my preaching. If I put you upon miraculous wayes, to be saved without hearing, or upon extraordinary wayes to be saved by hearing others, this

The Vicar of St. Dunstan's. 35

shall aggravate my condemnation, though you be saved : How much more heavy must my burden be, if by my negligence both I and you perish too ? So then this calling, this marriage, is a burden every way. When at any midnight I heare a bell toll from this steeple, must, not I say to my selfe, what have I done at any time for the instructing or rectifying of that mans Conscience, who lieth there now ready to deliver up his own account, and my account to Almighty God ? If he be not able to make a good account, he and I are in danger, because I have not enabled him ; and though he be for himself able, that delivers not me, if I have been no instrument for the doing of it. Many, many burdens lie upon this calling, upon this marriage ; but our recompense is, that marriage is as well an honourable as a painefull calling.

28. Funeral Sermon on Magdalen Herbert, Lady Danvers, 1627.

I PROPOSE to my selfe, and to this Congregation, two Workes for this day ; That wee may walke together two miles, in this Sabbath dales journey ; First, To instruct the Living, and then To commemorate the Dead. Which office, as I ought, so I should have performed sooner, but that this sad occasion surprized me under other Pre-obligations and Pre-contracts, in the services of mine own Profession, which could not be excused, nor avoided. And being come now to this double worke, whether I looke up to the Throne of Heaven, and that Firmament, for my first worke. The Instruction of the hiving, or downe to the stones of the Grave, and that

D2

36 Funeral Sermon on

pavement^ for my second worke, The commemoration of the Dead, I need no other words than these which I have read to you, for both purposes ; For, to assist the Resur- rection of your soules, I say, And to assure the Resurrec- tion of your bodies, she saies, Neverthelesse, we according to his promise looke for new Heavens, and new Earth, wherein dwelleth Righteousnesse. . . .

Close we here this Booke of life, from which we have had our first Text, And, Surge, quce dormis in pulvere. Arise, thou Booke of Death ; thou, that sleepest in this consecrated dust, and hast beene going into dust, now, almost a Moneth of dayes, almost a Lunarie yeere, and dost deserve such Anniversaries, such quick returnes of Periods, and a Commemoration, in every such yeere, in every Moneth ; Arise thou, and bee another Comme?itary to us ; and tell us, what this new Heaven, and new Earth is, in which, now, thou dweVst, with that Righteousnesse. But wee doe not invoke thee, as thou art a Saint in Heaven ; Appeare to us, as thou didst appeare to us a moneth agoe ; At least, appeare in thy history ; appeare in our memory ; that when every one of us have lookt upon thee, by his owne glasse, and scene thee in his owne Interest, such, as thou wast to him. That when one shall have scene thee, the best wife. And a larger number, the best mother. And more then they, a whole Towne, the best Neighbour, and more then a Towne, a large body of noble friends, the best Friend, And more than all they, all the world, the best example, when thou hast receiv'd this Testimony from the Militant Church, as thou hast the recompence of all this, in thy Blessed Soule, in the Triumphant, yet, because thy body is still within these Walls, bee still

Magdalen Herbert, Lady Danvers. 37

content, to bee one of this Congregation, and to hcare some parts of this Text re-applied unto thee.

Our first word, Neverthelesse, puts us first upon this consideration. That she liv'd in a time, wherein this Prophecie of Saint Peter, in this Chapter, was over- abundantly perform'd. That there should bee scoffers^ jesters in divine things, and matters appertaining to God^ and his Religion. For, now, in these our dayes, excellency of Wit, lies in prophanenesse ; he is the good Spirit, that dares abuse God ; And hee good company, that makes his company the worse, or keepes them from goodnesse. This being the Aire, and the Complexion of the Wit of her Times, and her inclination, and conversation, naturally, cheerfull, and merry, and loving facetiousnesse, and sharpnesse of wit, Neverthelesse, who ever saw her, who ever heard her countenance a prophane speech^ how sharpe soever, or take part with wit, to the prejudice of Godlinesse ? From this I testify her holy cheerfulnesse, and Religious alacrity, (one of the best evidences of a good conscience) That as shee came to this place, God's house of Prayer, duly, not onely every Sabbath, when it is the house of other exercises, as well as of Prayer, but even in those iveeke-dayes, when it was onely a house of Prayer^ as often as these doores were open for a holy Convocation^ And, as she ever hastned her family and her company hither, with that cheerfull provocation : Tor God's sake let^s go, for God's sake let's bee there at the Confession : So her selfe, with her whole family, (as a Church in that elect Ladle's house, to whom John writ the second Epistle) did, every Sabbath, shut up the day, at night, with a generall, with a cheerfull singing of Psahnes ; This Act of cheerful-

38 Funeral Sermon on

nesse, was still the last Act of that family, united in it selfe, and with God. God loves a cheerfull giver ; Much more, a cheerfull giver of himselfe. Truly, he that can close his eyes, in a holy cheerfulnesse, every night, shall meet no distemper'd, no inordinate, no irregular sadnesse, then, when God^ by the hand of Deaths shall close his eyes, at last.

But, returne we againe to our Neverthelesse ; You may remember, that this word in our former part, put us first upon the consideration of Scoffers at the day of judgement, and then, upon the consideration of Terrours, and sad Apprehensions at that day. And for her, some sicknesses, in the declination of her yeeres, had opened her to an overflowing of Melancholie ; Not that she ever lay under that water, but yet, had sometimes, some high Tides of it ; and, though this distemper would sometimes cast a cloud, and some halfe damps upon her naturall cheer- fulnesse, and sociablenesse, and sometimes induce darke and sad apprehensions, Neverthelesse, who ever heard, or saw in her, any such effect of Melancholy as to murmure, or repine, or dispute upon any of Gods proceedings, or to lodge a Jealousie, or Suspition of his mercy, and goodnesse towards her, and all hers ? The Wit of our time is Prophanenesse ; Neverthelesse, shee, that lov'd that, hated this ; Occasionall Melancholy had taken some hold in her, Neverthelesse, that never Ecclipst, never interrupted her cheerfull confidence, & assurance in God.

Our second word denotes the person : We, Neverthelesse We ; And, here in this consideration, Neverthelesse shee. This may seeme to promise some picture, some

Magdalen Herbert, Lady Danvers. 39

Character of her person. But shee was no stranger to them that heare me now ; nor scarce to any that may heare of this hereafter, which you heare now, and there- fore, much needes not, to that purpose. Yet, to that purpose, of her person, and personall circumstances, thus much I may remember some, and informe others. That from that Worthy family, whence shee had her originall extraction, and birth, she suckt that love of hospitality, * {hospitality, which hath celebrated that family, in many Generations, successively) which dwelt in her, to her end. But in that ground, her Fathers family, shee grew not many yeeres. Transplanted young from thence, by mariage, into another family of Honour, as a flower t that doubles and multiplies by transplantation, she multipHed into ten Children, JoVs number ; and foVs distribution, (as shee, her selfe would very often remem- ber) seven sonnes, and three daughters. And, in this ground, shee grew not many yeeres more, then were necessary, for the producing of so many plants. And being then left to chuse her own ground in her Widow- hood, having at home establisht, and increast the estate, with a faire, & noble Addition, proposing to her selfe, as her principall care, the education of her children, to advance that, shee came with them, and dwelt with them in the Universitie ; and recompenc't to them, the losse of a Father, in giving them two mothers ; her owne

* Daughter of Sir Rich., sister of Sir Fran., Aunt of Sir Richard Neuport, of Arcol.

t Rich. Herbert, of Blachehall, in Montgomery Esqu. lineally descended from that great Sir Rich. Herbert in Ed. 4. time, and father of Ed. Lord Herbert Baron 0/ Castle -Is land, late Embassador in France, and now of his majesties Councel of Warre,

Sir lohn Daavers

onely brother to the Earle of Danby.

40 Funeral Sermon on

personall care, and the advantage of that place ; where shee contracted a friendship, with divers reverend persons, of eminency, and estimation there ; which continued to their ends. And as this was her greatest businesse, so she made this state, a large Period ; for in this state of widowhood, shee continued twelve yeeres. And then, returning to a second marriage, that second marriage turnes us to the consideration of another personall circumstance ; that is, the naturall endowments of her person ; Which were such, as that, (though her virtues were his principal! object) yet, even these, her personall, and naturall, endow- ments, had their part, in drawing, and fixing the affections of such a person, as by his birth, and youth, and interest in great favours in Court, and legall proximity to great possessions in the world, might justly have promist him acceptance, in what family soever, or upon what person soever, hee had directed, and plac't his Affections. He plac't them here ; neither diverted then, nor repented since. For, as the well tuning of an Instrument, makes higher and lower strings, of one sound, so the inequality of their yeeres, was thus reduc't to an evennesse, that shee had a cheerfulnesse, agreeable to his youth, and he had a sober staidnesse, conformable to her more yeeres. So that, I would not consider her, at so much more then forty, nor him, at so much lesse than thirty, at that time, but, as their persons were made one, and their fortunes made one, by mariage, so I would put their yeeres into one number, and finding a sixty betweene them, thinke them thirty a peece ; for, as twins of one houre, they liv'd. God, who join'd them, then, having also separated them now, may make their yeres even, this other way

Magdalen Herbert, Lady Danvers. 41

too ; by giving him, as many yeeres after her going out of this World, as he had given her, before his comming into it ; and then, as many more, as God may receive Glory, and the World, Benefit, by that Addition ; That so, as at their first meeting, she was, at their last meeting, he may bee the elder person.

To this consideration of her person then, belongs this, that God gave her such a contelinesse, as, though shee were not proud of it, yet she was so content with it, as not to goe about to mend it, by anyJrt. And for her J ttire, (which is another personall circumstance), it was never sumptuous, never sordid ; But alwayes agreeable to her quality, and agreeable to her company ; Such as shee might, and such, as others, such as shee was, did weare. For in such things of indifferency in themselves, many times, a singularity may be a little worse, then a fellowship in that, which is not altogether so good. It may be worse, nay, it may be a worse pride, to weare worse things, than others doe. Her rule was mediocrity.

And, as to the consideration of the house, belongs the consideration of the furniture too, so in these personall circumstances, we consider her fortune, her estate. Which was in a faire, and noble proportion, deriv'd from her first husband, and fairely, and nobly dispenc'd, by herselfe, with the allowance of her second. In which shee was one of God's true Stewards, and Almoners too. There are dispositions, which had rather give presents, than pay debts ; and rather doe good to strangers, than to those, that are neerer to them. But shee alwayes thought the care of her family, a debt, and upon that, for the provision^ for the order, for the proportions, in a good largenesse,

42 Funeral Sermon on

shee plac't her first thoughts, of that kinde. For, for OUT families, we are Gods Stewards ; For those without, we are his Almoners. In which office, shee gave not at some great dayes, or some solemne goings abroad, but, as Gods true Almoners, the Sunne, and Moone, that passe on, in a continuall doing of good, as shee receiv'd her daily bread from God, so, daily, she distributed, and imparted it to others. In which office, though she never turn'd her face from those, who in a strict inquisition, might be call'd idle, and vagrant Beggers, yet shee ever look't first, upon them, who laboured, and whose labours could not overcome the difficulties, nor bring in the necessities of this life ; and to the szveat of their brozves, shee contri- buted, even her wine, and her oyle, and any thing that was, and any thing, that might be, if it were not, prepar'd for her owne table. And as her house was a Court, in the conversation of the best, and an Almeshouse, in feeding the poore ; so was it also an Hospitall, in ministring releefe to the sicke. And truly, the love of doing good in this kind, of ministring to the sicke, was the hony, that was spread over all her bread ; the Aire, the Perfume, that breath'd over all her house ; The disposition that dwelt in those her children, and those her kindred, which dwelt with her, so bending this way, that the studies and knowledge of one, the hand of another, and purse of all, and a joyntfacility, and opennesse, and accessiblenesse to persons of the meanest quality, con- cur'd in this blessed Act of Charity, to minister releefe to the sicke. Of which, my selfe, who, at that time, had the favour to bee admitted into that family, can, and must testifie this, that when the late heavy visitation fell

Magdalen Herbert, Lady Danvers. 43

Jiotly upon this Towne, when every doore was shut up, and, lest Death should enter into the house, every house was made a Sepulchre of them that were in it, then, then, in that time of injection, divers persons visited with that infection, had their releefe, and releefe applicable to that very infection, from this house.

Now when I have said thus much, (rather thus little) of her person, as of a house. That the ground upon which it was built, was the family where she was borne, and then, where she was married, and then, the time of her widow- hood, and lastly, her last marriage. And that the house it selfe, was those fair bodily endowments, which God had bestow'd upon her, And the. furniture of that house, the fortune, and the use of that fortune, of which God had made her Steward and Almoner, when I shall also have said, that the Inhabitants of this house, (rather the servants, for they did but wait upon Religion in her) were those married couples, of morall virtues. Conversation married with a Retirednesse, Facility married with a Reservednesse, Alacrity married with a T hough tfulnesse, and Largenesse married with a Providence, I may have leave to depart from this consideration of her person^ and personall circumstances, lest by insisting longer upon them, I should seeme to pretend, to say all the good, that might bee said of her ; But that's not in ray purpose ; yet, onely therefore, because it is not in my power ; For I would do her all right, and all you that good, if I could, to say all. But, I haste to an end, in consideration of some things, that appertaine more expressly to me, then these personall, or civill, or morall things doe.

In those, the next is, the secundum promissa, that shee

44 Funeral Sermon on

govern'd herself, according to his promises ; his promises, laid downe in his Scriptures. For, as the rule of all her civill Actions, was Religion, so, the rule of her Religion, was the Scripture ; And, her rule, for her particular understanding of the Scripture, was the Church. Shee never diverted towards the Papist, in undervaluing the Scripture ; nor towards the Separatist, in undervaluing the Church. But in the doctrine, and discipline of that Church, in which, God seal'd her, to himselfe, in Baptisme, shee brought up her children, shee assisted her family, she dedicated her soule to God in her life, and surrendered it to him in her death ; And, in that forme of Common Prayer, which is ordain'd by that Church, and to which she had accustom'd her selfe, with her family, twice every day, she joyn'd with that company, which was about her death-bed, in answering to every part thereof, which the Congregation is directed to answer to, with a cleere understanding, with a constant memory, with a distinct voyce, not two hours before she died.

According to this promise, that is, the will of God manifested in the Scriptures, She expected ; Shee expected this, that she hath received ; Gods Physicke, and Gods Musicke ; a Christianly death. For, death, in the old Testament was a Commination ; but in the new Testa- ment, death is a Promise ; When there was a Super-dying, a death upon the death, a Morte upon the Morieris, a Spirituall death after the bodily, then wee died according to Gods threatening ; Now, when by the Gospell, that second death is taken off, though wee die still, yet we die according to his Promise, That's a part of his mercy, and his Promise, which his Apostle gives us from him, That

Magdalen Herbert, Lady Danvers. 45

wee shall all bee changed ; For, after that promise, that 1C0r.15.s1.

change, fellow's that triumphant Acclamation, O death

where is thy sting, 0 grave where is thy victory ? Consider

us fallen in Adam, and wee are miserable, that wee must

die ; but consider us restor'd, and redintegrated in

Christ, wee were more miserable if we might not die ;

Wee lost the earthly Paradise by death then ; but wee

get not Heaven, but by death, now. This shee expected

till it came, and embrac't it when it came. How may we

thinke, shee was joy'd to see that face, that Angels delight

to looke upon, the face of her Saviour, that did not abhor

the face of his fearfullest Messenger, Death ? Shee

shew'd no feare of his face, in any change of her owne ;

but died without any change of countenance, or posture ;

without any strugling, any disorder ; but her Death-bed

was as quiet, as her Grave. To another Magdalen,

Christ said upon earth, Touch me not, for I am not ascended.

Being ascended now, to his glory, and she being gone up

to him, after shee had awaited his leisure, so many yeeres,

as that more, would soone have growne to bee vexation,

and sorrow, as her last words here, were, / submit my will

to the will of God ; so wee doubt not, but the first word

which she heard there, was that Euge, from her Saviour,

Well done good and faithfull servant; enter into thy

masters joy.

Shee expected that ; dissolution of body, and soule ; and rest in both, from the incumbrances, and tentations of this world. But yet, shee is in expectation still ; Still a Reversionarie ; and a Reversionary upon a long Hfe ; the whole world must die, before she come to a possession of this Reversion ; which is a Glorified body in the Resur-

46 Funeral Sermon on

rection. In which expectation, she return's to her former charity ; shee will not have that, till all wee, shall have it, as well as shee ; She eat not her morsels alone, in her life,

Job 31. 17. (as Job speakes) She lookes not for the glory of the Resur- rection alone, after her death. But when all wee, shall have been mellowd in the earth, many yeeres, or chang'd in the Aire, in the twinkling of an eye, {God knowes which) That body upon which you tread now. That body which now, whilst I speake, is mouldering, and crumbling into lesse, and lesse dust, and so hath some motion, though no life. That body, which was the Taber- nacle of a holy Soule, and a Temple of the holy Ghost, That body that was eyes to the blinde, and hands, and feet to the lame, whilst it liv'd, and being dead, is so still, by having beene so lively an example, to teach others, to be so. That body at last, shall have her last expectation satisfied, and dwell bodily, with that Righteousnesse, in these new Heavens, and new Earth, for ever, and ever, and ever, and infinite, and super-infinite evers. Wee end all, with the valediction of the Spouse to Christ : His

Cant. 8. 3. left hand is under my head, and his right embraces mee, was the Spouses valediction, and good night to Christ then, when she laid her selfe down to sleep in the strength of his Mandrakes, and in the power of his Spices, as it is exprest there ; that is, in the influence of his mercies. Beloved, every good Soule is the spouse of Christ. And this good Soule, being thus laid downe to sleepe in his peace. His left hand under her head, gathering, and composing, and preserving her dust for future Glory ; His right hand embracing her, assuming, and estabhshing her soule in present Glory, in his name, and in her behalf e^

Magdalen Herbert, Lady Danvers. 47

I say that, to all you, which Christ sayes there, in the behalf e of that Spouse, J djuro vos, I adjure you, I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that yee wake her not, till she please. The words are directed to the daughters, rather than to the sons of Jerusalem, because for the most part, the aspersions that women receive, either in Morall or Religious actions, proceed from women them- selves. Therefore, Adjuro vos, I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, wake her not. Wake her not, with any halfe calumnies, with any whisperings ; But if you wil wake her, wake her, and keepe her awake with an active imitation, of her Morall, and her Holy virtues. That so her example working upon you, and the number of Gods Saints, being, the sooner, by this blessed example, fulfil'd, wee may all meet, and meet quickly in that kingdome, which hers, and our Saviour, hath purchac't for us all, with the inestimable price, of his incorruptible bloud. To which glorious Sonne of God, &c.

29. Death of Elizabeth and Accession of James I.

GODS hand hath been abundant towards us, in raising Ministers of State, so qualified, and so endowed ; and such Princes as have fastned their friendships, and conferred their favors upon such persons. We celebrate, seasonably, opportunely, the thankful acknowledgement of these mercies, this day : This day, which God made for us, according to the pattern of his first days in the Creation ; where, Vesper iff mane dies unus, the evening first, and then the morning made up the day ; for, here the saddest night, and the joyfullest morning, that ever the daughters of this Island saw, made up this day.

48 Death of Elizabeth and

Consider the tears of Richmond this night, and the joys of London^ at this place, at this time, in the morning ; and we shall find Prophecy even in that saying of the Poet, Nocte pluit tola, showers of rain all night, of weeping for our Sovereign ; and we would not be comforted, Matt. 2. 18. because she was not : And yet, redeunt spectacula mane, the same hearts, the same eyes, the same hands were all directed upon recognitions, and acclamations of her successor in the morning : And when every one of you in the City, were running up and down like Ants with their eggs bigger then themselves, every man with his bags, to seek where to hide them safely. Almighty God shed down his Spirit of Unity, ^nd recollecting, and reposedness, and acquiescence upon you all. In the death of that Queen, unmatchable, inimitable in her sex ; that Queen, worthy, I will not say of Nestors years, I will not say of Methusalems, but worthy of Adams years, if Adam had never fain ; in her death we were all under one common flood, and depth of tears. But the Spirit of God moved upon the face of that depth ; and God said, Let there be light, and there was light, and God saw that that light was good. God took pleasure, and found a savor of rest, in our peaceful chearfulness, and in our joyful and confident apprehension of blessed days in his Govern- ment, whom he had prepared at first, and preserved so often for us.

As the Rule is true, Cum de Malo principe posteri tacent,

Pliniusad manifestiim est vilem facere prcesentem, when men dare

Trajan. ^^^ speak of the vices of a Prince that is dead, it is

certain that the Prince that is alive proceeds in the same

vices ; so the inversion of the Rule is true too, Cum de

Accession of James I. 49

bono principe loquuntur, when men may speak freely

of the virtues of a dead Prince, it is an evident argument,

that the present Prince practises the same virtues ; for,

if he did not, he would not love to hear of them. Of her^

we may say (that which was well said, and therefore it

were pity it should not be once truly said, for, so it was

not, when it was first said to the Emperor Julian) Nihil

humile, aut abjectum cogitavity quia novit de se semper

loquendum ; she knew the world would talk of her after

her death, and therefore she did such things all her life

were worthy to be talked of. Of her glorious successor,

and our gracious Soveraign, we may say ; Onerosum est

succedere bono Principi, It would have troubled any king Ibid.

but him, to have come in succession, and in comparison

with such a Queen. And in them both we may observe

the unsearchableness of the ways of God ; of them both,

we may say, Dominus fecit, It is the Lord that hath done it,

and it is wonderful in our eyes : First, that a woman Psalm nS.

and a maid should have all the wars of Christendom in '^'

her contemplation, and govern and ballance them all ;

And then, that a King, born and bred in a warlike Nation,

and so accustomed to the sword, as that it had been

directed upon his own person, in the strength of his age,

and in his Infancy, in his Cradle, in his mothers belly,

should yet have the blessed spirit of peace so abundantly

in him, as that by his Councils, and his authority, he

should sheath all the swords of Christendom again.

30J5'3

50 The Gunpowder Plot.

30. The Gunpowder Plot. Psal. 2. 1. ^\UARE fremuerunt, Why did these men rage, and «^ imagine a vaine thing ? What they did historically, we know ; They made that house, which is the hive of the Kingdome, from whence all her honey comes ; that house where Justice herself is conceived, in their preparing of Laws, and inanimated, and quickned and borne by the Royall Assent, there given ; they made that whole house one Murdring feece, and charged that peece with Peers, with People, with Princes, with the King, and meant to discharge it upward at the face of heaven, to shoot God at the face of God, Him, of whom God hath said, Dii estis. You are Gods, at the face of God, that had said so, as though they would have reproached the God of heaven, and not have been beholden to him for such a King, but shoot him up to him, and bid him take his King again, with a nolumus hunc regnare, we will not have this King to reign over us.

31. Preached to the Honourable Company of the Virginian Plantation, 1622.

BELOVED in him, whose kingdome, and Ghospell you seeke to advance, in this Plantation, our Lord and Saviour Christ Jesus, if you seeke to establish a temporall kingdome there, you are not rectified, if you seeke to bee Kings in either acceptation of the word ; To be a King signifies Libertie and independency, and Supremacie, to bee under no man, and to be a King signifies Abundance, and Omnisufficiencie, to neede no man. If those that governe there, would establish such

The Virginian Plantation. 51

a government, as should not depend upon this, or if those that goe thither, propose to themselves an exemp- tion from Lawes, to live at their libertie, this is to be Kings, to devest Allegeance, to bee under no man : and if those that adventure thither, propose to themselves present benefit, and profit, a sodaine way to bee rich, and an aboundance of all desirable commodities from thence, this is to be sufficient of themselves, and to need no man : and to bee under no man and to need no man, are the two acceptations of being Kings. Whom liberty drawes to goe, or present profit drawes to adventure, are not yet in the right way. O, if you could once bring a Catechisme to bee as good ware amongst them as a Bugle, as a knife, as a hatchet : O, if you would be as ready to hearken at the returne of a Ship, how many Indians were converted to Christ Jesus, as what Trees, or druggs, or Dyes that Ship had brought, then you were in your right way, and not till then ; Libertie and Abundance, are Characters of kingdomes, and a kingdome is excluded in the Text ; the Apostles were not to looke for it, in their employment, nor you in this your Planta- tion. . . .

God ment from the first howre, to people the whole earth ; and God could have made men of clay, as fast as they made Brickes of Clay in Egypt ; but he began upon two, and when they had been multiplying and re- plenishing the Earth One thousand sixe hundred yeares, the Flood washed all that away, and God was almost to begin againe upon eight persons ; and they have serv'd to people Earth and Heaven too ; Be not you discouraged, if the Promises which you have made to

£ 2

52 The Virginian Plantation.

your selves, or to others, be not so soone discharg'd ; though you see not your money, though you see not your men, though a Flood, a Flood of blond have broken in upon them, be not discouraged. Great Creatures ly long in the wombe ; Lyons are litter'd perfit, but Beare whelps lick'd unto their shape ; actions which Kings undertake, are cast in a mould ; they have their perfection quickly; actions of private men, and private purses, require more hammering, and more filing to their perfection. . . .

God sayes to you. No Kingdoms, not ease, not abundance ; nay nothing at all yet ; the Plantation shall not discharge the Charges, not defray it selfe yet ; but yet already, now at first, it shall conduce to great uses ; It shall redeeme many a wretch from the Jawes of death, from the hands of the Executioner, upon whom, perchaunce a small fault, or perchance a first fault, or perchance a fault heartily and sincerely repented, perchance no fault, but malice, had otherwise cast a present, and ignominious death. It shall sweep your streets, and wash your dores, from idle persons, and the children of idle persons, and imploy them : and truely, if the whole Countrey were but such a Bridewell, to force idle persons to work, it had a good use. But it is already, not onely a Spleene, to draine the ill humours of the body, but a Liver, to breed good bloud ; already the imployment breeds Marriners ; already the place gives essayes, nay Fraytes of Marchantable commodities ; already it is a marke for the Envy, and for the ambition of our Enemies ; I speake but of our Doctrinall, not Nationall Enemies ; as they are Papists, they are sory we have this Countrey ;

The Virginian Plantation. 53

and surely, twenty Lectures in matter of Controversie, doe not so much vexe them, as one Ship that goes, & strengthens that Plantation. Neither can I recommend it to you by any better Retorique, then their malice. They would gladly have it, and therefore let us bee glad to hold it. . . .

Those of our profession that goe, you, that send them who goe, do all an Apostolicall function. What action soever, hath in the first intention thereof, a purpose to propagate the Gospell of Christ JesuSy that is an Apostolicall action. Before the ende of the world come, fcefore this mortality shall put on immortalitie, before the Creature shall be delivered of the bondage of corrup- tion under which it groanes, before the Martyrs under Rom. S. the Altar shall be silenc'd, before all things shall be subdued to Christ, his kingdome, perfected, & the last Enemy Death destroied, the Gospell must be preached to those men to whom ye send ; to all men ; furder and hasten you this blessed, this joyfull, this glorious consum- mation of all, and happie reunion of all bodies to their Soules, by preaching the Gospell to those men. Preach to them Doctrinally, preach to them Practically ; Enamore them with your Justice, and (as farre as may consist with your security), your Civilitie ; but inflame them with your godlinesses and your Religion. Bring them to love and Reverence the name of that King, that sends men to teach them the wayes of Civilitie in this world, but to Jeare and adore the Name of that King of Kings, that sends men to teach them the waies of Religion, for the next world. Those amongst you, that are old now, shall passe out of this world with this great comfort, that

54 The Virginian Plantation.

you contributed to the beginning of that Common Wealth, and of that Church, though they live not to see the groath thereof to perfection : Apollos watred, but 1 Cor. 3. 6. Paul planted ; hee that begun the worke, was the greater man. And you that are young now, may live to see the Enemy as much empeach'd by that place, and your friends, yea Children, as well accommodated in that place, as any other. You shall have made this Hand, which is but as the Suburbs of the old world, a Bridge, a Gallery to the new ; to joyne all to that world that shall never grow old, the Kingdome of heaven. You shall add persons to this Kingdome, and to the Kingdome of heaven, and adde names to the Bookes of our Chronicles, and to the Booke of Life.

To end all, as the Orators which declaimd in the presence of the Roman Emperors, in their Panegyriques, tooke that way to make those Emperours see, what they were bound to doe, to say in those pubUque Orations, that those Emporors had done so (for that increased the love of the Subject to the Prince, to bee so tolde, that hee had done those great things, and then it convayd a Counsell into the Prince to do them after.) As their way was to procure things to bee done, by saying they were done, so beloved I have taken a contrary way : for when I, by way of exhortation, all this while have seem'd to tell you what should be done by you, I have, indeed, but told the Congregation, what hath beene done already : neither do I speake to move a wheele that stood still, but to keepe the wheele in due motion ; nor persuade you to begin, but to continue a good worke ; nor propose foreigne, but your own Examples, to do still,

The Virginian Plantation. 55

as you have done hitherto. For, for that, that which is especially in my contemplation, the conversion of the people, as I have receiv'd, so I can give this Testimony, that of those persons, who have sent in moneys, and conceal'd their names, the greatest part, almost all, have limited their devotion, and contribution upon that point, the propagation of Religion, and the conversion of the people ; for the building and beautifying of the house of God, and for the instruction and education of their young Children. Christ Jesus himself is yesterday, and to day, and the same for ever. In the advancing of his glory, be you so to, yesterday, and to day, and the same for ever, here ; and hereafter, when time shall be no more, no more yesterday, no more to day, yet for ever and ever, you shall enjoy that joy, and that glorie, which no ill accident can attaine to diminish, or Eclipse it.

32. The Mission of England.

CHRIST came per mundam in mundum, by a clean woman into an unclean world. And he came in a purpose, (as we do piously beheve) to manifest himself in the Christian Rehgion to all the nations of the world ; and therefore, Lcetentur Insula, sales David, The Lord reigneth let the Islands rejoice the Islands who by reason of their situation, provision and trading, have most means of conveying Christ Jesus over the world. He hath carried us up to heaven, & set us at the right hand of God, & shal not we endeavour to carry him to those nations, who have not yet heard of his nanie ? shall we still brag that we have brought our clothes, and our hatchets, and our knives, and bread to this and this

5 6 The Mission of England.

value and estimation amongst those poor ignorant Souls, and shall we never glory that we have brought the name, and Religion of Christ Jesus in estimation amongst them ? shall we stay till other nations have planted a fals Christ among them ? and then either continue in our sloth, or take more pains in rooting out a false Christ then would have planted the true ? Christ is come into the world ; we will do httle, if we will not ferry him over, and propagate his name, as well as our own to other Nations.

33. James I.

WE say sometimes in scorn to a man, God help yon^ and God send you wit ; and therein, though it have the sound of a prayer, wee call him foole. So wee have seen of late, some in obscure Conventicles, institute certain prayers, That God would keep the King, and the Prince in the true Religion ; The prayer is always good, always usefull ; but when that prayer is accompanied with circumstances, as though the King and the Prince were declining from that Religion, then even the prayer it selfe is libellous, and seditious ; Saint Paul, in that former place, apparels a Subjects prayer well, when hee sayes, Let prayers hee given with thanks ; Let our prayers bee for continuance of the blessings, which wee have, and let our acknowledgement of present blessings, bee an inducement for future : pray, and praise together ; pray thankfully, pray not suspiciously ; for, beloved in the bowels of Christ Jesus, before whose face I stand now, and before whose face, I shall not be able to stand amongst the righteous, at the last day, if I lie now, and

James I. 57

make this Pulpit my Shop, to vent sophisticate Wares, In the presence of you, a holy part, I hope, of the Militant Church, of which I am. In the presence of the whole Triumphant Church, of which, by him, by whom I am that I am, I hope to bee. In the presence of the Head of the whole Church, who is All in all, I, {and I thinke I have the Spirit of God ^ (I am sure, I have not resisted it in this i Cor.-;.44. point) I, (and I may bee allowed to know something in Civill affaires) (I am sure I have not been stupefied in this point) doe deliver that, which upon the truth of a Morall man, and a Christian man, and a Church man, beleeve to be true. That hee, who is the Breath of our nostrils, is in his heart, as farre from submitting us to that Idolatry, and superstition, which did hereto- fore oppresse us, as his immediate Predecessor, whose memory is justly precious to you, was : Their wayes may bee divers, and yet their end the same, that is. The glory of God ; And to a higher Comparison, then to her, I know not how to carry it.

34. Death of James I.

WHEN you shall find that hand that had signed to one of you a Patent for Title, to another for Pension, to another for Pardon, to another for Dispensa- tion, Dead : That hand that settled Possessions by his Seale, in the Keeper, and rectified Honours by the sword, in his Marshall, and distributed relief to the Poore, in his Almoner, and Health to the Diseased, by his immediate Touch, Dead : That Hand that ballanced his own three Kingdomes so equally, as that none of them complained of one another, nor of him, and carried the Keyes of all

58 Death of James I.

the Christian world, and locked up, and let out Armies in their due season. Dead ; how poore, how faint, how pale, how momentany, how transitory, how empty, how frivolous, how Dead things, must you necessarily thinke Titles, and Possessions, and Favours, and all, when you see that Hand, which was the hand of Destinie, of Christian Destinie, of the Almighty God, lie dead ? It was not so hard a hand when we touched it last, nor so cold a hand when we kissed it last : That hand which was wont to wife all te ares from all our eyes, doth now but presse and squeaze us as so many spunges, filled one with one, another with another cause of teares. Teares that can have no other banke to bound them, but the declared and manifested will of God : For, till our teares flow to that heighth, that they might be called a murmuring against the declared will of God, it is against our Allegiance, it is Disloyaltie, to give our teares any stop, any termina- tion, any measure.

35. The Plague, 1625.

BELOVED, as God empayl'd a Goshen in Egypt, a place for the righteous amongst the wicked ; so there is an Egypt in every Goshen, neasts of Snakes in the fairest Gardens, and even in this City (which in the sense of the Gospel, we may call, The holy City ; as Christ called Jerusalem, though she had multiplied transgressions, The Holy City, because she had not cast away his Law, though she had disobeyed it : So howso- ever your sins have provoked God, yet as you retain a zealous profession of the truth of his Religion, I may in his name, and do in the bowels of his mercy, call you,

The Plague, 1625. 59

I'he Holy City) even in this City, no doubt but the hand of God fell upon thousands in this deadly infection, who were no more affected with it, than those Egyptians, to cry out, Omnes Moriemur, We can but die, and we must die : And, Edamus, i^ bibamus, eras moriemur. Let us eat and drink, and take our -pleasure, and make our profits, jor to-morrow we shall die, and so were cut off by the hand of God, some even in their robberies, in half-empty houses ; and in their drunkenness in voluptuous and riotous houses ; and in their lusts and wantonness in licentious houses ; and so took in infection and death, like Judas's sop, death dipt and soaked in sin. Men whose lust carried them into the jaws of infection in lewd houses, and seeking one sore perished with another ; men whose rapine and covetousness broke into houses, and seeking the Wardrobes of others, found their own winding-sheet, in the infection of that house where they stole their own death ; men who sought no other way to divert sadness, but strong drink in riotous houses, and there drank up Davids cup of Malediction, the cup of Condemned men, of death, in the infection of that place. For these men that died in their sins, that sinned in their dying, that sought and hunted after death so sinfully, we have little comfort of such men, in the phrase of this Text, They were dead ; for they are dead still : As Moses said of the Egyptians, I am afraid we may say of these men. We shall see them no more for ever.

But God will give us the comfort of this phrase in the next House ; This next House is Domus nostra, our Dwelling-House, our Habitation, our Family ; and there, Ihey were dead ; they were, but by Gods goodness

6o The Plague, 1625.

they are not. If this savor of death have been the savor of life unto us ; if this heavy weight of Gods hand upon us have awakened us to a narrower survey, and a better discharge of our duties towards all the parts of our Families, we may say, to our comforts and his glory, There was a son dead in disobedience and murmuring ; there was a daughter dead in a dangerous easiness of conversation ; there was a servant dead in the practice of deceit and falsifying ; there was, but the Lord hath breath'd a new life into us, the Lord hath made even his tempest a refreshing, and putrefaction a perfume unto us. The same measure of wind that blows out a candle, kindles a fire ; this correction that hath hardned some, hath entendred and mollified us ; and howsoever there were dead sons, and dead daughters, and dead servants, this holy sense of Gods Judgements shall not only preserve for the future, that we shall admit no more such dead limbs into our Family, but even give to them who were (in these kindes) formerly dead, a new life, a blessed resurrection from all their sinful habits, by the power of his grace, though reached to them with a bloody hand, and in a bitter cup, in this heavy calamity ; and as Christ said of himself, they shall say in him, I was deady but am alive ; and by that grace of God, I am that I am. . . .

Lastly, in this fourth house, the house where we stand now, the house of God, and of his Saints, God affords us a fair beam of this consolation, in the phrase of this Text also, They were dead. How appliable to you, in this place, is that which God said to Moses, Put off thy shoes, for thou treadest on holy ground ; put off all confidence,

The Plague, 1625. 61

all standing, all relying upon worldly assurances, and consider upon what ground you tread ; upon ground so holy, as that all the ground is made of the bodies of Christians, and therein hath received a second consecra- tion. Every puff of wind within these walls, may blow the father into the sons eys, or the wife into her husbands, or his into hers, or both into their childrens, or their childrens into both. Every grain of dust that flies here, is a piece of a Christian ; you need not distinguish your Pews by figures ; you need not say, I sit within so many of such a neighbour, but I sit within so many inches of my husbands, or wives, or childes, or friendes grave. Ambitious men never made more shift for places in Court, then dead men for graves in Churches ; and as in our later times, we have seen two and two almost in every Place and Office, so almost every Grave is oppressed with twins ; and as at Christs resurrection some of the dead arose out of their graves, that were buried again ; so in this lamentable calamity, the dead were buried, and thrown up again before they were resolved to dust, to make room for more.

36. Difficult Times. AS in the Arke there were Lions, but the Lion shut -ZTL his mouth, and clincht his paw, (the Lion hurt nothing in the Arke) and in the Arke there were Vipers and Scorpions, but the Viper shewed no teeth, nor the Scorpion no taile, (the Viper bit none, the Scorpion stung none in the Arke) (for, if they had occasioned any disorder there, their escape could have been but into the Sea, into irreparable ruine) so, in every State, (though

62 Difficult Times.

that State be an Arke of peace, and preservation) there will be some kind of oppression in some Lions, some that will abuse their power ; but Vce si scandalizemur, woe unto us if we be scandalized with that, and seditiously lay aspersions upon the State and Government, because there are some such in every Church, (though that Church bee an Arke, for integrity and sincerity) there will bee some Vipers, Vipers that will gnaw at their Mothers belly, men that will shake the articles of Religion ; But Vce si scandalizemur, woe if we be so scandalized at that, as to defame that Church, or separate our selves from that Church which hath given us our Baptism, for that. It is the chafing of the Lion, and the stirring of the Viper, that aggravates the danger ; The first blow makes the wrong, but the second makes the fray ; and they that will endure no kind of abuse in State or Church, are many times more dangerous then that abuse w*^'^ they oppose. It was only Christ Jesus himself that could say Mar. 4. 39. to the Tempest, lace, obmutesce, peace, be still, not a blast, not a sob more ; onely he could becalm a Tempest at once. It is well with us, if we can ride out a storm at anchour ; that is, lie still and expect, and surrender our selves to God, and anchor in that confidence, till the storm blow over. It is well for us if we can beat out a storm at sea, with boarding to and again ; that is, maintain and preserve our present condition in Church, and State, though we encrease not, that though we gain no way, yet wee lose no way whilst the storm lasts. It is well for us, if, though we be put to take in our sayls, and to take down our masts, yet we can hull it out ; that is, if in storms of contradiction, or persecution,

Difficult Times. 63

the Church, or State, though they be put to accept worse conditions then before, and to depart with some of their outward splendor, be yet able to subsist and swimme above water, and reserve it selfe for Gods farther glory, after the storme is past ; onely Christ could becalm the storme ; He is a good Christian that can ride out, or board out, or hull out a storme, that by industry, as long as he can, and by patience, when he can do no more, over-lives a storm, and does not forsake his ship for it, that is not scandalized with that State, nor that Church, of which he is a member, for those abuses that are in it. The Arke is peace, peace is good dispositions to one another, good intepretations of one another ; for, if our impatience put us from our peace, and so out of the Arke, all without the Arke is sea ; The bottomlesse and boundlesse Sea of Rome, will hope to swallow us, if we dis-unite our selves, in uncharitable mis-interpretations of one another.

37. Polemical Preaching.

THERE was a time but lately, when he who was in his desire and intension, the Peace-maker of all the Christian world, as he had a desire to have slumbred all Field-drums, so had he also to have slumbred all Pulpit-drums, so far, as to passe over all impertinent handling of Controversies, meerly and professedly as Controversies, though never by way of positive main- tenance of Orthodoxall and fundamentall Truths ; That so there might be no slackning in the defence of the truth of our Religion, and yet there might bee a discreet and temperate forbearing of personall, and especially of

64 Polemical Preaching.

Nationall exasperations. And as this way had piety, and peace in the worke it selfe, so was it then occasionally exalted, by a great necessity ; He, who was then our hope, and is now the breath of our nostrils, and the Anointed of the Lord, being then taken in their pits, and, in that great respect, such exasperations the fitter to be forborne, especially since that course might well bee held, without any prevarication, or cooling the zeale of the positive maintenance of the religion of our Church. But things standing now in another state, and all peace, both Ecclesiasticall and Civill, with these men, being by themselves removed, and taken away, and hee whom we feared, returned in all kinde of safety, safe in body, and safe in soule too, whom though their Church could not, their Court hath chatechised in their religion, that is, brought him to a cleere understanding of their Ambi- tion, (for Ambition is their Religion, and S. Peters Ship must saile in their Fleets, and with their winds, or it must sink, and the Catholique and Militant Church must march in their Armies, though those Armies march against Rome it selfe, as heretofore they have done, to the sacking of that Towne, to the holding of the Pope himselfe in so sordid a prison, for sixe moneihs, as that some of his nearest servants about him died of the plague, to the treading under foot Priests, and Bishops, and Cardinals, to the dishonouring of Matrons, and the ravishing of professed Virgins, and committing such insolencies, Catholiques upon Catholiques, as they would call us Heretiques for beleeving them, but that they are their owne Catholique Authors that have written them) Things being now, I say, in this state, with these men,

Polemical Preaching. 65

since wee heare that Drums beat in every field abroad, it becomes us also to returne to the brasing and beating of our Drums in the Pulpit too, that so, as Adam did not onely dresse Paradise, but keepe Paradise ; and as the children of God, did not onely build, but build with one hand, and fight with another ; so wee also may employ some of our Meditations upon supplanting, and subverting of error, as well as upon the planting, and watering of the Truth.

38. The World Decays,

AS the world is the whole frame of the world, God Mundus Jl\. hath put into it a reproofe, a rebuke, lest it should "^^""^* seem eternall, which is, a sensible decay and age in the whole frame of the world, and every piece thereof. The seasons of the yeare irregular and distempered ; the Sun fainter, and languishing ; men lesse in stature, and shorter- lived. No addition, but only every yeare, new sorts, new species of wormes, and flies, and sicknesses, which argue more and more putrefaction of which they are engendred. And the Angels of heaven, which did so familiarly converse with men in the beginning of the world, though they may not be doubted to perform to us still their ministeriall assistances, yet they seem so far to have deserted this world, as that they do not appeare to us, as they did to those our Fathers. S. Cyprian observed Cyprian, this in his time, when writing to DemetrianuSy who im- puted all those calamities which afflicted the world then, to the impiety of the Christians who would not joyne with them in the worship of their gods, Cyprian went no farther for the cause of these calamities, but Ad

2025*3 F

66 The World Decays.

senescentem mmidum, To the age and impotency of the whole world ; And therefore, sayes he, Imputent scnes Christianis, quod minus valeant in senectutem ; Old men were best accuse Christians, that they are more sickly in their age, then they were in their youth ; Is the fault in our religion, or in their decay ? Canos in pueris videmus, nee cBtas in senectute desinit, sed incipit a seneetute ; We see gray haires in children, and we do not die old, and yet we are borne old. Lest the world (as the world signifies the whole frame of the world) should glorifie it selfe, or flatter, and abuse us with an opinion of eternity, we may admit usefully (though we do not conclude peremp- torily) this observation to be true, that there is a reproofe, a rebuke born in it, a sensible decay and mortality of the whole world.

39. Imperfection. 2. Tart. X NEED not call in new Philosophy, that denies JL a settlednesse, an acquiescence in the very body of the Earth, but makes the Earth to move in that place, where we thought the Sunne had moved ; I need not that helpe, that the Earth it selfe is in Motion, to prove this, That nothing upon Earth is permanent ; The Assertion will stand of it selfe, till some man assigne me some instance, something that a man may relie upon, and find permanent. Consider the greatest Bodies upon Earth, The Monarchies ; Objects, which one would thinke. Destiny might stand and stare at, but not shake ; Consider the smallest bodies upon Earth, The haires of our head, Objects, which one would thinke, Destiny would not observe, or could not discerne ; And yet,

Imperfection. 67

Destiny, (to speak to a naturall man) And God, (to speake

to a Christian) is no more troubled to make a Monarchy

ruinous, then to make a haire gray. Nay, nothing needs

be done to either, by God, or Destiny ; A Monarchy

will ruine, as a haire will grow gray, of it selfe. In

the Elements themselves, of which all sub-elementary

things are composed, there is no acquiescence, but a

vicissitudinary transmutation into one another ; Ayre

condensed becomes water, a more solid body. And Ayre

rarified becomes fire, a body more disputable, and in-

apparant. It is so in the Conditions of men too ; A

Merchant condensed, kneaded and packed up in a great

estate, becomes a Lord ; And a Marchant rarified,

blown up by a perfidious Factor, or by a riotous Sonne,

evaporates into ayre, into nothing, and is not seen. And

if there were any thing permanent and durable in this

world, yet we got nothing by it, because howsoever

that might last in it selfe, yet we could not last to enjoy

it ; If our goods were not amongst Moveables, yet we

our selves are ; if they could stay with us, yet we cannot

stay with them ; which is another Consideration in

this part.

The world is a great Volume, and man the Index of Corpus that Booke ; Even in the body of man, you may turne ""'"""^ to the whole world ; This body is an Illustration of all Nature ; Gods recapitulation of all that he had said before, in his Fiat lux, and Fiat Jirjnamentum, and in all the rest, said or done, in all the six dayes. Propose this body to thy consideration in the highest exaltation thereof ; as it is the Temple of the Holy Ghost : Nay, not in a Metaphor, or comparison of a Temple, or any

F 2

68 Imperfection.

other similitudinary thing, but as it was really and truly the very body of God, in the person of Christ, and yet this body must wither, must decay, must languish, must perish. When Goliah had armed and fortified this body. And lezabel had painted and perfumed this body, And Dives had pampered and larded this body. As God said to Ezekiel, when he brought him to the dry bones, Fili hominis, Sonne of Man, doest thou thinke these bones can live ? They said in their hearts to all the world, Can these bodies die ? And they are dead. lezabels dust is not Ambar, nor Goliahs dust Terra sigillata, Medicinall ; nor does the Serpent, whose meat they are both, finde any better rellish in Dives dust, then in Lazarus.

40. Man.

lllis, qui ^1\/T-^^ ^^' sayes the Prophet Esay, Quasi stilla situla,

uthtl. ^ K/ ^j ^ ^^^p ^p^^ ^j^g bucket. Man is not all that,

Esay. 40. 1 5. -^ -f '

not so much as that, as a drop upon the bucket, but

quasi, something, some little thing towards it ; and what

is a drop upon the bucket, to a river, to a sea, to the waters

above the firmament ? Man to God ? Man is, sayes the

same Prophet in the same place, Quasi momentum staterce ;

we translate it, As small dust upon the balance : Man is

not all that, not that small graine of dust ; but quasi,

some little thing towards it : And what can a graine of

dust work in governing the balance ? What is man that

God should be mindfull of him ? Vanity seemes to be

the lightest thing, that the Holy Ghost could name ;

and when he had named that, he sayes, and sayes, and

sayes, often, very, very often, All is vanity. But when he

Man. 69

comes to waigh man with vanity it selfe, he findes man lighter then vanity : 7ake, sayes he, great men, and Ps. 62. 9. meane men altogether, and altogether they are lighter then vanity. When that great Apostle sayes of himselfe, that he was in nothing hehinde the very chiefest of the 2C0r.12.1r. Apostles, and yet, for all that, sayes he was nothing ; who can think himselfe any thing, for being a Giant in pro- portion, a Magistrate in power, a Rabbi in learning, an Oracle in Counsell ? Let man be something ; how poore, and inconsiderable a ragge of this world, is man ? Man, whom Paracelsus would have undertaken to have L. 1. de made, in a Limbeck, in a Furnace : Man, who, if they neralione. were altogether, all the men, that ever were, and are, and shall be, would not have the power of one Angel in them all, whereas all the Angels, (who, in the Schoole are conceived to be more in number, then, not onely all the Species, but all the individuals of this lower world) have not in them all, the power of one finger of Gods hand : Man, of whom when David had said, (as the lowest diminution that he could put upon him) / am a worme Ps. 22. 6. and no man. He might have gone lower, and said, I am a man and no worm ; for man is so much lesse then a worm, as that wormes of his own production, shall feed upon his dead body in the grave, and an immortal! worm gnaw his conscience in the torments of hell.

41. Afflictions.

ALL our Hfe is a continuall burden, yet we must not . groane ; A continuall squeasing, yet we must not pant ; And as in the tendernesse of our childhood, we

70 Afflictions.

suffer, and yet are whipt if we cry, so we are complained of, if we complaine, and made delinquents if we call the times ill. And that which addes waight to waight, and multiplies the sadnesse of this consideration, is this, That still the best men have had most laid upon them. As soone as I heare God say, that he hath found an u-pright ■" man, that jeares God, and eschews evill, in the next lines I finde a Commission to Satan, to bring in Sabeans and Chaldeans upon his cattell, and servants, and fire and tempest upon his children, and loathsome diseases upon himselfe. As soone as I heare God say. That he hath .found a man according to his own heart, I see his sonnes ravish his daughters, and then murder one another, and then rebell against the Father, and put him into straites for his life. As soone as I heare God testifie of Christ at Mat. 3. 17. his Baptisme, This is my beloved Sonne in whom I am well Matt. 4. 1, ■pleased, I finde that Sonne of his led up by the Spirit, to be tempted of the Devill. And after I heare God ratifie Matt. 17. 5. the same testimony againe, at his Transfiguration, {This is my beloved Sonne, in whom I am well pleased) I finde that beloved Sonne of his, deserted, abandoned, and given over to Scribes, and Pharisees, and Publicans, and Herodians, and Priests, and Souldiers, and people, and Judges, and witnesses, and executioners, and he that was called the beloved Sonne of God, and made partaker of the glory of heaven, in this world, in his Transfigura- tion, is made now the Sewer of all the corruption, of all the sinnes of this world, as no Sonne of God, but a meere man, as no man, but a contemptible w^orme. As though the greatest weaknesse in this world, were man, and the greatest fault in man were to be good, man is more

Afflictions. 71

miserable then other creatures, and good men more miserable then any other men.

But then there is Pondus Glorice, An exceeding zoaight ofAfflidio eternall glory y and that turnes the scale ; for as it makes all worldly prosperity as dung, so it makes all worldly adversity as feathers.

42. Discontent.

EVERY man is under that complicated disease, and that ridling distemper, not to be content with the most, and yet to be proud of the least thing hee hath ; that when he lookes upon men, he dispises them, because he is some kind of Officer, and when he looks upon God, hee murmures at him, because he made him not a King.

43 . The World a House.

LET the whole world be in thy consideration as one i house ; and then consider in that, in the peacefull harmony of creatures, in the peacefull succession, and connexion of causes, and effects, the peace of Nature. Let this Kingdome, where God hath blessed thee with a being, be the Gallery, the best roome of that house, and consider in the two walls of that Gallery, the Church and the State, the peace of a royall, and a religious VVisedome ; Let thine owne family be a Cabinet in this Gallery, and finde in all the boxes thereof, in the severall duties of Wife, and Children, and servants, the peace of vertue, and of the father and mother of all vertues, active discretion, passive obedience ; and then lastly, let thine owne bosome be the secret box, and reserve in this Cabinet, and then the best Jewell in the best Cabinet,

Mare.

72 The World a House.

and that in the best Gallery of the best house that can be had, peace with the Creature, peace in the Church, peace in the State, peace in thy house, peace in thy heart, is a faire Modell, and a lovely designe even of the heavenly Jerusalem which is Visio pads, where there in no object but peace.

44. Mundus Mare. Mundus ' I ^ HE world is a Sea in many respects and assimilations. X It is a Sea, as it is subject to stormes, and tempests ; Every man (and every man is a world) feels that. And then, it is never the shallower for the calmnesse, The Sea is as deepe, there is as much water in the Sea, in a calme, as in a storme ; we may be drowned in a calme and flattering fortune, in prosperity, as irrecoverably, as in a wrought Sea, in adversity ; So the world is a Sea. It is a Sea, as it is bottomlesse to any line, which we can sound it with, and endlesse to any discovery that we can make of it. The purposes of the world, the wayes of the world, exceed our consideration ; But yet we are sure the Sea hath a bottome, and sure that it hath hmits, that it cannot overpasse ; The power of the greatest in the world, the life of the happiest in the world, cannot exceed those bounds, which God hath placed for them ; So the world is a Sea. It is a Sea, as it hath ebbs and floods, and no man knowes the true reason of those floods and those ebbs. All men have changes and vicis- situdes in their bodies, (they fall sick) And in their estates, (they grow poore) And in their minds, (they become sad) at which changes, (sicknesse, poverty, sadnesse) themselves wonder, and the cause is wrapped

Mundus Mare. 73

up in the purpose and judgement of God onely, and hid even from them that have them ; and so the world is a Sea. It is a Sea, as the Sea affords water enough for all the world to drinke, but such water as will not quench the thirst. The world affords conveniences enow to satisfie Nature, but these encrease our thirst with drink- ing, and our desire growes and enlarges it selfe with our abundance, and though we sayle in a full Sea, yet we lacke water ; So the world is a Sea. It is a Sea, if we consider the Inhabitants. In the Sea, the greater fish devoure the lesse ; and so doe the men of this world too. And as fish, when they mud themselves, have no hands to make themselves cleane, but the current of the waters must worke that ; So have the men of this world no means to cleanse themselves from those sinnes which they have contracted in the world, of themselves, till a new flood, waters of repentance, drawne up, and sanctified by the Holy Ghost, worke that blessed effect in them.

All these wayes the world is a Sea, but especially it is a Sea in this respect, that the Sea is no place of habitation, but a passage to our habitations. So the Apostle expresses the world, Here we have no continuing City^ but we seeke Heb.13.14. one to come ; we seeke it not here, but we seeke it whilest we are here, els we shall never finde it. Those are the two great works which we are to doe in this world ; first to know, that this world is not our home, and then to provide us another home, whilest we are in this world. Therefore the Prophet sayes, Arise, and depart, for this is Mic. 2. 10. not your rest. Worldly men, that have no farther pros- pect, promise themselves some rest in this world, (Soule, Luk. 12.19.

74 Mundus Mare.

thou hast much goods laid up for many yeares, take thine ease, eate, drinke, and he merry, sayes the rich man) but' this is not your rest ; indeed no rest ; at least not yours. You must depart, depart by death, before yee come to that rest ; but then you must arise, before you depart ; for except yee have a resurrection to grace here, before you depart, you shall have no resurrection to glory in the life to come, when you are departed. Siahis Now, in this Sea, every ship that sayles must necessarily

tium, have some part of the ship under water ; Every man that

lives in this world, must necessarily have some of his life, some of his thoughts, some of his labours spent upon this world ; but that part of the ship, by which he sayls, is above water ; Those meditations, and those endevours which must bring us to heaven, are removed from this world, and fixed entirely upon God. And in this Sea, are we made fishers of men ; Of men in generall ; not of rich men, to profit by them, nor of poore men, to pierce them the more sharply, because affliction hath opened a way into them ; Not of learned men, to be over-glad of their approbation of our labours. Nor of ignorant men, to affect them with an astonishment, oj? admiration of our gifts : But we are fishers of men, of all men, of that which makes them men, their soules. And for this fishing in this Sea, this Gospel is our net. Rete Euan- Eloquence is not our net ; Traditions of men are not " ' our nets ; onely the Gospel is. The Devill angles with hooks and bayts ; he deceives, and he wounds in the catching ; for every sin hath his sting. The Gospel of Christ Jesus is a net ; It hath leads and corks ; It hath leads, that is, the denouncing of Gods judgements, and

Mundus Mare. 75

a power to sink down, and lay flat any stubborne and rebellious heart, And it hath corks, that is, the power of absolution, and application of the mercies of God, that swimme above all his works, means to erect an humble and contrite spirit, above all the waters of tribulation, and affliction. . . .

With this net S. Peter caught three thousand soules Acts 2. 41. in one day, at one Sermon, and five thousand in another. With this net S. Paul fished all the Mediterranean Sea, and caused the Gospel of Christ Jesus to abound from Jerusalem round about to Illyricum. This is the net, Rom.15.19. with which if yee be willing to bee caught, that is, to lay downe all your hopes and affiances in the gracious promises of his Gospel, then you are fishes reserved for that great Mariage-feast, which is the Kingdome of heaven ; where, whosoever is a dish, is a ghest too ; whosoever is served in at the table, sits at the table ; whosoever is caught by this net, is called to this feast ; and there your soules shall be satisfied as with marrow, and with fatnesse, in an infallible assurance, of an ever- lasting and undeterminable terme, in inexpressible joy and glory. Amen.

45. The Indifference of 'Nature.

AFOUNTAINE breaks out in the wildernesse, but that fountaine cares not, whether any Man come to fetch water, or no ; A fresh, and fit gale blowes upon the Sea, but it cares not whether the Mariners hoise saile or no ; A rose blowes in your garden, but it calls you not to smell to it.

76 Wealth.

R

46. Wealth.

lICHES is the Metaphor, in which, the Holy Ghost

hath delighted to expresse God and Heaven to

Rom. 2. 4. us ; Despise not the riches of his goodnesse, sayes the Apostle ;

' And againe, O the depth of the riches of his zvisdome ;

Ephes.3.8. And so, after, The unsearchable riches of Christ : And for ver. 16. ' ' , . -^ . '

the consummation of all. The riches of his Glory^ Gods

goodnesse towards us in generall, our Religion in the way, his Grace here, his Glory hereafter, are all represented to us in Riches. With poverty God ordinarily accom- panies his comminations ; he threatens feeblenesse, and warre, and captivity, and poverty every where, but he never threatens men with riches.

Ordinary poverty, (that is a difficulty, with all their labors, and industry to sustaine their family, and the necessary duties of their place) is a shrewd, and a slippery tentation. But for that street-beggery, which is become a Calling, (for Parents bring up their children to it, nay they doe almost take prentises to it, some expert beggers teach others what they shall say, how they shall looke, how they shall lie, how they shall cry) for these, whom our lawes call Incorrigible, I must say of them (in a just

Matt. 25. accommodation of our Saviours words. It is not meet to 26,

take the childrens bread, and to cast it to dogs) It is not

meet, that this vermin should devoure any of that,

which belongs to them who are truely poore. Neither

is there any measure, any proportion of riches, that

exposes man naturally to so much sin, as this kinde of

beggery doth. Rich men forget, or neglect the duties

of their Baptisme j but of these, how many are there.

Wealth. 77

that were never baptized ? Rich men sleepe out Sermons, but these never come to Church : Rich men are negHgent in the practice, but these are ignorant in all knowledge.

It would require a longer disquisition, then I can afford to it now, whether Riches, or Poverty (considered in lesser proportions, ordinary riches, ordinary poverty) open us to more, and worse sins ; But consider them in the highest and in the lowest, abundant riches, beggerly poverty, and it will scarce admit doubt, but that the incorrigible vagabond is farther from all wayes of good- nesse, then the corruptest rich man is. And therefore labour wee all earnestly in the wayes of some lawfull calling, that we may have our portion of this world by good meanes.

47. A London Merchant.

THE Lord was with him in all these steps ; with him In vita, in his life ; with him in his death ; He is with him in his funerals, and he shall be with him in his Resurrection ; and therefore, because the Lord was with him, our Brother is not dead. He was with him in the beginning of his life, in this manifestation, That though he were of Parents of a good, of a great Estate, yet his possibility and his expectation from them, did not slacken his own industry ; which is a Canker that eats into, nay that hath eat up many a family in this City, that relying wholly upon what the Father hath done, the Sonne does nothing for himselfe. And truly, it falls out too often, that he that labours not for more, does not keepe his own. God imprinted in him an industrious disposition, though such hopes from such parents might

78 A London Merchant.

have excused some slacknesse, and God prospered his industry so, as that when his Fathers estate came to a distribution by death, he needed it not. God was Psal.Si.ii. with him, as with David in a Dilatation, and then in a Repletion ; God enlarged him, and then he filled him ; He gave him a large and a comprehensive understanding, and with it, A publique heart ; And such as perchance in his way of education, and in our narrow and contracted times, in which every man determines himselfe in him- selfe, and scarce looks farther, it would be hard to finde many Examples of such largenesse. You have, I thinke, a phrase of Driving a Trade ; And you have, I know, a practise of Driving away Trade, by other use of money ; And you have lost a man, that drove a great Trade, the right way in making the best use of our home- commodity. To fetch in Wine, and Spice, and Silke, is but a drawing of Trade ; The right driving of trade, is, to vent our owne outward ; And yet, for the drawing in of that, which might justly seeme most behoofefull, that is, of Arts, and Manufactures, to be imployed upon our owne Commodity within the Kingdome, he did his part, diligently, at least, if not vehemently, if not passion- ately. This City is a great Theater, and he Acted great and various parts in it ; And all well ; And when he went higher, (as he was often heard in Parliaments, at Councell tables, and in more private accesses to the late King of ever blessed memory) as, for that compre- hension of those businesses, which he pretended to under- stand, no man doubts, for no man lacks arguments and evidences of his ability therein, So for his manner of expressing his intentions, and digesting and uttering his

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purposes, I have sometimes heard the greatest Master of Language and Judgement, which these times, or any other did, or doe, or shall give, (that good and great King of ours) say of him. That he never heard any man of his breeding, handle businesses more rationally, more pertinently, more elegantly, more perswasively ; And when his purpose was, to do a grace to a Preacher, of very good abilities, and good note in his owne Chappell, I have heard him say, that his language, and accent, and manner of delivering himselfe, was like this man. This man hath God accompanied all his life ; and by perform- ance thereof seemes to have made that Covenant with him, which he made to Abraham, Multiplicabo te vehe- Gen. 17. 2. menter, I will multiply thee exceedingly. He multiplied his estate so, as was fit to endow many and great Children ; and he multiplied his Children so, both in their number, and in their quality, as they were fit to receive a great Estate. God was with him all the way. In a Pillar of Fire, in the brightnesse of prosperity, and in the Pillar of Clouds too, in many darke, and sad, and heavy crosses : So great a Ship, required a great Ballast, So many blessings, many crosses ; And he had them, and sailed on his course the steadier for them ; The Cloud as well as the Fire, was a Pillar to him ; His crosses, as well as his blessings established his assurance in God ; And so, in all the course of his life, The Lord was here, and therefore our Brother is not dead ; not dead in the evidences and testimonies of life ; for he, whom the world hath just cause to celebrate, for things done, when he was alive, is alive still in their celebration.

The Lord was here, that is, with him at his death too. /« morie.

8o A London Merchant.

He was served with the Processe here in the City, but his cause was heard in the Country ; Here he sickned, There he languished, and dyed there. In his sicknesse there, those that assisted him, are witnesses, of his many expressings, of a rehgious & a constant heart towards God, and of his pious joyning with them, even in the holy declaration of kneeling, then, when they, in favour of his weakenesse, would disswade him from kneeling. I must not defraud him of this testimony fro my selfe, that into this place where we are now met, I have observed him to enter with much reverence, & compose himselfe in this place with much declaration of devotion. And truly it is that reverence, which those persons who are of the same ranke that he was in the City, that reverence that they use in this place, when they come hither, is that that makes us, who have now the administration of this Quire, glad, that our Predecessors, but a very few yeares before our time, (and not before all our times neither) admitted these Honourable and worshipfull Persons of this City, to sit in this Quire, so, as they do upon Sundayes : The Church receives an honour in it ; But the honour is more in their reverence, then in their presence ; though in that too : And they receive an honour, and an ease in it ; and therefore they do piously toward: God, and prudently for themselves, and gratefully towards us, in giving us, by their reverent comportment here, so just occasion of continuing that honour, and that ease to them here, which to lesse reverend, and unrespective persons, we should be lesse willing to doe. To returne to him in his sicknesse ; He had but one dayes labour, and all the rest were Sabbaths,

A London Merchant. 8i

one day In his sicknesse he converted to businesse ; Thus ; He called his family, and friends together ; Thankfully he acknowledged Gods manifold blessings, and his owne sins as penitently : And then, to those who were to have the disposing of his estate, joyntly with his Children, he recommended his servants, and the poore, and the Hospitals, and the Prisons, which, according to his purpose, have beene all taken into consideration ; And after this (which was his Valediction to the world) he seemed alwaies loath to returne to any worldly businesse. His last Commandement to Wife and Children was Christs last commandement to his Spouse the Church, in the Apostles, To love one another. He blest them, and the Estate devolved upon them, unto them : And by Gods grace shall prove as true a Prophet to them in that blessing, as he was to himselfe, when in entring his last bed, two dayes before his Death, he said. Help me off with my earthly habit, U let me go to my last bed. Where, in the second night after, he said. Little know ye what paine Ifeele this night, yet I know, I shall have joy in the morning ; And in that morning he dyed. The forme in which he implored his Saviour, was evermore, towards his end, this, Christ lesus, which dyed on the Crosse, forgive me my sins ; He have mercy upon me : And his last and dying words were the repetition of the name of Jesus ; And when he had not strength to utter that name distinctly and perfectly, they might heare it from within him, as from a man a far off ; even then, when his hollow and remote naming of Jesus, was rather a certifying of them, that he was with his Jesus, then a prayer that he might come to him. And so The Lord was here^ here with him in his 30J5'3 C

82 A London Merchant.

Death ; and because the Lord was here, our Brother is not dead ; not dead in the eyes and eares of God ; for as the blood of Abel speaks yet, so doth the zeale of Gods Saints ; and their last prayers (though we heare them not) God continues still ; and they pray in Heaven, as the Martyrs under the Altar, even till the Resurrection.

]» funere. He is with him now too ; Here in his Funerals. Buriall, and Christian Buriall, and Solemne Buriall are all evidences, and testimonies of Gods presence. God forbid we should conclude, or argue an absence of God, from the want of Solemne Buriall, or Christian Buriall, or any Buriall ; But neither must we deny it, to be an evidence of his favour and presence, where he is pleased to afford these. So God

Gen 15. makes that the scale of all his blessings to Abraham, That he should be buried in a good age ; God established lacob

Gen. 46. with that promise, That his Son Joseph should have care of his Funerals : And loseph does cause his servants,

Gen. 50. The Physitians, to embalme him, when he was dead. Of

Esayii.io. Christ it was Prophecied, That he should have a glorious Buriall ; And therefore Christ interprets well that profuse, and prodigall piety of the Woman that poured

^latt. 26. out the Oyntment upon him, That she did it to Bury him ; And so shall Joseph of Arimathea be ever celebrated, for his care in celebrating Christs Funerals. If we were to send a Son, or a friend, to take possession of any place in Court, or forraine parts, w-e would send him out in the best equipage : Let us not grudge to set downe our friends, in the Anti-chamber of Heaven, the Grave, in as good manner, as without vaine-gloriousnesse, and wastfulnesse we may ; And, in inclining them, to whom that care belongs, to expresse that care as they doe this

A London Merchant. 83

day, The Lord is with him, even in this Funerall ; And because The Lord is here, our brother is not dead ; Not dead in the naemories and estimation of men.

And lastly, that we may have God present in all his In resum- Manifestations, Hee that was, and is, and is to come, was '^ '""''■ with him, in his life and death, and is with him in this holy Solemnity, and shall bee with him againe in the Resurrection. God sayes to lacob, I will goe downe with Gen. 46. 4. thee into Egypt, and I zvill also surely bring thee up againe. God goes downe with a good man into the Grave, and will surely bring him up againe. When ? The Angel promised to returne to Abraham and Sarah, for the assurance of Gen. 1 3. 10. the birth of Isaac, according to the time of life ; that is, in such time, as by nature a woman may have a childe. God will returne to us in the Grave, according to the time of life ; that is, in such time, as he, by his gracious Decree, hath fixed for the Resurrection. And in the meane time, no more then the God-head departed from the dead body of our Saviour, in the grave, doth his power, and his presence depart from our dead bodies in that darknesse ; But that which Moses said to the whole Congregation, I say to you all, both to you that heare me, and to him that does not, All ye that did cleave Deut. 4. 4. unto the Lord your God, are alive, every one of you, this day ; Even hee, whom wee call dead, is alive this day. In the presence of God, we lay him downe ; In the power of God, he shall rise ; In the person of Christ, he is risen already. And so into the same hands that have received his soule, we commend his body ; beseeching his blessed Spirit, that as our charity enclines us to hope confidently of his good estate, our faith may assure us of the same

c 2

84 A London Merchant.

happlnesse, in our owne behalfe ; And that for all our sakes, but especially for his own glory, he will be pleased to hasten the consummation of all, in that kingdome which that Son of God hath purchased for us, with the inestimable price of his incorruptible blood. Amen.

48. Sickness.

PUT all the miseries, that man is subject to, together, sickftesse is more then all. It is the immediate sword of God. Phalaris could invent a Bull ; and others have invented Wheels and Racks ; but no persecutor could ever invent a sicknesse or a way to inflict a sicknesse upon a condemned man : To a galley he can send him, and to the gallows, and command execution that hour ; but to a quartane fever, or to a gout, hee cannot condemn him. In poverty I lack but other things ; In banishment I lack but other men ; But in sicknesse, I lack my self. And, as the greatest misery of war, is, when our own Country is made the seat of the war ; so is it of affliction, when mine own Body is made the subject thereof. How shall I put a just value upon Gods great blessings of Wine, and Oyle, and Milke, and Honey, when my tast is gone, or of Liberty, when the gout fetters my feet ?

49. Public Opinion.

THE shame of men, is one bridle, that is cast upon us. It is a morall obduration, and in the suburbs, next doore to a spirituall obduration, to be Voyce-proofe, Censure-proofe, not to be afraid, nor ashamed, what the world sayes. He that relyes upon his Plaudo domi. Though the world hisse, I give my selfe a Plaudite at

Public Opinion. 85

home, I have him at my Table, and her in my bed, whom I would have, and I care not for rumor ; he that rests in such a Plaudite, prepares for a Tragedy, a Tragedy in the Amphitheater, the double Theater, this world, and the next too.

50. Joy.

JOY is peace for having done that which we ought to have done .... To have something to doe, to doe it, and then to Rejoyce in having done it, to embrace a calling, to performe the Duties of that calling, to joy and rest in the peacefull testimony of having done so ; this is Christianly done, Christ did it ; Angelically done, Angels doe it ; Godly done, God does it.

51. Women.

FOR, howsoever some men out of a petulancy and wantonnesse of wit, and out of the extravagancy of Paradoxes, and such singularities, have called the faculties, and abilities of women in question, even in the roote thereof, in the reasonable and immortall soul, yet that one thing alone hath been enough to create a doubt, (almost an assurance in the negative) whether S. Ambroses Commentaries upon the Epistles of S. Paul, be truly his or no, that in that book there is a doubt made, whether the woman were created according to Gods Image ; Therefore, because that doubt is made in that book, the book it self is suspected not to have had so great, so grave, so constant an author as S. Ambrose was ; No author of gravity, of piety, of conversation in the Scriptures could admit that doubt, whether woman were created in the Image of God, that is, in possession of a reasonable and an immortall soul.

86 Women.

The faculties and abilities of the soul appeare best in affaires of State, and in Ecclesiasticall affaires ; in matter of government, and in matter of religion ; and in neither of these are we without examples of able women. For, for State affaires, and matter of govern- ment, our age hath given us such a Queen, as scarce any former King hath equalled ; And in the Venetian Story, I remember, that certain Matrons of that City were sent by Commission, in quality of Ambassadours, to an Empresse with whom that State had occasion to treate ; And in the Stories of the Eastern parts of the World, it is said to be in ordinary practise to send women for Ambassadours. And then, in matters of Religion, women have evermore had a great hand, though some- times on the left, as well as on the right hand. Sometimes their abundant wealth, sometimes their personall affec- tions to some Church-men, sometimes their irregular and indiscreet zeale hath made them great assistants

Ilieron. of great Heretiques ; as S. Hierome tels us of Helena to Simon Magus, and so was Lucilia to Donatus, so another to Mahomet, and others to others. But so have they been also great instruments for the advancing of true Religion,

Acts 17. 4. as S. Paul testifies in their behalf, at 7hessolonica, Of the chiefe women, not a fezv ; Great, and Many. For, many times women have the proxies of greater persons then themselves, in their bosomes ; many times women have voices, where they should have none ; many times the voices of great men, in the greatest of Civill, or Ecclesiasticall Assemblies, have been in the power and disposition of women. . . .

Women of quality may be up and ready early enough

Women. 87

for Gods service, if they will. If they be not, let thein but seriously aske themselves that question, whether upon no other occasion, no entertainment, no visit, no letter to or from another, they could have made more haste ; And If they finde they could, I must say In that case, as Tertullian said. They have put God and that man Tertul. into the balance, and walghed them together, and found God too hght. That Mighty, that waighty, that pon- derous God, that blasts a State with a breath, that melts a Church with a looke, that molders a world with a touch, that God Is walghed downe with that man ; That man, whose errand, if it be but conversation, is vanity, but, if it be sin, is nothing, walghs downe God. The world will needs thinke one of these Maries, {Magdalen) to have been guilty of such entertainments as these, of Incontlnency, and of that In the lowest (that Is, the highest) kinde. Prostitution ; perchance she was ; But, I would there were that necessity of thinking so, that because she was a Woman, and is called a sinner, therefore that must be her sin, as though they were capable of no other sin ; Alas, it Is not so. There may be women, whom even another sin, the sin of Pride, and over- valuation of themselves may have kept from that sin, and yet may well be called sinners too ; There may be found women, whom only their scorne of others, hath kept honest, and yet are sinners, though not in that sin.

52. Cosmetics.

CERTAINLY the Hmits of adorning and beautifying the body are not so narrow, so strict, as by some sovvre men they are sometimes conceived to be. Differ-

88 Cosmetics.

ences of Ranks, of Ages, of Nations, of Customes, make great differences in the enlarging, or contracting of these limits, in adorning the body ; and that may come neare sin at some time, and in some places, which is not so alwaies, nor every where. Amongst the women there, the Jewish women, it was so generall a thing to helpe themselves with aromaticall Oyles, and Hniments, as that that which is said by the Prophets poore Widow, to the Prophet 2 King 4. Elisha, That she had nothing in the house but a pot of Oyle, is very properly by some collected from the Originall word, that it was not Oyle for meate, but Oyle for unction, aromaticall Oyle, Oyle to make her looke better ; she was but poore, but a Widow, but a Prophets Widow, (and likely to be the poorer for that) yet she left not that. We see that even those women, whom the Kings were to take for their Wives, and not for Mistresses, (which is but a later name for Concubines) had a certaine, and a long time assigned to be prepared by these aromaticall unctions, and liniments for beauty. Neither do those that consider, that when Abraham was afraid to lose his wife Sara in Egypt, and that every man that saw her, would fall in love with her, Sara was then above three- score ; And when the King Abimelech did fall in love with her, and take her from Abraham^ she was fourescore and ten, they doe not assigne this preservation of her complexion, and habitude to any other thing, then the use of those unctions, and liniments, which were ordinary to that Nation. But yet though the extent and limit of this adorning the body, may be larger then some austere persons will allow, yet it is not so large, as that it should be limited onely, by the intention and purpose of them that

Cosmetics. 89

doe it ; So that if they that beautifie themselves, meane no harme in it, therefore there should be no harme in it ; for, except they could as well provide, that others should take no harme, as that they should meane no harme, they may participate of the fault. And since we finde such an impossibility in rectifying and governing our owne senses, (we cannot take our owne eye, nor stop our owne eare, when we would) it is an unnecessary, and insupportable burden, to put upon our score, all the lascivious glances, and the licentious wishes of other persons, occasioned by us, in over-adorning our selves.

53. The Skin.

CORRUPTION in the skin, says lob ; In the outward In pelle. beauty, These be the Records of veHm, these be the parchmins, the endictments, and the evidences that shall condemn many of us, at the last day, our ozvn skins ; we have the book of God, the Law, written in our own hearts ; we have the image of God imprinted in our own souls ; wee have the character, and seal of God stamped in us, in our baptism ; and, all this is bound up in this velim, in this parchmin, in this skin of ours, and we neglect book, and image, and character, and seal, and all for the covering. It is not a clear case, if we consider the originall words properly. That lesabeliReg.g.^o. did paint ; and yet all translators, and expositors have taken a just occasion, out of the ambiguity of those words, to cry down that abomination of painting. It is not a clear case, if we consider the propriety of the words. That Absolon was hanged by the hair of the head ; 2Sam.i?>.<). and yet the Fathers and others have made use of that

90 The Skin.

indifferency, and verisimilitude, to explode that abomina- tion, of cherishing and curling haire, to the enveagling, and ensnaring, and entangling of others ; Indicium

Hieron. patietur ceternum, says Saint Hierome, Thou art guilty of a murder, though no body die ; Quia vinum attulisti, si fuisset qui bibisset ; Thou hast poyson'd a cup, if any would drink, thou hast prepar'd a tentation, if any would

Tertul. swallow it. Tertullian thought he had done enough, when he had writ his book De Habitu muliebri, against the excesse of women in clothes, but he was fain to adde another with more vehemence, De cultu faeminarum, that went beyond their clothes to their skin. And he concludes, Illud anibitionis crimen, there's vain-glory in their excesse of clothes, but, Hoc prostitutionis, there's prostitution in drawing the eye to the skin. Pliny says, that when their thin silke stuffes were first invented at Rome, Excogitatum ad fceminas denudandas ; It was but an invention that women might go naked in clothes, for their skins might bee seen through those clothes, those thinne stuffes : Our women are not so carefull, but they expose their nakednesse professedly, and paint it, to cast bird-lime for the passengers eye. Beloved, good dyet makes the best Complexion, and a good Conscience is a continuall feast ; A cheerfull heart makes the best blood, and peace with God is the true cheerful- nesse of heart. Thy Saviour neglected his skin so much, as that at last, hee scarce had any ; all was torn with the whips, and scourges ; and thy skin shall come to that absolute corruption, as that, though a hundred years after thou art buryed, one may find thy bones, and say, this was a tall man, this was a strong man, yet we shall

'The Skin. 91

soon be past saying, upon any relique of thy skinne, This was a fair man ; Corruption seises the skinne, all out- ward beauty quickly, and so it does the body, the whole frame and constitution, which is another consideration ; After my skinne, viy Body.

If the whole body were an eye, or an ear, where zvere the In corpore. body, says Saint Paul; but, when of the whole body ^ or.12.1,. there is neither eye nor ear, nor any member left, where is the body ? And what should an eye do there, where there is nothing to be seen but loathsomnesse ; or a nose there, where there is nothing to be smelt, but putre- faction ; or an ear, where in the grave they doe not praise God ? Doth not that body that boasted but yesterday of that priviledge above all creatures, that it onely could goe upright, he to day as flat upon the earth as the body of a horse, or of a dogge ? And doth it not to morrow lose his other priviledge, of looking up to heaven ? Is it not farther remov'd from the eye of heaven, the Sunne, then any dogge, or horse, by being cover'd with the earth, which they are not ? Painters have presented to us with some horrour, the sceleton, the frame of the bones of a mans body ; but the state of a body, in the dissolution of the grave, no pencil can present to us.

54. Mud Walls.

BEHOLD God hath walled us with mud walls, and wet mud walls, that waste away faster, then God meant at first, they should. And by sinnes, this flesh, that is but the loame and plaster of thy Tabernacle, thy body, that, all, that, that in the intire substance is

92 Mud Walls.

corrupted. Those Gummes, and spices, which should embalme thy flesh, when thou art dead, are spent upon that diseased body whilest thou art ahve : Thou seemest, in the eye of the world, to walk in silks, and thou doest but walke in searcloth ; Thou hast a desire to please some eyes, when thou hast much to doe, not to displease every Nose ; and thou wilt solicite an adulterous entrance into their beds, who, if they should but see thee goe into thine own bed, would need no other mortification, nor answer to thy solicitation. Thou pursuest the works of the flesh, and hast none, for thy flesh is but dust held together by plaisters : Dissolution and putrefaction is gone over thee alive ; Thou hast over liv'd thine own death, and art become thine own ghost, and thine own hell.

55. Ignorance.

THE Schooles have made so many Divisions, and sub- divisions, and re-divisions, and post-divisions of Ignorance, that there goes as much learning to under- stand ignorance, as knowledg. One, much elder then al they, & elder (as some will have it) then any but some of the first Secretaries of the Holy Ghost in the Bible, that is Trismegistus, hath said as much as all, Nequitia anima Ignorantia, Ignorance is not onely the drousinesse, the sillinesse, but the wickednesse of the soule : Not onely dis-estimation in this world, and damnification here, but damnation in the next world, proceeds from ignorance. And yet, here in this world, knowledge is but as the earth, and ignorance as the Sea ; there is more sea then earth, more ignorance then knowledge ; and as if the sea do gaine in one place, it loses in another, so is it with

Ignorance. 93

knowledge too ; if new things be found out, as many, and as good, that were knowne before, are forgotten and lost. What Anatomist knowes the body of man thorowly, or what Casuist the soule ? What Politician knowes the distemper of the State thorowly ; or what Master, the disorders of his owne family ? Princes glory in Jrcanisy that they have secrets which no man shall know, and, God knowes, they have hearts which they know not themselves ; Thoughts and purposes indigested fall upon them and surprise them. It is so in naturall, in morall, in civill things ; we are ignorant of more things then we know ; And it is so in divine and supernaturall things too ; for, for them, the Scripture is our onely light, and of the Scripture, S. Augustine professes, Plura se nescire quam scire, That there are more places of Scripture, that he does not, then that he does understand.

Hell is darknesse ; & the way to it, is the cloud of Ignorance ; hell it self is but condensed Ignorance, multiplied Ignorance.

56. The Imperfection of Knowledge.

HOW imperfect is all our knowledge ? What one thing doe we know perfectly ? Whether wee consider Arts, or Sciences, the servant knows but according to the proportion of his Masters knowledge in that Art, and the Scholar knows but according to the proportion of his Masters knowledge in that Science ; Young men mend not their sight by using old mens Spectacles ; and yet we looke upon Nature, but with Aristotles Spectacles, and upon the body of man, but with Galens, and upon the frame of the world, but with Ptolomies Spectacles.

94 The Imperfection of Knowledge.

Almost all knowledge is rather like a child that is embalmed' to make Mummy, then that is nursed to make a Man ; rather conserved in the stature of the first age, then growne to be greater ; And if there be any addition to knowledge, it is rather a new knowledge, then a greater knowledge ; rather a singularity in a desire of proposing something that was not knowne at all before, then an emproving, an advancing, a multiplying of former inceptions ; and by that meanes, no knowledge comes to be perfect. One Philosopher thinks he is dived to the bottome, when he sayes, he knows nothing but this. That he knows nothing ; and yet another thinks, that he hath expressed more knowledge then he, in saying. That he knows not so much as that, That he knows nothing. S. Paul found that to be all knowledge. To know Christ ; And Mahomet thinks himselfe wise therefore, because he knows not, acknowledges not Christ, as S. Paul does. Though a man knew not, that every sin casts another shovell of Brimstone upon him in Hell, yet if he knew that every riotous feast cuts off a year, and every wanton night seaven years of his seventy in this world, it were some degree towards perfection in knowledge. He that purchases a Mannor, will thinke to have an exact Survey of the Land : But who thinks of taking so exact a survey of his Conscience, how that money was got, that purchased that Mannor ? VVe call that a mans meanes, which he hath ; But that is truly his meanes, what way he came by it. And yet how few are there, (when a state comes to any great propor- tion) that know that ; that know what they have, what they are worth ? We have seen great Wills, dilated into glorious uses, and into pious uses, and then too narrow

The Imperfection of Knowledge. 95

an estate to reach to it ; And we have seen Wills, where the Testator thinks he hath bequeathed all, and he hath not knowne halfe his own worth. When thou knowest a wife, a sonne, a servant, a friend no better, but that that wife betrayes thy bed, and that sonne thine estate, and that servant thy credit, and that friend thy secret, what canst thou say thou knowest ?

57. Change of Mind.

rHET changed their minds, and said, That he was a God, Acts xxviii. 6. . . . Neither have these men of Malta (consider them in what quality you will) so much honour afforded them, in the Originall, as our translation hath given them. We say, they changed their minds ; the Original says only this, they changed, and no more. Alas, they, we, men of this world, wormes of this dunghil, whether Basilisks or blind wormes, whether Scarabs or Silkworms, whether high or low in the world, have no minds to change. The Platonique Philosophers did not only acknowledge Anima in homine, a soule in man, but Mentem in anima, a minde in the soul of man. They meant by the minde, the superiour faculties of the soule, and we never come to exercise them. Men and women call one another inconstant, and accuse one another of having changed their minds, when, God knowes, they have but changed the object of their eye, and seene a better white or red. An old man loves not the same sports that he did when he was young, nor a sicke man the same meats that hee did when hee was well : But these men have not changed their mindes ; The old man hath changed his fancy, and the sick man his taste ; neither his minde.

96 Change of Mind.

The Mind implies consideration, deliberation, con- clusion upon premisses ; and wee never come to that ; wee never put the soule home ; wee never bend the soule up to her height ; we never put her to a tryall what she is able to doe towards discerning a tentation, what towards resisting a tentation, what towards repenting a tentation ; we never put her to tryall what she is able to doe by her naturall faculties, whether by them shee cannot be as good as a PlatOy or a Socrates, who had no more but those naturall faculties ; what by vertue of Gods generall grace, which is that providence, in which he inwraps all his creatures, whether by that she cannot know her God, as well as the Oxe knowes his Crib, and the Stork her nest ; what by vertue of those particular graces, which God offers her in his private inspirations at home, and in his publique Ordinances here, whether by those she cannot be as good an houre hence, as she is now ; and as good a day after, as that day that she receives the Sacrament ; we never put the soule home, we never bend the soule up to her height ; and the extent of the soule is this minde. When David speaks of the people, Psa!. 2. 2. he sayes, They imagine a vaine thing ; It goes no farther, then to the fancy, to the imagination ; it never comes so neare the minde, as Consideration, Reflection, Examina- tion, they onely imagine, fancy a vain thing, which is but a waking dreame, for the fancy is the seat, the scene, the theatre of dreames.

Reason and Faith. 97

58. Reason and Faith.

THEY had a precious composition for lamps, amongst the ancients, reserved especially for Tomhes, which kept light for many hundreds of yeares ; we have had in our age experience, in some casuall openings of ancient vaults, of finding such lights, as were kindled, (as appeared by their inscriptions) fifteen or sixteen hundred years before ; but, as soon as that light comes to our light, it vanishes. So this eternall, and this supernaturall light, Christ and faith, enlightens, warmes, purges, and does all the profitable offices of fire, and light, if we keep it in the right spheare, in the proper place, (that is, if wee consist in points necessary to salvation, and revealed in the Scripture) but when wee bring this light to the common light of reason, to our inferences, and conse- quencies, it may be in danger to vanish it selfe, and perchance extinguish our reason too ; we may search so far, and reason so long oi faith and grace, as that we may lose not onely them, but even our reason too, and sooner become mad then good. Not that we are bound to believe any thing against reason, that is, to believe, we know not why. It is but a slacke opinion, it is not Beliefe, that is not grounded upon reason. He that should come to a Heathen man, a meere naturall man, uncatechized, uninstructed in the rudiments of the Christian Religion, and should at first, without any preparation, present him first with this necessitie ; Thou shalt burn in fire and brimstone eternally, except thou believe a Trinitie of Persons, in an unitie of one God, Except thou beUeve the Incarnation of the second 3025'3 H

98 Reason and Faith.

Person of the Trinitie, the Sonne of God, Except thou believe that a Virgine had a Sonne, and the same Sonne that God had, and that God was Man too, and being the immortall God, yet died, he should be so farre from vvojking any spirituall cure upon this poore soule, as that he should rather bring Christian Mysteries into scorne, then him to a beliefe. For, that man, if you proceed so. Believe all, or you burne in Hell, would finde an easie, an obvious way to escape all ; that is, first not to believe Hell it selfe, and then nothing could binde him to believe the rest.

The reason therefore of Man, must first be satisfied ; but the way of such satisfaction must be this, to make him see. That this World, a frame of so much harmony, so much concinnitie and conveniencie, and such a corre- spondence, and subordination in the parts thereof, must necessarily have had a workeman, for nothing can make it selfe : That no such workeman would deliver over a frame, and worke, of so much Majestie, to be governed by Fortune, casually, but would still retain the Adminis- tration thereof in his owne hands : That if he doe so, if he made the World, and sustaine it still by his watchfull Providence, there belongeth a worship and service to him, for doing so : That therefore he hath certainly revealed to man, what kinde of worship, and service, shall be acceptable to him : That this manifestation of his Will, must be permanent, it must be written, there must be a Scripture, which is his Word and his Will : And that therefore, from that Scripture, from that Word of God, all Articles of our Beliefe are to bee drawne.

If then his Reason confessing all this, aske farther

Reason and Faith. 99

proofe, how he shall know that these Scriptures accepted by the Christian Church, are the true Scriptures, let him bring any other Booke which pretendeth to be the Word of God, into comparison with these ; It is true> we have not a Demonstration ; not such an Evidence as that one and two, are three, to prove these to be Scrip- tures of God ; God hath not proceeded in that manner, to drive our Reason into a pound, and to force it by a peremptory necessitie to accept these for Scriptures, for then, here had been no exercise of our Will, and our assent, if we could not have resisted. But yet these Scriptures have so orderly, so sweet, and so powerfull a working upon the reason, and the understanding, as if any third man, who were utterly discharged of all pre- conceptions and anticipations in matter of Religion, one who were altogether neutrally disinteressed, uncon- cerned in either party, nothing towards a Turke^ and as little toward a Christian, should heare a Christian pleade for his Bible, and a Turke for his Alcoran, and should weigh the evidence of both ; the Majesty of the Style, the punctuall accomplishment of the Prophecies, the harmony and concurrence of the foure Evangelists, the consent and unanimity of the Christian Church ever since, and many other such reasons, he would be drawne to such an Historicall, such a Grammaticall, such a Logicall beliefe of our Bible, as to preferre it before any other, that could be pretended to be the Word of God. He would believe it, and he would know why he did so. For let no man thinke that God hath given him so much ease here, as to save him by believing he knoweth not what, or why. Knowledge cannot save us, but we cannot

H 2

100 Reason and Faith.

be saved without Knowledge ; Faith is not on this side Knowledge, but beyond it ; we must necessarily come to Knowledge first, though we must not stay at it, when we are come thither. For, a regenerate Chris- tian, being now a new Creature, hath also a new facultie of Reason : and so believeth the Mysteries of Religion, out of another Reason, then as a meere naturall Man, he believed naturall and morall things. He believeth them for their own sake, by Faith, though he take Knowledge of them before, by that common Reason, and by those humane Arguments, which worke upon other men, in naturall or morall things. Divers men may walke by the Sea side, and the same beames of the Sunne giving light to them all, one gathereth by the benefit of that light pebles, or speckled shells, for curious vanitie, and another gathers precious Pearle, or medicinall Ambar, by the same light. So the common light of reason illumins us all ; but one imployes this light upon the searching of impertinent vanities, another by a better use of the same light, finds out the Mysteries of Religion ; and when he hath found them, loves them, not for the lights sake, but for the naturall and true worth of the thing it self. Some men by the benefit of this light of Reason, have found out things profitable and usefull to the whole world ; As in particular, Printing, by which the learning of the whole world is communicable to one another, and our minds and our inventions, our wits and compositions may trade and have commerce together, and we may participate of one anothers understandings, as well as of our Clothes, and Wines, and Oyles, and other Merchandize : So by the benefit of this light of reason,

Reason and Faith. loi

they have found out Artillery, by which warres come to quicker ends then heretofore, and the great expence of bloud is avoyded : for the numbers of men slain now, since the invention of Artillery, are much lesse then before, when the sword was the executioner. Others, by the benefit of this hght have searched and found the secret corners of gaine, and profit, wheresoever they lie. They have found wherein the weakenesse of another man consisteth, and made their profit of that, by circum- venting him in a bargain : They have found his riotous, and wastefull inclination, and they have fed and fomented that disorder, and kept open that leake, to their advantage, and the others ruine. They have found where was the easiest, and most accessible way, to sollicite the Chastitie of a woman, whether Discoursey Musicke, or Presents, and according to that discovery, they have pursued hers, and their own eternaU destruction. By the benefit of this light, men see through the darkest, and most impervious places, that are, that is. Courts of Princes, and the greatest Officers in Courts ; and can submit themselves to second, and to advance the humours of men in great place, and so make their profit of the weakenesses which they have discovered in these great men. All the wayes, both of Wisdome, and of Craft lie open to this light, this light of naturall reason : But when they have gone all these wayes by the benefit of this light, they have got no further, then to have walked by a tempestuous Sea, and to have gathered pebles, and speckled cockle shells. Their light seems to be great out of the same reason, that a Torch in a misty night, seemeth greater then in a clear, because it hath

102 Reason and Faith.

kindled and inflamed much thicke and grosse Ayre round about it. So the light and wisedome of worldly men, seemeth great, because he hath kindled an admiration, or an applause in Aiery flatterers, not because it is so in deed.

But, if thou canst take this light of reason that is in thee, this poore snuffe, that is almost out in thee, thy faint and dimme knowledge of God, that riseth out of this light of nature, if thou canst in those embers, those cold ashes, finde out one small coale, and wilt take the paines to kneell downe, and blow that coale with thy devout Prayers, and light thee a little candle, (a desire to reade that Booke, which they call the Scriptures, and the Gospell, and the Word of God ;) If with that httle candle thou canst creep humbly into low and poore places, if thou canst finde thy Saviour in a Manger, and in his swathing clouts, in his humiliation, and blesse God for that beginning, if thou canst finde him flying into Egypt, and finde in thy selfe a disposition to accompany him in a persecution, in a banishment, if not a bodily banishment, a locall banishment, yet a reall, a spirituall banishment, a banishment from those sinnes, and that sinnefull conversation, which thou hast loved more then thy Parents, or Countrey, or thine owne body, which perchance thou hast consumed, and destroyed with that sinne ; if thou canst finde him contenting and containing himselfe at home in his fathers house, and not breaking out, no not about the worke of our salvation, till the due time was come, when it was to be done. And if according to that example, thou canst contain thy selfe in that station and vocation in which God hath planted

Reason and Faith. 103

thee, and not, through a hasty and precipitate zeale, breake out to an imaginary, and intempestive, and unseasonable Reformation, either in Civill or Ecdesiasticall businesse, which belong not to thee ; if with this little poore light, these first degrees of Knowledge and Faith, thou canst follow him into the Garden, and gather up some of the droppes of his precious Bloud and sweat, which he shed for thy soule, if thou canst follow him to Jerusalem, and pick up some of those teares, which he shed upon that City, and upon thy soule ; if thou canst follow him to the place of his scourging, and to his crucifying, and provide thee some of that balme, which must cure thy soule ; if after all this, thou canst turne this little light inward, and canst thereby discerne where thy diseases, and thy wounds, and thy corruptions are, and canst apply those teares, and blood and balme to them, (all this is. That if thou attend the light of naturall reason, and cherish that, and exalt that, so that that bring thee to a love of the Scriptures, and that love to a beleefe of the truth thereof, and that historic all faith to z faith of application, of appropriation, that as all those things were certainly done, so they were certainly done /or thee) thou shalt never envy the lustre and glory of the great lights of worldly men, which are great by the infirmity of others, or by their own opinion, great because others think them great, or because they think themselves so, but thou shalt finde, that howsoever they magnifie their lights, their wit, their learning, their industry, their fortune, their favour, and sacrifice to their owne nets, yet thou shalt see, Eahak i. that thou by thy small hght hast gathered Pearle and Amber, and they by their great hghts nothing but shels

104 Reason and Faith.

and pebles ; they have determined the light of nature, upon the booke of nature, this world, and thou hast carried the light of nature higher, thy naturall reason, and even humane arguments, have brought thee to reade the Scriptures, and to that love, God hath set to the scale of Jaith. Their Hght shall set at noone ; even in their heighth, some heavy crosse shall cast a damp upon their soule, and cut off all their succours, and devest them of all comforts, and thy light shall grow up, from a Jaire hope, to a modest assurance and infallibility, that that light shall never go out, nor the works of darknesse, nor the Prince of darknesse ever prevaile upon thee, but as thy hght of reason is exalted hy faith here, so thy light of faith shall be exalted into the hght of glory, and fruition in the Kingdome of heaven. Before the sunne was made, there was a light which did that office of distinguishing night and day ; but when the sunne was created, that did all the offices of the former light,, and more. Reason is that first, and primogeniall light, and goes no farther in a naturall man ; but in a man regenerate by faith, that light does all that reason did, and more ; and all his Morall, and Civill, and Domestique, and indifferent actions, (though they be never done without Reason) yet their principall scope, and marke is the glory of God, and though they seeme but Morall, or Civill, or domestique, yet they have a deeper tincture, a heavenly nature, a relation to God, in them.

True Knowledge. 105

59. True Knowledge.

BLESSED are they that inanimate all their knowledge, consummate all in Christ Jesus. The University is a Paradise, Rivers of knowledge are there, ,Arts and Sciences flow from thence. Counsell Tables are Horti conclusi, (as it is said in the Canticles) Gardens that are walled, in, and they are Pontes signati. Wells that are sealed up ; bottomlesse depths of unsearchable Counsels there. But these Aquee quietudinum^ which the Prophet speaks of, The waters of rest, they flow a magistro bono, from this good master, and flow into him again ; All knowledge that begins not, and ends not with his glory, is but a giddy, but a vertiginous circle, but an elaborate and exquisite ignorance.

60. Terrible Things,

IN the frame and constitution of al Religions, these Materials, these Elements have ever entred ; Some words of a remote signification, not vulgarly understood, some actions of a kinde of halfe-horror and amazement, some places of reservation and retirednesse, and appro- priation to some sacred persons, and inaccessible to all others. Not to speake of the services, and sacrifices of the Gentiles, and those selfe-mangHngs and lacerations of the Priests of Isis, and of the Priests of Baal, (faintly counterfaited in the scourgings and flagellations in the Roman Church) In that very discipHne which was delivered from God, by Moses, the service was full of mysterie, and horror, and reservation. By terrible things, (Sacrifices of blood in manifold effusions) God answered

io6 Terrible Things.

them, then. So, the matter of Doctrine was delivered mysteriously, and with much reservation, and in-intelli- giblenesse, as Tertullian speaks. The Joy and Glory of Heaven was not easily understood by their temporal! abundances of Milke, and Honey, and Oyle, and Wine ; and yet, in these (and scarce any other way) was Heaven presented, and notified to that people by Moses. Christ, a Messias, a Saviour of the World, by shedding his blood for it, was not easily discerned in their Types and Sacri- fices ; And yet so, and scarce any other way was Christ Hos.t3,to. revealed unto them. God sayes, / have multiplied visions, and used similitudes, by the minis tery of the Prophets. They were Visions, they were Simihtudes, not plaine and evident things, obvious to every understanding, that God led his people by. . . .

So that God in the Old, and Christ in the New Testa- ment, hath conditioned his Doctrine, and his ReHgion (that is, his outward worship) so, as that evermore there should be preserved a Majesty, and a reverentiall feare, and an awfull discrimination of Divine things from Civill, and evermore something reserved to be inquired after, and laid up in the mouth of the Priest, that the People might acknowledge an obligation from him, in the exposition, and application thereof. Nay, this way of answering us by terrible things, (that is, by things that imprint a holy horror, and a Religious reverence) is much more in the Christian Church, then it can have beene in any other ReHgion ; Because, if wee consider the Jews, (which is the onely ReHgion, that can enter into any comparison with the Christian, in this kinde) yet, we looke more directly and more immediately upon

Terrible Things. 107

God in Christ, then they could, who saw him but by way of Prophecie, a future thing that should be done after ; wc looke upon God, in History, in matter of fact, upon things done, and set before our eyes ; and so that Majesty, and that holy amazement, is more to us then ever it was to any other Religion, because we have a nearer approximation, and vicinity to God in Christ, then any others had, in any representions of their Gods ; and it is a more dazeling thing to looke upon the Sun, in a direct, then in an oblique or side line. And therefore, the love of God, which is so often proposed unto us, is as often seasoned with the feare of God ; nay, all our Religious affections are reduced to that one. To a reveren- tiall feare ; If he be a Master, he cals for feare, and, Mai, i. 6. If he be a Father, he calls for honor ; And honour implies a reverentiall feare. And that is the Art that David professes to teach, Artem timendi. Come ye children, and Psal.34.12. hearken unto me, and I will teach you the feare of the Lord. That you thinke not Divinity an Occupation, nor Church-Service a recreation ; but still remember. That the God of our Salvation (God working in the Christian Church) zvill answer you ; but yet, by terrible things ; that is, by not being over-fellowly with God, nor over- homely with places, and acts of Religion ; which, it may be an advancement to your Devotion and edification, to consider, in some particulars in the Christian Church.

And first, consider we it, in our manners, and conversa- In morihus. tion. Christ sayes, Henceforth I call you not servants, '^ "^5-i4- but friends. But, howsoever Christ called him friend, that was come to the feast without the wedding garment, he cast hijn out, because he made no difference of that Mat. 22.12.

io8 Terrible Things.

place from another. First then, remember by what terrible things God answers thee in the Christian Church, when he comes to that round and peremptory issue, Marke 16. Q^/ ^^j^ crediderit^ damnabitur, He that beleeves not every Article of the Christian faith, and with so stedfast a belief, as that he would dye for it, Damnabitur, (no modification, no mollification, no going lesse) He shal be damned. Consider too the nature of Excomunication, That it teares a man from the body of Christ Jesus ; That that man withers that is torne off, and Christ himselfe is wounded in it. Consider the insupportable penances that were laid upon sinners, by those penitentiall Canons, that went through the Church in those Primitive times ; when, for many sins which we passe through now, without so much as taking knowledge that they are sins, men were not admitted to the Communion all their Hves, no, nor easily upon their death-beds. Consider how dangerously an abuse of that great doctrine of Predestination may bring thee tO' thinke, that God is bound to thee, and thou not bound to him, That thou maiest renounce him, and he must embrace thee, and so make thee too familiar with God, and too homely with Religion, upon presumption of a Decree. Con- sider that when thou preparest any uncleaae action, in any sinfull nakednesse, God is not onely present with thee in that roome then, but then tels thee. That at the day of Judgement thau must stand in his presence, and in the presence of all the World, not onely naked, but in that foule, and sinfull, and uncleane action of nakednesse, which thou com- mittedst then ; Consider all this and confesse, that for

Terrible Things. 109

matters of manners, and conversation, T^he God of thy Salvation answers thee by terrible things. And so it is also, if we consider Prayer in the Church.

Gods House is the house of Prayer ; It is his Court of Inorationf. Requests ; There he receives petitions, there he gives Order upon them. And you come to God in his House, as though you came to keepe him company, to sit downe, and talke with him halfe an houre ; or you come as Ambassadors, covered in his presence, as though ye came from as great a Prince as he. You meet below, and there make y-our bargaines, for biting, for devouring Usury, and then you come up hither to prayers, and so make God your Broker. You rob, and spoile, and eat his people as bread, by Extortion, and bribery, and deceitfull waights and measures, and deluding oathes in buying and selling, and then come hither, and so make God your Receiver, and his house a den of Thieves. His house is Sanctum Sanctorum, The holiest of holies, and you make it onely Sanctuarium ; It should be a place sanctified by your devotions, and you make it onely a Sanctuary to priviledge Malefactors, A place that may redeeme you from the ill opinion of men, who must in charity be bound to thinke well of you, because they see you here. Offer this to one of your Princes, (as God argues in the Prophet) and see, if he will suffer his house to be prophaned by such uncivill abuses ; And, Terribilis Psal. 47. 3. Rex, The Lord most high is terrible, and a great King over all the earth ; and, Terribilis super omnes Deos, More 96. 4- terrible then all other Gods. Let thy Master be thy god, or thy Mistresse thy god, thy Belly be thy god, or thy Back be thy god, thy fields be thy god, or thy chests be

no Terrible Things.

thy god, Terrihilis super otnnes Deos, The Lord is terrible

95- 3- above all gods, A great God, and a great King above all

gods. You come, and call upon him by his name here, But

Deut.28.58. Magnum iS' terribile. Glorious and fearefull is the name of the Lord thy God. And, as if the Son of God were but the Son of some Lord, that had beene your Schoole- fellow in your youth, and so you continued a boldnesse to him ever after, so, because you have beene brought up with Christ from your cradle, and catechized in his name, his name becomes lesse reverend unto you, And

Fsal.111.4. Sanctum U terribile. Holy, and reverend. Holy and terrible should his name be.

61. The Fate of the Heathen. Pagani. AND as those blessed Fathers of tender bowels, Jr\. enlarged themselves in this distribution, and apportioning the mercy of God, that it consisted best with the nature of his mercy, that as his Saints had suffered temporall calamities in this world, in this world they should be recompenced with temporall abundances., so did they inlarge this mercy farther, and carry it even to the Gentiles, to the Pagans that had no knowledge of Christ in any established Church. You shall not finde a Trismegistus, a Numa Pompilius, a Plato, a Socrates^ for whose salvation you shall not finde some Father, or some Ancient and Reverend Author, an Advocate. In which liberahty of Gods mercy, those tender Fathers proceed partly upon that rule, That in Trismegistus, and in the rest, they finde evident impressions, and testimonies, that they knew the Son of God, and knew the Trinity ; and then, say they, why should not these

The Fate of the Heathen. 1 1 1

good men, beleeving a Trinity, be saved ? and partly they goe upon that rule, which goes through so many of the Fathers, Facienti quod in se est. That to that man who does as much as he can, by the light of nature, God never denies grace ; and then, say they, why should not these men that doe so be saved ? And, upon this ground, S. Dionyse, the Areopagite sayes. That from the beginning of the world, God hath called some men of all Nations, and of all sorts, by the ministry of Angels, though not by the ministry of the Church. To me, to whom God hath revealed his Son, in a Gospel, by a Church, there can be no way of salvation, but by applying that Son of God, by that Gospel, in that Church. Nor is there any other foundation for any, nor other name by which any can be saved, but the name of Jesus. But how this foundation is presented, and how this name of Jesus is notified to them, amongst whom there is no Gospel preached, no Church estabhshed, I am not curious in inquiring. I know God can be as mercifull as those tender Fathers present him to be ; and I would be as charitable as they are. And therefore humbly imbracing that manifestation of his Son, which he hath afforded me, I leave God, to his unsearchable waies of working upon others, without farther inquisition.

62. The Church a Company.

THE Key of David, openeth and no man shutteth ; The Spirit of Comfort shineth upon us, and would not be blown out. Monasterie, and Ermitage, and Anchorate, and such words of singularitie are not Synonyma with those plurall words Concio, Cactus, Ecdesia, Synagoga

112 The Church a Company.

y CongTegatio, in which words God delivereth himselfe to us. A Church is a Company, ReUgion is ReHgation, a binding of men together in one manner of Worship ; and Worship is an exteriour service ; and that exteriour service is the Venite exultemus, to come and re Joyce in the presence of God.

63. God Proceeds Legally.

GOD proceeds legally ; Publication before Judgement. God shall condemn no man, for not beleeving in Christ, to whom Christ was never manifested, 'TzV true, that God is said to have come to Eliah in that still small voice, and not in the strong wind^ not in the i/?eg.i9.i2. Earth-quake, not in the fire. So God says, Sibilabo Mat. 10.21. populum meum, I will but hisse, I will but wliisper for my people, and gather them so. So Christ tells us things in darknesse ; And so Christ speakes to us in our Ear ; And these low voices, and holy whisperings, and halfe-silences, denote to us, the inspirations of his Spirit, as his Spirit heares zvitnesse with our spirit ; as the Holy Ghost insinu- ates himselfe into our soules, and works upon us so, by his private motions. But this is not Gods ordinary way, to be whispering of secrets. The first thing that God made, was light ; The last thing, that he hath reserved to doe ; is the manifestation of the light of his Essence in our Glorification. And for Publication of himselfe here, by the way, he hath constituted a Church, in a VisibiHty, in an eminency, as a City upon a hill ; And in this Church, his Ordinance is Ordinance indeed ; his Ordinance of preaching batters the soule, and by that breach, the Spirit enters ; His Ministers are an Earth-

God Proceeds Legally. 113

quake, and shake an earthly soule ; They are the sonnes of thunder, and scatter a cloudy conscience ; They are as the fall of waters, and carry with them whole Congrega- tions ; 3000 at a Sermon, 5000 at a Sermon, a whole City, such a City as Niniveh at a Sermon ; and they are as the roaring of a Lion, where the Lion of the tribe of Juda, cries down the Lion that seekes whom he may devour ; that is, Orthodoxall and fundamentall truths, are established against clamorous, and vociferant innova- tions. Therefore what Christ tels us in the darke, he bids us speake in the light ; and what he sales in our eare, he bids us preach on the house top. Nothing is Gospell, not Evangelium, good message, if it be not put into a Messengers mouth, and delivered by him ; nothing is conducible to his end, nor available to our salvation, except it be avowable doctrine, doctrine that may be spoke alowd, though it awake them, that sleep in their sinne, and make them the more froward, for being so awaked.

God hath made all things in a Roundnesse, from the round superficies of this earth, which we tread here, to the round convexity of those heavens, w'^'^ (as long as they shal have any beeing) shall be our footstool, when we come to heaven, God hath wrapped up all things in Circles, and then a Circle hath no Angles ; there are no Corners in a Circle. Corner Divinity, clandestine Divinity are incompatible termes ; If it be Divinity, it is avowable. The heathens served their Gods in Temples, sub die, without roofs or coverings, in a free opennesse ; and, where they could, in Temples made of Specular stone, that was transparent as glasse, or crystall, so as they which

2035'3 I

114 God Proceeds Legally.

walked without in the streets, might see all that was done within. And even nature it self taught the naturall man, to make that one argument of a man truly religious, Afcrto vivere voto. That he durst pray aloud, and let the world heare, what he asked at Gods hand ; which duty is best performed, when we joyne with the Congre- gation in publique prayer. Saint Augustine, hath made that note upon the Donatists, That they were Clancularii, clandestine Divines, Divines in Corners. And in Photius, we have such a note almost upon all Heretiques ; as the Nestorian was called Coluber, a snake, because though he kept in the garden, or in the meadow, in the Church, yet he lurked and lay hid, to doe mischief. And the Valentinian was called a Grashopper, because he leaped and skipped from place to place ; and that creature, the Grashopper, you may hear as you passe, but you shall hardly find him at his singing ; you may hear a Con- venticle Schismatick, heare him in his Pamphlets, heare him in his Disciples, but hardly surprize him at his exercise. Publication is a fair argument of truth. That tasts of Luthcrs holy animosity, and zealous vehemency, when he says, Audemus gloriari Christum a nobis primo vulgatuvi ; other men had made some attempts at a Reformation, and had felt the pulse of some persons, and some Courts, and some Churches, how they would relish a Reformation ; But Luther rejoyces with a holy exultation. That he first published it, that he first put the world to it. So the Apostles proceeded ; when they came in their peregrination, to a new State, to a new Court, to Rome it selfe, they did not enquire, how stands the Emperour affected to Christ, and to the preaching

God Proceeds Legally. 115

of his Gospel ; Is there not a Sister, or a Wife that might be wrought upon to further the preaching of Christ ? Are there not some persons, great in power and place, that might be content to hold a party together, by admitting the preaching of Christ ? This was not their way ; They only considered who sent them ; Christ Jesus : And what they brought ; salvation to every soul that embraced Christ Jesus. That they preached ; and still begunne with a Va si non ; Never tell us of dis- pleasure, or disgrace, or detriment, or death, for preaching of Christ. For, woe be unto us, if we preach him not : And still they ended with a Qui non crediderit, Damnabitiir, Never deceive your own souls, He, to whom Christ hath been preached, and beleeves not, shall be damned. All Divinity that is bespoken, and not ready made, fitted to certaine turnes, and not to generall ends ; And all Divines that have their soules and consciences, so disposed, as their Libraries may bee, (At that end stand Papists, and at that end Protestants, and he comes in in the middle, as neare one as the other) all these have a brackish taste ; as a River hath that comes near the Sea, so have they, in comming so neare the Sea of Rome.

64. The Church.

AS Waspes make combs, but empty ones, so do . Heretiques Churches, but frivolous ones, ineffectual! ones. And, as we told you before. That errors and disorders are as well in wayes, as in ends, so may we deprive our selves of the benefit of this judgement, The Church, as well in circumstances, as in substances, as well in opposing disciphne, as doctrine. The holy Ghost

I 2

ii6 The Church.

reproves thee, convinces thee, oj judgement, that is, offers thee the knowledge that such a Church there is ; A Jordan to wash thine originall leprosie in Baptisme ; A City upon a mountaine, to enhghten thee in the works of darknesse ; a continuall apphcation of all that Christ Jesus said, and did, and suffered, to thee. Let no soule say, she can have all this at Gods hands immediatly, and never trouble the Church ; That she can passe her pardon between God and her, without all these formalities, by a secret repentance. It is true, beloved, a true repentance is never frustrate : But yet, if thou wilt think thy selfe a little Church, a Church to thy selfe, because thou hast heard it said. That thou art a little world, a world in thy selfe, that figurative, that meta- phoricall representation shall not save thee. Though thou beest a world to thy self, yet if thou have no more corn, nor oyle, nor milk, then growes in thy self, .or flowes from thy self, thou wilt starve ; Though thou be a Church in thy fancy, if thou have no more seales of grace, no more absolution of sin, then thou canst give

Grcgor. thy self, thou wilt perish. Per solum Ecclesiam sacrificium libenter accipit Deus : Thou maist be a Sacrifice in thy chamber, but God receives a Sacrifice more cheerefully at Church. Sola, quce pro errantibus Jiducialiter intercedit. Only the Church hath the nature of a surety ; Howsoever God may take thine own word at home, yet he accepts the Church in thy behalfe, as better security. Joyne

Aujgiisto therefore ever with the Communion of Saints • Et cum membriim sis ejus corporis, quod loquitur omnibus Unguis, crede te omnibus Unguis loqui. Whilst thou art a member of that Congregation, that speaks to God with a thousand

The Church. 117

tongues, beleeve that thou speakest to God with all those tongues. And though thou know thine own prayers unworthy to come up to God, because thou liftest up to him an eye, which is but now withdrawne from a licentious glancing, and hands which are guilty yet of unrepented uncleannesses, a tongue that hath but lately blasphemed God, a heart which even now breaks the walls of this house of God, and steps home, or runs abroad upon the memory, or upon the new plotting of pleasurable or profitable purposes, though this make thee thinke thine own prayers uneffectuall, yet beleeve that some honester man then thy selfe stands by thee, and that when he prayes with thee, he prayes for thee ; and that, if there be one righteous man in the Congregation, thou art made the more acceptable to God by his prayers ; and make that benefit of this reproofe, this conviction of the holy Ghost, That he convinces thee De judicio, assures thee of an orderly Church established for thy reliefe, and that the applica- tion of thy self to this judgement, The Church, shall enable thee to stand upright in that other judgement, the last judgement, which is also enwrapped in the signification of this word of our Text, ludgement, and is the conclusion for this day.

As God begun all with judgement, (for he made all Indicium things in measure, number, and waight) as he proceeded g^'^'^j with judgement, in erecting a judiciall seat for our direction, and correction, the Church, so he shall end all with judgement. The iinall, and generall judgement, at the Resurrection ; which he that beleeves not, beleeves nothing ; not God ; for, He that commeth to God (that Heb. u. 6.

ii8 The Church.

makes any step towards him) must beleeve, Deum retnunera^ torem, God, and God in that notion, as he is a Rewarder ; Therefore there is judgement. But was this work left for the Holy Ghost ? Did not the naturall man that knew no Holy Ghost, know this ? Truly, all their fabulous Divinity, all their Mythology, their Minos, and their Rhadamanthus, tasted of such a notion, as a judge- ment. And yet the first planters of the Christian Religion found it hardest to fixe this roote of all other articles That Christ should come againe to judgement. Miserable and froward men ! They would beleeve it in their fables, and would not beleeve it in the Scriptures ; They would beleeve it in the nine Muses, and would not beleeve it in the twelve Apostles ; They would beleeve it by Apollo, and they would not beleeve it by the Holy Ghost ; They would be saved Poetically, and fantastically, and would not reasonably, and spiritually ; By Copies, and not by Originals ; by counterfeit things at first deduced by their Authors, out of our Scriptures, and yet not by the word of God himself.

65. Reverence in Church.

THE rituall and ceremoniall, the outward worship of God, the places, the times, the manner of meet- ings, [which] are in the disposition of Christian Princes, and by their favours of those Churches, which are in their government : and not to rejoyce in the peacefull exercise of those spirituall helps, not to be glad of them, is a trans- gression. Now the Prophet expresses this rejoycing thus, Ve7iite exultemus, let us come and rejoyce. We must doe both. And therefore they who out of a thraldome to

Reverence in Church. 119

another Church abstaine from these places of these

exercises, that doe not come, or if they doc come, doe not

rejoyce, but though they be here brought by necessity

of law, or of observation, yet had rather they were in

another Chappell, or at another kinde of service then

in this : and they also who abstain out of imaginary

defects in this church, & think they cannot perform

Davids De profundis, they cannot call upon God out of

the depth, except it be in a Conventicle in a cellar, nor

acknowledge Solomons Excelsis Excelsior, that God is EuUs. 5. S.

higher then the highest, except it be in a Conventicle

in a garret, & when they are here wink at the ornaments,

& stop their ears at the musique of the Church, in which

manner she hath always expressed her rejoycing in those

helps of devotion ; or if there bee a third sort who

abstain, because they may not be here at so much ease,

and so m.uch liberty, as at their own houses, all these are

under this transgression. Are they in the Kings house

at so much liberty as in their own ? and is not this the

King of Kings house ? Or have they scene the King

in his owne house, use that hberty to cover himself e in

his ordinary manner of covering, at any part of Divine

Service ? Every Preacher will look, and justly, to have

the Congregation uncovered at the reading of his Text :

and is not the reading of the Lesson, at time of Prayer,

the same Word of the same God, to be received with the

same reverence ? The service of God is one entire

thing ; and though we celebrate some parts with more,

or with lesse reverence, some kneeling, some standing,

yet if we afford it no reverence, we make that no part

of Gods service. And therefore I must humbly intreat

120 Reverence in Church.

them, who make this Quire the place of their Devotion, to testifie their devotion by more outward reverence there ; wee know our parts in this place, and we doe them ; why any stranger should think himself more priviledged in this part of Gods House, then we, I know not. I presume no man will mis-interpret this that I say here now ; nor, if this may not prevaile, mis-interpret the service of our Officers, if their continuing in that unreverent manner give our Officers occasion to warn them of that personally in the place, whensoever they see them stray into that uncomely negligence. They should not blame me now, they must not blame them then, when they call upon them for this reverence in this Quire ; neither truly can there be any greater injustice, then when they who will not do their duties, blame others for doing theirs.

66. Going to Church.

BETWEENE that fearefull occasion of comming to Church, which S. Augustine confesses and laments, That they came to make wanton bargaines with their eyes, and met there, because they could meet no where else ; and that more fearfull occasion of comming, when they came onely to elude the Law, and proceeding in their treacherous and traiterous reUgion in their heart, and yet communicating with us, draw God himselfe into their conspiracies, and to mocke us, make a mocke of God, and his religion too : betweene these two, this licencious comming, and this treacherous comming, there are many commings to Church, commings for company, for observa- tion, for musique : And all these indispositions are ill

Going to Church. 121

at prayers ; there they are unwholesome, but at the Sacrament, deadly : He that brings any collaterall respect to prayers, looses the benefit of the prayers of the Congregation ; and he that brings that to a Sermon, looses the blessing of Gods ordinance in that Sermon ; hee heares but the Logique, or the Retorique, or the Ethique, or the poetry of the Sermon, but the Sermon of the Sermon he heares not ; but he that brings this disposition to the Sacrament, ends not in the losse of a benefit, but he acquires, and procures his owne damna- tion.

67. Prayer.

I BRING not a Star-chamber with me up into the Pulpit, to punish a forgery, if you counterfeit a zeale in coming hither now ; nor an Exchequer, to punish usurious contracts, though made in the Church ; nor a high Commissioji, to punish incontinencies, if they be promoted by wanton interchange of looks, in this place. Onely by my prayers, which he hath promised to accom- pany and prosper in his service, I can diffuse his over- shadowing Spirit over all the corners of this Congregation, and pray that Publican, that stands below afar off, and dares not hft up his eyes to heaven, to receive a chearfull confidence, that his sinnes are forgiven him ; and pray that Pharisee, that stands above, and onely thanks God, that he is not like other men, to believe himself to be, if not a rebellious, yet an unprofitable servant.

122 Prayer.

68. Prayer.

PRAYER is our whole service to God. Earnest Prayer hath the nature of Importunity ; Wee presse, wee importune God in Prayer ; Yet that puts not God to a morosity, to a frowardnesse ; God flings not away from that ; Gods suffers that importunity, and more. Prayer hath the nature of Impudency ; Wee threaten God in Prayer ; as Gregor: Nazi: adventures to expresse it ; He saies, his Sister, in the vehemence of her Prayer, would threaten God, Et honesta quadam impudentia, egit impudentem ; She came, saies he, to a religious impudency with God, and to threaten him, that she would never depart from his Altar, till she had her Petition granted ; And God suffers this Impudency, and more. Prayer hath the nature of Violence ; In the publique Prayers of the Congregation, we besiege God, saies Tertul: and we take God Prisoner, and bring God to our Conditions ; and God is glad to be straitned by us in that siege. This Prophet here executes before, what the Apostle counsailes after. Pray incessantly ; Even in his singing he prayes ; And as S. Basil saies, Etiam soinniajustorum preces sunt, A Good mans dreames are Prayers, he prayes, and not sleepily, in his sleepe, so Davids Songs are Prayers.

69. The Time of Prayer.

THE comfort of being presented to God as innocent as AdaiUy then when God breathed a soule into him, yea as innocent as Christ Jesus himselfe, when he breathed out his soule to God ; oh how blessed is that soule that

The Time of Prayer. 123

enjoyes it, and how bold that tongue that goes about to expresse it ! This is the blessednesse which the godly attaine to by prayer, but not by every sudden Lord, Lord, or every occasionall holy interjection, but by serious prayer, invested, as with the former, so with that other circumstance that remains, In tempore opportuno, In a time when thou mayest he found.

This time is not those Horcv staiwa, Horce canonica. In tempore. those fixed houres in the Romane Church, where men are bound to certaine prayers at certaine houres. Not that it is inconvenient for men to binde themselves to certaine fixed times of prayer in their private Exercises ; and though not by such a vow, as that it shall be an impiety, yet by so solemne a purpose, as that it shall be a levity to breake it. I have known the greatest Christian Prince, (in Style and Title) even at the Audience of an Ambassador, at the sound of a Bell, kneele downe in our presence and pray ; and God forbid, he should be blamed for doing so ; But to place a merit in observing those times, as they doe, Is not a right understanding of this time of finding. Nor is it those transitory and inter- locutory prayers, which out of custome and fashion we make, and still proceed in our sin ; when we pretend to speake to God, but like Comedians upon a stage, turne over our shoulder, and whisper to the Devill. . . .

The Manifestation of the Gospel, that is, the helpes Prosper!- which God offers us, more then Jews, or Gentils, in the ^^^' Ministery of the Gospel, and the Ordinances of his Church, is the time of finding God ; And woe unto us, if we seeke him not whilest he affords us these helpes ; And then the time of affliction, when God threatens

124 '^^^ Time of Prayer.

to hide his face, but hath not yet hidden it, but awakens us by a calamity, is a time of finding God. But the best and the clearest time is in the Sun-shine, then when he appeares to us in the warme and chearefull splendor of temporall blessings upon us ; Then when thou hast a good estate, and good children to let it descend upon ; Then when thou hast good health, and a good profession to exercise thy strength, and thy labors in ; Then when the dishes upon thy table are doubled, and thy cup overflows, and the hungry and thirsty soules of the poore doe not onely feed upon the crums under thy table, and lick up the overflowings of thy cup, but divide dishes with thee, and enter into the midst of thy Bolls ; Then when thou hast temporall blessings, (that is Gods silver) and his grace to use those blessings well, (that is Gods gold) then is the best time of finding the Lord, for then he looks upon thee in the Sun-shine, and then thy thankfull acknowledgement of former blessings is the most effectuall prayer thou canst make, for the continu- ance, and enlargement of them.

70. Jt Table and Bed.

THEREFORE, beloved, since every master of a family, who is a Bishop in his house, should call his family together, to humble, and powre out their soules to God, let him consider, that when he comes to kneele at the side of his table, to pray, he comes to build a Church there ; and therefore should sanctifie that place, with a due, and penitent consideration how voluptuously he hath formerly abused Gods blessings at that place, how superstitiously, and idolatrously he hath flatter'd

At Table and Bed. 125

and humour'd some great and useful ghests invited by him to that place, how expensively, he hath served his owne ostentation and vain-glory, by excessive feasts at that place, whilest Lazarus hath lien panting, and gasping at the gate ; and let him consider what a danger- ous Mockery this is to Christ Jesus, if he pretend by kneeling at that table, fashionally to build Christ a Church by that solemnity at the table side, and then crucifie Christ again, by these sinnes, when he is sat at the table. When thou kneelest down at thy bed side, to shut up the day at night, or to beginne it in the morning, thy servants, thy children, thy Httle flock about thee, there thou buildest a Church too : And therefore sanctifiie that place ; wash it with thy tears, and with a repentant consideration ; That in that bed thy children were conceived in sinne, that in that bed thou hast turned mariage which God afforded thee for remedy, and physique to voluptuosnesse, and licenciousnesse ; That thou hast made that bed which God gave thee for rest, and for reparation of thy weary body, to be as thy dwelling, and deUght, and the bed of idlenesse, and stupidity.

71. Unconscious Prayer.

THAT soule, that is accustomed to direct her selfe to God, upon every occasion, that, as a flowre at Sun-rising, conceives a sense of God, in every beame of his, and spreads and dilates it selfe towards him, in a thankfulnesse, in every small blessing that he sheds upon her ; that soule, that as a flowre at the Suns declining, contracts and gathers in, and shuts up her

126 Unconscious Prayer.

selfe, as though she had received a blow, when soever she heares her Saviour wounded by a oath, or blasphemy, or execration ; that soule, who, whatsoever string be strucken in her, base or treble, her high or her low estate, is ever tun'd toward God, that soule prayes sometimes when it does not know that it prayes.

72. Sermons^

GOD directs the tongue of his Ministers, as he doth his showres of rain : They fall upon the face of a large compasse of earth, when as all that earth did not need that rain. The whole Congregation is, oftentimes, in common entendment, conformable, and well setled in all matters of Doctrine, and all matters of Discipline. And yet God directs us sometimes to extend our discourse (perchance with a zeale and a vehemence, which may seem unnecessary, and impertinent, because all in the Church are presumed to be of one minde) in the proofe of our doctrine against Papists, or of our discipline against Nonconformitans. For, Gods eye sees, in what seat there sits, or in what corner there stands some one man that wavers in matters of Doctrine, and enclines to hearken after a Seducer, a Jesuit, or a Semi-Jesuit, a practising Papist, or a Sesqui-Jesuit, a Jesuited Lady ; And Gods eye sees in what seat there sits, or in what corner there stands some weak soul that is scandalized, with some Ceremony, or part of our Discipline, and in danger of falling from the unity of the Church : And for the refreshing of that one span of ground, God lets fall a whole showre of rain ; for the rectifying of that one soul, God poures out the Meditations of the Preacher,

Sermons. 127

into such a subject, as perchance doth httle concern the rest of the Congregation. S. Mattheiv relates Christs Sermon at large, and S. Luke but briefly, and yet S. Luke remembers some things that S. Matthew had left out. If thou remember not all that was presented to thy faith, all the Citations of places of Scriptures, nor all that was presented to thy reason, all the deducements, and inferences of the Schooles, nor all that was presented to thy spirituall dehght, all the sentences of ornament produced out of the Fathers, yet if thou remember that which concerned thy sin, and thy soul, if thou meditate upon that, apply that, thou hast brought away all the Sermon, all that was intended by the Holy Ghost to be preached to thee. And if thou have done so, as at a donative at a Coronation, or other solemnity, when mony is throwne among the people, though thou light but upon one shilHng of that money, thou canst not think that all the rest is lost, but that some others are the richer for it, though thou beest not ; so if thou remember, or apply, or understand but one part of the Sermon, doe not think all the rest to have been idly, or unnecessarily, or impertinently spoken, for thou broughtest a feaver, and hast had thy Juhps, another brought a fainting, and a diffident spirit, and must have his Cordials. . , .

This excuses no mans ignorance, that is not able to preach seasonably, and to break, and distribute the bread of hfe according to the emergent necessities of that Congregation, at that time ; Nor it excuses no mans lazinesse, that will not employ his whole time upon his calling ; Nor any mans vain-glory, and ostentation, who

128 Sermons.

having made a Pye of Plums, without meat, offers it to sale in every Market, and having made an Oration of Flowres, and Figures, and Phrases without strength, sings it over in every Pulpit : It excuses no mans ignor- ance, nor lazinesse, nor vain-glory, but yet it reproaches their itching and curious eares, to whom any repetition of the same things is irksome and fastidious. You may have heard an answer of an Epigrammatist applyable to this purpose ; When he read his Epigrams in an Auditory, one of the hearers stopped him, and said. Did not I heare an Epigram to this purpose from you, last yeare ? Yes, sayes he, it is like you did ; but is not that vice still in you this yeare, which last yeares Epigram reprehended ? If your curiosity bring you to say to any Preacher, Did not I heare this Point thus handled in your Sermon, last yeare ? Yes, must he say, and so you must next yeare againe, till it appeare in your amendment, that you did heare it. The Devill maintaines a Warre good cheap, if he may fight with the same sword, and we may not defend with the same buckler ; If he can tempt a Son with his Fathers covetousnesse, and a Daughter with her Mothers wantonnesse, if he need not vary the sin, nor the tentation, must wee vary our Doctrine ? This is indeed to put new Wine into old vessels, new Doctrine into eares, and hearts not disburdened of old Cant. 7.13. sins. We say, as the Spouse sayes, Vetera i^ nova, we prepare old and new, all that may any way serve your holy taste, and conduce to your spirituall nourishment ; And he is not a Preacher sufficiently learned, that must of necessity preach the same things againe, but he is not a Preacher sufficiently discreet neither, that forbeares

Sermons J 29

any thing therefore, because himselfe, or another in that place, hath handled that before. Christ himselfe varied his Sermon very httle, if this in S. Matthew, and that in S. Luke, were divers Sermons.

73. New Doctrines.

NEW fashions in men, make us doubt new manners ; and new terms in Divinity were ever suspicious in the Church of God, that new Doctrines were hid under them. Resistibility, and Irresistibility of grace, which is every Artificers wearing now, was a stuff that our Fathers wore not, a language that pure antiquity spake not. They knew Gods ordinary proceeding. They knew his Common Law, and they knew his Chancery. They knew his Chief Justice Moses, that denounced his Judge- ments upon transgressors of the Law ; and they knew his Chancellor Christ Jesus, into whose hands he had put all Judgements, to mitigate the rigor and condemna- tion of the Law. They knew Gods law, and his Chancery : but for Gods prerogative, what he could do of his absolute power, they knew Gods pleasure, Nolumus disputari : It should scarce be disputed of in Schools, much less serv'd in every popular pulpit to curious and itching ears ; least of all made table-talke, and household-discourse. Christ promises to come to the door, and to knock at the door, and to stand at the door, and to enter if any man open ; but he does not say, he will break open the Revel. 3. door : it was not his pleasure to express such an earnest- ness, such an Irresistibihty in his grace, so. Let us cheerfully rely upon that ; his purpose shall not be frustrated ; his ends shall not be prevented ; his ways J025-3 K

130 New Doctrines.

shall not be precluded : But the depth of the goodness of God, how much good God can do for man ; yea the depth of the illness of man, how much ill man can do against God, are such seas, as, if it be not impossible, at least it is impertinent, to go about to sound them.

74. Papist and Puritan.

BELOVED, there are some things in which all Religions agree ; The worship of God, The holi- nesse of life ; And therefore, if when I study this hoHnesse of life, and fast, and pray, and submit my selfe to discreet, and medicinall mortifications, for the subduing of my body, any man will say, this is Papisticall, Papists doe this, it is a blessed Protestation, and no man is the lesse a Protestant, nor the worse a Protestant for making it, Men and brethren, I am a Papist, that is, I will fast and pray as much as any Papist, and enable my selfe for the service of my God, as seriously, as sedulously, as laboriously as any Papist. So, if when I startle and am affected at a blasphemous oath, as at a wound upon my Saviour, if when I avoyd the conversation of those men, that prophane the Lords day, any other will say to me. This is Puritanicall, Puritans do this, It is a blessed Protesta- tion, and no man is the lesse a Protestant, nor the worse a Protestant for making it, Men and Brethren, I am a Puritan, that is, I wil endeavour to be pure, as my Father in heaven is pure, as far as any Puritan.

Theological Dissensions. 131

75. Theological Dissensions.

PSALME II. 3. If the Foundations be destroyed^ what can the righteous doe F . . . For, as wee, at last, shall commend our Spirits, into the hands of God, God hath commended our Spirits, not onely our civill peace, but our Rehgion too, into the hand of the Magistrate. And therefore, when the Apostle sayes, Studie to bee quiet, it is not quiet in the blindnesse of the Eye, nor quiet in the Deafenesse of the Eare, nor quiet in the Lamenesse of the Hand ; the iust discharge of the dueties of our severall places, is no disquieting to any man. But when private men will spend all their thoughts upon their Superiours actions, this must necessarily disquiet them ; for they are off of their owne Center, and they are extra Sphceram Activitatis, out of their owne Distance, and Compasse, and they cannot possibly discerne the Ende, to which their Superiours goe. And to such a iealous man, when his jealousie is not a tendernesse towards his owne actions, which is a holy and a wholesome jealousie, but a suspition of his Superiours actions, to this Man, every Wheele is a Drumme, and every Drumme a Thunder, and every Thunder-clapp a dissolution of the whole frame of the World : If there fall a broken tyle from the house, hee thinkes Foundations are destroyed ; if a crazie woman, or a disobedient childe, or a needie servant fall from our Religion, from our Church, hee thinkes the whole Church must necessarily fall, when all this while there are no Foundations destroyed ; and till foundations bee destroyed, the righteous should be quiet,

K 2

132 Theological Dissensions.

Hence have wee just occasion, first to condole amongst oiir selves, who, for matters of Foundations professe one and the same Religion, and then to complain of our Adversaries, who are of another. First, that amongst our selves, for matters not Doctrinall, or if Doctrinall, yet not Fundamentall, onely because we are sub-divided in divers Names, there should be such Exasperations, such Exacerbations, such Vociferations, such Ejulations, such Defamations of one another, as if all Foundations were destroyed. Who would not tremble, to heare those Infernall words, spoken by men, to men, of one and the same Rehgion fundamentally, as Indiabolificata, Per- diabolijicata, and Super diabolijicata, that the Devill, and all the Devills in Hell, and worse then the Devill is in their Doctrine, and in their Divinitie, when, God in heaven knowes, if their owne uncharitablenesse did not exclude him, there were roome enough for the Holy Ghost, on both, and on either side, in those Fundamentall things, which are unanimely professed by both ; And yet every Mart, wee see more Bookes written by these men against one another, then by them both, for Christ. But yet though this Torrent of uncharitablenesse amongst them, bee too violent, yet it is within some bankes ; though it bee a Sea, and too tempestuous, it is limitted within some bounds : The poynts are certaine, knowen, limitted, and doe not grow upon us every yeare, and day. But the uncharitablenesse of the Church of Rome towards us all, is not a Torrent, nor it is not a Sea, but a generall Flood, an universall Deluge, that swallowes all the world, but that Church, and Church-yard, that lowne, and Suburbes, themselves, and those that depend

Theological Dissensions. 133

upon them ; and will not allowe possibilitie of Salvation to the whole Arke, the whole Christian Church, but to one Cabin in that Arke, the Church of Rome ; and then denie us this Salvation, not for any Positive Errour, that ever they charged us to affirme ; not because we affirme any thing, that they denie, but because wee denie some things, which they in their afternoone are come to affirme.

76. Despair.

WHO ever comes into a Church to denounce an excommunication against himselfe ? And shall any sad soule come hither, to gather arguments, from our preaching, to excommunicate it selfe, or to pronounce an impossibility upon her owne salvation ? God did a new Nitnb. i5. thing, says Moses, a strange thing, a thing never done ^°' before, when the earth opened her mouth and Dathan, and Abiram went downe quicke into the pit. Wilt thou doe a stranger thing then that ? To teare open the jawes of Earth, and Hell, and cast thy self actually and really into it, out of a mis-imagination, that God hath cast thee into it before ? Wilt thou force God to second thy irreligious melancholy, and to condemne thee at last, because thou hadst precondemned thy selfe, and renounced his mercy ?

77. The Sociahleness of God.

OUR first step then in this first part, is, the sociable- i Part nesse, the communicablenesse of God ; He loves holy meetings, he loves the communion of Saints, the houshold of the faithfull : Delicia ejus, says Solomon, his delight is to he with the Sons of men, and that the Sons of men

134 The Sociableness of God.

should be with him : Rehgion is not a melancholy ; the spirit of God is not a dampe ; the Church is not a grave : it is a fold, it is an Jrke, it is a net, it is a city, it is a king- dome, not onely a house, but a house that hath many mansions in it : still it is a plurall thing, consisting of many : and very good grammarians amongst the Hebrews, have thought, and said, that that name, by which God notifies himself to the world, in the very beginning of Genesis, which is Elohim, as it is a plurall word there, so it hath no singular : they say we cannot name God, but plurally : so sociable, so communicable, so extensive, so derivative of himself, is God, and so manifold are the beames, and the emanations that flow out from him.

78. God a Circle.

ONE of the most convenient Hieroglyphicks of God, is a Circle ; and a Circle is endlesse ; whom God loves, hee loves to the end : and not onely to their own end, to their death, but to his end, and his end is, that he might love them still. His hailestones, and his thunder- bolts, and his showres of bloud (emblemes and instru- ments of his Judgements) fall downe in a direct line, and affect and strike some one person, or place : His Sun, and Moone, and Starres, (Emblemes and Instruments of his Blessings) move circularly, and communicate them- selves to all. His Church is his chariot ; in that, he moves more gloriously, then in the Sun ; as much more, as his begotten Son exceeds his created Sun, and his Son of glory, and of his right hand, the Sun of the firmament ; and this Church, his chariot, moves in that communicable motion, circularly ; It began in the East, it came to us.

God a Circle. 135

and is passing now, shining out now, in the farthest West.

79. God's Mirror.

THERE is not so poore a creature but may be thy glasse to see God in. The greatest flat glasse that can be made, cannot represent any thing greater then it is :j If every gnat that flies were an Arch-angell, all that could but tell me, that there is a God ; and the poorest worme that creeps, tells me that. If I should aske the Basilisk, how camest thou by those killing eyes, he would tell me. Thy God made me so ; And if I should aske the Slow-worme, how camest thou to be without eyes, he would tell me. Thy God made me so. The Cedar is no better a glasse to see God in, then the Hyssope upon the wall ; all things that are, are equally removed from being nothing ; and whatsoever hath any beeing, is by that very beeing, a glasse in which we see God, who is the roote, and the fountaine of all beeing. The whole frame of nature is the Theatre, the whole Volume of creatures is the glasse, and the light of nature, reason, is our light.

80. Gods Names.

FIRST then, lest any man in his dejection of spirit, Vmbra or of fortune, should stray into a jealousie or suspi- tion of Gods power to deliver him. As God hath spangled the firmament with starres, so hath he his Scriptures with names, and Metaphors, and denotations of power. Sometimes he shines out in the name of a Sword, and of a Target, and of a Wall, and of a Tower, and of a Rocke, and of a Hill ; And sometimes in that glorious and

136 God*s Names.

manifold constellation of all together, Domimis exercituum. The Lord of Hosts. God, as God, is never represented to us, with Defensive Armes ; He needs them not. When the Poets present their great Heroes, and their Worthies, they alwayes insist upon their Armes, they spend much of their invention upon the description of their Armes ; both because the greatest valour and strength needs Armes, (Goliah himselfe vi^as armed) and because to expose ones selfe to danger unarmed, is not valour, but rashnesse. But God is invulnerable in himselfe, and is never repre- sented armed ; you finde no shirts of mayle, no Helmets, no Cuirasses in Gods Armory.

81. God's Mercies, Psal.ioi.i. T WILL sing of thy mercy and judgement, sayes David ; ■^ when we fixe our selves upon the meditation and modulation of the mercy of God, even his judgements cannot put us out of tune, but we shall sing, and be chearefull, even in them. As God made grasse for beasts, before he made beasts, and beasts for man, before he made man : As in that first generation, the Creation, so in the regeneration, our re-creating, he begins with that which was necessary for that which followes, Mercy before Judgement. Nay, to say that mercy was first, is but to post-date mercy ; to preferre mercy but so, is to diminish mercy ; The names of first or last derogate from it, for first and last are but ragges of time, and his mercy hath no relation to time, no limitation in time, it is not first, nor last, but eternall, everlasting ; Let the Devill make me so far desperate as to conceive a time when there was no mercy, and he hath made me so far an

God's Mercies, 137

Atheist, as to conceive a time when there was no God ; if I despoile him of his mercy, any one minute, and say, now God hath no mercy, for that minute I discontinue his very Godhead, and his beeing. Later Grammarians have wrung the name of mercy out of misery ; Misericordia frcesumit tniseriam, say these, there could be no subsequent mercy, if there were no precedent misery ; But the true roote of the word mercy, through all the Prophets, is Racham, and Racham is diligere, to love ; as long as there hath been love (and God is love) there hath been mercy : And mercy considered externally, and in the practise and in the effect, began not at the helping of man, when man was fallen and become miserable, but at the making of man, when man was nothing. So then, here we consider not mercy as it is radically in God, and an essentiall attribute of his, but productively in us, as it is an action, a working upon us, and that more especially, as God takes all occasions to exercise that action, and to shed that mercy upon us : for particular mercies are feathers of his wings, and that prayer. Lord let thy mercy lighten upon us, as our trust is in thee, is our birdlime ; particular mercies are that cloud of Quailes which hovered over the host of Israel, and that prayer. Lord let thy mercy lighten upon us, is our net to catch, our Gomer to fill of those Quailes. The aire is not so full of Moats, of Atomes, as the Church is of Mercies ; and as we can suck in no part of aire, but we take in those Moats, those Atomes ; so here in the Congregation we cannot suck in a word from the preacher, we cannot speak, we cannot sigh a prayer to God, but that that whole breath and aire is made of mercy. But we call not upon you from this Text, to

138 God's Mercies.

consider Gods ordinary mercy, that which he exhibltes to all in the ministery of his Church ; nor his miraculous mercy, his extraordinary deliverances of States and Churches ; but we call upon particular Consciences, by occasion of this Text, to call to minde Gods occasionall mercies to them ; such mercies as a regenerate man will call mercies, though a naturall man would call them accidents, or occurrences, or contingencies ; A man wakes at midnight full of unclean thoughts, and he heares a passing Bell ; this is an occasionall mercy, if he call that his own knell, and consider how unfit he was to be called out of the world then, how unready to receive that voice, Foole, this night they shall fetch away thy soule. The adulterer, whose eye waites for the twy-light, goes forth, and casts his eyes upon forbidden houses, and would enter, and sees a Lord have mercy upon us upon the doore ; this is an occasionall mercy, if this bring him to know that they who lie sick of the plague within, passe through a furnace, but by Gods grace, to heaven ; and hee without, carries his own furnace to hell, his lustfuU lolnes to everlasting perdition. What an occasionall mercy had Balaam, when his Asse Catechized him J What an occasionall mercy had one Theefe, when the other catechized him so. Art not thou afraid being under the same condemnation F What an occasionall mercy had all they that saw that, when the Devil himself fought Act. 19. 14. for the name of Jesus, and wounded the sons of Sceva for exorcising in the name of Jesus, with that indignation, with that Increpation, lesus we know, and Paul we know, hut who are ye ? If I should declare what God hath done (done occasionally) for my soule, where he instructed me

God's Mercies. I39

for feare of falling, where he raised me when I was fallen, perchance you would rather fixe your thoughts upon my illnesse, and wonder at that, then at Gods goodnesse, and glorifie him in that ; rather wonder at my sins, then at his mercies, rather consider how ill a man I was, then how good a God he is. If I should inquire upon what occasion God elected me, and writ my name in the book of Life, I should sooner be afraid that it were not so, then finde a reason why it should be so. God made Sun and Moon to distinguish seasons, and day, and night, and we cannot have the fruits of the earth but in their seasons : But God hath made no decree to distin- guish the seasons of his mercies ; In paradise, the fruits were ripe, the first minute, and in heaven it is alwaies Autumne, his mercies are ever in their maturity. We ask panem quotidianum, our daily bread, and God never sayes you should have come yesterday, he never sayes you must againe to morrow, but to day if you will heare his voice, to day he will heare you. If some King of the earth have so large an extent of Dominion, in North, and South, as that he hath Winter and Summer together in his Dominions, so large an extent East and West, as that he hath day and night together in his Dominions, much more hath God mercy and judgement together : He brought hght out of darknesse, not out of a lesser light ; he can bring thy Summer out of Winter, though thou have no Spring ; though in the wayes of fortune, or understanding, or conscience, thou have been benighted till now, wintred and frozen, clouded and eclypsed, damped and benummed, smothered and stupified till now, now God comes to thee, not as in the dawning of

140 God*s Mercies.

the day, not as in the bud of the spring, but as the Sun at noon to illustrate all shadowes, as the sheaves in harvest, to fill all penuries, all occasions invite his mercies, and all times are his seasons.

82. God 7ioi Cruel.

NEVER propose to thy self such a God, as thou wert not bound to imitate : Thou mistakest God, if thou make him to be any such thing, or make him to do any such thing, as thou in thy proportion shouldst not be, or shouldst not do. And shouldst thou curse any man that had never offended, never transgrest, never trespast thee ? Can God have done so ? Imagine God, as the Poet saith, Ludere in humanis, to play but a game at Chesse with this world ; to sport himself with making little things great, and great things nothing : Imagine God to be but at play with us, but a gamester ; yet will a gamester curse^ before he be in danger of losing any thing ? Will God curse man, before man have sinned ?

83. The Voice of God. Audivii. TTOW often does God speake, and nobody heares the JL A. voyce ? He speaks in his Canon, in Thunder, and he speaks in our Canon, in the rumour of warres. He speaks in his musique, in the harmonious promises of the Gospel, and in our musique, in the temporall blessings of peace, and plenty ; And we heare a noyse in his Judgements, and wee heare a sound in his mercies ; but we heare no voyce, we doe not discern that this noyse, or this sound comes from any certain person ; we do not feele them to be mercies, nor to be judgements

The Voice of God. 141

uttered from God, but naturall accidents, casuall occur- rencies, emergent contingencies, which as an Atheist might think, would fall out though there were no God, or no commerce, no deaHng, no speaking between God and Man. Though Saul came not instantly to a perfect discerning who spoke, yet he saw instantly, it was a Person above nature, and therefore speakes to him in that phrase of submission, Quis es Domine ? Lord, who art thou f And after, with trembling and astonishment, (as the Text sayes) Domine quid me vis facere ? Lord what wilt thoji have me to do P Then we are truliest said to hear, when we know from whence the voyce comes. Princes are Gods Trumpet, and the Church is Gods Organ, but Christ Jesus is his voyce. When he speaks in the Prince, when he speaks in the Church, there we are bound to heare, and happy if we doe hear. Man hath a natural way to come to God, by the eie, by the creature ; So Visible things shew the Invisible God : But then, God hath super-induced a supernaturall way, by the eare. For, though hearing be naturall, yet that faith in God should come by hearing a man preach, is supernatural. God shut up the naturall way, in Saul, Seeing ; He struck him blind ; But he opened the super-naturall way, he inabled him to heare, and to heare him. God would have us beholden to grace, and not to nature, and to come for our salvation, to his Ordinances, to the preaching of his Word, and not to any other meanes.

142 God's Language.

84. God's Language.

GOD multiplies his mercies to us, in his divers ways of speaking to us. Coeli enarrant, says David, The heavens declare the glory of God ; and not onely by showing, but by saying ; there is a language in the heavens ; for. it is enarrant, a verball declaration ; and, as it followes literally, Day unto day uttereth speech. This is the true harmony of the Spheares, which every man may heare. Though he understand no tongue but his owne, he may heare God in the motions of the same, in the seasons of the yeare, in the vicissitudes and revolutions of Church, and State, in the voice of Thunder, and lightnings, and other declarations of his power. This is Gods English to thee, and his French, and his Latine, and Greek, and Hebrew to others. God once confounded languages ; that conspiring men might not understand one another, but never so, as that all men might not understand him. When the holy Ghost fell upon the Apostles, they spoke so, as that all men understood them, in their owne tongues. When the holy Ghost fell upon the waters, in the Crea- tion, God spoke so, in his language of Workes, as that all men may understand them. For, in this language, the language of workes, the Eye is the eare, seeing is hearing. How often does the holy Ghost call upon us, in the Scriptures, Ecce, quia os Domini locutum. Behold, the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it ? he calls us to behold, (which is the office of the eye) and that that we are to behold, is the voice of God, belonging to the eare ; seeing is hearing, in Gods first language, the language of works. But then God translates himself, in particular

God's Language. 143

works ; nationally, he speaks in particular judgments, or deliverances to one nation ; &, domestically, he speaks that language to a particular family ; & so personally too, he speaks to every particular soul. God will speak unto me, in that voice, and in that way, which I am most delighted with, & hearken most to. If I be covetous, God wil tel me that heaven is a pearle, a treasure. If cheerfull and affected with mirth, that heaven is all Joy. If ambitious, and hungry of preferment, that it is all Glory. If sociable, and conversable, that it is a communion of Saints. God will make a Fever speake to me, and tell me his minde, that there is no health but in him ; God will make the disfavour, and frowns of him I depend upon, speake to me, and tell me his minde, that there is no safe dependence, no assurance but in him ; God will make a storme at Sea, or 2. fire by land, speake to me, and tell mee his minde, that there is no perpetuity, no possession but in him ; nay, God will make my sinne speake to me, and tell me his minde ; even my sinne shall bee a Sermon, and a Catechisme to me ; God shall suffer mee me to fall into some such sinne, as that by some circumstances in the sinne, or consequences from the sinne, I shall be drawn to hearken unto him ; and whether I heare Hosannaes, acclamations, and commendations, or Cruci- figes, exclamations and condemnations from the world, I shall stil finde the voice and tongue of God, though in the mouth of the Devill, and his instruments. God is a declaratory God. The whole yeare, is, to his Saints, a continuall Epiphany, one day of manifestation. In every minute that strikes upon the Bell is a syllable, nay a syllogisme from God. And, and in my last Bell, God

144 God's Language.

shall speake too ; that Bell, when it tolls, shall tell me I am going, and when it rings out, shall tell you I am gone into the hands of that God, who is the God of the living and not of the dead, for, they dye not that depart in him.

H

85. God's Anger. 'ONOUR not the.mahce of thine enemy so much, as to say, thy misery comes from him : Dishonour not the complexion of the times so much, as to say, thy misery comes from them ; justifie not the Deity of Fortune so much, as to say, thy misery comes from her ; Finde God pleased with thee, and thou hast a hook in the nostrils of every Leviathan, power cannot shake thee,

lob^o. 19. Thou hast a wood to cast into the waters of Mar ah, the bitternesse of the times cannot hurt thee, thou hast

Exod.is-2Z' a Rock to dwell upon, and the dream of a Fortunes wheel, cannot overturn thee. But if the Lord be angry, he needs no Trumpets to call in Armies, if he doe but sibilare muscam, hisse and whisper for the flye, and the Bee, there is nothing so little in his hand, as cannot discomfort thee, discomfit thee, dissolve and powr out, attenuate and annihilate the very marrow of thy soul.

G

86. Gods Faults. 0T> in the Scriptures is often by the Holy Ghost invested, and represented in the qualities and affec- tions of man ; and to constitute a commerce and familiar- ity between God and man, God is not onely said to have bodily lineaments, eyes and eares, and hands, and feet, and to have some of the naturall affections of man, as Deut.3o.9» Joy, in particular, {The Lord will rejoyce over thee for

God's Faults 145

good, as he rejoyced over thy Fathers) And so, pity too,

{The Lord was with Joseph, and extended kindnesse unto Gen.39.21.

him) But some of those inordinate and irregular passions

and perturbations, excesses and defects of man, are

imputed to God, by the Holy Ghost in the Scriptures.

For so, lazinesse, drowsinesse is imputed to God ; {Awake Psal.44.23.

Lord, why sleepest thou ?) So corruptiblenesse, and

deterioration, and growing worse by ill company, is

imputed to God ; {Cum perversa perverteris, God is said 18. 26.

to grow froward with the froward, and that hee learnes

to go crookedly with them that go crookedly) And

prodigality and wastfulnesse is imputed to God ; {Thou 44- 12.

sellest thy people for naught, and doest not increase thy

wealth by their price) So sudden and hasty choler ; {Kisse 2. 12.

the Son lest he be angry, and ye perish In ira brevi, though

his wrath be kindled but a little) And then, iUimited and

boundlesse anger, a vindicative irreconciliablenesse is

imputed to God ; (/ was but a little displeased, (but it Zech. 1. 15.

is otherwise now) / am very sore displeased) So there is

Ira devorans ; {Wrath that consumes like stubble) So there Exod.15.4.

is Ira multiplicata, {Plagues renewed, and indignation loh 10. i-j.

increased) So God himselfe expresses it, (/ will fight ler. 21. 5.

against you in anger and injury) And so for his inexorable-

nesse, his irreconciliablenesse, (O Lord God of Hosts, Psal. 80. 4.

Quousque, how long wilt thou be angry against the prayer

of thy people P) Gods owne people, Gods own people

praying to their owne God, and yet their God irrecon-

ciHable to them. Scorne and contempt is imputed to

God ; which is one of the most enormious, and dispro-

portioned weakenesses in man ; that a worme that

crawles in the dust, that a graine of dust, that is hurried

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146 God's Faults.

with every blast of winde, should find any thing so much inferiour to it selfe as to scorne it, to deride it, to contemne it ; yet scorne, and derision, and contempt is imputed

I'sal. 2. 4. to God, {He that sittest in the Heavens shall laugh, the

Prov. 1. 26. Lord shall have them in derision) and againe, (/ will laugh at your calamity, I will mock you when your jeare commeth.) Nay beloved, even inebriation, excesse in that kinde, Drunkennesse, is a Metaphor which the Holy Ghost hath mingled in the expressing of Gods proceedings with man ; for God does not onely threaten to make his enemies drunke, (and to make others drunke is a circum- stance of drunkennesse) (so Jerusalem being in his

Lam. 3. 15. displeasure complaines, Inebriavit ahsynthio, {He hath made me drunke with wormewood) and againe, {They

Esay49.26. shall he drunke with their owne blood, as with new Wine) Nor onely to expresse his plentifull mercies to his friends and servants, does God take that Metaphore,

ler. 31. 14. {Inebriabo animam Sacerdotis, I will make the soide of

Ver. 25. the Priest drunke ; fill it, satiate it) and againe, (/ will make the weary soule, and the sorrowjull soule drunke) But not onely all this, (though in all this God have a hand) not onely towards others, but God in his owne behalfe

Esay43.24. complaines of the scant and penurious Sacrificer, Non inebriasti me. Thou hast not made me drunke with thy Sacrifices. And yet, though for the better applying of God to the understanding of man, the Holy Ghost impute to God these excesses, and defects of man (lazinesse and drowsiness, deterioration, corruptiblenesse by ill conversation, prodigality and wastfulnesse, sudden choler, long irreconciablenesse, scorne, inebriation, and many others) in the Scriptures, yet in no place of the Scripture

God's Faults. 147

is God, for any respect said to be proud ; God in the Scriptures is never made so like man, as to be made capable of Pride ; for this had not beene to have God like man, but like the devill.

87. God''s Judgements.

HOW desperate a state art thou in, if nothing will convert thee, but a speedie execution, after which, there is no possibility, no room left for a Conversion ! God is the Lord of Hosts, and he can proceed by Martial Law : he can hang thee upon the next tree ; he can choak thee with a crum, with a drop, at a voluptuous feast ; he can sink down the Stage and the Player, The bed of wantonness, and the wanton actor, into the jaws of the earth, into the mouth of hell : he can surprise thee, even in the act of sin ; and dost thou long for such a speedy execution, for such an expedition ? Thou canst not lack Examples, that he hath done so upon others, and will no proof serve thee, but a speedy judgement upon thyself ? Scatter thy thoughts no farther then ; contract them in thy self, and consider Gods speedy execution upon thy soul, and upon thy body, and upon thy soul and body together. Was not Gods judgement executed speedily enough upon thy soul, when in the same instant that it was created, and conceiv'd, and infus'd, it was put to a necessity of contracting Original sin, and so submitted to the penalty of Adam's disobedience, the first minute ? Was not Gods judgement speedily enough executed upon rhy body, if before it had any temporal life, it had a spiritual death ; a sinful conception, before any inanima- tion ? If hereditary diseases from thy parents, Gouts

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148 God's Judgements.

and Epilepsies, were in thee, before the diseases of thine own purchase, the effects of thy licentiousness and thy riot ; and that from the first minute that thou beganst to live, thou beganst to die too ? Are not the judge- ments of God speedily enough executed upon thy soul and body together, every day, when as soon as thou commitst a sin, thou are presently left to thine Impeni- tence, to thine Insensibleness, and Obduration ? Nay, the judgement is more speedy then so : for, that very sin it self, was a punishment of thy former sins.

88. Terrible Things.

Ttrrililis. ' I ^HOUGH there be a difference between timoTy and

JL terror, (feare and terror) yet the difference is not

so great, but that both may fall upon a good man ; Not

onely a feare of God must, but a terror of God may fall

Cen. 15.12. upon the Best. When God talked with Abraham^ a horror of great darknesse fell upon him, sayes that Text. The Father of lights, and the God of all comfort present, and present in an action of Mercy, and yet, a horror of great darknesse fell upon Abraham. When God talked person-

Exod.13.6. ally, and presentlally with Moses, Moses hid his face, for (sayes that Text) he was afraid to looke upon God. When I look upon God, as I am bid to doe in this Text, in those terrible Judgements, which he hath executed upon some men, and see that there is nothing between mee and the same Judgement, (for I have sinned the same sinnes, and God is the same God) I am not able of my selfe to dye that glasse, that spectacle, thorow which I looke upon this God, in what colour I will ; whether this glasse shall be black, through my despaire, and so I shall see God in

Terrible Things. 149

the cloud of my sinnes, or red in the blood of Christ Jesus, and I shall see God in a Bath of the blood of his Sonne, whether I shall see God as a Dove with an Olive branch, (peace to my soule) or as an Eagle, a vulture to prey, and to prey everlastingly upon mee, whether in the deepe floods of Tribulation, spirituall or temporall, I shall see God as an Arke to take mee in, or as a Whale to swallow mee ; and if his Whale doe swallow mee, (the Tribulation devour me) whether his purpose bee to restore mee, or to consume me, I, I of my selfe cannot tell. I cannot look upon God, in what line I will, nor take hold of God, by what handle I will ; Hee is a terrible God, I take him so ; And then I cannot discontinue, I cannot breake off this terriblenesse, and say, Hee hath beene terrible to that man, and there is an end of his terror ; it reaches not to me. Why not to me ? In me there is no merit, nor shadow of merit ; In God there Is no change, nor shadow of change. I am the same sinner, he is the same God ; still the same desperate sinner, still the same terrible God.

89. God's Malediction.

THERE is a malediction deposited in the Scriptures, denounced by the Church, ratified by God, brought into execution, yet it may be born, men doe bear it. How men do bear it, we know not ; what passes between God and those men, upon whom the curse of God lieth, in their dark horrours at midnight, they would not have us know, because it is part of their curse, to envy God that glory. But we may consider in some part the insup- portablenesse of that weight, if we proceed but so farre,

150 God's Malediction.

as to accommodate to God, that which is ordinarily said of naturall things. Corruptio optimi pessima ; when the best things change their nature, they become worst. When God, who is all sweetnesse, shall have learned frowardnesse from us, as David speaks ; and being all rectitude, shall have learned perversenesse and crooked- nesse from us, as Moses speaks ; and being all providence, shall have learned negligence from us : when God who is all Blessing, hath learned to curse of us, and being of himself spread as an universall Hony-combe over All, takes in an impression, a tincture, an infusion of gall from us, what extraction of Wormwood can be so bitter, what exaltation of fire can be so raging, what multiplying of talents can be so heavy, what stifnesse of destiny can be so inevitable, what confection of gnawing W'Orms, of gnashing teeth, of howling cries, of scalding brimstone, of palpable darknesse, can be so, so insupportable, so inexpressible, so in-imaginable, as the curse and male- diction of God ? And therefore let not us by our works provoke, nor by our words teach God to curse.

90. God's Pozver. AS some Schoolemasters have usd that Discipline^ to jljL correct the Children of great Persons, whose personall correction they finde reason to forbeare, by correcting other Children in tlieir names, and in their sight, and have wrought upon good Natures, that way, So did Almightie God correct the Jewes in the /Egyptians ; for the ten plagues of Egypt, were as Moses Decern Verba, as the teti Commandenients to Israel, that they should not provoke God. Every judgment that falls upon another, should

God's Power. 15^

be a Catechisme to me. But when this Discipline pre- vaild not upon them, God sold them away, gave them away, cast them away, in the tempest, in the whirlewinde, in the inundation of his indignation, and scatterd them as so much dust in a windy day, as so many broken strawes upon a wrought Sea. With one word. One Fiat {Let there bee a world,) nay with one thotight of God cast toward it, (for Gods speaking in the Creation, was but a thinking) God made all of Nothing. And is any one rationall Ant, (the wisest Phylosofher is no more) Is any roaring Lyon (the most ambitious and devouring Prince is no more) Is any hive of Bees, (The wisest Councels, and Parliaments are no more) Is any of these so estabhshd, as that, that God who by a word, by a thought, made them of nothing, cannot, by recalling that word, and withdrawing that thought, in sequestring his Providence, reduce them to nothing againe ? That Man, that Prince, that State thinks Past-board Canon-proofe, that thinkes Power, or PoHcy a Rampart, when the Ordinance of God is planted against it. Navyes will not keepe off Navies, if God be not the Pilot, Nor Walles keepe out Men, if God be not the Sentinell. If they could, if wee were walld with a Sea of fire and brimstone without, and walld with with Brasse within, yet we cannot ciel the Heavens with a roofe of Brasse, but that God can come downe in Thunder that way. Nor pave the Earth with a floare of Brasse, but that God can come up in Earthquakes that way. God can call up Da^nps, 8c Vapors from below, and powre down putride dejluxions from above, and bid them meet and condense into a plague, a plague that shall not be onely uncureable, uncontrollable, unexorable, but

152 God's Power.

undisputable, unexaminable, unquestionable ; A plague that shall not onely not admit a remedy, when it is come, but not give a reason how it did come.

91. Access to God. J~\AVID knew he could not retyre himselfe from God -^--^in his bedchamber ; Guards and Ushers could not keepe him out. He knew he could not defend himselfe from God in his Army ; for the Lord of Hosts is Lord of his Hosts. If he Jled to Sea, to Heaven, to Hell, he was sure to meet God there ; and there thou shalt meet him too, if thou fly from God, to the rehefe of outward comforts, of musicke, of mirth, of drinke, of cordialls, of Comedies, of conversation. Not that such recreations are unlawfuU ; the minde hath her physick as well as the body ; but when thy sadnesse proceeds from a sense of thy sinnes, (which is Gods key to the doore of his mercy, put into thy hand) it is a new, and a greater sin, to goe about to overcome that holy sadnesse, with these prophane diversions ; to fly Ad consolatiunculas creaturulce (as that elegant man Luther expresses it, according to his naturall delight in that elegancy of Diminutives, with which he abounds above all Authors) to the httle and contemptible comforts of little and contemptible crea- tures. And as Luther uses the physick, lob useth the Physitian ; Luther calls the comforts. Miserable comforts ; and lob calls them that minister them, Onerosos consola- tores. Miserable comforters are you all. David could not drowne his adultery in blood ; never thinke thou to drowne thine in wine. The Ministers of God are Sonnes of Thunder, they are falls of waters, trampUng of horses,

Access to God. 153

and runnings of Chariots ; and if these voyces of these Ministers, cannot overcome thy musick, thy security, yet the Angels trumpet will ; That Surgite qui dormitis, Arise yee that sleeps in the dust, in the dust of the grave, is a Treble that over-reaches all ; That Ite maledicti, Goe yee accursed into Hell Jire, is a Base that drowns all. There is no recourse but to God, no reliefe but in God ; and therefore David applied himselfe to the right method, to make his first accesse to God.

92. The Image of God in Man.

NO image, but the image of God, can fit our soul ; every other seal is too narrow, too shallow for it. The magistrate is sealed with the Lion ; the Wolf will not fit that seal : the magistrate hath a power in his hand, but not oppression. Princes are sealed with the Crown ; the Mitre will not fit that seal. Powerfully, and graciously they protect the Church, and are supream heads of the Church ; but they minister not the Sacra- ments of the Church : they give preferments ; but they give not the capacitie of preferments : they give order who shall have, but they have not Orders by which they are enabled to have that they have. Men of inferiour and laborious callings in the world are sealed with the Crosse ; a Rose, or a himch of Grapes will not answer that seal : ease and plentie in age must not be looked for without crosses, and labour, and Industrie in youth. All men. Prince, and people ; Clergie, and Magistrate, are sealed with the image of God, with a conformitie to him ; and worldly seals will not answer that, nor fill up that seal. We should wonder to see a mother in the

154 "T^^ Image of God in Man.

midst of many sweet children, passing her time in making babies and puppets for her own delight. We should wonder to see a man, whose chambers and galleries were full of curious master-pieces, thrust in a village fayre, to look upon sixpenie pictures, & three-farthing prints. We have all the image of God at home ; and we all make babies, fancies of honour in our ambitions. The master- piece is our own, in our own bosome ; and we thrust in countrey fayres, that is, we endure the distempers of any unseasonable Aveather, in night-journeys and watch- ings ; we endure the oppositions, and scorns, and triumphs of a rivall, and competitour, that seeks with us, and shares with us. We endure the guiltinesse and re- proach of having deceived the trust which a confident friend reposes in us, and solicit his wife or daughter. We endure the decay of fortune of bodie, of soul, of honour, to possesse lovers pictures ; pictures that are not originals, not made by that hand of God, Nature ; but artificiall beauties : and for that bodie we give a soul ; and for that drug, which might have been bought where they bought it, for a shilling, we give an estate. The image of God is more worth then all substances ; and we give it for colours, for dreams, for shadows.

93. Man God's Enemy, Inimiciis. AMONGST naturall Creatures, because howsoever jljL they differ in bignesse, yet they have some proportion to one another, we consider that some very httle creatures, contemptible in themselves, are yet called enemies to great creatures, as the Mouse is to the Elephant. (For the greatest Creature is not Infinite, nor the least is not

Man God's Enemy. 155

Nothing.) But shall man, betweene whom and nothing, there went but a word, Let us make Man, That Nothing, which is infinitely lesse then a Mathematical! point, then an imaginary Atome, shall this Man, this yesterdayes Nothing, this to morrow worse then Nothing, be capable of that honour, that dish onotir able honour, that confound- ing honour, to be the enemy of God, of God who is not onely a multiplied Elephant, milHons of Elephants multiplied into one, but a multipHed World, a multipHed All, All that can be conceived by us, infinite many times over ; Nay, (if we may dare to say so,) a multiplyed God, a God that hath the MiUions of the Heathens gods in himselfe alone, shall this man be an enemy to this God ? Man cannot be allowed so high a sinne, as enmity with God. The Devill himselfe is but a slave to God, and shall Man be called his enemy ? It is true, if we consider the infinite disproportion between them, he cannot ; but to many sad purposes, and in many heavy applications Man is an enemy to God.

94. ^he Atheist.

POORE intricated soule ! Riddhng, perplexed, labyrinthicall soule ! Thou couldest not say, that thou beleevest not in God, if there were no God ; Thou couldest not beleeve in God, if there were no God ; If there were no God, thou couldest not speake, thou couldest not thinke, not a word, not a thought, no not against God ; Thou couldest not blaspheme the Name of God, thou couldest not sweare, if there were no God : For, all thy faculties, how ever depraved, and perverted by thee, are from him ; and except thou canst

156 The Atheist.

seriously beleeve, that thou art nothing, thou canst not beleeve that there is no God. If I should aske thee at a Tragedy, where thou shouldest see him that had drawne blood, lie weltring, and surrounded in his owne blood, Is there a God now ? If thou couldst answer me. No, These are but Inventions, and Representations of men, and I beleeve a God never the more for this ; If I should ask thee at a Sermon, where thou shouldest heare the Judgements of God formerly denounced, and executed, re-denounced, and applied to present occasions, Is there a God now ? If thou couldest answer me. No, These are but Inventions of State, to souple and regulate Congregations, and keep people in order, and I beleeve a God never the more for this ; Bee as confident as thou canst, in company ; for company is the Atheists Sanc- tuary ; I respit thee not till the day of Judgement, when I may see thee upon thy knees, upon thy face, begging of the hills, that they would fall downe and cover thee from the fierce wrath of God, to aske thee then, Is there a God now ? I respit thee not till the day of thine own death, when thou shalt have evidence enough, that there is a God, though no other evidence, but to finde a Devill, and evidence enough, that there is a Heaven, though no other evidence, but to feele Hell ; To aske thee then, Is there a God now ? I respit thee but a few houres, but six houres, but till midnight. Wake then ; and then darke, and alone, Heare God aske thee then, remember that I asked thee now, Is there a God ? and if thou darest, say No.

The Angels. i57

95. The Angels.

THAT there are distinct orders of Angels, assuredly I beleeve ; but what they are, I cannot tell ; Dicant qui possunt ; si tanten probare possunt quod dicunt, sales that Father, Let them tell you that can, so they be able to prove, that they tell you true. They are Creatures, that have not so much of a Body zs flesh is, as froth is, as a vapor is, as a sigh is, and yet with a touch they shall molder a rock into lesse Atomes, then the sand that it stands upon ; and a milstone into smaller flower, then it grinds. They are Creatures madey and yet not a minute elder now, then when they were first made, if they were made before all measure of time began ; nor, if they were made in the beginning of Time, and be now six thousand yeares old, have they one wrinckle of Age in their face, or one sobbe of wearinesse in their lungs. They are primogeniti Dei, Gods eldest sonnes ; They are super-elementary meteors, they hang between the nature of God, and the nature of man, and are of middle Condition ; And, (if we may offencelessely expresse it so) they are anigmata Divina, The Riddles of Heaven, and the perplexities of speculation.

96. The Devil.

SOME of the ancient Fathers, delivering the mercies IlUs omni- of God, so, as the articles of our Church enjoyne *^' them to bee delivered, that is, generally, as they are delivered in the Scriptures, have delivered them so over-generally, that they have seemed loth to thinke the devill himselfe excluded from all benefit of Christs

158 The Devil.

comming. Some of the later Authors in the Roman Church, (who, as pious as they pretend to be towards the Fathers, are apter to discover the nakednesse of the Fathers, then we are) have noted in Iiistin Martyr, and in Epiphanius, and in Clement of Alexandria, and in Oecumenius, (and Oecumenius is no single Father, but Pater patratus, a manifold Father, a compHcated father, a Father that collected Fathers) and even in S. lerome himselfe, and S. Ambrose too, some inclinations towards that opinion, that the devill retaining still his faculty of free will, is therefore capable of repentance, and so of benefit by this comming of Christ ; And those Authors of the Roman Church, that modifie the matter, and excuse the Fathers herein, excuse them no other way but this, that though that opinion and doctrine of those Fathers, bee not true in it self e, yet it was never condemned by any Councell, nor by any ancient Father. So very far, did very many goe in enlarging the mercies of God in Christ, to all. But waiving this over-large extention and profusion thereof, and directing it upon a more possible, and a more credible object, that is, Man ; S. Cyril of Alexandria, speaking of the possibility of the salvation of all men, sales, by way of objection to himselfe, Omnes non credunt, How can all be saved since all doe not beleeve ? but, sales he. Because actually they do not beleeve, is it therefore impossible they should beleeve ? And for actuall beleefe, sales he, though all doe not, yet so many doe, ut facile qui pereant, svperent, that, by Gods goodnesse, more are saved, then lost, sales that Father of tender and large bowels, S. Cyril. And howsoever he may seeme too tender, and too large herein, yet it is

The Devil. i59

a good peece of counsaile, which that Rabbi whom I Moses, named before, gives, Ne redarguas en falsitatis, de quorum contrariis nulla est demonstration Be not apt to call any opinion false, or hereticall, or damnable, the contrary whereof cannot be evidently proved.

97. The Creation.

THERE is but one God ; but yet was that one God ever alone F There were more generations (infinitely infinite) before the world was made, then there have been minutes, since it was made : all that while, there were no creatures ; but yet was God alone, any one minute of al this ? was there not alwais a Father and a Son, & a holy Ghost ? And had not they, always an acquies- cence in one another, an exercise of Affection, (as we may so say) a love, a delight, and a complacency towards one another ? So, as that the Father could not be without the Son and the holy Ghost, so as neither Sonne, nor holy Ghost could be without the Father, nor without one another ; God was from all eternity collected into one God, yet from all eternity he derived himselfe into three persons : God could not be so alone, but that there have been three persons, as long as there hath been one God.

Had God company enough of himselfe ; was he satisfied Creaiio. in the three Persons ? We see he proceeded further ; he came to a Creation ; And as soon as he had made light, (which was his first Creature) he took a pleasure in it ; he said it zvas good ; he was glad of it ; glad of the Sea, glad of the Earth, glad of the Sunne, and Moone, and Starres, and he said of every one, It is good ; But when he had made All, peopled the whole world, brought all

i6o The Creation.

creatures together, then he was very glad, and then he said, not onely, that it was good, but that it was very good : God was so far from being alone, as that he found not the fulnesse of being well, till all was made, till all Creatures met together, in an Host, as Moses calls it ; then the good was extended into very good.

Angeli. Did God satisfie himselfe with this visible and discernible

world ; with all on earth, and all between that, and him ? were those Joure Monarchies, the foure Elements, and all the subjects of those foure Monarchies, (if all the foure Elements have Creatures) company enough for God ? was that Heptarchie, the seven kingdomes of the seven Planets, conversation enough for him ? Let every Starre in the firmament, be (so some take them to be) a severall world, was all this enough ? we see, God drew persons nearer to him, then Sunne, or Moon, or Starres, or any thing, which is visible, and discernible to us, he created Angels ; How many, how great ? Arithmetique lacks numbers to to expresse them, proportion lacks Dimensions to figure them ; so far was God from being alone.

Homines. And yet God had not shed himselfe far enough ; he had the Leviathan, the Whale in the Sea, and Behemoth and the Elephant upon the land ; and all these great heavenly bodies in the way, and Angels in their infinite numbers, and manifold offices, in heaven ; But, because Angels, could not propagate, nor make more Angels, he enlarged his love, in making man, that so he might enjoy all natures at once, and have the nature of Angels, and the nature of earthly Creatures, in one Person. God would not be without man, nor he would not come single, not alone to the making of man ; but it is Faciamus

The Creation. i6i

hominem, Let us^ ns, make man ; God, in his whole counsail, in his whole Colledge, in his whole society, in the whole Trinity, makes man, in whom the whole nature of all the world should meet.

•98. The Heavens and Earth.

NEVER such a frame so soon set up, as this in this chapter : For, for the thing it self, there is no other thing to compare it with ; for it is all, it is the whole world. And for the time, there was no other time to compare it with ; for this was the beginning of time, In the beginning God created heaven and earth. That earth, which in some thousands of yeares men could not look over, nor discern what form it had (for neither Lactaniius, almost three hundred yeares after Christ ; nor S. Augustine, more then one hundred yeares after him, would beleeve the earth to be round) That earth, which no man in his person is ever said to have compassed till our age : That earth which is too much for man yet, (for, as yet a very great part of the earth is unpeopled) That earth, which, if we will cast it all but into a Map, costs many moneths labour to grave it ; nay, if we will cast but a piece of an acre of it into a garden, costs many yeares labour to fashion and furnish it ; all that earth : And then that heaven, which spreads so farre, as that subtill men have, with some appearance of probabilitie, imagined, that in that heaven, in those manifold Spheres of the Planets and the Starres, there are many earths, many worlds, as big as this which we inhabit : That earth and that heaven, which spent God himself, Almightie God, six dayes in finishing ; Moses sets up in a few

1 62 The Heavens and Earth.

syllables, in one line, In principio, In the beginning God created heaven and earth. If a Livie or a Guicciardine, or such extensive and voluminous authours had had this story in hand, God must have made another world, to have made them a library to hold their books, of the making of this world. Into what wire would they have drawn out this earth! Into what leaf-gold would they have beat out these heavens ! It may assist our conjecture herein, to consider, that amongst those men, who proceed with a sober modestie and limitation in their writing, & make a conscience not to clog the world with unnecessary books ; yet the volumes which are written by them, upon the beginning of Genesis, are scarce lesse than infinite. God did no more but say, Let this & this be done ; and Moses doth no more but say, that upon Gods saying it was done. God required not Nature to help him to doit; Moses required not Reason to help him to beleeve.

99. The Creation of a Harmonious World,.

GOD made this whole world in such an uniformity, such a correspondency, such a concinnity of parts, as that it was an Instrument, perfectly in tune : we may say, the trebles, the highest strings were disordered first ; the best understandings. Angels and Men, put this instrument out of tune. God rectified all again, by putting in a new string, semen mulieriSf the seed of the woman, the Messias : And onely by sounding that string in your ears, become we musicum carmen, true musick, true harmony, true peace to you. If we shall say, that Gods first string in this instrument, was Reprobation, that Gods first intention, was, for his glory to damn

Creation of a Harmonious World. 16-^

man ; and that then he put in another string, of creating Man, that so he might have some body to damn ; and then another of enforcing him to sin, that so he might have a just cause to damne him ; and then another, of disabhng him to lay hold upon any means of recovery : there's no musick in all this, no harmony, no peace in such preaching. But if we take this instrument, wlien Gods hand tun'd it the second time, in the promise of a Messias, and offer of the love & mercy of God to all that will receive it in him ; then we are truely inusicum carmen^ as a love-song, when we present the love of God to you, and raise you to the love of God in Christ Jesus : for, for the musick of the Sphears, whatsoever it be, we cannot hear it ; for the decrees of God in heaven, we cannot say we have seen them; our musick is onely that salvation which is declared in the Gospel to all them, and to them onely, who take God by the right hand, as he delivers himself in Christ.

100. God and Adam and Eve.

WHO hath divided heaven into shires or parishes, or limited the territories or jurisdictions there, that God should not have and exercise judicium dis- cretionisy the power of discerning all actions in all places, when there was no more to be seen nor considered upon the whole earth, but the garden of Paradise ? for from the beginning, Delicicc ejus esse cum filiis homi7iuvi^ Gods delight was to be with the sonnes of tnen ; and man was only there. Shall we diminish God, or speak too vulgarly of him, to say that he hovered like a falcon over Paradise, and that from that height of heaven the piercing eye of God saw so Httle a thing as the forbidden

M 2

164 God and Adam and Eve.

fruit, and what became of that ? and the reaching eare of God heard the hissing of the serpent, and the whisper- ing of the woman, and what was concluded upon that ? shall we think it little to have seen things done in Paradise, when there was nothing else to divert his eye, nothing else to distract his counsels, nothing else done upon the face of the earth ? take the earth now as it is replenished, and take it either as it is torn and crumbled in rags and shivers, not a kingdome, not a family, not a man agreeing with himself ; or take it in that concord which is in it, as all the kings of the earth set themselves, and all the rulers of the earth take counsel together against the Lord ; take it in this union, or this disunion ; in this concord, or this disconcord ; still the Lord that sitteth in the heavens discerns all, looks at all, laughs at all, and hath them in derision. Earthly judges have their districtions, and so their restrictions ; some things they cannot know : what mortall man can know all ? some things they cannot take knowledge of, for they are bounded : no cloud, no darkness, no disguise keeps him from discerning and judging all our actions.

1 01. The World since the Fall. Morieiur. "\ T THEN Paradise should have extended, as man should Vt have multiplied, and every holy family, every religious Colony have constituted a new Paradise, that as it was said of Egypt, when it abounded with Hermitages in the Primitive persecutions, That Egypt was a continuall City of Hermitages ; so all the world should have been a continuall Garden of Paradises, when all affections should have been subjects, and all creatures servants,

The World since the Fall. 165

and all wives helpers, then life was a sincere blessing. But, but a mixt blessing now, when all these are so much vitiated ; onely a possible blessing ; a disputable, a con- ditionable, a circumstantiall blessing now. If there were any other way to be saved and to get to Heaven, then by being born into this life, I would not wish to have come into this world. And now that God hath made this life a Bridge to Heaven ; it is but a giddy, and a vertiginous thing, to stand long gazing upon so narrow a bridge, and over so deep and roaring waters, and desper- ate whirlpools, as this world abounds with : So teach Psal.go.12. us to number our dayes, saith David, that zve may apply our hearts unto wisedome : Not to number them so, as that we place our happinesse, in the increase of their number.

102* Silkworms.

SHALL we that are but wormes, but silke-wormesy but gloio-wormes at best^ chide God that hee hath made slozv-<oornies, and other venimous creeping things ? shall we that are nothing but boxes of poyson in our selves, reprove God for making Toads and Spiders in the world ? shall we that are all discord, quarrell the harmony of his Creation, or his providence ^ Can an Apothecary make a Soveraign triacle of Vipers, and other poysons, and cannot God admit offences, and scandals into his physick ? scandals, and offences, tentations, and tribula- tions, are our leaven that ferment us, and our lees that preserve us. Use them to Gods glory, and to thine own estabhshing, and then thou shall be a particular exception to that generall Rule, the Va mundo a scandalis, shall be an Euge tibi a scandalis, thou shalt see that it was

1 66 Silkworms.

well for thee, that there were scandals and offences In the world, for they shall have exercised thy patience, they shall have occasioned thy victory, they shall have assured thy triumph.

103. Original Sin.

SCARCE any man considers the weight of Originall sinne ; And yet, as the strongest tentations fall upon us when wee are weakest, in our death-bed^ so the heavyest sinne seises us, when wee are weakest ; as soon as wee are any thing, we are sinners, and there, where there can be no more tentations ministred to us, then was to the Angels that fell in heaven, that is, in our mothers womb, when no world, nor flesh, nor Devill could present a provocation to sinne to us, when no faculty of ours is able to embrace, or second a provocation to sin, yet there, in that weaknesse, we are under the weight of Originall sin. And truly, if at this time, God would vouchsafe mee my choice, whether hee should pardon me all those actual and habituall sins, which I have committed in my life, or extinguish Originall sinne in me, I should chuse to be delivered from Originall sin, because, though T be delivered from the imputation thereof, by Baptism^ so that I shall not fall under a condemnation for Originall sin onely, yet it still remains in me, and practices upon me, and occasions all the other sins, that I commit : now, for all my actuall and habituall sins, I know God hath instituted meanes in his Church, the Word, and the Sacraments, for my reparation ; But with what a holy alacrity, with what a heavenly joy, with what a cheerfull peace, should I come to the participation of these meanes

Original Sin. 167

and seals of my reconciliation, and pardon of all my sins, if I knew my selfe to be delivered from Originall sinne, from that snake in my bosome, from that poyson in my blood, from that leaven and tartar in all my actions, that casts me into Relapses of those sins which I have repented ? And what a cloud upon the best serenity of my conscience, what an interruption, what a dis- continuance from the sincerity and integrity of that joy, which belongs to a man truly reconciled to God, in the pardon of his former sins, must it needs be still to know, and to know by lamentable experiences, that though I wash my selfe with Soap, and Nitre, and Snow- water, mine own cloathes will defile me again, though I have washed my selfe in the tears of Repentance, and in the blood of my Saviour, though I have no guiltinesse of any former sin upon me at that present, yet I have a sense of a root of sin, that is not grub'd up, of Originall sinne, that will cast me back again. Scarce any man considers the weight, the oppression of Originall sinne. No man can say, that an Akorn weighs as much as an Oak ; yet in truth, there is an Oak in that Akorn : no man considers that Originall sinne weighs as much as Actuall, or Habituall, yet in truth, all our Actuall and Habituall sins are in Originall. Therefore Saint Pauls vehement, and frequent prayer to God, to that purpose, could not deliver him from Originall sin, and that stimulus carnis, that provocation of the flesh, that Messenger of Satan, which rises out of that, God would give him sufficient grace, it should not worke to his destruction, but yet he should have it : Nay, the infinite merit of Christ Jesus himself, that works so upon all

i68 Original Sin.

actuall and habituall sins, as that after that liierit is applyed to them, those sins are no sins, works not so upon Originall sin, but that, though I be eased in the Dominion, and Imputation thereof, yet the same Originall sin is in me still ; and though God doe deliver me from eternall death, due to mine actuall and habituall sins, yet from the temporall death, due to Originall sin, he delivers not his dearest Saints.

104. Original Sin.

MISERABLE man ! a Toad is a bag of Poyson, and a Spider is a blister of Poyson, and yet a Toad and a Spider cannot poyson themselves ; Man hath a dram of poyson, originall-Sin, in an invisible corner, we know not where, and he cannot choose but poyson himself and all his actions with that ; we are so far from being able to begin without Grace, as then where we have the first Grace, we cannot proceed to the use of that, without more.

105. J he Heart of the Sinner.

THE holyest man cannot at all times finde his own heart, (his heart may be bent upon Religion, and yet he cannot tell in which Religion ; and upon Preaching, and yet he cannot tell which Preacher ; and upon Prayer, and yet he shall finde strayings and deviations in his Prayer) much more hardly is the various and vagabond heart of such an indifferent sinner, to be found by any search. If he enquire for his heart, at that Chamber where he remembers it was yesterday, in lascivious and lustful purposes, he shall hear that it went from thence

The Heart of the Sinner. 169

to some riotous Feasting, from thence to some Blas- phemous Gaming, after, to some Malicious Consultation of entanghng one, and supplanting another ; and he shall never trace it so close, as to drive it home, that is, to the consideration of itself, and that God that made it ; nay, scarce to make it consist in any one particular sin. . . .

This is' the full setting of the heart to do evil, when a man fills himself with the Uberty of passing into any sin, in an indifferencie ; and then iindes no reason why he should leave that way, either by the love, or by the fear of God. If he prosper by his sin, then he findes no reason ; if he do not prosper by it, yet he iindes a wrong reason. If unseasonable flouds drown his Harvest, and frustrate all his labours, and his hopes ; he never findes, that his oppressing, and grinding of the Poor, was any cause of those waters, but he looks only how the Winde sate, and how the ground lay ; and he concludes, that if Noah, andEzek.14.14. Job, and Daniel had been there their labour must have perished, and been drown'd, as well as his. If a vehement Fever take hold of him, he remembers where he sweat, and when he took cold ; where he walked too fast, where his Casement stood open, and where he was too bold upon Fruit, or meat of hard digestion ; but he never remembers the sinful and naked Wantonnesses, the pro- fuse and wastful Dilapidations of his own body, that have made him thus obnoxious and open to all dangerous Distempers. Thunder from heaven burns his Barns, and he says, What luck was this ? if it had fallen but ten foot short or over, my barns had been safe : whereas his former blasphemings of the Name of God, drew down

lyo The Heart of the Sinner.

that Thunder upon that house, as it was his ; and that Lightning could no more fall short or over, then the Angel which was sent to Sodom could have burnt another Citie, and have spar'd that ; or then the plagues of Moses and of Aaron could have fallen upon Goshen, and have spar'd Egypt. His Corners abound with Manna, he overflows with all for necessities, and with all delicacies, in this life ; and yet he finds worms in his Manna, a putrefaction, and a mouldring away, of this abundant state ; but he sees not that that is, because his Manna was gathered upon the Sabbath, that there were profana- tions of the Name and Ordinances of God, mingled m his means of growing rich.

1 06. Light Sins..

THERE are some sins so rooted, so riveted in men, so incorporated, so consubstantiated in the soule, by habituall custome, as that those sins have contracted the nature of Ancient possessions. As men call Manners by their names, so sins have taken names from men, and from places ; Simon Magus gave the name to a sin, and so did Gehazi, and Sodom did so : There are sins that run in Names, in Famihes, in Blood ; Hereditary sins, entailed sins ; and men do almost prove their Gentry by those sins, and are scarce beleeved to be rightly borne, if they have not those sins ; These are great possessions, and men do much more easily part with Christ, then with these sins. But then there are lesse sins, light sins, vanities ; and yet even these come to possesse us, and separate us from Christ. How many men neglect this ordinary meanes of their Salvation,

Light Sins. 171

the comming to these Exercises, not because their undoing lyes on it, or their discountenancing ; but meerely out of levity, of vanity, of nothing ; they know not what to do else, and yet do not this. You heare of one man that was drowned in a vessel! of Wine ; but how many thousands in ordinary water ? And he was no more drowned in that precious liquor, then they in that common water. A gad of Steele does no more choake a man, then a feather, then a haire ; Men perish with whispering sins, nay with silent sins, sins that never tell the conscience they are sins, as often as with crying sins: And in hell there shall meet as many men, that never thought what was sin, as that spent all their thoughts in the compassing of sin ; as many, who in a slack inconsideration, never cast a thought upon that place, as that by searing their conscience, overcame the sense and feare of the place. Great sins are great possessions ; but levities and vanities possesse us too ; and men had rather part with Christ, then with any possessions.

107. 7 he Sin (tf Reason.

PSAL. 55. 19. Because They have no changes, therefore They fear not God. In a Prison, where men wither'd in a close and perpetual imprisonment ; In a Galley, where men were chain'd to a laborious and perpetual slavery ; In places, where any change that could come, would put them in a better state, then they were before, this might seem a fitter text, then in a Court, where every man having set his foot, or plac'd his hopes upon the present happy state, and blessed Government, every man is rather to be presum'd to love God, because there are no changes,

172 The Sin of Reason.

then to take occasion of murmuring at the constancie of Gods goodness towards us. But because the first murmuring at their present condition, the first Innovation that ever w^as, w^as in Heaven ; The Angels kept not their first Estate : Though as Princes are Gods, so their well-govern'd Courts, are Copies, are representations of Heaven ; yet the Copy cannot be better then the Original : And therefore, as Heaven it self had, so all Courts will ever have, some persons, that are under the Increpation of this text, Th!it, Because they have no changes, therefore they fear not God : At least, if I shall meet with no conscience, that finds in himself a guiltiness of this sin, if I shall give him no occasion of repentance, yet I shall give him occasion of praysing, and magnifying that gracious God, which hath preserved him from such sins, as other men have fallen into, though he have not : For, I shall let him see first. The dangerous slipperiness, the concurrence, the co-incidence of sins ; that a habit and custom of sin, sHps easily into that dangerous degree

Divisio. of Obduration, that men come to sin upon Reason ; they find a Quia, a Cause, a Reason why they should sin : and then, in a second place, he shall see, what perv^erse and frivolous reasons they assign for their sins, when they are come to that ; even that which should avert them, they make the cause of them, Because they have no changes. And then, lastly, by this perverse mistaking, they come to that infatuation, that dementation, as that they loose the principles of all knowledge, and all wisedom : 7he fear of God is the beginning of wisdotn. ; and, Because they have no changes y they fear not God.

Part I. First then, We enter into our first Part, the slipperiness

The Sin of Reason. 173

of habitual sin, with that note of S. Gugorie, Peccatum cum voce, est culpa cum actione ; peccatum cum clamore, est culpa cum libertate ; Sinful thoughts produc'd into actions, are speaking sins ; sinful actions continued into habits, are crying sins. There is a sin before these ; a speechless sin, a whispering sin, which no body hears, but our own conscience ; which is, when a sinful thought or purpose is born in our hearts, first we rock it, by tossing, and tumbling it in our fancies, and imaginations, and by . entertaining it with delight and consent, & with remem- bring, with how much pleasure we did the Hke sin before, and how much we should have, if we, could bring this to pass ; And as we rock it, so we swathe it, we cover it, with some pretences, some excuses, some hopes of covercling it ; and this is that, which we call Morosam delectationem, a delight to stand in the air and prospect of a sin, and a loathness to let it go out of our sight. Of this sin S. Gregory sayes nothing in this place, but onely of actual sins, which he calls speaking ; and of habitual, which he calls crying sins. And this is as far, as the Schools, or the Casuists do ordinarily trace sin ; To find out peccata Infantia, speechless sins, in the heart ; peccata vacantia, speaking sins, in our actions ; And peccata clamantia, crying and importunate sins, which will not suffer God to take his rest, no nor to fulfil his own Oath, and protestation : He hath said. As I live, I would not the death of a sinner ; and they extort a death from him. But besides these. Here is a farther degree, beyond speaking sins, and crying sins ; beyond actual sins and habitual sins ; here are peccata cum ratione, and cjim disputatione ; we will reason, we will debate, we will

174 The Sin of Reason.

dispute it out with God, and we will conclude against all his Arguments, that there is a Quia^ a Reason, why we should proceed and go forward in our sin : Et pudet non esse impudentes, as S. Augustiiie heightens this sinful disposition ; Men grow asham'd of all holy shamefac'd- ness, and tenderness towards sin ; they grow asham'd to be put off, or frighted from their sinful pleasure, with the ordinary terror of Gods imaginary judgements ; asham'd to be no wiser than S. Paul would have them, J Cor. 1. 21. to be mov'd, or taken hold of, by the foolishness of preaching; or to be no stronger of themselves then so, that we should Matth. 8. trust to anothers taking of our infirmities, and bearing of our sicknesses ; Or to be no richer, or no more provi- dent then so. To sell all, and give it away, and make I-UC.I2. a treasure in Heaven, and all this for fear of Theeves, and Rust, and Canker, and Moths here. That which is not allowable in Courts of Justice, in criminal Causes, to hear Evidence against the King, we will admit against God ; we will hear Evidence against God ; we will hear what mans reason can say in favor of the Dehnquent, why he should be condemned ; why God should punish the soul eternally, for the momentany pleasures of the body : Nay, we suborn vwtnesses against God, and we make Philosophy and Reason speak against Religion, and against God ; though indeed, Omne verum, omni vero consentiens ; what- soever is true in Philosophy, is true in Divinity too ; howsoever we distort it, and wrest it to the contrary. We hear Witnesses, and we suborn Witnesses against God, and we do more ; we proceed by Recriminations, and a cross Bill, with a Quia Deus, because God

The Sin of Reason. 175

does as he does, we may do as we do ; Because God does not punish Sinners, we need not forbear sins ; whilst we sin strongly, by oppressing others, that are weaker, or craftily by circumventing others that are simple. This is but Leoninum, and Fulpinum, that tincture of the Lyon, and of the Fox, that brutal nature that is in us. But when we come to sin, upon reason, and upon discourse, upon Meditation, and upon plot. This is Humanum^ to become the Man of Sin, to surrender that, which is the Form, and Essence of man. Reason, and understanding, to the service of sin. When we come to sin wisely and learnedly, to sin logically, by a Quia, and an Ergo, that, Because God does thus, we may do as we do, we shall come to sin through all the Arts, and all our knowledge. To sin Grammatically, to tie sins together in construction, in a Syntaxis, in a chaine, and dependance, and coherence upon one another : And to sin Historically, to sin over sins of other men again, to sin by precedent, and to practice that which we had read : and we come to sin Rhetori- cally, perswasively, powerfully ; and as we have found examples for our sins in History, so we become examples to others, by our sins, to lead and encourage them, in theirs ; when we come to employ upon sin, that which is the essence of man. Reason, and discourse, we will also employ upon it, those which are the properties of man onely, which are. To speak, and to laugh ; we will tome to speak, and talk, and to boast of our sins, and at last, to laugh and jest at our sins ; and as we have made sin a Recreation, so we will make a jest of our condemnation. And this is the dangerous slipperiness

176 The Sin of Reason.

of sin, to slide by Thoughts and Actions, and Habits, to contemptuous obduration.

f:

108. Delight in Evil, 'IRST then, what is this setting of the heart ufon evil ; and then, what is this fulness, that leaves no room for a Cure ? When a man receives figures and images of sin, into his Fancie and Imagination, and leads them on to his understanding and Discourse, to his Will, to his Consent, to his Heart, by a delightful dwelling upon the meditation of that sin ; yet this is not a setting of the heart upon doing evil. To be surpris'd by a Tenta- tion, to be overthrown by it, to be held down by it for a time, is not it. It is not when the devil looks in at the window to the heart, by presenting occasions of tentations, to the eye ; nor when he comes in at the door, to our heart, at the ear, either in lascivious discourses, or Satyrical and Libellous defamations of other men : It is not, when the devil is put to his Circuit, to seek whom he may devour, and how he may corrupt the King by his Council, That is, the Soul by the Senses : But it is, when by a habitual custom in sin, the sin arises meerly and immediately from my self : It is, when the heart hath usurp'd upon the devil, and upon the world too, and is able and apt to sin of it self, if there were no devil, and if there were no outward objects of tentation : when our Chrysost. own heart is become spontanea insania, if? voluntarius dcemon. Such a wilful Madness, and such a voluntary and natural Devil to it self, as that we should be ambitious, though we were in an Hospital ; and Ucentious, though we were in a wilderness ; and voluptuous, though in

Delight in Evil. 177

a famine : so that such a mans heart, is as a land of such Gyants, where the Children are born as great, as the Men of other nations grow to be ; for those sins, which in other men have their birth, and their growth, after their birth, they begin at a Concupiscence, and proceed to a Consent, and grow up to Actions, and swell up to Habits ; In this man, sin begins at a stature and proportion above all this ; he begins at a delight in the sin, and comes instantly to a defence of it, and to an obduration and impenitibleness in it : This is the evil of the heart, by the mis-use of Gods grace, to devest and lose all tender- ness and remorse in sin.

109. Excuses.

LET no man therefore think to present his complexion J to God for an excuse, and say. My choler with which my constitution abounded, and which I could not remedy, encHned me to wrath, and so to bloud ; My Melancholy encHned me to sadnesse, and so to Desperation, as though thy sins were medicinall sins, sins to vent humors. Let no man say, I am continent enough all the yeare, but the spring works upon me, and inflames my concupiscencies, as though thy sins were seasonable and anniversary sins. Make not thy CaUing the occasion of thy sin, as though thy sin were a Mysterie, and an Occupation ; Nor thy place, thy station, thy office the occasion of thy sin, as though thy sin were an Heir-loome, or furniture, or fixed to the freehold of that place : for this one proposition, God is no accepter of persons^ is so often repeated, that all 2oa5'3 N

178 Excuses.

circumstances of Dispositions, and Callings, and tiiric, and place might be involved in it.

1 10. Rebuke of Sin.

THE rebuke of sin, is like the fishing of Whales ; the Marke is great enough ; one can scarce missc hitting ; but if there be not sea room and line enough, & a dexterity in letting out that line, he that hath fixed his harping Iron, in the Whale, endangers himselfe, and his boate ; God hath made \x% fishers of Men \ and when we have struck a Whale, touch'd the conscience of any person, which thought himselfe above rebuke, and increpation, it struggles, and strives, and as much as it can, endevours to draw fishers, and boate, the Man and his fortune into contempt, and danger. But if God tye a sicknesse, or any other calamity, to the end of the line, that will winde up this Whale againe, to the boate, bring back this rebellious sinner better advised, to the mouth of the Minister, for more counsaile, and to a better souplenesse, and inclinablenesse to conforme himselfe, to that which he shall after receive from him ; onely calamity makes way for a rebuke to enter.

111. Names of Sins.

1 Part. I .^IRST then in this mystery of Confession, we con- hoiumject. J_^ sider Davids reflected act, his preparatory act, preceding his confession to God, and transacted in him- selfe, of which the first motion is, the Notum feci, I acknowledged in my selfe, I came to a feeling in my selfe, what my sinfull condition was. This is our quickning in our regeneration, and second birth ; and til this come.

Names of Sins. 179

a sinner lies as the Chaos in the beginning of the Creation, before the Spirit of God had moved upon the face of the waters. Dark, and voyd, and without forme ; He lies, as we may conceive, out of the Authors of Naturall Story, the shme and mud of the River Nilus to lie, before the Sun-beames strike upon it ; which after, by the heat of those beames, produces severall shapes, and formes of creatures. So till this first beame of grace, which we consider here, strike upon the soule of a sinner, he lies in the mud and slime, in the dregs and lees, and tartar of his sinne, Hee cannot so much as wish, that that Sunne would shine upon him, he doth not so much as know, that there is such a Sunne, that hath that influence^ and impression ; But if this first beame of Grace enlighten him to himselfe, reflect him upon himselfe, notum facit, (as the Text sayes) if it acquaint him with himselfe, then, as the creatures in the Creation, then, as the new creatures at Nilus, his sins begin to take their formes, and their specifications, and they appeare to him in their particular true shapes, and that which hee hath in a generall name, called Pleasure or Wantonnesse, now cals it selfe in his conscience, a direct Adultery, a direct Incest ; and that which he hath called Frugality, and providence for family and posterity, tells him plainly. My name is Oppression, and I am the spirit of covetousnesse. Many times men fall into company, and accompany others to houses of riot and uncleannesse, and doe not so much as know their sinful! companions names ; nay they doe not so much as know the names of the sins that they commit, nor those circumstances in those sinnes, which vary the very name and nature of the sin.

N 2

i8o Pride.

112. Pride.

SOLITUDE is not the scene of Pride ; The danger of pride is in company, when we meet to looke upon another. But in Adams wife, Eve, her first act (that is noted) was an act of Pride, a hearkning to that voyce

Gen. 3. 5. of the Serpent, Te shall be as Gods. As soone as there were two, there was pride. How many may we have knowne, (if we have had any conversation in the world) that have been content all the weeke, at home alone, with their worky day faces, as well as with their worky day clothes, and yet on Sundayes, when they come to Church, and appeare in company, will mend both, their faces as vvell as their clothes. Not solitude, but company is the scene of pride ; And therefore I know not what to call that practice of the Nunnes in Spaine, who though they never see man, yet will paint. So early, so primary a sin is Pride, as that it grew instantly from her, whom God

Gen. 3. 18. intended for a Helper, because he saw that it was not good for man to be alone. God sees that it is not good for man to be without health, without wealth, without power, and jurisdiction, and magistracy, and we grow proud of our helpers, proud of our health and strength, proud of our wealth and riches, proud of our ofhce and authority over others.

So early, so primary a sin is pride, as that, out of every mercy, and blessing, which God affords us, (and. His mercies are new every morning we gather Pride ; wee are not the more thankfull for them, and yet we are the prouder of them. Nay, we gather Pride, not onely out of those things, which mend and improve us, (Gods

Pride. i8i

blessings and mercies) but out of those actions of our own, that destroy and ruine us, we gather pride ; sins over- throw us, demolish us, destroy and ruine us, and yet we are proud of our sinnes. How many men have we heard boast of their sinnes ; and, (as S. Augustine confesses of himselfe) belie themselves, and boast of more sinnes then ever they committed ? Out of every thing, out of nothing sin grows. Therefore was this commandment in our text, Sequere, Follow^ come after, well placed first, for we are come to see even children strive for place and precedency, and mothers are ready to goe to the Heralds to know how Cradles shall be ranked, which Cradle shall have the highest place ; Nay, even in the wombe, there was contention for precedency ; lacob tooke hold of Gen.25.26. his brother Esaiis heele, and would have been borne: before him.

And as our pride begins in our Cradle, it continues Superbia in our graves and Monuments. It was a good while |"^*")^""' in the primitive Church, before any were buried in the Church ; The best contented themselves with the Churchyards. After, a holy ambition, (may we call it so) a holy Pride brought them ad Liniina, to the Church- threshold, to the Church-doore, because some great Martyrs were buried in the Porches, and devout men desired to lie neare them, as one Prophet did to lie neare another, (Lay my bones besides his bones.) But now, i King. 13. persons whom the Devill kept from Church all their ^^* lives. Separatists, Libertines, that never came to any Church, And persons, whom the Devill brought to Church all their Hves, (for, such as come meerly out of the obhgation of the Law, and to redeem that vexation,

1 82 Pride.

or out of custome, or company, or curiosity, or a perverse and sinister aifection to the particular Preacher, though they come to Gods house, come upon the Devils invitation) Such as one Devill, that is, worldly respect, brought to Church in their lives, another Devill, that is. Pride and vain-glory, brings to Church after their deaths, in an affectation of high places, and sumptuous Monuments in the Church. And such as have given nothing at all to any pious uses, or have determined their almes and their dole which they have given, in that one day of their f unerall, and no farther, have given large annuities, perpetuities, for new painting their tombes, and for new flags, and scutcheons, every certaine number of yeares.

O the earlinesse ! O the latenesse ! how early a Spring, and no Autumne ! how fast a growth, and no declination, of this branch of this sin Pride, against which, this first word of ours, Sequcre, Follow, come after, is opposed ! this love of place, and precedency, it rocks us in our Cradles, it lies down with us in our graves.

Hi

113. Covetousness. ^AST thou found honey F Eat so much as is sufficient ■for thee, lest thou he filled therewith, and vomit it. — Prov. XXV. 16. . . . le $2iirris. Hee doth not say yet, lest thou bee satisfied ; there is no great feare, nay there is no hope of that, that he will be satisfied. We know the receipt, the capacity of the ventricle, the stomach of man, how much it can hold ; and wee know the receipt of all the receptacles of blood, how much blood the body can have ; so wee doe of all the other conduits and cisterns of the

Covetousness. 183

body ; But this infinite Hive of honey, this insatiable vvhirlpoole of the covetous mind, no Anatomy, no dissection hath discovered to us. When I looke into the larders, and cellars, and vaults, into the vessels of our body for drink, for blood, for urine, they are pottles, and gallons : when I looke into the furnaces of our spirits, the ventricles of the heart and of the braine, they are but thimbles ; for spirituall things,, the things of the next vv^orld, we have no roome ; for temporall things, the things of this world, we have no bounds. How then shall this over-eater bee filled with his honey ? So filled, as that he can receive nothing else. More of the same honey hee can ; Another Manner, and another Church, is but another bit of meat, with another sauce to him ; Another Office, and another way of Extortion, is but another garment, and another lace to him. But he is too full to receive any thing else ; Christ comes to this Bethlem, (Bethlem which is Domus pants) this house of abundance, and there is no roome for Christ in this Inne ; there are no crums for Christ under this table ; There comes Boanerges, {Boanerges, that is, Jilius Tonitruty the Sonne of Thunder) and he thunders out the Vce''Sy the Comminations, the Judgements of God upon such as hee ; but if the Thunder spoile not his drink, he sees no harme in Thunder ; As long as a Sermon is not a Sentence in the Starre-chamber, that a Sermon cannot fine and imprison him, hee hath no room for any good effect of a Sermon. The Holy Ghost, the Spirit of Comfort comes to him, and offers him the consolation of the Gospel ; but hee will die in his old religion, which is to sacrifice to his owne Nets, by which his

1 84 Co vetousness .

portion is plenteous ; he had rather have the God of the Old Testament, that payes in this world with milke and honey, then the God of the New Testament, that cals him into his Vineyard in this World, and payes him no wages till the next : one lupiter is worth all the three Elohims, or the three lehovahs (if we may speake so) to him. lupiter that can come in a showre of gold, out- waighs lehova, that comes but in a showre of water, but in a sprinkling of water in Baptisme, and sels that water so deare, as that he will have showres of teares for it, nay showres of blood for it, when any Persecutor hath a mind to call for it. The voyce of God whom he hath contemned, and wounded. The voyce of the Preacher whom he hath derided, and impoverished. The voyce of the poore, of the Widow, of the Orphans, of the prisoner, whom he hath oppressed, knocke at his doore, and would enter, but there is no roome for them, he is so full. This is the great danger indeed that accompanies this fulnesse, but the danger that affects him more is that which is more literally in the text, Evomet, he shall be so filled as that he shall vomit ; even that fulnesse, those temporall things which he had, he shall cast up.

114. Blasphemy,

BLASPHEMY, as it is a contumelious speech, dero- gating from any man, that good that is in him, or attributing to any man, that ill that is not in him, may be fastned upon any man. For the most part it is understood a sin against God, and that directly ; and here, by the manner of Christ expressing himselfe, it is made the greatest sin ; All sin, even blasphemy. And yet,

Blasphemy. 185

a drunkard that cannot name God, will spue out a blas- phemy against God : A child that cannot spell God, will stammer out a blasphemy against God : If we smart, we blaspheme God, and we blaspheme him if we be tickled ; If I lose at play, I blaspheme, and if my fellow lose, he blasphemes, so that God is alwayes sure to be a loser. An Usurer can shew me his bags, and an Extortioner his houses, the fruits, the revenues of his sinne ; but where will the blasphemer shew mee his blasphemy, or what hee hath got by it ? The licentious man hath had his love in his armes, and the envious man hath had his enemy in the dust, but wherein hath the blasphemer hurt God ?

In the Schoole we put it for the consummation of Aquin.22a; the torment of the damned, that at the Resurrection, '^•^^•^^'^' they shall have bodies, and so be able, even verbally, to blaspheme God ; herein we exceed the Devill already, that we can speake blasphemously. There is a rebellious part of the body, that J dam covered with figge leaves, that hath damned many a wretched soule ; but yet, I thinke, not more then the tongue ; And therefore the whole torment that Dives suffered in hell, is expressed in that part. Father Abraham, have mercy upon me, and Lukei6.24. send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and coole my tongue. The Jews that crucified God, will not sound the name of God, and we for whom he was Crucified, belch him out in our surfets, and foame him out in our fury : An Impertinent sin, wdthout occasion before, and an unprofitable sin, without recompence after, and an incorrigible sin too ; for, almost what Father dares chide his son for blasphemy, that may not

F

1 86 Blasphemy.

tell him, Sir I learnt it of you ? or what Master his servant, that cannot lay the same recrimination upon

him ?

115. The Burden of Sin.

'OR mine iniquities are gone over my head, as a heavy

Burden, they are too heavy for me. — Ps. xxxviii. 4

A second inconvenience intimated in this Metaphore, Fatigat. a burden^ is the fatigat, a burden wearies us, tires us : and so does our sinne, and our best beloved sinne. It hath wearied us, and yet we cannot devest it. We would leave that sin, and yet there is one talent more to be added, one childe more to be provided for, one office, or one title more to be compassed, one tentation more to be satisfied. Though we grumble, not out of remorse of conscience, but out of a bodily wearinesse of the sinne, yet wee proceed in it. How often men goe to Westminster, how often to the Exchange, called by unjust suits, or called by corrupt bargaines to those places, when their ease, or their health perswades them to stay at home ? How many go to forbidden beds, then when they had rather stay at home, if they were not afraid of an unkind inter- pretation ? We have wearied our selves in the ways oj wickednesse ; Plus miles in uno torneamento, qudm sanctus Monachus in decern annis, says our Holkot, upon that place, a soldier suffers more in one expedition, then a Monk does, in ten years, says he ; and perchance he says true, and yet no commendation to his Monke neither ; for that soldier may doe even the cause of God, more good, in that one expedition, then that Monke in ten years : But it is true as Holkot intended it, (though perchance his example doe not much strengthen it)

The Burden of Sin. 187

vicious men are put to more pains, and to doe more

things against their own mindes, then the Saints of God

are in the ways of holinesse. We have wearied our selves

in the ways of wickednesse, says he, that is, in doing as

other wicked men have done, in ways which have been

beaten out to us, by the frequent practise of other men ;

but he addes more, We have gone thorough Deserts, where

there lay no way ; that is, through sins, in which, wee had

no example, no precedent, the inventions of our hearts.

The covetous man lies still, and attends his quarter days,

and studies the endorsements of his bonds, and he

wonders that the ambitious man can endure the shufflings

and thrustings of Courts, and can measure his happinesse

by the smile of a greater man : And, he that does so,

wonders as much, that this covetous man can date his

happinesse by an Almanack, and such revolutions, and

though he have quick returns of receipt, yet scarce affords

himself bread to live till that day come, and though all

his joy be in his bonds, yet denies himself a candles end

to look upon them. Hilly ways are wearisome ways,

and tire the ambitious man ; Carnall pleasures are dirty

ways, and tire the licentious man ; Desires of gain, are

thorny ways, and tire the covetous man ; Emulations

of higher men, are dark and blinde ways, and tire the

envious man ; Every way, that is out of the way, wearies

us ; But, lassati sumus ; sed lassis non datur requies ; we Lam. 5. 5.

labour, and have no rest, when we have done ; we are

wearied with our sins, and have no satisfaction in them ;

we goe to bed to night, weary of our sinful! labours,

and we will rise freshly to morrow, to the same sinfull

labours again ; And when a sinner does so little remember

1 88 The Burden of Sin.

yesterday^ how little does he consider to morrow ? He that forgets what he hath done, foresees not what he shall suffer : so sin is a burden ; it crookens us, it wearies us ; And those are the two first inconveniences.

1 1 6. The dinner,

IT is thy pleasure O God, and thy pleasure shall be infallibly accomplished, that every wicked person should be his owne Executioner. He is Spontaneus Dcemon, as S. Chrysostome speaks, an In-mate, an in-nate Devill ; a bosome devill, a selfe-Devill ; That as he could be a tempter to himselfe, though there were no Devill, so he could be an Executioner to himselfe, though there were no Satan, and a Hell to himselfe, though there were no other Torment. Sometimes he stales not the Assises, but prevents the hand of Justice ; he destroies himselfe before his time. But when he stales, he is evermore condemned at the Assises. Let him sleepe out as much of the morning as securely as he can ; embellish, and adorne himselfe as gloriously as he can ; dine as largely and as delicately as he can ; weare out as much of the afternoone, in conversation, in Comedies, in pleasure, as hee can ; sup with as much distension, and inducement of drousinesse as he can, that he may scape all remorse, by falling asleepe quickly, and fall asleepe with as much discourse, and musicke, and advantage as he can, he hath a conscience that will survive, and overwatch all the company ; he hath a sorrow that shall joyns issue with him when he is alone, and both God, and the devill, who doe not meet wilHngly, shall meet in his case, and be in league, and be on the sorrowes side, against him. The

The Sinner. 189

anger of God, and the malice of the devill, shall concurre with his sorrow, to his farther vexation. No one wicked person, by any diversion or cunning, shall avoid this sorrow, for it is in the midst, and in the end of all his forced contentments ; Even in laughing, the heart is Prov. 14. sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is heavinesse. ^^'

ny- The Sorrows of the Wicked.

AND if we consider farther, the manifold Topiques,

XjL and places, from which the sorrowes of the wicked

arise, That every inch of their ground is overgrown with

that venomous weed, that every place, and every part

of time, and every person buddes out a particular occasion

of sorrow to him, that he can come into no chamber,

but he remembers. In such a place as this, I sinned thus,

That he cannot heare a Clock strike, but he remembers.

At this hour I sinned thus. That he cannot converse

with few persons, but he remembers. With such a person

I sinned thus. And if he dare goe no farther then to

himselfe, he can look scarcely upon any limb of his body,

but in that he sees some infirmity, or some deformity,

that he imputes to some sin, and must say. By this sin,

this is thus : When he can open the Bible in no place,

but if he meet a judgement, he must say, Vindicta mihi.

This vengeance belongs to me, and if he meet a mercy,

he must say. Quid mihi ? What have I to doe to take

this mercy into my mouth ? In this deluge of occasions

of sorrow, I must not say with God to Abraham, Look

up to heaven, and number the Starres, (for this man

cannot look up to heaven) but I must say, Continue thy

dejected look, and look downe to the earth, thy earth.

190 The Sorrows of the Wicked.

and number the graines of dust there, and the sorrowes of the wicked are more then they.

1 1 8. The Sins of Memory.

A HOUSE is not clean, though all the Dust be swept . together, if it lie still in a corner, within Dores ; A Conscience is not clean, by having recollected all her sinnes in the Memory, for they may fester there, and Gangreen even to Desperation, till she have emptied them in the bottomlesse Sea of the bloud of Christ Jesus : and the mercy of his Father, by this way of Confession. But a house is not clean neither, though the Dust be thrown out, if there hang Cobwebs about the Walls, in how dark corners soever. A Conscience is not clean, though the sins, brought to our memory by this Examination, be cast upon Gods mercy, and the merits of his Sonne, by Confession, if there remaine in me, but a Cobweb, a little, but a sinfull delight in the Memory of those sins, which I had formerly committed. How many men sinne over the sinnes of their youth again, in their age, by a sinfull Delight in remembring those sinnes, and a sinfull Desire, that their Bodies were not past them ? How many men sin over some sins, but imaginarily, (and yet Damnably) a hundred times, which they never sinned actually at all, by filling their Imaginations, with such thoughts as these, How would I be revenged of such an Enemy, if I were in such a place of Authority ? How easily could I overthrow such a wastfuU young Man, and com- passe his Land, if I had but Money, to feed his humours ? Those sinnes which we have never been able to doe actually, to the harme of others, we doe as hurtfuUy to

The Sins of Memory. 191

our owne Souls, by a sinfull Desire of them, and a sinfull Delight in them.

119. fhe Eye of God. /'~^0D cannot be mocked, saith the Apostle, nor God ^^ cannot be blinded. He seeth all the way, and at thy last gaspe, he will make thee see too, through the multipljdng Glasse, the Spectacle of Desperation. Canst thou hope that that God, that seeth this darke Earth through all the vaults and arches of the severall spheares of Heaven, that seeth thy body through all thy stone walls, and seeth thy soul through that which is darker then all those, thy corrupt flesh, canst thou hope that that God can be blinded vdth drawing a curtain between thy sinne and him ? when he is all eye, canst thou hope to put out that eye, with putting out a candle ? when he hath planted legions of Angels about thee, canst thou hope that thou hast taken away all Intelligence, if thou have corrupted, or silenced, or sent away a servant ? O bestow as much labour, as thou hast done, to finde corners for sin, to finde out those sinnes, in those corners where thou hast hid them. As Princes give pardons by their own hands, but send Judges to execute Justice, come to him for mercy in the acknowledgement of thy sinnes, and stay not till his Justice come to thee, when he makes inquisition for blood ; and doe not think, that if thou feel now at this present, a little tendernesse in thy heart, a little melting in thy bowels, a little dew in thine eyes, that if thou beest come to know, that thou art a sinner, thou dost therefore presently know thy sinnes. Thou wouldst have so much tendcrnes, so much

192 The Eye of God.

compassion, if thou knewest that he that sits next thee, were in this danger of Gods heavy indignation ; thou wouldst commiserate thy neighbours wretched condition so much. But proceed with thy self further, bring this dawning and breake of day to a full light, and this Httle sparke to a perfect acknowledgement of thy sinnes. Go home, with this spark of Gods Spirit in you, and there looke upon your Renialls, and know your oppressions, and extorsions ; looke upon your shop-bookes, and know your deceits and falsifications ; looke upon your ward- robes^ and know your excesses ; looke upon your childrens faces, and know your fornications. Till then, till you come to this scrutiny, this survey, this sifting of the Conscience, if we should cry peace, peace, yet there were no peace.

1 20. The World Drowned in Sin.

WHEN the Holy Ghost hath brought us into the Ark from whence we may see all the world without, sprawling and gasping in the flood, (the flood of sinfull courses in the world, and of the anger of God) when we can see this violent flood, (the anger of God) break in at windowes, and there devoure the licentious man in his sinfull embracements, and make his bed of wanton- nesse his death-bed ; when we can see this flood (the anger of God) swell as fast as the ambitious man swels, and pursue him through all his titles, and at last suddenly, and violently wash him away in his owne blood, not alwayes in a vulgar, but sometimes in an ignominious death ; when we shall see this flood (the flood of the anger of God) over-flow the valley of the

The World Drowned in Sin. 193

voluptuous mans gardens, and orchards, and follow him into his Arbours, and Mounts, and Terasses, and carry him from thence into a bottomlesse Sea, which no Plummet can sound, (no heavy sadnesse relieve him) no anchor take hold of, (no repentance stay his tempested and weather-beaten conscience) when wee finde our selves in this Ark, where we have first taken in the fresh water of Baptisme, and then the Bread, and Wine, and Flesh, of the Body and Blood of Christ Jesus, Then are we reproved, forbidden all scruple, then are we convinced. That as the twelve Apostles shall sit upon twelve seats^ and judge the twelve Tribes at the last day ; So doth the Holy Ghost make us Judges of all the world now, and inables us to pronounce that sentence, That all but they, who have sincerely accepted the Christian Religion, are still suh peccato^ under sin, and without remedy.

121. The Hand of God.

THE hand of God shall grow heavy upon a silent sinner, in his body, in his health ; and if he con- ceive a comfort, that for all his sicknesse, he is rich, and therefore cannot fayle of helpe and attendance, there comes another worme, and devours that, faithlesnesse in persons trusted by him, oppressions in persons that have trusted him, facility in undertaking for others, corrupt Judges, heavy adversaries, tempests and Pirats at Sea, unseasonable or ill Markets at land, costly and expensive ambitions at Court, one worme or other shall devoure his riches, that he eased himselfe upon. If he take up another Comfort, that though health and wealth decay, though he be poore and wcake, yet he hath learning, 2025-3 o

194 The Hand of God.

and philosophy, and morall constancy, and he can content himselfe with himselfe, he can make his study a Court, and a few Books shall supply to him the society and the conversation of many friends, there is another worme to devoure this too, the hand of divine Justice shall grow- heavy upon him, in a sense of an unprofitable retirednesse, in a disconsolate melancholy, and at last, in a stupidity, tending to desperation.

122. The Sick Soul.

HE shall suspect his Religion, suspect his Repentance, suspect the Comforts of the Minister, suspect the efficacy of the Sacrament, suspect the mercy of God himselfe. Every fit of an Ague is an Earth-quake that swallows him, every fainting of the knee, is a step to Hell ; every lying down at night is a funerall ; & every quaking is a rising to judgment ; every bell that distinguishes times, is a passing-bell, and every passing-bell, his own ; every singing in the ear, is an Angels Trumpet ; at every dimnesse of the candle, he heares that voice, Fool, this night they will fetch away thy soul', and in every judge- ment denounced against sin, he hears an Ito maledicte upon himselfe, Goe thou accursed into helljire.

123. Sleep. Ephes. 4. if HE Sun must not set upon my anger ; much lesse will -^ I let the Sun set upon the anger of God towards me, or sleep in an unrepented sin. Every nights sleep is a Nunc dimittis ; then the Lord lets his servant depart in peace. Thy lying down is a valediction, a parting, a taking leave, (shall I say so ?) a shaking hands with God ; and,

24

Sleep. 195

when thou shakest hands with God, let those hands be clean. Enter into thy grave, thy metaphoricall, thy quotidian grave, thy bed, as thou entredst into the Church at first, by Water, by Baptisme ; Re-baptise thy self every night, in lobs Snow water. . . . Sleep with cleane hands, either kept cleane all day, by integrity ; or washed cleane, at night, by repentance ; and whensoever thou wakest, though all lobs messengers thunder about thee, and all lobs friends multiply mis-interpretations against thee, yet lobs protestation shall be thy pro- testation, what end soever God have in this proceeding, It is not for any injustice in my hands, and the other part of his protestation too, Also my prayer is pure.

124. The Gate of Death. AS he that travails weary, and late towards a great XjL City, is glad when he comes to a place of execu- tion, becaus he knows that is neer the town ; so when thou comest to the gate of death, glad of that, for it is but one step from that to thy Jerusalem. Christ hath brought us in some neerness to Salvation, as he is vere Salvator mundi, in that we know, that this is indeed the Jo. 4. 42. Christy the Saviour of the world : and he hath brought it neerer than that, as he is Salvator corporis sui, in that Eph. 5. 23. we know. That Christ is the head of the Church, and the Saviour of that body: And neerer than that, as he is Esay.43.3. Salvator tuus sanctus. In that we know. He is the Lord our God, the holy One of Israel, our Saviour : But neerest of all, in the Ecce Salvator tuus venit. Behold thy Salvation Esa. 62. 11, commeth. It is not only promised in the Prophets, nor

o 2

196 The Gate of Death.

only writ in the Gospel, nor only seal'd in the Sacraments, nor only prepared in the visitations of the holy Ghost, but, Ecce, behold it, now, when thou canst behold nothing else : The sun is setting to thee, and that for ever ; thy houses and furnitures, thy gardens and orchards, thy titles and offices, thy wife and children are departing from thee, and that for ever ; a cloud of faintnesse is come over thine eyes, and a cloud of sorrow over all theirs ; when his hand that loves thee best hangs tremblingly over thee to close thine eyes, Ecce Salvator tuus venit, behold then a new light, thy Saviours hand shall open thine eyes, and in his light thou shalt see light ; and thus shalt see, that though in the eyes of men thou lye upon that bed, as a Statue on a Tomb, yet in the eyes of God, thou standest as a Colossus, one foot in one, another in another land ; one foot in the grave, but the other in heaven ; one hand in the womb of the earth, and the other in Abrahams bosome : And then vere prope. Salvation is truly neer thee, and neerer than when thou believedst, which is our last word.

125. Our Prison.

WE are all conceived in close Prison ; in our Mothers wombes, we are close Prisoners all ; when we are borne, we are borne but to the liberty of the house ; Prisoners still, though within larger walls ; and then all our life is but a going out to the place of Execu- tion, to death. Now was there ever any man seen to sleep in the Cart, between New-gate, and Tyborne ? between the Prison, and the place of Execution, does any man sleep ? And we sleep all the way ; from the

Our Prison. 197

womb to the grave we are never throughly awake ; but passe on with such dreames, and imaginations as these, I may live as well, as another, and why should I dye, rather then another ? but awake, and tell me, sayes this Text, Quis homo ? who is that other that thou talkest of ? What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death ?

126. All must Die.

DOTH not man die even in his birth ? The breaking of prison is death, and what is our birth, but a break- ing of prison ? Assoon as we were clothed by God, our very apparell was an Embleme of death. In the skins of dead beasts, he covered the skins of dying men. Assoon as God set us on work, our very occupation was an Embleme of death ; It was to digge the earth ; not to digge pitfals for other men, but graves for our selves. Hath any man here forgot to day, that yesterday is dead ? And the Bell tolls for to day, and will ring out anon ; and for as much of every one of us, as appertaines to this day. Quotidie morimur, y tamen nos esse ceternos putamus, sayes S. Hierome ; We die every day, and we die all the day long; and because we are not absolutely dead, we call that an eternity, an eternity of dying : And is there comfort in that state ? why, that is the state of hell it self, Eternall dying, and not dead.

But for this there is enough said, by the Morall man ; (that we may respite divine proofes, for divine points anon, for our severall Resurrections) for this death is meerly naturall, and it is enough that the morall man sayes, Mors lex, tributum, officiiim mortaliu?n. First it is lex, you Seneca.

198 All must Die.

were born under that law, upon that condition to die : so it is a rebelhous thing not to be content to die, it opposes the Law. Then it is Tributuviy an imposition which nature the Queen of this world layes upon us, and which she will take, when and where she list ; here a yong man, there an old man, here a happy, there a miserable man ; And so it is a seditious thing not to be content to die, it opposes the prerogative. And lastly, it is Officimn^ men are to have their turnes, to take their time, and then to give way by death to successors ; and so it is Inciviley inqfficiosiim, not to be content to die, it opposes the frame and form of government. It comes equally to us all, and makes us all equall when it comes. The ashes of an Oak in the Chimney, are no Epitaph of that Oak, to tell me how high or how large that was ; It tels me not what flocks it sheltered while it stood, nor what men it hurt when it fell. The dust of great persons graves is speechlesse too, it sayes nothing, it distinguishes nothing : As soon the dust of a wretch whom thou wouldest not, as of a Prince whom thou couldest not look upon, will trouble thine eyes, if the winde blow it thither ; and when a whirle-winde hath blowne the dust of the Church-yard into the Church, and the man sweeps out the dust of the Church into the Church-yard, who will undertake to sift those dusts again, and to pronounce. This is the Patrician, this is the noble flowre, and this the yeomanly, this the Plebeian bran. . . .

Novissi- Death is the last, and in that respect the worst enemy.

mushostis. jj^ ^^ enemy, that appeares at first, when we are or may be provided against him, there is some of that, which

All must Die. I99

we call Honour : but in the enemie that reserves himselfe unto the last, and attends our weake estate, there is more danger. Keepe it, where I intend it, in that which is my spheare, the Conscience : If mine enemie meet me betimes in my youth, in an object of tentation, (so Josephs enemie met him in Putifars Wife) yet if I doe not adhere to this enemy, dwell upon a delightfuli meditation of that sin, if I doe not fuell, and foment that sin, assist and encourage that sin, by high diet, wanton discourse, other provocation, I shall have reason on my side, and I shall have grace on my side, and I shall have the History of a thousand that have perished by that sin, on my side ; Even Spittles will give me souldiers to fight for me, by their miserable example against that sin ; nay perchance sometimes the vertue of that woman, whom I solHcite, will assist me. But when I lye under the hands of that enemie, that hath reserved himselfe to the last, to my last bed, then when I shall be able to stir np limbe in any other measure then a Feaver or a Palsie shall shake them, when everlasting darknesse shall have an inchoation in the present dimnesse of mine eyes, and the everlasting gnashing in the present chatter- ing of my teeth, and the everlasting worme in the present gnawing of the Agonies of my body, and anguishes of my minde, when the last enemie shall watch my remedi- lesse body, and my disconsolate soule there, there, where not the Physitian, in his way, perchance not the Priest in his, shall be able to give any assistance. And when he hath sported himselfe with my misery upon that stage, my death-bed, shall shift the Scene, and throw me from that bed, into the grave, and there triumph over me,

200 All must Die.

God knowes, how many generations, till the Redeemer, my Redeemer, the Redeemer of all me, body, as well as soule, come againe ; As death is Novissimus hostis, the enemy which watches me, at my last weaknesse, and shall hold me, when I shall be no more, till that Angel come, Who shall say, and sweare that time shall he no more, in that consideration, in that apprehension, he is the powerfullest, the fearefulest enemy ; and yet even there this enemy Aholehitur, he shall be destroyed.

127. Death Inevitahle,

/fDAM might have liv'd, if he would, but I cannot. '^yj' God hath placed an Ecce, a marke of my death, upon every thing hving, that I can set mine eye upon ; every thing is a remembrancer, every thing is a Judge upon me, and pronounces, I must dye. The whole frame of

Eeh. 9, 27. the world is mortall, Heaven and Earth passe away : and upon us all, there is an irrecoverable Decree past, statutum est. It is appointed to all men, that they shall once dye. But when ? quickly ; If thou looke up into the aire,

Job 7. 7. remember that thy life is hut a winde. If thou see a cloud in the aire, aske St. James his question, what is your

lam. 4. 14. life ? and give St. James his answer. It is a vapour that appeareth and vanisheth away. If thou behold a Tree, then Job gives thee a comparison of thy selfe ; A Tree is an embleme of thy selfe ; nay a Tree is the originall, thou art but the copy, thou art not so good as it : for,

lob 14. 7 There is hope of a tree (as you reade there) if the roote wax old, if the stock be dead, if it be cut down, yet by the sent of the waters, it will bud, but man is sick, and dyeth, and

Death Inevitable. 201

where is he ? he shall not wake againe, till heaven be no more. Looke upon the water, and we are as that, and as that spilt upon the ground : Looke to the earth, and we are not like that, but we are earth it self : At our Tables we feed upon the dead, and in that Temple we tread upon the dead : and when we meet in a Church, God hath made many echoes, many testimonies of our death, in the walls, and in the windowes, and he onely knowes, whether he will not make another testimony of our mortality, of the youngest amongst us, before we part, and make the very place of our huriall, our deathbed.

128. The Expectation of Death.

NOW the general condemnation, which is upon all mankind, that they must dye, this alone scarce frights any man, scarce averts any man from his purposes. He that should first put to Sea in a tempest, he might easily think, it were in the nature of the Sea to be rough always. He that sees every Church-yard swell with the waves and billows of graves, can think it no extraordinary thing to dye ; when he knows he set out in a storm, and he was born into the world upon that condition, to go out of it again.

129. The Death-bed.

77'T infnem, he loved them to the end. It is much -'—^that he should love them infne, at their end ; that he should look graciously at last ; that when their sunne sets, their eyes faint, his sunne of grace should arise, and his East should be brought to their West ; that then, in the shadow of death, the Lord of life should quicken

203 The Death-bed.

and inanimate their hearts ; that when their last bell tolls, and calls them to their first and last judgement, which to this purpose is all one ; for the passing bell and the Angels trump sound all but one note : Surgite qui dormitis in pulvere. Arise ye that sleep in the dust, which is the voice of the Angels ; and, Surgite qui vigilatis in plumis, Arise ye that cannot sleep in feathers, for the pangs of death, which is the voice of the bell, is in effect but one voice : for God at the generall judge- ment, shall never reverse any particular judgement, formerly given : that God should then come to thy bed side Ad sibilandum populum suuni, as the Prophet Ezechiel saith, to hisse softly for his childe, to speak comfortably in his eare, to whisper gently to his departing soul, and to drown and overcome with this soft musick of his all the clangour of the Angels trumpets, all the horrour of the ringing bell, all the cries, and vociferations of a distressed, and distracted, and scattering family ; yea all the accusations of his own conscience, and all the triumphant acclamations of the devil himself : that God should love a man thus in fine, at his end, and return to him then, though he had suffered him to go astray before, is a great testimonie of an inexpressible love. Butt this love is not in fine, in the end ; but infinem, to the end.

130. The Death of Ecstasy.

Prov, 18. CT~\EATH and life are in the power of the tongue, sayes

-^—^ Solomon, in another sense ; and in this sense too, If

my tongue, suggested by my heart, and by my heart

rooted in faith, can say, Non moriar, non moriar ; If

The Death of Ecstasy. 203

I can say, (and my conscience doe not tell me, that I belye mine owne state) if I can say, That the blood of my Saviour runs in my veines. That the breath of his Spirit quickens all my purposes, that all my deaths have their Resurrection, all my sins their remorses, all my rebellions their reconciliations, I will harken no more after this question, as it is intended de morte naturali, of a naturali death, I know I must die that death, what care I ? nor de morte spiritually the death of sin, I know I doe, and shall die so ; why despaire I ? but I will finde out another death, mortem raptus, a death of rapture, and 2 Cor. 12. of extasie, that death which S. Paul died more then once. Acts 9. The death which S. Gregory speaks of, Divina contem- Greg. platio quoddam sepulchrum animce^ The contemplation of God, and heaven, is a kinde of buriall, and Sepulchre, and rest of the soule ; and in this death of rapture, and extasie, in this death of the Contemplation of my interest in my Saviour, I shall finde my self, and all my sins enterred, and entombed in his wounds, and like a Lily in Paradise, out of red earth, I shall see my soule rise out of his blade, in a candor, and in an innocence, con- tracted there, acceptable in the sight of his Father.

131. The Dead with Us.

IITTLE know we, how little a way a soule hath to -i goe to heaven, when it departs from the body ; Whether it must passe locally, through Moone, and Sun, and Firmament, (and if all that must be done, all that may be done, in lesse time then I have proposed the doubt in) or whether that soule finde new light in the same roome, and be not carried into any other, but that

204 The Dead with Us.

the glory of heaven be diffused over all, I know not, I dispute not, I inquire not. Without disputing, or inquiring, I know, that when Christ sayes. That God is not the God of the dead, he saies that to assure me, that those whom I call dead, are alive. And when the Apostle

Heb. 11.16. tels me, That God is not ashamed to be called the God of the dead, he tels me that to assure me, That Gods servants lose nothing by dying.

Menander. He was but a Heathen that said, If God love a man, luvenis tollitur. He takes liim young out of this world ; And they were but Heathens, that observed that custome, To put on mourning when their sons were born, and to feast and triumph when they dyed. But thus much we may learne from these Heathens, That if the dead, and we, be not upon one floore, nor under one story, yet we are under one roofe. We think not a friend lost, because he is gone into another roome, nor because he is gone into another Land ; And into another world, no man is gone ; for that Heaven, which God created, and this world, is all one world. If I had fixt a Son in Court, or married a daughter into a plentifull Fortune, I were satisfied for that son and that daughter. Shall I not be so, when the King of Heaven hath taken that son to himselfe, and maried himselfe to that daughter, for ever ? I spend none of my Faith, I exercise none of my Hope, in this, that I shall have my dead raised to life againe.

This is the faith that sustaines me, when I lose by the death of others, or when I suffer by living in misery my selfe. That the dead, and we, are now all in one Church, and at the resurrection, shall be all in one Quire.

Mourning. 205

132. Mournifig.

HERE, in this world, we who stay, lack those who are gone out of it : we know they shall never come to us ; and when we shall go to them, whether we shall know them or no, we dispute. They who think that it conduces to the perfection of happinesse in heaven, that we should know one another, think piously if they think we shall. For, as for the maintenance of publique peace. States, and Churches, may think diversly in points of Religion, that are not fundamentall, and yet both be true and Orthodoxall Churches ; so for the exaltation of private devotion in points that are not fundamentall, divers men may think diversly, and both be equally good Christians. Whether we shall know them there, or no, is problematical! and equall ; that we shall not till then, is dogmatical! and certain : Therefore we weep. I know there are Philosophers that will not let us weep, nor lament the death of any : And I know that in the Scriptures there are rules, and that there are instructions convayed in that example, that David left mourning as soon as the childe was dead ; And I know that there are Authors of a middle nature, above the Philosophers, and below the Scriptures, the Apocryphal! books, and I know it is said there. Comfort thy selfe, for thou shalt do him no good that is dead, Et te ipsum pessimabis (as the vulgat Ecclus. 38. reads it) thou shalt make thy self worse and worse, in the worst degree. But yet all this is but of inordinate lamentation ; for in the same place, the same Wise man sayes, My Son, let thy tears fall down over the dead ; weep bitterly and make great moane, as he is worthy.

2o6 Mourning.

When our Saviour Christ had uttered his consummatii'tn est, all was finished, and their rage could do him no more harm, when he had uttered his In manus tuas, he had delivered and God had received his soul, yet how did the whole frame of nature mourn in Eclipses, and tremble in earth-quakes, and dissolve and shed in pieces in the opening of the Temple, Quia mortuus, because he was dead.

Truly, to see the hand of a great and mighty Monarch, that hand that hath governed the civill sword, the sword of Justice at home, and drawn and sheathed the forraigne sword, the sword of war abroad, to see that hand lie dead, and not be able to nip or fillip away one of his own wormes (and then Quis homo, what man, though he be one of those men, of whom God hath said, Te are gods, yet Quis homo, what man is there that lives, and shall not see death V) To see the brain of a great and religious Counsellor (and God blesse all from making, all from calling any great that is not religious) to see that brain that produced means to becalme gusts at Councell tables, stormes in Parliaments, tempests in popular commotions, to see that brain produce nothing but swarmes of wormes and no Proclamation to disperse them ; To see a reverend Prelate that hath resisted Heretiques & Schismatiques all his life, fall like one of them by death, & perchance be called one of them when he is dead. To re-collect all, to see great men made no men, to be sure that they shall never come to us, not to be sure, that we shall know them when we come to them, to see the Lieutenants and Images of God, Kings, the sinews of the State, religious Counsellors, the spirit

Mourning. 207

of the Church, zealous Prelates, And then to see vulgar, ignorant, wicked, and facinorous men thrown all by one hand of death, into one Cart, into one common Tide- boate, one Hospitall, one Almeshouse, one Prison, the grave, in whose dust no man can say. This is the King, this is the Slave, this is the Bishop, this is the Heretique, this is the Counsellor, this is the Foole, even this miserable equality of so unequall persons, by so foule a hand, is the subject of this lamentation, even Quia mortuus, because Lazarus was dead, lesus wept.

133. A Quiet Grave.

HOW low soever God be pleased to cast you. Though it be to the earth, yet he does not so much cast you downe, in doing that, as bring you home. Death is not a banishing of you out of this world ; but it is a visitation of your kindred that lie in the earth ; neither are any nearer of kin to you, then the earth it selfe, and the wormes of the earth. You heap earth upon your soules, and encumber them with more and more flesh, by a super- fluous and luxuriant diet ; You adde earth to earth in new purchases, and measure not by Acres, but by Manors, nor by Manors, but by Shires ; And there is a little Quillet, a little Close, worth all these, A quiet Grave. And therefore, when thou readest, That God makes thy bed in thy sicknesse, rejoyce in this, not onely that he makes that bed, where thou dost He, but that bed where thou shalt He ; That that God, that made the whole earth, is new making thy bed in the earth, a quiet grave, where thou shalt sleep in peace, till the Angels Trumpet wake thee at the Resurrection, to that Judgement where thy

2o8 A Quiet Grave.

peace shall be made before thou commest, and writ, and sealed, in the blood of the Lamb.

w;

134. Eternal Damnation. "HEN we shall have given to those words, by which hell is expressed in the Scriptures, the heaviest significations, that either the nature of those words can admit, or as they are types and representations of hell, as fire, and brimstone, & weeping, and gnashing, and darknesse, and the zoorme, and as they are laid together

Esay3o.33. in the Prophet, Tophet, (that is, hell) is deepe and large, (there is the capacity & content, roome enough) It is a pile of fire and much wood, (there is the durablenesse of it) and the breath of the Lord to kindle it, like a streame of Brimstone, (there is the vehemence of it :) when all is done, the hell of hels, the torment of torments is the everlasting absence of God, and the everlasting impossi- biUty of returning to his presence ; Horrendum est, sayes

Heb. 10.31. the Apostle, It is a fearefull thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Yet there was a case, in which David found an ease, to fall into the hands of God, to scape the hands of men : Horrendum est, when Gods hand is bent to strike, it is a fearefull thing, to fall into the hands of the living God ; but to fall out of the hands of the living God, is a horror beyond our expression, beyond our imagination.

That God should let my soule fall out of his hand, into a bottomlesse pit, and roll an unremoveable stone upon it, and leave it to that which it finds there, (and it shall finde that there, which it never imagined, till it came thither) and never thinke more of that soule, never have

Eternal Damnation. 209

more to doe with it. That of that providence of God, that studies the hfe of every vv^eed, and worme, and ant, and spider, and toad, and viper, there should never, never any beame flow out upon me ; that that God, who looked upon me, when I was nothing, and called me when I was not, as though I had been, out of the womb and depth of darknesse, will not looke upon me now, when, though a miserable, and a banished, and a damned creature, yet I am his creature still, and contribute something to his glory, even in my damnation ; that that God, who hath often looked upon me in my foulest uncleannesse, and when I had shut out the eye of the day, the Sunne, and the eye of the night, the Taper, and the eyes of all the world, with curtaines and windowes and doores, did yet see me, and see me in mercy, by making me see that he saw me, and sometimes brought me to a present remorse, and (for that time) to a forbearing of that sinne, should so turne himselfe from mCj to his glorious Saints and Angels, as that no Saint nor Angel, nor Christ Jesus himselfe, should ever pray him to looke towards me, never remember him, that such a soule there is ; that that God, who hath so often said to my soule, Quare morieris ? Why wilt thou die ? and so often sworne to my soule, Vivit Dominus, As the Lord liveth, I would not have thee dye, but live, will nether let me dye, nor let me live, but dye an everlasting life, and live an everlasting death ; that that God, who, when he could not get into me, by standing, and knocking, by his ordinary meanes of entring, by his Word, his mercies, hath applied his judgements, and hath shaked the house, this body, with agues and palsies, and set this house on

210 Eternal Damnation.

fire, with fevers and calentures, and frighted the Master of the house, my soule, with horrors, and heavy appre- hensions, and so made an entrance into me ; That that God should frustrate all his owne purposes and practises upon me, and leave me, and cast me away, as though I had cost him nothing, that this God at last, should let this soule goe away, as a smoake, as a vapour, as a bubble, and that then this soule cannot be a smoake, a vapour, nor a bubble, but must lie in darknesse, as long as the Lord of light is light it selfe, and never sparke of that light reach to my soule ; What Tophet is not Paradise, what Brimstone is not Amber, what gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worme is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God ? Especially to us, for as the perpetuall losse of that is most heavy, with which we have been best acquainted, and to which wee have been most accustomed ; so shall this damnation, which consists in the losse of the sight and presence of God, be heavier to us then others, because God hath so graciously, and so evidently, and so diversly appeared to us, in his pillar of fire, in the light of pros- perity, and in the pillar of the Cloud, in hiding himselfe for a while from us ; we that have scene him in all the parts of this Commission, in his Word, in his Sacraments, and in good example, and not beleeved, shall be further removed from his sight, in the next world, then they to whom he never appeared in this. But Vincenti i^ credenti, to him that beleeves aright, and overcomes all tentations to a wrong behefe, God shall give the accomphshment of fulnesse, and fulnesse of joy, and joy

Eternal Damnation. 2ii

rooted in glory, and glory established in eternity, and this eternity is God ; To him that beleeves and overcomes, God shall give himselfe in an everlasting presence and fruition, Amen.

135. Death of the Good and the Bad Man.

TRULY, if the Death of the wicked ended in Death, yet to scape that manner of death were worthy a Religious life. To see the house fall, and yet be afraid to goe out of it ; To leave an injur'd world, and meet an incensed God ; To see oppression and wrong in all thy professions, and to foresee ruine and wastefulnesse in all thy Posterity ; and Lands gotten by one sin in the Father, molder away by another in the Sonne ; To see true figures of horror, and ly, and fancy worse ; To begin to see thy sins but then, and finde every sin (at first sight) in the proportion of a Gyant, able to crush thee into despair ; to see the Blood of Christ, imputed, not to thee, but to thy Sinnes ; to see Christ crucified, and not crucifyed for thee, but crucified by thee ; To heare this blood speake, not better things, then the blood of Abel, but lowder for vengeance then the blood of Abel did ; This is his picture that hath been Nothing, that hath done nothing, that hath proposed no Stephen, No Law to regulate. No example to certifie his Conscience: But to him that hath done this. Death is but a sleepe. . . .

Now of this dying Man, that dies in Christ, that dies the Death of the Righteous, that embraces Death as a Sleepe, must wee give you a Picture too.

There is not a minute left to do it ; not a minutes sand ; Is there a minutes patience ? Bee pleased to

p 2

212 Death of the Good

remember that those Pictures which are dehver'd in a minute, from a print upon a paper, had many dayes, weeks, Moneths time for the graving of those Pictures in the Copper ; So this Picture of that dying Man, that dies in Christ, that dies the death of the Righteous, that embraces Death as a Sleepe, was graving all his life ; All his publique actions were the lights, and all his private the shadowes of this Picture. And when this Picture comes to the Presse, this Man to the streights and agonies of Death, thus he lies, thus he looks, this he is. His understanding and his will is all one faculty ; He under- stands Gods purpose upon him, and he would not have God's purpose turned any other way ; hee sees God will dissolve him, and he would faine be dissolved, to be with Christ ; His understanding and his will is all one faculty ; His memory and his fore-sight are fixt, and concentred upon one object, upon goodnesse ; Hee remembers that hee hath proceeded in the sinceritie of a good Conscience in all the wayes of his calling, and he foresees that his good name shall have the Testimony, and his Posterity the support of the good men of this world ; His sickness shall be but a fomentation to supple and open his Body for the issuing of his Soule ; and his Soule shall goe forth, not as one that gave over his house, but as one that travelled to see and learne better Architecture, and meant to returne and re-edifie that house, according to those better Rules : And as those thoughts which possesse us most awake, meete us again when we are asleepe ; So his holy-thoughts, having been alwaies conversant upon the directing of his family, the education of his Children, the discharge of his place, the safety of

and the Bad Man. 213

the State, the happinesse of the King all his life ; when he is fain a sleepe in Death, all his Dreames in that blessed Sleepe, all his devotions in heaven shall be upon the same Subjects, and he shal solicite him that sits upon the Throne, & the Lamb, God for Christ Jesus sake, to blesse all these with his particular blessings : for so God giveth Ps. 127. 2. his beloved sleep, so as that they enjoy the next world and assist this.

136. 'The Northern Passage.

NO man kills his enemy therefore, that his enemy might have a better life in heaven ; that is not his end in killing him : It is Gods end ; Therefore he brings us to death, that by that gate he might lead us into life everlasting ; And he hath not discovered, but made that Northerne passage, to passe by the frozen Sea of calamity, and tribulation, to Paradise, to the heavenly Jerusalem.

137. The Resurrection,

THE dead heare not Thunder, nor feele they an In damore. Earth-quake. If the Canon batter that Church walls, in which they lye buryed, it wakes not them, nor does it shake or affect them, if that dust, which they are, be thrown out, but yet there is a voyce, which the dead shall heare ; The dead shall heare the voyce of the Son of lohn 5 25. God, (sayes the Son of God himself) and they that heare shall live ; And that is the voyce of our Text. It is here called a clamour, a vociferation, a shout, and varied by our Translators, and Expositors, according to the origination of the word, to be clamor hortatoriuSy and suasoriuSj and jussorius, A voyce that carries ^vith it

214 The Resurrection.

a penetration, (all shall heare it) and a perswasion, (all shall beleeve it, and be glad of it) and a power, a command, (all shall obey it.) Since that voyce at the Creation, Fiat, Let there be a world, was never heard such a voyce as this, Surgite mortui, Arise ye dead. That was spoken to that that was meerely nothing, and this to them, who in themselves shall have no cooperation, no concurrence to the hearing or answering this voyce.

138. The Awakening.

CXEMITERIA are Dormitoria, Churchyards are our beds. And in those beds, (and in all other beds of death) (for, the dead have their beds in the Sea too, and sleepe even in the restlesse motion thereof) the voyce of the Archangel, and the Trumpet of God shall awake them.

139. The Resurrection of the Body.

THERE are so many evidences of the immortality of the soule, even to a naturall mans reason, that it required not an Article of the Creed, to fix this notion of the Immortality of the soule. But the Resurrection of the Body is discernible by no other light, but that of Faith, nor could be fixed by any lesse assurance then an Article of the Creed. Where be all the splinters of that Bone, which a shot hath shivered and scattered in the Ayre ? Where be all the Atoms of that flesh, which a Corrasive hath eat away, or a Consumption hath breath'd, and exhal'd away from our arms, and other Limbs r In what wrinkle, in what furrow, in what bowel of the earth, ly all the graines of the ashes of a body burnt a thousand years since ? In what corner, in what

The Resurrection of the Body. 215

ventricle of the sea, lies all the jelly of a Body drowned

in the generall flood ? What coh^erence, what sympathy,

what dependence maintaines any relation, any corres-

spondence, between that arm that was lost in Europe,

and that legge that was lost in Afrique or Asia, scores of

yeers between ? One humour of our dead body produces

worms, and those worms suck and exhaust all other

humour, and then all dies, and all dries, and molders

into dust, and that dust is blowen into the River, &

that puddled water tumbled into the sea, and that ebs

and flows in infinite revolutions, and still, still God

knows in what Cabinet every seed-Pearle lies, in what

part of the world every graine of every mans dust lies ;

and, sibilat populum suum, (as his Prophet speaks in Zecli.io. S.

another case) he whispers, he hisses, he beckens for the

bodies of his Saints, and in the twinckling of an eye, that

body that was scattered over all the elements, is sate down

at the right hand of God, in a glorious resurrection.

T

140. The Last Day. HE grave it self shall be open againe ; and Aperti Mat.2-j.s2. caeli, The heavens shall be open, and I shall see the "^ ' '' ^ '

Sonne of man, the Sonne of God, and not see him at that distance, that Stefheti saw him there, but see him, and sit down with him. I shall rise from the dead, from the darke station, from the prostration, from the proster- nation of death, and never misse the sunne, which shall then be put out, for I shall see the Sonne of God, the Sunne of glory, and shine my self, as that sunne shines. I shall rise from the grave, and never misse this City, which shall be no where, for I shall see the City of God,

21 6 The Last Day.

the new Jerusalem. I shall looke up, and never wonder

when it will be day, for, the Angell will tell me that Apoc.io. 6. time shall be no more, and I shall see, and see cheerefuUy

that last day, the day of judgement, which shall have no Dan. -. g. night, never end, and be united to the Antient of dayes,

to God himselfe, who had no morning, never began.

n:

141. The Day oj Judgement. OVV, in respect of the time after this judgement, (which is Eternity) the time between this and it cannot be a minute ; and therefore think thy self at that Tribunall, that judgement now : Where thou shalt not onely heare all thy sinfull workes, and words, and thoughts repeated, which thou thy selfe hadst utterly forgot, but thou shalt heare thy good works, thine almes, thy comming to Church, thy hearing of Sermons given in evidence against thee, because they had hypocrisie mingled in them ; yea thou shalt finde even thy repent- ance to condemne thee, because thou madest that but a doore to a relapse. There thou shalt see, to thine inexpressible terror, some others cast downe into hell, for thy sins ; for those sins which they would not have done, but upon thy provocation. There thou shalt see some that occasioned thy sins, and accompanied thee in them, and sinned them in a greater measure then thou didst, taken up into heaven, because in the way, they remembred the end, and thou shalt sink under a lesse waight, because thou never lookedst towards him Bernard, that would have eased thee of it. Ouis non cogitans hcec in desperationis rotetur ahyssum ? Who can once thinke of this and not be tumbled into desperation ?

Joy.

217

142. Joy.

IF you. looke upon this world in a Map, you find two Hemisphears, two half worlds. If you crush heaven into a Map, you may find two Hemisphears too, two half heavens ; Halfe will be Joy, and halfe will be Glory ; for in these two, the joy of heaven, and the glory of heaven, is all heaven often represented unto us. And as of those two Hemisphears of the world, the first hath been knowne long before, but the other, (that of America, which is the richer in treasure) God reserved for later Discoveries ; So though he reserve that Hemisphear of heaven, which is the Glory thereof, to the Resurrection, yet the other Hemisphear, the Joy of heaven, God opens to our Dis- covery, and delivers for our habitation even whilst we dwell in this world. As God hath cast upon the unre- pentant sinner two deaths, a temporall, and a spirituall death, so hath he breathed into us two lives ; for so, as the word for death is doubled, MorU moruris, Thou Gen. 2. 17. shalt die the death, so is the word for life expressed in the plurall, Chaiirn, vitarum^ God breathed into his nostrils the breath of lives, of divers lives. Though our naturall life were no Hfe, but rather a continuall djing, yet we have two lives besides that, an eternall life reserved for heaven, but yet a heavenly life too, a spirituall life, even in this world ; And as God doth thus inflict two deaths, and infuse two lives, so doth he also passe two Judgements upon man, or rather repeats the same Judgement twice. For, that which Christ shall say to thy soule then at the last Judgement, Enter into thy Maii.25.23. Masters joy y Hee sayes to thy conscience now. Enter into

2i8 Joy.

thy Masters joy. The everlastingnesse of the joy is the blessednesse of the next hfe, but the entring, the inchoa- tion is afforded here. ...

Howling is the noyse of hell, singing the voyce of heaven ; Sadnesse the damp of Hell, Rejoycing the serenity of Heaven. And he that hath not this joy here, lacks one of the best pieces of his evidence for the joyes of heaven ; and hath neglected or refused that Earnest, by which God uses to binde his bargaine, that true joy in this world shall flow into the joy of Heaven, as a River flowes into the Sea ; This joy shall not be put out in death, and a new joy kindled in me in Heaven ; But as my soule, as soone as it is out of my body, is in Heaven, and does not stay for the possession of Heaven, nor for the fruition of the sight of God, till it be ascended through ayre, and fire, and Moone, and Sun, and Planets, and Firmament, to that place which we conceive to be Heaven, but without the thousandth part of a minutes stop, as soone as it issues, is in a glorious light, which is Heaven, (for all the way to Heaven is Heaven ; And as those Angels, which came from Heaven hither, bring Heaven with them, and are in Heaven here. So that soule that goes to Heaven, meets Heaven here ; and as those Angels doe not devest Heaven by comming, so these soules invest Heaven, in their going.) As my soule shall not goe towards Heaven, but goe by Heaven to Heaven, to the Heaven of Heavens, So the true joy of a good soule in this world is the very joy of Heaven ; and we goe thither, not that being without joy, we might have joy infused lohn 16.34. into us, but that as Christ sayes. Our joy might be full, ' perfected, sealed with an everlastingnesse ; for, as he

Joy. 219

promises, That no man shall take our joy from us, so neither shall Death it selfe take it away, nor so much as interrupt it, or discontinue it, But as in the face of Death, when he layes hold upon me, and in the face of the Devill, when he attempts me, I shall see the face of God, (for, every- thing shall be a glasse, to reflect God upon me) so in the agonies of Death, in the anguish of that dissolution, in the sorrowes of that valediction, in the irreversiblenesse of that transmigration, I shall have a joy, which shall no more evaporate, then my soule shall evaporate, A joy, that shall passe up, and put on a more glorious garment above, and be joy superinvested in glory. Amen.

143. The Joy of Heaven.

HUMILIATION is the beginning of sanctification ; and as without this, without hoHnesse, no man shall see God, though he pore whole nights upon the Bible ; so without that, without humility, no man shall heare God speake to his soule, though hee heare three two-houres Sermons every day. But if God bring thee to that humiliation of soule and body here, hee will emprove, and advance thy sanctification abundantiuSy more abundantly, and when he hath brought it to the best perfection, that this life is capable of, he will provide another abundantius, another maner of abundance in the life to come ; which is the last beating of the pulse of this text, the last panting of the breath thereof, our anhelation, and panting after the joyes, and glory, and eternity of the kingdome of Heaven ; of which, though, for the most part, I use to dismisse you, with saying something, yet it is alwaies little that I can say

220 The Joy of Heaven.

thereof ; at this time, but this, that if all the joyes of all the Martyrs, from Abel to him that groanes now in the Inquisition, were condensed into one body of joy, (and certainly the joyes that the Martyrs felt at their deaths, would make up a far greater body, then their sorrowes would doe,) (for though it bee said of our great Martyr, Apoc. I. 5. or great Witnesse, (as S. lohn calls Christ Jesus) to whom, all other Martyrs are but sub-martyrs, witnesses that Lam. 3. 12. testifie his testimony, Non dolor sicut dolor ejus, there was Heb. 12. 2. never sorrow like unto his sorrow, it is also true, Non gaudiurn sicut gaudium ejus. There was never joy like unto that joy which was set before him, when he endured the crosse ;) If I had all this joy of all these Martyrs, (which would, no doubt, be such a joy, as would worke a liquefaction, a melting of my bowels) yet I shall have it abundantius, a joy more abundant, then even this superlative joy, in the world to come. What a dimme vespers of a glorious festivall, what a poore halfe-holyday, is Methusalems nine hundred yeares, to eternity ? what a poore account hath that man made, that sales, this land hath beene in my name, and in my Ancestors from the Conquest ? what a yesterday is that ? not six hundred yeares. If I could beleeve the transmigration of soules, and thinke that my soule had beene successively in some creature or other, since the Creation, what a yesterday is that ? not six thousand yeares. What a yesterday for the past, what a to morrow for the future, is any terme, that can be comprehended in Cyphar or Counters ? But as, how abundant a life soever any man hath in this world for temporall abundances, I have life more abun- dantly then hee, if I have the spirituall life of grace, so

The Joy of Heaven. 221

what measure soever I have of this spirituall life of grace, in this world, I shall have that more abundantly in Heaven, for there, my terme shall bee a terme for three lives ; for those three, that as long as the Father, and the Son, and the holy Ghost live, I shall not dye.

144. Little Stars.

IN that glistering circle in the firmament, which we call the Galaxie, the milkie-way, there is not one starre of any of the six great magnitudes, which Astrono- mers proceed upon, belonging to that circle : it is a glorious circle, and possesseth a great part of heaven, and yet is all of so little starres, as have no name, no knowledge taken of them : So certainly there are many Saints in heaven, that shine as starres, and yet are not of those great magnitudes, to have been Patriarchs, or Prophets, or Apostles, or Martyrs, or Doctours, or Virgins ; but good & blessed souls, that have religiously performed the duties of inferior callings, and no more.

145. Heirs of Heaven,

HEIRES of heaven, which is not a Gavel-kinde, every son, every man alike ; but it is an universall primo- geniture, every man full, so full, as that every man hath all, in such measure, as that there is nothing in heaven, which any man in heaven wants. Heires of the joyes of heaven ; Joy in a continuall dilatation of thy heart, to receive augmentation of that which is infinite, in the accumulation of essentiall and accidentall joy. Joy in a continuall melting of indissoluble bowels, in joyfull,

222 Heirs of Heaven.

and yet compassionate beholding thy Saviour ; Rejoycing at thy being there, and almost lamenting (in a kindc of affection, which we can call by no name) that thou couldst not come thither, but by those wounds, which are still wounds, though wounds glorified. Heires of the joy, and heires of the glory of heaven ; where if thou look down, and see Kings fighting for Crownes, thou canst look off as easily, as from boyes at stool-ball for points here ; And from Kings triumphing after victories, as easily, as a Philosopher from a Pageant of children here. Where thou shalt not be subject to any other title of Dominion in others, but lesus of Nazareth King of the lews, nor ambitious of any other title in thy selfe, but that which thou possessest, To he the childe of God. Heires of joy, heires of glory, and heires of the eternity of heaven ; Where, in the possession of this joy, and this glory, The Angels which were there almost 6000. yeares before thee, and so prescribe, and those soules which shall come at Christs last comming, and so enter but then, shall not survive thee, but they, and thou, and all, shall Hve as long as he that gives you all that life, as God himselfe.

146. Seeing God. jILL the world is but Speculum, a glasse, in which we XjL see God ; The Church it self, and that which the Ordinance of the Church begets in us, faith it self, is but anigma, a dark representation of God to us, till we come to that state. To see God face to face, and to knoWy as also we are knowen. Sphcera. Now, as for the sight of God here, our Theatre was the

' Seeing God. 223

world, our Medium and glasse was the creature, and our light was reason, And then for our knowledge of God here, our Academy was the Church, our Medium the Ordinances of the Church, and our Light the light of faith, so we consider the same Termes, first, for the sight of God, and then for the knowledge of God in the next life. First, the Sphear, the place where we shall see him, is heaven ; He that asks me what heaven is, meanes not to heare me, but to silence me ; He knows I cannot tell him ; When I meet him there, I shall be able to tell him, and then he will be as able to tell me ; yet then we shall be but able to tell one another. This, this that we enjoy is heaven, but the tongues of Angels, the tongues of glorified Saints, shall not be able to expresse what that heaven is ; for, even in heaven our faculties shall be finite. Heaven is not a place that was created ; for, all place that was created, shall be dissolved. God did not plant a Paradise for himself, and remove to that, as he planted a Paradise for Adam^ and removed him to that ; But God is still where he was before the world was made. And in that place, where there are more Suns then there are Stars in the Firmament, (for all the Saints are Suns) And more light in another Sun, The Sun of righteous- nesse, the Son of Glory, the Sun of God, then in all them, in that illustration, that emanation, that effusion of beams of glory, which began not to shine 6000. yeares ago, but 6000. millions of millions ago, had been 6000. millions of millions before that, in those eternall, in those uncreated heavens, shall we see God. . . .

The light of glory is such a Hght, as that our School- Lux Gloria . men dare not say confidently, That every beam of it,

224 Seeing God.

is not all of it. When some of them say, That some soules see some things in God, and others, others, because all have not the same measure of the light of glory, the rest cry down that opinion, and say, that as the Essence of God is indivisible, and he that sees any of it, sees all of it, so is the light of glory communicated intirely to every blessed soul. God made hght first, and three dayes after, that light became a Sun, a more glorious Light : God gave me the Hght of Nature, when I quickned in my mothers wombe by receiving a reasonable soule ; and God gave me the light of faith, when I quickned in my second mothers womb, the Church, by receiving my baptisme ; but in my third day, when my mortahty shall put on immortality, he shall give me the light of glory, by which I shall see himself. To this light of glory, the light of honour is but a glow-worm ; and majesty it self but a twihght ; The Cherubims and Seraphims are but Candles ; and that Gospel it self, which the Apostle calls the glorious Gospel, but a Star of the least magnitude. And if I cannot tell, what to call this Hght, by which I shall see it, what shall I call that which I shaH see by it. The Essence of God himself ?

147. The Sight of God. Demn. '\ JO man ever sazv God and liv^d ; and yet, I shall not

-*- ^ live till I see God ; and when I have seen him I shall never dye. What have I ever seen in this world, that hath been truly the same thing that it seemed to me ? I have seen marble buildings, and a chip, a crust, a plaster, a face of marble hath pilld off, and I see brick- bowels within. I have seen beauty, and a strong breath

The Sight of God. 225

from another, tels me, that that complexion is from without, not from a sound constitution within. I have seen the state of Princes, and all that is but ceremony ; and, I would be loath to put a Master of ceremonies to define ceremony, and tell me what it is, and to include so various a thing as ceremony, in so constant a thing, as a Definition. I see a great Officer, and I see a man of mine own profession, of great revenues, and I see not the interest of the money, that was paid for it, I see not the pensions, nor the Annuities, that are charged upon that Office, or that Church, As he that fears God, fears nothing else, so, he that sees God, sees every thing else : when we shall see God, Sicuti est, as he is, we shall see i John 7,. 2. all things Sicuti sunt, as they are ; for that's their Essence, as they conduce to his glory. We shall be no more deluded with outward appearances : for, when this sight, which we intend here comes, there will be no delusory thing to be seen. All that we have made as though we saw, in this world, will be vanished, and I shall see nothing but God, and what is in him ; and him I shall see In came, in the flesh, which is another degree of Exaltation in mine Exinanition.

I shall see him. In carne sua, in his flesh : And this was In came. one branch in Saint Augustines great wish. That he might have seen Rome in her state. That he might have heard S. Paul preach. That he might have seen Christ in the flesh : Saint Augustine hath seen Christ in the flesh one thousand two hundred yeaers ; in Christs glorifyed flesh ; but, it is with the eyes of his understanding, and in his soul. Our flesh, even in the Resurrection, cannot be a spectacle, a perspective glasse to our soul.

2025*3 Q

226 The Sight of God.

We shall see the Humanity of Christ with our bodily eyes, then glorifyed ; but, that flesh, though glorifyed, cannot make us see God better, nor clearer, then the soul alone hath done, all the time, from our death, to our resurrection. But as an indulgent Father, or as a tender mother, when they go to see the King in any Solemnity, or any other thing of observation, and curiosity, delights to carry their child, which is flesh of their flesh, and bone of their bone, with them, and though the child cannot comprehend it as well as they, they are as glad that the child sees it, as that they see it themselves ; such a glad- nesse shall my soul have, that this flesh, (which she will no longer call her prison, nor her tempter, but her friend, her companion, her wife) that this flesh, that is, I, in the re-union, and redintegration of both parts, shall see God ; for then ; one principall clause in her rejoycing, and acclamation, shall be, that this flesh is her flesh ; In came med, in my flesh I shall see God. Mea. It was the flesh of every wanton object here, that would

allure it in the petulancy of mine eye. It was the flesh of every Satyricall Libeller, and defamer, and calumniator of other men, that would call upon it, and tickle mine ear with aspersions and slanders of persons in authority. And in the grave, it is the flesh of the worm ; the posses- sion is transfer'd to him. But, in heaven, it is Caro mea, My flesh, my souls flesh, my Saviours flesh. As my meat is assimilated to my flesh, and made one flesh with it ; 2 Pel. 1. 4- as my soul is assimilated to my God, and made partaker iCor.^.i-j. of the divine nature, and Idem Spiritus, the same Spirit with it ; so, there my flesh shall be assimilated to the flesh of my Saviour, and made the same flesh with him

The Sight of God. 227

too. Verhum caro factum, ut caro resurgeret ; Therefore Athanas. the Word was made flesh, therefore God was made man, that that union might exalt the flesh of man to the right hand of God. That's spoken of the flesh of Christ ; and then to facihtate the passage for us, Reformat ad wimorta- Cyril. litatem suam participes sui ; those who are worthy receivers of his flesh here, are the same flesh with him ; And, God shall quicken your mortall bodies, by his Spirit Rom. 8. n. that dwelleth in you. But this is not in consummation, in full accomplishment, till this resurrection, when it shall be Caro mea, my flesh, so, as that nothing can draw it from the allegiance of my God ; and Caro mea. My flesh, so, as that nothing can devest me of it. Here a bullet will aske a man, where's your arme ; and a Wolf wil ask a woman, where's your breast. A sentence in the Star-chamber will aske him, where's your ear, and a months close prison will aske him, where's your flesh ? A fever will aske him, where's your Red, and a morphew will aske him, where's your white ? But when after all this, when after my skinne worms shall destroy my body, I shall see God, I shall see him in my flesh, which shall be mine as inseparably, (in the effect, though not in the manner) as the Hypostaticall union of God, and man, in Christ, makes our nature and the Godhead one person in him. My flesh shall no more be none of mine, then Christ shall not be man, as well as God.

148. The State of Glory.

IF Origen could lodge such a conceit, that in heaven at last all things should ebbe back into God, as all things flowed from him at first ; and so there should

Q 2

228 The State of Glory.

be no other essence but God, all should be God, even the devil himself : how much more may we conceive an uxexpressible association (that is too farre off) an assimilation (that is not neare enough) an identification (the School would venture to say so) with God in that state of glorie ! Whereas the sunne by shining upon the moon, makes the moon a planet, a starre as well as itself, which otherwise would be but the thickest, and darkest part of that sphere : so those beams of glorie which shall issue from my God, and fall upon me, shall make me (otherwise a clod of earth, and worse, a dark soul, a spirit of darknesse) an angel of light, a starre of glorie, a some- thing that I cannot name now, not imagine now, nor to morrow, nor next yeare ; but even in that particular, I shall be Uke God : that as he that asked a day to give a definition of God, the next day asked a week, and then a moneth, and then a yeare ; so undeterminable would my imaginations be, if I should go about to think now, what I shall be there : I shall be so like God, as that the devil himself shall not know me from God, so farre as to finde any more place to fasten a temptation upon me, then upon God ; not to conceive any more hope of my falling from that kingdome, then of Gods being driven out of it ; for though I shall not be immortall as God, yet I shall be as immortall God. And there is my image of God ; of God considered altogether, and in his unitie, in the state of grace.

I shall have also then the image of all the three persons of the Trinitie. Power is the Fathers ; and a greater power, then he exercises here, I shall have there : here he overcomes enemies, but yet here he hath enemie.- ;

The State of Glory. 229

there, there are none : here they cannot prevail ; there they shall not be. So Wisdome is the image of the Sonne ; and there I shall have better wisdome : the spirituall wisdome it self is here : for, here our best wisdom is, but to go towards our end ; there it is to rest in our end : here it is to seek to be glorified by God ; there it is that God may be everlastingly glorified by me. The image of the Holy Ghost is Goodnesse. Here our goodnesse is mixt with some ill ; faith mixt with scruples, & good works mixt with a love of praise, and hope of better mixt with fear of worse : there I shall have sincere goodnesse, goodnesse impermixt, intemerate, and indeterminate goodnesse ; so good a place, as no ill accident shall annoy it ; so good companie as no impertinent, no importune person shall disorder it ; so full a goodnesse, as no evil of sinne, no evil of punishment for former sins can enter ; so good a God, as shall no more keep us in fear of his anger, nor in need of his mercie ; but shall fill us first, and establish us in that fulnesse in the same instant, and give us a satietie that we can wish no more, and an infalHbilitie that we can lose none of that, and both at once. Whereas the Cabalists expresse our nearnesse to God, in that state, in that note, that the name of man and the name of God, Adam, and Jehovah, in their numerall letters are equall : so I would have leave to expresse that inexpressible state, so farre as to say, that if there can be other worlds imagined besides this that is under our moon, and if there could be other Gods imagined of those worlds, besides this God to whose image we are made, in Nature, in Grace, in Glorie ; I had rather be one of these Saints in this heaven, than of those

230 The State of Glory.

gods in those other worlds. I shall be like the angels in a glorified soul, and the angels shall not be Hke me in a glorified bodie.

149. Justice. AS it is said of old Costnographers, that when they had JTJl said all that they knew of a Countrey, and yet much more was to be said, they said that the rest of those countries were possesst with Giants, or Witches, or Spirits, or Wilde beasts, so that they could pierce no farther into that Countrey, so when wee have travell'd as farre as wee can, with safetie, that is, as farre as Ancient, or Moderne Expositors lead us, in the discoverie of these new Heavens, and new Earth, yet wee must say at last, that it is a Countrey inhabited with Angells, and Arch- angells, with Cherubins, and Seraphins, and that wee can looke no farther into it, with these eyes. Where it is locally, wee enquire not ; We rest in this, that it is the habitation prepar'd for the blessed Saints of God ; Heavens where the Moone is more glorious than our Sunne, and the Siinne as glorious as Hee that made it ; For it is he himselfe, the Sonne of God, the Sunne of glorie. A new Earth, where all their waters are milke, and all their milke, honey ; where all their grasse is come, and all their corne, Manna ; where all their glebe, all their clods of earth are gold, and all their gold of innumer- able carats ; Where all their minutes are ages, and all their ages, Eternity ; Where every thing, is every minute, in the highest exaltation, as good as it can be, and yet super-exalted, & infinitely multiplied, by every minutes addition ; every minute, ii\finitely better, then ever

Justice. 231

it was before. Of these new heavens, & this new earth we must say at last, that wee can say nothing ; For, the eye of Man hath not scene, nor eare heard, nor heart con- ceived, the State of this place. We Hmit, and determine our consideration with that Horizon, with which the Holy Ghost hath Hmited us, that it is that new Heavens, and new Earth, wherein dwelleth Righteousnesse.

Here then the Holy Ghost intends the same new Righteou?

Heavens, and new Earth, which he doe's in the Apocalyps, "^^^^'

21. I.

and describes there, by another name, the new Jerusalem. But here, the Holy Ghost doe's not proceed, as there, to enamour us of the place, by a promise of improvement of those things, which we have, and love here ; but by a promise of that, which here wee have not at all. There, and elsewhere, the holy Ghost applies himselfe, to the naturall affections of men. To those that are affected with riches, he sales, that that new City shall be all o/Verg. 18. gold, and in the foundations, all manner of precious stones; To those that are affected with beauty, hee promises an everlasting association, with that beautifull Couple, that faire Paire, which spend their time, in that contempla- tion, and that protestation, Ecce tu pulchra dilecta me a ;Cant. i. 15, Ecce, tu pulcher ; Behold, thou art fair, my Beloved, says he ; and then, she replies, Behold, thou art fair too ; noting the mutuall complacencie betweene Christ and his Church there. To those which delight in Musicke, hee promises continuall singing, and every minute, a new song : To those, whose thoughts are exerciz'd upon Honour, and Titles, Civill, or Ecclesiasticall, hee promises Priesthood, and if that be not honour enough, a Royall Priesthood ; And to those, who looke after military

232 Justice.

honor^ Triumph after their victory, in the Militant Church ; And to those, that are carried with sumptuous, and magnifique feasts, a Mariage supper of the Lambe, where, not onely all the rarities of the whole world, but the whole world it selfe shall be serv'd in ; The whole world shall bee brought to that Jire, and serv'd at that Table. But here, the holy Ghost proceeds not that way ; by improvement of things, which wee have, and love here ; riches, or beauty, or musicke or honour, or feasts ; but by an everlasting possession of that, which wee hunger, and thirst, and pant after, here, and cannot compasse, that is. Justice or Righteousnesse ; for both these, our present word denotes, and both those wee want here, and shall have both, for ever, in these new Heavens, and nezv Earth.

What would a worne and macerated suter, opprest by the bribery of the rich, or by the might of a potent Adversary, give, or doe, or suffer, that he might have Justice ? What would a dejected Spirit, a disconsolate soule, opprest with the weight of heavy, and habituall sinne, that stands naked in a frosty Winter of desperation, and cannot compasse one fig leafe, one colour, one excuse for any circumstance of any sinne, give for the garment of Righteousnesse ? here there is none that doe's right, none that executes Justice ; or, not for Justice sake. Hee that doe's Justice, doe's it not at first ; and Christ Luk. 18. 2. doe's not thanke that Judge, that did Justice, upon the womans importunity. Justice is no Justice, that is done for fear of an Appeale, or a Commission. There may bee found, that may doe Justice at first ; At their first entrance into a place, to make good impressions, to

Justice. 233

establish good opinions, they may doe some Acts of Justice ; But after, either an Uxoriousnesse towards the wife, or a Solicitude for children, or a facility towards servants, or a vastnesse of expense, quenches, and over- com's the love of Justice in them ; Non habitat. In most it is not : but it dzuels not in any. In our new Heavens, and and new Earth, dwelleth justice. And that's my comfort ; that when I come thither, I shall have Justice at God's hands.

150. Knowledge in Heaven.

SOME things the Angels do know by the dignity of their Nature, by their Creation, which we know not ; as we know many things which inferior Crea- tures do not ; and such things all the Angels, good and bad know. Some things they know by the Grace of their confirmation, by which they have more given them, then they had by Nature in their Creation ; and those things only the Angels that stood, but all they, do know. Some things they know by Revelation, when God is pleased to manifest them unto them ; and so some of the Angels know that, which the rest, though confirm'd, doe not know. By Creation, they know as his Subjects ; by Confirmation, they know as his Servants ; by revelation, they know as his Councel. Now, Erimus sicut Angeli, says Christ, There we shall be as the Angels : The knowledge which I have by Nature, shall have no Clouds ; here it hath : That which I have by Grace, shall have no reluctation, no resistance ; here it hath : That which I have by Revelation, shall have no suspition.

234 Knowledge in Heaven.

no jealousie ; here it hath : sometimes it is hard to dis- tinguish between a respiration from God, and a suggestion from the Devil. There our curiosity shall have this noble satisfaction, we shall know how the Angels know, by knowing as they know. We shall not pass from Author, to Author, as in a Grammar School, nor from Art to Art, as in an University ; but, as that General which Knighted his whole Army, God shall Create us all Doctors in a minute. That great Library, those infinite Volumes of the Books of Creatures, shall be taken away, quite away, no more Nature ; those reverend Manuscripts, written with Gods own hand, the Scriptures themselves, shall be taken away, quite away ; no more preaching, no more reading of Scriptures, and that great School-Mistress, Experience, and Observation shall be remov'd, no new thing to be done, and in an instant, I shall know more, then they all could reveal unto me. I shall know, not only as I know already, that a Bee-hive, that an Ant-hill is the same Book in Decimo sexto^ as a Kingdom is in Folio, That a Flower that lives but a day, is an abridgment of that King, that lives out his threescore and ten years ; but I shall know too, that all these Ants, and Bees, and Flowers, and Kings, and Kingdoms, howsoever they may be Examples, and Comparisons to one another, yet they are all as nothing, altogether nothing, less than nothing, infinitely less than nothing, to that which shall then be the subject of my knowledge, for, it is the knowledge of the glory of God.

Eternity. 235

151. Eternity.

HOW barren a thing is Arithmetique ? (and yet Arithmetique will tell you, how many single graines of sand, will fill this hollow Vault to the Firmament) How empty a thing is Rhetorique ? (and yet Rhetorique will make absent and remote things present to your understanding) How weak a thing is Poetry ? (and yet Poetry is a counterfait Creation, and makes things that are not, as though they were) How infirme, how impotent are all assistances, if they be put to expresse this Eternity ?

152. Eternity.

IF I had Methusalems yeers, and his yeers multiplyed by the minutes of his yeers, (which were a faire terme) if I could speak till the Angels Trumpets blew, and you had the patience of Martyrs, and could be content to heare me, till you heard the Surgite Mortui, till you were called to meet the Lord Jesus in the clouds, all that time would not make up one minute, all those words would not make up one syllable, towards this Eternity, the period of this blessednesse.

153. Eternity,

A STATE but of one Day, because no Night shall over-take, or determine it, but such a Day, as is not of a thousand yeares, which is the longest measure in the Scriptures, but of a thousand millions of millions of generations : Qui nee frceceditur he sterna, nee excluditur August. crastino, A day that hath no -pridie, nor postridie, yesterday doth not usher it in, nor to morrow shall not drive it out. Methusalem, with all his hundreds of yeares, was

236 Eternity.

but a Mushrome of a nights growth, to this day, And all the foure Monarchies, with all their thousands of yeares, And all the powerfull Kings, and all the beautifull Queenes of this world, were but as a bed of flowers, some gathered at six, some at seaven, some at eight. All in one Morning, in respect of this Day. In all the two thousand yeares of Nature, before the Law given by Moses, And the two thousand yeares of Law, before the Gospel given by Christ, And the two thousand of Grace, which are running now, (of which last houre we have heard three quarters strike, more then fifteen hundred of this last two thousand spent) In all this six thousand, and in all those, which God may be pleased to adde, In domo patris, In this House of his Fathers, there was never heard quarter clock to strike, never seen minute glasse to turne.

I

154. Joy in Heaven.

'T is time to end ; but as long as the glasse hath a

gaspe, as long as I have one, I would breathe in this

ayre, in this perfume, in this breath of heaven, the

Pi'aZ.89.15. contemplation of this Joy, Blessed is that man, qui scit

jubilationem, says David, that knowes the joyfull sound :

August. For, Nulla inodo beatus, nisi scias unde gaudeas ; For

though we be bound to rejoyce alwayes, it is not a blessed

joy, if we do not know upon what it be grounded : or

if it be not upon everlasting blessednesse. Comedite

Cant. 5. I. amici, says Christ, bibite i^ inebriamini. Eat and drink^

and be filled. Joy in this life, Vbi in sudore vescimur, where

grief is mingled with joy, is called meat, says Saint

Bernard. Bernard, and Christ cals his friends to eat in the first

Joy in Heaven. 237

word. Potus infuturo, says he, Joy in the next life, where it passes down without any difficulty, without any opposi- tion, is called drink ; and Christ calls his friends to drink : but the overflowing, the Ebrietas anima, that is reserved to the last time, when our bodies as well as our souls, shall enter into the participation of it : Where, when wee shall love every one, as well as our selves, and so have that Joy of our owne salvation multiplied by that number, wee shall have that Joy so many times over, as there shall bee soules saved, because wee love them as our selves, how infinitely shall this Joy be enlarged in loving God, so far above our selves, and all them. Wee have but this to add. Heaven is called by many pretious names ; Mati. 9. 15. Life. Simply and absolutely there is no life but that. L?<c. 12.32. And Kingdome ; Simply, absolutely there is no Kingdom, Esay 66.23. that is not subordinate to that. And Sabbatum ex Sabbato, A Sabbath flowing into a Sabbath, a perpetuall Sabbath : but the Name that should enamour us most, is that, that it is Satietas gaudiorum ; fulnesse of Joy. P^aZ.i6.u. Fulnesse that needeth no addition ; Fulnesse, that admitteth no leake. And then though in the Schoole we place Blessednesse, In visione, in the sight of God, yet the first thing that this sight of God shall produce in us (for that shall produce the Reformation of the Image of God, in us, and it shall produce our glorifying of God) but the first thing that the seeing of God shall produce in us, is Joy. The measure of our seeing of God is the measure of Joy. See him here in his Blessings, and you shall joy in those blessings here ; and when you come to see him Sicuti est, in his Essence, then you shall have tliis Joy in Essence, and in fulnesse ; of which, God of

238 Joy in Heaven.

his goodnesse give us such an earnest here, as may binde to us that inheritance hereafter, which his Sonne our Saviour Christ Jesus hath purchased for us, with the inestimable price of his incorruptible blood. Amen.

155. Dormers Last Sermon.

IN all our periods and transitions in this life, are so many passages from death to death ; our very birth and entrance into this life, is exitus a morte, an issue from death, for in our mothers womhe wee are dead so, as that wee doe not know wee live, not so much as wee do in our sleepe, neither is there any grave so close, or so putrid a prison, as the wombe would be unto us, if we stayed in it beyond our time, or dyed there before our time. In the grave the wormes doe not kill us, we breed and jeed^ and then kill those wormes, which we our selves produc'd. In the wombe the dead child kills the Mother that conceived it, & is a murtherer, nay a parricide, even after it is dead. And if wee bee not dead so in the wombe, so as that being dead wee kill her that gave us our first life, our life of vegetation, yet wee are dead so,

Psal. 115. as Davids Idols are dead. In the wombe we have eves and vers. 6. ,

see not, eares and heare not ; There in the wombe wee are

fitted for workes of darkenes, all the while deprived of

light : And there in the wombe wee are taught cruelty,

by being fed with blood, and may be damned, though we

be never borne. . . .

Wee have a winding sheete in our Mothers wombe,

which growes with us from our conception, and wee

come into the world, wound up in that winding sheet,

for wee come to seeke a grave ; And as prisoners discharg'd

Donne's Last Sermon. 239

of actions may lye for fees ; so when the womhe hath discharg'd us, yet we are bound to it by cordes of flesh by such a string, as that wee cannot goe thence, nor stay there ; wee celebrate our owne funeralls with cryes, even at our birth ; as though our threescore and ten years life were spent in our mothers labour, and our circle made up in the first point thereof ; we begge our Baptisme, with another Sacrament, with teares ; And we come into a world that lasts many ages, but we last not. . . .

This whole world is but an universall churchyard, but our common grave, and the life & motion that the greatest persons have in it, is but as the shaking of buried bodies in their grave, by an earth-quake. That which we call life, is but Hebdomada mortium, a weeke of death, seaven dayes, seaven periods of our life spent in dying, a dying seaven times over, and there is an end. Our birth dyes in infancy, and our infancy dyes in youth, and youth and the rest dye in age, and age also dyes, and determines all. Nor doe all these, youth out of infancy, or age out of youth arise so, as a Phcenix out of the ashes of another Phoenix formerly dead, but as a waspe or a serpent out of caryon, or as a Snake out of dung. Our youth is worse then our infancy, and our age worse then our youth. Our youth is hungry and thirsty, after those sinnes, which our infancy knew not ; And our age is sory and angry, that it cannot pursue those sinnes which our youth did ; & besides, al the way, so many deaths, that is, so many deadly calamities accompany every condition, and every period of this life, as that death it selfe would bee an ease to them that suffer them : Upon this sense doth Job wish that God had not given him an issue from xYio. first death, from the

240 Donne's Last Sermon.

10. 18. zvombe^ Wherefore hast thou brought me forth out of the womhe ? O that I had given up the Ghost, and no eye scene me ? I should have beene as though I had not beene. . . . But for us that dye now and sleepe in the state of the dead, we must al passe this posthume death, this death after death, nay this death after buriall, this dissolution after dissolution, this death of corruption and putrefaction, of vermiculation and incineration, of dissolution and dispersion in and from the grave, when these bodies that have been the children of royall parents, & the parents of royall children, must say with Job, Corruption thou art my father, and to the Worme thou art my mother iff my sister. Miserable riddle, when the sa?ne worme must bee my mother, and my sister, and my selfe. Miserable incest, when I must be maried to my mother and my sister, and bee hoth. father and mother to my own mother and sister, beget & beare that worme which is all that miserable penury ; when my mouth shall he. filled with dust, and the

Vers.24.20. worme shall feed, and feed sweetely upon me, when the ambitious man shall have no satisfaction, if the poorest alive tread upon him, nor the poorest receive any content- ment in being made equall to Princes, for they shall bee

Job 23. 24. equall but in dust. One dyeth at his full strength, being wholly at ease, & in quiet, and another dyes in the bitternes of his soul, and never eates with pleasure, but they lye downe alike in the dust, and the worme covers

^^15.14.11. them ; In Job and in Esay, it covers them and is spred under them, the worme is spred under thee, and the worme covers thee. There's the Mats and the Carpets that lye under, and there's the State and the Canapye, that hangs over the greatest of the sons of men ; Even those

Donne's Last Sermon. 241

bodies that were the temples of the holy Ghost, come to this dilapidation, to ruine, to rubbidge, to dust, even the Israel of the Lord, and Jacob himself hath no other specification, no other denomination, but that, vermis Jacob, Thou worme of Jacob. Truely the consideration of this posthume death, this death after buriall, that after God, (with whom are the issues of death) hath deUvered me from the death of the wombe, by bringing mee into the world, and from the manifold deaths of the world, by laying me in the grave, I must dye againe in an Incineration of this flesh, and in a dispersion of that dust. That all that Monarch, who spred over many nations alive, must in his dust lye in a corner of that sheete of lead, and there, but so long as that lead will laste, and that privat and retir''d man, that thought himselfe his owne for ever, and never came forth, must in his dust of the grave be published, and, (such are the revolutions of the graves) bee mingled with the dust of every high way, and of every dunghill, and swallowed in every puddle and pond ; This is the most inglorious and contemptible vilification, the most deadly and peremptory nullification of man, that we can consider.

aoas's

NOTES

No. 1. The Preacher. I, p. 338. Sermon XXXIV. ^ Preached upon Whitsunday.''

1. 5. ' red earth '. Cf. The Lttante, i.

From this red earth, O Father, purge away- All vicious tinctures.

[Poems, ed. Grierson, i, p. 338.) Donne was extremely fond of this pun on the Hebrew word Adam or red earth — a pun, Coleridge remarks, which was common in Donne's age, but unworthy of him {Coleridge, p. 148).

p. 2, I. 7. 'a little parke in the midst of a forest '. In a prayer printed at the end of his Essays in Divinity, Donne writes, ' I am a man and no worm, and within the pale of Thy Church and not in the wild forest' (Gosse, Life, ii, p. 103).

1. II. ' Sancerraes '. Sancerre in France was a stronghold of Protestantism during the religious wars. In 1 573 it was besieged by the Catholics for nine months, and its defenders suffered extreme privations. In his Elegie, viii, 1. 10, Donne refers to ' Sancerra's starved men ' {Poems, i, p. 91, and note ii, p. 74).

2. When I consider. I, p. 223. Sermon XXII. ' Preached at S. Pauls, upon Easter-day, 1627 ' (March 25).

3. / am Not all Here. II, p. 116. Sermon XIV. ' Preached at Lincolns Inne.' Donne was Reader at Lincoln's Inn from October I 61 6 to February 1622.

4. Imperfect Prayers. I, p. 820. Sermon LXXX. ' Preached at the funerals of Sir William Cokayne Knight, Alderman of London, Decefnber 12. 1626.' See note on No. 47.

5. Powers and Principalities. I, pp. 452-3. Sermon XLV. ' Preached upon All-Saints Day.'

6. Infecting God. I, pp. 589-90. Sermon LVIII. '' Preached upon the Penitential! Psalmes.'

7. Forgiveness of Sins. I, p. 311. Sermon XXXI. ^ Preached at S. Pauls, upon Whitsunday. 1629' (May 24).

8. Forgive my Sins. II, p. 224. Sermon XXVI. ' Preached to the King, at White-Hall, the first Sunday in Lent.' Probably 1627 (E. M. Spearing, A Chronological Arrangetnent of Donne's Sermons, Mod. Lang. Review, October 1913).

R 2

244 Notes.

9. Let Me Wither. I, pp. 665-6. Sermon LXVI. ' The second of my Prebend Sermons upon my five Psalmes. Preached at S. Pauls, January 29. 1625' (1626). 'This Second Prebend Sermon, which is a long poem of victory over death, is one of the most magnificent pieces of religious writing in English literature' {Gosse, ii, p. 239). For Donne's Prebend Sermons, see note on No. 20. For other passages from this sermon, see Nos. 20, 41, 80, 142.

10. Donne and the Worm. II, p. 7. Sermon I. * A Sermon Preached At the Earl of Bridgewaters hoi4se in London at the inariage of his daughter, the Lady Mary, to the eldest sonne of the L. Herbert of Castle-iland, Novemb. 19. 1627.'

This Earl of Bridgewater was John, first Earl, 1 579-1649, son of Donne's former patron Sir Thomas Egerton, Lord Ellesmere. Donne's wife, Mary More, was a niece of the second Lady Egerton. It was this Lord Bridgewater's children who acted in Conius in 1634. His daughter Mary married Richard, son of Edward, Lord Herbert of Cherbury (Z). A^. B.).

11. Preaching Consolation. I, p. 745. Sermon LXXIII. 'Preached to the King in my Ordinary zvayting at White-hall, 18. Aprill 1626.'

In Donne's Divine Poeftis there is one addressed ' To M'' Tilman after he had taken orders ' in which several phrases occur similar to phrases in this extract :

Chang'd onely Gods old image by Creation, To Christs new stampe, at this thy Coronation.

(U. 17,18.) Alaries prerogative was to beare Christ, so 'Tis preachers to convey him, for they doe As angels out of clouds, from Pulpits speake ; (11. 41-3.)

{Poems, i, pp. 351-2.)

12. The Beauty of the Soul. II, p. 367. Sermon XL. 'Preached at Saint Pauls.'

13. Spiritual Liberality. I, pp. 762-3. Sermon LXXV. 'Preached to the King at White-hall, April 15. 1628 ' (Easter Sunday).

1. 21. ' that Meteor '. Donne used meteor in the sense of a body in mid-air, between heaven and earth. Thus he writes in a letter to Sir H. Goodyer, ' Our nature is Meteorique, we respect (because we partake so) both earth and heaven ' {Letters, 1651, p. 46).

p. 15, 1. 12. ' To bow downe those Heavens '. Cf. Donne's verse- cpistle To M'' Tilman after he had taken orders,

How brave are those, who with their' Engine, can Bring man to heaven, and heaven againe to man .''

{Poems, i, p. 352.)

Notes. 245

14. Eagles Wings. I, pp. 435-6. Sermon XLIV. 'Preached at S. Dunstanes upon Trinity-Sunday. 1627.'

p. 16, I. 12. ' He flings open the gates of Heaven '. Cf. To M^ Tilman, 11. 39-40:

To open life, to give kingdoms to more

Than Kings give dignities ; to keepe heavens doore ?

{Poems, i, p. 352.)

15. The Hour-Glass. IH, p. 61. Sermon V. ' A Lent-Sermon Preached to the King, At White-hall, February 12. 1629 ' (1630).

1. 14. ' stare ', i. e. a starHng.

16. Preaching. I, pp. 692-3. Sermon LXYHI. 'The fourth of my Prebend Sermons upon my five Psalmes : Preached at S. Pauls, 28. January, 1626' (1627).

17. Applause. H, p. 371. Sermon XL. Ante, No. 12.

p. 20, 1. 6. ' murmurings '. ' The sermons of this time seem to us now to be overloaded — too long — artificial, and sometimes in bad taste .... That they were listened to with great attention, and often produced very great effect upon the audience, we know. Frequently the preacher was interrupted by expressions of dissent or by loud applause ' {Jessopp, pp. 137-8).

In an elegy ' In memory of Doctor Donne ', by R. B. (Richard Brathwaite ?) the author states that the old-fashioned ' doctrine- men ' did not like or approve of Donne's preaching, and ' humm'd against him ' (Poems, i, p. 386).

18. The Bellman. Ill, p. 205. Sermon XV. ' A Sermon Preached at White-hall. February 29. 1627' (1628).

p. 2 1, 1. 6. ' that good Custome in these Cities ', i. e. the ' Waits ', or wind-instrumentalists maintained by the city, who perambulated the streets, often in the morning.

^.9. Favourite Scriptures. II, pp. 159 (correctly 151)-! 52. Sermon XIX. ' Preached at Lincolns Inne?

p. 22, 1. II. 'such forms, as I have been most accustomed to'. Donne almost never refers to himself as an author in his sermons. He once, however, says, ' Adams sin, 6000 years agoe, is my sin ; and their sin, that shall sinne by occasion of any wanton "writings of mine, will be my sin, though they come after '. (II, p. 171.)

20. The Psalms. I, p. 663. Sermon LXVI. See ante. No. g. The Sermon was on Psalm Ixiii. 7.

p. 24, 1. 3. ' third obUgation '. Donne, as Dean, was one of the prebendaries of St. Paul's. ' The Psalter was divided up among the thirty prebendaries, each of whom was supposed to recite his five psalms daily, and to make them his special subject of meditation. Donne took his place in the Chapter as prebendary of Chiswick,

246

Notes.

and his five psalms were the 62nd to the 66th inclusive ' (Jessopp, p. 141). See note on No. 46.

21. Sanctified Passions. Ill, pp. 257-8. Sermon XVIII. 'A Sermon Preached to Queen Anne, at Denmarke-house. December. 14, 1 61 7.'

22. Style and Language. I, pp. 556-7. Sermon LV. 'Preached upon the Penitentiall Psalmes.'

23. Style oj the Holy Ghost. I, p. 812. Sermon LXXIX. 'Preached at S. Pauls.'

24. Compliments. I, p. 176. Sermon XVIII. 'Preached at S. Pauls, in the Evening, upon Easter-day. 1623 ' (April 13).

1. 2. ' Complement ' in the sense of the more modern ' compliment '. First instance in the N. E. D., 1578. Donne in his Fourth Satire writes,

so did hee With his long complementall thankes vexe me.

{Poems, i, p. 164.)

This use (not noted in the A^. E. D.) is probably the first appearance of the word in this sense, if the Satire was written in 1597.

25. Lying at Aix. II, p. 183. Sermon XXI. ' Preached at Lincolns Jnne.'

1. I. ' Aquisgrane '. The Roman name for Aix-la-Chapelle was Aquisgranum. This visit to Aix was no doubt in 161 2, when Donne accompanied Sir Robert and Lady Drury to France, and afterwards to Spa.

26. Farezvell on Going to Germany. Ill, p. 280. Sermon XIX. ' A Sermon of Valediction at my going into Germany, at Lincolns- Inne, April. 18. 161 9.' Donne was appointed to go as King's Chaplain with Viscount Doncaster on his mission to the German Princes. In Donne's Divine Poems there is A Hynine to Christ, at the Authors last going into Germany {Poems, i, p. 352). In his Bibliography of John Donne, Mr. Geoffrey Keynes mentions a volume Sapientia Clamitans, by William Milbourne Priest (1638), which includes (pp. 251-319) a different, and probably earlier, text of this farewell sermon. I have not been able to examine this book, as the copy said to be in the British Museum could not be found there.

27. The Vicar oj St. Dunstan's. II, pp. 424-5. Sermon XLV. 'Preached at Saint Dunstans Aprill 11. 1624. The first Sermon in that Church, as Vicar thereof.' In March 1624 Donne was presented to the living of St. Dunstan's by Richard Sackville, Earl of Dorset. This first sermon, Dr. Jessopp says, was ' a kind of manifesto setting

Notes. 247

forth the preacher's view of the reciprocal duties of the pastor and his flock ' (Jessopp, p. 164).

28. Funeral Sermon on Magdalen Herbert, Lady Danvers. ' A Sermon of Commemoration of the Lady Ddners, late Wife of S"". John Dduers. Preach'd at Chilsey, where she was lately buried. By lohn Donne D. of S^ Pauls, Lond. i. luly 1627' (London, 1627), pp. 1-4, 126-70. This sermon was not reprinted in the folios, but is included in Alford's edition (vi, p. 244) and was printed in Picker- ing's edition of Devotions by John Donne, D.D. (1840), pp. 158-97.

Lady Danvers was, by her first husband, Richard Herbert, of Montgomery Castle, the mother, among other children, of Lord Herbert of Cherbury, and George Herbert. In 1608 she married ' Sir John Danvers, an intelligent and wealthy young man not quite half her age ' (Gosse, ii, p. 228). For her friendship with Donne, see ibid.,'i, p. 162 f.. Poems, ii., pp. xxivf., and Walton's ' Life of George Herbert'. For Donne's poems to Mrs. Herbert, see Poems, i, pp. 61, 92,216,317.

Lady Danvers lived at Danvers House, Chelsea, where Donne took refuge during the plague of 1625 (see No. 35). Lady Danvers died in the first days of June 1627, and was buried in Chelsea Church on June 8. Donne had undertaken to preach her funeral sermon, but it was postponed to July i {Go$se, ii, p. 247). Walton in his Life of Mr. George Herbert, says ' I saw and heard this Mr. John Donne (who was then Dean of St. Pauls) weep, and preach her Funeral Sermon, in the Parish-Church of Chelsey near London, where she now rests in her quiet Grave ' (Walton's Lives, 1670, ' The Life of Mr. George Herbert ', p. 19). Donne's ' affection to her was such, that he turn'd Poet in his old Age, and then made her Epitaph ; wishing, all his Body were turn'd into Tongues, that he might declare her just praises to posterity ' {ibid., p. 16).

29. Death of Elizabeth and Accession of James L IH, p. 351. Sermon XXIV. ' A Sermon Preached at Pauls Cross to the Lords of the Council, and other Honorable Persons, 24. Mart. 1616 [1617]. It being the Anniversary of the Kings coming to the Crown, and his Majesty being then gone into Scotland.''

' When James I started on his memorable " Progress " to Scotland on the 15th March 161 7, he appears to have ordered that Donne should preach at Paul's Cross on the 24th of March, the anniversary of his coming to the Crown ' (Jessopp, p. 122). This was Donne's first appearance in the famous open-air pulpit, which stood at the north-east corner of old St. Paul's. ' Paul's Cross was the pulpit not only of the Cathedral ; it might almost be said, as preaching became more popular, and began more and more to rule the public mind, to have become that of the Church of England. . . . Excepting the King and his retinue, who had a covered gallery, the congregation.

248

Notes.

even the Mayor and the Aldermen, stood in the open air ' (H. H. Milman, Annals of S. Paul's Cathedral, 1869, pp. 163-4). For Donne's Sermon on this occasion, see Jessopp, pp. 1 22-3 ; Gosse, ii, pp. 1 14-1 6. On March 29, 161 7, John Chamberlain wrote to Sir Dudley Carleton, ' I had almost forgotten, that on Monday, the 27th [24th] of this month, being the king's day, the archbishop of Canterbury, the lord keeper [Bacon], lord privy seal, the Earl of Arundel, the Earl of Southampton, the Lord Hay, the comptroller, Secretary Winwood, the master of the Rolls, with divers other great men, were at Paul's Cross, and heard Donne, who made there a dainty sermon upon the nth verse of the 22d of Proverbs, and was exceedingly well liked generally, the rather for that he did Queen Elizabeth great right, and held himself close to the text, without flattering the time too much ' (C. & T. Jas. I, ii, p. 4). On May 10 Chamberlain writes, ' I know not how to procure a copy of Dr. Donne's sermon if it come not in print, but I will inquire after it ' [ibid., p. 10).

p. 48,1. 8. 'recognitions'. Misprinted ' recognitious ' in the folio. A few other obvious misprints have been silently corrected.

30. The Gunpowder Plot. II, pp. 402-3. Sermon XLIII. ' A Sermon upon the fift o/Novemb. i6zz. being the Anniversary celebra- tion of our Deliverance from ?^f Powder Treason. Intended for Pauls Crosse, but by reason of the weather. Preached in the Church.^

On December i, 1622, Donne wrote to Sir Thomas Roe, James I's Ambassador to the Ottoman Porte, and after mentioning his sermon at St. Paul's Cross on September 14, 1622 (which was printed by royal command in 1622) he adds: ' Some weeks after that I preached another at the same place, upon the Gunpowder Day ; therein I was left more to mine own liberty, and therefore I would I could also send your Lordship a copy of that, but that one, which also by commandment I did write after the preaching, is as yet in his Majesty's hand, and I know not whether he will in it, as he did in the other, after his reading thereof, command it to be printed ; and whilst it is in that suspense, I know your Lordship would call it indiscretion to send out any copy thereof ; neither truly am I able to commit that fault, for I have no copy ' {Gosse, ii, pp. 174-5).

31. Preached to the Honourable Company of the Virginian Plantation, 1622. ' A Sermon upon the VIII Verse of the I. Chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. Preach'd to the Honourable Company of the Virginian Plantation. 13°. Novemb. 1622. By lohn Donne Deane of S'' Pauls, London 1622' (London, 1622), pp. 11-13, 18-22, 42-6. This sermon is not in the folios ; it was re-issued m Four Sermons 1625, and Five Sermons 1626, and reprinted by Alford, vi, pp. 223-41. In 1622 the Earl of Southampton was chosen treasurer of the Virginia Company, and Nicholas Ferrar, afterwards of Little Gidding, deputy treasurer. ' It must have been at their invitation that Donne

Notes. 249

was invited to preach before the Company, and to impress upon the adventurers, who included among them a large number of bishops, clergy, and devout laity, an appeal from the missionary point of view ' (Jessopp, p. 149)- ' This sermon may with truth, be called the first missionary sermon ever preached in England since Britain had become a Christian land' [ibid., p. 148). See, however, next.

32. The Mission of England. Ill, p. 195. Sermon XIV. 'A Second Sermon Preached at White-hall. April 2. 1621.'

1. 6. 'Islands . . . Islands,' misprinted 'Island . . . Island' in the foHo.

33. James I. II, p. 406. Sermon XLIII. See ante, No. 30, Donne's ' Gunpowder Plot ' Sermon. Now that James I was nego- tiating for the Spanish Marriage, and had released from prison a large number of Roman Catholics, there were many rumours that the King intended to make a change of religion (C. & T. Jas. I, i, pp. 300, 326, 356).

3^. Death of James I. II,.p. 303. Sermon XXXIII. 'Preached at Denmark house, some few days before the body of King James, was removed from thence, to his buriall, Apr. 26. 1625.' James I died at Theobalds on March 27. His body was embalmed and taken on April 4 to Denmark House, where it lay in state until the funeral on May 7 (C. & T. Charles I, i, pp. 3, 22). On April 3 Donne delivered his first sermon before Charles I at Saint James's (see No. 75).

35.The Plague, i6z^. Ill, pp. 293-6 (Qqq 1-2 v). Sermon XXI. 'A Sermon Preached at St. Dunstans January 15. i625[i626]. The First Sermon after Our Dispersion, by the Sickness.' During the great plague of 1625, when London was almost deserted, Donne withdrew to Sir John Danvers's house in Chelsea, where he spent his time writing out and revising his sermons. (Gosse, ii, pp. 222, 225.)

36. Difficult Times. II, p. 158 (correctly 150). Sermon XVIII. ' Preached at Lincolns Inne.' Donne resigned his divinity reader- ship at Lincoln's Inn on February 11, 1622. This undated sermon was probably preached shortly before his resignation, during the negotiations for the Spanish Match.

p. 62, 1. 30. ' hull it out '. To ' hull ' is an obsolete nautical term, meaning ' to float or be driven by the force of the wind or current on the hull alone ; to drift to the wind with sails furled ; to He a-huU' (N. E. D.). Cf. Richard III, iv. iv. 439, s^nA Henry VIII, II. iv. 197 ' thus hailing in The wild Sea of my Conscience '.

37. Polemical Preaching. I, pp. 778-9. Sermon LXXVII. 'Preached at S. Pauls, May 21. 1626.' In 1622, during his negotia- tions with Spain, James I had forbidden polemical preaching, and Donne had, by royal command, deUvered a Sermon at Paul's Cross

250 Notes.

on September 15, to explain to the populace the King's Instructions to Preachers (Gosse, ii, p. 160). ' He gave no great satisfaction ' ; Chamberlain writes, ' or, as some say, spoke as if himself were not so well satisfied ' (C & T. Jas. /, ii, p. 333). Now that England was at war with Spain and fighting to help the German Protestants, what Donne calls ' the beating of our Drums in the Pulpit ' was again allowed.

38. The World Decays. I, p. 357. Sermon XXXVI. 'Preached upon Whitsunday.' Donne, as Dean, was required to preach the Whitsunday Sermon at St. Paul's. For the letter of St. Cyprian, see Ramsay^ p. 86. Cf. Donne's First Anniversary, 11. 201-4:

So did the world from the first houre decay, That evening was beginning of the day, And now the Springs and Sommers which we see, Like sonnes of women after fiftie bee.

{Poetns, i, p. 237.)

39. Imperfection. I, pp. 823-4. Sermon LXXX. See ante, No. ^. The ' new philosophy ' is of course the Copernican hypothesis. ' Copernicus' displacement of the earth, and the consequent distur- bance of the accepted mediasval cosmology with its concentric arrangement of elements and heavenly bodies, arrests and disturbs Donne's imagination much as the later geology with its revelation of vanished species and first suggestion of a doctrine of evolution absorbed and perturbed Tennyson when he wrote In Memoriam and throughout his life' (Grierson, Po^w^, ii, pp. 188-9). ^^ ^'^ First Anniversary Donne writes :

And new Philosophy calls all in doubt.

The Element of fire is quite put out ;

The Sun is lost, and th' earth, and no mans wit

Can well direct him where to looke for it.

{Poems, i, p. 237.)

40. Man. I, pp. ^4-5. Sermon VII. ' Preached upon Christmas day.'' Probably 1629 {Spearing).

41. Afflictions. I, pp. 664-5. The Second Prebend Sermon (LXVI). See ante, Nos. 9, 20.

42. Discontent. I, p. 45. Sermon V. 'Preached at Pauls, upon Christmas Day. 1627.'

43. The World a House. I, p. 146. Sermon XV. ' Preached at White-hall, March 8. 1^21' (1622). Coleridge, referring to this extract, writes, ' This is one of Donne's least estimable discourses . . . yet what a Donne-like passage is this that follows ! ' {Coleridge, p. 132).

44. Mundus Mare. I, pp. 735-7. Sermon LXXII. 'At the

Notes. 251

Haghe Decemb. 19. 161 9. I Preached upon this Text [Mat. iv. i8-2o]i Since in my sicknesse at Abrey-hatche in Essex, 1630, revising my short notes of that Sermon, I digested them into these two.' LXXII is the second of these two sermons. Donne arrived with Lord Doncaster (see ante, No. 26) at The Hague in December 161 9. In his will Donne bequeaths to his friend Henry King ' that medal of gold of the synod of Dort which the estates presented me withal at the Hague '. {Gosse, ii, p. 360.)

45. The Indifference of Nature. II, p. 37. Sermon V. 'Preached at a Christning.'

1. 4. * hoise ' is the older form of ' hoist '.

46. Wealth. I, p. 659. ' The first of the Prebend of Cheswicks five Psalmes; which five are appointed for that Prebend; as there are five other, for every other of our thirty Prebendaries. Serm. LXV. Preached at S. Pauls, May 8. 1625.'

47. A London Merchant. I, pp. 824-6. See ante, Nos. 4, 39. Funeral Sermon of Sir William Cokayne, who was Lord Mayor of London, 1619-20 {Diet. Nat. Biog.). He was ' a merchant of great consequence, reputed to be one of the richest men in England. Lady Cokayne's father, Richard Morris, had preceded Donne's father as Master of the Ironmongers' Company.' {Gosse, ii, pp. 237-8.)

p. 78, 1. 7. 'A publique heart '. Publiqiie is here used with the meaning of the later ' public-spirited ', first found in 1677 {N. E. D.).

p. 80, 1. 17. ' this Quire '. It is plain from this, that (as Mr. Gosse remarks) ' the Aldermen of the City had been lately admitted by the Dean and Chapter to seats in the choir of St. Paul's. . . . From this it appears that until that date the choir had, as in Catholic times, been reserved for the clergy ' {Gosse, ii, p. 238).

^tS. Sickness. II, p. 167. Sermon XX. ' Preached at Lincolnslnne.*

49. Public Opinion. I, p. 589. Sermon LVIII. See ante. No. 6.

50. Joy. II, p. 467. Sermon L. * A Servion Preached in Saint Dunstans.'

51. Women. I, pp. 242-3. Sermon XXV. ' Preached at S.Va.uh, upon Easter -day. 1630' (March 28).

52. Cosmetics. I, p. 642. Sermon LXIV. * Preached upon the Penitentiall Psalmes.'

53. The Skin. II, p. 113. Sermon XIV. See ante. No. 3.

54. Mud Walls. II, pp. 168-9. Sermon XX. See a«/^. No. 48.

^S. Ignorance. I, p. 287. Sermon XXIX. ' Preached at S.Vaxxl'i upon Whitsunday. 1628.'

252 Notes.

56. The Imperfection of Knowledge. I, p. 818. Sermon LXXX. See ante, Nos. 4, 39, 4 7.

57. Change of Mind. I, p. 483. Sermon XLVIII. ' Preached at S. Pauls in the Evening, Vpon the day of S. Pauls Conversion. 1628' (January 25, 1629).

58. Reason and Faith. II, pp. 324-7. SermonXXXVI. ^Preached at Saint Pauls tipon Christmasse day, 1621.' In his verse epistle to the Countess of Bedford, Donne writes,

Reason is our Soules left hand. Faith her right. By these wee reach divinity, thats you.

{Poems, i, p. 189; see also p. 267.)

1. I. ' lamps '. In his Epithalamions, xi, Donnfi ■vPrites,

Now, as in Jullias tombe, one lampe burnt cleare, Unchang'd for fifteene hundred yeare,

{Poems, i, p. 140 ; for origin of this legend, see note, ibid., ii, p. 98.) 1. 15. ' vanish it selfe '. In his Litanie, vii, Donne writes.

Let not my minde be blinder by more light Nor Faith, by Reason added, lose her sight.

{Poems, i, p. 340.)

p. 102, 1. II. * blow that coale '. Cf. Devotions, p. 3. ' God, who as hee is immortall himselfe, had put a coale, a beame of Immortahtie into us, which we might have blowen into a flame, but blew it out, by our first sinne.'

59. True Knowledge. I, p. 165. Sermon XVII. 'Preached at White-hall^ March 4. 1624' (1625).

60. Terrible Things. I, pp. 690-2. Sermon LXVIII. See ante, No. 16.

61. The Fate of the Heathen. I, pp. 261-2. Sermon XXVI. ' Preached upon Easter-day.' Probably 1623 {Spearing).

62. The Church a Company. II, p. 469. Sermon L. See No. 50.

63. God Proceeds Legally- II, pp. 230-1. Sermon XXVII. ' Preached to the King, at White-Hall, the first of April, 1627.' Laud, then Bishop of Bath and Wells, was present at this sermon, and seems to have suspected from it that Donne was preparing to support Abbot, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Calvinistic party, in the controversy then under discussion, about Montague's attack on them. Laud wrote to Donne at once commanding a copy of the sermon to be sent to the king, greatly to Donne's dismay. But when Charles I had read the sermon and listened to Donne's explana- tion, he restored him to favour. For Donne's letters about this incident, see Gosje, ii, pp. 243-6. Dr. Jessopp, quoting the end of

Notes. 253

the extract as given in this volume (p. 1 14, I. 28 f.) says, ' after carefully reading the sermon several times, I can find only one passage that may have hurt the prejudices or irritated the susceptibilities of some of the audience as possibly reflecting upon themselves' (Jessopp, p. 188).

1. 7. ' hisse ', misprinted ' kisse ' in folio.

64k. T be Church. I, pp. 369-70. Sermon XXXVII. 'Preached upon Whitsunday.'

p. 116, 1. 13. ' thou art a little world '. Cf. Sacred Sonnets, I am a little world made cunningly Of Elements. [Poems, i, p. 324.)

For this notion, which frequently recurs in Donne, of man as a microcosm, or Httle world, see Ramsay, p. 275.

65. Reverence in Church. II, pp. 470-1. Sermon L. See ante, Nos. 50, 62.

66. Going to Church. I, pp. 35-6. Sermon IV. ' Preached at S. Pauls upon Christmas day. 1626.'

1. 9. ' mocke us '. Coleridge notes ' What then, was their guilt, who by terror and legal penalties tempted their fellow Christians to this treacherous mockery ? Donne should have asked himself that question.' {Coleridge, p. 112.)

67. Prayer. II, p. 366. Sermon XL. See ante, Nos. 12, 17.

68. Prayer. I, p; 522. Sermon LII. 'Preached upon the Peni- tentiall Psalmes.'

1. 8. ' his Sister '. Donne repeats this in his Devotions, p. 255.

69. The Time of Prayer. I, pp. 596-7. Sermon LIX. 'Preached upon the Penitentiall Psalmes.'

p. 123,1. 15. 'the greatest Christian Prince'. The King cf France's title was RoJ tres chretien. Donne was in Paris in 1612 with Sir Robert Drury, but Louis XIII was then only eleven years old. In a letter to Sir Henry Wotton, written in 161 2, Donne refers to a previous visit to France during the Hfetime of Henry IV {Gosse, i, p. 293). The above reference is probably therefore to Henry IV.

p. 124, L 13. ' Bolls ', earHer speUing of * bowls '.

70. At Table and Bed. II, p. 88. Sermon XL ' Preached at Lincolns Inne, preparing them to build their Chappell.' In 161 7, when the foundation-stone of the new chapel was laid. On Ascension Day, 1623 (May 22), Donne preached at the consecration of the chapel his ' Encaenia ' Sermon, which was published in the same year, but has not been reprinted. On May 30 Chamberlain wrote, ' Lin- coln's Inn new chapel was consecrated with much solemnity, by the Bishop of London, on Ascension-day, where there was great

254 Notes.

concourse of noblemen and gentlemen ; whereof two or three were endangered, and taken up dead for the time, with the extreme press and thronging. The Dean of St. Paul's made an excellent sermon, they say, about dedications ' (C. & T. Jas. /, ii, p. 402).

1. 5. ' table '. In an undated letter Donne writes, ' we at our lay altars (which are our tables, or bedside, or stools) '. {Gosse, i, p. 223.)

71. Unconscious Prayer. I, p. 90. Sermon IX. ' Preached upon Candlemas day.' Probably either in 161 7, or 1623 {Spearing).

72. Sermons. I, pp. 1 13-14. Sermon XII. 'Preached upon Candlemas day.''

73. New Doctrines. Ill, p. 4. Sermon I. ' A Lent-Sermon Preached at White-hall, February 20. 1617.' (1618). On February 21 Chamberlain wrote ' Dr. John Donne preached yesterday at White- hall ; but the king was not there, being weary beUke of the former night's watching ' {C. & T. Jas. I, ii, p. 67).

I. 4. ' Resistibility, and Irresistibility of grace '. This was a much disputed point between the Calvinist and Arminian parties ; in 1622 James I forbade any one under the degree of a bachelor of divinity to ' presume to preach in any popular auditory the deep points of predestination, election, reprobation, or of the universality, efficacy, resistibility or irresistiblUty of God's grace ' (Gardiner, History of England, 1603 -1642, iv, p. 347). For Donne's use of these con- troversies in his secular verse, see Poems, ii, p. 46.

74. Papist and Puritan. I, p. 493. Sermon XLIX. 'Preached on the Conversion of S. Paul. 1629 ' (January 25, 1630).

75. Theological Dissensions. 'The First Sermon Preached to King Charles, At Saint lames: 3° April. 1625. .ffy lohn Donne, Deane of Saint Pauls London 1625 ', pp. 12-16. This sermon has never been reprinted. On April 5 Sir William Neve, after describing the removal of James I's body to Denmark House, wrote : ' The King kept privately his bed, or chamber, at St. James's until Sunday last, and then dined abroad, in the privy-chamber, being in plam black cloth cloak to the ancle ; and so went after dinner into the chapel. Dr. Donne preaching. Lord Davers carrying the sword before him, his majesty looking very pale, his visage being the true glass of his inward, as well as his accoutrements of external mourning.' (C. & T. Chas. /, i, pp. 3-4.) Donne's letters show plainly the extreme agitation caused in him by the royal command to preach before the new king. ' Towards the time of the service,' he writes to Sir Robert Ker at Court, ' I ask your leave that I may hide myself in your out- chamber ' ; and in another note he refuses an invitation to dinner, saying 'after the sermon, I will steal into my coach home'. {Gosse, ii, p. 220.)

p. 132, 1. 8. ' Ejulations ', old word for wailing, lamentation.

Notes. 255

76. Despair. II, p. 363. Sermon XXXIX. ' Preached at Saint Pauls.'

77. The Sociableness oj God. II, p. 280. Sermon XXXII. ' Preached to the Earl of Exeter, and his company^ in his Chappell at Saint Johns; 13. Jun. 1624.' William Cecil, son of Thomas Cecil, first Earl of Exeter.

78. God a Circle. I, pp. 13-14. Sermon II. ^ Preached at VthmXs, upon Christmas Day, in the Evening. 1624.'

In a verse-epistle to the Countess of Bedford Donne wrote ' In those poor types of God (round circles) ' [Poems, i, p. 220, and note ii, p. 176). See also Divine Poems, The Annunciation and Passion {ibid., i, p. 334), and Devotions, p. 16, ' O Eternall, and most gracious God, who considered in thy selfe, art a Circle.'

79. God's Mirror. I, pp. 226-7. Sermon XXIII. ' Preached at S. Pauls, /or Easter-day. 1628' (April 13).

80. God's Na7nes. I, p. 670. Sermon LXVI. See ante, Nos. 9, 20, 41-

81. God^s Mercies. I, pp. 12-13. Sermon II. See awrc, No. 78.

1. 13. ' ragges of time'. Donne in his famous poem beginning ' Busie old foole, unruly Sunne ' uses this phrase,

Love, all alike, no season knowes, nor clyme,

Nor houres, dayes, moneths, which are the rags of time.

{Poems, i, p. 11.)

p. 139, 1. 9. ' God made Sun and Moon'. Professor Saintsbury, in quoting this passage, describes it as ' a passage than which I hardly know anything more exquisitely rhythmed in the whole range of English from ^Ifric to Pater. . . . The Shakespearian magnificence of the diction, such as the throng of kindred but never tautological phrase in " wintered and frozen ", etc., and the absolute perfection of rhythmical — never metrical — movement, could not be better wedded. It has, I have said, never been surpassed. I sometimes doubt whether it has ever been equalled ' {A History of English Prose Rhythm, 1912, pp. 162-3).

82. God not Cruel. II, p. 224. Sermon XXVI. See ante, No. 8.

83. The Voice of God. I, p. 465. Sermon XLVI. ' Preached at S. Pauls, The Sunday after the Conversion of S. Paul. 1624.' (January 30, 1625).

84. God's Language. II, pp. 359-60. Sermon XXXIX. See ante, No. 76.

p. 143, 1. 21. * fall into some such sinne '. In 1608 Donne wrote to Sir H. Goodyer, ' when a man is purposed to do a great sin, God

256 Notes.

infuses some good thoughts which make him choose a less sin '. {Gosse, i, p. 190.)

85. GoiTs Anger. II, p. 170. Sermon XX. See ante, Nos. 48, 54.

86. God's Faults. I, pp. 726-7. Sermon LXII. Preached at The Hague. See ante, No. 44.

1. 2. ' quahties and affections of man '. Cf. Devotions, p. 178, ' God is presented to us under many human affections, as far as infirmities : God is called angry, and sorry and weary, and heavy.'

p. 145, 1. 29. ' enormious ' ; obsolete form of ' enormous '.

87. God's Judgements. Ill, pp. 82-3. Sermon VI. ' A Sermon Preached at White-hall, April 21. 1616.' Donne was ordained in January 161 5. His earliest dated sermon that has come down to us was preached before Queen Anne at Greenwich on April 30, 161 5 (the Sermon II, No. XXXV, ascribed to February 21, 161 1, must be wrongly dated). This sermon is the next in date which has been preserved, as was perhaps his first sermon at Court, after his appoint- ment as Chaplain to the King in the summer of 161 5. Izaak Walton says of his first sermon at Whitehall ' though much were expected from him, both by His Majesty and others, yet he was so happy (which few are) as to satisfie and exceed their expectations ' (Walton's Lives, 1670, p. 38). Dr. Jessopp writes of this sermon : ' On the 2ist April 1616 we find Donne preaching at Whitehall just at the time when the horrible revelations connected with the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury were being discussed by every one and were the subject of common talk. The sermon . . . contains some fine passages which the congregation can hardly have helped applying to the dreadful circumstances uppermost in the minds of all ' {Jessopp, p. 1 12). For other passages from this sermon, see also Nos. 105, 108.

1. 19. ' infus'd '. In a verse-epistle of Donne's to Sir Edward Herbert, written in 1610, he says,

As Soules (they say) by our first touch, take in The poysonous tincture of Originall sinne.

(Poems, i, p. 194.)

See also Donne's letter of October 9, 1607 {Gosse, i, p. 176).

88. Terrible Things. I, pp. 701-2. Sermon LXIX. 'The fifth of my Prebend Sermons upon my five Psalmes : Preached at S. Pauls.' On January 28, 1627, Donne preached his fourth prebend sermon (I, LXVIII). The prebend sermons followed one another at intervals of a few months, so this sermon may be safely assigned to 1627 {Spearing).

1. 17. 'spectacle', old use of the singular for 'spectacles'.

89. God's Malediction. II, p. 227. Sermon XXVI. See ante, Nos. 8, 82.

Notes. 257

90. God's Power. 'A Sermon, Preached to the Kings M*'« at Whitehall, 24 Febr. 1625. By lohn Donne Deane of Saint Pauls, London. And now by his Maiestes commandmetit Published.' London, 1626, pp. 16-18. This sermon was re-issued in Five Sermons, but has not been reprinted since.

91. Access to God. I, pp. 500-1. Sermon L. ' Preached upon the Penitentiall Psalmes.'

92. The Image oj God in Man. ' The Second Sermon preached before King Charles, Upon the xxvi verse of the first Chapter of Genesis. By Dr. Donne Dean of Pauls ' (Cambridge, 1634), pp. 22-3. In Six Sermons, No. II ; reprinted 11, No. XXIX. This is evidently a continuation of II, No. XXVIII, which was preached to the King in April 1629, on the same text {Spearing). For the origin of the idea in this extract, see Ramsay, p. 229.

93. Man God's Enemy. II, p. 372. Sermon XL. See ante, Nos. 12, 17, 67.

1. 5. ' as the Mouse is to the Elephant '. See Donne's Progresse of the Soule, 11. 381-91 {Poems, i, pp. 310-11, and note, II, p. 223).

94. The Atheist. I, p. 486. Sermon XL VIII. See ante, No. 57.

95. The Angels. II, p. 7. Sermon I. See ante. No. 10.

96. The Devil. I, pp. 65-6. Sermon VII. See ante, No. 40. Miss Ramsay has collected many passages from Donne's sermons on the important question of the possible salvation of the Devil. {Ramsay, p. 210 f.)

97. The Creation. II, p. 280. Sermon XXXII. See ^m/^, No. 77.

98. The Heavens and Earth. Six Sermons. I, pp. 1-3. 'Two Sermons preached before King Charles, Upon the xxvi verse of the first Chapter of Genesis.' Reprinted, II, No. XXVIII. ' Preached to the King, at the Court in April, 1629.'

99. The Creation of a Harmonious World. Ill, p. 20. Sermon II. ' A Lent-Sermon Preached at White-hall, February 12. 1618 ' (1619).

L 3. ' an Instrument, perfectly in tune '. In his Obsequies to the Lord Harrington (1614) Donne begins :

Faire soule, which wast, not onely, as all soules bee, Then when thou wast infused, harmony. But did'st continue so ; and now dost beare A part in Gods great organ, this whole Spheare :

{Poems, i, p. 271.)

100. God and Adam and Eve. * A Sermon Upon the xxii verse of the V Chapter of John. By D"'* Donne Dean of Pauls ' (Cambridge,

J025-3 s

2S8

Notes.

1634), pp. 9-10. This Sermon is No. V of the Six Sermons \ re- printed, II, No. XII. ' Preached at Lincolns Inne.'

I. 9. ' Shall we ', ' Shall we not ' in original quarto, and folio.

101. The World since the Fall. II, p. 223. Sermon XXVI. See ante, Nos. 8, 82, 89. .

102. Silkworms. II, p. 143. Sermon XVII. ^ Preached at Lincolns Inne.^

lOZ. Original Sin. II, pp. 187-8. Sermon XXII. ' Preached at Lincolns Inne.'

104. Original Sin. Ill, p. 183 (Bb 4). Sermon XIII. ' A Sermon Preached at White-hall, April 19. 1618.'

105. The Heart of the Sinner. Ill, pp. 86-7. Sermon VI. Donne's first sermon at Court. See ante, No. 87.

106. Light Sins. I, p. 164. Sermon XVII. See ante, No. 59. p. 171, 1. 8. ' gad ' is an old word for ' spike '.

107. The Sin of Reason. Ill, pp. 89-92. Sermon VII. 'A Sermon Preached at White-hall, Novemb. 2. 161 7.'

p. 173,1. 15- ' covercling ', Alford's emendation of 'coveraling' in the folio, from the 0I4 word found in Chaucer, ' covercle ', a cover, a lid. But the Bodleian copy of the folio has the correction * conceahng ' in a contemporary hand.

\0S. Delight in Evil. Ill, pp. 84-5. Sermon VI. See anr^,Nos. 87, 105.

109. Excuses. I, p. 390. Sermon XXXIX. * Preached upon Trin ity-Sunday. '

110. Rebuke of Sin. II, pp. 74-5. Sermon X. ' Preached at the Churching of the Countess of Bridgewater.' Frances, daughter of Ferdinand Stanley, Earl of Derby. See note on No. 10.

111. Names of Sins. I, p. 584. Sermon LVIII. See ante, Nos. 6, 49.

112. Pride. I, p. 730. Sermon LXXII. Preached at The Hague. See ante, Nos. 44, 86.

p. 181, 1. 5. * boast of theirsinnes '. Ci. Devotions, p. 24.0. 'There are many sins, which we glorie in doing, and would not do, if no body should know them.'

113. Covetousness. I, pp. 714-15. Sermon LXX. * Preached at White-hall, April 8. 1621.'

p. 1 83, 1. 8. ' not thimbles ' in the folio. Corrected to ' but ' by Alford.

Wi, Blasphemy. I, pp. 343-4. Sermon XXXV. Preached upon Whitsunday.

Notes. 259

115. The Burden of Sin. II, pp. 193-4. Sermon XXIII.

* Preached at Lincolns Inne.'

116. The Sinner. I, p. 634. Sermon LXIII. ' Preached upon the Penitentiall Psalmes.'

117. The Sorrows of the Wicked. I, p. 631. Sermon LXIII. See ante, No. 116.

118. The Sins of Memory. II, pp. 462-3. Sermon XLIX. 'A Sermon Preached at Saint Dunstan's upon New-years-day, 1624.'

119. The Eye of God. II, pp. 336-7. Sermon XXXVII. 'Preached at St. Pauls on Midsommer day. 1622.'

120. The World Drowned in Sin. I, pp. 365-6. Sermon XXXVII-

* Preached upon Whitsunday.''

12,1. The Hand of God. I, p. 579. Sermon LVII. ' Preached upon the Penitential] Psalmes.'

122. The Sick Soul. II, p. 169. Sermon XX. See ante, No. 48.

123. Sleep. I, p. 129. Sermon XIII. ' Preached in Lent, to the King. April 20. 1630.' This date must be a mistake, as Easter fell on March 28 in 1630 (Spearing).

A few sentences, too outspoken for modern reprinting, have been omitted from this extract.

p. 195, 1. 2. 'thy metaphoricall, thy quotidian grave*. Cf. Meditations, p. 44, * every nights bed is a type of the grave '.

1. 5. ' lobs Snow water '. See Job ix. 30.

124. The Gate of Death. Ill, pp. 294-5. Sermon XX. ' Two Sermons, to the Prince and Princess Palatine, the Lady Elizabeth, at Heydelberg when I was commanded by the King to wait upon my L. of Doncaster in his Embassage to Germany. First Sermon as we went out, ]une 16. 1619.' The other sermon has not been preserved. The Ambassador and his party arrived on June 10 at Heidelberg, the capital of the Elector Palatine (afterwards King of Bohemia) who had married the Lady Elizabeth, daughter of James I. Donne's epithalamlon beginning ' Halle Bishop Valentine, whose day this is ', was written for the marriage of the Lady Elizabeth. {Poems, i, p. 127.)

I. 4. * glad of that ', read ' be glad of that '. P. 294 of the folio ends ' becaus he knows ' with ' that ' as catchword ; p. 295 begins

* be that is ' with ' glad ' as the first word of the second line. The

* be ' has been printed at the beginning of the first line Instead of the second. It may be noted that ' glad ' Is found In Elizabethan English In the old sense ' be glad ', ' rejoice ', but ' is glad ' in 1. 2 is against its use in this sense here.

125. Our Prison. I, p. 267. Sermon XXVII. * Preached to the

26o Notes.

LL. upon Easter-day, at the Communion, The King being then danger- ously sick at New-Market.'' In 1619. 'On the 28th March 1619, being Easter Day, he was called upon to preach before the Lords at a time of great public anxiety. Queen Anne of Denmark had died on the first of the month, and James I, after taking his leave of his Consort, had gone to Newmarket. Here he had himself fallen seriously ill, and on the day when Donne preached at Whitehall, he was reported to be " dangerously sick " ' (Jessopp, p. 124).

126. All must Die. I, pp. 147-9. Sermon XV. ^Preached at White-hall, March 8. 1621 ' (1622).

p. 198,1. 14. 'The ashes of an Oak '. Coleridge quotes the passage that follows, adding, ' Very beautiful indeed '. (Coleridge, p. 130.)

p. 199, 1. 13. 'Spittles', i.e. spitals or hospitals.

1. 16. ' when I lye '. Coleridge quotes this passage also, remarking, ' This is powerful ; but is too much in the style of the monkish preachers : Papam redolet. Contrast with this Job's description of death, and St. Paul's sleep in the Lord' {ibid., p. 131).

127. Death Inevitable. II, p. 270. Sermon XXX. ' Preached to the Countesse of Bedford, then at Harrington house. January 7. 1620 ' (1621). For Donne's friendship with Lucy, Countess of Bedford, who, as Professor Grierson says, ' occupies the central place among Donne's noble patrons and friends ', see Poems,'n, p. 152. A study of the Countess of Bedford's life, with that of the other ladies who patronized the Elizabethan poets, would be of considerable interest for the light it would throw on the social background of the age of Shakespeare — a subject about which we have really very little information.

I. 2. 'Ecce\ short for ' Ecce signum\ P. 201, 1. 5, 'echoes' is apparently a mistake for ' ecces '.

1. 19. sent, old form of ' scent '.

p. 201, 1. 5. ' that Temple ', printed * this Temple ' in some copies of the folio ; in others, ' the Temple '.

128. The Expectation of Death. Ill, p. 13. Sermon I. See ante. No. 73.

129. The Death-bed. ' A Sermon Upon the xliiii verse of the xxi Chapter of Matthew. By D""- Donne Dean of Pauls ' (Cambridge, MDCXXXIIII, pp. 5-6). In Six Sermons, No. IV. Reprinted, II, No. XXXV, where it is dated ' February 21. 161 1 ' — plainly an error, as Donne was ordained in 161 5.

130. The Death of Ecstasy. I, pp. 273-4. Sermon XXVII. See ante, No. 125. Professor Grierson quotes this passage, remarking, ' This is the highest level that Donne ever reached in eloquence inspired by the vision of the joy and not the terror of the Christian iaith '. {Poems, ii, p. llv. See also Ramsay, p. 260 f.)

Notes. 261

131. The Dead with Us. I, pp. 219-20. Sermon XXII. See ante, No. 2.

p. 204, 1. 18. 'into another Land'. In 1629 Donne wrote to Mrs. Cockain, consoling her for the death of her son, ' Since I am well content to send one son to the Church, the other to the Wars, why should I be loth to send one part of either son to heaven and the other to the earth .-' ' {Gosse, ii, p. 261).

132. Mourning. I, pp. 157-8. Sermon XVI. 'Preached at White-hall, the first Friday in Lent. 1622 ' (February 28, 1623).

1. 21. 'Authors of a middle nature'. 'A whimsical instance of the disposition in the mind for every pair of opposites to find an intermediate, — a mesothesis for every thesis and antithesis. Thus Scripture may be opposed to philosophy ; and then the Apocryphal books will be philosophy relatively to Scripture, and Scripture relatively to philosophy.' {Coleridge, p. 135.)

133. A Quiet Grave. I, p. 463. Sermon XLVI. See ante, No. 83. 1. 12. 'Quillet'. A beautiful old word, now only in local or

antiquarian use, for a small plot or narrow strip of land.

134. Eternal Datnnation. I, pp. 776-7. Sermon LXXVI. ' Preached to the Earle of Carhle, and his Company, at Sion.' Probably after 1622, when Donne's friend, Viscount Doncaster, was created Earl of Carlisle {Spearing).

This passage, on the ground that Marston also wrote sermons, which have perished, while those of Donne have been preserved, is quoted by Mr. A. H. Bullen, in his introduction to The Works of John Marston, 1887, i, pp. Hx-lx. I must express my debt to Mr. Bullen, for although two folios of Donne's Sermons had stood for years on my bookshelves, it was not until I read this extract in his Marston, that it occurred to me that it might be interesting to read them.

p. 209, 1. 28. ' standing, and knocking '. Cf. Holy Sonnets, xiv : Batter my heart, three person'd God ; for you As yet but knocke. {Poems, i, p. 328.)

135. Death of the Good and the Bad Man. Ill, pp. 217-18. Sermon XV. See ante. No. 18.

136. The Northern Passage. I, p. 463. Sermon XLVI. See ante, Nos. 83, 133.

137. The Resurrection. I, p. 257. Sermon XXVI. See ante. No. 61.

138. The Awakening. I, p. 263. Sermon XXVI. See ante, Nos. 61, 137.

139. The Resurrection of the Body. II, p. 3. Sermon I. See ante, Nos. 10, 95. In an undated letter, probably written in 1612, in which

262 Notes.

Donne wrote begging some favour of Lord Rochester, he says, ' And since good divines have made this argument against deniers of the Resurrection, that it is easier for God to unite the principles and elements of our bodies, howsoever they be scattered, than it was at first to create them out of nothing, I cannot doubt but that any distractions or diversions in the ways of my hopes will be easier to your Lordship to reunite than it was to create them '. (Gosse, ii, p. 23.)'

140. Tbe Last Day. II, p. 343. Sermon XXXVII. See ante, No. 119.

1^1. The Day oj Judgement. I, p. 371. Sermon XXXVII. See ante, No. 120. 1. 14. * for thy sins *. Cf. A Hytnne to God the Father, ii,

Wilt thou forgive that sinne which I have wonne Others to sinne ? and, made my sinne their doore ?

{Poems, i, p. 369.)

142. Joy. I, pp. 672-3. Sermon LXVI. The Second Prebend Sermon. See ante, Nos. 9, 20, 41, 80.

143. The Joy of Heaven. Ij p. 75- Sermon VII. See anr^, No. 40.

144. Little Stars. Six Sermons, II, pp. 9, 10. See ante. No. 92.

145. Heirs of Heaven. I, p. 340. Sermon XXXIV. See ante, No. 1.

146. Seeing God. I, pp. 230-1. Sermon XXIII. See an/f , No. 79. 1. I. Speculum. This is an earlier instance of speculum for mirror

or reflector than the one given in the N. E. D. (1646).

147. The Sight of God. II, p. 117. Sermon XIV. See ante, Nos. 3, 53.

148. The State of Glory. Six Sermons, II, pp. 36-8, Reprinted II, p. 261. See ante, Nos. 92, 144.

149. Immortality. The Chelsea Sermon, pp. 106-18. See ante, No. 28. Reprinted in Alford, vi, pp. 265-7.

150. Knowledge in Heaven. Ill, pp. 389-90. Sermon XXV. 'A Sermon Preached at the Spittle Upon Easter-Munday, 1622' (April 22). The ' Spittle * was the old priory of St. Mary Spital, Bethnal Green, where there was a pulpit Cross, something like St. Paul's Cross, where sermons on the Resurrection were preached in the afternoons of Easter Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.

151. Eternity. I, p. 266. Sermon XXVI. See ante. No. 61.

152. Eternity. II, p. 413. Sermon XLIV. 'Preached at St. Pauls Cro55e, Novemb. 22, 1629.' 'The preaching of this sermon overtaxed Donne's failing strength ; for when Christmas day came

Notes. 263

he was, for the first time, unable to appear In the pulpit of St. Pauls.' {Jessopp, p. 200.)

153. Eternity. I, pp. 747-8. Sermon LXXIII. See a«re, No. 1 1.

15i. Joy in Heaven. II, pp. 473-4. Sermon L. See ame, Nos. 50, 62, 65.

155. Donne's Last Sermon. ' Deaths Duell, or, A Consolation to the Soule, against the dying Life, and liuing Death of the Body. Deliuered in a Sermon at White Hall, before the Kings Maiesty, in the beginning of Lent, 1 630 [163 1]. By that late learned and Reuerend Diuine, lohn Donne, D""' in Diuinity, & Deane of S. Pauls, London. Being his last Sermon, and called by his Maiesties housbold The Doctors owne Funerall Sermon' (London, 1632), pp. 5-6, 9-12, 20. This sermon was reprinted in the third folio, No. XXVI.

p. 239, 1. 2. ' flesh'. This is the reading in the folio for * hesta' in the'quarto.

p. 240, 1. 30. ' state '. ' State ' is used here in the old sense of * canopy '. Cf. Paradise Lost, x. 445 :

Ascended his high Throne, which under state Of richest texture spred, at th' upper end Was plac't in regal lustre.

The devices on the back and front of the cover represent Donne'' s family seal {a sheaf of snakes) and the seal designed for himself {Christ crucified on an anchor).

To M*" George Herbert, with one of my Seals, of the Anchor and Christ.

A Sheafe of Snakes used heretofore to be My Seal, The Crest of our poore Family. Adopted in Gods Family, and so Our old Coat lost, unto new armes I go. The Crosse (my seal at Baptism) spred below, Does, by that form, into an Anchor grow. Crosses grow Anchors ; Bear, as thou shouldst do Thy Crosse, and that Crosse grows an Anchor too. But he that makes our Crosses Anchors thus. Is Christ, who there is crucifi'd for us. Yet may I, with this, my first Serpents hold, God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old ; The Serpent, may, as wise, my pattern be ; My poison, as he feeds on dust, that 's me. And as he rounds the Earth to murder sure, My death he is, but on the Crosse, my cure. Crucifie nature then, and then implore All Grace from him, crucified there before ; When all is Crosse, and that Crosse Anchor grown. This Seal 's a Catechism, not a Seal alone. Under that little Seal great gifts I send. Wishes, and prayers, pawns, and fruits of a friend. And may that Saint which rides in our great Seal, To you, who bear his name, great bounties deal.

From Izaak Walton's Life of Donne.

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