THese words are a part of a prayer, that prayer of a story, a story almost as me­morable as any, that was ever yet left upon re­cord since the creation of man, and that is the destruction of So­dom: upon which God indeed commanded the wife of Lot not to look back, Vers. 17. and her hard heart of unbelief and disobedience trans­formed her into a pillar of stone; so that she, that on Gods bidding would not goe, when she would, should now stand, stand an eter­nall [Page 2]monument of Gods dis­pleasure against the children of disobedience.

Let it not awaken your won­der, that where the Text sayes a Pillar of Salt, I say of Stone. It is consonant to reason, and the generall voyce of interpreters, that it was Salt rather, quoad spe­ciem, quam naturam specific am, rather in resemblance of the graine then identitie of the na­ture: else would it never have lasted through so many ages and yeers to Iosephus his time,Iosephus. Antiquit. Iud. lib. 11. nam extat. (inquit) ho­die quoque. who tels us that in his time there was still extant such a Stone, which tradition gave out to be this though then of one Stone it was become two monuments, one of Gods anger against the Wife of Lot, and the second of Times de­vouring teeth, which had delt with this as with many other monuments, whose antiquitie we reade by not reading them, and guesse at their age and stand­ing [Page 3]by our neither reading nor understanding of them.

But of this, we are most cer­tain, she was punished for diso­beying, and her disobedience was in looking back towards So­dom, when God had forbidden her.Luk. 17. 32. But what was to her forbid­den is to us commanded to look back upon Sodom. 2 Pet. 2. 6.

All judgements are more for pub­like example then private revenge, and whatsoever was written, Rom. 15. 4. was written for our instruction. Yea and sure by the qualitie of the judgement, God meant it for publike notice, and therefore God sent a flaming judgement, that all eyes might see it, and by the light of it reade his just and fearefull indignation against im­penitent sinners: a flaming judge­ment that it might be the world's Beacon to rouze and startle snor­ting securitie, to awaken to re­pentance and detestation of sin: a flaming judgement, that men in [Page 4]this might see a glimce of hell, and in this temporarie foresee, and foreseeing feare, and fearing prevent another which is eter­nall.

Look then back yee penitent and weeping soules, and judge whether is better, to be bathing in those teares, or frying in those flames.

Look back impenitent and re­lentlesse wretches, and let your hearts (frozen in the Lees and and Dregs of sinne) melt and thaw at those flames, and let the horror of so prodigious a judge­ment, work the like effect on you, as on the Wife of Lot to transforme you, that it may be true of you, which was of Nabal, at the tydings of his wife Abgail, that his heart dyed within him and became as a Stone. 1 Sam. 25. 37. 1 Sam. 25. 37.

Look then back and behold prodigions sinne requited with prodigious punishment; unna­turall lust kindled with the fire [Page 5]of hell, punished with fire that against nature rained from heaven. In this behold the severity of God: with no lesse wonder behold his Mercy. Though for one righte­ous mans sake, he will not spare Sodom, yet for Sodom will be not destroy one righteous man. In this Citie, which was all chaffe and therefore fit fewell for the fire, there was but one sheafe the familie of Lot, yet God will not destroy that,Mat. 3.12. but graciously as he promiseth in his holy Gos­pel, sends his Angels to hinde it together and lay it in the Garner of safety, when he burnes the chaffe with fire unquenchable.

Behold the riches of Gods good­nesse: Rom. 2.4. he might without the least taxe of his justice have destroyed Lot, who was not so righteous but God might have beheld mat­ter of anger in him. He can never want in mans wickednesse a pa­tronage and defence of his own justice, and though he cannot [Page 6]finde in the worst of men so much goodnesse as may merit the least blessing; yet he cannot misse to finde in the best of men so much evill as may merit the grea­test punishment.

Notwithstanding that good God which is never exceptiously apprehensive of mans infirmitie, nor uses the advantage of our weaknesse to shew the greatnesse of his power in punishing but mercy in delivering: yea though he (I say) doe sometimes make his temporarie judgements (like his common favours the Sunne and raine) to fall with equall indiffe­rencie on the just and unjust: Matth. 5.45. yet more often and that especially in notorious and exemplary judge­ments, the good mans singular pietie shall finde a singular pre­servation: and when wrath and judgement (like an universall deluge) shall sweepe away a na­tion, nay a world of wicked men, God shall build the righ­teous [Page 7]an Arke of safety: and he that like the Widowed Turtle singly mourned when all else generally rejoyced in the plea­sures of sin, shall when all howle in the bitternesse of torment, singly rejoyce for his owne par­ticular deliverance.

A voyce was heard (as Taci­tus tels us) Audita major humanae vox, Tacit. hist. lib. 5. excedere Deos. Here was more then a voyce, the presence of Angels, more then their pre­sence, a zealous fervour and ear­nestnesse, more then an earnest­nesse, a sacred violence to save Lot. While he lingred (saith vers. 16.) the men laid hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand of his two daughters, the Lord being mercifull unto him, and they brought him forth and set him without the Citie.

Vers. 17. And it came to passe when they had brought him forth a­broad, that he said, Escape for thy life, look not behinde thee, neither [Page 8]stay thou in all the plaine: escape to the mountaine least thou be con­sumed. Where come in the words of my text; And Lot said unto them, ô not so my Lord: Behold now thy servant hath found grace in thy sigh, &c.

The words then you see are a prayer, in which observe the two naturall parts of every prayer, thankesgiving and petition.

1. Thankesgiving in these words, Behold now thy servant hath found grace in thy sight, and thou hast magnified thy mercie, which thou hast shewed unto me in saving of my life.

The Petition in the rest of the words.

In the thankesgiving observe.

• First the order of it.
• Secondly the matter of it.

1 First the order, that he makes the former sence of Gods ante­cedent favour, the first and best argument to obtain a subsequent request; Be pleased to learne an [Page 9]holy policie;

That gratitude is the best pro­logue to a request, and a thank­full acknowledgement of a fa­vour received, the best way to obtaine another desired.

We send forth our prayers, of­tentimes as Noab bis Dove, and both returne emptie;Gen. 8.9. the Dove because all the earth was covered with water, and our prayers be­cause all former favours are drowned in our forgetfulnesse and ingratitude. We are so trans­ported with the immoderate de­sire of the things we want, that usually we forget what we have.

Odiosum sanè hominum genus officia exprobrantium, Citero, qua (saith Cicero) commemorare debet is in quem collata sunt, non commemo­rare qui contulit. The remem­brance of curtesies done, sounds odiously in the mouth of the gi­ver, but gracefully becomes the mouth of the receiver, and to a free ingenuous nature shall not [Page 10]onely not be a check, that it shall prove a spur to a second bounty.

I might here then in the au­thoritie of Lot's example, be bold to reprove the customary formes of many mens prayers, in which petition ingrosses the whole length of their prayers and strength of their devotion, while they (either as no part) exclude thankesgiving, or (as to a lesse ne­cessary part) give it the last and least place, even the expiration of their zeale and prayer. Yet thus it is that like the daughters of the horse-leech: Prov. 30.50. we are still cry­ing give, give; or like the Gud­geons ever gaping to be fed, but our food obtain'd, stops our mouthes; not a word heard in way of thankfulnesse. As if the things which were worth so much importunitie when reque­sted, were not worth acknow­ledgement when obtained.

But from the order of his thank. I come to the matter of it, [Page 11]in which observe these 4 parts.

• 1. A gift bestowed, life.
• 2. The subject or object on whom, righteous Lot.
• 3. The impulsive or moving cause, grace and mercie.
• 4. The quantitie or extent of that mercie, great, in this word magnified.

A temporall blessing, life, be­stowed on a righteous man; yet Gods great grace and mercie ac­knowledged to be the onely cause, yeilds us this conclusion;

That even temporary bles­sings bestowed on the best of men, are of Gods free grace and great mercie, and not at all of mans merit. Or briefly,

The best of men cannot merit the worst of blessings. I might easily prove it, and as easily dis­prove the saucie boldnesse of those Romish dreamers, who be­sides the Ladder of Iacob, Gen. 28.12. Christ Iesus, (whose humanitie stood on earth and his divinitie rea­ched [Page 12]unto heaven) have found another ladder, even of their owne merits: a ladder that hath not onely perfection of parts but of degrees too, degrees by which they can climbe heaven. Such a one that good Patriarch never saw, never dream'd of, neper som­nium quidem. Nor we need we indeed a better argument against them then their owne arrogance, which doth alwayes beare wit­nesse against it self, and proves those things wanting which it brags to be owner of.Luk. 18.11. Let these Pharisees then vaunt themselves to be higher and neerer heaven then other men, but it may well be thought that rather the light­nesse of their opinion, then reall and solide truth lifts them up to this height, that they think them­selves highest, neerest heaven,Psal. 138.6. yet God that is in heaven beholdeth them a farre off.

Let us rather imitate the humilitie of the truly good man, [Page 13]whose prayers are so farre from that odious theam of assuming merit, that none so much, none so frequent in imploring mercy.

But this point being Polemi­call, let me leave it to the Lords worthies, and hast to the second part of my text, Lots petition, which is;

• 1. First Negative, ô not so my Lord.
• 2. Secondly Affirmative, ô let me escape thither, that is to Zoar: either part backed with a seeming shew and strength of reason. First of the Negative.

And the reason of that is à difficultate conditionis praescriptae, the difficultie of the task impo­sed, I cannot; proved by a pro­sillogisme, Ne fortè aliquod malum capiat & moriar, least some evill take me and I dye. Evill behinde me, before me, with me, be­hinde me from Sodom, before me, in the disconsolate solitari­nesse of an unfrequented moun­tain; [Page 14]in solitariness no company, or company worse then beasts or men: least I be devoured by wilde beasts, or rob'd by theeves who are wilde men: or if I be secure from the danger of fire be­hinde me, of the mountaine be­fore me, yet I cannot for the evill with me, the length of the way, therefore I cannot escape to the mountaine, ne fortè aliquod malum capiat & moriar, least some evill take me and I dye.

Next followes the Affirmative request, where observe.

• 1. First the order of it.
• 2. Secondly the matter of it.

1. The order, that it comes in under the Lee and shelter of his arguments, and is set downe in a close and Cryphick method, as though indeed it came in by a strong and undoubted conse­quence, and rather by way of a necessary conclusion then an humble petition. Behold now. (sayes Lot) this Citie, &c. O let [Page 15]me escape thither, viz. to Zoar.

2. Lots Arguments to enforce his request are, 1. à re, and 2. ae personâ.

From the thing requested or 1 the requester himself.

1. Are, from the thing re­quested, and that, first qualitate, the qualitie of it, secondly quan­titate, the quantitie of it.

• 1. First qualitate, and for qualitie its a Citie.
• 2. Secondly quantitate the quantitie and that, first Viae, or secondly Termini.

• 1. Viae, for the quantitie of the way, it is neer.
• 2. Termini, tis little: And now having sent before these Arguments as Iacob bis three bands,
  Gen 32.19 and 31.
  to mediate for the accep­tance of his request, heere fol­lowes the petition it self like Ia­cob halting: and needs must it halt, that in a worse manner wrestles with, nay against God in an unlawfull request; Oreci­piam [Page 16]me illuc, O let me escape thi­ther: nonne parvula eft? is it not a little one? The same Argument by an Elegant Epanalepsis and interrogation againe repeated, as though he reposed a great deale of confidence in the smalnesse of the Citie, and by so easie, so facile a request, would challenge God (as it were) of unkindnesse, to deny him so poore a boone as a little one, yet of great and maine consequence, as much as my life and safety is worth, and my soule shall live, which is

The last Argument from him selfe requesting, my soule shall live, which may have a double meaning, either in opposition to the danger of the mountaine, as if he should say, in the mountaine my life is many wayes hazzarded, but in this Citie it is secured: or it may be expounded of his con­tent here, my soule shall live, it will be a favor which will afford me much content and felicitie.

Thus having as Dido with her Oxe-hide,Virgil. cut the words into pieces, I have inclosed a large and spacious ground, wherein I intend (by Gods assistance) to build my ensuing discourse, and first of the Negative petition.

O not so my Lord.

The Angels (as you may reade before Vers. 16.) had wrestled with Lot's dulnesse,Gen. 19.16. and with a sacred violence of love and mercy carried Lot and set him without the Gates of Sodom, there bid him and them with him escape to the mountaine and live. Timor adde­ret alas. You might imagine that feare (if his obedi­ence halted) would lend him wings to flye to the mountaine, that his danger might have made him have trespassed against his good manners, to have begun his journey before the Angel ended his speech.

Quid statis? nolunt. Horat. Ser­mo. lib. 1. Sat. 1. atquilicet esse beatis.

Behold a new delay from his [Page 18]unwillingnesse, a new dialogue and direction from his better wisedome!Quid causae est merito, quinillis Iu­piter ambas Iratus inflet buccas, ne­quese fore posthac Tam facilem di­cat, votis ut praebeat aurem? Horat. ibid. O not unto the moun­taine—quid causae est merito? &c.

How justly might God cease to strive with him, and let him perish, who would thus contend against his own safety? But God that is of infinite mercie, will descend to mans owne conditi­ons for mans owne safety.

Rather then Lot shall be de­stroyed, the strength of God will be overcome by mans weaknesse, His wisedome be directed by mans folly: nay rather then Lot shall be destroyed, God will use a loving violence, nay will even suffer violence, let his owne command be violated, mans will be established. Lot shall doe what he will, so he will be saved, pre­scribe God any conditions; make God remit of his Iustice against them of Zoar, which He would have destroyed, that He may [Page 19]extend his mercie to Lot, whom He will save.

But this mercie of God belong­ing more naturally to the verse where the Angel even to the wonder of patience accepts him even concerning this request also, Gen. 19.21. I will therefore no longer insist upon it, but onely make the Act of Gods mercie, lead me to the object of it mans perversenesse, in Lots reply, One sic quaeso Do­mine mi, O not so my Lord.

Man's a froward and perverse creature, one whom nothing can please, one whom any thing can­not but displease: that can nei­ther want his wishes with pati­ence, nor enjoy them with con­tent, but with equall repining and discontent both expects and attaines; in all varietie of his desires being ever constant in his old dislike, and the beginning of new wishes. It must be there­fore a patience no lesse then in­finite that can beare with his [Page 20]petulancie and folly. How dis­quietly doth he tumble and tosse, like the troubled Sea, with every winde of report? every whisper of danger disquiets him, and plowes up the levell of his peace unto the furrowed wrinkles of forrow and discontent.

God in his first Creation went through all the creatures, and looking upon each Species seve­rally saw that they were good. Gen. 1.31. Man in his corruption lookes upon all the creatures, and sees some­thing that is bad in them. Adam had a divine knowledge to name all the creatures, Gen. 2.20. we sonnes of Adam a diabolicall knowledge to nickname all the creatures. All our skill is become like the lear­ning of these latter times meere Criticisme, so that in this faire volumne of creation, in every classe of the creatures, where we might behold digitum Dei, the hand of God pointing at some curious text, that volumne have [Page 21]we fild with our owne Asteriskes and Errata's, and where a can­did censure might of every thing make a good construction and take all in a faire sence, the ma­lignitie of our wit will alter it with some idle conjecture, and though to the fullest period sub­scribe a—nonnulla deside­rantur.

There have been, and I doubt are yet some of Plinie his Schol­lers, who would be Gods teachers, who had they been present when God was creating the world, could have corrected the divine Ideas, and taught him how to have made all things in better number, order and measure.

Since our first parents tasting the forbidden fruit; we their off­spring distast the best things. The devill then promised a deitie for eating, and indeed we can men­tiri Deum, we have a mock-di­vinitie, that let God make what he will with never so much ex­actnesse, [Page 22]we can finde a fault with it; speak the most plaine and powerfull truth, we can question it: deale never so justly, we can taxe him for it: never so mercifully we can distast it: like Lucian's Momus that being cal­led to judge of the excellence of those master-peeces which the Gods made,Lucian. an horse, an house, and a man, found fault with all three: that the horse had not hornes, the house motion, and the man a window to look into his breast.

As in the creation, so in the whole course of Gods provi­dence, all Gods actions fall un­der the censure of mans froward­nesse.Non etenim cunctis plac­ceat vel Iu­piter ipse, Nec mittens pluviam nec cohibens plu­viam. Prov. Graec.

Whether it raine or not, all are not content.

Tis even a taske of divinitie to please man; not that this [Page 23]argues any weaknesse in Gods power, who can doe all things, but a wickednesse in mans nature that will be pleased with no­thing. Not only the harder por­tion of afflicton, but even the best of his favours we entertaine with some dislike, and Criticise with a froward curiositie upon the choycest of his favours. Nay if God should give us all things in the world, and not content over and beside all, all would be as nothing, but so farre from satiating the unlimited desire of mans appetite, or setling his thoughts in a quiet comp sed­nesse that they would prove but a varietie of vexation to him, he would be pinched in that plentie, and starv'd in that varietie: yea when God had done all to please him, he should heare the voyce of his discontent screaking in that harsh and unpleasing note, O ne sic quae so Domine mi, O, not so my Lord, &c.

It is an opinion of the Pytha­goreans & Platonists, Aristo. de Caelo lib. 2. cap. 9 that the heavens by the revolutions of their orbs produce a most melo­dious and divine harmonie, and that as they are the measures of naturall time, so they keep an harmonious time. He pawne no faith upon it, that those Orbs are the great Organ to that higher quire of Archangels, Angels and glorified Saints that sing Hallelu­jahs to him that sitteth on the throne for ever and ever. Rev. 4.13. But, sure I am, there is not more of various har­mony there, then there is hereof unpleasing discord: so that were it possible with Scipio in his dreame, Cic. Somni­um Scipio­nis. from heaven to behold the earth (at that distance like a Mole-hill) and men like little Ants busie in the eager prosecu­tion of their unquiet desires, so to heare all the ejaculations and prayers of mortalls, we should not see so much varietie of tu­multuous motion, as we should [Page 25]heare of distast and passion. What murmurs, complaints, re­pinings: what clamorous fro­wardnesse, harshnesse, whining tuchinesse should we heer? How many notes of discontent and passion harshly grate upon our eares, and a world full of ne sic quaeso's, not soes, not so my Lord: all unquiet, and in all and every condition and estate a generall distast and frowardnesse, one praying for that which another prayes against, one desiring that which another execrates, and e­very one envying the condition of other, weary and complai­ning of their own, and both and all, in their disagreeing wishes, agreeing in this harsh and unpleasing note. O ne sic quaeso, Domine mi, O not so my Lord.

You will not wonder at the poore Gally-slave, who is forced under the rigid exaction of a cruell master, at each tug to wrack nature, to the height of [Page 26]her endevour, and with his pain­ting sighes and drops of sweat to wrestle with, nay overcome the opposition of windes and waves, if you heare from this miserable wretch, vented amongst his sighes, Ne sic quaeso, Domine mi, O not so my Lord.

You will not wonder that the poore labourer that car­ries the price of his bread upon his forehead, and is forced to make the wheele turne with no other Oyle then his own sweat, if you heare the same from him.

Nor will you wonder at the poore wretch, that lyes gasping in the Suburbs of death (whose gasping 'tis hard to say whether it be to take in or let goe the poore remainder of his breath) you will not wonder if he, cast downe upon the hard bed of af­fliction, in a discontented fro­wardnesse rebound againe, like a stone toward the hand that cast him, with his Ne sic quaeso, Domine [Page 27]mi, O not so my Lord.

But will you wonder to heare the rich man, upon whom the world flowes, like the setting of the Hellespont, one way without a returne, a Moitie of whose for­tunes are both the wish and envy of thousands; whose labour is but recreation, and the study of others but to please him; whom faire pleasure in the varietie of all her dresses courteth? Will you wonder that such an one, in his choice of worldly pleasures should have his ne sic quaeso, that such a one could have any the least distast? But so it is.

Nor need we indeed to won­der. What can all these outward things comfort a man in a lan­guishing disease? This displicen­tia sui, is a sicknesse of our na­ture. Since Adam first eate that forbidden Apple our Teeth are set on edge, Ezek. 11. 2 so that we disrellish even Angels food, Manna. Numb. 21.5.

The malignitie of our wit [Page 28]can finde a fault where God never made any, and this dislike of all Gods actions and censure of the whole course of his providence is an Epidemicall, and generall disease of man. For indeed who is there amongst all the sonnes of Adam, that can justly say, his obedience moveth in a direct subordination to that first mover of all things? that with a ready will, he acteth the precepts com­manded, that with an humble patience, abideth the punishments inflicted? No, no, since that fall of our first parents, the best of our obedience halteth, and our patience is frowardnesse.

If God impose any taske to be performed, inflict any punish­ment to be indured, which is distastfull to the palate of our sickned nature, O tis impossible to doe the one, intollerable to suffer the other; with what fro­wardnesse we goe about the one, and undergoe the other, and yet [Page 29]how little reason we have so to doe, let us see in Lot.

Why should we deny obedi­ence to Gods commands, or in­terpose our not so, when God com­mands alwayes for our owne good?

First, then goe to the mountaine 1 and be safe, thy disobedience is a negative to thine owne safety.

Secondly, he is thy Lord; how 2 ill coupled are these two, ne sic, with Domine mi, not so, with my Lord?

Thirdly, thou art his Servant, 3 and is ne sis, a fit dialect for a servus tuus?

Fourthly, thou hast found grace in his sight, and where is thy 4 thankfulnesse for his favours past?

Fifthly, he hath saved thy life, 5 where is thy confidence then for the time to come? if thou obey­est him he will save it still: all these might have beene motives to Lot's obedience, and checkes [Page 30]to his ne sic, to his not so; yet all are nothing, the authoritie of a Lord, the dutie of a Servant, the mercy of a deliverer, the thank­fulnesse for this grace obtained in saving his life. He is thy Lord, by authoritie he may command, thou his Servant, 'tis thy dutie to obey, and thou mayest be com­pelled to it: but thou art a fa­vourite to him, it will be the part of thy thankefulnesse, nay such a favourite as owest thy life, and therefore shouldest venture it in his service.

Lot offended therefore against his owne safety, against the au­thoritie of his Lord, against the dutie of a servant, against Gods mercie delivering, against the Lawes of thankefulnesse.

But Lot cannot escape to the mountaine. Cannot! then in vaine are these Lawes of a Lord, of a Servant, of gratitude urged if Lot cannot obey. But let us see the strength of his reason, if that [Page 31]will excuse the weaknesse of his I cannot; first in a generall survey after in a more full examination of them.

I cannot (sayes Lot) ne fortè ali­quod makim capiat & moriar, lest some evill take me, and I die.

First, there is fortè malum, per­chance some evill.

Secondly, But what evill? nay that he knowes not, it's but aliquod malum, some evill.

Thirdly, let there be more than fortè, a certaine evill, more than aliquod, let there be malum horren­dum, informe, ingens, a great one: what then? O nè fortè capiat, Lest it take him.

Fourthly, well! be it so too; let there be an evill, and that evill a great one, and that great one take him, yet et moriar, Lest it take me, and I die. What's in all this to ex­cuse either the boldnes of his not so, or the weaknesse of his I can­not. For

First, it's causuall, whether [Page 32]there be, not mala, but so much as malum in the singular, any one e­vill.

Secondly, it's casuall, if there be malum, what it is: for it's but for­tè, aliquod.

3. It's casuall thirdly, si sit malum aliquod, & hoc aliquod grande, utrum capiat, if there be an evill, and that evill a great one, it's casuall whether it take him.

Fourthly, si sit malum, & hoc malum grande, & hoc grande capi­uat, utrum moriar, if there be an e­vill, and this evill a great one, and this great one take him, it's casu­all whether it be mortall: And yet Lot cannot, will not, dare not go to the mountaine, ne forte aliquod ma­lum, &c. Lest some evill take him, and he die.

But now, as dividedly I have weighed his arguments, and have found them light, let me set one part of the Text against another, and as in a picture, you shall have the shadow of the one, to set of [Page 33]the sight of the other.

But first the subject of both parts (thy servant) must runne through both parts, and in that there's an argument, both against his ne sic, and ne fortè: his disobe­dient ne, and his destrusting nè. For if Lot be Gods servant, in ser­vitute tuâ perfecta libert as, in Gods service is perfect freedome Gods servant that hath God's passe, may goe through fire and water, a­mongst Swords and Cannons, no­thing shall hurt him.

Now for collating of the parts.

The first thing in Lot's way is 1 fortè: ne fortè, lest perhaps, lest perchance. For that, against ne fortè I'le set conspectus tuus: Ecce invenit servus tuus gratiam in conspectu tuo; the eye of God's pro­vidence against blinde obance, and then shall not Gods eye see better to guard thee, then blinde fortune to hit thee?

The second stop is aliquod malum, and in that I'le grant the most, [Page 34]that it is magnum or ingens ma­lum: and then, magnitudini ma­li hujus or miseriae, I will set a­gainst it magnificasti magnitudi­nem misericordiae, to the greatnesse of this evill or misery, the greatnes of Gods mercy. Psal. 145.9. And let that which is above all his works, answer the feare of the greatest evill that can betide him.

Thirdly, against capiat, I'le set inven [...] gratiam, he's accepted of God; let acceptus then stand a­goinst captus.

And lastly against moriar I'le set servando vitam, against lest I die, I'le set in saving my life. And now collecting all, what reason had Lot to trespasse against the authority of his Lord, against the duty of a servant, against the mer­cy of his deliverer? Why for fear of a fortè, who was in conspecta Dei, in Gods sight? Why for fear of any evill, who had found grace in the sight of God? Why of the greatest evill, who had tasted Gods [Page 35]mercy magnified towards him? Why for fear any evill should take him, who was accepted of God? Why for feare of loosing his life, which God had so graciously sa­ved?

It is disputed by Aulus Gellius in his first book of his Noctes At­ticae, A. Gellius. lib. 1. noct. artic. whether a servant receiving such or such injunctions from his Lord, may upon assurance of his masters greater profit, either leave undone his masters com­mand, or vary from it in any point or circumstance of mo­ment. Or whether there be re­quired in a servant such an obe­dience which the Schools call cae­cam, infinitum, and irrationalem; so that he ought to observe pun­ctually the command of his ma­ster, whether any unexpected ac­cident threaten losse and disad­vantage to accrew by doing that which was commanded, and an assured profit by doing the con­trary. 'Tis neither proper to [Page 36]this place nor my purpose to dis­pute this question, only give me leave to relate a Story by him re­cited, with which he seems to de­termine the question.

Crassus Mutianus, a man that by Sempronius Asellio, & other histo­rians is reported to have bin hap­py in the joynt fruition of five of the greatest and chiefest of hu­mane blessings, That he was the richest of the Romans, the most no­ble, the most eloquent, the most skilfull in the Lawes, and lastly, that he was High-Priest.

This Crassus obtaining the pro­vince of Asia, and there besieging a City called Leuca, sends to the chief Enginier of the Molealenses, (a People then in confederacy with the Romanes) to send him of two masts which he had seene in their City, the stronger and long­er, of which he might make a bat­tle ramme to batter the wals of the besieged City. The Enginier being a skilfull man, and ponde­ring [Page 37]with himself the use of the mast, sends him, not according to the direction, the bigger, but that which he knew both easier for carriage, and more fit for that use, which was the lesse. Crassus com­māds him to becal'd for, inquires why he sent not that which was commanded, & despising all rea­sons he could alleadge, comman­ded him to be stripped & scour­ged with rods. Before you brand Crassus with the name of tyrant, besides that you heare the testi­mony of his wisedome, heare a second in his reason. He thought (saith mine author) all authority would be cheap and vile, si quis ad id quod facere jussus est, non ob­sequio debibito, sed consilio non de­siderato respōdeat, if a servāt might excuse the duty of his obedience to which he is called by the sauci­nes of his own advice to which he was not called; and that obe­dience would be too much en­franchiz'd, if a servant might have [Page 38]the liberty to make his owne counsell the Oracle, at which his obedience would consult, whe­ther he should do or not do what his Lord commands.

If the authority of mans com­mands be so great and absolute, that it exacts obedience peremp­tory, and that obedience either neglected or altered, though up­pon the fairest pretences of the commander's profit, honour &c. deserve so severe a punishment, with how many stripes shalt thou be beaten, Luk. 12.47 thou evill servant, that dost disobey, not man, but God, and that not for any reason on his behalfe (as that poor wretch that was scourged for Crassus his) but for thine owne private respects, honour, profit, pleasure, darest, though a servant, a creature, make thine own ends a sufficient reason to infringe the lawes of the Lord, thy Creator, of thy God that cannot be deceived, of God that needs not any advice, or [Page 39]the correction of second thoughts? For he neither deceiveth nor can be deceived, of God that hath so absolute a power, by so many rights over soul and body, whose authority and direction are above questioning either the power of the one, or the wisdome of the other.

The Centurion saith to one, Matth. 8 9. go, and be goeth, to another, come, and he cometh, to his servant, do this, and he doth it. Shall God that is not as he, under authority, Rom. 9.5. but a­bove all, and from whom all other is derived, have lesse power over us? Let him say go, or come, or do this or that, he can heare no­thing but ne sic, not so my Lord.

It was argument enough in the Schoole of Pythagoras [...], ipse dixit, Pythagoras said so, to infer the truth of any paradox, and the faith of the Schooles is now a daies taught that obedi­ence (if I say not slavery) that in Philosophy, Aristotle is like an Hea­then [Page 40]Pope, whose text is avouched with the authoritie of Canonicall Scripture.

These shall rise up in judge­ment against the men of this gene­ration, Matth 12.41, 42. yea and shall condemne them too, for they beleeve the sayings of Pythagor as and Aristotle, Ioh. 14.6. and behold a greater then both is here, that great Rabbi, that is the way the truth and the life, yet let him speak and we beleeve not his word, command and we obey not his law, but question both the truth of the one and deny the anthority of the other, with not so my Lord.

Thus farre of Lots Negative request, with the summary view, and ballancing his reasons, it now remaines that I proceed to a more full and particular survey of the reasons which Lot pre­tends to justifie this dislike of Gods Councell, and maintaine his owne opinion. And the first is from the difficultie of the taske.

I cannot.

The way of the sloathfull man (saith Solomon) is upon thornes. Prov. 15.19. Mans unwillingnesse creates a difficultie in the most easie enter­prise, and his feare a danger in the most secure way. I cannot, is many times and in many men nothing elsebut I will not, or I have no minde to this or that, and so me thinkes it seemes to sound here, rather like a voyce procee­ding from the reluctancie of an unsubdued will, then the defi­ciencie of a fainting strength.

There is a Lyon in the way, Prov. 26.13. saith the sloathfull man; there are a thousand dangers, saith the un­willing minde. Unwillingnesse creates monsters, and sets them up in her owne way, to which (like Nabuchadnezzer to the Image himselfe had made: Dan. 5.1. it fals downe in feare, as he in reve­rence. Thus her owne fancies fright her, and with an unhappy skilfulnesse, where she findes no [Page 42]feares, her owne feares makes them.

But on the other side, tis neer a miracle to observe, how much a ready and forward willing­nesse can effect. Danger and dif­ficultie are not lets, but spurres to her undaunted resolution, and so farre from amateing her, that they rather animate her; like a bullet that by grasing a­gaine mounts, it takes a new and fresh courage at each obstacle, and in an heroicall disdaine of the least affront, revenges in the second onset the disgrace of the first repulse.

Had Lot then brought a minde as willing to be commanded, as the command was in it selfe easie to be obeyed, there had been no exceptions, no demurs between Gods command and his executi­on, no pretences of fained feares, and divinations of I know not what evils might take him: but rather with a ready willingnesse [Page 43]and industrious alacritie, he should have shewed his obedience to Gods authoritie commanding, his faith to Gods Wisedome di­recting, and how ever, his thank­fulnesse to Gods mercie delivering: he should then have said as the servants in Naaman to their ma­ster. 2 Kin. 5.13. If the Lord had bid thee doe some great thing,2 King. 5.13.wouldst thou not havè done it, how much rather when he sath escape to the mountaines and he safe? or he would have taken up the say­ing of Shimei to Solomon, 1 King. 1 King. 2.38. 2.38. The saying is very good, as my Lord hath said, so will thy ser­vant doe: he would have answe­red his feares with his faith, and silenced his reason with his Reli­gion; he would have done any thing but disobeyed, suffered any thing, or any evill, rather then have requited so gracious a fa­vour with so distastfull a reply, as not so my Lord, for I cannot.

But let us see what exceptions [Page 44]his sluggish feare can make a­gainst Gods injunction. Escape to the mountaine. Why cannot Lot? I cannot escape to the moun­taine least some evill take me and I dye.

God bestowes an invalueable favour, which his thankfulnesse should have heard with all joy, and executed with all readinesse. But behold delayes to Gods hast, exceptions to his Counsell, di­strust of his protection, and al­most a flat deniall to his com­mand, a frowardnesse, and repi­ning teachinesse, which would rather runne back in to the flame and perish in Sodom, then be de­livered in the mountaine.

Escape to the mountaine! saith froward Lot; theirs a command hath much kindnesse in it, that drives me into more hazzards then it shuunes, and for one dan­ger escaped thrusts me on an hundred? There's a journey in­deed: to be performed by an [Page 45]aged Father, with a couple of young and tender Virgins, and to be performed by such, and by such in haste, and in haste by them that are overcharged with an heavy burden of sorrow, for losse of kindred, goods, coun­trey, and all; already even halfe fainting with this sodaine vio­lence and expectation of un­heard of wonders: a journey of that length as must needs make some or all of us faint out right in the way, and so be over­taken by the fire behinde, or any other inconvenience which our weaknesse may give or others take to destroy us.

But sure the tediousnesse of this long way, will be recom­penced in the end and the place we goe to make amends, for the difficultie of the way through which we goe. Alas no: when with much wearinesse we have overcome the tediousnesse of the way, whether come we? From [Page 46] a Citie to a Mountaine, from de­light some sweets of a pleasant valley to the disconsolate lone­linesse of a vast wildernesse: from a place surfeited with the delights of nature, to a desert that cannot supply her very ne­cessities: from pleasant societie, to a melancholike solitarinesse, where life is a tediousnesse, and nothing else but a perpetuated act of a living death. And there­fore Lord, if (as thou pretendest) thou dost truely purpose, and wilt magnifie that mercie which thou hast shewed to me hitherto: Then, O not so my Lord, for I can­not escape to the mountaine, least some evill take me and I dye.

Thus hath Lot found Gods Counsell guiltie of hazzard and inconvenience by a jury of argu­ments, and produced many rea­sons to prove it as full of hazzard as he of jealoufies, and yet all indeed, but the surmises of his feare and pretences of an un­willing minde.

So doth mans nature ever ca­vill against Gods commands, they are like this journey to Lot, up hill, hard and dangerous, the precepts he imposeth are impos­sible to be done,Hujus legi­bus omnia delicta ca­pite plecte­bantur: ob quam cau­sam Dema­des dicere solebat, Dra­conem non atramento sed sanguine leges Scrip­sisse. Vid. A. Gelli­um. lib. 11. cap 18. the crosses he inflicteth impossible to be suffe­red, his Commandements are like the Lawes of Draco written in bloud, such as are to deny our selves; goe out from the world: plucke out our right eye: cut of our right hand, and cast them from us: turne our left cheeke to him that smites on the right: love our ene­mies: crucifie our affections, starve our appetites in a voluntary ab­stemiousnesse. Paradoxes, (saith nature) full of contrarietie to the principles that were borne with us,Mar. 8.34. full of harshnesse to our appetites,Rom. 12.1. absurditie to our reason,Matth. 5.29.30.39.44. impossible to our strength. Hard sayings who can heare them, who c [...]n beare them? Gal. 5.44. And yet saith our Saviour.Ioh 6 60. Mat. 11.30.Marth 11.30. My yoake is easie and my [Page 48]burden is light: Psal. 119.24.35.47 77.174. and David, thy Testimonies are my delight: and the Apostles after their stripes went away, Act. 5.41. rejoycing that they were counted worthy to suffer for the name of Christ.

How then? the difficultie lyes in the perversenesse of mans will, not in the bardnesse of Gods com­mand. As therefore the Apostle saith,2 Cor. 4 3. if our Gospel be beds, 'tis hid to them that perish; so say I, if Gods commands be absurd, 'tis so to them onely who have not their senses exercised to discerne good and evill: Heb. 5.14. and if it be harsh, it is to them onely that savour not the things of God: Matth. 16.23. if it be impossi­ble,Ier. 17.5. tis onely to him that trusteth in the arme of flesh and maketh not God his strength.

Conquer then thy Will, and in that one conquest thou over­comest all other difficulties: get but that mastery of that, and then the wayes of God shall be like the motion of Nature, [Page 49]smooth, and without rubor let, accompanied with earnestnesse in the onset, delight in the midst and successe in the end. Let God command what he will, thy o­bedience shall answer,1 Sam. 3.9.10. speake Lord for thy servant heareth: as my Lord hath said, so will thy servant doe, 1 King 2.38. and then shall it appeare as sarre from truth, as thy thought, to answer as Lot, not so my Lord for I cannot.

But tis now more then time to weigh his reason, and see what strength in that, can excuse his weaknesse, in his I cannot.

Least some evill take me, and I dye.

And is this all Lot can pre­tend, a surmise, a nothing to dis­prove Gods Conncell, and prove his owne I cannot? Alas, what canst thou weake man, if thou canst not this? What will not pose the best of thy strength, if a meere surmise, ▪à fortè, if an [Page 50] aliquid, if a lest and some evill can doe it?

O the weaknesse of distrust­ing man! What are we, while we hold not fast on the Rocke Christ Iesus, the best of us a Pe­ter, a Gedeon, a Lot? Behold a champion one of the Lords wor­thies; yet see his strength, (his weaknesse I should say) see what can trouble him. Heres no re­alitie of evill, nor needs there any to perplexe him: a feare, a thought, a very shaddow will serve to melt his substance into the cold swet of feare: a pre­sumption of his owne, Ne fortè malum, least perhaps evill, and ne fortè aliquod, least some evill; I know not what evill, 'tis inde­terminate, and ne fortè si aliquod malum sit (capiat, least some evill take me, and ne fortè) si aliquod malum sit, & capiat nè moriar, least if it take him it be mortall, least some evill take we and I dye. It's casuall whether there be an [Page 51] evill; tis casuall if there be, what it is; it is casuall if it be, and be great, whether it take him; lastly it is casuall if it be one, and that one a great one, and it take him, whether he dye, and yet righteous Lot cannot, dare not, will not goe the mountaine, ne fortè aliquod malum capiat & moriar, least some evill take me and I dye.

What needs the bloudy sword of the slaying Angel, as against the Assyrians, 2 Kin. 19.35. the fighting of the Starres in their courses, as against Sisera, Iud. 5.20. the warring of the Ele­ments,Gen. 19 24. as falling of fire from hea­ven, Ezek. 5.12. as on Sodom, infection of the ayre as against Ierusalem, Ezek. 6.11 13. o­verflowing of Water as on the old world,Gen. 7.20, 21. gaping of the Earth as on Corab, Numb 16 31, 32. Dathan and Abi­ram? What need the swarmes of flyes, bands of locusts, frogs, lice orot her his creatures, which stand ready to be the agents and ministers of his vengeance a­gainst [Page 52]sinfull man, when God can make man himself his owne punisher; his owne feares, his owne imaginary feares, his own torment and executioner, drive him with himself, from himself, even to such an extasie of feare, as shall make him (to cure them) to compound with the King of feares death, Isa. 28.15. and make a covenant with hell, that he may shunne the present horrour of hell?

But now, to shew as well the weaknesse of Lots argument, as of his I cannot: suppose for thy fortè, a reall evill, for this aliquod, one certaine, and of certaine dan­ger, yet might he have stood assured in the capiat and monia [...], that it should neither take him, nor he dye.

For what? doth thy fortè deifie a blinde chance, and put out the eye of Gods providence? or hath that providence (which thou must needs confesse in So­dom) left thee at the gates of it, [Page 53]and will accompany thee no fur­ther? or was thy safety from the throngs of the Citie, that thou art afraide to be with God alone in the mountaine? or dost thou thinke him, as they did after,1 Kin. 20.28. a God of vallies and not of the moun­taine? or if thou thinke none of these, why dost thou thinke there can be any danger in obey­ing Gods Counsell or command? Dost thou thinke He doth taske thy obedience with a command that hath any danger, who there­fore doth command thy obedi­ence, that thou mayst escape a danger? If thou thinkest Gods purpose be not to deliver, why wilt thou leave Sodom, why wilt thou obey in that? If thou thinkest Gods purpose to be to deliver thee, why dost thou not obey in this? Why not to the mountaine, dost thou thinke the neerer heaven thou goest, thou goest the further from him that is the God of heaven?

Well mightest thou have an­swered thy feares, as the Wife of Manoah did her husbands. Judg. 13.23. If the Lord (said she) were pleased to kill us, he would not have accepted a burnt offering at our hands, neither would he have shewed us all these things. So might Lot have argued. Did the Lord deliver me from so great a danger as the flames of Sodom, and will he betray me to my petty feares in the Wildernesse, and He with whom Angels de­nyed not to lodge, will they not pitch their Tents about my Ta­bernacle, Psal. 34.7. to guard me? and a­gaine, if God was pleased to re­veale his counsell to me of de­stroying Sodom, would he not as well have told me of any dan­ger, if any were? is not that power, which can so miracu­lously punish the Sodomites, great enough to preserve me, if he be willing, and that he is willing, this deliverance from [Page 55]this common judgement assures me of more then common fa­vour? Non potest tot miraculorum filius perire, he for whom so ma­ny miracles were done its im­possible he should miscarry.

I will therefore obey readily (might Lot say) since God com­mands lovingly, I will goe, since God sends me, and though my reason dispute against it, and my feares present me with a thou­sand hazzards, Ile neglect all: I have a commission, Gods com­mand will carry me through an boast of opposing dangers.

For indeed, what is it that I can feare? is it solitarinesse? He is never alone whom God accom­panies. Is it melancholy? the light of Gods countenance shall shine up­on me. Is it theeves? Psal. 4.6. amongst a throng of men violently bent to destroy me, God delivered me, by blinding them, and cannot he much more hide me from a few wandring robbers? Or is it [Page 56] want? He feedeth the young ravens when they call upon him, Psal. 147.9. nay he can make the young ravens feed his servant. 1 King. 17.4.6. Or is it last of all, wilde beasts? Heb. 11.33. he can stop the Lyons mouthes, Isa. 11.9. and the wilde beasts shall not hurt nor destroy in all his holy mountaine. What is it that thou canst feare? is it any of these, or all of these or more then all? Yet,Rom. 8 31. if God be with thee who can be against thee?

Yet all Gods former favours reall and many, cannot winne the conquest of these few, and those onely supposed feares: but he unthankfully forgets the one, and sluggishly yields to the o­ther.

God was pleased to make Lot his boast, but now he makes his guest a stranger: his safety in So­dom, cost God a miracle, the blind­nesse of many: yet Lot, more blind then they, thinkes him ab­sent who is every where present, in whom he lives, Act. 17.28. moves, and hath [Page 39]his being, gropes with more ab­surditie then the Sodomites for Lots doore; for him that is with­in, without, above, beneath, fills all places, and is excluded from no place, for him that goes where he will he cannot misse. Yet Lot sluggishly yeelds to his owne feares, and the miracle that God had shewed in blinding the Sodo­mites, and carrying him without the Citie, cannot winne the con­quest of his distrust, but he feares to follow Gods directions, least some evill take him, and he dye.

I am divided in my wonder at Gods patience, and mans distrust.

Take here then first a measure of that which is indeed immen­surable, the Patience and long suffe­ring of Almightie God, whom though we daily, hourely, nay each minute provoke, Psal. 7.12. and answer every act of his goodnesse, with some fact of our unthankful­nesse, yet still he continues his mercies, and even while we are [Page 58]finning against him, even then, is he doing good to us.

What mercy not more then morall and mortall so ill requi­ted, what patience lesse then in­finite so often abused, would not turne to revenging fury, breake forth into wrath and in­dignation?

Excuse the homelinesse of a fable, and let the goodnesse of the morall win your pardon of the tale it self. Tis thus;

A mortall being in heaven, from whence he might behold the earth, as a little Mole-hill, and men, like Ants, busie in the eager pursuit of their unquiet desires; amongst other things he sees a thief picking the purse of one that had lately before saved his life. Our mortall being pas­sionately angry at so foule ingra­titude, and unable by reason of the distance to call to them, grew so inraged that he caught up Ju­piters tripos, and threw it at the [Page 59]malefactor. Iupiter enquires for the author and cause of his throwing, and finding it, exeant (saith he) èeoelo affectus mortales, qui dum, &c. Away with mor­tall affections out of heaven, and from the government of the world,Si quoties peccant homines sua, &c. which would quickly ei­ther leave no stooles in heaven or no men on earth.

The morall shewes us the diffe­rence betwixt God and man, that it would be woe unto the world, if God were, as man touched with humane passion.

Secondly, take notice here of mans distrust, God had graciously wrestled with Lots dulnesse, and when he would have by his sloathfulnesse and delayes de­stroyed himselfe, was pleased, (rather then he would let Lot de­stroy himselfe) to use a loving violence, by force to carry him and set him without the Citie. Gen. 19.16 Yet now, him that God would save, when he neglected himselfe, he [Page 60]feares that God would neglect him, when he would save him­selfe.

Never had man more cause of confidence. So many favours might have excused if not patro­nized an over bold presumption, and set him so farre from distrust­fulnesse and feare of danger, that he might with farre more reason have run into a neglective care­lessenesse of himselfe and danger. He might have found seeming reasons, and a shew of argument for such a fault, but there is not in all the topickes of invention any argument or colour to hide so foule a distrust.

What obstinacy and basenesse is in the distrustfulnesse of man? The arguments of Gods provi­dence are beyond our numbering multiplied even with the minutes of our lives, and yet are our feares more frequent then our dangers. Let God deliver us from the grea­test evils, we dare not trust him [Page 61]in the least: deliver us from a thousand, yet we dare not trust him in one. All his mercies ex­hibited to us, in bestowing con­tinuall favours upon us, in pre­venting imminent dangers, in delivering us out of many trou­bles and afflictions that have op­pressed us, all these cannot merit our trust in him, or arme us with undaunted confidence against an appearance of danger; but as if there were no God, or as if that God slumbered and slept, Psal. 121.4. and intermedled not in the govern­ment of the world (as the Stoicks fondly dreamed) we shrinke and tremble at sight of every danger, and to secure our selves thinke it a surer way to run to unlawfull shifts, then relye on the assure­ance of Gods providence. And as if Gods hand were too short to reach from Heaven; we thinke it a farre safer way to catch hold of that which is next us, even any poore, unlawfull, and therefore [Page 62]helpes shift which our owne rea­sons shewes unto us. So wanting that eye of faith (which is the evi­dence of things not seene) and look­ing onely with the eye of sence, Heb. 11.1. we judge that God nor sees nor regards, because we see not him. Each new danger awakes a new distrust.

What testimonies had God given to the captive Jewes of E­gypt of an especiall love to them, that for their sakes had shewed the strength of his mighty arme,Exod. 13.14.16. in so many unheard of wonders? Is it in the belief of man that any danger could beget their distrust? Yet see,Exod. 12.29. they are no sooner re­deemed, by the death of so many soules as that night of horrour caused (that might indeed be red for them and blush at their so fowle, so monstrous distrust) but they on the first occasion are ready to undervalue their delive­rance, and wish rather to have served the Egyptians, Exod 14.10.11.12. then to dye [Page 63](as they feared) in the Wilder­nesse.

A deliverance may yeild us comfort for the present, but as if of a transeunt nature it ends there, and seldome doe we im­prove it to arme us in the future, so relying on transitory and vaine helpes, every assault of danger looses the joynts and shakes the strongest of our weak built resolutions.

If God should say to us in our misery as he did unto the two blind men, Matt. 9.29. According to your faith be it unto you; it would be ill with us, each affli­ction would overcome us, and the shrinking of our faith soone call on us misery enough to over­whelme us: our owne despaire would open us a gulfe, a grave wherein we should bury toge­ther, both our selves and hopes,Matth. 27.60.60. upon which (like that great stone rowled upon Christs Sepulcher) our miseries should lye with so [Page 64]great weight, as would crush, and at last shrinke us into the lowest pit of hell.

If God should not finde a bet­ter motive in his owne infinite goodnesse, a better cause in his own Sonne to deliver us when we are oppressed, alasse what dan­ger, what misery so poore, that is not too strong for the weake­nesse of man? What could our knowledge foresee? What could our wisedome prevent, of those evils we did foresee? What could our vaine and transitory helpes overcome? Nay the Eye of our knowledge being disturbed by our feare, would present evils with more horrour: nay should not our knowledge hurt, not help us, whiles it lookes through the false perspectives of confi­dence and feare, it so making evils greater or lesse then indeed they are? Yea and should not our wisedome rather hurt then helpe us, while relying on the [Page 65]opinion of it own abilities, it rather makes us secure, when it could not make us safe? Yea and should not the best meanes our owne wisedome could supply us with, rather hurt then helpe us, when they should prove one­ly like broken reeds to which when we should leane, Isa. 36 6 they breake, and so runne into our hands?

Pessimus in dubiis augur timor. Statius, lib. 1. Thebaid. —Feare is the worst Counsellor. Yet these transitory helpes, are the forts of our greatest strength, and they to which we owe both the most of our trust and thanks. We deifie nature, and relye on selfe-unable meanes, as if a re­deemed captive should reverence the sword and not the man that used it to his rescue. Alas these things we trust to, they are but agent of the first and prime cause, things which in themselves carry an equall indifference to be as well the Ministers of his venge­ance, as mercy. Heat, the greatest [Page 66]comfort of sublunary things, so that it is called the Father of gene­ration, yet how often hath that father (like Saturne) eaten his owne children? Moysture, the mother of generation, yet often hath her wombe proved a tombe, and swallowed up her owne issue?

There is nothing in the world proved either by more frequent or more demonstration then pro­vidence, yet nothing in our pra­ctise more questioned. Who be­leeves God further then he sees him? Where is the faith of those ancient worthies that beleeved a­bove, against hope, Heb 11. against the evi­dence of sence, Rom. 4.18. and beyond the possibility of nature, when na­turall reasons might call their faith absurd, foolish, impossible? If God come, Luk. 18.8. shall be finde faith upon the earth? shall he not finde it is vanished into its object, and become a thing not seene? Heb. 11.1. Or if we have any faith, 'tis but all [Page 67]sensitive, and must take infor­mation from our eye, our eare, our senses.Ioh. 4.48. Give the Jewes a signe and then perhaps they will be­leeve. Ioh. 20.25.27.28. Give Thomas an ocular de­monstration, Let him see the print of the Nailes in our Saviours hands, let him thrust his fingers into his side, and then he will acknow­ledge my Lord and my God. Give me some ground for my faith to walke on, otherwise I must needs be at the brink of despaire. I cannot like Peter walke upon the water, Matth. 14.29.30. or if I doe, the rising of a wave shall dash my confi­dence into despaire, and as if every hollow of the waves were to become my grave, my faith and I, must both sinke, and I cry out with him in despaire, Lord save me I perish.

But O Lord, doe not thou make good our feares to us: O be not in so remote a distance as our diffidence would set thee, nor yet as a judgement of our di­strustfull [Page 68]fears withdraw thy pro­tecting favours.

What use shall I make of that hath beene said, but even that of the Psalmist, I will go unto the mountaine, Psa. 121.1, 2. from whence my help co­meth: Learne to looke with the eye of faith, more than reason or sense, and then shall we see a guard of innumerable Angels in­circling us, pitching their Tents a­bout our T [...]bernacles, 2 Kin. 6.17 Psal. 34.7. and let the miseries of wanting it increase our desire to get it, one graine of which, even no bigger than a graine of Mustard-seed, Matt. 17.20. if we were owners of, we might remove a mountaine, but wanting faith, a danger that is but as a graine of Mustard-seed, is able to move us.

But be that trusteth in the Lord shall be as Mount Sion, Psa. 125.1. that shall never be moved, but standeth fast for ever: No evill shall come neere him or hurt him,Psa 91.7, &c. and after a glori­ous victory of all miseries here,Luk. 10.19 Rom. 2.7.10. he shall be crowned with glory [Page 69]and eternity hereafter.

Let us not then in a good cause be ever deterred, by the vaine af­frights of feare or danger. The goodnesse of the cause ought to animate us, in the evilnesse and hardnesse of the way to accom­plish it. If God be the author, the devill cannot be the hinderer. Honesty and goodnesse shoot in stright lines at the last and best end Gods glory, and God will as certainly prosper the meanes as he doth propose the end.

Verum & bonum convertuntur (say the Schooles) Truth and good­nesse are reciprocates, there is no goodnesse without truth, no truth without goodnesse. Mag­na est veritas & vincet, great is truth, and shall prevaile, so all goodnesse in the strength of truth shall at last overcome. The winds may blow, the raine fall, Matt. 7.24.25. the floods beat upon thee, but thou shalt not fall, for thou art grounded upon a rocke.

Hast thou begun then a noble, a glorious action, which redounds to Gods glory, the Churches and Common-weal's good, Incapisti benè, quis impedivit? Thou bast be­gun well, Gal. 5.7. who hath hindred thee that thou continuest not? If the action was evill, why did you un­dertake it? if the action was good, why do you not hold on? What if slanderers back-bite you and tra­duce you? What if authority frowne, what if envy maligne? what if the multitude rage, Psal. 2.2. and the people imagine a vaine thing? thou hast Gods commission; say not then I cannot, 'tis but nè fortè ma­lum capiat & moriar, but a lest some evill take me, and I dye.

Thine owne cowardize, thine owne weaknesse may conquer thee,Psal 2, 3. but all these, though they take counsell together, shall not be able to withstand thee. If God set thee on worke, he'le beare thee through, maugre the opposing fury of the devill and all his a­gents. [Page 71] Go on then in the strength of the Lord, and be victorious.Psa. 71.16. I tell thee, if for the fortè, there be an e­vill reall, that threat thee: Sica­piat if it take thee, si moriare, if thou die,Rom. 14 8. yet know whether thou live or die,Rom. 8.37 thou art more than con­querer. It's better fall in a good cause than prosper in an evill one. Onely let not thy feare be­tray Gods cause to miscarriage. If death it selfe be threatned to thee, die. Canst thou ever have a better end, than to die for that end for which thou and all things were made, Gods glory? which grant (O Lord) that we may pro­pose unto our selves, in all our thoughts, words and works, that glorifying thee in this life, we may receive eternall glory and felicity from and with thee, in the life to come, and that not for any merits [...]four own, but for his sake who hath dearly bought us, to whom with the father, and the ho­ly Spirit, be ascribed all honour, [Page 72]praise, and glory, now and fore­ver. Amen.

IT is a property of Divinity not to erre. Perfection is a White, at which all of us ought to aime, none may hope to hit. The best men have their er­rours and imperfections, Optimus ille est qui minimis urgetur, he's the best man that hath least, he's no man that hath no faults. Let him be excepted, that was with­out exception, him that being man was more then man too, CHRIST JESUS, God and man, in whom there was no fault, neither was guile found in his lips. All others [Page 73]are comprehended under the con­dition of sin, which they shall ne­ver put off while they are clad in these robes of flesh.

The best of Gods Saints have had their slips and fals, and to make them flye forth from them­selves, to a better and surer hold, they have had often remembran­ces of their owne weakenesse, in many grievous wounds, and bit­ter derelictions, have often fal­len, been wounded with the weak reed of their owne strength.

Wonder not then if you be­hold a David defiling his hands and heart with innocent blood,2 Sam. 12.9 and unlawfull pleasures. David, 2 Sam. 11.5 though a man after Gods owne heart, 1 Sam. 13.14. was but a man. Wonder not to behold a Solomon, 1 Kin. 3.12 the wi­sest among the sonnes of men, committing a double whore­dome,1 Kin. 11.1.4. Spirituall and Corporall; Solo­mon, though so wise, was but a man. Wonder not that Peter so foully denyed and abjur'd his ma­ster, Mar 14.66 67, &c. [Page 74]unlesse you wonder that Pe­ter was a man.

We receive with our birth and nature, two inevitable con­ditions; peccare & mori, to sin and to dye. And though it hath besee­med the piety of the Churches children to justifie the Patriarkes against the bitter taunts of scaf­fing I shmaelites, and uncircumcised Philistines, and like the good sons of Noah, to go backward with the vail of charity in their hands,Gen. 9.23. and cover the nakednesse of their fathers: yet must not that vaile of charity blindfold our judgement, so that we altogether deny those faults to be, which we would have con­cealed from the scorne of irreligi­ous men. Diminuit culpam excu­satio, non tollit. God would have the errours and faults of his Saints as well to stand upon re­cord, as their vertues; and there­fore,Seneca Nat. quaest. lib. 6. cap. 23 as Seneca sayes of Alexander his murther of Calisthenes: hoc est Alexand. crimen aeternum quod [Page 75]nulla virtus, nulla bellorum faelici­tas redim [...]t. This is a blemish that shall eternally sticke on his faire name, which no vertue of his, nor the glory of all his victories shall redeeme: quoties enim quis dixe­rit; occidit Persarum multa mil­lia, opponetur & Calisthenem: quo­ties dictum erit occidit Darium, op­ponetur & Calisthenem; quoties om­nia Oceano tenus vicit, ipsum quo­que tentavit & imperium, &c. op­ponetur sed occidit Calisthenem. As often as it shall be said, he slew many thousands of Persians, yea but it shall be said againe, he slew Calisthenes: As oft as it shall be said, he conquered Darius, yea but he kill'd Calisthenes: As often as it shall be reported to the re­nowne of his name, he subdued all to the very Ocean, and it too, and removed his Kingdome from a corner of Thrace, till it knew no other bounds, but the same with the whole earth; but, as a check to all his glory, it shall be [Page 76]said, yea but he kill'd Calisthenes.

Thus it is in the blessed Scrip­ture, with many of the Lords wor­thies, whose religious life and in­tegrity deservedly cals upon our wonder to behold them: but then againe, lest they of themselves should entertaine too high an o­pinion, or we of them — de­sinit in piscem, some frailty or foul slip like Philip's boy tels them, they are but men, subject to like in­firmities as we are, sinne it selfe not excepted. No marvell then if we finde righteous Lots argu­ments against Gods counsell and direction, guilty of weaknes and folly, for all his confidence in his Behold now, this City is neere to flee unto, &c.

Seest thou a man wise in his owne conceit? there is more hope of a foole than of such a man (Saith So­lomon) Prov. 26.12. The opini­on of our owne wisedome is the greatest argument of our folly Multi (saith Seneca) pot [...]issent per­venire [Page 77]ad sapientiam, Seneca. nisi put assent se pervenisse: many men had been wise, if they had not beene too wise; and if they had not preven­ted themselves with the swolne dropsie of selfe-opinion, had made a wholsome growth in so­lid wisedome. Many men had gone farre, if they had not look't backe on their progresse, in a multiplying glasse, and so thought they had gone farre al­ready.

This overweening conceit of our owne knowledge, as in all o­ther learning, so especially in the height of divine speculation, things (I meane) which trans­cend the reach of reason, is most dangerous. I dare in those com­mend a faith implicite, and prefer caecam obedientiam & fidem, the blind and budling faith of Papists, before the most nice and oculate of the most learned. Credulity there takes the place of reason, and that, without usurpation: [Page 78]where we have a new Logicke, and authority becomes the best argu­ment. To oppugne Gods truth or counsell with our reason, is no lesse than the extremity of folly, and impudence: we must deny our reason, become foolish, nay absurd to our owne wisedome, believe above, against it.

To defend Gods truth or coun­sell with our reason or argu­ments, is a foolish and unwar­ranted zeale, and which acti­on doth more question our judg­ment than commend our zeale. Though the Arke of Gods truth seeme to us to be shaken by the opposers and enemies of it, so that it appeare to be in danger of falling, yet ought not we to be so indiscreetly zealous,2. Sam. 6.6, 7. with Ʋz­zah, to uphold it with the weake hand of our reason. Our obedi­ence is then best, when it seemes most absurd: when it lookes on­ly on the authority of the com­mander, and yet that without [Page 79]more examination concludes an equity of the command.

It was the triumph of Abra­ham's faith, Rom. 4.18 19, 20. that above, against hope he beleeved God, when Sara's womb was now dead. It was the triumph of his obedience to be ready to o­bey God, in sacrificing of his own and onely sonne, Gen. 22.10 when nature and reason had the fairest plea that could be against it, and might judge it unnaturall, unreasona­ble, monstrous and wicked. But he look't rather to the author than matter of the command, and mea­sured not the justice of the action by the rule of reason, but consi­dered the reason of his obedience in the will, power and justice of him who commanded, who is a law to himselfe and to all others.

It had beene well with Lot, if his obedience, his faith or thankeful­nesse, the first to Gods authority commanding, the second to his wisedome directing, the last to Gods mercy delivering, had [Page 80]made him follow the Angels di­rection, and gone unto the moun­taine: but while he will be so wise to teach his teacher, God shewes him his folly by experi­ence, and makes the mountaine, which (if he had gone when God bid him) a place of safety, God (I say) makes it afterward (when he goes on his own errand) the place of his punishment.

You have heard before Lots ne­gative request, with the reasons of it, not so my Lord, for I cannot. Now it remaines that we come more particularly to handle his affirmative request, and reasons of it. O let me escape thither; to Zo­ar.

In the affirmative request we observed, First the order of it, and Secondly the matter of it.

1. The order of it, that it comes in the rere of his arguments, un­der the lee and shelter of them, we will therefore reserve to it the last place, and here first [Page 81]take notice of his Asteriske or note of attention before which be­trayes his confidence in the equi­tie of his request.

Behold now, sayes Lot.

How weake is our wisedome, yet how strong our confidence and opinion? yet obstinacie and pride beare up our opinions, e­ven against God himselfe, so that with a sawcy presumption, we dare capitulate and indent with him, nay even chalk him out the way with a not so, for I cannot but behold now.

Behold now.

When man lookes through the false medium of his owne affe­ction and passion, what monstrous errours and solecismes doth he count? The intellective part of the soule, is like a cleare and un­disturbed fountaine, wherein the forme of things is truely re­presented: but when once the affections (which are the muddy and earthy parts of the soule) are [Page 82]stirred up, it becomes a dirtie puddle, wherein things are re­presented blindly, lamely, and falsely. The istericke eye wonders that others see not all things yel­low as it selfe does, and calls that others blindnesse, which is in­deed its own infirmitie. This City is new. Yea 'tis so neer thy affe­ction that a just distance being wanting (a condition of perfect sight) thine eye must needs com­mit an errour. If God therefore behold, he shall but see thy errour, rather then any thing that may move him to condescend to thy request.

Behold now. Why, as though thou saw something that God saw not, or as though He that had power to deliver thee, could want wisdome to direct thee, but He must be directed by thee, with a not so my Lord, but behold now.

He that made the eye shall not be see? Psal 94.9, 10. He that made the soule and invested it with that noble [Page 83]and royall facultie of understan­ding, shall not He understand?

Natura agit per line as breviores, (saith Phylosophy). Nature is ne­ver superfluous in her actions, but goes the neerest and most compendious way to worke, and shall the God of nature, not doe so much more?

God is in Heaven and thou on the Earth (saith Solomon) if then He hath the advantage of the ground,Eccles. 5.2. as much as the heaven is higher then the earth, needs He to be lifted up on the shoul­ders of us dwarfes? needs that Sunne of light our candle, that Ocean our spoonefull, or that first intelligence our information or direction of not so my Lord, but behold now? must He be behold­ing to thee for thy behold now?

Behold now. Why? as if God saw as man saw. Our eye is hin­dered by darkenesse, by distance, by interposure of a grosse body. Being not hindered, what sees it, [Page 84]but colour? It is terminated in the outward surface and superfi­cies, never penetrating into the inmost and retired essence. But Gods eye is not as mans, neither doth He looke as man looketh. Within, without, hidden, cove­red, darke, light, are words, and things, to which onely mans weaknesse hath given a being; to that eye of the world there are no such distinctions.

Here then (for a word of use) let us see the vanitie of many men, who think with the colour of an excuse (which our igno­rance hath unskilfully doubted) to bleare the eyes of that all dis­cerning wisedome, to which thoughts themselves (things of weakest essence and neerest no­thing) are open and apparent. Heb. 4.13. Psal. 139.2.

From the Asteriske and note of attention behold now I come to Lots reasons to urge his affir­mative request, which argue more the good mans affection, then [Page 85]enforce his conclusion.

Innocenti a melior est quam elo­quentia. Quintilian. Innocence (saith Quin­tilian) is better then eloquence and a good cause then a good Orator. Magna est veritas & prae­valebit. O there's a considence in truth, better then all the flouri­shes of Rhetorick, all the proofes of reason. Each colour implies some defect, and each proofe some doubt, that doubt, a possi­bilitie of the contrary. And therefore it hath usually beene the guise of innocence to make no argument her best argument, and the slight of reason, the rea­son why she should not be sligh­ted.

It was a brave and heroicke scorne in the Affrican Scipio, Titus Livi­us. when being accused of treason against the common wealth, he (in stead of answering) led the people to the Temple to give thankes for that renowned vi­ctory (that day twelve moneths [Page 86]before) by him obtained. Scipio's vertue scorned to bee defended, let his actions not words speake for him. And me thinkes more could not have been said for Sci­pio then this silence, and his dis­daine of defence did out doe all oratorie. And verily truth (like a perfect cube) needs not these poore props: let falsehood and a weake cause strengthen their weake credit with these merce­naries, that like Tartars or Swit­zers will be hired to either side for the better pay. For indeed our corrupted reason is become the onely advocate to passion and affection; and so vassatized unto them, that as it is the greatest of our taskes, so is it that, wherein she shewes the best of her abilities, in ma­king good the most desperate and forlorne cause.

Our affections first resolve, and then make reason harrow all the Topicks of invention, to finde defences, if not excuses, using [Page 87]herein poore reason as a great Potentate not long a goe his cler­gie. For having a desire to marry within degrees unlawfull, he set his learned men on worke to prove it lawfull, and againe af­ter a while (being cloy'd and de­siring change) set them againe on worke to prove the former mar­riage unlawfull.

Nay! so monstrous is the folly of our credulitie, when our affections claime a strong inte­rest in the cause, that the same arguments shall serve us to prove contradictions, yea and the same reasons perswade or confirme the lawfullnesse of that, which in themselves prove it most unlaw­full.

Witnesse the words of my Text, with the two precedent verses, in which Lot would prove Gods Counsell as full of danger as his owne of convenience and safety, when as all the reasons he can alleadge, prove the flat con­trary.

1 For first, This Citie is neere to flye unto and it is a little one. This Citie.] Is it a Citie and not the more likely to be sinfull? It is Bela, a Citie of the Plaines, and not more likely to be in the same manner and degree sinfull?

2 Secondly is it neere Sodom and not the more dangerous? nay is it neere as well in condition as place? how much more likely to be joyned in punishment?

3 Thirdly is it little? how much more reason to be destroy'd? For saith God to Jonah should not I then spare this great Citie Nineveh, wherein are more then sixescore thousand persons, that cannot dis­cerne betwixt their right hand and their left, and also much cattle. Jonah 4.11. How contrary is Gods argument to Lots? God will have a Citie spared because it is great, Lot because it is little. But these rich and fruitfull plaines had much endeared the heart of the good Patriarch: loath he [Page 89]was to change a Citie, and a plen­teous valley for a mountainous and rockie desert, and therefore though God be his immediate Counsellor, the end his safety, yet being interested by affection, against the authoritie of his Lord, the dutie of a servant, the mercie of a deliverer, doth Lot struggle first by delayes, and then with forced reason to prove Gods Counsell full of danger, as his own request of conveni­ency and safety. Nay so farre hath his affection blinded him, worse then the Sodomites at his doore, for they could not see, be­cause the Angels blinded them, Lot could not see when the An­gels directed him.

I think misguided, unsanctifi­ed reason, doth rather breed sus­pitions then cleere them. Syllo­gismes never compounded con­troversies, seldome the law friends. There is indeed an ab­stracted Logicke, which prescribes [Page 90] formes and motions, but follow it into the practice of men, it hath still one terme more then it should, affection or passion. The Lawyer hath not he his rationem tinnulam for his quartum argu­mentum? and what wonder then if in a double sence he commit fallaciam in quatuor terminis.

Nor is it thus onely in our every dayes actions and occur­rents, which according to our interest reason must justifie or at least excuse, but as if that [...], that circle of Arts, had made them mad too with walk­king in it, the Schooles themselves and Ʋniversities, have matricu­lated the same dotage. Who would not unstudie reason and befoole all arguments, that should see a thesis affirmative proved by many reasons, his true Negative proved also, yet both answered, and after a long pro­gresse with inquisition and in­dustry, arrive fairely at the same [Page 91]point where it begun, and end in the greater doubt? Quid leo est, nisi insanire cum ratione? Whats this but to be a learned foole, and with great labour to make Cob-webs to be swept a­way? Magno conatu [...] nugas! Would not this (under things of faith) be enough to make a man a Skeptick? Sure we need not, to the native weaknesse of our un­derstanding and reason make it more wretched by this slavery, and mancipation to our affecti­ons and passions, unlesse to a weake eye we would throw in dust. But I leave them in their maze and come to Lots arguments themselves to enforce his request, and first of the object of his behold; the first reason of Lots affirmative request, being à qualitate.

This Citie, 'tis a Citie.

In which (as in the rest of his arguments) I might propose to my selfe this order. Every argu­ment [Page 92]or reason hath veritatem or veritatis speciem.

1 First then I might shew the probabilitie of his argument.

2 Secondly, the fallacie.

3 Thirdly, we might draw from either some use for our selves, I might thus improve the matter of my text unto a large com­passe, if I should dilate particu­larly pro and con on every of his arguments.

As first in this first argument that it is a Citie the other a moun­taine, I might shew you in this one three severall motives to Lots desire, Plentie, Societie, and Safetie. Then in answering these againe, I might (without being Heterogeneall) dilate upon the commendation of their op­posites Povertie and Solitarinesse, each of which besides the true determining and moderating of our desire of these, might suffice to hold discourse beyond the li­mits of your patience. But I [Page 93]shall content my selfe to glance at some of these, rather then to tye your patience in a long dis­course.

First then of Lots first argu­ment. This Citie. Tis a Citie, the other a rude and barren moun­taine.

This Citie was before time cal­led Bela as appeareth out of Gen. 14.8. untill this occasion of Lots request, and the reason of it, altered the name to Zoar, which signifies little, because he said it is a little one, and is it not a little one? It was one of the five Cities of the Plaines, called the Plaines of Jordan, Gen. 13.10. a Valley wherein nature prevented the labour of the industrious hus­bandman, in a voluntarie and unbought fruitfulnesse, so that it needed not to be watered with the sweat of industry to make it fruitfull, but of it selfe yeclded to the inhabitants occasion of idlenesse, to the neighbours of [Page 94]envy, and to all of wonder. Such a place it was, that it grew to a word exemplary to set forth the pride and height of fruitfulnesse. It was watered like the Garden of God, Gen 13.10. and like the plaines of Jordan before the Lord destroyed Sodom.

Here were then three strong attractives to Lots desire, Plentie, Societie, and Safetie, and in this Citie all these three concurre to make life securely happy. Abun­dance of wealth and delicacies to refresh the body, abundance of company to delight and cheer the minde, and then safety which onely makes the other consum­mate in the securitie to enjoy them.

For plentie and riches it is true that Quintillan sayes,Quint. dia­log. de O­ratoribus. pag. 689. Divi­tias facilius est ut invenias qui vi­tuperet quam qui contempserit. Its easier to finde a man that will dispaire them, then that will de­spise them, one that can in the Schooles wittily declaime against [Page 95]them, rather then one that will disclaime them. Quis nisi mentis inops? he shall presently be begd for a foole. To stand in tire upon his owne bottome and not need to be beholding to any, nay to have all that which shall hold all others either in his friendship or slavery. O it is supremum morta­litatis votum, & locus diis proxi­mus, it is the highest condition mortality can be capeable of, and riches give it. Most of the studies, inventions, toiles, travels and un­dertakings of men aime at this one end, to be rich. Heaven it self is but too often made the price of this purchase: Men goe there to fetch gold, where they loose hea­ven and day; itum est viscera ter­rae, into the bowels of the earth; deeper, into hell. This Image of Caesar causeth an universall i­dolatry, and to that superscrip­tion all subscribe.

That Lot then, should desire to go to this Citie, rather then to [Page 96]a barren and naked mountaine, we need not wonder, unlesse we wonder that men preferre plen­ty before poverty. I shall be in­dustriously idle to make more words of so confess'd a theme.

In that it is a City there is a se­cond attractive, Society, and that is to man as his owne element. Society is the life of our life, and solitarinesse is a very living bu­riall. I might here move a Pro­blem, why men naturally in re­mote and silent retirements and soli­tudes finde a kinde of horror and af­frightfulnesse?

Is it that as Solomon sayes of friends, Prov 27.17. they strengthen the faces one of another, so our Genius doth re­ceive a mutuall comfort and live­lyhood from one anothers pre­sence, and so in this solitude (be­ing out of the rayes and circle of their vertue) acknowledges that want in this weaknesse?

Or doth the soule apprehend the presence of some good or evill spi­rit, [Page 97]which are both ready, the one to offend, the other to defend us?

Or is it the reflexe of our owne conscience upon it selfe, which be­ing guilty of sinne, must needs be of feare?

Or is it antipathy of nature, which in this sees a praeludium of that universall silence to which all go downe? Siquis aspe­ritate ea est ut congress us & societa­tem homi­num fugiat & oderit, qualem fuis­se Athenis. Timonem nescio quem accepim [...]s, tamen is pa­ti non possit, ut non ac­quirat ali­quem apud quem, &c, Cicero de Amic fol. 220 vide, si plac [...]t plura ibid. What the reason of it is, I know not, thus much I am sure of, that this horror is an evi­dent argument, that man is poli­ticum animal, that in his nature is implanted a love of Society, and that he was as well made for Ci­ties, as Cities for him; so that Au­chorites and Hermits are gone as farre from mans nature, as they are from his company.

Timon himselfe, that greatest Owle of Athens, and prodigie of na­ture, that profess'd an antipathy to all man, nay, to all humanity, yet he (for all his doggednesse) as Ci­cero wittily sayes of him) could [Page 98]not carere hominum consortio, apud quos virus acerbitatis suae evome­ret, he could not want the com­pany of men, though it were but to spit the poyson of his gall up­on them.

3. Now for Lots third attractive to the City, which is safety, that man should desire it; needs no more proofe, than that a man loves himselfe, and it were vaine in me to go about to prove it.

Here then were seeming rea­sons to justifie the lawfulnesse of his request, and excuse his unwil­lingnesse to obey God's com­mand. But,

From the specious shew and waight of those arguments, I come to the fallacie in them: and for answer in generall to all, first by concession; say, 'tis true, sup­pose it, that this being a City, is more convenient to fly unto, more comfortable to rest in, there are those invitations here which in the mountaines are not. But [Page 99]what then? must God be obeyed only with our conveniency, and the condition of our service be our owne content? What is this but to make Gods of our selves, and to observe him only whilst he will pleasure us?

Egregiam vero laudem? Virgil.

How much better did afflicted Job: Iob. 2.10. Shall we receive good at Gods hands, and shall we not receive evill? What if God commanded thee, not to danger, but to cer­taine losse of thy content, thy estate, nay thy life, wilt thou not obey? Is not he the supreame arbi­ter of life and death? He that gave thee all, may be not therefore command all thou art owner of? Must our reason, or will, or content be check-master with his supreame authority, and our obe­dience be limited to our profit, our pleasure, or such respects?

Yet 'tis thus alas, many times with many amongst us. God hath many that seeme his servants, [Page 100]who are indeed but their owne: men that follow him, but 'tis like the Jewes, Ioh. 6.26. for the meats sake onely, because prosperity, riches and ho­nour are friends with religion, and go along with it: let these part, and Religion take one way, and prosperity another, these ser­vants will soone acknowledge their master.

Religion had never worse friends than when it had most, and never so many, as when the temporall sword joynes with the Spirituall. The warme and clea­rest Sun-shine of the Gospel pro­duces many aequivocall births, that pester the Church wherein they are, such as are imperfect crea­tures, in respect of true generati­on. These though they are in the Church, yet are they not of it, they seeme to hearken (with o­thers) to Gods voyce, but it is while it sounds to their eares in a pleasing key; while their profit, their pleasure or reputation run [Page 101]in paralells with religion, they hold the same course with Gods children, but th [...]se part, the bias of their respects drawes these crooked, these turne too, to the left hand after their sinister ends. Let God command them to go, if it be to that which crosses not their desires, they runne with the formost, like a stone downe a hill: but to any disconvenience, discommodity or discredit (as Lot here to the mountaine) O that's up hill, against the haire to them, then O not so my Lord, they then cannot, lest some of these evils take them, and they die; a thousand ex­cuses, a thousand pretences of feares and evils that may take them, shall stand in their way, and you shall beare I cannot, lest some evill take me and I dye. But if God will command them where their affection drawes, let them go that way, none more forward in their obedience, their owne re­spects and desires being the maine [Page 102]spring from which proceeds their motion.

2. I might secondly answer, (especially of the two first) from the nature of them, they heing adiapbora, things indifferent, that in themselves are neither good nor evill, cannot, ought not to be desired without Gods commis­sion to enjoy them. But I leave this, and passe to the second gene­rall argument, which is a quanti­tate viae, this City is neere to flye unto.

'Tis neere.

1. Ease is a great flatterer of our nature, and difficultie, at e­quall distance from our affection with danger. Labour is the price of honor, and great and heroick spirits only the purchasers. The i­dle wishes of the sluggard, nor the faint resolutions of the cow­ard, will never arrive at that height where honour dwels. A spirit that growes big as the dan­ger does, and gathers as it grows, [Page 103]shall attaine the true greatnesse.

2. Secondly 'tis neere, and so might befriend his curiosity, that though he were forbidden to looke backe, Gen. 19.17 yet he might from hence see whether and how Sodom should be destroyed.

Curiosity is an itch of our na­ture, which we would have claw­ed, though with a poysonous naile. 'Tis a disease we are all sicke of. Our first parents set their childrens teeth on edge with that sowre apple (which their first curiosity to be like gods in knowledge,Gen 3 6. to know good and evill, made them taste) that sowre apple (I say) hath ever since set their childrens teeth on edge. Ezek. 18.2 Gen. 3.7. Yet they had their eyes ope­ned; and what saw they? nothing, a privation that they were naked. They saw much like the bleare­ey'd woman in the Fable, that had covenanted with the Physitian, to give him so much money when he had restored her to perfect [Page 104]sight. The Physitian at every visit stole away some of her houshold stuffe, till at last all was gone: by which time being cured, and he demanding his reward, she tels him she now saw worse then ever, for whereas before she saw her housefull of goods, she now could see just nothing. Their cu­riositie and desire of divine knowledge brought them just to such a passe.

Their eyes were opened, Gen. 3.7. but what saw they? That they were naked. Whereas before they were invested with many divine and noble faculties, many rich attri­butes and priviledges of soule and body, they now saw them­selves disroabed, naked and mi­serably destitute of all those.

Their eyes were opened, and what saw they? Even much like the blinde man in the Gospel, Mar. 8.24. men like trees, mankinde degenerated into an inferiour kinde, violent­ly hurred with his passions, and [Page 105] become as the brute beast, Psal. 49.12.20. stupid as the block or tree.

Curiositie is often punished like jealousie. The impatience of the desire is one torture, and it often findes a second in the object it seekes. It many times fishes for a Serpent, or would try the dangerous conclusion to kill a basiliske.

Such a Curiositie, was in the men of Bethshemish, 1 Sam. 6.19. and it was a deare one, of whom fifty thousand threescore and ten men forfeited not their eyes onely but their lives, for prying into the Arke of God.

Such a Curiositie was in Rode­ricke the last King of the Goths in Spaine, L. Verulam his essay of Superstiti­on. and it was a deere one, when he would burst open a part of his palace, which the religion of many ages kept untouched: and what found he? Pictures of the Moores with a prophesie, that when that part of the palace was opened, the people there resem­bled [Page 106]should conquer Spaine, as indeed under Musae and Tarif they presently did.

Such a Curiositie was in Pom­pey the great, and it was a deare one. Vpon the conquering of Jerusalem, not long before our Saviours birth, though stoutly opposed and threatned by the Priests, he would needs enter into the Sanctum Sanctorum. And what saw he to feed his Curiosity? Nothing but as Tacitus in his historie tells us,Tacitus lib. 5. nulla intus De­um, effigie vacuam sedem & ina­nia arcana: there was no picture or image of God, it was not like the painted Church of Rome.

But what followed upon this? —ex illo

Res illi fluere & retro sub­lapsa referri, some such thing met him as did Brutus afterwards that dampned and flatted his undaunted courage. And it is worth the observing, that from that time things ever went [Page 107]downe the winde, in all his un­dertakings the sprightlinesse of his great and fortunate Genius forsook him, and grew faint and cowardly.

It was none of the least com­mendations that Tacitus gives of Agrippa, Tacitus in vita Agri­colae. pag. 656. retinuitque (saith he) quod est difficilimum sapientiae modum, he set limits to his wise­dome it selfe, and prescribed a non ultra to his desire of know­ledge. And it is the Symtome of a well man'd temper, to be able to reclaime our unsatiate eager­nesse, and take of the edge of our desire to know.

It is in Pernassus as in other hils, there is an height to which we may let our selves aspire: but some there are that thinke, that height must reach heaven it selfe, and strive this way to enter into Gods Closet. That old itch of our first parents to be like Gods, Gen 3. to know good and evill, they can ne­ver claw of. But there is cer­tainely [Page 108]an height to which we may goe, but he that rests not there, may goe further, but it is downewards, and that many times impotente sui pondere, with a swinge that cannot controule it selfe, till it carry him head­long into the dangerous preci­pice of distraction and errour. Such while like Elias they are wrapt in the Chariot of contem­plation,2 King 2.11.13. reach not to the per­fect vision of the heavens, and things done and enacted there (which they aspire to) but they let fall their mantles which should vaile their nakednesse.

Knowledge, as it is in it selfe, is a sweet thing, but it hath its sower sauce with it. Like Vine­gar it doth not so much satisfie the appetite, as whet it with a new and fresh desire. The Satyre that could not be content to see the fire, but must needs in Curi­ositie feele it, scorched his fin­gers.

Now for answer to this second argument of Lots, and to shew the fallacie of it, whereas he saith it is neer.

The neernesse is so farre from making lawfull his request that it shewes it rather to be absurd: for if it be neer Sodom, it is neer danger, and the more being as neer in condition as in place. Is this Zoar a Citie of the Plaines, and not in the same condition of sinfulnesse with Sodom? Then Lot thou wouldest change place but not company, and the next degree to sinne is to be in the company of sinners.

Woe be to him that is alone (saith Solomon) and yet (say I) better it is to be alone then in the com­pany of sinners,Eccles. 4.10. and that in re­spect of a double danger infecti­on and judgement.

First of infection, for (I dare 1 say) it is as great a miracle, for a man that permits himselfe the libertie of wicked societie not to [Page 110]be tainted,Dan. 3.27. as for the three chil­dren in the fiery furnace, not to be burned. And good reason is therefor this, since in our body there is not so great a disposition to catch fire, as in our soules to receive the tincture of sinne. The customarie beholding of sin committed, (though by others) doth in our selves weaken the strength of our Antipathy, and by little and little familiarize it to our nature, bringing us by an insensible progression, from a full hatred to a faint dislike, from dislike to a toleration, from a tole­ration to a consent, so to a delight, and at last to a societie and actuall commission.

2 And as the danger of infecti­on is much, so secondly little lesse is the danger of judgement. Witnesse Lot himself, who suffe­red in the captivity of Sodom, be­cause he so journed in the Citie of Sodom.

Tum tua res agitur paries [Page 111]cum proximus ardet. Virgil.

Who desires a vicinitie with danger? First therefore looke unto thy safety, and then to thine ease. 'Tis neer to Sodom, and therefore farre from safetie. He commits a strange soloecisme that makes the way his end, that lookes how he goes, not whe­ther. Such is the folly of us wretched men. Doe not we just as Lot did? When the seeming pleasures of the way cozen us into hell, when foolishly de­lighted with the pleasures of sin for a time we goe on in the wayes of death, Heb. 11.25. as an Oxe goeth on to the slaughter, or as a foole to the corre­ction of the stockes, till a dart strik through our liver: as a bird hasteth to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for his life. Prov. 7.22, 23.27.

Thus much for Lots first argu­ment à quantitate viae, it is neer. I proceed to the second à quanti­tate termini, tis little, it is a lit­tle one, and is it not perexigua, a very little one?

In which words (me thinkes) I discerne as much passion as hope of compassion. Behold it is a little one, and is it not a little one?

Let me (with your patience) before I enter further into exa­mination of the argument (doe what I thinke the words will give me leave) looke over the pale of Divinitie, into the groves and shades of Philosophy, and there would I desire the resolu­tion of a probleme: Why men have a kinde of naturall indulgence and delight in little things? Or why men are more taken with things that are under their just and ordi­nary proportion then those that ex­ceed it?

For inanimate it is not onely not so, but directly contrary, where with the quantitie of bulke is also encreased the quantity of vertue, as in pearles, precious stones and the like.

But for artificiall things, 'tis [Page 113]indeed many times on the con­trary, that the valew and esteeme of them is so much the more, by how much they are the lesse. To comprehend in the compasse of a Wall-nut, or in a lesse quantitie, so many severall springs, wheeles, catches, motions, all distinctly, regularly moving, is it not farre more admirable, then the exem­plar of the same in a great clock? For our esteeme of these lesser workes, the reason is evident, in regard it shewes the more art, to contrive a worke in the lesse quantitie.

Materiam superabit opus— Nay this is grounded upon na­ture,Ovid. which nunquam abundat in supervacaneis, sed agit per lineas breviores, goes the most compen­dious and neer way to work.

But now for animated things, why we are more tenderly affect­ed towards them in their minori­tie and infancie rather then in their adult-age and maturitie: [Page 114]What may be the reason of that?

1 Is it that innocency of theirs, with which we are affected, that yet is defiled with no other sin, then what by the necessity of their procreation is contracted to them?

2 Or is it from a noblenesse of nature to be indulgent towards them that are unable to helpe themselves?

3 Or is it, we love them as the meanes of our eternitie, to which we aspire by this renova­tion of our selves?

4 Or will you say it is a weak­nesse of our judgements, and misplacing of our affections on the imperfection and inchoation of the creature rather then on their adult-age and perfection?

5 Or is it a kinde of simpathy with our owne principles?

Sure if it be none of these, and that I may erre in the reason, yet the thing it self is evidēt, that naturally we are more compassi­onately [Page 115]indulgent to the infancy and minoritie of the creatures, then to them in their adult-age and maturitie, and our blessed Saviour himselfe seemes to ac­knowledge in his owne example this affection as lawfull as natu­rall in taking little children in his armes, Mark. 10.16. laying his hands upon them and blessing them, rebuking those that forbade them to be brought un­to him, and many such like pas­sages.

But I am afraid I have dwelt too long on this theme, though I am confident, not with any im­pertinencie to my Text, in which I finde the straines of like passionate indulgence, it is a lit­tle one, and is it not a little one and my soule shall live.

But I proceed to examine the argument, and first of the proba­bilitie of it, and secondly of the fallacie.

Antigonus being desired by 1 the Cynick to bestow on him a [Page 116]Talent, answered, that a Talent was more then became a Cynick to aske,Seneca. de Benef. lib. 2. cap. 17. being againe thereupon requested a penny, he answered that a penny was lesse then be­came a King to give. A base and dishonourable evasion, that found a way to bestow neither; whereas a noble and generous minde might have found a way to have bestowed both. In the Talent he looked at the Cynick, what became him to aske, in the penny at a King; what became him to give: whereas he might have given a Talent as a King, and a penny, as to a beggar, yet both with decorum enough,

I have related the story with Seneca's censure, with which though I will not crosse, yet thus much of true morality will Seneca himself grant me, at least in one part of this reply: that any thing may not be requested, but that there is a necessary decorum in all our desires. A monstrous re­quest [Page 117]answers it selfe. Eàdem fa­cilitate negatur quâ petitur. He gives me a good reason to deny him, who hath no reason in his request, and indeed that man hath forgot the first ground of Charitie, whose almes beggar him selfe; who by building an Hospitall makes himselfe a fit guest to live in it.

Aske therefore of thy friend but onely that, which thou maist aske without a blush, and he give without a straine, else hath he both, for colourable excuses for thy deniall. What reason hath he to bestow that which thou hast no reason to demand? Indeed those requests are easily granted, that bring the bloud into the cheeke neither of the asker, nor giver, not in the one, by the straine of his modestie, nor of the other, by straining his abilitie.

Importunitie and impudence is the basenesse of beggery, [Page 118]which else may be liberall, while it is asking, if it expresse as well a care of his estate from whom thou askest, as his for whom, to which the easinesse of thy request would offer no violence, whilest for thy selfe thou canst say with Lot, is it not a little one, and is it not a very little one?

But otherwise thou teachest him a just deniall, who makest thine owne supply anothers ne­cessitie. Be not therefore too im­portunate in thy demands. Im­portunitie is a civill robbery, if thou be importunate, let it be in anothers superfluitie, lest whiles thou pullest his coate to cover thine owne, thou discover his nakednesse.

And as betwixt man and man, so towards God himselfe, our petitions are taught a modestie in this example.Matth. 20.21, 22. To sit on Gods right hand and left, was a request of more zeale then discretion, and therefore found with our [Page 119]Saviour an answer rather of re­proofe then grant.

We may not aske any thing of God himselfe, that were to make the power of God familiar, and therefore miracles as they are rare things, are as rarely to be asked. 'Tis not for Gods state to come every day abroad in his rayes of majestie and power: those are things of state, and re­served for solemne dayes and oc­casions. And therefore miracles which are effects of Gods extra­ordinary power, and a kinde of new creation, are things from which God rested the seventh day, unlesse some great and generall occasion be offered.

By the way therefore, for po­pish Exorcists (those religious conjurers) that make it but every dayes worke to cast out devils, that have him at command, as ready as if he were but their Te­nant at will, it is to be feared they will be some of those that [Page 120]pleading, did not we cast out devils in thy Name, Matt. 7.22, 23. and in thy Name doe many wondrous workes? It shall be answered, Away from me ye wor­kers of iniquity, I know you not?

To conclude, our desires must not be measured at the infinite­nesse of Gods power: we ought rather to weigh with a well-dis­ciplined modesty, what we may aske, not what God can give.

And thus having done with the probability of this argument, which as it regarded himselfe, may seeme good and allowable, I come to the fallacy of it.

This City is neere, and it is a lit­tle one.

In the intention of which words, might be involved a two­fold object:

• Gods Power,
• or, Gods Justice.

1. First his Power, and then would the force of the argument depend upon this ground. That [Page 121]a thing of no great difficulty may easily be granted. It's but a small matter for me to aske or thee to grant.

But then would the argumēt be odious in a suppositiō or ground, that any thing were hard or easie to God, whereas this is only so, in a finite and measuredstrength. The infinitude and immeasurable­nesse of Gods Power, knowes no­thing that hath any the least pro­portion of resistance. What be can do (that is, all things) he can do easily. For who hath resisted his power, Rom 9.19. Rom. 9.19. All things are swallowed up in this vastnes, he is able to do all things with the same ease, the same strength: as easily move the earth out of his foundation, as move an atome of dust, or the least graine of sand: the sturdinesse of the oake is as plyant as the bul-rush, with the breath of his mouth. And indeed difficulty is but the taske of a finite strength: arising from the [Page 122] resistance of the object, when a thing is accomplished, but some­time with danger, many times with paine, and alwayes with in­tention. To God there is no such thing as difficulty, paine, or re­sistance. By what should any thing resist him? All resistance is a contrario, but to God all things are subordinate, acted by him, li­ving, moving in him, and having their being from him. Act. 17.25 28. How then can any thing move against him? To give any thing that power that it could resist God, were to make it God. But to him, dictum, factum, said and done are all one. He spake, and it was done, be com­manded, Psa. 33.9. and it stood fast.

But this first sense of the words, I passe by, as thinking it not so properly the meaning of the words, & come to the secōd, made of the second object, Gods Justice.

2. And if it be so understood, then would it be of a most dan­gerous sense: as if he should con­fesse [Page 123]indeed, that this Bela, or here Zoar, did indeed justly deserve as it had partaken in a share of the same sinnes, so to partake in the community of the same punishment. But yet it's but a little City, and the inha­bitants but few; what if then for my sake, so small a City, and such an handfull of men be exempted? Would that be any breach of Ju­stice, or any taske of Gods impar­tiall dealing, if of ten thousand ten should be spared? Would such an inch breake any square, so small a matter be stuck at, upon my desire, for my safety? Spare it then, O Lord, 'tis but a litle one, nonne perexigua est? so exceeding little, that to pardon and passe by it, can no way impeach thy Justice; which shall acquit it selfe well enough, in that number which shall justly feele it's just ri­gour, and as to that number that shall in thine anger suffer, these I sue for, lose all proporti­on, [Page 124]and become no number? so this act of thy mercy being set, by that exemplary act of thy Justice, shall escape all notice & censure.

Were I but guilty of a little oratory, I am perswaded, some might easily be cozen'd into a beliefe, that the argument were very solid, and would well e­nough hold water.

What? (saies naturall reason, and unchristened Justice) have I rigidly observ'd all thy comman­dements from my youth hitherto? have I justled counter against the world,Mat. 19.20 neglected (out of consci­ence and godly feare) my profits, my pleasures, my humors, borne the obloquies and frequent scornes of the multitude; and shall not a little sin, a small erro [...] be excused in me?

Is not this a frequent plea, that not only the formall worldling, but even Gods servants them­selves make, and wherein they are wonderfully pleas'd? as if (for­sooth) [Page 125]they had well accquitted themselves, if they have beene di­ligent in their callings, or the du­ties of religion; O then a little slacking, one neglect or ommis­sion may well enough be excu­sed, and so sin in the crowde of their vertues passe unseene, un­censured.

So goodnesse must be a stale to sinne, and diligence the patrones, at least of a small neglect! As if by doing well we purchased a li­berty to do ill, and that we might deale with God as the Romane slaves did with their masters, who having serv'd them all the rest of the yeere, yet for onst (at the Sa­turnals) their masters served them:Macrobius. so here, as if (forsooth) because we have done God (as we thinke) reasonable good service, and beene indifferently diligent in our callings, God must therefore onst, or so serve us, authorize us to sin a little, and excuse us for a little when we have sinned.

Is not this almost to make God the author of sin, and goodnesse monstrously to father her owne contrary? Would you not thinke it a monstrous madnesse, and strange soloecisme, if a master should aske his servant why he had offended in this or that com­mand, and he should reply, be­cause I am thy servant, or because I have served thee well and faith­fully in other things? Would you not think this servant mad? And would you not thinke that ma­ster that would accept this an­swer for a sufficient excuse, more mad and foolish than t'other? Yet just so do we deale with God. Why have we beene bold in this or that matter to offend? for onst to omit this or that duty, a little too slack of our diligence? because (forsooth) we are his ser­vants, because we have heretoforé beene officious and zealous. What a strange reason is here, we are bad because we have beene good?

2. As in this monstrously we would make God the author, and goodnesse the excuse and privi­ledge of sin, so secondly, it's a thing we never make any bones of, never sticke at to sinne a little, so it be but a little, it occasion be, to step a little out of the way, so that we rove not past the outter, most declination sin's of Zodiack. Let us go no further, & then, as if there were a Cancer on hell's side, as there is in heaven, and that we could be retrograde, returne when we would, fearlesse of the steep­nesse of that ascent, and unwary of the deceitfulnesse of sinne, we stop nor, (having begun our ca­rere (without Gods great mercy) till we are carried headlong into the vale of death, and plunged in the gulph of eternall misery.

O (my heloved) take heed of this killing indulgence to your selves, to thinke to sinne a little, a little to go aside, a little out of the pale of Gods protection. O con­sider [Page 128]what thou dost, no more but give the devill a little hold of thy soule, no more but begin'st a race from the top and verge of a steep hill, no more but teare a little of the writing and cove­nant betwixt God and thee, no more but adde a little thorne to the crowne of Christ.

And yet I am deceived almost as much as thou art? thou dost not these a little, but much, and highly, especially if voluntarily thou sinnest but thy little.

1 For first, its a great errour that any finne is little?

2 Secondly, as great a one, that thou canst returne, repent, and re­trive thy selfe being at a fault, but thy little.

First, no sinne is little. For tell me, what is little? I would faine know, what is little.

Is a graine of sand little? Yes, in comparison of a pebble stone. But is a graine of sand positively and absolutely little. No? For in [Page 128]respect of an atome it is great; nay, that atome is not little nei­ther. For if it be quantitative, then hath it extension, if extensi­on then one part without another, and then, at least those parts are lesse then the whole, and so might I dispute of those parts, and the parts of those parts in infinitum. I know in regard of animate bodies, the best Philosophers are of opini­on that they have their praefixed termes of magnitude upwards and downewards, their maximum quod sic, and minimum quod non, their minimum quod sic, and maximum quod non: but there is nothing in the whole universe, that is ab­solutely and positively little. And this I affirme not onely in bodies, but all accidents, whether quali­ties, actions or whatsoever, to which in any manner we attri­bute quantitie and the affections of it.

Tell me then, what is a little sinne? Sin being an aberration [Page 130]from the right way, measure me the true distance of that aberrati­on, measure me the line that mea­sures that distance; Omne quan­tum est di­visibile in semper divi­sibilia. thou wilt finde a kinde of infinitenesse in it. For each line is infinitely divisible.

The truth then is, we call some sinnes little, not that any is absolutely and really so, but only in respect of some greater. So that our justification in this kinde, would prove but like the Phari­sees meerely comparative: Luk. 18.11. I thank God I am not as other men, nor even as this Publican.

Be not then so nerre a papist in thine opinion, that (as they hold some sinnes veniall) thon as absurdly holdst some sinnes little, or the Pharisees that hold some of Gods commands to be but little ones. Matth. 5.19. Be not deceived (saith S. Paul) for because of these things, Eph. 5.6.3, 4, 5. what things? Eph. 5.6. Sinnes which the world esteemes but little of fornication, called but a trick of youth, all unclean­nesse, [Page 131]covetousnesse, nay he names lesse yet, filthinesse foolish talking, jesting, even for these things: let no man deceive you with vaine words, as if these were but little, petty trifles of sinne, toyes, not worth the heeding, for whate­ver, how light soever you may thinke of them,Vers. 6.7. even for these things cometh the wrath of God up­on the children of disobedience: be not therefore partakers with them. And indeed, they that upon this plea, are bold to commit any sin, argue more in it their owne sau­cinesse, then the sins excuse.

It is not proper, nor probable that an offender will rightly judge of the qualitie of his own fault. He must censure of it, a­gainst whom it was committed.

What was (in it selfe) the ca­ting of an apple, Gen 36. what the gathe­ring of a few sticks, Num. 15.32. or the uphold­ing of the Arke when it was so sha­ken, 2 [...]am. 6.6. that it seemed in danger of falling? What can we thinke of [Page 132]these, which might seeme each one to have a good plea, the first of wisedome, the second necessitie, the third pietie? Were not these small matters, and if sinnes very little ones? and yet the least of these little ones, cost no lesse then death,Gen 2.17. Num. 15.36. at least tempo­rall, and stretched in their na­ture to the merit of an eternall.2 Sam. 6.7. Take heed in these things of charging God foolishly. Iob 1.22. Shall not the Judge of all the earth doe up­rightly. Gen. 18.25. Yet if our captious wisedomes have not learned so much Christian mode­stie to be controuled by this au­thority, but that they dare think hardly of it, and speake it in the place of extreame justice: reason it selfe may file into a smoother phrase, the roughnesse of that word, and Christen it a most lawfull and just severitie. Rom. 11.22.

Eadem ratio rotunditatis in ma­jore & in minore circulo, sic & in peccato, there is the same kinde [Page 133]of roundnesse in a greater or lesse circle, so is there the same kinde of obliquity in the greater and lesse sinne. A little thing is little, but then unfaithfulnesse in a little is a great fault.Num. 15. The gathering of those stickes, Gen. 3.2 Sam 6. the ea­ting of that apple, the touching of the Arke, were in them selves but little things, but then the diso­bedience in these littles was no small fault. God commanded, and his command (which is the bond of all our obedience) was broken, and therefore what ever the things were, for weake and sinfull man, with neglect of so many great and strong oblige­ments to offend an infinite and omnipotent majestie, makes these little sinnes of so great a guilt, that as no man without in justice can excuse their sinnes, much lesse with any justice can any ex­cuse their punishments.

But (let me name it truely) it is a kinde of generall Atheisme, [Page 134]in this declining age (out of the greater acquaintance in sinne) that they dare with boldnesse act those things against God, and esteeme them but little, which (if done against a King, nay farre inferiour men) would be judged, by common civilitie, impudently absurd, and monstrous. And no marvell, if to Atheisme be added impudence, in those who knowing that there is a God, Tit. 1.16. doe yet in their workes deny him.

2 I have shewed the first deceit, of men that thinke some sinnes little, the second followes (as bad as the first) that men having offended but a little, can easily re­claime them selves. Let them doe this or that, either for experience or curiositie, or company, or gaine, or pleasure, or the like, without faile they will goe no further, the devill shall in vaine expect a further progresse, into any further degrees of sinne.

Thou foole! is repentance a [Page 135]worke of thine own? or if not, why wilt thou promise so cer­tainely, that which is not in thy power? Thou wilt sinne a little but surely returne. To sin is in thine own power, but that thou repent is in the power and plea­sure of God onely. 2 Tim, 2.25.

Alack vaine man! with how little reason dost thou flatter thy vaine hope? Canst thou leap off a steep rock, and thinke to stop in the middle way, when thou art carried headlong impotente sui pondere, with a weight and swing unable to manage or controwle it selfe?2 Sam 14.14. Canst thou spill water on the ground and thinke to gather it up, or put fire to towe, and hope it will not rise into aflame?

O thou little knowest the fruitfulnesse of sinne, the prone­nesse and inclination of thy na­ture, or the justice of God, that often punishes one sin with ano­ther.

It is said of Ninus his victorie, [Page 136] prior quae (que) victoria causa sequentis erat, Iustin. hist. lib. 1. every former victory occa­sioned the following: and most true it is of sinne, that every first makes way for the next, and he that makes no conscience to com­mit the one, will make lesse to commit a second, and yet lesse of the third. For as each act of sin staines the soule, so it gets an in­clination and disposition to further acts, by which is wrought cu­stome, and by custome necessity. As S. Augustine sayes,Augustinè. Dum servitur libidini, facta est consuetudo, dum consuetudini non resistitur, inducta est necessitas, so that at the last, by this fatall gradation men a rive at the height and impudence of sinning, from which (without Gods great mercie) there is never a returne,Heb. 10.27. but a fearefull looking for of judgment, and fiery indigna­tion which shall devoure the adver­saries.

Yeild not therefore to any the least sin, let not the infancie of it [Page 137]flatter thee, though it smile up­on thee with a childish inno­cence, and pretend nought but harmelesse simplicitie, for here, in a true (though differing) sence, may I use the words of the Psal­mist, Psal. 137.9. happy shall he be that taketh and dasheth these little ones against the stones.

It was but a little cloud at first,1 Kin. 18. 44, 45. that afterwards overcast the whole heaven, so a little sin, (if not scattered by the sacred power of the blessed Spirit) will hide all the heaven from us, eclipse the light of Gods countenance, and at last involue us in eternall dark­nesse. And as that little cloud be­came at length a dashing shower, the least of graines, in its growth, becomes one of the greatest shel­ters; Agraine of Mustard-seed, Matth. 13.31. which is indeed the least of all seeds when it is sowne, but when it is growne up, is the greatest amongst herbs, so that the fowles of the ayre, come and lodge in the branches [Page 138]thereof. Matth. 13.31. such is the increase and growth of sin.

Believe not then the devill and thine own deceitfull heart: they are importunate with thee. What! wilt thou deny them a little? so little? such a trifle? not grant so much roome in thine heart as to sow one of the least graines? Why wilt thou be thus fool'd, and couzened out of thy soule? Looke whether tends the devils modesty. If he should say to thee downright, bluntly, and without more adoe, give me thy soule, he would startle as well thy courage, as awake thy vigi­lancie: and because he does not so (knowing then he should he sure to be denied) wilt thou be the more carelesse, because he is the more cunning? Why; beleeve it, he askes as much in a poriphra­sis: now he askes thee, but this thy little; he askes thy soule, and aymes (though he seeme to play at small games) indeed at thy [Page 139]whole stock. He askes thy soule, but more slyly, least thou shouldst deny him. And therefore, thou oughtest to be the more circum­spect, against his cheating mode­stie, by how much there's the more reall danger in his seeming lesse desire. It is so farre from any care of thee, that it is indeed but a cunning tolling of thee on, by a seeming carelessenesse, and the innocence of a little sinne. For know undoubtedly, that of these littles is made the devils skrew, and the staires that lead to bell are winding.

Nemo repentè fit turpissimus — No man at onst jumps into the extremity of sin,Invenal. Sat. 2. and the king­dome of hell (like that of Hea­ven) commeth not with observation, Luk. 17.20. but by an insensible progresse, we goe downeward, and therefore are bid to remember from whence we are falne, Rev 2.5. and the servants come to their Lord with wonder in their mouthes,Matth. 13.27. Master didst not [Page 140]thou sow good seed in thy field, from whence then hath it tares? It e­scap't their notice for a long while, even till the blade sprung up and the fruit appeared.

Thou seest, here it is wisedome to be a precisian, and that a nice and tender conscience, is the best antidote against secretly insinua­ting poyson.

Had David before made a cove­nant with his eyes, Iob. 31.1. he had not so neerely unmade his covenant with his God; when he beheld Bathsheba from his tarras.2 Sam. 11.13.17. Little thought David that little thiefe, lust (that through the windowes of his eyes stole into his heart) should have opened the doore to those two great sinnes adultery and murther. 2 Sam. 12.9. Little thought he, the fruitfulnesse of that sinne of lust, would for one infant, have doublely lost a man, first in drink and then in bloud.

Little thought Peter (when he ment at first,Mark. 14.66, 67. &c. with a plaine deni­all, [Page 141]handsomely to have shitted of the dangerous inquisition) to 01 have runne into oaths and exe­crations. By stepping but aside, he little thought to have run so farre from Christ, even further then they that before forsooke him and fled from him.Matth. 26.56.

You see then, how one sinne ushers an other, and like one wave cals another, till at last the deepe waters goe over thy soule. Canst thou pull one linke of a chaine and thinke the rest will not fol­low? In that little sin thou art dejectus de statu & gradu, discom­posed and disordered in thy po­sture, so that thine enemie may close with thee. Such is the fruit­fulnesse and improvement of sin!

Since then, it is sins method, to winne upon us by little and little, here a snatch and there, let us be wise as serpents, Matth. 10.16. and coun­termine against the policy of that grand serpent. Let us arme our selves with a sacred jealousie, and [Page 142]well wrought resolution, which as Satan in vaine by force, at onst should attempt to breake, let us take heed, that he never by his policie unravell,Seneca. and as Seneca counsells, nobis quia regredi non est facile, optimum est non progredi, because we cannot easily return, 'its best way not to goe forward.

I have thus farre insisted out this argument of Lots in a three fold sense naturall, morrall, and theologicall.

In the first [...] and in way of essay, I inquired into the rea­son, why men are naturally com­passionate, and indulgent to little things. Secondly I inqui­red, what this is which we call little, and whether i: import any essence or quiddity, positive and ab­solute, or onely comparative and of relation.

In the morall sense of the words, I endevoured by some Ethicall precepts, to stop the voracitie and greedinesse of our desires, [Page 143]both to God and man; to cure men of that wolfe and to traine them up unto a discreet modesty, in all requests, that what we aske may be without a blush, and given without a straine, which will then be, when like Lot of his Zoar we can say for our re­quest, it is a little one, and nonne perexigua est, is it not a very little one?

The Theologicall sense I have shewed might be twofold, in re­gard of a twofold object that may be supposed Gods power, or His justice.

1. His power, and then would the words involue an errour as dangerous as popular, viz. that any thing were easier or harder to God, whereas this is so onely in a measured and finite strength. It is a little one is a good argu­ment, in that it implies our mo­destie, but it is a little one is a bad argument if it looke at Gods power.

2. The second sense (supposing the second object, which is Gods justice) is likewise dangerous, as confessing that Bela or Zoar (a Citie of the plaines of Sodom) doth partake with the rest of the Cities in the communitie of the same sinnes, but it is but a little Citie, and Gods justice cannot be impeached, as partiall in sparing so few men, so little a Citie.

Hitherto I have proceeded, and though perhaps I have made much adoe about a little, yet I am unwilling to let goe the same theme.

Who will not there most for­tifie, where he knowes his ene­mie will make the greatest bat­tery? It is this way, and almost this way onely, the devill winnes upon us. The Serpent thus by lit­tle and little windes himselfe in. He never delt with any except our Saviour, Matth 4.6. to bid him, cast down himselfe from the highest pinacle of the Temple: it is his wont to [Page 145]us, to cozen us by degrees, from the height of our zeal and vertue, as by winding stayres, and this way he's so much the more like to obtaine his end, by how much we are lesse able to discerne ei­ther the declination or danger of the way.

I had almost vented a paradox, and yet though I call it so, I will adventure to expose it to the ha­zard of your censure, and am much deceived if it be not ac­knowledged for more than halfe a truth; and this it is.

Little sinnes, or those sins which we take for little ones, are many times of greater guilt and danger, than those which we esteeme great ones. Be pleased to suspend your censure, till I acquaint you with two or three reasons.

• First they are committed in 1 greater numbers, and so numero si non pondere valent, their number will weigh against the others weight. The fruit of this forbid­den [Page 146]tree growes, if not great in bulke, yet in branches and clu­sters.
• 2 Secondly, they are done with greater boldnesse, and holdnesse is the very formale of a sinne, that which dies in the deepest guilt, and aggravates it beyond all ex­cuse, as if (forsooth) by the pri­ledge of some extraordinary fa­miliarity with God, we might be borne out in a little boldnesse, and (as the foolish mouse plaid with the Lions beard) expect that his patience should still sleep though we tempt it every day,
  Psal. 7.12.
  with the saucie importunity of these childish and sportfull sins.
• 3 Thirdly, those sins men call lit­tle, are seldome repented of, and what wonder (when committed with so much carelesnesse) if they be omitted in our repentance. Possunt verba dare & evadere pu­silla mala, ingentibus obviam itur.
• 4 Fourthly, they are causes of greater: and thereupon much [Page 147]of that guilt, which is in the sins which follow in upon these lit­tle ones, may be transferred back againe upon those, without whose treachery they had never come in. And though by a Physi­call necessity they produce not these succeeding effects yet by an inclining (nay tempting) disposi­tion, they open the gap too, and draw in a whole huddle of sins, and those many times great ones.

Examples are of this but too frequent. Have we entred a lit­tle way into any unlawfull course, and do we not often find more desperate courage to wade through, than modesty to for­beare, or repentance to go back? Over shooes, over boots: we are in, and cannot be much worse, or if we be, its as good on a little further, and repent for altogether. There's but a broken piece of a day or estate left, I can do no great good with that: as good throw the helve after the hatchet. Thus (in those and such [Page 148]like of the devils Apothegms) we encourage our selves from sin­ning to sinne, making that a spur which should be a bridle, and en­gaging our selves by the infinite­nesse of this argument, to in­gulphe our selves into an irrevo­cable condition. Tush! Repen­tance is but a sneaking and poore conditioned vertue, as good on, and secure sin with sin.

To this purpose there is a me­morable example in Seneca, of one Piso, Seneca de Ira, lib. 1. cap. 16. a Romane Generall, a man most unfitting that rule, who was (to tyranny) ruled by his owne passions.

Two souldiers having gone together out of the Campe, and one only returning, Piso con­demnes him that returned, as presuming him guilty of his com­rades death. In vaine doth the poore man crave any mercy, who is denied the just triall of his owne innocence, in the least re­spit. Away he is hal'd to the [Page 149]block, where with his necke out stretcht, ready to receive the fatal blow, whē behold fortune (more kinde to him than that tyrant) presents him with the sight of his fellow, just now upon his re­turne. With mutuall embraces, and the joyfull acclamations of the army, both are brought to Piso's Tent, that he may be ac­quainted with the souldiers in­nocence, and his owne mistake. But what? must a great generall, and that in the sight of all his ar­my, acknowledge in his acquitall, that he could be unjust? It shall be proved just, because he will not repent, which rather than he will do, he will sinne mature­ly, and desperately, to prove he did not offend so much as rashly. Piso will now, rather than ac­quit one, condemne both, both him that had not, and him that was not murthered; so that be­cause one did appeare innocent, two must perish: nay Piso ad­ded [Page 150]a third yet, the Centurion. And wot you the wit of his an­ger, to finde just cause for all? Thee (saith he) I condemne to execution, because thou wast condemned: thee, because by thine absence, thou wast the cause of his condemning: and thee, the Centurion, because being commanded to execute him whom I condemned, thou diso­beyedst my command. Excogita­vit (saith Seneca) quemadmodum tria crimina faceret, quia nullum invenerat, he found a way &c.

In dealing of which sort, of strengthening and seaming one sinne with another, we deale like a wise Counsellor of the Duke of Florence, who (having a great heap of dirt and rubbish, which without great labour, and much expence could not be conveyed away) was by a grave Senater most politickly advised, to dig a gaeat hole in the same place, and bury it in that. But (replied the [Page 151] Duke) where shall that earth which is digged out of the pit be bestowed? (Why? sayes the eight of the wise men) make the hole so much the deeper, and bury both.

Make the tale a fable, and laugh (in the morall) at thine owne folly, thou that thinkest in what kinde soever to hide one sin with another:2 Sam. 11.13.17. as David adul­tery with drunkennesse,2 Sam. 12.9. both with murther:Mar 14 66 67, &c. 71. as Peter simple de­nying of his Lord with cursing and forswearing, or (as usually the custome of many is) to hide any offence with lying or swea­ring, &c. Thou hast digged a pit,Psa. 139.8 say as deep as hell (for thither art thou going) to hide thy first sin, yet indeed in this more foo­lish than him I spake of. But suppose it hid; where shall the second be hid? make a deeper pit. Thou maist go to hell that way, but never hide thy sin from hea­ven, even there also shall thine hand, Ps. 139.10 and thy right hand finde such out.

Resolve then, thou canst not hide, much lesse secure one sin by adding more: thou thinkest to bury the first sinne in the second, but where shall the second be bu­ried? How ridiculous is this con­ceit of men, yet how often pra­ctised? David himselfe (as I said) had this gull put upon him. He committed adultery, to rid a way and bury this filth, he is guilty of drunkennesse, and finding this pit yet too little, he will wisely dig deeper, and go neerer hell yet, in Ʋriab's murther: but fin­ding the vaine policie of it, and that this way the masse of his dung-hill did but rise to greater bulke (like the Augean stables) his only way was by the abun­dant teares of repentance (as by an Alpheus) to purge away that corrupted masse.

Peter was thus serv'd too. He thought at first, but with a hand­some conveyance of his body, to have shifted off the blow he fea­red. [Page 153]But this little motion carri­ed him with such a swinge, that he ran further from our Saviour then the rest that fled:Mar. 14.71 he swears & for­sweares,Luk. 22.61 so that had not our Lord lookt back to recal him, he had run eternally away from him.

Do not these examples preach unto you strict vigilancy, yea and precisenesse over your waies, that you offend not, though never so little, that you gratifie not the de­vill with the least sin. Thou seest of what dangerous consequence and fruitfull improvement sin is: give him not one linke, by pul­ling that, all the whole chaine will follow.Luk. 1 [...], 22, 23. Let not in then this enemy, whom thou mayest easily at first keep out, and who (being onst admitted in) will be too strong for thee.

I have done with this argu­ment, which I have longer insi­sted on, because it is the strength and thigh of his request,Gen. 32.25.31. but I have touched it in the hollow of [Page 154]it, and therefore you can expect no other, but that the request must come in halting, which followes in these words, O let me escape thi­ther. But before I passe to the re­quest, and last argument, here stands in a parenthesis a passionate Epanalepsis, set downe by way of interrogation [is it not a little one?] In which having done with the matter of the words, the Rhetorick only is left to our observation.

It is a little one, O let me escape thither, and is it not a little one?

In which words (methinkes) I finde, as somewhat of passion, so much of a compassionate indul­gence, so that I know not what more winning, and affectionate­ly moving, could have been spo­ken. A right piece of true Rheto­rick, that woes the affections like a right artist, like one that would derive both powerfull and patheti­cally into his auditory his owne notions, his owne sence, and like a common Genius of the whole [Page 155]body, animate the whole com­pany with one and the same soul. This is the true end of all Rheto­rick, both prophane and sacred, ducere affectus, to take and lead the affections, quoquo velis, which soever way you please. And to doe that, is there any way but through the understanding?

Which being truely and un­doubtedly so, I can but wonder (for understand I doe not) what end they have proposed to them­selves, whose preaching is more affectedly obscure then Delphian Oracles, or Egyptian Ieroglyphicks: that indeed make good in a bad sence, that of the Apostle that calls preaching prophesying, 1 Cor. 14: 3. that have mouthes, nay words, and speak not, and would make good that curse upon their auditors, to be of those, that hearing heare and understand not, Isa. 6 9. 82 and seeing see and perceive not. Act 28.26. And indeed I wonder at the patience of them that heare such, who are delt with [Page 156]as the Foxe did with the storke. Who inviting the storke to a feast, powr'd his liquor into so slat and shallow a dish, that the poor stork was only a spectator, (while the Fox lapt up the meat) his long bill being unable to dip in that shallow platter. For you that heare such, I know not (in that regard) what you loose if you sleep whilst such preach, for if they will not make you audi­tors, I know not, why you should (in the Church) onely be specta­tors. But for such Preachers, I would upon the pardon of a que­stion, give them (I think) good counsell. What need they labour an houre, not to be understood? Is it not a more compendious way (if they would not be un­derstood) to say nothing?

2. There is an other sort, that on the contrary, as the former make preaching prophesying, so these in as bad sense, would make good that of the Apostle of some [Page 157]that call preaching foolishnesse: as if because preaching must not be gareish, 1 Cor. 1.21.23. it must therefore be sor­did. Tis beyond the patience of an understanding man, to beare the rankenesse of their undigest­ed meditations; and God sure, but for our punishment never made such Ambassadors.

It is beyond both my purpose and skill, to prescribe the best way, who acknowledg my selfe in the lowest classe of learners. But sure, there is a latitude, wherein men may both please and profit, and it will prove best, when men learne first the inclination of their owne Genius, and seeke to perfect that, whether in the kinde of prosecution or acti­on. Much of imitation is distort and lame.

I have with a perfunctory touch done with this, and come to Lots affirmative request.

O, let me escape thither.

God prescribes Lot the way to [Page 158]escape, flye to the mountaine: Lot replyes, O not so my Lord, for I cannot, &c. there's a nè sic, of disobedience, O not so, and there's a nè fortè, that is his distrust, and then, behold, this Citle is better, there is confidence.

1. Man's a distrustfull crea­ture, and yet man's a presump­tuous creature. For is there any climax in sinne, whose highest step we have not reached. If the basenesse and abjectednesse of our feares shrinke us as low as hell, the swolne pride and height of our presumption preaches us as high as heaven: so that with a saucie presumption, we dare ca­pitulate and indent with God, nay even chalk him out the way, with a not so my Lord, but behold a better conveniency, O let me escape thither; thither to Zoar one of the five Cities of the plaines.

2. Man (you see) desires to serve God easily and cheaply, would have the way to heaven [Page 159]downe the hill, the way broad, strawed with violets and roses, good store of merry companions along with him, and at the end a wide and open gate, that might be hit blindfold, (O who then would not goe to heaven.) He thinkes it not for the state of so glorious a Palace to have so nar­row a Gate. It's that that offends many, and makes them turne back againe to Sodom, that the way should be so narrow, set with thornes of afflictions, that scratch and pull back, a solitary and me­lancholick way (as many think) through disgraces and reproaches, 2 Cor. 6.8. &c. loaden with an heavy yoake, an heavy crosse: Matth. 11.29. that all the way must professe patience,Luk. 9 23. and invite a se­cond blow after the first,Luk. 21.19. and at the end agate, that to get through they must creep low as the dust,Matth. 5.39. and so straight that to get through a man must leave his wealth,Matth. 7.14. his dearest sins, nay even his flesh.

The Israelites way to the spi­rituall [Page 160]Canaan, is through a sea of sorrow, made big with their owne teares, that goes high with their owne sighes, with a spirituall Pharaob full of rage and at their heeles, through a Wildernesse, where there are all things that threaten death and no sustenance for life,Deut. 8.15. no bread, no water, no flesh, no houses, a long way through deserts and wildernesses, amongst many fiery serpents, through ma­ny enemies. O these are the things that make many a one re­turne againe towards Egypt, Act. 7.39. and goe on merrily in the wayes of death, Prov. 7.23. till a dart strike through his soule. Men will, with much adoe perhaps, be brought to desire to escape the spirituall Sodom, but not by the mountaine, O that's up hill and against the haire, but by the way of the Plaines of Zoar all would escape. O (sayes every one) let me escape but thither, this way, by Zoar and my soule shall live.

We would be content to in­vert that petition, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, to thy will be done in heaven as it is on earth; that our pleasure might rather be Gods service, then Gods service our pleasure.

Most men deeme the man in the Gospel a foole to buy so deare a bargaine, when he found the Pearle, Matth, 13.46. that is to part with all that he had to purchase it. What need­ed this cost? without doubt (say they) heaven 'may be had at an easier rate, and he but over­bought his bargaine. Men will take God at his word, give him a sterile and hungry mercie, good words and good wishes, but not sacrifice. Hos. 6 6. Good thrifty Christians we are growne, that can goe to heaven a cheaper way then by good workes, that's by the moun­taine, we can goe by faith.

Mistake me not (beloved) as though in this just sarcasme. I tasked in the least wise our do­ctrine, [Page 162]or befriended in any sort those unjust reproaches and scandalls of the Church of Rome, that we should maintaine, that faith alone without good workes can save us, or that good workes are not at all necessary to salvation. Our doctrine doth more establish, yea, and encourage good workes then theirs, while it gives them so great a valew that the least of them, even giving a cup of cold water, Matth. 10.42. shall be rewarded tenne-thousand fold above 'its owne worth: theirs rewarding them onely after the rate of their own worth.

I would to God our practice were according to our doctrine, and that it were no more the fault of the men, then the religion so to cry up faith, faith, that they have cryed downe good workes, as if they were effects of superstition and ignorant zeale. It is our pra­ctice not our doctrine that sets faith and good workes at oddes, [Page 163]which are in them selves as much connexed and linked as cause and effect, Sunne and light, body and shadow, or what ever example of strongest dependance can be found in nature. But I pray God we pay not deare, for thinking to have heaven too cheap.

The Ephesians cryed up Diana, Act. 19 28.25.27.34. Diana, but gaine was in it, gaine was their godlinesse, yea their god. We cry up faith, faith, and there is gaine in it,Iam. 2, 24.24. its to exclude good workes, those (as if out of fashi­on with Popery) we have not so much pietie (shall I say?) or cha­ritie, as to keep up those stately edifices which they built. Nay (I doubt) some are so farre from putting a finger to the worke, that the repairing of S. Paul's is with them Popish.

To finde a neerer way to the Indies hath cost many a life, and to finde a neerer way to heaven, hath cost many a soule. Many a one is in Sodom burned, that [Page 164]went to escape by Zoar. Some will pray, but like sluggards in their beds, will fast, but with curious refections;Prov. 26.14. give almes, but not a moiety of their robbe­ry, give a Vicar five pounds, and rob the Church of five hundred; be temporall Bishops or spirituall Earles; build an Hospitall and rob a Church; doe good at their deaths, and live how they list. Its no wonder there be weavers, and tapsters, and other mechanick Clergie if there be temporall Bi­shops. We will follow Christ, Luk. 9.59.61. but take leave of our friends first, or bury dead, but when he bids us follow, we will not follow him to the mountaine.

I come now to the last words and part of my Text, in these words, and my soule shall live.

Man hath committed in this a foule idolatry, in making the creature a God, while before the enjoyment he promises all hap­pinesse (and what not?) in eve­ry [Page 165]end he proposes. Man hath done the creature again [...] as foule an injury, while he vilifies the creature in the enjoyment, as farre as to hate, and loathing­nesse.

—Et concipit aethera mente. Ovid.

O, if we could but compasse such a mans estate, honour, parts, our desires should sit down, we had done for any further wishes. But doe we there set up our rest? nay alasse are they not either di­stastfull, or onely the whetters of new appetite? When we en­joy them, how short we fall of that we promised from them!

Let me escape thither and my soul shall live (saith Let,) I have mine hearts wish. Was it so? A­lasse he's no sooner there, but he flyes away from thence to the mountaine. So farre short are all outward things in giving a full content!

We are like the silly sheapherd in the fable, that seeing the Sunne [Page 166]as it were on the top of an over­looking mountaine, makes haste up to see so glorious a thing, but ariving at the top of that, it then appeares on the top of an high­er: thither againe his desire couzens him: with much labour, and fresh hope he arives, it then appeares on a third: and on his third accesse, leaves him both now hopelesse and weary. He finds to his cost, it is in heaven he lookes for, and that this is but a fond conceipt, arising from his deluded sense.

Man is this foolish shepheard, he lookes upon honour, and thinkes happinesse is there; on wealth, that happinesse is there; on mirth and pleasure, that happi­nesse is there; to come to these with as much paine as promise, he labours to arive, in each object (like every hill) seemes to rest: thither he arives, sees it now in another object: followes that; it is not there. A new wish tempts [Page 167]him, and that obtain'd deceives him. Alasse foole, it is in heaven that thou lookest for, the true Sunne of righteousnesse, Mal. 4▪ 2. He onely hath that which thou lookest for, in vaine thou lookest, rest, safety, security, happinesse in Zoar, Eccl. 2.25. in that which thy soul hastes to enjoy, if thou expect to finde it in sub­lunary things. There is only rest to be found in the mountaine cut out of the rocke, without hands, Dan. 2 34, 35. which filled the earth, my fills all places.

Let us therefore, if we thinke to escape the spirituall Sodom, go with David to this mountaine from whence our helpe cometh; let us go not by the Plaines, but (leave to the papists their Zoar purgatory, the low way let us goe via regia, the high way, the difficultie is abundantly rewarded in the de­lights of the end.

Let us then goe on,Matth. 10.22. and that couragiously in the way that God hath commanded, and undoub­tedly [Page 168]we shall obtaine the end which God hath proposed and promised. Say not when He bids thee that I cannot, 'tis but the weakenesse of thy sloath, not strength that disinables thee: block not up the way, with the objections of thine owne feares: Dispence, and that but for a while, with a few, vaine, false, and transitory pleasures that would charme thee like Syrens in thy way, and then the bitternesse of conceited evils is already past, thou hast escaped, hast over­come the height of the mountaine, where thy soul shall live.

Soli Deo Gloria.