MED. I. A Meditation of the comming of the Lord Iesus into Hierusalem, ri­ding vpon an Asse, and the bringing in of him into the Citie, with Songs and Praises, and of his returne into Be­thany the same day.

THe time approaching, which the Diuine proui­dence had from eternity [Page 2] prefixed, in which my most kinde and louing Iesus should come to his preordained Passion, & cruell death of the Crosse, which he wil­lingly came to vndergoe, being the onely begotten of God, incarnated in the wombe of the Virgin, as through the whole course of his life he shewed exceeding great hu­mility, so toward the houre of his Passion, comming to the place where hee should endure the tor­ments of a most shamefull & cruel death, he tooke his entrance from humility, when riding meekly vp­on an Asse, he came to the Citie, where he should sustaine the vnde­serued punishment of the Crosse.

Therefore when the Lord Ie­sus, sixe dayes before the Passe­ouer, had made his Supper with his Disciples in Bethanie, the towne of Marie and Martha, in the house of Simon the Leaper, which was a friend to the said Mary and Mar­tha, [Page 3] (where Mary also had powred an Alablaster boxe of precious oyntment vpon his head) the morning following very earely, most kind Iesus calling two of his Disciples, said, Goe into the towne which is ouer against you, where you shall find a she-Asse tied and her Colt, loose them and bring them vnto me: And if any man shall say any thing against you, say that the Lord hath neede of them, and strait-way they will let them goe. The lowly, and lo­uing Disciples obeying the com­mandement of their Master, li­cense being freely graunted to them by the Lord of all creatures, they presented the shee-Asse and her Colt, to their beloued Redee­mer. Then Iesus riding vpon the Asse, directeth his iourney to­wards Hierusalem: And when hee came to the going downe of the mount Oliues, many people which were come thither, hauing heard [Page 4] of the strange miracle of Laza­rus, whom Iesus raised out of his graue, went forth to meete him: And that they might doe him the greater honour, some spread their garments vpon the ground, others cut down boughes from the Trees and strewed them vpon the earth, and all of them, some going be­fore, and some comming behinde, cried, Hosanna to the Sonne of Da­uid, blessed is hee which commeth in the name of the Lord. And vvith these praises and Iubilies they brought louing Iesus, euen to the Gates of Hierusalem, following af­ter him with his Disciples.

And after Iesus beheld the Ci­tie, he now fore-knowing the de­struction of it to come (moued with compassion) powred forth teares ouer it, but the Pharises and Scribes enflamed with the fire of enuie, seeing Iesus to be extolled with admiration and honour, re­buked [...] [Page 33] sole redemption, to deliuer vs out of the bondage of eternall death, and from the intollerable paines of euerlasting damnation, to be made coheires with him of a most blessed life in the Kingdome of Heauen.

Learne therefore (oh my soule) to imitate thy blessed Sauiour, who abstained from meate to doe the will of his heauenly Father, by seeking by all meanes to winne their soules, who being void of all humanitie, sent him fasting out of their Citie. Oh hard-hearted Iewes, to giue such vnkinde enter­tainment to my bountifull Lord and louing Iesus! But be thou kinde (oh my soule) like Lazarus, and ready like Mary and Martha, to receiue thy Sauiour, that hee may giue thee euerlasting bread for thy foode, and water of eternall life for thy drinke. Come and suppe with mee (my sweet Sauiour,) [Page 34] vouchsafe to enter into my simple cottage: I confesse I am vnwor­thy that thou shouldest come vn­der my roofe, yet I know that thou art alwayes willing to come, where thou art kindly and friend­ly inuited. Open thou the dore of my heart, that thou maist enter and dwell with mee for euer: then saluation shall come to my whole house, then I shall lie downe to sleepe in peace, and rise againe without any dread of danger: for I shall be safe­ly couered vnder the shadow of thy wings, and remaine in peace­able securitie vnder thy mightie protection.

Consider (Oh my Soule,) and meditate often in thine inward thoughts, of the strange ingrati­tude of the stony-hearted Iewes toward thy Sauiour IESVS, who would not afford him so much as a meales meate at night, for his great paines hee tooke with them [Page 35] all the day; but hee was constrai­ned to returne hungry with his Disciples, from so oppulent and populous a Citie, to Bethanie, a poore and small village, there to refresh his weary and weake body: where hee made so small a supper, that he returned hungry to Hieru­salem the next morning; and spy­ing a Figge-tree which had onely faire leaues,Beware of hypocrisie. but no fruit to slake his hunger, or to afford him any refreshing in his iourney, he was so highly displeased, that it made so faire a shew, and bare no fruit, that he cursed it, and so it withered, and became barren for euer.

Wert thou (oh my gracious Lord) so highlie displeased with this fruitlesse Tree, and wert thou not grieuouslie offended with the vnthankfull Iewes? No doubt but thou hadst iust occasion to haue cursed that vngratefull Nation, whose hearts were so barren, that [Page 36] they did beare no fruit, and their mindes so deuoid of all common humanitie, that although they euer stood in neede, yet they did neuer deserue any drop of thy sweet and comfortable mercie.

Oh Lord, who can worthilie land the immeasurable largenesse of thy infinite mercie? who can throughly taste the sweetnesse of thy most excellent bountie? It was thy desire to haue wonne them by mildnes: it had beene thy delight to haue conuerted them by kinde­nesse: thou diddest curse that bar­ren tree which had store of leaues, but no profitable fruit: to teach that gracelesse Nation what thou did dest expect at their hands, and what thou mightst haue iustly in­flicted vpon them, for the hardnes of their harts, whose mouths were often filled with religious words, their hearts and hands being euer­more emptie of charitable works.

Be thou wise therefore (oh my soule) thinke not that thou hast done enough if thou vtterly con­demne those inhumane and hard-hearted Iewes, who had not so much kindnes, as to offer thy Sa­uiour a crum of bread, or a cup of colde water, vnlesse thou thy selfe make some prouision to enter­taine thy louing Iesus, whenso­euer hee shall vouchsafe to come into thy Cottage, to visit thee in kindnesse: Oh how happie shalt thou be, if thou art prouided to welcome so good a Guest, whose acceptance shall bring thee eter­nall blessednesse, and who is so kinde, that he will dwell with thee for euer: and where he remaineth, their store is alwayes increased, their riches are multiplyed in a­bundance: he cannot, he will not be chargeable vnto thee, if thou wilt shew him infallible tokens of thy true loue, and make any pro­uision, [Page 38] be it neuer so meane, to re­ceiue him with chearefulnesse: he expecteth no sumptuous prepara­tion, hee longeth for no daintie cates, hee regardeth no magnifi­cent pompe, hee hateth vaine o­stentation and outward glorie, he can neuer abide to make any a­bode in that house which is not furnished with true humilitie. Oh happie is that soule that is not vn­prouided at his comming, but stan­deth alwayes ready at the doore to open vnto him, whensoeuer hee knock­eth, and is willing to enter.

Consider also, ô my soule, the great paines and diligent labours of thy industrious Sauiour, who continued the day time in the Temple, preaching, and teaching the people; and in the night, pray­ing, or instructing his Disciples: therefore if thou wilt shew thy selfe a faithfull seruant to so good a Lord, and a louing Disciple to so [Page 39] kinde a Maister, set him alwayes before thine eyes, as a perfect pat­terne and liuely example, to imi­tate him in the carefull execution of thy lawfull calling.

Weare not out the moment of thy poasting life in carnall de­lights, fulfilling the lewd desires of the wanton flesh, accounting worldly pleasure thy chiefest trea­sure, and making thy bellie thy God, for the end of such is eternall damnation.

God hath giuen man an vpright countenance, that hee should lift vp his head, and looke towards Heauen, therefore derogate not so much from thy dignity, as to haue thine eyes, and thy thoughts, still fixed vpon the earth, like vnto the bruit beasts, neuer well pleased, but when (like a Mole) thou art turning ouer thy siluer and golden heapes.

Thou seest (oh my soule) that [Page 40] thy louing Sauiour Iesus, did seeke by all meanes to benefit the Iewes, his vnnaturall Country-men, and to do them all good, but they were alwaies so froward, that they were euermore forward to doe him no­thing but mischiefe and hurt, who hauing exiled tender pittie from their eyes, & all humane compassi­on from their harts, had not onely so much kindenes, as to offer him a morsell of meat to refresh his wea­ry body at night, when he had la­boured all day to feed their soules with spirituall bread: but most vn­kindely their chiefe rulers and the Scribes, held a Councell against him, complotted many strange inuentions, forged many odious calumniations, and imagined many false crimes, cruelly to depriue him of his harmelesse life, and to accelerate his speedy death: be­cause the good deeds which Christ did daily to the people, were vn­welcome newes to their eares, and [Page 41] bred nothing else, but sorrow in their enuious mindes.

Therefore they raged with fu­ry, and conspired in bitternesse of their malice, how they might en­trap Christ Iesus by craft and subtil­tie, and so like an innocent Lambe, lead him away to the slaughter: for so fell was their hatred to the life of our Sauiour, & so greedie were they to hasten his death, that had they not feared that the people would haue hindred their wicked purposes, interrupting the course of their malicious practise, they would haue vented their swelling spite, and disgorged their full sto­mackes, surcharged with malice against him, on the feast-day: but they suspected their cruell deede, at that time, would haue stirred vp greater tumults amongst the people, which did reuerence Iesus, as a Prophet: for if they might haue had their owne will, and satisfied [Page 42] the longing of their enuious hu­mour, they would haue spared no day, nor regarded any place, so they might haue split his innocent bloud.

Oh with what damnable coun­sell and diuellish deuises, doe I heare thy furious enemies consul­ting against thee, my innocent Ie­sus, thou Lord of eternall glorie?

What false imaginations, what monstrous inuentions, what hel­lish stratagems, what forged accu­sations, did they coyne against thee, their hearts burning, and their hands itching, to cut off thy blessed life, to staine the earth with thy precious bloud, and to worke (as they wickedly wished) thy fi­nall destruction?

How cruelly doe these faithlesse Iewes conspire against thee? those impious wretches said within themselues (carried away with the violent current of their irefull [Page 43] imaginations) let vs oppresse that righteous man, let vs swallow him vp in our rage, let vs sodainely deuoure him in our madnes, let vs set traps to take him, and lay snares to entangle him: let vs roote him out from the land of the liuing, that his name may neuer be remembred any more, because he is obstinate in contradicting our words, and peremptory in carping at our workes. Wee cannot, wee may not tollerate his arrogancie, wee will not brooke his opposi­tions.

Hee layeth open our sinnes, to increase our shame, he professeth that hee hath the knowledge of God, and nameth himselfe the Sonne of God: He discloseth our secret thoughts, hee is loathsome to our eyes, wee cannot abide him in our sight, the course of his life is opposite to our Lawes, he is an open aduersary to our Decrees, hee abstaineth from our wayes, as [Page 44] though they were wicked, defiled with vncleannesse, and polluted with vices.

We are reputed of him as men of no worth, hee standeth not in awe of our authoritie, hee estee­meth our threatnings of no mo­ment, and he arrogantly boasteth, that he hath God for his Father.

Let vs see if his protestations be faithfull, and if his speeches be true: and let vs assay and make tryall what things will happen vnto him.

If he be the true Sonne of God, hee will receiue him into his protection, de­liuer him out of the hands of his foes, and keepe him safe from danger: Let vs examine him churlishly, and torment him cruelly, to make triall of his meeknesse; let vs condemne him to a most shamefull death, that we may proue his patience.

Such were the bitter words of the cruell Iewes, who sate in coun­sell [Page 45] to kill my Sauiour Iesus, the true Lord of life, whose good deedes were so odious to their vi­cious sight, and his sweet breath so noysome vnto their stinking nosthrils, that they would not suffer him to liue any longer.

Oh that hellish enuie should so peruert the vnderstanding, and enrage the mindes of men to doe such mischiefe!

Why did the Iewes so furiously rage together? why did they imagine a vaine thing against the Lord and his anoin­ted? saying, Let vs breake their bonds asunder, and cast away their cords from vs: But, the Lord had them in dirision: hee spake vnto them in his wrath, and vexed them in his sore displeasure, and placed his King vpon his holy hill of Sion for euer.

Now, although the bloudy minded Iewes longed for the death of my innocent Iesus, yet they were loath hee should suffer [Page 46] on the day of their Feast, not for any fauour they bare vnto him, but for feare of the people.

But thou my louing Lord, didst make choise of that time to offer vp thy selfe a Sacrifice for our sakes, that thou mightest receiue greater reproach, and that thy death might be acted with more shame, suffered onely for our sins.

Thy righteous life being not onely alwayes free from any euill action, but euermore so pure, that it neuer was tainted with euill co­gitation. And also that thy death might be knowne vnto many (al­though lamented of few which did behold thee) the concourse of people being great, that flocked from many bordering townes and villages to Hierusalem, at the day of that great solemnitie: who see­ing with their eies, had not Grace beene wanting, might haue vn­derstood in their hearts, that thou [Page 47] wert the true substance, whereof the Paschall Lambe was but a fi­gure.

Oh Lambe of God which takest away the sinnes of the world, sprinkle my soule with some drops of thy precious bloud, that although it haue lien long buried in the graue of sinfull iniquitie, yet at last it may be reuiued and liue againe by vertue of thy quickning mercy.

Now the bloody Iewes hol­ding a wicked consultation, how they might depriue my beloued Sauiour of his life, euen then came cursed Iudas, and offered them (for money) to betray his louing Maister to death: saying, What will yee giue me and I will deli­uer him vnto you?

Nor was hee a more greedie Traytor, to set his kinde Maisters bloud to sale, then they readie chapmen to entertaine so bloudy an offer, seeing one of his owne [Page 48] familie so forward to deliuer him vp into their hands, whom they had already murthered in their hearts: So they proffered him thirtie pieces of siluer; Oh cursed Iudas to make such an offer! Oh execrable Iewes to accept it. But most damned Iudas to performe it.

Had Malice (oh yee bloudie Iewes) so hardened your hearts? had Fury so blinded your eyes? had Enuie so fired your grudging affections, that contrarie to the law of God & Nature, you should animate such a damnable Traitor to perpetrate so horrible a treason, against your Messias, your master?

For what could be more hate­full to God, more odious to good Men? what more opposite to Na­ture? what more contrary to good Nurture, then that one of a mans owne houshold should proue so vnfaithfull, as to sell at so vilde a price the dearest bloud of his lo­uing [Page 49] Lord? or that any men should be found so monstrous, as to al­low and like of such a damnable offer? Oh thou most wicked trai­tor! oh thou most ingratefull and gracelesse Seruant! Oh yee gene­ration of Vipers, cursed Iewes, damned Iudas! Oh thou dissem­bling Disciple by name, but in­deede a most bloudie enemie! are these the thankes thou dost giue to thy Maister for his kindenesse? is this the requitall of his loue? are these the most worthy rewards that thou canst spare him for his liberall bountie? are these the best arguments of thy gratuitie, for all his benefits bestowed vpon thee? Oh thou Sonne of perdition, execra­ble Traitor, and damnable Mer­chant, to sell the sacred bloud of thy faithfull Maister! Had my kinde Iesus committed any offence against thee? or had hee discon­tented thy minde, and vexed thy [Page 50] heart, that thou shouldst treache­rously betray him into the hands of his foes, to be tortured and put to a most cruell and shamefull death? nay rather, what large li­beralitie had he not vsed towards thee? what store of benefits had hee not heaped vpon thee? Oh thou vngratefull wretch! Oh thou hatefull traitor! my louing Iesus made thee one of the little num­ber of his Disciples: admitted thee into the blessed societie of his elected, and made thee Ste­ward of his familie, to keepe the bag, and bestow the money which was giuen to him and his Disciples: and dost thou in requitall of his fauourable loue, and in recom­pence of his extraordinary kinde­nesse, post to the cruell Iewes, whom thou, thou I say, knewest did alwayes prosecute him with deadly hate, and eagerly sought his innocent life) to offer them [Page 51] open sale of the bloud of thy lo­uing Maister, allured with the vn­satiable desire of money, (a plea­sant baite to take a couetous minde) bewitched with Sathans enticements, and instigated with the vnquenchable thirst of dam­nable lucre, that distempered thy vnderstanding, and cleane put out the eye of thy naturall reason?

Oh how doth couetous lust ty­rannize ouer our soules, and capti­uate our senses, if it once seaze vpon our hearts, and take posses­sion in our breasts! It maketh vs violate our Faith towards God, our Fidelitie towards Men: it ma­keth Parents vnkinde to their Children, and Children vnduti­full towards their Parents: it ar­meth the wicked to commit blou­die murther: it maketh Subiects disloyall to their Prince, it eg­geth and edgeth them to attempt the vtter ruine of their Country: [Page 52] it kindeleth the fire of ciuill and intestine Seditions: it bloweth vp the sparkles of horrible Treason: it excludeth kinde Hospitalitie, it is the Cut-throate of Christian Charitie: it pampereth all vices, it starueth all vertues. What is it but a Hellish Furie, the author and actor of humane miserie? Oh how happie is the heart that is not af­fected to it! Oh how peaceable is the conscience that is not infect­ed with it! Tell me thou blou­die Traytor Iudas, diddest thou not see many wonderfull Mira­cles done by thy louing Master before thine eyes? diddest thou not heare many diuine speeches vttered by his blessed mouth? didst not thou attend vpon him preaching in the day? didst thou not accompanie him praying in the night? hadst thou so soone forgot his blessed Sermons? went all in at one eare and out at the [Page 53] other? didst thou remember no better his heauenly Exhortations? hadst thou quite raced out of thy memorie his generall compassion towards all, and his particular goodnesse towards thee? why was thy soule starued for want of food in the middest of plentie? why were thy spirits dryed vp with thirst, being so neare a pure foun­taine? It was because thou haddest no grace to taste of that sweet coe­lestiall Manna, or to drinke of that rocke of liuing water. Coul­dest thou esteeme so rare a Iewell, as my Sauiour Iesus, at so base a rate? wouldest thou sell his pre­cious bloud at so low a price that was sufficient to pay the greatest price of our Redemption? What base opinion mightest thou thinke the high Priest might haue of thee, prouing so vilde a Traytor, (al­though to serue their owne turnes they allowed thy Treason?) [Page 54] Didst thou not thinke the whole World would daily hate thee, when being a Disciple, thou hadst so vildely betraied thy louing Ma­ster, and craftily plotted the death of thy gracious Benefactor? But woe be vnto thee, and to all of thy condition: it had beene bet­ter for thee thou haddest neuer beene, then being, to haue beene an instrument of such haynous, such detestable, such horrible Treason: Keepe my soule (oh Lord) set a Watch before the dore of my heart, that no coue­tous desire may haue passage into my bowels, or enter into my brest to get dominion ouer my reason, to wound my conscience, to in­flict my minde with noysome lusts, and to confound my vnder­standing with greedy desires. Let the memory of this sorrowfull day, wherein thy couetous and damnable disciple Iudas sold thee, [Page 55] my innocent and louing Sauiour Iesus, vnto the murmuring and murthering Iewes, draw out floods of teares from mine eyes, and fetch out sorrowfull sobs and deepe sighes from my repenting heart, to bewaile the horrour of my transgressions, and to lament the innumerable multitude of my many most monstrous iniquities, which brought thy most sacred bodie to the market, there to be solde, and from thence to be led to the slaughter, cruelly to be slaine; that with thy most preci­ous bloud thou mightest pay the price of my Redemption, which am a most wretched and sinfull creature: yet let the sweet recor­dation of thy immutable loue, and the ioyfull remembrance of thy immeasurable mercy, so com­fort mee in the midst of my mise­rie, that although I finde much matter in my selfe to make mee [Page 56] feare, yet that I may neuer de­spaire, knowing that thou art al­waies willing to apply a soueraigne salue to a wounded soule, and sweet consolation to a woefull conscience, whensoeuer (oh blessed Sauiour) we acknowledge our maladie, and faithfullie desire thy sauing helpe in our miserie.

Of the Preparation of Christs last Supper by the Disciples on Thursday: of the washing of the Disciples feete, performed by Iesus himselfe: and of many exemplary actions of Iesus at the Supper. MED. III.

THe first day of the sweet bread, that is to say, the fift day of the week, in the euening of which day the Paschall Lamb was slaine, and sweet bread was eaten, accor­ding to the custome of the Iewes, the Disciples came to Iesus, seeing it was the time of the Feast, and [Page 58] that their Maister had no resting place of his owne, where he might lay his head, and said vnto him, Where wilt thou that wee prepare for thee to eate the Paschall Lambe? Teach mee here (my sweet Saui­our, by thy example) so to liue in the world, that I may be prepared euery day to leaue the world, esteeming my selfe as a Pilgrime, still trauelling, and euery day re­mouing, & not to build my palace of pleasure here in this transitorie world, where all things are vncer­taine, subiect euery moment to mi­serie, changes and mutabilitie.

Let neyther the pleasant baites of prosperitie, nor the bitter brunts of aduersitie, hinder me in my iourney, whilest I trauaile to­ward the heauenly Ierusalem.

Let thy humilitie be my grea­test honour in time of prosperitie; let thy pouertie be my chiefest riches in time of aduersitie; and [Page 59] let thy patience be my onely com­fort in the sorrowfull day of affli­ction: let thy quiet contentment calme the tumults of my grud­ging minde, and barre out all re­pining thoughts, seeing thou the Lord of all, hadst not so much as a Cottage, to couer thy head from the dew of heauen, or to shadow thy face from the beames of the Sunne. But my sweet Sauiour, although thou wert poore in respect of thy Humanitie, that thy pouertie might be our consolation in time of our distresses, and to teach vs to beare with patience the heauie burden of our afflictions, yet thou didst shew the bright beames of thy Di­uinitie to thy Disciples, when they saw that performed indeed, which thou haddest told them in word, when they met with the man in the Citie, a meere stranger vnto them, whose heart thou haddest prepared to make prouision for [Page 60] thee and thy Disciples, to cele­brate the Feast of the Paschall Lambe.

Oh happie man (whom thou didst vouchsafe to choose for thy Hoste! Oh blessed house prepa­red to receiue such a Guest! Send thy holy Spirit (my louing Saui­our) as a Harbinger, to prepare a lodging for thee in my heart, and so furnish my minde with thy hea­uenlie graces, that I may be able to giue thee such entertainment, that thou maiest like and loue to dwell with mee for euer. Now, when the Table was prepared, the Paschall Lambe made readie (with other necessaries) at euening, Ie­sus came thither with his disciples, and when the houre was come, he sate downe to the Table. Oh hap­py feast! blessed are they (my lo­uing Sauiour) which sit downe to meate at thy Supper. Most happie and blessed are they (oh most [Page 61] mercifull IESVS,) who are so dearely beloued of thee, and so highly honoured by thee, as to be made worthy to sit at thy Table.

Thou wilt giue them euerlasting food for their meate, and water of life for their drinke, so that after thy boun­tifull Feast, they shall neuer know any hunger, nor feele any thirst.

Graunt mee (Oh bountifull Lord) to taste of that heauenly food, and to drinke my fill of that Coelestiall water, so that my body may be thy holy Temple, and my soule thine euerlasting habitation. Behold (oh my soule) how thy louing IESVS sitteth amongst his Disciples; a meeke Lambe a­mong meeke sheepe, except cruell Iudas, who although hee were a deuouring Wolfe, sate downe to the Table in their holy societie. Oh most holy societie of thee, and thy faithfull Disciples! Oh most [Page 62] glorious companie of all but one, who had a Diuell!

These thy children, my most louing Iesus, doe sit like Oliue bran­ches round about thy Table: They sate downe with thee lincked toge­ther with the bond of perfect loue, the mindes of all them being faithfull vnto thee, and all their affections longing after thee, one­ly Iudas was an odious Traytor, and thou knewest well enough that he should betray thee.

They all eate with thee the meat set before them, and they eate the pure Paschall Lambe, after the manner of the Iewes.

Oh blessed house, oh happie supping-parlour, worthy of great honour, in which my gracious Lord vouchsafed to make his bles­sed Supper.

Wherefore was not I there then, my sweet Sauiour, to attend vpon thee, and thy faithfull Disciples? [Page 63] I would haue esteemed it as my greatest honour, to haue done thee any seruice. Certainely, I would haue gathered vp some of the crummes which fell from the Table of my Lord.

Oh how ioyfull would it haue beene to my hart! Oh how would it haue pleased mine eyes, to haue had but a view of thy amiable countenance! I would haue fallen downe flat at thy feete, and with Mary Magdalene, I would haue washed them with my teares. And thou oh my most mercifull Lord, which didst not despise the teares of a sinfull and a sorrowfull Woman, wouldst not haue reiected mee, a poore Publican, and grieuous sin­ner: and as thou wert compassio­nate towards her, so thou wouldst also haue beene mercifull to me.

Oh how comfortable would thy most pleasant speeches (my sweet Sauiour) haue beene to my sor­rowfull [Page 64] soule? how quickly would thy most wholsome words wher­with thou didst refresh thy louing Disciples, haue healed the wounds of my grieued conscience? What did my Lord beginne to speake? what were thy first words when thou wert set at the Table? Thou saist, I haue earnestly desired to eate this Passeouer with you before I suffer: Oh how great is thy Charitie? how immeasurable is thy loue, my lo­uing Iesus? Thou didst earnestlie desire to eate with thy Disciples, but it was not to slake thy hunger, or to refresh thy feeble nature: thou hadst no such neede of cor­porall food, but it was thy meate to doe the will of thy Father: Thou wert desirous to leaue some to­kens of thy exceeding loue, with thy louing Disciples, before thy departure, and to seale them an euerlasting assurance of thy continuall prouidence ouer them.

let the precious balme of thy so­ueraigne mercie, heale the deepe and deadly wounds of mine ini­quitie: Oh my God, open thy pit­tifull eares to heare my petition, an­swere me graciously, and despise not my prayer.

Command my wandring heart to come out of the broad way that leadeth to Hell and damnation, and to returne into the narrow path, which conducteth to heauen and euerlasting saluation: so that being once againe returned into it, it may neuer hereafter wander out of it.

Shut all worldly cares and wic­ked cogitations out of my heart, that neither the heauie burthen of them may so depresse my minde, that the deuotion of my Prayer cannot ascend vp vnto thee, nor so stop the passage of my soule, that the comfort of thy grace cannot de­scend downe vpon me.

Draw mee vnto thee, my most louing Iesus, thou which art mine assured saluation, in the day of my greatest miserie, and my onelie comfort and consolation in the last and latest houre of my deadly agonie: for I am wounded, and my heart is consumed, because I haue forgotten to eate my bread, which should haue nourished me to euerlasting life.

Indeed, I haue beene altogether forgetfull of thee, my beloued Ie­sus, for I haue not called to my minde thy most holy Passion with any zealous or serious medita­tion: I haue had no delight to thinke vpon thy precious wounds, which thou didst suffer to heale my sores: neither haue I found any comfort in the pure streames of thy innocent bloud, powred out to wash away my sinnes, and to purge my corrupted soule: I haue not looked after my beloued in the day, I [Page 75] haue not longed for my Bride-groome in the night.

I confesse my gracious Lord, I haue not beene mindefull of thee, my thoughts haue beene wan­dring abroad, my minde hath not been exercised with any sweet meditation of thy mercie: my spirit hath not beene troubled with sorrow for my sinnes, mine eyes haue shed no teares, nor my heart sent forth any sighes for my manifold transgressions. There­fore what shall I doe? I will re­turne to the Lord my God, and I will call vpon him, I will not cease to reiterate the most holy Name of Iesus, vntill thy voice sound in mine eares, there, there. Come therefore (oh good Iesus) and haue mercie vpon me. Heare (oh sweet Iesus) the prayer of thy ser­uant: infuse and dip my heart in thy bloud, and diffuse thy grace into my soule oh most mercifull [Page 76] Iesus: let my heart oh most lo­uing Iesus) be like waxe melting in the middest of thy bloudy side. Cloath my minde with the mour­ning garment of thy Passion, and let my zealous affections burne like fire in my serious meditation.

Leade me (oh my most milde and kinde Iesus) to thy most holy Supper, where I may heare thee speaking to thy Disciples, sitting at thy Table, after thou haddest washed their feete.

Tell mee (oh my soule) if thou hast read what the Lord my Iesus did when he sate downe againe to the Table, after the washing of his Disciples feete. Verily, while they were yet eating, Iesus tooke bread, and giuing thanks, he bles­sed it, brake it, and gaue it to his Disciples, and said: Take and eate this is my body which is giuen for you, doe this in remembrance of mee. And when hee had giuen euery [Page 77] one a morsell, hee tooke the cup, and powring wine into it, giuing thankes, hee likewise gaue it to them saying: Drinke yee all of this, for this is my bloud of the new Testa­ment which is shed for you, and for many, for the remission of sinnes, and they all dranke of it. Let vs pause a while (oh my soule) and with de­uout meditation ponder in our mindes, and treasure vp in our hearts, the wonderfull things which our blessed IESVS hath done for vs; for our mercifull and gracious Lord hath made a me­moriall of his wonders, hee hath giuen meate to them which feare him. Oh wonderfull Supper, in which so many admirable things were done and effected! This was thy last Supper (oh most sweet Iesu) which thou didst make when thou wert about to depart out of the world to thy Father. How ma­ny admirable wonders of thy [Page 78] exceeding loue? how many mira­cles of thy infinite mercy are pre­sented vnto vs in this thy blessed Supper: but thou hast most spe­ciallie ordained this mysticall, sweet, delightfull, and heauenlie sacrament of thy body and bloud, that the memorie of thy Passion might remaine for euer in the mindes of the faithfull: Oh won­derfull Sacrament, in which is contained such abundance of all kinde of sweenesse! no sweetnesse be it neuer so dilicious can come neere it in goodnesse; no pleasure, be it neuer so incomparable, is worthie to be compared vnto it.

Oh most sweet Iesu, how plea­sant, how sweet art thou, if wee might haue a true taste of thy ex­ceeding sweetnesse? In this thy wonderfull Sacrament, thou dost feed vs with corporall bread, but after a spirituall manner. What therefore can I want to satisfie my [Page 79] what may I wish to augment my ioy, if I haue my Iesus present with me? Though now I see thee darkely through a glasse, yet hereaf­ter I shall see thee face to face. I can­not satisfie my minde (oh my most bountifull Iesus) with admi­ration of thy vnmeasurable libe­ralitie: I cannot wonder enough at the exceeding largenesse of thy bountie.

What greater gifts couldest thou haue bestowed vpon vs? what more excellent benefits couldest thou haue deriued vnto vs? For in this thy blessed Testa­ment, thou hast bequeathed great and precious Legacies to all thy Brethren that faithfullie loue thee, and constantlie beleeue in thee: In verie deede thou hast left them a rich inheritance, wee cannot estimate the price, we can make no true account of the great­nesse. Some at their death leaue [Page 80] to their heires, Cities and townes, great possessions and store of mo­nie: some build them sumptuous houses, and erect statelie Sepul­chers, that their name might remaine among men, and their memorie continue vpon earth. But thy bountie, my most kinde and lo­uing Iesus, doth farre exceed and surmount them all: for thou hast left thy owne selfe vnto vs, that wee should haue a continuall spe­ctacle of thy most holy Passion in our mindes, and often thinke vp­on thy innocent death in our re­penting hearts. And in thy blessed Sacrament, which is so highly to be honoured of vs, and most re­uerently to be celebrated by vs, thou dost giue thy selfe for food to be receiued of vs by faith, which may nourish vs to euerlasting life, and deliuer vs from the doome of eternall death. Oh my most boun­tifull Lord, oh exceeding, admi­rable, [Page 81] and incomparable loue of my louing Sauiour, my beloued Iesus! But how odious is mine in­gratitude, my kinde and louing Iesus, how great and grieuous is my forgetfulnesse, that I doe not continuallie remember the pangs of thy Passion, and euermore me­ditate on the paines of thy bitter death, when I participate thy wonderfull Sacrament, and cele­brate thy blessed Supper, seeing by thy death thou hast merited for me euerlasting life, and by thy Passion hast purchased for mee eternall redemption.

Why doe I not remember that thou wert wrongfully accused, scorne­fully derided, spitefully reuiled, cru­elly scourged, and crucified as a hai­nous malefactor, and put to a shamefull death as a wicked doer: and how patientlie thou didst en­dure the bitter paines of the crosse, to deliuer mee a most wretched [Page 82] sinner, from the curse of eternall death, iustly pronounced against mee, and readie to be inflicted vp­on mee, if thy obedience had not appeased the wrath of thy heauen­lie Father, and thy gracious mercy salued the wounds of my misery.

Oh my drie head, why doest thou not draw water with ioy out of the fountaines of thy Sauiour, for he is a Well of liuing water? Oh teares, why doe yee not streame forth in great abundance, with exceeding ioy and exulta­tion, while I call to minde the ex­ceeding sweetnesse of mine euer­lasting libertie, and meditate vpon the greatnesse and goodnesse of my eternall Redemption, in this most sacred, holie, and wonderfull Sacrament represented vnto me? Why doe not my spirits faint with exceeding ioy? and why is not my minde rauished with excessiue mirth, when I consider the im­measurable [Page 83] greatnesse of thy loue; and the incomprehensible large­nesse of thy bountie, whereby thou hast beene moued to giue vs thy selfe for euerlasting meate, to nou­rish vs to eternall life? Haue mercie vpon mee (oh my most mercifull Lord) because by reason of the imbecillitie of my dull vnder­standing, and by the hardnes and drinesse of my heart, I am notable to relish the goodnesse, nor taste the sweetnesse of the wholesome fruit of thy holie and blessed Sa­crament: yet I (most vilde wretch) presume to come to thy Table, and to receiue this holy foode, though most vnworthie of so great a mercie.

But woe bee vnto my consci­ence, and horror vnto my woun­ded soule, because I haue approa­ched vnto thy holie Table, and ta­ken of thy sanctified meat with pol­luted hands, and vnwashed feete, [Page 84] and yet I haue not blushed for shame, nor bewailed the follie of my intollerable Presumption. For I consider my most sweet IESVS, that in this thy most glorious Supper, before thou diddest in­stitute the most blessed Sacra­ment, as a memoriall vnto vs of thy bloudie Passion, thou the true Christall-glasse of Humilitie, ta­king the shape of a Seruant, didst wash the feete of thy Disciples, saying moreouer vnto Peter, If I shall not wash thee, thou shalt haue no part with mee. Shall it not there­fore bee my great presumption, and shall I not incurre the danger of a most grieuous offence against thee, if I would haue any part with thee, when I approach vnto thy holy Table with vnwashed feete, and participate thy blessed Sacra­ment with defiled hands?

I know therefore (my gratious Lord) who, and what a one I [Page 85] ought to be, when I come to such an excellent Sacrament.

I know my louing Lord that I should first wash my feete, heart and hands, and purge all my cor­rupted affections, before I should presume to receiue thy pure and holie Sacrament. I know my good and gracious Iesus, that it is needfull for mee euery night to wash my Bed, and water my Couch with my teares: Yea, and to wash my feet with teares of true com­punction, and with streames of sorrow, flowing from the inward deuotion of a relenting and re­penting heart.

But woe be vnto me (most vn­happie wretch) because that I a most vilde creature, doe not feare to approach vnto such an excel­lent Maiestie, infected from the crowne of my head, to the sole of my foote, with sores and loathsome diseases, and being a [Page 86] most wicked sinner, wholie ouer-spread with corruption, and stai­ned with filthie pollution: doe not blush to come into thy pre­sence, but presume to intrude my selfe into thy blessed societie, and to sit downe at thy holie Table, which art a diuine Spirit, alwaies pure from the spots of sinne, and staines of iniquitie. I come vnto thee my meeke and louing Iesus, puffed vp with pride, and lifted vp with rebellious thoughts, and I presume to eate with impure hands, and vnwashed feet.

Notwithstanding my most mer­cifull IESVS, I know that thy cle­mencie is farre greater then mine indignitie, and thy mercie farre ex­ceeding my miserie. And there­fore confident in thy great benig­nitie, and relying whollie vpon thy immeasurable mercie, I am bold to receiue thee, and being in­fected with so manie dangerous [Page 87] and deadlie diseases, I come vnto thee, being a skilfull and louing Phi­sitian: that I may be cured from my grieuous maladies, by thy so­ueraigne medicines. For by how much the more weake I am, and by how much the greater the ma­ladie is which doth afflict me, by so much the more I stand in need of thy helpe, that the infinitenesse of thy mercie may appeare the clearer in the cure of my grieuous maladie, and the beames of thy glorie shine the brighter by my deliuerance.

Therefore I will come confi­dentlie vnto thee (my most milde and mercifull Iesus) because thy mercies are infinite, that I may enioy with thee, the euerlasting delights of the blessed.

Giue me therefore thy heauen­lie bread, oh my good Iesus, thou which art the life of the world, and graunt (oh bountifull Lord) that [Page 88] I may be enabled by thy grace, to eate worthilie, that I may remaine in thee eternallie, and thou in mee euerlastingly: for I desire this one thing, it is the ioy of my heart, and the contentment of my longing affections, that I may dwell inse­parablie with thee for euer, and I will cleaue vnto none other but onely vnto thee, oh my sweet Ie­sus, because with thee is the foun­taine of life, and in thy light, I shall see light.

A Meditation how the Lord Iesus fore-told his Disciples that hee should be betrayed by one of them that same night. MED. V.

AFter our most louing and most gracious Iesus had fed his Disciples with his precious Bodie, and refreshed them with his Bloud, hee was troubled in spirit, and said to his Disciples: Ve­rily, verily, I say vnto you, that one of you shall betray mee, which eateth with mee, that the Scripture may be [Page 90] fulfilled: he which eateth my bread, shall lift vp his heele against mee: Oh how hard is this saying, my bles­sed and bountifull Sauiour! Oh how harsh and bitter meats hadst thou reserued for thy Disciples, at the end of thy Supper? Thou didst feede them with sweet milke in the beginning, and thou gauest them delicious honie in the mid­dle, when thou didst wash their feete; and refreshedst them with thy precious body for their meate, and with thy roiall bloud for their drinke.

But now in the end thou hadst reserued gall and Wormwood, sowre sauce for their sweet meate, when these sorrowfull words did passe out of thy blessed lips, and that dreadfull speech was vttered, by thy honie-flowing mouth.

Woe is me (my sweet and louing Iesus) I seeme to see the cheerefull countenance of thy deare disciples [Page 91] sodainely changed, their hearts ouer-whelmed with floods of sor­row, their mindes perplexed with excessiue griefe, the heate of their desires quite extinguished, and all their hopes whollie dashed so soone as those fearefull words had passed through their eares, and pierced their hearts; who of so sweet a beginning, little expected so sowre a conclusion.

Had they not much matter of mourning, and was it not a world of sorrow vnto them, that thou being their Master, Captaine, Go­uernour, Gardian, and Ruler, shouldst be betraied to death? and it did much more augment the matter of their woe, and increase the heapes of their griefe, that one of them should contriue this horrible Treason, and be the Au­thor of this bloudie attempt.

The first was a violent motiue, to moue them to exceeding sor­row, [Page 92] because they so dearly loued and were so entirely beloued of their louing Maister: But the lat­ter was so horrible to their eares, and so terrible to their hearts, that it quite abated all their former ioy, & vtterly amazed their perplexed mindes, maruelling in their trou­bled cogitations, who amongst such a little flocke of Sheepe, should proue so woluish, as to de­uoure so good a Shepheard: ad­miring that any one in their holie societie, should so farre degenerate from his faithfull fidelitie, as to be­tray the life of so bountious, so milde, and so mercifull a Master. But heare oh my soule, what his faithfull Disciples answered, when they heard those lamentable words pronounced. They looked one vpon another, their faces being pale with feare, and their hearts full fraughted with sorrow, and scarce­ly could their tongues vtter any [Page 93] part of their inward griefe, the floud of their woes did flow fast, and rise to so high a tide in their hearts, and they said with a trem­bling voyce, what sorrowfull words are these which our deare Master doth vtter? Who amongst vs shall proue such a cursed wretch, as once to imagine or such a horrible traitor as once to com­plot such a detestable deede and execrable fact?

Such a hainous intention, said euery one of them, was farre from my thoughts, such a hellish moti­on did neuer enter into my breast. For how should such a Diuellish cogitation enter into our mindes, or finde any harbour in our harts? but our Lord cannot be deceiued. Wherefore euery one of them tur­ning to the Lord, said: Is it I Rabbi? to whom blessed Iesus answered, One of the twelue which dips his hand with me in the dish shall betray me.

But peraduenture many of them shouing their hand in the dish at that time, they were not able to discerne who it should be.

Wherefore Iudas said: What is it I Rabbi? But louing Iesus, other­wise not discouering him, answe­red, Thou hast said: as though hee should say, thou hast said and not I: for we may thinke truely, that if my louing Iesus had plainely dis­couered that cursed man to the rest of his louing and beloued Disciples, they (if we should com­pare their affections with other mens passions) had not beene able to haue contained their hands, but with one accord would haue assailed that most wicked traitor, and haue ended his hatefull daies, with a speedie death, who allured with the baites of the Diuell went about to make sale of the blessed life of their deare and best beloued Maister. For how wouldest thou [Page 95] haue beene able, oh bold and cou­ragious Peter, to haue cooled the heate of thy furie, and to haue held thy hands from taking ven­geance vpon such a damnable Traitor, when as thou didst not feare to make resistance against a great band of Souldiers, in the de­fence of thy beloued Master? For as their loue toward louing Iesus was without meane, so their ha­tred toward hatefull Iudas would haue beene without moderation, if his treacherous plot had beene openly discouered vnto them. But I pray thee stay here a while, (oh my soule) and ponder within thy inward thoughts, with deuout meditation, the sacred words and diuine speeches, more sweet then honie & the honie-combe, which my most sweet Iesus vttered to his faithfull Disciples, as he went to the place of his vniust appre­hension, which the Euangelist [Page 96] Iohn retaining in his memorie, through the holy Ghost, hath faithfully recorded in his heauen­lie and most sacred Gospell. Me­ditate there seriouslie vpon the wonderfull loue which hee had towards his loyall Disciples: hee was their Lord and Master, yet he did not disdaine to eate meate, conforting with the meanest of them: hee washed their feete, hee gaue his bodie and bloud vnto them: and after all these things, did not cease to teach them the way of truth, and to feede their soules with the spirituall food of his coelestiall doctrine.

Oh most mercifull and blessed Iesus, thy words are spirit and life, which thou doest speake to thy Disciples: and that knew thy Ser­uant Peter, when he said; Thou hast the words of eternall life: For thy words are pure and sweet to the taste of them that loue thee; yea, [Page 97] more sweet then honie and the honie-combe. They also knew, that those who were sent by the chiefe Rulers, to lay hands vpon thee, were taken with such won­derfull admiration at the gracious words which did proceede out of thy blessed mouth, that they were constrained to proclaime thy worthie praises, telling them, That neuer any man spake so graciously: Oh most eloquent Orator! streames of sweetnesse doe flow from thy lips, Honie and Milke are euer plentifull vnder thy tongue: Oh how powerfull, how eloquent, how wonderfull were the words which my Lord vttered to his Disciples in the end of his sweet Oration! Hee exhorteth them to sow the seedes of true loue in their hearts, and to shew forth the fruits thereof one to another.

After, hee admonisheth them, that they should be constant in [Page 98] their loue, and permanent in their Faith towards him their louing Sauiour. For hee that is destitute of the former can neuer be pos­sessed of the latter.

And after those things, he fore-telleth them what great dangers they should passe, what tribulati­ons, troubles, afflictions, and ca­lamities, they should suffer after his departure, that being fore-war­ned, they might be better armed.

Lastly, hee powreth forth his prayer vnto his heauenly Father for them, that they might not shrinke backe like cowards in the day of their triall, nor their Faith faile them in the bitter stormes of affliction, but aboue all things, oh my most sweet IESVS, I am not able to wonder enough at thy earnest Exhortations, which thou diddest vse to kindle the sparkes of feruent loue towards thee in the hearts of thy faithfull [Page 99] Disciples, thou doest specially aboue all things, charge and command thy Disciples, that they loue thee, and couet after nothing but thee! Oh how great is the ex­cellencie of true loue! Oh how feruent is the vehemencie of a deuout spirit: Oh how forcible is the preheminence of a charitable affection! Thou didst commend, and leaue loue (my beloued Iesus) as a most rare and precious Iewell to thy deare Disciples.

Therefore this is highly to be extolled of vs, and chiefely to be desired by vs, as our greatest ri­ches, and onely treasure: Let him oh louing Iesus, be abiected out of thy gracious fauour, let him haue no taste of thy kindnes, that doth not honour thy name, and possesse his heart with thy loue.

Truely, many riuers of water, haue not beene able to put out the fire, nor quench the flame of true [Page 100] loue: for loue is as strong as death.

Verilie, if I should giue all my substance, were it neuer so great, I would regard it as nothing, ra­ther then I would want or forgoe my true loue: for hee that loueth thee faithfully (my most louing Sauiour) will leaue all things wil­lingly, take vp his Crosse cheare­fully, and follow thy steps con­stantly.

Therefore, who shall seperate mee from thy loue, Oh my most sweet Lord? What shall diuert the current of my affections from thee?

Shall tribulation or anguish? shall persecution or hunger? But because I can doe nothing without thy grace (my gracious IESVS) nor performe any thing without thy power, set such a deepe stampe of thy loue in my heart, that the print of it may neuer be raced out, but abide in it for euer; yea, so [Page 101] wound my heart with thy swee­test loue, that all my desires may be turned towards thee, and that I may finde no ease, but when I thinke vpon thee, that I may loue thee with all my heart, with all my soule, with all my strength: & that my whole will, desires, and affecti­ons, may couet nothing but thee.

Let all my cogitations be one­ly occupied in the meditation of thy loue. Seperate and remoue from mee all other desires of the flesh, oh my sweet Iesus, that my whole heart may be solelie con­ioyned to thee in the day, my soule humblie attend vpon thee in the night, and that my spirit and bodie may chearefully seeke after thee when I awake earely in the morning: for my soule thir­steth after thee, oh God, which art a liuing fountaine, oh when shall I come before thy face? when shall I ap­peare in thy presence?

And I doubt not oh most mer­cifull Lord, but that I shall be lo­ued of thy Father, if I shall loue thee as thou hast taught thy Dis­ciples; and that thou and thy Fa­ther will come to mee, and make your dwelling place with me!

And what doe I craue more, what doe I couet so much as that my Iesus may dwell and remaine in mee? Oh how happy were my state, how blessed were my condi­tion, if I could truelie say, my belo­ued (as a bundle of Mirrhe vnto me) will remaine betweene my breasts.

If I could imbrace my beloued Iesus, I would hold him fast be­twixt mine armes, I would neuer let him depart any more from me, his presence should be my plea­sure in the day, his societie should be my solace in the night. Kindle my reines, oh most louing Iesus, with the burning sparkles of thy loue, inflame my heart with the [Page 103] fire of an ardent deuotion towards thee, so that I may long after thee alone, my deare beloued Christ Iesus, and euermore search for thee, and neuer cease to seeke thee, vntill I finde thee, which by the vehemencie of thy loue, and com­passion of thy mercie wert willing to be cruellie crucified for my grieuous transgressions, and to dye a shamefull death for my sinnes: Ingraue the memorie of this thy great loue, so deepe, in the Table of my heart, that it neither decay by length of daies, nor be worne out by the iniquitie of the time.

A Meditation concerning Iesus his going vp into Mount-Oliuet, and of his praying thrice in the Garden. MED. VI.

IT was the custome of our lo­uing Iesus, to ascend vp often vnto the Mount Oliuet, which was distant the space of a mile from Ieru­salem, that he might pray. There al­so was a Towne named Gethse­mani, where there was a Garden, sci­tuated on the Mountaines, into the which, beloued Iesus was accustomed [Page 105] to enter, specially at night time, with his Disciples to pray.

Wherefore after he had ended his glorious and blessed Supper, and also his sweet and comforta­ble exhortations made to his be­loued and faithfull Disciples, hee resorted towards this place, late in the night, accompanied with them.

Here (oh my soule) behold thy Iesus, looke vpon that inno­cent Lambe, which goeth of his owne accord to the slaughter.

Take a view of his Disciples which follow him, hauing their faces pale with feare, their mindes perplexed with doubts, and their hearts drowned with flouds of sorrow.

Oh that thou mightst be so hap­pie as to haue a little taste of the sweetnesse of his words, and to haue some rellish of his comfor­table Admonitions, which hee [Page 106] made by the way to his sorrow­full Disciples, to refresh their fain­ting spirits, and to establish their doubtfull mindes.

What plentie of bitter teares did the Apostles poure downe by their cheekes, when they saw and heard their Lord and Master spea­king so gentlie vnto them? Hee propounded vnto them (as I sup­pose) all things which hee had done with them at his last Supper, and the words he had spoken vn­to them, and also after what man­ner hee should be deliuered to death that night.

Behold, his Disciples amazed at his wofull words, and hearing with attentiue eares, the sweet ad­monitions of their carefull Ma­ster: They all gaue heedy atten­tion to euery word that came out of the mouth of their beloued Lord, communicating so gentlie with them.

Oh wofull separation! oh la­mentable departure! Now a most kinde and louing Master shall be separated from his beloued Disci­ples, a wakefull Shepheard from his harmelesse sheepe, yea, a lo­uing Father from his beloued Children.

What maruell is it then if their mirth be changed into mourning, their ioy into sadnesse, and their solace into sorrow? They knew well by experience, how ioyfull, how pleasant it was to remaine with their beloued Iesus, and to enioy his blessed societie: there­fore they had good cause to be amazed with sadnesse, and to be wounded with sorrow, for the losse of their louing Redeemer.

Oh what pittifull words (as I suppose) what lamentable voices did they vtter, saying; Wilt thou leaue vs (our most gracious Ma­ster) like silly Orphanes depriued [Page 108] of comfort? Wilt thou leaue vs in a Sea of sorrow without a Pilot?

Where shall wee hope for con­solation? where shall we seeke for helpe in thy absence?

And as they could not refraine themselues from sorrow, so hee their most louing Shepheard was readie to giue them sweet com­fort, chearing vp their drooping mindes, with assured hope of his powerfull helpe, and comforting their sorrowfull hearts with his neuer-failing promise of his euer­lasting loue; telling them, that al­though he were absent from them in bodie, yet he would alwayes be present with them, by his holy Spirit.

I thinke our most mercifull LORD could not containe his teares, he had such tender compas­sion towards his sorrowfull Dis­ciples, so kinde was his affection towards them, so great was their reciprocall loue towards him.

Cleaue thou also (oh my soule) to this most holie and heauenly companie, and follow thy Lord, weeping and sighing, sorrowing and lamenting for him which go­eth to die for thy transgressions, and to be sacrificed for thy sinnes, say vnto him faithfully, Lord, I will follow thee wheresoeuer thou go­est, I am readie to goe with thee into prison, and to death.

Now alas, (oh my louing Iesus) thou doest arme thy beloued Dis­ciples with spirituall weapons, and dost labor by comfortable exhor­tations to expell cowardly feare out of their hearts, and to settle a constant courage in their doubt­full mindes, that they might not be dismayed in the day of perill, nor falsifie their Faith for dread of any worldly affliction.

But most wicked Iudas was busied to furnish the Iewes with deadly weapons, that they might [Page 110] wrongfully apprehend thee, and cruelly condemne thee to a shamefull death.

What damnable deed hast thou done thou detestable Traytor? What infernall Phrensie possessed thy minde? What hellish furie peruerted thy vnderstanding?

Thou didst leaue a most gentle Master, sitting at the Table with his Disciples, friendly eating, and familiarly talking with them (the KING OF HEAVEN, and soueraigne Lord of the whole earth) who was able to haue made thee partaker of his eternall king­dome, where thou mightest haue liued in happinesse without mea­sure, and ioy without end: and thou didst follow the Diuell, who led thee to the Iewes, to bargaine with them, to betray into their hands thy gracious Lord and bountious Master.

And as thou hast beene obe­dient [Page 111] to his will, so shalt thou be partaker of his reward, who abi­deth in the prison of euerlasting darkenesse, tormented in the fire, whose flame is neuer slaked, nor shall euer be extinguished.

But now (oh my soule) let vs leaue damned Iudas, a fearefull spectacle for all horrible Traitors, and let vs returne to innocent IESVS, entring into the Garden with his Disciples, where hee ex­horted them to watch carefullie, and to pray earnestly that they might not fall into temptation, nor runne into danger.

Here my Sauiour beganne to taste of the bitter Cup of sorrow, and to feele the pangs of hu­mane affliction, his spirits weari­ed with heauinesse, and his minde tyred with sadnesse, so that he cra­ued comfort of his Disciples, say­ing: Can yee not watch with me one houre?

Stay here (oh my soule) straine forth teares from thine eyes, and throng forth sighes from thy heart: draw neare and expresse thy compassion towards thine af­flicted Iesus.

Behold how his countenance is changed, & his face couered with palenesse, he is scant able to vtter in words, the sorrow of his heauy heart. And what doth hee say? My soule is heauie, euen vnto death.

Thy words (oh my most mer­cifull Iesus) doe not a little amaze my minde, and affright my per­plexed thoughts. For, what doest thou feare? why art thou touch­ed with sorrow? why art thou pressed with heauinesse? From whence (oh my louing Lord) doth arise the cause of thy sadnes? doest thou feare any imminent danger? Dost thou dread the pu­nishment which thou art about to suffer?

But for what other thing (oh sweet Lord) diddest thou come into the world? For what other end (most blessed Sauiour) didst thou assume flesh vnto thee in the wombe of the blessed Virgin, but that by thy death thou shouldest destroy our death, and saue that which was lost?

What benefit had we reaped by thy birth? how could we haue re­ioyced for the happie day of thy blessed Natiuitie, if our condemned soules had not beene redeemed to life by thy most precious death? If thou (oh my louing IESVS) hadst refused to die for mee, who should haue satisfied for my sins? what could haue cured my loath­some Leprosie, but the drops of thy Bloud? What could restore mee to life, but thy innocent death?

What did moue thee to dye for mee, but thy exceeding mercie? [Page 114] whereas (my louing Sauiour) thou wert subiect to feare, and heauie with the terrour of death: there appeared vnto vs the veritie of thy Humanitie, not exempted from the passions of our nature, yet al­wayes free from the infection of sinne, and cleare from the spots of iniquitie.

Wherefore wee may the more boldlie, bee most earnest Sutors, vnto thee, to obtaine thy succour in the time of our necessitie, and to call for thy sweet mercie in our bitter miserie, because wee are as­sured, that thou in thy Huma­nitie, hast had a sense of our suf­ferings.

Behold also now my soule, his faithfull and sorrowfull Disciples! looke vpon them, and view what store of teares doe fall from their eyes; heare what pittifull sighes and grieuous grones doe come from their hearts, while they see [Page 115] their louing Master vexed in his bodie, and afflicted in his soule, suffering the wrath of his Father for the guilt of our sinnes. After my louing IESVS had told his sadfull Disciples the heauinesse of his soule, pressed with the pon­derous waight of our sinnes, he de­parted from them about a stones cast, and kneeling on the earth, prayed vnto his heauenly Father, saying: My Father, all things are possible to thee; if it be possible, re­moue this Cup from mee, yet not my will, but thy will be done.

Learne here (oh my soule) of thine afflicted Sauiour, where to seeke a salue for thy wounds, and from whence thou maist hope for help, when any fearefull danger doth hang ouer thy head, or any present anguish torment thy hart, poure forth thy prayers in his ho­ly Sanctuarie; let thy deuotion as­cend vp to him, that his bene­diction [Page 116] may descend downe vpon thee: learne alwayes to submit thy wish to his will, for if it be not his will to deliuer thee, it will be his will alwayes to comfort thee, if thou continue thy prayers with perseuerance, and attend his ap­pointed time with patience.

Consider how thy Sauiour prayed three times, vttering the same words, when his pangs in his Agonie were so grieuous, and his paines so dolorous, that his sweate ranne downe like drops of bloud: so heauie was the displea­sure of his Father against him for our sinnes, so great was the bur­den of our iniquities imposed vp­on his shoulders.

But in the extremitie of his passions, and sorrow of his soule, his heauenly father sent downe an Angell from heauen to comfort him, for the Lord will neuer leaue them forsaken in their sorrow, [Page 117] that call vpon him faithfully: he hath commanded vs to call vpon him in our trouble, and he will de­liuer vs; and as he hath comman­ded the one, so will hee neuer faile to performe the other.

Draw me (oh my louing Lord) to the Garden where thou wert, that I may see thee praying, and suffer with thee in thy afflictions: call me and say, Come into my gar­den, my sister, my spouse: make hast oh my Soule, to come to thy Be­loued, because thy Beloued is gone vp into his garden, to his bed of spices, that hee may feede there, and gather Lillies.

Let vs consider, oh my Soule, and meditate attentiuely vpon all things which our Iesus hath done, let vs ruminate his feuerall acti­ons, which may afford vs consola­tion, and tend to our instruction. For we may take many examples from our louing Master, which [Page 118] should euermore be proposed be­fore our eyes, that wee might al­wayes imitate them in the course of our life.

Thou seest how our most gentle Master hath commanded his Dis­ciples to lincke their hearts toge­ther with the bands of true loue, and to arme themselues with pa­tience against the daies of danger, when he went to the mount Oliuet to pray. Wherefore being about to enter into a fearefull fight, to beginne a dangerous battell, and to encounter many deadly foes, hee animateth his courage, and armeth himselfe with prayers.

Learne thou also by this his example, in the day of thy tribula­tion, and houre of thy affliction, to haue thy speedy recourse vnto Prayer: Wee can finde no better weapon wherewith to offend our foes. Wee can vse no better shield wherewith to defend our friends.

Thou seest also my soule, how thy Sauiour Iesus preparing him­selfe to Prayer, did leaue the com­panie of his Disciples, and he one­ly selected three out of his num­ber, so that they three which be­fore had beene spectators in mount Tabor, of his glorious Transfigura­tion, might now be companions and eye-witnesses of his grieuous Passion: that in the mouth of two or three eue­ry word might be established.

Learne thou also to leaue the societie of men, when thou doest addresse thy selfe to talke with God. When thy Sauiour did pray, he ascended vp into a mountaine, to teach vs that although our bo­dies doe remaine vpon earth, yet our cogitations should mount and soare vp into heauen by the wings of deuout prayer: he pou­red forth the compassion of his heart, he being a good Shepheard doth diligently watch ouer his [Page 120] flocke: the extremitie of his owne passions doe not make him for­getfull of his Brethren.

Oh great loue! how constant­ly, euen vnto the end, did he ten­der and loue the little flocke of his faithfull Disciples, being indeede their most kinde and louing Pa­stor, when in the most grieuous fits of his heauy Agonie, and grea­test pangs of his Passion, he was carefull to procure their rest in that little time which was limited vnto them.

Teach me (my mercifull Iesu) not onely to be tender-hearted towards my poore Brethren, in the bright dayes of my flourishing prosperitie, but breed also within my bowels, such a feeling com­passion towards them in the hard time of my clowdie aduersitie, that I may not onely wish mine owne ease, and labour for mine owne cause, but also that I may be mind­full [Page 121] of others afflicted, and doe for them what I may, which are in the like wofull case.

Attend also to the lowly de­meanour and humble gesture of thy gentle Lord when hee pray­eth, who kneeling meekely on his knees, and falling flat on the earth with his face, Luke 22.41. Mark. 14.35. doth plainely discouer by the submissiue humiliation of his bo­die, the sincere humilitie of his minde.

Oh great, worthy, and won­derfull humilitie! when as he be­ing equall and coeternall with God, doth prostrate himselfe to the earth, when he prayeth his fa­ther, as though hee were a most base and wretched creature, and submitteth the issue of his Petiti­on, to the pleasure and will of his Father.

Oh how should I learne to hum­ble my soule, and prostrate my [Page 122] bodie, which am indeed nothing else but a sinke of sinne, and an vn­sauorie lumpe of iniquitie! When I addresse my selfe vnto holy pray­er, and come to put vp my petiti­on to a God of such infinite glory, should I not cast downe my high lookes; should I not curbe mine aspiring thoughts; should I not lay aside my proud attyre, and put on the mourning garment of sorrowfull and true Repentance?

Oh how should I which am but dust and ashes; yea, indeede no­thing else but a very masse of grie­uous misery, humble and cast downe my selfe, when I approach to speake to such a glorious Ma­iestie? I confesse I must stand a­loofe off with the poore publican, terrified with the horrour of my sinnes, which lye so heauie vpon my head, that I cannot lift vp mine eyes vnto heauen. Teach me (oh Lord) for none but thou can [Page 123] teach me to learne this hard les­son of true humilitie. This is the Ladder by which my prayers must ascend vp vnto thee, and thy Gra­ces descend downe vpon mee: I cannot enter into the Palace of thy most ioyfull and glorious Eter­nitie, vnlesse I passe through the straite dore of selfe-debasing hu­militie.

But now (oh my soule) turne thine eyes from thy Sauiours hu­militie, and take a suruey of his bitter pangs in his grieuous Ago­nie; whose heart was inflamed with heate, and all the parts of him so vexed with paine, that streames of sweate, mixed with drops of bloud, ranne downe from his sacred bodie, Luke 22.44. Oh would my head might be turned into a foun­taine or teares, and my bowels melt with tender compassion in this my sorrowfull meditation, when I thinke vpon the dolorous [Page 124] pangs, and dolefull paines which pressed drops of bloud out of the innocent flesh of mine afflicted Iesus.

Oh how was thy bodie pained? how was thy minde perplexed? how were all thy senses tired in this great worke of our Redemp­tion? How heauie is the weight of my sinnes, that dissolueth the blessed bodie of my Lord vnto such a wonderfull sweat? How is the beautie of thy face, which the Angels doe behold with ioy and gladnesse, changed with rednesse, through excessiue heate? how immoderately is it moistned with showers of watrish and bloudie sweate? Thou diddest but speake the word, and thy word was a worke at the first Creation, Gen. 1.3. But now I see thee sweating, toyling, yea, thy heart aking, while thou art acting the worke of our Redemption.

Oh wretched man, why am I so carelesse of the health of my soule, when it cost thee so deare a price to redeeme it? What shall I say? what shall I doe (my good Iesu) my heart is as hard as iron, and my bowels no softer then brasse, I haue no sense of tender compassion, nor any feeling of sorrowfull compunction: mine eies are as dry as the Pumise stone, I cannot shed one teare, to weepe for my sinnes, which were the source of thy sorrow, and the cause of thy passion. Indeed, my heart should distill drops of bloud, and mine eyes should trickle downe teares, when I meditate in my minde on the intolerable paines which thou didst suffer to satisfie the Iustice of thy Father for my grieuous sins, and to saue my guil­tie soule. Oh how can I excuse; nay rather, how should I but accuse my wretched and vile ingratitude?

Where shall I hide my head for shame? where shall I shrowd my selfe from thy presence? My con­science is a continuall witnesse against me, that I am an vncleane and polluted creature: I may not, I dare not approach vnto thee, vnlesse thou wash me in the sacred Lauer of thy precious bloud, for then I dare and may appeare be­fore thee.

Wherefore, haue mercie vpon me, shew me some pittie, my com­passionate Iesus: giue me a Foun­taine of teares, that I may weepe for my forgetfulnesse towards thee all the day, and water my bed for mine vn­gratitude, with my weeping, all the night: and so deepely imprint in my minde, the paines of thy Passi­on, that I may account all the time ill spent, and the day quite lost, wherein I doe not meditate on them: teach me to imitate thee, my mercifull IESVS, that with [Page 127] bended knees, and an humble heart, I may make my earnest prayer before thee; inspire my minde with thy holy Spirit, and then teares of true Repentance shall flow from mine eyes.

Send thy Angell (oh Lord) to bring mee consolation in the di­stressefull time of my tribulation, for thou hast ordained them to assist vs in our prayers, and to comfort vs in our sorrow.

And as thy Angell appeared to comfort thee, Luke 22.43. so also thou wilt neuer faile to send thine Angell to comfort vs, if wee pray vnto thee with true humilitie of minde, and sue vnto thee with heartie sorrow for our sinnes.

Instruct mee also, after thine example, (my blessed Sauiour) not to despaire of thy mercie, al­though it be long before I receiue any comfort.

Thou didst pray three times [Page 128] before thou hadst any consola­tion in thine Agonie, or any an­swere from thy heauenly Father; and as the fiercenesse of thy grie­uous Passion was augmented, so the feruencie of thy most holie prayer was increased. Mat, 26.44. that by thy patience, our courage might the better bee cheared, and our Christian Magnanimitie more firmely resolued to tollerate Famine, Nakednesse, Persecution, or any affliction whatsoeuer, with constancie and meeknesse: build­ing our hope vpon a firme rocke of a stedfast resolution, that wee shall eyther haue deliuerance out of trouble, or comfort in our tri­bulation, all in good time, day, houre; yea, minute and moment, which the Lord hath appointed.

It is thy owne worke, it is thy onely mercie, my mercifull Saui­our, to corroberate our mindes, and confirme our hearts, with [Page 129] this constant and Christian reso­lution.

Wherefore I beseech thee for thy bountifull mercie, for thy mercie is my onely merit, to work such a resolute constancie in me, that in the bitter brunts of afflicti­on, I may depend vpon thy wake­full prouidence, and wholie sub­mit my selfe vnto thy diuine will, knowing that nothing can hap­pen to thy Children, but that which thou hast determined to be most expedient for them, whether they liue at rest in prosperitie, or be tryed like gold in the fire of aduersitie.

A Meditation how IESVS ari­sing from Prayer, went to meete Iudas, and of the multitude which came to ap­prehend him, and how Peter cut off one of their eares. MED. VII.

AFter IESVS had receiued consolation by his Prayer, he went forth to meete false-hearted Iudas, who had solde him for a prey to the bloud-thirstie Iewes, for he knew that the time did ap­proach, and that the houre drew neere, wherein hee should glorifie his heauenly Father, and accomplish [Page 131] the wonderfull worke of our Redemp­tion.

Here (oh my Soule,) the first matter of our Meditation, is the monstrous ingratitude of a grace­lesse Disciple towards his gracious and louing Master: how odious is his deede vnto my thoughts? how doth his hellish madnes tor­ment my minde?

Oh that my tongue might be more bitter then gall, to exclaime against the dissembling hypocri­sie of such a deceitfull Disciple: and my speech more sweet then honie, to proclaime the singular sinceritie of so louing a Master, that our soules might abhorre the infidelitie of the one, and our hearts for euermore, imbrace the faithfulnesse of the other.

Oh thou most wicked wretch, thou wretched, stubborne, and obstinate Traitor, thou Childe of the Diuell, thou Sonne of perdition, [Page 132] what furious malice hardened thy heart?

How wert thou brought to such raging madnesse? how could the light of thy reason be so darke­ned? how couldest thou be so grosly seduced, that thou should'st betray thy most louing Master, and my most gracious Lord?

Was there no sparke of grace left in thy breast? had impudence so blinded thine eyes, and crueltie taken such sure possession in thy heart, that nothing could change thy bloudie minde, and stay the rage of thy franticke moode, wherewith the Diuell had bewit­ched thy soule, and poisoned thy affections?

Thou goest about in thy mon­strous madnesse, and vnbride­led furie to kill the immortall Lord, who is Truth it selfe, to direct vs; and Life it selfe to quic­ken vs: and to bring him to the [Page 133] slaughter, who onely is able, and none but hee, to bring all men to death, & to restore all men to life.

Tell me (I pray thee) thou wic­ked and foolish mad-man, wert not thou also, as well as the other Disciples, with the Lord IESVS, when he reuiued the mayden which was dead; when he cured the Sonne of the Ruler; when he raised Laza­rus out of his graue; when he clean­sed the Lepers, healed the man sicke of the Palsie; deliuered them which were possessed with Diuels; when he made him to see, which was borne blinde, and restored many others to their sight?

Tell mee I pray thee, had hee beene able to haue done these mi­racles, if God had not beene with him? What Aegiptian darknesse had blinded thine eyes, that thou couldest not see his diuinitie? what Ignorance had blinde-folded thy vnderstanding, that thou couldest [Page 134] not know him to be the Sonne of God by his admirable workes? Where wert thou, when at two sundrie times, he fed a great multi­tude of people, with a little bread and a few fishes?

But to let these mercifull and miraculous workes passe, which hee did for others; why did not these gracious and charitable deedes which hee performed to­ward thee, so mooue thy minde, that although thou hadst imagi­ned, yet thou mightest not haue practised thy horrible intended mis­chiefe against him?

Remember thou most wretched creature, and vngratefull Disciple, how thy humble Master washed thy feete. Iohn 13.5.

How should this wonderfull hu­militie of so great a Master haue humbled thy minde, being so base a Seruant? Remember how hee alwaies extended the tokens of [Page 135] his loue to thee, as hee did to the other Apostles, yet no kindnesse could restraine thy wicked will, nor change thy couetous minde.

Consider thou most vngrate­full and cruell Traitor, how often my louing Iesus did mildely ad­monish thee, that thou shouldest retire from thy wicked purpose, whose all-seeing eye was able to penetrate into the darkest corners of thy heart, and to search the se­crets of thy inward bowels.

It might haue checked thy guiltie conscience, when hee said (after hee had washed his Disci­ples feete) Yee are cleane, but not all: Iohn 13.11. And againe, I speake not of all of you, I know whom I haue chosen, Iohn 13.18.

But although these generall reprehensions were motiues of small moment, to mollifie thy stonie heart, yet hee spake vnto thee particularly, saying: Doe that [Page 136] quickely which thou art about to doe, Iohn 13.27. Didst thou not cleare­ly see that hee knew thy inward thoughts, and the secret plot of thy wicked counsell?

And who but God is able to know the secrets of the heart, and to discouer our hidden cogi­tations?

But was not thy heart as flin­tie as an Adamant, that it did not relent with sorrow? was not thy fore-head as hard as brasse, that thou didst not blush for shame? Were not thine eyes more drie then a rocke, that they could shed no teares, when thy louing Ma­ster, and my beloued Lord said mildelie vnto thee, What Iudas, doest thou betray the Sonne of man with a kisse? Luke 22.48.

Oh great humilitie! exceeding meekenesse! most admirable cle­mencie of my Sauiour Iesus! Yet neither the mildnes of his words, [Page 137] nor wonderfulnesse of his works could soften thy obdurate heart, or reclaime thy obstinate minde, oh thou pernicious Traitor! My Sauiour called him friend, Mat. 26.10. whom hee knew to be a direfull foe, that the meeknesse of the name, might haue a little cal­med the furie of his nature: but the Diuell had sowed such naugh­tie seede in the furrowes of his co­uetous heart, that hee became a wicked guide, to deliuer his lo­uing Master into the hands of his bloudie enemies, who hating his innocent life, had longed for op­portunitie, to put him to a cruell and shamefull death.

Tell mee thou damned Iudas, what brought thee into such an hellish Phrensie, that thou didst complot with the bloudie Iewes to betray thy gracious Lord with a token of kindnesse? Had thirstie Couetousnesse so inflamed thy [Page 138] minde that thou didst run head­long to sell thy soule for a little piece of monie.

If thou hadst come like a foe, thy crime had not beene so hay­nous, nor thy crueltie so odious: But thou like a cousening hypo­crite, didst cunningly maske thy deadly hate with the vizard of counterfeit loue.

Thou didst salute my louing Iesus with no friendly, but a dead­ly kisse, that with this token of peace and kindnesse, thou migh­test cast a mist before the eyes of his faithfull Disciples, that they might thinke thou hadst nothing to doe with those wicked persons who came to apprehend their Lord & Master: thou thoughtest thou haddest complotted so cun­ningly, and contriued thy matters so carefully, that all should haue beene hidden in darknesse, and no man haue knowne thy damnable [Page 139] practise, but onely the cursed crue of thy confederates: but the Di­uill who was the author to allure thee to this mischiefe, did beguile thee with a deceitfull imagination, and so he will doe all others that follow thy crooked steppes, and walke in thy cursed waies. Such iugling hypocriticall trickes may often be hooded from the dim sight of men, but they can neuer be hidden from the all-seeing eye of Almightie God: thou camest with a word of peace in thy mouth, when thou didst pretend nothing but warre in thy heart: thy speech was as soft as Butter, but thy inward thoughts were more sharpe then a Raisor: thou didst presume to offer a Traitors kisse, Mat. 26.49. to my blessed Sauiour, when thy lips were full of poyson, and thy throate an o­pen Sepulcher: thou camest like a subtle Foxe to salute him with a [Page 140] word of health, when thou wert a wicked guide to a hand of cruell Soul­diers, who meant him nothing but hurt; so strong was the desire of filthie lucre to hale thee to mis­chiefe, so eager was thy greedie appetite to bite at this pleasant baite, that thou couldest not see the killing hooke. For when thou didst sell the precious life of thy louing Master, thou didst giue thy damned Soule to the Diuell, to be tormented with him for euer, in the fire which flameth continu­ally, and burneth so extreamely, that the paines of the least spar­kle of it are more then intollera­ble: wherefore my sweet Iesu, so mollifie my heart, and moderate my minde, which am thy most vnworthy Seruant, that I may not giue such direfull and deadly kis­ses vnto thee, which art my most kinde and louing Master. And grant vnto mee by thy gracious [Page 141] clemencie, that I may offer vnto thee the sweet kisses of loyall Obe­dience and constant Loue, that my Soule may say vnto thee, Kisse me with the kisses of thy mouth, Cant. 1.1. for thy loue is better then wine. Run (oh my soule) and nei­ther let the baites of terrene plea­sure, nor the brunts of worldlie sorrow hinder thee in thy way, when thou goest to kisse thy sweet and louing Iesus. But first of all kisse his blessed feete, and bathe them, as Mary did, with the teares of true repentance, sighing and groaning with sense of thy sinnes, that the comfort of his mercie may be extended vnto thee, when such welcome tokens of thy loue are bestowed vpon him. Prostrate thy selfe (oh my Soule) on the earth, that thou maist cease to be wretched. Imbrace the feete of thy IESV, pacifie them with thy teares, who spared not to poure [Page 142] forth bloud out of his feet, hands, heart, and side, to clense thy pollu­tion, and to wash away thy sinnes: so that after thy sorrowfull con­trition, thou maist heare him pro­nounce vnto thee, the ioyfull word of saluation; saying, Thy sinnes are forgiuen thee. And now my Soule, after wee haue fallen downe before the Lord in true humilitie, and haue powred out before him the teares of an vn­fained contrition: let vs arise with a comfortable heart, to kisse his blessed hands. And then doe we kisse his gracious hands with a reuerent and lowly heart, when our mouthes are filled with his worthy praises, for his bountifull benefits freely bestowed vpon vs, proclaiming his wonderfull mer­cie, and disclaiming our vnwor­thie merit, whose hand hath raised vs vp out of the mire, and hath aduanced vs to euerlasting honor. [Page 143] Lastly, after wee haue reuerently kissed his hands, wee may more boldlie approach to kisse his bles­sed mouth; to behold the glorie of our Creator, that the bright beames of his countenance may illuminate our obscure vnderstan­ding, and that his sweet breath may so inspire our soules, that all our cogitations may be consonable, and our actions conformable to his most holy will.

Shew vs the light of thy coun­tenance, oh my louing Iesus, and then our hearts shall be filled with gladnesse, and wee shall be satis­fied with the abundance of thine euerlasting goodnesse: for to see the beautie of thy face is our chie­fest felicitie, and to be banished from thy face is our endlesse mi­serie. Therefore kisse the Sonne lest he be angry, for if his wrath be kindled (yea but a little) blessed are all they that trust in him. Psal. 2.12. Thou [Page 144] hast heard, oh my soule, how trai­terous Iudas betrayed my inno­cent Iesus: consider the crueltie of the one, wonder at the milde­nesse of the other.

Oh that all treacherous per­sons and bloudie minded Trai­tors might haue a view of despe­rate Iudas, strangling himselfe with an Halter; that the horror of his cursed death vpon earth, and the terror of his continuall paines in hell, might stay the rage of their furious mindes, and manacle their bloudie hands: For al­though desperate Iudas was so tor­mented with horror of a guiltie conscience, that hee could haue no peace in his fearefull thoughts, nor chuse but crie in his tormen­ting miseries, depriued of all hope of comfortable mercie, I haue sinned in betraying the innocent bloud, Matth. 27.4. and could finde no other medicine to cure [Page 145] his desperate maladie, but the helpe of an halter, being his owne Hang-man, to shorten his woe­full dayes vpon earth, that hee might make the more haste to a­bide euerlasting torments in hell: yet there are manie whose hearts are so sore infected with his vene­mous humour, and their thoughts so poisoned with greedie desires of vnlawfull gaine, that they make no conscience to betray their Prince and Countrie, to prooue disobedient and cruell to their naturall Parents, and faithlesse to their dearest friends: yea, to sell Heauen, their soules, and themselues, for a base piece of money: but woefull is their inheritance which buy Hell for their purchase. Yet let mee not so bitterly inueigh against the monstrous fact of cursed Iudas, that I forget the mildenesse of my mercifull IESVS, who did [Page 146] not rate and reuile him, calling him in name (as hee was indeede) a damnable Traitor, saluting his Master with a kisse as a token of his loue: but (alas) it was onely to betray him.

My patient Sauiour Iesus cal­led him by the name of a friend, Mat. 26.50. whom hee knew to be a deadly foe, that the mildnesse of the name might haue bred re­morse in his heart, but that the Diuell had taken full possession in his minde, and ruled powerful­ly ouer his thoughts.

But why did my louing Saui­our vse such affable words to such a detestable Traitor? It was to teach mee to represse mine affe­ctions from raging furie, when any of his wicked brood lie in waite to take away my life, and secretly seeke to contriue my death.

Teach mee my Iesu, to imitate [Page 147] thy patience, when my curtesie is rewarded with crueltie, when supposed friends proue faithlesse, and when my kindnesse is recom­penced with bad words, and re­warded with worse deedes. Thou hast willed vs to blesse them that curse vs, and to pray for our perse­cutors, Mat. 5.44. But our flesh is wayward, and it cannot away with this doctrine, wherefore I beseech thee my gracious Lord, to lend me thy helping hand, it is thine owne worke to con­forme my minde to thy blessed will, that I may be made obse­quious and obedient to thy sacred Law.

But now (my Soule) turne a­side thine eies from hatefull Iu­das, to looke vpon louing Peter, who beganne to be touched with the heate of true loue, when hee saw his Master attached by the hands of his enemies, and did [Page 148] boldlie obiect his owne life vnto danger, that hee might deliuer his harmelesse Master out of perill, and that hee might performe in deede that which a little before he had professed in word, Mat. 26.35. Ioh. 18.10. As his loue was much, so his courage was great in the defence of his dearelie beloued Master, hee regarded not the mul­titude that came against him, hee respected not how well they were armed, his true heart dreaded no danger.

But so soone as hee saw his dread master Iudasly betraied, and cruellie apprehended by his mali­cious foes, he drew out his sword and laid about him, and cut off Malchus his eare.

Thy loue was strong, louing Peter, although thy strength was feeble, to resist so manie, so ill-minded, and so well armed: I cannot but commend thee for [Page 149] thy loue, although thy louing Master doth not praise thee for thy deede; thou diddest shew a token of thy feruent loue and af­fection, although (alas) he stood not in neede of thy weake prote­ction: my louing Sauiour came to fulfill the will of his Father, to suffer death; yea, to suffer a cruell and shamefull death on the crosse, that we might be restored to life, be freed, and deliuered from the curse.

It was the feruencie of thy loue, that had inflamed thy aged heart with courage, thou couldest not hold thy hands, when thou did­dest see thy beloued Master so violently apprehended, so cur­rishly handled, and haled to the slaughter.

For whosoeuer (my louing Sa­uiour) hath his heart knit vnto thee with bands of true loue, hee dreadeth no danger for thy sake, [Page 150] but will be more willing to for­goe his life, then to leaue his true loue. But thou diddest not desire (my louing Iesus) nay, thou didst not allow that Peter should shew his manhood, or attempt by anie force to rescue thee out of the hands of thy cruell foes: thou diddest disclose vnto thy faithfull Disciples, the dangerous daies that were to come, and tell them of the bitter afflictions which were to ensue, and that they should be like Sheepe scattered without a Shepheard. But it was not that they should arme their bodies with weapons, but their heads and soules with patience. So indeed the loue of thy Apostle was full of zeale, but yet it was barren & void of knowledge, who had beene often forewarned that thou shouldest suffer a cruell and shamefull death to fulfill the scrip­ture, and do the will of thy Father.

Wherefore (oh my most mer­cifull Iesus) so inflame my heart with thy loue, that I may freelie confesse it with my mouth, and so performe it with my heart, that I may not onely be prepared to loose my libertie, but to forgoe my life for the name of my Lord Iesus, who is blessed for euer.

A Meditation how the Lord Iesus taken and bound, was led to Annas his house, where he was buffeted, and how all his Disciples fied from him. Iohn 18.13. MED. VIII.

SO soone as false-hearted Iudas had saluted his faithfull Ma­ster Iesus with a deadlie kisse, the hard-hearted Souldiers laid vio­lent hands vpon my kinde Saui­our, and did cruellie binde him.

Oh vngentle cords! oh cruell [Page 153] hands and cursed hearts, that did binde my Lord Iesus!

Come hither therefore (oh my Soule) and with inward sorrow of heart, and with weeping eies, lament with tender compassion for the currishnesse in words, and crueltie in deedes, vsed against thy mercifull Sauiour, which pa­tientlie suffered so manie bitter words and cruell blowes, for thee and thy sinnes: for it was now the houre of darknesse, and they beganne to act with their merci­lesse hands, that which was con­ceiued in their malicious mindes, reuiling him with blasphemous speeches, and afflicting his preci­ous bodie with deadlie blowes.

And thus they neuer ceased all that night long, both with their venemous tongues and villanous hands to torment my meeke and patient Iesus.

Tell mee (my sweet Sauiour) [Page 154] vvhat vvere the contumelious words, what were the outragious deedes which thou didst suffer of those dogged Souldiers, vvhen they had laid their tormenting hands vpon thee?

For truely, the wicked rose vp against thee, and the Sinagogue of the mightie, they sought thy life, and set not God before their eyes.

They compassed thee about like Bees, and burnt with furie a­gainst thee, like fire among the Thornes.

Oh let some spectacle of their barbarous crueltie be presented vnto mee, that mine eyes may waxe dim with weeping, that my heart may be wounded with sor­row, & all my senses afflicted with mourning: for my guiltie consci­ence doth tell mee, that my sinnes were as fewell to kindle their rage, and mine iniquities, like wood to maintaine the fire of their furie.

Behold, Oh my Soule, vvith attentiue deuotion of minde, and with store of teares flowing from thine eyes, how furiously they rush vpon thy louing Sauiour, and how cruelly with their blou­die hands, they torture and vexe his blessed body.

One tuggeth him by his gar­ment, another haleth him by the armes: one taketh holde of his necke, another pulleth him by the haire: and least he should get from them, they binde him, and drag him like an vntamed Bull to the shambles.

Oh most meeke Lambe! Oh most milde sheepe! how currish­lie, how cruelly art thou hand­led like a wicked theefe?

Yea, was euer any common theefe so inhumanely and shame­fully vsed, although his life vvas odious, and his deedes neuer so desperate?

Some hale him on this side, some thrust him on that side, some buffet him on the face, others thumpe him on the backe: After they haue reuiled and railed a­gainst him with most opprobri­ous words, they passe from diuel­lish words, to deadlie blowes, so that they neuer cease by word nor deede to grieue and vexe mine in­nocent Iesus, but imployed all the faculties of their minde, and all the forces of their bodie, to doe him all hurt, who neuer meant them any harme.

I am not able to tell thee, my sorrowfull soule, one halfe of the odious words, nor one moitie of the horrible deedes which those damned wretches vsed against thy harmelesse and louing Sauiour: my tongue doth falter for griefe, and my speech doth faile mee for sorrow, for all of them bitterlie cursing him, and cruellie beating [Page 157] him, void of all mercie, and ra­ging with hellish furie, they hale him (like a most innocent Lambe) to the slaughter.

And amongst all that cursed crew, there was none so soft­hearted, that either would pittie the woefull case, or speake in the cause of my gracious Lord.

Oh how should mine eies haue beene watered with teares, and my heart haue beene wounded with sorrow, to haue seene my merci­full Iesus so vnmercifullie abused, so ignominiouslie and hatefullie misused, whiles they hurrie him in their madnesse, and hale him in their furie towards Hierusalem; who went as an innocent Lambe, a­mong a company of deuouring Wolues, not once opening his mouth to re­proue them for their barbarous crueltie, but did willingly sustaine the extremitie of their malice, with a patient minde, sometime haled [Page 158] by one, and sometime thrust for­ward by another, thinking the time long, till they might bring him where they would haue him: so greedy was their desire to doe a bad deede, and they made such post-hast, to hasten the death of the Lord of life.

Oh my most sweet Iesu, what hast thou done? What hast thou deserued, that thou shouldest en­dure the sting of their malice, and abide the tempest of their mad­nesse?

Verilie my Lord, thou didst ne­uer offend them in thought, but thy exceeding loue did moue thee to suffer all things with patience, that thou mightst redeeme mee a most wretched sinner, & all others, that with a contrite hart & a bro­ken spirit, sue vnto thee for grace, hauing an assured hope in thy blessed word, and confidently be­leeuing in thy gracious promises.

I am that wofull man, which haue beene the occasion of thy torments, and the cause of thy grieuous Passion. The wicked man hath sinned, and the righteous is pu­nished. The guilty hath trespassed, and the innocent is tormented. The vngod­ly hath offended, and the godly man is condemned.

Oh my most louing Lord, I haue eaten a sowre grape, and thy teeth are set on edge. I haue commit­ted the trespasse, and thou hast suf­fered the punishment.

Blush therefore (oh my soule) for shame; smite thy heart for sorrow: let thine eyes be dissolued into teares, and sacrifice thy selfe vpon the Altar of true repentance, be­cause thou hast beene so forget­fully vngratefull towards thy lo­uing IESVS, for his maruellous kindnesse, and so excessiuely vn­mindfull of his excellent loue.

Oh my (good Iesu) what shall [Page 160] I render vnto thee, for thy great bountie? What shall I yeeld vnto thee, for thy gracious mercie?

I haue nothing, O Lord, thou knowest my pouertie; I acknowledge my needy necessitie: I haue con­fessed my most haynous sinnes and grieuous offences before thy face.

I haue not hidden mine vn­righteousnesse out of thy sight.

Wherefore (oh my most boun­tifull Lord) supply that by thy in­finite liberalitie, which is wanting by reason of my vile ingratitude: And thou which art onely able, create a thankfull heart in me, thy poore vnworthy seruant, that it may euermore be delighted with the remembrance of thy goodnes, and still be ioyfull with the sweet meditation of thy mercies.

But now, oh my Soule, medi­tate a while, how sodaine feare had quailed the loue of the Disci­ples [Page 161] of my distressed Sauiour. For being terrified with his vnexpect­ed and cruell apprehension, and dreading their owne danger, they fled away, leauing their Lord and be­loued Master. Mark. 14.50.

Then thou mightest truely say (oh most sweet Iesu) They which saw me, fled from me, I am forgotten as a dead man out of minde.

And againe, Thou hast put my friends, my neighbours, and acquain­tance farre from mee. Also, that was verified which the Prophet had fore-tolde, All my friends haue for­saken mee, and they that lay in waite haue preuailed against me: He whom I loued hath betrayed mee. For so wert thou left alone my louing Iesus, and they which were neere vnto thee made hast to be gone, and would tarrie no longer with thee.

Consider further, oh my soule, the disciples of my Sauiour flying [Page 162] for feare, and lamenting with sor­row, when they saw their most be­loued master traiterously betrayed, ignominiously abused, and led like an innocent Lambe to the shambles.

Attend to their sighing and groning, to their weeping and moning, for loath they were, to leaue so louing and so well belo­ued a Master.

But why should feare of dan­ger haue bin so violent, or dread of death so strong, as to pull them from so deare a friend?

They professed they would re­maine constant, and that no af­fliction should abate their cou­rage, but their words proued no deedes, and all was but vaine pre­sumption: Selfe-loue of their owne securitie, made them for­sake their distressed Master in his captiuitie.

But tell mee bold-hearted Pe­ter, why didst thou like a coward [Page 163] forsake thy faithfull Maister? Didst thou professe so much, and performe so little? Was thy man­hood so soone quailed, when thou was put to thy triall? I know thou didst shew some signe of courage, and thou beganst to play the man when thy Maister was first appre­hended, but it was but done in a fit of thine anger, and thy heate was soone cooled: thy promise great, and thy performance little: when thou wert in mount Tabor, and saw but some beames; yea, ra­ther some sparkles of the eternall glory of thy blessed Maister, then thy senses were so rauished, and thy minde so amazed, that thou diddest crie out, Bonum est esse hic, Mat. 17.1. Marke 9.2. Luke 9.28. It is good to be here, let vs build three Tabernacles: but now thou doest not say, Bonum est esse hic: It is good to tarry here with my poore disgraced Master.

Say thou didst loue thy Master well, yet it appeareth thou didst loue thy selfe better: oh why did­dest thou make such a vaine ostentation of thy courage, and yet afterwards shew thy selfe such a coward?

But take heed, oh my soule, that thou dost not so vehemently in­ueigh against faint-hearted Peter, and the rest of his fearefull fel­lowes, that thou forget thy selfe, and passe by thine owne infirmity.

Wee all loue Christ, when our cups may ouerflow with wine, and our bellies be filled with the finest wheate, but the heate of our loue is quick­ly cooled, if but a small blast of stormie persecution doe bluster against vs.

Wee all desire to dwell vvith him, as did rauished Peter, when his eyes vvere dazeled vvith the beames of his glory, appearing vnto him on Mount Tabor.

But all of vs flye from him, or follow him a-loofe-off, when wee see him going to Golgotha: We dare presume to say with forward Peter; Lord, if all leaue thee, I will not forsake thee. Mat. 26.33. Mark. 14.29. Iohn 13.37. But alas when wee come to the tryall, we are rea­die to flie and leaue the field, at the first alarme.

Wee could all be content to eate pleasant hony, and to feede our selues with sweet milke: but our mouthes are filled with murmu­ring, and our hearts with grud­ging: the time is long, and the iourney tedious, while wee trauell in the wildernes of this world to­wards heauenly Canaan. Exod. 17.2.

Alas, were the Disciples of my Sauiour, so fearefull at the first en­counter, who had beene so often fore-tolde of that day, and had beene so well instructed by their louing Maister, to arme them­selues [Page 166] against the assaults of affli­ction?

Then how can I poore worme boast of my strength, and vaunt of my manly courage? How should I holde out vnto the end, when such stout Souldiers begin to shrinke at the beginning of the battell?

I know mine owne imbecili­tie, my powerfull Lord, I confesse mine infirmitie, I feele my heart quake, and I perceiue my cou­rage to quaile, so soone as I see but a darke cloud of affliction, and stand in dread of euery storme of persecution.

Strengthen my heart, oh Lord, with Christian Fortitude, that my minde may not be dismayed with feare, nor my senses drowned with the streames of immoderate sorrow, whensoeuer I must drinke of the bitter waters of affliction for the profession of thy name, or [Page 167] feele the pricking thornes of per­secution in my sides, for the con­fession of thy truth.

Teach me to take vp my crosse, and to follow thee, and that I may not be ashamed of this noble badge of true Christianitie.

Instruct mee to know that af­fliction is the lot of thy Chil­dren, and that thou vvilt haue their Faith tryed in the fiery fur­nace: and graunt mee (oh Lord) such a plentifull measure of thy quickning grace, that although my fraile flesh beginne to trem­ble, and my weake heart to faint at the first assault of danger, and I seeke a corner to hide my head in, in the time of trouble, yet that I may not flye so farre from thee, but that I may quickly returne to thee as Peter and Iohn did, who loued, and were so dearely belo­ued of thee, and as the rest of thy Disciples did, after thy glorious [Page 168] resurrection, and in the sorrow­full time of calamitie, trouble and persecution, so mittigate the do­lor of my passions, that I may en­dure all extremities with Christi­an patience, knowing that all the afflictions of this world are but momentarie, and that the ioyes prepared for the faithfull after this life, are innumerable, and shall endure eternally.

Now let vs leaue the sorrow­full Disciples, and come to our lo­uing Iesus, who being bound was presented to Annas by the wicked Iewes, who examined him con­cerning his Disciples, and concer­ning his doctrine. Ioh. 18.19. And although the humilitie of my Sa­uiour was great, and his modestie no lesse in returning a gracious answere vnto him: yet Malchus (whose eare he had a little before restored, which Peter cut off) gaue him a blow on the face, saying, [Page 169] Answerest thou the high Priest in that manner? Iohn 18.22.

Here my soule thou hast good occasion to eate thy bread vvith teares, and to mingle thy drinke with weeping, when thou dost me­ditate of this cruell blow, giuen by a most wicked vngratefull wretch, to my innocent Iesus.

And here thou maist admire at the incomparable mildnesse, and wonder at the wonderfull pati­ence of my gentle Sauiour, who did modestly beare so great an in­iurie, that hee gaue not him an euill word, who had done him such a cruell deede, but said to him mildly: friend, if I haue spoken euilly beare witnesse of euill: but if I haue said well, why smitest thou mee? Iohn 18.23. Oh how great was thy hu­militie alwayes my good Iesus? how exceeding was thy patience in all things euen vnto death?

But what shall I say, oh thou [Page 170] barbarous & vngratefull wretch, how shall I speake bitter enough of thy monstrous crueltie, which diddest smite him on the face contrary to all humanitie, who of his owne accord did speedily heale the hurt, and salue the wound which his disciple had gi­uen thee? Oh monster amongst men, vnworthy of any pittie, whose name shall be odious to all that are good, when they heare of thy crueltie! Behold, oh my sweet Iesus what plentifull matter is offered vnto me, to breed a seri­ous meditation in my minde, and to engender a sincere compassion in my heart, when I remember (oh that I could continually remem­ber it) what clemencie, what benig­nitie thou hast vsed towards me, what calamity, what indignitie thou hast suffered for mee: for thou wert so treacherously betrayed, so wrongfully apprehended, so iniuriously [Page 171] bound, so currishly haled, so cruelly tormented, and so vnmercifully bea­ten for the sinnes of my guilty soule. But I pray thee, my merci­full and gracious IESVS, that as thou didst yeeld thy selfe a captiue to the Iewes, so thou wilt grant me thy grace to subiugate all my senses to doe thy blessed will, and to keepe them in true subiection, to obey thy holy law, and that I may captiuate all my vnderstanding, to performe the duties of thy hap­pie seruice, which shall redeeme me from bondage, and bring mee an euerlasting freedome as thy faith­full Apostle hath taught me.

A Meditation how the Lord Ie­sus was led from the house of Annas to the house of Caiaphas, and also of the derisions, rayling speeches, and cruell scourging done vnto him there by the Iewes. MED. IX.

A Wake now, (oh my Soule,) sleepe no longer in the bed of wanton sensualitie, driue away drowsinesse from thine eyes, and carelesse sloathfulnesse out of thy minde, and turne thy selfe whol­lie to thy most sweet IESVS, dis­dainefully [Page 173] dispised, scornefully derided, cruelly tormented, and vnmercifully scourged. Oh how should thy hart be fraughted with sadnesse, and thy minde be filled with sorrow, when thou shalt finde thy Lord thy God subiect to paines and af­flictions, blowes and reproches? For hee was whipped all the night, and hee was chastized in the mor­ning.

Therefore let thine eyes waxe dimme with weeping, let thy ioy be turned into mourning, & the voice of melody into wofull lamentation; when thou dost meditate vpon the sorrowfull miseries, and scornefull reproches which thy innocent Sa­uiour did suffer for thy sake.

Let all vaine cogitations, and idle thoughts be chased out of my mind, by which it may be fondly distracted, and vainely shiuered in this godly Meditation, so that it may be wholy reflected towards [Page 174] thee, and thinke vpon nothing but thee, my most mercifull Iesu.

Let it thinke vpon the contu­melious reproches, odious raylings, and grieuous blowes, vvhich thou didst suffer, being vnder the hands of the wicked Priests, as a harme­lesse Sheepe amongst rauenous Wolues, or in the midst of deuou­ring Lions.

And grant mee, oh my sweet Lord, that while I ponder these things in my minde, teares of true repentance may fall from mine eyes, and sighes of vnfained sor­row arise from my heart, to be­waile the horrour of my sinnes, which were as cruell tormentors to afflict thy body, and as sharpe-pointed needles, to enter into thy tender flesh.

Lastly, let vs meditate deuout­ly (oh my soule) how my kinde Iesus was posted ouer vnto Caia­phas, after hee had beene derided [Page 175] and buffeted in the house of An­nas.

Beholde how this innocent Lambe vvas haled to the sham­bles, by the hands of those blou­die Butchers!

Behold thy beloued IESVS, brought vvith his hands bound before Caiaphas the high Priest, enuironed with a great multitude of Scribes and Pharises: all cry out against him: the base people raile vpon him, with vile and odi­ous words: banning and cursing him for his blessed deedes, they maliciously accuse him, & wrong­fully charge him, but their testi­monies were found to be false, and their witnesses vntrue.

Truely thou maiest say that which the Prophet spake of thee, They deliuered mee into the hands of the vngodly, and they cast me forth among the wicked, and they haue not spared my life. The strong were ga­thered [Page 176] against me, and they stood like Giants against me.

But although their demean our towards thee (my louing Sauiour) was without all pietie, and their words and deedes without all pit­tie, yet thou diddest not open thy mouth, to vtter any word of re­proofe, but thou didst heare their spitefull taunts with patience, and answere their malicious calum­niations with silence: and there­fore the high Priest began to be displeased: and rising vp from his seate, asked thee in his anger, why thou diddest not answere to those things which were obiected against thee? Mat. 26.62.

Attend (oh my soule) and con­sider the vnspeakeable mildenesse of my sweet Iesus, how patiently, how humblie hee holdeth his tongue, as one that were dumbe, and could not speake, and remai­neth as one that were deafe, when [Page 177] they reuile him in their madnes, and raile vpon him in their furie, sustaining with patience their false calumniations, and forged obiections.

And therefore his wonderfull patience did make them more mad, and his silence did the more exasperate them in their furie, when they saw him so meekely to disgest the venome of their viru­lent tongues, and so mildely to suf­fer the blowes of their violent fists, so that being transported with choller, beyond the limits of modestie, & carried with rage, be­yond the bounds of reason, they belched out such impious and cla­morous speeches against him, Hast thou no tongue, thou most wicked wretch? Behold, art thou dumbe, and canst not speake one word? What is become of thy babling? Where are thy long discourses, and plausible speeches, which thou diddest make [Page 178] to the multitude in the Temple, and to the seditious people in the streetes?

Then thou wert full of words, and thy tongue did not cease to prattle, when multitudes did flocke after thee through the Ci­ties, and when the base people did swarme after thee, through the villages and desarts.

And art not thou hee which preaching to the rude multitude in the Temple, and pleasing their giddie humor with thy long ora­tions, was so impudent to inueigh against vs, Pharises, Doctors of law, and Rulers of the people, calling vs hypocrites? checking vs rude­ly for our Manners, and reproo­uing vs rashly for our Doctrine, neither respecting the dignitie of our persons, nor dreading the force of our authoritie?

Now behold, wee haue thee sure enough, thou canst not escape [Page 179] our hands, thou art bound for feare of starting, we are no babes, to be wonne with faire wordes? Now we haue thee, thou wretch, as thy wicked deedes haue deser­ued, such shall be thy recompense.

Wee are none of the rude and base multitude, thou canst not gull vs with thy flattering speeches, nor beguile vs with false apparitions.

Suppose (oh my wofull soule) that thou doest heare the cruell Iewes, bellowing out such bitter taunts against my harmelesse and innocent Iesus, in the heate of their rage, adding more cruell deeds, to their cruell words, for all of them like mad-men rush vpon him in their violent furie: Some thumpe him with their hands, some spurne him vvith their feet, some strike him on the necke, and as their hands vvere nimble to load him with blowes, so their tongues were not idle, from rayling and [Page 180] reuiling him, with scornefull words.

Oh how wonderfully is my Lord derided, how vnworthily is hee scor­ned! Yea, some (so barbarous was their mindes, and so brutish was their manners) do spit in his face: Who euer did see such grosse in­humanitie? who doth not abhor such beastly inciuillitie? They all striue who should doe him most hurt, and contend one with ano­ther, to doe him most mischiefe, seeking by spightfull words, to vexe his minde, and by cruell blowes, to wound his bodie.

Oh my louing Iesus, how bitter are their speeches, direfullie brea­thed out against thee?

How terrible are their practises, so bloodilie inflicted vpon thee?

Why are not my vitall spirits damped with woe? why are not mine eyes drowned in a flood of teares? and why is not my soule ouer-whelmed with the waues of [Page 181] sorrow, in this my sadde Medita­tion of thine afflictions, and de­uout contemplation of thy hu­mane miseries?

Wherefore gush forth, oh yee teares, from the inward fountaine of my heart, and ouerflow mine eies with your plentifull shewers.

But art thou made of flint, Oh my hard heart, that thou doest not breake into pieces? Is thy sub­stance of marble, that thou doest not cleaue asunder, when I medi­tate vpon these cursed inuectiue reproches, and wicked deedes, done to my innocent Iesus, by the stony-hearted Iewes.

Alas for mee, a most wretched sinner, that my Lord should suffer such great and grieuous affliction for my sake, and yet, that I should still remaine sencelesse in my sins, and haue no remorse of consci­ence for my hainous offences?

Haue mercy vpon mee, most [Page 182] mercifull Lord, because I call all these things to minde, and haue them in my meditation: but for want of true loue, I am depriued of true deuotion, and my hard heart is without all sense of sor­rowfull contrition. Therefore wound my heart, my louing Ie­sus, that I may be grieued with thee, and suffer for thee, that thou maist vouchsafe to shew me mer­cie, & that I may with more bold­nesse approach vnto thy Maiestie. Thou wert humbled, and I dis­daine my brethren vvith pride: Thou wert pinched vvith hunger, and I surfeit with abundance: thou wert afflicted with torments, and I spend my dayes in wanton pleasure. Thou didst weepe, to thinke vp­on the vvofull destruction of Ieru­salem, but I am not touched with any tender affection of mercie, when I see thousands oppressed vvith miserie.

I can finde no place, my sweet Iesu, to hide my face from confu­sion. I can finde no remedie for my deadly maladie, but in the vertue of thy comfortable mercie.

Oh, cure my disease with this excellent medicine, and salue all my vvounds with this pretious Balme, that all mine affections may be so kindled vvith thy loue, that I may reioyce to suffer, and suf­fer vvith reioycing, for thy glorious name, vvho wert content to bee scorned and scourged, to be accoun­ted as an abiect amongst the vile and wicked, that I might be rai­sed out of the pit of endlesse mi­serie, to be exalted for euer vvith thee, in the Pallace of eternall glo­rie.

A Meditation how Peter denied his Maister three times in the house of Cayphas, and of his weeping for the same. MED. X.

NOw let vs cease a while to meditate on my Sauiour, and consider how Peter carried him­self in the afflictions of his Master.

He was loath to leaue him, be­cause he did loue him, and there­fore although at the first hee fled, yet hee returned againe with the [Page 185] other Disciple, who by friendship brought him into the Pallace of the high Priest: and as Peter stood there by the fire, a maide looked vpon him, and said to them that were by, This man also was with Iesus of Nazareth. But Peter, who not long before had made such great brags of his loue, was now so daunted with feare, that he flat­ly denied his seruice, saying: I know not the man. And a little after, an­other sayd vnto him, Art not thou also one of his Disciples?

So that now Peter was not con­tent simply to denie him, but hee beganne earnestly to forsweare him.

Now within a while after, ano­ther came and said: Verily, thou art one of them. And then Peter began to curse and sweare, saying: I know not the man whom thou speakest of, and immediately the Cocke crew. And the Lord who stood not far off in [Page 186] the hands of the wicked, looked back vpon Peter, not refusing faint-hearted Peter to be his seruant, al­though he had denied, and abiu­red him for his Maister.

Then Peter remembred the words which Iesus had spoken to him, and he went out & wept bitterly. Mat. 26.

Now let vs seriously meditate on the frailtie of Peter, that seeing so stout a Souldier so soone daun­ted with feare, we may take heed, not to presume too much vpon our owne weakenesse, lest we play the cowards, and start backe as he did, when wee are put to our tryall.

Consider (oh my soule) the fer­uency of his loue, and greatnesse of his feare, the willingnesse of his minde, and weakenesse of his might.

I dare not say but that Peter did loue his Lord, and was sorry for the distressed estate of his master, [Page 187] although his heart fainted, and his stomacke failed in the time of danger: hee thought hee should haue beene able to haue perfor­med in deedes, that which he had so boldly boasted in wordes: but alas, hee did not know his owne imbecilitie, his eyes were blinded that hee could not see his owne infirmitie, the spirit indeede was willing, but the flesh was weake.

He began to shew some courage when he drew his sword, and cut of Malchus his eare, but alas, it was soone abated, and he fled from his Maister, when hee saw him in the hands of his enemies, and surpri­sed by his cruell foes. And albeit hee was so bolde spirited then, that hee durst resist a multitude of men, yet hee was so timerous now, that being terrified with the voyce of a Mayde, hee did re­nounce his gratious LORD, [Page 188] and flatly denie his louing Mai­ster, so soone were his boasting words turned into cowardly deeds, & the professed constancie of his loue found most inconstant in the day of tryall.

So we may note, that Peter pre­sumed hee was able to haue done great exploits while hee was with Iesus, but we see the vigor of his courage was soone diminished, and the heate of his loue cooled when hee was separated from his Lord Iesus: so long as he did en­ioy peaceably his blessed societie, so long he dreaded no danger, he liued in securitie. In time of peace, he thought of no war: In time of calme weather, he feared no sud­daine storme: But when he ente­red into the house of the high Priest, where hee saw his poore Master spightfully derided, moc­ked, and cruelly scourged, then his courage was cooled, his haughtie [Page 189] words proued no deedes, and hee became a starke coward.

Learne thou also (oh my soule) by the example of Peter, to loue thy Lord Iesus, but so to loue him, that no affliction or calamitie may compell thee to leaue him. But say with the Apostle, Who shall separate me from the loue of Christ? shall tribulation or anguish? shall per­secution or hunger? I am readie not onely to be bound, but also to die in Hierusalem for the name of the Lord Iesus. Learne likewise by the ex­ample of Peter, not fondly to vaunt of thine owne courage, or to boast of thy strength: let the remembrance of his fall be as a bridle, to restraine thee from run­ning headlong into the like fault.

Say not in the prosperous time of thine aboundance (vvhen all things succeede happily accor­ding to thy wish, and nothing fal­leth out contrarie to thy desire) I [Page 190] shall neuer be moued, least afterward thou be constrained to change thy note, vveeping vvith bitter teares for thy folly, and lamenting for thy presumption, with sorrow­full sighes: saying, Thou didst turne away thy face from mee, and I was troubled.

Teach mee, oh Lord, to know mine owne weakenesse: open the eies of my vnderstanding, that I may see the frailtie of my flesh, and ficklenesse of my minde, when any cloud of persecution doth appeare ouer my head, or any dread of fu­ture affliction trouble my heart.

I often presume vvith Peter, that I could goe to prison vvith thee, abide any torment for thy sake, yea lose my life for thy loue, my louing Sauiour: but (alas) I see by the frailtie of thy beloued Disciple, that I should proue but a dastard, when I come to fight thy battell, and begin to seeke some [Page 191] couerture, to hide my head from danger.

For how can I boast of my va­lour, or bragge of my manhood, when as one of thy stoutest Soul­diers, who had beene so long trai­ned vp vnder thee, and had recei­ued so many encouragements by thee, began to faint, at the word of so weake an enemie, that hee did denie the seruice of so good a Ma­ster, onely for feare, before he felt the bitternesse of affliction: What is man that hee may boast of his strength, or be proud of his ver­tue, when the best is so vnable to performe a good action, that he is altogether vnable to conceiue a good motion?

Lighten thou (oh my grati­ous Lord) my darke and obscure vnderstanding, that I may not fondly runne into the snares of temptation, through a vaine con­fidence of my owne power, or [Page 192] through a fond presumption of my owne strength, seeing I am so weake that I cannot conceiue any good thought in my heart, nor do any good deed with my hands, vnlesse thy diuine grace doe go­uerne mine affections, and direct the course of my actions. But oh my most mercifull Sauiour, al­though the allurements of the flattering world should so intice me, the pleasures of the wanton flesh so ouercome mee, and the feare of persecution so terrifie me, that I should be ashamed of thy liuerie, and denie so gracious a Lord: yet vouchsafe oh my sweet Iesu, to turne thy fauourable eies towards mee, that my faith may not vtterly faile, though it begin to quaile, and that thou wilt ne­uer leaue mee vvhen I begin to shrinke from thee. Oh let me not presume of thy loue, nor di­spaire of thy mercy.

Let remembrance of thy words wound my heart, and awake my sleepie conscience, that my soule may be cast downe with true sor­row, and that I may vveepe, yea vveepe bitterly vvith sorrowfull Peter. Luk. 22.62. for my sinnes, that I may be made partaker of the benefit of thy comfortable mercie, and obtaine remission of my grieuous transgressions, by true Repentance as he did.

Thou hast left this example of the fall of thy louing Disciple, re­corded in thy holy word, not to animate vs to commit the sinne of presumption, but to comfort vs that wee runne not into the pit of wofull desperation, when wee are ouertaken with the like fault, and haue committed the like fol­ly: therefore teach me (oh Lord) so to presume of thy mercie, that I may alwaies stand in awe of thy Iustice.

I am not assured that thou wilt turne thine eies towards mee, as thou didst towards him, so that my heart may be smitten with sor­row, and mine eies streame forth bitter teares of true Repentance, and that thou wilt receiue me into thy blessed seruice againe, as thou didst him, after I haue denied thee to be my Lord and Master.

It was thy free mercie to afford vnto him such an vnspeakeable grace of thy extraordinarie loue: he could plead no worthinesse of words, nor merit of workes to de­serue thy fauour.

But (oh most gratious Lord) if my guiltie conscience doe at anie time tell mee that I haue or doe commit the same offence, yet vouchsafe, that I may resort to the euerlasting fountaine of thy plentifull mercie, that there my thirstie soule may bee refreshed with the sweet waters of comfort, [Page 195] so that it may neither be drowned in the Sea of excessiue sorrow, nor wounded with the Darts of cure­lesse dispaire.

Now consider thou, (oh my soule) the place where Peter was, and the conditions of the people who were vvith him, vvhen hee made such a fearefull defection, from his gracious Lord, and fai­led in his loue, towards his kinde and louing Master: He was in the Palace of the high Priest, who sate in counsell with the Scribes and Pha­rises, against the Lord and his an­nointed, amongst a wicked crewe of these cruell Ministers, vvhose mindes were incensed with furie, and hands armed with crueltie, to torment my innocent Sauiour.

Marke how soone he was infe­cted by their vvicked manners, how soone his soule was corrup­ted with their naughtie conditi­ons: for now he began to protest [Page 196] with swearing, and to affirme with cursing, that he knew not his lo­uing Maister, to whom not long before, hee had made a solemne vow, not onely to forgoe his li­bertie, for his cause, but also to loose his life for his sake. Luke. 22.33.

Oh fearefull downfall, of so great an Apostle! for if his louing Master, and mercifull Sauiour, had not beene more constant towards him in his loue, and tenderly compassionate towards him by his mercie, hee had neuer recoue­red himselfe, but had perished for euer.

No man can touch Pitch, but hee shall be defiled: no man can tread vp­on thornes with barefeete, but he shall be pricked, nor any man holde his hands amongst fierie coales, but they will be burned: Euen so, no man can remaine amongst lewd per­sons, and conuerse in the com­panie [Page 197] of the wicked, but his minde shall be stained with the spots of impietie, his conscience wounded with the thornes of sinne, and his soule made loathsome vvith the botches, and blaines of iniquitie.

But so soone as my beloued Ie­sus had turned his eies towards Peter, and vvith his lookes had awakened his drowsie memorie, then perplexed Peter remembred the words of his Master, so that his heart being surcharged vvith sorrow, and his eyes flowing with teares, he left that wicked compa­nie, and went out and wept: yea he wept bitterly. Luk. 22.62. Teach me oh Lord, to leaue the dangerous societie of the wicked: neither let mee desire, or delight to dwell in the Tents of the vngodly: Let me also learne, by the example of thy sorrowfull Disciple, to goe into some secret place, and with-draw my selfe from the people, when I call my [Page 198] selfe to reckoning for my trans­gressions, (but alas, I am negligent in casting vp this account) and be­gin to sorrow for my sinnes, and to shed teares for my grieuous of­fences, that all impediments may be remoued from mine eies, and as much as is possible, all vaine and vvicked cogitations out of my heart, vvhen I come before thy presence (oh Lord) to prostrate my selfe before thee, in submissiue humilitie, desiring thee to passe ouer mine offences, and to for­giue me my sinnes, through thy infinite mercie.

Then (oh my good Lord) so deepely vvound my conscience vvith horrour of my detestable sinnes, that I may offer vp a bro­ken and contrite heart vnto thee, because thou art alwaies vvell pleased vvith such a Sacrifice, and it sendeth vp a sweet sauour into thy nosethrils.

Now consider (oh my soule) that as the trespasse of Peters deni­all vvas great, so his sorrow vvas grieuous: as the remembrance of his fall vvas sowre, so the streames of his teares vvere bitter: yet they vvere not so bitter vnto him for feare of punishment, as they vvere bitter, because hee had denied so sweet and so louing a Master: the remembrance of his horrible in­gratitude vvas more bitter vnto him then gall, and more vnplea­sant then wormewood: his teares vvere bitter vnto him, in respect of his presumption, who promi­sed so much, and performed so little: and they vvere bitter vnto him, vvhen he thought vpon the sweet loue of his Master, and the great benefits hee had receiued of him.

And yet their bitternesse vvas mixed vvith sweetnesse, because they were signes of his hartie sor­row, [Page 200] and tokens of his true repen­tance, for where true repentance go­eth before, remission of sinnes alwaies followeth after. Eze. 33.19.

Thou seest also, that the lookes of the Lord, did draw out teares from Peters eies; Neither is it any wonder, for the eies of the Lord were as a flame of fire, and the eies of Peter as Ice, vvhich began to melt into teares, by the influence of their heat, as true tokens of his sorrowfull, relenting, and peni­tent heart.

Oh happie are thine eies, my blessed Sauiour, vvhich doe so warme the coldnesse of our harts, that they may bee able to haue some sense of thy loue, and doe so illuminate our dimme vnder­standing, that we may see our er­rours, and seeing, may sigh and weepe for our transgressions. Oh how soone doe they dissolue the Ice, and melt the frost of our hard [Page 201] harts, and turne it into the waters of bitter lamentation, and sorrow­full deuotion!

Oh my most bountifull Iesu! oh my most mercifull Lord, haue mercy vpon mee, pitty my vvo­full case, shut not the dore of thy compassion against mee; oh let me taste of the sweetnesse of thy wonted clemency, vvhich haue so often, so stubbornely renoun­ced thee, through the peeuishnes of my will, so often denyed thee by my wicked words, and most often forsworne thee by my wret­ched deeds.

Haue mercy vpon me, oh my most sweet Iesus, let the beames of thine eyes make their reflecti­on towards mee, that mine eyes may melt into teares, as the rocke did gush forth water, when Moses smote it with his rod, Exod. 17.5. that I may weep for my sins, and bewaile my transgressions, which [Page 202] haue so often refused thy seruice, because I vvas loath to leaue the vanities of the wicked world, or to forsake the pleasures of the wan­ton flesh.

Heale mee (oh Lord) for I am full of sores, and my bones doe rot away with corruption. Stay me vp (oh Lord) when my feete begin to slide, and lift me vp when I am downe: vnlesse thou sup­port mee I cannot but slide, and vnlesse thou doe lift me vp, I can­not rise againe when I doe fall: I can doe nothing vvithout thee, thou onely doest heale those that are bruised, and thou alone doest raise them vp that are fallen.

Therefore looke towards mee, and haue mercie vpon mee, for I am desolate and poore.

Neither turne away thy face from me, but let thine eyes be fix­ed vpon me. If thou wilt vouch­safe (oh my most kind and louing [Page 203] Lord) to shew me this mercy, and to regard the wofull estate of mee a most wretched creature, then oh Lord, I shall call my transgres­sions to remembrance, & mourne for my grieuous offences that I haue committed against thee.

Raise mee vp (oh Lord) out of my dead sleepe of carelesse securi­tie, as thou didst Lazarus out of his graue: Ioh. 11.43, 44. open the eyes of my vnderstanding, that I may see to tread in the pathes of thy commandements.

Be thou as a strong Pillar, to support and stay me in my weake­nesse, for I am so feeble that I can­not stand without thy helpe, and euery moment I shall bee ouer­whelmed, vnlesse thy strong hand doe support me.

Let thy eyes (oh my louing IESVS) be euermore turned to­wards mee, that I may euery day returne vnto thee, by true and [Page 204] harty repentance, sorrowing for my sinnes that are past, and ende­uouring by thy grace to take bet­ter heed to my wayes in time to come, so that I may do that which is agreeable to thy sacred law, and acceptable to thy holy will.

Oh my GOD, let thy seruant Peter his falling, put me in conti­nuall minde to take heed to mine owne standing, and his Repen­tance, arme me with strong con­fidence in thy mercie, against de­speration. AMEN.

A Meditation, how Iesus was sent vnto Pilate. MED. XI.

NOw let vs returne from wee­ping Peter, to meditate vpon my louing Iesus, who remained all night in the house of Cayphas, where hee was scorned with oppro­brious words, and buffeted and bea­ten with cruell blowes, no man spake in his cause, no man plea­ded his case, hee sustained their iniuries with meekenesse, hee did [Page 206] beare their intollerable reproches with mildnesse.

Now in the morning, my innocent Iesus was brought before the high Priest and others, who sat in counsell, to examine him as a pernicious tray­tor, not worthie to liue, but worthie of a most cruell death.

And after they had reuiled him with proud words, and haled him too and fro with cruell hands, they cried out in their madnes, and roared out in their furie, he is worthie of death, let him be led bound vnto Pilate, that hee may pronounce iudgment against him, to die a most shamefull & cruell death.

Oh how was my sweet Sauiour molested for my sake! how was his soule afflicted for my sinnes! I was the cause that thou vvert conuented before the counsell of the high Priest, and my sinnes did send thee to Pilate.

Oh let mee weepe in the mor­ning when I awake out of sleepe, [Page 207] and make my bed to swimme with teares, when I lie downe to rest, because I haue beene delighted with that, as my chiefest felicitie, which caused thee to abide the bitternesse of all their crueltie, and vvill be the cause of mine owne endlesse miserie, vnlesse my wounds be healed, and my sores salued with the pretious balme of thy sauing mercie.

Teach me, oh Lord, to suffer a­ny affliction for thy sake, with ala­critie, and to sustaine the malice of persecution with cheerefull humi­lity, which shalbe by Sathan raised against me, or by his instruments inflicted vpon me for thy cause.

Let the patterne of thy perfect humilitie, be alwayes placed be­fore mine eyes, let the memorie of thy patience, neuer depart out of my minde. Oh ye vvicked Iewes! Oh ye false accusers! oh ye lying caluminators! oh ye per­iured [Page 208] wretches! How maliciously, how vniustly, how spitefully, how impudently doe yee accuse my Lord? ye raile vpon him as if hee were a most damnable traytor, ye reuile and curse him, as if hee had complotted some horrible trea­son, or inuented some notable mischiefe, when as his hands were neuer stained with any euill acti­on, nor his heart tainted with any wicked cogitation, his words were nothing but verity and truth, and there was no guile to be found in his mouth: who alone is good, the author of goodnesse, and the fountaine of euerlasting happines. Tell me ye deceitfull and spitefull accusers, what euill hath he done? what vvicked deed hath he com­mitted? Enquire of them vvhom hee deliuered from the vncleane spirits vvherewith they were mise­rably tormented? aske the blinde vvhom hee had made to see? de­mand [Page 209] of the deafe whom he made to heare? aske the Leapers whom he clensed, and the dead persons whom hee reuiued? let them an­swere your false accusations, and ouerthrow the forged testimonies of your criminall obiections? Are ye so vvilfull that ye will not ac­knowledge his mercy? are ye so blinde that ye cannot see his mira­cles? If an vngodly man can per­forme such mercifull deedes, then you may iustly accuse him as a vvicked doer, and condemne him as a dangerous malefactor. Thou seest my soule, vvhat cause thou hast to vvater thy cheekes vvith continuall teares, and to ouer­whelme thy hart in deepe streams of vvofull sorrow, vvhen thou dost thinke vpon the afflictions of thy blessed Sauiour, and meditate on the cursed torments executed by the cruell Iewes against thy in­nocent Iesus.

Was there euer any Traitor so execrable to men for his bloodie deeds? or any vile wretch so odi­ous for his vitious life, vvhich sustained so many opprobrious vvords, scornfull derisions, bitter taunts, and grieuous torments, as the furious Iewes inflicted vpon my mercifull Iesus?

Oh my blessed Sauiour and louing Redeemer, what did moue thee to sustaine such a heauie bur­then of afflictions? what was the cause that thou didst submit thy selfe to so many miseries? I know my most gratious Lord, it did flow from the fountaine of thy vnmea­surable loue, in tendring the wo­full estate of me a most wretched sinner: and because thou vvert moued with the bowels of com­passion towards mee, a most for­lorne and miserable creature.

Thy exceeding loue vvas the cause of thy admirable humilitie: [Page 211] and thy vnspeakeable mercie, the soueraigne medicine to cure my miserie. Therefore grant me, my humble and lowly Iesus, vvhich am thy poore and most vnwor­thy seruant, that I may suffer any contempt vvith humilitie for thy cause, & endure any vile reproach vvith alacritie for thy sake, estee­ming it my chiefest honour to be scorned for thy loue, and ac­counting my selfe most happie, vvhen I suffer any persecution for thy holy name.

Possesse my heart vvith true humilitie, that my thoughts may not thirst after vaine glorie, nor mine affections hunt after world­ly honour. For I know (oh Lord) that thou doest resist the proud, and that thou giuest grace to the humble: Iames. 4.6. Pro. 15.25. and I know (oh Lord) that hee vvhich desireth to ascend to the place of euerlasting glorie, must [Page 212] ascend vnto it by the steps of hu­mility; Therefore thou (vvhich art onely able) teach mee that I may be truly humbled, so that my minde may not swell vvith pride in time of my prosperitie, nor any ambitious thoughts find any har­bour in my heart in the time of my peaceable tranquility, that I may sing vvith the sweet singer Dauid, It is good for mee that thou hast humbled me. And that I may more easily learne to leuell my thoughts by the rule of humility, inflame my heart vvith thy loue, for if my heart be incensed and kindled with thy loue, my desires will be ready to performe thy wil, and I shall be chearefull to walke in thy vvayes, vvhich doest teach mee to be lowly in minde, and humble in heart.

A Meditation how Pilate caused Iesus to be scourged, and hovv after­vvard he pronounced sentence of death against him. MED. XII.

VVHen Pilate had strictly examined my innocent Iesus, and could finde no cause why the cruell Iewes should so grieuously accuse him, but knew that they had deliuered him for enuie, and did spite him for ma­lice: he was vvilling to haue set Ie­sus at liberty, but the furious Iewes [Page 214] did so greedily thirst after his in­nocent blood, and so eagerly desi­red to haue him put to a shame­full death, that they cried out in a rage, and exclaimed in their fury: Set Barrabas at libertie, and cruci­fie Iesus.

But when Pilate perceiued that nothing could calme the storme of their rage, and represse the vio­lence of their madnesse, but effusi­on of his innocent blood, then he commanded that my harmelesse Iesus should be cruelly scourged, thinking that the streames of bloud running downe from his sacred body would haue allaide the heat of their malice, & quen­ched the flame of their fury. But alas, it was his life that they onely sought: nothing but his innocent death could satisfie their bloody mindes: yea, nothing but cruell death could tame their bruitish rage, Matth. 26.

But stay here my soule, that thou mayest reuiew againe thy in­nocent Iesus, accused vniustly, re­uiled malitiously, spitefully scor­ned, and cruelly scourged by the commaundement of Pilate: they crowned his head scornefully with pricking Thornes, and did teare his tender flesh with their cruell whips. Oh my most louing Lord! oh my most mercifull Iesus! mollifie my hard hart that it may be wholy dissolued into streames of sorrow, with the memory of thy bitter scourging, and that my soule may be wounded so that it may send forth deepe groanes at the meditation of thine afflicti­ons. Grant me oh my most mer­cifull LORD, that my thoughts and affections may be so seriously affected vvith the remembrance of thy tedious Passion, that my senses may be made partakers of thy grieuous paines: for I [Page 216] my selfe, most louing Lord, am nothing able to performe that in­deed, which I doe desire, and con­ceiue in my minde.

I doe often times purpose with my selfe to meditate on thy Passi­on, and to thinke seriously vpon thine affliction, and to ruminate in my secret thoughts, what igno­minious crueltie was acted against thee, vvhen thou didst finish the worke of my redemption: But (alas) my senses are replenished with such stupiditie and dulnesse, that I am not touched vvith any sensible compassion, because my vnderstanding is distempered with vaine and fond cogitations, and my heart is become so hard that it is vnapt to conceiue any tender affection, while I meditate vpon the grieuous paines, and muse on the great afflictions which thou didst sustaine, and patiently en­dure to satisfie the vvrath of thy [Page 217] Father, due vnto me for my sinnes. I cannot taste the sweetnesse, I cannot relish the goodnesse of thy passion, because the matter is tedious to my corrupted thoghts, and vnpleasant to my carnall de­sires. For so vnconstant and in­stable is my heart, so mutable and variable are the motions of my minde, that they are both soone distracted, alienated and diuorced from that heauenly meditation by swarms of idle fantasies, & foo­lish cogitations. But from whence, oh Lord, doe these noysome vveeds grow vp in my hart? how is it that they finde such a fertile soile in my minde? truly, because my heart is not planted vvith thy loue, nor my mind furnished with thy graces. For I can neuer haue my fill of those things vvherein I take too much delight: my minde cannot be drawne from their so­cietie, because they haue wonne [Page 18] my fauor, & haue gotten my loue. Wherefore, oh my most mercifull Iesus, because I loue thee so little, and dote vpon worldly vanities so much, my hart slideth away from thee, & mine affections are diuer­ted from thee; and I know oh Lord, how prone & ready I am to consent to euery wicked motion, and how impotent and feeble I am, to go about any good action.

Therfore I pray thee, not to cor­rect me in thy wrath, nor to pro­ceed against mee with seuerity of thy Iustice, but to haue pitty on me a most miserable sinner, and to confirme my vnconstant hart with a stedfast delight in thy loue, & to establish my wandring minde, ac­cording to the multitude of thy mercies: so that no pleasure, be it neuer so sweet, may be able to al­lure me to leaue thy blessed loue: nor any tribulation, be it neuer so bitter, constraine me to forsake thy [Page 219] happy seruice: driue all idle cares out of my minde, & purge all cor­rupt thoughts out of my hart, and draw me wholy vnto thee, that I may remember with a deuout compassion, & call to minde with a serious meditation, how many, what great & grieuous torments, what scornefull derisions thou didst suffer in thy most pretious body, by the commaundement of Pontius Pilate, who contrary to the equitie of thy cause, and testimony of his owne conscience, Ioh. 19.4. commaunded thee to be scourged without all pitty, when as he him­selfe with his owne words had iu­stified thy innocency.

Oh vvhat a flood of teares should streame from mine eyes, what groanes and sorrowfull sighes should arise from the depth of my heart? how should all my sen­ses be ouer-whelmed with a sea of sorrow, when I meditate on the [Page 220] flinty hearts, and cruell hands of those tormentors, who scourged my louing Redeemer?

My heart cannot conceiue the outrage of their tyranny: my tongue is too weake to expresse their bar­barous inhumanitie: Who vvere as eager to lay violent hands vpon my poore Iesus, as rauenous Wolues are greedy to deuoure a tender Lambe, or hungry Lyons to ceaze vpon their prey.

They make haste to vnbinde his armes, and to vntie his hands, but it was not done to release him of his cruell bands, or to afford him any little ease: but that they might strip him of his garments, to scourge his naked body with their tormenting whips, and to make his veines spout out bloud with their cruell stripes.

Ah ruthfull spectacle to pittifull eyes, and able to haue made a deepe impression of tender com­passion [Page 221] in their hearts; if they had not beene more heard then Mar­ble! What sauage thoughts raigned in their murdering mindes? What monstrous indignitie was done vnto my louing Redeemer, to be strip­ped of his garments, and to stand naked before such vile and base vassals, who cloathed the Heauens with exceeding glory, and adorned the earth with admirable beauty?

Now, when they had stripped him of his cloathes, they bound him to a pillar, to endure their cruell stripes, hauing banished pitty from their hearts, and imbra­ced cruelty with their hands: som­time they lash him on the backe, sometime they scourge him on the brest: Now they let their smarting whips flie on his shoulders, anon they strike him on his armes: they suffer no part of his body to bee free from blowes, and they grieue his righteous soule with bitter [Page 222] words, whilest yet they are exe­cuting their cruell deeds.

But what Tygers heart harbou­red in their brest (oh my innocent Sauiour) which robbed them of grace, and they disrobed thee of thy cloathes? What hellish fury armed their hands which bound thee to a pillar, and scourged thy blessed body? how exceeding ex­ecrable is their sauage crueltie? How rare and admirable is thy si­lent patience? It was I, it was I, oh my most sweet Iesu, which de­serued to bee scourged with the whips of euerlasting torments.

And thou my most mercifull Sauiour, looking vpon my mise­rable, wofull and distressed estate, with thine eye of pitty, wert wil­ling to be scourged for me a most wretched sinner, and being inno­cent, to suffer for mine offences, that the streames of thy pretious bloud, might wash away the filthy [Page 223] staines of my hainous sins: Alas, how is the wonderfull glory, oh my most sweet Lord, of thy super-excellent beauty decayed? how is the gracefull decency of thy amia­ble feature diminished? And how much is the delightfull comelinesse of thy most sacred body disgra­ced? Oh let mine eyes send forth a sea of teares, and let my perplexed heart breake into pieces with ex­ceeding sorrow, to see my beloued Sauiour stained with his owne blood, and leopard-like bespotted with deformitie, who did farre ex­cell all the sonnes of men with his glorious beauty.

Now thou seest oh my soule, how the snow-white skin of the bodie of thy Sauiour, is changed into a bloody tincture: Thou maist see, and sigh when thou seest how his tender flesh is made black and blew with the cruel blowes which cruell tormentors inflicted vpon [Page 224] him, whose stony hearts had no sense of his grieuous paines, when they saw with their eyes (and yet alas they would not pitty his wo­full case) how the bloud ran out of his veines, as water floweth out of a fountaine.

Mourne and lament, oh my soule, send forth deepe groanes and sorrowfull sighes at so pittifull a sight. For now thou canst not say, My beloued is white and ruddy, Cant. 1.14. as sometime thou mightest: But rather say, my beloued is blacke and blew, his pretious bloud gu­shing out of his veines, and his tender flesh mangled with grie­uous wounds.

Who is so cruelly minded, and so stony-harted, which cannot be mo­ued to shed plentifull teares, when he vieweth my sweet Sauior Iesus so sauagely abused without any pitty, and so spitefully taunted, and maliciously tormented without any mercy?

Now when those cursed Tor­mentors had almost tired their hands, but yet not tamed the cru­eltie of their hearts, they cloathe him with a vesture of purple co­lour, set a crowne of sharpe thorns on his head, and put a Reed for a Scepter into his hands, calling him King in derision vvith their blasphemous mouthes, whom they accounted more base then the meanest abiect in al the world, Mat. 27.2. Is it possible for thee, my sorrowfull soule, to keepe backe the tide of thy streaming teares, when thou dost meditate in thy perplexed minde, and as it were, view within thy secret thoghts how cruelly thy harmelesse Saui­our was tortured by those bloody tormentors: how spitefully he was tanted, and shamefully mocked by those blasphemous wretches?

There was no man, oh my sweet Iesu, that did afford thee so much [Page 226] as a signe of pitty in thy greatest paines: thou mightest not haue a Chirurgion to stanch thy blee­ding wounds, no man sought to ease thy smart, nor to bathe thy scourged body: no man offered thee a cup of water to refresh thy fainting spirits:

Oh let shewers of teares trickle downe my cheekes, and let a sea of sorrow ouer-flow my heart, when I enter into a serious medi­tation of the grieuous paines, de­risions, and afflictions, which my innocent redeemer patiently en­dured. Oh then let mine eyes send forth a flood of teares, because my mercifull & louing Iesus suffered all those intollerable extremities for mee, a most wretched sinner, that he might pay the price of my redemption, and deliuer my soule from euerlasting captiuitie!

Oh how should I, my bounti­full Iesu, sound the bottomlesse [Page 227] profunditie of thy vnspeakeable mercy?

And how can I search the end­les depth of mine owne wretched miserie?

Touch my heart oh Lord, by the vertue of thy holy spirit, and teach me by the sacred documents of thine vnsearchable wisdome, so that the affections of my heart may be faithfully affianced, and for euer affixed vnto thy immea­surable loue, and my minde euer­more imployed in the diuine me­ditation of thy holy law.

Instruct mee to lay vp in the store-house of my perpetuall me­morie, how many, how great and grieuous paines thou hast endu­red for me. What should I render vnto thee in requitall of thine im­measurable loue? how should I be able to demeane my selfe thanke­fully vnto thee, when of my selfe I am so vile a creature, that I cannot [Page 228] thinke dutifully of thee? Where­fore open mine eyes (oh my sweet Iesu) that I may see the inestima­ble riches of thy bountie.

Infuse thy working grace into my vnderstanding, that I may know & acknowledge the great­nes of thy loue, and goodnesse of thy gratious benefits. Graunt me such a portion of thy grace, that in the highest degree of my prosperitie, I may meditate on thy pouerty, so that my minde may be brideled from ambitious thoughts, and my actions neuer transgresse the bounds of moderate humility.

And when I decke my body with costly attire, let me thinke of thy nakednes, that it may asswage my swelling pride, and induce me to abate somewhat of my superflui­tie, to cloathe and relieue my poore brethren in their naked ne­cessitie.

And when my Table is furni­shed [Page 229] with delicate meates, and my cuppe filled with delicious wine, then oh my louing Sauiour, let me remember thy hunger. Oh let me not forget thy thirst, that I may be sober in my diet, and temperate in my drinke, and remember to refresh poore hungry Lazarus, when he lieth crying and crauing at my gate.

When I enioy my libertie, let me thinke of thine imprisonment, that I may not let mine affections runne ryot, but tame their wilde motions before they breake forth into desperate actions. Let not worldly pleasure haue such so­ueraigne dominion ouer my peaceable thoughts, but that I may alwayes haue some taste of the paines which thou didst suffer for my sinnes with patience, and sustaine for my transgressions with silence.

Lastly, let me neuer dispaire of [Page 230] thy potent mercy, though by my owne merit I finde I haue deser­ued nothing else but hell and dam­nation. Now that this blessed worke of thine excellent good­nesse (oh my gratious Lord) may be affected in mee, make a deepe impression of thy loue in my bowels, and ingraue the true cha­racter of thy kindnesse on my heart, so that nothing may please my taste, nothing breed my de­light, nothing affect my desires, but onely thou my King & God, my Sauiour and my Redeemer. Kindle the fire of thy loue within my bones, that my ardent zeale may neuer be quenched towards my beloued Lord Iesus, who did willingly abide the curse, and die on the crosse to pay my debt, and to deliuer my soule out of the prison of eternall death.

But stay not here my soule, turne thine eyes toward thine af­flicted [Page 231] Iesus, view him harmlesse and innocent, and see in what scornefull habit iniurious Pilate doth present him to the bloudy-minded Iewes: his body is arraied in a roabe of purple: his cheekes bedewed with blood, running out of the veines of his head, wounded with a Crowne of sharpe thornes: A ruthfull spectacle, which might haue made their stony-hearts haue melted with compassionate pitty.

But (alas) vvhat can mollifie those harts which are full fraugh­ted with crueltie? thinke oh my soule, thou doest heare Pilate that vniust and wrongfull iudge, vtte­ring these or the like words vnto the muttering Iewes.

Behold, I bring him forth vn­to you, that yee may know I can finde no cause to pronounce iudgement against him, but be­cause yee pretend some matter: [Page 232] Behold how I haue punished the man, to calme the tumults of your enraged mindes.

Looke vpon him vvith your eyes, see how miserable, vvofull, base, and contemptible he appea­reth in your sight! You need not stand in feare that he will seeke to rule ouer you as a king: you may see his power is too weake to com­passe a kingdome: you may see how bitterly hee hath bene scour­ged, scoffed at by the people, scor­ned of the multitude, rudely ha­led, and roughly handled by the Souldiers: you need not dread him as a man dangerous to the State: though he had a mind, yet he hath no might to raise vp any tempest of sedition: Wherefore, ye may now set him at libertie after hee hath beene scourged, with­out any feare of perill, and let him goe without any dread of danger.

But consider heere my soule, that although vniust Pilate, con­trarie to equitie of law, testimony of his owne conscience, and sen­tence of his owne mouth, had ex­treamely punished my louing Sa­uiour, and had authorised his ba­sest officers to vse him at their pleasure, and to abuse him in their iesting humour: And although their taunts were bitter without meane, their derisions intollerable without any sparke of modesty, and their torments excessiue with­out measure, yet none of them, nor all of them could once delay the fury of the hasty executio­ner, nor allay the heat and fiery hatred of the enuious cruell Iewes, kindled in their burning breast without cause against my innocent Iesus: but although they saw him so deformed, so ignomi­niously disgraced, and grieuously afflicted, yet it could not satiate, [Page 234] no it could not so much as slake the thirst of their bloudy mindes: they were so farre transported be­yond the limits of reason in their chollericke moode, and fretting without measure, to see his life prolonged the space of a mo­ment, that they exclaimed in their madnesse, Crucifie him, crucifie him: his very breath is odious vnto vs, If thou let him goe, thou art not Cae­sars friend, Ioh. 19.12. Oh ye per­uerse and peeuish nation! Oh yee wicked and viperous generation! was it not enough to haue stop­ped your clamorous mouthes, to haue mollified your flinty hearts, and to haue stayed your bloudy hands, when yee sawe my meeke and kinde Sauiour so cruelly scourged, currishly scorned, and pittifully tormented, as though he had bene a man dangerous to your state, and a pernitious foe to your countrie?

But although all those insup­portable iniuries, and opprobri­ous indignities were contrarie to all pietie, and without any pitty inflicted vpon him, when as by the testimonie of Pilate, a sterne & seuere Iudge, he was pronoun­ced to bee innocent and cleare from all offences, Ioh. 19.6. yet ye supposed that al those torments were too little, and nothing too much, vvhich was vniustly done to that innocent Lambe, who ope­ned not his mouth once to mur­mure or mutter against his cruell persecutors.

Here hast thou cause (oh my soule) to admire the vnspeakeable mildnesse of my Iesus, and to stand amazed at the implacable crueltie of the Iewes. When Pilate percei­ued that his words could not pre­uaile to slake the flame of their enuious mindes, but rather added more fuell to their boyling furie, [Page 236] and that delay of his death did so mad, & vexe their confused thoghts, that they would not be quieted before they had shed his innocent blood: then he willing to satisfie their franticke humor, and to shew himselfe a friend vnto Caesar, pre­sumed against the contradiction and care of his owne conscience, to pronounce sentence of death, yea of a most vile and shame­full death against the innocent Lambe, my louing Lord Iesus.

Neuerthelesse he would make a fayre shew to the world, that he did acquit him in his heart, al­though hee condemned him vvith his mouth: And taking water, hee washed his hands before the people, say­ing: I am innocent from the blood of this iust man, looke ye vnto it: Mat 27.24. Then all the people cryed out aloud with open mouthes and bloody mindes, His blood be vpon vs and our children, Mat. 27.25.

And indeede at last they found the wofull effect of their bloudie vvish, they felt the smart of their bloudie desire, though then in the heat of their furie they dreaded no danger, nor dreamed on the day of their sorrow, wherein their Ci­tie was filled with slaughtered bo­dies, and the channels of their streets streamed with bloud. Al­though my tender hearted Saui­our had fore-told them of their wofull desolation, and vvith wee­ping teares fore-warned them of their dolefull destruction: but they stopped their eares and would not heare his voice, flattering them­selues in their deceitfull securitie, and laughed at his vvords in the faire dayes of their prosperity.

But here cease a while my sor­rowfull soule, to meditate on the malicious madnesse of the bloud-thirstie Iewes, vvhose clamorous voices could not be pacified be­fore [Page 238] the corrupted Iudge (cursed Pilate) had condemned my deare and innocent Iesus: and consider the hainous and hatefull conditi­on of Pilates sinne, and view the wofull horrour of his vvretched soule, who for feare of Caesar, and fauour of the people, did contrary to the knowledge of his consci­ence, and custome of law, pro­nounce sentence of death against my poore Iesus, who neuer meant hurt, nor thought any euill.

Tell me (thou vvicked Iudge) how couldest thou pretend any shadow to couer thy sinne? where couldst thou think to find a place of refuge for thy guilty soule?

Didst thou more dread the dis­pleasure of the people, then the horrour of a guiltie conscience? diddest thou stand in more awe of mortall men, then of the Eternall God? didst thou more regard to protest thy selfe a friend vnto [Page 239] Caesar, (vvho although he vvere a great King, was but a feeble crea­ture) than thou hadst care to dis­charge thine office to God, thine omnipotent Creator?

Tell me, did not thy heart ake, and all thy body tremble, so soone as wrongfull iudgement had passed out of thy lippes against my in­nocent Sauiour? Wert thou not tormented vvith the sting of thy vvounded conscience? Or vvert thou depriued of all thy senses, so soone as thou haddest vttered that vvrongfull sentence? Thou didst know that the Iewes had deliuered him of enuie: Matth. 27.28. and wouldst thou be an in­strument to satisfie their wicked malice? Thou wert ordained a Iudge, to execute Iustice, and to giue righteous iudgement, where­fore how horrible was thy sinne? how wofull was the state of thy guilty soule, when thou hadst con­demned [Page 240] my innocent Iesus.

Bitter and sweet vvater doth not flowe out of the selfe-same fountaine: yet thou (vvith the selfe-same mouth) didst iustifie my Sauiour, as an innocent per­son, and by and by (vvith the selfe-same mouth) condemne him, as an hainous malefactor?

How odious should the crying voices of murthering Iewes haue beene to thy eares? how shouldst thou haue hated their bloudie hearts, detested their vnlawfull re­quests, and loathed their malici­ous desires, vvhen they cried out vnto thee in their furie, & exclai­med in their madnes: Let Barrabas goe free, let Barrabas goe free: Cruci­fie, crucifie Iesus? Matth. 27.21.

Thou knewst vvell enough, that vvicked Barrabas had made an insurrection, disturbed the peace, and committed murther, and that thou couldst finde no [Page 241] fault, nor ferret out any offence in the life of my blessed Sauiour, but that the spitefull Iewes had accused him for enuie, and sought his death, to satisfie their malice, for indeede his vvhole life vvas a Mirrour of excellent vertues, his hands were cleane from euill acti­ons, his heart vvas pure from sin­full cogitations: Say thine eyes were so blinded that thou could'st not see the bright beames of his Di­uinitie; yet thou didst see, and thy mouth did testifie, that thou didst see the apparant Vertues of his in­nocent humanitie.

What did mooue thee to pro­nounce false iudgement, to shed his innocent bloud? Wert thou so fond to purchase fauour of the high Priests? Didst thou so dote after the loue of the people, whose mindes are more mutable then the winde, altering their affections euery moment, that contrarie to [Page 242] the sense of Law, testification of thy conscience, and approbation of thy owne words, thou wert se­duced to condemne such an inno­cent person?

Thy vvife did admonish thee that thou shouldest haue nothing to doe vvith that Righteous man, who suffered many things because of him in her sleepe, and there­fore fore-warned thee by her feare­full dreame. Matth. 27.19.

But neither the Caueat of thy wife, nor chastisement of thy own conscience, could stay thy false iudgement, but at last the enuious Iewes had what they would at thy hands, and thou didst giue them thy consent, to execute the ex­tream malice of their wicked harts.

What hadst thou gotten, if thou hadst gained the vvhole vvorld, vvith lose of thy soule? Wofull is the purchase which is bought at so deare a rate.

Before thou vvouldst vouch­safe to giue Iudgement against my harmlesse Redeemer, thou diddest make a solemne protestation be­fore the multitude, that thou wouldst not be guiltie with them in the shedding of his innocent bloud, thinking by vvashing thy hands with a little vvater, to take away the deepe staines of thy con­science. Oh how may all the world wonder at thy madnesse? How may all posterities condemne thee of folly? Well might a little vvater cleare the spots of thy hands, but all the vvater in the Ocean could not vvash away the blots of thy soule: Such prety slights may passe with­out contradiction amongst men, but alas, they cannot blinde the all-piercing eyes of the Eternall Iudge, vvho knoweth the secrets of euery mans heart, searcheth the reines, and vnderstandeth all our thoughts: It vvas horrible [Page 244] crueltie, yea, it vvas a cursed deed, voyd of all common humanitie, to command my Lord Iesus to be stripped out of his cloathes, and to haue his naked body wounded with stripes, vvhen thou sawest he could not be conuicted of any vvicked acte, nor iustly reproued for any euill word: and to license thy lewd Officers to gibe at him, at their wils, and to ieast at him like a foole at their pleasure, and by aggrauating his miseries to make themselues merrie: yet so popular vvas thy minde, and thine affecti­ons so glewed to the humor of the people, that vvhen thou sawest that those streames of his precious bloud, could not extinguish the flame of their furie, thou didst doome him to a most scandalous and ignominious death, vvho vvas honourable aboue all the sonnes of men for his righteous life, and declared to be faultlesse, by thy [Page 245] voluntarie confession, after thy strict examination.

Oh happy are the eyes of those which sit on the seat of iudgement, which can see the deformity of thy sinne, that their hearts may be re­plenished with integrity, and their hands vvith innocencie, not stai­ned vvith the spottes of Innocent bloud.

Curbe thou oh Lord the furi­ous passions of my minde, and quench the flame of bloudie wrath, vvhen it beginneth to be kindeled in my breast, that my heart may not imagine to slay the innocent, nor my hands be defiled with their bloud: Keepe me that I walke not in the counsell of the vvicked, vvhen they lay snares, and digge pits for the destruction of any of thy deare children. I know oh Lord, that I am readie euery mo­ment to vvander astray, vnlesse thou direct my feete by thy holy [Page 246] Spirit, and guide me in thy path, by the light of thy word.

I confesse my heart is tainted with originall vices, and my hands are stained vvith actuall offences: all my parts are defiled, yea my whole body is nothing else but a vessell full of corrupted liquor.

I am prone to commit all euil­nesse with greedinesse; But alas, I finde in my selfe not so much as a motion to doe any goodnesse.

I am forward to persecute thee, with the cruell Iewes, and to giue my consent to shed thy innocent bloud, vvith cursed Pilate: yea, I daily crucifie thee by my sinnes, and pierce thy blessed side, vvith mine iniquitie: I caused thee to be vniustly accused, and vvrongfully condemned: Haue not my cur­sed vvords, and bloudie oathes beene like sharpe speares to wound thy heart, and my cruell deedes, like nailes, to fasten thee to the [Page 247] Crosse? Wherefore wound thou my heart, that I may not lye still snorting in the bed of carelesse secu­ritie, and continue senselesse in the lethargie of sinne.

Purge the drosse of my vitious heart, vvith the fire of thy holy spirit, and purifie my corrupted cogitatious, by the bright beames of thy grace.

Oh let this holy fire bee still burning in my breast, that it may consume the corruption of mine infectious sinne, that cleaneth so fast vnto my bowels! Bow downe thine eare (oh my mercifull Saui­our) vnto my humble petition, and giue a gracious answere to my earnest supplication; then I shall bee emboldened to come before thy Maiestie, and to approach neere vnto thy seate of mercie. Oh let my morning and euening Sacrifice of thankes-giuing (my louing LORD, and bountifull [Page 248] Iesu) send vp a sweet sauour into thy nosthrils, which diddest suffer thy selfe to be scorned, scourged, and condemned, by the sentence of vvicked Pilate, onely for my sake, and my sinnes, to set my cap­tiue soule at libertie, and vvith the effusion of thy most precious bloud, to pay so deare a price, for the purchase of my Redemption.

Graunt that the remembrance of such a worthie, and more then wonderfull benefit, may euermore be fresh in my memorie, and laid vp as a most pretious Iewell, in the safest closet of my thank­full minde. And at the day of thy last iudgement, and generall Assi­ses, when thou shalt come to iudge the quicke and the dead, enter not into iudgement with thy seruant, nor remember mine iniquities, but iudge me with thine elected, ac­cording to thy mercie, that I may possesse the kingdome with them, [Page 249] vvhich thou hast prepared for them from the beginning of the world. Oh let my Prayer come before thy presence, let the zeale of my heart, and lifting vp of my hands, towards thy Throne of mercie, moue thee to grant the request of my hum­ble petition. Amen.

A Meditation how the Lord Ie­sus carrying his Crosse on his shoul­ders, is led to Mount Caluarie to be crucified, and of those things vvhich happened by the vvay. MED. XIII.

HE which will come after me, let him denie himselfe, take vp his Crosse, and follow me. Matth. 16.24. Runne and make hast, oh my soule, at the voice of our most sweet Redeemer, who bearing his Crosse on his owne shoulders, Ioh. 19.16.17. doth inuite thee to [Page 251] carrie thy Crosse, if thou desire to follow his steps. Oh how sweet, how delectable, how delightfull is it to carrie the Crosse after my Iesus! His happinesse cannot be vttered, his blessednesse cannot be imagined, which doth follow thee, my Lord Iesu, in thy blessed pathes: he walk­eth not in darknesse, he commeth not neere the shadow of death, but shall haue the light of life.

Come therefore oh my soule, let vs follow our Iesus, bearing his Crosse on his owne shoulders: let vs leaue all and follow him with alacritie, let nothing stop our passage, let not any thing hinder vs in our course: Looke vpon thy Lord, thy Creator, thy Re­deemer.

Consider his tedious labour, his grieuous afflictions, his intollera­ble torments, all of them vvithout any meane, none of them hauing any moderation: let thy vvhole [Page 252] minde be pondering on them, let them be the continuall matter of thy daily meditation.

Let thy heart be wounded with the sword of sorrow, and let thine eyes be drowned vvith a flood of teares: let thy heauie groanes and sorrowfull sighes beginne in the morning, and let them not cease in the euening: Oh let the feruen­cie of thy lamentation, demonstrate the burning zeale of thy compas­sion, which thou doest beare to mine afflicted Iesus.

Mourne vvith true contrition of heart for thine iniquities, and vveepe with hearty sinceritie for thy sinnes, vvhich caused thy Christ to carrie so heauie a crosse.

Here is plentifull matter for thy meditation: heere vvanteth no motiues to stirre vp in thee a fee­ling compassion, for thou seest how hee is scorned and despised, how cruelly, how currishly hee is abu­sed [Page 253] by the perfidious Iewes.

Who is so obdurate in heart, oh my most patient Iesus? vvho hath his affections so barren of compassion, that hee hath no sense of sorrow, when he entereth into a serious contemplation of the mul­titude of thine afflictions, and me­ditateth on the bitternesse of the passions which thou didst suffer to pay the ransome of our sinfull soules, and to deliuer them out of the bands of eternall captiui­tie?

For all the night thou vvert wearied with the out-cries of con­tumelious tongues, and tired with the violence of cruell hands, hurri­ed and haled from the Garden, where thou wert with thy louing Disciples: and although thou wert vvilling to goe of thy selfe, yet the churlish crew of hard-harted Souldiers vvere so froward, that their sturdie hands were alwaies [Page 254] readie to tugge and pull thee for­ward, to vexe thy feeble body, and to grieue thy righteous soule. For it was their solace to procure thy sorrow, it vvas their pleasure to augment thy paine, and they thought euery moment a moneth before they did present thee to An­nas, where thou wert rebuked with taunting checkes, & buffeted with vngentle blowes on thy tender cheekes, and after that thou hadst with exceeding patience, endured the bitter tempest of their furie, they brought thee from thence to the house of Caiphas, there to a­bide another storme of their ma­licious crueltie. Sometime they raile vpon thee vvith their cursed tongues, sometime they thumpe thee with their cruell hands, their speeches were full of odious spite, their vvords vvere infected vvith malicious venome vvhich they belched against thee my louing Sa­uiour: [Page 255] their deedes were nothing else but deadly cruelty, their words sauoured of nothing but barba­rous inhumanitie, they scoffed and derided thee with bitter iests, they defiled thy comely face with their filthie spettle. Then vvithout any pittie (alas how should they shew any pitty, whose hearts were hard­ned with bloud-thirstie crueltie?) they bring thee in hast to the Court of King Herod, where thou wert flouted at, reputed as a sot­tish foole, scorned, contemned, and derided like a simple Idiot: their mirth was Bedlam-madnes: their iestes were full of gall and bitternesse.

Now when they had acted their outragious villanies against thee, and executed their diuellish deui­ses vpon thee my innocent Iesus, yet all of them vvere too little to calme the tempest of their hate­full furie, but then this cursed [Page 256] crew doth hurrie thee from the vngratious Court of proud Herod, to the gracelesse house of Pontius Pilate, vvhere thou vvert taunted and checked againe vvith cruell quips, and sharply scourged with smarting vvhips, stripped naked, contrarie to all humanitie, and beaten with bitter blowes without any pittie: their whips were sharp to teare thy flesh, their tongues were as keene as rasors to wound thy soule, they pierced thy head with a crowne of thornes, & put­ting a feeble reede in thy hands, flouted thee vvith the name of a King; and bending their knees, did worship thee in derision, of­fending thy sacred eares vvith their cursed words, and afflicting thy vvounded body vvith their bloudie hands, and vvhen thou hadst beene so spitefully scorned, bitterly scourged, and vilely con­temned, at last thou wast wrong­fully [Page 257] condemned to suffer a most shamefull and dolefull death.

But (oh my sweet Iesu) who did afford thee any comfort in thy exceeding sorrowes? vvho did approach to cure thy bleeding wounds? Alas, there was no man by, vvhich vvas moued vvith any sorrowfull compassion for thy vndeserued calamitie, but euery man was forward to augment thy miserie. Now they lay a most huge and heauy crosse vpon thy woun­ded shoulders, the vveight of it doth make thy knees to tremble, thy legges to faile, and thy whole body to faint. And thus thou doest goe forward to the place of execution, guarded with a band of armed Souldiers, and hemd in on euery side with a rabble of bloudie tormentors, multitudes of the base and rude people doe flocke to­gether out of euery quarter, they crowd and thrust one another to [Page 258] see thee, but (alas) it was not to afford thee any compassionate pit­tie, but to laugh and reioyce at thy miserie. They proclaime out the malice of their heart against thee in their madnesse, and raile and re­uile thee in the heat of their furie: They all striue like Beares and fierce Lyons to approach neere vn­to thee: oh vvhat opprobrious speeches, what hatefull and odious rayling, what cursed words, what vncharitable deedes, did my most humble and patient Iesus suffer by those wicked & desperate peo­ple, whose eyes were more hard then a rocke, that they could not yeeld forth one teare for pittie, and hearts more vnapt then Adamant to relent with any tender compas­sion, when they saw so wofull and dolefull a spectacle?

But for all the venemous spee­ches vttered out of their railing mouthes, and for all the brutish [Page 259] deedes done vnto thee my louing Iesus with their cruell hands, thou didst not once open thy mouth to contradict them in their raging madnesse, or once to blame them in the heat and hate of their grea­test furie, but didst goe forward vvith meekenesse to the dolefull place of their bloudie execution, to suffer the painefull pangues, not for thy owne faults, but for mine iniquities, and that with thy preti­ous bloud thou mightst make a wholsome Bath, to cure the spots, and heale the blaines of my sin­full soule.

Teach me, oh my sweet Christ and louing Iesus, by thine example so to master mine affections, and to direct mine actions, that when mine enemies doe insult ouer mee vvith slaunderous vvords and slauish deedes, I may vvalke and tread in thy pathes with meeke­nesse of heart, and trace out thy [Page 260] steps with humility of minde, hea­ring their diuellish curses with si­lence, and bearing my heauie Crosse with patience, committing my cause vnto the GOD of ven­geance, who heareth the cries of the silly orphane, putteth the teares of the weeping vvidow into his bottle, and deliuereth poore cap­tiues out of prison when they call vpon him.

But tell me oh ye generation of vipers, tell me oh ye bloodie-hear­ted, and bloodie-handed Iewes, why were ye so bloodie minded against my innocent Iesus? vvhat horrible conspiracie had he plot­ted or practised against you, that yee vvere so eager to vndermine his life, and so greedie to hasten the bloodie day of his death? Is this the honour that you giue to my Sauiour? Is this the glorie you vouchsafe my Redeemer? Is this the kinde entertainement [Page 261] you afford to your Prophet, whom the day before you receiued with such ioy, spreading your garments on the ground, and couering the earth greene boughes, when he en­tred into Hierusalem. Oh most vn­gratefull, vnconstant, vngracious and gracelesse people! Is your loue so soone changed into dead­ly hate? is your late curtesie con­uerted into cruelty? were your fa­uours so quickly turned into frownes? Is your honour altered to shame? are your plausible spee­ches changed into bitter curses?

Doe yee to day lift him vp as high as Heauen, and to morrow throw him downe as low as Hell? Doe yee blesse him to day, and curse him to morrow? Doe yee flocke after him to day (that your tongues may sing forth his pray­ses) and to morrow doe ye crowd after him to fill his eares with re­proches? Doe ye to day entertaine [Page 262] him into the Citie (as desirous of his life) and to morrow doe yee leade him out of the Citie as a malefactor, to suffer a shamefull death? Did yee but now like him, and by and by doe yee lothe him? Is the milde complection of your loue, altered in a moment, into deadly hate? What was the cause of your mutabilitie? What was the occasi­on of your instabilitie? Were the affections of your hearts so mu­table, and your vnconstant desires so moneable?

So soone as you perceiued that my louing Iesus began to bee ha­ted of your enuious magistrates, and cruelly handled by their wic­ked ministers, scorned and scof­fed at by the Souldiers; tanted with proud and malicious words, bea­ten and buffeted with cruell blowes, scourged with whips, spitted vp­on by the scumme of the people, disdainfully contemned of the [Page 263] high Priests, and lastly, condem­ned by Pilate: then yee began to like of their chollericke humors, and to play the executioners of their bloudy hate: This day ye misuse and abuse him most vilely, whom but yesterday yee honoured and exalted so highly: Now your ma­lice towards him is without meane, and your cruell deeds with­out moderation. The cruell Enuy of the high Priest kindled the fire, and yee cast Oyle into it, to in­crease the flame.

Oh what extreame crueltie? what cruell extremitie? what ig­nominious indignitie, was done vnto my afflicted Iesus? Was not the edge of your malice yet reba­ted? Did the streame of your ha­tred growe to bee more violent? Was there no little corner left for pitty to lodge in your brests? Was there no motion of compassion within your bowels?

Tell me then, how could ye be so harsh-harted, and hard-handed, as to lay so heauy & huge a crosse vpon the shoulders of my poore afflicted Christ, whose blessed bo­dy was disquieted for want of sleepe, being cruelly tormented all the night, faint with losse of blood, and sore with store of cru­ell blowes?

Had Enuie so robbed your hearts, and dispoiled all your sen­ces of common humanitie, that you were now so poore, that yee were not able to bestow vpon him so much as one mite of mercie?

What infernall Phrensie, vvhat Tyrannous impietie, what execrable Tyranny can be compared to this Iewish crueltie?

But alas, was there not one a­mongst so many, vvhich vvas so kinde-harted, as to lend a helping hand to ease the weary shoulders of my Sauiour Christ, when his [Page 265] knees bended, and his legs trem­bled vnder the burden of his hea­uy Crosse? Oh let the lamentable relation of their furious ferocitie to my Iesus, be so odious vnto our eares, that it neuer finde any har­bour in our hearts.

Behold oh my sorrowfull soule, the monstrous Atrocitie of the stiffe-necked Iewes, and the mira­culous mildnesse of thy lowly Ie­sus! Consider his humble obedience, view his obedient humility, vvho was euer truly obedient euen vnto death, and euer was willing to of­fer vp his life, as a sure pledge of his infinite loue, towards his be­loued.

Behold, thou seest how mine afflicted Lord, wounded with the teeth of Enuie, and pierced with the darts of malice, grudgeth not at the paine, nor refuseth the tedi­ous labour, to carry the heauy burthen on his feeble necke, con­trary [Page 266] to all humanity, and with­out any pitty, so spitefully imposed vpon him.

But how should my sinnefull tongue divulgate the incompara­ble merite of thy admirable pati­ence, my most kinde, sweet, and humble Iesu. How should my vn­worthy vvords vtter the worthi­nes of thy vnspeakeable humili­ty, which wert willing to vndergo the burden of so heauy a Crosse, to deliuer me a most wretched sin­ner from a bitter curse, when the vigor of thy naturall faculties was decayed, thy humane strength weakened, and thy whole body wearied, with the grieuous paines, torments & afflictions, which the wicked Iewes (not fleshy, but flin­ty-hearted) without any mercy of theirs, and merit of thine, did cru­elly heape vpon thee?

Oh let my hart be deeply woun­ded with ceaselesse compunction. Let [Page 267] mine eyes be darkened with conti­nuall weeping: Yea, let all my sences be afflicted with mourning: that my sorrowes may be great, because my sinnes are so grieuous: For they indeed were the Tyrannicall tor­mentors that layd so heauy a Crosse on thy tyred shoulders: who out of the abundance of thy infi­nite loue, taking pitty on my wret­ched miserie, didst willingly sub­mit thy selfe to such slauish cruelty, not sparing to shed thy most pre­tious bloud, to compound of it a most soueraigne Medicine, to cure my desperate malady.

Now what measure of wordes can be so great, or what voyce so ve­hement, as may fully expresse the extreame impietie of the bloudy Iewes, towards my blessed Iesus. When such hellish fury did rule and reuell in their fiery harts, that in the middest of so many bitter paines and pangs of his body, and [Page 268] insupportable anguish of his soule, they did impose so ponderous and heauy a Crosse, on his faint and feeble shoulders, being fra­med extraordinarily in respect of the matter, and also vnvsually in regard of the forme.

More gently were the two Theeues vsed, which were led a­long with him; who were con­strained to endure no such labor: for we may wel think they would vse more kindnes to those wicked persons, then to my holy Iesus.

For we doe not read that they were put to the toile to beare their Crosses, whose bodies vvere more able, because they had not felt one fit of the grieuous paines, nor suf­fered one iot of the great tortures wherewith my sorrowful Sauiour had beene all the night before ex­treamely vexed and cruelly tor­mented.

Heere thou hast iust cause oh [Page 269] my soule, to cry out against the monstrous inhumanity, and bru­tish crueltie of the Iewes, acted a­gainst thy despised Iesus.

What imagination can sound the bottome of their sauage tyran­nie? What tongue is able to make a perfect relation of their horrible furie? Was it not a most ruthfull Spectacle, forcible enough to haue drawne streames of teares out of the dryest eye, and to haue incited a multitude of heauy groanes out of the hardest heart, to see my be­loued Lord carry so heauy a bur­den vpon his painefull shoulders, yet bleeding with cruell wounds, lately, without any meane, or mer­cie inflicted vpon them: was there euer cruelty like vnto this?

Oh my louing Lord! Oh my most beloued Iesu, thou art now become a laughing-stocke to the barbarous Gentiles, and matter of derision to the perfidious Iewes.

They scorned, despised, flouted and derided thee, bearing thy hea­uy Crosse with patience towards the place of execution, whereon thou shouldest suffer a most bloo­dy, bitter, and shamefull death.

And so went my Lord Iesus, with constant humanity towards the place where he was to suffer the deadly pangs of their extrea­mest tyranny, whose knees were so weake, and legs so feeble, that they were not able to support the weight of so heauy a burthen, which with such disdainful indig­nation they had imposed vpon him, that thereby they might so much the more increase his derisi­on, and multiply his dolorous af­fliction. Oh yee most cruell tor­mentors, doe yee neuer cease to molest & vexe my humbled Lord Iesus? Could not one cruell death haue quenched the flame of your blood-thirsting malice? Oh vvhy [Page 271] doe you abuse his meeke-minded patience, by compelling him to feele so many deadly passions?

Now when those malicious per­secutors saw that my vvearyed Christ was so surcharged vvith his heauy Crosse, being so weightie in respect of the ponderous sub­stance, and also so cumbersome, in regard of the extraordinary length, that although hee had a willing minde, yet that he had not sufficient strength to carry so hea­uie a load: then they compelled Simon of Cyrene (the father of Alex­ander Rufus) to ease him of his bur­then, and to follow my tyred Christ with that painefull Crosse. What, did their stonie hearts now begin to relent, vvith any motiue of compassion towards my poore afflicted Iesus?

No, for the Curres were more curteous, that licked the loath­some soares of hungry Lazarus, [Page 272] that lay crying, and dying for want of foode at the gate of their churlish maister, then those vncir­cumcised Gentiles, and stiffe-nec­ked Iewes were to my innocent Iesus.

For how should their mindes be affected with any sparke of pit­tie, whose harts were drowned in so deepe a sea of impietie?

But because they were loth that my Sauiour should end his tedious life before hee came where hee should suffer a most painefull, pit­tifull, and shamefull death, they graunted him a little ease, that he might goe with better speed, and make a little more haste to the place of execution, where they should play, like the infernall Fu­ries, the last act of their bloody Tragedie.

Oh my sadde and sorrowfull soule, how canst thou calme the waues of thy flowing sorrow? [Page 273] how canst thou how canst thou asswage the pangs of thy turbu­lent passions, when thou dost me­ditate how many miseries, & mis­chiefes, calamities and distresses, were violently inflicted vpon my beloued Iesus, by the hatefull handes of those bloudy tormen­tors?

Oh my most mercifull Iesu! Oh my most louing Lord! Oh why was not I with thee at that time, my sweet Christ, that I might haue carried thy heauy Crosse?

Oh, how happily should I haue shut vp the last euening of my short and gloomy dayes?

Oh how blessedly should I haue finished my restles course, if I had died with thee on thy sacred crosse?

Oh how sweet had the sharpe deadly pangs and dolorous paines beene vnto mee, how ioyfull had dolefull death bene vnto me a sor­rowfull sinner, if I had died with [Page 274] thee my bountifull Lord, and bles­sed Redeemer!

It may be thou wouldest haue bequeathed me some liberall gift of thine indulgent mercie: as thou didst vnto that true, though late repenting thiefe, vvhich was cruci­fied with thee. For at that houre thou didst franckely bestow the riches of thy bountiful mercy, and then thou gauest the treasure of thy mercifull bountie.

Then sweet streames of pure vvater did flowe out of the cleare fountaine of thy mercy, comforta­ble to coole the heat of a thirsty tongue, and medicinable to cure the spreading malady of a leperous soule, infected with sinne. Oh vvould I had bene there to haue had some sweet taste of that bles­sed fountaine! If I had drunke ne­uer so little, it would haue beene enough to haue quenched my thirst, and yet I should still haue [Page 275] thirsted to drinke more, although I had drunke neuer so much: If the cursed churle & damned glut­ton had had but one drop of this caelestiall water, it had bin sufficient, not onely to haue cooled the tip of his flaming tongue, but also to haue extinguished the fire of his euer & neuer-dying soule, and of his continuall burning and neuer con­suming body, tormented in Hell: fill my soule, oh my sweet Christ, with this comfortable vvater that may cure my sinfull soares, and mitti­gate my deserued sorrow.

But as thou didst go toward the place vvhere thou shouldst offer vp thy selfe for a compleat sacri­fice to appease the vvrath of thy angry Father, & to make an euer­lasting attonement betweene him and vs his disobedient children: thou saydst vnto those mour­ning women, who could not containe their trickling teares, [Page 276] nor deteine their sorrowfull sobs, to see their louing and dearely be­loued Lord so doggedly haled and currishly handled: Weepe not for me ye daughters of Ierusalem, weepe for your selues, & your children. Luk. 23.28. And now thou sayst vnto me, Weepe for thy selfe, bewaile thy sinnes, lament thy transgres­sions, for they indeed were the ty­rants that compelled thee to beare so heauy a Crosse, they vrged thee to abide the penalty of so bitter a curse. Touch my heart oh Lord, touch my heart with the sting of a serious and restlesse compuncti­on, that I may no longer lye lulled a sleepe in the lap of careles secu­rity: fetter my feet that I may runne no more in the broad way of iniquitie. Mannacle my hands that they may be deteined from cruell and impious actions: Snaffle the vnbrideled motions of my minde, that it may be restrai­ned [Page 277] from all idle, scelerous, and wicked cogitations: keepe the doore of my lips, and hedge in my tongue that it may not run with­out the bounds of reason: Stop the passage of mine eares, when they are allured to listen to any loose or lewd discourses.

Dispell, and disperse the thicke clowdes of blindnesse from mine eyes, take away the grosse scales, that darken my sight, so that now I may see the vgly and deformed shape of my sinnes, that I may cease to loue them, begin to dislike and to loath them, which caused my Sauiour to endure the heauy wrath of his Father, which lay so heauie vpon his soule and body, that the weight of it pressed blood out of his veines mingled vvith water, Luke 22.44. so ponderous was the burden of our iniquity, so dolorous was the extremity of his bitter agonie: for neuer was [Page 278] there sorrow like vnto this sor­row.

Let my sweetest musicke be con­tinuall mourning, let my songs of ioy be turned into wofull lamen­tations, let it be all my pleasant me­lody to muse on the miserie of my soule, and multitude of my sins, which made thee discend from the highest heauens, and will throw me downe to the lowest hell, vvhere the firie lake burneth that shal ne­uer be extinguished, whose flames is so fierce that it cannot be grea­ter by any augmentation, neither is it subiect to any diminution.

If all the torments vvhich bloo­dy Tyrants haue inuented could be inflicted vpon me at one time, and my body vvere able to feele the paines of all them at once, yet all of them vvould not be so hor­rible, as one sparkle of this terrible fire: it needeth no fuell to nourish the flame: as it selfe neuer is wa­sted, [Page 279] so nothing iniected into it is euer consumed. No tongue is able to expresse the horrible pangs of the damned soules which are tor­mented in this euerlasting and vn­quenchable fire.

Let the horror of it be fresh in my memory, and the meditation imprinted in my thoughts, so that my hands may tremble and shake for feare, and my whole bo­dy quiuer and quake vvith terror of it, when any euill imagination is hatched in my heart, or any wicked deed should be acted with my hands, that I may be terrified from nourishing sinne within my bosome, that layd so heauy a Crosse vpon thy shoulders: yet vvhen feare hath cast me downe, let the gentle hand of thy mercy raise mee vp, so that in my last deadly agony, I may still lift vp my heart and hands towards the seat of thy mercy: and though [Page 280] remembrance of my haynous transgressions do present nothing vnto mee but cause of feare and terrour, yet al my vnfained repen­tance cause me to taste of thy in­finite loue, and boundles mercy.

Teach me (oh my sweet Saui­our) to follow thee with feareful­nes to the place of execution, and to take vp my Crosse with alacrity on my shoulders. But if thou wilt haue mee to follow thee (oh my most gratious Lord) then draw mee after thee: For vnlesse thy Fa­ther and thou doe draw me, I am not able to follow thee, Iohn 6.44.

I see mine owne infirmity, I feele the defects of my great imbicility, the cup of affliction is bitter vnto my taste: if it doe but once touch my lips, I am ready to refuse it, I will none of it, I am loth to feele any paine, I couet nothing but wanton pleasure.

Oh how doe I begin to storme [Page 281] if I be but crossed with an vnkind word? much lesse am I able to beare the crosse of a malitious deed.

How is my minde troubled, & the temper of my senses distempe­red, if any thing fall out crosse to mine expectation, or contrary to my desire, so that oftentimes my mouth is filled with cursing, my heart with grudging, and all my words sauour of nothing else but bitter repining? I am willing to be thy disciple my blessed Sauior, so long as I may dwell in peace, and reape a plentifull haruest of prosperitie, but alas, I am weary of thy company, if I feele but a little blast of aduersitie: teach me oh my sweet Iesu (and I shal learne if thou be my schoolemaister) to know that it is the lot of those which will be trained vp in thy schoole, to be vnder the rodde of correction, and that none are wor­thy [Page 282] thy to receiue a Crowne, vnlesse they be willing to take vp thy Crosse, those that belong vnto sweet spices, which send forth alwayes the most odoriferous smell, when they are brayed and brused in the morter, they are like vnto stones which must be hammered, hewed, and squared, before they can be fit for the building of thy holy Temple: yea they are like vnto gold mixed with much drosse, and can haue no glory before they be fined and refined seauen times, yea sea­uenty times seauen times, in the fire of affliction.

Arme thou my hart with chri­stian fortitude, & my minde with constant patience, oh thou which art mine omnipotent Redeemer, that no torment may be so great, no affliction so grieuous, no mi­serie so vnmeasurable, but I may couragiously suffer it to publish the glory of thy name, and con­stantly [Page 283] endure it, to manifest the fidelitie of thy loue.

Teach me so to carrie thy Crosse in my heart, and let the re­membrance of it be so deepely im­printed in my minde, that I may daily crucifie my carnall concu­piscence, wanton vanities, and worldly desires. Oh let my soule be so rauished with ioy, by the sweet meditation of thy mercie, and all my senses so well pleased and ioyfully delighted with the odoriferous sent of thy loue; that I may seeke nothing, thinke of nothing so much, or speake of any thing so often, as of my crucified CHRIST, who, onely of his free mercy and gratious bountie, died a most vile, painefull, and ignominious death for mee a most vvretched, miserable, and desperate sinner, that by his pre­tious bloud, and blessed (though bitter PASSION) I might be [Page 284] made partaker of Euerlasting Sal­uation.

Graunt mee, oh my sweet CHRIST, some taste of it here vpon earth, that I may pa­tiently waite for the full fruition of it, hereafter in HEAVEN. Amen.

A Meditation, declaring the bitter and cruell crucifying of our Lord Iesus Christ, performed on Mount Caluarie. MED. XIIII.

NOw blessed Iesus, and my be­loued Sauiour, is come vnto Mount Caluarie, where he was to make the last period of all his hu­mane miserie, by suffering a most bloudie, vile, and violent death, being cruelly nayled to that Crosse, which of late lay so hea­uie vpon his shoulders, that his whole body did shake and tremble vnder the burthen.

Oh blessed Mountaine! happy for thy dignitie, happy for thy fer­tilitie, because it pleased the Lord Christ to suffer vpon thee. But who shall ascend vp to the Hill of the Lord, where the Lord Iesus is crucified? Truly he that hath in­nocent hands, and a cleane heart.

He vvhich loueth the Lord Ie­sus, with all his heart, with all his soule, with all his strength, hee shall ascend vp to his Mountaine, and shall be crucified vvith the Lord Iesus. Hee which hath cruci­fied his flesh, and the concupi­scence thereof, shall be crucified and suffer with his beloued Iesus. I desire to be crucified with thee, (oh my most sweet Iesu) I long to suffer on the crosse with thee, that I may be crowned by thee, but I know that first it is needefull for mee that the world be crucified vnto mee, and I vnto the vvorld. Gal. 6.14.

But now let vs see (oh my sor­rowfull soule) how my innocent Ie­sus was vsed by the rough-handed and cruell hearted tormentor, when he vvas come to the place of exe­cution, vvhere malefactors did suffer grieuous punishment for their hainous offences.

First, hauing exiled all compas­sion and pittie from their heart, they lay hold vpon him with their bloudie and polluted hands, and then they hastily rob and disroabe him of his garments, before a rude multitude of the basest and mea­nest of the people, yea, they strip him starke naked, that hee might appeare more vile and contempti­ble in their eyes.

Here hast thou good cause, and iust occasion my perplexed soule, to ouer-flowe thy cheekes afresh vvith a flood of teares, and to di­late and open thy heart, that thy heauie groanes, and sorrowfull [Page 288] sighes, may haue their free pas­sage, when thou seest thy louing Iesus stripped naked by the hands of such dogged and cruell tor­mentors, exposed to the eyes of the pittilesse people, and extreame coldnesse and roughnesse of the weather.

Oh how was the beauty of thy excellent composed body obscu­red with spots of bloud? how was the pure-white colour of thy skin made blacke and blew with bitter blowes, my most beautifull Iesu?

Oh how spitefull and vnappea­sable was their indignation! how bitter was the miserie? how great, yea exceeding great was the igno­minie of thy grieuous passion, my louing Christ, my mercifull Iesu? For so sharp was the edge of their cruelty, so eager was the malice of their hearts, and inhumanitie of their hands against thee, that thou art layde naked vpon the [Page 289] Crosse, vvhen as such extremitie was not vsed, but to most wicked, vile, and abiect persons, who for their notorious crimes deserued no pittie: such was their damna­ble impietie.

But vvhat a spring of bitter teares might arise in the vveeping eyes of thy sad and mourning Mo­ther? vvhat sword of sorrow did pierce her tender heart, vvhen she saw her deerely-louing, and deere­ly beloued Sonne, so roughly dis­robed of his cloathes, and nakedly exposed to the view of the rude, base, and common people, vvho came not with relenting hearts to shew any signe of sorrow at the execution of such bloudie cruel­tie, but rather to solace themselues, and to laugh, deride, and raile vpon thee, in this extreamest mi­serie?

Now when those cruell tormen­tors had speedily turned my inno­cent [Page 290] Iesus out of his cloathes, they layde his naked body vpon the Crosse, and first they nailed his in­nocent hands, and after his bles­sed feet, with long & strong nailes; So that the streames of bloud, spouting out of his veines, chan­ged the hew of his Crosse, into a crimson colour. Oh what grie­uous paine, what horrible tortures, did those wicked vvretches pro­cure to my blessed Sauiour?

Oh vvhat infernall furie had incensed their bloudie mindes? what diuellish madnesse enraged their hearts so farre to degene­rate from the ciuill nature of men, into the sauage nature of beasts? Oh spectacle full of sorrow! oh sight full of ruth, how grieuous vvould that pittifull sight haue beene to mine eyes, when the very Meditation of it doth so deepely wound my heart.

Though I know that the im­maculate [Page 291] Lambe was sacrificed on this woodden Altar, that he might wash and cleanse my polluted soule with his pretious bloud, take away the foule staines of my defi­led flesh, and by suffering so vile a death on the Crosse, to deliuer me from a bitter curse, due vnto mee for my great and grieuous sinnes: Yet needes must mine eyes haue melted (like Ice) into teares, my heart haue beene consumed with sobs, and all my bowels pained with compassion, if I had beene a wofull beholder of his dolefull Passion; vnlesse mine eyes had beene more drie then a flint, my heart more hard then iron, and my bowels composed of brasse.

But indeede, vvhat riuers of streaming teares should water my cheeks? what heauy groanes, and lamentable sighes should sound out of the bottome of my heart? How should all mine affections be [Page 292] drowned in the vvaues of afflicti­ons, when I contemplate the hidi­ous deformities of my vgly sinnes, and seriously meditate on the cru­ell tyrannie of my trayterous transgressions, which indeed were nothing else, but cruell hands, and a hard hammer, to driue the iron­nailes into thy blessed hands, and innocent feet, and to crash their tender bones into pieces.

Wound my soule (oh my sweet Iesu) pierce my heart, that it may streame forth blood, let nothing but mournfull sighes be pleasant vnto my vveeping eyes: let no­thing but voices of horror and la­mentation be delightfull vnto my dolefull eares, so that all my senses may be true mourners, to bewaile the crueltie of my sinnes, and to shew some tokens of true repen­tance for the multitude of my transgressions, which so pittifully wounded thy sacred body, and so [Page 293] grieuously vexed thy righteous soule.

Crucifie my heart, that it may die to wicked cogitations: Cru­cifie my hands, that they may haue no power to commit euill acti­ons: Crucifie mine eyes, that they may want light (in taking delight) to gaze vpon vvorldly vanities: Crucifie mine eares, that they may be dull and depriued of hearing, when they should listen to fruit­lesse and friuolous words, vnsauo­rie speeches, lasciuious, and wan­ton discourses: Crucifie my tongue, that it may haue no mo­tion to vtter any opposite thing to the pure Law of my God, or hurtfull to the commoditie of those which are godly and good. Crucifie my Taste, that it may not be allured with the wanton en­ticements of delicate meates, nor so ouercome with the baytes of plea­sant wine, that the eyes of my vn­derstanding [Page 294] be darke vvith the fumes of gluttony, or my soule be polluted, or my body defiled with filthie adulterie.

Crucifie the olde man (sinne) that hath beene my Tenant so long, and hath had his habitation in my bosome, that being dead, he may be carried out to his graue, that my soule may be infected no longer vvith his carnall impietie, and that I may no longer wilfully loue, but willingly loath, and for euer leaue his damnable com­pany.

But now (oh my sorrowfull soule) turne thine eyes towards thy crucified Iesus, meditate seri­ously in thy minde, & let it be the perpetuall matter of thy thoughts, to thinke how thy louing Sauiour was most pittifully martyred, and cruelly mangled, tortured vvith­out any pittie, scorned at his death vvith vile indignitie, and [Page 295] thought vnworthy of any mercy or kinde humanity, that thou mayest mourne for thy sinnes in the morning, and repent for thy misdeeds in the euening, vvhich were hard-hearted, and bloudie-handed executioners, to crucifie thy innocent Iesus.

Crie out, oh my vvretched, and vvicked soule, trembling at the vgly sight of thy grieuous sinnes, and troubled vvith the horrour of thy guiltie conscience. Cry out saying: Oh my sweet Ie­su! oh my milde and mercifull Ie­su! how exceeding painefull are the pangs of thy Passion? how violent are the streames of thy afflictions? how cruelly is thy bo­dy wounded, and thy soule pressed vvith the heauie vveight of my sinnes? Oh how horrible, how detestable, how innumerable are my transgressions, that tormen­ted my Sauiour vvith so many [Page 296] heauie afflictions? What a deere price didst thou pay for my Re­demption? At what a high rate hast thou bought me a most wret­ched sinner? no summes of gold had it beene neuer so much, no heapes of siluer had they beene neuer so great could rid mee out of Captiuitie: It vvas onely thy pretious bloud that might pay the price of my ransome. It was one­ly thy innocent death that vvas sufficient to purchase my free­dome.

How is the naked body of my louing Redeemer and kinde Re­conciler, stretched out vpon the Crosse, to deliuer mee from the bitter curse vvhich vvas due vnto me for my monstrous impiety, and the execution of it readie to be ser­ued vpon me for my intollerable iniquitie?

How firme are thy harmelesse hands fixed vnto thy Crosse? how [Page 297] hard are thy innocent feete nayled vnto it? Thou hast onely liberty to moue, but (Alas) no where to lay downe thy weake, and vvearie head. Thou liest naked, obiected to the blasts of the vvinde and storme of the weather, thou hast no cloathes to keepe thee warme, thou hast no shelter to keepe thee from harme.

Thou wert poore indeed at thy birth, but now thou art more poore at thy death: for at thy birth thou hadst a Stable for thy Chamber, and a Manger for thy Cradle: thou hadst swathling cloathes (although they vvere course) that might defend thee from colde, and cherish thy tender body. But at thy death thou art cruelly robbed of all thy garments, thou hast not so much as a ragge to lay vpon thee, the sharpnesse of the aire nippeth thy skin, the fu­rie of the windes stormeth against [Page 298] thy naked body, thou hast no roofe to couer thy head from the blustering windes: thou hast no place of harbour to protect thy body from the stormie weather: Oh how hard is the bed thou liest vpon at the houre of thy death? How hard is the pillow that lieth vnder thy head, when thou art readie to yeeld vp thy breath? How is thy blessed body debased by wretched men heere vpon the earth, which is so highly honou­red by the Angels in Heauen? Oh how should my heart faint vvith bleeding vvounds of sorrow for my sinnes? How should mine eies make my bed to flote with a flood of teares, when I begin to call to an audit my hainous trespasses, and to cast vp the infinit summes of my transgressions, which caused my Lord to passe through such a great Campe of miseries, and to abide the bitter brunts of so many [Page 299] calamities? for vvhat hadst thou done, oh my most sweet Lord? what hadst thou done, that thou should be so spitefully despised, so maliciously martired, so extreamely tortured, and so cruelly tormented? What wicked action had thy pure hands committed, nay what good deed had they omitted, that they should be so pittifully wounded? How had thy innocent feet trans­gressed, that they should be so se­uerely punished? How had any little particle of thy blessed body offended, that it should be so grie­uously tormented? Truly, thy deeds, my blessed Sauiour, were alwaies acted vvith integritie, and thy words did vtter nothing but truth and sinceritie: thy hands were al­waies cleane from sinfull actions, thy heart vvas alwaies pure from vvicked cogitations: It vvas thy meruailous loue, thy miracu­lous mercie, thine vnspeakeable [Page 300] pittie, that did induce thee to suffer those torments vvhich were due vnto me for mine offences. It was I my sweet Sauiour, it was I my selfe that had so grieuously sin­ned: It was thy wonderfull cha­ritie, it was thy charitable mercy, to shed thy pretious bloud, to cure the desperate disease, of my deadly miserie.

But such, oh such, and so vile is the horrible ingratitude of my minde; such, and so great, is the dulnesse of my memorie, such and so hard, is the stupiditie of my hart, that I am vnthankfull for thy mercy, forgetfull of thy bounty, senselesse without any compassi­on, yea quite colde, without any zealous meditation of thy grie­uous Passion.

Haue mercy vpon mee, oh my most mercifull Lord, haue mer­cie vpon mee, Oh let the sweet dew of thy infinite mercie, distill [Page 301] downe vpon my head: yea rather let it bee infused into my heart, that it may mollifie the hardnesse of mine affections, moisten the dri­nesse of my bowels, and fructifie my minde with the fruits of thy loue because I cannot, yea rather because I am vnwilling to suffer vvith thee, and loue thee so little, vvho hath alwaies loued mee so much: for I freely confesse, I haue no sense of thy innarrable, and in­numerable sorrowes, which thou didst suffer for the multitude of my sinnes. Alas mine eyes are dry without teares, my kinde Iesu, my heart is so dead, that it cannot breath forth any heauie groanes: mine affections are starke colde, without any heate of true deuoti­on, so often, yea rather so seldom, as I enter into a meditation of thy bitter Passion, and ruminate thy tedious paines and terrible pangs vvhich thou didst feele in thy [Page 302] most pretious body, to reuerse the sentence of damnation pronounced against me for my sinnes, and to purchase a gratious pardon for my condemned soule.

But pardon me, forgiue me my most mercifull Lord, I haue a hart of Iron, my bowels are more hard then Marble, vnlesse thou mollifie them, they are vnapt to receiue any print of thy mercie, or any impression of thy grace.

Take away from mee I pray thee my stonie heart, giue mee a fleshie and tender heart, that may be vvounded vvith the thornes of sorrowe for my rebellious thoughts, yeeld forth dolefull groanes for my grieuous sins, and bleed vvith the vvounds of com­punction, when my minde doth meditate on thy heauy Passion.

Oh why should not my heart, my vvretched heart, be pinched with some paine for the loue of [Page 303] thee, vvhich didst vvillingly vouchsafe to die for the loue of me? Wherefore haue the sparks of my loue lien so long couered in the embers? Or rather why are they almost extinguished? Oh what se­uere punishment should I take of my selfe, for my monstrous ingra­titude? How is my tongue able to vtter one word, yea one sillable of a word, to excuse the coldnesse of my loue? How may I blush, nay how may my face be confounded with shame vvhich am so vvay­ward, and vnwilling to suffer any little affliction for thy sake, who endured so many extreame tor­ments for my sinne? I lie on fea­ther-beds, couered vvarme vvith cloathes, and thou didst lie na­ked, nailed to a woodden Crosse, and that in the time of colde wea­ther, vvhen others doe vvarme themselues at a fire.

If my head begin to ake, I lay [Page 304] it downe vpon a soft pillow, to ease my paine, & lessen my griefe: But thou oh my louing Lord, hast not so much as a bolster of straw vvhereon thou mightest lay thy dying head, pierced with sharpe thornes, and bleeding vvith many wounds.

When I am sicke, my friends about mee bestirre themselues to ease my diseased body, and to re­uiue my fainting spirits. But alas (my sweet Sauiour) there vvas none about thee at the houre of thy pittifull and painefull death, vvhich vvould proffer thee any kinde deede, no, not so much as a comfortable word.

They offer thee bitter vvine mixed with mirrhe, and mingled with Gall. But although thy thirst was great, caused by the extremi­tie of thy paines, and immoderate effusion of thy blood, yet vvhen thou hadst tasted of it, thou didst [Page 305] refuse to drinke of their bitter potion.

How hard were their harts? yea how dead, without any feeling of common compassion, that could giue vnto my sweet Sauiour no better then such a bitter Potion?

Such was the succour that they would afford thee at the houre of thy death: This was the best Cor­diall they would giue thee a little before the parting of thy breath.

What iust occasion hadst thou my mercifull Redeemer? yea, what admirable patience hadst thou, that thou didst not bitterly in­ueigh against the bloudie Gen­tiles, and vnbeleeuing Iewes, who were so maliciously madded, and bloudily minded against thee, that all vvhich they sought, and all which they wrought, was to aug­ment thy sorrow?

But whilst their hearts were in­flamed with malice against thee, [Page 306] and their hands labouring to cru­cifie thee, thou wert so farre from accusing them for their sauadge cruelty, that thou didst pray vn­to thy heauenly Father, that hee would remit and forgiue their ini­quity, saying: Father pardon them, because they know not what they doe. Luk. 23.34.

And this oh my sweet Christ, vvas the first vvords vvhich thou spakest vpon thy bitter Crosse: Indeede they knew thee not, for their eyes were blinded that they could not see, and their hearts were hardned that they could not vnderstand.

Heere maist thou meditate (oh my soule) with exceeding comfort vpon the wonderfull patience, ad­mirable mercy, & sweet words of thy louing Sauiour, who was not so much grieued with paine of his owne afflictions, as hee was earnest to pray for the remission of their [Page 307] sinnes. Hee did not once open his mouth, to make any iust Apologie, for his owne innocencie, nor to denounce any deserued maledi­ction: No, not one bitter vvord a­gainst them, for their dogged cru­elty. But in the extremest pangs of his bitter Passion, his tender heart was moued vvith pittifull com­passion towards them, he opened the fountaine of his mercy, that the sweet streames of his Benedicti­on might flow vpon them. Hee blessed them that cursed him, hee shewed them a true token of his entire loue, for their cruell hate, he prayed for them as if they had been his dearest friends, when in­deed they were his deadly foes.

How should my feeble tongue, like a trumpet (oh my bountifull Iesu) sound forth the wonderfull worthinesse of thy surmounting mercy? How should mine vnable and barren hart, conceiue the dig­nitie [Page 308] of thine vncomparable meeknesse? How should the weake sight of my darke vnderstanding pierce into the hidden mysteries of thy gratious mildnesse, vvhich surpasseth all vnderstanding.

How affable and ineffable is the sweetnesse of thy charitable pray­er? how bottomlesse is the depth of thy clemencie? how vnex­haustible is the treasure of thy be­nignitie?

How large and spacious, yea how infinit are the bounds of thy mercie? For with what tranquili­ty of minde? with what piety and pittie of heart? with what sweet, milde, and perswasiue words didst thou sue for their pardon, vvho now were breathing out nothing else but curses against thee, vvith their malicious tongues, and euen now acting the extremity of their Tyrannie against thee with their bloudie hands?

Thou wert not discouraged by their iniuries, thou wert not hard­ned with their reproches: thou didst not rebuke them for their euill words: thou didst not check them for their wicked deeds: thou didst seeke to salue their soares, who gaue thee deadly wounds: thou diddest make intercession for their life, who cruelly put thee to death: thou wert full of pitty to­wards them, whose hearts were empty of all compassion towards thee. Oh with what wonderfull mildnes of mind, with what great deuotion of spirit, in what abun­dance of loue didst thou cry, Fa­ther, forgiue them? Oh wonderfull worke of thy worthy mercy! oh rare and memorable example of exceeding pitty! oh perfect pat­terne of excellent charity! oh let me poore wretched sinner, taste the sweetnes of this hony, reuiue my dying heart with this cordiall [Page 310] compassion, relieue my sicke soule with this comfortable confection. Cry out so for me, my sweet Lord, and kinde Mediator: commend my wofull case, and pleade my cause vnto thy Father, saying, Fa­ther forgiue him.

For in truth, I know not what I do: loue of the world hath blin­ded mine eyes, desire of carnall pleasures, is rooted in my heart, and all manner of wanton vanities are rife in my minde: I runne headlong in the broad way of de­struction: I cannot finde the nar­row path, which leadeth to Sal­uation.

Open mine eyes (oh Lord) that I may see to walke in thy wayes, and direct my feet, that I may tread in thy pathes.

Teach mee to follow the pat­terne of thy excellent patience, so that I may not wish well onely to my dearest friends, which dearely [Page 311] loue mee, but also pray for my cruell enemies, who deadly hate mee.

But alas, how soone am I dis­pleased? how long is it before I will forgiue, if I be once offended? I am prone with enuious Cain, to stain my hands with horrible mur­der. I long for a day with rough Esau, wherein I may slay my inno­cent brother. I oftentimes fall out with my friend for a crosse word, so that oftentimes in requitall, I seeke to doe him a mischieuous deed: I thinke my selfe the worse when I see him: Oh how doe I disdaine to speake vnto him?

Teach mee to learne this hard lesson of patience: purge the seed of malice out of my mind, mellow the ground of my heart vvith the deaw of thy graces, that it may not onely be tender, to giue my beloued poore Friends, but that it may also be pliable to forgiue my [Page 312] hatefull Foes: seeing that thou wert not so much touched with the sense of thy owne afflictions, (and no doubt the paines of them were most grieuous vnto thee) as thou wert mooued with zeale to pray for thy bloody enemies, when they made a prey of thy garments, and cast lots for thy vn­seamed vesture, Ioh. 19.24.

Now though Pilate gaue wrong­full iudgement against thee, to take away thy innocent life, yet he seemed to honour thee at the houre of thy death, when hee wrote on the Crosse, Iesus of Na­zareth, King of the Iewes, Matt. 27.37. Mar. 15.26. Luk. 23.38. Iohn 19.19. It pleased him to intitle thee a King by name, but alas, hee had no such conceit of thee in his secret thoughts. But indeed thou wert worthy of a far more hono­rable Title, being not onely King of the Iewes, but also of the Gen­tiles: [Page 313] Yea, Creator and Gouernor of euery creature.

Neuerthelesse, thou didst not clothe thy selfe with the vesture of our Humanitie, that thou shouldst be honoured with any worldly dignity.

It was thy chiefest honor to do the will of thy heauenly Father; Ioh. 14.31. thou camest not to de­priue Herod of his Kingdome, nor to gather any forces to deliuer the Iewes, as they fondly dreamed of their Messias, & vainely expected at the comming of their King.

Thou camest to deliuer the peo­ple from the Captiuity of their sinnes, and by shedding thy preti­ous blood to saue their soules. Graunt me oh my sweet Sauiour, that I may set open the dore of my heart, that thou mayest enter, which art the true King of glory, and that I may stil desire (althogh I am vnable) to shew my selfe a [Page 314] louing and loyall subiect to re­ceiue thee.

Send thy holy spirit, as a Har­benger before thee, to giue mee warning of thy comming, and then I shall be prepared to enter­taine my gratious Soueraigne; with humility of minde, and tokens of sincere loue.

I long (oh my King) for thy comming, for I am assured if thou vouchsafe to enter into my cottage, thou wilt bestow such a royall gift vpon mee, that I shall beginne to disdaine the pompe of the vvorld, and ac­count nothing so deare vnto mee as thy loue.

Oh would my louing Sauiour would imbrace mee betweene his blessed armes! Oh I vvish to liue, I long to die betwixt thy louing imbracements: thy armes vvere stretched out on the Crosse, as if thou wert ready to receiue any pe­nitent [Page 315] sinner, refuse not to receiue me a wretched sinner, who woun­ded with the horror of my sinnes, doe come vnto thee as my Physi­tion, who is only able and willing to heale my wounds. Let thy pre­tious blood stoppe the bloody is­sue of my sinnes: thy mercy, and nothing but thy mercy can cure my malady: that one, and that alone, is all my remedy.

Graunt mee (oh my sweet Iesu) that I may bee able to say vvith thine Apostle, I am crucified with thee. Crucifie my wanton flesh with the nayles of thy feare: mortifie my rebellious thoghts with dread of thy Iustice, and Meditation of thy iudgements. Let it be the ioy of my hart: let it be the daily exer­cise of my minde: let it be the ob­iect of all my thoughts to thinke on my Lord Iesus, and him cru­cified.

I cannot wonder enough, thogh [Page 316] I neuer cease to wonder at thee, my Iesu, my Sauiour, and my Re­deemer: yet let me neuer cease to maruaile at the wonderfull worke of thy Passion, which thou didst so patiently suffer, that by thy in­nocent death, thou mightest can­cell the obligation of our infinite debt, & affixe it to thy Crosse, that thou mightest deliuer vs poore and miserable wretches, from the danger of the curse, which was gone out against vs: Oh how can my meditations attaine to the length of thy admirable loue? how can my cogitations measure the bredth of thy clemency? how should my deepest imaginations diue into the depth of thy mercy?

My eye is too dimme, to per­ceiue the beauty, my eare is too dull, to heare the greatnesse, my hart is too grosse, to conceiue the goodnes, my taste is too weake, to rellish the sweetnes, my tongue is [Page 317] too feeble, to declare the worthi­nes of thy loue: no words, be they neuer so many, can expresse the quantity, no eloquence, be it neuer so excellent, can relate the quality.

Oh with what humility of minde, with what exceeding pati­ence, with what kinde and tender affections didst thou suffer the ex­treamest pangs of thy bitter affli­ctions?

How is my minde amazed with the bright beames of thy loue? How are all my thoughts con­founded with the greatnes of thy clemency?

How is my soule rauished with the goodnes of thy mercy? What did mooue thee, oh my sweet Sa­uiour, but thy vnspeakeable loue? what did induce thee, but thy in­comparable mercy, to pay so deere a price for my Redemption?

Oh let the remembrance of thy infinite bounty neuer depart out [Page 318] of my minde: Let all my affecti­ons be inflamed with the fire of thy loue: Let the sweetnesse and greatnesse of thy mercies be my chiefest Meditations: Mortifie my disobedient cogitations with thy feare, and crucifie my rebellious actions on thy Crosse: that although sinne must dwell and remaine in mee, yet it may not raigne and rule ouer mee.

A Meditation concerning the de­risions and scornefull speeches, vttered to the Lord IESVS, (when hee was nayled on the Crosse) by the Iewes, and one of the Theeues which were crucified with him; and of the second words he spake on the crosse. MED. XV.

NOw ruminate (oh my sor­rowful and lamenting soule) what scornefull speeches, vvhat [Page 320] spitefull derisions, and bitter re­proaches, were breathed out of the mouthes of the enuious Iewes a­gainst my patient and silent Iesus, after they had nailed his pure hands, & blessed feet to the Crosse.

Call home all thy wandring cogitations, that they may be soly and wholy intentiue to this hea­uenly and diuine meditation.

Let streames of teares gush out of my melting eyes, let them pe­netrate into my bosome, that they may mollifie my stony heart, so that it may be so deepely wounded with sorrowfull compassion, as if I had beene an eye-witnesse of his painefull Passion, when his in­nocent hands, and blessed feet streamed forth pretious blood: yet the streames of it could not quench the fire of their malice, they could not calme the rage of their stormy minds, nor breed any one thought of pitty in their cruel [Page 321] hearts: It was not sufficient for them to torment him with their bloody hands, but now at his vn­deserued death, they raile and re­uile him with their blasphemous mouthes: for as their hearts were stony, not apt to take any print of compassion, and their hands filled with sauage cruelty without mercy, so their words and speeches were vnciuil, void of all modesty. Some cry out, He saued others, let him saue himselfe if he be the Sonne of God the Souldiers disdainfully deride him, and scornfully mocke him, saying: If thou be king of the Iewes saue thy selfe. Also they that passe by, nod their heads at him, reuile him bit­terly, and blaspheme him, saying: Ah thou which doest destroy the Temple of God, and in three dayes dost build it againe, saue thy selfe: If thou be the Sonne of God, come downe from the Crosse: Oh how cruelly was my innocent Sauiour tormented [Page 322] with their vnmercifull hands? oh how was his righteous soule woū ­ded with their malicious tongues? their words do sauour of Gall, and their speech is more bitter then wormwood. But so great was their malice, so grieuous was their in­dignation, so deadly was their ha­tred against my louing Iesus, that they thought all their cruell deeds were too litle to be inflicted vpon him: and that all their words were not halfe bitter enough, which their venemous mouthes did spue out against him.

But as my blessed Redeemer did patiently suffer the extreame tortures of their merciles hands, so hee did meekely beare the bitter taunts of their reuiling tongues. Oh let the memory of this thy ex­ceeding patience bee so deepely sealed in my minde, that my thoughts may stil meditate on thy infinite loue! let my teares (often [Page 323] flowing out of my eyes) be true tokens of my inward sorrow, and let my grieuous groanes be as faithfull messengers to declare my true repentance: For it was my horrible transgressions and hai­nous offences, my kinde and lo­uing Sauiour, that made thee to abide the tyranny of their bloody and murthering hands, and to feele the sting of their sharpe and malicious tongues.

But (alas) mine eyes are so dry, that they cannot shed a teare, and my heart so hard, that it cannot yeeld a groane, vnlesse thou moy­sten the one with the gratious raine of thy graces, and mollifie the other, by the vertue of thy spirit.

Now not onely the irreligious Gentiles who were actors of this bloody Tragedy, and the enui­ous Iewes who were authors and Spectators of all their cruelty, [Page 324] did disgorge the bitter choller of their malice against my crucified Iesus, but also one of the malefac­tors hauing no remorse of consci­ence for his owne offences, nor pitty on my Sauiour, so grieuously taunted, and spightfully scorned of the basest of the people, began to raile vpon him without mode­stie, & to vse these tearmes against him, full of vile indignitie: If thou art Christ, saue thy selfe and vs, Luke 23.39. But his other fellow tou­ched with sorrow for his sinnes, and freely confessing that they had both worthily deserued, & did iustly suffer death for their trans­gressions, began to reprehend him for his blasphemous impietie, and to iustifie my Iesus for his blame­lesse innocency.

And when he had rebuked his fellow for such great inhumanity, he turned to my Sauiour to im­plore his mercy, that he might be [Page 325] made partaker of the ioyes of his heauenly Kingdome, vttering this short and sweet prayer: Lord re­member me, when thou commest into thy Kingdome. And hee had scant ended his short petition, but my mercifull Sauiour made him this gratious answere; Ʋerely I say vnto thee, this day thou shalt be with mee in Paradise, Luke 23.43.

But now let vs consider, oh my soule, with deuout attention, and behold with attentiue deuotion, what riches of infinite bounty, what large promises of vnmeasu­rable liberalitie, what a blessed in­heritance, my bountifull redeemer doth promise vnto this poore, na­ked, and true, though late repen­ting sinner.

How might this blessed promise mittigate the sorrowes, (Oh thou sorrowfull sinner,) of thy perplex­ed minde? How might it ease the soares of thine afflicted body? for [Page 326] as faith bred in thy heart a true contrition, and opened thy mouth to make that humble petition, so no doubt it sealed such an assu­rance vnto thy wounded consci­ence, that thou didst stedfastly beleeue his promise, and faith­fully looke for the performance. But how may my speech extend it selfe to the length of thy bound­lesse liberalitie (my most liberall Redeemer?) How may my words measure the bredth of thy vnli­mited mercy? yea how can my thoughts sound the bottomlesse Sea of thy benignitie? in thy first words vttered on the Crosse, thou doest pray thy Father to forgiue thy cruell tormentors, and in thy second words thou doest bounti­fully giue Paradice vnto a sorrow­full sinner.

Oh who can worthily estimate the dignitie of the gift? who can sufficiently extol the bounty of the [Page 327] giuer? although (my sweet Iesu) thy whole life was the merit of our sal­uation, yet at thy bitter death thou didst pay the full price of our re­demption. Oh happy theefe that had such a sweet tast of thy mercy! Oh blessed soule, that wert made partaker of such infinite bounty! Oh what great graces & excellent vertues were infused into thee, that thou didst beleeue my Iesus to be the true Son of God thy Creator: whom thou didst see to die the death of a miserable creature?

As thy faults were intollerable in thy dissolute life, so thy faith appeareth admirable at thy sor­rowfull death. For what but faith was the motiue to moue thee to sue to him to be remembred in his kingdome of eternall felicity, who to thy outward eyes appeared no­thing else but a spectacle of wo­full misery? and as thy confidence was great, and thy loue much, [Page 328] so thy Iesus doth speedily assure thee to enioy a bountifull reward.

Therefore I pray thee my most bountifull Iesu, so to inspire my minde with thy grace, and so to kindle thy loue in my brest, that I may be contented to be crucified with thee here vpon earth, that I may be receiued by thee into thy kingdome of heauen.

And grant that I may so truly lament for my trespasses, and shed such bitter teares for my sins that I may faithfully say with this peni­tent theefe: Lord remember mee when thou shalt come into thy King­dome. For I confesse O Lord, I haue beene no better then a Theefe, for I haue robbed thee of thy honor, I haue bene vntrue vnto thee con­cerning thy glory. My lips are defiled with lying, my hands haue wrought the workes of deceipt, I haue often beguiled the widdow, and defrauded the Orphane. I haue [Page 329] sought to make my selfe rich by oppression, I haue beene disobe­dient to my gouernours, and would not liue vnder their law­full subiection. Oh Lord remem­ber not my great and grieuous of­fences, let thy mercy blot them out of thy memory, that they may not be laid against me, when I shall be summoned to appeare before thee: Remember me accor­ding to the multitude of thy mer­cies, as thou didst this late-repen­ting malefactor, whom thou hast left vnto mee as one rare example of thy infinite mercy, that I should not dispaire in regard of thy iu­stice, and that I should not pre­sume to sin in respect of thy mer­cie. Oh let me remember this rare example of thy extraordinary goodnesse, so that I may neither dispaire with the heauy burden of my sinnes, nor presume without feare to transgresse the bounds of [Page 330] thy holy law: that although I haue runne long the wilde race of vnbrideled iniquitie, yet at last I may returne home vnto thee out of the way of impietie, vvith this faithfull and true repenting offender, and be a com­panion vvith him in thy Paradice of euerlasting felicitie.

A Meditation, concerning the la­mentation of the Virgine MARY, be­holding her Sonne, lifted vp vpon the Crosse, standing by it, accompanied with Iohn the Euangelist, and Mary Magdalene. MED. XVI.

NOw turne thy thoughts (Oh my sorrowfull soule, from the blasphemous reproches, scorn­full derisions, and malicious slan­ders of the wicked Iewes, insulting against my innocent IESVS.

And now thou hast heard how bountifull thy Sauiour was vnto the penitent Theefe, that was sor­rowfull for his owne iniquity, and couragious to iustifie my merci­full Redeemer, for his vnspotted innocency: Meditate a while on the Lamentation of his blessed Mother, whose heart was woun­ded with sorrow, to see her Sonne so cruelly tormented, when hee had neuer offended in word, nor imagined any euill in thought.

How sharpe was the sting of do­lour to wound her heart? how in­tollerable was the griefe that did trouble her minde, when shee saw his body bleeding with so many wounds, before her wofull eyes, and heard their bitter words and diuelish reproches cast out against him, in the audience of her dole­full eares.

As shee had cause to reioyce at his blessed Birth, so now shee had [Page 333] good occasion to mourne for his cruell death.

For though no doubt she was annointed with oyle of graces a­boue her fellowes, yet we may not thinke shee vvas quite exempted from the passions of a woman, or void of the tender affections of a Mother, when shee saw the harm­lesse head of her louing and belo­ued Son bleeding with a Crowne of Thornes, & his innocent hands, and blessed feete, fastened to the Crosse with iron nailes.

Certainely shee knew that his Conception vvas so sanctified by the holy Ghost in her wombe, that his most blessed body vvas al­waies free from the infection of impiety, and his flesh neuer tain­ted vvith the corruption of ini­quitie.

But yet shee knew hee did not suffer without sense of his paines, and although he was endued with [Page 334] a supernaturall patience, yet shee knew that he felt the pangs of his bitter Passion, subiect by his hu­mane nature to many infirmities as we are: yet euer hauing a pure heart and cleane hands, from the spots of sinne, vvherewith our soules are polluted, & our bodies continually infected.

Wherefore thinke oh my soule, that as her afflictions were grie­uous, so her lamentation vvas great: suppose that thou doest see her, with her face discolored with palenesse, discouering her mo­therly sorrow to thy outward eies, and that thou didst heare her mournefull tongue, telling this dolefull tale to thy attentiue eares, vvhich should cause thee to be a partner with her in her woe, and sigh for thy sinnes, which vvere the cause of her sorrow, to see her beloued Sonne so cruelly crucifi­ed by the Gentiles, and so disdain­fully [Page 335] derided by the Iewes.

Thinke (I say) that thou doest see her vvatering her eyes vvith store of teares & vttering these or the like words, with her sorrowfull lips to her dearely beloued Son, (which words should draw out teares from thine eyes, and driue out groanes from thy hart) which shee pronounced with a dolefull accent in this or the like manner.

Oh what medicine, (be it neuer so soueraigne) can asswage the ri­gour of my malady? what salue (be it neuer so precious) can heale the wounds of my bleeding heart? vvhat vvords (be they neuer so comfortable) can cheare vp my dolefull minde, when I see thee my beloued Sonne, so cruelly tor­mented, and so ignominiously taunted? Alas for me poore wretch thy sorrowfull Mother.

How intollerable is the paine? how grieuous is the punishment [Page 336] that is inflicted vpon thee? Thy death is not so bitter vnto mee, (and yet how loath I am to for­goe thee,) as these cruell torments which I see, doe torture thy inno­cent body, and doe greatly aug­ment the sorrow of my perplexed minde. As thy blessed life was the cause of my chiefest felicity, so will thy bitter death be the beginning of my miserie.

Who shall afford mee comfort in the time of my calamity? who shall giue me counsell? who shall be my succour in the time of my necessitie, vvhen I am separated from thee? How shall I spend the daies with sorrowing, and passe through the teadious nights with mourning?

But thou oh my GOD om­nipotent, vvhich art his eter­nall Father, vvho canst not shut thine eies of compassion from thine afflicted Sonne, comfort [Page 337] mee his sorrowfull Mother.

Thou seest the wounds of his body, thou knowest the sorrowes of my heart, and because thou art a Father of mercies, and a GOD of all consolation, looke downe vpon me out of thy holy Sanctu­arie, and as thou hast proued me to be thy faithfull Handmaide, so let the sweetnesse of thy Fatherly loue, temper the bitternesse of my griefe, that although I be depri­ued from the humane societie of my Sonne, yet the vvings of thy prouidence, may still ouershadow mee, and thy omnipotent arme safely protect me.

But as the Virgine Marie did bewaile the cruell and bloudie death of her innocent Sonne, so Marie Magdalene, vvith many teares gushing out of her eyes, be­gan to lament the wofull case of him her louing Master, on this or such like manner.

Oh my deere Master! oh my gracious Lord! oh my blessed and bountifull benefactor! I can­not liue without thy louing com­pany: I cannot abide, without thy amiable Societie: What tongue, though it speake neuer so dole­full, can truly relate my sorrow? What vvords, be they neuer so rhetoricall, can ease my inward griefe, vvhen I see I shall be sepa­rated from so louing and so kinde a Master?

Oh how tyrannous are the tor­ments wherewith the bloudy tor­mentors doe torment thine affli­cted body? How sharpe are the arrowes of their malice, vvhere­with they vvound thy righteous soule? How grieuous is the sight of their cruell deedes vnto mine eyes? How odious are their dog­ged words vnto mine eares? Yet my constant loue vnto thee, will not giue mee leaue to leaue thee, [Page 339] (though it be a death vnto mee to see thy calamity) so long as mine eyes may behold thee.

The sight of the bitter pangs of thy Passion doth affright me with horrour: The signes of thy ap­proaching death, doth confound my senses with continuall terror: I see thy head which I annointed with pretious oyntment, cruelly pierced with Thornes, & pittifully bleedihg with many wounds.

I see thy harmlesse hands pier­ced with iron nayles, and thy in­nocent feete stained vvith bloud, which I bathed with the teares of mine eyes, and vviped vvith the haire of my head.

Oh how should I sufficiently bewaile the innocent death of my louing Iesus?

How doth my heart faint with sorrow, and my senses faile me for griefe, when I see the torments of his body, and when I thinke [Page 340] vpon the affliction of his soule? But alas, the waues of sorrow doe stop the passage of my words, my speech faileth, and my voice faint­eth for griefe.

Now thou hast heard (my sor­rowfull soule) the lamentation of the Virgine Marie, as a kinde Mo­ther, sorrowing for the death of her dearest Sonne: and the pitti­full mourning of Marie Magda­lene, sighing for the losse of so lo­uing and kinde a Master; Cease not thou to shed teares, with thy weeping eyes, and to sob vvith a broken and contrite heart, for the cruell and shamefull death of thy louing Sauiour, who died for thy hainous sinnes, and suffered for thy horrible transgressions.

Grant me, oh my most gratious Lord, that my head may flowe with water, and that mine eyes may be turned into a fountaine of teares: For vvhere shall I goe to [Page 341] draw water, but to the fountaine of my Sauiour?

Oh why should I cease to weepe for thy sake, vvhen thou didst vveepe so often, because of my sinnes? Thou hast told me, that they are happy, and blessed, that mourne for their sinnes, and la­ment for their offences, and that they shall be comforted in the day of their trouble, and receiue con­solation at the houre of their af­fliction.

Draw me (oh Lord) vnto thee, that I may behold thee, and take such hold of thee, that thou maist neuer depart from me.

Receiue mee into the little number of thy louing and faith­full friends, who would not leaue thee in thy extreamest miserie, but did weepe and sigh to see thy cala­mitie: so that being partaker with them of their sorrow, by my me­ditation of thy bitter Passion, [Page 342] suffered here vpon earth, I may be made copartner with them of thine vnspeakeable ioyes, in thy blessed Kingdome of heauen. Oh let thine eares be open to the petition of my lips, and let thy mercy grant the desire of my heart.

A Meditation concerning the ob­scuration and Eclipse of the Sunne a­bout the ninth houre, and of the fourth speech which the Lord spake on the Crosse. MED. XVII.

NOw call to minde my sinfull soule, how the firmament was darkened, the Sunne eclipsed, and his beames obscured at the bitter Passion of thy Sauiour. And mer­uaile not that the brightnesse of the Sunne vvas dimmed, and that his golden beames, did not shew forth their glorie, vvhen as the [Page 344] Sonne of righteousnesse, my in­nocent Iesus had his beautie ob­scured, and his glory darkened with the clowdes of his grieuous and bitter Passion. And if thou consider the cruelty of his ene­mies, and the malice of his foes, so virulent in the diuellish cogita­tions of their hearts, and so vio­lent in the bloudy actions of their hands: thou maist thinke that the Sunne did as it vvere disdaine to afford them his comfortable heat, or deny them his cheerefull light, that so their eyes might be ouer-shadowed with darknesse, as the light of their vnderstanding vvas obscured with malice.

But meditate not onely oh my soule, on the horrible cruelty of the barbarous Gentiles, and on the execrable spite of the bloudy Iewes, and that their facts vvere so odious, and their deedes so de­testable, that they seemed to de­priue [Page 345] the Sunne of his splendant brightnes, and to rob the earth of her chiefest comfort: but more often thinke seriously of thy sins, & meditate sincerely of thy trans­gressions, which darken the light of thy minde, & eclipse the beames of thy vnderstanding, so that thou doest not see to tread in the path of harmelesse piety, but doest wan­der beside it, into the dangerous waies of damnable iniquity.

Wherefore let the light of thine eyes be obscured with weeping, and thy heart ake with groaning, as outward signes of thy inward sorrow, as faithfull witnesses of thy serious and true repentance: so that the bright beames of the comfortable loue of thy Redeemer may still enlighten thy heart, and the light of his cheerefull counte­nance euermore shine vpon thee. Oh let not the mistie vapours of my grosse offences, my mercifull [Page 346] Sauiour, so obscure the beames of thy mercy, but that their gratious influence may still haue their po­werfull operation in my minde, and reuiue my dead heart with the liuely motions of feruent and true deuotion. Let the vertue of thy Spirit so dispell and dispierce the thicke cloudes of my sinnes, that my soule may be cherished vvith the heat of thy loue, and see the brightnesse of thy glory.

But now cease thou my soule, to behold the darkned Sun with thine amazed eyes, and attend to thy voice of thy crying Sauiour with thine attentiue eares. What mournefull tongue can vtter the sharpenesse of his agony? vvhat thought can conceiue the great­nesse of his paine? Oh how grie­uous vvas the extreamity of his pangs, vvhich made him lift vp his eyes vnto heauen, and his ear­nest and loud voice vnto his Ce­lestiall [Page 347] Father, crying out in this wofull manner: Eli, Eli, lamma­zabatani? my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken mee? Oh how vehe­ment was the wrath of thy angry Father against thee my mercifull Iesu, my louing Sauiour? how vi­olent vvere the torments that vex­ed thy body? How grieuous were the afflictions that pressed and perplexed thy minde, groaning vnder the heauie burden of our sinnes, imposed vpon thine inno­cent shoulders? Indeede our hay­nous sinnes, our horrible trans­gressions, moued false-hearted Iu­das to betray thee, and induced the stubborne-minded Iewes to reiect thee: they made thy Disciples to flye for feare, and to leaue their louing Master in time of dan­ger: they compelled thy head to bee crowned vvith pricking thornes, thy face to be defiled with spettle, thy body to be scourged [Page 348] with vvhippes: they pierced thy hands, and nailed thy feete, they were the hammer and nailes that fastned thee to the Crosse. These caused thy Father to punish thee with the seuerity of his iustice, that thou being innocent, mightst make satisfaction for our trespas­ses, suffering a shamefull and cru­ell death to finish the great worke of our redemption, and to deliuer our bodies and soules from eter­nall destruction. These made thy louing Father seeme to withdraw his cheerefull countenance from thee, because thou didst appeare so deformed to his eyes, and vgly in his sight, hauing put on the fil­thy ragges of our iniquitie: al­though hee did alwaies loue thee, and could neuer leaue thee, being alwaies beautifull vvith the true ornaments of thy owne integrity. Oh how should mine eyes water my bed with flowing teares, and [Page 349] my heart labour with continuall groanes, to weepe for the cruelty of my sinnes, and to lament for the tyrannie of my transgressions: which vvere such cruell tormen­tors, to torture thy body, and such furious tyrants to vexe thy soule? how great oh my sweet Iesu, are the tortures which thou doest pa­tiently endure for my sake? how painefull, how shamefull, and cur­sed vvas the death vvhich thou didst suffer for my sinnes? the punishment was great wherewith thy body was afflicted, the anguish was grieuous, wherewith thy soule was affected, the thornes vvere sharpe, that wounded thy sacred head, the whips were terrible that scourged thy naked body, the nailes were painefull that entred through thy hands and pierced thy feete: nothing but markes of cruelty appeared to thine eyes, no­thing but scornefull reproaches [Page 350] of thine enemies sounded in thy eares. But as thy outward afflicti­ons were vnspeakeable, so thy in­ward sorrow was more intollera­ble, vvhen thou didst thinke how forgetfull vvee vvould be of thy mercies, and how vnthankfull we would be for thy benefits.

And as thou, my most deare Iesu, in the fiercest fittes of thine agonie, and sorest pangs of thy Passion, didst call, and crie to thy heauenly Father for succour, so teach mee to lift vp my deuout heart, pure hands, and a lowde voice, towards the seat of mercy, when any outward affliction doth pinch my body, or any inward tri­bulation presse my soule: teach me oh Lord in the stormie daies of my greatest persecutions, to meditate on thy vvonted good­nesse, and when my soule is most perplexed with the horror of my guilty conscience, to thinke on [Page 351] the multitude of thy mercies.

But forsake mee not, my sweet Iesu, vvhen my strength faileth: vphold mee when my feete begin to slide, and raise mee vp vvhen I begin to fall: thou doest neuer leaue them vvithout comfort in time of their trouble, vvho come vnto thee vvith confidence of thy promises, and faithfully craue thy succour: Oh suffer not my soule to be cast downe vvith immode­rate mourning, or my mouth to be filled vvith murmuring, when thy hand lieth heauie vpon mee. Comfort my drouping heart with some taste of thy heauenly consolation, vvhen either the sword of persecution doth vvound my body, or sorrow for my sinnes doth afflict my minde. Let mee remember that thy children are in this vvorld as the Israelites were in the Desart: they shall haue many cruell foes, abide hunger [Page 352] and thirst, runne through many dangers, and drinke of the bitter waters of Mara, before they can come into heauenly Canaan, and chaw the Wormewood of afflicti­on, before they can eate of the fruit of the tree of life, more sweet then milke, and more delicate then hony. Let me remember, that A­braham the Father of the faithfull, was often afflicted: that Iacob thy beloued, was constrained to flye for feare of Esau, his rough-handed, and hard-harted brother, and then vngently intreated, and vniustly rewarded for his faithfull seruice, by Laban his churlish Vnckle. That Dauid thy chosen vvas often in danger of his life, pursued and persecuted by furious Saul, before he was aduanced to his Kingdome. Oh let mee not forget the many miseries, and bit­ter afflictions, which tumbled in heapes vpon Iob thy faithfull ser­uant: [Page 353] Let their patience calme the turbulent motions of my repining minde, and let the remembrance of their deliuerance arme my hart with a confident and stedfast reso­lution, that the eye of thy carefull prouidence neuer sleepeth nor slumbreth, but continually watch­eth ouer thy faithfull and belo­ued, and that thine omnipotent arme is then stretched out to rid them out of perill, vvhen they seeme to be in a desperate case, past all hope, and farthest from suc­cour.

And let me know that afflicti­on is the best hope that thy chil­dren may expect in this worldly Lotterie, but yet let the anchor of my hope take such sure hold on thy promises in the time of my misery, that I may alwaies be assu­red, that thou art able, and neuer vnwilling to cure my maladie, if I call faithfully vpon thy name, and [Page 354] waite thy appointed time with pa­tience, abiding constant in thy loue, and confident in thy vvord. Grant mee oh my Lord Iesus, to crie out vnto thee in the daies of my trouble, & to craue thy strong aide in the houre of my tribulation. O let mee drinke a deepe draught of the fountaine of thy mercie, vvhen my poore heart is parched with thirst, in this world of mise­rie: Heare me from Heauen, and let my voice sound in thine eares, that I may receiue comfort when I am distressed, helpe me vvhen I am oppressed, and peace of con­science when my soule is afflicted, that when I feele the sweet taste of thy mercy, my lips may shew thy praise, and my tongue declare thy glory, saying: With my voyce I cri­ed vnto the Lord, with my voyce I prayed vnto the Lord, and hee heard mee.

A Meditation, concerning the fift and sixt words, which the Lord Iesus spake on the Crosse; to wit, I thirst, and It is finished. MED. XVIII.

HEere (Oh my soule) consider not onely the woes, but mark the words of thy dying Iesus: thou didst heare him cry vnto his hea­uenly Father, with feruencie of his affection, vttering the vehemencie of his affliction, and now heare thy wofull Iesus, speaking vnto the wilfull deafe-eard, and dead-hearted Iewes, saying, I thirst.

And although enuie had so parched vp their hearts, that they had no sap of relenting pittie, yet let his words pierce so deepe into thy tender heart, that it may be wounded vvith true compuncti­on, and stirre vp actiue and liuely motions of compassion vvithin thy bowels, so often as thou dost thinke on his necessity, and so of­ten as thou dost meditate on his calamity: but alas, thou dost sel­dome or neuer meditate on his humane misery.

Oh what grieuous infirmities, miseries, distresses, and calamities, did our fraile assumed nature bring vpon thee, my louing, sweet, and mercifull Iesu?

How many great and vnsup­portable torments did our sinne, (yea my sinnes, made thine by im­putation) compell thee to suffer?

What did cause thee to doe it my blessed Sauiour, but the ardent [Page 357] feruour of thy exceeding loue? What worthinesse of merit was there in vs, as a motiue to mooue thee? it was thine vnspeakeable mercy, and nothing but thine in­estimable mercy, which did in­duce thee.

But canst thou (oh my sorrow­full soule) containe thy teares within the little caue of thine eyes, and suppresse thy groanes, and represse thy sighes within the hollow corners and cauernes of thy heart, when thou doest thinke on the extreame thirst of thy lo­uing Iesus, and of the small com­passion that was shewed vnto him by the vnmercifull Iewes? where­fore cry out with the voyce of mourning, and lament in thy cry­ing, & say vnto thy beloued Iesus, Oh my most louing Lord, oh my most gracious Reconciler, oh my most mercifull Redeemer, how should my sad & sorrowfull soule [Page 358] be afflicted with heauinesse? how should all my sences be afflicted with mourning, vvhen my minde doth contemplate the wounds of thy body, and meditate the sorrow of thy soule, afflicted with the deadly pangs of thy bitter passion, vvhich inflamed thy heart with excessiue heat, and dried vp the moysture of thy bowels, with im­moderate thirst? And how should mine eyes swell with weeping, and my hart be wearied with groning, to bewaile my sinnes, which so sharpened the hearts of the Gen­tiles, vvith the eagernesse of cruel­tie, and so shortned the hands of the Iewes, vvith the malice of im­pietie, that they reteined no sparke of pitty in their hearts, nor would extend their hands to giue thee any comfortable refreshing in thy greatest extreamity? But as their hearts and bowels were filled with sharpe, sower, and malicious hu­mors, [Page 359] so they giue thee a sowre and bitter drinke, compounded of Gall and Vinegar.

Oh nefarious & horrible impiety! oh detestable cruelty of the perfi­dious Iewes, to be so stony-harted, as not to afford so much as a draught of cold water to my dying Iesus, vvho is able to giue water of life, which shall so plentifully sa­tisfie the longing desire of those that drinke of it, that they shall ne­uer after be molested vvith thirst, nor haue any necessity to drinke.

Oh would I had beene there my bountifull Iesu, that my vvee­ping eyes might haue afforded thee store of water, to haue slaked thy drinesse, and quenched thy thirst. Oh how extreame vvas the griefe of thy tender-hearted Mo­ther! Oh how sorrowfull vvas the sadnes of Iohn thy louing Disciple, who loued thee so tenderly, & was beloued of thee so intirely?

Oh how dolorous was the la­mentation of Mary Magdalene, mourning for thee her kinde di­stressed Master, who had forgiuen her many sinnes, because shee had shewed thee much loue! Who all did behold thee with their wofull eyes, and did heare thee with their doleful eares, complaine that thou wert dry and thirsty, and no doubt but they did all wish with sighes, & desire with heauy groanes, that they had beene able, (but alas, they might not be suffred) to giue thee some comfortable refreshing.

When the Diuell our ancient e­nemy did tempt thee in the Wil­dernesse, thou wert pinched with hunger, & at thy death thou wert parched with thirst, thy moysture dryed vp like a pot-shard, and thy tongue cleauing to the rooffe of thy mouth.

Now what are these naturall wants and weak infirmities found [Page 361] in thy body, but strong arguments vnto vs of thy true man-hood, and true testimonies of thy humane nature, that we might know, that although thou wert indued with exceeding patience, yet that thou being man, wert subiect to our pas­sions: but as thy sacred Concepti­on was free from all carnall cor­ruption, so thy pure Life was al­waies free from all sinnefull in­fection.

Thou hadst great cause (my lo­uing Sauiour) to be molested with drinesse, and grieued with thirst, when as thy body was distempe­red with watching, brused with cru­ell blowes, and thy bloud exhau­sted with thy bleeding wounds: yet such as was the inhumanity, such was the cruelty of the pittilesse Iewes, that in this extremitie they would not afford thee a cuppe of colde water. But is it credible, yea, is it possible, that my Sauior should [Page 362] be afflicted vvith thirst at his death, who hath tolde vs (and it is true that hee hath told vs) that he hath the water of life?

Tell me my bountifull Iesu, how was thy moisture consumed? what caused thy thirst? art thou not hee which cryed, If any man thirst, let him come to me & drinke? Ioh. 7.37. art thou able to satisfie others that are thirsty, and art thou thy selfe oppressed with thirst? art not thou he my louing Sauiour, which said to the woman of Samaria, that thou hadst the water of life, & that hee vvhich should drinke of this wa­ter, should neuer thirst any more, but that it should be a well of water in him, springing vp vnto euerlasting life.

Thy speech (my Sauiour) is veri­tie: and thy words are truth: thou hast the water of life, thou art able, and as thou art able, so thou art most willing, to refresh our thirsty soules, vvith this blessed vvater, [Page 363] if vvee will resort to drinke of thy pure and Christall fountaine: I will come vnto thee (my sweet Iesu) that thou mayest satisfie my soule vvith thine euerlasting bread, and quench my thirst with this Water of life: for my soule thirsteth af­ter God, which is a liuing Foun­taine.

I will cry vnto thee, the Lord my God, my Sauiour, my protec­tor, and I will say, I thirst, I thirst, my bountifull Iesu: Oh that I might haue but so much as a little taste of this Caelestiall water: Oh how doe I long to drinke of this fountaine! quench thou my thirst, oh my sweet Iesu, with this liuing Water, for thou onely art able to quench my thirst, because vvith thee there is the fountaine of life.

And graunt that my soule may still thirst with such a longing af­ter thy loue, that it may make haste to these waters of comfort.

Oh how dangerous and deadly were my malady? how vnsuffera­ble were my misery? how damna­ble were my state? how desperate were my case, if I should not drink of this heauenly Fountaine?

But as the spring of these bles­sed and wholesome waters doth euer flowe, and as thy vnstinted bounty (oh my mercifull Sauiour, euer aboundeth) so thou doest ne­uer deny any thirsty soule to drinke of this liuing water.

Wherefore let the feruency of thy loue so inflame my soule, that it may thirst, and thirsting, may runne vnto thee, to be refreshed with this comfortable water.

I know, oh my blessed Redee­mer, that thou wert not onely af­flicted with thirst in thy body, but that thou wert more affected with thirst in thy spirit.

Heare thou, (oh my thirsty soule) the sweet word of thy Sa­uiour! [Page 365] Oh with what exceeding mercy is it replenished? with what inestimable Charity is it vttered?

He saith, I thirst: but he saith not, I am pained, grieued, or afflicted: And what dost thou thirst for so much, oh my louing Lord? Thou dost not thirst so much for wine which is pressed out of the grapes of the Vine: or for water which floweth out of the Riuer: but thy thirst is my saluation, thy meat is my redemption. Thou doest thirst for my faith, my saluation, my ioy: this spirituall thirst did more affect thy soule, then any naturall or humane thirst could afflict thy body: Therefore thirst thou (oh my soule after thy lo­uing and merciful Sauiour) as the thirsty Hart desireth the water. Oh how canst thou but thirst after him, who hath thirsteth so much after thee? Let all things (be they neuer so sower) be pleasant vnto [Page 366] thee for his sake: let all things (be they neuer so bitter) be most sweet vnto thee for his loue. Refuse not to drinke of the bitter cup of af­fliction for his cause, and hee will not faile to refresh thee in the time of thy calamitie, his hand shall be stretched out to deliuer thee in thy necessitie.

Grant me my Lord, that I may offer vnto thee the wine of my true deuotion, vvith the Mirrhe of mortification, and gall of hearty contrition. But as it might be dole­full vnto thee my soule, to heare thy louing Iesus cry out, Sitio, I thirst: so let it be ioyfull vnto thee, to heare him take his farewel with Consummatum est, It is finished, Ioh. 19.30. Oh let the Meditation of this word be more sweet vnto me, then the hony vvhich Sampson found in the carkasse of the Lyon, vvhen he was hungry, Iudg. 14 8. and more delectable vnto mee, [Page 367] then the vvater vvhich hee found in the Iawbone of the Asse, vvhen he vvas thirsty, Iudg. 15.19. For now had my blessed Redeemer fulfilled the sacred decrees of the holy Scriptures, concerning my saluation, and appeased the wrath of his Father, kindled against me for my sinnes.

Now he had cancelled the Ob­ligation of my infinite debt, and not vvith siluer and gold, but with his owne most pretious blood purchased my Redemption: And by his death, conquered death, hell and the deuill.

Oh happy death that hath re­deemed mee to eternall life! Oh glorious victory, although my Sauiour obtained it so dearely! Therefore let mee not be carelesse to sell that so cheape, which my Sauiour hath bought so deare. Let mee consecrate my soule and body wholly to him, for they are [Page 368] his owne, he hath dearely bought them.

Direct my spirit, oh Lord, by the leuell of thy perfect word: let the meditation of my heart be day and night in thy sacred law, that I may offer vp vnto thee daily the calues of my vnfained lippes, speaking of thy meruailous kindnesse early in the morning, and telling of thy manifold mercies late in the eue­ning: send downe a gratious raine of thy holy Spirit into the fur­rowes of my heart, that the me­mory of thine innumerable bene­fits, may perpetually flourish in my minde, and thine euerlasting praises euermore sound in my mouth, for thou alone art my Redeemer, oh Lord God of my saluation.

A Meditation how CHRIST gaue vp the Ghost, and of the won­ders which were seene at his death. MED. XIX.

LIft vp thine eyes, oh my soule, and behold how the counte­nance of thy Sauiour is couered with a deadly palenesse, his sight beginneth to faile, and his heart to faint, yet a little before the de­parture of his soule, and in his greatest pangs, hee cryed out with a lowd voyce, as if he had felt no paine, saying: Father, into thy hands [Page 370] I commend my spirit: and vvhen he had said thus, bowing downe his head, and closing his eyes, he gaue vp the Ghost, Luke 23.46. Now so soone as his blessed soule was dissolued from his breathlesse bo­dy, the vaile of the Temple vvas rent into two peeces from the top the bottome, the earth did quake, the stones were rent, the graues opened, and many bodies of the Saints, which slept, arose out of their graues, came into the holy Citie, and appeared to many.

Awake thou now oh my soule, lie no longer snorting in the bed of carelesse security: vvhat wilt thou say? what wilt thou doe, oh my soule?

Thou seest that the earth trem­bleth, & quaketh, that the stones doe cleaue in pieces, and that the beholders are all amazed at the death of the Lord Iesus.

Oh! why art thou so senselesse [Page 371] oh my soule, and as it were dead without motion at the recordati­on of the death, and meditation of the Passion of thy Sauiour? Oh let the sinnefull vaile of the Tem­ples of thy head rend into peeces, which couereth the eyes of thy vnderstanding! let thy earthly body tremble with horror, and thy stony heart cleaue in sunder with terror of thine impietie: and now arise thou out of the graue of thine iniquitie, let thine eyes waste and consume away with weeping, and let thy heart melt away with sighing, that thou mayest shew some signes of sorrow for thy sinnes, and some tokens of true repentance for thy transgressions, which caused the bitter Passion, and procured the cruell death of thy innocent IESVS: and cry out vvith the astonished Centurion, Ʋerely this man was righteous, Hee was the Sonne of GOD, Mat. 17. [Page 372] Lift vp thy hands & crie out with a faithfull heart, Oh my gratious Lord, my sweet Sauiour, and lo­uing Redeemer, how terrible were my trespasses, how haynous were my transgressions, that nothing but thy pretious blood could wash out the staines of mine iniquitie? and nothing but thy death deli­uer me out of the chaines of euer­lasting captiuitie? What shall I doe to gratulate the greatnes of thy loue? how shall I perfectly rellish the goodnesse of thy mer­cy? how shall I throughly tast the sweetnesse of thy compassion? For how doth thy loue exceede in greatnesse? how doth mercy a­bound in goodnes? and how doth thy compassion excel in sweetnes, that thou being the true and natu­rall Sonne of God, shouldst be made man, that we being sinnefull men, should be made the sons of God? yea, when vvee were thine [Page 373] enemies, vessels of sinne, and vas­sals of Sathan? And that thou be­ing man, shouldest be made sub­iect to the same passions, to the same affections, to the same affli­ctions, that we are? yea, obnoxious to death to pay our debt: but yet thy life was neuer infected with a­ny sinfull action: no, not so much as affected with any euill cogita­tion.

Oh my kinde Iesu! Oh thou in­nocent Lambe! Oh my most lo­uing Lord! by how much the more I consider thy calamity, by how much the more I ruminate thy mercy, by so much the more cause I finde to be faithfully affected to­wards thee for the greatnes of thy loue, and to be afflicted with thee for thy grieuous torments. Oh let me behold in my serious medi­tation, and see with the eye of mine vnderstanding, how thy most sacred body is brused vvith [Page 374] cruell blowes, thy tender flesh mangled with bleeding wounds, thy venerable head perfored and pierced with a Crowne of prick­ing thornes, thy beautifull fore­head spotted, and thy comely haire knotted with coniealed blood, thy nosthrils offended vvith stinking spittle, and thy blessed mouth di­stasted with gall and vinegar, thy most bright eyes obscured with a vaile, thy amiable face buffeted with fists, and defiled with dust, thy chast eares filled with reproa­ches, thy naked body scourged with whips, thy vveary shoulders shrinking, and thy weake knees failing vnder the heauy burthen of the crosse, thy most holy hands pierced, & thy blessed feet bored with sharpe iron nailes, thy bles­sed side opened, and thy heart wounded with a speare. Oh let the remembrance of thy grieuous torments my louing Iesu, let the [Page 375] memory of thy bleeding wounds and scornefull reproaches, wound my heart with vvofull compun­ction, and pierce into my harde­ned bowels, that they may relent vvith tender compassion, that I may feele some sense of paine­full sorrow for thy sake, seeing thou hast suffered so much for my sinnes.

But before thou passe any fur­ther, (oh my soule) doe thou not let it passe without earnest medi­tation, how that although the hearts of the tormentors of mine afflicted Iesus, were so poysoned with impietie, and their hands so polluted with cruelty, that they grieued his righteous soule vvith their scornes and reproaches: kil­led his innocent body with their tortures, yet that the fury of their malicious harts was so restrained, and the violence of their cruell hands so repressed, that they [Page 276] could not breake one bone of his blessed body, as they did of the malefactors, which were crucified with him, because the sacred scrip­ture had said they should not, and therefore their hands were fettered that they could not: Exod. 12.46. Num. 9.12. Zach. 12.10. Wherefore let this meditation comfort thy drooping heart (oh my soule) and consolate thy fainting spirits in the sowrest fits of any worldly mi­sery, and in the sorest conflicts of any affliction that can betide thee: that no Tyrant, be hee neuer so mighty, or his heart neuer so mali­cious, can imagine more in his cruell thoughts, or act any more with his bloudy hands against thee, then the Diuine prouidence hath predestinated, and the coun­sell of the highest hath alwayes de­termined.

Let this resolution be as a pre­tious Balme to heale the wounds [Page 377] of thy sorrow, and as a soueraigne Salue to cure thy soares, that they may not fester with dispairefull re­pining, or rancor with impatient mourning.

Let no dread of danger throw downe the Fort of thy hope: let no Tempest of persecution shake the foundation of thy Faith, and let no waues of affliction quench the flame of thy loue towards thy Sauiour, but let the oyle of his suf­ficient grace so strengthen the si­newes of thy Faith, when it wax­eth feeble, that thy heart neuer faile, nor thy courage quaile, when thou art molested with any sicke­nes, or affliction of body, or moued with any malady of thy mind, be­ing faithfully perswaded, that no calamity can betide thee without his will, nor no danger can come neere thy dwelling without his good pleasure: and that no Ty­rants, (although they be neuer so [Page 378] mighty) can do but so much, and no more against thee, then hee in his wisedome knoweth to be pro­fitable for thee.

For neither the prophane Gen­tiles, nor the superstitious Iewes, could doe any more vnto my in­nocent Iesus, then he vvas willing to suffer, who came to die for the sinnes of the people: they could not do one iot more then was en­acted in the highest Court of the Caelestiall Parliament, determined by the secret Counsel of the Trini­ty, & confirmed by the euerlasting Statutes of the sacred Scriptures.

Confirme my mind (oh Lord) with a stedfast perswasion of thy power, and comfort my weake na­ture with a resolute confidence in thy word, that in the time of my aduersitie, and day of my tribulati­on, yea, at the houre of my death, I may commend my spirit into thy hands, as thou didst thine into [Page 379] the hands of thy heauenly Father.

Oh what a consolation & com­fort may it be vnto me in my grea­test misery, to commend my soule into thy custody, for there it shall remain in the safe harbor of eternal tranquility, no more subiect to mi­sery, no more obnoxious to vanity: the ioy that it shall possesse is vn­speakable, the felicitie incompara­ble, the continuance of it neuer de­caying, but alwayes durable with­out any change, or ending.

Receiue my soule (oh my lo­uing Sauiour into thy hands, that it may be safe, vnder the shadowe of thy wings: it is thine owne, it came from thee, and therefore let it returne vnto thee: receiue my gift, my bountifull giuer.

But because (oh Lord) nothing that is impure may appeare in thy sight, neither canst thou behold any vncleane thing with thine eie, purge my soule with the fire of [Page 380] thy spirit, and wash away the spots of it with thy precious bloud, that being beautified with the pure white robe of thy mercy, Reu. 12.18 it may confidently approach vnto the Throne of thy Maiesty.

Oh let the affection of my loue be neuer defectiue towards thee, and infuse that into me, by the gift of thy grace, which I am not able to obtaine by my owne strength, captiuate all my sences, that they may be obsequious to do thy will, and frame all the members of my body, to performe thy law, that being partaker of thy death, by true mortification of my flesh, I may also be made partaker vvith thee of thy glorious Resurrection, by the viuification of thy blessed Spirit.

A Meditation, how the Lord Ie­sus was buried, and of the lamentation of his Mother, and other women, for his death. MED. XX.

AS there was a wicked and co­uetous Iudas, (oh my soule) amongst the faithfull Disciples of thy louing IESVS, to betray him to a cruell death, so there was a kinde Ioseph found among the Iewes, who brought him honou­rably to his graue.

Oh who is able to relate the la­mentation, to expresse the sorrow, and vtter the griefe of the Virgin Marie, mourning for the death of her deare Sonne, and other vvo­men, vvho did behold him vvith their compassionate eyes, vvhen (like an innocent Lambe) he gaue vp the Ghost, and bewailed his de­parture from them, vvith floods of teares!

Now thinke that thou doest heare the Virgine Marie discoue­ring the inward sorrowes of her heart, (of her grieued and woun­ded heart) vttered out of her dole­full mouth, passionate, as she was a tender harted woman, and more compassionate, as shee vvas a lo­uing Mother, vvhen shee saw the vvounded and breathlesse body of her Sonne, taken downe from the Crosse.

Let her sorrowfull words pene­trate thine eares, and pierce thy [Page 383] heart, that thou maist bewaile the debts of thy sinnes, as she lamen­ted the death of her Sonne, in this or the like manner.

Oh my most sweet Sonne, what is my felicity, which I had by thee in thy life? Is it any thing else but extreame miserie at thy death? how is my chiefest ioy changed into sorrow? my mirth into mour­ning? how is my reioycing turned into lamenting, my cheerefulnesse turned into heauinesse? nothing can mittigate my calamity, no­thing can ease my malady.

What hadst thou done (oh my most deare Sonne) what hai­nous crime hadst thou commit­ted? vvhat odious treason hadst thou perpetrated, that thou wert condemned to die such a shame­full and bitter death?

Thy pure hands were neuer de­filed with any euill actions: and thy harmlesse heart did neuer har­bour [Page 384] any vvicked cogitations: thine eyes were neuer bewitched with worldly vanities, nor thine eares delighted with lewd discour­ses: thy mouth did vtter forth wisedome, and thy tongue spake nothing but the truth: thy whole life was a Mirrour of piety, thy words deserued no reprehension, thy deeds were without all excep­tion. Oh how bitter was the ma­lice? how horrible was the enuie? how blinde were the eyes? how bloody were the hearts of the cru­ell Iewes, to crucifie my deare Sonne, my innocent Iesus? how dolefull is it to mine eyes, and do­lorous to my heart, to behold thy bright eyes obscured with deadly darknesse! thy blessed hand de­priued of action, and thy beauti­full feete senslesse vvithout any motion! to see thy cheerefull countenance couered with an ashy palenesse, thy skinne blacke and [Page 385] blew with blowes, and thy flesh mangled with wounds.

This spectacle is so wofull, that I can no longer behold thee with mine eyes, and the waues of sor­row doe ouerflow my heart so fast, that they stop my words, and stay the current of my mournfull speech.

Now as Marie Magdalene did behold the blessed body of my Sa­uiour with his mourning Mother, so she did not cease to lament his death, who had beene so kinde a Master vnto her in his life: What a plentifull streame of teares ran downe her cheekes? What a spring of sorrow arose in her heart? How did her sorrowfull sighes second her heauie sobs? How did her dolefull sobs preuent her lamen­table sighes? Thinke thou doest see her kisse his senslesse hands: thinke thou doest see her kisse his breathlesse feet, speaking vnto her [Page 386] louing Master, with her trembling voice being dead, as if he did heare her, and were aliue, bathing them with her teares, and giuing a little ease to her sore diseased heart, by vttering these or the like words, with her feeble lips.

Mary Mag­dalens la­mentati­on for the losse of her Ma­ster.Alas (my sweet Master) alas my most louing Lord, the staffe of my stay, the onely ioy of my heart, the sole comfort of my perplexed spirit; Alas for me, how comfort­lesse doest thou leaue mee? how sorrowfull shall I bee by being without thee? To whom shall I haue recourse for comfort in the straightnesse of my sorrow? To whom shall I goe for succour in time of my trouble?

How lamentable is the view of thy vvounded head vnto mine eies? How grieuous is the view of thy sacred hands and feet vnto my sight, pierced with iron-nailes and [Page 387] depriued of sense, which I so care­fully annoynted, bathing them with the teares of mine eies, and drying them with the haires of my head? Ioh. 11.2. and 12.3. Mat. 26.7. But now alas, in stead of o­doriferous oyntment, they are mangled with wounds, and spot­ted with blood: Oh wretched woman, oh miserable creature, be­cause I am depriued of such a lo­uing and welbeloued Master.

Where shall I find one who will loue me so deerely, and regard me so entierly? Thou art hee which diddest often vouchsafe to come into my cottage, and to sit downe at my Table, and didst vouchsafe to honour my poore house with thy gratious presence, when alas I was not able to afford thee any such entertainement as might in any sort requite thy kindenesse, or recompence thy loue, Iohn 11.28. Oh my most sweet Iesu, thou [Page 388] didst defend me from the Pharisie who disdained me for my trespas­ses, and loathed me for my sinnes. Thou didst kindely excuse mee, speaking in my cause, and plead­ing my case, when my sister began to be angry with me, and to con­ceiue displeasure against mee: Thou didst commend me when I did annoynt thee with a pretious oyntment, washing thy feete with my teares, and wiping them with my haire, thou didst mittigate my sorrow, thou didst remit my sins, thou didst kindely aske for mee when I was not present with thee, and commanded my sister to call me vnto thee.

Oh what great, and how many demonstrations of thy loue, how many tokens of thy kindnesse, how many signes of thy charity, how many arguments of thy mer­cie, Oh my most sweet Lord, hast thou shewed vnto mee? vvhat a [Page 389] rich treasure of thy bounty, hast thou conferred vpon mee? When thou didst see my mourning for the death of my Brother, thou didst comfort mee in my sorrow, thou didst asswage my griefe, thou didst weepe with me, such was thy kinde affection towards my lo­uing brother, such was thy tender compassion towards mee his sor­rowfull sister: and thou didst not onely shed teares, as signes of thy loue, but thou didst raise my dead brother out of his graue for my consolation, and restored him to life againe for my comfort: Iohn. 11.35. Ibidem, 43. As nothing was more sweet and pleasant vnto me, then to enioy thy blessed compa­ny, so nothing can be more sowre and sharpe vnto me, then want of thy comfortable societie.

But alas, sorrowfull words are too weake a medicine to cure my maladie: and although I haue [Page 390] cause to say much, yet extreamity of griefe vvill suffer mee to say no more.

Now thou hast heard oh my soule, the lamentation of a tender Mother, deploring the death of her Sonne, and also the pittifull mourning of a faithfull seruant, bewayling the want of him, who was her louing Master, and boun­tifull benefactor: canst thou be so stonie-hearted, that thou art mo­ued with no feeling compassion? Is thy heart so hard that it cannot giue a groane? Are thine eyes so dry, that they vvill not yeeld a teare, at the meditation of the death and buriall of thy Sauiour, who died for thy sinnes, and was slaine for thine iniquities?

I flie vnto thee my most merci­full Lord, that thou maist mollifie and moysten, my hard, and dry heart with plentifull showres of thy graces: turne my head into a [Page 391] spring of water, and change mine eyes into a fountaine of teares.

I know not how to excuse my selfe, because I haue beene so vn­thankfull for thy benefits, so for­getfull of thy mercies, and so vn­kinde vnto thee for thy loue.

What shall I say, but woe and alas for me, a most wretched and wicked sinner? Who can measure the quantity of mine infelicitie? Who can describe the horrour of my miserie? Who can quiet the troubles of my minde? Who can pacifie my troubled conscience, because my hard heart hath not beene touched with any compun­ction, nor my bowels moued with any compassion, when I did think on thy cruell death, and meditate on thy bitter Passion?

Oh wretched man that I am! oh miserable creature! for when others doe mourne at the medi­tation of thy Passion, shed teares, [Page 392] and send forth sighes at the re­membrance of thy death: my hart is so ouer-growne with hard­nesse, that it cannot be touched with sorrow, and mine eyes are so dry without moisture, that they vvill not send forth a teare. Oh why doe I not sigh, sob, and weepe in my Meditation of the bitter Passion of my Sauiour, my grati­ous and bountifull benefactor, who did abide so many painefull torments and reproachfull taunts for my sinnes, and suffered a most shamefull and cruell death on the Crosse for my transgressions? How can I excuse the coldnesse of my loue? How should I cleare my vn­thankfull minde? If Death take away my Father, or depriue me of my Mother, I water my cheekes vvith teares, and vvearie my heart vvith groaning. I can weepe for the death of a Brother, and wring my hands for sorrow at the buriall [Page 393] of my sister: I cannot but mourne when I follow my friend to his graue, my teares doe testifie my loue, my voyce doth vtter words of lamentation, my heart is sadde with sorrow, and all my sences are disordered with griefe.

But alas, how is the moisture of mine eyes consumed, that they cannot yeeld one teare? How ob­durate is my heart that it will not groane when I think on the dead­ly pangs of my Sauiour, and when I meditate on the grieuous passi­on, and bitter death of my Re­deemer, who hath beene more beneficiall vnto mee then any lo­uing Father! and more kinde then any tender-hearted mother: what kindnesse of a Brother, or milde affection of a Sister, can e­quall his loue? What friend can be so glad for my prosperitie? who of mine acquaintance can be so sad for my aduersitie? Who can [Page 394] be so constant vnto me in affecti­on? Who can be so faithfull vnto me in compassion, as my merci­full Sauiour? My Parents gaue me my flesh, polluted with sinne, and defiled with vices: I receiue from my Sauiour, Memory, Will Vnderstanding, and Reason: yea, what is there in me which is good, but it commeth from my GOD? My Parents haue beene an occa­sion to throw me downe into hell, but my Redeemer did shed his pre­tious bloud to bring mee into the Kingdome of heauen: Therefore why doe I not sigh and lament for the death of my Lord, my Sa­uiour, my Redeemer, who is my solace in time of sorrow, my con­solation in my misery, and my re­fuge in the houre of my necessity? But oh my most bountifull Iesu, father of mercies, I mourne with sorrow, and lament with teares, when death doth rob mee of my [...] [Page 415] receiue them to dwell in thy Cae­lestiall Citie, which is stored with all abundance: But who can des­cribe the beauty, or demonstrate the glory of this heauenly Hieru­salem? for it is made of pure golde, the foundation of pretious stones, the walles of Iasper, & the gates of pearle. In needeth no Sunne to giue light vnto it in the day, or any Moone by night, for the glorious presence of the Lord doth fill euery place with his shining brighssetne. Reuel. 21.18.19.20.21.23.

What eye hath seene one sparke of the glistering cleerenesse? what eare hath heard one title of the greatnesse? what heart can con­ceiue so much as a graine of the goodnes of this eternall Citie? Oh happy are the people that shall enter into thy beautifull gates! Oh happy are the Citizens that shall dwell within thy pretious walles! for they shall liue with the An­gels [Page 416] in eternall peace and security, and see God in his glorious Maie­stie. Entertaine me (oh Lord) into thy gratious seruice, and graunt me grace, that I may serue thee all the dayes of my life in feare, and honour thee with my loue: that when I haue serued out my time as thy faithfull seruant here on earth, I may be incorporated into this heauenly Citie, and admitted into the freedome of this blessed societie. Come (oh my Lord IESV) come vnto vs quickly, and receiue vs to dwell with thee eternally, Amen.

MOTIVE. I.

MAny knowe many things,False know­ledge. and know not themselues: they pry into others, and leaue themselues.The ready way how to know God. They seeke God by those outward things, forsaking their inward things, to vvhich God is neerer, and more inward. Therefore I vvill returne from outward things, to inward, and from the inward I will ascend to the Superiour: that I may know from vvhence I come, or [Page 2] whither I goe; who I am, and from whence I am: that so by the knowledge of my selfe, I may be the better able to attaine to the knowledge of God. For by how much more I profit, and goe for­ward in the knowledge of my selfe, by so much the neerer I ap­proach to the knowledge of God. Concerning the inward man,Three things in vs, where­by wee re­member, behold, and desire God. I finde three things in my soule, by which I remember, behold, and couet God. But these three things are, the Memory, Ʋnderstanding, Will, or Loue. By the Memory, I remember him: by the Ʋnder­standing, I behold him: by the Will, I imbrace him. When I re­member God in my Memory, I finde him: and in him I am de­lighted, because hee vouchsafeth to giue himselfe to mee. By the Vnderstanding, I view and con­template what God is in himselfe, what hee is in the Angels, what [Page 3] he is in the Saints, what hee is in Men, what he is in the Creatures. In himselfe, hee is incomprehen­sible, because he is the beginning and end, and the beginning with­out beginning, the end without end. By my selfe, I vnderstand how incomprehensible God is, when as I cannot know, and vn­derstand my selfe, whom he hath made. In the Angels he is desi­rable, because they desire to be­hold him. In the Saints hee is delectable, because being happy in him, they reioyce continually, in other creatures hee is admira­ble, because he createth all things powerfully; gouerneth all things wisely, disposeth all things bountifully. In men hee is ami­able, because he is their GOD, and they are his people. Hee dwelleth in them, euen as in his Temple, and they are his Tem­ple. Hee disdaineth neyther [Page 4] particular, nor vniuersall. Who­soeuer is mindefull of him, and doth both know, and also loue him,Motiues to moue vs to loue God. hee is vvith him. Wee ought to loue him, because hee hath first loued vs, and hath made vs after his Image and si­militude, which thing he would not impart to any other creature. Wee are made according to the Image of GOD, that is, accor­ding to the vnderstanding, and knowledge of the Sonne, by whom we vnderstand, and know the Father, and haue accesse vnto him.

So great is the affinitie be­tweene vs and the Sonne of God, as that wee are the image of him, who is the image of God. Which affinitie also, the similitude doth testifie: because wee are not one­ly made according to his simili­tude, but also to his likenesse. Therefore it behoueth, that that [Page 5] which is made according to his image, doe agree vvith his I­mage, and not participate one­ly a vaine name of the Image. In vvhich regard, let vs repre­sent, and expresse his Image in our selues, in the feruent desire of peace, in the beholding of truth, and in the loue of Cha­ritie.

Let vs holde him in our me­morie, let vs carrie him in our conscience, and let vs adore and vvorship him euery where, vvho is present euery where. For our vnderstanding in that same re­spect, is the image of him, in which it is capable of him, and may bee partaker of the same. The minde (or soule) is not ther­fore the Image of him, because the minde remembreth it selfe,How the soule is sayd to be the Image of God. vnderstandeth and loueth it selfe: but because it may be able to remember, vnderstand, and [Page 6] loue him, of whom it was made. The which when it doth it be­commeth vvise.

The three faculties of the soule, to wit, Me­mory, Will and Vn­derstan­ding: re­sembling the Trini­tie.For nothing is more like to that most excellent and highest Wisedome, then a reasonable Soule, which through Memory, Vnderstanding, and Will, consi­steth in that vnutterable Trini­tie.

But it cannot consist and a­bide in the same, vnlesse it remem­ber, vnderstand, and loue the same. Let it therefore remember her God, loue and worship him, after whose Image it was made, with whom it may alwayes bee blessed. Oh blessed Soule, with vvhom GOD hath found rest, in vvhose Tabernacle hee dwelleth and remaineth:How the soule is said to be truly blessed. Blessed, which may say, and hee which created mee, resteth in my Taber­nacle: For hee cannot denie the rest of HEAVEN vnto her. [Page 7] Therefore why doe wee forsake our selues and seeke God in these externall and outward things, who is at home with vs, if vvee will be with him?

Verely hee with vs, and in vs, but as yet by faith, vntill vvee shall see him face to face. Wee know (saith the Apostle) that Christ dwelleth in our hearts by faith. How God dwelleth in vs. Because Christ is in our Faith, Faith in our Vnderstanding, our Vnderstanding in the heart, the heart in our breast.

Through Faith I call God to minde (as a Creator) I adore him as a Redeemer, I attend and wait for him as a Sauiour, I belieue to behold him in all his Creatures, to haue him in my selfe, and that which is more pleasant, and bles­sed then all these (vnspeakeable) to know him in himselfe.What life euerlasting is. For to know the Father, Sonne, and the holy Ghost, is life Euerlasting, [Page 8] perfect blessednesse,What life euerla­sting is. chiefest plea­sure.

The eye hath not seene, the eare hath not heard, neither hath it entred into the heart of man, what great loue, what great sweetnesse, and what great plea­santnesse doth remaine vnto vs by that vision, when we shall see God face to face. Which is the light of those which doe inligh­ten, rest to the labouring, a Coun­trey to them that returne from exile, life to the liuing, a Crowne to the conquering. Therefore in my vnderstanding, I finde the Image of that most high and su­preame Trinitie: to the vvhich most supreme Trinitie alwayes to be remembred, looked vpon, and to be loued, that I may remem­ber it, be delighted with it, em­brace and view it, I must referre and employ that time which I liue.

The minde is the Image of GOD,The facul­ties of the soule re­sembled to the Father, the Sonne, & the ho­ly Ghost. in vvhich are these three things, Memory, Ʋnderstanding, and Will, or Loue. VVee attri­bute to the Memory, all vvhich vvee know, although we thinke not of it. Wee attribute to the Ʋnderstanding, all vvhich vvee finde to bee true in thinking, vvhich wee also commit vnto Memory.

By Memory, vvee are like to the Father, by Ʋnderstanding to the Sonne, by Will to the holy Ghost. Nothing in vs is so like to him, as Will, Loue, or Charitie, which is a more excellent vvill. For Loue or Charitie, is the gift of God.

So that no gift of GOD, is more excellent then this: For the loue which is of GOD, and which is also GOD, is called properly the holy Spirit, by whom the loue of God is disfused [Page 10] in our harts, by whom the whole Trinitie doth inhabite and dwell in vs.

Of the miserie of Man, and the examination of the last Iudge­ment. MOTIVE. II.

COncerning the outward man, I proceed from those parents, which made mee to be worthy of damnation before I was borne. Sinners begot a sin­ner, and nourished mee with sinne: the miserable brought a miserable creature into the mise­rie of the light. I haue nothing from them but misery, sinne, and this corruptible body which I carry about mee. And I hasten to goe to them, which through the death of the body, are de­parted from hence. When I [Page 11] looke vpon their Graues and Se­pulchers, I finde nothing in them but ashes, vvormes, stincke, and loathsomnesse. What I am, they haue beene, and what they are, I shall be.

What am I? Man, proceeding from a liquid humour: For in a moment of conception I was conceiued of humane seed, after­ward, that froth congealed, in­creasing a little, was made flesh,Mans cor­ruption. and afterward crying and lamen­ting, I was deliuered to the banish­ment of this World: and behold, now I die, full of iniquities and abhominations. Now, euen, now I shall appeare before a seuere and strict Iudge, to render an ac­count of my workes. VVoe bee to mee miserable vvretch, when that day of Iudgement shall come: and the Bookes shall bee opened, in vvhich all my actions, and cogitations shall [Page 12] be recited, in the presence of the Lord.

Then hanging downe my head, with confusion of an euill conscience, I shall stand in iudge­ment before the LORD, trem­bling and sorrowfull, to vvit, reckoning vp my wicked deeds which I haue committed:The con­science of the wic­ked shall be their owne ac­cuser. and when it shall be sayd of mee, be­hold the man, and his vvorkes: then I shall reduce and bring a­gaine before mine eyes all my sinnes, and offences. For it shall be brought to passe, by a certaine diuine power, that good and euil works shal be recalled to the remembraunce of euery one, and shall be seene in the view of the minde, with a wonderfull speede and celeritie: that the knowledge of them may accuse, or excuse the conscience; and that so both euery man seuerally and generally, may be iudged to­gether. [Page 13] Euery man shall be iud­ged for his deeds. And all the secrets of all men shall appeare and lie open vnto all. For that which wee are ashamed,At the day of iudge­ment, all things shal be made manifest. and blush at to confesse now, shall then be manifest and apparant to all. And there the reuenging and deuouring fire shall burne and consume whatsoeuer heere wee cloake and flatter by dissem­bling. The swift fire shall rage, and raigne euery where, ha­uing gotten free scope and li­bertie.

And by how much the lon­ger the Lord doth waite, and tar­ry for our amendement; so much the more strictly hee will iudge vs, if vvee shall abuse and neglect his patience.

Why therefore doe vvee so earnestly couet this life, in which the longer wee liue, the more we sinne? For by how much the [Page 14] more the dayes of our life are lengthened,Nothing more mu­table then humane condition. by so much the more our faults and transgressions are augmented. For euill things do daily increase, but good things decay and are diminished; Mans state doth neuer stand at a stay, but is continually chaunged by prosperity and aduersitie, and hee knoweth not when he shall die.

For as a blazing starre in the skie runneth swiftly, and vani­sheth away suddenly;The short­nesse of mans life shadowed out by a double si­militude. or as a sparkle of fire is suddenly extin­guished, and turned into ashes: so wee may see this life quickely ended, and suddenly consumed. For while man tarrieth willingly, and liueth most pleasantly in this World, and supposeth that hee shall liue long, and purposeth many things to be done in long time, hee is suddenly snatched [Page 15] away by death, and the Soule is taken from the body, before hee beware of it. Yet the soule is separated with great feare, much paine, and bitter griefe from the body. For the Angels come to take her, that they may bring her before the Tribunall seat of a most fearefull Iudge; then shee calling to minde her euill and most wicked workes, which shee hath done day and night, trembleth, and seeketh to shunne and auoyd them, and to desire a truce of them, saying; Graunt me the space, yea but of one houre.

Then her workes, as it vvere,Our works will follow vs to iudge­ment. speaking together, shall answere, and say; Thou hast made vs, wee are thy workes, wee vvill goe forward with thee to iudge­ment. Vices also shall accuse her with many and manifolde crimes, and shall bring many [Page 22] false testimonies against her, al­though one sufficeth to her dam­nation. The Deuils also shall terrifie her, vvith their gastly countenance and horrible aspect they shall persecute her, and take holde of her, as terribly, so also horribly, desirous to re­teine her, vnlesse there be one vvho can deliuer her from them.

Then the Soule, finding the eyes shut, the mouth, and o­ther sences of the body, by which shee was wont to haue passage, and to bee delighted in these outward things closed,The state of a dam­ned soule. shall returne to her selfe, and see­ing her selfe alone, and naked, stricken vvith exceeding hor­rour, shee shall faint in her selfe, and fall downe vvith despera­tion.

And because for the loue of the world, and pleasure of the [Page 23] flesh, shee forsooke the loue of God, shee wretched shall be quite forsaken in the houre of such great necessitie, and shall be deli­uered to the Deuils to be tormen­ted in Hell: So the soule of a sin­ner, in the day wherein hee is ig­norant, and houre in which hee knoweth not, is snatched away of death, and is separated from the body, and proceedeth forward full of miseries, trembling and sorrowing; and when shee hath no excuse, which shee may al­ledge for her sinne, shee fain­teth, and faileth with dreadfull feare, to appeare before GOD; shee is shaken, and quaketh with exceeding horrour, and is tossed and troubled with manifold tem­pests of perplexed thoughts, and dispairefull cogitations; the dis­solution and separation of the flesh grieuing her, and all being remoued out of her sight, shee [Page 18] considereth her selfe, and that time to which shee approacheth, and after a little while, she findeth in that, that which can neuer be altered nor reuersed. Shee con­sidereth throughly how seuere the eternall Iudge commeth, and what straight accounts she must make before the seueritie of such great Iustice.

For although shee haue esca­ped all the vvorkes vvhich shee could vnderstand, yet for all that, comming before a strict and seuere Iudge, shee drea­deth those more, which shee vn­derstandeth not in her selfe. Feare increaseth, when shee thin­keth she could not passe through the way of this life vvithout a fault, neither that time, which shee hath liued commendably is without offence, if it be iudged, pitty and mercy excluded. For who is able to consider how [Page 19] many, and how great euils vvee commit in moments of times,Sinnes are of two sorts of commis­sion and omission. and what great good things wee neg­lect to doe? For as the commissi­on of an euill thing is sinne, so the omission of a good thing is an of­fence.

For great is the losse and dam­mage, when wee neither doe, nor thinke good things, but suffer our heart to wander & stagger abroad, through vaine and vnprofitable things.

Neuerthelesse, it is a very hard and difficult thing to bridle the heart, and keepe it from an vnlaw­full cogitation. Also it is a thing ouer-hard, to execute earthly af­faires without sinne. Wherefore no man can perfectly compre­hend and discerne himselfe. But being busied & toyled with many thoughts, and cogitations, he re­mayneth in some measure vn­knowne vnto himselfe, that hee [Page 20] knoweth not all those things which he tollerateth.Why man is at his death fear­full. Wherefore, his departure out of the world be­ing instant, and pressing him, hee is terrified with a more exact feare: because, although he remembreth that hee hath not omitted those things which he knew, yet he drea­deth those things which he know­eth not.

Of the dignitie of the Soule. MOTIVE. III.

OH Soule, sealed with the Image of God, adorned with his similitude,Excellency of the Soule. betrothed to him by Faith, endowed with the Spirit, re­deemed by bloud, associated with Angels, capable of Beatitude, heire of Goodnesse, partaker of Reason, what hast thou to doe with the flesh, of whom thou sufferest so many euils?

Because of the flesh, the sinnes of another are imputed to thee, and thy vertues repu­ted as a stained and filthy clout, and thou thy selfe art brought to nothing, and reputed as no­thing. The flesh is no other thing, vvith vvhich thou hast so great societie, but a fome, be­come flesh, clothed with beautie, fraile, and euery moment decay­ing. But it shall be truely, it shall be a miserable and rotten car­kasse, and meate for the vvormes. For how much soeuer it be dec­ked and adorned, it is alwayes flesh.

If thou doest consider, vvhat issueth out by the mouth, no­sthrils, and other passages of the body, thou shalt neuer see a more filthy dunghill. If thou vvilt reckon vp all her miseries, thou shalt finde how shee is fraugh­ted and laden vvith sinnes, [Page 22] prouoked with vices, itching with concupiscences, possessed vvith passions, polluted with illusions, alwayes prone vnto euill, and ben­ding towards all kinde of vices, full of all confusion and ignomi­nie. By the flesh, man is made like vnto vanitie, because from it he hath drawne the vice of lustfull concupiscence, by which hee is held captiue, and abased, that hee loueth vanitie, and worketh ini­quitie.

Consider oh man, what thou art from the first beginning,The be­ginning of a proud man. and day of thy birth, vnto thy latter end, and day of thy death, and what thou shalt be after this life.

Truely, thou hast beene that which in time afore thou wert not, afterwards made of base mat­ter, & wrapped in a homely cloth, thou wast nourished with vnclean bloud in thy mothers wombe, and a thin skin was thy best Garment, [Page 23] thou camest vnto vs, being so clo­thed and attyred, neither art thou mindfull of thy base, vile, and con­temptible beginning: beauty, fa­uour of the people, youthfull heat and riches, haue stolne from thee the knowledge to know what man is.Mans vile­nesse. For man is no other thing but corrupt seed, a vessell of vn­cleannesse, and meate for the Wormes. After hee is a man, hee becommeth a Worme, after the worme, commeth stinke and loth­somnesse: So euery man, is turned into no man. Wherefore is man proud, whose conception is sinne, whose birth is punishment, whose life is a turmoyling labour, and death an ineuitable necessity? Why therefore art thou proud, oh man? Consider what thou wert in thy Mothers wombe,Meanes to pull down pride, to humble vs. how afterwards thou wert exposed and obiected to the miseries of this life, and to sin: and after that to become a worm, [Page 24] a d wormes meat in the graue? Why art thou proud, dust and ashes, whose conception is sinne­full, whose birth is misery, life a punishment, and death, anguish and calamity? Wherefore doest thou feed, and pamper thy belly with delicate meate, and decke thy backe with sumptuous clothes, vvhich vvithin few dayes after, the vvormes shall deuoure in the graue? But thou dost not adorne thy soule with good workes, which is to bee presented vnto God, and his Angels in Heauen. Why doest thou basely esteeme thy Soule, and preferre the flesh before her? That the Mistrisse should vvaite and play the Mayd, and the Mayde beare all the sway, like the Mistrisse, is a great abuse. The vvhole world verily cannot counteruaile the price and value of one soule. There­fore the price of the Soule is farre [Page 25] deerer, and is at an higher rate, vvhich could not bee redee­med but vvith the bloud of CHRIST.

What wilt thou giue for ex­change to redeeme thy soule, which doest giue her for nothing? Did not the Sonne of GOD,The soule of man in­valuable. when hee was in the bosome of his Father, descend from his roy­all Throne for her, that hee might deliuer her from the power of the Deuill? The vvhich when hee saw fettered with the ropes and chaynes of Sinnes, and forth­with to bee deliuered to the De­uils, that shee might bee dam­ned to perpetuall death, hee vvept ouer her, vvhich knew not to vveepe for her selfe. Nei­ther did hee onely vveepe, but suffered himselfe to bee slaine, that hee might redeeme her vvith the precious price of his bloud.

Behold oh mortall man, for whom such a Sacrifice is giuen. Acknowledge (oh man) how no­ble thy Soule is, and how grieuous her wounds were, for whom there was such necessitie, that the Lord Christ should be wounded. If her wounds had not beene to death,The hay­nousnesse of sinne. and to euerlasting death, the Son of God would neuer haue dyed to haue cured them.

Doe not therefore carelesly e­steeme the passion of thy soule, to whom thou seest such great com­passion to be yeelded, from such a great Maiesty. He powreth forth teares for thee, wash thou also e­uery night thy bedde with com­punction of thy heart, and con­tinuall streames of thy teares. Hee powred forth his bloud for thee, shed thou also thine, rather then for any worldly affliction to start from thy Christian profession.

Doe not regard what the flesh [Page 27] will, but what the spirit may: then shall the soule be glorious, vvhen she shal returne to her God. Yet so, if she shall carry no sinne with her from the body, and shall wipe a­way all filthinesse. But if thou say, this is a hard saying, I cannot de­spise the World, and hate my flesh. Tell mee, where are the louers of the world, which were with vs a little while agoe?Motions to despise the flesh. Nothing remai­neth of them, but ashes & worms: marke diligently what they are, and what they haue beene.

They haue beene men, as thou art, they haue eat, drunke, laughed, and spent their dayes in prosperi­tie, and in a moment are gone downe all to the Graue, many to Hell. Heere their flesh is bequea­thed to the wormes, and there their Soule to the fire: vntill they two being bound againe with an vnhappy coniunction, be ouer­whelmed in euerlasting flames, [Page 28] which were before companions together in vices. For one pu­nishment doth entangle them in the end, whom before one loue had bound together in a wicked deed. What hath vaine-glory a­uailed them, their short ioy, worldly power and authoritie, the pleasure of the flesh, deceitfull riches, their great householde, and euill concupiscence? Where is their laughter? Where is their boasting? Where is their pride and arrogancie? Of such great mirth, what great mourning? After so little pleasure, how grie­uous miserie? They are fallen from that exceeding reioycing, into great miserie, into great ruine and grieuous torments. VVhatsoeuer is happened to them,A good catuion. may happen to thee, be­cause thou art a man of the same earth, slime of the same slime.

Thou art from the earth, thou liuest of the earth, and thou shalt returne into the earth. When that last day shall come, vvhich will come suddenly, peraduen­ture it shall be to day.The cer­taintie and vncertain­tie of death. It is cer­taine that thou shalt die, but it is vncertaine when, or how, or where, because death doth al­wayes attend and waite vpon thee euery vvhere. Thou also, if thou wilt bee vvise,Those which ful­fill the lusts of the flesh, must bee puni­shed with the flesh. shalt looke for death euery where. If thou wilt follow the flesh, thou shalt bee punished in the flesh: if thou art delighted vvith the flesh, thou shalt bee tormented in the flesh.

If thou shalt require fine and costly apparell, in stead of thy braue garments, the Wormes shall be spread vnder thee, and the Wormes shall be thy couering. For the Iustice of God can iudge and determine no other thing, but [Page 30] that which our works do deserue. For hee which loueth the world more then God, a place of plea­sure,The marks of a wic­ked world­ling. more then the House of Pray­er; gluttony more then absti­nency; letchery more then cha­stity; followeth the Deuill, and shall goe with him to euerlasting punishment.

What mourning do you thinke there shall be then? what lamen­tation, what sorrow and sadnesse, when the wicked shal be separated from the fellowship of the righte­ous, and from the sight of God, and shall be deliuered into the power of the Deuils, and shall goe with them into euerlasting fire, and shall be there with them al­wayes without end, in perpetuall mourning and lamentation? Be­cause being banished farre from the blessed Countrey of Paradise, they shall be tormented in the place of neuer-ceasing torments, [Page 31] neuer to see the light any more, neuer to obtaine any releasement, or refreshing: but by thousands of thousands of yeeres to be tormen­ted in Hell, neuer to be deliuered from thence: where the tormen­tors are neuer tyred nor wearied: neither hee vvhich is tormented euer dyeth. For the fire there so consumeth, that it alwaies preser­ueth. The torments are so acted, that they are alwaies renewed.The qua­lity of the paine shall be fitted to the quality of the of­fence. But euery one shall endure paine of torment, according to the quality of the fault and they that are guil­ty of the same sinne, shall be sor­ted and ioyned to their like, to be tormented. No other thing shall be heard there, but weeping and mourning, groaning and how­ling, lamentation, and gnashing of teeth. And nothing shall be seene there, but Wormes, and the terrible faces of the tormentors, and most hidious monsters of the [Page 32] Diuels. Cruell Wormes shall bite the innermost parts of the heart, heere shall be paine, there feares, sighing, astonishment, and horri­ble terrour. And they being mi­serable and wretched, shall burne in euerlasting fire for euer;The con­dition of the dam­ned after death of the body. and besides, they shall be tormented in the flesh by fire, in the spirit by the Worme of conscience, there shall be intollerable griefe, horri­ble feare, incomparable stinke, death both of soule and body, without hope of pardon or mer­cie. Neuerthelesse, they shall so dye, as they may alwayes liue, and shall so liue, as they may al­waies die.The diffe­rence of a repenting and an ob­stinate sin­ner. So the soule of a sin­ner is tormented in hell for his sinnes, or being conuerted from her sinnes, is placed in Para­dise.

Now therefore let vs choose one of the two, either alwaies to be tormented vvith the vvicked, [Page 33] or to liue in ioy with the righte­ous. For good and euill, life and death, are set before vs, that vvee may put forth our hand to which vvee vvill. If torments cannot terrifie vs, at least let rewards al­lure vs.

Of the reward of the heauenly Coun­trey, the which all Christians ought to endeauour to obtaine. MOTIVE. IIII.

IT is a reward to see God, to liue with God, to liue of God, to be with GOD, to be in God, vvhich vvill be all things in all: To haue GOD, vvhich is the chiefest good; where the chiefest good is, there is the chiefest fe­licitie, chiefest pleasure, true li­bertie, perfect charitie, eternall securitie, and secure eternitie: [Page 34] there is true ioy, full knowledge, all beauty, and all beatitude. There is peace, pietie, goodnesse, light, vertue, honesty, ioyes, mirth, sweetnesse, euerlasting life, glory, praise, rest, loue, and sweet con­cord.The ex­ceeding ioyes of the righ­teous. So the man shall be blessed with GOD, in whose conscience sinne hath not beene found.

Hee shall see God at his desire, he shall haue him at his pleasure, hee shall enioy him to his euerla­sting delight.

He shall flourish in eternity, hee shall be glorious in truth, hee shall shine in glory, he shall reioyce in goodnesse, so hee shall haue eter­nity of continuance, so hee shall haue facilitie of knowledge and wisedome, and felicity of rest and quietnesse. For he shall be a Citi­zen of that Holy Citie, of which the Citizens are Angels, God the Father the Temple, his Sonne the glorie and brightnesse, the [Page 35] Holy Ghost the loue and cha­rity.

Oh heauenly Citie,A descrip­tion of the celestiall Citie. secure Man­sion, fertile and ample Countrey, thou containest all which deligh­teth, the people liue vvithout mourning, the Inhabitants are quiet and peaceable persons, ha­uing no want, or necessity: How glorious things are spoken of thee, oh Citie of God! So that the Habitation of all vvhich re­ioyce, is in thee. All reioyce with mirth, and exceeding ioy: All are delighted and made ioyfull by God: vvhose lookes are beauti­full, face faire and comely, speech sweet, and delectable: hee is de­lightfull to be seene, pleasant to be drunke, sweet to be enioyed: He pleaseth by himselfe alone, he both sufficeth of himselfe for de­sert, and also sufficeth of himselfe for reward: neither is any thing sought without him, because it is [Page 36] wholly found in him, whatsoeuer is desired.

I [...] God is all good.It is alwaies pleasing and de­lightfull to behold him, alwaies to be delighted in him, and al­waies to enioy him. In him the vnderstanding is clarified, and the affection is purified, to know and loue the truth. And this is the sole and whole good of man: namely, to know and loue his Creator. Therefore vvhat madnesse of vi­ces doth moue vs, to thirst after the bitter Wormewood of this World, to follow the shipwracke of this sliding life? To suffer ca­lamitie, to endure the Domini­on of a vvicked Tirannie: and not rather to flye and flocke to­gether to the felicitie of the Saints, to the societie of the Angels, to the solemnitie of su­pernall and heauenly ioy, and to the pleasantnesse of a con­templatiue life, that vvee may [Page 37] enter into the Dominions of the LORD, and see the super­aboundant riches of his good­nesse.

There we shall be freed from toyling cares, and shall see how sweet the Lord is, and how great the multitude is of his exceeding sweetnesse. We shall see the beau­tie of his glorie,The hap­py estate of the iust in heauen. the brightnesse of his Saints, and honour of his Royall Maiestie. We shall know the power of the Father, the vvisedome of the Sonne, the most liberall clemencie of the Holy Ghost: and so vvee shall haue knowledge of the most high Tri­nitie.

Now vve see bodies by the bo­die, also we see the Images of bo­dies by the Spirit: but then vvee shall see the Trinitie vvith the pure sight of the minde. Oh hap­pie vision to see God in himselfe, to see him in vs, and to see vs in [Page 38] him. In which vision, with hap­py pleasure, and pleasant happi­nesse, wee shall haue all whatso­euer wee shall desire, desiring no­thing else besides, and wee shall loue vvhatsoeuer wee shall see: blessed with the loue, blessed with the sweetnesse of the loue, and pleasantnesse of the contemplati­on. This shall be the end of that contemplation, this shall be the summe of that felicity. Because the sincere Diuinitie shal be vnder­stood to be in his purity, the in­comprehensible Trinitie shall be comprehended in it.

The Mysteries of the Diuinitie shall be made manifest, God shall be seene, and shall be loued. Also this vision and delight filling and satisfying the whole heart of man, shall be the whole perfection, and summarie consumation of that blessednesse. All shall speake with one tongue and language: there [Page 39] shall be reioycing without weari­somnesse: one affection: Loue eternall. Truth shal appeare open­ly, charity shall fill them immea­surably, and there shall be a per­fect and sound societie of body and soule. The Humanitie being glorified, shall glister like the Sun, the fellowship of the flesh and Spi­rit shall be quiet and peaceable, and there shall be one ioy of men and Angels, one feast, one speech and communication. Loue shall not languish, nor charity melt a­way, all good things being pre­sent. There shall be no affliction of delay, because the blessed pre­sence of the Diuine Maiestie, shall be all things vnto all; and there shall be a common omnipotencie of vvisedome, peace, righteous­nesse, and vnderstanding vnto all. There shall not be a diuersity of tongues in that eternall peace, but a peaceable and tuneable con­cord [Page 40] of manners and affections.

A descrip­tion of perfect peace.In that flood and streame of felicity, aboundant saciety shall co­uet nor desire nothing else: there shall be great happinesse, for there shall be a heaped store of felici­tie, glory euermore encreasing, and ioy superaboundant: but who shall be fit for these things?Who is ca­pable of heauenly happines. Verily, the true Penitent, the good Obedient, the louing Compani­on, and faithfull Seruant. For a true Penitent is alwaies in labour and griefe, hee is grieued vvith things that are past, he laboureth to preuent and auoyde euils to come.What true repentance is. For it is true repentance, without intermission of time, to be grieued for our sinnes and of­fences. And he repenteth truely, vvhich doth so bewaile his tres­passes committed, that hee doth not afterward commit things to be lamented: hee is a scoffer, and not a true Penitent, vvhich doth [Page 41] that still, which hee may repent, and that may grieue him. If therefore thou wilt be a true Pe­nitent, cease from sinne, and offend no more. Because that repentance is vaine, vvhich afterward is stai­ned vvith some ensuing trespasse. Euery good Obedient, A good Obedient. yeeldeth vp his consent and deniall, that he can say, My heart is readie, oh God, My heart is readie. Readie to doe vvhatsoeuer thou hast com­maunded, readie to obey at thy becke. It is prepared to attend vp­on thee, to minister to my Neigh­bours, to keepe and vvatch my selfe, and to rest and dwell in the contemplation of heauenly things.

A louing Companion,A louing Compa­nion. is duti­full and beneficiall to all, burden­some to none. Hee is dutifull to all, because hee is deuout before God, kinde towards his Neigh­bour, sober towards the World, [Page 42] the Seruant of the Lord, the Com­panion of his Neighbour, the Lord of the World. Hee hath things that are aboue him, for his solace; things that are equall to him, for his fellowship; things that are beneath him, for his ser­uice: he is a burthen to none, but reduceth those things which are beneath, to the profit of the meane, and to the honour of the superiour, following superiour things, drawing the inferiour, possessed of the former, possessing the latter: he is a faithfull seruant, in the Meditation and contempla­tion of God, and in the care and custodie of himselfe. Therefore first vse all diligence, to keepe and watch thy selfe, afterward vnder­standing that thou canst not be able to keepe and preserue thee by thy owne industrie, humbly en­treat for the ayde of the Diuine clemencie. Therefore that thou [Page 43] maiest behold the good,Wee must flye vnto GOD in the time of necessi­tie. vvell-pleasing and perfect vvill of thy Creator in thee, faithfully in thy prayers solicite him, that his roy­all Campe of Angels may pitch their Tents round about thee. De­sire zealously the protection of Christ thy Redeemer.

Crie vnto him and say, Behold a poore sinner standeth at thy dore of mercie, open to him that knocketh, open thou oh sweet Sauiour, which hast said, Knocke and it shall be opened: that I may de­clare vnto thee all my miseries and necessities which I suffer. Powre out the secrets of thy heart before him, and craue pardon for thy transgressions, by a sorrowfull and true Confession. Let Iesus Christ keepe the dore of thy heart. For vvhen Iesus Christ keepeth the dore of the heart, and is the Porter, so that all of the Houshold of the heart, enter in and come out [Page 44] by him, Thousands of Angels forth-with are present, reioycing at the gates of the outward sen­ses: so that no Straunger dare breake into those terrible Armies, because of the reuerence and Ma­iestie of the Dore-keeper, and the Watch and Ward of the An­gels.

How a man ought to examine himselfe. MOTIVE. V.

THou being a curious and strict examiner of thy inte­gritie, examine thy life by a dili­gent and daily inquisition. Marke carefully how much thou doest profit and goe forward, or how much thou doest decay, and goe backwards: vvhat thou art in manners, vvhat thou art in affe­ctions; how like thou art to [Page 45] God our Redeemer and Sauiour, or how vnlike; how nigh, or how farre, not by distances of places, but by affections of man­ners.

Endeauour vvith all thy for­ces and all thy industrie to know thy selfe; because thou art much better, and more laudable, if thou know thy selfe, then if thy owne selfe being neglected and not re­garded, thou shouldest know the course of the Starres, the vertue of herbs, the complexions of men, the natures of beasts, and shouldst haue the science and knowledge of all celestial & terrestrial things. Therefore restore thy selfe to thy selfe, and if not alwaies or often, at least sometime. Rule thy af­fections, direct thy actions, and correct thy foote-steppes: let no­thing remaine in thee, vvhich is not rectified vvith necessarie Discipline: place all thy trans­gressions [Page 46] before thy eyes: place thy selfe before thy selfe, as it were before another, and so bewaile thy selfe. Lament thy iniquities and immeasurable sinnes, vvith vvhich thou hast offended thy God, declare vnto him thy mise­ries, shew vnto him the malice of thy aduersaries. And when thou shalt humble thy selfe with teares before him, I pray thee that thou be mindfull of mee.How wee ought to be mind­full one of another in our pray­ers. For I, since the time I haue knowne thee in Christ, doe loue thee, and send vp mention of thee thither, vvhere both an vnlawfull thought doth deserue punishment, and an ho­nest thought is not vnrewarded. For when (like a spirituall Priest) I offer vp the calues of my lippes, and a sorrowfull heart, vpon the Altar of God, I doe remember thee.

Thou also shalt doe the like office for me, if thou wilt loue me, [Page 47] and make me partaker of thy pray­ers: I desire and couet to be pre­sent there vvith thee by remem­brance, when thou powrest forth deuout Prayers before God for thy selfe, thy familiar acquaintance, Parents, and Friends.

Neither meruaile,The iust are all the Image of God. if I haue said, I desire to be present, if thou loue mee; and therefore doest loue me, because I am the Image of God, I am as present to thee, as thou art to thy selfe, for whatso­euer thou art, I am the same sub­stantiall.

For euery reasonable soule is the Image of God: wherefore he which seeketh the Image of God in himselfe, doth as well seeke his Neighbour as himselfe. And hee vvhich shall light vpon it, and finde the same Image by seeking, knoweth the same in euery man. For the sight of the soule is the vnderstanding, therefore if thou [Page 48] seest thy selfe, thou seest mee, be­cause I am no other thing then thou art. And if thou louest the most righteous and great GOD, thou louest me, being the Image of God:The loue toward God, ap­peareth in the loue of our bre­thren. And also I, if I loue God, doe loue thee. And so while wee seeke one thing, and bend and en­cline to one thing, we are alwayes present together, but in GOD, in whom we loue one another.

That a man ought to be diligent and deuout in singing of Psalmes, and in performing other Diuine exer­cises in the Church, or else-where. MOTIVE. VI.

VVHen thou shalt enter in­to the Church to pray, or to sing, leaue the tumultuous, and disquietfull motions of thy vvauering cogitations vvithout [Page 49] dores,Cares of externall things stop the passage of our prayers, that they cannot as­cend into Heauen. and vtterly forget the care of externall things, that thou maiest be at leasure to God alone. For it cannot be, that hee can talke with God at any time, which holding his peace, doeth also prattle to the vvhole World. Be therefore earnest and deuout to­wards him, which is earnest and intentiue towards thee, heare him speaking to thee, that hee may heare thee speaking to him. And this shall be effected, if thou shalt bee present at the performing of Diuine praises, and holy exerci­ses, vvith due reuerence, and dili­gent carefulnes, and attend to the diuine Scripture. I do not say that I can doe these things, but that I would, and it repenteth mee, that I haue not done them, & it doth not grieue me to doe them. But thou, to vvhom greater grace is gran­ted, by vowes and deuout prayers, turne the kind eares of the Lord to [Page 50] thee, with thy teares and sighes, and entreate him gently, for thy grieuous transgressions, and with spirituall songs, laud, and glorifie him in his workes.

For the heauenly Citizens are delighted in nothing so much as to behold it, nothing can be per­formed more pleasant & delight­full to the King of Kings, as hee doth testifie: The Sacrifice of praise shall honour me.

A Consort of heauen­ly Musick.Oh how happy shouldest thou be, if thou mightest once behold with spirituall eyes, how the Prin­ces goe before, ioyned to the Sing­ers, in the middest of the Damo­sels, playing on the Timbrels. Thou shouldest see vvithout doubt, with what care, with what dancing and reioycing, they are present among the Singers: with vvhat care and dancing they are present to them which are silent, to them vvhich meditate; They [Page 50] are present with them which are silent, they rule ouer them which prouide and gouerne all things in order.Angels re­ioyce for the saluati­on of men. For the supernall powers doe loue their fellow-Citizens, and they all doe seriously reioyce together for them, which receiue the inheritance of saluation: they comfort, furnish, defend, and pro­uide for all. For they desire our comming, because they expect the ruines of their Citie shall be thereby repaired. They diligent­ly enquire, and vvillingly heare good things of the good; they run carefully too & fro, in the midst of vs, betweene God and vs, carrying our sighes and groanes to him most faithfully, bringing backe a­gaine to vs, his grace and fauour most deuoutly. They will not dis­dain to be our companions, which are made our seruants, wee make them to triumph with ioy, when we are conuerted to repentance.

Therefore let vs make hast to fulfill their ioy by vs. Woe vnto thee, whosoeuer thou art, vvhich doest desire to goe againe to thy vomit, and to returne to the mire? Doest thou thinke thou shalt haue them pacified and pleased at the day of iudgement, vvhom thou vvilt depriue of so great, and so long hoped for ioy? They excee­dingly reioyced, when we came to the profession of true Religion, euen as for them whom they did see called backe from the very gate of Hell.

What will it be then, vvhen they shall see vs returne from the gate of Paradise, and that they should goe backwards againe, vvhich had one foote in heauen? For although we haue our bodies here beneath, yet wee may lift vp our hearts aboue. Therefore let vs runne, not vvith the steppes of the body, but with the affections, [Page 53] but with the desires, but with sighs of the soule, because not onely the Angels, but also the Creator of the Angels doth vvaite for vs. GOD the Father doth vvaite for vs, as children and heires, that he may put vs in possession of all his good.

The Sonne of God doth waite for vs as Brethren, and co-heires with him, that hee may offer vs to GOD the Father, the fruit of his Natiuitie, and price of his blood. The holy Ghost doth wait for vs, for hee is loue and benignity:Gods ele­ction irre­uocable. in which we are predestinated from Eternitie, and there is no doubt, but hee will haue his predestina­tion to be accomplished. There­fore because all the heauenly Court doth expect, and desire vs, let vs desire it with as great desire as we can.

For he shal come to it with con­fusion and blushing, vvhosoeuer [Page 54] doth not vehemently desire to see it. But vvhosoeuer is conuersant in the same, by continuall prayer and daily meditation, hee doth both depart from hence without griefe, and is also receiued into it with great ioy. Therefore, where­soeuer thou shalt be, pray within thy selfe. If thou shalt be farre from the place of prayer, thou thy selfe art a place. If thou shalt be in thy bed, or in some other place, pray thou: and where the Temple of prayer is, thou must pray of­ten, and the body being bowed downe, the minde is to bee lif­ted vp to GOD.What ge­sture is to be vsed of him which prayeth. For as there is no moment, in vvhich man doth not vse, or enioy the goodnesse and mercie of GOD: So there ought to bee no moment, in vvhich hee should not haue him present in memory.Obiection of a faith­lesse peti­tioner. But you vvill say, I pray daily, and see no fruit of my prayer: but as I come to it, [Page 55] so I returne from it: no body doth answere mee, no body speaketh, none giueth any thing at all, but I seeme to haue la­boured in vaine. So speaketh mans foolishnesse, nor marking what the Truth afterward promi­seth: saying, Ʋerely I say vnto you, that whatsoeuer yee aske praying, be­leeue that you shall receiue it, and it shall be performed to you. Doe not therefore make slight account of thy prayer, because he to whom thou prayest, doth not make slight account of it, but before it passeth out of thy mouth,God gi­ueth that he know­eth to be best for vs. he willeth that it should be written downe in his Booke. And we must vndoubted­ly hope for one thing of two, that eyther he will giue vs that vvhich we aske, or that which he knoweth to be more profitable for vs. Thinke therefore the best, what­soeuer thou canst, of God, and the worst of thy selfe that thou maist; [Page 56] thou oughtest to beleeue of him more copiously and amply then thou canst thinke. Make account that thou hast lost all that time in which thou dost not thinke of God. For all other things are none of our owne, but the time onely is our owne. Therefore finde leisure to serue GOD, and wheresoeuer thou shalt be, there be thou safe without danger. Doe not wholy deliuer vp thy selfe to worldly affayres, but vse the world as if thou vsedst it not. In what place or state soeuer thou dost consist, cast thy thoughts vpon God, and ponder something belonging to thy Saluation, in thy minde.We must relie onely vpon God. Therefore with all faci­litie, gathering thy minde toge­ther, dwell freely with thy selfe, and walke in the latitude and bredth of thy heart, there pre­pare, and make ready a large sup­ping parlor for CHRIST: for [Page 57] the minde of a wise man is alwaies with God. We ought to haue him alwayes before our eyes, by whom wee are, liue and vnderstand. For we haue him our Creator, that we should be, wee also ought to haue him our Teacher, that we should be wise, and the giuer of inward sweetnesse, that wee may be bles­sed, and in this wee know his I­mage in vs, that is, the Image of the most high Trinitie. For as he is, he is both wise and also good; so also we, according to our small measure, both are, and know that wee are, and both loue to be, and to know the same. There­fore vse thy selfe as the Temple of GOD, because of that vvhich is in thee like to God. For it is the greatest Honour which can be performed to GOD to vvor­ship and to imitate him. Thou doest imitate him, if thou art godly, for a godly minde is a [Page 58] holy Temple to God, and the hart of a godly man, the best Altar. Thou doest worship him, if thou art merciful,He wor­shippeth God truly, that doth the deeds of charitie. as he is merciful vnto all. For it is an acceptable sacrifice to God, to doe good to all in re­gard of God. Doe all things as the childe of God, that thou maist be worthy of him, who hath vouchsafed to call thee childe. But in all things which thou dost,God is pre­sent euery where. know that God is present. Beware therefore, that neither thy eyes, nor thy thoughts, be fixed on that which breedeth a sinfull delight: neither say nor doe that which is vnlawfull, although it like thee, neither offend God by any deed, or gesture, which being present euery where, beholdeth whatsoe­uer thou doest any where. Thou hadst need to watch and looke to thy selfe narrowly, because thou doest all things before the eyes of a Iudge, which seeth all things [Page 59] cleerely. Neuerthelesse, thou nee­dest not to stand in dread of him, but art secure with him, if thou prepare thy selfe to be such a one, as he may vouchsafe in fauour to be present with thee; but if hee be absent by grace, yet is he present with thee by reuengement.God cor­recteth them whom he loueth. But woe be to thee, if it be so with thee: yea, rather woe be vnto thee, if he be not so vvith thee. For God is angry vvith him whom he scour­geth, not when he sinneth, for he condemneth him in time to come, perpetually, whom hee doth not amend by scourging vvhen he li­ueth vvickedly.

A Consideration of Death. MOTIVE. VII.

IT is certaine that Death threat­neth thee euery where, the Deuill lieth in waite, that hee may snatch [Page 60] away thy soule when it departeth out of thy body, but feare thou not, for GOD which dwelleth in thee (if hee yet dwell in thee) will deliuer thee from death,God for­saketh none but such as willingly forsake him first. and from the Deuill. For hee is a faithfull friend, neither doth hee forsake them which trust in him, vnlesse he be first forsaken of them. But hee is forsaken when the heart, through wicked, vile, and vnpro­fitable cogitations, roaueth hither and thither with a wandering vn­derstanding.

Therefore thou must with all carefulnesse and vigilancy watch and keepe it, that God may rest and remaine in it. For in euery Creature, which is busied and toiled in the vanities of the world vnder the Sunne,Nothing in the world more no­ble then the heart of man. nothing is more excellent then mans heart, no­thing more Noble, nothing is found more like vnto God, where­fore hee requireth no other thing [Page 61] of thee, but thy heart.How to purifie the heart. Therefore cleanse the same by pure and sin­cere confession vnto God, and continuall Prayer, that thou maist see God with a pure and cleane heart, by a continuall looking vp­on God.

In euery place be thou subiect and intentiue to him, and frame thy manners, that he may be plea­sed in thee. Loue all men inward­ly, and shew thy selfe louing to all, that thou mayst be a peace-maker, and the childe of God. So thou shalt be a good childe, like vnto thy heauenly Father, also holy, humble, and righteous. And when thou shalt be such a one, be mind­full of mee, to commend mee to GOD in thy prayers. Woe bee to mee which say those things, and doe them not,Good words must be se­conded with good deeds. and if I doe them sometime, I continue not long in them, I haue those things in my memory, and doe [Page 62] not obserue them in my life; I haue them in my words, and not in my conditions; I ruminate and pon­der the Law in my heart and my mouth all the day, and doe things contrarie to the law; I read of Re­ligion in it, and I loue Reading more then prayer.

Notwithstanding, the holy Scripture doth teach me no other thing, but to loue Religion, to preserue Vnitie, and to haue Cha­ritie. Some body waiteth and at­tendeth for mee, desirous to speak to mee concerning his want and necessitie, but I take some idle booke or other,Immode­rate rea­ding must not let the practise of Charitie, nor the ex­ercise of Meditati­on. which this man or that man commends vnto me, I read in it, and by immoderate rea­ding, I loose the practise of the fruits of Charitie, the affections of piety, the lamentation of com­punction, and heartie sorrow, the profit of the holy Sacraments, and contemplation of heauenly [Page 63] things. Neuerthelesse, nothing is found more sweet in this life, no­thing is receiued more delicious, nothing doth so separate the vn­derstanding from the loue of the world, nothing doth so fortifie the minde against temptations,The profi­table fruits of deuout meditati­on. no­thing doth so stirre vp man, and further him to euery good worke and labour, as the Grace and be­nefit of diuine meditation, and heauenly contemplation.

In what manner a man ought to pray deuoutly. MOTIVE. VIII.

HAue mercy vpon mee, oh God, because I offend there most where I ought to amend my sinnes. For while I pray often, in the place of prayer, I doe not marke what I say, I pray truly with the mouth, but my minde wande­ring [Page 64] abroad, I am depriued of the fruit of prayer. With my body I am within, but with my heart I am without.

And therefore I loose that I say. For it profiteth little to sing, or pray with the voyce onely, without the deuotion of the hart. Therefore it is great foolishnesse, yea, rather great madnesse, vvhen wee doe presume to speake with the Lord of Maiestie in prayer,It is pre­sumption to pray without hearty and true deuo­tion. and being without vnderstanding, doe turne our minde from him, and turne our heart, I know not to what fooleries and toyes. It is also great madnesse, and grie­uously to be punished, when most vile and base dust, doth disdaine to heare the Creatour of the whole world speaking to it.

But it is an vnspeakeable grace of the Diuine goodnesse, which doth daily behold vs vnhappy vvretches, turning away our eares, [Page 65] hardning our hearts, and neuer­thelesse cryeth out to vs, saying: Returne yee Transgressors vvith your heart, attend and see, because I am God.

God speaketh to me in a Psalme, neither yet when I say a Psalme, doe I consider whose Psalme it is. Wherefore I doe great iniurie to God, when I pray to him to heare my prayer, which I doe not heare my selfe, who doe vtter the same.

I intreat him that he attend to mee,The pray­er of the wicked is turned in­to abho­mination. but I neither attend to my selfe, nor to him, but that which is farre worse, by thinking filthy and vnprofitable things within my heart, I bring an horrible stinke before his sight.

Of the instabilitie and wande­ring of the heart. MOTIVE. IX.

The heart of man is tossed to and fro in the stream of euill co­gitations.NOthing is more vnconstant, instable, and fugitiue in mee, then my heart, the which so often as it leaueth me, floweth and flee­teth away by euill cogitations, so often it offendeth God. My heart, great heart, wandering, vnstable while it is led by his owne will, cannot remaine constant in it selfe, but being more moueable then a­ny moueable thing, is distracted and drawne through infinite things, and runneth vp & downe, hither and thither, through innu­merable matters.

And vvhile it seeketh rest and content by diuers things, it can­not finde the same: but continu­eth in the labour and turmoyle of miserie, voyd of rest and content­ment. [...] [Page 69] and seeketh here and there, where it may rest, and findeth nothing which may suffice it, vntill it doth returne to him backe againe, who gaue it.

It is ledde from cogitation to cogitation, and it is altered and changed, by diuers imployments and affections, that at least it may be filled with varietie and change of those things, with whose qua­litie it cannot any way possibly be satisfied.

So the heart is troubled with it's owne illusions and fantasies;The heart reuolting from God, can finde no rest, vntill it re­turne to God. All that we haue is Gods owne, yet hee saith, giue mee thy heart. the Diuine grace being remoued and substracted. And when it is returned to it selfe, and discus­seth and examineth that vvhich it thought, it findeth nothing, because it was not a worke, but an vnsauoury and vnseasonable thought, which compoundeth and frameth many things of little or nothing at all.

And lastly, imagination decei­ueth it, which the illusion of the Deuill formeth and shapeth. God commaundeth me that I giue him my heart, and because I am not o­bedient and subiect to God, com­manding, I am rebellious, and contrary to my selfe. Whereby I cannot be brought in subiection to my selfe, vntill I shall be subiect to him, and serue my selfe with an euill will, which would not serue him with a good will. Therefore my heart plotteth, endeauoureth, and goeth about more things in one moment, then all men are able to performe in a yeere; I am not vnited with God, and therefore I am diuided in my selfe. I cannot be truly vnited with him, but by loue: neither be subiect to him, but by humility: neither can I be truly humble, but by truth.

It is expedient therefore that I examine my selfe in Truth, and [Page 71] know how vile, how fraile, how vnconstant and slipperie I am. Af­terwards, when I shal know all my wants and miseries, it is needfull that I cleaue vnto him, by whom I am, and without whom I am no­thing, and can doe nothing: and because I haue departed from the Lord by sinning, I cannot returne vnto him but by true confession. Therefore I must now confesse in truth and sinceritie, because I haue neuer confessed my sinnes, in that measure and manner, in which I haue sinned, neither haue I re­membred all; eyther because of the antiquitie or multitude of them. But if I haue confessed them, I haue not sincerely con­fessed them, but haue flattered the flesh in my confession, and haue dealt falsely in casting vp the sum of my great and grieuous trans­gressions. And it is a cursed dissi­mulation, to make but a slight and [Page 72] counterfeit confession of our re­bellions towards GOD, and of our injurious and vncharitable actions towards men, and onely to pare the outside of sinne away, and as it were, to wash our hands with a little water, & not to pluck vp sinne by the rootes, that it may neuer afterwards grow vp in our hearts.

Our Con­fession must bee true and sincere.For confession is not profita­ble, but in the Truth and puritie of the heart, that there may be three which may beare vs wit­nesse in Heauen: The Father, and the Sonne, and the holy Ghost. And as men haue beene beholders of our manifolde transgressions, so let vs make them witnesses of our humble repentance, and har­tie contrition. And although we must, and ought to acknowledge GOD alone to bee All-suffi­cient to graunt vs free pardon and absolution, yet wee should [Page 63] not refuse to shew forth mani­fest testimonies to men, of our true and sincere Humiliation. To vvhich, the Apostle Saint Iames, doth counsell and perswade vs, saying: Confesse your sinnes one to another.

For it is very conuenient, that vvee, vvhich haue beene stub­borne and rebellious by sinning against GOD, should be hum­ble also towards men, whom vve haue offended, eyther by the euill example of our wicked life, or else by our wrongfull dealing and false deeds.

For it is most healthfull to the soule, that a man repent in heart, and acknowledge his fault with his mouth, so that God, which is present in Mercy and Grace, may pricke his heart by compunction and bitter repentance, and after­ward may bee also present and ready to giue him full pardon of [Page 74] his sinnes. But if a sinner doe truely repent, and yet by some ac­cidentall necessitie bee preuented that he cannot make any acknow­ledgement to such men as he hath offended, we must confidently be­leeue that whatsoeuer is defectiue in him concerning such acknow­ledgement, is fulfilled by Christ, who hath made a full satisfaction. For GOD accepteth that as done, which a man hath beene willing, although not able to per­forme.

That Sinne is not to be ex­cused. MOTIVE. X.

IN the account of my sinnes, where I should haue amended, I haue augmented my sinnes, and added sinnes to sinnes. When I haue beene accused of them, I [Page 75] haue eyther by some meanes ex­cused them,An vnre­lenting sinner will either cun­ningly ex­cuse or flatly deny his sinne. or wholy denied them, or that which is worst, I haue maintained and defended them, and haue answered impati­ently, when indeed there is no sinne with which I am not, or may not be polluted. It is iust there­fore, all occasion being remooued, that I promise amendment, how­soeuer, or of whatsoeuer I am ac­cused, to the end that I may be de­liuered from sinne committed or to be committed.

What a great euill it is, not to correct or reprehend others. MOTIVE. XI.

I Greatly dreading the multi­tude of my owne iniquities, haue beene afrayd to reprehend the [Page 76] transgressions of others,By silence we make our selues guiltie of other mens sinnes, when wee ought to admonish or correct them. and ther­fore haue beene the Author of death, because I haue not expel­led the poyson, which I might haue purged by crying out vnto them.

I haue stormed against others, and haue beene incensed with fu­rie, when they haue reprehended me for my vices, and I haue hated them whom I ought to haue lo­ued: I desired that those things might not be, which did hurt or displease me.

Neuerthelesse, I did know that in their owne Nature they vvere good, and made of a good Maker; and therefore they did hurt mee, because I was euill, and did vse them euilly. For nothing is contrary or hurtfull to my selfe,Good things are made euill by abuse. but I my selfe. For that is with mee and in mee, vvhatso­euer is able to hurt mee, and I my selfe am a burthen to my selfe.

I wished also that God might not know my sinnes, or that hee would not, or could not punish them, and so I would haue God to be foolish, vniust, and impotent. Which if hee were, hee were not a God. There is no Pride aboue my Pride, therefore the words of my transgressions are farre from my saluation:Pride and God can­not dwell together. For Pride is suspe­cted and hatefull to GOD, nei­ther can it be, that it may returne into fauour vvith him. They lodge in diuers Innes, neither doe they dwell together in one and the same minde, vvhich might not dwell together in HEAVEN. Shee was borne in Heauen; but being as it were vnmindefull, by what way shee fell from thence, shee hath not beene able to re­turne thither afterward.

When as the Ayre hath beene at sometime troubled with Raine, or else with too much colde or heat, [Page 78] I murmured wickedly against God. For all things which we re­ceiued for the vse of life, wee re­uert, or rather peruert, to the vse of wickednesse. Wherefore it is iust, that vvee which haue sinned in all things, be smitten and wounded in all things. Often­time in singing diuine Psalmes,God more respecteth a true mourning heart, then a sweet melodious voyce. I was more delighted with the tune of my voyce, then in the compunction of my heart. But God, to whom nothing is hidden, vvhich is wickedly committed, doeth not so much require the sweetnesse of the voyce, as the purity of the heart. For while the Singer doth tickle & delight the people with melodious voyces, he mooueth God to wrath, with his euill conditions.

I haue oftentimes extorted of my Gouernours and Rulers li­cense to speake, or to doe some­thing by ouermu h importunitie, [Page 79] or by crafty subtilty, not conside­ring miserable wretch, that hee couseneth and deceiueth himselfe vvhich laboureth priuily, or se­cretly that the Magistrate or Mi­nister may enioyne him that vvhich may best sort and most please his corrupt desire. I haue often coueted and desired a Nee­dle or a Knife, or some base thing, and I haue not beene touched with any sense of sorrow for my couetous desire, because I did not esteeme it a sinne, by reason of the basenesse of the matter.Concupi­scence is not to be iudged by the estima­tion of the thing, but by the cor­ruption of the desire. But there is no great difference, what sub­stance so euer be desired, base or precious, if the affection be equal­ly corrupted. For the Knife is not in fault, but the couetous desire of the Knife is to be condemned. Neither is Gold in fault, but the greedie desire of Gold is vitious and sinfull.

In my labour, I haue not labou­red [Page 80] so much as I should, or so much as I could.

In silence also I haue beene idle, which is a most great sinne. For in silence no man ought to be so idle, that in the same leasure he thinketh not on the profit of his Neighbour: nor so busied, that he require not the Meditation, and contemplation of God. For hee doth not profit himselfe much, which doeth not profit another when he may.

I haue boasted my selfe of my Vices, thinking that to be a signe of Vertue, which was a criminall Trespasse. Of Vertues also I haue made Vices. For Iustice, while it exceedeth due mediocritie and measure, ingendreth the Vice of all bad and hatefull cruelty: and too much pittie, bringeth forth the dissolution and ouerthrow of discipline, and necessarie corre­ction, so oftentimes that is vice [Page 81] which is supposed to be vertue.Vices are taken, (or rather mi­staken) for vertues. So carelesse remisnesse, is supposed to be gentle mildnesse, and the vice of sloathfulnesse doth imitate the vertue of quietnesse. I fained my selfe to be that vvhich I was not, or that I would not do that which I would, said one thing vvith my mouth, and willed another thing in my heart, and so vnder the skin of a Sheepe, I shrowded the con­science, indeede of a subtill Foxe.Notes of a deceitfull Consci­ence. For indeede a luke-warme con­uersation, and a more naturall and corrupt cogitation, ioyned vvith a fained confession, a short compunction, obedience vvith­out deuotion, prayer vvithout earnest intention, reading vvith­out edifying, speech without care­full circumspection, are proper­ties of a Fox-like and crafty con­science. Oh how hard are these things to mee which I speake, be­cause I smite & wound my selfe by [Page 82] speaking them: notwithstanding, because I doe not denie my selfe to be a sinner, but doe acknow­ledge my sinne, peraduenture the acknowledgement of my faults, shall be the obtaining of my par­don with GOD, a mercifull and pittifull Iudge.The con­fession of sinnes is a ready way to obtaine remission. Therefore I will declare my miserie, if peraduen­ture his kindnesse and pittie may moue him, I will confesse my sin, because the acknowledgement of sinne is the beginning of saluati­on. I carrie my selfe kindely to­wards men, I exceede not in my garments, I am carefull to obserue Ecclesiasticall Orders, to pray and sing at houres appointed, but my heart is farre from my God. I loo­king vpon the outward part, think all things are safe and well to me, not feeling the inward Worme which gnaweth the inward bo­wels. As it is recorded in the sea­uenth Chapter of Oseas, Strangers [Page 83] haue eaten vp my strength, and I knew it not.

And therefore, vvholly occu­pied and imployed about those things which are without, and al­together ignorant of the things within me, I am powred out like water, and brought to nothing, forgetting things past, neglecting things present, not fore-seeing things to come: I am vnthank­full for benefits receiued, prone to euill, and slow to good.

How euery man ought to consi­der himselfe. MOTIVE. XII.

IF I doe not looke vpon my selfe, I know not my selfe, but if I looke vpon my selfe, I cannot to­lerate or endure my selfe: because I finde such great things in my selfe, which are worthy of repre­hension [Page 84] and confusion: and by so much the more narrowly and more often I examine my selfe, by so much the more are the abho­minations I finde in the secret cor­ners of my heart. For from the very first moment I began to sin, I could not let one day passe with­out sinne.

Neither as yet doe I cease to sinne, but from day to day, I adde sinnes to sinnes, and I haue them before mine eyes.When we sin with­out sense of sinne, our soule is sicke, euen vnto death. I behold them, yet I doe not groane nor sigh for them. I see things to be blushed at, neither doe I blush: I looke vpon things to be grieued at, nei­ther am I grieued: vvhich thing is a signe of death, and a token of damnation. For a member, which feeleth not the paine, is mortified and dead: and a disease insensi­ble, is alwayes incurable. I am vn­constant, and dissolute, neither doe I reforme my selfe, but I re­turne [Page 85] daily to the sinnes I haue confessed: neither doe I take heed of the Ditch, into which I wret­ched creature haue fallen, or into which I haue made or seene ano­ther fall into. And when I should haue vvept and prayed for the euils I committed, and for the good thinges I neglected (oh griefe) it turned to mee into the contrary: For I was luke-warme, and I was quite cold from the fer­uent heat of prayer, and now haue remained colde vvithout sense; and therefore I cannot be­waile my selfe, because the grace of teares is departed from me.

Of the presence of the Conscience euery where. MOTIVE. XIII.

I Cannot conceale my sinnes, be­cause wheresoeuer I go my con­science [Page 86] is with me, carrying with it whatsoeuer I haue layd vp in it, either euill or good. It keepeth the pledge which it hath receiued from me, being aliue, it will restore the same to me being dead. If I doe euilly, it is present: If I seeme to doe well, and therefore am lif­ted vp, it is present. Is present to me being aliue, it followeth mee being dead: there is inseparable confusion to mee euery-where, according to the quality of the pledge it hath receiued. So, so, in my owne house,A sinner hath his accusers within himselfe. and from my owne family, I haue mine Accu­sors, Witnesses, Iudge, and Tor­mentors.

My Conscience doth accuse me, my Memory is the witnesse against mee: Reason, the Iudge: my Will, the Prison: Feare, the Executio­ner: and my delight the Tor­ment.

For how many vvicked de­lights [Page 87] there haue beene to pro­cure my carnall pleasure, so many Torments there shall bee in my grieuous punishment: for we are thereby punished, from vvhence we delighted.

Of the three Enemies of Man. MOTIVE. XIIII.

HElpe me oh my God, because mine enemies haue besieged and compassed my soule round a­bout namely the Body, the World, and the Diuell. The flesh, the first e­nemie of man. I cannot flie from the body, nor driue it away from me. I must needes carrie it about mee, because it is fast tyed and bound vnto me, I may not destroy it, I am compelled to nourish and sustaine it. And when I make it fat, I nourish mine aduersarie, a­gainst my selfe. For if I shall pam­per my selfe, and that I shall be [Page 88] lustie and strong, the health and strength of it doth trouble and molest mee.The world the second enemie of man. Likewise the vvorld doth hemme mee in, and besiege me on euery side, and by fiue gates (to wit) by the fiue senses of the body; namely, the sight, hearing, tasting, smelling, and touching, doth wound me with his arrowes, and Death entreth by my vvin­dowes into my soule.

Mine eye looketh backe, and turneth away my Vnderstanding. Mine eare heareth, and turneth a­side the intention of my heart. Smelling hindereth my deuout cogitation. My mouth speaketh, and deceiueth. By touching, the burning of Lust is stirred vp, by any small occasion, and vnlesse it be quenched, it suddainely posses­seth, burneth, and inflameth the whole body.

First, it tickleth the flesh a little with thought, afterward it defi­leth [Page 89] the minde with filthy delight, and at last it subiugateth and cap­tiueth the minde by consent vnto wickednesse.

Further, the Diuell vvhom I cannot see,The Di­uell, the third ene­mie of man. and therefore can the lesse be vvarie of him, hee hath bent his Bowe, and made readie his Arrowes in it, that he may sud­dainely wound me: Hee hath de­clared that hee vvould hide his Snares, and hath said,The Diuel vseth gold and siluer for allu­ring baits, to procure the soules bane. Who shall see them? Hee hath laid a snare in gold and siluer, and in all things vvhich vvee abuse, vvith them vvee are euilly delighted, and are ensnared. Hee hath not one­ly layde a Snare, but also Bird­lime.

The loue of possessions is Bird­lime, the affection of kindred,The Di­uels Bird lime. the desire of Honour, and the plea­sure of the flesh, by vvhich the soule is glewed and entangled, that it cannot [...] [...]hrough the streetes [Page 90] of heauenly Syon, vvith the wings of Contemplation. The Ar­rowes of [...] Diuell. The Arrowes and Shafts of the Diuell are, Anger, Enuie, Concupiscence, and other vi­ces: vvith vvhich the soule is wounded. And who is he which is able to quench his fierie Darts? Oh lamentable griefe! a faithfull soule is often wounded with these Darts, and ouercome with these temptations. Alas for me, because I see warres prepared for mee on euery side, Darts flie about euery where, on euery side assailements, on euery side dangers, whereso­euer I shall turne my selfe there is no safety, no security: I feare both those things which delight mee, and also those things which make me sad, and molest me. I feare all things: Hunger and refection, sleepe and watching, labour and resting doe fight against mee. Ieasting is no lesse suspected of me then anger: for I after giuen of­fence [Page 91] vnto many by ieasting: Neither doe I lesse feare prosperi­tie then aduersity: For prosperous things, with their sweetnes, make me carelesse, and deceiue me: but aduerse and contrary things, be­cause they haue some bitternesse, as bitter Potions, doe make mee suspitious and fearefull. I feare the euill more vvhich I doe priuily, then that which I doe openly. For the Temptor commeth boldly to the euill, vvhich no man seeth, which no man comprehendeth, and where no man is feared which should finde fault vvith it, and so iniquitie is more easily com­mitted.

Truly, there is Warre on both sides, danger on both sides, to be feared on both sides. And euen as they which remaine in the Land of their enemies, must looke on this side, and that side, and must turne their head about at euerie [Page 92] noise: So the flesh suggesteth pleasant things to me, the vvorld vaine things, the Diuell bitter things, because so often as a car­nall cogitation doth importu­nately moue & assaile my minde, concerning meate and drinke, sleepe, and other like things, be­longing to the care and prouision of the flesh, the flesh speaketh to me. When a vaine thought is busi­ed in my heart concerning world­ly Ambition, bragging and boast­ing, it proceedeth from the world: But when I am prouoked to an­ger and wrath, and to bitternesse of minde, it is a diuellish suggesti­on, the which I must resist no o­therwise, then the Diuell him­selfe, neither must I any other­wise take heede and beware of it, then of damnation it selfe. It is the office of Diuels to bring in false suggestions: it is our duite not to consent to them; For so [Page 93] often as we resist them, so often we ouercome the Diuell, wee glad the Angels, we honour God. For he doth exhort and encourage vs that wee may fight: hee helpeth vs, that wee may ouercome: hee beholdeth vs fighting: he succou­reth vs fainting: hee crowneth vs conquering.

From whence the flesh of Man pro­ceedeth, and what it bring­eth forth. MOTIVE. XV.

MY flesh proceedeth from the clay, and therefore I haue voluptuous thoughts from it, vaine and curious cogitations from the world,Three cru­ell enemies of man. euill & malitious suggestions from the Diuell. These three enemies doe assaile & perse­cute me, somtime openly, somtime secretly, but alwaies malitiously: [Page 94] For the Diuell trusteth most in the helpe of the flesh, because a do­mesticall enemie doth most hurt, and procureth greatest harme. For she hath entered a league with him for my ruine, ouerthrow, and de­struction: to wit, being borne of sinne, and nourished in sinne, cor­rupted vvith vices from the very beginning:Flesh is corrupted, be birth, nurture, and cu­stome. but made a great deale more vitious by euill custome. From hence it proceedeth, that she coueteth and lusteth so eagerly against the spirit, that she continu­ally murmureth, and cannot abide good discipline and vvholsome correction, because she suggesteth vnlawfull things, will neither obey reason, nor is brideled vvith any feare. That wretched Serpent ap­proacheth to her, hee aydeth her, hee vseth her being the olde and deadly enemie of mankinde: who hath no other desire, no other bu­sinesse, no other exercise, but to [Page 95] destroy our selues.The conti­nuall pra­ctise of the Diuell. This is hee which imagineth mischiefe conti­nually, speaketh subtilly, sugge­steth artificially, deceiueth craftily. Hee inspireth wicked and vnlaw­full motions, raiseth warres, nou­risheth hatred, stirreth vp glutto­nie, incenseth lust, pricketh for­ward the vnbrideled desires of the flesh, and prepareth baites and oc­casion of sinne, and also assaul­teth without ceasing, the hearts of men with a thousand slights, to hurt and destroy them. From hence it falleth out, that he bea­teth vs with our owne staffe, bind­eth our hands with our owne gir­dle, and cutteth our throat with our owne knife, so that the flesh which is giuen to vs for a helpe, becommeth to vs ruine and hurt, and is as a blocke in our way, to make vs to stumble. It is a grie­uous combat, and a great danger to fight against such a domesticall [Page 96] enemie, especially, seeing wee are strangers, and hee a Citizen; hee inhabiteth his owne Country, we are banished men and strangers. It is also great perill and danger to endure so often, yea rather such continuall conflicts of his diuel­lish policie, whom, as well subtill nature, as long exercise of his in­ueterate malice, hath made so po­liticke and crafty.

Of the short life of man. MOTIVE. XVI.

THe day of man is as it were a shadow, or rather a shadow vpon earth, it hath no continu­ance: and then it is properly no­thing, and more vaine then any thing, when it seemeth to stand su­rest, and to rest vpon a sound foundation.

Therfore why doth a couetous [Page 97] man hoord vp treasure here vpon earth so greedily,The folly of rich men. when both hee himselfe must passe away so sud­denly, & also the treasure which he hath stored vp so carefully? And in truth (oh foolish man) what fruit canst thou expect in the vvorld, whose sweetest fruit is vtter ruine; whose end is death and wofull de­struction? Would to GOD thou wert wise, could vnderstand and carefully prouide in thy short life, against the day of thy certaine and vncertaine death.A notable description of the olde man, or sinne. I know one who many yeeres hath liued familiarly with thee, hath sat downe at thy Table, hath receiued meat from thine owne hand, hath slept in thy bosome, and when he would, hath had priuate conference with thee.

He by hereditary law is but thy seruant. But because from his ten­der yeeres, thou hast pampered him delicately, brought him vp very wantonly, and hast spared [Page 98] the rod foolishly, hee is now be­come stubborne and rebellious against thee.

Hee hath lifted vp his heele a­boue thy head, hee hath brought thee into slauish bondage, and doth cruelly tyrannize ouer thee. But peraduenture thou wilt say; Who is hee? It is thy olde man, vvhich treadeth and trampleth thy Spirit vnder feete, who disdai­neth, contemneth, and reputeth lesse then nothing that blessed Land, which is solely and wholy to be desired, because nothing can giue a sweet taste, or procure a pleasing rellish to his corrupted humour, but onely such things as may please the wanton flesh, and her vntemperate desires. This man is blinde and deafe from his Na­tiuitie, dumbe, ancient with dayes many and euill, rebellious against vertue, opposite to verity, an Ene­mie of the Crosse of Christ. Hee [Page 99] scorneth, derideth, and flowteth the innocent, and that man which walketh vprightly in truth and sincerity. He busieth himselfe, and intermedleth with great and won­derfull matters, which doe farre exceede his weake capacitie, and much surpasse the short reach of his dull & doltish vnderstanding. His arrogancie and impudent boldnesse, is more then all his for­titude and forces: hee dreadeth none, nor standeth in awe of any: but saith proudly in his doting foolishnesse, There is no God. Hee pineth and consumeth with good things, he is also fed and nourished with other mens euils, hee is fat­ted and cherished with vncleane thoughts, and impure cogitati­ons, he is neuer tyred, nor weari­ed with them, rebelling and trans­gressing euen vnto the end: hee disperseth & scattereth abroad his owne, like an vnthrifty & wasting [Page 100] Prodigall: he coueteth and raketh to himselfe other mens goods, like a couetous and greedy Miser; he heapeth vp to himselfe Ignominie and foule reproach, by his odi­ous fraud and dissimulation, and through his malitious subtilty, kindleth the wrath of God against him, and daily addeth more fewell to augment the flame.

This man was conceiued, bred, and borne in sinne, and so being nurtured, and nusled in sinne, is become a friend of iniquitie, the childe of death, the vessell of wrath, exposed to contumelious reproach, and finall destruction. Who, although hee be so corrup­ted with wicked manners, depra­ued with vile conditions, and de­priued of all commendable ver­tues, yet hee vttereth forth the sa­cred Iustice of God, with his dis­sembling words, and taketh his holy couenant in his prophaned [Page 101] mouth. He hateth discipline, and scorneth correction, he dishonou­reth his soueraigne Lord, and ca­steth his commaundements con­temptuously behinde his backe.

When hee spieth a Thiefe, hee entereth a league of societie, and runneth to mischiefe with him, he shareth and hath his portion with filthy and vncleane Adulterers, he is vvholy delighted vvith their scandalous amitie, he alwaies fre­quenteth their damnable societie. Hee forgetteth many false accusa­tions and criminall obiections against the sonne of his owne and onely mother; hee also treasureth wrath vpon thee against the day of wrath and vengeance, to worke and contriue thy wofull and eter­nall perdition: he would rob and quite depriue thee of thy rich and royall inheritance, and would ba­nish thee for euer from thy hea­uenly and most happy Country, [Page 102] to dwell in a land of perpetuall darknesse, full of euerlasting woes and lamentations.

Yet thou art so blinded vvith selfe-conceited folly, and so be­sotted with thy doting affections, that thou wilt not lift vp so much as thy little finger, to reuenge so great, so notorious, and grieuous an iniurie, but are content to dis­semble thy hurts, and to put vp all his vvrongs hee hath done vnto thee, to hold thy tongue, and so to let them passe away in silence; nei­ther doest thou speake an vnkinde or froward word, nor shew him a frowning or soure looke, but thou smilest vpon him vvith a ioyfull face. When he flattereth & sooth­eth thee in thy dangerous follies, thou doest sport, play, dally, and solace thy selfe with a scornefull mocker, thou knowest not that it is a deriding Ismael, which sport­eth and playeth with thee.

This is no Childish sport acted in simplicitie, and qualified vvith harmelesse innocency: but the beginning of it is bloody persecu­tion, and the end of it euerlasting death and damnation: hee hath tumbled thee downe headlong into the deepe pit which hee dig­ged and made for thy eternall de­struction: now thou art become an effeminate Coward, and hast lost the vigor of thy manly forces: now thou being a wretched Cap­tiue, pressed downe with the grie­uous yoke of most miserable and slauish bondage art basely deie­cted, trampled, and trod vpon vn­der his feet.

O wretched, wofull, and mise­rable man, who shall deliuer, re­scue, and redeeme thee from the heauy band and bondage of this ignominious, and opprobrious Nick-name? Let God arise, and let that armed man fall downe to [Page 104] the ground,If God be on our side, wee need not care who be against vs. let him fall flat on the ground, & let that direfull foe, and bloody Tyrant be beaten into pieces, as small as the dust, to be scattered abroad with the violence of the stormy windes. A proud contemner of God, and all that are good; a worshipper of himselfe; a friend of the world, a seruant of the deuill. What thinkest thou? What is thy opinon? How incli­neth thy minde and affection? If Reason be thy Pilot to direct the course of thy opinion, and Wise­dome the Master to stirre the helme of thy Vnderstanding, thou wilt say with mee, Hee hath com­mitted most vile and horrible treason against the highest Maie­stie, hee is guiltie of death, let him be crucified, and let him suffer (as he hath well deserued) the ex­treame rigour of most bitter and painefull Torments of the flesh.

Do not therefore play the Hy­pocrite, [Page 105] and maske thy coun­terfeiting affections vvith the vizard of dissimulation, deferre not his execution from day to day, by a fond repriuall, spare him not for foolish pitty, but speedily, boldly, & instantly cruci­fie that sinfull and guilty Traytor.

But on the Crosse of Christ, by whose death wee are restored and raised to life, made coheyres with him of his glorious Kingdome, and of euerlasting Saluation: to whom if thou shalt cry vvith a sorrowfull compunction of a groaning heart, and vvith the deepe sighes of a grieued and pe­nitent minde: then thy crucified Christ will heare thee speedily, an­swering thee kindly: To day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.

Oh wonderfull pitty of Christ, a most louing Sauiour! oh vnde­serued, nay vnexpected Saluation of a great and grieuous Sinner! [Page 106] So bountifull, so gracefull, and so delightfull is the exceeding loue of God: so admirable is his sweet­nesse, so farre beyond our opinion is his fauourable kindnesse, so im­measurable is his meekenesse, that his eares are alwaies open to heare the complaints of his pleople: he is alwaies at leisure to receiue with kindnesse, and to answere with speedinesse, the humble petitions of those which in time of their distresses, will faithfully call vpon him, and with contrite and relen­ting hearts, will reuerently ap­proach neere vnto him, because his mercy toward vs, is without measure, and his tender compas­sion knoweth no bounds.

Oh how great, worthy, and wonderfull is the mercy of our gratious God! Oh how vnvttera­ble is the powerfull alteration of the right hand of the highest? Yesterday I was fast fettered in the [Page 107] Prison of darkenesse, vnder the checke of a cruell and mercilesse Murtherer:How plea­sant is the freedome of sinne. to day I am in the hand of a pittifull and mercifull Mediator. Yesterday I was in the gate of deuouring hell, on euery side affrighted with feare, and af­flicted with misery: to day I am in the pleasant Paradise, of eternall delights and pleasure, totally re­plenished with neuer-decaying ioy, endlesse delight, and euerla­sting felicitie. But how may these Letters of admonition preuaile? how may they profite? vnlesse thou race out of the Booke of thy Conscience, the blacke letters of thy bloody death, and sinnefull debt? How can these sentences affoord thee any solace, procure any profit, or bring any comfort when they are read and vnder­stood, vnlesse thou read thy selfe truly, know and vnderstand per­fectly? Doe thy best diligence, af­forde [Page 108] thy chiefest indeauours to internall and mentall reading:The true end and vse of rea­ding bookes. that thou mayest read thy selfe truely, looke into thy selfe cir­cumspectly, and know thy selfe throughly.

Read, that thou mayest loue God vnfainedly, that thou mayest fight, and hold out vntill the end of the battell couragiously, and that thou mayest ouercome the world, and euery cruell enemy vi­ctoriously: so that thy toyling la­bour may be turned into eternall rest and quietnesse: thy wofull mourning into mirth and glad­nesse, thy streames of teares, into riuers of comfortable vvaters: and that when Death hath quite put out the twinckling Lampe of thy daily consuming life, thou mayest see the bright and glori­ous appearing of that euer-shining Morning; whose euer-glistering Sunne shall neuer set, nor his gol­den [Page 109] beames be euer obscured with any cloudy Euening.

And that thou mayest also see with thy cleere-sighted eyes, ne­uer wearyed in beholding, to thy Soules eternall solace, to the in­finite ioy of thy triumphing minde, and constant delight of all thy purified sences, the resplen­dant and radiant beames of the gliftering Sunne of conspicuous righteousnesse, in vvhich thou mayest behold the bountifull, the beautifull, the glorious Bride­groome, the Lord Iesus Christ, vni­ted vvith his euerlasting, most deere, best, and onely beloued Spouse, whom hee hath decked with his rich and royall Robes, adorned with super-excellent and admirable beauty, hauing with his owne pretious Bloud, yea,Wee are clensed by Christs bloud. his Heart-bloud, vvashed, clean­sed, and rinced her from all the foule staines, spottes, and [Page 110] blemishes of her former sinnefull deformitie: Hee that is one, and the same Lord of Eternall glory, vvho liueth and raigneth, by Times which are vvithout any bounds of measure, and whose euer-durable continuance shall neuer haue any ending.