A Divine Dialogue; Or A Comfortable Conference betwixt our SAVIOUR, and a SINNER.

PArdon mee (I beseech thee) my most graci­ous Lord Jesu CHRIST, thy most unworthy and unhappy Servant, desirous to talke a while with thee, and of thee.

Why, Who art thou?

A sinfull man, who un­happily and rashly have fal­len into the misery, and fil­thinesse of sundry sinnes, and much more unhappily am ready to fall into eternall mi­sery, and calamity after the end of this life.

Thou needest not feare this fearfull fall, if thou wilt but doe so much as tru­ly repent thee of thy sinnes committed, and henceforth abstaine from those sinnes whereof thou hast repented. For I, most tender in my compassion towards thee, out of meere love descended from the royall Throne of mine high glory, to unmea­surable dolour and anxiety, all which I willingly suffe­red [Page 3] in my flesh, in my mind, in my members, and senses, to the end that I might deli­ver thee from the eternall torments of hell, and bestow on thee the joy of Heaven. Doubt nothing therefore touching thine offences: I will forget them all, so thou forget thine evill affection, and depraved custome. I will forget, (I say) and blot out thine iniquity, and as farre distant as the East is from the West, so farre will I divide thee from thy sinne: I will cleanse thee: Neither will I cease till I fulfill thee throughout: that, Where sin hath abounded, grace likewise may superabound. Yet I would beloved, I would be trusted, I would with sighs and teares [Page 4] be intreated, than which no sweeter melody can unto me be tendred.

O my crucified JESU, I know I am dearer to thee than I am to my selfe; for to thee I am alwayes deare, who (as it is written) Lovest all things that are, and hatest no­thing of those which thou hast made. But man is not alwaies equally deare to himselfe as he is unro thee: because hee that loveth iniquity, hateth his own [...] soule.

This have I shewn in the continuall sorrowes of my whole cru [...]ified life. For I received the Crosse of my Passion in the Womb of my mother, and continually bore it in my heart, and con­firmed it with much austerity [Page 5] in my body. So as that I might purposely shew the unmeasurablenesse of the sor­rowes of my soule; my finall passion then approaching, it was my will to sweat blood thorow all my members, and that, (which lay hid as a se­cret of my crucifying, from the wombe of my Mother) with sensible signes, to re­veale to my faithfull ones, which seemed fittest to be at my passage, and poin [...] of death.

I conceive (my good JESU) how in that bloudy sweat, with which thou wert deep-died and engrained in all thy members, thy blessed soule wholly suffered, be­cause it is whole in every part of the body, yea and the [Page 6] very life of the body. But tell me what thou requirest of me, for so great anguish continually sustained for me?

Onely to love me againe. For to this end have I suffe­red my passion, that I might purchase thy affection.

Surely most worthy art thou to bee loved, because thou art good in thy selfe: and none good but God alone: And because thou art the Lord, delivering from the power and slavery of the De­vill: And because thou art God, forgiving sinnes, which none forgiveth but God alone: And because thou lovest those that love thee: Whence it is that thou say­est, I love those that love mee: [Page 7] And because thou hearest those that begge of thee: whence one saith, I have lo­ved the Lord, because hee will heare mee. Thou also, as the peace of charity, comming into the world, to warme and inflame the cold and lukewarme, hast said, I came, that they might have life: to wit, the life of grace in this life, and more abundantly, to wit, of glory in the life to come.

Surely there is nothing, which may so inflame the fire of Gods love in thy heart, as a continuall consideration and meditation of this speech of mine: I came, that they might have life, and that more abundantly. And of that much like unto this: So God [Page 8] loved the world, as he gave his onely begotten Sonne.

Truly wretched and mi­serable is hee, in whose heart the fire of love is not kind­led, when hee considereth these things, wherein the Charity of God hath chiefly appeared. But, ô thou only begotten of God, suffer not my heart to bee so frozen, or benummed with this icy con­gelation, but rather through thy mercy, in the remem­brance of these thy Words, like Snow melting by the heat of the Sunne, let me say with that princely Prophet: My heart is become as melting wax.

Humane impiety before the time of my passion, tooke occasion of being unthank­full: [Page 9] For man being created, but not as then redeemed, said, ‘I am no more bound to God, than other crea­tures be: For he spake the word, and I was made; hee hath bestowed no more la­bour on me than any other brute creature.’ But now the mouth of these that speak wickedly is stopped, and no place now is left for un­thankfulnesse. For I have la­boured more in the sole re­demption of man, than in the whole frame and fabrick of the World. For of a Ma­ster I became a servant, of Rich poore, of Immortall mortall, of the Word flesh, of the Sonne of God the son of man: I suffered re­proaches of such as upbrai­ded [Page 10] me, I suffered undermi­ners in my Works, contradi­cters in my Words, scor­ners in my Woes, necessities of the flesh, horrour of death, ignominy of the Crosse.

O how admirable was this love! What shall I ren­der to my Lord, for all his sorrowes?

If thou recall to mind, how great things the Lord of Majesty, the Sonne of God suffered for thee, though thou should [...]t dye a thousand deaths, yet wert thou not equally sufficient to answer me: for the estimate of so great a benefit, exceedeth all meanes of requitall.

As thou best knowest, how much I owe unto thee, the Lord of glory, who subje­ctedst [Page 11] thy self to death for me, that I might enjoy that hap­pinesse, which neither eye hath seene, nor eare hath heard: recount unto me, I beseech thee, the reasons which cau­sed that most dolorous paine in thy most holy soule. For thou saidst, right now, that in the wombe of thy blessed Mother, thou receivedst the Crosse of thy Passion, and bore it continually to the houre of thy dissolution.

To this end, that thou mightst by affection & com­passion become an acceptable sacrifice unto God, wholly inflamed with the fire of Charity, all the rust and rub­bish of sin being consumed, and wasted: Consider dili­gently with a lively heart, [Page 12] how I suffred a double Mar­tyrdome; one in my body, another in my soule or Spi­rit. As touching the Mar­tyrdome of my Body consider, that there was never the suf­fering of any martyr so sharp, so painfull, that it might be compared with my suffering: which I will prove unto thee, by authority, by signe, by reason. First, by authority. For I my selfe crying out of the greatnesse of my sor­rows, said, O all yee, who passe by this way, consider and see, if ever there were sorrow like unto my sorrow! as if I should have said, there was never any.

Secondly, by Signe; Foras­much as there were never so many Signes seene in the [Page 13] Martyrdome of any, as at my Passion, implying the sharp­nesse and painfulnesse of it: to wit, When the Sunne was darkned, the Earth mo­ved, &c. As if by the dolo­rous clamours of my passion they had conceived a sense of devout compassion, be­moning me the Son of God, hanging on the Crosse. For it was not in the creature to indure the injury done to the Creatour. Wherein wicked and obdurate hearts are justly reproved, who will not be wrought to compas­sion, nor softned with a pi­ous devotion, in the remem­brance of my death.

Thirdly, I prove unto thee the bitternesse of my passion by reason. Forasmuch [Page 14] as my complexion was most excellent, both by reason of the incorruption of my flesh, as also by reason ofthe most proportionable union or mixture of the Elementary qualities. For I tooke cor­ruptible flesh of the Virgin, for the freeing of all Origi­nall sinne, that is, of inordi­nate concupiscence. Now to such a complexion, was re­quired comelinesse of beauty, and strength of body. Because therefore, by how much more proportionable the u­nion is of those Elements and qualities, whereof man is composed and compacted: by so much more difficulty, and violently is he dissolved: hence it appeareth, that the separation of my body and [Page 15] soule was more painfull, than the death of others. Al­so my blessed flesh, by how much more it was freer from all spot or blemish of sin: by so much also it became more In that he was inno­ [...]ent, he be­came more sensible of torment. sensible of torments. Now concerning my Spirituall mar­tyrdome, which I suffered in my Soule (as I said before unto thee) it began at such time as I was first conceived in the wombe of my mother, or that my Soule was infused into my body: and conti­nued without intermission 33. yeeres and a halfe, till such time as my Soule was separated from my body up­on the Crosse. So as, I be­came a Martyr even in the Wombe of my Mother. Wherfore I was not so much [Page 16] as one moment, without the most bitter martyrdome of my Spirit: Because what­soever I suffered in the Night when I was taken, or the Day following when I was slaine, in mocking, reviling, spitting, nayling, and stretch­ing upon the Crosse, &c. This throughly and wholly my most holy Soule long before suffered. But thou art especially to consider, that those dolorous piercing darts of the Virgin, my blessed mother, became the excessivest Object of my sor­rowes; who having a tender and respective eye to all my dolours, in perfect Charity, as became the condition of her motherly excellency, so much grieved for my sor­rowes, [Page 17] as was sitting for such a woman to grieve. And all the sorrowes of my Mother, continually wounded my mind. So as, my Mothers Crosse ministred unto mee a new Crosse.

Another Object of my continuall sorrow, was all those martyrdomes which were at any time done, or to bee done upon any of mine Elect for me. So as, in very truth I say unto thee, that all those paines, griefes, tribu­lations, persecutions, and miseries, which any man was to suffer, or should suffer as­well in body, as in soule, from Adam, even to the very last man, that shall bee borne to the end of the World: all these I suffered alwayes in [Page 18] my Soule must fully, and through my compassion they did more hurt me, and more sharply grieve me, than any mans corporall paine, which hee actually suffereth, ever personally did. And there are two causes which give sufficient testimony of the truth hereof. One is, be­cause I, in the glasse or mir­rour of my Divinity did be­hold all things created and to bee created, things past, present, and to come, which were to me present. And I, from the very first instant of the infusion of my Soule in­to my Body, began alwayes to observe, till such time as I gave up my Ghost upon the Crosse, all the paines which I was to endure, and what­soever [Page 19] all my Elect from the beginning of the world, had at any time suffered, and such as being not yet borne, were to suffer, even to the end of the world: all this I suffered in the inferiour faculties of my Soule. And in each of these was I more inwardly and grievously tormented in my Spirit, than any one could be in his owne proper body, at such time as hee is to suffer tortures or tor­ments.

Another cause which pro­cured so great paine in my Spirit, was abundant love. For love begetteth griefe and heavinesse in the spirit: So as, by how much thy love towards me was more inten­sive or greater, by so much [Page 20] more is thy soule tormented with my Death and Passion. And because I have alwaies and above comparison loved thee, and every man, more than hee can love himselfe, therefore have I suffered greater paine than all that which any one hath ever suf­fered upon earth, or was to suffer, or shall suffer to the end of the world. Thou knowest, that when Paul had consented to the death and stoning of Stephen, and did persecute Christians, I said unto him, Saul, Why persecu­test thou me? And yet he per­secuted not me in my owne proper person, but in the persons of my beloved friends; because what good or evill soever befalleth my [Page 21] friends, befalle [...]h me. And this proceedeth from the great love which I beare un­to men. Thus therefore maist thou consider, how and by what meanes my Pas­sion exceeded in paine the passions of all that ever suffe­red, or shall suffer, because I suffered both in my Body and Soule, and that immacu­late, and by nature delicate, and for so long time, to wit, for thirty foure yeeres did I suffer martyrdom in my Spi­rit, both for my selfe and all my Elect. Laurence in one night was broyled on a grid­iron; Bartholomew in one day was slaine; Katherine in one houre was broken on a Wheele, &c. All these tor­tures never hurt any one of [Page 22] them so much in their owne bodies, as they tormented me in my Soule, for thirty foure yeeres. Whence Isay, Truly he hath suffered for our infirmi­ties, and borne our sorrowes. And therefore, I could never laugh, but often weepe, ap­pearing as one of forty yeeres, when I was scarce thirty. Which came to passe, by reason of the continuall Justice, which I incessantly bore for my Passion that was to come, and the suffering of my Elect, which I alwaies clearly beheld, and painful­ly suffered by strength of imagination. Whereupon I oftimes said unto my Father, Many are my grones: and my heart is sorrowfull. To thee likewise doe I say, that thou [Page 23] maist bee moved with com­passion and affection towards mee, that my life is waxen old with heavinesse, and my yeeres with mourning.

Surely, O my good Jesu, as I have heard and under­stood, no conceit can suffi­ciently apprehend the depth of those anguishes and sor­rowes of thy most holy Soule, nor griefes and passi­ons of thy Body. But a very deepe question doth trouble my mind, to wit, how heavi­nesse, paine, or anguish could befall thy blessed soule, seeing it was alwaies in great joy through Contemplation of thy Divinitie, which was so amiable to behold, that if the damned in Hell could but behold the amiable counte­nance [Page 24] of God, as the blessed Spirits doe in the Kingdome of Heaven; they could bee tormented by no griefe, nor heavinesse, either by the fire of hell, or sight of the De­vils in hell.

It is true, that my pure and blessed soule was glori­fied, albeit my Body was mortall. For my Soule, from the very instant of her con­ception, and ever after, even when I was upon the Crosse, was asO Sacred­Secret my­stery, requi­ring of us no curious discussion, but serious devotion! glorious, and in as great joy and delight, in re­spect of her superiour faculties, as she is at this day in heaven, sitting at the right hand of God my Father. But in re­spect of her inferiour faculties, she was in a continuall and incessant heavinesse, and sor­row [Page 25] for the causes aforesaid. Which could not bee by course or order of Nature, that in one and the selfe-same soule together, and at once, there should be so great joy, and so great heavinesse, for this was miraculous and su­pernaturall. Because, accor­ding to the course of nature, joy and delight doe expell sorrow and griefe, so as they cannot suffer together in one and the selfe-same soule. And to the end, thou maist more clearely understand these things, I would have thee to know, that the Source and Fountaine of all my sor­rowes, was that high and in­effable divine dispensation, whereby it was forbid mee, that the influence of my glo­rie, [Page 26] and fruition thereof, which were in the superiour faculties of my Soule, should redound to the inferiour, for otherwise shee had felt no sorrow. But because this in­fluence was by the divine di­spensation prohibited mee, therefore did I at once per­fectly enjoy all joy, according to the Superiour faculties, and perfectly suffer and become most vehemently afflicted, ac­cording to the Inferiour fa­culties. And thus miracu­lously hath the power of my Father, joyned anguish with greatest sweetnesse, and highest power with lowest weaknesse. Because that this influence prohibited me, was altogether repugnant to the course of Nature. For [Page 27] naturall it is, and according to the course of Nature, that the Superiour powers or facul­ties redound to the inferiour, and the Inferiour have im­pression in the Superiour. And by how much this Dispensa­tion was more wonderfull, by so much was my sorrow more sharpe and dolefull. Thou art to know also, that I kept my naturall strength during my Passion, even to the point of death. Whereby it followeth, that my Passion was more dolorous.

Surely, hee is worthy of death, who refuseth to live to thee, my LORD JESU, who laidst down thy life for us. Yea, though alive, yet he isHe is dead in trespasses who liveth not in the re­membrance of Christs Passion, by washing his precious wounds with pious teares of holy com­passion. dead, who in the remem­brance of thy most bitter [Page 28] continuall Passion, and repre­sentation of thy Crucifying, beareth not thy pricks in his body, by sharpnesse of re­pentance: and upon the altar of his heart, crucifieth not himselfe for thee, by making a Crosse for himselfe to re­presse carnall delights.

He that will come after mee, let him deny himselfe, and take up his Crosse dayly, and follow me.

O Jesu, the power of God, and the wisdome of God, give me the understan­ding of these words.

In these my words, I have proposed three things to a reasonable man, made to the Image of God; to wit, Three [...]n­gular pre­cepts of Christian imitation. Servitude, Lowlinesse, Sharp­nesse. Servitude is implyed in [Page 29] denying himselfe: Lowlinesse, in bearing of my Crosse: Sharpnesse, in imitation of mee. That hee, who by diso­bedience fell from the state of a threefold felicity, might rise againe by Obedience, being humbled with the af­fliction of a threefold misery. For he had fallen from him­selfe, from society of the An­gels, from the sight of God, that is, from Dignity, Liberty, Felicity. Let him therefore heare my counsell, that by denying himselfe, Christs counsell. that is, his owne proper will, hee may regaine his owne Liberty; by taking up his Crosse, that is, by chusing to bee contemned, and disvalued by others, hee may regaine the Angels society: By following me, that is, by [Page 30] imitating the steps of my Passion, by chastising of his flesh, he may regaine the sight of my glory.

Truly, it is meet and right, yea necessary, that they suffer with thee, who will reigne with thee, that they imitate thee, who will enjoy thee.

Happy is this sentence of thine owne mouth. Happy, yea three and fourefold hap­py is he, who alwaies consi­dereth how strait and nar­row, how bitter and sharpe the way is, which leadeth to life, when it behoued me to suffer, that I might enter in­to my glory. If I bought my owne glory at so high a rate: Who shall have it altogether freely, and for nothing? [Page 31] Therefore, there is no other way, by which thou canst come to the heavenly re­ward, but by labours and affli­ctions. That Rich man, who chastised not himselfe with labours of repentance in this world, is now in eternall paine in hell. But the Poore man, with the dolour and la­bour of this miserable life, hath purchased a crowne of eternall glory.

Woe is mee, that I am al­lured with the sweetnesse of carnall delights, and decei­ved with the vanity of secu­lar joyes; when as I ought to imitate thee, whom I read to have oft sorrowed and la­mented, but once in Spirit to have rejoyced. Mary thy Virgin-Mother once rejoy­ced [Page 32] in a So [...]g. O how of­ [...]en hath the sword of sorrow gone thorow her Soule! Iohn, thy forerunner, Paterne and Preacher of repentance, rejoyced once in his mothers wombe, but how often may wee well beleeve that hee la­mented after his comming from her wombe?

When I hung upon the Crosse, I promised Paradise to none, but one that was upon the Crosse. Such are upon the Crosse, who cruci­ [...]ie their flesh, with the vices and concupiscences thereof. Upon the Crosse also I pray­ed onely for such as sinned negligently, not for such as sinned wittingly. For so long as they are such sinners, they are excluded from the [Page 33] embraces of me that was cru­cified; who with hands spred upon the Crosse, em­braced all, for whom I suffe­red. If thou wilt therefore ascend after me, and reigne in heaven with mee, thou must follow mee by the way of the The way by the Crosse, is the way to the Crown [...]. Crosse, by which I have en­tred into my glory. Look for no easier way; in the way w^ch I have gone before thee, thou must follow. For if thou stray from my steps, thou shalt perish. Attend diligently, that thou maist know, by what way thou maist ascend into Heaven. At such time as I came into the World, I descended by aThe Chri­stians Lad­der, condu­cting him to Christ his Saviour. Ladder that had three steps, to wit, of humility, whence it is read of me, Thou shalt finde the Babe: [Page 34] of Poverty, whence it follow­eth in the same place, Wrapped in cloaths: And of austerity, as ensueth, laid in a manger. And by these steps I afterwards returned to hea­ven. These steps mine excel­lent Apostle Paul intimateth, writing thus of me; He emp­tied himselfe, behold the step of Poverty! Taking vpon him the forme of a Servant: behold the step of Humility! becom­ming obedient even unto death: behold the step of Austerity! But whither hath this Lad­der of three steps brought mee? Heare what follow­eth. For this cause therefore hath the Lord exalted him, and given him a name which is a­bove all names. Fooles there­fore and mad-men are they, [Page 35] who would ascend up into heaven after me by a Ladder that hath steps contrary to these; to wit, by Richesse, Delights, and Honours. Surely, this Ladder leadeth to Hell, as the first did to Heaven.

It is a great shame for the servant to bee feasting and idling, while his Master is suffering and labouring.

Whosoever devoutly me­ditateth of this my Passion, cannot but bee ashamed to follow the pleasure of the flesh. The memory of my crucifying, crucifie [...]h all vices. In the paines of my Passion, all the delights of the flesh, and of the world are condemned: which, if thou wouldest subdue with­out difficulty, thou must de­voutly [Page 36] remember my Passion, and sweetly delighting thy selfe in it, sincerely cleave to my wounds; yea, if thou wouldst foile and resist the Devill, who especially pur­sueth and persecuteth the religious, and restraine him from annoying thee, thou oughtest dayly and devoutly to remember my Passion. But necessary it is, that they imprint the example and fi­militude of my Crucifying in their manners, who im­print the signe of my Crosse for their defence in their foreheads; that by his Law they may bee formed, by whose Faith they are armed. For otherwise, he disloyally beareth the stampe of his King, whose will he doth not [Page 37] observe. Neither doth hee rightly protect himselfe with his signe, whose command he doth not obey.

O good Jesu, vouchsafe to bestow on my hearing a fuller joy, by recounting to mee thy most unworthy Sin­ner, the rest of those bene­fits and fruits, arising from the dayly remembrance of thy most holy Passion.

The memory of my death, by a dayly ruminating there­of, ought to burne upon the altar of thy mind, for many reasons.

First, because thou canst doe nothing more accep­table unto mee, than to ex­ercise thine heart in my most holy Passion, with love, compassion, reverence, and [Page 38] imitation. Whereof thou canst not doubt, being assu­red thereof by many autho­rities of holy Scripture. Wherefore I doe advise thee to stamp my painfull love, and loving paine in thy soule, and to be thankfull un­to me, saying:The Chri­stians Signet with his Posie. Set me, as a signet, upon thine heart: As if he should say, Love mee, as I love thee. Remember not onely how great things I have done for thee, but how sharpe and unworthy things I have suffered for thee, and see if thou doest not give mee an ill requitall, if thou doest not love mee. For tell mee, who loves thee as I doe? Who desireth to be loved of thee, as I doe? Set me, therefore, as a signet upon [Page 39] thine heart, that thou maist love me with all thy strength: upon thine arme, that thou maist performe those things which please mee with all thine affection: upon thine heart, that whatsoever is deare unto thee, thou maist set aside for me, and alwaies preferre me, and alwaies more and more love me.

Secondly, thou oughtst continually to remember my Passion, because by it thou art led by the hand to the love of God. For by my Passion, I have shewne to thee the quantity of my af­fection. And love deser­veth love againe. Under­stand what I say; I would not reedeme man with praier, for so oft times man freeth [Page 40] man from captivity. Nor with the price of gold and silver: for so sheep and Oxen are bought: but with the price of my bloud, that by the price of the thing bought, my love might bee weighed. Do not therfore dis-esteeme thy worth: consider oft times thy price. If I had re­deemed man with gold or sil­ver, it might have beene thought, that the soule of man had beene comparable [...] to temporall riches. That which is redeemed, is more precious than that by which it is redeemed: Therefore the soule of man is more pre­cious than my bloud.

Thirdly, [...]or stirring of devotion; Whence it was that Sampson found an Ho­neycombe [Page 41] in the mouth of a dead Li [...]n. I am the Lion of the Tribe of Iud [...], in whose death the honeycombe of de­votion is found, wherewith the spirit of man is refreshed. O that thou wouldst seriously consider, how upon the Crosse my mouth appeared like one halfe-alive, open, and my tongue bloudy; surely, if thou hadst an heart of iron, it would have melted with compassion and devo­tion.

The fourth fruit arising from the memory of my Pas­sion is, that in it is found a guard of defence against all Enemies. Whereupon my Apostle Peter; Christ suffered for you, arme your selves likewise with the same mind. And I say; [Page 42] Enter into the rocke. As a Souldier, who unable to withstand his enemy in the field, flyeth to his Tents. Briefly, theMed [...]tati­on of Christs Sacred Pas­sion, a so­veraigne re­ceit against Satans temp­tation. Enemy shall prevaile nothing against him, whom the daily exercise of my Passion doth delight.

The fifth is, because with no exercise is man so much enriched as with my merits, applied to him, and made his, by the hand of faith; for the foundation of all grace, and the root of merit, (as it hath sole relation to me, and derived to man by Faith in me) consisteth in the sorrow of heart and body, for my Crosse. For this cause mine Elect Apostle said; I have esteemed my selfe to know no­thing, but JESUS CHRIST, [Page 43] and him crucified. And that devout sonne of my blessed mother, Bernard, A Chri­stians Philo­sophie. It is my highest philosophy (said hee) to know CRIST JESUS, and him Crucified. But thou oughtst to grieve, because there are many enemies of my Crosse. For the lovers of pleasures are my persecu­tours; they are guilty of my death, not as authors or fautors, but as contemners [...] my death: These are they, who make the merit of my Passion in them of no effect; who make themselves un­worthy of mine heavenly blessing, & unspeakable glory: who living in their delights, laugh at the mysterie of my Passion; who tread mee the Sonne of God under their [Page 44] feet, and lay reproach upon the Spirit of Grace. A car­nall life is an injury unto God, contempt of my Crosse, and redoundeth to the con­tumely of all the blessed Tri­nitie.

The sixt is, the allaying of the labours and dolours en­countring man in his way of repentance, and life of Reli­gion. For a devout faithfull Souldier hath no feeling of his owne wounds, when hee seeth the wounds of his lo­ving Captaine. And to this end have I contemned all earthly goods, that I might shew how they were to bee contemned: and sustained all adverse things, that I might teach how they were to bee sustained.

[Page 45]The seventh is, the extin­guishing of carnall desires: for with the sight of my Pas­sion, whatsoever is carnal [...] decreaseth.

The eighth is, the stirring of compunction and repen­tance for sinues. For who is he that grieveth not highly, when he recals to mind how his sinnes were so odious to God the Father, that for ta­king them away, he would have his beloved Sonne cru­cified and put to death?

The ninth is, the beget­ting of good hope and con­sidence: For in my Crosse the Sinner hath his Sanctuary, as a murderer flying for re­fuge to the Church-yard. Nothing is so bitter even unto death, which may not [Page 46] be cured by my death: I have changed the sentence of thy eternall punishment, into the crucifying of my Body, sub­ject to a dolorous languish­ment. For I, in that sen­tence which Pilat pronoun­ced against me, taking upon me, the person of all Sinners, to purge their sins wherein they had long laboured, was adjudged to death for all Sinners.

I conceive and contem­plate by this which thou (my good Jesu) hast said, that albeit this sentence was very unjust, and there­fore execrable in respect of thee, because man had no power over God, the wicked over the just: yet in respect of us, it was manifold com­mon [Page 47] modious and profitable: and the reason hereof is amiable and venerable; because hee wholly reversed that sentence pronounced upon the first man, for sinne. For the sen­tence of a dolefull exclusion was denounced against him. Whence it is written, The Lord cast out man from the Pa­radise of pleasure, and set an An­gell to keepe the way of the tree of life. But happy and honou­rable was thy sentence, be­cause [...] called back a ba­nish'd man, for by this sen­tence the Sonne for the ser­vant was injuriously cast out of his inheritance, by the husbandmen of the Vineyard, the Law of Moses. Therefore thy Apostle saith, That Jesus might sanctifie us, hee suffered [Page 48] without the gate. And well it was that he suffered without, that he might bring us back againe to within: for we have entrance by his bloud. But I beseech thee (most loving Jesu) from the very inward affection of mine heart, by those paines, with which, as with most sharp arrowes, thy most sweet heart was pier­ced, and those of the Virgin thy blessed Mother, at the hearing of that sentence of thycondemnation; that I may deserve through thy merits, to be delivered in the houre of my death, and the last day of judgement, from thatsharp and terrible word of the sen­tence of eternall damnation, which thou wilt thunder out against the reprobates: [Page 49] Depart from me yee cursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the Devill and his angels.

Happy is he, from whose memory the last judgement never departeth, that by the feare thereof, hee may pre­serve his life from naughti­nesse and pleasure of the flesh. For surely, that judgement is highly to be feared, wher­in all things are made mani­fest without witnesses, where the Hoast of all the An­gels and Saints shall stand round about,The terror of the last judgement. and every crea­ture shall tremble with ex­ceeding feare, before my Tri­bunall seat. What will they say then, who in this short time have lived negligently and carelesly? Meane time I expect you patiently, and in­vite [Page 50] you all to my kingdome lovingly. Time will come, when I shall require an ac­count of you, for this your negligence, and shall say unto you, ‘For you am I made crooked, for you (I say) am I made crooked upon the earth, for you am I scour­ged, for you with spittings defiled, for you is my face buffeted, for you am I un­justly condemned, for you am I crucified, for you up­on wood am I hanged, with gall am I fed, and with vi­negar quenched, that I might make you all Saints eternally crowned. I have called you all my Brethren, I have offered you to my Father, I have sent you my holy Spirit, I have promi­sed [Page 51] sed to you Paradise. What should I have done more, and I have not done it, that ye might be saved? Tell me ye Sinners: What have yee suffered for me your gover­nour, who when I was just, suffered so great things for your sakes?’ These truly shall bee demands proper for that day of judgement.

Alas, miserable wretch that I am, what shall I say, or what shall I doe, when I shall not bee able to shew ought that is good before so great a Judge?

Amend thy life, while time is: change thy man­ners, overcome evill temp­tations by resisting, punish sinnes committed by lamen­ting. Let thy sinne find thee [Page 52] here a punisher, that thou maist find me there no Judge but a Saviour.

If thou doest these things faithfully and with constant affiance,A most comfortable Conclusion. thou shalt bee secure in the terrible day of ven­geance. Neither let the greatnesse of thy sinnes ter­rifie thee: for I am much more mercifull, than thou art finfull. Surely great is thy misery, but infinite is my mercy. If thou bee asin­full man, I am the Lamb of GOD, that taketh away the sins of the world: who came not to call the just, but sinners. In a word, more mercy and love shalt thou finde in mee, than thou darest either hope for, or wish for.

A FAMILIAR Expostulation of the Flesh, to GOD the Father, [...]ouching CHRIST. By [...] Booke en [...]led Stimulus Amoris. Cap. XIV.

GIve eare, how the Flesh lifteth up the Soule against the Spirit, contempla­tively raised, yea even against Christ. For, saith the Flesh: [Page 52] [...] [Page 53] [...] [Page 54] I preferre my complaint to thee God the Father, just and of infinite mercy, touching thy Sonne; beseeching thee, that thy justice would consi­der the injury done mee, and that thy mercy would con­descend to my misery. This thy Sonne full of knowledge and power, hath circumven­ted me by his wisdome, and [...] violence by his power. This thy Sonne by his wisdome cloathing him­selfe with flesh, became like unto mee, and by his too much humilitie and ineffable benignitie, craftily entred in upon me: He became more humble than all, hee became despicable to all, hee tooke upon him the necessities of all, he bore the infirmities of [Page 55] all, he vouchsafed to be most cruelly crucified for all, to be afflicted as well with com­passion, as in his most grie­vous passion, through meere affection to all, to expresse the love of his heart, by the opening of his side, and from thence to derive those Sacraments which gave re­medy to all mankinde. What should I say more? Hee hath ordained his flesh for meat,Mat. 26. his bloud for drink, and pro­mised himselfe for a reward, inasmuch as he girded him­selfe, and being to depart thence, ministred to such as eat at thy table.Luke 12. By all these meanes, and many others, which I neither know, nor am able to declare, hath hee not onely wondrously allu­red [Page 56] my Soule, deputed to the support and comfort of mee, but by entring in unto her, hath so highly drawne her by his power, and so joynd her unto him by his de­lights, as now shee cares not at all for mee, but rather af­flicts, dejects, treads downe, and vilifies mee; and that which seemes grievouser than all things else, she loves those that lay this disgrace on me, remembring him or them more especially in her prayer, who inferre these in­juries on me; and if none as yet be done mee, shee desires that hereafter they may bee done me. Thus am I morti­fied, and she cares not; Thus lye I grovelling in mud, and shee rejoyceth: Yea, it is the [Page 57] very highest pitch of her de­sire, to see my sorrow with new sorrow multiplied, that my sorrow might bee more sensibly conceived. This seemes to bee her glorie to bring injuries, contumelies, and whatsoever is worst up­on me. Thus leaves shee mee desolate and afflicted; meane time, it is her desire to re­maine still with thy Sonne, still to bee fed with his flesh, made drunk with his bloud, and wheresoever he is, to be ever with him. Now she ap­peareth like a small tender infant with him in the man­ger; now she embraceth him in the armes of the blessed Virgin; now is she nourished with him, with the milke of the Virgin. Now she hungers [Page 58] with him, now shee thirsts with him, now is shee spit upon with him, now is shee wounded with him, now is shee sorrowfull upon the Crosse with him, now with thee in heaven rejoyceth she with him, shee is comforted with him; wheresoever hee goe, shee goes with him, shee cannot endure to bee from him, shee can intend herselfe to nought without him: What shall I say to thee, O Father, touching thy Sonne, who hath made my soule gi­ven unto me, so drunke with his love, and thus estrang'd her from mee? If hee hath robb'd mee, thou maist com­mand restitution to be made me. Neither seemes it to me a small injury, thus to de­prive [Page 59] me of this precious and inestimable jewell of my mind. For why doth my soule appointed for me, only love thy Sonne; why doth she thus hate mee, why relin­quisheth shee all things con­cerning me? Behold, how she swallowed up with the incomparable love of thy Sonne, walketh as one with­out sense; now there is nought else shee heareth, nought else shee thinketh, or tasteth, nought else shee smelleth, being alwaies desi­rous to rest in his armes. There is shee joyed, there is she cheered, there abundant­ly delighted, there, made drunke with too much love, is shee lodged. Neither is it to be wondred at, if this my [Page 60] Soule cleave so constantly to thy Sonne: Because, unlesse she were harder than stone, and more insensible than iron, seeing thy Sonne hath done such great things for her, she can doe no lesse than this for him. Yea, where is that stone so hard which would not rend with the heat of so great love, yea melt like wax, if all these aforesaid benefits should be done it? I doe not then complaine to thee, O most benigne Father of my Soule, for that shee hath done no more than she ought: but of thy Sonne, who hath so for­cibly allured her with the be­nefits of his mercy, and by that meanes left mee in so great misery.

An Answer of the Father to the Flesh. Cap. XV.

ATtend and hearken, what answer this most gracious Father makes to the Flesh. Forasmuch as thou art my creature, I will shew thee Justice with Mercie. Whereas then thou wert or­dained to bee the Soules Hand-maid, yet hadst ever a desire to play the Mistresse, and demeaning thy selfe al­waies inordinatly, hast cau­sed her to serve thee and not mee, by making her prone unto all evill, and which is [Page 62] worse, hast subjected her, who was made after my image, to the bondage of Satan. Thou, I say, who hast made her worse than any brute beast, being by thee defiled and ab­ [...]ominably polluted, yea, a­bove all darknesse blackned, and so much altered, as I can­not know that noble crea­ture stamped and formed to so glorious a feature: Need­full it was then, because I lo­ved her so much that was in­closed in thy Flesh, that my Sonne should take Flesh upon him, that so hee might allure her to his and my love. And because the Soule by cleaving to thee, her Flesh was become dead, it was my will that my Sonne who became Flesh should be slaine for her, that [Page 63] she might be quickned. Nei­ther was this in my Sonne any circumvention or decei­ving, but mine and his inef­fable vouchsafing. And be­cause thou, O Flesh, hast done evilly ever from thy first infusion, but my Sonne hath beene inflamed towards thy Soule with exceeding affecti­on, and hath wholly given himselfe up for her redemp­tion, therefore my justice exacteth many things, espe­cially, that I wholly and to­tally resigne her unto him, and that shee abhorre thee more than dung, and that she desire that thou maist bee abhorred of all. But foras­much as thou hast be sought not onely my Iustice but Mercy; it is my will that [Page 64] thou in some measure bee re­freshed with that present sweetnesse which thy Soule feeleth in my Sonne; yea more than all this, I will hereafter endow thee most nobly and most perfectly: and if thou beest truly obedi­ent to thy Soule, from hence­forth deliver thee from eter­nall punishment, and bring thee to an inheritance glo­riously permanent, where I live eternally resident.

A pithy Meditation upon this Expostula­tion and Answer, to in­flame the Soule with a devout fervour.

IS it so, O my Soule, that shee, whom thou hast so daintily cockred, with whom thou hast so familiarly con­versed, and to whom thou hast so easily consented, is thy domestick Enemy, and by so much more fearfull because domesticall? Chastise her whō thou hast cherished, estrange thee from her, with whom thou hast so freely consorted, incline not to her, to whose advice thou hast so freely condescended. It is Ismael [Page 66] that playeth with thee; who, whilest she playes with thee, playes upon thee. Looke up­on that gracious Shepherd, who hath sought thee; fix thine eye upon that precious price, with which he bought thee. The worth of the whole world comes farre short of the worth of that price; be it then thine highest honour to advance his praise. Let no sinne soile that image which is so richly beautified: Let no cloud obscure that light which was so freely be­stowed. Hee that tooke on him Flesh for thee, hee that in his Flesh suffered so much for thee, hee that gave him­selfe to gaine thee, and shew'd himselfe so truly [Page 67] thine to retaine thee: Let him solely and wholly have thee. Suffer not thy Flesh to converse with thee, till she become a true Convert in the practice of piety. Better is it for thee by contempt of thy Flesh to augment thine owne honour, than by obe­dience to thy Flesh to pro­cure thy dishonour. Short is the Fight, but great is the Conquest. Recoile not; for thou hast him for thy Imperator noster Chri­stus eum ho­stem vicit, qui adhuc omnes Impe­ratores stra­vit. Miscell. Theor. Itin. Chiefetaine, who hath van­quish'd that foe, who, to this houre, hath given all Chiefe­taines the foile. Fight va­liantly then under his ban­ner; embrace all contempts for his honour. Erect the eye of thy Faith to Heaven, while thou directest thy feet [Page 68] on Earth, that after thy well-past pilgrimage on Earth, thou maist bee re­warded with a lasting in­heritance in Heaven.

Amen.

GENERALL Rules of living well.

EVery day drawest thou nearer than other to Death, Judgement, and Eternity. Bethinke then with thy selfe every day, how thou maist stand in the severe discussion of death and judg­ment, and how thou maist eternally live. Thou art to [Page 70] take an exact account of all thy thoughts, words and deeds, because an exact ac­count is to be given of all thy thoughts, words and deeds. Thinke every evening, that death is that night approa­ching: Thinke every mor­ning, that death is that day accoasting. Deferre not thy conversion, nor the perfor­mance of any good action till to morrow, because to mor­row is uncertaine, but death is ever certainly waiting. There is nothing that hin­ders piety more than delay. If thou contemne the in­ward calling of the holy Spi­rit, thou shalt never come to true conversion. Doe not defer thy conversion, nor the practice of any religious acti­on [Page 71] to thy old age; but offer unto God the flower of thy youth: Uncertaine is old age to the young, but cer­taine destruction attendeth him that dieth impenitently young. There is no Age more fit for the service of God, than youth, flourishing in abilities both of body and mind. For no mans sake oughtst thou to take in hand an evill action; for not that man w^ch thou so respectedst, but God in whose brest all the treasures of wisdome are stored, shall in the end judge thy life: Doe not then preferre any mans favour be­fore the honour of thy Ma­ker. In the way of the Lord wee either increase or decrease: Take examination [Page 72] then of thy life every day, whether in the practice of piety thou increasest or de­creasest. To stand in the way of the Lord is to goe back. Let it not then delight thee to stand in the course of pie­ty, but endevour alwaies to walke in the way of the Lord. In thy conversation bee cheerefull to all, distastefull to none, familiar to few: Live to Godward devoutly, to thy selfe chastly, to thy Neighbour justly. Use thy friend as a pledge of affecti­on, thine enemy for a triall of thy patience, all men to a well-disposed benevolence, and wherein thou maist more effectually worke to beneficence. While thou livest, dye dayly to thy selfe [Page 73] and to thy vices; So in thy death maist thou live to God. Let meekenesse appeare in thy affection, mildnesse in thy countenance, humility in thy habit, modesty in thy habitation, patience in tri­bulation. Let facility be in thine accesse, decency in thy dresse, humility in thy pre­sence, affability in thy dis­course, benignity in thy wayes, charity in thy works. Let constancy be in thine eie, content in thy chest, tempe­rance in thy cup. Observe mo­deration in thy desires, discre­tion in thy delights. Think al­waies of those 3. things past, Evil committed, Good omit­ted, Time mis-spēded. Think alwaies of these 3. things pre­sent: [...]he shortnes of this pre­sent [Page 74] life, the difficulty of be­ing saved, the fewnesse of those that are to be saved. Think alwayes of these three things to come, Death, than w^ch nothing is more horrible; Judgement, than which no­thing is more terrible; the paine of Hell, than which no­thing more intolerable. Let thine Evening Prayers re­deeme the sinnes of the fore­past day; let the last day of the weeke reforme the offen­ces of the dayes gone before. Thinke in the Evening, how many soules are that same day thrown head-long into Hell; and give thankes unto God, for that hee hath given thee time to repent in. There be three things above thee, which ought never to de­part [Page 75] from thy memory: That Eye which seeth all things, that Eare which heareth all things, and those bookes wherein all things are recor­ded. Wholly hath God com­municated himselfe to thee; communicate thy selfe like­wise wholly to thy neigh­bour. That is the best life, which is wholly employed to the behoofe and benefit of others. Render to thy su­periour obedience and reve­rence, to thy equall counsell and assistance, to thy inferi­our succour & supportance. Let thy body be subjected to thy mind, and thy mind to God. Bewaile thy evils past, disesteeme thy goods pre­sent, covet with all the desire of thine heart those goods [Page 76] to come. Remember thy sin, that thou maist grieve: Re­member thy death, that thou maist cease from sinne: Re­member Gods justice, that thou maist feare: Remember Gods mercy, lest thou de­spaire. Withdraw thy selfe as much as thou canst, from the World, and devote thy selfe wholly to the service of God: Thinke alwayes, how chastity is endangerd by deli­cacy, humility by prosperity, and piety by employments transitory. Desire to please none but Christ: feare to displease none but Christ. Beseech God alwayes, that as he bids what he would, so he would doe what hee bids: that hee would protect what is done, and direct in what [Page 77] is to bee done: Endevour thy selfe to bee what thou wouldst have thy self thought to be; for God judgeth not according to the outward semblance, but according to the inward substance. In thy discourse beware of much speech, because account shall be required of every vaine word. Whatsoever thy works bee, they passe not a­way, but as certaine seeds of eternity, are they bestowed: if thou sow according to the flesh, from the flesh shalt thou reape corruption: if thou sow after the Spirit, from the Spirit shalt thou reap the reward of eternall retri­bution. After death, nei­ther shall the honours of this World follow thee, nor [Page 78] heaps of riches favour thee, nor pleasures enjoy thee, nor the vanities of this World possesse thee, but after the fatall and full period of this life all thy works shall follow thee. As then thou desirest to appeare in the day of judge­ment, appeare such in the sight of God at this present. Thinke not with thy selfe what thou hast, but rather what thou wantst: Pride not thy selfe for that which is given thee, but rather be­come humbled for that which is deni'd thee. Learne to live now while thou maist live. In this time is eternall life either got or lost. After death there remains no time for working, for then begins the time of rewarding: In [Page 79] the life to come is not ex­pected any worke, but pay­ment for the worke. Holy Meditation may beget in thee knowledge, knowledge compunction, compunction devotion, devotion may pro­duce prayer. Great good for peace of the heart, is the si­lence of the mouth: By how much more as thou art divi­ded from the World, so much more acceptable art thou unto God. Whatsoever thou desirest to have, aske it of God; whatsoever thou already hast, attribute it to God: He is not worthy to receive more, who is not thankfull for what he hath received: Then stops the course or current of Gods grace to man, when man [Page 80] makes no recourse by thank­fulnesse to God: Whatsoe­ver befals thee, turne it to good; so often as prosperity comes upon thee, thinke how occasion of blessing and praising God is ministred unto thee; againe so often as adversity a [...]ayles thee, thinke how these are ad­monitions for the repen­tance and conversion of thee. Shew the force of thy power in helping, the force of thy wisdome in instructing, the force of thy wealth in relee­ving. Neither let Adversity bruise thee, nor Prosperity raise thee: Let Christ be thy scope of thy life, whom thou art to follow here in the way, that thou maist come to him there in thy countrey. [Page 81] Amongst all other things, let profound humility, & ardent Charity be thy greatest care. Let charity raise thine heart unto God, that thou maist cleave unto him: Let humili­ty depresse thine heart, les [...] thou becom proud & so leave him. Esteem God a Father for his clemency, a Lord for his discipline; a Father for his sweet power, a Lord for his severe power; Love him as a Father devoutly, feare him as a Lord necessarily: Love him because he will have mercy: Feare him, because he will not suffer sin. Feare the Lord, and trust in him; acknowledge thy misery, and declare his mercy. O God, thou who hast given us to will, give us likewise to performe.

THE SORROWFULL Soules solace, Gathered from Saint Augustine in his Tract Upon the 62. Psalme, Upon these words.

BEhold here how the Soule thirsteth; and see how good it is for the Soule that thirsteth; to wit, be­cause [Page 83] shee thirsteth after thee. There are who thirst, but not after God. Every one that would in his owne behalfe have ought performed, is in heat of desire, till he have it effected; and this desire is the thirst of the Soule. Now see what various desires are in the hearts of men: One desireth gold, another silver, one desireth possessions, ano­ther inheritances, one store of money, another stock of cattle▪ one a faire house, ano­ther a wife, one honours, an­other children. You see these desires, how they are in the hearts of men. All men thirst after one desire or o­ther, yet can there scarce one be found, who may say, My Soule hath thirsted after thee. [Page 84] For men thirst after this World, and they understand not how they are in the wil­dernesse of Idumaea, where their soule ought to thirst after God. Let us therfore say, My Soule hath thi [...]sted af­ther thee; Let us all say, (for wee are all but one Soule in our fellowship with (Christ:) Let this our soule thirst in Idumaea: My Soule (saith he) hath thirsted after thee, and my Flesh hath longed sore for thee. He held it too little for the Soule onely to thirst, but that his Flesh should thirst. Now I would know, seeing the Soule thirsteth after God, how the Flesh may be said to thirst after God: For when the Flesh thirsteth, it thirsteth after water; when the Soule thir­steth, [Page 85] shee thirsteth after the fountaine of Wisdome; of which fountaine our Soules shall bee made drunke, as is said in another Psalme, They shall bee satisfied with the plen­teousnesse of thy house: Psal. 36. and thou shalt give them drink of thy plea­sures, as out of thy river.

We are then to thrist after wisdome, to thirst after righteousnesse. Nor shall we be satisfied with this, nor filled with that, till this our fraile life shall be ended, and we come to that which God hath promised. For God hath promised to make us e­quall with the Angels. Now the Angels thirst not as wee doe, nor hunger as wee doe, but partake of the food of truth, the food of light of [Page 86] immortall wisdome. There­fore are they blessed: And in so great blessednesse (be­ing in that heavenly City of Hierusalem, from which we are here as Aliens) they take care of us poore pilgrims, they commiserate us, and by Gods appointment they as­sist us, that at last we may re­turne to our common Coun­trey, & there at last with them be satisfied with that divine fountaine of truth & eterni­ty. Wherefore let our Soule now thirst, & let our flesh also thirst eagerly. Yea My flesh (saith he) longeth after thee: because to our flesh, is resur­rection promised by thee. E­ven as blessednesse is promi­sed to our soule: so also is resurrection promised to [Page 87] our flesh. Such is the Re­surrection of the flesh which is promised unto us. Heare, learne, and under­stand what may be the hope of Christians. For what end are we Christians? Not to this end are wee Christians, that we should seeke earthly happinesse, which even Theeves and malefactors oft­times enjoy. No, wee are Christians for another kind of happinesse, which shall be then by us received, when this our transitory life shall be ended. For this then is the Ressurection of flesh pro­mised to us. And such is the resurrection of flesh to us promised, that this same flesh which wee now carry about us, may rise in the end, and [Page 88] retaine her incorruptible glory without end. Neither let this seeme incredible un­to you, because you see the dead falling to corruption, and returning to dust and ashes. Suppose that any dead corpse should be burnt to ashes, or that dogs should teare it, doe you therefore thinke that it shall not rise againe? All these parts which you see peecemeale di­vided, and into small graines of dust resolved, remaine all whole with GOD; for into them doe the Elements of the world passe, from whence they first came, when wee were made: These wee doe not see, yet wil God, when he knowes his owne time, produce them; who before [Page 89] we were made, when his sa­cred will was, produeed us from them. Such Resurre­ction of the flesh is promised to us, that, albeit this flesh which we now carry, be the same which shall rise again, yet must it not have that cor­ruption, which it now hath. For now through the cor­ruption of our frailty, if we eat not, wee faint and hun­ger; if we drinke not, wee faint and thirst sor water; if we wake long, we faint and fall a sleep; if we sleep long, we faint and so awake; if we eat and drinke long, albeit we eat and drinke for nou­rishment, yet doth this long refection become a defection; if wee stand long, wee are weary, and therefore wee [Page 90] fit; and if we fit long, we be­come wearied, and therefore we rise. Then consider, how there is no constant state in our flesh: because our infancy flyeth away into childhood, and then if thou seeke in­fancy, there is no infancy, because it is now child­hood, which was even now infancy. Againe, that child­hood passeth into youth, and then if thou seek childhood, thou canst not find it. This youth becomes a man; and then if thou seeke that youth, hee is not to bee found. This man becomes old: thou seekst a strong man, and hee is not to be found. And this old man dyes: thou seekest an old man, and hee is not to bee [Page 91] found. Our age then stan­deth not, every where there is wearinesse, every where te­diousnesse, every where cor­ruption. Considering there­fore, what hope of resurre­ction God promiseth unto us; in these our manifold defects, we thirst after that in­corruption, and so our flesh longeth much after God. In this Idumaea, in this wildernesse, by how much she laboureth, by so much more eagerly she thirsteth; by how much she is wearied, by so much shee thirsteth after that infatigable incorruption, for which she was created. Albeit, my Brethren, the flesh of every good and faithfull Christian in this World, thirsteth after God. Because if his flesh [Page 92] need bread, if it need water, if it need wine, if it need money, or what reliefe soe­ver it need, he ought to beg for these at the hands of God, not from Devils and Idols, or what other Powers of this World, I know not. There are who when they suffer hunger in this World, leave God, and call on Mer­cury, or Iupiter, or their hea­venly Pan, as they call him, [...]r some other such like De­ [...]ils, that they would releeve [...]hem: these mens flesh thirst [...]ot after their God. For [...]hey that thirst after God, eve­ [...]y where ought to thirst both [...]n soule and flesh; because God both giveth his bread [...] the Soule, that is, the Word of truth; and God gi­veth [Page 93] to the flesh also, what­soever are necessary, because God made both the soule and the flesh. For thy flesh, thou calst upon Devils: tell me, hath God made thy soule, and the Devils made thy flesh? Hee who made thy soule, he likewise made thy flesh. Hee who made them both, he likewise feeds them both. Let both these in us thirst after God, and out of much labour be moderately refreshed, that in him, to whom we are solely devoted, we may be wholly fixed.

Mans Mutability. A Meditation extracted out of S. Augustine, in his Tract Upon the 121. Psal. Upon these words,

NOw, my Brethren, whosoever erect­eth the light of his mind, whosoe­ver laieth aside the darknesse [Page 96] of his flesh, whosoever clea­reth the eye of his heart, let him lift up and see what this It selse is. How shall I call it selfe, but it selfe? O my Bre­thren, if you can, understand what is this it selfe. For even I my selfe, if I should speake any thing else but it selfe, doe not speake it selfe; Yet doe we labour by some neere af­finities of words and signifi­cant proprieties to bring the infirmity of the mind, to me­ditate of this It selfe. What is this it selfe? That which is alwayes one and in the same manner, and not now one thing, and then another. What is then it selfe but that which is? And what is this which is? That which eter­nally is. For whatsoever is al­waies [Page 97] altering from one to another, is not, because what it is abides not: Yet not so as locally it is not, but summa­rily it is not. And what is this which is, but hee, who when he sent Moses, said unto him,Exod. 3. I AM THAT I AM? And who also said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you. Behold it selfe, I AM THAT I AM; He who IS, hath sent mee to you! But thou canst not conceive it, it is farre from thee to understand it, far from thee to apprehend it. Retaine therefore that which he was made for thee, since to con­ceive him it is farre from thee. Retaine the flesh of CHRIST, by which raised [Page 98] being sick thou maist bee re­lieved, and left halfe-dead by Theeves woūded, thou maist be to an Inne conducted, and cured. Let us then runne to the house of the Lord, and come to the City, where our feet may stand in the gates; that City which is builded as a City, that is compact together in it selfe. It selfe is this where­of it is said,Psal. 101. Thou art the same, and thy yeares shall not faile. Behold it selfe, Whose yeares shall not faile! Brethren, doe not our yeares daily faile and fade in the yeare? For those yeares which are come are not now, and those which are to come are not yet. Now are these failed which are come, and those shall faile which are to come. Houres [Page 99] past bee already gone, and houres to passe are not yet come, & when they are come they likewise shall passe, and faile. What be those yeeres which do not faile, but those which stand? If yeares then doe there stand, those yeares which stand is one yeare; and that one yeare which stands, is one day: because that one day hath neither rising nor setting, neither begun from yesterday, nor excluded from to morrow, but standeth al­wayes the same day. And whatsoever thou wilt, thou maist call this day; if thou wilt, they are yeares; if thou wilt, it is a day: thinke what thou wilt, yet it standeth. For this City partakes of stability, being compact toge­ther [Page 100] in it selfe. Worthily then, because it becomes partaker of this stability, doth he say who runneth thither; Our feet were standing in thy Courts, O Ierusalem. For all things doe there stand, where no­thing passeth: Wilt thou then stand there, and not passe? Runne thither. None hath It selfe of himselfe. At­tend Brethren: Hee hath a body, but this is not it selfe, be­cause it stands not in it selfe. It is changed by ages, it is changed by removes of places and times, it is changed by corporall diseases and de­fects; therefore it stands not in itselfe. Heavenly bodies do not stand in themselves, for they have their certaine changes, though secret: cer­tainly [Page 101] are these changed from place to place, they a­scend from East to West, and againe they goe about to the East. These then doe not stand, these are not It selfe. Neither doth Mans Soule stand itselfe. For with how many alterations and cogita­tions is she varied, with what pleasures is shee changed and from her selfe estranged, with what desires infected and in­fested? The very mind of man which is said to bee reason­able, is likewise mutable, it is not it selfe. Now it will, now it will not: Now it knowes, now it knowes not: now it remembers, now it forgets. None then hath It selfe of himselfe. Hee who would have had it selfe of himselfe, [Page 102] that hee might bee it selfe to himselfe, is falne. He is falne from an Angell, and become a Devill. He drunke a health to man in pride, hee threw himselfe downe by envying him who stood. He would be it selfe to themselves, have principality to themselves, dominion in themselves. They would not have the [...]rue LORD, who truly is It selfe, to whom it is said, Thou shalt change them, Psal. 102. and [...]hey shall be changed, but thou art the same. Now therefore, after [...]o long affliction, after so many diseases, difficulties, labours, let the humbled soule returne to it selfe, and be in that City, that is compact to­gether in it selfe.

Minds tranquillity. A Meditation gathered out of Saint Angustine in his Tract, upon the 147. Psal. upon these words:

WHo hath set peace in thy borders. How much have yee all rejoyced? Love this, my Brethren. Wee are much delighted, when this love of Peace cryeth from your hearts. How much hath it delighted us? [Page 104] Having as yet said nothing, expounded nothing, but on­ly pronounced this verse, yee have even cryed out. And what is it that hath cryed from you? the love of peace: what doth it present unto your eyes? Whence doe yee cry, if yee do not love? Whence doe yee love, it yee doe not see? Peace is invi­sible. Where is that Eye, by which it is seene, that it may be lov'd? Neither would it be cryed upon, unlesse it were lov'd. These are those representments of invisible things, which God exhibits unto us. With what beautie hath the conceit of Peace sei­zed on your hearts? What then shall I now speake of Peace, or of the praise of [Page 105] peace? Your affection pre­venteth all my words: I shall not performe it, I am not able to undergo it, I am too weake to doe it. Let us de­ferre all our praises of peace to that Countrey of peace. There shall wee more fully praise it, where wee shall more fully possesse it. If wee thus love peace begun in us, how much shall we praise it when perfected in us? Be­hold, this I say, my beloved Children, Children of the Kingdome, Citizens of Hie­rusalem, because in Hierusa­lem is the Vision of peace, and all those who enjoy and love peace are made blessed in it. This, which ye so much love and affect to heare named, pursue it, desire it, love it in [Page 106] your House, love it in your Businesse, love it in your Wives, love it in your Children, love it in your Servants, love it in your Friends, love it in your Enemies. This is that peace which Heretiques have not. Now what doth peace here amidst the uncertainties of this Region, in this Pilgri­mage of our mortality; where, as yet, no one is transparent to another, none seeth the heart of another, what doth peace? It judgeth not of things uncertaine, it confirmes not things un­knowne. It is apter to con­ceit well of man, than evilly to suspect him. It grieves her not much to have erred, in conceiving a good opinion [Page 107] of him that was ill-affected. But dangerous it is, to con­ceit ill of him who (per­chance) is good, not knowing how hee is disposed whom we so rashly judged. What doe I lose, if I beleeve such an one is good? If it be un­certaine whether he be evill, (albeit you are to be cautelous whether this be so,) yet are you not to condemne him as if it were so. this Peace commandeth,Psal. 33. Seeke peace, and ensue it. Heresie, what doth it teach? It condemnes those it knowes not, it con­demnes the whole World. We do now desire that peace which we have here in hope. For as yet, what peace is there in us?Galat. 5. The flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against [Page 108] the flesh. Where is there full peace in any one man? when shall it be full in any one man? Even then, when it shall be full in all the citi­zens of Hierusalem. When shall there be full peace? I Cor. 15. When this corruptible hath put on in­corruption, and this mortall hath put on immortality, then shall there be full peace, then firme peace. Nothing then con­testeth against the soule in man, shee is not against her selfe, nor in any part woun­ded; there is no frailty of the flesh, no corporall want, no hunger, no thirst, no heat, no cold, no wearinesse, no want, no provoking to wrath, nor surely any cautelous care of avoyding a foe, or affecting a friend. [Page 109] All these things, my Bre­thren, fight against us, wee have not yet full and perfect peace. In that ye have cryed, (who even now hearing the name of peace out of your de­sire to peace have cryed) this cry of yours proceeded from thirst, not from ful­nesse.

THe same Father Augu­stine, a glorious Light of the Church, a constant Champion for the truth, and a powerfull evincer of all such Errors as opposed the Truth, in his love to peace, composed likewise this sweet Meditation, to beget in every devout heart the like affection: Gathered out [Page 110] of his Tract upon the 36. Psal. Upon these words: Meeke men shall possesse the Earth, and shall have their delight in the multitude of peace. Ver. 23.

Upon which, with a pas­sionate devotion, an affecti­onate passion, hee analiseth thus: This Earth, whereof we have so often spoken, is holy Hierusalem. The Meeke shall be delivered from this their pilgrimage, and shall live for ever with God, and of God. Therefore shall they possesse the Earth for an inheritance. And what shall their riches be? They shall be delighted in the multitude of peace. For the wicked, hee may be delighted in the mul­titude of Gold, in the multi­tude of Silver, in the multi­tude [Page 111] of Servants, lastly in the multitude and store of Wealth, of delicious Wines, sumptuous and luxurious Feasts. But admit, hee should be alwayes stored, al­wayes in these suted, were not his case to be lamented? But what shall be thy riches, what shall bee thy dainties? Multitude of peace: Thy Gold shall bee peace, thy Sil­ver peace, thy Farmes peace, thy Life peace, thy God peace. Whatsoever thou desirest shall be to thee peace. That which is here Gold, cannot be unto thee Silver: That which is Wine, cannot bee unto thee Bread: That which is unto thee Light, cannot be drinke: whereas thy God shall bee to thee [Page 112] all things. Thou shalt eat him, and never hunger: Drinke him, and never thirst: Be enlightned by him, and never become blind: Bee supported by him, and never faile: Hee wholly shall possesse thee wholly and entirely. Thou shalt suffer there no extremi­ties for another: have him, with whom thou shalt possesse all: enjoy all, and hee enjoy thee all, who is all in all: because thou, and hee, who is joyned in societie with thee shall be one: Which one, God himself shall wholly enjoy in you,Psal. 36. who shall possesse you. This is the end of a man that loveth peace.

Christian Philosophy. A Meditation culled out of S. Augustine, in his Tract upon the 148. Psalme, upon these words:

WHat is his Praise in Heaven and in Earth? Is it be­cause he praiseth? No, But because all things praise him, all things cry un­to [Page 114] to him: the beauty of all things is in some sort the voyce of those which praise the Lord. The Heaven cryeth to the Lord; Thou hast made me, not I my selfe. The Earth cryeth, Thou hast fashioned me, not I my selfe. How then doe these cry? When thou consid [...]rest these and findest this in these, out of thy consideration they cry, out of thy voyce they cry, His praise is in Heaven and in Earth: Consider the Heaven, it is beautifull: consider the Earth, it is beautifull: both of them are together very beautifull. It is he that made them, he that guides them: it is his command that governs them: It is hee that alters times, supplies moments. [Page 115] Even Hee of himselfe sup­plies them. All things there­fore doe praise him, whether they be in station, or motion, whether they be from Earth below, or from Heaven a­bove, whether they be in de­clining or renewing. When thou seest these, and rejoy­cest in these, and art lifted up in Contemplation to Him that made these, and consi­derest how these invisible things of his are understood by these which are made, then is His praise in Heaven and in Earth, that is, thou prai­sest him for things earthly, thou praisest him for things heavenly. And because Hee made all things, and that there is nothing better than Him; whatsoever He made [Page 116] is below Him, and whatso­ever seemes pleasing in these, is lesse pleasing than Hee is. Let nothing then so much please thee in these which he hath made, as He himselfe, by whom they were made. But if so thou love this which He hath made, thou art much more to love Him, by whom they were made. If these be so beautifull which He hath made, much more beautifull is Hee by whom they were made. His praise is in Heaven and in Earth, and he shall exalt the horne of his people. Now (in this Vale of teares, and field of tares) is the Horne of his people humbled in threshings, tribulations, temptations, beating of brests. When shall the Horne of his people be exal­ted? [Page 117] When the Lord him­selfe shall come, and our Sun shall arise, not this which is seene with our eyes, and ari­seth on the good and evill, but even that Sunne whereof it is said,Mat. 5. unto you that feare the Lord, Malac. 4. shall the Sunne of righ­teousnesse arise, & health shall be under his wings; and whereof the proud and wicked shall say,Wisd. 5. The light of righteousnesse hath not shined unto us, and the Sunne of understanding rose not upon us. Hee shall bee our Summer. Now, fruits in Winter time appeare not in the root. Thou observest how dry Trees are in winter. He that knows not the observa­tion of these things, prunes the dry Vine before the fruit come, and, perchance, next [Page 118] Spring it becomes so dry, as it brings forth neither flower nor fruit, when it should come. Both these are alike in winter, this liveth, that is dead: But the life of this, and the death of that, are both in secret. The Sum­mer approacheth; life ap­peareth in this, death is dis­covered in that. Beauty of leaves precedeth, plenty of fruit succeedeth: the Vine is attired with that beauty in her leafe, which she retains in her root. Therefore, my Brethren, we are now while we are here, in our conditi­on like other men. Like as they are borne, eat, drinke, live, and are cloathed, and so passe over their life; even so the Saints. Sometimes doe [Page 119] these things deceive men, whence it is they say, Be­hold, since this man became a Christian, did his head ne­ver ake? Or now being a Christian, enjoyes hee more than I doe? O dry Vine! Thou observest the Vine planted neere thee how na­ked it is in winter, but ne­ver how dry it is by heat of summer. The Lord our beauty will come, who lay hid in the root; and then will He exalt the horne of his people, after this our captivity wher­in we mortally live. Whence it is that the Apostle saith, Iudge nothing before the time, I Cor. 4. untill the Lord come, who will lighten things that are hid in darknesse, and then shall everie man have praise of God. But [Page 120] thou wilt say, where is any root? where is any fruit? If thou beleevest, thou knowest where thy root is. For there it is, where thy Faith is, where thy Hope and Charity is.Colos. 3. Heare the Apostle, for yee are dead: They appeared as it were dead in winter. Heare how they live, And your life is hid (saith he) with Christ in God. Behold, where thou hast thy root! When then shalt thou bee adorned with beauty? When shalt thou be multiplied in fruit? Heare what followeth, When Christ which is our life shall appeare, then shall yee also appeare with him in glory.

THE Soules Jubilee, Gathered from Saint Augustine, in his Tract Upon the 85. Psalme, Upon these words:

REjoyce the Soule of thy Servant. Rejoyce her, be­cause unto thee do [Page 122] I raise her. She was in earth, and in earth shee felt bitter­nesse: Now, lest she should pine away through bitter­nes, and so lose all thy graci­ous sweetnesse, I have raised her up unto thee, Rejoyce her with thee. For thou onely art joyfulnesse: the World is full of bitternesse. Surely, very rightly doth he exhort his members, that they have their hearts on high. Let them then heare it & doe it: let them lift that up unto heaven, which is in an evill state while it is upon Earth. For there the heart doth not corrupt, if it be lifted up un­to God. If you have corne in low places, lest it should corrupt, you remove it higher: doe you then seeke [Page 123] to prepare a place for your corne, and will you suffer your heart to corrupt on Earth? you remove your corne to an higher room, lift up your heart unto heaven. But how may I doe this, will you say? What Cords, what Pulleis, what Ladders are needfull? These staires, are thy affections: thy way, is thy will. By loving thou ascen­dest, by neglecting thou de­scendest. Standing on Earth thou art in Heaven, if thou love God. For the heart is not lifted, as the body is rai­sed. The body, that it may be raised, changeth her place, but the heart, that it may be roused, changeth her will, For unto thee, O Lord, doe I lift up my soule: for thou, Lord, art [Page 124] good and mercifull, therefore rejoyce her. As one wearied and tediously affected with the bitternesse of earthly things, shee desires to bee sweetned, and hath sought the fountaine of sweetnesse, but could not find it on earth. For what way soever she turned herselfe, she found scandals, tribulations, feares, tentations: In what man li­ving safe security? Of whom certaine joy? And if not of himselfe, how much lesse from another? For either men are evill, and of necessity wee must suffer them, yet hoping withall that they may be changed: or they are good, and so wee ought to love them, yet fearing withall lest they become evill, be­cause [Page 125] they may be changed. There, the wickednesse of those begetteth bitternesse of soule: here, care and feare equally surprize us, lest hee fall away from us, who walked sometime uprightly among us. What way soe­ver then the heart shall turne her, she findes bitternesse in earthly things: shee has not wherewithall to sweeten her, unlesse shee lift her selfe up unto God her Maker. For thou, Lord, art good and merci­full. What is this mercifull? Thou supportest mee till thou perfectest me. For tru­ly, my Brethren, I will speak as a man unto men and of men. Let every one bring hither his heart, and behold himselfe without flattering [Page 126] and without glozing. No­thing is foolisher, than flat­tering & seducing ones self. Let every one then consider and see what and how many things are acted in mans heart; and how, for most part, our very praiers are hin­dred by various thoughts, so as our hearts will scarcely stand firme before God. It desires so to enjoy it selfe that it may stand, and in some sort it flyes from it selfe, yet for all this it findes no let­tices by which it may confine her thoughts, or barres by which it may restraine her distractions, and wandring motions, and stand joyfully before her God. Rare it is, that a prayer should occurre devoutly fixt, amongst so [Page 127] many prayers. Now every one would say, that, what befalleth him, befalleth not another, unlesse we found in the Sacred Scripture of God, that David in one place pray­ed and said:2 Reg. 7. O Lord, I have found my heart, that I may pray unto thee. Hee said, hee had found his heart, as if it used sometimes to fly from him, and he to pursue it as a fugi­tive, and could not lay hold on it, and to cry unto the Lord, My heart hath forsaken me. Psal. 39. Therefore, Brethren, considering what hee here saith, Thou art good and mer­cifull, I conceive that for this cause he cals him a mercifull God, for that hee suffereth these things in us, and yet expecteth prayer from us, [Page 128] that hee might perfect his good work in us. And when we have given it him, by of­fering our oblation of prayer unto him, hee receiveth it freely, and heareth it friend­ly, neither remembers hee those prayers of ours, which we so unseasonably presen­ted, but receiveth this one which we scarcely found, yet found wee humbly offered. For tell me, Brethren, what man is he, with whom if his friend shall begin to talke, and he will not answer him, but observes him to decline from him, and to direct his discourse unto another, as if he were wholly aliened from him, who, I say, could en­dure this? Or suppose thou should'st intercede a Judge, [Page 129] and addresse thy selfe to him in such a place as hee may heare thee, and suddenly, when thou should'st speake unto him, thou leavest him, or entertainest some trifling discourse with thy friend, how could hee endure this? Yet doth God suffer so many hearts of such as pray, and thinke of many wan­dring thoughts while they pray, I forbeare to speake of thoughts hurtfull, I for­beare to speake of things de­praved and offensive unto God: for to thinke even of superfluous thoughts, is an injury unto him, with whom thou speakest. Thy Prayer is a speech unto God. When thou readest. GOD speakes unto thee: When thou praiest, [Page 130] thou speakest with God.

But what? Are wee to despaire of man-kind, and now conclude, that every man is damned, when any wandring thought shall creepe in upon him, and in­terrupt his prayer? If wee should conclude thus, Bre­thren, I doe not see what hope might remaine in us. But forasmuch as wee have hope in God, for great is his mercy, let us say unto him; Rejoyce the soule of thy servant: For unto thee, O Lord, doe I lift up my soule. And how have I lifted it up? As much as I could, as much as thou ga­vest me strength, as soone as I was able to lay hold on my fugitive soule. So long as thou stoodst before me (sup­pose [Page 131] him to speake in the person of God) thou enter­tainedst such vaine & super­fluous thoughts, as thou scarcely pouredst forth one fixt or stable prayer unto me. What more canst thou answer unto this, but, that thou Lord art good and merci­full? mercifull thou art in suffering me. I fall away through sicknesse, heale me, and I shall stand: strengthen me, and I shall bee strong. Meane time, till thou doest this, thou sufferest mee: for thou Lord, art gracious and very mercifull. Not onely mercifull, but very mercifull. For our iniquity aboundeth, and thy mercy aboundeth Yea full of mercy art thou to all such as call upon thee. [Page 132] What is it then that the Scripture saith in so many places,Prov. 1▪ They shall call upon me, but I will not answer. (Cer­tainly he is mercifull to all such as call upon him) un­lesse it be for that some cal­ling upon him, doe not call upon him, of whom it is said,Psal. 13. They have not called upon God? They call, but not upon God. Thou callest for what thou lovest: Thou callest for what thou wishest in thee; thou callest for what thou would'st have come to thee. Wherefore, if for this end thou call upon God, that mo­ney may come to thee, that an inheritance may descend to thee, that temporall dig­nity may befall thee, thou [Page 133] callest upon him for those things which thou desirest that they may come unto thee: But thou makest God here a furtherer of thy lusts, not a favourer of thy desires. Is God good, if he give thee what thou would'st have? What if thou would'st have what is ill? were hee not more mercifull unto thee in not giving thee what thou would'st have? Yet, for all this, if hee doe not give it thee, God is as nothing un­to thee: For thou sayest, How long have I sought, how oft have I sought, and yet am not heard? But what hast thou sought? Per­chance, the death of thy Enemy: what if he also be­sought thine? He who cre­ated [Page 134] thee, he likewise created him: Thou art a man, hee likewise is a man: But God is the Judge, hee hearkneth both, but hee heareth not both. Thou art sad, for that thou art not heard in thy prayer against him: be glad, that hee is not heard in his prayer against thee. But thou wilt say, I did not seeke this, I sought not the death of mine enemy; but I be­sought the life of my child: What evill sought I in this? Thou soughtst no evill, as thou thinkest; but tell mee, what if hee were taken from thee, lest Sin should change his understanding? But thou wilt say, hee was sinfull, and therefore I desir'd that hee might live, that hee [Page 135] might reforme his life. Thou desiredst that he might live better: but what if God saw that he by living longer, would become worse? How knowest thou then whether might more redound to his profit, to dye or live? Seeing then thou knowest not, re­turne into thy heart, leave this to the secret counsell of God. But what shall I then doe, wilt thou say? How may I pray? How maist thou pray? As thy Lord hath taught thee, as thine Heavenly Master hath taught thee. Call upon God, as God;. Love God, as God. Nothing is better than hee, desire him, covet him. See how this princely Prophet calleth upon the Lord in an­other [Page 136] other Psalme, One thing have I desired of the Lord, Psal. 26. that I will require. And what is this hee desires? Even that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the dayes of my life: And to what end? To behold the beauty of the Lord. If then thou desi­rest to be the Lover of God, with thy sinc [...]rest affections, and chastest sighes love him, like him, long for him, lan­guish for him, than whom thou canst find nothing more joyfull, nothing more grace­full, nothing more cheere­full, nothing more diutur­nall. For what more diutur­nall, than what is sempiter­nall? Doe not feare that hee at any time will fall from thee, who hath made thee, that thou shouldst not fall [Page 137] from him. If then thou callest upon God as God, be secure, thou art heard; thy portion hath relation to that verse, He is very mercifull to all such as call upon him. Doe not then say, He hath not given me this. Returne unto thy heart, and discharge thy conscience, examine it, doe not spare it. If thou hast at any time called upon God for temporall benefits, assure thy selfe that therefore hee did not give them thee, be­cause they would not profit thee. In this, Brethren, let your hearts be edified, your Christian hearts, your faith­full hearts; lest yee fall into murmuring against God, by being discontented, when frustrated of your desires: [Page 138] and in vaine it is to kick a­gainst the prick. Make re­course to the Scriptures. The Devill is heard,Matth. 8. and the Apostle is not heard. How seemes this unto you? How are the Devils heard? They besought him that they might goe into the heard of Swine, and it was granted them. How is the Devill heard? He besought him, that he might tempt Iob, Job 1. and it was suffered him. How is the Apostle not heard? Lest I should be exalted out of measure, 2 Cor. 12. through the abundance of revelations, there was given unto me a pricke in the flesh, the Messenger of Satan to buffet me. For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might de­part from me. And he said unto [Page 139] me, my grace is sufficient for thee: for my power is made perfect through weaknesse. He heard him, whom he had disposed to damnation: and heard not him whom hee prepared to salvation. The sick patient asketh many things of his Physician: yet the Physician gives them not, hee heares him not after his will, but for his health. Make God then thy Physician: aske of him health, and hee will bee thy health: not only as out­ward health, but as he him­self is all health. Love not then any health beside him, but as thou hast it in the Psalme,Psal. 34. Say unto my Soule I am thy Salvation. What is it unto thee what hee give thee, so he give himselfe un­to [Page 140] to thee? Now wouldst thou that hee give himselfe unto thee? What if that thou wouldst have hee will not give thee, that hee may give himselfe unto thee? Hee removes impediments from thee, that hee may enter in unto thee. Brethren, ob­serve and consider what God gives here unto Sinners, and hence gather what hee keepes in store for his Ser­vants. To Sinners that blas­pheme him, hee gives daily the benefits of Heaven and Earth, hee gives fountains, fruits, health, children, wealth, abundance. All these goods things none gi­veth but God. Hee that gives such things to the sin­full, what thinkst thou stores [Page 141] hee up for his faithfull? Doest thou thinke this of him, that hee who gives such things to the evill, reserves nothing in store for the good? yes truly, hee reserves not onely earth but heaven. Nay perchance, I speake of something too low when I speake of heaven: hee re­serves himselfe who made Heaven. Beautifull is hea­ven, but more beautifull is the Maker of Heaven. But (saist thou) I see Heaven, but I see not him. Thou hast eyes to see Heaven: But thou hast not as yet an heart to see the Maker of Hea­ven. To that end came hee from Heaven to Earth, that hee might cleanse thine heart, whereby he might [Page 142] bee seene who made Hea­ven and Earth. But freely with patience expect salva­tion. Hee knowes best with what medicines to cure thee: Hee knowes best how to cut thee, how to seere thee. Thou art become sick through sinne, hee comes not onely to cheere, but to cut and seere. Doest thou not see what paine men suffer under the hands of their Physicians, who promise unto them an un­certaine hope of life? Thou shalt bee cured, saies the Physician, thou shalt bee cured if I cut thee. And this is but the promise of man, and promised to man. Neither is hee cer­taine who speakes it, nor [Page 143] hee who heares it: be­cause hee speakes it unto man, who made not man, nor perfectly knoweth what may become of man: yet gives man credit to these words of man, who knowes not what becomes of man: hee submits his members unto him, hee suffers him­selfe to bee bound, or some­times unbound he is cut and seer'd: and perchance hee recovers health for a few dayes, yet after this short re­covery of health, hee knows not when hee must dye; and perchance hee dyes while he is in cure, or perhaps hee cannot bee cured. But to whom hath God at any time promised, and deceived?

THE Christian Storehouse,
Rendred from Saint Augustine in his Tract upon the 64. Psalme, upon these words:

WHat are those good things of the house of God? Brethren, let us suppose to our selves some [Page 145] rich House, imagining it to bee stored with all good things, how plenteous it may be, what store of vessels of gold and silver there may bee, how numerous a family, what abundance of stock and store, in a word how the House it selfe may delight us with pictures and structures of marble, ar­ched Roofes, curious Co­lumns, specious Spaces, sumptuous Rooms: behold, such things are desired, but as yet out of the confusion of Babylon. Prune all these desires, O Citizen of Hierusalem, prune all these: if thou wilt returne to thine heavenly City, let not cap­tivity delight thee. But if thou hast already begun to [Page 146] goe out of Babylon, doe not looke behind thee, doe not loyter in the way. There want not yet Enemies to perswade thee to stay still in thy captivity and exile. Let not then the speeches of the wicked prevaile with thee. Desire the House of God, and desire the good things of that house: but not such, as thou usest to desire either in thine owne House, or in thy Neighbours or Patrons House. There is goodnesse of another nature in this House. What need wee to declare what those good things be of that House? Let him exp [...]esse them who singeth in his going out of Babylon: We shall bee satisfied with the pleasures of thine House. What [Page 147] are those pleasures? Some­times, perchance, wee ere­cted our hearts to gold, to silver, and other pretious things: doe not seeke such, these oppresse, they doe not refresh. Let us here then me­ditate of those pleasures of Hierusalem, those pleasures of the House of the Lord, those pleasures of the Temple of the Lord: because those pleasures which are of the House of the Lord, those are pleasures of the Temple of the Lord. Wee shall bee satisfied with the pleasures of thine House: Holy is thy Temple, wonderfull in righteousnesse. These are the pleasures of that House. Hee sayes not, thy holy Temple wonderfull in Pillars, won­derful in Pictures, wonderful [Page 148] in Marbles, wonderfull in gilded buildings, but won­derfull in righteousnesse. Thou hast outward eyes, wherewith thou maist see marble stru­ctures, golden statues: but within is the eye wherewith thou maist view the beauty of Righteousnesse: within, I say, is the eye wherewith thou maist view the beauty of Righteousnesse. If there bee no beauty in Righteous­nesse, whence is it that the Righteous old man is lo­ved? What may his body present to delight the sight? Hee presents crooked lims, a rugged forehead, an head whitened with hoary haires, weaknesse in all parts, full of aches and complaints. But, perchance, though this de­crepit [Page 149] old man delight not thine eyes, hee may delight thine eares. With what voyce? with what song? For though, perchance, while hee was young, hee sung well, all those ayres are decayed with age. For can the sound of his words pos­sibly delight thine eares, seeing he can scarcely pro­nounce his words through the dropping decay of his teeth? Yet if hee bee just, if he covet not that which is anothers, if hee out of his owne distribute to the ne­cessity of others, if he admo­nish discreetly, and under­stand rightly, if hee beleeve sincerely, if hee bee ready for the profession of truth to bestow even his decayed [Page 150] lims (for many have beene Martyrs when they were old) wee are moved to love him. But whence is it that wee love him? What good thing doe wee see in him with these eyes of our flesh? No­thing. There is then a cer­taine beauty of righteous­nesse, which wee see with the eyes of our heart, and which wee love, and where­with wee burne. What was it that begot so much love in men to these Martyrs, when their lims were piece­meal [...] torne by beasts? When their bloud wherewith their Corps were embathed, di­stained all things, when their bowels were rent and shed abroad with the teeth of beasts, had the eyes any [Page 151] objects but spectacles of hor­rou [...]? What was there in them that could bee loved: but that in such a Shambles of torne members, there ap­peared an unblemished beau­ty of righteousnesse? These are the pleasures of the House of God; with these prepare thy self to be satisfied: but that thou maist bee herewith satisfied when thou commest thither, it behoves thee to hunger and thirst after it, while thou art a stranger: Thirst after this, huger after this, for these shall bee the pleasures of God. Heare that King to whō these things are spoken, who came to recall thee, and through himselfe hath made a way for thee, what sayes hee? Bles­sed are they who hunger and [Page 152] thirst after righteousnesse, Mat. [...]. for they shall bee satisfied. Holy is thy Temple, wonderfull in righ­teousnesse. And doe not thinke, Brethren, that this same Temple is without you. Love righteousnesse, and ye are the Temple of God.

MAN His owne Foe.

WHat an Enemy is Man to him­selfe? Hee sees above him, Hea­ven, offering it selfe unto him; below him, Hell, threatning perdition to him; On Earth, hee sees no­thing worthy his affecting. Friends hee observes, and hee finds them Shadowes of time: the best of their con­stancy [Page 154] cloaths it selfe with a seeming mourning, and clo­seth all those glorious pro­tests of Devotion and Service, with a teare-sacrifice to his Urne.

All those faire Monu­ments of his discerning providence are razed; those undeserving Palmes, which afforded him applause, now closed. Those Annals of his care, to an unknowne po­sterity recommended. Those precious vading houres, which well expended, might have gain'd him eternity, are so many Heralds to de­blazon his vanity. Time hee had enough to estate him in immortality; but pleasure, honour, or earthly profit appea­red such precious pearls in [Page 155] his bleered eye, as hee could reserve few or no minutes for so inestimable a purchase, as the permanent possession of a future happinesse. Hee eyed that least, which would have cleared his eye-sight most: making that his Su­preme Object, which should in Wisdome have beene his lowest Subject. He could not possibly affect ought more, than what conduced least to his spirituall improvement. Were he in company; those hee made choice for his con­sorts, whose debauch't course had sprinkled a deepe tin­cture on their fame: and had made them onely exemplary in that which deserved imi­tation least. Did hee walke abroad; hee made no use of [Page 156] those various objects, which might have diverted his eye from admiring the excel­lence of the creature, to fix and inspheare it in the sole satisfying Contemplation of his Creator. Not the least sprig, seed, or grasse­pile, but reteined in it a my­sterious impression of so ex­quisite an Artist: yet with what an easie contempt and per [...]unctory reflex, hee lookes on these, as if they dictated nothing to him but a vading vanity? Yet see, poore groundling! if some flourishing Meadow, faire Pasture, fruitfull Farme, or any other attractive object of sensuall profit present their sight and site unto him; with what a passionate interbreath [Page 157] hee salutes these earthly ob­jects, with a servile irregular wish; Oh that these were mine! Meane time, hee h'as more than hee enjoyes; and en­joyes lesse peace, by ingaging his rough rubbish desires to every place. What an angling hee makes to catch that, which catcheth him most? Hee makes the Day his Pur­veyor for the world; the Night his Remembrancer of his cares: So as, that very time which was allotted Man for rest, becomes his dis­quiet.

If hee ayme at Honour, hee makes it his flame; and ne­ver leaves it, till his ayry wings be singed by it. Se­cure hee was before hee sought; but as one wearied [Page 158] in the haven, he commits his unstear'd vessell to the dan­gers of the Maine; where his Competitors bee those Pi­lots which plash him; who never leave him, till they cause his Top and Top-galant to yeeld with dishonour; which, his unbounded spirit unable to brooke, becomes his secret Pioner.

When Pleasure seazeth his Fort; how long and tedi­ous are those slow-running houres, which divide him from idolatrizing his light-affected Mistresse? What numerous fancies his delu­ded imagination suggests to him; presenting to his in­tranced Conceit, more moving Objects of imagina­ry delight, than the loosest [Page 159] Sibarite ever▪ yet enjoyed? Hee reteines a constant mo­dell of her favour, feature, posture; but how light shee weighs in the Scale of honour, hee never dreames. Hee flat­ters himselfe with the con­ceit of her reply, upon the delivery of a set speech; far­ced with farre more com­plement, than ornament of art. Poore foole! How much a scattred or ravish'd favour transports him! Meane time, shee works on his fortune, while shee guls his guilded person with a seeming affe­ction. Thus splitted in his fortune, hee becomes cashie­red of his temporary favo­rite. And now Time comes, and must needs draw his feature.

[Page 160]Heavens blesse me; how like a fleshlesse Starveling, this amorous Skeleton lookes! Hee, who once fed on fancy, longs after a more substantiall food to refresh his appetite.

Our two late Prophets talkt of Droughts and Plagues; and his incessant desire is by a petitionary way (for other­wise his exhausted fortunes cannot worke, nor project him a course to subsist) that they would intercede (if their phanatick illumination would give leave) that the Drought of his seered liver might bee quenched, and the Plague of his purse cured.

Wee have now Epito­miz'd Man to his full; and [Page 161] discovered him to be the only occasion of his owne fall. Oh that hee would recollect himselfe! and consider from whence hee came, what hee is, and whereto hee must goe.

First, let him reflect upon the state of his earthly being; that weake contexture wher­of hee is moulded; Next, what weake and infirme sup­ports hee stands on; and how soone those shaking Bases shall decline, when ne­cessitated Fate shall under­mine them; Lastly, those miseries one mispent houre shall make him lyable to: when with [...]ighes, and teares, and what not; hee shall pe­tition for redemption of time, which want of time [Page 162] will not afford him; nor all his powerfulst Advocates on Earth procure him; nor all his prayers and teares, be they never so plentifully ef­fused, assure him.

O Man! Seeing then, Earthly Honor becomes acor­roding Competitor to the Owner; ayme at that, which shall without corrivalship highly improve, and secure­ly confirme the injoyer.

Seeing, Worldly wealth sates not the desire, but mi­nisters fresh fuell to the pos­sessor; addresse thy more e­rected thoughts to that solec-sufficing and entirely-enri­ching treasure, which shall cloze thy safely-confined de­sires for ever.

Lastly, Seeing thou art so [Page 163] much transported with the vading shadow of Worldly Pleasure; fix thy sole content on that absolute good, which transcends all extent: So shalt thou, who before wer't a Foe to thy selfe, be­come a Friend to Him, who to redeeme thee, ingag'd himselfe.

TWO Devout Prayers, Or Meditations of F. Lewis of Granado, gathered forth of his Meditati­ons in Spanish, and heereto annexed.

A Short and fruitfull Confes­sion of a Sinner un­to God, for obtai­ning Contrition.

O God of inestimable and eternall mercy, God of unmeasurable piety, God the Creator and Redeemer of mankind, who purifiest the hearts of such as confesse their sinnes unto thee; who releasest all such from the bond of iniquity, as accuse themselves before the sight of thy divine majesty: I be­seech the power and depth of thy goodnesse with inward [Page 180] groanes: that according to the multitude of thy mercies, thou wouldst grant mee to make a pure and sincere con­fession before thee of all my sinnes, whereof my guilty conscience doth accuse mee. And that thou wouldst give mee true repentance for all such things as I have com­mitted, in naughty thoughts, depraved cogitations, wicked consent, unjust counsell, in concupiscence and uncleane delights, in evill and hatefull words, in malicious works, in my seeing, hearing, ta­sting, smelling, and touching. I truly even in all my mem­bers doe conceive my selfe guilty above measure: be­cause, as the starres of heaven, and sands of the Sea; so doe [Page 181] I know my sinnes to bee in­numerable. But to thee, Lord, who knowest all se­crets, and who hast said, Thou desirest the repentance of a Sinner, doe I reveale all the secrets of my heart, accusing my naughtinesse, and my many and very great sinnes, which I have com­mitted before the eyes of thy fearefull Majesty, all my wretched life long, especial­ly these (here for the better increase of thy devotion and spi­rituall compunction, maist thou particularize some of thy grievouser Sinnes) with all those my evils, which are open and manifest, O God of mercy, in thy sight. And now, O most graci­ous LORD, looke upon [Page 182] mee and have mercy on mee, and give unto mee a fountaine of teares and re­mission of all my sinnes, through thy free mercie, and that with inward con­fession of heart, and affe­ction of desiring remission, seconded with so sincere a Confession. Rectifie and reforme in mee, O most loving Father, whatsoever is depraved in mee, either in word, deed, thought, through my owne impie­tie, or the Devils subtil­tie; and by joyning mee a member to the unity of the Church, make mee partaker of thy Redemption; and admit mee to the Sacrament of blessed reconciliation, as one who hath no confi­dence [Page 183] but in thy mercy and compassion.

A Confession of Sinnes; by Blessed Augustine.

O Mercifull, pitifull, great and terrible God: I confesse unto thee my sins; to thee, to thee, doe I dis­cover [Page 184] my wounds: for thine ineffable goodnesse bestow a Salve on mee. Thou, O most mild Lord, vouchsafedst to say: I desire not the death of a sinner, but rather that hee may turne from his wickednesse, and live. I confesse, that my life is in thy sight wicked and crooked, that my life is falling into the lake of mi­sery, and my Soule perishing in my iniquities. Lust, sin­full delight, naughty works, wrath, prid [...], impatience, malice, envy, gluttony, ebri­ety, theft, rapine, lying, perjury, scurrility, foolish speaking, murmuring, de­traction, ignorance, infide­lity, distruct, negligence of Gods Commandements, as contagious glagues have [Page 185] slaine my Soule. Mine heart and lips are polluted. My seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, and touching have enfeebled my Soule with sinnes, and I am wholly lost as well in my cogitation, as action. I beseech thee, O my Lord God, whose mercy hath no end, draw mee unto thee, as thou drewest that sinfull woman. As thou gavest grace unto her, not to cease from kissing thy feet, washing them with her teares, and wiping them with her haires: so graciously vouch­safe to grant unto mee, that according to the greatnesse of mine iniquities, thy great love may bee in mee, that for thine unmeasurable pie­ty, thou maist forgive mee all [Page 186] my sinnes. Bestow on mee pardon for evils past, conti­nence for evils present, and cautelous prudence for evils to come: Grant mee, I be­seech thee, before I dye, most fully to obtaine thy mercy: and suffer not my dayes to bee ended, till my sinnes bee pardoned, but as thou wil­lest and knowest, have mercy on mee, Amen.

A PRAIER before the holy Communion.

HAile, O most holy flesh and bloud of Christ, wherereof I am made parta­ker in these visible Elements. Haile O thou highest sweet­nesse, who knowest no lo­sing, takest away all loathing, destroyest death, restorest life. Haile thou blessed food, which leadest thine Elect from the exile of this World to their Country. Haile thou happy Sacrifice, which art offered upon the [Page 188] Altar of the Crosse, to God [...]he Father, for the whole burden of our sinnes. Haile thou Manna more white than snow, more sweet than honey, more precious than all gold. Take from mee, I beseech thee, O good Shep­heard, mine iniquities: that with a purified heart and spirit, I may deserve to taste these Holy of holiest. Let this venerable Sacrament bee an impregnable Safeguard to mee against the deceits of the enemy: that fed with this wholesome Viand, I may passe the slippery wayes of this life, in a blamelesse conversation, and come un­to thee, the Bread of life, and the true Lord of An­gels, without any hinde­rance [Page 189] of the Devils subtilty or malice. O Lord heare mee, bee pacified with mee, attend mee, and tarry not from mee, O my God, for thy goodnesse sake. For none can bee worthy of so great a mystery, unlesse thou, ô Omnipotent God, make him worthy, Amen.

A PRAIER OF Th. Aquinas, to be said after cele­bration of the holy Communion.

I Give thankes to thee, O holy Lord, Omnipotēt Father, Eternall God, who hast vouchsafed to refresh me thy grievous sinner, and un­worthy servant, for no de­serts of mine, but for thy sole mercy sake, with the pre­cious Body and Bloud of [Page 191] thy Sonne our Lord JESUS CHRIST. And I beseech thee, that this holy Com­munion may not bee of guilt to mee unto condemnation, but a soule-saving intercessi­on of remission and consola­tion. Let it bee unto mee the armour of faith, and the shield of good-will. Let it bee unto mee a removing of my vices, a rooting out of lust and licentiousnesse, an increasing of Charity and Patience, Humility and O­bedience, and of all Vertues. Let it bee a strong defence a­gainst all mine Enemies, as well visible, as invisible; a perfect quieting and compo­sing of my motions, as well carnall as spirituall: a con­stant cleaving in thee, the [Page 192] one and true God: and a happy consummation of mine end. And I beseech thee, that thou wouldst vouchsafe to bring mee thy most unworthy [...]inner, to thatineffable Banquet, where thou with thy Sonne and holy Spirit, art true light, full satiety, sempiternall joy, consummate gladnesse, and perfect felicity to thy Saints: Through the same Christ our Lord, Amen.

Another Praier of S. Bonaventure.

O Most sweet Lord JESU, trans­pierce the mar­row and bow­els of my soule, with the most sweet and wholesome wound of thy love; with cleare, sincere, and most holy Apostolicall Charity, that my soule may languish, and melt alwayes with the onely love and de­sire of thee; Let her long and faint af [...]er thy Courts; Let her desire to be dissolved, and to be with thee. Grant, that my [Page 194] soule may hunger after thee, the bread of Angels, the re­past of holy soules, our dayly bread, super-substantiall, ha­ving all pleasantnesse of taste, and all delight of sweetnesse: May mine heart alwayes hunger and feed on thee, on whom the Angels desire to looke, and with the sweet­nesse of thy taste, let the bowels of my soule be filled: May shee alwayes thirst after thee, the fountaine of life, the fountaine of Wisdome and Knowledge, the foun­taine of eternall Light, the streame of pleasure, the ful­nesse of the house of God: May shee alwayes looke a­bout for thee, seeke thee, finde thee, draw towards thee, come to thee, meditate [Page 195] of thee, converse with thee, & doe all things to the praise and glory of thy name, with humility and discretion, with love and delectation, with facility and affection, with perseverance to my dissolution: And bee thou alwayes my onely hope, my whole trust, my riches, my de­light, my joy, my gladnesse, my quiet and tranquillity, my peace, my sweetnesse, my per­fume, my solace, my meat, my repast, my refuge, my succour, my wisdom, my portion, my possession, my treasure, wher­in my mind and mine heart may be alwayes fixed, groun­ded, and unmoveably roo­ted. Amen.

A PRAYER for all Judges, and Justiciaries.

O Almighty God, who judgest ini­quity in equity, and doest in­scrutable things: Thou, who weighest the mountaines in a balance, and wilt bring the Iudges of the Earth to judgement: Direct their understandings to dis­cerne [Page 197] what is right, give them courage and resolution to doe what is right. Give them wisdome in their waies,In ore grati­am, in more [...]aga [...]iam [...], in [...] sola­tiu [...]. faithfulnesse in their works, uprightnesse in their walkes. Remove from them covetousnesse; and let it bee their ambition to ad­vance thy glory. Let nei­ther rewards bee in their hands, nor revenge in their hearts. Take from them all drousinesse and dulnesse, all security and remisnesse. Im­print in their hearts a feare of thy name, a reverence to thy throne, and in all their judgements a sweet attem­prature of me [...]cy and judge­ment. Make them tremble when they call to mind whom they personate; and [Page 198] imitate thee in being com­passionate. Let not the Or­phans prayers, nor the Wi­dowes teares be unremembred: seeing these are bottled up by thee, let them not bee de­spised by them that represent thee. O let righteousnesse drop upon the Earth, that as dew falleth upon the grasse, so every flowry border of this thine inclosed garden, may bee watred by the dew of thy grace. Suffer not this Iland to mourne, nor her People to grone, because of injustice, oppression, and wrong. Put an hooke in the nostrils of all such imperious Iudges, who take thy Law in­to their mouth, and hate to be re­formed. As for those, who turne Iudgement to worme­wood, Amos 4. 7. [Page 199] and leave of righteousnes in the Earth. These, who buy the poore for silver, Ibid. 8. 6. and the needy for shoes. These▪ that put farre away the evill day, Ibid. 6. 3. and ap­proch to the se [...]te of iniquity: The Lord will be avenged of them: Hee will mite the great house with breaches, 11. and the lit­tle house with clefts. But re­move these judgements from thine Israel, O God: May no corruption raigne in her Pa­laces, nor iniquity in her pathes. May a Zeale of thine house, a feare of thy name, a love of piety, an hate to par­tiality, seize upon the hearts of all Iudges and Iusticiaries in this Kingdome, that they may execute their places without respect of persons, and afterwards raigne with [Page 200] those three individuate Persons, GOD the Fa­ther, GOD the Sonne, and GOD the holy Ghost, Trinity in Unity, and Unity in Trinity, to whom bee all Glorie,

Amen.

A Prayer for Peace or tranquillity of Mind.

GRacious God, who art a God of peace, and hast pronounced a blessing upon those who make peace, give mee that which thou blessest, that I may enjoy what thou lovest, embrace that which thou approvest, affect that which thou com­mendest, possesse that wherin thou delightest. Thou know­est that debates, variance, and contention doe distract our devotion, distemper the [Page 202] affection, disquiet every good motion, disturbe every pious intention. Grant ther­fore, I beseech thee, that these differences to which I am ingaged, or may hereafter bee intangled or inthralled, be to the glory of thy great name, the preservation of mine honest repute and fame, and quiet of my af­faires, peaceably composed. Cut out of mee towards my family all severity, towards my familiars all disloyalty, towards my Neighbours all extremity. Grant mee peace of mind in my living, peace of conscience at my dying, and after death that peace which passeth all understan­ding. Cause all tumults of the flesh to cease in mee, all [Page 203] immoderate affections to de­crease in mee, all inordinate motions to dye in mee. San­ctifie my heart, purifie my mind, direct my spirit, erect my faith, correct my life. Re­move from mee all occasions of difference, that I may find quietnesse of conscience. Grant that I may sow the seed of righteousnesse, walke in the wayes of holynesse, make profession of my faith with all singlenesse, that I may come to the possession of happinesse. Let mee seeks peace and ensue it, Love thy Law and pursue it, reforme thine Image and renue it. Suffer not the tempests of this world to dismay mee, the errors of this life to per­plex mee, or the terrors of [Page 204] death to appall mee. I know, O Lord, affliction to bee bit­ter to him that suffers it im­patiently; but sweet to him that suffers it constantly. Thou provest those thou lo­vest, and afflictest those thou affectest. Affliction then can­not be bitter, when it maketh us better. What though dis­grace obscure mee, wrongs inure mee, reproach impeach mee, injuries presse thicke upon mee? I am made strong through him to beare them, who bore the Crosse for me, suffered all dishonour for mee, shed his bloud for mee, lost himselfe to finde mee, be­came sold to redeeme mee, racked upon the Crosse to reach mee a Crowne, climing Mount Calvarie, to mount [Page 205] mee to glory. O make mee then ready in my suffering to imitate thee my Saviour! Though warre assaile mee without, give mee peace within. Humble my Spirit, that I may bee of that tem­per, as I may still reflect up­on the Image of my Saviour, that living in his feare, I may dye in his favour, Amen.

Of the presence of the Conscience in every place: Gathered out of Saint Bernards Meditations. Cap. XIII.

I Cannot conceale my sinnes: be­cause whither soe­ver I goe, my Con­science is with mee: carry­ing with her whatsoever I have laid up in her, bee it good or evill. Shee keepes for mee living, shee renders [Page 207] to mee dying, whatsoever shee hath received from mee, to bee laid up in her, or kept by her. If I doe well, shee is present, or if I seeme to doe well, and thence become proud, shee is present like­wise. Shee is present with mee living, shee followes mee dying, every where is there inseparable confusion for mee, according to the quality of that which is laid up in my Conscience by me. Thus, thus, in mine owne house, and from mine owne family have I accusers, wit­nesses, Judges, and tormen­tors. My Conscience doth accuse mee, my memory is a witnesse against mee, Rea­son is my Judge, Will my Prison, Feare my Tor­mentor, [Page 208] delight my tor­ment.

For so many as there have beene of evill delights, so many there shall bee of sharpe and painfull tor­ments: for thence are wee punished, whence wee are delighted.

A considerati­on right pithy, pro­fitable, and proper, to inforce in us a more serious Meditation of the former.

WHither then wilt thou fly, O miserable soule, or where wilt thou make thy retire? Neither to the East, nor to the West, nor to the desart Mountaines. Fly thou maist, but escape thou canst not. Woe is mee, what a day of terror will that bee, when thou shalt finde no place to secure thee, no [Page 210] friend to speake for thee, no meanes to reprive thee, all to reprove thee, none to re­lieve thee. When Adam must bee brought from his bushes, and Sarah from be­hind the doore, and man shall say to his Conscience, [...]s Ahab said to Elias, Hast thou found mee, O mine Enemy [...] Poore guilty soule, though [...]hou shouldst fly from the Field to the City, August. in Enar. s [...]p. 45. Psalm. from the [...]ity to thy House, from thy House to thy Chamber, yet wouldst thou finde no rest. For there, even there, where [...]he wals inclose thee, priva­cie seemes to secure thee, the Curtaines of the Night to obscure thee, yet there will thy surcharged Consci­ence accuse thee, thy Memory [Page 211] witnesse against thee, the rule of Reason judge thee, thy Will imprison thee, Feare torture thee, Delight torment thee. Miserable Creature, where pleasure becomes a torture, delight a torment! Alas! if thou hadst none without thee to hunt thee, thou hast one within thee will haunt thee, afflict thee, affright thee, though none should pursue thee:Prov. 28. 1. The wic­ked flee when none pursueth. O cast thine eye upon thy selfe, and see if thou bee not one of this number. What hast thou done during thy way­ [...]aring in this vale of misery, that might deserve the least drop of Gods mercy? What sinnefull motion hast thou not admitted? what sensuall [Page 212] action not committed, what spirituall direction not omit­ted? Behold thy state in sin conceived, by sinne decei­ved, and into Satans family received! Thou hast sur [...]e­ted in the delights of sinne, and estranged thy thoughts from the joyes of Sion. Thou hadst rather enjoy the plea­sures of sinne for a season, and to the slavery of sense subject the Principality of reason, than by contempt of Earth lay thee a sure foun­dation in heaven. Miserable soule, what will become of thee, when these earthly joyes shall bee taken from thee, when these time-suting friends which seeme to love thee, shall leave thee, and by reason of that corrupt shell [Page 213] wherein thou sojournest, shall loath thee? When left to thy selfe, and through an­guish of spirit well neare be­reft thy selfe, thou sh [...]lt call for comfort, but none will come neare thee; for one of thy many fri [...]nds, but none will heare thee; for one mi­nutes rest, but none will ease thee; for the least hope of comfort, but none will cheere thee. Where canst thou looke, and not finde new objects of grie [...]e? If to Heaven, see how thy sinnes have incensed it; if to Earth, see how thy example hath defil'd it; if to Hell, see how thy sinnes purchase hath de­served it! What hast thou to plead for thee? What suc­cour, what shelter to secure [Page 214] thee? Alas! now thou art to bee presented before a Judge, who is upright, and will not bee bribed; who is all-seeing, and will not bee blinded; who is equally min­ded, and will not be bended. Forged oathes cannot de­lude him, personall respect deprave him, hireling Advo­cates by perswasion draw him, or powerfull Poten­tates by countenance ore­awe him. The Judges of the Earth shall bee judged by him; and the Kings of the Earth shall tremble before him. O what will become of thee (sinne-soiled soule) in these straits of extremity, these intricate mazes of mise­ry! Poore thou art, and who will enrich thee? naked of [Page 215] good workes, and who will cloath thee? Hungring af­ter this world, which cannot feed thee; thirsting after ho­nours, which cannot fill thee. O how long hast thou preferred the prodigals huskes of vanity, before the delitious viands of eternity? How long hast thou turned in thy bed, like a doore on the hinges, promising thy selfe se­curity, when nothing was farther from thee? O reflect upon thy misery, and im­plore gods mercy! Even that God, in whose sight the very Heavens are uncleane, such is his purity. That God, which came not to call the righteous, but the sinner to re­pentance, such is his piety. Art thou sick? Yea sin-sick, [Page 216] soule-sick.Electrum l [...]chry [...]a­rum, Electu­arium ani­marum. Teares are the best Electuary to cure this de­sperate malady. TheLachrymae peccatorum, sun [...] vinum Angelo [...]um. Bern sup. Cant. My [...] rham oculoru [...] di­ci [...]us me ru [...] Ange­lorum. penitents brine is the Ange [...]s wine. When Sinners weepe, An­gels rejoyce: for right well they know, that they which Sow in teares, shall reape in joy. Bee a Turtle then in thine heart, passionatly throbbing; a Pelicane in thy brest, com­passionately piercing; an Hart in thine eyes, incessant­ly weeping; a Swan in thy voyce, deaths Elegy singing, a Philomel in thy note, for thy lost chastity [...]ighing▪ a Crane in thy life, circumspectly watching. O shut, yea spee­dily shut, I say, thine eyes from vanity, that the Ob­jects of Heaven may onely delight thee; shut thine [Page 217] eares from levity, that the subject of vertue may invite thee; shut all thy senses from the deluding motives of sen­suality, that reason may bee thy guide, the love of God thy goad, Heaven thy goale, peace of conscience thy crowne of glory. Shut the doore of thine inner Chamber, and there poure out thine heart to Gods honour: where repo­sing, and from the world re­tyring, thou maist thus in­voke him, thus invite him. ‘Let nothing bee unto mee (I beseech thee) pleasant without thee, nothing sweet, nothing specious, nothing appeare unto mee without thee precious. Let all things appeare vile unto mee without thee. [Page 218] Whatsoever is contrary to thee, let it bee displea­sing to mee: and let thy good-will and pleasure, be my indeficient desire and endevour. Let it irke mee to rejoyce without thee, let it delight mee to re­joyce with thee, and weep with thee.Anselm. O good JESU, if it bee so sweet to weep for thee, how sweet is it to rejoyce for thee?’ Thus to meditate, is to recrea [...]e thy wearied soule in the greene pastures of spirituall com­fort; to bath thy panting soule in the pure chrystalline streames of eternall solace; to refresh thine hungry spirit with Heavenly Manna; to tune thy voyce to an holy Hosanna. Oh then, leave to [Page 219] love the world before thou leave the world. Redeeme the time, because the dayes are evill. Avoid the occasion, lest thou become void of reason. Examine thy wayes, thy words, thy works. Subtract an houre from thy sleeping, to adde to thy praying. Mans security is the Devils op­portunity. Watch therfore, for thou knowst not when the Theefe will come. The holy Hermit S. Ant [...]onie, who became first professor of an Eremiticall or solitary life,Damas. in Hi [...]t. Barlaam. when he had read that divine sentence of holy Scripture, —Goe and sell all that thou [...]st, presently conceiving it to be meant by him, hee did so.Luke 10. 37. Goe and doe thou likewise. Follow thy sweet Saviour in [Page 220] a devout contempt of the world, from the Cribbe to the Crosse, from mount Olivet to mount Calvary, and from the tree of his Crosse, hee will reach thee a Crowne of glo­ry. Follow, I say, with fer­vour, the steps of thy Savi­our. Say with holy Hie­rom, Licot sparso [...]ine, s [...]is [...] is vestibus, ube­r [...] quibus [...]e nutrierat, m [...]ter ostēda [...], li [...]t in li­mine pa [...]er jaceat, per contemptam matrem, per calcatum pa­trem, perge siccis [...]culis, & ad vexil­lum Crucis ev [...]la. ‘It my mother should hang about mee, my father lye in my way to stop mee, my wife and children weep about mee, I would throw off my mother, neglect my father, contemne the la­mentation of my wife and children, to meet my Sa­viour, Christ Jesus. My heart is ready, my heart is ready, doe what thou bidd [...]st, and bid what thou wilt.’ But above all things, that thou [Page 221] maist bee at peace with thy Maker, and more gracious in the sight of thy Saviour, make the Evening the dayes Calendar: Say to thy selfe; O my soule, what hast thou done to day? Hieroh. What sinne hast thou healed in thee? where­in was God honoured by thee? How hast thou in­creased or decreased, profi­ted or failed? Doing thus, thy Conscience shall not ac­cuse thee, but defend thee; thy Memory shall not wit­nesse against thee, but for thee; thy Reason shall bee a Judge to acquit thee, not condemne thee; thy Will shall not restraine thee, but free thee; no Feare shall affright or come nye thee; no Delight shall torment [Page 222] thee; but as thy delight was in the Law of the Lord, [...]o thy delight shall bee in the House of the Lord for ever.Rev. 22. 20. Even so come Lord Iesus, come quickly.

Upon these Miscel­lane Meditations, with other mixt Subjects, con­teined in this precedent Tract; A clozing Sonnet.

A reply to a rigid Precisian, ob­jecting, that flowers from Romish Authors extracted, became lesse wholesome and divinely redolent.

SIr, it was your pleasure positively to conclude tou­ching Flowers of this nature, that they lost much of their native beauty, vigour and verdure, because called from a Roman bor­der: wherein I referre you [Page 227] to that sententious Poet, to returne you answer.

Which I have thus rendred in true currant English, fea­ring lest that Latine metall might disrelish your more queasy palate.

A Christian Diall; By which he is dire­cted how to dispose of his houres while he is li­ving, how to addresse himself for the houre of his dying, and how to close his daies with a comfortable end [...]ng.
Faithfully rendred [...]cording to the Originall.
A briefe Institution, with an Exercise for an happy death: ex­pressed in a familiar Conference be­twixt God and the Soule.

AS there is nothing, O Soule, which may make the love of the world more distastfull [...]nto thee, or that may bring thee to so great [Page 233] contempt of it, and of all creatures in it, as the consi­deration of the shortnesse of this life, and certainty of death, whereby all thy ende­vours, all thine honours, all thy pleasures, thoughts, de­sires, and all thy joyes shall perish: So is there nothing that may solace or refresh the loving Soule with greater joy, than the beleefe and hope she hath to become associa­ted to mee, united to me, and swallowed up in mee: where there is hereafter no offence, no sinne, no separation, no danger, no feare, no sorrow. Where the Soule full of cha­rity may alwaies praise mee, alwayes magnifie me, become most perfectly obedient, most perfectly pleasant unto [Page 234] mee, and that shee may bee with mee, where shee may desire nothing, love nothing, feele nothing else beside me, where she may wholly possesse me, & be wholly possessed by me. These things, forasmuch as they cannot firmly nor [...]ul­ly befall thee in this life, but then onely, when thou shalt bee with mee in my King­dome, to wit, when all thy desires shall bee satisfied, both in praising and loving mee, and when I shall bee all i [...] all. Therefore it is, that [...]hou justly cravest, and justly with thy whole heart de [...]irest in that Prayer which I gave [...]hee, Let thy Kingdome come. Wherefore, O daughter, if thou lovest mee rightly, [...]aithfully, fervently: thou [Page 235] wilt desire with all thine heart, this Kingdome, that is, this state or condition; for this with sighs thou wilt pray, to wit, that my King­dome may come, wherein thou maist with most sweet love bee to mee united, wholly in mee melted and molded.

And because (as I said be­fore) this cannot come to passe but by death,The love of God is the faithfull soulesguide. therefore this Death, which is the gate and passage to life, is to my Saints in desire, and life in pa­tience. Hence thou seest, how a soule perfectly loving mee, feareth not death. For whath hath such a Soule to lose by exchange of this mi­serable-unhappy life, but the sta [...]e of sinning, snares of of­fending, occasions of ruine, [Page 236] deceits of enemies, self-frail­ty, feares, with other innu­merable Occurrents, which straiten the Soule, either ignor [...]t, or weake, or luke­warme, (not to speake here of the dangers of the body) and therefore alwayes fain­ting and falling. Manythings here would the soule have which shee ought not, or w^ch she even knowes nor though shee would have them. Many things would shee which she cannot. In many things is the soule ignorant, blind, and walking among Snares, or in darknesse, whence shee knows not how to free her selfe. How then may shee not worthily wish, how not rejoyce, that shee is delive­red from these sorrowes, [Page 237] and dangers? Why there­fore, O Soule, doest tho [...] feare, why dost thou not de­sire death? For tell mee what evill shall death bring unto thee? If thou fearest nothing in this world, death can take nothing from thee. If thou love any thing in this world, it is with danger, yea thou lovest thine owne dan­ger. Cease therefore to love the world before death, that thou maist nothing at all feare death. Furthermore, if thou love me onely in this life, joy for that thou shalt dye, for that thou shalt never enjoy what thou lo­vest, before thou dye. But I know what thou fearest: Truly, thou lovest nothing in this world, thou possessest [Page 238] nothing which thou wouldst not lose, or grievest to lose; yet feare and terror surprize thee, because thou knowest not whether thou beest wor­thy of love or hate; thou knowest not how thou art to bee entertained by mee, whether to rest or punish­ment.

O daughter, thou oughtst not to bee too curious after the knowledge of these things, yea it is not expedi­ent for thee to know them. Stand constantly, although thou feare; in hope and af­fiance, both living and dy­ing, set thy rest upon mee. Thou canst not live well of thy selfe, neither canst thou dye well of thy selfe. Thou hast both from mee. What, [Page 239] if I shall give thee grace to live holily, shall I not also give thee grace to die happi­ly? Seeing thou hast all things from mee, exp [...]ct [...] all things of mee, how can [...] thou expect the one, and despaire of the other? Of thy selfe thou canst nei­ther live well, nor dye well. Put thy trust th [...]re [...]ore in m [...], cast thy thought upon mee, ground all thy feare and care upon mee. As thou canst re­sist no tentation, avoid no sinne living, so neither dy­ing. If I forsake thee no [...] li­ving, if I faithfully prevent tentation, and moderate it in thy life, that thou maist beare it: I am ready to doe the very same unto thee at thy death, that thou maist [Page 240] vanquish it. Never goe to fight with thine owne wea­pons, but rely on mee. If thou rely on mee, I will fight for thee. And if thou have mee fighting with thee and for thee, what hast thou to feare, who art nothing of thy selfe? And as concerning the condition or quality of death, feare nothing. There is no kind of death that can hurt the just: for the just man, with what death soever hee shall bee surprized, shall bee at rest. Wherefore, let it trouble thee nothing, whe­ther thou die at home or a­broad, in thy bed or in thy field: neither art thou to feare, whether the death bee naturall or violent, which takes thee away. For if one [Page 241] kind of death were more unhappy than another, all my Saints (surely) were most unhappy, the most part whereof in times past, in the judgement of the world, and eye of flesh, most unhappily ended this life. Which of mine holy Martyrs dyed a naturall and timely death? Whom hath not the vio­lence of theNec locus sufficeret cruc [...]us, [...]ec cruees corpo­ribus. Jo­seph. lib. 5. de Bell [...] Iud. cap. 28. Crosse, racke, fire, or sword extinguished? Nothing therefore shall it hurt thee, whether thou dyest of the plague, or an a­poplexy, or any other kind of death, in the bed, or in the field. Onely watch, that thou maist bee found in faith, hope and charity: and no death or kinde of Buriall shall harme thee. But forasmuch as [Page 242] speaking to thee, I likewise speake to them, who are as yet imperfect in my love; I advise you all in this, that yee love innocence, and hate iniquity. If thou hast at any time sinned, what Soule soe­ver thou bee, cease, grieve, repent, that thou hast sinned, so long as thou livest. Yet so repent, if thou wishest to thy selfe a fruitfull repen­tance, that thou returne not againe to thy sins, or to thy former state of sinning. Al­wayes expect death, and pre­pare thy self for it, as if thou wert at this very present to dye. But lest some devout institution should be wāting to the weake in spirit, by which supported, they may learne in some sort how to [Page 243] dye, I will adde something more to these. First there­fore,Exce [...]lent Motives for the weake i [...] Spirit, pre­paring them how to die. thou oughtest to re­member what mine Apo­stle saith, and what Truth it selfe speaketh, Yee have not here an abiding City, but ye se [...]ke for one that is to come; unto which here in this world, no otherwise than in a journey yee walke as Pilgrimes. Now your Pilgrimage is ended, when your life is clo­zed. Death therefore is the very last line, running be­twixt this exile wherein yee are, and the Countrey whereto yee goe; so as, there is no o­ther gate, by which yee may passe from this valley of your Pilgrimage, and enter your Countrey, your heavenly in­heritage, but by death. Death [Page 244] then most certainly doth wait for you, like as a most certaine end is limited to your life. But this difference there is betwixt the good and evill, that here in your Pilgrimage yee all travaile mixtly, all, I say, albeit not all in a right way; yee long after your blessed Countrey: all yee, so long as yee are in your journey, although yee wander, may returne un­to the true way. But when yee shall come to the end of your journey, in the gate it selfe, that is, at the point of death, yee are discerned, that Some of you may passe from exile unto life, others to mi­sery and eternall death. It is not then lightly to bee con­sidered, nor negligently ob­served, [Page 245] how every one is to bee prepared before death come. For there yee leave all things after you, in which yee trusted. Bee they riches, honours, friends, or any o­ther vaine thing whatsoever, they shall availe you nothing at the houre of death, but leaving these behind you, ye shall goe naked unto the Tri­bunall of God, to receive according to your works. What blindnesse, nay what madnes is it then, to rejoyce here in your journey, to love fraile things, which profit nothing; to neglect the time and occasion of li­ving well, and as if without all sense of God, through drousinesse and drynesse of mind, to rellish those things [Page 246] onely which are of the flesh, to have in pursuit those things onely which are out­ward, and not at all to consi­der the dangerous state of the inward man, and so to come unto death? Alas; how in­numerable are those misera­bly wretched ones who are here deceived, with the love of the world ensnared, and [...]y drawing after them the yoake of the Devill, how un­happily slaved? And thus un­expectedly they come unto death, with hearts both hard­ned and blinded. Alas; how unhappy is the end of their life, with whom there was never Meditation of death, nor preparation for health?

Such things therefore are to bee rejected, as hinder the [Page 247] spirit, delight the flesh; Such things to bee relinqui­shed as are not expedient; In such sort is every one to live every houre,A divine Memoriall. as if that were his very last, wherein he should dye and goe to judge­ment. This is the most fruit­full, profitable, & soveraigne counsell, O Daughter, that thou maist live after this manner, and that death may be to thee no terrour. Now then, if not continually, yet frequently, should that houre bee presented before thee, as if it were before thine eyes, wherein thy soule going out of thy body shall be judged for all thy workes, words, and thoughts. This therefore oughtst thou even at this present to injoyn thy [Page 248] selfe, that thou maist live so even now, to the end thou maist be found so prepared, is thou wouldst thy selfe to bee prepared, whenso­ever death shall undoubtedly come. It is the property of a most sottish and senselesse heart, to deferre amendment of life to that time, when time expireth, when thou canst live no longer, when now thou art not to amend thy life, but to appeare be­fore God as thou art already amended. Surely, not sinnes only, but even all things doe leave thee going out of this life. Thou art not then pro­perly said to leave thy sins, when thou canst now sin no more: But if whilest thou hast ability to sin, thou cease [Page 249] from sin; true repentance is never to be called late: but this which is deferred to the end of thy life, it is to be fea­red that it is seldome true. For if through feare of dam­nation only, being even now to die, thou sorrowest, and art ready for the avoiding of punishment to performe any taske, be it never so extreme, to obtaine pardon: Thou sorrowest not out of charity, in that thou hast offended God, but out of selfe-love, for that thou wishest to thy selfe good and not evill. For thou sorrowest, because thou hast brought to thy selfe eternall damnation by thy sinnes: Wheras, if thou rightly sor­rowest, for this only wouldst thou sorrow, in that thou, so [Page 250] disobedient unto me, so un­thankfull to me, so reproach­full to me, hast not exhibited due honour and reverence unto me: whom thou ough­test with al affection to have honored, whatsoever should befall thee. Whereas now, forasmuch as thou only sor­rowest for thy selfe, if dan­ger were avoided, or no re­venge on sinne inflicted, thou wouldst never lament, though thou hadst offended me a thousand yeares toge­ther.No true Re­pentance without Charitie. True Repentance, which reconcileth the soule unto me, springeth from Charitie, and bewaileth this especial­ly, that shee hath so greatly and grievously contemned and offended mee her best, greatest, gracioust, and most [Page 251] faithfull LORD GOD, her Creator and Redeemer. Hence, I say, is his heart wounded, for as much as so unthankfully, so disobedient­ly, and so proudly, being bu [...] dust and nothing; hee hath lifted up his head against me Whosoever therefore desi­reth to dye happily, let him (as mine A postle admonish­eth him) live soberly, justly, and holily. An evill death follow­eth not a good and just life but precious in my sight is th [...] death of my Saints; yea, after what sort of death soever they die, that is, whether they dye by water, or fire, or in bed. But to prepare thee all the better for death,Meditation of death, the wis [...] mans life. the Meditation whereof is the life of every wise man; take [Page 252] here along with thee this short exercise, by which eve­ry one may instruct and ad­dresse himselfe, that he may take a course to be found in that state, in which he may not feare to dye.

Wholesome Admo­nitions, teaching a Christian how to dye well,

An Exercise, whereby earely, or whensoever thou willest, thou maist poure out thy heart unto God, for a good death.

O Omnipotent, eternall God, my Creator and Lover, I praise, laud, adore, and blesse thee, for that thou so mercifully and patiently hast suffered mee, groveling [Page 258] in my sins and my unthank­fulnes, even unto this houre, to which thou of thy good­nesse hast brought mee, en­riching me with thy benefits, conferring this life with things necessary for this life upon me, with an angelicall guardian protecting me, and inlarging towards mee thy mercy, who am injuriously [...]nworthy, and a spectacle of misery. Ah gracious God, who knoweth whether the terme of my life shall be pro­ [...]ogued to the evening? O what death shall I desire? O [...]ost mercifull Lord, God, and Father, give unto mee contrition, whereby with all mine heart I may bewaile my sins, and my offending thee. And doe not suffer my soule [Page 259] to goe forth from her bodie, till she be reconciled to thee in mercy, adopted to thee by grace, adorned with thy me­rits and vertues, inflamed with most perfect chari­tie, and accepted according to thy all-good-will and pleasure. O most gracious Lord Jesu Christ, if this I desire of thee do please thee, grant it unto me, although I bee most unworthy to bee heard of thee; grant unto me, I beseech thee, for thine infinite mercies, and the me­rits of thy passion, that I may bee purged in this life from all my sins, that dying, and through vehement and true contrition pricked, and in most ardent charitie to thee united, I may goe out unto [Page 260] thee, my most sweet Redee­mer, being forthwith freed and secured from all damna­tion, and future affliction. Notwithstanding, O most loving Jesu, I doe offer and resigne my selfe unto thee, whether it be to poverty, pe­nury, or any other extremi­tie, for thy glories sake, ac­cording to thy good-will and pleasure: beseeching thee only this, that thou wouldst bee mindfull of my frailty, vilenesse, weaknesse, and mi­sery, as also of thy goodnesse and charity, that thou woul­dest never forsake mee, nor depart from mee, but that thou wouldst alwayes whol­ly governe and possesse mee, according to thy good plea­sure. Amen.

An oblation of Christ and his me­rits to his Fa­ther.

O Omnipotent most gra­cious Father, I doe of­fer unto thee all those pains, dolours, reproches, stripes, and rebukes, all adversities, extremities, and labours of thine onely begotten Jesu Christ, the Lambe immacu­late, which hee suffered in his body for me; likewise all his actions, and every of his members afflicted for me, his bloud shed for me, and with prophane feet trampled; also [Page 262] his most noble and devout Soule, separated from his lovely Body for me, his me­rits likewise and infinite ver­tues. Likewise the powers or faculties of his Soule and body, and all those vitall parts in him, given up unto death for mee, albeit insepa­rably united to his Divini­ty: yea, the whole Christ, thy blessed Sonne, God and man, omnipotent and in­firme, despicable and glori­ous, doing wonders and hanging upon the Crosse, these (I say) doe I offer unto thy sacred Majesty, to the expiation and satisfaction of all my sins, and of all the world, and to the mortifica­tion and extinction of all mine evill passions, affecti­ons, [Page 263] and vices, to the supply of all my negligences, and to thy praise, and thanksgiving for all thy benefits. O God be mercifull unto me a mise­rable sinner, for his sake. Have mercy on mee for the love of Jesu Christ, thy be­loved Son.

THE DYING mans Diary, Or A Christians Memento mori; Divided into a five dayes Exercise.

THere are, who all the yeare long present the figure and feature of Death before them by some certaine Exercise, and pre­pare themselves no other­wise [Page 265] for death, than if they were even then to dye, and that for the space of five dayes continually. The first day, they meditated of the griefes & infirmities which goe before death, and hor­rour of death: unto all which they resigne them­selves. The next day, they thinke of their [...]ins, confes­sing them with so great dili­gence and intention, as if they were to dye presently after their confession. There­fore they spend this day in sighs and teares. The third day, they come unto the bles­sed Eucharist with all the fervour they may, receiving it as their Viaticum in their passage from this their ex­ile. The fourth day, they [Page 266] make continuall supplicati­ons unto God, for the un­ction of the Holy Spirit, whereby they might be illu­minated, and the hardnesse of their hearts mollified: And this they do,Jam. v. 14. as it were, for extreme unction. Mar. 6. 13. The fifth day, they become most fer­vent Supplicants unto God for a spirituall death: wher­by they may perfectly dye to the world & to themselves, and live with God. And to everie of these dayes may be applyed proper Psalmes and Prayers, as also divine invo­cations, & giving of thanks, for all benefits conferred by God upon them all their life long.

Profitable Counsell for one approaching neare the point of death.

O Daughter, seeing thy selfe in this extremitie, prepare thy soule for God; so order and dispose here in thy life time of thy goods tem­porall, that after thy death no difference nor debate may arise. It is most profita­ble for thee to dispose of thy goods in thy life time, and to redeeme thy sins, whilest thou livest, with works of mercie. Whatsoever thou wouldest recommend to o­thers to doe for thee, labour [Page 268] to doe it of thy selfe. For if after death thou go to eter­nall torment, the Provision of a Will, a pompous Fune­rall, Almes and Doales after death, what will these availe thee, when thou art damned? Offer these Oblations to me now whilest thou art living, that thou mayest not onely be delivered from thy sins, but by increasing in my grace, never fall into damna­tion, but by my preventing grace preserving thee from sin, persevere in good works even to the end. When death draweth neare, see that thou wholly free thy selfe then from all unnecessarie cares and imployments, strive to meet me immaculately, affe­ctionately, faithfully, pro­mising [Page 269] nor presuming no­thing of thy works, but through my assured mercie to obtaine Salvation: And in this faith committing and commending thy selfe, and all thou hast in this world, to my providence and good pleasure, receive the Sacraments humbly and devoutly. Those peculiar priviledges and graces al­so, which have power in them through my merits, and are given by mee as a treasure unto the Church (albeit many oft­times abuse them, as they do other most holy things) if thou canst have them, cause them to be applyed unto thee. For even this, verie holy persons of both sexes, [Page 270] and famous for their mira­cles, have formerly done.

An Exercise, where­in the sick person with sighs and groanes (because otherwise it can scarcely be done) may resigne himselfe unto God, and fervently desire, that he may deserve to be joyned unto him.

O Most faithfull Lover, most mercifull Lord Je­su Christ, grant unto mee, that with heart and mind I may feele, what I say: As the Hart brayeth for the rivers of water, so panteth my Soule after thee, ô my God. I have chosen to be an Abject in the house of [Page 271] the Lord, rather than to dwell in the Tabernacle of sinners. Blessed are they that dwell in thy house, ô Lord, for ever and ever shall they praise thee. My Soule hath thirsted after thee, ô God, when shall I come and ap­peare before thy face? Why art thou sorrowfull, ô my Soule, and why art thou so disquieted with­in mee? Trust in the Lord; therefore will I now confesse my selfe unto him, the Salvation of my countenance, and my God. Shew the light of thy counte­nance upon thy servant, ô Lord, save me for thy mercies sake. Let me not be confounded for ever, for I have called upon thee. Be not far from mee, ô my God. Looke downe upon mee and help mee, ô my God. The poore is left unto thee, Thou wilt be the Orphans [Page 272] helper. Thou art my refuge in my tribulation, which hath com­passed mee: O my joy deliver me from these that encompasse mee. Make hast to helpe mee, ô Lord God of my Salvation. For thou art my strength, and my refuge, my helper and my protector. Doe not then leave me, nor despise me, ô God of my salvation. Behold I come unto thee, ô my God, whom I have despised and offen­ded: for the whole earth is full of thy mercie. Therefore doe I flie unto thee, my most mercifull Father. Receive mee according to thy word, when thou sayest; (I WILL NOT THE DEATH OF A SIN­NER) and let mee live, and confound mee not in my hope. O my God, I doe not pray un­to thee, for a life temporall, [Page 273] but I call upon thee for the Salvation of my Soule, who art life eternall. O my sweet Lover, O my Lord God, for as much as I have offended thee; for that I have negle­cted thine inspirations and admonitions, for that I have at any time loved ought be­ [...]ide thee, or without thee, for this, O my Lord God, for this doe I grieve: And I beseech thee, that thou wouldest give unto mee so much grace, as I may with all mine heart grieve a [...]d la­ment during everie moment of my life. Would to God that I might poure out and offer unto thee everie drop of my bloud with teares, for griefe and love, into thy most sweet heart. O sweet Jesu, I [Page 274] neither desire nor expect of thee life nor death, but thy good will and pleasure: may it be done unto mee ac­cording to thy will. If it be thy will, O my sweet Je­su, that I shall dye, receive my spirit: And although I come in the Evening, as the verie last of all, grant unto mee, that I may receive eter­nall rest with thee, and in thee. But if it be thy will that I shall live longer, O sweet Jesu, I purpose this, and I crave the assistance of thy grace for this, to amend the rest of my life, and to of­fer my selfe wholly as a burnt Sacrifice unto thee, to thy glorie, and according to thy good will and pleasure. O most desired Jesu, for as [Page 275] much as I have consumed my life in sin, to the reproch of thy glorious name, nor to this day have begun to serve thee: grant unto mee, that I may now at last per­fectly begin, and employ all the powers of my Soule an [...] Body, and all the remainder of my time given mee by thee, to thy glorie, and ac­cording to thy best and most perfect will.

O most mercifull Jesu, be thou neare mee in these my paines and miseries, with which I am straitened, and i [...] any more grievous than these shall come upon mee, for that I have deserved not onely more grievous, but most grievous by reason of my sins: grant that I may [Page 276] patiently beare them. O sweet Jesu, if I had never at any time sinned, nor at thine hand evilly deserved, not­withstanding to thy glorie, and for thy love, good will, and pleasure, I offer and re­signe my selfe unto thee, ei­ther in these or any other punishments, to deale with mee according to thy will, not my worth, but in the multitude of thy mercies, on which I relye, and on which I call, that by thy power thou wouldest raise and rouze up the frailtie of my flesh, and strengthen with longanimitie, and confirme with patience the pusillani­mitie and instabilitie of my Spirit: that I may not [...]all downe, as one either vanqui­shed [Page 277] with tentation, or faint through pusillanimitie: but swallowed up with the most burning heat of thy love, I may onely sigh after thee, onely desire thee, and leave, loath, and contemne the world, with all that is in it: giving thee thanks with all mine heart, for all things, whether ministring unto me occasion of joy or sorrow.

O most loving Jesu, I chuse thee, I wish thee, I de­sire thee, I meet thee, and I renounce whatsoever thou art not in mee: what thou willest, I will: what thou nillest, I nill: whatsoever thou abhorrest, I abjure. And though sometimes, that [...] is contrarie to this will in mee, may be incident [Page 278] unto mee, I beseech thee, O my God, that thou wouldst not impute it unto mee, nor judge mee according to that depravednesse of Will in mee, but according to this Election of my mind, by thy grace wrought in mee. Be­cause I contradict all those things which I ought not to will: yea, though (which for thy mercie sake avert) I hereafter vanquished, should consent unto, yet now doe I accurse and abjure them.

O most loving Jesu, if it please thee, and redound to thy glorie, grant unto mee that I may be pre [...]erved in this life from all sins and pu­nishments, into which after death I ought otherwi [...] to come, to which I am sub­ject, [Page 279] or may possibly come, and that thou wouldst re­ceive my Soule by the hand of thy mercie, immediately from this life to eternall joyes.

O Lord Iesu Christ receive my Spirit, &c.

AN ELEGIE OF S^t. Dionysius, a Car­thusian, of the judgement of death, and the sun­drie casualties thereof.

An Epistle of Ludovicus Blosius, written to an especi­all friend, upon the per­fecting and publishing of his worke entituled, The Parlour of the Soule.

BEhold thou hast, my dearely be­loved in Christ, Conclave animae. The Parlour of the Soule, which thou hast so long time desired. Having now lately written The spirituall Glasse, both for [Page 291] thy selfe and mee, I had purposed to have added nothing thereto: how­beit afterwards, I could by no meanes satisfie thy desire, unlesse I an­nexed unto it, The spiri­tuall Iewell, Crowne, and Casket, all which this our Parlour containeth. Which truly came later to the Presse than thou wished: but take it in good part, being done by the p [...]rpose and ordi­nance of God. Now if thou setting aside some­times thy more weigh­tie cares and employ­ments, become deligh­ted [Page 292] with the reading of such simple bookes as are published by mee (as thou seemest to be de­lighted) I doe advise thee that first thou en­ter into this Parlour, and diligently consider and discusse those things which are therein: And afterwards that thou take into thy hand that Psychagogia, which I have collected some yeares agoe, out of Au­gustine and Gregorie. For the doctrine of the Fa­thers set downe in these two Books, shall migh­tily comfort and con­firme [Page 293] thee being of so good disposition, and inflame thee to the love of God & thy heavenly Countrey. Let it not be tedious to thee ofttimes to read over these and such like devout works, yea, though thy reading afford small or no sweet relish to the palate of thine heart. For too de­licate is he, who casteth aside all such holy and wholesome directions as he had once read, or heard, and will not read nor heare them any more. I give thanks un­to my Lord Jesus, for [Page 294] that thy Brother, after such time as he had read over that Tract of mine entitled, Comfort for the weak hearted, and now by mee published, hee be­comes now lesse affli­cted with inordinate feare, than before. Let him ascribe that reliefe, as received solely from God and his holy Do­ctors, who speake unto him in that Tract of comfort. He does well surely, to grieve and sor­row for that hee hath offended God without measure or number all the by-past time of his [Page 295] life: neverthelesse hee is to have his affiance and confidence in the boundlesse sweetnesse of Gods mercie. Let him thinke how most of those who had slaine Christ, afterwards recei­ved pardon by beleeving in Christ: to the end truly, that all men should learne, that no crimes or offences are so grievous, which God most gracious and full of the fatnesse of mercie, will not forgive to such as are faithfull Converts and true Peni­tents before him. For it [Page 296] is an especiall propertie [...]est becomming our most holy God, to have mercie and spare these, who humble themselves before him, and heartily [...]eg pardon of him. Rightly doth thy Bro­ther confesse that at all times he is verie imper­fect: yet let let him re­member, that the imper­fect cost Christ as deare as the most perfect. That inconstancie or in­stability of mind, where­with hee saith, that hee is afflicted in his prayer, is common to innume­rable servants of God. [Page 297] There is no cause then that hee should be here­by so much amated. For if hee suffer this di­straction against his will, and strive wirh his best endevour to be­come attentive, his pray­er humbly poured forth in this distraction, is ofttimes more usefull and fruitfull, than if it were performed with great attention of heart. For God approveth his desire, affection, and de­vout endevour, and pur­geth the soule with such like griefes as these, or else conserveth and a­dorneth [Page 298] it being purged and purified from these distractions. Exhort him alwayes, that hee be of good courage. If with a patient and resig­ned heart, hee suffer for the love of God his af­flictions, and want of health, whereof almost hee daily laboureth, hee need not doubt, but so soone as he shall lay off this grievous, onerous, and bitter load of cor­ruptible flesh, hee shall enjoy eternall joy and health. Goe to then, my Beloved, let us ob­serve our selves, I pray [Page 299] thee, vigilantly, and so endevour to live circum­spectly, as becommeth true Christians, who beare both the style and state of Christianitie. Let us passe over all the residue of our present life profitably. In all things that wee doe, let us wirh sing [...]enesse of heart principally respect the praise and glorie of God. Let us love Iesus, who loveth us with a most ardent and unmea­surable love. For his honour let us mortifie in us as much as wee may, our owne proper [Page 300] and depraved wills and vices. Let us subject and conforme us in all things to Gods will. Let us beare a mind humble and resigned: continually desiring and studying to please God. For by this meanes wee shall at last come to that chiefe and most joyfull good: which that wee might possesse, wee were created to the image of God, and re­deemed with the preti­ous bloud of Christ. Wee shall come, I say, unto God, who is the amiable abysse & foun­taine [Page 301] of all light, life, beautie, excellencie, sweetnesse and abun­dance. Then shall wee be truly blessed, seeing the vision of all beautie infinitely exceeding and excelling all the sense-attracting objects of this whole world: for wee shall behold in the light of glorie the melli­fluous countenance of God, and in him, by a most sweet fruition of him, shall wee rest, and obtaine imperturbable peace. Then shall wee abound with unspeaka­ble joy, & shall be fully [Page 302] satisfied, and shall per­fectly love, and praise God for evermore. O how great felicitie is it to attaine to the cleare vision of God; and a­gaine, how great infeli­citie, to be deprived of it, and to be drenched in hell, and there horribly to be tormented with­out end! Farewell in the Lord, and pray for mee.

That excellent part of the Dialogue composed by D. Henricus Suso, wherein the praises and profits of affli­ctions are expressed, and ma­ny other precepts usefully delivered, some few dayes [Page 303] since I inserted in my Com­fort for the weake hearted, that I might gratifie thy brother. He shall easily procure it, so soone as it shall be reprin­ted. As touching the say­ings of the aforesaid Suso, which thou desirest should be sent unto thee, here re­ceive them, as I have compi­led them for thee, and addressed them to thee.

CERTAINE choyce or se­lect sayings of D. Henricus Suso.
Of the love of the world, And Of the love of God.

THat most holy and beloved man of God, Henricus Suso, lamenting the infelicitie of such, as intan­gled in vaine love, and wholly given over to this [Page 305] present world, doe neglect God and their owne salvati­on, exhibiteth his com­plaint be [...]ore God after this manner. Truly, O Lord, it is a thing much to bee la­mented, that so many hearts fit for holy love, so many ex­cellent and beautifull soules stamped with Gods image, which by a spirituall wed­lock with thee contracted, might become Q [...]eenes and Empresses, and have domi­nion over heaven and earth, should so foolishly and im­prudently estrange them­selves from thee, deject them­selves so basely, and perish so wittingly. Surely I am perswaded, that if the in­ward eyes of all men should so see thee, as I see thee, all [Page 306] transitorie love would be forthwith extinguished in them. I cannot sufficiently admire, O Lord, (albeit I stood sometimes far other­wise affected) that any ones soule should possibly rest in any thing but in thee, the most vast and unbounded depth. O incomprehensible good, and inwardly to be embraced! O most sweet Lord, how well is it with that soule which onely lo­veth thee, and which thou with the divine streames and beames of thy grace, excel­lently enlightenest, and to to thy selfe more nearely joynest and couplest! What heavenly and mellifluous consolation doth such a soule draw from thee, what [Page 307] secret delights of sacred love doth shee conceive in thee? Thou art the boundlesse Sea of most pure and inestimable pleasures. What amiable­nesse, comelinesse, beauty so­ever can by any meanes be conceived, all that above all measure, is to be found in thee plenteously stored. No­thing that is pleasant, grate­full, or plausible, can bee found in any creature, which is not in a most pure and ex­quisite manner infinitely more aboundant and excel­lent in thee. So often as I behold the formes of beauti­full objects, when I take a view by inward contempla­tion of heaven, earth, woods, and fields, and of the whole world, all these things seeme [Page 308] to convent, and summon my heart in these words: ‘Con­sider how amiable and beautifull he is, who hath made us, who is the foun­taine of all beautie.’ O Lord Jesus what joy doe I re­ceive from thee? Surely, while I doe thinke, how I am beloved of thee, the most high God; whatsoever is within mee, melteth through the joy which I conceive of thee. For this therefore doe I rejoyce in my mind, for as much as thou art so good, as thou vouchsafe [...]t to be my friend, as I constantly hope, and confidently trust.

Of the Passion of our Lord.

THe same Suso in a Dia­logue bringeth in the eternall wisdome, that is Christ Jesus, talking with his Minister of his Passion, after this manner: The heart of man is much more grate­full unto me, if it be freed of earthly love, and by perpe­tuall diligence intentive to imitate the excellent exam­ple of my life, than if hee should follow mee with con­tinuall laments, and should shed so many teares as there be drops of raine which fall from the aire. For in the [Page 310] suffering of my most bitter death, this especially have I intended & aimed, that men sho [...]ld imitate mee: albeit pious and devout teares bee likewise verie acceptable un­to me. If thou canst not re­member my most bitter Pas­sion with watrie eyes, doe it notwithstanding, with a cheerefull mind, for these unmeasurable good things which thou derivest from it. But if neither joyfully nor dolefully thou canst medi­tate of it, yet with a drie heart to my praise trace cur­sorily over it. For so shalt thou performe an office of observance, no lesse gratefull to me, than if with teares of compassion and sweetnesse of affection, thou shouldst [Page 311] wholly melt into a floud of devotion. For by this means shouldst thou effect a work through love, without re­spect unto thy selfe. But to the end that this my Passion may pierce nearer thine heart, and thou become more affected to it, heare what I shall speake unto thee.

The soule which hath bound her selfe in many sins, may with the treasure of my Passion so much enrich her, and apply it to her, that though she deserved a thou­sand yeares to be punished, and with a thousand kinds of exquisite tortures to be afflicted, in a short time both the sin and punishment due for the same may sue release, and in her passage hence [Page 312] comfortably depart in peace, and bee translated to hea­ven as her true resting place. But this must be done by this meanes; by weigh­ing and discussing with a contrite heart frequently and fervently the greatnesse and multitude of those odi­ous sins, wherewith so irre­verently shee [...]a [...]h offended the eyes of her heavenly Fa­ther; afterwards for works of Satisfaction, as hee is not to omit them, so is hee to disvalue them, as such, that if compared with his sins, they are no more than one drop of water in comparison of the maine sea; but hee is to advance and extoll wonder­fully the greatnesse of my Satisfaction, seeing the verie [Page 313] least drop of my pretious bloud, which everie where streamed from my whole bo­dy, had beene sufficient for taking away the sins of a thousand worlds: of which Satisfaction of mine, never­thelesse so much everie one applyeth to himselfe, as hee conformeth himselfe to mee in suffering with mee, and as hee humbly and seriously crowneth the smalnesse of his satisfaction, in the infi­nitenesse of my Expiation.

Of the holy Eucharist.

IN that selfe-same Dia­logue of Suso, the wis­dome [Page 314] incarnate discoursing of the holy Eucharist, saith to his Minister; The least gift that proceedeth from mee in the venerable Sacrament, shi­neth and beameth much more gloriously unto all e­ternitie, than any splendour of this visible Sun, and is much more brighter and clearer than the verie bright Day-star it selfe. Briefly, it adorneth thee much more excellently, by a certaine e­ternall comelinesse & beau­tie, than at any time any Summer, be it never so plea­sant, beautifieth the earth. But dost thou not (perhaps) doubt whether this most il­lustrious Divinitie of mine be more bright than any Sun, and my most excellent soule [Page 315] more sparkling than any Star, and my glorious body more delightfull than the pleasantnesse of any Sum­mer? All which in verie truth thou conceivest in the Eucharist. Where I am the Bread of life to the devout and well-prepared: but to the unworthy, who conti­nue by affection or action in mortall sins, I am a tempora­rie Plague here, and an eter­nal curse hereafter: for on these waiteth certaine dam­nation, unlesse they be re­conciled to mee by true re­pentance. Surely, if any one were endued with the natu­rall puritie of all the An­gels, & renowmed with the the integritie and sanctitie of all the Saints, and ador­ned [Page 316] with the good works of all mortall men; yet, though thus accomplished, were not hee worthy to receive mee in the Sacrament. But when man doth all that hee can, nothing more is required at his hands, seeing wha [...]soever is wanting through him, I supply in him. But far bet­ter it is to come to this ve­nerable Sacrament in love, than to abstaine from it through feare.

Of resigning, deny­ing, and mortifying himselfe.

SVso likewise wrote these singular sentences tou­ching [Page 317] resigning and denying ones selfe. A perfect life con­sists not especially in this, that thou abound in com­fort, but that thou submit and resigne thy will to the divine will. That thou hum­bly obey his will in the bit­ter sop of affliction, and the sweet syrupe of consolation; and that thou place and de­base thy selfe under the feet of all men. For nothing is more pleasing to the su­preme Angelicall spirit him­selfe, than in all things to sa­tisfie the divine will: In so much, as if hee knew that it would redound to the praise of God, to pull up nettles, or other weeds by the root, he would most de­siredly performe this taske [Page 318] before all others. There is no Resignation more per­fect or excellent, than to be resigned wholly in the for­saking of himselfe: neither ought any one to bee too much grieved in mind, if he have small experience of spi­rituall sweetnesse: Let him rather think how hee is un­worthy of it. A true Resig­nation of himselfe to the will of God, both in affaires cer­taine and uncertaine, with­out all doubt freeth and se­cureth man from all perils and occurrents, causing him to rejoyce with true peace in all things. So great is the pietie and benignitie of God, that hee can by no meanes at any time forsake him, who with a confident [Page 319] heart relyeth on his good­nesse, and recommendeth and resigneth himselfe wholly to his Divine Providence. True submission, depression, and abnegation of ones selfe, is the root of all ver [...]ues, of all health and happinesse. It grieveth one surely to bee wise and eloquent, and not­withstanding to be enjoyned silence: to be by others dis­esteemed, derided, iujuried, to heare himselfe calumnia­ted and traduced, and not to defend & revenge his cause: or for a wise and honoura­ble man to give place to a naughtie wretch, and one of no reckoning, a [...]d not to withstand it: and yet all this is nothing else surely than by deniall of himselfe, [Page 320] to become conformable to the excellent patterne of Christ. Now albeit, in suf­fering affliction wee be not alwayes of a mind equally resigned, yet are wee not to conclude therefore, that [...]ope of salvation is taken a­way, or the grace of God lost: so that wee doe not kick and rebell against God with a stubborne mind. Works, exercises, and in­structions, whether perfor­med with our owne proper will, or affection derived from it, although they may seeme joyes, yet are they of small consequence, so long as denying and resigning of our selves bee not joyned with them. It becommeth a man that is partaker of rea­son, [Page 321] to doe these works not out of a naturall propension, or appetite, like bruit beasts following the instinct of nature, but with reason, to the praise of God, and for the love of God, so as hee in no place seek his owne private gaine, delight, praise, re­ward, but onely God. So to deny, mor [...]ifie, and relinquish our selves ought wee, that wee may in no case refuse to bee disvalued, or suffer ad­versitie for God, that wee may diligently refraine both our tongue▪ and senses, suf­fering no inordinate delight to possesse us, or the desire thereof to surprize us. As a Plate or Lamell of gold set unto our eyes, doth no lesse hinder our sight, than a [Page 322] plate of iron: so it beho­veth us to renounce, and re­move from our minds all in­stable mortall creatures, be they never so noble, if wee will enjoy that most excel­lent Good, which is God. In true deniall, the whole Summe of Perfection consi­steth: without which none shall profit, what way soever hee turne him. Almightie God grant us grace, that with incessant endevour wee may perpetually strive to de­ny, mortifie, relinquish, re­signe, goe forth of our selves, and dis-esteeme our selves. Amen.

THE Contemplative Mans Exercise: Or Penitent Soules Sacrifice.

GOe to now, misera­ble man, flye a lit­tle thine occupa­tions, retire thy selfe for a space from thy tu­multuous cogitations. Lay aside now thine onerous cares, and set apart thy labo­rious distentions. Reserve thy selfe a while for God, [Page 326] and rest thy selfe a little in him. Enter into the cham­ber of thy mind, shut out all things besides God, and those things which helpe thee to seeke him, and ha­ving shut thy gate, seeke him. Say now, O my heart, say now; O my Lord, I seeke thy countenance, thy countenance, O Lord, doe I seeke. Goe to therefore now my Lord God, teach mine heart, where and how it may seeke thee, where and how it may find thee. O Lord, if thou beest not here, where may I seeke thee being ab­sent? But being everie where, why doe I not see thee present? But surely thou inhabitest a light inac­cessible. But where is that [Page 327] light inaccessible? Or how shall I come to that light in­accessible? Or who will guide mee, and bring mee to it, that I may see thee in it? Then, with what signes, with what face shall I seeke thee? I have not seene thee, O Lord my God, I have not knowne thy face. What shall hee doe, O most high Lord, what shall this thy forraine banisht one doe? What shall thy servant doe, doubtfull of thy love, and far casten off from thy face? Hee longeth to see thee, and thy face is far from him. Hee desireth to come unto thee, and thine habita­tion is inaccessible. Hee de­sireth to find thee, and knoweth not thy place. Hee [Page 328] affecteth to seeke thee, and knoweth not thy counte­nance. O Lord, thou art my God, and thou art my Lord, and I never saw thee. Thou hast made mee, and re-made mee: and all those good things which I have, hast thou bestowed on mee, and I have not yet knowne thee. Finally, to see thee was I made, yet have not I done that for which I was made. O miserable condition of man, to lose that for which hee was made! O hard and harsh chance is this! Out a­las, what ha's hee lost, and what ha's hee found? What is gone, and what abideth? Hee hath lost happinesse, for which hee was made, and hee hath found unhappi­nesse, [Page 329] for which hee was not made. That is gone, with­out which nothing is hap­pie, and that abideth which of it selfe is nothing but un­happie. Man did eat the bread of Angels, which now hee tastes not: now hee eats the bread of sorrowes, which then hee knew not. O the publique lamentation of men, the universall mour­ning of the children of A­dam! Hee flowed in all plenteous manner, wee sigh for hunger. Hee aboun­ded, wee fast. Hee happily possest, and miserably lost: wee unhappily need, and miserably beg: and alas, wee remaine emptie. Why did hee not keepe for us when he easily might, what [Page 330] we so grievously want? Why h'as hee thu [...] shut the light from us, and brought dark­nesse upon us? Wretched men, whence are wee expul­sed, and whereto are we for­ced? Yea, whither are wee headlong throwne, where overwhelmed? From our Countrey to exile: from the sight of God to our blind­nesse: From the joy of im­mortalitie, into the bitter­nesse and horrour of death. Miserable exchange! from how great good, to how great evill? Great losse, great griefe, nothing but griefes. But out alas for me unhappy wretch, one amongst the rest of the miserable children of Eve, divided from God, what have I done, what have I be­gun? [Page 331] Whither did I goe, whereto am I come? to what did I aspire, in what doe I now sigh? I sought for good, and behold trouble. I went towards God, and behold I became an offender against my selfe. I sought for rest in my secret paths, and I found tribulation and sorrow in my inward parts. I would have laughed through the joy of my minde, and I was enforced to rore through the griefe of mine heart. Joy was expected, and behold how sighes were increased! How long, Lord, wilt thou forget us? How long wilt thou turn thy face from us? When wilt thou look upon us, and heare us? When wilt thou enlighten our eyes, and shew [Page 332] thy face to us? When wilt [...]hou restore thy selfe to us? O Lord look upon us, heare us, enlighten us. Shew thy selfe to us, that it may be wel with us, without whom it is so ill with us. Have mercie on our labours and endevors directed to thee, who are a­ble to doe nothing without thee. Enlighten us, helpe us. I beseech thee, O Lord, let mee not despaire through fainting, but respire by ho­ping. I beseech thee, O Lord, mine heart is made bitter with her desolation, Sweeten it with thy conso­lation. I beseech thee, O Lord, I hungry have begun to seeke thee, let me not de­part fasting from thee; I hun­ger-starv'd have come unto [Page 333] thee, let me not depart unfed from thee. I poore come to thee rich, I miserable to thee mercifull, let me not depart empty and contemned: and if before I eat I sigh, grant that after my sighs I may eat. O Lord, I am become croo­ked, and cannot but looke downward, raise mee that I may looke upward: mine iniquities are gone over mine head, they overwhelme me, and as an heavie burden presse me. Free and disbur­den mee, lest the ditch stop her mouth upon me. Let me look upon thy light, though a farre off, though from the deepe. Teach mee to seeke thee, and shew thee to mee seeking thee: because nei­ther can I seeke thee, unlesse [Page 334] thou teach mee: nor finde thee, unlesse thou show thee. Let mee seeke thee by desi­ring, desire thee by seeking, finde thee by loving, love thee by finding. I confesse, O Lord, and I give thankes: because thou hast created in mee this thine Image, that being mindfull of thee, I might think of thee, and love thee. But so abolished is this image with the blemishes of vice, and so darkned with the smoake of sinne, as it cannot doe that for which it was made, unlesse thou renue, and reforme it. I presume not, O Lord, to pierce thine height, for I can by no meanes nor measure compare mine un­derstanding to it, yet I desire in some sort to understand [Page 335] thy truth, which mine heart beleeveth and loveth. Nei­ther doe I beleeve to under­stand that I may beleeve, but I beleeve that I may under­stand. For this, likewise, I beleeve, that unlesse I be­leeve, I shall not understand. Therefore, O Lord, thou who givest understanding to faith, give unto mee that I may understand so much, as thou knowest to be expedi­ent for mee; for thou art as wee beleeve, and this thou art which wee beleeve, true God, who livest and reignest world without end.

DEAHTS Memoriall.

NOw to shut up all, with that which closeth all, by im­posing a Period upon all; We are to consi­der, now when the sinfull soule beginneth to be loose­ned from these bonds of flesh,Pet. Dami­an. de Hor [...] [...]ort [...]. with what bitter terror shee is afflicted, with what stings [Page 337] of a biting conscience shee is distracted. Shee remembers the things forbidden her, which shee hath committed; Shee considers the things commanded her, which shee hath negligently contem­ned; she bemoanes those op­portunate times of repen­tance offer'd her, and which shee so fruitlesly apprehen­ded; shee bewailes that im­moveable article of strict re­venge, inevitably appro­ching her. She h'as had suf­ficient time of sojourning here; shee is now compelled to goe hence. Shee would regaine that which shee h'as lost, but she is not heard. Be­hind her, shee beholds the whole course of her fore­past life, all which shee ac­counts [Page 338] as one short pace. She casts her eyes upon her selfe, and collects the space of an infinite perpetuity. She laments therefore, in that she h'as lost, what in so short a space she might have got, the joy of all ages. She bemoanes her selfe, in that for so short a pleasure of fleshly delight, she h'as lost the unspeakable sweetnesse of perpetuall so­lace. Shee blusheth, in that for this substance which is subject to wormes, shee h'as neglected that which was to have beene ranked amongst Quires of Angels. Now she lifteth up the beames of her minde, and no sooner behol­deth the glory of immortall riches, than shee becomes confounded, for that she h'as [Page 339] lost them for the poverty of this life. Againe, when shee casteth her eyes under her in a despicable reflex upon the valley of this world, and eying it to be nothing but darknesse, but above her wonders at the beautie of that eternall light, she clearly sees, that it was night, and darknesse which shee loved. O that shee might but pur­chase some small remainder of time for repentance, what a sharp course of conversati­on would she take upon her? what and how great things would shee promise? with what vows of devotiō would shee enwreath her? In the meane time, while her divine eyes grow darke, while her heart beats, while her hoarse [Page 340] throat gaspes, her teeth grow by little and little black, and draw, as it were, unto them a certaine rust, her counte­nance becomes pale, and all her members stiffe. While these, then, and such like as forerunning offices of ap­proching death attend her, all her works and words pre­sent themselves before her; nay, not her very thoughts are absent, and all these bring in bitter testimony against their author. All these are heaped together before the eyes of her viewing them, so as, even those things which she shunneth to behold, she is inforced, though against her will, to take notice of. Be­sides all this, there is here an horrid troupe of Devils, and [Page 341] there a glorious traine of An­gels. By that which appears betwixt them, may be clear­ly perceived, which of them h'as most property in her. For if tokens of piety bee discovered in her, shee is cheared with the delights of an angelick invitation, and allured with the sweetnesse of an harmonious melodie, to go forth. But if the black­nesse of her merits, and the impurity of her foule and filthy life adjudge her to the left hand, presently with an intolerable terrour shee be­comes surprized, with the violence of a sudden force she is disturbed, dejected, in­vaded, and from the prison of miserable flesh violently haled, that to eternall tor­ments [Page 342] with bitternesse shee may be tugged. Now, after her departure from the body, who can utter what armed troopes or Squadrons of wicked Spirits lye in ambush for her; what treacherous traines furnished with cruell tortures besiege the way that receives her? And lest the soule should escape thē, legions of furies, as it were, in military rankes or batta­lions inclose her. This and [...]u [...]h like frequently to medi­tate of in thine heart, what else is it than to shunne de­lightfull blandishments, to be divorc'd from the world, and to shake off unlawfull motions of the flesh, and constantly to retaine the sole purpose of attaining [Page 343] perfection; Which that wee may doe, God for his mercy grant us. Amen.

Sedeo, Sileo, Signo. Deaths distinction.

O My soule,Bern. good is the death of the just, in respect of tranquillity, bet­ter in respect of novelty, best in respect of security. Contrariwise, the death of sinners is the worst, and rightly the worst, evill in losing the world, worse in parting from the flesh, but [Page 344] worst in that twofold an [...] guish of a worme never dy­ing, and a fire ever burning, and which is worst of all, in being deprived of divine contem­plation.

Of his Conception.
MEMORIALL I.

I Was not, and thou didst make mee; I had no being, and thou gave it mee. I was con­ceived in sinne, before I con­ceived [Page 346] what was Sin. Nature laid on mee a staine, before she brought mee to a visible state. My bloud was corrup­ted, before ever I entred. Tainted it was, when Eve was tempted and weakely consented. Thus did my pa­rents make mee forlorne, be­fore ever I was borne. Even then, whē the second skin was my coat, was Sin my Cogni­zance. Seeds of sin sprung in mee, before the Light tooke notice of mee: And these had their rooting from those that bred mee. Long before I had abilitie to sin, were all my members made instru­ments of sinne. Before I had the use of any sense, sin had made a slave of every sense. For mine eyes, while they [Page 347] were as yet sealed, sights of sin had enter'd thē. For mine eares, though they were as then closed, ayres of sin had pierced them. For my taste, before I enjoy'd it, an Apple had poyson'd it. For my Touch, before I employ'd it, had Eves pulse▪ soiled it. For my Smell, before I knew how to use it, had the steames of earth choaked it. I was shut up as one in darknesse: and darke I was within as well as without, by means of mine originall uncleanenesse. I conversed with none, none with mee: my mothers wombe was that living tombe which inclosed mee. Thus before ever I saw the Sun, became I a growing lump of sin Unable was I to commit it, yet apt [Page 248] enough to be conceived in it. Nothing I had about me, but what did staine me. The Ma­terials whereof I was made, I am asham'd to name. Ah! poore shell of corruption! impure shrine, or new-form'd piece of pollution! I as then knew not by whom I was made, how I was made, when or where I was made, or for what end I was made. Mise­rable ignorance! I knew her not in whose wombe I was conceived, nor that sin wherin I was conceived. I was as a stranger to my fathers house, yet was I daily in it. An Alien was I to my Brethren, yet li­ved I amongst them. And as a thing not knowne, Sojourn'd I amongst my Kinsmen. Ca­pable abilities had I both in­ward [Page 349] and outward, yet en­joyed I the benefit of neither. Without all sensible com­passion, a daily paine was I to my sickly mother. I lived as one dead, for many months together; and was fed, with­out seeking food, by course of Nature. I was as one clo­sed up, and might have no passage till the time appoin­ted. I increased daily, yet knew I not the meanes of my growth. He only who made and fashioned me, knew mee; long before I came out of the wombe, did hee know what would become of mee. Paths had he prepared for me, before I had knowledge how to walke in them. Hee had deter­mined mine end, before I re­ceived birth. Long time did [Page 350] I wrastle with my enforced restraint, labouring still to be freed; yet became I more miserable by my freedom than restraint. I wished, and yet I knew not what, I was the ve­ry least of a childe; what lesse then, could be my knowledge? I was weary of my bed, yet going out of it I was fit for nothing. By this I foretold how far I would be from be­ing content with my estate on earth; when my weake infancie could not bee con­tent with her condition be­fore my birth. In a better case was I when so incased, than when to the miseries of earth inthralled. A right world­ling was I, before I came in­to it, for I grew no sooner a little strong, than I grew to [Page 351] be weary of my former estate. Any one that had seene mee, would have thought there had been no sin in mee. But I became so naturalized a [...]inner as it was a taske no lesse hard for mee to put off sinne than nature. But as one kept in too long, like a new-fledg'd bird, I begun to flicker a little with my tender unset wings, and to leave my first nest. But sharply was she that bred me pained with mee before shee could bee discharged of mee. So unnaturall was I to mine owne before I entered the world. Gather hence what may bee expected from mee, after my entrie into the world.

Of his Birth.
MEMORIALL II.

I Thought I had got out o'th' Iayle: but I found one worser than that which I left. For having changed a Lesser world for a Greater, I found my miseries so much more numerous, as the place I came to was larger than the former. In the very be­ginning I shewed my selfe to my friends unthankfull; yet must they hold mee excused; for those salutes were natu­rall. They entertained mee with smiles, and I gratified them with teares.

Lachrymae were the onely [Page 353] musicall aires that usher'd mee to this vale of woes. My very first voyce implyed a prophecie: my teares fore­runners of my following miserie. I came into the world naked; whereas all o­ther creatures come cloathed and armed. With what joy was I received, while those that saw mee, cried, ‘How like is hee to his Father?’ And they said well, if they poin­ted at Adam, for his bloud made me his sonne, and like himselfe a sinner.

What a foolish part it was (had I well considered it) to see wise men rejoycing at the sight of one who was entring the Tyring-house of mourning! The Thracians, though Pagans, shewed [Page 354] themselves in this more Christians. These lamented their Babes birth, but rejoy­ced at their death. What great delight could any take in mee, when I came so bare into the world, as I brought not with mee one poore ragge to shroud my shame: and all the regreets I returned them, teares and shrikes? These deserved no great entertainment of joy. To see such a feeble thing, as could afford it selfe no suc­cour. An Infant Pilgrim, who could not find a tongue to beg him harbour! One, who wanted all things, yet could not tell it's owne [...]ants. This might rather move compassion than joy. And such a poore one was I. [Page 355] Nothing did I see that could please mee. Still were my late-unsealed eyes flowing, my seeble voyce shriking; nought but notes of miserie everie where resounding. And deserved these such pleasing entertainment? By my birth, I got nothing to my selfe, but teares; to my friends, nothing but cares and feares. To feed mee was their care; lest I should be better fed than taught was their feare. Sleepe, Food, and Shrikes, all which begot my parents trouble, were the best things I rendred them; and the whole expence of those houres, which I bestowed on them. Silly infancie! when that pleaseth the Pa­rent best, and batteneth the [Page 356] Infant most, which profiteth the world least, Sleepe. Small cause had my Parents to have joyed in my birth, had they considered how my entrie led mee into a maze of miserie, a vale of vanitie. How that small portion of flesh, which I brought along with mee, would in time prove my profest enemie. My first teares told the world that I had something in mee, which annoyed mee. My originall guilt struck teares into mine eyes, feares into my heart. Naked came I, as one stript of his coat. And this nakednesse came by the losse of my garment of innocence. My Grandfire never found himselfe naked, till hee had transgressed. [Page 357] Then, and never till then, flew hee to the bushes. But what avail'd it him to flye from his sight, whose eyes were in everie place? Small doubt but I would have ta­ken the same course, could I either have considered my guilt, or found feet to hasten mine escape. But I found an ignorance in the one; and a weaknesse in the other. Thus was I borne in sinne, before I could beare up my selfe. Yet for all this did my Pa­rents account of mee as a rich prize. Dandled must I bee till I sleepe; wrapt in warme cloaths; carefully nursed; tenderly used: and if my too deare Parents got but one poore smile from their Babe, they held their [Page 358] care and cost highly recom­penced. Thus begun I my life in teares, and continued it with feares, hopes, and griefes. Which made mee many times with heartie sighs in the privie chamber of mine heart, to conclude: Better was the day of ones death, than the day of his birth. And that the best thing that could bee unto man, was not to be borne at all: and the next, to dye soone. For what brought I into the world with mee, but pulleyes which haled mee along to miserie? And what bestowed the world on mee, when shee had received mee, but clouts and bands. The one to proclaime my povertie, the other my capti­vitie. [Page 359] So as, all the en­tertainement I had from this goodly Store-house of worldly happinesse, was want, and restraint.

Thus scarce able to creep, (yet distinguished by reason from all other creeping things) I at last got crawled from the state of infancie to childhood. Where, as I increa­sed in yeares (though insen­sible, and therein more mi­serable) I increased still in the measure of my wants and woes.

Of his Childhood.
MEMORIALL III.

NOw was I weaned from my Nurses milk, but not from my Grandhams sin. I begun with Christs Crosse, but soone was I tired with learning it; which shewed how quickly I would be afterwards wearied with bearing it. I held the condi­tion of any creature more happie than that of a Schol­ler. So as it was my desire (so soone did the heat of goodnesse, the hopes of to­wardlinesse expire) to learne in jest, but play in earnest. I found in my selfe a conceit [Page 361] apt enough for any sports; in these I could lesson o­thers: But in the Schoole of Vertue, I was ever slowest in reading, or taking out any such lesson to my selfe. How long seemed that day, when learning was enjoyned me for a taske? How speedie that houre, wherin libertie was gi­ven me to play? Thus like a Beare to the stake, was I haled to my booke, wherein I found afterwards the happiest state. Wandring, albeit not much harmfull fancies, begun now to seaze on mee. I was sel­dome contented, by being seated in that place where I was: nor with that sport I last affected. When I was in my fathers house, my de­sire was to bee in the field; [Page 362] when I was in the field, I longed to bee at home. My childish ambition (indeed) was not high. My delights, as they required no great cost; so were they purchased with lesse care. Easie and narrow were my desires; they aspired no higher than to points, pins, or cherry­stones. Trifles had so taken up my imagination, as it could reach no further. Yet in these weake vanities, my desire was to be a conquerour. Now when I found my selfe growne from my coat, my Parents fou [...]d no such thing in my conditions. Those were childish still, and held both their first shape and size. None ever breathed, that was longer time a child: or [Page 363] that longed lesse after the state and style of Man. My thoughts were so fitted to that age, as if that age were ever to bee master of my thoughts. I measured everie one by mine owne Last, and mused how any one could bee serious. I knew not what they meant by a deare Summer, or an unseasonable Harvest. These were the least and lightest of my cares: while I found plentie, I dreamed little of others scar­citie. Mine highest outrage was the breach of an Or­chard. Yet such inbred seeds were sowne in mee by his grace that made mee, as I thought this was not well done of mee. But whatso­ever I did in my selfe cor­rect; [Page 364] others were as apt quickly to corrupt. If other children approved it, I gave way unto it. I shap't my af­fection by their liking: my election by their loving. Thus went I on a proficient in nothing so much as folly. I wished for time after time to please my childish fancie: but never weighed the preci­ousnesse of time, nor how all things slav'd to time were vanitie. Few and weake were my desires; nor did they much differ from those of an inferiour creatures, being altogether for the present. How easily might any one have deceived mee with shadowes for substance; Esau in preferring a messe of pottage before his inheritance, [Page 365] was never more foolish, than I was in the estimate of my vanities. What a brave youth held I my selfe with mine Eldern Gun, Hobbie-horse, and Rattle? A poore pride, and yet rich enough for that time. What was onely before mee, seemed deare unto mee. Yesterday was too long for mee to re­member: and to morrow too long for mee to expect. I held the present day, the on­ly date of my pleasure. No day was to mee ominous, but if any were, none so much, as after a long Brea­king up, to returne to Schoole. I found in my selfe a naturall feare; but this proceeded rather from sight of the rod, than any propensitie to what [Page 366] was good. This feare taught mee first how to flatter; and this I began first to practise on my Master. What faire promises would I make him, in hope of one houres reprive from him! All things should bee amended; meane time, nothing lesse intended. Thus went I on in my chil­dish wayes; wise enough to be a Wag; too light, to bee truly wise. So as, I might be well compared to that Top, I so much used; which alwayes ran round, & never went for­ward, unlesse it were whipt. A true Truant, but a weake Proficient. Libertie I still desired, yet made no use of it. Books I loved onely for their Cover; Flowers and in­dented Letters I preferred [Page 367] before the matter. Thus was my childhood bestowed; though some glowing hopes rak't up in the embers appea­red; which did not a little glad their longing hearts which gave me nurture: but how these hopes ripened, you may hereafter gather.

Of his Youth.
MEMORIALL IV.

BY this time I had ser­ved two Apprentiships in the world. And was growne higher in stature, but for my dis [...]retion, it kept still the same measure. Yet turning over a new leafe, and recalling to mind my former [Page 368] life; I never lookt on what my childhood did, without a glowing blush. Yet for all this, might my childhood, if I [...]ad fallen back into it, been as much ashamed of what was done in my youth, as my youth was of what was done in my childhood. Now had I left my Scraple, Scourge, and Top with my Coat. For then in my heat of y [...]uth, did I hunt after pleasures of more height. Heavie hun­ting, when I made mi [...]e own darling a prey to my foe! I could walk in no place, but snares were laid ready for mee, to entrap mee; yet would not I so much as eye them, lest by taking notice of them, I should avoyd them, and so lose the plea­sure [Page 369] I tooke in them. Thus were my delights mounted to a fuller height; and quic­kened with more youthfull heat; both which beget in my now relenting soule a late, but heartie hate. Not a day passed over my head, without some spirituall hurt. The easiest of my va­nities were light amorous Poems. I held those, employ­ments for my best houres. O what a prize, what a bootie, held I a favour snatcht from a light piece of beautie? My fortunes were not great, which enjoyned mee to a spa [...]er expence. But if my small credit could supply what my fortunes wanted; I stickt not much on the me [...] ­nest commodities to make up [Page 370] that want. My melancholly ever proceeded from want of money. While Roring was in request, I held it a complete fashion. For Ci­vility, I held it for such a rag of unbeseeming Gentrie, as I scorned to take acquain­tance of it. I had long be­fore this, aspired to a pipe of rich Smoake with a Tin­der-box, and these gave light to my lighter discourses. I held my pockets sufficiently stored, if they could but bring mee off for mine Or­dinarie, and after dinner pur­chase mee a stoole on the stage. I had cares enough besides hoording; so as, I held it fit to disburden my selfe of that, and resigne it over to the worldling. A [Page 371] long winter night seemed but a Midsummer nights dreame, being merrily past in a Catch of foure parts, a deep health to a light Mistresse, and a knot of brave blades to make up the Consort. I could jeere Him to his face, who [...] I needed most, Ten at hun­dred, I meane; and he would not stick to pay mee in mine owne coyne. I might beg a courtesie at his hands, but to starve for't never prevaile; for herein I found this in­strument of us [...]rie and the Devill to be of one Societie▪ and that they craved no­thing of any one, save onely S [...]ouritie. A weake blast of light fame, was a great part of that portion I aimed at. And herein was my mad­nesse! [Page 272] I held nothing so likely to make mee knowne to the world, or admired in it, as to be debauch't, and to purchase a Parasites praise by my riot. It is not in mee; no, it is far from mee and my memorie, to recall to mind what miriads of houres that time mis-spended. Scarcely one poore minute can I be­thinke mee on, wherein I did ought, or exprest my selfe in ought, that might redound to his honour, whom now in mine age I have only sought. How tru­ly might I say in those daies, in those many evill dayes, I had beene secure, if Socie­ty had not made me impure? And yet must I be enforced to retract this too, if I desire [Page 373] freely to lye open my selfe, and speake what is true. For of all those Consorts, whose company I used, I found no Consort worse than my selfe. Yea, I confesse (and may this my confession be ne­ver without heartie contri­tion) that it is impossible for mee to remember, how many poore simple soules, who when they scarce knew how to sin, I taught them; when they were willing to sin, I perswaded them; when they withstood sin, I constrained them; when they enclined to sin, I consented to them. Yea, to how many I lay snares in the way where they walked, for how many I made pit-fals in the way when they sought it: And [Page 374] to the end I might not be a­fraid to commit, I feared no­thing at all to forget. (Aug. Med. c. 3.) O how often have I returned, after such time as I had mourned, to that v [...]mit which I seemingly loathed, and to that clay wherein I formerly wallowed? How strong were my promises; how weak my performance? What lesse then can I doe, than resolve my selfe into teares; that my bespotted soule may be rinsed; my ma­ny, innumerably many sins may be rinsed; my too secure soule from the grave of sin raised? With anguish of heart, and bitternesse of spi­rit will I therefore conclude, calling on him who is my trust: Lord forgive me the sins of my youth.

Of his Manhood.
MEMORIALL V.

WHen I was a Childe, I loved childishnesse: when a Youth, delicacie and wantonnesse. But being now come to Man, what can bee lesse expected than fruits of obedience? Fruits! Few, God knowes, and those bitter fruits. Never did man reade man more, and expresse man lesse. A long time had I been a stranger to my fathers house; Many yeares had I so­journed with the unwary Prodigall in a strange coun­trey. I had spent my portion, that faire portion of many [Page 376] rich graces, which my hea­venly Father had bestowed on me; I was driven to such want, as I was like to starve; yet would I not acknow­ledge my poore estate. Re­turne I would not to my fa­ther; nor crave any succour; though I was become a most miserable creature, a foule uncleane Leper, one utterly lost for ever, had not some kind-hearted Samaritan re­lieved mee in such time of danger. But Necessitie brings ever along with her some re­medie. I suffered my sore to be opened, that it might bee cured. I found my selfe sick, & I besought my Physician, my heavenly Physician, that hee would looke upon mee with the eyes of his compas­sion. [Page 377] And he came unto me, and healed mee: yet, with this condition, that I should sin no more. But I found the custome of sin too hard, and the continuance thereof too sweet to bee left so soone. No sooner had I recovered strength, than I returned to my former state. I found the abilities of nature too strong in me, to leave sin so speedi­ly. No sentence in all the Scripture was so fresh nor frequent in my memory, as, At what time soever a sinner doth repent him of his sin, &c. Ezek. c. 18. but I abused the Text, and by it promised to my selfe more libertie. I held it Security enough to sinne se­cretly. As one retired from the sight both of God and [Page 378] man, to promise more impu­nitie to sinne, I stickt not to say, Who seeth mee? But woe is mee! what was worst of all, and what without griefe of heart I shall never remem­ber: Though I saw many eyes upon mee, and that my exam­ple might have done good to many; for that in the opini­on of others, I was ranked both for knowledge and con­dition before many others; those whom I might by my uprightnesse have impro­ved, by my loosenesse of life I depraved. Which made me call to minde with much heavinesse of heart, what I had sometimes read: Of so many deaths is every one worthy, as he hath given evill examples to those that live with [Page 379] him, or left evill examples to those that shall succeed him. O my God (thus would I many times commune with mine owne heart) how many deaths have I deserved, who held it not enough to undoe my selfe, by taking upon me a liberty of sinning; but to undoe others too, by chal­king them out a way by my unhappie example for the like freedom of trāsgressing! This, I confesse, could not chuse but make me to o [...]hers most hatefull; my selfe to my selfe most distasteful. And yet for all this, swum I still in the same streame. Truth it is, that frō my youth up, whē as yet no early soft downe had cloathed my chin, I had takē a full perusall of my owne [Page 380] estate. I found in me, what of necessity might bee either corrected by me; or nought could I looke for lesse than misery. Some bosome sins like­wise I foūd in me after I came to mans estate w^ch ill became the condition of man, and I sought for cure of them. A­mongst these, one I culled forth more deare to me than the rest, and which neither day nor night would afford mee any rest. And I found meanes to remove it, or to weane mee from it; and I ap­plyed them, but got no helpe by them, because I mis-ap­plyed them. for I well re­member, after such time as I had beene advised, what di­rections to use, to allay, if not take away, the poyson of [Page 381] that darling sin wherewith I was infected; I tooke great care for a while, to observe whatsoever was injoyned mee: and to neglect no meanes to procure my safe­ty. First, I shut my windowes; I admitted no treaties; I ab­stained from dainties. Se­condly, I suffer'd not my thoughts to converse with lightnesse. Thirdly, I presen­ted my suit to that High Court of Requests, for more assistance. Fourthly, I sub­jected my flesh to holy Disci­pline and obedience. Fifthly, I meditated of Death; and how this dainty pampered flesh would in that time turne to deformitie and rottennesse. Sixtly, I imparted my griefes to my Superiours, to receive [Page 382] the benefit of their godly counsell and holy prayers. But flesh and bloud became soone weary of this Taske. Which I no sooner negle­cted, than I made relapse in­to that malady, which du­ring all the time of my spiri­tuall exercise, was well as­swaged. Thus in my entry to the state of man, after such time as I was gone downe to the Grave, and that the Pit had nearely received mee; had not my good God taken pity of mee, and showne the light of his Countenance upon me: even then, I say, was I no sooner set againe on my feet, then I returned to my accustomed filth. And though Manhood had swal­lowed up my [...]outh; yet did [Page 383] my Manhood taste lesse of Man than my Youth.

Of his Age.
MEMORIALL VI.

BEhold! how hee who would not remember his Creator in the dayes of his Youth; nor remember that hee was a man; is now come to that feeble estate, as hee can scarce remember himselfe. Now are those Evill dayes come on me, wherein I may say, I have no pleasure in them. Now, and never till now, feele I the keepers of my house to trem­ble, and the strong men bow themselves, and the grinders cease, because they are few, [Page 384] and those that looke out of the windowes bee darkned: Now I feele the silver coard loosed, the golden bowle bro­ken, the pitcher broken at the fountaine, the wheele broken at the Cisterne. (Eccles. 12.) And yet is there none so old, but hee hopes to live one yeare longer; though the longer he lives, his miseries increase in number. But what am I now, who have seene so many evill dayes; and lear­n [...]d so much by others fol­lies; and read man over and over in every volume? Sure, either now or never there is some appearance of grace, when there is so neare ap­proach to my Grave. To be old in yeares, and young in houres, is an unchristian piece [Page 385] of Arithmetick. Neither can there be any sight more un­seemely, than to see an old man, gray in haires, and grave in yeares, to have no other argument to prove his years, but his haires. I am now gathering my vessels in the haven: Neither doe I find ought without me, that may so much cheare mee, as to hold me one minute longer from my Countrey. I have passed the Maine, and am come a Shore. And yet I must put forth a little further, be­fore I can reach my wished Harbour. I have already en­tered the Suburbs; my weake Age tels me I draw neare the Walls. And yet I feele many things wanting in mee, that tell me, I am not so well fur­nished [Page 386] as I should be. I finde, indeed, in me no great abili­tie to sinne, but what of all that? Did my will to sin die, while I had ability to sin? If it did not; all this is no­thing, nor shall advantage me ought at my ending. For hee who ceaseth from sinne when hee can sinne no more, cannot be said to leave sinne, but sin to leave him. There is not one servant in all my Meniey that is able to doe a­ny service for mee; not one living power or faculty that can discharge that peculiar office they owe mee. It is high time for mee then to shut up shop, and to leave my Trade; my too long trading in sinning, wherein I have spent so many houres (never [Page 387] to be recalled) of precious time. I am now esteemed of, but as some old moath-eaten Calendar without date. If I talk like to one of my yeares; unseasoned youth jeeres such gravity; if I speake ought below my selfe, straight am I taxed of levity. If I doe ought youthfully, it ill be­comes mee; and if I doe like my selfe, gravely, that di­stastes me, because it dislikes them whose company de­lights mee. I have greene thoughts shrowded under gray locks. So as, it seemes I dif­fer in nothing from what I was at first, but only in haire, and unable limbs. For I have a will to doe what I did, if I had abilitie to doe what I would. Never was decrepit [Page 388] thing more strong in will, more weake in power. I am now made use of, like as of some aged sullied Record; only brought forth to looke upon, and then laid aside. Would I but know what a small portion of worldly meanes might suffice mee; seeing Nature hath now drawne out my threed of life to the full length; I could not but confesse that my small remainder of dayes now left mee, had a compe­tencie to serve mee: yet, while I have one foot in the Grave, my desires are more deepe than the Grave; more thirstie than the Earth, to which I am every moment drawing nearer, though in my earthly affections daily [Page 389] stronger. There is nothing in all my house of lesser use than my selfe; neither is my body halfe so weake as my minde. My life is but at best, a dying sleepe. Nor bee my cares ever at better rest, than when I am asleepe. The most that can be now said of me, is this; He was a man in his time. But that time is done; for now I turne Child again; and cannot for a world help my selfe, so neare am I to the brinke: yet see what light thoughts sparkle out of this dead Turffe! My eyes dar­ken; my teeth blacken; my heart heateth; my hoarse throat ruttleth; my counte­nance hath lost her colour; all my powers and motions their vigour: yet can those [Page 390] darke eyes look and long af­ter anothers Farme; those teeth grate and grinde themselves for revenge; that poore beating throbbing heart wish for a longer life; that seere and sallow counte­nance desire to looke young; those decayed powers wish to be strong. My friends put me in mind of my Will: and my sicke soule answers them with a sigh: Friends, advise him to forget his Will: for it was that onely which undid mee and him. But my out­ward house must not bee yet disposed of; I love it too well to leave it. Yet a little; and yet a little. Spare mee but a very little; I finde not my selfe altogether so weake, as my weaknesse should yet stand [Page 391] in need of a Will. Thus doe I love to deceive my selfe; while that strong man stands at the doore, readie to ar­rest mee. I daily see how those who are every way stronger, are enjoyned to pay their debt to Nature. But this I apply not to my selfe; I looke still for some dayes to bee added to my life. None so weake, but hee is fit for some worke. Though I can neither digge, nor delve, nor fashion my selfe to any hand-labour; I can devise how to make my Barnes larger: But what is all this to setting of my house in Order? Alas! How long have I wearied my selfe with these wayward cares? How long have I beene in [Page 392] preparing, and am still un­prepared? What a stirre I made for a state, and still neglected my inward state? yea, what got I for all my cares, but an unhappie in­heritance of hopes and feares? And what were my hopes, but from those things, from whence I could not expect for either hope or helpe? And thus I keep my Couch; no lesse fearfull to lose what I alreadie have; than I was sometimes carefull to get, what I now have. Woe is mee! shall I therefore neg­lect Heaven, because Hea­ven h'as dealt so bountifully with me? Shall that which I now scarcely enjoy (for I en­joy it without joy) deprive mee of my chiefest joy? Here [Page 393] I feele all the infirmities of Nature; there I shall par­take a Lasting youth, and with it abundance of pleasure. Yet these worke weakly on mee. I would faine build my Tabernacle here. And yet I finde no great comfort here. For what may I bee said to enjoy, that I possesse? Attendants indeed, of Old age I have many, and such as cleave neare mee. But for ought else without mee, I cannot challenge them pro­perly; because a very short time shall impropriate these to my posteritie. Those things then that grieve mee, I have; nor will they leave mee till I goe to my Grave: But those things that should cheare mee, I have not: for [Page 394] they must shortly leave mee, or I them; when Corrup­tion shall bee my Mother, and Wormes my Brethren and Sisters. Thus hath my life beene as a Tale that is told: Sphinxes riddle is now made good in me: my second child­hood records mine aged in­fancie. My age h'as made time change my Tence; I WAS, and that is all can be said of mee.

His Pleasures.
MEMORIALL VII.

SOme will thinke it strange, that Age should be a fore-runner to Pleasure; and will dislike mee for ran­king them in this manner. But if they knew my aime, they would quickly rectifie their censure, and approve of mine order. For I doe not here treat of Pleasure, as a sub­ject fore Age, to delight in: for rare were that delight (unlesse it receive life from above) that could suit well with it. No; my meaning is to take a Survey (not with­out teares) of all those Plea­sures [Page 396] which my vaine youth affected; with those which my riper age frequented: with these which my decli­ning time (these few and e­vill dayes of mine) have pur­sued. And in the review of these, I finde those Pleasures of my youth, full of vanitie; yet not enthralling mee to so much miserie, as those of my riper growth; nor those so dangerous, as these of mine age. Everie time brought with it a new tide. In the first prime of my youth; I made choyce of such delights as sorted best with my fancie; wherein I shewed such agili­ty, as few in the exercise of them surpassed mee. But in these I found much vanity: for they either wearied mee, [Page 397] or they were weary of mee. The beasts of the field be­came my prey; while I be­came a prey to those beasts within. In these an easie Am­bition tooke mee; contending with those who were given to like sports, for the ma­sterie. This, I must con­fesse, was neither greatly harmfull nor usefull. Those poore Creatures which I had in chace abroad, could have done mee little harme; had not my passions wrought mee disquiet at home. Which, though they assailed and as­saulted mee, yet did they not wholly surprize mee. And yet did I many things, which beget in mee now a glowing shame. My youth was not so well seasoned, as to use plea­sure [Page 398] as it should be used. I was too hot in the quest and pursuit of it, to shew any discretion in the exercise of it. And too strongly was I fixed on those poore Objects, wherewith my unstayed eyes were fed, to make use of what mine eyes beheld, for mine inward good. But long did I not bestow my selfe on these: for when I came to more yeares, I abandoned those pleasures I pursued at first; I betooke mee to those that seemed more manly; but I found by bitter experience, that they onely seemed so: for these are they who now sting mee like Adders, and af­flict my troubled soule with a thousand terrours. For in those times I well remem­ber, [Page 399] with what securitie I used to sit in my Summer-Arbour. How my thoughts were only laid to satisfie my loose desires. Let us take our fill of pleasure; thus I talked with my wandring senses. And quickly opened they their windowes to let sin in; but no passage found I by them to let sin out. They cried with the Horse-leach, more, more. I found them as insatiable as Hell, or the Grave. Yea, when strength of na­ture failed, and the powers of sin became weakened, my wanton Will supply'd, wher­insoever my abilitie wanted. Thus in my strength, was I led away captive; nor could I redeeme my liberty for ma­ny yeares. This caused mee [Page 400] many times in the chamber of my heart to peruse the story of Sampson: who, when hee was strongest, shewed himselfe weakest, in disclo­sing his strength to a Dalilah. And this, mee thought, came neare mee; I could never read it, but I was stinged with it. For at that time was I in my full strength; and conceivingst state. I had improved my helps by dis­course, and behaviour of my selfe, by reading bookes and men. In the one I read what should bee done; in the o­ther, I beheld whatsoever was either praise-worthy, or otherwise done. None could disguise himselfe from the world more; or seemingly impeach his honour lesse. [Page 401] But what was the issue of all this? A double sinne could receive no lesse than a double scourge. Halt with man, I might; with God, I could not. The longer hee defer­red; the more hee inferred. In that sin, wherein any one is most delighted; shall he be punished. Sweet meat must have sowre sauce. I consi­dered (but too short time did those thoughts lodge with mee) that these plea­sures were but for a moment, but no lesse space than Eterni­tie ended the torment. I consi­dered too, how that Eternitie depended on this Moment. Yet, for all this did I enlarge mine heart unto pleasures. The day seemed long, where­in I did not enjoy them: the [Page 402] night long, wherein I thought not of them. I knew what sinne it was to sollicit a Maid unto light­nesse; or to be drunken with wine, wherein was excesse: or to suffer mine heart to be oppressed with surfetting and drunkennesse: yet, for all this, run I on still in mine evill wayes; and so continued till my evill dayes came up­on mee; which fitted them­selves for pleasures too, but of another degree, and in an higher straine of vanitie.

Alas, poore decrepit age! what pleasure can the whole world find for such a Crip­ple? Thine eyes are too dim to discerne beautie; thy lame legs can find no feet, to walke to the house of the [Page 403] strange woman. Thy May-flowers no sooner withered, than thy May-games ended. Uselesse yeares, Hawthorne haires, fruitlesse cares stick close to thee; all things else (saving onely these constant companions, the infirmities of age) have long since left thee. The least distemper begets in thee a surfet. Young men, when they see thee merrie, laugh at thee; because thy mirth so ill be­comes thee. Old men wag their heads at thee, seeing thee doe what so ill-beseems thee. Thou hast had already enough of the pleasures of sin: let the younger brood now enjoy what thou hast tasted. And yet this must not be. That man were too too [Page 404] old, for whom the world could not find one pleasure to fit his age. This to my griefe, I found in my selfe. Old sores are ever hardest to bee cured; and vices in old age most desperate. Heare then my distemper; and to cure it, afford mee your pray­ers and teares to my Saviour. The lesse I need, the more needfull am I in my desires. I have more than a compe­tence to maintaine mee du­ring this short remainder of my pilgrimage, lent mee. And yet this will not serve my turne: my mouth is halfe filled with gravell; and yet are not my desires filled with what they enjoy. And thogh my verie nailes might serve for a spade to dig my grave; [Page 405] they had rather be moulded and be rusted with telling of coyne. Though I can scarcely see it when I ac­count it: this sufficeth mee, without hope of enjoying to hoord it. My whole Li­brarie is brought into one volume: & that penn'd with no great art. My cash-keeper lookes to it, and I to him, lest hee corrupt it. This vast volume bears this title, Cre­ditor and Debitor. But for my Debts, I owe few; save onely to Him, to whom I owe my selfe. Meane time, I am so far from discharging it, as I scarcely vouchsafe to acknowledge it.

O lessen in mee these un­happie cares; that it may be henceforth my whole care, [Page 406] to apply to this old sore a speedy cure. Let mee not onely speake it, but thinke it: Vanitie of vanities, and all is but vanitie, save onely to please God, and to serve him.

His Labours.
MEMORIALL VIII.

MY breeding was such, as it never acquainted mee with any Hand-labour. Neither was my constitution so strong as to endure it: nor my disposition so low as to brooke it. Free-bred were my Studies: so as, Lap­wing-like, with shell on head, I begun to write, before my yeares could well make mee [Page 407] an Author. But hence my teares! The Subjects I made choyce of, were of Love; to close with my fancie, which was verie light. I was proud in bearing the title of a Wri­ter; which, I must confesse, together with the instancie of such as either truly ap­plauded mee, or deluded mee, made mee ambitious after the name of an Author. And what were those light Poems I then penned; but such as are now pensive Odes to my dolorous soule, grieving to peruse what my youth so dearely loved? O how familiar was I with Parnassus, Helicon, Hippo­crene, and all the Muses! Meane time, I seldome or never thought of that hea­venly [Page 408] Olympus, which crowns all vertuous Labours with true happinesse. It was the saying of an holy Fa­ther;Aug. Med. 4. ‘Those studies which I once loved, now con­demne mee; those which I sometimes praised, now disparage mee.’ Far more cause have I to say, how, Those Labours which I once fancied, now afflict mee: those which sometimes de­lighted mee, now perplex mee. I am many times in company, where I heare some of my youthfull verses repeated: and though I doe neither owne them, nor praise them: yet must I in another place answer for them, if hee, on whom I de­pend, shall not in these teares [Page 409] which I shed, drowne the memory of them. For alas! how many chaste eares have I offended; how many light eares have I corrupted with those unhappie workes which I have published? What wan­ton measures have I writ for the nonc't, to move a light Curtezan to hugge my con­ceit; and next her Venus and Adonis, or some other im­modest toy, to lodge mee in her bosome? Light stuffe, to be entertained in so flourish­ing a state! O how the re­remembrance of these doe grieve me! When that Ta­lent, which might have beene employed to Gods glory; became a Forge of lightnesse and vanity! O how much better had it beene for mee [Page 410] to bury it, than to use it to his dishonour, who gave me it! Was this the triall of wits, to make choice of no other Theame, than what corrupts best wits? Was Learning made to no other end, than to make lines, so ma­ny lures; to take a mod [...]st eye; or worke on an easie minde; or to lead a poore deluded Soule to Hell? Was wit gi­ven to be exercised in wan­tonnesse; or to prostitute it selfe, only to please it selfe, with lightnesse? Unhappie Wit, that is so employed! Ill-goven'd Learning, that is so bestowed [...] We cry out of the Devill (and good cause have we to doe so) for temp­ting our Grandam Eve, and deceiving her with his sub­tiltie; [Page 411] tell mee then, what age, sex or degree may not justly cry out of such as mee, who have tempted our Grandams children so often with our ribaldry? Well might that devout Father call Poetry, the Devils Wine; to make men and women drunke with their pro­phanenesse; abuse them with their lightnesse: But woe is mee! it was not all kindes of Poetry that he con­demned. For what sweet and heavenly wits have been employed in Poesie? What devout teares have their di­vine workes begot? What holy motions, heavenly fan­cies have these bred? Poesie then is a divine influence; and the choice of the Sub­ject [Page 412] makes the difference. This I speake not in defence of my selfe, but in defence of it which I have so much abu­sed. For many sweet Poems have I read, which could not chuse but beget in an at­tentive Reader many good thoughts: and whose In­ventions, whether they were couched in prose or verse, de­serrved of all cleare judge­ments, their applause; and these live to posterity; be­cause they enlivened vertue: & set up such a Light upon the Altar of devotion, as shal never go out. But these I fol­lowed not. Let my teares therefore be many; because the fruits which others rea­ped by my Labours, were but few. Neither was I onely [Page 413] vers'd in these. For being put on by my Superiours, at whose dispose I was, I ad­dressed my pen to Labours Historicall, Morall and Di­vine. Neither was I in these lesse blame-worthy: for even Those, wherein I should on­ly have aym'd at Gods glo­ry, had ever in them some sprinklings of vaine-glory: Nay, what was more; (for enough I cannot speake to my owne shame;) Those Cardinall vertues whereof I treated; and which to the imitation of others I com­mended; found ever the worst example in my selfe. Which could not chuse but redound to my great disho­nour; to see mee the least observer of that, which I [Page 414] commended to another. Likewise, those Theologicall vertues, which in those my Diviner Workes, I so highly honoured; with those se­ven Beatitudes, the practice whereof I so much pressed; where found they my imita­tion in them, to confirme my admiration of them? Now tell mee, was this all that might bee required of mee? Was it sufficient for mee to commend to others, what I meant not to amend in my selfe? Was this the duty of an Author? Whe­ther bee our lives to bee showne in our pens, or our pens in our lives? Truth is, for one Active man, we have [...]en Contemplative. Amongst which, none ever professed [Page 415] more, and expressed lesse, than my selfe. I could some­times say, and confirme it with a vow; That I could ne­ver dictate with tongue, nor relate with pen, what I con­ceived not first in heart. But none could finde this in me, that did reade me; or by con­versing with me, found mee. So as, withdrawing my selfe a little aside from [...]he world, and considering my owne fearfull estate, whom even ripenesse of time, cals out of the world: I goe on many times in this Appeale to my selfe. ‘Looke, I pray thee, looke, a little on thy selfe: and let no strange eye see thee, nor eare heare thee, nor tongue judge thee but thy selfe. What hast [Page 416] thou writ; or of what hast thou writ? Of love; of Love! but didst thou not corrupt that style, and make it Lust? Yes; hea­vens know, thou didst. A­gaine, didst thou chuse a better subject? how didst thou handle it? wel enough in thy line; but too too ill in thy Life.’ O then, let it be thy Labour, in this thy small remainder, to begge forgivenesse of Him, whom thou didst so much disho­nour: and if ever there bee spent by thee more Lampe-light on those Studies, let Him onely have the praise, who rewards [...]ery faith­full Labourer in the Evening, and gives to his Labour suc­cesse.

His Life.
MEMORIALL IX.

LIfe is a Race, or progresse to Death. The House I sojourne in, a Tent or Taber­nacle. The People I converse and consort with, as I am, and all our Fathers before us, Pilgrims. Every day h'as his date; yesterday was nor as to day, nor to day as to mor­row. Two things there are, which makes mee ever to wonder, the more I thinke of them. The one is, to heare a Stranger (as we are all) to breathe out so many long­ing wishes, languishing de­sires: ‘O that I were at [Page 418] home! O that I were in mine owne Countrey!’ And what home is this hee meanes? Is it his owne home? his owne native Countrey? No; It is his earthly Taberna­cle. Perchance he liveth (if a Pilgrimage may be properly called a Living) farre in the North, and upon occasion he is call'd up to the South; O how tedious are his houres till he returne! yet was hee as neare his Countrey, before as now. The Latter is, to see a poore way-faring man (as we are all) when he is in his journey, and wearied with Travaile, overload himselfe, as if hee purposely meant to fore-slow his speed to his Countrey: Or set himselfe on building in the way, as if he [Page 419] had quite forgot the place whereto he was to goe. This I am sure, is my estate. Albe­it, I have found even in those who would have highly re­joyced in enjoying that light which I am call'd to; and no doubt, would have made far better use of it, than I doe; excellent resolves touching their contempt of earth: al­though their understandings were so darkned, as their mis-guided thoughts could mount no higher. These could conclude; ‘Whereso­ever we be, we are in our Countrey, and our Coun­trey with us, so it be well with us.’ But well it can­not bee with us, so long as Passions of the minde disquiet us within, and Infirmities [Page 420] enfeeble us without. I heare some call this Life a Prison; but yet these who call it so, live not like Prisoners. De­lights and Delicacies be­come not Fotters. Nay, if we truely held it a prison; wee would desire our libertie: but we either know not, or ac­knowledge not our misery. Others can call it a Banish­ment; others a Punishment; others a Death. But if a Banishment, why wish wee not to be restored? if a Pu­nishment, why seeke wee not to bee released? And if a Death, why sleepe wee in it, and desire not to be raised? No; no; these are but words in the aire. Like such as com­mend Abstinence, in their Surfets; or discourse of Mor­tification [Page 421] in their Cups. Not one of these, who com­pare themselves to prisoners, would be, if they might bee, freed; Nor one of these Exiles, infranchised; Nor one of these who hold themselves thus punished, de­livered; nor one of these who hold themselves Dead­alive, revived. This I am sure, is my case: Though I finde all things in the World to bee nothing but Vanitie; and of those, Man the greatest Va­nitie; and of all men, my selfe th [...]lest of Vanity. For I have rejoyced all my dayes, in a thing of nought. And I thought still in mine heart to put farre away the evill day, by approaching to the Seat of iniquitie: but I found that [Page 422] the eyes of the Almighty were upon mee, and that I groped but in Darknesse, to wound my selfe. Wretched man! How long have I been in a miserable state, and knew it not? How long have I beene a Stranger to my Fa­thers house, and returned not? I have read it, Deare Lord, in thy Book; and I have found it by experience in that publike Register of mans mortality: how this Life is truly com­pared to a Course, to a Roast; and what swifter? To a Wea­vers shuttle; and what [...]ic­ker? To a Tale that is told; what shorter? To a Shadow; what sooner vanishing? To Grasse; what sooner withe­ring? To the Tracke of a Ship; what lesse appearing? [Page 423] To the Flight of a Bird; what more speedily gliding? Yet for all this have I loaded my selfe with thicke clay; as if I were too fleet in my course to heaven, and needed trash­ing. But would you know in what places, I have beene most versed; and with what persons, most conversed? I shall render you a just Ac­count; meane time, what Account I shall make for my mis-spent houres, heaven knowes.

After such time, as my Parents had brought mee up at Schoole; to get mee an inheritance in that, where­with no earthly providence could endow me; I was sent to the Vniversitie; where (still with an humble ac­knowledgement [Page 424] of others favours and seasonable ende­vours) I became such a Profi­cient, as Time call'd mee, and Examination approv'd mee for a Graduate. And in these Studies I continued, till by universall Voice and vote, I was put upon a Task, whose Style I have, and shall ever re­taine, the Sonne of Earth; Terrae Filius. From the per­formance of which exercise, whether it were the extraor­dinary favour which the Vniversitie pleased to grace mee withall, or that shee found some tokens in mee of such future proficience as might answer the hopes of so tender a Mother, I know not: but, sure I am, I recei­ved no small encouragement [Page 425] both in my studies and free tender of ample preferment. And too apt was I, to apply this the worse way. For this extraordinary grace begot in mee a selfe-conceit of my own worth: ever thinking, that if this had not procee­ded from some more deser­ving parts in mee: that rich Seminary of all Learning would not have showne so gracefull a Countenance to­wards mee. Notwithstan­ding, I laboured by that Grace which was given mee, to suppresse this Opinion in mee; and humbly to ac­knowledge my wants and weaknesse in all; my abilitie in nothing. But applause is a dangerous Eare-ring: which I found by giving too easie [Page 426] eare to my owne praise; w^ch, as it deluded my judgement, so it expos'd me to censure. True, too true I found it, that in the sight of our owne Parts, wee need no borrowed lights. This it was, and onely this that induced mee to put my selfe forward in Publique Exercises with much con­fidence: wherein (such happinesse it is to bee pos­sest of opinion) I seldome or never came off with dis­grace.

Having for sundry yeares together thus remained in the bounteous bosome of this my Nursing-Mother; all [...]hich time, in the freedome of those Studies, I reap't no lesse private comfort, than I [Page 427] received from others incou­ragement; I resolved to set my rest upon this, to bestow the most of my time in that place, if it stood with my Parents liking. But soone was I crossed by them in these resolves: being injoy­ned by them to turne the course of my Studies from those sweet Academick Ex­ercises, wherein I tasted such infinite content: and to be­take my selfe to a profession, which I must confesse sui [...]ed not well with my dispositi­on: for the fresh fragrant flowers of Divine Poesie and Morall Philosophy could not like well to be removed, nor transported to those thorny places and plashes of the Law. But no remedy; [Page 428] with an unwilling farewell I tooke my leave of Philoso­phy; to addresse my Studies to that Knowledge, which at first seemed so far different from my element; as if I had been now to be moulded to some new Dialect; for though I was knowne to most tongues, I became a meere Novice in this. Here I long remained, but lightly profi­ted: being there seated, where I studied more for acquain­tance than knowledge. Nor was I the onely one (though a principall one) who run deeply in areeres with time; and gulled the eyes of opi­nion with a Law-gowne. For I found many in my case, who could not recom­pence their Parents many [Page 429] yeares charge with one Book-case.

Yet amidst these dis-re­lishing studies, whereto I was rather enforced than en­clined: I bestowed much precious time (better spent then in Tavernes and Bro­thells) in reviving in mee the long-languishing spirit of Poetrie, with other Mo­rall Assayes; which so high­ly delighted mee, as they kept mee from affecting that loose kind of libertie, which through fulnesse of meanes, and licentiousnesse of the age, I saw so much followed and eagerly pursued by ma­ny. This moved mee some­times to fit my buskin'd Muse for the Stage; with o­ther occasionall Present­ments [Page 430] or Poems; which be­ing free-borne, and not mercenarie, received grace­full acceptance of all such as understood my ranke and qualitie. For so happily had I crept into Opinion (but weake is that Happinesse that is grounded on Opinion) by closing so well with the temper and humour of the time, as nothing was either presented by mee (at the in­stancie of the noblest and most generous wits and spi­rits of that time) to the Stage; or committed by mee to the Presse; which past not with good approvement in the estimate of the world. Neither did I use these pri­vate Solaces of my pen, other­wise than as a play onely to [Page 431] the imagination: rather to allay and season more seri­ous studies; than accoun [...] them any fixt imployment. Nor did I onely bestow my time on these; for I addres­sed my selfe to Subjects of stronger digestion; being such as required more maturitie of judgement, though lesse pregnancie of invention: relishing more of the Lampe, than those Lighter measures which I had formerly pen­ned: wherein I grew as strong in the opinion and reputation of others as be­fore. This I must confesse, begot in mee a glowing heat and conceit of my selfe: but this I held an easie er­rour, and the more dispensa­ble, because arising from the [Page 432] infirmitie of nature. How­soever, I can very well re­member (and what other Followers can bee to such a Remembrancer but penitent teares and incessant feares) that I held it in those dayes an incomparable grace to be styled one of the Wits. Where, if at any time invi­ted to a publique feast, or some other meeting of the Muses, wee hated nothing more than losing time; reserving ever some Select houres of that Solemnity, to make proofe of our con­ceits in a present provision of Epigrams, Anagrams, with other expressive (and many times offensive) fan­cies.

But Wits so ill employed, [Page 433] were like weapons put into mad mens hands. They hurt much, benefitted little: di­stating more than they plea­sed; for they liked onely such mens palats, as were Male-contents, and Criti­cally affected. By this time I had got an eye in the world; and a finger in the street. There goes an Author! One of the Wits! Which could not chuse, but make mee looke bigge, as if I had beene ca­sten in a new mold. O how in privacie, when nothing but the close Evening, and darke walls accompany mee, doth the remembrance of these lightest vanities per­plex mee! How gladly would I shun the memory of them! How willingly for­goe [Page 434] that sweetnesse which many conceive to bee in them! But let mee goe on; for I am yet but entring that high bet-path of my younger follies. Having thus, for divers yeeres toge­ther, continued at Inns of Court; where that opinion the world had of my Works, gained mee more friends; than the opinion men had of my Law, got mee fees. For such as affected Scenes more than Suits were my Clients. I thought with my selfe to take a turne or two in Pauls; and to peruse a whol [...] Gazetta in one walke. This I conceived might im­prove mee; first, by indea­ring and ingratiating my selfe with that Societie: [Page 435] which, I must confesse, were richly endowed with two excellent parts, Invention, and Memorie. Secondly, by screwing some Subject from their Relations, which might set my pen a work upon oc­casion.

But I found not there what I expected, which made mee leave that walke, and turne Peripateticke; a ci­vill Exchange-man; where in short time I got acquain­tance of the best; being such gentle Merchants, as their wealth could not so darken their worth, but they would willingly enter lists in a combat of wit. These, I grant, tooke great felicitie in my company: nor did it repent mee of bestowing [Page 436] some houres with these: whose discourse of forraine Newes strengthened by such able Intelligence, did infinite­ly please. And these, with­out so much as the least losse to themselves (I may safely vow) would not stick upon occasion to accommodate me: which winged my desires for the Court; the better to accomplish mee. Where I found gracefull acceptance with choycest acquaintance. But Cynthia could not bee still in her full orbe. I begun to withdraw my thoughts from the pursuit of these, and recount with my selfe what I had seene: store of wealth in the one, and a be­seeming state in the other. Yet for all this I found my [Page 437] selfe but a Planet in both. Fixt I could not bee, till some constant Calling admit­ted mee. I resolved then, seeing I found nothing either in Court or Citie, but cares: Cares in the one, of getting to hoord and gather; cares in the other, of getting to spend and scat­ter: in the one, more rinde than pith; in the other, more pith than rinde. This partaking more of Comple­ment, that of Substance: yet a naturall straine of Insinua­tion in both: but their Ob­jects different. The one making a cringe for fashion; the other for gaine. While the former makes his vowes too familiar with his pro­tests, to be beleeved; the o­ther [Page 438] sees too deepe a glosse of his commodities, with shop­oaths to be lik't. The one, with a low dook of your Servants Servant, proclaimes him the Servant of time, and no ones servant. This I wholly dislik't, for I found the title of Servant other­wise applyed by that Divine Vessell of Election, that de­vout Sanctuarie of Sanctifi­cation, that pure Mirrour of Supreme Contemplation. His title was, as it was like­wise of others of his Fellow-Labourers: Paul a servant of Iesus Christ; Iames a servant of Iesus Christ; Iude a ser­vant of Iesus Christ. With this Complement These began their Epistles: A Sain [...]-like Preamble! an heavenly [Page 439] Cour [...]hip! Such as all Christians are to imitate.

The other, with his sub­till weights and measures (reserving ever my best thoughts for the best) made mee suspect him, that hee sold his commodities by retaile, and his conscience by whole sale. Upon review of these, (I say) I resolv'd to leave those Cinnamon Trees of the Court with their sweet rindes; and those Palmato's of the Citie with their broad shades: and to turne honest Countrey-man: where my Parents providence had set­led a competent estate upon mee. Here I lookt to finde nothing but plaine dealing; where I found in very deed, nothing lesse. For upon a [Page 440] more serious perusall of that life, with the benefits that rose from it, and condi­tions of those who were borne and bred in it; I found a cunning Colt wrapt up in a russet coat. Men as apt to catch, as if they had beene hatcht in the Harpies nest. Such as would not stick to hazard their part and portion in the Taberna­cle for a Symoniacall Con­tract. And still I went on to dive into the qualitie of those Ilanders. Where I found some pining through want, others repining at their neighbours wealth, few or none cōtent w^th their estate: yet none so poore in estate, as hee would not, though hee spared it from his belly, [Page 441] have a fee in store to main­taine a suit. Long I had not remained in this fashion, till it pleased the Prince to put mee in Commission for ad­ministration of Iustice: a ver­tue, and a choyce one too, yet such an one, as by the abuse of man, not of time, may be compared to the Ce­ledony stone, which retaineth her vertue no longer than it is rubbed with gold. For my carriage therein, I ap­peale to such as knew mee: many imperfections and fai­lings (Heaven knowes) ac­companyed mee, which by an humble acknowledge­ment of mine owne wants, & an earnest desire of supply by Gods grace, became so rectified in mee; as what be­fore [Page 442] seemed crooked, was by that golden Rule of his divine Will in mee streightned.

Thus have I passed my dayes; traced many wayes; where the longer I lived, the more I sinned; which cau­sed mee to wash my couch with teares, and to remem­ber the follies of my Youth, Manhood, and Age, with an­guish of heart. O how much it now grieves mee, to have grieved so much at the sight or thought of gray haires; and to have grieved so little at the thought or sight of my sinnes! May it then bee my care to call for grace, lest I bring my gray haires with lasting sorrow to thei [...] grave. O may the remainder of my dayes teach mee to [Page 443] number my dayes, that I may goe to him, and live with him, who is the length of dayes!

His Death.
MEMORIALL X.

WElcome, thou un­welcommest to man, because I have in part pu [...] off man, through his grace by whom I am; and who for mee became man, to free mee from the curse of the Law, due to man. O Death, how terrible hadst thou been unto mee, if hee who dyed for mee, had not conquer'd thee! And yet many things present themselves before [Page 444] mee, which highly perplex mee. Sinnes, nothing but sinnes muster themselves be­fore mee, to affright mee. Yea, sinnes which I never thought of till now, appeare foule and ugly unto mee. But I know my Redeemer li­veth, and that with these eyes I shall see him. Though the Furies of Sinne and Satan en­ter their pleas against mee; though my secret Sinnes tell mee that I am the child of disobedience, that I have justly incurred Gods heavie wrath and displeasure; and that my strange sinnes have deservedly made me a Stran­ger and Alien to the house of my Father. Though my whole course hath beene a continued curse, by trans­gressing [Page 445] his Law, who satis­fied the Law for me: Though I have made every Creature mine Enemie, by offending that heavenly Maker, who made them and me: Though I finde no good thing in mee; not one Witnesse within mee, to speake for mee; Not one day, nay not one houre of my life without Sinne to accuse mee; Not one poore worke of Charitie so pure, and without Vain-glory, as to plead for mee; Not one Friend, amongst all those many, who profest themselves mine, to appeare for mee. Yet have I One, who h'as vanquished Death, Sinne, and Satan. One, who will Cure my Wounds, because I have opened them; and Cover my Sinnes, because I have [Page 446] discovered them. One, who will bring mee home to my Fathers house, bring forth his best roabe to adorne me, put a ring on mine hand to inrich me, and bring me to his Great marriage Feast, which shall for ever refresh me. One, who wil turne his Curse into a Bles­sing; and with the sight of his Dearest Selfe satisfie my longing. One, who as hee made his Angels, Ministers for mee on Earth; will make them my Companions in Hea­ven. One, who though hee could see no good thing in me, will of his owne free good­nesse supply mee. One, who will send his holy Spirit to witnesse for mee: and will shew to his Father those Prints of his Love, those Skars [Page 447] of his Wounds to speake for mee. One, who will evince the testimony of Sinne, so as though it accuse mee, it shall never impeach me. One, who is all charity, and with the eyes of mercy will looke on my misery; and in this houre of my necessity will plead for mee. One, who when all my friends shall leave mee, will cleave neare mee: and at the houre of my death will so defend mee, that mine Enemie may have no power over mee.

Yet for all this; old Ac­quaintance cannot be so easi­ly parted; I feele a trembling in my flesh: it is death to her to be divided from her Soule. Therefore shee desires still to bee a Cottage, (though a [Page 448] crazie one) for the enter­tainment of such a Guest. And though every pusse, every blast threaten her fall; yet hopes shee with a little repairing to hold out still. Foolish flesh! if thou lov'st that Guest, as thou profes­sest, why doest thou lodge her under such rotten tar­rases? For whilest thou keep'st her in that crazie Cot­tage, thou hold'st her from a princely Palace. 'Las! shee came to thee, not to bee a Dweller, but a Sojourner. Give her leave then to goe home againe: for in a strange Land is shee, while shee lodges with thee. O; but I heare thee answer: ‘This Stran­ger (if you please to style him so) is as loth to part [Page 449] with mee, as I with her.’ Is it so, poore Soule, hast thou wallowed so long in mire; or encamped so long in these shades or shrouds of clay; as thou beginnest to bee en­amoured of them, and never remove from them? Is it so, that thou hast beene such a long stranger in thy owne Countrey, as thou hast quite forgot it, or car [...]st not much if thou never see it? H'as the life of a Souldier so taken thee; or the straying libertie of a Pilgrim so seaz'd upon thee, as thou preferrest a wandring life, before a set­led being in thy Countrey? Woe is mee for thee! But, 'pray thee tell mee, what is it that hath so woo'd and wonne thee from thy first [Page 450] Love? O I heare thee; or that false Idumite which holds thee, cry out: ‘O; must I leave my Friends, Honours, Pleasures and Possessions?’ Yes; thou must leave and lose all: Thy Friends and Honours may, per­chance, accompany thee to [...]hy Grave; but there they will leave thee: and for thy Pleasures and Possessions, they will not doe thee that gra [...]e, to attend thee to thy grave, [...]r before thou come there, [...]hey have vow'd to leave thee. These are strong stayes [...]o depend on! faire props to rely on! firme foundations to build on! I see then, (Lan­guishing Soule) what it is that holds thee. Thou ei­ther griev'st to lose what [Page 451] thou here lovest: or feares to feele there what thou for thy sinne deservest. O my Soule, by this may any one gather, that thou hast beene a constant worldling! For if thou hadst possessed the things of this life without loving of them; thou wouldst easily lose them without grieving for them: Seeing, whatsoever without love we enjoy, without griefe we forgoe. But stay a little! stay a very little! and with pati [...]nce heare mee. Be not, O bee not so fast glued to Earth, that thy thoughts be­come loosened from Heaven! I know well, it is thy Flesh, which thus disquiets thee. It is shee who suggesteth these things to thee. Wrastle [Page 452] then with her, and give her the foile; it is better that shee faile, than thou fall. Tell her; oh tell her: For this will charme her. Those worldly Friends, on whom shee so much relyes; can nei­ther deliver themselves nor her from Death. They may professe much; and vow to intercede for her to any Prince or Potentate brea­thing, while shee is living flesh: but dying, they will leave her for a prey to her Brothers and Sisters. And all their friendly teares will be then dried up. Sorrow takes quickly a Surfet in the Fu­nerall of her dearest Friend. His poore corps is with earth no sooner covered, than their Time-love becomes [Page 453] discovered. These be the shadowes, wherewith our Flesh-flyes are deluded. They may remember us sometimes while wee live on earth, but they soone forget us when wee are laid in earth. Aske her then; will shee be stayd by these friends, of which Time makes shadowes, or in­jury profest foes? Secondly, if Friends have not in them such firme dependence, as to pro­mise any assurance: hopes shee from Honours to receive any sure footing or conti­nuance? No; tell her, these are of all temporary blessings most various and dangerous. Various, in respect of the Object from whence shee re­ceives them, being man: and consequently, apt enough [Page 454] upon the least occasion, to change his minde. And dan­gerous, in respect of those corrivals and privie under­miners, whose highest taske it is to bring these Favou­rites into disgrace. O how happie had many beene, had they never knowne what Honour meant! For as it in­cumber'd them living, so it distracted them dying: ex­posing them to many dan­gers both living and dying. Aske her then; will shee bee staid by these Honours, which can neither privilege her from death, nor comfort her at the houre of death, nor se­cure her after death? Third­ly, if shee bee thus forsaken of all her Honours, what can she expect from Pleasures? La [...]! [Page 455] These long since left her, when Age seaz'd on her: and thrice happy shee, had shee left them, before they left her. If there bee pleasure in cramps and aches: her weake decrepit limbes retaine stil [...] a memory of them. These she h'as constantly to attend her; nor vow they to leave her, till the cold Earth re­ceive her. For now those Ivory-beds, Carpets and Laces, are but as so many racks and tortures to her, when shee remembers them. All these have left her in paine: and if shee taste pleasure in that, may she long enjoy it. But thou [...]h those more active pleasures have wholly left her: shee sees her Buildings, and to leave them, and to whom [Page 456] shee knowes not, it deepely grieves her. Those pleasant walkes, which with the helpes both of Art and Na­ture shee so carefully contri­ved; those shadie delightfull Arbours, wherein shee so re­tiredly and contentedly re­posed; Those silent Groves, christall Springs, dainty Re­fectories, wherein shee so delightfully sported, bathed & banquetted: must she lose all these; and for a cover of mouldred earth, wherein all her beautie lyes buried? It must bee so; there is no re­medie; the cold earth must receive her perished beautie. Nor should the losse of all these grieve her; seeing these were so confined to time, as they could promise no con­stancie [Page 457] to her. Yea; they deserved rather to bee loa­thed than loved; seeing the Sight of them too often estranged her thoughts from Him that made them. Aske her then, where bee all those who sometimes en­joyed these pleasures to the full! Where those Objects, wherein they delighted? Looke! Reade! Their Me­mories are as Letters written in dust. Their glorious Buil­dings have lost the Names of their founders. They sleepe in their earth: but that Ac­count sleepeth not, which they mnst render for their vanities on earth.

Fourthly, seeing her fore­past pleasures have wholly left her; but the bitter remem­brance [Page 458] of the abuse of them stayes with her: the sweet­nesse of the one being spent: but the bitternesse of the o­ther left: what content may shee finde in her Possessions; the Worldlings Minions? 'Las, nothing! these are tane from her, and bestowed on another. Shee is now to goes to her long home; and another is to possesse her dwellings. Though here, shee held passing of time a meere pastime; and a large pos­session the Sole Solace of a Worldling; now she findes enough of Earth in a very smal portion of it. No matter now whether her Granars be enlarged; her Revenues in­creased; her Treasures slo­red. These be none of hers; [Page 459] The very Wind h'as as great a share in them as shee h'as. Nor did they deserve so much loving, when they were in their very height of enjoying. Being such as were got with Care, kept with Feare, and lost with Griefe: proper things to dote on! The fulnesse of them could not stay, one poore Fit of an Ague: nor get a reprive at Deaths hand for a minute. Besides, that long unwil­ling Adieu of the unhappie possessour at his heavie depar­ture: O Death, how bitter is the remembrance of thee to a man that liveth at rest in his possessions!

Seeing then, no outward thing should so much de­light man, as to withdraw [Page 460] his thoughts from the Ma­ker of man: Or so trouble him in his passage or transla­tion from Earth, as to divert his affections from heaven in his remove from Earth. Seeing, all things are not onely vanity, but affliction: where such as are highliest possest of them, are most en­snared and deluded by them: Seeing, the beauty, riches, pleasures, and contentments of earth, are no sooner ap­pearing than vanishing: no sooner found than lost. Why doest thou tremble, O my flesh! why are thou so trou­bled, O my Soule, and why art thou so disquieted within mee! put thy trust in the Lord, and hee will deliver thee. Yea, but I heare thee, [Page 461] in a silent secrecy, framing this reply! These worldly respects are not the things that make Death appeare so terrible unto mee. Noe; I can freely bid farewell to the world; there is nothing in it, that makes mee ena­mour'd of it. I see nought at all in it, but sinne, or occasions of sinne: Nei­ther did I ever possesse ought, which did not af­flict mee more in the for­going, than it delighted mee in the enjoying. Tell me then (poore fearfull soule) what is it that so much troubles thee in this thy passage? What is it that makes thee so shake and shudder in this thy dissolu­tion? O my sinnes! my [Page 462] sinnes! it is the remem­brance of my sinnes, which makes mee unwilling to de­part from this place where I committed them: or to fix mine eyes on that place, which is so pure as it can­not abide them. I cannot thinke of that place where­in I have not sinned; nor of that houre wherein I have not highly transgressed. And can one minutes repen­tance discharge such long arrerages? O my perplexed soule, remember to thy comfort that divine Cordi­all: At what time soever a Sin­ner repenteth, &c. As I live, I would not the death of a sin­ner, &c. My mercie I will not take from him: There is mer­cie with the Lord, and there­fore [Page 463] is hee feared. Hee shall call upon mee, and I will de­deliver him in the time of his necessitie. Draw yet nearer, and thinke of the saying of that sweet Father:S. Bern. ‘O humble teare, thine is the Kingdome, thine is the Power: thou art not affraid to enter in and appeare before the pre­sence of the Judge: thou, though thou enter a­lone, shalt never returne alone: whatsoever thou askest, thou shalt have; thou overcommest the invincible, and bindest the Omnipotent.’ This Angelicall Wine will bring thee to the societie of the Angels. Doubt not; stag­ger not. Raise and rouse [Page 464] up thy selfe with the wings of faith. Whence comes it, that the Soule dyeth? be­cause Faith is not in it. Whence that the bodie dy­eth? Because a Soule is not in it. Therefore the Soule of thy Soule is Faith. No evill then can befall thee, so thy faith doe not faile thee. Where watry eyes make faith their Anchor, they promise a calme Sea, and a safe arri­vall to the Christian passen­ger. And though late re­pentance be seldome true, yet true repentance never comes too late. That devout and well-prepared Father, when hee was readie to die; with much sweet assurance, and Christian confidence, spake thus to Stillico and [Page 465] others about his bed;S. Ambrose. ‘I have not lived so among you, that I am ashamed to live longer to please God: and yet againe, I am not affraid to dye, be­cause wee have a good LORD.’ Though thou canst not in thine owne ap­provement so truly say this; crowne thy passage with a devout wish; Desire to bee dissolved, and to bee with Christ; Present him with a pious devotion to thy in­ward'st thoughts: Imagining him even now bowing his precious head to kisse thee; spreading his gracious armes to imbrace thee: his An­gels comming forth to meet thee; the whole Hoast of Heaven to conduct thee to [Page 466] the Palace of Eternitie, af­ter this thy approaching dissolution from this vale of misery. Let nothing divide thee from that love which is in thee to Christ Iesus. One Houre in his Courts is better than a thousand in the Courts of Princes. Hum­bly commend thy selfe to his protection who made thee; to his affection, who redeemed thee; to his di­rection, who sanctifi'd thee. Feare it not, timorous soule, but thy Fathers power will defend thee; his Sonnes Wisedome will enrich thee; the Holy Spirits goodnesse will comfort thee: even in these pangs of death which assaile thee.

Oh how sweet is the re­membrance [Page 467] of these things to mee! There is nothing now that may divide mee from Him, to whom I am spiritually espoused. There is no Friend so deare to mee, as Hee who gave his life for mee. No Honour so highly valued of mee, as his, who became a reproach for mee, that by his owne dishonour hee might honour mee. No pleasure so de­lightfull as his presence, whose sight shall ever cheere mee. No possession like his fruition, who is my portion in the Land of the Living; to whom to bee joyned shall ever joy mee. Every minute then seemes grievous, eve­ry moment tedious, till I bee dissolved; that I may see [Page 468] him after whom I have so longed; to whom to bee united, I have so thirsted; in whose sweet presence to remaine, in whose Courts to abide, I have so desi­red. These pangs I feele, are to mee cheerefull; these Messengers of my approa­ching dissolution, to mee gratefull; these humane wrastlings, which I now en­dure, to mee delightfull. I know well, I am such metall as I must bee tried before I bee fined. O! as I draw by little and little nearer my end; so may I in true love draw nearer to thee. To thee, my Re­deemer, in whom my trust is placed; my confidence plan­ted; my hopes crowned; [Page 469] my Pilgrim-dayes happily closed; my heritage, after these dayes of my Pilgri­mage possessed. I feele now my longing Soule fleeting from this darke Cell, this noysome shell of corrup­tion; every gaspe now pro­miseth a dissolution. My breath is corrupt: my dayes are cut off, and the Grave is readie for mee. I enter'd this world with a Shrique, and I leave it with a Sigh. Nor doe I sigh for that I love it, or am unwilling to leave it; but for that I have beene too long divided by living in it, from Him, in whom my desires are here fixed, there filled: The houre is come, and it is welcome; the houre [Page 470] of my translation to glory. Come LORD JESUS, come quickely. Amen.