AMong all the troubles to which we are ſubjected as we are men, and which we have drawn upon our ſelves as we are ſinners, none is ſo dreadful as death: the thoughts of being removed from this preſent place of abode to another ſtate, have deep impreſſions upon our Spirits, and they alſo very melancholy and diſtracting; and eſpecially the more afflicting, when we find the events of ſuch conſiderations to affect our ſelves, (i. e.) if we loſe a Friend, we are grieved: But if we apprehend Death calling for us in particular, it chills our Blood, and caſts a Damp upon our Courage. Mirth and Jollity are neglected as inſignificant and unſatisfactory; and infinitely various ſurmiſes do mutually diſturb our incompoſed Senſes; ſo much that under the fears of approaching Death, we loſe the very advantages of Life.

And this natural averſion that all men have to dying, or a final diſſolution, is mightily augmented by collateral cauſes, v. gr.

1. Some are extreamly fond of this World. They are here (as they think) well at eaſe, they have all that they can need, and that makes them ſuppoſe, and believe, 'tis all that they ought to wiſh for; and therefore, here they reſolve to fix their Tabernacles; and in this Region of reputed Felicity, they would willingly continue a long time, (at leaſt) and for ever if 'twere poſſible.

Hence therefore ſome are unwilling to dye, becauſe they muſt by that be deprived of all thoſe delightful Objects, and ſtript of all thoſe conveniences, in which they at preſent find ſo much Comfort.

2. Some are afraid to dye (or unwilling at leaſt) and they are ſuch, as have not the advantages of the former, but yet have ſome tolerable conveniences, and enough to counterbalance all their Troubles or Miſeries in the worſt ſenſe, and many pleaſant intervals of Comfort; And they never conſidered enough of a future ſtate, to think whether there might be any thing better in another world, and therefore they would not leave this for an Ʋncertainty.

If they have the miſhap to meet with troubles, yet they are not laſting, and a new Enjoyment wears off the memory of a late bad accident—But now, if they ſhould be diſplaced from ſuch a ſtate, whoſe circumſtances they have ſo long reviewed, examined and approved, and immediately be lodged in another Region, with which they are utterly unacquainted, this would be ſuch an aſtoniſhing thought, as the moſt rigid Stoick with all his Philoſophy, could not eaſily mitigate, and the Venom of it would work ſo powerfully, that in a little time it would draw on that very evil which their fear was intend to prevent.

3. Others are afraid to dye, from the remembrance of an ill ſpent Life; they are men who have lived in an open Rebellion againſt that ſacred Majeſty which governs the Univerſe, but eſpecially inhabiteth Eternity; but yet have not lived ſo long, or ſinned ſo much, as to wear out all Senſe of a Deity, or eraſe the natural Apprehenſions of good and evil. But their memory is tenacious enough to mind them of what they did; and their Conſcience tells them what 'twas, when done; and when upon a review of their paſt actions, they can only draw a ſad Catalogue of Error and Folly, or wilful Tranſgreſſion, and repeated diſobedience, and yet at the ſame time their own hearts tell them, that thoſe faults muſt be accounted for to a Soveraign Judge, who is infinitely juſt, and will neither be byaſſed or perſwaded to paſs any ſentence upon any Perſon, otherwiſe than the Merits of his Actions ſhall require: When by looking backward, he ſhall ſee little or nothing that he dares own, and yet looking forward, he can have no proſpect of anything that he would willingly ſuffer; in a word, where there is no remaining hope of any thing, but a fearful looking for of Judgment, 'tis in this caſe no wonder if men be unwilling to dye; for to ſuch men death is only an inlet to damnation; which is the moſt amazing conſideration that can be, next to the being in actual torment.

But yet I ſay, if there were none of theſe accidental reaſons to bring men out of love with death, yet even that principle of ſelf-preſervation, which is connatural with our being, would engage us to uſe all poſſible lawful means for our continuance here in this ſtate and condition.

'Tis true, an active faith, a firm hope, and an ardent love, will ſuperſede all natural or accidental objections: and the zeal of a ſound Religion will prompt a man to hazard his life unto the Death, as Act. 21. 13. ſays St. Paul, What mean ye to weep, and to break my heart, I am ready not only to be bound, but to Dye for the Name of the Lord Jeſus?—And the vaſt number of Martyrs, that have ſo willingly ſubmitted to the Tyranny of Perſecutors, doth fully convince us, that many in the World did not think life the moſt valuable bleſſing.

But yet ordinarily ſpeaking, this willingneſs to lay down our lives, tho for Religions ſake, is a ſort of Violence to our natural temper and conſtitution: and 'tis what no one can, and would do, if he were not firſt perfectly transformed, and altered from what he was; Nay, in ſhort, this natural averſion that is lodged in the very original of our frame is abundantly manifeſt in that petition of our Saviour himſelf, Jo. 12. 27. Father ſave me from this hour, but for this cauſe came I unto this hour: (i. e.) the terrible apprehenſions of his approaching paſſion, did ſo diſmay him, that tho he came into the World on purpoſe to ſuffer, yet he deſired, that if poſſible it might be paſſed by: Mat. 26. 39. Let this cup paſs from me, or at leaſt that the time might be deferred ▪—for we are ſo partial to our ſelves, and ſo fond of our Eaſe, that an Evil which we fear, is as pungent as that which we really feel. And we have been told of ſome who have made their lives extreamly miſerable, only by antedating their miſery, and ſuſpecting that in time they might be ſo.

I don't mean that this reſpected our Saviour, for he ſoreknew all conſequences, and he knew that he ſhould riſe again, and be glorified at the right hand of God: But this reſpects men, who can ſee no further than to what is before them.

But yet what Notions ſoever men may have of things, what projects ſoever may divert them, what thoughts to diſtract them, or what care ſoever they uſe for their Preſervation, certain it is, that no man can continue long in this World: Our fears in this life don't ſet the other life at a greater diſtance; nor do our enjoyments here give us a ſurer Inheritance in this Life; but whatever our worldly circumſtances are, our time here is but, and can but be ſhort, for as for man his days are as graſs, &c. p. 1.

To collect and repeat to you the various Epithets and Emblems, by which the Writers of all ages have repreſented the Shortneſs and Uncertainty of our Life, is not ſo very material: The Aegyptians had their Hieroglyphicks, and the other Heathen their Maxims, and the Scriptures have their Alluſions and Parables, their Repreſentations and Similitudes; but I will go no further than the Text, which is very ſutable to the ſad occaſion of our preſent meeting.

Mans Life is as graſs.] The Seaſon of the year tells us, how ſoon it is withered, that which is green and proſperous in the morning, and but lately refreſhed by a gentle Dew from the kind Heavens, is e're noon, cut down, and by Night utterly altered from what it was; the Verdure of it is gone, and no Art can recover it again. So the Flowers of the field are beauteous and gay, more gorgeous than Solomon in all his Glory, Mat. 6. 29. and yet as ſoon as they are pluckt from their Stalk, they begin to fade, and in a very little time degenerate into a loathſom Rottenneſs.—Nay, which is ſeemingly a leſs cauſe for any conſiderable alteration, the very Temperature of the Heavens, if but a little unſeaſonable, robs both Graſs and Flowers of their Beauty; a rough wind, or a great rain makes both to fade; and after Once ſuch an accident happens, it is for ever irremediable, and the Place thereof ſhall know it no more] (i. e.) they never grow in the ſame place, nor recover their loſt Excellency.

And ſuch are the days of man; as for man his days are as Graſs.] Man is weak and helpleſs, born to trouble as the Sparks fly upward, Job. 5. 7 (i. e.) by a natural and unavoidable Tendency. And yet not ſo continually vexed by croſs misfortunes, but there is enough in life to deſerve Commendation, and to cauſe a moderate content: As we rejoyce to ſee a flouriſhing Meadow, though within few days, we reſolve to ſtrip it of its pleaſant Verdure; or as we admire a pretty Flower, though within a ſhort time that we have handled it, we are ſenſible that its Fragrancy will decay inſenſibly.—So in our Life there are many things which are pleaſant and delectable, but their continuance is uncertain; ten thouſand accidents may ſpoil a great Fortune; or a ſudden and unthought of miſchance may nip our blooming hopes, and in ſuch a time as all things promiſe fair, there may happen (unawares) a ſudden change, which ſhall alter the Scene, as much as cutting a Meadow, or plucking a Flower, cauſes an alteration in thoſe refreſhing Objects.

But then the parallel is not altogether alike in all points; but with reſpect to man there is ſomething of a tranſcendency. Mans days and all worldly advantages, are here but of a ſhort date, and uncertain continuance, ſo far therefore like graſs or a flower. But further unlike to either, for they as ſoon as they are corrupted, return again to their firſt nothing, but man can never ſuffer an Annihilation; The place of a man ſhall know him no more, (i. e.) a man can never live a ſecond time in this world; but there is an everlaſting duration reſerved for all men in the next: And how fading ſoever temporal advantages may appear, certain it is, the ſubſequent ſtate can admit of no alteration: the latter is a matter of faith, the former is the ſubject of frequent experience. Mans life, or his days are as graſs.

It was long ſince ſaid Pſal. 90. 10. the age of man is threeſcore years and ten, which comparatively to what men lived before the ſtood, may very properly be ſaid to be but as an hand breadth, Pſal. 39. 5. But yet even this ſhort period is but rarely attained, where one is permitted to conflict with the troubles and inconveniences of old age, t • n are cut off, or taken away in the midſt of their days, Pſal. 102. 24. Or yet, if all could be ſuppoſed to come to the utmoſt deſirable period of an old age, with the concurrent advantages of eaſe, peace and honour, yet even ſtill their days would be like the graſs; For we know by Experience, that the Graſs which we reſerve for Winter, is mightily defaced by a bluſtering North-Eaſt wind, and what remains uneaten by Cattle, is trodden under foot, and by the return of the following Spring is all rotten. And ſo—the oldeſt age will come to a bound which it ſhall not paſs over; for one day muſt be the laſt to every body. And our reſidence here below, being only among ſuch objects as are various and mutable, we do by a ſympathy partake of their Nature, ſo far, as to be neceſſarily ſubject to the ſame Inconveniences.

'Tis true there are different diſtances of time when theſe things happen, but that is but as 'tis in all mutable things; ſome Flowers are very forward, but thoſe as ſoon decay, others are later, e're they ſhow their Splendor, and they accordingly continue longer.

But then 'tis not only a natural decay or fading, which will one time or other infallibly attend them, which ſhows their mutability, but there is ſometimes a force, and violence committed, and a rough ſtorm, or but an unwary touch, may cauſe them to ſink into nothing, ſooner than elſe they would: in ſuch a caſe nature is injured, and precipitated into an irreverſible ruine. And in this caſe too, mans days are as graſs: 'Tis terrible to think, (and I am ſorry 'tis the preſent caſe) how many have been cruſht into their Graves by ſurprizing accidents.

How (ſeemingly) inconſiderable evils have produced diſmal, and yet laſting effects; how many children have been left Orphans, and how many women Widows, and how many parents have been deprived of hopeful and beloved Children, even by ſuch ſad caſu • lties, as it lay not in mans power to foreſee or prevent. Our own perſonal knowledge too fully aſſures us of this truth, and yet reports bring multiplied inſtances of ſuch woful miſhaps.

Thoſe that have been well in the morning, and as promiſing as a Flower, have like a Flower (e're night) been utterly diſrobed of all their Beauty; when all our hopes and expectations, all our future comforts, and preſent ſatisfaction, have in one inſtant been ſupplanted, and all poſſibility of looking for the ſame hath for ever been taken from us. The days of man are but as graſs, he flouriſheth like a Flower of the Field. I am ſorry I muſt, (and I crave leave and the allowance of thoſe who are moſt intimately concerned in our preſent loſs, that I may; and I pray that it may not add new ſupplies to that ſorrow which is already as great as ſo ſad an occaſion can deſerve, only let it not be more exceſſive than Nature can ſupport, or Religion juſtify) I am ſorry that I muſt ſay, that this preſent Text hath now a very full and parallel, tho a very fatal completion.

This Gentleman was like a flower of the field (i. e.) he wanted nothing that might render him amiable, he had multiplied advantages both natural and accidental; v. gr. a good apprehenſion with a judgment equal to his years: and was very promiſing of being very ſerviceable in his Country, for which he was well capacitated by a plentiful Eſtate. And to procure him a publick reſpect in the world, he had the Honor and Happineſs to be deſcended from two very Worthy Families, of a truly gentile extraction, as well as an antient deſcent; (tho I would not inſiſt much upon that, leſt I ſhould be thought to flatter thoſe that are alive, and yet I ought not wholly to omit it.)

The Honor of Parents doth eaſily procure a general reputation to their Poſterity: and where there is an Eſtate proportionable to maintain that Character, ſuch men are both lov'd and fear'd; which are two advantages, whereby a good rich Gentleman may do abundance of good: and ſuch a man's example would effectually commend Religion, to the general approbation and choice of his Neighbours, who in ſpight of Precepts live by Example.

He had alſo the conſtant and uninterrupted aſſurances of Love and Kindneſs from a tender Mother, and affectionate Siſters; as well as the general reſpects of all thoſe who had the Happineſs to be at all acquainted with him. In a word, he had that double happineſs the Poet wiſhed for, (i. e.) a ſound mind in a ſound body. Thus was he like a Flower, and indeed of as fair a figure as moſt of theſe adjacent parts.

But alas! What did all theſe ſignify? He is cut down like a flower, and his days were but as the graſs: One ſtorm, one little accident hath rendred all theſe advantages uſeleſs.

His Estate is leſt behind him; his Anceſtors are no more to be accounted to him, now that he is laid with them in the Dust: and of all his Friends (tho they all lament his Death, yet) none can relieve him.

All our moſt pious reſpects to our deareſt Friends are ſuperfluous, as ſoon as the Soul is parted from the body; and tho Nature, and Civility, and Religion allow and command, that we perform the charitable Office of a Burial; Yet Reaſon, and Senſe, and Prudence, and Religion tell us, that the paſſionate demonſtrations of kindneſs, which the tenderneſs of the Female Sex doth eaſily afford, as well as the nearneſs of the Relation doth ſo readily prompt, are neither juſtifiable nor commendable.

I will lament my Friend, as I am a man, but yet not ſo, as thereby to give the world any temptation to ſuſpect that I am no Chriſtian. I may be ſorry for the loſs of my Friend; but I muſt take care that I be not ſorry as if I had no Hope. Nature forces me to grieve: but Religion ſhall give it its juſt Limits, that my grief may not be inordinate.

And ſince the all-wiſe God hath been pleaſed at this ſtrange rate, to cut off this young Gentleman, juſt as we do the tender graſs, ſince he who was a flower for his many deſireable qualifications, is alſo like a flower withered; I adviſe, that all that hear of this dreadful accident, do think upon it for their improvement in Holineſs.

Many men are ſo fond, as, at any extraordinary accident to attempt to meaſure Providence; and caſt about them, to ſee, where ſhould be the cauſe of the great thing that God hath done. The Diſciples themſelves were not free of this fault. Jo. 9. 2. Maſter, who did ſin, this man or his parents, that he was born blind? But this is a fallible, and withal a preſumptious way to judge of the methods of Gods Providence: Certain we are (or we are Atheiſts) that God hath a determinate end, in all things that happen in this lower world; but it is not proper for us, that we ſhould be able to ſquare his Providence with the various chances of the world: It rather obliges us to adore his goodneſs, in preſerving us, and his mercy in ſparing us; and that we who are as much graſs (i. e.) as ſrail, and equally mortal as this young Gentleman, ſhould yet be continued alive, when he is denied the further Priviledge.

And therefore to make this Text, and this particular inſtance of Providence ſerviceable to us, I ſhall infer theſe four things.

Theſe are all naturally contained in the premiſes, and theſe may be beneficial to the rectifying our miſtakes, concerning the odds betwixt this and the other world; for 'tis too often ſeen, that thoſe who have moſt of this world, are too regardleſs of the next, and don't dream of a change that may enſue.

Firſt, Inf. 1. We ſhould not too much value our ſelves upon what we have. All the valuable bleſſings or conveniences of this life, are ſubject to change and caſualties: nothing here below is permanent and laſting. All animae beings are uſeleſs and contemptible, as ſoon as their breath is gone; and the moſt ſolid inanimate bodies, do by degrees decay, and grow unfaſhionable: Marble is defaced by weather, and Silver and Gold will ruſt: but if this were not ſo yet we ſhould not value them much, becauſe they can't long be ſerviceable to us, for we can't live long to enjoy them.

In Infancy we are careleſs of thoſe things, that we eſteem moſt precious in common eſtimate (in older age.) A new born Babe hath no comfort from a large inheritance, nor doth the care and labour of buſie anceſtors, who heap'd up wealth like the ſand, to leave their poſterity a luxuriant fortune, at all affect them: But all that they need is a careful Nurſe and good attendance; and if they are ſo happy as to enjoy theſe, they never project any thing future for twelve or fourteen years next to come: And after that age, it may be, the flattery and information of ſome indigent or ſpungy dependents, ſhall ſwell a wealthy young heir with mountainous thoughts of incredible Riches, which are his undoubted right, and of which he can't be deprived; and from thence (it may be) he is hurried on to all thoſe extravagancies, which are laid as temptations to pleaſure by vaſſal confidents; till by eaſie degrees he becomes ungovernable, and moſtly licentious too: and many times thoſe malevolent inſinuations have cauſed Minors to turn Bankrupt, and even forfeit their Eſtates, before they had lived long enough to enjoy them. And hence it hath happened, that thoſe who had enough to live creditably with good management, and to convey to their Children a ſufficient fortune, have themſelves caſtrated their own Fortunes, and lived long enough to lament the direful inconveniences of their own too haſty Folly. So that in this ſenſe (at leaſt) our advantages, or expectations are but like graſs or a flower; for thoſe who ſpend madly in hopes of what they ſhall enjoy plentifully, dye Beggars commonly.

But ſay this be not the caſe. (For tho in this degenerate age, there are too many inſtances to prove the ruine of fair Fortunes, even by this means, yet 'tis not always ſo, nor indeed is it moſtly ſo; yet) ſuppoſe then a Family as well fix'd, as they can be wiſhed for by their Friends, or themſelves deſire: ſay their circumſtances are ſuch, as puts them beyond the frowns of Fortune, and the worſt of miſchances ſhall not bring them to Neceſſity: Suppoſe them abounding with all conveniences and delights too, that they live in Wealth and Reputation, honoured and loved, in Health and Peace; that they have a numerous Progeny, which ſtand daily round their Tables like Olive plants, ſo that all that know them ſhall be forced to ſay; Lo! Here is one that is truly bleſſed, Yet alas how really inconſiderable are theſe things. N. B. If a Parent have but one fit of ſickneſs, theſe things are ſcarce regarded. A Dropſy, or the Gout, or a violent Headach makes all theſe ſeeming ornaments appear invaluable; and the reliſh which thoſe things afforded in health, becomes in a ſingle minute inſipid and contemptible.

But if this do not happen, or if a man don't perceive their vanity by ſome inhabiliments of body, or ſome ſudden diſcompoſure of thoughts, and anxieties of mind during life; yet in death all theſe fair enjoyments, are in the twinkling of an Eye rendred uſeleſs;—And yet he that hath at this preſent all that he can wiſh for, ſhall in a little time as ſurely be deprived of it, as he now enjoys it.

But ſuppoſe this don't firſt happen neither, (i. e.) ſuppoſe a Parent live a long time to enjoy what he hath (I mean, free from any perſonal troubles) yet if an accident (amidſt his Proſperity) happen to any of thoſe things which he calls his own, even that ſowers the reſt of his Enjoyments: But a ſickneſs in a Family, fills the reſt that are yet well with doubts and fears; but Death drives men to thoſe degrees of Impatience, which they would blame in others, and yet think they may juſtify in themſelves; or at leaſt lawfully permit. And yet after all Diſquietudes and Torments, the fate that hath befallen them is irreverſible; and the remembrance of what they had, gives them a ſad conviction that 'twas not lasting; and the conſideration that they ſhall no more enjoy it, might inſtruct them too, that 'twas at beſt but like a flower: That, that ſhould not be too much prized, of which they might ſo many ways be deprived; That no wiſe man ſhould glory in that, of which ſo many caſualties might rob him; nor think himſelf much the better for that which he is ſure he can't keep long.

Secondly, Inf. 2. We ſhould not too much addict our ſelves to this world. I allow and affirm 'tis every mans duty to manage that Fortune, with which God hath bleſt him, and to convey it as entire to his poſterity, as he received it from his predeceſſors. And he that doth not make ſutable proviſions for his Family, according to his Quality, is worſe than a Beaſt in any ſenſe, and in a religious one, worſe than an Infidel, 1 Tim. 5. 8. Which is ſomewhat to be conſidered by thoſe, who frolick away, not only their incomes, but their very patrimony; who revel to perpetual exceſs; who drown their own ſorrows in Wine abroad, when at the ſame time, their Wives and Families are forc'd to feed upon their own tears at home; ſuch there are, ſhame on them, who can ſo eaſily and incredibly cancel all the Obligations of Nature, and prove ſo unaccountably cruel to their own bowels, and yet put it off with a Jeſt; who ſquander away their eſtates, by Rioting and Drunkenneſs, by Folly and Madneſs; nay, who mortage their Reputation, and damn their Souls, only to pleaſe one ſingle ſenſe. And yet tell ſome of thoſe Fellows, how imprudent they act, or how unreaſonable it is, that one man ſhould ſo impoveriſh a Family to future generations; eſpecially that 'tis wonderfully unnatural to ſtarve his children at home, which could ſubſiſt with comfort, upon his ſuperfluous expences, all theſe perſwaſions are ſlighted, and in a contemptible ſort of way, ſome have anſwered, Let that God who feedeth the Ravens, provide for the Rooks. This is ſtupid wickedneſs, inferior to that of brute beaſts, and 'tis a ſordid temper, this therefore be ſure is not contained in the caution; 'Tis not Care that we condemn, but 'tis too much. N. B. The neceſſary parts of our duty, are thro a miſtake stretched too far, and by that means perverted from their original intent.

Becauſe every man muſt improve his Talent, which he hath received, therefore ſome think, that they muſt not allow any relaxation; But they labour hard, and fare hard; tire their bodies, and rack brains, how to encreaſe their wealth, and yet as their riches increaſe, ſo do their deſires too: And by how much the more they have, by ſo much the more are they covetous and greedy.

But this is to be too much addicted to the world, and this is that which by conſequence we condemn. N.B.

The reaſon why we ſhould take ſome care in the world, even for the things of the world, is, becauſe we do not know but we may need them; and God never allowed any body to be only an idle Spectator: and no body pretends to challenge to himſelf an immunity from all employments.

But if a man have nought to do, he is exceedingly more uneaſy than when ſurrounded with buſineſs; and it hath often puzzled many mens brains, how to diſpoſe of ſome of thoſe that they called idle hours: But now the reaſon, why we ſhould not ſpend too much time upon the things of this world, is, becauſe we can't tell how long we ſhall enjoy them.

I really believe, no man would much perplex himſelf about fine houſes, or new purchaſes, that was aſſured he ſhould dye within few months that he had obtained them; and yet this may be any mans fate; for the days of every man are but as graſs: and therefore methinks 'tis not only needleſs, but madneſs, to be very ſollicitous in getting that, of which we have no aſſurance that we ſhall keep it, but innumerable arguments to convince us, that we muſt (or at leaſt may) be deprived thereof in a ſmall time.

Now this caution of not being too much addicted to this ☜ world, is ſuppoſed to contain a twofold prohibition.

Firſt, With reſpect to thoſe things, that we are apt generally to account neceſſary: ſuch as are a ſubſiſtence for our ſelves, and a competency for poſterity. Even thoſe, I ſay, we muſt be careful not to extend beyond their proper limits; but we ought to moderate our deſires, by the rules of Chriſtian contentedneſs: as knowing that every thing beyond conveniency, is abſolutely ſuperfluous. And thoſe who have the greateſt eſtates, can only have but food and raiment; that the reſt is conſumed by Servants, or reſerved for Strangers, and it yields no other fruit than trouble or ſorrow; trouble to keep it, and ſorrow if it be loſt. But eſpecially he that is a great admirer of the World, is always unwilling to leave it; and yet ſo fading is his nature, that he can't long enjoy it; and therefore—from the uncertainty of our retaining the things of the world, we ought in prudence to regulate our longing after them; and becauſe we can't long enjoy them, we ſhould not much perplex ourſelves in their purſuit, or weary ourſelves in their acquiſition.

Secondly, But there is a worſe caſe yet, many devote themſelves to the world, upon no pretence of neceſſity, or convenience, but they rather become its ſlaves, and ſpend their whole time utterly in the pleaſures which it affords, and in purſuance of its airy vanities; But this the premiſes do highly condemn: For if the uncertainty of our Life be a good argument, to prevent too much care in lawful things, much more is it an argument to reſtrain us from thoſe practices, which are not only unlawful, but of pernicious conſequence. He that is born a man, and endowed with a rational Soul, ſhould conſider, that he hath ſomething elſe to do, than to live meerly to the fleſh: that 'tis a very irrational method of ſpending his time, to conſume the whole of it upon his worſer part; The remembrance of what little ſatisfaction, he hath had in his former frolicks, might induce a man to think, that there is ſomewhat more ſutable to his excellent nature.

The beſt of all worldly enjoyments, if they exceed the Limit of Prudence and Sobriety, may be pleaſing for a time ('tis true) as long as men are bereaved of their ſences, through the height of Exceſs; (which is juſt as diſtracted perſons reckon Fetters and Chains, an Ornament) But alas! as ſoon as they return to themſelves, they find nothing but ſhame or ſickneſs; an aching Head, or a weak Stomach, or rotten Bones.

The tranſporting Pleaſures of a Frolick all vaniſh in a night; and all that remains is a fear, that others will remember the indecencies of which they were lately guilty and have themſelves forgotten.

Therefore I ſay, conſidering thoſe things are ſo truly vanity; that they are all tranſitory, which periſh in the uſing; that they are but imaginary Apparitions, and at beſt no further grateful than they are fancied to be ſo, it will follow, that they ſhould not be too eagerly courted, nor ſhould we ſpend too much time in their purchaſe.

Thirdly, Inf. 3. Since our time here is ſo ſhort, and withal ſo uncertain, we ought to make timely preparation for our removal hence. Mans days are but as Graſs, conſume in a moment; our days are ſwifter than a Poſt; our time is but like a writing upon a ſand; and of this every one muſt needs be ſenſible, that ever looks abroad in the world; and yet there are not many that lay this to heart as they ought, nor do they conſider their own frailty, when they ſee others drop into their Graves.—It may be on a Funeral day, or on the news of ſuch a terrible miſchance and fatal accident as this was; men may have ſome natural ſuggeſtion that mortality is certain, and death amazing; But the next merriment wears off the ſenſe of it, and men follow their accuſtomed ſports or buſineſs with as much eagerneſs, as if they ſhould never dye; and lay Scenes for ſtrange projects, as if they were immortal: and till they find themſelves arreſted by the Meſſenger of Death [a grievous ſickneſs] they fancy it will always ſtand at a vast diſtance from them. But this ſhould not be ſo;—we know we muſt remove off from this ſtage, and for ought we know the time is nearer than we are aware.

This Gentleman was as likely to live, as any perſon here now preſent; and yet within one hour that I ſaw him lively and well, I heard the ſad news of that accident which drew on death irreſiſtably, againſt all our good wiſhes, to the ruine of our hopes, and the grief of all Spectators. Nay the change was ſo ſudden, and withal ſo violent, that Art and Medicines were uſeleſs, and the ready offices of all his Friends, were utterly unſerviceable; but in a word, he was ſtupid in a moment, and continued ſo till he died, which was ſhortly afterward. And methinks this ſingle inſtance is enough to add weight to the Argument, and enforce the inference, (viz.) that all men ſhould provide in ſeaſon for a removal hence.

For who can tell, but the ſame or a like misfortune may befal either of us; (tho yet, I ſay, conſidering the circumſtances, they appear ſo amazing, that I heartily do, and every one may, pray, from ſuch a death good Lord deliver us.) But yet allowing only that a ſudden death is but barely poſſible; yet who in his wits would run the hazzard of a following Eternity, meerly for the Love of a fading, periſhing, tranſitory, uncertain world.

We muſt ſubſiſt, after our ſouls and bodies are ſeparated; and therefore we ought ſo to ſpend our time in the body, that it may turn to ſome account for our ſouls, after our bodies are turned to duſt; which I expreſs, by making a timely preparation for our removal.

There is no one thing in which men are ſo contentedly cheated, as in the notions of living and dying; nay worſe, thoſe who will not allow others to impoſe upon them, tho but to the damage of a penny, will yet impoſe upon themſelves, in this caſe, which is a matter of infinite importance: and many times hug their error ſo long, that it proves irrecoverably damnable, (i. e.) men drop into Hell, while they careſs themſelves with the fond hopes of a following Heaven.

And this is a madneſs which poſſeſſes the generality of all mankind; they put death and the other world at a great diſtance, and then think themſelves ſafe in all their extravagancies; there they revel their ſenſes; indulge to Luxury; make proviſion for the Fleſh; court the world; and make but a ſport of damnation.

And yet all this while, are confident, that they ſhall have time enough to reverſe all this; and meet Death long enough e're it call for them:—And that after a life of ſin and vanity, they ſhall dye very devout Saints, and partake of their Bleſſedneſs.

Unaccountable ſtupidity! What is this that ſo bewitcheth men! What Circaean Cup ſhould have power ſufficient ſo to intoxicate them! And ſo utterly to diveſt them of their Senſe and Reaſon! Nay what Amulet is that, which can ſo powerfully reſiſt the Force and Charms of the principles of Religion! and make them ſo regardleſs of another world! to which yet they may be tranſported, for ought they know, in the ſpace of one hour.

There are many who have ſerved this World with the ſame zeal; coveted wealth with as much greedineſs; indulged themſelves with as much liberty; carried themſelves upon their appendant ornaments with as much ſtate; in a world, that ſinned as boldly, and yet with the comfort of the ſame ſecurity, in former days, that men do now:—And yet many of us can tell how ſhort they fell in their expectations; that they died in the habit of ſin, where there have been no appearances of any colour of repentance; and ſome in the very act, where Charity it ſelf can hardly ſuppoſe it; at leaſt, I'm ſure Reaſon will not allow it.

In a word, we have known ſome that have died in ſuch a condition, as conſidering the circumſtances, and with reference to the next world, I'm ſure no man preſent would be content to dye in the ſame condition for ten thouſand worlds.

Well: Allow this; but conſider, if we uſe ſuch practices, why may not we fear the ſome end: In ſuch a caſe fear is beneficial; and foreſight is greatly advantageous; and therefore we ſhould prepare in ſeaſon for our removal hence.

'Tis a fatal deluſion to reſerve the practice of piety to the latter part of our lives: 'Tis an affront to God, that we ſhould ſin away our Youth, our Strength, and our Vigour, and at laſt bring him the lame offering of a decrepit old age, which is rendred uſeleſs to our ſelves, thrô the frequent debaucheries of Youth, which no arguments could prevent: Briefly; Nothing can be ſaid to juſtify thoſe, who believe a future ſtate, and yet all the time which they live here, make no proviſion for it. (For I reckon future reſolutions to be nothing but a trick to ſilence their conſciences in this world; though even thoſe will render all reſolving penitents inexcuſable in the next, at the day of Judgment.)

Now when I ſay, we muſt make a timely preparation ☜ for our removal hence, I mean two things.

1. Parents muſt take care to educate their Children well; (expreſſed in the order of celebrating the Marriage in our Church, by) bringing them up in the fear, and nurture of the Lord; And Solomon, Prov. 22. 6. calls it, training up a Child in the way that he ſhould go. There is nothing ſo much conduces to the making a timely preparation for our removal hence, as doth a vertuous education.

When Children in their tender age, are accuſtomed to have an horror of any thing that is evil, that grows (with their age) into a perfect antipathy. And when they are only timely warned that lying, ſwearing, &c. will carry them to Hell, when they dye, this will imprint ſuch terrible apprehenſions of damnation upon their memories, as no Device of the Devil or his inſtruments, can ever deface;—men ſo ſeaſoned with arguments from terror, are proof againſt charms; and they will be afraid to do wickedly, becauſe they know the end will be Damnation.

†Oh!† Methink this ſhould no more be a ſcandal; than it would be an affront to wiſh all men Saints. How happy would it be, if all Parents would but take this care!

But alas! Where is this almoſt to be met with? thoſe who are extremely nice of every thing that relates to the bodily health, and welfare temporal of their Children, inſomuch that (as we ſay) a Fly muſt not pitch on them, and think them extreamly injured by any body, that offers but to contradict them, in every little impertinent humour, —Yet thoſe very perſons can be content to hear thoſe very beloved Children, ſwear as ſoon almoſt as they can ſpeak, and lye accuſtomedly, and miſ-call and curſe their Play-mates, and yet at all this to be unconcerned: And in all this the Child muſt be humoured (forſooth) or his Spirits will be broken, though God be diſhonoured, and his Laws trampled under foot.

But alas! Whatever thoſe fond Parents may think, I know that this comes up full to Ely's ſin, 1 Sam. 2. 29. who honoured his Sons above God. For ſo thoſe, out of a damnable Folly ruine their Children, only out of a fear, that they ſhould ruine them, by reſtraining them.

I will never perſwade Parents to be hard hearted, or unnatural; But I ſay, if a Child do any thing that is evil, correct him how young ſoever; but do it with that Prudence, that the violence do not exceed his ſtrength; Leſt you prove a Murtherer inſtead of a Reformer. 'Tis ſaid by a wiſe man, Prov. 23, 13, 14. With-hold not correction from the Child: N. B. for if thou beateſt him with a rod, he ſhall not dye: Thou ſhalt beat him with a rod, and ſhalt deliver his Soul from Hell. N.B. For thoſe little puniſhments in tender years, and before cuſtom hath ſuperinduced an habit, will create an abſolute averſneſs to all iniquity.

And therefore, I ſay, that thoſe who have the care of Children committed to them, if they do not reſtrain them from ſin as often as they find them guilty, either by Correction or Reproof, do what in them lies, to betray ☜ them over to Hell: And though the Indiſcretion and invincible Ignorance of thoſe Minors may in ſome meaſure excuſe them from the formality of the guilt, provided they dye in their tender age (i. e.) before they are come to weigh things according to their nature, or make a difference between good and evil; yet ſure, this Indulgence of Parents, Maſters or Guardians, can never be excuſed, nor will God let it paſs unpuniſhed.

But then, if Children be allowed to ſwear, &c. when young, and afterward grow up to age, and ſet abroad in the world, and meet with ſuch variety of temptations, 'tis then no wonder to hear that ſuch are incredibly debaucht. For when thoſe who had no reſtraints in their Infancy, nor no Curb in their Youth, meet with old Practitioners in Wickedneſs, they don't come like Tinder to a Spark of Fire, but rather they themſelves are all on a Flame, and want nothing but the mode of the times to be compleatly wicked; which in the more modern Language is (tho damnable yet) gentile.

Now, whatever you may think of this, I aſſure you 'tis a fatal truth: And I have heard of, and know thoſe, whoſe Parents have allowed them (when Children) to practice constantly thoſe ſeveral wickedneſſes, which men of Age ought to be aſhamed of.—that when a Boy of ten or twelve years old, hath been able to ſwear briskly; lye fluently, or talk to his elders ſaucily, with a little mixture of Railery; and to the Female ſex a ſtory of bawdy obſcenity: In a word, if he have been able to play the Buffoon wittily, and act a Merry-Andrew with an air, he hath been as much admired, and commended, as if he underſtood all the depths of Learning, whether natural or Theological.

And then pray, what hopes that ſuch an one ſhould ever reſtrain himſelf when abroad? Parents (naturally) have ſome awful influence upon their Children; and it muſt be a Rape and violence to their natures, to eraſe the apprehenſions of it on either ſide. But ſin is of a levelling nature: and the greateſt contrarieties agree, and the moſt diſtant contradictions are reconciled, to make a Conſpiracy in wickedneſs.

But I ſay, thoſe who thus ſet up in the world (as I may ſay) Licentiates in Iniquity, they generally grow from ſin to ſin, and never dream of a Judgment to come. —And no wonder, for they never heard of ſuch a thing. For we can't ſuppoſe that ever ſuch Gallants ſhould go to a Church, or look in a Bible, or read a good Book, or hear a Sermon: Alas! No: That's none of their Employment, they have no preſident for ſo doing, their Fathers never did ſo before them, and therefore they ſcorn to begin.

Miſerable condition that theſe men are in! they never had any acquaintance with Religion, and which is the worſt, of their caſe, their Conſciences were ſtupified, before they knew the voice of their admonitions!

And thus muſt they periſh eternally, except a Miracle of mercy interpoſe for their reſcue; and that too, ſuch a miracle as muſt come unaskt, for ſuch men (as I am mentioning) know no other uſe of the name of God, than to profane it by an horrid Oath, or interſert it with ſome impertinent or cauſeleſs curſe.

And how far, ſuch as theſe are from Destruction, let all men conſider: and yet through whoſe occaſion let the world judge.

But now in ſhort, poſitively: Parents ſhould provide for their Children, in this reſpect, ſenſonably, by giving them good inſtructions, enlivened by their own Examples. N.B.

They muſt reprove them for little faults, and correct them for great ones; they muſt keep them to the ſtrict obſervance of the rules of good Morality; and the exactions which Parents, &c. ſhould demand from their Children in point of practice, muſt be ſevere (i. e.) admit of no diminutions: There muſt be no Commutation in the exerciſe of tender vertue; for that will by degrees tempt Children to believe that 'tis only indifferent.

But now when Parents keep a ſevere hand, and a watchful Eye over their Children, and will allow no abatements of their duty: but encourage and reward them for doing well; and render Vertue amiable from the conſideration of that credit that attends it; and Laſtly, when they recommend Religion to their choice from the conſideration.

Secondly, And then there is no doubt, that thoſe who have begun thus well, will ever fall back; thoſe who are ſo forward in their way to Heaven, can't fail of arriving thither with eaſe and comfort, as well as be received with joy and glory. He that hath been accuſtomed to do well, will not admit of any temptation to biaſs him: but his whole converſation will be heavenly: his diſcourſe alway grave, as if ſeaſoned with Salt, miniſtring Grace to the Hearers: his thoughts alway limited; his deſires bounded; and his actions will be ſo innocent, and withal his temper ſo obliging, and his ſociety ſo acceptable, and withal ſo beneficial, that all that know him muſt commend him.

And which is a comfort to himſelf, he is alway in readineſs for the coming of the Bridegroom.

Preparation for death includes more than a Death-bed-repentance; or a faint Lord have mercy upon me. He properly, and he only prepares for death aright, who lives every day with that care and watchfulneſs, as if he were to dye ere the night (i. e.) not to fall wilfully into any notorious ſin, nor to allow little ones: but every night confeſſes the Errors and Miſcarriages of the day paſt, and endeavours what he can to avoid the ſame in after times: In a word: 'Tis an Early beginning to live well, that can be truly accounted a timely preparation for our removal hence. N. B.

Fourthly, Inf. 4. We ſhould moderate our ſorrow for the loſs of any Friend, how near or hopeful ſoever. The days of man are but as graſs, ſays the text. All Fleſh is graſs, ſaith the Prophet, I ſay 40. 6. and all the glory of it but like a Flower: well then—Are you diſcontented that your graſs withereth? Or are you perplexed that a flower fadeth? No.

This doth not diſturb you, for you know 'tis natural▪ Be it ſo; mans days are no more; but his removal hence is neceſſary; and will you, will you, it lies not in your power to prevent that ſate, for that's a war in which there's no diſcharge. And therefore to be angry that our Friends dye, is to blame the wiſdom of God, who made them mortal: or to be diſcontented that we can keep them no longer, is to pretend to tell God, what ſeaſon is proper for him to do what we would have done, which is to put our ſelves above him: In a word, we have no more ſolid reaſon to be grieved that our Friends dye (I mean grief to exceſs) than that a Stone deſcends; or Water is moiſt; or the Sun giveth light, or Fire burns; for all are alike natural.

But it may be ſaid, if ever grief be allowed, when our Friends dye, as Nature prompts it, and there are not many who can conquer their paſſion ſo as to ſuppreſs it; then in extraordinary caſes, it will follow that there ſhould be extraordinary grief allowed? (will it not? may be a Queſtion)

I anſwer, no: or I ask to what purpoſe? will your Friend be the more eaſy after he is dead, if you tear your Hair, or rent your Cloths, or break your Reſt, or forbear your Meat, and pine your ſelf into a Conſumption? If you you can think ſo; ſpare no Labour, but rather take incentives to heighten a diſconſolate paſſion to any degree, this ſide your own expiration.—But if you can't ſuppoſe that the deceaſed Perſon, for whom you ſo lament, and whom you ſo paſſionately bewail, is at all benefited thereby, pray then to what purpoſe is it? Or why make ye this ado.—I am ſure, it can be no comfort or eaſe to indulge thoſe phlegmatick paſſions: reaſon doth not require them, nor religion tolerate them:—Or if no other argument can convince men, how unſerviceable exceſſive grief is. in ſuch a caſe, I ſay, that others ſhall ſhortly lament us, as we now do our late dear Friend.

In a word, therefore in all the circumſtances of Life, let our grief be moderate;Summ. & Appl. in all our concerns of Eternity, let us be very vigilant: Let it be our care to have Oyl alway in our Lamps. We are but as Flowers; we know not how ſoon we may be gathered hence; let us be careful that we be not found unprovided.

If God ſhould think fit to call us off ſuddenly, are we now provided?—I know many don't care to put this queſtion much to themſelves: but they would rather enquire after others that died in this manner: but that is not any mans duty, for any one to mind more than himſelf, for himſelf. But this I know, and forwarn, and teſtify, (viz.) that where God continues the means of grace, and makes all men a free offer of glory, if they will but labour after it; If men will prefer a Luſt to Eternal Life: Value Vanity beyond a Crown of Glory, prize a Bubble before an Inheritance which fadeth not away; if they ſlight the Threatnings of God; and contemn his Judgments, and deſpiſe his Mercies, he will ſpeedily execute Vengeance on thoſe that ſo affront him. And thô their time in general be but ſhort, yet God will cut off ſuch in the midst of their days, haſten their Deſtruction, and ſend them quick into Hell; and then they ſhall too late perceive their Folly, which now they would not ſuſpect.

On the other hand. If from the conſideration of the uncertainty of our continuance here, we provide our ſelves for a removal; and make it our buſineſs to look out that City, which hath Foundations, whoſe builder and maker is God, Heb. 11. 10. If from the thoughts of a ſpeedy death, weare perſwaded to mortify ſin in our members preſently; if from the remembrance of leaving this world, we are induced to fix our thoughts upon Heaven; If the thoughts of leaving behind us all our Friends, engage us to make Friends with the Mammon of Ʋnrighteouſneſs; If the leaving our wealth, prevails upon us to lay up a treaſure In Heaven.

Then have we lived long enough, how little while ſoever we have lived; then death ſhall never be ſudden, how unexpected ſoever it may ſeize us. Laſtly, then our bounty, our honour and ſplendor, which are ſo many Flowers on us in Life, of which death deprives us, ſhall be all abundantly recompenced by a Crown of Righteouſneſs; which ſhall be a laſting ornament to our head, to a never ending Eternity.