ESSAY I. De Sanctitate Matutinâ.

AN Elegant Subject re­ceives no illustration from the faint colours laid on by a rude hand. The Pencil of the greatest Statist fits best [Page 2]to beautifie the noblest actions. What nobler action, than to chalk out the intricate Labyrinth to an eternity of bliss? A skilful Pilot he must needs be that steers through this Hellespont.

2. The sure Lanthorn of the glorious Gospel must be eminently placed, while we pass this streight, when so many with winged Sails make to the heavenly Ophir, yet for want of the true Card of God's illuminating spirit to direct them, or fainting by the way, when they cross the line of persecution, few make a rich return of their labour.

None then so fit to keep steddy the erring World, as old Salomon, who had not only God (the Infallible Word) to dictate to him, while he [Page 3]drop'd this Precept, but the Firm of Heaven set to a Transcript of a full Series of Experience, from the rising to the setting of his Age. He could in the liveliest colours de­lineate unto us the exorbitances of our Juvenile fervours, who had the Malady thereof as a Quotidian A­gue.

3. This Magus could also best state the unwieldiness of frosted Age to ring an hourly Devotion, when the Wheels and Master-springs are rusty and out of order, and its im­becillity to raze those strong Forti­fications Satan (that subtle Engi­neer) cunningly builds to annoy us; when he, who had wisdom to an astonishing excellency, could not repulse the temptations spun with the fingers of the softer Sex, but must, in scorn of the ever living God, go worship Ashtoreth, the Goddess of the Sydonians.

[Page 4] Remember now thy Creatour.

That's the burden of his Song: all the rest of the strings are wound up to tune with this. Good God so dispose our hearts and hands to beat the time, that our souls, with so sweet an harmony, so Angelical a Diapason, may be ravish'd into an heavenly extasie.

Before the glimmering spark of our devotion be absolutely extin­guish'd, he puts in this seasonable Memento, as a bellows to blow it into a new flame.

4. This is the Antidote that cleanseth and purifieth our blood, poyson'd with the invenomd ar­row of our sins. Those Seraphick thoughts are the pearled dews, Ambrosial showrs, that water, and refresh us, when we are almost dried up, and withered: Those Arabian winds (rich in their Per­fumes) [Page 5]that fan and cool our spi­rits scorch'd with the raging heat of lust and concupiscence. When the gastly visage, haggish Ghost of sin affrights us, one drop distill'd from this Alembick, and carefully thrown on the faces of our consci­ences, presently inspirits those parts, which before only wanted the decent ceremony of a Winding Sheet. When we are sung asleep with Satan's Lullabys, when, in the midnight of a besotted Lethargy, he carries his dark Lanthorn to fire this train, here's the Curfue that rings the Alarm, that with full buc­kets of repentant tears we may timely extinguish the spreading flames, before they lay hold on the rotten buildings of our souls.

5. They who went to the Cave of Trophonius, to consult the Ora­cle, drank of two Rivers; Lethe at the entring in, Mnemosyne at the going forth; that, by the ope­ration [Page 6]of the one, they might purge their thoughts of such delectations, as they had given too free a Wel­come to; by the other, enshrine in their breasts what that adored Di­ety deign'd them the knowledg of. So when we make our Applicati­ons to Heaven, consult that sacred Oracle, we must not only memori­ze him, as the great Architect of the Universe, as God from all E­ternity, but we must clear our re­membrance of all Dregs and Lees, the issue of our foul Impieties, of such poysonous Cates as discolour the easie tinctur'd complexion of our souls, with this cooling Julip put out the fire of our Concupis­cence, with this Opiate deaden and stupifie our enraged affections.

Good and evil, like fire and wa­ter, have repugnant qualities, will not body together, but like an Ex­halation, break.

6. How then can we contem­plate [Page 7]our Creatour as a pure Es­sence, but we must abominate our own beastiality? How can we re­member him as a just Judge, with­out trembling at the Bar of his Ju­stice, and putting in the merits of our Saviour, as our surest Plea? Or take in Ideas of an all-seeing eye, without ransacking the inmost Cells, and Meanders of our hearts, for the casting out those Devils, those Impieties that have lain so long leiger? They must be thus exorcis'd before we can fashion an entertainment, garnish the best lodgings in our souls, give a re­spectful audience to those tutelary Angels, to that Legatus à latere, Christ Jesus himself.

In the Reign of Tiberius it was judged an heinous crime in Paulus the Praetor, for taking a Chamber-pot in his hand, when he wore a Ring that had the Engravement of Caesar.

[Page 8]7. It must needs then be an of­fence of a deeper, die (after we have once lodged God in our hearts) instead of Myrrh and Cassia (incense of a pure life) to make him nauseate those dwellings with the ordure and filth of corrupt af­fections.

This is a Catholicon, a Medicine for all diseases. When we are en­tangled with macerating cares, the thoughts of a true and powerful friend clears the mind of its distur­bances, builds a confidence in us equal to a victory: so though mis­fortunes, like violent Surges, rowl in upon us; yet if the Heavens be serene, that we have but a gleam of our Maker, such beams, such corus­cations issuing from his grace, dis­pel all Mists and Fogs that incur­tain our souls, brighten every affli­ction, make every wound and scar received in his warfare, marks of honour and beauty.

[Page 9]8. The Ancient Hebrews would memorize on their Gates and Porches, the favours the Lord had been pleased, at any time, to con­fer upon them. Such gentle dews of acknowledgment, exhaled from us by God, are showred down in whole Cataracts of Love and Boun­ty. If such gratitude in Heaven, that a cup of cold water given in the name of Christ, ushers in a sure Re­ward; shall we, who have not acti­vity to inspirit the meanest action without the Master-spring of God's Omnipotent Power, satiate our selves with the affluence his good­ness affords us, and not give a retri­bution of thanks? Shall he, that formed all, find only a repugnan­cy in him, whose reason (as an Heavenly Intelligence) should sit on the Sphere of his active abili­ties, to give them perfect motion.

[Page 10] Remember now thy Creatour.

9. This the Persian Decree that cannot be reverst, the first word of command given unto the Young Souldiers, fighting under the Ban­ner of the Church Militant. This ranks our thoughts and affections, that they run not into disorder. These few words make [...] us, more than Archimedes, to take the tran­scendent height of Heaven; and though but a ladder of few rounds, yet when we ascend the uppermost step, our heads are reared above the Clouds, where we look upon the great Magnifico's of the World, as so many Anticks below us, dan­cing Galliards to no better Musick than what pleasure and vanity, as so many deceitful Syrens, sing us.

10. Is it not time therefore to sound a retreat to such, that run a full career in pursute of their own [Page 11]vanities, with this excellent piece of Scripture?

Remember now thy Creatour.

Let such learn to put by insinua­ting pleasures with that brave re­solved answer, Hippolitus gave to the inchantments of an alluring Sy­ren,

Shall we throw the remembrance of him behind us, who made him­self the Pattern to mould us into so enamouring a shape; whose hands (as Saint Basil hath it) were to man as a Womb, enobled that shape with a soul (though clogg'd with the rags of flesh,) journies from East to West, rides about the Circumference, descends to the Centre, ascends to the top of the [Page 12]Universe, posts from Earth to Hea­ven in a moment.

11. And when (like foolish School-boys) we had robbed God's Orchard of that Fruit impaled with his own mandate, and so heaped coals of fire upon our own heads; though by this we had sunk our selves to the lowest abyss of misery, yet would he not (like friends that take their farewel with our felicity) leave us forlorn; but rather than we should eternally perish, and so cancel the benefit of our Creation, tore a limb of the Diety, made a divorce between God and God, betwixt himself and his beloved Son, that he might be a Sacrifice for so grand an offending. When he had thus repaired the old defacements caused by Adam, new minted, coyned us full of Glories, steering us from a troubled Sea in­to safe harbour, this Watch-man that slumbereth not, still kept Sen­tinel [Page 13]knowing, the storm being once allay'd, we would put our weather-beaten Vessels to Sea again.

12. This not all (though suffici­ent to engage our remembrance) but every Creature (the riches of Nature) made by the hands of the Almighty, kneaded of the same E­lements, and only beholden to man for their names, are so subservient, as to pay themselves to him, as constant Tribute. I need not take care to put more weight into God's ballance, when the least mite of his favour will at any time turn the Scale of our best: deservings, but joyn wonder with the Psalmist, What is man that thou art so mind­ful of him, or the Son of man that thou so regardest him?

But let us not, Fata fugiendo in fata ruere; while we hale off the Sands, fall foul on the Rocks; to prevent a forgetfulness of our Ma­ker take such boldness with this [Page 14] Superspiritualis spiritus (stiled so by Damascen) as one friend will with another. The Effigies of him, whose endeeredness to us hath me­rited some extraordinary value, is commonly drawn in the liveliest colours, set in the most obvious and eminent place, that we may enjoy a living shew for a dead sub­stance.

13. But this great and terrible Jehovah, glorious in his incompre­hensible Attributes, whose sacred name I adore afar off, not daring to approach but with a prostrate coun­tenance, much more with a rude Pencil venture at his Dimensions, who is great without quantity, and good without quality; can he be circumscribed with lines, whose Centre is every where, and Circum­ference no where? Who spans the Poles with his fingers, and hold­eth the whole World in his fist? Shall fading colours set forth the [Page 15]glory of his countenance, who is cloathed with light as with a garment? With what eyes shall we behold this Father of light, when the face of his servant Moses carried too radiant a lustre for the Israelites to behold without a darkning Veil?

14. Nay, by what measures shall we estimate the Creatour, when the Creature it self, the Sun (a Crea­ture without so much as Vegetati­on) appears too resplendent for the eye of man to fix on without drop­ping a tear, as a repentance for his boldness? But then let hot sullen­ness have that predominancy over us, because we cannot see beyond our Horizon, have a full draught of his ineffable Majesty, refuse to know so much as we can. With­out unravelling the ruffled skein of the Trinity, we may comprehend that, which may be the material cause of our salvation. To remem­ber him as our Creatour, and (in [Page 16]the acceptance of his Son's merits) our Redeemer, as one that by day goeth before us in a pillar of a cloud, and by night in a pillar of fire, is a Sphere large enough for man's nar­row soul to Intelligence.

To make this a Compleat Chain, we must add another link to it; In the days of our Youth.

Remember thy Creatour, in the days of thy Youth.

15. That easily rated to us we commonly strike into a bargain, not omitting the Golden Opportu­nity of purchasing. Can more tri­umphant glory, with such exceed­ing cheapness, be set before us than this Clum Empyraeum, this Hea­ven of Heavens, purchased only with the Remembring our Creatour, in the days of our Youth?

¶ Certainly it was a Noble shew to have seen Rome (Queen of [Page 17]the World) when her victorious Captains made their entry in their Triumphal Garments, crown'd with the Spoyls of Kingdoms, at­tended by Princes, and Potentates, Ensigns, and Trophies of their glo­rious Conquests.

16. Alas, it was but a Poppet-shew, at best but fantastick Page­antry, to those super-excellent things of the New Jerusalem, which cannot be decypher'd but in part, when our bodies are glorified; be­cause we cannot see to the end of eternity, shall never be able to cha­racterize the plenitude of its glo­ries, and rich beatitudes; because we shall never have experience of their termination, have that durati­on, that a thousand years are but as one day, of such an everlastingness, as that of the Father, Son, and Ho­ly Ghost. Merciful Lord give us that holy longing of Saint Augu­stine; To see that head which was [Page 18]crown'd, and those hands which were pierced, to purchase for us such inestimable glories, that have an incomprehensibility above all ad­migration.

It is observed that Saint Paul, af­ter that he had been rapt up into the third Heaven, and there seen the wonders thereof, and heard things unutterable, put a very low valua­tion upon any thing that was ter­rene ever after.

C. 1. Since our encouragement is so great, our Trophies for victo­ry over sin and Satan shall be so full of Pulchritude, so glorious, let us not post off our repentance to a dy­ing hour, that must of necessity be an early Sacrifice, but strike while the Iron is hot, in the fervour of our Age. Though he paid some that came at the last hour, equally with those who endured the whole heat of the day, and shewed them eminent mercy, when the crack'd [Page 19]glass of old age hath been dropping the last sand; yet know we not whether the fatal Sisters will draw out the thread of our life to a great­er length, or that God (whose leni­ty may be abused) will accept our dull spectacle services, when the evil days are upon us, we refusing him the choicest oblations of our youth.

This portion of Scripture (par­don the compareson) is the Brazen Head that tells us, Time is. If we have not the Wedding Garment on when the Bride-groom calls, we shall not have admittance into the Bridal-Chamber.

2. Such as repudiate Christ in the lustre of Youth, in their Meri­dian of Glory, shall receive a reta­liation, when that Vermilion proves adulterate.

Christ's Spouse the Church is fair, and hath no spot in her, not bleer ey'd, not palsie-headed, but [Page 20] comely, as the Tents of Kedar, and as the Curtains of Solomon. So that, if we will match with Christ, we must bid the Banns while our Roses are fragrant; when we are young, and pulpy, that the Seal of God's Grace may stamp the more lively. Signature on us.

When God commanded Abra­ham to sacrifice his Son Isaac, (a streight command for the Father to bath his hands in his Son's gore; nay, Isaac his only Son, Isaac whom he loved) yet Abraham's ready per­formance shall be the eccho to God's call, and will as attentively receive his orders for the slaughtering his Son, as his Wives Sarah's for the impregnating her Hand-maid Ha­gar, as 'tis manifest in his early ri­sing to offer up this piece of himself, as sweet incense unto the Lord.

3. Out of this old Cistern we may draw forth living waters, and we Children learn of this Father of [Page 21]many Nations; betimes, in the dawn­ing of our age, rise from our dow­ny beds of sin, to glorifie our Ma­ker, and those endeared pleasures (as so many Dalilahs,) that enervate and disable us from combating with Satan (that great Leviathan) we must depose, unthrone, before they subject us to a vassilage.

The pestilence soonest deflowers the fairest complexion, and an in­considerable disease in our Non-age makes the Lillies look pale and wan, blasts the Roses in our cheeks, and every where gives a sallow tincture to what before appeared pure and sanguine. Now this of the mind holds the same parallel with that of the body. The first stage of our life is the most dangerous for giving and receiving temptations: Every vice, like a Curtesan, trickt up in the loveliest attire, makes its ad­dress, and rather than this tinsel stuff shall want vent, that subtle Im­postor, [Page 22]the Devil, brings in all the Presidents and Pleadings of Nature.

4. Speaks to us in our own Dia­lect, robed with the fairest blandish­ments and graces of speech; leaves out no artifice or flourish to make his Oratory perswasive; tells us, to meditate on Heaven is but a fit of Melancholly, the dumpish thoughts of Mortality carry a harsh and jarring sound to our sprightly spirits, such wrinkled severity, such gray headed Meditations, knit no Rosaries, make no fit Chaplets to crown our budding Age; our Un­derstanding is not yet setled, our Judgment but in the blossom; so great a work ought to have a seri­ous and well weighed deliberation, which in youth must needs be di­sturbed with Objects of a brighter lustre; perswades us only then 'twill be seasonable to hang the Cham­bers with black, set up a grim Ske­leton, dress the Closets and Win­dows [Page 23]with bundles of Cypress, when the marrow of our bones is drunk up, when we have lopt off the excrescencies of an exuberant fortune, when weariness and disea­ses call froward and sullen Age to its retirement.

5. At what time soever a sinner doth repent: Here we have God's Word for it, that any time serves his turn. Why then should we ri­fle youth of his solace, make mea­ger the plumpness and fairness of our body with fasting and pen­nance, when we may beguile the nights tedioussness with revelling, and fare delicioussly every day? Why should we put on Sack-cloth and Camels hair, when we may wear Tiara's on our heads, fine lin­nen and a Tyrian Robe upon our bodies? rowl our selves in dust and ashes, in penitential tears, and heart breaking sorrows; when we may [...] down in beds of Ivory, bath our [Page 24]Bodies in Egyptian Liquors, and besmear our braided Locks with Nard? Why should we not drown the sound of a bold Boanerges (who denounces nothing but black and dismal portents) with amorous Songs, and heart ravishing Ditties, chaunted by Quires of beautiful Syrens?

6. Assoon as he hath thrown water (drawn out of the Stygian Lake) on those glowing Embers, beaten down those vapours that were only dancing in this lower Region, and for want of an hea­venly influence could not ascend higher, to be at a greater certainty, shews us all the glories of the World, carries us (according to our Saviours usage) from the Pinnacle of the Temple, to an exceeding high Mountain, from an affection, a lust of a lesser growth, to one of a greater maturity; knowing that his intoxicating cup (Philtre like) [Page 25]assures him our amours, that these adulterate delectations set out in the richest embroidery, have a fas­cination irresistible: And where our pleasures are there will our hearts be also.

Here are the World, the Flesh, and the Devil, enough to make a riot, to beat down, to level those Mounds and Bulwarks, that are slightly set up, and worse guarded for the souls preservation. Musaeus calls the light of Hero a deceitful one, because it extinguisht when Leander, amidst the boistrous waves, had most need of its dire­ction. So may it be said of the va­nity of this World, that 'tis an Ignis fatuus, a deceitful light, it leads us to Charnel-houses and Cmetaries, to death and destruction.

7. Therefore Solomon, that we may not be turn'd into hearts by the Inchantments of that Satanical Cir­ce, drink of those tilted Lees, enter­tain [Page 26]their dalliances and fawning Courtships, presents us a more love­ly and lasting Object, Our Creatour, at whose right hand are pleasures for ever more.

The grave and stanch Councel­lours of Rehoboam (that his Reign might not be built upon a slippery precipice) gave him this sound ad­vice: Speak kindly unto the people this day, and they will be thy servants for ever. So Solomon with the whole Hierarchy of Saints and Martyrs, bequeathed us this excel­lent Principle (grounded upon ex­perimental knowledge:) Speak hear­tily and fervently, unto God this day in prayer, in this Praeludium of our Age, and he will go in and out before us all the days of our lives.

To make such early provision is a removing the evil day far from us.

8. When the mighty Caesar fell, in the morning as he enter'd the [Page 27]Senate, a Book was convey'd into his hands, wherein was laid before him the whole Scheme of the Con­spiracy: but he disposing of it for an Evening exercise, lost the oppor­tunity of putting by those fatal thrusts made at him. Architas Ty­rant of Thebes, refusing to read a little Schedule (where, as in a Ma­gick glass, he might have viewed the Pourtraictures of his Enemies, and have seen the face of their Con­federacy) perish'd that Evening a­midst the Delicacies of a Banquet. Thus assoon as we appear upon this World's Theater, God stretch­eth forth his Scepter to call us to him, puts into our hands the Book of life, where, in legible Charact­ers are delineated to us the Strata­gems and Machinations of the De­vil, also how to break those Snares, destroy those Gins and Toiles set for us.

17. But if we will play with Fea­thers [Page 28]and Rattles, when our Salva­tion lies a bleeding; or, Archimedes like, draw circles in the dust; we may expect to be doom'd to Caesar's fate, if not in the bud, yet when we are full blown, before our tremu­lous leaves shall fall with Winter Frosts.

Qui primò obstitit, repulit (que) ma­lum, tutus, ac victor fuit: Shall Se­neca, a Heathen, give such demon­stration of a brave mind, and we, who have the glorious Gospel per­pendicularly shining on us, walk in the shades of death, and live as if we had not one beam or ray to in­vigorate us? The Naturalists ob­serve, Frigiditas non intrat in opus naturae. Whether it be a received Maxim in Phylosophy, I'm sure it holds in Theology. If we render God the Service of our Youth with cold and benummed hearts, it makes us rather retrogrades than advancers of our salvation. When [Page 29]we are composed of such dull Mate­rials, such phlegmatick Constituti­ons, that the bright rays of the A­postles, the flaming Torches, those Saints and Martyrs, that with Elias are carried up to Heaven in Chari­ots of fire, or those coelestial flames of divine truth brought down by our heavenly Prometheus, will not light our dull matches, quicken this earthy Compositum.

10. Lord! what warmth, what animation can they receive by thrusting them into the cold and dying embers, with the ashes of se­curity raked over them. Remem­ber therefore thy Creatour while thy vivid parts are active, while we can give our bodies a lively Sacrifice, before the Sun of our youth be set, or day darkned, and the North Star shine only in our Horizon, before the Winter of Age approaches, such years, such days, wherein thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them.

[Page 30]The Kingdom of Heaven must be taken by violence: How unfit then is decrepit Age to Camisado the Devil? Who, like that Roman Cocles, posts himself on that bridge we are necessitated to pass over, makes good that narrow streight that leads unto Heaven; and those infirmities, that soul vessel (our bo­dy) is then fraighted withal, so di­stract and discourage the mind, that it knows not where to make its advantage.

The Prophet Jeremy tells us; 'Tis good to bear our yoke in our youth. Assoon as Sampson's strength forsook him the Philistins prevailed, and made a mockery of him. If Jacob had wrastled with the Angel, when his strength (as a fortificati­on) time had dismantled, he could not have held eontest with God till the Morning.

11. The Ancient Romans would enrol none into their victorious [Page 31]Legions, but such as had strength in some degree equivalent to the Mag­nanimity of their minds. The Grand Seignior (whose vast Terri­tories his irresistible hand hath made Tributary) yearly assesses his Christian Provinces at so many young striplings (when confirmed in the Mahumetan Faith, principled in the Customs and Manners of the Country) to recruit the valiant band of Janizaries. Holy Writ shews us the same care in Nebu­chadnezzar, who culled out the to­wardliest Youths of the Israelites, that, by an early sowing in them the Seeds of Idolatry, they might be choice Instruments for the pro­pagating their Pagan Worship. And the Poets tell us, that their great God Jupiter would be served by none, but such as the young Hebe, and the beautiful Ganimede.

12. If the Glories of our bloom­ing Age shall thus adorn the [Page 32]Throne of Princes (whom God with the breath of his Nostrils can make but as stubble before the wind) Shall not then this Tetragrammaton, our great God for whom we want Epithets, nay, the Tongues of An­gels, to give him nomination) com­mand our attendance when clad in the fair Livery of a becoming Youth? Shall not we work with him whilst it is day? For when the night cometh no man can work, no vigour is then left to dissipate those Clouds, no Sun to exhale those Mills and Fogs that lie on the sur­face of our souls. Dum hodiè ap­pellatur: 'Tis to day that you must hear his voice. And you shall hear it in a sweet Tone, sung by God himself in the Quire of Heaven, with a Consort of Myriads of An­gels: Arise my Love, my fair one, and come thy way. If we were not a stiff necked People, a perverse Generation; We would eccho back [Page 33]that of Israels melodious Chanter; O God, thou art my God, early will I seek thee.

13. Plato in the height of his A­gony, amidst the pangs of death, thanked the Gods, That he was born a man, and not a beast, a Greek, and not a Barbarian. But that insen­sate man, that stops his ears against such heavenly Charmers, shuts out the Almighty, draws a Curtain be­twixt God and his poor soul, least the thoughts of Heaven damp his pleasures, the reverence due to so great a Majesty strike him into an awful obedience, when the untuna­ble summons of death alarum him, Plato's joy shall be his sorrow, wish that his ashes might never be kneaded into the same lump, but go to a Land of forgetfulness. Im­provident soul! the clear sky of thy felicity shall be soon overcast; thy short day will have a long night: For thy Heaven here thou [Page 34]must have an Hell hereafter.

Cleombrotus was so far transport­ed with reading a Treatise of the Immortality of the Soul, that he presently slew himself.

14. And it is recorded by Caesar in his Gallick War, that the bare o­pinion of the Druides (who taught that the Soul was out of the reach of Death, and that it out-lived the Bodies dissolution) made their Fol­lowers magnanimous in warlike Atchievements, and pull'd that frightful vizard from off the face of death, which otherwise would have stopt the carier of their pro­wess and gallantry. But that that made them valiant, makes thee cowardly, and (if made thy case) but faintly exprest, when the Philo­sopher calls it Terribilium terribilissi­mum, the terrible of terribles; when the Doors shall be shut, the Win­dows darkned, and the Curtains drawn about thee, the Mourners at­tending [Page 35]thy departure, and nothing but Emblems of sorrow and sad­ness, and thy evil Angel (like Bru­tus spectre) facing thee in this thy dismal solitude, and thou cry out to him, Habe me excusatum; and he will answer thee in the Negative, Thou must be stript of all thy Glories, of all thou accountest dear to thee; thou must to the shades below, and af­ter that to Judgment.

15. Then will the body (after that it feels the throws and pangs of Death) fly out upon the soul for her inbred contagion and senti­ments of impurity; and the soul accuse the body for giving fuel to all intemperance, for its officious­ness in acting the dictates of a cor­rupt mind, and only agree in that they are alike miserable.

How grievous will it be, when thou shalt consider thou hast bar­ter'd away thy God for a trifle, sold eternity for a moments pleasure, [Page 36]for that which Pindarus calls, The dream of a shaddow? And now eve­ry one of these Phantasma's attend the Exit, and sad Catastrophe of thy soul, carry a fagot to her funeral pile. Now canst thou discern (to thy immense sorrow) that Ixion like thou hast embrac'd a Cloud for Ju­no; That those Virgin faces have been Harpies, ravenous Birds, and that they had their Dragon Tayls under their deceitful wings; Jael­like they have brought thee butter in a Lordly dish, but born a hammer in their deadly hands.

16. 'Tis the Prophet Esay's call to the regenerate man lodged in the Chambers of the Earth; Awake and sing, ye that lie in the dust, because the dawning of your rejoycing is at hand, that you shall wear Crowns on your heads, and carry Palms in your hands: But to the unregenerate man will the call be; Awake and howl, ye that lie in the dust, be­cause [Page 37]the day-break of your for sorrowing draweth nigh. Then will yee cry out to the Mountains and Rocks to fall upon you, and hide you from the wrath of the Lamb.

Let therefore these expressions, which have put on mournful Robes, these Scutchions and Ensigns for lost souls, broach our eyes, and sost­en our petrified hearts; sting and quicken our remembrance for the works of a devout life, That we put not the consideration of our e­ternal welfare, like Joram's Mes­sengers, behind us. No trusting to an after game, when we have but one cast, one throw, whether we have Heaven or Hell: 'Tis odds a­gainst us we draw a blank, when we have but time to pull one chance out of this great Lottery, but few hours to redeem thousands of their Predecessours.

D. 1. It might have been Orna­mental to a Christian, what dropt [Page 38]from Seneca; Ante senectutem cu­ravi ut benè vivcrem, ut in senectu­te bene morerer. 'Tis no good trust­ing to that we can make to our selves no certain assurance of. It was therefore Saint Augustine's care not to venture his salvation (a thing so precious) on an Evening Repen­tance. We can promise to our selves no boon voyage, putting to Sea when our Vessel is leaky, and weather beaten, fitter to be ca­reen'd, than ventur'd forth upon the tempestuous Main.

2. What can we say for our selves, or who shall plead our cause, when the soul, and all her for­tunes, are properly Gods by title of Creation, and we change the pro­perty of them, and make them instruments for sin and Satan; when we prostrate our beauties to our lust, and make courtship and ca­resses to vile affections, to rotten­ness and putrefaction, whose defor­mity [Page 39]lies hid under a lilly'd skin spread over it, and serve God when our zeal is as cold as our bodies; when we cannot bend the knees to reverence our Maker, lest we stumble to the Earth, the Tomb which must presently enshrine those few dusts of ours? Though we are then free from some sins (but thanks to our age for such ab­stinence: Temperantia in senectute non est temperantia, sed impotentia temporantiae.) 'Tis not that our af­fections are surfetted, that we nau­seate those Cates we have so delici­ously fed on; Or Saint Hierom's Surgite à. mortuis, & venite ad Judi­cium, knocks at the doors of our hearts, and tells us; For all this we must come to Judgment; but that our bodies are not able to go an e­ven pace with our desires, that they are too much enfeebled to follow the pursuit of their former vani­ties: Why wait we not for the [Page 40]twilight to hunt the quarry of our goatish affections, but that our stock of fuel is burnt up, by too freely blowing the coals of our lust, or that Rheums and Dropsies have drown'd those scintils and sparks that were left?

3. Why Epicurize we not so much, but that there is a deficien­cy of heat for its digestion? Why rise we not so early to inebriate our selves? 'Tis because we have so many issues and botches (the plague sores of a debauched life) that makes our bodies Plena rimarum; Sieves like, they cannot hold full draughts. As the Prophet Elisha said to his servant Gehazi: Is this a time to be taking rewards? So, Is this a time to begin our Heavenly Pilgrimage, when all is dark about us? To begin to live, when a di­seased body, a distracted mind, and unsetled estate call for reparation? When (like the devout women) we [Page 41]might have presented to God, in the morning of our Age, gums, and sweet spices of prayers and suppli­cations?

Adolescens, tibi dico, surge. Now is the time that salvation is offered to us; when every faculty is in its most admirable perfection, the sen­ses most subtle, their spirits more agile.

4. The eye can best discern with­out a Perspective, the Effigies of God in his own person, and all o­ther his mighty works for the ser­vice of man; The ear quickest hear the sweet sounding musick of his word; The hands have a great­er dexterity to perfume God's Al­tars with the Odours of Alms­deeds and charitable actions; The feet strongest and best able to sup­port us to the hallowed Temple: Thus imploying our vigorous and active abilities, is a seeking the Lord while he is near to us. The [Page 42]nature of Quick-silver is to trem­ble, and be restless, till it find some­thing with which it may commix. So these Mercurial parts, if not set on work in God's service, will be sure (though to their own cost) take imployment elsewhere. Youth knows no Medium; its lively Em­bers will be either blown into a flame of Devotion or Concupis­cence. Let us therefore tread that path figur'd out to us, take that Clue in hand to lead us through the intricate Labyrinths of a per­plexed life: And, for our better direction, there are erected in ho­ly Scripture Pyramids and Columns, such store of lights, as so many Pha­ro's, that we may sail on with a prosperous gale to our haven of fe­licity.

5. If the glorious Mansions of the Heaven, with all its splendid Equi­page, be worth the purchasing; Let us Remember our Creatour. If [Page 43]at any time we Remember our Crea­tour; let it be, Juvenili aetate, In our rosie-morn, In the days of our Youth. If we will bate our selves so much of our present enjoyments, as to pay him Primitias, the service of our Youth; Let it not then be a lame, or disjoynted one, lest we be put by, as those maimed persons in the Old Law, from serving at the Sanctuary; but such vivid, such Heroick services, as will not shame the giver, nor cause God to with­draw his hands from deigning them a favourable acceptance.

6. This will forward our Jour­ney to the New Jerusalem; a City that hath all peace, all joy: Where there is no leading into Captivity, nor crying in her streets. A City of pure Gold, and the Walls of Jasper. A City that hath no need of the Sun, neither of the Moon to shine in it, for the glory of God doth light it: Where we shall not forget him; [Page 44]for we shall sing Allelujahs to him: Where we shall not forget him; for we shall have such glorified bo­dies, as to see him face to face without a flaming bush to inter­pose, without meaner Objects than Saints, Angels, Cherubims, and Se­raphims.

ESSAY II. 7. De Humana fragilitate.

QUod natum est poterit mori: Every birth will have a bu­rial. And a greater Rhe­torician than Seneca tells us; There is a time to be born, and a time to dye. The hand of fate signs no Indul­gences, reprieves not any, seeing all are doom'd and destin'd to the [Page 46]shades of death. Nullâ prece mo­bilis Ordo: No intreaties can re­verse the Decretals of Heaven. The world it self, with its resplend­ent Luminaries, Sun, Moon and Stars, plead no exemption.

8. Those weaker fires must be burnt with a more powerful one from Heaven, and every thing re­duc'd to its primitive condition, to a figur'd nothing. God only that was without beginning, knows no end. All things else will have their calcination, will to rubbidge. That Microcosm, man also (though but an Epitome of the World, yet of greater dignity than the whole U­niverse) for Adam's disparadising himself must have this Dilapidati­on.

Though the hands of the Al­mighty have kneaded us (Thy hands have made me and fashion'd me round about) and baked these bodies, when inorganical, in the Oven of the [Page 47]Womb, to a purity of ripeness, to an animation; yet our first sinning hath crackt these Vessels, that we moulder to dust again.

9. Though thou hast formed us so like unto thy glorious self, as made David out of an extasie of ad­miration, cry out, I am fearfully and wonderfully made; yet since we have blotted out the Inscription of Heaven, which was so gloriously figur'd on us, defac'd that noble Im­press thou was pleas'd to stamp up­on common clay, 'tis no injustice if we return to dirt again, for this Lord Paramount to change our free tenure into Lease hold, nay into Villenage. Since we refus'd to live in the Sun-shine of his favour, 'tis of our own meriting that we are doom'd to a Land of darkness. Though these earthly Tabernacles have the enoblement of being An­cient Demain, Crown-lands; yet have they no priviledge of immu­nity, [Page 48]shall not be freed from the common Gabels nature imposes up­on them, but have their devastati­on too. Though our bodies (by di­vine Institution) are the Temples of the Holy Ghost; yet if we make them receptacles for sin, we cannot expect loss than a dissolution of them. For, The wages of sin is death. Every man (as Tertullian hath it) being Homicida sui, a mur­derer of himself. Man forges the weapon, and sin is the sword that doth execution on us.

10. Dari bonum quod potuit auferri potest. The same power that cast these divided Elements into one en­tire Building, can with the breath of his nostrils destruct them again; and since we prove not Vessels of Honour, will speedily take the ma­trials asunder, and lay them in the dust: And yet may we not with Holy Job) say unto him, What dost thou? For 'tis the Lord's doing, and [Page 49]therefore marvellous in our eyes.

Seeing then we have pull'd this house upon our own heads, which if sin had not undermin'd (though but houses of Clay) had outbraved times dilapidation. Let us there­fore be content (our own conscien­ces having already proved our In­dictment) to hear that irreversible sentence pass'd on us, which hath long since sent many to the place of execution; though reprieved for a few days, yet wilt thou bring us al­so to death, and to the house appoint­ed for all living. We must all back to the place whence we came, the Earth, there lie fetter'd in the pri­son of the Grave, to be torn and mangled by her little Furies, fierce executioner, till our bones are pickt clean, till they have their incinera­tion too.

11. In the sacred rolls of Hea­ven we find the same judgment de­nounced against the heritage of the [Page 50]Lord, Thou Worm Jacob. No higher title doth the Lord bestow on the greatest of the Sons of men: For they shall all lie down alike in the grave, and the worms shall cover them. Stoop here, and see the po­lished Tomb-stone that's laid over us; the worm shall cover us: And read what Epitaph Job hath writ on it: Man that is born of a Wo­man is of few days, and full of trou­ble.

It had been enough to have said, We are born of women, without reading to us the destiny of a short continuance; for by that we might have spell'd our fleeting condition, and as in a mirrour, viewed the forms and Idaea's of our present suffrings. 'Tis necessary to derive our pedegree, blazon the cankred stuff we are made of, that we might not too much glory in a mistaken happiness.

12. Corruption thou art our Fa­ther, [Page 51]the worm is both our mother and sister. Like the Apples of Sodom, we may then appear glorious to the eye, but let the finger of God touch us, and we crumble to dust and ashes. That structure reared up of rotten and putrified timber, will have a fall, shall be forsaken of his supporters: Vessels kneaded of friable and mouldring matter, will into fractures, cannot long body to­gether. Of such an uncornbin'd Composition is man that is born of a woman, and therefore but of few days.

A short Requiem did that Noble Heathen sing to the soul of his en­deared son (upon the news of his disanimation) Sciebam me genuisse mortalem: I knew I did not beget an immortal being, that which could not die.

13. This reproves that too fe­minine nature of some, who melt down themselves with immoderate [Page 52]sorrowing, as if they would pre­serve their departed friend in the pickle of their briny tears. Cadant lacbrymae sed non fluant. Some small drops (as a rightful Tribute to the dead) may be sprinkled on the grave; if not for our dear bro­ther, yet for our disconsolate souls, that have lost the start of this bliss­ful Santon in his heavenly expediti­on.

That the body must perish, must have a change, nothing more cer­tain. Are not our ears continually alarm'd with the dismal sound of the Passing-bell? And whilst our eyes are busily looking on the Hearse, and pomp that attends it, we perchance stumble at a grave; and they, that even now carried their dead friend to his bed of earth, may, before the Sun hath run his next days course, justle with him for a grave.

14. Worms must necessarily de­vour [Page 53]us, to make room for others. For one Generation passeth, and ano­ther cometh, and that small portion of turf measur'd out to us by the Charnel-man, we hold but for a season, till we have forfeited our Lease by letting our building run to ruine, a dissolution of our selves.

Then we, and the Grave, carry but one Complexion; the Sons and their Mother Earth alike featur'd, the guildings and flourishes of Na­ture being quite erazed out of us: so that ill-favoured Thirsites appears as lovely as Adonis; Cleanthes a poor tankerd-carrier, as wealthy as Craesus: for the Mouthes of both are filled with Dust. Pompey, that would admit no equal, hath here no inferior: for Dust hath no pre­eminence, shews no Acts of Royal­ty, displayes no Ensigns of great­ness. Our Beautys (if we have a­ny such light thing to glory in) will become as Dirt, and our very [Page 54]deformities heightn'd to a greater deformity, the vilest of putrefacti­on. What Statist, by the help of his inspections, can resolve this to be Dust Imperial; distinguish that which sate on a Throne, from that which wearyed out it self in a Spit­tal?

15. What Anatomist, or Critick in Physiognomy, dare (by making inquisition on a Skeleton) trust to the Symmetry of those disguised parts, averr, here lie the ruins of Beau­ty, there the rubbidge of uncome­liness? What Classis, what Synod, what General Council can, by win­nowing or sifting the Dust of the Grave, say, this is believing Dust, that Atheistical? Such suddain re­volutions will the coldness, and chillness, and darkness of the Bed of Earth work in us, when once laid up in it, that we are not only lost to our selves, but to those that sudceed us. Can the Eye of Au­gustus [Page 55]Caesar light us to his neglect­ed Urn, which, before Death had eclipsed, shot such scorching Beams of Majesty, that, like the Sun 'twas said to dim the sight of his admiring Subjects? Or that silver-tongu'd Tul­ly tell us where we may rake up his disparkl'd ashes?

16. No Inquisition will the Son of Sirach have in the Grave. If thy charitable Friends be dispos'd to pay thee an anniversary mourning, it might prove difficult finding out thy Sepulchre: envious Time hath blotted thy Epitaph, crackt thy Tomb-stone, perchance divested thee of that upper Garment, and pieced it to some remote building. Allow it appear in legible Char­acters, we cannot say this Dust belongs to thee; some latter Friend may be there since interr'd; the Charnel-mans Shovel may by digg­ing too neer, pare thy Sides, throw the into the neighbouring Grave: or [Page 56]the Earths little Cannibals, in their Caresses and Frolickings, drag thee out of the Chancel into the Church­yard, or high-way, or feed on thee in thine own Grave, and spew thee forth in another. Hard finding thy Grave then, but harder find­ing thee in thy Grave, and hardest finding any piece of thee entire; if Sainted, not so much as to make a Relicque of. So many mutations, transmigrations, will these Raggs of Flesh receive in a few Centuries of Days, assoon as in Lus [...]res, or Olympiads.

E. 1. This then should teach them who do Turgescere fastu, swell with a Tympany of Pride, and self conceit, that they despise not their poor Brother. Did not one fashion us both in the Womb? Shall we then account him inglorious, whose Roofe is not seiled with Cedar, nor painted with Vermilion? Why, he that hath swallowed down Riches shall [Page 57]vomit them up again; and those stately Palaces, erected as so many lasting Pyramids to perpetuate our Names and Memories, are but Castles built in the Air: For when Death hath sealed our Mittimus, we shall, no more to our House, neither shall our place know us any more. So that we might take up that of Esau (though more justly) Lo I dye, and what good will my birth­right do me? Such embellish'd Mansions, when the Edifice of our Flesh shall ere long be dismantl'd? Such Hydropick desires of Gold, when we our selves shall become Dross, or (according to the Pro­phets embasement) reprobate Sil­ver? How far can Preferments stead us, when Death shall cut the Spurrs of Knight-hood off our heels, degrade us of all our Honours, level us with the Earth, nay sink us lower then the Dust we tread on?

[Page 58]2. Philip Monarch of Macedon falling in the Sand, and seeing there a perfect draught of his Body, cry­ed out, upbraiding his insatiable Ambition; O ye Gods, we think the whole Universe too little for us, and behold how small, and minute a part serveth.

In the Days of David a-short Arithmetick would have cast up the Years of Man, and how ma­ny Ages have since spent themselves to bring about this declining one, this last quarter? No Methusalems in these Days: for as the World that encircles us, wears, waxing old as doth a Garment: So this Mi­crocosm, this little World Man must wear. We cannot fetch out the Steps of our Grand-sires, their Shields, and Launces, are too weigh­ty for us to manage. One of their Monuments, where they allowed themselves but Elbow-room to lye, if destructive time hath not level­led [Page 59]its stateliness, and luxury, with the Earth (for the Mausolea them­selves shall be entombed too in the common Grave) would serve now to hide a whole Family of ours.

3. To our Pygmy growths our Years then must be proportionable: Our abode here shorter than a pe­regrination. Tho we pass by those Iliads of Dangers, that obviate us, and burn out to the bottom of the Wiek, dye in our socketts; yet deduct so many Years for our de­clination since those more durable ones, and; almost one half of that abbreviated time for Sleep (the Hand-Maid of death,) how incon­siderable, when, cast up, will the Summa totalis be that we have to live? How short our continuance? If they were but Sojourners when the World was in the Meridian of his Age, in its greatest Stature, what a hasty transition do we make in its setting, in its decrepitness. [Page 60]As if we came to give the World a visit, and, in scorn to its miserable shortness, bid a farewel to it.

If Life was but a shadow when God darted on them the rayes of his glorious Countenance, and held Dialogues with the Sons of Men, how far distant are we (that re­fuse to come into his presence) from the substance?

4. If our Life in those large strid­ing times was but a Span long, how short are we now of that Span? And if God doth not alarm us to Judg­ment, that a few Ages more succeed ours, their being will be so fleeting, so voluble a duration, so short, so incon­siderable, that they will not know how to entile it. Even now we attribute too much by calling it a continuance, having already, in the way to that general dissolution, suf­fer'd so much change, but that the precedent Words check the loud­ness of the phrase: Tis but short, [Page 61]but a few Days. Man that is born of a Woman is but of few Days.

He that lives longest hath but his Term, his being here is but as a Thought presently shoulder'd out by another. The Flower we know (though more gorgeous in attire than Solomon in all his Glory) in the morning is by the Suns vigor raised out of the Bed of Earth, dis­plays her Colours, and in the even­ing sickens, and dyes. Yet Man is no other; sometimes less consi­derable, rising with the Sun, and stays not his setting.

5. How great a part of mankind from their Mothers lying in, date their laying out? deliverd by the Hands of the Midwife, from the Mantles and bloody coverings of the Womb, to be sealed up in a winding-Sheet, post from one Grave to the other? How many (with the Babes of Bethlehem) see the World, without continuing so long, [Page 62]as to understand what they see, or, if they know it in the best of con­tent, conclude it not to be worth the knowing, if but for its short con­tinuance? How many before they arrive to that perfection Nature designs us (the beauty, and strength of Youth) are often so debilit [...]ed, that for want of Strength expire?

How few make their perambu­lations till they feel the decrepitness of old Age kicking up their Heels; or if the Thread of their Life be drawn out to a more unusual length, yet is it but a lassitude, a Province of Labour and Sorrow; every Mi­nute expecting when Death strikes at the crazy Doors of their Bodys, the Damps that they carry about them, making their Taper all that time burn Blew, ready to extin­guish.

6. That Death shall unbody our Souls, take down these tapestry Hangings of Flesh, strip us to the [Page 63]bones, what's more, incinerate, Calcine those very bones, distracts not reason; since there is a neces­sity for all men once to dye: Mors necessitatem habet aequam, et invict­am. But that we should untime­ly dye, and, which is more admira­ble Non admittere mortem, sed at­trahere; Make our hands (the Bo­dyes carefull Conservators) our own Executioners, is a wonder too transcendent. When a healthfull composure intends us for a longer time, precipitate our ruine, dig our own graves; as if we conceit­ed a greater misery in living then Job, or to lay violent hands on our selves were (after the Roman garb) to deck our heads with Garlands and Trophies for the conquest o­ver our present sufferings.

7. The two main Columns that support mans life, are heat and moisture: If there be an excess or deficiency in either, this stately Co­lossus [Page 64]becomes irreparably ruinous. But if we were such perfect Na­turalists, as to acquaint our selves with the right constitutions of our bodyes, and had an observant will to act according to the dictates of our knowledge, by measuring out such a temperament, that the heat be not cooled by an exuberan­cy of moisture, or too thrifty allow­ance for it to feed on, our lamp might burn with a greater Nitor, a more lasting Clarity. But such things, are we born of women, either to know so little, or, which is worse, make not practical what we do know; that either with ex­cessive ating cloy we that heat, make it unfit for digestion, or throw too much drink upon those glowing embers, or else frying up our mar­row, emptying our veins to fill the exorbitant desires of our lusts, we are hurry'd to our last sleep ma­ny decad's of dayes sooner then [Page 65]if we measur'd out every thing aequâ lance, with the hand of Medi­ocrity. No marvil our day is so soon clouded, our tale so soon told, our Pilgrimage so soon terminated: for not only Nature intends us a quick dispatch; but we must needs steal a Thief into our farthing can­dle, mend the swift pac'd sand that measureth our time, by shaking the glass of our life into quicker motion: Like that exquisite Lim­ner who cut a visible line through that small one coppied out to him by his competitor.

8. We have but one passage that leads us into the world, and that a strait one: For we come like Rebeccha's twins, strugling, and striving for our admittance; but death hath bands of Executioners in a readiness to give us our pass­port. Though there is but one postern that leads us out of the land of the living, Death, yet ma­ny [Page 66]are the wayes trod out to it.

Some foot it by those lesser paths of Agues, and Colds; Others ride the beaten and trodden wayes of Surfets, and Feavers; Others the common rodes, and high ways of Pestilence, and the Sword. At this Centre, Death, all lines meet, all rodes give up their passingers: and when we have discharg'd our Bill of fare, paid Nature her ar­rears (for we have been dying e­ven from our infancy) vestigia nul­la retrorsum; We make no return. The eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more.

9. Though we have our Magna Charta confirm'd to us by the king of Kings, and Lord of Lords, of a Sovereignty over the Creatures, as is acknowledged by the Psalmist, [Page 67] Thou hast put all things in subjecti­on under his feet; Yet there is no creature so contemptible, but may have a time to triumph with the spoyls of his Lord.

Every thing menaces destructi­on, hath an Invenom'd arrow rea­dy to let fly at us. The Fates could string their Bow with one single hair, when they sent a death to Fabi­us a Roman. A fly was wing'd with Destiny, when it choakt Adrian. Aristides, after he had escaped the furies of men and savager beasts, had the thread of his life snagl'd in two by the bite of a Weesel. A Gnat, or Emmet, can as well lay us in the dust as an Elephant.

10. An Ear-wig (when ransack­ing the Cells and private chambers of our brain) stings us as deadly [Page 68]as a Scorpion. A small fish-bone destroyes us (as it did once Tar­quinius Priscus) sooner than a shark, or Sword-fish. A pin may give Lethale vulnus, a fatal wound (if sharpn'd with the anger of Hea­ven) as readily as could Ajax speare: And this confim'd in the mourn­ful story of Lucia sister to the Em­peror Aurelius, who innocently sporting with her infant, receiv'd a small prick in the breast with her Needle, and through that small loop-hole presently death discharg'd it self upon her. God out of a little Orifice can give our vitals passage, and our souls can as easily sally through Chinks, and Crannies of our bodyes, as if it had doors, and gates to let it forth. Add then these casualties (from which no one purchases a Patent of exemption) to the natural infirmities of our body's (which are wounds, and bruises and putrified Sores) and our [Page 69]foolish propensity of imping those feathers, that of themselves are wing'd strong enough to carry us to our long home, and we must ne­cessarily conclude our emanation from the prison of the womb, to Golgotha, the place of execution, to be inconsiderable, so inconsidera­ble, as to have no continuance.

11. Is our time here but of short continuance? Then is it high time to trim our lamps. Rogus et urna meditanda. Set before our dreaming fancies our Pile and Pitcher, and every man say to his improvident soul, what the Prophet did to King Hezekiah; Put thy house in Order for thou shalt surely dye. Quamdiù? Cras quare non modò finis turpitudinis meae Saith St. August. How long will ye resist the holy motions of repentance, and cry out to mor­row we will purifie our souls with snow-water, when before the day cometh, they may be drown'd, swal­low'd [Page 70]up in their own pollutions. Let nothing therefore hinder thee to pay thy vowes in due time, and not at the vespers of death, when thy Malady and busie care to leave a calm and quiet estate to thy hasty successors, distract thee in thy ac­counts to God.

12. The womb was our tiring room to put on the habiliments of the flesh. The world is our tiring room to deck, and apparel our selves with the rich robes of righteousness. And we know not how soon the loud Musick of the last Trump will sound us forth, to shew to the all discerning eye of Heaven, whether we have acted to the life Comoedies of pleasure, and sensuality, or Tragoedies of sor­row, and compunction for sin; whe­ther we have chanted wanton layes, and amorous ditties; or Canticles, Hymns, and spiritual songs.

Let us with the Poet conceit e­very day to be our last, and with that Heathen Seneca, Efficere mor­tem, sibi familiarem; Make death our daily companion; so to prepare, Ut Moriantur ante nos vitia; That our sins give up the Ghost before us: For in our last scene they will shift their robes, and (to our great Consternation) all appear drest in their true deformities.

13. When this Pursuivant (Death) hath thus attacht the un­regenerate man, what hath pride profited him? Or what good hath his riches, with his vaunting, brought him? Then if he had the whole world at command he would take up the Devils phrase, All this will I give thee to reprieve me but a few days, that I might file off my [Page 72]rust, burnish my self for Heaven, cleer my freckl'd soul of those Mor­phewes, and stains, that present her uncomly in the sight of her mak­er.

But alass intreaties avail not any thing; ho deprecating fate: tis not our importunate whining can alter the decrees of Heaven. Think not, because, when God decreed Heze­kiah a present death, upon his hum­ble petition he reverst that heavy sentence, and commanded the Sun for a sign to go so many degrees back in the Diall of Ahaz, therefore that he will do so for us. Let us not be deceived by expecting an In­junction from the Chancery of Hea­ven. The Egyptians found it expe­rimentally true, that the Goddess of Destiny spared none, no not the [Page 73]first born in Pharohs Court, there­fore they built her no Temple, of­fer'd no Sacrifices to her.

14. ‘Non Torquate genus, non te facundia, non te Restituit pietas —’

It matters not whether we are of the Julian, or Claudian fami­ly, no embellishing of perfections, no ornaments of Nature, no sancti­ty of life can priviledge us from the grave: for every man hath his appointed time, and that a short one, and as if that were not enough, a miserable one too. The Prophets have foretold it, the Apostles re­veal'd it, every day, every hours experience confirms to us, Man that is born of a woman is but of few days, and full of trouble.

15. What? To be of few days, and that full of trouble. We should rather have thought, that the bre­vity of mans life had been remune­rated [Page 73]with all solace and delight; the few steps we tread had been on the fragrant Carpets, of roses, and violets, than, instead thereof, to find a repletion of sorrow, such sorrow as will keep pace with our being; though an unbidden guest, attend us, till we are entombed in our mo­ther Earth.

15. Job thought it too hard mea­sure (though he let it not go unre­pented of, sitting in sackcloth and ashes) when out of the bitterness of his soul he expostulated with the Al­mighty; Are not my days few? Cease then, and let me alone, that I may take a little comfort. This was but a fal­lacious argument. If he had chang'd his note it had been more tunable. Are not my sins many? Why then is the rod of affliction laid so gently on me? Why should the avenger of all things cease from punishing me, when I stop not my Career in of­fending? How can I with confidence [Page 74]beg any boon at his hands, when I vouchsafe him not a retribution of thanks? Our afflictions are no com­pensations for sins past, but some­times given us as a makebate be­tween us, and our indeered amours, to divorce us from the gayeties, and Utopian felicities of this deceivable world, which (like the Panther) pleases at distance with a perfum'd breath, but in their embraces mur­der us.

16. The carefull nurse imbitters her nipples with Worm-wood, that the Infant may nauseate the teat, and feed on stronger nourishment: God deals with his children, Antidotes the poyson, by sowring the pleasures of this world, making our honours and lushious delights pall'd and in­sipid; rubbs off the varnish, and shews their deformity, that we may no longer be Inamorato's of them.

Why then should we wrack, and torture, our inventions to acquire [Page 76]that which beggers us? Build steps, and stairs, to mount us on the Ter­race of a greater misery? (Tis St. Basils) Duriorem carcerem praepara­mus: by enjoying the opulent things of this life, we fortifie our prison, lay another coat of dirt upon our Souls, which hinders the beams of our Creator from irradiating them. There is nothing that in our esteem merits the name of good, but hath an allay, a checquering of sorrow.

F 1 We know the purest glasses will have their dews, their tears hanging on them; the brightest felicity its dropping cloud, an opa­cous body of discomfort; and plea­sures themselves will destroy us be­fore enjoyment, if plentifully pour'd out. Our souls are so shallow, that they will be soon surcharg'd, if they come towards us velut agmine facto, in too violent a source. Pliny re­ports that Chilon the Philosopher in [Page 77]embracing his Son (having a Crown of Laurel bestowed on him at the O­lympick games) with a surfett of joy presently expir'd. So did Marcus Iu­ventius, when the Senate design'd an ample honour for him. What pleasure can we expect, what trust repose in any thing that is under the Sun?

Miserable Job reads here mise­rable mans fortune, and in the glass of his own infelicity (the Devil lay­ing the Scene for his tortures) could cleerly see to set us this Elegiack dirge, full of misery. We have not one appellation in scripture (when dissected, untwisted by the Rabbins) that we find any thing to glory in.

2. In Adam we are call'd Red earth, which holds complexion [Page 77]with those spurious bratts hatch'd by us (our sins,) they are as red as Scar­let: and if the swarthiness of our dis­colour'd souls gives leave to blush at them, then do we keep to our dye too. Sometimes we are called Ish, but a sound, and that properly enough; for we come Crying into the world, ringing loudest peals of complaints, when our voice is inarticulate, un­expressive: And we may be com­par'd to a sound, a voice; for that is soon sent forth, and assoon lost. You see then, we l ave not our names for nought. God will not enoble with a splendid title that which de­serves so much embasing.

3. Indeed our piesent tribulations are as a thousand witnesses to assert this truth,

We cannot look upon any [Page 78]thing, but what appears with a a clouded face. Let us take our rise from our entrance on this stage of life to the shutting up our last Catastrophe, and we shall appear Actors in one continued Tragoedy. No sooner bolt we out of the womb (for we come head-long into the world, which shews our giddiness and innate love to it) but we find an entertainment so cold, that we are fain to warm us with our own tears, and our ability so faint, so useless to administer relief to our crying necessities, that our little Organs are presently sounded to im­plore a necessary aid, our legs too weak to underprop the small burden of our bodyes, our hands not strong enough to reach us sustenance; and she that landed us in this vale of misery could not keep us from going assoon out of it, if the arms of a stranger did not reprieve us from the grave. All that time we are [Page 80]led and directed by Tutors, and Governors, reckon our selves under the rod of persecution, differing no­thing from a servant, though Lord of all.

4 And no sooner arrive we to compleat man, but emulation boyls within us to such a tumour, that we envy, and hate, those we see move in an higher Orb; and think our condition but Heremitical, be­cause the seat of our Sovereignty is not built high enough, to give us prospect over our Neighbours. Un­der this Torrid Zone of our age, in these distempering dog-dayes, our desires are so exorbitant, affecti­ons so disproportionable to the dic­tates of reason, that while wander­ing through innumerable Laby­rinths of care and trouble, trusting to the Clue of our own fanatick spinning, we lose our selves, and seldom attain to that our betraying fancy reach'd at. What though [Page 81]we crown our endeavours with a sought for success, the felicity of our enjoyment, in a just ballance, will weigh too light, if set against the harrassing of the body, and wrack­ing of the spirits in procuring it? So that this florid part of our life, if compar'd to the other extreams of age, appears to you at first with as great a difference, as the Sun in its pride to a day of clouds. Yet upon a due calculation we have as many Halcyonian dayes under either Polar Star, as under the Eccliptick of our youth.

5. Having now cut the line, sailed through this dangerous pas­sage, I shall lead you into a more temperate Climate; but there we make no long progression, enjoy only some few lucid Intervalls: For before we can purifie our blood, poyson'd with the sin's of our youth, bring back our straying fancies, re­compose the distempers of our bo­dyes, [Page 82]settle the Vertigo or giddi­ness in our brain, the Winter Quar­ter of age approaches, disparkling such cold influences, that the warmth of our breath hath not vi­gour enough to thaw the Isicles that hang on those few hairs, our many sins could spare us. Tum quic­quid aetatis retrò est, mors tenet; Death makes one in this last Scene, journeys with us in these latter dayes of our Pilgrimage. So that the same may be rehearsed to us (though in ano­ther sense) which St. Paul preach'd to the wanton widdows, That we are dead while we live. Our tatter'd flesh, suppl'd with Salves and Un­guents, swadl'd and held together with plaisters and trusses, like rui­nous buildings with Clasps and Cramperns of iron.

6 What is it then but labour, and sorrow, and, as the wise-man renders it, Days wherein we have no pleasure? Though he terms them [Page 83]dayes, yet are they overshadowed, in which we enjoy but a twy-light, the sable Curtain more than half drawn about us; our Candle all that while blazing in the socket, giving more of ill savour, than light; So that we are not only a bur­den to our selves, but an offence to others.

If we did but curiously scan the distempers incident to each period of our life, and what a Symphonie there is in the whole to compleat our sorrow, so that though we shift the Scene from our Infant Morn to the Solstice of our age, that to our declination, 'tis rather a malo ad Pejus, not to better our condition, but present it more disconsolate.

7. Good reason have we then, be­ing men of like infirmities, at this grand Inquest of mans mortality, [Page 84]to give in with Job the same ver­dict, though he as our foreman (for his experience) speaks for us: Man that is born of a woman is of few dayes and full of trouble.

Since a fullness of trouble co-ha­bits with us in these earthly Taber­nacles, 'tis our happiness that our lease is of no longer continuance. Seeing here we float upon a Mare Mortuum of misery, it may comfort us that we are not far from the shore. If Heaven had granted a longer Term, it had been but to be longer miserable. For holy Job ob­serves; While the flesh of man is up­on him, he shall be sorrowfull, and while his soul is in him, it shall mourn.

8. Now if we have conform'd our selves to Gods holy rule, where­by to ground a confidence, that Christ is gone before to prepare a Mansion in Heaven for us, that con­sideration will alleviate the harsh­ness, and asperity of our sufferings, [Page 85]sweeten the imbitter'd cup that Na­ture hath put into the hand of every mortal, dull the edge of our tribu­lations (the certain concomitants of this life,) sugar all our tears, stiflle all our groans, make us with the Salmander live in the flames of our persecutions, call to our astonish|'d enemies for our funeral Pile, that we may embrace it with glad­ness; 'twill suggest that ere long we shall change these vile bodies (now subjected to the outrages of Fortune) for glorified ones, that we have not many days to pass through this wilderness (inhabited with Ser­pents and Scorpions) where Legi­ous of sorrows and vexations march after us, like the terrible Host of the Egyptians, before we arrive at our promis'd Canaan.

9. Though sickness fastens on us, almost to the throwing down of these mudd-walls, this tottering fa­brick of flesh; yet will it appear but as [Page 86]sweet slumber, because of our assu­rance, that when we are dissolv'd we shall be with Christ. Though our for­tunes are unjustly seiz'd on to gorge the exorbitant lusts of higher Pow­ers, and we left as trimly suited as Adam in his green Apron, yet shall we pot repine at our chastisement, since the king of Kings, by an Act of resumption, takes back no more then what he formerly lent us the use of, and in the height of our penury sing a Te Deum, knowing that God hath stored for us a trea­sure in Heaven, so lasting as moth, and rust, cannot Corrupt, so sure as Thieves cannot break through and steal. Though we are bereaved of our children (those little Images of our selves) yet will we look up to Hea­ven, from whence flew the arrow of his vengeance, and appease our sorrow with David's Salve; We shall go to them, they shall not re­turn to us. Though all the misfor­tunes [Page 87]of the world, like an inun­dation, break in upon our weak defence, yet this Red Sea shall not swallow us up, and as Paul and the rest of the passingers (when ship­wrakt at Melita's shore) boated all safe to land on planks and broken pieces of the ship; So we, when wrackt, and torn, on the rocky hearts of our remorsless enemies, lay hold some on one comfort, some on another to land us safe in our wish­ed Port.

10. Though we are beaten for professing the name of Christ, yet let us, with Peter and John, rejoyce, that we are counted worthy to suf­fer rebuke for his name. Now said Ignatius (the Martyr) begin I to be Christ's disciple, when in his journey to Rome he received scorns, and con­tumelies, from a band of Souldiers commanded for his Convoy. We are then in highest favour in the Court of Heaven, our soul brightest, [Page 88]when it hath the light of his arrows, and the shinning of his glittering spear.

Curtius records of the great Alex­ander; Semper bello, quàm post victo­riam Clarior; That he appear'd more Illustrious in the inquietudes of an hazardous war, than in those serene vacations that he triumphed for his glorious victories. Disturb­ances, and anxieties, in our life many times put an edge on the bra­very of our spirits, when too much prosperity becalms them. An over­casting cloud makes the Sun of our felicity arise more radiant. The fairest picture must be shadowed with the blackest ground-work. A Diamond emitts a more vigorous lustre when set within a black ena­melling: So, afflictions are the souls foyl's, to set off, and make her ap­pear more amiable in the sight of her Creatour.

11. We better see our faces in Jett than in Alabaster; cleerer dis­cern [Page 89]what stains the soul hath con­tracted in the glass of adversity, than prosperity. Christal is too lucid, too transparent, gives no reflecti­ons. So honours, and earthly plea­sures, shed their beams, dart their rayes too powerfully, destroying our Souls Opticks, that we cannot perfectly discern our selves, nor God lowring on us, till they are in their declination, till they make a longer shadow.

Seeing then the sorrows of this life are the truest glasses to dress our selves in, though they are burn­ing glasses yet let us look stedfastly on them, and there shall we behold Tyara's, and scepters, prepared for us. Our lamentings (by their ex­cellent Alchymy) converted into songs, our Captivities into triumphs, our ignominies into Crowns and Diadems. And not like that wretch­ed Apostate who forsook the froz­en lake, and that glorious compa­ny [Page 90]of Martyrs, not long after to dye the death of an Infidel.

12. Though we walk upon the backs of Porcupines, the way set with thorns and prickles, yet is it but for a few dayes; for ere long we shall be at rest in the grave. And at that great Audit, when Christ shall deign to meet us half way in the Chariot of the Clouds, we shall be raised again in the twinkling of an eye.

Though our Tombs are defac'd, our Urns kickt about, and our neg­lected ashes promiscuously mingled with the common dust, yet God (that great preserver of men) will rally every shatter'd limb, and pair those feet that were before Antipo­des, set every splinter, carefully gather every scatter'd Atom, put sinewes and flesh upon every dry bone, give to every seed his own bo­dy, to every body his own soul, but more refined, made more glorious: [Page 91]For in the resurrection our terrestri­al bodies shall be sublimated to a Celestial perfection, be like unto the Angels in Heaven, and, if that be not change enough, have an assi­milation with God himself. Though nature, and her Elementary bodies, be at variance, yet there shall be the nearest conjunction between God, and us: For we shall be marr [...] unto the Ancient of days,And I will marry thee unto me for ever. Saith the Pro­phet Hosea.

13. Then Time shall be no more; for we shall be to all eternity. Faith shall be no more; for we shall have an Epiphany, a day of glorious manifestation of all his promises. Hope shall be no more, for there shall be a perpetual Jubilee, a constant fruition of such superlative beati­tudes, that the tongues of Men and Angelsin deciphering them seem but as sounding brass, or as a tinkling Cymbal. But love in its altitude, [Page 92]in a quintessential perfection, free from the violences and transporta­tions, the weakness and imperfecti­ons, the heats and colds of our love to the Creature, which varies with its object. This not sullyed with any mixture of malice or envy, when it beholds a Saint sit in an higher Throne encircled with a big­ger Crown.

14. If so many Kings and Princes threw aside their Coronetts, and Diadems, that they might have more leisure to contemplate the ex­cellencies of Heaven, when their understanding was but weak, their love but an Embrio; If so many Martyrs hugg'd and kist their stakes, laid them down in their flames, as in their Marital beds, to conserve this love, to secure themselves for im­mortality; How bright and glori­ous will the flame be, when it shall have the fervour of a Seraphim, the purity of an Angel? When we [Page 93]shall see the Object of our love (God) with whom there is no change, or variableness, and still desire to see him. To meditate on him here, is to see him here­after.

ESSAY III. G. De Passione Christi in Corpore proprio.

HEre's black tinctured in the deepest die, words of such transcendent Prevalency, that would make stubborn Rocks [Page 96]relent, and exact a fluency, of Tears from the sealed up Fontanels of our Eyes. Can any Heart, (though petrified to a wonder) not break that brittle Mansion 'tis inclosed in, when it shall hear one sing his own sad Elegy, ring his funeral Peals with such mournful Bells?

2. Had that Tyrant Nero, who sung the Ruines of Troy (when inviron'd with the Flames of his Imperial City) bin a spectator of this Tragedy of Tragedies, heard these doleful Notes (clad in so sad a Livery) so attracting Sorrow and Compassion, Pity would at an in­stant have Triumpht over cruelty, and made him turn convert to the highest Commiseration. For who could stifle a tributary Groan, when he heard this dying Swan sluctua­ting on the bitter Waters of Af­fliction, without being ever after deafe? Who could with a supercili­ous look (without suffering an ab­solute [Page 97]Ecclipse) behold such inno­vated Punishments, too grievous to answer the foulest Treason, under­gone by him who had not the meanest trespass to account for? Or yet in this Iron-hearted Age of ours look on this sad Lamentation (though superannuated) and not set his sorrow to a louder Key, then the doleful mourning of Hadadrim­mon in the Valley of Megiddo.

3. But if these attendants here (these words that wait upon this mournful piece of Scripture) move us not, or the deplorableness of our condition beget no emotion, yet hear his own complaint, soun­ded by that golden Trumpet Jere­miah, we know not what an unex­pected reformation it may work in us: For he that out of Stones [Page 98]could raise up Children unto Abra­ham, and squeeze the hardest Rocks into flowing Rivers, can with the Breath of his Nostrills mould our Hearts into the softest temper, and raise a right and unfeigned Lamen­tation; for never Words were spok­en more emphatically, or with a truer accent of Sorrow. Have ye no regard all ye that pass by? &c.

4 As petty Punishments become petty Offenders, so an abyss of sin­ning calls for an abyss of Suffering. 'Tis no meritorious act in an Ho­micide to bow down his Head to the stroke of Justice, for he shall but sacrifice it to the Blood of ano­ther: There the Law makes it com­pulsory, fashions the Punishment to the Offence. But for the Son of God, the second Person in the glo­rious Trinity, (one so free from Spot or Blemish, that durst say to his critical Enemies, which of you can rebuke me of Sin) to bow the [Page 99]Heavens, and come down from his Imperial Throne, where he sate surrounded with Saints and An­gels; to approach this vile World, which was before his Foot-Stool; to put on the rags of human Flesh, which before was cloathed with light as with a Garment; and from a King of Kings to be enrolled a subject, and pay Tribute to Caesar; that rid on the Wings of Cherubins, here in his greatest Triumph to bestride a silly Asse; that thought it no robbery to be equal with the Father, to make himself of no Reputation, and to take upon him the form of a Servant; that had so many glorious Mansi­ons in Heaven, so wholly to dethrone himself of all Pomp and State, as not to have a hole to hide his Head in, to be hunted like a Partridge in the Wilderness, betray'd by one Servant; abjurd by another, for­saken by the rest, and generally scorn'd and scofft at by the Multi­tude, [Page 100]spat at, scourg'd, and deli­vered to a Death, the most igno­minious Death, the most torturing Death, the most prolonging Death. All which summ'd up could not be endur'd by any, but one that participated of the Dei­ty, or ransom less than the Sins of the whole World.

5. Now our Messias could not have writ our Names in the Book of Life, if he had not descended to the susception of our Infirmities. So that he was made Man to suffer, God that he might be able to suf­fer. Not that the God-Head was Co-partner with the Humanity, or any way attenuated his sufferings; for that was invulnerable, impas­sible. But the All sufficiency of the Deity sustained, and strengthened, the insufficiency, and weakness, of the humanity. Else could he not have trod the Wine-press of his Fathers Wrath, drunk so deep of [Page 101]the Cup of his indignation. That which would have torn, and shat­ter'd, the best built edifice of Flesh, Christ is enabled to undergo, that he might not give up the Ghost, till he hath gone through what a wrackt invention of exquisite Ty­rants could inflict.

6. But before we go up to Mount-Calvary (the Scene of his Trage­dy) let us walk to the Mount of Olives, that from that Ascendant we may take the better prospect of his doleful Passion: There shall we find him labouring under such an Agony, as should make him so exceedingly sweat, sweat Blood, drops of Blood, and that trickling down.

7. No wonder there was such Distemper in his Body, such an [Page 102]Ebullition of that most precious li­quor, when God had sent fire into all his bones. If our astonishment hath not already overset our reason, benighted our senses, look on him in the Judgment-Hall (though but with Peter afar off) yet may we be neer enough to see him run the Gantlope, his virgin body enduring so many stripes (as some affirm) wearied a whole band of souldiers.

The Scribes and Elders had rea­son of state to hasten his death: But that Mercenary souldiers (whose short winged souls seldom soar so high as Court-Politicks, and whose Commission we sind not so exten­sive) should, contrary to the noble­ness of their Profession, act the ig­nominious parts of abominated Hangmen (especially when the [Page 103]meekness of his phrase would, like softning oyl, rather Mollifie their stony hearts, than confirm their ob­duratness) illustrates Gods height­ned fury to sin, and so consequent­ly to Christ, then the greatest sin­ner in the world. He should not sip in the cup of his fathers wrath, being now to drink a Health to the whole world, but quaff off the very lees of his indignation.

8 He shall not have the liberty of Job, with a pot-sheard to wipe off the excressency of Blood; for those holy hands, that had been so often extended, to give comfort to his afflicted people, lifted up to his father to reach down mercies from Heaven for his persecuting enemies, so Charitably dispos'd to deal Almes to so many Thousands, are now fast bound, and they (who should have guarded him as Prince of Jury, not Prisoner in Jerusalem) are already voting his destruction in their hasty [Page 104]leading him away to [Pontius Pilate the Governor.

O hard hearted Jewes, not only cruel to your Saviour, but pittiless to your selves in refusing to be wash­ed in the laver of regeneration; spill so much Nepenthe, and not cool the tip of your Tongue with one drop, make of it no cherish­ing Cordials to strengthen your enfeebled souls; wound this Balsom tree, lance this Wing Palm, and hang no bottles to gather the dis­tilling liquor, but let it fall (like a box of rich Spicknard) on a parch­ed hearth, not to be gather'd up!

9. The morning being now come (too bright to look upon such black deeds) they set the great Judge of Heaven and Earth to re­ceive his Condemnation from men. Little hopes to receive the benefit of Clergy, when the High Priests, and whole Sanhedrim, are his Pro­secutors. Pilate might have sayed [Page 105]the pains of denouncing sentence against him, who in his present sufferings represented the truest fi­gure of death.

10. But 'tis decreed this Holo­caust must be off'red up to attone the incensed Majesty of Heaven. Caiaphas the High-Priest prophesi­eth the same. Womens assaults many times batter down mens strongest resolutions. Strange then if Pilates wifes Petition carry not a prevailing. Sed oportet Christum pati. The sentence of Heaven is irrevocable; no appealing to a higher Tribunal: Her Petition then for this time shall be rejected; and though she suffer many things in a dream by reason of him, Neverthe­less (like the neglected Prophesies of the Trojan Cassandra) it shall [Page 106]pass but for a dream, to cleer a small scruple of Conscience. He will not enter the Lists alone with the Jewish Nation, and so run into a Premunire against Caesar.

And now no sooner had Pilate made clean the outside of the Plat­ter (the inside still streaked and purpled with the Blood of Christ) washed his hands in token of Inno­cency, but they presently cry out for his Crucifying; as if nothing could rebate the edge of their cra­ving Appetites, unless they ca­rous'd full Draughts of his Blood.

11. They must needs go whom the Devil drives: some (whose Feet are swiftest to shed Blood) are already run to the place of execu­tion, and there proclaimed him coming. Others thrust him out of the Old, and accompany him as far [Page 107]as Golgotha to the New Jerusalem; and, instead of sable Vestments (a decent attire for a departed Friend) or the Romans sacred Velles and In­fules (mention'd by Livy) signs of submission, and humble de­manding of Mercy, put on Crim­son Robes dyed in the Blood of Christ; instead of solemn Dirges, ring loud Peals of Acclamation. And they that not long before ushered him with Triumph into the Holy City, singing Hosanna to the Son of David, presently change Note, crying, Crucifige eum, crucifige eum. Though he lie weltring in his own Blood, yet is he forc'd to try the strength of his bruised Limbs, and he that (to the admiration of Be­holders) reanimated the dead, and enabled them to take up their Beds and walk, must take up his Cross, and walk his last Peregrina­tion. For Holy Writ informs us, that Malefactors among the Jews [Page 108]carried the Cross, whereon they were to be crucified, to the place of Execution. Christ for the first Stage carried his own, which af­terward with a cruel requital bore him.

12. Would not so nefarious a death expiate so small a crime, so slenderly proved, have fed their meager Appetites even to Satiety, but there must be added to it a Ceremonious Mock­ery (Bellerophon like) bear the Warrant signed for his own De­struction, embrace that Altar on which he presently shall be offered up a Victim.

Isaac carried his own Funeral Pile to the Mountain where he was to be sacrificed, but had a timely Reprieve by an Exchange from Heaven. It fared not so with Christ. He was so far from esca­ping that sharp potion the Hand of God had imbittered, that, before [Page 109]he came to receive his grand Tor­tures, his whole Body was one main Wound, without the least Paren­thesis of Soundness. Never such Indications of Love.

13. Every where Engrave­ments and Sculptures the indelible Characters of his superabounding Mercies.

And now is this our immolation laid on the Altar of the Cross: and that Man should not surfeit to dam­nation by eating the fruit of Eden, Christ climbed that accursed Tree, which bears nothing but bitter and deadly Fruit; so inexpressive, as Ci­cero undertook not (lest he should spill colours) to decipher the Tor­tures of the Cross: else would not [Page 110]his exuberant Style have quitted a Subject so abounding with so few words. Quid dicam in crucem tol­lere? A bloody Tragedy must needs ensue where the Devil digests the Plot, and the High-Priests, Scribes and Elders are the chief Actors in it; the avenging God letting loose, and unmuzzling the whole powers of Hell.

14. Certainly those Fiends could not so soon forget the many Affronts put on their Delegates by our Sa­viour, as being thrown out of their possession of Men, and glad to be humble Petitioners to have admit­tance into a Herd of Swine (too good a dwelling for such unruly Guests.) Where we may observe, that though they at present could not disgorge their full swollen malice, yet, to shew how ill they resented this disgraceful expulsion, threw a whole Herd of Swine into the bottom of the Sea, to provoke [Page 111]the greedy Gadarens to defire our Sa­viour (as the Author of that Loss) to depart out of their Coasts. No mar­vel the Prince of Darkness endea­voured to cloud this bright Star of the East, proclaimed open War a­gainst the Prince of Peace. But that his Companions in the flesh, what's more, the terrours of his Father should set them in array a­gainst him! 'Twill not then, mis­become this man of sorrows, in the height, of his dolorous passion, to break forth into this bitter Com­plaint, to upbraid those unrelenting Passengers with this (though too mild) exprobation. Have ye no regard all ye that pass by? Behold, and see, if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, which is done unto me, &c.

15. Our Saviour's naked Body hanging now on the Cross, mode­sty for a while bids me draw the Curtain; and if you look back you [Page 112]will see greater things than these: for we have as yet but walked the round, and at a distance taken a slight survey of the out-lines of this great Peice of sorrow; but if we make a nearer approach, we shall find the inmost and more sensitive parts sending forth deeper Groans, louder Outcryes.

There was Poena animi, as well as Poena corporis: And a wounded spirit who can bear? Else would he not have cryed out, and that with so loud a voice, before his remors­less Enemies (whose proud rejoy­cings were the eccho's of his Sighs and Groans) My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? The repe­tition of [God] shewed the ve­hemency of his Passion, as if he felt himself wounded with God's wrath, and abandon'd of his own Father for our sins: our impieties carved greater wounds in his discon­solate soul than those of his Body; [Page 113]his Feet and Hands were but once nailed to the Cross, but his Soul­piercing Wounds forced a tontinu­ed Distillation: for every levity he paid a Groan, and the least senti­ment of sin cost him a sob, a tear.

16. If Christ paid so costly a rate for our Peccadillo's, our Ve­nial Sins, it must be keener than a two edged Sword, more loathsome than the baneful juice of Aconite, to see the Borish Gergasites prefer the saving of their Swine before the imparadising their souls; the Buyers and Sellers in the Temple pollute so sacred a place rather than lose a convenient Exchange for their Merchandise. Could any sor­row be like unto his sorrow to find Unbelief, a Disease so Epidemical, and in his own Country, where so near a Relation should have at least paid him equal respect with remo­ter parts, there to have his Pedi­gree scornfully rip'd up, Is not this [Page 114]the Carpenter's Son? As if God (who measureth not as man doth in de­ceitful Ballances) were a respecter of persons, or he that fabricked this admired Machine without mat­ter, could not Royalize with a Commission the abjects of the peo­ple to act his high Commands, or (to use the Apostles Phrase) make known the riches of his Glory on the Vessels of his Mercy.

H. 1. Could any sorrow be like unto his sorrow, to hear Peter (that great Corner-stone) who had so solemnly promised to wear his Master's Cog­nizance (even to death) to discard him when his greatest extremity challenged his best and stoutest ob­servance, not once, but thrice, heightened with direful Oaths, and horrid Execrations, and that to a silly Maid, in the presence of his Lord & Master, and obstinately per­sist in it, till the Warning-piece went off the third time, and shot re­morse [Page 115]into him? Could any sor­row be like unto his sorrow, to see the Holy City Jerusalem (the Me­tropolis of Jewry) with its Glorious Temple, now the beauty of Nati­ons, ere long to suffer such a Dilapi­dation, as not to have one Stone stand upon another, making good what was sung at the Funerals of another Sceptred City;

2. When Hector, Captain of Troy, Was despoiled of his life, the Trojans and their City became a Prey to the Neighbouring Nations: so soon as those Regic [...]des destroy­ed their Native Prince, the Ro­man General both conquered and crucified them. In verticem ipsius recurrit pernicies. Our just God making the hands of Heathens in­strumental to vindicate the cause of [Page 116]Heaven. Could any sorrow be like unto his sorrow, to see himself e­very where bespattered with bitter Sarcasms, who should have been Deliciae generis humani (the Ho­nour of the Emperor Titus) and a Murderer reprieved; one that destroyed the living, before their Christ who had raised the dead?

3. Could any sorrow be like un­to his sorrow, to see the seduced Populacy (who should have been so bold in the cause of their salva­tion, as to have vyed tears with the drops of his most precious Blood, tun'd their Sighs and Groans, to the loud tenor of his Out-cryes, and rivings of his Soul) carelesly pass by shaking their Heads? To see those Rabbies, the Scribes and Doctors, so far from applying a Sovereign Cure to their tainted Souls, that unless he would shew them another Miracle by an imme­diate descending from the Cross, [Page 117]they would not believe? As if all those mighty Works he had alrea­dy shown, and same had brought home from remoter parts, were clean forgot. Could any sorrow be like unto his sorrow, to see his Kinsfolks and Familiars stand afar off, and made so unfit to pay a full Tribute of Commiseration, as that they could not with safety own a clouded Countenance?

4. If he eat with Zachens he is accounted a Friend to Publi­cans and Sinners: there they unawares speak truth, for he seeks their Conversion; I came not to call the righteous, but sin­ners to repentance. If on the Sab­bath he cures the diseased, and gives them a Reprieve to complete their Calcule for that great and ge­neral Audit, 'tis a breach of the Law of Moses. If he speaks mysti­cally to them (by wresting it to their own sense,) form it into mat­ter [Page 118]of Accusation. When the Ty­rians and Sydonians heard the Ha­rangue of Herod the King, they raised their Notes to the highest: Ac­clamations, styling it The voice of God, and not of man: But if Christ embroider his Speech with Tropes and Figures, though never man spake as he spake, his Friends say, He is mad, his Enemies cry out, He hath a Devil. O quae mentis acerbae moestitudo? But why should we wade farther in this, since we are no more able to fathom the depth of his sufferings, either of Soul or Bo­dy, than S. Austin's Child could lave out the immense Ocean with a little Spoon.

5. Some will say much may be undergone in good company; but for Christ (who before he assumed this Body of Flesh, was. a compa­nion to the great and mighty Je­hovah, and well might be so, when there was an equality of [Page 119]Greatness, waited on by Myriads of Saints and Angels) now to be pla­ced between two Thieves, two no­torious Delinquents, could not but mount his thoughts to the summit of sorrow. That Virtue is seated betwixt two Evils is a Maxim unde­niable, since 'tis so notably verified by our Saviour's hanging on the Cross between two Malefactors (likely companions are these then for extenuating miseries, when their natures admit of such perfect contrarieties, as good and evil in their several Abstracts) who there, instead of an ingenious Confession, revile their Fellow-Sufferer Christ Jesus with this tart Satyr, If thou beest the Son of God save thy self and us.

6. A strange Object had they found out for their scorn and deri­sion, who was wholly composed of Meekness and Gentleness; but a stranger time had they made use of [Page 120]to vent it in, when death had them on his Shoulders: but the one of them (to the wonderful demonstration of the readiness, and prevalency of his Mercies) presently turn'd Con­vert, reproving his Companion; Fearest thou not God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? And in the nick of time (while the Iron of Contrition was hot) hammered ont a well form'd Petition; Lord, re­member me when thou comest into thy kingdom. Words fitly spoken, hanging like Apples of Gold in Pi­ctures of Silver.

7. They needed not have made so curious a scrutiny for new fashi­on'd punishments to afflict him,

For when Vinegar mingled with Mirth and Gall, was proffered him to drink (a favour bestowed on [Page 121]such at their Crucifixion, to open the Veins, and so accelerate death) Christ would not drink, lest he should marr the whole Tragedy, by failing in the last Scene. Good God! if these be the Favours Man deals to Man, let me receive my Favours from thine own hands. From the first putting on the Swad­ling Clouts of Flesh, he had yield­ed most acceptable Sacrifices of per­fect Obedience to his Father: and therefore the horrour of the last three Hours Suffering should not make him sound a cowardly Re­treat, and so frustrate the Decrees, and preordain'd Resolves of the Al­mighty. Perdidit vitam, nè perde­ret obedientiam. He would give up his life, rather than make forfei­ture of his obedience.

8. Unless we go beyond nature for a search, the fire of the hottest Revenge will expire, when it hath the Blood of its Adversary sprink­led [Page 122]on it. But their malice rebated not with his death, but had a con­tinuation to his Body after his high flying Soul had journied as far as Heaven; else would they not have desaced that incomparable piece of Building (glorious in it self, but more glorious in being the Sphere for this Son of God to move in) by thrusting a Spear into his Vir­gin Side, for Blood and Water to stream forth, too too precious to be spilt on the Ground of that most ac­cursed Country.

9. Timanthes a Grecian Painter, when he was to resemble the dole­ful Sacrifice of Iphigenia, drew a sad Ajax, a mournful Ulisses, but the Face of Agamemnon, the Father, he veiled with a sable Curtain, as not knowing how to decipher so great a sorrow. So we may content our selves to have de­lineated the Bewailings of his Di­sciples, that received the glorious [Page 123]Impress of his Doctrine, the in­ward sighs and bitter Lamentations of his Friends and Kinsfolks. But instead of shewing you his wound­ed soul, stabbed with our sins, his tortured Body, such Throws so un­expressive, such pangs so unsuffera­ble, something should be interpo­sed betwixt your sight and it, lest out of a zeal to draw that to the life, we take from the State, and Majesty of so true a sorrow.

10. As the Fore-runner to the sad Catastrophe of an Heroick Po­tentate, a blazing Comet prodigi­ously shakes his flaming Beard, as if it threatned to fire the lower Re­gion to light him at his Funeral: But at so great and terrible a Mas­sacre of him, who could bind such Kings in Chains, and their Nobles with Links of Iron, could the Sun, that shone but at his courtesie do less than withdraw his Beams, lest it hold the Candle, whilst such [Page 124]horrid Assassination was perpetra­ted on the Son of God? Or the Earth, his Foot-stool, to fall into a Trepidation, while it bore such un­natural Inhabitants, that (Viper like) would tear out the Bowels of him, who brought Bowels of Mercy and Compassion to their languishing and Bed-ridden Souls? Since Christ should be no more preached in the Temple, but polluted with Buyers and Sellers, rent it self in twain from the top to the bottom, the Stones clave asunder, and in their inarticulate Oratory bespake their accursed ruine, and our insensibili­ty. The Allarm so great that the dead who had long slept, awaked, as if they arose to present him their Tombs. Every thing full of pro­digy and wonder. The great Lu­minary of Heaven suffers an E­clipse, though the Moon, not then in conjunction, but full, to the ad­miration of Dionysius; Aut Deus [Page 125]naturae patitur, aut mindi machina dissolvetur. All things in that dis­order, as if nature were distracted, and every thing ran back to its first Confusion.

11. Thus we see, Sun, Earth, Tem­ple, Stones, which are the insensi­ble servants of Man, by their seve­ral unaccustomed Mutations, seem to have a quicker resentment of his sufferings than man, who alone is concerned without any Corrival.

By this time devout Joseph hath begged the Body of Jesus, and (though a rich man) ventured to shew his affecion to him living, in a decent interment of him dead. While his charitable hands are throwing on fragrant Spices, and rich scented Odours, let us a little look back on that great Attribute of God (his Justice) that which here occasion'd our attendance on this sad and solemn Obsequy.

12. Those Pieces must needs be [Page 126]well limn'd, that have the hand and care of the best Artist to figure them, Adam is here drawn to the life, for he is stiled the Image of his Maker; his Soul of no Elementa­ry Substance, but the Breath of God. And this Epitome of the Creation, prelated so high above exacts he but an observance to one single command; the Command high and peremptory, upon the pains of Death; the temptation languid, and saint, commended by a Serpent.

13. That he, that is thought to exceed his Successors in wisdom, and had the precipitation of the An­gels, the wrackings of those glori­ous Vessels, as in a mirrour figured to his understanding, should (by so soon affronting his Maker) split that Ark that carried the whole for­tune of Mankind, and afterwards [Page 127]give the lye to his Omnisciency, and essential Ubiquity, by shrowding himself in the close Walks of the Garden (as it God wanted a Clue to the Maeanders of his own plant­ing; or one Tree could repair what the other lost, shelter him from the imminent Storms of Heaven; or that there were an Opacity in those Glorious Opticks, who could see through the dark and disorder­ed Chaos to model and rank things into a beautiful Order) and in his Epostulation aggravate this sin by a seeming extenuation; The woman whom thou gavest to be with we, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat: (As if God had laid the Scene for his Transgression) If I had been a­lone, steered my own course, I had not thus offended, Strengthens this Bill of Indictment drawn up against him, and calls for justice to avenge it. O Lord, how shall we fulfil the whole Law, when Adam in his [Page 128]brightest integrity, but newly dropt from the hand of his Maker, could not observe this poor Particle of it? The Spark that flies the Fire that fed it shall be put out. If we re­fuse the allowed Delicacies of Pa­radise, nauseate the Cates of his own planting, we shall earn our Bread with the Sweat of our Brows. Since we dislike to equal the days of Heaven, we shall die like Men, die eternal deaths, if not expiated by the Crucifixion of the Holy Je­sus.

14. As our Impieties are tran­scendent, so will his justice be ele­vated to the same height. Our Sa­crifices must be adequate to the mul­tiplicity of our Transgressions. Could man, by exposing his own life to the fatal stroke of death, sa­tisfie for his own offences, his debt were quickly paid, and Heaven with all its Glories purchased at an easie rate. But the only wise God [Page 129]well knew that the whole world of flesh, though it had as many worlds as this hath Men, and all to endure the exquisitest deaths the most in­genious Tormenters could inflict, would not take off the interest of our Engagements, no, not, expiate the crimes of one days offending. Let us not therefore think we are hardly dealt withal, because God would not remit any thing of a due debt, but forbear giving up our Verdict, till we sweeten our cen­sures with the ensuing Mercies, which is that that next presents it self.

15. As the Mercies of God are above all his Works; so is this Mer­cy of his, in sacrificing his only Son, Paramount above all his other Mer­cies. For since Hecatombs of Beasts could not appease the wrath of God, but that we must enjoy the blackness of Hell for our de­merit, he freely bestowed on us his [Page 130]beloved Son, to live miserably a­mong those which gave him such untoward welcome, to pass through such an agony as should make him sweat Blood, Tears of Blood; to die a cursed death, such a death, such a sorrow, that none but him­self could endure, no Tongue but an Angels can relate.

16. Friendship is never so truly beautified, at no time so gorgeously set forth, as when, like a ready Handmaid, it waits, upon the great­est indigency. God was, and is, that true Friend to us. He saw how near we sate to the Margent of Hell, how the Devil stood in Ambuscado with dilated Arms, ready upon our first tripping to lay hold on us, our own imbecillity to resist: the Attack; then sent he one that would not be foiled, should rescue us out of the Regions of Darkness, though with the unavoidable loss of his own most precious Blood. Ungrateful [Page 131]Man, though he hath defaced the Image of his Maker, disrobed him­self of all his Glories, yet would not God that he should die eternal­ly, as is most eminently seen in this his one mercy.

As it was a mercy in God in be­ing this way satisfied for oui Often­ces, so was it as great a mercy in Christ to lay down his life: for he did it spontaneously, and without compulsion; his Passion being wholly in compassion to those,

I. 1. No man taketh my life from me, but I have power to lay down my life, & I have power to take it up again: That he that was God, and is God, should die, is man's wonder: but that he, who could draw forth more than twelve Legions of Angels in warlike Equipage to his Rescue (when one [Page 132]single Angle proved sufficient to slay one hundred and eighty five thousand armed Men in one night) would die most readily, lay down his life, rears that wonder a degree higher. But that this Son of God (whose Soul was so Crystalline, whose whole life more innocent than the Seraphical thoughts of expiring Saints) would prodigally pour forth his most precious Blood to bath and cleanse our Leprosie, is an exaltation of that.

2. It shall be upon record, as an high peice of merit, if one man lay down the Treasures of his own life to cancel the exacted debt of of his Friend.

Alcestes reprieved her Husband Admetus with the loss of her own life. Maecenas, a noble Theban, [Page 133]embraced death to restore life to his Captive Country. Calphurnia, the Daughter of Marius, was by him sacrificed in the Cimbrick War. History is replete with blazoning Graecian and Roman Worthies, who have disvalued their own lives, when in competition with the safe­ty and honour of their Country. This had a limitation to their Friends, to their distressed Coun­try, yet it entitled them to be seat­ed in the hallowed Pantheon, en­rolled among the Gods, to have Tombs and Statues, built to per­petuate their memory to futurity. But Christ's love was universal, it had the essential property of good, it was sui diffusivum, it extended to the whole Universe, to those that despitefully used him. In the A­byss of his Passion, in the throws of his most compungent sufferings, Lord, lay not this sin to their charge. There could be no ends in Christ, [Page 134]no accumulating of Glories, in whom dwelt the Fulness of the God-head bodily.

3. The insuperable and transcen­dent love of Christ is every where legible and conspicuous. Let us fashion returns of Gratitude in the greater Odium to our Deviations, that cost him so many pains, so ma­ny sorrows; making that pious re­solution of S. Bernard our own, Nolo vivere sine vulnere, cùm te video vulneratum: As long as we hear thy Wounds, as so many Mouths, crying out upon the cru­elty of our Aberrations, we will not live without a throbbing Soul, a wounded Spirit. He had days of Humiliation for our Festivals, sor­rowing for our rejoycing; drank Vinegar mingled with Gall for our Carousing; for our Purple and fine Linnen he wore a Robe of Mockery, and that spat on, and de­filed; was scourged for our wan­tonizing; [Page 135]macerated his own Bo­dy, to pull down the excressency of ours, over-grown with a reple­tion of Luxury; crowned with Thorns to obtain for us a Crown of Righteousness, that he might throw to us the Donatives of Everlasting Life. And after all this (as if his Endearedness to us had been hi­therto unexpressive) ascended the Cross, that by that Ladder we may scale Heaven, and for our prize have the Fellowship of Saints and Angels for ever.

4. Thus we have seen God's Ju­stice, and Mercy run parallel. His justice must keep us to that severe awe, and perfect Obedience, that presumption get no footing in our hearts; not so much as an Out­work, whereby it may at any time surprise the main Fort. His mer­cy must teach us not to despair of his seasonable relieving us; though our Sins are the black Curtain [Page 136]drawn between the light of his glo­rious; Countenance and us, so that we are almost dried up, and wither­ed, yet, at, the least appearance of our Humiliation, he will shed some Gleams, dart a Ray of Favour upon our drooping Souls.

5. An abused patience amongst most men transforms it self into a fiery indignation. What greater mo­tives for God to destroy the interest we have in his favour, than our dis­dain and ingratitude. The Israe­lites after they had once received from the hand of God Livery and Seizin of the Land of Canaan, and by that had a confirmation of the validity of his Promises, they so soon forgot the exuberant mer­cies of the Lord, that he presently seised on their large Charter of Li­berty, and gave them into the hands of Tyrants, Christ when he had once peiced the rich Robes of the Deity to the rags of flesh, [Page 137]soon found us sick even to death, our wounds gangreen'd, and no­thing could restore them but his own Blood. Medicabile Nardum, rich Spikenard, precious Oint­ment; he searched into our sores, wiped off those venemous polluti­ons we had attracted from the Loins of our first Parents, made us sound men, left us his Antidotes, In­structions to continue sound Chri­stians. But we must not like an over-confident Prodigal, who hath his first Debts strook off from his Friends hopeful amendment, con­tinue his unthriftiness, presuming to find their favour as prolifical as at first. Debet amor laesus irasci. Love once abused changes its smiles into frowns.

6. God will not be mocked; he hath a Rod of Iron in his Hand, which he will not always brandish over us, but when we provoke his wrath he will strike home. Tar­ditatem [Page 138]irae gravitate supplicii com­pensabit (saith Lactantius.) Though God doth not present execution, yet when he is pleased to scourge us, he will recompense the slowness with the weight and grievousness of our Chastisements.

Then when God is angry who can stand before his wrath, or a­bide the fierceness of his displea­sure? his wrath is poured out like fire, and the Rocks are broken by him.

7. Because the Almighty hath hitherto given us a Life-Guard of Angels, that therefore he will con­tinue the same protection to us (however we demean our selves) is an argument built wholly upon fallacy. The distance is many times great betwixt his Will and Power. 'Twere easie for God to make the Black Guard of Satan splendid Courtiers in Heaven, transplant all the fiery Legions of Hell into Parar­dise, [Page 139]hallow and sanctifie all their Profanations, transforming them into glorious Angels of Light, and instead of howling and shrieking, make them perfect Choristers to sing Anthems in the Celestial Quire. But that God will have his justice go an even pace with his mercy; they to be tormentors for sinning, we to be tormented by them for offending.

8. But let it not be with us as in unsound Bodies, the expelling of one Disease the making room for another, which may be as obnoxi­ous as the first; instead of a too confident relying upon the mercies of God, and our own worthiness, to fall upon its contrary evil, a de­spairing of the sufficiency of his promises. From the last, a Rock equally as dangerous as the first, should be our care to waft our wea­ther-beaten Vessels, when we have almost steered into safe Harbour. [Page 140]We cannot figure any thing of the inward and distant Lights of the upper Region, without the assist­ance of a Telescope. But God, with a Glance swifter than Light­ning, darts through all the Fig­leaves of our pretensions sooner than thought; threds the Maze and Labyrinths of all our Hearts: Then must he needs give a verita­tem dixisti to Moses, Our Imagina­tions are evil, and that continually. Assoon as we shake off the Fetters of the Womb we are froward, re­pining at our Maker's dealing with us, who might have moulded us in­to Monsters. As soon as we draw breath we draw in sin, and that with Greediness. But let not this anatomizing our contagious Souls startle us, or fill us with conceit, that therefore we shall utterly pe­perish; for if we were destined to damnation, then were our Creation no happiness, but a curse.

[Page 141]9. If we timely take up, God will let light into that gloomy dark­ness that invelops us, disperse those full swoln Clouds of his Wrath, that they break not on us. He is not an inexorable Judge: his stock of mercy is as replete as ours of sins. The Thief on the Cross de­ferred his repentance till the last moment (when we are sure he had not time to make long Pray­ers) yet did out-run many who all their life rode post to Heaven, and gave in his Benè discessit the same day the Son of God entred into his Glory. If after all the abomina­tions of Sodom and Gomorrah, A­brabam could have found out but ten righteous persons in those Re­gal Cities, God would have stopped the Viols of his Wrath from being, poured out upon them. A strange discouraging Lottery, where so many thousand Blanks may be drawn, before the Hand of God [Page 142]can light upon one prize. Here might we enumerate the mercies of God, and for want of numbers leave them numberless. Sure this would have more puzzled Archi­medes's Arithmetick, than the Sands of the Sea he proudly vaunt­ed he could give a number to.

10. 'Twas a mercy in God to midwife us from the dark Prison of the Womb, which otherwise would have been to us a putrid Grave. 'Twas a greater mercy in preserv­ing us till we arrive at a ripeness of Knowledge, that we may con­sider our admirable making, with the wonderful Architecture of the Universe. But a greater mercy than that is the possessing our Souls with the saving knowledge of his Word, which is a Lantern to our Feet, and serves as a Pale, and Fence, to keep in the depra­ved mind of man from breaking out into all Enormities. Where, [Page 143]for our greater Regulement, we may see as clear, as if painted by a Sun-beam, the Sufferings of the Primitive Saints, and God sup­porting them to hold out the Con­flict to the end▪ without Apostacy; and likewise his Justice severely executed on those, that presumptu­ously spurn at his Ordinances, and despise his rich mercies.

11. But his mercy of mercies, and greatest of all mercies, is, that of sending his only Son, who was equal to the Father, and the Holy Ghost in Majesty and Honour, to have sorrow, such a sorrow as should make him so dolorously complain to all those that passed by. To die, to die such a death as should make him so passionately cry out to his Father, as if he had suffered the height of God's Anger (his Dere­liction) and all to exorcise us of sin, and Satan; ransom us out of a Land darker than darkness it self, [Page 144]that we may be elated into the highest Heaven, where we shall be as far above the Sphere the Sun moves in, as we are now below it.

12. And that great and terrible Jehovah, whom we durst not name without a venerable prostration, whose clarity we cannot here be­hold, but through a Glass darkly, by reflected Beams, there see face to face, know him as we are known, accompanying Saints, Angels, Che­rubims, and Seraphims, in singing Praises to that great God; where Sorrow shall know no Beginning, Bliss no Ending.

ESSAY IV. I. 13. De Passione Christi in Corpore mystico, seu de cruce piorum.

'TIs a Canon drawn up in the Colledge of Heaven, that through the Ordeal Fires of Adversity the Saints enter the Regions of Blessedness. 'Tis fan­cied [Page 146]by the Poet, that Aeneas pas­sed through strange and uncouth places, had much of horror and trepidation before he reached the Elysian Plains. We must sail through this Fretum, pass these Straits before we lanch out into the Ocean of endless Beatitudes.

14. We must scale these rugged Alpes before we make our Intrado into the Campania of future Glory. There is no Galaxias, no Appian way to Heaven; 'tis not Lapidibus complanata. And this every where proved to us by the Footings and Tracings of many imparadised Saints ; some to the Theatres to be baited with wild Beasts, as Ignati­us; some to the Fire, as Polycarp; some to the scalding Baths, as Pho­cas Bishop of Pontus; others to the Scaffold, as Saint Paul; every place tinctured with the Blood of Mar­tyrs, the Prison in Jerusalem, the Cradles in Bethlehem. But their [Page 147]Race is run, they have finished their Tragedy with a glorious Exit, with the Plaudite God and An­gels.

Some say the Lilies have no other Seed than their own Tears. We are sure the Church hath no better Seed than the Blood of her Mar­tyrs. It is a goodness we are not to thank our Enemies for. That which is intended for an utter extir­pation, proves our best preserva­tive.

15. Our Bodies keep the sound­er for their Phlebotomy. The more they trample on us, the higher we rise: Antaeus like, we gather strength by our fall. This embol­dened Tertullian to tell the Blood­shot-eyed persons of his time, that their persecutions did but open the Sally-port to God's distressed peo­ple. Plutarch reports how that Promotheus stroke his Enemy with an intent to destroy the object of [Page 148]his hatred, but instead of cutting the Thread of his Life, spun it out to a greater length; prob'd a hid­den wound, lanced a concealed Im­posthume, which otherwise had proved fatal. Here is the true Sword Salve which both wounds and heals. O lovely Sore, when the Heavenly Aesculapius puts on the Plaister: O happy wound, that worketh so glorious a restoration. He that beholds the Wrackings and Tortures of the Saints and Servants of God, without faith to look up­on the Crown their Saviour is wea­ving to adorn their Temples with, or to conceive the Caresses and Ex­ultancies their Souls make in the midst of their Agonies, will behold them with much inquietude and a­stonishment.

16. 'Tis the contemplation of the Joys of Heaven that buoys our Souls, that they sink not in this black Sea. Through that Medium [Page 149]thy not only look into Heaven, but Paradisum mente deambulant. See but the Bead-roll of S. Paul's Suffer­ings; read but the Bill of Fare he draws you of a perturbed life, you would think he might make the greatest Holy-Day. Magnum ali­quid spectat. Sure there was some immense thing he looked after, that kept him from Swoons and Faint­ings, that alleviated the sorrow and anguish of his soul: and here he gives us of the refection, assures us our affliction is but light, and, which makes it inconsiderable, it is but for a moment.

Philosophy tells us, that the worlds chief materials are Food and Raiment, the rest is Nugatori­um quiddam, whole absence may be dispensed withal; and therefore, if the chosen of God want the Redun­dancies of an exuberant Fortune, we cannot say their life is levened with sorrow and discomfort.

[Page 150]K. 1. If we anatomize man in his Umbrage, his mendicant Con­dition, we shall not find him so pa­red to the quick, but that he may rival with him whom fortune hath aspected. Zeno Citiensis lost all his Goods in a storm. This which would have made foul weather, rai­sed a Hirrecan in anothers Breast, he not only receives in a calm and serene temper, but counts it a Bles­sing from the Gods that they had gi­ven him liberty to study Philosophy. 'Tis not the thing it self that hath any intrinsecal worth to ennoble our condition, but our manner of re­ceiving it, the value we set on it. Paul the Hermites Coat was as gor­geous in his Eye, as if vested with a Persian Robe. And John Baptist's Locusts and wild Honey tasted as sweetly, as if he had feasted at the Table of Apicius or Lucullus. Dio­genes Earthen Platter, and the Ro­man Senators Dishes of Clay, were [Page 151]as useful as if molded of China Earth, or imbossed with Gold. The purling Water tasted as deli­ciously out of those courser Gob­lets, as dissolved Pearls drank out of Cups of Agate and Crystal by the riotous Anthony and Cleopatra. And if we respect fame, Epaminondas and Fabricius are transmitted to posterity with as many Asterisques of Honour as that wealthy Crassus; their contented poverty studding and enamelling their best Perfecti­ons.

2. Let our condition be never so abject, so necessitous, we have no rea­son to obnubilate the Sun of his Fa­vour with the least interposition of distrust: for Heavens great Almoner many times gives us a measure brim full, pours out the over-flowings of his Love, and that when all humane help is at a loss, and impossibility of self-preservation. Where could the Israelites have found out mate­rials [Page 152]for the cutting out new Gar­ments in their forty years sojourn­ing in the Wilderness, if God had not miraculously minded their pre­servation? Sure no Workman­ship so lasting as that which this great Architect fashions with his own hands: the Ground was too rude and churlish to give Viands to so many Guests, yet the Flesh-pots of Egypt could not equal the Dain­ties they are in that barren Soil.

3. Sure the Banquet must be rich and bountiful, when this ge­nerous Dispensator furnishes the Table with Cates, fetched out of the Store-House of Heaven. And Elijah in his indigency had his Mess brought him, one while by an Angel, another while by a Ra­ven.

We have not yet seen any Gor­gon Faces to affright us, and though we are led into darker Rooms, yet the Damps will not be so great as to [Page 153]make our Tapers burn blew. To be sentenced to the Athenian Ostra­cism, denyed to breath the Air that suckled us, torn from the society of Friends and Acquaintance, snatch­ed from the dear Embraces of an indulgent Wife, to hear the Cries and Heart-breakings of a tender Off-spring, or, like disconsolate Niobe, see them slain in our own sight. We might think this to be calculated for the Meridian of Sor­row; yet it is a Grief that may be very well supported with the Con­templation of what is yet left us. And if this be not Cordial O­perative enough, consider that in Heaven we shall not be erratick, but Stars fixed in the Firmament of Glory; not irradiated with a bor­rowed lustre, but perpetually en­lightened with the presence of God himself.

4. Plato never reckoned him­self destitute of Company as long [Page 154]as he had the conversation and free­dom of his own thoughts, never ba­nisht his Countrey when he had the fame Elements for sustentation, the fame Luminaries to give him light and warmth. They may erase our Palaces, disparkle our riches, strip us of all the world calls beau­tiful, because we are here but Te­nants at will; but that which we hold by a second life is a Building not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens. They may dilacerate our Bodies with unaccustomed Tor­ments, undress them of natures chief­est imbellishments, yet they cannot disrobe our Consciences of their white Vestments, extinguish those bright flames which (like Elias's Chariot) coaches us up to Hea­ven.

5. If they banish me (saith Brutus) they cannot forbid to carry with me my Vertues. They are Crown-Jewels that must not be fingered, [Page 155]no ravenous hand may embezzle. Though Detraction blurs our Ho­nour with her sowr Breath, makes putrid the sweet Ointment of a good name; though our Statuas are thrown out of the Capitol, and hung up by the Heels in the Forum; though our names are blotted out of their Records and Annals of fame, registred only with scorn and imbasement, God permits it, that from this obscurity, out of this lowness of Fortune, he may do himself the more honour, shew the excellency of his power by mounting us on a higher Throne, drawing the Rays of our Glory to a brighter Lustre. Historians eve­ry where shew us many brave men, as well Heathens as Christi­ans (who had no other fault but too much merited of their Coun­try) that have been paid with scorn and ingratitude, nay, with Proscription; and afterwards, with [Page 156]the consent & applause of those very Persecuters, have thrown off the Mantles and Coverings of Darkness and Obscurity, and like the Sun af­ter an interposition, appeared all Glorious.

6. God seldom remunerates his Ser­vants here with a temporary felici­ty. Some indeed have been crown'd with Rose-Buds, have let no Flower of the Spring pass by them. Though Mordecai, a Captive, was invested with the Royal Robes, and rode up­on the King's Horse, yet others have gone on foot, and not a seem­ing Gourd to refresh them, but so as he comforts and keeps vivid the Vitals with his Spirits and Ex­tracts, distilled through that glori­ous Limbeck, Paul the Apostle: We may be troubled on every side, but not distressed, perplexed, but not in despair, persecuted, but not forsaken. God hath Balsom for every Wound, a Plaister for every Sore, and [Page 157]though he dress it not while it is green and fresh, yet he will make his applications before it fester.

What though God suffer an Exe­cutioner to lay violent hands upon thee, he cannot go a step beyond death; he does but antidate the work of a Disease, the difference only is, a nefarious hand presently storms the body, and a malady takes it in by a longer Siege: few drop like a wasted Taper in the Socket, but some violent wind puts it out, some sharp Disease is the ex­tinguisher, and the Conflicts and Colluctations that such have with death adequate the throws of a more hasty Transition. So that it matters not whether we die Sicca, or humida morte; whether we are burnt with a quick fire at the stake, or a lingring one of a Fever; whe­ther we are thrown into the Tiber, or drowned at home with a Drop­sie; whether starved in a Prison, or [Page 158]shrivelled in our Chamber with a Consumption.

7. Since God hath a Statute up­on our Bodies, It being appointed for all men once to die: and that we cannot be removed from our Trou­bles of Life but by death, then the shortest way must needs be the best. 'Tis a poor thrift to put a Save-all in­to our Farthing Candle, to be angry because the thred of nature is broken before she has time to wind off the whole bottom. Though the eye of Moses was not dim, nor his natural force abated, yet when God bade him, Go up and die, he readily quit­ted his own command, went up to the top of Pisgah, and died. The Primitive Christians set so great an estimate upon the days of their death, that they called them Nata­les. Then they only began their Epocha of living: the world was but before in labour with them, and death was the Midwife to give them a Nativity.

[Page 159]8. Certainly could we but hear the Transports of a refined Soul singing an Obiit to the world, pre­paring her Heavenly Viaticum, it would have a strange charm, a­wake our Poppy Souls, and infuse into them raptures of joy and exul­tation unexpressive; or if fabrica­ted according to the Model of that Philosopher, who would have a Window in the Breast of every man, we might see a strange Festi­vity within him, not a Cloud in that Hemisphere. What more lovely than the wounds of Sebastian (though drawn with a rugged Pencil)? Those feathered Arrows­winged him for an Heavenly Flight. Does not a Martyr amidst his Flames shew like the Sun encircled with Rays of Glory? And S. Ste­phen, when brought before the Council, appeared not with pallor & dejection (like a Malefactor that looks half executed before the [Page 160]doom be past) but so Seraphical, that the Judges saw his face, as though it had been the face of an Angel. When a Saint hath been mounting a Scaffold, have we not been big with conceit by those few Stairs he was ascending a Throne; that it was his Jacobs Ladder that railed him up to Heaven?

9. He must needs make a boon Voyage, that in so little a time is set on the shore of eternity, with so few steps is carried from earth to Heaven.

Let not then any thing startle us, though vizarded with loathsomness and deformity, nor be terrified, though we change life for death (with that brave Theban Epami­nondas) so the Victory may be glo­rious. It is God's care (and who would not almost love his Disease for such a Physician (many times to use Corrosives to the Body, that the Soul may have her Lenitives; [Page 161]punish the worser part, that the better may be preserved. To a mortal man there can be no im­mortality of evil, man himself hath but a short period; his life compared to things of the least du­ration. And yet they that acted the most tragical parts (no doubt) had some Interludes and Recesses. It was not long that Joseph lay in prison, nor Job on the Dunghil, nor Jeremy in the Dungeon. O­thers have put on Mourning for a longer term, but they also had a time to shift their Sables. Dabit Deus bis quoque sinem.

10. It is against the Rules of a Tragedy to have every Scene filled with Blood shed and Slaughter. A strange distempered Season if the Heavens should continually be hung with black; as strange if we always sate in darkness, that the Sun did not sometimes peep through our cloud of Adversity. Though [Page 162]it enlighten not the whole Body, yet it may guild the Fringes and Borders of it; gives us, though not a glorious light, yet sufficient to keep our dying spark alive. But against all partiality, it must ap­pear strangely short, if compared to the never terminating pains of the Fiends below, where the Worm never dieth, nor the Fire ever goeth out. It is observed by Boetius, That a punctum of time, and ten thousand years hold better proportion than so many years, and that endless thing Eternity. Ae­ternum, aeternum, quanta, haec dura­tio, quanta! How much horrour and amazement should the conside­ration of it bring to them that bar­ter for a present felicity, a few tran­sient Glimmerings, so much hor­rour and confusion; where they shall spend morientem vitam, be al­ways dying, and yet never die; not one drop of Water shall be cast [Page 163]into the Furnace to slack their Flames, not one spark of Fire shall warm these refrigerating Waters: and to heighten the wonder, con­traries shall dwell together without any destructive clashing. Lamen­table is the cry of the Prophet Esay, Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? who among us shall dwell with everlasting Burnings?

11. Is it not then better to be cast down with sorrow for sin, than to be sunk so low, that we never rise again; to be clouded for a while, than over-cast for ever? Melior est modica amaritudo in fau­cibus, quàm aeternum tormentum in visceribus: It is better to chew a little Gaul in our mouths; than to have Gripings in our Bowels, and Excoriations in our Souls, and that for ever: to drink a Jill of Worm­wood, than to be perpetually in­toxicated with the Cup of his fiery Indignation: to endure the heavi­ness [Page 164]of a night, for the joy that cometh in the morning; a day that shall never be benighted, a day that shall not have so much as a Cloud to veil or curtain the Saints happiness.

12. It was answered by that famed Emperour Vespasian (when Apollonius desired admission for Di­on and Euphrates, men eminently qualified) My Gates stand always open to Philosophers, but my very Breast is open to Apollonius. So the Gates of that Palace Royal of Heaven, that sure City of Refuge, are never shut against such as are beaten on the Anvil of Affliction for righteousness sake. But God receives these to a greater endear­edness, stretches their natures wider to receive a fuller measure of Glo­ry, erects their Throne with more refined Gold, sets richer Jewels in their Crown, that ennoble their suffering with Patience and Glory [Page 165]in their Tribulation. Patience, it fans the holy fires of Love, throws perfumes into the flame, snuffs our Lamp, and makes it burn with a brighter clarity; like the Chymists Elixir, it turns all into incorrupti­ble Gold, the Touchstone by which God tries his people whether they be Gold or a baser Metal.

13. The warlike Inhabitants of Germany plunged their Male Chil­dren in the Rhene, to discover by their boldness in struggling with the waters, their Courage or Cowar­dise. Our Heavenly Father casts us on the Waters of Marah, wrin­kles the face of them with that tempestuous wind, Euroclydon, that troubled Paul, to see whether we would lighten our Ship of that Bag­gage Stuff she is freight with, whether we have courage to go on, or patience to endure, though we see neither Sun, nor Stars, for ma­ny days.

[Page 166]He that goeth to Golgotha, and seeth Martyrs and Malefactors sent to the immortality of another world, may easily make the diffe­rence, who suffers for demerit, and who for a good conscience. The one sings in his flames, the other howls; the one reproaches the Executioner, the other thanks him, and with that Proto-Martyr Stephen prays for him; the one, like a spent Meteor, stinks in his Socket, the other (like Aromatick Torches) perfumes the Air with odoriferous Evaporations, or a setting Sun that leaves an impression of Glory on the Neighbouring Clouds.

14. But to have heard the com­plaint of Hadrian sung in a sort tone, in a sadder Elegy; or to have seen the impatience of Herod, when wracked with an incurable Disease, but more distorted Con­science; or Julian the Apostate, full of horrour, and remediless de­spair; [Page 167]or Nero, when he crept in­to a Thicket of Reeds, for fear of dying more majorum. This sure (like Belshazzar's Hand-writing) would have made loose the Joynts of his Loins, and his Knees to smite one against another. But the Saints of God they smile upon death, and torture, and good rea­son have they. Mors non est obitus sed abitus: Death is their Goal-de­livery, gives them a Writ of Ease from all their Labours and Endu­rances; 'tis their Intrat to their Glories, and endless Beatitudes. S. Jerom saw but a little timidity in his Soul, some show of her un­willingness to leave her old Habita­tions, and presently he gives her the check; Egredere, quid times a­nima mea, egredere, &c.

15. We may with less reluctancy traverse this Alpian way, because much plained with the footings of those that have gone before. If [Page 168]Myriads of Saints marched in the van, and dared their Enemies to an Execution, shall it startle us to bring up the rear? No Victory without fighting, no Crown with­out Victory. We may be Specta­tors at the Olympick Games, carry a Crown to adorn anothers Tri­umph, but never wreath our own Brows, unless we get the Garland with striving. And who will not enter the Lists, when he is sure to carry away the prize? For God, with his Militia of Angels, attends the Combat, and enhaunceth the price of their Virtue, according to the vigorousness of the temptation they grapple with. If such had not their exemption from the ef­fects of an angry God, whom the Lord hath styled, A man after his own hearty, the signet of his right hand, the friend of God, his Hus­bandry, his Building (expressions of a strange endearedness) can [Page 169]we, that are but Shrubs and Bram­bles, think to have merited more of lenity than those Oaks of Bashan, those Cedars of Lebanon; those Co­lums of Piety and Godliness, that our services are of an higher strain than the Apostles and primitive Saints, and therefore he should lay his strokes the gentler on us.

16. Believe it, we have dipped our Sins in a far deeper Die, made them as red as Scarlet, rivalled the greatest Offender, and therefore our suffering can never make an ex­piatory Oblation. If God did per­petually flash his Lightnings, dart his Thunder-bolts, and knot his Rods (like the Whips of the Furies) with Serpents and Scorpions, yet the disproportion must be strangely great betwixt a finite suffering, and an infinite Majesty offended. 'Tis of singular advantage and encou­ragement to us in this War-fare, that Christ underwent the fame [Page 170]pressures, but ripened to a greater maturition: for he can tell (to a scruple) how much Freight we can take in, how many fathom of Water our Vessel draws; so that he will be sure to unlade us, if the Burthen be too weighty, throw in­to them some sweet Liquors, if the Waters taste too brackish.

L. 1 .It was a comfort to dying Lau­sus, that he received his death from the great Aeneas. It matters not how many stripes we receive, how deep the wound, how disconsolate the Soul, since it is a Saviour that af­flicts, who carries healing under his Wings: so much Blood and Sweat, so many Sighs and Sobs shall not become fruitless; but he will see tho Work of our Redem­ption perfected. We are wounded, but that good Samaritan will have compassion, bind up our Sores, and pour Oil and Spikenard on them, that can settle and compose [Page 171]a distempered and sadded Soul, and sparkle our Countenance, as if we were putting on the Royal Habili­ments in the morning of our Resur­rection: Dum dat verbera ostendit ubera. God never bruises us, but he hath a Plaister ready spread, pearled Cordials to fetch back a de­parting life. 'Tis said the Stork lets out the corrupt Blood of her young ones, and then acts the Chy­rurgeon's part, closing up the Wound with her Tongue. Thy Rod, and thy Staff, they comfort me; both like loving Correlates attend each other.

2. It is a very great advance to a Cure, when our fancy builds a be­lief, that the means and applicati­ons us'd by our Physician will be prevalent to a repelling the Disease; then we yield our Bodies wholly to his disposal, and never dispute whe­ther he will phlebotomize, or use strong Purgations; whether he [Page 172]scarrifies the wound, or makes an incision. God, who is omniscient, knows best how to deal with his Pa­tient. Emollient Medicines will not remove a Chronical Disease. 'Tis well if we can save the Body by cut­ting off one gangreen'd Joynt, by letting out a little discolored Blood, preserve the rest sanguine & sound.

Sure those Laws of the Romans (like Draco's) should have been writ in bloody Characters, where they invested the Parents with the power of life and death of their Wives and Children. Fulvius had not the denomination of cruel in do­ing execution upon his Son for con­federating with Catiline. And Titus Manlius was thought rather favou­rable, than a severe Justicer, when he went no higher than to make his Son Syllanus a perpetual exile.

3. This rigorous piece of Ju­stic, and unbiassed affection, built Trophies to their name, but no [Page 173]way improved the condition of the Patient; for it was Physick of a strange nature, a sublimate never ripened in Loves Limbeck. Our Hea­venly Father that fashioned us may impose what Laws his divine wis­dom thinketh best; but if he wounds his Servants, 'tis to heal them; if he takes away a temporary life, 'tis to hasten them to an eternal one.

Magni beneficii est indicium; When God seems to disfavour us, then are we in highest favour; and we make the nearest approaches to him, when in the eyes of the world we seem to be at the greatest di­stance. Holy David acknowledg­ed a Cure done upon him by an Heavenly Chastisement; It was good for me that I was afflicted. The Prison was the best School for Manasses; for in that, solitude he could have no Divertisement, but leisure wholly to contemplate his great Deliverer and figure to him­self [Page 174]Ideas of a more Glorious King­dom. Vexatio dabit intellectumi Punishment is Sins Looking-glass; there it beholds its ugliness and de­formity, the Stains and Morphews which make the Soul look squalid.

4. When Absolom was under a Cloud, and putting his Design­ment of a Rebellion into the Forge, to amass a greater strength, he sent an invitation to Joab to embark in the same design; but Joab (whe­ther in detestation of such unnatu­ralness, or unwilling to hoise Sail, till he saw to which point of the Compass the Wind would settle) rejected the Summons, Absolom sends again and again, and still Joab refuses; but when he gave command to burn his Corn-Fields, and ravage all that Neighbourhood to him, he made no dispute, but came apace. So in our prosperity we draw a partition betwixt God and us, will not cloud our thoughts [Page 175]with the contemplation of Judg­ment and another World, let his invitations be never so luscious, pre­sented by Prophets, Saints, and An­gels: but when he lays waste our Possessions, dismantles our Dwel­lings, throws us upon the Dunghil, then we look with averseness on out sins (the evil Spirits that raised this Tempest [...]) then do our visive Beams pierce through Heaven it self, and in this foul Weather seek to cast Anchorage in the Arms of our Sa­viour.

5. The Philosopher observes, that if we will see the Stars, and highest part of the Sphere, at Mid­day, we must descend to some Ca­vern, or low place in the Earth, where we are freest from the light, and coruscations of the Horizon we live in. So we must be remo­ved from the glaring lustre of the World before we can truly discern Heaven, and the radiancy of its [Page 176]Glory. The Figure and Global part of the Sun is clearer discerned in a Dish of Water, than in his Fiery Chariot. The Astronomers best posture is to lie prostrate on the Ground. When we are thrown on our Back, humbled and brought low, then we best behold God's Immensity, and our own impoten­cy. The Earth that hath endured the Summers Heat, and Winters cold, cut with the Plow, and crum­bled with the Harrow, is best cul­tivated to receive her Seed, and make a grateful return to her Benefactor. Some Fruits are best fermented with nipping Cold, and biting Frosts. Our stony Hearts are soonest ripened and mellowed by affliction.

After we have been thrust into the Forge of Persecution, we are then malleable, easiest to be ham­mered out. God sets his stamp, coins us for Glory, when melted in [Page 177]the Crusible of Adversity. Prospe­rity (like the Sun) doth too much harden us. Thunder scatters and disparkles ill boding exhalations, cleers the Air of all pestilent and malevolent humours: God thun­ders by affliction, breaks the racks of sin, and scatters those foul Me­teors that are engendring in the re­gions of our Souls. Spikenard, precious Ointment, and sweet Wa­ters savours more that the hand scatters and throws about, than when sealed up in their Inclosures of Crystal. Spices, for pounding and bruising, send forth exhalati­ons more redolent. How Sun­burnt, what Aethiops appear we, when blacked with sin? But as soon as God hath burnished (and like the Diamond) cut and point­ed us, we appear (like the King's Daughter) all glorious. Affliction is the Mercury Water that clears our sallow complexion: the best [Page 178]Beauty Spot we can put on.

7. Elkanah said to the Mother of Samuel, Am not I better to thee than ten sons? So it may be said, is not affliction better than a thousand pleasures? Here every vanity doth way-lay us, as Jael did Sisera, Turn thou in my Lord, till it smite us through the Temples. If we saw but this foul Body dissected, it would appear like a Mandrake Ap­ple, comly to the eye, but poiso­nous in taste; or like the glorious Tombs of our Ancestors, that, en­shrine nothing but dirt and putre­faction. 'Tis not all Comical we act; the Scene will presently change; like Jonas's Gourd, it springs up to day, and canopies us from the Sun's intrusions, but a­non an envious worm withers it. Pleasure was never so absolutely en­joyed, but that it had some Gall, some Worm wood thrown into the Cup. The smoothest face can­not [Page 179]laugh without contracting Wrinkles, and the extremity of it bedews our Cheeks with Tears. Like a Rainbow, it hath half Sun, and half Cloud. Like a Meteor it gives a glaring light, but portends mischief; fits us for Plagues and Pestilencies. If they were really good and profitable, they would improve those that enjoy them; but the contrary effect is most ap­parent.

8. When Nebuchadnezzar stalk­ed on the Roof of his stately Palace, and there beheld the Majesty of Ba­bylon, did he not then begin to wax proud, and vaunt the Workman­ship of his own Hands: Is not this great Babel which I have built? But when God had humbled him with Chastisement, plumed his Eagle Wings, then could he pierce through those Clouds and Vizards that inveloped his understanding, see more of his Maker from that [Page 180]lowness of Fortune, than when he towered on the Pinnacle of all his Glories. When David had his Beams displayed in a Royal Hori­zon, sitting on the House top, soon pryed into the Retirements of U­riah's Garden, and there fed his eyes with the unlawful love of Bath­sheba: but when Nathan the Pro­phet had trumpeted God's Judg­ments, and with a black Pencil drawn a Scheme of his succeeding miseries, it soon fetched him down from that height, and made him retire into himself, and appeal to the Chancery of Heaven for Mer­cy.

9. We have no reason then to be sadded, or cast down, if we see a­nother wear richer Robes, bespan­gled with brighter Glory; because the Merchandise he trafficks for, hath such a supervaluation, so strange an impost set upon it. He that sufficiently batteled in the plea­sures [Page 181]of a luxuriant life, bids us, Envy not at the glory of a sinner, for thou knowest not what shall be his end. O consider, what real and substantial sorrow they exchange for counterfeit pleasures; for fleet­ing vanity, an endless misery. If Dives in his life time had seen those pits of confusion, heard the shrietch­es and yellings of the damned, put his Finger in that scorching flame, been stretched upon the wrack but for one moment, he would have made his life more tragical, torn off his Purple and Fine Linnen, and put on a Pilgrim's Habit; would have fasted himself to a Skeleton, set Lazarus at his own Table, and sate himself at the Gate.

10. 'Tis not a Hell hereafter that excuses, but here a corroding conscience must center within them; that, like the Hand-wri­ting upon the Wall, imbitters their delicious fare, damps their Frolick­ings, [Page 182]puts them into shiverings and tremblings, though encircled with a Corone of Princes, finds them out in their Retirements, and in a croaking Mandrake Groan pro­nounces, their accounts must be ballanced, their pleasures audited, that there must be sorrow in its Achme, misery pulled up to an un­imagined height. It ends not here, but commonly they close up all with some sad Catastrophe. A Plebeian hath seldom any eminent part in a Tragedy, but mighty Princes, fond Lovers, warlike and haughty Heroes compose the Scenes. We cannot call that a fair day which hath a ruddy Morn, and bright Noon, if the Evening shuts up it self with adismal black­ness. Attend but the Exits of those wretched persons, see this Squib run to the end of the Rope, and it shall bespatter it self in pieces. Let us not pass a Judgment upon a [Page 183]Pomegranade by a fair out-side, de­note him happy that flutters in an opulent fortune; for their Jealou­sie and Fear ought to run parallel with their felicity. O, unhappy is our condition, if God thinks us not worthy to wrastle with mise­ries, to bear in our Bodies the Marks of our Lord Jesus.

11. The Destroyer must needs come in upon us, if the Scarlet Line hang not in the Window, or finds not blood sprinkled upon the Lintel and Side Ports. God's anger is screwed up to a strange pitch when he passeth by us with his Rod, when he will not so much as bran­dish his Sword at us. S. Austin saith, That an offender sometimes so exasperates his Maker, that he will not chastise him in this life. Their condition is very forlorn, whom the Lord leaves to a future punishment. How deadly will the blow be when God shall put fire to the Mine he [Page 184]hath been so long digging! How deep the Cup, how bitter the Potion that he hath been so long brewing! If many of the Saints of God, out of the Sence of their own unwor­thiness, have had strange Tituba­tions in the naming of that great and terrible day of the Lord, a day that the powers of Heaven shall be shaken, how much should an Im­penitent tremble & quake, when he considers that at this grand Assize the Lord will come with Fire, and with his Chariots like a Whirlwind to render his anger with fury, and his rebuke with Flames of Fire.

12. 'Tis now time that we re­move from the Waters of Babylon, take down our Harps from the Willows, and prepare to sing the Songs of Sion in a Glorious Land; wade out of this Valley of Tears, and get up unto Mount Nebo (Mo­ses glorious prospect) that we may see the Riches of the Celestial Jeru­salem; [Page 185]and yet we can view but an imperfect Landskip. For if the knowledge of all the Sages in the World concentred in one person, he could give but a blurred Copy, a dark Figure a faint resemblance of that extasied Glory, prepared for the Saints, and Servants of God. 'Twas the most desired wish of S. Austin, to have seen Rome when she was the Worlds Metropolis, heard S. Paul in the Pulpit, and seen our Saviour in the Flesh. But there he shall have his wish strangely super­lative, see a City whose Foundati­ons are garnished with all manner of precious Stones, where the Lord God Almighty, and the Lamb are the Temple of it, and in that Tem­ple hear S. Paul, and Myriads of Angels, tuning their Harps, and singing perpetual Hallelujahs to the Glorious Trinity; and, which transcends admiration, see the Lamb wear the same Dress, check­ered [Page 186]with the rich Robes of the De­ity.

13. There we shall have those Dotes Beatorum, which the School­men so much talk of, Visio, Dilectio, Fruitio in such perfection as no Line or Plummet wrought by na­tures hand can fathom their Abyss. When there is Summum bonum in summo gradu, it will be hard defi­ning how good, how great they are. Here we speculate and spell our Saviour in his Word, in his last Will and Testament. But there we shall behold the Word it self, Christ Jesus. God hid Moses in a Cleft of the Rock, and covered him with his Hand, while his Glo­ry passed by; he saw his Back parts only, in transitu.

But when the great day of exal­tation cometh, that the Lord ma­keth up his Jewels, he will take us out of the Clefts and Vaults of the Earth (the Cabinets where he [Page 187]treasures up his Dust) and set us on such elated Thrones, as Zacheus his little Stature shall be no hinder­ance to take a full view of the Bea­tifical Vision. We shall not look with admiration only, but with love and delight. Here our eyes are commonly bleared with envy, when they behold the Grandeur of another: but we shall rejoyce at the Saints Coronation, have not the least tincture of emulation if we see a bigger Crown, a brighter Glo­ry. Our love to Christ must needs be insuperable, which made us Co­heirs with him in Glory; that when one drop of his Blood had more of value than to make an adequatory Oblation for the sins of the whole World, he would set a running all the Sluces and Rivulets of his Body; nay, would have abated nothing of the whole series of his passion, if but for the laving of thy one in­dividual person. And if Christ so [Page 188]loved us in the flesh, espoused us when we were full of loathsome­ness and deformity, he will flame out with greater Fires, put us into his own Bosom, when the Refiner hath melted off our Dross, washed us with his Fullers Soap, when he seeth us mounted to the Zenith of our Glory.

15. Aeneas, though esteemed pious among the Heathens, never had a nearer access to Apollo's Tem­ple, than to the Threshold or Porch of it. The Israelites durst not touch the Borders of the Mount for fear of being stoned, or thrust through with a Dart. And the Jews entred not into the Sanctum Sanctorum, but the High Priests a­lone, and that once a year. Be­fore God spake unto Moses he pre­faced by Thunderings and Light­nings, and Mount Sinai, was alto­gether on a Smoak, and the whole Mount quaked, and the people [Page 189]trembled. But when we have our Materiality spiratualised, a Manu­mission from the corruption of the flesh, we shall corns unto Mount Sion, the City of the living God, and to innumerable Companies of Angels. The Planets, that have a predominancy over our Bodies, here sparkle only a borrowed lu­stre: these, we gaze on with great admiration: yet at the general con­flagration these Lamps shall be put out, as having too dark Rays to shine in the Horizon of Glory.

16. And if a Saint of the lowest order in Heaven shall flash out more refulgent Beams, than if all the scattered Stars and greater Lu­minaries were stuck in one Sphere, made one splendid Ball of Light, with what hallowed Fires shall we burn, when with the brighter Che­rubims, and many eyed Seraphims, we shall be set in one Carkanet, make up one glorious Constellati­on? [Page 190]How great our light, when like so many Heliotropia we shall sit sunning our selves in the presence of God himself? Hellen could never draw her eyes from beholding the beauty of Paris; and Dido was sick of the same Disease.

She would never be satiated with the gazing on the countenance of Princely Aeneas. But the Fire of their love was quickly put out, (like the fairest Flowers they may be withered with too much smelling to.) Age will dull the edge of a desireable Appetite, or in the height of their Enjoyments disaster or jealousie enrage it to a Phren­sie.

M. 1. Pandora's Box is open to every man. Here is no happiness whose Ligaments are not soon bro­ken, [Page 191]whose Compositum hath not some dross. We are never fanned with so smooth a Gale, but we are sometimes made to lower our Sails, some Hirrecans are raised to make a Ruffle. And if our Halcyon Days make up a few Climactericks, we are glutted, have a saturity of Enjoyment. But in Heaven we shall see God Paternaliter, with a desire and love still to behold him, and that without any anxiety, or the least decadency.

We have seen some persons that have had such a symetry of parts, such an air in their Countenances, such a plenitude of Perfections, that hath wrapped the Beholders into wonder and astonishment. If Corruption can put on such charm, how bright shall we shine, when quickened with Celestial Fire; though invested with the same flesh, yet spun to a finer Thread; though kneaded of the same A­toms, [Page 192]yet finer searsed, cast in a fairer mold: our Bodies shall be clarified into Soul-Matter, and our Souls flame out with the Fires of a Divinity. No less than an Apostle assures us, We shall be made partakers of the divine nature; be so rarified, so spiritualized, have (as the Schoolmen venture to call it) an Identification with God in the state of Bliss.

2. Here we have a Film, a Cata­ract in the eye, that Luminary, our understanding clouded with a Cimmerian Darkness; at best we see but in Aenigmate, darkly, or like things we behold in the Water, that appear with crooked and di­storted forms. But when that great Oculist of Heaven unseals the eyes of our understanding, shews us Magnalia Dei, those abstracted speculations, which are now inscru­table and past finding out, shall then be as plainly figured, as if writ with [Page 193]a Sun-beam, and we shall behold the inside of things with a clearer perspicuity, than we do now their outside or colours. There we shall understand why the sin of one man should be the sin of every man; why God would not cancel the Worlds Obligation without that in­estimable Blood of his dear Son, when he might have satisfied him­self with a meaner Sacrifice, or taken away the cause by denying the Tempter access into the Gar­den; shew how the world was made, whether by a fortuitous Concourse of Atoms, as our Secta­ries in Philosophy have it; how the earth hangs upon nothing; how Moses did all his wonders in Egypt; unriddle the Sacred Myste­ries of the Deity, and those inex­tricable knots of Divinity, which have unsheathed so many Swords, caused such Clashes and Disturban­ces, shall be all enodated, present­ed [Page 194]as in a Mirrour to our Under­standing.

3. Here we may stand on Tiptoe, look into the Elyzian Fields through the prospective of Faith, but we view them at a great distance, and commonly we have weak Beams, and an unsteddy hand, but there those faint means will become use­less: God will pull off his Mask, throw aside every Umbrella, and give us a patefaction of all his Glo­ry. When Mount Tabor sparkled with the Beauties of Christ's Trans­figuration, and the Apostles were shewed the gorgeous Apparel they should be decked with hereafter: no wonder if Peter desired there to fix their Tabernacles. If such a Stage as Mount Tabor can present a Scene so richly dressed, when a few Saints descend and traverse it; how illustrious will the sight be, when we see the Great Jehovah, and Myriads of Angels, pleno orbe, [Page 195]in their full Glory. We shall not only see these Transcendencies, but be that which admits of no emble­matizing, adapted, made congru­ous, and sympathetick with Ce­lestial Perfections.

4. Stars have their Malevolent A­spects, the brighter Luminaries their Spots, and the most splendid Dia­mond is not every where transpa­rent. But in Heaven there are no Er­rata's, the beatified Saints cannot contract the least stain. No unclean thing enters into those Holy Habi­tations, breath nothing but the sweets of love, have such a fulness of every delicious thing, that there can be no addition: for, if there could be any increment or decre­ment, then there were no perfection. Ibi vita sine morte, veritas sine errore, felicitas sine perturbatione, all things sublimated to the most extasied puri­ty, & that without any change, with­out any disturbance, no night but an endless day.

[Page 196]5. Things are best illustrated by their Contraries. The Northern Men, that are benighted for six Months together, salute the ap­proach of the Sun with a more exceeding joy, than they that face him every day. The Beauties of the Spring receive a better Wel­come after a stormy Winter. Rest will be most joyous to those who have undergone a troublesome Pil­grimage. The clarity of Heaven will appear more lucid to them that sate here in darkness. Take a Pri­soner out of a dark Dungeon, and set him before an unclouded Sun, and he shall not be able to make him a fixed Object. And what is the Radiancy of this Sun to the Son of God? This Spark to that glorious Diamond, this Daddock-wood, this Glow-worm to that Morning-Star? When God shall raise his Servants out of their Beds of Obscurity, remove [Page 197]them from the dark Chambers of the earth, and shew them the glit­tering Mansions above, they shall be like Cherubims, full of eyes, give and receive light, and nothing shall weaken, their improved Op­ticks, though millions of Suns shine in one Horizon in their Me­ridian of Glory. These Suns shall never exhale an ungrateful Cloud to obscure them, never be an inter­position to eclypse each others light; their joys shall not be leven­ed with the least sorrow. That clear Sky shall not contract the least spot, and which is more, time shall never wrinkle them.

6. 'Tis a conceit of the Poets, that in Elysium their Goblets were always full of Nectar and Ambrosia; and as they still drank, their Cups were replenished to an over-flow­ing. The Saints have better assu­rance for the Permanency of their Paradisian Bliss. Mutabimur in [Page 198]immutabilitatem: We shall be changed into an unchangeableness. Our Crowns shall continue the same splendor, our Robes the same Lillied Purity, our Palms the same Verdure and Fragrancy. Here we are in a continued fluxibility, have Springs and Palls, Summers and Winters, Droughts and Inunda­tions: But in our final Estate there is neither Efforescentia nec canescen­tia; no ebbing or flowing, no ex­tinguishing of that Vestal Fire; no falling of that Golden Leaf of end­less Glory. Because our time is here short, we cut it into shreds, reckon by Minutes, Hours and Days. But when we have once cast Anchor in the Ocean of Eter­nity, non est heri nec hesternum; there shall be no distinction of Days, no reckoning Lustres or O­lympiads, but have one perpetual Pentecost, a never ending Ju­bilee.

[Page 199]7. The Arithmeticians are so bold as to tell you, they can set down how many Corns of Dust make up the Globe of the Earth. They will go a strain beyond that, and say they can give a number to as many Grains, as shall fill the spa­cious Concavity betwixt this and the Firmament. The Mathema­ticians take the height and dimensi­on of the remotest Planet, put a Girdle about the Heaven it self. The Philosophers will tell you of what stuff the Stars and Spheres are made. It would not only pose Archimedes, but baffle the Angels themselves, to draw imaginary Lines about the highest Heaven, summ up the Calends of Eter­nity.

8. Here you have a Picture with a Janus Face; on the one side the Features shadowed with a black Coal, a blubber'd Face, dishelved Hairs; but he that makes a curious [Page 200]inspection shall find, though black, yet she's comly, discover a life in that sorrow, beauty in that care­lesness. On the other side, there are only some few Lines drawn to shew, that something more excellent should there be sha­dowed. Zeuxis being hopeless of pourtraicting a comly Venus, limn'd only the back parts, leaving the rest to fancy and imagination. At best, we can draw but in Water­colours those incomprehensible Glories. For if Paul, a Star of the first Magnitude, after he had been caught up into Heaven, and view­ed the splendid Equipage of that place, confessed that he saw things unexpressible, and heard things un­utterable, 'tis not for Dust and A­shes to bedribble with a rude Pen­cil such superexcellent perfections. But so much satisfaction we find as to discern a strange disparity be­twixt the service and the reward, [Page 201]affliction and Glory; the one so light and momentany, the other so weighty and e [...]nal, that it is but as a dust in the Ballance, an Atom to the Earth, a drop to the Ocean; the one a punctum, the other ad­mits not any Philosophical Com­mensurations.

9. Let us then, like wise Mer­chants, lay out for that rich Pearl of eternal life. There are (saith the Prophet) that buy much with a lit­tle. For taking up the Cross of Christ, enduring a few temporary outrages, we shall sit with him on his Throne, arrayed with a blaunch­ed Vesture. For if we suffer with him we shall also reign with him. Jacob served his Uncle Laban seven years for Rachel, and they seemed but as a few days, for the love he bare to her. If we desire the E­spousals of Eternity, we must cheerfully undergo a few Medicinal Corrections, feed upon Husks, since [Page 202]it brings us to the fatted Calf. It was an earnest of a strange affecti­on in Agrippina Occidar modò im­peret; I care not how they dispose of me, so that Nero reigns. But holy Job looked for a better return of his Imbitterments, when he took up that stout resolve, Though the Lord should kill me, yet will I trusl in him. And likewise S. Au­stin, Domine hîc ure, hî seca, ut in posterum sanes.

10. It matters not how soon we get upon this pale Horse, since he transmits us into Abraham's Bosom; though he sears us with an hot Iron heated in Nebuchadnezzar's Fur­nace, so he marks us for his; how soon he imbalms and conduits the Body in the Grave, so he serve it up for a refection at the Supper of the Lamb. If he unskrew the Wheels and Gimmers of this Build­ing, 'tis to give it (like a foul Watch) a new scowring. Though [Page 203]he cut down the Trunck, yet care shall be taken of the Root. We may dispense with a transplan­tation when he gathers us from Briars and Brambles, plucks us out of a barren soil to set us in a more fertile Land. Though our Flower sheds his Beauties, hangs down the Head, and dies, yet the Seed shall still be preserved; like China Earth, such stay in the Grave shall beget a transparency. Though he undress the Soul, throw the Body into the Valley of dry Bones, and there lodge it for thousands of years, yet they shall appear Tanquam somnus unius horae; but as the sleep of one hour. And though sent to that slate of Dormition, such names, as have not defiled their Garments, shall be registred in his Ephemeri­des, in such indeleble Characters, as no Index expurgatorius shall ever blot out; and in his good time he will visit the Sepulchres & Coemete­ries [Page 204]of those dead, recal the Souls from their Widdow-hood, put unctuous matter into every dry Bone, cloath them with Sinews and Flesh, and spread such a Covering of Skin upon them, as Moses's Face (when illustrated) would appear but as a darkening Veil; and all to meet our Redeemer in the Clouds, that he may in this lovely Dress usher us to unspeakable Glories, to Heaven, the Haven of our endless Rest and Happiness.