CHAP. I. The Truth of Religion proved from the Frame of our Nature.

THere is no better way to know how we ought to live, and to ſatisfie our ſelves in the Truth or Falſhood of this important Queſtion concerning the intrinſick Excellency of Religion, and its natural relation to us, than by conſidering what kind of Creatures we are, and the utmoſt capacities of our Nature. For if upon ſuch an enquiry it does appear, that there is nothing in us, that has a reſpect to, and does neceſſarily ſuppoſe the Being of ſuch a thing as Religion, we muſt allow the Atheiſt to be the wiſe Man, who rejects it as an unreaſonable impoſition; but if it does appear, that there is ſomething in us, that does naturally diſpoſe us for the practice of it as our buſineſs, and which without it no good account can be given of, nor any thing ſufficient for its happineſs, we have no reaſon to think that we are trick'd and cheated into the belief of Religion. For, according as we find we are framed, we are to take an account of our Duty; and that which the Make of our Nature, does make our Duty, muſt be more than a trick or a contrivance.

Now whoever conſiders himſelf, will find, that he has both the ſenſitive Powers of a Beaſt, and the ſpiritual Faculties of an Angel: I mean, that he is made up of a material, viſible part, by vertue of which he is under a neceſſity of burying himſelf in worldly Employments, and capable of the ſatisfactions that ariſe from the enjoyment of ſenſible Objects and bodily Pleaſures: And beſides, that there is ſomething in him that makes him more valuable than the Beaſts; and in reſpect of which, he looks upon them to be inferiour to him: And this part of us which we value our ſelves ſo much upon, is capable of being exerciſed upon other Objects, and of being employ'd to other purpoſes than our bodily Senſes are. For if it was not, it would not at all differ from our ſenſitive part, and then we ſhould have no reaſon to think better of our ſelves than of thoſe Creatures, that have as quick a perception of bodily pain and pleaſure as we have. But of all the Enemies of Religion, there are none but think they are in ſome reſpect capable of other kind of perceptions than Creatures of mere ſenſe are. And this Principle, by which we differ from them, does render us capable of thinking or conſidering what is beſt for us, of looking forward and backward, and debating with our ſelves upon the nature and ſeveral circumſtances of our own actions; whetuer ſuch or ſuch a thing be fit and proper to be done, or whether that which we have done be not to be corrected; and of checking and controuling our bodily inclinations and appetites, and of determining us to this or that courſe of actions, as they appear to be beſt for us.

And if this be the Frame of Humane Nature, as I doubt not but the greateſt friend to a ſenſitive life, does find it is; it is plain there muſt be ſuch a thing as Religion, becauſe ſuch a make does diſpoſe us to it; and without it, this manly Principle muſt not onely be uſeleſs, but a torment to us.

§ 1. It diſpoſes us for Religion, and capacitates us to make it our buſineſs and employment. For as that, which makes us value our ſelves at a higher rate than we do a beaſt, is a thinking, conſidering Principle, we find it enables us to apprehend ſuch Perfections as are not to be found in any created Beings, and of contemplating the Natures of things, that our Eyes never ſaw, nor our Ears ever heard. It is not onely in contemplating the Natures, and ſearching out the Properties, and diſcovering the Uſes that belong to the ſeveral Beings of this viſible World, that this Faculty is employ'd in; but it goes further, and is apprehenſive of ſuch Wiſdom, Power and Goodneſs as lies not within the compaſs of all that is viſible before us. It can paſs through all the Objects of Senſe, and go beyond all the Boundaries of Time, and conſider a Being, whoſe Nature is purely Spiritual, and whoſe Duration is Eternal: In a word, it can form an Idea, and apprehend the neceſſity of a Being, who is abſolutely perfect. Now that this Faculty is capable of being thus employed in contemplating the Nature and Perfections of an infinitely glorious and moſt tranſcendantly excellent Being, every Man, that will but make a trial of the power of it, may ſatisfie himſelf. For, when we conſider how different the Natures and Perfections of created Beings are; and that Man, who values himſelf as the moſt excellent Creature in this viſible World, does enjoy thoſe Perfections, in which his greater Excellency does conſiſt, in a very imperfect manner, what Difficulty can there be in apprehending a Being, that is not onely more excellent than Man, but that has all thoſe Perfections that Man is excellent for, and by which one Man is more Excellent than another in the moſt perfect manner? This the Atheiſt, as unwilling as he is to believe there is a God, is very ſenſible of. For he does not undertake to prove, that we have no ſuch Idea, nor are capable of any ſuch apprehenſions; he does not pretend, that he finds no ſuch power in himſelf, or that by the beſt uſe of his reaſon he cannot form any conceptions in his mind of a Being that is abſolutely perfect; but the arguments, he makes uſe of, to prove there is no ſuch Being, do ſuppoſe that we are apprehenſive of ſuch a Being. They pretend, that Education has laid this and all other Principles of Religion in our minds, and that the knowledge we have of inviſible Beings is thruſt upon us in our Childhood, as ſoon as we begin to have the leaſt uſe of Reaſon.

Now ſuppoſing this was true, yet it ſuppoſes that there is ſuch a faculty in us as is capable of diſcerning and receiving ſuch things, and which conſequently does exactly fit us for a life of Religion. For if there was not, how could Education train us up to ſuch a Knowledge any more than a Beaſt? How can we be taught to know and adore a Being, whoſe Perfections are infinite, any more than an Ox or an Aſs, if there be not ſomething in us, that qualifies us for ſuch a Knowledge as is not in them? All the teaching in the World would ſignifie nothing to us, if there was not a principle in us, that was capable of receiving an inſtruction of this nature. And now ſince there is ſuch a faculty in us as is capable of knowing an infinitely perfect Being, we have no reaſon to doubt whether there be ſuch a Being or no, any more than whether there be any viſible Objects in the World, ſince we have Eyes to ſee them. If it be ſaid that our Minds are capable of framing Idea's of things that are not. I grant it; but then when we do ſo, we are ſenſible that we do ſo, and of the manner how we do ſo: I mean, the Mind is aware that all ſuch fictitious and chimerical conceptions are Creatures of its own framing, and that there is ſomething in Nature out of which it does make them. The framing of them is indeed the work of the Underſtanding, but it belches its matter out of which it makes them from ſomething that has a real Exiſtence. For it is impoſſible for the Mind to frame an Idea out of nothing; or to be taught to know any thing, that never had a Being, nor any thing out of which it could be framed. And ſuch is our Idea of an infinitely perfect Being; we neither know that it is a Creature of our own Minds, nor is there any thing in this World out of which we can form ſuch a conception. We neither know when we form'd it, nor how; nor is there any Being that is perfect enough to furniſh us with Materials for it; but we find it highly agreeable to our Minds, when we come to the uſe of our Reaſons; nor is our greateſt negligence able to make us forget it, as it can all other acquired Knowledge. So that our having ſuch an Idea, does neceſſarily ſuppoſe a Being that is infinitely perfect; and the agreeableneſs of it to our Minds, does prove that the knowing him is the moſt proper work of our Underſtandings.

But beſides, by means of this faculty, we are capable of debating Matters in our own Minds, and adviſing with our ſelves what is beſt for us; we can take an account of the goodneſs or illneſs of our actions, and either approve and commend, or judge and condemn our ſelves for them. And this no Man can deny but we have a power to do, who does not think it a noble thing to be a Fool; or that to act raſhly and with precipitation, is very much for the glory and advantage of a Man. And why now are we thus made more than any other Creature? Why have we ſuch a Faculty given us, if it be not our buſineſs to live with more conſideration and diſcretion, with more prudence and fore-ſight than the Beaſts that have no underſtanding? What can we conclude from our having ſuch a power, leſs than that we are to reverence our own Minds, and to ſtand in awe of our Conſciences, and to dread doing any thing that is not for the honour of our Underſtandings? Since we are capable of conſulting with our ſelves what is good or ill for us, does it not imply that there is a way of living which is for our advantage, and which, if we neglect it, will turn to our great hurt? And ſince we can call our ſelves to an account for our actions, and paſs a judgment upon them, and cenſure them when they are not reaſonable, may we not with good reaſon believe, that there are a ſort of actions that are hurtfull to the Conſcience, and that there is a time, when we ſhall feel the miſchief of them, if we do not prevent it? However, the Enemies of Religion are pleas'd to make themſelves ſport with the name of Conſcience, and to repreſent it as a Scarecrow ſet up to fright weak Minds, and to laugh at a Judgment to come as a principle, that has no good Evidence in Nature; yet I doubt not, but they have a ſecret ſenſe both of the one and the other. For how come they to argue againſt ſuch a power, to fore-ſee what is good, and to cenſure what is ill, but by making that uſe of their Underſtanding, which they will not allow does belong to it? Is it not becauſe they have throughly examin'd their own Nature, and conſider'd what is agreeable to it, and what is not, and whether there be not ſome ſort of actions, that Reaſon condemns, and others that it approves? Do they not ſpeak their well-inform'd Judgment in the caſe, when they tell the World, that we are miſtaken in our belief of theſe Principles, and that we have no power of judging our ſelves at all? If they do not, they ſpeak at random, and are not fit to diſpute the truth of theſe things: But if they do, their very arguing againſt ſuch a power in us, ought to convince them that they are miſtaken. For they conſider and examine, and ſtate the matter in themſelves, and at laſt come to a judgment and reſolution concerning it. And what is all this, but to make that uſe of our Underſtandings, which they pretend we cannot do with a reſpect to our actions. And beſides, by this way of proceeding, they diſcover a ſecret ſenſe that Humane Nature is capable of, having a Judgment paſs upon it; which it could not be, if it was ſo framed, as to be capable of moving onely one way, and going on in one courſe of actions, as the Beaſts are: For it implies that we may abuſe the Faculties of our Nature, and employ them to ſuch Ends as deſerve to be cenſured.

But to proceed: It is not onely as we are capable of underſtanding the Principles of Religion, that we may conclude of its Truth and Reality, but from that power of determining in our ſelves, what courſe of life we will live, that belongs to our Nature. For by means of this Faculty it is very plain, that we are fitted for a life of Vertue, and not to go on in that one way, that our ſenſes do undertake to lead us, and no other; which is the way of living, that belongs to the Nature of a Beaſt. For ſince we have ſuch a Faculty as enables us to put reſtraints upon our bodily appetites, and to chuſe whether we will hearken to the Laws of our Members, how could we be better fitted for a Life of Religion? For to make this uſe of our Wills, is to live vertuouſly; and 'tis this uſe that Religion inſtructs us to make of them. So that if we make any uſe of this excellent Faculty of our Nature, it is impoſſible but we ſhould diſcover the ſuitableneſs of Religion to our Nature.

§ 2. And, 2. As the Faculties of our Nature do fit and diſpoſe us for Religion, ſo they are of no uſe to us without it. And if this be true, as it certainly is, it comes ſo very near us, that methinks we ſhould be very tender of Religion, leſt we bring the worſt kind of reproach upon our Nature. For it is a very vile thing to ſay of any Creature, that it is made for nothing, for, that is to ſay, it is good for nothing; and if we could believe there was ſuch a Creature in the World, it would be the vileſt thing in it. So that if that which makes us Men be really of no uſe at all to us, then we ſhall have little reaſon to value our ſelves for being Men; but a great deal to be aſham'd of our Nature. For then we muſt look upon our ſelves to be the moſt pitifull and worthleſs Creatures in the World; and to ſay that we are Men, would be to ſay that we are the burden and charge, and conſequently that we are the very refuſe and ſcorn of all other Creatures. And of what uſe would our Underſtandings and Wills be to us, if there was no Truth nor Vertue to entertain and exerciſe them. Take away Religion, and it is impoſſible to give a ſatisfactory account, why we are taught more than the Beaſts of the Earth, or made wiſer than the Fowls of Heaven. A Faculty that makes us capable of Knowledge, is certainly, in its own Nature, of more Worth and Excellency, than our ſenſitive Powers. And if there be a Service proper and ſuitable to the greatneſs of ſuch a Faculty, it muſt be ſomething that is above the capacity of our Senſes. Now what can this be leſs than the knowing God, and enquring out the Perfections of his Nature, the looking beyond all material Objects into a World where pure and ſpiritual Beings inhabit, which, as I have already ſhew'd, we are enabled to do by vertue of our knowing Faculty. Such a Faculty can never be ſuppoſed to belong to our Nature, onely to enable us to diſcern the Excellencies of ſenſible Objects, and to taſt the Pleaſures that are in a viſible World: For this we might do by the uſe of our Senſes, if we had no Underſtanding; and our having Underſtanding, would not qualifie us for it without our Senſes. So that to make uſe of our Underſtandings onely to diſcover the Glories of a viſible World, is to uſe them to no other purpoſes than we do our Eyes; i. e. to ſuch poor and ſorry purpoſes, as we do not at all ſtand in need of them for. For as to the pleaſing our Bodies with ſenſible Enjoyments, we are qualified well enough for that by thoſe bodily Powers, whoſe Office and Duty it is to delight us with them. And if we have no other Objects to exerciſe our Underſtanding upon, we might as well have been made without it; for we have no need of a Faculty that is ſuperiour to, and more excellent than our Senſes, onely to reap the Pleaſures that our Senſes do ſufficiently qualifie us for. For the Creatures, that have nothing but Senſe, can ſee the Light, and taſt their Meat and Drink with as much delight as we can, with all our Reaſon and Underſtanding. All the difference between us and them in this caſe is, That we can by the help of our Underſtanding dreſs our Meat with a little more Art, and ſhow more curioſity in preparing and cooking our Dainties, and inventing richer Drinks than they are forced to be contented with. But is this ſuch a uſe of our Underſtanding, as is ſufficient to ſave its Reputation, and to prove that it belongs to us for ſomething extraordinary, and that we have reaſon to glory in it? Is the Office of Catering for our Senſes, and being a Drudge for our Bodies ſo Noble and Honourable, that upon this account we may value our ſelves for having a Faculty, that we can thus Employ more than the Beaſts have? If this be the beſt uſe that we can put our Underſtanding to, we may was well believe we ſhould have bee as Honourable Creatures as we are, if we had had no ſuch Faculty; or that it is a very proper Employment for a Prince, when he is cloath'd with all the Enſigns of Royalty, to ſerve in the Kitchin or Stable of any of his Subjects.

If it be ſaid, that our Underſtanding is of conſiderable uſe to us, as it enables us to manage our affairs with wiſdom and diſcretion; and to acquaint our ſelves with the Natures and Properties of all other Beings. I grant that this is a very good uſe of ſo excellent a Faculty; but it is plain that this is not all that it is good for; and if it will ſerve us to higher purpoſes, as ſuppoſing there be a God, and all the Principles of Religion be true, it is certain it will, we muſt look upon it to be a very inſignificant Faculty to us if there be no ſuch thing as Religion; becauſe we cannot then make uſe of it to the beſt and higheſt Purpoſes, that it is capable of being ſerviceable to us in. To uſe it onely in the management of our Secular affairs, is to make it a ſlave to our bodily Intereſts. And this is ſuch a uſe, if it be all the uſe we can put it to, as does not make it appear to be a very creditable thing to be a Man; that it is either much for our honour or advantage that we are wiſer than the Beaſts. For all the difference then between a Man and a Beaſt is this, That they live with more ſimplicity, and leſs care than we do; and that we have a Faculty that contrives ways to vex and torment our life with a great deal of ſolicitude and anxiety, and with perpetual labour and toil. And wherein lies our advantage of having ſuch a Faculty, when we might eat and drink as much to the ſatisfaction of Nature, and live with leſs care and vexation without it? Or how is ſuch an Employment to its honour? Is it for the credit of ſo noble a Faculty to be ſent about the World to find out Entertainments for our Senſes, or to be commanded by an immoderate love of the World to contrive ways to advance our Fortunes? Do we honour our Underſtandings, when we hire them out to our Luſts, to bring in all the Satisfactions they crave with a little more Delicacy than Nature requires, and to find out ſuch ways of gratifying them as we could not do without it? Do we give reputation to our Minds, when we ſtudy how to make more plentifull and ſumptuous proviſions for our Bodies than a Beaſt can? We may indeed by the help of this Faculty contrive ways to improve our Eſtates, and to put our ſelves into an Honourable condition in the World: And it is not to be deny'd, but theſe are things that make a very glorious ſhow, and have gain'd the repute of great advantages. But where lies that wonderfull advantage, that our Reaſon is to us in theſe reſpects? Of what mighty Service are the Riches and Honours, that we ſo eagerly covet, to us, that we may be able from them to give a good account of our being endowed with Reaſon? Does not their utmoſt Service relate to this life? Does not their utmoſt uſe conſiſt in making us appear a little glorious, and enabling us to cloath our Bodies with gay Apparel, to feed 'em with Coſt, and to build our ſelves ſtately Houſes to dwell in? And is it not poſſible we ſhould live without this? Can we not maintain Life, and keep up the health and vigour of our Bodies, unleſs we fare ſumptuouſly, and be gorgeouſly clad? There is ſo little need of theſe things to theſe Ends, that I believe a great many might have lived longer, and with more health and comfort, had they either had fewer of the Honours or Riches of the World. For by being in a condition to gratifie our Luxury, we are in a condition to ſurfeit Nature, and to deſtroy our ſelves the ſooner. So that ſuch a uſe of our Underſtandings, as tends to put us into a condition, that may be ſo hurtfull to us, does not render ſuch a Faculty very accountable to us. And therefore Tully has made this wiſe Remark,Obb. l. 1. Si conſiderare volumus, quae ſit in naturâ Excellentia & Dignitas, &c. If we conſider what is the Excellency and Dignity of our Nature, we ſhall underſtand that it is a baſe thing to give way to Luxury, and to live with ſoftneſs and delicacy. And then ſurely Reaſon can be of no great uſe to us, if all the uſe we can make of it, is for a life, that is ſo much unworthy of us. Neither is the uſefulneſs of our Underſtanding much greater, by enabling us to know the Natures of things: For without Religion, this Knowledge is of no uſe at all to us, or onely of ſo much as it is ſerviceable to our preſent Intereſts. Now to know purely, for the ſake of knowing, without any further proſpect of good to us, is to be wiſe to no purpoſe; and to know onely that we may make our advantage of it in this life, does ſtill ſuppoſe, that our ſenſitive part is the moſt Excellent. And in either of theſe two caſes, we have no great reaſon to value our ſelves for having ſuch a Faculty; neither is there any thing below Religion, that can ſhow its true height and greatneſs.

And as our Underſtandings are of no great uſe to us without Religion, ſo our Wills are of much leſs. For if we take an account of the Nature and Power of our Wills; who can believe, that we carry ſuch a Faculty in our Nature, as is able to command and check, to controul and reſtrain our bodily inclinations and appetites, onely that we might chuſe to obey, and follow them with the more eaſe. If we were deſign'd to live according to the motions of our fleſhly Luſts, the inclinations of our ſerſitive Nature, and the Laws in our Members, what have we to do with a Faculty, that has power to withſtand them; a power, I ſay, that can forbid our Eyes to ſee, or Hands to execute the commands of our appetites, and put us out of the way of living, that we are deſign'd for? Surely we are the worſt contrived of any Creature for that courſe of life, which we are to take, if while we are intended for a Life of Senſe, we have a Faculty in us, that has a power to hinder us from proſecuting it. We have no need of ſuch a Faculty for the living as a Beaſt does; but a great deal of need to be without it: Becauſe they that are without it, do obey the Commands of Senſe much more freely and chearfully without it, than we poſſibly can with it. The very force and power of our ſenſitive Inclinations would be ſufficient for ſuch a life, if we had no will to chuſe it; and our having ſuch a Faculty, can contribute nothing either to the inclining us to, or to our taking any pleaſure in it. But on the contrary, when-ever the Will does incline to ſuch a life, it is by reaſon of a mighty force and violence that is put upon, and offer'd to it, by our bodily appetites, that deprives it of its freedom, and ſuffers it not to chuſe, as it is naturally inclin'd, or to perform its own Office; ſo that either our Wills do ſignifie nothing to us, or from that power of checking the ſenfitive Motions of our Nature, which it is endued with, we muſt conclude, That a Faculty of this nature is never well employ'd, but in keeping our Bodies under, and putting our fleſhly Appetites under the reſtraints of Temperance, Soberneſs, Chaſtity, and the like Vertues. Its power to controul our Appetites, and govern the Members of our Bodies, is of no uſe at all to us, if it be not our Duty to employ it in laying vertuous Habits in our Minds.

§ 3. But beſides, that the beſt Faculties of our Nature are of no uſe to us without Religion; I come in the third place to ſhew that they muſt be a torment to us without it. And in order to this, I ſhall do theſe two Things: 1 Conſider wherein the Happineſs of a Man does conſiſt. 2. Shew, That without Religion our beſt Faculties muſt be uneaſie and troubleſome to us.

Firſt then, for the ſupporting the Cauſe of Religion. Let us conſider wherein the Happineſs of a Man does conſiſt. Now Happineſs in general does denote ſatisfaction: For no kind of Being can be ſaid to be happy, ſo long as it is not at eaſe, and ſarisfied in it ſelf. And this ſatisfaction does ariſe from the Enjoyment of a ſuitable Object; ſo that no Creature can be at eaſe, and ſatisfied in it ſelf, if it wants any thing, that its Nature is capable of enjoying. Conſider the condition of Plants, whoſe onely End is to grow up to ſuch a ſtate of Maturity, wherein they diſplay their beauty, and yield the fruit they are deſign'd to give. Now, no Plant can do this, unleſs it be planted in a proper Soil, and enjoy ſo much of the influence of the Sun, as is needfull to draw forth its life and vertue; but for want of ſap and nouriſhment it will hanguiſh and decay. So likewiſe the Beaſts of the Earth, which are made for the enjoyment of ſenſible Objects, would be made in vain, if they had nothing to ſee, and to entertain their other Senſes with. The happineſs of a Beaſt is to have Meat and Drink enough; and to live among ſuch Objects, as are gratefull to his Senſes; and without theſe, his life would be miſerable. For as no Creature can be miſerable, ſo long as it enjoys all the good, that it is capable of; and there is no Faculty in its Nature, that does want the Object, that is proper for it; ſo there can be no full ſatisfaction, where there is a Faculty, and nothing to entertain it. Thus to have an Eye, and yet nothing to ſee; or to be doom'd to perpetual darkneſs, would be a torment. So that Happineſs is nothing elſe, but that reſt and acquieſcence that ariſes from the enjoyment of ſuitable Objects. And accordingly the Happineſs of Man does conſiſt in ſuch a ſatisfaction of all the Powers of our Nature, as ſprings from the true and natural uſe of them, and the enjoyment of all that good, that belongs to our Nature. For ſo long as any Faculty does want the good, that belongs to it, our Nature can no more be at eaſe than the hungry Man is, who wants the Bread his appetite craves. Every Faculty has its appetite; and ſo long as any one appetite does gnaw, there will be reſtleſsneſs and trouble.

But for the better explaining this matter, I ſhall conſider theſe three Things: 1. That the ſatisfaction we aim at muſt be for our whole Nature. 2. It muſt ariſe from the true and natural uſe of all our Faculties. 3. From the enjoyment of the good that is ſuitable to the Nature of each Faculty.

1. The ſatisfaction we aim at muſt be for our whole Nature. And therefore, before we can arrive to the full and compleat Happineſs, that we are capable of, we muſt underſtand our ſelves, and be acquainted with the utmoſt Excellency that belongs to us. For all Men do agree in this, That Happineſs does conſiſt in ſatisfaction; and that it is impoſſible that any Creature ſhould be happy, that is not at reſt and eaſe in it ſelf: And therefore what-ever courſe of life Men take to, they pretend to aim at that ſatisfaction, wherein Happineſs does conſiſt. There is no Man that lives viciouſly, and follows the inclination of his ſenſual Appetite, but will tell you, that it is for the ſtilling the Cravings of his Appetites, which render him uneaſie, that he lives as he does: That he finds it is impoſſible he ſhould be at eaſe and quiet in himſelf, unleſs he makes thoſe proviſions for his Fleſh, which are proper to lay the rage of his Appetites; and accordingly that it is onely in order to a happy life, that he hunts after ſenſual delights, and bodily gratifications. So that theſe Men do feel the truth of this, that ſo long as there is any Faculty in us that is not ſatisfied, we cannot be happy. And it muſt be confeſſed, that if he be not miſtaken in himſelf, and Man be no more excellent a Creature than his way of life repreſents him, he is as wiſe for himſelf as it is poſſible for a Man to be, and does purſue all the happineſs we are capable of. But if we be ſomething more than Fleſh and Blood, the ſatisfaction he aims at is not the compleat happineſs of a Man, becauſe it leaves the moſt conſiderable part of our Nature unſatisfied. So that while we onely take care of our Bodies, and ſtudy how to pleaſe our Senſes, and to ſtill the cravings of our Appetites, though this be ſatisfactory to us, yet it is onely the ſatisfaction that belongs to a Beaſt. For could a Beaſt ſpeak, it would tell us, that its utmoſt happineſs lies in the enjoying of every thing that the Body craves. And is this all the ſatisfaction that a Creature, that has a Soul to provide for, a Divine Mind to pleaſe, has to look after? No, ſince our Nature is ſo much more excellent than theirs, the happineſs, we muſt aim at, muſt be ſo too. Our proviſions muſt be for our Souls as well as our Bodies, for our Underſtandings as well as our Senſes, and our Conſciences as well as our Appetites. We may have the pleaſure and ſatisfaction that belongs to a Brute, when we pamper our Bodies, and keep not from our Eyes any good that they deſire; but after all this, our Wants will be greater than our Enjoyments, and our Miſery more than our Happineſs. For in this caſe we onely take care of half our Nature, and, which is worſe, of that which is leaſt worth our looking after.

2. The ſatisfaction we muſt aim at, muſt ariſe from the true and natural Uſe of all our Faculties. As it is impoſſible we ſhould be happy, ſo long as we neglect any part of our ſelves, ſo it is likewiſe, unleſs we employ the ſeveral Powers of our Nature a-right. It is as much againſt Nature to make uſe of an underſtanding Faculty in the ſervice of our Bodies onely, I mean in worldly or bodily Solicitudes, what we ſhall eat, and what we ſhall drink, or how we ſhall drive on our worldly Aims, as if a Man ſhould reſolve to hear with his Eyes. And hence it comes to paſs, that when Men make no other uſe of this Faculty than this comes to, after a life of many years ſpent in Thoughtfulneſs and anxious Solicitudes for the things that relate to their Bodies onely, they are as far at laſt from being happy, as they were at firſt. It is with Men in this caſe, as it is with Children, who think, if they were but at the top of ſuch a Hill, as lies at a good diſtance from them, they ſhould touch the Sun; and yet, when they come there, they are no nearer it than at firſt: And thus it would be, ſhould they go round the World. Thus Men that uſe their Underſtandings onely in worldly or ſenſual Projects believe, that in compaſſing ſuch a deſign, or enjoying ſuch a good, they ſhall compleat their happineſs; and yet when they have done it, they are as far from being ſatisfied as they were before: And this they continue to be when they have gone the whole Round of their Lives. Now the reaſon of this diſſatisfaction does lie in this, That they abuſe their own Minds, and do not make a right uſe of their Underſtandings. For it is not the bare uſing our Faculties will make us happy, but the uſing them to their own true and proper Ends. And it muſt needs give great diſtaſt, and be very diſſatisfactory factory to our Minds, to have its nobleſt Faculty employ'd in mean and ſordid Services, and not be permitted to diſcover its true and utmoſt uſefulneſs to us; to drudge for the Body, and not do its own proper work, and conſult its own good.

3. The ſatisfaction muſt ariſe from the enjoyment of that good as is ſuitalbe to the Nature of each Faculty. So the ſatisfaction of the Eye is from beholding the light and the beauty of thoſe Objects, which the Day diſcovers: And the thing, that is diſſatisfactory to this ſenſe, is Darkneſs, or the want of an Object to behold; or elſe ſuch an imperfect Light, as is not ſufficient for a clear perception. But yet that which is gratefull to the Eye, does give no ſatisfaction to the Ear; and the beſt Melody in the World, as much as it pleaſes the Ear, does not at all affect the Eye. So it is likewiſe with a reſpect to the higher Powers of our Souls. They have ſome good that does peculiarly belong to them, from the enjoyhment of which alone does ariſe their ſatisfactgion: And 'tis as prepoſterous a thing for a Man to think himſelf happy without it, as it is to gratifie the Eye without light. Men may boaſt of the mighty Pleaſures and wonderfull Satisfactions they meet with in a voluptuous ſenfual way of living; but what pleaſure can a Soul take in the delights of a Hog? How is it poſſible that the Mind of Man ſhould be ſatisfied with the glories of the World, which is the pleaſure of the Eye; or with thoſe gratefull Sounds, that are the delightes of the Ear; or with thoſe well-cook'd Dainties, that gratifie the Palate? The Mind and Soul of Man is no more made for theſe things, than the Eye is to rejoyce in the Melody of Sounds: But if we will as well ſatisfie them as our bodily Senſes, we muſt ſearch for delights, that are more accommmodated to their Nature. Who can think that his Underſtanding is given him for no other pleaſure than that, which his Eye or his Ear is ſufficient to him for? Or, that he has a Soul which a Beaſt wants, onely to taſt the Pleaſures of a Beaſt? Bodily Enjoyments are onely proper to ſatisfie our bodily Senſes; but the Happineſs of a Man does ſuppoſe that our Souls, as well as our Bodies, are poſſeſs'd of that good, that they can take pleaſure in. This then being the Nature of that Happineſs we are to aim at, I come,

2. To make it appear, That without Religion it is impoſſible our Nature ſhould be perfectly at eaſe, and fully ſatisfied. And this is very evident from what has been ſaid concerning the Nature of that ſatisfaction that our Happineſs conſiſts in. For if there be ſomething in us, that all the bodily Pleaſures and Enjoyments of this World cannot ſatisfie; there will, after all the care we can take to provide for our Fleſh, be ſomething in us that is diſſatisfied: And ſo long as there is any thing in us that is no ſatisfied, we muſt be troubled with ſuch gnawings as will not ſuffer us to be any more at eaſe, than if we had Eyes, and yet nothing to ſee. But beſides this, we have the tacit Confeſſion of the Enemies of Religion againſt themſelves. For while the ſatisfactiion they aim at reſpects onely the Body, they leave their Souls out of their care and conſideration. For no Man eats and drinks, or gratifies his Eyes and Ears for the eaſe and quiet of his Mind. They do not pretend to the ſatisfying their Minds, or delighting their Conſciences, by indulging to the Pleaſures of a ſenſual life. No, the Soul is ſo little concern'd in theſe things, and they are ſo ſenſible of the wrong and miſchief they do themſelves in this reſpect, that as ſoon as they reſolve upon ſuch a way of living, they, as it were, throw away their Souls, and tie up their Conſcience, that they may without diſturbance reap the ſatisfaction they aim at. They are forced to run away from themſelves, and to avoid all communications with their own hearts; and find a neceſſity of being ſtrangers at home, and of forbidding their own Minds to tell their diſſatisfactions. For ſhould they but ask their own Souls, what pleaſure they take in their Rioting and Exceſs; or what content their bodily Enjoyments give them; they would let 'em know that theſe are things that grieve and vex, that make 'em weak and languiſhing; and that expoſe them to Death and Miſery. They would complain of their hard fate of being compell'd to feed upon Husks and Traſh, and deprived of the pleaſure of their own proper Entertainments. And therefore every wicked Man is put upon hard ſhifts to avoid all interviews with his own Mind, leſt he ſhould be chid and upbraided for his brutiſhneſs in taking ſo little notice of hmſelf: Which is an argument of an inward ſenſe, that all is not right with him within; but that he carries thoſe diſſatisfactions in his breaſt, that if he ſhould once hearken to them, would damp all his mirth. For why ſhould he be afraid of meeting his own Conſcience, if he was not ſenſible he has done it a great deal of wrong? Why ſhould he avoid enquiring of his own Mind, whether his was of living be good for it, if he did not know beforehand it is not? He need not be ſuch a ſtranger to himſelf, or afraid of meeting with ſuch occaſions, as will turn his Eyes inward, and make him conſider what he has done, if he was really ſenſible, that he paid as much reverence to his Soul, as he ſhows fondneſs to his Body, and was as kind to the one as the other. So that if we appeal too the inward ſenſe of thoſe that neglect Religion, and live as if there was none; it is plain, that if there was really no ſuch thing, our beſt Faculties would torment us with perpetual diſſatisfactions. But I ſhall endeavour to give a more poſitive proof of this matter, by conſidering wherein the pleaſure and ſatisfaction of the two great Faculties of our Souls, our Underſtanding and Will, does conſiſt.

1. Our Underſtanding. Now every Man is very conſcious to himſelf, that there is ſomething in him, that is very inquiſitive and ſearching into the true Nntures of Thins; and that he is very deſirous to inform himſelf what good or ill does lie in thoſe things, that are before him, and what profit or diſadvantage he may reap from any thing he does. This then being ſo, it is plain that it is Wiſdom or Knowledge alone that can ſatisfie our Underſtanding. By which I mean ſuch an improvement of the Mind, as renders it capable of diſcerning Truth from Errour, and, as much as poſſible, of ſecuring us from thoſe miſtakes nad illuſions, that the darkneſs of our Minds is apt to betray us into. Or a Mind ſo well inſtructed in the Rules and Principles of Life, that it is at all times capable of judging rightyly of the goodneſs and excellency, or the illneſs and deformity of our Actions. This ſort of Knowledge is that which is called Practical, as the former is onely Speculative. It is ſuch a Knowledge, as has a reſpect to our Duty, and is to inform us how we are to live.

Now the true uſe of this Knowledge is either to deliberate before-hand, whether ſuch or ſuch an action be fit to be done; and ſo it is prudence; the Nature of which does conſiſt in this, That it ſuffers us not to be raſh and precipitate in our doings; but does conſult and adviſe upon the Nature of every action, what good there is in it, or whether it is for our profit and advantage or no. Or elſe its Office is to look back, and to try and examine the Nature of thoſe things we have done, whether they bear the ſtamp of Reaſon, and be ſquared by thoſe Rules of Life that God has given us. And when our Underſtandings are thus employ'd, they bear the name of Conſcience; whoſe peculiar Office and Duty it is to try, whether our Actions be good or ill, and either to accuſe and condemn, or to excuſe and juſtifie the doing of them. Theſe them being the ſeveral ſorts of Knowledge, that the Underſtanding is capable of, it is evident we muſt be more or leſs happy, as we have more or leſs of this Wiſdom and Knowledge, and that there is a poſſibility of ſatisfying this ſpiritual Appetite in all theſe reſpects; otherwiſe this Faculty will always be reſtleſs and uneaſie. And,

1. As to the Knowledge of Truth. Who knows not that this is very gratefull to the Mind, and that our Underſtanding can no more be at eaſe without it, than our Eyes are pleas'd with darkneſs? Ignorance was never lookt upon to be a lovely quality; nor did ever any Man make his boaſts of it, as if it was as noble an Endowment as Knowledge is. And beſides, Knowledge is ſo very agreeable to the Mind, that it never grows weary of it: It never creates any loathings and diſguſts, or gives a Man occaſion to repent himſelf of the time or pains he has laid out in acquiring it. And therefore the Wiſe Man recommended it to his Son as the moſt pleaſant thing he could labour for: My ſon, eat thou honey, becauſe it is good and the honey-comb, which is ſweet to thy taſt; ſo ſhall the knowledge of wiſdom, be to thy ſoul: i.e. It will be extremely pleaſant to thee as ſoon as thou relliſheſt it; but yet not like thoſe other ſatisfactions, that we ſeek for in the enjoyments of a lower nature, which, in a ſhort time, loſe their ſweetneſs: For when thou haſt found it, there ſhall be a reward, and thy expectation ſhall not be cut off, Prov. 24.14. i.e. It will never be irkſome to thee, and give thee any reaſon to wiſh thou hadſt laid thy time out better.

But yet though Knowledge be thus pleaſant to the Mind, yet is not every Degree of it equally ſatisfactory. Every Truth, let it be of what Nature it will, does give ſome kind of content: But yet there is no Truth below thoſe that Religion acquaints us with, ſo great and excellent as fully to ſet our Minds at reſt. All other diſcoveries, but what this makes to us, are but like the dawnings of the day; which though they pleaſe our ſenſes, yet chiefly pleaſe, becauſe they give us the hopes and proſpect of a more perfect light approaching. They do not ſatisfie, becauſe they are fully commenſurate to the largeneſs of our capacity; but becauſe they neceſſarily inferr the Being of a prime Truth, which alone is able to ſatisfie our deſirre of knowing. This muſt be ſupoſed, or elſe there will be an appetite in us, that nothing can ſatisfie; and where there is an unſatisfied appertite, ther muſt be uneaſineſs and diſquiet. An imperfect Knowledge is no more ſufficient to ſatisfie the Mind than an imperfect Light can the Eye. And how is it poſſible that we ſhould arrive at ſuch a perfection of Knowledge from the Contemplation of the Natures and Perfections. of Things as are bounded? Could we know all that is to be known concerning all dreated Beings; yet ſince all that is to be known concerning them does lie in a certain narrow compaſs, it could not ſatisfie the Mind, becauſe no Knowledge that has its bounds can. If a certain degree of Knowledge could ſet our Minds at reſt, why are we not ſatisfied with the firſt diſcoveries of any Truth? Why do we waſt our ſpirits, and wear away our ſtrength in driving our Thoughts further and further, as if there was really no end of knowing? Does not this growth of our deſire tell us, that either there is or ought to be a Knowledge that is infinite; I mean an infiniet Object, that will for ever employ our Thoughts, and exerciſe our Reaſon, and furniſh us with perpetual Matter for Contemplation; and that if there be not, there is not ſuch a height of Knowledge as will give our Minds full content? I know indeed that the ſeveral ſorts of Knowledge that are in the World do find us work enough; and were we to ſpend all our time in ſearching the depth of any one, we ſhould hardly ever come to the bottom of it. But then it is to be conſider'd, that this does not ariſe from the Nature of it, but the Imperfection of our own Underſtandings: It is not becauſe the Perfections they preſent us with have no end, but becauſe we want Light to diſcover them. So that this is ſo far from proving that there is Knowledge enough in the World without Religion to ſatisfie us, that it proves the quite contrary; That if there be no ſuch thing as Religion, our Underſtandings muſt neceſſarily be a perpetual Torment to us for want of ſomething to ſatisfie them. For all other Knowledge is either diſſatisfactory, becauſe it has its limits, or becauſe it is obſcure, and cannot eaſily be come at. If we cannot attain to the utmoſt Truth that it contains, our Ignorance will be our Reproach and Torment; but if we can, our Underſtanding will be diſſatisfied, becauſe it has nothing more to know, and muſt for ever afterwards be forced to lie idle. But now it is the peculiar Excellency of Religion, that it preſents us with the ſublimeſt Truths, ſets before us Perfections that are infiniet; and yet delivers them with that plainneſs, that its ſevereſt Enemies do not pretend, that its diſcoveries are either intricate or dark. And beſides, there is no other Knowledge, beſides that of Religion, that does immediately concern, or is of uſe to our Minds: But either it is of no uſe at all to us, or its uſefulneſs reaches no farther than the Intereſts of our Bodies. And what a Calamity muſt it be to our Mind, to know nothing that is for its own good? What a diſſatisfaction muſt it be to our Underſtandings, to ſearch and enquire after Truths that they can reap no profit by; and that all the Knowledge they can poſſibly can attain to, is no way ſerviceable to their own Intereſts? But, 2. As to that Practical Knowledge, which conſiſts in our being acquainted with thoſe Rules of Life, whereby we are to judge of what is good or ill ofr us, who does not feel the great benefit and advantage it is to us? What is it that Men do more value themſelves upon, and take greater pleaſure in, than in an Opinon of their own Prudence and Diſcretion? That they make uſe of Jubgment and Conſideration for the directing their ways; and by wiſely weighing before-hand the different circumſtances of Things, do take care to avoid that which is hurtfull to them. Every Man in his Employment does find a great deal of contentment in himſelf from ſuch a uſe of his Underſtanding; and as oft as by a carefull conſideration he prevents any damage to his affairs, he is extreamly pleas'd to think that he has not acted like a Fool. But, on the other hand, with what vexation do Men reflect upon their own folly, when by a careleſs over-ſight or a hearty raſh action they have prejudiced their affairs? Now what does all this ſerve for, but to ſatisfie us, that it is impoſſible that any thing but Wiſdom ſhould content the Under ſtanding of a Man. In this caſe the queſtion lies between Wiſdom and Folly: Whether it be as agreeable and ſatisfactory to our Minds to be deſtitute of the Art and Skill to manage our ſelves to our own infinite Advantage; or to be ſo wiſe as to know what is really beſt for us? Now it is plain, that in all the concerns of this life, no Man does reckon it any part of his felicity, that he knows not how to manage his Trade and Calling, his Affairs or Eſtate with diſcretion; but is forced, for want of Judgment, to venture at all, without ever conſulting what will be the iſſue of it. No Man does think that the fooliſh imprudent Man does enjoy the moſt ſatisfaction in his Mind, even upon the account of his folly: But every Man laments it as a misfortune, when he feels the Effects of it. And ſince then no Man is willing to run himſelf upon any inconvenience, if he can avoid it, it is a plain argument, that it is a very gratefull thing to the Mind to be capble of diſcerning between Good and Evil.

But then the Queſtion is, Whether there be no other Prudence but that which has a reſpect to this life? and whether this be ſufficient to ſatisfie our Minds? It is certain that the Underſtanding does find a great deal of pleaſure in being able to diſcover and prevent thoſe Temporal inconveniences, which would give us a great deal of trouble. But then this is onely ſuch a pleaſure as one friend takes in the proſperity and good fortune of another. It is upon the account of the intimacy that is between the Soul and the Body, that the Mind rejoyces at the ſucceſs of that advice and counſel whereby the condition of ſo near a friend is better'd. But where lies the great Good of all this to it ſelf? What is it the better for its own Prudence, if it be not prudent for it ſelf? Is it likely that its joy for the good ſtate it procures for the Body, ſhould over-weigh its diſſatisfaction for acting fooliſhly in its own concern? Or may it be imprudent for it ſelf, without any trouble, when every Man feels the Calamity of being indiſcreet in the management of thoſe affairs that reſpect the Body? If there be no Religion, then it can be under no Obligation to avoid any ſort of Actions, but as they croſs our Temporal Intereſts: And if ſo, there are no kind of Actions that are peculiarly gratefull to the Mind, and which the Reaſon of a Man can take pleaſure in, but as it finds the Body and its Intereſts benefited by it. And if every thing be reaſonable or unreaſonable, as it is either for the profit or hurt of our preſent concerns, Reaſon is of no uſe at all to the Mind; nor is it poſſible for it to do any good to it ſelf by all its Prudence; but Folly and Wiſdom muſt be equally gratefull to it. But if there be a ſort of Folly that the Mind is afflicted with, even when the Body receives no hurt by it, it muſt be becauſe there are ſome Actions ſo reaſonable in themſelves, and others ſo deform'd, that it cannot be well at eaſe, but by acting as adviſedly for it ſelf as it does for the Body. And what does all this import, but that there are ſuch Rules of Life, as having a peculiar reſpect to the good of the Soul, the Mind of Man cannot be ſatisfied in it ſelf, unleſs it be well skill'd in them? For it muſt aſſuredly be as ſenſible of its own good and harm, as it can be of that of the Body; and be as deeply affected with that Folly, which occaſions the doing any thing that is unreaſonable, as that which is attended with Tomporal inconveniences.

3. I proceed to that other ſort of Knowledge, that reſpects our Actions when done; and conſiſts in a ſerious re-viewing and examination of them, and a capacity to paſs a judgment upon the goodneſs or illneſs of 'em. And there is as much ſatisfaction accrues to our Mind from this capacity and skill, as from any other. I do not ſuppoſe, that it is any pleaſure to the Mind to take an account of thoſe things, which we have done with precipitation and folly; or to call thoſe Actions before it, which threaten a Man with vexation and trouble. But then the reaſon, why the Mind takes no pleaſure in ſuch a re-view, is not, becauſe this kind of Knowledge is not delightfull, but becauſe it is no delightfull thing to a Man to know that he has done fooliſhly. The diſquiet ariſes from the folly and indiſcretion, that we find in our doings, which were never believed to be ſatisfactory to the Mind; but not becauſe it is a grievous thing to make uſe of our Underſtandings to this purpoſe. For it is as gratefull a thing to the Mind to be thus employ'd, as it is to take a view of what is fit to be done, before we do it. And it is certain, that in all the concerns of this life, it is accounted a very happy thing to have the Art of looking forward and backward, and of taking an account how our affairs ſtand; what it is that contributes to our ſucceſs, or what is the cauſe of any miſcarriage in our affairs; that we may the better know how for the future to avoid the Rocks we have ſplit upon, or to compaſs our Aims in the like caſe. This is lookt upon to be a neceſſary means to thrive in the World; and Men generally account it a great weakneſs not to be able to give an account how Matters ſtand with them. Now this is a certain argument, that our Underſtandings are deſign'd for ſuch an employment; and that this conſciouſneſs of our own good or ill condition is a Knowledge the Mind cannot be ſatisfied without.

But without Religion it is impoſſible, that a Man ſhould have this ſatisfaction. For, take away Religion, and every Man is at liberty to do what he pleaſes; and if every things be lawfull to be done, nothing can offend a Man's Mind: And if no ſort of Action can give any offence to the Mind, it is in vain to pretend a conſciouſneſs in our ſelves at any time, that we have done ſomething that is not for our good. 'Tis true, were we no better than Brutes, we ſhould be capable of pleaſure and pain from the different Objects, that ſtrike upon our Senſes: But then we muſt bear the Evil that ſhould befall us, as the effect of our hard fortune; but ſhould have no reaſon to reflect upon our ſelves with anguiſh for contributing to our own misfortune, by our own errors and imprudence. So that either we muſt acknowledge, that we are capable of throwing our ſelves into ill circumſtances by doing fooliſhly, or of putting our ſelves into a good condition by acting prudently; or we muſt deny, that ever we either are or can be conſcious to our ſelves of having done any thing, that we ought to repent of, or rejoyce in: which is contrary to the common Senſe of Mankind. For to allow of ſuch a conſciouſneſs in our ſelves, and yet at the ſame time to ſay that all our Actions are in their own nature equally lawfull, is to maintain a contradiction in our own nature. For to be conſcious to our ſelves at any time, that we have done ſomething that is not good for us, does ſuppoſe that there are ſome ſort of Actions, that we ought to avoid: And to maintain that every thing is equally lawfull, is to ſay, that we can do nothing that is hurtfull to us, or that we ought to be carefull to avoid. And what is this but to ſay, that we ought not to do ſome things, becauſe they are miſchievous; and that we may do every thing, becauſe nothing is hurtfull to us?

This is an argument, that the Enemies of Religion are ſufficiently ſenſible of the force of. And therefore leſt it ſhould compell them to acknowledge, that there is ſuch a thing as Religion, they have no way left but to laugh Couſcience out of the World. So that though they are ſenſible, that our own folly is oftentimes an occaſion of many miſcarriages in our Temporal affacirs; yet they will not allow, that there is any Action ſo naturally Evil, as to give diſguſt to the Mind, by reaſon of its own deformity, but onely as it is attended with ſome Temporal inconvenience. To which I reply;

1. That this, as has been ſaid, does ſuppoſe the Mind to be the vileſt part of us: That it is onely to do the Office of a Slave to the Body, by taking care of its concerns. 2. This makes it impoſſible ever to avoid any of thoſe inconveniences that we complain of. For if nothing that we do be Evil in its own Nature, it is onely by mere accident, that ſome of our Actions are miſchievous to us. And if ſo, it is not poſſible to know when we are to do, or not to do any thing that we do; becauſe that which is fooliſhly done at one time upon the account of the miſchief it occaſions, may be wiſely done at another, becauſe to our advantage. Our experience may tell us what we ſhould not have done, when it is too late to help it; but it cannot ſatisfie us whether we ſhould never do the ſame thing again or no; becauſe it depends upon another trial whether the ſame Action will be attended with the ſame ill Conſequences. So that, 3. Let them ſay, Whether we be under an Obligation to avoid doing thoſe things, which we find to be to our detriment. If we be, let them ſatisfie us how we can do this, if there be no ſuch thing as Religion: For if there be noging that is in its own nature Evil, there is nothing that is in its own nature not fit to be done; nothing at which our Minds can take a diſtaſt before it has made a trial of it: And how then ſhall we know how to manage our ſelves ſo, that our Actions may not give us reaſon to complain of our ſelves? But if we be not, what ſignifies it to us, that we are afterwards conſcious to our ſelves of the Good we have done to, or of that Evil we have brought upon our ſelves? So that Conſcience, or that ſecret Senſe of the profit or diſadvantage our Actions are to our Temporal affairs, that they allow of, muſt needs be a great trouble and torment to us, if we cannot make any uſe of it to our future advantage. It will upbraid us with that folly, which we cannot poſſibly help for the future, if there be no ſuch thing as Religion; and ſerve for nothing but to afflict us with its own diſſatisfactions in being forced to bear the Wounds, that our imprudence gives it, without ever hoping to remedy it.

If then the being able to take an account of the goodneſs or ilneſs of our circumſtances be accounted an advantage in our Nature, as all Men are very ſenſible it is in reſpect of the affairs of this liſe, it is of abſolute neceſſity that Religion be really true, not onely for the making Conſcience uſefull to us, but for the preventing thoſe diſſatisfactions it would every moment lie expoſed to, by lying at the Mercy of our bodily Luſts, and by being obnoxious to the ill conſequences of our frequent follies. If it be a happy thing to know the true ſtate of our own condition, Religion is the moſt comfortable thing we can think of; and there connot a worſe thing befall us, than to have it proved beyond contradiction, that there is no ſuch thing as Religion. For Religion, by inſtructing us in the real differences between Vertue and Vice, does furniſh us with that Knowledge, as enables Conſcience to determine rightly concerning our ſtate, and to be a faithfull Monitor to, and certain Director of us in every difficult caſe.

And, 2. As our Underſtandings would labour under perpetual diſſatisfactions without Religion, ſo would our Wills. As all Men are ſenſible that they have ſomething in them that is not ſatisfied with any thing but Knowledge; ſo there is none but feels a Power within them, that can give Laws to their Senſes; and either permit or forbid our bodily Inclinations to bear rule in us; a power whereby he can either chuſe to do or not do any thing that he diſcovers to be either good or hurtfull to him. So that it is plain, that nothing below Vertue can give ſatisfaction to ſo excellent a Faculty.

By Vertue, I mean a firm Purpoſe in our ſelves to do nothing but what is good; or a determination of the Will to thoſe things, which, upon a ſtrict and thorough Enquiry, we find to be really beſt for us. So that Vertue is not a thing that lies at the mercy of any thing without us to deprive us of; neither is it a thing, that is not in our own power, but is ſeated in our very Souls; and is nothing elſe but the conſtant and unmoveable purpoſe of the Will to proſecute thoſe deſigns that are of real and great advantage to us. For, ſince our Wills are capable of obeying the Impulſes of our ſenſual Appetites, and yielding to the force of bodily Inclinations; or of following the Commands of Reaſon, we become either vertuous or vicious, as we yield either to the one or other of theſe. To hearken to the Temptations of the Fleſh, and to let our Appetites rule and govern our Wills, is to be vicious; becauſe, in this caſe, the Will is removed form the ſteadineſs of its purpoſe, and is compell'd to chuſe that which Reaſon cannot approve or allow to be the beſt for us. but we then ſhow the Vertue of our Minds, when our Wills do move as Reſon commands, and our Underſtandings direct. So that Vertue does ſuppoſe ſuch a firmneſs and reſolution of Mind, as is not to be groken by the ſtrongeſt On-ſets of our ſenſual Appetites: For he that wavers, and is carried away with every guſt of Temptation, who can neither prevail with himſelf to deny his Appetite, when any ſenſual Gratification offers it ſelf, or to withſtand the force of any bodily Inclination, is a Man of no more Vertue than he is of Reſolution. But then this ſteadineſs of our Reſolution muſt follow the Judgment, that Reaſon, after a moſt diligent enquiry, makes of the goodneſs of any Action. For, unleſs our Reſolution has a reſpect to that which we know is really good, it is ſo far from having any thing of Vertue in it, that it is a ſinfull Wilfulneſs, or an obſtinate bending our Spirits to ſuch a thing againſt all reaſon. So that every Man, that is firmly reſolved either to do or not to do a thing, which carries nothing of good or ill in it, nothing whereby the Conſcience can be either recreated or hurt, does not merit any thing of Praiſe for the Vertue of his Mind: For thoſe things, that have nothing of good nor ill in them, and can neither make our condition better nor worſe, are not matters of Vertue, but they may either be done or left undone without any damage to us. But that Reſolution of our Mind is our Vertue, which has a reſpect to ſome-thing that is really good and excellent, and tends to our great advantage and honour.

This then being the Nature of Vertue, either we muſt acknowledge that there is ſuch a thing as Religion; or we muſt deny, that there is a power of chuſing its own Actions in the Soul: For if there be no ſuch thing as Religion, there is nothing either good or ill for us to chuſe or refuſe. And if we be ſo framed as to have but one way of living before us, we muſt diſclaim a power of determining our ſelves to any other: For ſuch a power does ſuppoſe that we are framed for two different kinds of Actions; and that it behoves us to be very cautious how we determine our ſelves. It neceſiarily ſuppoſes that all things are not equally good for us, elſe it is to no purpoſe to have a power to refuſe any thing; but that we may chuſe amiſs, and thereby put our Souls into a very uneaſie condition. And therefore the Wiſe-man obſerves, That he that getteth wiſdom; i.e. who is well inſtructed in Religion, loveth his own ſoul; and he that keepeth underſtanding, ſhall find good, Prov. 19.8. i.e. This is the great advantage of Wiſdom and Vertue, that by it a Man does gain an Empire, and rule over himſelf: He gets his Heart into his own poſſeſſion, and becomes the Maſter of his bodily Affections and Luſts. And the that thus manages himſelf, does diſcover the trueſt friendſhip to his own Soul; for he beſt conſults its good and happineſs. And thus Epictetus conſiders the Will as an inſtrument either of good or ill to us,Arrian. in Epict. l. 1. c. 29. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . God has enacted this Law, That if we deſire any goo, we ſhould ask it of our ſelves: For, ſaith he, the Nature of Godd and Evil does lie in the diſpoſition of the Will. And again, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , &c. God has not given us this Faculty to enable us to bear all Events with an undaunted Mind onely; but, as a King and a Father, that nothing may exerciſe a Power and Authority over us, but that we may have a full Power over our ſelves. But what can ſuch a Power ſignifie to us, if we cannot chuſe amiſs, and nothing we can do can hurt us? Since then there is ſuch a Faculty in our Souls, either we muſt believe we are made for Religion, or to be a vexation to our ſelves. For, 1. It is onely Religion and Vertue can be the true and proper Employment of this Faculty. 2. Without it, it cannot maintain its freedom.

1. It is Vertue alone that is the true and proper Employment of ſuch a Faculty. For who can believe, that by obeying the Luſts of his Fleſh, and following the Inclinations of his ſenſual Appetites, he lives like a Being that has a power over his own Actions? Does any Man think, that he ſhows the power of his Will to chuſe Good, and refuſe Evil, who indifferently allows himſelf in the practice of any thing he has a mind to? Was Man deſign'd onely to live a ſenſual life, he would not have ſtood in need of ſuch a Faculty: For the very Propenſities of his bodily Appetites would have been ſufficient to ſuch a purpoſe. For what need can a ſenſitive Creature have either of Underſtanding or Will to ſee thoſe things that are pleaſing to the Eye, or to taſt thoſe things that are delightfull to the Palate. Whether we were capable of chuſing theſe things or no, our Eyes and other bodily Senſes are ſufficient for them. And there is. no Man that preferrs a ſenſual,, before a vertuous Life; but before he can take any tolerable kind of ſatisfaction in it, he finds himſelf under a neceſſity of offering Violence to his Wil, and forcing it to comply with his lower Inclination. So that if a Man was deſign'd as much for a ſenſual, as a vertuous Life, he would be the worſt fitted for it of any Creature; becauſe he carries a Faculty in him, whoſe Office it is to withſtand his ſenſitive Inclinations. The Beaſts have nothing in their Nature, that does controul their Senſes, or forbid their gratifying their Appetites to the full: But where-ever they find a full Paſture, they graze and fill their Bellies, without conſidering, whether they be guilty of a Treſpaſs or no, becauſe they have nothing but a want of Appetite to reſtrain them at any time. But Man is certainly very ill contrived for a life of Senſe, and the happineſs of a Beaſt; becauſe his Will, till it be wholly ſubdued, has a Power to forbid his Appetites from craving. Since then there is ſuch a Power in our Wills, to put our Appetites under reſtraints; and that Senſe cannot gain a Command over us, till it has gain'd the Maſtery over our Wills, and made them of no uſe at all to us; who can doubt but the happineſs of our Souls muſt ariſe from that Vertue, which conſiſts in giving Laws to our Bodies. For to be ſure their happineſs muſt ariſe from the true and natural uſe of their ſeveral Powers; neither is it poſſible they ſhould be in an eaſie ſtate, ſo long as any of their Powers are either uſeleſs to them or abuſed; any more than the Body can be in a healthfull, vigorous ſtate, ſo long as there is a dead Member belongs to it. When therefore we maintain firm and ſteady Purpoſes in our ſelves, to do nothing but what is for our good, notwithſtanding all the Temptations we have to the contrary, we muſt needs as much delight our Souls by employing their Faculties a-right, as we do our Bodies, when we make uſe of our Eyes to ſee, and our Ears to hear. And, on the other hand, it muſt be as grievous to the Soul to have the Authority of ſo Soveraign a Faculty deſpiſed, as it is an Affliction to the Body not to ſatisfie its Appetites at all. If Vertue and Vice be onely Names, the Power that the Will has to give Laws to our ſenſitive Appetites, if we make uſe of it, will give a great deal of trouble to us: But if we do not, how can it chuſe but be a great diſſatisfaction to the Soul to be troubled with a Faculty, that is of no real uſe to it. So that in either caſe, without Religion, we cannot enjoy that content and eaſe in our ſelves, which ſprings from the natural uſe of our Faculties. And eſpecially,

2. Since without Vertue we cannot maintain the freedom of our Wills. Tis true indeed, if there be no ſuch thing as Religion, we are at liberty to follow the moſt violent Inclinations of our Nature: But this is a Liberty, if we make uſe of it, that deprives the Will of its Soveraignty, and makes it an unreaſonable thing for this Faculty to interpoſe its Authority for the reſtraining us in any caſe. And accordingly it is the unhappy condition of every Man that lives by no other Laws but thoſe of his Members, and is under the power of his bodily Appetites, that he is never true to any good purpoſe; but having loſt the liberty of his Nature, he wills and chuſes, loves and deſires, hates and flies things onely as a preſent inclination commands him. And how is it poſſible that the Soul ſhould be in an eaſie, ſatisfied ſtate, when it is not ſuffer'd to move according to its own Will, but the Will and Pleaſure of a Luſt; nor to ſeek its own ſatisfaction, but is forced to ſerve the Will of a Tyrant? No, it is Vertue alone can be the delight of the Soul, becauſe it is that alone that ſets it at liberty, and maintains it in its own proper freedom. When a Man is bravely reſolved in himſelf, that no Luſt ſhall be his Maſter; that his bodily Appetites ſhall not crave beyone the Meaſures of Nature, nor his Senſe uſurp upon his Reaſon, and aſſume the office of judging what is good or bad for him; he aſſerts that Liberty, which is the delight of the Soul, and maintains that juſt Authority of his Will, which the Mind rejoyces in. This is ſo Eſſential to our happineſs, that even bad Men do inſiſt upon it as the reaſon why they live as they do. They complain, that it is a very hard caſe for a Man to be obliged to lay reſtraints upon the Appetites, that God has planted in his Nature, and to deny himſelf of the free uſe of any of his natural Powers. For to what purpoſe has he Eyes, ſay they, if he may not look upon gratefull Objects? or why I she made capable of taſting the Pleaſures of a feaſted Appetite, if he muſt put a knife to his Throat? Now although this implies a very unjuſt Charge againſt Religion, as if it did forbid us to give that ſatisfaction to our Appetites, which is reaſonable; yet it does grant that a Man cannot be happy, ſo long as any of the Powers of his Nature are in ſlavery.

To know then whether Vertue or Vice be moſt for our happineſs, we have nothing to do, but to conſider which does beſt maintain our freedom. Now the freedom, that the vicious Man pretends to, lies onely in his living a licentious courſe of life, as if he had no Reaſon nor Conſcience, no Faculty to conſider with, nor no Power to bridle his Appetites, but was as very a beaſt, as thoſe that graze in the Fields. And it is ſure, if we take away Religion, we have nothing to do either with our Reaſon or our Wills: But if we make uſe of them. they will vex us by not ſuffering us to humour the extravagancies of our Appetites: And if we do not, the ſlavery of our Wills will be our Torment. For it can no more be an eaſie thing for the Soul to ſee itſelf in bondage, or to hear Conſcience groaning under a heavy yoke; or to have no more benefit of its own Will, than if we had no power at all to live better, than it is to our Body to feel it ſelf loaden with Chains. Wicked Men, by breaking looſe from the reſtraints of Religion, do indeed ſet their Luſts at liberty: But when they have done this, what Authority do they leave their Wills? What is there in them for this Soveraign Faculty to command and controul? And if this be aLiberty that our Wills can take pleaſure in; if they can tamely bear the affront that is put upon them, when they are compell'd to ſerve divers Luſts; and taught, that their Authority is uſeleſs; and that they have nothing to do to hinder us from purſuing the Pleaſures of a ſenſual life, we may eſteem Religion as mere a Trifle as our Luſts would perſuade us it is. But if nothing of this nature can be ſatisfactory to a Faculty, that was deſigned for Rule and Dominion in us, we need do no more than look within our ſelves to know both the Neceſſity and Reality of Religion. For ſince it cannot be well with us without it, we have very good reaſon to believe it is naturally ſuitable to our Minds.

CHAP. II. From the Neceſſity of Religion, to the Well-being of the World.

THE Appetite to Society, that is planted in us, does procure us ſo much good, and furniſh us with ſo many advantages, that there is no People ſo barbarous, but are ſenſible of the uſefulneſs and benefit of Neighbourhood. 'Tis by the helps of Society, that we, with the more eaſe, drive on our Secular Aims; 'Tis by Commerce and Traffick that we partake of the Products of the whole Earth, and People, at the greateſt diſtance, are mutually helpfull and beneficial to each other: 'Tis by Converſation that we make each other's Lives comfortable and pleaſant; and communicate thoſe Improvements, which we daily find to be of extraordinary uſe to us. And upon this account it is, that we go into Communities, and eſtabliſh Governments, and by mutual Leagues and Alliances do endeavour to ſetch the Succours we want from the furtheſt parts of the Earth. Since then Communion and Fellowſhip are both ſo agreeable to our Nature, and of ſuch advantage to us; nothing can ſurely be very gratefull to us, that tends to deprive us of the benefit of Society, by diſſolving them, and forcing us, like wild Beaſts, to ſeek for ſolitary Caves in Deſarts and unfrequented Wilderneſſes. So much as our Nature is an Enemy to Loneſomeneſs, ſo much does it teach us to abhorr every thing that threatens us with it; and incline us to favour that which contributes to the peace and proſperity, the ſtability and durableneſs of Society. For either there muſt be ſome way and means to knit and unite the ſeveral Members of a Society together, or it is to no purpoſe to enter into it at all. What advantage will it be to live in a City, if we have no aſſurance that the Multitude we live among are not as much at liberty to do us a miſchief, as to do us good? Or what profit ſhall we reap from a nearneſs of habitation, if he who is my Neighbour is thereby furniſhed with a fair opportunity to cut my Throat? To have an appetite to Society, and yet to have no way to make our living together uſefull, is to ſuppoſe, that we are made for miſery; I mean, either to be tormented by an Appetite, which it is dangerous to ſatisfie; or to expoſe our ſelves to innumerable hazards by ſaitsfying it. And without Religion, this is the caſe of all Mankind. We are prompted form within to wiſh and ſeek for the Neighbourhood of thoſe of our own Blood; but at the ſame time we deſire to live by ſuch as are under no obligation to be helpfull to us, nor any reſtraint not to wrong or injure us, if there be no Religion. This all States and Societies of Men are ſo well aware of, that for the preſerving the peace and welfare of every particular Member, and to prevent a diſſolution of the whole, they find it needfull to unite their ſeveral Intereſts into one publick Good; and by Laws and Rules of living, to make their aſſociating together uſefull to them. And 'tis by this means, that the Enemies of Religion do ſuppoſe that all the Good we expect from Religion, is ſufficiently provided for; and all the miſchief prevented, which we believe would come upon us by the want of Religion. Now for the ſake of Religion, I ſhall obſerve, 1. That theſe perſons, while they declare againſt Religion, are forced to have a recourſe to ſomething in the lieu of it, for the preventing that coufuſion, that would break in upon the World. 2. That what they have a recourſe to, is not ſufficient without Religion. 3. Theat it is very unjuſt and unreaſonable. 4. That it is Religion alone that does ſufficiently provide for the Well-being of the World.

1. That theſe perſons, while they declare againſt Religion, are forced to have a recourſe to ſomething in the lieu of it, for the preventing that confuſion, that would otherwiſe break in upon the World. For why do they not decry all kind of Government as an unjuſt Uſurpation upon the Liberties of Mankind? Why do they not condemn thoſe Laws that reſtrain the Violences of humane Paſſions, and the exorbitancies of unſatisfied Appetites? Why do they not, when they have ſet Man at liberty from the Laws of Religion, the Terrors of Conſcience, and the Dread of a God, plead likewiſe for his freedom from humane Impoſitions, and teach him to defie the Authority of all Secular Powers; and endeavour to perſuade the World, that Priſons and Puniſhments are the Inventions of Tyrants, and the Marks of our Slavery? This, I am ſure, they ought to do, if Religion be ſo great a Cheat as they would pretend. They ought to carry on the diſcovery a little further, and prove that it is as much an Encroachment upon that Liberty, that belongs to our Nature, to be controul'd by the Laws of a man, as of a God; and that one Man has as much right to tear and devour another, as any Beaſt of prey has to live upon his ſpoil. If we muſt take it as a mark of their kindneſs to us, that they are for ſetting us at liberty from the bondage of Religion, why don't they extend their generoſity, and exclaim as zealouſly againſt the reſtraints of humane Laws; and tell the Governours of the World, that they are to blame in ſending Thieves and Murderers to the Gallows or Gibbet? For what benefit has the World by their wonderfull diſcovery, if when we have learnt to deſpiſe the Notion of a God, we muſt ſtill be kept in awe by the Authority of a Prince; and after we have ſhaken off the fear of a Hell, muſt ſtill be afraid of doing thoſe things, that Religion condemns, for fear of the Sentence of a Secular Judge. Their great Wiſdom has ſo little mended our condition, if we gain no more liberty by our Infidelity than we had before, that, for ought I can ſee, a Man may every whit as well believe there is a God, and dread his wrath as not: For by allowing of Laws and Government, they grant there are ſome kind of Actions not fit to be tolerated; and that there are ſuch Paſſions in our Nature, as will not ſuffer us to enjoy the benefits of Society, unleſs they be chain'd up. So that while they ſet themſelves againſt Religion, they confeſs it cannot be well with the World, if we do not live as Religion requires; and take care to puniſh thoſe Enormities that Religion threatens with everlaſting Burnings. They would perſude us, that there is no God to puniſh us, nor no Hell to torment us in; but yet they tell us, we muſt be true and juſt, faithfull and honeſt, kind and good natur'd; and that the rage of our Paſſions, and the violence of our Actions, do deſerve to be puniſh'd: That it is not equally good for the World, that Men ſhould employ their Wit and Underſtanding to defraud and cheat, or their Wills to oppreſs and do wrong, as to conſult each other's good, and to do Acts of kindneſs and humanity: But that ſince there is no Religion to direct us, nor Conſcience to keep us in awe, we muſt provide for our own peace and happineſs as well as we can, by eſtabliſhing ſuch Rules as it ſhall be dangerous for any Man to tranſgreſs. And what leſs does this imply, but that Religion is ſo beneficial to Mankind, that it is a thouſand pities but its Principles were really true; and that it is very convenient, that the World ſhould be under thoſe reſtraints it lays upon us? So that the Atheiſt gets nothing at all by denying the Truth of Religion; but while he labours to free Men from thoſe Terrors which it does awe our Minds with, does find it neceſſary to lay them on again, by ſubjecting thoſe that live otherwiſe than Religion requires to the vengeance of a humane Authority. But to how little purpoſe, will appear, if we conſider,

2. That what they have a recourſe to, is not ſufficient without Religion. For by endeavouring to free Men's minds from the Terrors of Religion, they deſtroy thoſe internal Obligations of Conſcience, which are of more force to withſtand the confuſions and miſchiefs they are afraid of, than all the Laws and Puniſhments that the Wit of Man can invent. For let but Conſcience bear rule within, and it will not onely tie men's Hands from doing wrong, and their Tongues from ſpeaking falſely; but their Thoughts from contriving, and their Hearts from conceiving them. Let it but have a power of flaſhing Eternal ſtames in their faces, and it will not leave Men ſo much as the Will to do any thing that tends to diſcompoſe the World. This is ſo viſible a Truth, that it is very ſtrange the Atheiſt is not ſenſible of his own folly in undermining a Principle that is ſo much for his intereſt; and the contradiction he puts the World upon, in maintaining a neceſſity, That we ſhould live as if there was ſuch a thing as Conſcience, and yet at the ſame time believe there is none. For if it be neceſſary to walk honeſtly, and to do juſtice; to ſilence our paſſions, and correct our humours; to converſe with affability and courteſie, and to make ſociety good and uſefull, by doing all the good that is in our power to each other; what more could we be obliged to, if he allow'd as much Conſcience among Men as Religion commands? But ſince he is an enemy to Conſcience, he ought not to preſs Men with a neceſſity of any of thoſe Vertues, that Religion does; but how convenient ſoever he finds it for the World to have them eſtabliſh'd, he can in reaſon blame no-body but himſelf, if they be not, becauſe he has left it to the choice of Men whether they will or no. But when this is done, will he ſay it is ſufficient without Conſcience to put the World into a quiet ſtate, and to ſecure to us all the advantages of Society? Since he is ſenſible of the inconvenience of leaving Mankind to an unreſtrain'd Liberty, is the Dread of a Civil Magiſtrate as good a Reſtraint as that of a God? Or will the Fears of a Secular Tribunal do as much to keep the World in peace, as Conſcience? Surely it is not wiſely done, when they grant a neceſſity of thoſe Duties, that Religion puts upon us, to laugh thoſe Terrors out of the Minds of Men, wherewith Religion perſuades us; unleſs they can ſet up ſome-thing in its room, that is as ſufficient to this purpoſe as Religion is. If there be any thing that can ſerve our turn as well, it muſt have the ſame power as Religion has, and be as unchangeable as it is, and take as ſevere a cognizance of us as that does.

But now nothing of this nature can be ſaid of any Civil Government: For let them be never ſo well contrived and eſtabliſh'd at the firſt, ſince they are in the hands of Men, Time and Humane Paſſions may corrupt them. And then, that Power which is deſign'd to be for the puniſhment of Evil-doers, and for the praiſe of them that do well, may, on the contrary, countenance Vice, and diſcourage Vertue. Or if nothing of this nature happen, it may be too weak or too remiſs; and either for want of power, or a due uſe of it, ſuffer ſuch villainies and diſorders as threaten Society with a diſſolution. In either of theſe two caſes the World would ſoon feel the want of Religion; and the Atheiſt himſelf, I doubt not, would begin to think it as needfull to the World, as he believes it requiſite, that Juſtice and Honeſty, Uprightneſs and Integrity ſhould be maintain'd.

But let us go one ſtep farther, and put the caſe that it be our good hap to live under a Government, that both can and will puniſh the Inſolencies of Men; that has both power to correct the greateſt Offenders, and is carefull to adminiſter Juſtice; yet there are two Caſes at leaſt in which the beſt Government of the World is not ſufficient, without Religion, to ſecure us from wrong. The Firſt is, when it is done with ſecrecy; and the Second is, when the puniſhment that is incurr'd is deſpiſed.

As to the Firſt, it is plain that no Government can defend us from thoſe Villainies, that it can take no cognizance of; nor can any humane Law puniſh a Crime, that it cannot diſcover. So that a Man may all the days of his life harbour an inveterate ſpight and malice in his Breaſt without fear: He may hatch and contrive what miſchief he pleaſe in his own Heart; and if an opportunity to commit it with ſecrecy does offer it ſelf, he may do it without any kind of reluctancy or horror. And how little certainty ſhould we then have either of our Lives or our Fortunes? It would never be ſafe for us to be alone, and our Lives would lie at the Mercy of every one we meet with, if he had but a proſpect of ſome advantage, and a probability of making his eſcape.

And as to the Second Caſe, it is very viſible our condition would be much worſe. For it is impoſſible that the moſt rigorous Government ſhould ſecure us from the wickedneſs of thoſe deſperate Men, who will not be awed by a Gallows, any more than they are by a Hell. If a Man be reſolved that no Law ſhall reſtrain him from proſecuting his own advantage, and at the ſame time he accounts every thing juſt and lawfull that is for his intereſt; what Law or Proclamation can protect us from the Villainies of ſuch a Man? The utmoſt that the Magiſtrate can inflict, is Death; and if that be deſpiſed, what ſignifies his Power and Authority? And beſides, it is much to be doubted, that this would be the general Temper of Mankind, if there really was no Religion; ſince we ſee that thoſe wretched Miſcreants, that have once learnt to deſpiſe a Judgment to come, do as eaſily over-come the fears of Death, and preſently learn to contemn the penalties of humane Laws. So that Magiſtrates are beholding to that ſenſe of Religion, that is upon the Minds of Men, that their Authority is at all reverenced, and their Laws regarded: And the Enmity of the Atheiſt thereto is much more miſchievous than they are aware of. For they thereby make that Civil power, which they would have ſupported, fruitleſs and ineffectual; and give that liberty to the Paſſions and Appetites of Men, which no Laws can reſtrain. And indeed,

3. It is not juſt or reaſonable to attempt it. For put the caſe, that the Atheiſt was in the right: as ſoon as we are perſuaded of this, we muſt alter our Opinions both conerning our own Nature, and the End we are to aim at, and the Means whereby we are to compaſs it. For then we muſt conſider our ſelves onely as Beings that carry a mortal life about with us, and whoſe great End is to take care of our Bodies, and to make this preſent life as eaſie and gratefull to us as we can. This, I ſay, muſt needs be the great buſineſs and employment of our Lives, becauſe there is nothing in this viſible World but what has a reſpect to our Bodies, and is for the ſervice of this life. And if this be all the End that we are to have in our view, the onely uſe of that prudence and diſcretion that belongs to us, muſt be to find out the beſt and ſpeedieſt ways for the ſerving our Aims. So that what-ever we ſhall judge a fit means for the bettering our preſent condition, and the raiſing our fortunes, will be a neceſſary Duty; and what-ever does any way thwart our Deſigns, or hinder us from attaining our End, muſt be a ſin in us if we do it. And if this be ſo, we muſt likewiſe change the names of things, and call Vertue vice, and Vice vertue. For there is no doubt but Fraud and Falſehood, Cheating and Cozenage, Violence and Oppreſſion, Wrong and Robbery, are very ſpeedy and effectual means to get into an Eſtate, and to deliver our Bodies from preſure and want: And that honeſt Labour and Induſtry, Integrity and Uprightneſs, Truth and Faithfulneſs, do oftentimes hardly furniſh the vertuous and good Man with the bare Neceſſaries of this life. So that we muſt account the doing Juſtice and loving Mercy, the walking Honeſtly, and ſpeaking the Truth from our Hearts, to be the worſt of Crimes; and that he who lives by theſe Rules, does make a very ill uſe of his Underſtanding. But that he who has the beſt knack at Cheating, and can with the beſt grace abuſe an Oath, to perſuade his Neighbour to believe a Lye, does nothing but what becomes a vertuous and a wiſe Man. For ſince we muſt value the Means according to the Tendency they have to promote the End we aim at, we are mightily miſtaken in the Nature of Things, if we think thoſe ſlowpaced ways of thriving, which Juſtice and Honeſty oblige us to take, are Verthes; or that thoſe quicker ways of Theft and Robbery, and the like, are Vices; if all we have to do be to take care that our Bodies be well provided for; neither ought the practice of theſe things be made dangerous to us: For no Man ought to be diſcouraged from doing his Duty, nor run any hazard in proſecuting his true End by the beſt and moſt likely Means. So that all thoſe laws that reſtrain from the doing of theſe things, and make it Death either to Murder or Steal, when the ſatisfaction of our Appetites or Paſſions do diſpoſe us to either, would be unjuſt, becauſe they oblige us to ſin againſt our ſelves, and ſuffer us not to do our ſelves that good, which we always ought to have in our Eye. Government then would be altogether uſeleſs as to thoſe Ends for which the Atheiſt does ſuppoſe it to be neceſſary: Neither ought we to look upon it as a wiſe contrivance for the preſerving our Rights, and fecuring to us the Benefits of Society; but to account it the moſt wicked invention that ever was, if it does not protect the doers of wrong and miſchief, and puniſh thoſe that complain of it. And this, one would think, the Atheiſt, when he quarrels with Religion, for laying reſtraints upon our Appetites, aim'd at: For, according to his Principle, our Appetites ought to be allow'd their full ſwing; and whatever does any way give a check to them, ought to be condemned as much as he does Religion. So that the making the Gallows the reward of Theft, does deſerve as ſevere a Cenſure, as he paſſes upon Religion for threatning it with Eternal flames. For this is to abridge us of our natural Liberty, which is as great a Cruelty in Government, as it can be pretended Unnatural in Religion. If then this Principle will permit of any Government at all, it muſt be for the encouragement of Rage and Fury as the moſt manly Vertues, and the higheſt Madneſs and Extravagancies as the beſt Wiſdom: It muſt be for the protecting and cheriſhing us, when we act moſt like Bears and Tygers, and the giving us the greater ſcope to prey upon and devour each other.

This would be the conſequence of the want of Religion. And what a dreadfull Creature would Man be, if every thing ſhould be a Duty which does conduce to the gratifying his Luſts; and a reſtraint from Perjury and Villainy, was to oblige him to ſin againſt himſelf? And what a frightfull place ſhould we have of this World, if Government was for the praiſe of Miſchief and Violence, and the puniſhment of Goodneſs and Uprightneſs. We ſhould have little reaſon either to wiſh for the Neighbourhood of our fellow Creature; or to rejoyce in being under the Authority of Laws. And if the want of Religion would have ſuch direfull Effects, who can doubt whether it be fit and neceſſary, that the World ſhould be under the reſtraints of it. The reaſoning of the Atheiſt is certainly very unaccountable, when for the exploding Religion, he condemns it for the reſtraints it lays upon us; and yet for the preſerving Society, is forced to acknowledge, that it is neceſſary our Liberty ſhould be reſtrain'd. For, if it be fit that we be under reſtraints, why does he find fault with Religion upon that account? But if it be not, why is he a friend to Government? Either he is very reſh in condemning Religion, or he has not well weigh'd the Nature of Humane Liberty, when he lays us under the Yoke Humane Laws. For the ſame argument whereby he would ſet us at liberty from the one, ought to deſtroy the other. But if it be not fit, that we ſhould have the liberty he contends for, it is highly reaſonalbe that we ſhould be under the reſtraints, that he is an enemy to, becauſe they take the faſteſt hold upon us; and are the ſureſt means to make Society uſefull to, and Governement to have its proper effect upon us. And this I ſhall more particularly endeavour to make appear.

4. By conſidering how well Religion does provide for the Well-being of the World. And none, I am confident, that knows either what it commands, or how powerfully it perſuades, can make any doubt of its ſufficiency to this purpoſe.

1. If we conſider what it commands. For it favours every man's true Intereſt, ſecures every man's Right, and makes it penal to invade any man's Property. It is the beſt Patron and Protector of the Poor; for it preſervs their Perſons from contempt, and provides a good relief for their neceſſities. For it requires all Men to be kindly affectioned one to another, with Brotherly love, in Honour preferring one another; and not to mind high Things, but to condeſcend to Men of low Eſtate. It is the ſureſt defence to every man's Eſtate, the beſt preſervative of their Honours and Privileges, and is a much better guard to their Perſons and Poſſeſſions, than all the weapons of defence they can make uſe of: For it takes care of their Honours, by requiring Inferiours to give honour to whom honour is due; and of their Fortunes, by obliging all Men to abſtain from Violence and Wrong, and to live by Principles of Conſcience and Integrity.

And there is this further to be ſaid in the behalf of the Commands of Religion, That all Men do acknowledge the Reaſonableneſs of them. Its very Enemies confeſs, that the Reſtraints it lays upon us, and the Duties it obliges us to, are for the good of Mankind, nd neceſſary to the Well-being of the World. They know that Sobriety is more for the Health of the Body than Intemperance; and that Juſtice and Integrity conduce more to the preſervation of Peace and Order in Societies, than Craft and Knavery. And however, they are not willing that we ſhould practiſe theſe things as Religious Duties, yet they inſiſt upon a neceſſity of practiſing them. The meaning of which is nothing leſs than this, They would not have us believe we are obliged in Conſcience to do them, though they have all the reaſon of the World on their ſide: They would have us live as Religion directs, though they would not have us believe there is any. They do not think it reaſonable that we ſhould break its Commands, though they think it very reaſonable we ſhould pay no reſpect to it. So that with the ſame breath they both commend the obſerving the Duties thereof, and ridicule the belief of it. However, when they confeſs, That Converſation cannot be maintain'd without Uprightneſs and Simplicity, nor Society ſtand without Faith and Truth, nor Mankind be govern'd wighout a reſpect to Juſtice and Honeſty; 'tis ſuch a Conceſſion as will eaſily perſuade any Man to believe, that they have ſuch a ſecret ſenſe of the Truth and Reaſonableneſs of Religion, and ſuch an inward veneration for its Excellency, that nothing but their Luſts do hinder them from being its greateſt Patrons.

But there is one thing farther in which the Excellency of the Commands of Religion does conſiſt; and which, above all other things, does tend to preſerve the World in a peacealbe and flouriſhing condition. And that lies in its ſpeaking to our Minds, and obliging us not to harbour any ill thought, or indulge any extravagant humour, or yield to the motions of any violent paſſion. For by requiring us to lay aſide all Malice and Guile, and Hypocriſies and Envy, not to give way to Anger and Wrath, or to ſuffer a revengefull Thought to live in our Hearts, it ſtrikes at the root of that wickedneſs, that is vexatious and troubleſome to the World. And in this reſpect Religion is a much better foundation of Peace than the beſt Government in the World can poſſibly be. It builds our Peace and Happineſs upon an honeſt Mind and a vertuous Diſpoſition; whereas Humane Laws can take no cognizance of any thing that is within, nor lay any reſtraints upon the malice of an illdiſpoſed Mind. Upon which account the ſevereſt Proclamations and Edicts of the Civil Magiſtrate, without Religion, would be too weak to keep the World in order. For Men may be as malicious and ſpightfull, as envious and illnatur'd as they pleaſe, in ſpight of any Civil Sanctions; and ſo long as theſe Paſſions are ſuffer'd to dwell quietly within us, they will be corrupting our Actions, and frequently compell us to let them looſe to ſave our ſelves from their rage. But further.

2. Let us conſider the Motives where with it perſuades. For to ſuch a perverſeneſs is our Nature depraved, that unleſs we be awed and influenced by ſomething that is very conſiderable, no Command can be ſufficient to oblige us to do our Duty. This all Governments are aware of; and therefore thoſe in Authority do not content themſelves with preſcribing Rules of Life; and telling us, That ſuch and ſuch Actions are not for the good of Socieyt, or not convenient for our Intereſts, but enforce their Commands with Threats of puniſhment in caſe of diſobedience. And when the Atheiſt does allow of the Reaſonableneſs of theſe Reſtraints; he muſt grant, That the more powerfully we are Aw'd, the better it is for Society; and that he has no reaſon to quarrel with Religion for obliging us to do our Duty to one another, by ſetting Everlaſting Conſiderations before us. For theſe are Motives, that he will acknowledge, we ought not to deſpiſe, till we are convinced, that they are falſe; which is an acknowledgment, that Religion does take the moſt eſſectual courſe to keep us within bounds, if the Conſiderations, it makes uſe of, be but true. For doubtleſs the Rewards and Puniſhments, it ſets before us, are of much greater force to encourage Obedience, and diſcourage Diſobedience, than thoſe that the Civil Magiſtrate can make uſe of. The utmoſt puniſhment he can inflict is Death: But who will much ſtand in awe of that, when any conſiderable advantage tempts him, if there be nothing to be fear'd afterwards? Or what is there that is terrible in ſuch a puniſhment to awe a deſperate Mind? The pain is but ſhort, and the ſhame is not like to ſollow him; and when this is put in the Scale with forty or fifty years pleaſure, how eaſie is it to deſpiſe the one for the other? But now let a Man believe that his ſhame and guilt will follow him into another World, where he is like to ſuffer among curſed Spirits for ever; nd he has ſo much reaſon againſt a profligate life, as no Temporal conſideration can out-weigh. This is ſo very plain, that the Atheiſt makes no exception to the power, that theſe Terrors have to perſuade Men; but onely to the Truth of them. And it is ſtrange he ſhould, when it is ſo viſible that it is ſo much his and every man's Intereſt they ſhould be true; and that it is not poſſible Man ſhould be kept in awe without them.

CHAP. III. From the Deſires of all Men, that there ſhould be ſuch a thing as Religion in the World.

NOthing, I preſume, can be more obvious than this Truth, That if all Mankind be deſirous, that the Principles which Religion teaches, and the Duties it requires ſhould be true, we have a great deal of reaſon to believe it is highly agreeable to our Nature. For why ſhould all Men agree in ſuch a deſire, if there be not ſomething in us, that tells us it is of extraordinary advantage to us, and that takes a ſecret pleaſure and delight in it. Such a Univerſal Deſire cannot be of the nature of thoſe ſuddain Paſions which owe their Birth to humour or fanſie, but muſt ſpring from ſome certain and fixed Reaſon, which it is impoſſible for us to withſtand. Our Deſires, 'tis true, are ſometimes ſo unaccountable, that when we come to reflect upon them with ſeriouſneſs, we ſee a great deal of reaſon to be aſhamed of them. But a Deſire, in which all Mankind agrees, can never be lookt upon as a hearty Tranſport, but muſt ariſe from the Reaſonableneſs of the thing that is deſired, and be the Effect of a Cauſe that has its foundation in our Nature.

Now that there is ſuch a Deſire, will eaſily be granted, if I can make good theſe Two things: 1. That we naturally deſire all that is implied in the fundamental Principles of Religion. 2. All that Vertue that it teaches.

1. We naturally deſire all that is implied in the fundamental Principles of Religion. We love and take pleaſure to think of all the Perfections, that Religion teaches us, do belong to the Notion and Nature of a Deity, and are very deſirous to find them ſome-where, that we may reſt upon them: We are ſo extremely affected with Life, that we would never loſe it, if we could poſſibly prevent ſuch a loſs; And ſince this is not poſſible, Nature ſtartles at and abhorrs the Thoughts of Death as is moſt formidable Enemy. And as it is an Immortal life we are deſirous of, we would live ſuch a Life as Religion deſcribes, that which is to come, to be. Neither is this a fanſifull Wiſh of ſome particular Perſons onely, but the natural Deſire of all Mankind. It is not a Deſire, that ſticks to the Minds of ſuch onely, as have been educated in the Principles of Religion, but which the moſt Prophane and Atheiſtical perſon, as well as the moſt Religious, does allow to be reaſonable. Though he would have us to believe, that he ſees no reaſon to believe there is a God or a furture ſtate of Immortality and Glory; yethe is too great a friend o himſelf to think that Death is as deſirable as Life, and Miſery as gratefull as Happineſs. Though he loves not to think there is a God, yet he cannot but wiſh that there was ſomeghing that was as wiſe and powerfull, as good and comapſſionate as we believe God to be: And though he be an Enemy to the Notion of another life, yet he ſeels himſelf ſtrongly inclined to approve of the Immortality, and to wiſh for as quiet and eaſie a life as belongs to that ſtate. The truth on't is, he is no enemy to the Wiſdom and Goodneſs that is in God, or to ſuch uninterrupted Joys and Pleaſures, and ſuch laſting Enjoyments as Religion teaches us to look for hereafter; but he does not love to think, that there is a God, that is thus perfect; or to be put off to a future ſtate, where we are taught, That Immortality and Life will be diſpoſed of as we qulifie our ſelves for them in this life. The Enmity then, that he bears to Religion, is not becauſe he believes the Principles thereof to be unreaſonable; but, becauſe he can find nothing in this World, that he loves and doats on ſo much, to contain all that Excellency and Good that Religion informs us of. For was this World as glorious and happy a place as Heaven is repreſented to us to be; or was there any thing, that he loves in it, as great and perfect as God is, he would have no quarrel at all with theſe things: But his great ſpight to Religion is, That when it acquaints with things ſo deſirable as Immortality and Life, the Wiſdom and Goodneſs, and other Perfections of a Deity, it puts him upon a contempt of thoſe Enjoyments, he loves here, for the better qualifying himſelf for thoſe hereafter. But as to the Things themſelves.

1. He is deſirous, as well as other Men are, of a friend, who is every way qulified to be helpfull to him. As confident as he appears that there is no God, and as much ſport as he makes himſelf with our belief, that there is, he, as much as any other Man, feels the imperfection of humane Nature, and a neceſſity of having a recourſe to ſomething without him for relief and refreſhment. He thinks himſelf wiſe in diſowning a God; and yet he is ſenſible that no leſs Wiſdom, and Power, and Goodneſs, than that which is in God, is ſufficient to his happineſs. And therefore he does not think it fit at all times to rely upon the Abilities of his own Nature, as if he was an independant Being; but like all other Men, is deſirous of a friend, that will be kind and helpfull to him; A friend, that has Wiſdom enough to know how to adviſe and direct him, and ſo to order his affairs, that he need not doubt of a good iſſue to them; That has power ſufficient to relieve him, when he is preſs'd with any difficulties; and who, above all, has ſo much goodneſs and compaſſion in his Nature, as aſſures him of a favourable reception when-ever he makes his addreſs to him. Now to deſier ſuch a friend, is to wiſh that there was a God, to govern and order all Events, and to preſide ove and be a ready help to us in all our Exigencies. So that let us ſuppoſe that this wiſe diſcoverer was really right in his belief concerning this Principle of Religion; yet when ever he reflects upon his own Wants, he will not have much cauſe to rejoyce in his diſcovery; but every moment furniſhes him with freſh Reaſons to wiſh he was miſtakenl; and all the World will conſeſs that he is much in the right, when he wiſhes for ſuch a friend, as we believe God to be. For to wiſh for a friend, that is at all times able and willing to help us; for a friend, that has no changeableneſs, nor ſhadow of turning in his Temper; for a friend, that is faithfull and true, full of compaſſion and gret pity, is to make it our hearty deſire; that there was a God, and as heartily to bewail our want of him, if there be none. So that the Atheiſt, who joyns in this common Wiſh with all Mankind, muſt believe that his Faith not for his Intereſt, but that it will be much better for him if it be falſe. He muſt repent himſelf of his folly, in arguing himſelf out of the belieff of an infinitely perfect Being; ſince ſuch a Being is ſo very needfull to him, that he cannot but every moment be wiſhing for ſuch a Being: And yet if he has argued rightly, if there be no God. it is his unhappineſs that there is no ſuch friend as he wants, and wiſhes for to be found. And now what has this Man got by the Wiſdom of his Speculations? What great cauſe has he to triumph in having undeceived himſelf into ſo wretched a condition, that he wiſhes was out of it? He has diſputed himſelf out of the belief of a God; and yet ſo little can he do without one, that he ſeeks for and deſires to find one ſome-where elſe, than where he is. He cannot live without an infinitely good and perfect Being, and yet he not willing there ſhould be ſuch a Being in the World: And what is this, but to fly to the Principle he derides and ſcorns as the beſt ſupport and onely comfort of his life.

Neither do his Wants and Imperfections alone force him to wiſh for ſuch a friend as we believe God to be; but his Paſſions many times make him to deſire he had a friend, that would not ſee him wrong'd, but that had both Power and Will to avenge him; A friend that would ſtand by him and do him right, when he can have Juſtice from no other hand. And what is this, but to wiſh there was a Being that had the Juſtice and Providence of a God? He would, it ſeems, have a God to himſelf at the ſame time that he endeavours to laugh all the World out of conceit of ſuch a Being; A God to plague his Enemies with, though it is to his Paſſions he is more beholding for ſuch a Deſire, than, as he would have us believe, to any good reaſon he has for it.

2. He is deſirous likewiſe of an Immortal life. Life is ſo fundamnetal a Bleſſing, that without it we are capable of none of the comforts and enjoyments of this World: The grave, as the Pſalmiſt ſtyles it, is that land of darkneſs, where all things are forgotten. The dead know not any thing, ſaith the Wiſe-man, neither have they any more a reward, for the memory of them is forgotten, Eccleſs. 9.5. Their love, and their hatred, and their envy is periſhed; i.e. They are neither capable of doing themſelves or others either good or harm: Neither have they any more a portion in any thing that is done under the Sun, v. 6. i.e. All the Pleaſures and Glories of this World are loſt to them, neither is there any thing here that can rejoyce them. And therefore the Wiſe-man inferrs, That all the ſenſible delight, we are capable of, is to be enjoy'd here, and dedpends upon Life. Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart, &c. What-ever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might: i.e. Make uſe of Time and Opportunity, while this Life laſts; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledged, nor wiſdom in the grave, whither thou goeſt, v. 10. And who is he that is not wiſe wiſe enough to know the Truth of all this? Who is he, that is not ſenſible, that all bodily Delights do depend upon Life; and that Life is ſo great a Bleſſing, that we can hardly be too tender of it? Do we not all expreſs ſo paſſiionate a deſire of living, and ſo much reluct to the Thoughts of dying, that we can hardly reconcile our ſelves to the Thoughts of it, when we ſee there is no avoiding it, and have all the reaſon in the World to be cloy'd with living? When we can no longer taſt the pleaſures of the World, and ſtoop under the burthen of Years, we are too apt to think it good for us to live ſtill, and are for trying Remedies to put off Death till a further ſeaſon. I know indeed that there have been a great many excellent Perſons, that rather than deny their Faith, have laid down their Lives with a great deal of chearſulneſs; and have rejoyced in their Sufferings, when they have been haled before Tribunals, and dragg'd to a Stake. But this does not prove that Life is not a very valuable Bleſſing; but that to a Religious Man, the happineſs of the Mind and Conſcience is much greater; and that of the two, it is a much wiſer thing to expoſe the Body to ſufferings, rather than the Mind to vexation and miſery. It ſhows that a good Man's hope is ſufficient to quiet Natrue, and to perſuade it to ſubmit patiently to a Diſſolution; and that Religion does furniſh us with ſuch a bravery of Mind, as rather to chuſe to die with a good Conſcience, than to live with a bad one.

But what is this to the caſe of the Atheiſt, who has no ſuch reaſon to deſpiſe Death? And beſides, it is not becauſe Men are out of Charity with Life, that in any ſuch caſe they ſo eaſily part with it; but it is a Hope and Deſire to live a Life of Immortality, that prevails with them to ſet ſo little by this. And this Deſire is as much in the Atheiſt as any Man, onely he would have his Immortality here. He looks for nothing after Death; and therefore he has nothing before him to perſuade him, it is good for him to die. He is under a more particular Obligation than any Man to be extremely tender of this life, becauſe all that he has, or hopes for, lies in it. It is very eaſie for a Man that believes Death is a paſſage to a much better and more durable Life than this, to be willing to quit this; but it is the hardeſt thing in the World for an Atheiſt to do ſo; becauſe there is no reaſon why he ſhould; and no doubt but he who values himſelf ſo much for the goodneſs of his Reaſon, will yield us that it is a very hard thind for a Man to do or like of any thing without Reaſon.

The onely thing, that the Atheiſt can comfort himſelf with, ſince he muſt die, is; That Death is a ſtarte of Annihilation; and that in the Grave, though he has for ever loſt all the pleaſures and comforts of Life, he ſhall be no more ſenſible of Evil than of Good, But this is no other than the ſorry comfort of a dicontented Man, who, to eaſe his Mind, betakes himſelf to any weak ſupport, when he can no longer keep the valuable thing, that he is not willing to part with. For when a Man has loſt all that he has will he thank his friend for the comfort he gives him, by telling him, that now he is as low as he can be; and that though he has not the advantages of his former better condition, yet he cannot be in a worſe than he is? This is his trouble and affliction: And ſo it muſt be to the Atheiſt likewiſe to know, that he cannot for ever enjoy the Life that he takes ſo much pleaſure in. For ſuppoſe it true, that he ſhall at laſt be reduced to a ſtate, in which he ſhall neither feel good nor evil, what comfort can that be to him, when he knows he muſt loſe all the Good he now delights in? There is no queſtion, but were Life and Death at his choice, and in his power, he would much rather chuſe to live on, and be what he is, than to die and be nothing at all. And ſince he values Immortality as ſo deſirable a Bleſſing, does he not make a tacit confeſſion that Religion is too agreeable to our Nature to be falſe. But.

3. He not onely deſires to live, but he deſires a Life perfectly free from trouble and vexation. The pleaſures he loves are not, 'tis true, of the ſame nature with thoſe in Heaven, which Religion teaches us to aſpire after; but he is deſirous they ſhoud be as laſting and as little interrupted, as full of ſatisſaction, and have as little Evil mingled with them, as thoſe have. Though he conſiders himſelf onely as a ſenſitive Creature, and goes no further for his Happineſs than the Objects this World ſets before him; yet he loves his Body as well as Religion teaches us to do our Souls, and woudl enjoy all bodily Pleaſures in as high a perſection, as Religion informs us holy Souls do thoſe that are Spiritual.

What-ever is apt to put the Body into a painfull, uneaſie condition, is, in the opinion of all the World, and Affliction and Calamity. No Man doubts but it is a great Bleſſing to be capable of ſeeing the Glories, and taſting the ſweet, and feeling the good that is lodged in this ſenſible World. But if by having ſuch bodily Powers we did taſt nothing, but what is bitter and unſavoury, nor ſee any thing but what is troubleſome and vexatious, nor hear any thing but what is ungratefull and harſh, we ſhould not much rejoyce in our privilege. 'Tis this conſideration for the Body is the reaſon, that the Atheiſt is sfallen out with Religion: For he pretends that it is an enemy to our happineſs, and ſuffers us not to enjoy our ſelves with that freedom, as otherwiſe we might: That it lays ſevere reſtraints upon us, and makes ſelf-denial a neceſſary Vertue: That in ſome caſes it obliges us to quit our Enjoyments, to vex our Bodies with ſevere Mortifications, and to undergo with patience Pains and Torments. Now although this be true, and the Atheiſt makes uſe of it as a very conſiderable prejudice againſt Religion; yet it is very much for the reputation and advantage of Religion, that he undertakes to prove thereby, That Mankind cannot be ſatisfied with a leſs degree of Happineſs than what Religion ſets before us. For he plainly intimates, that he would have the Body ſuffer no kind of pain, nor be denied any thing that is good and gratefull to our Senſes; That he would enjoy the pleaſures of this life with as much freedom, and as much untainted as thoſe the good Man looks for hereafter. And to this purpoſe he takes care to improve his Pleaſures, and to make all his Enjoyments as poinant and delicious as poſſibly he can. And now what is it that this Man does quarrel at Religion for? Upon what reaſon does he report it to be an invention, and perſuade himſelf, that its Principles are laid in our Minds by Art and Education, when he is ſo great a friend to, and ſo deſirous of them? He has nothing to except againſt a Being that is abſolutely perfect, for 'tis ſuch a friend that he deſires: He has no quarrel with an Immortal life, for 'tis ſuch a life as he would live; nor does he find fault with Joys and Pleaſures, that have nothing to ſully and interrupt them; for he is ſenſible that no leſs delights do deſerve the name of Happineſs. All the difference then between him and Religion lies in this; That it deferrs our hopes of ſuch enjoyments, and ſuch a life to another ſtate, and he would have them now. But ſince he finds it impoſſible we ſhould have them here, he has infinite reaſon to think well of Religion, becauſe it takes care to ſatisfie his deſires at the laſt, if he will but depend upon it. If his deeſires of theſe things be reaſonable, he has little reaſon to believe Religion to be ſo unreaſonable an impoſition, as he complains it is. And although he is not reconciled to the Notion of ſpiritual Delights, yet he ought. For the reaſon why he laughs at them, is, becauſe he believes he has nothing but a Body to pleaſe. And it is certain, that if he be right in his Faith, he is not miſtaken when he makes this World his onely place of pleaſure and delight. But how then comes he to deſire ſuch a degree of Happineſs, as is not to be had here below? Whence is it that he cannot content himſelf with the ſenſible pleaſures of this life, ſuch as he finds them? For no bodily Delights are pure and unallay'd, uninterrupted and endleſs; and if theſe be the onely Delights we are capable of, how comes it we are capable of wiſhing for better? If his Deſires be reaſonable, he has as much reaſon to deſire and value the ſpiritual Enjoyments of another life, as to deſire ſuch Joys as are endleſs. For, ſince nothing in this World can ſatisfie ſuch a Deſire, he muſt either look upon himſelf to be very ill framed for any kind of Happineſs at all, or he muſt look beyond this life for pleaſures as endleſs, and full as the deſires. And ſince the nature of his Deſires do neceſſarily lead him thither at the laſt, he ought not to deſpiſe the notion of ſpiritual Enjoyments, ſince there are no other there. I come,

2. To conſider how all that Vertue, which Religion teaches us, is likewiſe the Matter of every Man's deſire. 'Tis every Man's defire that Truth and Faithfulneſs, Juſtice and Honeſty, Uprightneſs and Integrity were Univerſally practis'd in the World. The Violence of humane Paſſions, the unrulineſs of Humour, and the, extravagancies of our Appetites are ſo troubleſome to the World; And all kind of Immoralities are attended with ſuch bad effects, that there is none but wiſhes that they were utterly extirpated, and the contrary Vertues eſtabliſh'd. For who is there, that would not gladly dwell in ſafety, and peaceably enjoy the fruits of his labour? Who would not live free from vexation and trouble, and paſs his life with as little diſquiet and diſturbance as poſſible. Go to the Man, that makes the leaſt account of Religion; and who, when a fair opportunity invites him to raiſe himſelf and his fortune, by invading the Rights of another, is not willing to loſe the advantage, who reckons Craft and Diſſimulation a neceſſary Prudence, and Injuſtice and Oppreſſion lawfull Methods of compaſſing his Aims: Enquire, I ſay, of this Man, who ſeems ſo little a friend to the ſlow-paced Vertues of Juſtice and Integrity, whether he would be content, that all Men ſhoud make as little account of them as he does; and whether he would be willing to live by a Neighbour, that makes uſe of the ſame baſe Arts; or chuſe rather to have dealings with thoſe, that make Conſcience of their doings: And even this Man, I doubt not, will then declare in favour of theſe ſociable and good-natur'd Vertues; and wiſh with all his heart, that every-body elſe would abhorr the wickedneſs, that he thrives by, and at leaſt for his own quiet and ſecurity deſire, that he may never meet with one, that has more ways to over-reach than he is aware of. If he loves Oppreſſion and Knavery, it is onely in himſelf, but in no-body elſe; it is for the gain he makes by them, not for the reaſonableneſs of ſuch actions: And therefore if ever he ſuffers by them, he cenſures and condemns them as ſeverely as any-body elſe. So that although he bears no reſpect to Religion himſelf, yet he does not deſire to ſee the Perinciples, he lives by, univerſally eſtabliſh'd, but woudl have all Men to be true and juſt in their dealings, and knind and courteous in their deportment and converſation with him; i.e. He would have every Man reſtrain'd by Religion from doing him wrong, and his Perſon and Eſtate ſecured from the miſchief of his own Villainies. And if we were to go through the World, we ſhall find all Men of the ſame mind, condemning the Vices that Religion prohibits; and deſirous that there was more Vertue and Goodneſs, more juſt and honeſt dealings among Men than there is, in thoſe frequent complaints of that little Conſcience and Integrity they meet with, and thoſe ſorrowfull ſtories they tell, how much they have been over-reach'd and cozen'd, how much wrong has been done them, and how many abuſes and affronts have been put upon them. For there is no Man, that feels theſe things, but he feels the want of Religion; and when we complain of the vexation they give us, we expreſs a deſire, that the Duties of Religion were more Univerſally practis'd.

There is indeed one part of Religion, that ſeems to be very little in the deſires of Men; but the contrary to be moſt countenanced and affected with the greateſt paſſion: And that conſiſts generally in the Duties, that have a reſpect to our ſelves. And of this nature chiefly is the vertue of Temperance. For, becauſe the intemperate Man hurts no-body but himſelf, few concern themſelves to wiſh he was more ſober; and they who delight in this Vice ſeem very deſirous to propagate it. But yet it is not altogether true, that Religion in this reſpect is not much rather wiſh'd for than the Vice, that is contrary to it. For Temperance has thoſe Excellencies in it, and is attended with thoſe advantages as render it too amiable and deſirable to be deſpiſed: It keeps us to ſuch a meaſure of Eating and Drinking, with which Nature is contented: And ſince the onely End of Eating and Drinking is for the ſupport of Nature, and the maintaining the health and vigour of our Bodies, it muſt belong to Nature to ſet its own Bounds, and to tell us what is ſufficient for theſe Ends. But when we tranſgreſs the bounds of Nature, and eat and drink not onely that we may live, but that we may pleaſe a luxurious Appetite, inſtead of ſupporting Nature, we weaken and deſtroy it, and make thoſe very refreſhments, by which we are to live, to be the occaſion of Diſeaſes and Death. Such a uſe of Meat and Drink tires and over-charges Nature, ſo that it is never at reſt 'till it ſome way or other gets rid of its burden; which if it cannot do, the Man languiſhes and droops under the Waſtings of an unconquerable Surfeit. And theſe are ſuch lathſome and miſchievous conſequences, as oftentimes make the intemperate Man, as much pleaſure as he takes in his Exceſſes, to abhorr his Debauch, and to wiſh his Companions were more ſober.

And now, if to fear God and keep his Commandments be ſo agreeable to the Minds of Men; If it be ſo deſirable a thing to all ſorts of perſons to believe there is a Being that deſerves our firmeſt Truſt and Confidence, our greateſt Love and Reverence, and to have Faith and Truth, Love and Good-nature, Sincerity and Juſtice maintain'd; in a word, if it be hard to find a Man, that does not at one time or other wiſh that all the Vertues of Religion were more in Reputation, who can think, that That which is ſo deſirable to all Men, has not a real Foundation in our Nature.

CHAP. IV. From the Univerſal Senſe of Mankind, that there is a vaſt difference between Vertue and Vice.

IT is not onely a deſirable thing to Mankind, that there ſhould be ſuch a thing as Religion; but all Men do agree in no one thing more than this, That there is. What is it that all Nations of Men, how much ſoever they differ in their Cuſtoms and Manners, do more univerſally acknowledge than this Truth, That there is an abſolutely perfect Being, to whom our higheſt Veneration and moſt ſolemn Adorations are due? Let us go where we will, we ſhall find, that though there be miſtakes in Men's apprehenſions concerning the Nature of God, and different perſuaſions concerning the God that ought to be worſhip'd; yet there is no difference of opinion, whether there be a God whom all Men ought to worſhip. Neither has this Perſuaſion been propagated by Time, and a mutual intercourſe among Men; for no Time can be inſtanced in, when Men did as Univerſally agree, that there is no God, as now they do, that there is one: And thoſe Nations, that have been unknown to all the Ages of the World till of late, were, upon their diſcovery, found to be as zealous Aſſertors of this Principle, as thoſe who have had opportunities of Commerce with each other.

And beſides, there is as general a conſent too concerning the Differences between Vertue and Vice: That thoſe Actions which we call vertuous, are comely and gracefull; and that there is ſuch a natural Deformity and baſeneſs in Vice, as is diſturbing to Homane Nature, and vexatious to the Minds and Conſciences of Men. Let us traverſe the whole World, we ſhall find no ſort of People in any corner thereof, but do own, that there are ſome ſort of Actions not to be tolerated among Men, and others that deſerve to be encouraged and ſupproted. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, Turk nor Chriſtian; no ſort of Men, I ſay, how diſtant ſoever from each other in Religion, but do all agree in this, That it is by Juſtice and Righteouſneſs, by Faith and Truth, and the like Vertues, that the World ſtands, and that the Vices, that are contrary thereto, do ſhake the very foundations of the Earth. And therefore go where you will, you will find no People ſo rude and deſtitute of Knowledge, but you will find ſome kind of Laws for the ſuppreſſing Vice, and the maintaining Vertue; and very great care uſed to puniſh Evil-doers, and to encourage thoſe that do well. All Nations are not, 'tis true, equally Cultivated and Civilized; but yet that there are ſome ſo barbarous as to live upon Spoil and Rapine, Theft and Robbery, is rather owing to the illneſs of their Religion than their Belief, that there is none. But yet although there are ſome ſort of people, that are generally addicted to ſome particular Vices, and that by publickly tolerating them, do ſeem to have no ſenſe of the illneſs of them; yet there are none that have ſo totally loſt all ſenſe of the differences between Vertue and Vice, as to allow of the rage of every Paſſion, and to ſhow to kind of reſpect to any one Vertue. And beſides, it is very obvious, that they who allow of ſuch barbarous Cuſtome among themſelves, have ſome ſecret Apprehenſions of the illneſs of them; becauſe they are for revenging it as a wrong, when their own Houſes are plunder'd, and their Territories invaded. Though they allow of theſe Vices in themſelves, yet they do believe them ſo great Wickedneſſes in others, as to be reaſon enough thy they be ſuch Enemies to their own Cuſtoms, as by Fire and Sword to endeavour the exterminating them? Why ſhould they believe them not fit to be tolerated among they believe them not fit to be tolerated among their Neighbours? If they believe them to be generous and noble Actions, why are they provoked and exaſperated by them, and contribute their endeavours to preven their ſpreading through the World? Surely it is not much for the reputation of theſe Actions, that thoſe, that favour them moſt, cannot brook them. Now whence is it, that Mankind ſhould generally agree to ſet a mark of diſgrace and infamy upon ſome kind of Actions, and bear witneſs to the Excellency and Uſefulneſs of others; that ſome ſhould be reſented, and others favour'd by us; that ſome ſhould be proſecuted, and others encouraged; and Men ſhould be accounted either good or bad Neighbours, according as they practiſe either the one or the other, if there was no difference at all between them, and Humane Nature was no more framed for the one than the other?

Thoſe, I know, who would have all Men think as lightly of Religion, as they do, tell us, That the difference that is between Vertue and Vice, does not lie in the Nature of them, or the agreeableneſs that the one has to our Nature more than the other; but does ariſe from the Laws of Men, that forbid and make it unjuſt and penal to do the one, and encourage the practice of the other. That Man, conſider'd in his natural ſtate, is no more obliged to do Juſtice, or love Mercy, than to be cruel and oppreſſive; but that theſe and all other Laws of right Reaſon do obtain the force of Laws, by being commanded by thoſe that have the power of Dominion in their hands.

Now to this I reply, 1. That this Principle over-throws the Divine Authority, and leaves it to our own choice, or the Will of the Civil Magiſtrate, whether he ſhall have any Rule or Dominion over us. For if it be true, that we are under no Obligation to obſerve the Dictates of our own Conſciences, or the Commands of our Reaſon, any more than the Laws of our ſenſual Appetites, till the one is declared pious and holy, and the other impious, by the Decrees of the Civil Magiſtrate; all the reaſon then that we have to fear Almighty Power, and love infinite Goodneſs, and to obey the higheſt Authority in the World, muſt be, becauſe the Laws of our Country have declared it is good and reaſonable to do ſo. This wicked Doctrine is expreſsly taught in a very bad Book,Tract. Theel. Polit. 215, 216. where we are told, that Religion, whether natural or revealed, is of no force till we think good to receive it, or it be eſtabliſh'd by the Civil Authority. And accordingly that the Religion, that God gave the Jews, did not oblige them, till by a common conſent they had determin'd to obey it; or rather, till by transferring their natural Right to every thing upon Moſes, they gave him a power to oblige them to worſhip the God, that had deliver'd them. This is ſo vile a Doctrine, that one would think the very naming it ſhould be enough to expoſe it. For if the caſe be thus as to Religion; what is it then, that we muſt fear, or love; believe, or obey; if not that Power, that can do us the moſt hurt; or that Goodneſs, that can do us the moſt good; or that Truth, which is the moſt infallibly certain; or that Authority, which is the moſt ſoveraign? Why are theſe Affections planted in our Nature, if Nature muſt not tell us what uſe we are to make of 'em, till we have the Command of the Civil Magiſtrate. And further, if this be true, the Jews were not bound to believe the Religion God had given, and the Truths he had reveal'd to them, to have any Excellency or Truth in them, when they lived under the Authority of ſuch Princes as were Enemies to them; neither had God any reaſon to blame them for revolting from him, when they worſhip'd Jeroboam's Calves, or Manaſſes's Idols. And when they were in Babylon, the three Children were guilty of a great Wickedneſs in diſobeying Nebuchadnezzar's Command, to worſhip his Golden Image; and Daniel was juſtly thrown to the Lions for aſſerting the Authority of the God of Iſrael againſt the expreſs Command of Darius: For both he and all the Jews were then bound to believe, that the God, whom they and their Fathers had worſhip'd in their own Land, had loſt his Authority over them, ſince they were carried into a ſtrange Land; and that they were under the ſtricteſt ties to think as meanly of him as their Enemies would have them. And indeed, if that Senſe of Religion, that is among Men, does owe it ſelf to the Edicts of Princes, we cannot be under an Obligation always to believe, that to be an infallible Truth, which now we are bound to believe is ſo; neither can we ſay, that we are for ever bound to Honour and Love the God whom we now Reverence and Adore; nor to pay a perpetual reſpect to thoſe Revelations which now we muſt confeſs are Divine. For a Chriſtian among the Turks, muſt be lookt on as an impious Perſon, if he don't believe according to the Laws of the Alchoran: And none can tell but it may become a neceſſary Duty to contemn and blaſpheme the God whom he now Adores.

Neither is this the worſt conſequence of this Principle. For if God be beholding to the Laws of Magiſtrates for the Fear and Reverence, that Men bear him, there is no certain reaſon, why we ought to Fear and Reverence him at all: For if he hath not that Power and Goodneſs, which are apt to move theſe Affections, no Civil Sanction can give him them. . And beſides, no Humane Law can take any cognizence-whether we have ſuch a regard to a Deity or no. They can onely puniſh an open Contempt, but they cannot reach our Minds; nor lay a ſecret Awe and Dread of a Being there, that has nothing either lovely or great in himſelf, to be the Foundation of it. So that the Abetters of his Principle muſt either deny, that there is any Fear of a Deity among Men; or they muſt acknowledge, that it ſprings from a higher Cauſe than a Humane Authority. But,

2. I ſhall more particularly conſider that inſufficiency of this Principle to render the Univerſal Senſe of Religion that is among Men, accountable. And in order to this, we are to obſerve, that it ſuppoſes theſe two Tings: 1. That Humane Nature is ſo framed, as to be no more diſpoſed to Vertue than to Vice. 2. That the greater diſpoſition to Vertue, that is among Men, is owing to the Laws of Civil States.

1. It ſuppoſes Humane Nature to be ſo framed, as to be no more diſpoſed to Vertue than to Vice. This is very neceſſary for them to maintain, who reſolve the Senſe we have of the Excellency of Vertue, into Humane Laws. But by aſſerting this, they, Firſt, Deſtroy that Liberty which they deſign to eſtabliſh by it. Secondly, It renders it impoſſible that any Law ſhould ever have been made for the obliging us to a greater and more venerable Eſteem for Vertue than Vice.

1. They hereby deſtroy that Liberty, which they deſign to eſtabliſh. The Liberty, I mean, of obeying either the Commands of Reaſon, or of our bodily Appetites, as we pleaſe. They ſuppoſe that we are at liberty to obey either the one or the other; and that if we ſuffer our Appetites to bear Rule in us, we are not guilty of any fault, becauſe our Nature does not determine us to the Obedience of Reaſon, rather than our Appetites: But that ſince both have an equal Power and Authority over us, it is at our own choice which we will obey. Now if this be true, it muſt be granted, That the greater regard we have to Vertue than Vice, cannot derive it ſelf from the Frame of our Nature. But it is as true too, that we cannot have ſuch a Liberty as this Principle is deſigned to ſupport: For if the Authority of Reaſon and our Appetites be equal, we ought not to favour the one more than the other; becauſe there is nothing more on the one ſide than the other to determine us to yield to the Authority of the one more than the other. If Reaſon have as much Authority to command us as our Appetites, we cannot incline towards our Appetites more than our Reaſon, but to the great prejudice of that Authority, that belongs to our Reaſon. For he that upon this reaſon, becauſe their Authority is equal, takes the liberty to obey his Appetites, is unjuſt to his Reaſon, by giving a greater Authority to his Appetites, than according to the Frame of our Nature they ought to have.

2. It randers it impoſſible that any Law ſhould ever have been made for the obliging us to a greater and more venerable Eſteem for Vertue than for Vice. For before ſuch a Law could be made, it muſt be debated which of theſe two Authorities, it was moſt fit, that Man ſhould be under the Government of; whether it was beſt for him to obey the Laws of his Mind, or thoſe of his Members; whether the Dictates of Reaſon, or the Commands of the Appetites, ſhould be Authorized.

But how was it ever poſſible that any Man ſhould thus debate this caſe, if both theſe Powers were equal? The Power of the Appetite would be of as much force to withſtand the Commands of Reaſon, as Reaſon to enact againſt the Power of the Appetite. There could be no inclination to favour the Laws of Reaſon, becauſe the Appetite has as much power to oppoſe its Intereſts, as it has to eſtabliſh them; neither could the Appetite prevail to the enforcing its Laws, becauſe Reaſon has an equal Power to withſtand them. If Reaſon and the Appetite have an equal Power to command us, neither can poſſibly command the other; but Man muſt have ſuſpended Phis choice for ever, which of the two he would have ſuffer'd to bear Rule in him. If both had an equal Right to rule, both had likewiſe an equal Power to maintain their Authority; and the Appetite would no more ſuffer us to incline to Peaſon, than Reaſon to the Appetite. The Reaſon for our obdying both being equal, there was no over-ruling Reaſon to bring us over to the Authority of Reaſon. So then, though Humane Laws do aſſert the Differences of Vertue and Vice, and do favour the former in oppoſition to the latter; yet it is not from theſe Laws, that we learn to know what is juſt and what is unjuſt, but from thoſe natural Differences, that are in the things themſelves. For thoſe Laws that eſtabliſh the Dictates of Reaſon, and do oblige us to the Practice of Juſtice and Charity, and the like Vertues, do ſuppoſe that there was more reaſon for the commanding theſe things than the contrary, and conſequently, that the Appetite had not an equal Right to rule us; but that the Authority we ought to ſubmit to, does lie on the ſide of Reaſon. Such Laws being made it muſt be granted, that that Reaſon which enacted them found it had a greater Power and Authority in us, than the Appetites which are reſtrained can pretend to. And if this be ſo, then it is not owing to the Authority of the Law, but that greater Power of Reaſon which over-rules our Appetites, that we pay a greater reſpect to Vertue than Vice. For unleſs Reaſon has a right to conſult what is beſt for us, no Law could inform us, what was ſo: And unleſs there was more reaſon to oblige us to obey the Dictates of Reaſon, than the Commands of our Appetites, thoſe whom this Principle gives the Power of determining what is juſt and right, and what is not, could have no reaſon to determine the matter either way, or to come to a reſolution, which ought to bear ſway in us.

2. I come now to conſider the ſecond thing ſuppoſed in this Principle, viz. That the greater diſpoſition to Vertue, that is among Men, is owing to the Laws of Civil States. Now although it muſt be granted, that Humane Laws are a very great ſupport to Vertue, yet it is ſo far from being true, that they laid the firſt Diſpoſition thereto in our Minds, that they can beget no Diſpoſition at all, if it be with humane Nature as the great ſticklers for this Principle teach. They may contribute to the recovery of a loſt or decayed Diſpoſition, but they can no more diſpoſe us to that, which we never were diſpoſed to, than they can make Humane Nature to be, what it never was. The Improvement of Nature is by reſtoring it to its firſt and primitive State; and to go any further, is not to correct, but to make it another thing to what it was: And if according, to the firſt Frame of our Nature, Vertue and Vice was equally good to us, it can never be improved to any higher pitch, in caſe of corruption, but to that equality of Power, that in our natural State belongs to Reaſon and our Appetites. But that the greater diſpoſition to Vertue than Vice, or that quick ſenſe of the Excellency of the one, and the deformity of the other that is in us, is not caving to the Authority of Humane Laws, I ſhall endeavour to make appear in three Things.

1. That, according to this Principle, we are under as great an Obligation to believe Truth to be Falſhood, and Vertue to be Vice, if they were ſo declared by thoſe in Authority, as we are now to believe the contrary. If it be the Civil Magiſtrate, that muſt inform us, what is juſt and right, and it be no Crime to cheat and ſteal, to murther or do any kind of Miſchief, that our Appetites diſpoſe us to, in caſe there was no Magiſtrate to reſtrain us, we muſt believe the moſt wicked thing, that can be done, to be juſt and lawfull, and a neceſſary Vertue, if it was commanded. This is a neceſſary Conſequence from this Principle, which makes Humane Laws, not onely to be the ſole Rule of Vertue, but the Determiner of the Differences between Vertue and Vice. For if Vertue be Vertue upon no other rea on, but becauſe the Civil Magiſtrate does give Authority to Reaſon, Vice would be Vertue if he ſhould give Authority to our Appetites.

2. It gives no account how it comes to paſs, that all ſucceeding Generations of Men do retain the ſame Senſe of the Goodneſs of Vertue, and the baſeneſs of Vice, as their Forefathers had For if Reaſon has no preference over our Appetites in Nature, it muſt be at the Choice of every Perſon, that is born, whether Reaſon or his bodily Appetites ſhall rele him. I mean, he is not bound to receive thoſe Laws, by which his Fore-fathers have declared the Commands of Reaſon to be juſt; but it muſt be at his own choice (if it be allowed that he has a Power to determine himſelf to which he pleaſes) whether they ſhall be Laws to him or no; and conſequently, whether that ſhall be juſt to him, which was to them. For if, as the broachers of this leud Doctrine tell us, it be true, that Humane Laws have their force onely from hence; that Men are contented to part with their natural Right, and to leave it to the diſcretion of their Governours to declare, whether they ſhall be bound to live, as Reaſon directs, or no; ſuch Laws can onely oblige thoſe, that thus part with their natural Right. For if the natural ſtate of every Man be the ſame, how can our Fore-father's Act oblige us, or what we do be binding to our Poſterity? And if what was done a great while ago by our Anceſtors, when they conſented, that Reaſon ſhould be the ruling Principle in us, do not bind us, the Laws, that made it a wickedneſs in them to live otherwiſe than according to Reaſon, cannot make it ſo in us. And if this be true, as certainly it is, it leaves Vertue and Government, and all that is juſtly accounted Sacred among Men, ſo much at the Mercy of every Generation, that we have good reaſon to look upon it as a very wonderfull thing, that in every Age there ſhould be the ſame ſenſe about theſe things among Men: That though one Generation goes, and another comes, there ſhould never yet come one, that ſhould think fit as generally to ſet up the Intereſts and Authority of our Appetites, as we are told our Fore-fathers have done, that of Reaſon; but that Religion and Vertue ſhould ſtill continue to have the Univerſal eſteem and regard of all Men.

3. It gives no account how there ſhould be an Univerſal agreement among Men, rather to eſtabliſh the Dictates of Reaſon, than of our Appetites. For if our Appetites have as much right to govern us as our Reaſon, how comes it to paſs that all Nations ſhould rather make it a Wickedneſs to be led by our Appetites than our Reaſon? And this is the more ſtrange, becauſe we generally find we are more prone to humour our bodily Appetites, than obey our Reaſon: That though the Commands of our Reaſon be ſeconded by thoſe of Religion, and ſupported by Humane Laws, yet it is a great difficulty to tame our Appetites, and to make them governable. And if the Authority of Reaſon does depend upon nothing more than the Sanctions of the Magiſtrate, what account can be given of the making of thoſe Laws, which are ſo much againſt the Intereſts of our Appetites? And how came Reaſon to be preferr'd before, and advanced above our Appetites, when they had much the advantage of it to prevail with us to favour them? Why ſhould that be choſen to be the ruling Principle in us, which we ſeem to have the leaſt liking to, if there be no prevailing Reaſon in the Nature of the thing, that determin'd the choice this way? If there be no intrinſick Excellency in Vertue, nor no natural illneſs and deformity in Vice, how come the ſeveral States and Governments, that are in the World, to agree generally to beat down the reputation of Vice, and to recommend the Practice of the other? If there be nothing in us that does naturally ahhorr Acts of Impiety and Villainy, and that looks upon all kinds of Wickedneſs to be ſhamefull and diſturbing to the World, why are all the Laws of the World made more for the cruſhing of theſe, than Actions of another nature? Why are not Men forbid to do Juſtice, and to love Mercy, to be kind and charitable, to be true and faithfull, as well as they are to be falſe and diſhoneſt, oppreſſive and injurious, if Humane Nature be no more an Enemy to the one than the other? Is it not obvious from hence, that there is not onely an Univerſal agreement among Men concerning the difference between ſpring from the very Nature of theſe things themſelves?

And beſides, I ſhall add this, That there are things that the ſevereſt Enemies of Religion cannot deny.

1. They cannot deny but that the general ſenſe of Mankind does lie againſt them. They never go about to prove, That the World was ever of another Opinion; or that the greateſt part of Mankind did ever ſpeak as much in favour of Vice, as now they do of Vertue; and did maintain, That there was as much Reputation and Honour to be got by doing wickedly, as by living according to the Rules of Religion. They do not pretend to ſhow, that ever Vice was ſupported by a Law as Vertue is, and Men were encouraged for the raiſing their Names, or eſtabliſhing a firm and laſting Peace in the World to let looſe the reins of their Paſſions, and to do all the miſchief and villainy in the World. No, inſtead of this, they content themſelves with the reports of two or three barbarous People, that have few Laws, and no Religion among them. Which is an Argument onely, that Humane Nature is capable of a ſad corruption; but not that it ever was ſo Univerſally depraved, as to leave no ſenſe of Religion among Men; or that all the World did ever live as thoſe of Soldania are ſaid to do. Would they prove any thing to the purpoſe, they ought to try if they can diſcover ſuch an Age, wherein all, or the greateſt part of Mankind, did make it a crime to fear God, or ſet as ill a character upon Vertue, as now it does upon Vice. But this is a task they do not ſo much as offer at: And they know too well, that, though Religion had been attacked by Enemies, that have been inquiſitive enough, yet it could never be made appear that Vice and Wickedneſs were ever in as great eſteem, and judged as uſefull to the World, as Vertue is; and that it was every whit as gracefull a thing to be intemperate and wanton, as to be ſober and chaſt; and as much for a Man's reputation to do violence and wrong, as to be kind and goodnatur'd. And whereas they would perſuade us, that this great Eſteem of Vertue is owing to the poſitive Laws of Kingdoms; this proves ſtill, that all the World is againſt them; and that it is the common Opinion of Mankind, that there ſhould be ſome bounds ſet to the Appetites and Paſſions of Men.

2. It is as plain too, That the reaſon, why all Men do agree, that there ſhould be ſuch bounds ſet us, is becauſe onely vertuous Actions do become us, and that all kind of Vice is unworthy of us. It is not true that the Laws of Kingdoms and States have made Juſtice and Righteouſneſs, Truth and Faithfulneſs, to be good and commendable things; or that by prohibiting Fraud and Cozenage, Oppreſſion and Violence, and the like Vices, they have ſet an ill character upon them. But, I am very confident, that they who argue thus, are not ſatisfied of the Truth of what they ſay; but that they are ſenſible there is ſo much lovelineſs in Religion, and miſchief in Vice; that if there were no Laws to cheriſh the one, and reſtrain the other, they would ſoon wiſh there were. Vertue then is not good, becauſe Humane Laws make it ſo; but Laws are made to enforce the practice of it, becauſe it is good. So that the reaſon of thoſe Laws, which oblige us to do Juſtice, and walk honeſtly, and which puniſh Craft and Knavery, is, Becauſe the Reaſon of Mankind is ſatisfied of the neceſſity of the former, and is againſt the latter. It is, becauſe Acts of Mercy and Goodneſs, and a ſtrict obſervance of the Rules of Righteouſneſs, have a natural tendency to promote the peace of the World, to beget mutual Love and Confidence among Men, and to make Society ſerviceable to our Intereſts: It is, becauſe they approve themſelves to the Minds and Conſciences of Men; and the contrary Practices appear loathſome and ſhamefull, and upon no account fit to be born with. For let us ſuppoſe that there was no ſuch thing as a Humane Law or Government in the World to forbid the doing ill, or to puniſh thoſe that do ſo; would all Men, when they were left to this liberty, alter their Judgments concerning the Nature of Good and Evil? Should we all begin to commend Intemperance and Injuſtice? as highly as we now do Juſtice and Temperance? Would our own Reaſons find nothing to blame us for, when for the ſatisfying a Paſſion we murder and burn, and do all the miſchief we poſſibly can, to any that have offended us? Or if for the gratifying an Appetite, we give our ſelves to the committing of Spoil and Havock, to Cheat and Cozen, and to Plunder and Steal? Or would our Conſciences bear no good Teſtimony to, or take no pleaſure in our Actions, when we keep our ſelves within the bounds of Reaſon and Vertue, and ſcorn to do an ill thing, though we were ſure there was no Law to puniſh us for it?

No, were there no Law to forbid us to do an ill action; yet Wickedneſs would be hatefull, and the World would ſee good reaſon to wiſh it were forbidden. Whether there were any Humane Law to bind us to the practice of Vertue, or to make it dangerous to commit a Villainy or no, yet the Natures of theſe things would be the ſame; i.e. Vice would be odious and loathſome, and Vertue the ſame gratefull thing to our Minds, and the ſame Ornament to our Heads, as it is: We ſhould ſtill bear about us the ſame Reaſon, upon which all Humane Laws are founded, and be ſenſible that we ought to be a Law to our ſelves.

And therefore the Wiſe-man always repreſents Vertue as comely in its own Nature, and Vice as a monſtrous deformed thing: And lays the reaſon of our practiſing the one in its native Beauty and Excellency, and of our avoiding the other in its Uglineſs and Baſeneſs. For thus he ſpeaks of Religion: She will give to thine head an ornament of grace; and a crown of glory ſhall ſhe deliver to thee, Prov. 4.9. And of Vice, That it is loathſome, and bringeth to ſhame, Prov. 13.5.

And thus have the Wiſe Heathens diſcours'd of theſe thing. Thus Hierocles makes Vice a Deviation from right Reaſon:In Car. Pyth. p. 77. Upon which account he requires us to have a great care to inform our ſelves of the decency of things, and to be ſure to moderate and reſtrain thoſe Faculties that are void of Reaſon, that they may be under the Command of Reaſon. So little did he think that our Appetites have as good a Right to givern us as our Reaſon. And ſo vaſtly different does he make Vertue and Vice to be,P. 177. that he ſtyles a Liſe of Vertue truly Divine; but that which is Vicious, beaſtial. And to prove that all Men are ſenſible, that there is ſuch a thing as right Reaſon, and do own the natural Turpitude of Wickedneſs;P. 106. he obſerves that the unjuſt Man does judge according to the Rules of Juſtice in thoſe Matters that do not concern himſelf, and the intemperate Man, temperately; and every wicked Man determines well, when he is not influenced by any Temptation, or byaſſed by a regard to his own Luſts. And Tully likewiſe obſerves the ſame thing, when he ſaith, That the which is decent and honeſt, does naturally pleaſe us, and has a ſtrange power to affect the Minds of all Men: So that we cannot but love, and have an inward Eſteem for thoſe perſons that are Eminent for Vertue. This is certainly the caſe as to all ill Men, who, as little favour as they have for Religion, do yet frequently commend the Vertues they want, and condemn their own Vices in other Men. So that it is plain, that Religion has the Teſtimony and good Opinion of all Men: And when they who are moſt averſe to the practice of it, do in innumerable caſes judge of things according to its Rules, and the Dictates of right Reaſon; when they, I ſay, expreſs ſuch an inward Senſe of its Excellency, that they cannot but acknowledge they indecency of their own Vices, when they ſee them in other Men; who can believe but that it has its Foundation in our very Nature?

CHAP. V. From thoſe Hopes and Fears, that poſſeſs Men upon their doing well or ill.

THE laſt Argument I ſhall make uſe of, for the proving Religion to be a thing, that our Nature teaches us, is, Becauſe Men that do well, do naturally hope for ſome good from their Actions; and, on the contrary, they that do ill, are as naturally afraid of ſome ill conſequences.

1. From the hopes of good Men, upon the account of the goodneſs of their Actions, we have reaſon to believe, there is a very great agreeableneſs of Religion to our Minds. Such is the gratefulneſs of a vertuous Converſation to our Minds; Such is the acquieſcence and pleaſure, that ariſes from Acts of Piety and Humanity, as diſcovers that we live according to the trueſt inſtincts of our Nature, when we reverence the Deity, and are juſt and charitable to Men. A good Man ſhall be ſatisfied from himſelf, ſaith the Wiſe-man, Prov. 14.14. i.e. The goodneſs of his Actions ſhall fill his Soul with joy and comfort, and afford him the trueſt pleaſure and moſt ſolid contentment.

And hence it is that he lives in a continued expectation of nothing but Good here, and leaves the World with a good Hope of a glorious Reward hereafter. The hope of the Righteous is gladneſs, ſaith the Wiſe-man, Prov. 10.28. He is not onely full of comfort upon the account of the Hope that is in him, but that which he hopes for from the Nature of his Actions, is ſuch an acceptableneſs both with God and Man, as is matter of great ſatisfaction to him. The fruit, that he expects from his labour, is Quietneſs and Aſſurance, Peace and Joy, becauſe he knows his Actionsare ſuch as cannot juſtly create him any Enemies; and which, he knows, God can no more be diſpleaſed with, that he can hate his own Perfections. But with a great deal of reaſon he looks for the favour and good-will of Men, toward whom he behaves himſelf according to the moſt obliging Principles. He expects that all Men ſhould know their own Intereſts ſo well, as not to be diſpleaſed with a Man, that is afraid of nothing more that of giving them any diſtaſt, and is onely thoughtfull how he may be a good Neighbour and a kind Friend to them. If they love not Religion, yet he knows they ought to love him, who makes Conſcience of his doings; becauſe they have no reaſon to apprehend an ill turn from ſuch a Neighbour. And the leſs reaſon he gives them to be offended with him, the leſs apprehenſive he is in himſelf of any knid of ill from them. He lives ſecure in himſelf; and is well perſuaded, that the goodneſs of his own Actions will protect him from all the ſpight and ill-nature of a corrupt World.

And as he has no reaſon to believe but his Actions will be well approved and liked of among Men, ſo he has infinitely more reaſon to expect, that the God whoſe Will he makes his Rule, and whoſe Perfections he honours, ſhould be favourable and good to him. There may be ſome reaſon to doubt, whether he ſhall at all times be ſo well treated in a World, where we ſee ſo much ingorance and folly, ſo much wickedneſs and ill-humour to prevail. But there is no reaſon to queſtion, whether a God of infinite Purity will take pleaſure in his own Perfections. Though Goodneſs has power enough to command reſpect from the worſt of Men, yet a Miſrepreſentation, or a Calumny, or the Evil bent of Men's corrupt inclinations, which does not always ſuffer them to ſpeak well of that Vertue, which they inwardly approve of, may diſappoint the good Man's Exectations of Favour and Good-will among Men. But there is nothing to hinder him from rejoycing, in hopes of favour and acceptance with God, whom he fears and reverences; becauſe infinite Wiſdom cannot be abuſed and impoſed upon by falſe ſurmiſes, nor infinite Goodneſs and Holineſs be ſpightfully inclined againſt a pure and holy Converſation.

This is ſo great a Truth, that bad Men oftentimes, by ſeeming to be what the Religious Man really is, do endeavour to ſecure to themſelves a ſhare in the good Man's Hope. Hence we read of the Hope of the Hypocrite; which though it be grounded onely upon a cheat and falſe ſhow; yet it is an argument, that he is perſuaded, that Religion is a ſure ground of a comfortable expectation. For why ſhould he be at the pains to diſguiſe himſelf, if there was no more reaſon to hope well from good and vertuous Actions, than from thoſe that are bad? And if Religion does beget ſuch a Hope, as no Man is aſhamed of; ſuch a Hope, as even wicked Men, by a counterfeit Piety, are deſirous to ſhare in; who can doubt of its agreeableneſs to our Minds? For why ſhould Men be better ſatisfied in themſelves, and have a better Hope from a ſober and temperate, a holy and upright Converſation, than from one, that is wicked and profligate, if the one has as juſt a Foundation in our Nature as the other?

2. If we conſider the Fears of ill Men, they will aſſure us, that there is a great deal of Truth and Reality in Religion. I do not ſuppoſe that every Man, that does wickedly, does immediately fall under the diſpleaſure of his Conſcience: For a long courſe in Sin will do much to turn Men into ſuch mere Brutes, as not to be capable of trembling at an Evil at a diſtance. But this is certainly true, that no Man can enter upon an Evil courſe, but his Conſcience will reluct and terrifie him with the ſenſe of his guilt, and frightfull apprehenſions of future wrath.

A future ſtate of Rewards and Puniſhments is indeed derided by the Enemies of Religion as an idle Tale of crafty Prieſts, that make uſe of it for the driving a Trade, and to awe the World into an unreaſonable Reſpect. So that to go about to prove Religion by the fears of ſomething hereafter, that poſſeſs Men, is, in their opinion, to prove one Cheat with another. We muſt therefore, they tell us, firſt prove there is ſuch a State, before we go about to eſtabliſh Religion by the Apprehenſions Men have of it. Now if this be true, How comes it to paſs that Men are more apprehenſive from their bad, than their good Actions? Whence is it that Men look pale, and are fill'd with Horrour and Anguiſh, when they do an ill thing, if there be not ſomething within them, that tells them, they have put themſelves into a great deal of Danger, and that they have done that, for which they muſt expect to be puniſhed? If we take away Religion, what account ſhall be given of that Perplexity and Trouble, that Fear and Diſquiet, that Dread and Terrour, that are the conſequences of Men's evil Actions? Religion, by acquainting us with another ſtate, where the moſt ſecret Crimes ſhall be expoſed and ſentenced, does furniſh us with a very good Reaſon for all this: But without Religion, no Reaſon can be given why Nature ſhould ſtartle within us, and fall into a kind of Convulſion, when we obey our Appetites, any more than when Reaſon does direct and rule us. Will any Man ſay, that all this ariſes from the ſeverity of thoſe Temporal Puniſhments wherewith Humane Laws do threaten Malefactors? This can be no ſufficient Reaſon;

1. Becauſe wicked Men are oftentimes ſcared at thoſe Crimes, which no Humane Law takes notice of. They often tremble at the illneſs of their own Thoughts, and ſtartle at the Wickedneſs they are meditating upon.

—Patitur poenas peccandi ſola voluntas. Nam ſcelus intra ſe tacitum qui cogitat ullum, Facti crimen habet.—

Men are conſcious to themſelves of thoſe firſt Inclinations of their Wills to do any Wickedneſs, which no Law can reſtrain; and yet though theſe expoſe not to the Wrath of the Magiſtrate, very bad Men do often want the courage to behold them: The Wickedneſs of their Wills does make them ſtagger; and while the Crime does lie within themſelves, their own Conſciences make them afraid. They ſuffer for the very Will to Sin; and the Wickedneſs of their Intentions are as terrible as the Fact. And this the ſame Poet does reſolve into thoſe natural Apprehenſions we have of a Deity, and the ſeverity of his Juſtice.

Non quaſi fortuitu, nec ventorum rabie, ſed Gratus cadat in terras, & vindicet ignis.

And it is ſure that ſuch a dread and aſtoniſhment is not to be accounted for from the apprehenſion of any Corporal puniſhment, that the Laws of Men can inflict; becauſe if therw was nothing elſe that they need to fear, there is no reaſon, that they ſhould fear or tremble at all, who have no Law to be afraid of. And beſides,

2. There are a great many Crimes that Humane Laws lay but a very light Puniſhment upon Men for. And yet as little as the Penalty is, and as beloved as the Vice, there are few ſo hardy as to ſtand to their Crimes when they are called to an account for them: But trifling excuſes are invented to palliate them; and many times the Anguiſh and Conſternation is as great, as if they were in danger of the moſt dreadfull Puniſhment, that the Law does inflict in any caſe. Add to this,

3. That there are ſome Crimes, that by the negligence of the Civil Magiſtrate, are ſeldom or never puniſh'd. And if it be onely the Power of the magiſtrate that is dreaded in this caſe, Men ought not to be afraid at all. For when they, who have the Power to puniſh, do not make uſe of their Power, ſuch a connivance does become a greater encouragement than their Power can be a terrour to Evil-doing. For at the utmoſt it can onely be a doubtfull thing, whether Crimes of this nature ſhall be puniſh'd: And thoſe who commit them have little cauſe of fear and perplexity, when it is, perhaps, a hundred to one, that they ſhall not be called to an account. Form Men never are very apprehenſive of a danger; where there is ſo much odds, that they ſhall eſcape it. And yet where there is ſo great a probability, that they may ſin ſafely enough, it is not a very eaſie thing for a Man to commit any ſuch wickedneſs. For though the Laws, that ſhould reſtrain him, are laid aſleep, yet his own Conſcience is awake: And though the negligence of the Magiſtrate emboldens him to deſpiſe the Reſtraints of the Law, yet his guilt does ſo much cow his ſpirits, that the rebukes of thoſe, that have no Authority over him, do beget recoilings in his Mind, and force him to pitifull ſhifts either to hide or extenuate his faults.

Exemplo quodcunque malo committitur, ipſi Diſplicet Authori: prima eſt hoec ultio, quòd ſe Judice, nemo nocens abſolvitur.

Every Sin that a Man commits is diſpleaſing to himſelf: And the firſt puniſhment, that he ſuffers, is this, That though no-body elſe judges and condemns him, he cannot abſolve himſelf. But,

4. It is a plain caſe, that the fears of wicked Men are owing to ſome other Cauſe than the Authority of the Civil Magiſtrate; becauſe they who have the greateſt Power are ſubject to them If indeed it was true, that their Fears did haunt chiefly the Cottages of the Poor, and that all the way we aſcend towards the Thrones of Princes, we found them to leſſen as Men are greater in Power, and quite to diſappear as ſoon as we enter into the Palaces of Princes, there would be ſome reaſon to believe, that Humane Laws did firſt lay them in our Minds. But the Caſe is not ſo; for Princes and all in Authority do as well feel the Force of them, as their meaneſt Subjects. As little reaſon as they have to dread the Authority, that is in their own hands, yet there is a ſenſe of guilt that Dogs, and laſhes them when-ever they do evil, as much as the Crimes of the pooreſt Beggar do him. And now what can ſuch Fears be reſolved into leſs than this, That Conſcience is the ſame thing in every Man, and has as much Power over a Prince as his Vaſſal? What leſs can we conclude from hence, but that there is in every Man's Mind a ſecret Senſe of the ill Deſert of a wicked Life? For if Religion be nothing, and Conſcience onely a Bugbear, why ſhould Men be more afraid, when they do ill than when they do well? Why ſhould we be ſo differently affected with our good or evil Actions; eſpecially when no Temporal Miſchief need to be fear'd from any Humane Power? If there was nothing more in Religion, than what Cuſtom or Humane Law have made it, the Vertuous would have little Cauſe to rejoyce in their doings upon this account, becauſe they many times are the leaſt favour'd, and have the leaſt benefit of Civil Laws: And, on the other hand, the wicked would have as little cauſe to fear, and to the pain'd in their Minds, becauſe few Crimes, beſides thoſe that are injurious to Men, are much taken notice of; and there are ways, by which mighty Offences, that are the moſt ſtrictly prohibited, go unpuniſh'd. But when after all this the Righeous rejoyce, and are full of Hope, and the wicked fear, and are as full of ſad apprehenſions, whence does this ariſe, but from ſomething within us, that tells us there is a God and a future State; and that Right and Wrong, Truth and Falſhood, Vertue and Vice, are things, that we ſhall find to be more than mere Names at the laſt.

CHAP. VI. The Concluſion.

I Have in this Diſcourſe endeavour'd to vindicate the Credit of Religion againſt thoſe, that maliciouſly report it to have no other foundation, but either the Craft and Policy of States-men, and the Credulity of ſimple People, or at beſt the Authority of Governours, who are ſuppoſed by their People's receding from their natural Right to have a Power given them to declare, what is juſt and right, and what is Injuſtice and Iniquity. And if Religion has ſuch a greal Foundation in our Nature, as the foregoing Arguments do certainly prove it has, 1. Let us enquire how it comes to paſs, that any Man can be an Enemy to it. 2. How great folly it is to neglect and deſpiſe it. 3. How much reaſon we have to live in the conſtant practice of it.

1. Upon what reaſon it is that any Man can be an Enemy to it. For it may as ſoon be expected, that a Man ſhould be an Enemy to himſelf, and contemn the beſt Powers of his Nature, and believe, that he himſelf is the greateſt Cheat in the World, as that he ſhould believe, that That, which has ſo near a relation to, and perfect agreement with the Frame of his Nature, ſhould be ſo. And indeed, if we conſider the Grounds and Principles that they go upon, it is but too plain, that they do not remember, that they are Men, when they endeavour to over-throw the Truth and Reality of Religion: For either they conſider themſelves to be nothing more than material Beings, and to have nothing better than a Body to provide for; or if thoſe Thoughts and Reaſonings, thoſe Reflections and other internal Operations which we are ſenſible of, and which cannot be accounted for from ſo dull and inſenfible a Principle as Matter is, do force 'em to acknowledge, that there is ſomething in us, that is not Matter; yet they maintain, that the Body is as conſiderable a part of us as the Soul; and that our bodily Appetites have naturally as good a Right to govern us, as our Reaſons. So that although the ſpight of theſe Men does not go upon the ſame Principles, yet it is in both equally miſchievous, and has a reſpect to the ſame ill Ends, which is the ſupporting the intereſts of the Fleſh, and the ſerving our Luſts. The former indeed goes more roundly to work, and by a pointblank denial of his own Immortality leaves himſelf no other happineſs, but what conſiſts in bodily Enjoyments: And the latter, though he does allow of a Principle in us, that diſpoſes us for Religion, yet does meet him in the ſame point, when he gives as good a Right in Nature to our bodily Appetites to govern us, as to our Reaſon. For it is not in favour to Reaſon, that he allows it a room in our Nature, ſince it would be all one to us if we had no Reaſon at all, if it may not command us. And what ſignifies a diſpoſition to Religion, upon the account of the Reaſon that is in us, if we may, without incurring any guilt, deſpiſe both Reaſon and Religion upon the account of an equal Authority, that our bodily Appetites hav eto rule us? Does it not as much over-throw Religion to give ſuch an Authority to our Appetites, as to deny all the Principles of it? And does not the ſetting our Appetites at liberty, from the Reſtrains of Religion, imply a very great tenderneſs to our Bodies? What leſs can be ſuppoſed to lie at the bottom of ſuch Diſcourſes, as tell us, That though our Nature does diſpoſe us to Religion, as we are reaſonable Creatures, it does as much diſpoſe us the other way, as we have fleſhly Appetites planted in us And that upon this account, he who obeys his Appetites, has as good a Right to do ſo, as he who obeys his Reaſon; ſo that in our natural State we cannot conceive any ſuch thing as Sin, or a God to Judge and Puniſh us for it. What I ſay can lie at the bottom of ſuch horrid Diſcourſes, but a palpable deſign to ſerve the Intereſts of our Luſts. And indeed it is no great wonder, that Men, that have ſo much kindneſs to their Bodies, ſhould endeavour to weaken the Power, and be ſpightfull againſt the Intereſts of Religion. Let them pretend a concern to free us from Prejudices and Pre-poſſeſſions as much as they pleaſe, and a deſign to reſtore our Nature to its true and native Liberty, 'tis obvious enough, that all the Liberty they aim at, is to be Vicious, and to live as much without Reaſon, as if they did really believe they had none. For why ſhould they contend for the Freedom of our Appetites from the Reſtraints of Reaſon, if they did not much more favour their Bodies than their Souls, and had not a greater liking to a Life of Senſe than Reaſon? 'Tis a plain caſe, that they are Enemies to the Obligations of Religion for no other reaſon, but becauſe they love their Luſts too well to have them check'd, and have ſtronger Inclinations to do wickedly, than to live well. And therefore it is objected againſt Religion, that it is an utter Enemy to all the delights of the Body, and lays this part of us under ſuch ſeverities and hardſhips, as are no ways conſiſtent with the Happineſs of a Man. The meaning of which is, that they are Enemies to Religion, becauſe it is an Enemy to an unreaſonable way of living; and condemn its Reſtraints, becauſe it condemns the Licentiouſneſs of our Luſts. And if this be a juſt Reaſon to except againſt Religion, it is every-whit as juſt to quarrel with our own Nature, and to account it an unhappineſs, that we are not Beaſts. So that,

2. It is a very great folly to deſpiſe or neglect Religion. For we cannot do this but to our own infinite hurt and miſchief. It is to neglect the beſt means of ſatisfying all the deſires of our Nature, and of putting our ſelves into that eaſie ſtate, which every Men wiſhes and longs for. It is to hurl the greateſt contempt upon our Underſtandings, and to perſuade the World, that it is no advantage to us, that we are Men. It is to make Reaſon a uſeleſs Faculty to us, and the ſame thing as to wiſh we had been made Fools and Idiots. But more particularly, 1. It is to do the greateſt miſchief to the Soul. 2. To the Body. And he who can be ſuch an Enemy to himſelf, does deſerve the Character of a Fool.

1. It is to do the greateſt miſchief to the Soul. This indeed the Enemies of Religion are not very ſenſible of, but they are never the wiſer Men for that; no more than a Man in a Lethargy, who feels nothing, can be ſaid to enjoy the beſt health. The ſtupidity of theformer is as ill a ſymptom of the dangerous condtion of the Soul, as the inſenſibility of the latter is of the bad ſtate of the Body. It is a conſiderable part of that miſchief that Men do their Souls by the neglect of Religion, that they ſin away that tenderneſs of their Conſciences, whereby they ſhould feel that hurt they do themſelves. And therefore the Holy Scriptures do repreſent the caſe of thoſe Men as deſperate, and report them as perſons given over and paſt cure, who are paſt feeling.

It is not then from what they averr, that we are to judge whether a ſinfull contempt of Religion be miſchievous or no, any more than we would conclude from the frantick Expreſſions of a Man in a Fever, that ſhall tell us he feels himſelf well, that he really is ſo; but from the ill ſymptoms of a great diſorder in his Soul, that diſcover the illneſs of his ſtate. Now it is too viſible that every wicked Man, by neglecting Religion, does lay all waſt within him. He injures his Mind by neglecting thoſe improvements it is capable of, and is as cruel to his Soul as he would be judg'd to be to his Body, ſhould he neglect thoſe refreſhments, that are needfull to keep it in repair. For Religion is the ſame to the Soul, as food is to the Body; and the former is ſubject to the ſame Waſtings and Languiſhings without Vertue, as the latter is without Meat and Drink. And it is every abvious, that this is the caſe of every wicked Men, when he lives, as if he had nothing but a lump of Fleſh to provide for. He has confumed his Soul, as it were, to nothing, ſo that he is no more ſenſible that there is any fuch Principle in him. The great and noble Faculties thereof have no life of their own left in him, but all the ſpirit that moves and animates them is derived from his Senſes. So that all his Reaſonings reſpect onely the Welfare of his Body; and the unmoſt uſe he makes of his Underſtanding, is generally to know how he may eat and drink well.

But this is not the onely Miſchief that comes to the Soul by the neglect of Religion; but when a Man has once laid this aſide, he parts with the beſt Ornament of his Head, and the moſt gracefull Dreſs that his Soul can be in. He then begins to take his leave of the Nature and Spirit of a Man, and to put on that of a Beaſt; to loſe his own upright Poſture, and to ſtoop his Soul to the groveling ſhape of a Brute. He parts with the natural Order and Beauty of his Soul, and turns himſelf into the moſt deformed Monſter. For it is not ſo much againſt Nature to ſee a Man's Body turned upfide-down, as to ſee the Faculties of his Soul diſplaced: His underſtanding and Reaſon, which are his head Faculties, trampled under the Feet of his Luſts, and a vile Appetite made to reign in the room of Reaſon.

And yet this is not all, for by the neglect of Religion, Men treaſure up Wrath and Vexation to themſelves, and do ſuch things as eſtrange them from, and made them aſhmaed to know themſelves. And it muſt needs be ſo, becauſe they ae as unnatural to their own Minds, as he would be to his Body, who ſhould refuſe to breath the Air he lives in. They neglect to cultivate their Souls, but ſuffer them to go ſo much out of Order, that like him that has been careleſs and negligent in his Buſineſs ſo long, that he has run out of all, they dare not take a view of their own Condition. And ſurely it is an Argument, that they are very ſenſible of the Miſchief, they have done themſelves, that to avoid the Vexation it would give them, they are forced to avoid their own Converſation, and are as much afraid of appearing in their own right, as a bankrupt Perſon is to meet his Creditor. And what greater Folly can a Man be guilty of, than by his own Careleſneſs to hurl himſelf into ſuch a Condition, as leaves him neither Wit nor Will to remedy it. But becauſe this is a matter the wicked Men ſeem not very ſenſible of: I come to conſider,

2. How much miſchief they do to their Bodies and their Temporal Concerns, thoſe great Idols, that wicked Men have a particular Veneration for. And if I can make it appear, that they neglect the beſt means of promoting thoſe Intereſts which they are chiefly concern'd for, and for the ſake of which they chuſe to deſpiſe Religion, it will be a Demonſtration of ſuch Weakneſs and Folly, as ought to ſhame them for ever. For the Folly of a Man does never appear more ſhamefull, than when he ſhows himſelf unskilfull in the Management of thoſe Affairs, that he pretends to be moſt knowing in. Now this is the Caſe of every wicked Man. He renounces Religion as an Enemy to our Bodies and fecular Aſſairs, and pretends that the way of Life that he hath choſen, does the beſt of all others conduce to a happy and comfortable Life. Though they have no Concern at all for their Souls, yet they proſeſs, to have a great Tenderneſs for their Bodies; that they have no other End but to make their Lives eaſie and pleaſant; and that the Ground of their quarrel with Religion is, becauſe it abridges them in their Pleaſures, and deprives us of the Comforts of this Life, by not ſuffering us to make thoſe Proviſions for the Fleſh as are neefull thereto. So that in his Caſe they pretend to have weigh'd things with the greateſt Exactneſs, and glory in it as a Mark of their Wiſdom, that they have found out the true way of living happily. And it muſt be acknowledged, that if while Religion furniſhes the Mind with Wiſdom and Vertue, it did take no care of our Bodies, there would be ſome reaſon to reject it; becauſe it could not be ſaid to be ſufficient for the Happineſs of a Creature made up of Fleſh, as well as Spirit. But if it be quite otherwiſe than as they report, the more Judgment they pretend to have made uſe of, the more groſs is their Miſtake, and the more palpable their Folly in chuſing to live otherwiſe than Religion preſcribes.

And that this is the very Truth of the matter will appear; if we conſider, 1. What is requiſite for the promoting our Temporal Aims. 2. What for the ſecuring the Health and Vigour of our Bodies.

1. What is requiſite for the promoting our Temporal Aims. And one of the firſt things, that every Man reſolves on to this purpoſe, is to gain a good Intereſt, and to ſettle a good Correſpondence among Men. For without this, we ſhall often-times find our ſelves perplexed with ſuch Difficulties, as neither our own Wit nor Induſtry can over-come. So that that Courſe of Life which tends to diſguſt and alienate the Minds of thoſe, whom we muſt in innumerable Caſes depend upon, is ſo little for our Advantage, that it is not our Wiſdom to make choice of it. And this is the unhappy Condition of thoſe that throw off all reſpect to Religion. For they thereby reject thoſe Succours of Providence, that are of abſolute Neceſſity for the ſucceeding our Endeavours. They ſlight that Wiſdom that is beſt able to direct their Paths; and that Goodneſs, which is the beſt Refuge we have in any Extremity. Neither is this all; for he, who looks upon himſelf to be under no obligations to Religion, muſt likewiſe believe, that no Man is under any obligation to love and reſpect him, to repoſe any Confidence in, or to hold any Correſpondence or Converſation with him. For 'tis onely Religion by obliging us to be true and faithfull, juſt and honeſt, kind and charitable, does lay that Foundation of Reſpect and Truth, which is neceſſary to Converſation. And there is no Man can break with theſe Vertues, but he muſt bring upon himſelf the Scorn and Contempt of all Mankind. And,

2. For the ſecuring that Health and Vigour, without which it cannot be ſaid to be well with our Bodies. It is neceſſary, 1. That we content our ſelves with ſuch a uſe of thoſe things as our Appetites crave, as is not burthenſome and uneaſie to Nature. 2. Such a uſe as ſuppoſes them not to be fully ſatisfactory to us.

1. That we content our ſelves with ſuch a uſe of bodily Enjoyments, as is not burthenſome and uneaſie to Naturre. For when-ever we exceed in the uſe of thoſe refreſhments, that our Bodies need, inſtead of ſupporting Nature we weaken and deſtroy it. So that he who blames Religion upon the Account of thoſe reſtraints it lays upon us, tells the World that he does not know what is good for him. He cries out upon Religion as an Enemy to our Bodies, and would perſuade us, that is ſuffers us not to take the beſt care of our ſelves we can, to make our Lives chearfull and pleaſant: And yet if you ask him what kind of pleaſure it forbids us the Enjoyment of, or in what reſpect it requires us to be negligent of our Bodies, he can make no Anſwer to this, but by inſtancing in ſuch a uſe of thoſe things that are gratefull to our Bodies, as is really hurtfull and miſchievous to it. The Summ of all his Complaints is this, That it ſuffers him not to eat and drink to exceſs, or to let his Appetites grow ſo extravagant, that nothing can ſatisfie them: That it ſuffers him not to over-charge Nature, and thereby to load his Body with Loathings and Diſeaſes. And what is this but the Complaint of a Fool, who neither knows how to chuſe well for himſelf, nor is capable of being inſtructed?

2. With ſuch a uſe as does not ſuppoſe the things we now need to be in their own Nature ſatisfactory. I do not ſuppoſe, that we are miftaken, when we account the Creatures, that God has made for oour Support and Comfort, to be good for us; and thoſe Earthly Delights, that our Senſes affect, to be deſigned as Entertainments to us, while we are in the Fleſh, nor does Religion blemiſh them, as if they were not: But we certainly miſtake in the uſe of them, when we purſue them with that Eagerneſs, as if we could never have enough of them. For by ſuch an Enlargement of our Deſires, we really diſcredit them, and do as good as tell the World, that in the Enjoyment we find nothing of that good in them, that we expected: And beſides, by ſuch an exceſſive Appetite after, and purſuit of them, we do that Injury to our Senſes, as renders them leſs capable of taſting the Sweet that is in them. For conſider the Man whoſe mind is wholly bent upon heaping up Riches, or who gives himſelf up to a voluptuous ſenſual way of living, and you will find, that he enjoys leſs of that good, that is in Earthly Poſſeſſions and bodily Pleaſures, than he who takes care to moderate his Appetites. For whereas, he who takes this way to ſatisfie his Deſires, does really taſt all the good that is in Enjoyments of this Nature, and does always maintain that Livelineſs and Vigour in his ſenſitive Appetites, which is requiſite to the true Pleaſure of the Body: He who is always troubled with worldly SOlicitudes, and lets his Deſires out-go his Enjoyments, is not any time at leiſure to taſt the Fruits of his Labour. He does not believe the ſatisfaction he looks for is to be found in any thing he has, but in ſomething that he wants. And therefore in the midſt of all that he enjoys, he is full of wants and diſſatisfactions, and what-ever he acquires gives him no eaſt. And thus it will be with him, ſhould he lay Houſe to Houſe, and Field to Field, till he had got the whole World into his Hands.

And thus it is as to worldly Delights: The ſenſual Man, who believes that the onely Happineſs of Humane Life, does conſiſt in bodily Delights, does taſt the leaſt of that Pleaſure, that he magniſies ſo much. For by going beyond that Meaſure of Enjoyment, which is gratefull to Nature, he waſts his Spirits, tires Nature, dulls his Senſes, and renders them unfit for any quick Perception. There is no bodily Pleaſure, but by being too long enjoy'd does grow nauſeous, and makes the Appetite it ſhould gratifie, ſick and uneaſie. So that it is plain, that if we would enjoy the ſatisfaction, that is in bodily Delights, if we would reap the Benefit of our Poſſeſſions, and feel the Pleaſure, that is in ſenſual Gratifications; we muſt moderate our Appetites as Religion requires, and ſtop there where Nature does. And now the Folly of thoſe, that deſpiſe Religion, and except againſt thoſe reſtraints, it lays upon us, does appear in this; That they are ſo little acquainted with the Natures of things, as to expect more from them, than they can poſſibly find in them. They have not Judgment enough to diſcern that they diſappoint themſelves of that Pleaſure, they love and are ſo found of by ſuffering their Appetites to crave beyond meaſure: nor to apprehend, that inſtead of refreſhing and maintaining the Health of their Bodies, their immoderate Uſe of ſenſitive Enjoyments does conſume and deſtroy it. And this Folly they are ſo fond of, that they will not hear of a Remedy, but quarrel with Religion for endeavouring to put them in a way to compaſs the End they aim at. Tis the Health of the Body, and the prolonging our Lives, the Pleaſure and Satisfaction of our Senſes, that Religion aims at, when it forbids thoſe Exceſſes of Senſuality and Voluptuouſneſs, which impair Nature, and deſtroy the Vigour of Men's Conſtitutions, and certainly kill more than any Judgment God does puniſh Mankind with; and preſcribes thoſe Rules of Temperance and Moderation, both in the Uſe of our Appetites, and all the other Refreſhments, that belong to our Bodies, by which the weakeſt Conſtitutions are often enabled to out laſt the ſtrongeſt; and yet theſe Men, that love their Bodies ſo tenderly are ſuch Fools, as to blame Religion for all this. They would have Health and a long Life, and be as free from Pain and Uneaſineſs, as it is poſſible for Man to be in ſuch a Life as this is, and yet they have not the Wit to diſcern that they take a Courſe, that thwarts their Devices, when they neglect Religion; and that they are extremely beholding to Religion for giving them thoſe Rules, without which they can never long enjoy, what they would have. If it be an Argument of Folly not to know how to adapt means ſuitable to the Ends we aim at, the wicked irreligious Man muſt paſs for the verieſt Fool that is, for living as he does, when it is the Welfare of his Body, that he pretends to aim at. If he be wiſe in the Choice of his End, he can never avoid the Imputation of Folly for living otherwiſe, than according to the Rules of Temperance and Moderation, that Religion gives. Neither is it in the Opinion of all that know him onely, that he is guilty of ſo much Weakneſs and Folly, but his own Thoughts do upbraid him with it, when a ſurfeited Body does force him to ſubmit to thoſe very Rules as reaſonable and juſt, which at other times he condemns as rigid and ſevere. As much as he cries out upon Religion for impoſing them, he has nothing to except againſt them, when they are preſcribed by his Phyſician. And how prepoſterouſly does this Man act in deſpiſing thoſe Reſtraints, when put upon him for preſerving his Body healthfull and vigorous, which he flies to as the onely means to reſtore it, when it is decayed? He out of a tender regard to his Body, does check his Appetites, when it is for the Recovery of his loſt Health, and believes he cannot take a better Courſe for the freeing himſelf from the Languiſhings of a Surfeit and a Debauch, and yet he pretends it is out of love to his Body, that he lets his Appetites looſe, when he is in health. So that this Man has no other way to prove himſelf no Fool, but by ſatisfying the World how that way of Life can be unreaſonable, which he believes is good for his Botly, or that good for his Body which he himſelf is forced to condemn as hurtfull to him. And now,

3. How much Reaſon have we to think well of, and to live in a conſtant Practice of Religion? For this is to live according to the proper inſtincts of, and to take an Account of our Duty from our Nature. 'Tis the Buſineſs we are in a peculiar manner framed for, and in our regard to which we give Honour to our Reaſon, and conſult our greateſt good. We ought from the Dignity of Nature, ſaith Hierocles, to take an Account of our Duty,In Carm. Pyth. p. 93. and to weigh how we ought to act and ſpeak. And again: It is from the Ignorance of our Nature, that all kind of Evil breaks in upon us: So that if we know our ſelves, and reject thoſe things, that are a Reproach to our Reaſon, we judge rightly of our Duty: 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , ſaith Epictetus. Arrian. Lib. 2. Chap. 8. Thou art a Principal part of God's Handywork, thou art ſomething taken from God Himſelf, thou haſt ſome Part of God in thee. Why therefore art thou not mindfull of thy Nobility? Why doſt thou not conſider from whence thou comeſt? When thou eateſt or ſpeakeſt, wilt thou not remember, who thou art, that eateſt, and whom thou feedeſt, that thou nouriſheſt a God, and carrieſt a God about with thee. If thou waſt a Statue carved by the Hand of Phidias, when thou conſidereſt whoſe Work thou waſt (if thou couldeſt know it) thou wouldeſt endeavour to do nothing unworthy, either of ſo famed an Artiſt, or of thy ſelf; nor wouldeſt thou be ſeen in an undecent Garb by thoſe, that ſhould behold thee. And ſince thou art the Workmanſhip of God, wilt thou take no care of thy ſelf? God has committed thee to thy own Care, neither did he know of any, that would be more faithfull to ſuch a Truſt. Be ſure, ſaith he, to preſerve this Depoſitum, ſuch as it is, in its own Nature. 'Tis then by having a Recourſe to our own Nature, that we muſt learn the way of Life, that we are framed for: And ſince Religion has ſuch a near Relation to us, that without it our beſt Faculties are of little or no Uſe to us; and in ſpight of our natural Depravity, we cannot but deſire, that all the Principles thereof were true, and its Duties put in practice, who can doubt but that this ought to be the Buſineſs of our Lives? It is that Buſineſs by which we muſt gratifie our Reaſons, and improve our Minds, and delight our Conſciences: And if this ought not to be our Buſineſs, why have we ſuch Faculties as require it? It is as neceſſary, that we live in the Practice of Religion, as that we live like Men, and diſcover a Difference between a Man and a Beaſt. He hath ſhewed thee, O man, what is good, and what does the Lord require of thee. i.e. Since God has diſplay'd more of his Goodneſs to thee, than to the Creatures of Senſe, what is it that he expects from thee, but to do Juſtice, to love Mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God, Micah 6. 8. And hence it is, that Lactantius makes the Difference between a Man and a Beaſt to conſiſt in this, that we are capable of Religion, and they are not. For, ſaith he, take away Religion and Righteouſneſs,De Ira Dei c. 12. and Man degenerates to the Folly of a Brute, or which is worſe, having loſt his Reaſon, to their Immanity and Fierceneſs. And he tells us, that the Heathens, although they miſtook in the Object of their Worſhip,Inſtit. l. 2. c. 3. yet did acknowledge the chief Duty of Man to lie in Religion, by maintaining an Appearance of it in their falſe Worſhip; becauſe the Chief, if not the onely Difference between Man and a Brute does lie in Religion.

This then is the onely calling in the World, that every Man is bound to follow, and which will find a full Imployment for all our Heads, and Hearts, and Hands, every Man, of what Quality or Condition ſoever he is, is indiſpenſibly bound to fear God and keep his Commandments. Neither need any Man fear, that he ſhall debaſe himſelf thereby: For as Reaſon is the Nobleſt faculty of his Nature, there is nothing ſo fit for his Reaſon to converſe with, as Religion. Now this can be ſaid of no other Calling beſide: For although the Benefit of every Man's ſecular Imployment, does reach to the whole Society; yet if every Man was of one Calling, no body would be the better for it, and the beſt is and Imployment of that Nature, as will find Work for the Souls and Bodies of every Man, and which the more it is practiſed by every Man, the better it is for all the World. Nay, further, it is a Calling, that every Man muſt manage in his own Perſon, or elſe neither he will receive any benefit by it, nor the World by him. 'Tis poſſible, that any of thoſe ſecular Callings, that are for the Relief of our preſent Neceſſities, may be managed by other Heads and Hands than our own; and although a Man be wholly careleſs himſelf, yet his Affairs may thrive in the Hands of a truſty and faithfull Servant, But as to Religion, it is of that Concernment to us, that it is impoſſible any Man ſhould improve in it, or be the better for it, who does not take it into his own Hands, and give all Diligence to make his Calling and Election ſure. There is no qualifying our ſelves for Heaven by a Proxy, no adorning our Souls by the Vertues and Graces of a Friend or a Servant, no ſatisfying God for the Neglect of our Duty by the Merits of a Saint; but either we muſt labour for our ſelves, and be induſtrious to add to our Faith all the Vertues of Religion, or the Nakedneſs and Poverty of our Souls will be our everlaſting Shame.

And what is it, that we will be induſtrious in, if not in that Imployment, which God has made us for, and which we muſt live and proſper Eternally by? Is there any thing, that it can with more Reaſon be expected, that we ſhould be diligent in than our own Buſineſs? Or is there any Affair more preſſing and urgent upon us, any that it half ſo much concerns us to attend to, as that upon which the Honour of our Nature, and the well being both of our Souls and Bodies, both in this Life, and that which is to come depends? To ſay of any thing that it is our Buſineſs does imply, that we are fitted and deſigned for it, that we throughly underſtand the Myſteries of it, and that we husband our time, as well as we can, in proſecuting the great Ends of it. This we know, is the meaning of our having any thing for our Imployment: And if it be Religion alone, that our Reaſon has a reſpect to, this ought to be as much our Imployment, as any of thoſe Callings, whereby we maintain our Mortal lives.

And were we but as ſenſible of the Neceſſity and great Concernment of our Spiritual, as we are of our Temporal Affairs; what Noble Improvements might we make, what Treaſures might we lay up in Heaven, and what excellent Perſons ſhould we make our ſelves: How little Prophaneneſs and Debauchery, how few Tricks and crafty Devices. How little Strife and Contentious Animoſities would trouble the World? Nay, how much would the fear of God then influence us, and the conſideration of his Preſence and Majeſty awe and make us afraid of offending him? How ſhould we court his Favour, by frequenting the place where his Honour dwells, and by paying a due veneration and regard to every thing, that has a relation to him; by honouring his Sabbaths, revering his Word, and in Supplication and Prayer by expreſſing our dependance upon him? With how much Love and Good-nature, Simplicity and Integrity, Juſtice and Honeſty, Faith and Truth would Men converſe with each other, and how much of Heaven ſhould we have here below? We daily ſee, how induſtrious Men, that deſign to live, and make themſelves uſefull Members in a Society are in managing their affairs; when any buſineſs is before us, with what care and thoughtfulneſs do we contrive and project the compaſſing it to our advantage? And when we have the proſpect of ſome gain before us, how little do we grudge the pains and labour, the difficulties and hardſhips it puts us to? We then ſit up late, and riſe early, and neither dread ill ways nor hard weather, but with a great deal of chearfulneſs undertake tireſome Journeys and dangerous Voyages for the ſake of the advantage we have in our Eye. All this we do and ſuffer for the ſake of our Bodies: And did we love our Souls as well, we ſhould be as hearty in the practice of all the Duties of Religion.

And for the better promoting ſo good a work, let us conſider theſe Two things:

1. That Religion is the eaſieſt Employment we have. It will, 'tis true, take up all our Time, and employ all our Faculties, but it will never be a burden to us. Men, that favour their Luſts, may complain of difficulties; and 'tis certain, that Religion is ſevere enough upon the Luſts of our Fleſh, which it commands us to crucifie and deſtroy. But all this implies no more than this, That it is a difficult, yea, an impoſſible thing for Men, that ſerve their Luſts, to ſerve the living God. But after all, let but any Man conſider the Nature of all the Duties of Religion, and he will find ſuch a gratefulneſs of them to the Reaſon of his own Mind, ſo much comfort and ſatisfaction to his Conſcience to iſſue from them, as will force him to declare that it is the beſt and eaſieſt, the moſt delightfull and ingenuous Employment, that a Man can poſſibly take to: For it commands us to do nothing, but what our own Reaſon does; and to avoid nothing, but what our own Conſciences abhorr. And is it a hard thing for a Man to live according to the Laws of his own Mind, and to follow the Dictates of his own Conſcience, and in all he does to conſider, that he is a Man, and that his own Reaſon ought to govern him? Is it a grievous thing for a Man not to wound his Conſcience, not to fill his Soul with vexation, and horrour? Is it, I ſay, an uneaſie Employment to take care, that there be nothing in our Converſation, but what is gracefull and comely, what will render us beloved of God and Man, and what will fill us with joy unſpeakable? Surely if any thing be eaſie for us to do, it is that, which we are peculiarly made for, and which the joy and comfort, the eaſe and ſatisfaction, the pleaſure and happineſs of our whole Nature depends on.

2. That it will be infinitely ſatisfactory to us at the laſt to conſider, that we have been employ'd in the buſineſs of our lives. The time will come, when we ſhall know that Religion is our buſineſs: That time, I mean, when we ſhall ſo far return to our ſelves, as to be ſenſible, that we are ſomething more than Brutes, and that our Happineſs does not lie in the gratifying the Appetites of a mortal Body: And then when thoſe, that have been negligent and careleſs of every thing but a Body, that is going to its Grave, will be ſeiz'd with ſad remorſe, and fill'd with confuſion, the Religious Man will look over a well-ſpent Life with great content and delight. Surely St. Paul felt a wonderfull ſatisfaction in his Mind, when he could ſay, I am ready to be offer'd, and the time of my departure is at hand: I have fought the good fight, I have finiſhed my courſe, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a Crown of Righteouſneſs, which the Lord the righteous Judge will give me at the laſt day, 2 Tim. 4.6, 7, 8. This is the comfortable iſſue of a Religious Life: It gives a Man peace at the laſt; and having all his time been well employ'd in the Duties of his Calling, he has no ſorrowfull Reflections to make, but nothing elſe to do but to die, and to receive his reward. But with wicked Men it is quite otherwiſe: For they have all their buſineſs lying upon their hands, when they are called upon to bring in their accounts. And how uncomfortable a thing will it be then to them, to conſider how much work they have made themſelves, by fixing ill Habits in their Minds, and turning their whole Nature out of courſe by accuſtoming themſelves to do Evil? How dolefull a thing to look upon the diſorders of their Souls, the waſt of their Time, their abuſe of Grace, and, above all, their contempt of thoſe fair warnings, that have been given them? Then will their Hell begin, when they ſee their Souls ſo eaten out of heart with Sin, that they neither have Skill nor Time to remedy it. Let us then be ſo wiſe as to prevent all this miſchief, by making uſe of Time and Opportunity, and working while it is day, that when the night comes, wherein no Man can work, we may not be found barren and unfruitfull. I ſhall conclude this Diſcourſe with St. Peter's Exhortation, 2 Epiſt. 1.10, 11. Wherefore the rather, or above all things, Brethren, give diligence to make your calling and election ſure: For if ye do theſe things, ye ſhall never fall: For ſo an entrance ſhall be miniſtred unto you abundantly into the everlaſting Kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jeſus Chriſt.