MAſter Peacock, the ſervant of God, in the beginning of his viſitation, for the ſpace of two weeks and foure dayes, was full of moſt Heavenly conſolations; ſhewing by ſweet meditations, and gracious ejaculations, the entertainment he found with his God in his ſicknes, with whom he ſo much deſired to be acquainted in his health. We are (ſaith one comming to viſit him) miſerable comforters. Nay (ſaith he) Ye are good, for this is the priviledge even of Gods children, that their very preſence affords comfort. Sometimes h • craved pardon for his actions, & for the circumſtances by them badly obſerved: otherwhile h • deſired to have ſome matter given him to meditate upon. Finally he ſaid, his hope was firmly ſetled on the rock Chriſt Jeſus He hoped that the Lord woul • give him a place, though it wer • in the loweſt room of his Saints And he thanked God he had n • trouble of conſcience, the Lor • did not ſuffer Satan to vex him In ſo much that ſome ſeeing hi • great comfort, feared leſt h • would be overtaken with ſorrow before his death: he much rejoyced that the Lord had ſo diſpoſed of him, that he had ſee • his friēds in the Countrey. Her • firſt was his yeelding unto deat • ſuſpected, and his hoped reco • ery doubted. Calling ſome of • is friends aſide, I thought (ſaith • e) I had been in a good eſtate, but 〈◊〉 ſee it now farre otherwiſe: For • heſe things my conſcience layes a • ainst me: Firſt, I brought up my • cholars in Gluttony, letting thē eat • heir fill of meat, when they mealed • ith me. This ſome endeavoured • o pull out, by putting into his minde, 1. The preventing of ma • y inconveniencies. 2. His well known moderation. 3. The great care he took for good conference, when they were at table with him. But (ſaith he) while I was talking, they did undoe themſelves. And further, I did unadviſedly expound places of Scripture at the table many times; and for theſe I feel now a Hell in my conſcience. Again, I have procured my own death, by often eating like a beaſt, when I came juſtling up and dow • to my friends in the Countrey; An • now I ſee before my face thoſe diſ • es of meat wherewith I clogged m • ſtomack. Well (ſaith one to him If all the things you accuſe you ſelf of were undone, would yo • doe them again? Nay: why the • doubt not but a Reprobate woul • deſire to be ſaved, if a deſire woul • ſerve the turne: indeed he ma ••• have a deſire, but of bare willingnes, not with an intent an • purpoſe in uſing of the means Another time a worthy friend o • his asking him how he did: h • cryed out, Sinne, Sinne, Sinne What doth any lye on your conſcience? Yea. What? My unconſideratenes, I did eat too much of ſuc • meat to breakfaſt ſuch a morning 〈◊〉 my ſelf being an eye-witnes o • his great abſtinence, could no • chooſe but admire the tenderne • • f his ſelf-accuſing conſcience. Well (ſaid he) God be thanked • here is no greater. As we muſt • ot extenuate our ſinnes, ſo nei • her muſt we too much aggra • ate our ſinne. Let drunkards • nd gluttons have thoſe terrible • orrours. I thank God I never con • inued in any known ſinne againſt my conſcience. He was willing that he ſhould pray with him: kneeling down he ſaid, he was • hen uncapable of prayers. Afterward he kneeled down of his • own accord: ſhortly after he • roke out into ſuch ſpeeches, A damnable, wretched &c. theſe are nor your words (ſaith one) you cannot deny but you have had good experience of Gods mercies. I cannot. Then be comforted, for whom he loveth once, he loveth to the end. Yet Satan took ſuch advantage of his infirmities, that though he could finde ſome comfort, yet no particular aſſurance. You have lived profitably (ſaid one) I have endeavoured. You are now humbled, and the Lord looks that you ſhould ask mercy. M. Dod was ſent for, who being come, they were private awhile, afterwards we comming in to them, M. Dod put him in minde of Gods kindenes: whereof he ſhewed to him foure parts. 1. To take ſmall things in good part. 2. To paſſe by infirmities. 3. To be eaſily intreated. 4. To be intreated for the greateſt.

Sir, there is now in you the image of the old Adam, ſin and ſorrow: there ſhall be in you the image of the new, holines and happineſſe. The life to come may be ſet out by three things. 1. The eſtate of it ſelf, happines, holines, and glory. 2. By the 〈◊〉 company, every one ſhall •• e you better then any one, e •• n the beſt, can love you here.

The place.

There are three differences be •• een the afflictions of the good •• d of the bad. 1. In the cauſe, • r they come to the good for • ods love. 2. In the meaſure, 〈◊〉 farre as they need, and are a ••• e to bear. 3. In the end, for •• eir good.

Of thoſe former doubts we •• terwards heard not a word •• om him. Upon the Sabbath •• y he deſired to be alone: after •• on he was fearfully troubled. 〈◊〉 his countenance appeared evi • ent tokens of a ſorrowfull • inde, born up with a weak • ody; his ſpirit was wounded, •• tan had foiled him. Thoſe his •• rrible wreſtlings with tentations, gripes of conſcience, a •• reſtles terrours, none can unde • ſtand, (much leſſe expreſſe but he which felt them. S • tan had winnowed him, an • ſhewed him nothing but chaff • His tender conſcience w • goared with the fiery dar • of the Devil, pointed wit • the edge of ſinne, an • ſenſe of Gods heavy wra •• As through a falſe glaſſe, th • dazled eye of his aſtoniſhed and amazed ſoul, coul • ſee nothing but hideouſl • appearing ſinne, and th • terrible image of death an • damnation. He had drun • deeply of the cup of th • dreggs of Hell. His adverſary had repreſented unto him his once moſt gracious God, now as a moſ • ſevere Judge diſpleaſed, angry, and chiding with • im; yea yeelding him up • nto his clawes: that ſo by • his deadly ſtratagem, he • ight take from him all • ope of help that way, and • o not onely ſtop the ſen • ible flowing of Gods grace; • nd cut the chains of Gods • ove, whereby he had tyed • im, and would draw him • fter him, but finally break • is Chriſtian heart. Oh • hat you had ſeen, or that we that were preſent had had eyes to have ſeen his • eeming forlone ſoul. What with barkings of conſcience, and with the too heavy burthen of ſinne, vvaves of fearfull thoughts, • luſtering blaſts, and ſurging ſtorms of Gods heavy diſpleaſure, he vvas toſſed, turmoyled, daſhed aga •• the rocks of deſpaire, and m •• then in danger of his ſouls ſ •• wrack: happy were we if •• ther through frowardnes, 〈◊〉 blindenes of judgement, we inconſiderately paſſe by, or p •• phanely deride Gods jud •• ments, by thinking that they • ther happen caſually, or by f •• getting of them ſuddenly. 〈◊〉 we could but rightly diſcerne 〈◊〉 we ſhould finde nothing m •• profitable, then to have the • mage of this gracious (thou •• now afflicted) ſoul in our hear • Hereby we may ſee that t • righteous being ſcarcely ſave • there is no place for the wicked a •• ungodly to appeare. And tru • we may think that God ſent it •• ven for our ſake, that we (w •• whom it is too uſuall to da • with the Lord) might kno •• that it is a fearfull thing to fall in • o his hands. Our faith is then • ryed in earneſt, when as the Lord hideth his face from us. For if we love God above all • hings, it cannot be but upon the • oſſe of the reliſh of his favour, • r taſte of his diſpleaſure, our • ouls ſhould be in bitternes, prick • d, tormented, wounded, thruſt • horow, yea, and ſwallowed up with deſolation. It is a wonder of the world, how we care • ully will ſeek phyſick, uſe dyet, by any means to avoid a • odily pang, and how careles we • re of the unſupportable fits of • he ſouls mortall ſicknes. It is • ot in our power to apprehend • race when we will, and a hard • r matter is it then we can con • eive, to lift up a poor ſoul caſt •• wn with the ſenſe of Gods wrath. If a violent paſſion may ſo farre tranſport the min •• what may we think of this re • les trembling, when the ſ • after long toſſings, ſeeth it 〈◊〉 drowned, and wholly ov •• whelmed with the deluge 〈◊〉 ſorrow, proceeding from the • verlaſting threats, and ſha •• and confuſion of face in 〈◊〉 preſence of the Almighty Conſider the body loaden f •• a burthen, neither portable 〈◊〉 evitable; and thence gather 〈◊〉 ſtranglings of an overladen ſo Conſider a man ready to 〈◊〉 from an high Tower unto 〈◊〉 Earth; and thence gather 〈◊〉 eſtate of another falling fr •• Heaven to Hell with a ſpiritu •• ruine. Conſider a childe, wh •• the mother hideth her face fr •• it, and terrifieth it with a B •• boe; and herein take view of 〈◊〉 eſtate of a poor Chriſtian (wh • chiefeſt happines having therein • onſiſted, (to wit) in being joyn • d, and united to his Heavenly • ather, having now loſt his pre • ence, or being affrighted with • he Devil, as if he were ready to •• y hands on him. Conſider • he eſtate of a debtor, caſt off by • is beſt Creditours: and gather • hat of a Chriſtian being banker •• ut with his God. Conſider • he eſtate of a man, once in fa • our, afterwards adjudged to • eath by a Prince, without hope • f pardon or repriving: and ga • her that of a Chriſtian, who • fter his citation and arraign • ent at the Tribunal ſeat of God, • ands condemned, and is whol •• deprived of obtaining pardon, • nd delivered into the hands of • he Devil. The Lord needs • ot to ſeek wilde beaſts to puniſh • s, or ſuch like cruell executioners of his wrath to torment u • he may finde enough within us all the furyes and Devils cann •• invent a more greivous tormen • One by it apprehended needet • not more accuſers or torment ours. His many never-though • of ſinne (as if he ſtirred a neſt 〈◊〉 waſps) come buzzing about h • eares, and as a man indebte • once laid hold of, make him faſter daily: his loving friends ma • ſtand by the priſon and call him but he being faſt fettered, canno • ſtirre forth. You ſhall ſee hi • now in his purgatory, (not th • papiſticall ſinne-ſatisfying fict • on, the Popes jayle) but that h •• fiery furnace wherein the Lo •• trieth his metall, whether it 〈◊〉 good or reprobate. And ſu • poſe that he had died at t •• worſt (as in the Lords juſtice 〈◊〉 might, to the hardening of tho •• that will not be ſoftened) As no man ſhould rather judge him by • he inch of his death, then the • ength of his life; ſo I for my part neither did in him, nor doe • n my ſelf ſo much feare his death, as I did, and doe deſire his life. You may obſerve the • ourſes which God taketh in viſiting his children to be divers: ſome are comfortable and with • ut any great admixture of diſcomfort: others heavy, but without horrour: others horrible, • et all of them are in the iſſue gracious. But to leave any fur • her digreſſion, and to come again to the matter in hand.

When one came unto him, he • rake out into theſe words, Oh • ow wofull and miſerable is my e • tate, that thus muſt converſe with • el-hounds! He being with theſe words ſtrangely moved, went 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 to call ſome of his beſt ab •• friends to comfort him. T • them he complayned, that t • Lord had curſed him. Being d • manded how he knew it: he anſwered, Why! the event ſhewet • it. It being replyed, The • ſuch and ſuch were curſed: h • anſwered, I have no grace. Ho • doe thoſe then? they once ha • none. I was a fooliſh glorious H • pocrite; It is against the courſe 〈◊〉 Gods proceeding to ſave me, 〈◊〉 hath otherwiſe decreed, he canno • Put your truſt in God. I canno • no more then an horſe. Doe yo • deſire to beleive? No more the • a poſt, then an horsſhoe. I kno • you cannot deny but that yo • have ſought Gods glory. N •• ſincerely. There is a ſecret mi • ture of pride and hypocriſy, • ven in the beſt. I have no mo • ſenſe of grace then theſe curtain •• en a gooſe, then that block. Let • he teſtimony of your life paſt • omfort you, eſpecially in the •• lling of a Tutour. I did the •• ſineſſe thereof perfunctorily, when 〈◊〉 handled hard Authours, I came • ten unprepared, and read ſhame •• lly. Be of good courage, and •• e Lord will comfort your • eart. It is ended, there is no •• ch matter. Why doe you think • o? You ſhall ſee the event, God • ill yet bring it to paſſe. Tuſh, •• ſh, trifles. What doe you think • f your former Doctrine? Very • ood. Let it comfort you. It •• nnot. You deſire it could. If 〈◊〉 might. There is nothing un • oſſible to God. Which ſtands with • is decree: Oh, oh, miſerable, and • ofull, the burthen of my ſinne ly •• th heavy upon me: I doubt it will • reak my heart. Behold your • omforts. Nothing to me, I pray you hold your peace, doe not trou •• your ſelf idly, you vex me, y • words are as daggers to my hea • Another time ſome of t •• younger ſort ſaid to him, R • member, Sir, the good counſe •• that you have given us heret • fore. Thoſe were ordinary. Y •• may ſee many others in the li •• eſtate. Not ſuch as mine. S •• David. What doe you ſpeak to 〈◊〉 of David? Good Sir, endeavo • to ſettle your minde; Yes, to pl •• with hell-hounds. Will you pray I cannot. You were wont her • tofore. Yes, by a custom and va • glory. Suffer us to pray for yo • Take not the name of God in va •• by praying for a Reprobate. He you may ſee the glory of G •• preferred before his own ſalv • tion, rather willing to have t •• means of his ſalvation neglecte • then the Lord diſhonoured. Su •• er us to pray for our ſelves. • ook to it, you would now ſhew your • aculty in praying. Can you ſay, Amen? No, but in a certain ge •• all faſhion. One prayed, and • n the mean time he reſted moſt • uietly. I pray you (ſaith he, • hen prayer was ended) Goe • ence to bed, doe not trouble your • lves in vain. Let not the Devil • elude you, abuſing your minde • nd tongue, I know you ſpeak • ot theſe words. I wonder that • ntelligent Scholars ſhould ſpeak • hus. We are perſwaded you • re in as good eſtate as our ſelves Look how it is with your ſelves in • ruth. One that watched with him, asked him, Sir, how can you diſcern this change by the • bſence of God, if you never en • oyed his preſence? I thought I • ad it once, but now I ſee it is farre • therwiſe. But God deals with you, as he dealt with the Churc • Iſa. 54.7. He forſook it a whil • and hid his face from it, but I returned to it again, and ſo ( 〈◊〉 doubt) the caſe ſtands with yo • Never, add not affliction to the a • flicted; Oh me wretch! groani •• pitifully. Hope no worſe 〈◊〉 your ſelf, then we doe of yo • All of us have ſeen cleerly whi •• way your carriage was ſtill ſen • after the ſpirit: and we are aſſ • red that you will come to t •• ſpirit, howſoever you ſeem t • have loſt your way. To a • particulars he would anſwer, deſire grace generally, I did go •• outwardly, all hypocritically. O • asked him, Doe you love ſuch a one? his moſt dear, and wo • thy to be dear friend. Yes. Why For his goodnes. Why then you a Gods childe, for by this w • know we are tranſlated fro • death to life, becauſe we own • e brethren. Many like forcible • oofs he would ſhift off with is former evaſions, and after • ards became more wary a • ainſt himſelf, either loth to • rant any thing, or granting it • aggeringly, or, what then? •• aring leſt he ſhould be preſ • ed, he wiſhed, that ſome were • ut in minde, 1. Of their great care • or building, and too ſmall care for • cholars in them. 2. Their giving ſo long leave of abſence from • he Colledge, and deſired amendment.

After noon came a worthy Governour of a Colledge in our Univerſity,Dr Aye • Provoſt of Queens Colledge. and requeſted him • o be of good comfort, and to pluck up his ſpirit. I cannot. Why can you not? Becauſe I have • o grace, no more then a Backſtock. Why doe you think ſo? By this affliction. Doe you deſ • grace? I cannot. (He ſpake m • ſtrongly) I can as well leap ov • the Church. But are you 〈◊〉 ſorry that you cannot deſire it I cannot. Would you not be Heaven? I would not. O • ſtanding by, ſaid, The De • himſelf would, if he could. B • the way, you ſhall have the • pinion of a much reſp • cted Miniſter appoſite heret • which he gave in private. 〈◊〉 proud man, ſaith he, w •• ſcorne to ſeek any good fro • his enemy: ſo the Devils pri •• will not let him think himſe • beholding to God for Heaven if he might get it. You hav • (ſaid one) the teſtimony of faith you love the Brethren. I di • not. Doe not you love us? No This concluſiō was faſtē ed on him before, which now he ſtufts off. The Devil now ſeeth he ſhoul • be caſt into ſtraits, if yo • • ould grant this; what is it that • oth moſt trouble you? I un • rtook too much upon me fooliſhly: had gotten a little Logick and • reek, and meanly instructed in • e rules, did ſet my ſelf to read to • holars; and afterwards under • ok other buſines, which diſtracted • y minde and body from them, I • ave deſtroyed a thouſand ſouls. • ou may ſee the falſehood of • m that ſuggeſteth this unto • ou: you never had a thouſand: • e puts a falſe glaſſe before you. • he good effects of your pains • ppears in many of your Scho • rs. Oh they were of themſelves • apable. Name one in whom • hey doe not? There is one. (point • ng at a Maſter of Arts there pre • nt) He juſtified his care of • im, and gave thanks to God • hat ever he came to him. It is • ot ſo, I did fooliſhly. You confeſſe you did fooliſhly, therefo • not of malice. Again, cōſider wh • would have become of many them if you had not taken the • Better, farre better. All in the C • ledge know the contrary. Bu • feel it. It is falſe, believe n • the Devil. It is too true. Wh • vvill you make amends? G • will give you your hearts deſir • Never. Are you ſorry that 〈◊〉 vvill not? No, there is no grace my heart: it is dead. Such w • Davids caſe. What doe you co • pare me with him? Behold Chri • himſelf. Nothing to me. Go • can make his death availabl • He cannot. He is omnipoten • In me he cannot, becauſe 〈◊〉 ſtands with his purpoſe. Who • God loveth once, he loveth t • the end. But he did never love m • You have taſted of his love. 〈◊〉 deceived my ſelf in a certain vain • lory: I expoſed my head to many • hings, outwardly all. You could • ay the Lords Prayer, and there • call him Father. Hypocriti • ally I was wont to enquire of Ma • ter Maſon, what was meant by • bba-father; rather in curioſity, • hen truly to be edified. God will • ive a good iſſue. Never, I • ave no ſenſe. We will pray • ith you. Doe not diſhonour • od. It is well that you will • ot have God diſhonoured: • ere he ſticked, ſaying, I pray • ouble me not with diſtinctions. • fter came one, who with ve • ement action of body, preſ • d and urged him to truſt in • od. I cannot (ſaid he) I can •• t, he will not have me ſaved, • s ſentence is paſsed. Doe • ou deſire to be ſaved? • o. Do you deſire to deſire? • o. Would you be damned? No. Look at the ſinnes of ot •• men as great as yours, and 〈◊〉 they are ſaved. They were good a godly, they found grace: here is 〈◊〉 difference, my ſinnes are horribl • he repeated that towards 〈◊〉 Scholars. All of us know y •• took pains. Outwardly y •• did your beſt. No. I ſee no • what it is, you ſtrictly look ba • to your own actions, as a Ju •• ciary, who will none of Go • mercy, and now he hath juſ • met with you, your judgem •• is juſt. Theſe words affec • him ſtrangely: another wil • him to look to it, it ſeemed n • Popery. Doe you hope to 〈◊〉 juſtified by your merits? I f •• to be damned for my ſinnes. T • other asked, whether he cou •• ſay, Amen? No. Have y •• no tongue? What is that to 〈◊〉 purpoſe? Name Jeſus, I can • 〈◊〉 I had your tongue in my hand, 〈◊〉 would make you ſpeak. Turn •• g his ſpeech to a friend preſent, •• h (ſaith he) if you did but feel my •• eif but an houre, you would have •• mpaſſion. The other reply • d, If you were in the fire you • ould wiſh to get out. I had ra •• er be in the fire then here. I will • ay for you. Sinne not. Let • e fault be mine.

Although my purpoſe was • rely to relate the paſſages of • is gracious mans viſitation, and 〈◊〉 referre to your ſpirituall eye • hat you could tracke and finde • erein, yet let your gentle con • uction withhold from me the 〈◊〉 ſerved cenſure of bold blind •• s, in that now and then I point 〈◊〉 ſome things which your • ick ſight may ſooner or bet •• apprehend. The Devils ma • ious policy was great toward him, in that he aſſaulted h • moſt ſtrongly in that, whi • might and ought to have be • his greateſt comfort. Again, ſaw that the opinion of the Ph • ſician helps ſomewhat in bod • maladies or diſeaſes, whereas 〈◊〉 that his eſtate, his ſoul remai • ed as it were uncapable of co • fort from the ſouls Phyſicia • He much reſpected ſome fe •• He dolefully poured out his ſo in the boſome of a well will on this manner; I took upon 〈◊〉 too proudly many things, and be •• negligent, performed nothing: c • ſed be the day when I took Schol • If I had not taken them, I had b •• happy; with a great flouriſh I w • stirring many wayes, and in 〈◊〉 mean ſpace left the eſsence of 〈◊〉 calling, teaching Scholars. Wh •• ſaith the other, what ſhall I n • doe, when I ſee you thus toſſe • W • ll, for I was an Hypocrite, and •• w therefore there is no hope of • mfort for me in Gods preſence: have no ſenſe of it. The ſunne 〈◊〉 in the firmament, though it • ay be hid in a cloud. This • mpariſon agreeth not to me. What •• en would you counſell me to • e? Abide within the bounds of • ur calling: take not too much on • u, and the Lord will bleſse you. • ill it avail me to hear ſermons. • es, if you mean to be ſaved. What • ood ſhall I reap thence? No • ing from the bare hearing. oh, • is heavy lumpiſh fear hath oft • mes ſhaken me, and now it hath • oken out. Another ſaid, you • ow the poor in ſpirit are bleſ • d. I am not ſuch. You ſee you • e empty of all good, you feel • ur burthen. I pray you goe your • ayes. He turned his head aſide, • d ſtopped his eares: what though you have done but lit • good, if you have but give • cup of cold water, &c. He thr • ed him away with his foot, • ther (as ſome thought) be • troubled with his ſhrill voi • or (as he replyed) through 〈◊〉 Devils ſubtilty. T • at even he was grievouſly afflicted Sudenly he brake out; Oh if Go • The ſtanders by endeavoured cheriſh this good motion, and ſ • to him, He will give you gra •• I doubt it. Then preſently • ter he uttered this prayer, God, give me a ſpark of grace, 〈◊〉 enlarge my heart that it may app •• hend it. He asked a friend, h • he might give ſatisfaction 〈◊〉 ſome ſpeeches.

Mr Dod, although he depa • ed on Saturday, and had th • an unſeaſonable journey, 〈◊〉 being requeſted by letters, • rned on Tueſday following. • e at the firſt ſight ſtarted up, as • eſirous to meet him, Oh Mr Dod, • d in friendly ſort complained, have no grace. I will not (ſaith • r Dod) beleive every one that • ith he hath grace, nor every • he that ſaith he hath none: An • wer the Devil as Chriſt did. A • an muſt not alwaies be led by • nſe; Let us enquire by the ef •• cts, and it may ſuffice, if we can •• nde but one, yea the leaſt it is • ough. You forgive your e • emies, and love them, and • ould doe them no hurt if you buld? Yes. Then your ſinnes • e forgiven. An Hypocrite • ay give alms and faſt, but this • e cannot. That is a ſmall matter. think it to be a great one, yea, •• ch an one that I had need to • ay for; That is put for a rea •• n in the Lords Prayer, and if Chriſt had thought any mo • forcible, he would have giv • it. Sir, that is true, but in th • that are elected. Doe not y • put an exception, where G • hath not. I would not hand you as I doe, but that I kno • your eſtate: I come hither cheriſh you, you love your go • friends? I cannot. Had you r • ther that bad or good men ſhou • be with you? Good. Yet y • ſay, you doe not love them: 〈◊〉 ſow will be with ſwine: There 〈◊〉 no fellowſhip between light a • darknes. Would you belie • your ſelf, or the Phyſician touc • ing the eſtate of your body? T • Phyſician. Believe not your ſ • then, now you are ſick, yet ſh •• be reſtored. It is impoſſible. Wh • ſo? If you had ſinned ſo mu • as you could, you could n • have ſinned ſo much as Ada • yet he is in Heaven. It repented • m. Doth it not you? No. Doth • our ſicknes or ſinne more trou •• e you, or had you rather •• ve grace, or health? Grace. Well then. But it cannot be. • od will waſh you. I have 〈◊〉 water. God will bring it • ith him. He hath denyed it. • e hath offered it by his Mi •• ſters, which are as the buc • ets to draw and pour it. • ou muſt not look now that • od ſhould come to y •• him •• lf. Doe you think it a ſmall • vour of God that ſo many • ood friends come to you? • od did ſend none to comfort • ain or Ahithophel. Think of that •• ying of Manoahs wife, If the • ord would kill us, he would not • ave ſhewed us all theſe things, •• dg. 13.23. Behold the proper •• es of Chriſts ſheep: They are 1. Weak, 2. Sick, 3. Brok •• 4. Driven away, 5. Loſt, EZ •• 34.4. You are ſuch, ſee the • fore your comfort, he 〈◊〉 1. ſtrengthen, 2. heal, 3. binde 〈◊〉 4. bring again, and 5. ſeek y •• You finde your ſelf a great de • tor: the Lord hath pardone • onely he looks that you ſho •• come to him for an acquittan •• This fight is not yours, but 〈◊〉 Lords, 2 Chron. 20.20. put y •• truſt in him. If you ask me, h • may I? it followeth, Beleive 〈◊〉 Prophets, and you ſhall proſp •• You may remember that Ch •• did pray for Peter, that his fa •• might not fail, but it failed •• terwards. How came that 〈◊〉 paſſe? That failing did rath •• ſtrengthen it. For whereas he g • ried that if al ſhould deny Chri • yet he would not: had he be •• asked, Doeſt thou promiſe t •• 〈◊〉 thi • e own ſtrength, or by 〈◊〉 he muſt have anſwered, • ine, f •• • therwiſe he would • ve req •••• ed his help, making • m hereby to ſeek to Chriſt for • e ſtrengthening of his faith. • his happeneth to you, becauſe •• u credit the ſuggeſtion of • rnall reaſon, and not the word • ther. Oh the cunning of • e adverſary! deal not with • m by cunning, but hold him to • e Word, ſeek for ſtrength in • od to reſiſt him. You may • e the Apoſtles in the tempeſt, 〈◊〉 was from their weaknes that •• ey diſtruſted, yet of God that • ey prayed. I cannot pray. Here • hat St James ſaith, Is any man • ck, &c. afflictions further pray •• , but moſt ſickneſſes hinder: • herefore behold your friends, • hoſe mindes as the Lord hath • irred up to pray for you: ſo will he alſo ſtirre up himſelf to he •• them. Their prayers are your • yea, you have the prayers of m • ny which never knew you. A •• as God ſaid to Cain, ſinne lyet • at the door, ready as it were 〈◊〉 doe him an ill turne: ſo his pr • miſed bleſſing doth as it we • expect you. If your ſalvatio • were now in your own hand • it is likely you would yeild u • all: but your name is written i • the heart of Chriſt. Sir, let m • watch with you this night. N • Why? becauſe it would hu • you. He (fearing the concluſ • on) ſaid, Here is a ſnatching a • gument: nay rather, I will not ſu • fer you, becauſe you would trouble m • In the morning M. Dod came • gain to him, and asking hi • how he did, he anſwered, wretc • edly, lamentably, abhominably no ſtamp of grace in me. Doe yo • deſire to be eaſed? Infinitely. Oh if God would give me a drop: I was ſo fooliſh that I would alwaies be doing ſomething, but did nothing well. I pray you tell me what was the calling of the good thief upon the croſſe? Doe not you think that God can put a diſtinction between his grace and our corruptions? Behold the Church ſometimes helples and hopeles, and Jonah in that his bed, God ſeeth you, though you ſee not him. But I feel horrour. Where miſery is, there is grace much more: Then eſpecially appeareth the excellency of the Phyſician, when health is leaſt hoped. The Devil doth abuſe your minde and tongue againſt your ſelf: but doubt not, the Lord will caſt down the ſtrong holds of carnall reaſon. Onely doe not ſuppreſſe that grace of God, which although it appeareth but ſmall as big as a mans hand, ye • it ſhall be increaſed into a • mighty rain, by which your dry ſoul ſhall be moiſtened. Chriſ • riſing again, did firſt appea • to Mary Magdalen that ſinner • after commanded her to tel • it firſt to Peter, which ha • denied him. See thence hi • mercy. The godly in thei • afflictions doe but forget thei • comforts; God helps thei • memory, helps all. Th • godly loſing his ſenſe o • Gods favour, is like to 〈◊〉 man that hath loſt his purſe • which if he could finde, h • were rich enough. But th • wicked cannot be brought t • remembrance, becauſe they never knew it. Thus he ſuffered him to reſt a while, afterwards returning with others, prayed. Then he was asked, how he did. Miſerably. Doe not you ſearch into the ſecrets of God. It is too true and manifest. Sir, doe not alwaies be digging in at your ſinnes. A wound continually rubbed cannot be cured. Suffer the plaiſters of the Word of God to reſt upon it, that it may be holpen. Oh, if I had! Oh, if it would pleaſe God! I had rather then any thing in this or other three thouſand worlds. Who now giveth this deſire unto you? Of our ſelves we cannot think a good thought: God giveth both the will and the deed. A deſire is a ſure token. But I cannot truly deſire. You doe not deſire falſely, therefore: truly what doe you diſſemble? Here is a trick. You muſt needs diſtinguiſh between unperfect deſire and hypocriticall. Will you know whether your deſire be true? There are two ſignes thereof▪ Conſtancy, and a conſcionable uſing of the means: You have found theſe in you, doth this argument hold? You doe not feel, therefore you have it not? I know when you would have denyed ſuch an argument: If that did follow, it ſhould fare well with the Reprobate, he hath no ſenſ • of the wrath of God, therefore he is not under it. Elizabeth ſaid, Whence is it tha • the mother of the Lord ſhoul • come unto me? ſurely from their Chriſtian heart. Truly I could hardly have come to you, but that I thought I was bound in conſcience, becauſe I know you to be the ſervant of the Lord: When you were well, if we ſhould have come with proofs out of the Word of the Lord, you would have believed us. Yes. Why not now when your • udgement is blinded? Oh, the • udgement of God! Call it as • e calleth it, Corrections. Oh, • ny inſenſible heart! Oh, dead! A dead man cannot perceive • imſelf dead, and God quick • eth the dead. Oh, if he would • nlarge my heart! This deſire • s good; But it is without ſa • our. God in mercy will • eild you a comfortable rel • iſh: Conſider I pray you; • hereas man may object, The Lord is ſtrong and terrible. It followeth, Mercifull withall. But I am backward in ſeeking it. He is gracious, more forward then thou canſt be backward: but I have provoked. Him; he is ſlow to anger: but my ſinnes are great but he is abundant in goodnes and in truth. The Lord hath promiſed that he on hi • part will be our God, an • we on our part ſhall be his people. For a while he commended him to God: ſhortly after returning, he prayed with him Caſt your burthen upon God He hath rejected me. Who mad • you his counſellour? Secre • things belong unto God, bu • revealed things unto us: wil • you make Almanackes? He dot • manifeſt it: Oh mine abominabl • bringing up of youth! he witha • groaned moſt deeply. If you had done as well as the juſteſt man, you ſhould ſtand in need of the merits of Chriſt. I, or another may bring arguments, but it belongs to the Lord to faſten them on the heart. I ſay to you as Noah did to Japhet, God perſwade Japhet, &c. What if your ſinnes were as crimſon, God can make them as ſnow. That is true of thoſe that are capable. Behold, we make your eſtate our own, we have part in your ſorrow: who hath thus (think you) diſpoſed our hearts? God. And doe you think that he which cauſeth us to love you, doth not love you himſelf? I fear I did too much glory in matters of private ſervice to God. The neerer we come to God, the more we ſee our own vileneſſe. This is the uſe which I make of it, bleſſed be God which hath not put our eſtate in our own hands, but kept it in his. The Devil hath now winnowed you and you think all is gone out, bu • God holdeth what is his. A •• Artificer can diſtinguiſh droſſ • from the metall, cannot God his from yours? Well, with Jo • lay your hand on your mouth and hold your peace, and ſo goo • reſt have you: Onely conſide • your comfort, though it be bu • ſmall, whence it came, even from Gods Word and ſervants, no otherwiſe.

M. Dod. When he returned again t • take and give farewell, he began to complain: Oh, great an • grievous! The Lord knowet • what power he hath given you A father will put a greater bu • then upon a ſtronger ſonne. Bu • ſee the difference. When a earthly father or maſter ſetteth his on work, they muſt doe it with their own ſtrength; but the Lord ſetteth on work, and giveth ſtrength to be not diſcouraged. You are now in your calling: Oh, mine heart is miſerable! What then? A father loveth his ſonne as well when he is ſleeping, as when he is waking. Sir, I have known you heretofore, and although, if I were in your caſe, I might doe as you doe, yet I remain the ſervant of God, as you certainly are. The Holy Ghoſt calls to your remembrance what you have heretofore taught, and now heard: And although I ſhall be abſent in body, yet ſhall I be preſent in minde. Be not too covetous to ſeek abundance by and by. If Jacob could ſay to Eſau, I have ſeen thy face, as though I had ſeen the face of God, much more ſhould you think ſo of the children of God that come to you. I thank God (ſaith he) he hath begun to eaſe me. He will in his good time. God grant. Thus he took his laſt farewell. Although vve depart from our friends in the way, yet vve ſhall meet at the end. One told Maſter Dod that he had uttered ſuch words. Now the Lord hath made me a ſpectacle. Whereupon he counſelled one that attended on him, to be ſparing in admitting commers in, or ſpeakers, leſt his brain ſhould be too much heated. A friend of his comming to him, asked him, Dare you murmure and repine againſt God? Why ſhould I ſo? God be bleſſed. It is a ſigne of grace. But I have no meanes. You have had them offered. But not given with effect. They ſhall, I doubt not. God grant: but I doe not feel it.

He received a letter from a friend very reſpective,M. Bolton. and much reſpected of them both: wherein were written theſe very words: I heard, I know not hovv true, that our dear Chriſtian friend Mr Peacock is in great danger: which hath much greived and afflicted my heart, and vvrung from me very bitter teares. If his extremities be ſuch, his tentations are very like to be ſore. Tell him from me (as one vvho did ever, with deareſt intimatenes knovv and converſe with him) that I can aſſure him in the word of life and truth, frō a moſt juſt and holy God, whoſe Miniſter I am, That he is undoubtedly one of his Saints, deſigned for immortality, and thoſe endles joyes in another world. When it was read to him; at thoſe words I can aſſure him, &c. (he ſaid) Oh, take heed, take heed, doe you think he vvould or durſt aſſure you, unles he knew on what grounds? I did deceive my ſelf, now God hath revealed more. Another time one requeſted him, that he would make his friends partakers of the leaſt comfort that the Lord beſtovved upon him, as they had been partakers of his grief. If I had it, I would willingly communicate it. Search and take notice of the leaſt. How ſhould I have any, ſince God denyeth the means? doe you think ſenſe is a fruit of faith? Yes, at this ſeaſon, although the huſbandman hath ſown much, yet he ſeeth nothing above ground. Applications doe not prove, hold your peace, my heart is broken. Then the promiſe is yours. I would gladly ask you one thing, Now you will ask twenty. Doe you ſeek for grace in your heart? I cannot. How then can you know whether it be there or no? It is dead. The Lord in whoſe hand the diſpoſing thereof is, diſpoſe it for your good and his glory. I thank you. What doe you think of that place, Whoſe ſins you remit, they are remitted, &c. You know how farre they may goe. Howſoever, Sir, the bargain is not now to be made between God and you. Shortly after came one whom he much eſteemed. Oh I love (ſaid he) your company, for the graces in you, and much more to the ſame purpoſe. Suddainly he brake out into this ejaculation, Oh God, reconcile me unto thee, that I may taſte one dramme of thy grace, by which my miſerable ſoul may receive comfort. One ſecretly willed that man to deſire him to repeat it again. Doe not trouble me with repetitions. There being a ſermon, he bade them about him goe thither. After he called one, and asked him whether the preacher (being acquainted with his courſe of preaching) did uſe his accuſtomed diviſions. He told one, Satan had borne him in hand, and had deluded him: to whō the other anſwered, I hope that God will reſtore you as before, to glorify him here. No. No. Yea, if you were weaker, I would hope notwithſtanding. I deſire nothing more. God be thanked, you have laboured carefully for his glory. I would labour after another faſhion. In the night he prayed and repeated his belief. And after reſting a while, he called thoſe that watched with him, Bear witneſſe, I ſaid not, I believe, but in generall, and as deſiring that I might believe. One comming to viſit him, asked him, How is it with you? My minde was grievouſly puZZled with ſundry distractions this night, but now I feel my burthen more light, I thank God. He was put in minde of that place, Iſa. 54.8, 11, 12, &c. Oh thou afflicted and toſſed with tempeſts, and not comforted; behold, I will lay thy ſtones with faire colours, and thy foundations with Saphyrs; And I will make thy windowes of Agates, and thy gates of Carbuncles: and all thy borders of pleaſant stones, &c. For a little while I hid my ſelf from thee, but with everlasting kindnes will I have mercy on thee. He lifted up his eyes: thereupon being asked what the Lord did ſay to his ſoul, that had long refuſed comfort? Take heed, be not to • bold, look to the foundation. And then prayed. Lord grant m • the comfort of thy deliverance, and forgive me my fooliſhnes, that I may praiſe thy name. Then he complained of his idle ſpeeches. Upon the Sabbath day one came to him, willing him to put his hand to a note of certain debts. This is not a day for that. We will goe to Sermon. God ſpee • you. Now you cannot goe to Church to ſerve the Lord, I pray him to come to you. Amen. He hardly ſuffered any to ſtay with him. At evening one did read ſomething to him in Maſter Downams warfare, and asked him, doe you think it to be true? Yes. Therefore you muſt not truſt your ſenſe: What not ſuch as mine are? But I will not now diſpute. When they were helping him up and putting on his cloathes; upon ſome occaſion one ſaid to him to this effect: A childe will not much grieve at the laying aſide of an old coat, when he hath anew made, Whē you ſhall put on that, there ſhall be no longer nakednes, the reſurrection will amend all. To thoſe that die in the Lord. No doubt you will dye in him, having lived in him. I have anſwered you before. But I would not believe you in that caſe. The next day a friend of his being to goe forth of town, asked him, whether he would have any thing with him, for he was to leave him, and knew not whether ever he ſhould ſee him again here. Look to your calling, that it be as well inward as outward. He counſelled another; To be ſtirring for the glory of God. To one ſtanding by, he ſaid. 〈◊〉 am thinking. What? On a for • to get grace. Put your truſt in God. So I doe. I omit how, and tell you that with great patience▪ he continually ſubmitted himſelf to adviſe in any means fo • his good: In putting his temporall eſtate in order; he deal • mercifully with his pooreſt debtors, yea, with ſome which migh • well pay it. His worthy patro • (for ſo he often called him) whom for honours ſake I name, Sir Robert Harley, ſent his man to him with ſome aurum potabile, together with a book which a Doctour had made in the praiſe thereof. Comming to him, and asking him how he did, Oh (ſaid he) if it would pleaſe God that I might live with him. Anon after he • aid to one, I have been thinking of arguments by which I might pleade my cauſe with God, and I • ave found: But what if dying thus, 〈◊〉 ſhould be judged an Apoſtata? Man is not the Judge at whoſe Tribunall you muſt ſtand or fall. There came in many of our cheif Fellowes. One of them requeſt • d him to make confeſſion of his • aith willingly. But I would • hink of it firſt. Muſing awhile, • e called them. Truly my heart • nd ſoul have been farre lead, and deeply troubled with tentations and ſtings of conſcience: but I thank God they are eaſed in good meaſure: Wherefore I deſire that I be not branded with the note of a forlorne or Reprobate: Such queſtions, oppoſitions, and all tending thereto, I renounce: Now help me, and put me in minde. What doe you think of your former doctrine? Most true: In it I have lived, and will dye; I have not dealt hypocritically in it. Are you willing to die? Truly I will tell you: my Patron who of late ſent me potable gold, hath taken order that I might live with him contentedly in the Miniſtery: but I ſubmit my ſelf to the will of God. Doe you deſire the glory of God, and the ſalvation of your brethren? Most: Help my memory, what more? Doe you forgive all wrongs? Yes, and deſire that mine may be: And now I thank you. Sir, I remember a thing wantonly done towards you, pointing at one preſent. You ſent me a knife for a new-years-gift; and I tyed two verſes to it, and ſent it back: I pray pardon me if any thing— For mine unconſiderate ſpeeches in the time of my tentations, I heartily and humbly ask forgivenes. You did then (ſaith one) ſeem to rely ſomewhat upon inherent righteouſnes, as if you ſought in your ſelf whereby you ſhould be ſaved: Indeed we knew your converſation to be unreproveable: No I dare not affirm it: I truſt in nothing but in the name of Jeſus. Have you any certainty in him? I would not be preſsed to a particular aſsurance in this grievous agony. We deſire you to inform them that ſhall come unto you of your eſtate. My unability is great: They then praied, 1. Giving God thanks, that whereas before they had craved his mercy for his ſervant, he had heard them, and manifeſted to his glory, how he never forſaketh his: And beſought him, becauſe he knew the malice of the enemy, to perfect his good work, and not ſuffer him to be tempted above his ſtrength. Now, Sir, we tell yo • one thing to your comfort, W • never heard you ſpeak any thing againſt God or man, thorow • out the time of your viſitation • but wholly againſt your ſelf • I have been bold thus to argue wit • God, If he hath ſhewed mercy t • ſuch and ſuch, why ſhould not 〈◊〉 likewiſe have hope? He complained once, how, while h • was viſiting the ſick, (In whic • work many poor ſouls foun • the ready mercifulnes of hi • heart, and now feel a great want) he lighted upon doubts; which that he might more fully ſatisfy, when the like migh • be moved, he ſtudyed too earneſtly. One brought him a note book which he had lent (Alwayes willing to communicate what he had moſt private) Here is a book (ſaid he) of great pains, &c. To a ſtranger, a worthy gentleman that came to viſit him, he ſaid, The Lord is mercifull to me, and I have cauſe of rejoycing, &c. Afterwards a reverend Governour came to him,Dr A • ery. to whom he complained of his ſinne and miſery. You look not (ſaid he) for any thing in your ſelf. No, for nothing. You would amend if you had ſpace. Oh if I had— Certainly— Think on this. As the Lord hath heard the ejaculations and grones of your ſpirit in your infirmity, ſo he will now. If he will be glorified by your life, you ſhall live; Submit your ſelf to him, let him chooſe for you. My faith is weak. All, you know, are here but in part, you deſire notwithſtanding to runne to that which is perfect: So 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 you may ſee how low many have been brought, ſome (ſaid he) have been Idolatours, was not Manaſſes ſuch an one? Yes. And behold Gods ſervants from the beginning of the Bible to the end, they have ſlipped. Lot had ſhrewd ſlips, but yet here the teſtimony of the Apoſtle of him; he was juſt and righteous. You have been wearied and heavy loaden. Yes. For ſuch is the end of Chriſts comming: your deſire is a token of favour: For by how much the neerer we come, the more we thirſt. Think now on his loving kindnes; he hath begun, and he will finiſh whom you have ſerved. I did endeavour, but vile imperfections, &c. It is our greateſt perfection here, to ſee our imperfections. Shortly after came to him many young Gentlemen, to whom he ſaid, Live in Gods fear, that you may die in his favour: Otherwiſe the Oxe and the Aſse will condemn you; I ſpent my time fooliſhly and prodigally. You have (ſaid one) remembred that ſufficiently; Remember alſo Chriſt. That is true, Chriſt is to be remembred, and our ſinnes to be remembred alſo.

The night following, which was Wedneſday night, the Sun of Righteouſnes ſpread gracious beams at his ſetting, which were comfortable tokens of a glorious riſing. His laſt ſwanlike ſong, as he uttered it, was pen'd by ſome as he uttered it. One comforting him by his bead-ſide ſome two houres or more before his death, he brake out into theſe ſpeeches; Quid • e ſalute mea ſentiam expectatis • t explicarem: uſque adeo indulget Deus ijs quos ſemel dilexerit, ut eos nunquam deſerat, at que ideo me in coelos tranſiturum pro certo habeo: Feliciſsima ſunt ea vincula in quae me conjecit Deus benigniſsimus; You all expect that I ſhould declare what I thinke of my own ſalvation: God is ſo indulgent to thoſe whom he hath ever loved, that he never forſakes them, and therefore I am aſſured I ſhall goe to Heaven: Moſt happy are thoſe fetters into which I was caſt by a moſt mercifull God. One telling him, You have fought a good fight, &c. he ſaid, Expetit, expedit ut contendam ad coelum; Tollite, Tollite, Eripite, Eripite, ut coelum adeam: Deus indulget ingenuitati bonorum. It is requiſite, it is requiſite that I ſhould contend for Heaven: Take me up, take me up, carry me hence, carry me hence, that I may go to Heaven; God doth cheriſh the ingenuity of the good. Being put in minde of Gods mercy towards him, he made anſwer: Oh, the ſea is not ſo full of water, nor the Sunne of light, as God is of goodnes, his mercy is ten thouſand times more. Being likewiſe remembred of Gods goodnes towards him, in filling his heart with ſuch comforts, after ſo great tentations, he ſaid: I doe (God be praiſed) feel ſuch comfort from that: What ſhall I call it? Agony, ſaith one, Nay, that is too little: That had I five hundred worlds, I could not not make ſatisfaction for ſuch an iſſue. Being moved to lift up his heart in token of thankfulneſſe unto his God, he uttered theſe words: What, ſhall I extoll the magnificence of God, which is unſpeakeable, and more then any heart can conceive? Nay rather let us with humble reverence acknowledge his great mercy: What great cauſe have I to magnify the great goodnes of God, that hath humbled, nay rather exalted ſuch a wretched miſcreant of ſo baſe condition to an eſtate ſo glorious and ſtately! The Lord hath honour'd me with his goodnes: I am ſure he hath provided a glorious Kingdom for me. The joy that I feel in my heart is uncredible. He made likewiſe proteſtation of that which he alwayes before taught againſt juſtification by inherent righteouſnes, and appealing to the knowledge of ſome there preſent, what he continually maintained, in that (ſaith he) I ſtill remain a Proteſtant. After three chapters read to him, Revel. 19. Revel. 21. Rom. 8. Oh, (ſaith he) They be glorious comforts: Will you have any more read? Yea, a Pſalm, if you pleaſe, and named the 23. One beginning to read it, he deſired that it might be ſung: One asking him, Will you ſing? Yea, ſaid he, as well as I can. The Pſalm being ſung, afterwards the 17. of John was read unto him: One comforting him by applying to him that in particular, which Chriſt in generall performed for the good of the faithfull, he ſaid, Bleſſed be God, very often, I am a thouſand times happy to have ſuch felicity thrown upon me, a poor wretched miſcreant. After a little reſt, Lord Jeſus (ſaid he) unto thy hands: Lord receive my ſoul, Lord lift thou up • he light of thy countenance upon me, and be mercifull unto me. Then very weak he repeated the Lords prayer twice, and his Belief once very plainly, and diſtinctly with a ſtrong voice, to the great admiration of the hearers: ſo he ſlept in the Lord.