On the Difficulties and Duties of the Christian Life

I have hitherto considered wherein true religion doth consist, and how desirable a thing
it is; but when one sees how infinitely distant the common temper and frame of men is from
it, he may perhaps be ready to despond, and give over, and think it utterly impossible to be
attained. He may sit down in sadness, and bemoan himself, and say, in the anguish and
bitterness of his spirit, “They are happy indeed whose souls are awakened unto the divine
life, who are thus renewed in the spirit of their minds; but, alas! I am quite of another con-
stitution, and am not able to effect so mighty a change. If outward observances could have
done the business, I might have hoped to acquit myself by diligence and care; but since
nothing but a new nature can serve the turn, what am I able to do? I could bestow all my
goods in oblations to God, or alms to the poor, but cannot command that love and charity,
without which this expense would profit me nothing. This gift of God cannot be purchased
with money. If a man should give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be
contemned. I could pine and macerate my body, and undergo many hardships and troubles;
but I cannot get all my corruptions starved, nor my affections wholly weaned from earthly
things. There are still some worldly desires lurking in my heart, and those vanities that I
have shut out of the doors, are always getting in by the windows. I am many times convinced
of my own meanness, of the weakness of my body, and the far greater weakness of my soul;
but this doth rather beget indignation and discontent, than true humility in my spirit. And
though I should come to think meanly of myself, yet I cannot endure that others should
think so too. In a word, when I reflect on my highest and most specious attainments, I have
reason to suspect, that they are all but the effects of nature, the issues of self-love acting
under several disguises; and this principle is so powerful, and so deeply rooted in me, that
I can never hope to be delivered from the dominion of it. I may toss and turn as a door on
the hinges, but can never get clear off, or be quite unhinged of self, which is still the centre
of all my motions; so that all the advantage I can draw from the discovery of religion, is but
to see, at a huge distance, that felicity which I am not able to reach; like a man in a shipwreck,
who discerns the land, and envies the happiness of those who are there, but thinks it im-
possible for himself to get ashore.”

These, I say, or such like desponding thoughts, may arise in the minds of those persons
who begin to conceive somewhat more of the nature and excellency of religion than before.
They have spied the land, and seen that it is exceeding good, that it floweth with milk and
honey; but they find they have the children of Anak to grapple with, many powerful lusts
and corruptions to overcome, and they fear they shall never prevail against them. But why
should we give way to such discouraging suggestions? Why should we entertain such un-
reasonable fears, which damp our spirits and weaken our hands, and augment the difficulties
of our way? Let us encourage ourselves, my dear friend, let us encourage ourselves with
those mighty aids we are to expect in this spiritual warfare; for greater is he that is for us,
than all that rise up against us. “The eternal God is our refuge, and underneath are the
everlasting arms. Let us be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might,” for he it is
that shall “tread down our enemies.” God hath a tender regard unto the souls of men, and
is infinitely willing to promote their welfare. He hath condescended to our weakness, and
declared with an oath, that he hath no pleasure in our destruction. There is no such thing
as dispute or envy lodged in the bosom of that ever-blessed Being, whose name and nature
is Love. He created us at first in a happy condition; and now, when we are fallen from it,
“He hath laid help upon one that is mighty to save,” hath committed the care of our souls
to no meaner person than the Eternal Son of his love. It is he that is the Captain of our sal-
vation, and what enemies can be too strong for us when we are fighting under his banners?
Did not the Son of God come down from the bosom of his Father, and pitch his tabernacle
amongst the sons of men, that he might recover and propagate the divine life, and restore
the image of God in their souls? All the mighty works which he performed, all the sad afflic-
tions which he sustained, had this for their scope and design; for this did he labour and toil,
for this did he bleed and die. “He was with child, he was in pain, and hath he brought forth
nothing but wind; hath he wrought no deliverance in the earth? Shall he not see of the
travail of his soul?” Certainly it is impossible that this great contrivance of heaven should
prove abortive, that such a mighty undertaking should fail and miscarry. It hath already
been effectual for the salvation of many thousands, who were once as far from the kingdom
of heaven as we can suppose ourselves to be, and our “High Priest continueth for ever, and
is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him.” He is tender and compas-
sionate, he knoweth our infirmities, and had experience of our temptations. “A bruised reed
will he not break, and smoking flax will he not quench, till he send forth judgment unto
victory.” He hath sent out his Holy Spirit, whose sweet but powerful breathings are still
moving up and down in the world, to quicken and revive the souls of men, and awaken
them unto the sense and feeling of those divine things for which they were made, and is
ready to assist such weak and languishing creatures as we are, in our essays towards holiness
and felicity: and when once it hath taken hold of a soul, and kindled in it the smallest spark
of divine love, it will be sure to preserve and cherish, and bring it forth into a flame, “which
many waters shall not quench, neither shall the floods be able to drown it.” Whenever this
day begins to dawn, “and the day-star to arise in the heart,” it will easily dispel the powers
of darkness, and make ignorance and folly, and all the corrupt and selfish affections of men,
flee away as fast before it as the shades of night, when the sun cometh out of his chambers:
“For the path of the just is as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect
day. They shall go on from strength to strength, till every one of them appear before God
in Zion.”

Why should we think it impossible, that true goodness and universal love should ever
come to sway and prevail in our souls? Is not this their primitive state and condition, their
native and genuine constitution, as they came first from the hands of their Maker? Sin and
corruption are but usurpers, and though they have long kept possession, “yet from the be-
ginning it was not so.” That inordinate self-love, which one would think were rooted in our
very being, and interwoven with the constitution of our nature, is nevertheless of a foreign
extraction, and had no place at all in the state of integrity. We have still so much reason left
as to condemn it; our understandings are easily convinced, that we ought to be wholly devoted
to him from whom we have our being, and to love him infinitely more than ourselves, who
is infinitely better than we; and our wills would readily comply with this, if they were not
disordered and put out of tune: and is not he who made our souls, able to rectify and mend
them again? Shall we not be able, by his assistance, to vanquish and expel those violent in-
truders, “and turn unto flight the armies of the aliens?”

No sooner shall we take up arms in this holy war, but we shall have all the saints on
earth, and all the angels in heaven, engaged on our party. The holy church throughout the
world is daily interceding with God for the success of all such endeavours; and, doubtless,
those heavenly hosts above are nearly concerned in the interests of religion, and infinitely
desirous to see the divine life thriving and prevailing in this inferior world; and that the will
of God may be done by us on earth, as it is done by themselves in heaven. And may we not
then encourage ourselves, as the prophet did His servant, when he showed him the horses
and chariots of fire, “Fear not, for they that be with us are more than they that be against
us?”

Away then with all perplexing fears and desponding thoughts. To undertake vigorously,
and rely confidently on the divine assistance, is more than half the conquest. “Let us arise
and be doing, and the Lord will be with us.” It is true, religion in the souls of men is the
immediate work of God, and all our natural endeavours can neither produce it alone, nor
merit those supernatural aids by which it must be wrought. The Holy Ghost must come
upon us, and the power of the Highest must overthrow us, before that holy thing can be
begotten, and Christ be formed in us. But yet we must not expect that this whole work should
be done without any concurring endeavours of our own. We must not lie loitering in the
ditch, and wait till Omnipotence pull us from thence. No, no: we must bestir ourselves, and
actuate those powers which we have already received. We must put forth ourselves to our
utmost capacities, and then we may hope that “our labour shall not be in vain in the Lord.”
All the art and industry of man cannot form the smallest herb, or make a stalk of corn to
grow in the field; it is the energy of nature, and the influences of Heaven, which produce
this effect. It is God “who causeth the grass to grow, and herb for the service of man;” and
yet nobody will say, that the labours of the husbandman are useless or unnecessary. So,
likewise, the human soul is immediately created by God. It is he who both formeth and en-
liveneth the child; and yet he hath appointed the marriage-bed as the ordinary means for
the propagation of mankind. Though there must intervene a stroke of Omnipotence to effect
this mighty change in our souls, yet ought we to do what we can to fit and prepare ourselves;
for we must break up our fallow ground, and root out the weeds, and pull up the thorns,
that so we may be more ready to receive the seeds of grace, and the dew of heaven. It is true,
God hath been found of some who sought Him not. He hath cast himself in their way, who
were quite out of his. He hath laid hold upon them, and stopped their course on a sudden;
for so was St. Paul converted in his journey to Damascus. But certainly this is not God’s
ordinary method of dealing with men. Though he hath not tied himself to means, yet he
hath tied us to the use of them; and we have never more reason to expect the divine assistance,
than when we are doing our utmost endeavours. It shall therefore be my next work, to show
what course we ought to take for attaining that blessed temper I have hitherto described.
But here, if, in delivering my own thoughts, I shall chance to differ from what is or may be
said by others in this matter, I would not be thought to contradict and oppose them, more
than physicians do, when they prescribe several remedies for the same disease, which perhaps
are all useful and good. “Every one may propose the method he judges most proper and
convenient; but he doth not thereby pretend that the cure can never be effected, unless that
be exactly observed. I doubt it hath occasioned much unnecessary disquietude to some holy
persons, that they have not found such a regular and orderly transaction in their souls, as
they have seen described in books; that they have not passed through all those steps and
stages of conversion, which some (who perhaps have felt them in themselves) have too
peremptorily prescribed unto others. God hath several ways of dealing with the souls of
men, and it sufficeth if the work be accomplished, whatever the methods have been.

Again, though in proposing directions I must follow that order which the nature of
things shall lead to, yet I do not mean that the same method should be so punctually observed
in the practice, as if the latter rules were never to be heeded till some considerable time have
been spent in practising the former. The directions I intend are mutually conducive one to
another, and are all to be performed as occasion shall serve, and we find ourselves enabled
to perform them.

But now, that I may detain you no longer, if we desire to have our souls moulded to this
holy frame, to become partakers of the divine nature, and have Christ formed in our hearts,
we must seriously resolve, and carefully endeavour, to avoid and abandon all vicious and
sinful practices. There can be no treaty of peace, till once we lay down these weapons of re-
bellion wherewith we fight against heaven; nor can we expect to have our distempers cured,
if we be daily feeding on poison. Every wilful sin gives a mortal wound to the soul, and puts
it at a greater distance from God and goodness; and we can never hope to have our hearts
purified from corrupt affections, unless we cleanse our hands from vicious actions. Now,
in this case we cannot excuse ourselves by the pretence of impossibility; for sure our outward
man is some way in our power. We have some command of our feet, and hands, and tongue,
nay, and of our thoughts and fancies too, at least so far as to divert them from impure and
sinful objects, and to turn our mind another way; and we find this power and authority
much strengthened and advanced, if we were careful to manage and exercise it. In the mean
while, I acknowledge our corruptions are so strong, and our temptations so many, that it
will require a great deal of steadfastness and resolution, of watchfulness and care, to preserve
ourselves, even in this degree of innocence and purity.

And, first, let us inform ourselves well what those sins are from which we ought to ab-
stain. And here we must not take our measures from the maxims of the world, or the practices
of those whom in charity we account good men. Most people have very light apprehensions
of these things, and are not sensible of any fault, unless it be gross and flagitious, and scarce
reckon any so great as that which they call preciseness: and those who are more serious, do
many times allow themselves too great latitude and freedom. Alas! how much pride and
vanity, and passion and honour; how much weakness, and folly, and sin, doth every day
show itself in their converse and behaviour? It may be they are humbled for it, and striving
against it, and are daily gaining some ground: but then the progress is so small, and their
failings so many, that we have need to choose a more exact pattern. Every one of us must
answer for himself, and the practices of others will never warrant and secure us. It is the
highest folly to regulate our actions by any other standard than that by which we must be
judged. If ever we would cleanse our way, it must be “by taking heed thereto according to
the word of God;” and that “word which is quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-
edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and
marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart,” will certainly discover
many things to be sinful and hideous, which pass for very innocent in the eyes of the world.

Let us therefore imitate the Psalmist, who saith, “Concerning the works of men, by the words
of thy lips I have kept myself from the paths of the destroyer.” Let us acquaint ourselves
with the strict and holy laws of our religion. Let us consider the discourses of our blessed
Saviour, (especially that divine sermon on the mount,) and the writings of his holy apostles,
where an ingenuous and unbiassed mind may clearly discern those limits and bounds by
which our actions ought to be confined. And then let us never look upon any sin as light
and inconsiderable; but be fully persuaded, that the smallest is infinitely heinous in the sight
of God, and prejudicial to the souls of men; and that, if we had the right sense of things, we
should be as deeply affected with the least irregularities, as now we are with the highest
crimes.

But now, amongst those things which we discover to be sinful, there will be some unto
which, through the disposition of our nature, or long custom, or the endearments of pleasure,
we are so much wedded, that it will be like cutting off the right hand, or pulling out the right
eye, to abandon them. But must we therefore sit down and wait till all difficulties be over,
and every temptation be gone? This were to imitate the fool in the poet, who stood the whole
day at the river-side till all the water should run by. We must not indulge our inclinations,
as we do little children, till they grow weary of the thing they are unwilling to let go. We
must not continue our sinful practices, in hopes that the divine grace will one day overpower
our spirits, and make us hate them for their own deformity.

Let us suppose that we are utterly destitute of any supernatural principle, and want that
taste by which we should discern and abhor perverse things; yet sure we are capable of some
considerations which may be of force to persuade us to this reformation of our lives. If the
inward deformity and heinous nature of sin cannot affect us, at least we may be frightened
by those dreadful consequences that attend it: that same selfish principle which pusheth us
forward unto the pursuit of sinful pleasures, will make us loath to buy them at the rate of
everlasting misery. Thus we may encounter self-love with its own weapons, and employ one
natural inclination for repressing the exorbitancies of another. Let us therefore accustom
ourselves to consider seriously, what a fearful thing it must needs be to irritate and offend
that infinite Being on whom we hang and depend every moment, who needs but to withdraw
his mercies to make us miserable, or his assistance to make us nothing. Let us frequently
remember the shortness and uncertainty of our lives, and how that, after we have taken a
few more turns in the world, and conversed a little longer amongst men, we must all go
down unto the dark and silent grave, and carry nothing along with us but anguish and regret
for all our sinful enjoyments; and then think what horror must needs seize the guilty soul,
to find itself naked and all alone before the severe and impartial Judge of the world, to render
an exact account, not only of its more important and considerable transactions, but of every
word that the tongue hath uttered, and the swiftest and most secret thought that ever passed
through the mind. Let us sometimes represent unto ourselves the terrors of that dreadful
day, when the foundation of the earth shall be shaken, and the heavens shall pass away with
a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, and the present frame of nature
be dissolved, and our eyes shall see the blessed Jesus, (who came once into the world in all
humility to visit us, to purchase pardon for us, and beseech us to accept of it,) now appearing
in the majesty of his glory, and descending from heaven in a flaming fire, to take vengeance
on those that have despised his mercy, and persisted in rebellion against him. When all the
hidden things of darkness shall be brought to light, and the counsels of the heart shall be
made manifest; when those secret impurities and subtle frauds whereof the world did never
suspect us, shall be exposed and laid open to public view, and many thousand actions which
we never dreamed to be sinful, or else had altogether forgotten, shall be charged home upon
our consciences, with such evident convictions of guilt, that we shall neither be able to deny
nor excuse them. Then shall all the angels in heaven, and all the saints that ever lived on the
earth, approve that dreadful sentence which shall be passed on wicked men; and those who
perhaps did love and esteem them when they lived in the world, shall look upon them with
indignation and abhorrence, and never make one request for their deliverance. Let us consider
the eternal punishment of damned souls, which are shadowed forth in Scripture by metaphors
taken from those things that are most terrible and grievous in the world, and yet all do not
suffice to convey into our minds any full apprehensions of them. When we have joined to-
gether the importance of all these expressions, and added unto them whatever our fancy
can conceive of misery and torment, we must still remember, that all this comes infinitely
short of the truth and reality of the thing.

It is true, this is a sad and melancholy subject; there is anguish and horror in the consid-
eration of it; but sure it must be infinitely more dreadful to endure it: and such thoughts as
these may be very useful to fright us from the courses that would lead us thither; how fond
soever we may be of sinful pleasures, the fear of hell would make us abstain. Our most forward
inclinations will startle and give back, when pressed with that question in the prophet, “Who
amongst us can dwell with everlasting burnings?”

To this very purpose it is that the terrors of another world are so frequently represented
in holy writ, and that in such terms as are most proper to affect and influence a carnal mind:
these fears can never suffice to make any person truly good; but certainly they may restrain
us from much evil, and have often made way for more ingenious and kindly impressions.
But it will not suffice to consider these things once and again, nor to form some resolu-
tions of abandoning our sins, unless we maintain a constant guard, and be continually
watching against them. Sometimes the mind is awakened to see the dismal consequences
of a vicious life, and straight we are resolved to reform; but, alas! it presently falleth asleep,
and we lose that prospect which we had of things, and then temptations take the advantage;
they solicit and importune us continually, and so do frequently engage our consent before
we are aware. It is the folly and ruin of most people to live at adventure, and take part in
every thing that comes in their way, seldom considering what they are about to say or do.
If we would have our resolutions take effect, we must take heed unto our ways, and set a
watch before the door of our lips, and examine the motions that arise in our hearts, and
cause them to tell us whence they come, and whither they go; whether it be pride or passion,
or any corrupt and vicious humour, that prompteth us to any design, and whether God will
be offended or any body harmed by it. And if we have no time for long reasonings, let us at
least turn our eyes toward God, and place ourselves in his presence, to ask his leave and
approbation for what we do. Let us consider ourselves under the all-seeing eye of that divine
Majesty, as in the midst of an infinite globe of light, which compasseth us about both behind
and before, and pierceth to the innermost corners of the soul. The sense and remembrance
of the divine presence is the most ready and effectual means, both to discover what is unlaw-
ful, and to restrain us from it. There are some things a person could make a shift to pelliate
or defend, and yet he dares not look Almighty God in the face, and adventure upon them.

If we look unto him we shall be lightened; if we “set him always before us, he will guide us
by his eye, and instruct us in the way wherein we ought to walk.”

This care and watchfulness over our actions must be seconded by frequent and serious
reflections upon them, not only that we may obtain the divine mercy and pardon for our
sins, by an humble and sorrowful acknowledgment of them; but also that we may re-enforce
and strengthen our resolutions, and learn to decline or resist the temptations by which we
have been formerly foiled. It is an advice worthy of a Christian, though it did first drop from
a heathen pen, that before we betake ourselves to rest, we renew and examine all the passages
of the day, that we may have the comfort of what we have done aright, and may redress
what we find to have been done amiss, and make the shipwrecks of one day be as marks to
direct our course in another. This may be called the very art of virtuous living, and would
contribute wonderfully to advance our reformation, and preserve our innocence. But,
withal, we must nor forget to implore the divine assistance, especially against those sins that
do most easily beset us: and though it be supposed that our hearts are not yet moulded into
that spiritual frame which should render our devotions acceptable; yet, methinks, such
considerations as have been proposed to deter us from sin, may also stir us up to some
natural seriousness, and make our prayers against it as earnest, at least, as they are wont to
be against other calamities: and I doubt not but God, who heareth the cry of the ravens, will
have some regard even to such petitions as proceed from those natural passions which
himself hath implanted in us. Besides, that those prayers against sin, will be powerful engage-
ments on ourselves to excite us to watchfulness and care; and common ingenuity will make
us ashamed to relapse into those faults which we have lately bewailed before God, and against
which we have begged his assistance.

Thus are we to make the first essay for recovering the divine life, by restraining the
natural inclinations, that they break not out into sinful practices. But now I must add, that
Christian prudence will teach us to abstain from gratifications that are not simply unlawful,
and that, not only that we may secure our innocence, which would be in continual hazzard,
if we should strain our liberty to the utmost point; but also, that thereby we may weaken
the force of nature, and teach our appetites to obey. We must do with ourselves as prudent
parents with their children, who cross their wills in many little indifferent things, to make
them manageable and submissive in more considerable instances. He who would mortify
the pride and vanity of his spirit, should stop his ears to the most deserved praises, and
sometimes forbear his just vindication from the censures and aspersions of others, especially
if they reflect only upon his prudence and conduct, and not on his virtue and innocence.
He who would check a revengeful humour, would do well to deny himself the satisfaction
of representing unto others the injuries which he hath sustained; and if we would so take
heed to our ways, that we sin not with our tongue, we must accustom ourselves much to
solitude and silence, and sometimes with the Psalmist, “hold our peace even from good,”
till once we have gotten some command over that unruly member. Thus, I say, we may bind
up our natural inclinations, and make our appetites more moderate in their cravings, by
accustoming them to frequent refusals; but it is not enough to have them under violence
and restraint.

Our next essay must be, to wean our affections from created things, and all the delights
and entertainments of the lower life, which sink and depress the souls of men, and retard
their motions towards God and heaven; and this we must do by possessing our minds with
a deep persuasion of the vanity and emptiness of worldly enjoyments. This is an ordinary
theme, and every body can make declamations upon it; but, alas! how few understand or
believe what they say? These notions float in our brains, and come sliding off our tongues,
but we have no deep impression of them on our spirits; we feel not the truth which we pretend
to believe. We can tell, that all the glory and splendour, all the pleasures and enjoyments of
the world are vanity and nothing; and yet these nothings take up all our thoughts, and engross
all our affections; they stifle the better inclinations of our soul, and inveigle us into many a
sin. It may be in a sober mood we give them the slight, and resolve to be no longer deluded
with them; but those thoughts seldom outlive the next temptation; the vanities which we
have shut out at the doors get in at a postern: there are still some pretensions, some hopes
that flatter us; and after we have been frustrated a thousand times, we must be continually
repeating the experiment: the least difference of circumstances is enough to delude us, and
make us expect that satisfaction in one thing which we have missed in another; but could
we once get clearly off, and come to a serious and real contempt of worldly things, this were
a very considerable advancement in our way. The soul of man is of a vigorous and active
nature, and hath in it a raging and unextinguishable thirst, an immaterial kind of fire, always
catching at some object or other, in conjunction wherewith it thinks to be happy; and were
it once rent from the world, and all the bewitching enjoyments under the sun, it would
quickly search after some higher and more excellent object, to satisfy its ardent and impor-
tunate cravings; and, being no longer dazzled with glittering vanities, would fix on that su-
preme and all-sufficient Good, where it would discover such beauty and sweetness as would
charm and overpower all its affections. The love of the world, and the love of God, are like
the scales of a balance; as the one falleth, the other doth rise: when our natural inclinations
prosper, and the creature is exalted in our soul, religion is faint, and doth languish; but when
earthly objects wither away, and lose their beauty, and the soul begins to cool and flag in its
prosecution of them, then the seeds of grace take root, and the divine life begins to flourish
and prevail. It doth, therefore, nearly concern us, to convince ourselves of the emptiness
and vanity of creature-enjoyments, and reason our heart out of love with them: let us seriously
consider all that our reason or our faith, our own experience or the observation of others,
can suggest to this effect: let as ponder the matter over and over, and fix our thoughts on
this truth, till we become really persuaded of it. Amidst all our pursuits and designs, let us
stop and ask ourselves, For what end is all this? At what do I aim? Can the gross and muddy
pleasures of sense, or a heap of white and yellow earth, or the esteem and affection of silly
creatures like myself, satisfy a rational and immortal soul? Have I not tried these things
already? Will they have a higher relish, and yield me more contentment tomorrow than
yesterday, or the next year than they did the last? There may be some little difference betwixt
that which I am now pursuing, and that which I enjoyed before; but sure, my former enjoy-
ments did show as pleasant and promise as fair, before I attained them; like the rainbow,
they looked very glorious at a distance, but when I approached I found nothing but emptiness
and vapour. O what a poor thing would the life of man be, if it were capable of no higher
enjoyments!

I cannot insist on this subject; and there is the less need when I remember to whom I
am writing. Yes, my dear friend, you have had as great experience of the emptiness and
vanity of human things, and have, at present, as few worldly engagements as any that I know.
I have sometimes reflected on those passages of your life wherewith you have been pleased
to acquaint me; and, methinks, through all, I can discern a design of the divine Providence
to wean your affections from every thing here below. The trials you have had of those things
which the world dotes upon, have taught you to despise them; and you have found by exper-
ience, that neither the endowments of nature, nor the advantages of fortune, are sufficient
for happiness; that every rose hath its thorn, and there may be a worm at the foot of the
fairest gourd; some secret and undiscerned grief, which may make a person deserve the pity
of those who, perhaps, do admire or envy their supposed felicity. If any earthly comforts
have got too much of your heart, I think they have been your relations and friends; and the
dearest of these are removed out of the world, so that you must raise your mind towards
heaven when you would think upon them. Thus, God hath provided that your heart may
be loosed from the world, and that he may not have any rival in your affection, which I have
always observed to be so large and unbounded, so noble and disinterested, that no inferior
object can answer or deserve it.

When we have got our corruptions restrained, and our natural appetites and inclinations
towards worldly things in some measure subdued, we must proceed to take such exercises
as have a more immediate tendency to excite and awaken the divine life; and, first, let us
endeavour conscientiously to perform those duties which religion doth require, and
whereunto it would incline us, if it did prevail in our souls. If we cannot get our inward
disposition presently charged, let us study at least to regulate our outward deportment: if
our hearts be not yet inflamed with divine love, let us, however, own our allegiance to that
infinite Majesty, by attending his service and listening to his word, by speaking reverently
of his name and praising his goodness, and exhorting others to serve and obey him. If we
want that charity, and those bowels of compassion which we ought to have towards our
neighbours, yet must we not omit any occasion of doing them good: if our hearts be haughty
and proud, we must, nevertheless study a modest and humble deportment. These external
performances are of little value in themselves, yet they may help us forward to better things.
The apostle indeed telleth us, “that bodily exercise profiteth little:” but he seems not to affirm
that it is altogether useless; it is always good to be doing what we can, for then God is wont
to pity our weakness, and assist our feeble endeavours; and when true charity and humility,
and other graces of the divine Spirit, come to take root in our souls, they will exert themselves
more freely, and with less difficulty, if we have before been accustomed to express them in
our outward conversations. Nor need we fear the imputation of hypocrisy; though our actions
do thus somewhat outrun our affections, seeing they do still proceed from a sense of our
duty; and our design is not to appear better than we are, but that we may really become so.
But as inward acts have a more immediate influence on the soul, to mould it to a right
temper and frame, so ought we to be most frequent and sedulous in the exercise of them.
Let us be often lifting up our hearts toward God; and if we do not say that we love him above
all things, let us at least acknowledge, that it is our duty, and would be our happiness, so to
do: let us lament the dishonour done to him by foolish and sinful men, and applaud the
praises and adorations that are given him by that blessed and glorious company above: let
us resign and yield ourselves up unto him a thousand times, to be governed by his laws, and
disposed of at his pleasure; and though our stubborn hearts should start back and refuse,
yet let us tell him we are convinced that his will is always just and good; and, therefore, desire
him to do with us whatsoever he pleaseth, whether we will or not. And so, for begetting in
us a universal charity towards men, we must be frequently putting up wishes for their hap-
piness, and blessing every person that we see; and when we have done any thing for the relief
of the miserable, we may second it with earnest desires, that God would take care of them,
and deliver them out of all their distresses.

Thus should we exercise ourselves unto godliness, and when we are employing the
powers that we have, the Spirit of God is wont to strike in and elevate these acts of our soul
beyond the pitch of nature, and give them a divine impression; and, after the frequent reit-
eration of these, we shall find ourselves more inclined unto them, they flowing with greater
freedom and ease.

I shall mention but two other means for begetting that holy and divine temper of spirit
which is the subject of the present discourse. And the first is, a deep and serious consideration
of the truths of our religion, and that, both as to the certainty and importance of them.—The
assent which is ordinarily given to divine truth is very faint and languid, very weak and in-
effectual, flowing only from a blind inclination to follow that religion which is in fashion,
or a lazy indifferency and unconcernedness whether things be so or not. Men are unwilling
to quarrel with the religion of their country, and since all their neighbours are Christians,
they are content to be so too: but they are seldom at the pains to consider the evidences of
those truths, or to ponder the importance and tendency of them; and thence it is that they
have so little influence on their affections and practice. Those “spiritless and paralytic
thoughts,” (as one doth rightly term them,) are not able to move the will, and direct the
hand. We must, therefore, endeavour to work up our minds to a serious belief and full per-
suasion of divine truths, unto a sense and feeling of spiritual things: our thoughts must dwell
upon them till we be both convinced of them, and deeply affected with them. Let us urge
forward our spirits, and make them approach the visible world, and fix our minds upon
immaterial things, till we clearly perceive that these are no dreams; nay, that all things are
dreams and shadows beside them. When we look about us, and behold the beauty and
magnificence of this godly frame, the order and harmony of the whole creation, let our
thoughts from thence take their flight towards that omnipotent wisdom and goodness which
did at first produce, and doth still establish and uphold the same. When we reflect upon
ourselves, let us consider that we are not a mere piece of organized matter, a curious and
well-contrived engine; that there is more in us than flesh, and blood, and bones, even a divine
spark, capable to know, and love, and enjoy our Maker; and though it be now exceedingly
clogged with its dull and lumpish companion, yet ere long it shall be delivered, and can
subsist without the body, as well as that can do without the clothes which we throw off at
our pleasure. Let us often withdraw our thoughts from this earth, this scene of misery, and
folly, and sin, and raise them towards that more vast and glorious world, whose innocent
and blessed inhabitants solace themselves eternally in the divine presence, and know no
other passions, but an unmixed joy and an unbounded love. And then consider how the
blessed Son of God came down to this lower world to live among us, and die for us, that he
might bring us to a portion of the same felicity; and think how he hath overcome the
sharpness of death, and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers, and is now set down
on the right hand of the Majesty on high, and yet is not the less mindful of us, but receiveth
our prayers, and presenteth them unto his Father, and is daily visiting his church with the
influences of his Spirit, as the sun reacheth us with his beams.

The serious and frequent consideration of these, and such other divine truths, is the
most proper method to beget that lively faith which is the foundation of religion, the spring
and root of the divine life. Let me further suggest some particular subjects of meditation for
producing the several branches of it. And, first, To inflame our souls with the love of God,
let us consider the excellency of his nature, and his love and kindness towards us. It is little
we know of the divine perfections; and yet that little may suffice to fill our souls with admir-
ation and love, to ravish our affections, as well as to raise our wonder; for we are not merely
creatures of sense, that we should be incapable of any other affection but that which entereth
by the eyes. The character of any excellent person whom we have never seen, will many
times engage our hearts, and make us hugely concerned in all his interests. And what is it,
I pray you, that engages us so much to those with whom we converse? I cannot think that
is merely the colour of their face, in their comely proportions, for then we should fall in love
with statues, and pictures, and flowers. These outward accomplishments may a little delight
the eye, but would never be able to prevail so much on the heart, if they did not represent
some vital perfection. We either see or apprehend some greatness of mind, or vigour of
spirit, or sweetness of disposition; some sprightliness, or wisdom, or goodness, which charm
our spirit and command our love. Now these perfections are not obvious to the sight, the
eyes can only discern the signs and effects of them; and if it be the understanding that directs
our affection, and vital perfections prevail with it, certainly the excellencies of the divine
nature (the traces whereof we cannot but discover in every thing we behold) would not fail
to engage our hearts, if we did seriously view and regard them. Shall we not be infinitely
more transported with that almighty wisdom and goodness which fills the universe, and
displays itself in all the parts of the creation, which establisheth the frame of nature, and
turneth the mighty wheels of Providence, and keepeth the world from disorder and ruin,
than with the faint rays of the very same perfections which we meet with in our fellow-
creatures? Shall we dote on the sacred pieces of a rude and imperfect picture, and never be
affected with the original beauty; This were an unaccountable stupidity and blindness.
Whatever we find lovely in a friend, or in a saint, ought not to engross, but to elevate our
affections: we should conclude with ourselves, that if there be so much sweetness in a drop,
there must be infinitely more in the fountain; if there be so much splendour in a ray, what
must the sun be in its glory?

Nor can we pretend the remoteness of the object, as if God were at too great a distance
for our converse or our love. “He is not far from every one of us; for in him we live, move,
and have our being.” We cannot open our eyes, but we must behold some footsteps of his
glory; and we cannot turn toward him, but we shall be sure to find his intent upon us,
waiting as it were to catch a look, ready to entertain the most intimate fellowship and com-
munion with us. Let us therefore endeavour to raise our minds to the clearest conceptions
of the divine nature. Let us consider all that his works do declare, or his word doth discover
of him unto us; and let us especially contemplate that visible representation of him which
was made in our own nature by his Son, who was the “brightness of his glory, and the express
image of his person,” and who appeared in the world to discover at once what God is, and
what we ought to be. Let us represent him unto our minds as we find him described in the
gospel, and there we shall behold the perfections of the divine nature, though covered with
the vail of human infirmities; and when we have framed unto ourselves the clearest notion
that we can of a Being infinite in power, in wisdom, and goodness, the Author and fountain
of all perfections, let us fix the eyes of our souls upon it, that our eyes may affect our
heart—and while we are musing the fire will burn.

Especially, if we hereunto add the consideration of God’s favour and good-will towards
us; nothing is more powerful to engage our affection, than to find that we are beloved. Ex-
pressions of kindness are always pleasing and acceptable unto us, though the person should
be otherwise mean and contemptible; but to have the love of one who is altogether lovely,
to know that the glorious Majesty of heaven hath any regard unto us, how must it astonish
and delight us, how must it overcome our spirits, and melt our hearts, and put our whole
soul into a flame! Now, as the word of God is full of the expressions of his love towards men,
so all his works do loudly proclaim it. He gave us our being, and, by preserving us in it, doth
renew the donation every moment. He hath placed us in a rich and well-furnished world,
and liberally provided for all our necessities. He raineth down blessings from heaven upon
us, and causeth the earth to bring forth our provision. He giveth us our food and raiment,
and while we are spending the productions of one year, he is preparing for us against another.
He sweeteneth our lives with innumerable comforts, and gratifieth every faculty with suitable
objects. The eye of his providence is always upon us, and he watcheth for our safety when
we are fast asleep, neither minding him nor ourselves. But, lest we should think these testi-
monies of his kindness less considerable, because they are the easy issues of his omnipotent
power, and do not put him to any trouble or pain, he hath taken a more wonderful method
to endear himself to us: he hath testified his affection to us by suffering as well as by doing;
and because he could not suffer in his own nature he assumed ours. The eternal Son of God
did clothe himself with the infirmities of our flesh, and left the company of those innocent
and blessed spirits who knew well how to love and adore him, that he might dwell among
men, and wrestle with the obstinacy of that rebellious race, to reduce them to their allegiance
and felicity, and then to offer himself up as a sacrifice and propitiation for them. I remember
one of the poets hath an ingenious fancy to express the passion wherewith he found himself
overcome after a long resistance: that the god of love had shot all his golden arrows at him,
but could never pierce his heart, till at length he put himself into the bow, and darted himself
straight into his breast. Methinks this doth some way adumbrate God’s method of dealing
with men. He had long contended with a stubborn world, and thrown down many a blessing
upon them; and when all his other gifts could not prevail, he at last made a gift of himself,
to testify his affection and engage theirs. The account which we have of our Saviour’s life
in the gospel, doth all along present us with the story of his love: all the pains that he took,
and the troubles that he endured, were the wonderful effects and uncontrollable evidences
of it. But, O that last, that dismal scene! Is it possible to remember it, and question his
kindness, or deny him ours? Here, here it is, my dear friend, that we should fix our most
serious and solemn thoughts, “that Christ may dwell in our hearts by faith; that we, being
rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth,
and length, and depth, and heighth; and to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge,
that we may be filled with all the fulness of God.”

We ought also frequently to reflect on those particular tokens of favour and love, which
God hath bestowed on ourselves; how long he hath borne with our follies and sins, and
waited to be gracious unto us—wrestling, as it were, with the stubbornness of our hearts,
and essaying every method to reclaim us. We should keep a register in our minds of all the
eminent blessings and deliverances we have met with, some whereof have been so conveyed,
that we might clearly perceive they were not the issues of chance, but the gracious effects of
the divine favour, and the signal returns of our prayers. Nor ought we to imbitter the thoughts
of these things with any harsh or unworthy suspicions, as if they were designed on purpose
to enhance our guilt, and heighten our eternal damnation. No, no, my friend, God is love,
and he hath no pleasure in the ruin of his creatures. If they abuse his goodness, and turn
his grace into wantonness, and thereby plunge themselves into the greater depth of guilt
and misery, this is the effect of their obstinate wickedness, and not the design of those benefits
which he bestows.

If these considerations had once begotten in our hearts a real love and affection towards
almighty God, that would easily lead us unto the other branches of religion; and, therefore,
I shall need say the less of them.

We shall find our hearts enlarged in charity toward men, by considering the relation
wherein they stand unto God, and the impresses of his image which are stamped upon them.
They are not only his creatures, the workmanship of his hands, but such of whom he taketh
special care, and for whom he hath a very dear and tender regard, having laid the designs
of their happiness before the foundations of the world, and being willing to live and converse
with them in all the ages of eternity. The meanest and most contemptible person whom we
behold is the offspring of heaven, one of the children of the Most High; and however un-
worthy he might behave himself of that relation, so long as God hath not abdicated and
disowned him by a final sentence, he will have us to acknowledge him as one of him, and
as such to embrace him with a sincere and cordial affection. You know what a great concern-
ment we are wont to have for those that do any ways belong to the person whom we love;
how gladly we lay hold on every opportunity to gratify the child or servant of a friend; and
sure our love towards God would as naturally spring forth in charity towards men, did we
mind the interest that he is pleased to take in them, and consider that every soul is dearer
unto him than all the material world; and that he did not account the blood of his Son too
great a price for their redemption.

Again, as all men stand in a near relation to God, so they have still so much of his image
stamped on them as may oblige and excite us to love them. In some, this image is more
eminent and conspicuous, and we can discern the lovely traces of wisdom and goodness;
and though in others it may be miserably sullied and defaced, yet it is not altogether
razed—some lineaments at least do still remain. All men are endowed with rational and
immortal souls, with understandings and wills capable of the highest and most exalted
things; and if they be at present disordered, and put out of tune by wickedness and folly,
this may indeed move our compassion, but ought not, in reason, to extinguish our love.
When we see a person of a rugged humour and perverse disposition, full of malice and dis-
simulation, very foolish and very proud, it is hard to fall in love with an object that presents
itself unto us under an idea so little grateful and lovely. But when we shall consider these
evil qualities as the diseases and distempers of a soul, which, in itself, is capable of all that
wisdom and goodness wherewith the best of saints have ever been adorned, and which may,
one day, come to be raised to such heights of perfection as shall render it a fit companion
for the holy angels; this will turn our aversion into pity, and make us behold him with such
resentments as we should have when we look upon a beautiful body that were mangled with
wounds, or disfigured by some loathsome disease; and however we hate the vices, we shall
not cease to love the man.

In the next place, for purifying our souls, and disentangling our affections from the
pleasures and enjoyments of this lower life, let us frequently ponder the excellency and
dignity of our nature, and what a shameful and unworthy thing it is for so noble and divine
a creature as the soul of man, to be sunk and immersed in brutish and sensual lusts, or
amused with airy and fantastical delights, and so to lose the relish of solid and spiritual
pleasures; that the best should be fed and pampered, and the man and the Christian be
starved in us. Did we but mind who we are, and for what we were made, this would teach
us, in a right sense, to reverence and stand in awe of ourselves; it would beget a modesty
and shamefacedness, and make us very shy and reserved in the use of the most innocent
and allowable pleasures.

It will be very effectual to the same purpose, that we frequently raise our minds towards
heaven, and represent to our thoughts the joys that are at God’s right hand, those pleasures
that endure for evermore; “for every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even
as he is pure.” If our heavenly country be much in our thoughts, it will make us as “strangers
and pilgrims, to abstain from fleshly lust, which war against the soul,” and keep ourselves
unspotted from this world, that we may be fit for the enjoyments and felicities of the other.
But then we must see that our notions of heaven be not gross and carnal, that we dream not
of a Mahometan paradise, nor rest on those metaphors and similitudes by which these joys
are sometimes represented: for this might perhaps have a quite contrary effect; it might en-
tangle us farther in carnal affections, and we should be ready to indulge ourselves in a very
liberal foretaste of those pleasures wherein we had placed our everlasting felicity. But when
we come once to conceive aright of those pure and spiritual pleasures; when the happiness
we propose to ourselves is from the sight, and love, and enjoyment of God, and our minds
are filled with the hopes and forethoughts of that blessed estate; O how mean and contempt-
ible will all things here below appear in our eyes! With what disdain shall we reject the gross
and muddy pleasures that would deprive us of those celestial enjoyments, or any way unfit
and indispose us for them!

The last branch of religion is humility, and sure we can never want matter of consider-
ation for begetting it. All our wickednesses and imperfections, all our follies and our sins,
may help to pull down that fond and overweening conceit which we are apt to entertain of
ourselves. That which makes any body esteem us, is their knowledge or apprehension of
some little good, and their ignorance of a great deal of evil that may be in us; were they
thoroughly acquainted with us, they would quickly change their opinion. The thoughts that
pass in our hearts, in the best and most serious day of our life, being exposed unto public
view, would render us either hateful or ridiculous. And now, however we conceal our failings
from one another, yet sure we are conscious of them ourselves, and some serious reflections
upon them would much qualify and allay the vanity of our spirits. Thus holy men have come
really to think worse of themselves, than of any other person in the world: not but that they
knew that gross and scandalous vices are, in their nature, more heinous than the surprisals
of temptations and infirmity; but because they were much more intent on their own miscar-
riages than on those of their neighbours, and did consider all the aggravations of the one,
and every thing that might be supposed to diminish and alleviate the other.

But it is well observed by a pious writer, that the deepest and most pure humility doth
not so much arise from the consideration of our own faults and defects, as from a calm and
quiet contemplation of the divine purity and goodness. Our spots never appear so clearly,
as when we place them before this infinite light; and we never seem less in our own eyes,
than when we look down upon ourselves from on high. O how little, how nothing, do all
these shadows of perfection then appear, for which we are wont to value ourselves! That
humility, which cometh from a view of our own sinfulness and misery, is more turbulent
and boisterous; but the other layeth us full as low, and wanteth nothing of that anguish and
vexation wherewith our souls are apt to boil, when they are the nearest objects of our
thoughts.

There remains yet another means for begetting a holy and religious disposition in the
soul, and that is, fervent and hearty prayer. Holiness is the gift of God—indeed the greatest
gift he doth bestow, or we are capable to recieve; and he hath promised his Holy Spirit to
those who ask it of him. In prayer we make the nearest approaches to God, and lie open to
the influences of heaven; then it is that the Sun of Righteousness doth visit us with his dir-
ectest rays, and dissipateth our darkness, and imprinteth his image on our souls. I cannot
now insist on the advantages of this exercise, or the disposition wherewith it ought to be
performed; and there is no need I should, there being so many books that treat on this
subject. I shall only tell you, that as there is one sort of prayer wherein we make use of the
voice, which is necessary in public, and may sometimes have its own advantages in private;
and another, wherein though we utter no sound, yet we conceive the expressions, and form
the words, as it were, in our minds; so there is a third and more sublime kind of prayer,
wherein the soul takes a higher flight, and having collected all its forces by long and serious
meditation, it darteth itself (if I may so speak) towards God in sighs and groans, and thoughts
too big for expression. As when, after a deep contemplation of the divine perfections appear-
ing in all his works of wonder, it addresseth itself unto him in the profoundest adoration of
his majesty and glory: for, when after sad reflections on its vileness and miscarriages, it
prostrates itself before him with the greatest confusion and sorrow, not daring to lift up its
eyes, or utter one word in his presence; or when, having well considered the beauty of holi-
ness, and the unspeakable felicity of those that are truly good, it panteth after God, and
sendeth up such vigorous and ardent desires as no words can sufficiently express, continuing
and repeating each of these acts, as long as it finds itself upheld by the force and impulse of
the previous meditation.

This mental prayer is of all others the most effectual to purify the soul, and dispose it
unto a holy and religious temper, and may be termed the great secret of devotion, and one
of the most powerful instruments of the divine life; and, it may be, the apostle hath a pecu-
liar respect unto it, when he saith, that “the Spirit helpeth our infirmities, making intercession
for us with groanings that cannot be uttered,” or, as the original may bear, “that cannot be
worded.” Yet I do not so recommend this sort of prayer, as to supersede the use of the other;
for we have so many several things to pray for, and every petition of this nature requireth
so much time, and so great an attention of spirit, that it were not easy therein to overtake
them all: to say nothing, that the deep sighs and heavings of the heart, which are wont to
accompany it, are something oppressive to nature, and make it hard to continue long in
them. But certainly a few of these inward aspirations will do more than a great many fluent
and melting expressions.

Thus, my dear friend, I have briefly proposed the method which I judge proper for
moulding the soul into a holy frame; and the same means which serve to beget this divine
temper, must still be practiced for strengthening and advancing it: and therefore I shall re-
commend but one more for that purpose, and it is the frequent and conscientious use of
that holy sacrament, which is peculiarly appointed to nourish and increase spiritual life,
when once it is begun in the soul. All the instruments of religion do meet together in this
ordinance; and while we address ourselves unto it, we are put to practice all the rules which
were mentioned before. Then it is that we make the severest survey of our actions, and lay
the strictest obligations on ourselves; then are our minds raised up to the highest contempt
of the world, and every grace doth exercise itself with the greatest activity and vigour; all
the subjects of contemplation do there present themselves unto us with the greatest advantage;
and then, if ever, doth the soul make its most powerful sallies toward heaven, and assault it
with a holy and acceptable force. And certainly the neglect or careless performance of this
duty, is one of the chief causes that bedwarfs our religion, and makes us continue of so low
a size.

But it is time I should put a close to this letter, which is grown to a far greater bulk than
at first intended. If these poor papers can do you the smallest service, I shall think myself
very happy in this undertaking; at least I am hopeful you will kindly accept the sincere en-
deavors of a person who would fain acquit himself of some part of that which he owes you.

A PRAYER.

And now, O most gracious God, Father and Fountain of mercy and goodness, who has
blessed us with the knowledge of our happiness, and the way that leadeth unto it! excite in
our souls such ardent desires after the one, as may put us forth to the diligent prosecution
of the other. Let us neither presume on our own strength, nor distrust thy divine assistance:
but while we are doing our utmost endeavours, teach us still to depend on thee for success.
Open our eyes, O God, and teach us out of thy law. Bless us with an exact and tender sense
of our duty, and a knowledge to discern perverse things. O that our ways were directed to
keep thy statutes, then shall we not be ashamed when we have respect unto all thy command-
ments. Possess our hearts with a generous and holy disdain of all those poor enjoyments
which this world holdeth out to allure us, that they may never be able to inveigle our affec-
tions, or betray us to any sin: turn away our eyes from beholding vanity, and quicken thou
us in thy law. Fill our souls with such a deep sense, and full persuasion of those great truths
which thou hast revealed in the gospel, as may influence and regulate our whole conversation;
and that the life which we henceforth live in the flesh, we may life through faith in the Son
of God. O that the infinite perfections of thy blessed nature, and the astonishing expressions
of thy goodness and love, may conquer and overpower our hearts, that they may be constantly
rising toward thee in flames of devoutest affection, and enlarging themselves in sincere and
cordial love towards all the world for thy sake; and that we may cleanse ourselves from all
filthiness of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in thy fear, without which we can never
hope to behold and enjoy thee. Finally, O God! grant that the consideration of what thou
art, and what we ourselves are, may both humble and lay us low before thee, and also stir
up in us the strongest and most ardent aspiration towards thee. We desire to resign and give
up ourselves to the conduct of thy Holy Spirit; lead us in thy truth, and teach us, for thou
art the God of our salvation; guide us with thy counsel, and afterwards recieve us unto glory,
for the merits and intercession of thy blessed Son our Saviour. Amen.