On the Excellency of Religion and Divine Love

And now, my dear friend, having discovered the nature of true religion, before I proceed
any further, it will not perhaps be unfit to fix our meditations a little on the excellency and
advantages of it, that we may be excited to the more vigorous and diligent prosecution of
those methods whereby we may attain so great a felicity. But, alas! what words shall we find
to express that inward satisfaction, those hidden pleasures, which can never be rightly un-
derstood but by those holy souls that feel them? “A stranger intermeddleth not with their
joys.” Holiness is the right temper, the vigorous and healthful constitution of the soul. Its
faculties had formerly been enfeebled and disordered, so that they could not exercise their
natural functions; it had wearied itself with endless tossings and rollings, and was never able
to find any rest. Now that distemper being removed, it feels itself well; there is due harmony
in its faculties, and a sprightly vigour possesseth every part. The understanding can discern
what is good, and the will can cleave to it. The affections are not tied to the motions of sense
and the influence of external objects, but they are stirred by more divine impressions, are
touched by a sense of invisible things.

Let us descend, if you please, into a nearer and more particular view of religion, in those
several branches of it which were named before. Let us consider that love and affection
wherewith holy souls are united to God, that we may see what excellency and felicity is in-
volved in it. Love is that powerful and prevalent passion, by which all the faculties and in-
clinations of the soul are determined, and on which both its perfection and happiness depend.

The worth and excellency of a soul is to be measured by the object of its love. He who loveth
mean and sordid things doth thereby become base and vile, but a noble and well-placed af-
fection doth advance and improve the spirit into a conformity with the perfections which
it loves. The images of these do frequently present themselves unto the mind, and, by a
secret force and energy, insinuate into the very constitution of the soul, and mould and
fashion it unto their own likeness. Hence we may see how easily lovers or friends do slide
into the imitation of the persons whom they affect; and how, even before they are aware,
they begin to resemble them, not only in the more considerable instances of their deportment,
but also in their voice and gesture, and that which we call their mien or air; and certainly
we should as well transcribe the virtues and inward beauties of the soul, if they were the
object and motive of our love. But now, as all the creatures we converse with have their
mixture and alloy, we are always in hazard to be sullied and corrupted by placing our affec-
tions on them. Passion doth easily blind our eyes, so that we first approve, and then imitate
the things that are blameable in them. The true way to improve and ennoble our souls is,
by fixing our love on the divine perfections, that we may have them always before us, and
derive an impression of them on ourselves; and, “beholding with open face, as in a glass,
the glory of the Lord, we may be changed into the same image, from glory to glory.” He
who, with a generous and holy ambition, hath raised his eyes towards that uncreated beauty
and goodness, and fixed his affection there, is quite of another spirit, of a more excellent
and heroic temper, than the rest of the world, and cannot but infinitely disdain all mean
and unworthy things; will not entertain any low or base thoughts which might disparage
his high and noble pretensions. Love is the greatest and most excellent thing we are masters
of and therefore it is folly and baseness to bestow it unworthily. It is indeed the only thing
we can call our own: other things may be taken from us by violence, but none can ravish
our love. If any thing else be counted ours by giving our love, we give all, so far as we make
over our hearts and wills, by which we possess our other enjoyments. It is not possible to
refuse him any thing, to whom by love we have given ourselves; nay, since it is the privilege
of gifts to receive their value from the mind of the giver, and not to be measured by the
event, but by the desire, he who loveth may, in some sense, be said not only to bestow all
that he hath, but all things else which may make the beloved person happy; since he doth
heartily wish them, and would really give them if they were in his power: in which sense it
is that one makes to say, “That divine love doth, in a manner, give God unto himself, by the
complacency it takes in the happiness and perfection of his nature.” But though this may
seem too strained an expression, certainly love is the worthiest present we can offer unto
God, and it is extremely debased when we bestow it another way.

When this affection is misplaced, it doth often vent itself in such expressions as point
at its genuine and proper object, and insinuate where it ought to be placed. The flattering
and blasphemous terms of adoration, wherein men do sometimes express their passion, are
the language of that affection which was made and designed for God; as he who is accustomed
to speak to some great person, doth perhaps, unawares, accost another with those titles he
was wont to give him; but certainly that passion which accounteth its object a deity, ought
to be bestowed on him who really is so. Those unlimited submissions, which would debase
the soul if directed to any other, will exalt and ennoble it when placed here. Those chains
and cords of love are infinitely more glorious than liberty itself; this slavery is more noble
than all the empires in the world.

Again, As divine love doth advance and elevate the soul, so it is that alone which can
make it happy. The highest and most ravishing pleasures, the most solid and substantial
delights that human nature is capable of, are those which arise from the endearments of a
well-placed and successful affection. That which imbitters love, and makes it ordinarily a
very troublesome and hurtful passion, is the placing it on those who have not worth enough
to deserve it, or affection and gratitude to requite it, or whose absence may deprive us of
the pleasure of their converse, or their miseries occasion our trouble. To all these evils are
they exposed, whose chief and supreme affection is placed on creatures like themselves; but
the love of God delivers us from them all.

First, I say, love must needs be miserable, and full of trouble and disquietude, when
there is not worth and excellency enough in the object to answer the vastness of its capacity.
So eager and violent a passion cannot but fret and torment the spirit, when it finds not
wherewith to satisfy its cravings; and, indeed, so large and unbounded in its nature, that it
must be extremely pinched and straitened, when confined to any creature: nothing below
an infinite good can afford it room to stretch itself, and exert its vigour and activity. What!
is a little skin-deep beauty, or some small degrees of goodness, to match or satisfy a passion
which was made for God: designed to embrace an infinite good? No wonder lovers do so
hardly suffer any rival, and do not desire that others should approve their passions by imit-
ating it; they know the scantiness and narrowness of the good which they love, that it cannot
suffice two, being in effect too little for one. Hence love, “which is as strong as death;” occa-
sioneth “jealousy which is as cruel as the grave,” the coals whereof are coals of fire, which
hath a most violent flame.

But divine love hath no mixture of this gall. When once the soul is fixed on that supreme
and all-sufficient good, it finds so much perfection and goodness, as doth not only answer
and satisfy its affection, but master and overpower it too. It finds all its love to be too faint
and languid for such a noble object, and is only sorry that it can command no more. It
wisheth for the flames of a seraph, and longs for the time when it shall be wholly melted
and dissolved into love; and because it can do so little itself, it desires the assistance of the
whole creation, that angels and men would conquer with it the admiration and love of those
infinite perfections.

Again, Love is accompanied with trouble, when it misseth a suitable return of affection.
Love is the most valuable thing we can bestow, and by giving it, we do, in effect, give all that
we have; and therefore it must needs be afflicting to find so great a gift despised, that the
present which one hath made of his whole heart, cannot prevail to obtain any return. Perfect
love is a kind of self-dereliction, a wandering out of ourselves; it is a kind of voluntary death,
wherein the lover dies to himself, and all his own interests, nor thinking of them, nor caring
for them any more, and minding nothing but how he may please and gratify the party whom
he loves. Thus he is quite undone, unless he meets with reciprocal affection; he neglects
himself, and the other hath no regard to him: but if he be beloved, he is revived, as it were,
and liveth in the soul and care of the person whom he loves; and now he begins to mind his
own concernments, not so much because they are his, as because the beloved is pleased to
own an interest in them: he becomes dear unto himself, because he is so unto the other.
But why should I enlarge in so known a matter? Nothing can be more clear than that
the happiness of love depends on the return it meets with: and herein the divine lover hath
unspeakably the advantage, having placed his affection on him whose nature is love, whose
goodness is as infinite as his being, whose mercy prevented us when we were his enemies,
therefore cannot choose but embrace us when we are become his friends. It is utterly im-
possible that God should deny his love to a soul wholly devoted to him, and which desires
nothing so much as to serve and please him; he cannot disdain his own image, nor the heart
in which it is engraven. Love is all the tribute which we can pay him, and it is the sacrifice
which he will not despise.

Another thing which disturbs the pleasure of love, and renders it a miserable and unquiet
passion, is absence and separation from those we love. It is not without a sensible affliction
that friends do part, though for some little time: it is sad to be deprived of that society which
is so delightful; our life becomes tedious, being spent in an impatient expectation of the
happy hour wherein we may meet again: but if death has made the separation, as some time
or other it must, this occasions a grief scarce to be paralleled by all the misfortunes of human
life, and wherein we may pay dear enough for the comforts of our friendship. But O how
happy are those who have placed their love on him who can never be absent from them!
They need but open their eyes, and they shall every where behold the traces of his presence
and glory, and converse with him whom their soul loveth; and this makes the darkest prison,
or wildest desert, not only supportable, but delightful to them.

In fine, A lover is miserable, if the person whom be loveth be so. They who have made
an exchange of hearts by love, get thereby an interest in one another’s happiness and misery;
and this makes love a troublesome passion, when placed on earth. The most fortunate person
hath grief enough to mar the tranquillity of his friend; and it is hard to hold out, when we
are attacked on all hands, and suffer not only in our own person, but in another’s. But if
God were the object of our love, we should share in an infinite happiness, without any
mixture or possibility of diminution; we should rejoice to behold the glory of God, and receive
comfort and pleasure from all the praises wherewith men and angels do extol him. It should
delight us, beyond all expression, to consider, that the beloved of our souls is infinitely happy
in himself, and that all his enemies cannot shake or unsettle his throne: “that our God is in
the heavens, and doth whatever he pleaseth.”

Behold, on what sure foundation his happiness is built, whose soul is possessed with
divine love, whose will is transformed into the will of God, and whose great desire is, that
his Maker should be pleased! O the peace, the rest, the satisfaction that attendeth such a
temper of mind!

What an infinite pleasure must it needs be, thus, as it were, to lose ourselves in him,
and, being swallowed up in the overcoming sense of his goodness, to offer ourselves a living
sacrifice, always ascending unto him in flames of love! Never doth a soul know what solid
joy and substantial pleasure is, till once, being weary of itself, it renounce all propriety, give
itself up unto the Author of its being, and feel itself become a hallowed and devoted thing,
and can say, from an inward sense and feeling, “My beloved is mine,” (I account all his in-
terest mine own,) “and I am his:” I am content to be any thing for him, and care not for
myself, but that I may serve him. A person, moulded into this temper, would find pleasure
in all the dispensations of Providence: temporal enjoyments would have another relish,
when he should taste the divine goodness in them, and consider them as tokens of love, sent
by his dearest Lord and Maker: and chastisements, though they be not joyous, but grievous,
would hereby lose their sting, the rod as well as the staff would comfort him: he would snatch
a kiss from the hand that was smiting him, and gather sweetness from that severity; nay, he
would rejoice, that though God did not the will of such a worthless and foolish creature as
himself, yet he did his own will, and accomplished his own designs, which are infinitely
more holy and wise.

The exercises of religion, which to others are insipid and tedious, do yield the highest
pleasures and delight to souls possessed with divine love. They rejoice when they are called
“to go up to the house of the Lord,” that they may “see his power and his glory, as they have
formerly seen it in the sanctuary.” They never think themselves so happy, as when, having
retired from the world, and gotten free from the noise and hurry of affairs, and silenced all
their clamorous passions (those troublesome guests within,) they have placed themselves
in the presence of God, and entertain fellowship and communion with him: they delight to
adore his perfections, and recount his favours,—and to protest their affection to him, and
tell him a thousand times that they love him; to lay their troubles or wants before him, and
disburden their hearts in his bosom. Repentance itself is a delightful exercise, when it floweth
from the principle of love. There is a secret sweetness which accompanieth those tears of
remorse, those meltings and relentings of a soul returning unto God, and lamenting its
former unkindness.

The severities of a holy life, and that constant watch which we are obliged to keep over
our hearts and ways, are very troublesome to those who are only ruled and acted by an ex-
ternal law, and have no law in their minds inclining them to the performance of their duty:
but where divine love possesseth the soul, it stands as sentinel to keep out every thing that
may offend the beloved, and doth disdainfully repulse those temptations which assault it:
it complieth cheerfully, not only with explicit commands, but with the most secret notices
of the beloved’s pleasure, and is ingenious in discovering what will be most grateful and
acceptable unto him: it makes mortification and self-denial change their harsh and dreadful
names, and become easy, sweet, and delightful things.

But I find this part of my letter swell bigger than I designed, (indeed who would not be
tempted to dwell on so pleasant a theme!) I shall endeavour to compensate it by brevity in
the other points.

The next branch of the Divine Life, is a universal charity and love. The excellency of
this grace will be easily acknowledged; for what can be more noble and generous than a
heart enlarged to embrace the whole world, whose wishes and designs are levelled at the
good and welfare of the universe, which considereth every man’s interest as its own? He
who loveth his neighbour as himself, can never entertain any base or injurious thought, or
be wanting in expressions of bounty. He had rather suffer a thousand wrongs, than be guilty
of one; and never accounts himself happy, but when some one or other hath been benefited
by him: the malice or ingratitude of men is not able to resist his love: he overlooks their in-
juries, and pities their folly, and overcomes their evil with good: and never designs any
other revenge against his most bitter and malicious enemies, than to put all objections he
can upon them, whether they will or not. Is it any wonder that such a person be reverenced
and admired, and accounted the darling of mankind? This inward goodness and benignity
of spirit reflects a certain sweetness and serenity upon the very countenance, and makes it
amiable and lovely: it inspireth the soul with a holy resolution and courage, and makes it
capable of enterprising and effecting the highest things. Those heroic actions which we are
wont to read with admiration, have, for the most part, been the effects of the love of one’s
country, or of particular friendships: and, certainly, a more extensive and universal affection
must be much more powerful and efficacious.

Again, As charity flows from a noble and excellent temper, so it is accompanied with
the greatest satisfaction and pleasure: it delights the soul to feel itself thus enlarged, and to
be delivered from those disquieting, as well as deformed passions, malice, hatred, and envy;
and become gentle, sweet, benign. Had I my choice of all things that might tend to my
present felicity, I would pitch upon this, to have my heart possessed with the greatest kindness
and affection towards all men in the world. I am sure this would make me partake in all the
happiness of others: their inward endowments and outward prosperity; every thing that did
benefit and advantage them would afford me comfort and pleasure: and though I should
frequently meet with occasions of grief and compassion, yet there is a sweetness in commis-
eration, which makes it infinitely more desirable than a stupid insensibility: and the consid-
eration of that infinite goodness and wisdom which governs the world, might repress any
excessive trouble for particular calamities that happen in it: and the hopes or possibility of
men’s after happiness, might moderate their sorrow for their present misfortunes. Certainly,
next to the love and enjoyment of God, that ardent charity and affection wherewith blessed
souls do embrace one another, is justly to be reckoned as the greatest felicity of those regions
above; and did it universally prevail in the world, it would anticipate that blessedness, and
make us taste of the joys of heaven upon earth.

That which I named as a third branch of religion, was purity; and you may remember
I described it to consist in a contempt of sensual pleasures, and resoluteness to undergo
those troubles and pains we may meet with in the performance of our duty. Now, the
naming of this may suffice to recommend it as a most noble and excellent quality. There is
no slavery so base, as that whereby a man becomes a drudge to his own lusts: nor any victory
so glorious, as that which is obtained over them. Never can that person be capable of any
thing that is noble or worthy, who is sunk in the gross and seculent pleasures of sense, or
bewitched with the light and airy gratifications of fancy: but the religious soul is of a more
sublime and divine temper; it knows it was made for higher things, and scorns to step aside
one foot out of the ways of holiness, for the obtaining any of these.

And this purity is accompanied with a great deal of pleasure. Whatsoever defiles the
soul disturbs it too; all impure delights have a sting in them, and leave smart and trouble
behind them. Excess and intemperance, and all inordinate lusts, are so much enemies to
the health of the body, and the interest of this present life, that a little consideration might
oblige any rational man to forbear them on that very score; and if the religious person go
higher, and do not only abstain from noxious pleasures, but neglect those that are innocent,
this is not to be looked upon as any violent and uneasy restraint, but as the effect of better
choice, that their minds are taken up in the pursuit of more sublime and refined delights,
so that they cannot be concerned in these. Any person that is engaged in a violent and pas-
sionate affection, will easily forget his ordinary gratifications, will be little curious about his
diet, or his bodily ease, or the divertisements he was wonted to delight in. No wonder then,
if souls overpowered with divine love despise inferior pleasures, and be almost ready to
grudge the body its necessary attendance for the common accommodations of life, judging
all these impertinent to their main happiness, those higher enjoyments they are pursuing.
As for the hardships they may meet with, they rejoice in them, as opportunities to exercise
and testify their affection; and since they are able to do so little for God, they are glad of the
honour to suffer for him.

The last branch of religion is humility; and however to vulgar and carnal eyes this may
appear an abject, base, and despicable quality, yet really the soul of man is not capable of a
higher and more noble endowment. It is a silly ignorance that begets pride. But humility
arises from a nearer acquaintance with excellent things, which keeps men from doting on
trifles, or admiring themselves because of some petty attainments. Noble and well-educated
souls have no such high opinion of riches, beauty, strength, and other such like advantages,
as to value themselves for them, or despise those that want them. And as for inward worth
and real goodness, the sense they have of the divine perfections, makes them think very
meanly of any thing they have hitherto attained, and be still endeavouring to surmount
themselves, and make nearer approaches to those infinite excellencies which they admire.
I know not what thoughts people may have of humility, but I see almost every person
pretending to it, and shunning such expressions and actions as may make them be accounted
arrogant and presumptuous, so that those who are most desirous of praise will be loathe to
commend themselves. What are those compliments and modes of civility, so frequent in
our ordinary converse, but so many protestations of the esteem of others, and the low
thoughts we have of ourselves? And must not that humility be a noble and excellent endow-
ment, when the very shadows of it are accounted so necessary a part of good breeding?

Again, This grace is accompanied with a great deal of happiness and tranquility. The
proud and arrogant person is a trouble to all that converse with him, but most of all unto
himself: every thing is enough to vex him; but scarce any thing sufficient to content and
please him. He is ready to quarrel with any thing that falls out; as if he himself were such a
considerable person, that God Almighty should do every thing to gratify him, and all the
creatures of heaven and earth should wait upon him, and obey his will. The leaves of high
trees do shake with every blast of wind; and every breath, every evil word will disquiet and
torment an arrogant man. But the humble person hath the advantage when he is despised,
that none can think more meanly of him than he doth of himself; and therefore he is not
troubled at the matter, but can easily bear those reproaches which wound the other to the
soul. And withal, as he is less affected with injuries, so indeed he is less obnoxious unto
them. “Contention which cometh from pride,” betrays a man into a thousand inconveniences,
which those of a meek and lowly temper seldom meet with. True and genuine humility be-
getteth both a veneration and love among all wise and discerning persons, while pride de-
feateth its own design, and deprives a man of that honour it makes him pretend to.
But as the chief exercises of humility are those which relate unto Almighty God, so these
are accompanied with the greatest satisfaction and sweetness. It is impossible to express the
great pleasure and delight which religious persons feel in the lowest prostration of their
souls before God, when, having a deep sense of the divine majesty and glory, they sink (if I
may so speak) to the bottom of their beings, and vanish and disappear in the presence of
God, by a serious and affectionate acknowledgment of their own nothingness, and the
shortness and imperfections of their attainments; when they understand the full sense and
emphasis of the Psalmist’s exclamation, “Lord! what is man?” and can utter it with the same
affection. Never did any haughty and ambitious person receive the praises and applauses
of men with so much pleasure, as the humble and religious do renounce them: “Not unto
us, O Lord! not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth’s
sake.”

Thus I have spoken something of the excellencies and advantages of religion in its sev-
eral branches; but should be very injurious to the subject, did I pretend to have given any
perfect account of it. Let us acquaint ourselves with it, and experience will teach us more
than all that ever hath been spoken or written concerning it. But, if we may suppose the soul
to be already awakened unto some longing desires after so great a blessedness, it will be
good to give them vent, and suffer them to issue forth in some such aspirations as these:

A PRAYER.

Good God! what a mighty felicity is this to which we are called! How graciously hast
thou joined our duty and happiness together, and prescribed that for our work, the perform-
ance whereof is a great reward! And shall such silly worms be advanced to so great a height?
Wilt thou allow us to raise our eyes to thee? Wilt thou admit and accept our affection? Shall
we receive the impression of thy divine excellencies, by beholding and admiring them,—and
partake of thy infinite blessedness and glory, by loving thee, and rejoicing in thee? O the
happiness of those souls that have broken the fetters of self-love, and disentangled their af-
fection from every narrow and particular good! whose understandings are enlightened by
thy Holy Spirit, and their wills enlarged to the extent of thine! who love thee above all things,
and all mankind for thy sake! I am persuaded, O God, I am persuaded, that I can never be
happy, till my carnal and corrupt affections be mortified, and the pride and vanity of my
spirit be subdued, and till I come seriously to despise the world, and think nothing of myself.
But O when shall it once be? O when wilt thou come unto me, and satisfy my soul with thy
likeness, making me holy as thou art holy, even in all manner of conversation? Hast thou
given me a prospect of so great a felicity, and wilt thou not bring me unto it? Hast thou excited
these desires in my soul, and wilt thou not also satisfy them? O teach me to do thy will, for
thou art my God; thy Spirit is good, lead me unto the land of uprightness. Quicken me, O
Lord, for thy name’s sake, and perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O Lord, endureth
for ever, forsake not the works of thine own hands.”