Meditations and Vows, Divine and Moral — Hall, Meditations and Vows

MEDITATIONS AND VOWS, &c.

I .

In meditation, those who begin heavenly thoughts, and prosecute them not, are like those that kindle a fire under green wood, and leave it, as soon as it begins to flame. When I set myself to meditate, I will not give over, till I come to an issue. It has been said by some, that the beginning is as much as the middle; yea, more: but I say, the ending is more than the beginning.

II .

There is nothing, but man, that respects greatness: not God; not death; not judgment. Not God: He is no accepter of persons. Not nature: we see the sons of princes born as naked as the poorest: and the poor child as fair, well-favoured, strong, and witty, as the heir of nobles. Not disease, death, judgment: they sicken alike, die alike, fare alike after death. There is nothing, besides natural men, of whom goodness is not respected. I will honour greatness in others: but for myself, I will esteem a dram of goodness, worth a whole world of greatness.

III .

As there is a foolish wisdom, so there is a wise ignorance; in not prying into God's ark; not enquiring into things not revealed. I would fain know all that I need, and all that I may: I leave God's secrets to Himself. It is happy for me, that God makes me of his court, though not of his council.

IV .

I see that in natural motions, the nearer any thing comes to its end, the swifter it moves. I have seen great rivers, which at their first rising out of some hill's side, might be covered with a bushel; which, after many miles, fill a very broad channel; and drawing near to the sea, make a little sea in their own banks: so the wind at the first rising, as a little vapour from the crannies of the earth, and passing forward about the earth, the further it goes, the more blustering and violent it waxes. A Christian's motion (after he is regenerate) is made natural to God-ward: and therefore, the nearer he comes to heaven, the more zealous he is. A good man must not be like Hezekiah's sun, that went backward; nor like Joshua's sun, that stood still; but David's sun, that, like a bridegroom, comes out of his chamber, and as a champion rejoices to run his race: only, herein is the difference, that when he comes to his high noon, he declines not. However, therefore, the mind, in her natural faculties, follows the temperature of the body, yet in these supernatural things, she quite crosses it. For with the coldest complexion of age, is joined in those that are truly religious, the ferventest zeal and affection to good things: which is therefore the more reverenced, and better acknowledged, because it cannot be ascribed to the hot spirits of youth. The devil himself devised that old slander of early holiness; A young saint, an old devil. Sometimes young devils have proved old saints; never the contrary: but true saints in youth, do always prove angels in their age. I will strive to be ever good; but if I should not find myself best at last, I should fear I was never good at all.

V .

As we say, there would be no thieves, if no receivers: so would there not be so many open mouths to detract and slander, if there were not so many open ears to entertain them. If I cannot stop another man's mouth from speaking ill, I will either open my mouth to reprove it, or else I will stop mine ears from hearing it; and let him see in my face, that he has no room in my heart.

VI .

Conversing with evil companions, works in us, if not an approbation, yet a less dislike of those sins, to which our ears and eyes are so continually inured. I may have had a bad acquaintance: I will never have a bad companion.

VII .

God is not like man: but in whatever He promises, He proves Himself most faithful. I will therefore ever trust God on his bare word; even with hope, besides hope, above hope, against hope. How shall I trust Him in impossibilities, if I may not in likelihoods? How shall I depend on Him for raising my body from dust, and saving my soul, if I mistrust Him for a crust of bread?

VIII .

Constraint makes an easy thing toilsome; whereas love makes the greatest toil pleasant. How many miles do we ride and run, to see one silly beast follow another, which if we were commanded to measure, upon the charge of a superior, we should complain of weariness. I see the folly of most men, that make their lives miserable, for want of love to that they must do. I will first labour to settle in my heart a good affection to heavenly things: so, LORD, thy yoke shall be easy, and thy burden light.

IX .

There are three messengers of death; casualty, sickness, age. The two first are doubtful; since many have recovered them both: the last is certain. The two first are sudden: the last leisurely and deliberate. As for all men, upon so many summons, so especially for an old man, it is a shame to be unprepared for death: for where others see they may die, he sees he must die. I was long ago old enough to die: but if I live till age, I shall think myself too old to live longer.

X .

If earth (that is provided for mortality, and is possessed by the Maker's enemies) have so much pleasure in it, such a sun to enlighten it, such an heaven to wall it about, such sweet fruits and flowers to adorn it, such variety of creatures, for commodious use of it: what must heaven be, that is provided for God Himself, and his friends?

XI .

I will use my friend as Moses did his rod: while it was a rod, he held it familiarly in his hand: when a serpent, he ran away from it.

XII .

The world teaches me, that it is madness to leave behind me those goods that I may carry away with me. Christianity teaches me, that what I give alive, I carry with me dead: and experience teaches me, that what I leave behind, I lose. I will carry that treasure with me by giving it, which the worldling loses by keeping it: so while his corpse shall carry nothing but a winding-cloth to his grave, I shall be richer under the earth, than I was above it.

XIII .

With men it is a good rule; to try first, and then to trust: with God it is contrary. I will first trust Him, as most wise, omnipotent, merciful, and try Him afterwards. I know it is as impossible for Him to deceive me, as not to be.

XIV .

As CHRIST was both a lamb and a lion: so is every Christian; a lamb, for patience in suffering, and innocence of life: a lion, for boldness in his innocency. I would so order my courage and mildness, that I may be neither lion-like in my conversation, nor sheepish in the defence of a good cause.

XV .

He was never good man that amends not. For if he were good, he must needs desire to be better. Grace is so sweet, that whoever tastes of it, must needs long after more: and if he desire it, he will endeavour it; and if he do but endeavour, God will crown it with success. Whatever becomes of my body, or my estate, I will ever labour to find somewhat added to the stature of my soul.

XVI .

Men are niggardly, because the more they give, the less they have: but Thou, LORD, mayst give what Thou wilt, without abatement of thy store. Good prayers never came weeping home: I am sure I shall receive either what I do ask, or what I should ask.

XVII .

With God there is no free man, but his servant, though in the gallies: no slave but the sinner, though in the palace: none noble but the virtuous, if never so basely descended: none rich, but he that possesses God, even in rags: none wise, but he that is a fool to himself and the world: none happy, but he whom the world pities: let me be free, noble, rich, wise, and happy to God, I care not what I am to the world.

XVIII .

When the mouth prays, man hears; when the heart, God hears. Every good prayer knocks at heaven for a blessing: but an importunate prayer pierces it, and makes way into the ears of the Almighty. And as it ascends lightly up, carried with the wings of faith; so it comes ever laden down upon our heads.

XIX .

It is fitter for youth to learn, than teach; and for age to teach, than learn: and yet fitter for an old man to learn than to be ignorant. I know I shall never know so much, that I cannot learn more; and I hope I shall never live so long, as till I be too old to learn.

XX .

I never loved those salamanders, that are never well but when they are in the fire of contention. I will rather suffer a thousand wrongs, than offer one: I will suffer an hundred, rather than return one: I will suffer many ere I complain of one, and endeavour to right it by contending. I have ever found, that to strive with my superior, is furious; with my equal, doubtful; with my inferior, sordid and base; with any, full of unquietness.

XXI .

I will hate popularity (as ever dangerous; but most of all in God's business) which whoso affect, do as ill spokesmen; who, when they are sent to woo for God, speak for themselves. I know how dangerous it is to have God my rival.

XXII .

God is ever with me, ever before me. I know He cannot but see me always; though my eyes be held that I see Him not: yea, He is still within me, though I feel Him not: neither is there any moment that I can live without God. Why do I not, therefore, always live with Him? Why do I not account all hours lost, wherein I enjoy Him not?

XXIII .

God is LORD of my body also; and therefore, challenges as well reverent gesture, as inward devotion. I will ever, in my prayers, either stand, as a servant, before my master; or kneel, as a subject, to my prince.

XXIV .

The common fears of the world are causeless, and ill placed. No man fears to do ill; every man to suffer ill: wherein, if we consider it well, we shall find that we fear our best friends. For my part, I have learned more of God and of myself, in one week's extremity, than all my whole life's prosperity had taught me before. And, in reason and common experience, prosperity usually makes us forget our death: adversity, on the other side, makes us neglect our life. Now (if we measure both of these, by their effects) forgetfulness of death makes us secure: neglect of this life makes us careful of a better. So much therefore, as neglect of life is better than forgetfulness of death, and watchfulness better than security: so much more beneficial will I esteem adversity, than prosperity.

XXV .

Every sickness is a little death. I will be content to die oft, that I may die once well.

XXVI .

In divine things, I would fain keep that I have, and get that I want. I do not more loath all other covetousness, than I affect this. In these things alone, I profess never to have enough. If I may increase them, either by labouring, begging, or usury, I shall leave no means unattempted.

XXVII .

Some children are of that nature, that they are never well, but while the rod is over them: such am I to God. Let Him beat me, so He amend me: let Him take all away from me, so He give me Himself.

XXVIII .

I will account no sin little; since there is not the least, but works the death of the soul. It is all one, whether I be drowned near the shore, or in the midst of the sea.

XXIX .

Extremity distinguishes friends. Worldly pleasures, like physicians, give us over when we lie a dying; and yet the death-bed has most need of comforts. CHRIST stands by his, in the pangs of death; and after death at the bar of judgment; not leaving them either in their bed, or grave. I will use them therefore; not trust them. But for Thee, O my LORD, who in mercy and truth canst not fail me, (whom I have found ever faithful and present in all extremities) kill me, yet will I trust in Thee.

XXX .

We have heard of so many thousand generations passed, and we have seen so many hundreds die within our knowledge; that I wonder any man can make account to live one day. I will die daily. That is not done before the time, which may be done at all times.

XXXI .

What is man to the whole earth? What is earth to the heaven? What is heaven to its Maker? I will admire nothing in itself; but all things in God, and God in all things.

XXXII .

In suffering evil, to look to second causes, without respect to the highest, makes impatience. For so we bite at the stone, and neglect him that threw it. If we take a blow at our equal, we return it with usury: if of a prince, we repine not. What matter is it, if God kill me, whether he do it by an ague, or by the hand of a tyrant? Again, in expectation of good, to look to the first cause, without care of the second, argues idleness, and causes want. As we cannot help ourselves, without God: so God will not ordinarily help us, without ourselves. In both, I will look up to God, without repining at the means in one, or trusting them in the other.

XXXIII .

I will not be so merry as to forget God; nor so sorrowful, as to forget myself.

XXXIV .

As nothing makes so strong and mortal hostility, as discord in religion: so nothing in the world unites men's hearts so firmly, as the bond of faith. For, whereas there are three grounds of friendship, virtue, pleasure, profit; and by all confessions, that is the surest, which is upon virtue: it must needs follow, that what is grounded on the best, and most heavenly virtue, must be the fastest: which, as it unites man to God so inseparably, that no temptations, no torments, not all the gates of hell can sever him; so it unites one Christian soul to another so firmly, that no outward occurrences, no imperfections in the party loved, can dissolve them.

XXXV .

The duty, that is deferred upon a conceit of present unfitness, at last grows irksome; and thereupon altogether neglected. I will not suffer my heart to entertain the least thought of loathing towards the task of devotion: but violently break through any unwillingness; not without a deep check to myself, for my backwardness.

XXXVI .

Though time be precious to me (as all irrevocable things deserve to be) and of all other things, I would not be lavish of it; yet I will account no time lost, that is either lent to, or bestowed upon my friend.

XXXVII .

It is both a misery and a shame for a man to be a bankrupt in love: which he may easily pay, and be never the more impoverished. I will be in no man's debt, for good will: but will at least return every man his own measure, if not with usury.

XXXVIII .

The wicked man is a very coward, and is afraid of every thing. Of God; because he is his enemy: of Satan, because he is his tormentor: of God's creatures, because they (joining with their Maker) fight against him: of himself, because he bears about him his own accuser and executioner. The godly man contrarily, is afraid of nothing. Not of God, because he knows Him his best friend, and therefore will not hurt him: not of Satan, because he cannot hurt him: not of afflictions, because he knows they proceed from a loving God, and tend to his own good: not of the creatures, since the very stones of the field are in league with him: not of himself, since his conscience is at peace. A wicked man may be secure, because he knows not what he has to fear; or desperate, through extremity of fear: but, truly courageous he cannot be. Faithlessness cannot choose but be false-hearted. I will ever, by my courage, make trial of my faith. By how much more I fear, by so much less I believe.

XXXIX .

A believer has three eyes: the first of sense, common to him with brute creatures: the second of reason, common to all men: the third of faith, proper to his profession: whereof each looks beyond other; and none of them meddles with others' objects. For, neither does the eye of sense reach to intelligible things and matters of discourse: nor the eye of reason to those things which are supernatural and spiritual: neither does faith look down, to things that may be sensibly seen. If thou discourse to a brute beast of the depths of philosophy, never so plainly, he understands not, because they are beyond the view of his eye, which is only of sense. If to a mere carnal man, of divine things; he perceives not the things of God: neither indeed can do, because they are spiritually discerned. And therefore no wonder if those things seem unlikely, incredible, impossible to him, which the spiritual man does as plainly see, as his eye does any sensible thing. Tell a plain country-man, that the sun, or some star is much bigger than his cart-wheel; or, at least, so many scores bigger than the whole earth; he laughs thee to scorn. Yet the scholar, by the eye of reason, does as plainly see this truth as that his hand is bigger than his pen. What a thick mist, yea, what a palpable, and more than Egyptian darkness, does the natural man live in! What a world is there that he does not see at all! And how little does he see in this, which is his proper element! There is no bodily thing, but the brute creatures see as well as he; and some of them better. As for his eye of reason, how dim is it in those things which are best fitted to it! What one thing is there in nature, which he does perfectly know? What herb, or flower, or worm that he treads on, is there, whose true essence he knows? No, not so much as what is in his own bosom; what it is, where it is, or whence it is that gives being to himself. But, for those things which concern the best world, he does not so much as confusedly see them; neither knows whether they be. He sees no whit into the great and awful majesty of God. He discerns Him not in all his creatures, filling the world with his infinite and glorious presence. He sees not his wise providence, over-ruling all things, disposing all casual events, ordering all sinful actions of men to his own glory. He comprehends nothing of the beauty, majesty, power, and mercy of the Saviour of the world, sitting in his humanity at his Father's right-hand. He sees not the unspeakable happiness of the glorified souls of the saints. He sees not the whole heavenly common-wealth of angels (ascending and descending to God's children) waiting upon Him at all times invisibly (not excluded with closeness of prisons, nor desolateness of wildernesses) and the multitude of evil spirits passing and standing by him, to tempt him to evil: but, like the foolish bird when he has hid his head that he sees no body, he thinks himself unseen; and then counts himself solitary, when his eye can meet with no companion. It was not without cause, that we call a mere fool a natural. For however worldlings have still thought Christians God's fools, we know them the fools of the world. The deepest philosopher that ever was, is but an ignorant sot, to the simplest Christian. For the weakest Christian may, by plain information, see somewhat into the greatest mysteries of nature, because he has the eye of reason common with the best: but the best philosopher, by all the demonstration in the world, can conceive nothing of the mysteries of godliness, because he utterly wants the eye of faith. Though my insight into matters of the world be so shallow, that my simplicity moves pity unto others; it shall be my happiness, that I see further into better matters. That which I see not, is worthless, and deserves little better than contempt: that which I see, is unspeakable, inestimable, for comfort, for glory.

XL .

CHRIST raised three dead men to life: one, newly departed; another, on the bier; a third, smelling in the grave: to show us that no degree of death is so desperate, that it is past help. My sins are many, and great: yet if they were more, they are far below the mercy of Him that has remitted them, and the value of his ransom that has paid for them. A man hurts himself most by presumption: but we cannot do God a greater wrong, than to despair of forgiveness. It is a double injury to God, first, that we offend his justice by sinning; then, that we wrong his mercy, by despairing.

XLI .

It was not for nothing that the wise Creator of all things placed gold and silver under our feet, and has hid them low in the bowels of the earth, that they cannot without great labour be either found, or gotten: whereas He has placed the noblest part of his creation above our heads, and open to our view: wherein, what did he else intend, but to draw away our minds from those worthless, and yet hidden treasures, and to call them to the contemplation of those better things, which (beside their beauty) are more obvious to us, that in them we may see and admire the glory of their Maker, and withall seek our own? How do these men wrong themselves, and misconstrue God, who bend themselves wholly to the seeking of those earthly commodities, and no more mind heaven, than if there were none? If we could imagine a beast to have reason, how could he be more absurd? How easy is it to observe, that still the higher we go, the more purity and perfection we find! So earth is the very dross of all the elements: water somewhat more pure than it; yet more feculent than the air above it: the lower air less pure than the upper regions; and yet, these, far inferior to the lowest heavens: which again are more exceeded by the glorious seat of God, the heaven of the just! Yet these brutish men take up their rest in the lowest and worst of all God's workmanship; not regarding that, which, with its own glory, can make them happy. Heaven is the proper place of my soul: I will send it up thither continually in my thoughts, whilst it sojourns with me, before it go to dwell there for ever.

XLII .

A man need not care for more knowledge, than to know himself: he needs no more pleasure, than to content himself: no more victory, than to overcome himself: no more riches, than to enjoy himself; so it be all in God. What fools are they that seek to know all other things, and are strangers to themselves? That seek altogether to satisfy other men's humours, with their own displeasure: that seek to vanquish kingdoms, when they are not masters of themselves; that have no hold of their own hearts, yet seek to be possessed of all outward commodities. Go home to thyself, first, vain heart: and when thou hast made sure work there, in knowing, contenting, overcoming, enjoying thyself, spend all the superfluity of thy time and labour, upon others.

XLIII .

The way to heaven, is like that which Jonathan and his armour-bearer passed, betwixt two rocks; one Bozez, the other Seneh; that is, foul and thorny: whereto we must make shift to climb on our hands and knees; but when we are come up, there is victory and triumph. God's children have three suits of apparel, whereof two are worn daily, on earth; the third laid up for them in the ward-robe of heaven. They are ever either in black, mourning; in red, persecuted; or in white, glorious. Any way shall be pleasant to me, that leads unto such an end. It matters not, what rags, or what colours I wear with men; so I may walk with my Saviour in white, and reign with Him in glory.

XLIV .

There is nothing more easy, than to say divinity by rote; and to discourse of spiritual matters from the tongue or pen of others: but to hear God speak it to the soul, and to feel the power of religion in ourselves, and to express it out of truth and experience within, is both rare, and hard. It will never be well with me, till sound experience has really catechised my heart, and made me know God and my Saviour, otherwise than by words; I will never be quiet till I can see, and feel, and taste God: my hearing I will account as only serving to effect this, and my speech only to express it.

XLV .

There is no enemy can hurt us, but by our own hands. Satan could not hurt us, if our own corruption betrayed us not: afflictions cannot hurt us without our own impatience: temptations cannot hurt us without our own yielding: death could not hurt us, without the sting of our own sins: sin could not hurt us, without our own impenitence. How might I defy all things, if I could obtain not to be my own enemy? I love myself too much, and yet not enough. O God teach me to wish myself but so well as Thou wishest me, and I am safe!

XLVI .

Joy and sorrow are hard to conceal; as from the countenance, so from the tongue: every man therefore speaks of his own pleasure and care: the hunter of his games; the plough-man of his team; the soldier of his march, and colours. If the heart were as full of God, the tongue could not refrain to talk of Him. The rareness of Christian communication, argues the common poverty of grace. If CHRIST be not in our hearts, we are godless: if He be there without our joy, we are senseless: if we rejoice in Him, and speak not of Him, we are shamefully unthankful. Every man takes, yea raises occasion to bring in speech of what he likes. As I will think of Thee always, O LORD, so it shall be my joy to speak of Thee: and if I find not opportunity, I will make it.

XLVII .

Satan would seem to be mannerly and reasonable; making as if he would be content with one half of the heart, whereas God challenges all or none. He that made all, claims all: and Satan knows, that if he have any part, God will have none: so, the whole falls to his share alone. My heart, when it is whole and at the best, is but a strait and unworthy lodging for God: if it were bigger and better, I would reserve it all for Him. Satan may look in at my doors by a temptation: but he shall not have so much as one chamber-room set apart for him to sojourn in.

XLVIII .

What strange variety of actions does the eye of God see at once, round about the compass of the earth, and within it! Some building houses; some delving for metals; some marching in troops, or encamping one against another; some bargaining in the market; some travelling on their way; some praying in their closets; others quaffing at the tavern; some rowing in the gallies; others dallying in their chambers; and in short, as many different actions as persons; yet all have one common intention of good to themselves; true in some; but in most, imaginary. The glorified spirits have but one uniform work, wherein they all join; the praise of their Creator. This is one difference betwixt the saints above, and below: they above are both free from business and distraction: these below are free, though not absolutely, from distraction, not all from business. Paul could think of the cloak that he left at Troas; and of the shaping of his skins for the tents: yet through these he looked still at heaven. This world was made for business: my actions must vary according to my occasions: my end shall be but one, and the same now on earth, that it must be one day in heaven.

XLIX .

It is the wonderful mercy of God, both to forgive us our debts to Him in our sins, and to make Himself a debtor to us in his promises. So that both ways the faithful soul may be sure; since He neither calls for those debts, which He has once forgiven; nor withdraws those favours, and that heaven which he has promised: but as He is a merciful creditor to forgive, so He is a true debtor to pay whatsoever he has undertaken: whence it is come to pass, that the penitent sinner owes nothing to God but love and obedience, and God owes still much and all to him: for He owes as much as He has promised; and what He owes by virtue of this blessed promise, we may challenge. O infinite mercy! He that lent us all we have, and in whose debt-books we run hourly forward till the sum be endless; yet owes us more, and bids us look for payment. I cannot deserve the least favour He can give; yet will I as confidently challenge the greatest, as if I deserved it. Promise indebts no less than desert.

L .

The eldest of our fore-fathers lived not so much as a day to God, to whom a thousand years is as no more; we live but as an hour to the day of our fore-fathers: for if nine hundred and sixty years were but their day, our fourscore is but the twelfth part of it: and yet of this our hour we live scarce a minute to God. For take away all that time that is consumed in sleeping, dressing, feeding, talking, sporting; of that little time there can remain not much more than nothing: yet the most seek pastimes to hasten it. Those which seek to mend the pace of time, spur a running horse. I had more need to redeem it with double care and labour, than to seek how to sell it for nothing.

LI .

Each day is a new life, and an abridgement of the whole. I will so live, as if I counted every day my first, and my last: as if I began to live but then, and then should live no more afterwards.

LII .

Our infancy is full of folly; youth, of disorder and toil; age, of infirmity. Each time has his burden: yet infancy longs after youth; and youth after more age: and he that is very old, as he is a child for simplicity, so he would be for years. I account old age the best of the three; partly, for that it has passed through the folly and disorder of the others; partly, for that the inconveniences of this are but bodily, with a better state of the mind; and partly, for that it is nearest to dissolution. There is nothing more miserable, than an old man that would be young again. It was an answer, worthy of Petrarch, who when his friend bemoaned his age, telling him he was sorry to see him look so old, replied: Nay, be sorry rather that ever I was young.

LIII .

I am a stranger here below, my home is above; yet I think too well of these vanities, and cannot think enough of my home. O God, what happiness hast Thou prepared for thy chosen? What a purchase was this, worthy of the blood of such a Saviour? As yet I do but look towards it afar off: but it is easy to see by the outside, how goodly it is within: although as thine house on earth, so that above has more glory within, than can be bewrayed by the outward appearance. The outer part of thy tabernacle here below, is but an earthly and base substance; but within, it is furnished with a living, spiritual, and heavenly guest: so the outer heavens, though they be as gold to all other material creatures; yet they are but dross to Thee: yet how are even the out-most walls of that house of thine, beautified with glorious lights, whereof every one is a world for bigness, and as an heaven for goodliness! Oh, teach me by this to long after, and wonder at the inner part, before Thou lettest me come in to behold it.

LIV .

Men, for the most part, would neither die nor be old. When we see an aged man that has over-lived all the teeth of his gums, the hair of his head, the sight of his eyes, the taste of his palate; we profess, we would not live till we prove burdens to our dearest friends, and ourselves: yet if it be put to our choice what year we would die, we ever shift it off till the next. Nature has nothing to plead for this folly, but that life is sweet: wherein we give occasion of renewing that ancient check, whereby that primitive vision taxed the timorousness of the shrinking confessors; Ye would neither live to be old, nor die ere your age: what should I do with you? The Christian must not think it enough to endure the thought of death with patience, but must voluntarily call it into his mind with joy; not only abiding it should come, but wishing that it might come. I will not leave till I can resolve, if I might die to-day, not to live till to-morrow.

LV .

There was never age that more bragged of knowledge, and yet never any that had less soundness. He that knows not God, knows nothing; and he that loves not God, knows Him not: for He is so sweet, and infinitely full of delight, that whoever knows Him, cannot choose but affect Him. The little love of God then argues the great ignorance even of those who profess knowledge. I will not suffer my affections to run before my knowledge: for then I shall love fashionably only, because I hear God is worthy of love; and so be subject to relapses: but I will ever lay knowledge as the ground of my love. So, as I grow in divine knowledge, I shall profit in an heavenly zeal.

LVI .

Those that are all in exhortation, no whit in doctrine, are like to them that snuff the candle, but pour not in oil. Again, those that are all in doctrine, nothing in exhortation, drown the wick in oil, but light it not. Doctrine, without exhortation, makes men all brain, no heart. Exhortation, without doctrine, makes the heart full, leaves the brain empty. Both together, makes a man: one makes a man wise; the other, good. One serves that we may know our duty; the other, that we may perform it. I will labour in both: but I know not in whether more. Men cannot practise, unless they know; and they know in vain, if they practise not.

LVII .

There be two things in every good work; honour and profit. The latter, God bestows upon us; the former, He keeps to Himself. The profit of our works, redounds not to God. My well-doing extends not to thee. The honour of our work may not be allowed us. My glory I will not give to another. I will not abridge God of his part, that He may not bereave me of mine.

LVIII .

The idle man is the devil's cushion, on which he takes his free ease: who, as he is uncapable of any good, so he is fitly disposed for all evil. If I do but little good to others by my endeavours, yet this is great good to me, that by my labour I keep myself from hurt.

LIX .

If a man refer all things to himself, nothing seems enough: if all things to God, any measure will content him of earthly things; but in grace, he is insatiable. I will not suffer mine eyes and mind to be bound with these visible things; but still look through these, at God, who is the utmost scope of them: accounting them only as a thorough-fare to pass by, not as an habitation to rest in.

LX .

There is nothing beside life, that is diminished by addition. Every moment we live longer, is so much taken out of our life. It increases and diminishes only by minutes, and therefore is not perceived: the shorter steps it takes, the more slily it passes. Time shall not so steal upon me, that I shall not discern it, and catch it by the fore-lock; nor so steal from me, that it shall carry with it no witness of his passage in my proficiency.

LXI .

It was a just doubt of Phocion, who when the people praised him, asked, What evil have I done? I will strive to deserve evil of none: but not deserving ill, it shall not grieve me to hear ill of those that are evil. I know no greater argument of goodness, than the hatred of a wicked man.

LXII .

A man that comes hungry to his meal, feeds heartily on the meat set before him, not regarding the platter wherein it is served; who afterwards begins to play with the dish, or to read sentences on his trencher. Those auditors which can find nothing to do, but note elegant words, or perhaps an ill gesture in a pithy speech, argue themselves full, ere they came to the feast: and therefore go away with a little pleasure, no profit. In hearing others, my only intention shall be, to feed my mind with solid matter: if my ear can get ought by the way, I will not grudge it; but I will not intend it.

LXIII .

A Christian, for the sweet fruit he bears to God and men, is compared to the noblest of all plants, the vine. Now, as the most generous vine, if it be not pruned, runs out into many superfluous stems, and grows at last weak and fruitless: so does the best man, if he be not cut short of his desires, and pruned with afflictions. If it be painful to bleed, it is worse to wither. Let me be pruned, that I may grow, rather than be cut up to burn.

LXIV .

I observe three seasons, wherein a wise man differs not from a fool; in his infancy, in sleep, and in silence: for in the two former we are all fools; and in silence all are wise. In the two former, there may be concealment of folly; but the tongue is a blab: there cannot be any kind of folly, either simple, or wicked, in the heart, but the tongue will bewray it. He cannot be wise that speaks without sense, or out of season, nor he known for a fool that says nothing. It is a great misery to be a fool: but this is yet greater, that a man cannot be a fool, but he must show it. Surely, he is not a fool that has unwise thoughts, but he that utters them.

LXV .

I can do nothing without a million of witnesses: the conscience is as a thousand witnesses; and God is as a thousand consciences: I will therefore so deal with men, as knowing that God sees me; and so with God, as if the world saw me: so with myself and both of them, as knowing that my conscience sees me; and so with them all, as knowing I am always over-looked by my accuser, by my judge.

LXVI .

Even the best things ill used, become evils; and the worst things used well, prove good. A good tongue, used to deceit; a good wit, used to defend error; a strong arm, to murther; authority, to oppress; are all evil: yea, God's own word is the sword of the Spirit; which if it kill not our vices, kills our souls. Contrariwise, (as poisons are used to wholesome medicine) afflictions and sins, by a good use, prove so gainful, as nothing more. Words are as they are taken, and things are as they are used. There are even cursed blessings: O LORD, rather give me no favours, than not grace to use them. If I want them, Thou requirest not what Thou dost not give: but if I have them, and want their use, thy mercy proves my judgment.

LXVII .

Man is the best of all these inferior creatures; yet lives in more sorrow and discontent, than the worst of them: while that reason wherein he excells them, and by which he might make advantage of his life, he abuses to a suspicious distrust. How many hast thou found of the fowls of the air, lying dead in the way for want of provisions? They eat, and rest, and sing, and want nothing. Man, which has far better means to live comfortably, toils, and cares, and wants; whom yet his reason alone might teach, that He that cares for these lower creatures, will much more provide for man. There is an holy carelessness; free from idleness; free from distrust. In these earthly things, I will so depend on my Maker, that my trust in Him may not exclude all my labour; and yet so labour, upon my confidence on Him, as my endeavour may be void of perplexity.

LXVIII .

I have seen some afflict their bodies with wilful famine, and scourges of their own making. God spares me that labour; for He whips me daily with the scourge of a weak body; and sometimes with ill tongues. He holds me short many times of the feeling of his comfortable presence, which is, in truth, so much more miserable an hunger than that of the body, by how much the soul is more tender, and the food denied, more excellent. He is my Father, infinitely wise, to proportion my correction to my estate; and infinitely loving, in fitting me with a due measure. Let me learn to make a right use of his corrections, and I shall not need to correct myself. And if it should please God to remit his hand a little, I will govern my body, as a master, not as a tyrant.

LXIX .

If God had not said, Blessed are those that hunger, I know not what could keep weak Christians from despair. Many times, all I can do, is to find and complain that I want Him, and wish to recover Him. Now this is my stay, that He in mercy esteems us not only by having, but by desiring also; and, after a sort, accounts us to have that which we want, and desire to have. Let me desire still more; and I know I shall not desire always. There was never soul miscarried with longing after grace. O blessed hunger, that ends always in fulness! I am sorry that I can but hunger; and yet I would not be full; for the blessing is promised to the hungry. Give me more, LORD, but so as I may hunger more. Let me hunger more, and I know I shall be satisfied.

LXX .

Hell itself is scarce a more obscure dungeon, in comparison of the earth, than earth is in respect of heaven. Here, the most see nothing, and the best see little: here half our life is night; and our very day is darkness, in respect of God. The true Light of the world and the Father of lights dwells above: there is the light of knowledge to inform us, and the light of joy to comfort us; without all change of darkness. There was never any captive loved his dungeon, and complained when he must be brought out to light and liberty: whence then is this unnatural madness in men, that we delight so much in this unclean, dark prison of earth; and think not of our release to that glorious paradise, without grief and repining? It is hence we are sure we are not perfectly well here: if we could be as sure we should be better above, we would not fear changing. Our sense tells us, we have some pleasure here; and we have not faith to assure us of more pleasure above: and hence we settle ourselves to the present, with neglect of the future, though infinitely more excellent. The heart follows the eyes: and unknown good is uncared for. O LORD, do Thou break through this darkness of ignorance and faithlessness, wherewith I am compassed! Let me but see my heaven, and I know I shall desire it!

LXXI .

To be carried away with an affectation of fame, is so absurd, that I wonder it can be incident to any man. For what a mole-hill of earth is it, to which his name can extend, when it is furthest carried by the wings of report? And how short a while does it continue where it is once spread? Time, the devourer of his own brood, consumes both us and our memories; not brass, nor marble can bear age. How many flattering poets have promised immortality of name to their princes, who together are buried long since in forgetfulness! Those names and actions, that are once on the file of heaven, are past the danger of defacing. I will not care whether I be remembred, or forgotten among men, if my name and good actions live with God in the records of eternity.

LXXII .

There is no man, nor place free from spirits, although they testify their presence by visible effects but in few. Every man entertains angels, though not in visible shapes, as Abraham and Lot. The evil ones do nothing but provoke us to sin, and plot mischiefs against us, by casting in our way dangerous objects, and by suggesting sinful motions, stirring up enemies against us, amongst men, frighting us in ourselves, accusing us to God. On the contrary, the good angels are ever removing our hindrances from good, and our occasions of evil, mitigating our temptations; helping us against our enemies; delivering us from dangers; comforting us in sorrows; furthering our good purposes; and at last carrying our souls to heaven. It would affright a weak Christian that knows the power and malice of wicked spirits, to consider their presence, and number; but when with the eyes of Elisha's servants, he sees those on his side as present, as diligent, more powerful; he cannot but take heart again: especially if he consider, that neither of them is without God, limiting the one the bounds of their temptation; directing the other in the safeguard of his children. Whereupon, though there be many legions of devils, and every one of them more strong than many legions of men, and more malicious than strong, yet the little flock of God's Church lives and prospers. I have ever with me invisible friends and enemies. The consideration of mine enemies shall keep me from security, and make me fearful of doing ought to advantage them. The consideration of my spiritual friends shall comfort me against the terror of the other; shall remedy my solitariness; shall make me weary of doing ought undecently, grieving rather, that I have ever heretofore made them turn away their eyes, for shame of that, whereof I have not been ashamed; that I have no more enjoyed their society; that I have been no more affected with their presence. What though I see them not? I believe them. I were no Christian, if my faith were not as sure as my sense.

LXXIII .

Earth, which is the basest element, is both our mother that brought us forth, our stage that bears us alive, and our grave wherein at last we are entombed; giving to us both our original, our harbour, our sepulchre: she has yielded her back to bear thousands of generations; and at last has opened her mouth to receive them; so swallowing them up, that she still both bears more and looks for more; not bewraying any change in herself, whilst she so oft has changed her brood, and her burden. It is a wonder we can be proud of our parentage, or of ourselves, while we see the baseness of the earth, whence we originally came. What difference is there? Living earth treads upon dead earth, and afterwards descends into the grave, as senseless and dead, as the earth that receives it. Not many are proud of their souls; and none but fools can be proud of their bodies. While we walk and look upon the earth, we cannot but acknowledge sensible admonitions of humility; and while we remember them, we cannot forget ourselves. It is a mother-like favour of the earth, that she bears and nourishes me, and at the last entertains my dead carcase: but it is a greater pleasure, that she teaches me my vileness by her own, and sends me to heaven, for what she wants.