THis Text, as it relates to The Cohe­rence of the Text. the History whereof it is parcel, contains the reception given by the Christians at Caesa­rea to that peremptory denial which they received from St. Paul to their importunate disswasion of him from going to Jerusalem: where one Agabus a Prophet (the same in [Page 2] likelihood, whose true Prediction of a Famine in the daies of Clau­dius Caesar is mentioned, Acts 11. 28.) had foretold, that he should run an hazard of his Liberty (at least) if not of his Life also, conse­quently; seeing so eminent a Pro­pagator and Propugner of Christia­nity as he, being once in his Ene­mies hands, could not probably ex­pect less from them, than utmost ex­tremities. This denial you have re­corded, v. 13. He answered, what mean ye to weep and break my heart? for I am ready not only to be bound, but to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus. His Answer speaks him Man, and Christian: As a Man, he shews himself moved with their Affections; but as a Chri­stian he declares himself not to be removed from his Resolutions; He hath an heart so much flesh, as to be affected tenderly with their kindness, but so much flint, or steel rather, as to receive no impression from their Counsel. For, the first words of my Text tell you, that he would not be perswaded. And herefore seeing he would not, the [Page 3] Brethren (as passionate as they were in their importunities) had grace enough to conquer nature, and perswade themselves to cease their suit: as apprehending an in­timation of Gods will to the con­trary of what they so earnestly de­sired, from the impregnableness of that heart, which they saw held out with so noble a resolution against the batteries of so many united prayers and tears. They are loath to contest any farther, where they see God and Grace of a Party against them; and therefore they raise the siege, cease their sollicitations, and unanimously say, The will of the Lord be done.

A short Text, beloved, but that A brief De­scant on the Text. which contains a long Lesson, to be studied and practised the longest day of your lives: an easie Text, but comprehending an hard Task, one of the hardest in all the com­pass of Christianity, viz. the most high and heroical duty of a full, absolute and perpetual resignation of our selves, and all our concernments to the soveraign pleasure of Almighty God.

Indeed, every word in the Text iscite habere n corde quod nis homo habet in lin­ [...]. Quod vult us hoc agat. Ipsa lingua popularis est le [...]um (que) sed doctrina salu­tatis. In Ps. 32. is practically hard, but one, and that is [saying] which is so easie that St. Austin told his people long since, that these Forms, The Will of the Lord be done, and let the Lord do his pleasure, &c. are lingua po­pularis, common discourse; where­fore he adviseth them to learn to get this lesson by heart, which eve­ry one was able to say by rote, and then they should find, Doctrina sa­lutaris, an wholsom and saving Doctrine contained in it.

1. And first, [...], is an hard word to be cordially pronounced by sin­ful flesh and blood. Man in his lapsed estate is loath to own any Lord over him, Psal. 12. 4. what they conceit they are, Jer. 2. 31. every one would fain be; [...], a Lord to himself, independent e­ven upon God himself, so as to need to come no more at him, as there the Phrase is. And that this Lesson is of no mean difficulty, appears, in that God near eighty times in the Scripture, tells men he will be at extraordinary pains to learn it them, (sometimes by mercies, and [Page 5] otherwhiles by Judgments) in this common Phrase, Yee shall know that I am the Lord.

2. [...], the Will of this Lord, is yet an harder word to be practi­cally conned. Generally, men are enemies to Arbitrary Power, and Government by will, even in God himself. Let him rule by known Laws, and Presidents only, (provi­ded that withal he be responsible to the High Court of humane Reason for what he doth, and admit eve­ry mans particular Reason to be of the Quorum, and sit as Judge in the Court) upon these conditions, it may be, he may be received as a Titular Lord among the Sons of Men. But so to own him as a Lord, as to leave him free to do what he pleaseth in Heaven and Earth, and in all deep places, (even in Hell it self) Psal. 135. 6. to have all the world at his sole beck, without suffering any one to reply against him, Rom. 9. 20. to have as abso­lute an unaccountable power over all things as the Potter hath over the clay, v. 21. this is an had say­ing, (as they say in another case [Page 6] John. 6. 60.) and who can endure to hear it?

3. [...], Let this absolute will be done, is not one jot easier for mans heart to utter. [...], may possibly go down with us. Gods will, when it is done, and no man can help it, necessity will enfore men to swallow, after a Fashion: because it is in vain to attempt to re-call yesterday, to render factum, infectum; what is done, not to have been done. But Friends, this will not serve, there is more in this word than so. This [...], imports our free and voluntary Vote, both of consent when it is to be done, and of approbation and applause when it is done. Now surely, this is hard. To give God our Fiat before­hand, to the doing of that will of his, which it may be tends to the undoing of our selves: and to subscribe to it when done, as done to our mindes; yea, so done, as it could not be better done; and this not [...], out of constraint, but [...], willingly; not as a man be­stowes his Goods upon the Waves in a Storm, [...], with [Page 7] an unwilling will, but as a man parts with his money for a good purchase; to acquiesce, as satisfied in it: not with a canina patientia, (as Tertullian, and Bernard call it) a Doggs patience, a patience per­force, but with a patientia Christi­ana, a true Christian patience, grounded upon choice; in this sence, [...], (though Englished is Greek still to most men, and non potest legi, an hard chapter, and few can read it.

4. Lastly, [...], We cea­sed, comes behind none of the rest for difficulty. To calme all our passions, and the expressions of them in whatever kind; and be still, (as God bids the tumultuous World, Ps. 46. 10. and Christ the tempestuous Sea, Mark 4. 39;) to take up our Cross cheerfully and make no words of it, how un-easie soever it sit; not to deprecate the least circumstance of that Provi­dence which grates most close up­on our dearest Interests and Con­cernments; and in Thought, Speech, and Behaviour, to shew that our spirits enjoy a perfect calme, not so [Page 8] much as the least wrinkle of a wave remaining upon them; where is the man that will be perswaded, that this Yoke is easie, and this Bur­then light? Mat. 11. 30.

And yet as hard a Lesson as this is, the Disciples in the Text had learned it; and, I hope, ere these Sands be spent, so will You too, at least, as to your judgments and Consciences, (for God alone can disciple Passions,) so that you shall be convinced, that these Brethren said well, and did better; and therein confess, that you are bound to say, and do so too, ecchoing from your hearts and lives to eve­ry providence of God, [...], The Will of the Lord be done.

The words offer themselves to The Parts of the Text. be handled in a double capacity.

• 1. In the Matter
• 2. In the Form of them.

First, The Matter of them is the carriage of these Christians of Cae­saria upon the occasion before­mentioned; which farther may be sub-divided into

• [Page 9]I. Dictum, what they said, to wit, The will of the Lord be done.
• II. Factum, What they did in conformity to this saying, they Ceased, that is, fotbore to sollicit their sute any fur­ther.

Secondly, the Form of them; and that consists in the Historical Relation of both (by the appoint­ment of Gods Spirit) from the Pen of St. Luke, who himself, (as ap­pears by the Relation it self running in the Plural, We ceased,) was pars magna, had a great share in all the passages of this part of St. Pauls Story.

These two parts we will handle The first Part handled. I. The Mat­ter of the Text. 1. Its first Branch the Dictum. distinctly; beginning with

I. The Matter, or substance of the Text: wherein, first comes to hand,

1. The Dictum, What these Bre­thren said, Fiat voluntas Domini. The Will of the Lord be done. And this learns us this Observation,

That, When Gods revealed will and ours so clash and enterfere, 1. Observa­tion. that both of them cannot be done, it is a necessary piece of Christian [Page 10] duty for us to vayle our wills to Gods.

Say not, this is false Logick, to infer a general Rule from a parti­cular Example. For that is not a particular example, which though particular persons only be con­cerned in, yet bears a conformity with a Principle universally owned by Christians, and recorded as congruous to that Principle by the appointment of the Holy Ghost, for the imitation of others. These Brethrens practise was produced by this Principle; and therefore warrantably may this Principle be concluded from their practise.

To the more clear handling of Explained. this Point, it will be needful (ac­cording to the intimation given you therein,) to distinguish of the will of God, under the diffe­rent considerations of secret and revealed. The secret will of God is a Rule, by which he alone acts: the revealed will of God is that that we are to manage our selves by: Secret things belong (only) to God; but those things that are revealed, belong to us and to our children. [Page 11] Deut. 29. 29. The secret will of God therefore, as, and whiles it continues locked up in the Cabinet of his own breast, to which he a­lone keeps the Key, (upon that ve­ry account, because we neither do, nor can know it,) obligeth not us farther, than as it stands in a capacity to be revealed; and in this capacity, it requires from us a general, implicite, hypothetical, and dispositive submission onely, (i. e. an holy disposition, inclina­tion, and purpose of heart to sub­mit to it) whenever it shall come to be signified, and revealed. But the will of God once actually re­vealed, requires a particular, ex­press, actual, and positive submissi­on of us. The secret will of God, whiles such, may be lawfully pray­ed against, and acted against: o­therwise, all Prayers must be sin­ful, which God thinks not fit to grant, and all courses of humane providence unlawful, which prove unsuccessful; an assertion so ab­surd, that no sober Christian will own it. Yea, more, the will of God, even when expressed and signified [Page 12] to us, (that, I mean, which con­cerns the inflicting any evil upon us or ours) if it be expressed only conditionally, or, (though it may be delivered in absolute terms, yet) may according to the Tenor of the Scripture be warrantably supposed to imply a Condition; we may both pray against, and by all other pious and prudent courses 2 Sam. 12. 22. Jon. 3. 8, 9. Is. 38. 1, 2. labour to prevent. Of which we have at least three known Instan­ces in the Scripture; in the several Cases of David, Hezekiah, and the King of Nineveh. And the reason hereof is, because in such Cases, the will of God revealed, being not peremptory and absolute, is fulfilled on the one hand even by its frustra­tion upon the performance of the Conditions, upon which it was sus­pended, as it would on the other, by taking place, according to the commination, in case the Conditi­ons supposed be not performed. So David, and the King of Nine­veh both argue; For who can tell whether God will be merciful? &c. And in this manner, it is probable, the Brethren in the Text understood [Page 13] the Prophecy of Agabus, labouring to prevent it, whiles they saw no cause to conclude it absolute, and irrevocable; and till they perceiv­ed by the evident hand of God up­on St. Pauls heart, that he him­self had in all likelihood defeat­ed their importunities, in order to the compleating of his own will.

It remains then, that the will of Lomb d. 45. Il. dis: 14. God, to which ours must submit, is his will revealed, according to the nature, and measure of that reve­lation.

The revealed will of God (accor­ding to the Schools) contains his precepts, his prohibitions (under Praecipit, & prohibet, per­mittit, consulit implet. which I suppose they include also his promises and threatnings annex­ed to them) his permissions, his counsels, and his performances. In reference to all which, our duty is thus to be distributed; We must do what he bids, forbear what he forbids, follow what he adviseth, bear with what he permitteth, and bear what he inflicteth, without the least opposition or reluctancy from our wills: or in case any such arise [Page 14] in our hearts through passion or temptation, our wills must then be denied, and not dandled; humbled, not honoured; mortified, not grati­fied.

St. Bernard expresseth this subjection Serm. de sub­jectione volun­tatis. of our Wills to the Will of God in three particulars, We must (saith he)

1. Velle omnino quod certum est Deum velle, absolutely and entire­ly will what we certainly know God wills; not opposing our nay to his yea.

2. Nolle omnino, & execrariquod certum est Deum nolle, absolutely nill and execrate what God nills and dislikes; not opposing our yea to his nay.

3. Neque velle ex toto, neque pe­nitus non velle quod incertum est u­trum Deus velit aut nolit: to be indifferent, or (at least) very mo­derate, not peremptory and eager in those things concerning which the Will of God is dubious and un­certain; but to suspend our yea and nay till God have expressed his.

And then are we, in any of these [Page 15] out of order, as St. Austin saies, Ad suam vo­luntatem fle­ctere Deum, non suam cor­rigere ad De­um In Ps. 32. when we rather labour to bend Gods will to ours, than amend ours by his.

I intend not here to treat of sub­jection to the Will of God in its la­titude, but to confine my self to that, in God's revealed Will, which both the Text and this sad occasion leads me unto, the providential part of it relating to such Issues and E­vents wherein we are concerned, whether in our persons and inte­rests; and therefore are endanger­ed to temptations of reluctancy from our particular dis-satisfacti­ons and displeasures. It is this will of providence that the Brethren in the Text strike sail to in this Chri­stian expression, The will of the Lord be done, q. d. If God will have it so, that no entreaties shall prevail to keep so dear an Apostle and eminent instrument of God's glory and the Churches good from honds and imprisonment, then so be it. Let Paul be bound, and our wills too bound up from obstructing it; that God may have the liberty of his will: let our prayers and tears [Page 16] be frustrated, rather than his plea­sure and determination be defeated. The Lord it seems will have it so, and we will have it as he will. And in the same frame do we find good old Eli, when God sent him that thundring threatning by Samuel, It is the Lord, saith he, let him do what seemeth him good, 1 Sam. 3. 18. And David when he fled from Je­rusalem to avoid that dangerous Rebellion raised by his Son Absa­lom, whiles he yet knew not the Lords pleasure concerning the e­vent, is in utrumque paratus: If the Lord will permit me to find fa­vour in his eies, he will bring me back again; but if he say thus, I have no delight in thee, here am I, let him do as seemeth good to him, 2 Sam. 15. 25, 26. And thus our Saviour in the Garden, wherein (according to St. Austins notion) voluntatem suam figuravit & nostram, he ex­hibited Ibidem. as it were in a Table toge­ther his will and ours, the will of Nature and the will of Grace, after he had expressed an human sinless infirmity in startling at so grievous a suffering, makes a gracious sur­render [Page 17] of his Will to his Fathers, saying, not my will, but thine be done.

Thus, you see, do the Saints of God use to submit to the revealed will of Providence, antecedenter, even before it is done, by consent­ing that it be done; yea, as in the instance of David but now menti­oned, before he hath so much as re­ vealed what he will do; so prepa­ring Is. 40. 3, 4. the way of the Lord by compla­nation of every mountain that may retard him.

And a like submission do they yield to the same will of provi­dence, consequenter, after it is done, by way of approbation; as being highly satisfied in this, that he hath done whatsoever he pleased. Thus holy Job falls to the ground, and a­dores that providence, which had reduced him from the Throne to the Dunghil, Job 1. 20. Non petimus ut Deus faciat quod vult, sed ut nos facere possimus, quod Deus vult. Serm. de O­rat. Dom.

And in both these, their practise suits their prayers, who are taught to pray in definitely, Thy will be done Mat. 6. 10. In which Petition, though Cyprian be of the mind, that we only beg grace to yield a­ctive [Page 18] obedience to God's will enjoin­ed, yet even that includes grace also to give passive obedience to his will inflicted; patience being no less a duty in this, than performance in that. [...], (as once Epicte­tus said) contain the summe of Mo­ral Philosophy, to bear what God laies on us, & to forbear what he for­bids us to do And there is a great deal of Christianity in them too: For, the first Commandment re­quiring us to own him for our God, Verbis reliquit Deos, re sustu­lit. De Nat. Deor. we must not, as Tully saies of Epi­curus, give him a Name without a thing: or, (in the language of a better Author, Tit. 1. 16) Profess we know, and honour him, and yet in works deny him, which we shall certainly do, if we substract from him the one half, and that the chiefest of that homage which we owe him, our submission to his just and necessary severities.

And now that what hath been Argued. said, may not seem an unequal yoke, or unreasonable Task to you, I shall endeavour to satisfie your Judgments concerning it by these Reasons.

1. On Gods part, and here Rea­son tells us,

1. That God will have his will on us, as well as of us, whether we will or no. For who hath resisted his will? Rom. 9. 19. and who ever hardened himself against God, and prospered? Job 9. 4. The very Hea­thens had this notion of Fate (which some (with great likelyhood of truth) think, signifyed no more to the nicest of them that maintained it, however their opinion were ex­posed by their Adversaries, than the power of an omnipotent will in its unavoidable and irresistable ef­fects) that it alwaies dragged those against their wills, who would not be led with their wills to submit unto it;

Ducunt volentem Fata, nolentem trahunt. Seneca Trag. [...] Epict. c. 77. Edit. Roterd. Better read by Lipsius in his Notes on Seneca Ep. 107. [...] Lact. de vero cultu. Whence Cleanthes, (for to him Sim­plicius assigns that saying deliver­ed in Iambick verse at the end of Epictetus) took up that noble [Page 20] Resolution of following, where­ever his God and his Fate led him; as thinking it more eligible to obey with his good wil, than to be hurri­ed against it. It is true, the irresista­bleness of such events as God assigns us, is a reason for submission much below a Christian; for (as Lact an­tius saies) nulla laus est non face­re quod non possis) it is no com­mendation to a man not to do, what if he would he cannot, and so to submit to that providence which he cannot resist: yet, be­cause even Christians sometimes act below Christianity and humani­ty too, I thought it not amiss to suggest this low consideration here, as that, which, if it will not pur­chase them the praise of doing well, yet may serve to keep them from the guilt of doing ill, kicking a­gainst the pricks of providence, and attempting a bootless and hurtful resistance against an irresistable will. But,

Secondly, that that carries a more generous veyn of Reason in it, is,

2. That could we hinder God of his will, yet it is most just and [Page 21] equall that we should yield it him voluntarily, upon the account of his deep Wisdom, great Good­ness, spotless Justice, and absolute Soveraignty: considering, that he that is infinitely wise can commit no error; he that is infinitely good can do no evil; he that is in­ infinitely just can offer no wrong; and he that is an absolute Lord, and unlimited Soveraign, needs ask no leave in whatsoever he pleaseth to doe. Now, God is so wise, that the Scripture tells us he is only wise, and all creatures fooles to him, Rom. 16. 17. all his works are done in wisdome, infinite, in­comprehensible wisdome, Ps. 104. 24. so good, that it assures us there is none (as he is good, absolutely, originally, independently, and im­mutably) good but he, Mat. 19. 17. All the Earth is full of his goodness, Ps. 33. 5. There is no unrighteous­ness in him, John. 7. 18. He is righ­teous in all his wayes, Ps. 145. 17. And though all the World sift and scan his actions never so much, they will be able to finde nothing after him, to quarrel him justly for, [Page 22] Eccles. 7. 14. and therefore we shall but exalt our folly, and render it more conspicuous, Prov. 14. 29. and declare our sin, Is. 3. 9. and shew our taking pleasure in unrighteous­ness, 2 Thes. 2. 12. if we set up our foolish, evil, and unjust wills, in opposition against him.

Wilt thou quarrel him, because his wisdome is not concordant with humane maximes, his goodness is not measured by humane measures, and his justice not directed and governed by humane lawes? Con­sider then in the last place, that it is (as Tertullian sayes,) a most foo­lish Stultissimi, qui de humanis di­vina praejudi­cant. Adv. Marc. lib. 2. thing to prejudge Gods affaires by humane Rules. Because he is an absolute Soveraign over all the World; he doth what he pleaseth in the Army of Heaven, and among the Inbahitants of the Earth, and none can stay his hand, or say unto him, what dost thou? as the great­est Monarch, at that day in the World, confesseth, Dan. 4. 35. Now it is proper to an absolute Soveraign, to give Laws to all, and receive them from none: yea, to be as unaccountable as the Potter [Page 23] is to the clay, to all under his Domi­nion, Rom. 9. 21. and therefore not to be commanded to yield an answer to any ones cavills concern­ing the work of his hands, as both the Context, the Chaldee Para­phrast, the Arabick Version, and St. Jerome will have us understand that Text, which some modern Di­vines take for an high straine of Divine condescention to the force of Prayer, Is. 45. 11. It is hardly possible (saith St. Austin) but in Aliquid pro­prium velle difficile est ut tibi non con­tingat, sed sta­tim cogita, il­lum supra te, te infra illum, illum creato­rem, te creatu­ram, illum om­nipotentem, te infirmum, cor­rigens te & subjungens vo­luntati ejus, &c. Aug. in Ps. 32. ubi supra. something or other every man should incline to his own private will; but then he ought presently to think, that God is the Soveraign, he the subject; God the Creator, he the creature; God Omnipotent, he im­potent; and then he will see cause to correct himself, and say, yet not as I will, Lord, but as thou wilt.

To summe up this Paragraph then. If the will of man shall take upon it to prescribe to the will of God, either Man must pretend to more Reason, or more Right to go­vern the World than He. To pretend to more Reason, must im­ply a fondly blasphemous conceit, [Page 24] that he hath either skill to doe it more wisely, or goodness to doe it more obligingly, or justice to do it more equally than God: And, to plead more Right, implyes no less a blasphemous absurdity; For who hath more right to dispose of the Creature, than he that made it? Now, he made us, not we our selves, Ps. 100. 3. Of him, and from him, are all things, Rom. 11. 36. and therefore in reason (as followes) they should be to him. All the World was created for his plea­sure, Rev. 4. 11. and undoubted­ly (therefore) he hath right to dis­pose of it at his pleasure. The Fa­ther is the most proper Governour of the Childe he hath begotten, and the Workman Master of the Manufacture that he hath made. How absurd then is it for us, that are [...], Gods off-spring, Act. 17. 28. and [...], his Work­manship, Quorsum tan­dem prosiliet vestra arrogan­tia ut non si­natis me—in officina mea dominari? Calv. in Is. 45. Eph. 2. 10. not to suffer the Father of our beings to govern in his own Family, and the great Architect of all the World, to be Master in his own Shop? as a learned Commentator descants on [Page 25] that Text of Isaiah but now quo­ted.

2. And Secondly, on our part, it is infinitely for our advantage to be managed by the will of God, be­yong what it would be to be left to our own, and that in four parti­culars.

1. This onely can effectually quiet us, Ps. 119. 165. Great peace have they that love thy Law, and no­thing shall offend them, sayes the Psalmist. All our disturbances (as St. Bernard descants upon that Ʋnde scanda­la, unde turba­tio, nisi quod propriam se­quimur volun­tatem? &c. Bern. Serm. de sub. vol. Text) arises from this, that men will not be governed by Gods Law, but their own wills. Mans will, if left to its own dispose, will never be at rest. Its own desires (like Actaeons Dogs in the Fable) wil wor­ry, disquiet, and distract it continu­ally. And this (1,) partly from the dubiousness and hesitancy incident to it in its choice, whence, men that may have what they will, cannot tell many times what to choose, of all that variety which distracts their desires. The rational appe­tite is as much at a loss, de magno tol­lere Horace. acervo, to choose among many [Page 26] objects, as the bodily appetite is (in a dubia coena) to pitch upon what Dish it will feed on in a great Feast. (2.) And partly from the unconstancy and fickleness of it, which causeth it so frequently to alter its choice. The sick will of Mutationibus ut remediis uti. Sen. de Tranq. An. man (as the Moralist expresses it) doth, as the will of the sick man, think changes its cure. So prone are we alwayes to fly from our selves, (sayes old Lucretius) that is, Hoc se quisque modo semper fugit. dislike our present condition; though, had we never so much choice before us, we cannot tell how to mend it: So that it must needs be as much trouble to a man to fix such a Mercuriall faculty; as, the Nurse hath, that is to please that Child with Baubles, that dis­likes old, and likes new every quar­ter of an hour. (3.) And part­ly from its greediness, arising from its vastness, and (in a sort) infinite­ness of capacity: which nothing moderate will satisfie in any kind, while there is any thing beyond it desirable, or but appearing so to be: Crescit indul­gens sibi di­rus hydrops. Hor. Ode. Like an hydropicall thirst, that (as the Poet tells us) by its very satis­factions [Page 27] is rendered more insatia­ble; and (as the Moralist hath it) In­cipit semper a fine, find's the satis­faction of one desire the production of another. Whence the same Mo­ralist tells, that Attalus compared Senec. Ep. 73. & 72. the greediness of appetite in Man, to that of a Dog, that as soon as he hath greedily swallowed one bit that is flung to him, in spem futuri hiat, he is ready, and gapes for ano­ther.

So that in all these respects, it is most for our ease and quiet to be determined, and limited in our de­sires by a superior will, especially a will of so much wisdom, goodness, and Justice, as I have before told you, Gods is. And submission to this alone, can fix, settle, and sa­tisfie us.

2. This onely can truely better and improve us: I mean, contri­bute to us a true, inward, and gra­cious excellency of spirit; and heal the sinful distempers which naturally we groan under. Our vi­ciousness of nature and life, whence is it, but from our own wills? whence the Apostle describing our [Page 28] natural depravedness, Eph. 2. 2. as­cribes it, in a great measure, to our [...], the irregular appetites we are subject unto. When God gave the first Man his will, that liberty served him for no further use than to enslave himself, by debasing the [...], or governing faculty of his Soul to a sensual, brutish appetite: so that he whom God made upright, made himself crooked and deform­ed, by seeking out many inventi­ons, Eccles. 7. 29. Now, contra­ria, contrariis, say Physicians. Di­seases are cured by contraries. Wherefore, if our own wills have depraved us, the onely way to cure this depravedness, is to reduce them to subjection, and conformi­ty to the will of God. Gods will (saith the Apostle) is a good, and perfect will, Rom. 12. 3. and there­fore our perfection must be to stand compleat in all the will of God, Col. 4. 12. For (according to the Philosophers Rule, [...] Arist. Top. L 3. [...],) there being such an infinite goodness in Gods will; to be most like it, must be, to be best.

3. This only can save us from e­ternal ruine and destruction. A man never more speedily and surely damns himself, than when God gives him up to his own hearts lusts, Psal. 81. 12. when God threa­tens to let sinners alone, Hos. 4. 17. he threatens all evil to them com­pendiously. For, 1. How often, if left to our selves, do we wish and pursue those things most passionate­ly, which are most prejudicial to us? so that it is a sore suspicion, that any thing is nought for us when our own appetites greedily desire it. And if God would study a close, quick, and certain way of being revenged upon a man, he need but open his stores to him, and give him the liberty of choosing for himself.

Evertere domos totas, optantibus ipsis, Dii faciles. Juven. sat. 10. says an Heathen. An easie God stands his Creature in no other stead, than to undo him with his own consent. Were it not better then, for a man to be crossed in his will, by Gods, (as we do our chil­dren when they cry for knives or other hurtful things) than to be let [Page 30] alone to be ruined by his own?

2. How often do we deprecate, and fly from those things, which are (of all others) most beneficial to us? Like Infants that refuse whol­some food and Medicines, because they are not sweetned to their Pa­lat. And so do we destroy our selves by flying the wholsome austerities of Religion, meerly because asce­tical godliness, is too sower and ungrateful to flesh and blood? so also do we, by all means, shun af­fliction, Job. 36. 21. and choose sin rather than it, though to our utter ruine, bare­ly because, for the present, it is not [...], but [...], not a matter of joy but of grief, Heb. 12. 11. Gene­rally men go to Hell, because they will go to Heaven their own way, not Gods. Which made St. Bernard say, Cesset voluntas propria, & in­fernum De Res. Do­mini, Serm. 2. non erit: that there would be no Hell, were it not for mens own wills. Though no man hath a will to be damned, yet every mans own will damns him.

Is it not therefore a thousand times better for us to deny our own wills herein also, and submit [Page 31] to Gods; who by those things that do not please us, doth preserve us from utter ruine and destruction; and if he should do any other than displease us, must be enforced to destroy us by humouring us; as that Chirurgion doth, who is loath to search a dangerous wound to the bottom; or cut out of the quick flesh a cancerous substance, for fear of offending and disquieting his Pa­tient? When we need it, it is the greatest act of Divine indignation that he can shew towards us, to for­bear severity; so St. Austin. And on the other side, Blessed is he whom God correcteth, and teacheth him out of his Law, saith the Psal­mist, Cum parcit Deus, plus iras­cittur. In Ps. 65. For thereby he saves his chil­dren from the destruction that at­tends the wicked, as follows Psal. 94. 12, 13. upon which notion Tertullian, very elegantly, and de­voutly Decet gratu­lari & gau­dere Divinae dignatione castigation is. O beatum illum servum cujus emendationi Dominus in­stat, cui dig­natur irasci, &c. De pa­tient. descants in this manner. Happy is that Servant whom his Heavenly Master is at such pains to amend; whom he will condescend to be offended withal; whom by mildness he doth not beguile to his destruction. And therefore we ought [Page 32] to rejoice in, and congratulate the high vouchsafement of divine cor­rection.

4. This only can Crown us eter­nally in Heaven, For who (among men) rewards his Servant for do­ing Heb. 5. 9. Si pro arbitrio suo servi do­minis obtempe­rant, ne in iis quidem in qui­bus obtempe­rant, obse­quuntur. Gub. D. L. 3. his own pleasure? It is obedi­ence only, that God Crowns. Christ is the Author of Eternal life to them, (and them only) that obey him. Now (as Salvian saies) if a man do his Masters will, according to his own pleasure, though he do his commands, he doth not obey them. Besides, it is absurd to think that God should reward any other than he approves. Now he ap­proves not any one that doth not please him; else, in approving him, he would condemn himself. Will you know now who pleaseth God? St. Austin tells you, Ille placet Aug. ubi su­pra, in Ps. 32. Deo (saies he) cui placet Deus, that man pleaseth God, who is not displeased with him; as acquies­cing and resting satisfied and con­tented in his pleasure. After we have done the will of God (saith the Apostle to the Hebrews) we need to have patience to bear it too, before [Page 33] we receive the promises, Heb. 10. 36. He that thinks to get to Heaven without an entire resignation of himself to Gods will; had need provide an Heaven of his own, and a Ladder of his own too to get thi­ther. For there is no room for him in God's Heaven, nor any possibi­lity for him to obtain it, that will not commit himself to his conduct, and enter that way which he hath appointed him.

3. And thirdly, there is also high Reason for this Truth, on the part of the whole Creation of God: which Gods will alone preserves in being, and peace; whereas our wills would hurry it into ruine and de­struction, by perpetual wars and confusions: Meum and Tuum (we say) are the greatest make-bates and sow-strifes in the World. And how comes this to pass? The fault is not in propriety: for that is the end of strife, when every one en­joies his own. But it lies in this, that every man will be the Judge of what is his, and what another mans; measuring out propriety by his own will. Whence it is, that [Page 34] men generally think all their own, that (quocunque modo) they can get; and nothing anothers, but what they cannot get from him. Which Alexander the Great spake out plain (when, to a City that offer­ed to compound with him, upon terms of dividing their Goods and territories betwixt him and them; Eo proposito veni in Asiam, non ut id acci­perem quod de dissetis, sed ut id haberetis quod reli­quissem. Q. Curt. he answered) That he came not in­to Asia to receive what men would give him, but to assign them what he should think fit to leave them. And hence grow all wars saith St. James chap. 4. 1. because men will share the world among them according to their own lusts. Now the only way to end them, and preserve the world in Peace, is for God to interpose his Arbitra­tion. The which he doth, partly by Law, and partly by Power. It is then best with the whole world, when men will stand to the decisi­ons of Gods Law, or will of Pre­cept, in these differences. For cer­tainly (although some Atheists Totam de Diis opinionem fi­ctum a sapien­tilus Reip. causa, &c. Tull. de Nat. De. strain the notion too far, (as he whom Tully brings in, asserting, that all Religion was invented by [Page 35] Statesmen for politick ends; of whose mind I doubt there are still more than a good many) yet) it is an unquestionable Truth, that Re­ligion hath a great influence upon the peaceable Government of King­doms, nor can any Body Politick be well governed without it: seeing no other ties can be sufficient to keep any man within bounds, that hath no principle of Conscience to oblige him, longer, than till he hath power enough, and opportuni­ty offered to dis-engage himself. Whereas, when the Law of God joins with the Law of man, such a one as is truly awed thereby, dares not do any unjust action, though he could, and were sure he had power enough to secure him there­in from humane Jurisdiction.

But because there are some who have no sense of Religion at all, (and so will not stand to Gods Ar­bitration by Law) or if they have, yet are apt to interpret Gods Law for their own advantage; there­fore (to keep the world in being) God is fain to deal with these men by an Arbitration of Power, which [Page 36] (will they, nill they) they cannot [...], &c. Hom. Il. Θ. evade. Thus Homer describes his Jupiter with a pair of golden bal­lances in his hand, weighing out the Fates of Armies and Nations; to intimate that God alone deter­mines the great controversies of the world by his irresistable provi­dence, according to his own will; and by the changes and vicissitudes of Affairs, continues the course of Nature, in the channel wherein it hath run from the Creation. Thus when any part of this great body, hath grown unwieldy, by attract­ing too much nutriment to it self, he hath substracted from it, to give to others, what was expedi­ent; cantoning great Monarchies, and distributing them into more moderate Principalities; and when he hath seen it needful (on the o­ther side) strengthening weak mem­bers by accessions contributed from adjacent parts, hath enabled them to support themselves. And so in private concernments, he raiseth one Family out of the ruines of ano­ther, takes away providentially Labans wealth, and gives it to [Page 37] Jacob, Gen. 31. 9. removes one ge­neration, that another may stand Eccles. 1. 4. up in its stead; and so provides for all by succession; for whom, if they should all exist together, the whole World would not suffice (as the proud King sayes of the dust of Samaria, in reference to his nume­rous Army, 1 King. 20. 10.) to af­ford every one an handfull. And so is the World maintained, as the River is, by gaining on one banke, what it loseth on another: as the Moralist observes, that by these con­trarieties Natura hoc, quod vides, re­gnum mutatio­nibus temperat & contrarits rerum aeterni­tas constat. Sen. Ep. 107. of Providence the durati­on of this great Frame is preserved. Whereas if these Scales could be wrested out of Gods hand, and Men had them in their own; there would be no end of quarrels be­twixt them, but in a fatall ruine of them all, by means of mutuall rapines and bloodsheds,

And now, Brethren, I would fain perswade my self, that by what hath been said, your Judgments are Applyed. convinced of this truth. But that I am afraid, unruly Passions will [Page 38] not suffer them (especially in your particular concernments) to pro­nounce according to their con­victions. Reason is alwayes more easily managed than Passion; Man, than the beast in Man. The Law of the Members, as the blessed Apo­stle complains, is hardly brought into subjection to the Law of the Minde, Rom. 7. 23. whence it comes to pass, that though we know this Doctrine to be true, and will assent to it in Thesi, in general; yet in Hypothesi, (when it comes to be reduced to every Mans particular) there can hardly a Man be found that doth not perswade himself, his Case doth not fall under this Rule, nor ought he to be govern­ed by it. I complain of my self, (Christians) as well as of you. And Tertullian did so before me, who Confiteor satis temerè me, si non impuden­ter de patien­tia, componere ausum, cui praeftandae om­ninc id [...]eus non sum.—Ne dicta fa­ctis deficient i­bus erubescant De Patient. makes this ingenuous confession in the presence of God, in the very entrance of his excellent Book, De Patientia. That he had some­what imprudently, and in a manner impudently, undertaken to Treat of a Duty, which he was not able to practise: in so much, that he was [Page 39] afraid, lest his lines should blush at the disagreement that was betwixt them and his Life. Indeed, we may, all of us, if we will be inge­nuous, take up the same confessi­on, in reference to the subject of this Doctrine. We can (all of us) say, We must submit to Gods will; and (every one of us) finde rea­sons to perswade our Brethren un­to it; but, whenever Gods will crosseth us in our particular Inte­rests, how few of us are there, of whom, that may not be said true­ly, which Eliphaz charges on Job, Chap. 4. 5. Now it is come upon thee, and thou faintest, it toucheth thee, and thou art troubled. If God take a way a Neighbours Wife, Childe, Estate, we can presently say (and no words are more com­mon in our mouths, than these) that, seeing God pleaseth to have it so, he must submit to, and acquiesce in it. But when it is our own case, we must have a dispensation for our impatience, our immoderate grief, our murmuring, our dis­contented Omnes cum valemus sana consilia aegro­tis damus, &c. Ter. speeches and carriages. So much harder is it to take good [Page 40] counsel, than to give it. Now in such cases, it is plain, that our Pas­sions usurp the Throne of Reason. And therefore, I pray, give me leave, after all these Demonstrati­ons, with which I have endeavour­ed to satisfie your Judgments; to descend to some moving considera­tions to make impression upon your Affections themselves; that by ma­king a Party for God among them, I may, (by their help, once raised) be the better able to reduce those others to obedience that stand in Rebellion against him. And, be­cause there is no passion that hath a greater influence upon us, to re­cover us from our sinful extrava­gancies, than shame of the absur­dities, that attend them; (for which reason Scripture so fre­quently makes it a companion of Repentance,) I shall endeavour to stir up in you that just abhorrency and detestation of this sinfull di­stemper, as may provoke an holy and ingenuous indignation against it. Now there are two things in this sinfull opposition and resistance of heart against the will of God, [Page 41] which we may justly be ashamed of.

(1.) That it debaseth us below those, with whom we account it the greatest disparagement to be ranked and mustered. There is no Name of greater disgrace among Christians, than an Heathen: and therefore to be accounted as an Heathen, is used by our Saviour to express the high­est brand of infamy that Christia­nity can marke the greatest offen­der withall, Mat. 18. 17. So that, certainly, there can be nothing in the World, which a Christian hath more cause to blush at, than what is condemned by Heathens them­selves. Now, in the point in hand, it is amazing to think, what an height some Heathens have arrived to, beyond most of us that call our selvs Christians. As you must needs say, when you shall read in Epicte­tus, [...], &c. That a Man ought so far [...] Epict. Ench. c. 13. to renounce his own will, that he must not so much as seek, or desire to have things fall out as he will: but be willing to have them fall out as they doe: and, [Page 42] that Men come into this World, [...]. cap. 24. [...], &c. as Actors upon a Stage, who are not to choose the parts they will Act, but only to take care to Act that part decently, which is assigned them; and that Men ought to demean themselves in the World, as well­bred Persons at a Feast, who carve decently to themselves of the Dish that is set before them, but call not for that which is taken off, or set by. That thus we ought to carry our selves towards Wives, Children, Ho­nours, Estates,; use them moderate­ly, whiles God vouchsafes the en­joyment of them, but if he deny them to us, or take them from us, not to be too sollicitous after them. That a Man thus affected, [...]. cap. 21. is sit to be a Guest at the Table of the Gods; but he that can advance so high, as to despise all these, (even when he hath them) is, in a sort, a sharer with them in their Throne and Soveraignty: as also, That the chief Principle of Religion is, to have a right opinion of the Gods, as being most good and most just, and administring all affairs according­ly; that Man is appointed to obey [Page 43] and acquiesce in all that they doe, [...], &c. C. 38. Cap. 15. and to follow willingly their con­duct, as grounded on the supreme Reason: for, otherwise, Men will measure their Religion by their ad­vantages, and love their God, or hate him, as they apprehend him the cause of good or evil to them: and that Men must not say, when any enjoyment is taken from them, [...], I have lost it; but, [...], I have restored it to the right owner and proprietor thereof; restored a dead Wife, or Childe, or Friend, a wasted Estate, &c. and whiles they enjoy any thing, must look on it, as a Permittes ipsis expendere nu­minibus, quid conveniat no­bis; rebus (que) sit utile nostris: Nam pro ju­cundis, aptissi­ma quaeque da­bunt Dii. Cha­rior est illis, homo, quam si­bi. Juv. Sat. 10. Traveller on his Inn, as his own Lodging, but anothers House: To add to these, that of the Heathen-Poet (and he none of the best neither) That Men must leave it to the Gods to choose for them, who, because they love Man better than he can him­self, will choose what is most for his profit, though they deny him what is for his pleasure: and that of Se­neca, Magnus est a­nimus qui se Deo tradidit; pusillus & de­gener qui ob­luctatur. Sen. Epist. 107. That it is the property of a great, and noble Soul, to resign him­self entirely to God; and that none but a low, and degenerous Spirit [Page 44] will struggle with him. To which, in the last place, take that high Speech of one Demetrius (record­ed by the same Seneca, from his own Mouth, as he sayes) That he had onely one thing to complain of Hoc unum, in­quit, Dii im­mortales, de vobis queri possum quod non antè mihi voluntatem ve­stram notam fecistis. Prior enim ad ista venissem, ad quae nunc vocatus ad. sum.—Malu­issem offerre quam tradere. Quid opus fuit auferre? acci­pere potuistis. Sed ne nunc quidem aufe­retis, quia ni­hil eripitur nisi retinenti. Nihil cogor, nihil patior invitus: nec servio Deo, sed assentio. Sen. de Provid. in the usage he had received from the Gods; That when they designed the taking of his Earthly comforts from him, they did not acquaint him with what they meant to call for before-hand. For, (saith he) I would have prevented your cal­ling me to such a condition, by of­fering my self to it. I would have tendered what you would have had, as a present, not paid it as a Tax. What need had you to take from me, what you needed but to have accept­ed? Nor indeed shall you now pro­perly take from me any thing; see­ing that cannot be properly taken away, that is not detained. I suf­fer no compulsion at all from you, I suffer nothing against my will. I do not so much submit to the Gods, as assent and vote with them. I con­fess this last Speech savours some­what of the high Stoical Rant; (as divers other passages in Seneca [Page 45] both his own, and those quoted with commendation from others of his sect;) and therefore every ex­pression in it is not to be in strict­ness and propriety of language i­mitated or approved. But however in the high Rhetorick thereof, we may see what an Idea even an Hea­then fancy conceives of that pro­fession which man ought to attain unto, (for the Stoicks, I suppose, when they speak these things of themselves, speak their Judgments (at least) of what they design, or are convinced they ought to design the attainment of in their own pra­ctise) and thence infer; that, cer­tainly, we are not able to answer it to God, our own Conscience, or our solemn profession of Chri­stianity, if we come so vastly short of those mens, (whether aims and designs, or) avowed principles, whom we count it the greatest dis­grace to be levelled withal. And we may make use of these, and an 100 more like Instances from the Heathens that knew not God, to shame our selves, for our non-pro­ficiency in a Lesson; which even [Page 46] out of the very ruins and rubbish of fallen nature, those Philosophers were able to read so cleerly (at least,) if we will not allow them to have reduced it to practice in their lives and conversations.

But if withall, we shall be so charitable to them, as to believe they (for the main) practised ac­cording to their speeches in this kind; (and why should we not vouchsafe them so much of our charity (at least) as to allow them to be honest men, against most of whom we have little evidence to judge them other, but from the pens of their Adversaries?) then, the shame of being, not out­worded only, but out-lived also, by the men that we represent to our selves under so odious a Character, cannot but cloath our faces, and our own confusion from so just a conviction, cannot but cover us as with a mantle, when we consider that we come short of them, whom we ought so far to exceed, that a [...], a bare precedency or going be­fore them (it seems by our Saviours Question) will not serve our turns, [Page 47] except we advance to a [...] to excel them so far, as to run them out of distance, and carry the prize from them, Mat. 5. 47.

But if this consideration will not shame us into a better temper, con­sider we in the next place, that to run counter thus to the will of God, is

2. That, that is a real contradi­ction to the confessed principles and practises of Christianity, and (by consequence) fastens on us the re­proach of being false to our own a­vowed Religion. For tell me (thou that callest thy self Christian) what is Christianity, but a Doctrine that teacheth conformity to Christ? And how art thou conformable to Christ, when he professeth so of­ten, that he had no will of his own, but only his Fathers will that sent him? who in his greatest Agonies surrendred himself up to his Fa­thers will with an absolute renun­ciation of his own? Mat. 26. 39. How canst thou be a Christian, that art yet to learn the very A B C of Christianity, self-denial, and taking up the Cross (Mat. 16. 24.) [Page 48] duties so inconsistent with this maintaining a contest betwixt our wills and Gods; that the feet of the Antipodes will sooner meet, than it and they?

Thou therefore, that art of this Character, (though thou call thy self Christian never so much) know that Christianity disclaims, and Christ disowns thee.

Thou callest God thy Father, be ashamed of thy Impudence, who handlest him rather like a child un­der correction, than a Father. Thou callest him Master. How incongru­ously and incoherently with thy practise; who, whilest thou callest him so, art disputing and contend­ing who shall be more Master, thou or he?

Thou addressest thy self to him (in thy solemn prayers at least) and sayest, sanctificetur nomen tuum, adveniat regnum tuum, fiat volun­tas tua; and art thou not ashamed of thy gross hypocrisie, when (not­withstanding thy seeming devo­tion) thy heart gives thy tongue the lie, and secretly saies [My name, my Kingdom, my will] instead of [Page 49] Gods? But, possibly thou mayest profess to be so modest, as to al­low God two of these, the Name and the Kingdom; and thou only stickest at that hard word, Thy will. Thou art for the sanctification of his Name, and the coming of his Kingdom; but thou wouldest fain obtain thy will. Nay, but, thou foolish man, what shall God do with the Name or the Kingdom, if thou have the will? what a poor name will be left him in the world, if he serve only as an Instrument for man to work his own ends by? He that is the principal in any action, carries the Name of it. And what a poor Kingdom, (in­deed a meer titular, and arbitrary soveraignty) will he have; if he have his power measured out to him by the arbitrary instructions he receives from time to time from thy will? so that by the granting thee thy will, instead of a Name and a Kingdom, he leaves himself nothing, but the Name of a King­dom. Nay, indeed, to what pur­pose is it for thee to pray to him at all, if thou take thy self to be [Page 50] thus [...]? For what a vain thing is it to ask that of God, which, but from thy allowance, he hath no power to give? Besides, how pellu­cid is that hypocrisie, which pre­tends in all humble and submissive manner to begg of God; when (thy will depriving him of all power to deny thee) a royal stile would bet­ter befit thee,

Hoc volo, sic jubeo, stet pro rattone voluntas? speak out man, and tell God, (in plain English) that when thou sayst I begg, and I beseech, and I intreat, thou wilt be understood to say, I straitly will and command: bid him deny thee at his peril, thou wilt un-god him if he do, nisi Deus homini placuerit non erit Deus, (as Tertullian saies) tell him thou art Tert. Apol. resolved to own no God any longer than he shall please thee; such lan­guage is like thy self, fit for a sove­raign will to deliver it self in. And indeed, this is the genuine language of every humane will, which lifts it self into competition with Gods, so pregnant with blasphemies is it.

Thou pretendest to love God; a sorty pretence it is, and nothing [Page 51] else, whiles thou art continually mis-interpreting his actions, and Qui satis dili­gunt now cito offenduntur. Salv. Ep. 1. picking quarrels at him. He loves but poorly (saies Salvian) whom e­very trifle will offend. Thou lovest him, thou sayest. But wherefore dost thou love him? Because he gratifies thee in what thou desirest. Sic prata, & pecudes dillgi­mus. Tully. So thou lovest thy Horse when he paceth to thy mind, and thy field, when it yields fruit to thy mind, says the Orator: this is (as he says) mercatura, non amicitia, trading, not love. Thou lovest him, thou sayest, how long will that love last? till he displeaseth thee next. Thou lovest him, but tanquam osurus, as one from whom the next occasion thou takest to pick a quarrel at, will alienate thee again. Away with this boys-play, Christians; thus children are won with an apple, and Iusulsus puer, amas patrem si blanditur, o­dio habes, quod te flagellat: quasi non & blandiens & flagellans hae­reditatem pa­ret. Aug. in Ps. 32. lost with a nut, as the Proverb saith. A simple child indeed, (saith St. Au­stin) that lovest thy heavenly Fa­ther when he dandles thee, and ha­test him when he corrects thee, not considering that whether he dan­dle or correct thee, he provides a por­tion for thee!

Thou stilest thy self (it may be) not an ordinary lover, but a friend of God, and pretendest more com­munion and fellowship with him than others have. Thou deceivest thy self grosly, friend. For friend­ship Idem velle & idem nolle, per­fecta est ami­citiam. Tnlly. (the Orator will tell thee) cannot consist, but in an entire u­nion of wills: so there may be (wilt thou say) if God will reduce his will to mine, or compound the mat­ter at least; in such things and such God to have his will, and in other things to allow me my will. But stay, proud Creature, God and man are never so friends, as to become fellows. Abraham, to be sure, was God's Friend, Isay 41. 8. and yet he knew his distance, as ap­pears in that humble conference, Gen. 18. 27, 30. when a superior vouchsafes to become a friend, he expects for his condescention, to be observed and complyed withal from him whom he obligeth. This cul­tura potentis amici, husbanding of a potent friendship, is no easie matter. And it principally consists in (that, which thou art most a­verse to) the perfect melting the [Page 53] inferiors will into that of his supe­riour friend. He that claims to be Gods friend, must in many cases, either quit his will, or his friend.

Thou claimest salvation by Christ. How vainly, and incongru­ously to the whole Oeconomy of that great work, as contrived and effected by him; see in these two things.

1. In general, Christ did, doth, will do nothing in that great work for any man, but according to the will of God. Lo, I come, saith he, to do thy will, O God; thy Law is within my heart, Ps. 40. 8. Heb. 10. 9. and he professes, he came to do, not his own will, (much less any o­ther persons) but the will of him that sent him, Joh. 6. 38.

2. In special, All the offices of Christ, wherein he works out our salvation, are managed according to his Fathers will. As a Priest, he sa­crificed his will to his Father, before he offered his bloud, Mat. 26. 39, 42. As a Prophet, he spake, not of him­self, but the words that he spake, the Father gave him in Commandment, and as the Father said unto him, [Page 54] so he spake, Joh. 12. 49, 50. As a King, he derives his Authority from him that said unto him, sit thou at my right hand, Ps. 110. 1. And he received his Kingdom by way of petition from his Father: Ask of me, and I will give thee the Heathen for thine Inheritance, Ps. 2. 8. God set him as his King upon his holy hill, v. 6. made him Lord and Christ, Acts 2. 36. And answerably, the saving influence of all his Offices is dispenced in such a manner; as renders it utterly impossible for a­ny man to have benefit by them, except upon condition of an en­tire resignation of his own will to the will of God. The price of our Redemption, which he paid for us, as Priest, hath bought us wholly out of our own power, and made us en­tirely Gods peculiar. 1. Cor. 6. 19, [...]. Tit. 2. 14. 20. And in suffering for us, he hath obliged us to imitate and resemble him in his Death: exemplifying it in the crucifixion of our inordinate affections and lusts, Gal. 5. 24. The Doctrine, he hath revealed to us, as the great Prophet of the Church (in the whole scope and [Page 55] drift of it) tends to nothing else, but the modelling and moulding our hearts and lives according to the declared will of God. The pow­er he exerciseth over us as King, is erected to no other purpose, but to make us a willing people, in all points of Christian obedience, Ps. 110. 3. The grace that he bestows upon us, what is it, but the repara­tion of Gods Image in us; one main part whereof, consists in the con­formity of our wills to his? The Holy Spirit which he bestows up­on us, what is He to do, but to lead us in all dutiful obedience as the sons of God, Rom. 8. 14. and to teach us what to pray for as we ought, by making intercession for us, i. e. by exciting holy desires in us, according to the will of God? v. 26, 27. The Covenant of grace, which he by his mediation hath establish­ed and ratified, betwixt God and us; when the Apostle expounds it, what doth he mention, as one of the main Articles in it, but this; that God will put his Laws into our minds, and write them in our hearts? i. e. reduce our wills to a perfect [Page 56] conformity to his own, Heb. 8. 10?

So that, from all these instances, it is evident, that to advance our wills into competition with Gods, & not entirely to conform them to his, destroys the whole frame of our salvation wrought by Christ; so that it must be as inconsistent a thing to hope to be saved by Christ, and yet to design the reservation of our own wills to ourselves, as to expect the House stand firm, when we dig up the foundation that bears the whole building.

And now, let me ask thee, thou peevish, passionate, self-willed Creature, what canst thou so much as pretend to free thee from the shame of so many absurd, self-con­demning inconsistencies, and con­tradictory absurdities? Object.

Object. Wilt thou say, thou art willing to submit thy will to Gods, so far as thou canst in reason be sa­tified concerning it? But whiles thy Reason dissents, thy will (that is managed according to that which Reason dictates) cannot consent. Such and such particulars in the go­vernment of the world, and the ma­nagery [Page 57] of thine own private con­cerns, thou canst not but think, might have been ordered better o­therwise: & thou hopest God will not be angry with thee, if thou rea­son the case with him, as Jeremy did chap. 12. 1. in order to thine own satisfaction.

Generously said, and much like a Answ. Man! but (I must tell thee) too little savouring of a Christian Thou wouldest have God satisfie thy Reason, what Reason dost thou mean? thy carnal Reason? That must not be satisfied, but subdu­ed, and every [...], every [...], the sublime notions, and acute ar­gumentations of it, must be reduced into captivity to the obedience of Christ, 2 Cor. 10. 5. meanest thou thy renewed, sanctified Reason? The very genuine property there­of, is, to be satisfied in every thing God doth (eo nomine) upon no o­ther ground but this, that he did it, Ps. 30. 9. The notions that it hath of Gods wisdom, goodness, ju­stice, soveraignty, &c. (before Sit pro omni­bus rationibus, actor Deus. Salv. de Gub. Dei, L. 3. mentioned) are to it instead of all Reasons to sway it into an humble [Page 58] subjection, yea, prostration to his will and pleasure.

Again, Thou wilt have thy Rea­son satisfied. But when will that be? That Reason which Gods pleasure will not satisfie, nothing else will satisfie; for, besides the pride which naturally men take in censuring, (especially their bet­ters) which alone would produce innumerable cavils; (so that the great Creator of the world (as Ter­tullian saies to Marcian) would be able to do nothing, that would not yield matter of censure to these Quid faceret Creator ne a Marcionitis reprehende­retur. Tert. Adv. Marc. L. 2. censores divinitatis; but upon e­very turn they would presume to tell him, sic non debnit Deus, & sic magis debuit, so he should not have done, and so he might have done better:) I say, besides the pride that humane Reason would take in cavilling, the self-love al­so that is naturally in every man, would (after God had offered the utmost satisfaction) prompt him to hold the conclusion pertinaciously, when beaten by the strongest con­viction out of both the premises, applauding his own sophistry [Page 59] above Divine demonstration.

Lastly, Thou wouldest bedealt with as a man, and have thy Rea­son satisfied. And shall God have done, when he hath satisfied thee? will he not find all the world alike desirous of satisfaction with thee? And is there not as much reason for every one to desire it as for any one? For, what can be urged, why thou shouldest obtain it, which may not as well be pleaded for all the men in the world? If then the Creator of the world, shall be obliged to satis­fie all mankind in all that he doth, what an impossible task would this prove? Do not mens Judgments differ as much as their Faces? and will not that that will satisfie one upon that account, dis-satisfie thousands?

So, that still thou art absurd in thy Demands, and instead of being answered by Reason, deservest (as Job did when he was much in thy strain) to be answered out of a whirlwind, Job. 38. 1.

But, thou wilt say, it may be, it Object. is but a small thing that I desire to be gratified in. I am contented to [Page 60] leave the main government of the world to God; and not only so, but my own particular concerns, as to the substance: and all that I would have submitted to my will, amounts to no more than the alteration of a few circumstances. Losses, I could submit to, but this pincheth me; that they befall me in such an en­joyment, which I could worst spare, in such a manner, such a measure, such a time, by such instruments: And would it not be a small matter for God to gratifie me in these petty things?

Mistake not thy self, friend, in Answ. calling this a small matter. No;

Magnapetis Phaethon,—(proud Creature) these are great things, far greater than thou ap­prehendest. 'Twas a great offer that Herod made the Daughter of his Minion Herodias, when he bad Mar. 6. 23. her ask to the half of his Kingdom. But thy demands herein to thy God, are greater than his offer. For thou askest not half only, but the far better half of Gods Kingdom. For although circumstances in a metaphysical consideration, be but [Page 61] small things, the meer garments, or (less it may be) trimmings of an action: yet in a moral considerati­on, these garments are more worth than the body, these trimmings than the stuff. For the circumstan­ces here, make a thing what it is. Such an action, as God cloaths it with circumstances, is just and good; alter the circumstances, thou alterest the nature of it: as he cir­cumstantiates it, it is the Physick of thy Soul wisely compounded for thy cure; let thy private will be but admitted to leave out or al­ter one scruple of the Ingredients, and this Physick will become thy Poyson.

Besides; be thy Demands, as thou fanciest, but small, yet still they are demands; and therefore (in this respect) great matters, because upon the refusal of them, thou re­solvest (it seems) to hold out the Fort of thy Heart in Rebellion a­gainst thy Maker. The smaller the Terms are in this case, the greater thy disloyalty, who upon such small terms suspendest, yea denyest thy Allegiance to thy Lord and Sove­raign. [Page 62] Know therefore (for a close of this point) that thou art absurd­ly impertinent in all thy pretensi­ons against the equity of this Duty, the resignation of thy will univer­sally to the will of God. For here­in Heathens themselves condemn thee; thine own avowed princi­ples of Christianity confute thee; yea, thy own Reasons and Argu­ments to the contrary, militate a­gainst thee. And therefore thou hast nothing more to do (if thou wilt not do amiss) but to lie down Jer. 3. 25. in thy shame, and repent thee (with holy Job, after a like sawcy de­bate with his Maker) in dust and Job. 40. 4, 5. 42. 3, 6. ashes, acknowledging, that thou hast medled with what thou under­stoodest not, and therefore wilt proceed no farther, but quietly lay thy hand on thy mouth, and (with the brethren in the Text) [...], rest satissied, and give his Will no farther interruption or distur­bance; which brings my discourse and awakens your attention to the second considerable in the matter of my Text, which comes now to hand.

2. The Factum, or what these 2. The se­cond Branch the Factum. brethren did, in pursuance of what they said, [...], we ceased. The word in the Original, is of a great latitude. Ordinarily it is u­sed to express a quiet, silent, calm, and peaceable deportment, without the least commotion in ones self, or disturbance of others. When Wars and Tumults are ended in a Nation, that no person contrives or at­tempts new broils, they are by the Greek Historians, generally said, [...]. And in this notion, it may well sute here. Whiles man desires one thing, and God designs another, there is, as it were a war (at least contest) betwixt God and him, whose will shall prevail; but when we resign our wills, and entirely rest in his; then we do yield him the Victory, and are at Peace with him. But there is more in it than so. For a conquered Nation, may be at peace, and free from creating any more broils; not from any sa­tisfaction in their condition, but from-conviction of the bootlessness of stirring any more to alter it. And therefore the Etymologists find [Page 64] something also in this word, that imports an inward complacency and pleasedness of spirit in that condi­tion, wherein a man is thus quiet and peaceable. For they tell us, it comes from [...], that signifies in­ward [...], quasi [...]. satisfaction, delight and plea­sure, so that the Lesson which it learns us in this latitude, is

That he that duly submits to Gods 2. Observa­tion. will, doth with unspeakable calm­ness, tranquility, and satisfaction of mind, acquiesce therein.

A truly noble, and Christianly Its Explica­tion, and Evi­dence. Heroical frame of spirit this Do­ctrine expresseth; which (accord­ing to the former explication of the word) includes two things, to be endeavoured and laboured af­ter by all Christians.

1. An inward serenity and clear­ness of mind, that (like a calm af­ter a storm) doth motos compònere fluct us, lay all the waves that rum­pled Virg. and ruffled a mans soul, whe­ther from dissatisfaction of judg­ment, or disorder of affections. So that instead of tumultuating thoughts, and tempestuous passions, there is, in the Soul of man so [Page 65] quieted (what the Evangelist tells us Christs increpation reduced the winds and sea unto, Mat. 8. 26.) [...], a great calm. And this, to make it the more plain to you, I shall shew in parts.

1. A mans Judgment is reconci­led to think well of the doings of God, which before (possibly) he proudly and peremptorily censu­red and condemned; and he is sa­tisfied in them, as most just and good: whence the man is highly pleased in what God hath done; as concluding, that had it been left to himself to order, he knew not how to have mended it in the least circumstance! Thus did Hezeki­ah [...], Good, faith he, is the word of the Lord which thou hast spoken; and 'tis remarkable, that this word which he owns as so good, was a severe threatning of the Prophet Isaiah from God, that was to befall his Kingdom and po­sterity: and yet, he is reconciled to it, in his Judgment. And he re­peats it again (with the reason of his acquiescence in it with so high a satisfaction.) For he said moreo­ver, there shall be peace and truth [Page 66] in my daies, Is. 38. 8. or (as it is rendred in the parallel place, 2 Kin. 20. 19.) Is it not good, if peace and truth be in my daies? q. d. However, the Judgments threatned be severe to my posterity, in whom I am deeply concerned, yet there is more mercy in it than I could have expected, seeing God hath lengthen­ed out the tranquility of his Church and people during my time. I am (holy Prophet) conscious of an offence (brought home to me by thy ministry) which deserved a worse Judgment; and therefore, I am highly pleased that God hath so mi­tigated his severity. I could not with reason have wished a more mo­derate correction. Thus did David [...], when he cries out, it is good for me that I have been af­flicted, q. d. I would not for all the world have been otherwise dealt with, than God hath dealt with me, in these my sad and doleful afflicti­ons, and persecutions from Saul: and he gives a reason of it too, be­cause it learned him Gods statutes, Ps. 119. 71. and again he speaks his high approbation of Gods seve­rities, v. 75. I know, O Lord, that [Page 67] thy Judgments are right, and that in much faithfulness thou hast af­flicted mee, thou hast discharged the part of a trusty & faithful friend, in all that thou hast inflicted up­on me. I know I had been worse if I had fared better. Had God gratified my humour, he had falsifi­ed his Trust, his Covenant, where­in he stands engaged to me, to give grace and glory, and detain no good thing from me, Ps. 84. 14. 34. 10. Will you see (yet) an higher appro­bation given to God in his severest Providences? Look on Job then: who when God had made him poor to a Proverb, and that by several gradations and successive advan­ces of afflicting providences, and those arriving at his knowledge by several frighted Messengers one af­ter another, (which is among men accounted the greatest addition of torture that can be, to destroy a man gradually, that he may senti­re se mori, be sensible of every ap­proach of death distinctly) yet he falls on his face and worships the Lord, and saies, The Lord hath gi­ven, the Lord hath taken (he ac­knowledgeth the justice of his pro­ceedings) [Page 68] he had done him no wrong, to call for his own back a­gain: (and he proceeds) I must have left them shortly, for I must have re­turned naked to the Earth (my Mo­ther whence I was taken) and God hath but taken them from me a lit­tle sooner, Blessed be the name of the Lord. This last now, is an high word, to bless God for such losses, shews the judgment to be satisfied in the inflicting of them, as in the greatest of Mercies. Methinks I hear him descanting upon this plain-song thus, Blessed be God that hath taken so effectual a course (to wean me from the world, and to bring me to an entire acquiescence in himself, for my only portion) as this, the leaving me nothing else to rival him in my affections. Blessed be that sharp affliction, which in­stead of letting out my heart blood, hath only lanced an Imposthume. Blessed be the name of the Lord that hath taken from me the rack, and strappado of my anxious thoughts, the fewel of my lusts, the snares of my heart, the canker of my graces, the matter of my temp­tations, [Page 69] the clogg of my holy affe­ctions, the thief of my devotions, the barr and wall of partition be­twixt my soul, and its full, entire, and satisfactory communion with God. Thus high goes the satisfacti­on of the judgment, in this [...], or calm serenity of Soul, acquies­cing in Gods will.

2 And the Affections in this case are not behind hand; being (not only from a strong tide of op­position to the will of God (it may be) reduced to a dead water; but) by a contrary Tide (occasioned by the moving of Gods holy spirit up­on them) turned back, and made to run in the same stream with it, neither do they (as they say some swift Rivers do, that passing through great Lakes keep their own waters unmixed) reserve any thing of their own; but mingle themselves entirely with that Oce­an of infinite perfections into which they are swallowed. So, that let God do what he will, such a soul loves him entirely, desires him af­fectionately, trusts and hopes in him securely, delights in him satisfa­ctorily; [Page 70] and (on the other side) grieves for nothing but offending him, fears nothing but that it may offend him again, is angry at no­thing but its own foolish prejudi­ces, and hard thoughts of him, for which it could even tear it self piece-meal, out of a just indigna­tion; befooling and be-beasting it self, for tumultuating against him, Ps. 73. 22. &c. And hence ariseth that strange [...], or Christian Epicurism, (if I may so call it) wherein the ravished Soul can do (that which Epicurus only vaunt­ed of) cry out even in Phalaris his Bull, Quam dulce! O how sweet and pleasant, and delicious are the greatest afflictions! so the Apostle James, Count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations: and the other Apostle speaks of it as a thing of common experience; both his own, I take pleasure, [...], find high complacency and satisfaction in varieties of grievous sufferings, 2 Cor. 12. 10. and his brethrens al­so, as he witnesseth, Rom. 5. 3. We (not I only, but I, and my fellow-Christians) [...], glory, crow, [Page 71] and triumph in tribulations. Thus serene and calm is the Soul, when it satisfactorily rests in Gods will.

2. It implies also an outward te­stification of this inward serenity and calmness of mind, and that in all our carriages and deportments. A mans very countenance witness­eth the complacency of the heart in Gods good pleasure. It doth not fall and lowre, with Cains, out of wrath, and high indignation a­gainst God, Gen. 4. 5. No fire of anger sparkles in the eies; no wrinkles of care, sollicitousness and forethought furrow the brows; no melancholly paleness, or vexing leanness disfigures the cheeks: but the merry heart (as Solomon saies) makes a cheerful countenance, Prov. 15. 13. and the light and health that is in that (Job. 29. 24. Ps. 42. 9.) speaks the sound and healthy constitution of the Soul that shines through it. For Index animae vul­tus; the face is the minds inter­preter.

The Tongue, is not only bound to the good behaviour, as to all ex­pressions of discontent and dis­pleasure, [Page 72] as Davids was, Ps. 39. 9. but contrarily, enlarged, and set at liberty to sound forth the high praises of God, and bless him (as Job) in the greatest afflictions, in every thing giving thanks, 1 Thes. 5. 18. and glorifying him even in the Fires, Is. 24. 5.

Lastly, the very gestures, carria­ges, and deportments of the whole body, testify that the spirit is light­some, debonaire, and free from all such black and clowdy thoughts as usually derive an unpleasing gloo­miness, and lowring sullenness into the whole conversation. So David, when God had declared his Will in reference to his Child, by and by alters the whole Garb of his con­versation, washeth his cloaths, and annoints himself, and changeth bis apparel, and eats and drinks as formerly, 2 Sam. 12. 20.

You will say, this is an high Application. pitch of perfection indeed, and ve­ry desirable, but yet such, as it may be questionable, whether it be possible to be attained, and so con­sistent either with nature or duty? For, is it naturally possible so to­tally [Page 73] to cast off humanity, whiles we live here below, as not to be af­fected with any the sinless soft­nesses, and imbecilities of it? And did our Saviour himself so far comply with them, as frequent­ly to express a sense of humane infirmities? Besides, it being not only lawful, but a duty in us, to fear when God threatens, and grieve when he smites; does not this carriage seem to import a stoi­cal Apathy, betwixt which and Christian Patience there is a con­fessed Antipathy? Nay, lastly, where the affliction is extraordina­rily oppressing, how extreamly dif­ficult is it for the most resolved Saint so to mortifie the very exces­ses incident to lapsed nature, as to keep within any distance in this ho­ly race to those high examples but now mentioned; so that in us to be contented to fall beneath them seems a becoming humility?

I Answer, that, notwithstanding whatever in this kind is or may be objected, that which I have been speaking of, is secure from dan­ger. For,

1. As to the sinless resentments of nature, I grant it neither pos­sible nor lawful wholly to put them off, and therefore require not of any man so to do; only I forbid them to obstruct any opera­tion of Grace, which if they do, they cease to be sinless.

2. A due sensibleness of Gods af­flicting hand, if joined (as it ought to be) with a due considera­tion of our own deserts, is not only consistent with, but also highly conducing to that highest degree of Acquiescence in Divine Provi­dence which I am treating of, and so militates for my Hypothesis; and

Lastly, The total mortification of the sinful redundancies of natu­ral passion, though confessed to be extreamly difficult, is also con­fessedly a Duty, and (by conse­quence) gradually attainable: and so, seeing in the Saints mention­ed it appears a perfection actually acquired, we are not to impute it to special priviledge that they ac­quired it, but to Gods blessing up­on their holy endeavours; and make their examples a spur to our in­dustry, [Page 75] accounting whatever dis­swades us from it, nothing else but sluggishness in an humble disguise. And therefore dis-hearten not thy endeavours by forcasting impossi­bilities. For, as Epictetus encou­rageth [...], &c. [...] Ench. C. 75. the young Candidate of his Philosophy, whom he had startled with the eminent example of So­crates, by telling him, that in the practise of the principles he lays down, Socrates became what he was, and that though he be not yet a So­crates, yet by aiming and design­ing to become a Socrates, and living answerably to those aims, he might in time arrive at the same perfecti­on with him: so do I encourage thee, Despair not of reaching to the high perfections of Job, David, He­zechiah, and other eminent Saints; for thou mayest in time come to be such an one as they were, if thou wilt live and do as becomes one who intends to be so.

My next business, therefore, shal Directions. be to give thee such Directions, by the practise whereof thou may­est advance towards, and in time arrive at this noble pitch.

1. First, then, thou must Love God sincerely, not only for what thou receivest and expectest from him, but also, and principally, for what thou seest and accordingly a­dorest in him. And labour to im­prove the Love thou hast for him into an intimate acquaintance and friendship with him. For hereby thou wilt grow so far satisfied in him, that thou wilt be assured he neither can nor will order any thing that befalls thee otherwise than may stand with thy best ad­vantage; thy heart will rest se­curely in him; and thou wilt not find a place in thy bosom for su­spicion or censure of any thing he doth; yea, thou wilt be studious to please and approve thy self to him in all things; and think no­thing thou hast too dear for him to dispose of at his pleasure, which he will vouchsafe to call for or make use of; but rather, (as we use to express our selves to our in­timate friends when they have oc­casion for any thing in our posses­sion) thou wilt tell him from thy heart, that thou art heartily glad [Page 77] thou hadst it for him.

2. Interpret Gods providences candidly. Take every thing from [...]. Epict. C. 65. him by the best Handle. If any better construction than other can be made of his dealings, take hold of that, and therewithal silence thy passionate prejudices and mis-re­presentations that art apt to mis­lead thee. What a false glass is to a beautiful face, and the moved water to a streight staff, that is pre­judicate opinion to the best of Gods Actions. There is a rare Beauty in all Providences as God orders them, Eccles. 3. 11. do you but hang them in a good light, and wipe your eies from all infectious tinctures of prepossession, and they will appear no less amiable to you, than they are in themselves.

3. Desire moderately, For what we have an immoderate appetite unto, as the Israelites to flesh, Num. 11. 13. and an inordinate longing for, as Rachel for Children, Gen. 30. 1. we are apt to over-expect: what we over-expect; if we attain it, we are prone to over-love, and if we miss of attaining it, or lose it a­gain [Page 78] when attained, to over­grieve. And then do our discon­tents advance themselves upon our disappointments, and an hundred to one, if (while in our unbounded passions, we fling about us like en­raged beasts) we dash not some dirt in the face of God the Author, as well as on the persons and things which he makes use of as the In­struments of our Defeats. No man knows what a black train of da­ring impieties may be at the heels of any inordinate desire; even such, as if he were told of before, that is most favourable to himself, when transported to them, he would bless himself from the very thought of them.

4. Maintain a noble and heroi­cal Faith in God, both concerning the affairs of this life, so far as they fall under Divine Promises, and those of the Life to come. And because the security you have for both is not alike, you must princi­pally fix your confidence in that which relates to your Souls and their concernments; and then ha­ving raised a well grounded assu­rance [Page 79] concerning them, you will the more easily quench those sparks of unbelief which are apt to disquiet you in reference to affairs of an in­feriour nature. For he that can de­posite his soul with God, being as­sured (with the blessed Apostle, 2 Tim. 1. 12.) that he will [...], keep that important pledge faithfully; will easily trust and acquiesce in him for all other things. For will any man distrust him for Counters, whom he intrusts with Gold and Pearls? And hence it will follow, that the more nob­ly and generously your Faith in all things rests in God, the more full and clear will your satisfactions be concerning him in all his deal­ings; so that you will not be ea­sily shaken in your expectations from him, or debauched into mis­constructions of him; yea, love, joy, and delight in him, will act as high as our Faith, even in defiance of all appearing contradictions and impossibilities. So was it with the Church, Hab. 3. 17, 18. Although the Fig-tree shall not blossom, nei­ther shall fruit be in the Vine, the [Page 80] labour of the Olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat, the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no heard in the stalls: yet will I rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of my salvation.

5. Remember what you have re­ceived from God gratefully, and compare it with what you want, or lose; which if you do, you will find (upon account) a thousand mercies, it may be, to one or two in considerable crosses. What the Mo­ralist tells us is the too common fault of Ambition, that, non respi­cit, it looks with envy at those few that are before, but never looks back with gratitude at those many that in the Princes favour come be­hind; thou mayest observe to be the fault of thy discontent, it doth not respicere, not look back upon the many mercies bestowed, or the many other crosses escaped, but on­ly forward, upon that one mercy or cross, which it desires or eschews Could we keep an exact account of the various dealings of God with us all our life long, and con­front [Page 81] his afflicting with his obli­ging providences, we should find abundance of cause to acknow­ledge even the most miserable term of life, to be fuller of mercies than miseries; as the Poet tells us, that whoso compares the fair and foul daies of a year together, ‘— Inveniet plures solibus esse dies,’ Ovid. will find the fair daies to exceed in number. Set the one against the other (as Solomon saies of the daies of adversity and prosperity, Eccles. 7. 14.) and thou wilt find nothing after him to carp or quarrel at. He that will give God thanks for what he hath taken, must (accor­ding to Jobs order) first consider what he hath given, Job. 1. 21.

6. State your own condition just­ly, not measuring it by Phantasie, but right Reason. Opinion makes most men miserable, who would not be so, did they not conceive themselves to be so. Whence Epi­ctetus Tam miser est quisque quam credit. Sen. Ep. 78. Ench. cap. 5. (often before mentioned) adviseth us to say to all the most frightful evils, [...], thou that appearest so sca­ring a thing, art not the evil indeed [Page 82] that thou seemost to be; but the spe­ctrum, the phantosm, the apparition thereof. It is true, (which the Stoick will not allow) that sickness, poverty, disgrace, loss of Friends, pain and death, are not, as he saies, meer Phantosms of evil, for they are really and indeed evils: but thus far his words have an un­doubted truth in them, that our opinion makes them greater evils by far than they be, the shape in which our abused phantasie be­holds them is

far biggar and more dismal, than that which properly belongs to them. But here is the misery; we by our phantasies dress the evils we have to do with (like whiflers) in the most terrible visors that may be, and then, forgetting that they are the creatures of our own imagination, we suffer our selves to be affrighted with them.

Yea, commonly, we commit a grosser absurdity than this is, whiles we suffer our selves to be abused into sad disorders and distempers of spirit, by the meer opinions of [Page 83] others. How easie a thing it is to Nemo aliorum sensu miser est, sed suo. Salv. de G. D. 1. make a melancholly man sick in­deed, by confidently perswading him that he is so, experience hath evidenced in divers instances. And the like fallacy, is ordinarily put upon us by the vulgar opinion of those things which befal us, which makes us think worse of what we undergo, than our own reason (yea or sense) otherwise, would pro­nounce. Now, in all such cases, we must strip all those affrighting e­vils which so disturb us, of whate­ver, opinion (our own or others) hath cloathed them withall; and after so doing, judge of them by the di­ctates of sound Reason informed from the Scripture. And then, that providence of God towards us which in a disguise looked like a Devil, when stripped of it, will ap­pear a good Angel; and instead of running from its gripes, we shall run into its embraces.

7. Mind your work that God hath laid out for you to do, seriously and industriously. For, what one saies of Love, is true of discontent and dissatisfaction in Gods proceced­ings; [Page 84] it is otiosorum negotium, the [...], Diog. apud Laert. L. 6. business of unbusied souls, who have the more leasure to mind their wants and losses, because they make holy-day from their work. Whereas he that minds his great business of Eternity seriously, will rub through with mean accommo­dations here, and be so sollicitous to prevent the loss of his own Soul, that no other loss will much affect him.

8. Hold the scales even, in these 4 Comparisons.

1. Betwixt God and your selves, I mean not only in his infinite wis­dom laid against your folly, his in­finite justice against your fond and unjust partiality, his infinite good­ness against your badness, his infi­nite greatness against your mean­ness: but also in the collation of his dealings with your own deser­vings. A judgment duly poised, will alwaies find sin outweigh suf­fering: and instead of upbraiding God with its merits, find cause in abundance to deprecate its deme­rits. He that imputes sin to him­self will not dare, whatever he [Page 85] suffer, to impute the least hard or Patienter obi­mus quod nobis impatamus. De Pat. injurious dealing to God: but will patiently bear what he can find none so justly to blame for as him­self, as saies Tertullian. Considering that whatever a sinner suffers, that Facile est qutcquid in praesenti sae­culo neccat; issud grave quod in ater­nitate jugula­bit. L. 2. Salv­ad Ecl. La. is less than Hell, is so much less than he deserves: so easie a burthen is that which hurts us only in this world, in comparison with that which will damn us to Eternity, that is, suffering than sin! There is not a more quieting consideration in the world, than this duly applyed; that, (as one well saies) whatever, Nontam mise­ri quam mali G. D. L 1. and how great soever our miseries are, our sins are greater.

2. Betwixt your selves and o­thers, whether compared as men, or as Christians. He that compares himself as a man with other men, will find this allay to his sufferings, that he suffered nothing but in com­pany, nothing, but what is [...], Ferre quam sortem patiun­tur omnes, Ne­mo recusat. Sen. in Troad. Queri, quod spargaris in publico ridicu­lum. Sen. Ep. 107. common to humanity, 10. 13. And an Heathen will tell him then, that no mans shoulders are too good to be laid under a common burthen. And another will acquaint him, that it is ridiculous for any one to [Page 86] complain that he is dashed with dirt in a publick Road, where all Tra­vellers must look to fare alike.

But if we compare our selves with others, as Christians (except pride and self-conceitedness do miserably delude us) it will be a great abatement to our vexation, that we shall find abundance of better men than our selves faring worse, and the greatest Saints of­tentimes the greatest sufferers.

3. Betwixt the happiness which you enjoy in God, and that which in other things you are either deny­ed or deprived of. When Hannah complains to Elkanah her Husband of her barrenness, he thinks it a sufficient consideration to qualify her discontent, that she enjoyed in him a mercy better than ten sons, 1 Sam. 1. 8. And may not thy God with much more reason stop thy quarrelling mouth, when thou complainest of thy losses in Crea­ture-comforts, with a question of a like nature, Am not I better to thee than ten, yea, than ten thou­sand such children, Wives, Friends, Estates? He that, notwithstanding [Page 87] all his losses, hath a God still, may assure himself that (to allude to the Poets consolation of his cheat­ed — Nec, tam te­nuis census ti­bi contigat, ut mediocris Ja­ctur ae te mer­gat onus.—Juv. sat. 13. [...] friend) he is too rich to be un­done, though the whole Creation fail him at once. He that can say with David, thou art my portion, O Lord, Ps. 119. 57. will have cause to say with Jacob too. I have e­nough, yea, I have all, Gen. 33. 11. and (by consequence) will not think it reasonable to be over-trou­bled at what his God takes from him, be it what it will, whiles, Non est abla­tus qui dedit, quamuis abla­tum faerit quod dedit. In Ps. 32. though (as Saint Austin saith) he hath taken away his gifts, he hath not taken away the Giver. Upon which consideration, the Psalmist plucks up his spirits, and recovers himself out of a deep and dange­rous discontent, Ps. 73. 25. &c. and comforted himself in a woful extremity, 1. Sam. 30. 6. In a word, the least advantage that can be made of this meditation, cannot be less than the suppressing unruly passion for a while, upon this consideration, that to give it the bridle upon any other loss is the ready way to endanger the loss [Page 88] of him (as to the sense of his fa­vour) who is infinitely better than all things else.

4. And lastly, betwixt that which you hope to enjoy hereafter, and the utwost of what you can endure here. And in this comparison, the Apostle holding the balance of the Sanctuary, hath alteady turned the scale to your hands in that notable Text, Rom. 8. 18. I reckon (saith he) that the sufferings of this life (indefinitely) are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed. And again, 2 Cor. 4. 17. [...]. Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us an hyper­hyperbolical and eternal weight of glory. Where he laies a feather in one scale, and a mountain in the o­ther, yea,— Pelion Ossae, heaps Mountain upon Mountain, hyper­bole upon hyperbole, to set out the vast disproportion betwixt our greatest possible afflictions, and our far greater certain expectations.

In a word (to shut up this Point) consider, that he that is the [...], who appoints the work, and gives the rewards of Patience; that [Page 89] great God, (who (as Tertullian De Patientia. saies) is idoneus Patientiae sequester, the fittest Trustee in the world with whom to deposit the Prizes which that noble Grace runs for) sees and observes, how you run this Race that is now set before you, Heb. 12. 1. and will, if you acquit your selves gallantly, honour you here, as well as crown you hereafter; as appears from the second general Part of my Text which comes now to challenge a brief dispatch, viz.

II. The Form, which consists in The second general Part of the Text. the historical narration, upon sa­cred Record, of what these Bre­thren said and did, under so great a Trial. Whence we learn two things by way of Corollary.

1. That we had need to take heed Corollary 1. that in our Afflictions we do not, under the observation of Gods cri­tical eie (who gave order to his Penman Saint Luke to record this passage, and thereby records him­self an exact observer how his Saints bear Crosses) mis-behave our selves any way; whether in heart, by pride, discontent, dis­pleasure, [Page 90] and secret murmurings against him or his proceedings; or in language, whiles such expressi­ons slip through the [...] (as Homer calls it) that fence of teeth, within which our Tongue is by na­ture intrenched, as travel without the Pass of Reason, and Religion; such as bewray our own irregular Passions, or provoke other mens; or in cariage and demeanour, beha­ving our selves like a wild Bull in a Net, Is. 51. 20. or as the troubled Sea that casteth up mire and dirt, Is. 57. 20. or rather like the raging Daemoniack, Mar. 9. 18. but in a calm, sedate, and submissive man­ner govern our thoughts, words, and actions, as those who in Chri­stian patience possess our own souls, having not surrendred them to any inordinate passion, Luke 21. 19. and are able to manage that unru­ly beast, which if he can fling us, will trample us under his feet.

2. And secondly, That it can­not Corollary 2. but be well-pleasing to God, if we also make the like observations of the gallant speeches and actions of his heroical Saints in the like [Page 91] occurrences, or otherwise. For, surely, he that not only observed himself, but also took order to transmit to posterity what these Christians said and did in so no­table an exigence, herein gives us an example beyond exception. And it may be of singular use to us to follow it, upon a double ac­count.

Partly, that we may our selves be excited to an holy emulation, and striving to imitate to them, as concluding that possible to be done again, which hath been done already, Heb. 6. 12. and 13. 7. yea and straining our utmost abilities to exceed them; to attempt to write fairer than the fairest copy set us by them, and (as those who run in a Race) strive most of all to conquer those who have won former prizes.

And partly, that we may declare and publish to the glory of God and the excitation of others, their vertues and graces, when any op­portunity of doing good thereby is offered unto us.

And thus, you see, I have im­proved my Text (by a just conse­quence) to serve me instead of an Apology for my next and last un­dertaking, to wit, the presenting you with such observables concern­ing the Life and Death of this pre­cious elect Lady, whom we are now met to Interr, as I have been able by utmost enquiry to gather up from those who have known her down-sitting and up-rising for ma­ny years together; and some of them curious observers of her, as a choice Piece, from her Cradle to her Grave. And I the rather credit the particulars, partly, because I know the Relators to be so judicious, as to be able to make their observati­ons with due discretion; and so conscientious withall, as not to dare willingly to abuse me and the world with an officious falsehood; and partly, because those things which I have learned from them, do so exactly correspond with that Idea of her, which (from some personal knowledge) I had before con­ceived in my own breast.

I know, (as Saint Austin in a­nother case saith) that this precious Saint now in bliss, laudes nec quae­rit nec curat humanas, neither needs nor August. Epis. Cornel. regards humane praises; yea, and I knew, that her singular mo­desty (while she lived) seemed to carry on a constant Plot by way of prevention, against the service I am about to do her, in a studied con­cealment of her great worth. But yet, seeing God hath not suffered it altogether to escape the notice of those that conversed with her (being not pleased, it seems, that so noble a Soul, though desiring it never so much, should travel through the world incognito) I ac­count it my duty to follow his pro­vidence therein, and publish that to others, for a more universal bene­fit, which he, for their particular advantage, was pleased to make some privy unto. And especially having so clear a warrant for what I do, from his own word, HONORAN­TES ME HONORABO (which, from his mouth, this Ladies noble Ance­stors have transcribed into their he­reditary Coat of Arms) those that [Page 94] honour me, I wil honour, 1 Sam. 2. 30. Whom, therefore, he hath said he will honour, we have cause to con­clude it will be acceptable to him, if we honour them too.

And in the first place, I think it A Narratixe of divers par­ticulars of note in this excellent La­dies Life and Death. fit my Account of her should begin from the very beginning of that happy Race which she hath now fi­nished. I know it belongs to the He­rald, not the Preacher, to search Pe­digrees; and I know moreover, that it is the least of commendati­ons, which yet is all that some have to commend them, to be nobly des­cended. I am of his mind that said,

that honour descending from Ance­stors can hardly be called Ours; and of the Moralists, who tells us, that Seneca Ep. 44. Nemo in nostram gloriam vixit, nec quod ante nos fuit, nostrum est: that true honour is contemporary to him that hath it, not to be born in one age, and worn in another. But yet, as a sparkling Diamond shines with more advantage, when set in Gold; so do personal vertues re­ceive [Page 95] much external additament of lustre, when the person in whom they are, is, ex meliore luto, of a more noble extraction. And in­deed men generally love to trace famous Rivers to their Fountains, which Heathen Antiquity alwaies honoured with a kind of Divinity, for blessing the world with so plen­tiful and lasting a succession of be­neficial streams.

The descent, therefore, of this precious Lady was from an emi­nently noble Family, the House of Huntingdon; the Earldom where­of hath continued so long in the name of HASTINGS, that by meer Age it hath worn out most of those that preceded in the Catalogue of English Earls; and now, in the Person of her hopeful Brother, sets its foot upon the seaventh Round from the very Top of that scale of Honour. And yet this humble La­dy, whiles she lived, made so little reckoning thereof, that she was ne­ver known either in word or car­riage to shew any elation of spirit upon that account, which would have tempted many others, to di­vers [Page 96] disdainful and insolent extra­vagancies. Nor was she ever obser­ved discontentedly to behold her self exceeded by the affected pomps of Equipage and Retinue of divers inferiour to her in Quality; as de­siring not to contend with any in so extravagant a vanity, as that, which besides its offensiveness to o­thers, would be needlesly burden­some to her Husband. Yea, when her Husband sometimes modestly excused the tenuity of the condi­tion she had espoused (by marry­ing where she found an Heir in be­ing to a great part of the Estate) in comparison of what she descended from; she would interrupt that discourse with professing the high satisfaction she took to find her self in such a state of life, wherein she had both liberty and assistance to all works of severe Piety, and withall, the addition of an honourable and comfortable worldly competency. The consideration whereof hath prevailed with me to pass over this head with so slight a touch. And yet I could not but touch it, partly, for the lasting honour of that noble [Page 97] Family, to which it may be some accession, to have yielded the world so eminent an example of all manner of vertue; and partly, that in so notable an Instance, this dreg­gy age of ours (base enough in­deed of it self, but withal, too much sowred into a contempt of no­bility by the scandalous debauche­ries of too many nobilia portenta, (as Valerius Maximus calls the de­generous Issue of the famous old Romans) whose noble extractions serve for nothing else, but to make their vices more notable) may be convinced, that, at least, some no­ble ones are called, 1 Cor. 1. 26. and that vertue and grace may be grafted on a stock of Honour; the same person being (as St. Austin said of Demetrias) both nobilis ge­nere, Epist. ad Prob. & Julian. and nobilior sanctitate, enno­bled by the first birth, but more by the second; having both that nobili­ty that is [...], & that which is [...], that bloud in the veins which is extracted from many no­ble and Princely Families, and that grace in the heart, which is no less than semen Dei, the seed of God [Page 98] received from the regeneration of the Holy Ghost.

Her Education, (under which I comprise the greatest part of her time, for she was not much above a year a Wife) was in a School, or ra­ther Academy of Learning, and Nursery of Vertue; I mean, the constant inspection and converse of her watchful Mother, the now Countess of Huntingdon, from whose great Parts and Graces, she received in her soul that vis plastica which formed her into so eminent, a both Woman and Christian. Under ber, she enjoyed an education (for the most part) in a religious retiredness, which she hath often blessed God for, as that which not only secured her from the knowledge of any vice by domestical example (no such —Citius nos corrumpunt vi­tiorum exem­pla domesticae. Juv. Sat. thing daring to shew it self under that noble Ladies Government) but also removed her from the very news of what evils were acted a­broad; so that she had the happi­ness, Neque Pelopidarum facta, ne­que nomen audire, to be ignorant of the viciousness of other great personages, even by hearsay.

And as for those Principles that might qualify her for a vertuous life; as she had the opportunity of learning them from the practises of those she conversed withall, so also (and chiefly thence) from the grave instructions of her said La­dy-Mother; who, that the whole compass of her duty might be the more firmly impressed into memo­ry, took the pains to digest all the parts of it into Verse, whereby she both consecrated an excellent vein of Poetry of her own, and in the most facile manner insinuated them into the hearts and heads of both her, and her Lady-Sisters.

Whence it is the less to be won­dred at, that she found her comfort in all of them to grow with their years; but especially in this Lady, who had a Soul so pliable and du­ctile to receive the impressions of so excellent a stamp, as appeared by the proportionable improve­ments which she attained in every stage of her Life, as we come now to relate.

And first, For her Child-hood, (though I know Tully is reported [Page 100] to have said, that it is the most dif­ficult Est res diffiei­lis laudare puerum, &c. In fragm. undertaking in all Oratory to commend a child, because the most that can be said in such a case, is rather, spes than res, matter of fu­ture expectation, than present exi­stence; yet) I shall tell you those realities even of that tender Age, as had something of rare excellen­cy in them, besides the presage of what they promised for the future. It is noted as a rare thing in young Timothy, by Saint Paul himself, that [...] from a very suckling, he had known the holy Scriptures, 2 Tim. 3. 15. and from that preco­cious piety it is no wonder if we hear of certain [...] prophetical predections that usher­ed him into the worlds observation as he grew up, 1 Tim. 1. 18. ghes­ses (it is likely) what so pregnant a Child would grow to in time. Nor was it less noted in this excel­lent Lady, how early the seeds of true piety and devotion put forth, not only into blade, but blossom also and fruit: insomuch, that [...] too, such impressions of the fear of God possessed her [Page 101] heart, as made her a diligent per­former of Religious Duties, and a strict observer of the Lords Day, to a degree of exactness beyond most persons, and yet not beyond the Rule; Is. 58. 13. insomuch that she would neither discourse, nor wil­lingly hear others discoursing of a­ny common or ordinary matters on that day. And as she grew into more capacity, so to this negative strictness, she added a positive con­formity to the rules of severest godliness in this particular; not only hearing the word preached, but digesting it by meditation and con­ference into her daily conversation; being no less studious, on that day especially, to learn the mysteries of practical godliness, than in those of the rest of the week, to furnish her self with what other knowledge tended to a civil accomplish­ment.

She was also from her Infancy very conscientiously dutiful and o­bedient to her Parents, even to the very smallest punctilios wherein she had the least intimation of their pleasure. Insomuch that her Lady-Mother [Page 102] upon a special occasion, perceiving her, from the mis-ap­prehension of an advice she gave her, more affected than she desired; was fain to expound her self to her, and give her a Key wherewith to uncypher her bosom for the future, by telling her, that sundry things which she had spoken to her, were never intended as peremptory com­mands, but only as advices and counsels, which, in things of indif­ferency must not be over-strained, which considered, gains a sufficient credit to that which I have been credibly informed, that her Lady-Mother hath been heard to say, that she was the child that never offend­ed her in her life.

As she grew up, she was observed to be of a precise justice, and ex­actness to her word; which that she might the better be, (seeing it is seldom known that they that ob­serve not what they speak, are ve­ry observant of what they speak) she was very circumspect in, and ve­ry sparing and thrifty of discourse; a quality, that undoubtedly kept her from much sin (which the wise [Page 103] man tells us wanteth not in multi­tude of words, Prov. 10. 19.) and contributed much to her perfection, which the Apostle James tells us, doth much consist in the Govern­ment of that unruly member, the tongue, Jam. 3. 2. I have read in Saint Austin, of a passage quoted from Tully, wherein he commends Nullum un­quam verbum, quod revocare vellet, emisit. Aug. Ep. 7. Marc. one that he knew, for never having spoken any thing which he wished unspoken, upon which the Father descants thus. It may, saith he, be understood in a more or less favou­rable sense: for (as he goes on) a fool may be capable of this com­mendation, who, though he speaks many things fit to be recalled, yet understands not so well what he saies, as to recal any thing: but (saith he) if it be taken in the most favourable sense, concerning one that, knowing what he saies, saies nothing that he wishes unsaid af­terwards, it agrees to none so well as to those who spake by divine In­spiration. For my part (he pro­ceeds) this is far from being my commendation. For, angit me pla­ne Horatiana sententia nescit vox [Page 104] missa reverti: it is my trouble, that wishing will not render many of my words unuttered. I am sure most of us have cause to partake with that good Father in his Con­fession. But as for this exact Lady, she took the readiest course to ar­rive at Tullies character in the best sense, by doing what Seneca advi­seth, Minimum cum aliis loqui, multum cum seipso. Epist. 105. speaking much with her self, but little with others. Insomuch that a noble person of a very dis­cerning Judgment, and no less se­vere a Piety, who had the advan­tage of being a witness to almost all her Life, hath been heard to say, that she believed such a person (na­ming her) had the least account to give for words of any one that she knew. And yet did she not bind her tongue thus to the behaviour for want of abilities to discourse, or matter to discourse of. For she was of great intellectual accom­plishments, and those improved by much secular learning, as sufficed to enable her to converse that way with persons of eminent scho­larship.

A greeably to this Government of her tongue, she was exceedingly modest, and becomingly grave in her whole behaviour; not from a­ny natural heaviness of constitution, or affectation of morose and reser­ved vertue; but from a just appre­hension how unagreeable to an ex­act strictness of Life (which she de­signed) and how unconducing to the reputation of her Sex a too sanguine conversation is often found. And that she was not cyni­cally averse to a decent and conve­nient degree of affability and cour­tesie (a vertue which was also very conspicuous in her) it appeared, in that she was wont to receive the visits of the meanest of her Neigh­bours with wonderful kindness, and converse with them with a great deal of becoming condescention: to which, as any of them appear­ed to her to savour more of godli­ness than others, she could (upon occasion) add a fit proportion of familiarity. For very careful she was to admit none into her bosom, but such as by critical observation she found to answer that character [Page 106] of worth by which she first valued her self, and then chose her inti­mates, not Greatness but Good­ness.

Her Courtesie, as I have intimated, she extended to all sorts of per­sons; even to those whom we com­monly brow-beat, and look down upon with a supercilious loftiness of countenance (those, I mean, whose necessities made them petiti­oners to her bounty) for even those she treated with great affability. So that what was said once of Ti­tus the Roman Emperor, was true Sucton. in Tito. of her, Neminem a se tristem dimi­sit, that no person departed out of her presence discontented. Yea, even those whom she denied her Alms (and some persons in want are not meet objects for a discreet charity) she would so handsomly reprove for not using their abili­ties of body to get more credita­ble Bread, that they seemed no less satisfied in her Counsel, than they would have been whith her Alms.

Her inviting countenance did so embolden the Poor to implore her [Page 107] Patronage, her compassionate heart rendred her so sensible of their con­ditions, and her prudence so ena­bled her to manage their Causes, that as she was most frequently im­ployed in many of their important addresses to several of her Relati­ons upon whom they depended; so she followed their suits in such a manner, that most an-end she pro­ved successful, as meeting with such a blessing of God upon her charitable endeavours, as the ju­stice of the causes in which she en­gaged might warrant her to ex­pect.

Yea, her very Servants had a share in the obligingness of her con­versation. For though she well understood her own Quality, and could keep them at conveni­ent distance, yet she attempered her carriage, even to them, with so much mildness, that she was never observed to drop an hasty or pas­sionate expression to any of them, though much provoked thereunto.

Of so innocent a deportment she was (even from a child) that one of capacity enough to observe, and [Page 108] integrity enough to vindicate the relation from the least suspicion of flattery, gives her this character that during ten years abode in her Mothers Family, she could never ob­serve any intemperate word or acti­on; or any thing, which if all the world had been acquainted with, would have in the least tended to her just diminution or disparage­ment.

She much studied the gratifying the Tempers, and contenting the dispositions and propensions of those she conversed with, in all lawful waies: insomuch, that she hath been often observed to deny her self for the plea­sing of others, according to that A­postolical Rule, Rom. 15. 2. And this disposition rendred her, even in matters of Argument, which (as I told you before) she wanted not ability to manage, not obstinately tenacious of her own opinion, but obligingly compliant to the Judg­ment of others, where the consci­ence of duty required not the con­trary; that thereby she might ren­der her self, offensive to none, but [Page 109] as far as might be, profitable to all. A quality thus, the more observa­ble, because not ordinary in others, who being owners of great parts, commonly affect a dictatorship in discourse. So true is it, that

Qui volet Ingenio cedere, rarus erit! These qualities rendered her of an excellent composure for a friend. And accordingly, an excellent friend she was. She did not (as was before noted) rashly admit any to the honour of her bosom acquain­tance; but when once she had lodged any persons there, she was candidly free and open in commu­nicating what her Judgment (which was alwaies riper than her years) suggested to be most for the advan­tage of their particular soul-con­cerns, advice, comfort, or reproof. For which last, she alwaies reser­ved a liberty even towards her choicest and most intimate friends; (and most indeed towards them) but managed it, constantly, with abundance of winning meekness and tenderness. And so severely con­scientious was she in the discharge of this friendly office, (for such in­deed [Page 110] it is, whatever men ordinari­ly think of it, and the neglect of it, where it needs, an act of ha­tred, Levit. 19. 17.) that having frequent occasions to receive visits from, and return them to persons of her acquaintance, that made the reverend names of [Jesus! and Lord!] interjections in their ordina­ry discourse (a thing which to me seems too near of kin to that taking the name of God in vain, which the very letter of the third Com­mandment forbids) that she made it a Case of Conscience, whether she did not highly neglect her duty in not reproving them.

And that she might not appear more rigidly to others in this kind, than she was to her self, her own life was a comment upon the Apo­stles [...], Eph. 5. 15. so exactly she walked, that she took care to avoid not only what she condemned, but what she did but suspect in others conversation. Insomuch, that her conscience would not permit her to pardon her self, what her charity taught her to indulge in others.

And indeed, she was alwaies of a very nice and delicate consci­ence, sensible of the smallest and lightest sin, or but probable appea­rance of it. The skin of that Sy­barite whom Seneca mentions, De Ira lib. 2. who complained he was sorely hurt with lying upon doubled rose leaves, was not more tender than her conscience was. Of which (though out of place) take these two Instances of many that might be given, that she was known once in her younger years to address her self to her Governess with tears, intreating her pardon for that in her very child-hood she was consci­ous she had been defective in affe­ction to her, for she thought, that then she did not love her. A fault (I doubt) which others that are far more guilty of it, are less troubled for. Another time in her maturer Age, when she had mildly enough threatned a child over whom she had some inspection committed to her, that if she did not such a thing she would not love her; she presently recalled that as an hard word, saying, Alas! God deals [Page 112] not so with us, notwithstanding our continual disobediences.

But, to return (whence we di­gressed) to her character as an ac­complished Friend. One eminent property of true friendship was ve­ry conspicuous in her; (and the more, considering what is com­monly imputed to her Sex) that she was most careful to lock up her friends secrets in her own breast, and to conceal their insirmities. Those whom upon a Christian ac­count she made her friends, she loved very affectionately, or (in the Apostles phrase rather) with a pure heart, and [...], with the utmost stress of zealous fervency; nor could she endure to be accounted tepid and indifferent in her love towards them.

And yet in all this ardency of true affection she still observed her constant wont of being sparing in verbal expressions of the esteem and value she had for her friends; and that, out of scruple, lest she should incur the danger of flatter­ing them, or at least seeming to do so. Yea, she was wont (sorely [Page 113] against her natural genius and dis­position) sometimes to curb and restrain the over-flowing kindness of her carriage and deportment, out of a consciencious fear, lest she should thereby gain the ap­plause of others; being more afraid to be too well spoken of, than most persons are of deserving to hear ill.

As a friend, she observed, that exchange of kindness is the fewel that feeds the flame of mutual affe­ction, and keeps it from burning dimly or going out, and therefore was a great nourisher of gratitude; accounting it the greatest solcism in friendship, to be suspicious in receiving, or parsimonious in re­turning kindness. And therefore what of this nature she received, she would not (though sometimes possibly there were probable ground so to do) interpret amiss, as professing she abhorred the suspici­on of a design in kindness, as the bane of gratitude. And in her returns, she was alwaies nobly obliging, as studying rather to stand in her friends Books a Creditor than a Debtor.

I mentioned her Devotion be­fore, as an early blossom. But I must tell you now, that it had not the usual fate of such precocious blossoms, to be blasted and drop off before it arrived at maturity. For as she grew in years, she grew also in acquaintance and communion with God, and kept a constant correspondence, and intelligence with the Court of Heaven. Which Heavenly Trade she followed so close, that her Lady-Mother, whiles she was under her Government, observing how she laboured at it more than her constitution of body would well bear; and being afraid, lest by overstraining the bow to reach the mark she aimed at, she would endanger the breaking it; once in a friendly manner told her, that if she intended to hold on that course, she was not fit to live in this world. To which the humble La­dy (reflecting probably upon her self that Term of unfitness to live, in another notion than it was meant) answered with much meekness, No, indeed, Madam, I confess, I am not.

After she was married, she aba­ted not of her Devotion; and thereby rendred her self a singu­lar instance of exception, to the difference the Apostle puts be­tween a Wife and a Virgin, (and which Romanists make so much use of to advance a vowed Virginity, an invention of theirs, above mar­riage, an institution of God) 1 Cor. 7. 34. you may the better judge of her Devotions by the proporti­on of time which she assigned them every day. I am credibly informed that her constant retirements to that purpose were proportionably to Daniels, thrice a day, Dan. 6. 10. And, since the decease of her precious Sister-in-Law (whose Dr. Lang­ham's Wife. great worth deserves a far more honourable remembrance, than up­on this occasional mention can be allowed) dying some weeks be­fore her; (as if she had taken the Al­larm to prepare for her own disso­lution shortly to follow from that providence) she more than doubled that proportion even to Davids seven times a day, Ps. 119. 164.

In mentioning her Devotions. I mean not only secret prayer and meditation, but also constant read­ing and study of the Scriptures, which was alwaies a considerable part of the employment that filled up her daily hours of retirement; together with something or other of the writings of some learned practical Divines, with which her Closet was well furnished. I might reckon also as a part of her daily task, the reading over one Sermon a day, most daies, out of her note­books, (for she constantly pen'd the Sermons she heard) and I could wish that other great Sermon wri­ters, would herein follow her ex­ample, and not turn their notes to wast-paper so soon as they filled their books, as 'tis to be feared too many do. By which practise of hers, (learned from the mention of the like in the Life of the Young Lord Harrington) by frequent in­culcation, she fixed in her memory all that she had heard, and had it in a readiness for the direction of her conversation, when ever she had need to make use of it.

And now, it is possible that some persons that knew her not, upon the mention of so great a daily task of Closet Religion (compa­ring her with other Ladies of that Quality) may be sollicitous to know, what time she could allow for the trimming and adorning her Body; or, it may be, may suspect her to have been some strange de­formed Piece, who being fallen out with her Glass, for telling too much truth, had neglected all care of auxiliary handsomness as meer lost labour; and addicted her self to the beautifying of her Soul, out of despair of ever rendring her bodie tolerably handsome or beautiful. To satisfie therefore all those who, may be concerned in this matter, I must tell them, that, as her Per­son was such, as to a middle and decent Pitch, and just proportion of all Parts, wanted not a Face, whose amiable lineaments might by the ordinary Artifices of that kind, have been advanced to the Repu­tation of a Beauty, had she thought fit to have made use of them: So she neglected not to bestow upon [Page 118] it so much time and pains, after the necessary occasions of her Soul, first attended, as decency required, though possibly not so much as Curiosity (had she studied it) would have called for. And so much shall suffice for this digression.

To this proportion of constant Devotion which she cut her self out for every day, if you add her great care to fill up all the rest of her time, with profitable converse, you cannot but look upon her as a great Instance of that command, Eph. 5. 16. So did she [...], buy Time out (as the word signifies) of the hands of those wa­sters of precious minutes, which are apt, where they are not observed, to forestall the Market, and buy it up all even from the most religious employments; I mean, Pastimes, and Recreations. Whence it was, that (though she did not rigidly censure the liberty taken by others in that kind as absolutely, and in its own nature unlawful; yet) she never allowed her self to see any Masque, Enterlude, or Play, or to play at Cards or the like Games; [Page 119] meerly, because she doubted whe­ther the expence of so much time, as commonly such diversions require, would be allowed upon her account, or no. Much, herein, of a diffe­rent temper from those great Per­sons, whose Time so lies on their hands, as a dead Commodity, that they study all waies possible to put it off, because they know not what profitableuse to put it unto. A pro­digallity, which how much cause they have to repent of, they may possibly understand, when upon their death-beds they find the want of those precious minutes for more serious uses, which they have so lavishly thrown away. In the mean time, to the Apostolical command (but now mentioned) I would en­treat them to add in their serious meditations, the commendable re­solve of that Heathen, who purpo­sed Nemo ullum aufer at Diem, nihil dignam tanto impendio redditurus, Sen. de Tranq. to allow a whole day to no con­verse, that would not make him a­mends for the precious Time expen­ded in it.

But, to return again to our ex­cellent Personage, whom we left pursuing her daily design of ac­quainting [Page 120] her self with God in her set hours of devotion, accounting it (as she said) a singular mercy that the great God of Heaven and earth would vouchsafe his Creatures such plentiful discoveries of himself, both in the books of Nature and Providence; and beyond both those in his written Word. And there­fore she prized them all, but espe­cially the last, with an infinite af­fection; insomuch that she often rose early in the morning to read and meditate thereon: nor would she, when she was engaged in that holy work, suffer any interrupti­ons how necessary soever, without evident signs of trouble & discom­posure, till she returned to her be­loved Bible again. Yea, towards the Book it self, for love of the ex­cellent matter contained in it, she expressed such a respect, that she resented with a pious displeasure, any undecent usage of it, or care­less throwing it among ordinary Books.

Now, though she had a singu­lar value for every part of the holy Bible, yet there was one part of it, [Page 121] the Book of Psalms, which she seemed to be most passionately in love withall; Perhaps, because (similitude being the ground of Love, according to the great Phi­losopher) she found so much a­greement Arist: Eth: 8: betwixt her own heart, and the spirit of that Book. This affection she shewed by reading, or causing to be read, one or more of them constantly at her hour of re­pose in the evening, which by me­ditation and discourse she was wont to improve to her own be­nefit and theirs who were about her. And in her bed, she was wont to lock up her lips till morning with the repetition of some one that she had by heart, to which, having added some devout ejaculations with wonderful fervency, she u­sually dropped asleep in some holy extasie of Devotion. And as she shut up her lips and heart too in this manner at night, so she con­stantly opened them again in the morning with the same golden Key. So that her sleep seemed to be but a Parenthesis betwixt her evening and morning Devotions, which dis­continued [Page 122] indeed, but not disor­dered them; yea, rather connexed and united them into one entire piece, of which (it is probable) her very sleeping Phantasie, by holy Dreams, made a part; seeing it was next to impossible, that even they, being hedged in between two such immediate acts of Devotion, should not receive a proportionable tincture from them.

These her set Devotions, 'tis likely, she methodized most com­monly according to her own dis­cretion; but yet, she did not so tie up her self to the order of her own designment, as not to leave her self a liberty upon any extraordinary occasion, to vary as that occasion required. Which appears, in that upon the solemn great Festivals, at least, observed in this Church, she would accommodate them to those seasons respectively. A course, which I am a little jealous, may, from some persons perhaps, under­go a censure, as if it savoured somewhat of superstition. But, as she feared not that censure in the practise, as finding that benefit [Page 223] thereby, which abundantly weigh­ed down that scar-crow in her own consideration: so do not I fear it in the relation, as being perswaded that it may be of use to some one or other, who may be thereby in­duced to take up the same course with the same advantage.

For, whereas those grand Arti­cles of Religion, the Incarnation, Death, Resurrection and Ascension of our Saviour, have (each of them) a signal use and influence towards the improvement both of Faith, and Holiness if particularly studi­ed and applyed, yea, and the re­curring of those Festivals, where­in they are by publick order com­memorated, affords a special op­portunity thereunto, by giving us a particular remembrance of them; it stands with Reason, that the ta­king hold of such opportunities when offered, and accommodating our private readings, meditations and prayers to them, should yield us the particular advantage before mentioned; which possibly, in a like measure at least, we might not reap otherwise. For experience [Page 124] shews, that those signal mercies seldom come under our particular observation, for respective im­provement, except upon those seasons for divers years together. And for this reason, I suppose, or the like (of no affinity to supersti­tion at all, which our Lady was too knowing a Christian to be endan­gered unto in such a matter) she took up, and continued this Pra­ctise.

In her course of Life, she was precisely careful to avoid all man­ner of sin; and sollicitous in all emergencies of consequence to un­derstand her duty, that she might practise accordingly. As she made Gods Testimonies her delight, so she made them her Counsellors al­so, Ps. 119. 24. Insomuch, that she never determined any dubious occurrence without great delibera­tion, and the best advice she could procure. But especially, when she was a Wife, she made frequent use of the counsel given by the Apo­stle Paul, 1 Cor. 14. 35. when she de­sired to learn any thing, to ask her Husband. And herein was she sin­gularly [Page 125] happy, in being directed by Providence to such an Husband as abundantly answered that cha­racter of another Apostle, dwelling (and conversing with her) as a man of knowledge, 1 Pet. 3. 7. One, who as he was able (richly able) to maintain, so was he no less pro­pense to entertain such a converse, especially with so near a friend as the Wife of his bosom, upon any oc­casion. So that herein (besides the advantages hereby reaped to her self) she highly gratified him, by affording him the opportunities of an employment so acceptable to his own Genius and dispo­sition; and withall practised the advice given her upon her Mar­riage by her prudent Lady-Mother to make her self fit conversation (so she expressed it) for her Husband. A notable Instance whereof may be; that if, at any time, in her so­litary discourses with him of this nature (with which kind of con­verse she was much delighted) there had happened a cessation on both hands for a little while, she would presently be apprehensive [Page 126] of the loss, and desire him not to let her time pass unimproved, but either to renew the conference, or read some good Book to her.

And yet, (so greedy she was of improving her self by all good means) she did not make this ad­vantage of him alone; but con­stantly attended the publick Ordi­nances, from a due respect unto which she was too weighty a Chri­stian to be blown away by the pi­tiful prejudices of these times; as too many are, to the unsufferable affronting of Gods goodness, who vouchsafes them to us, and (it is to be feared) too often, to the forsa­king their own mercy, the parti­cular benefit they might reap from them. And that she might make the utmost improvement of Gods Ministers, whose lips God hath ap­pointed to keep knowledge, she would according to his command (in private conference, as well as publick Ordinances when occasion was offered) seek it at their mouths, Mal. 2. 7. An Instance whereof of special remark, may be, that, when She met with any Divines of note [Page 127] at her Father-in-Law's Sir JOHN LANGHAMS Table, with whom after her marriage till her death She resided (and that plentiful Table was seldome without some such guests of special eminency) She would request her Husband to of­fer such discourse, as might give the company the benefit of their presence and converse; professing that she judged it altogether absurd and incongruous to Reason, as well as Religion, that Physitians and Lawyers should be so ordinarily entertained with discourses proper to their respective Faculties; and Divines only treated without the verge of their Profession, with mat­ters altogether heterogeneous and eccentrical to the sphere of their holy Function.

Such, as you have heard, was her devotion towards God. And She had as well learned her duty to her Neighbour, which She evidenced in every Relation and Capacity.

When by her Marriage She was to be transplanted into her Hus­bands Family, her Lady-Mother failed not to give her those In­structions, [Page 128] which as Maxims of du­ty She constantly practised in a just proportion to all her Relations. And accordingly,

The first place in her Affection, She bestowed upon her Husband, whom She so loved, that She pro­fessed she could even die for him. This her Love She shewed in an e­minent degree of dutiful compli­ance with whatever she observed to be agreeable to him. For she ne­ver received the least intimation of his pleasure, though delivered in a way of request, but it had with her the force of a Command; with which (waving her own opinion, in case of difference from his) she alwaies respectfully comported. Insomuch, that no Instances of conjugal happiness in others, ever minded him of any deficiency in his own; but rather produced a greater complacency in his so great felicity, whiles he found himself happy in his own choice, beyond the most eminent examples.

And, as her Love and dutiful Carriage, so also her Learning rendred her an Help meet for him, [Page 129] as being thereby made capable of conversing with him, both in points of Divinity and Humanity, very knowingly and judiciously, and that in more Languages than one; being able to make use of Learned Authors in other Tongues, without the help of a Translation. As for Latine, that learnedest piece of Peter Martyr, (his Common-places) she frequently had recourse unto. For French she was intimately ac­quainted with the works of (that Prodigy of Learning and Language) M. du-Moulin, out of whose Buck­ler of Faith. she was both enabled to defend her own Protestant Faith and (as she had occasion to con­verse with any Ladies of the Ro­mish communion) to assault and overthrow theirs. And, for Italian shee could make as good an advan­tage of what Learning that Lan­guage affords.

And yet (which in an accom­plishment wherein she so much ex­ceeded the rest of her Sex, in so much the more remarkable) was shee not hereby elevated. That [...], or swelling conceitedness, [Page 130] (which the Apostle tells us too of­ten fly-blows eminent Gifts, 1 Cor. 8. 1. and is the very bane of these times) shee was not tainted withal, so that her Husband was perfectly unacquainted with all those incon­veniences which some have fanci­ed do necessarily accompany a learned Wife. For to him, even herein, She alwaies would strike sail, as to her Lord and Head; ma­king use of her own knowledge on­ly to capacitate her to make the best improvement of his; of whom She would (as one that with her other learning, had learned her Duty from the Apostle) [...], receive instruction in all submissive silence, or quietness.

To her Lady-Mother, She did not forget her Duty in the least, no not when her married estate had manumitted her from her Govern­ment; but, allowing her still the next place in her affection, and re­spects to her Husband, so demean­ed her self towards her, that She esteemed her not only a very du­tiful and deserving Daughter, but (as her own Phrase was) an excel­lent [Page 131] Friend also. To her Father­in-Law, she payed the same Duty (according to the particular dire­ctions, which she received from her at her marriage) which she perfor­med to her Lady-Mother; as consi­dering, that where the Ordinance of God makes two persons one flesh, it makes a proportionable u­nion to their respective natural Relations too; they being but Re­liquiae carnis nostrae, the remain­ders of every ones own flesh in o­ther bodies: as both Arias Monta­nus, and our own Margin from [...] him, render, those words by which nearness of kin is expressed, Le­vit. 18. 5.

To the memory of her predeces­sor in that Relation she bore to Sir James Langham, she testified (con­trary to what is usual in such ca­ses) a very signal respect, enquiring with some earnestness after her special vertues, which she designed for her own Imitation, and giving the good she heard of her, a just commendation.

To the children that Sir James had by that Lady (providence de­nying [Page 132] him any by this, evcept one in expectation, to whom the death of the mother rendred the womb a grave) she was in care and tender­ness so much more than a Mother­in-Law, that it was impossible for any, but those that knew other­wise, not to have mistaken her for their natural Parent; and if, with them, she had had any of her own body, I believe she could hardly have told how to have rendred her love to her natural issue (in any considerable indication) more Em­phatical. So sollicitously did She interest her self both in education of, and provision for them; and so concern her self in their behalf, in all occasions of never so little bo­dily distemper; that She deserved thereby to have rendred, even No­verca, a name of honour, by being such a Mother-in-Law, from whom even natural Mothers themselves, might not disdain to receive a Law of kindness towards the children of their own bodies.

From her Daughter of about 11 years of Age, She exacted con­stantly a repetition (by heart) of [Page 133] the Sermons she heard; for which Task She had by her Instructions so logically methodized theme mo­ry of that so young a child, that She was able to Analize a discourse of 30 or 40 particular heads memo­riter, with the most remarkable enlargments upon them.

This care of her children She not only continued during her health, but even in her sickness al­so She influenced that that others took of them, so far as her weakness would permit. And to to shew that She minded them as long as She minded any thing in this world, even upon her dying bed She re­quested her Husband (though he needed not any such spur to quick­en him in his Duty) to breed them up in the exercises of severe Godli­ness, and to see them taught such Evidences of salvation, as might be supports to them one day in their dying Agonies.

To her Servants, She demeaned her self so mildly (as I before told you) as if they had not been so properly Servants, as humiles ami­ci, (in the Moralists phrase) a sort [Page 134] of inferiour friends. Which carri­age won her from them a great deal of aw-ful Love, and heart­service, instead of eie-service, the common vice of those in that Re­lation. She took care even of the meanest of them, not only for their bodies, but their Souls also: cal­ling them that were more immedi­ately under her inspection (her Maidens) to account (in scriptis if they could write) for the Ser­mons they heard, and helping their deficiencies from her own exacter notes. She would call upon them in the morning (as her phrase was) to go to God, i. e. to wait upon him in their morning Devotions, before they waited on her. And if (for She would examine them con­cerning it) any one of them confes­sed, or by silence bewrayed a neg­lect therein, She would dismiss her immediately to that work from her present attendance, not without some reprehension withall, for gi­ving her service the precedency of Gods. And this care She took (as She would frequently express her self to her Husband) from a deep [Page 135] conviction of this truth, that Go­vernors of Families, are accounta­ble to God for the Soul of the mean­est under their inspection. A course which (as far as She could bear it, She continued even in her last sick­ness, for when the importunities of her own bodily distempers kept any of them from Church to attend her necessities at home on Gods day, She would tell them, that nothing but an absolute necessity should have been reason sufficient for her de­taining them about her. But yet, (would She say) your minds are at liberty; let God have as much wor­ship as you can give him: lift up your hearts, lift up your hearts and remember 'tis the Sabbath.

An example, this, very fit to be followed by others of her Sex, and Quality; yea, it were well, if those that are much inferiour to her both in Birth and breeding, would learn so much Religion from her, as to consider that their Servants have Souls as well as themselves; and Souls, that require some time to trim and dress them, as well as their Ladies and mi­stresses [Page 136] bodies. And that those per­sons will surely give but a poor ac­count one day of their Servants souls, whose tedious dressings spend the greatest part of every day, (not excepting Gods Day it self) and will not allow their Mai­dens a minutes privacy, to lift up a short prayer in secret, where­with to sanctifie the employments of the day.

Nor did She extend this care towards her Servants, only whiles they continued with her, but en­larged it even to those that de­parted from her. An Instance whereof may be, That when a mean servant came to take leave of her, She gave her (together with some other expressions of her charity and kindness) much good counsel, and desired her Husband to add something to her favours too, but above all to dismiss her with a second largess of good Ad­vice.

To the Poor, She was hugely charitable; sometimes not stay­ing till they expressed their own wants, but pressing out of them [Page 137] those complaints, which their mo­desty would have suppressed, by her own enquiries into their condi­tions, that She might know where­in She might be beneficial to them. And when She had information of any wants above an ordinary cha­rity, She was even sollicitous how to procure a proportionable relief for the parties concerned, nor was She charitable to the bodies only of those whom She relieved, for She gave to most (but to those e­specially, whose great exigences (in probability) rendred them more capable and inclinable to fol­low it) the double Alms of her bounty and counsel together; which last (though the other were not mean neither) was constantly the best of the two.

A thousand Instances of her great Charity in this kind, have e­scaped the observation of any, but those only that received it; (She being in acts of this nature con­tented with the notice of God and Conscience) so that our Saviours Rule in this, was hers, not to let her left hand know what her right hand [Page 138] did, Mat. 6. 3. And yet, to Gods glory, and her own deserved com­mendation, those good deeds of this nature, which She studiously (to avoid what She alwaies abhor­red, the very appearance of vain­glory) concealed in her life time, in a great measure came to light after her death, as appeared in the passionate resentments of great crowds of poor people, who (as is usual in such cases) thronging to obtain a sight of her Herse whiles exposed to view, declared that, not so much their curiosity as affection drew them thither, by the bitter lamentations and tears wherewith they bewailed her death (as the Widdows did Dorcas, Acts 9. 39.) as their common and irreparable loss.

In this her bounty, partly, out of her great fear (as I told you be­fore) to be too well thought of, if others knew the proportions of it; and partly, that She might be the more assured that it was not diver­ted from the right channel, She commonly trusted no hands but her own: making it her care before [Page 139] She went out of doors at any time, to furnish her Poor-mans Purse, with such monies, as were most convenient to be distributed and divided among those necessitous people, which providence before She returned, might cast in her way.

One special passage I must not o­mit, under this Head of Charity; though it only so far concern her, as it expresseth her judgment in the choice of fit subjects to lay it forth upon. She was once told of the prodigious bounty of some of her Ancestors towards Religious pla­ces and Persons, and particularly, upon young students in the Ʋniver­sities. This last sort of charity as soon as mentioned, She especially applauded, thus expressing her thoughts of it. Indeed, said She, it is the best Charity to promote the good of souls, and in that respect it is a much nobler bounty, to be the means of consecrating the life of one, than relieving the age and infirmities of twenty.

Let me close up this Section, with the averseness she expressed [Page 140] to (the great bane of Love and cha­rity) Tale-bearing, for which she constantly had a high degree of detestation, She alwaies suspect­ed a passionate Accuser, as com­monly more faulty, than the party accused; it being the usual arti­fice of malice, to endeavour the concealing its own guilt, by stop­ping the ears of Justice with a pre­judicate opinion against those from whom it fears a recrimination. And in all differences of this na­ture, which came under her cog­nizance, she constantly used this healing method, first, to allay the acrimony of the contending spirits, and then to accommodate the dif­ference it self.

In a word, her Charity in all points answered the Character which the great Apostle gives of that Heavenly Grace, 1 Cor. 13. which to read, is to comprise the whole History of her Life in a nutshel, a short Abstract or Epito­me. Read it here if you please, and accommodate the several parts of it to my former Relation. Charity, (and such was hers) suffereth long [Page 141] and is kind, envieth not, vaunteth not it self, is not puffed up, doth not behave it self unseemly, seek­eth not her own, is not easily pro­voked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the Truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, en­dureth all things, v. 4, 5, 6, 7.

And now, to so eminent a pro­gress in all manner of perfections, there could hardly be made any accession in this world; so that it was high time for her to be tran­splanted from hence to the society of the spirits made perfect in ano­ther. And God (whose wont it is Heb: 12: 23: to gather his fruit when it is fully ripe) having thus made her meet for the inheritance of the Saints in Col: 1: 12: light, accordingly, thought fit on March 28. 1664. to translate her thither. Her sickness, of which she dyed, surprised her tanquam ex insidiis, being the small Pocks disguised under the reliques of a Feaver (to appearance) almost per­fectly profligated. Such a surprize of death in the very borders and confines of expected health, had [Page 142] been sufficient to have discompo­sed any soul, and ruffled it into disorder, but such an one as hers; which kept alwaies so good a guard, that no event could befall her for which she was not provi­ded.

During that twilight of hopes and fears, which sometimes held both her Physitians and Relations, in suspence concerning her; she alwaies seemed in her own inclina­tions to propend to Saint Pauls choice, Phil. 1. 23. having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ: begging of her dear Husband, who was (as he had great cause) humb­ly importunate with God for a longer enjoyment of her; that he would not pray for her life, but for her soul, and that God would make her fit to die; or if he plea­sed to gratifie the desires of those who so affectionately wished her re­covery, that he would so sanctifie his hand unto her, that she might obtain grace to pay her vows. Indeed her great aim and design, was to 2 Cor. 7. 1. perfect holiness in the fear of God; and her great request for her self in [Page 143] midst of her feverish Paroxysms, was, that by that burning heat (as she said) she might be purified and refined. Conformable hereunto, was that Request of hers, taken notice of in a former sickness, which fell out a year before her Marriage, which she expressed with a most pathetical vehemen­cy, O that I could do the whole will of God!

At other times of this her last weakness, when her Husband praying by her prosecuted with earnestness his constant Request, for her recovery to health, and a longer life; she would, after the duty, kindly chide the exuberancy of his affection; & desire him to rest content in Gods Promise, that all things should work together for his good, Rom. 8. 28. and to submit (as she wholy did) to his soveraign Lugeatur mor­tuus; sed ille quem gehenna suscipit quem Tartarus devo­rat, &c. Hier. will: telling him withall, that he had no reason to give the reins to his sorrow, if he saw her die with good evidences of her going to Heaven. And to allay his pas­sion in his greatest dreads of that separation, which he so much de­precated, [Page 144] We came not (said she) into the world together, nor can we expect to go out of it together; yet it is a great satisfaction to me that I am going thither, whither you, after a while, shall follow me. And somewhat inquisitive she was (probably in order to the advance­ment of that satisfaction) what de­grees of Communion the Saints glo­rified have one with another, and what measure of knowledge they have of each other? A question, which is often asked by gracious souls; but (in my judgment) im­possible to be resolved from clear grounds of Scripture, the Argu­ment on both sides being alike pro­bable. And it need not create any trouble to us, if it remain in the dark. It is but a little while, ere comfortable experience will decide the controversie to all that wait for the coming of the Lord Jesus, beyond all our uncertain di­sputes.

She was very sollicitous during her whole sickness, of her cariage and deportment under Gods afflict­ing hand; and afraid lest the rest­lessnesses [Page 145] occasioned by her distem­per, might be the fruit of her im­patience. To which purpose, she would oftentimes, (with an holy self-jealousie) ask of those about her, Whether she did not seem to them to be deficient in Patience? and would seem to be troubled at the remembrance of the carriage of such and such Christian friends, whom she had conversed with on their sick beds, as conscious to her self how short she came of them.

Some Conflicts she had with Temptation (if I may so call it, and not rather the exceeding tender­ness of her own Conscience, apt to smite her (as Davids did for cut­ting off but the skirt of Sauls Robe, 1 Sam. 24. 5.) for the smallest o­missions, of which yet those that knew the strictness of her walking with God, thought she had little cause to complain.) And yet those very complaints, in the nature of them, argued a very great profici­ency in holiness; witness one a­mongst the rest especially, viz. that she had not been so sensible, as [Page 146] she ought to have been of the estate and condition of Gods Church; a thing which surely most of us may more justly charge on our selves (considering the Havock at this day made in it by the Eastern Wild-bore out of the Forrest; and Ps. 80. 13. Cant. 2. 15. the little Foxes out of their holes, Romish Emissaries in several dis­guises spoiling its tender grapes) but that we do not (with her) pre­fer Jerusalem above our chief Ps. 137. 6. joy.

But these were but thin and light clouds, quickly scattered, the light of Gods countenance breaking through them, and clear­ing up hers. So that she told one of her visitants, with a great deal of comfort, that she thanked God, that instead of a world full of troubles and miseries, he had now given her the sight of a better Coun­try. And this prospect, together with the clearing up of her Title to it, (a thing which in her health she expressed a great sollicitous­ness for, insomuch that she hath been heard to say with some Em­phasis of zealous earnestness, Who, [Page 147] being once assured of the pardon of sins, would not be willing to die the next hour?) made her, now she had attained it, so willing to Luk. 23. 46. 2 Tim. 1. 13. 2 Cor. 5. 1. resign her soul into the hands of God, as knowing whom she had trusted: and lay down her earthly Tabernacle, in exchange for that House made without hands, eternal in the Heavens.

And thus fell, what was mortal of this precious Saint, to her own infinite gain, but to the inexpres­sible loss of all her surviving friends and acquaintance, but e­specially her dear Relations. Who (notwithstanding, I hope) will consider, that, seeing the WILL OF THE LORD IS DONE, it becomes them to acquiesce in it. It was (as I am informed) her counsel to her tenderly loving and affectionate Husband, in her health, to take heed of over-loving her, bidding him beware of it, as he desired not to be rid of of her: for God would endure no Rival. I hope (though, withal, I confess it a difficult piece of self-denial not to over-love a Wife so over-deser­ving; [Page 148] and so strong a temptation may very well excuse and lessen an offence of that nature) that wor­thy person to whom that caution was given, had alwaies so much of the Christian, as might balance the Husband in him; and preserve him from ever rivalling his Maker. But, however let me presume to remem­ber De non nostro amissum dole­mus. Cum alie num amissum aegre sustine­mus, affines cu­piditatis inve­nimur, Tert. de Pat. him, that this may be done ex post facto, by over-grieving, when God hath taken away such a com­fort. As no doubt Phaltiel was Da­vids Rival, not only whiles he en­joyed his Wife Michal; but also, when she was sent for from him, in that he accompanied her, as far as he dared, weeping, 2 Sam. 3. 16.

And let all her other Relations consider, that, the more vertuous she was, and the more any way qualifi­ed to be a comfort to them here; the fitter was she to yield them the opportunity of offering the com­pleater sacrifice of self-denial and holy Resignation, by giving her to God; for whom nothing can be too good, seeing we can have no­thing so good as he deserves, who is the Author of all good, yea, is [Page 149] himself all good, and alsufficiently so, to us. Let them consider, how ripe she was for Heaven, and then they cannot but connclude it had been to her loss to have been lon­ger detained from it: as it is to the choicest fruit to hang on the Tree beyond due maturity. And this very consideration (if any of them were not sufficiently prepared for this loss before-hand) ought to have had the force of a presage, to fortifie them against this Event: seeing it could not (in reason) be expected, that a Life so thick packed and crowded with Vertue and Grace, should be long: her living so much in a little time (by that common Rule, celerius occide­re festinatam maturitatem, that o­ver-hastened Quintil. Inst. fruit is the first that falls) was a kind of ominous inti­mation that she had not long to live; and that riding such Post­hast towards Heaven, she would not be long thence. However, now Gods will is done, let our hearty assent thereunto, shew us Christians; our rejoicing in her hap­piness, her friends; and our imi­tation [Page 150] of her excellent perfections, true honourers of her memory; who is gone before us to that bliss, to which (I think, we may all safely say) the Lond in due time bring us all for Christs sake. Amen.