If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. P. 1. 31. 64. 97.
Christianity the last and most correct edition of the law of nature: every precept of it may be resolved into a natural reason; as advancing and improving nature in the higher degrees and grander concerns of it. Christianity takes care for man, not only in his religious capacity, but also in his civil and political, binding the bonds of government faster, by the happy provisions of peace, 1.
I. The shewing what is implied in the duty here enjoined.
II. What are the measures and proportions by which it is to be determined.
III. What are the means by which it is to be determined.
IV. What the motives by which it may be enforced.
I. The duty here enjoined is, live peaceably; which may be taken,
1. For the actual enjoyment of peace with all men: and so he only lives peaceably, whom no man molests. But this cannot be the sense intended here, (1.) Because so to live peaceably is impossible, 1. From the contentious, unreasonable humour of many men, 2. 2. From the contrary and inconsistent interests of many men, 5. (2.) Because, though it were not impossible, it can be no man’s duty, 6.
For a peaceable behaviour towards all men; which is the
1. A forbearance of all hostile actions; and that in a double respect. (1.) In a way of prevention, 8. (2.) Of retaliation, 10.
2. A forbearance of injurious, provoking words, 13.
II. The measures and proportions by which it is to be determined are expressed in these words: if it be possible, 15.
Now possible may be taken two ways: 1. As it is opposed to naturally impossible, and that which cannot be done, 15. 2. As opposed to morally impossible, and that which cannot be done lawfully, 15.
But the observance of peace being limited by the measure of lawful, all inquiries concerning the breaking of it are reducible to these two:
1. Whether it be at all lawful.
2. Supposing it lawful, when and where it ought to be judged so.
Under the first is discussed that great question, whether war can be lawful for Christians, 17.
War is of two distinct kinds. 1. Defensive, in order to keep off and repel an evil designed to the public. 2. Offensive, for revenging a public injury done to a community. And it is allowable upon the strength of these arguments:
(1.) As it (the defensive) is properly an act of self-preservation, 17.
(2.) As it (the offensive) is a proper act of distributive justice, 19.
(3.) Because St. John the Baptist, Christ himself, and the apostles, judged the employment of a soldier lawful, 21.
The ground of the Socinians’ arguments in this case, viz. that
God, under the Mosaical covenant, promised only temporal possessions to his people,
therefore war was lawful to them; but now, under the covenant of grace through Christ,
has made no promise of temporal enjoyments, but on the contrary bids us to despise
them, and therefore has
The scriptures produced by those who abet the utter unlawfulness of war examined and explained. As,
I.
II.
III.
IV.
Under the second inquiry, supposing it lawful, when and where it ought to be judged so?
First, some general grounds, that may authorize war, are laid down. As when those with whom we are at peace,
1. Declare that they will annoy us, unless we cut off our limbs, &c. and upon our refusal disturb us, 37.
2. Declare war with us, unless we will renounce our religion, 37.
3. Injure us to that degree as a nation, as to blast our honour and reputation, 38.
4. Declare war with us, unless we will quit our civil rights, 38.
Secondly, some particular cases are resolved; as,
First case. Whether it be lawful for subjects in any case to make war upon the magistrate? 39.
Grotius’s seven cases, wherein he asserts it to be lawful, 41.
David Parseus his arguments, in a set and long dispute upon
Second case. Whether it be lawful for one private man to make war upon another in those encounters which we commonly call duels? 49. And here are set down,
1. The cases in which a duel is lawful. As (1.) When two malefactors condemned to die are appointed by the magistrate to fight, upon promise of life to the conqueror, 49. (2.) When two armies are drawn out, and the decision of the battle is cast upon a single combat, 50. (3.) When one challenges another, and resolves to kill him, unless he accepts the combat, 50.
2. The cases in which duels are utterly unlawful. As
(1.) When they are undertook for vain ostentation, 52. (2.) To purge oneself from some crime objected, 53. (3.) When two agree upon a duel, for the decision of right, mutually claimed by both, agreeing that the right shall fall to the conqueror, 53. (4.) When undertaken for revenge, or some injury done, or affront passed, 54.
But other arguments there are against duels, besides their unlawfulness. As,
1. The judgment of men generally condemning them, 57.
2. The wretched consequences of the thing itself; which are twofold: (1.) Such as attend the conquered person, viz. ]. A disastrous death, 58. 2. Death eternal, 59(2.) Such as attend the conqueror. 1. In case he is apprehended, 60. 2. Supposing he escapes by flight, 61. 3. Supposing by the intercession of great friends he has outbraved justice, and triumphed over the law by a full acquitment, 62.
Third case. Whether it be lawful to repel force by force, so as to kill another in one’s own defence? 64.
If a man has no other means to escape, it is lawful upon two reasons. 1. The great natural right of self-preservation, 65. 2. From that place where Christ commands his disciples to provide themselves swords, 65. Add to this, the suffrage of the civil law, 66.
Yet so to assert the privilege as to take off the danger, it is stated under its due limitations by three inquiries.
1st, What those things are which may be thus defended; namely,
1. Life, 66. 2. Limbs, 67. 3. Chastity invaded by force, 69. 4. Estate or goods; which case admitting of some more doubt than the others, the opinions for the negative are stated and answered, 69.
Whatsoever a man may thus do for himself, the same also is lawful for him to do in the same danger and extremity of his neighbour, 73.
2dly, What are the conditions required to render such a defence lawful; which are these:
(1.) That the violence be so apparent, great, and pressing, that there can be no other means of escape, 75. (2.) That there be no possibility of recourse to a magistrate for a legal protection, 76. (3.) That a man design only his own defence, without any hatred or bitter purpose of revenge, 78.
3dly, Who are the persons against whom we may thus defend ourselves, 78.
Fourth case. Whether it be allowable for Christians to prosecute, and go to law with one another?
1. The arguments brought against it are examined, 81. Which seem
principally to bear upon two scriptures, (1.)
The arguments for the proof of the assertion are next considered. Which are,
1. That it is to endeavour the execution of justice, in the proper acts of it, between man and man, 90.
2. That if Christian religion prohibits law, observance of this religion draws after it the utter dissolution of all government, 91.
The limitations of law-contentions are three:
1. That a man takes not this course, but upon a very great and urgent cause, 93.
2. That he be willing to agree upon any tolerable and just terms, rather than to proceed to a suit, 94.
3. Supposing great cause, and no satisfaction, that he manage his suit by the rule of charity, and not of revenge, 95.
III. The means by which the duty of living peaceably is to be effected, are,
1. A suppression of all distasteful, aggravating apprehensions of any ill turn or unkind behaviour from men, 97.
2. The forbearing all pragmatical or malicious informations against those with whom we converse, 104.
3. That men would be willing in some cases to wave the prosecution of their rights, and not too rigorously to insist upon them, 112. As (1.) When the recovery of it seems impossible, 113. (2.) When it is but inconsiderable, but the recovery troublesome and contentious, 115. (3.) When a recompence is offered, 116.
4. To reflect upon the example of Christ, and the strict injunction lying upon us to follow it, 118.
5. Not to adhere too strictly to our own judgments of things doubtful in themselves, 120.
IV. The motives and arguments to enforce this duty are,
1. The excellency of the thing itself, 122.
2. The excellency of the principle from which peaceableness of spirit proceeds, 124.
3. The blessing entailed upon it by promise,
The wages of sin is death. P. 129.
A discourse of sin not superfluous, while the commission of it is continual, and yet the preventing necessary.
The design of the words prosecuted in discussing three things:
I. Shewing what sin is, 130. As it is usually divided into two sorts:
1. Original sin, 130.
2. Actual sin, 132. Which is considered two ways:
(1.) According to the subject matter of it: as, 1. The
(2.) According to the degree or measure of it: as 1. When a man is engaged in a sinful course by surprise and infirmity, 135. 2. Against the reluctancies of an awakened conscience, 136. 3. In defiance to conscience, 137.
II. Shewing, what is comprised in death, which is here allotted for the sinner’s wages. And
1. For death temporal, 138.
2. Death eternal, 140. Which has other properties besides its eternity, to increase the horror of it. As (1.) It bereaves a man of all the pleasures and comforts which he enjoyed in this world, 141. (2.) Of that inexpressible good, the beatific fruition of God, 142. (3.) As it fills both body and soul with the highest torment and anguish that can be received within a finite capacity, 143.
III. Shewing in what respect death is property called the wages of sin.
1. Because the payment of wages still presupposes service and labour, 144.
2. Because wages do always imply a merit in the work, requiring such a compensation, 147.
Now sin is a direct stroke, 1st, At God’s sovereignty, 149. 2dly, At his very being, 150.
Having thus shewn what sin is, and what death is, the certain inevitable wages of sin; he who likes the wages, let him go about the work, 151.
Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. P. 152.
It may at first seem wonderful, that there are so few men in the
world happy, when happiness is so freely offered: but this wonder vanishes upon
considering the preposterous ways of men’s acting, who passionately pursue the end,
and yet overlook the means: many perishing eternally because
I. Shewing, what it is to be pure in heart.
Purity in general cannot be better explained than by its opposition, 1. To mixture, 154. 2. To pollution, 155.
Purity in heart is shewn, (1.) By way of negation; that it does not consist in the external exercise of religion, 156. There being many other reasons for the outward piety of a man’s behaviour. As, 1. A virtuous and strict education, 157. 2. The circumstances and occasions of his life, 159. 3. The care and tenderness of his honour, 160.
(2.) Positively, wherein it does consist, viz. in an inward change and renovation of the heart, by the infusion of such a principle as naturally suits and complies with whatsoever is pure, holy, and commanded by God, 162. Which more especially manifests itself, (1.) In the purity and untainted sanctity of the thoughts, 163. (2.) In a sanctified regulation of the desires, 164. (3.) In a fearful and solicitous avoiding of every thing that may tend to sully or defile it, 166.
II. Explaining, what it is to see God.
Some disputes of the schools concerning this, 168.
Our enjoyment of God is expressed by seeing him; because the sense of seeing, (1.) Represents the object with greater clearness and evidence than any of the other senses, 170. (2.) Is most universally exercised and employed, 170. (3.) Is the sense of pleasure and delight, 171. (4.) Is the most comprehensive and insatiable, 171.
III. Shewing, how this purity fits and qualifies the soul for the sight of God; namely, by causing a suitableness between God and the soul, 172.
Now during the soul’s impurity, God is utterly unsuitable to it in a double respect.
1. Of the great unlikeness, 173. 2. Of the great contrariety there is betwixt them, 173.
IV. The brief use and application is, to correct our too great easiness and credulity in judging of the spiritual estate, either of ourselves or others. If we would prevent the judgment of God, we must imitate it, judging of ourselves as he will judge of us: for he who has outward purity only, without a thorough renovation within him, and a sanctified disposition of heart, may indeed hereafter see God, but then he is like to see him only as his judge, 174.
And they that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts. P. 178.
As all sects and institutions have their distinguishing badge, or characteristic name, that of Christianity is comprised in the crucifixion of the flesh, and the lusts thereof, 178.
This explained, by shewing,
I. What is meant by being Christ’s: it consists in accepting of, and having an interest in Christ, as he is offered and proposed in the gospel, under three offices; his prophetical, his kingly, and his sacerdotal, 179.
II. What is meant by the flesh, and the affections and lusts: by the former we are to understand the whole entire body of sin and corruption, the inbred proneness in our nature to all evil; by the latter, the drawing forth of that propensity or principle into the several commissions of sin, through the course of our lives, 180.
The text further prosecuted in shewing two things:
I. Why this vitiosity and corrupt habit of nature comes to have this denomination of flesh: and that for three reasons:
1. Because of its situation and place, which is principally in the flesh; concupiscence, which is the radix of all sin, following the crasis and temperature of the body, 181.
2. Because of its close, inseparable nearness to the soul; being, as it were, ingrafted into it, and thereby made connatural to it, 186.
3. Because of its dearness to us; there being nothing we prosecute with a more affectionate tenderness, than our bodies; and sin being our darling, the queen-regent of our affections, 188.
Hence is inferred,
1. The deplorable estate of fallen man, 191.
2. The great difficulty the duty of mortification, 191.
3. The mean and sordid employment of every sinner, 192.
II. What is imported by the crucifixion of the flesh: under which is shewn;
1. What is the reason of the use of it in this place: it is used by way of allusion to Christ, of whose behaviour and sufferings every Christian is to be a living copy and representation, 193.
2. The full force and significancy of the expression: it imports four things: (1.) The death of sin, 196. (2.) Its violent death, 198. (3.) Its painful, bitter, and vexatious death, 199. (4.) Its shameful and cursed death, 201.
3. Some means prescribed for the enabling us to the performance of this duty: viz.
(1.) A constant and pertinacious denying our affections and lusts in all their cravings for satisfaction, 203.
(2.) The encountering them by actions of the opposite virtues, 204.
IV. What may be drawn, by way of consequence and deduction, from what has been delivered: and,
1. We collect the high concernment and absolute necessity of every man’s crucifying his carnal, worldly affections, because, without it, he cannot be a Christian, 205.
2. We gather a standing and infallible criterion to distinguish those that are not Christ’s from those that are, 206.
An objection, that “it is an hard and discouraging assertion,
that none should be reputed Christ’s, unless he has fully crucified and destroyed
his sin,” answered by explaining
Woe to him that buildeth a town with blood. P. 209
A short account being given of this whole prophecy, which foretells the great event of the Babylonish captivity, 209. the words of the text are prosecuted in five particulars.
I. The ground and cause of this woe or curse; which was the justly abhorred sin of blood-guiltiness, 212.
II. The condition of the person against whom this curse is denounced: he was such an one as had actually established a government and built a city with blood, 214.
III. The latitude and extent of “this woe or curse; which includes the miseries of both worlds, present and future: and, to go no further than the present, is made up of the following ingredients:
1. A general hatred and detestation, fastened upon such men’s persons, 217.
2. The torment of continual jealousy and suspicion, 219.
3. The shortness and certain dissolution of the government, that he endeavours so to establish, 220.
4. The sad and dismal end that usually attends such persons, 222.
IV. The reasons, why a curse or woe is so peculiarly denounced against this sin. Among many, these are produced:
1. Because the sin of bloodshed makes the most direct breach upon human society, of which the providence of God owns the peculiar care and protection, 224.
2. For the malignity of those sins, that almost always go in conjunction with it; particularly the sins of fraud, deceitfulness, and hypocrisy, 226.
V. An application of all to this present occasion, 227. by
1. In the charge of unjust effusion of blood, considered, 1. As public, and acted by and upon a community, as in war, 228. or, 2. Personal, in the assassination of any particular man, 229.
2. In the end or design for which it was shed; namely, the erecting and setting up of a government, 230.
3. In the woe or curse denounced, which is shewn to have befell these bloody builders. 1. In the shortness of the government so set up, 231. 2. In the general hatred that followed their persons,
For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the Devil. P. 234.
This divine apostle endeavours to give the world a right information about this so great and concerning affair in this chapter, and particularly in these words; wherein we have,
I. An account of Christ’s coming into the world, in this expression; the Son of God was manifested. Which term, though it principally relates to the actual coming of Christ into the world, yet is of a larger comprehension, and leads to an enumeration and consideration of passages before and after his nativity, 234.
II. The end and design of his coming, which was to destroy the works of the Devil. In the prosecution of which is shewn,
1. What were those works of the Devil that the Son of God destroyed,
238. and these works are reduced to three: 1. Delusion, his first art of ruining
mankind; which is displayed by a survey of the world lying under gentilism, in their
principles of speculation and practice, 239. 2dly, Sin. As the Devil deceived men
only to make them sinful, some account is given of his success herein, 243.
2dly, The ways and means by which he destroys them. Now as the works of the Devil were three, so Christ encounters them by those three distinct offices belonging to him as mediator. 1st, As a prophet, he destroys and removes that delusion, that had possessed the world, by those divine and saving discoveries of truth, exhibited in the doctrine and religion promulged by him, 248. 2dly, As a priest, he destroyed sin, by that satisfaction that he paid down for it, and by that supply of grace that he purchased, for the conquering and rooting it out of the hearts of believers, 250. 3dly, As a king he destroys death by his power: for it is he that has the keys of life and death., opening where none shuts, and shutting where none opens, 251.
And when Herod the king-heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. P. 253.
It having been the method of divine Providence, to point out extraordinary events and passages with some peculiar characters of remark; such as may alarm the minds and engage the eyes of the world, in a more exact observance of, and attention to, the hand of God in such great changes; no event was ever ushered in with such notable prodigies and circumstances as the nativity of our blessed Saviour, 253. Some of them the apostle recounts in this chapter; which may be reduced to these two heads:
I. The solemn address and homage made to him by the wise men of the east. Under which passage these particulars are considered:
1. Who and what these wise men were, 255.
2. The place from whence they came, 258.
3. About what time they came to Jerusalem, 260.
4. What that star was that appeared to them, 262.
5. How they could collect our Saviour’s birth by that star, 263.
II. Herod’s behaviour thereupon, 266. Herod is discoursed of,
1. In respect of his condition and temper, in reference to his government of Judaea; which are marked out by three things recorded of him, both in sacred and profane story. 1st, His usurpation, 266. 2d, His cruelty, 267. 3d, His magnificence, 268.
2. In respect of his behaviour and deportment, upon this particular occasion, which shews itself, 1. In that trouble and anxiety of mind that he conceived upon this news, 270. 2. In that wretched course he took to secure himself against his supposed competitor, 271.
3. In respect of the influence this his behaviour had upon those under his government.
The question, why Christ, being born the right and lawful king of the Jews, yet gave way to this bloody usurper, and did not assume the government to himself, answered:
1. Because his assuming it would have crossed the very design of that religion that he was then about to establish; which was, to unite both Jew and Gentile into one church or body, 273.
2. Christ voluntarily waved the Jewish crown, that he might hereby declare to the world the nature of his proper kingdom; which was, to be wholly without the grandeur of human sovereignty, and the splendour of earthly courts, 274.
He that loves father or mother better than me is not worthy of me. P. 275.
Our Saviour here presents himself and the world together, as competitors for our best affections, challenging a transcendent affection on our parts, because of a transcendent worthiness on his, 275.
By father and mother are to be understood whatsoever enjoyments are dear unto us, 276. and from the next expression, he is not worthy of me, the doctrine of merit must not be asserted: because there is a twofold worthiness, 1. According to the real inherent value of the thing; and so no man by his choicest endeavours can be said to be worthy of Christ, 277. 2. When a thing is worthy, not for any value in itself, but because God freely accepts it as such, 277.
This being premised, the sense of the words is prosecuted in three particulars.
I. In shewing what is included and comprehended in that love to Christ here mentioned.
It may include five things. 1. An esteem and valuation of Christ above all worldly enjoyments whatsoever, 278. 2. A choosing him before all other enjoyments, 279. 3. Service and obedience to him, 281. 4. Acting for him in opposition to all other things, 284. 5. It imports a full acquiescence in him alone, even in the absence and want of all other felicities, 286.
II. In shewing the reasons and motives that may induce us to this love.
1. He is the best able to reward our love, 291.
2. He has shewn the greatest love to us, 294. and obliged us with two of the highest instances of it: 1. He died for us, 296. 2. He died for us while we were enemies, and in the phrase of scripture, enmity itself against him, 298.
III. In shewing the signs and characters whereby we may discern this love.
1. A frequent and indeed a continual thinking of him, 300.
2. A willingness to leave the world, whensoever God shall think fit by death to summon us to a nearer converse with Christ, 301.
3. A zeal for his honour, and an impatience to hear or see any indignity offered him, 302.
In whom we have boldness and access with confidence by the faith of him. P. 305. 321. 337.
Prayer is to be exercised with the greatest caution and exactness, being the most solemn intercourse earth can have with heaven. The distance between God and us, so great by nature, and yet greater by sin, makes it fearful to address him: but Christ has smoothed a way; and we are commanded to come with a good heart, not only in respect of innocence, but also of confidence, 305.
The words prosecuted in the discussion of four things.
I. That there is a certain boldness and confidence, very well becoming of our humblest addresses to God, 306.
This is evident; for it is the very language of prayer to treat God with the appellation of Father. The nature of this confidence is not so easily set forth by positive description, as by the opposition that it bears to its extremes; which are of two sorts.
1. In defect. This confidence is herein opposed, 1. To desperation and horror of conscience, 307. 2. To doubtings and groundless scrupulosities, 308. Some of these stated and answered, 309.
2. In excess. Herein confidence is opposed, 1. To rashness and precipitation, 312. 2. To impudence or irreverence, which may shew itself many ways in prayer, but more especially, 1. By using of saucy, familiar expressions to God, 315. or, 2. In venting crude, sudden, extemporary conceptions before God, 317.
II. Is shewn, that the foundation of this confidence is laid in the mediation of Christ, 319. which is yet more evidently set forth,
III. In shewing the reason, why Christ’s mediation ought to minister such confidence to us: which is, the incomparable fitness of Christ for the performance of that work, 321. and this appears by considering him,
1. In respect of God, with whom he is to mediate, 322. God
2. In reference to men, for whom he mediates. He bears a fourfold relation to them. 1. Of a friend, 326. 2. Of a brother, 327. 3. Of a surety, 328. 4. Of a lord or master, 329.
3. In respect of himself, who performs the office. 1. He is perfectly acquainted with all our wants and necessities, 331. 2. He is heartily sensible of and concerned about them, 333. 3. He is best able to express and set them before the Father, 334.
IV. Whether there is any other ground that may rationally embolden us, in these our addresses to him, 337.
If there is, it must be either, 1. Something within; as the merit of our good actions, 337. But this cannot be, 1. Because none can merit but by doing something absolutely by his own power, for the advantage of him from whom he merits, 338. 2. Because to merit is to do something over and above what is due, 338. It must then be,
2. Something without us: and this must be the help and intercession either, 1. Of angels, or 2. Of saints, 339.
Angels cannot mediate for us, and present our prayers; 1. Because it is impossible for them to know and perfectly discern the thoughts, 339. 2. Because no angel can know at once all the prayers that are even uttered in words throughout the world, 339-
The arguments some bring for the knowledge of angels, partly upon scripture, 340. and partly upon reason, 344. examined and answered, 341. 344.
The foregoing arguments against angels proceed more forcibly against
the intercession of saints: to which there may be added over and above, 1. That
God sometimes takes his saints out of the world, that they may not know and see
The Romish arguments from scripture,
The invocation of saints supposed to arise, 1. From the solemn meetings, used by the primitive Christians, at the saints’ sepulchres, and there celebrating the memory of their martyrdom, 351. 2. From those seeds of the Platonic philosophy, that so much leavened many of the primitive Christians, 352. 3. From the people’s being bred in idolatry, 352. But the primitive fathers held no such thing; and the council of Trent, that pretended to determine the case, put the world off with an ambiguity, 353.
Conclusion, that Christ is the only true way; the way that has light to direct, and life to reward them that walk in it; and consequently there is no coming to the Father but by him, 355.
And the Lord said, My Spirit shall not always strive with man. P. 357.
God, in the first chapter, looks over all created beings, and pronounces them to be good: in this chapter, he surveys the sons of men before the flood, and delivers his judgment, that they were exceeding wicked, nay totally corrupt and depraved. But amidst those aboundings of wickedness, God left not himself without a witness in their hearts: they had many checks and calls from the Holy Spirit, which, by their resolution to persist in sin, they did at length totally extinguish. God withdraws his Spirit, and the strivings of it: and presently the flood breaks in upon them, to their utter perdition, 357.
The words afford several observations; as first, from the method God took in this judgment, first withdrawing his Spirit, and then introducing the flood, we may observe,
1. D. That God’s taking away his Spirit from any soul, is the certain forerunner of the ruin of that soul, 358.
2. From that expression of the Spirits striving with man, we may observe,
2. D. That there is in the heart of man a natural enmity and opposition to the motions of God’s holy Spirit, 359.
3. From the same expression we may observe,
3. D. That the Spirit in its dealings with the heart is very earnest and vehement, 359-
4. From the definitive sentence God here passes we may observe,
4. D. That there is a set time, after which the convincing operations of God’s Spirit upon the heart of man, in order to his conversion, being resisted, will cease, and for ever leave him, 359.
This last doctrine, seeming to take in the chief scope of the Spirit in these words, is here prosecuted in four things.
I. In endeavouring to prove and demonstrate the truth of this assertion from scripture, 360.
That it is the way of God’s dealings still to withdraw his Spirit
after some notorious resistance, instanced from several scriptures: 1. From
Here note, that by a set time, is not to be understood a general set time, which is the same in every man; but a set and stinted time in respect of every particular man’s life, in which there is some limited period wherein the workings of the Spirit will for ever stop, 364.
II. In shewing how many ways the Spirit may be resisted; that is, in every way which the Spirit takes to command and persuade the soul to the performance of duty and the avoidance of sin, 364. As,
1. Externally, by the letter of the word, either written or preached,
it may be resisted, 365. 1. By a negligent hearing and a careless attendance upon
it, 367. 2. By acting in a clear and open contrariety to it, 368. And this last
kind of resisting is great and open rebellion; 1. Because action is the
2. By its immediate internal workings upon the soul. And here the Spirit may be resisted,
1, In its illumination of the understanding; that is, its infusing a certain light into the mind, in some measure enabling it to discern and judge of the things of God, 371. Now this light is threefold: 1. That universal light, usually termed the light of nature, 372. 2. A notional light of scripture; or a bare knowledge of and assent to scripture truths, 373. 3. A special convincing light, which is an higher degree, yet may be resisted and totally extinguished, 374.
2. In its conviction of the will, 376. Now the convincing works of the Spirit upon the will, in all which it may be opposed, are, 1. A begetting in it some good desires, wishes, and inclinations, 377. 2. An enabling it to perform some imperfect obedience, 378. 3. An enabling it to forsake some sins, 380.
III. In shewing the reasons why upon such resistance the Spirit finally withdraws.
1. The first reason is drawn from God’s decree, 382.
2. Because it is most agreeable to the great intent and design of the gospel, l. In converting and saving the elect, 385. 2. In rendering reprobates inexcusable, 386.
3. Because it highly tends to the vindication of God’s honour: 1. As it is a punishment to the sinner, 390. 2. As a vindication of his attributes: 1. Of wisdom, 392. 2. Of mercy, in shewing it is no ways inferior, much less contrary to his holiness, 393. and not repugnant to his justice, 394.
4. Because it naturally raises in the hearts of men an esteem and valuation of the Spirit’s workings: 1. An esteem of fear, 396. 2. An esteem of love, 396.
IV. In an application. We are exhorted not to quench the Spirit, but to cherish all his suggestions and instructions, 397. Because our resisting the Spirit will,
1st, Certainly bereave us of his comforts, 398. which are, 1. Giving a man to understand his interest in Christ, and consequently in the love of God, 399. 2. Discovering to him that grace that is within him, 400.
2d, It will bring a man under hardness of heart, and a reprobate sense, by way, 1. Of natural causation, 402. 2. Of a judicial curse from God, 402.
3d, It puts a man in the very next disposition to the great and unpardonable sin against the Holy Ghost; the foregoing acts being like so many degrees and steps leading to this dreadful sin, which is only a greater kind of resistance of the Spirit, 402.
For I say unto you. That unless your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the scribes and pharisees; ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven. P. 405.
Our blessed Saviour here shews, first, that eternal salvation cannot be attained by the righteousness of the scribes and pharisees; secondly, that it may be obtained by such a one as does exceed it, 405.
For understanding the words it is explained,
I. That these scribes and pharisees amongst the Jews were such as owned themselves the strictest livers and best teachers in the world, 406.
II. That righteousness here has a twofold acception. 1. Righteousness of doctrine, 406. 2. Righteousness in point of practice, 407.
III. That the kingdom of heaven has three several significations in scripture: 1. It is taken for the Christian economy, opposed to the Jewish and Mosaic, 407. 2. For the kingdom of grace, 408. 3. For the kingdom of glory, 408.
These things premised, the entire sense of the words lies in three propositions.
1. That a righteousness is absolutely necessary to the attainment of salvation, 409.
2. That every degree of righteousness is not sufficient to entitle the soul to eternal happiness, 409.
3. That the righteousness that saves must far surpass the greatest righteousness of the most refined hypocrite in the world, 409.
This proposition, virtually containing both the former, is the subject of the discourse, and prosecuted in three things.
I. Shewing the defects of the hypocrites, (here expressed by the scribes and pharisees,) 410.
As, 1. That it consisted chiefly in the external actions of duty, 410. 2. That it was but partial and imperfect, not extending itself equally to all God’s commands, 412. 3. That it is legal; that is, such a one as expects to win heaven upon the strength of itself, and its own worth, 416.
II. Shewing the perfections and qualities by which the righteousness that saves transcends that of the hypocrites.
Among many, four are insisted upon: 1. That it is entirely the same, whether the eye of man see it or not, 420. 2. That it is an active watching against and opposing every even the least sin, 423. 3. That it is such an one as always aspires and presses forward to still an higher and an higher perfection, 426. 4. The fourth and certainly distinguishing property of it is humility, 428.
III. Shewing the necessity of such a righteousness in order to a man’s salvation. Which arises,
1. From the holiness of God, 430.
2. From the work and employment of a glorified person in heaven: and no person, whom the grace of God has not thoroughly renewed and sanctified, can be fit for such a task; for it is righteousness alone that must both bring men to heaven, and make heaven itself a place of happiness to those that are brought thither, 432.
If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.
CHRISTIANITY, if we well weigh and consider it, in the several parts and members of it, throughout the whole system, may be justly called the last and the most correct edition of the law of nature; there being nothing excellent amongst the heathens, as deducible from the external light of nature, but is adopted into the body of Christian precepts. Neither is there any precept in Christianity so severe and mortifying, and at the first face and appearance of things grating upon our natural conveniencies, but will be resolved into a natural reason; as advancing and improving nature in the higher degrees and grander concerns of it.
And of so universal a spread is the benign influence of this religion,
that there is no capacity of man but it takes care for; not only his religious,
but his civil and political. It found the world under government, and has bound
those bonds of government faster upon it, by new and superadded obligations. And
by the best methods of preservation, it secures both the magistrate’s prerogative
and the subject’s enjoyment, by the happy provisions of peace; the encomiums of
which great blessing
The text, we see, is a vehement, concerning, passionate exhortation to this blessed duty, and great instrument of society, peace. If it be possible, live peaceably. It is suspended upon the strictest conditions, stretching the compass of its necessity commensurate to the utmost latitude of possibility.
The words are easy, but their matter full; and so require a full and a large, that is, a suitable prosecution; which I shall endeavour to give them in the discussion of these four particulars.
I. The shewing what is implied in the duty here enjoined.
II. What are the measures and proportions by which it is to be determined.
III. What are the means by which it is to be effected.
IV. What the motives by which it may be enforced.
I. And for the first of these, the duty here enjoined is, live peaceably; which expression is ambiguous, and admits of a double signification.
1. It may be taken for the actual enjoyment of peace with all men. In which sense he only lives peaceably, whom no man molests.
2. It may be taken for a peaceable behaviour towards all men. In which sense he lives peaceably, by whom no man is molested.
The first of these senses cannot be here intended by the apostle, and that for these two undeniable reasons.
(1.) Because so to live peaceably is impossible;
The impossibility of it appears upon these two accounts.
1st, The contentious, unreasonable humour of many men. Upon this
score, David complains of his enemies, that when he spoke of peace, they were
for war. Many of the enmities of the world commence not upon the merit of the
person that is hated, but upon the humour of him that hates: and some are enemies
to a man for no other cause in the earth, but because they will be his enemies.
The grounds of very great disgusts are not only causeless, but oftentimes very senseless.
Some will be a man’s enemies for his looks, his tone, his mien, and his gesture;
and upon all occasions prosecute him heartily with much concernment and acrimony.
And therefore that argument is insignificant, which I have often heard used by some
men to others; who, when they complain of injurious dealings, think they have irrefragably
answered them in this; Why should such an one be your enemy? what hurt have you
done him? or what good can he do himself by injuriously treating of you? All which
supposes that some reason may and must be given for that which, for the most part,
is absolutely unreasonable. A little experience in the world would quickly and truly
reply to these demands; that such or such an one is an enemy, not upon provocation,
but that his genius and his way inclines him to insult, and to be contentious. And
nature is sometimes so favourable to the world, as to set its mark upon such a person,
and to draw the lines of his ill disposition
There are some persons, that, like so many salamanders, cannot live but in the fire; cannot enjoy themselves but in the heats and sharpness of contention: the very breath they draw does not so much enliven, as kindle and inflame them; they have so much bitterness in their nature, that they must be now and then discharging it upon somebody; they must have vent, and sometimes breathe themselves in an invective or a quarrel, or perhaps their health requires it: should they be quiet a week, they would need a purge, and be forced to take physic.
And now, if any one should be molested and have his peace disturbed by such a person, would he be solicitous to find out the cause, and satisfy himself about the reason of it? When you see a mad dog step aside out of his walk only to bite somebody, and then return to it again, you had best ask him the reason why he did so. Why, the reason is, that he is mad, and his worm will not let him be quiet, without doing mischief, when he has opportunity.
Now such tempers there are in the world, and always were, and
always will be; and so long as there be such, how can there be a constant, undisturbed
quietness in societies? We may as well expect, that nobody should die when the air
is generally infected, or that poison should be still in the stomach, and yet work
no effect upon the body. God must first weed the world of all contentious spirits
and ill dispositions, before an universal peace can grow in it. And this may be
one reason to prove,
2dly, The second reason is from the contrary and inconsistent interests of many men. Most look upon it as their interest to be great, rich, and powerful: but it is impossible for all that desire it to be so; forasmuch as some’s being so, is the very cause that others cannot. As the rising up of one scale of the balance does of necessity both infer and effect the depression of the other.
This premised, we easily know further, that there is nothing which men prosecute with so much vigour, vehemence, and activity, as their interest; and the prosecution of contrary interests must needs be carried on by contrary ways and motions; which will be sure to thwart and interfere one with another: and this is the unavoidable cause of enmity and opposition between persons.
Sometimes we see two men pecking at one another very eagerly, with all the arts of undermining, supplanting, and ruining one another. What! is it because the one had done the other an injury? or because he is of a quarrelsome temper? Perhaps neither; but because he stands in his way; he cannot rise but by his disgrace and downfall; he must be removed, or the other person’s designs cannot go forward. Now as long as both these interests bear up together, and one has not totally run down and devoured the other, so long the persons will be engaged in a constant enmity and contest.
The ground that the poet assigned as one great cause of the civil
wars between Caesar and Pompey, multis utile bellum, is that
into which most men’s
What is the reason that it is observed in tradesmen and artificers, that they are always almost detracting from one another; but that it is the apparent interest of one, by begetting in men a vile esteem of the other, to divert his custom to himself; or at least to secure that in his own hands, which he has already? If the other person is the only workman, why then he shall monopolize all the custom; if he be as good as this, then this shall have the less: and this is that which sets them upon perpetual bickerings and mutual vilifications.
The sum of all is, that most men’s interests lie cross, their advantages clash, or at least are thought to do so: and contrary qualities will prey upon one another. Where men’s interests fight, they themselves are not like to be long at peace. But now God, in his wise providence, is pleased to cast the affairs of mankind into such a posture, that there will be always such inequalities and contrarieties in the conditions and estates of men. And this is the other reason, why to enjoy peace with all men is impossible.
(2.) But in the next place, admitting that it were not impossible,
yet thus to live peaceably with all men cannot be the sense of the apostle’s
exhortation, forasmuch as it can be no man’s duty. That which is the matter of duty
ought to be a thing not only possible in itself, but also in the power of him
And for this it seems adequately to consist of these two things.
1. A forbearance of hostile actions.
2. A forbearance of injurious, provoking words.
This seems to take in the whole scope of it, as comprehending all that makes up the behaviour of one man towards another, which are his actions and his words; what he does and what he says. And if those unruly instruments of action, the tongue and the hands, be regulated and kept quiet, there must needs ensue an entire peace.
1. And first, the living peaceably implies a total forbearance of all hostile actions, and that in a double respect:
(1.) In a way of prevention.
(2.) In a way of retaliation.
(1.) For the first, I call that prevention, when a man unprovoked makes an injurious invasion upon the rights of another, whether as to his person or estate. God, for the preservation of society, has set a defence upon both these, and made propriety sacred, by the mounds and fortifications of a law. For what living were there, did not the divine authority secure a man both in his being and in the means of his being; but should leave it free for the stronger to devour and crush the weaker, without being responsible to the almighty Governor of all things for the injury done to his fellow-creature, and the contempt passed upon the divine law?
And certainly one would think it not only a reasonable, but a very easy thing for a man wholly unprovoked to keep his hand from his brother’s throat, to let him live and enjoy his limbs, and to have the benefits of nature, and the common rights of creation. It is a sad thing for a man not to be safe in his own house, but much more in his own body, the dearer earthly tabernacle of the two. How barbarous a thing is it to see a Romulus imbruing his hands in the blood of his brother! and he that kills his neighbour, kills his brother, as to the common bonds and cognation of humanity. Now all murders, poisons, stabs, and unjust blows, fall under this just violation of the peace in reference to men’s persons; which God will avenge and vindicate, as being parts of his image: for there is none who requires to be honoured in himself, who will endure to be affronted so much as in his picture.
It is looked upon by some as a piece of gentility and height of
spirit, to stab and wound, especially
The other instance of violence, is the forcible wringing from men the supports of life, their estates, their revenues, or whatsoever is reducible to this notion, as contributing either to their subsistence or convenience. And this is not to be understood barely of oppression managed by open and downright defiance; but by any other sinister way whatsoever, as the overbearing another’s right by the interest and interposal of great persons, by vexatious suits and violence cloaked with the formalities of a court and the name of law. And whosoever interverts a profit belonging to another by any of these courses, is a thief and a robber; perhaps a more safe and creditable one indeed, but still a thief; and that as really, as if he did it by plunder and sequestration; which is only a more odious name, but not a more unjust thing.
And he is no less a disturber of the peace, and a breaker of this
law, who oppresses the widow, and grinds the face of the fatherless and the poor,
than he who forages a country with an army. For that is only violence with a greater
noise, and more solemnities of terror. But God, who weighs an evil action by the
malignity of its principle and the injustness of its design, and not by those exterior
circumstances which only clothe its appearance, but not at all constitute its nature,
has as much vengeance in store for an oppressing justice (if that be not a contradiction
in the terms) as he has for the pillaging soldier or the insolent decimator: it
being as truly
For wherein should consist the difference? Is it because one stands upon his ground, and repels the invasion? and the other opens his bosom to the blow, and resigns himself to his oppressor with patience and silence? Is it peace, because the man is gagged and cannot, or overawed and dares not cry out of oppression? Or is he therefore not wronged, because his adversary, by his place or greatness, has set himself above the reach of justice, and is grown too big for the law?
It was an acute and a proper saying of one concerning a prevailing faction of men, Solitudinem cum fecerint, pacem vocant; when they have devoured, wasted, and trampled down all before them, so that there is none indeed so much as left to resist, that they call peace. But certainly neither are the peacemakers blessed, nor is the peace a blessing, that is procured by such dismal methods of total ruin and desolation. And thus much for the forbearance of hostility in point of prevention or provocation.
(2.) In the next place, there is required also a forbearance of
all hostile actions, as to retaliation. I shall not run forth into the common place
about revenge, it being a subject large and important enough to be treated of in
a discourse by itself. But this I shall say, that according to the weights and measures
by which Christianity judges of things and actions, he that revenges an injury will
be found as truly a malefactor in the court of heaven, as he
A peaceable deportment is one of the great duties enjoined in
it: and the rule and measure of that is to be charity, of which divine quality the
apostle tells us in
And the truth is, if it drives on a design of peace, we shall find that the consequences of revenge make as great a breach upon that, as a first defiance and provocation. For were not this answered with resistance and retribution, it would perhaps exhale and vanish; and the peace would at least be preserved on one side. For be the injurious person never so quarrelsome, yet the quarrel must fall, if the injured person will not fight. Fire sometimes goes out, as much for want of being stirred up, as for want of fuel.
And therefore he that can remit nothing, nor recede, nor sacrifice the prosecution of a small dispensable right to the preservation of peace, understands not the full dimensions and latitude of this great duty; nor remembers that he himself is ruined for ever, should God deal with him upon the same terms.
The great God must relax his law, and recede from some of his
right; and every day be willing to
If revenge were no sin, forgiveness of injuries could be no duty.
But Christ has made it a grand and a peculiar one: indeed so great, as to suspend
the whole business of our justification upon it, in
It is or may be the case of every one of us. We pray every day
for forgiveness; nay, we are so hardy as to pray that God would forgive us just
so as we forgive others: and yet oftentimes we can be sharp, furious, and revengeful;
prosecute every supposed injury heartily and bitterly; and think we do well and
generously not to yield nor relent: and what is the strangest thing in the world,
notwithstanding an express and loud declaration of God to the contrary, all this
time we look to be saved by mercy; and, like Saul, to be caught into heaven, while
we are
But as to the great duty of peaceableness which we have been discoursing of, we must know, that he who affronts and injures his brother breaks the peace; but withal that he who owns and repays the ill turn, perpetuates the breach. By the former, a sin is only born into the world; but by the latter, it is brought up, nourished, and maintained.
And perhaps the greatest unquietness of human affairs is not so much chargeable upon the injurious, as the revengeful. The first undoubtedly has the greater guilt; but the other causes the greater disturbance. As a storm could not be so hurtful, were it not for the opposition of trees and houses; it ruins no where, but where it is withstood and repelled. It has indeed the same force when it passes over the rush or the yielding osier; but it does not roar nor become dreadful, till it grapples with the oak, and rattles upon the tops of the cedars. And thus I have shewn the first thing included in a peaceable behaviour, viz. a forbearance of hostile actions, and that both as to provocation and retaliation. But whether all kind of retaliation be absolutely unlawful, shall be inquired into afterwards.
2. The other thing that goes to constitute a peaceable behaviour,
is a forbearance of injurious, provoking words. I know none that has or deserves
a reputation, but tenders the defence of it, as much as of his person or estate.
And perhaps it has as great an influence upon his contents and emoluments as both
of them. It is that which makes him considerable in society. He is owned by his
friends, and cannot be trampled upon by his enemies.
Upon this it is, that abusive language, by which properly a man’s repute is invaded, is by all men deservedly looked upon as an open defiance, and proclaiming of war with such a person: and consequently, that the reviler is as great a disturber as an armed enemy; who usually invades a man in that which is much less dear unto him. Rabshakeh broke the peace with Hezekiah, as much by his railing, as by the army that besieged him. And he that flings dirt at a man, affronts him as much as he that flings a stone at him. A wound upon the skin is sometimes sooner got off than a spot upon the clothes.
I would fain know, what man almost there is, that does not resent an ugly, reflexive word with more acrimony and impatience, than he would the stab of a poniard. He remembers it more tenaciously, prosecutes it more thoroughly, and forgets it much more difficultly. And the reason is, because a blow or a wound directs an evil only to a man’s person, but an ill word designs him a wider calamity; it endeavours the propagation and spreading of his unhappiness, and would render him miserable as far as he is known.
Besides, it hurts him so as to put the reparation of that hurt
absolutely out of his power: for it lodges his infamy in other men’s thoughts and
opinions, which he cannot command or come at, so as to rectify and disabuse them.
But admit that the defamed person by a blameless and a virtuous deportment
I conclude therefore, that this great duty of living peaceably is not consummate, without a constant and a careful suppression of all offensive and provoking speeches. And he who does not acquit himself in this instance of a Christian behaviour, will find hereafter, that men will meet with as certain a condemnation for what they have said, as for what they have done.
And thus much for the first general thing proposed for the handling of the words; namely, to shew what was implied in the duty enjoined in them. I pass now to the
Second, which is to consider, what are the measures and proportions by which it is to be determined. And those are expressed in these words; If it be possible, live peaceably. Now possible may be taken two ways.
1. As it is opposed to naturally impossible, and that which cannot be done. Which sense cannot be here intended, as being supposed in all just and reasonable commands. For none can rationally command or advise a man to that, which is not naturally within his power, as has been already observed.
2. It may be taken, as it is opposed to morally impossible, and
that which cannot be done lawfully:
But now the observance of peace being limited by the measure of lawful, it follows, that where the breaking of the peace is not unlawful, there the maintaining of it ceases to be a necessary duty. It is of some moment therefore to satisfy ourselves when it is lawful, and when unlawful to break the peace. And all inquiries concerning this are reducible to these two.
1. Whether it can at all be lawful.
2. Supposing that it may be lawful, when and where it ought to be judged so.
Under the first of these I shall discuss that great question, whether war can be lawful for Christians. Under the second, I shall shew those general grounds that may authorize a war, and from thence descend to the resolution of particular cases. As,
1. Whether it can be lawful to break peace with the magistrate.
2. Whether it may be lawful for one private man to make war upon another, in those encounters which we commonly call duels.
3. Whether it be lawful for a man to repel force with force, so as to kill another in his own defence.
4. And lastly, since the prosecution of another in courts of judicature
is in its kind a breach of the
All these things admit of much doubt and dispute; and yet, being matters of common and daily occurrence, it concerns us to have a right judgment of them.
I shall begin with the first question, which is concerning the lawfulness of war; in order to the resolution of which, I shall premise what it is. War may be properly defined, a state of hostility, or mutual acts of annoyance, either for the preservation of the public from some mischief intended, or in the vindication of it for some mischief already done to it.
The ground of war therefore is some public hurt or mischief; and since this may be twofold, either intended or actually done, there are accordingly two distinct kinds of war, defensive or offensive.
1. Defensive is in order to keep off and repel an evil designed to the public; and therefore is properly an act of self-preservation.
2. Offensive is for the revenging a public injury done to a community, and so is properly an act of justice.
It is clear therefore, that the lawfulness and justness of war is founded upon the justness of its cause; and this being once found out, and rightly stated, I affirm, that it is allowable before God to cease from peace, and to enter into a state of war; and that upon the strength of these arguments:
(1.) That which is a genuine, natural, and necessary consequent
derived from one of the chief principles of the law of nature, that is lawful: but
That men will sometimes invade the rights and the lives of others is certain; and it is also as certain, that the naked breast is not the surest armour, nor patience the best weapon of defence.
Do we expect a rescue from heaven? and that God should send down fire from the clouds, and work miracles for our preservation? Experience sufficiently convinces us that such an expectation is vain. God delivers men by means, when means are to be had, and by the interposal of their own endeavours: and therefore he that flies to the church when he should be in the field, and takes his prayer-book in his hand when he should take his sword, tempts God, and loses himself; and, according to a due estimate of things, becomes a murderer, by so patiently suffering another to be so.
Victrix patientia is a puff and
a metaphor; and may, perhaps, in the issue of things, bear a man
Besides, patience is properly the suffering quietly, when God in his providence calls us to suffer: but it is not a suffering, when God calls us to act, and to stand upon our own defence. As in some men we see it usual to veil their cowardice and pusillanimity with the names of prudence and moderation; so that, which some call patience, will be once found nothing else but a lazy relinquishment of the rights and privileges of their nature; and that a life and a being was much cast away upon such as would not exert the utmost power they had to defend it. This argument is properly for defensive war.
(2.) The second is for offensive; and it proceeds thus: That which is a proper act of distributive justice is lawful; but such a thing is war, it being a retribution of punishment for a public hurt or injury done by one nation to another. That he who does a wrong should suffer for it, is a thing required by justice, the execution of which is committed to the supreme power of every nation: and why justice may not be done upon a company of malefactors defending themselves with arms, as well as upon any particular thief or murderer, brought shackled and disarmed to the block or the gallows, I cannot understand.
The case in a civil war is clear between a magistrate assisted
by his subjects, against another rebel part of his subjects: for he being the supreme
power, the right of punishing offenders, whether single or in companies, is undoubtedly
in him. But since to
To this I answer, that though these two kingdoms or states be in themselves equal, yet the injury received gives the injured people a right of claiming a reparation from those that did the injury; and consequently, in that respect, gives them a kind of superiority over the other. For, in point of right, still the injured person is superior: and the reason is, because common justice is concerned in his behalf; to whose rules all nations in the world owe a real subjection.
If it were not for war, therefore, there could be no provision made of doing justice upon an offending nation; justice would only prey upon particular persons; but national robberies, national murders, must pass in triumph with the reputation of virtues, as high and great actions, above the control of those common rules that govern the particular members of societies.
In a word, society could not consist, if it were not lawful for one nation to exact a compensation for the injuries done to it by another; and upon the refusal of such compensation, to endeavour it by force and acts of hostility. Wherefore I conclude, that war must needs be just, when the instrument of its management is the sword of justice. And this argument is for offensive war.
But before I dismiss it, there is one doubt that may require resolution,
and it is this; that admitting
I answer, that it is; and that upon this ground, that be a man’s delinquency against the laws of society never so great, yet, as long as he retains the nature of a man, he also retains the natural right of self-defence and preservation; unless where, by his own consent, he has quitted it.
But you will say, a particular malefactor is bound to resign up his life to the punishment of the law without resistance: and the case, as to this, seems to be the same in a particular malefactor and an injurious nation; war being a doing of justice upon one, as the execution of the gallows is upon the other: and consequently the obligation to a non-resistance seems to be the same in both. I answer, that the case is very different; and that upon this reason, that a particular member of a commonwealth has consented and submitted to the laws of the nation of which he is a member, which laws enjoin malefactors to surrender up their lives to justice without resistance; whereupon, the right of resisting is lost by his own consent. But now there is no law imposed upon one nation by another, or owned and submitted to by any nation, that obliges it, for having done an injury to another nation, without resistance to endure the effects of war and an hostile invasion; whereupon it still keeps the right of defending itself against all opposition, how just soever it be on their sides that make it.
(3.) The third argument is for all kind of war indifferently,
and it runs thus: If St. John the Baptist,
And first for St. John the Baptist. It was his great office to be the preacher of repentance, and to consign it with the great sacrament of baptism: upon which it is rational to conclude, that he admitted none to baptism, without declaring to them what sins they were to repent of. And since the sum of his doctrine was, that men should bring forth fruits worthy of repentance; when any men asked him what they were to do, to fulfil this great command, it is most consonant to reason to judge, that his answer taught them all that was included in that duty, and shewed them whatsoever was inconsistent with it.
But now, when the soldiers amongst others asked John what they
should do,
In the next place, for the judgment of Christ and his apostles
about this matter; the first we have in
From whence I argue thus: he whose faith Christ commended, and he to whom the Spirit of God bore this testimony, that he was a devout man, and feared God, could neither of them be engaged in a course of life absolutely unlawful; otherwise saving faith, and the fear of God, would be consistent with a settled, constant, resolved living in sin. For he whose employment is sinful, sins habitually, and with a witness; and we might, with as much propriety of speech, and truth in divinity, commend the faith of an highwayman, and say, a devout bawd, and a devout cheat, as a devout centurion.
I conclude therefore, that war is a thing in itself lawful and allowable, and that the proof of it stands firm, both upon the principles of nature and the principles of Christianity.
And being so, it is a great wonder that Faustus Socinus, and his school, in other things too partial defenders of nature, should yet in this so undeservedly desert it, as to assert all war to be utterly unlawful; not indeed by virtue of the law of nature, or of Moses, but of Christ, who, they say, has perfected the two former, and superadded higher and more sublime precepts.
But still I cannot see that this sect of men are able to quit themselves from the charge of very great unreasonableness in this assertion. For in those truths that concern the theory of the Christian religion, as about the Trinity and the like, they vehemently contend that all scriptures, howsoever in the clearest appearance of natural construction looking that way, yet ought to be interpreted and brought down to the analogy and rules of natural reason. But here, in the highest concerns of practice, in which men’s lives and fortunes, their being and wellbeing, are immediately interested, they strip men of all the rights of nature, and that under pretence of such an injunction from the Christian religion.
It concerns us therefore to inquire into their arguments; which we shall do, first, by examining the general ground upon which they stand; and then by traversing those several scriptures which these men allege in the behalf of their opinion.
First of all then, they lay this as the foundation of all their
arguings in this particular, that God, under the Mosaical covenant, made only promises
of temporal possessions and blessings to his people; and therefore giving them a
temporal Canaan, it was necessary that he should allow them the means of defending
it, which was properly by war, and repulsing their temporal enemies: but now under
the covenant of grace, established by the mediatorship of Christ with the world,
God has made no express promise of any temporal enjoyments or felicities; but rather,
on the contrary, bids us despise and take our minds wholly off from them. And therefore,
according to the tenor of such a covenant, he has made no provision to secure his
people in any such temporalities,
To this, which is a proposition current through the main body of the Socinian divinity, I answer, that it is both false in itself, and as to the present purpose hugely inconclusive.
For first, it is to be denied that God transacted with his people,
under the Mosaical covenant, only in temporal promises: he did indeed, according
to the thick genius of that people, too much intent upon worldly happiness, express
and shadow forth spiritual blessings under temporal; but that they had hopes, and
consequently promises of a better life after this, is clear from sundry places,
as particularly that in
And further, it is also false, that God has under the covenant
of grace made no temporal provision for the persons under it. For what mean those
words of Christ,
It is clear therefore, that the contrary proposition is false; and that it is as weak in the nature of an argument, as it is false in the nature of a proposition, is no less manifest.
For if the only reason that made war lawful to the Jews was because it was a means to secure them in the possession of their temporal Canaan, against the invasion and incursions of the enemy, then when there was no such incursion or invasion, it ceased to be lawful: this is a natural inference. But the contrary is evident: for we know that they commenced a lawful war against the tribe of Benjamin, their brethren, in which there could be no pretence either of securing or enlarging the borders of the promised land; but only a just revenge acted upon them, for a black and villanous trespass upon the laws of common justice and humanity.
And then for the Christian church; suppose they should have no
federal or spiritual right to their earthly possessions, yet they have a civil and
a natural
But that I may thoroughly pluck up this false foundation, grounded upon the difference of the two covenants, I shall observe this: that since in the former covenant there were some things of moral and external right, some things only of positive institution, peculiarly made for and restrained to the church and commonwealth of the Jews; whatsoever alterations and abrogations have been made by Christ under the second covenant, were only of those positive laws, peculiar and proper to the Jews; all other things, which depended upon the eternal and immutable laws and rights of nature, remaining inviolately the same under both covenants, and as unchanged as nature itself.
Now such a thing I affirm the right of war to be, as being the result and dictate of that grand natural right of self-preservation. It is the voice of reason and nature, that we should defend our persons from assassination, and our estates from violence: and he that seeks for rescue from any thing but a vigorous resistance, will find himself wronged to that degree, that it will be too late for him to be righted.
Having thus removed the false ground of the arguments, proving the utter unlawfulness of war, I come now to see what countenance this opinion receives from scripture; from which the abettors of it argue thus:
If we are expressly commanded not to resist evil, but being
smote on the right cheek, to turn the other also, as in
Before I answer these particular scriptures, I shall premise this:
What if we should answer Socinus in his own words, who in his book De Jesu Christo Servatore, disputing against Covelus for the disproving of Christ’s satisfaction, has the hardiness to say, that the word satisfaction is not to be found in scripture? which is true. But supposing that it were; yet it being, in his judgment, contrary to right reason, it was not, he says, to be admitted in the sense naturally signified by it. So say I; these scriptures indeed, however they prohibit self-defence, yet this being contrary to the light of nature and right reason, they are not to be admitted in their proper signification. Surely this, though it were a bold and a profane speech, yet to him it were a very full answer, who makes the very same plea upon a parallel occasion.
But we shall not need such refuges. To those scriptures therefore
I answer, that they are to be understood only of private revenge acted by one particular
man upon another, and not of a public, managed by the authority of the magistrate:
but such a revenge only is war. That the words are so to be understood is clear,
as the occasion of those in
Hereupon Christ tells them, that it was the duty of private men
not to resist evil, nor to revenge themselves, but being smote upon one cheek to
turn the other; which words are not literally to be understood, for neither Christ
himself nor the apostle Paul so behaved themselves: but being smote upon the face,
they expostulated the injury of the blow,
But that this prohibition of revenge, further urged in
But besides, as touching revenge, which is properly
As for the next injunction, of loving our enemies, I answer, 1. That it is there directed by Christ to particular persons, not public bodies or whole nations. 2. But secondly, admitting that it extends to these also, yet I assume that the love here commanded is not properly a love of friendship, but a love of charity; which consists in a freedom from any malice to, or hatred of our enemies’ persons: and this may continue and be maintained, even while a man, either in the defence or vindication of his country, kills his adversary in the field.
For I suppose a judge may be in charity with a malefactor while he condemns him; and the executioner have no design of hatred to him, whom by the duty of his office he makes a sacrifice to common justice.
The case is the same in war; where, when a man kills another, it is not because he has not a love of charity to his person, but because he is bound to love his prince and his country with a greater.
If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.
II. THE second argument to prove the unlawfulness of all war is
taken from that prophecy, in
Answ. But to this I answer;
1. That prophecies only foretell the future event of things, but determine nothing concerning either the lawfulness or unlawfulness of those things.
2. If these words are understood literally, that after the coming of the Messias war shall every where cease; then they prove nothing, but what the Jews pretend to prove by them, which is, that Jesus Christ is not the Messias; forasmuch as since his coming, we have seen no such thing as a general cessation of war over the world.
For the explication of this place therefore we must observe; that
in scripture, things have those effects ascribed to them which they have a natural
fitness to produce: though by accident, and other impediments, they never actually
produce them. Thus, because the gospel delivers such precepts to
But it may be replied, that then, however, those who obey and live up to the precepts of the gospel, ought to abstain from all war: whence it follows, that, according to those precepts, war is unlawful.
I answer, that upon supposition of such an absolute obedience to the doctrine of Christ, war indeed would not be lawful, because the very ground and occasion of it would be taken away, by the inoffensive behaviour of one man towards another. But the dispute is here concerning what is lawful to be done, when the generality of the world live not according to the tenor of this doctrine, but invade the rights of others. In which case I affirm, that the gospel rends not from any the privileges of a natural defence, and the prosecution of justice in a lawful war.
As for instance, the gospel, as much as any doctrine can do, makes provision that there should be no thieves or murderers in the world, by a prohibition of those unhallowed courses: but yet when it falls out that men obey not those prohibitions, but engage in such practices, surely it does not strip the magistrate of all right to animadvert upon such offenders, but leaves the axe as sharp, and the gibbet as strong as ever it was under the law. This exception therefore concludes nothing.
But then by the way, for the further clearing of the text from
the Jews’ objection, raised out of it
III. The third argument for the unlawfulness of war is taken from
that place in
IV. The fourth and last argument for the unlawfulness of war may
be framed thus: That which proceeds from a sinful cause, and produces sinful, unlawful
effects, that itself is unlawful. But so does war. For the sinfulness of its cause,
we have an account of that in
1. As for that place of St. James, it speaks only of personal quarrels and dissensions between particular men, and not of national hostilities managed by the public conduct of the magistrate: which only is the thing here disputed of.
2. But secondly, admit that the words may be extended to national hostilities and wars between people and people; yet the apostle speaks only of what usually are the causes of war; and not, what are so of necessity, and according to the nature of the thing itself: which, though on one side they are unlawful, namely on that which gives the offence; yet on the other, the causes of it are not. always men’s lusts; but a rational defence of their country, and a due vindication of public justice.
In a word, it is one thing to speak of war, as actually it uses
to be managed, and another to speak of it, as it ought and may be managed. And this
affords also an answer to the second part of the argument, concerning those sad
and sinful effects that follow it, as unjust violences, rapines, cruelties, and
the like. Of all which it is to be said, that they proceed only from the corruption
and vice of those who manage it, but are utterly extraneous to the nature of war,
considered precisely in itself. I know no action so good and allowable but may derive
a contagion by passing through ill hands. But we are not to judge of the nature
of any thing or action by that which is only accidental to it. The nature of war
consists properly either in the repelling of an intended, or the revenging of a
received injury. But whether this be done with unjust rapines and hideous cruelties
upon the innocent, or duly and justly, the nature of war is still the same: the
And thus I have answered all the arguments that to me seem to be of any moment to prove the absolute unlawfulness of all war; upon the strength of which answers, I think I may reckon upon it as a proved assertion, that war is not a thing in itself unlawful.
I suppose nobody will conclude the foregoing discourse to have been a commendation of war, much less an exhortation to it. It is indeed a lawful, but a sad remedy. And I think there is none who looks upon it as a sufficient argument to persuade him that the cutting off a leg or an arm is a desirable thing, because it is better to do so, than to have a gangrene spread itself over the whole body.
Caustics and corrosives may be endured, but certainly the causes that make them necessary are not to be chose. War can be desired only in the nature of a remedy, and a remedy always supposes an evil. And I know no argument so strong to prove the lawfulness of war, but that war itself is a stronger argument to prove the worth and the convenience of peace.
I have now done with the first general inquiry, concerning the measures by which the great duty of peaceableness is to be determined: which was, Whether war could be at all lawful? I come now to the second, which is to inquire, upon supposition that it may be lawful, When and where it ought to be judged so? And here I shall,
First, lay down some general grounds that may authorize war. And,
Secondly, descend to the resolution of particular cases.
For the first of these, I shall lay these four general grounds of the lawfulness of it, premising first what is the nature of peace.
Peace is properly the mutual forbearance of acts of hostility or annoyance, in order to the preservation of our nature in all its due rights and capacities.
It is clear therefore, that peace is a means or instrument designed only to such an end. Now that ceasing to be able to compass this end, to which it is designed, ceases also to be an instrument or means, and consequently to engage us to use it: whereupon it is lawful to enter into a contrary estate, namely, of hostility or war.
From whence follow these assertions, as so many general grounds of it.
1. When those with whom we are at peace declare that they will
annoy us, unless we cut off our limbs, and injure and mangle our bodies; and accordingly
upon our refusal disturb us; as Nahash the Ammonite did to the men of Jabesh Gilead,
offering them peace only upon condition that they would let him thrust out their
right eyes,
2. When those with whom we are at peace declare war with us, unless
we will renounce our religion, and, upon our refusal, do so; (which is the case
of the pope’s exposing the dominions of those whom he calls heretics to the invasion
of other princes;) it is then lawful to repel and resist that force or invasion.
3. When one nation injures another to that degree, as to blast its honour and reputation, it is lawful to revenge that public breach of honour by a public war. The reason is, because the honour of a nation is as absolutely necessary to the welfare and support of it, as its trade or commerce; it being indeed the great instrument of both, and perhaps also of its very safety and vital subsistence: it being seldom known that a government, dishonoured and despised abroad, did long preserve itself in credit and respect at home.
4. When those with whom we are at peace declare war with us, unless we will quit our civil rights, as our estates and families, and the protection of the laws, and accordingly upon our refusal do so; it is lawful to enter into war with those who make such encroachments upon us. The reason is, because when civil societies are constituted and submitted to, every man, so submitting to them, has a natural right to the conveniences and enjoyments of such societies.
Now the foundation of the lawfulness of war in all the forementioned cases is, because whatsoever a man has a lawful right to possess or enjoy, he has by consequence a right to use all those means which are absolutely necessary to the possession or enjoyment of that thing.
You will say now, that, according to this doctrine, when the prince encroaches upon his subjects’ bodies, estates, or religion, they may lawfully resist or oppose him.
This objection brings in the resolution of the first particular case proposed by us to be discussed, which is, Whether it be lawful for subjects in any case to make war upon the magistrate? My answer to it is in the negative; and the reason is, because the subject has resigned up all right of resistance into the hands of his prince and governor.
And for this we must observe, that as every man has naturally a right to resist any one that shall annoy him in his lawful enjoyments, so he has a general, natural right, by which he is master of all the particular rights of his nature, so as to retain them or recede from them, and give them away as he pleases.
Now when a man consents to be a subject, and to acknowledge any one for his governor, he does by that very action invest him with all the necessary means of being a governor; the chief of which is, a quitting and parting with that natural right of resisting him upon any occasion whatsoever.
And every man consents to have such an one his governor, from whom he covenants to receive protection, and to whom he does not actually declare a non-subjection.
This being laid down, it follows, that it is not more natural for a man to resist another particular man, who would deprive him of his rights, than it is natural for him not to resist his prince upon the same occasion. Forasmuch as by a superior and general right of nature, he has parted with this particular right of resistance: and consequently, having given his prince the propriety of it, he cannot any more use it, unless his prince should surrender it back to him again; which here is not supposed.
And this is the ground upon which I judge a resistance of the supreme magistrate both unlawful and irrational. But there have not been wanting in the world scholars to teach, as well as soldiers to act the contrary. Such as have weakened the ties of government, and shook the supremacy of princes, by prescribing of cases in which this duty of nonresistance binds not the subject; and by which they are so discharged of their allegiance, as to be let loose to carve for themselves, and to restrain their superiors.
But before I come to survey any of their opinions, I shall premise this rule or maxim: that those whom the people have a right of proceeding against, so as to punish them by law; those also they may proceed against by war and open force, in case that legal course of proceeding be obstructed.
The reason is, because war is a remedy upon the default of law; and therefore, where the coercive power of the law cannot have its effect, war is to take place, and supply the want of it: Ubi judicia desinunt, incipit bellum, says Grotius in his second book de Jure Belli, cap. i. sect. 2.
Upon which ground it is, that one private man cannot revenge an
injury upon another by open force, the law being open for him to right himself by;
but one nation may by force and war revenge an injury done to it by another nation,
because there is no provision of a coercive power stated by a law between them,
by which one nation may implead the other, and so have a reparation of an injury
made it by the sentence of a common judge. Now I premise this observation to shew,
that whosoever teaches that the people may judicially proceed against and punish
their prince, the same person does by
This being observed, I cannot but set before you those several cases assigned by Grotius in his first book de Jure Belli, and fourth chapter, in which he asserts it lawful for the people to proceed against their prince. As,
(1.) When, according to the professed constitution of the government, the prince is accountable to the people, as in Lacedaemon, where the people owned a coercive power over their king, which power they deposited in the hands of their ephori; who, by virtue thereof, restrained the king at the people’s pleasure.
(2.) When a prince quits and relinquishes all right of government: after which action, he says, the prince may be dealt withal as any other private man.
(3.) When he would transfer and alienate the right of government to another: in which endeavour, he says, the subjects may hinder, and by force resist him.
(4.) When he actually attempts the destruction of all his people.
(5.) When he holds the grant of the sovereignty from the people upon conditions, and fails in the fulfilling of those conditions.
(6.) When the prince holds but part of the supreme power, the
senate or people holding the other part: in which case, if the prince invades that
part of the sovereign power not belonging to him, those to whom that part does belong
may resist him. According to this doctrine, those amongst us who
(7.) When, in the conferring of the sovereignty to a prince, the people declare, that in certain cases it shall be lawful for them to resist him: and the reason is, because he who transfers his right to another, may transfer it upon what terms or under what reserves he thinks fit.
This seems of near affinity with the fifth instance, but it is not altogether the same: for the former is suspended upon the prince’s not doing of something which he conditioned to do; but this speaks not of the prince’s action, but of some events of affairs, under which the people put in caution, that their subjection to him should cease.
These aphorisms I had rather rehearse than animadvert upon; the great reputation of the author making all censures upon him, though perhaps true, yet unhandsome.
But the foundation which he had laid a little before, in the seventh section of the same chapter, seems large enough to bear all these superstructures, and many more.
For proposing the question, Whether the law of not resisting the
magistrate binds the subject in a great, imminent, and extreme danger? he answers,
that most laws, human and divine, though running in absolute terms, yet imply a
condition of relaxation in cases of extremity. And for this law, of not resisting
the magistrate, he says it sprung first from the consent of the people, who, for
the benefits of
This assertion, I am apt to think, in the full improvement of it, would widen itself to a very strange latitude. But thus much may be said for this author, that he breathed a popular air, and lived a member of a commonwealth, which needed such maxims as these to justify its being so.
But David Paraeus has, with a much more barefaced impudence, flown
in the face of sovereignty, in a set and long dispute upon
The whole discourse stands upon these two propositions.
Prop. I. The first is, that it is lawful for the inferior
magistrates to resist and punish the supreme;
1. If he blasphemes God, or causes others to do so. 2. If he does the subjects some great injury. His words are, si ipsis fiat atrox injuria; a term of a very large comprehension, and it is hard if any pretence cannot clothe itself with this name. 3. If the subjects cannot freely enjoy their lives, estates, and consciences.
This, I say, subverts all government; for, if the prince may be punished, it follows,
(1.) That he is not supreme; for all punishment, as such, is an act of the superior upon the inferior.
(2.) If the inferior magistrates may punish him, then they may also judge when he is to be punished; and consequently the prince is never secure, since it is in their power to judge this when they think fit; and they will undoubtedly think it fit, when they find it for their advantage.
His reasons for this doctrine are principally these two.
1. He lays down this division: kings are absolute or by compact; and subjoins, that there is none in Europe, but is by compact, and upon conditions. Upon this he reasons thus; that such a prince, violating the conditions upon which he holds the sovereignty, may be judged by the people or senate that made him prince, upon those conditions.
To this I answer, first, that those who hold the supremacy upon
any such conditional grant, upon default of these conditions, may indeed be made
accountable to their people; but then I deny that either the kings of England, France,
or Spain, hold
2. The other reason for the inferior magistrate’s resisting the supreme is this; because they are joined with him as associates in the government, and God has committed the defence of the people to them in their order; by virtue of which commission, they are to defend them against the supreme magistrate himself, if a tyrant, as well as against any other: forasmuch as being intrusted with the people’s defence, it matters not who the persons are, against whom they are to be defended.
But to this the answer is ready, by a positive denial of that
false and base principle, that the inferior magistrates are associates with the
supreme; and that God immediately commissions them to govern and defend the people.
For they are not the prince’s associates, but his instruments in government, and
have no power but what they receive immediately from him: and that he who acts by
authority from another, cannot by that authority act against him,
It would be too long particularly to insist upon his other reasons to this purpose; I shall reduce them therefore to general heads, annexing to each their respective solutions.
(1.) He argues from several scripture instances; as Ehud killing Eglon, and Jehu killing Joram.
(2.) From many instances of the heathens; as the Romans deposing Tarquinius.
(3.) From several speeches of princes, acknowledging a kind of dependence upon, and an accountableness to their people. To which I answer,
1. For those scripture instances and examples, that most of them are set down without any approbation or disapprobation, but only by a bare historical narration; and withal, that the honesty of the person does not legalize every one of his actions. And perhaps it can no more be said, that to depose or kill a prince is just, because Ehud and Jehu did it, than, because David left Solomon in charge to revenge an old injury upon Shimei, a man may nowadays, having pardoned an injury, yet justly cause his son to revenge it. Add to this, that those persons are said to have done what they did by an especial commission or warrant from God; which men nowadays cannot pretend to.
2. In the next place, to his allegation of the example of the Romans, I answer, that it was unlawful, and that to use it here is to prove the lawfulness of one rebellion by another.
3. And for those several speeches and concessions of princes,
acknowledging their right at the people’s dispose, I answer, that we are not to
judge of the
If the prince shall offer violence to the subject, as a tyrant, murderer, or adulterer, and there is no help to be had from any inferior magistrate, then it is lawful for every private man to defend himself vi et armis, as from a common thief or murderer.
This is wholesome divinity indeed; and it was not to be doubted, but that the former assertion would in the end produce this.
His reasons for it are these two.
(1.) Because what the inferior magistrates may do, that every private man may do in his own behalf, in a case of necessity. The consequence, I confess, is good, and therefore grant this to be just as lawful as I have already proved the former; that is, indeed, absolutely wicked and unlawful.
(2.) Because otherwise God would have put it into the power of
the magistrate to destroy the commonwealth. To this I answer, 1. That the magistrate
is but a particular man, and therefore cannot effect such a thing by himself, but
by the assistance of others, against whom some are of opinion that the subjects
may defend themselves. As amongst us, let any man rob or injure us, and although
he be ever
And thus I think I have answered Paraeus’s discourse, in which
he sets himself as a bold arbitrator between the prince and the subject, so stating
the privileges of one, as utterly to subvert the prerogative of the other. The usual
patrons of this doctrine against princes are the Jesuits, who are properly the pope’s
janizaries; and those of the presbytery, whether
II. The next case that comes to be resolved, according to the order proposed by us, is,
Whether it can be lawful for one particular man to make war upon another in those encounters which we commonly call duels?
A duel, called by the Greeks μονομαχία, and by the Latins duellum, receiving its denomination from the persons engaged in it, is properly a fight or combat between two persons, mutually undertook, appointed, and consented to, by each of them.
That the action is not a thing in itself absolutely unlawful is apparent, because otherwise it could not be lawful for two men, meeting in a battle, to fight one with another; nor for one man to fight for the defence of his life, with the murderer that assaults him. Since therefore this falls within the number of those actions, which, being indifferent in their nature, come to be stamped lawful or unlawful by their principles and circumstances, and other determining ingredients of action, we are to inquire when it is to be allowed, when not. In which inquiry we shall set down,
1. The cases in which a duel is lawful.
2. The cases in which it is impious, unlawful, and utterly to be disallowed.
(1.) First of all then, when two malefactors stand convict, and
condemned to die, and the magistrate appoints them to fight singly; in which fight
he that overcomes shall have his life: in this case it is lawful for persons so
condemned to accept of such a fight. The reason is, because on either side it is
only a mutual
(2.) When two armies are drawn out to fight, and the decision of the battle is cast upon a single combat, it is lawful for any two persons, upon the appointment of the generals, to undertake such a combat; the reason is, because it is allowable for soldiers under command to obey their generals in all things not apparently unjust: and a general has full power to draw out as much or as little of his army to fight, as he shall judge most conducible for the success; there being no ground to conclude, why he may not as well command one single soldier, as one regiment or body of men, to fight, how and when he shall judge fit. Besides the convenience of this course, that it is a compendium of war, and a redemption of the lives of thousands by the death of one, bringing all the advantages of a conquest, without the dismal miseries of a battle.
(3.) When one challenges another, and resolves immediately to kill the challenged person, unless he accepts the combat, it is then lawful for him to accept it; forasmuch as this is nothing else but a repelling of force by force, and so is resolved into pure self-preservation: which shall be considered of by itself afterwards.
But a case may be here propounded: Suppose one should accuse another for his life falsely, offering to verify his accusation by single fight, and the judge should declare that he would proceed to the sentence immediately, unless the person so accused would undertake thus to fight with his accuser in single combat.
In answer to this, some affirm that the accused person may lawfully accept the challenge, it seeming to be equally a repelling of force, and the result much the same, whether the accuser endeavours to kill the accused by his own hand, or by the unjust sentence of the judge.
But, with submission to better judgments, I conceive that it is not lawful for him in this case to accept the combat, the instances propounded being not indeed the same; for in one the danger is from the sentence of the judge, which, however unjust, a man is bound to submit to; in the other, the danger is from the force of a private person, which no man is obliged to submit to, but has a natural right to repel.
And if it be replied, that such an one is necessitated to fight with his challenger in his own defence, for that otherwise he must die; I answer, that this very thing implies, that the necessity or compulsion is not absolute, but only conditional, unless he will submit to death; which of the two he is rather to choose, than to commit a sin.
For the man is under a judicial process, and so has no right to
defend himself by force: neither matters it to say, that the judge, by his permission
or command, gives him a right; for the judge, by commanding or permitting him so
to defend himself, unjustly balks his own duty, which would oblige him to decide
the case of the innocent another way; and the judge’s going against his duty, by
an unjust command, cannot give any man a right to do according to that command.
If the man is condemned, and dies, he suffers; but if he fights with his accuser,
when the law ought to deliver him, he acts, and that
The sum of this case is, that a man, under the forementioned condition, is bound rather to die by an unjust sentence, than to take an undue course for his vindication.
2. I come now to shew those cases in which duels are to be judged utterly unlawful.
(1.) As first, when they are undertook for vain ostentation, and
that either of affection to the dead; as it was the custom of the Romans heretofore,
upon the death of some commander or great man, for some soldiers voluntarily to
undertake a single fight at the funeral solemnities, and to kill one another, as
it were, by way of sacrifice, in honour of the dead; by that, declaring their loss
so great, that they had no will to survive them. It was a custom also, for ostentation
of strength and valour at their public sights and shows, for persons to entertain
the spectators with duels, and to die like fools, to please they knew not whom;
till at length this wretched custom so prevailed, that some would hire themselves
at the Praetorian shows, to fight thus in single combat, as men are nowadays hired
to act upon the stage; and these were called gladiators, a term that grew
to as great ignominy amongst the Romans, as thief or cutter is amongst
us. I suppose I need not take any pains to prove the unlawfulness, nay, the sottishness
of such duellings, where men sold their lives for a crown or an angel; and by a
preposterous way of labouring, earned wages, not to get their living, but
(2.) Another case in which men used to undertake single combats, was for the cleansing of themselves from some crime objected to them; which must needs be unlawful and highly irrational, as being a means no ways suited in its nature to such a purpose; and withal a bold presumption upon Providence, that any one, without any warrant from the revealed will of God, should presume that he must determine the success on the right side. For the ridiculous unreasonableness of it, besides the demonstrations of experience, that the guilty has frequently killed the innocent, it is further evident, from the very nature of the thing: for is there any natural inference, from a man’s strength or success, to his innocence? or is it any argument, that the man did not steal another’s goods, or defile his bed, because he had better skill at his weapon than his accuser, and so slew him? I should both abuse my own labour and your patience, should I endeavour to beat down this senseless custom by any further confutation.
(3.) A third case is, when two agree upon a single combat, for
the decision of the right of possessing
For in every doubtful case, there is yet a right on one side; and where there is a right, there a right may be proved: the proving of which belongs to the law, and the courts of justice; and he that seeks for law from his rapier, which he should seek from the judge, deserves to have his person instead of his case brought to the bar. No man has a right or power to choose the way of having his right tried, by any course not prescribed or permitted by the law.
He indeed whose right the thing is, may possess and defend it against him who is pleased to doubt of the other’s right; and in the defence of it may lawfully kill him in his unjust and violent invasion: but yet he may not voluntarily and by choice cast the deciding of his questioned right upon the issues of a single combat, a thing otherwise disallowed. The reason is, because though every man is master of his own right, yet he is not master of the way by which that right is to be tried; that being by all laws took out of private hands, and vested in the person of a public judge.
And to what purpose are courts open, and tribunals erected, if causes must be tried in the field, and inheritances conveyed by the decrees of a lawless combat and a contingent conquest?
(4.) The fourth and grand case is, when a duel is undertaken either
for revenge of some injury done, or for vindication of a man’s honour, upon the
account
The upshot of the dispute is, God by his providence, for the trial
of a man’s sincerity, and his obedience to the divine law, calls him to an act of
duty, beset with high dissuasives, grim circumstances, and great discouragements.
So that the
Besides, that which is here supposed, which is loss of honour, is indeed no such thing: the measure of honour, is the judgment of the knowing, and the pious, and the virtuous, who will value and applaud the passive magnanimity of such an one, that durst look a duty in the face, in spite of scorn, and conquer the scoffs of the world, of which the most reputed for valour are afraid. All that he loses is the opinion of those who rate honour by a false rule, and measure glory by the standard of their own ignorance, vanity, and rashness: and the same persons who condemn him for this, would slight him as much for not talking obscenely, not scoffing at religion, and whatsoever is sacred, and for not drinking himself to the condition of a barrel or a spunge; or not rapping out such hideous oaths, as might even provoke divine justice to revenge the impiety of them upon a place or a nation. Those indeed who look upon the not doing of these things as pedantry, would, no question, account all refusal of a duel poorness and pusillanimity.
It was a wise, a prudent, and indeed a valiant answer of a certain commander, who being challenged by one of his enemies to a duel, told him, that he would meet him in the head of the enemy; which to a soldier was the true opportunity of fortitude, because indeed the scene of duty.
But he that has not the courage to puff at all popular surmises, and to esteem himself superior to the riots and mistakes of hectors; but by a foolish facility appears and ventures his life at the word and challenge of a furious sot, whose life is not worth the keeping, falls ingloriously, and descends to his grave with the burial of an ass; shame is his windingsheet, and the solemnity of his funeral, the reprehension of the wise, the pity of the good, and the laughter of his companions; who can make sport at the loss of a soul, and the miseries of damnation.
And thus I have shewn the several cases in which duels are unlawful; and I suppose I preach to an auditory that needs no other argument against them, than the demonstration of their unlawfulness; yet since other arguments there are, I think a truth cannot be too much confirmed.
1. And amongst these, the judgment of men generally condemning
them is no contemptible one. I have already observed what an ignominious name the
name of gladiator was amongst the heathen Romans: and in the laws of the
Lombards, even while they permitted the use of those duels, they branded them with
a mark of infamy. Incerti sumus de judicio Dei, et multos audivimus
per pugnam sine justa causa suam causam perdere. Sed propter consuetudinem gentis
nostrae Longobardorum legem impiam vetare non possumus. They called it
an impious law, even while they suffered it to continue; and declared that they
did so, because the corruption and vice of the nation was too strong for them, and
beyond the control of remedies. The canon law, even to those that died in justs
or tiltings,
2. But the second and chief argument shall be taken from the wretched consequences of the thing itself; which are twofold:
(1.) Such as attend the conquered person.
(2.) Such as attend the conqueror.
As for the conquered person, he is sure of these two evils.
(1.) A disastrous death. And surely it ought to be a very great gain that is to counterbalance the loss of life; something more than the reputation of not giving the wall, not enduring a slighting word or a trivial disrespect; which might otherwise have been confuted by silence, conquered by contempt, and outlived by the next hour.
But now all the labour and expense of a man’s former education,
all the hopes and usefulness of his
It is a sad thing for any hopeful man, in the vigour of his years, to be carried off by a plague or a fever, or an unfortunate accident; but still all that is uncomfortable in these is, that the man is dead; but there is no criminal circumstance, from the manner of his death, to embitter his remembrance: he did not die by a sin, or by any thing that might stain his surviving name or endanger his future condition. It was the action of Providence, which piety will, and mortality must submit to.
But he that dies in a duel, so falls to the earth, that it is to be feared he falls much lower; and that the iron enters deeper into his soul than into his body, and kills much further than it reaches. And this introduces the other fatal consequence which attends the person thus vanquished, and that is,
(2.) Death eternal. When two persons come into the field upon such an expedition, they defy one another, they defy the laws both of God and man, and they defy hell: their business is, which shall send the other to that place of misery first. For certainly whosoever quits the body with the marks of murder and revenge fresh upon his soul, and passes from his conquering adversary to his dreadful Judge, shall in that world be condemned for a murderer, though it was his ill hap to be murdered in this.
Nay, there will lie a double charge of murder upon him: namely,
for being both the unjust occasion of his own death, and the designer of his adversary’s:
I neither will nor dare pronounce any thing in limitation of the extent of God’s mercy; but this I shall say, that according to the standing rule and tenor of God’s revealed will, he that dies in a duel undertook upon an unjust cause, affords no ground for any one to judge that he is saved: for he dies in his sin, directing his sword to his brother’s heart; so that there is nothing but his last breath passing between his murderous intention and the final giving up of his accounts to God; before whom he has no other cause to allege for his dying in this manner, but that he was proud, passionate, or revengeful; sad qualifications to recommend a man to the tribunal of such a Judge.
We have seen here the miserable consequences that befall the conquered dueller. Let us now, in the next place, take a survey of those that befall the conqueror: and these also are three.
(1.) In case he is apprehended: the law has provided that for
him which he did for his adversary,
(2.) But secondly, suppose that he escapes by flight; yet then he quits his country, and lives a banished man, and like Cain, having murdered his brother, he presently betakes himself to wander about the world, leaving behind him the confiscation of his goods, a family lamenting, and perhaps starving; and some of them peradventure dying for grief, and so feeling the murderous influence of his action as really, though not in the same manner, as his slain adversary.
Surely these will be sad accidents to a man in cold blood, when the fury of his passion, which abused his reason, and represented revenge so pleasant, shall be over, and transmit the thing naked to his recovered judgment, to be considered according to its real aspect and all its sharp events.
By this time, undoubtedly, he will see how much better it had been for him to have kept himself quiet and innocent in the peaceable enjoyment of his friends, his estate, and country; than to wander as an indigent murderer in a strange land, from whence the sense of his guilt, the severity of the laws, and the exasperation of the murdered person’s friends, ready to prosecute those laws against him, continually terrify him from all thoughts of a return.
(3.) But, in the third and last place, we will suppose the man to have better fortune: that he has fought and killed his adversary, and so satisfied his revenge; and moreover, that through the intercession of great friends, willing to share his guilt, and to derive some of the blood upon their own heads, he has not by flight escaped, but by a full acquitment outbraved justice, and triumphed over the law, and so stands secure as to all temporal retribution. But still, after all this, may we not ask concerning such an one, is all well within? How fares it with him in the court of conscience? Is he able to keep off the grim arrests of that? Can he drown the cry of blood, and bribe his own thoughts to let him alone? Can he fray off the vulture from his breast, that night and day is gnawing his heart, and wounding it with ghastly and amazing reflections?
Whether it is, that God has done it for the defence of men’s lives, or whether it is the unnaturalness of the sin, or whatsoever else may be the cause, certain it is, that there is nothing which dogs the conscience so incessantly, fastens upon it so closely, and tears it so furiously, as the dismal sense of blood-guiltiness.
The man perhaps endeavours to be merry, he goes about his business,
he enjoys his cups and his jolly company: and possibly, if he fought for revenge,
he is applauded and “admired by some; if he fought for a mistress, he is smiled
upon for a day. But when, in the midst of all his gaieties, his conscience shall
come and round him in the ear: Sir, you are to remember that you have murdered a
man, and what is more, you have murdered a soul; you have sacrificed an immortal
nature, the image
Now when these reasonings shall be joined with the considerations of the divine justice, and the retributions that Heaven reserves for blood; these sad reckonings, that are in store for the successful acquitted murderer: believe it, where these thoughts shall lay hold of the conscience, they will leave their marks behind them.
But if the man feels none of these stings or remorses, his condition is infinitely worse: he is sealed up under a spirit of searedness, and reprobation, and an invincible curse. And it is a sign that God intends him not the grace of repentance, perhaps for denying his brother the opportunities of it, by a sudden death; and sending him out of the world in such a condition, that it were ten thousand times better for himself never to have come into the world, than that he should leave it under the like.
I have nothing more to say concerning such a person, but that his sin has put him into such an estate, that, living or dying, he is unavoidably miserable.
If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.
YOU may remember that the second particular laid down for the prosecution of these words, was to assign the measures and proportions by which the duty of living peaceably was to be determined: which I shewed were contained within the bounds of lawful.
In my inquiries into which, I undertook the resolution of several cases. As, concerning the lawfulness of war; of keeping or breaking the peace with the magistrate; as also of duels. All which I have already finished; so that there remain only two more to be discussed. One of which is,
Whether it be lawful to repel force by force, so as to kill another in one’s own defence?
The matter of which question is very different from that about duels. For a duel is a fight freely and voluntarily undertook by the offer of one party, and the acceptance of the other. But this is a sudden, a violent, and unforeseen assault, in respect of him that is assaulted: who thereupon enters not into combat upon any precedent choice or deliberate appointment; but upon the sudden alarms of force and necessity, and the compulsions of an extreme danger.
In which condition we are to suppose the man cut off from all possibility of flying, shut up from all succour by a rescue, or remedy by the law; but drove into those straits, both of place, time, and all other circumstances, that all evasion is rendered desperate and impossible, but through the blood of his adversary.
In this case I affirm it to be lawful for a man to save himself by destroying his enemy, and that upon these two reasons.
1. The first taken from that which we have already insisted upon; the great natural right of self-preservation: which right is as full in particular persons as in public bodies. It is the very firstborn of all the rudiments of nature; and the very ground and reason of its actions; not instilled by precept, but suggested by instinct. A man is no more instructed to this, than he is to be an hungry or thirsty, when nature wants its due refection. And that as to this particular the rights of nature are not abridged by Christian religion, will appear from the
Second argument, taken from that place where Christ commands his disciples to provide themselves swords: but to have allowed them the instruments of defence, and at the same time to have forbid the use of them as unlawful, had been highly irrational. I suppose Christ did not command those poor fishermen to wear swords for ornament only, as men do nowadays; but that he might countenance them in the management of their own preservation, amidst those many unjust violences and assaults, that were likely enough to attend men odious to the world for the promulgation of severe truths.
Add to this the suffrage of the civil law, where the code in the Cornelian law de Sicariis utters itself thus: Is qui aggressorem vel quemcunque alium in dubio vitae discrimine constitutus occiderit, nullam ob id factum calumniam metuere debet. And further, in the Aquilian law, to the same purpose: Vim vi repellere omnes leges omniaque jura permittunt.
So that we have seen the verdict of nature, of Christ, and of the civil law, in the present case; and he whom these absolve is a just and an innocent person, whatsoever other law may condemn him.
Yet since nature, in the present corruption of mankind, is weak and dark, and so apt to misjudge of the necessity of self-defence; oftentimes making that to be so, which indeed is nothing else but an unnecessary fear or a sinful revenge; it being a very easy thing to clothe an unlawful action or design with a lawful name: therefore it concerns us so to assert the privilege, as to take off the danger; and this will be done by stating it under its due limitations.
In order to which, I shall endeavour to clear these three inquiries.
1st, What are those things, for the necessary defence of which it may be lawful to kill the unjust invader?
2dly, What are the conditions required to render that defence lawful?
3dly, Who are the persons against whom we may justly manage such a defence?
And first for the things that may be thus defended.
1. The first is life; the eminent and certain
For can we think that a pompous burial or a fine tomb will make the dead any amends, or to have a few mournful words spoken of him for fashion-sake, as, that he was an excellent person, and that it was a loss to the public that he should be snatched away by such a disaster; which words, being dead, he cannot hear; and if alive, perhaps would not much regard.
But all this while the man continues the portion of worms and rottenness, and the great injury of death maintains its full effect upon him. All after-honours and commemorations being but like the serving up of a banquet to a grave, or like the ceremony of courtship and compliment to the cold flints and the insensible rocks.
2. When a man is in imminent danger of the mutilation of a leg
or an arm, or the like, it is lawful to prevent the loss of either by the death
of the assailant. For who knows but the loss of a part
The man perhaps in the issue of the conflict may lose but a finger, but thereupon his hand may gangrene, and then his arm, and from thence the mischief reach his heart: or he may receive but a blow only, which blow may sow the seeds of death in his body, in an imposthume, which shall grow and prevail, and at length break, and bear him to his grave. In which case there is no doubt but the man is murdered, though it be ten years before he dies, as truly as if he had breathed his last the very next minute. For he murders a man, who gives him a hurt, upon which death certainly and irrecoverably follows, whatsoever the time of it chance to be. The cause may have its effect, be the distance of time or place what it will, so long as it reaches it by the connection of a certain influence. And he that pulls one end of the chain, moves the remotest link of it as surely, as if he did it by an immediate touch.
But suppose that death should not follow upon the loss of a limb,
and moreover (which is yet impossible) that the assaulted person knew so much, yet
nature no less dictates the preservation of every part; it being as natural to a
man to be entire and perfect, as to be, and to have all his limbs, as any one of
them. Besides that it is often worse than death itself to live with the deformities
and pains of a shattered, mangled body; as a burden to one’s self, and a contempt
to others. From which miseries there are few, but, were it in their power,
3. When a person’s chastity is invaded by force, it is granted on all hands to be lawful to kill the person that invades it. For this is as irreparable as life itself; it is lost but once, and if it should come in competition with life, it would be judged more valuable. Upon which ground, Tamar, had she had strength and courage enough, might have saved her brother Absalom the labour of killing Amnon, and prevented an unjust revenge by a just defence.
To lose one’s life is indeed a misery, but it is no dishonour; but the ravished person is dishonoured, her glory stained, and the lustre of that reputation by which she lives and stands accepted in the world, is blasted for ever.
I know no parent, who deserves to be a parent, who had not rather see a child dead, than defloured. Virginius rescued his daughter from the lust and violence of Appius Clodius the decemvir, by stabbing her dead with his own hand. I am not concerned to warrant his action; but surely it argues the value that the very heathen put upon their chastity, when the very design against it was thought fit to be prevented by the death of the innocent, and to be revenged upon the nocent, even to the subversion of a government.
4. In the fourth place, as for the preservation of estate or goods, the case admits of some more doubt. And there are opinions both for the affirmative and the negative.
Those who hold the negative argue,
First, From the law of Moses, which, in
Of which difference, these two reasons are alleged.
(1.) Because it cannot be distinguished in the night, whether he comes barely to steal or to murder also; and therefore it is lawful to kill him, not considered merely as a thief, but upon just suspicion that he might come as a murderer.
(2.) Because goods taken away in the night leave the person robbed destitute of all means by which to discover the robber, and consequently of all legal means by which to recover what he had lost.
Ans. This is true, and upon the strength of this very ground
I answer this argument brought from the Mosaic law, by affirming, that howsoever
the letter runs, yet the design of that law was not to make every killing of a thief
in the day-time murder, but that usually and ordinarily it was to be accounted so.
For since the law makes it lawful to kill a thief in the night, because at that
time all people being usually disposed to their rest, it supposes that there are
no witnesses present, by whose means the injured man might have right against him
at law: but unlawful to kill him in the day, because then it supposes that there
may be witnesses, as for the most part there are. Yet since sometimes it so falls
out, that there neither are nor can be any; it will follow, by analogy of reason,
that a man under such circumstances is permitted to deal
(2.) In the second place, some argue against the lawfulness of killing a robber for the preservation of our goods, from the tenor of the gospel, and the design of Christian religion; which bids the professors of it despise and trample upon these temporal things, and therefore certainly permits them not to prevent the loss of them with the blood of any one who should presume to take them. To this I answer, that the gospel commands us only to despise these things comparatively, in reference to spiritual and eternal felicities. Otherwise if the words be understood absolutely, it could not be lawful for us so much as to defend our lives; since some texts in the letter of them command us no less to despise these, than those other enjoyments.
I conclude therefore for the affirmative, that it is lawful for a man to defend his estate and goods against an unjust force, even with the death of him who offers that force, if they cannot be retained and possessed otherwise.
The reason is, because they are the means and support of life, and therefore are to be reckoned in the same account with life itself. If one should say, that it were lawful for a man to knock him on the head, that should offer to batter down his house to the ground before his face; but that he was by no means to touch him, in case he only took away the chief pillar, upon which the house leaned; notwithstanding that upon the removal of that pillar it must fall as unavoidably as if it were pulled down: surely such a distinction were grossly absurd and ridiculous.
The case is the same here. Neither does that reply take off the argument, that a man may live though his estate be lost, as by labour, charity, or the getting of another. For this is accidental, and it may fall out otherwise. And every man is to look upon what he possesses as his only subsistence; since he is not certain, upon the loss of it, to have any other: nay, he is certain that at the present he has none; nor is like to have any for the future, unless some accident or opportunity of a livelihood offers itself, which he is not to suppose or build upon, it being wholly uncertain and contingent; especially, so as to take him off from his dependence upon that which is certain and present.
Should a man put his whole estate into a jewel; either for concealment of his estate, as being otherwise in danger, or for some other advantage or convenience; and should be set upon for it by a thief upon the road, so that, all hope of rescue being out of the way, there remained no other means to preserve it but by killing the robber upon the place; I must confess, I can see no solid reason, why he might not do justice upon him, and right to himself, by sending him out of the world, with his blood upon his own head. If any excellent and pious persons have chose to do otherwise, the thief was beholden to them; and they have only quitted their own right, which lays no injunction at all upon others to quit theirs.
For if a man sets upon me in the highway to kill me, all grant
that I may in my own defence kill him; but if he would only take my money, that,
it seems, I must relinquish by any means rather than take his life. But let the
reason of the difference be assigned.
Neither is that further exception of any moment, that there is no proportion in point of value between the loss of money and the loss of a life. For in the present case my money, compared to my enemy’s life, is not to be considered barely as such a sum of money, but as it is the necessary support of my life: so that really, and in effect, the comparison is between his life and mine; in which I conclude myself warranted, by the rights and laws of nature, to prefer my own before his. Nay, if it were but a sixpence that he would rifle me of, and I had no other visible subsistence in the world but that poor sum, I might lawfully defend that, as I would myself, that is, with the death of my enemy; and count it as equal a stake against his life, as if it were ten thousand millions.
And thus I have shewn those four things which it is lawful for
a man thus to defend; namely, life, limbs, chastity, and estate: where, before I
pass any further, I shall add this, that whatsoever it is lawful for a man to do
in these cases for himself, the
Which yet, by the way, is to be understood under equal cases and circumstances; for though we are commanded to love our neighbour as ourselves, yet it follows not, but when the danger must inevitably fall upon one of us, we may preserve ourselves before our neighbour; because, in the same condition, we are bound to desire no more for ourselves, but that our neighbour should save us in the next place to himself; and therefore, by virtue of this precept, he can desire no more of us. In a word, we are to love our neighbour as ourselves, putting him into the same condition and circumstances in reference to us, as we are in reference to him: and therefore, as I myself could not in reason desire, but that my neighbour, in a danger equal to us both, should first defend himself; so my neighbour cannot deny, but that I should do as much for myself under this condition, as I allow him to do for himself under the same. But this by way of digression.
Certain it is, that the defence of our neighbour in his extremity
engages us to all those extraordinary courses that we took for our own preservation.
Upon this account it was, that Abraham armed his household, and slew kings for the
rescue of -\his kinsman Lot, took captive by them,
2dly, I come now to the second thing, which is, to shew the conditions required to legalize such a defence of ourselves and fortunes. And they are these.
(1.) That the violence offered be so apparent, and withal so great
and pressing, that there can be no other means of escaping it, but by killing the
adversary: otherwise, if a man makes it great by his own presumptions and fears,
and so makes it necessary
That which must warrant a man in this before God and his conscience, must be a danger as manifest as the light; a life even perishing, and in the very jaws of death: not an hazard that may be disputed, but an extremity that calls and cries, and admits of no answer but an immediate deliverance. And if in this case a life be taken away, he only is a murderer that deserved, not he that inflicted the blow.
(2.) It is required, that all possibility of recourse to the magistrate
for a legal protection be taken away. In which case the law leaves every man to
his own natural defence. For men are not made for laws, but laws for the good and
preservation of men: and therefore, though they enjoin the injured person to fly
to them for succour, yet, when he is surrounded with such circumstances as render
But, as I observed before, war is a remedy upon the failure of law. And when the supreme and fatal law of necessity comes to be in force, all inferior obligations disband and vanish: and the law that tells a man that no particular person’s injury can take from him his right to live, ought to take place, and both to direct him what he is to do in this affair, and to absolve him when he has done.
(3.) In the third place, it is required that a man in the act of defending himself designs merely his own defence, without any hatred or bitter purpose of revenge towards the person who thus invades him. A lawful action may be depraved and changed by the intervenience of an ill intention. Jehu executed the command of God in extirpating the house of Ahab, and consequently that action of his was lawful; but yet we find that the same action was reckoned to him for sin, because a particular malice and design against Ahab’s house mingled with it, and so altered the whole complexion of the performance.
To discern whether a man in these defensive conflicts be acted
by a purpose of self-defence, pure and unmixed from any spice of revenge, I confess
is very difficult, in case the assault shall be continued till it determines in
the death of one party. But if the defendant chance to prevail over the assailant
to
And thus much for the second thing, namely, to shew the conditions required to render the killing of another in our own defence lawful
3dly, The third, which I shall despatch in a word or two, is to inquire who are the persons against whom we may lawfully thus defend ourselves. And for this, I cannot conceive that any doubt can be raised, but concerning these two, a magistrate and a parent. As for the magistrate, the grounds that I have already laid of non-resistance, by virtue of every subject’s quitting his natural right of defending himself against the magistrate, and resigning up all power of resistance into his governor’s hands, sufficiently proves, that this doctrine gives no countenance to the subject in repelling any invasion made upon him by his prince.
But as for a parent; the son has made no such resignation of his
right up to him. And therefore there are not wanting some casuists among the Jesuits,
who have ventured to own the lawfulness of a man’s defending himself against parents
as well as kings, and all superiors whatsoever; even with the death of those who
shall invade him. But yet I affirm, that for a son in any case whatsoever to take
away his father’s life, from whence, under God, he
And thus I have endeavoured both to clear and to assert the doctrine of self-defence in its due latitude. In all which discourse I am not sensible that I have uttered any thing but the voice of nature, and the rightly explained sense of religion.
As for those who assert the contrary, and by taking from mankind all right of self-preservation, would have them still live in the world as naked as they came into it; I shall not wish them any hurt, but if I would, I could scarce wish them a greater, than that they might feel the full effect and influence of their own opinion.
IV. The fourth and last case to be resolved is; Since to prosecute another in courts of judicature is in its kind a certain breach of the mutual bond of peace, whether it be allowable for Christians thus to prosecute and to go to law one with another?
It may perhaps, at first sight, seem a strange and an insolent
design, to bring a thing vouched by custom, owned by practice, and established by
authority, under dispute: yet since it is no less our duty
As for those who have been so bold as to arraign the courts of law themselves, they are the anabaptists; who succeed into all the principles and opinions of the old anabaptists, those sons of confusion, that once so infested Germany: concerning the nature of whose opinions I cannot but judge this, that those who own a design to remove and cast down all human laws and judgments, ought to be persons either absolutely, and even to a necessity innocent, or very highly malefactors; the former of which might oppose them as needless; the latter, as dreadful and destructive. As for their innocence; the stories of their barbarous 1 rebellions, murders, and the desolations made by them, have settled men’s judgments concerning that. And therefore, if their opinions grow from their guilt, in conjunction with their ignorance; as it cannot appear from what root else they should grow; I shall endeavour to remove the latter, leaving the laws themselves to deal with the former.
In the management of this question, I shall, 1. Examine the arguments brought against the allowableness of Christians going to law. 2. Consider what may be argued and alleged for it. 3. Propose the conditions required to warrant men in such a practice.
1. First of all then, their arguments seem principally to bear upon two places of scripture.
(1.) The first is, that formerly hinted by me, and reserved to
be discussed in its proper place here, which is in
In answer to this, I cannot but observe, that it is the custom of this sort of men still to argue from the letter of scripture, in abstraction from the sense; and without any pondering either of the occasion, circumstances, or coherence of the text, immediately to fly and fasten upon the bare outside of the expression.
Two things, therefore, may be answered to this text.
1. That it is not certain, that what we render by suing at
law signifies any such thing; the Greek is
It is more probable therefore, that the sense of the text is this; If any one would unjustly contend with thee, and forcibly take away thy cloak, let him have thy coat also. According to which sense, the words speak nothing at all of the suits or trials at law. And this interpretation, grounded upon the propriety of the word, and so fully agreeing both with what goes before, and with what follows after, if any one will positively insist upon it, I do verily believe, cannot by any solid reason be disproved.
2. But because I think such respect is to be had to the translation, that it is not, but upon very urgent necessity, to be receded from; therefore, in the second place, I add,
That these words are to be interpreted with analogy to the design carried on by Christ throughout this whole chapter, which is, to shew the perverse and sinful practice of the Jews, in which they were abetted by the pharisees; and withal to declare, of how much contrary a temper his disciples and followers ought to be.
Now the custom of the Jews was, upon the receiving any injury, to pursue that law of retaliation so fiercely and bitterly, that sometimes (as I have observed before) one private man would execute it upon another; and when they could not safely or conveniently do it themselves, but were forced to implore the help of the magistrate, and to drag the injurious person before him; yet they did it with so much acrimony and gall, and such designs of personal revenge, that it sufficiently appeared to any impartial or judicious eye, that in all their prosecutions of offenders they did not so much consult either the satisfaction of justice, or their own necessary reparation, as indeed seldom needing any at all, as they did the fruitless gratification of a remorseless, vindictive humour.
Hereupon Christ reads a contrary lecture of patience, meekness,
and quietness to his disciples, telling them, that in case they should have any
thing injuriously purloined from them, they should rather sit down under the loss
of that and a much greater thing too, than with so much virulence and exasperation
of mind, as was common amongst the Jews, and unreprehended, not to say countenanced
by the pharisees, pursue the recovery of their former right. These words therefore
do not absolutely prohibit them, being injured, to endeavour a just reparation;
They are a sublime precept of patience, upon a wrong offered to our goods, parallel to those words, If any one smite thee on the right cheek, turn the other also; which enjoins the same measure of patience upon a wrong offered to our persons. And consequently, as heretofore, in the exposition of those, I shewed from Christ’s own practice, the best comment upon his precepts, that they were not to be understood according to the rigid import of the letter, as if every man were bound to covet injuries and to court affronts; so I affirm also, that this command is not to be exacted according to the bare surface of the words, but to be enlarged to the allowance and latitude of a figure, as being indeed just such another hyperbole. Which is a trope, that to set forth the greatness of a thing more emphatically, words it in expressions greater than really it is. And thus much in answer to what they argue from this place of scripture.
(2.) The next great place, which some think to speak as fully
to their purpose as this, is that in
But to this I answer,
1. That what we render a fault, is in the Greek
2. But in the second place, admitting that the apostle’s design
here is to discountenance this practice, not only as weak and illaudable, but also
as sinful and disallowable; yet I affirm, that he accounted it not sinful from the
very nature of the action, but only the irregularity of the circumstance; that they
went to law upon every slight occasion, before unbelievers, in
In short, the apostle here either reprehends them only for going
to law before unbelievers, or barely for going to law, as being a thing utterly
unjust in itself. If he designs only the former, as it is clear from the whole chain
of the context from the first verse to the ninth that he does; then it concludes
nothing against the latter, but that before a believing judge, and a Christian court,
with a due observance of other circumstances, Christians may right themselves at
law. But if it be said, that the apostle directs
The only thing that can be replied here, is, that in those primitive
times of Christianity, the Christians had no tribunals or power of judging, as being
under the jurisdiction of heathen potentates: and therefore what they did in order
to the deciding of controversies and suits between man and man, they did not do
as judges armed with the civil power, but as arbitrators chose and consented to
amongst themselves, for the ending and composing of differences.
But to this I answer; that this is so far from overthrowing or weakening the thing which it is brought to disprove, that it is a notable argument to confirm it: for if the apostles allowed it as lawful for them to bring their causes before Christians, that they might exercise a judicial act in deciding them, who yet were not endued with any legal, judicial authority from the magistrate; certainly it were highly strange and irrational, to prohibit men to seek for the same judicial acts, from such as were both Christians, and also empowered with such a judicial authority from the civil governor. In a word, it would amount to this; that Christians might try their causes before Christians, not having any legal jurisdiction for that purpose, but only the consent of the contending parties. But when the same persons come to have the stamp of public authority, enabling them so to do by virtue of their office; why then, all trials before them must presently cease to be lawful, and become only a betraying of the rights and privileges of believers. I shall say no more of this wild and inconsequent deduction, but that it is an argument fit to be found only in the mouth of those, whose custom it is to dispute against reason, and to fight against government.
3. The third argument against the allowableness of Christians
going to law, is that strict command that lies upon them to forgive injuries, and
consequently not to prosecute them in courts of judicature,
But to this also I reply, that in most injuries we are to consider and distinguish two things: first, The right that is lost. Secondly, The offence done to whom it is lost. And though it may be my duty to forgive the offence done me by him that violently takes away my right; yet it follows not that I must therefore quit my right; but may, with full allowance of equity and piety, endeavour the regaining of that, while I fully remit the other.
And that this is not a mere verbal distinction without a difference, is evident from hence: that supposing that somebody robs me of my goods, and I recover them all to the value of the utmost farthing; yet still after this recovery it is certain that the man has done me an injury, and reason and religion will oblige him to ask me forgiveness; which it could not do, supposing that the wrong did not continue, even after I was repossessed of what I had lost.
It is clear therefore, that the prosecution of one’s right at law does yet leave a fair scope for the exercise of forgiveness; and consequently that they may not exclude or justle out one another.
I cannot think of any thing else in scripture that seems to cast any probability of favour upon this opinion: and therefore looking upon the proof of it as desperate upon this account, I proceed to the second thing; which is to shew what may be argued for the allowableness of Christians prosecuting their rights in courts of judicature.
But beforehand I shall premise this: That the ground upon which
all such prosecutions proceed
To this I answer; that his obligation and subjection to the community, of which he is a member, engages him to this. For every man is bound to endeavour the good and preservation of the public, and consequently to prosecute a thief or a murderer, though personally they have not injured him, forasmuch as such persons have made a breach upon society and common justice; which requires a reparation: yea, and that so strictly, that if a man is robbed, though, being master of his own right, he might choose whether upon that score he would prosecute him for such robbery; yet since by the same there is an injury done to the public, which he cannot pardon, the law binds him to prosecute the robber; and makes him liable to be prosecuted himself, in case he should not. I conclude therefore, that all these prosecutions of a man in the courts of law are just and allowable. And so I pass to the arguments for the proof of the assertion; which are these.
1. To endeavour the execution of justice in the proper acts of it between man and man, is allowable before God, and not repugnant to religion: but without going to law, there can be no such endeavour for the execution of justice, and consequently it is to be admitted. That the former is not repugnant to religion is clear; for then justice and religion would be contrary, which would be to cast an high aspersion upon both.
Justice is the noblest dictate issuing from the principles of improved nature, and nature, which is the law of God written in our hearts, cannot contradict his law as it is written in his word. God cannot write the same thing a duty in one law, and a sin in the other. Justice came down from heaven, and descended upon mankind, as a communication of a divine perfection flowing from him whose great attribute is to be the Just One, and the re warder of every man according to his works.
As for the assumption of the argument, that the exercise of this great blessing of the world, justice, cannot take place, unless it be lawful to prosecute offenders before courts and judges; it is a thing that requires no laborious proof. For can we expect that thieves and murderers should come and surrender their persons to the vengeance of the law freely, and of their own accord, as scorning all arrests, and preventing attachments by sheriffs, constables, and such other unnecessary instruments of force? Will they arraign themselves, be both jury and evidence, and stand convict by the generous openness of their own confession?
When and where do we read of any instance or example of such strange
transactions? When men
2. The second argument is this; that if Christian religion absolutely prohibits and disallows all pursuit of a man’s right at law, then the strict observance of this religion unavoidably draws after it the utter dissolution of all government and society; a sad consequence, but naturally issuing from such an antecedent.
For does not society consist in a due distinction of propriety amongst men, and in their peaceable and secure enjoying that, of which they are proprietors? Do not all public bodies bear upon the great basis of meum and tuum between particular persons, and upon the provision it makes to protect those persons in their respective titles to what they possess?
And moreover, is not the foundation of all just possession a just acquisition; as by gift, labour, or the like, by which the world shares the common benefits of nature, dividing to each man his portion, and enclosing it to him from the encroachment and pretences of all others? These things, I suppose, must be granted to be the very fundamentals and first uniting principles of society.
But now, if there be no coercive power to call men to account
for their actions; when the world shall be infested with the violent and the unjust,
who will not labour, but yet possess; who are nobody’s heirs, and yet will inherit;
raising a new
He that has the strongest arm, the sharpest sword, the boldest front, and the falsest heart, must possess the world. Whatsoever he grasps must be his own; right and possession will be terms convertible. The meek and the injured part of mankind shall retain a right to nothing, but to patience under the insultations of the mighty and the unjust, and shall see that they can be lawfully nothing else but miserable, when the very plea of the law itself is rendered unlawful.
And, what is the greatest misery of all, these bonds of oppression must be bound upon men by the ties of religion. Thieves rob us of our goods, and then this robs us of our remedies. And men will persuade us, that Jesus Christ makes it our duty to be poor, wretched, injured, forlorn, and destitute, as often as it shall please the lawless avarice and insolence of our enemies to make us so.
Had the primitive Christians owned this to have been the genius and true intent of what they professed, it would quickly have hissed Christianity out of the world, as the bane of government, and the destroyer of whatsoever was settled, regular, and excellent amongst men. It would have exposed it both to the scorn and hatred of all governors. And the setting up the profession of it in any kingdom would have been like the bringing of a public plague into the bowels of a nation; or the courting of a foreign invasion, to trample down all before them with ruin and confusion. For surely the removal of all courts of judicature would have had no less mischievous effects upon a people, than either of those annoyances. But had this been the design of Christianity, there is no doubt but all nations would have stood upon their guard, and kept it off like a pest; and courts of judicature would sooner have suppressed this religion, than this religion could have beat down those courts.
I conclude therefore, that it is far from the purpose of Christ’s doctrine to forbid injured persons to take their course at law; under the gospel, courts are to be as much open as churches. And to plead the cause of the afflicted, the fatherless, and the widow, is but part of that great office which God has honoured, by sometimes assuming it to himself. Christianity came to invest the world with new helps and privileges, and not to abridge men of their old. This religion has provided no asylum for thieves or murderers; it neither secures nor sanctifies wrong or oppression. And therefore that opinion, which lays this as a block in their way who would proceed to a legal recovery of their rights, is to be rejected, as absurd and insufferable.
Yet since men are too prone to stretch their just allowances beyond their bounds, to abuse privileges, and to spoil a due action by undue circumstances of prosecution; I shall therefore, in the third and last place, briefly propose those conditions that are required to warrant men in their law-proceedings and contentions. And they are three.
1. First, that a man takes not this course against any one, but
upon a very great and urgent cause. Every little wrong and trespass is not a sufficient
warrant for me to disturb my neighbour’s peace,
But those uncharitable, unworthy motives, that usually act men in these prosecutions, sufficiently declare how much they deviate from the rules of religion: for what more usual than such kind of speeches; “I will spend five hundred, a thousand pounds, but I will have my will.” So that, it seems, it is not so much to have right, as to have their will, for which some go to law. But let me say to such, that God will spend a thousand, nay, ten thousand curses upon them, but that he will fully punish such a wicked and unmerciful disposition.
2. Supposing that the wrong is great, and calls for reparation, yet in the next place it is required that a man be willing, upon any tolerable and just terms, to agree with his adversary, rather than to proceed to a suit: otherwise he does not sacrifice to justice or to necessity, but to a litigious humour and an ill-nature, that loves contention for contention’s sake, and descends to it, not as a remedy, but a recreation: he designs not to advantage himself, but to afflict and harass his adversary; and therefore is willing to undergo the trouble and misery of following the suit himself, only for the base pleasure of seeing another miserable.
For surely it must be a very strange height of virulence, that
shall make a man thus prefer the continuance of a quarrel before an amicable composure
of it! when Providence is pleased to order the state
3. But thirdly and lastly, supposing that both the wrong is in
itself very great, and no satisfaction or conditions of agreement are offered by
him that did it, but that the injured person must of necessity commence a suit against
him; yet then it is required, that he manage it by the rule of charity, and not
with any purpose to revenge himself upon his adversary. But certainly it is a very
rare thing, and seldom found, to see a man of so clear a breast, so sincere a design,
as to have waded through such prosecutions without any interposal of vindictive
thoughts. The action indeed (as I have proved) is
And thus I have finished the resolution of the last case propounded, and I hope have stated the controversy with that truth and equality, that I have not at all derogated from the law of God, while I asserted the laws of men.
If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.
WHEN I first entered upon these words, I laid the prosecution of them in the discussion of these four particulars.
I. To shew what was included in this great duty of living peaceably.
II. What were the measures and proportions by which it was to be determined.
III. What were the means by which it was to be effected.
IV. What were the motives and arguments by which it might be enforced.
The two first of these I have at length despatched; and the two last, as containing nothing of controversy, but being of plain and practical consideration, I shall finish in this discourse, and conclude this subject.
And first, for the means conducible to our performance of this excellent duty, I shall, amongst those many that possibly each man’s particular experience may better suggest to him, select and reckon these.
1. A careful suppression of all distasteful, but however of all
aggravating apprehensions of any ill turn or unkind behaviour from men. He that
will preserve
As when a man has fixed his thoughts upon an affront offered him, resented it sharply, and rolled it in his mind a long time, so that the rancour of those thoughts begin to reach and infect the passions, and they begin to rise and swell, and those also to possess the will, so that this espouses it into full resolves and purposes of revenge: it is then too late to command a man, under these dispositions and proximities of action, to be peaceable; he is possessed and full, and admits of no advice. The malicious design has got head and maturity; and therefore will certainly pass into act, and rage in a man’s behaviour, to the degree of railing, or downright blows, or perhaps bloodshed; or some other instance of a great mischief.
But had a man, by an early wariness and observance of his teeming thoughts, crushed those infant sharpnesses, those first disgusts and grudgings, that began to sour and torment his whole mind, he would have found the humour curable and conquerable; and for all these seeds, and little essays of disturbance, yet, as to the main event of practice, he must have passed for a peaceable man.
Has a man therefore received an injury, a disrespect, or something at least that he thinks to be so; if he would now maintain himself in a due composure of spirit, and stop the sallyings out of an hasty and indecent revenge, and all this with success and a certainty of effect; let him first arrest his thoughts, and divert them to some other object. Let him but do this easy violence to himself, as to think of something else: amongst those thousand things in the world that may be thought on, let him fix upon any one; as, his business, his studies, or the news of the time: but amongst other things, let the thoughts be directed rather to reconciling objects, such as are apt to leave a pleasure and a sweetness upon the mind; as a man’s lawful and innocent recreations, the delights of a journey, of a cured sickness or an escaped danger, or the like. But chiefly, let the thoughts be busied upon such things as are peculiar and proper antidotes against the grudge conceived. As, let a man remember whether he never received a courtesy from that person who he thinks has provoked him; and let him consider, whether that courtesy did not outweigh the present injury; and was not done with greater circumstances of kindness, than this of disrespect. Now by such arts and methods of diverting the thoughts, the quick sense of the injury will by degrees be eluded, weakened, and baffled into nothing: and the grudge will strike a man’s apprehensions, but as a gentle breath of air does his face, with a transient, undiscernible touch, leaving behind it neither sign nor impression.
For we must know that it is the morose dwelling of the thoughts
upon an injury, a long and sullen
If a man will indulge his thoughts upon a disrespect offered him, he will find how by degrees they will raise and advance, and get the mastery of him. That which first did but lightly move, shall presently warm, then heat, afterwards chafe, and at length fire and inflame him: and now the evil is grown mighty and invincible; and swelled into a strange unlimitedness, so that that which perhaps but a week or two ago was no more than a slight displeasure, and to be smiled, or talked, or slept away, is now like to go off like a clap of thunder, to scatter an huge ruin, and determine in something dismal and tragical.
We shall find that this way of thinking had the like effect upon
David, but upon a better subject, in
This is exactly the case of the angry and contentious man; he provokes and works up himself to a passion by a restless employment of thought upon some injury done him; till from a man he grows into a beast of prey, and becomes implacable and intolerable. Surely therefore it concerns the virtuous and the wary, and such as know how absolutely necessary it is to conduct every action of piety by the rules of prudence, to endeavour peaceableness, by keeping down the first inconsiderable annoyances and disturbances of it, which like the mustard seeds in their first sowing are very small and contemptible, but being grown up, shoot out into branches and arms, spread into a vast compass, and settle into a firm strength and consistency of body.
Compare a disgust in its beginnings and after its continuance,
in the first appearance and the last effects of it; and we shall find the disproportions
monstrous and unmeasurable. No man is able to give laws to an overgrown humour,
and to grapple
But as in order to a man’s keeping of the peace, both with himself and others, it highly lies upon him to give no entertainment to disgustful thoughts, conceived from the behaviour of men towards him; so he is much more to abandon and take heed of all aggravating thoughts. If he will not pass over and forget an offence, at least he is not to heighten it; to make that great, which is but small; and numerous, that is but single. If a man were to chastise a child for a fault, and presently by an error of fancy should persuade himself, that certainly that child was some great porter, and should measure out stripes to him accordingly; there is no doubt but the injury would quickly appear in a sad effect.
There are indeed no venial sins towards God, but there are between
men; and therefore he who shall prosecute a venial offence with a mortal hatred,
and swell a molehill into a mountain, beholding every
It is not unusual to hear such speeches fall from some mouths: He did such a thing purposely to spite me; had he not known that I disgusted it, it had never been spoke or done by him. Whereas perhaps the man, in the word or action for which he is censured, thought no hurt, much less designed any: but did it by an innocent carelessness, not sufficiently alarmed by an experience of the baseness, the falseness, and the exceptiousness of men, to set a greater caution or guard upon his behaviour: or perhaps, take it at the worst, it was a word extorted from him by the exasperation of his spirit, and before he was aware, borne upon the wings of passion, and so quickly out of his reach, and not to be recalled.
But shall we now play the exactors and the tyrants, squeezing
every supposed irregularity till we fetch blood, and according to that unworthy
course condemned in
Would any one be willing to be took upon an advantage? to have
every slip and weakness of his discourse critically observed, every inadvertency
in his behaviour maliciously scanned, and at length heightened, and blown up to
a crime, or a great accusation? Surely there is no man so privileged from the common
lot of humanity or natural affections,
And shall these things be now counted grounds sufficient to build
a dislike upon, that shall vent itself in the disturbance of a man’s peace, the
hatred of his person, the undermining of his interest, and the extinguishing his
reputation. It is as certain as certainty itself, that oftentimes they do so: and
therefore I have nothing to say more as to this particular, but to make use of that
prayer of St. Paul,
And thus much for the first means to help us in the duty of living peaceably; namely, a mature and careful suppression of all distasteful, but especially of all aggravating apprehensions, either of the defective or faulty instances of men’s behaviour towards us.
2. A second sovereign means conducing to the same great purpose,
is the forbearing of all pragmatical or malicious informations against those with
whom we converse. It was a worthy saying of Solomon, well beseeming that reputation
of wisdom which he stands renowned for in holy writ, that he that repeateth a
matter separateth very friends. The carrying of a tale, and reporting what such
an one said or such an one did, is the way to sow such grudges, to kindle such heart-burnings
between
For let us consider the case a little: there is perhaps in some united body, collection, or society of men, some pick-thank caterpillar or other, who, either to ingratiate himself with some great one, or to mischief some whom he maligns, or peradventure both, comes and cringes and whispers, and tells his story, and possibly with some dissembled expressions of respect to the person whom he is about to ruin: as, that he is heartily sorry that such an one, whom he had always an esteem for, should so misbehave and forget himself, as to be guilty of such things as he found and heard him to be; and indeed was a long time before he could believe any such matter of him, out of the great honour he bore him. Nevertheless thus and thus it is, and he is troubled that he should be forced to be the messenger of any thing to his disadvantage.
Well, the good man has told his story, and the secret bolt is
shot: let us now see into how many cursed consequences this viperous piece of villainy
is like to spread itself; and that, whether we consider the accusation as true or
as false; as relating to the person accused, or to him before whom he is accused.
And first we will take the allegation that such informers usually make in their
own behalf,
But since truth is a thing that seldom dwells in the mouths and discourses of informers, we will suppose the accusation to be, as for the most part it is, really false; and that either as to the very matter of it, there being absolutely no such thing as is reported; or at least in respect of some portion and circumstance of the narration; some little thing being added, over and above the true state of the matter, or something being concealed that should have been mentioned; either of which may make such an alteration in the case, that that which one way is innocent and allowable, the other way becomes impious, vile, and criminal. It is in such reports as it is in numbers, the addition or detraction but of one unit makes it presently another number.
But now, if we proceed further, and direct the consequences of
this degenerous practice to the persons
But if the things deposed against him be false, as frequently they both are and may very well be, by reason of the accuser’s presumption that he shall never be brought to vouch or prove what he has said; why then an innocent person unheard, untried, and bereaved of all power to clear himself, and to confute his accuser, is concluded against, and condemned; his sentence is passed, the purpose of his ruin sealed, and the man is blown up before ever he understands that there is so much as any crime, accusation, or accuser of him in the world.
And is not this an horrid and a barbarous thing, and a perversion of the very designs of society? For to what purpose do men unite and convene into corporations, if the mischiefs they suffer under them are greater than those that attend them in a state of dispersion and open hostility?
Certainly it is a grievance to nature, and to that common reason
and justice which presides over mankind, to see a brave, an upright, and a virtuous
person fall by the informations and base arts of an
But neither is the poor, accused, ruined person the only one that is abused and injured by the false and malicious informer, but even he who by such information is brought to ruin him. For is it not the worst of injuries, that such a wretch should make a great person the instrument of his sin, and the prosecutor of his malice; and all this by abusing his intellectuals with a lie? deceiving and cheating him with false persuasions, in order to a gaining him to a base or a cruel action; first blinding his eye, and then using his hand, and making him to do that upon a false representation of things, which, had he been rightly informed of, he would not have done for a world. It is like the making of a man drunk, and then causing him to sign a deed for the passing away of his estate. In short, it is a daring encroachment, and an intolerable injury. And if there were any one that might lawfully not be forgiven, it is this.
But the abuse rests not here; for such sycophants by these practices
do not only abuse men in their understanding, their interest, and their peace, by
first making them to believe a falsehood, and then to sacrifice a friend or an innocent
man to such a belief; but further, they abuse them in that very instance for which
they accuse others. It being very
Now in this case there is nothing so much to be wished for, as
that some lucky hand of Providence would bring the person informed against, and
the person to whom he was informed against, together; that they might compare notes,
and confer what the informer had said on both sides. And the truth is, so it falls
out by a strange connection and trace of events, that usually such whisperers are
discovered, and that that which passing from the mouth is but a whisper, from the
echo and rebound becomes a voice: the effect of which is, that a vile person comes
to be understood, and then to be abhorred, and to be pointed at as he passes by,
with such kind of elogies as these; “There goes a person for whom no one breathing
was ever the better, but many ruined, blasted, and undone; the scourge of society,
a spit-poison, a viper, and to be abandoned and shunned by all companies, like a
mortal infection: and yet withal so despicable, so detested, and that amidst the
greatest successes of his base projects, that the condition of him who is most ruined
by him, even while he is ruined, is much
I wonder what such persons think, or propose to themselves, when they come to affront God in his house, praying, hearing sermons, and receiving sacraments; when there is no sin or corruption incident to the depraved nature of man, that more peculiarly unfits them for this divine and blessed duty, than the sin that we have been discoursing of. And I am confident, that when such a person thrusts himself upon the ordinance, and receives the consecrated elements; he yet partakes no more of the body and blood of Christ, or the real benefits of them, than the rat that gnaws the bread, a creature like himself, close, mischievous, and contemptible.
We have seen here how much such persons and practices interrupt
the peace of societies; but yet we are to know that the burden of this charge is
not so wholly to lie upon the framers and bringers of such informations, but that
some is to rest upon those also who are ready to hear them. For as there is a parity
of guilt between the thief and the receiver, so there seems to be the like between
the teller and the hearer of a malicious report; and that upon very great reason.
For who would knock, where he despaired of entrance? or what husbandman would cast
his seed but into an open and a prepared furrow? so it is most certain, that ill
tongues would be idle, if ill ears were not open. And therefore it was an apposite
saying of one of the ancients, that both the teller and the hearer of false stories
ought equally to be hanged, but one by the tongue, the other by the ears: and were
every one of them so served,
But when there is a conspiracy and an agreement on both sides, and one ill-nature tells a tale, and another ill-nature thanks him for it; and so encourages him in the custom, by shewing how ready he is to hear his words, and to do the intended mischief; so that the ball is kept up, by being tossed from one hand to the other: let not that society or company of men, who are blessed with such persons amongst them, expect any such thing as peace; they may as well expect that the winter sun will ripen their summer fruits, or the breath of the north wind preserve their blossoms. No, they will find, that the blasts of contention will blow and whistle about their ears, and a storm arise, which shall endanger their tranquillity to an utter shipwreck, without any possibility of being appeased, but by throwing such wretches and renegadoes from God and good-nature overboard.
Let this therefore be the second means to advance us in the duty of living peaceably; namely, to abominate such practices ourselves, and to discountenance them in others. It is a prescription easy and sovereign, and such an one as will not fail in the experiment: but according to the proportions of its efficacy, will manifest a certain and an happy influence, for the restoring of peace, and the refreshing of human converse: for when the troublers of Israel are removed, the trouble of it must needs cease.
And thus much for the second means of maintaining the duty of peaceableness.
3. The third that I shall prescribe is, that men would be willing in some cases to wave the prosecution of their rights, and not too rigorously to insist upon them. There are some things which it may be lawful for a man to do, but falling under cross circumstances, may be infinitely inexpedient. To require reparation for a wrong, is a thing good and lawful; but sometimes it may be done so unseasonably, that peace, which is a much better thing, is lost by it. That same stomachus cedere nescius found in most, is the thing that foments quarrels, and keeps men at such unpeaceable distances. I will not lose my right, says one; and I will suffer no wrong, says another: and so they enter into a conflict, both pulling and contesting, till the quietness of society is torn asunder betwixt them. Now it is here apparent, that unless one of these shall relinquish what he supposes to be his right, the controversy must of necessity be perpetual. But certainly peace is an enjoyment so high, that it deserves to be bought at the rate of some lesser abridgments; and a man shall find that he never does himself so much right, as when, upon such an occasion, he parts with his right. It may possibly be of some difficulty to assign all those instances in which peace may challenge this of us, as to surrender a right for its preservation; and though cases of this nature are as numberless and indefinite as particular actions and their circumstances; yet, to contribute something to the conduct of our practice in so weighty and concerning a matter, I shall presume to set down some.
(1.) As first, when the recovery of a right, according to the best judgment that human reason can pass upon things, seems impossible: prudence and duty then calls upon a man to surcease the prosecution of that, and rather to follow peace. It will perhaps be replied here, that this case is superfluous and absurd, for no rational man will endeavour after that which he apprehends impossible. I answer, that this seems true indeed, did all that were rational act rationally. But besides, supposing this also; yet unless a man acts virtuously as well as rationally, he may propose to himself the prosecution of a thing impossible, not indeed with a design to obtain that thing, but for some other end or purpose; as either to gratify an humour, or to annoy an enemy, or the like. As for instance, he that should prosecute a poor widow, not worth above two mites, for the debt of a thousand talents due to him from her, yet by reason of this her great poverty, contracted by losses and misfortunes, utterly unpayable; that man prosecutes an impossible thing, and at the same time knows it to be so, and accordingly despairs of the recovery of his debt, yet he continues the suit, because his disposition may incline him to be troublesome, vexatious, and unmerciful; and where money is not to be had, to pay himself with revenge. He may be one that tastes the calamities of a ruined adversary with an high relish, that finds a music in the widow’s sighs, and a sweetness in her tears.
But now, in such a case is it not rational to conclude, that Christianity
calls us to peace, rather than to a fruitless prosecution of a desperate right?
where Providence, by taking away all possibility and
We may be also called to the same duty of not demanding our right, when the power and villainy of the oppressor put the regaining of it under an impossibility. But you will reply; This is a very hard saying: for ought any one’s injustice to prejudice me in the claim of my right? I answer, no: if that claim had any likely prospect of a recovery. Otherwise, what rational effect can follow it? for by all a man’s clamours and suits for right, he is not at all benefited, and yet the peace is disturbed; nay, it is enough to stamp his action irrational, that he loses his own peace without the least recompence; all his endeavours expiring into air, and vanishing with no effect: for the door of justice is shut, and his little attempts cannot force it open.
It is a thing in itself lawful and commendable, for a subject to vouch and assert the title of his prince. But should it so fall out, that a tyrant and an usurper steps up into his throne, and there surrounds himself with armed legions, and a prevailing interest, so that justice and loyalty are forced to shrink in their heads, and so all purposes of resistance become wholly insignificant; will any one say, that it is here the duty of any particular person to stand forth and defend his prince’s claim, in defiance of the usurper, by which neither his prince’s right is in the least advantaged, nor the oppressor’s power at all weakened or infringed; but yet the common peace is interrupted, and a ruin brought upon his own head, and the head of his confederates.
Thus, when a bird comes to be immured in the
It is so with a person overpowered in his right, and bereaved of it by those with whom he cannot grapple. Christianity and reason command him not here to labour in vain, but to make a virtue of necessity, and to acquiesce, expecting the issues of Providence, which disposes of things by a rule known only to itself. And by so doing a man is no worse than he was before; but the peace is maintained, and the rewards of patience may be well expected.
(2.) In the second place, it seems to be a man’s duty to quit the claim of his right, when that right is but trivial, small, and inconsiderable, but the recovery of it troublesome and contentious. That which being lost makes a man not much the poorer, nor recovered, much the richer, cannot authorize him to enter into the turmoil, the din, and noise of a suit, or a long contest.
Nothing can warrant a man in these courses but necessity, or a great inconvenience; which, in the supposed instance, is not pleadable. But he proceeds upon the dictates of humour, the suggestions of revenge, and the instigations of an unquiet disposition: the consequences of which, in this world, are but ill; and the rewards of them in the next much worse.
This whole method is like the applying of corrosives, and caustics,
and the most tormenting remedies, to remove the pain of a cut finger, or like the
(3.) In the third place, it seems to be a man’s duty to recede from his claim of any particular right, when for the injury done him he has a recompence offered him, in some good equivalent, and perhaps greater, though of another kind. A man has deposited a jewel in another’s hand; the jewel comes to be lost or stolen: but the person to whose keeping it was intrusted is willing to make him satisfaction, in paying him the full value of it in money, or in giving him another of a greater price. In which case, should the person endamaged utterly refuse all such satisfaction, and rigidly insist upon the restitution of that individual thing, he declares himself a son of contention, an enemy of peace, and an unreasonable exactor.
Nay, the equity of this extends even to those losses, for which,
perhaps, no recompence perfectly equivalent can be made; yet, when the utmost that
the thing is capable of comes to be tendered, justice, acting by the rules of charity,
will tie up the injured man from righting himself by any further prosecutions. As
for instance, we will suppose a man defamed, and injured in his reputation; in this
case, the word that gave him the wound cannot be unsaid again, or revoked, any more
than a spent hour be called back, or yesterday brought again upon the stage of time;
but it is gone, and past recovery. Yet the mischief done by this word is permanent
and great; it has spilt a man’s good name upon the ground; which, like spilt water,
cannot be gathered up again. But after this, the slanderer comes to be touched with
remorse and sorrow for what he has
The like may be said in the loss of a limb, or any part of the
body, as an eye or an arm. Certain it is, that he who has struck out my eye, or
cut off my arm, has not the magazines of nature so in his power, as to be able to
give me another; nor will all his estate recompense the injury of a maimed, deformed
body: yet if he will endeavour to give me the best recompence my sad condition will
receive, and make up the loss of these with supplies of other advantages, I must
be contented, and lie down patiently under my calamity, no longer owning it under
the notion of an injury from the man that did it, but as a sad providence from heaven,
as an arrow shot from the bow in the clouds, to punish my sins and to exercise my
patience. And therefore all suits and actions and endeavours after a severe retribution,
must be
And thus I have shewn the cases in which the duty we all owe to peace may command us sometimes to remit the rigid prosecutions of our right; which was the third means proposed to give success to our endeavours after peaceableness.
4. A fourth is, much to reflect upon the great example of Christ,
and the strict injunction lying upon us to follow it. We shall find that his whole
life went in a constant recession from his own rights, in order to the tranquillity
and peace of the public: he was born heir to the kingdom of the Jews, yet never
vouched his title, but quietly saw the sceptre in an usurper’s hand, and lived and
died under the government of those who had no right to govern. When tribute was
demanded of him, he clearly demonstrated the case to Peter, in
Nay, and what is more, in the great concernment of his life, rather than occasion a tumult, or any unpeaceable disorder, though amongst persons then about the greatest villainy that ever the sun saw; he quitted the grand right of self-preservation: which case, though it was peculiar and extraordinary, and so obliges not us to every particular of the action; yet the design of peaceableness, which induced him to such a behaviour, calls for our imitation in general, that we should be willing to brook many high inconveniences, rather than be the occasions of any public disturbance. They sent out an inconsiderable company with swords and staves to apprehend him; but what could this pitiful body of men have done to prejudice his life, who, with much more ease than Peter drew his sword, could have summoned more angels to his assistance, than there were legions of men marching under the Roman eagles? But he chose rather to resign himself silently and unresistingly, like a lamb to the slaughter, and so to recommend the excellency of patience to all his disciples, in a strange instance and a great example.
Now I suppose that it needs not much labour to evince, that what Christ did, upon a moral account,, equally engages the practice of his disciples, according to their proper degree and proportion. And therefore we are to study those divine lessons of peace, to admire, and conform to his behaviour, to transcribe his copy, and to read a precept in every one of his actions. And this is the fourth means to enable us to quit ourselves in the great duty of peaceableness.
5. The fifth and last which I shall propose, which surely, for its efficacy and virtue, will be inferior to none of the former, is this; not to adhere too pertinaciously and strictly to our own judgments of things doubtful in themselves, in opposition to the judgment of our superiors, or others, who may be rationally supposed more skilful in those things. If we pursue most of those contentions which afflict the world, to their first principle, we shall find that they issue from pride, and pride from self-opinion, and a strange persuasion that men have of their knowledge of those things of which they are indeed ignorant. I am not for the implicit faith of the papists, or for any man to pluck out his own eyes, and to be guided by another man’s, in matters plain, obvious, and apprehensible; and of which common reason, without the assistance of art and study, is a competent judge. But surely, in things difficult and controverted, the learned, who have made it their business to wade into those depths, should be consulted, and trusted to, before the rash and illiterate determinations of any particular man whatsoever.
The not doing of which, I am sure, has ruined the peace of this
poor church, and shook it into such unsettlements, that the youngest person alive
is not like to see it recovered to its full strength, vigour, and establishment.
There is not the least retainer to a conventicle, but thinks he understands the
whole business of religion, as well as the most studied and profound doctor in the
nation. And for those things that by pious and mature deliberation, grounded upon
the word of God, and the constant practice of antiquity, have been ordained for
the better and more decent management of divine worship, there is
And having upon such pitiful grounds took up an opinion, they are as ready to fight for it, and to assert it with the last drop of their blood. Armies shall be raised, swords drawn, and the peace of a kingdom sacrificed to a notion, as absurdly conceived as impudently defended. Laws must be repealed, or lie unexecuted, customs abrogated, and sovereignty itself must be forced to bow before the exceptions of a tender conscience, and to give way to every religious opiniator, who is pleased to judge his peculiar sentiments in sacred matters the great standard of truth, to which all must conform. For though they deny a conformity to the church in its constitutions, yet they think it very reasonable, nay, necessary, that the church should conform to them; whereas it is most certain from experience, that such persons seldom persist so steadily in any one opinion, as for a year’s space to conform thoroughly to themselves.
I conclude therefore, that there is no such bane of the common
peace, as a confident singularity of opinion: for men’s opinions shall rule their
practices, and when their practices shall get head and countenance, they shall overrule
the laws. If when men
And thus much for the third particular proposed for the handling the words, namely, to shew by what means we might be enabled to the great duty of living peaceably. I come now to the fourth and last, which is to shew,
IV. What are the motives and arguments by which this duty may be enforced. I suppose, many may be gathered here and there from what has been already delivered, and therefore I shall be the briefer in this.
1. The first enforcing argument that I shall propound, shall be
taken from the excellency of the thing itself; which indeed is so great, that the
highest appellations of honour recorded in scripture are derived from peace. God
himself is pleased to insert it amongst his own titles, and to be called the
God of peace,
Now certainly that must needs be a glorious thing, that thus gives
titles of glory to the Prince of glory, that thus fills the heraldry of heaven,
and calls gifts, graces, blessings, and every good thing, after its own
2. The second motive to peace shall be taken from the excellency of the principle from which peaceableness of spirit proceeds. It is from a pious, a generous, and a great mind. Little things are querulous; and the wasp much more angry and troublesome than the eagle. He that can slight affronts, despise revenge, and rather suffer an inconvenience than employ his passion to remove it, declares himself above the injuries of men, and that though others would disturb him, yet he will not be disturbed, he is too strong to be shaken; and so, has both his quietness and his reputation in his own keeping.
Now certainly it is more desirable to be such a person, than to be a subject and a slave to every man’s distemper and imprudence; for so he is whom every man is able to exasperate and disquiet: he has let go his happiness, and put it into the power of those who regard not their own; and therefore is forced to be miserable, whensoever any other man shall think fit to be proud, insolent, and passionate. I suppose I need no greater argument to recommend a peaceable temper, than the misery of such a condition.
3. The third motive to peace shall be taken from the consequent
blessing entailed upon it by a peculiar
I do not doubt but the blessing here pronounced to the peaceable is such an one as reaches heaven, and runs forth into eternity, and does not determine in these transient enjoyments and earthly felicities; yet since these also lie in the bowels of the promise, and may come in as a fair overplus, or serve as a comfortable earnest of those greater happinesses that as yet are but within our prospect; I shall take notice of two instances of this blessing, that will certainly attend the peaceable in this world.
(1.) The first is an easy, undisturbed, and quiet enjoyment of
themselves. While a man is careful to keep the peace with others, he will in the
rebound find the influence of it upon himself. He has no enmities to prosecute,
no revenges to beware of, no suspicions to discompose his mind. But he that will
disturb others, of necessity casts himself under all those evils. For he that affronts
or injures a man, must be at the trouble to make that affront good; he must also
expect that the affronted person waits for an opportunity to repay him with a shrewd
recompence:
But then the chiefest misery of all is this, that as it is a very restless, so it is a very needless condition. For what necessity is there that I should undertake the trouble of troubling another? Why should I take so much pains to be disturbed and out of order, when the charge at which I may purchase my own quietness is no greater than only to let other men enjoy theirs? If I should strike any one a great blow on the teeth, it is very probable that I may bruise my own hand as well as hurt his face.
But the peaceable man is composed and settled in the most of those disturbances that embroil the world round about him. He can sleep in a storm, because he had no hand in the raising it. He conjured no evil spirit up, and so is not put upon the trouble to conjure him down again. He is like a sword resting in its scabbard, which, by that means, both hurts nobody and preserves itself.
(2.) The other instance of the great blessing attending the peaceable
in this world, is that honour and reputation which such a temper of mind and course
of life fixes upon their persons. Every one looks upon such a man as a public blessing,
as a gift from heaven, as an help and remedy to the frailties and miseries of mankind.
There is none but is forced to confess that he has been the better for such an one;
and consequently, to acknowledge a debt to
But on the contrary, is there any one that prays for or honours a plague, a rat, a serpent, or, which is worse than all, a false and a malicious informer? As amongst all the trees and plants of the earth the bramble is the most troublesome, so it is also the most contemptible. It is the great and notable curse of the earth to bear briers and thorns: and it is also their doom to be burnt; and I know nobody that would find a miss of them.
For when such persons are removed, afflicted society seems to have a little respite and time of breathing: for while they have scope to act the mischief of their temper, they are like some flies, that first by their venom make a sore, and then set upon it and afflict it.
But it being the nature of mankind to fasten an honour there only where they find either something like to God, or beneficial to themselves; let not such nuisances think, that any generous mind can either honour or affect them; for such can be considerable for nothing, but because they are able to do mischief; and I know nothing so vile or base in nature, but that sometimes it has power to do hurt. Is there any thing more weak and pitiful than a flea or a gnat? and yet they have sting and sharpness enough to trouble a wise man.
It is therefore the peaceable mind only, the mind which studies
how to compose, and heal, and bind up the bleeding wounds of society, that is truly
great and honourable. The name of such is like an ointment poured forth, which we
know is both healing and fragrant. Honour and respect court
The wages of sin is death.
THE two great things which make such a disturbance in the world, are sin and death; the latter both the effect and punishment of the former. Sin, I confess, is an obvious subject, and the theme almost of every discourse; but yet it is not discoursed of so much, but that it is committed much more: it being like that ill custom spoken of by Tacitus in Rome, semper vetabitur, semper retinebitur.
But while the danger continues, we must not give over the alarm; nor think a discourse of sin superfluous, while the commission of it is continual, and yet the prevention necessary.
In the words, we have a near and a close conjunction between the
greatest object of the world’s love, which is sin, and the greatest object of its
hatred, which is death. And we see them presented to us in such a vicinity, that
they are in the very confines of one another; death treading upon the heels of sin,
its hateful, yet its inseparable companion. And it is wonderful to consider, that
men should so eagerly court the antecedent, and yet so strangely detest the consequent;
that they should pour gall into the fountain, and yet cry out of the bitterness
of the stream: and lastly, which is of all things the
The scope and design of the words I shall draw forth, and prosecute in the discussion of these three following things.
I. I shall shew what sin is, which is here followed with so severe a penalty as death.
II. I shall shew what is comprised in death, which is here allotted for the sinner’s wages.
III. And lastly, I shall shew in what respect death is properly called the wages of sin. Of each of which in their order. And,
I. For the first of these, what sin is. And according to the most known and received definition of it, it is ἀνομία, a breach of the law; a transgression, or leaping over those boundaries which the eternal wisdom of God has set to a rational nature: a receding from that exact rule and measure which God has prescribed to moral actions. This is the general notion of it; but as for the particular difficulties, disputes, and controversies, which some have started upon this subject, and by which they have made the law of God almost as ambiguous and voluminous as the laws of men, I shall wave them all; and not being desirous to be either nice or prolix, shall speak of sin only under that known division of it, into original and actual.
1. And first, for original sin. It may seem strange perhaps, that
sin bears date with our very being; and indeed, in some respect, prevents it. That
we were sinners before we were born; and seem to have been held in the womb, not
only as infants for the birth, but as malefactors in a prison. And that, if we look
upon our interest in this world,
There are some, I know, who deny that which we here call original sin, to be indeed properly any sin at all; and will have it at the most, not to be our fault, but our infelicity. And their reason is, because nothing can be truly and properly sin, which is not voluntary: but original corruption in infants cannot be voluntary; since it precedes all exercise of their rational powers, their understanding and their will.
But to this I answer, that original corruption in every infant
is voluntary, not indeed in his own person, but in Adam his representative; whose
actions, while he stood in that capacity, were virtually, and by way of imputation,
the acts of all his posterity: as amongst us, when a person serves in
Age and ripeness of years does not give being, but only opportunity to sin. That principle, which lay dormant and unactive before, is then drawn forth into sinful acts and commissions. When a man is grown up, his corruption does not begin to exist, but to appear; and to spend upon that stock, which it had long before.
Pelagius indeed tells us, that the sons of Adam came to be sinners only by imitation. But then, I would know of him, what those first inclinations are, which dispose us to such bad imitations? Certainly, that cannot but be sinful, which so powerfully, and almost forcibly inclines us to sin.
We may conclude therefore, that even this original, native corruption renders the persons who have it obnoxious and liable to death. An evil heart will condemn us, though Providence should prevent its running forth into an evil life. Sin is sin, whether it rests in the inclinations, or shoots out into the practice; and a toad is full of poison, though he never spits it.
2. The other branch, or rather sort of sin, is that which we call
actual. This is the highest improvement of the former: the constant flux
and ebullition of that corrupt fountain in the course of a vicious
Now actual sin may be considered two ways.
(1.) According to the subject-matter of it.
(2.) According to the degree.
For the first; considered according to the subject-matter of it, it is divided into the sin of our words, the sin of our actions, and the sin of our desires; according to that short, but full account given of it by the schools, that it is dictum, factum, aut concupitum contra legem Dei. Something said, done, or desired against the rule of God’s law.
(1.) And first, for the sin of our words; the irregularity of
them is, no doubt, sinful, and imprints a guilt upon the speaker. We cannot say
in that lofty strain of those in
(2.) The second sort of actual sin is the sin of our external actions; that is, of such as are performed, not by immediate production or emanation from the will, but by command of the will upon some exterior part or member of the body, as the proper instrument of action. Such as are the acts of theft, murder, uncleanness, and the like. To prove which to be sins, no more is required but only to read over the law of God, and to acknowledge its authority. They being wrote in such big, broad, and legible characters, that the times of the grossest ignorance were never ignorant of the guilt and turpitude inseparably inherent in them. And where the written letter of the law came not, there, according to the apostle’s phrase, men, as to these particulars, were a law to themselves, and by perusing that little book, which every man carried in his own breast, could quickly find enough, both to discover and to condemn those enormities.
(3.) The third sort of actual sin is the sin of our desires. Desires
are the first issues and sallyings out of the soul to unlawful objects. They are
sin, as it were, in its first formation. For as soon as the heart has once conceived
this fatal seed, it first quickens and begins to stir in desire: concupiscence is
the prime and leading sin, which gives life and influence to all the rest, so that
the ground and principal prohibition of the law is, Thou shalt not covet.
And in
Now all these three ways, namely, by word, action, and desire, does sin actually put forth itself. And this is the division of it, as considered according to its subject-matter.
The other consideration of actual sin is according to the degree or measure of it; and so also it is distinguished into several degrees and proportions, according to which it is either enhanced or lessened in its malignity.
(1.) As first, when a man is engaged in a sinful course by surprise
and infirmity, and the extreme frailty of his corrupt nature; when the customs of
the world, and the unruliness of his affections, all conspiring with outward circumstances,
do, like a torrent, beat him out of the paths of virtue, and, as it were, whether
he will or no, drive and bear him forward in the broad road to perdition: which
I take to be frequently the condition of the dangerous, unwary, hardy part of a
man’s life, his youth; in which generally desire is high, and reason low; temptations
ready, and religion afar off. And in such a case, if a strict education, and an
early infusion of virtue, does not prepossess and season the heart, and thereby
prevent the powers of sin in their first and most furious eruptions; how is a desperate
wretch drawn forth into open rebellion against his Maker, into a contempt of all
goodness, and a love of those ways that can tend to and end in nothing but his confusion?
And yet this is the most tolerable condition that sin designs to bring the sinner
(2.) The second degree of actual sin is, when a man pursues a
course of sin against the reluctancies of an awakened conscience, and the endeavours
of his conversion: when salvation waits and knocks at the door of his heart, and
he both bolts it out and drives it away: when he fights with the word, and struggles
with the Spirit; and, as it were, resolves to perish in spite of mercy itself, and
of the means of grace. This we may see exemplified by several instances both in
the Old Testament and the New. Thus God upbraids the house of Israel,
And the like examples we find of the Jews sinning in our Saviour’s
time: they sinned against clear light and irresistible conviction; with an hard
heart and a daring hand. If ye were blind, says our Saviour,
Now this is a more robust, improved, and confirmed way of sinning, than any sinner, upon his first entrance into and engagement in the service of sin, ever rises to; and it takes in many grains of guilt and malignity which were not in the former; it inflames the sinner’s reckoning; it alters the nature and changes the colour of his sin, and sets it off with a deeper stamp and a more crimson die.
(3.) The third and last degree of actual sin is, when a man sins, not only in opposition, but also in defiance to conscience; so breaking all bonds, so trampling upon all convictions, that he becomes not only unruly and untractable, but finally obstinate and incorrigible. And this is the utmost, the ne plus ultra of impiety, which shuts the door of mercy, and seals the decree of damnation.
For this we are to reckon upon, that there is a certain pitch
of sin, a certain degree of wickedness, though known to God himself alone, beyond
which, God never pardons; (not that it is in its nature impardonable, but that God,
according to the wise and unsearchable economy of his dealing with sinners, after
such an height of provocation, withdraws his grace, and surceases the operations
of his Spirit, by which alone the heart can be effectually changed or wrought upon.)
So that these being thus withdrawn, the sinner never actually repents or returns;
but being left to himself, and the uncontrolled sway
And this, no doubt, is the true sense of all those scriptures that represent God limiting his grace to a certain day: the neglect of which (like the last and fatal line drawn under the sinner’s accounts) leaves him nothing more to expect, but a dreadful payment; or, as the apostle calls it, a fearful looking for of judgment. For as soon as ever the sinner has filled the cup of God’s wrath, the next infusion makes it run over.
And thus I have shewn the several degrees of actual sin, the several steps and descents by which the sinner goes down into the regions of death and the bottomless pit.
Now this differs from original sin thus, that that is properly the seed, this the harvest; that merits, this actually procures death. For although as soon as ever the seed be cast in, there is a design to reap; yet, for the most part, God does not actually put in the sickle, till continuance in sin has made the sinner ripe for destruction.
II. Come we now to the second general thing proposed; which is, to shew what is included and comprised in death, which is here allotted for the sinner’s wages.
Death is the great enemy of nature, the devourer of mankind; that which is continually destroying and making havock of the creation: and we shall see the full latitude of it, if we consider it as it stands divided into temporal and eternal.
1. And first, for death temporal. We must not take it in that
restrained sense, as it imports only the separation of the soul from the body: for
that
But we must take it in a larger compass and comprehension; as it is a summary and compendious abridgment of all those evils which afflict human nature; of all those calamities and disasters, which by degrees weaken, and at length dissolve the body.
Look upon those harbingers and forerunners of death, diseases; they are but some of the wages of sin paid us beforehand. What are pains and aches, and the torments of the gout and of the stone, which lie pulling at our earthly tabernacle, but so many ministers and under-agents of death? What are catarrhs and ulcers, coughs and dropsies, but so many mementos of an hastening dissolution, so many foretastes of the grave? What is a consumption, but a lingering, gradual rotting, before we are laid under ground? What is a burning fever, but hell in a shorter and a weaker fire?
And to these diseases of the body we may add the consuming cares and troubles of the mind; the toil, and labour, and racking intention of the brain; all made necessary by the first sin of man; and which do as really, though not as sensibly impair and exhaust the vitals, as the most visible, corporeal diseases do, or can do; and let in death to the body, though by another door.
Moreover, to these miseries, which reach us in our persons, we
may subjoin those which attend our condition; those which we are liable to in our
names and estates; as the shame and infamy, which makes men a scorn to others, and
a burden to themselves; which takes off the gloss and air of all
Now all these things are so many breaches made upon our happiness and well-being, without which life is not life, but a bare, thin, insipid existence; and therefore certainly we cannot deny them to be parts of death, unless perhaps from this reason, that upon a true estimate of things, they are indeed much worse.
And thus we have seen death in the first fruits of it; how by degrees it creeps upon us, how many engines it plants against us, how many assaults it gives, till at length it ends its fatal progress in the final divorce which it makes between soul and body, never resting, till it has abased us to our primitive earth, and to the dishonours of stench, rottenness, and putrefaction.
2. But secondly, the grand payment of the sinner’s wages is in death eternal: in comparison of which, the other can scarce be called death; but only a transient change, a short darkness upon nature; easily borne, or at least quickly past.
But when eternity comes into the balance, it adds an infinity
to the weight, and sinks it down to an immense disparity. Eternal death is not only
the sinner’s punishment, but his amazement: no thought,
But there are also some other concomitant properties of this death, which vastly increase and aggravate the horror of it, besides the bare considerations of its eternity.
(1.) As first, that it bereaves a man of all the pleasures and comforts which he enjoyed in this world; the loss of which, how poor and contemptible soever they are in themselves, yet surely must needs be very afflictive to him who had placed his whole entire happiness in them: and therefore to be stript of all these, and to be cast naked and forlorn into utter darkness and desertion, cannot but be infinitely tormenting, though a man should meet with no other tormentors in that place. For to have strong, eager, immense desires, and a perpetual bar and divorce put between them and their beloved objects, will of itself be hell enough, though the worm should die, and the fire should be quenched.
For how will the drunkard, the epicure, and the wanton bear the
absence and removal of those things that alone used to please their fancy and to
gratify their lust! For here will be neither ball nor masks, plays nor mistresses,
for the gallant to entertain himself with; here will be company indeed good store,
but no good-fellowship; roaring enough, but no ranting in this place. With what
a killing regret must the condemned worldling look back upon his rich manors and
his large estate, his parks and his pleasant gardens! to which there is now no return
for him, but only by thought and remembrance; which can serve him for nothing, but
to heighten his anguish by a bitter comparison of his
(2.) Eternal death bereaves the soul of that infinite, inexpressible
good, the beatific fruition of God. The greatest and the quickest misery of a condemned
sinner is the sense of loss. And if the loss of those puny temporal enjoyments make
so great a part of his punishment, as I have shewn it does, what then shall we say
of the loss of that, which was the only thing which gave life and spirit to all
those enjoyments! which gave them that substance, and suitableness to our nature,
as to render them properly felicities! For all the comfort that God conveys to the
creature, comes from the sensible, refreshing discoveries of his presence. In
thy presence, says the Psalmist, there is fulness of joy,
But now there is an everlasting cloud drawn between this and a sinner under damnation. God hides himself for ever; so that this is the sum and height of the sinner’s doom, that he is condemned eternally to feel God’s hand, and never to see his face.
(3.) And lastly, eternal death fills both body and soul with most
intense pain, and the highest torment and anguish which can be received within a
created, finite capacity. All the woes, griefs, and terrors which humanity can labour
under, shall then, as it were, unite, and really seize upon the soul at once.
I am tormented in this flame, says the rich man,
God seldom punishes or afflicts in this world, but it is with
some allay of mercy; some mixture of clemency, which even in the midst of misery
may yet support hope. But when sin has lodged the. sinner in hell, the cup which
God then administers shall be all justice without mercy, all wrath and
But I shall use no other argument to evince the greatness of those torments but only this, that the Devil shall be the instrument of their execution. And surely a mortal enemy will be a dreadful executioner; and the punishment which an infinite justice inflicts by the hand of an implacable malice must needs be intolerable.
And thus I have despatched the second general thing proposed; which was to shew, what is included and comprised in death, which is here allotted for the sinner’s wages. I proceed now to the
Third and last; which is to shew, in what respect death is properly called the wages of sin. I conceive it may be upon these two following accounts.
1. Because the payment of wages still presupposes service and labour. And undoubtedly the service of sin is of all others the most painful and laborious. It will engross all a man’s industry, drink up all his time; it is a drudgery without intermission, a business without vacation.
We read of the mystery of iniquity; and certainly the mystery of no trade can be attained without a long and a constant sedulity. Nemo repente fit turpissimus. It is the business of a life to be a complete sinner.
Such as are the commands of sin, such must be also the service. But the commands of sin are for their number continual, for their vehemence importunate, and for their burden tyrannical.
Sin is said to conceive and to bring forth; and there is no birth
without pain and travail. God
For is there any work so toilsome, so full of fatigue and weariness,
as to be always at the call of an unlimited appetite, at the command of an insatiable
corruption? The Greek is emphatical, and describes the nature of sin in its name;
for πονηρία, which signifies sin or
wickedness, takes its derivation from πόνος,
which signifies labour. So that the readiest way, it seems, to fulfil the
apostle’s precept in
And were there nothing else in sin but the discomposing and ruffling
of that serene quiet, and undisturbed frame of spirit, which naturally attends a
true and steady virtue, it were enough to endear the one, and to discommend the
other. For sin seldom acts, but in the strength of some passion: and passion never
moves but with tumult and agitation: there being scarce any passion but has its
contrary to thwart and to encounter it; so that still the actings of them represent
a kind of little war in the soul: and accordingly, as the prophet Isaiah says of
every battle of the warrior, so we may say of every stirring of an high passion,
that it is with confused noise. The still voice of reason is drowned,
the sober counsels of religion are stifled, and not heard. And must not that man,
think we, needs be very miserable, who has always such a din and hurry in
The truth of this is sufficiently manifest, from the general theory of the thing itself; but the same will appear yet more evidently by running over particular instances.
And first, take the voluptuous, debauched epicure. What hour of his life is vacant from the slavish injunctions of his vice? Is he not continually spending both his time and his subsistence to gratify his taste? and, as it were, to draw all the elements to his table, to make a sacrifice to the deity of his belly? And then, how uneasy are the consequences of his luxury! when he is to grapple with surfeit and indigestion, with his morning fumes and crudities, and other low and ignoble distempers, the effects of a brutish eating; thus having his stomach always like a kitchen, both for fulness and for filth.
And next, for the intemperate drinker: is not his life a continual toil? To be sitting up when others sleep, and to go to bed when others rise; to be exposed to drunken quarrels and to sordid converse; to have redness of eyes, rheums, and distillations; a weakened body, and a besotted mind?
And then for the adulterer and unclean person: upon what hard
employments does his lust put him! first to contrive, plot, and compass its satisfaction,
and then to avoid the furies of an enraged jealousy,
And lastly, for the covetous, scraping usurer. It is a question whether he gathers or keeps his pelf with most anxiety: he is restless to get, and fearful to lose; but always solicitous, and at work. And perhaps those who labour in the mines are not so busy as those who own them. But I need say no more of such a person but this, that his business is as vast and endless as his desires; and greater it cannot be.
And thus I have shewn the toil of sin, in several particulars, to which many more might be added. In short, if idleness were not a sin, there was scarce any sin but what is laborious.
So that now the retribution of death following such hard and painful service, may properly bear the denomination of wages; and be reputed rather a payment than a punishment.
2. The other reason why death is called the wages of sin,
is because wages do always imply a merit in the work, requiring such a compensation.
Sin and death are compared together as sowing and reaping: and we all account it
a thing of the highest reason and equity in the world, that he who sows should also
reap: He who sows to the flesh, says the apostle,
But to this, some make that trite and popular objection; that since the same is the measure and extent of things contrary; and since our good works cannot merit eternal life; it should follow also, that neither can our sins, our evil works, merit eternal death.
But to this I answer, that the case is very different in these two. For to the nature of merit, it is required that the action be not due: but now every good action being enjoined and commanded by the law of God, is thereby made due, and consequently cannot merit: whereas, on the contrary, a sinful action being quid indebitum, altogether undue; and not at all commanded, but prohibited, it becomes properly meritorious; and, according to the malignity of its nature, it merits eternal death.
But some will yet further urge; that in regard a sinful action is in itself but of a finite nature, and withal proceeds from a finite agent; there seems to be nothing of proportion between that, and an endless, eternal punishment. For what is man but a weak, mutable creature at the best? And what is sin, but a vanishing action, which is performed in the compass of a few minutes, and not to be laid in the scale with the inexhaustible measures of perpetuity?
But to this also we answer, that the merit of sin is not to be
rated, either by the substance of the act, or by the narrowness and poorness of
the agent; but it is to be measured by the proportions of its object, and the greatness
of the person against whom it is done. And therefore being committed against
Nevertheless, because men are apt to think that God treats them upon hard terms, and to view sin with a more favourable eye, I shall in a word or two shew what there is in the nature of sin, which renders it so highly provoking, as to deserve the greatest evil that omnipotence itself can inflict upon the creature. And,
1st, Sin is a direct stroke at God’s sovereignty. Hence we read of the kingdom of Satan, in contradistinction to the kingdom of God: and in the conversion of a sinner, when grace is wrought in the heart, the kingdom of God is said to come into it: and the whole economy of the gospel is styled the kingdom of heaven. So that sin had translated God’s subjects into a new dominion: as amongst men, he who has committed a felony or a murder, usually flies the territories of his lawful prince; and so living in another kingdom, puts himself under the necessity of a new subjection.
Thus sin invades the throne of God, usurps his royalty, and snatches at his sceptre. But now there is nothing so tender, and sensibly jealous of the least encroachment, as prerogative; the throne admits of no partner, endures no competitor. Rule and enjoy all Egypt, says Pharaoh to Joseph, but still with this reserve, that in the throne I will be greater than thou.
No wonder therefore if God punishes sin, which is indeed treason against the King of kings, with death; for it puts the question, Who shall reign? It grasps at all, it strikes high, and is properly a blow given to the supremacy.
2dly, Sin strikes at God’s very being. In
And it matters not, that the infinite perfection of God sets him far above the boldest reaches of his rebel-creature. For it is enough to see the attempts of malice: God takes an estimate of the sinner by his will; he is as much a serpent now he hisses, as if he stung: for whatsoever a man has an heart to wish, if he had power he would certainly effect.
And now, if all this malignity lies wrapt up in the bowels of sin, let none wonder how it comes to deserve death; but admire rather, that God has not invented something greater than death, if possible, to revenge the provocation.
And thus I have finished the third and last general thing proposed
to be handled from the words: from which, and all the foregoing particulars, what
can we so naturally and so directly infer, and learn, as the infinite, incredible
folly, which acts and possesses the heart of man in all its purposes to sin! still
proposing to the sinner nothing but pleasure and enjoyment, advantage and emolument,
from the commission of that which will infallibly subject him to all the miseries
and killing sorrows that humanity is capable of. Sin plays the bait before him,
the bait of a little, contemptible, silly pleasure or profit; but it hides from
his view that fatal hook, which shall strike through his heart and liver, and by
which that great catcher and devourer of souls shall hold
I shall close up all with that excellent saying of the wisest
of men, in
In every sin which a man deliberately commits, he takes down a draught of deadly poison. In every lust which he cherishes, he embraces a dagger, and opens his bosom to destruction.
In fine, I have endeavoured to shew what sin is, and what death is, the certain inevitable wages of sin; and so, have only this short advice to add, and to conclude with: he who likes the wages, let him go about the work.
Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.
IT may at first seem something wonderful, especially since the
times of the gospel, that there should be so few men in the world happy, when happiness
is so freely offered and proposed by God, and withal so universally and eagerly
desired by men. But the obviousness of the reason will quickly supersede the wonder,
if we consider the perverse and preposterous way of men’s acting: who, at the same
time, passionately pursue the end, and yet overlook the means; catch at the good
proposed, but abhor the condition of the proposal. For all would enjoy the felicity
of seeing God, but scarce any can brook so severe a duty as to maintain a
pure heart; all would behold so entertaining and glorious a sight, but few
are willing to crowd for it into the narrow way. Men would reconcile their
future happiness with their present ease, pass to glory without submitting to the
methods of grace. So that the grand reason that so many go to hell, is because they
would go to heaven for nothing: the truth is, they would not go, but be caught
up to heaven; they would (if I may use the expression) coach it to the other
world, as Elias did; but to live as the same Elias did in this world, that they
cannot bear. In
But this great sermon of our Saviour teaches us much other things; a sermon fraught with the most refined and elevated doctrine, the most sublime and absolute morality that ever was vented into the world: far before all the precepts and most applauded doctrine of the philosophers; yea, as far before them in perfection and purity, as they were before Christianity in time. For they only played upon the surface and outside of virtue, gilding the actions, and giving some little varnish to the external behaviour of men: but Christianity looks through all this, searches the reins, and pierces into the inmost recesses of the soul, never resting till it stabs sin, and places virtue in the very heart.
An eminent instance of which we have in these words; which being so very plain and easy in themselves, ought not to be encumbered with any superfluous explication: and therefore I shall pass immediately to the discussion of them; which I shall manage under these four following heads. As,
I. I shall shew what it is to be pure in heart.
II. What it is to see God.
III. How this purity of heart fits and qualifies the soul for the sight or vision of God.
IV. And lastly, make some brief use and application of the whole.
I. And for the first of these, we must know, that the nature of purity in general cannot be better explained, than by its opposition to these two things.
1. To mixture. 2. To pollution.
1. And first of all, it excludes mixture; that is to say, all
conjunction with any different or inferior nature; purity still infers simplicity:
gold cannot be called pure, though never so great in bulk, if it has but the least
alloy of a baser metal. Though there be in the heart seeds of virtue, principles
of goodness and morality; yet if blended with a greater, or an equal degree of corruption,
that heart cannot challenge the denomination of pure: for, as Solomon says,
But now all mixture or composition is a kind of confusion; attempting
unity, where nature has made variety and distinction. It raises a certain war or
faction in the same compound; and the very cause of death, dissolution, and putrefaction,
in all sublunary bodies, is from the contest and clashing of contrary qualities
upon mixture; which never
2. Purity excludes also pollution, that is, all adherence of filth
and outward contagion; as a fountain is said to be pure, when there is no dirt or
soil cast into it, that may discolour or defile it. If the guilt of any gross sinful
act cleaves to the conscience, that conscience presently loses its purity and virginity.
Every such sin falls upon it like a blot of ink upon the finest linen or the cleanest
paper. In this sense St. Paul enjoins purity to Timothy;
Having thus shewn what purity is in the general notion of it, I shall now endeavour to shew wherein the purity of the heart consists. And that,
First, by way of negation. It does not consist in the external
exercise of religion; the heart does not always write itself upon the outward actions.
These may shine and glister, while that in the mean time may be noisome and impure.
In a pool you may see the uppermost water clear, but if you cast your eye to the
bottom, you shall see that to be dirt and mud. To rate a man’s internals by his
externals, and what works in his breast by what appears in his face, is a rule very
fallible. For we often see specious practices spread over vile and base principles;
as a rotten, unwholesome body may be clothed and covered with the finest silks.
There is often a μέγα χάσμα, many leagues
distance between a man’s behaviour and his heart. In
But still we must observe, that this assertion of not judging by the outward actions, is to be understood only of good actions, not of bad. For although an act materially and outwardly good may proceed from an heart which is stark naught; yet where the outward actions are bad, it is certain that the heart cannot be good. For the matter of the action, which is properly that which comes into the outward view, may be good, and yet the action itself, upon other accounts, be absolutely evil: but if the matter of the action be evil, (since evil is from any defect,) the whole action must be so too. And consequently, since a good tree cannot produce evil fruit, it is manifest that the heart which produces, and presides over those actions, is and must be evil.
But to return to what we were before about: that the outward piety of a man’s behaviour cannot certainly argue a pious and a pure heart, is evident, because there may be assigned several other principles, short of real piety, and yet sufficient to produce such a behaviour. As,
1st, A virtuous and strict education. Many are born into the world,
not only with the general taint of original sin, but also with such particular propensions,
such predominant inclinations to vice, that they
2dly, The circumstances and occasions of a man’s life may be such as shall constrain him to appear in an outwardly pious dress. As when a man’s dependance is upon persons virtuous and religious, and the whole scene of his life cast under those eyes that shall both observe and hate his impiety, there it is not for his interest to uncase and discover himself, and to follow the lure and dictates of a voluptuous humour. While Judas was to associate himself with Christ and his disciples, it concerned him, though he was really a devil, yet to personate and act the saint.
Moreover, when Providence has put a man into a low, a mean, or
an afflicted condition, the supplies and opportunities of many vices are thereby
cut off, and the man is not able to shew himself, or to draw forth those base qualities
which lie lurking in his breast. He neither drinks, nor whores, nor goes to plays,
but he may thank his purse, not his heart for it. Want and poverty bind him to his
good behaviour: and Providence thinks fit, in kindness to the world, to chain up
the fury and violence of his passions by the straitness of his fortunes. For such
is
3dly, The care and tenderness a man has of his honour, may engage
him to demean himself with some show of piety and religion. For there is scarce
any one so vicious (some few monsters, some years since amongst us, excepted) as
to desire or judge it for their credit, to be thought so. But generally, as every
such person would gladly die the death of the righteous, so he would willingly
live with the credit and reputation of the righteous too. The principle of honour
(even with persons not styled honourable) will go a great way; and a man will be
at the cost of a few seemingly virtuous actions to be reputed a virtuous person.
Men use to go to church in their best clothes; and it is for their credit to put
on the fairest appearance in a religious performance. We read how far this principle
carried the pharisees; and what a glorious outside the love of glory put upon them.
They prayed, they fasted, they gave alms, and in short had the very art of mortification;
Machiavel himself, though no great friend to religion, yet affirms,
and very frequently too, that the appearance and reputation of religion is advantageous;
and that, we know, is not to be acquired without many instances of practice, which
may affect and dazzle the spectators into admiration, and then make them vent that
admiration in applause. But what is all this to the purity of the heart, to the
sanctity of the inner man? It is all but the acting of a part, a piece of pageantry,
a mere contrivance of ambition, nothing but dress and disguise, and
Now in all these motives to a religious behaviour, we may observe this of them, that they are forced and preternatural, and raise a motion which they are not able to keep up. As when we see a stone thrown upwards, it moves only from the impression of an outward force, and not from the activity of an inward principle; and therefore it quickly sinks, and falls to the ground. In like manner, when there is not a stock or habit of purity in the heart, constantly and uniformly to diffuse the same into the outward actions, the appearance of piety will be found too thin and weak to support itself long. And let that man, whosoever he is, who acts in the ways of piety and virtue only upon the force and spring of external inducements, be warily observed and attended to, and it is a thousand to one but that some time or other his vice gives his hypocrisy the slip, and lays him open to the world, and convinces all about him, that how fair and specious soever the structure seemed to be which he had raised, yet the foundation of it was laid in the sand, or, which is worse, in the mud.
From all which I conclude, that purity of heart neither consists in, nor can certainly be proved by any external religious performances whatsoever. In the
Second place therefore, to shew positively wherein it does consist:
it consists properly in an inward change and renovation of the heart, by the infusion
of such a principle into it, as naturally suits and complies with whatsoever is
pure, holy, and commanded
Now there are three things more especially (amongst many others that might be mentioned) in which this purity of the heart does certainly and infallibly manifest itself. As,
(1.) In the purity and untainted sanctity of the thoughts. The
range of the thoughts is free, and may defy the inspection of the most curious and
inquisitive mortal beholder: they walk in such a retirement as is open to no eye,
but to that alone, to which nothing can be hid. Now when a man shall carry so strict
an hand over these, as to admit of no
For since the thoughts are so quick as to prevent all deliberation, and withal so unruly, as for the most part to admit of no control from reason, when it would either command or carry them out to, or remand, and take them off from any object; it follows, that whatsoever they run out freely and spontaneously upon, that the mind is full of, taken up and possessed with, so that it is, as it were, a mighty spring, incessantly and powerfully possessing and bending the thoughts that way. And therefore, let a man’s outward actions seem never so pure, never so unblameable; yet if the constant or main stream of his thoughts runs impure; if they take a liberty to rove over and delight in filthy, unclean objects; and if, where the practice of villainy is restrained, it is yet supplied by an active imagination; there a man may be said to be more cautious and reserved indeed, but not at all the more holy. For it is an undoubted argument, that his heart is of the same temper: since wheresoever the main haunt of the thoughts is, there must the heart be also.
(2.) The purity of the heart is infallibly seen in a sanctified
regulation of the desires. The first step
There was nothing from which David gathered the sincerity and
goodness of his heart so much as from the free and natural flow of his desires;
in
So that if any man now would certainly know whether his heart
be pure, he has here a compendious
(3.) The third, and that not the least argument of a pure heart,
is a fearful and solicitous avoiding of every thing that may tend to sully or defile
it. It perfectly hates sin, and therefore dreads the occasions of it: it makes a
man know no other way of working out his salvation, but with fear and
trembling. And in this great work, the trembling hand is still the steadiest,
and the fearful heart the most likely to be victorious. For we must know, that there
is nothing almost which we meet with, nothing which comes before us, but may be
to us an occasion of sin: some things indeed are so directly, and others are so
by accident. And therefore, whosoever he is, who would be wise unto salvation,
must absolutely fly from the former, and warily observe himself in the use of the
latter. For as the apostle says, that the wisdom from above is first pure;
so we may with equal truth affirm convertibly, that the purity which is from
above is first wise: that is to say, it considers and casts about for the best
methods, how to guard and secure itself against the assaults and stratagems of
In vain therefore does any one pretend to a pure heart, who puts
himself into the tempter’s walk, into the very road and highway to sin and debauchery.
For can any one really hate to be defiled,
And thus much for the first general thing proposed; which was to shew, what this purity of the heart is, and wherein it does consist. I proceed now to the
Second, which is to explain, what it is to see God. The
enjoyment which blessed spirits have of God in the other world is, both in the language
of scripture and of the schools, generally expressed to us by their seeing God;
as in Matt, xviii. 10, it is said of the angels, that they always behold the
face of God in heaven: and in
Now concerning a man’s thus seeing God, the schools raise several disputes, but the most considerable of them may come under these two heads.
1st, In regard every man shall be raised with a body as well as
a soul, they question, whether this vision shall be wholly mental, and transacted
within the soul; or whether the body shall be refined and sublimated to such a perfection,
and nearness to the spiritual nature, as to be also made a sharer in it? And whether
it be possible for a corporeal substance to see an incorporeal? To which, those
who had
(1.) That the knowledge of this is mere curiosity, and consequently such as a man may be without, and yet know never the less of what he is really concerned to know. (2.) That there is no express scripture to decide it either way; and natural philosophy is an incompetent judge in matters which can be known only by revelation. But,
2dly, In the next place, they put the question, whether the soul shall enjoy God, its chief good, by an act of the understanding in its intuition of him, or by an act of the will in its adhesion to him. And there are those who fiercely dispute it on both sides.
But to this also it may be answered, that as the soul shall enjoy a perfect good, so it must enjoy it after a perfect manner, so as to diffuse the enjoyment into every faculty that is capable of it: that is to say, it must enjoy it agreeably to a rational nature; which first receives a good by the apprehensions of the intellect, and then transmits it to the adhesion and embraces of the will. For a rational soul cannot love any good heartily, but it must first understand it; nor can it understand an excellent good thoroughly, but it must also love it. And consequently, I conclude, that the soul’s fruition of God is neither precisely by an act of the understanding, nor yet of the will, but jointly and adequately of both. But I shall not run out any further into these controversies, as bearing no such necessary relation to the matter before us.
Briefly therefore, by our seeing God is meant,
Now our enjoyment of God is expressed to us by our seeing him, rather than by any other way, I conceive, for these reasons.
(1.) Because the sense of seeing represents the object with greater clearness and evidence, than any of the other senses. Light, the great discoverer both of itself and of all things else, is apprehended only by seeing; and the eyewitness, we know, is still the most authentic. God will then shew himself to the soul so plainly and manifestly, he will so open and display his divine perfections to the understanding, that we shall know him as fully and clearly, as we do now those things which we actually see before our eyes; though still (as we must all along suppose) after much another way.
(2.) A second reason is, because the sense of seeing is of all
the other senses the most universally exercised and employed. For as long as a man
lives, every moment that he converses in the world, he is still looking upon something
or other; except it be when he is asleep, during which time he can scarce be said
to live. And therefore since our enjoyment of God hereafter shall be so continual
and without
(3.) A third reason of this expression may be, because the sense
of seeing is the sense of pleasure and delight; and that upon which the whole comfort
of our life principally depends. For, says the wise man in
Since therefore the enjoyment of God is the highest bliss and
pleasure, the most sublime and ravishing delight; for so the scripture speaks of
it, in
(4.) And lastly; our enjoyment of God is expressed to us by our
seeing him, because the sight is of all the other senses the most comprehensive
and insatiable.
In this respect therefore it gives us the fittest representation of our enjoyment of God in glory: who is a good of that immense latitude, that inexhaustible fulness, as to satisfy, or rather satiate the greediest and most grasping appetites of the soul. It is he only who can fill the eye, and keep pace with desire; and, in a word, answer all those cravings and emptinesses of a rational nature, which the whole creation together could never yet do. There will then flow in such a torrent of delight upon all our apprehensive faculties, that the soul will be even overcome, and lost in the enjoyment. As when a vessel is thrown into a river, the river first fills it, and then swallows it up. This therefore is the sum of our happiness in the next world, that we shall see God, and experiment that which we never could in this world; namely, that we shall so see, as to be filled with seeing.
And thus I have despatched the second general head proposed from the words; which was to explain what is meant by our seeing God: I come now to the
Third, which is to shew, how this purity of heart fits and qualifies
the soul for the sight or vision of
1. Of the great unlikeness; and, 2. Of the contrariety, which is between them.
1. And first, for the unlikeness. It is evident, from the clearest and most acknowledged principles of reason, that there can be no true enjoyment, but where there is a certain agreeableness or congruity between the object and the faculty; and if so, what pleasure can it be to a filthy polluted person to converse with those glories which shall both astonish and reproach him? What enjoyment can dirt have in the embraces of a sunbeam? God is infinitely pure, and till the soul has some degrees of purity too, it is no more fit nor able to behold him, than the black mire of the streets to reflect the orient colours of the rainbow upon the sun which shines upon it. God loves not to look upon any spiritual being, unless he can see his own image and likeness in it; and that cannot be seen, where the mirror is foul that should represent it.
2. The next ground of the unsuitableness between God and the soul,
is that great contrariety which a state of impurity causes between them. For it
is this which makes the soul look upon God as an enemy, as clothed with terror,
and as a consuming fire; and upon itself as obnoxious, and fit fuel to be
preyed upon and devoured by such a fire. The divine
Heaven is set forth to us as the great mansion of happiness and pleasure, but it is so only to the soul which is prepared for it, and by the renovation of its qualities made congenial to it. But to a soul possessed with the power and guilt of sin, it can be no more a delight, than the openest and the sweetest air can be to the fish; which perishes in the region and element which preserves its proper inhabitants, and dies by that which keeps us alive.
And thus we have seen how want of purity utterly incapacitates
the soul to enjoy God; namely, by rendering it both unlike him and contrary to him.
God’s infinite holiness, and his transcendent, amazing brightness, meeting with
an impure nature, both shames and consumes it; as the day not only discommends,
but also expels and drives away the night. Thou art of purer eyes than to behold
iniquity, says the prophet
Fourth and last thing proposed; which was to make some brief use
and application of the foregoing particulars. And what better use can be made of
them, than to correct our too great easiness and credulity, in judging of the spiritual
estate either of ourselves
We see many frequent our churches, hear sermons, and attend upon prayers; they are civil in their carriage, upright in their dealings, and there is no great blot or blemish visible upon their conversation; and God forbid, but a due value should be put upon such excellent preparatives to religion: but after all, will these qualifications certainly prove and place us amongst the pure in heart? Will men set up for heaven and eternity upon this stock? and venture their salvation upon this bottom? If they do, it may chance to prove a venture indeed. For do not our Saviour’s own words convince us, that the outside of the platter may be clean, and bright too, and yet in the inside remain full of all filth and nastiness? So that while one entertains the eye, the other may turn the stomach.
If we would prevent the judgment of God, we must imitate it; and
judge of ourselves, as he will
Briefly, and in a word, and with that to conclude: he who has
nothing to entitle him to this blessedness of seeing God, but a civil, inoffensive
smoothness of behaviour, a demure face, and a formal, customary attendance upon
a few religious duties, without a thorough renovation of the great
To which God be rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, both now and for evermore. Amen.
And they that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.
IT is common to all sects and institutions to have some distinguishing badges and characteristic names, by which they both express and distinguish their profession. But Christ, that came into the world not to imitate, but to correct and transcend both that of the Jews and of the philosophers, sequesters his doctrine from the empty formality of names, reducing it to its inward vigour and spirituality. So that even in respect of the most solemn appellation, we find that Christianity was some time in the world before the name of Christian; perhaps to convince the world, that religion is not a bare name, and that men might be Christians before they were called so; as daily experience demonstrates that they are often called so before they are.
And indeed the name of Christian, without the nature, leaves no more impression upon the soul, than the baptismal water that conveys it does upon the face. Wherefore Christ gives another-guess badge and mark of Christianity; such an one as constitutes the very essence of it; for still it is the same thing that gives both nature and difference to beings. Now this discriminating mark is in short comprised in the crucifixion of the flesh and the lusts thereof.
For the explication of which words, I shall shew,
I, What is meant by being Christ’s.
II. What by the flesh with the affections and lusts.
I. For the first of these. To be Christ’s is to accept of and have an interest in Christ, as he is offered and proposed in the gospel. Now Christ is offered and held forth to every particular person that expects to be saved by him under three offices; 1. his prophetical, 2. his kingly, and 3. his sacerdotal. In which account I give you not only the number of his offices, but also their order, as they stand related to us. And this order and economy of them is founded upon the very nature of the thing, and the natural order of religious actions. For in the procedure of nature there must be, 1. the knowledge of a duty; 2. the performance of it; 3. the reward. Correspondent to these is the economy of Christ’s offices. For, 1. by Christ’s prophetic office, revealing his mind to us, we come to know his will. 2. Then by his kingly office, ruling and governing us, we come to yield obedience to that will. 3. And thirdly, by his sacerdotal or priestly office, we come to receive the fruit of that obedience in our justification and salvation. For we must not think that our obedience is rewarded with eternal life for its own merit, but it is the merit of Christ’s sacrifice that procures this reward to our obedience.
Some indeed preposterously misplace these, and make us partake
of the benefit of Christ’s priestly office in the forgiveness of our sins, and our
reconcilement to God, before we are brought under the sceptre of his kingly office
by our obedience. But such must know that our interest in Christ as a lord
Now therefore, to sum this up into a firm conclusion, he, and he alone, is properly said to be Christ’s, who, upon a sound knowledge of and a sincere obedience to Christ’s will, stands justified and reconciled to God by the merit of his death and sufferings: and thus he is perfectly Christ’s, who has an interest in him considered under every one of his offices. This may serve to overthrow the wild and irrational justification of the antinomians, libertines, and lazy solifidians, who upon this ground only judge themselves to be Christ’s, because they believe they are: a way of justification, for its easiness, rather to be wished true than to be thought so. But easy things in religion are always suspicious, if not false; and such will find, that their belief is not the rule of God’s proceeding.
II. In the next place we are to see what is meant by the flesh,
and the affections and lusts. By the first I suppose I need not tell you
that it cannot be understood of the corporeal bulk of man, which together with the
soul makes up the whole compound; but it is rather a metonymy of the part for the
whole, or perhaps more properly, of the subject for the adjunct, the flesh for the
sin adherent to the flesh, as shall be made out by and by. In the mean time by
flesh we are to understand the whole entire body of sin and corruption, that
inbred proneness in our nature to all evil, in one word expressed by concupiscence,
Having thus given the explication of the words, and shewn what is to be understood by being Christ’s, and what by the flesh and its affections,
We shall lay the further prosecution of the text in these two things.
I. To shew why this vitiosity and corrupt habit of nature comes to have this denomination of flesh.
II. What is imported by the crucifying of it.
For the first of these. The whole depravation of our nature comes to be called flesh for these reasons.
1. Because of its situation and place, which is principally in
the flesh. Here it is placed, here it is enthroned. Concupiscence, I shew, was the
radix of all sin, and all the several kinds of sin, to which men are severally inclined,
are only so many modifications or different postures of concupiscence; and concupiscence
itself follows the crasis and temperature of the body; as we know the liquor for
the present receives the figure of the vessel into which it is infused.
But let not any one gather from what has been said, that I place
sin in the body only, not in the soul also: for in the body I place only the first
seeds and occasions of it, which immediately, upon the sociation of the soul with
the body, communicates and
How the body should affect the soul, that which is material work upon that which is immaterial, is, I confess, a problem hardly resolved in philosophy; but experience shews the truth of the thing by its apparent and undeniable effects: and reason itself will not prove that we ought to reject the thing, because we are ignorant of the manner, unless reason would prove also, that we might know every thing. But where philosophy seems to contradict a divine truth, there it is to be reputed vain, and we are to fetch the decision of the case from faith.
Divines, in the matter of original sin, which upon good grounds we believe, though I suppose few can explain the way of its propagation; they (I say) acknowledge that the soul, which is by immediate creation infused by God into the body, comes pure, unspotted, and untainted with the least sin; but upon the union and conjunction of it with the body, it contracts a pollution, and so the whole man becomes presently sinful; as the purest water issuing from the fountain, when it slides into a dirty and a muddy kennel, it immediately loses its clearness and virginity, and becomes as filthy as the place in which it runs. This discovers that it is the body that first sullies and besmears the soul; here is the malum propter vicinum malum, this is the unhappy neighbourhood; for no sooner are they joined, no sooner are the body and the soul made brothers, but they are brethren in iniquity.
Conformable to what has been said is the verdict of the holy scripture.
Hear the exclamation of St. Paul,
This truth, that sin has its first situation and place in the flesh, and that from hence it borrows its name in common dialect of scripture, is yet further clear from this; that the most mortified and sanctified persons in the world cannot by any means wholly discharge themselves from the relicks of sin and concupiscence while they are yet in the body; as having soaked and insinuated itself into the very vital constitution of it: but immediately after they die, and the soul comes to be delivered from the body, we hold that the sanctification of it is then perfect and consummate; so that it sins no more, the very being, as well as the guilt of sin, is then destroyed; the soul is then sprightly, pure, and vigorous, like the spirit or quintessence of a liquor extracted from the dregs and the captivity of matter; or like a pleasant bird that is released from a nasty cage: the soul then finds its activity restored with its purity, and so mounts up to heaven, where it enjoys its Maker by a bright and a clear intuition, and converses with him for ever: and this is an evident demonstration that the vitiosity of our nature is first situate and fixed in the flesh.
The papists indeed hold that the souls of the saints, at least
of the plebeian and ordinary saints, are not immediately, upon the dissolution of
the body, freed wholly from the being and inherency of sin, but are sent into a
place called purgatory, where the fire is to calcine and purge off the dross
of sin from the soul, before it can be fitted for the society of the blessed. But
this is a fabulous and a gross conceit, and, were it not gainful, unworthy the patronage
of any learned popish writer. For how can the fire burn the soul? and then how can
it burn off
2. The vitiosity of our nature is called flesh, because
of its close, inseparable nearness to the soul. There is an intimate conjunction
and union between the soul and sin; and the intimacy of their coherence is the cause
of the intimacy of their friendship. Sin is fixed in the heart, and therefore it
lies in the bosom. Hence, to shew the individual estate and the indissoluble tie
of matrimony, the Spirit takes a similitude from this,
The soul, while it is embodied, can no more be divided from sin, than the body itself can be considered without flesh. The nearness between these two, our soul and our corruption, is so great, that it arises to a kind of identity: hence to deny and conquer our sin is, in scripture language, to deny ourselves, implying that sin adheres so close to us, that it is a kind of second self.
I do not say that the substance of the soul is evil, or that the being and nature of it is sinful; but that the stain of sin contracted by it clings so fast to it, that it is scarce to be fetched off. Blackness is not the substance of the ink, yet it is inseparable from it.
See the nearness of sin to the soul, by observing the ways and
means by which God endeavours to part them, and without which they cannot be divided.
No less than the blood of the Son of God to wash off the stain of sin; no less than
the Spirit of God to subdue the power; nothing but an infinite
We misapply the command of loving our neighbour, and misplace our affection; for sin is our nearest neighbour, and we love that most; it cleaves, it adheres, it sticks to us; but it is as the viper did to Paul’s hand. And we may say of it as Christ did of Judas, He that betrays me is with me: sin is, as it were, engrafted into the soul, and thereby made connatural to it, and consequently as a stock upon which another scion is engrafted; the soul does not bring forth its own natural fruit, but the fruit of sin.
They are mutually knit and entwined one within
The same union is yet further evident from the state of every unsanctified, unregenerate person in his death: at which great change, though he leaves his body, he retains his sin; that still keeps close to his side, and follows him into another world. A man’s corruption, if dying in his sin, is to him like a bad servant or an unfaithful soldier; though it lives with him, yet it will be sure not to die with him. And this may be the second reason of this denomination.
3. A third reason why the vitiosity of our nature is called
flesh is, because of its dearness to us. And this founded upon the former, for
vicinity is one cause of love. Now there is nothing that we prosecute with a more
affectionate tenderness than our flesh; for as the apostle says,
But in the mean time the conscience may be wounded, the soul bruised and broke with the fatal blows of sin and temptation, and lie even gasping at the brink of eternal death, and yet we feel no pain there, neither seek for a remedy; it may faint and bleed, and we never ask whether there is any balm in Gilead, any spiritual surgeon to pour oil into our wounds. For see whether it is not the usual custom of men not to think of their souls till their body is given over; nor to send for the divine, till they are left by the physician; so dear is this flesh to us: for if it were not so, could we think the drunkard would ruin his soul to please his palate? would the unclean person pawn eternity for the gratification of a base appetite?
Nay, take a survey of all the arts, the trades, and the most prized inventions in the world, and you will find ten to four found out and employed either to please or adorn the flesh: it is for this that the artificer labours, and the merchant ventures; and we compass sea and land ten times oftener to make a gallant, than to make a proselyte. Justly therefore upon this account also does the Spirit express our sin by the name of flesh, for this has an equal share in our love.
Sin is our darling, our Delilah, the queen regent of our affections;
it fills all our thoughts, engrosses our desires, and challenges the service of
all our actions. Can there be any greater love than the love of a mother to her
child? And we know the scripture tells us, that sin is conceived and brought
forth
I shall not stand to shew the excessive love that the miserable,
bewitched soul of man bears to sin, much less shall I stand to prove it. Let it
suffice us to observe, from the constant, uncessant practices of the world, that
there is no cost, study, travail, and labour, either to preserve health, to defend
life, or to endear friends, which is not with an abundant overplus of charge and
expense freely and greedily laid out upon the satisfaction of sin, and that in its
most tyrannical and unreasonable demands. What that man in
This is their paramour, they court it, they go a whoring
after it, as the usual scripture expression is: they will not, though you fling
the vengeance of God and the fire of hell in their faces, be plucked away, but,
maugre all curses or promises, terrors or entreaties, they will even die in the
fatal embraces of their dear but killing corruption: and as some will rather rot
and perish, and be eat through with a gangrene or an ulcer, than undergo the painful
cutting and lancing of their flesh, because they are delicate and tender of it;
so the soul will, through the same tenderness to a cruel lust, see itself overgrown,
infected, poisoned, and at length ruined by it, rather than remedy
Now what has been hitherto discoursed of may, by way of inference, suggest these things to our consideration.
1. The deplorable estate of fallen man; whose condition is now such, that he carries his plague about him, and wears it something nearer to him than his shirt; that he encloses a viper in his bowels, feeds and maintains, and is passionately fond of his mortal enemy; and, what is the greatest misery of all, has it not in his power to be otherwise; he has a body that is not so much the instrument, or servant, as the dungeon of his soul: and sin holds him by such bonds of pleasure, so strong, so suitable to his perverted and diseased inclinations, that his ruin is presented to him as his interest, and nothing gratifies, delights, or wins upon him, but that which dishonours his Maker, and certainly destroys himself.
2. The next thing offered from hence to our thoughts is, the great
difficulty of the duty of mortification: this is a greater work than men are aware
of: it is indeed the killing of an enemy, but of such an enemy as a man thinks his
friend, and loves as his child; and how hard it is to put the knife to the throat
of an Isaac is easily imaginable. What! part with that that came into the world
with me, and has ever since lived and conversed with me, that continually lies down
and rises up with me, that has even incorporated itself into my nature, seized all
my appetites, and possessed all my faculties, so that it is
Surely there is no love to God less than that which will induce a man to lay down his life for God, that can enforce him to mortify a corruption for him; and this, one would think, should awaken those who sacrifice to their own dreams, who spread themselves paths of roses to a fool’s paradise, and design heaven upon those terms of easiness that the gospel knows not of: but it is an attempt that will cost many a smart blow, many a bitter rencounter, and many a passage through the fiery furnace, before the innate filth of our nature can be severed from us. And whatsoever measures a man may propose to himself, he will find, that to mortify a lust, and to be a Christian, is an harder work than now and then to lift up his eyes, to cry, Lord! Lord! or to hear an absolution, which perhaps does not at all belong to him.
3. In the third and last place, this declares to us the mean and
sordid employment of every sinner: he serves the flesh, that is, he is a drudge
and a scavenger to the most inferior part of his nature. It is a low and an unmanly
thing for any person to be laborious and solicitous, and to spend much time in dressing
and adorning his body; it shews him to be
If it be a preferment to handle sores and ulcers, to converse with diseases, and all the filth of a distempered body, then may it pass for a generous employment, to be sedulous in obeying the dictates of sin and the commands of the flesh; but as the service of God is perfect freedom, so the service of the flesh is perfect, entire, complete slavery.
II. I proceed now to the second general thing proposed for the handling of the words, and that is, to shew what is imported by the crucifixion of the flesh; under which I shall do these things.
1. I shall shew what is the reason of the use of it in this place.
2. What is the full force, sense, and significance of it.
3. Prescribe some means for enabling us to the duty signified by it.
4. Make some useful corollaries and deductions from the whole.
1. For the first of these: this word is here used by way of allusion
to Christ, of whose behaviour and sufferings every Christian is to be a living copy
and representation. Christ will have his death an example to excite, as well as
a sacrifice to save: and there is no passage in his life and death but is intended
for our instruction, as well as our salvation. Upon this score we are bid to
put on Christ, as a garment,
We read of Christ’s nativity: here every Christian is to turn an history into a precept, and read in himself the necessity of a new birth. We find the passion and the crucifixion of Christ for sin: now what can this better suggest to us, than the crucifying sin, the cause of his crucifixion? We read and admire his resurrection from the dead: certainly this might infer in us a spiritual resurrection from the death of sin and the grave, and stench of corruption.
Nay, if we have that Christian dexterity and skill of a proper application of these passages, we shall find a correspondent, homogeneous quality derived from each. We shall die with him, and we shall rise with him: we shall find something in his cross that shall kill our sins; something in his resurrection that shall revive our graces: for if we transfer and place it even upon a natural cause, what is it else, but for the body to sympathize with the head?
The Socinians indeed place the whole business of our redemption upon a bare imitation; and the truth is, to say no more, (if you will admit the expression,) they do indeed make Christ an example, and that in a much more ignominious way than the Jews did. But now though they place the whole redemption wrought by Christ in a bare following and expressing his example, let not us therefore transgress into the other extreme, and totally exclude this imitation; for undoubtedly Christ in all his sufferings left us a pattern, as well as paid a price.
There is none that seems to have so evangelical
Thus Paul as it were stretched himself upon the same cross with
Christ, and by exactly conforming to his sufferings and death, was advanced to the
similitude of his life. Hence it is said,
Certainly Paul, in
Having thus shewn the reason of the use of the word here, I proceed now to the second thing, which is,
2. To shew the full force and significance of it.
Crucifying therefore, as it is here applied to the corruption and depraved sinful disposition of our nature, imports these four things:
(1.) The death of it. The cross is the instrument of death, and to crucify is to kill. A few interrupted assaults and combats with a man’s corruption will not suffice; he may give it some blows, and wounds, and bruises, but after all these it may recover; and we know the seed of the woman was not only to bruise, but to break the serpent’s head.
He that will crucify his sin must pursue it to the very death.
Many, after they have been something humbled for their sin, and for a while have
used the means of mortification, so as to terrify it from a present acting, and
have took off something of the edge of its fury, conclude that the day is won, and
the enemy routed, when by sad experience they find at length that it is but a retreat,
and the return is
We are to crucify our corruptions, as the Jews did Christ; the whippings, scourgings, and buffetings were but the forerunners and beginnings of the grand suffering that was intended. It was his life and his blood that they thirsted after. Now it is but for a man to change the scene, and act the same upon his own corruption. Sin stands as a malefactor condemned to death by the law of God; and God has intrusted every man with the execution of his own sin; and God will require life for life; so that if a man lets his sin escape alive, the life of his soul must be its ransom.
There is nothing that betrays and ruins men, as to the great concerns of their eternal happiness, so much as half and imperfect mortifications of their sin, but supposed to be perfect and complete: for they give sin rather a respite than a ruin; a time of breathing and of re-collecting its strength, and a more prevailing insinuation upon the heart, upon the vicissitude and the return: so that a man is strangely baffled and set backwards in the main work of repentance, while he sees all his endeavours unravelled, and his sin grow upon him afresh, like weeds only cropt and cut, whereas they should have been rooted up.
If a man thinks that he has given a shrewd blow to his lust, let
him know that this is an argument for him to pursue his advantage, and to redouble
his strokes upon it, to a perfect conquest, rather than to acquiesce, as if he had
achieved something sufficient to acquit himself in the combat. The utmost cruelty
Wherefore when we are thus commanded to crucify the flesh, let every one understand the full latitude of this precept; and remember that he is charged to kill his corruption. God’s hatred is directed to the life and being of sin; and for a man to spare that, is to be absurdly cruel to his own soul. To strike it, to war against it, without designing its death, is but hypocrisy. A Saul may captivate and imprison an Agag, but a pious Samuel will slay him.
(2.) As it implies death, so it further imports a violent death. Sin never dies of age. It is as when a young man dies in the full fire and strength of his youth by some vehement distemper; it as it were tears and forces and fires his soul out of his body. He that will come and fight it out with his corruption to the last, shall find, that it will sell its life at a dear rate; it will strive and fight for it, and many a doubtful conflict will pass between that and the soul. It may give a man many a wound, many a foil, and many a disheartening blow: for, believe it, the strong man will fight for his possession.
Never think to dispossess him by a bare summons, or imagine that
a man can recover the mastery of his heart and his affections by a few prayers and
broken humiliations. No, such a mortifying course must be taken, and such constant
violences and severities
The soul is engaged with such an enemy as will require both the onsets of force and the stratagems of art. Sin will never quit its hold quietly; but, like the Devil, who if we hear is conjured down, it is always in a storm. That man that allows himself in his sin, and humours his corruption, let him consider, that if God ever intend to save him from it, what it will cost him to conquer it; kill it he must, but then it will not be killed like a lamb, which resists not the knife, but like a wolf or a wild boar; he must run it down and conquer it, before he can kill it; and though God do give him the grace to conquer it in the issue, yet he must go the hazard and the dubious adventure of being conquered himself. When a man is put to effect any thing with violence, it is troublesome to him that does, as well as grievous to him that suffers it. This therefore is the second thing implied in the crucifixion of sin, to despatch it by a violent death.
(3.) To crucify the flesh with the affections of it imports a painful, bitter, and vexatious death. Let us but reflect upon our Saviour: he was nailed to the tree, and that through those parts which were most apprehensive of pain, the hands and the feet; which members, by reason of the concurrence of the nerves and sinews there, must needs be of quickest sense: thus he hung, in the extremity of torture, till, through the unsupportable pressures of pain, he at length gave up the ghost.
Now we are still to take the former observation along with us, that the occasion of the use of this expression here is an allusion to Christ’s crucifixion: so that the crucifying the flesh must express the pain also, or the resemblance would not be perfect. This supposed, it would be well that such as are quick and forward to profess the name and undertake the rigour of a Christian course, would first sit down and calculate and ponder the difficulties, the hard, grating, and afflicting contrariety that it bears to the flesh. They are to live as upon the rack; to hear the cries of a tormented, dying corruption, without relenting; when our greatest desires thirst and beg for satisfaction, they are to be answered only with renewed exercises of mortification; when we have got them upon the cross, we are to treat them as the Jews did Christ; when they thirst and call out for their former pleasures, to give them the vinegar and the gall of sharper and sharper severities. The cravings of our dearest and most beloved affections are to be denied; and what a torment is it when desire is upon the career, to separate between the enjoyment and the appetite! It is like rending the skin from the flesh, or the flesh from the bone: yet this is to be done; nor are we to be surprised with wonder at it; for certainly no man was ever crucified without pain.
The punishment of the cross is of all others the quickest and
the most acute; it is the universal stretching of all the limbs from the joints,
so universal, that there is not the least part, sinew, or fibre in the body, but
it is distended. So the mortification of sin is to be so general and diffused, as
not only to fix upon the bulk and body of sin, but to
Every man should remember, that for all his indulgence to sin, sin will not spare him; even that corruption that lies in his bosom will prosecute him, and cry out for justice against him at the judgment of the great day. Besides, why should we grudge at the painfulness of this duty, when it is confessed, that every wound given to sin cannot but pain the sinner; but then if we consider withal, that God has decreed to pardon and save none, without giving them some taste of the smart and bitter fruit of sin, we have cause to adore his mercy in this, that the pain we take in mortifying sin, will be the only pain that we shall ever endure for it.
(4.) In the fourth and last place, crucifixion denotes a shameful
and a cursed death; it is such an one as was marked out and signalized with a peculiar
malediction, even of old, by God himself,
Thus therefore must the corruption and vitiosity of our nature be dealt with. God has doomed it to death, without the benefit of so much as dying honourably. If there be any scorn, loathing, and detestation due to a dying offender, certainly it is much more due to the sin that made him so. Hereupon God has provided one great instrument for the mortifying of sin, which is the irksome shame of confession: I do not mean the auricular, pickpocket confession of the papists, but public confession, such an one as David exercised, when he confessed his sins before the whole congregation; and such an one as the primitive Christian church required of scandalous excommunicate persons, before they were readmitted into its communion. And indeed if we consider the temper of man’s mind, confession is of all other penalties the most shameful; shameful I mean to sin, though glorious to the confessing sinner.
Hence also humiliation for sin is expressed by taking shame
to ourselves. And certainly if shame is not judicially awarded as the punishment,
it will naturally follow as the fruit and effect of sin. See all the cursed deaths,
the confusion and consternation that attends malefactors: it is all to be ascribed
to this cursed cause, that they would not shame their sin, and therefore their sin
has now shamed and confounded them. Considering therefore how sin has stained the
beauty of our nature, and covered it with the shames and dishonours of corruption,
whatsoever we do or can inflict upon it of this kind,
Having thus shewn what is imported by the crucifying of sin, I proceed now to the third thing proposed.
3. Which is, to prescribe some means for the enabling of us to the performance of this duty. Two therefore I shall mention as conducible to this crucifixion of the flesh, with its affections and lusts.
(1.) The first is a constant and pertinacious denying them in all their cravings for satisfaction. A man by fasting too long may come to lose his stomach; so an affection abridged and tied up from its proper gratification comes by degrees to be chastised and even wearied into sobriety; for frequent disappointments in a thing eagerly desired will at length leave a kind of indifference in the desires as to that thing. As on the contrary, every gratification of a corrupt appetite exasperates, calls forth, and enlarges it to new, and greater, and more restless expectations.
Let a man therefore begin the crucifixion of his flesh in these negative mortifications; that is, when his voluptuous humour is clamorous for pleasure, let him not answer any of those calls: if he would not maintain it, let him not feed it: he will find that so much as it wants of food, it will lose of its fierceness. This is the course taken for the taming of wild beasts, to reduce and order them by the disciplines of hunger, by long and frequent frustrations of their ravenous appetites.
And the reason of this course is founded in a natural cause. For
though the design of every appetite is to purvey for nature, and to derive strength
to that by receiving such and such objects; yet by
And he that takes up a resolution to crucify his intemperance, luxury, or uncleanness, yet when they call for their usual refection, and a fair occasion knocks at his door, or his companions call upon him, has no power to deny either the entreaty of his appetite within, or to slight the invitation of tempting objects from without, he may as well expect to tame a wolf by feeding him, or to extinguish a flame by heaping fuel upon it, as to mortify a sin upon these terms. His attempt is absurd, his success desperate, and his lust must and will prevail.
2. The other means to crucify a corrupt affection, is to encounter
it by actions of the opposite virtue. This differs from the former thus: that that
was only the denying of fuel to a fire, but this a pouring water upon it, and so
vanquishing it by the prevalence of a contrary element. He that is profane, let
him subdue his profaneness by the exercise of prayer and meditation. He that is
covetous, let him dispossess his mind of that vice by actions of charity and liberality:
for as vicious actions frequently repeated produce a vicious habit, that infects
and ferments the whole soul; so the like frequent repetition of virtuous actions
does by degrees loosen, and at length totally unfix and drive out that habit of
vice. Now this is both the nobler and
And thus much for the means by which we may be enabled to crucify the flesh with the affections and lusts.
4. Come we now to the fourth and last thing, viz. To see what may be drawn by way of consequence and deduction from what has hitherto been delivered.
(1.) First of all then we collect the high concernment and the absolute necessity of every man’s crucifying his carnal, worldly affections. I know no work so difficult and unpleasing, but its necessity is an abundant argument to enforce it. And I suppose every one will grant, that it is necessary for him to be a Christian: yet unless he has crucified the flesh he cannot be so, and his assuming that title is only a nullity and an usurpation.
Upon this small hinge therefore turns the grand determination
of our eternal estate, whether as to happiness or misery. The whole round of man’s
happiness, from the first dawnings of it in the revelations of grace, to the last
consummation of it in glory, runs solely and entirely upon this. Without this, not
so much as the blessing of word and sacraments, but it is poisoned with a curse.
For first, he that comes to Christ’s table who is not Christ’s, is in God’s esteem
only as a dog catching at the children’s bread. He that prays to Christ,
and yet is not Christ’s, is but as a rebel presenting a petition; if he intrudes
into the participation of ordinances, and the society of the saints, he is a guest
without either
(2.) In the next place, we gather a standing and infallible criterion, by which to distinguish those that are not Christ’s from those that are, and consequently to convince us how few Christians there are in the world; or, to speak more closely, how few Christians there are in Christendom; and that the common use and acceptation of this word is much larger than its real signification. Much the greater number and proportion of men lie wallowing in all the filth and the pollutions of the flesh. But I suppose the precedent discourse has been a sufficient demonstration, that he and he alone has a right to this glorious appellative of a Christian, and to the privileges that attend it, who has mastered his depraved nature, cashiered his corrupt inclinations, and offered violence to his dearest, when sinful affections; so that he overcomes and triumphs, and sees his sin bleeding at his feet. In sum, he only is Christ’s who has executed the utmost of that pious cruelty upon his sin, that we have seen hitherto imported by crucifixion.
But it will be replied, that this is an hard and a discouraging assertion, that none should be reputed Christ’s, unless he has fully crucified and destroyed his sin.
But to this I answer, that we must here distinguish
But to shew what is the least degree of the crucifixion of sin indispensably required to entitle a man to this transcendent privilege of being Christ’s, I shall lay down this position, viz. that he in a true evangelical sense is to be reputed Christ’s, who has crucified his sin, as to an active resolution against it; I say active resolution; where this term active does not illustrate, but imply the nature of it. There is a kind of identity in these terms active resolution, as when we say, a rational man, where the predicate does not describe, but include the subject.
Which, by the way, is a sure, unfailing rule for men to try the
sincerity of their resolutions by. Many are prone to think, that they are resolved
against sin, when indeed they only deceive and abuse themselves, and are not so:
for that is no resolution that is not seconded with vigorous, suitable
And indeed, if this does not, we may conclude, according to that of our Saviour, though in a different sense, when the Son of man comes will he find faith upon the earth? For if this be rejected as no sufficient condition to interest a man in the merits of Christ’s death, and the redemption he has purchased, as God indeed has limited the number of saints to very few, so I am afraid that upon these terms we shall reduce it almost to none, and make the passage to heaven yet narrower than ever God made it; who, even in the midst of a sinner’s condemnation, is the God that delights to save, and not to condemn.
To which God be rendered and ascribed, &c.
Woe to him that buildeth a town with blood.
THIS short prophecy, out of which I have selected this portion of scripture to discourse of upon this sad and solemn occasion, was uttered (as interpreters do conjecture, for know it certainly they cannot) about the latter end of the reign of king Josiah, or at least in the following reign of his son, but however some time before the Babylonish captivity, that being the great event which it foretells, and the chief subject of which it treats.
The whole prophecy contains in it these two parts: 1st, A double complaint made by the prophet: 2dly, A double answer returned to it by God.
1. And first for the complaint. The prophet cries out of the horrid impiety, the great perfidiousness, and general corruption of the Jewish nation, then grown to that height, that he was forced to invoke the justice of heaven against them, as being too strong for all human control, too big for reproof, and fit only to upbraid the means of grace by their incorrigible impenitence under them.
This loud and grievous complaint of his prophet, God answers with
the denunciation of a severe judgment against the persons complained of, by bringing
in upon them an army of the Chaldeans, that hasty and bitter nation, as they
are styled in the
Which dreadful answer of God is so far from satisfying the prophet’s complaint, that it only exasperates his grief, and provokes him to another, in which he expostulates with God the method of this his judgment, that he should punish the wickedness of his people by persons so much viler and wickeder than themselves; that vice should be employed to punish sin, and that his church should be chastised, and, if you will, reformed by persons notable for nothing but blood and rapine, luxury and idolatry.
To this complaint also God is pleased to rejoin, and to clear
the justice, equity, and reason of his proceeding, by shewing that it was not to
be rated by the qualification of the instruments made use of in it; which instruments
he would be sure to account with when they had done his work; and that, as he designed
his people for the rod, so he designed the rod itself for the fire. He assures his
prophet, and with him all pious and humble persons, who could lift their faith above
their sense, that as Nebuchadnezzar and his army were not for any worth or piety
in themselves suffered to captivate and trample upon God’s people, and to make havock
of
The words of the text contain in them a woe or curse, denounced personally and directly against the great head of the Chaldean empire Nebuchadnezzar, but by consequence against the whole empire itself. The curse is both for the ground, object, and measures of it considerable: and therefore I shall cast the prosecution of the words into these five particulars.
I. I shall shew the ground or cause of this curse, which the text declares to be, that justly abhorred sin of blood-guiltiness.
II. I shall shew the condition of the person against whom this curse was denounced. He was such an one as had actually set up and established a government by blood.
III. I shall shew the latitude and extent of the curse, and what is comprehended in it.
IV. I shall shew the reasons why a curse or woe is so peculiarly denounced against this sin.
V. And lastly, I shall apply all briefly to the present sad occasion.
I. And first for the ground and cause of the curse here denounced,
which was the crying, crimson sin of bloodshed; a sin, in the hatred and detestation
of which heaven and earth seem to strive for the mastery. The first great disturbance
in the world after the fall of man was by a murderer; whom the vengeance of God
pursued to that degree, that he professed that his punishment was greater than
he could bear, though he himself could not say, that it was greater than he
had deserved. Accordingly in all succeeding generations it has still been the care
of Providence, both by civil and religious means, to extinguish all principles of
savageness in the minds of men, and to make friendship and tenderness over men’s
lives a great part of religion. But by nothing has this been so highly endeavoured,
as by the rules and constitution of Christianity, the last and noblest revelation
that God has made of his mind and will to the sons of men. In which all acts of
fierceness, violence, and barbarity, are so strictly provided against, that there
are few injuries in which patience and sufferance are not recommended instead of
the most just and reasonable pretensions to revenge: nay, and so very tender is
it of men’s lives, that it secures them against the very first approaches and preparations
to murder, by dashing even angry thoughts, and denouncing damnation to vilifying,
provoking words: so that we have both law and gospel equally rising up against this
monstrous sin: and the sentence of both confirmed by the eternal
But now the execution of this law being upon no grounds of reason to be committed to every private hand, God has found it necessary to deposit it only in the hands of his vicegerents, whom he intrusts and deputes as his lieutenants in the government and protection of the several societies of mankind; and so both to ennoble and guard their sceptres, by appropriating to the same hands the use of the sword of justice too. From which it follows, that the law has not the same aspect upon sovereign princes, that it has upon the rest of men; nor that the sword can, by any mortal power, be authorized against the life of him to whom the sole use of it is by divine right ascribed. Upon which account, if it so fall out that a prince invades either the estate or life of a subject, that law, that draws the sword of justice upon the life of any private person doing the same things, has no power or efficacy at all to do the same execution upon the supreme magistrate, whose supremacy, allowing him neither equal nor superior, renders all legal acts of punishment or coercion upon him (the nature of which is still to descend) utterly impossible.
But what! does God then approve, or at least connive at those
wicked actions in princes, that he so severely takes revenge of in others? No, certainly,
the guilt is the same in both, and under an equal abhorrence with God, and shall
equally be accounted
II. The second thing to be considered is, the condition of the
person against whom this woe or curse is denounced. He was such an one as had actually
established a government and built a city with blood. We know that as soon as Cain
had murdered his brother, he presently betook himself to the building of a city.
And so indeed it falls out, that bloodiness has usually a connection with building,
and that upon some ground of reason: forasmuch
But when God shall send a curse, it shall go with a vengeance,
and make its way into the very heart of Babylon, climb its high walls, and break
through its brass gates, and drive the tyrant with these very words in his mouth
from his throne and all his imperial glories, to herd it with the beasts of the
field, till a better mind should fit him for a better condition. For it is worth
our observing, that God takes
III. The third thing proposed was, to shew the latitude and extent of this woe or curse, and what is comprehended in it. Concerning which, there is no doubt but it includes the miseries of both worlds, present and future. And if we go no further than the present, it is grievous enough, and made up of these following ingredients.
1. That it fastens a general hatred and detestation upon such men’s persons. For cruelty and bloodiness, armed with power, is the proper motive and the dreadful object of men’s fears; and fear and hatred usually keep company; it being very hard, if not impossible, to assign that person, who has not the same share and proportion in men’s hatred, that he has in their fears. Every man flies from such an one, as from a public ruin or a walking calamity, who, which way soever he turns himself, both looks and brings certain desolation. He converses amongst the living as an enemy to men’s lives; as a sword or a dagger, which the nearer it comes, the more dangerous it is.
Cruelty alarms and calls up all the passions of human nature,
and puts them into a posture of hostility and defiance. Every heart swells against
a tyrant, as against a common enemy of mankind, and
Who so hated as Cain, Nebuchadnezzar, Saul, Herod, and such other bloodsuckers? All the glory of their power and magnificence was smothered in the hatred of their cruelty, deriving a just hatred upon their persons: for it is the concernment of mankind, and of humanity itself, to abhor such destroyers. He that shews the power he has over men’s lives only by taking them away, must not think to command or reign over their affections.
Neither is this hatred without an equal scorn; for the same temper that is cruel is also sordid and degenerous, and consequently as fit an object for contempt. What so cruel, and withal so base, as a wolf? But on the other side, true worth and fortitude is never bloody. Gold, the noblest of metals, is healing and restorative; and it is only iron, the vilest, with which we wound and destroy.
Let this therefore be the first ingredient of the woe discharged
against the tyrant and bloody person, to be universally hated and scorned; to go
no whither, but with a retinue of curses at his heels; to
2. The second ingredient of the woe here denounced against bloody persons is, the torment of continual jealousy and suspicion. He that is injurious, is naturally suspicious; and he that knows that he deserves enemies, will always suppose that he has them, and perhaps at length by suspecting come to make them so.
But now, is it not the height of misery thus like a wild beast
still to fear and to be feared? for the mind to be perpetually struggling with its
own surmises, and first to create torments, and then to feel them? The breast of
a tyrant is like a sea, it swallows up and devours others, and is still restless,
troubled, and unquiet in itself. Could Herod the Great be more poorly and basely
unhappy, than to be afraid of poor sucking infants, and not to think himself safe
in the throne, unless he stormed nurseries and invaded cradles? A kingdom can be
desirable upon no other account, but because it seems to command more of the materials
of happiness, and to afford greater opportunities of satisfaction to the desires
of a rational nature, than can possibly be had in any inferior condition. But now
what real happiness can that prince or great man find, that has
And therefore if the tyrant is brought to this pass, as to feel the reflections of his tyranny over others in that which his own jealousy exercises upon himself, and if his own thoughts plot and conspire against him, his very diadem is but a splendid mockery, his throne a rack, and all his royalty nothing else but a great and magnificent misery.
3. The third ingredient denounced against him that endeavours
to raise and settle a government with blood is, the shortness and certain dissolution
of the government that he endeavours so to establish. There is no way by which God
so usually punishes villainous designs, as the disappointment of them, by those
very methods and instruments by which they were to have been accomplished. It is,
as I may so say, the great sport of Providence, to ruin unjust titles and usurped
government by their very supports. But of all the means employed by tyrants for
this purpose, there is none so frequently made use of, though none so often proves
fatal to the user, as this of savageness and cruelty; innocent blood always proving
but a bad cement to build the walls of a city with. For how do such governments
pass the world like so many furious blasts of wind, violent and short! as it were
out of breath and expiring with their own violence. How do tyrants, having by much
blood and rapine advanced
Was it not thus also with Cinna and Marius, and afterwards with Sylla himself, who had nothing of Dictator Perpetuus but the name?
How soon was the family of bloody Saul extinct! And for Herod the Great, did not the same cruelty, for which he deserved to be childless, almost make him so? Archelaus, the only son he left, succeeding but to part of his kingdom, and that too but for a short time. And when afterwards Herod Antipas the tetrarch was routed, and lost all his army in a war with Aretas, king of Arabia, and when by the subtilty of Agrippa he was outwitted and outed of all, and also banished, Josephus himself says, that even the Jews ascribed all this to a divine vengeance upon him for the barbarous and unjust murder of John the Baptist.
And for the Jews themselves, does not Christ, in the very same place in which he foretells the ruin and destruction of Jerusalem, upbraid that bloody city with her killing God’s prophets, and stoning those that were sent unto her?
And lastly, whereas the high priest counselled
The sin of blood is a destroying, wasting, murdering sin; murdering others, besides those whom it kills; it breaks the back of governments, sinks families, destroys for the future, reaches into successions, and cuts off posterities.
4. The fourth ingredient of the woe here denounced against the bloody builders of governments, is the sad and dismal end that usually attends such persons. He that delights to swim in blood, is for the most part at length drowned in it; and there is a kind of fatal circulation by which blood frequently wheels about and returns upon the shedder of it. How did Cyrus the Persian verify this by a peculiar significancy of death, having his head cut off, and thrown into a tub of blood! How did the fratricide Romulus die, being torn in pieces by the senate! How did Sylla expire in a murdering fit, causing one to be strangled before him in his chamber, and with that passion so disturbing himself, and enraging his distemper, that within a few hours he breathed out his own bloody soul!
And, to come to the sacred story, how did Samuel treat Agag?
As thy sword has made many childless,
Should I endeavour to give a full rehearsal of all such like instances, I must transcribe the stories of all times, which are scarce fuller of pages, than of examples of this kind. Blood seldom escapes revenge, since it is so easily followed and found out by its own traces. And thus much for the third thing proposed; which was, to shew the latitude and extent of the curse or woe here denounced against bloody persons, and the several plagues comprehended in it. I come now to the fourth particular, which is,
IV. To shew the reasons why a curse or woe is so peculiarly denounced against this sin.
Many may be assigned, but I shall produce only these.
1. The first is, because the sin of bloodshed makes the most direct breach upon human society, of which the providence of God owns the peculiar care and protection.
Concerning which we must observe, that every man has naturally a right to enjoy such things as are suitable to and required by the rational appetites of his nature; in the due and lawful satisfaction of which properly consists his well-being in this world, which is every man’s birthright by an irrevocable charter from God and nature. For whosoever is born, has a right to live; and whosoever has a right to live, has a right also to live well. Now that men might the better secure both their lives or being, and withal compass such lawful satisfactions to themselves, as should be requisite to their well-being, they first entered into society, and then, to preserve society, put themselves under government. So that the end of society is a man’s enjoyment of himself, and the end of government is society. For in the first and most natural intention of it, no governor, merely as such, is made absolute lord of the lives or proprietor of the estates of those whom he governs, but only a trustee by God to secure them in the free possession and enjoyment of both. And therefore that governor that wrings away a man’s estate, or destroys his life, not yet forfeited to the community he lives in by any crime, is in God’s account a thief and a murderer, and so shall hereafter be dealt with by him as such; though in the mean time (as I said before) neither reason nor religion can authorize the subjects to revenge these injuries upon their governor.
From whence we learn the reason why God so much concerns himself to punish the unjust shedder of blood; first, because he is the great trespasser upon human society, by being destructive to the lives of men; and next, because if he who is so chances to be a sovereign prince, there is no provision in the ordinary course of human justice to call such a destroyer to account.
As for the life of man, it is an enjoyment in comparison of which
nature scarce values all others: this is the very apple of his eye, sensible of
the least touch, and irrecoverable after the first loss. For if a man loses his
estate, he may get another; and if he loses his reputation, he may perhaps recover
it; or if he cannot, he may live without it, not very happily indeed, but yet he
may live. But if the tyrant takes away his life, there is no retrieving of that;
this sweeps away being and well-being at one blow: the dying man parts with all
at one breath, and is but one remove from annihilation; not so much as his very
thoughts remaining, but they also perish,
And now when a tyrant by shedding blood has provoked civil justice, and by shedding so much has put himself beyond the reach of it, does not the matter itself seem to appeal to a superior providence, to invoke the justice of Heaven to make bare its arm in the behalf of injured and oppressed right?
Blood certainly shall not go unrevenged, though it be the greatest
Herod that sheds it, and the meanest infant that loses it; though whole parliaments
and armies shall conspire against the life of the innocent and the helpless. Briefly,
it belongs to God, as the supreme governor of the world, to revenge
2. The second reason why God so peculiarly denounces a woe against
the sin of bloodiness, is not only for the malignity of the sin itself, but also
for the malignity of those sins that almost always go in conjunction with it, particularly
for the abhorred sins of fraud, deceitfulness, and hypocrisy. The two great things
that make such a breach upon the peace and settlement of the world are force and
fraud. For all men that are miserable become so either by being driven or cheated
out of their enjoyments. Hence the Spirit of God, in
If we look into history, we shall scarce find any one remarkably cruel, who was not also noted for his dissimulation. But we need not much trouble histories; for has not all the bloodshed amongst us, from the blood of the prince to that of the peasant, issued from the most devout pretences of reformation? Has not the nation been massacred by sanctified murderers, who came into the field masked with covenants and protestations, quoting scripture while they cut throats, and singing psalms while they plundered towns; destroying their prince’s armies and shooting at his person, while in the mean time they swore that they fought for him?
But this way and method of proceeding is but natural. For men
must be first deceived out of their
But now there is scarce any thing that God hates more thoroughly, and punishes more severely, than deceit and falseness; for it is most properly a defiance of God; who is always either solemnly invoked, or at least tacitly supposed, for the great witness of the sincerity of men’s dealings; and if men use not truth in these, the great bond of converse is dissolved.
No wonder therefore if bloodiness draw after it such a woe, having always such a sin in its company, and if the curse falls heavy, being procured by two of the greatest sins in the closest conjunction.
And thus much for the fourth particular, which was to shew the several ingredients contained within the compass or latitude of the curse or woe here denounced. I descend now to,
V. The fifth and last, which is, to apply all to this present occasion.
I shew at the beginning, that ever since the creation of mankind,
God has all along manifested such a solicitous care for the lives of men, the noblest
of all his creatures, that he has not secured them only by severe laws established
against murder, but also by making kindness, mercy, and benevolence a great part
of religion; and of all other religions, has he chiefly wove these excellent and
benign qualities into the very heart and vital constitution of Christianity. By
how much the more detestable, and for ever accursed, must those miscreants appear,
who
But to shew further how close and home the subject-matter of the text comes to the business of this annual solemnity, we will survey the correspondence that is between them, as to the three main things contained in the words. The first was a charge of unjust effusion of blood. The second was the end or design for which it was shed, namely, the setting up of a government. And the third and last was a woe or curse denounced against the person that endeavours to establish himself by such a course.
As for the first, we must know, that all unjust bloodshed is twofold. 1. Either public, and acted by and upon a community, as in a war. Or, 2. Personal, in the assassination of any particular man.
1. As for that which is public; it is as certain, that he who
takes away a man’s life in a war, commenced upon an unjust cause, and without just
authority, is as truly a murderer, as he that enters his
2. The other sort of unjust bloodshed is, the assassination of
particular persons: and had not our
Blood therefore we see has been shed amongst us to some purpose: the first thing in which the text is answered by the business of this day.
The second was, the end or design for which the blood here spoken
of was shed, namely, the erecting or setting up of a government. And was not the
very same thing drove at by all our pious murderers? For out of the ruins of a glorious
church and monarchy, and all those slaughtered heaps of men sacrificed to the cause
of loyalty on one side, and of rebellion on the other, did there not at length rise
up a misshapen, monstrous beast with many heads, called a commonwealth; a pack of
insolent, beggarly tyrants, who lorded it as long as they were able, till
So then, the parallel we see holds good thus far; that our villains reared themselves a government by the blood they shed, as well as those mentioned by the prophet in the text.
And now, in the third and last place, have they not, think we, also as full a right and title to the woe and curse there denounced in the same words? Yes, assuredly; there being no persons under heaven that more deserved to drink off the very dregs of God’s vengeance, and to empty all his quivers, than these monsters did.
As for the curse that befell these bloody builders of government, I shew, that it manifested itself eminently in two respects.
1. In the shortness of the government so set up. And was it long
that these murderers of their prince possessed the government they so usurped? Within
2. Another part of the curse attending the bloody raisers of government,
was the general hatred that always follows such persons. And of this I think our
usurpers had as large a portion as ever light upon the heads of mortal men. For
in the most flourishing estate of all their greatness they were encompassed with
curses as well as armies; men being scarce able to keep down the inward boilings
of revenge, and to restrain their tongues and hands from ministering to that fulness
of hatred that swelled within their hearts. Men hated them even in the behalf of
human nature, and for the vindication of common humanity. And still so much and
so justly abhorred are they, that all the pardons and indulgences, all the good
words, all the great offices and preferments that can be bestowed upon them, will
never be able to sweeten their memory, nor rescue them from the detestation of all
sober persons and true lovers of their country. And the truth is, to speak the severest
words of these vipers is not (as
But it is well that there is a punishment for villains in the general hatred of mankind; and this is the lot, this the punishment of our rebels: but as for any other penalties that use to descend upon traitors and murderers from the hand of human vengeance, these they have for the most part escaped, as having rebelled under a lucky star, which has prospered their villainies and secured their persons in this world, till the great Judge of all things shall recognise the cause of abused majesty and religion in another, and there award such a sentence upon the violators of them, as shall demonstrate to men and angels, that verily God is righteous; doubtless there is a God that judgeth the world.
To whom be rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, both now and for evermore. Amen.
For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the Devil.
THERE is nothing that contributes so much to the right understanding of the nature of any thing or action, as a true notion of the proper end and design of it; the ignorance of which bereaves mankind of many of the blessings of heaven: because oftentimes while they enjoy the thing, they yet mistake its use; and so pervert the intentions of mercy, and become miserable amidst the very means of happiness.
Certainly therefore it concerns men infinitely, not to entertain an error about the greatest of God’s favours, and the very masterpiece of his goodness, the sending of his Son into the world. The meaning of which providence should we misconstrue, we should frustrate our grand and last remedy, and perish, not for want, but for misapplication of the means of life. Wherefore this divine apostle, who had been honoured with so near an admittance into his master’s mind, and lain so familiarly in the bosom of truth, endeavours to give the world a right information about this so great and concerning affair in this chapter, and particularly in these words; in which we have these two parts.
I. An account of Christ’s coming into the world,
II. The end and design of his coming; which was, to destroy the works of the Devil.
I. As for the first of these, the manifestation of the Son of God, though it principally relates to the actual coming of Christ into the world, according to my application of it to the present purpose, yet it is a term of a larger comprehension; and so ought to carry our notice both to passages before and after his nativity. For as in the coming of a prince, or great person, to any place, the pomp of harbingers and messengers is as it were some appearance of him before he is seen; so Christ declared himself at vast distances of time, by many semblances and intimations, enough to raise, though not to satisfy the world’s expectation.
We shall find him first exhibited in promises, and those as early
as the first need of a Saviour, even immediately after the fall; by such an hasty
provision of mercy, that there might be no dark interval between man’s misery and
his hope of recovery;
He that at first was known only as the seed of the woman, was
in process of time known to be the seed of Abraham,
But when at length prophecy ripened into event, and shadows gave
way upon the actual appearance of the substance, in the birth of Christ, yet then,
though the Son of God could be but once born, he ceased not to be frequently manifested:
there was a choir of angels to proclaim his nativity, and a new star to be his herald;
the wise men of the east came to worship a new sun, where they saw and acknowledged
the first miracle of his birth, a star appearing when the sun was up. When he disputed
with the doctors, every argument was a demonstration of his deity; and during the
whole course of his ministry, all the mighty works he did were further manifestations
of a divine nature wrapped up in the flesh: even his death proved, that there was
something in him that could not die; and the very
Now upon the strength of this consideration it is, that we pronounce
the Jews inexcusable for persisting in their unbelief. Concerning which as we are
to observe, that in order to the convincing of men’s belief, it is not only required
that the proposition, proposed to be believed, be in itself true, but that it also
appear such; so Christ, to comply with the strictest methods of human reason, asserted
his being the Son of God with such invincible arguments, that he was manifested
to be so: yea, and to that degree, that the Jews’ rejection of him is not stated
upon ignorance, or the cause of it want of evidence in the thing that they were
to know; but upon the malice and depravation of their wills acting counter to their
knowledge, in
For so was Christ, he was the light of the world; and nothing is more manifest or visible than that which manifests both itself and all things else; and needs no invitation to the eye, but will certainly enter, unless it be forcibly kept out.
But they were purposed not to believe their eyes; to question whether it was day when the sun shined; to doubt whether he that did the works of God was sent by God; whether miracles could prove any thing, or signs could signify; and lastly, whether he that fulfilled all prophecies was intended by them. It is clear therefore, that the Jews rejected the Son of God, not because he was not manifested, but because they delighted to be ignorant, and to be sceptics and unbelievers even in spite of evidence.
And thus much for the first thing, the manifestation of the Son of God: pass we now to the next, which is, the end of his manifestation, that he might destroy the works of the Devil.
In the prosecution of which I shall first shew, 1. What were those works of the Devil that the Son of God destroyed: 2. And secondly, the means and ways by which he destroyed them.
1st. For the first of these. I reduce the works of the Devil, destroyed by the manifestation of the Son of God, to these three: 1. Delusion: 2. Sin: 3. Death.
There is a natural coherence and concatenation between these:
for sin being a voluntary action, and so the issue of the will, presupposes a default
in the understanding, which was to conduct the will in its choices: and then when
the delusion and inadvertency of the understanding has betrayed the will to sin,
the consequent and effect of sin is death.
1. And first for delusion. The Devil, as his masterpiece and first art of ruining mankind, was busy to sow the seeds of error and fallacy in the guide of action, their understanding. And surely he has not gained higher trophies over any faculty of man’s nature than this. For where, upon a survey of the world lying under gentilism, can we find truth even in principles of speculation, but much less in those of practice?
As for the first fundamental thing, the original of nature and the beginning of the world; what dissonant and various opinions may we find, and consonant in nothing but their absurdity! Some will not allow it to have had any beginning; others refer it to accident. And those who acknowledge it to have been efficiently framed and produced by an infinite eternal mind, yet assert the matter and rude chaos, out of which he framed it, to have been as old, or rather as eternal as the artificer. Thus ridiculously making two eternals, and one of them infinitely imperfect; whereas the very notion of eternity and self-existence, pursued into its due consequences, must of necessity infer an infinite perfection in all other respects whatsoever. For all imperfection and finiteness proceeds from the restraint of a superior cause: and what cause could limit that which had no cause; and keep that which had its being from itself, from having all the perfections of being?
And for the principles of practice, they were equally ridiculous and uncertain. Some fixed the chief good of man in pleasure, some in contemplation, and some thrust the means into the place of the end, and made the chief good of man to act virtuously; whereas indeed the chief good was to enjoy God, and the way to attain it was to act virtuously. And then if you would know what they understood by acting virtuously, you would find them stating the rates of virtue so, that many actions were taken into that number, which we account vicious and unwarrantable. Ambition was an excellent thing amongst them, and an insatiable desire of honour a current virtue. Lust, if it did not proceed to adultery, that is, to a downright act of injustice, was accounted a very innocent and allowable recreation. In a word, they were at an infinite loss where to state the ground and reason of men’s actions; and all their practical maxims were deficient at least, if not unjust.
And for those that acknowledged God for the end of all that they
were to do, yet did they pursue the enjoyment of that end by means any ways suitable
or proportionable to it? Did they worship him as God? No, we know, that they
waxed vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened: they
changed the glory of the eternal, all-wise, incorruptible God, into the images of
silly, sinful, mortal men; nay, and what is yet more incredible and intolerable,
into the similitude of beasts, and fowls, and creeping things. All this time worshipping
the works of their own hands, or at least using them as instruments of worship and
proper conveyances of divine adoration to God himself, held
Now all this was done by the wisest of the heathens, by the philosophers, the sages, the governors and teachers of the rest of the world; and if these could so degenerate and ride down their reason to such a strange weakness and deception, what can we think of the rout and the vulgar, who could not salve their idolatry with art and distinction? They certainly were in outer darkness, in such thick darkness as might be felt. Their priests’ images were their realities; and what they saw with their eyes they worshipped with their heart, thinking of no other deity but what shined upon them in the golden statue or the curious picture; still raising their devotion as the skill of the graver had advanced the object.
But then, since the exercise of virtue is not to be bound upon
men’s consciences, (at least respecting the generality of men,) but by hopes and
fears grounded upon the proposal of future rewards and punishments; if we look further,
and consider how they acquitted themselves in giving an account of these to the
world, we need require no further account of the error and delusion under which
the Devil had sealed them. All the reward they proposed to virtue, even in its greatest
austerities, self-denials, and forbearances, was to live for ever in the Elysian
fields. A goodly reward indeed; a man
And then the punishments they designed for ill lives were no ways inferior in point of unlikelihood and absurdity: as the filling of tubs full of holes, which let out the water as fast as it was poured in. The rolling of a great stone up a steep mountain, which perpetually returned back upon the person that forced it upwards. The being whipt with snakes by three furies. The being bound hand and foot upon a rock, and having one’s liver gnawed by a vulture; still growing and renewing itself according as it was devoured. These and such like old wives’ or old poets’ fables they amused the world withal; which could keep nobody that was witty from being wicked: all awe and dread vanishing upon the discovery of such ill-contrived cheats, such thin and transparent fallacies.
Yet this was the economy of the religion of the gentiles before
the coming of the Messiah. And for that little handful of men, that God chose from
the rest of the world, to impart his law to them, the church of the Jews; even this,
sometimes before the birth of Christ, was like an enclosed garden overrun with weeds,
the very influences it lived under being noxious and pestilential. Their fountains
were poisoned: their teachers were only so many authentic perverters of the law;
so many doctors of heresy and immorality; abusing the authority of Moses while they
sat in his chair. So that there was a
2. The second great work of the Devil to be destroyed by the manifestation
of the Son of God, was sin. It were a sad story to give a full account of this.
For the truth is, the Devil deceived men only for this cause, to make them sinful.
And such was his cursed success in this attempt, and the vile fertility of this
ill thing brought by him into the world, that it conveyed a general infection into
all the faculties of man: so that at length the thoughts of his heart were evil,
and only evil, and that continually,
It would be a fearful sight to see those sins that have stained
man’s nature ranked into their several kinds and degrees, and displayed in their
filthy colours: to see one nation branded with one vice; another nation notorious
for another; and each in some degree tainted with all. St. John tells us, that
the whole world lies in wickedness,
And to proceed further, their vice did not only reign in their
ordinary converse, but also got into their divine worship: and as before I shew
that they worshipped their gods idolatrously and foolishly; so their histories tell
us that they worshipped them also viciously: revels, drunkenness, and lasciviousness,
were the peculiar homage and religious service that they performed to them. What
were their bacchanalia, but solemn debauches in honour of a drunken deity?
And the rites of their bona dea, in which Publius
Clodius was deprehended under the habit of a woman, were transacted with so much
filth and villainous impurity, that they are scarce to be thought of without a trespass
upon modesty.
We see here to what a maturity sin was grown amongst the heathens:
and amongst the Jews it was not much shortened in its progress. For what are all
the writings of the prophets, but so many loud declarations of the prevailing sway
that sin had amongst them? How does Isaiah complain, that the faithful city was
become an harlot!
And therefore having pitched upon the latter, it was now full
time for him to send his Son, to
Would we know the great purpose that brought Christ out of his Father’s bosom, and clothed him with the infirmities and meannesses of our nature, and made him submit to all the indignities that an obscure birth, an indigent life, and an ignominious death could bring upon him? Why it was not through these miseries to acquire a crown, and to advance his glory; for this he had by an eternal birthright, beyond any increase or addition; and his glorification did not so much invest him with any new honour, as restore to him his old.
But all this long and miraculous scene of transactions was to redeem poor mortal men from the beloved bonds and shackles of their sins, to disenslave them from the tyranny of ruling corruptions; to dispossess the usurper, and to introduce the kingdom of God, by setting it up first in men’s minds; to recover all their faculties to the liberty of innocence and purity; and so, in a word, to restore men both to God and to themselves.
Now if this were the grand design of Christ’s coming into the
world, to conquer and destroy sin; certainly it concerns us not to celebrate the
memory
3. The third and last is death, the inseparable concomitant of
the former. This is the Devil’s triumphing work, by which he vaunts and shews forth
the spoils of our conquered nature, the marks and trophies of his unhappy victory.
For since the first entrance of sin into the world, death has dwelt amongst us,
and continued, and with a perpetual, irresistible success prevailed over us.
But now Christ, intending to be a perfect Saviour, came to destroy
this enemy also; for the apostle tells us, in
2dly. And thus I have shewn what those works of the Devil are, for the destruction of which the Son of God was manifested. I come now to the last thing proposed, which is to shew, what are the ways and means by which he destroys them. Where we must observe, that as those works of the Devil were three, so Christ encounters them by those three distinct offices belonging to him as mediator.
1. As a prophet, he destroys and removes that delusion that had
possessed the world, by those divine and saving discoveries of truth exhibited in
the doctrine
In a word, the doctrine of Christ gives the best account of the
nature of God and of the nature of man; of the first entrance of sin into the world,
and of its cure and remedy: of those terms upon which God will transact with mankind,
and upon which men must approach to God in point of worship, and
But Christ was to be a light to the gentiles; and there is no cozenage in the light, no fallacy in the day: wheresoever he shines, mists presently vanish, and delusions disappear.
2. As for the second work of the Devil, sin, this the Son of God destroyed as a priest, by that satisfaction that he payed down for it; and by that supply of grace that he purchased, for the conquering and rooting it out of the hearts of believers. By the former he destroys the guilt of sin, by the latter the power. Christ when he was in his lowest condition, suffering upon the cross as a malefactor, even then he broke the chief support of the Devil’s kingdom, and triumphed over his strongest principality, in cashiering the guilt and loosing the bands of sin by a full expiation.
Sin, that has so much venom in it as to poison a whole creation, to kindle an eternal fire and an unsupportable wrath, to shut up the bowels of an infinite mercy to poor perishing creatures, and, in a word, to overturn and confound the whole universe; yet being once satisfied for, it is a weak and harmless thing; it is a lion without teeth, or a snake without a sting.
But none could make it so but the Son of God, the eternal high priest of souls, who exhausted the guilt and full measure of its malignity, by a superabundant ransom given for sinners to the offended justice of his Father.
3. As for the third and last work of the Devil, which is death; this Christ, as he is a king, destroys by his power: for it is he that has the keys of life and death,, opening where none shuts, and shutting where none opens: this even amongst men is the peculiar prerogative of princes. At the command of Christ the sea shall give up its dead, the graves shall open, and deliver up their trust; and all the devourers of nature shall make a faithful restitution.
And surely this is that which should comfort every Christian when he is upon his death-bed, and about to lay his head upon a pillow of dust, and to take his long sleep; that he has the greatest ground in the world to expect that he shall rise again, if an omnipotence can awaken him, if the eternal Son of God can snap asunder the bonds of death, and if the word of the King of kings can give him assurance of all this.
Christ has fully finished the work for which he was manifested;
he has vanquished the Devil, beat down all his forts, frustrated his stratagems;
and so having delivered his elect, in spite of delusion, sin, and death, and all
other destructive contrivances for the ruin of souls; as a king and a conqueror
he is set down at the right hand of the Most High, receiving the homage of praises
and hallelujahs from saints and angels, who are continually saying, Blessing,
honour, glory, and power, be unto him that
To whom, with the Father, and the Holy Ghost, do we also render and ascribe, as is most due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, both now and for ever. Amen.
And when Herod the king heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.
THOUGH all the works of God, even the most common, and such as
every day meet our senses in the ordinary course of nature, carry in them a grandeur
and magnificence great enough to entertain the observation of the most curious,
and to raise the admiration of the most knowing; yet it has still been the method
of divine Providence to point out extraordinary events and passages with some peculiar
characters of remark; such as may alarm the minds and engage the eyes of the world,
in a more exact observance of, and attention to, the hand of God, in such great
changes. And very observable it is, that the alteration of states and kingdoms,
the rise and dissolution of governments, the birth and death of persons eminent
in their generations, have for the most part been signalized with some unusual phenomena
in nature; sometimes in the earth, sometimes in the sea, and sometimes in the heavens
themselves: God thereby shewing that the great affairs of the world proceed not
without his own particular notice; and therefore certainly ought much more to challenge
ours. And of this method of Providence, as the reason on God’s part cannot but be
most wise, so on man’s (the more is our just shame)
But of all the strange passages and prodigies by which God introduced great persons into the world, none were so notable as those that ushered in the nativity of this glorious first-born of the creation, our blessed Saviour. And indeed great reason it was, that he that was Lord of heaven should have his descending into the flesh graced and owned with the testimonies of stars and angels, one shining and the other singing at so great a blessing coming upon mankind. Accordingly the evangelist in this chapter makes it his design and business to recount some of those notable circumstances that attended our Saviour’s birth, which we may reduce to these two heads.
I. The solemn address and homage made to him by the wise men of the east.
II. Herod’s behaviour thereupon.
For the first of these, there are in this general passage these particulars considerable.
1. Who and what those wise men were.
2. From whence they came.
3. About what time they came to Jerusalem.
4. What that star was that appeared to them.
5. How they could collect our Saviour’s birth by that star.
Of each of which in their order.
1. And first for the first of these. The persons here rendered wise men (and that certainly with great truth and judgment) are in the Greek termed μάγοι, and in the Latin magi. The origination of which word some take from the Hebrew radix, signifying in the participle benoni in hiphil, one that meditates or mutters. Some from a Syro-Arabic word, signifying explorare or scrutari. Others from a Persian word, but what that word is none pretends to know: though since it is probable that these magi did first exist amongst the Persians, it is also not improbable but that both name and thing might have their original in the same place.
As for the use of the word, it is different. At first it was taken,
doubtless, not only in an honest, but also in an honourable sense; and the
magia of the ancients was nothing else but a profound
insight into all truth, natural, political, and divine. So that Suidas gives this
account of the word, μάγοι παρὰ Πέρσαις οἱ φιλόσοφοι,
they were the Persian philosophers. And that they were divines also is clear; for
Xenophon in his 8th book, περὶ Κύρπου παιδείας,
Now this discourse is only to shew, that the acception of the word amongst the Greeks and Latins, and other modern languages that speak after them, by which magus signifies no better than a wizard or conjurer, is through abuse and degeneration: the ill practices of some who wore this name, having by little and little disgraced the name itself into a bad sense.
As for the acception of it here by our evangelist, I doubt not
but it is in a good sense, and that the persons here spoken of were great scholars,
men well studied in the works of nature, and probably most seen in the mysteries
of astrology, the chief and principal part of the eastern learning, For the proof
of which, this observation is very considerable, that the word
μάγοι applied to the Latins, Greeks, or Egyptians
themselves, is for the most part used in a bad sense; but the same authors applying
it to the Chaldeans and Persians intend it in a good; and that these men mentioned
by the evangelist were
As for the condition and quality of these magi, or wise men, some
contend, though I think more eagerly than conclusively, that they were kings; and
for the proof of it allege several places of scripture; as first, that of
They allege also that place in
To the whole matter therefore I answer, that it is most improbable
that these men were kings; and that the behaviour of Herod and the Jews toward them
seems clearly to evince so much. For there was no mention of any pompous, kingly
reception, but on the contrary, he treats them as imperiously as he would have done
his servants or his footmen, in
It is evident therefore that Herod received them not as kings, no, nor with that respect that is due to the ambassadors of kings; but rather as any of our inferior magistrates would nowadays receive some Polonian or Hungarian, that should come to him about a brief, or for a licence to shew some strange, outlandish feats upon a stage.
But lastly, this is an undeniable argument that they were not kings, that the evangelist is thus silent of it. For since it is manifest that his design was to set forth Christ’s birth, and to render it as notable and conspicuous as he could from those passages that did attend it; it is not imaginable that he would have omitted this, that would have added so much of lustre and credit to it in the eyes of the world. The omission of it is indeed so hugely improbable, that, all things considered, it may almost pass for impossible.
2. The second thing here proposed to our consideration was the place from whence these wise men came. The evangelist describes it only by a general term, ἀπ᾽ ἀνατολῶν, from the east. But the east is of a large compass, and therefore we may well direct our inquiries to something that is more particular.
Some therefore are of opinion, that these wise men came from Arabia,
and that part of it that is called Arabia Felix, which lay eastward to Jerusalem;
especially since their presents consisted of gold, myrrh, and frankincense, the
proper commodities of those places: for Arabia afforded gold, and the adjoining
Others there are that affirm these wise men to have come from Chaldea or Assyria.
I shall not trouble myself to produce or confute the several reasons upon which either of these opinions are built; but briefly give my reasons why neither of them can be admitted.
For the first. They could not come from Arabia, because there never was in Arabia any sort or sect of men known or distinguished by the name of magi; and therefore to bring these men from Arabia were altogether as absurd, as if in story we should bring the Brachmans, or Indian philosophers, from the Orcades, or the Druids from America.
And as for that reason, that the materials of their presents were the native commodities of those regions, it proves nothing; since other countries afforded them besides, and however might have them otherwise by importation. And when men make presents, they do not always pitch upon such things as grow in their own countries, but upon the best and richest that they have in their possession.
In the next place for Assyria or Chaldea: they could not come from thence neither, forasmuch as they lay northwards to Jerusalem: so that frequently in the prophets, when God threatens the Jews with an invasion from the Assyrians, they are still called a nation or army coming from the north. But the evangelist expressly says, that these men came ἀπ᾽ ἀνατολῶν, from the east, to which words this opinion is utterly irreconcileable.
Having thus removed these two opinions, I judge it most probable
that they came from Persia; which
(1.) The first of which shall be taken from this; that this sort of men most flourished in Persia: they were most famous there. And I believe there may be better arguments brought to prove that the magi had their first rise there, than any can be brought to the contrary.
(2.) The second reason shall be taken from the situation of the place, Persia being situate eastward to Judea; so that it exactly answers the words of the evangelist.
(3.) The third and last shall be taken from the manner of their doing homage to Christ, which was that used by the Persians in expressing their homage to kings, namely, by gifts and presents.
These reasons seem probably to evince that these magi, or wise men, came from Persia: and we must know, that in matters of this nature, where demonstrations are not to be had, probable conjectures, burdened with no inconvenient consequences, are the best arguments, and such as any rational mind may well acquiesce in. And thus much for the place from whence these wise men came.
3. The third thing proposed was, the time when they came to Jerusalem;
for some affirm them not to have come to Jerusalem till two years after the birth
of Christ, grounding this their assertion upon what is said in
And now, as we have here removed the opinion of those that state the time of the wise men’s coming to Jerusalem two years after the birth of Christ; so another opinion, that makes the star to have appeared two years before Christ’s birth, is no less to be rejected, since they gave it the appellation of his star upon this account, that it then declared him to have been born. And whereas some, in defence of this opinion, allege the improbability of their coming from Persia in so few days, I answer, that if they be allowed to have come from those parts of it that lay nearest to Jerusalem, (as well they may,) it is not improbable at all; since a very learned commentator upon this place says, that some parts of Persia were not distant from Jerusalem ultra ducentas leucas, which, reckoning five hundred paces to a leuca, as some do, amount to an hundred of our miles. If fifteen hundred, as Ammianus Marcellinus does, then they make three hundred of our miles. The former of which they might go in that time very easily, and the latter with no such extraordinary great difficulty; considering that camels, the beasts of travel in those countries, are said even with great burdens to despatch forty of those leucas, that is, according to the latter and greater computation, threescore of our miles in a day. And thus much for the third thing, viz. the time of these wise men’s coming to Jerusalem.
4. The fourth thing proposed to be considered was, what this star
was. Where though some have affirmed it to have been of the same nature with those
that have their proper place and motion in the celestial orbs, and though that omnipotent
God, that made the sun stand still at one time, and go back at
5. The fifth and last thing proposed to be discussed was, how
these wise men could collect or come to know our Saviour’s birth by their seeing
this star. Evident it is from the words that they had a full and clear knowledge
of it: for they spake of it as of a thing granted; and therefore they ask not whether
or no he was born, but where he was born. And they call it emphatically his star;
We have seen his
To this I answer; that all knowledge must commence upon principles either natural or supernatural.
If they draw it from the former, it must have been either,
1. From the principles of astrology; and here, for the confutation of this, would the time and measure of this exercise permit, the vanity of this science might easily be shewn, from the weakness of its principles; the confessions of such as have been most reputed for their skill in it; and, what is stronger than their confessions, from their frequent mistakes and deceptions in their most confident predictions; which sufficiently prove the greatest pretenders to it to be indeed but mere planetaries; that is, as we may well interpret it from the force of the word, such as use to err and to be deceived, and consequently, that nothing certain can be concluded from their principles.
2. Or secondly, if these men’s knowledge of Christ’s birth by
the star were natural, the former way being removed, it must needs have been from
tradition. And as to this, some affirm that they gathered it from that prophecy
of Balaam continued down to them by report from his time, which prophecy is recorded
in
Others affirm, that this might have been first learned from the Jews, in the time of their dispersion. But especially from some remaining traditions of Daniel. And certainly, when we consider how much this prophet writes of the kingdom and coming of the Messiah, it is no ways improbable but that he might otherwise, both by writing and word of mouth, leave many things behind him concerning the same. All which, through the greatness of the place he held in the Persian court, and the vast repute that he had for his knowledge and learning, might easily find both a general and a lasting reception.
It cannot therefore be rationally denied, but that these wise
men might be much directed by such helps as these. But yet I affirm that these were
not sufficient; so that we must be forced to derive their knowledge of Christ by
this star from a supernatural cause; that is, from the immediate revelation of God:
how, or in what manner, that revelation was effected, it is not necessary for us
to know; but that they were such persons, to whom God upon other occasions did vouchsafe
extraordinary revelations, is clear from the twelfth verse, where it is said, that
they were admonished by God in a dream not to return to Herod. Now it is very probable
that the same God who warned them of their danger, first suggested to them this
great discovery; especially since it was not so difficult to escape the one, as
to find out the other. We must conclude therefore, that it was neither their own
skill, nor yet the light of that star, that taught them the meaning of that star.
But Leo states the matter rightly in his fourth sermon upon the Epiphany:
Praeter illam stellae
And thus much for the first notable circumstance of our Saviour’s nativity, namely, the solemn address of the wise men to him from the east, upon the appearance of a star. I come now to the
Second, which was, Herod’s behaviour thereupon; who being a person so largely spoken of in the Jewish story, so particularly noted by the evangelist, and made yet more notable by having the birth of the great Saviour of the world fall in his reign, he may well deserve our particular consideration: accordingly we will consider him in these three respects.
1. In respect of his condition and temper in reference to his government of Judea.
2. Of his behaviour and deportment upon this particular accident.
3. Of the influence this his behaviour had upon those under his government.
And first for the first of these; we will take an account of his condition and temper in reference to the government held by him, by these three things recorded of him, both in sacred and profane story.
1st, His usurpation: 2dly, His cruelty: and 3dly, His magnificence.
1. And first for his usurpation. When the government of Judea
was took from the Asmoneans, the last of which that reigned was Antigonus, this
Herod, the youngest son of Antipater, an Idumean, (who had grown up under Hyrcanus,
being by
2. The second thing observable of him was his cruelty. We have
already seen him seated in the Jewish throne, though an usurper and an intruder,
and one who had no other title to that sovereignty, but the gift of those who had
no right to give it. However, being thus possessed of it, he must have recourse
to the common method of usurpers, and maintain by blood what he had got by injustice.
3. The third thing observable in the temper of this Herod was
his magnificence. There was none that reigned over the Jews, Solomon only excepted,
that left such glorious monuments of building behind them as did Herod. The temple,
the arx Antonia,
And thus much for the three qualifications observable in Herod’s person.
2. The second thing to be considered of him was, his behaviour upon this particular occasion of the wise men’s coming to Jerusalem from the east, to inquire after him that was born king of the Jews, at the nativity of our blessed Saviour; which behaviour of his shews itself in these two things.
1. In that trouble and anxiety of mind that he conceived upon this news. He was full of suspicious, misgiving, and perplexing thoughts, what the issue of things might be, and how he should be able to maintain himself in the throne, against the claim of the right owner, which he knew he held by no other title but that of injury and usurpation.
2. His behaviour shews itself in that wretched course he took to secure himself against his supposed competitor; which was by slaying all the children born in and near to Bethlehem, from two years old and under; the time within which he had learnt from the wise men that Christ must have been born.
It must be confessed here (which yet certainly is very strange)
that Josephus, who is so particular in recording most things relating to Herod’s
reign, yet speaks not a word either of the birth of Christ, or of the appearance
of the star, or of the wise men’s coming to Herod thereupon; nor, lastly, of the
massacre
However, this ought not to shake our faith of these things at all; since if the evangelists had falsified in these narratives, it is infinitely improbable, that the enemies of the Christian religion, who could so easily have convinced them of such falsification, should not some time or other have objected it against the truth of our religion, which yet they never did; but on the other hand, it is hugely probable, that Josephus, a great zealot in the Jewish religion, and consequently a mortal hater of ours, might, out of his hatred of it, omit the relation of these passages which were likely to give it so much reputation in the world. But as for the passage of his murdering the infants, Ludovicus Capellus is of opinion, that in that place where Josephus says, that Herod, drawing near his death, summoned the noblest of the Jews by a menacing edict from all parts of Judea, and shutting them up, gave order to his sister Salome, and her husband Alexas, to see them all put to the sword after his death; it was Josephus’s intent, by this device, to slubber over the massacre of these innocents; thus not wholly omitting it, and yet by so obscure a narrative not clearly and plainly discovering it. But whether this observation have any weight in it or no, I hope the testimony of those whose writings have been opposed, but never yet confuted, or convinced of falsity, will have more authority and credit with us, than the ambiguity and shuffling of a partial historian.
3. The third thing proposed to be considered by
And thus I have finished what I proposed from the text, namely, the two grand circumstances of our Saviour’s nativity. I shall now close up all with a resolution of this short question, Why that Jesus Christ, being born the right and lawful king of the Jews, yet gave way to this bloody usurper, and did not, either in his or his successor’s time, assume the government himself?
In answer to which, though I think it a solid and satisfactory reason of all God’s actions to state them upon his mere will and pleasure; yet there are not wanting other reasons assignable for this.
I shall pitch upon two.
1. Christ balked the kingly government of the Jews, because his
assuming it would have crossed the very design of that religion that he was then
about to establish; which was, to unite both Jew and Gentile into one church or
body. But this union could not possibly be effected till the politic economy of
that nation, so interwoven with the ceremonial and religious, like the great partition-wall,
was broken down. Upon good reason therefore did Christ refuse to undertake the kingly
government, and therein the support of that nation, the politic constitution of
which, through the special providence of God, in order to the propagation of the
Christian
2. Christ voluntarily waved the Jewish crown, that he might hereby
declare to the world the nature of his proper kingdom; which was to be wholly without
the grandeur of human sovereignty and the splendour of earthly courts. In
This being so, men may save themselves the labour of entering into covenants, raising armies, and cutting of throats, to advance the sceptre and kingdom of Jesus Christ: for Christ has no need of their forces: he came to cast out such legions, and not to employ them. Here in this world he owns no sword but that of his Spirit, no sceptre but his word, no kingdom but the heart. This is his prerogative royal, to govern our wills, to command our inclinations, and to reign and lord it over our most inward affections.
Which kingdom, God of his mercy daily propagate and increase within us.
To which God be rendered and ascribed., as is most due, all praise, might., majesty, and dominion., both now and for ever. Amen.
He that loves father or mother better than me is not worthy of me.
OUR Saviour in these words presents himself and the world together as competitors for our best affections; which because we never fasten upon any thing but for some precedent apprehension of worth in it, he therefore treats with us not upon terms of courtesy but reason, challenging a transcendent affection on our parts, because of a transcendent worthiness on his. He would have it before the world, for this cause only, that he deserves it above the world.
Now because men might be apt to flatter themselves into a false
persuasion of their love to Christ, the heart being no less the seat and shop of
deceit, than it is of love; lest, I say, they might baffle and impose upon themselves,
(as sad experience shews, that most men do in this particular,) our Saviour, with
great art, selects and singles out those enjoyments that are most apt to seize and
engross our affections, and particularly states the sincerity of our love to him,
in the superiority of it over our love to those. An ordinary affection relating
to an extraordinary object is no affection. When Christ is the thing that we are
to love, between the highest degree of love and a total negation of it, there is
no
For the exposition of the words we must here observe, that these
terms father and mother are not to be understood in a literal, restrained
sense, only as they signify such relations; but they are to be taken more largely,
as they comprise whatsoever enjoyments are dear unto us: it being usual in scripture
to express all that is dear to us by some one thing that is most dear. As it is
a frequent synecdoche, to express the whole by some one principal part.
Now the affection we bear to our parents is the greatest that we are to bear to any worldly thing, and that deservedly. For if, under God, they gave us our beings, we may well return them our affections. So that Christ by demanding a love greater than that which upon a natural account is the greatest, and by preferring himself before that enjoyment which is the dearest, he does by consequence prefer himself before all the rest. For he that is above a prince, is consequentially above all his subjects.
As for the next expression, he is not worthy of me; it
may seem from hence to be inferred, that he who should love Christ above father
or mother, or
In answer to this therefore we may observe, that there is a twofold worthiness.
1. A worthiness strictly and properly so called, which is according to the real inherent value of the thing; and so no man by the choicest of his endeavours can be said to be worthy of Christ. He can no more merit grace than he can merit glory, and both are included in Christ. Obtain them indeed we may, but we can never deserve them. Worthiness is a thing that man can never plead before God; but after we have done all, we are still unprofitable, and therefore still unworthy.
2. There is a worthiness according to the gracious acceptance of God, which is a worthiness improperly so called: when a thing is worthy, not for any value in itself, but because God freely accepts it for such. This worth may be rather termed a fitness or a meetness, not consisting in merit, but in due conditional qualifications. And so he that loves father or mother less than Christ is in this sense worthy of him; that is, fitly prepared and qualified to receive him; as having that which God is pleased to make the only condition upon which he bestows Christ.
These things being premised by way of exposition, I shall draw forth and prosecute the sense of the words in these three particulars.
I. I shall shew what is included and comprehended in that love to Christ that is here mentioned in the text.
II. I shall shew what are the reasons and motives that may induce us to it.
III. What are the signs, marks, and characters whereby we may discern it.
I. As for the first of these, what is included in the love here spoken of, I conceive it may include these five things.
1. An esteem and valuation of Christ above all worldly enjoyments whatsoever. The first foundation stone of this love must be laid in admiration, and an high persuasion of that worth that we are to love. We must first believe Christ excellent, before we can account him dear. Those that profess and avow a love to Christ, and yet, by the secret verdict of their worldly minds, place a greater esteem upon a pleasure, upon honour, upon an estate, do indeed speak contradictions, and delude themselves, and may as well believe their life may remain when their soul is departed, as imagine that their love may go one way, and their esteem another. Upon which account it is clear, that Christ must be first raised above the world in our judgments; he must first rule there; he must lord it in our thoughts, and command our apprehensions.
If we trace David through all his Psalms, he is continually breathing
out an ardent love to God; they run all along in a strain of the highest affection.
And this love we shall find to have been founded upon a proportionable esteem of
God, which esteem does eminently appear in several expressions. How often does he
repeat and insist upon this one,
Some are of opinion that the dictates of the understanding have such a determining, controlling influence upon the will and affections, that they cannot but desire whatsoever the understanding shall sufficiently offer and propose to them as desirable. But whether or no the judgment does certainly and infallibly command and draw after it the acts of the will, (which is a controversy too big to be discussed in a sermon,) yet this is certain, that it does of necessity precede them, and no man can fix his love upon any thing, till his judgment reports it to the will as amiable. This must be the only gate and portal through which we must introduce loving thoughts of Christ into the heart; he must be first valued before he can be embraced. For this is undoubtedly certain, that nothing can have a greater share of our affections, than it has of our esteem.
2. This love to Christ implies a choosing him before all other
enjoyments. For a man to pretend affection to Christ, by extolling his person, admiring
what he has done for us, by praising the ways of
By this Moses undeniably proved both the strength and sincerity of his love to God and to the people of God, that he chose rather to suffer afflictions with them, than to enjoy all the pleasures of Pharaoh’s court. For to have solicited their cause with Pharaoh, to have procured them a mitigation of their bondage, to have won them favour and a good opinion from the Egyptians, had indeed been signs and effects of love; but this was love itself. His affection was in his choice; for had he still chose Pharaoh’s court, all other things that he could have done for his brethren had amounted rather to a good wish, than to a true affection.
Thus, on the contrary, wicked men are said to love death:
but can any man make his greatest evil the object of his best desire, which is love?
No, assuredly, while he considers it as such, he cannot; but because it is rational
from men’s choice to infer and argue their love, they may be said therefore truly
and properly to love death, because they choose it. And by the same reason, on the
other side, a believer, though he may be sometimes ensnared in
Thus therefore we see how the spirit and force of our love exerts itself in choice; for the design of love is to appropriate as well as to approximate its object to the soul: and to choose a thing is the first access to a propriety in it. For choice, as I may so say, is possession begun, and possession itself is nothing else but choice perfected. Barely to esteem Christ (if we may suppose a division of those things which indeed are not to be divided) is as much inferior to a choosing him, as a good look is below a good turn.
3. Love to Christ implies service and obedience to him; the same love that when it is between equals is friendship, when it is from an inferior to a superior is obedience. Love, of all the affections, is the most active; hence by those who express the nature of things by hieroglyphics, we have it compared to fire, certainly for nothing more than its activity. The same arms that embrace a friend, will be as ready to act for him. This is the natural progress of true love, from the heart to the hand: where there is an inward spring, there will quickly be an external visible motion.
When we have once placed our affection upon any person, the next
inquiry naturally will be, what shall we do for him? And if this be the property
of love when it lays itself out upon natural objects, we may be sure it will be
heightened when it pitches upon supernatural. It is indeed changed, but withal
Christ has determined the case in short,
Christ all along in scripture proposes himself to us as our Lord
and Master; and a servant’s love to his master is his service. It was the idle servant
that God dealt with as his enemy. How does a wicked man’s love to sin appear, but
by his continual, indefatigable acting and working for it, obeying its commands,
and fulfilling even its vilest lusts and most unreasonable desires! Now Christ requires
that every believer should manifest his love to him in that height and measure,
that a wicked person manifests his love to sin. So that when he required a testimonial
of Peter’s affection, he did not ask him what he thought of him, or what he was
ready to profess concerning him: for we know he thought him to be the Son of God,
It is natural for love, where it is both sincere and predominant, to subdue the party possessed with it to undertake the most servile, laborious, and otherwise uncomfortable offices in the behalf of him whom he loves. If you will admit the paradox, it makes a man do more than he can do. Will is instead of power, and love supplies the room of ability. Had the love of Christ but once thoroughly seated itself in our hearts, we should find that, according to that most expressive phrase of the apostle, it would constrain us. It were but Christ’s saying, Go, and we should go; Do this, and we should do it. We should find a double command, one from Christ and one from our own affection. Love without works is a greater absurdity than faith without works; faith works by love, and love by obedience. Let none therefore ever think to divide himself between God and mammon; to afford his love to Christ, but his service to the world. If a man may honour his parents but not obey them, keep loyalty to his governor but rebel against him, then may also his love stand sincere to Christ while unseconded with obedience.
It is the masterpiece of Satan and our own corruptions, to bring
us under this persuasion, that we may love Christ without serving him: but believe
it, it is a destructive and a damnable delusion; equal
4. Love to Christ implies an acting for him in opposition to all other things; and this is the undeceiving, infallible test of a true affection. We may not only value and commend, but think also that we serve Christ by reason of the undiscernible mixture of his and our interests sometimes wrapt together; so as to be persuaded that we serve and carry on his interest, while indeed we only serve our own in another dress. I believe that Jehu did not only persuade others, but himself also, that he served the cause of God in destroying the posterity of Ahab and the worshippers of Baal; when in truth, God’s honour and his own safety, the interest of religion and of his crown, at that time so particularly met and combined together, that he mistook his own meaning, and thought he was all the time honouring of God, while he was only endeavouring to establish himself, and pursuing the designs of policy under the mask of zeal.
But when two distinct interests are drawn forth in an open, avowed
opposition, and visibly confront one another; when those that embrace one are apparently
discriminated from the other, and none can embrace both, but a man must either testify
a real affection on one side, or an odious indifference and neutrality, then love
will appear to be love; dissimulation will be rendered impossible, and a man will
When Christ and the world, Christ and our honour, Christ and our profit, shall make two opposite parties, then is the time to try our affections. If one servant should follow two several persons, it were hard to discern whose servant he was, while they both walked quietly together; but should they once quarrel and come to strokes, we should quickly see by his assistance where he had engaged his service. The truth is, it is but one and the same league, that is, defensive in respect of our friends, and offensive to their enemies. Neither is there any defending of Christ’s interest, without an active opposing that of Satan and the flesh, when the preservation of one lies in the destruction of the other. If Christ cannot increase, unless John decrease, the Baptist himself must not be spared. Because Peter would shew that he loved Christ above the rest, he drew his sword for him. He that fights for another pawns his life that he loves him: competition is the touchstone of reality.
It is not to make invectives against sin and the courses of the
world, or to speak satires against the Devil, that infallibly concludes us to be
Christ’s disciples. Those may chide very sharply, who are yet hearty and real friends.
But shew me the person who can act with as keen a vigour as he speaks; who can put
his foot upon the neck of his lust; who can be restless and active in circumventing,
undermining, and defeating his corruption; and all this only for its implacable
enmity to Christ; such an one indeed declares to the world by a demonstration
Had king Josiah spoke great and glorious words of his love to God’s church, and of his hatred to idolatry, this indeed might have been a fair commendation of his zeal to the world, which is often deceived, and almost always governed by words: but it could not have at all commended his zeal to God, who weighs all such expressions in the balance of truth and reality, and finds them wanting.
But see how this royal person’s love to God manifested itself: as soon as he succeeded his father, and found the church generally corrupted, and idolatry like an usurper reigning in his kingdom, he presently throws down the altars, breaks the images, dismantles the high places; and all this in opposition to a potent, prevailing interest in his kingdom. A friend at court signified but little, when he was to speak for idolatry, where the king himself looked upon the church as his crown, and the purity of religion as his prerogative. And this was to love God and religion indeed, thus to assert them actively, by engaging against their fiercest opponents, and building up the divine worship upon the ruin of its adversaries. And surely between the most glittering professions, the most enlarged vows, and highest verbal engagements for God, and between this way of taking up and owning his quarrel, there is as much difference, as there is between wearing God’s colours and fighting his battles.
5. To assign the greatest and the sublimest instance in the last
place. Love to Christ imports a full acquiescence in him alone, even in the absence
The Devil granted it to be an easy matter for Job to serve God in the midst of that great affluence, while God set an hedge round about all that he had: but, says he to God, Put forth thine hand, and touch him, strip him of all his greatness, his wealth, and honour, and he will curse thee to thy face; and if Job’s heart had not been made of better metal than the heart of the most specious hypocrite in the world, the Devil had not been at all out in his advice, but would have certainly seen his prediction verified in Job’s behaviour.
Many love Christ as they love their temporal king; while he flourishes, and has the opportunity of obliging his dependents, they will be sure to stick close by his side: but would they follow him into banishment, and pay allegiance to majesty poor, and bare, and forlorn? And if Providence should debase him to so low a pitch, could they honour him in rags, as much as they do in purple? and give him the same homage wandering in the land of strangers, that they shew him riding in the head of his own armies?
No; the case comes to be altered here. When indeed duty and emolument
conspire, one may easily be performed, because in the very same action the other
may be intended: but when they part, and
But this was the great and infallible demonstration, that all the ancient heroes in the faith gave of their love to God, that they took him alone for an inheritance and a patrimony, and embraced religion separate from all temporal accessions, as the utmost limit of their desires, the just measures of their designs, and the sole and ample object of their satisfaction. Abraham left his country, his family, his estate, following God upon his bare word and command. The disciples left all, and followed Christ; the primitive Christians and martyrs relinquished every worldly enjoyment even to life itself, and embarked all their hopes, all their fortunes and felicities, both present and future, in this one bottom, looking for all these, and that which was much better and greater than all, entirely in their religion.
But because human nature has great arguments and reluctancies against such an heroic act of piety, God, that he might cast all our duties within the rules and measures of reason, which is the proper drawing us with the cords of a man, has provided greater arguments to induce us to such an undertaking, than flesh and blood can produce against it.
For when he called Abraham from the very bosom of his friends
and fortunes, he did not divert his will from one desirable object without proposing
to it another: but he both answers his desires and obviates his fears, in that infinitely
full and encouraging promise,
And therefore let men frame to themselves what measures of religion they please, yet if they cannot love and acquiesce in it, when Providence shall leave them nothing in the world else to bestow their love upon, but dispossess them of all the former delights of their eyes and joys of their hearts, (of which we have but too frequent and pregnant examples in many, whose fortunes have been ground to nothing by some sad calamities,) such must assure themselves that all their love to Christ is trifling and superficial, and far from that sincerity that makes it genuine, saving, and victorious over the world.
And God knows how soon he may bring all our pretences to so severe
a trial; and what need the weak heart of man will then have of such a principle
to support it, when it shall find itself beat off from
Where the love of Christ has once possessed itself of the heart,
though a man lives in the world, yet he lives not upon it. And therefore when nothing
is imported from without, he can say to the world as Christ did once to his disciples,
I have meat that ye know not of. A good man, says Solomon, is satisfied from himself;
he carries his store, his plenty, his friends, and his preferments about him. Nothing
could more excellently and divinely express this condition than those words of our
Saviour,
Having thus despatched the first particular, and shewn those five things included in the love to Christ spoken of in the text, I proceed now to the
Second; which is, to shew what are the reasons and motives that may induce us to this love.
And for this I might insist upon that mighty and commanding cause
of love, the amiableness and high perfection of Christ’s person; which contains
in it the very fulness of the Godhead bodily, all the glories of the Deity are wrapt
up and included in it; they reach as wide as infinity, and as far as eternity. His
vast, unlimited knowledge and wisdom, his uncontrollable
Every thing that is but good attracts love, but that which is
excellent commands it; and then how amiable must that nature needs be of which the
sun, the gloriousest creature in the world, is but a glimpse, the light itself a
shadow, and the whole universe, that is, the united glories of heaven and earth,
but a broken copy and an imperfect transcript. Thou art fairer than the children
of men, says the prophet David,
1. That he is best able to reward our love.
2. That he has shewn the greatest love to us.
1. And first for the first of these, that he is best able to reward
our love. I confess, that to love merely for reward, is not so properly to love
as to traffic, and flows not from affection but design. But on the other side, to
love a worthless thing, to embrace
Those that have been the most insatiable lovers of pleasure, profit,
and honour, and such other worldly incentives of love; and have had all their desires
pursued and plied with constant surfeiting fruitions of them; let them at last run
over all with a severe and a reflecting thought, and see whether they have not been
rather wearied than satisfied, their love still determining in loathing, or at least
in indifference. How have they been paid for all their love? Why, some have been
paid with the wages of poverty, some of diseases, some of shame, but all with dissatisfaction.
What fruit have we of those things?
Go over the regions of hell and mansions of the damned, and there
you will see how sin and the world have rewarded men for all the love they have
shewn them. They have made most men miserable, even in this life; but did they ever
make any one happy in the other? in which alone happiness and misery are considerable,
as being there alone unchangeable. Consider a man making his addresses to his beloved
sin, as Samson did to his Delilah; he courts and caresses it, sacrifices his strength
and unbosoms his very soul to it: he breaks through bars, and gates, and walls,
to visit it; is impatient of wanting the delights of its company: and now how is
he recompensed for all these heights of love? Why, he is answered with tricks and
arts, with traps and treacheries; he is dissembled with, and betrayed to his mortal
enemies: those eyes are put out by the person upon whom they doted, and the lap
he slept in delivers him into perpetual imprisonment, misery, and intolerable disgrace.
It is impossible for a man to shew more love than he does to sin, and it is not
possible for his bitterest enemy to pay him with more fatal returns. The truth is,
a man in all his converse with sin courts a serpent,
But because there are other things besides sin that are apt to bid fair for our love, as the possessions and honours of the world, let us see what kind of requital they make for that great love that they find from their most passionate suitors and pursuers. A man perhaps loves riches with that vehemence of desire, that he thinks gold cannot be bought too dear, though the price of it be his natural rest, his health, his reputation, his soul, and every thing. But now after all this, what does he find in it to recompense such an unwearied, unconquerable love? Can it ease his conscience, when the injustice by which he gained it shall torment him? Can it reconcile him to Heaven? or afford him one drop of cold water in hell to cool his tongue when it has brought him thither?
And why then should a man fling away the very spirit and quintessence of his soul, his love, upon such an ungrateful object as can make him no return? Would he bestow half of his watchings, his labours, and painful attendances, in the matters of religion, in stating businesses between God and his soul, he might raise himself such an interest, as should scorn the batteries of fortune, the injuries of time, and the very powers of hell; such an one as should stand victorious and eternal, trample upon the world, conquer death, and even outlive time itself, Let that thing or person therefore have our love that will give most for it: and this shall be the first motive or argument for our placing it upon Christ.
2. The second shall be taken from this consideration,
The united voice of all the world heretofore proclaimed the baseness of ingratitude, and you needed not have amplified upon the topic of several vices, to have represented a man vile; for that charge alone of being ungrateful was a compendious account of all ill qualities, and left a greater brand upon a man, than whole volumes of satires and loud declamations against him.
For the truth is, it is a vice that has in it a peculiar malignity, tending to dissolve and fret asunder the bands of society, and amicable converse between men; forasmuch as society subsists by a mutual intercourse of good offices; and if there were no correspondence and exchange of one friendly action for another, company could not be desirable: and a man might command the same enjoyment in the solitudes of a desert and an howling wilderness, that he could in a populous city, well inhabited, and wisely governed.
Every ungrateful person, that receives much kindness, but repays
none, only acts another kind of robbery, for he really withholds a due, and is indeed
Now Christ has obliged us with two of the highest instances of his love to us imaginable.
1. That he died for us. The love of life is naturally the greatest,
and therefore that love that so far masters this, as to induce a man to lay it down,
must needs be transcendent and supernatural. For life is the first thing that nature
desires, and the last that it is willing to part with. But how poor and low, and
in what a pitiful shallow channel does the love of the world commonly run! Let us
come and desire such an one to speak a favourable word or two for us to a potent
friend, and how much of coyness and excuse and shyness shall we find! the man is
unwilling to spend his breath in speaking, much less in dying for his friend. Come
to another, and ask him upon the stock of a long acquaintance and a professed kindness,
to borrow but a little money of him, and how quickly does he fly to his shifts,
pleading poverty, debts, and great occasions, and any thing, rather than open his
own bowels to refresh those of his poor neighbour! The man will not
But now how incomparably full and strong must the love of Christ needs have been, that could make him sacrifice even life itself for the good of mankind, and not only die, but die with all the heightening circumstances of pain and ignominy; that is, in such a manner, that death was the least part of the suffering! Let us but fix our thoughts upon Christ hanging, bleeding, and at length dying upon the cross, and we shall read his love to man there, in larger and more visible characters than the superscription that the Jews put over his head in so many languages. All which, and many more, were not sufficient to have fully expressed and set forth so incredibly great an affection. Every thorn was a pencil to represent, and every groan a trumpet to proclaim, how great a love he was then shewing to mankind.
And now surely our love must needs be very cold, if all the blood
that ran in our Saviour’s veins cannot warm it; for all that was shed for us, and
shed for that very purpose, that it might prevent the shedding of ours. Our obnoxiousness
to the curse of the law for sin had exposed us to all the extremity of misery, and
made death as due to us, as wages to the workman. And the divine justice (we may
be sure) would never have been behindhand to pay us our due. The dreadful retribution
was certain and unavoidable; and therefore, since Christ could not prevent, he was
pleased at least to divert the blow, and to turn it upon himself; to take the cup
of God’s fury out of our hands, and to
2dly, The other transcendent instance of Christ’s love to mankind was, that he did not only die for us, but that he died for us while we were enemies, and (in the phrase of scripture) enmity itself against him. It is possible indeed that some natures, of a nobler mould and make than the generality of the world, may arise to such an heroic degree of love, as to induce one friend to die for another. For the apostle says, that for a good man one would even dare to die. And we may read in heathen story of the noble contention of two friends, which of them should have the pleasure and honour of dying in the other’s stead, and writing the inward love of his heart in the dearest blood that did enliven it.
Yet still the love of Christ to mankind runs in another and an higher strain: for admit that one man had died for another, yet still it has been for his friend, that is, for something, if not of equal, yet at least of next esteem to life itself, in the common judgment of all. Human love will indeed sometimes act highly and generously, but still it is upon a suitable object, upon something that is amiable; and if there be either no fuel, or that which is unsuitable, the flame will certainly go out.
But the love of Christ does not find, but make us lovely. It
saw
us in our blood, (as the prophet speaks,) wallowing in all the filth and impurities
of
But such an one that both reason and religion cannot but convince us to be the highest and the most unanswerable argument for a surpassing love to Christ on our parts, that (be it spoke with reverence) God himself could afford us. An argument that must render every sin of so black and dismal an hue under the economy of the gospel, that there is no monster comparable to the sinner, to him that can hate after so much love, and by his ingratitude rend open those wounds afresh that were made only to bleed for his offences.
Having thus shewn the reasons and arguments to enforce our love to Christ, I descend now to the
Third and last thing, which is to shew the signs and characters whereby we may discern this love. Love is a thing that is more easily extinguished than concealed. It needs no herald to proclaim it, but wheresoever it is, it will be sure to shew itself. Fire shines as well as burns, and needs nothing but its own light to make it visible and conspicuous.
But yet to make a clearer discovery of the sincerity of our love to Christ, I shall give these three signs of it.
1. A frequent and indeed a continual thinking of him. Where your treasure is, (says our Saviour,) there will your heart be also. That is, whatsoever you love and value, that will be sure to take up your thoughts. Love desires the presence of the object loved, and there is no way to make distant things present but by thought. Thought gives a man the picture of his friend, by continually representing him to his imagination. O how love I thy law! says David; it is my meditation day and night. It kept him waking upon his bed, and was a greater refreshment to him than his natural repose. Let every man reflect upon his own experience, and consult the working of his own breast, and he will find how unable he is to shut the door upon his thoughts, and to keep them from running out after that thing (whatsoever it is) that has seized his affections. Whatsoever work he is about, whatsoever place he is in, still his thoughts are sure to be there.
And can that man then pretend a love to religion, who seldom makes
it the business of his thoughts and meditations? He that thinks of God but now and
then, and by chance, or upon the weekly returns of a sermon, when the preacher interrupts
his other thoughts, shews that God and religion are strangers to his heart and his
most inward affections. David makes this the proper mark and the very characteristic
of a wicked and a profane person, that God is not in all his thoughts: the very
bent and stream of his soul is another way. Love is the bias of the thoughts, and
continually commands and governs the motion of them. And therefore if a man would
have an infallible account of his own
2dly, The second sign of a sincere love to Christ is a willingness
to leave the world, whensoever God shall think fit to send his messenger of death
to summon us to a nearer converse with Christ. I desire to be dissolved, and to
be with Christ, says the blessed apostle. For is it possible for any to love a friend,
and not to desire to be with him? Upon which account I have often marvelled how
some people are able to reconcile the sincerity of their love to Christ, with such
an excessive, immoderate dread of death. For do they fear to be in Abraham’s bosom,
and in the arms of their Saviour? Are they unwilling to be completely happy, to
be saved and
Those who have a spiritual sight of these things, and a rational persuasion of their title to them, surely cannot look upon that, through which they must pass to them, with so much horror and consternation. The first effect that a true and a lively faith has upon the soul is to conquer the fear of death: for if Christ has done any thing for us, he has disarmed that, and took away the grimness, the sting, and terror of that grand adversary.
But some men have so set their heart and soul upon the things of this world, that it is death to them to think of dying: they do not so much depart, as are torn out of the world: and the separation between this and them is harder than that between their soul and their body. How intolerable is it to them, to think of parting with a fair estate, a flourishing family, and great honour! How hardly are they brought to exchange their heaven here below for one above! This is the mind of most men, and it shews itself through all their glorious pretences; but let those who are so minded, whatsoever love they may profess to Christ, rest assured of the truth of this, that they love that most which they are willing to relinquish last.
3dly, A third, and indeed the principal sign of a sincere love
to Christ, is a zeal for his honour, and an impatience to hear or see any indignity
offered him. A person truly pious will mourn for other men’s sins as well as for
his own. Mine eyes run down with tears, says David, because men keep not thy commandments.
He is grieved that God is dishonoured,
Some indeed will not discourse filthily or atheistically themselves, but can quietly and contentedly enough hear others do so: but let such know, that they go sharers in the blasphemy that they do not reprehend; and have as little love to Christ, as that son to his father, who should patiently hear him reviled and traduced in company, and acquit himself upon this account, that he did not revile him himself: or that subject to his prince, who could read a libel of him with pleasure, and make good his loyalty to him upon this ground, that he was not the author of it: though in all base and unworthy actions, the difference between the author and the approver of them, by the judgment of all knowing persons, is not great.
Never did our Saviour himself express so keen and fierce an indignation,
as when he saw men profaning the temple, and turning his Father’s house into a den
of thieves: he then added compulsion to
And thus I have given you some survey of the love that Christ exacts from all those who aspire to the name and privilege of Christians. You have seen the several parts and ingredients of it, the arguments for it, and, lastly, the marks and signs declaring it: which surely will be of some use and moment to every man to conduct him in that grand inquiry about his spiritual state and condition. If the love of Christ is not in him, the merits of Christ’s death belong not to him; but he is a member of Satan, and a vessel of reprobation. Certainly had men a deep and a lively sense of that eternal misery that Christ has declared the portion of those who relate not to him, they would give their eyes no sleep, nor their thoughts any rest, till they had satisfied themselves of that sincerity that alone must stand between them and eternal wrath; and withal entitle them to those numerous and great blessings that lie wrapt up in the womb of that one comprehensive promise, that all things shall work together for the good of those that love God.
To which God be rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, both now and for evermore. Amen.
In whom we have boldness and access with confidence by the faith of him.
THERE is no duty or action of religion, in which it concerns a man to proceed with so much caution and exactness, as in prayer; it being the greatest and most solemn intercourse that earth can have with heaven; the nearest access to him who dwells in that light that is indeed inaccessible: and in a word, the most sovereign and sanctified means to derive blessing, happiness, glory, and all that heaven can give or heart desire, upon the creature.
But since the distance between God and us is so great by nature, and yet greater by sin, it concerns us to see upon what terms of security we make our address to him: for it cannot be safe for a traitor to venture himself as a petitioner into the presence of his prince, whatsoever his wants or necessities may be. And that sin puts us in the very same capacity in reference to God is most sure; so that if there be no accommodation and reconcilement first found out, for any sinner to come to God, is but for him to cast himself into the arms of a consuming fire, to provoke an imminent wrath, to beg a curse, and to solicit his own damnation.
But Christ has smoothed a way for us, and
For the prosecution of the words I shall endeavour the discussion of these four things.
I. That there is a certain boldness and confidence very well consisting with and becoming of our humblest addresses to God.
II. That the foundation of this confidence is laid in the mediation of Jesus Christ.
III. I shall shew the reasons why the mediation of Christ ought to minister such confidence to us in our access to God.
IVthly and lastly, I shall shew whether or no there be any other ground, that may rationally embolden us in these our approaches to him.
I. And first for the first of these, that there is a certain boldness and confidence very well consisting with and becoming of our humblest addresses to God. This is evident; for it is the very language of prayer to treat God with the appellation of father; and surely every son may own a decent confidence before his father, without any intrenchment either upon paternal authority or filial reverence. For when God by the spirit of adoption has put us into the relation of sons, he does not expect from us the behaviour of slaves, and allow of no other expresses of our honour to him but distance and amazement, silence and astonishment. As for the nature of this confidence, it is not so easily set forth by any positive description, as by the opposition that it bears to its extremes; which are of two sorts.
1. In defect. 2. In excess.
And first, for those of the first sort, that consist in defect.
1. This confidence is in the first place opposed to desperation
and horror of conscience. A temper that speaks aloud in those desponding ejaculations
of the Psalmist,
But besides, if despair does sometimes think and reflect upon mercy, yet it expects no share in it; but supposes the bowels shut up, the resentings past, and the day of grace spent and gone. Now so long as it thus misrepresents and libels God to the conscience in all his attributes, how is it possible for a man to have the confidence to pray to him? Despair stupifies and confounds, and stops not only the mouth, but the very breath, and, as it were, keeps and confines a man within himself.
It is natural for every thing to fly from an enemy, and while a man apprehends God to be so, he would if it were possible convey himself out of his very sight. He that presumes to ask a thing of another, is prompted to the doing so, by an opinion of the proneness of such a one to hear and relieve him in all his straits and necessities; but no man puts a petition into the hands of his tormentor, or asks any other favour of his executioner but to despatch him quickly. No man can pray where he cannot hope.
That confidence therefore that must qualify us for and attend us in prayer, is opposed to all kind of desperation, which by making a man account God his enemy, and thereby forbear praying to him, makes him indeed his own.
2. This confidence is opposed also to doubtings and groundless
scrupulosities.
God does not love a misgiving, half-persuaded petitioner, that comes in suspense, and trembling, sometimes hopes, sometimes fluctuates, and, in a word, cannot be so properly said to come as a petitioner, as an adventurer to the throne of mercy. God loves to maintain worthy apprehensions of himself and of all his dealings, in the minds of such as serve him; and it is but reason that those apprehensions should shine forth in the freedom of their deportment, and in their frank reliance upon his readiness to give or do whatsoever shall be fit for them to ask.
But it will perhaps be pleaded in defence and excuse of such doubting,
that it arises not from, any unbecoming thoughts of God, but from the sense of the
unworthiness of him that prays; which makes him question the success of his petition,
notwithstanding
But to this I answer, that by the plea of unworthiness is meant either an unworthiness in point of merit; and so the argument would keep a man from praying for ever, forasmuch as none can ever pretend a claim of merit to the thing he prays for, as shall be more fully observed hereafter.
Or 2dly, it is meant of an unworthiness in point of fitness to receive the thing prayed for; which fitness consists in that evangelical sincerity, that makes a man walk with that uprightness, as not to allow himself in any sin. But for a man to plead himself unworthy upon this account, is to plead himself unfit to pray: for whatsoever makes him fit to pray, makes him fit also to expect the thing asked for in prayer. This therefore concerns not the matter in debate; for the question is, whether he that is duly qualified for such an address to God, can without sin doubt of the issue of that address? Which we deny: otherwise it is most certainly true according to that of Solomon, that the prayer of the wicked is an abomination to God; and that such an one may not only lawfully doubt whether he shall be heard or no, but ought to conclude, that without all doubt he shall not be heard.
But it may be urged further. Does not experience shew, that persons
that are thus qualified in point of sincerity and uprightness before God, do not
always obtain the things they sue for, but are sometimes answered with a repulse?
For did not David earnestly pray for the life of his child, and
To this I answer; that in that respect that a man ought to pray for any thing from God, the prayer of no righteous person was ever denied. For every man is to pray for a thing with submission to the divine will, and so far as God shall think fit to grant it. And in this respect no man is to entertain the least doubt in prayer, but steadfastly to believe that God will vouchsafe him the thing he petitions for, so far as the ends of God’s glory and his own good shall make the granting of that thing necessary. Otherwise for a man to expect absolutely and infallibly the event of whatsoever he prays for, only because he thought fit to pray for it, is a great folly and a bold presumption; it is to determine and give measures to the divine bounty and wisdom; to tell it what it ought to do; to send instructions to heaven, and in a word, it is not so properly to pray as to prescribe to God.
Having thus shewn the two extremes to which the confidence spoken
of in the text is opposed in point of defect, I come now to treat of those to which
it is opposed in point of excess, and to shew, that as it excludes despair and doubting
on the one hand, so it banishes all rashness and irreverence on the other. It is
indeed hard for the weak and unsteady hearts of men to carry themselves in such
an equal poise between both, as not to make the shunning of one inconvenience the
falling into
1. First of all then, confidence in point of excess is opposed to rashness and precipitation. Rashness is properly a man’s sudden undertaking of any action, without a due examination of the grounds or motives that may encourage him to it, and of the reasons that may on the other side dehort and deter him from it: an omission of either of which makes it rash and unreasonable. And prayer surely, of all other duties and actions, ought to be a reasonable service. It calls upon him that undertakes it to consider before he resolves, again and again to consider, into what presence he is going, what the thing is that he is about to do, what preparedness and fitness he finds in himself for it, what the advantages of a right, and what the sad consequences of an undue performance of it are like to be.
I have read that it has been reported of an holy person, that
he used to bestow an whole hour at least in meditation before he kneeled down to
that prayer which perhaps he uttered in three minutes. He that goes about to pray,
must know that he goes about one of the weightiest and the grandest actions of his
whole life. And therefore let him turn his thoughts to all the ingredients and circumstances
relating to it; let him meditate before what a pure and a piercing eye he presents
himself; such an one as shoots into all the corners and recesses of his heart like
a sunbeam, as ransacks all his most concealed thoughts, views all the little indirect
designs, the excursions and wanderings of his spirit, and spies out the first early
buddings and inclinations of
Let him consider, how it were like to fare with him, if this should happen to be his last prayer, and God should stop his breath in the very midst of it, and interrupt him with a summons into another world; whether, in such a case, he should be found in a fit posture to own an appearance at that fearful tribunal, without blushing and confusion of face. No man is fit to pray, that is not fit to die.
Let him consider also, whether there are not the scores of old sins yet uncancelled lying upon his hand. Whether he is not in arrears to God in point of gratitude for past mercies, while he is begging new; and whether he has not abused that bounty that he is now imploring, and made the liberality of heaven the instrument of his vanity and the very proveditor for his lust; even in a literal sense turning the grace of God into wantonness. These things should be recollected and canvassed with a deep, close, and intent reflection, and all reckonings (as much as possible) set even between God and the soul.
David would first wash his hands in innocency, before he would
presume to compass God’s altar,
There is some boldness that is the effect of blindness; and surely it is this, that brings men to so sacred and so concerning an action as prayer is, with such trivial spirits, such rambling unrecollected thoughts, and such offensive profane behaviours. But such persons must know, that this is far from the boldness mentioned in the text: and that though God both allows and enjoins a due confidence “in our accesses to him, yet still they are to remember that confidence does not exclude caution.
2. The confidence spoke of in the text, in point of excess is
opposed to impudence or irreverence; which, the truth is, is but the natural effect
and consequent of the former: for he that considers not the sacredness of a thing
or action, cannot easily pay it that devotion and reverence that the dignity of
it
(1.) The using of saucy, familiar expressions to God. A practice that some heretofore delighted in to that degree of extravagance, that he that should have stood without the church, and not seen what was doing within it, would have verily thought that somebody was talking to his equal and companion. Now the ground of this must needs have been from gross, low, and absurd conceptions of God, and withal very fond and high opinions of themselves, by which they thought themselves such absolute masters of his favour, and bound so close to him by election, that they were to bespeak him at a different rate of fellowship and peremptoriness from all other mortals. And accordingly, they would utter themselves to him as if they were perfectly acquainted with all his counsels, knew his mind, and read over his decrees: and if need were, could advise him in many matters relating to the government of the world.
And therefore their usual dialect was; We know, Lord, that this
and this is thy way of dealing with thy saints; and that thou canst not be angry
with those whose heart is right with thee, though they may sometimes out of infirmity
trip into a perjury, a murder, or an adultery. Nay, and they would tell God to his
face, that he had revealed such a thing to them; when perhaps within two or three
days the event proved clean contrary. When their armies were in the field, they
would usually at home besiege God with such expressions; Lord, if thou shouldest
forsake us, thy peculiar inheritance, who
And the rude familiarity of their expressions was attended with
an equal rudeness of gesture and motion, throwing forth their arms, sweating, and
carrying their whole bodies so, as if their prayer was indeed a wrestling with God,
without a metaphor. But it is strange that any should be able to persuade themselves
that this should be zeal, and the proper fervour of devotion, when common sense
and good manners generally prompt men to a greater wariness and restraint upon themselves
in their appearance before an earthly superior. For no man shakes his prince by
the hand, or accosts him with an hail fellow well met. And if the laws and customs
of nations will by no means endure such boldness to sovereign princes, for fear
of debasing majesty, and so by degrees diminishing the commanding force of government,
surely there ought to be more care used in managing our deportment toward God; since
the impressions we have of things not seen by us are more easily worn off, than
those that are continually renewed upon the mind by a converse with visible objects.
And that which will bring us into a contempt of our earthly prince whom we see,
is much more likely to bring us into a light esteem of our heavenly King whom
(2.) This irreverence in prayer shews itself in a man’s venting his crude, sudden, extemporary conceptions before God. Why God should be pleased with that which intelligent men laugh at, I cannot understand. And there is nothing more loathsome and offensive to discreet ears, than the loose, indigested, incoherent babble of some bold, self-opinioned persons, who in their talk are senseless and endless. Some indeed sanctify their unpremeditated way of speaking to God, by calling it praying by the Spirit; and so entitling the Holy Ghost to all their impertinencies, which is to excuse or defend boldness with blasphemy. But surely folly is no such difficult thing, that any man should need to fetch it from a supernatural cause, and owe his absurdities to immediate inspirations. For if this be to pray by the Spirit, a man needs only to forget himself, to balk the use of his reason, and to let his words fly at random without care or observation, and he shall find very plentiful assistances of this nature.
But to vindicate the Spirit of God from these unworthy imputations,
and withal to dash such impudent pretences, we are to know, that the Spirit measures
out his assistance to men in the use of the means proper for the effecting or accomplishing
of any work; but suspends and denies that assistance, where the use of those means
is neglected; for he cooperates with men according to the established
Were a man to petition his prince, or to plead at the bar for his life, I believe none could persuade him to venture the issue of so great an action upon his extempore gift. But admit that a man be never so well furnished with an ability of speaking suddenly and without premeditation; yet certainly premeditation and care would improve and heighten that ability, and give it a greater force and lustre in all performances. And if so, we are to remember that God calls for our best and our utmost; we are to bring the fairest and the choicest of our flock for an offering, and not to sacrifice a lame, unconcocted, wandering discourse to God, when our time and our parts are able to furnish us with one much more accurate and exact. When a Roman gentleman invited Augustus Caesar to supper, and provided him but a mean entertainment, Caesar very properly took him up with an Unde mihi tecum tanta familiaritas? Friend, pray how come you and I to be so familiar? Great persons think themselves entertained with respect, when they are entertained with splendour; and they think wisely and rightly. In like manner God will reject such sons of presumption and impertinence with disdain; and though they took no time for the making of their prayers, yet he will take time enough before he will grant them.
But besides, to dismiss this supposition, it is indeed scarce
possible, but much speaking without care or study must needs put the speaker upon
unseemly repetitions and tautologies, which Christ most peculiarly cautions his
disciples against as an heathenish thing, in
And thus I have finished the first thing proposed for the handling of the words, which was to shew that there was a certain confidence well becoming our humblest addresses to God, and withal to demonstrate what this confidence was; which I have done, by shewing that it is such an one as stands opposed both to despair and doubting on the one hand, and to rashness and irreverence on the other.
II. I come now to the second particular, which is to shew that
the foundation of this confidence is laid in the mediation of Christ. Where there
is a breach
In whom we have boldness and access with confidence by the faith of him.
THE discussion of these words I shall manage in these two particulars.
I. I shall shew that the confidence becoming a Christian, in his access to God by prayer, is founded upon the mediation of Christ.
II. I shall inquire whether there be any other ground upon which this confidence may rationally found itself.
And first for the first of these, that the confidence becoming a Christian, in his access to God by prayer, is founded upon the mediation of Christ.
But now this dependence of our spiritual affairs upon Christ’s mediation will be yet more evidently set forth in the discussion of the third particular:
III. Which is, to shew the reason why Christ’s mediation ought to minister such confidence to us in our access to God.
He that is confident in any action grounds his confidence upon
the great probability of the happy issue and success of that action, and that probability
of success is grounded upon the fitness of the person intrusted with the management
of it. In one word, therefore, the reason of grounding our confidence upon Christ’s
mediation is the incomparable, singular
1. In respect of God, the person with whom he is to mediate.
2. In respect of men, the persons for whom he mediates.
3. In respect of himself, who discharges this office.
1. And first we will consider him in relation to God, with whom he is to mediate; who also in this business may sustain a double capacity in relation to Christ.
(1.) Of a Father. (2.) Of a Judge.
(1.) And first if we consider him as his Father, there cannot
be a more promising ground of success in all his pleas for us. For who should be
heard and prevail, if not a son pleading before his father? where the very nearness
of the relation is a more commanding rhetoric than words and speeches can bestow
upon a cause. Nature itself takes the cause in hand, and declaims it with more power
and insinuation than the highest and the most persuasive oratory. To have the judge’s
ear is a great matter, but his son has his heart also. To be sure of an audience
is a privilege that every advocate cannot attain to; but he may wait and wait, and
at length go away unheard; and if perhaps he does obtain an hearing, yet he is not
sure to carry it on without rubs and supercilious checks, that shall dishearten
both his client and himself: he brings no advantage to the cause by his own person;
so that if it succeeds, it must be upon the account of an invincible, prevailing
evidence of merit. It must in a manner be its own
But a good cause managed by an acceptable and a favoured person, it is like a sharp weapon wielded by a mighty arm, that enters deeper and further, being drove home by a double cause, its own keenness and the other’s strength. It is impossible indeed for the unchangeable rectitude of the divine nature to warp or deviate in the least manner from truth or justice, out of favour to persons. Yet where favour is consistent with justice, as oftentimes it may undoubtedly be, there the sonship of the advocate must needs facilitate and promote the cause. But however, admitting that favour can have no place in matters of this nature, yet it is a solid argument of comfort and encouragement to sinners, that their cause is in such hands as can reflect no prejudice or disadvantage upon it. Their advocate is not disgusted or obnoxious, and in need to plead for himself, before he can be in a capacity to be heard for his client. It is enough, that if there be any possibility of favour, they are sure of it; that they have an interest on their side, an interest founded upon the nearest and the dearest relation. They speak to a father by the mouth of his son, and, what is more, of his only son; so that they may hope with the highest reason and argument: and, to put an impossible supposition, though their cause should fall, yet their confidence is founded upon a rock.
(2.) We will consider God relating to Christ as a Judge. And here
we will first represent to ourselves all that the office and severity of a judge
can engage him to. We will consider him with all the rigours
1st. Because he appears for us not only as an advocate, but as a surety, paying down to God on our behalf the very utmost that his justice can exact. He suffered, he bled, he died for those for whom he intercedes; so that he brings satisfaction in one hand, while he presents a petition with another. He undertakes and pays the debt, and thereby cancels the bond; so that the law and justice itself have lost their hold of the sinner, and he is become a discharged and a justified person.
And surely such an one may pray with confidence and hope for all the blessings of divine mercy, when his surety has cleared off all scores with his justice. He may take up the apostle’s demand, Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifies; and he may add further, It is Christ that intercedes; Christ, that brings a price for what he asks, that can plead a right, and, if need be, even appeal to God’s justice.
But secondly, we have yet another ground of building our confidence
upon Christ’s mediation with
But now, if God thus constitutes Christ a mediator between himself and sinners, certainly it is an evident demonstration that he will hear and accept him in the management of that very work that he called him to and put him upon. No judge commands an advocate to speak, and when he speaks presently shuts his ears. This would be to contradict himself, and to mock the other; which God’s truth and goodness will not suffer him to do. What Christ does in this matter he does upon the very account of obedience, and has a call and a command to vouch for the success of his appearance, and therefore cannot be rejected or kept off as an intruder. He that bids another ask a thing of him, tells him in effect that he is resolved to grant it. He that invites, promises an admittance.
And thus I have shewn Christ’s fitness for the work of mediation in respect of God, and that, considered either as a Father or as a Judge.
2. In the next place we are to consider his fitness for this work in reference to men, for whom he mediates; which will appear from that fourfold relation that he bears to them.
1. Of a friend. 2. Of a brother. 3. Of a surety. 4. Of a lord and master.
1. And first let us look upon him as a friend; that is, as one that we may trust with our nearest concernments as freely as ourselves. And Christ has solemnly owned this relation to all believers; so that we may with the greatest cheerfulness and assurance commit the presenting of our petitions to him, whose care and solicitousness for the success of them will be the same with ours. Friendship is an active and a venturous thing, and, where it is real, it will make a man bolder and more importunate for his friend than for himself. Now Christ has all the perfections of human friendship without the flaws and weaknesses of it: and surely he will bestow a prayer for those for whom he would spend a life. Though the presence of God is terrible to behold, and his anger much more terrible to feel, yet Christ has declined neither of them, but made his way to the former by a resolute undergoing of the latter.
Many men will indeed profess themselves to be friends, and expect to be accounted so: but if at any time they are desired to speak a good word to a great person in the behalf of one to whom they have made all these professions, they will desire to be excused; they must not spend and lavish away an interest upon other people’s advantages, but reserve it fresh and entire for themselves.
Sad were the condition of sinners, should the friendship of Christ
shew itself at this rate. A friend
2. Let us consider Christ as a brother, and so we have a further
cause to repose a confidence in him, in point of his mediation for us. For although
it does not always fall out that the nearest relations are the best friends, yet
it is a fault that they are not so; and therefore we may be sure that Christ, who
cannot commit a fault, cannot but equal the nearness of the relation he bears to
us with a proportionable measure of affection. He is the Son of God by nature, and
because we cannot be so too, he has made us so by adoption;
Which being so, we may very well own all that confidence of succeeding
through the mediation of Christ, that the fidelity of a friend and the dearness
of a brother may administer to us. For should a brother prevaricate and prove false,
nature itself would seem to fly in his face, and upbraid his unhuman
Brotherhood unites persons by a certain tie that is not only forcible, but sacred; and to violate it by any falseness or treachery of behaviour is to injure not only a man, but even humanity itself. And therefore whatsoever business any one puts into his brother’s hands, he counts as secure as if it were in his own. And we may be sure that Christ will be as much more concerned for our affairs than an earthly brother, as such a brother would be more than an ordinary acquaintance.
3. Let us consider Christ as our surety; and so we shall find the same, if not a greater cause of being confident of him as our mediator. It is not every friend nor every brother that will be a surety, since the love that must raise one to undertake this even amongst men, must be a love greater than he bears to himself: for he that ventures to be a surety for another, ventures an undoing for his sake; and there is not any thing less to be wondered at in common life, than to see such persons undone: so that nothing is more certain in human affairs, than that assertion of Solomon, that he that hateth suretyship is sure.
But the debt that Christ was our surety for, was as much greater
than the greatest that befalls men in worldly matters, as eternity is greater than
time, as heaven is above earth, and the executions of an infinite wrath above the
slight, weak revenges of a mortal power. He bore our iniquities,
And now, after such an experiment of his love to us, can we doubt that he will stick at the lesser and lower instances of kindness? that he will refuse to manage and enforce our petitions at the throne of grace, who did not refuse to make himself an offering to justice? We may rest assured that he will not be wanting to the prosecution of our interest, who, by the very office that he has undertook, has made our interest his own.
4thly and lastly, for the further confirmation of our confidence,
in our addresses to God, we will consider Christ under a very different relation
from all the former, and that is, as he is our lord and master.
Majestas et amor,
sovereignty and love, (as the poet observes,) do but ill cohabit in the same breast;
and the truth is, love prompts to service, and sovereignty imports dominion, and
so proceed in a very contrary strain. Yet Christ has united them both in himself:
for as he is the most absolute of lords, so he is the best and the most faithful
of friends, the kindest brother, and the ablest surety. Nay, and he has founded
our friendship and our subjection to him, things very different, upon the same bottom,
which is, obedience to his laws;
Christ shews sufficiently how far he owns himself concerned for
his servants, where he declares, that he looks upon every courtesy or injury done
to the least of them as done to himself, in
Now, under this relation of lord, I suppose we may consider that also by which Christ owns himself for our head; than which there cannot be one more peculiarly fitted to encourage us in the business of prayer. For when any of the members are aggrieved, or ill at ease, it is the head that must complain and cry out for relief. Nor needs it any intelligence from the afflicted part; but it feels it by a quick sympathy, and utters what it feels by a kind of necessity. And it is as impossible for an arm or a leg to be broke, and the head to be unconcerned, as for any member of the mystical body of Christ to be under a pressing calamity, and for Christ, the head, not to be sensible of that misery, and to vent his sense of it by a vigorous intercession with his Father for its removal.
And thus I have shewn those four relations that Christ bears to
believers; every one of which is a pregnant and a forcible argument for us to depend
3. I come now, in the third and last place, to demonstrate the fitness of Christ to be a mediator for us, by considering him in respect of himself, and those qualifications inherent in him, which so particularly qualify and dispose him for this work: of which I shall mention and insist upon three.
1. That he is perfectly acquainted with all our wants and necessities.
2. That he is heartily sensible of and concerned about them.
3. That he is best able to express and set them forth to the Father.
1. And first for the first of these, his acquaintance with our
condition. We need not spend much time or labour to inform our advocate of our case:
for his omniscience is beforehand with us: he knows all our affairs, and, what is
more, our hearts, better than we ourselves. And it is our happiness that he does
so; for by this means he is able to supply the defects of our prayers, and to beg
those things for us that our ignorance was not aware of. And what is yet a greater
advantage, he is upon this account able also to correct our prayers. For such is
the shortness of our understanding and the weakness of our affections, that we pray
sometimes for those things that would prove our bane and our destruction: we beg
heartily for a mischief, and importune God to be so favourable as to ruin us at
our desire. In which case surely it concerns us to have somebody to counter-petition
us, and to ask a fish while we are
A man perhaps is visited with sickness, and passing his days in pain and languishing, puts up many an hearty prayer to God to restore him to health and ease; but all this time he is ignorant of the end and design of this visitation: for possibly the distemper of his body is every day ministering to the cure of his soul, to the mortification of his pride, his lust, and worldly-mindedness: and perhaps God, who foresees all accidents, and knows upon what little wheels and hinges the events of things move, understands assuredly that his sickness removes him out of harm’s way, and secures him from those peculiar occasions of sin, that, being well and healthful, he would inevitably fall into, and perhaps deplorably fall by. But now Christ has a full comprehension of all these possibilities, and knows what would promote and what would annoy every man in his spiritual estate: he knows when sickness will set a man nearer to heaven than health can do; when poverty, banishment, and affliction, subserve the purposes of grace, and the great interests of eternity, better than all the affluence of fortune, the highest preferments, and the most undisturbed prosperity.
As it is an happiness for some men not to be left to their own
choice, but to resign themselves up to the guidance and disposal of one of greater
experience; so it is the safest course for many not to be permitted to stand or
fall according to their own prayers. For it is not always piety or discretion that
indites them, but an impatience of some present
Such prayers are never seconded or backed by Christ’s intercession, unless for the begging of their pardon, and excusing their folly and their unfitness; and then God may be said most graciously to hear them, when for the mediation of Christ he pardons and denies them: which mediation of his takes its measures of acting, not by our desires, but our wants; of which he is the most competent judge, as being more privy to them than our very consciences; for they may be deceived and deluded, but he cannot. And thus much for the first thing that qualifies Christ to be our mediator, that he knows every thing belonging to our spiritual estate certainly and infallibly.
2. The second is, that he is heartily sensible of, and concerned
about whatsoever concerns us. Without which his knowledge would avail us but little.
For the bare knowing of a thing engages no man to act in it. And therefore Christ
is represented to us as one that is touched with the sense of our infirmities, as
sharing our griefs, and bearing a part in our sorrows; which very thing renders
him a merciful high priest, and ready to intercede for us with the same vehemence
and importunity, that by a personal endurance of those miseries he might be prompted
to for himself. He that would speak earnestly and forcibly of any thing, must work
it into his heart by a lively and a keen sense of it, as
Now it is the heart of Christ that every believer has an interest in: and we know that he carries that in his breast that intercedes for us with him, as well as he with the Father. He does not only hear our sighs, but also feels the cause of them: and if we suffer by the direct impressions of pain, he also suffers by the movings and yearnings of his own compassion: so that in a manner our relief is his own ease; and that deliverance that disburdens our minds, does also by consequence discharge his.
When he was to leave the world, we read how sensible he was of the disconsolate condition of his disciples; and that he promised to send the Spirit to them for no cause more than to be their Comforter; and to allay those sorrows that upon his departure he foresaw would fill their hearts: he seemed actually to feel their grief, while it was yet but future, and to come: that is, before they could have any feeling of it themselves. This concernment therefore of his for us, is another thing that greatly fits him for the office of a mediator.
3. The third and last is, his transcendent and more than human
ability to express and set forth every thing that may be pleaded in our behalf to
the best advantage; which is the peculiar qualification of a good advocate, and
that which makes the two former considerable. For admit that he both knows his client’s
cause, and is heartily and warmly concerned for it, yet if his tongue and his eloquence
But now is there any one that may compare with Christ in respect of this faculty? to whom God has given the tongue of the wise; a tongue speaking with authority, commanding men, and persuading God: nay, and who himself was able to give his disciples such a tongue, as all their adversaries, though never so learned and eloquent, were not able to resist. That prayer that perhaps is by much ado sighed and sobbed out by the penitent, his grief interrupting his words, yet as it arrives to the throne of God from the mouth of our Mediator, it comes with a grace and a force superior to all human rhetoric; it enters the presence and pierces the ears of the Almighty; and, in a word, prevails in that manner, as if it were almighty itself.
And here I cannot but observe, how the qualities of Christ as
our mediator pleading for us do particularly mate and confront those of the Devil
our grand adversary pleading against us. For as Christ is most knowing of our spiritual
estate, and every thing relating to it; so is the Devil most industrious and inquisitive
to give himself an exact information of the same. As Christ is most tenderly concerned
for us, so is the Devil most maliciously and inveterately set against us. And lastly,
as Christ has all the strengths and treasures of elocution to employ in our defence,
so is the Devil restless and artificial in drawing up our charge and accusation
with all the heightening, aggravating language, that a great wit and a redundant
malice can afford. But in all this
And thus I have at length demonstrated the eminent fitness of Christ for the office of mediator, upon a treble account or respect; namely, in respect of God, of us, and of himself: and so have finished the third particular proposed for the handling of the words; which was, to shew the reason why Christ’s mediation ought to minister such confidence to us in our access to God.
In whom we have boldness and access with confidence by the faith of him.
THE prosecution of these words was first cast into the discussion of these four particulars.
I. That there is a certain boldness or confidence very well consisting with and becoming of our humblest addresses to God.
II. That the foundation of this confidence is laid in the mediation of Christ.
III. To shew the reason why the mediation of Christ ought to minister such confidence to us in our access to God.
IVthly and lastly, to shew, whether there were any other ground that might rationally embolden us in these our addresses to him.
Having finished the three first of these, I proceed now to the fourth. What reason we have to raise a confidence about the success of our prayers, upon the mediation of Christ, has been already declared; but since we cannot have too many pillars for so great a superstructure to lean upon, it will not be amiss to see whether there be any other means to give efficacy and success to them.
If there is, it must be either, 1. Something within, or 2dly, Something without us.
As for any thing within us, that may thus prevail
1. Because none can merit of another but by doing something of himself and absolutely by his own power, for the advantage of him from whom he merits, without that person’s help or assistance. But what can any thing that the creature can do advantage God? What can all the men and angels contribute or add to the divine happiness or perfection? And if we should suppose that any action of theirs might, yet it could not be meritorious, forasmuch as they do every thing by a power and an ability conveyed to them by God; so that in their most refined and holiest performances, they offer God but what is his own, the effect and product of his grace working within them, and raising them to do what they do. The talent they trade with was given them, nay, and what is more, the very power of trading with it was given them too: so that both in their being and operations they are another’s, and stand accountable for all to a superior bounty; and restitution surely is not merit.
2dly. To merit is to do something over and above what is due,
no two things in the world being more directly contrary than debt and merit. But
now it
It remains therefore that if there be any other ground of this confidence, it must be something without us. And if so, it must be the help and intercession either, 1. Of angels, or 2. Of the saints.
1. And first for the angels, that they cannot be presumed to mediate for us, and present our prayers before God, I suppose may be made evident by these reasons.
1. Because it is impossible for the angels to know and perfectly
discern the thoughts, that being the incommunicable property of God;
2. The second reason is, that it also exceeds the
But for all this, some concern themselves to hold a contrary opinion about the knowledge of angels, and they pretend to ground it, 1. partly upon scripture; 2. partly upon reason.
And first as to what they produce from scripture, passing by most of their frivolous and impertinent quotations, I shall more especially single out and insist upon two, as being the most likely to speak to their purpose.
1. The first of them is that in
But to this I answer, that repentance is not only immediately
knowable in itself, but also mediately,
But it will be urged, in the second place, that though it follows not from hence that the angels can discern the heart, or the repentance of a sinner as it lies included there, yet by granting that they know and observe the outward effects of repentance, it will follow, that by the same reason they must also know all those prayers that men utter and express outwardly by word of mouth. And therefore that as to these at least we may presume, that they will be our mediators, to present them for us to God.
For reply to this I answer,
1. That it was sufficiently proved by the former argument, that the angelical knowledge cannot at the same time naturally reach itself to all things that actually happen in the world; and that for the reason then given, that an angel, being of a limited nature, cannot be actually present every where. But you will ask then, how come the angels to know the repentance of every converted sinner? Why; it must be supposed that they know it by report of those angels that God has employed as ministering spirits about that repenting person; and consequently it is not necessary that we affirm it to be universally known to all the angels in heaven, but to those only, who by converse with these come to have such a report conveyed to them; for the text speaks only of the angels indefinitely, but not of all universally.
But upon this it may be replied further, that upon the same ground we may infer also, that the angels may know all the prayers orally put up by men throughout the whole world; forasmuch as they may be signified to them, by the like reports from those angels that have the respective care and governance of each person.
To this I answer, that it is indeed possible that they may; but that they also do, we have no ground to conclude. For although God has told us, that so eminent and remarkable a passage as the conversion of a sinner is known to the angels in heaven, whether by particular revelation from himself, or by report from other angels, it matters not; yet that therefore every action done by, or occurrence relating to such an one, must also be reported and made known to the angels too, no reason or argument can demonstrate. And unless we know that these things certainly are so, as well as that possibly they may, they can administer no sure ground to our confidence, as shall be made appear in its due place.
But after all this discourse, what if we should now affirm, that
there is no necessity of our holding, that the angels know the repentance of every
sinner here on earth, either by themselves or by the reports of others. For when
it is said, that there is joy amongst the angels in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, is it said, that this joy happens just about the time of that repentance,
or at any time of the sinner’s abode in this world? No; we find no mention of the
time; and therefore what hinders but that it may be understood of the time when
the penitent enters into heaven: that then there is joy
2. The other is that place in
But to this I answer, that angel is a name not only of nature,
but also of office; and signifies one peculiarly sent and employed by God about
any work: upon which account Christ is several times in scripture called the angel
of the Lord, the angel of the covenant; and simply without any addition the
angel,
as in
And thus having answered what they allege from scripture for the angels’ knowledge of and concernment about men’s particular actions here upon earth, and especially their prayers, I shall now come to examine what they allege for the same from reason.
2. They argue therefore that the angels see and know our prayers, and every thing else belonging to us, because they behold the face of God, the divine essence; which essence containing in itself the exact ideas and representations of all things, by beholding that, they must by consequence behold and view all things else.
This is frequently urged and insisted upon; and yet there cannot
be a more false and absurd reasoning. For if this were true, then it would follow
that whosoever saw God would be also omniscient, and know as much as God himself
knows, since he knows all things by the survey of his own essence. It would follow
also that there could be no possibility of God’s revealing any thing to the angels:
for how can any thing be said to be revealed that was known before? But yet Christ
tells us, that the angels are ignorant of the day of judgment,
But that we may answer and remove the very ground of this reasoning, we are to consider, that the divine essence discovers itself, and what is in it, to those that behold it, not by any natural necessity, as a sensible object lays itself open to the eye, but voluntarily and freely, as the mind of one man discovers itself to another, and as we may presume one angel declares his thoughts to another. Add to this also, that the other supposition of the ideas and images of all things existing in the essence of God, seems but a mere fiction, framed only according to our gross way of apprehending things, and so by no means strictly and literally agreeable to the most spiritual, simple, uncompounded nature of God.
From both which it follows, that that device of
speculum Trinitatis,
the glass of the Trinity, in which they say that saints and angels behold all things,
is a most senseless and ridiculous conceit; and I wonder that any persons of reason
and learning should be ever brought to lay any weight upon it. For if this be a
good argument, that he that sees him who sees all things, must himself also see
all things; then by unavoidable consequence this will be as good, that he that sees
him who sees nothing, must also himself see nothing. And then any angel may be omniscient
and blind in a minute; for let him look upon God who sees all things, and then he
is omniscient, and sees all things himself;
And thus I have shewn, that we have no ground to repose any confidence in the mediation of angels, for the promoting of our petitions before God. I come now to see whether we have any greater ground of confidence from any thing that the saints are like to do for us in this particular.
Concerning which we must observe, that the foregoing arguments brought against the angels interceding for us, by reason of their unacquaintance with our spiritual affairs, proceed much more forcibly against the intercession of the saints, who are of much more limited and restrained faculties than the angels, and know fewer things, and even those that they do know in a much lesser degree of clearness than the angelical knowledge rises to.
But yet for the further proof of the saints’ unacquaintedness with what is done here below, these reasons may be added over and above.
1. As first, it is clear that God sometimes takes his saints out
of the world for this very cause, that they may not see and know what happens in
the world. For so says God to king Josiah,
Some indeed are not ashamed to say, that God reveals the prayers of men here below to the saints above, that they may present those prayers to him; which assertion as it is utterly groundless, so it is also apparently absurd. For to what purpose should God reveal a prayer made to him, to any of the saints, that he might pray it over to him again? Can he make the matter plainer and more evident to God than it was before? Or can he add merit and value to it, when it is impossible for any creature to merit from God? Or lastly, can he prevail with God more than God’s own mercy and Christ’s intercession? Thus when men first take up an opinion, and then afterwards seek for reasons for it, they must be contented with such as the absurdity of it will afford.
2. But 2dly, we have yet further an express declaration of the
saints’ ignorance of the state of things here below in those words in
But notwithstanding these places, the sons of the Romish communion are taught to believe otherwise; and accordingly allege several things, which they are pleased to think, or at least to call arguments to the contrary: the foundation of most of which being overthrown by what has been disputed about the angels, I shall only mention two more, the first from scripture, the second, as they pretend, from reason.
1. As for scripture, they allege,
But to this I answer, 1. That supposing this to be a real history, and literally to be understood, yet this proves no more, than that Abraham might come to know from Lazarus, after his assumption into heaven, what the condition of that rich man was, as also what miseries he himself lay under, during his life: but that is no argument that Abraham knew any thing of this, while Lazarus and the rich man were yet living upon earth. 2. But in the second place we are to know, that this whole relation is but a parable, and so cannot be argumentative for the proof of any thing.
2. Their next argument, which is drawn from reason, proceeds thus.
That if the saints here upon earth pray for one another, then certainly those in
heaven, whose charity is more perfect and consummate, must be thought much more
to pray for those
To this I answer first, that the charity of the saints who live in this world putting them to pray for one another, does not infer, that the saints in heaven (whose charity is greater) must do so too, unless it were proved that the charity of a glorified person must needs have the very same way of acting and exerting itself in heaven, that it had in the same person while he was a member of the church militant here on earth.
2. But in the second place, not to deny wholly that the charity of the blessed souls prompts them to pray for those that live yet in the body, we may distinguish of a twofold intercession of the saints, 1. General, 2. Particular. The general is that by which the saints pray for the good and happiness of the whole body of the church, which they well know upon a general account, during its warfare in this world, to be surrounded with temptations, and so in need of the continual assistance of divine grace; whereupon their charity may well engage them thus to pray for it. But as for any particular intercession, by which any saint intercedes in the behalf of any particular person here below, recommending his personal case to God, this follows not from the former; for it has been proved that they know not these particularities, and if so, though they be in never so high a degree charitable, yet their charity is not to outrun their knowledge.
Now in order to any man’s establishing a rational confidence upon the intercession of the saints for us, these three things are required.
1. That they be able thus to intercede for us.
2. That they accordingly will.
3. And lastly, that a man certainly know so much. A failure in any of which conditions renders all such hope and reliance upon them most absurd and unreasonable. For what foundation of hope can there be, where there is no power to help? And what help can he afford me, who knows not whether I need help or no? But suppose that he does fully know my condition, yet knowledge is not the immediate principle of action, but will; and no man goes about the doing of any thing because he knows it may be done, but because in his mind he has resolved to do it. And then as for the saints’ will to pray for us, since the measure of their will is the will of God calling and commanding them to undertake such or such a work, where there is no such call or command to the thing we are speaking of, we are to presume also, that neither have they any will to it. But lastly, admitting that there is in them really both a knowledge, and an actual will fitting the saints for this office of interceding, yet unless we are sure of it by certain infallible arguments, we cannot build our practice upon it, which is itself to be built upon faith, that is, a firm persuasion of both the reasonableness and the fitness of the thing that we are to do. But now what arguments have we to ascertain us of the saints’ ability and proneness to intercede for us? We have weighed what has been brought from scripture and from reason, and found it wanting; so that we have nothing solid to bottom ourselves upon in this matter. But God requires that our boldness should commence upon knowledge; for he neither approves the sacrifice nor the confidence of fools.
And now in the last place, if we view this doctrine in the consequence of it, we shall find that it speaks aloud against the folly and impiety of a practice so much used by some, namely, the invocation of saints, and praying to the souls of holy men departed this life.
It is possible indeed that men may believe that the saints in heaven particularly intercede for men here below, and yet not hold that they are to be prayed to: but it is certain, that none hold that the saints ought to be prayed to, who deny their particular intercession with God for us. All the arguments therefore that have been hitherto produced for the disproving of this, do by consequence utterly destroy the invocation of the saints.
But before I examine any of their arguments for it, it will not be amiss to consider the original grounds of this practice; of which, I think, I may reckon these three for the principal.
1. The solemn meetings used by the primitive Christians at the places of the saints’ sepulchres, and there celebrating the memory of their martyrdom. In which panegyrical speeches there were used frequent apostrophes and figurative addresses to the souls of the saints, as if they were actually present, and heard what was spoke: and these expressions the vulgar, not being able to distinguish between things spoke figuratively and properly, easily drank in, according to the literal meaning of the words; though indeed they no more proved that the saints heard them, or that those that so spoke thought they did, than those exclamations, Hear, O heaven! and hearken, O earth! prove that the heaven and earth can hear what is thus spoke to them.
2. The second thing that induced this belief were those seeds of the Platonic philosophy, that so much leavened many of the primitive Christians: which philosophy teaches, that the souls of good and virtuous men after the decease of the body are turned into angels or good demons, and fly about the world helping men, and defending them from evils and mishaps: whereupon it was easy with a little change to transfer and apply these things to the souls of the saints.
For the confirmation of which, it is remarkable that Origen, a person excessively addicted to the philosophy of Plato, was the first of the Christians that brought this opinion into the church: though it was long after his time that the invocation of the saints came to be practised; the practice beginning first amongst the Greek Eremites, who transfused it to Nyssen, Basil, and Nazianzen, their great admirers and disciples; who afterwards made a shift to insinuate it into the minds of the credulous vulgar.
3. The third cause of this was the people’s being bred in idolatry: whereupon what worship they gave to devils, and to their heroes before, they very readily applied, upon their conversion to Christianity, to good angels, and to the souls of the martyrs; which also the unwariness and facility of many of their teachers and bishops was willing enough to humour them in, as being desirous upon any terms to gain them from heathenism to the profession of Christian religion; and being also in those times otherwise took up and busied with disputes against such heretics as more directly struck at the foundations of Christianity.
But nothing can be more evident than that the primitive fathers of the church held no such thing as the invocation of the saints, and that from this one consideration, that they still used this as an argument against the Arians for the proof of the deity of Christ, that he was to be invoked and prayed unto. Which worship, might it have been communicated to the saints, or any besides God, had been no proof of the thing for which they brought it at all.
And moreover, the weak grounds that the patrons of this opinion have found for it in scripture, have been the cause, that even those that hold and practise it cannot yet unanimously agree about the terms upon which they are to hold it. For some will have invocation of the saints necessary, some pious and profitable, and others only lawful or allowable. And the council of Trent, that pretended to determine the case, has been so wise as to put the world off with an ambiguity that might indifferently serve the defenders of either opinion, by denouncing an anathema against those qui negant sanctos invocandos esse, who deny that the saints were to be prayed to. Which expression is very ambiguous: for to deny that the saints are to be prayed to, may signify either to deny that it is necessary to pray to them, or that it is lawful to pray to them. But the truth is, it is their best course to state it upon this, that it is useful and profitable. Profitable, I say, not to those that practise, but to those that teach and assert it.
But since the practice has now prevailed amongst those of the Romish communion, let us see what reason they allege for it. Why, they argue,
From the custom used in the courts of princes,
But to this pretence, which, as St. Ambrose affirms in his comment upon the 1st of the Romans, and St. Austin in his 8th book De Civitate Dei, was the very same that the heathens alleged for their worshipping of good demons and their heroes; that is, famous men departed this life, and supposed by them to have attained a state or condition of being and power next to their gods.
To this, I say, this is a full answer; that God is not man, nor are we in all things to argue the manner of our behaviour to God from what we use to men. God will himself determine the way by which he will be worshipped; and, consequently, the only rule of the worship we tender him must be his own prescription and command.
But besides, let the comparison be put equally, and so even upon
these terms their argument will not proceed. For should even an earthly prince constitute
and appoint one certain person to receive all petitions, and bring them to him,
surely it would be an arrogance to presume to petition him by the mediation of any
other. Now God has actually constituted Christ our mediator, and our sole mediator,
which appears from that one text, which the patrons of praying to the saints will
never solidly answer,
If it be here further alleged, that our sins render
To this also I answer; that Christ, who knew better than we ourselves, whether we were fit to come to him or no, has expressly commanded us to come: in which case we are to learn, that the best and most refined humility is obedience: and when Christ commands us to come to him, and with the jealousy almost of a rival forbids us all address to others, if we repair to any but himself, it is the sacrifice of fools, seasoned with ignorance and wilfulness; and not so much a veneration of his majesty, as a despisal of his mercy. For should any noble or great person command me personally to represent my wants immediately to himself, surely it would be but little modesty or civility in me to present my petitions to him by the intercession of his porter.
As for those that judge or practise otherwise, there is this only to be alleged for the reasonableness of what they do; that having so much injured Christ the great mediator, it is not to be wondered, (should we respect their behaviour, and not his mercy,) if they stand in need of a mediator to Christ himself. But as gold upon gold is absurd in heraldry; so I am sure, a mediator to a Mediator is a greater absurdity in Christianity.
I conclude therefore, that Christ is the only person through whose
mediation we may with confidence make our access to God: and that to share this
work of mediation with any, either saints or angels, is an injurious and sacrilegious
encroachment upon that office, that neither admits of equal nor companion.
To whom be rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, both now and for evermore.
And the Lord said, My Spirit shall not always strive with man.
IN this chapter we have God taking a survey of the state of the
sons of men before the flood; and withal we have the judgment or verdict that he
delivers in upon that survey, namely, that they were exceeding wicked; as in
The words will afford several observations; as first, from the method God took in this judgment, first withdrawing his spirit, and then introducing the flood, we may observe,
1. D. That God’s taking away his Spirit from any soul, is the certain forerunner of the ruin and destruction of that soul.
This is clearly evinced from the words; for although the flood
did immediately terminate in the
2. From that expression of the Spirit’s striving with man, which does always imply a resistance from the party with whom we strive, we may observe,
2. D. That there is in the heart of man a natural enmity and opposition
to the motions of God’s holy Spirit: outward contention it is the proper issue and
product of inward hatred; striving in action it is an undoubted sign of enmity in
the heart: The flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh,
3. From the same expression of striving we may observe,
3. D. That the Spirit in its dealings with the heart is very earnest and vehement.
To strive, it imports a vigorous putting forth of the power; it is such a posture as denotes an active desire. There is none that strives with another, but conquest it is the thing both in his desire and in his endeavour.
4. The fourth observation is drawn from the definitive sentence that God here passes, that his Spirit should not always strive with man, and it is this;
4. D. That there is a set and punctual time, after which the convincing operations of God’s Spirit upon the heart of man, in order to his conversion, being resisted, will cease, and for ever leave him.
This seeming to take in the chief, if not the only drift and scope of the Spirit in these words, waving the consideration of the rest, I shall only prosecute this.
In the prosecution of it, I shall do these things.
I. I shall endeavour to prove and demonstrate the truth of this assertion from scripture.
II. I shall shew how many ways the Spirit may be resisted.
III. I shall shew whence and why it is that upon some resistance the Spirit finally withdraws.
IV. Make application.
I. Concerning the first, I shall present you with the proof of this doctrine from several scriptures, that give us pregnant examples, that this is the way of God’s dealings still to withdraw his Spirit after some notorious resistance.
1. The first is that dreadful place in which is set down God’s
dispensation towards the children of Israel, in
1. Their resistance of God’s Spirit, specified in these words; I was grieved with this generation.
2. We have the set and limited time of that resistance; it was forty years.
3. God’s judicial withdrawing his Spirit thereupon, and delivering
them up to a state of everlasting spiritual desertion, held forth in these words;
I sware in my wrath that they should not enter into my rest. From whence we see
that the departure
A second place, that yet further proves that there is such a critical,
fixed time of the Spirit’s working, is in
1. The fixed determination of the time of the Spirit’s speaking to us; To-day. Now as in a day, after such a set hour it is unavoidably and certainly night; so after such a season of the Spirit’s strivings, there inevitably follows a final desertion. While it is day the Spirit works; but this night cometh, and it will not work.
2. This expression shews the shortness of this time. The day of grace, it is but a day. It is the sun of righteousness shining in our faces for some few hours. Which, by the way, speaks severe reproof to the unreasonable delays of some, in their closing and complying with God. The Spirit calls them to-day, and they promise obedience to-morrow. Procrastination in temporals is always dangerous, but in spirituals it is often damnable.
The third place that may be alleged for the proof of this truth
is that,
1. Their enjoyment of a season, in which the Spirit dealt with them concerning the things of their peace; they had their day.
2. Their neglect and misimprovement of that season, implied in Christ’s wish that they had known and improved it.
3. God’s dealing with them upon that misimprovement; the things
of their peace were hid from their eyes. When the day of grace is past, and darkness
upon the soul, no wonder if it is unable to discern the things of its peace. To
these places we may add that in
And thus much for the proof of the point by scriptures, which
leave it undoubted, that the Spirit has its set time of striving with the heart,
after which it will cease. And now I could observe also, by way of allusion and
illustration, how that the creatures also have their set and stinted times allotted
them, beyond which they can do nothing with success. It is notable in the dealings
of men, when they make contracts and bargains, there is some good hour, some advantageous
nick of time, which
But here, before I enter upon the second thing, to prevent misapprehensions, you must here observe, when I say there is a set time of the Spirit’s working, after which it ceases, it is not to be understood of a general set time, which is the same in every man, and beyond which these workings never pass; as for example, because forty years was the set time of the Spirit’s striving with Israel, we are not thence to conclude, that it will continue its workings just so long with all the world besides: but it is to be meant of a set and stinted time in respect of every particular man’s life, in which there is some limited period, wherein the workings of the Spirit will for ever stop. For as it merely depends upon the sovereignty of God’s good pleasure, whether or no there should be any such workings at all; so it is likewise absolutely at his disposal to prolong or shorten their continuance. Only this we may rationally collect; where the means of grace are more plentiful, there the Spirit, upon resistance, sooner departs. Now these being more fully, clearly, and convincingly dealt forth under the dispensations of the gospel, than those of the law, we may conclude this also, that the Spirit in such times is quicker in his despatches, and shorter in his stay. Thus God forbore the fig-tree but three years, and the children of Israel forty. And no wonder; that was in a fruitful soil, these in the wilderness. And God will bear with that unfruitfulness in a wilderness, that he will not in his vineyard.
II. Having thus proved the point by scripture, and withal given
you some caution for the understanding of it; I proceed in the next place to shew,
how the Spirit may be resisted in its workings
Now the Spirit commands and persuades two ways.
1. Externally, by the letter of the word, either written or preached.
2. By its immediate internal workings upon the soul, which I shall reduce to two.
(1.) The illumination of the understanding.
(2.) The conviction of the will.
Now suitable to all these ways of the Spirit’s dealing with us, there are so many different acts of resistance, by which these dealings are opposed.
Of all which in their order.
1. Concerning the resistance of the Spirit in disobeying
It may here be demanded how the Spirit may be resisted speaking in the word.
I answer, two ways.
1. By a negligent hearing and a careless attendance upon it.
2. By acting in a clear and open contrariety to it.
1. Concerning
the first, the resistance of the Spirit speaking in the word by a superficial attendance upon it. As for
those that seldom or never hear it at all; that keep out of the Spirit’s reach;
that are such fools as not only to put the evil day, but also the good day
far from
them; that do not so much resist, as wholly reject the Spirit; their condition,
no doubt, is very sad and desperate. Certainly Sodom and Gomorrah will be able to
commence a plea for themselves at the day of judgment that these cannot: for the
joyful sound never rung in their ears, the gospel was never brought to their doors;
but these have had the means even offered to them, and refused them. But if the
word has been a burden, and sabbaths have been a trouble, what a weight will there
be in damnation! A man shall one day be accountable, not only for the sermons that
he has heard, but for those also that he might have heard. But to pass over those
who scarce merit the name of professors, there is another sort, that indeed hear
the
2. The second way of resisting the Spirit speaking in the word
is by acting contrary to that word. The most considerable thing in man is his actions.
Every action it is defined, fluxus virium agentis; it is the drawing forth the very
spirit and vigour of the agent upon some object: thoughts like shadows in the mind
quickly vanish; words are transient, and pass away; but deeds and actions will abide.
Accordingly God lays all the stress of religion upon these: the law runs thus;
Do
this, and thou shalt live: the gospel says, Not every one that cries Lord, Lord,
but he that does the will of my Father, shall enter into heaven. Both agree in this,
that
1. Because action is the very perfection and consummation of sin. Sin may indeed make a foul progress in our thoughts and desires, and step a little further in our words; but when it comes to be acted, then it attains its full pitch, and becomes perfect.
2. Because sin in the actions argues an overflowing and a redundancy of sin in the heart. A sinful action it is only the boiling over of sin as it lies there: for the heart it is yet in the womb; for as the apostle says, there it is conceived: but in the actual commission of it, it is then brought forth: so that if (according to our Saviour’s word) through the abundance of the heart a man speaks, then certainly from the exceeding superabundance of it does he proceed to action.
Having thus shewn how the Spirit is resisted in its external speaking in the word, I shall next shew how it is resisted in its immediate internal workings upon the soul.
Here we must reflect upon ourselves, and know that, upon the unhappy
fall of man, sin, and the wretched effects of sin, immediately entered upon, and
took full possession of all his faculties: his understanding, that before shined
clear like the lamp of God, was by sin overspread with darkness: his will, that
bore a perfect conformity to the divine will, was rendered totally averse from and
contrary to the things of God. When man was first created, there was such an exact
symmetry and harmony of all the faculties,
1. Concerning our resistance of it in illumination, or its enlightening
work. Where note by way of caution, that by the works of the Spirit I understand
not the extraordinary efficacious works thereof in true conversion; for these are
not resistible, inasmuch as they take away our resistance: they depend not upon
the courtesy of our wills as to their success, but upon the sole power of God forcing
his way through the heart in spite of all opposition.
1. That universal light which we usually term the light of nature,
yet so as it may also be rightly termed the light of the Spirit; but in a different
respect. It is called the light of nature, because of its general inherence in all
men; because it is commensurate and of equal extent with nature, so that wheresoever
the nature of man is to be found, there this light is to be found. It enlightens
every man that comes into the world. But on the other hand, it is called the light
of the Spirit, in respect of the Spirit’s efficiency, in that it is the producing
cause of it, as it is of every good and perfect gift. This light it is the first
breathing of God upon our nature, the very first draught and lineaments of the new
creature; it is, as it were, the first dawning of the Spirit upon the soul, in those
connate principles born with us into the world, and discovering, though very imperfectly,
some general truths; as that there is a God, and that this God is to be worshipped,
and the like. Yet this is but a glimmering, imperfect light, and such an one as
carries with it a greater mixture of darkness; like the break of day, which has
in it more of night, it is but one remove from darkness. The Spirit of God shining
barely in nature, it is like the sun shining through a cloud, but with a faint,
weak brightness, made rather to refresh
2. The second kind of light may be called a notional scripture
light; that is, a bare knowledge of or assent to scripture truths. This light is
begot in the mind of all professors by the mere hearing or reading the word: it
is the bare perception of evangelical truths placed in the intellect, resting in
the brain, treasured up there by a naked apprehension and speculation. So that the
resisting this, being almost the same with our resistance of the Spirit
3. The third kind of light may be called a special convincing
light, which is an higher degree of the enlightening work of the Spirit, and not
common to all professors, yet such a one as may be resisted, yea and totally extinguished.
This is the highest attainment of the soul on this side saving grace; it is like
the clear shining of the moon and stars, which is the greatest light that is consistent
with a state of darkness. Yea it is such a light as does not only make a discovery
of the things of God, but also engenders in the soul a certain relish and taste
of them. It is a light, not only of knowledge, but of joy; and this it was that
enlightened the stony
He that shall hear what report the gospel makes of the nature
of sin, and be so far affected with a lively sense and feeling of it, as to resolve
against it, to hate it, even to a relinquishment of it, and continue for a long
time so to do, yet notwithstanding at length disentangle himself from those thoughts
and apprehensions of sin, so far as to relapse into the fearful commission and love
of it, that man’s case is grievous, and his wound not easily curable. For God intends
these, illuminations as singular special means, both to allure the soul to duty
by the discovery of the love of Christ, and to awe it from sin by the terrors of
hell. Now when a man desires
And thus much concerning the first inward work of the Spirit, to wit, illumination of the understanding; we come now to the second, which is the conviction of the will, which conviction may be described in general,
A work of the Spirit of God upon the will and affections, producing in them some imperfect liking of the ways of God, and dislike to the ways of sin.
There is a clear and open passage between the understanding and the will. Light in the one naturally begets heat in the other, and the conviction of the affections is never greater than the illumination of the judgment. So that when the work of the Spirit miscarries about the understanding, it never throughly succeeds in the will; for it strikes the will and the affections through the understanding; and if it cannot pierce this, it is not to be imagined how the blow can reach the other.
Now the convincing works of the Spirit upon the will may be reduced to these three.
1. A begetting in it some good desires, wishes, and inclinations.
2. An enabling it to perform some imperfect obedience.
3. An enabling it to leave some sins.
In all these works the Spirit may be resisted and opposed.
1. And first, it may be resisted in the good desires and inclinations
that it suggests to the will. That these good desires issue from the Spirit, I suppose
none will deny, who acknowledges that of ourselves we are not so much as able to
think a good thought. He that affirms holy duties may proceed from an unholy, corrupt
heart, may as well expect grapes from thorns, and figs from thistles. As there are
some desires so exceeding black and hellish, that it easily appears they came into
the mind from their father the Devil; so on the contrary there are some so pure
and holy, that they may be quickly discerned to be the offspring of the Spirit,
as bearing his image and likeness. Good inclinations, they are the firstborn of
holiness in the soul, the very first endeavours and throes of the new birth. And
as they are the first, so in reason they may be thought to be most imperfect, and
consequently most easy to be rejected: a good desire stepping forth amongst raging
and unmortified lusts, it is like righteous but weak Lot, endeavouring to appease
the tumult of the Sodomites. O! how easily is it forced to retire! how quickly is
it repulsed! It is like a drop of water falling into a furnace, that presently exhales,
and does not at all allay the fury of its heat. How often has the Spirit whispered
to us, This is the way, walk in it, and our perverse hearts have hurried us another
way! How often has many a soul thoughts of relinquishing its sin, and returning
to God, and
2. The Spirit may be opposed, as it enables the soul to perform
some imperfect obedience to God’s commands. A man, by the convincing energy of the
Spirit in the word, may be led, or rather drawn to many duties. Thus Herod, in
3. The Spirit may be opposed in that convincing work, whereby
it enables the will to forsake some sins. This work bears some affinity with the
former, but it is not altogether the same. I confess, to yield perfect obedience
to all God’s commands does include in it a forsaking of all sin, and is consequentially,
yea and really, the same with it. But imperfectly to execute some good duties, and
imperfectly to leave some sins, which is here intended, are two distinct things.
Now that the Spirit is able to work up a soul even to this also, and that the soul
is likewise able to frustrate this work, these following scriptures will demonstrate.
And thus much concerning the second general head, to shew how many ways the Spirit may be resisted: I proceed to the third, to shew the reasons why upon such resistance the Spirit finally withdraws.
1. The first reason is drawn from God’s decree. This is that which
bounds all things, and fixes the freest operations of second causes: the event of
things in themselves merely contingent, by this degree is stampt certain and infallible.
It turns a casualty into a certainty; a contingency into a necessity. And as the
actions of the creature are limited and determined by this decree, so the most free
actions of God himself come also within the restraining compass of the same. God
purposes before he acts, and his purpose it is the measure of his operations: and
what God wills, he wills immutably. His wisdom and infinite knowledge foresees and
debates all inconveniences antecedently to every act of volition;
Now what terrors should this strike into all resisters of the
Spirit, all prodigals of the means of grace! Whosoever spends upon mercy, spends
upon a set allowance. God has allotted and decreed to every man his portion in the
Spirit’s workings, which, by reason of the enforcing power of that decree, he will
never extend nor contract, diminish nor augment. And since it is not known to us
in what point of our life God has set this fatal bound, as it is a sovereign remedy
to prevent despair, that none might unadvisedly conclude against himself, that he
had finally resisted the Spirit: so on the other hand it ought to be a strong argument
to cut short the outrageous progress of a presuming sinner, since he knows not but
the very next sin he is closing with, may separate between him and the Spirit of
God for ever. For shall God limit the natural days of our life, beyond which we
cannot pass, as it is in
2. The second reason why the Spirit departs upon resistance, is because it is most agreeable to the great intent and design of the gospel. And this is twofold, suitable to which the Spirit does accordingly appropriate a twofold operation.
1. The first great gospel design is the converting and saving
the elect; and this is accomplished by an effectual converting power, which in its
addresses to the soul is invincible. It does not persuade but overpower; and therefore
never fails or miscarries, but effectually converts, sanctifies, and reduces the
soul. The infallible success of the work depends upon the irresistible force of
the agent: by a happy, alluring, yet efficacious violence it draws;
2. The second end and design of the gospel is to render reprobates
inexcusable; and this is no less effectually done by the common enlightening, convincing
works of the Spirit, which are sufficient to take off all pleas, to silence them
in their own defence, and to enhance their guilt beyond excuse. It is confessed,
the converting, renewing work of the Spirit was never vouchsafed to any reprobate;
they were never admitted to share in the children’s bread. Yet God’s denial of recovering
grace cannot warrant them in a state of sin. All indeed through Adam were generally
immersed into an equal plunge of misery, all were forlorn and broke, and as to the
stock of their first righteousness totally bankrupt,
But it may be here replied, What needs any continuance of the Spirit’s workings to render a man inexcusable, since the very strivings of the Spirit in natural conscience is sufficient to effect this?
I answer; that it is most true, that even nature itself is able
to cut off all excuse from the mind of an awakened sinner: as is clear from
And thus we see God’s two great gospel designs; the first of them
to convert the elect, which is effected by the extraordinary power of the Spirit;
the second to bereave the reprobate of excuse, which is accomplished by the ordinary
strivings of it, in those convictions which in their issue prove ineffectual: so
that now the Spirit having finished the end for which those workings were continued,
what in reason can follow, but the end being acquired, those
3. The third ground or reason why God withdraws his Spirit upon our resistance, is because it highly tends to the vindication of his honour.
Now God may vindicate his honour two ways in the Spirit’s departure.
1. As it is a punishment to the sinner, that has dishonoured him.
God’s glory cannot be repaired but by the misery of the party that made a breach
upon it. God cannot be glorious, till the offender is made miserable. Now this is
a punishment exactly correspondent to the sin, that is totally spiritual. For can
there be a greater punishment for a sinner, than to be permitted to take a full
swing in the free satisfaction of his lust? When God bereaves a soul of his Spirit,
there is, as I may say, a decree passed in the court of heaven, in respect of that
soul, for liberty and toleration in sin. In
2. God may vindicate his honour by clearing his injured attributes from those aspersions that human mistakes might charge upon them: for upon God’s merciful, patient continuance of his Spirit, after long opposition made against it, from the facility of God’s forbearance, men are prone to conceive otherwise of God, than is either consistent with their duty or his honour. But now, by thus withdrawing of his Spirit, he does eminently vindicate and recover the repute of his injured attributes, and of these two especially.
1. Of his wisdom. 2. Of his mercy.
1. He vindicates and asserts the honour of his wisdom. I confess
it is downright atheism to deny God’s wisdom in words, and few will do it. But corruption
is apt to think what atheism only will avouch. And there is a language of the heart
which speaks clear enough to God’s dishonour, though not to our hearing. The voice
of it in such a case is, How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the most high?
2. He vindicates the honour of his mercy. Such is the vileness of men, that even from mercy itself they take occasion to blaspheme mercy. For by thus presuming upon it, they do not so much think or speak, as act their blasphemies against it. He that goes on to sin against mercy, he either thinks that God knows it not, and so cannot punish him; or that he is of so impregnable a clemency that he will not. But as the former of these strikes at God’s omniscience, so the latter at his mercy. For this is not properly mercy, but fondness; that is, an irrational mercy; which we cannot add to God’s nature, but by such additions we should diminish and detract from his perfection.
Now God by the departure of his Spirit vindicates the honour of his mercy in a double respect.
1. By shewing that it is no ways inferior, much less contrary
to his holiness. God’s attributes do not interfere nor clash: the exercise of one
does not justle out the other: they are at perfect agreement: and mercy will not
enlarge itself to such a pitch as holiness will not warrant. God will let the resisters
of his Spirit see, that as he was merciful to endure them so long, so he is too holy to bear with them
any longer. For during the time of his forbearance, the repute of his holiness lies
at stake. What glory did God gain to his mercy, as it is in
2. God in this vindicates the honour of his mercy, by making it
clear that it is not repugnant to his justice: nay, that it is not only not repugnant
to it, but also makes way for a severer execution of it: and from hence God may
be said not only to be merciful because he will be merciful, but because he will
be just. Mercy neither can nor will rescue an impenitent sinner from the hand of
justice. All the time that the infinite mercy of God is striving and dealing with
the heart of an obstinate sinner, his justice is like a sleeping lion, ready to
tear him in pieces whensoever God shall awaken it. It is reported of Dionysius,
that setting to sea after he had pillaged a temple, and having a very prosperous
voyage, he cried out, O quam diis placet sacrilegium! How are the gods pleased with
sacrilege! The case of the obstinate sinner is not much unlike: when men in the
full pursuit of their sins find themselves yet followed by the fresh gales of the
Spirit blowing upon their hearts, they are apt to conclude, that God will still
wait
4. God withdraws his Spirit upon resistance, because this naturally raises in the hearts of men an esteem and valuation of the Spirit’s workings: and the reason of this is, because in so doing, men apparently see that God himself puts an esteem and value upon them, otherwise why should he so severely bereave men of them upon their abuse? Were it not a treasure, God would not be so choice of it. God shewed what a value he put upon his vineyard, by taking it from those husbandmen who had misemployed it.
The great God is not jealous for a trifle. God can
Now the esteem that the departure of the Spirit begets upon their minds is twofold.
1. An esteem of fear. For this, like the rest of God’s judgments, is poena ad unum, terror ad omnes; a punishment indeed to one, but a terror to all. God in every punishment does not intend revenge so much as example. We read how the Spirit departed from Saul: and certainly God designed it not only for a judgment upon him, but also for a document of fear to others; otherwise, why do these things stand upon eternal record in scripture? Questionless the thought of this would put a stop to any sober sinner; it would give a restriction to his appetite: and if there be any thing that keeps the sinner from causing the Spirit to depart, it is the fear of his departure. Men are usually ruled and instructed by their fears. It is the height of spiritual prudence to draw caution from danger, to distil instruction from punishments. And from a serious consideration of the Spirit’s final departure from others, to secure it in its abode with ourselves.
2. The thought of this begets in the minds of the godly an esteem
of love. When they shall know that God withdraws his Spirit from the unworthy abusers
of it, and yet continues it to themselves notwithstanding all their unworthiness,
if there be any but the least grain of pious ingenuity in them, they cannot but
reflect upon this distinguishing love of God with melting returns of love and affection.
For who is
Application. You have heard that there is a set time, after which
the Spirit, being resisted, will cease to strive, and depart: you have also heard
how many ways it may be resisted; and withal, the several grounds and reasons why
it will withdraw upon such resistance. And now, what can be more seasonable than
to wrap up all in the apostle’s own exhortation,
1st, Our resisting of the Spirit in his precepts and instructions
will certainly bereave us of his comforts. Now the office of the Spirit consists
in these two great works, to instruct and to comfort. The same Spirit that in
Now the reason that such as resist the Spirit cannot enjoy his comforts is, because this resistance is inconsistent with those ways by which the Spirit speaks comfort; and these are two.
1. The Spirit speaks comfortably, by giving a man to understand
his interest in Christ, and consequently in the love of God. But it is impossible
for him that resists the Spirit to be sure of any of these, inasmuch as he falls
under those qualifications that render a man the proper object of God’s hatred,
and totally estranged from Christ;
2. The second way by which the Spirit comforts a man, is by discovering
to him that grace that is within him; that is, not only by clearing up God’s love
to him, but also by making him see his love to God. The strength of this, as it
is an argument of comfort, lies here. Because our love to God it is the proper effect,
and therefore the infallible sign of God’s love to us, which is the great basis
and foundation of all comfort. We therefore love because we were first beloved.
But can the love of God abide in him who resists and does despite to his Spirit?
Can any one at the same time fight like an enemy and love like a friend? The sinner
cannot give any true evidence of his love to God, inasmuch as a continual,
And thus it is clear, that such as resist the Spirit’s strivings cannot share in his comforts. And how unconceivably sad and miserable it is to want them, none knows so much as those that have wanted them. If God should let loose all the sorest afflictions of this life upon you, and should awaken your consciences to accuse you, and withal possess your guilty, despairing souls with a lively sense of his wrath for sin, and fill you with the terrors of hell, so that you should even roar by reason of the disquietness of your hearts, as he had done to some, and particularly to David, you would then know what it is to have the Spirit as a comforter. However, when you come to look death in the face, and are upon your passage into eternity, and presently to appear before God in judgment, then you will prize the comforts of the Spirit. And if you ever hope to enjoy them at that disconsolate hour, beware how you resist his strivings now.
The second motive why we should comply with the Spirit is, because the resisting of it brings a man under hardness of heart and a reprobate sense. Now a man is then said to be under a reprobate sense, when he has lost all spiritual feeling; so that when heaven and the joys thereof are displayed before him, he is not at all affected with desire; when hell and wrath and eternal misery are held forth to him, he is not moved with terror.
Now resisting of the Spirit brings this hardness upon the heart two ways.
1. By way of natural causation. Hardness of heart is the proper issue and effect of this resistance. Every act of opposition to the Spirit disposes the soul to resist it further; as the reception of one degree of heat disposes the subject to receive the second, and the second the third, till it arrives to the highest. And the more frequent the Spirit’s workings have been, the heart grows more insensible and hard; as a path, by often being trod, is daily more and more hardened. Custom in sin produces boldness in sin; and we know boldness is for the most part grounded upon the insensibility of danger.
2. This resistance brings hardness of heart, by way of a judicial curse from God. It causes God to suspend his convincing and converting grace; whereupon the sinner is more and more established and confirmed in his sin. It is not to be questioned but the hardness of Pharaoh’s heart at the time of his destruction had in it something of punishment as well as sin; and was penally inflicted upon him as a judgment for his irrational hardness under God’s former judgments. I shall allege no more examples; this is sufficient to demonstrate how dreadful a thing it is to be punished with an hard heart. It is this alone, to say no more of it, that renders all the means of a man’s salvation utterly ineffectual.
The third motive is, because resisting of the Spirit puts a man
in the very next disposition to the great and unpardonable sin against the Holy
Ghost. For this dreadful sin is only a greater kind of resistance of the Spirit.
And all the foregoing acts of resistance are like so many degrees and steps leading
to this. For since a man cannot presently and on the sudden arrive to the highest
pitch of sin, there are
And thus you have seen that way marked out before you that leads
to the sin against the Holy Ghost. Therefore it nearly concerns all resisters of
the Spirit to bethink themselves whither they are going, and to beware that they
do not slide into that that is unpardonable. It is wisdom timely to depart from
your sins, before the Spirit finally departs from you. I hope there is none here
that either has or ever shall commit this great sin; yet consider, which certainly
is terror enough to a considering mind, that if you go on, and still proceed to
resist the Spirit, it is possible that you may. And in things that concern the everlasting
ruin of an immortal soul, miserum est
For I say unto you, That unless your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the scribes and pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven.
WE have here the great doctor of souls in his sermon upon the mount applying himself to the great business of souls, their eternal happiness and salvation; a thing aimed at by all, but attained by few. And since there can be no rational direction to the end, but what is laid in the prescription of the means, he shews them the most effectual course of arriving to this happiness that is imaginable; and that is, partly by discovering those ways and means by which men come to miss of salvation; and partly by declaring those other ways by which alone it is to be attained: first he shews them how it cannot be acquired; and secondly how it may. It cannot be attained by the righteousness of the scribes and pharisees; it may be attained by such an one as does exceed it.
In order to the understanding of the words, I must premise some short explication of these three things.
I. Who and what these scribes and pharisees were.
II. What is here meant by righteousness.
III. And lastly, what by the kingdom of heaven.
I. And first for the first, who these scribes and pharisees were. It would be both tedious, and, as to our present business, superfluous, to discourse exactly of the original and ways of the several sects that about the time of our Saviour infested the Jewish church; such as were the Sadducees, Pharisees, Essenes, and Herodians. Let it suffice us therefore to consider so much of them as may contribute to the clearing of the text; which is, that these pharisees were a powerful ruling sect amongst the Jews, professing and pretending to a greater sanctity of life and purity of doctrine than any others. Upon which account they gave denomination to their sect from pharash, a word importing separation; as that they were men who had sequestered and set apart themselves to the study and pursuit of a more sublime piety and strictness of life than the rest of mankind; as also such as gave the best interpretations of the Mosaic law, not only expounding, but also correcting and perfecting it where it was defective.
In which respect they struck in with the scribes. For pharisee is the name of a sect, scribe of an office; and signifies as much as a doctor, one whose employment it was to interpret and expound the law to the people in their synagogues. So that in short the scribes and pharisees amongst the Jews were such as owned themselves for the strictest livers and the best teachers in the world.
II. The second thing to be explained is, what our Saviour here means by righteousness. The word may have a twofold acception.
1. It may import a righteousness of doctrine; such an one as is to be the rule and measure of the righteousness of our actions.
2. It may import a righteousness in point of practice; that is, such an one as denominates a man just or righteous; as the former properly denominates a man only sound or orthodox.
And now, according to these two senses, as righteousness is twice mentioned in the text; so it is first mentioned in one sense, and then in the other.
The righteousness called by our Saviour the righteousness of the pharisees signifies the righteousness taught by the pharisees, which is manifest from the whole drift of the chapter. In all which throughout, it is evidently Christ’s design to oppose the purity of his doctrine in the clear exposition of the law, to the corrupt and pernicious expositions that the pharisees gave of the same.
But then the other righteousness, called by our Saviour your righteousness, imports a righteousness of practice, a pious life, or a course of evangelical obedience. So that the sense of our Saviour’s words taken more at large runs thus: Unless you pursue and live up to a greater measure of piety than what the scribes and pharisees teach and prescribe you in their perverse and superficial glosses upon the law of Moses, you will find it infinitely short and insufficient to bring you to heaven. Your lives must outdo your lessons. You must step further, and bid higher, or you will never reach the price and purchase of a glorious immortality.
III. The third and last thing to be explained is, what our Saviour here means by the kingdom of heaven: for there are three several significations of it in scripture.
1. It is taken for the state and economy of the church under Christianity,
opposed to the Jewish
2. It is sometimes taken for the kingdom of grace, by which Christ
rules in the hearts of men. In which sense those words of his to the young man are
to be understood in
3. And lastly, it is taken for the kingdom of glory, which is the prime and most eminent acception of it; and which I conceive is intended here; though I deny not but some would have it expounded in the first of these three senses.
But besides that the natural aspect of the phrase seems to favour this interpretation, the word entering into much more easily denoting a passage into another place, than merely into another state or condition; the same is yet further evident from hence, that an entrance into the kingdom of heaven is here exhibited as the end and reward that men propose to themselves as attainable by the righteousness of their lives, and consequently to commence upon the expiration of them; which therefore can be nothing else but a state of blessedness in another world.
These things premised by way of explication, we may take the entire sense of the words in these three propositions.
1. That a righteousness is absolutely necessary to the attainment of salvation. Which is an assertion of such self-evidence, and so universally granted by all, in appearance at least, that to cast any remark upon it might at most seem ridiculous, did not so many in the world contradict their profession by their practice; and while they own designs for heaven, yet indeed live and act as if they were candidates of hell and probationers for damnation.
2. As a righteousness is necessary, so every degree of righteousness is not sufficient to entitle the soul to eternal happiness. It must be such an one as exceeds, such an one as stands upon higher ground than that which usually shews itself in the lives and conversation of the generality of mankind.
3dly, and more particularly, that righteousness that saves and lets a man into the kingdom of heaven, must far surpass the best and the greatest righteousness of the most refined and glistering hypocrite in the world.
Which proposition, as virtually containing in it both the former, shall be the subject of the following discourse. And the prosecution of it shall lie in these three things.
I. To shew the defects of the hypocrite’s righteousness, here expressed by the righteousness of the scribes and pharisees, and declared for such an one as cannot save.
II. To shew those perfections and conditions by which the righteousness that saves and brings to heaven does transcend and surpass this.
III. And lastly. To shew the grounds and reason of the necessity of such a righteousness in order to a man’s salvation.
And first, for the defects of the hypocritical, pharisaical righteousness, we may reckon several.
1. As first, that it consisted chiefly in the external actions of duty; never taking care of the inward deportment of the soul, in the regulation of its thoughts, wishes, and affections; in the due composure of which consists the very spirit and vital part of religion. The pharisees taught the Jews, that he who imbrued not his hand in his brother’s blood was no murderer, and that he who defiled not his neighbour’s bed could not be charged with a violation of that command that forbade adultery. So that it seems, according to them, a man might innocently burn with malice and revenge, lustful and impure thoughts, so long as he could keep the furnace stopped, and prevent them from breaking forth and raging in gross outward commissions.
Thus (as our Saviour told them) making clean the outside of the platter, and smoothing the surface of their behaviour, while their inward parts were full of all noisomeness, filth, and abomination. The hypocrite and the pharisee, like some beasts, are only valuable for their skin and their fine colours; so that after all their flourishes of an outward, dissembled piety, all those shows of abstinence and severity, by which they amuse the eyes of the easy, credulous world, we cannot say properly of any one of them, that he is a good man, but only a good sight; and that too, because we cannot see all of him.
Such persons are not the temples or habitations, but the sepulchres
of piety; and we know that when we have seen a sepulchre, we have had the best of
it: for there is none so ill a friend to his
And where these were cherished by the inward affections and approbations
of the heart, demure looks, long prayers, and enlarging of phylacteries, were but
pitiful, thin arts to recommend them to the acceptance of that God, who looks through
appearances, and pierces into the heart, and ransacks the very bowels and entrails
of the soul, rating all our services according to the frame and temper of that.
For being a spirit, he judges like a spirit, and cannot be put off with dress and
dissimulation, paint and varnish; and the fairest outward actions of
2. A second fault and flaw in this righteousness was, that it was partial and imperfect, not extending itself equally to all God’s commands: some of which the pharisees accounted great ones, and accordingly laid some stress upon the observation of them; but some again they accounted but little ones, and so styled them in their common phrase, and shew as little regard to them in their practice.
Which defect, as it was eminent in them, so it is also common
to every hypocrite in the world, who never comes up roundly to the whole compass
of his duty, even then when he makes the most pompous show; but singles out some
certain parts, which perhaps suit best with his occasions, and least thwart his
corruptions, leaving the rest to those who may like them better. As the proud or
unclean person may be liberal and charitable to the poor, frequent in the service
of God, abhor a lie, or a treacherous action, with many other the like duties, that
do not directly grate upon the darling sin that he is tender of: but what says he
all this time to those precepts that charge his pride and his uncleanness? God calls
upon him to be humble as well as charitable, to be pure and chaste, as well as devout;
nor will it suffice him to chop and change one duty for another: he cannot clear
his debts, by paying part of the great sum he owes. The obligation of the law is
universal and uniform, and carries an equal aspect to every instance of religion
lying within the compass of its command. Upon which account it is said,
David knew that there was no building any solid confidence upon
a parcelled, curtailed obedience; and therefore he states his hope upon such an
one as was entire and universal;
God exacts of every soul that looks to enter into the kingdom
of heaven a perfect righteousness; perfect, I say, with a perfection of sincerity,
which is a perfection of parts, though not of degrees: that is, there is no one
grace or virtue but a Christian must have it before he can be saved: though such
is the present state of human infirmity, that he cannot in this life attain to the
highest degree of that virtue. But as an infant is a man, because he has all the
parts of a man, though he has them not in that bulk and strength that those have
who are grown up; so he is righteous and sincere who performs every divine precept,
omitting no one of them, though his performances have not that perfection and exactness
that is to be found in the obedience of a person glorified and made perfect. However,
still we see that universality is required, and an equal compliance with all the
divine precepts. For as it is not an handsome eye, an handsome hand, or an handsome
leg, but an universal symmetry and just proportion of all the members and features
of the body, that makes an handsome man; so neither is it the practice of this or
that virtue, but an entire complexion of all, that must render and denominate a
man righteous in the sight of God. And therefore it was infinite folly in the pharisees
to be exact in other things, even to the tithing of rue and cummin, and in the mean
time to lop off the force and design of a grand precept of the law, by allowing
men in some cases not to pay honour to their parents; as we read in
Men should measure their righteousness by the extent of Christ’s satisfaction for sin, which was far from being partial or imperfect; it grasped and comprehended all the sins that either were or could be committed. And if, in the application of this satisfaction to any soul, Christ should take all the sins of it upon his own score, one only excepted, that one sin would inevitably expose it to the full stroke of God’s vengeance, and sink it for ever into endless perdition.
Let a man therefore shew me any one part of the law, for the transgression
of which Christ did not shed his blood; and for the pardon of which the merits of
that blood must not be imputed to him, if ever it is pardoned; and I will grant,
that in the general rules and obligations of obedience, that part of the law admits
of an exception, and consequently obliges not his practice: but Christ knew full
well how imperfect a Saviour and Redeemer the world would have found him, had he
not paid a price to divine justice for every even the least and most despised deviation
from the law. One peccadillo, as
From all which it appears, that the partial, mangled obedience that the hypocrite or the pharisee pays to the divine precepts, can entitle him to no right of entrance into the kingdom of heaven: there is no coming thither with a piece of a wedding garment, with the ragged robe of an half and a curtailed righteousness: and the righteousness of the most eminent unregenerate professor amounts to no more, who is never so clear and entire in duty, but that he has his reserves, his allowances, and exemptions from some severe, troublesome precept or other, that he is resolved to dispense with himself in the observance of; as never worshipping God but with a proviso, that he may still bow in the house of his beloved Rimmon.
3. The third defect of this pharisaical, unsound righteousness is, that it is legal; that is, such an one as expects to win heaven upon the strength of itself and its own worth. Which opinion alone were enough to embase the very righteousness of angels in the sight of God so far, as to render it not only vain, but odious; and to turn the best of sacrifices into the worst of sins. It is an affront to mercy for any one to pretend merit. It is to pull Christ down from the cross, to degrade him from his mediatorship; and, in a word, to nullify and evacuate the whole work of man’s redemption.
For, as St. Paul argues most irrefragably, if righteousness is
by the law, then is Christ dead in vain: since upon this supposition there can be
no
But who art thou, O vain man! that durst reason thus about thy eternal state? when, if God should enter into judgment with the best of his servants, no flesh living could be justified in his sight: a sight that endures not the least unpardoned, unremitted transgression; that charges the very angels with folly. So infinitely exact, searching, and spiritual, is the eye of divine justice, and so vastly great is the prize of glory that we run for, so much higher and more valuable than our choicest and most elaborate performances!
And can we think then, that a few broken prayers, a few deeds of charity, a few fastings and abstinences, and restraints of our appetites, will carry in them such a commanding, controlling value, as to bear us through God’s tribunal, and to make the doors of heaven fly open before us, that we may even with the confidence of purchasers enter and take possession of the mansions of glory? Some perhaps may think so, who suppose they can never think too well of themselves.
But as arrogant as such a thought is, its arrogance is not greater
than its absurdity. For as Job says, Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean?
And as our Saviour, Who can gather figs from thistles? or the grapes of a perfect
righteousness from the briers and thorns of a corrupt and degenerate
And therefore let not any pharisee be too confident; for be his righteousness what it will, yet if he hopes to justify himself by it, he will find that persons justified in this manner are never glorified. Men may saint themselves as they please; but if they have nothing to read their saintship in but their own rubric, they may chance to find themselves condemned in heaven, after they have been canonized on earth.
And thus I have shewn the three great defects cleaving to the
righteousness of the pharisee, who is here represented as the grand exemplar and
standard of hypocrisy; all hypocrites more or less partaking of both the nature
and defects of the pharisaical righteousness. And if we now grant, as with great
truth and readiness we may, that the pharisee or hypocrite may live up to such glorious
externals and visible shows of religion, as to astonish the world with an admiration
of his sanctity; so that in the
And thus much for the first thing, which was, to shew the defects of the hypocritical, pharisaical righteousness. I proceed now to the
Second, which is, to shew those perfections and qualities by which the righteousness that saves and brings to heaven does transcend and surpass that. Many might be recounted, but I shall insist upon four especially.
1. As first, that it is entirely the same, whether the eye of man see it or see it not. It can do its alms where there is no trumpet to sound before it, and pray fervently where there is no spectator to applaud it. It finds the same enlargements and flowings of affection when it pours forth itself before God in private, as when it bends the knee in the solemn resorts of the multitude, and the face of the synagogue. It is contented, that the eye of Omniscience is upon it, and that it is observed by him who sees in secret, as scorning to move upon the inferior motives of popular notice and observation.
For it acts by a principle that holds no intercourse with the world, even the pure abstracted love of God, which would be as active and operative, if there were no other person in the world but him alone in whose breast it is. And therefore there is no external interest that can bear any share in the heat and activity of such an one’s devotion. It needs no company to keep it warm. For he transacts with God, and with God alone: so that if he can be heard above, he cares not whether or no he is seen here below.
But it is much otherwise with the hypocrite; his devotion grows
cold, if not warmed with the crowd and the throng. He designs not to be, but to
appear religious. He can willingly want the inward part of a Christian, so he may
be esteemed and commended for the outward. For as it is said of some
And it is this worthy principle that brings so many to the worship of God, only to court the eye of some potent, earthly great one, who perhaps commands and lords it over their hopes and their fears; so that when he is present, they will be sure to be so too; and when he is absent, they can be as ready to turn their back upon heaven, and to think it below their occasions, if not also their prudence, to sacrifice business to prayer, which is a thing that they never make their business.
But what would or could such a person plead, should God arrest him in the church, and summon him to his tribunal in the midst of those his solemn mockeries of heaven, and ask him who and what it was that brought him thither to that place? Surely he could not answer that it was God; for then why should not he be there as well in the absence of the grandee his patron, unless he thought that God also was one of his retinue, and so was no where to be found out of his company?
But this very thing makes it but too, too evident, that it is
a mortal eye that every such hypocrite adores; so that in all his most solemn addresses
he cannot so properly be said to act the Christian, as to
I wish all those would lay this consideration to heart who are concerned to do so, and measure the sincerity of that holiness they so much value themselves upon, by this one mark and criterion; for can they answer from their hearts, that it is purely the love of duty that engages them in duty? Is there nothing of pageantry and appearance that models and directs and gives laws to all the little designs they bring along with them to church? Does not the consideration of what such or such an one will say or think of them bring many to sermons, and, which I tremble to think of, even to the sacrament, who neither by the necessity or excellency of the duty itself would ever be induced to vouchsafe their attendance upon it; but could be contented to live without sacraments for ever, and to end their days like heathens and outlaws from all the graces of the second covenant and the mysteries of Christianity?
If there be any such that hear me, let them lay their hands upon their hearts, and assure themselves, that God loathes all their services, and detests their righteousnesses the highest affront that can be passed upon all his attributes, and consequently has assigned it its reward in the lot and portion of hypocrisy.
But now the sincere and the really holy person apprehends a beauty
and a worth in the very exercise of duty, and upon that account still carries the
2. A second property of such a righteousness as is saving and sincere, is an active watching against and opposing every even the least sin. How small and almost indiscernible is a dust falling into the eye, and yet how troublesome, how uneasy, and afflicting is it! Why just so is the least sin in the eye of a sanctified person; the sense of it is quick and tender, and so finds the smallest invasion upon it grating and offensive. We know when David cut off the skirt of Saul’s garment, at which time he was far from any hurtful designs upon his person, yet it is said of him, that immediately upon the doing of it his heart smote him; so fearful was he, lest he might have transgressed the lines of duty, though his conscience did not directly accuse him of any such transgression. Now as solicitous as David was after this action, so cautious and timorous is every sincere person before he attempts a thing. That plea for sin, Is it not a little one? which is the language of every rotten heart, is no argument at all with him for its commission.
For he knows that there is no sin so little, but is great enough
to dishonour an infinite God, and to ruin an immortal soul; none so little, but
designs and intends to be great, nay the greatest, and would certainly so prove,
if not cut off and suppressed by a mature prevention. Every lustful thought left
to its own natural course and tendency would be incest,
And this the new creature in every truly righteous person is sufficiently aware of, which makes him dread the very beginnings of sin, and fly even the occasions of it with horror. For he knows how easily it enters, and how hardly it is got out; how potent and artificial it is to tempt and insinuate, and how weak his heart is to withstand a suitable temptation.
He considers also how just it is with God to give those over to the highest pitch and degree of sin, who make no conscience of resisting its beginnings; and withal how frequently he does so, withdrawing the supports and influences of his grace, and leaving the soul, after every yielding to sin, more and more defenceless against the next encounter and assault it shall make upon him. All which considerations of a danger so vastly and incredibly great, are certainly very sufficient to warrant the nicest caution and fearfulness in this case, upon all accounts of prudence whatsoever.
But now if we examine the righteousness of an unsound, pharisaical
professor by this property, we shall find it far from being thus affected toward
sin; it easily connives at and allows the soul in all lesser excursions and declinations
from the rule, readily complies with the more moderate and less impudent
But the truly pious is never at rest in his mind, but when he stands upon his guard against the most minute and inobservable encroaches of sin, as knowing them upon this account perhaps more dangerous than greater; that the enemy that is least feared, is usually the soonest felt. For as in the robbing of an house, it is the custom for the sturdiest thieves to put in some little boy at the window, who being once within the house may easily open the doors, and let them in too: so the tempter, in rifling of the soul, despairs for the most part to attempt his entrance by some gross sin of a dismal, frightful hue and appearance, and therefore he employs a lesser, that may creep and slide into it insensibly; which yet, as little as it is, will so open and unlock the bars of conscience, that the biggest and the most enormous abominations shall at length make their entrance, and seize and take possession of it.
Let no man therefore measure the smallness of his danger by the
smallness of any sin; for the
3. The third discriminating property of a sincere, genuine, and
saving righteousness is, that it is such an one as never stops, or contents itself
in any certain pitch or degree, but aspires and presses forward to still an higher
and an higher perfection. As the men of the world, when they are once in a thriving
way, never think themselves rich enough, but are still improving and adding to their
stock; just so it is with every sanctified person in his Christian course: he will
never think himself holy and humble and mortified enough, but will still be making
one degree of holiness a step only to another; when he has kindled the fire in his
breast, his next business is to make it flame and blaze out. If it were possible
for him to assign such a precise measure of righteousness as would save him, yet
he would not acquiesce in it; since it is not the mere interest of
It is observed of the two nobler senses, the seeing and the hearing, that they are never tired with exerting themselves upon such things as properly affect them; for surely none ever surfeited upon music, or found himself cloyed with the sight of rare pictures. In like manner the desires of the righteous are so suited and framed to an agreeableness with the ways of God, that they find a continual freshness growing upon them in the performance of duty; the more they have prayed, the more fit and vigorous they find themselves for prayer: like a stream, which the further it has run, the more strength and force it has to run further.
Such persons are earned forth to duty, not upon designs of acquisition,
but gratitude; not so much to gain something from God, as (if it were possible)
to do something for him. And we all know, that the nature and genius of gratitude
is to be infinite and unmeasurable in the expressions of itself. It makes a David
cry out as if he even laboured and travailed to be delivered of some of those thankful
apprehensions of the divine goodness that his heart was big with;
But now if we come to try the spurious, unsound righteousness of the hypocrite by this test, how pitiful, how false, and how contemptible a thing will it appear! For he designs not to excel or to transcend in the ways of sanctity. If he can but patch up such a righteousness as shall satisfy and still his conscience, and keep it from grumbling and being troublesome, down he sits, and there takes up, as being far from the ambition of making a proficiency, or commencing any degree in the school of Christ. But, believe it, a man may be righteous in this manner long enough before he is like to be saved for being so. For the truth is, such an one does not really design to be righteous, but only to be quiet. And in this one thing you will find a never-failing mark of difference between a pharisaical hypocrite and a truly sanctified person, that the former measures his righteousness by the peace of his conscience, and the latter judges of the peace of his conscience by his righteousness.
4thly, The fourth and last property of a sincere and saving righteousness,
which most certainly distinguishes it from the hypocritical and pharisaical, is
humility. For I dare venture the whole truth of the gospel itself upon this challenge.
Shew me any hypocrite in the world that ever was humble. For the very nature and
design of hypocrisy is, to make a man a proud beggar; that is, by the most uncomely
mixture of qualities, at the same time poor and vainglorious. We have the exact
character of him in
But how does the sincere person behave himself both in and after every duty performed by him! Surely with a very different spirit. Self-abhorrence and confusion of face, like the poor publican, makes him cast down his eyes while he is lifting up his heart in prayer: and when he has exerted his very utmost zeal in the divine worship, he lays his person and his services in the dust before God, and is so far from expecting a reward for their value, that he counts it a mercy not to be condemned for their imperfection; and though God condemns him not, yet he is ready to condemn himself.
God be merciful to me a sinner, is the constant language of his
heart in the conclusion of his choicest performances: for when he has done his best,
he knows that it will scarce amount to so much as well: so that if there was not
a gospel to qualify and
Having thus finished the second thing, and shewn those perfections and qualities by which the righteousness that saves and brings to heaven does transcend and surpass that of the hypocrite and pharisee; I descend now to the
Third and last, which is, to shew the grounds, the reasons, and causes of the necessity of such a righteousness, in order to a man’s salvation, and entrance into the kingdom of heaven.
1. The first shall be taken from the holiness of God; whose nature
will never suffer him to hold so strict and intimate a communion with his creature,
as he does with those whom he admits into heaven, unless the divine image and similitude,
defaced by sin,
But the matter stops not here. Such an one is unfit for the presence
of God, not only upon the account of his impurity, but also of his enmity. For what
should a sinner do in heaven, any more than a traitor or a rebel do in court? The
exasperated justice of God will prey upon the unpardoned sinner wheresoever it meets
him, even in the highest heaven, if it were possible for him to come thither; and
whensoever it does so, it is that that makes hell; which is not so properly the
name of a place as of a condition; a condition consigning the soul over to endless
misery and desperation. And could we imagine a person locally in Abraham’s bosom,
yet if he
2dly, The other reason for the necessity of such a transcending righteousness, in order to a man’s entrance into heaven, shall be taken from the work and employment of a glorified person in heaven; which is the continual exercise of those graces which here on earth were begun, and there at length shall be advanced to their full perfection: as also the contemplation of God in all his attributes, together with the whole series of his astonishing actions, by which he was pleased to manifest and display forth those great attributes to the world: whether in creation, by which he exerted his omnipotence in calling forth so beautiful a fabric out of the barren womb of nothing and confusion; or in the several traces and strange meanders of his providence, in governing all those many casualties and contingencies in the world, and so steadily directing them to a certain end, by which he shews forth the stupendous heights of his wisdom and omniscience; and lastly, in the unparalleled work of man’s redemption, by which at once he glorified and unfolded all his attributes, so far as they could be drawn forth into the view of created understandings. Now a perpetual meditation and reflection upon these great subjects is the noble employment of the blessed souls in heaven.
But can any, whom the grace of God has not throughly renewed and
sanctified, be prepared and fitted for such a task? No, assuredly: and therefore
it is worth our observing, that those who, living dissolutely in this world,
do yet wish for the rewards of
Such persons deceive themselves when they wish themselves in heaven; and, in truth, know not what they desire: for however they may dread and abhor hell, yet it is impossible for them to desire heaven, did they know what they were to do there: and therefore, instead of making Balaam’s wish, that they may die the death of the righteous, they should do well to live the life of such; and to hearken to Christ commanding them to seek the kingdom of heaven, by first seeking the righteousness thereof. For it is righteousness alone that must both bring men to heaven, and make heaven itself a place of happiness to those that are brought thither.
To which, the God of heaven, and Fountain of all happiness, vouchsafe to bring us all: to whom be rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, both now and for evermore. Amen.
The following alterations have been made by conjecture. See the Advertisement in the 5th volume.
P. 54. l. penult, of some] The original edition reads or some
—77. l. 21. intention] intentions
—119. l. 12. brook] break
—133. l. 26. abides; like] abides like
—184. l. 17. are] is
—198. 27. many a foil] many foil
—230. l. 22. the first thing in] the first in
—243. l. 6. were] was
—255. l. 29. ancients] ancient
—291. l. 18. or women] and women
—348. l. 25. any thing of] any of
—367. l. 29. sabbaths] sabbath
ABILITIES, ministerial, when given to the apostles, v. 33, &c.
Abstinence. See Fasting.
Acts of hostility must be forborne, vii. 7, &c.
Actions, good, are pleasant, v. 281.
——moral, of no value in the sight of God, v. 295, &c.
——of our Saviour, are of three sorts, v. 420. how amiable to us, ib.
Adversary, in
Adversity, no excuse for sin, v. 178, &c. See Afflictions.
Adultery creates much trouble, vii. 146.
Advocate. See Mediation of Christ.
Affections and lusts. See Flesh. Their power over the soul, v. 408. How to be conquered, vii. 203, &c.
Affliction of the body helps to humble the soul, vi. 391, &c.
Afflictions of the mind or soul. See Spirit wounded. Why God brings them on the wicked and reprobate, vi. 132. And on the pious and sincere, 24, 132, &c. are not tokens of God’s displeasure, v. 440-443. Are limited by God’s overruling hand, 473. And the effect of his will, vi. 17, &c. 489. Differ from punishments, 18. Ought not to be feared, v. 476, &c. See Fear. Afford us great comfort, 474. We may pray God to divert them, and endeavour to prevent and remove them, vi. 490, &c. Their spiritual use, 434, &c. Must not be scoffed at, 135, 136. See Justice divine, Anger.
Agag, vi. 146.
Anabaptists rebellious in Germany, vii. 80.
Angels, v. 331, &c. Their % habitation, 333. Employment, ib. &c. Knowledge, vii. 339, &c. vi. 377. Why Christ took not their nature upon him, v. 505.
——fallen, their sin was greater than that of man, v. 505, &c. Can never be pardoned, vi. 49. See Intercession.
Anger must be suppressed, v. 422, &c. An obstacle to reproof, 146-148. vii. 101.
——how ascribed to God, v. 438. Every affliction is not the effect
of God’s anger, 440, &c. and 442. vi. 10, 11, 29. How
Angry persons, in what they delight, vii. 3. Will not admit of reproof, 101. See Anger.
Annihilation not the greatest punishment of a man, v. 483, 484.
Antinomians, v. 84, 87. vii. 180.
Antiquity, whether better than the present time, v. 240, &c.
Apollonius Tyanaeus, v. 28.
Apollinarians, v. 499.
Apostles were ignorant before the coming of the Holy Ghost, v. 29. Their commission explained, 460, &c.
Appetite, its use and abuse, vii. 203, 204. How to be conquered, ib. Not the cause of sin, v. 350. See Flesh, Concupiscence.
Arians, v. 499.
Aristotle’s opinion of intemperance, &c. vii. 183. His use and abuse of Solomon’s writings, vi. 322.
Armenians, v. 499.
Arminian, vi. 366.
Arms, whether lawful to be taken up against our prince, vii. 38, &c. See Passive Obedience, War.
Ascension. See Christ.
Assassination, vii. 229. See Duelling.
Astrology, its vanity, v. 347, 348.
Atheism, what it is, vi. 169, 182. Motives thereto, 181. Its chief weapons, 172. How to be prevented, 185.
Atheist, his craft, vi. 170. His pleasure, 171. Wish, ib. Power, 172. Method of proceeding and arguments, 172, 173. Weak conjectures, 174, 175. And his folly, 178-184. Is tied by no bonds of justice, v. 298. Becomes the pest of society, ib. and the most of all men afraid at the approach of death, 51.
Attributes of God’s justice, mercy, and righteousness, what they signify, vi. 363, &c.
Attrition, v. 104, &c.
Authority of a bishop, v. 62.
Babylon, vii. 215, 216.
Backsliding, v. 187, &c.
Bacon, vi. 181.
Believers are subject to temptations, v. 307, &c. vi. 345. See Regenerate Persons. Must resist temptations, v. 312. By what means, 313, &c.
Believing, whether in the power of man’s will, vi. 84. Its difficulty, v. 407. Motives thereto, vi. 382, &c.
Benignity of God, vi. 525.
Bishop, his office, v. 58, 59. Authority, 62. Necessary qualifications, 59, &c.
Blasphemy, vi. 47. vii. 403.
Blindness cured by Christ, vi. i. Why, vi. 6.
Bloodshedding, its sinfulness, vii, 211-214. Its different sorts, 228, &c. Is accompanied with other sins, 226, &c. Why a curse or wo is particularly pronounced against it, 223-227. And is most remarkably punished and revenged by God, 216, &c.
Body, how it affects the soul, vii. 182-184.
——of Christ, v. 12. &c.
Boldness in prayer towards God, vii. 306, 307.
Books,
——the cause of them, vi. 335, &c.
Brain, its labour exceeds all other exercises, vi. 329, &c
Calamity, general or common, how to be applied, vi. 145. See also vi. 8.
Calling, or employment, diligently pursued, is part of our duty to God, v. 38.
Calling and election, who make it sure, vi. 319.
Callings, where learning is necessary, are attended with most labour and misery, vi. 331, &c.
Carnal corruptions, vi. 73-75.
Casuistry of the papists exploded, vi. 281.
Calvin’s opinion of reprobation, vi. 139.
Censuring condemned, vi. 8.
Charles I. (King) whether lawfully executed, vii. 229, &c.
Charity, its excellency, vi. 231, &c.
Chastity may be defended by force of arms, vii. 69.
Chemistry, vi. 335.
Christ was conceived in the womb of his mother by the immediate
power of God, vi. 304. Is the Son of God in several respects, ib. Came to destroy
the works of the Devil, vii. 238-248. In what manner, 248-252. His humiliation was
his own choice, v. 4, &c. 501. How he descended from heaven, 4, 5. and into what
place, 5, &c. Why sent into the world, 493. Took on him the seed of Abraham, 497.
Why he took upon him the nature of man rather than of angels, 504, &c. The union
of his two natures, 11, &c. His divine nature proved, 497. His human nature proved,
498, &c. Being born king of the Jews, why he did not assume that regal government,
vii. 273, &c. His offices, 179. The truth of his office, and divinity of his mission,
v. 500, &c. His power how manifested, 2. Cured one that was born blind, vi. 2. Why,
6. Why he bid the young man sell all his possessions, v. 399. His righteousness
how imputed to us, 86. Cannot be perfectly imitated, vi. 209. Why troubled in spirit,
112. His great sorrow, 118, 119. The preliminaries of his passion, 120. Rose from
the dead by his own power, 305. To whom his benefits do extend, vii. 247, &c. His
ascension, v. 8-10. How he filleth all things, 15-21. His power and office in
Christ, to be Christ’s, what is meant thereby, vii. 179-181, 205, 206.
Christian, who properly so called, vii. 206. See Regenerate Persons.
Christianity, its design, v. 34. vii. 11. Its spirit and soul, v. 107. Its excellency, 81, &c. vii. 153. Completes the law of nature, vii. i. Its advantages, v. 1. Is a state of warfare, 49, 393. of self-denial, 50. Requires us to proceed from grace to grace, 45. See Religion, Worship.
Church of Christ, v. 25-27. Its state at different times, 238, &c. Has a just right to its possessions, vii. 26, &c.
Church of England, its state during the time of the grand rebellion, v. 57, &c. Has a just right to its possessions, vii. 27, &c.
Comfort, which is conveyed to man by the Spirit of God, vi. 90, &c.
Comforter, or the Holy Ghost, vi. 89-93. See Holy Ghost.
Commission given by Christ to his apostles explained, v. 460, &c.
Commands of God, why they should be observed, vi. 382-386.
Comparisons in a spiritual state are dangerous, vi. 469, &c.
Complaints against the evil of the present times are irrational, v. 244. How to be remedied, 247, &c.
Concealing defects or vices in a friend is flattery, v. 112, &c.
Concupiscence, vi. 73, &c. vii. 180, &c.
Confession, vii. 202. Motives thereto, vi. 380, &c.
Confidence towards God, what it is, vii. 306-319. How grounded, 319-335.
Conscience, its nature, vi. 151, 152. Its duty, v. 286. Mostly injured by presumptuous sins, 202, &c. The causes of its remorse, 393-398. Its stings and remorses are terrible, vi. 127. vii. 62, &c. Not always necessary to be felt in the sincere and regenerate, vi. 137, 138. Who they are that sin against its checks and warnings, v. 184, 185. &c. Cannot be distinguished into politic and private, 37, 132. Its danger when stupid and hardened, vi. 151, &c. See Hypocrite. How it grows hardened, 152, &c.
——Troubled. See Wounded spirit.
Constitution. See Temper.
Consubstantiation, v. 17.
Contentious persons described, vii. 4, &c. 101.
Contingencies. See Decrees, Foreknowledge, Things future, and vi. 376, &c.
Conversion, how mistaken by the hypocrite, v. 417. See Regeneration.
Conviction of the will, how performed, vii. 377. See Will.
Courage required in a bishop, v. 59, &c. In a Christian, vi. 415. See Fortitude.
Counsels of God not to be inquired into, vi. 491. See Decrees, Purposes.
Cowardice is neither acceptable to God nor man, vi. 415. v. 49, &c. See Passive Obedience, War.
Credulity, v. 137. See Believing.
Crellius, v. 438.
Crucifixion of the flesh. See Flesh.
Cruelty of the world, encouragements against it, v. 462, &c.
Curiosity, its nature and danger, vi. 32, &c.
Curse of God, its power, vii. 217.
Custom, its force and tyranny O7er the conscience, v. 410.
Damnation, how expressed in scripture, v. 480. How it ought to influence us, v. 468.
Damned, their misery, 7.481. See Punishment eternal, Death, Destruction.
Darius, vi. 116.
David considered in a double capacity, v. 338. His prayer to, and praise of God, vi. 338, &c. His uprightness, vi. 339, &c. Was a type of Christ, vi. 115.
Day, its meaning in scripture, v. 36, 46, 47.
Death, vii. 138, 247. Temporal, ib. How it creeps upon us, ib. Compared to eternal, 7ii. 140. Eternal, ib. Deprives us of all worldly comforts and pleasures, 141. and of the enjoyment of God, 142. Fills both soul and body with the most intense pains, torment, and anguish, 143, &c. Why called the wages of sin, 144, &c. Objections against eternal death answered, 148. See Destruction.
Death-bed repentance, whether effectual to salvation, vi. 273, &c. Its impossibility would create despair, 289, &c. Examples of its having been effectual, 283, &c. To rely thereon is foolish and hazardous, 290, &c. Is difficult to be conceived and proved, 292, &c. Its hinderances, 291, &c.
Declared, in
Decrees of God take nothing from man’s free-will, v. 344. vii. 382, &c. Cannot be the cause of sin, v. 344-347. See Free-will, Purposes of God.
Defence. See Force, War.
Deliverance of the Israelites from Pharaoh and his host, vi. 193. Of England from the grand rebellion, compared thereto, 194, &c. Its greatness, 193. Unexpectedness, 195, &c. Seasonableness, 199, &c. and undeservedness, 201, &c.
Deliverances, miraculous, exemplified, vi. 187, 188. What is chiefly to be considered in them, 206. Signal and unexpected, are the strongest and sweetest ways of God’s convicting us of our sins, 149. Should make us thankful and obedient, 150.
Delusion, how spread over the world at the coming of Christ, vii. 239, &c.
Dependance (our) is on Christ’s merit and mediation, vii. 321.
Descent of Christ. See Christ, Humiliation.
——of the Holy Ghost. See Holy Ghost.
Desertion of God, its bad effects on man, vi. 123, 127, 128. See God, Spirit of God withdrawn.
Designs of God. See Decrees.
Desires. See Thoughts, and vii. 164, 165.
Despair, who are chiefly subject thereto, v. 198. How caused, vi. 173, 174. See Death-bed Repentance. Is opposite to trust in God, vii. 307. and makes a man uncapable of his duty to God, vi. 34.
Destruction of sinners, when designed by God, v. 378. vi. 142-154. How effected, vi. 153. Of soul and body in hell, v. 480-483. Why this is the most terrible of all punishments, 482.
Detraction. See Flattery.
Detractor and the flatterer compared, v. 112, &c.
Devil, his power, v. 350. Works, vii. 238. How conquered, 238-248. See Christ. Why he hates man, v. 303. Why he tempts man, 304-307. By what ways and means, 307-312. vii. 241, &c. Is not to be charged with our sins, v. 350, 351.
Diagoras Melius, vi. 168.
Difficulty of working out our salvation, v. 259, &c.
Dionysius, v. 279.
Discontent. See Complaints.
Discontents. See Disgusts.
Disgrace torments the mind, v. 281.
Disgusts, inward, must be suppressed by a Christian, v. 423, 424.
Dispensation cannot be granted to do evil, v. 96, &c. Popish, on what grounded, 97.
Dispensations or judgments of God, what opinion is to be formed of them, v. 440-442.
Disputes, whence they arise, vi. 335, 336. See Knowledge human.
Dissembling of others defects or vices is flattery, v. 112, &c.
Dissimulation. See Flattery, Hypocrite. Is a companion of cruelty, vii. 226, &c.
Distrusts of God are unreasonable, vi. 91. See Dependance.
Divines, observations on their parentage, vi. 321.
Divinity, the most laborious of all studies, vi. 332, &c.
Doctrines of Christ, their nature, vi. 307, &c. Cannot be proved by his miracles, 315, &c. But by the prophecies fulfilled in him, 309. And that not found conclusive to all persons, 310, &c.
Doctrines preached in the name of Christ must be tried, v. 106.
By what means, 107-110. Not to be accepted, because common, general, or ancient,
108. Nor on account of the preacher’s
Dominion of God is absolute, vi. 18, 519.
Doubts, how cleared, vi. 96.
Drunkenness is painful, vii. 146.
Duellers, what dangers they encounter, vii. 58, &c.
Duelling, what it is, vii. 49, 64. In what cases lawful, 49, &c. when unlawful, 58, &c. Its bad consequences, 58, &c. How discountenanced by antiquity, 57.
Δυνάμει ἐν explained, vi. 299, &c.
Duties, Christian, are all reducible to faith, obedience, and patience, vi. 486. How enforced, 34.
Ear hearing explained, vi. 65, &c.
Earth, its lower parts explained, v. 5, &c.
Education, when mistaken for piety and grace, vii. 157.
Ἔλαβε καὶ ἔδωκε explained, v. 23.
Election and elected, v. 489. vi. 319. See God.
Employment. See Idleness, Industry, Labour, Learning, Divinity.
Enemy not to be caressed as a friend, vi. 504. Our duty to him, 505. vii. 30. See War.
Enticing to sin, its crime, v. 357-361.
Ἐπιλαμβάνεται explained, v. 494-496.
Epicurus, vi. 169.
Episcopacy is superior to presbytery, v. 55, 58.
Equity is essential to the nature of God, vi. 20, &c.
Erastus, v. 62.
Estate. See Calling, Goods.
Eternity, what, v. 480. Of torments, 481. See Destruction.
Eunomians, v. 499.
Exaltation of Christ. See Ascension.
Examination of one’s self necessary, vi. 471.
Example. See Custom.
Excuses for sin. See Devil, God, Infirmity, Ignorance, Presumption, Sin.
Expressions, outward, must be restrained, v. 424-428. Smooth, their effects, v. 429.
Extremes are dangerous, vii. 68, &c.
Faith is threefold, v. 300. Saving faith, 80, 81, 300, 301. When mistaken, vi. 459. Is only able to make a man victorious, v. 313-315. In what manner, 316-322.
Farthing, paying the uttermost, explained, v. 253.
Fasting, in what it consists, vi. 212-219, 390-396. Its use, 224, 387.
Its qualifications, 222-233. It must be sincere, 227, &c. Attended with an hatred
to sin, 227-229. Enlivened with prayer, 229-231. and accompanied with alms-deeds
and works of mercy, 231-233. It is a duty both moral,
Fasting, national, required for national sins, vi. 397, &c.
Father, in
Favour of God, who sins against it, v. 186, 187.
Fear, described, v. 449, 450, 472, 475, 476. vi. 51, 52, 53. Is twofold, 466. Of God must be preferred to the fear of man, 487, &c. Fear not them that can kill the body, 465. What ought not to be feared, 465-480. The fear of man draws to many sins, 488, &c. Its esteem how raised, vii. 396, &c. Is improper in a minister of God’s word, v. 462.
Fearfulness, vii. 219. See Fear.
Fervency of prayer, how prevented, vi. 358, &c.
Flatterer described, v. 129, 130, 141, 142, 152-158. His designs detected, 152-158. Who are the greatest flatterers, 134-137.
Flattery, in what it consists, v. 112-143. vii. 108. Its ends and designs, v. 152-158. Who are most liable to be flattered, 144-151. The reasons on which it is grounded, 144, &c. Its effects, 141, 217.
Flesh, a corrupt habit so called, vi. 342. vii. 181-191. Must be crucified, vii. 193-203. How to be crucified, 203-205. Its necessity, 205.
——With its affections and lusts, explained, v. 311, 312. vii. 180, 181.
Flood, why brought upon the earth, vii. 357, &c.
Fool, who, vi. 177. saith in his heart, explained, 169-184.
Force, when lawful to be used, vii. 37, 65, 66, 67. Under what restrictions, 75, &c. Against whom, 78, &c. Not by a private man against his governor, 40. See War.
Foreknowledge. See God.
Forsaken of God, the danger, vi. 123, 127, 128. See Desertion.
Forgiveness of God, whence it flows, vi. 37, &c. What it is, 40, &c. Of what number of sins, 45, &c. Of what magnitude, 47, &c. On whom bestowed, 49. Why to be expected, 57. vii. 12, &c. Should enforce our fear of God, vi. 54. Is more reasonably to be expected from man than from God, v. 383-385.
Form of godliness, vii. 156. See Godliness, &c.
Fortitude is the gift of the Holy Ghost, vi. 38, &c.
Forum conscientiae, v. 394.
Free-will, v. 77, &c. vi. 275, 327, 328, 367, 421, 495.
Friendship, its real signs, v. 151. See Flatterer.
Futurity. See Things future, Foreknowledge, Omniscience.
Generations. See Complaints.
Gift of miracles, vi. 97. Of tongues, v. 33. vi. 98. Of Christian courage, ib.
Gifts ministerial, when given to the apostles, v. 32.
Gluttony, is painful, vii. 146.
Glory, its love what able to produce, v. 273-278. Why it influenceth us, 280-285. Is not able to make us victorious, 285-294. Of God the end of all his works. See Honour. How engaged, 365-371.
God, his being or existence, by whom denied, vi. 168, &c. 175, 176. There is no God, how to be understood, 169-177. Our Creator, v. 365-371. How he governs the world, 290. Knoweth all things, 210-212, 215, 216. vi. 366-371. Rules and governs the secret passages of man’s life, v. 212. By discovering them, 213. His most secret intentions, ibid. Designs, 214. Is the only object of our worship, 386. How to be rightly known, 77, &c. Judgeth men for sin in this life, 216. His proceeding against sinners, vi. 139. Prepares and ripens them for destruction, 142 154. See Destruction. When provoked to swear against man, 164. Will judge men at the day of judgment, v. 218, &c. Why called merciful, righteous, and just, &c. vi. 364, &c. Intends his own glory in all his doings, 524, &c. How he deals with those in affliction, 528, &c. Particularly punisheth the bloodshedder, vii. 225, &c. When he speaks convincingly, vi. 145, 149. At what time he withdraws his Spirit from a hard heart, vii. 359. &c. How he concurs to harden the heart, vi. 78, &c. Does not move any to sin, 80. May justly punish those from whom he has withdrawn his Spirit, 81, &c. How his honour is vindicated, vii. 390-397. What it is to see God, 168, &c. His love and favour how engaged, v. 365-370. His goodness, vi. 525. Considered in relation to Christ, as a father, vii. 322, &c. as a judge, 323, &c.
Godliness, its form availeth nothing to salvation, vii. 156, &c. It sometimes proceeds from a strict education, 157. Or from the circumstances and occasions of a man’s life, 159, &c. Or from a care and tenderness of his own reputation, 160, &c. See Hypocrite.
Goodness of God, vi. 525.
Goods, when they may be defended by force of arms, vii. 70, &c.
Gospel, its great intent and design, v. 34. vii. 385-390. How it was published, v. 34. Its truth, 73. How proved, 403-405. Contains all things necessary to salvation, 83. It worketh in us what is good, 75. Gives us right notions of God, 77, &c. and of our duty to man, ib. Its duties mistaken by the hypocrite, vi. 454-458.
Government, its strength, in what it consists, v. 68, &c.
Government, or employment, how it influenceth men, v. 30.
Grace of God is a free gift, vi. 63, &c. How wrought in us, v. 45, 46. Why some cannot improve its means, vi. 69-76. Its power, 162. Withdrawn is the sinner’s destruction, 153. See Destruction. May be denied, 159. See Spirit of God withdrawn.
Grace universal, opinions concerning it, vi. 83.
——under grace, its meaning, v. 88, &c.
Grieving the Spirit, its danger, vii. 397, &c. See Spirit of God withdrawn.
Grotius, his opinion of opposing the civil magistrate, vii. 41, &c.
Guilt makes a man irreconcileable, vi. 57.
Happiness, in what it consists, v. 398, 467. Why so few attain it, vii. 152. What was so esteemed by heathens, v. 397, 398.
Hardness of a sinner’s heart how effected, vi. 77 81, 153. vii. 402. Cannot be ascribed to God as its cause, viii. 287. Its danger, vi. 153. vii. 359, &c. See Destruction, Heart.
Hatred, its nature, v. 442.
——of God. See Anger.
Hearing, vii. 427. See Ear hearing.
Heart. See Hardness. May remain hardened in the midst of convincing means, vi. 62, 69-76.
——Converted, is the gift of God, vi. 63, &c. See Grace.
——Perceiving, what is meant thereby, vi. 65-69.
Hell described, v. 480, &c.
Herod’s behaviour at the report of the magi, vii. 270. His usurpation, vii. 266. cruelty, vi. 267-271. Magnificence, vii. 268. See Magi.
Hinderances to a death-bed repentance, vi. 291, &c.
Hobbes, vi. 108.
Holiness of God should deter us from sin, vii. 430, 431.
Holy Ghost, why sent, vi. 96. His procession, 87. Office, 89 96. What he was to testify of Christ, 97. By what ways and means, ib. When and how conferred, v. 27-33. Is necessary to enable man to conquer his spiritual enemies, 317-319. See Spirit of God.
Honour or justice of God vindicated, vii. 390-395.
Hope may dwell with the hypocrite, vi. 442-448. Of the sinner is vain, vii. 433. Will meet with miserable disappointments, vi. 472-477.
Humiliation is the end God proposes by his judgments, vi. 408, &c. Must be personal and particular, 403, &c. Gives us hopes that God will pardon our sins, 405-408. See Repentance, Sin.
——National, is necessary for national sins, vi. 397, &c.
——Of Christ, v. 4, &c. 501-504.
Humility is a distinguishing property of Christian righteousness, vii. 427, &c. See Poverty of Spirit.
Hypocrite described, vi. 440, &c. His hope, 442. May hope to be
happy, 443, &c. How he attains this hope, 448-460. How he continues and preserves
this hope, 465-472. Relies
Hypostatical union, v. 11, 12.
Idleness exploded, v. 39.
Idolatry, how practically committed, vi. 177, 178.
Jealousy is full of vexation, vii. 219.
Jeremy the prophet, in what particulars he resembled a bishop, v. 56.
Jesting, when inconvenient, v. 124.
Jews, their idolatry, impurity, rebellion, v. 502, &c. vi. 59, 62. God’s dealings with them, 59, &c. vii. 362, &c. Provoked God to wrath, vi. 189-192. vii. 360, &c. Their sinfulness, 245, &c. The cause of their undutifulness to God, vi. 205-207. Their unbelief inexcusable, vii. 237, &c. Believed a transmigration of souls, vi. 2, 3. Why God withdrew his Spirit from them, vii. 360, &c. Their deliverance out of Egypt and from Pharaoh, vi. 193, &c.
Ignorance is the foundation of the hypocrite’s hope, vi. 448, &c. When it excuseth a sin, v. 163-165, 364, 365. When not, 364.
Illumination of the Spirit, what, vii. 371. Is threefold, vii. 372-374.
Imitation of vice is base and servile, v. 138.
Impatience is compounded of pride and anger, vi. 537, &c.
Impediments. See Hinderances.
Impenitence. See Repentance delayed dangerous.
Impudence in prayer to God described, vii. 314, &c.
Inclinations, good, whence they proceed, vii. 377.
Indifference in things spiritual, vi. 76.
Indigence, whence it is a curse, vi. 413. See Poverty.
Indulgences condemned, v. 85. See Dispensations.
Industry necessary in all states of men, v. 38, &c. Why, 40.
Infirmity, sins of, v. 167. vii. 135.
Injuries done and said, which most resented by men, v. 428. A breach of Christian peace, vii. 7, &c. May be punished, vii. 19, &c.
Injustice. See Destruction, Spirit of God withdrawn.
Innocence and integrity required in a bishop, v. 60, &c.
Insensibility, vi. 151.
Instinct, v. 328.
Integrity. See Innocence.
Intemperance. See Aristotle.
Intention, v. 136. to sin, shews a love thereof, vi. 348, &c. By whom directed and governed, v. 213.
Intercession of saints distinguished into general and particular, vii. 349. Of angels and saints disproved, 339, &c.
Intercessor, none other between God and man but Christ Jesus, vii. 339, &c.
Interest, private, the cause of contention, vii. 6.
Job’s affliction scarce to be equalled, vi. 120. Tended to his own good, vi. 28, 29.
Irreverence in prayer, vii. 314, &c.
Israelites. See Jews.
Judge,
in
Judgment (our own) ought not to be too pertinaciously adhered to, vii. 120, &c.
——can be passed by no man upon his own final estate, vi. 162. See Presumption, Security.
——will be executed by God for the sins of men, v. 216, 217, &c. See Destruction, God. Of God is irrevocable and irreversible, v. 267-271.
——particular or personal, vi. 147. When unjustly charged, 7-11, 29. Why unjustly charged in regard to God, 11-17. Should draw men to repentance, v. 178-180. vi. 389, &c. How to be most effectually averted, vi. 398, &c. vii. 175, 176. The end of God’s judgments, vi. 408, &c. What use to be made of them, vi. 434, &c.
——general, why inflicted for particular sins, vi. 398, &c.
Jurisdiction, ecclesiastical, its origin, v. 63. Settled by law, ib. See Church.
Justice divine, is essential to God’s nature, vi. 20, 364, &c. 527, &c. Could not be satisfied by any thing created, vi. 43. Is not to be escaped, v. 194. vi. 124, &c. Its method of proceeding, 124, 125. vii. 210, 216.
Justification of a sinner, v. 85. Should be our chief aim, v. 84, &c.
Kindness of God, vi. 525. See Goodness, Mercy.
Kingdom of Christ, what, vi. 56. vii. 274.
——of heaven, in
Kings not to be resisted by force. See Force, Passive Obedience, War.
King-killers, their judgments from God, vii. 231.
Knowledge of God, v. 209-211, 229. vi. 366-371, 374. How proved, v. 218-221. vi. 368, &c. Its excellency, vi. 371-380. Properties, vi. 371 &c. Certainty, ib. Independency, 373, &c. Universality, 374, &c. Of our thoughts, 379, &c. What influence it ought to have over us, 380-386.
Knowledge, human, vi. 320, &c. Its nature, 324, &c. By whom to
be judged, 320. Why so much praised, ib. In itself is vain, 323. In matters of salvation
is necessary, 322, 323. Is always attended with sorrow, 324-337. Is the instrument
of
——angelical, its extent, vii. 339-346. See Divinity, Learning.
Labour is necessary to all men, v. 39. See Industry.
Language, injurious, is a breach of Christian peace, vii. 13, &.c. See Expressions outward, Revile not again.
Law of God is indispensable, v. 96, &c. Exceptions thereto, ibid.
——moral, obligatory, v. 87, &c.
——of the land, a laborious study, vi. 331. Whether it be lawful to go to law, vii. 79, &c. Is necessary, vii. 89, &c. Under what restrictions, 93, &c. 122. Upon what grounds it proceeds, 88, &c. Arguments against going to law, 81, &c.
Law, not under, but under grace, explained, v. 88, &c.
Learning, human, necessary in the ministerial function, v. 31. In what other callings necessary, vi. 331, &c. By whom most commended, 320. See Knowledge human.
Lent, its instruction and use, vi. 217. Mentioned by the council of Nice, and many of the ancient fathers, ibid.
Libels against the Church of England in the time of the grand rebellion, v. 65, &c.
Libertines, v. 51, &c. vii. 180.
Life is short, v. 46, 256, &c. Long enough for the purposes and end of our creation, 47, &c. Limited by God’s decree, 48. Is the only time to make our peace with God, 256, &c. Is uncertain, 263-266. All its secret passages are known to God, 212. May be defended by force of arms, vii. 66, &c. Its loss is irreparable, vii. 225.
——good, what, v. 285. vi. 279. Is necessary to salvation, 273, &c.
——spiritual, its fountain, v. 316. vi. 466.
——eternal, how to be obtained, v. 416. See Religion, Worship.
Light of the Spirit. See Illumination.
——natural, joins with revelation concerning a future state, v. 393-402.
——special, vii. 374, &c.
——notional, vii. 373.
——universal, why called the light of nature and of the Spirit, vii. 372, &c.
Lip-devotion is of no signification, vii. 156. See Form of Godliness.
Live peaceably,
Love of God towards man, why, v. 365-370. vii. 396.
——of Christ by man, what it is, vii. 278-290. Reasons and motives to induce us thereunto, 290, &c. How it may be known to be in us, 299 304.
——of glory. See Glory.
——of sin, is constant and habitual in the unregenerate, vii. 410, &c.
Lowliness of spirit. See Poverty of Spirit.
Lucius Sylla, v. 280.
Lusts, what are so, v. 343. How the cause of sin, v. 356-360. See Flesh.
Luxury, v. 461, 462.
Lying down, in
Machiavel, v. 501. vii. 161.
Magi, or wise men, who they were, vii. 255, &c. Their quality, 257, &c. Their country, 258. The time of their coming to Jerusalem, 260, &c. By what kind of a star they were guided, 262, &c. How they could collect the birth of the Messiah from the sight of that star, 263, &c.
Mahomet, v. 29.
Malice, its effect, vi. 15-17. Against God, whence it proceeds, 35 &c.
Man in his natural state, or after his fall, v. 198, 313-315, 504, &c. vii. 191, 359, 370. His condition before the flood, vii. 357, &c. Is naturally at enmity with God, 359, &c. Considered as a member of a body politic, v. 37. And in a spiritual and temporal capacity, 37 40, &c. Cannot repent in the grave, 46, &c. How supported by Providence, 329-331. His obligations to God as his Creator, 334-336. Is unable to make any satisfaction to God, 261, &c.
Manifestation of the Son of God, how, vii. 235, &c. Why, 238. Was to remove and conquer delusion, 239, &c. Sin, 243, &c. Death, 247, &c.
Marcionites, v. 498.
Mediation of Christ, considered in regard of God, vii. 321-325. In regard to men, 326-330. Why only to be performed by Christ, 331-336.
Melancholy persons. See Spirit wounded.
Men-pleasers, v. 490.
Mercy of God over all his works, v. 323-341. Manifested in two respects, 321. vi. 41-44, 364, &c. Abused, the danger, v. 194, &c. vi. 58. Is pleasant to the soul, v. 29. To whom extended, vi. 451, &c. 525. By whom denied, vi. 287, &c. Vindicated, vii. 393, &c.
Merit exploded, vi. 428. vii. 338, &c.
Metempsychosis, vi. 3.
Mind of man described, vi. 443, &c.
Ministry of God’s word. See Commission.
Miracles are the work of God, vi. 187, &c. Why used by Moses, v. 28. vi. 187. Wrought by Christ, and why, v. 28, 403, 404. By his disciples, vi. 97, &c. Continued in the church on extraordinary occasions, 188, &c. Pretended to by great impostors in religion, v. 28. Are difficult to be known to be really the work of God, vi. 313-318. Are not a sufficient proof that Christ was the Messiah, 310, 311, 316. Why God enabled his servants to work them, 187, &c. Are all inferior to the resurrection of Christ, 310, &c.
Misapprehension of God and his attributes, dangerous, vi. 448, &c. See Hypocrite.
Misery inflicted by man, not to be feared, v. 468-480.
——eternal, what, v. 415, 480, &c. How to be avoided, 482. Of an unrepenting sinner inevitable, 267, &c. See Destruction.
Mission of Christ, its divinity, v. 500, &c.
Misunderstanding of sin one cause of an hypocrite’s hope, vi. 452, &c.
Morality, its principal duties, vi. 223. Are the general duties for which a man will be judged at the last day, v. 82, 86, 87.
Mortification of the flesh is difficult, vii. 191. Advantageous, vi. 224, 234, 235. Is erroneously taught by the Church of Rome, 232, &c.
——of sin, what, vi. 347, &c. Necessary in believers, ib.
Mother, in
Murmurings against God unreasonable, v. 178-181. vi. 91, 522. Must be suppressed, 499, &c.
Name, good, how esteemed amongst men, v. 430.
Nature alone is weak, vi. 70, &c.
——of Christ. See Christ.
——of God is incomprehensible, vi. 363, &c.
Nebuchadnezzar, God’s wo or curse against him, vii. 211.
Nicolaitans, vi. 244, 248.
Night, in scripture, explained, v. 36.
Novelty. See Knowledge human.
Numa Pompilius, v. 28.
Oath of God, what, vi. 139.
Obedience, passive, vii. 213, 214. See Grotius, Paraeus, Passive.
——active and passive, include the whole duty of a Christian, v. 419.
Obstinacy against God’s judgments, its danger and folly, v. 178-181.
Offences against God and man, their difference, v. 383, &c.
Office of Christ. See Christ, Mediation, Intercessor, Mission.
Officer, in
Omnipresence of God, v. 220, &c.
Omniscience of God, v. 218, &c. vi. 366-371, 380-386.
——of Christ, vii. 332, &c. See Christ, Knowledge.
Opinion, probable, what it is, vi. 442. See Judgment.
Oppression is criminal, vii. 8, &c.
Ordinances of the Gospel, their efficacy, vi. 142 144.
Origen’s opinion of Christ’s body considered, v. 13.
Ὀρισθέντος explained, vi. 297, &c.
Parable contains two parts, v. 254. How it is to be applied, ib.
Paraeus, (David,) his doctrine concerning the resistance of a lawful prince, vii. 43, &c. Answered, 44-48.
Pardon must be accompanied with oblivion, v. 127.
Passions must be bridled, vi. 497.
Passive obedience, vii. 42, &c. 229, &c.
Path in
Patience described, vi. 486. vii. 19, &c. Its excellency, vi. 506, &c. Difficult to be attained, 508. How to be practised, v. 421, &c. See Affliction, Submission to God’s Will.
Peace, its nature, vii. 37, &c. With all men impossible, 2, &c. With God, a necessary to salvation, v. 41, &c. Of conscience., not enjoyed by all men, vi. 237, &c. How endeavoured by the hypocrite, 452, &c.
Peaceably. See Live peaceably.
Pelagius, vi. 421. Doctrine of original sin, vii. 132. Of universal grace, vi. 84.
Penitent, dying, his capacity, vi. 274, 279, &c. May sincerely repent, 280, 292.
Perdition. See Destruction, and vi. 143.
Perfection of God, how to be imitated, vi. 385.
Perfections or abilities must not be overrated, v. 141, &c.
Persians’ behaviour at the lake Strymon, vi. 182.
Persuasion, peremptory, what it is, vi. 442.
Pharisees. See Scribes.
Philosophers, observation on their parentage, vi. 321. On their studies, 322.
Physic, a laborious study, vi. 331.
Piety. See Godliness.
Plato, how imitated by his scholars, v. 140.
Πληρόω explained, v. 22, 24.
Πνεῦμα, κατὰ, Kara, in
Possible, in
Poverty not always the lot of the righteous, vi. 413. Is always a temptation to sin, 414. Is often a direct effect of vice, and a judgment of God, 413, &c. Sometimes it is the effect of knowledge or learning, 333. See Knowledge human.
Poverty of spirit, its nature, vi. 412-425. What it is not, 412,
&c. Has an inward sense and feeling of our spiritual wants and defects, 416, &c.
Is not presumptuous of its own
Power of God irresistible, vi. 516. Can destroy both the soul and body of man in hell, v. 468.
——ministerial, when given to the Apostles, v. 32.
With power, in
Praise of God, how to be performed, vi. 339, &c.
Prayer, what it is, vi. 339, 350-355. vii. 305. Its qualifications, 306-320. Extemporary condemned, 317, &c. A particular duty in time of affliction, vi. 490, &c. When acceptable to God, 230, 359, 362. vii. 306. When not effectual, vi. 355-362.
Praying by the spirit, how prevented, vi. 355, &c. In faith, how prevented, 356, &c. With zeal, how prevented, 358, &c.
Preachings and prayings, seditious in the time of the grand rebellion, v. 64, &c.
Precepts and counsels in the word of God, how distinguished by papists, v. 891.
Predestination, v. 347. See Election, Reprobation, Spirit of God withdrawn.
Preeminence of former times unreasonable, v. 242, &c.
Presbytery, v. 54. See Episcopacy.
Presumption, its nature, v. 201. Danger, 195. Origin, 378-382. Object, 199.
——or to presume, or to commit presumptuous sins, what, vi. 378-383. The most notable presumptuous sins, v. 175-190. The danger of falling into them, 198-201. Their bad consequences, 201-208. Are most difficult to be cured, 203, &c. Most hateful to God, 205, &c.
Prevailing explained, v. 70, &c.
Pride. See Presumption, Hypocrite, Sin, Angels. Hard to be subdued, v. 43.
Princes not subject to punishment, vii. 213, 214. See Passive Obedience.
Prison, in
Proceedings of God against sinners, vi. 139. See God, Destruction.
Promise or vow, when to be made, vi. 157. Its obligation, 156, 157.
Promises of God, how to be understood, vi. 160, 161.
Prophecies mutually confirm and prove the things that fulfil them, v. 500, 501. Concerning Christ are not conclusive against Jews and sceptics, 403. vi. 309, &c.
Prosecutions, how they ought to be managed, vii. 89, &c. Ought not to be too rigorous, 112, &c. See Law.
Prosperity, of sins committed therein, v. 175-178.
Providence of God is subservient to his ordinances, vi. 144. Its method of proceeding, 528, &c. Calls us to repentance, 154. Who they are that sin against God’s providence, v. 182-185.
Provoke God, its meaning, vi. 189, 193. Its sin, 190, &c.
Punishment, by whom to be executed, vii. 19.
——inflicted by God, on whom, vii. 214. See God, Afflictions. When mistaken by men, vi. 11, &c. Why concealed, 23, &c.
——eternal. See Death eternal, Destruction.
Purgatory, a fabulous conceit, v. 7. vii. 185.
Purity of heart, vii. 153. In what it consists, 162 168. It excludes all mixture and pollution, 155. Is not content with the form of godliness, vii. 156, &c. Fits and qualifies the soul for eternal happiness, 172, &c.
Purposes of God, how to be understood, vi. 160-162. Are different from the decrees of reprobation, 163, 164. Whether they be absolute and irrevocable, 158-160. Whether they be discoverable by man, 160-166.
Rage is a contest with God, vi. 503. must be avoided, vi. 502.
Railing, vii. 14, &c.
——against the church of England, when, v. 65.
Rashness, vii. 312.
Reason differs from sense, v. 406. Unassisted cannot improve the means of grace, vi. 70, &c. Enlightened preferreth Christ and his doctrine, v. 402-405. Its power over the appetites, 349, 350.
Regenerate persons, their spirit, vi. 419. Are subject to sin, 345. Cannot plead infirmity in excuse for their sins, v. 167-170. Their sins are most displeasing to God, 169.
Regeneration, v. 168, &c. vi. 345, 418. See Repentance, Believers.
Religion, its essential design, v. 80-83, vi. 212. Necessity, v. 297-299. The only means to make us truly virtuous, 285-295. Its state before Christ, 492, &c. Not to be judged from outward behaviour, 275, 285, 286. See Form of Godliness, Hypocrite. What makes it irksome, 283. How destroyed, 106.
Remorses of conscience, whence they arise, v. 393-398. See Stings.
Repentance, what it is, v. 105. vi. 252-255. Delayed is dangerous,
v. 51, 267-271. vi. 241, 245, 256-267. And provoking to God, 268-272. Is a duty,
270, &c. Necessary to salvation, v. 99, &c. Its sincerity cannot be known by any
outward acts, vi. 292, &c. Is mistaken by the hypocrite, 458. Is the gift of God,
262, 276, 295. Early, its advantages, 266. When is the properest time for it, v.
41-47, 100-103, 250, 256, 257, 259, 264. Its measure or extent, 103-106. Whether
it be a punishment, 102, &c. It is a remedy against sin and the executive justice
of divine vengeance, vi. 269, &c.
Repenting in God, its meaning, vi. 158.
Reprobation, v. 378. vi. 139, 153, 163, 164, 190, &c. 447.
Reproof, by whom to be given, v. 114-117. How, 117-127. When dangerous, 145-149. Its end, v. 119.
Reputation, v. 430, 431, 469. See Love of God.
Resentment, vii. 98, &c.
Resignation to God’s will, vii. 301.
Resisting the Spirit. See Spirit of God.
Resolution, good, vii. 207. What is necessary for a dying penitent, vi. 279, 280. Cannot be assured to be true in a dying person, 393.
Respect, to whom due, v. 122, &c.
Rest, what it meaneth, vi. 140. To enter into rest, 139-167. In a literal sense, 140, 141. Spiritual or mystical sense, vi. 141.
Restoration of king Charles II. unexpected, vi. 197.
Resurrection of Christ was by his own power, vi. 305. Proves his Godhead, 303-306. and sonship, 306-319. Surpassed all that he said or did, ibid. Is the best argument against the Jews, 312. and infidelity, 318.
Retaliation, no doctrine of Christianity, vii. 10, &c.
Revenge, when lawful, vii. 19, 20. When unlawful, vi. 502. vii. 28, 52, &c. Is a contest with God, vi. 503.
Revile not again, explained, v. 422-428. Its difficulty, 428-431. How to be performed, 432-437.
Right, natural, its extent, vii. 224, &c. When not to be exacted, 112-118.
Righteousness, perfect, is required by God of all men, vii. 414. Why, 430, &c. What it is, 406, 420, 430. How to be measured by man, 415. Its properties, 420-430.
——of Christ imputed does not render good works needless, v. 86, &c.
——of saints cannot be imputed, v. 86, &c.
Righteousness of God, vi. 363, 364, &c.
——of the pharisees, what it was, vii. 407. Its defects, 410-418.
Saints cannot intercede for us, vii. 346-356. nor help us, 350, &c. Are ignorant of what passes in this world, 347. Why God takes them out of this world, 346, &c.
Salvation, how to be wrought out by us, v. 41-45. Its difficulty, 259-263.
Σάρκα, κατὰ, in
Satan, how he tempts to sin, v. 199, 307, 312. See Devil, Temptation.
Satisfaction for sin can be only made by Christ alone, vi. 40. vii. 250.
Saved, why few are, v. 407, 408. How, 41-45, 80.
Saul trained up for destruction, vi. 148.
Scribes and Pharisees, who they were, vii. 406, &c. The defects and insufficiency of their righteousness, vii. 410-418.
Scrupulosity an hinderance to devotion, vii. 308.
Scurrility never to be imitated, v. 432-437.
Searedness of conscience, what, vi. 151.
Security in a sinful state dangerous, and how to be cured, v. 457, 458. vi. 111, 136, 137,448-463. See Hardness of Heart, Hypocrite.
Seeing, vii. 427. Represents an object the best of all the senses, 170. Is most universally used, ib. Conveys pleasure and delight, vi. 171. Is most capacious and insatiable, ibid. &c.
Seeing God explained, vii. 169-172.
Self-denial. See Fasting, Mortification, Revile not again.
Self-love, its cause, vi. 431. Danger, v. 380. Is opposed by the gospel, vi. 417.
Self-opinion, vi. 417. See Knowledge human.
Self-preservation, vii. 66, &c.
Self-trial or examination is necessary, vi. 471, &c. vii. 312, &c.
Sense, how it differs from reason, v. 406. Its power over reason, ibid.
Service of God is a diligent pursuit of our callings, v. 38-46.
——of sin is painful and laborious, vii. 144, &c.
Shame and sorrow, how to be discerned, v. 293. vi. 426.
Silence commendable, vi. 510.
Sin, its nature, v. 191-194, 385. vii. 130, 149, &c. Cause, v. 343, 354-356. Seat, vii. 182-188. May be committed in intention, vi. 348, &c. vii. 137. Admits many degrees, vi. 470. Its danger, 470, 471. Prevents and destroys the favours of God, v. 371-378. Is always attended with misery and bitterness, 358. Is often the cause of afflictions and bodily diseases, vi. 2, 387, &c. Is always attended with sorrow, v. 394. Is often falsely charged, 344-353. Is man’s darling, vi. 342-350. vii. 189, 190. How it prevails on the affections, v. 358. Its heinousness, 385. vii. 149, &c. May be found in the regenerate, vi. 345, &c. See Regenerate Persons. Cannot be numbered, vi. 45. The greatness of its object, 48, &c. vii. 148. Its service is most toilsome, 145, &c. How to be measured, 148. Misapprehended, the cause of an hypocrite’s false hope, vi. 452, &c. Must be avoided, vii. 166. Mortified, v. 42, &c. Crucified, vii. 193-202. By what means, 203-205. How to be destroyed in man, 206, 207. Its vanity, v. 359-361. Prevents praying by the Spirit, vi. 355, &c. See Prayer. How forgiven by God, vi. 37, &c. See Christ, Forgiveness.
——original, vii. 108. See Pelagius. Whether the cause of all worldly afflictions, vi. 5.
Sin, actual, vii. 132. How it differs from original sin, 138. Is committed either in words, 133. actions, 134, 369, &c. or desires, 134. Its degrees or measure of sinfulness, 135-138.
——venial, such a distinction in sin tends to promote a bad life. v. 89-92.
——habitual, v. 188-190, 203. Cannot be hid from God, 222, &c. Its danger, 198-201. Sad consequences, 201-208. Remedy, 191-197.
——secret, is known to God, v. 224, &c.
——presumptuous, what, v. 160-167. How it differs from the sin of infirmity, 167-174. Which are the most notable sins of presumption, 175-190.
——national sins require national humiliation, vi. 397, &c.
——particular, punished with general judgments, vi. 399, &c. Are specially noted by God, 402, &c.
——against nature is most abominable, vii. 373.
——against the Holy Ghost, what, vii. 403.
——of angels more heinous than the sin of man, v. 505, &c.
Sincerity of heart is known to God, v. 231, &c. How to be tried, 412-415.
Sinners, vii. 192. Are atheists in their hearts, v. 221. Danger, 457-459. How called to repentance, vi. 155. May be justified, v. 85. When sealed up by God to destruction, vi. 142-157. How, 153-157. How this may be known, 165, 166. See Destruction, God, Spirit of God withdrawn, Unregenerate.
Slander, how to be borne with, v. 432-437.
Sleep, of what use to the afflicted,, vi. 116.
Socinians’ doctrine of redemption, vii. 194. Of Christ’s nature, v. 5-12. Of God’s knowledge, vi. 366, &c. Of going to war, vii. 23.
Socinus. See Socinians.
Sodomites, v. 364.
Solifidians, vii. 180.
Son of God, how manifested, vii. 235-238. Why, 238-248. How he destroys the works of the Devil, 248-251. Why he was troubled in spirit, vi. 112. See Christ.
Sons of perdition, how fitted to destruction, vi. 143-154. See Destruction, Sinners.
Sorrow, how increased. See Knowledge human.
——on a death-bed, its uncertainty, vi. 294, &c.
——spiritual. See Spirit wounded.
Sovereignty of God is absolute, vi. 519. See God, Sin.
Soul, how it contracts sin, vii. 182-188. Sympathizeth with the body, 188. Cannot make any improvement in virtue without the grace of God, vi. 69, &c. How known to be a vessel of God’s wrath. See Destruction, Sinners. Is immortal, v. 467. Its best state is separate from the body, vi. 481.
Spirit, unclean. See Fasting.
Spirit of holiness, in
——of truth, who, vi. 96-100. vii. 398. Its benefits to man, 399, &c. Pretences thereto, how to be tried, vi. 100.
——wounded, a discourse thereon, vi. 106-138. Its meaning, 108. When said to be wounded, 109. Who are the proper objects of this trouble, no. Its misery, v. 455. In what its great misery doth appear, vi. in 124. The signs thereof, 120, 121. How it is brought upon the soul, 124-131. Its cure, in. Why God permits it, v. 456. vi. 131-135. Is no token of God’s displeasure, 134-136. nor of a sinful state, 137, 138. Must not be derided, 136.
Spirit of God withdrawn, its sad consequences, vii. 358, 399, &c. At what time, 359-364. May be finally withdrawn, 382-397.
——of God dealeth earnestly with the hearts of men, vii. 359. May be resisted, 364-376. How, v. 185. vii. 377-382. See also, 367. Motives against resisting the Spirit, 398-404. See Grace of God, Hardness of Heart.
Star. See Magi.
Stars cannot influence man to sin, v. 347-349.
Stings of conscience, vi. 127.
Study, the hardest of all labour, vi. 329-332.
Stupidity, vi. 151.
Submission to the will of God, v. 246. vi. 487-515. Does not consist in an insensibility of afflictions, but in a patient resignation under the hand of God, 492, &c. In his understanding, 493. Will, 495. Passions and affections, 497. And in his speeches, 499-502. By abstaining from all rage and desire of revenge, 502, &c. Its worth and excellency, 506. Is hard to be obtained, 508, &c. Must be begun early, 511. Arguments for the reasonableness of this submission, 516, &c. And it is both necessary, 531, &c. prudent, 533, &c. and decent, 536.
Sufferings of Christ, vi. 112-114. How to be considered by Christians, 132. Should deter us from sin, ibid.
Supererogation is impious, v. 93.
Surprise, no excuse for presumptuous sins, v. 166, &c. vii. 135.
Suspense, how caused, v. 401.
Sware in my wrath, explained, vi. 139, 140.
Swearing, what it means, vi. 139, 140. Is dangerous, 166. See Oath.
Sycophants, vii. 108. See Flattery.
Tale-bearing, the pest of society, vii. 104-111. Must be discountenanced, ibid.
Temper, Christian, vi. 418.
——and constitution of body no excuse for sin, v. 349-353.
Temperance in meat and drink, a duty, vi. 212, &c.
Temptation, its power, v. 506. See Satan, Devil. How to be
Tempted, who are, v. 342.
Tempter. See Satan.
Themistocles, v. 279.
Theodoras Cyrenaeus, vi. 168.
Things, all, by whom they are filled, v. 22, &c.
——are known to God. See Knowledge of God, Omniscience.
——are twofold, vi. 376, &c.
Thoughts, good, their origin, v. 227. vi. 71. vii. 300, 377. Of man are evil continually, 357. Are all known to God, vi. 379, &c. Upon their goodness depends the purity of the heart, vii. 163. Sins of our thoughts by whom judged, v. 224. Are most opposite to the nature of God, 226.
Threatenings of God, vi. 161.
Time is harmless, v. 247. Precious, 50. Present, is not worse than former times, 240, &c. 243, &c. In what cases to be distinguished into good and bad, 235.
Timorousness, vii. 219.
Tongue-complaining. See Murmurings.
Tongues, the gift of, vi. 98.
Torments, eternal, v. 481. See Destruction.
Transmigration, vi. 3.
Transubstantiation, a ridiculous doctrine, v. 17.
Treasure in heaven explained, v. 392.
Trouble. See Affliction.
——for sin. See Repentance, Sorrow.
Trust in God. See Confidence towards God.
Truth, v. 73, &c. Is suitable to the mind of man, vi. 93, &c. Clears the conscience from guilt, 95. of doubt and scruples,
Valentinians, v. 499.
Ubiquity of Christ’s human nature by whom asserted, v. 18, 19.
Vegetation, v. 325-327.
Vice, v. 118, 286. How it enters into man, 356-359. Its danger, 298. Hard to be subdued, 43, &c. vi. 209, &c. Tolerated among the heathens, v. 288. vii. 244, 245. Among the Jews, 245, &c.
Violence unlawful, vii. 7, &c. See Force, War.
Virginius, vii. 69.
Virtue, in what it consists, v. 285-295, Omitted is dangerous, 357. Is necessary to salvation, 44, &c. In another must not be overrated, 141, &c. Was mistaken by the heathen, vii. 241. By the hypocrite. See Hypocrite.
Virtues of the heathens, v. 273. See Glory.
Unbelief, its danger, v. 415-418.
Uncleanness. See Adultery.
Understanding, its use and advantage, vi. 65, 493.
Unprofitableness of man to God, vi. 428, &c.
Usury, vii. 147.
Unworthiness, vii. 309, 310.
Vow, its obligation, vi. 156, 157. When to be made, ibid.
Wages of sin. See Death.
Want, considered in itself, is a curse, vi. 412. See Poverty.
War, what it is, vii. 17, &c. Its cause, ib. and 40. different kinds, 17, &c. When lawful for Christians, 17,&c. 36, &c. Whether it be lawful, made against our lawful prince, 39, &c. 229, &c. Is only to be used in the nature of a remedy, 36. Arguments against it answered, 24, &c. Scriptures against it explained, 2834.
Way,
Ways, in
Will of God, what, vi. 160.
——of man, its power, v. 348, 349, 354. vi. 84, &c. Its office, 354. Is the fountain of sin, 354 356. When truly submissive, 495, &c. How convicted, vii. 376, &c.
Wisdom of God, vi. 23, 521. vindicated, vii. 392.
——carnal, opposeth grace, vi. 75.
Wise men. See Magi.
Wish, what, vi. 172. When punishable by God, ib. See Desires.
Word of God, sinners against it, v. 181-183. Is the means by which he speaketh to man, vii. 366, &c. The danger of hearing it negligently, 367, &c. Of acting contrary thereto, 368, &c.
Words, what care should be taken of them, 13, &c.
Works, good, necessary, v. 50. vii. 409.
——of supererogation. See Supererogation.
——of the Devil, what, vii. 238, &c. How conquered, 239-248. How destroyed, 248-251.
——of grace, vi. 27, &c.
——of the Spirit, vii. 371, &c.
——of God are over all his works, v. 323-341. vi. 25, &c.
World, its beauty, v. 325, &c. State before Christ, 492. vii. 238, &c. Considered in its natural and moral perfections, v. 235. Does not grow worse by length of time, 236-239. How its delusion is removed, vii. 248, &c.
Worship, how to be performed, vi. 341, &c. 428, &c. Motives thereto, vi. 360-362. Mistaken by the heathens, vii. 240, &c. See Religion.
Wrath of God, how to be avoided, vi. 166-167. See Sware in my wrath, Anger of God. \
THE three following discourses were first published in a volume with the following title:
“Posthumous works of the late reverend Robert South, D.D. containing, Sermons on several subjects; viz. I. On the Martyrdom of King Charles I. II. Ecclesiastical Constitutions to be strictly maintained. III. The Certainty of a Judgment after this Life. IV. An Account of his Travels into Poland, with the Earl of Rochester, in the year 1674. V. Memoirs of his Life and Writings. VI. A true Copy of his last Will and Testament. London: printed for E. Curll, at the Dial and Bible against St. Dunstan’s church in Fleet-street, M.DCC.XVII. Price 5s.”
The preface to this volume, as far as it relates to the contents of the present edition, is as follows:
“It is generally expected that upon publishing the posthumous works of any author, some account should be given of them; therefore the editor of these remains of the learned Dr. South thinks himself obliged to offer the following particulars, both for the reader’s information and satisfaction.
“The letter to Dr. Pococke, from Dr. South, when in Poland, was
communicated to the gentleman
“The three sermons were given by Dr. South himself to Dr. Aldrich, late dean of Christ Church in Oxford.
“As to the first of them, that upon the 30th of January, it was
preached at court, and from some passages in it, I think it is pretty plain that
it must have been soon after the restoration of his most sacred majesty king Charles
the Second. This discourse was printed some years ago; but besides a large paragraph
which is enclosed between crotchets in the 8th page,
“The second, entitled, Ecclesiastical constitutions to be strictly maintained, has been lately published, but from so imperfect a copy, that there is not one single paragraph in it truly printed.
“The third, Upon a future judgment, was preached at St. Mary’s church in Oxford; and from a passage in it, and by the conclusion, it is apparent that it must have been composed for the anniversary of the royal martyr.”
The author’s life, including the letter to Dr. Pocock, is prefixed to the first volume of the present edition.
The first sermon is in substance the same with that printed in the third volume of the present edition, p. 415-449.
The second sermon may also be compared with p. 162-200 of the fourth volume. But the imperfect edition said in the preface to have been lately published, seems to be that, a copy of which exists in the Bodleian library, (8vo S. 239. Th.) and bears the following title:
“Comprehension and Toleration considered; in a sermon preached at the close of the last century. London: printed for A. Moore, near St. Paul’s Church-yard, MDCCXVI. Price four-pence.”
And it was so, that all that saw it said, There was no such thing done or seen from the day that the children of Israel came up from the land of Egypt unto this day: consider of it, take advice, and speak your minds.
THERE is a certain fatal pertinency in the very phrase of the
text; for when there were judges, there was no king in Israel, though, as to the
present purpose, they were judges of another nature that removed ours. We have an
account of this prodigious and horrid action, clothed with all the circumstances
of wonder and detestation, but yet well timed for its commission, it being done
when, upon the want of the regal power,
I do not profess myself either delighted or skilled in mystical interpretations, and to wiredraw the sense of the place, so as to make it speak the death of the king; as some who can interpret scripture, as if the whole book of God was only to tell things transacted in England and Scotland; so that there cannot be so much as an house fired, or a leg broken, but they can find it in Daniel or the Revelations. No, I pretend to no such skill; it is enough for me if I bring the present business and the text together, not by design, but accommodation: and as the phrase runs full and high, so I doubt not but to find such a parallel in the things themselves, that it may be a question whether of the two may have a better claim to the expression. The cause here, which was worded with so high aggravations, was an injury done to one single Levite, in the villainous rape of his concubine; the resentment of which was so great, that it engaged the rest of the tribes to revenge his quarrel with a civil war, in which the preeminence and conduct was given by God’s appointment to the royal tribe of Judah: the sceptre being most concerned to assert the privileges and revenge the injuries of the crosier. We have the Benjamites sturdily abetting what they had impiously done, and for a while victorious in villainy, by the help of God’s providence, trampling on those that fought by the warrant of his precept.
Let us now see the counterpart: he that dates the king’s murder
from the fatal blow given on the scaffold, judges like him that thinks it is the
last stroke that fells the tree; the killing of his person was only the consummation
of his murder, first begun in his prerogative. We have heard the knack of
And as this was done to our English Levites, so it was acted by
Benjamites; by so many Benjamites as raven like wolves, till by their rapine and
sacrilege they had their mess five times bigger than their brethren’s. The prosecution
of which quarrel was armed by the royal standard, and the defence of the church
managed by the defender of the faith; in which it pleased the all-wise God to cause
Judah to fall before Benjamin, the lion to be a prey to the wolf; by which fatal
trace of Providence the king being killed long before forty-five, by natural and
immediate sequel to complete the action, Charles
Now since the text says, There was no such thing ever done or seen, the proper prosecution of the words, all applied to this occasion, must be to shew wherein the strangeness of this deed consists; and since the nature of every particular action is to be learnt by reflecting upon the agent and the object, with all the retinue of circumstances that attend it, under a certain determination, I shall accordingly distribute my following discourse into these materials: I shall,
I. Consider the person who suffered.
II. Shew the preparation or introduction to his suffering.
III. Shew you the qualities of the agents who acted in it.
IV. Describe the circumstances and manner of the fact.
Lastly, Point out the destruction and grim consequences of it.
Of all which in their order.
I. He that suffered was a king, and, what is more,
Look we next on his piety and incomparable virtues, though, without
any absurdity, I may say, that his very endowments of nature were supernatural;
so pious was he, that if others had measured their obedience to him by his to God,
he had been the most absolute monarch in the world. As eminent for frequenting the
temple, as Solomon for building
And these his personal virtues shed a suitable influence upon
his government for the space of seventeen
Having thus, with an unheard of loyalty, fought against him and
conquered him, they commit him to prison; and the king himself notes, that it has
always been observed, that there is but little distance between
But, to finish this poor and imperfect description, though it is of a person so renowned, that he neither needs the best, nor can be injured by the worst; yet, in short, he was a prince whose virtues were as prodigious as his sufferings; a true father of his country, if but for this only, that he was father of such a son. And yet the most innocent of men, and best of kings, so pious and virtuous, so learned and judicious, so merciful and obliging, was rebelled against, drove out of his own house, pursued as a partridge on the mountains, like an eagle in his own dominions, inhumanly imprisoned, and for a catastrophe of all, most barbarously murdered; though in this his murder was the less woful, in that his death released him from his prison.
II. Having thus seen the person suffering, let us in the next
place see the preparations of this bloody fact; and indeed, it would be but a preposterous course, to insist only on the consequent, without taking notice of the antecedent.
It were too long to dig to the spring of this rebellion, and to lead up to the secrecies
of its first contrivance; but as David’s phrase is, upon another occasion, it was
framed and fashioned in the lowest parts of the earth, and
For their assistance they repair to the northern steel, and bring
in an unnatural, mercenary crew, that like a shoal of locusts covered the land,
such as inherited the description of those, which God brought upon his people the
Jews; a nation fierce, peeled, and scattered: and still we shall read that God punished
his people from the north; as
But to draw the premises closer to the purpose, I argue: that
which was the proper means to enable the king’s enemies to make war against him,
and upon that war to conquer, and upon that conquest to imprison, and inevitably
to put the power in the hands of those, who by that power in the end did
III. Come we now, in the third place, to shew who were the actors
in this tragic scene. When through the anger of Providence, the thriving army of
rebels had worsted justice, cleared the field, subdued all oppositions and risings,
even to the very insurrections of conscience itself; so that impunity at length
grew into reputation of piety, and success gave rebellion the varnish of religion;
that they might consummate their villainy, the gown was called in to complete the
execution of the sword; and to make Westminster-hall a place to take away lives
as well as estates, a new court was set up, and judges packed, who had no more to
do with justice, than so far forth as they deserved to be the objects of it: in
which they first begin with a confutation of the civilians’ notion of justice and
jurisdiction, it being with them no longer an act of the supreme power. Such an
inferior crew, such a mechanic rabble were they, having not so much as any arms
to shew the world,
IV. Pass we now, in the fourth place, to the circumstances
Let us now follow him
from their mock-tribunal to the place of his residence till his execution. Nothing
remains for a man condemned, and presently to leave the world, but these two things;
1st, To take leave of his friends, a thing not denied to the vilest malefactor,
which is sufficiently apparent in that it hath not been denied to themselves: yet
no entreaties from him or his royal consort could prevail with these murderers to
let her take the last farewell and commands of her dying husband. He was permitted
to take no farewell but to the world. Thus was he stript of all, even from the prerogative
of a prince, to the privilege of a malefactor. The next thing desired by all dying
Christians, is freedom to converse with God, and to prepare themselves to meet him
at his dreadful tribunal; but with an Italian cruelty to the soul as well as the
body, they debar him of this freedom also, and even solitude, his former punishment,
is now too great an enjoyment. But that they might shew themselves no less enemies
to private, than they had been to public prayers, they disturb his retirements,
and with scoffs and continual calumnies upbraid those devotions which were then
interceding for them; and I question not but fanatic fury was at that
With these preludiums is he brought to the last scene of mockeries
and cruelty, to a stage erected before his own palace; and for a greater affront
to majesty, before that part of it in which he was wont to display his royalty,
and to give audience to ambassadors, where now he could not obtain audience for
himself, in his last addresses to his abused subjects. There he receives the fatal
blow; there he dies, conquering and pardoning his enemies; and at length finds that
faithfully performed on the scaffold, which was at first promised in the parliament,
and perhaps in the same sense, that he should be a glorious king. And even this
death was the mercy of the murderers, considering what kind of death several proposed,
when they sat in council about the manner of it, even no less than to execute him
in his robes, and afterwards to drive a stake through his head and body, to stand
as a monument on his grave. In short, all kinds of death were proposed, that either
their malice could suggest, or their own guilt deserve. And would these then now
find in their hearts, or have the face to desire to live? And to plead a pardon
from the son, who thus murdered the father? I speak not only of those wretches who
openly embrued their hands in the bloody sentence, but of those more considerable
traitors who had the villainy to manage the contrivance, and yet the cunning to
disappear at the execution, and perhaps the good luck to be preferred after it.
And for those who now survive, by a mercy as incredible as their crimes, which has
left them to the soft expiation of solitude and repentance; though usually all the
professions
But to return to this blessed martyr. We have seen him murdered;
and is there any other scene of cruelty to act? Is not death the end of the murderer’s
malice, as well as of the life of him that is murdered? No, there is another and
viler instance of their implacable cruelty; in the very embalming of his body, and
taking out of his bowels, (which, had
But was there any thing in the whole book of God to warrant this
rebellion? Instead of obedience, will they sacrifice him whom they ought to obey?
Why yes: Daniel dreamed a dream, and there is also something in the Revelations
concerning a beast, and a little horn, and a fifth vial, and therefore the king ought
undoubtedly to die: but if neither you nor I can gather so much from these places,
they will tell us, it is because we are not inwardly enlightened. But others, more
knowing, but not less wicked, insist not so much on the warrant of it from scripture,
but plead providential dispensations; God’s works, it seems, must be regarded before
his words; and their Latin advocate, Mr. Milton, who, like a blind adder, has spit
so much poison on the king’s person and cause, speaks to this roundly:
Deum secuti
ducem, et impressa passim divina vestigia venerantes, viam haud obscurant, sed
illustrem,
But must we read God’s mind in his footsteps, or in his words?
This is as if, when we have a man’s handwriting, we should endeavour to take his
meaning by the measure of his foot. But still, is pleading conscience a covering
for all enormities, and an answer to all questions and accusations also? What made
them fight against, imprison, and murder their lawful sovereign? Why, conscience.
What made them extirpate the government, and pocket up the revenues of the church?
Conscience. What made them perjure themselves with contrary oaths? what made swearing
a sin, and forswearing none? what made them lay hold on God’s promises, and break
their own? Conscience. What made them sequester, persecute, and undo their brethren,
ravin their estates, and ruin their families, get into their places, and then say
they only rob the Egyptians? Why still this large capacious thing is conscience.
The poet says, Vis fieri dives, Bithynice? conscius esto; which I think may be properly
construed thus: If you would be rich, be (in their sense) conscientious. We have
lived under that model of religion, in which nothing has been counted impious but
loyalty, nor absurd but restitution. But, O blessed God, to what an height can prosperous,
audacious impiety rise! Was it not enough that men once crucified Christ, but that
there must be a generation of men who would crucify Christianity? Must he who taught
no defence but patience, allowed no armour but submission, and never warranted the
shedding any blood but his own, be now again mocked with soldiers, and vouched the
author and
V. In the fifth and last place, let us view the horridness of the fact in the fatal consequences that did attend it. Every villainy is like a great absurdity, drawing after it a numerous train of homogeneous consequences; and none ever spread itself into more than this. But I shall endeavour to reduce them all into two sorts; such as were of a civil, and such as were of a religious concern.
And first for the civil, political consequences of it; there immediately
followed a change of that government, whose praise had been proclaimed even by its
enemies. It was now shred into democracy; and the stream of government being cut
into many channels, ran thin and shallow: whereupon the subjects had many masters,
and every servant so many distinct services. But the wheel of Providence, which
they only looked at, and that even to giddiness, did not stop here; but by a fatal
vicissitude, the power and wickedness of those many were again compacted into one,
and from that one returning again into many, with several attending variations,
till at length we pitched upon one again, one beyond whom they could not go, the
ne plus ultra of all regal excellencies, as all change tends to, and at last ceases
upon its acquired perfection. Nor was the government only, but the glory of our
nation also changed; distinctions of orders confounded, the
The second sort of consequences were of religious concern. I speak
not of the contempts and rebukes lying upon the preachers of those days; for they
brought their miseries upon themselves, and had a great deal more cause to curse
their own seditious sermons, than to curse Meroz. They sounded the first trumpet
to rebellion, and like the saints, had grace to persevere in what they first began;
courting an usurper, and calling themselves his loyal and obedient subjects, never
endeavouring [enduring] so much as to think of their lawful sovereign. I speak not
therefore of these; but the great destructive consequence of this fact was, that
it left a lasting slur upon the protestant religion: Tell it not in Gath, publish
it not in the streets of Askelon, lest the daughters of the Philistines triumph,
lest the papacy laugh us to scorn. I confess the seditious writings of some who
call themselves protestants have sufficiently bespattered their religion. See Calvin
warranting the three estates to oppose their prince, 4 Instit. ch. 20. sect. 81.
See Mr. Knox’s Appeal, and in that, arguments for resisting the civil magistrate.
Read Mr. Buchanan’s discourse de jure
And thus I have traced this accursed fact through all the parts
and ingredients of it: and now, if we reflect upon the quality of the person upon
whom it was done, the condition of the persons that did it, the means, manner, and
circumstances of its transaction; I suppose it will fill up the measure and reach
the heights of the words in the text, that there was never such a thing done or
seen since
And now, having done with the first part of my text, does it not naturally engage me in the second? Must such a deed, as was never seen nor heard of, never be spoken of? or must it be stroked with smooth, mollifying expressions? Is this the way to cure the wound, by pouring oil upon those that made it? And must Absalom be therefore dealt gently with, because he was a sturdy rebel? If, as the text bids us, we consider the fact, and take advice with reason and conscience, we cannot but obey it in the following words, and speak our minds. For could Croesus’s dumb son speak upon the very attempting a murder upon his prince and father, and shall a preacher be dumb, when such an action is committed? Therefore having not yet finished my text, nor, according to the command of it, spoken all my mind, I have one thing more to propose, and with that to conclude.
Would you be willing to see this scene acted over again? To see
that restless plotting humour, that now boils and ferments in many traitors’ breasts,
once more display itself in the dismal effects of war
To whom we gave place by subjection, no, not for an hour; that the truth of the gospel might continue with you.
CHRISTIANITY having been now in the world above sixteen hundred years, there is hardly any condition that can befall the church, but may be paralleled, or at least resembled by the condition it has been in, in some place or age before. That which our church labours under at present, is the bold and restless encroachments of many amongst ourselves, upon the bishops and pastors of it.
1st, By an endeavour to cast out of our public worship some ceremonies
and usages hitherto received in it; and instead of submitting to their spiritual
governors in such matters, they insolently require of their governors to comply
with them, though contrary to their own judgment, and that also backed with truth
and reason, as well as law and authority. And then (upon their refusal to yield
to such innovators) by traducing them as persons of another religion,
Not much unlike this case of ours, we have one mentioned here,
in the church of Galatia, and that as early as the times of the apostles themselves;
in which many, both Jews and Gentiles, being converted to Christianity, a great
dispute arose, whether the Jewish customs were to be joined with the Christian profession,
and consequently, whether the converted Gentiles ought not to have been circumcised
according to the law of Moses, as well as baptized according to the religion of
Christ. The Jewish converts, who were most infinitely fond of the Mosaical rites,
even after their enrolment under Christ’s banner, fiercely contended not only for
the continuance of circumcision amongst themselves, but for obliging the proselyte
Gentiles to the same custom also. And in this their error they were the more confirmed
by the example and practice of St. Peter, the great apostle of the circumcision,
(it being the fate of the church then, as well as since, to have some of its chief
leaders betray the truth and interest of it, by unworthy and base compliances with
its enemies.) St. Peter, I say, thus judaizing in some things, and that even contrary
to his own conscience, as well as to the truth of the gospel, (for the text tells
us in the
This was the occasion of these words; in which are five particulars worth our observation.
1st, A fierce opposition made by some erroneous private Christians in the church of Galatia against St. Paul, a great apostle, and consequently of prime authority in the church of Christ.
2dly, The cause of this opposition, the violent and unreasonable
demands made to him, to confirm the
3dly, The methods taken in this opposition, viz. slandering his doctrine, and detracting from the credit and authority of his person, for withstanding these their encroaching demands.
4thly, The wholesome method made use of by the apostle in dealing with these violent encroachers; that was, not to give place to them in the least, no, not for an hour.
5thly and lastly, The end and design intended by the apostle in this his method of dealing with them, viz. the preservation of the gospel in the truth and purity of it, that those sacred truths might have their due regard among them.
The sum of all which particulars I shall connect into this one proposition, which shall be the subject of this following discourse; namely, That the best and most apostolical way to establish a church, and to secure it in a lasting continuance of the truth and purity of the gospel, is, for the governors and ministers of it not to give place at all, or yield up the least received constitution of it, to the demands or pretences of such as dissent or separate from it; all which is a plain, natural, undeniable inference from the practice of St. Paul in a case so like ours, that a liker can hardly be imagined. The prosecution of this proposition I shall endeavour to manage under the following heads.
First, I shall consider and examine the pretences alleged by dissenters for our remitting or yielding up any of our ecclesiastical constitutions.
Secondly, I shall shew you the natural consequences of such a tame resignation.
Thirdly, I shall shew what influence and efficacy a strict adherence to the constitutions of the church, and an absolute refusal to part with any of them, is likely to have upon the settlement of the church, and purity of the gospel amongst us.
But before I enter upon the discussion of any of these, I must
premise this observation, and rule of all I shall say upon this subject, viz. that
the case is altogether the same, of requiring upon the account of conscience forbearance
of practices in themselves lawful, through a pretence of their unlawfulness, and
an imposing upon the conscience practices in themselves not necessary, upon allegation
and pretence of their necessity; which latter was the case between St. Paul and
these Galatians, as the former is between our church and the sectarists. Now both
of these courses are superstitious, and equally so. For though lewdness and ignorance
have still carried the cry of superstition against our church ceremonies, yet (as
a learned prelate
This premised, I shall now enter upon the first thing proposed;
which was, to consider and examine the pretences alleged by dissenters, for the
quitting or yielding up any of the constitutions of the church. And here in a noted
discourse so acceptable to such as hate the church, and hope shortly to ruin it,
we have their chief pretences already gathered to our hands under very few heads,
viz. the infirmity, the importunity, and plausible exceptions of our sectarists:
concerning the first of which, the plea of infirmity or weakness, if it be meant
of such a weakness (as it must be, if it argues any thing) as in the
2dly, And for that other, of importunity, it is so senseless,
and withal so shameless a pretence, that it
1st, It may be taken for that which carries with it more appearance and show of reason than its opposite, in the judgment or opinion of the multitude: or,
2dly, For that which carries a greater appearance and show of reason in the judgment of the more sensible part of mankind. In either of these senses, I shall shew that it makes nothing for them, and that from the following considerations.
1st, Because there is actually a church, a greater number of persons
in the nation, that practise and conform to the use of those things now in debate
between us, than there is of those who stand off, and abstain from them. This being
so, unless we will judge those men gross hypocrites, we are bound in reason and
Christian charity to believe, that there appears to them a greater ground of reason
why
2dly, Admitting (which as they cannot prove, so neither do we grant) that there were this kind of plausibility in their exceptions brought against conformity, yet I deny that which is plausible in this sense, that it appears reasonable to the opinion and vogue of the multitude, ought to take place of that which is deemed to have greater reason for it in the sense and judgment of the more knowing, though much inferior to the other in number: which is the other sense in which I shewed the word plausible may be taken.
3dly, The third consideration is, that since the governing part of the church and state have declared for conformity, by making laws to enjoin it; and since in all governments the advantage of wisdom and knowledge, in making or changing, must in reason be presumed to be rather on the side of those that govern, than of those that are to be governed; it follows that, according to the other sense of plausibility, conformity and the reasons for it are more plausible, than the exceptions and arguments alleged against it.
4thly, The fourth and last consideration, which eradicates the
foregoing pretence, is, that the ground of passing a thing into a law, and of retaining
that law when once made, is not the plausibility of the thing
Now from these four consequences it being manifest how insignificant that pretence, taken from the plausibility of the nonconformists’ exceptions against the constitutions of our church, proves to be, since they are neither plausible, as proceeding from the wise and governing part of the nation, nor yet as from the greater or more numerous part of it; nor lastly, ought to have any control upon the laws, though they were never so plausible upon this last account: I shall pass from the plausibility to the force of the exceptions, and see whether we can meet with any strength of reason, where we have not yet found the show. And here I shall not pretend to recount them all in particular, but only take them as reducible to, and derivable from, the following three heads.
First, The unlawfulness, or,
Secondly, The inexpediency, or,
Thirdly and lastly, The smallness of the things excepted against. I shall only touch briefly upon each of them, for the compass of this discourse will allow no more.
1st, For their leading plea of the unlawfulness of our ceremonies,
grounded upon the old, baffled argument drawn from the illegality of will-worship,
and the prohibition of adding to and detracting from the
1st, That inexpedience being a word of a general, indefinite sense, and so determinable by the several fancies, humours, apprehensions, and interests of men about the same thing, so that what is judged expedient by one man is thought inexpedient by another; the judgment of the expediency or inexpediency of matters formed into laws ought in all reason to rest wholly in the legislators and governors, and consequently no private persons ought to be looked upon as competent judges of the inexpediency of that which the legislative power has once enacted and established as expedient.
2dly, I affirm also, that that which is not only in itself lawful,
but highly conducible to so great a concern of religion, as decency and order in
divine worship; and this to that degree, that without it such order and decency
could not subsist or continue; this cannot otherwise be inexpedient upon any considerable
account whatsoever. But then all these considerations of inexpediency will be abundantly
overbalanced by this one great expediency: for since the outward acts of divine
worship cannot be performed but with some circumstances and posture of body, either
3d and last exception, grounded upon the smallness of the things
excepted against; to which also my answer is twofold: (1st,) That these things being
in themselves lawful, and not only so, but also determined by sufficient authority,
the smallness is so far from being a reason why men should refuse and stand out
against the use of them, that it is an unanswerable argument why they should, without
any demur, submit and comply with authority in matters which they themselves confess
to be of no very great moment. For it ought to be a very great and weighty matter
indeed that can warrant a man in his disobedience to the injunctions of any lawful
authority; and that which is a reason why men should comply with their governors,
I am sure can be no reason why their governors should give place to them. But (2dly,)
I add further, that nothing actually enjoined by law is (or ought to be looked upon
as) small or little, as
1st, What the temper and dispositions of those men who press so much for compliances have usually been.
2dly, What the effects and consequences of such compliances or relaxations have been formerly.
And first for the temper of these men. This certainly should be
considered; and if it ought to give any force to their demands, it ought to be extremely
peaceable and impartial. But are there any qualities incident to the nature of man,
that these persons are further from? For did they treat the governors of the church
with any other appellation but that of priests of Baal, idolaters, persecuting Nimrods,
formalists, dumb dogs, proud popish prelates, haters of God and good men, &c.? I
say, is not this their usual dialect? And can we imagine that the spirit of Christianity
can suggest such language and expressions? Is it possible, that where true religion
governs in the heart, it should thus utter itself by the mouth? And to shew yet
further that this temper
2dly, What the effect and consequences of such compliances or
relaxations have been heretofore. And for this I appeal to the judgment, reading,
and experience of all, who have in any measure applied themselves to the observation
of men and things, whether they ever yet found, that any who ever pressed for indulgencies
and forbearances rested in them once granted, without proceeding any further? None
ever yet did, but used them only as an act and instrument
First, That men shall come into the national ministry full of
their covenanting rebellious principles, even keen upon their spirits, and such
as raised and carried on the late fatal war. Then it will also follow, that in the
same diocese, sometimes in the very same town, some shall use the surplice, and
others not; each shall have their parties prosecuting one another with the bitterest
hatred and animosities; some in the same church, and at the same time, shall receive
the sacrament kneeling, some standing, and others probably sitting; some shall make
use of the cross in baptism, and others shall not only not use it themselves, but
also inveigh and preach against those who do; some shall preach this part, others
that, and some none at all. And where, as in cathedrals, they cannot avoid the hearing
of it read by others, they shall come into the church when it is done, and stepping
into the pulpit, conceive a long, crude, extemporary prayer, in reproach of all
those excellent ones just offered up before. Nay, in the same cathedral you shall
see one prebend in a surplice, another in a long coat or tunic, and in performance
of the service, some standing up at the creed, the doxology, or the reading of the
gospel, others sitting, and perhaps laughing and winking upon their fellow schismatics
in contempt of those who practise the decent order of the church: and from hence
the mischief shall pass to the people, dividing them into parties and factions,
But from comprehension let us pass to toleration, that is, from
a plague within the church to a plague round about it. And is it possible for the
church to continue sound, or indeed so much as to breathe, in either of these cases?
Toleration is the very pulling up the floodgates, and breaking open the fountains
of the great deep, to pour in a deluge of wickedness, heresy, and blasphemy upon
the church. The law of God commands men to profess and practise the Christian religion;
the law of man, in this case, will bear you out, though of none, or of one of your
own choice. Therefore, an hundred different religions at least shall, with a bare
face and a high hand, bid defiance to the Christian; some of which, perhaps, shall
deny the Godhead of Christ, some the reality of his manhood, some the resurrection,
and others the torments of hell. Some shall assert the eternity of the world,
As for the church of England, whatsoever fate may attend it, this
may and must be said of it, that it is a church which claims no independent secular
power, but, like a poor orphan, exposed naked and friendless to the world, pretends
to no other help but the goodness of God, the piety of its principles, and the justice
of its own cause to maintain it. A church not born into the world with teeth and
talons, like popery and presbytery, but like a lamb, innocent and defenceless and
silent, not only under the shearer, but under the butcher too; a church which, as
it is obedient to the civil powers, without any treacherous distinctions or reserves,
so would be glad to have
3dly. I come now to the third and last thing proposed, which was to shew what influence and efficacy a strict adherence to the constitutions of the church, and an absolute refusal to part with any of them, is like to have upon the settlement of the church, and the purity of the gospel amongst us; and for this I shall point out three ways, by which it tends effectually to procure such a settlement.
First, By being the grand and most sovereign means to cause and
preserve unity in the church. The Psalmist mentions this as one of the noblest and
greatest excellencies of the Jewish church,
2dly, A strict adherence to the constitutions of the church is
a direct way to settle it, by begetting
These and the like are the principles that act and govern the
conforming puritan; who, in a word, is nothing else but ambition, avarice, and hypocrisy,
Now if there be any such here, (as I hope there are none,) however he may sooth up and flatter himself, yet when he hears of such and such of his neighbours, parishioners, or acquaintance running to conventicles, such and such turned quakers, others fallen off to popery; and lastly, when the noise of the dreadful national disturbances and dangers shall ring about his ears, let him lay his hand upon his heart and say, “It is I, that by conforming by halves, and by treacherously prevaricating with my duty, so solemnly sworn to; I, that by bringing a contempt upon the service and order of the purest and best constituted church in the world, slabbering over the one, and slighting the other, have scandalized and tossed a stumblingblock before the neighbourhood, and have been the cause of this man’s faction, that man’s quakerism, the other’s popery, and thereby have in my proportion contributed to those convulsions that now so terribly shake and threaten both church and state.” I say, let him take his share of this horrid guilt, for God and man must lay it at his door; it is the genuine result of his actions; it is his own; and will stick faster and closer to him, than to be thrown off by him like his surplice.
Thirdly and lastly, a strict adherence to the rules of the church,
without yielding to any abatement in favour of the dissenters, is the way to settle
and establish it, by possessing its enemies with an awful esteem of the conscience
and courage of the governors and ministers of it. For if the things under
1st, That the persons who thus yield them up judge them unfit to be retained; or,
2dly, That they find themselves not able to retain them. One or
both of these of necessity must be implied in such a yieldance. In the first case
then our dissenters will cry out, Where has been the conscience of our church-governors
for so many years in imposing and insisting on those things, which they themselves
now acknowledge and confess not fit to be insisted upon? And is not this at once
to own all the libellous charges and invectives which the nonconformists have been
so long pursuing our church with? Is not this to fling dirt upon the government
of it, ever since the reformation? Nay, does not the same dirt fall upon the very
reformers themselves, who first put our church into that order it is in at present,
and died for it when they had done? Such therefore as are disposed to humour these
dissenters, by giving up any of the constitutions of our church, should do well
to consider what and how much is imported by such an act; and this they shall find
to be no less than a tacit acknowledgment of the truth and justice of all those
pleas by which our adversaries have been contending for such a cession all along.
The truth is, it will do a great deal towards the removal of the charge of schism
from their doors to ours, by representing the grounds of their separation from us
hitherto lawful at the least. For the whole state of the matter between us lies
in a very little compass; that either the church of England enjoins something
Now while this is the persuasion of the governors of our church
concerning these things, the world cannot but look upon them in their unmoveable
adherence to them, as acting like men of conscience, and, which is next to it, like
men of courage. The reputation of which two qualities in our bishops will do more
to the daunting the church’s enemies, than all their concessions can do to the reconciling
of them. Courage awes an enemy, and backed with conscience, confounds him. He that
has law on his side, and resolves not to yield, takes the directest way to be yielded
to. For where an enemy sees resolution, he supposes strength; but to yield is to
confess weakness, and consequently to embolden opposition. And I believe it will
be one day found, that nothing has contributed more to make the dissenting nonconforming
party considerable, than their being thought so. It has been our courting and treating
with them, that has made them stand upon their own terms, instead of coming over
to ours. And here I shall shut up this consideration with one remark, and it is
about the council of Trent.
Now what may we gather from hence? Why surely this very naturally;
that if courage and resolution should be of such force to support a bad cause, it
cannot be of less to maintain and carry on a good one; and if this could long prop
up a rotten building, that had no foundation, why may it not only strengthen, but
even perpetuate that which has so firm an one as the church of England stands upon?
And now, to sum up all, could St. Paul find it necessary to take such a peremptory
course with those erroneous dissenters in the church of Galatia, as not to give
place to them, no, not for an hour; and is it not more necessary for us, where the
pretences for schism are less plausible, and the persons perverted by it more numerous?
Let us briefly lay
1st, By our yielding, or giving place to them, we have no rational ground to conclude we shall gain them, but rather encourage them to encroach upon us by further demands; since the experience of all governments have found concessions so far from quieting dissenters, that they have only animated them to greater and fiercer contentions.
2dly, By our yielding or giving place to them, we make the established laws (in which these men can neither prove injustice nor inexpedience) submit to them, who in duty, reason, and conscience, are bound to obey those laws.
3dly, By our yielding or giving place to them, we grant to those, who being themselves in power, never thought it reasonable to grant the same to others in the same case.
4thly, By our yielding or giving place to them, we bring a pernicious, incurable evil into the church, if it be by a comprehension; or spread a fatal contagion round about it, if it be by toleration.
5thly, By our yielding to these men in a way of comprehension, we bring those into the church who once destroyed and pulled it down as unlawful and unchristian, and never yet renounced the principles by which they did so; nor (is it to be feared) ever will.
6thly, By such a comprehension we endeavour to satisfy those persons who could never yet agree among themselves about any one thing or constitution in which they would all rest satisfied.
7thly, By indulging them this way we act partially,
8thly, By such a concession we sacrifice the constitutions of our church to the will and humour of those whom the church has no need of, neither their abilities, parts, piety, or interest, nor any thing else belonging to them considered.
9thly and lastly, By such a course we open the mouths of the Romish party against us; who will still be reproaching us for going from their church to a constitution that we ourselves now think fit to relinquish, by altering her discipline and the terms of her communion; and may justly ask us where, and in what kind of church or constitution we intend finally to fix.
These, among many more, are the reasons why we contend, that our dissenters are not to be given place to.
But after all this, may it not be asked, whether it were not better
to submit to the aforementioned inconveniences, rather than the church should be
utterly ruined? To this I answer, that the case is fallaciously put, and supposes
that if these things were submitted to, the church will not be ruined, which I deny;
and upon the foregoing grounds affirm it to be much more probable that it will.
To which I add, that of the two, it is much better that the church should be run
down by a rude violence overpowering it, than be given up by our own act and consent.
For the first can only take away
To explain which by instance: Suppose the land overrun by a foreign invasion, yet still the body of the laws of England may be said to remain entire, though the execution of them be superseded: but if they be cancelled by act of parliament, they cease to be, or to be called any longer, the laws of England. In like manner, if our church-governors and the clergy concur not to the disannulling of the canons, rules, and orders of the church, the constitution of it will still remain, though the condition of it be obscured by persecution, and perhaps disabled from shewing itself in a national body; just as it fared with it in the late rebellion: and who knows, but if force and rapine should again bring it into the same condition, the goodness of God may again give it the like resurrection: but if we surrender it up ourselves, to us it is dead, and past all recovery.
And therefore what remains now, but that we implore the continued protection of the Almighty upon a church, by such a miracle restored to us, and (all things considered) by as great a miracle preserved hitherto amongst us, that he would defeat its enemies, and increase its friends; and settle it upon such foundations of purity, peace, and order, that the gates of hell may not prevail against it.
We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in his body according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad.
BESIDES instruction and exhortation, which have never been wanting
(at least in this last age) to those of this church, there are but two ways or means
more, in the ordinary course of divine Providence, by which the reasonable creature
is to be wrought upon; I mean, by which man is either to be taken off from the forbidden
evil he is inclined to, or drawn to the commanded good he is averse from; and those
two are, the hope of a reward for one, and the fear of punishment for the other;
that those who have neither ingenuity nor gratitude, nor will be allured to piety
and obedience by the fruition of God’s mercies, may yet, out of a self-love at least,
and impatience of suffering, be frighted from disobedience and profaneness by feeling
of God’s judgments. And truly, if we of this nation had been so ingenuous and well-natured
a people as that the former of these (I mean God’s mercies) would have prevailed
with us, we had long since been inwardly the best, as we were outwardly
These words I shall not now consider (as they may be) as matter of consolation to the righteous; but only, upon this occasion, handle them in the severer sense, or that of terror only: and from these words thus considered I shall endeavour, (waving all needless criticisms,)
1st, To convince every man’s conscience that there shall be indeed such an appearance, or such a general trial or doom of all mankind after this life, as is here spoken of.
2dly, I shall try to make clear to every one of our understandings what manner of appearance, or trial, this shall be; as also before whom, and in what form of proceeding, together with the issue, effects, and consequences of it.
3dly and lastly, I will, by way of application, do my best endeavour
to work upon every man’s affections, by shewing you how much all men, (of what quality
and condition soever they are,) especially the wicked and ungodly, are concerned
in it; and consequently
First of these general heads, in which I am to convince every
man’s conscience that there shall be indeed such an appearance, or such a general
trial or doom of all mankind, after this life, as is here spoken of; neither let
any man think this purpose unnecessary or superfluous, as if it supposed a doubt,
where none was, by making a question of a principle; for though the affirmative
of this proposition (viz. that there shall be certainly such a doom or judgment
after this life) be, or ought to be, a principle undeniable, indisputable, and consequently
unquestionable, amongst such as are truly Christians, yet because, as St. Paul says
of the Jews, all are not Jews that are Jews outwardly, so may I say too, that all
are not Christians neither that are so outwardly; and because many pretend to be
of the church that hardly believe all the articles of her Creed; lastly, because
there are some amongst us that do not only live, but talk, as if they thought there
were no account to be given of their sayings or doings after this life, or at least
as if they either doubted or had forgotten this truth: for the satisfaction of all
it is therefore expedient to rescue from disbelief and contempt this fundamental
article of our Creed, viz. that Christ shall come again to judge both the quick
and the dead. For proof of this proposition against such as deny it, I desire only
this fair postulatum, the acknowledgment of that truth, which is ordinarily acquirable
by the light of nature herself, viz. that there is a God, or such a power as made
us, and observes our
1st, Because it is very agreeable to the nature of God.
2dly, Because it is also very consonant to the nature of the soul of man.
3dly, Because it is necessary for the manifestation of the divine justice.
4thly, Because the inequality and disproportion between actions and events; merits and rewards, men’s parts and their fortunes here in this life, doth seem to require and exact such a judgment.
5thly, Because there is an inbred notion, or natural instinct and apprehension in all men, that there will be such a judgment.
And 1st, The truth of this doctrine is very applicable to the
nature of God; for what can be more agreeable to the nature of the most pure and
powerful agent, than to draw and unite unto itself whatsoever is like itself, as
likewise to separate and remove from itself whatsoever is unlike itself? Now what
is like God, but that which is good? and what unliker him than evil? And what is
it to unite the one to himself, but to reward? or to separate and remove the other,
but to punish? And yet we see God neither rewards all the good, nor punishes all
the wicked in this world: there must be therefore a time hereafter, when both the
one and the other
2dly, The truth of this doctrine is very agreeable to the nature of the soul of man, because otherwise the chief agent both in good and evil should have little or no reward for the one, and little or no punishment for the other. For the principal or chief agent in all our actions (whether they be good or bad) is the soul; the body is but an organized instrument, or at most but an accessary in either. And yet all rewards and punishments appointed for good and evil by laws in this life, are bodily and sensual, at least I am sure they are finite, and mortal, and consequently no way suitable or proportionable to the spiritual, immaterial, and immortal nature of the soul. That therefore the chief agent or principal in all actions may have its reward or punishment proportionable and adequate to its own nature, it is necessary that at one time or other there should be an inquisition and judgment, whose effects, whether good or bad, may be spiritual and everlasting. Now if a judgment producing such effects cannot be here in this life, it must therefore necessarily be in another hereafter.
3dly, It is not only requisite, but necessary, that there should
be a judgment after this life for the manifestation of the divine justice: for though
whatsoever God doth is just, and that because God does it, yet does it not always
appear to be so. Now God is not only just in himself, but will appear to be so to
others, and will have his justice confessed and acknowledged, at one time or other,
by the hearts and consciences of all men. And though the Creator is not obliged
to account to the creature for the
4thly, The strange disproportion and unsuitableness betwixt actions
and events, merits and rewards, men’s parts and their fortune here in this life,
doth seem to exact, as it were, at the hands of a righteous God, that there should
be a day of an after-reckoning, to rectify this, which is in appearance so great
a disorder and confusion: and to put a real and a visible difference betwixt the
evil and the good, the holy and the profane; for now there seems to be none at all,
it being long since the observation of one of the wisest of men,
5thly, The last reason I shall make use of, to necessitate the
evidence and enforce the truth of the doctrine of a future judgment, is that inborn
and inbred notion and apprehension, which all men have by nature, that there is
such a thing, together with the general expectation of all men, that there will
be such a thing: and this reason, how slight soever it may appear to others, to
me it seems (what I hope I shall make it seem to you also) most effectual and convincing;
for whatsoever it is that all men think will be, without doubt it shall be, because
whatsoever all men agree in, is the voice of nature itself, and consequently must
be true: for the dictates of nature are stronger than the probats of reason, I mean
of reason not abstracted, but as it
2dly, Because if the knowledge we have by our instinct were not certain or infallible, this received, and as yet undoubted maxim both in natural philosophy and divinity, viz. That God and nature do nothing in vain, would not be true: for if that were not so indeed, which all men in general, and every man in particular is naturally inclined to believe to be so; then that natural impression or instinct, whereby they are inclined to think so, should be planted in them to no purpose; the affirmation of which is not only a reproach in nature, but a blasphemy against God himself; because indeed that which we call nature is but God’s ordinary method of working in and by the creature.
3dly, That the knowledge which is an effect of natural impression
or instinct is indeed certain and infallible, will easily and clearly appear, if
we but consider those creatures who have not the use of reason, or of instruction,
of revelation, of tradition, or of any other means of knowledge, (excepting that
of sense) but this of instinct or natural impression only; and yet we see, that
those irrational creatures have their knowledge more immediately, more certainly,
and more infallibly, than any man’s deductions from his own discourse and reason.
For instance, who amongst us is there that doth or can know his enemy (after the
clearest discovery he can make of him) so certainly, or avoid him so suddenly, as
the lark doth the hobby at the first sight? What sick man, nay, what physician,
knows his own disease, and the remedy for it so exactly, as the dog knows his vomit,
and that which will procure it? What husbandman knows his seasons more exactly,
or observes them more duly or punctually, than the
2dly, The dictates and impressions of nature, as they are universally
in all men, so are they originally in every man without teaching. And hence it is
that St. Paul tells us,
3dly, The dictates and impressions of nature, (in quantum et quatenus,)
or as far as they are merely from nature, receive neither addition nor diminution
(as they may do either) from other principles: as they are universally in all men
without exception, and originally in every man without instruction, so are they
equally and alike in all men without distinction, in the Gentile as well as in the
Jew, in the Barbarian as well as in the Greek, in the Pagan as well as in the Christian,
and in those that have no learning, as well as in those that have; whereas opinion,
arising from conceit of fancy, and knowledge, which is the product of human reason,
and faith itself, which is an effect of and assent to divine revelation, are all
of them stronger or weaker, more or less in their several subjects, according to
the strength, measure, and working of the several principles from whence they flow.
And consequently they are none of them equal in all men, nor any one of them equally
at all times in those that have them: but the other natural, impressive knowledge
is quite contrary; such a knowledge as this is that apprehension which all men have
or would have (if their natural impressions were not defaced in them) of a judgment
to come, or of a reward for the good, and a punishment for the wicked after this
life; for never was there any good man but hoped for it, or any wicked man but at
some time or other was afraid of it. In a word, there was never in any age in the
world, either nation in general, or any one
Second place, to inquire (as far as the light of divine revelation
will enable me) what manner of thing this judgment or last doom will be. Know then,
that the great appearance, trial, or judgment which my text speaks of, is the general
or grand assize of the whole world, held in a heavenly high court of justice by
our Saviour, to hear, examine, and finally
1st, The Judge.
2dly, The parties to be judged.
3dly, The things controverted, or for what they shall be judged.
4thly, The form of this trial, or the manner of proceeding that shall be held in it.
5thly and lastly, The sentence itself, with the issue and execution of it.
First, then, for the judge at this general and grand assize; he
must, as my text tells you, be Christ: For we must all appear before the judgment
seat of Christ; God and man, in his two capacities of Godhead and manhood connected;
for as he was our redeemer, so he is to be our judge in both his natures: he must
in the first place be our judge, as he is God; because none but God has jurisdiction
over all the parties that are to be tried at that judgment, which are angels as
well as men, princes as well as subjects, and the greatest peers as well as the
meanest peasants. Now though one creature may have jurisdiction over another, nay
over many other creatures, yet no one has or can have authority over all his fellows,
this being a royalty or prerogative of the Creator himself only. Again: Christ must
be judge, as he is God, because none but Omniscience can discern the main and principal
things that shall be there called in question, which are not words and
The second thing considerable in the description I gave you of this judgment are the parties to be judged; and those, briefly, (to speak nothing of the evil angels, who are then also to receive their full and final doom,) are all persons, of all sorts, qualities, conditions, and professions, young and old, rich and poor, high and low, one with another. For at this bar, princes have no prerogatives, the nobles have no privileges, nor the clergy exemptions and immunities, nor the lawyer any more favour than his client; the rich shall neither be regarded for their bags, nor the poor pitied for his poverty; but all indifferently shall have the same judge and the same trial, the same evidence and the same witness; and if their cases be alike, (how different soever their persons or estates may be here,) their fate shall there be the same: and thus much for the parties to be judged.
The next thing is, thirdly, the matters that shall be questioned at that trial; and those are not our actions only, but our words also, and not only our words, but our thoughts too, and not only our thoughts, but our very inclinations or dispositions themselves likewise; together with the place, time, occasion, intention, and end, for which every thing was done, thought, or spoken, and that from the first birth or instant of time, to the very last periodical minute of it.
And then, fourthly, for the manner of proceeding, there will be
no occasion for examination of witnesses or reading depositions; there will be no
allegata or probata; for every man shall be indicted and arraigned, cast or acquitted,
condemned or absolved, by the testimony of his own conscience, which shall
In which I shall now consider the fifth and last thing proposed
to this description, viz. the sentence itself, (whether of absolution or condemnation,)
the form of both which is judicially set down by Christ himself, (
Lastly: when our Advocate himself condemns us, who will be so
compassionate, or dare be so impudent as to plead for us? When, therefore, this
sentence is once pronounced, there is no more hope left either of reprieve or pardon;
of ease or intermission, of alteration or ending; but (which is the misery of miseries)
that torment which is intolerable for a moment, must last for ever: a word that
must vex and rack the understanding, puzzle and weary the imagination, distract
and confound all the powers and faculties of the soul. What pain is there, or can
there be so little, as man could be content on any consideration to endure for ever?
What man amongst us is there so poor or so covetous, as that he would be hired,
or so stout or so patient, (if he were hired,) that he could endure but the aching
of one tooth in extremity, if he hoped for no end of his pain? And yet the toothache,
the gout, the stone, and the strangury, the rack, and the wheel, with the rest of
our natural diseases or inventions of cruel ingenuity, are but as so many fleabitings,
or inconsiderable trifles, compared with the torments of the damned. All pains here
are either tolerable, or not durable; either we may suffer them, or at least shall
sink under them. But there, there I say, in hell, is acuteness of sense with acuteness
of torment, extremity of pain and extremity of feeling, insupportable anguish, and
yet ability to bear it, where the fire always burns, and yet consumes not, where
fuel is still devoured, and yet it wastes not; where, if a man had a world of earth,
he would give it all for one drop of water, and yet the whole ocean would not cool
him; where there
1st, Upon the vanity and shortness of our lives; and,
2dly, Upon the certainty and uncertainty of our deaths.
3dly, Upon the great exactness and severity of the judgment to come after death; and,
4thly, and lastly, Upon the eternity and immutability of every man’s condition in the other world, whether it be good or evil. And then, I hope, by God’s grace sanctifying these our endeavours, our condition there will be such, as we shall have no cause to desire either an end or an alteration of it.
Which God of his mercy grant us all, through the merits of his Son, and the happy conduct of his holy Spirit. Amen.
Genesis
3:15 6:3 6:3 6:5 6:5 6:6 14:14 14:15 15:1 15:16 15:16 22:18 28:16 28:17 39:9 49:10
Exodus
Numbers
Deuteronomy
Judges
1 Samuel
2 Chronicles
Job
Psalms
11:5 12:4 14:1 16:10 16:11 16:11 18:3 26:6 35:10 38:9 39:3 45:2 50:18 50:21 51:10 55:25 68:18 71:19 72:10 73:11 73:24 73:25 77:7 77:8 77:9 78:34 80:17 89:19 95:10 95:10-11 95:11 110:1 116:12 119:6 119:20 119:140 122:3 139:3 139:3 139:3 146:4
Proverbs
Ecclesiastes
1:8 3:1 5:2 7:11 7:15 8:14 9:2 10:1 11:7
Isaiah
1:5 1:21 2:4 2:4 5:4 7:14 8:21 9:6 11:1 13:21 26:9 29:13 29:21 33:14 53 53:3 53:8 57:17 60:3 63:16 63:16
Jeremiah
4:6 8:7 9:2 9:4 17:10 31:3 50:3
Ezekiel
Daniel
Hosea
Micah
Habakkuk
Zechariah
Malachi
Matthew
2:1 2:3 2:3 2:8 2:16 3 5 5 5:1-48 5:3 5:8 5:8 5:9 5:20 5:20 5:20 5:25 5:26 5:26 5:26 5:27 5:39 5:39 5:40 5:40 5:44 5:48 6 6:24 6:33 8:10 10:37 10:37 10:37 12:37 13:20 16:16 16:19 17:24 17:25 17:26 17:27 18:35 19:5 19:29 20:13 20:15 23:5 24:36 24:51 25:23 25:34 25:41 25:45 26:33 26:52 26:52
Mark
Luke
2:14 3:14 14:23 15:10 16 16:24 17:20 19:42 19:42 21
John
1:12 7:38 9:41 13:13 14:15 14:27 15:14 15:15 15:24 16:7 16:13 17:12 18:23 21:17
Acts
10:1 10:2 12:1-23 14:15 17:30 17:31 19:19 20:26 23:3 25:23
Romans
1:3 1:4 1:4 1:4 1:20 1:26-32 1:32 2:14 2:15 3:4 5:12 6:6 6:23 7:4 7:4 7:18 7:24 8:13 10:15 11:33 12:17 12:17 12:18 12:18 12:18 12:18 12:18 12:18 12:19 12:19 12:19 13 13 13:4 13:14 14:1-23 14:17 15:13 15:33
1 Corinthians
1:10 6:1 6:1 6:2-3 6:5 6:7 6:7 8:1-13 13:3 13:7 13:12 15:19 15:26
2 Corinthians
Galatians
2:5 2:12-13 2:20 3:3 5:17 5:22 5:24 5:24 6:8 6:14
Ephesians
1 Thessalonians
2 Thessalonians
1 Timothy
2 Timothy
Hebrews
4:7 4:7 4:12 6:4 6:4 6:5 6:5 6:6 6:6 11:13
James
1 Peter
2 Peter
1 John
Revelation
i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv xvi xvii xviii xix xx xxi xxii xxiii xxiv 1 27 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 219 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 395 396 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441 442 443 445 446 447 448 449 450 451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462 463 464 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475 476 477 478 479 480 481 482 483 484 485 486 487 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 495 496 497 498 499 500 501 502 503 504 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 512 513 514 515 516 517 518 519 520 521 522 523 524 525 526 527 528 529 530 531 532 533 534 535 536 537 538 539 540 541 542 543 544 545 546 547 548 549 550 551 552 553 554 555 556 557 558 559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567