EXTRACTS
FROM
THE WORKS
OF
MR. JOHN SMITH,
Some time Fellow of
Queen's College in Cambridge.
WITH
A Sermon preaches at
his funeral,
IN
AUGUST, 1652.
TO THE READER.
THE author of these discourses
was one whom I knew for many years, not only when he was Fellow of Queen's
College,. but when a student in Emmanuel College, where his early
piety and the remembering his Creator in those days of his youth, as also
his excellent improvements in the choicest parts of learning, endeared him
to many, particularly to his careful tutor, then Fellow of Emmanuel College,
afterwards Provost of King's College, Dr. Whichcote;
to whom for his directions and encouragements of him in his studies, his seasonable
provision for his support when he was a young scholar, as also upon other
considerations, our author did ever express a great and singular regard.
But besides I considered him,
(which was more) as a true servant and friend of God: and to such a one, and
what relates to such, I thought that I owed no less care and diligence. The
former title (a servant of God) is very often in Scripture given to that incomparable
person, Moses: incomparable for his philosophical accomplishments and knowledge
of nature, as also for his political wisdom, and great abilities in the conduct
of affairs; and in speaking excellent sense, strong and clear reason in any
case that was before him; for” he was mighty in words and deeds,” Acts 8:
(and of both these kinds of knowledge wherein Moses excelled, as also in the
more mysterious knowledge of the Egyptians, there are several instances and
proofs in the Pentateuch:) incomparable as well for the loveliness of his
disposition, the inward ornament and beauty of a meek and humble spirit,
as for the extraordinary amiableness of his outward person; and incomparable
for his unexampled self-denial in the midst of the greatest allurements of
this world. And from all these great accomplishments in Moses, it appears
how excellently he was qualified and enabled to answer that title, a The
servant of God,” more frequently given to him in Scripture than unto any other.
The other title (a friend of
God) is given to Abraham, the father of the faithful, an eminent exemplar
of self resignation and obedience even in trials of the greatest difficulty.
And it is given to him thrice in Scripture, 2 Chron.
20: 7, Isa. xli. 8, James 2: 23, and plainly
imphed in Gen. 18: 17,” Shall I hide from Abraham,”
&c. but expressed in the Jerusalem Targum there.
Nor is less insinuated concerning Moses, with whom God is said to have spoken,
face to face, as a man speaks unto his friend.
And how properly both these titles
were verified concerning our author, who was a faithful, hearty, and industrious
servant of God, counting it his duty and dignity, his meat and drink,
’ to do the will of his Master in heaven, from his very soul, and with
good-will, (the characters of a good servant,) and who was dearly affected
towards God, and treated by God as a friend; may appear from that account
of him in the sermon at his funeral. I might easily fill much paper, if I
should particularly recount those many excellencies
that shined forth in him: but I would study to be short. I might truly say, that he was both a righteous and a truly honest man,
and also a good man. He was a follower and imitator of God in purity and holiness,
in benignity, goodness, and love, a love enlarged as God's love is, whose
goodness overflows to all, and his” tender mercies are over all his works.”
He was a lover of our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, a lover of his Spirit
and of his life, a lover of his excellent laws and rules of holy living, a
serious practiser of his sermon on the mount, that
best sermon that ever was preached, and yet none more generally neglected
by those that call themselves Christians; though the observance of it be for
the true interest both of men's souls and of Christian states and commonwealths;
and accordingly, (as being the surest way to their true establishment,) it
is compared to the” building upon a rock,” Matt. 8: 24. To be short, he was
a Christian; not almost, but altogether; a Christian inwardly, and in good
earnest: religious he was, but without any ostentation; not so much a talking
or a disputing, puting, as a living, a doing, and
an obeying Christian; one inwardly acquainted with the simplicity and power
of godliness, but no admirer of the pharisaic forms, (though never so goodly
and specious,) which do no affect the adult and strong Christians, though
they may and do those that are unskillful and weak. For in this weak and low
state of the divided churches in Christendom, weak and slight things (especially
if they make a fair skew in the flesh, as the apostle speaks) are most esteemed;
whereas in the mean time the weightier matters of the law, the most substantial
parts of religion are passed over and disregarded by them, as being grievous
to them, and no way for their turns, no way for their corrupt interests,
worldly ease, and worldly advantages. But God's thoughts are not as their
thoughts:” The circumcision which is of the heart, and in the spirit,” is
that” whose praise is of God,” though not of men; and” that which is highly
esteemed amongst men, is an abomination in the sight of God.”
What I shall further observe
concerning the author, is only this, that he was eminent as well in those
perfections which have most of Divine worth and excellency in them, and rendered
him a truly God-like man, as in those other accomplishments of the mind, which
rendered him a very rational and learned man: and withal, in the midst of
all these great accomplishments, as eminent and exemplary in unaffected humility.
And herein he was like Moses, that servant and friend of God, who was most”
meek and lowly in heart,” (as our Lord is also said to have been, be, Matt.
11: in this, as in all other respects,
greater than Moses,)” above all the men which were upon the •face of the earth,”
Num. 12: 3. And thus he excelled others as much in humility as he did in knowledge,
in that thing which, though in a lesser degree in others, is apt to swell
them with pride and self-conceit. But Moses was humble, though he was a person
of brave parts; and, having had the advantages of a most ingenuous education,
was admirably accomplished in the choicest parts of knowledge, and” learned
in all the wisdom of the Egyptians;” whereby some of the. ancients
understood the mysterious hieroglyphically learning, natural philosophy, music,
physic, and mathematics. And for this last, (to omit the rest) how excellent
this humble man, the author, was therein, did appear to those who had the
pleasure of hearing him read the mathematical lectures in the schools for
some years. To conclude, he was a plain-hearted both friend and Christian,
one in whose spirit and mouth there was no guile; a profitable companion;
nothing of vanity and triflingness in him, as there was nothing of sourness and
stoicism. I can very well remember, when I have had private converse with
him, how pertinently and freely he would speak to any matter proposed, how
weighty, substantial, and clearly expressive of his sense his private discourses
would be, and both for matter and language much of the same importance and
value with such exercises as he studied for, and performed in public.
I have intimated some things
concerning the author; much more might be added, but it needs not, there being
already drawn a fair and lively character of him by a worthy friend, in the
sermon preached at his funeral; wherein, if some part of the character should
seem to have in it any thing of hyperbolism and strangeness, it must seem
so to such only who either were unacquainted with him, and strangers to his
worth, or else find it an hard thing not to be envious, and a difficulty to
be humble. But those that had a more inward converse with him,-knew him to
be one of those” of whom the world was not worthy,” one of”the
excellent ones in the earth;” a person truly exemplary in the temper and constitution
of his spirit, and in the well-ordered course
of his life; a life “*”, (as I remember Seneca
expresses it somewhere in his epistles,) ”all of
one color, every where like itself;” and eminent in those things that are
worthy of praise and imitation. And certainly a just representation of those
excellencies that shined in him, (as also a faithful celebration of the like
accomplishments in others,) is doing honor to God, who is wonderful in his
saints; and it may be also of great use to others, particularly for the awakening
and obliging them to an earnest endeavoring after those heights and eminent
degrees in grace and virtue, which by such examples they see to be attainable,
through the assistances which the Divine goodness is ready to afford those
souls which” press towards the mark, and reach forth to those things that
are before.” The lives and examples of men eminently holy and useful in their
generation, are ever to be valued by us as great blessings from heaven, and
to be’ considered as excellent helps to the advancement of religion in the
world: and therefore there being before us these *, (as St. Basil speaks,)
*,” living pictures, moving and active statues,” fair ideas and lively patterns
of what is most lovely and excellent; it should be our serious care that we
be riot, through an unworthy and lazy self-neglect, “Ingentium exemplorum parvi imitatores,” to use Salvian's expression; it should be our holy ambition to transcribe
their virtues and excellencies, to make their noblest and best accomplishments
our own, by a constant endeavor after the greatest resemblance of them, and
by being” followers of them as they were also of Christ,” who is the fair
and bright exemplar of all purity and holiness, the highest and most absolute
pattern of whatsoever is lovely and excellent, and makes most for the accomplishing
and perfecting of human nature.
Having observed these things
concerning the author of these discourses,, I proceed
now to observe something concerning the several discourses in this volume.
And indeed some of these observations I ought not in justice to the author
to omit: and all of them may be for the benefit of at least some readers.
The first discourse, concerning”
The true Method of attaining Divine Knowledge, and an Increase therein,” was
intended by the author as a necessary introduction to the ensuing treatises,
and therefore is the shorter; yet it contains excellent sense, and solid matter,
well beaten and compacted, and lying close together in a little room, many
very seasonable observations for this age, wherein there is so much of fruitless
notion, so little of the true Christian life and practice.
Shorter yet are the two next
tracts of Superstition and Atheism, which were also intended by the author
to prepare the way for some of the following discourses.
Yet as for the tract of superstition,
some things that are briefly intimated by the author therein, may receive
a further explication from his other discourses, more especially from the
eighth, viz. ”Of the Shortness and Vanity of a Pharisaic Righteousness; or,
an Account of the false Grounds upon which men are apt vainly to conceit themselves
to be religious.” And indeed what the author writes concerning” that more
refined, that more close and subtle superstition,” he would frequently speak
of, and that with authority and power. For being possessed of the inward life
and power of true holiness, he had a very strong and clear sense of what he
spoke, and therefore a great and just indignation (as against open and gross
irreligion, so also) against that vain-glorious, slight, and empty sanctity
of the spiritual Pharisees, who would (as our Savior speaks of the old Pharisees,
Mark 8:)” make void the commandments of God, the weightier things of religion,
the indispensable concernments of Christianity; while, instead of an inward
living righteousness and an entire obedience, they would substitute some
external observances, and a mere outward, lifeless, and slight righteousness;
and in the room of ”the new creature,” made” after God, set up some creature
of their own, made after their own image, a self-framed righteousness, not
worthy to be named with those instances of” the power of godliness,” hearty
and universal obedience, entire self-resignation, a being crucified to the
world, plucking out of the right eye, and cutting off of the right hand; mortification
of the more dear and beloved sins, and the closer tendencies and inclinations
to sin and vanity.
“Be not deceived, God is not
mocked:” God will not be put off with empty pretence arid pharisaic appearances,
(how glorious and precious soever in the eyes of
men.) God will not be flattered with goodly praises, nor
satisfied with words and notions, when the life arid practice is a real contradiction
to them. God will not be satisfied with a specious”form
of godliness,” when men under this form are ”lovers of themselves, covetous,
proud, high-minded, fierce, lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God,” and
are manifestly under the power of these and the like spiritual (if not also
fleshly,) wickednesses. For the power of sin within
can (it seems) easily agree and consist with ”the
form of godliness without.” But two such contrary powers as the power of godliness
and the power of sin, two such contrary kingdoms as the kingdom of the Spirit
and the kingdom of the flesh, which is made up of many petty and lesser principalities
of various lusts and pleasures, warring sometimes amongst themselves, but
always confederate in warring against the soul; these cannot stand together,
nor be established in one soul.
If what the author, of great
charity to the souls of men, has observed concerning these things were seriously
considered, Christianity would then recover its reputation, and appear in
its own primitive luster and native loveliness; such as shined forth in the
lives of those first and best Christians, who were Christians in good earnest,
and were distinguished from all other men in excelling and outshining them
in whatever things were” true, venerable, just, pure, lovely, and of good
report.” Then would the true power of godliness manifest itself; which signifies
infinitely more than a power to dispute with heat and vehemence about some
opinions, or to discourse volubly about some matters in religion, and in such
forms of words as are taking with the weak and unskillful more than a power
to pray without a form of words; (for this may be done by the formal and unspiritual
Christian: more than a power to deny themselves in some things that are easy
to be parted with, and do not much cross their inclinations, their self-will,
nor prejudice their dear and most beloved lusts and pleasures, their profitable
and advantageous sins: and more than a power to observe some lesser and easier
commands, or to perform an outward obedience, void of inward life and love,
and a complacency in the law of God, (of which temper our author discourses
at large.)
But I must not forget that there
remains something to be observed concerning some other treatises. And having
been so large in the last observation, I shall be shorter in the rest. And
now to proceed to the next, which is of atheism. This discourse (being but
preparatory to the ensuing tracts, is short; yet I would remind the reader,
that what is more briefly handled here, may be supplied out of the fifth discourse,
viz. “Of the Existence and Nature of God,” of which (if the former part seem
more speculative, yet) the latter containing several “Deductions and Inferences
from the Consideration of the Divine Nature and Attributes,” is less obscure
and more practical, as it clearly directs us to the best (through not much
observed,) way of glorifying God, and being made happy and blessed by a participation
and resemblance of him; and as it plainly directs a man to such apprehensions
of God as are apt and powerful to beget in him the noblest and dearest love
to God, the sweetest delight, and the most peaceful confidence in him.
I pass on to the Discourse on
Prophecy. This elaborate treatise is of a more speculative nature than any
of the rest; yet it is also useful, and contains sundry observations not
only of light and knowledge, but also of use and practice. For besides that
in this treatise several passages of “Scripture are illustrated out of Jewish
monuments, there are two chapters, (to name no more,) viz. 1: and 4: (the
longest in this treatise,) which more particularly relate to practice, and
might be (if well considered,) available to the bettering of some men's manners.
The discourse of the legal and
the evangelical Righteousness is as much practical as the former was speculative.
Nor was the composure of that treatise more painful to the author than the
elaborating of this, at least the former half of this, wherein the author
has traversed loca nullius ante tr
ita solo, the more unknown records and monuments
of Jewish authors, for the better stating the Jewish notion of the righteousness
of the law; the clearing of which in chap. 2: and 5: as also the settling
the difference between that “righteousness which is of the law,” and that
“which is of faith,” between “the old and the new covenant,” and the account
of the nature of justification and Divine acceptance, are all of them of no
small use and consequence.
Of the eighth discourse, showing
the Vanity of a Pharisaic Righteousness, I have spoken before.
The next, largely treating of
the “Excellency and Noble ness of true Religion and Holiness,” shows the author's
mind to have been not slightly tinctured and washed over with religion, but
rather to have been double-dyed, thoroughly embued
and colored with that “generogum honestum,
as the satyrist styles it, incoctunt
generosos pectus honesto.” But the author's life and actions spake
no less; and indeed there is no language so fully
expressive of a man as the language of his deeds. Those that were thoroughly
acquainted with him, knew well that there was in him (as was said of Solomon,)
a largeness and vastness of heart and understanding, so there was also in
him” a free, ingenuous, noble spirit,” most abhorrent of what was sordid and
unworthy; and this is the genuine product of religion in that soul where it
is suffered to rule, and (as St. James speaks of patience,) u to have its
perfect work.” The style in this tract may seem more sublime than in the other,
(which might be perhaps from the nature of the subject, apt to heighten expressions;)
but yet in this (as in the other tracts,) it is free from the vanity of affectation,
which a mind truly ennobled by religion cannot stoop to.
But if in this tract the style seem more magnificent, yet in the last discourse, (viz.
“Of a Christian's Conflicts and Conquests,”) it is most familiar. The matter
of it is very useful and practical. For as it more fully and clearly acquaints
a Christian with the danger and unseen methods of Satan's activity, (concerning
which the notions of many men are discovered here to be very short and imperfect,)
so it also acquaints him with such principles as are available to beget in
him the greatest courage and resolution against the day of battle, chasing
away all lazy faintheartedness and despair of victory.
The other discourses were delivered (being
college exercises,) in a way suitable to that auditory. And therefore it
may not be thought strange, if, sometimes they seem, for matter and style,
more remote from vulgar capacities. Yet even in these discourses, what is
most practical is easily intelligible by every honest-hearted Christian.
It is possible that some passages
in these tracts, which seem dubious, may, upon a patient considering them,
if the reader be unprejudiced, and of a clear mind and heart, gain his assent;
and what, upon the first reading seems obscure and less grateful, may upon
another view, and further thoughts, clear up and be thought worthy of all
acceptation. It is not with the fair representations and pictures of the mind
as with other pictures; these of the mind show best the nearer they are viewed,
and the longer the intellectual eye dwells upon them.
There is only one thing, more
which I ought not to forget, That the now-published
tracts are posthumous works; that it is likely, if the author himself had
revised them in his life-time, with an intent to present them to public view,
they would have received from his happy hand some further polishing and enlargements.
But it pleased the only wise God (in whose band our breath is,) to call for
him home” to the spirits of just men made perfect,” after he had lent him
to this unworthy world for about five and thirty years. A short life, if we
measure it by so many years; but if we consider the great ends of life, which
he fulfilled in his generation, it was not to be accounted short, but long;
and we may justly say of him, what is said by the author of the Book of Wisdom
concerning Enoch, that great exemplar of holiness, and the shortest-lived
of the patriarchs before the flood, (for he lived but 365 years, as many years
as there are days in one year,)”He being consummated in a short time, fulfilled
a long time.” For (as the same author doth well express it in some preceding
verses,)”Honorable age is not that which standeth
in length of time, nor that which is measured by number of years; but wisdom
is the gray hair unto men, and an unspotted life is old age.”
And now that this volume is finished,
through the assistance of God, the Father of lights, and the Father of mercies,
(whose rich goodness and grace in enabling me both” to will and to do,” and”
to continue patiently in so doing,” I desire humbly' to acknowledge;) now
that the several papers are brought together in this collection to their due
and proper places, (as it was said of the bones scattered in the valley, that
“they came together, bone to his bone,” Ezek. xxxvii.) what remains, but that
“the Lord of life, who gives to all things life and breath,” be, with all
earnestness, implored, that he would please to put breath into these (otherwise
dry,) bones, that they” may live;- that, besides this paper-life, (which is
all that man can give to these writings,) they may have a vital energy within
us; that the practical truths contained in these discourses may not be unto
us a” dead letter,” but” Spirit, and life;” that” He who teaches us to profit,”
would prosper these papers for the attainment of all those good ends to which
they are designed; that it would please the God of all grace to remove all
darkness and prejudice from the mind of any reader, and whatsoever would hinder
the fair reception of truth; that the reader may have an inward, practical,
and feeling knowledge of the” doctrine which is according to godliness, and
live a life worthy of that knowledge; is the prayer of
His servant in Christ Jesus,
JOHN WORTHINGTON.
Cambridge, Dec. 22, 1659.
A
DISCOURSE
CONCERNING
THE TRUE METHOD
OF ATTAINING
DIVINE KNOWLEDGE.
PSALM iii- 10.
The fear of the Lord is the beginning
of wisdom: a good understanding have all they that do his commandments.
JOHN VU. 17.
If any man will do his will, he shall know
of the doctrine, whether it be of God.
THE
TRUE METHOD
OF ATTAINING
DIVINE KNOWLEDGE,
SECT. 1:
That Divine things are to be
understood rather by a spiritual sensation than a verbal description. Sin and wickedness prejudicial to true knowledge. That purity
of heart and life, as also an ingenuous freedom of judgment, are the best
preparations for the entertainment of truth.
IT has been long since observed,
that every art and science has some certain principles upon which the whole
must depend; and he that would fully acquaint himself with the mysteries thereof,
must come furnished with some knowledge of them. Were I indeed to define Divinity,
I should rather call it a Divine life, than a Divine science; it being something
rather to be understood by a spiritual sensation, than by any verbal description,
as all things of sense and life are best known by sentient and vital faculties;
every thing is best known by that which bears a just resemblance and analogy
with it and therefore the Scripture is wont to set forth a good life as the
fundamental principle of Divine science;” Wisdom has built her an house, and
hewn out her seven pillars: “but the fear of the Lord is the beginning of
wisdom,” the foundation of the whole fabric.
We shall, therefore, as a preface
to what we shall discourse upon the heads of divinity, speak something of
this true method of knowing, which is not so much by notions as actions; as
religion itself consists not so much in words as things. They are not always
the best skilled in divinity, that are the most studied in art and science.
He that is most practical in Divine things, has the
purest. and sincerest knowledge of them. Divinity indeed is a true
efflux from the eternal light, which, like the sunbeams, does not only enlighten,
but warm and enliven; and therefore our Savior has in his beatitudes connected
purity of heart with the beatifical vision. And
as the eye cannot behold the sun, unless it be sun-like, and has the form
and resemblance of the sun drawn in it; so neither can the soul of man behold
God, unless it be God-like, has God formed in it, and be made partaker of
the Divine nature. The apostle Paul, when he would lay open the right way
of attaining Divine truth, says,” Knowledge puffeth
up, but love edifies.” The knowledge of Divinity that appears in systems
and models, is but a poor wan light, but the powerful energy of
Divine knowledge displays itself in purified souls. Here we shall find the
true -*, as the ancient philosophy speaks, the land of truth.
To seek our divinity merely in
books and writings, is” to seek the living among the dead:” we do but in vain
seek God many times in these where his truth too often is not so much enshrined
as entombed. No, seek for God within thine own soul.
He is best discerned by an intellectual touch of him. We must” see with our
eyes,, and hear
with
our, ears, and our hands must handle the Word of life.” The soul itself has
its sense, as well as the body; and therefore David, when he would teach us
how to know what the Divine goodness is, calls not for speculation but sensation,”
Taste and see how good the Lord is.” That is not the best and truest knowledge
of God which is wrought out by the labor-and sweat of the brain, but that
which is kindled within us by an heavenly warmth
in our hearts. As in the natural body it is the heat that sends up good blood
and warm spirits into the head, whereby it is best enabled to its several
functions; so that which enables us to know and understand aright the things
of God, must be a living principle of holiness within us. When the tree of
knowledge is not planted by the tree of life, and sucks not up sap from thence,
it may be as well fruitful with evil as with good, and bring forth bitter
fruit as well as sweet. If we would indeed have our knowledge thrive and flourish,
we must water the tender plants of it with holiness. When Zoroaster's scholars
asked him what they should do to get winged souls, such as might soar aloft
in the bright beams of Divine truth, he bids them have themselves” in the
waters of life.” They asking what they were, he tells them,
the” four cardinal virtues,” which are” the four rivers of Paradise.” It is but a thin, airy knowledge that is got by mere
speculation, which is ushered in by syllogisms and demonstrations; but that
which springs forth from true goodness, as Origen speaks, brings such a Divine light into the soul, as
is more clear and convincing than any demonstration. The reason why, notwithstanding
all our acute reasons and subtile disputes, truth
prevails no more in the world, is, we so often disjoin truth and goodness,
which in themselves can never be disunited; they grow both from the same root,
and live in one another. We may, as in Plato's deep pit, with faces bended
downwards, converse with sounds and shadows; but not with the life and substance
of truth, while our souls remain defiled with any vice or lusts.
These are the black Lethe lake
which drench the souls of men: he that wants true virtue in heaven's logic;
cc is blind, and cannot see afar off.” Those filthy mists that arise from
impure minds, like an atmosphere, perpetually encompass them,
that they cannot see that sun of Divine truth that shines about them,
but never shines into any unpurged souls; the darkness
comprehends it not, the foolish man understands it not. All the light and
knowledge that may seem to rise in unhallowed minds, is but like those flames
that arise from our culinary fires, that are soon quenched in their own smoke;
or like those foolish fires that do but flit to and fro upon the surface of
this earth Where they were first brought forth; and serve not so much to enlighten
as to defile us; nor to direct the wandering traveler into his way, but to
lead him farther out of it. While we lodge any vice in us, this will be perpetually
twisting itself into the thread of our finestspun
speculations; it will be continually climbing up into the bed of reason; like
the wanton ivy twisting itself about the oak, it will twine about our judgments
and understandings, till it has sucked out the life and spirit of them. I
cannot think such black oblivion would possess the minds of some as to make
them question that truth which to good men shines as bright as the sun at
noon day, had they not foully defiled their own souls with
some hellish vice or other, how fairly soever they may dissemble it. There is a benumbing spirit,
a congealing vapour that ariseth
from sin and vice, that will stupify the senses
of the soul. This is the deadly nightshade, that
derives its cold poison into the understandings of men.
Such as men themselves are, such will God himself seem to be. It is the maxim of most
wicked men, that the Deity is some way or other like themselves. Their souls
do more than whisper it, though their lips speak it not; and though their
tongues be silent, yet their lives cry it upon the
house-tops. That idea which men generally have of God is nothing else but
the picture of their own complexion: that notion of him which has the supremacy
in their minds, is only such as has, been shaped out according to some pattern
of themselves; though they may so cloak and disguise this idol of their own,
when they expose it to the view of the world, that it may seem very beautiful,
and- indeed any thing else rather than what it is. Most men (though it may
be they themselves take no great notice of it) like that dissembling monk,
are of a different judgment in the schools from what they are in their closets.
There is a double head, as well as a double heart. Men's corrupt hearts will
not suffer their conceptions of Divine things to be cast into that form that
an higher reason, which may sometime work within them, would
put them into. At best, while any inward lust is harbored in the minds of
men, it will so weaken them, that they can never bring forth any masculine
or generous knowledge. Sin and lust are always of an
hungry nature, and suck up all those vital affections of men's souls which
should feed and nourish their understandings.
What are all our most sublime
speculations of the Deity, that are not impregnated with true godliness, but
insipid things that have no taste nor life in them, that do but swell like
empty froth in the souls of men? They do not feed men's souls, but only puff
them up and fill them with pride, arrogance, contempt, and tyranny towards
those that cannot well ken their subtle curiosities: as those philosophers
that Tully complains of in his times, who made their knowledge only matter
of ostentation, never caring to square their lives by it. Such as these do
but, spider-like, take a great deal of pains to spin a worthless web out of
their own bowels, which will not keep them warm. These indeed are those silly
souls that are GQ ever learning, but never come to the knowledge of the truth.”
They may with Pharaoh’s lean kine, eat up and devour
all tongues and sciences, and yet when they have done, still remain lean and
ill-favored as they were at first. Jejune and barren speculations may be hovering
and fluttering up and down about divinity, but they cannot settle or fix themselves
upon it. They unfold the pictures of truth's garment, but they cannot behold
the lovely face of it.
We must not think that we have
attained to the right knowledge of truth, when we have broke through the outward
shell of words and phrases that house it up; or when by a logical analysis
we have found out the dependencies and coherencies of them one with another;
or when, like stout champions of it, having well guarded it with the invincible
strength of our demonstrations, we dare stand out in the face of the world,
and challenge all those that would pretend to be our rivals.
We have many grave and reverend
idolaters that worship truth only in the image of their own wits; that could
never adore it so much as they seem to do, were it any thing else but such
a form of belief as their own wandering speculations had at last met together
in, were it not that they find their own image and superscription upon it.
There is a ”knowing the truth
as it is in Jesus,” as it is in a Christ-like nature, as it is in that sweet,
mild, humble, and loving Spirit of Jesus, which spreads itself like a morning
sun upon the souls of good men, full of light and life. It profits little
to know Christ himself after the flesh; but he gives his Spirit to good men, that searches the deep things of God. There is an inward
beauty, life, and loveliness in Divine truth, which cannot be known but only
then when it is digested into life and practice. The Greek philosopher could
tell those high-soaring Gnostics, that cried out
so much, “Look upon God;”
“Without virtue and real goodness
God is but a name,” a dry and empty notion. The profane sort of men, like
those old Greeks, may make many ruptures in the walls of God's temples, and
break into the holy ground, but yet may find God no more there than they did.
Divine truth is better understood, as it unfolds itself in the purity of men's
hearts and lives, than in all those subtle niceties into which curious wits
may lay it forth.
And therefore our Savior, who
is the great Master of it, would not, while he was here on earth, draw it
up into any system, nor would his disciples after him. He would not lay it
out to us in any canons or articles of belief, not being indeed so careful
to stock and enrich the world with opinions and notions; as with true piety,
and a God-like pattern of purity, as the best way to thrive in all spiritual
understanding. His main scope was to promote an holy
life, as the best and most compendious way to a right belief. He hangs all
true acquaintance with divinity upon the doing God's will,” If any man will
do his will, be shall know the doctrine, whether it be of God.” This is that
alone which will make us, as St. Peter tells us, not” barren
nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior.”* There is
an inward sweetness in Divine truth, which no sensual mind can taste. This
is that natural man that Savors not the things of God. Corrupt passions and affections
are apt of their own nature to disturb all serene thoughts, to darken our
judgments, and warp our understandings. It was a good maxim of the old Jewish
writers, the Holy Spirit dwells not in earthly passions. Divinity is not so
well perceived by a subtle wit as by a purified sense.
Neither was the ancient philosophy
unacquainted with this method of attaining the knowledge of Divine things
and therefore Aristotle himself thought a young man unfit to meddle with morality,
till the heat of his youthful affections was moderated. And it is observed
of Pythagoras, that he had several ways to try the capacity of his scholars,
and to prove the sedateness and moral temper of their minds, before he would
entrust them with the sublimer mysteries of his
philosophy. The Platonists were herein so wary and solicitous, that. they thought the minds of men could never be purged enough
from those earthly dregs of sense and passion, in which they were so much
steeped, before they were capable of Divine metaphysics. And therefore they
so much solicited’` a separation from the body,” (as they were wont to phrase
it) in all those that would sincerely understand Divine truth; for that was
the scope of their philosophy. This was also intimated by them in their defining
philosophy to be meditation on death; aiming herein at a moral way of dying,
by loosening the soul from the body and this sensitive life; which they thought
was necessary to a right contemplation of intelligible things. Besides many
other ways they had, whereby to rise out of this dark body; *, as they were
all wont to call them, several steps and ascents out of this miry cave of
mortality, before they could set any sure footing with their intellectual
part on the land of light and immortal being.
Hence we may learn not to devote
or give up ourselves to any private opinions or dictates of men in matters
of religion. As we should not, like rigid censurers, arraign and condemn the
creeds of other men which we comply not with, before a full understanding
of them, refined not only by our own reason, but by the benign influence of
holy and mortified affection; so neither should we over-hastily subscribe
to the articles of other men. They are not always the best men that blot most
paper;. truth is not, I fear, so voluminous,
nor swells into such a mighty bulk as our books do. Those minds are not always
the most chaste that are most parturient with these learned discourses, which
too often bear upon them a foul stain of their unlawful propagation. A bitter
juice of corrupt affections may sometimes be strained into the ink of our
greatest clerks. We are not always happy in meeting with that wholesome food
which has been dressed by the cleanest hands. Some men have too bad hearts
to have good heads. They cannot be good at theory who have been so bad at the practice, as we may fear too many
of those, from whom we are apt to take the articles of our belief, have been.
Whilst we plead our right to the patrimony of our fathers, we may take too
fast possession of their errors. We can never be, well assured what our traditional
divinity is; nor can we securely addict ourselves to any sect of men. He that
will find truth, must seek it with a free judgment and a sanctified mind:
he that thus seeks, shall find; he shall live in truth, and that shall live
in him; it shall be like a stream of living waters issuing out of his own
soul; he shall drink of the waters of his own cistern, and be satisfied; he
shall every morning find this heavenly manna lying upon the top of his soul,
and be fed with it to eternal life,; he shall find satisfaction within, feeling
himself in conjunction with truth, though all the world should dispute against
him.
SECT. 2:
An Objection against this Method
of knowing, answered. Men want not so much Means of knowing what they ought
to do, as Wills to do what they know. Practical Knowledge
differs from all other Knowledge, and excels it.
And yet I grant there are some
principles of knowledge that are so deeply sunk into the souls of men, that
the impression cannot easily be obliterated. Sensual baseness doth not so
grossly sully and bemire the souls of all wicked men at first, as to make
them deny the Deity, or question the immortality of souls. Neither are the
common principles of virtue pulled up by the roots in all. The common notions
of God and virtue impressed upon the souls of men, are more clear than any
else; and if they have not more certainty, yet they have more evidence than
any geometrical demonstrations. And these are both available to prescribe
virtue to men's own souls, and to force an acknowledgment of truth from those
that oppose when they are well guided by a skilful hand. Truth needs not at
any time fly from reason, there being an eternal amity between them. Besides,
in wicked men there are sometimes distastes of vice, and flashes of love to
virtue; which are the faint strugglings of an
higher life within them, which they crucify again by their wicked sensuality.
As truth doth not always act in good men, so neither doth sense always act
in wicked men. They may sometimes have their sober fits; and a
Divine Spirit breathing upon them may then blow up some sparks of true
understanding within them; though they may soon quench them again, and rake
them up in the ashes of their own earthly thoughts.
All this, and more that might
be said, may serve to point out the way of virtue. We want not so much means
of knowing what we ought to do, as wills to do that which we know. But yet
all that knowledge which is separated from an inward acquaintance with virtue
and goodness, is of a far different nature from that which ariseth
out of a true living sense of them, which is the best discerner thereof, and
by which alone we know the true perfection, sweetness, energy, and loveliness
of them, and all that which can no more be known by a naked demonstration,
than colors can be perceived of a blind man by any definition which he can
hear of them.
And further, the clearest notions
of truth that shine in the souls of the common sort of men,
are extremely clouded, if they be not accompanied with that answerable practice
that might preserve their integrity. These tender plants may soon be spoiled
by the continual droppings of our corrupt affections upon them; they are but
of a weak and feminine nature, and so may be sooner deceived by that wily
serpent of sensuality that harbors within us.
While the soul is full of the
body, while we suffer those principles of religion to he asleep within us;
the power of an animal life will be apt to incorporate and mingle itself with
them; and that reason that is, within us becomes more and more infected with
those evil opinions that arise from our corporeal life. The more deeply our
souls dive into our bodies, the more will reason and sensuality run one into
another, and make up a most unsavory and muddy kind of knowledge. We must
therefore endeavor more and more to withdraw ourselves from these bodily things,
to set our souls as free as may be from its miserable slavery to this base
flesh. We must shut the eyes of sense, and open that brighter eye of our understandings,
and that other eye of the soul, which indeed all have, in some degree, but
few make use of it. This is the way to see clearly; the light of the Divine
Word will then begin to fall upon us, and those pure coruscations of immortal
and ever-living truth will shine out into us, and in God's own light shall
we behold him. The fruit of this knowledge will be sweet to our taste, and
pleasant to our palates, sweeter than the honey or the honeycomb. The priests
of Mercury, as Plutarch tells tis, in the eating
of their holy things, were wont to cry out,” Sweet is truth.” But how sweet
and delicious that truth is, which holy and heaven-born souls feed upon in
their mysterious converses with the Deity, who can tell but they that taste
it? When reason is raised by the mighty force of the Divine Spirit into a
converse with God, it is turned into sense. We shall then converse with God
not with a struggling and contentious reason, hotly combating with difficulties
and divers opinions, and laboring in itself, in its deductions of one thing
from another; but we shall fasten our minds upon him with such a serene understanding,
such an intellectual calmness and serenity as will present us with a blissful,
steady, and invariable sight of him.
Alan may be considered in a four
fold Capacity, in order to the Perception of Divine Things. That the best
and most excellent Knowledge of Divine Things belongs
only to the true Christian; and that it is but in its infancy while he is
in the Body.
And now, setting aside the Epicurean
herd of brutish men, who have drowned all their sober reason in sensuality,
we shall divide the rest of men into these four ranks, with respect to a four-fold
kind of knowledge.
The first whereof is that complex
and multifarious man that is made up of soul and body, as it were by a just
equality of parts and powers in each of them. The knowledge of these men is
a knowledge wherein sense and reason are so twisted together,
that they cannot easily be unraveled. Their highest reason is complying with
their senses, and both conspire together in vulgar opinion their life being
steered by nothing but opinion and imagination. Their notions of God and
religion are so entangled with the birdlime of fleshly passions and worldly
vanity, that they cannot rise up above the surface of this dark earth, or
entertain any but earthly conceptions of heavenly things. Such souls as Plato
speaks of, heavy behind, are continually pressing
down to this world's center. And though, like the spider, they may appear
sometimes moving up and down in the air, yet they do but sit in the loom,
and move in that web of their own gross fancies, which they fasten to some
earthly thing or other.
The second is, the man that thinks
not fit to view his own face in any other glass but that of reason and understanding;
that reckons upon his soul as that which was made to rule, his body as that
which was born to obey, and like an handmaid perpetually to wait upon his
higher and nobler part. And in such an one the common
principles of virtue and goodness are more clear and steady. To such an one we may allow mare clear and distinct opinions, as being
already in a method, or course of purgation, or at least fit to be initiated
into the lesser mysteries of religion. Though they may not be so well prepared
for Divine virtue, (which is an higher emanation)
yet they are not immature for human, as having the seeds of it already within
themselves, which being watered by answerable practice, may sprout up within
them.
The third is,
he whose soul is already purged by this lower sort of virtue, and so is continually
flying off from the body, and returning into himself. Such, in St.
Peter's language, are those “who have escaped the pollutions which are in
the world through lust.” To these we may attribute a lower degree of science,
their inward sense of virtue and moral goodness being far transcendent to
all mere speculative opinions of it. But if this knowledge settle here, it
may be quickly liable to corrupt. Their souls may too mach heave and swell
with the sense of their own virtue and knowledge: there may be an ill ferment
of self-love lying at the bottom, which may puff it up with pride and self-conceit.
If this knowledge he not attended with humility and a deep sense of penury
and emptiness, we may easily fall short of that true knowledge of God which
we seem to aspire after. We may carry such an image of ourselves constantly
before us, as will make us lose the clear sight of the Divinity, and be too
apt to rest in a mere rational life, without any true participation of the
Divine life, if we do not slide back by vain-glory, popularity, or such like
vices, into worldly and external. vanity.
The fourth is, the true contemplative
man, who shooting up above his own rational life, pierces into the highest
life, into the faith which works by love: who, by universal love and holy
affection, abstracting himself from himself, endeavors the nearest union with
the Divine Essence; knitting his own centre, if he have any, unto the center
of the Divine Being. To such an one we may attribute
a true Divine wisdom, powerfully displaying itself in an intellectual life.
Such a knowledge is always pregnant with Divine virtue,
which ariseth out of an happy union of souls with
God, and is nothing else but a living imitation of a God-like perfection drawn
out by a strong fervent love of it. This Divine knowledge makes us athirst
after Divine beauty, beautiful and lovely; and this Divine love and purity
reciprocally exalts Divine knowledge; both of them growing up together. Such
a life and knowledge as this peculiarly belongs to the true and sober Christian,
who lives in him who is life itself, and is enlightened by him who is the
truth itself, and is made partaker of the Divine unction, and knows all things,
as St. John speaks. This life is nothing else but God's own breath within
him, and an infant-Christ, (if I may use the expression) formed in his soul,
who is in a sense, *, the shining forth of the Father's glory. But yet we
must not mistake; this knowledge is here in its infancy; there is an higher knowledge, or an higher degree of this knowledge
that doth not, that cannot descend upon us in these earthly habitations.
Here we can see but in a glass, and that darkly too. Our own imaginative powers,
which perpetually attend the highest acts of our souls, will be breathing
a gross dew upon the pure glass of our understandings, and so sully and besmear
it, that we cannot see the image of the Divinity sincerely in it. But yet
this knowledge being a true heavenly fire kindled from God's own altar, begets
an undaunted courage in the souls of good men, and enables them to east a
holy scorn upon the poor petty trash of this life, in comparison with Divine
things, and to pity those poor, brutish Epicureans that have nothing but the
mere husks of fleshly pleasure to feed themselves with. This sight of God
makes pious souls breathe after that blessed time when” mortality shall be
swallowed up of life,” when they shall no more behold the Divinity through
those dark mediums that eclipse the blessed sight of it,
A
SHORT DISCOURSE
on
SUPERSTITION
Having now done with what we
propounded as a preface, we should come to the main heads of religion. But
before we do that, perhaps it may not be amiss to inquire into some of those
anti-deities that are set up against it; the chief' whereof are Atheism and
Superstition; which indeed seem to comprehend all kinds of apostasy and prevarication
from religion. We shall not be over-curious to pry into such foul and rotten
carcasses as these are, but rather inquire a little into the original and
immediate causes of them; because they may be nearer of kin than we ordinarily
are aware of.
And first for Superstition, (to
lay aside our vulgar notion,) it is the same with that temper of mind which
the Greeks call AEm3mtkovna; it imports ”an over-timorous
and dreadful apprehension of the Deity.” And therefore the true cause of superstition
is nothing else but a false opinion of the Deity, that
renders him dreadful and terrible, rigorous and imperious; apt to be angry,
but yet impotent, and easy to be appeased by some flattering devotions, especially
if performed with sanctimonious shows. I wish the picture of God which some
Christians have drawn of him, wherein sourness and arbitrariness appear so
much, may not too much resemble it. According to
this sense Plutarch has well defined it, ”a strong, passionate opinion, such as is productive of a
fear, terrifying a man with the representation of the gods as grievous and
hurtful to mankind.”
Such men converse not with the goodness of
God, and therefore are apt to attribute their impotent passions to him. Or,
it may be, because some secret advertisements of their consciences tell them
how unlike they themselves are to God; they are apt to be as much displeased
with him as they think he is displeased with them. They are apt to count this
Divine supremacy as but a piece of tyranny, that by its sovereign will makes
too great encroachments upon their liberties, “fearing heaven's monarchy
as a severe and churlish tyranny, from which they cannot absolve themselves,”
as the same author speaks and therefore be thus discloses the private whisperings
of their minds.” The broad gates of hell are opened, the rivers of fire and
Stygian inundations run down as a swelling flood; there is thick darkness
crowded together; dreadful and ghastly sights of ghosts screeching and howling;
judges and tormentors; deep gulfs full of infinite miseries.” The prophet
Isaiah gives us this epitome of their thoughts, ch.
xxxiii. 14,”The sinners in Zion are afraid, fearfullness
has surprised the hypocrites: who shall dwell with the devouring fire? Who
shall dwell with everlasting burnings?” Though I should not dislike these
astonishing thoughts of future torment, which I doubt even good men may have
cause to press home upon their own spirits, the more to restrain sin; yet
I think it little commends God, and as little benefits us, to fetch all this
horror and astonishment from the contemplations of a Deity, which should
always be the most serene and lovely. Our apprehensions of the Deity should
be such as might ennoble our spirits, and not debase them. A right knowledge
of God should beget a freedom and liberty of soul within us, and not servility;
our thoughts of a Deity should breed in us hopes of virtue, and not gender
to a spirit of bondage.
But that we may pass on. Because
this unnatural resemblance of God as an angry Deity, should it blaze too
furiously, like the basilisk, would kill with its looks therefore these painters
use their best arts to render less unpleasing. And those that fancy God to
be most apt to be displeased, yet are ready to imagine him so- impotently
mutable, that his favour may he won again with their
uncouth devotions, that he will be taken with their
formal praises. And therefore superstition will always abound in these things,
whereby this Deity, made after the similitude of men, may be most gratified,
slavishly crouching to it. We shall take a view of it in the words of Plutarch,
though what refers to the Jews may seem to contain too hasty a censure of
them.” Superstition brings in wallowing in the dust, tumbling in the mire,
observations of, uncouth gestures, and strange rites of worship.” Superstition
is very apt to think that heaven may be bribed with such falsehearted
devotions; as Porphyry has well explained it by this, that it is” an apprehension
that a man may corrupt and bribe the Deity:” which (as he before observes,)
was the cause of all those bloody sacrifices among the heathen; like him the
prophet, that thought by the fruit of his body, and the firstlings of his
flock to expiate the sin of his soul. Micah 6:
It is true, superstition looks
not so foul in every soul that is dyed with it; nor doth it every where spread
itself alike: but it will variously discover itself as it is
seated in minds of a various temper, and meets with variety of matter to exercise
itself about. We shall therefore a little further inquire into it, and what
the judgments of the soberest men anciently were of it; the rather, for that
a learned author of our own seems unwilling to own that notion of it which
we have hitherto contended for; who, though he has freed it from that gloss
which the late ages have put upon it, yet may seem to have too strictly confined
it to a cowardly worship of the gentile daemons, as if superstition and polytheism
were indeed the same thing; whereas polytheism, or daemon worship, is but
one branch of it.
That we may the more fully unfold
the nature and effects of it, which are not always of one sort, we shall first
premise something concerning the rise of it. The common notions of a Deity,
strongly rooted in men's souls, and meeting with the apprehension of guilt,
are very apt to excite this servile fear. And when men love their own filthy
lusts, that they may spare them, they are presently apt to contrive some other
ways of appeasing the Deity and compounding with him. Minds, that have no
inward foundation of true holiness, are easily shaken from all inward peace
and tranquility. And as the thoughts of some Supreme Power seize upon them,
so they are struck into inward at frightments, which are further increased by a vulgar observation
of those strange and terrifying effects in nature, whereof they can give no
certain reason, as earthquakes, thundering, and lightning, comets, and meteors,
which are apt to terrify those especially who are unsettled and chased with
an inward sense of guilt. Petronius Arbiter has
well described this: From hence it was that the Libri
Fulgulares of the Romans, and other such like volumes
of superstition, swelled so much, as will easily appear to any one a little
conversant in Livy; who every where sets forth this
devotion so largely, as if he himself had been passionately in love with it.
And though as the events in nature
began to be found out better by a discovery of their natural causes, some
particular superstitious customs were antiquated, yet often affrights and
horrors were not so easily abated, while they were unacquainted with the Deity,
and with the other mysterious events in nature. To which we may add frequent
spectres and frightful apparitions. All which extorted such
a kind of worship from them as was most correspondent to such causes of it.
Arid those rites and ceremonies which were begotten by superstition, were
again the unhappy nurses of it; described by Plutarch,” Observations of unlucky
and fatal days, lacerations, howlings, and many
times filthy speeches,” and frantic behavior, But, as-we insinuated before,
this root of superstition diversely branched forth itself, sometimes into
magic and exorcisms, at other times into pedantically rites and idle observations
of things and times. In others it displayed itself in inventing as many new
deities as there were several causes from whence their affrights proceeded.
Arid hence it is that we hear of those inhuman and diabolical sacrifices frequent
among the heathens, and of those dead men's bones which were found in their
temples at the demolishing of them. Sometimes it would express itself in a
prodigal way of sacrificing, for which Ammianus
Marcellinus, (an heathen writer,
but yet one who seems to have been well pleased with the simplicity of Christian
religion,) taxeth Julian the emperor. Many other
ways might be named wherein superstition might occasionally show itself.
All which may be best understood, if we consider it as a composition of fear and flattery.
Flattery is most incident to base and slavish minds;
and where the fear of a Deity disturbs the filthy pleasure of vice, there
this fawning and crouching disposition will find out devices to quiet an angry
conscience within, and an offended God without. This the
ancient philosophy has well taken notice of. Thus Maximus
Tyrius,”The pious man is God's friend, the superstitious
is a flatterer. of God. And most happy is the condition
of the pious man, God's friend; but miserable is the state of the superstitious.
The pious man, emboldened by a good conscience, and encouraged by the sense
of his integrity, comes to God without fear and dread. But the superstitious
being sunk through the sense of his own wickedness,
comes not without much fear, being void of all hope and confidence, and dreading
the gods as so many tyrants.” Thus Plato also sets forth this superstitious
temper, where he distinguisheth three kinds of
tempers in reference to the Deity; total atheism, which, he says, never abides
with any man till his old age; partial atheism, which is a negation of Providence;
and a third, which is a persuasion that the
gods” are easily won by sacrifices and prayers;”
which he after explains, thus,” that with gifts unjust men may find acceptance
with them.”
All this while I would not be
understood to condemn, too severely, all servile fear of God, if it tend to make men avoid true wickedness, but that which settles
upon these lees of formality.
To conclude: Were I to define
superstition more generally, according to the ancient sense of it, I would
call it” Such an apprehension of God as renders him grievous and burdensome,
and so destroys all free and cheerful converse with him; begetting in the
stead thereof a forced devotion, void of inward life and, love.” It is that
which discovers itself in the worship of the Deity, in any thing that makes
up only the body, or outward vesture of religion; and because it comprehends
not the true Divine good, that ariseth to the soul
from an internal frame of religion, it is therefore apt to think all its insipid
devotions are so many presents offered to the Deity. How variously superstition
can discover itself, we have intimated before. To which I shall only add,
that we are not rid of superstition, as some imagine, when they have expelled
it out of their churches, expunged it out of their books and writings, or
cast it out of their tongues, by making innovations in their names. No; for
all this, superstition may enter into our chambers, and creep into our closets,
it may twine about our secret devotions, and actuate our forms of belief,
when it has no place else to shroud itself in; we may think to flatter the
Deity by these, when we are grown weary of more pompous solemnities. Nay,
it may mix itself with a seeming faith in Christ; as I doubt it doth now in
too many; who, laying aside all sober and serious care of true piety, think
it sufficient to offer up their Savior, his active and passive righteousness,
to a severe and rigid justice, to make expiation for those sins they allow
themselves in.
