EXTRACTS
FROM
THE WORKS
OF
ROBERT BOLTON, B.D.

Some time Fellow of Brazen Nose College, in Oxford; and Vector
of Broughton, in Northamptonshire.

THE
LIFE AND DEATH
OF
MR. BOLTON.

 

            MR. ROBERT BOLTON was born at Blackburn, a town in Lancashire, on Whitsunday, in the year 1572. His parents finding in him a strong propensity for learning, put him to a schoolmaster that was in the town. And he plied his book so well, that in a short time he became the best scholar in the school.

            About the twentieth year of his age, he was placed at Oxford, in Lincoln College, under the tuition of Mr. Randall, a man of no great note then; but afterward an eminent preacher at London. In that college he kept close to the studies of logic and philosophy; and by reason of that ground-work of learning he received at school, he quickly got the start of those of his own time, and grew into fame in that house. In the midst of these his studies, his father died, and then his means failed. But this cross, by God's providence, proved a great ad-vantage to him for his growth in learning; for now, wanting means to buy him books, he borrowed of his tutor and others, the best writers on natural and moral philosophy, read them over, abridged them in his note-books, and then returned the books to the owners. Nay, such a desire he had to attain perfection in the things he studied, that though he was well skilled in the Greek tongue, yet, that he might attain exactness in it, he wrote out with his own hand, all Homer, in a fair Greek cha­racter; for he wrote that language better than he did either English or Latin. This brought him to such a readiness, that he could with as much facility, discourse in the public schools, (for he was a famous disputant,) in the Greek tongue, as in the Latin or English: and in them all, he wrote and spoke in a high and lofty style, which was so familiar to him, that he could not avoid it in ordinary conversation.

From Lincoln College he removed to Brazen Nose: for, by the founders of that house, most of the fellowships therein were for Lancashire and Cheshire men; but having but few friends, he staid long without a fellowship, till about the thirtieth year of his age; at which time he commenced Master of Arts; and then, by the exercises he performed in the house and abroad, being Regent-Master, he grew into fame, and was successively chosen to be reader of the lectures of Logic, and moral and natural philosophy, (as by the statutes of the house they were appointed to be read); which he performed so strictly, and with such exactness, as that he got applause with the best, though envy with his successors. Such was his esteem in the university for his public disputa­tions, that when he was a Master of Arts but of small standing, he was chosen, by the then Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, vice-chancellor, at King James's first coming to that university, to be one of the disputants before the king. Besides his knowledge in logic and philosophy, he was also well studied in metaphysics and mathematics, and in all school-divinity; especially in Thomas Aquinas, which he had read over once or twice, and exactly noted him throughout.

            But all this while, though he was very learned, he was a very mean scholar in the school of CHRIST. He loved stage-plays, cards, and dice; he was a horrible swearer and sabbath-breaker, and was ever glad, (as he has been heard to say,) of CHRISTmas holidays, and melancholy when they were ended. He loved not goodness nor good men; and of all sorts of company could least abide such as were of a strict and holy conversation. Such he would brand with the name of Puritans, thinking, thereby he had deprived them ipso facto both of learning and reli­gion. This wretched humor Mr. Bolton further dis­covered at Cambridge; for being there at a Commence­ment, and induced by the fame of Mr. Perkins, he went to hear him preach; whose plain preaching, meeting at once in him with a curious palate and unsanctified heart, quite turned his stomach against that good man, so that he thought him, (to speak in his own phrase,) " a barren, empty fellow, and a passing mean scholar." But when God changed his heart, he changed his opinions of Mr. Perkins, and thought him as learned a divine as our church had for many years enjoyed.

The manner of his conversion was thus. When he was of Brazen Nose College, he had familiar acquaintance with one Mr. Anderton, his countryman, and sometime his schoolfellow, a very good scholar, but a strong papist. This man being become a popish priest, well knowing the good parts that were in Mr. Bolton, and perceiving that he was in some outward wants, took this advantage, and used many arguments to persuade him to be reconciled to the church of Rome, and to go over with him to the English seminary; telling him he should be furnished with all necessaries, and should have gold enough, one of the best, arguments to allure an unstable mind to popery. Mr. Bolton, being at that time poor in mind and purse, accepted of the motion, and a day and place was ap­pointed in Lancashire, where they should meet, and from thence take shipping. Mr. Bolton met at the day and place, but Mr. Anderton came not, and so he escaped that snare, and soon after returned to Brazen Nose; where falling into the acquaintance of one Mr. Peacock, fellow of that house, a learned and godly man, it pleased GOD, by his acquaintance, to work in his soul true re­pentance and conversion to God.

            The first news he heard of God was not by a soft and still voice, but in terrible tempests and thunder. " The Lord running upon him as a giant, taking him by the neck, and shaking him to pieces;" beating him to the ground, as he did Paul, by laying before him the ugly visage of his sins, which lay so heavy upon him, that he roared for grief of heart, and so affrighted him, that he rose out of bed in the night for very anguish of spirit. And to augment his misery, he was exercised with foul temptations,  horribilia de Deo, terribilia de fide, which Luther called, " The buffeting of SATAN;" for he was parallel with Luther in many things; and especially in these spiritual temptations, which were so vehement upon Luther, that the very venom of them drank up his spirits, and his body seemed dead, that neither speech, sense, blood, nor heat appeared in him, as Justus Jonas, who was present and saw it, reporteth of him. This sharp fit of Luther's lasted but for one clay, but Mr. Bolton's con­tinued for many months; yet God gave him, at length, a blessed issue, and these grievous pangs in his spiritual birth produced two admirable effects in him, (as well as in Luther,) which many times ensue upon such hard labor. 1. An invincible courage and resolution for the cause of GOD, in which he feared no colors, nor the face or force of any. 2. A singular dexterity in com­forting afflicted spirits.

            Upon this, he resolved to enter into the ministry, and about the 35th year of his age, he was ordained minister; after which he wholly applied himself to the work of the ministry, and improved all his learning and time to that excellent end. A little while after he was ordained he was made known to Mr. Justice Nichols, at that time sergeant at law, who observing the comeliness of his person and the learning that was in him, had it always in his thoughts to advance him. About the 37th year of Mr. Bolton's age, the parsonage of Broughton, in Northamptonshire, becoming void, he sent for him from the university to his chambers at Sergeant's-Inn, and presented him to that living. Then he published his first book, A Discourse on True Happiness, which he dedi­cated to Sergeant Nichols, his patron.

            About the 4Oth year of his age, for the better settling of himself in house-keeping upon his parsonage, he re-solved upon marriage, and took to wife Mrs. Anne Boyce, to whose care he committed the ordering of his outward estate, he himself only minding the weighty affairs of his heavenly calling. Twice every Lord's-day he preached, and catechized in the afternoon; and upon every holiday, and on every Friday, before the sacrament, he expounded a chapter. In all his preaching he still aimed at the conversion of souls, the glory of a good minister; and herein God highly honored his ministry, in making him to beget many sons and daughters unto righteousness; for many hundreds were either converted, or mightily confirmed, or singularly comforted by his ministry. He had such an art in relieving afflicted con-sciences, that he was sought to far and near; and many from beyond the seas desired his resolution in divers cases of conscience, which was the only cause that made him put forth that learned and godly treatise, Instructions for a right comforting afflicted Consciences.

            And though in his manner of preaching he was a son of thunder, yet unto those that mourned in spirit, he was a son of consolation, and with a tender heart poured the oil of mercy. into their bleeding wounds. He, (as was said of Luther,) was a mighty enemy to the devil's kingdom, and had a singular skill to discern his sleights, and that cunning craftiness whereby he lies in wait to deceive. He ever thought that there was no such way to cast down the strong holds of SATAN, as to lay the ax to the root of sin. And in all his sermons, he ever used to discover the filthiness of sin, and to press very power-fully upon men's consciences the duties of sanctification; in expression whereof three things were remarkable in him:

            1. Such courage and resolution of spirit as is scarcely to be found in any; whereby he gave such vigor unto the-truth he delivered, that it pierced the very joints and marrow.

            2. Impartiality; the would spare none in their sins,either great or small. He knew he was to deliver his Master's will, with whom was no respect of persons.

            3. His wisdom; as he was of high courage, so was it excellently tempered with wisdom, descried in these four things. 1. In all his denunciations against sin, he never personated any man, whereby to put him to shame, unless his own inward guiltiness caused him to apply it to himself. 2. He would never press upon the con-science the guilt of sin, but the would defend what he advanced by Scripture, by the ancient fathers, and the concurrence of the most renowned and orthodox writers, to stop the mouths of all slanderers that should accuse his doctrine either of novelty, or of too much precise­ness. 3. When he had searched the conscience to the quick, he ever offered CHRIST in all his beauty and sweet­ness. 4. He would always protest unto his people, that it was a trouble to him to preach against their sins; the delighted not to vex any of their consciences; he should be glad the case were so with them, that he might only preach the riches of God's mercies in CHRIST all his days; but he knew no other way to pull them out of the snare of SATAN, than the way he took.

            That which made his preaching more illustrious, was the burning and shining light, which appeared in his life and conversation, in these five particulars:

            1. His piety, whereof I need not say much; The Directions for Walking with GOD, were framed out of the meditations of his own heart, as a guide for himself, for ordering his steps in the ways of righteousness; which he strictly observed throughout the course of his life. And no marvel if he attained to such a height of holiness, when he was lifted up thither by the wings of prayer. His constant course was to pray six times

day, twice by himself, twice with his family, and twice with his wife. Besides, he observed many days of private humiliation and prayer, ever before the receiving of the communion, and many days besides, for the miseries of the churches in France and Germany, which he performed with such ardency of spirit, that (as was said of Martin Luther,) " He used such humility, as in the presence of Almighty God; but such fervency and faith, as if he had been talking with his friend." And God heard his prayers; for, to the comfort of his soul, a little before his death, he heard of the mighty victories obtained by the King of Sweden against the emperor.

            2. For his gravity, he was of a very comely presence. He had a countenance that commanded respect; inso­much that many forbore to speak or act unseemly things in his presence, who would not have been so modest in other company. Such a majesty does grace imprint upon the countenances of holy men, that they draw respect from the greatest.

            3. He was very zealous for GOD, not only in his ministry, but in any public or private good, that tended to the honor of God; to whose glory he wholly sacri­ficed himself and all his studies; which I can the more safely affirm, in that I know he divers times refused pre-ferment from some of the nobility and prelates of this kingdom; and for no other cause, but that he might not be divorced from that country, where his ministry wrought such good effects.

            4. But the zeal of this pious man was always tempered with singular wisdom and discretion: for though in all his sermons he pressed mightily upon the consciences of his hearers; yet they were never able to resist the authority by which he spoke; so that for the space oftwenty-two years, the whole time that his light shined in Northamptonshire, his doctrine was never drawn into question. So studious was he ever of the unity and peace of the Church of England, which he dearly loved, that none could justly quarrel with him but Papists and other sectaries, or men of notoriously evil lives.

            5. Lastly, for his charity, he was ever universally boun­tiful; but he exceeded in those public distresses of Germany, France, Bohemia, and to those that stood in true need. He spent every year all the revenues of his parsonage (which was of good value,) in the maintenance of his family, and acts of hospitality; and also gave away yearly, in other charities, the temporal estate he had. The town of Broughton will ever have cause to bless God for his charity: for when that lamentable fire was among them, September 21, in the year 1626, besides the many pounds he spent out of his own purse, he was a chief means that by the only supply of the country, without any letters patent from above, their houses, which were burnt down to the ground, were all new built, and their outward estates restored.

This inestimable treasure it pleased God to put in an’ earthen vessel, and about the beginning of September last he began to break it, by visiting him with a quartan ague; a disease which brought Calvin to his end; and by the judgment of the best physicians, is ever deemed mortal unto old men. Perceiving, after two or three fits, that it mastered his strength, he called for his will, which he had made long before, and perfecting some things in it, he caused it to be laid up, and afterwards wholly retired into himself, quitting the world, and solacing his soul with the meditation of the joys `of heaven, which he had provided to preach to his people: for having compiled an elaborate discourse on the four last things, death, judgment, hell, and heaven, and having finished the three former, he told them, that the next day he would treat of heaven; but the day before, being Satur­day, he was visited with sickness, and never preached after. God then preparing him for the fruition of those inexplicable joys which he had provided for his people in contemplation.           

            Though his sickness was long and sharp, yet he bore it with admirable patience, for he saw him that is invisible; and his whole delight was to be with him, often breath­ing out such speeches as these, when his fits gave him any intermission: " Oh! when will this good hour come? When shall I be dissolved? When shall I be with CHRIST?" Being told that it was indeed better for him to be dis­solved, but the church of God could not but miss him, and the benefit of his ministry; he replied, "If I shall find favor in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring me again, and show me both it and his habitation; but if otherwise, to! here I am, let him do what seems good in his eye." Being asked by another, whether he could not be content to live, if God would grant him life? He answered, "I grant that life is a great blessing of GOD, neither will I neglect any means that may preserve it, and do heartily desire to submit to God's will; bust of the two, I infinitely desire to be dissolved and to be with CHRIST."

In the time of his sickness, there came many to visit him, but he admitted none but his intimate friends; using a speech of St. Augustine, who desired, ten days before he died, none might come to him, that he in that time might the better fit himself for GOD, But to those that carne, he gave very wise exhortations adapted to their callings and conditions; for although his body was wasted, yet his understanding and memory were as active and quick as in the time of his health.

            He encouraged the ministers that came to him to be diligent and courageous in the work of the Lord, and not to let their spirits faint or droop for any affliction that should arise thereupon. All that came to him he bade make sure of CHRIST before they came to die. He thanked God for his wonderful mercy in pulling him out of hell, in sealing his ministry with the conversion of many souls, which he wholly ascribed to his glory.

            About a week before he died, when his silver cord began to loosen, and his golden bowl to break, he called for his wife, and desired her to bear his dissolution with a Christian fortitude, and make no doubt but she should meet him again in heaven. And turning towards his children, (one son and four daughters,) he told them, that they should not expect he could now say any thing to them, neither would his ability of body give him leave; he had told them enough in the time of his sickness, and before, and hoped they would remember it; and verily believed, " that none of them durst think to meet him at that great tribunal in an unregenerate state."

            About two days after, divers of his parish coming to watch with him, he was moved by a friend that, as he had discovered to them by his doctrine, the exceeding comforts- that were in CHRIST, he would now tell them what he felt in his soul. " Alas, (said he,) do they look for that of me now, who want breath and power to speak? I have told them enough in my ministry; but yet, to give you satisfaction, I am, by the wonderful mercies of GOD, as full of comfort as my heart can hold, and feel nothing in my soul but CHRIST; with whom I heartily desire to be." And then, looking upon some that were weeping, said, " Oh, what a deal ado there is before one can die!"

            The night before he died, when the doors without began to be shut, and the daughters of music to be brought low, and he lying very low with his head, expecting every moment when the wheel should. be broken at the cistern, yet being told that some of his dear friends were then about him, to take their last farewell, he caused himself to be lifted up, and then, like old Jacob, bowing himself on his bed's head, after a few gaspings for breath, he spoke in this manner, "I am now drawing on apace to my dissolution. Hold out, faith and patience, your work will speedily be at. an end." And then, shaking them all by the hands, prayed heartily and particularly for them, and desired them "to make sure of heaven, and to bear in mind what he had formerly told them in his ministry; protesting to them, that the doctrine which he had preached to them for the space of twenty years, was time truth of GOD, as he should answer it at the tribunal of CHRIST, before whom he should shortly appear." This he spoke when the very pangs of death were upon him. Whereupon a dear friend of his, taking him by the hand, and asking him if he felt not much pain? "Truly no, (said he,) the greatest I feel is your cold hand." And then, speaking to be laid down again, he spoke no more till the next morning, when he took his last leave of his wife and children, prayed for them, and blessed them all; and that day, in the afternoon., about five o'clock, being Saturday, the ljth day of December, 1631, in the 6Oth year of his age, he yielded up his spirit to GOD, and, according to his own speech, celebrated the ensuing Sabbath in the kingdom of heaven.

 

A

DISCOURSE

OF

TRUE HAPPINESS.

PSALM 1

 

            1. Blessed is the man that does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, nor stand in the way of sinners, nor sit in the seat of the scornful.

            2. But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and in his law cdoes he meditate day and night.

            THERE is no greater encouragement, or stronger motive to excite a man to an eager and earnest pursuit of the means, than to propose unto him an end wherein at length his heart may repose, as in a concurrence of all comforts and contentmeuts. To which there is no pos­sibility of attainment but-by pureness of heart, holiness of life, constancy in a course of sanctification, which only lead unto the face and presence of God; where, and with whom alone, is the highest perfection of bliss, a river of infinite pleasures, the well of life, and endless rest of all created desires. For the capacity of man's soul cannot possibly be filled with the sufficiency of any creature; no, not with a world of creatures. For they are all nothing to the worth of a man's soul; CHRIST himself having pre­ferred it in valuation, a What shall it profit a man, though he should gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" And therefore it can never be free from motion and vexa­tion, until it reach, either in certain hope or actual frui­tion, unto an object, infinite, as well in excellency of nature, as duration of time. Blessed then was the wis­dom of the disposer of these heavenly songs of David; whether it was himself, or Ezra, or whosoever, in that he prefixed this excellent psalm, as a preface to all the rest; wherein is proposed, and comprised a matchless happiness, whereby the godly man may even in this life flourish like a palm-tree, and grow like a cedar in Lebanon; refreshed continually with rivers of joys and comforts, shed into his heart by the Spirit of God; and may stand like Mount Zion, unastonished and unremoved, at that great and fearful day, when the wicked shall call for the mountains to cover them, and wish they had never been.

            What ingenuous mind would not be inflamed with zeal, to the prosecution of those means, which lead unto an end as full of happiness, as the sun is full of light, and the sea of waters? What heart, not possessed with an iron sinew, would not thirst and long after sound and undissembled sincerity; even as the hart panteth after the rivers of water, and as the dry ground gapeth for drops of rain? Since by it alone we purchase and put on an unconquerable resolution, issuing from an assurance of being in CHRIST, and from the clearness of a good con-science, whereby we may walk even as bold as lions, through this valley of tears, amidst the merciless vexa­tions of profane men; nay, we may " walk upon the lion and asp, the young lion and the dragon we may tread under feet;" and hereafter be sure to be satisfied withfulness of joy in the presence of GOD, and with pleasures at his right hand for evermore.

            This happy man is here described unto us by many arguments.

            1. Are laid down his marks and properties, negative and affirmative, in the two first verses.

            2. His happiness is in a lively manner set out by a similitude, in the third verse.

            3. Illustrated by an opposition of the misery of the wicked, in the fourth and fifth verses.

            4. Concluded with the causes of them both, to wit, of the happiness.of the godly, and vengeance upon the wicked, in the last verse.

The negative properties, in the first verse, are three: 1. He cdoes not walk in the counsel of the wicked; 2. He cdoes not stand in the way of sinners: 3. He (does not sit in the seat of the scornful; amplified with a three-fold gradation in the persons, actions, and objects of the actions. The gradation in the persons, the wicked, sinners, and scornful, implies all sorts of ungodly men. The gradation in the actions, walk, stand, and sit, all manner of commerce and correspondence with them. The gra­dation in the objects, the counsel, way, and seat, all kinds of iniquity; inward corruptions, or outward impieties. The whole verse laboreth with an emphatical exaggera tion, to show the happy man's forbearance of sin, and all communicating with sinful men. The second verse, con. taming his employment in piety, seems to answer in opposition, these three negatives, with three affirmatives. 1. His delighting in the law of the Lord, is opposed to the counsel of the wicked. 2. His meditation, and exercise in the law, to the way of sinners. 3. Day and night. There is his constancy and habit, opposed to the seat of the scornful.

Why then, let the profane world say what they will; let sensual men judge as they list: that man, and that man alone is truly happy, 1. That walks not in the counsel of the.wicked; that is, that does not delight in their vain imaginations, sinful affections, lustful desires; in their proud and swelling thoughts; which conceive mischief, and bring forth a lie; that does not partake with their impotent passions, unhallowed policies; their

exorbitant projects for pleasures, honors, and profits; whose soul desires not to come into the secret of their cruel consultations; in a word, whose heart hateth the inward pollution, that has either fountain or seat in any power of the soul.

            2. That standeth not in the way of sinners: that is, that breaketh not out into open profaneness; that imitateth not their actions and conversation; whose mouth is not full of bitterness and lying; whose lips are not infected with the poison of asps; whose hands are not full of bribes and falsehood; whose feet are not swift to run after mischief, vanity, and lewd companions.

            3. That sitteth not in the seat of the scornful: that is, that confineth not himself to the chair of iniquity; that confirmeth not himself in his hardness of heart; that cdoes not make a mock at sin, and jest with the sacred Word of God; that does not direct the poisonous arrows of a spiteful tongue_ against God's dearest sery ants, who are even as the apple of his eye; that, with the scorner, cdoes not dare the highest Majesty of the Almighty to whet his glittering sword, and take hold on judgment; to put on his habergeon of righteousness, and the garments of vengeance for clothing: saying, as it is in Isa. 5: 19, " Let him make speed: let him hasten his work, that we may see it: and let the Holy One of Israel draw near, and. come, that we may know it."

            Thus far his forbearance of sinful actions. Now follows his practice in actions of piety. 1. His delight is in the law of the Lord: that is, the whole doctrine divinely inspired, is the very joy of his heart, and delight of his soul. It is sweeter unto him than honey, and the honey-comb. It is more precious unto him than gold; yea, than much fine gold. It is of more worth unto him than heaven and earth. And 2, where the heart is once en-kindled with love, there the imagination embraceth with dearest apprehension: the thoughts are impatient of any other object; all the powers of the soul are united in a strong endeavor of the attainment; and the whole mind must needs be possessed with meditation. If he delight yin the law of the Lord, he must meditate therein. And this fervency of the heart cannot possibly be enclosed within the compass of the breast: it will spread itself in speech and actions; as is plain from Psal. x cxvii. 3O, " The mouth of the righteous will speak of wisdom, and his tongue will talk of judgment." The reason follows, " For the law of his God is in his heart." And from Psal. cxix. 167, " My soul has kept thy testimonies: for I love them exceedingly." And 3, this love, delight, meditation, and exercise in the law of GOD, of this happy man, is not as a morning cloud, and as the morning clew before the sun: but like the light of the sun, that shincth more and more unto the perfect day. It is not a start, for fear, upon restraint, for reputation, for advantage; or to cover the terrors of conscience, for a while, with a few flashes of deceivable comforts, out of some misap­plied promises in the Word of God; but it is, out of a free resolution, and with undaunted constancy, day and night.

            But give me leave, before I proceed to the explication of the rest, to propane unto you this general doctrine, which has its strength from the body of the psalm, and the main scope of the Spirit of God. There is in the book of God offered unto us, an happiness, standing in opposi­tion to all the vain felicities which ancient philosophers de­vised out of their deep speculations; or profane men out of their corrupt,affections; not consisting in pleasures, riches, honors, greatness'; in civil honesty, formal hypo­crisy; or the whole possibility of nature: but in super-natural grace, and the blessed consequents.

            The whole book of Ecclesiastes, Solomon's sacred re-tractions, is a large demonstration of this doctrine. Solomon was son unto the worthiest king that ever swayed a sceptre upon earth; and he was predecessor in the royal line unto the Son of God; and so was matchless for nobility, if true happiness had consisted therein. He was king of Jerusalem, the perfection of beauty, and the joy of the whole earth. He made silver as stones, and gave cedars as the wild fig-trees, that grow abundantly in the plain. He built him houses, and planted vineyards. He provided him men-singers, and women-singers; and the delights of the sons of men. Whatsoever his eyes desired, he with-held it not from them, and withdrew not his heart from any joy. For wisdom and understanding, he had a large heart, even as the sand that is on the sea-shore. In speculative knowledge, he excelled the wisdom of all the children of the East, and all the wisdom of Egypt. He was able to discourse from the cedar-tree that is in Lebanon, even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall. In wisdom of policy and government, there was none like unto him before him, neither after him should arise the like unto him. So that Solomon was the most fit and absolute man that ever lived, both for ability in understanding, abundance in possession, and desire in searching, to take an exact measure of the worth and sufficiency of all creatures: and to raise from them the best satisfactions they could possibly afford. Yet, when he had wearied himself in the variety of passages of this life, (in the book of Ecclesiastes, see his judgment,) he utterly disavows and disclaims them all, as miserable comforters, as mere shadows and dreams; wherein there is no more matter of sound comfort, than there is light in the greatest darkness. He says of laughter, you art mad; and of joy, what is this that you doest? And whereas wisdom and knowledge are the most incom­parable treasures this transitory world has; he says, that " in the multitude of wisdom is much grief: and he that increases knowledge, increases sorrow." And of these, and all other things under the sun; yea, and if to the glory of all created natures, were an addition of ten thousand excellencies, that never man saw or enjoyed; he has pronounced of them all, in respect of true hap­piness, and divided from the grace and fear of GOD, that they are,all vanity., And if he stayed there, it had been well; that argues but a passive imperfection, and a weak-ness in the things themselves; but they are vexation of spirit; nothing in themselves; yet full of power and activity, to inflict vengeance and vexation upon the spirit of a man.

            The spirit of a man being sound in sincerity, and seconded with a good conscience, is able to bear out his infirmities, and all the miseries incident to his nature. It is able to pass by, with a resolute patience, the lying imputations of the profanest malice. It is able, by the grace of GOD, to encounter the terrors of death, and the fearfulness of the grave; yea, to endure with gracious humility, even the presence of God and angels at that great day. But a wounded spirit who can bear? If the eye be dark, how great is that darkness? If the spirit of a reran, which should refresh all the faculties of the soul with comfortable cheerfulness, and fill the whole body with a lively vigor, be itself wounded with vexation and terror; how comfortless is that man? If his strength were the strength of stones, and his flesh of brass; yet would the torment of a bitter, afflicted soul, grind him to powder; and melt, as the dew before the sun, what­soever he accounted strongest, and most powerful to re­lieve his heaviness; it would turn all his choicest and dearest pleasures into wormwood And bitterness.

            And this vexation, with which riches, honors, or what other vanity desirable in this life, does afflict the unregenerate heart, is two-fold; 1: In the pursuit of them is much anguish, many grievances, fears, jealousies, disgraces, interruptions, discontentments. But 2. after the unsanctified enjoying of them, follows the sting of conscience, that will everlastingly vex the soul; which is the very earnest of the fire of hell; by which a man does expect with inconceivable horror, the consummation of the wrath of GOD, (which burns far hotter, and more unquenchably, than any fire, though augmented with infinite rivers of brimstone,) to be poured upon his body and soul for evermore, in the world to come. How then possibly can there be any happiness in these vexatious? Wherefore, Solomon, having proved the negative part of why doctrine, concludes the positive in the last chapter that to fear GOD, and to keep his commandments, is the only way to be possessed of true happiness; to find peace of conscience, and assurance of the favor of God.

            For let a man, while he will, in this world of vanity, either sport himself in the soft and green way of fading pleasures; or please himself in the glorious miseries of honors and high places; or tire himself in the toils of insatiable greediness; or brave it in his oaths, blasphemies, and strength of pouring in strong drink; or tread the des­perate path of contempt of the power of religion, the truth of GOD, and sincerity of his saints: all the while, when he is at the best, he is but as the raging sea that cannot rest. For so Isaiah compares the wicked, chap. lvii. 2O. The sea, you know, is not only many times tossed up and down with winds and tempests; but ever inwardly dis­quieted, even with its own motions, casting up continual mire and dirt upon the shore, and breaking into foam its proudest waves against the rocks; even so the heart of that man, who has reposed his affections upon the glory of this life, is not only many times disquieted with outward crosses; as with loss of friends, discountenance of great ones, disappointment of his hopes, with wrongful railings and disgraces; with looking upon the clay of his death, and vengeance upon the wicked; with disturbers of his security in his pleasures and dignities: but is also, besides the restless torture of his conscience, ever from within, foaming out his own shame, the dishonor of GOD, and the vexation of his brethren.

            But it is not so with him that holds the fear of God for his surest sanctuary; that has resolved to resign up him-self in holy obedience to the will of God. His heart is like the upper part of the world, which is ever full of serenity, constancy, and brightness; be the air below never so troubled with storms and thunders; or the earth with commotions and tumults. For let there be about him the devouring sword of the tyrant, the consuming flames of persecution, the keen razors of lying tongues, she mouths of lions, the cruel combination, of his enemies; nay, let the earth be moved, and let the moun­tains fall into the midst of the sea; yet his heart is joyful, patient, resolute, and contented.

            But, to descend more specially to the particulars of the negative part of my doctrine: let me add to the many and strong reasons of the ancient philosophers and late schoolmen, (against pleasures, riches, and honors,) these three; which will for ever utterly disable them for claiming any spew of interest in man's happiness. 1: They eau-not possibly fill the unlimited desire of the soul. For although the treasures, the greatness, the delights of all men living, were in the present possession of one: yet somewhat beside, and above all this, would still be sought, and thirsted for. Nay it is certain, if one plan were, not only crowned with the sovereignty of all the Kingdoms of the earth, but besides, were made commander of the motions of the sun, and the glory of the stars; yet the restless eye of his unsatisfied understanding would pry beyond the heavens, for some hidden excellency, and sup-posed felicity, which the whole compass of this created world could not yield. So unquenchable is the thirst of man's soul, until it has itself in the river of life, and in the immeasurable ocean of goodness and wisdom. So *impossible is it, that this material world, with all her per­fections, should be a proportionable object to so precious a nature; or that so divine a spark should cease rising and aspiring, until it join itself to that infinite flame of glory and majesty, from whence it first issued.

            2. They cannot secure the conscience distressed with the apprehension of the wrath of GOD, or prevent his judgments. li'Iemorable is that horrible amazement that "urprised the heart of Belshazzar, amidst his greatest jollities. Molting Ia

.'e was in pleasures; solacing himself amongst his wives and concubines; carousing in the golden and silver vessels of the temple; but when there appeared fingers of a man's hand, which wrote over-against the candlestick, upon the plaster of the wall, (a remembrance'. unto his conscience, how contemptuously and sacrilegiously he had dishonored the highest majesty; and that the vials of God's heavy vengeance were ready to be poured upon his head,) all the joys of his royal pomp vanished as the smoke. For " then the king's counte­nance was changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so that the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote one against the other." And now, one pang of his wounded conscience did much more torment him than the kingdom, majesty,_ glory, and honor, which he received from his father Nebuchadnezzar, could ever comfort him. So, I doubt not, but many times, the hearts of many glorious ones in this life, that are not in trouble like other men, but spread themselves as green bay-trees; when they hear the certain judgments of God denounced out of his book by his ministers, against those sins, to which, (by long custom and vowed resolution,) they have fastened their affections: I say, that many times, (except their consciences be seared as with a hot iron, against the day of vengeance, and then their case is unspeakably woeful,) their hearts tremble, even as the trees of the forest, that are shaken with the wind. Amidst their laughing, their hearts are sorrowful. Or if their mirth be entire, it is but " like the noise of thorns under the pot." Thorns under a pot, you know, make a great crackling, and a noise for a little time. They blaze fair and bright, but are suddenly extinct, and brought to nothing. Neither are those cold comforters able t() quench God's fiery jealousy, when it breaks forth in plagues and judgments against a sinful people.

            3. They cannot stretch themselves unto eternity. For there are no contentments of this life, (whether they he in honors, riches, pleasures, or friends,) let them be never so many in number, so potent in the world, or in our own persuasions, so exempt from mixture of discom­fort, that can possibly bring us further than our death-bed. it may be for a few days of our life, they have detained us in a fool's paradise, yet full of vipers and scorpions; it may be they have left some obscure prints of unsoundjoys in our passages. But then, at their farewell, they are utterly despoiled of their weak and imaginary sweet­ness; and are wholly turned into wounds and wormwood, into gall and vexation. They leave a sting in the con-science that never dies; but themselves die all at our deaths, and he down with us in our graves. Why then, when the immortal soul, being dislodged from this taber­nacle of clay, shall enter the confines of eternity, what shall comfort it through that endless duration? For if it look back to this inch of time, which it consumed in vanity, it may ask, Why have I been troubled about many things? Why have I disquieted myself in vain? Why have I insulted over innocency, and accounted sincerity madness? What has pride profited me? Or what profit has the pomp of riches brought me? And it may be answered, " All those things are passed away like a shadow, and as a post that passes by; as a ship that passes over the waves of the water, which when it is gone by, the trace thereof cannot be found, neither the path of it in the floods. Or as a bird, that flieth through the air, and no man can see any token of her passage, but only hear the noise of her wings, beating the light wind, parting the air through the vehemency of her going, whereas afterward no token of her way can be found. If then the expiration of all worldly comforts be most certain and inevitable, at the furthest at our de­parture from this life; it is impossible there should be any absolute joy found in them. For there is wanting the very life of true happiness, assurance of perpetuity.

            Imagine therefore a man to be abundantly encompassed even with the desire of his heart; let him wash his paths with butter; and let the rock pour him out rivers of oil; let him heap up silver as the dust, and gold as the mire in the streets; let him deck himself with majesty and excellency, and array himself with beauty and glory; let him drink up the pleasures of this world in as great abun­dance as Behemoth the river Jordan; yet all is nothing, himself being covered with corruption and mortality; and the fruition of them with vanity and change. One

generation passes away, and another generation conical.

            He must at length necessarily make resignation, of all into the hands of a new succession; and he shall take nothing away when he dies; neither shall his pomp or pleasure descend after him. Yet if a man, besides an entire and uninterrupted possession of his worldly contentments, (which is never to be looked for in this life, for, as Job speaks, " While his flesh is upon him, he shall be sor­rowful; and while his soul is in him, it shall mourn;" yet, I say, if besides,) he were able to extend his life to many millions of years, the matter were a little more tolerable. But alas, the life of a man at most is but a span long; and that which makes it much more miserable, he knows not in what part of that short span, how sud­denly, or how soon he shall be cut off from the land of the living; and go, and shall not return, even unto the land of darkness, and shadow of desth. For " the re­joicing of the wicked is short, and the joy of hypocrites is but a moment. Though his excellency mount up to the heaven, and his head reach unto the clouds: yet shall he perish for ever, like dung; and they which have seen him, shall say, where is he? He shall flee away as a dream, and they shall not find him, and shall pass away as a vision of the night. So that the eye, which had seen him, shall do so no more, and his place shall see him no more." And in this respect, man's condition is far infe­rior to other creatures. One generation passes, and another generation'succeedeth; but the earth remaineth for ever. The sun seems every night to he down in a bed of darkness; but he rises in the morning clothed with the same glory and brightness, and rejoiceth as a giant to run his course: but " man (says Job) dieth, man pe­risheth, and where is he? As the waters pass from the sea, and as the flood decayeth, and drieth up; so man sleepeth, and riseth not: for he shall not wake again, nor be raised from his sleep, till the heaven be no more."

            To let therefore these wretched vanities pass, as unworthy to be insisted on thus long; howsoever, the worldly-minded man, wanting utterly the eye of faith, and having his eye of reason dimmed with mists, that rise from his tumultuous passions, niay seem to see in them some glimmerings of happiness; yet certainly, the more generous mind may clearly, out of the very light of reason, discern them all to be no better than a broken staff or reed; whereupon if a man lean it will go into his hand, and pierce it, yea, and strike his heart too through with many sorrows; and that in the time of trouble, they will all prove but as a broken tooth, and sliding foot. To let them pass, and die and perish, I come to two other branches of the negative part, civil honesty, and formal hypocrisy. These indeed are the two great engines, by which in this full light and glorious noontide of the gospel, the prince of this world drawetll many multitudes into his snares in this life, and into chains of darkness in the life to come.

            Sweetness of nature, loveliness of disposition, fairness of conditions, -a pleasing affability in carriage and conver­sation, an unswayed uprightness in civil actions and nego­tiations with men, make a goodly skew. But if there be an accession of profession of the gospel, of outward performance of religious exercises, of some correspon­dence with the servants of God; there is the perfection. Whatsoever is above is proud hypocrisy, vain-glorious singularity, phantastic preciseness; when, (God knows,) there may be all this, and yet no power of religion, no life of grace, no true happiness, no hope of eternity. To the demonstration of which point, before I proceed, let me prevent two objections.

            1. I deny not, that moral virtue is good, and excellent in itself; the outward performance of religious duties, and the exercise of the means of our conversion, are necessary. But if moral virtue were able to put on the greatest magnificence, that ever it anciently enjoyed among the prccisest Romans, whereby it might worthily draw into admiration, even these times of Christianity; yet in respect of acceptance with GOD, and conformity to his will, it is but at the best very filthiness. And out-ward actions of religion, be they performed with as glorious a show as - ever they were by the most formal pharisee; yet severed from a sound and sanctified heart, (the fountain which gives life, sweetness, and acceptation to all outward services,) they are but all, as the cutting off of a dog's neck, and the offering of swine's blood.

            2. I do not, here, by any means intend the discomfort of that man, whose soul is yet wrestling with the grievous afflictions and terrors of conscience, in the sore travel of his new birth. I wish unto him the sweetest comforts that either he in his greatest agonies can desire, or the bowels of God's tenderest compassion are wont to pour into broken and bleeding hearts; and that the joyful light of his Savior's countenance may break forth upon his cloudy and drooping conscience, with far greater brightness than ever the clearest sun upon the face of the earth. Neither do I purpose the discouragement of him, who has happily passed the fearful, but necessary pangs of remorse for sins, and has already, (by the grace of GOD,) laid hold on the merits and mercies’of CHRIST, by a true, though a weak faith. I wish that his soul, (as a new-born babe in CHRIST,) may be touched with the smoothest hand of the most wise and charitable dis­cretion; and that it may be nourished with the sweetest milk of the most gracious and comfortable promises. I ever esteemed it most bloody cruelty to quench the smoking flax, or break the bruised reed, or to add sorrow unto him, whom the Lord has wounded; and therefore rather infinitely desire to turn the smoking flax into a burning fire of zeal; to refresh the weak and wounded heart, with the softest oil of God's dearest mercies; to make the bruised reed a pillar of brass, that it may stand strong and sure at the day of trial. It is not difference of degrees and measure that takes away the nature of faith. A small drop of water is as truly water, as the whole ocean. A little spark is as truly fire, as the mightiest flame. The hand of a little child may receive a pearl, as well as the hand of the greatest giant, though not hold it so strongly. A weak faith may be a true faith, and so a saving faith. This only I must advise, that if this grain of mustard-seed, watered with the dew of grace, grow not towards a great tree; if this spark, enkindled by the Spirit of GOD, spread not into a big flame; if this small measure of faith be not edged with a longing fervency after fullness of persuasion, and seconded with an assiduous and serious endeavor after more per­fection, it is no sound and saving faith, but only a coun­terfeit show, and a deceiving shadow.

But yet for all this, I cannot, (without a woe,) speak good of evil, and evil of good. I must not put darkness for light, and light for darkness. Wise Solomon has taught us, "That he that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they both are an abomi­nation unto the Lord." And therefore I must tell you, that a man may be great in the eye of the world, and in the judgment of the greater part, for his civil honesty, and solemn performances of outward duties of religion, (to which many thousands never attain,) and yet himself be not only a stranger to the life of' God and right happi­ness, and holden fast under the power of the first death; but also, being puffed up, become a violent opposer of the power of religion and true godliness.

            The reason whereof may be this: our corrupt nature, as in matters of understanding and opinion,) worketh in every man too much love of his own conclusions. All opposition inflames the affections, and excites the wit, to find out arguments for their proof, lest he seem to have been too weak of judgment in framing them, or too in-constant in not defending them. Even so also in matters of life and conversation. And the more plausible a man's course is, and the more gloriously it is entertained by the world, the stronger is his resolution to continue in it, and the more impatient he is of all controlment and contradiction. So that moral honesty, and outward religiousness, being in themselves good and necessary, and a good step to Christianity; yet are many times a strong bar to keep men from the power of godliness. Because, when they consider their present course is in good ac­ceptance with the world, and that it may well consist with the free enjoyment of their honors and pleasures, they willingly and peremptorily repose upon it; con-tented with the probable error of being in the state of grace, and with a plausible passage unto eternal death. And the rather, because they know full well, if they should step forward unto inward holiness, they would not only raise up against themselves many thundering tern-pests of the world's insolent, false, and spiteful censures; but also even from the bottom of hell, many disturbances and fearful temptations. For I am persuaded, while a man lies secure in the course of unregeneration, if the devil can procure it, he shall enjoy his heart's desire, he shall bring his enterprizes to pass, and not fall into trouble like other men. He only then begins to bestir himself, when a man begins to stir towards grace; or when by his trains he has brought him to some point of advantage, to some dead lift, to his death-bed; that he may have a full stroke at his destruction, that he may suddenly and certainly swallow him up, body and soul; and then he pays him home: for either through sense­lessness, or despair, he sinks him down irrecoverably into the bottom of hell.

These two objections thus prevented, I come to the proof of the point in hand. And first, these reasons following may demonstrate, that he which reaches but to civil honesty, comes far short of being in CHRIST, and consequently of true happiness. 1. Some of the heathens attained a great measure of moral perfection. And yet all these excellencies of morality are justly censurstd by divinity, from that ground in the epistle to the Hebrews, "Without faith it is impossible to please God." Let a man's works in show be never so good, except the heart be purged from dead works by a lively faith, and pure from an evil conscience, he is but a painted sepulchre, or a whited wall.

            The 2nd reason is grounded upon the words of St. Paul, 1 Cor. 2: 14, "The natural man perceiveth not the things of the Spirit of GOD, for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned." In this place, by natural man is not meant only the sensual man, wallowing in vanities and plea­sures; but a man considered with the whole compass of the reasonable soul's possibility. And man's reasonable soul, by the strength that it yet retains, may purchase some kind of perfection. First, in itself it may be excellent, if en­dowed with a sharp wit, a quick apprehension, a strong understanding, a piercing judgment, a faithful memory, a more moderate will, and milder affections. But if by industry and art it furnish every faculty with those orna­ments of which it is naturally capable, the perfection is much more admirable. And yet, besides these excel­lencies in itself, it may shine gloriously to others, it may go further, and enable itself by action, experience, and observation, to attain such an universal wisdom, that it may not only be qualified for notable offices of society, but also reach unto that depth of foresight and large comprehension of circumstances, that it may be worthy of employment in the affairs of state, and in the direction and guidance of whole kingdoms. All these perfections may concur on the soul, and yet it remain stark blind in the mysteries of salvation. Imagine them all jointly in one man, and in the highest degree of perfection and excellency, of which unsanctified morality is capable, and let them be never so much admired of the world; yet without the salt of grace to season them, and the life of grace to animate them, they are but as gay attire upon a leprous body; as bracelets upon a dead and rotten carcass.

            Let no man then deceive his own heart; he may be enriched with singular ability in all the faculties of the soul; he may be stored with variety of the choicest and profoundest learning; he may express in action and civil honesty the absolute portraiture of Aristotle's moral virtues; he may be as politick as Ahitophel, " Whose counsel, which he counselled in those days, was like as if one had asked counsel at the oracle of God:" and yet without supernatural illumination, and the Divine graces of faith, love, zeal, sincerity, spiritual wisdom, a sanctified striving of spirit, in making towards God in all kinds of duties; which only put a man into possession of true happiness, and fit him for a blessed association with GOD, angels, and holy men I say, without these super-natural graces, he not only cannot perceive the things of the Spirit of GOD, (but which is a horrible and fearful curse,) will even esteem them foolishness.

            The 3rd reason shall be taken from the example of Nicodemus, John 3: Nicodemus, I am persuaded, was an honest man. I am sure he was a great man, and a teacher of Israel; yet when he comes out of his civil honesty and natural wisdom, to reason with CHRIST about the salvation of his soul, he is strangely childish, and a mere infant. For when CHRIST tells him, "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God;" he replies, " How can a man be born which is old? Can he enter into his mother's womb again and be born?" A reply, which may cause astonishment in all that shall ever read this story understandingly unto the world's end. Nay, it seems strange to CHRIST himself, by his in­terrogative admiration afterward, "Art you a teacher of Israel, and knows not these things?" And no marvel; for who would think that one of the best of the Phari­sees, a ruler of the Jews, a professed doctor in the law and the prophets, and one careful to save his soul, should be so grossly ignorant in a most necessary point of salvation; especially, having many times, no doubt, read it in Moses and the prophets? Amongst many places, he might see in Ezek. xxxvi. 26, 27, most clearly laid down, the great and glorious work of our new birth, " A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you, and I will take the stony heart out of your body, and I will give you a heart of flesh." But when he comes from teaching, and reading of this and the like places, to be examined in the experimental feeling of these graces of regeneration upon his own soul, he talks of a man that is old entering again into his mother's womb. But so it is, where the heart is not seasoned with saving grace. Let the understanding be never so great with swelling knowledge, the practical powers of the soul never so pregnant with wisdom and policy, and perfected with moral virtues; yet there is nothing to be expected from that man in matters of sal­vation, but darkness and blindness, childishness and stupidity.

            4. The young man in the gospel may be a fit instance for our present purpose. He was irreprovable in external justice and the outward observance of the second table, wherein civil honesty does principally consist; but how far he was from inward sanctification, the state of grace, and happiness of God's children, appears in the story. For, when the powerful words of our blessed Savior had insinuated into the secrets of his soul, and struck at his sweet sin of covetousness, the young man is presently cast into a fit of melancholy. CHRIST is too precise a preacher for him, he cannot digest such a strict course. He will not abandon his pleasures, his palaces, his pos­sessions, to follow CHRIST the Lord of heaven and earth in this life, though he assure him of the rich treasures of eternal blessedness in the life to come. " When the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful: for he had great possessions." Whereby we may see, that a man may be civilly honest and uncensurable in outward works of justice, and yet nourish some close corruptions, and sweet sin in his, heart, from which rather than he will part, he will lose his part in CHRIST, the bottomless fountain of endless joys and comforts, and his portion of invaluable glory in the new Jerusalem.

This point being thus manifest, for conclusion I will lay down certain differences, between the righteousness of faith and sanctification, and the righteousness of civil honesty; that a man may have some directions to examine his soul and conscience in this respect.

            1. The fountain and original of the righteousness of faith, is the sanctifying Spirit of God. But the fountain of civil honesty,. may be goodness of constitution, whereby a man may not be so inclined to notorious sins, or want of trials and provocations, or fear of laws and temporal punishments, or desire of reputation, or a vain hope to stay God's judgments for inward corruptions, or at best, the restraining Spirit of God; by which he does repress the passions and outrages of the wicked, and reduce them to some moderation.

            2. The righteousness of civil honesty, in outward actions, may make a colorable pretence to piety and uprightness; but indeed has many secret relations to pleasures, to friends, to profits, to revenge, to passions, and such like; not easily discernible, but by him, whose eyes are ten thousand times larger than the sun. But the righteousness of faith has in all actions, for the principal end, the glory of God. And if infirmity do sometimes distain them with some mixture, (for who can say, my heart is clean?) it works in the faithful soul much sorrow, striving against it, repentance and humiliation.

            3. Civil honesty makes no great conscience of smaller sins; as lying, gaming, jesting, idleness, pastime on the Sabbath-day. But the righteousness of faith having a sensible feeling of the heavy weight of sin, from those anguishes which the conscience felt before the effusion of faith;. and being still stung with a check and smart for all kinds of transgressions, does seasonably and propor­tionably hate and make resistance to all known sins.

            4. Civil honesty does not use to make opposition against- the sins of the time, but is even willing to be carried with the stream; only upon fairer terms than notorious sinners; and therefore will go and encourage a man in godly courses, until he meet with, either a dis­grace to his person, a disturbance to his pleasures, an imputation, to his forwardness, a stop to his preferments, loss of friends, or some such cross and discouragement; and then it teacheth him to step back, as a man ready to tread upon a serpent, and to start aside like a broken how. But the righteousness of faith does stand out for the honor of GOD, come what can; crosses or calum­niations, good report or evil report, men or devils. For it is completely armed with confidence of future happi­ness, and has fixed the eye upon the crown of immor­tality; which if heaven and earth conspired, they were not able to pull it out of his hand, who reserves it in the heavens, for all those that fight a good fight, that keep the faith, and run with constancy the race of sanc­tification.

            The next point of the negative part of my doctrine is formal hypocrisy. Which, that you may more clearly understand, consider with me three kinds of hypocrisy: privy hypocrisy, gross hypocrisy, formal hypocrisy.

            Privy hypocrisy is that by which a man makes pro­fession of more than is in his heart. And this sometimes does mix itself, even with the most sanctified actions of God's dearest children; and does soonest insinuate into a heart stored with the rich treasures of true godliness. For SATAN, if he cannot detain a man's soul in notorious sinfulness, in mere civil honesty, or formality, but that by the sacred inspirations of God's good Spirit, it is pulled out of the mouth of hell, from the slavery of sin, into the glorious light and liberty of CHRIST's kingdom; he is enraged with implacable fury, and does with eager pursuit persecute that soul, both by his own malice, and by the cruel agency of profane men. And if he cannot procure a relapse into gross sins; yet that he may in some measure work the dishonor of GOD, he does labor to distain the pure streams of Divine grace, in the foul puddle of our corrupted nature; and at last to fasten the spots of privy hypocrisy upon the best actiona. This hypocrisy arises from spiritual pride. For when a godly man, by the great work of regeneration, is become " more excellent than his neighbor," (as indeed he incomparably is, howsoever the world's estimation be otherwise. Because the one is, as yet, a limb of SATAN, receiving from him the cursed influence of foul pollu­tions. The other is already a blessed member of CHRIST's mystical body, continually inspired with holy, motions and the life of grace:) and perceives this great difference, he is filled with joyful admiration of his own happiness; which SATAN seeing, (who is perfectly experienced in all advantages and opportunities for spiritual assaults, and working upon the relics of man's proud nature,) Both cunningly draw him to advance above that which is meet, in his own opinion, the worth of his own graces and virtues. Which that he may present to the view of the world, with an excellency proportionable to his own overweening conceit, he is forced to admit the secret and insensible poison of privy hypocrisy; which at first he does more easily entertain, because the bitterness thereof is not discernible, by reason of the predominancy and sweetness of the fresh present graces of God's Spirit in his soul. But when by afflictions or disgraces, by some extraordinary temptation or particular cheeks from the ministry of the word, the ugliness of it is discovered to his conscience; he for ever abhors it, as a consuming canker, that would fret out the very heart of grace; and therefore with much humiliation and fervency does pray against it, strive against it, and, by the mercies of GOD, prevail against it. This kind of hypocrisy belongs not to my present purpose; only by the way, let me give adver­tisement to the child of GOD, (for to him only I speak in this' point, to the end he may keep his heart unblamable in holiness, and preserve the true relish and sound joy of good actions entire, and undistempered,) that he would strongly fence his heart with unfeigned humility, against privy pride, the mother of this hypocrisy, as against a close, undermining, and dangerous enemy.

            The second kind is, gross hypocrisy; by which a man professeth that which is not in his heart at all, and so deceives others, but not his own heart. And this is most properly hypocrisy. For the Greek word, *, signifies a stage-player; who sometimes putteth on the robes and majesty of a prince, or the gravity and wisdom of a counsellor. Sometimes he represented] a chaste and modest lover. Sometimes he assumed' a good and honest vocation. Even such is the gross hypocrite upon the stage of this world, a very painted sepulchre and whited wall; glorious indeed in outward fashions, to the eye of the world; but if it were possible for a man to make an exact inquiry into the close hidden passages of his heart, under the vail of his outward religiousness, he would see a perfect anatomy of the infinite and deceitful corruptions of the heart of man, and many plausible politic contrivances to blear the eyes of the world; how­soever, wretched man, upon his own silly and forlorn soul he certainly draws an exceeding weight of vengeance. This kind of hypocrite is more miserable, and of less hope than the open sinner.

Good Lord, it is strange and fearful, that so excellent a creature as man, endued with reason and understanding, like an angel of God; having those great and universal motives, the immortality of the soul, the resurrection of the dead, the joys of the kingdom of heaven, the endless pains of the wicked, which (except he be an avowed Atheist,) he does certainly believe; and whereas L might live on earth with unconquerable comfort, and shine hereafter as the brightness of the firmament; be a com­panion of saints and angels, and stand in the glorious presence of the highest Majesty for ever and ever; yet for all this, will even wilfully, against the light of his conscience, and with the certain knowledge of his heart, by his gross hypocrisy, secret abominations and uncleanness, privy practices for some wretched pleasures, make-himself in the eyes of GOD, (howsoever he deceive men,) a very incarnate devil upon earth; and after this life, justly heap upon his body and soul, all the horrors and despairs, tortures and plagues, which a created nature is capable of!

            The third kind is, formal hypocrisy, by which a man cdoes not only deceive others with a show of piety, but also his own heart, with a false persuasion, that he is in a happy state, when in truth his soul was never yet seasoned with the power of religion. And I beseech you mark me in this point. It is of great consequence to every one for a sound trial of the state of his conscience, whether he yet live the life of GOD, and stand in the state of grace, or he enthralled in the slavery of sin and SATAN. For herein I must tell you, how far a man may proceed in outward profession of the truth, in super-natural decrease of sinfulness, in some kinds and mea­sures of inward graces, and yet come short of true happiness.

            For explication of this point, conceive with me those perfections which a man may possess while yet unregene­rate, and in the state of damnation. We may suppose in him, first, all those gifts which the possibility of nature can confer upon him, all ornaments of arts and knowledge, of wisdom and policy; not only that which is purchased by experience, observation, and employ­ment in points of state; but also the spirit of govern­ment, as Saul had. To these we may add gentleness, and fairness of conditions, an exactness of civil honesty, moral justice, and an immunity from gross sins. And thus far the heathen’ might go. But in these times of Christianity, a reprobate may go further far than the most innocent heathen that ever lived could; though some of them were admirable for their mild and merciful dispo­sition, some for their virtuous severity, some for integrity of life, some for constancy in goodness. For to all these he may add, a profession of the gospel, a performance of

all outward duties and exercises of religion, many works of charity, and monuments of his rich munificence. Nay, besides all this, he may be made a partaker of some measure of inward illumination, of a shadow of true regeneration; there being no grace effectually wrought in the faithful, whereof a resemblance may not be found in the unregenerate. 1. He may be endued with under-standing and knowledge in the word of God. 2. He may be persuaded that it is divinely inspired, and that it is most true. 3. He may see clearly by the law of GOD, the unspeakable evil of his sins, and the heavy judgments due unto them. 4. He may be amazed and terrified with fearful horror and remorse of conscience for his sins. 5. He may give assent unto the covenant of grace in CHRIST, as most certain and sure; and may conceive that CHRIST's merits are of an invaluable price, and a most precious re­storative to a languishing soul. 6. He may be persuaded in a general manner, that the Lord will make good his cove­nant of grace unto the members of his church; and that he will plentifully perform all the promises of happiness to his children. 7. And from this faith may spring some kind and measure of hope, love, patience, and other graces. It is said in the evangelists, that that hearer, (which we call the formal hypocrite,) receives the word with joy; whence may be gathered: That with willingness and cheerfulness he may submit himself to the ministry of the word: that with forwardness and joyfulness he may follow preachers and frequent sermons: that with a discourse on the sufferings of CHRIST, he may be moved even unto tears, that such glorious and infinite innocency should be vexed with all manner of torments, for 6.13 impieties of sinful men: that he may love and reverence, give countenance and patronage to the ministers, whom he hears with gladness: that he may esteem the negligent, or no hearers of the word of GOD, as profane and of seared consciences. And the word of GOD, by this tem­porary faith, and other graces, may work such a change in him as is called " The unclean spirits going out of a man," Matt. 12: 43. " A fleeing from the pollutions of the world," 2 Pet. 2: 2O. "A washing," 2 Pet. 2: 22. And may have such power upon him, that he may do many things gladly.

            Nay, and beside all these, that which nails him fast unto formality, and makes him with content walk in a course of outward profession, is a persuasion that he is already in the way of life, when as yet he never entered it. For indeed he may be persuaded (though from mis­taken grounds,) that he is rich in heavenly things, and has need of nothing; and that he is already possessed of the kingdom of grace, and entitled to the kingdom of glory; and yet be most " wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked:" his state in this case being not unlike the dream of a poor or hungry man, who in his sleep filleth himself with a variety of dainties, and when he awaketh, behold, he is faint, his soul longeth, and he embraceth nothing but emptiness and air; yea, and besides, the very imaginary fruition of his supposed happiness, when he is awaked, doubles the sense of his necessities. Even so the formal hypocrite in this life dreams much of comfort to come, makes sure of heaven, thinks himself the only man, and his "form of godli­ness," the only true state of salvation. Whatsoever is short of him, is profaneness; whatsoever is above him, is preciseness. But when upon his death-bed he awaketh, and has his particular sins revealed unto him, instead of catching a crown of glory, which he has vainly pos­sessed in his security, he graspeth nothing but fear and amazement, anguish and sorrow. Yea, and now his former false persuasion of this happy state enlargeth the gulf of his despair, and makes him more sensible of his present and expected miseries.

Give me leave, I beseech you, to enlarge on this point, and to acquaint you with some reasons of this persuasion. For a false persuasion of., already being in a state of grace, is a bar that keeps thousands from the state of grace indeed. The good Spirit of GOD, (you know,) Both

persuade every regenerate man by a sweet and silent inspiration, and out of a consideration of an universal change in all the powers and parts of his soul and body, and calling, that he is most certainly in the state of grace. Whence spring perpetually rivers of unspeakable comfort, that most then refresh his soul, when he is nearest to be overwhelmed in the main ocean of the world's bitterness and pressures. In a lying resem­blance to this sacred work of the Holy Ghost in the hearts of God's children, SATAN, lest he be wanting to his, puts on the glory of an angel of light; and in­sinuateth into the imagination of the formal professor some flashes of comfort and conceit, that he is in a state of grace, and shall be saved. Whence issues a cursed security, a slumber of conscience, an impatiency of having his formality censured, a neglect of a more sound search into the state of his soul.

            For SATAN, (in his angelical form,) tells him, that more strictness and purity is but only a proud hypocrisy and pretence of such as affect a transcendency above the ordinary degrees of holiness; and bids him take heed of being too busy and pragmatical in taking notice of every small corruption and infirmity. And howsoever, (says SATAN,) some preachers of precise humor, out of their censorious austerity, breathe out nothing against thee but fire and brimstone, yet do not take these things to heart. Thus this wily serpent cries, " Peace, peace; when, (God knows,) there is no peace." The conscience indeed may be asleep for awhile, like a fierce wild beast gathering vigor, that being awakened by the hand of GOD, at the approach of sickness or death, it may more i:tiplacably rend, devour, and torment for ever.

But I come to the grounds of this persuasion. I told you before, that the Spirit of God assures his children, that they are in the state of grace, out of a consideration of an universal sincerity in all their ways. But SATAN for his children has other reasons, which I conceive to be such as these: First, the formal hypocrite is confirmed, that his state is good, when he compares himself with those which are more sinful; as murderers, adulterers, drunkards, profaners of the Sabbath, swearers, and liars. But if, (besides the disclaiming these,) his conscience be able to inform him of his honesty, external goodness, and works of charity, then the matter is put out of all con­troversy. You may see his picture in the 18th of Luke, " GOD, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or as this publican." There is his exemption from common profaneness. " I fast twice in the week, I give tythes of all that I possess." There is his outward goodness and religious solemnities. But you must not conceive that the formal hypocrite cdoes proclaim this in public, with such palpable osten­tation. Nay, (perhaps,) when it arises, he lets it not rest long in his own thoughts, lest by this vanity his virtues lose their grace, and he is comfort. But certain it is, a consciousness of his being free from impious im­pieties, of his moral honesty, performance of outward and some inward duties of religion, in some measure, is one of the best grounds he has for his assurance of being in a state of salvation.

            The second reason whereby the formal hypocrite is moved to think his state to be good, and the way of his life to be right, is a prejudice which he conceives from the imputations which the world layeth upon the children of God: such as pride, hypocrisy, singularity, melancholy, and the like. But before I descend to these particulars, give me leave to propose unto you the fountain and ground of them, which I take to be that great and eternal opposition which is naturally between light and darkness; the life of grace, and a death in sin; the children of GOD, and the wicked. God's children, you know, in this world, live as sheep among wolves. In the stormy times of the church, their persecutors are indeed wolves in the evening, for their insatiable cruelty, and unquenchable thirst, in drinking up the blood of the saints. And in the halcyon days and fairest times of the church, yet they have those which will be pricks in their eyes, and thorns in their sides. If they cannot vex them in a higher degree, yet they will be sure to load them with indignities, disgraces, slanders, and lying imputations. And their hatred is of that strange nature, that it is dis­charged even against the goodness of the godly, their zeal, their forwardness in religion, their faithfulness in their calling, and the like, as against its proper object. You see then the fountain both of the greater floods of bloody persecutions, and the lesser streams of inferior vexations, as slanders, railings, and false imputations. To some particulars whereof now let us come:

            First, pride. It is most certain that pride truly so called, is the most pestilent opposite that grace has. And SATAN knows from his own experience, how to manage it with notable cunning; and he follows this weapon with such eagerness and confidence, that after it is broken upon the shield of faith, yet he labors with might and main to fasten some splinter or other, even in the soul humbled for sin. But I appeal unto the consciences of the children of GOD, whether many times the world does not interpret that to be pride in their actions and carriage, which is nothing else but a freedom of spirit, arising from a consciousness of their innocency, whereby they are enabled to stand with courage against the sins of the time, to support good causes with boldness, with reso­lution to defend a known and warrantable truth, and to prefer the salvation of their souls, before the gaining of the whole world.

            Secondly, hypocrisy is many times by the world laid to the charge of the children of God. The causes I con­ceive to be two: The first may be suspiciousness. I know there is a godly jealousy, but I mean that sus­picion, by which a man casts the worth, actions, and affections of another in his own mould, and thinks every man obnoxious to all the infirmities he finds in himself. Hence it is, that he who is truly an hypocrite, and never passed the perfection of the pharisee, most confidently brands the child of God with that name: hoping thereby to give some satisfaction to his own thoughts, that would gladly rest in formality; and notice to the world, that howsoever there may be pretences, yet indeed there is none better than himself. The second cause is disability, and blindness in the natural man, of discerning the operations of grace. For let a man be otherwise never so eminently qualified; yet without the experience of the power of godliness upon his own soui, he cannot see, he will not be persuaded of the actings of grace in another man; and therefore interprets them to be nothing but hypocrisy, to gain an opinion of more than ordinary piety.

            Thirdly, the formal hypocrite does settle himself with more resoluteness in his opinion of being in a state of grace, when he sees the world account the children of God but a company of fellows, who, out of a proud singularity, divide themselves from the common fashions and customs of the world; not considering, that if ever he means to save his soul, he must be singular too in holiness. This note of singularity, has in all ages been imputed to those, that with a good conscience have labored to keep themselves blameless and pure in the midst of a crooked generation. " Behold, (says Isaiah, chap. 8: vet.. 18,) I and the children whom the Lord has given me, are as signs and wonders in Israel." It had been no wonder, had they been only as signs and wonders amongst the enemies of GOD, and nations of uncircumcision; but that they should be signs and wonders in Israel! God had chosen him but one little vineyard amongst all the spacious forests of the earth; out of the glory of all the kingdoms of the world he had chose him but one handful of people; and yet in that vineyard, his faithful ones are but as the berries after the shaking of an olive-tree, two or three in the top of the utmost boughs, and four or five in the high branches. In that little people, his children are but as the first fruits. So that even in Israel, they are become as monsters and spectacles of amazement. So it is indeed, that a man drawn out of the darkness of this world, is like a star new-created in the sky, that draws all the world to gaze upon it. Nay, and he draws not only the eyes of men upon him, but is an eye-sore unto them. For thus speak the wicked of the righteous man, Wisd. 2: 15, 16, " It grieveth us also to look upon him, for his life is not like other men's: his ways are of another fashion. He counteth us as bastards, and he withdraweth himself from our ways as from filthiness."

            Fourthly, the formal hypocrite is well pleased with his present state, and very unwilling to go farther; because it is commonly thought, that the state of a true Christian is a life full of uncomfortableness, austerity, and sadness. The heart of man is naturally greedy of joy, and is either weakly or- strongly refreshed, according to the vanity or soundness of the comfort in which it reposeth, but it must either enjoy it in some kind, or it will consume itself. Hence it is, that those who want spiritual joy, arising from the testimony of a good conscience, from an assurance of -remission of sins and the favor of GOD, hunt after worldly contentments. At home in their own hearts they find little comfort, and therefore they seek to refresh themselves amid their treasures, honors, and sports, at plays, in taverns, with merry company, and many other miserable comforters; nay, they had rather be necessarily employed than solitary, not so much to avoid idleness, as bitings of conscience. Yea, some had rather cease to be men, than that their consciences should awake upon them; and therefore they labor to keep them asleep, and to drown sorrow for sin, with pouring in of strong drink. But let them look to it, though it go down pleasantly, yet secretly it sharpens the sting of the worm that never dies. " In the end, (says Solomon,) it will bite like a serpent, and hurt like a cockatrice."

            Because the children of God do not pursue this worldly joy, they are all esteemed melancholy men. But I marvel when, or with what eyes the worldlings look upon the faithful Christian! It may be, while he is yet in the travel of his new-birth, and humbled under the mighty hand of God. If so, then they should know, that these men must mourn for their sins, as one that mourneth for his only son; and be sorry for them, as one is sorry for the death of his first-born. There must be in him a great mourning, as the mourning of Hadadrimmon, in the valley of Megiddo. And this sorrow is a blessed sorrow, for it brings forth immortality. And either themselves must have a part in it, or they shall never be made par-takers of the fullness of joy at God's right hand. But it may be the worldlings take notice even of the best state of the child of GOD, and yet can see nothing therein but uncomfortable strictness. But then I must tell them, they look only upon him with carnal eyes, and deceive themselves. If they were able, with enlightened eyes, to pierce into the inward parts of God's child, they would see within, hope already feasting upon the joys of eternity; they would see faith holding fast the writings, by which the kingdom of heaven is conveyed unto his soul, sealed with the precious blood of the Son of God. They would see the white stone, mentioned in the Reve­lation, wherein there is a new name written, which no man knows, saving he that receiveth it. Whence springeth such a strong comfort, in) the affairs of heaven, that no sword of the tyrant, no flame of cruelty, nor the, combination of heaven and earth shall ever be able to amaze, abate, or extinguish.

            I come now to the third reason, whereby the formal hypocrite cdoes falsely persuade himself to be in the state of true happiness; and that is, outward success in worldly matters, much plenty and prosperity. But let him, that thus infers the happiness of his soul from his worldly prosperity, know and consider, that as the end and reward of the godly and wicked is different in place and nature; (the one being the highest heavens, and the highest advancement of the soul, to the fullness of glory and bliss; the other the lowest hell, and the very ex­tremity of the greatest miseries and vexations:) so ex­perience of all times teacheth us, that there is usually a contrary manner of passage to these ends. The wicked easily run up all the golden steps of honors and prefer­ments; but upon the highest stair they find the most slippery standing, and the top of their earthly felicity is the most immediate downfall. They are royally mounted here on earth, and gallop swiftly over the fair plains of plenty and pleasures; but at the end of their race, they are overturned horse and man, and tumbled headlong into the pit of destruction. They fairly glide over the sea of this world with full sail, with much calmness and serenity; but in the brightest sunshine, and when they least suspect it, they suddenly, and without recovery, sink into the gulf of darkness and desolation. But it is otherwise with the children of GOD, for they, many times, in this their pilgrimage, stick fast in the miry clay of poverty and contempt; they have persecutors which are swifter than the eagles of heaven, who pursue and hunt them upon the mountains, and lurk for them in the wilderness, as those that he in wait for blood. And besides the vexations from the world, the immediate malice of hell raiseth many tempests of temptation against them, and sometimes all the waves and floods of God himself go over their heads. This is the way of God's children in this world; but joy comes in the morning: their end is peace, their reward is as a bright morning-star, their haven is endless happiness, and life eternal.

            The fourth reason, whereby the formal hypocrite cdoes persuade himself that he is in the state of salvation, is, a misconceit of God's justice, and extending of his mercy beyond his truth and promise; so making the way to heaven broader than the Scripture has made it, and himself more blessed than he is indeed. Man's heart is naturally poisoned with pride and hypocrisy, and therefore is hardly drawn heartily to acknowledge the horrible ugliness of sin; or that GOD, proceeding against it with such weight of vengeance, is equal. Hence comes much indulgence to, and partial censuring of our own sins, trans­ferring them upon allurements, occasions, circumstances, necessity, and the like; much lessening and impairing God's justice, but amplifying his mercies, even to the securing of unwarrantable courses. Adam, immediately after the fall, shifteth off his sin upon his wife; nay, he is so blind in his spiritual judgment of Divine purity, that rather than he will cry guilty, he will fasten the fault by consequence upon God himself: "The woman, (says he,) which you gayest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat." So gladly would sensual men persuade themselves, that either their sins deserve not such punishment, or that God does exercise too much rigor in inflicting it. But I would have these men know, that though the sea of God's mercy be bottomless, though the promises of grace be many and precious; yet not one drop of all that great sea, not one jot of all those gracious promises belongs to any, save only unto him, that groans and sighs under the heavy weight and burden of his sins; that is of a broken and contrite heart, that trembles at his word, that undissembledly sorrows and repents of all his sins, forsakes them, and resigns up himself in holy obedience to all his command­ments. I would have them know, that he is infinitely just, as he is infinitely merciful; and will as certainly pour all the plagues and curses in his book upon the impenitent sinner, as he will perform all his promises to the faithful Christian.

            The fifth reason whereby the formal hypocrite is kept short of the state of grace, may be this. When by some good motion of God's Spirit, stirred up in him by the preaching of the word, he begins to set himself to a faithful course of true holiness, he presently meets with strong opposition by his own inward corruptions, by temptations of SATAN, and vexations from the world; which he perceiving, persuades himself, that the passage to grace cannot be so rough and boisterous; and there-fore retires and reposeth himself upon his formal Christianity, as the best state he sees any possibility of attaining unto. But if he will save his soul, he must acknowledge and feel, by his own experience, the truth of that saying of Isaiah lix. 15, " He that refraineth from evil, maketh himself a prey." For what child of God is there truly converted, who at the very first step out of the world, met not with. many crosses and discouragements? He knows, and may remember full well, whosoever he be, how his own flesh fretted when it felt itself curbed by the law of the Spirit; how by making conscience of sin, he laid himself open to the advantages, wrongs, and insults of his enemies; how the companions of his former lewdness and iniquity railed and raged against him. And SATAN, that he may give vigor to all these vexations, busily bestirs himself to hinder our conversion. While a prisoner lies in a dungeon fast in fetters, the jailor is quiet and secure; but if he once knock off his bolts, break the prison, and escape, there is presently a tumul­tuous clamor in the house, and the country is raised. Even so, while we he quietly in sin, under the chains of eternal death, SATAN neither disquiets himself nor us: but if, by the mercies of GOD, we be once enlarged, and set foot into the liberty and light of grace; then all the powers of hell are presently in arms, and with much fury the instruments of darkness are set on foot to regain us into his kingdom.

            Thus I have laid open unto you the state of formal hypocrisy: in which may concur immunity from noto­rious sins, all natural and moral perfections, admirable variety of learning, policy, and all other acquired orna­ments of the mind: an outward performance of all duties of religion, some measure of inward illumination, re-semblance, and shadow of the whole body of true rege­neration, and a persuasion of being in a state of grace. Even thus far a man may go in the profession of the Christian religion, and yet be a stranger to the power of faith, and the life of godliness. I now come, by reasons and arguments, to prove that it cannot challenge any interest in the true happiness of man; and to show that a

performance of the outward duties of religion, without the power of grace upon the soul, and an universal sanctification in all the faculties thereof, cannot produce any sound comfort in the heart, or acceptance with GOD, there needs only that principle received with all divines.

One evil circumstance maketh an action evil: but the goodness of all circumstances is required to make a work acceptable to God. The end must be good; the action itself just and warrantable; the means lawful, the heart sincere and sanctified. If this last especially be wanting, though otherwise it be never so glorious, of never so goodly a show to the eyes of the world; yet it is not only marred, but odious and abominable in the sight of God. For besides the outward performances, God requires sin­cerity of heart, and truth in the inward parts, to make them gracious and acceptable. And howsoever otherwise we may purchase a name amongst men, prosperity in the world, some less torments in hell, and procure good unto others; yet except they proceed from a faith unfeigned, and a pure conscience, to the Christians themselves, in respect of heavenly happiness, they are fruitless and un­profitable.

            Let this then be the conclusion of this point: though a man were a moral saint, absolute in all other perfec­tions; yet without the inward power of grace to give them life, he is but a spectacle of commisseration to angels, and to men. As a cunning organist, skilful in, the outward touch of his instrument, yet without wind inspired cannot possibly strike the ear, or please the heart with any melodious noise; so though a man's actions be flourished over with a fair tincture of outward religiousness, and he be exact in moral honesty; yet without the breath of life and grace infused, there can be no true spiritual harmony in his affections, words, or conversation, that either will beget any spiritual delight in the soul, or be pleasing to the ears of God. You sec then, beloved in CHRIST JESUS, that the performance of outward duties of religion, even the best, such as arc prayers, hearing the Word of GOD, receiving the sacra­ments, alms-deeds, and the like, though they be good in themselves, commanded of GOD, necessary to be done of every Christian; yet if they be divided from inward sanctification, are so far from putting us into possession of true happiness, that they arc odious and abominable in the sight of God.

            I come now to those marks of difference between the state of formal hypocrisy and saving grace, which are more outward, familiar, and easily discernible. Of which one may be this.

            1. The power of grace does beget in a regenerate man, a watchfulness, care, and conscience of smaller offences, of secret sins, of sinful thoughts, of appearances of evil, of all occasions of sin, of profane company, of giving just offence in different actions. Whereas the formal

hypocrite taketh not such things as these to heart, but either makes no conscience of them at all, holding it a point of preciseness; or else proportions it to serve his own turn, or to give satisfaction to others.

            A second mark of difference may be this: the power of saving grace does subdue and sanctify our affections, so that they become serviceable to the glory of GOD, and a zealous discharge of all Christian duties. But the bridling of passions in formal hypocrites, is not so much of conscience, as artificial, politic, for advantage, and by the guidance of moral discretion: so that if they be tempted by strong occasions, and violent objects, they many times break out, to the dishonor of GOD, the dis­grace of the Christian profession, and the discovery of their hypocrisy. Let every man then examine himself by this mark,.and, with a single eye and upright heart, take a view of his affections; whether his joy be inward and spiritual, that is, in the assurance of God's favor, in his word, in his children, in prayer, and a continual practice of godliness; or outward and carnal, that is, in- the attainment of greatness and worldly pleasures, in the increase of his corn, and wine, and oil. Whether he love peace of conscience far more dearly than the favor of men, or his own life: whether he be more zealous for the honor of GOD, than his own: whether he be more afraid of secret sins, than open shame: of offending God than outward afflictions: and so throughout the rest of his affections.

            A third note of difference may be this. Every child of GOD, by the power of saving grace, does hunger and thirst after all those means God has ordained, for his furtherance in the way to heaven; and does make a holy use of whatsoever is publicly or privately laid upon him for his amendment. And therefore he continually profits and proceeds in sanctification by God's word, his judg­ments and his mercies: by the exercise, observation, and sense of which, he grows sensibly in knowledge, faith, humiliation, repentance, thankfulness, and all other spiri­tual graces. But the formal hypocrite cdoes so far take notice of them, as they further his temporal happiness; and as his neglect of them, by consequence, threateneth danger to his outward worldly state. For the present, perhaps he is moved with the hearing of the word of GOD, with the terror of his judgments, while they he with some extraordinary weight upon himself, or the whole land; and with the sweetness of his mercies,

because they secure him in his prosperity. But these things sink not into his soul, with the power of mortifi­cation, to the destroying of his sinful affections, and the shaking off of every known sin.

            Beloved in our Lord and Savior CHRIST JESUS, let us, every one of us, (I beseech you,) try himself faithfully by this note of difference. And the rather, because our gracious God has most plentifully and incomparably vouchsafed us in this land all means to bring us unto heaven. He has visited us with his word, his and mercies, to the astonishment of the world judgment. Now let us consider, whether as they have bred admiration in men and angels; so they have brought salvation to our own souls.

            First, for his word. For these fifty years, you know he has spread out his hands all the day long; he has sent all his servants, the preachers of his word, rising up early, and sending them, saying, " Return now every man from his evil ways, and amend your works." Let us then examine ourselves in this point has this glorious gospel, which has so long shined bright in our eyes, and sounded loud in our ears, been mighty in operation upon our souls, in planting in them the power of true godliness? Do we daily grow more sound by it, in the knowledge of the truth; and see more particularly into the whole course of Christianity? Does it continually build us up more strongly in faith, repentance, and an holy obedience to all his commandments? Why then blessed is our case: for this powerful experience in our souls, of daily growth in godliness by the word, is a notable mark unto us, that we are in the state of grace; and so all the blessings in the book of God belong unto us, and pleasures more than the stars of the firmament in number. But if otherwise, (which is rather to be feared,) if we have either been no hearers, or but now and then, as our worldly commodities would give us leave; or hearers only of form and fashion, not of zeal and conscience to profit by it, and yi