Contemplations and Devotions

I. His bloody sweat in the Garden.

SWeat and blood are the two best emblems of labor and passion, of doing and suffering, and so, the best epitomes, or (if you will) iournals of our Savior's life and death; for both made up the travayles of his soul; the first he wrote in sweat, the other in blood: his life; what other was it then a continued sweat of passive action, He went about always doing good; his death, what, but as incessant a bloodshed of active passion? he poured out his soul to death, nor can we find any two things in nature that may better serve for the indexes, or rather seals, of those his two Testaments, then these two, sweat and blood; that of the Law, working out in sweat salvation with fear and trembling, that of the Gospel, buying it out with blood in price and value; in these two therefore doth he (here) begin his passion, it being to be the execution of both those Testaments; the complement of the one, and supplement of the other: nor is it without yet further mystery; in these two (Sweat and Blood) begins this our second Adams execution, because in these two (upon the matter) begins the first Adams sentence; the Sweat of his brows, whereby he must live the life; the blood of mortality, whereby he must die the death: and yet further, that man's ransom and ruin might hold yet a more thorough proportion, both are in a Garden, that as in a Garden man had played the wanton with God's bounty, so in a Garden too, this more then man might play the Champion with God's fury; it was in a Garden, that God sought man sold to the devil for an apple, Adam where art thou? and 'tis here in a Garden too, that men seek God sold by a devil, for as very a trifle: whom seek ye? Jesus of Nazareth. In each Garden we read of a drawn sword, in that by the Cherubim, in this, by Peter; that flames, but this wounds; that but menaces, but this maimes; what was in that Gardē but threatend to the first Adam, that was in this Garden suffered by the second; the difference is this, in that first Garden, the sword is still hostily brandished, a flaming sword that turned every way, in this second 'tis peaceably put up, Peter put up thy sword; so, nor shall the difference of these two Gardens be of less comfort then is their concord, though in that first Garden of Paradise, the sword still keeps the dispossessed posterity of Adam from ever (here) returning thither, we must first pass under the Angels sword, the stroke of death; yet to this latter Garden of redemption a better Paradise to us, we have free and safe access, no sword here threatens, no Angel keeps the door, he who is the Angel of the Covenant, both door of the Fold, and Keeper of the door, and that with that irresistible key of David, cries here, come unto me all, in a word, as at first in a Garden man was doomed by God, to earn his bread for life by his Sweat, so in a Garden here God earnes for man the bread of life by his Sweat too; nor is it of the brows only as that, but of the whole body, yea and soul too, the irons entered into his soul, nor ( that grace might every way superabound sins abounding, ) shall it be less then a Sweat of blood, that herein bloody murderous Cain might have bathed his purple soul as well as idle luxurious Adam his; here's for both, both, blood and sweat: and that in the strange abundance of a shoure; nor is it a dewie misty one, but of great drops running down through his clothes to the ground: but what? be the pleurisy never so great, how strange is the phlebotomy? it seems not to consult, or where the sign lies, or where the sickness: what the whole body at once? alas, the least drop of this blood thus dignified by that enriching interest of union: it hath with the God-head, were of price enough, had he so pleased, to have ransomed as many worlds of men, as there be men in this; here seems a better place, for Judas his quorsum haec perditio, whitherto tends this waste, why is he thus prodigal of his blood thus precious? why inuerts he so that prophesy of all nations flowing unto him, by thus profusely flowing at once to all nations: alas we had all of us sinned, and all of us against all the whole Law, in all the whole man: and therefore so full, so proportionate shall be the satisfaction, that he who is all in all and for all, will answereably bleed throughout all the whole body; nor will this our Elijah think, this his self-sacrifice once offered for all, complete enough, unless he first drench it in a flood of his own sweat and blood. But, nor is the cure less strange then the Physic: the Method then the Medicine; as it seems not to advise, where the sign lies, so nor where the sickness: 'twas we had surfeited, and doth he purge? Ours was the fever, and doth he bleed? oft times a bleeding in the head (Physicians say) is best stopped by striking a vein in the foot, but here the malady is in the foot, the remedy in the head: true, but the spiritual blood of Sin, holds a contrary course to that of the body, it flows upward against Heaven, the voice of thy brothers blood cries up to Heaven: therefore to cure that spiritual bloody Issue of the foot, sin, must the head thus bleed for it; must (I say) not out of any necessity on his side, more then that of his own decree and promise, all the necessity, at least the need, was ours. Saint Augustine gives the distinction best, that he was thus to bleed for us, (sai h he) it was on our side, miseranda n • c ssitas, on his but miserans voluntas, on ours a miserable necessity, on his but a commiserating mercy; and ye • so great will he have, both his mercy, and our sins, at once appear to us, that he will give us the measure of the ones merit in no less, then a shoure, of the others guilt in no less, then a Shoure of blood. If then in the midst of this Shoure, so plenteous, so precious, we be with Gideon's fleece, still dry, what else can we blame but our own incapacities of this heavenly rain, heres neither want of power, price, or plenty, a Shoure of blood, no nor of promise neither, he shall come down (says David) like the rain into a fleece of wool: here (in a more heavenly sense) is that rain of Heaven, that the land of promise drinks, that early and latter rain; early to the Patriarchs, latter to us: here's that dew of Hermon, that falls upon the Hill of Zion, such as with constant Zion cannot be removed; here is that Balm of Gilead, that only cures tht daughter of his people; the Ointment of Aaron, that runs down from this Head to the uttermost Skirts of his clothing, the meanest of his members; this blo • dy balmy Sweat, it here falls in a Garden, and indeed where ever, it falls in merit and effect 'tis sure to make, though of the barsennest wilderness of sin, a fruitful, a fragrant Garden of grace, that herb of grace cannot but grow in that Garden which this Shoure waters.

It had been much, where no outward violence was offered, nor labor sustained, specially in the cold time of night, so cold that hardier Soldiers were fain to have a Fire within doors; abroad too in the raw air, and on the cooler earth in any sort to have sweat at all: nor is it a thin faint Sweat, not sudor draphoreticus, (as Physicians speak) but grumosus, of great drops: and those so many, so violent, as they pierce not only his skin, but clothes too: and that in full streams to the ground, and yet may all this fall within the compass of a natural possibility, and much exceeds not the fury of a Fever, but a Sweat of blood, as it puts all time and story to seek for matter of example, so puts it nature and reason to silence too for matter of cause: might he not well then complain of his sweat, as of his sorrow, was there ever Sweat like unto this of mine? but, alas doth he not complain? yes, and 'tis that complain? of his (if it be possible let this Cup pass) that speaks his sorrow, his sufferings, yet more then either his sweat or blood; how much less is it for a man (in any sort) to sweat, to bleed, there for a God in the least to complain? 'tis not indeed for a man to conceive, what it is for a God to complain I will not therefore (with some) call this agony, the sleep of his divinity, so happily I should myself the while but sleep, and dream him such a God, as Baal, cry aloud, for it may be he sleepeth. Whereas he is the Keeper of Israel, who can nor slumber nor sleep. I dare not think (with Lumba • a ) any word, much less prayer of his, could proceed, ex impetu naturae sine imperio rationis, nor will I with others define either the causes of this Sweat, or the ingredients of that Cup, (for 'twas a mixed one ) so I might easily play the vn ust Steward and write fourscore for the hundred: no, rather let me call this passage with Isaiah, the travail of his soul, the passion of his passion, and conclude of the cause, why he did complain, with David, speaking of the cause why (in another case) he himself did not complain, I was dumb, and not opened my mouth: because 'twas thou O Lord that didst it; and might he not well complain, that God had sent his fire from above into his bones; how truly doth it here appear in Sweat: might he not well complain (in his type) that the Irons had entered into his soul, how truly doth it here appear in blood; how justly too might he complain, that his soul was poured out, both like Wax and like Water, here are the very streams or both, Blood, and Sweat. The spirit of a man, (says Solomon) may sustain his infirmities, but a wounded spirit who can bear, such was his: the arrows of God drank up his Spirit: and therefore how well might he say, thy terrors have I suffered with a troubled mind: and yet alas, all this 'tis but the beginning of sorrows, but the first approaches and offers of that Cup, which afterward he drank off, dregs and all to the last drop; but a serious and thoughtful pre-apprehension of what he was to suffer, nor doubtless could the dexterity and keenesse of that his apprehension, of what sin deserved, but much aggravate what he suffered; apprehension, if strong and active, ever gives edge, and sting to misery; 'tis the soundest body is ever most sensible of pain; fear still and feeling too, most what take m • assure from apprehension, never any man could so fully as he, apprehend the just cause of this fear, sins gu • lt: and therefore no marvel if never a • y did so fully feel the weight of this fear, sins horror: passions, of what kind soever, work ever strongest, on best known objects; the apprehensive expectation of an evil, is many times little less then the present sense; sudden vnseen evils afflict both slacker and shorter, and do but swallow without chewing; 'tis one of the miseries of being wise, that it arms misery against it self, and grinds it into a sharper edge; the edgetooles, which it lends misery to cut its own fingers with, are ever two, expectation, and apprehension; the first ever anticipates, the second exasperates the pain: hence is it, that men fear not hell, because their eyes of faith are not strong and apprehensive enough to foresee it; were that pit of darkness, where our sins are to suffer, but in any measure of its true horror (to the life, or rather to the death, and depth) laid open and displayed to our apprehensions, how would our knees tremble, and enterfeare with Baltazars; how would our Bowels burn with those disciples, and before hand without true repentance with Judas's gush cut, to break loose (if possible) from those fierce Furnaces of our anguished consciences: doubtless, no thorns, nor whips, nor nails drew blood from him with that torture, that the sight of this Cup here doth; it was those over-flowings of our ungodliness, that made him thus afraid: But O my blessed Lord and Savior, thou beganst thy passion in a sweat, let mine eyes (Lord) wait ever on thee, as the hand-maids on her mistress, and not begin their compassion, but in a Sweat too, a Sweat of sorrow and contrition: thine Lord was a bloody one, be mine so too, sanguis vulnerati cordis, otherwise as is praying but from the lips outward, so is weeping but from the eyes outward, either but the sacrifice of fools, but eye-service. O let me not apprehend what thou suffer'dst for me without sorrow, and compassion, when as thou thyself, Lord, didst not apprehend what I deserved from thee, without fear and horror. Blood (they say) whereas nothing else, can soften the Adamant; if my heart then do not soften, melt, bleed in all this so plenteous a Shoure, of this so precious blood, what should be left to melt such a heart, so much harder then the nether Milstone, but the Fire of Hell? But alas Lord, wilt thou not drink of the Cup, which thy Father gives thee? It is not possible, that this Cup pass from thee, unless it pass to me, and so (alas) Fire and Brimstone, Storm and Tempest, this will be my portion to drink, and my Cup will be full; No (Lord) I confess, I am not able to drink of this thy Cup, if thou leave but one drop for me, it will utterly cast me into that incurable Dropsy of Dives, after a despayred drop of water. No, give me rather here (Lord) with David, pl • n eousnesse of tears to drink, and so, may my Cup over-flow, and spare not, be thou but the portion of mine inheritance, and of my Cup; and so I shall be able to pledge thee in this Cup too, alayed, and sugared with thy mercy: so, spare me not from sweating with thee, and if need be from bleeding too, at least (with thy Apostle) let me never cease, both to sweat and bleed in that continual agony of his, the good fight, in that daily martyrdom of his mortification.

This fruitful Shoure (Lord) of thy blessed bloody Swear, as it fell in a Garden, so let it ever plentifully fall on the Garden of thy Church, send ever Lord this gracious rain on thine inheritance, to refresh it when 'tis weary: Let one drop (at least) of this so abundant, and everlasting Shoure, light on thy own inclosure: but (alas! in it self) a dry and barren wilderness, where no water is, my thorny, yet thirsty heart; so, yet, shall it become a fruitful, a fragrant Garden unto thee, 'tis thou (O Lord) that makest of the barrenest wilderness, a fruitful Field. Arise O North, and come O South, and blow on this Garden, that the spices thereof may flow, in those great slaughters of thy Murderers (O Lord) both at Jerusalem, and Bittere, wherein so fully, both to their own desert and wish, thy blood lay so heavily on them, and on their children: 'tis said the Romans found no such manurance for their Vines, and Gardens, as the blood of Jews; how much better (in a better sense) will thi • better blood of thine, be for this Vine, this Garden of my soul? How can there in this Garden, thus manured, thus watered, but grow those herbs of grace, the purging Hyssop of repentance, the ever green time of hope, fading, no not in the stormiest winter of adversity; the Cammomill of Patience, that grows the more 'tis trod on, the true Marigold of Faith, that shuts and opens to none but thee, the Sun of righteousness, the inclining stooping Violet of Humility, the embracing clasping Honysuckle of Charity, &c. How can it be (so dressed) but barren to the weeds of sinful pleasure, the Onions and Garlike of Egypt, let no Serpent (Lord) ever lurk in this Garden, to reach here any forbidden fruit, and so to over reach the eater; but as in that other Garden, where thou layest entomb'd, they had a Watch and Seal, wherewith to make all sure, that none might steal thee thence; so, in this Garden of my soul (Lord) having both, the Watch of conscience, and the Seal of faith, let me to a better purpose make all so sure, that nothing ever may steal thee hence; but that thou mayest ever say of it, as of thy Spouse, a Garden enclosed is my Sister, a Spring shut up, a Fountain sealed.

II. He is sold and betrayd by Judas.

MAiesty and mercy (in their more happy, then frequent mixture in one Throne) make up the strongest guard 'gainst treason. Majesty usually so benumbs, and strikes the hand with terror, that it cannot strike, the Kings eye scatters treason from his Throne: Mercy so becharmes, and strokes the heart with love, that it cannot plot, the Kings Throne is established by mercy; But the best Guard is that, which needs no Guard, innocence, and yet behold (here) a treason, that breaks through that double Guard of majesty, of mercy, and that more privy proofie maile of innocence it self too, if majesty might have daunted it, how must it have shruncke back its accursed head into abortion? 'tis he who commits no robbery, in making himself equal with God: And yet behold they come against him, as against a thief, a robber; if mercy might have shamed it, how had it sluncke back into that vault of darkness, whence it came to hide it; 'tis he who came to seek, to buy them with his blood, whose blood they have thus maliciously bought, and are now come thus murderously to seek; if innocence might have sheelded against these fiery darts of malice, let its own confession judge him, and it cannot but pronounce him true, a just man, one in whom prejudice it self can find no fault, one against whom envy it self can find no witness: and yet anger is cruel, and wrath is raging, but who can stand before envy; so prevaricatiuely froward, and vnwinnable is envy that ever (as the Psalmist speaks) what might be for her good, is to her an occasion of falling: majesty, mercy, innocence, make rather but a prey to invite, then a Guard to avoid her. But yet how ever, Judas, what couldest thou, envy in him; his glory, his purse, and his power too, 'twas thine, and made the devils themselves obedient to thee; had not thine then above the rest been a mercy-proof, a Spirit-despighting heart, it must needs have melted, or recoyld from so black a project; didst thou not cast out devils in his name, out of others? what, and now take in the devil into thine own heart, and cast out him? Thou once (with the rest) leavedst all to follow him, what and now leave him to follow the worst of that all thou haddest left, the devil; how unhappy, how unthrifty a change? No, but now thou art become a leader; how poor, how unworthy an ambition, to leave following such a Leader, that thou mightest lead such a raskall regiment. Thou dippedst thy hand in the same Dish of fellowship with him: what, and in the same design of blood too against him? Thou once followedst thy master, and barest the bag, and wilt thou now change both carriage and leader too: follow the bag and carry thy master in it, the siluerlings? Thou barest the bag, and what was put therein: and therefore thy old, quorsum haec perditio, may be turned back upon thee into a quorsum haec proditio, whitherto tends this treason? want drave thee not to this traitorous sale, as it did (in some sort) hungry Esau, thou hadst the bag, or had that been empty, thou mightest have gone to thy masters other treasury, the fishes mouth for money; the bag, as it might some way incline thy covetous heart ( the Girdle of verity, for the most part drawing usually too much that way, that the bag hangs) so it doth every way upbraid thy traitorous sale, a rich man and a thief, 'tis a proverbial agravation: nor did therein thy masters trust, but the deeper engage thy truth; what didst thou see in those poor siluershrines of thy idolliz'd Diana, covetousness, worth such a master, thou neededst not this craft to get thy living by (as those Smiths of Ephesus ) thou hadst a much better in thy late service, hadst thou been of later days, I should have thought thee some popish Merchant of the Temple, one that had thought to make him a Savior of his silver, therewith to have bought a Pardon for this, and all thy other sins, but if so, the devil too seems a better chapman for thy turn, he had offered all the kingdoms of the earth for him, thou sellest him to the Jews, and thyself to the devil too in the bargain, but for thirty pence, thy master himself had not long since told thee, that the whole world were all too light in scale, but against thy one soul: but alas, to such a master, as many worlds as thou hadst pence, Isaiah had told thee, they were all but as the dust of the scales, as a drop of the Bucket, thou se • lest thy master to his death, that would have sold himself • for thy life, thou betrayest him unto his enemies for thy gain, that would have rescued thee from thine with his blood. But is this all? No, thou sellest that invaluable pearl, which the wise Merchant sold all he had to buy, and that for a needless, a useless trifle; and this makes thy treachery folly, thy gain loss, thy avarice unthriftiness; who, Judas unthrifty, that would make money of all, of the ointment of his master, nay by by a Popish kind of Alchimy, of his God? yes, unthrifty, banckrupted, beggared Judas: how quickly without either master or money, how useless, how restless is either thy money or thyself, without • hy master, how soon art thou as weary of it, as ever • hou wert greedy? How much more (anon) weary of it, then of thy master? How much more doth it now upbraid thee, then ever before invite thee? can it buy thee such another master, can it all buy thee an hours sleep, can it bribe thy clamorous tongue of conscience, to a minuts silence? Nay, it will no • so much as buy thee a haltar, to put a false promising end to thy present miseries, though thou couldest not miss of one else where, to put a true beginning to thy greater tortures; but as if i • were doomed only to the hands of murder, it will nowhere but whence it came as if it took an accursed infection from the fingers it passed through, it may not into the Sanctuary, but must be ever the price of blood: nor hath it but ever since left this infectious cankar to all ill gotten wealth, 'tis all quick silver, it will not stay, it will not enrich, it buys nothing, but Aceldama's, fields of blood, and of confusion, so truly treacherous prove ever the worldlings, not only hopes, bu • heaps: Judas did not so much betray his first master Jesus, as this his second master, money, did betray Judas; Judas betrayed his master, but into the hands of malice, but gain betrayed Judas into the haltar of despair; coueteousnesse proves ever in the end most its own traitor; desire, and hope are still but Bawds, when towards that painted Strumpet, the world: But I cannot so pass (Judas) the baseness of thy sale, or blackness of thy treason, what, but for thirty pence: didst thou not value the Box of ointment at three hundred pence, what and thy master but at thirty? was the woman's ointment so much more worth then the Lord's anointed? couldst thou then hold it lost, that was bestowed upon thy master, or if thou didst, hadst thou no way to redeem that loss, but by selling the Redeemer? But no marvel, if (when thou once beganst to grudge thy master, ano • hers charity) thou didst not at length stick to sell him, for thine own gain; he that holds that waste, which is bestowed on God, his service or members, 'tis to be seared, he would fell his God too; but that the world affords but a few chapmen in such a purchase; and yet how much, yet cheaper, viler art thou, in the offer then the price? what will ye give me, as if the commodity lay upon thy hands, as if thy master were some piece of vnfashionable Shop-rid ware, which thou wouldest fain be rid of at any hand; never fell there such a jewel into the hands of such a Pedler, that so basely way-lays Customers, and prostitutes at once, both his will, and ware with, what will ye give? and I will, &c. And then no sooner an offer, but a price, no sooner a price, but a sale, no sooner a sale, but a delivery; how soon strikes he it up a bargain? and as if he were yet afraid they might draw back, that he may be yet more sure, to put all beyond the benefit of error or mistake, he gives them a sign, whomsoever I shall kiss, that's he, lay hold of him.

It had been sometime our Savior's complaint: Simon since I came, thou gavest me no kiss; but can he find that fault with this son of Simon. He draws near and kisses him. But alas 'tis but with the lips he draws near him, the heart is far from him, and so better he had with Peter, followed him a far off, or with the Prodigal, gone far from him. Nay, had it been against him, if openly (as Paul at first) he himself says, he could more easily have borne it: no, but it was thou my own familiar friend, whom I trusted, which did also eat of my bread, that hath laid great wait for me: what, Judas betrayest thou the Son of man? what thou, my companion, my choice, my charge, my trust, my treasurer: what and betrayest thou the Son of man, thy friend, thy master, thy God, one who; though the Son of God, stuck not to become the Son of man to live with thee, & for ought thou knowest to die for thee, what, and with a kiss, the pledge of friendship, made the gin of falsehood; loves gage become treasons snare; every word is a degree in treason, and both upbraids the deed, and brands the Doer, the price, the offer, the instrument, the Author, the subject, do each of them swell, and heighten the treason still to a greater measure, or rather mystery of iniquity: did he among the rest of the Apostles, wash his feet too, what and presently so nimble in the devils errand, so swift to shed blood? The outward act (I see) then of one, greater then a popish Priest, confers no grace at all; Judas that hath his feet washd, hath yet his hand, his heart in blood. How far doth hypocrisy (often times) go with, yet short of truth in piety. David will draw near unto the Lord, & so doth Judas, David will kiss the Son, least he be angry, and so doth Judas, Judas hath his hail, as well as David his haleluiah; I have sinned is David's confession, after that his sinful arithmetike, and I have sinned, 'tis Judas his confession too, after this his accursed treason; the one yet lays hold on the Altar, the other on the Haltar, 'tis not the tongue nor hand, 'tis the heart that seasons devotion; nay how far in the outward offices of piety doth hypocrisy out-do the truth it self; doth Mary think it much to kiss his feet, that other woman to touch but the hem of his garment: but Judas will go on to touch, to kiss his lips, and that with a hail of gratulation in his mouth, though there be a Hell of treason in his heart: Comets blaze more a while then fixed Stars, the vnfruited Bough mostly hath the most leafes. How stupid too, how sottish is hypocrisy, evē in the wisest worldling? Else, how could Judas, having harbor'd such a purpose, but easily conceive, how easily his master would perceive this devil of treason, though under the likest outside of an Angel of light, he chose indeed the fittest time the night; but alas! what, what is the darkest night to those eyes, to which the darkness and light are both alike, the darker night was in his heart, yet, nor is that a veil to • hose eyes of his, whose faculty is To search the heart it self, and can see into Pharaoh's, more inscrutable hardened heart, through that double cloud of Egypt's darkness, and its own: with such over-reaching folly, doth God usually punish hypocrisies, overweening fraud, that from first deceiving the world, but most it self, God suffers it to go on at length, to fool it self into a hope of deceiving him too, hast thou not taught in our streets, and have we not in thy name done miracles, and cast out devils; shall be the hypocrites plea, as if they might possibly deceive God, as they had done men: as if the kingdom of Heaven would suffer cousanage, as well as violence, no, the heart (indeed) is deceitful above all things, and towards all things, save only him who made it: gifts may blind the eyes of the wise, and he that gathereth gain, and not by right, he shall leave it ere he dies, and at his end shall be a fool (as it fares with Judas, here) with God 'tis otherwise, he cannot be either blinded with guile, or bribed with gifts; as he hath his Throne in Heaven, so he hath his Theater in the heart, where happily he may be sometimes unseen, but never vnseeing.

And now his master is sold, how well may he cry out with Reuben, when they had sold Joseph, as for me whither shall I go? Go he to them that put him a work, they (with a careless, what is that to us, see thou to that ) send him to the Sanctuary of those his silver God's, his hire, that will not steed him neither, he is now more weary of it, then ever greedy, more weary of it, then of his master, that leaves him too; but 'tis to one, who will be sure never to leave him, the devil, nor is he willing to stay long for him, (no more then he for his hire) but how soon (as Jael to Sisera ) iuggler-like doth he change hands from the milk, to the ham •• r from the hire, to the 〈◊〉 , and that leads him to his own place: Where if that the punishment of loss be the greater of the two (as Divines are of opinion) then how can his be but the greatest of all other? to see his sometimes fellow Apostles on their seats, judging the twelve Tribes of Israel, and himself among his now fellow devils, trembling at the Barre; to hear his master, who once so kindly gave him the Sop, and washed his feet, now giving him his sentence to be bound hands and feet, and cast into utter darkness, to see those devils, which before he had power to cast out, now to have power to cast him into endless torments, where to leave him as his proper place. Let us cast (at least) a glance of gratulation at our blessed Savior's victorious patience, even in this passage of his passion, whereof what fuller heartier proof, then that difference of language, which he uses to those his two Apostles, Peter and Judas, Peters compassionate pity, because it looked with a more tender eye towards his masters life, then man's redemption; him he calls devil for it, get thee behind me Satan, thou savorest not the things of God, but man, whereas Judas his treason, though savoring the things of neither God, nor man, but all devil, yet because it carried though an unwitting bent to man's purposd redemptiō, and that though through so much blood and torment, yet doth he call him friend: friend wherefore art thou come, and refuses neither his complement, nor kiss; so well might his Spouse say, that he came skipping on the hills, and leaping on the mountains, 'tis not the lesser hills of his enemies malice, nor the greater mountains of his fathers wrath can stop him, but that as a Giant, he will rejoice to run his course, though of blood and death; and that with such alacrity and swiftness, that even Judas, who no doubt made no small haste, for (as they say) the devil drave him: yet him doth he seem to tax of sloth, what thou doest do quickly. But, O my blessed Savior, the ransom of my soul, the price of my salvation, how infinitely a greater price did my poor wretched worthless soul cost, that was but a lost Great, not worth the sweeping for, a mite scarce worth the casting into thy treasury, then did thine own inestimable self, who art the treasury it self, the treasuries of wisdom? was not I bought under the stock of Heaven, and wouldest thou be bought with a few crumms of earth; well mightest thou call it (in way of ironie) a goodly price that thou wert prized at: but how well mightest thou say of us; ye are bought with a great price; how truly mightest thou call us, a dear, a precious people? And yet (alas) how far art thou from grudging to us, even this, thy so much vnderualued cheapness? (would we buy, buy thee but the right way, so far, that thou becomest to us thine own, yet cheaper Merchant, and Cryer too. Hoe ye that pass by, come and buy without money. David (Lord) then needs not much complain, that thou sellest thy people for naught, and takest no money for them; when as thou settest no higher price upon thyself; and yet how infinitely hast thou improved this thy so much misualued sale, to a ransom great enough for the whole world: how mercifully hast thou entitled me (Lord) who was sold under sin, to this enriching sale and purchase of thy invaluable self: and made the Jews and Judas in it, but my unwitting unthrifty Factors, and me the happy gainer, by this their vndoeing bargain? And yet alas, Lord do I not still (with Judas ) sell thee, still betray thee? if thou be (as thine Apostle calls thee) love, incharitable avarice still sels thee; if thou be, as thou callest thyself, truth, false hypocrisy still betrays thee, when I make gain my godliness, I must confess (Lord) I sell thee; when I make godliness but my gain & worldly advantage, then I must confess, I do but betray thee. O let me never, though (with Judas ) betray as well thy mercy by despair, as thy truth by hypocrisy: But as when I had sold myself under sin, thou didst mercifully redeem me by thy blood, and merit; so grant (Lord) that when ever I shall sell thee for sin, I may as often redeem, regain thee by my faith, and repentance: had Judas himself but found them, he had found thee, and not lost himself: he did not sin, no not wrong thee so much by betraying thee (Lord) as himself to death; nor his kiss, nor hail, did so much betray, as his either hire or haltar: his despair more betrayed himself, than his treason thee, and that of a better life unto a worse death, and no marvel, for treason ever in the end proves more the Traitors, then the trusters Traitor.

III. He is apprehended in the Garden, and thence led bound to the high Priests Hall.

IVdas will now no longer be a Follower but a Leader, though he get but a Leiftenants place to the devil by the change; behold while he yet spake, a company, and he that was called Judas, went before them: and now how soon (as David speaks) are his soft words, become very swords, they are come with swords, and staves to take him; so truly doth Judas his kiss, prove one of Joab's, in the end, a Stab, and that under the fifth Rib too; so prophetical was that Proverb of Solomon's, the kiss of an enemy, is worse then the wound of a friend: when he was kissed, he complains, Judas betrayest thou, &c. But when he was wounded for us, by us, he was dumb, and opened not his mouth. Israel had long before been too busy, in borrowing the Philistines religion, and now it seems they will make bold with their policy too, their old policy, of plowing against Sampson, with his own Heifer, his own familiar friend (as our Savior himself complains) like an untamed Heifer hath lifted up the heel against him; Sampson, the true Nazarite, is here again taken, bound, abused, blind-folded: innocent Susanna (in resemblance, if not tipe) is here once again by the envious Elders, bathing in a bloody sweat, surprisd in the Garden, yet not without some instance of that ever victorious self-armed majesty of innocence, as of the heart-less self-betraying cowardice of guilt, with the least glimpse of which majesty struck too, through that thick Cloud of his now faint agoniz'd yielding, forsaken poverty; how are they all with a breath, a word, a meek one. I am he, struck all back flat on the ground. And worthily O Lord are they turned backward and put to confusion, that seek to do thee evil, but doth not old Eli fall back and break his neck, at the taking of the Ark of God? and do these fall and rise again, that come thus bloodily to take the God of that Ark? the Ark of the Covenant? Here me thinks a rapture of devotion might take leave to chide a while with the earth it self, that did interpose, and not cleave a sunder to give way for such murderous miscreants, to drop down quick to hell it self, (as David seems to wish) whence they first took their accursed errand; why should it be more kind to these, then before to Corah, and his accomplices, why should it not now (as then) be ashamed of, and so swallow up quick such a viperous reproachful brood of hers, from the upbraiding light; not staying, as then, their burial till their death, they mutinied but against Moses: But behold a greater then Moses is here, one who is not comprehended by the Heaven of Heavens, and yet how malefactor-like apprehended by the worst, the very hell of earth, one before whom the Elders of Heaven cast down their crowns, gainst whom, though how bloodily do these sons of earth lift up their Swords? He that binds even Kings themselves in chains, and Princes with links of iron: how ba • barously is he here himself, bound and led away in cords of thralldom to death, and torture? he that leads Joseph like a Sheep, be side the waters of comfort, is (here) led himself like a Sheep to the slaughter, and that into what floods of blood and torments here, • ho would not have prayed (with David) Let the s • ntence of guiltiness proceed against them: and now that they lie down, let them ris • up no more, let death come hastily upon them, and let them go down quick into hell. What would flesh and blood in such a case have consulted with, but fire and sword, storm and tempest? here had been a far fitter place (in the eye of flesh:) for some of Elijah's fire from Heaven, to have consumed from off the earth, this traitorous Captain with his forces, to have made but one entire Holocaust of them all, to that their bloody fiery God Molech; no, but he is not of • hat fiery Spirit, his Miracles hey shall all speak his mercy, not one his fury; he is still (notwithstanding all heir worst of malice) not of Elijah's Spirit, but (as he • sometime was) in Elijah's vision, not in the fire or whirlwind, or earthquake; but in a soft and gentle voice. Friend wherefore art thou come, I taught daily in the Temple, and are ye now come with swords, &c. How much better then David, could he have defied ten thousands, had they hemm'd him in: 'twas from him, that David had both that confidence, and that defense: how easi • y could he (as he speaks himself) have comma • ded a Guard o • more then twelve legions of Angels, and how easily one A • gell armed with his command, could destroy an host of men, Zenacheribs story wileasily confess? But how then shall the Scriptures be full • illed, which had said; he shall be led as a Sheep to the slaughter, and as a Lamb dumb before the Shearers. Triumph not then, ye black Guard of hell, of this your redeeming conquering captive; for did not his own love to man, and man's debt to the Law, thus arrest, mannackle, lead him more then your, but now prost • ate, not word-proof forces, how much easier thē Sampson, could this Nazarite have broken your Philistine cords asunder: how easily could he have done by you, what you had falsely bragd gainst him: have broken your bonds asunder, and cast away your cords from him; as easily with a word, have thrown ye back into earth again, as he had with award, either first made ye of it, or now thrown ye back upon it. But if not Elijah's fire, yet in so just a quarrel, let Peter at least strike with the Sworde: thou thyself (Lord) hadst but now asked for swords, and at that late muster of thy Apostles, hadst thought two enough, and yet now but one is drawn, and that's too many: even Malchus, his enemies Eare shall prove the cong • uence of that his own style, a Restorer and not a Destroyer, the heart deserved the blow, it falls but on the ear, and is that one blow too much, though in such a reskue? one ear too great a loss, though for such an Enemy? yes, • eter is bound and threatend to the peace, by this eternal Peace-maker: put up thy sword, he that strikes with the sword, shall perish by it. Who would not here have expected rather an allarme, • hen this so yielding a retreat; nay a rest • ain • ? had his pretended Vicar been here in his steed, what fire, and blood, and slaughter, had the quarrel cost? how had Earth, Hell, and Purgatory, all three (in right of that his triple Crown) been pressed to the service? me thinks I hear him upon the least pretence of such a cause, crying fight on Peter, thou canst never fight in a better quarrel, God is with thee: what matter who, or how many be against thee? thou said'st, thou wouldst die with me, now show thyself a man, both of thy word, and hands at once, now arise Peter, kill and devour; have I not set thee over the nations and kingdoms, to root, pull down, and destroy? Art not thou that Stone, which on whomsoever it falls, it shall grind to powder? here's no such ma • ter, God's ways are not, as man's ways, He therefore will not strike, lest he loose the victory, he came not to fight, but to conquer, and his weapon, 'tis not the Sword, but the Cross, he will therefore only let men see that (at strongest) they are but men, while his enemies therefore are driven back, they shall but fall, not perish at his presence: But that they may know withal, that he is that true Lion of the tribe of Judah; thus magnanimously will he spare the prostrate; let that his pretended Vicar trample on the necks of yielding Emperors, heell not pursue, no not these his insultant Foes beyond a fall. But what, did that blow that struck off Malchus his ear, strike out all their eyes too; else how could they see such a fall, such a cure, and not believe the Omnipotence, of that tongue and hand, that wrought them; he that could thus with a word strike them back upon the earth, how could they think, but that it was the same that (as Isaiah had told them) should one day smite the earth it self with the rod of his mouth, and that could with the breath of his lips, slay the wicked; how could they but believe those hands, able to reskue themselves, that could so with a touch restore his ear? how much easier had it ben to wound, then so to cure? But that gain & malice had wrought their hearts into a temper proof against the proof of miracles themselves, either of them, we see can do it. Gaine in the Gadderens; Envy in the Pharisees, they see their Swine drownd by those furious, yet to him both yielding and entreating devils, and yet besought they him to depart their Coasts. Those see Lazarus raised by him, out of the Insatiate, yet to him the yielding grave, and yet gather they immediately a Council, & conclude. If we let him thus alone, all will believe in him: God only keeps the key of the heart, where he locks, 'tis not in the power of miracle to open; the secret of the Lord is among them only that fear him, and to the mccke only, he will sh • w his ways; 'tis not to all, no not to all that see them; 'tis he only that opens that eye, that can see the wondrous things of his law. But O my blessed Lord and Savior, that art the Lord of Hosts, and God of victory, that makest all thy Soldiers (in thee) more then Conquerers, and yet for me, becam'st here a Captive to thine own Captives; what means this sudden change (Lord) but now if it be possible may this Cup pass: And now again how willingly doest thou (in a sort) betray thyself into the hands of thy Murderers, with an, I am he whom ye seek, and again, if I be he, let these go their way, hadst thou any worse enemies then these (Lord) to encounter with? (Alas) yes, thy Fathers wrath was a Cup far more bitter, my sins enemies more dreadful, armed with worse weapons then these their swords, and staves; those irons entered into thy very Soul, these enemies of thine that here assault thee, cost thee not a word to resist, thou wentst dumb before these Shearers, and but a word to over throw, they went backward and fell to the ground, when the wicked came to eat up thy flesh, they stumbled and fell: But (alas) those other enemies of thine, of mine, my sins, how many words, and wounds, and drops, both of blood and sweat, how many groans, both of compassion and complaint did they cost thee? They were strong cries (says thy Apostle) thou offerdst up to him, who was able to deliver thee: Thy parents (O Lord) sought thee, and so did Herod too, and so do these thy Murderers: Herod sought thee in the multitude, these in the Garden, but thy parents in the Temple, it lies not then (Lord) I see so much in seeking thee, as in seeking thee aright: O let me seek thee then in thy Temple, thy house of Prayer, that place where thine honor dwelleth, not in the Garden of pleasurous sensuality, not in the multitude of popular cusstome: so I shall but seek thee, as Joseph did his brethren, until I loose myself; thine own parents while they sought thee in the multitude, found thee not, though they sought thee three days together, and that sorowing, and therein too how much appears the greatness of thy love, when thou wer • about thy Fathers business, and found though by thine own mother, thou answerest her with a how is it that ye sought me: But when thou wert about my business, and found though by thy Murderers, thou answerest with an, I am he whom ye seek, as if more glad to be found for my safety by thy Murderers, then for thine own by thy mother; thou carest not to loose thyself, that thou mightest find me. O let me not stick then, to leave, to loath, to loose myself in seeking thee, it is thine own way, as well in promise, as practice, he that will loose his life for my sake shall save it; let me not then with Peter, make flesh mine arm, or think a sword a defense enough to save me, but trusting rather to the arm, then the sword, where I dare not expect thine arm to guid it, let me not dare strike with the sword, lest I perish by it, without that arm of thine (Lord) Goliath's sword turns edge, and with it Saul's sword never returns empty; rather let Peter by the sword of the Spirit, thy word, cut off mine ear with Malchuses; when with his, it shall hearken to the counsel of the ungodly: And do thou (O Lord) restore it (as here) by the touch of thy grace, an ear inclined, and swift to hear, what thy Sp rit says unto the Churches, that I follow David's Lantern, and not Iudases, making thy word, and not the wages of iniquity, a Lantern to my feet, and a Light unto my path. But canst thou (Lord) bestow thy mercies, thy miracles on Malchus? and lay thy healing finger on him, who came to lay violent hands on thee? Why should I then so much more wrong thy mercy, by despairing, then by sinning, as to think that I can be so sinful, but that thou canst be much mo • e merciful, if I can be sorrowful? Is not thy mercy above all thy works, how much more then above all mine or the devils either in me? be my sins mountains, thy finger is able to remove them into that Sea of thy blood, thy hand is not shortened that it cannot save, nor is thine ear heavy that it will not hear; how much rather then will that hand bind up my broken heart, then restore that his contumacious ear? art thou still so miraculously merciful to one so murderously malicious, as to heal him, who came to wound thee? It lies not then I see in the sin, but in the Sinner, to shut out thy importunate mercy; 'tis his impenitence in the sin, not thy impatience at it, that excludes it, be it never so great, nor doth the mercy of this thy miracle, or rather the miracle of this thy mercy (for to such a one mercy it self had been a miracle) more, teach me faith and hope then art thou thus merciful to Malchus? Charity is then (I see) as infinite, as eternal, as boundless, as 'tis endless; as it (beyond both faith and hope) shall have no end, no not in heaven, so hath it no limits, neither here on earth; when Malchus his ear is restored by miracle: what enemy can hunger, that we may not feed, what injury, what enemy, what malice doth not the large arms of charity embrace? this is the virtue wherein I cannot press too near thee: I will not strive too much, to imitate thee, either in the face of thy majesty, with Lucifer, or brains of thy wisdom with Adam, or arm of thy power with Nebuchadnezzar, or finger of thy miracles with Magus, but in the bowels of thy mercy, those let me not spare to put on, to be merciful, as thou my heavenly father art merciful; of all other virtues, Charity hath no right hand, error's all her extreme, 'tis defect; what excess she hath, 'tis not in her own degrees, but her objects, faith overreaches, and hath credulity, as well as infidelity, and fo ha • h hope security, as well as despair; we read of being wise overmuch, and just overmuch too, but nowhere of being overmuch merciful, mercy hath no excess, but error.

IIII. He is forsaken by his Apostles, forsworn by Peter.

HOwever, yet friends, as they multiply and redouble Joy, so they divide and lessen misery, as in plenty of hearts, they mutually reflect the beams of the one, so in plurality of Shoulders, they refract the burdens of the other, his friendly, his faithful Apostles, then those companions of his life, of his choice, they (no question share with him, as in the glory of his miracles, so in the misery of his sufferings: no, he trod the wine press alone, and there was none to help him, yet if not partners with him, can they be less, then now Comforters to him in death, as before Companions in life? yes, I found none to comfort me, no none to pity me: or if Comforters, how well like Job's, miserable Comforters all, nay how much worse then Job's, his came to him from afar; but these run, if not so far, yet faster from him: They did not know Job on that dunghill of his misery: But these will not know him in this Dungeon of his Captivity. How well might he complain, that he came to his own, and his own would not know him, come he into the world, his own creatures, men, dignified not only by his own Image, at first, but now how much more in his assumption of theirs? how do they set at nothing this eternal word, that with a word of nothing, made them? He came into the world, and the world received him not. Come he to his own nation, the Jews, so much anciently obliged by his choice, renowned by his conquests, indeed by his more frequent, his more familiar revelations, so much that it contracted his style to (the God of Israel) But now yet further ennobled by his parentage, honored by his birth, influenc'd by his life, and doctrine, that will none of him neither, nor can it afford him better language, then a Glutton, a Winebibber, nay, a Blasphemer, Belzebub himself. Come he to his own province Galilee, and there too being a Prophet, he is disesteem'd in his own Country, is not this the Carpenters Son? And here not only is he upbraided of, but by that his poor kind • ed, Physician heal thyself. Come he to his own Jerusalem, so much enthroniz'd by his presence, enlightened by his Sermons, amazed by his miracles, bedewed with his tears. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I, &c. But thou wouldest not; is that all? no, here he is not only rejected, but traduced, and that of no less, then treason against Caesar, Sedition against the Law, Enmity against the Temple, Blasphemy against God. Come he yet nearer to his own Disciples, and many of them Demas -like, fall back to the love of this present world, which is enmity to him from that time; many (says the text) drew back and walked no more with him: But however, can his Apostles leave him too; they say no, master to whom should we go, thou hast the words of eternal life, and yet, like Jonah's Gourd; when the Sun beats hotest on, and there is most need, how soon are they all withered, vanished, one betrays him, another forsweares him, all forsake him. What his Apostles? that twelve-signed Zo • iake., wherein this Sun of righteousness, was to encompass the whole world with divine light, and heat? what and shaken with such a motion of trepidation, as thus exorbitantly, to wander with the inferior Planets, t • 'other wavering disc • ples? What the children of light, do they, to shun h • light it self, thus run into the dark? the truth it self seek corners, if the light it self become dark, how great is that darkness; If the Salt of the world grow unsavory, wherewith shall it be seasoned. Yet, if the world reject him, it doth but like it self, for (as himself speaks) it loves but its own, and I am not of the world; If the Jews hate him, 'tis but their old wont, of seeking to kill the Prophets, and to stone such as were sent unto them; If his countrymen and kindred slight him, 'tis no so great a wonder, for because of their unbelief, he • wrought not many wonders among them. If Jerusalem dishonor him, the wonder was • lready passed, how was the faithful City long since become an harlot? If the faith of those his weaker Capernaitish, loaf-led Disciples, faint for want of that staff of its life, bread, no marvel, for such comets blaze, no longer then they are fed: But if these fixed stars begin to fall from their Sphere, if these nails driven in a sure place, begin to start aside, like a broken Bow: If these Cedars of Libanon become such reeds shaken with the wind, let him that stands take heed lest he fall: what, his Apostles, those Secretaries of his mysteries to you it is given to know the secrets of the kingdom, without Parables. Those Stewards of his mercies, whose sins you forgive shall be forgiven, those almners of his bounties, those joint-work • s with him of his miracles, what and now fugitive desolators of his miseries? had they not all promised never to forsake him, what and so soon fly him before they know, either his occasion, or their own danger? can they so deny their own words, nay, can they so deny the eternal word, had they not seen him raise Lazarus and ohers, out of the hands of death it self to life, and could they think he could not easier release them to liberty, or preserve them to life, from this weaker band of these already word-foild soldiers; had he not warned them before of his being thus delivered into the hands of men; they might have poorly pleaded the sudden surprizing strangnesse of the accident, but he tells them plainly what to trust to, thus must the Son of man be delivered, and he tells them too, that he had told them it before: Behold, I have told you before, and had called Peter, Devil, for his master spare thyself: was their faith but now so strong as to cast out spirits, and is not their love now so true, as to cast out this weak spirit, this Ghost of fear? True love (says one of them) casteth out fear; love is strong as death (says Solomon ) but alas, here how soon doth the least glimpse of death, put it to the death of fear, of flight? And how brainless too, as well as heart-less, is carnal, worldly fear; how headlongly, how headlessely doth it here run for life, from life; from him, who is life it self, for a life, which indeed is the worst of deaths, death eternal, 'tis no other then an utter loss of his presence. How weakly do they stick to die with him temporally, when without him, they can live, neither temporally, nor eternally; was it not enough, that when he was but now a praying, a sweating, that they were all so heavy, as to sleep. But that now too, when he is a binding, a suffering, they are all so light, as to run away; must they not one day sit on Thrones, and judge the twelve Tribes of Israel, what and now fly from them like guilty, conscious malefactors, and so, betray so good a cause to suspicion, insultation by so trustlesse a flight. When Israel turn their backs upon their enemies (says Joshua) what shall we then say: But when these Judges of Israel thus • urne their backs upon their enemies, nay, upon their best of friends, their Master, their Savior, who dares trust to an arm, a heart of flesh; what should we but say with David, In the Lord put I my trust, as for the children of men, they are all deceitful upon the weights, they are altogether, lighter then vanity it self. What empty shadows, bubbles, ciphers are the best of men; sum up to the fullest worth, but of their personal abilities? how very a Reed shaken with every wind? Nay, how very a broken Reed like Egypt, not only failing, but running into the hand of the Leaner on, is the best of human courage, strength, faith; If God but withdraw his hand, which only keeps this bruised Reed from breaking. How like a child left by man in some ravenous desert, is man left by God in this wilderness, the world, not only not able to help himself, but sure to betray himself a prey to dangers, which he awakens with his own cries, and fears, fear makes him fly, and flight makes him meet with more dangers, then he needs, and sometimes makes him afraid to fly, and so cowardice disables him from playing the Coward. These Apostles themselves, when left to themselves, those Pillars of truth, what feathers are they in this storm of fear, all fear to follow him, some (it seems) fear both, to follow, and to leave him too, else why do Peter and John follow him, and no nearer; before his death here, how fearful are they all to follow him? and after death again, how fearful are they all without him; they were privately gathred together (says the text) for fear of the Jews, and after that, when risen again; how fearful are they all again, to meet him? They were all afraid, supposing that they had scene a spirit. Whether it be to follow or fly him, to leave or meet him, still they are afraid, without him; when man leaves God, how timorous, how treacherous a Sanctuary hath he left to fly to? when God leaves man, how slippery, how harmless an Altar is left him to catch hold of? How heartless is the man, that is godless? there is but one only, that can either search, or secure the heart, and that is he, who made it. If David can leap • ver the wall, 'tis by the help of his God, if he be not • ffraid though ten thousand should hem him in, 'tis because the Lord sustains him. Let but that Lord of his, never so little withdraw his support, and then fearfulness and trembling comes upon him, and a fearful dread over whelmes him; he is hunted like a Partridge, on the Mountains by every Foe, and he sticks fast in every mire. So little heart of his own, hath the man after God's own heart, if left to himself, man when he is left to be his own God, is not left to be his own man. God sometimes (as here by his Apostles) lets us fall, to let us see, by whom it is we stand, to let us learn the hand that holds us, to let us know we are but men, not men without him. These Apostles themselves here, to let them and us too, to see that they are but the House, and not the Rock: How fearful are they, how weather-beaten, when once they had left their master? how resolute again, how storm-proof, when once they have received from him the Comforter; what was before their fear, 'tis now their joy: They departed from the Council rejoicing, that they were accounted worthy to suffer for his name, and so too in those their discipled Successors of those primitive times, it was no other then that Comforter (as they still confessed) that made their victorious patience, so bravely to out-bid the malice, to blunt the edge of cruelty it self, to tire at once the hands and wits of their Tormentors, and (having frustrated their intended pity at their sufferings, into envy at their patience) to sing and triumph in those fiery Chariots of their burning stakes, whereon ( Elijah-like they rode to Heaven as Conquerors. So important is this divine support, that its withdrawing (we see) made our Savior himself to cry out, my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me. How very a half quenched cole rak'd up in the pale cold ashes of distrustful fear, is the faith of the whole world here become? Twice the truth of God's second Covenant, more especially, seems to lie a bleeding; at Isaac's sacrifice; and these Apostles flight: Isaac's Throat (in whose seed all the nations of the earth were to be blessed) was not then nearer the knife, then is that of these Apostles faith (by whose seed, the word, that blessing to all those nations was to be conueid. ) Into what low wanes doth this Sun of righteousness, when he pleases to take off his Countenance, suffer our spotted moons of faith to wear into? Nor is it easy to say, whether it be, more to humble, or hearten us, that he doth it, whether to let us see our own weakness, or rather his strength in weakness? our faith's may be sometimes a flame, sometimes but a cole; nay sometimes but a sparkle, and yet still a true fire; nay be it but smoking flax, God will not quench it, but can by the breath of his spirit, blow it (as John Baptists ) into a burning and a shining light. God loves to show his power, in weakness, to preserve a whole world in one little Ark: he affects nothing more, then as to make his preseruations augmentative ever into more; so his augmentations (as near as may be) creatiue from almost nothing; he reaches not out the hand, until Peter be almost suncke: man's extremity is mostly God's opportunity; he is more especially a refuge, (as David speaks) in due time of trouble; 'tis in the heart of man, as in the house of David, there may a little Joash lie hid a long time, in whom God's promise, and David's, and his seed's interest may be made good. Be my faith but a mustard seed, it may yet have life enough to spring, and strength enough to throw the mountain of my sins into the Sea of my Savior's blood. Every sleeping, nay every swooning is not death, whether in soul or body: We live not by sense (says the Apostle) but by saith; and that faith too may live, and yet not be sensible, no not to the owner: Our life 'tis bid with Christ in God: Man cannot be surer united to his Savior, then in him God was to man, and yet (we see) there was a time, when he himself felt not that union, but cried out, my God, my God why hast thou forsaken me.

But O my blessed Lord and Savior, how frowardly art thou here dealt with? Thou callest all unto thee, come unto me, all that are heavily laden: Thou art now so thyself (Lord) and do all even thine own Apostles too run from thee; and thereby cast yet more weight upon thee, already panting in a sweat of blood, under that heavy load of thy fathers wrath; man's sin, the people's fury, the Priests envy, is not all enough? not the malice of thine enemies, without the flight of thy friends; which how tenderly thou tookest, thine own complaint best speaks: My lovers and friends hast thou put away from me, and hid mine acquaintance out of my sight. Wilt thou so (Lord) tread the mine press alone, so engross the whole burden of thy miseries, as that not one of thy Apostles shall share with thee, no not in a wound, a stripe, a knock, a taunt? I see then (blessed Lord) thou needest none of thy Apostles help to save me from suffering, whenas thou neededst, vouchsafedst none of them to assist thee in it; they fly from life, to save themselves from a death temporal. Let me never then fly to them for life, to save me from a death eternal: no, let me ever rather do as they say, master, to whom else should I go, thou hast the words of eternal life; nay, thou art that word of life eternal.

Thou sufferedst (Lord) thine own Apostles, thus to fall, that I might take the better heed how I stand; let me not turn then thy grace to them into wantonness, but into watchfulness. If thine own parents loose thee, thine own Apostles thus leave thee, how much more should I, work out my salvation with fear and trembling. Let their fall, at most, but raise me from despair, when I am down; let it not cast me into a presumption of falling, being up on security of rising again with them; Let me never hence take example to fall; because I may rise, but rather to stand, that I fall not, or but to rise when I am fallen.

Let my faith (Lord) and love be ever to thee, like those thy two Apostles, John & Peter, my faith with John, may it ever lean on thy bosom, possessing in a reverent familiarity, the treasure of those merits and mercies of thy breast. My love with Peter, let it ever follow thee wheresoever thou goest; But not as he doth here a far off, in a cold neutral, hal • ing indifferency, that's the way to fall at length, with him, flatly to deny thee: But (alas) have I not often with Peter denied thee? If thou be the truth, every lie denies thee, nay, if I be thy Servant, doth not very willful disobedience to thy commands deny thee to be my master; If I be a master, where is my obedience; 'tis thine own argument, and claim: how often (Lord) with Peter, hath nothing but my speech bewrayd me thine, a Galilaean but from the teeth outward; nay, how seldom hath so much as my speech spoke in me any such relation? O let me ever (Lord) as often deny myself, as thee; when ever my tongue shall be so set on fire of hell, with Peters, be my head too a Fountain of tears, with Jeremiah's and Peters too, to quench it with; If at any time I deny thee (Lord) yet do not thou deny to look back on me, as on Peter, rather frown on me, then not look on me, and spare not to shame me, so thou do amend me, rather pursue me with all thy storms (with David ) then leave me to this one calm of mine own heart, security; give me any plague, save the plague of the heart, any punishment, save that of David's curse upon thine enemies, of falling from one wickedness into another, and of Satan's standing at my right hand: Be not so angry with me, as • o take away thine anger, and to resolve not to smite me anymore: Let me fall rather with David, into the hands of God; give me not over (Lord) into the hands of mine enemies to punish me, those worst Executioners, the enemies of mine own house, of mine own heart; If thou kill me, yet (with Job) will I trust in thee; but if thou wilt not know, not own me, alas how can I thy forwardst, and most promising Apostle, he that could but now so resolutely walk to thee upon the water, even he, how soon (when thy countenance is put off him) falls he to deny thee, by the warm fire? If at any time then, more then other, I fear to deny thee, be it when I am warmely prosperous, the danger will not be so great; when I am in danger, in all time of my wealth, good Lord deliver me. And as prosperity tempts the man: So (Lord I see) society often makes a man to tempt his Tempter: How soon, how busily doth the devil set on • eter in the high Priests Hall, how easily doth he there foil him by the question of a silly girl. Let me have nothing (Lord) to do with the stool of wickedness, which imagines mischief, as a Law; how soon doth Peter himself so become companionably wicked, sociably sinful. And seeing, that when thine own Apostles left thee, to become their, own masters, thou justly left'st them to be come not their own men; O thou that ever seekest, until thou be refused; art ever found, if well sought, but never leavest, if not first left, seek me, find me, keep me, leave me not to myself, left so I be left beside, without myself; and yet if at any time, the better to make me know the hand that holds me, thou seem to leave me for a time, leave me (but as thou hast promised) not comfortless, though thou seem to sleep in my soul, as some time in the ship: Thou will • awake sure ere it drown, and so, how ever it be (as that) full and covered with Waves, yet can it not miscarry, as long as thou art in it, it caries a more securing fraught, then Caesar with all his fortunes, one who can with a word, both steer the Vessel, and still the Seas.

V. He is mocked at, spit on, blindfolded, buffeted.

THe Sheepheard is smitten, and the sheep (we see) are scattered, and now the Wolves begin to insult on this their yielding forsaken prey, this Lamb of God: But was not wicked Cham justly accurs'd, for mocking, but at his drunken father; And is there not something more then a curse for such as mock their Almighty Maker, as deride divinity it self? that he whom the immortal Angels adore, the heavenly Elders cast down their Crowns to, to whom too earthly Kings owe theirs; 'tis by him they reign, that he (I say) should be thus baited at the Stake of scorn, exploded thus on the Stage of folly, that he who is not containd by the Heaven of Heavens, should be thus contemned by the dust of earth, trembled at by devils, and trampled on by worms, that he who is both the light of the gentiles, and glory of his people Israel, should yet be thus made their blindfold buffon, their reproachful game, and scorn (so far from either light or glory ) 'tis (if it might be named) such a piece of personal profanation, so far beyond that of tongue, as indeed tongue can no way reach it; Lay but these together, the glory of Heaven, and the game, the shame of earth, the worship of Angels, and the scorn of wretches, the terror of devils, and the sport of worms; the express Image and wisdom of his heavenly father, and the exploded spectacle and folly to the dust of his own Footstool: And see if they do not seem to stretch Heaven and Earth, yet further asunder, to give room for their distance? But what is it they can find thus to mock at in him; his words, they were f • w; and when any, they were astonishing: Never man spake like this man, was their own frequent acclamation; his gesture, it was civile, modest; his behavior humble, meek; his person, fairer then the sons of men: Every thing in him challenges admiration, reverence, and takes the heart with an awful love; what can they find then, should tickle their derisive, but more ridiculous spleenes thus into laughter? Would we have it in a word; it is his kingdom, hail King of the Jews. Kings, as they are said to have long arms, and broad hands, for matter of power, and bounty; so they cannot but have weary shoulders, in the continual guidance of those arms and hands, even in the fullest confluence of all possible attendance, reverence, allegiance, love: But alas, when envy, treason, scorn shall cast yet more weight to that burden; certainly (as the Apostle speaks in another case) they are, of all men, the most miserable; such a Crown, so wreath'd, so lined, not only with thoughtful cares and fears, but with contemptuous abuse and scorn, were not only not worth the stooping down to take up from the ground, (as that experienced King spake feelingly of his) but rather as Cain complain'd of his punishment, a burden too great for man to bear.

To see the prevaricate froward implacability of the giddy multitude, this people of the Jews, at first how loath was God to give them a King? how ever, they will be in the fashion, make us a King (say they) to judge us like all the other nations; here he gives them one, a King above all Kings, a King of Kings; If they believe, one of the best of their Kings, David, nay a King after their own hearts too, one, whom, but now, they themselves would have made their King, and yet now again how soon fall they to abuse him, in that very title, which they themselves would then have given them, hail King &c. True, they would have made him King, but would not have him to make himself, so how purposelesse, as well as pettish is their malice, as if he could have been their King, otherwise then by his own making? no, 'tis he alone, that plucks down one, and sets up another, 'tis he only by whom Kings do reign, nor could they have any power (as he tells Pilate) if not given by him from above; alas, in the highest degree to have given him the fullest title and majesty of a King; how infinitely short a diminution had it been? how derogative had been that prerogative? had he trod on nothing but Scepters, Crowns, and the necks of Kings, and Emperors; how justly, how modestly might he have shaken such dust from off his feet: But thus to abuse him with the ridiculous misrule-majesty of of a mock-King; how infinitely wide is it, as well as short: How much more then can be spoke? well was it in a scarlet Roab that they thus abused him, lest happily the conscious garment might have blushd to scarlet at this their more scarlet sin; If he will not hold him guiltless, that makes a vain use, but of his name, how guilty are such as make so vile an abuse of his very person.

The four things that to Kings, specially, conciliate reverence, and love, as wisdom, power, majesty, and bounty; all which how cardinally eminent they were in him, be these, his own enemies, his judges; his wisdom even at twelve years old in the Temple; all the Doctors wer • graveld, all the people astonished at it; he ever sent away the subtl'st Scribes and Pharisees, and Lawyers, shamefully nonpluss'd; his power had made all to wonder, and devils themselves tremble and confess it, the blind, and lame, and deaf, and dumb, and sick, and dead, and Winds, and Seas, all of them had felt it: His majesty that they themselves had but now tasted of in the Garden, the lest glimpse of it had thrown them all back on the ground, his bounty that of all others could not want witnesses, he had feasted four and five thousands at a time: He never denied anything, no not himself to any: Come unto me all, and buy without money; he gave himself a Ransom? What can they then thus deride in this King; ambition, they cannot, he fled when they themselves would have made him King, usurpation they cannot; how willingly, how wonderfully doth he pay Caesar tribute; alas, he is as far from any glory in it, as they from duty to it; otherwise how easily could this Sampson, this Nazarite, how justly might he have plucked down the house about the ears of such scoffing Philistines, and have made (as there) their Theater, their Grave, and turned this their comike folly into as tragike a funeral? But they will try yet further (if possible) to provoke him; and will not empt their nasty mouths, watering after the forbidden fruit of his innocent blood, but on his sacred face, that face before which Angels cover theirs, and yet desire to behold it, so full of maiestike glory, that they cannot but through their wings look on it, and ye • so full too of attractive love, that they cannot look off it: They always behold the face of God in Heaven: Yet even this face, thus spitefully is it here spit on, even by slime it self, steep'd in the loathsome slaver, the frothy scum of the scummes it self of mankind. David complains that his ene- opened their mouths upon him, but we read not that they empted their mouths thus on him, that they gaped on him with their mouths (he tells us, ) like Ramping Lions, not that they spat on him with their mouths, thus like venomous Toads, Steephens murderers, gnashd on him (says the text) with their teeth, like angry Curs, but we read not that they thus spat on him, like poisonous Serpents, their usage spake but their spite; But this here, both their spite and scorn, and scorn, certainly, ever takes deeper of a mind noble and ingenuous, then envy: How infinitely wide is this from Magdalens usage of him? She washd his feet with her penitent tears, these daub his face with their putrid spittle; but now their ulcerous lungs & mouths have thus overflowed on him, as well in the rewmatike scum of blasphemies, and raunts, as of spittle, in the next scene they will exercise their fists on him, which that they may the better do with the more sport to them, and spite to him; they first blindfold him; and then buffet him; true, one half of that his own speech they make good, here's no concord indeed, between Christ and Belial; but the other half, how possibly do they strive to disprove in thus laboring, to make fellowship between light and darkness, to blindfold the light it self, that light that lightens everyone, that comes into the world, to darken those eyes, to which the darkness and the light are both alike; show us the light of thy countenance (says David) and we shall be whole, and thou shalt so put gladness into my heart: How contrary is this their practice to David's prayer? show us (say they) (without the light of thy countenance) who smote thee; and nothing puts so much scurrilous mirth, and gladness into their hearts, as the loss of that light, the hiding of that countenance: the clay should not dispute with the Potter, and say, why madest thou me thus: But here's a stranger kind of disputation, from the work to the Maker, one that concludes in Ferio, in blows upon him; and puts him to the answer of a Ridle, who smote him: The Apostle bids us lift up pure and undefiled hands unto him; but how contrarily, how literally do these here (as the Prophet speaks) lift up their hands against him, to provoke the eyes of his glory? how strange, how unusual is the mixture of this their bitter Cup of malice, envy hatred, scorn; how rarely meet they on any one object? Envy looks still upward, and argues, if not ever a superiority, yet at least a priority in the object; hatred that looks mostly level, and argues, if not still an equality, yet at least a iealosy of coming too near it, but scorn that looks still downward, and treads the object below the place of revenge, or enmity; and yet all three how strangely do they here stick at once in him, their inv • nnomd stings? Envy opens her broadest eye on him in a watchful malignance, hatred she lifts her heaviest hand against him in a wrongful violence; and scorn too, spares not to set her insulting foot on him, in a contemptuous disdain, which how much more it afflicts a generous mind, then the worst of violence, let Saul's death speak: strike me through with thy Sword (says he) to his armor bearer, lest these uncircumcised, come and thrust me through and mock me: That their first King feared it, and questionless this their last King felt their insultation more then their fury, torture, or death. But O Lord how long, how long, Lord, shall the ungodly thus triumph, how long shall the wicked Doers speak so disdainefully, and make such proud boasting? How long shall these lying lips thus cruelly, disdainefully, and despitefully speak against the righteous? What emulation is this, that thy patience and humility seem to strive in on this thy willing abasement? was it not enough (Lord) for thee to quit the Throne, and to embrace the footstool? to become less then thy father, lower then the Angels, in all things like man, sin only excepted: And certainly Nebuchadnezzar's fall from the illustrious reasonable Throne, to the lustrous brutish Den; was not one rundle of this thy Jacob's Ladder from Heaven to earth, and was not this enough, wilt thou yet lower, and be made as man, so a Servant of men, a drudge to thy own creatures, vassailes; (our sins made him to serve among us) is not this enough neither; but that being made a Servant, and • oth knowing and doing thy masters will; nay, making it thy meat and drink to do it, yet wilt thou have that desert of the tenant Servant, that knows, and doth it not, be beaten with many stripes. Is not all this yet enough neither; unless thou become yet lower, viler, a worm and no man, carelessly trod on by the foot of pride, as well as wrongfully beaten by the hand of malice: Yet hadst thou but stayed even here, thou mightest have found to all these thy wrongs, and wounds, at lest some pity; where revenge fails (as in worms) to strike at the head, there ye • pity mostly fails not, t • knock at the breast fo • some compassion and remorse: But is not all this yet low enough; wilt though • (Lord) be trodden down yet a step below the condition of a worm, and become not only a man, servant of men, an innocent, yet beaten Servant, a worm and no man: But at once both the envy, and the scorn of men? whereas the wrongs and sufferings of the least, the worst of things, find yet some alay in pity, and remorse, shall thine only be edgd y • t sharper by contempt, and insultation? may not thy blood satisfy witho • t thy shame? not their wounds without their scoffs? alas no, so low was I fallen, that even thus low wert thou fain to seek me; sin had made me a mock God; • he subject both of Heavens just disdain, behold the man is become like one of us, and of hells abusive disport, eat and ye shall live, and be like God's. How mercifully, how proportionably, to expiate that my vain ambition, dost thou therefore thus become for me, as the object of Heavens just wrath, and Hels envious terror, so of earths derisive scorn too? So low (Lord) even by nature, am I, that I must (with the Prophet) claim kindred with corruption, and call the worm, my brethren, nay (with Bildad ) myself but a worm: But alas, so much low am I by sin, that I cannot call myself a woe • me, not a loving, not a living worm, but dead in trespasses, and sins, leavened with spite and malice: how mercifully, how needfully didst thou therefore seek me thus low in a degree of dejection, below that of a worm, below either mould or mud, in the very bottom of worthless abasement, shame & scorn I was fallen a degree (Lord) below that of the Apostles gradation, below that of glorying in my shame, my sin, even to a shaming at my glory, at thee, thy grace, and Gospel at least, at anymore remarkable degree of forwardness, or zeal to wards it: how often have I, the better to suite me to my worse company, dissembled myself yet worse then I have been? How answearably therefore to expiate that my causeless shaming, at my truest glory, didst thou thus truly glory in thy desertlesse shame: and so, shamefully foil sin, at and with its own weapons, shame, and scorn? But (alas Lord) have I not as often too with these thy Murderers mocked, blindfolded, buffeted, spat on thee? What else doth hypocrisy but mock thee, and so, how often have I even in my prayers bowed the knee before thee, and not the heart; given thee the empty title of a King, and not the tribute? How often have my soul mouth'e oaths spat the noisome • slaver of blasphemy? my wanton profaneness with thee, and thy word, vented the itching empty froth of scurrilous wit, even in th • very face of thy glory; as if I did but practice with my mouth to spit thee out of my heart; And alas what hath my confident secur • ty in the secrecy of my sins (having in wish, if not opinion blindfolded thee) but (upon the matter) buffeted thee, and put thee, as it were, to ridle who struck thee? • hough my sins (Lord) wound thee, yet let not my service mock thee too, let it be (at least) true, though not profitable; thy kingdom it consists in power and not in word: Let my allegiance then (Lord) to it, consist in truth, and not in show, not in the form of godliness, but the power thereof; so yet, however, thou that (here) didst so freely give thy back to the Smiters; wilt not sure deny it to my burdens; so, thou that didst for me not hide thy face from shame and spitting in this time of thy • rouble, how confidently may I say (with David ) that thou wilt not hide thy face from me in the time of my • rouble, thou that gavest thy cheeks thus to the nippers, and wert not angry: sure thou wilt not withdraw them when (with David ) I sha • l in a faithful reverence kiss the Son lest he be angry • hou that didst thus set forth thy face as a flint, to all these their scornful scoffs, and blows, how shouldst thou not show forth the light of that countenance to all my humble suits, and sighs.

VI. He is accused before Pilate.

BVt now at length (tyr'd ('t should seem) with their own scurrilous folly) they begin, from making themselves with him guiltily, merry, to fall a making him (if possible) seriously guilty, and to that purpose have led him bound from the high Priests Hall to the Governors Palace, there, to proceed to his accusation, and so to his sentence of death; what led them thus to lead him thither for a legal death, was not any love to justice, but want of power, we may take their own woe • d for it, It is not lawful for us to put any man to death. How great is their malice to him, when as corrupt as they are, neither their powers, nor wits can stretch their Laws to their desires against him; and yet rather then fail, thei'le beg, and if need be, brave and threaten the gentile power (though one of their abominations) into a seconding their forged accusations by a forced sentence: If thou let this man go, thou art not Caesar's friend.

Fowre accusations we read of, laid against him, all capital, Sedition, Seduction, Vsu • pation, Blasphemy. 1. Sedition, he stirreth up the people, teaching throughout all Jury. 2. Seduction, he perverteth the nation, forbidding to give tribute to Caesar. 3. Vsurpation, he says that he himself is Christ, a King; and he that maketh himself a King, speaketh against Caesar. 4. Blasphemy, what need we any further witness, ye have heard the blasphemy. How great, but withal, how false are these their accusations? how much more truly do they condemn his accusers then accuse himself? truth though against falsehood it be a party, yet, can it have no other Judge then it self, iectum est mensura sui & curui; do but at reign then these accusations before that Judge, and how easily will they, like clouds before the Sun, all vanish? alas, so far was he from Sedition, that, though he taught and stir'd up the people, yet was it to nothing more then loyalty, and subjection, owning none for a Disciple of his, that did not bear that yoke, nay not only bear, but were it a Cross? willingly, take it up and follow him; so far from Seduction or perverting the nation, either from their Law, or Prince, that certainly neither of them had such another Champion: To the Law he was Author, Restorer, Fulfiller, how resolutely by his doctrine did he vindicate and refine it from the drossy glosses of the Pharisees to its primitive vigor; how absolutely by his life, fulfill it to its utmost rigor; they were the two ends of his coming, preaching, living, dying, to restore and to fulfill it, to restore it to us, fulfill it for us, but never to destroy it in us; even of both Laws, moral, and ceremonial, he was both Author, and Fulfiller, though he took away, from the one the curse, from the other the use, yet he destroyed neither, the moral he did not finish, but restore, the Ceremonial he did not restore, but finish, and yet fulfild both; of the first he was both Obseruer and Restorer; of the second the observer & the substance, though it were antiquated after him, yet was it both kept by him, and fulfilled, nay perfected in him. And for Caesar's prerogative, or tribute, let not only his own mouth, in which was found no guile, give unto Caesar what is Caesar's, but even the dumb fishes mouth too, in which was found that miraculous mint, that tribute-treasury, speak him how zealously forward? of all those many miracles he wrought, we read not of any one money-miracle among them, but this, whereby to pay Caesar's tribute; let Judas and his bag too at once fail him, rather then herein fail, he will miraculously fulfill that of the Psalmist, his wonders shall be seen in the deep in this, at once, both his power shall speak his will, and his will again his power. And then for Vsurpation; alas, so far is he from the least ambition or desire of sovereignty, that 'tis not all their own importunity that can draw him the least step towards either Throne, or Bench: When a cause is offered, his answer is, who made me a Judge over you, we hear him not complain, who brought me to the bar of accusation; but, who called me to the seat of judgment? He shuns not so much the sentence, as the seat, nor doth he less shun their throne, then bench, when they would have made him King in steed of flatring them, he flies them, and that into the wilderness, he chooses rather to live among savadge beasts, then servile Parasites, and no marvel, his choice may be without example, but 'tis not without a great instance of less danger: Nebuchadnezzar who in the throne among his meal-mouthed flatterers, was twice vnmann'd, first into an imagined God-head, I will be like the most high, then into, at least, a conditioned beasthood, the dew f • ll on his back, and he d d eat g • asse with the Ox, his hairs were as Eagles feathers, and his nails as claws; yet was he in the wilderness among his fellow bruits, at length again vnbeasted into his wonted, both humanity and Empire: The flatterers tongue bites deeper then the Tigers tooth, the beasts that bite sorest said the Philosopher) are among the wilder sort, the slanderer, but among the tamer, the flatterer. Lastly for blasphemy, in making himself equal with God, how great a blasphemy, had it been to have denied it? truth it self must so have denied it self, whereas to make himself the Son of God equal with God, how ever malice may call it blasphemy, truth it self tells us, 'twas not so much as robery: We see then, as how great, so how false too are his accusations, as false in proof, as great in pretence; nor are they more false in, then to themselves. Yet so as the witnesses, says the Text, agreed not among themselves. How vntrust, disioynted is falsehood, even in i • s composures of best skill, care, and preparation; falsehood as it can never be true in it self, so is it as seldom true to it self, 'its accusations are mostly no less repugnant to themselves, then reproachful to the Sufferer. Ephraim and Manasseh may be both against Judah, but before they have done, they will be as much each against other, nay rather then fail, Egyptian will be against Egyptian, falsehood will find enemies among those of 'its own house 'its own heard, and heart; there may be a conspiracy in falsehood, but no true concord, 'tis only righteousness and peace shall so kiss each other. Constantine might well say, he could not trust their truth to him, who were not true to his God. Religion is the thoroughest knot of unity, truth and trust. Truth is a plain rode, and hath but one straight open path; falsehood is a devious l • byrinth, and hath so many dark, and crooked ways, so full of error, that 'tis not a little hard for such as tread them, not to loose (if not themselves, at least) one the other in them; falsehood, like Uriah commonly caries a message in its own bosom, to cut its own throat with; 'its own weapon (like Goliath's ) serves best to strike off its own head: The strongest factions in ill, how like the fire brands of Samson's foxes are they? knit but in the tails, not heads, not hearts; and how sure in the end (like those) to burn their own knots asunder; let God arise, and how soon will his enemies be scattered; the Princes and Rulers may band themselves, and take counsel together (as here) against the Lord and his anointed, but how truly doth he by them, what they there threaten to him, break their bonds of malice asunder, and cast away these their cords of falsehood from him: And with that straight iron rod of truth break them into irreconcilable, vnsoderable pieces of contradiction, like a Potters vessel? and then laugh them to scorn; 'tis as well the mirth of Heaven, as bliss of earth to see and laugh at envy'es cunningst combinations; or'e reached and foold by their own wit, and fetches, to help them break the thread of falsehood, by drawing it out, in fine, 'tis the triumph of truth, to take the wise in their own craftiness, and make the counsels of the wicked foolish. But wh • then seems he, at all these so loud, and blasphemously false accusations, thus consentingly tongue-tied? to all their accusations he answered not a word; same though it often play the cur, and open where she finds no game, yet a good name is as a precious oynment, and an ointment corruptible too by the least dead fly; and we are to strive (if possible) that even our good be not evil spoken of. Was it any froward weariness of life, o • desire of death, to dispatch him of his torments? no, he had before wholly betaken himself into the severest hands of his, both fathers wrath, and enemies malice; yet, not my will but thine, and 'tis I am he whom ye seek: was it then any stupid confused inability to acquit himself from their accusations? no, their own repugnance, we see how easily doth it expugne themselves; no, nor was it that want only witty fancy of some, that he was here silent, because his voice, the Baptist, was before slain by Herod: I am the voice of a Cryer, no, his word is not bound, nor is it confined to any voice; he could here have spoken to them in fire and thunder, as at Sinai; or, in the mouth of the least babe or suckling have ordained strength, strength enough to have laid them at his feet, as he had done, but now in the Garden. What should then thus make him, as a man that heareth not, and in whose mouth are no reproofs? would we have it in a word, the cause of this his silence, was our guiltiness; ours, in whose steed here he stands: we (in that first fall) were guilty of all these his accusations, of Sedition, Adam and we in him seditiously fell off from God, and his Laws: thou shalt not eat, and sided with that old Mutiner the devil, eat and ye shall live; of Seduction, and that both passive and active in Eve, we were seduced by the Serpent, and in her we seduced Adam. Vsurpation, what did we then but traitorously invade and usurp that prerogative, divinely royal, of knowing good and evil? lastly of blasphemy, what did we thereby but attempt to make our selves what he is here unjustly accused of: equal with God? ye shall be as God's knowing good and evil. God then spake it in a just derision of ambitious man: behold the man is become like one of us; we shall now therefore be able to say it in a • ust devotion of almighty God, behold God is become even like one of us, an arraigned an accused, a seemingly confused Malefactor.

But O my blessed Savior, thou that art both Judge, and Advocate of that great court of Heaven, and yet for me becam'st an accused, an arraigned Prisoner here on earth; what means it (Lord) that thou didst once challenge thine accusers, which of you can rebuke me of sin, and yet art here thus still silent to all their accusations? didst thou then dare them to accuse thee, and dost thou now not dare, but thus to accuse thyself, by this thy defencelesse silence? no (Lord) thou saidst not, which of you can accuse me? accuse thee (we see as innocent as thou art) they dare, and do, but which of you can rebuke me of sin, convince me of it? true, they laid to thy charge, things that thou knewest not: As, if it were enough to excuse, who would be guilty? so, if it were enough to accuse, who could be innocent? anger is cruel, and wrath is raging: But who can stand before envy, no not innocence it self; If the green tree, thou (Lord) the true Laurell scape not the blasts of malice, what should the dry Stuble expect it, let me • eve • expect a third choice, beside either suffering or doing wrong, let me ever call in question my doing well, if some way I suffer not by it; let me never think to scape the shadow of envy, unless I quit the Sunshine of innocence: He that refraineth from evil, maketh himself a prey. But alas Lord, when that old Accuser of the brethren shall lay to my charge things that I too well know; my silence will not be as thine, patience, but consent, not a will to suffer, but a want what to answer, the witness, will not then (Lord) as these against thee, confute themselves, by their own discord, no, the books will be laid open, both that greater one of thy omniscience, and lesser one of mine own conscience, nor w ll their accounts be more large then their accord strict: thou (O Lord) as silent as thou wert, couldst (as thy Prophet speaks of thee) have smitten the earth with the rod of thy mouth, and with the breath of thy lips have slain the wicked: But alas my mouth will not then be able to keep my tee • h from gnashing, all the breath of my lips not able to cool their own tongue; my answer cannot be so much as a request to thee, to pardon me, but to the deaf regardless Rocks and Mountains to fall on, and cover me, unless thou blot out that hand-writing of accusations, that are against me.

When that adultrous woman (Lord) was brought before thee to be adiudg'd, thou wrotst with thy finger on the ground, and so send'st away all her accusers with shame: so, when I shall be then brought before thee to be adiudg'd, O Lord do but write my pardon, with the finger of thy mercy, on the ground of thy merits, and so shall all my Accusers be driven out of thy presence, so, who shall be able to lay anything to the charge of thy chosen, when 'tis thou that iustifiest. I will fear thee (Lord) with the good Thief, seeing I am in the same accusation, and I indeed justly, but thou hast done nothing amiss, mine were the crimes, thine but the accusations, and yet I will no less trust in thee (with him) too, for if when thou stoodst at the bar of accusation, thou didst without grudging bear my burden, sure, when thou shalt sit in the seat of judgment, thou wilt not stick to seal my pardon; thine own still-open wounds cannot but witness payment; and where thou thyself hast paid the debt, even thy justice cannot deny to sign the acquittance: when as thou (Lord) who wert here on earth my Attorney, and suffredst for me, and art still in Heaven mine Advocate, and plead'st for me, shalt then come in the clouds between Heaven and Earth to give sentence on me; what should I fear though the wickedness of my heels compass me round about, if the faith of my heart can lay hold on thee above? thou (O Lord) wilt not, canst not forget to be gracious, thou art still the same, when decked with majesty and honor, as when clothed with reproach and shame; Jesus Christ yesterday and today, and the same forever: though here silent to Herod'es itching curiosi • y after wonders, to the Priests slanderous envy, to Pilate's slavish corruption, to whom thou stoodst, not for thyself, nor for me any way ingadgd, though before these Shearers and Butchers of thy body, thou wert as dumb, not opening thy mouth, yet before that Sheepheard and Bishop of our souls, thy offended father, to whom I stood guilty, and indebted; then, and now, and ever art thou an importunate, an incessant Intercessor; every wound, every drop of blood, in my behalf the tongue of a ready Speaker, and that, speaking so much better things then that of Abel's, by how much, mercy is above sacrifice; in this of thine (O Lord) there is both, mercy, and sacrifice, a sacrifice that cannot fail of mercy.

VII. Pilate arraies him in Scarlet, Herod in White, both in way of abuse

NOw falls he into the hands of Pilate, and his soldiers, 'mongst whom he finds some change, but (alas) no ease; nor is the change much neither, here in Pilate's Palace he meets with but a second part of that tragike interlude begun on him, in the high Priests hall; here, he is again buffeted, reviled, derided, and again spit on, so far is this Palace from that his ivory one, in the Psalm, wherein they made him glad, wherein his garments smelt so of mirth, alloes, and Cassia. Here, how truly rather, as the Prophet speaks, is he made a man of sorrows and reproaches, wherein his garments are besmeard with blood, his face with spittle? If, when I was naked, and ye clothed me not, deserve a depart ye cursed; how much more, as here, when I was clothed, ye stripped me naked, and that to cloth me with reproach and shame, as with a garment. Pilate's garment was of scarlet, Herod's a gorgeous one of white, both happily glorious, rich, and (as will anon appear suitable, and full of mystery) they mistook not then so much the ward-roab, as the wearer, putting it on the wrong way in abuse, and scorn, and so, corruptio optimi pessima, what is best in the use, is ever worst in the abuse: But, could they think him unworthy of the richest garment; who cloth's the Lilies of the field beyond the richest Luster of Solomon's greatest glory? could they think him unworthy of any garment, the hem of whose garment was so miraculously medicinal against the bloody issue? could they think any garment worthy of him, whether of white, or scarlet, who only can make the most scarlet sins as white as wool? can they think themselves worthy to put on his garment, whose shoe the Baptist (then whō there was not a greater among men) thinks himself not worthy to loose? the Scythians, that their blood spilled in battle, might the less affright them, had their sheilds still painted red, it may be some such end in this color of the garment, might these scarlet minded murderers have, that his blood fetched with their fists, and whips, might the less either affright them with horror, or affect them with pity, some out of Zacharias; where he is said to be clothed with filthy garments, conclude the ragged, thread-bare filthiness of these his garments, and so, everything shall have its several share, and office in his abuse; the color that flouts his kingdom, and ambition; the bareness, his outworne estimation with the people; the raggednesse, his late scattered retinnew; the sulliednesse, his stained, spotted life; as they pretend, a friend to Publicans and Sinners: thus, 'tis not enough, unless both more then one garment abuse him; and one garment more then one way; but Pilate at length finds him a Galilean, and so sends him to Herod; how restless is the condition of innocence under the conduct of malice? the Ark was not more tossed by the Philistines from Aphek to Ashdod, from Ashdod to Gath, from thence to Ekron, and from thence back again to Israel, then is this God of the Ark, this Ark of the Covenant; by these insultant Philistines, enemies to the Common wealth and God of Israel; from the Garden to Caiaphas, thence to Annas, then to P • late, from him to Herod, and from Herod back again to Pilate; nor is their policy less then their malice in these his restless transmissions; hereby, they do not only the more publish his shame, but by intermission ease each others hands, and spleenes, to fresher on sets, and supplies of torture, and abuse; so that, not only his torture, but his travail is their recreation: Herod's usage of him, affords not much variety from Pilate's, but as much injury, he with his men of war mocks (says the text) and sets at naught, this God of peace, the Philosophers, says Tertullian, drew him in their pictures, attired by Herod like a fool, with long Asses cares, his nails plucked off, and a book in his hand &c. However, (no question) Herod's itching expectation of seeing wonders, from him, thus, altogether frustrate by this his strange, and sullen silence, turned in the end to utter rage, and indignation; and so, he was sure to suffer what wrong, or shame, a King was able to inflict; a Tyrant to invent, the desires of tyranny, if frustrate, turn to fury, 'tis one of the follies of greatness, that usually its flattred power wantons it into; to wit, a usurpation of command over the wills, as well as powers of their inferiors, both which if not applied to feed this wolf that ravins thus in the breast of greatness, such as cannot resist, are sure to suffer, if they will not do; yet, is he not without his mysteries in all these miseries, this malice, the second garments they here abuse him in, are a red, and white one, how suitable to that his description by his Spouse; my beloved is white, and ruddy, both the Lily of the valley, and the Rose of Sharon; the white garment is an emblem of his spotless innocence, the red, of his bloody passion; that of his life, this of his death; thus can God bring light out of darkness, and have his mysteries wrapped up in the malice of his enemies; for both on his garment (says the Apostle) and on his thigh was written a mystery? what other is his garment but his humanity? the garment of the Godhead, wherewith in the Apostles phrase, he was clothed upon; and what his scarlet garment, but as the case, so the emblem of his wounded body? for being asked, how his garment became so red? his answer is, because he had trod the winepress alone, and there was none to help him, the winepress of his fathers wrath, his enemies malice, and so no marvel, if that made his garment so red; for blood came out of the winepress, even to the Horses bridles: So that, as he himself speaks of the woman, that she anointed h • m aforehand unto his burial, so Pilate (in the mystery) thus cloth's him afore-hand unto his bloody death, and not to that only, but to those future scarlet bloody victories, of his blessed martyrs, figured before, by those his Spouses, scarlet locks, and here, by this his own scarlet garment: Thus, Joseph's brethren have no further aim in the bloodiness of their brothers Coat, then to abuse their father, nor, haply, have these (here) any other end in this bloody coloured garment, then to deride their Maker: But God the while hath a further reach in both; Joseph's bloody garment shall be a type of this, and this a figure at once, both of the wearers bloody passion, and the Sharers bloody purple persecutions; so that the Apostle might well say, that we are in him more then Conquerors, for in him we here triumphed in this scarlet roab, even before the battle of his death. So in Pilate's Palace too, have we a right map or model of this woe • ld: after they grow weary of thus abusing him; they take off their scarlet Robe again, he shall carry nothing thence, that he brought not thither, but shoulders torn with whips, temples pierced with thorns, beaten, bruised limbs all over; the world is no other, but a place of injury & abuse, specially to such as belong to him; he himself hath said it, in the world ye shall have persecution; like Pilate's Palace, we can carry nothing out, that we brought not in; but the wounds, and lashes of cares, fears, and sorrows, the pricking thorns of guilt, remorse, and horror, when we go hence we are stripped of all our bravery, and must with our Savior to Golgotha, the place of skulls, the house of death, and of corruption: nor shall Herod's, and Pilate's atonement, by our Savior's condemnation; (for that very day they were made friends ) be without its mystery and import neither: Herod a Jew; Pilate a Gentile, and 'tis he only that here reconciles this Jew and Gentile, that persuades Japheth to dwell in the tents of Sem, he only is, that corner stone, that unites both Jews and Gentiles, in that one spiritual building of his Church, But O my blessed Lord and Savior, thou who art the God of glory, and yet becam'st for me a man of reproaches, how well mightest thou say, the proud have had me exceedingly in derision, yet have I not shrinked, not shrinked from death, or torture, or which are worse abuse, and scorn. How frowardly do men (Lord) strive to abuse thy mercies, to cross thy blessings? man had at first no sooner put off innocence, but he put on shame, which thou yet in mercy gavest him cloths to hide: thou gavest him clothes to cover his shame, and he gives thee cloth's to blazon thine; nay to upbraid thee with what is not thine, for shame is the fruit of sin: twas sin first read Adam, the lecture of his own shame, and nakedness, who told thee that thou wert naked, hast thou eaten? shame and glory, as very enemies as they are (like Herod and Pilate towards thee) have ioynd in clothing mankind, shame first invented cloth's, but glory fashions; shame was the botcher, glory the Taylor, and hath trimmed and multiplied shames few plain leafes and skins in Paradise, into what ward-robes of various and costly folly? But (O Lord) thou art that Lily of the valleys, and so not only white in innocence, but glorious too in thine own vnborrowed luster, above Solomon himself in the day of his espousals, so that thou neededst not their cloths either to hide shame, or add glory; and yet didst not refuse them neither; was it to bestow them on me (Lord) that am with Laodicea, poor, and miserable, and blind, and naked? at least bestow one of them (Lord) on me, that scarlet Roab of thy death, • nd passion, that I may find welcome at that thy marriage feast of glory: It is thine own precept, that he that hath two Coats, should impart to him that hath none; my life is a warfare (says Job ) and every battle of the Warriour, (says Isaiah) is with garments rolled in blood. This garment of thine Lord, it is usually called a Roab, and that a long one, long enough to keep my skirts from being discovered, and my beeles from being bare: Let me not then (with the self-saving Papist) against that thine own Parable, go about to put a new piece into the old garment, the new piece of human merit, into that old sufficient garment of thy righteousness, so I shall but take away, derrogate from the garment, and those rents of my sins, will • become worse, 'tis only that • ragrant raiment, of thine (Lord) my elder brothers, in which I can (with Jacob) get the blessing; strip me then (I beseech thee of mine own figleaves, of that gorgeous apparel of pride, of that soft raiment of luxury, of that linsie-woolsy garment of vnhearty, halting indifferency, of that faced cloke of hypocrisy, of that popish patched garment of mine own, or others merrits; and cloth me (like that woman) with the Sun, thyself who art the Sun of righteousness, this is the only garment; that like those garments of the Israelites, in all the wilderness of this world, will not wax old, but will be sure to bring me to that better Canaan above; • his is that mantle wherewith (Elijah like) I shall be able to smite and divide those overflowing floods of Jordan, sins and temptations of what kind soever, and so, pass over dry (with him) to ride to Heaven in that triumphant, fiery Chariot of thy Cross.

VIII. He is crowned with Thorns.

HOw aguish is the temper of popular affection, how slippery the tenure? not many days since, they had spread their own garments, and Olive branches even under the Asses feet, that bear him, and now again having stripped him of his own garments, to cloth him with rebuke and shame: their Olive branches under his Asses feet, are turned to Thorns on his own head, that head, that had been then for them (with Ieremyes) a Fountain of tears; how foone is that their Hosannah turned into a Crucifige, their magnificat into how wrong, a venite exultemus, their Olives of peace, and gratulation, into Thorns of malice, and abuse? how soon, how unnaturally do those their grapes of gladness, bear thorns of d • spite? so very a Reed shaken with the wind, is the best of these popular interests and dependences, or rather like the wind that shakes it? frowns, and favors are the storms, and calms of this wind, nor are they more uncertain, then those of weather, some they raise, but they ruin more, and those mostly whom they most raise, they most ruin: 'tis not for man, to ride long on the wings of this wind, he rides on storms like lightning, that so rides, and like that is usually spent in a flash, so slippery a Pinnacle, is the bosom of a multitude, the standing almost impossible; and as hard the coming down, without a fall, as our Savior did from his. How ill advised is the man, that seeks either to build himself on the Pilla • s of this sand, or to read himself in the Characters of this dust? 'tis one of the many miseries of greatness, that it mostly finds not leisure to acquaint it self with it self, to seek it self within it self, and so seeks it self but abroad in the opinions, and tongues of others, and so knows it self but by report, and hear-say; such at best can but live, as if they were but lent to themselves, and what with envies beblurring their virtues, and flatteries bedawbing their vices, shall never set a true coppy of their own characters. How dangerous, both the error of the tongue, and inconstancy of the heart, are of this popular Hydra, let Herod's lowsie fall speak the one, Absolom's the other: how many hath it done by, as it here seems to by our Savior, slock'd them with green promising branches of Olives, into entangling, scretching snares of thorns.

But how incongruously improper, as inconstantly trustlesse, are they in this engine of their thorny Crown? he came not to take, but to give Crowns, and those Crowns of victory, of life, of glory, and do they pay him with a Crown of shame, of death, of torture; can they afford him no richer crown, thē of the hedge, no easier Crown, then of thorns? a strange, a sharp, a bloody Coronation, and yet how much less sharp, and bloody, then their more thorny malice, that applied it? because their whips did not reach his head, their nails could not pierce it without an end of t •• ture; their fists drew not blood enough of it, (greedy, it should seem, of not a little blood from every part of him) they have found out at length this studied torture, to draw that blood out of his head with thorns, which their fists and staves had bruised with blows. How pragmatical, and conceited is malice? we read of many several Crowns, then in use among the Romans, a triumphal, an Obsidionall, a Military, a Navall, Civicall, Castrensall Crown; but never of a Crown of thorns till now; this for matter, both of purpose or pattern, how spitefully vnexampled is it? It wounds his person, and flouts his kingdom at once; what other Kings do feel but in the metaphor, their Crowns thorny, perplexed and sharpened with scretching cares, and fears, and troubles, that he finds in the rude, but not blunt letter, his Crown is such without those cares and anxieties, which other Crowns are wreath'd and lined with; and of those too, how could it be but full, under the double burden of earths sin, and heavens anger? yet, is he not, even in this his bloody thorny Crown (as strange as it is) without either prophesy, or type; here he is a true Lily among the thorns, here is Isaac's Ram tied fast by the head in the thorns, to be a Sacrifice, a Ransom for us; nor indeed could they find a fitter engine, or emblem rather, to imprint on him their sharper malice, then this of thorns; accursed, accursing thorns, the curse of earth, and fruit of sin, cursed is the earth, for thy sake, thorns and thistles shall it bring forth: but must the curse of this curse, thorns, light nowhere but on this sole Author of bliss, must it fall nowhere but on him, who so justly gave it? no, he cannot have man's sin, but he must have sins curse too, thorns, and this makes him absolute, and complete in the whole curse of sin: before the Law thorns were a curse to the earth that bare it; under the Law the Tree was a curse to him, that it bare: both ways, both curses, will he undergo; first he will bear the curse, thorns, then the curse shall bear him; the Tree: no curse shall be left, to stick on those blessed of his father; whether before, or under the Law. Both which curses, in as much as they were so borne for us; such blessings to us, how loath is he to part with either his Roabs and Scepter, he is content to leave behind him in the Palace. But that his Throne the Cross, and this his Crown, the thorns, as sharp, as bloody, as accursed as they were, yet these he caries with him to his death; in these (above all other) choosing to triumph over all those conquered powers of darkness, sin, death, and hell. If mine Adversary should write a book against me (says Job) would I not take it upon my shoulder, and bind it as a Crown unto me? So here, his Adversaries clap on this thorny Crown, as a brand of scorn, and torture, and yet (such is his love to us) whose desert it was, that though a curse, he binds it to him, not only on his shoulder, as a Cross to bear it, but on his head too, as a Crown to triumph in it; and makes it a Crown of more terror to his enemies, then of torture to himself; thus for us he was not only (as the Apostle speaks) made a curse, but for us, he made the curse a Crown, our thorns his glory, here, were all the sharper thorns of our sins, and sorrows, those pricks in the flesh, those buffeting Messengers of Satan, broken, and blunted in his blessed brows, and so, these thorns, which were so sharp an engine of torture to him, are become to us, not only a happy Crown of triumph, but a rosie garland of delight, a reposefull pillow of rest. The birds (says Baruk) sat on the thorns in the Orchard. Here are those thorns that every weary bird may sit and rest on; that every pursued bird may shelter in, that every fruitful bird may nestle in; here is that Altar, that those sparrows, and swallows (as David speaks) have found to build their nests in, nor let him ever think herein to have any rest, or shelter, who is not scretch'd and pricked with the thorns of sorrow, and remorse: Would we then have our blessed Savior to wear us on his head in triumph, would we be his Crown, his Crown of rejoicing; let us then become (with the Baptist ) thorns in sharpness and austerity of life; let us not dream of more Crowns, then crosses, of more crowns of glory, then Crowns of thorns, he is here as in the Canticles, Rosa inter spinas, and there is no plucking this Rose without some pricking of these thorns; if no conflict, no conquest, and if no conquest, no triumph; he that with the Cross on his shoulder, and the Sword of the spirit in his hand follows not our Savior here in the battle, let him never think, that with the Crown on his head, and Palme in his hand, he shall accompany him hereafter in the triumph: he that in some measure, triumphs not over sin, here in this Crown of thorns, shall never triumph over Satan, hereafter in a Crown of glory; where sins power of dominion is not conquerd, that it reign not here in our mortal bodies, there 'its power of damnation is still in force, that we reign not hereafter in our immortal souls, in such in whom God works mightily to the advancing in them of his kingdom of grace, for such, and such only, he will work merveilously to the advancing of them in his kingdom of glory.

But O my blessed, and yet for me thus accursedly crowned Savior, my Crown of triumph, and garland of delight, thou once touldst thine Apostle Paul, how hard it was for him, but with the heel to kick against the pricks. How much harder is it then (Lord) for thee to have these thorny pricks to be thus crushd into thy tender head, and yet, didst thou so choicely triumph, and all mine enemies in this sharp accursed Crown, that from this of all the rest of thy abusive tortures, thou wilt not part, no not at death? and can I glory in anything, but in thy Cross (with thy Apostle) whereby the world is crucified to me, and I unto the world? when as thou here hadst no better crown then my curse; why should I here look for any better Crown, then thy Cross? let me not think then, with those wanton worldlings to crown me with the fading Rose-buds of pleasure here, and to be crowned hereafter too with that Crown immarcessible, that fadeth not: no give me rather here of this thy Crown (Lord) thy Crown of thorns, though I deserve not a Crown as a King, yet I well deserve the thorns as a Sinner, the thorns of compunction, and remorse for sin. Hedge in my possession with those thorns (Lord) from the trespasses of sin: from those other thorns, that would choke the growth of thy word; plant these thorns (Lord) by the water side of true repentance, so they will bring forth fruit in due season, so I shall even of thorns gather grapes, even a vintage of joy and gladness. O Lord I am but as a bird escaped out of the snare of the Fowler, hide me then (Lord) I beseech thee in these thy thorns, here let me sit, rest, breed, and shelter; in all my delight and mirth let me (with the Nightingall) ever clap my breast to these thorns, so shall I be sure to make better music unto thee, truer to myself, so my mirth shall not be like the worldlings, a crackling of thorns under the pot, a blast, and away, but like that of thy presence, fullness of joy, and of thy right hand pleasures forever more.

IX. He is Sceptred with a Reed.

THus far, they rather mock him as a false King, then punish him as a true Malefactor; their bowings, their buffetings, their Roabes, their Crown, and this their Scepter, are all no other then the several acts of this their tragike comedy, on his flouted kingdom, hail King of the Jews. This of the Scepter 'tis the last, and worst; this strikes specially at what is nearest him; the mutual interests between himself and his followers, his truth, their trust, the Scarlet upbraids him of ambition, the Crown of Vsurpation; but this their reeden Scepter of a deceitful trustlesnesse, that he was like Egypt, a broken Reed, to such as leaned on him, as hollow, as fruitless, as helpless, as a dry sap-less Reed; his kingdom suitable to such a Scepter, so that by how much his friends were dearer to him then his enemies, nay then himself, this touched him nearer then the rest. But how shamefully the while do they more befool themselves in these their conceited scurrilous abuses? that hand into which they have put this weak, this hollow Reed, how easily could it with or without it, as with a Rod of iron break to pieces, as a Potters vessel, that their so renowned Roman Scepter? how easily hath it? how easily could he, that wrought such wonders with a Rod in the hand of Moses, for them, have wrought more, and greater in his own hand upon them? the hand of the Lord is not shortened; give him what Scepter they will, it skills not; no matter what be the Sword, the Scepter, so his be the arm; be it a straw, if in this hand of his, that spans the Heavens, and weighs the Mountains, how able it is to scatter the proud in the imaginations of their hearts; they themselves have long since felt, 'tis the weak things of the world, that he makes to confound the mighty. In the latter days (says Peter) there shall be Mockers, that shall say, where is the promise of his coming: But in that last day, when that promise of his coming shall come to pass; what will then become of these Mockers? how will they then look, when they shall see this very King, whom they now thus scornfully have roabed, crowned, and sceptred; no longer as here covered with shame, as with a garment, but clothed with majesty and honor, riding on the wings of the wind, in a Crown of stars, with an everlasting Scepter in his hand of power and great glory? then how successelesly will they cry unto the Rocks and Mountains to fall on them, and cover them from the presence of this Lamb, now dumb before the Shearers, but then with his very voice, glorious and mighty in operation, breaking the loftiest Cedars, then sitting on the Throne, whom now they have trampled thus low into the dust, how will they then cry out with groaning, and anguish of spirit (as the Wise man tells them before hand) saying, this was he whom we had sometime in derision, and a Parable of reproach; we fools counted his life madness, and his end without honor, how is he now numbered among the sons of God, nay, the only begotten Son, the darling, in whom only he is well pleased; and then in how just a requital shall he that dwells in Heaven laugh them to scorn, the Lord shall have them in derision. Nor if we look well into it, shall we but easily find, even now in respect, but of this his present kingdom of grace; how much weaker, emptier this • heir studied device is, then the Reed 'its engine, and no less emblem too; their conceited aim herein was to upbraid his kingdom at once of a deceitful weakness, a hollow emptiness, a dry rewardlesse fruitlesnesse; the usual defective properties of this their Scepter here, the withered Reed, and what more incongruous to his kingdom then any of these? for the trustfull protection of it, Isaiah calls it a biding place from the wind, a covert from the tempest: Paul a kingdom that cannot be shaken, a kingdom that consists not in form, but in power it self; so far from any hollow Reed-like emptiness is this kingdom, that in the kingdom there is fullness of joy, in the King, the fullness of the God head dwelling bodily, so plenteous in goodness and truth, that as all our wants can never tire his bounty, so neither can his bounty ever empt his store, he is a fountain opened to the house of David, and that of water of life, and that of life in abundance. Their Synagogue 'twas indeed a hollow, empty, Reed-like kingdom; but the stalk to the ear of the Roman Empire, but the empty shell, the shadow of what before it had been: lastly, so far is this his kingdom from worthless, or rewardlesse, fruitlesnesse, that for worth 'tis a treasure, for fruitfulness, tis a grain of mustard seed; for reward, every Subject is an Heir, a King, more then a Conqueror; so far is the true Scepter of this kingdom, from a Reed shaken with the wind, that it commands the Seas and Winds themselves, and they obey it; such a Scepter, as if it do but touch the Mountains, they quake, and smoke, for it, and melt, and skip like Rams; his Scepter 'tis an everlasting Scepter, and of his kingdom there is no end.

Yet doth he not refuse this Scepter, though a weak, hollow Reed, a Reed (they say) of all things easiest kills a Serpent; and so, it may be, how truly (but unwittingly to them) an emblem of the true Scepter of his kingdom, wherewith he so bruis'd the beads of those Dragons in the waters, the head of that old Serpent the devil, that had so bitten at his heel: But how unweariedly busy is their malice? they took the Reed out of his hand, and smote him with it on the head; 'tis not enough that his hand bear it, unless his head feel i • • oo; and so it shall both undermine his reputation, and batter his person, both hame him, and strike him: herein happily they think to play the moralists, to let him see that hypocrisy, like the hollow Reed, in the end both shames and punishes the owner; were their instance as divine, as their emblem moral, their conceit were pretty; but how weakly, how wickedly do they fail in the application, in miss-applying the deseru'd effects of hypocrisy, to him who is truth it self. And yet this further moral have we out of this their abusive error, that as they three ways wrong him with the hollow Reed, and but one with he sharper Spear, the Reed flouts him, the Reed strikes him, the Reed gives him gall and vinegar to drink; the spear, though seemingly more hostile, wounds him but once; so hollow hypocrisy wrongs him trip'lie beyond open profaneness, hypocrisy with th • Reed mocks his kingdom, which consists not in word, and form, but truth and power; hypocrisy strikes at his head, his omniscience, as if it could not search its hollow heart, hypocrisy gives him vinegar in steed of wine, the degenerate vinegar of falsehood, and dissimulation, instead of the wine of sincerity, and truth. Paul's hostile Spear of persecution turns at length into his own heart, to wound it with remorse; whereas Judas'es hollow Reed of hypocrisy turns to nothing, but a haltar to hang himself with: certainly the devil, he is never so much Serpent, so much devil, as when a transformed Angel of light, never more his own, more himself, then when he most seems God's, the farthest, the surest battery of this old Murderer, is when charged (as 'gainst our Savior) out of God's own megazine, with an It is written. His deepest mines, are the hollow Reed-like heart of a prayer-preying Pharisee, sitting in Moses chair; of a Fox-l • ke Herod, pretending to worship the babe; of a painted Jezebel, as well in soul as body, fasting by proclamation, but, to make the better meal on Naboth's (at once) both blood, and vineyard; of a Locust-like Jesuit, that will gather hemlocke out of God's own Garden, his word; and rather then fail, infuse it into his own Sacrament, the more indiscoverably to poison his own anointed, fetching darkness out of light it self, teaching God's word to speak the devils errand; just as these his Murderers do here, striking God with his own Scepter, his word: hypocrisy 'tis the leprosy among the diseases of the soul, the more white (like Gehesi's, ) the more dangerous; how truly doth it (as with this Reed, they think to do by our Savior) shame, strike, and deceive, the hand, the head, the heart.

But O my blessed Lord and Savior, thou that art that promised Shylo, from whom the Scepter must never depart, art not thou that green tree, that tree of life? how incongruously then do they (here) give thee this Scepter, of the dry stubble, a dead Reed, do nor the heavenly elders cast down their Crowns too, & earthly Kings hold theirs of thine? 'tis by thee thou tell'st them, that they reign. Do not to thy Scepter all other Scepters bow, obey, and owe themselves; they could have no power, if not given them from above; why thē do they thus poorly crown, thus weakly scepter thee? why did thy head, thy hand, thus willingly accept these mockeries of majesty? was it to show thou wert a God, as well of the closest thicket, a heart-Searcher, that thy Crown is of thorns, as of the openest Champion, a God universal, that thy Scepter is a Reed? or rather then thy power, was it to show thy mercy, that thou didst not burn these crushed thorns, nor break this bruised Reed; why should I then despair either of being borne up in thy hand here, or worn on thy head hereafter; be I never so naturally an accursed thorn, if thou be in me, as in that bush of Moses, though thou burn me, thou wilt not consume me, be I never so weak a Reed yet if bruised, thou wilt not break me, thou breakest not the bruised Reed, but bindest up the broken. My soul, I must confess (Lord) tis no other, a very Reed shaken with every wind of temptation, crushed with every touch of tribulation, a Reed not so white unto the harvest, as dry unto the fire, not so fit in it self for the barn, as the dunghill, yet 'tis a bruised Reed (Lord) bruised with the weight, the conscience of sin, and so into thy hands am I (with this thy Scepter) bold to commend it, knowing that though (as thine Apostles did by the ears of corn ) thou rub it with present smart, and affliction; yet already bruised, thou wilt not quite break it off with utter destruction, or burn it up among the tares with unquenchable fire, thou showest the strength of thy arm (Lord) better in breaking, and scattering the proud and lofty Cedars of the world; rather in supporting the bending, bruised Reeds of humility; thou that cursedst the green, the leafy fig tree, doest here accept the weak, the bruised Reed. But (O Lord) may I not better wonder at, and chide this my wondering, and chiding at the sharpness of that thy Crown, the weakness of this thy Scepter, that do myself give thee, yet still worse; malice, rancor, and debate, are thorns far sharper to thee, then those of thy Crown, and wound thee deeper; those though they drew blood from thee, yet drew they no such complaint as these; why persecutest thou me? and what too doth my careless awe-less neglect of thy laws, and kingdom, but slight thy Scepter, as if it were as this, some helpless, dreadlesse straw; not able to be felt, not worthy to be feared: thus my life what is it but a larger, though less printed, less studied commentary on their broader text; and doth but descant their blunter, harsher plainesong into more variety of abuse? O let my obedience henceforth (Lord) and awful reverence to thy kingdom, speak the power, the majesty, the terror of 'its everlasting Scepter: at least, if the obedience of blessed Angels, and reverence of crowned Saints out-strip me in magnifying it's power in glorifying it's Majesty, yet let not the faith of damned devils out tremble me at it's terror, for even they believe it, and tremble at it, and confess it as well their torment as terror, art thou come to torment us before the time? Thy Scepter (O Lord) wherewith thou govern'st in this thy Kingdom of grace, David tells me 'tis thy word, thy word of meekness, righteousness and truth, whereby thy right hand doth terrible things: and so, thou hast not only by those strongest of thy creatures, devils, taught me to tremble at it, but even by the weakest of them how to resist those strongest ones; the little Frogge (say naturalists) when 'tis to encounter her enemy the water serpent, arms her self with what they here give thee for a Scepter, a Reed athwart her mouth, lest the bigger serpent should swallow her down quick: so let me ever Lord against that old serpent, that Leviathan, that takes his pastime in the waters; arm both my mouth, and heart, with thy true Scepter, that holy reed of thy word, always encountering him, and his temptations, with that thine own tried weapon 'gainst him, a scriptum est, so he shall never be able either to swallow me into that bottomless gulf of despair, or to throw me down from that slippery pinnacle of presumption.

X. He is rejected, and Barabbas released.

WHither will not malice transport them? how far beyond, not the bounds of charity, of piety, of pity only, but of reason too? what more unreasonable disproportion'd perverseness? then to give life to him who gave others death, Barabbas, a murderer, and to him death who gave others life, Jesus a Savior, one that could not only (as they had often seen) restore such a life as Barabbas could take away; but that came to give such a life, as no Barabbas, no, not that old seditious murderer from the beginning, could any way impeach, life eternal; nay, one that would have given it them, how often? had they found as well hands of Faith to have applied his blood, as of cruelty to have spilled it; had prejudice but given them leave to have compared these two objects of their choice, malice it self could not so have erred; our Savior could not have a better foil to have re-enforced his luster: Barabbas a murderer of the living; Jesus a raiser of the dead, Barabbas a seditious tumult rayser, Jesus a loyal tribute payer, Barabbas a bloody revenger, Jesus a Patient, though now what with sweating, bleeding, buffeting, fasting, watching, scourging, crowning • , almost a bloodless Redeemer; Barabbas wounded, he healed, Barabbas stole, he gave: light and darkness have not less fellowship, Christ and Belial no greater discord, heaven and earth are not so wide as here Vox populi and Vox Dei, the mouth of God (says the Prophet) is that which separates between the precious and the vile; but here the mouth of the people doth not only not separate, but prefers the vile to the precious, the Author of sedition, to the Prince of peace, a murderous mutiner, to a merciful: Maker, a son of Belial, to the son of God. Here (indeed) how well might he complain that he was made a worm and no man, a degree below the worst, the scum of men, Barabbas. Envy, how ill a Judge is it, though so good a spy? how blind in choice, though so quick-sighted in discovery? Barabbas the shame, the reproach of mankind, (as his name imports, and his nature too well applies) is preferred to Jesus, The glory of his people Israel, the light of the Gentiles, the holy one of God, one that justly thought it no robbery to make himself equal with God, and yet they make him equal with robbers, nay worse then this the worst of them, a Murderer and Robber too, release unto us Barabbas. Here is the full impletion of that prophetike parable of Jotham, the trees of the Forest, have here chosen the bramble, and refused the vine, Here, is that chief corner stone rejected by the foolish builders, here 'tis (if we take the exposition of some) that (as our Savior speaks himself of them) they strain at the gnat, and swallow the Camel; the gnat bites with a kind of buzzing, a fit emblem of the mutiner, who usually stings by buzzing factious fancies, and big sounding hopes into discontented ears: yet, is this gnat Barabbas, thus nicely strained at, spared, release unto us Barabbas: whereas the Camel willingly kneels down to take on his burden, as fit an emblem of our Savior, who willingly humbled himself, and stoop'd to the burden of our sins: yet him, how greedily into those open Sepulchers (as the Psalmist speaks) of their throats do they swallow and devour? crucify him, crucify him. And yet even in this too, had our redemption, how full a correspondence to our ruin? Adam had at first in Paradise preferred that old mutinous Murderer the devil, even to God himself: eat and ye shall die, (says God) eat and ye shall not die (says the Serpent) but be like God's, &c. Adam refuses God, and chooses him to trust to, and therefore will our Savior to expiate so misualuing a rejection, once again be weighed with a seditious Murderer, and in their false scales of prejudice and malice found too light: release unto us Barabbas, and crucify Jesus: nay, but 'tis not so well neither, the Jews had a custom, what they held execrable not to name it; grounded ('tis like) on that of the Psalmist, I will not make mention of their names within my lips: that (as the Wise man speaks the name of the wicked may rot, and so nothing more speaks their spite, then that they vouchsafe not to speak his name, for if we mark the text, they do not only not choose him, but not name him: 'tis not not Jesus, but Barabbas, but not him, but Barabbas, and crucify him, as if they meant first to murder his name, • nd then his person • so after his death too, how ma • iciously, how disdainefully, do they strive, if • ossible, to bury his name, ogether with his body. Sir, (say they) we remember that, that deceiver, while he was yet alive, said &c. Not Jesus, but that deceiver, as if neither himself, nor his name were worthy breath, either his own, o • theirs; as if his n • me were some magike spell, and might conjure up yet more devils in those open Sepulchers, their throats: that malice that hates the name of an enemy, bewrays at once both folly and fu • y. But why? may we not say (with Pilate) what evil hath he done? what evil? alas, may we not better ask (with himself) for which of his good d • eds is it that they thus malign him? was it for that there is no name under Heaven, by which they can be saved, that there is no name on earth, that they so much hated? so much that they hated to name it: anger is cruel, and wrath is raging, but who can stand before envy? envy and innocence (as very enemies as they are) how frequently do they meet? even at first in Paradise, the devil was neve • more envious, then when Adam was most innocent; envy 'tis the Canker-worm in virtues garden, that feeds ever on the fairest flowers, the ripest fruits it yields: herefore is God said (in Scripture) of all other sins, most to resist and fight against those two, Pride, and Envy, because they of all • he rest most strive to resist him; crossing his blessings, • ouering, vnworking his miracles, bringing (how aversly to his wont) darkness out of light, turning wine into water, into gall; 'tis the devils last fling at grace; where (as in our Savior's temptation on the Pinnacle) he cannot hinder it, either to make others envious, or a man's self proud on it: of all other sins, Envy and Pride feed most what on the best, and yet still fare the worst: and, as how spitefully, so how fondly too, how reachlesly (with that angry Emperor, wanton'd by his power and greatness into an imagined deity) do they herein but cast nets in to the Sea, to catch Neptune, and shoot arrows into the air, to wound the sun with? in thus maliciously not vouchsafing to give him any name, to whom God hath given a name above all names, in bending thus their tongues against that name, at which (spite of their teeth) theirs, and every knee as well in heaven as earth, must bend and stoop.

But O my blessed Savior, art not thou that Lion of the tribe of Judah? how frowardly do they h • re then pervert the judgment of the Wise? Better (says So • omon) is a living dog then a dead Lion: better say they, is a dead dog, dead in trespasses and sins, dead in law too, then the ever-living Lion of the tribe of Judah. Release unto us Barabbas &c. And yet (Lord) how mercifully dost thou gather grapes from their sharpest thorns? how miraculously dost thou still turn not their water, but their worst of gall, to me into the wine of gladness? two notorious malefactors (to the comfort of all however grievous, if grieved sinners) didst thou by thine own death free from theirs; this seditious Murderer here, and that other thief upon the Cross: the one from the death of his body, the other from the death of his soul; both, to assure me, that 'tis no other then thy death, that can free me from that death, which is of bo • h body, and soul. Redemption is ever most proper in relation to captivity; how early then, how fully dost thou appear a Redeemer (Lord) that even now, thus long before thy death, hast redeemed this captive wretch, both from death, and durance? nor as Barabbas is not redeemed from death only, but f • om Prison too; so neither let me ever think, that thou wilt redeem me from my souls death, unless thou first redeem my soul, and set it free from sins bondage; those two powers, of sin and darkness, that of damnation, and the other of dominion, are joint and inseparable, and where thou redeemest not from both, thou dost from neither. But (O Lord) to draw yet nearer home, have I never with these thy Murderers preferred Barabbas before thee? alas yes, every willful act of sin, is no other then a sedition, a mutiny against the commonwealth of my souls Israel, and another Judas Galilaeus, that denies the tribute of obedience to thee, the truly high and mighty Caesar; as often then, as I have listened to that old mutinous Murderer, in his seditious temptations and neglected thy commands, so often have I chosen Barabbas and rejected thee; so that I stand doubly guilty, not only of sedition against thee with Barabbas; but of rejection of thee with these thy Murderers, how often hast thou been, as thou art here to these disdainful Jews offered me, and that by thine own self, in thy word, thy Sacraments, and good motions of thy spirit, and that not (as here by Pilate unto them) to be released, but to be bound for my release? come unto me all ye that are heavy laden, and I will release you. And what hath my careless neglect of those thy free and many offers, but answered (with Pilate here) (as if I knew not what thou were good for) what shall I do with Jesus that is called Christ? If not worse (with those devils in the Gospel,) what have I to do w ••• thee? Jesus thou Son of God? nay have not many times the secret grudgings of my reluctant soul, accounted those thy gracious offers of speedy repentance, but a coming (as those devils speak there) to torment me before the time? before the time of my own unsettled setting, age, or sickness, or some other surfeit of the world? But (O Lord) Pilate here offered thee but thrice; how much more liberal art thou of thyself; how often wouldst thou have gathered me under thy wings, as a hen her chickens? And yet, I would not; nay, thou still offer'st thyself, and criest why will ye die, come unto me; return, return: (O Lord) as thou dost me the grace so freely to offer thyself to me, so give me the grace, as faithfully to • eceive thee; otherwise, if thou give me not both h •• rt to choose thee, and han • to take thee, thy many offers will be but to my greater cost, to inhai •• e the price of Hell.

XI. He is condemned by Pilate.

HItherto malice hath given the assault alone, but finding her sharpest firyest darts (as in that passage of his accusation ) repel'd, though not abated by the better temper of his proofed innocence, here she begins to back her self with a colorable overture of justice in his condemnation; Pilate is therefore threatened into a sentence, and must condemn either our Savior, or himself of enmity gainst Caesar; he that makes himself a King (say they) as this man doth, is an enemy to Caesar, and if thou let him go, thou art not Caesar's friend. Pilate is afraid of either, and would fain spare both, & so condemns both, and of both, choosing rather to spare himself then our Savior, condemns himself more then our Savior; he knew they had delivered him to his trial out of envy ('twas his own confession) and yet he delivers him back to his execution out of fear, and so, the just pronunciation of his innocence more condemns Pilate's sentence of guile, then the unjust pronunciation of that sentence doth our Savior of guilt; innocence ever either absolues the prisoner, or condemns the Judge; take him and crucify him, and yet I find no fault in the man, turns the point of Pilate's tongue into his own bosom, and makes the bench the bar; thus as there needed no further confutation of his accusation, then the witnesses own contrariety, so there needs no further condemnation of his condemnation, then the Judges own confession. Innocence as she is still her own rule, so mostly is she her enemies rack, and many times over-rules and winds them up into a confession of the truth, though of their own falsehood; such an awful hand of terror, and command holds she even over her enemies, that who is not her servant, is her slave, where she enflames not the heart with affection, yet there she enforces the tongue by a secret instigation, either to confess her truth, as here, or to confute it's own falsehood, as in his accusation. Not doth Pilate more condemn then anon execute himself, how is he shortly after crucified, and torn asunder ( Actaeon -like by his own Curres) fears, and doubts, and jealousies are no other to the guilty, his wifes dream, and our Saviors confession on the one side, on the other side the people's willful violence, and Caesar's threatened enmity, these after they have first started him into distraction, how do they at length (as the Psalmist speaks of sin) hunt him into destruction. He fears to condemn him being so innocent, and yet dares not absolve him being so envied, so full of fears, and snares, and straights, are the by-ways of corruption, upon the wicked God shall rain snares (says David ) so sure is he that with Pilate is unjustly willing to content the people, to sell the blessing of an inward peace, but for a blast of outward favor, and certainly of the two, conscience is a worse enemy then Caesar, it hath more racks and tortures then Dioclesian, how great a couple of hells doth guilt at once kindle in her own little heart, shame and horror, and how inextinguishable are both their flames? 'tis not all Pilate's water, that can alay the least spark of either, so true is that of Solomon, it is a fearful thing when sin is condemned by her own testimony, and a conscience that is touched, ever fore-casts cruel things. And now (alas) what can a little water, what can Iordans floods, what can rivers of wine and oil do towards the washing of those his stained hands, that had power to release innocence and did not? or the cooling of that tongue, or heart • hat confessed, and yet condemned it? that pronounced at once both his innocence of life, and sentence of death? how traiterous to it self as well as timorous in it self is guilt? especially that of hypocrisy, how wretchlesly doth it most-what over-reach, deceive it self? and that with what poor, empty overtures, and slight colors of piety? how doth Pilate here strive to shut his own eyes, that they may not see his own heart? and 'gainst his own forced confession to think it clean together with his washed hands, he knew they had delivered him of envy, he confesses he sound no fault in the man, he tells him he had power to crucify or release him, and yet how fondly would he fain to wash away all the guilt of this so unjust a sentence, the satisfaction of their blood-thirsty envy, the suppression and abuse of his own both confessed knowledge of our Savior's innocence, and boasted power of his deseru'd deliverance, with a little water on his hands? Thus God makes foolish the devises of the wicked, and takes them in their own craftiness (says Job ) and therein usually too, holds not only a proportion of degree, but of kind too, between the sin and punishment: the hypocrite in the end deceives not so much the world as himself, and at last to punish both, the world's and this his self deceit, God leaves him to think that he can deceive him too; his last plea (we see) is, hast thou not taught in our streets; and have we not in thy name done miracles, and cast out devils? open Lord, open, as if he thought he could by such kind of outward formalities of religion flatter himself into Heaven, and blind God and man alike; no, water on the hands of Pilate, or the feet of Judas either, though by the hands of our Savior himself, while their hearts are foul, doth not so much wash, as stain: the hand without the heart in devotion, 'tis but an Altar without a Sacrifice, or but a Sacrifice without fire: like that of Baals Priests, it plucks not down from Heaven the fire of acceptance; but as that of Nadab and Abihu, the fire of vengeance. And what other are those popish Pilatish washings and sprincklings in the Church of Rome? if not hence, whence elsewhere can they take their warrant? how directly do they (with Pilate here) when they have crucified to themselves the Lord of glory, and put him to an open shame: nay, not only (with Pilate ) condemned him, but condemned his sufferings too, as insufficient without the mixture of their own merit; but (with him) wash, and absolve themselves, I am free &c. Alas no, every sin is guilty of this his innocent blood, and cannot (with Pilate ) spare it self, but by condemning him; nor is this blood of his, though in it self, the most innocent that ever was, yet where it stains the most guilty too, though where 'tis spread by the hand of faith, it speak better things then that of Abel; yet where 'tis spilled by the hand of contumely, it both cries louder, and stains deeper? 'tis not the waters of Damascus, or Jordan, either that can wash away this leprosy; no, both in punishment and pardon; blood cr ••• for blood, without blood th ••• is no remission, nothing can wash away the guilt of this blood, but the merit of the same, without which, notwithstanding, all his washing, it stuck still on Pilate's imbrued hands, nor stai'd it there neither; but how fearfully did it eat yet deeper into his iron bowels? out of which, shortly after falling into a strangely tormenting sickness, he never gave over vomiting blood, until he therewith vomited up life and soul and all, and that by self done violence, as Eusebius reports his death, blood touches blood, says Hosea, which if it be not in remission, 'tis sure to be in revenge; and indeed how justly, how proportionably doth he loose, what he had so unjustly spilled? blood, how worthily did he feel what he did so cowardly fear? death, and that more from his tyrant master, then his almighty Maker; nay, that willing to content his own slaves, was content to condemn his own God: how well did those bowels of his deserve torments of their own; that were not moved with all those of our Savior's? how justly did they vomit forth blood, that had vomited forth so unjust, so bloody a sentence? how deservedly do those hands spill their own blood, that had not spared their Makers? It is the justice of divine justice, that her judgments shall not only punish, but upbraid the sin: if Judas and Pilate loose their compassion, they shall loose their bowels too. And yet how boldly dares he say, I am free from the blood of this just m • n, see you to it; God made man upright (saith Solomon) but he hath sought out many inventions, how many to hide the stains, to shift the guilt of his sins? sin hath many friends, but few owners, many followers, but 'tis in a gentleman-like fashion, they are loath to wear her livery, as that Emperor was wont to say, he loved the treason, but hated the Traitor; so many love the sin; but all hate to be, or at least to be thought the Sinner; is Adam called to account, hast thou eaten? the sin is shuff'ld from his hand to the woman's, to God's, the woman that thou gavest me, gave me of the tree and I did eat. Is Saul challengd for sparing, where God would slay; the fault is become piety, and laid as a Sacrifice on the Altar? I saved the satiest for a Sacrifice, or if it will not stay there, on the people. I obeyed the people, and heard their voice. Thus David hath slain Uriah, and the sword of Ammon, and fortune of the war must bear the blame; thus Solomon's harlot hath wiped her mouth, and 'tis not she; Pilate hath washed his hands, and he is free, and blind too, and let them see to it: desire it is the itch of the heart, and if not stopped, tis carching, and at length infects the brain too, what men eagerly desire, they easily believe: how easily do indulgence and self-love claw d • sire into opinion; the fool would fain have it, that there were no God, and at length he dares say it in his heart: Pilate would fain be free from blood, and now the desires of his heart hath washed his hands, and his tongue hath wiped them, I am free. But is this all, no, that which brands this his sentence on our Savior with as much cruelty, as injustice, is that (as Saint Luke relates it) his condemnation 'tis a delive y, but how? 'tis not to his own, but to his enemies liberty, to the boundless bonds, and all the possible tortures of their own wills, and wishes; he delivered Jesus to their will. A condemnation but to a limited death; how much pity had it been to such a delivery? what so unjust, so unreasonable a sentence, so insufferable, so insatiable a torture, as to throw innocence it self on so relentless a Racke, so endless a wheel, as the will of malice? to such a willful abandoning him to all the misery that malice could invent, or cruelty inflict; what torment had not been a lenatiue and recreation? Daniel's Lions den, the children's seven-foldly heated furnace, Isaiah's wooden saw, Israel's fiery Serpents, Egypt's ten plagues, the Spanish in quisition, the Romish purgatory, are all as far short in torture, as the last of them in truth, to this rabid hell of their malicious will; give me not over to the will of my adversaries, 'tis the prayer of David: had he had as many lives, as limbs, and as many limbs as hairs, such was the rancor of their wills against him, as questionless, they would not have spared one of those lives from death, not one of those limbs from torture, their malice (we see) suruiv'd both his torture, and his life too; after all sense of torture, they pierced him with the Spear, and again after his death and burial too, how malic • ously do they suborn false witnesses, to swear the falsehood of his esurrection? so envious were they even against tha • his second life too, that if possible, they will put to death, to the death of suppression, and unbelief, his power, as well as person, and according to that their doubled crucifige; crucify, as his humanity by tortures, so his divinity by slanders; 'twas out of envy and ill will, that they had first delivered him: so much Pilate himself confesses; and shall that ill will of theirs, that was then his Pursivant, be now his judge? Accuser and Executioner too? how perversely doth th • s sentence on him invert that his own petition? instead of his will be done by them; here 'tis, their wills be done on him; which in how unanimous a conspiracy, as well as emulous contention, they were bent against him; the Evangelist insinuates in calling it their will, not wills. But O my blessed Lord and Savior, thou that art the Judge, both of quick and dead, and that not only of men, but of gods too, and that not only of such, as thou call • st gods, Kings, but of such as men call gods, idols, that even on those gods of the nations didst execute judgment; thou King of Kings, God of gods, and Judge of Judges, all whose ways are judgment and truth; and all whose judgments, as they are impartial as the truth, so they are as unsearchable as the deep, as irrevocable as time, and as irresistible as death: was it not enough for thee (Lord) to come down from thy throne of majesty, Heaven, to thy foot stool of misery, earth? But wilt thus come down from thy seat of judgment too, to the bar of condemnation? true (Lord) thou thyself hadst said it, that thou camest not now into the world to judge, but to save it. But, was it not abasement, not loss enough to have saved the world by, for thee, who art not contained by the Heaven of Heavens, to have been contained in so narrow a corner of earth, the womb; so despicuous a corner, the manger? wilt thou not only be so contained, but contemned too, and that by worms of earth, men, but that thou wilt be thus condemned too, and that by the corrupt powers of hell and darkness? Be it so (Lord) for so it becometh thee to fulfill all righteousness, thus it becometh the Son of man to suffer. The same straight, that Pilate's power, and the people's fury had brought him in, into the same (Lord) had thy decree, and my desert brought thee, to be condemned, or to condemn; Jonah, or the whole ship must sink, one man must die for the people, or all must perish. Thou (Lord) must either be condemned by tman, or all mankind by thee, in which so far art • hou from sparing thyself according either to this Presidents president, or Peters prayer) that, to spare me thou didst afford not only the patience, but the power too, to thine own condemnation: Pilate could have had no power, if not from above; let their malice then, and my sins have the shame of the fact; 'tis only thy power and mercy that shall ever have the glory of the fruit of this thy condemnation; 'twas thy power only that could give thee up into the power of Pilate, thy will that could deliver thee up unto the will of the people: how well then mightest thou say, that thou gavest thyself a ransom for our sins, thine only was the gift, theirs (if not more mine) the guilt; 'twas thou that gavest thyself, Pilate gave but the sentence: when I was first (Lord) in Adam, left to mine own power, and will; how soon did that will betray me, that power deliver me up into the power, and will • f mine enemies? how proportionately therefore to expiate that my traitorous self-delivery, doth thine own power and will, thus deliver thee up into the power, and will of these enemies of thine? and so thy power be shown, thy will be done in my redemption; how well art thou content to have their power and will shown, and done in thy condemnation? however (Lord) though I have often condemned thee with Pilate; every, the least of my sins gives the same sentence on thee, take him and crucify him: yet let me not either by trusting to mine own, or despairing of thine, condemn both thee, and thy merits too, the one, as worthy of death, the other, as unworthy of life, though for the unworthiest Sinner; so, I shall condemn (Lord) both thee and myself too, and the last error will be worse then the first: yet neither let me (with Pilate here ) too indulgently absolve me, or on any outward formalities of hand-washing devotion say, I am free. Felix (I see Lord) may tremble, Ahab may humble himself, Esau may weep, and that for a blessing, Balaam may wish well, to die the death of the righteous, Herod may hear John gladly, and do many things conformably, Judas may sorrow, and restore, Magus may believe, and hear, Pilate may wash and confess thine innocence, and yet all still in the gall of bitterness, and blood of iniquity, all may notwithstanding say with those devils, that do believe and tremble, and know thee who thou art; what have we to do with thee: I see, Lord, the stony ground may hear the word with joy, and forewardnesse; I see there may be an enlightening, a kind of partaking of the holy Ghost, a tasting of the heavenly gift, of the good word of God, and of the powers of the world to come; and yet all short of true repentance. O let me not set that high price of my calling in thee, on those deceitful terms, that most men do, a bare profession; an empty title of Christianity, on those slight overtures, those halting halves, those easy cool mediocrities, and indifferences in religion; let me not think any degree of zeal too much to attempt, any enough to have attained, let me not say with that rich fool; soul, here take thine ease, thou hast enough: Let me not say with Judas, of any cost or pains in thy service, whitherto tends this wast; but with those hearty converts let me ever say, what yet shall I do to be saved, herein let me ever think mediocrity the worst policy, content the worst penury, ever accounting that there is no health to that spiritual dropsy, continually to thirst after righteousness, always to pant after thee, as the Hart after the rivers of water, no wealth, to that spiritual poverty of being still poor in spirit: let me never (with Pilate ) think that I am free from sin, unless I use that power I have, all that I either am, or have, or can, against it.

XII. He bears his Cross.

HOw mischievously provident is malice? how careful not to fail of someone or other engine of torture, for every limb of innocence? thorns for his head, spittle for his face, blasphemies for his ears, blindfoldings for his eyes, nails for his hands, a whip for his back, and here a Cross for his shoulders; and this as it shall more then one where, so it shall more then one way torment him; before it shall bear him, he shall bear it, and so (Uriah-like) he shall carry with him the instrument of his own death; thus will they make good, that their doubled crucifige, crucifige, it sha l first crucify him as a burden, then as a Cross. Thus wi • l they antidate his sentence on him, and crucify him before he comes to his execution: and so his ex • cution shall be a pressing, and a hanging too, before he shall be hung on it, he shall be pressed under it; 'tis not enough, that it torment him as a malefactor, unless it load him as a beast too, that the green heavy Cross might at once both crush in the thorns into his harrowed head, and crush out too the bruised blood out of his furrowed back, for with their whips (as he complains) they had plowed upon his back, and made long furrows. But (alas) how infinitely yet more heavy (beyond its own weight) must this his Cross be to him; when on it hung, all those swarms of our heavier sins, a burden under which (if sensible) the Cross it self could not but have groaned, and split asunder: yet, even in this passage too, had that veil over their hearts but given them leave to have looked back into their Prophet Isaiah, how easily, how fully might they have seen their malicious fingers herein too pointed out by prophesy? and the kingdom (says he) shall be upon his shoulder; what is this kingdom, but his Cross, the standart, and Scepter of this his militant kingdom of grace, and the key too (as the same Prophet elsewhere calls it) of that his triumphant kingdom of glory, the Cross is now become a kingdom, so much hath this Kingly bearer enebled it, that of the wonted infamy and curse of thieves, 'tis now become the ensign, and glory of Emperors; how different a kingdom from that of the Popes? there the kingdom caries the King vpo • their shoulders, h re the King upon his shoulder caries the kingdom: nor is it said upon his shoulders, but shoulder, (as some observe the text) twas the left shoulder, his humanity that bears it, that other, his divinity, 'twas eternally begotten to bear rule, but never borne to bear burden. But, (alas) what with scourging, crowning, buffeting, watching, fasting, they have scarce left him so much blood or strength as to carry himself, and must he yet bear this his heavy Cross too? yes, till he faint, and sink; and longer did they not fear so, to loose the hoped tortures of their nails, gall &c. Which to prevent, they contstrain (says the text) on Simon, a Cyraenean to bear his Cross after him, not any way (questionless) to ease, but by some intermission or assistance to enable him to yet further tortures; unless we think, they used this help of Simon's, to hasten him to his execution, lest Pilate might chance, either to revoke his sentence, or to change his death; but whether so, or otherwise to spin out and wire-draw his tortures: how truly do they here again swallow the Camel, and strain at the gnat: the Cross was a heathen, a Roman death, and so one of their abominations; th • y may not (forsooth) touch therefore this tree of infamy, but to touch the Lord's anointed, to crucify the Lord of glory, they make no scruple of at all; therefore is it that they here compel this Cyraenian, not out of any laziness of their own, or pity towards him, but only of a superstitious fear to profane, and unhallow themselves with, but the touch of a gentilish Cross; nor is it without great mystery, that 'tis Simon, a Gentile, on whom this burden lights; here, we have the last figure of the Jews rejection, and the Gentiles entertainment, as to the burden, so to the blessing of the Cross; here, Manasseh hath again lost the birth-right, Esau both birth-right and blessing, and younger Jacob, the Gentile Church hath gotten the birth-right to this kingdom, the blessing of this Cross; and justly doth he here cast them off, that had first cast him out, he imparts not his Cross to this Gentile Simon, until the Jews had first thrust him out of their Synagogue, and now out of their City. This burden of the Cross is carried part by Simon, part by our Savior; for 'tis mostly and best understood, that this word after in the text, implies not a succession of time, but of place, that Simon did not at any time carry the whole Cross, but the hinder part of it after our Savior, and so Simon as he bears his Cross after him, so he must needs follow his steps too; nor let us ever think to enjoy the benefit of his passion, without that of his pattern too, to take up his Cross, vn • esse we follow him, never o make him a Mediator for • ur sins, except we make • im a Mirror to our lives, • s we have, a come unto me • ll that are heavy laden; so ye have a learn of me too, • or I am humble and meek, 'tis not so much sin, as • inns burden, or rather burdensomnesse, that makes the soul capable of Christ's relief, put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ (says the Apostle) we cannot do it without both our hands, the hand of love, as well as that of faith, by imitation of his virtues, as well as application of his merits; the truth of Christianity consists in b • ing followers of him, of whom we are worshippers; otherwise, if we think that a Lord, Lord, we know thee who thou art, will serve the turn (as the devils themselves can say) and worldlings • hinke enough to do; how we • l may we say on as they do there: what have we to do with thee, what fellowship hath light with darken • sse, the light of a lively faith, with the darkness of allowed sin, which is indeed the very power of darkness; what have we to do with him, if we do not after him? whether we follow Simon's practice, or our Savior's precept, we may not th • nke to take up his Cross, and not to follow him. But O my blessed Savior, however this thy accursed Cross so much did tortu • e thee, both when thy burden, and when thy bearer; yet g • ve me leave a little (Lord) to dry mine eyes with the warmefull benefit of this thy burden, the blessing of this thy Cross, at least with this wood to take away the bitterness of these waters of Marah, the despairefulnes and horror of my tears; what tree in Paradise ever bear such fruit? no, not that of life, that was (at best) but a preseruative of life; but this restores it; though to the (Lord) i • bear nothing but the thorns of shame, torture, death, yet to me how plentifully did it bear the grapes of gladness, the Olives of peace, the Laure • of triumph? to me, what other hast thou made it, then the Ark of No • h, to save from the deluge of death; the rod of Moses, to deliver me from the Egypt of sins worse bondage; and make way through the red Sea of all afflictions, to that Canaan above, that flows with that better milk, and honey, innocence and happiness; that rod that fetches the water of life out of thee, the true Rock of my refuge, the Jacob's Ladder that ties earth and heaven together, and makes them transmeable, whereby the Angels become ministering spirits for such as shall be Heirs of salvation? what other is it but that buckler of thine the true Joshua lifted up against spiritual Na • jm? what but that Sword of Saul, and Bow of Jonathan, that never return empty; wha • but that wood of Isaac, which he carried on his shoulders for a self-sacrifice, both wood, and Altar to thee, that one and all-sufficient peace-offering to thy father? what but that key of the house of David to be laid on his shoulder, wherewith thou openest, and no man shuts, even the gates of Heaven it self? O let this Ark (Lord) preserve me, this rod correct me, this buckler protect me, this wood inflame me, this sword and bow fight all my quarrels, this ladder convey me to thee, this key open me the way. (O Lord) I am but a stranger here, and with Simon out of my Count • ey: Spare not here then (Lord) to load me with thy cross, I will not care how much I have of the burden of it, so withal I have of the benefit, let me not think to be thy Disciple, and not to take up thy cross, or to take up thy cross and not to follow thee: let me (with Simon ) never leave treading in thy steppes, until I come to Golgotha, that place of skulls, the grave.

XIII. The women follow him weeping.

PItty, and of all other feminine pity 'tis the poorest helplessest salve of misery: our Savior to all these his sorrows, and sufferings, his wrongs and wounds hath none but this, and this so far from a salve, as 'tis one of his tenderest sores, Daughters of Jerusalem weep not for me. Some School-men have said it (I know not how warrantably) that the sorrow of his Passion was not so great, as the sorrow of his compassion, how ever, it cannot (questionless) but largely add to, if not exceed it; where the sorrow is great, & the interests near, (as between our Savior and his Mother with these his other friends) society in sorrow doth not so much divide, as multiply, and mutually reflect it; we see it in that the Apostle Paul's complaint, in a like but lighter case, What do ye thus a weeping (says he) and a breaking my heart? but, how great is still his love, how triumphant above his grief? in the midst of all his misery he forgets not mercy, his compassion breaks forth through the thi • kest of his Passion, all his sweat and blood cannot, drown, all his wrongs and wounds cannot bury the remembrance of his friends, in the midst of all their tortures and loudest out-cries of contumely, of blasphemy, he can hear his following friends weeping behind him, and neglect all his own sufferings, to comfort them, Weep not for me; such is his patience amidst all his tortures, that it tortures his tormentors, such his love that it comforts his comforters, he hath more compassion on the women that follow him weeping, then on his own mangled self that reels along fainting, bleeding even to, unto death; he feels more the tears that drop from their eyes, then all the blood that flows from his own veins; he will not vouchsafe a word to Pilate that adiures, that threatens him, no, nor to Herod that entreates, that soothes him, and yet vnask'd how graciously doth he turn about his blessed bleeding face to the weeping women, affording them looks and words too of compassion, of consolation, Weep not, &c. He respects then (we see) tears more then words the tears of silly women behind his back, then the entreaties, the threats of Governors, of Kings to his face; yet did he not turn his face to them until he heard them weep; nor may we ever think to see his face in glory, unless we first bathe our own in sorrow; he answers the weeping women, but not questioning Herod, and so, he is ever ready to answer our devotion, bu • not our curiosity. Solomon when he dedicates the Temple, prays thus; Let thine eyes (O Lord) be open to the supplications of thy servants; and again, when Hezekiah prays in that his sickness, God (says he) he heard his tears: so here he hears, and turns to these women's tears without words; what means it that God is said thus to see our prayers, and to hear our tears? Doth he hear with eyes, and see with ears: No; but therefore 'tis he is said to see our prayers, because none prevail with him, but such as are (in some sort) made visible to his eyes by deeds, therefore to hear our tears, because 'tis they that make the best music in his ears, and run the best division on our prayers; if God then do thus hear best with his eyes, the best way for men to speak, is, with their hands, to put our prayers under our hands in deeds, as well as put them up with our tongues in words, to sign them, as well as signify them; the wicked (says Solomon ) he walks with a froward mouth; let the godly then (his true Antipode) tread opposite to him, and speak with towardly feet, that is, turn all his prayers into paths, tread out every word of them into steps, so shall God see his prayers before he hear them, and (as by these women here) hear their tears before he see them. 'tis Solomon's own Phrase, to speak with the feet, and to teach with the fingers: Ye daughters of Jerusalem weep not &c. 'Twas a woman that had the first, if not the greatest share in the cause of this his death; and therefore women shall now have the least share in the execution. If a woman conuei'd to man, the fruit of death, a woman conueies to man, this fruit of life too: If the woman at first sinned most, they are women too, that here weep most for it: a woman first brought on man the fall, and a woman first brings to men the resurrection. But O my blessed Savior, thy actions (I mean not thy miraculous or meritorious, but moral ones) as well as thy commands are my instructions; and didst not thou thyself (Lord) weep for Lazarus, and for Jerusalem, all the people wept at the death of Moses, all the Church at Stephens, the women lamented the death of Dorkas, that had made them garments, and ye daughters of Israel (says David) weep for Saul, who clothed you with scarlet? how much more (Lord) should I weep at the remembrance of thy death, who hast woven for me, and that out of thine own blood and bowels, that wedding garment of righteousness, and clothed me with that richer scarlet died in the blood of the Lamb. Didst thou (Lord) so flow unto me, and in so many shoures of blood, in the Garden, the Hall, the Palace, the Post, on the way here, and on the Cross anon, and may I not drop a tear for all those purple streams of thine? weep not for me. Yes, (Lord) thou that here look'st back on the women, because they did weep, didst look back on Peter, because he should weep, and among those thy eight beatitudes, one is, blessed are those that mourn: no, Lord, thou dost not here forbid me weeping, only thou turn'st the stream of my tears the rightway, homeward, back into mine own bosom, pointing me to the true, both cause and subject of all sorrow, my sins, the truest cause too of these thy sufferings; hadst thou suffered thus, unwillingly, or for thyself, I might well have wept for thee; but 'twas for me (Lord) and that how freely how victoriously? I will leave then that weaker, womanish moodinesse of of needless pity at the outward sense of thy happy triumphant passion to the sweaty eyes of Monks and Friers, and spend my tears on the more inward cause of it, my sins, and so they be the subject of my sorrows, be my head (with Jeremiah's) a Fountain of tears, my tears a Sea for thee to drive the swin sh heard of my sins into, to drown them all in; so, (with David ) be my tears my meat, my drink, my lodging, feed me with him, on the bread of tears, give me plenteousness of tears to drink, water my Couch with tears; so let me (with Hezekiah) turn to the wall and weep, to the only wall, the bulwark of my safety, and so, every tear shall be a common shot to batter down that wall of partition, that is between us; 'tis with her eye (Lord) that thy Spouse doth wound thee, 'tis the Sacrifice of a broken, a bleeding heart, that thou wilt not despise. O let me (with Elijah ) then first steep this my Sacrifice in water, the water of repentant tears, so, the fire of thy love shall not only accept my Sacrifice, but (as in that of his) lick up the water too, dry up my tears, and in the end turn (as at Cana) my water into wine, my drops of tears, into floods of joy. O strike then (Lord) as thou didst at Rephidim, this rock of my heart with the rod of true remorse, that this water may gush out: this is that troubled pool of Bethesda, wherein I must plunge my crippled soul, if ever I would have it sound, these are those waters wherein thou breakest the heads of those spiritual Dragons: Mans life (in David's computation) 'tis just so long as Jerusalem's captivity in Babylon, seventy years, and what other is it then a captivity? if not under the tyranny of sins utter bondage, yet at least under the durance, and restraint of many sinful frailties: while • I live here then, what should I do but s • me 〈◊〉 by these waters of sorrow? • s for my harp of mirth, what should I but hang it up, until I come to my Jerusalem, what should I do a singing here in a strange land, and that too before the victory, before I have either fought my fight, or finished my course.

XIIII. The Soldiers divide, and cast lots for his garments.

IObs miseries were great, and many, and, yet all how far short of these our Savior's? Job's shirt (as he complains) was become as stiff as the collar of his Coat, it appears then (however, his case were like that his case, his shirt, hard) yet that he had both a shirt and Coat, to cloth him: our Savior hath neither left him, unless it be that of shame, wherewith (as David speaks) they clothed him as with a garment. Job sat on the dunghill, scraping his sores with a potsherd; it appears then however, his seat were none of the sauouriest, his salve none of the sovereign'st, yet that he had a hand at liberty, and a potsherd at hand, somewhat to ease him; our Savior in this his case-less case, hath neither hand, nor so much as pot-sheard; nay his strength (as David speaks) 'tis it self, dried up like a pot-sheard, and brought into the very dust of death. Herod and Pilate, they clothe him (indeed) but 'tis in jest; these strip him, but 'tis in earnest, all have one end, whether they cloth, or strip him, 'tis still to shame him; nor is it any abatement, that the garments value might lighten the loss, how much it afflicted him to have his naked body so immodestly exposed, to the rude contemptuous eyes of all beholders? let his own complaint witness; all the day lo • g i • my shame against me, and the confusion of my face covers me: If he complain, I was naked, and ye clothed me not: how much more may he here complain, I was clothed, and ye stripped me naked; and yet to let us see, how much more obduracy towards his poorer members here, afflicts, dispoils, robs him: then the worst cruelty towards his person, that finds him a severe Judge, I was naked &c. and therefore depart ye cursed; when as this finds him an earnest Advocate, Father forgive them: God gave Man clothes in Paradise, and them how hath he since abused, and alienated from their first institution, from Covering of shame, to the discovery of Pride, Shame, and Luxury: Man shall (here) • herefore take away God's • wne cloth's, that by the loss of his, he may expi • te the vanity of ours: Nor, will this our David, our Champion, have any of Saul's armor, no, not so much of carnal furniture, as clothes to encounter with that spiritual Goliath, with all his host, only his sling, and three stones, his Cross and nails shall serve the turn. Of all the other passages of his passion, we find not any so punctually pointed out by prophesy, as this; They parted my garments, and on my vesture did they cast lots: It seem rather a Hystorie, then Prophesy, an Impletion, then Prediction, the mystery is here no less full, and prognant neither: our Sav • ou • had (as their custom was) two garments, the one, a larger upper garmen • , the other, a seam-less inner Coat, this was knit throughout, made him by his mother (as antiquity hath possessed the Church) when he was a child, and both lasted, and grew with him by miracle: These two garments represent those his two bodies, natural and mystical; the outer garment, the emblem of hi • natural body, that is by he Soldiers (here) rent, and torn into four parts, so was his natural body in the merit of its sufferi • g, into the four parts of the world; the other inner seamless one, that signifies his body mystical, his Church, this he wears more inwardly; more near him, this is kept entire and whole, so much more tender is he of his Church, this body mystical, then of that his body natural, that he cares not how much that be divided, torn asunder, to keep the other whole, so careful is he to have this preseru'd (with that his inner garment) from the rents of schisms, and factions; that if Paul breath out threatenings against it, he is stricken blind for it to the ground; where as these Murderers of his, how savadgly do they wound, & tear that other garment of his body natural without grudge, or check? These inhumane Soldiers then are not so injurious to him, as those light heeld, but lighter headed Schismatics, that running first out of their wits, and then out of the Church, because it runs not on the giddy wheels of their own vertiginous fancies, stick not to rend with schism, that very garment in the mystery, which the Soldiers themselves spared; they are not ashamed to tell us, • hat they daily mourn for ou • so bespotted, bestrumpeted Church, and dare pretend the Virgin Primitive on for their (alas) how vnstudied pattern for their misspent pity, how well may our Church answer them, as her Bride-groome did but now the women? Weep not for me, but for yourselves: But for their mispretended imitation of the Primitive Church, how rather (like Antipodes to it) do they tread quite opposite; if we look back upon those primitive times, we shall find the Churches purity, thus by her self described: They continued daily with one accord in the Temple, and breaking of bread, did eat their meat at home with gladness, and singleness of heart; whereas these Church-Rebels, instead of con • inuing daily with one accord in the Temple, how do they daily run in discord out of the Temple? instead of breaking of bread at home, how do they break the b • ead of the Church, the staff of its life, peace and unity abroad? and lastly, how frowardly do they turn their gladsome singleness of heart, into a glorious singularity of head? I dare not say (with Paul) I would they were cut off, which trouble you; I will say only (with David) Let them be turned back, that have evil will to Zion, let peace be within her borders, let her be like Jerusalem, a City, that is at unity with it self, this was the command, Legacy, and prayer, of our Savior himself, that she might be one, as he and his Father are one.

But O Lord, thou that guidest both, the inscrutable hearts of Kings, and (as here) the most savadge hands of Soldiers to spoil, and spare, as thou shall please; ever guid (Lord) my hands to eschew evil, and do good, my heart, to seek peace, and ensue it: Let me neither rend thy garments by schism, nor rob thee of them by oppression, let me beg them of thee by faith, and prayer; it is thou (Lord) that clothest the Lilies so gloriously above Solomon: O cloth me as graciously, with that richer Roab, that wedding, welcoming garment of thy righteousness, thou givest raiment to the stranger (O Lord) I am a stranger upon earth, as all my Fathers were, give me of this thy raiment, this only is able to cover my shame, to keep my skirts from being discovered; thou (Lord) art (with Elijah ) gone to Heaven, bestow (as he) this thy garment on thy Servant, this will (as that) smite and divide the overflowing Jordan of temptations, into a passage; this only (like those of the Israelites) will not wax old in my Journey through this worlds wilderness, but will bring me to that better Canaan above: at least to stop the issue of my customary sinning, let me by the hand of saith (with that woman) touch but the hem of thy garment, and I shall be whole: thy chief tormentors (Lord) had thy garments, and can I then miss them? I have c • ucified the • oftener then • hey, and so need them more then they to hide my shame, my sin; this garment of thy merits Lord, it is (I see) a true golden fleece, and falls (as these thy garments here) unto the Soldiers share, it must be won, or not worn, though it fall to us (as these) by lot ( we are elected (says the Apostle) by lot, yet to none but to the Soldiers lot) if I live not in a continual warfar against the world, the flesh, and devil, let me not think to wear this scarlet, if I fight not in that field, let me not think to share in these spoils. (O Lord) whom have I in Heaven, but thee, and what is there on earth, that I desire in comparison of thee? what should I desire besides thee? thou art food, and clothing, thy flesh (thou sayest) 'tis meat indeed, and thy blood drink indeed, and (thy Apostle says) thou art clothing, and bids me put thee on, and food and raiment, is all both Jacob's wish, and Paul's contentment; feed me with this food convenient for me, cloth me with this fragrant raiment, that can only win the blessing; so, I shall be better fed then those Israelites, though fed with the food of Angels; so shall I be better clothed, then that woman in John's vision, though clothed with the Sun, when, so, my food shall be the bread of life, my clothing, the Sun of righteousness.

XV. They Crucify him.

DEaths have their difference as well as lives, lives differ not more in the degrees of glory, and delight, then deaths do in the degrees of shame, and torture; nay, some kinds of lives and deaths differ not more each from other, then several kinds of deaths do among themselves: we read of four several kinds of deaths, then in use among the Jews, strangling, stoning, fire, and the sword, none of these deaths are t • ought bad enough for this Lord of life, but they will borrow a gentilish death, though from their enemies for such a friend; the Cross was a death, whether for the pain, the shame, the curse, far above all other, we may see it in that the Apostles gradation, he became obedient to death, even the death of the Cross: how great must needs the shame be of this death? wherein the Crucified were lifted up as a spectacle to all eyes, and how much yet greater is our Savior's above the others? we read of no insultations, or irrisions, no inscriptions or upbraidings spent on his companions in this death, herein like another Benjamin his mess is five times greater then the rest; the curse of this death 'twas worse then the shame, this seems to be the more inward shame, and consternation which the guiltiness of the death strikes into the soul of the sufferer, hereby, he was made a curse for us (says the Apostle) for it is written, Cursed is everyone that hangeth on a tree, yet (as Jerome well distinguishes) the curse is rather the curse then the effect, he is not therefore accursed, because he hangs, but he therefore hangs because he is accurs'd, otherwise punishment should not expiate, but beget guilt, and so still deserve further punishment; therefore did our Savior thus hang on the accursed tree, because he had before taken the curse of our sins on him, nor is the pain in its kind less then either; now come the barbarous inhumane hangmen and begin to loose his hands, but how? alas, 'tis not to any liberty, but to worse bonds, of nails; then strip they off his gore-glew'd clothes, and with them (questionless) not a little of his mangled skin and flesh too in parting, as if 'twere not enough to crucify him as a thief, unless they flea him too as a beast; nay, how much worse then either do they use him, when as they flea him while alive, and after with the spear wound him too when dead? then stretch they him out like another Isaac on his own burden, the cross, to take measure for the holes; and though the print of his blood on it gave them (questionless) his true length, yet how spitefully do they take it yet longer then the truth? thereby at once both to crucify, and rack him; that he was thus stretched and racked upon his cross, David gives more then probable intimation, I may tell all my bones, and else-where, all my bones were out of joint, which how could it otherwise so well be, as by such a violent distortion? whereby it seems they had made him a living anatomie: nor is it in the less sensible fleshy parts of the body, that they drive these their larger tenters, whereon his whole weight must hang, but the hands and feet, the most sinnewy, and consequently the most sensible parts of all other, wherein how rudely, and painfully they handle him, appears too by that of David, foderūt manus, he doth not say, they pierced; but they digged my hands, and feet, the boisterous and unusual greatness of which their nails, we have from venerable antiquity, Constantine the great is said to have made of them both a helmet and a bridle, some say more, how ever, how much it was for his whole body to hang so long, on nails so rudely driven thorough parts so feeling, how his bodies weight must needs continually stretch the wounds still wider, and so continue on with fresh addition of new torture, their gnawing pains, 'tis a subject fitter for meditation then speech: such as fully to express, would require both the eloquence and experience of him that felt it: how should I write on, but that my tears should blot out what I write, when 'tis no other then, he that is thus us'd, who hath blotted out that hand writing of ordinances against me: but

O Lord, thou that on that other mount wert so gloriously transfigured, how much again on this mount have my sins disfigured thee, how truly might thy Prophet (here) say of thee, that there was no form left in thee, nor beauty for which thou shouldst be desired; what else appears but bleeding veins, bruised shoulders, raw scourged sides, furrowed back, harrowed temples, digged hands and feet, distorted, disfigured limbs all over? shame, grief, and pain, emulously, striving, which shall have the greatest share in thee their prostrate prey, their facile trampled spoil, and captive. O Lord, in thee it is I live, and for me it is thou diedst, and wilt thou die none but the worst of deaths, that of the cross, because 'twas due to me, and can I (here) live any but the best of lives, that of grace, it being so due to thee? how free, how happy an exchange hath the merits of thy sufferings made with those of my sins? in steed of death, life, and in that death of thine, and life of mine, for shame, glory, a Kingdom of glory; for pain, pleasure, the pleasures of thy right hand for evermore; for the curse, the blessing, blessedness it self; how far is this from that old equality, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; how much better like Samson's riddle, out of the Eater (here) comes meat, out of strength, sweetness, out of devouring death the bread of life, out of the strength of malice, the sweetness of mercy, light out of darkness. When my sins (Lord) here laid thee on the Altar of thy Cross, (it seems) they did not only nail, but rack thee up above thine own natural dimensions: but when thou shalt enter into judgment with thy servant; alas (Lord) thou wilt not need any tenter-hooks of rigor to reach those sins of mine, the least of them being done against so great a God, cannot but deserve the greatest of thy judgments; for length, eternity will but serve, for depth hell it self, for breadth if mountains could be persuaded to fall on to cover them, they could not. Rather (O Lord) as that Steward take the bill and write but fourscore for the hundred; and yet (alas) nor will that serve turn neither, no, rather with that Lord of that other Steward, dash quite out the score, forgive the whole debt, shouldst thou leave (Lord) but any, alas, I am not able to answer thee for one of a thousand. Was it because they were so many, that I cannot count all my sins, that thou sufferedst thus to be racked, that thou couldest count all thy bones? my sins indeed are many, so many, that they exceed not only my acquittance, but account, how ever, yet, my days are but few, though I cannot count my sins then, yet teach me to number my days (with David) that I may apply my heart to wisdom. Thy wounds (Lord) are both the treasure, and foundation of thy Church, how well then for their use, as well as wideness, is it said, that they digged thy hands and feet. O let me not stick with the wise Merchant, to sell all, rather then not purchase this field where this treasure lies. There in those rich mynes of thy wounds, let me by a lively faith dignity for this invaluable everlasting treasure of thy merits, though they digged through (Lord) they have not stolen away this treasure, 'tis a fountain opened to the house of Judah, how truly may I say (with David ) but in a happier sense, the proud have digged pittes for me; on this dig'd foundation, let me build my house, it is the rock, 'gainst which, let the floods beat never so much, they shall not prevail.

XVI. Some upbraid him on the Cross, and dare him to come down, others that pass by, wag their heads at him, and revile him

THere is nothing more natural to man, then if not to help, yet at least to p tie misery though never so guilty, and if misery be • oth object, and motive enough of pity, what mise • y so moving, so melting, is this, as all this of our Savior's? nor is misery (here) the only motive neither, here is innocence it self in all this misery, and if misery may move pity, innocence may challenge it. How well might our Savior complain, that there was no man's sorrow like unto his; others sorrows are at least somewhat blunted with pity, but his edgd and pointed yet sharper by scorn, and insultation. Nor is it barely so neither, but a kind of strange a • d unusual mixture of scorn, and envy in one upbraiding, 'tis a medley of them both; but what can they upbraid him with, he saved others; what better testimony, as of his power and mercy, so of his innocence too, then, that envy it self (that same broad eyed Linceus ) cannot find a greater beam in his eye then his, saving others? what better confession could they have made of that which • ere while Pilate confessed, that they had delivered him of envy, the envy which they bear his power, and goodness, in saving others; spite it self (spite of i • s own teeth) cannot, but style him a Savior; so then when they would have had Pilate to have altered the inscription of his accusation, if they would have had it done aright, he should have made it, Jesus of Nazareth, that saved others; for that now appears to be the true cause of their malice, and his death, and so (indeed) it was, as well in his own end, as their envy; therefore did he die, that he might save others, but now (say they) he cannot do as much for himself, himself he cannot save, while they think to upbraid his power, how plainly do they speak his mercy, in doing more for others then himself, that he could have done as much for himself, nothing but a Jewish veiled heart could be infidel in, specially having seen him to have freed so many from those stronger bonds of death, the grave, and the devil too: So reachlesse is their malice, that they have nothing, to upbraid his power with, but his own mercy; therefore is it that he will not save himself, that he may thereby save others. From upbraiding, they next fall to daring (the usual Method of malice) and what is it they dare him to, to come down from the Cross • , If thou b • e the Son of God come down; alas, could they think it ha • d for him to come down from a chip of wood, that they themselves could put up, who came down from the throne of Heaven, to which they, and it were but of the dust of the foot-stool? could not the Heaven of Heavens contain him, and can a few nails, think they, detain him? no, he could as easily have come down from their Cross, as from the devils Pinnacle, but that he came to set us free who were in bondage, by this his willing thralldom, and by this captivity of his, to lead captivity it self captive: 'twas our sins, and his love that stuck him faster to his Cross, then all their cords and nails; if his flesh he took from us be fastened to it with three nails, his love he bears to us, is nailed to it with many times three thousand sins; no, had he lived but th • se three hours on earth, and all the rest of his three and thirty years on his Grosse, and in all that torture he now is in, 'tis not all the tears of men, nor prayers of Angels, much less the darings of enemies, that can fetch him down, so much hath his love to us enamourd him of this his now espoused Cross, and turned all those his rackings on it into embraces, that nothing shall now divorce him from it, but death.

If thou be the Son of God (say they) come down, how weak, as well as wicked are their provocations? If thou be the Son of God? Whereas, because he is the Son of God, therefore is it, that he will not come down; had he been but the Son of man alone, and able, he would have been glad to his own ease, if not glory to have taken them to their word, but being the Son of God, thus bravely is he able to slight their tortures, and temptations both; But how plainly do they herein the while make good that his own herauldry on them; and rightly father themselves, ye are of your Father the devil, for ye do, as he hath done before ye, not long before he had tempted him much what in the same style; If thou be the Son of God, says he, cast thyself down, and 'twas from the Pinnacle, where he himself had brought him, how near tread they in this their Fathers steps? If thou be the Son of God say they) come down, and 'tis from the Cross, where they themselves have put him; nor, do they follow that their Father of lies, more in the provocation it self, then the annexed promise, I will give thee all the kingdoms of the earth (says he) we will believe (say they) nor was that further from his power, then this from their purpose; they believed him not (we see) when he rose up from the stronger grave; how much less had he come down from this easy block? this, how fearful a flight had it been from death? that, how powerful a conquest was it of it? how truly did he therein prove himself, that stronger man in his own Parable, in binding so that strong man death, and that in his own house, the grave. No, 'tis to be thought rather, that they would have had him down, but to have doubl'd and renewed his tortures, to have crucified him again indeed, as the • had before in word, crucify him, crucify him. And (alas) how unhappy a miracle had it been to us, that they here tempt him to? how well was it for us, that they sped not? his blood be upon us, and on our children; 'tis a piece of holy oratory, a just prayer to this so uncharitable an imprecation, so fearful a curse, for (alas) had he not more supported his staggering Cross, then it him, how could it possibly have stood under such Mountains of sins? it must so, have left fall all our several burdens upon our own backs, and then, O wretched men, that we had been, who should have delivered us from those burdens of our death! (questionless) it was no other then a suggested stratagem of the devils, now beginning to feel what a conquest the cross thus enabled with this its burden, would shortly win over him with all his powers of darkness; if they then dare him to come down, let us rather desire him to go further up on this Jacob's ladder of his cross, that when (as he speaks himself) he is lifted up, he may draw us unto him, if they dare him to come down from his cross to them, let us pray him rather to take us up thither to him, that where he is there might we be also. But is it not enough that the spectators thus upbraid, and dare him, unless the passers by too wagging their heads revile him, isit not enough that his fearful Apostles fly him, the mournful women grieve him, the busy Actors at once torment, deride, blaspheme him, the envious lookers on upbraid him, but that the careless passers by too reproach and flowt him? O all ye that pass by (says he) behold and see my sorrow, and yet behold those that here pass by do behold, but to revile and scorn it; even such as are not so far engaged (they think) in the cause, as to be permanent spectators, yet can be as malicious to the person, as to be impudent revilers, though they have not as much leisure as to stay, yet will they have as little modesty as to rail, they will not fail in that, though they take it out in their way, as Shimey did by David, railing as he went. And what is their invective? Ah thou that destroyest the temple, and buildest it again in three days, save thyself. What speech can possibly be more perplexed and woven with falsehoods, impossibilities, and contradictions, he never said he would destroy, but destroy ye this Temple, and yet therein neither did their false witnesses agree. How full of impossibility is it too and contradiction? thou that destroyest the Temple, save thyself: whereas that self of his was the Temple that he spake of, he spake (says the Text) of the temple of his body, which if he should now have saved, and not suffered it first to be destroyed, how could he have made good his word of building it again in three days? Therefore will he, must he, not now save himself, because he had promised to build himself again, which had been impossible had he not first been destroyed; to restore, necessarily implies a destruction; to restore then, and not to be first destroyed, must needs imply a contradiction; but no marvel falsehoods, impossibilities, and contradictions, are but the usual figures of this kind of railing rhetoric; and for their literal temple too, seeing they will needs wrest his speech to it, they have (or may) by this time find what ominous Ravens they have herein been to themselves in the destruction of that temple too, and that not in word only, but in type and figure, what better figure could they give then these their shaking heads of the shaking, and then a staggering head of their Iudeah, Jerusalem, and of the head of that, their temple, and of the head of that, their law, and of their being shortly after shaken over the whole earth, without Head, or Governor; how emulous is every member of malice in an industrious contention for the mastery in mischief? their hearts in malice, their hands in torture, their tongues in taunts and blasphemies, their heads will not be behind, neither in the sweat of invention to put the rest a work, and those who have no brains to strain in invention, yet will not fail to shake their empty heads in derision: how well might the Prophet say, He shall bear the reproach of all the people. But O my blessed Lord and Savior, what difference is this between thine and others sufferings? those of others draw at lest pity and condolement, and must thine only provoke insultation, and contempt? Dost thou except nothing but sin in making thee like men, and do men add another exception, of suffering to that of sin, not vouchsafing to make thee like other men in that common, poor, cheap relief of pity, if not thy misery, yet might thy confessed mercy find some pity, he saved •• ers, no, but himself (say they) he cannot save. Thy actions (Lord) alas, they are bounds, how much too narrow for thy attributes, whether of will or power? from what thou doest, to what thou canst do, to argue negatively, argues little Sophistry, but much blasphemy; that thou wilt do no more then what thou doest, 'tis folly to presume; but that thou canst do no more then what thou doest, 'tis Atheism but to imagine; alas, how easily couldst thou (here) have come down from the cross, how much easier (for matter of pain if not power) then thou went'st up? how easily couldest thou (here) have done by them, what they had brag'd they would do by thee, have broken their bonds asunder, and cast away their cords from thee, 'tis thou (Lord) that bindest Kings with chains and Princes with links of iron; who though now thou be thyself fast bound in misery and iron, yet art thou s • ill as free from being any way powerbound here on the Cross, as on the Seas before, where winds, and waves, and all obey thee? how very threads of sand, are man's strongest bonds, when in those Samson's hands of thine, that measure out the Heavens with a span, and weigh the mountains in scales, and hold the waters in their hallow. I will make thy will then (Lord) the rule of thy justice, but not thine actions the limits of thy power, as thy mercy is in and above all thy work • s, so thy power is still both in, and beyond them, in which though many times thy purpose may reserve, or suspend, or proportion the outward act to the capacity, or occasion of the subject, yet nothing can confine thy power, thy word 'tis not bound (says thy Apostle) how much less thy power? thou art the Son of God, and therefore how easily couldest thou have come down? and yet how much more powerfully didst not? how much more strongly didst thou prove thyself the Son of God, against all their torturings, temptings, darings, by staying on the Chariot of thy cross, & therein leading captivity it self captive, then by coming down, & so, enthralling us by thy yielding freedom? how meteor-like a blaze hadst thou so appeared, in loosing the height, the region of this thy suffering, and yet conquering triumph? whereas, thus staying, how fixed a star doest thou appear, nay, how true a Sun of righteousness (like the Sun by Joshua, ) thou hast been prayed to stand still, by blind Bartimaeus (like the Sun by Hezekiah) to turn back too, by the Disciples journeying to Emmaus; but to be drawn from this thy sphere, thy cross, couldst never, but how truly ( like the Sun going forth in his might, didst thou still rejoice as a Giant to run thy course, though in blood, and torture. Sometimes I see (Lord) thou canst give in anger, so thou gavest this people a King in thy wrath; and sometimes again thou canst deny in mercy, how merciful a denial was this in not coming down from thy cross? with how much more mercy didst thou deny this suite, then thou couldest grant it? how miserably would we many times entangle ourselves, should we sit down and obtain our own wishes? O thou Altar, thou anker of my soul, give me but to serve and trust thee, and I ask no more, for my other desires I will assure me that thou wilt hear them either to my wish, or to my better welfare, thou hast promised to cast in all things useful to the seeking of thy kingdom, and to make all things work together for the best of those that love thee, what better way then that of thine to enjoy all things? hath not he all things to whom all things work together for his best? should I have them mine own way, in my power, my possession, my table (happily) would become my sn • re, a • d those things which might be for my wealth, would be to me an occasion of falling; how much (Lord) of anxious impertinent discontent, and melancholy would be saved, if men would be thus persuaded, that thou who hast thus promised, who lov'st them bet er then they can themselves, who knowest better then themselves their true wants, and carest more then themselves for their fit supplies, could not fail? how ever, though I ask what is above my merit, yet let me not ask (as these do here) what is against thy mercy; though my sins be dishonorable to thee, disadvantageable to myself, yet let not my suites be so too; my sins will pluck down vengeance enough upon me without my prayers; had their desires, their darings plucked thee down from the cross, how irrecoverably had we all fallen from bliss? What they then entertained with • haking heads of derision, thy constancy, and patience, that, let us entertain with shaking, trembling hearts of devotion, ever magnifying thy constant victorious love herein towards us, that could so sufferingly outdoe, the utmost, not only of their doings, but darings too.

XVII. His company in death, Thieves.

WHen misery, yet fails of relief, the two things that usually somewhat allay it, are pity, and company, only these two in all these his miseries, our Savior has, or rather (indeed) suffers, and that not less by them, then with them, the pity 'tis but that of women, the company, but this of Thieves, either, so far from any alay, as they prove not the least corisines, heart-sores in his sufferings; yet did not that compassion of the women, so much exasperate the sense, as this his company of thieves, doth the shame of his death; there is not a passage in his whole passion, that seems to take deeper of him, then this of his scandalous upbraiding company; this was it he seems to grudge at in the Garden, that they came out against him, as against a Thief, or Robber; how much more, that he here suffers amongst, amiddst, above them, as their chief; this drew from him that better blood of his reputation, and good name; and yet shall it be as not without prophesy, he was numbered among Transgressors, so, nor without tipe, or mystery; here we have Joseph once again between two Male factors, the one miscaries, the other is saved; and as that was a figure of th • s ex • cution, so is this of that last judgment; here we have the Judge too in the midst, on the Throne of his Cross, the good on his right hand, the bad on his left: These • hree trees here in Caluary • nswere to those three in • aradice, our Savior's to • he tree of life, the forbidden tree of death, to the bad • heeues, the allowed tree for food to the good ones, th Cross well taken up, and borne (as here by this better Thief) 'tis no o • her, then a tree of special fruit and food, affliction 'tis the diet of the soul, suffering is the fruit of the spirit, the first Adam plaid the ill husband with that his Vineyard, and so (as in the Parable) was turned out, but this second Adam, how much better did he husband this Vine of his Cross, manuring it with his blood, hedging it with his thorns, pruning it with his nails, watering it with his tears, to an improvement of bearing not the wonted curse, and fruit of death, but now the blessed fruit of life and glory: nor is this his companies fellowship, but language to upbraiding, one of them (says Luke) railed on him, even the dying too, as well living, find both list, and leisure even in death to torture him, he that is in the same condemnation, and much what condition with him, is so far from joining with him in compassion, as he rather joins with his enemies in contempt; that heart is desperately deperdit, that affliction hardens, such is this Theefes; nor can that affliction be but insufferably irksome, that misery it self insults over, such is our Savior's; bu • what is • his his railing insultation: If thou be the Christ save thyself and us, what better prayer? what better subject, then this of salvation; save, what better order then this; thyself and us. No, but as God likes no prayer that is not without faith, so he likes no faith • hat is not without these ifs, prayer without faith doth not so much implore as tempt, and faith not without an if, doth not so much trust as try; God tells us his way • s are not as man's, though in human affairs, trial before trust be the safer policy, yet in divine ones, trust before trial is the safer piety; to try God before we trust him, doth not only bespeak his denial, but his anger; and how reachlesse too, as well as succeslesse, is faithless prayer? If thou be the Christ save thyself (says infidelity) whereas, because thou art the Christ anointed to the office of a Savior, therefore thou wilt not save thyself that thou mayest save us (says faith); If thou be the Christ, make these stones bread, so the devil in the wilderness; If thou be the Son of God come down, so the people; but now, If thou be the Christ, save thyself and us, so this Thief here; If thou be, it is the tempting, daring, upbraiding, but not the praying style. On the other side again how wonderful is the free and fearless faith of the other, his fellow Robber, but not Reviler? that dares a vow our Savior's innocence, and therein the Rulers malice, Pilate's injustice, both, their guilt of guiltless blood, even on the very rack of torture, this man hath done nothing amiss, (Lord) remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom, that believes him a Lord, whom he sees a captive, that proclaims his kingdom in the midst of his thralldom, that desires to be remembered by him, when he himself complains of being forgotten of his Father, that begs, and that, no less then a kingdom of him, whom he hears a begging, a little water for his own thirst, that can see his glory through so many, such thick clouds of his present misery; yet is not his faith so miraculous as our Savior's mercy; how unworthily preiudic'd by the despair of any, he that asks water gives heaven, and that at the first ask, and that first not till the last gasp; that with that Steward (in his own Parable) in paying the Laborers, Begins with this, the last that came into the Vineyard lifting him (with Joseph ) out of the Dungeon to the throne, that gives him, who had not d • sern'd to live on earth with men, eternally to live in Heaven with God, like a cunning Watchmaker contriving in him all the spring it self, faith together with all those wheels of salvation, Vocation, Justification, Sanctification, Glorification, in so narrow a compass, as the hour of death.

But O Lord thy word (I see) doth not more condemn despair, then do thy works, when as thou diedst not only as a Sinner, and by Sinners, but for Sinners, and in the midst of Sinners, why should I think that thou didst not die for me, though the greatest of Sinners? where sin abounds, grace often (as in David, in Paul, in Magdalene,) super abounds, how much doth sin here abound; a Thief on either hand, Murderers round about thee, and yet grace, the Fountain of grace; thy blessed self in the midst, and that lifted higher then the rest, still praying, still giving amongst them, grace here not only super abounds but triumphs over sin: and yet, (Lord) Let me not therefore sin; that grace may abound, though thy mercy be above all thy works; yet art thou just too in all thy ways: thou snatchedst this one Thief from the gallows thus to glory, that none should despair, and but one (that we read of) that none should presume; I will not expect another Ass should speak, because Balaam's did so; Princes are usually more freely facile to the acts of pardon, at times of their Coronations, what thou hast made peculiar, I may not make common, I will not so turn thy grace into wantonness, as I may not proscribe, so nor prescribe thy will by thy outward voluntary acts, as I may not think, that thou therefore canst not thus save, because thou still dost not, so nor that thou therefore still wilt thus save, because thou here dost. This Thief (Lord) whom thou thus savedst at first word, and last gasp, knew thee not till then, let me not then make his success my securiry, my unwilling knowledge, can have no true confidence of mercy, from the easy pardon of his unwitting ignorance; I know (Lord) thou thyself hast said it) Whensoever a Sinner doth repent him of his sins, I will blot all his wickedness out of my remembrance; but I know too that thou, who hast made so many promises of pardon to repentance, never madest any of repentance unto sin; how dare I so draw on me that curse of thy Apostle by preaching to myself another Gospel, then that of thine? thou that still givest pardon to the penitent, dost not still give penitence to the Sinner; true, he that seeks thee, when ever, if aright, he shall be sure to find thee, what then? it is as much in thy choice, nay more, whether thou wilt be sought when lost, then whether thou wilt be found if sought, thou art the w • y, as well as truth or life, and so, as I can not find thee without thee, who art the truth, so, nor can I seek thee without thee, who art the way, the way to seek thee 'tis repentance, and that 'tis thine own gift as well as (that which it seeks) pardon, and thy Spirit breaths, that and all thy other graces as where, so when he lists: were I as sure of as many thousand years, as Hezekiah was of those his fifteen? In all those thousands I were not sure of the least brea • h of that thy Spirit, not of one offer more of grace, thou only art as both the heart-Maker and heart-Search • r, so the heart-Encliner too. Thou suffredst (Lord) thine own parents to seek thee three days ere they found thee, and that sorrowing, and dare I presume to find, or seek thee either, at the uncertain, ever flying hour of mine own leisure? true, I shall have more cause to repent tomorrow then today, because I shall have then, both more sins to repent of, and less time to repent in, but so, I shall have both less will, and power too, such an habitual untowardness to amendment doth every hours delay contract in the mind of man, that what is today but an indisposition, tomorrow will be flat averseness. Besides, I cannot promise myself tomorrow, why then should I trust myself with to morrows repentance? • he longest life 'tis but a multiplied day, what a desperate unthriftiness were it then to loose a day, which lost, I am not sure of another, which lost, I am sure, so much the easier to loose another, all. O let me not (as the worlds too frequent custom is) betray together with myself so necessary, and so necessarily sound a duty, as this of repentance, to those uncertain crazy times of sickness, age or death; how justly shouldst thou so (Lord) let me die forgetful of myself, should I live forgetful of thee, and wound my hatry scalp, should I so go on in my wickedness; the devil I (see) was too hard for man at his best in Paradise: how much easier will he be, when he is fallen to the worst, nay, when fallen from that fall in Paradise, when periere ruinae, the very ruins of that strength in Paradise are ruined too, as in age, or sickness, times not only dangerously uncertain, but certainly unseasonable for a matter, whose high importance, and needful industry implores the vningagedst vacancy, the vnabatedst vigor, the man it self of man to manage it; nor, can it indeed well be called repentance, which the winter of age or sickness wears a man into, where lies the conquest when sin cashers our vns • ruiceable forces? necessity as it hath no Law with man, so nor laud or allowance with God; what lets us (says Seneca ) to call Lucius Sylla, still a Tyrant, though he gave over killing when he had no more enemies? and what lets him to be a Sinner still, that leaves not sin until it leave him? he that doth not sin, only, because he cannot, he doth sin still, although he do not, in ill as well as good, thou acceptst (Lord) the will for the deed: 'tis true, that true repentance is never too late, and 'tis as true, that late repentance is seldom true; let me take then the Wise man's counsel, humble myself before I am sick, and while I yet can sin show my condition, 'twas the first fruits thou requiredst in thy Sacrifice, rejecting the blemished, and blind, and lame. O let me not think to sacrifice my youth, my strength, my health to sin, and hell, and to lay mine old withered bones on thy Altar; but (with hearty David ) be it ever my resolution, O Lord thou art my God, early will I seek. Let me hear thee now while 'tis called today, while thou standest at the door of my heart, and knockest for entrance, lest thou at last, when the night is come, hear not me, when I shall stand without (with those foolish Virgins) and knock, but without entrance; if this Thief fare thus well, let me not thence fare the worse, let me hereby learn to bless, to trust, but not to tempt thy mercy.

XVIII. The Place, Golgotha.

INto what poverty as well as passion did his love, and our sins sink him? what lower degree of poverty, then to take his beginning in a Stable, to make his end on a dunghill? he is borne among beasts, he lives among Publicans, he dies among Thieves, and he is buried too in a shroud and grave of alms, his birth is without a Cradle, his life is without a house, nay, without a hole to lay his head in, his death without a bed, his burial without a rag or grave of his own; nay, as well the glory, as baseness of this circumstance, the Place of his death shall both contribute to his shame? where did he thus ignominiously suffer? 'twas not in a corner (as Paul speaks to Agrippa in another case) but in Jerusalem, the eye, and, • t this time of the Passover, the Theater of the world; obscurity is the mask of • hame, emi • ence the Herald that blazons and displays it, so God tells David, when he meant fully • o shame him before all Israel and before this Sun. But where abouts in this universal confluence of all nations was it, that he suffers all this? not in a glorious Palace, or fragrant Garden, but on a nasty, putrid dung hill Golgotha, among the grave less bones of infamous malefactors; before the greatness, now, the guiltiness of the place shames him. Job's case was lamentable, when he sat on the dunghill scratching his sores with a potsherd, and the worms gnawed his flesh, but here 'tis worse, this dunghill of our Savior's affords him not so much ease as (with Job ) to sit, he hangs on ten • er • , and his very strength it self 'tis no better, dried up (as the Psalmist speaks) like a Potsheard, and alas how much more worse vermin then those Job felt do here tear, and mangle him? nay, the worst of worms, our sins do gnawe and eat into his very soul the irons entered into his soul; and yet, that he may be complete in suffering, he will die nowhere but in Golgotha a dunghill; Adam had sin'd in all his senses, and therefore this our second Adam, • hat all our sins might die, will have all his senses suffer, his eyes had before suff • red darkening, his ears blasphemies, his taste gall, his feeling whips, and buffets, thorns, and nails, nor shall his sense of smelling scape nei • her, that shall suffer too, if not from the persons, yet from the place, a noisome, loathsome dunghill. Nor shall this circumstance among the rest be without either significance, or type, he will rather die in stinking Golgotha, then pleasant towred Jerusalem, to signify, that sinful pleasures though n'ere so glorious, are more loathsome to him, then the noisesome'st dunghill of dead men's bones, those living painted Sepulchers, the Pharisees were more vnsavourie to him, then the dead Sepulcher-less carcasses of Golgotha. We usually cast out vnserviceable trash to dunghills, we were all no better, unprofitable, useless trash cast out of God's house, Paradise, into the dunghill of the world, thither therefore comes he into the dunghill to seek us, and there finding us dead, and withered, rotten in trespasses and sins, he inspires us with his own breath, revives us with his own blood, nourishes us with his own flesh, redeems us with his own death, lodges us in his own wounds. He will not be crucified in walled Jerusalem, but in open Golgotha, not on the ground but aloft in the air. The common'st element of all the rest, to show the unlimited vniversality of his deaths merit, in him there is neither bond nor free, rich nor poor, Jew nor Gentile. And for type the sin offering (we know) was to be, a bullock without blemish offered up without the campe, nor was the Passover to be offered within any of their gates. Here is our Savior without spot, or blemish, offered up (as the Apostle speaks in relation to that sacrifice) without the gate; he that would have a share in this sin offering, must go out of the Campe, out of the world (at least) in affection, using it, as if he us'd it not; as an enemy at distance, the love of the world it is enmity with God, with him then, • nd to him, let us go forth (as the Apostle speaks) without the Campe bearing hi • reproach, offering up with him our selves as quick and lively sacrifices to him, which let us (with him) not think to do in the pleasurous Jerusalem of the world, but in the crucifying Golgotha of a spiritual death to sin, for although he here offered up himself once for all, so that, there remains no more sacrifice for sin; yet still remains there due from us self-sacrifices of thanks, of praise, and gratulation, • hough not of merit and expi • tion, and these too must be like those other slain, and mortified; or else theyle be as far from being acceptable, as they are from being expiable, as far from pleasing, as deserving: but

O my blessed Lord and Savior, thou that didst both so much deserve to please, and please to deserve so much for me, who to become a Savior to me in thy death, becam'st not only a suitor to me in thy life, but (alas) how unwearied a seeker of me both in life, and death? was it not enough (Lord) for thee as a prodigal to have received me or as a lost sheep to have sought me in the wilderness, as thou didst when thou there didst fast; or as a lost groat, to have swept the house for me, as when thou whippedst thence the merchandise, but being vnsavourie salt, and so good for nothing, but to be thrown out to the dung hill. Didst thou come thither too to seek, to save, to season me again? to Golgotha? O let me not think any place too far, any pains too much, any conditions too low to seek thee, let me seek thee everywhere, in the mountain where thou prayedst, shinedst, by devotion, admiration; in the Garden where thou sweatedst, bleededst, by fighting, watching, working out my salvation with fear and trembling; in the Parlour where thou communicatedst, washedst, by charity, humility; in the Temple where thou apposedst, whippedst, by attention, discipline; in the wilderness where thou fastedst, conqueredst, by abstinence, resistance; but especially here in Golgotha, where thou sufferedst, dyedst, and that by faith, and patience, there shall I surest find thee, there shall I be surest to be found of thee, there didst thou stretch widest thine arms of mercy, there didst thou pierce deepest thy bowels of compassion; if the first Adam turned Paradise into a Golgotha of death, of sin; yet, how graciously h •• thou the second Adam (here) turned Golgotha into a Paradise of life, of grace, here grows that tree of life, thy cross, here flows that river that waters the garden of thy Church, thy blood; so much hast thou dignified this infamous dunghill, that the Jews having turned the Temple into a dunghill of Merchandise, of trash, thou turnest this dunghill into a Temple of prayer, and sacrifice, here didst thou offer up that all sufficient sacrifice of thine own precious blood, here didst thou accept too that welcome sacrifice that thou wilt not despise the broken contrite heart of the penitent Thief, thou whip'st those that buy in the Golgothard temple, but imbracest him that had stolen in this templed Golgotha. O Lord, my heart is a very Golgotha of death, an Aceldama of blood, wash it, as thou didst the one with thy blood, buy it as thou didst the other with thy price, in this Golgotha let me crucify my sins their malefactors in this Aceldama, let me bury thē; they are strangers to the common-wealth of Israel: raise me (O Lord) as sometime thy dead Prophet did the man a burying, out of the Golgotha, the grave of sin, custom in sinning, 'tis a veryer Golgotha of rottenness, a more darksom grave of forgetfulness then that of earth, in this grave (Lord) who will remember thee. This is that land where all good things are forgotten. And seeing thou powredst out thy blood, and breathedst out thy soul (here) in Golgotha, among these dead, dry stinking bones, make me such too (I beseech thee) inflexible, mortified, vnsavourie towards the world, so shall I be a sacrifice of sweetest savor unto thee, so shall I be to thee (as Eve to Adam ) not only flesh of thy flesh, but bone of thy bone; and since for me (O Lord) thou didst embrace so much shame, so much pain, so much poverty, as thus to die on Golgotha, a loathsome dunghill, let me not in case of suffering with, or for thee, consult with either ease, glory, or profit, but account (with thy Apostle) all things no better then a Golgotha, loss and dung, that I may win Christ Jesus.

XIX. The Time, the Feast of the Passover.

NOt long before they had concluded, not on the feast day, for fear of the people, what before reprives him, now reproaches him, at this Feast of the Passover, all the Tribes of Israel together with Proselytes, and Strangers convented in this one Citty made it the thronged Theater, the eye of the whole world, that therefore, must be the seen, this, the season of his sufferings, that all eyes may meet in the common center of his shame, 'tis not enough that his person suffer under the spite and torture of some, unless his cause suffer too under the sight and prejudice of all; he had been long the mark of their own envy, that's not enough, unless they make him now the spectacle of the whole worlds scorn, therefore is it, that no less then the three known languages shall all in this the now great Market of the world at once proclaim him guilty; yet, may we not think but that even in this circumstance too of time, his love, and wisdom had their designs, as well as their envy; lines opposite in their circumference may yet meet in one center, so may their malice and his mercy meet in this resortfull eminence of his shame: man had sinned before all God's Angels, and therefore will he suffer before all God's people, the sin shall not exceed the penance, no not so much as in number of witnesses, his public shame, and naked exposall to all eyes, shall proportionatly expiate Adams guilty leafes and bushes. But, why not as well after the feast? no, the Passover was to be killed before the feast kept, both in type, and substan • e. Of both laws, ceremonial and m • rall, he was both Author, and observe, the moral he both gave, and restored; and the ceremonial too, though he did not restore it, yet neither did he destroy it, as it was abollish'd through him, and antiquated after him; so it was performed by him, and fulfilled in him, so that, even of that law too he might well give himself the style of a fulfiller, and not a destroyer; the migration of a type into its substance, being indeed so far from a loss of frustration, as it is its truest improvement, and perfection: this l • w of the Passover as it was in manner and circumstance ceremonial, so it was in signification, and substance moral; this substance 'twas himself, at approach of which the shadow was to vanish▪ how doggedly (as in the fable) then, do they loose the substance, and catch at the shaddow? how frowardly, how unseasonably go they about at once to keep the one, and kill the other? as if there were no time so fit to imbrue their hands in the innocent blood of this Lamb, truly Paschal, but then, when they were to annoint their door-posts with the figurative blood of that Lamb Sacramental? Some Churches (they say) among the Papists, among other their myraculous Relics have consecrated, and do still to this day keep S ^t . Peters sometime healing shaddow, 'tis hence sure they take both the possibility, and devotion, from these our Savior's superstitious murderers, who still now celebrate his shadow, after they have crucified himself, how truly do they by him, as he had told them they did by his Prophets, kill him, & yet celebrate his Sepulcher, his empty antiquated shrine, and without him but the widowed, the carcassed Passover? Now is their feast of unleavened bread, and do they choose this as a time to sacrifice the life of this bread of life, to their soured leaven of maliciousness; this feast they kept in memory of that their deliverance out of Egypt, so miraculously and that suddenly wrought, that they had not leisure to leaven their bread at their departure, & can they now at the same feast find such leisure to feed, to feast their eyes on this so lingering a death, of that so speedy a deliverer? how strangely do they cross his blessings; he then delivered them out of the hands of their enemies, that they might serve him without fear, and will no other then the same time serve turn, to deliver him into the hands of his enemies, that they may kill him without pity? And yet how much water of comfort doth he strike to us out of this hard rock of their malice. Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us (says the Apostle) which that it may the more fully appear, the time as well as place shall speak him the real truth of that Paschal figure; when Israel had first entered Canaan the morrow after the Passover was celebrated, the Manna ceased, the same is here again made good in this the true Manna which came down from heaven, he ceases to live, the morrow after the Passover: Nor is it but worthy the observation, that as his death, so was that their fatal siege afterward by the Romans as at the same place, so at this same time of the Passovers solemnities, that as by this general confluence of all the tribes at this time unto Jerusalem his shame, so might their ruin be the greater, the punishment oft times suits, as well as equals the sin, and corresponds to it as well in the kind, as the degree, the same time doth he take to give them up into the hands of the Romans, which they had done for him, the same Engine of the Romans power, works both their malice, and their mischief, and that at the same Passovers several annual celebrations, here they complain how great an enemy he was to Caesar, how justly therefore do they at the same feast after, complain how great an enemy Caesar was to them? the same feast proclaims Caesar now their only King, and anon their only enemy, so great an enemy, that at length they need no longer cry his blood be upon us, &c. They have blood enough upon them of their own, so much, that the Romans (as some report) usually manured their fields, and Vineyards with it, hedging them about many miles in compass with their sculls and carcasses; and of others that died not by the sword, so many of them were crucified, that at length there wanted crosses for the bodies, and at last places for the crosses, and of those that more unhappily escaped death, they who had valued our Savior at thirty pence, were usually sold to slavery thirty for a penny, so fully was that their own valuation, together with that their acclamation of crucifying; and imprecation of blood upon them, paid them home in their own coin, to their own desert, their own wish; and his their own time too; when men begin to take pleasure in their sins, God seems to take a pleasure too, though not in the death of sinners, yet in the manner of their dying, in making their own tongues, and sometimes their own hands and actions their Judges, & so (as David speaks) the sentence of their guiltiness proceeds against them. But

O my blessed Lord and Savior, thou in whose hands only are the times and seasons which man may not determine, but must attend. Yet give me leave to ask thee why thou madest choice of this time of feasting for thy death, was it to solemnize either thy bodies Funerals, or thy deaths triumphs, no, (questionless) rather to vniversalize thy sufferings, the place, the time, the manner of thy death, all speak thy purpose of spreading those thy sufferings (together with thine (arms) to receive all that come unto thee; or didst thou choose to die this public death, thus • n the worlds stage set up as a beacon on the top of the hill, and as an Ensign on the mountain, to teach me more to shame to sin, then to suffer, more to fear to commit the one, then to study to conceal the other? or was thy reason my desert, the reason of thy choice the desert of my sin: shame and confusion of face? O let me not think to separate those in practice, which thou at first ioynedst in Paradise, sin, and shame. Yet of the two let me ever fear more the sin then the shame, let me ever (Lord) so live, as I may neither fear to die, nor shame to live; let me so die, as I may neither wish to live longer, or to have died sooner. Thou (O Lord) art that true Passover, which still makest the destroying Angel of thy Fathers wrath to pass by the doors of my soul without slaughter, and yet, behold thou standst at the door thyself too, and knockest for entrance, as thou art then my Passover, so (Lord) be my guest too, pass not by thyself without knocking, without entering, knock on still at this the door of my soul by thy word, thy spirit, thy mercies, thy judgments, thou that hast the key of David, and openest where none can shut, not only knock, but enter too; say Ephata, rather then sails, make a forcible entry, thou art that stronger man in thine own Parable, and therefore cause thou art the good shepherd, the t • ue owner of this, though so poor a cottage, so unworthy, that thou shouldst come under its roof, and that by many titles of inheritance, of purchase, of recovery, and therefore justly mayst. O let not that other guest step in before thee, for if I do evil; s ••• e lies at the d • re too, but is in ambush to invade • • gainst that and all such entruders, thou who shuttest in the Sea with do • es, s • ut me within thyself, who art the •• ile, door of th • Sheep-f • l • , but when thou (O Lord) shalt knock; be ye open O ye gates sta • d wide open. O ye everlasting doors of my soul it 〈◊〉 the King of glory that would come in: so I have thine own promise for it, that I shall sup both with and on thee; with thee who art the happiest guest, salvation is this day come unto this house; on thee who art the truest Passover, Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us, as for other guests, into their secrets let not my soul enter, for other feasts their savory meats let not my soul too well love, after such heavenly Manna, what need, what taste is there in the white of an egg? he that eats of this bread, and drinks of this cup, shall never hunger or thirst again. 'twas at a feast (Lord) thy Parents lost thee, and here again 'tis at a feast that thou loosest thy life, and herein too the Baptist was thy exact fore-runner, in all time of my mirth then, good Lord deliver me.

XX His Mother he recommends to John, and John to her.

HOw poor a retinnew, do we here find about the head of the family, the Lord of glory? how many can be content to dwell with him on Mount Tabor, but how few follow him here to Mount Caluary? how close do they hang on him, while he gives them bread, but how soon drop they off, when he himself cries for drink? Oderunt pannos, (says the Prophet) they like well his robes, but not his rags, the Crown, but not the cross; how lately did they swarm in that sunshine of Hosannah, but how do they now take shelter in this storm of crucifying? of all those troops here is left but a few women, but one Ap • stle, and yet these two or three being gathred together, how truly is he (as he had promised) in the midst of them? He that provides not for his family, hath denied the faith; how gracious a commentary on that text of his Apostle, & that in his own example, doth the Author, and object of that fa • th here give us? how careful is he here to provide for this, though so small a remnant of his scattered family? his mother, and disciple, who would have thought he could have found either list, or leisure, amidst the busy puzzle of all these his distractive tortures, as to mind anything beside them? passions, whether of body, or mind, when extreme, usually engross all thought, and apprehension to themselves; yet shall not all the power and spite of men, and devils, and sins combind in one, so much surprise his plunged thoughts, but that they will reflect and cast some rays of comfort on his distressed friends; he will not fail however on this, though so restless a death-bed of his Cross, to make his will, and bequeath some legacies: but alas, what hath the Giver of all, now left him yet to give his Apostles, all save John fled, his garments divided, his skin torn, his blood spilled, nothing left about him, but his loving mother, and beloved disciple; and them not knowing how better to bestow, he mutually gives each other, Woman behold thy Son; Son behold thy Mother. But (alas) how short, how wanting a supply, can any adopted Son be for one so natural, so supernatural, so unnaturally butcherd? he that was a valuable exchange for John, and all mankind besides, in satisfaction of his fathers justice, how lossefull an exchange must John needs be for him, in satisfaction of his mothers love? this holy woman, I know she was but a creature, and I know what is not a God, may possibly be made an Idol: yet do I not think it any idolatry, or popery, either to commend her sanctity, or commiserate her sorrow, so we neither adore her person, or inuoke her name: the best rule herein is the mean, to make her no more then a woman, nor no less then a Saint; however he cannot but be without natural affection (which the Apostle reckons up among the greatest crimes) that can consider her in the case, she here stands in without some sympathy, some interest, and compassion; who can with dry vningaged eyes consider her, her eyes weeping, her feet trembling, her hands wringing, her heart sighing, her soul bleeding drop for drop with her Sons body, now swooning with grief, now again reviving with love, how could she choose looking on him thus handled, mangled, without the skin she bare him in, without the blood she gave him; without either the milk she first gave him, or that wine, which afterward he gave her, glad now to suck instead of them their vinegar, and gall; no longer now in hers, but in the racking arms of his bloody Cross, hanging on tenters like a parchment skin a dressing, like a bottle in the smoke. If Peter were so transported with joy to see him so transfigured on Mount Tabor, how much more is she with sorrow, to see him thus disfigured on Mount Caluary? how could she look on him for grief, and yet how could she but look on him for love; the eye being the minds earnest, and constant messenger in the errands of affection. Mothers use first to taste their meat unto their children, nor questionless in the mutual interest of love could she but taste to him the vinegar, and gall, and what ever other torment he suffered, love ever shares with the object; no nail can be driven into his hands, but must first pierce her heart, the thorns cannot scratch his brows, but they must harrow up her bowels, no blasphemy or insultation can reach his ears, but must first rend her soul with anguish, and remorse; specially she having not only borne him to all this misery, but her sins among the rest having brought, nay betrayed, condemned him to it; nor may it be thought the least of his sufferings, that in all of the • she thus suffers with him, every tear of hers cannot but pierce him, deeper then their spear, not a sigh but more wounds his heart, then all those nails of theirs his hands; how savadge, how vnlegall is this their cruelty? their Law forbids them to seeth the Lamb in the dams milk; yet here how unnaturally do they at once, both boil this Lamb of God in the mothers tears, and the mother in the Sons blood? 'tis the conceit of some, that none of these, that here thus suffringly waited at our Savior's death, did afterward suffer Martirdome, as all the rest of the Apostles did, and most of the Disciples, such was their suffrance in their attendance here, as is passed for Martirdome, as well in dignity, as torment; it could be no other then a kind of death, to see life die, to be eye-witnesses of such a death, of such a master, whom they loved so well; Son behold thy mother. John's exchange too falls short of any full supply, as well as Mary's, what mother, though his own could love him so well as such a master? what exchange, what gain for such a Savior could make him any way a Saver? all the world to him 'tis but loss and dung (says Paul ) none certainly, but the gain of that the same loss, nothing could repair to him the loss of this his masters life, but the benefit of his death, and therein; how abundantly is the plenteous measure of supply to both mother, and friend, heaped up, shaken together, and running over? (with Themistocles) herein how had they lost, had they not lost? we read not of any dignified with more glorious prerogatives then these two, Mary, and John; the one bare our Savior in her womb, the other leaned on his breast, and yet how little had all this availd them, had not faith, and piety seasoned those outward privileges and made them truly gracious as well as glorious: yea, rather blessed are they that hear the word of God and keep it. Happier Mary in that she bare his sayings in her heart, then himself in her womb? in that she partooke of the merit, then in that she imparted the matter of his blood; 'twas not so much to the lovingnesse of her motherhood, as the lowliness of her handmaidship that he had regard, and that all generations call her blessed. And how much happier John too, in that he carried our Savior in his own bosom, then in that he lean'd on his? in that he lean'd and relied more on his inward bowels of mercy, then on his outward bosom of flesh? what did it steed Saul, that he was a Prophet? what Judas that he was an Apostle? outward graces without inward grace, close without truth, serve but to inhanse and dis-excuse a man's damnation.

But O my Lord and Savior, thou callest thy flock a little one, and hadst cold it before, that the Sheepheard being smitten, the sheep would be scattered; he • e how both little is it, and how scattered? and yet though scattered thus, though smitten into the place of Dragons desolation, how careful art thou of this thy little flock, thy waned family? O Lord I am one of thy family too, though a lame, unserviceable Mephibosheth, and that by a fall I took (as he) from my nurse, my mother Eve; though a Posthumus borne (with Paul) out of due time; yet can I not think that thou (Lord) who providest so carefully for the fowls of the air, and grass of the field, wilt leave me out of the check-roll of thy providence? no (Lord) I must acknowledge thou hast (as here) by thy best loved Apostle John, recommended, applied me to a mother, to thine own Spouse, thy Church. O let me in all filial reverence and duty, ever adresse me to her counsel, submit me to her discipline: It is the foolish Son (says the Wiseman) that despiseth his mother, but the Wise Son makes her glad. O apply then (Lord) my heart unto wisdom, my lips of faith, and love to those two Fountaines, of true wisdom, those thy two Testaments, the two everflowing breasts of this my mother, that thence I may suck the sincere milk of thy word, that I may grow thereby, that I may grow (like thee Lord) in favor both with God and man, ever making glad this my mother, thy espoused Church, both the militant one here, and triumphant one above, for even, there is joy too over one Sinner that converteth. But (alas Lord) how fondly do I sometimes sooth my self, and think how happy I should have been, what wonders I would have done, hadst thou committed to me (as here to John ) the entertainment of such a guest, thy dear and gracious mother? alas, how facile, how sensual a self-deceit is this? when as I have thy mother happily every day at my doors; whosoever makes a conscience of doing the will of thy Father, the same (in thy deviner Heraldry) is thy Mother, Sister, and Brother, and such thou hast committed to my care, and charge, and that with special instance, specially those of the household of faith, such let me ever (as John here doth by thy mother) take home to house, to heart, so shall I make friends, that will take me into everlasting habitations. Outward favors (I see Lord) and privileges, though nere so glorious prevail not without inward grace; nay, they rather disavaile, and aggravate; let me then as not thankelesly or c-slip them, so neither presumptuously over ween them, but as I would most suspect my purse in a throng, so let me ever do by that my truest treasure in the fullest throng and confluence of outward blessings, ever praying with that my mother, the church, in all time of my wealth good Lord deliver me.

XXI. They give him Gall and Vinegar, to drink out of a Reed.

TWas our Savior's complaint elsewhere, I was a thirst, and ye gave me not to drink, here he could not so complain, he hath no sooner said, I thirst, but one straight way runs for gall and vinegar to give him. How Strumpet-like are their grants, worse then their denials? how much worse his supplies, then his wants? how much more may he here justly complain (as in the Psalm) when I was thirsty they gave me gall to drink; and herein, how nimble are the feet of malice, though in the crooked by-ways of darkness? how swift to shed blood? 'tis not enough that they stand in the way of Sinners, no, nor walk in the counsel of the ungodly; no pace is swift enough in sins errands under that of running, one straight ways ran, &c. How much do these malicious wretches outstrip even those the Centurions Servants in speed and promptness; if he say to one go, he goes, but if malice say to one of these go, he runs; but alas, how much more, though nothing but destruction and unhappiness be in their ways, doth this their readier, heartier speed upbraid our leaden, entangled slowth in the race of godliness? is a Proselyte to be made, how will a Pharisee (Jewish, or Roman either) compass Sea, and land to compass it? is the wages of iniquity offered, how will a Judas thenceforth seek opportunity to betray innocent blood, though of a master, a Maker? is gall and vinegar here to be used in his torture? it shall not want either a thirsty care to entertain, or an itching foot to run such an errand; whereas, let God send and guide too Israel, though out of thralldom and that to Canaan, how do they grudge, and murmur all the way? is Lots wife sent though out of burning Sodom, yet she must have a glance backward, and at least look a loath to depart; let God send us into his Vineyard (though to work out our own salvations) one says flatly (as in the Parable) he will not go, another says, I will, but goes not, a third would fain go, but there is a Lyon in the way, every straw in that way is a steeple, every clod a Mountain, every brook an Ocean, and that how full of Remora'es, and Torpedoes of delay? all we either have, or can, or are, 'tis from him, and so all 'tis due unto him, and yet all 'tis still unworthy of him; and yet thus heart-bound is that little all of service that we do him, we pray as if we were afraid to be heard, we hear as if we were loath to be saved, and generally we serve him as if we were loath to please him; if the salt hath lost its savor, what is it else fit for but the dunghill? if the light be darkness, how great is that darkness? if our devotions be thus unseasoned, unsavory, vnlightsome, guilty, how great is that guilt. Our natural indissposednesse towards these offices of devotion, together with our enemies vigilant jealousies against them, and us in them, as they much commend the work, so should they as much adresse the doer. Nor is the foot of malice a readier messenger, then its heart a Megazine of such provision, this potion (it seems) 'twas not now to seek, one ran straight-way and fetched it, their rocky hearts were ever overflowing fountains of these bitter waters of strife, this poison of Asps, and yet will not our Savior to fulfill his own Scripture, and expiate our thirsting after that Cup of abominations, but thirst after it. And well might he complain of thirst, having now what with weeping, and watching, and fasting, and sweating, and bleeding, almost all moisture in him quite exhaust; and yet greater is his thirst of soul, then body, more after the impletion of our redemption, then any repletion of his own desires, the necessity of this draught which here he thirsts after 'twas not so much natura (as the Schools speak) as decreti, St. John is herein express, therefore is it (says he) that he said I thirst, that the Scripture might be fulfilled; he knew well enough, that the drink they would give him, would be out of that same bitter Marah of their inexhaustible malice, he knew that their Vine was of the Vine of Sodom, that their Grapes were grapes of gall, & their clusters bitter; that their wine was the the poison of Dragons, and the cruel venom of Asps; he knew that if he should ask bread, they would give him a stone, if a fish a Scorpion, he looks not from them compassionatly to be releeu'd, but abusively at once tortured, and (as they thought) deluded; he expects not to gather Grapes frō such thorns, only we had deseru'd it, the Scriptures had said it, that therefore our desert, and his decree might both be fulfilled, and so himself satisfied though still a thirst, (spite of all the known, both gall of their bitter sponge, worse poison of their spongy hearts) he will thirst, and taste too this their worst of malice; even this Cup too of theirs, as well as that other of his Fathers shall not pass in that his will, in this his word, in both our desert shall be fully done; nor shall this bitter draught be without its mystery, as well as Prophesy; what is this their hollow Reed, where with they thus abuse, and torture him, but a pregnant figure of that their Sepulcher-like Synagogue? that within it's painted our side of superstition, holds nothing but the rotten carcass of religion; an empty Reed in it's fantastic glosses, a hollow Reed in its dissembling gl • zings, a dry Reed in it's fruitless barrenness, a knotty sturdy Reed in it's obstinate perversenes, a wavering inconstant Reed shaken with every wind, a trustlesse broken Reede running into the hand, the heart of him that leans on it. This Synagogue of theirs 'tis no other then the Reede that before flouted his kingdom, and now his wisdom, abusing him with the vinegar of superstition (now vinegar-like degenerate from the true wine of devotion (which once it was) mixed with the bitter gall of scorn, & malice. But

O my blessed Lord and Savior, thou that art the Well of the water of life, of which who so drinketh, shall never thirst again, the Vine whence flows that purer Wine, which only makes truly glad the heart of man; shall not only men both taste and see how gracious thou the Lord art to them, but wilt thou both see, and here taste too how ungracious, malicious they can be to thee? nay, wilt thou not only take and taste, but thirst after the bitter'st of their malice? but (alas) how much bitterer was that mixed cup of thy Fathers wrath, and my sin? that thou seemest a while to shrink at, but this to thirst after. O let me ever then consider (Lord) that though my sins may seem to me sweet as stolen waters, yet to thee they are waters of gall, and wormwood, and worse, the vials of divine vengeance, since my heart then hath been a fountain of such gallish waters: O let my head too (with Jeremiah's ) be a fountain of brinish tears, that as Elisha healed those infectious waters by casting salt into them: so may I these poisonous waters of sin, by casting on them the salt tears of true repentance, and so I may be sure (Lord) my waters shall be turned into wine (as thou didst by that at Cana ) but didst thou thirst more to have my redemption fulfilled, then thine own wants relieu'd, and shall I not thirst more after the impletion of thy will, then of mine own desires? O let me do by thee (Lord) as thou by thy blessed Father; ever make it my meat and drink to do thy will, ever hunger and thirst after righteousness: let me not with those in Amos, pant after the dust of this earth, but (with David) after thee as the Hart after the rivers of waters. Let not (Lord I beseech thee) these their bloody feet of malice in thy torture, so much shame those of my love in thy service, theirs are not content with any pace, but running in sins errands, where the wages is but death: let not mine be behind them in the race of godliness, where the goal is glory; but with David, let me not only walk in the paths of thy precepts; no, nor barely run neither in the ways of thy commandments, but with him at lest wish that I had wings like a Dove to fly unto my rest: and in as much as sin, specially malice is the gall that still relishes worse with thee then this of their Reede, let me not only wish to have wings like a Dove, but strive not to have any gall like the Dove, in innocence and meekness of spirit, nor in that only, but like the Doves be my best music, a mournful remorsefull groaning, like the Doves, be my feeding not on the carrion of spiritual corruption, sin; but on the pure and choycer grain of thy word; like the Dove let me ever love and live in a sociable and peaceful union, with thy flock; like the Dove, let me love to sit by the clear streams of thy Scriptures, that therein I may (with the Dove) spy a far off the least shadow of that approaching vulture the devil, (like the Dove ) let me ever make my nest in the holes of the rock; thy wounds who art the only rock of my refuge; and lastly (with the pregnant dove) let me ever bring forth twins, piety, and charity, faith, and repentance.

XXII. He bows down the head, and gives up the ghost.

COnstraint and merit can hardly meet in any the same action, if the will concur not death it self, 'tis a bare execution and no sacrifice, therefore will he lay down his life himself, no man shall take it from him, therefore will he here bow down his head, that he may give up his ghost, men may crown and buffet his head, but they cannot bow it, man gave him not his life, nor shall he take it from him, he himself will give it, he will lay down his life, bow down his head, and give up his ghost himself: he did not owe it, no, nor did he barely yield it, he freely gave it; how much of violence have we here, and yet no coaction? he died willingly without constraint, cheerfully without murmur, freely without either debt of his, or desert of ours, he bowed down the head, and gave up the ghost; in all his Passion, let us but cast one eye on what he suffered, the other on how he suffered, and we shall still find, that though Judas betray him for gain, the Jews accuse him through envy, Pilate condemn him for fear, yet nothing makes him die but love; and this is it that thus bows down hi • head, and makes his yoke easy. The cross was though a painful, yet a lingering death, the torture being in the parts least vital, but most sensible, thence was it that most-what this Tragedie had a second part of breaking the legs, when boring the hands and feet, had not dispatched the crucified; but our Savior stays not deaths leisure, but (like David ) how resolvedly doth this Champion of the host of Israel meet this threatening Goliath death half way? that he did not die by little and little, fainting away (as others) appears plainly in that immediately before his death (says Luke ) he cried with a loud voice, which when he had done, he presently gave up the ghost, having first bowed the head, not bowing it because he already had, but because he now would give up the ghost: he bowed the head, and gave up the ghost. S. Luke calls this that spectacle, and indeed what ever spectacle so great? if for conflict here 'tis, the Prince of peace encounters the Prince of darkness, not Michael, but the God of Michael, & all the other Angels fights against the devil, and all his angels, not about the body, but the soul of Moses, and of every faithful one besides; if for conquest here 'tis too, sin, hell, & the devil with all those his principalities and powers of darkness, and spiritual wickednesses in high places are brought down, & lie forever vanquished at the foot of his cross; if for concourse, the living and the dead too are here assembled, many of the dead arose (says Matthew ) if for sorrow? here's sorrow beyond that of Hadadrimmon in the valley of Magiddo, the very elements, and heavens too bear (here) a part, and put on blacks; if great for subjects? here he it is that is made this spectacle, to whose eyes all the world is but one spectacle, if for Actors, here both Jews, and Gentiles, Priests, and Soldiers, friends and foes, nay God, and man have all (though several ways) their hands in it? 'twas in the house of his friends (as he complains himself) as well as hearts of his foes, that he was thus wounded, 'twas by the determinate council of God (says the Apostle) as well as the malicious councils of men, that he was thus crucified; if great for wonder? here 'tis, the Author of life, the God of life, life it self looses, or rather gives his life, the sting of death, the strength of death, death it self dies, and lies forever nail'd to his cross in his steed, and to make it yet more strange; he dies for none, but for them by whom he dies, for none but such as kill him, I, who then had not life, yet then gave him his death, and that more then either Judas who betrayed him, or Pilate who condemned him, he could easily have escaped Judas his treason, or Pilate's sentence: but (alas) how then should my sins have escaped the sentence of his wrath, without the treason of his death? therefore did he bow down his head, because I had lifted up mine too high, therefore gives he up his spirit, because I had given, mine too much down a subject, a slave to sin, and Satan. But,

O my Lord and Savior, thou Lamb slain from the beginning, slain both for, and by me before I had beginning, thou that not only before bowedst the heavens to come down to me, but that here bowest the head to go up for me, up into the heavens to prepare me a mansion with thee, how fully hast thou here proved the devil what thou call'st him, a liar from the beginning? All that a man hath (saith he) he will give for his life, when here thou givest up the ghost, and life for me, the least the worst of thine all, and didst thou thus freely give up thy life for the redemption of my soul, and can I stick to give up my life, or what ever else I can, or have, or am, for the testimony of thy name? What should I now fear death for? its sting is gone, this serpent can now but hiss at, not hurt me; yet, let me not, because thou art thus liberal of thy life; think thou art therefore so lavish of it, as to cast such pearls to swine, no, thou art that good Sheepheard, and givest thy life, but 'tis but for thy Sheep; let me not think then to be a Shrewe in malice, a Goat in luxury, a Wolf in cruelty, and how-ever flatter myself with a share in this thy free donation; thine enemies are by this time weary of torturing, and are (at length) a coming to dispatch thee, thy friends weary of weeping, and are gone to beg thee, the devils (it seems) weary of tempting, Many (says the Text) smote their breasts and returned, thou thyself (Lord) if not weary of suffering, yet willing to give our living, bowest down thy head to death, the Sun it self weary of looking on winkes, the earth weary of supporting, shrinks, and shrugges for freedom; and am not I yet weary of sinning; and so of crucifying again the Lord of glory? and yet dare I pretend to an interest in the benefit of thy death, if not yet weary of the burden of my sins; thou callest none but such as are heavily loaden, if I be not heavily loaden then with the shame, and grief, as well as the weight of my sins but then, thou never calledst me, and if I come vncall'd, can I expect any better welcome then that garmentlesse guest, friend wherefor art thou come, take him, bind him hand and foot, &c. • hou givest up thy spirit (Lord) into the hands of thy Father, & so did David, and • o Stephen, and so must I by mine too, if ever I would have it happy, thou thyself • ast authorized in me this boldness, humbly to charge thy Father with my souls custody, Father I will that • hose that thou hast givē me out of the world be with me where I am, for all mine are thine, • f then I be not taken from • he lap of the world, and in a devoted propriety given to thee, what hasty familiarity, what unprepared rudeness were it to commit that soul at last gasp into his hands, with whom I would not here trust, or acquaint it; as I must commend my spirit (Lord) into thy hands at death, so in life dost thou here commend thy spirit into mine, Ye have received the spirit of adoption, as I use thy spirit then here in life; so let me expect, thou wilt use mine at death, let me entertain then thy spirit here with a supper of grace, thou thyself hast both bespoke the fare, and invited the guest, the meat and drink thou hast told me, 'tis to do thy Fathers will, and the guest stands at the door, and knocks to come in and sup with me, that I may sup with him, stand open then ye gates, be ye wide open ye everlasting doors of my soul, that this King of glory may come in, that I may entertain him with this supper of grace, so shalt thou entertain me with a supper of glory, that supper of the Lamb in thy new Kingdom, let me not then quench thy spirit in those over-flowings of ungodliness, lest thou quench mine too in that lake that burns with fire and brimstone. But why Lord doth thy Apostle thus expressly record the bowing down of thy head in death? is it in way of appeal, that thy wronged head bows down thus on thy guiltless bosom, as consciously relying on the innocence thereof? or thy hands fast nail'd, doest thou hereby beckon a farewell to thy sorrowing friends? or dost thou bow it down as now at length weary of, and fainting under the heavy burden of my sins? No (Lord) thou herein rather bowest the neck for me to that yoke of obedience, of obedience to the laws doom, thy Fathers decree, and my desert; all thy sufferings as they wer • meritorious for me, so I see they were monitory to me thy wounded pierced side and bowell • preach compassion, thy not comm • ng down from the cross though dared constancy, thy silence to all their reproachful slanders patience, &c. But this bowing down hath a double lesson, obedience, and humility; how high a degree of obedience? he became obedient to the death, even the death of the Cross; how low a degree of humility? so far from arrogation of what is another's, as 'tis an abrogation of what is thine own the title of a King doest thou not stop thine ears (Lord from their scoffs? nor thy mouth from their gall? doest thou not withdraw thy shoulders from their whips? nor brows from their thorns nor hands from their nails? and dost thou yet bow down, and decline thy head from the title, and inscription of a King? Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews, didst thou before withdraw thyself from the power, and now thy head from the title of a King, and is this the lesson of all other thou bidst me specially to learn of thee who art humble and meek; and dare I catch more at vain empty titles of glory, with more pursuit, and edge • then at substantial endowments of grace? thou that couldst not dwell with pride (Lord) at first in the same heaven, sure thou wilt not dwell with it now in the same heart, thou that then tumbledst out a proud angel thence, wilt thou ever take in a proud man thither? let me be sure then with thee to bow down my head; my heart, before that I give up my ghost: 'twas ever thy method (Lord) to stoop, that thou mightest rise, thou humbledst thyself (says thy Apostle) and so thou wert exalted: nor is this gesture but very suitable to the work in hand; now art thou about to give up the ghost as a sacrifice for my sins, the head therefore shall supply the office of the restrained knee, and bow in reverence to so great a sacrifice, and didst thou bow the head (Lord) in giving thee, and do any think it mu h to bow the knee in receiving thee? but how well (in many respects) mightest thou say, that thou powredst out thy s ule to death? whither we respect the freeness, or abundance of the gift, thy blood, 'twas neither a straining, nor a sprinkling, but a free and full pouring of it; and didst thou thus give up thy ghost, thus pour out thy blood, thus freely, thus fully for me? and can I be so eye so heart-bound, as not to pour out some tears to thee? to thee I say, for thee I dare not, thou neither wantest, nor desirest them, nay, thou deni'st them, weep not for me, and yet thou allowest, thou enioynest me to weep for myself, and commendest the woman for washing thy feet with her tears, and commandest her example to record; true (Lord) thy death in respect of thyself 'twas free, and willing, thou gavest up the ghost, and so I must not lament it, I may not weep for that which I must pray for, thy will be done, 'twas my sins that made it necessary, and so I may, I must lament it, at lest the cause of it my accurs'd desert; lend me then thy fountainous eyes (O Jeremiah) weep no more for the captivity of thy people (alas) my harder thralldom under the tyranny of sin more needs them, if strangers bereave thy nation of their Country; behold here thy Country hath bereaved my God of his life, let us call our sorrows (as Phineas wife her son) Ichabod the glory of Israel is departed, both the light of the Gentiles, and glory of his people Israel is here, thus mangled, thus murdered, and that for me the obscure reproach, and shame of mankind; and yet here is some comfort too, that though the glory of Israel be departed, and departed too from Israel, yet 'tis to come unto us Gentiles, so that we now have both the light, and the glory, who had long sat in darkness, and in the shaddow of death.

XXIII. The mourners at his death.

• The Sun.
• The Earth.
• The Rocks.
• The Dead.
• The Vayle.

The Sun is darkened, the Earth trembles.

THis evil and adulterous generation were ever itching after signs, and they must be signs from heaven, Shew us (say they) some sign from heaven; And what better sign can they have from heaven then this, that he was both the world's Creator, who had then said of the heavens, let them be for signs, and it's Redeemer too who had here done what he had before said, Behold I clothe the heavens with blackness, and make sackcloth their covering. If we look into the Book of Deuteronomy, we shall often find Moses calling heaven and earth to witness against Israel, in case of breaking the covenant between God and them, and indeed what better witnesses, what witnesses so competent? the two properties of a good witness, are ability, and fidelity, ability to know what he speaks, fidelity to speak but what he knows, David gives his word for both, for ability, what such witness as the Sun that goes about the earth, sees all things, and nothing is h d from the heat thereof, for fidelity he calls them the faithful witnesses of heaven that cannot fail, and how fully do they here acquit themselves, and discharge their surety David of this his suffrage? the Covenant is here broken, the Ark and Author of the Covenant crucified; nor heavens, nor earth can dissemble it, the heavens ashamed in the behalf of frontlesse man, put on a modest veil of darkness, the earth afraid in the behalf of willful man, trembles with astonishment, the elements of nature cannot but suffer with the God of natu • e, and for the now unnatural prodigy and reproach of nature, man: the heavens before had in the flood, wept for the sins of man, but now they will put on sadder blacks, and more inwardly though drily mourn, as despairing with all their tears, to drown so mountainous a sin as this, the murder of their Maker; how ready, and addrest an instrument is every creature to God's will, and glory, save man, who was made to no other end: at that slaughter which sometime Joshua had upon God's enemies; how like a glad and eager spectator doth the Sun turn night into day, lest it might loose the sight (asit were) of any the least scene of that Tragedy? Again, at this slaughter here of this our saving Joshua, by these enemies and fighters against God? how like a modest David doth it turn away it's eye from beholding such vanity, turning again the day into night, hanging out against them Alexander like the last, and blackest flag of it's defiance darkness? the heavens (says David) declare the glory of God, and (indeed) how well do they here declare his glory by not declaring their own, this is he that spreads out the heavens as a curtain, and therefore now they will spread out a curtayne of darkness between his naked body, and the immodest eyes of men. And (indeed) how pregnantly do they here, by turning day into night, condemn of prodigy and unnaturalness this sin of man, the destruction of his Maker? men go about to put out the true light, the heavens will therefore put the day, and so upbraid with darkness this their deed of darkness; and no marvel 'tis from that Sun of righteousness, that this Sun of nature (as the Moon from it) borrows all its light, how can it then but alike loose its light, when that hath lost his life? how should it but (Moon-like) labor in an eclipse, when such an earth of sin hath interposed, and broke off the rays of that eternal Sun from embeaming this? yet was it not without so great a miracle in nature, that a Heathen could at first sight say, either the world is ending, or the God of nature suffering; True, at Joshua's command the Sun stood still, and at Hezekiah's prayer, it went backward, but utterly to loose its light (as here) as it seems more free, here's neither command, nor prayer, so 'tis more myraculous, light is in nature more inseparable from the Sun then motion, That a light should strike Paul blind in his way of persecution, 'twas much, but here's a persecution, and of the same sufferer too that strikes the light it self, the eye of heaven quite blind. But was it not the greater wonder that it did no more? May it not be thought that therefore shall the heavens at the last day drop like wax, and guiltily shrink and curle up l ke parchment, that did but wink only at these wretches, and not spit fire on them, as on those Captains, and their fifties that came to take Elijah? Alas, no; the heavens were not faulty, 'twas our Savior was not so fiery, let Elijah ride to heaven on a fiery Chariot, he will not thither but on a bloody cross, the heavens know their offices and seasons, and the Sun it's going down, and are as addrest and ready as the Centurion's servants; but he to show his mercy did not end, no, not with his life; the Sun shall but warn, not harm them, it shall not utterly set in a cloud, or go down upon his wrath, whereas the Egyptians darkness lasted three days, this shall but last three hours: if at Joshua's valor, then the Sun stood still amazed, no marvel if at this greater miracle of his mercy it be quite struck blind with astonishment. And (indeed) how happily to us did he here bring (and that how much) light out of this darkness. Here in this darkness was it, that all those darsome shadows of the ceremonial law vanished, and were lost; they began in darkness on Mount Sinai, and here again they end in darkness on Mount Caluary; nor is this darkness thus a figure of a burial only, but of a birth too, as it is a shroud, or grave of that ceremonial darkness, so is it an ominous figure of the inward darkness of their withholden minds, wherein these heart-vayled Jews have ever since grop'd even at noon-day; nor doth the Heaven thus better figure the burial, then the earth the death of that law of ceremonies; only whereas the mountain alone at its birth, travail'd with its throes, and tremblings, here at its death, the whole earth hath its convulsions, shakeing fits, and pangs of dissolution; so may this staggering of the earth too be a pregnant, and threatening figure of the Jews now giddy tottering Synagogue and nation, ready to be shaken over the whole earth. And (alas) how should the earth but thus shake and stagger, when as this it's true Atlas, hath his shoulders thus torn with whips, bruis'd with the cross, loaden with a double burden, either so much heavier then the earth it self, man's sin, and God's wrath; no, but that's not it neither, for he hangs the earth (says Job) on nothing, it needs no other Pillar but his word, and with it hath he laid (says the Psalmist) the round world so sure, that it cannot be moved at any time; true, all natural earthquakes are but partial, otherwise the earth could not still be the worlds center, which in nature must be ever immovable, no wind or breath can move the whole earth at any time, but that of his word who first made it, and to that 'tis but as the dust of the balance; but as the drop of the bucket, as the least word of his mouth made it of nothing, so the least breath of his nostrils could as easily have blown it back again into that nothing whereof he made it, as thus have shaken it out of his place, tremble then thou earth at the presence of the Lord (says David) at the presence of the mighty God of Jacob, but why then doth it thus tremble at his absence, when the glory of Israel is departed? was it to shake from off her weary bosom such a murderous, upbraiding, burdenous brood of hers; or doth it shake thus in a just derision of those scornful wretches that here shake their empty heads at its almighty Maker? or by sucking into its enriched veins, the quickening blood of life it self, is it now grown animate, and motive? or being so made red earth, is it become another Adam, and now a falling? or doth it fear the fall of that insupportable burden of our sins, from off the weary shoulders of the complaining bearer, might crush it again into it's wonted nothing? Why h • p ye so ye hills, what ail ye that ye skip like Rammes, and thou earth that thou tremblest? he that makes the question finds (elsewhere) the best answer to it, the earth trembled and shook, the foundations of the hills moved, and where shaken because he was wroth; 'tis no other then God's wrath at man's sin that shakes the earth, that darkens the heavens, that threatens the foundations of the world, that discomposes the whole course of nature, the whole creature travels, and groans under the weight of sin (says the Apostle;) how ever with Solomon's fool we make it but our pastime, 'tis sin that cursed the earth at first, that drowned it after, that shakes it here, and shall burn it at last; not • arth, nor heaven could bear it without a curse, not earth without the curse of thorns, not heaven without this (here) of the tree; he was made a curse for us. How instructive and exemplary are the lowest, the unworthiest of the creatures to us, if observed; the dull heavy earth had before taught its issue man, the lessons of a fixed constancy, a low'lie humility, a fruitful pregnancy, an ingenious gratitude in returning heavens influence of rains and dew, in the incense of mists & vapoures, these are not enough unless it here read him a lecture too of fear, and reverence, how to work out his salvation with fear and trembling, how to entertain his Savior's passion with a trembling compassion.

But O my blessed Lord, and Savior, what becomes the while of the faces and hearts of men? when the heavens are fain to teach the one shame, the earth, the other fear? the Sun ashamed to look on this dismal spectacle of their cruelty winks, the earth afraid to be made but the stage to it shrinks, and shrugs to be rid o'nt; and do men yet go on in despite of both? how well may the heuaens, and earth say to us, as the children each to other in the market place: we have mourned to you, and you have not wept ) shall thy dea • h (Lord) darken the eye of the seeing Sun, and shall it not wet the eye of the doing Sinner? how doth the Sun of nature suit it self to the Sun of righteousness in being thus blinded? and shall not my more interested eyes sorrow with such company? without which they can neither sorrow to see, nor see to sorrow? without which they had eternally sorrowed in utter darkness: before that last day (Lord) thou hast told me, the Sun shall be turned into darkness, and the Moon into blood, and so wert thou before this last day of thy life: turn me so too (Lord) before my last day into that darkness of sorrow, that blood of martyrdom, that daily martyrdom of Paul's, mortification: thou often callest thyself (Lord) light, and how truly doth it here appear thou art so? at thy birth thou broughtest light into the world, the night was then turned into day, a light shone unto the Sheepheards watching over their flocks by night, and though 'tw • re night, yet the Angel tells them this day is borne to you, &c. Then was fulfilled that of the Psalm, the night shineth as the day; so, at thy death again did I thou take the light away with thee that day is here turned into night, here is fulfilled that of the Prophet, then shall I cause the Sun to go down, at noon, and I will darken the earth in the clear day: in as much then (Lord) as it appears that (both in thy birth and (here) at thy death again) thou art the light that lightens everyone that comes into the world; even so come (Lord Jesus) come quickly into my dark, benighted heart. Turn its night of ignorance into a day of true light, and if at any time thou leavest it for a time (as here thou dost the world) turn then as here my day into night, a night not of sin, but sorrow, let heaviness endure that night, and no joy come until the morning, that morning when thou that day-spring from an high shalt again visit me; thou shewedst thyself Lord to the Israelites by a cloud, and to those Wise men but by a star, and here to the Jews if by the Sun, 'tis but by its darkness, not lighit how much more graciously, more gloriously doest thou vouchsafe to show thyself to me in the bright Sunshine of thy Gospel? how much more inexcusable I, if I walk not, if I delight not in this thy greater light? here (I see Lord) what thou meanest by those thy frequent acclamations to the heavens and the earth for audience. Give ear O Heavens, and hear O earth &c. And well (Lord) mayest thou thus startle and vpbra • d deafer man by the Heavens and the earth's thinner-eard attention, they hear thy groans not without sorrow, trembling, and compassion, whilst men that cause them slight them, with either, an Idols or an Adders ear, that cannot or that will not hear; shall the earth tremble more on which, then I for, and by whom thy blood was shed; shall corrupt Felix tremble at Paul's preaching of judgment, and shall not I at thy suffering of execution? shall Balthazar quake so with enter-feering knees & joints at the hand writing upon the wall and not I at thy hands here writing thy last will and testament in blood upon the Cross? who am I that am but a clod of that earth that here thus trembles, spurnd to dust by every foot, and then scatterd by every wind, that I should not quake, and tremble with that whole, whereof I am the weakest part; for that head, whereto I am the unworthiest member? how much otherwise have I unmade myself from what, and whereof thou first madest me, if I tremble not with the earth (here) of which, and at thy death by whom I was made.

XXIIII. The Rocks rend, the dead arise.

Jerusalem from its rocky situation is called by some Civitas petrosa, the rocky City, the inhabitants might as well give it that name, as the soil, its foundation was not so stony as the people's hearts, or rather had their hearts been but of stone, they had here rent a sunder, as the rocks themselves do, what should work on such harder rocks, but the fire of hell, vinegar of tears? did not the dull earth upbraid enough their relentless cruelty, but must the harder rocks yet further shame them? and (indeed) how fully do they shame them, how foully? if men shut their more rocky bowels against their Savior, as glad to give him his death, the rocks will open their softer bowels to him, as in them proud to give him his grave; he himself not long before had said it, if men should hold their peace, the very stones would cry in a confession of him, here 'tis made good, the louder eloquence of stones, supplies the stupid silence of men, rather then fail, the very rocks will strive to cleave themselves all into mouths to preach his funerals, and the Heavens will be the mourners, and wear the blacks; how more then stony are we if we learn not of these stones this duty to this our corner stone, to rend our hearts in compassion at his passion. Joshua a little before his death, takes a stone and erects it as a witness between God and Israel, Behold (says he) this stone shall be a witness unto us, for it hath heard all the words of the Lord which he spake unto us, it shall therefore be a witness against you, lest you deny your God, here this our Champion a truer Joshua, a little after his death, cleaves the stones, in witness that they have more tenderly heard the words which the Lord hath spoken unto us, and shall they not rise up in judgment, and witness against our more impenitrable, immalleable hearts, if they rend not with anguish, if they cleave, they gasp not in a spiritual thirst after this water of life, his blood? is that it that these rocks thus gasp for? or do they cleave themselves to discover their more harmless, softer in sides to this rock of our defense? or is it (as sometime for Corah ) to make living graves, to have buried them before their death, who would have killed him after his burial, swearing him dead again after he was risen. Or do the greater rocks break themselves thus smaller, and so fitter, to give them that their own death of stoning, that death which not long before they would have given him, but now is thought too easy, they had crucified this the chief corner stone, and now the stones ambitions (as it were) of revenge, would fain stone his crucifiers; he himself had not long before told thē, that God was able even of stones to raise up children unto Abraham, here 'tis made good, the children of Abraham are grown stones, and therefore God raises of these softer stones more natural children of Abraham, more filial in duty, more tender in compassion, in so much, that out of shame, and indignation, that stones should thus upbraid Judas-like vnboweld men, the very dead will rise in part to supply the deader numbdnesse of the living, resigning their graves to such deader living carcasses, at once to hide, and bury them. Dives was not so very an Infidel in hell, but that he did believe that if one should rise from the dead to his living brethren, they would sure believe, behold here are risen many from the dead, to these more faithless wretches, and yet so far are they from believing the dead risen, that they fall a suborning the living to swear that he himself by whom these rise, was not risen; nor is this myraculous conviction of their infidelity without its special prophesy, I will open your graves, and make you to come out of them, and (indeed) what better proof that he was that same God, whose property is to kill and make alive, to bring down to the grave, and to bring up again: what better taste or earnest of the power of his death, that he had by his death put death to death, and led captivity captive, that he was that stronger man (in his own parable) that had conquered and bound that strong man, death, and that in his own house, the grave, then that it is thus enforced to yield up to him its chayned captives? what conqueror ever led such spoils in triumph? the consumed spoils of death, and of the grave; the grave whose style before was the insatiate grave, here, it surfeits, and Judas-like having swallowed this sop, this incorruptible and so indigestible morsel of innocence, vomites up not only it, but its own bowels too, the incorporated dead, and no marvel if the grave thus surfeited not before us'd to such fare, but ever feeding with Noah's Crowe on the carrion of corruption, still but as a wayter on sins trencher, never on the bread of life till now; and how early too, as well as fully doth this power, and value of his death break forth? even to the Thief hanging with him on the tree to die, he promises the life of glory, and to the bones that lie in their graves already dead, he gives the life nature, and of glory too, these shall take possession with him (in the right of all the rest) some of the resurrection of the body, some of both body and soul; that all might know there is no hope of either, but by virtue of that his death. But, O my Lord and Savior, thou the only rock of defense, and yet a rock of so much offense too, the Lamb slain from the beginning; slain, and yet alive, and never more living, then now in death; but (Lord) doest thou show wonders among the dead, shall the dead rise up again and praise thee, shall thy loving kindness be shown in the grave, or thy faithfulness in destruction, shall thy wondrous works be known in the dark, and thy righteousness in the land where all things are forgotten? Yes (Lord) thou showest wonders (here) among the dead; rocks, and carcasses rend, and rise up to praise; O Lord, thou art the rock of my salvation and my refuge, shall I be less kind then to thee, than the rocks? thou art the strength of my life, and shall I be less living to thee then the dead? thou madest thy people Israel to suck oil out of the flinty rock, let me suck out of these rocks this oil, this benefit to supple, to rend my heart at thy torment, to open it for thy entertainment, otherwise if these stones of earth should herein condemn me, what should I expect for execution, but such stones from heaven, as thou sometime showredst down on the flying Amorites, and then what rocks shall I call on to hide me from the wrath of thy Throne, when the rocks themselves discover their own in-sides at the horror of thy cross? thou (Lord) art that true rock of Rephidim, whence flows the water of life. Thy Apostle tells me, that rock was Christ, both a fountain, and a shelter to all thine, out of this fountain (Lord) give me to drink that I never thirst again, hide me in thy secret place, and set me up on this rock of stone, into a cleft of this rock put me, as thou didst by Moses, when thy glory passed by, it is the only hiding place from the storm, and from the tempest. But (O Lord) though the horror of thy sufferings pierce the rocks above ground, shall thy wondrous works be known in the dark too, shall the dead rise up and praise thee, who will remember thee in the pit? Yes, here are some (it seems) more mindful of thee in the dark grave of death, the land where all things are forgotten, then usually I am of thee in the lightsome sphere of life of knowledge; if at thy death I start, I rise not out of that more insatiate; darksome, loathsome grave of sin may not Solomon justly praise the dead that are already dead, more then the living that are yet alive? mayst thou not refuse the counsel of those Angels, and do well to seek the living among the dead: he that will not leave a life, for thee, is not worthy of thee, how much more a death, a grave, and that of sin? if I rise not out of this grave of sin, how should I ever think to bury my dead, my sins: in those graves of thy wounds? nor do these dead (Lord) here only arise, but (as the Text hath it) appear to many, nor let me account myself risen from this, grave, unless it appear in newness of life, though as on Lazarus some grave clothes, some remnants of sin, will still stick on me, yet let me with him the stone of heart-hardness, being taken away, come forth to the light, that the glory of God may appear, so shall I be sure to have my part in that first resurrection, on which the second death shall have no power, so shall I be able in right of this thy conquest over death, and the grave, to trivmph, and say, O death where is thy sting, O grave where is thy victory.

XXV. The veil of the Temple is rent from the top to the bottom.

IT was a custom among this people of the Jews, at the hearing of blasphemy to rend their garments, we may see it in the high Priest at that pretence of blasphemy in this our blessed Savior, how pregnantly, how justly then doth the temple (here) upbraid these their own blasphemies 'gainst him in this their own custom of rending the garment: And indeed how could it do less? it is the Lord of the Temple that is thus blasphemed, and can the Temple of that Lord, but suffer with him? if David rend his clothes at the death of his friend Jonathan, can the Temple do less at the death of its friend Jesus? how true a friend, a Champion both to the Temple, and the Law, let that his zealous vindication of the one from the trash of Merchandize and burdens, of the oath • from the more profaning, burdening glosses of the Pharisees, bear him witness. Well then might the law, and temple rend this their vayly garment at such a death, of such a friend; so false was that their pretended cavil of his enmity to the Temple, that the very Temple it self as sufferingly conscious of the injury, will among the rest, the heavens, the earth, the rocks, the dead, make a mourner too at his funerals; and rend this its garment, as if willing to be rid of so unseasonable a crimson one, to get one more suitably sad; the Sun puts on a veil of darkness, as otherwise too glorious for such a spectacle, the Temple puts off her veil of colors, as now too gaudy for such a funeral, all things in their way suffer with him save only man, for whō only it is he suffers all, he died neither for heavens, nor earth, nor rocks, nor veil, but for us men, and for our salvation, for us, and by us too, if we bear not then a part in this so universal sorrow, what can either their sufferings be but to our greater shame, or his but to our greater judgment? doth he take us into the glorious fellowship of the sons of God to him, and do we exclude ourselves out of the compassionate fellowship of the sons, the elements of nature towards him? do we call ourselves his followers, his members, and do we suffer less with him then his insensible by-standers, and spectators? true, the Temple is his house, but we are his household, and shall the house mourn more at his death then the family? nor are these his mourners without their significance as well as sufferance, the • e four, the heavens, the earth, the rocks, the veil, as they exemplarily teach us repentance, so extensively do they teach us faith, as the burden, so the benefit of his passion, and that in an effectual extension of it to some of all these suffering places, in heaven to the Saints, and (as some think) to the Angels in their establishment, in earth both, to the living and the dead too, and among them to some of both kinds, the heart-vayled Jews, and the rock-hearted Gentiles; if the mystery hold, the moral will be this, none share but such as feel his sufferings, to such only, heav • n is opened, the grave conquered, the rock of all true refuge cleft for them to shelter in, the veil of all those legal types and ceremonies, rent and done away, so that now this the true holy of holies, is no longer to them shadowed, but that now they may look on him better then the people on his shadow. Moses when he then had but talked a while with him, without any other veil then (what the Apostle so call • ) his own flesh; here did this Sun of righteousness break forth, and dispel that cloud of figures, here did the day spring from on high visit us, and chase away those shadows of the night, here's the way into the heavenly Sanctuary opened, here the veil it self makes a fall, and real comentary on that our Savior's last text, it is finished. If any ask what is finished? the veil in way of answer rends it self asunder to let us see here finished, the Fathers wrath, the Sons sufferings, man's redemption, the devils doubts, the Priests designs, the perdictions of the Prophets, the expectations of the Fathers, the curse, and ceremonies of the Law; the curse of the moral, and use of the ceremonial, yet let not any vnhearded, vnheaded, or rather too too heady Schismatic henceforth conclude the vselesnesse of all present ceremonies in the Church; let him know that they are but the ceremonies of type, and figure, that are here abollish'd, not those of rite, and order: Unity it is the ground-weak of nature, the very Atlas of the Being of all things; love and order are the two shoulders of this Atlas, order protects that unity that love attracts: were it not for these, how soon would the Church, the world it self crumm'l out it self into miscarrying factions, fractions of dissolution? even the sacred Trinity it self; that architype of unity, is not without order, such order as that equality of Deity permits, an order coordinative, though not subordinative, an order of priority, though not of superiority; and as in that Kingdom of unity, so in that other of confusion, hell, there is order too, the devils themselves have their Prince Belzebub, that kingdom of darkness, if either divided 'gainst it self, or altogether disordered in it self could not stand; let the Papist then make his Church (like the mushrome) all head, nobody; the Brownist his, like Pliny's Acephaloi, all body, and no head; let not us make Christ's mystical body less organical, then his natural, but proportionally knit together in the use-full variety of the several members, by the sinews of love, and order; how weak and superstitiously spleenish thē is the rage of the Brownist 'gainst the Church of God, about her ceremonies, how poorly borrowed from Rome it self, who out of hatred to the tyranny of the Tarquins, bannish'd the very name it self in a good Consul, so called; though the veil be rent, the Temple hath not lost all her other ornaments, in which, so there be in their number paucity, in their nature purity, in their use decency, I see no reason why the same God should not now (as heretofore) be worshipped in the beauty (as well as duty) of holiness: holiness becometh his house, and worship him (says David) in the beauty of holiness. But,

O my blessed Lord and Savior, thou who art that true holy of holy's, so long vayl'd, and shadowed by types, and figures, but now pervious to the weakest eye of faith in thy word, & Sacraments, give me leave to ask thee why thou so long show'dst the Sun by a candle, thyself, the true day light, by these weaker glow-worms of legal types? Didst thou envy man's happiness in knowing thee; alas no, 'twas in that knowledge thou madest him happy; at the first didst thou need those sacrifices? no, all the beasts of the field are thine, and so are the cattle upon a thousand hills: rather (ô Lord) to confirm the faith of thine by the exact impletion of all those prophetike types of thee, in thee, so that if now any vn-Israelited Jew have that unseasonable question of John's Disciples, still lurking in his heart, art thou he that should come? the veil it self of all those shaddowish ceremonies that bespoke thee, in way of answer rends it self into that confession of the Centurion: truly this is the Son of God; the devils themselves have now given over that, there if thou be, and confess, believe, and tremble, the Israelites garments waxt not old in all their journey, until they brought them home to Canaan, nor hath this garment of their Temple but lasted, until it hath brought them through the fleeting travail of their figures, to the flowing Canaan of his cross: (O Lord) as thou didst rend this veil of types to make way for my faith into thee, so rend (I beseech thee) that fleshy veil of infidelity, of obduracie from my heart, to make way for thy grace into it. But did not the barbarous Soldiers (Lord) spare thy garment whole; how comes it to pass then that this garment of the Temple scapes no better? Wert thou less thrifty, or more cruel to this of the Temple, then they to thine? no, but herein more merciful to me, this garment of the law, 'twas like Adams fig-leaf'd breeches, too short to cover my shame, my sin; like that covering in Isaiah, so narrow that I could not wrap me in it: in that therefore to prevent my trust, didst thou thus rend it, but thine own the emblem of thy all-sufficient merit, how mercifully, how providently didst thou for me keep that whole? let me not then with the self-saving Papist (against that thine own Parable) go about to put a new piece into the old garment, the new piece of mine own wrought, or bought merit into this old, yet strong garment of thine, what need I? it is both whole, and large enough, why should I then (as thou speak'st thyself) so, rend and take away from the garment, my rents of sin will so become worse; what should I so do less, if still a patching out this thy garment with shreds of mine own merit? then give thee the flat lie, and that in those thy last words upon the Cross, telling thee to thy face, It is not finished.

XXVI. His fide is pierc • d with the Spear, whereat there flows out water and blood.

THeir Sabbath now draws on, wherein 'twas not lawful to bear a burden, that their crosses therefore might keep their Sabaoth too (so full more of ceremony, then mercy is superstition) they, even the crosses shall not bear their burdens neither on the Sabbath, but the legs of the crucified are to be broken, the sooner to dispatch them out of the way; but our Savior's willingness to die for us, prevents this their superstitious cruelty, they find him dead to their hands; yet see how easily desire spreads, and itches into opinion, their own eyes shall not make them believe him already dead, not quite past suffering, until they have with a spear searched for life at the Well head it self, the heart: how truly might the Prophet say, that the sin of Judah was written with a pensill of iron; how well might he himself complain, after all suffering they have added wounds, sense, or life either, are not bounds wide enough for their malice, his life may, but that has no finitum est, no, not with his s • ffering; and yet cannot all their malice break the least bone of him, how plainly doth he herein prove himself the true Passover, of which not a bone must be broken, and so of him to the Psalmist. He shall keep all my bones, so that not one of them shall be broken. It is the generally received opinion, that the Soldier who gave this wound with the spear, was one Longinus who before this was blind, but by virtue of that precious blood that (here) sprang out on his eyes, from our Savior's side, he had his sight restored, and was hereupon converted, and after became Bishop of Capadocia, and in the end died a Martyr; how-ever, Physicians (as Augustine speaks) are usually liberal of others blood, but as sparing of their own; here 'tis not so, instead of the Patients arm, 'tis the Physicians own side that bleeds, instead of a Lancet a Spear, and that in the hands of a blind Surgeon, and yet as blind as he was, how right did • ee hit the vein, that vein which was the fountain of all our happiness, of both his Sacraments forthwith there came out water and blood. Here was that fountain opened to the house of David for sin and for uncleanness, here's blood to expiate sin, water to wash away uncleanness, what other is it but that river of Paradise parted into four streams, flowing into the four parts of the world? what but the door of the Ark, of the true Ark of the covenant, the only Ark of safety from the deluge of sin and death, a door of utterance, and of entrance too, whence flows to us the water of life, where opens to us a Sanctuary from all the pursuits of persecution; the Evangelist might happily have allusion to this use of it, as of a door, in using that word to express it, he says not penetravit, but aperuit latus: nor is this wound given but after death, to show that 'tis by his death only, the way is made into the heavenly Sanctuary: thus God brings light out of darkness, and makes the worst of their malice to serve his mercy and our advantage, what they make a wound, he makes a door, an everlasting opened gate of grace, of glory, what they use as a spear of cruelty, he makes a key of comfort, a key which only opens that way into Paradise, which the Cherubims sword had so long kept shut; this day shalt thou be with me in Paradise: what other is this spear to us, but the rod of Moses that fetches the true water of life, out of this the only rock of our salvation, to make way for us into the flowing Canaan of his side; Eve was built out of Adams side a sleeping, and here our Savior's spouse too his Church, is built out of his side a bleeding; Adam was first cast into a sleep, and so is he here first cast into the sleep of death, his death was no other then a sleep; I lay me down and slept: Here Joab again strikes Absalom thorough the side with a spear, hanging on the tree by the hairs of his head; when he had taken our sins and rebellions on him, our Savior was a very Absalom, an Absalom the son of a King, fayr • then the sons of men, whose death pacifies the Kingdom, 'tis by the hairs of the head too that he hangs thus on the tree, our sins he had made his, and they were more in number then the hairs of our heads; by those hairs is it that ou • Savior here hangs faster then by all their nails, thus the fierceness of man shall turn to God's praise, thus God can turn the bitterest waters of Marah, of malice, into the wholesome streams of his mercies, of his mysteries. But,

(O Lord) thou that breakest the bow, and knappest the spear in sunder; what meanest thou here (Lord) to be thus both tortured living and wounded dead? Wilt thou keep nothing whole, nor without nor within thee: thy Apostles they are scattered in the Garden, thy garments at the Cross, thy blood how many wheres? thy skin they have rent with their whips, thy ears with their blasphemies, thy back they have cloven with their furrows, thy hands and feet with their nails, and wilt thou yet have thy heart cloven too by their spear? would they with the sp • are kill thy soul too with thy body? what can the spear here search for in thy heart, who only art the searcher of all hearts? doth it (as David speaks) make inquisition after blood? alas, how should it hope for anymore after all these showers, these floods already spilled; doth it here seek for thy Disciples? they are fled; is it thy spirit? that is gone to thy Father: thou tellst me (Lord) of many mansions in thy Fathers house already, and art thou still making more for me in thine own heart? thy beloved Disciple leaned on thy breast, but wilt thou make a door for me into it, that I may lie yet nearer in thy heart? O let me not or ely (with Thomas) put in my hand, but my heart too into this thy wounded side; as Joseph did by thee, so do thou by me (Lord I beseech thee) ever in my greatest distresses take me from the Cross, and in this thy Sepulcher, thy side, give my restless heart a reposefull Sanctuary, put me (as thou didst thy servant Moses whē thou passedst by) into a cleft of the rock, this cleft of thee the true rock of my refuge, so shalt thou pass by my sins, and I shall see thy glory. One of this side of thine there flowed not blood alone, but blood and water, as they flowed together out of thy pierced side, so let them ever (Lord) flowe together into my wounded soul, both the blood of justification by faith and the water of sanctification by grace; those which thou hast joined, let me not think to sunder, water and blood, 'tis thine own rule, except thou wash me, I can have no share in thee: thou art made to us (says the Apostle) sanctification and redemption, not the one without the other, 'tis a safe rule, what thou hast wrought for me, that in some measure thou work'st in me; thou hast not suffered for me, unless I suffer too under the burden of my sins, thou wert not crucified for me, except I be crucified too to the world, and it to me, thou dyedst not for me, unless sin die daily in me, thou hast not risen for me, except I rise too out of the insatiate grave of customary sinning, and that to newness of life, that life of grace here, or never hereafter to that life of glory.

The servant must be as his Master, shall I think to be a servant and not a follower, be thou then (Lord) as my price, so my pattern too, as my Mediator so my mirror, give me not only of the blood of thy side to expiate my sins past, but of the water too that I thirst not after them again. Curiosity (Lord) it is the moral spear, that not content with what flows from thee, presumes to search into thy heart for secrets, in some things let me affect rather a contented ignorance, then a curious knowledge, rather modestly doubting with safety, then wittily determining with danger, rather leaving it doubtful whether or no thou went'st locally into hell, then to go thither to see, in some things admiration is safer piety, then apprehension.

XXVII. Joseph begs, and huries his body, when Nicodemus had embalmed it.

WEe read of three Joseph's in Scripture, all three eminent & choice instruments of God's glory, and man's good; The first Joseph made way for Israel's relief in Egypt, from the famine; the second for Israel's Savior's escape into Egypt from the sword, both went into Egypt, the one to get the staff of life, bread; the other, to preserve the life of life, our Savior's. So doth this the third Joseph, make way for him too, & though neither from famine, nor sword, yet from his thirsty bloody Cross, to his quiet grave; the first Joseph brought Israel from Caanan into Egypt, but this Joseph brings the Savior of Israel from the tyranous Egypt of his Cross, into the Conquered Caanan of his Sep • lchre, where he vanquished that same Anak-giant brood of sin, death, the devil and hell, and that in their own territories the grave: The f • r • t Joseph brought Israel to Pharaoh, the second carries this Savior of Israel from Herod, and this third, begs him of Pilate; the Jews buy him of Judas and kill him, Joseph begs him of Pilate and buries him, and still how much better is he begged by faith and prayer, then bought in Crucifixes and Pardons; but alas, how much more doth Joseph cost him, then he Joseph? he spils his blood for Joseph, Joseph spends but a word for him and speeds, but 'twas a bo • d one, he went in boldly to Pilate, and asked the body of Jesus, nor may we think to speed with, or for our Savior, without a discreetly resolved boldness, he that fears when he hath to deal with man for God, betrays the cause to suspicion, himself to denial, and upon the matter God himself to the dishonor of unfaithfulness, unworthiness, as if he could shrink from the assistance of his own ordinance: fear both with God and man ever antidates denial. But what doeth Joseph's faith, and love Phoenix-l ke take life, but from the ashes of our Savior's death? we read of no discovery of either until now, it cannot be dissembled, but that Joseph's faith was hitherto but smoking flax, or if fire'd, but rak'd up in the paler ashes of a tongue-tied fear, yet herein appears it's truth, that at length (with David's) it grows hot within him, and breaks forth, and casteth ovt fear; a friend loveth at all times (saith Solomon ) but if that love at any time more appear, be it rather (with Joseph's ) in the storm; in Sun-shine friends, swarm like Bees, and dance like attomes, Joseph doth not so, him whom he dares scarce acknowledge amidst all the glory of his miracles, him he dares boldly beg, after all the misery of his sufferings, he is no Capernait, following him when he gives bread, forsaking him when he wants and cries for drink; No, he thirstes most after this water of life, when that it self complains of thirst, and begs him now, when he himself is become a beggar, Love is stronger then death (saith Solomon ) such is Joseph's, death is so far from killing it, as it gives it birth rather, and a kind of post-humall succession. I said I will go up into the palm tree, and take hold of the fruit thereof; What is the palm tree, but the Cross? the palm of our victory and triumph? What is the fruit it bears, but our blessed Savior? the first fruits of the resurrection, who ascends but Joseph? gathering this blessed fruit from this accursed tree, here grapes were gathered from thorns, the true vine it self, from this accursed thorn the Cross, Joseph's ladder here, and that of Jacob are not much unlike, both reached from heaven to earth, yet on Jacob's but the heavenly messengers, on Joseph's, the heavenly Messiah here descends, nor can it be conceived that this so passionate an office, could be done by so affectionate a servant, without strong ecstasies and ruptures of soul, in the preasse and puzzle of so many jarring affections, joy, sorrow, horror, fear, love, such aemulously striving, wholly to invade and possess him in it, joy tryūphed in the value of his enriching burden, having now his and the worlds Savior in his trembling arms, for whom he had so prosperously prevailed with Pilate, and of whom now he was so happily authorized to dispoyle the suffering Cross (and David-like ) to pluck this innocent Lamb out of the rending paws of this ravening care, nor can it be, but sorrow and horror should next have their scaene in his thronged breast, to see him so bor'd, so carv'd, so mangled, so nailed, that he cannot loosen his body, but he must widen his wounds, not able so at once to draw ou • all the nails, but that at last, one must bear his whole weight, and that weight stretch at once still wider, both wound and sorrow: and how could horror then but harrow up his bleeding soul? to see that the spiteful nails could not be as driven, so nor drawn, without drawing yet more blood with them, and when the nails were drawn, to see him still glew'd fast to his jealous Cross, by his own blood and gore; but that here sorrow again seasonably assists, melting with it's warmer tears the glewe of his congealed blood, then steps in fear, upbraiding the traitorous delay & sloth of sorrow, the disadvantageable curiosity and tenderness of horror, casting doubts of Pilate's pervertible facility to a possible reuocatiō of his grant, or of the Priests malice, or the people's fury, either probably enough bent, if possibly to disposesse him of the body before burial, to have exposed it to some further shame, if not torture, but (at length) the last, love, that conquers all difficulties, casteth out fear, dries the check of sorrow, immasculates the heart of horror, strokes the spleen of joy, becalmes all these gusts of passion, & gently brings him from the rack of his Cross, (whither malice had been still a pursuing him, from the cratch of his cradle) at length to the bed of his grave. Then comes Nicodemus with his ointments, Nicodemus who until now durst not own the Gospel for fear of the Law, coming to our Savior in faith, as our Savior to the world in judgment, as a thief in the night, weakly hoping better to find the light by the help of darkness, but now no longer sitting in darkness, or that sha • of death: fear he dares in despite of all the Synagogues envy, the people's fury, Caesar's enmity, become his Advocates Advocate, doth our Law judge any man before it hear him, the Annoynter of the Lord's annointed, and well may he imbalme his body with his ointment, who had imbalmed his soul with his blood; nor is he now less free, then fearless, a hundred pound weight of Spikenard, very costly; and now after they have all a wh • le wept a vie, and therewith together with their sighs washed and dried him, (nor need they anything but those their tears and sighs to thaw the ointment, and if need had been to have supplied it) they begin to anoint him, his mother at the head, where, as often as she looks upon those eyes of his, now dark and shut, wherewith he sometime shown regard to the lowliness of his handmayd, or on those lips now pale and breathless, which wontedly did but speak the word and it was done, whence sometimes flowed those sayings, which she so carefully treasured up in her heart, or on rhose temples now scratch'd, harrowed with thorns, which were sometimes the treasures of wisdom, and confuted all the Dostors at twelve years old, or on those his arms now stiff and cold, wherewith he shown strength, and scattered the proud in the imaginations of their hearts: how could she either choose but grieve to him, or choose (the eye being the minds pledge) but to see him that she might grieve? how could she look on him for sorrow? how could she look off him for love? how did she strive to breath life into him again with her sighs? how glad would she have been (Pelican-like) to have filled his empty veins once more with her blood? then Magdalene she knows her place of old, 'twas at his feet, she was already practiced in the washing them with her tears, and drying them with her hair and kisses, and now goes but over her old lesso • more perfectly, more passionately, her sorrow taking more weight and depth from the occasion, how did she chid the cruel nails, and their harder drivers, that could so bore, so dignity through those feet that never stood in the way of sinners, or trod the path of guile, how did she at sight of them thus pierced, pierce the air with her complaints, these or the like, (Alas Lord) didst thou complain, thou trod'st the wine-press alone, it seems so by thy bloody feet, for blood came out of that Wine-press, even to the horses mouths; hadst thou th • se wounds (sayst thou) in the house of thy friends? The ancient hospitallity of friends was shewn in washing, not wounding the feet of their guests, these sure were some such friends as Joab to Amasa, under pretence of friendship, how traitorously have they saluted thee too, under the fifth rib; some such friendlike fiends rather, as thou sometimes dispossessedst me of, which because thou therein brakest their head, they have thus bruised thy heel: alas Lord, where didst thou tread upon such asps and scorpions; hast thou past through some worse wilderness then thy people Israel met with between Egypt and Caanan? In all that their journey, thou sufferedst not their feet to swell, alas yes, my sins were more fiery Serpents, then those of their wilderness, and have wounded thee yet deeper too then these, these nails, and was it I (gainst whom thou didst defeat the foot of pride, and wert thyself feet to the lame, my crippled soul) that did thus pierce thy tender feet, thus wound, thus mangle them, and do I live to see it? why did ye so err, ye accursed nails? twas my heart deserved, needed your utmost sharpness to pierce it with compunction; which of you (ye inhumane murderers) is not yet so weary as can, or so kind as will drive them yet there, while they are warm with his blood? what better cordial? but the night draws on, which together with the people's probable incursion, and Pilate's flexible fluctuation, to prevent, they at length enshrowd him, Matthew calls it clean, Mark fine linen, nor may we think it only to express their devotiō in this office, that their descriptions are thus express, tis not certainly without some mystery, his natural body herein resembles his mystical his Church, this hath as it's ointment, so it's clean fine linen too, so hath his Church as the ointment of doctrine, (as John calls it) truth, so the clean and fine linen too of discipline, and decent ornaments, David calls it the becoming beauty of holiness; the ointment to preserve it from the putrifaction of heresy, the linen from the rents of schism. And now follow we him as mourners to the grave, but (here) where are those Egyptian Pyramids, those Mausolaan monuments, the pomp and cost suitable to such a coarse? heres not so much as a grave or shroud of his own, both are Joseph's & yet in some respects well suits such a burial, to such a death, well was he buried in another man's grave, when as he died but for other men's sins, nor will he now be buried, but in the tomb of an eminent & honorable Counselor, before he had finished the work of our redemption, he was still in the season of his humiliation, he will therefore in all birth, life, death, choose our desert a despicable poverty; here he begins his exaltation, now therefore he will reasume some glory, and that not without special prophesy, he shall make his grave with the rich, no nor mystery neither, but to show that what ends the wicked's, begins the good man's glory, death; so is it of special purpose and import, that his tomb is of rock; and that a new one of rock, to prevent all color of pretensible burglary in his Disciples of breaking it, and stealing him thence; a new one wherein never man before was laid to over-reach the wit of malice, which might else have pretended some other to have risen thence, or to have been the rayser as in that grave of Elisha; nor are these circumstances of more politick, then moral use; here's none of that hypocrisy of those Pharisaical Sepulchers guilded without, rotten within, nor like the Ark within and without, 'tis both alike, both rocks, and sure ones, though he was made a curse for us, yet in a kind of repudiation of Jerusalem, he will not have her curse though, here's a stone upon a stone; nor is the significance less of its newness then rockinesse, in his birth he lay in a womb wherein never man lay, in his life he rode on an Ass whereon never man sat, in his death he lay in a tomb wherein never man was laid, that it might appear he was in all three, more then man; or more morally to teach us that in that heart where he will dwell, he will have no in-mates, he brooks no competition, he is the true owner, and with that right mother will by no means yield to a division. But,

O my blessed Savior, thou to whom the grave is naked, and there is no cover for destruction, how fondly, how deceitfully do I sometimes sooth myself in thinking what wonders I would have done, had Joseph's case been mine, (alas) how much more nearer, how much more thyself are thy now living members, then thy dead, nay, then thy living body upon earth was (at • east) for ma • ter of thy care and compassion? in them • hou art still a suffering, why persecutest thou me? in the other, whilst thou wer • a suffering, thou madest thy face as a flint, and now long since it is finished. I need not say (Lord) with Mary, they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where th • y have laid him. Thou still lay'st thyself at my doors, at my doors both of house and of heart, in thy needy members, in thy blessed spirit; 'tis thou that art still hungry, naked, sick in the one; and behold, 'tis thou still stand'st at the door and knock'st, by the other; the Samaritan's carrying the wounded man to the Inn, was a work as acceptable to thee, as this of Joseph's carrying thy wounded body to the grave. But have I not been rather too in officiously forward in burying thee too often (after the Hebrew phrase) out of my sight? out of my mind? how often have I beg'd thee with Joseph, and refused thee offered in thy Word, thy Spirit, thy Sacraments? and if received thee; how soon have I choked the seed of that thy word, quenched the motions of that thy spirit, buried the talent of that thy Sacrament? how seldom have I (with Joseph) beg'd, and received, and laid thee up in the clean linen, and new tomb of a heart washed with tears, a spirit renewed by grace? but what? (Lord) didst thou in thy last will so graciously bequeath thy Legacies, thy mother to thy Disciple, and him to her, thy spirit to thy Father, thy Kingdom to the Thiese, thy prayers to thy murderers, and not a word of thy poor mangled body, or its burial? was it not enough that thou wouldest be borne without a chamber, live without a house, die without a bed, unless thou be buried too without a shroud, or grave either, of thine own? what do I then a caring thus to live softly, and die richly? be my life here never so despicably poor, shall I not be content to drink of my Masters Cup, who is the portion of mine inheritance & of my cup, without whom, fire and brimstone, storm, and tempest, this had been my portion to drink, and my cup had been full? Let me not then with the Epicure, first dignity my grave with mine own teeth, and then bury it in mine own security, but (with Joseph here) let me make my grave in the rock, in thee the rock of my defense, and then (as he) place it in the Garden of my delight: but what do I a seeking thee (Lord) in the empty grave with Mary? Thou art risen, thou art not there, risen and gone to heaven, thither let me follow thee, I know that there yet my Redeemer still lives, and that I shall see him with these mine eyes, thither being l • fted up, draw me Lord unto thee, though with Joseph thou wert th • s hated of thy brethren, sold, and thrown (as he) into the pit, and dungeon both, the grave, and hell; yet (with Jacob ) be it my comfort, Jesus my Savi • ur is yet alive, I shall go and see him when I die.