Fellowship with God - 28 Sermons

August 23. 1670.

IT is Ordered by the Lord's of His Majesty's most Honorable Privy Council, That none shall Re-print, or Import this Book of Mr. Hugh Binning 's, Entituled, Fellowship with God, on the 1. Epistle of John, Chap. 1.2. Nor The Sinners Sanctuary, on Rom. Chap. 8. Nor Principles of Christian Religion, all by the said Author, for the space of 19. years to come, without license of the Printers hereof.

SERMON I·

I T is the great qualification of a Disciple, or Hearer, to be attentive, and docile, to be capable of teaching, and to apply the mind seriously to it: it is much to get the ear of a man; if his ear be gotten, his mind is the more easily gained: Therefore those who professed eloquence, and studied to persuade men to anything, used in the entry, to fall upon something that might stir up the attention of their hearers, or make them the more inclinable to receive instruction, or catch their • avour or good-will, which is of great moment to persuasion: for it is sometimes fit to open the passages of the heart by such means, that there may be the more easy entry for instruction and persuasion. Truly there is something of this Art runs here in a divine channel; as indeed all these rules of human wisdom attain their perfection, when they meet with a divine spirit, that elevats them to a more transcend • nt use. Happy was that eloquence of Paul's, and something like the sweet inspi • ation of Angel • , by which they prevail with the • pi • its of men: Nevertheless, being crafty ( • aith he) I caught you with guile, • Cor. 12 16. The • e were, piae frauds, whe • eby he used to 〈◊〉 poor souls out of the pit, and pluck them out of the fire; and he that said, I will m • ke you fi • hers of men, taught them to use some holy deceit, to present some things for the allurement of souls, and so to surround and inclose them with most weighty and convincing reasons. This beloved Apostle who leaned upon Christ's bosom, and was likely to learn the very secrets of the art of fishing souls, you see how he goeth about the business; he useth an holy art in this Preface; being about to give a re-capitulation of the whole Gospel, and to make a short summary of the Doctrine of it, for the more effectual establishment, and confirmation of souls already converted, and for the more powerful pe • suasion of others to embrace it; he useth all the skill that can be in the entry, to dispose men's hearts to receive it; like a wise Orator, he labors to make them attentos, dociles, & benevolos: to stir up their attention, to conciliat their affection, and so to make them docile, and easily teachable: He stirs up attention, when he shows that he is not to speak about trifling light matters, or low things, or things that do not concern them; but concerning the greatest, most concerning, • nd important things to them, even the word of life, in which all their life was wrapped up: which though it was ancient in itself, yet withal it was a new thing to the world, and so for all respects deserved to be taken serious notice of. Then he conciliats their benevolence and good-will, by showing his own good affection towards them, and his great design in it, that it was only for their good and salvation, that he had nothing else before him, but to have them partakers with himself, in that same happiness: he had sound a jewel, and he hides it not, but proclaims it, that all men may have fellowship with him, and that is, with God, and that cannot but bring in full joy to the heart. Now a soul being made thus attentive, and willing to hear, it is the best disposition, that makes them most capable of being taught. If those two stays were come over; the careless regard that is in men's hearts towards the Gospel, and the suspicious thoughts and prejudices against the Ambassadors of it, then what would hinder to believe it? The great miseries of men are, Inconsideration, and Misapprehension: Either men are so noised with other things, continually buzzing in their ears, and their hearts so possessed with the clamours of their lusts, and the cries of the things of this world, that they have no leisure so much as to hearken patiently to this blessed sound, or to apprehend seriously what weight and moment lies in it; and so the most part of men cannot give that •• rnest and deep attention that is nec • ss •• i • y • equi • ed fo • this divine teaching; or else there a • e m • ny mistakes and misconception • of the Gospel, which sometimes arise to that hight of • easoning ag • inst God, and prej • dices against them that ca •• y this message; which usually a • e joined together, and the • e stop 〈◊〉 ea • s of men against the wisest and most powe • full enchantment of P • eaching, that it gains not much g • ound on them. O that ye would once listen to the Gospel, Hea • ken and incline your ears unto me, i • the Lord's fi • st great request: and i • once you do but se • io • sly apply your minds and hearts, to see what is held out unto you, and to prove what good i • in it, certainly these sure and eve • lasting me • cies will mercifully and sweetly c • tch you with guile, and deceive you, (if I may say so) to your eternal advantage. Wisdom, the Fathers wisdom, begs but an equal he • ing of you, let her have but a patient hearing, and a silent impartial judgment of the heart, and she will ca •• y it off all that suit you: It is lamentable that the voice of God should be out-cried by men's continual uninterrupted flood of business, that fills the heart with a continual noise, and keeps men in such a constant hurry and distemper, that they can give time and patie •• e to nothing else▪ and this is only the advantage, the world and the lust • of it have; for if they come once under a sober and serious ex • mination, and the other party, that is, Jesus Christ, and the Word of Life, might h • ve the liberty to be heard in the inward retired thoughts of the heart, it would soon be found how unequal they are, and that all their efficacy consists, in our ignorance, and their strength, in our weakness; Certainly Christ would carry it, to the conviction of all that is in the soul. I beseech you let us give • him this attention.

He that answer • a tale before he hear it, its a folly • nd weakness to him: A • olly certainly it is to give this Gospel a repulse before ye hear it: It promiseth life and immortality, which nothing else doth; and you entertain other things upon lower promises and expectations, even after frequent experiences of their deceitfulness: What a madness then is it to hear this promise of life in Christ, so o • ten beaten upon you, • nd yet never so much as to put him to the proof of it? and to put him off continually who knocks at your hearts, be • o • e you will consider attentively who it is that thus importunes you. O my beloved, that you would hear him to Amen, let him speak freely to your hearts, and commune with them in the night on your beds, in your greatest retirement from other things, that you may not be disturbed by the noise of your lusts and business; and I persuade myself, you who have now least mind of this life, and joy in God, should find it, and find it in him: But to cut off • ll convictions and persuasions • t fi • st, • nd to set such a gua • d at your minds, to provide that nothing o • that • ind come in▪ or else that it be cast out as an enemy, thi • is unequal, ignorant, and unreasonable dea • ing, which you alone will repent of, it m • y be too late, when past • emedy.

He p • opounds that which he is to speak, in the fi • t • st way for the commendation of it to their hearts: and Oh! How vast a difference betwixt this, and the ordinary subject of men's discou •• e • ? our ears are filled continually with reports: and it is the usual way of men to delight to hear, and to report, even those things that are not so delightful in themselves; and truly there are not many occur • ences in the world ( • uppose you had a Di •• nal of the • ff • irs of all men, every week) that can give any solid refreshment to the heart, except in the holy meditation of the vanity, vexation, and inconstancy that God hath subjected all those things unto. But its sad, that Christians, who have so noble and divine, so pleas • nt and profitable things, to speak upon one to another, are notwithstanding as much subject to that Atheni • n disease, to be i • ching a • ter new things continually, and to spend our time this way, to repo • t, and to hear news; and alas, wh • t a • e those things that are tossed up and down continually, but the follies, weakness • , impotency • and wickedness, ambition and avarice of men, the iniquity and impiety of the world that lies in wickedness; and is there • ny thing in this, either pleasant or profitable, that we should delight to entertain our own thoughts, and others ears with them? But the Subj • ct that is here entreated of, is of another nature, nothing in itself so excellent, nothing to us so convenient, That which was from the beginning, of the word of life, we declare unto you. O how pleasant and sweet a voice is that which sounds from Heaven, be those confused noises • re that arise from the earth? This is a Message that is come from Heaven, with him that came down from it: and indeed that is the Airt, from whence good news hath come; Since the first curse was pronounced upon the earth, the earth hath brought forth nothing, but thorns and b • iars of contention, stri • e, sorrow, and vexation: Only from above hath this Message been sent to renew the world again, and recreate it, as it were: There are four properties by which this infinitely surpasses all other things can be told you. For itself it is most excellent▪ for its endurance, it is most ancient; and to us, it is most profitable; and both in its self, and to u • , it is most certain; and by these the Apostle labors to prepare their hearts to serious attention.

For the excellency of the subject that he is to declare, its incomparable, for it is no less, then that Jewel that is hid in the Mine of the Scriptures, which he, as it were, digs up, and shows and o •• er • it unto them; that Jewel ( • say) which, when a man hath sound, he may sell all to buy it; that Jewel, more precious then the most precious desires and delights of men, even Jesus Christ, the substantial word of life, who is the substance of all the shadows of the Old Testament, the end of that ministry, the accomplishment of the promises, and that very life of all Religion, without which there is nothing more vain and empty. It i • t • ue, the Gospel is the word of life, and holds out salvation to poor sinners, but yet it is Ch • ist that is th • life of that woe • d, not only as touching the efficacy and power of it, but as touching the subject of it; for the Gospel is a word • f li • e only, because it speaks of him, who is the life and the light of men ; it is but a report of the true life, a • John said, I am not that light, but am sent to bear witness of that light, Joh. 1.8. So the Gospel, though it be called the power of God to salv • tion, Rom. 1.16. and the savor of life, and the Gospel of salvation, Eph. 1 13. yet it is not that true life, but only a testimony and declaration of it, it hath not life and immortality in itself, but only the bringing of those to light, and to the knowledge of men, 2 Tim. 1.10. it is a discovery where these treasures are lying▪ for the searching and finding.

To speak of this word of life, Jesus Christ, according to his eternal subsistence in the infinite understanding of the Father ; it would ce • tainly requi • e a di • ine • pi • it, mor • elevated above the o • dinary sphere of men, and sep • rate from that earthliness, and impurity, that makes us incapable of seeing that holy and pure Majesty. Angels were but low Messengers for this; for how can they express to us, what they cannot conc • ive thems • lves, and therefore wonder at the mystery of i • ? I confess • e, the best way of speaking those things, which so infinitely surpass created capacities, were to sit down in silence, and wonder at them; and withal to taste such a sweetness, in the immense greatness, and infi • it myste • iou • nesse of what we believe, as might • avish the soul more, • fter that which is unknown, then all the perfections of the world known and seen to the bottom can do. This Doctrine of the holy Trinity hath been propagated from the beginning of the world, even among the Heathens, and derived by tradition f • om the first Fathers, or the Hebrews to neighbor Nation • , and therefore they speak many divine things of that Infinit, Supreme Being, who is the fountain of the whole Creation, and that he created all things by his most divine Word, and that his blessed Spirit is the union and bond of both, and of all things besides. It is known what mysteries the Pythagoreans apprehended in the number of Three, what perfection they imagined to be in it: So much was let out, as might either make them without excuse, or prepare the world to receive readily the 〈…〉 should be 〈◊〉 • ev • ale • : It i • commonly he • d forth, that this eternal Word, i • the b ••• h o • the infinite understanding o • God, reflecting upon his own most ab • olu • e and pe • fect bein • ; which i • • llust • ated by some poor comparison to us Creatures, who • o • m in our mind▪ in the understanding of anything, an inward word, or image of the object, some rep • e • entation and similitude of that we un • e • st • nd, and this is mo • e perfect then an external vocal expression can be; so we have a weak and finite conception of the acting of that infinite wisdom of God, by which he knows himsel • , th • t the • e results, as it were, upon it, the per • ect subst • ntial im • ge, and the express character of the Divine Essence ; and therefore is the Son of God called, the Word which was with God, and the wisdom of the Father, because he is, a • it were, the very birth of his unde • standing, and not only the Image of his own Essence, but the Idea, in which he conceived, and by which he created the visible world. Then we use to conceive the H • lie • host, as the production of his blessed will, whereby he loves, delights, and hath complacency in his own all-sufficient, all-blessed Being, which he himself alone pe • fectly comprehend▪ by his infinite understanding▪ and therefore called, the Spirit, a word borrowed from • esemblance to poor cre • t • res, who have many impulses, and inclination • to several thing • , and are carried to motion, and action, rather from that part which is invisible in them; the subtilest parts therefore called Spirits : So the Lo • d applies his Almighty power, and exerceth his infinite wisdom, according to the pleasure and determination of his will, for that seems to be the immediate p • inciple of woe • king; therefore there i • mention made of the Spiri • , in the Creatio • of the woe • ld, He sent • ut his Spirit, and they were • reated, P • all. 104.30. These are the weak and low attempts of men to • each the height of that unsearchable mystery; such conjectu • es we have of this Word of God, and his eternal gene • ation, as if Trees could take upon them to unde • stand the nature of Beasts, or as if Beasts would presume to give an account of the spirit that acts in men: Certainly the distance is in • initly greater between God and us; and he must needs behold greater vanity, folly, and darkness, in our clearest apprehensions of his Majesty, then we could • ind in the reasonings and conceptions of Beasts about our nature. When our own conception in the womb, is such a mystery, as made David to sa • , O how wonderfully am I made, and fearfully ? he saw a curious art and wisdom in it, that he could not understand, and he believed an infinite power, he could not conceive, which surprised his soul with such unexp • cted matter of wonder, as made him fear and tremble at the thought of it. I say, when the generation of a poor creature, hath so much depth of wisdom in it, now canst thou •• ink to understand that eve • lasting wonder of Angel • , the birth and conception of that eternal wisdom of God? An • if thou canst not understand from whence the wind comes, and whither it goes, or how thine own spirits beat in thy veins, what is the production of them, and what their motions? How can we then conceive the procession of the Holy Ghost, which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor h • th it entered into the heart of man to consider it?

SERMON II·

THings are commended sometimes, because they are ancient, especially Doctrines in Religion, because truth is before error, and falsehood is but an aberration from truth; and therefore th • re is so much ple • and contention • mong men, about Antiquity, as if it were the sufficient rule of verity; but the abuse is, that men go not far enough backward in the steps of Antiquity, that is, to the most ancient rule, and pro • ession, and practice of truth in Scripture, to Christ and his Apostles, but halt in their Grand-fathers Tombs. But sometimes things a • e commended, • ec ••• e new; the nature of man being inclined to change and variety, and ready to su • fe • t and loath accustomed things: Even as the stomach finds appetite for new and unusual dyets, so the mind of man hath a sec • et longing a • ter new doct • ines, and things. Now we have both these combined together in this Subject, which makes it the more excellent and wonder • ul; Antiquity, and Novelty: for Antiquity, it is that which was from the beginning, and which was with the Father, and that is before all Antiquity, even from eternity; not only from the beginning of time, but before all time, be • ore all imaginable beginnings. He, of whom he speaks, Christ Jesus, the Fathers Word, was with the Father, from the beginning, with the Ancient of Days, who infinitely, and immeasurably, antidates all antiquity, to whose endurance, all antiquity that is renowned among men, is but novelty, to whom, the world is but as of six days standing, or but as of yesterday, if we consider that infinite, beginningless, immensurable endurance of God, before this world: What a boddom or clew is that, that can never be untwined by the imaginations of men and Angels; To all eternity they should never unwind it, and come to the end of that thread, of the age of the Father, and the Son; who possessed one another before the hills were, and before the foundations of the mountains: This is it that maketh Religion the rich • st an • most tra •• c • ndent subj • ct in the world, that it p • esent • us with a two • old ete • nity, and invi • o • s the soul befo • e and behin • with an eternity without beginning, only proper to God, and an ete • nity without • nd, communicated to Angels and men, from God. That which was from the beginning, and before all beginning, either real, or im • gined, How much moment • nd weight is in that, to persuade a soul, and compose it, beyond all the specious and painted appearances of the woe • ld? to consider that such • Savior is holden out unto us, to come unto, and lean upon, that is the Rock of ages, upon whose word, this huge frame is bottomed, and stands fi • m; one who infinitely exceeds and prevents all things, visible or invisible, all their mutations and changes, one who was possessed of the Father, as hi • delight, before the foundation of the world, and so most likely to reconcile him to us, and prevail with him; yea, most certainly, they must have one will, and one delight, who were undivided from all eternity; and they then rej • y • i • g in the h • bitable parts of the earth, taking complacency in their own thoughts of peace and good-will they had toward us, afte • wa • ds to b • eak forth. And if both delighted in their very projects and plots upon the business, what may we think the accomplishment of the whole design will add, if it were possible to supe • add to their delight? I would have you upon this, to gather two considerations, • o • your edification: One, to think what an incompa • ably excellent Savior we have, one with God, equal to him, yea, one with him from all ete • nity, and so how strong a foundation there is for faith and confidence? What a Rock to establish a tossed soul upon? Mans misery and curse being for all eternity, their is one to deliver from that, who was from all eternity. And who could purchase unto us such absolute bl • ssedness throughout all ete • nity, who was not himself from all eternity? What marvelous congruity and beauty is in the ways of God? How is all fitted and • ramed by infinite wisdom? to the end that we may have strong consolation. Do you not see the infinite evil, and heinousness of sin, in the giving of such a p • ecious ransom for it? O how is the black visage of sin portrayed in the beauty and glory of the Mediators Person? How is it painted, even to horror in his death? Again, what divinity and worth is put upon the immortal soul of man, that is but of yesterday, since the beginning? When he that was the delight of God, before all beginning, is weighted in the balance, as it were, with it, and no other thing found sufficient for exchange and compensation, that the soul may be redeemed: And doth not this answer all the jealousies, and suspicious thoughts, and fea • full apprehensions, arising from the consideration of our own weakness and infirmity? When such an one is offered, as is able to save to the utmost. Then I would desire you may believe, that the Father is as well minded to the salvation of sin • s, as the Son; • or they were sweet company together from all eternity, and, as it we • e, contrived this plot and design between them, to save and • edeem mankind. Some entertain ha • sher thoughts of the Father, as if Christ were more accessible, and exorable; but the t • uth is, he hath given his Son this command, and the • efore he professed, that it was not so much his will, as his Fathers, he was about: Therefore correct your apprehension • , do not stand aback from the Father, as it were, till you have prevailed with Christ, no, that is not the way; come in your fi • st address to the Father, in the Son, for so he wills you; not because he must be ove • come by his Sons persuasion, but because he would have his love to run in th • t ch • nnel, through Christ to us: And indeed our S • viour was much in holding out the love of the Father, and labored to persuade the woe • ld of it. Withall, I wish you to consider whom ye neglect and despise, who hear this Gospel daily, and the word of life holden out unto you; and yet suffer not your hearts to be moved, or stirred after him. Alas, my beloved, to forsake so great a mercy, as the eternal Word of Life, as the infinite Wisdom of the Father, and to let the offer of this, every day run by us, and never to find leisure and vacancy from the multitude of businesses, and throng of the thoughts, and lusts of the world, never to start so far backward, as to look beyond this world, to God, and his Son Jesus Christ, never to mind seriously, either him that was before all things visible, or our own souls, th • t must survive, and out-live all this visible frame. This, I say, is the great misery and condemnation of the world, that this eternal light hath shined, and you love your own darkness better: But be persuaded, that one day ye will think one offer of this Word of Life, better then life, better, infinitely better then the most absolute life that the attendance and concurrence of all the creatures could yield you. O then that ye would incline your ears and heart • to this that is declared unto you, to receive this Word of Life, that was from the beginning, and ye may be persuaded, ye shall enjoy a blessedness without end.

But there is withal a newness in this subject, which both increases admiration, • nd may the more engage our affection; for the life was manifested (saith he) verse. 2. and he is such a word of life, as though he was invisible, and untouchable from the beginning, yet he wa • lately clothed with flesh, that mad • him both visible, and capable of being handled. Now truly these • re the two Poles, about which the mystery, glory, and wonder of Christianity turns: the antiquity of his real existence, as God; and the latenesse or novelty of his appearance in the flesh, a • man; Nothing • o old, • or he hath the infinite fore-start of the oldest and most ancient Creatu • e • . Take those Angels, the Sons of God, who sung together in the fi • st morning of the Creation, yet their generation can soon be told, and their years numbered; it is easy to calculat all antiquity, and we should not reach six thousand years, when it is taken at the largest measure; and what are six thousand years in his sight, but as six days, when they are past? and if we would run backward, as far before that point of b • ginning, and calculat other six thousand, yet we a • e never a jot nearer the age of the Son of God. Suppose a mountain of sand, as big a • the ea • th, and an Angel to take from it one g • ain every year, your imagine • tion would weary itself, e • e ye reckoned in what space this mountain should be diminished, or removed: It would ce • tainly trouble the Arithmetic of the wisest Mathematician. Now imagine as many years, or ages of years, to have run out before the world took its beginning, a • the years in which the Angel would exhaust this mountain; yet we have not come a white nearer the endur • nce of our Lord and Savior, whose being is lik • a Circle, without beginning, or end. Behold he is great, and we know him not, and the number of his years c • nnot be searched out, Job 36.26. and who can declare his generation? The age of thi • Word is such a labyrinth, with innumerable turning • , and wind • ngs in it, which will always lea • them round that enter in it; and so they are, after the longest progress and sea • ch, but just where th • y we • e, always beginning, and n • ver coming nea • er the beginning of his duration, because it is the beginning of all things that have a beginning, but hath none it sel • . Now he that was thu • blessed from everlasting, who dwelt in ina • cessible light and glory, which no m • n hath seen, nor can • ee, infinitely • emoved from all human capacities and sense • ; he, I say, begins to be mani • ested in the fullness o • time; and to make himself visible, he takes on o • r flesh; and all for this pu • po • e, that he who was the substantial life in himself, and the eternal life, in an essential and necessary way, might become l •• e to poor dead sinners, and communicate to them eternal life; and truly it was no wonder that all ages were in expectation of this, from the beginning of the world, since it was first promised, that the Inhabitants of Heaven were in a longing expect • tion to see, • nd look into this myste • y, for there • is something in it more wonderful then the creation of th • s huge frame of Heaven and Earth: God made himself in • manner visible, by making the visible world: His power, goodness, and wisdom, are everywhere imprint • d in great Characters o • the whole, and all the parts of it: the light, How glorious a garment is it? with which he is, as it were, clothed: the Heavens, How Majestick a Throne? the Earth, How stately a Foot-stool? the Thunder, How glorious and te • rible a voice? In a word, the being, the beauty, the ha • money, and proportion of this huge frame, is but a visibl • appe • rance of the invisible God. But in taking on our flesh, the Word is more wonderfully mani • ested, and made visible; for, in the fi • st, the Creator made creatures to start out of nothing, at his command; but in this, the Creator is made a Creature: He once gave a beginning of being to thing • that were not; being before all beginning himself; he now takes a beginning, and become • flesh, that he was not. And what i • it in which he was manifested? Is it the spiritual nature of Angel • ? But though that far excel ours, yet it i • no manifestation of him to us; for he should still be as unknown as ever. Is it in the glory, pe • fection, and flower of the visible world, as in the Sun, and lights of Heaven? But though that hav • more show of glory, then the flesh of man; yet it makes not much to our comfort; there would not be so much consolation in that manifest • tion. Therefore, O how wisely and wonderfully is it contrived, for the good of lost man? That the Son of God shall be made of a woman, that the Father of spirits shall be manifested in the lowest habit of our flesh: and the lower and baser that be, in which he appears, the higher the mystery is, and the richer the comfort is; suppose the m • nifestation • f glory should not be so great, yet the manifestation of love is so much t • e g • eater; and this is t • e great design; God so loved, &c. John. 3. Nay, • may say, even the glory of the only begotten Son of God, was the more • isibly manifested, that he appeared in so low and unequal a shape; for power, to show itself in weakness, for glo • y, to • ppear in baseness, for divinity, to kyth in humanity, and such glorious rays, to b • eak forth from under such a dark cloud; this was greater Glory, and more M • jesty, then if he had only shown himself in the perfection of the creatures. Now it is easy to distinguish the veil, from that it covers; to separate infirmity from divinity: but then it had been more difficult, if his outw • rd • ppearance had been so glorious, to give unto God what was God's, and to give the creatures what was the creatures: The more near his outward shape had been to his divine nature, the less able had we been to see the glory of his Divinity through it.

Now, my beloved, when both these are l • id together, the • ncientnesse of our Savior, and with • l the newness of his appearance in the flesh, by which he hath come so near us, and, as it were, brought his own Majesty within our sphere, to be apprehended by us; • nd for no other end, but to make life and immort • lity to shine forth, • s beams from him, to the quickening of dead souls. O how should this conjunction endear him to us: that the everlasting Father should become a Child for us; that is one wonder. The next wonder i • , that we who are enemies, should be made the children of God by him: when the da • k and obscure prophesying of this, when the twilight of Jewish type • and shadows did creat so much joy in the he • t • of • elievers, in so much that they longed fo • , and • ejoyced to see afar off th • t day; when such a da • k • epresentation of this Word of L • fe, wa • the very life of the godly in the woe • ld, • or • our thousand years; O how much i • the cau • e of joy increased, by the rising of the Sun of Rig • teousn • sse himself, and appearing in the very da • kest nig • t of Supe • stition and Idolatry that was ever over the woe • ld? When the true Life hath • risen himself, and b • ought to open light that life that wa • obscu • ely couched up in P • ophecies and Ce • emonies, a • hid under so many Clouds. O then, let us open our h •• rts to him, and entertain th • se new and fresh tidings, with new delights: Though these be now mo • e then 16 • 0. years old, yet they • re still recent to a believing heart; th • re is • n everlasting spring in them, th • t • ends out every day fresh c • nsolation on to souls, a • refreshing, as the fi • st day▪ thi • spring was opened. This is the new Wine that never grows old, nay, it is • ather every gene • ation renewed, with the accession of some new manifestation of the love of God. Ch • ists Incarnation was the fi • st manifestation of the Sun, the very morning of light and life, the day-spring, vi •••• ng the world, tha • was bu • ied in an hell • i • h darkness of Heathen Idolatry: and even the Church of God, in the grave of Superstition, and corruption of Doctrine and man • s: then did that Sun of Righteousness fi • st set up his head above the Ho •• zon; but it is but one day still, he hath been but coming by degrees to the Meridian, and shining more and more to the perfec • day; That Sun hath not set since, but made • course, and gone a round about the World, in the Preaching of the Gospel, and brought life, & light about, by succession, from one nation • o another; and on • generation to another; and there • ore we ought to entertain it this day with acclamations, and jubilation of heart, as the people that lie under th • North, do welcome the Sun when it •• mes once a year to them. After that the kindness • and love of God our Savior toward man appeared, Tit. 3.4. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , his kindly and affectionate love to mankind, that is it that shines so brightly; the beams of grace and love to men, are the rays that are scattered from this Sun of Righteousness. O the hardness of men's hearts, the impenetr • ble obstinacy of man, that this cannot melt or pierce. How damnable and miserable a case are they into, who can neither be persuaded with the eternity of this subject, to adore it, nor moved with the late appearance of the love of God to the world, in sending of his Son? whom neither Christ's Majesty, nor his Humility, can draw. Certainly this make • sinners under the Gospel, in a more deplorable condition then So • om ; because if he ha • not come, they had not had such sin, but now it i • without excuse, &c.

SERMON III·

THings that are excellent in themselves, will be lo • ed for themselves; but they become the more suitable object of affection, if they have with • l some suitableness and conveniency to us: Yet neither the excellency, nor conveniency of the object, is sufficient to engage the heart, if the • e be not something in the mind too, suitable to the obj • ct: that is, the apprehension of that reality and good that is in it; for • s there is a certainty in the object, that makes it a real, not imaginary thing; so there must be a certainty in the subject, whereby the thing is • pprehended to be true, good, and excellent; • nd then the object of af • ection is completed. Some things there are in nature, excellent in themselve • , but they rather beget admiration, then • ffection, because they are not suitable to our necessities: Other things of a more ordinary purchase, have some conveniency to supply our wants; and though they be less worth in their own nature then precious stones, and such like; yet they are more desired. But there is this lamentable disproportion betwixt our • pprehensions, and the things themselves, which is the ground of much disappointment; and so of vexation. The things of this world having nothing of that solid excellency, or true worth, and conveniency to our souls, nothing suit • ble to our immortal spirits; but being empty vain shadows, and windy husks, instead of substantial true • food; yet there are high apprehensions, and big conceits of them, which is a kind of monst • uous production, or empty swelling of the mind; which because it hath no bottom of solidity, it will fall and evanish. Again, take a view of spiritual things, holden out in the Gospel, and there is as incong • uous and unproportioned carriag • of our hearts towards them, they have a certainty, and reality, and subsistence in themselves, they alone are excellent, and suit • ble to our spirits; notwithstanding, the mind of man is hug • lie misshapen towards them by unbelief, and hath nothing in his apprehension suitable to the thing • themselves: they are represented as far belo • their true worth, as things temporal above their just value; and therefore men are not enamored with them, souls • re not ravished after that beauty that is in them.

Now the end of these word • read, is to reform this irregular, disorderly posture of your minds, to hold out to you things truly excellent, and exceedingly convenient, things good and profit •• le, in the most superlative degree, in the highest rank that your imagination can suppose; and then to pe • swade you, that you are not deceived with vain words, or fair promises, but that there is a certain truth, and an infallible reality in them, that you being assertained in your souls, • ccording to the ce • tainty of the things presented, you may then • reely, without any reserve, give your hearts to love, embrace, and follow them. O that there might be such a meeting between your hearts and this eternal life, that as he hath come near to us, to be suitable to us, your apprehension • might draw near to be suitable to him: and by this means, your souls might meet immediately with that Word of Life, and have that constant fellowship with him, that is spoken of, verse. 3. so your joy should be full. For joy is but the full peace of the desires; fill up all the wants of the heart, and then it is full of joy. And so, when such a satisfying object is pitched on, as doth exactly correspond, and answer the inward • pprehensions of the mind; th •• there is no more room in the heart for any other thing: as if two Superfices were exactly plain and smooth, they could join so closely together, that no air could come between them, and then they could hardly be pulled asunder.

We spoke something of the excellency of tha • Word of Life in himsel • , and i • is • ut little that is said, when all is said, in re • pect of that which He truly is; but I fear we speak, and ye hear more of the • e things, then either o • us lively and affectionately apprehends, or l • ys up in our hearts. I fear, that as we say less then is, so more then we think; I mean, se • iously think upon. But we shall proceed, such an eve • lasting glorious Person, though he have life in himself, though he be never so excellent, as the Son of God, yet what is that to us? It seems he is never a whit nearer us, or not m • re suitable to restore us, then th • very Majesty that we • ffended. How far is he without our sight, and without our comprehension? He is high as Heaven, Who shall ascend to b • ing down that • ternal life to us? But stay and co • side • , tha • he is not only so glorious in himself, but so gracious to us; he is not only invisible, as God, but manifested to our senses, as Man: not only hath life in himself, but is an eve • lasting spring of life to us; not only hath his Throne in Heaven with his Father, but hath c • m • down to the world, to bring that eternal li • e near u • , even in our mouth and hearts; to preach it, to purchase it, to seal it, and to bestow it, and the life was manifested: The life, and that eternal life, word • of force, that have some Emphasis in them: the life is much, that eternal life is more; and yet these had been little to us, if not manifested to u • : Life might have remained hid in God, eternal life might have recided in Christ the Fountain for all eternity, and nothing diminished of their happiness, if these had never sprung out and vented themselves; if that life that was with the Father from the beginning, had never come down from the Father, we woe • ld have missed it, not they; we alone had been miserable by it: Well then, there is a manifestation of life in Christ • low descent to death; the • e is a manifestation of the riche • of love and grace in the poverty and emptiness of our Savior, and thus he is suited to us and our necessities every way fitly correspondent: and now it is not only, as the F • there hath life in himself, so the Son h • th life in himself, but there is a derivation of that life to man; that donation of life to the Son, John. 5.26. was not so much for any need he had of it, as by him to bestow it on us, that it might b • , as the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father: So he that eats me, even he shall live by me, Joh. 6.57. As Parents that retain • ffection to their Children, albeit they have committed great injuries, for which they are driven out of their house • , yet they will, as it were underhand bestow upon them, and exercise that same love in • covered way, by a third person, by giving to them, to impart to their Children. Notwithstanding this halts too much, for our Father dissembles not his love, but proclaim • it in sending his Son: Nor doth Christ hide it, but declares, that he is instructed with sufficient fu • niture for eternal life, that himself is the bread of life sent from Heaven, that whosoever receiveth it with delight, and ponders, and meditats on it in the heart, and so digests it in their • ouls, they shall find a quickening, quieting, comforting, and strengthening ve • tue in him. Nay, the • e is a strait connection between his life and ours, because I live, ye shall live also ; as i • he could no more want us, then his Father can want him, John. 14.19. And as if he could no more be happy without u • , then his Father without him. And whence is it come to pass, but from his manifestation for this ve • y end and purpose? How should such strange Logic hold? Whence such a because? If this had not been • ll his errand into the world, for which his Father dispensed to want him, as it were, and he did likewise condescend to leave his Fathe • for a season. And now this being the business he came about, it is strange h • appeared in so unsuitable and unlikely a form, in weakness, poverty, misery, ignominy, and all the infirmities of our flesh; which seemed rather contrary to his design, and to indispose him for giving life to others, whose life was a continued death in th • eyes of me • ; and the last act of the scene seems to blow up the whole design of quickening dead sinners; when he who was designed Captain of Salvation, is killed himself: For if he save not himself, how should he save others? And yet be • old the infinite wisdom, power, and grace • f God, working unde • -g • ound, giving life to the dead, by the dea •• o • life it • elf: saving those that are lost, by one that lost himself: overcoming the world by weakness: conq • ering Satan by suffering: t • iump • ing over death by dying: L • ke that • enowned King of the Lacedemonians, who (when he heard of an Oracle, that if the Gene • all were sa • ed alive, the Army could not be victoriou • ) changed his h • bit, and went amongst the Camp • f his enemies, and sought valiantly till he was killed; whom when the Armies of the enemies understood to be the King and General, they presently lost their hearts, and retired and fled: So our Savior, and Captain of our Salvation, hath offered himself once for all, and by being killed, hath purc • ased life to all that believe in hi • death, and that eternal life : Therefo • e, he is not only the word of life in himself, and th • t eternal life in an essential manner, but he alone hath the words of eternal life, and is the alone fountain of life to us.

Now for the certainty of this manifestation of the word of life in our flesh, both that he wa • man, and that he was more then a man, even God: this, I say, we have the greatest evidence of, that the world can afford, next to our own seeing a • d handling. To begin with the testimony set down here, of thes • who were e • r and eye-w • tnesses of all; which if they be men of credit, cannot but make a great impression of faith upon others. Consider who the Apostles were, men of great simp • icity, whose education was so me • n, and expectations in the woe • ld so low, that they could not be supposed to conspire together to a falsehood; and especially when there was no woe • ldly inducement leading them thereto, but rather all things pe •• wading to the contra • y: their very adve • sa • ies could never object anything against them, but want of lea • ning, and simplicity, which are furthest from the su • pition of deceitfulness. Now how were it possible, think you, that so m • ny thousands everywhere, should h • ve received this new Doctrine, so unsuitable to human • eason, from their mouths, if they had not pe • swaded them that themselves were eye-witnesses of all these miracles that he did, to confi • m his Doct • ine, and this testimony had not been above all imaginable exception? Yea, so evident was it in matter of fact, that both enemies themselves confessed, the Jews and Gentiles that persecuted that way, were constrained through the evidence of the truth, to acknowledge, that such mighty works shown forth themselves in him, though they out of malice imputed it to ridiculous and blasphemous causes: And besides, the Apostle used to provoke to the very testimony of 500. who had seen Jesus • rise from death, which is not the custom of liars, neither is it possible for so many, as it were, of purpose, to conspire to such an untruth, as had so many miseries and calamities following on the profession of it, 1 Cor. 15.6.

But what • ay they? That which we have heard of, not only from the Prophets, who have witnessed of him •• om the beginning, and do • ll con • pi • e together to give a testimony that he i • the Savior of the woe • ld: but from John, who was his Messenger, immediately sent before his f • ce, and whom all men, even Christ's enemies, acknowledged to be • Prophet; and therefore, his visi • le pointing out the Lamb of God, his decla • ing how near he was, and preferring of him • nfinitly before himself, who had so much authority himself, (and so is likely to have spoken the truth; being misled with no ambition, or affectation of honor,) his instituting a new ordinance, plainly pointing out the Messiah at the door • , and publishing constantly that voice, The kingdom of Heaven is at hand ; these we, and all the people have heard, and he • rd not with indignation, but with reverence and respect. But above all, we heard himself the true Prophet, and sweet Preacher o • Israel, since the first day he began to open his mouth in the Ministry of the Gospel, we have with attentive ears, and earnest hearts, received all from his mouth, and laid up these golden sayings in our heart • : He did not constrain them to abide with him, but there w • s a • ecret power that went from him, that chained them to him inevitably, Lord, whither shall we go from thee, for thou hast the words of eternal life ? O! that was an attractive virtue, a powerful conserving virtue, that went out of his mouth. We heard him, say they, and we never heard any speak like him, not so much for the pomp and Majesty of his style, for he came low, sitting on an Ass, and was as condescending in his manner of • peech, as in his other behavior: but because he taught with authority : there was a divine virtue in his Preaching, some spa • kles of a divine spirit and power in his discou • ses, broke out from under the plainness and simplicity of it; and made our souls truly to apprehend of him what was sacrilegiously attributed in flattery to a man, the voice of God and not of man. We heard him so many years speak familiarly to us, and with us, by which we were certainly persuaded he was a true man, and then we heard him in his speeches open the hid mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven, revealing the will of the Father, which no man could know, but he that was with the Father, and came down from him: we heard him unfolding all these shadows and coverings of the Old Testament, expounding Moses and the Prophets, taking off the veil, and uncovering the Ark and Oracles: And how did our hearts burn within u • , while he talked with us, and opened to u • the S • riptures? We heard him daily in the Synagogues expound the Scriptures, whereof himself was the living Commentary, when he read them, we saw the true Exposition before our eyes.

Now, my beloved, you may be admitted to hear him too, for the sum of the living words that c • me •• om the Word of Life are written; his Se • mons are ab • idged in the Evangelists, that y • u m • y read them, and when you read them, think within your se • f, that you hear his holy mouth speak them; S • t yourselves as amongst hi • Disciple • , th • t s • •• u may believe, and believi • g m • y h • ve etern • l life ; for, for this end a • e they written, John. 20.30, 31.

SERMON IV·

THere is a gradation of certainty here, hearing himself speak, is more then he • ing by report; but an eye-witness is better then ten ear-witnesses, and handling adds a thi • d assurance; for the sense of touching gives the last and greatest evidence of truth. It is true, that the sense is properly correspondent to sensible things, and of itself, can only give testimony to his Humanity; yet I conceive these are here alleged for both, even also to witness his glorious • nd Divine Nature▪ which though it did not 〈◊〉 under sight and handling, yet it discovered itself to be l • tent, under that visible covering of flesh, by sensible effect • , no less, then the spirit of m • n, which is invisible, manifests its p • e • ence in the body, by such operations sensible, as can proceed from no other principle: And the • e • o • e, this faithful witness adds, which we have looked upon ; which relates not only to the outward attention of the eyes, but points at the inward intention, and affection of the heart: our senses did b • ing in such strange and marvellou • object • to our minds, that we stood gazing, and beheld it over and over again, looked upon it with • eason, concluding what it might be; we gave entertainment to our minds, to consider it wisely and deliberately, and fastened our eyes, that we might detain our hearts, in the consideration of such a glorious person. From this then ye have two things clear; one is, that our Lord Jesus Christ was a true man, and that his Disciples had all possible evidence of it, which the History more abundantly shows; he conversed with them familiarly, he eat and drank with them, yea, his conversation in the world, was very much condescending in outward behavior, to the customs of the woe • ld, he eat with Pharisees when they invited him; he refused not; but he was more bold with Publicans and sinners, to conve • s with them; as being their greatest friend: He was uncivil to none; would deter none through a rigid austere conversation; and indeed, to testify the truth o • his Human Nature, he came so low to partake of all human infirmities without sin, and to be subject to extraordinary afflictions and crosses, as to t • e eyes of the world it did quite extinguish his Divine Glo • y, and bury i • in misbelief. This wh •• h we speak of, as a testimony and evidence th • t he w • s m • n, was the very grand stumbling-block and • ffence of the Jews and Gentiles; which they made use of as an evidence and certain testimony that he was not God: the evidence of the one seems to give in evidence to the other. But let us con • ider this, for it is a sweet and pleas • nt S • bject, if our hearts were suitably framed to delight in it, that there was as much evidence to the conviction of all men's senses, of his Divine M • jesty, as of his Human Infirmity: and t •• t there a • e two concu •• ing evidences, which enlig • tens one another; which we shall show, p • rtly •• om his own woe • ks and miracles, and partly from the more then miraculous success and progress of the Gospel a • ter him.

For the first, John testifies, that not only they saw the baseness of his outward shape, but the glory of the only begotten Son of God, full of grace and truth, Joh. 1.14. John the Baptist sent some of hi • Di • ciple • , bec • use of their own unbelie • , to enq • ire Jesu • , Art thou he, or look we for another? And what answer gave he them? What reason to convince them? Go (saith he) and tell what ye h • ve seen and heard, that the blind s • e, the l • m • w • lk, and the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, th • dead are raised, and the poor re • eive the G • spel : And blessed is he whoever sh • ll not for my outwa • d unseemlinesse, and baseness, offend; But go by that, in to the glory that shines out in such works. It is said in Luke 7.21. that the same hour he • ured many: Befo • e he spoke in answer, he answered them by his deeds; he gave a visible demonstration of that they doubted of: For they could not but see a power above created power in these work • , which surpass Nature and Art: so many wonderful works done, so often repeated, be • o • e so many thousands, even many of his watchful and observant enemies; and all done so easily by a word, i • finite cures for number and quality wrought, which passed the skill of all Physicians; Devils dispossessed, life restored, water converted into excellent wine, without the maturation of the Sun, or help of the Vine tree; a little bread so strangely enlarged to the satisfaction of many thousands, and more remaining then was laid down; the winds and seas obeying his very word, and composing themselves to silence at his rebuke; and infinite moe of this kind; Are they not in the common apprehension of men, of a degree superior to that of nature? Who could restore life, but he that gave it? Whom would the Devils obey, but him at whom they tremble? Who could transubstantiat water into wine, but he that created both these substances, and every year by a long circuit of the operations of nature, turns it into wine? Who could feed seven thousand with that which a few persons would exhaust, but he that can creat it of nothing, • nd b • whose woe • d all thi • 〈◊〉 woe • ld sta • ted out of nothing? Nay, let us suppose these thing • to be done only by divine assistance, by some peculiar divine infl • ence, then certainly, if we consider the very end of this miraculous assistance of a creature, th • t it was to conf •• m the Doct • ine delive • ed by him, and make such a deep impression of the t • uth of it in the he •• t • of all, that it cannot be • ooted out; this being the very genuine end of the wisdom of God in such works, it must need • follow, that all that which Christ revealed, both of himself and the Father, of his own being with him from the beginning, of his • eing one with him, and being hi • eternal Son; all this must need • be in • allibly t • ue; for it is not supposible to ag • ee with the wisdom and goodness of God, to manifest so much of his infi • it power and glory, in so extraordinary a manner, to bear testimony to an impostor or deceiver. The • efore though no mo • e could be at first exto • ted f • om an enemy of Ch • ist▪ D • ct • ine, but that such mighty works did show forth themselve • , which could not be done, but by the Divine assistance an • extraordinary help of God: yet, even • rom that con • e •• ion it may be strongly concluded, that seeing there was no other end imagine •• le of su • h ext • aordin •• y assis • ance, but the con • irmation of hi • new Doctrine, and that of hi • Divine Natu • e, being one of the chief points of it, it must need • in • o • ce, that he was not only helped by God, as M • ses, but that he was God, and did these things by his own power. By this then it appears that though after so many Prophesies of him, and exp • ctation • from the beginning, we see but a man in outward appearance despisable, and without comliness and form ; yet if we could open the eyes of our • ouls, and six them upon him, we behold as through some small crainies, Majesty shining in his misery, power discovering itself in his weakness, even that power that made the world, and man too: He was born indeed, yet of a Virgin, he was weak and infirm himself, yet he healed all others infirmities, even by his word; he was often an hungered, yet he could feed five thousand at one time, and seven thousand at another, upon that which would not have served his Disciples, or but served them; He was wearied with travels, yet he gave rest to wearied souls: At length himself died, and that an ignominious death, notwithstanding he raised the dead by his word, and at length he raiseth himself by his own power. All this is included in this, we have seen and handled ; we saw him gloriously transfigured on the Mount, where his countenance did shine as the Sun, and his raiment was white as light, and two, the greatest persons in the Old Testament came out of Heaven, as it were, to yield up the administration of shadows to his substance: and we saw the Heaven opening in the sight of many thousands, and heard a testimony given him from Heaven, This is my beloved Son, hear him: And then when he wa • b •• ied, and our hope with him, we saw him • isen again, and our hope did • ise with him, and then • ome of • s handled his si • e • , to get • ull pe • suasion; and all of us eat and drank and c • nve • sed with him forty days: and to make a pe • iod, at length we saw him ascending up to Heaven, and a Cloud receiving him a • a Ch •• jot, to take him out of our sight. Thu • , th • W • rd was made fl • sh, and dwelt among us, and we • a • e seen his glo • y, as • f the only beg • tten Son of God.

But besides that which the life and death of Jesus Christ carries engraven in it of Divinity, there is one miracle, which may be said to transcend all that ever was done, and it is one continued wonder since his resu • rection, even the ve • tue and power of that crucified Savior, to conquer the world, by such unsuitable, yea, contra • y mean • and instruments. Heathenish Religion was spread indeed universally th • ough the woe • ld, but that was not one Religion, but one name; for as many Nations, as many fancied gods, and in one Nation many. And true it is, that M • humet • nism hath spread itself far; but by what mean • ? only by the power of the sword, and the terror of an Empire. But here is a Doctrine contrary to all the received custom • , and imbred opinions of men, without any such means p • evailing throughout the world. Cyrus, when he was about to conquer neighbouring Nations, gave out a Proclamation, If any will follow me▪ if he be a foot-man, I will make him an horse-man, if he have a Vill • ge, I will give him a City, if a City, I will bestow on him a Country, &c. Now mark how contrary the proceeding of our Lord is: Go and preach (saith he) Repent ye, for the Kingdom of God is at hand. Here is his Proclamation, Repent ye. And, if any man will be my Disciple, let him take up his • ross and follow me, and deny himself W • at disp • oportioned mean • ? and yet how infinitely greater success? Cyrus could not gain the Lacedemonians to his side for all that, but Christ, though poor, despised and contemptible, while alive, and at length thought to be quite vanquished by the most shameful death, when he is lift up upon the Cross, to the view and reproach of the world, he draws all men after him: He, by a few fishermen, not Commanders, nor Orators, persuades the world, and within a few years that crucified Lord is adored further and wider then any Empire did ever stretch itself. All the power, majesty, and success of Alexander could nev • r persuade the Nations, no, not his own followers to adore him as God: But h • re one nailed to the Cross, Crowned with Thorns, rejected of all men, and within a little space adored, woe • shiped, suffered for throughout the Nations, yea, Kings and Emperors casting down thei • Crown • at his feet, many thousands counting it their honor to die upon that account. And do not the Trophies of these Apostolic victories remain to this d • y, in every co • ner of the woe • ld, after so many hun •• ed yea •• , in so many different, a • d so far dist • nt N • tio •• ? th • t s • me N • me p • e • ched, • nd all k • ee • bo • in • to it. These things conside • ed, how much done, and by mean • woe •• e then nothi • g, it t • a •• cends all the mi •• cles th • t ever the world wond • ed at. N • w, my beloved, these things I m • nti • n • or this end, that ye may be pe • sw • ded upon sure ground • , that he who is pre • c • ed unto you, is God able to save you, and according to the evi • ence of these grounds, ye may believe in him, and give that co • dial assent to these eve • lasting t • uths, an • that welcome inte • tainment to • im in your heart that become • . I think certainly there i • ve • y little even o • this solid assent and perswasi • n of the Go • pel in the hearts of the m •• t p •• t; because they t • k • things or name • • ath • r implicitly, and never se • iously consider what th •• believe, and 〈…〉 grounds. But 〈…〉 a more pleasant or profitable meditation th • n this, if we would enter in a serious consid •• ation of the truth and certainty of these thi • gs we have received. O how would such evid • nce open the he • rt to • n entire and full closu • e with them, and embracement of them.

SERMON V·

THere are many thing • that you may desire to hear, and it may be are usually spoken of in public, which the generality of men's he • ts are more carried after; but t • uly, I should w • ong myself and you both, if I should take upon me to discourse in these things, which it may be some desire, for direction or information conce • ning the times: for I can neither speak of them with • o much ce • tainty of persuasion as were needful, nor can I think it an advantage, to shut out and exclude this which the Apostle takes to declare, as the chief subject of his writing, which must needs be, if such things have place: The • e • o • e I cho •• e rather with the Apostle to declare this unto you, which I can always do with alike ce • tainty, and certainly might always • e done to an infinite greater advantage. Ther • a • e these two peculiar excellencies in the Gospel, o • Word of life, that it is never unprofitable, nor unseasonable; but doth contain in it at all times the greatest • dvantage to the souls of men, of infinite more concernment and urgency, then any other thing can be supposed to be. And then we have no doubtful disputations about it, it va • ie • not by times and circumstance • , it may be declared with the • a • e full assu • ance at all time • , which certainly cannot be attained in other things▪ I w •• ld gladly know what Paul meant, when he said, he •• t • rmin • d to know n • thing but Jesus Chri • t, and him • rucified, 1 Cor. 2 2. and that he •• unted all dress and dung to the su • er-excelle • t knowledge of Jesus Christ, Phil▪ 3 8. Sure it must amount • o so m • ch at lea • t, that this should be the ordina • y subject • f the Ministers of the Gospel, since they are the Ambas • adours of Jesus Christ, not th • O • ators of the State. Should not all other things • e thought impertinent and •• ivial in respect of thi • , the salvation • f sin •• s? And what hath a connection with that, but I • sus Christ, and the W • rd • f life ?

But though this be the most pleasant and profitable subject, yet I • ear, that • ew • f them who pretend a calling to thi • Embassage, a • e thus qualified and disposed to speak and declare it, as the Apostle imports, that which we have heard and seen, &c. It is true, there was something extraordinary in this, because they were to be the first publishers of this Doctrine, • nd to wrestle against the rebellion of men's heart • , and the idolatry and superstition of the world: yea, to undertake such a work, as to subdue all Nations by preaching of a crucified man to them, which seemed to reason, the most desperate and impossible employment ever given or taken: therefore it behooved them to be t • e eye and ear-witnesses of his Doct • ine, Life, Miracles, and all; that being themselves persuaded beyond all the degrees of ce • tainty that reason c • n afford, they might be the more confident and able to convince and persuade others. But yet there is something that hold • by good proportion, that h • that de • lare • this ete • nal life to others, should be well acquainted with it himself; He that preaches Jesus Christ, should fi • st be conve • sant with him, and become his Disciple and follower, befo • e they can with any f • uit become Teache • s of others. Therefore the Apostles, Act. 1. Chooseth out one that had been with them from the beginning, gone in and out with them, seen and heard all. O! How incong • uous is it for many of us to take upon us to declare this unto others, which I fear, few can say they have heard and seen in a spiritual manner, and handled by expe • ience? No question, it prevails usually most with the heart, that comes from the heart: Affection is the fire that is most suitabl • to set • ffection on flame. It is a great addition to a man's power and virtue of persuading others, to have a full persuasion settled in his own heart conce • ning these things. Now it is much to be lamented that there is so little of this, and so few ca •• ies the evidence on their hearts and ways, that th • y have been with Jesus, co • versant in his company. I cannot say, but the Ordinances, that carry their woe • th and dignity from God, and not •• om men, should be notw •••••• nding p • ecious to your he • ts; an • tha • W • rd of life however, and by whomsoever sent, to you it be spoken, it should be suitably • eceived with gladness of heart. B • t I confess • , the • e i • much of the success disappointed, by the unsuitable car • iage and disposition of i • struments, which ought to be mou • ned under, a • the g • eatest judgment of this Nation.

Two p • inciples hath acted this Divine Apostle; the exceeding love of his Master, for he loved much, as he was much beloved, and this ca •• ies him on all occasions to give so he • ty a testimony to him, as you see, I • h. 21.2 • . he characte •• zeth himself, or ci • c • ms • ribe • hi • own name thu • ; This is the Dis • i • le that testifieth these things, and wrote these things, and we know his testimony is true • . Where that divine love, which is but the • esult and ove • flowing of the love Ch • ist car • ies to u • , fills the he • t: this makes the sweetest vent, and most f • ag •• nt opening • f the mouth, whether in Di • course, or in Prayer, or Preaching that can be. O how it perfumes all the commendation of Ch • ist: Peter, lovest thou me, feed my sheep. These have a natu • all connection together, the love of Christ in the heart, and the aff • ctionat hearty se • iou • declaration of him to oath •• . An • then, another principle hath moved him, the love of others salvation. These things I de • lare, that ye may h • ve fellowship with us ; finding in his own experience how happy he was, what a Pea • l he had found, how ra • e a Jewel, eternal life, he cannot hide it, but proclaims it: His next wish is, Now since I am thus blessed, O that all the woe • ld knew, and would come and share with me; I see that unexhausted fountain of life, that unemptyable sea of goodness, that infinite fullness of grace in Jesus Ch • ist, that I▪ and you, and all that will, may c • me and be satisfied, and nothing diminished. There is that immense fullness in spiritual things, that sup •• abundance, and infinite excess over our necessities, that they may be enjoyed by many, by all, without envy or discontent, without prejudice to one another's fullness; which the ska •• nesse and meann • sse of created things cannot admit. I believe, if Ministers or Christian • did taste of this, and had access into it to see it, and bl • sse themselves in it, if they might enter into this t • easury, or converse into this company, they would henceforth carry themselves as those who pity the world, and compa • sionat mankind. A man that we • e acquainted with this that is in Christ, would not find his heart easily stirred up to envy, or provoked upon others prosperity or exaltation, but rather he would be constrained to commiserat all others, that they will not know nor consi • er wherein their own true •• anquility and absolute sati • faction consists. He that is lifted up to this blessed society, to conve • se with God, were it not for the compassion and mercy he owes to miserable mankind, he might laugh at the • ollie • and vanity • of t • e world, as we do a • children. But as the 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , the affectionate kind love our Savior carried to human nature, made him often g • o • n and sigh for his adversaries, and weep over Jerusalem, • lbeit his own joy was full without 〈◊〉 : So in some measure a Christian learns of Christ to be a lover and pitier of mankind, and then to be most moved with compassion towa • ds others, when we have fullest joy and satisfaction ourselves. O that we might be persuaded to seek after these things which may be gotten and kept without clamour and contention, about which there needs be no s •• ife nor envy. O, seek that happiness in fellowship with God, which h • ving attained, you • ack nothing but that other • may be a • happy.

These things I de • lare, th • t • e m • y have fellowship with us. O • ! that Minister • of the Gospel might • ay so, an • might f • om their own expe • ience invite others to p ••• ache with them, as Paul req • ests oath • s to be • ollowe •• of him, a • he was of Ch • ist; so these w • o suc •• ed Paul in thi • embassage of recon • il • tion, and a • e sent to call to the feast, might upon good g • ound inte • pose their own experience thu • , O come and eat wi • h us, O come and sh •• e with u • , for it will suffice us all without division. W • en some get into the savor of great and eminent persons, and have the honor to be their companion • , they will be very loath to invite pro ••• c • ously others to that dignity, this society would beget competition and emulation. But, O! of how different a nature is this fellowship? which whosoever i • ex • lted to, he hath no other grief, but that hi • poor brethren • nd fellow-creatures either know not, or will not be so happy: therefore he will always be about the declaring of this to others. But if Ministers cannot use such an expression to invite you to their fellowship, yet I beseech you, beloved in the Lord, let all of us be here invited by the Apostle to partake of that, which will not g • ieve you to have fellows and companion • into, but rather • dd to your contentment.

Moreover, th • s may be represented to you, that ye are invited to the very communion with the Apostles, the lowest and meanest amongst you hath this high dignity in your offer, to be fellow-citizens with the Saints, with the eminent pillars of the Church, the Apostles.

It might be thought by the most part of Christians who are more obscure, little known, and almost despised in the world, that they might not have so near access into the Court of thi • great King: Some would think these who continued with him in his temptations, who waited on his own person, and were made such glor • ous instruments of the renovation of the world, should have some great preference to all others, and be admitted into the fellowship of the • ather and the Son, beyond other • ; even a • many would think, that Christ's Mother and Kinsmen in the flesh, • hold have had prerogatives and privileges beyond all his follow • s. But O the wonde • full mystery of the equal, free, and ir • espective conveyance of this grace of the Gospel in Ch • ist Jesus! Neither bond nor free, neither circumcision nor uncircumcision. The •• is • ne common salvation, Jude v. 3. as well as common faith, Tit. 1.4. and it is common to Apostles, to Pastors, to People, to as many as shall believe in his Name ; so that the poo • est and meanest creature is not excluded from the highest privileges of Apostles. We have that to glory into, in which Paul glo • ied, that is, the Cross of Christ : we have the same access, by the same Spirit, unto the Father, we have the same Advocate to plead for us, the same blood to cry for us, the same hope of the same inheritance; in a word, we are baptized into one body, and for the essentials and chief substantials of privilege and comfort, the Head equally respects all the Member • . Yea, the Apostles, though they had some peculiar gifts and privileges beyond others, yet they were forbidden to rejoice in these, but rather in these which were common to them with other Saints, Rejoice not (saith Christ) that the • pirits are subject unto you, but rather rejoice because your names are written in heaven, Luk. 10.20. The hight • nd depth of this drowns • ll other differences.

Now, my beloved, what can be more said for our comfort? Would you be as happy as John, as blessed as Paul ? Would you think yourselves well, if it were possible, to be in as near relation and communion with Christ as his Mother and Brethren? Truly, that is not only possible, but it is holden out to you, and you are requested to embrace the offer, and come and share with them. He that beareth my words and doth them, the same is my mother, and sister, and brother : You shall be as dear to him as his dearest relation • , if you believe in him, and receive his sayings in your heart. Do not then entertain jealous and suspicious thoughts, because you are not like Apostles, or such holy men as are recorded in Scripture? If you forsake not your own mercy, you may have fellowship with them in that which they account their chiefest happiness; there i • no difference of quality or condition, no distance of other things, can hinder your communion with them; there are several sizes and growths of Christians, both in light and grace, some have extraordinary raptures and ecstasies of joy and sweetness; others attain not to that, but are rather kept in attendance and waiting on God in his ways; but • ll of them have one common salvation, as the highest have some fellowship with the lowest in his infirmities, so the lowes • hath fellowship with the highest in his privileges. Such is the infinite goodness of God, that which is absolutely necessary, and most important either to soul or body, i • made mor • universal, both in nature and grace, as the common light of the Sun to all, and the Sun of Righteousness too, in an impartial way, shining on all them that come to him.

SERMON VI·

IT was both the great wisdom and infinite goodness of God, that he did not only f • ame a creature capable of society with others of his own kind, but that he fashioned him so, as to be capable of so high an elevation, to have communion and fellowship with himself; it is less wonder of Angels, b • cause they a • e pure incorporeal Spirits, drawing towards a nearer likeness to his nature, which similitude is the ground of • ommunion; but that he would have one of the material and visible creatures below, that for the one half is made of the dust of the earth, • dvanced to this inconceivable hight of privilege, to have fellowship with him; this is a greater wonder: and for this end he breathed into man a spirit from Heaven, that might be capable of conformity and communion with him, who is the Father of spirits. Now take this in the plainest apprehension of it, and you cannot but conceive that this is both the honor and happiness of man: It is honor and dignity, I say, because the nature of that consists in the applause and estimation of those that are worthy, testified one way or another, and the highest degrees of it rise according to the degree or dignity of the persons that esteem us, or give us their fellowship and favor. Now truly, according to this rule, the honor is incomparable, • nd the credit riseth infinitely above all the airy • nd fancied dignities of men; for the Foot-stool to be elevated up to the Throne, for the poor contemptible creature to be lifted up to the society and friendship of the most high and glorious God, the only fountain of all the Hierarchies of Heaven, or degrees upon Earth▪ so much as the distance is between God and us, so much proportionably must the dignity rise, to be advanced out of this low estate to fellowship with God; the distance between creatures is not observable in regard of this, and yet poor worms swell, if either they be lifted up a little above others, or advanced to familiarity with these that are above them. But what is it to pride ourselves in these thing • ? when we • re altogether higher and lower at one view, as grasshoppers in his sight; therefore man being in honor, and understanding not, wherein his true honor and dignity consists, he associates himself to beasts; only the soul, that is aspiring to thi • communion with God, is extracted out of the dregs of beastly mankind, and is elevated above mankind, and associated to blessed Apostles, and holy Angels, and Spirits made perfect: and that were but little, though it be a honor above Regal or Imperial dignities, but it is infinitely hightned by this, that their association is with God, the blessed and holy Trinity.

Now herein consists man's happiness too, for the soul being enlarged in its capacity and appetite, far beyond all visible things, it is never fully satiated or put to rest and quiet, till it be possessed with the chiefest and most unive • sal good, that is, God ; and then all the motions of desires cease, then the soul rests from its labors, then there is a peace and eternal rest proclaimed in the desires of the soul, Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with me, Psal. 116.7. O! what a poor short requiem do men sing to their own hearts from other enjoyments? Oftentimes men's hearts, whether dreaming or waking, speak in this manner, Soul take thy rest ▪ but how ill grounded is that peace, and how false a rest, daily experience in part witnesseth, and the last day will fully declare? But, O! how much better and wiser were it for you, to seek the favor and light of his countenance upon you, and to be united to him who is the fountain of life, so ye might truly, without hazard of such a sad reprehension as that fool got, or grievous disappointment, say, Soul take thy rest in God.

Man was advanced to this dignity and happiness, but he kept not his station, for that great Dragon falling down from that pinnacle of honor he had in Heaven, drew down with him the third part of the stars of Heaven, and cast them to the earth : and thus, man who was in honor, is now associated with, and made like to beasts, or devils, he is a stranger to God from the womb, all the imagination • of his heart tend to distance from God, he is exiled and banished from God's presence, the type whereof was his being driven out of the Garden, and yet he is not long out, nor far away, when the infinite love of God moves an Embassage to send after him, and to recall him; many messengers are sent beforehand to prepare the way, and to dispose men's hearts to peace; many prophesies were, and fore-intimations of that great Embassage of love, which at length appeared; for God sent his Son, his own Son, to take away the difference, and make up the distance. And this is the thing that is declared unto us by these eye and ear-witnesses, to this end that we may know how to return to that blessed society which we had forsaken, to our own eternal prejudice. Is man banished out of the Paradise of God into the accursed earth? Then the Son is sent out from his own Palace and th • Paradise above, to come into this world, and to save the world. Is there such a gulf between us and Heaven? Christ hath put his own body between, to fill it up. Do the Cherubims watch with flaming fire to keep us from life? Then the Son hath shed his own blood in abundance, to quench that fi • e, and so to pacify and compose all in Heaven and Earth. Is there such odds • nd enmity between the families of Heaven and Earth? He sent his Son the chief heir, and married him with our nature, and in that eternal marriage of our nature with him, he hath buried in everlasting oblivion all the difference, and opened a way for a nearer and dearer friendship with God then was before. And whence was it, I pray you, that God dwelt among men? First in a Tabernacle, then in a fixed Temple, even among the rebellious sons of men; and that so many were admitted and advanced again to communion with God; Abraham had the hono • r to be the friend of God, (O incomparable title! comprehending more then King or Emperor) Was it not all from this, the anticipating virtue of that uniting and peace-making sacrifice? It was for his sake who was to come, and in his flesh to lay a sure foundation for eternal peace and friendship between God and man.

Now you see the ground of our restitution to that primitive fellowship with God, my earnest desire is that ye would lay hold on this opportunity. Is such an high thing in your of • er? yea, are you earnestly invited to it by the Father and the Son ? then sure it might at the first hearing beget some inward desire, and kindl • up some holy ambition after such a happiness. Before we know further what is in it, (for the very fi • st sound of it imports some special and incomparable privilege) might not our hearts be inflamed, and ought we not to inquire at our own hearts, and speak thus unto them, Have I lived so long a stranger to God the fountain of my life? Am I so far bewitched with the d • ceitful vanities of the world, as not to think it incomparably better, to rise up above all created things, to communicate with the Father and the Son ? And shall I go hence without God and without Ch • ist, when fellowship with them is daily, freely, and plentifully holden forth? I beseech you consider where it must begin, and what must be laid down for the foundation of this communion, even your union with Jesus Chri •• the Mediator between God and man; and you cannot be one with him, but by forsaking yourselves, and believing in him; and thence flow • that constant abode and dwelling in him, which is the mutual entertainment of Christ and • soul, after their meeting together Can two walk together except they be agreed ? We are by nature enemies to God; Now ce • tainly reconciliation and agreement must inter • een by the blood of the Cross, before any friendly and familiar society be kept. Let this then be your first study, and it is first declared in the Gospel, Jesus Christ is holden out as partaking with you in all your infirmities, he is represented as having fellowship with us in our sins and curses, in our afflictions and crosses, he hath fellowship in our nature to bear our sins and infirmities. Now since he hath partaken in these, you are invited to come and have fellowship with him in his gifts and graces, in the precious merits of his death and • uffering, in his • ising again and returning to glory. And this is the exchange he makes and declares in the Gospel, I have taken your sins • nd cu • ses, O come and take my graces, and that which is purchased by my blood. Now this is the first beginning of • souls renewed fellowship with God, and it is the foundation of all that is to come, to embrace this offer, to accept him cordially as he is presented, and to pacify and quiet our own hearts by saith in that he hath done. And this being once laid down • s the ground-stone, the soul will grow up into more communion with him.

To speak aright of this communion, would require more acquaintance with it, then readily will be found amongst us: but it is more easy to understand in what it is exercised and entertained, then to bring up our hearts unto it. Certainly it must neither be taken so low and wide, as if it consisted all in these external duties, and approaches of men to God; for there is nothing capable of communion with the Father of spirits, but a Spirit ; and sure I am, the most part of us removes them, and acts little that way. It is a lamentable thing that men pretend to please God with such vain empty shows, • nd bodily appearances, without any serious exercise of their souls, and attention of their minds in divine worship. Neither yet must it be taken so high, and made so narrow, a • if it consisted only in these ravishments of the soul after God, which are joined with extraordinary sweetness and joy, or in such rare pieces of access and liberty; for though that be a part of it, yet is it neither universal to all God's children, nor yet constant in any. The • e may be some solid serious attendance on God in his Ordinances, which may have more true substantial life in it, and more of the marrow of Christianity in it, though a soul should not be acquainted with these • aptures, nor ever carried without the Line of an equal walking with God. Therefore that which I would exhort you to, i • to acquaint yourselves with Jesus Christ, and you shall find a new way opened in him, by which you may boldly come • to God, and having come to God in him, you are called to walk with him, to entertain that acquaintance that is made, till all the distance and estrangednesse of your heart • be worn out. And I know not anything which is more apt either to beget, or preserve this fellowship, then the communication of your spirits often with him in prayer, • nd with his word in meditation, and this is not to be discharged as a custom, but the love of God within, drawing the heart willingly towards communication with him, and constraining to pour out your requests to him, and wait on him, even though ye should not find that sensible sweetness that sometimes is found. It were an happy advancement in thi • fellowship, if converse with God, whether in prayer and solemn retirements, or in meditation, or in our ordinary walking, were become the delight of our hearts, at least that they might be carried that way towards the entertaining the thoughts of his Majesty, his Glory, and Grace, and Goodness, and Wisdom shining everywhere, as from a natural instinct, even when we are not engaged with the present allurements of that sweetness that sometimes accompanies it.

SERMON VII·

IT was sin that did f • rst break off that fellowship that was between God and man, and cut off that blessed society, in which the honor and happiness of man consisted; but that fundamental bond being loosed, it hath likewise untied all the links of society of men among themselves, and made such a general dispersion and dissipation of mankind, that they are almost like wild beasts, raging up and down; and in this, wilder then beasts, that they devour one another, which beasts do not in their own kind; and they are like fishes of the Sea, without rule and government. Though there be some remnants of a sociable inclination in all men, that shows itself in their combinings in societies, and erecting governments; yet generally that which is the true bond and ligament of men, which alone can truly knit them together, is broken, that is love, the love of God and our neighbors ; And therefore notwithstanding of • ll the means used to reduce, and to contain mankind in order and harmony by government; yet there are nothing but continual rents, distractions, dissipations, divisions, and dissolutions in Commonwealths amongst themselves, and between Nations; so that all men may be represented as Lions, Tigers, Wolves, Serpents, and such like unsociable creatures, till the Gospel come to tame and subdue them, as it is often holden out in the Prophets, Isai. 2.4. and 11.6, 7, 8. and 65.25.

Now indeed you have here the express end and purpose of the Gospel, to make up these two great breaches in the creature, between God and men, and between men and men. It is a Gospel of peace; where ever it takes hold of men's spirits, it reduceth all to a peaceable temper, joins them to God, • nd one to another: for the very sum and substance of it is the love of God to mankind, and proposed for this end, to engage the love of man again; and love is the glew, the cement that alone will conjoin hearts unto this fellowship. It is a strange thing, and much to be lamented, that Christendom should be a field of blood, an Aceldama, beyond other places of the world: that where the Gospel is pretended to be received, that men have so far put off even humanity, as thus to bite and devour one another. Certainly it is, because where it is preached it is n • t believed: therefore sin taketh occasion by it to become the more sinful ; always let us take heed to this, that it is the great purpose and grand design of the Gospel preached to u • , to restor • us to a blessed society and fellowship with the Father, and withal, to a sweet fellowship amongst our selv • s; for both you see are here.

We are called to fellowship with the Father, • nd what is that? but to have the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ thy Father, and thou to be his son by adoption of grace: It is certainly the very marrow and extract of the whole Covenan • , and all the promises thereof, I will be your Father, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty, 2 Cor. 6.18. I go (saith Christ) to your Father and my Father, and to your God and my God. O what a sweet complication and interchange of relations, Job. 20.17.

I will be your God, and ye shall be my people, he • e is the Epitome of all • appinesse and felicity; In this word all i • inclo • ed, and without this, nothing is to be found that deserves the desires of an immortal spirit: For hence it follows, that a soul is filled with the all-fullness of God, Eph. 3.19. for that is made over to thee who believes the Gospel, and thou hast as real a right and title to it, as men have to their f • thers inheritance. Then to have fellowship with his Son Jesus Christ, is • nother branch of this dignity, and this is that which introduceth the other, Christ is the middle person, the Mediator between God and man, given for this end, to recover men from their woeful dispersion, and separation from God, and reduce them • gain to that blessed society: and therefore our acquaintance, as it were, first begins with him, and by him we are led to the Father, No man can come to the Father but by the Son : Therefore, if you have his friendship, you have done the business • , for he and his Father is one.

Now this fellowship, to branch it forth mor • particularly, is either real, or personal: Real, I mean, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Bonorum, a communion of all good things, a communion with him in his Nature, Offices, and Benefits, and thi • must be laid down as the foundation-stone of thi • fello • ship, he came near us, to partake of flesh and blood with us, that we might have a way, • ne • and living way consecrated, even the veil of his flesh, to come to God by; for certainly this gives boldness to a soul to draw near to God, with some expectation of success and acceptation, when it is seriously considered, that our nature is so nearly conjoined already to God; by this step a soul climbs up to the Majesty of God, and by means of this, we become partakers of the Divine Nature, , as God of Human Nature, 2 Pet. 1.4. So by the same degrees we ascend to God, that God hath descended to us; he drew near us by our nature, and we by the intervention of that same ascend to him, and receive his image and stamp on our souls: for the Lord did stamp his own image upon Christ's Human N • ture, to make it a pattern to us, and to represent to us, as in a visible symbol and pledge, what impression he would put upon us: Then we have fellowship with him in his Offices, I need not branch them out severally, you k • ow what he was anointed for, to be a Priest ▪ to off • r s • crifice, and reconcile u • to God, an • • o make intercession for u • ; to be • King, • o ru •• us by his Word and Spirit, and defend u • • g • inst our enemies▪ to be • Prophet, to r • veal • he will of God to u • , 〈◊〉 instruct us in 〈◊〉 same. He • e • s • large field o • fellowship, we h • ve • dmit • an • 〈◊〉 by faith in Jesus Christ, to th • real • dva • tage • nd benefit of • ll these▪ there i • nothing in them but it r • late • to us, • nd • edou • ds to us, the living ver • ue of that sacrifice, i • as fresh and recent this day, to send up • favor of rest • o Heaven, and to pacify a troubled conscience, as the first day it was offered: That perfect sacrifice is as available to thy soul, as if thou had offered it thyself, and this day ye have the benefit of his prayers in Heaven, we partake of the strong cries and tears in the days of his flesh, and of intercession since, more then of our own supplications. What shall I say? ye have one to teach you all things that is needful for you; one to subdue your sins under you; and by virtue of fellowship with Jesus Christ in these Offices, there is something derived from it, and communicated to us by it, that we should be Kings and Priests to God our Father; Kings to rule over our own s • i • it • and lusts, in as • ar as grace reigns in us to eternal life, and that is truly a heroic royal spirit, that overcomes himself and the world; and Priests, to offer unto God continually the sacrifice of prayer and praises, 1 Pet. 1.3, 4, 5. which are sweet smelling and pleasant in his fight; yea, we should offer up our own bodies a • a reasonable service, Rom. 12.1. and this is a holy • nd living sacrifice, when we dedicat and consecrate all our faculties, members, and ability • to his will and service; and do not spare to kill our lust • , which are his and our enemies.

Let us sum up • ll in this, whatsoever grace or gift is in Christ Jesus, whatsoever preeminence he hath above Angels and men; whatsoever he purch • sed, he purchased by his obedient life, and patience in death, there i • nothing of all that, but the soul may be admitted to fellowship in it, by its union with him by • aith; have him, and have all that he hath: Faith mak • s him • ours, and all that he hath is a consequential appendix to himself: the Word of the Gospel offers him freely to you, with all his benefits, interests, and advantages, O that our hearts may be induced to open to him.

N • w being thus united to Jesus Christ, that which I would pe • swade next to, is a personal communion, that is, a suitable entertainment of him, a conjunction of your soul to him by love, and a conspiracy of all your endeavors henceforth to please him: It is certain, that true frien • ship is founded on a conjunction and harmony of souls by affection, by which they cease to b • two, and becomes in a manner one; for love makes • kind of transport of the soul into another, and then all particul • r and proper interests are drowned in oblivion, no more mine and thine, but he makes an interchange, mine th • ne, and thine mine, my heart thine, and thy honor mine. Now certain it is, that in this God hath given us a rare pattern, and leads the way; for he declare • hi • love to the world, in the rarest effects of • t, which give the clearest demonstrations possible; God so loved the world, that he sent his Son: And you have the most in • allible argument of the Sons love, greater love hath no m • n th • n this, to lay down his life for his friends, but h • for his enemies. Now then, you see how the heart of God and his Son Jesus Christ is fixed from everlasting on the sons of men so unalterably, and so fully set towards them, that it hath t • ansported the Son out of his own glory, and brought him down in the state of a servant. But it is not yet known what particular persons are thus fixed upon, until that everlasting love break out from under ground, in the engagement of thy souls love to him, and till he have fastened this chain, and set this seal on thy heart, which makes thee impatient to want him: thou knowest not the seal that was on his heart from ete • nity. But now the love of a believer being the result of his love, this is it that is the source and spring of constant communion: and it vents itself in converse with God, and daily entertainment of him in our spirits and ways; There is a keeping of company with him in prayer and meditation, and all the Ordinances; there is a communication and familiar conference of the heart with him, either in thinking on him, or pouring out our requests to him; there is a mutual and daily intercourse and correspondence of that soul with God, in answering his word by obedience, in praying to him, and receiving answers from him, and then returning his answer again with a letter of thanks • nd praise, as it were; these are the ways to increase that love of God, and kindle it up to a higher flame; and it being thus increased, it gathers in all the endeavors and abilities of the soul, and sets all on fire, as a sweet • melling sacrifice to plea • e him: It is henceforth the great study of the soul, to remove all things that are offensive to him; for the entertaining of sin, his enemy, is most inconsistent with this true fellowship and friendship: If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me, Psal. 66.18. This will ma • r that sweet correspondence in prayer and praises; for it is a breach of peace and Covenant, to regard and maintain his enemies; therefore the • oul that loves God, will study to compose it sel • in all things to his good pleasure, as well as his love that is strong as death, puts him upon a careful watching, to do all things for our profit; and so this takes in our whole carriage and walking in religious approaches, or in common b • sines • es, to have this as our great design, Conversing with God, and walking to all w • ll-pleasing.

Now if we were once enrolled in this blessed fellowship with the Father and the Son, then it follows as a fruit and result of thi • , that we should have fellowship one with another, and truly the more unity with God, the more unity amongst ourselves; for he is the uniting, cementing principle: he is the Cen • er of all Christian • , and as Line • , the forth • they are from the Center, the farrer distant they are one from another; so the distance and elongation of souls from God, sets them at furthest distance amongst themselves: The nearer we come everyone to Jesus Christ, the nearer we join in • ffection one to anot • er: and this i • imported in that of Ch • ist • Prayer, That they may be one in us, Joh. 17 21, 22▪ No unity but in that one Lord, and 〈◊〉 perfect unity but in a perfect union with him. I would exhort to study this more, to have fellowship one with another, as member • of the same body, by sympathy, by mutual helping one another in spiritual and temporal things: Even amongst Christians that live obscurely in • City, in a Village, there is not that harmoniou • agreement and consent of hearts, that contention and plea of love, of gentleness, and forbearance, who shall exercise most of that; but there are many jealousies, heart-burnings, g • udg • ngs, st •• fes, evil speakings, &c. to the stumbling of others, and the weakening of yourselves, which certainly argue that ye are much ca • nal, and walk as men, and that the love of God, and fellowship with him is waxed cold, and is languished and dead, &c.

SERMON VIII·

ALL motions tend to rest and quietness, we see it daily in the motions below, and we believe it also of the circular revolutions of the Heavens above, that the • e is a day coming in which they shall cease, as having performed all they were appointed for; And as it is in things natural, so it is in things rational in a more eminent way, their desire • , affections, and actions, which are the motions, and stretches of the soul towards that it desires, and apprehends as good, tends of their own nature, and are directed by the very intention of the soul, to some rest and tranquility, some joy and contentation of spirit. If other things that have no knowledge, have their center of rest, how much more must man, who is an understanding c • eature, have it by the ordination and appointment of God? But there is this wide difference in the point of capacity of happiness, between man and other creatures, that they, whatsoever excellent virtues or properties they have, yet know them not themselves, and so can neither enjoy what excellency themselves have, nor have use of what is in others; for, to what purpose is it to shine forth, if there be no eye to see? What advantage hath • he Rose in its fragrancy, if it cannot smell itself? That which is not perceived, is as if it were not. And therefore it is an evident testimony that all these visible things were created, not for themselves, but for man's sake who knows them, can use them, and enjoy them: here is then the peculiar capacity that God hath given to man, to discern and know what he seeks, what he hath, • nd possesses, that so he may be able to enjoy it, or use it, according to the nature of it. This is a great point of God's Image, and conformity with him, whose infinite blessedness and joy • iseth from that pe • fect comprehension, and intuitive beholding of himself, and his own incomprehensible riches; So then, man's happiness or mise • y must depend upon this, both wh • t the soul fixeth upon, and what it apprehendeth to be in it; for, if that eternal and universal good, the all-fullness of God, be the center of the soul • desires and endeavors, and there be apprehended and discovered in God, that infinite excellency, and variety of delights, which nothing else can afford so much as a shadow of, then, there cannot but result from such a conjunction of the souls • prehension, suitable to the fullness of God, • nd of the excellency and goodness of God, suitable to the desires of the soul, such a rest and tranquility, such joy and satisfaction, as cannot choose but make the soul infinitely happier then the enjoyment of any other thing could do.

This being the thing then, which all me • s desires naturally tend unto, this tranquility and perfect satisfaction of the heart, being th • t which carries all men's hearts after it, and that which men seek for itself, and which they seek in all oth • r things; the great misery of man is, that he mistakes the way to it, and seeks it where it is not to be found. The generality of men, are so far degenerated both from the impression of a divine Majesty, and the sense of an immortal being within themse • ves, that they imagine to content, and ea • e their own hearts, in these outward, uncon • taunt, perishing things, and so their life i • spent in catching at shadows, in • eeding on the wind, in laboring in the fire. There is nothing so plentifully satisfies our expectation • , as can quite the cost, and recompense the expenses o • our labor, toil, grie • , and travel about it; there is nothing therefore but a continual, restless agitation of the heart, from one thing to • nother, and that in a round circling about, from one thing that now displeases or disappoint • , to thing • that were formerly loathed; as a sick man tu • ns him from one side to • nother, or changes bed • often, and at length retu • ns, expecting to find some ease where he lay at first. And it may be judged, that all circular motions are eternal, and so they can never be supposed to attain their end, that is rest and tranquility; therefore a soul thus carried in a round, by the vain imaginations of his heart, is likely never to settle and find solid rest and peace. Nay, how is it possible that they c • n give that tranquility and contentation to the heart and soul of man, that are so utterly in their natures disproportioned to it? both because they are only suited to the senses, and likewise, for that they are changeable. Now the soul is framed with a higher capacity, and can no more be satiated with visible things, then a man that is hungry can be satisfied with gold; and besides, it is immortal, and must have something to survive all the changes of time, and therefore is likely to rest nowhere but in that which hath eternal stability. Now though these things cannot truly fill the heart, yet they swell the belly, like the east wind, or like the prodigals husks, fill it with wind, which causeth many torments and distempers in the soul; and though they cannot give ease, yet they may be as thorns to prick and pierce a man through with many sorrows, as our Savior speaks: so that there is no more wisdom or gain in this, then in gathering an armfull of thorns, and inclosing and preassing hard unto them, the more hardly and strongly we grip them, the more grievously they pierce us; or as if a man would flee • into a hedge of thorns in a tempest, the further he thrust into it, he is the wor •• pricked; and that which he is fallen into, is worse then that he fleeth from. I am sure all your experiences give • • harmonious testimony to this, that there is no solid, permanent, constant, and equable heart-joy and contentation in all the f • ncied and imaginary felicities that this world adores. There is nothing of these things, that is not lesser, and lower in actual possession, nor in the first apprehension of them affar off. Nothing in them answers either our desires or expectations; and therefore, instead of peace and tranquility, they breed more inward torment and disquiet, because of that nec • ssary and inevitable disappointment that • ttends them. Therefore th • Apostle • passeth all these things in silence, when he is to wri • e of purpose, to give a fullness of joy; for he know • that in them there is neither that joy, nor that fullness of joy he would wish for them; but it is other things he writes for this end.

Now indeed there hath been some wiser then others, that have their apprehension far above the rest of mankind, and have labored to frame some rules and precepts to lead man into this true rest and tr • nquillity. And truly, in this they have done much to discover the vanity and madness of the common practice of men; and to draw man from sensible and outward thing • , to things invisible and spiritual; yet there is a defectivenesse in all the rules that natural reason can reach unto; there is some crookedness withal adhere • to them, which shows our departure from our original. There are many excellent discourse • of morality in Heathens W •• tings, which may be very subservient to a Christian, • nd useful to the composing and settling of his mind, • midst all the fluctu • tions and uncertainties of this world: they may come well in as Subsidy • and Guards to a Christians heart, to preserve that peace and joy it hath from God, • nd keep out the ordinary tumultuous passions • hat disturb the most part of men: But here is the lamentable failing, that while they call • man off things without, as • dventitious, they lead him but in to his own spirit within, as if he could there find that rest in the very enjoyment of his poor miserable wretched self. but Christ Jesus calls us in to our own spirits, not to dwell there; • or O, what a loathsome and irksome habit • tion is a defiled heart, and a guilty conscience? but rather that finding nothing of that joy and refreshment within, we may then freely and fully fo • sake ourselves, as well as the world without▪ and transport in to God in Christ, the only habitation of joy and delight, that being filled with anguish from the world, and from ourselves, we may more willingly divorce from both, and agree to join unto Jesus Christ, and to embrace him in our hearts, who is the only fountain of life and joy; who had no other errand and business from Heaven, but to rep • ir man's joy, as grievous a breach a • any in the Creation: • thing as much missed and sought after, as • ny thing, ye • , sought • ster in all things that are so • ght: John. 15.11. These things I have spoken to you tha • your joy may be full. Therefore the Apostle propound • this as the end of his writing on thi • subject, the word of life, these things I write that your joy may be full, and the way to attain this fullness of joy, he expressed in the former verse, by fellowship with the Father and the Son.

That which mak • s all other things disproportioned to the soul of man, to give it this joy, is the extreme unsuitableness between them; that the soul hath • n infinite c • pacity, and besides • n immortality of endur • nce, but they are condemned under impotency to supply that infinite void; and inconstancy by which they must needs pe • ish, and leave the soul without all comfort, and with more anxiety. But in these things written here, we find all things suited and proportioned to the very great exigence of the soul. There is a ••• tablenesse in them, because of their spiri ••• l n • ture, whereby they may close immediately with thy spirit, other things are material, and corporeal, and what union, what fellowship can a spirit be supposed to have with them? they are extrinsic, advenient things, that never come to a nearer union with thy soul; and though they co • ld, they would debase thy soul, and not ex • lt it, because of a baser inferior Nature. But these thing • , Jesus Christ, eternal life in him, these precious promises of the Gospel, these spiri •• all privileges of sonship, &c. these are of • more d • vin • n • ture, and by med • tation and 〈…〉 come to close with them: These are inward things, more near the soul that believes, then himself is to himself; and so he may always carry them about in his • eart, which may be • spring of everlasting joy, this no m • n c • n take from him, Joh. 16 • 2. For the ground • nd fountain is inward, seated without the • each o • all thes • vicissitude • and change • : The • a • they have • s • itablenesse, so they have a fullness in them, to creat fullness of joy▪ They are cordi • l • to the he • rt, things that are in • heir own nature refreshing to the soul, and ap • to b • ge • heart-joy. O • her thing • are not suitable to thi • , to produce any suc • inward • oul-comp •• cency; the things that are from without, •• ac • not so deep as the heart, they make their impressions rather on the outwa • d senses, to • ickle and please them, or the countenance, to put • ome pleasing sh • pe upon it: but the wise man pronoun ••• h all the • e joys that a • ise from external things▪ to be • upe • ficiall, only skin-deep, in the midst of laughed • r the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is he • vinesse, Prov. 14.13. Ex • rema gaud • luctus occupat. There is no solid recreation to the soul, in its retired thoughts from all the delights of the senses: it is but like the pleasure of the itch, which no man es • eems pleasure. But besides, as the things of the Gospel affect the heart and soul, by bringing soul-mercy • , and treasures, as fo • given • sse of sin, hope of Heaven, &c. so there is a fullness in them, which may answerably fill all the corners of the heart with joy; there is an unexhaustednesse in these things, an universality in Christ, all in all, all the treasures of wisdom are in him : and may not this cause surely an •• gh spring tide of joy. The heart is eased upon the lowest clear apprehension of Christ and the Gospel, it gives a he • t-serenity and c • lmnesse to a troubled soul, that nothing else could do, yet to make up the fullness of joy, as well as the solidity of it; to extend the measure of it, as well as to beget the true q • ality of it; it is requisite • hat not only there be a f • lnesse in the object, that is full, superabundant, ample matter of rejoicing; but there must be a kind of fullness in the app • ehension, it must be rep • esented fully as it is, and the clouds of unbelief scattered; and then indeed, upon the full aspect of the Gospel, and Christ in it, there is a fullness of joy that flows in to the soul, as the Sea is filled upon the full aspect of the Moon. Oh, that we could believe this, that there is a fullness of joy here, and nowhere else; certainly this • lone being pondered and sunk into our hearts, would be a powe • f • l refo • mer in us, and among us; How would it carry men's hearts to a disgracing and despising all the things that are held in admiration by men? How would it turn the channel of men's judgments, opinions, affections, an • conversations? for certainly whithersoever the Tide of joy flows, thither the heart is carried, and it is that all men are seeking, though they take many contrary and diverse ways, as their own fancy leads them. Now if once this were established in thy soul, that here is that truth • nd fullness of joy, which elsewhere is ignorantly and vainly • ought; would it not divert thy desires, and turn the current of thy affections and endeavor • , to • all into this Ocean of gladness and delight? Elsewhere there is neither true joy, nor full joy, nec verum nec plenum gaudium ; there is no verity in it, it is but an external garb and sh • dow, and there is no plenty or fullness in it; it fills not the hand of the reaper, it satisfieth not his very hunger. But here, when a soul is possessed with Christ by faith, and dwelleth in God by love, there is both reality • nd plenty: all the dimensions of the heart may be filled up; Some allegorize upon the triangular composition of man's heart, that no orbicular thing, such as this world, can fill it exactly without vacuity, but only the blessed and holy Trinity. Truly we may conceive, this fullness of joy, excluding all the latent griefs of the heart, and filling up all the vacant corners, doth flow from that blessed fellowship of the Father and the Son. Now though these two be only mentioned, yet the Holy Ghost must not be excluded, for the Apostolic Prayer doth attribute chiefly our fellowship with God to the Spirit, so that it is the Spirit units our hearts, and associates them to God, that seems to correspond between him and us: So then there is such a fellowship with the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, that leaves no vacuity in the heart, that fills all the dimensions and corners of it with peace and joy.

But add unto this, in the third place, that these things have not only a fullness, but withal a durableness; not only plenty, but besides, eternity and perpetuity, to correspond to the immortality of the soul; And this certainly is • great congruity, and so makes up much beauty and harmony; for what more incongruous and unsuitable, then for an immortal spirit to spend itself, and give up itself to that which is not▪ which must le • ve • t, whi •• is mo • t • l, and • ading in its own nature, without whic • , it must continue infinitely longer then it can enjoy it? And what more comely, then for an immortal thing to • ssociat to eternal things, and • o derive it • joy from an eternal spring? For then, when all things vi • ible a • e done away, and things mortal abolished, then its joy none can take from it ; because it t • kes its joy from that, which must survive all these changes. Suppose anything could for the pre • ent give a fullness of joy, and absolute content to the heart, yet if we imagine that thing may be separated and disjoined • rom the heart, and cease to be, certainly the ve • y expectation of such an ete • nal separation, would almost extinguish all the joy, and make it dry up of the fullness: For, may a soul think, What shall I do forever when this Well dries? Whence shall I draw water of joy? Out of what Well? But now, that fear is removed, and the soul need • not loss the swee • ness of the present enjoyment of God, through anxious foresight of the future, because he may know, th • t the perfect fullness that shall never ebb, is but coming, and the Sun is but ascending yet towards the Meridian, from whence he shall never go down, but stand fixed, to be the eternal wonder and delight of Angel • and men.

Now though it be true, that Christians here, have neither that plenty, nor that perpetuity of this joy, that the object of it gives ground for; though their hearts be often filled with g • iefs and sorrows, partly from outward, partly from inward evils and afflictions; yet certainly this ariseth but from the dark apprehension, dim belief, and slight consideration of these things that Christ spoke, and his Apos • les wrote unto us; We might, no question, keep ou • hearts in more peace and tranquility, in all the commotions of the times, or alterations in ourselves, if we did more steadfastly believe the Gospel, and keep mo • e constant fellowship with God. But however it be, there is radically a fullness of joy in every believers heart, that seed is sown, that shall one day be • ipe of fullness of joy, it is always lying at the root, and reserved for them. O, let us lay these things to heart, which being laid to heart, and laid up in the heart, will fill it with this sweet fragrant perfume of peace and joy▪ They are written for this end, let us hear them for this end too, that our joy may be full. It i • true indeed, that this fullness of joy suits only the lise to come, when the vessel is both inl • rged • nd strengthened to contain it: Things that have strong spirits in them, must have strong n • w bottle • , such as our cr • zy mortal bodies are no • ; therefore the Lord hath reserved the just fullness, the overflowings of this joy, for the time that the soul shall be purified from all sin, and the body delive • ed from all corruption: Because that s • n lurks in many corners of the heart now, therefore this joy cannot fill up the heart, and all the vacuities of it; for it is of so pure and heavenly a nature, that it will not compou • d an • inte • mingle wi • h sin, or sinful lusts; but when nothing of th • t remains in the heart, then it flows-in apace, and leaves no corner of the heart unsatisfied and unsupplied. I would have you, who get some tastes of this joy and peace by the way, not di • quieted and troubled, because it abides not to be ordin •• y • ood; if you be set down again to your ordinary spare diet of Mann • in the Wilderness, and have not these fi • st f • uits and G • apes of Canaan often sent to you; think it n • t st • ange, • or the fullness which you • eek, you are not capable of here, but you sh • ll be c • pable of it hereafter. You ought with patience to wait • or that day, when your joy shall be fall, as Christ is full, full measure, heaped up, and running over, will he me •• out unto you then: and this • hall be without the fear of any ebb or diminution of it for all eternity; neither shall this fullness, and cons • ant fullness, cloy the soul, or breed any satiety in it: there is fullness of joy without surfeit, without satiety; that which th • y hav • , they shall always desire, and • hat which th • y desire, they shall always have: everlasting desi • e, and everlasting delight, being married together in their • ulnesse. But yet so much is a • tainable h • re, • s may truly be called fullness, in regard of the world; The fullness of joy that • ll the pleasures of this earth can afford, is but sca • cety and want, to the inward fullness o • joy and contentation, • he poorest believers may have in God, reconciled in Christ. That which the wise man gives as the character of all earthly joy, • uits well, I said of laughter, it is mad, and of mirth, wh • t doth it? Eccl. 2.2. Truly it can • ot be supposed to be more • eal, then that which is the ground and spring of it. I • must be a perfunct •• ious, superficial, and empty joy, that is derived and distil • ed from such vanities. Nay, there is a madness in it besides, for men's apprehensions to swell so excessively, towards poor, narrow, and limited things; it is a monster in reason, to put such value upon nothing, and make ourselves glad upon our own dreams and • ancies; There is such a manifest abuse and violation of re • son in it, • hat it can be supposed to proceed • rom nothing but a distemper in men • hearts. But be • ides • his, there are two other characters of it given, Prov. 14.13. Even in l • ughter the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that •• rth is heaviness. There is no pure earthly joy; for it hath always a mixture of grief and sadness in the • oward retired closet of the heart; it is of such deadness and inefficacy, that it drives no • out of the heart all discontentments and anxieties; but is the most jovial man, that seem • to be transported with his delights, would but retire within, and examine his own conscien • e, • e would find those delights have but little power to affect his heart; he would find terrible and dreadful represent • tions there, that his joys may well for a time darken them, bu • cannot drive them away: and then it is the ve • y natural law, and fatal necessity, th • t grief follows these joys at the heels, yea, is pe • petually attending them, to come in their place; God hath so conjoined them together, and so disposed them, that men's j • y shall be mingled with grief, but their g • ief is pu • e and unmixed; and that he who draws up joy to him from the creatures, must draw g • ief and vexation in that same chain, inseparably annex • d to it by the wise ordination of God.

But there are joys of the Holy Ghost, arising from the intimati • n and app • ehension of th • Gospel, from the consideration • f the grace and goodness of God manifested in it, and the experience of that in the soul, which are of • nother stamp and nature. These indeed affect th • heart, and give the answer of a good con •• ience, in th • blood of Christ, which is a continual feast; these drive out the bitter and dreadful apprehensions of sin and wrath; these sweeten and refr • sh th • soul in all woe • ldly afflictions and g • iefs: The heart of man kn • weth his own bitterness, and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy, P • ov. 13.10. Indeed, the to • ments and perplexities of a troubled soul, are better felt by themselve • , t • en known by others, and so are the joys of th • t heart that • pprehends Jesus Christ, and peace p • rchased in him, they a • e such, as no man that is a stranger to such thing • in his experience can app • ehend. It is a joy u • speakable ; O what un • peakable content gives it to the heart. And truly if you did not interpose the clouds of unbelief and sin between you and his shining countenance, there needed not be so often an Eclipse in the joys of believers; yet the day is coming that ye shall see him fully as he is, and nothing be interposed between you and him, and then your joy sh • ll be full, &c.

SERMON IX·

THe great design of the Gospel is to make up the breach of man's joy, and open up the way to the fullness of it: and therefore it is the good news and glad •• dings of great joy, the only best message that ever came to the world. Now it shows unto us the channel, that this river of gladness and joy runs into; it discovers what is the way of the conveyance of it to the soul, and what are the banks it runs between, and that is, fellowship with the Father and the Son. In this channel that river of delight runs, between the banks of the love of God to us, and our love to him. Herein a soul is happy, and accounts itself happy; and truly, in so much do we profit by the Word, and answer the design of the Gospel, by how much we estimat our happiness from this alone, from the communication of God to u • . Whensoever the Gospel take • hold of your hearts, it will undoub • edly frame them to this, to a measu • ing of all blessedness from God alone: and this will carry the heart to an undervaluing of all other things, as being too low, and unworthy for this end; and so to a forsaking of anything for the closser enjoyment • f God. I fea • many believers are little acquainted with this joy, because they draw not their joy singly out of the pure fountain of delight; but turn aside to other external comf •• ts, and drown their souls in them. Now indeed, these two cannot well consist • ogether, if we • ache in anything else to make up our happiness and comfort, so much we lose of God and that which is • ruly spiritual; and therefore our hearts would be more purified from carnal delights, if we would have experience of this joy: we must hang only upon his countenance and company, el • e we lose the swe • tnesse of it.

Now the Apostle prosecutes this further, to discover what confo • mity must be betwee • them that should keep this fellowship; • nd wh • t likeness of n • ture and qualities is nec • ssary for them who would be happy in God's society. This is the message we have heard (saith he) • nd which we declare unto you, that God is light, &c. T • ke this jointly, with that which went before; This we declare, that ye may have fellowship with the Father, and the Son. And to the end this fellowship may hold, and yield you fullness of joy, it is necessary that the nature of God be laid down, a • the patte • n to which ye must be conform. God is light, and therefore you must be light too, if ye would have fellowship with that pure light. Now this, I say is the full message of the Gospel, that which was sent down from Heaven, with the Son of God, the M • ssenger of the Covenant, and which the Apostles heard from him; Indeed the very manner of the proposal of these things might stir up our hearts to attention, and make us more serious then commonly we are, That there is one, and such an one sent from Heaven, with such an embassage as this is, to invite us to society with God again, one whose interest lies in this, to make us happy; and this he declares unto us, that he hath no other design, but to fulfill our joy. O how powerful might this be on our hearts, to conquer them, to make them willingly hearken to him? Any mess • ge that comes from Heaven, should be received with great reverence and respect of mortal men; because it comes from the Court and Palace of the Great King. But when this i • the substance of it, to make us happy in himself, to advance us to this incomparable dignity of society with himself, in which society there is a fullness of joy; then how should we receive it with open he • ts, and entertain it gladly? If we could take it always thus, as a message from Heaven, and look upon it, and hear it in that notion, I think the fruit would be incomparably greater; for what i • it that makes it dead and ineffectual in men's hearts, but that the apprehension of it degene • ats and falls down from God to creatu • e • , beca •• e it is not taken so as his woe • d, carrying the s • amp of his divine authority: We bring it forth, n • t as a mes • age • rom him, but as f • om ourselves; and you receive it not as from him, but from us; an • thus it is adulte • ated and corrupted on both hands. My beloved, let us jointly mind this, that whatsoever we have to declare, it is a message from God to mortal men; and therefore let us so compose ourselves in his sight, as if he were speaking to us. The conscience of a very Heathen was awaked, when Ebu • told him he had a message from G • d to him: E • lon arose out of his se • t, that he might hear it reverently, Judge. 3.20. though it was a bloody message, as it proved in the event; yet so much the common dictates of reason might teach you, that ye should a • ise, and compose yourselves to • eve • ent and awful attention to what the Lord God will speak. But when moreover we know that the sum of the message is, to make us blessed, and raise us up to communion with him in his joy and happiness; we are not only called to reverence, a • to God, but to ardent af • ection and desi • e, as to him who by all means seeks ou • happiness. O how happy were he that could fi • st hear, and receive this message f • om him, and then decla • e it to others. But however, though we should fail in that, this doth not c • ange either the authority, or nature of the mess • ge itself; and therefo • e, i • men should be so far des • itute o • God, as not to bring it from him immediately, yet do not you • orsake your own mercy too; but receive it as that which is come forth f • om God; receive it for it sel • , as carrying in its bosom a fullness of joy to you; and receive it fo • his sake who moved this embassage first after sinners, and his sake who car • ied it to sinners, that is, for the Father, and the Son ; to whose fellowship you are here invited. Let us then hear the m • ssage:

This then is the mess • ge, that God is light, &c. The ground o • communion o • persons, is their union in nature, or likeness one to another. There is some general society between all mankind, as being conjoined in one common nature; but the contracting of that in a narrower bounds of affinity and consanguinity, doth enlarge the affection the mo • e: you see it is natural for those who are joined by such relations of blood one to another, to love one another more then others out of these bonds. But true friendship draws the c • rcle yet narrower, and contracts the love that is scattered abroad to mankind in a strange channel, to run towards one, or a few; and the foundation of this is some peculiar and particular si • ilitude, and likeness in manners, and sympathy of disposition, which makes the souls of men to melt one into another, after some conve • se and acquaintance together; this is the bond that knits this near society; some conformity necessarily presuppo • ed to communion and fellowship. Now th • t which holds so in the communion of man with man, must be much mo • e need • ul in man; communion with God: for all the societies, combinations, and conj • nctions of the creatures, are but shadows of this higher communicati • n of the spirit of man, with God the Father of spirits. And indeed we may find some rude dra • ghts and resemblances of this divine s • ciety, and of the rule according to which it must be model'd, in all the friendly or near conjunctions of creatures; for everything is best preserved, and agreeth best with things of its own nature: see the disposition of the parts of the world; things contiguous, and nearest other, are also likest in nature one to another, so it is • mong men, the several agreements, and symbolizing • of men's spirits in different qualities and tempers, makes several sorts of men, and parts them into so many companies: Pares paribus congregantur, simile simili gaudet.

Now, my beloved, this same supernatural and divine soc • ety that we speak of, must be constituted according to this fundamental rule, that is, It is necessary, to the end that God and man may have fellowship together, that they come nearer in likeness one to another: now for God, you know he cannot be liker us, for he is unchangeably holy and good: That were most absurd, to bring down his Majesty to parta • e of our wretched inf •• mities of sin and darkness. Indeed in this he hath come as far as his own nature and our good would permit, to communicate in our nature, and all the sinless infi • mities of it: It i • imp • ssible then that he should make up the distance by any change of himself, but we must be changed, and some way raised up to partake of the pu • ity of his nature, and be transformed into some likeness to him, and then is the foundation of society and fellowship laid down: This is the Apostles meaning, in declaring to us what God is, that according to that pattern, and in that glass, we may see what to con • orm ourselves to, and may have a particular determination of the great qualification of these who pretend to fellowship with God: God is light, and in him i • no darkness. Now take the just opposition, man is da • knesse, and in him is no light. Now what communion then can light have with da • knesse? either the light must become darkness, or the darkness become light; either the light must leave its glorious purity, and fors • ke its nature, which cannot be admitted, or else the darkness of men's souls must be wiped off, and abolished by the brightness of God • light; and then there may be a comm • nion between the primitive light, and the derivative light, between the o • iginal light, and that which flows out from the original. But take darkness, remaining darkness, and light, remaining light, and they cannot compone together; for t • e fi • st great separation that was m • de in the world, was between light and darkness: And God saw that light was go • d, and God divided between the light and the darkness, Gen 1 4. And so it is imp • ssible f • r men that live in the d •• knesse of their minds, in ignorance, and in the da • knesse of sinful lusts, that they can have any fellowship with God, who is a fountain of pure light, and undefiled • ancti • y. Wh • t hast thou to do to take my Covenant in thy mouth, &c. and this God saith to the wicked. It is an incongruous and unsuitable thing, for men to pretend nearness and interest in this God, and yet be buried in da • knesse and hatred of the light of personal reformation, as a Gold Ring in a Swines nose, that • ather deforms the Jewel, then beautifies the Beast: So are the pretensions of ignorant and wicked men, to this divine society, &c.

SERMON X·

WHo is a fit messenger to declare this message? Can da • knesse comp • ehend the light, or apprehend it? O • can those that a • e blind, • orm any lively noti • n o • light, to the inst • uction and persuasion of oath • s? Truly, no more can we conceive or speak of God, who i • that pure light, then a blind man can discourse on colors, or a deaf man on sounds; Who is blind as the Lord's servant? And therefore, who are more unmeet to declare this message of light? What reverence and godly fear ought this to be declared withal, when mortal man speaks of the eternal God unto mortal men? What composure of spirit should be in us? What trembling and adoration? For at our best we can but declare our own ignorance, and the furthest attainment in this knowledge, is but a further discovery of man's darkness; we have three ways of creeping towards that glorious light of God, fi • st, his own woe • ks are like some visible appearances of that invisible and incomprehensible God; and in these we know him, but not what he is in himself. Consider how dark • nd dull we are in piercing into the hidden natures of things, even below us, as Beasts and Plants: we behold some effects flow from them, but from wh • t principle these do flow, that we know not: How much less can we apprehend anything suitable of the Divine M • jesty, that is i • finitly above us, from these won • e • full and glorious woe • ks of his power and wisdom. Man is endowed with wisdom, to do some excellent works of A • t, as Planting, Gra •• ing, Building, Painting, Weaving, and such like. But the Be • sts that a • e b • low 〈◊〉 , cannot apprehend from these woe • ks what the nature of man is. Now is there not a more infinite distance, a greater disproportion between us and the Divine Nature, so that we cannot rise up to an understanding notion of it, in itself Nay, besides, one man will do many things which another cannot understand, he beholds th • Art of it, he sees the matter, but yet he canno • pierce into the mind o • the Work-man, and loo • upon that wisdom and idea of his mind: Therefore all that we can conclude from these wonderful works of God, is some silent admiration of him. If these be such, th • n what must he be? How infinitely distant from th • m, and transcenden • over them? but what he is, these cannot declare, and we cannot apprehend. Then we use to climb up to the knowledge of God, by attributing to him all the perfections, excellencies, and eminencies of the creatures: whatsoever commends them, we apprehend that originally and infinitely in him; and thus we spell out that Name that is most simply one, in many Letters, and Characters, acco • ding to our mean capacity, as children when they begin to learn; so we ascribe to him wisdom, goodness, power, justice, holiness, mercy, truth, &c. All which names being taken from the creatures, and so having significations suited to our imperfections, they must needs come infinitely short of him, and so our apprehensions of them: these are scattered among the creatures, therefore they cause diverse conceptions in us; but all these are united in him. He is a most simple, pure being, that eminently and virtually is all things; and properly is none of all.

Another way we have of apprehending him, by way of Negation, denying all the imperfections of the creatures, and removing them an infinite distance from him, and truly, though this be an imperfection in knowledge, yet it is the greatest knowledge we can attain to, to know rather what he is not, then what he is: He is not limited to any place, nor bounded with any measures and degree • s of perfection, as creatures are; therefore we call him Infinit : He is not comprehended within the limits of time, but comprehends all within himself; therefore he is Eternal: He is not subject to changes and alterations, therefore called Immutable : He is not compounded, as a result of diverse parts, therefore he is most purely Simple, and One : He is not like these things we see and hear, that fall under our senses; therefore we call him a Spirit, or a spiritual being. Now in all these weak endeavor • of man, to detain and fix his own spirit in the contemplation of God, if he cannot reach the understanding of what God is, yet certainly he will attain • his great point of wisdom, not to be ignorant of his own ignorance. And truly, my beloved, this is the thing that I would have us to learn to know, that the admiration of God in silence, is the best expression of him. We would not search into these mysteries, to satisfy our cu • iosity, but rather compose our hearts to a continue • l silent wondering before him▪ • or where our unde • standings are confounded, and ou • minds ove • whelmed with the infiniteness of th • t glory, so that we can see nothing but our own ignorance of all; this should certainly compose all to quiet admiration; for silence and wonder is the proper and natural posture of a soul that is at a stand, and can neither win forward for inaccessible light, nor will retire backward for that it apprehends already.

This then is the m • ssage, that God is light. B • cause we cannot conceive in our poor narrow mind • , what God is in himself, therefore he expresseth to us often in sim • litudes to the creatures, and condescends to our capacity. As he stands in manifold relations to us, so he takes the most familiar Names, that may hold out to our dull senses what we may expect of him: therefore he calleth himself a Father, a King, a Husband, a Rock, a Bu • kler, and strong • ower, a Mountain, and wha • soeve • else may • epresent to our he • ts that which may strengthen them in b • lieving. But there is no creature • o directly att • ibuted to God, as light : none used to express his very nature and being, a • a • stracted from these relations, but this, God is light, and Christ take • it to him • elf, the light of the world, and the life of men. The truth is, it hath some excellency in it above all other visible creature • , that it may fitly carry some resemblance to him. The Scripture calls light his garment, Psal. 104.2. and truly it is a more glo • io •• Rob of Majesty, then all the royal and Imperial Robs and Ga • ments of State, that either Angels or men could contrive. The light is, as it were, a visible appearance of the invisible God: He hath cove • ed his invisible nature with thi • glo • iou • Garment, to make himsel • in a manner visible to man. Its true, that light is, but a • it were, a shadow of that inaccessible light, umbra Dei. It is the dark shadow of God, who is himself infinitely more beautiful and glorious▪ But yet, as to us, it hath greater Glory and Majesty in it, then any creature besides. It is the chief of the works of God, without which the world would be without form, and void: it is the very beauty of the Creation, that which gives a luster and amiableness to all that is in it, without which the pleasantest Paradise would become a Wilderness, and this beautiful structure, and ado • ned P • lace of the World, • loathsome dun • eon. 〈◊〉 the admirable beauty of it, it hath a wond ••• ull swi •• convey • nce, throughout the whole woe • ld, the upper, and lower, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, it i • carried f • om the one end of heaven to the other in a mom • nt, and • ho c • n say by wh • t way the light is p • rt • l, Job, 8 24. M •• eover it car • ies alongst with it • beautiful influence, and refreshing heat and warmnes • , which i • t • e very life and sub • istence of • ll the creatu • es below. And so, as there • s nothing so beautiful, so nothing so unive • sally and hig • lie p • ofitable; and to all this, add that • ingular •• operty of it, that it is n • t capable o • in • ection, it i • of such absolute pu • ity, th •• it can c • mmu • icat itself to the dung-hill, as we • l as to the Garden, without receiving any mixtu • e from it: In all the impu • ities it m • ets withal, it • emains unmixed, and un • ain • ed, and p • eserves its own nature entire. Now you may perceive that there is nothing visible that is fitter to resemble the invisi • le God, then this glor • ou • , be • utiful, pure, and unive • sally communi • able c • eature, Light.

Hereby you may have shadowed out unto you the nature of God, that he is an all-knowing, intelligent being, as light is the first and p • incipal visible thing; yea, that which gives visibility to all things: and so is in its own nature a manifestation of all things material and bodily, so God is the fi • st object of the understanding: primum intelligib • le, & primum intelligens. Nothing • o fit • n emblem of knowledge, as light, and truly in that respect God is the original light, a pure intellectual light, that hat • in himsel • the perfect idea and comprehension of • ll things; he hath • nticipated in himself the knowledge of all, because all things were formed in his infinite understanding, and lay, as it were, first hid in the bowels of his infinite power. Therefore he is a Glob or Mass of light and knowledge, like the Sun, from whom nothing is hid; He •• and destruction are not covered to him, the • e i • no opacity, no darkness or thickness in the creation, that can terminat or bound this light, or hinder his understanding to pierce into it. Now all things by the irradiation of the light become visible, so the participation of this gloriou • Sun of Righteousness, • nd the shining of his be • ms into the souls of men, makes them to partake of that heavenly intellectual nature, and • eflects a wonderful be • uty upon them, which i • not in the • est of the world.

Besides, here is represented to us the absolute • purity and perfection of God's Nature, God i • light, and in him is no darkness ; Besides the purity of the light of knowledge, there is • purity of the beauty of holiness, the glorious light of God his virtue, and power, and wisdom, is communicated to • ll the creatures, there is an universal extent of hi • influence towards the good • nd bad, as the Sun shine • on both, and yet there is n • spot or stain upon his holiness or righteousness, from all his intermingling with the creatures, the woe • st and b •• est c • eatures. All his works are holy and righteous, even his woe • ks in unholy and unrighteous men; he draws no defilement from the basest of the creatures, nor yet from the sinfulness of it: He can be intimatly present, and conjoined in working, in vertu • and power, in care and providence, with the dirt and mi • e of the streets, with the beasts of the field, and yet that is no stain upon his honor or credit, as men would suppose it to be; no more then it is a dishonor to the Sun to shine on the dung-hill; in a word, there is no mixture of ignorance, darkness, impurity, or iniquity in him, not the least shadow of ch • nge, or turning, not the le • st seed of imperfection; in regard of him the Moon is not clean, and the Sun i • spotted; in respect of his holiness, Angel • may be charged with folly.

Then add unto this, to make up the resemblance fuller, the bounty and benignity of his influence upon the world, the flowings forth of his in •• nit goodness, that enricheth the whole earth: look as the Sun is the greatest and most universal benefactor, his influence and heat is th • very renovation of the world, it makes • ll new, and green, and flourishing; it puts a youth upon the world, and so is the very spring and fountain of life to • ll sub •• nary things. How much is that true of the true light, of the substantial, of whom this Sun is but a shadow, He is the life of the world, and the light of men. Every good gift and every perfect donation descends from him, Jam. 1.17. • is influence is more universal to the being, to the moving, to the living of all things. And then Jesus Christ the Sun of Righteousness is ca • ried a • o • t in the Orb of the Go • spel, and in his beams there is a healing virtue; t • e • e are the refreshment o • poor wea • ied soul • that a • e scorched with the anger of God. There i • an admirable heat and wa • mnesse of love and affection, that this glorious light carries embosomed in it, and that is it that pierces into souls, and warms hearts, and quickens dead spirits, and puts a new face upon all again. This is the spring of all the life that is truly spiritual; and it hath as sweet and comfo • tabl • effects upon the souls of men, who receive the truth in love, the light in love, that is, the light with heat, as ever-the Sun approaching • ear the earth, hath had upon plants • nd living creatures.

And to complete the resemblance more, there may be something of the infallibility, and incomprehensibili • y of the Divine M • jesty here represented; for though nothing be • learer then the light, yet there is nothing in it • own natu • e dark • then light: That which is so manifest to the eyes, How obs • ure is it to the understanding▪ M • ny debates an • inqui • ies have been abou • it, but yet it is n • t known wh • t t • at is, by which we know all things. Cer • ainly, such i • the Divine Light : It i • inconceivable, and inexpressible, there • ore he is • aid to dwell in light inac • essible, and full of glory, 1 • im. 6.16. There is a two- • o • d da • knesse that hinder • u • to see God, a da • knesse of igno • ance in u • , and a da • kne •• of inaccessible light in him: the one is a veil upon our hearts, w • ich blinds and darkens the souls of men, that they do not see that which is manifest of God, even in hi • works. O that cloud of unbelief that is spread over o • r soul • , which hinder • the glorious • ayes of that Divine Light to shine into them. Thi • darkness S • tan contribute • much to, who is the Prince of darkn • sse, 2 Cor. 4.4. this makes the most part of souls like dungeons within, when the glorious light of the Gospel surrounds them without: this earthliness and carnality of our hearts, makes them like the earth, receive only the light in the upper and outward supe • fice, and not suffer it to be • ransmitted into our h • arts, to change them. But when it pleaseth him, who at the fi • st, by a word of power, commanded light to shine out of d • rknesse, he can scatter that cloud of ignorance, • nd draw away • he veil of unbelief, and can by hi • power • nd art so transform the soul, a • to •• mo • e its earthly quality, and make it transpa ••• t and pure, and then the light will s • ine in to 〈◊〉 heart, 〈◊〉 get free access into the soul. But ••• ough this da • kn • s • e we • e wholly removed, •• ere is anothe • da • knesse, that ariseth not f • om • he wan • o • light, but •• om the exc • ssive supe • - • bundance o • light; Caligo 〈◊〉 nimiae, that is, a divine da • kness • , a da • knesse o • glory, such an infini • exc • sse and superplus • f light • nd glory, above all created capaci • ies, that it daz • es and c • nfound • all ••• tal or created unde • standing • . We 〈◊〉 s • me shad • ws o • • his, if we look up to t • e clear Sun; we are able to see nothing • or too much light, there is such an infinite disproportion he • e between the eye of our mind, and this di • ine light of glory, that if we cu • iously p • y • nto it, it is ra • her c • nfounding and astonishing; and therefore it fills the souls of Saints with continual silent admi • ation and adoration.

SERMON XI·

TRue Religion consists not only in the knowledge of God, but especially in conformity to him, and communion with him. Communion and fellowship with God is the great end and design of the Gospel, and it is the gre •• resul • of all a Chri •• ian • pain • and progress; it i • not only the greatest part of Religion, b • t the ve • y • eward of Religion too; • or piety hath its reward of happine • s in the bosom o • it, without borrowing f • om exte • nal things. Now th • t which this sweet and fragrant f • uit whic • per • ume • all the soul with delight, and • ills it with joy, springs out o • , is, Conformity to G • d, a •• imilation o • natu • e • nd dispo • ition, some likeness to God imprinted on t • e soul again in holy affections and di • positions, a co-incidency o • our will with the will of God, a drow • ing of it in the sea of his good pleasu • e, his Law in the inwa • d pa • ts. Now what is the root of this co • • o • mity, but the knowledge of God? this is that which hath a ve •• ue to tran •• o • m the soul into his similitude: You see then whe • e t • ue Religion begins lowest, and by what means it grows up to the sweet fruit of that eternal joy that shall be pressed out of the G • apes of fellowship with God: • o then whatsoever is declared of God unto u • in hi • Woe • d, whatsoever is holden • orth of him, it is not only set forth to be the subject o • our knowledge, but especially to be a patte • n for imitation, and to be an inflaming motive to our affection; This is the very substance of the ver • e.

This then is the mess • ge, I declare that God is light, and this I he • d not • rom Christ only for the • atisfaction of my curiosity, nor do I declare it to you only that you may know it, as if you had no more to do wit • it, but especi • lly that ye may know what ye ought to be in conformity to that light; the end o • your knowing God, i • to become liker God, if so be ye would have communion with him.

Let us take this rule then, to measure all our sea • chings a • ter God, and inquirings into him; ce •• ainly there ought to be more meditation, and inquiry of heart upon this subject, because it is the • pring of all life to the soul; it is that which en • icheth it most, and fills it with peace, joy, and delight, and brings in a treasure into a man • he • t, • uch a • Christ speaks of; A good man out of the good treasure of his heart, &c. Medication, much meditation on God, a stayednes • and fixedness of spi • it upon him, lays up a treasu • e in the heart; this is it that makes such a dif • e • ence between the heart and mouth of a righteou • man, and a wicked man; the heart of the wicked is little worth, for the total want of this; and there • ore their lips and tongues are void of edification, full of corruption. But where this spring floweth within, it maketh th • mouth of a man like a well of life; it maketh his lips li • e choice silv • r. O, the scantness and neglect of this amongst Christians, makes all to wither and decay: there is little searching after the Almighty, little employing and entertaining our spirits about him; low, slender, and single thoughts and app • ehensions o • him, which c • nnot but cause a deliquium and dec • y in all the part • of Christianity, wh • n the v • ry Sun is ••• pled from us by our ign •• ance, and inc • nsidera • ion of • im: and that so long, it must have dreadful eff • ct • upon us. Therefore let us be exhorted to this study, to give our spi • its to this employment, to think mo • e on G • d. But as I was saying, there is need of • • ule to me • sure us in it, • nd of some caution about it, that i • , th • t we have our end • ightly established, wha • we • im at in enq • iring after, or meditating upon God. If it be only to give entertainment to the curiosity of our mind • , as in the c • ntemplation of natural things, if it be • nly to p • y into secrets and mystery • , and to labor to comprehend th • t which is incomp • ehensible, then we lose our labor, and we a • e in danger to meet with • consuming fi • e, instead of instructing and re • reshing light. I would therefore have this g • arded against, the insatiable desire and greedine •• e of our minds after the knowledge of secret mysteries. We must set bound • here, and not over-stretch or strain our und •• standings, to compass his infinite being, as it is in itself: let us rather take him up as he i • revealed in the Scripture • , and so meditate • n him • s manifested in hi • Word and W • rks, hi • G •• ce, Mercy, Power, Wi • dom, &c. and read hi • name with delight in these la • ge volumes spread be • ore our eyes, &c.

Now the just measuring and regulating of all knowledge of God, is to direct it to a further end, to have nothing before us but this, that we may reve • ence, 〈◊〉 , and • ove him so much the more: and t •• s is the t • ing t •• t make • h acc •• s to him most easy and sweet, when • he design a soul h • t • , in a • l it • • e •• chings about him, is for thi • purpose, • o the end it may love him, and woe • ship him mo • e • ui •• bly, and be mor • c • n • o • med to him, when he is looked upon as • p • tte • n o • our con • o • mi • y, that is the • ight apprehension and up-taking of him, to know that God is light, and so to know i • , a • in it to behold the neces • ity of what qualification should be in us, that is indeed to know God. My beloved, let us co ••• der th • t so much we know of God, as we love him, and fe • r him, and are conformed unto him: f • r that knowledge which is not about this work and design; it is for no other purpose, but to be a wi • ness against a man, and the most hai • ous aggravation of his sins.

To come then to the pa • ticular in hand, God is light, and that is holden out and declared for this end, that there may be a pattern of the qualification of all that intend to enter into that society; if ye would have fellowship with God, then consider what you engage into, what manner of person he is, for • he inti • at knowledge of one another, is presupposed to all constant friendship: You must know then what God is, if ye would have communion with him, because there is no communion without some conformi • y, • nd no conformity without knowledge of him. Therefore as he is ligh • , so the soul must be made • ig • t in • im, and enlightened by him, that would have hi • • ociety: w • must b • transformed into that nature • , and made children of light, who were child • en of da • knesse. Now as there is a light of understanding, and wisdom in God, and a light of • olinesse and purity, so there is in our souls opposite to these▪ a da • knesse of ignorance and unbelief, and a da • kne •• of sin, and impurity of affections. Now what communion can light have with darkness ? Let every man ask this at his own heart, i • there be no happiness without this society, and no possibility of this society, while I remain in da • kness▪ then is it not high time to come to the light? This then is the fi • st change that is made in a soul, the da • knesse of ignorance and unbelief is driven out, by the approach of that gloriou • light of the Gospel into the heart, then is discovered unto the soul that defo • mity of sin, that loathsomeness in itself, that it never apprehended: then there is a manifestation of the hidden works of darkness, of the desperate wickedness of the heart, which lay un-observed, and unsuspected all the while, and now a man cannot in th • t view but abhor himself, for that which none else can see in him. And there is withal manifested that glorious holiness and purity in God, that inviolable righteousness, that omnipotent power, which formerly were never seriously thought upon; now these are represented to the life before a sinner • and to close up all, there is a manifestation of the grace and goodness of God in Ch • ist, which di • covers a way o • salvation, and delivery • rom • in and wrath; and this perfumeth • nd ref • esheth all the faculties of the soul. Thu • the soul is in a part conformed to that original light, when a beam is sent from it, and hath pie • ced into the heart, and scattered the darkness, that did alienat the minds of men f • om God. But it i • not only an illumination of th • fore-face, • nd outer-side of the soul, not only a conviction of the judgment in these things, but by virtue of that divine heat that is transmitted with the light of the Gospel, the soul is purified and cleansed from it • g • osser nature, and so i • made transparent, that the light may shine into the very inwards of the he • t; and this is th • special point of c • nformity to God, to have our souls purged from the da • kness of sinful, earthly, and muddy • ffections, to have them purified by the light of God, from all the works and lust • of da • knesse, and the shining beauty of holy • ffections and inclinations, to succeed and fill up the vacant room. If knowledge only reside in our brains, • nd send not down warm beam • to quicken and inflame the heart, then it is bar • en and unfruitful, it is cold and unprofitable. If it hover only alone in our heads, and keep a motion there, but send down no refreshing shower • to the affections, which may make us abound in good fruits, then it is like the windy clouds, • louds without rain, th • t p • sse away without any benefit to the thi • sty ground. Let us then take thi • along with u • , let the impression of this description of the Divine Majesty abide on our he • rts. God is light, and if we often ruminat, and ponder on this, I think i • will make us often to • efl • ct upon ourselves, how we are darkness • , and this will bre • d some care • ulnesse and de • ire in the soul, how to have this da • kness removed, that there may be a soul capa • le of divine illust • ation This is it that advanceth the soul to the n ••• est conformity with God, the looking often upon God, till our souls be enlightened, and our hearts purified, and this • g • in puts the soul in the nearest cap • city for t •• t blessed co •• un • on with God. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God ▪ Mat. 5.8. T • uly▪ it i • not p • ofoundness of ingine, it is not • cuten • sse and sharpness of wit, it is not pregnancy in unde • standing, or emin • ncy in parts, that will dispose the soul to this blessed vision of God, and f • ame it to a capacity of fellowship with him; no, there need • no extraordina • y part • for this, nothing but that the heart be purified from corruptions, those inward earthly qualities, that are like so many vicious and gross humou •• , filling the organ of the sight, these, pride, conceit, self-love, p • ssi • n, anger, mali • e, • nvy, s •• ife, covetousness, love of pleasures, ambition, these, I say, that possess the hearts of the most excellent natural spirits, casts a mist upon ••• ir eyes, and 〈◊〉 them to see G • d, or enjoy that delig •• in •• m, that • ome poor, weak, and igno • an • cr • ature • , who • e hearts the Lo • d hath pu • g • d •• om sin, do find in God. The • efo • e, i • any o • • ou ha • e an aim at this, to have fellowship with God, know both • or your di • ection, and you • incou • agement, that God is l ght : for your di • ection, because that must be your pattern, and if you have no study that way, to be like him in holin sse, you shall not see him. But▪ take it likewise for an encouragement, for that style carry • not only the necessity of what he must be, but it holds out likewise the foun • ain and storehouse of all our qualifications, for God is light, the original, primitive light, all must borrow of him, and that light is f • eely and impa • tially communicable to poor sinners: With thee is the fountain of life, and in thy light shall we s • e light. Let a soul that app • ehends its own da • knesse and distance from him, thus encourage itself, my light is but a beam derived f • om his light, and there is no want in him: He is a Sun of • ighteousnesse, if I shut • ot up my he • t th • ough unwillingness and unbelief, if I desi • e not to keep my sin • , but would be pu • ged from them, then that glorious light may shin • without stop and impediment in to my he • t: He is not only light in his own nature, but he is a light to us, and if he please to remove that which is interposed between him and us, it shall be day-light in our hearts again. Thus a • oul may strengthen itself to w • it on him, and by looking thus up to him, and fixing on him, we shall be enlightened, and our faces not be ashamed.

SERMON XII·

THere is nothing in which men suffers themselves to be so easily deceived, as in thi • highest concernment of Religion, in which the ete • nal interest of their • ouls lies: there is no delusion either so gross, or so universal, in any other thing, as in this thing, in regard of which, all other things are nothing. This hath overspread the world, (to speak only of that part which pretends to Ch • istianity) a strong, pertinacious, • nd blind • ancy of being in Jesus Christ, and having interest in salvation. I call it a blind and ignorant • ancy, for truly ignorance and d • rknesse is the strong • st foundation of such conceits: Papists call it the mother of devotion ; it is true, in this sense it is the mother of a man's groundless • devotion towards himself, that is, of delusion: this, together with self-love, which always hood-wink • the mind, and will not suffer • serious impartial examination of a man's self, these I say, are the • ottom of this vain persuasion, that possesseth the generality of men. Now what it wants of knowledge, it hath of willfulness, it is a conceit altogether void of reason, but it is so willful, and pertinacious, that it is almost utterly inconvincible, and so it puts souls in the most desperate fo • lo • n estate that can be imagined, it makes them, as the Apostle speaks, Ephes. 5.6. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , children of imperswasion, it is rendered commonly children of disobedience, and indeed they are joined together, they are children of disobedience, carrying the manifest characte •• of wrath upon them; yet they are withal, children of imperswasion, uncapable of any persuasion contrary to these deluding insinuations of their own minds, though they be manifest to all men to be sons of disobedience, living in rebellion against God, yet it is not possible to persuade them of it; they are as far from conviction of what they are, as reformation to what they should be. Notwithstanding if men would but give • n impartial and attentive ear to what the Apostle says here, I suppose the very frame of his argument is so convincing, that it could not but leave some impression: If anything will convince a child of imperswasion, the terms here propounded • re fittest, God is light, and in him is no darkness. Hence it follows by inavoidable consequence, as clear as the light, that no man can have fellowship with God, that walks in darkness.

Those that delude themselves in this matter, are of two kinds, the generality pretend to Christianity in general, and to an interest in salvation, but if we descend into the chief parts and members of Christianity, as holiness, fellowship with God, walking after the Spirit, and such like, these they do not so much as pretend 〈◊〉 and withal, think they have a dispensation from such strictness, and make it a sufficient plea tha • they are not such, because they never professed to be such: others again, though fewer, can pretend even to these higher points of Christianity, as communion with God, walking after the Spirit, and indeed in this they are more consonant to their profession of Christianity: But, as the Apostle saith, there may be a practical li • in it too, if we consider and compare their practice with their profession.

I would speak a word by way of preparation to you who are of the first sort, that is the very multitude of professing Christians, because you do not profess so much as others, and do not give out yourselves for the students of holiness, you think yourselves exempted from the stroke of all this soul-piercing Doctrine, you think read • lie, it is not pertinent to apply this to you, of walking contrary to profession, and so committing this gross lie, in not doing the truth. If any say I have fellowship with God, &c. And who will say that • say ye, Who will speak such a high word of himself as this? Therefore since you do not presume so high, you think you have escaped the censure that follows.

But I beseech you, consider what your professions import, and what you engage yourselves to, even by the general profession of Christianity. I know you will all say you are Christians, and hope to be saved. Now do ye understand what is included in that, if any man say, that he is a Christian, he really says that he hath fellowship with God; if any man say, he is a Christian, he says he hath fellowship with Christ, and is partaker of his Spirit; for as the Apostle, Rom. 8.9. decl • res unto you, If any have not the Spirit of Christ he is none of his ; that is, he is no Christian. For what is it, I pray you, to be a Christian? Is it not to be a new creature, formed again by the Spirit of Christ? 2 Cor. 5.17. Therefore in as far as you pretend to be Christians, and yet are not professors of holiness, and think you have a dispensation from such a walking in God, and after Christ, you fall under a twofold contradiction, and commit a twofold lie: First, between your profession and practice; then in your profession itself: your practice is directly cross to the very general profession of Christianity. But besides that, there is a contradiction in the bosom of your profession; you affirm you are Christians, and yet refuse the profession of holiness; you say ye hope for Heaven, and yet do not so much as pretend to godliness, and walking spiritually. Nay, these you disjoin in your profession, which a • e really one, without which the name of Ch • istianity is an empty, vain, and • idiculous appellation. There must be then a g • eat da • knesse of misapprehension in your minds, that you take on the name of Christians, and will not know what it impo • ts, and therefo • e in the mean time, you p • ofesse that which destroys and anulls your former profession. Now certainly, this is a g • osser lie, a flatter contradiction, then it needs much inquiry into, to find it out. It is so palpable, that I wonder that these very common and received principles of t • uth, do not •• se up within, to testify against it: For if ye do not own the profession of holiness and communion with God, what advantage have you then of Christianity? tell me, What will it se • ve you for? Can it save you? Can a bare, empty, contradicted, and blasphemed title save you? and if it do not save you, it will make your condemnation the greater. Let this then fi • st be settled in our hearts, and laid down as a principle, that the most general profession of Christianity lays an inviolable bond and obligation upon us, to all that is imported in the particular expressions of a Christians nature, walk, and society; whether we take it so or not, thus it is: to be a Christian infolds all that can be said; and if it do not import these, it is not true to its own signification, nor conformed to Ch • ists meaning. You may deprave the world as you please, and deform that holy calling so, as it may suit to your car • i • ge, but according to this woe • d, in this acceptation of it, you shall be judged: and if your Judge shall in that g • eat day lay all this great charge upon you, what will it avail you now to absolve yourselves in your imaginations, even from the very obligation itself.

Let us suppose then, that you are convicted of this, that Christianity in the most gene • all and common acceptation, is inclusive of fellowship and communion with God; and that you profess and pretend to both; then let us apply this just rule of the Apostles, to examine the truth and reality of such a profession. The rule is str • ight, and so may be a trial both of that which is straight and crooked. Rec • um sui & obliqui index : and here the application being made, there is a discovery of the falsehood and crookedness of most men's hearts; this Golden Rule of Examination, is a Rule of Proportion, so to speak, or it is founded upon the harmony that should be between profession and practice, words and deeds, and upon that, conformity should intercede between those that have communion one with another. Now apply these to the generality of Christians, and behold, there is no harmony and consent between their speaking and walking; their calling and profession, as Christians, imports communion with God, who is the pure unmixed light, and yet they declare otherwise, that themselves are in darkness of ignorance, and walk in the darkness of sin, an • so that communion must be pretended, where • there is no conformity and likeness to God intended: The result then of • ll is this, herein is the greatest lie, and most dangerous withal, committed, It is the greatest li • , because it takes in all a man's conve •• ation, which all along make • up one great unive • sal lie, a lie composed of infinite cont • arie • ies, of innumerable particul • r lies, for eve • y step, every word, and action, i • in its own nature cont • a • y to that holy profession, but all combined together, makes up a black constellation of lies; one powerful lie against the t • uth. And besides, it is not against a particular truth, but against the whole complex of Christianity. An e •• or is a lie against such a particular t • uth as it opposeth; but the tract and cou • se of an ignorant, ungodly conversation, i • one continued lie, ag • inst the whole bulk • nd body of Christianity. It is a lie d • awn the length of many weeks, months, and year • , against the whole frame of Christi • n profession: for the • e is nothing in the calling of a Christian, that i • not ret • acted, contradicted, and repro • ched by it. Oh, th • t ye could unbowel your own ways, and see what a clos • er of lies and incongruities is in them, what reproache • and calumnies these practical lies c • st upon the honor of your Christian Calling, how they tend of their own nature, to the disgracing of the truth, and the blaspheming of God's Name. T • ese things ye would find, if ye would rip up your own hearts and ways, and if you found how great that lie is, you could not but fear the danger of it; for it being no less then a denying of Jesus Christ, and a real abrenunciation of him, it puts you without the refuge of sinners, and is most likely to keep you without the blessed City, for there shall in no ways enter therein anything that defileth, or maketh a lie, Rev. 21.27. What shall then become of them whose life all along is but one continued lie.

SERMON XIII·

THat which is the sum of Religion, sincerity, and a correspondency between profession and practice, that is confirmed by reason, and much strengthened by nature itself, so that Religion, Reason, and Nature, conspire in one, to hold out the beauty and comliness of sincerity, and to put a note and character of infamy and deformity upon all hypocrisy and deceit, especially in the matters of Religion. There is nothing so contrary to Religion, as a false appearance, a show of that which is not: for Religion is a most entire and equable thing, like at 〈◊〉 harmonious in all the pa • ts of it, the same wit •• in and without, in exp • ession and action, all cor • respondent together. Now to 〈◊〉 this h •• m •• ny, and to make it up of unequal, dissimil • pa • ts, and to make our pa • t give the lie to 〈◊〉 other, the cou • se of a m • ns li • e, in igno • anc • negligence, and sin, proclaiming cont • ary to • h • profession of Christianity: this is to make Reli • gion a monst • uous thing, to deny the nature o • it, and in our imaginations to contrive an im • possible union of inconsistent things. It is a crea • ture made up of cont • adiction • , which can hav • no subsistence in the t • uth, but only in the fan • cies of deluded souls: one professing Christianity, and so by cons • quence fellowship with the original light, the Sun of Righteousness •• , and yet da • knesse of igno • ance possessing the mind, and the heart ca •• ied away in th • ways of the lusts of ignorance, and walking in that darkness, this is a monster in Christianity, one so far mi • sh • pen, that the very outward form and vi • age of it doth not remain. But I told you, reason confirms this, for what more suitable to the very natural frame and constitution of a reasonable being, then that the outward man should be the image and expression of the inward, and that they should answer one another, a • f • ce answers face in the water; that the tongue should be the interpreter of the mind, and the actions of a man's life the interpreter of his tongue. Here is that beauti • ul proportion and that pleasing harmon • , when all these, though different in their own natu • e, yet conjoin toge •• er, and make up one sweet conco • d. Now t • uly, if we t • ke upon us the profess • on of Christianity, and yet our ordinary and habitual speeches are carnal and earthly, never salted with grace, often poisoned with blasphemy • , oaths and cu • sings, and often defiled with filthy speeches, and often inte • mingled with • ep • oaches of oath • s, if our conversation be con • o • med to the course of the world, according to these lusts that hur • y away multitudes o • mankind to perdition, and look to the heart within, and behold, never any labor about the pu • i • ying of it from corruption, never any mortification of evil affections, and little or no knowledge of the t • uth, not so much as may let Christ in to the soul: this, I say, is as unreasonable and ab ••• d, as it is irreligious: it wholly perve • ts that beautiful order, makes an irreconciliable discord between all the parts in man, that neither mind, nor mouth, nor hands answer one another, nor all of them, or any of them answer that holy calling a man pretends to. Such a one pretends ordinarily the goodness of his heart towards God, but now the tongue cannot interpret the heart, it is exanctorated out of that natural office, for the ordinary current is contrary to that pretended goodness of the heart; For a good man, out of the good treasure of his heart, sendeth forth good things, but all these are either evil, or never seasoned with that spiritual goodness. Then the ways and actions of a man's life, which ought to interpret and expound his professions, these are rendered altogether incapable of that, they give no confirmation to them, but rather • mani • est contradiction; for what ar • your multiplied oaths, drunkennesses, fornication • , railings, contentions, lyings, Sabbath-profanation • ? your woeful neglect of prayer in secret, and in your families, your continuing in these evil • that ever you walked into, what are they, I say, but a manifest violation of both Religion and Reason, and a clear confirmation that ye are liars, and the truth is not in you ?

There is something even in nature to decla • e the absurdity and unnaturalness of this general discordance between men's profession and practice. Look upon all the creatures, and do they not all with one voice proclaim sincerity? Hath not every beast, and every bird its own outward shape, outward gesture, and voice, and external workings, which declare the inward nature of it? And is not this a Staple-known rule in nature, that everything is known by the effects of it? A Lion by his roaring, • Lark by its singing, a Horse by his neighing▪ and • n Ox by his lowing, &c. All these speak forth nothing but sincerity, in so much, that if these marks • nd signs should be confounded, • nd beasts use them indifferently, all human knowledge should suddenly fall to nothing, this would put such a confusion, both in th • woe • ld and mankind. O, how doth this condemn th • s • who pretend to thi • high Calling of Christianity? and yet there is no way left to discern them by, nothing appearing in them, and ordinarily proceeding from them, which may give a signification of the inward truth of their fellowship with God; but rather that which gives a demonstration of the vanity of the pretention. Ther • • e • e no consent in nature, if tha • were 〈◊〉 ▪ neither is there any harmonious agreement in Religion, where thi • proportion and correspondence is not kept in a m • n • life. The very Heathens did not account them Philosophers, but those that expressed their Doctrines in woe • k • , 〈◊〉 well as words; and truly, the liveliest image of truth is in practice: They commended them that were spa • ing in words, and abundant in deeds: who had short speeches, but long and large discou • ses in their life; and what i • this, but that which our Savior everywhere, from his own example, inculcat • upon us. These word • are emph • tick, To do the truth, to walk in the light, to do his word, to believe with the heart, and such like: all which declare, that in so far we have the truth, and have fello • ship with the light, as it is impressed in the affection, and expressed again in the convers • tion; for the infinite truth, and the infinite life, is one, and the original light, and primitive life and love, is on • too, and whoever truly receive • the truth and light, as it is, cannot but receive him, as the living truth, and life-giving light, and so be heated and wa • med inwa • dly by his beams, which will certainly cau • e some stirring and woe • king without: For as much as in n • ture, heat is always woe • king, so is the fi • e of love kindled in the heart, inces • ant that way▪ f • ith working by love ; fo • action is the very life of life, that which both shows it, and preserves it.

Now what shall we say, to ca •• y these things home to your hearts? Where shall convincing words be had which may break the hardness of your hearts? It is strange that you are in such a deep dream of delusio • , that nothing can awake you out of it? And how little is it that you have to please yourselves into? Some external p • iviledges, the Temple of the Lord, his Covenant, and the seals of it, your ordinary bearing the Word, and such like: But are there not many thing • in your hearts and ways, that act the most contradictory lie to these that can be? For wherefore do we thus meet together? Do ye know an end, or propose any? I scarce believe it of the most part. We come out of custom, and m • ny as by constraint, and with little or no previous consideration of the great end of this work; and when ye go forth, what fruit appears? Your ordinary, carnal, and civil discourses succeed; and who is it either bows his knee to pray for the divine blessing, or entertains that holy word either in his own meditation, or speaks of it to the edification of others? Are you not, the most part of you, that ground of which Christ speaks, that lies in the way-side, and eve • y thing comes and takes the seed up? Do ye either listen and apply your hearts to a presentnesse in hearing? Or is there anymore account of it, then a sound in the ear, or any footstep or imp • ession left in the heart, more then of the flight of a bird in the air? And alas! how many souls are choked and stifled? the truth suffocated in the very sp • inging, by the thorns of the cares of this world, and the throng and importunity of businesses, and earthly desires. How many good motions come to no m • turity by this means? How few of you use to pray in secret, and to dedicat a time for reti • ement from the world, and enjoyment of God? Nay, you think you are not called to it, and if any be induced to it, and to public woe • ship in their families, yet all the day over is but a flat contr • diction to that: What earthly-mindedness? What unholiness of affection? What impu • ity of conversation? What one lust is subdued? What one sin mortified? Who increaseth more in knowledge of the truth, or in love of God? Is it not midnight with most part of you? O, the darkness of the ignorance of your mind • , by which you know not that Religion you profess, more then Tu • ks who do pe • secute it. And what are the ways ye walk into? Are they not such ways, as will not come to the light, and hate the light, because it reproves them ? Joh. 3.19▪ 20. and 11.9, 10. Are they not such, in whic • men stumble, though they seem to walk easily and plainly into them? Yet, O that everlasting stumble that is at the end of them! when you shall fall out of one darkness of sin and delus • on, into an utter, extreme, eternal da • knesse of destruction and damnation. O, that • ea •• ul dungeon, and pit of darkness, you post into • There • ore, i • you love your own souls, be warned, 〈◊〉 beseech you be warned to flee from that •• ter darkness, be awaked out of your deceiving dreams, and deluding, sel • -flattering imag ••••• on • , and Christ shall give you light. The di ••• very of that gross da • knesse you walked into, in which you did not see whither you w • nt▪ I say, the clear discerning of what it is, and whither i • leads, is the fi •• t opening of that Light, the • ir • t visit of that Morning Star, that brings salvation.

If ye will not be convinced o • that • nfinit d • nge • you are into, yet ye ar • not the • urther • rom • t. He that walketh in darkness lie • h, &c. Hi • strong confidence and persuasion hath • lie, • contradiction in the bosom o • it, and that will n • ver bottom any true happiness. It is a lie acted by the hand, the • oot, and • ll the member • ▪ a lie • g • inst • he holy true • h and Word o • God, and the very reproach o • the Name of Christ▪ 〈◊〉 lie against yourselves, and your own pro • ess • on • , a soul-murthering lie, as well as a Christ • denyin •• lie: and this lie (as a holy man saith) hath filled Houses, Cities, Families, Countries, it hath ev •• overspred the whole Nation, and filled all with darkness, horror, con • usion, trouble and anguish, once being a holy Nation by profession of a Covenant with God, and our open, m • ni • est▪ universal retraction of that, by an unholy, ungodly, and wicked conversation. This h • th b • ought the sword against a hypocritical Nation, and this will bring that far greater, incomparably more intolerable day of wrath upon the children of disobedience. Therefore let me exhort all of you, in the Name of the Lord, as ye desire to be admitted to that eternally blessed society, within the holy City, and not to be excluded among these, who commit abomination, and make a lie, that ye would henceforth impose this necessity upon yourselves, or know that it is laid upon you by God, to labor to know the will and truth of God, that you may see that light that shi • es in the Gospel, and not only to receive it in your minds, but in your hearts by love, that so you may endeavor in all sincerity, the doing of that truth, the conscionable practicing of what you know. And this, as it is a great point of conformity to the light, so it will make you capable of more light from God; • or he delights to show his liberality where he hath any acceptance. Be not satisfied, O! be not sat • sfied with knowing these truths, and discoursing upon them, but make them • urther your own, by impressing them deeply in your hearts, and expressing them plainly in your ways. This is pure Religion and undefiled, J • m. 1.27. And is not this to know me, saith • he Lord, Jer. 22.16. Practice is real knowled • e, because it is living knowledge, it i • the ve • y life and soul o • Ch • istianity, when there needs no more but the intimation of hi • will to c • r • y the whole man: T • is is that we would all aspire unto, and not satisfy ourselves in our poor attainments below this.

SERMON XIV·

ARt is the imitation of Nature, and true Religion is a divine Art, that consists in the imitation of God himself, the Author of Nature. Therefore it is a more high and transcendent thing, of a sublimer nature, then all the Arts and Sciences among men; those reach but to some resemblance of the wisdom of God, expressed in his works, but this aspires to an imitation of himself in holiness, which is the glory of his N • me, and so to a fellowship with himself. Therefore there is nothing hath so high a pattern, or sublime an end, God himself, who is infinitely above all, i • the pattern, & socie • y with God, i • 〈◊〉 end o • i • : and so it cannot choice, but where Religion makes an • olid impression on a soul, it 〈◊〉 ex • eedingly raise and advance it to the most he • oi • k and noble resolutions that it is capable o • , in re • pect o • which elevation of the • oul afte • God, the highest project • , the greatest aspirings, and the most elevating de • igns of men, a • e nothing but low, base, and wretched, having nothing of true greatness of mind in them, but running in an earthly and ••• did channel, infinitely below the poo • e • t soul, that is lifted up to God.

Since we have then so high a pattern as God, becau • e he is infini •• y • emoved from us in his own natu • e, we have him exp • essed to us under the name and notion of light, which makes all things manifest. Not only as dwelling in inacc • ssi • le l • ght, that is, in his own incomprehens •• e, ine •• able essence▪ even before this light wa • created, for he is in the light, and was in the light, when there was no Sun to give light, because he was in hi • self environed (so to speak) • i • h the infinite light and splendor of his own understanding, and beauty of his own holiness, and so dwelling in an all-fullness, and self-sufficiency of blessedness. Not only is he thus in the light, bu • he is a light to poor sinners, the most communicative being, that ceaseth not continually to send • orth streamings of that light and life into dark and dead souls: and therefore he is not only light in himself, but a Sun of Righteousness, m • st beneficial in hi • influences, most impartial and f • ee in his illumination, and so he is often called, my light, and my salvation, our light, a light to me, Psal. 27.1. Micah 7.8. Isai. 42.6▪ 7. Now, it is this emission of light from him, that fi • st drives away that gross darkness that is over • oul • , for till then, in the darkness all was hid and covered, nothing seen, neither ourselves▪ nor God, neither the temper of our hearts, nor the course of our w •• es, nor the end they lead to. But it is the breaking in of a beam of that Sun of Righteousness, that maketh any such d • scovery; as mo • es a • e not seen till the Sun shine, though the house be full of them; in da • knesse there is nothing but confusion and disorder▪ and light only makes that disorder visible to the soul, to the affecting of the he • t. Now when once the soul hath received that light, there is a desire kindled in the heart after more of it, as when the eye hath once perceived the sweetness • and pleasantness of the light, it opens itself, and exposeth itself to a • uller reception of more: and so the soul that is onc • thus happily prevented by the fi • st salutation, and visit of that day-sp • ing from on high, while he was sitting in darkness, and in the sh • dow of death, Luk. 1.78, 79. afterward, follows after that light, and desires nothing more, then to be imbosomed with it: That tender preventing mercy, so draw • the heart after it, that it can never be at perfect rest, t • ll the night be wholly spent, and all the shadows of it removed, and the Sun clearly up above the Horizon, and that is the day of that clear vision of God's face. But in the mean time, this is the great ambition and endeavor of such an one, to walk in that light, and this is the very entertainment of that fellowship with God; he is already in the light, that is to say, he is translated from a state of darkness to light, and endowed with the living and saving knowledge of God in Jesus Christ, this is his state; he is in the l • ght, one enlightened from above, having his eye • opened to discover the mystery of the iniquity of his own heart, and to see far off, to that bottomless pit of misery, which his way would lead him to; one who hath by this divine illustration discovered eternal things, and seen things not seen, and withal gotten some knowledge of salvation, by the remission of sins. Now such an one, being thus in the light▪ his duty is, and his infinite dignity besides, to wa • k in that light, that i • , to lead all his life under that eternal light of God, which shines in the Word, and to bring it all forth in his view; to make our whole course a progressive motion towards Heaven; wherein that glorious light shines most gloriously. It is almost all one with that of Paul's, to have our conversation in Heaven ; for, to walk in the light, it is a kind of elevation of our actions, a raising them up to Heaven, to that pure light, for after that, and toward that, is the souls design.

Now to exp • esse to you in what it co •• ists, I desi • e not to b •• nch it forth in many particula • s, 〈◊〉 • athe • dist • act the mind, then aff • ct the he • t; only you may know, it c • nsi ••• especial • into the 〈◊〉 re • i • ements • f the • oul to G • d, an • the ou • ward •• i • ing of that light, in our conve •• ation to oth ••• . These are the chief pa • ts o • it, b ••• owin • , from hi • light, and then 〈◊〉 and im ••• ting 〈◊〉 to other • , by a holy conve • sati • n. T • u •• , we must needs conceive that t • e most lively and •• mixed par •• king of the ligbt of G • d, 〈◊〉 the sweetest • o • iety with 〈◊〉 , is in the sec • et withd •• wings of the soul f • om the world, and reposes up • n G • d, though • e little intervals, and, as it we • e, 〈◊〉 hour • of fellowship with God, • hat are taken f • om the multitude and 〈◊〉 of our busin • sse▪ these a • e the • itte •• oppo • tunities of the transforming the soul into hi • similitude, and of purifying it as he is pure, of fi • ling it with divine light and love; f • r then the heart lies, as it we • e perpendicularly under his beams, and is opened be • o • e him, to give admission and ent • y to this saving, t • an • fo • ming light; and it i • the shining of God's countenance then upon the so • l, that d • aws it most toward • conformity with him, and leaves an impression of light • nd love upon the soul Oh, that you were mo • e acquainted with this, this apric • tion, so to speak, that i • , s • nning your selve • , and warming in t • e Sun, the exposing and opening of your he • t • f • eq • ently in s ••• et, before this Sun of Righ • eou ••• sse. N • w, this, if you were acquaint with it, would make your light so to shine before men, as your He • venly Father may be glor • fied, M •• 5.16. a • d that is the walking in th •• light of God. This makes a Christian to come fo • th, as Moses from the Mount, with his • ace shining; he co • es out f •• m the retired acc • sses to G • d, wi • h a lust • e upon hi • carriage, that may bea • tifie the Gospel▪ and (as one saith w • ll) with the Tab • e • of the Law in both his hand • , w • itten in hi • p • actice, the light of the Law shining in his li • e; and truly this is the Ch • istians 〈◊〉 in his low • r • phere, w • e • ein he ca •• ies ab • ut that light that is de • ived f • om the hig • er light, in all his con • erse with men, it shine • from him to the glorifying of him that i • the F • there • f lights, walking • igh • e • usly and sobe • lie, without offen • e, doing goo • to all, • spe • ially the child • en of light, extending ••• ces of love and benevo • lence to eve • y one, forbea • ing and forgiving offense • , not partaking with other men's sin • , and fin • lie, declaring in woe • d and deed, that we have communion with the fountain of pure light, and one day expect to be translated out of this lower Or • , whe • e we are so far distant from him, and fixed in the highest of all; where we may h • ve the immediate, full, uninterrupted, and clearest aspect of his countenance, which shall then make the desc • iption that is here given of God, communicable to us, that, as he is light, and in him is no darkness, so we being fully and perfectly shined upon by him, may be light likewise, without any mixtu • e o • d •• knesse, as here it is not.

Now, my beloved in the Lord, this is that we are called unto, to walk thus in the light, in the light of obedience and sanctification, and th • t is the great thing ye would lea • n to aspi • e unto, rather then to enjoy the light of consolation: Indeed I conceive, that which maketh many of u • walk in darkness, as i • spoken in Isa. 50.10. that is, without come • ort, peace, and joy, and without clear disce • ning our interest in God, i • , because we walk in another da • knesse, that is, of sin and distance from God; the one da • knesse is introductive of the other, nay, they cannot be long without other, the da • k cloud of bold sinning, and ca • elesse unci • cumspect walking, that cannot but eclip • e the light of consolation, and fill the soul with some ho • rour, anguish, and confusi • n. Therefore, if ye would walk in the light of joy and comfort, O, take heed nothing be interposed between God and your souls: you must likewise walk in the light of his Law, which is, as a lamp to the feet, and this light, as the ray, begets that light of comfort, as the splendor, which is the second light of the Sun: I know i • is a disconsolat and sad condition to walk without the light of the knowledge of our interest in God ; but I would earnestly recommend unto you two things to support you, and help you in that; one is, that you do not give over the chief point of this society with God, that is, walking in the light of his Law and Commandments, but that you do th • more se • iously add • esse to the one, that you want the other. C •• tainly, it ought to be no hindrance of your obedience, and patient continuing in obedience, that you know not your own interest, and that his countenance shines not so upon you; you know that sweet • esolution, I will wait upon the Lord who hides his face, &c. Isai. 8.17. Mic. 7.7. and his own command, Isai. 50.10. Hos. 12.6. Ye that walk in such a darkness, neve • thelesse, stay upon God. Truly there could be no g • eater evidence of thy interest, then thi • , to give patient attendance upon him in the ways of obedience, till he shine forth; this would in due time bring forth thy righteousness as the light, if we would not subtract and withdraw ourselves from under the light, because it is presently over-clouded. Then, moreover you would know, that all this while that your interest in Christ lies dark, and under cloud, you should then be most in the applic • tion of that blood to your souls, most in trusting and staying upon the Name of God, and his absolute promises. Suppose thou do not as yet know that he is thine, yet dost thou not know that he is made thine by believing in him? and therefore while it is inevident that it is already, thou ought so much the more to labor, that what is not, may be. Now, if thou canst not apply him to thy soul, as thine own possessio • , yet thou mayest, and so much the more oug • test to apply thy soul to him, an • re • ign and offer thyself to him, as willing to be his posse • sion, to be his, and no more thine own: in a word, when thine own expe • imental feeling of the woe • k of God's Spirit fails within thee, th • n so much the more in • ist, and dwell upon the meditation and belies o • the gene • all p • omi • es, which a • e the p • oper object of faith, and not 〈…〉 : as our own inte • est is • he proper obj • ct o • 〈◊〉 , and not of saith Therefo • e the de • ect in the one, need • not re • ound upon the other. To • um up all in one word, i • thou thinkest that thou hast not y • t believed in Christ, and 〈◊〉 no inte • est in him, I will not dispute with thee, to pe • swade t • ro • hat thou art mistaken, for all thi • debate would h • in the 〈◊〉 , bec • use thou a • t in d • rkness; but one th •• g I would s • y unto thee, labor to do that whic • th • u would do, which thou must do, if • uc • a c •• e were granted; suppose it were so, that thou had no in • e • est in him, what would thou do then? I am sure th •• would say, I would labo •• by any 〈◊〉 to have him mine ; why then, thou knows that cannot be before believing, and • eceiving him 〈◊〉 hi • promises, and not at all, but by believing. Therefore, since that this is it you must at length tu • n unto, suppose the case were decided, why do ye not presently • at • er without more wea • ying yourselves, in the greatness of your way, tu • n in hither, as to a place of refuge, without further disputing in the business, • nd so by believing in Christ, and waiting upon him in his ways, you shall put that o • t of q • e •• ion, w • ich debating would make an end • e •• qu • s • ion. The Lord make you wi • e to know the t • ing • that belongs to your peace.

SERMON XV·

CAn two walk together except they be agreed? A • darkness cannot have fellowship with lig •• , till it be changed into some con • o • mity to t • e light, even • o t • ere can neither be any fellowship in walking, nor con • ormity in nature, between God and u • , who are enemies to him by n •• ure, unless there be some agreement and reconcilia • ion os the difference. Now here is that which maketh the atonement, The blood of Jesus his Son • leanseth us from all sin. This is it that takes away the difference between God 〈◊〉 men, and makes reconciliation for us; This blood hath qu • nched • he fl • me of indignation and w • ath kindled in Heaven against us. And this alone can quench and extinguish the flames and • u • ies of a tormented soul, that is burnt up with the app • ehension of his anger: All other things thou can • pply, or cast upon them, will be as oil to increase them, whether it be to cool thyself in the shadows of the worlds delights, such a poor • hi • t as the rich glutton would have taken in hell; those drops of cold water that thou can dis • ill out of the c • eature, will never give any solid ease to thy conscience; thou may abate the • ury of it, or put it off for a season, thou who is afraid of hell and wrath, may procure so • e short vacancy from those terrors, by turning to the world: but certainly they will recurr • gain, and break out in a g • eater fire, like a fever that is not diminished, but increased by much drinking cold water: or if thou go about to refresh thyself, and sati • fie thy challenges by thy own attainments in Religion, and by reflection upon thy own heart and ways, finding something in thy esteem, that may counterbalance thy evils, and so give thee some confidence of God's avour, these, I say, are but deceitful things, and will never either quench the displeasure of God for thy si • s, but rather add • ewel to it, because thou justifies thyself, which is an abomination before him; nor yet will it totally extinguish and put to silence the clamours of thy conscience, but that some day thou shall be spoiled of all that sels-confidence, and sel • -defense, and find thy sel • so much the more displeasing to God, that thou did please thyself, and undertook to pacify him. Therefore, my beloved, let me above all things recommend this unto you, as the prime • oundation of all Religion, upon which all our peace with God, and pardon of sin, and fellowship with God must be built, that the blood of Jesus Christ be applied unto your consciences by believing, and that first of all, upon the discovery of your enmity with God, and infinite distance from him, you apply your hearts unto this blood, which is the atonement, to the reconciling sacrifice, which alone hath ve • tue and power with God. Do not imagine that any peace can be without this; would ye walk with God, which is a •• dg • of ag • eement • would ye have • ellowship with God, which i • • •• uit of • econciliation? would ye have pardon o • sins, and the pa • ticular knowledge of it, whi • h is the greatest ef • ect of • avour? and all this, without and before application of Christ who is our peace, in whom the Father only is well pleased ; will you seek these, and yet di • pu • e this point of believing, as if it we • e possible to attain these without the sp • inkling of that blood on the he • t, which indeed clean • eth it f • om an evil accusing conscience▪ If you desire to walk in the light, as he is in the light, why wea • y ye yourselves in by-way • ? Why take ye such a comp • sse o • endless and • ruitlesse agitation, and pe • plexity of mind? and will not rather come straight way at it, by the door of Jesus • Christ, • o • he is the new and living way, into which you must enter, if ye would walk in the light; and the wounds of his side, out of which this blood gushed, these open you a way of access to him, because he was pierced for us. That st • eam of blood, i • ye come to it, and follow it all along, it will certainly carry you to the Sea of light and love, where you may have fellowship with God. And O, How much comfort is in it, that there is such a stream running all the way of our walking with God ? all the way of our fellowship, that fountain of Christ's blood runs not d • y, but •• ns along with the believer, for the cleansing of his after pollution • ▪ of • is defilements, even in the very light itself. This then, as it is the fi • st foundation of peace and communion with God, so it is the pe • petual assurance and confirmation of it, that which first gives boldness, and that alone which still c • nt • new • boldness in it. It is the fi • st ground, and the constant warrand and secu • ity of it, without which it would be as soon dissolved as made. If that blood did not run along all this way, to w • sh all his steps, if the way of light and fellowship with God, were not watered, and re •• eshed with the continual current of this blood, certainly none could walk in it without being consumed. The • efore it is, that the mercy of God and ric • es of grace in Christ, hath provided this blo • d for u • , both to cleanse the sin • of i • norance, before • elieving, and the sin • o • light, after believing, t • at a poor sinner may constantly go on his w •• , and not be broken off • rom God, by his infirmity • and e • capes in the way.

You • ee then the Gospel • uns in these two golden stream • , pardon of sin, and purity of walking ; they run undividedly, all along in one channel, yet without confusion one with another, as it is reported of some great Rivers, that run together between the same Banks, and yet retains distinct color • and natures all the way, till they part. But these streams that glad the City of God, never part one from another; the cleansing blood, an • the pu • ifying light, 〈◊〉 a • e 〈◊〉 entire a • d pe • fect • um of the Gospel; pu • ification • rom sin, the guilt of 〈◊〉 , and the pu • ity of • alking in the light, flowing from that, makes up the • ull c • m • l • xion o • Chr ••• ianity; w • ich are • o nearly conjoined to • ethe • , that i • they be divided, they cease to be, and cannot any of them subsist, save in men's deluded imagination. The end o • •• shing in the blood of Christ i • , that we may co • e to this light, and have fellowship with it; for the dar • nesse of hell, the utter da • kness of the curse of God, which overspreads the unbelieving soul, and eclipses all the light o • God's countenance from him, that da • k and thick cloud of guiltiness, that heap of unrenewed conversation, this, I say, must be removed by the cleansing of the blood of Christ, and then the soul is admitted to enjoy that light, and walk into it. And it is removed chiefly for this end, that there may be no impediment in the way of this fellowship; this blood cleanseth, that you being cleansed, may hence • orth walk in purity; and there is no pu • ity like that of the light of God's countenance, and commands: and so you are washed in the blood of Christ, that you may walk in the light of God, and take heed that you defile not your garments again. But if so be, (and certainly it will be, considering our weakness • ) that you defile yourselves again, like soolish children, who after they have washed, run to the puddle again, forget • ing that th • y were cleansed; if either you • daily infi • mities tro • ble, or some grosser pollution defile and waste you • cons • ience, know th • t this blood • uns all along in the same channel of your obligation to holy walking, and it is as sufficient now as ever, to cleanse you from all sin, from sins of daily incursion, and sins of a grosser nature, there is no exception in that blood, let there be none in your application to i • , and apprehension of it. Now, this is not to give boldness to any man to sin, or continue in sin, because of the lengthened use, and continued virtue and efficacy of the blood of Christ ; for if any man draw such a result f • om it, and improve it to the advantage of his flesh, he declare • himself to have no portion in it, never to have been w • shed by it; for what soul can in sobriety look upon that blood shed by the Son of God, to take away the sins of the worl • , and find an emboldning to sin from that view? Who can wash and clea •• e here, and presently think of defilement, but with indignation?

I spe • k these things the rather, because there is a twofold misapprehension of the Gospel among Christians, and on both hands much darkness • nd stumbling is occasioned. We have poor narrow spirits, and do not take entire truth in its full comprehension, and so we are as unfit and unequal discerners of the Gospel, and receivers of it, as he that would judge of a sentence by one word, of a book by one page, of a harmony by one note, and of the world by one parcel of it. The beauty and harmony of things consists in their entire union; and though there should appear many discrepancies, • nd unpleasant discords in several parts, yet all united together, make up a pleasant consort. Now this is our childish foolishness, that we look upon the Gospel only by halfs, and this being alone seen, begets misapprehensions and mistakes in our minds; for ordinarily we supply that which we see not with some fancy of our own. When the blood of Jesus Christ is holden out in its full virtue, in the large extent of its efficacy, to cleanse all sin, and to make peace with God, and wipe away all transgressions, as if they h • d never been; the generality of you never apprehending much your own desperate condition, nor conceiving an absolute necessity of a change, you think this is all that is in the Gospel, and begin to flatter yourselves, and bless yourselves, though you live in the imaginations of your own hearts, and never apprehends the absolute need, and inevitable sequel of walking in purity aster pardon. And alas, there is something of this sometimes overtakes the he • rts of true believers, in the slight and overly consideration of the mercy of God, •• d blood of Christ : you do not lay the constr • int upon your hearts to • holy conversation. I say, it is not because you apprehend that blood, that you take more liberty to the flesh, but rather because you too slightly and superf • cially consider it, and that but the one half of it, without p • e • cing into the p • oper end of that clean • ing, which i • , that we may walk in p •• ity.

But on the other hand, some believin • souls, having their desi • es inla • ged afte • more • oline • s and confo • mity to God, and app • ehen • ing not only the necessity of it, but the beauty and comliness of it, yet finding withal, how infinitely short they come, and how o •• their pu • po • es are broken and disappointed, and them • elves plunged in the mi • e of their own filthiness, this doth discourage them, and dri • e • them to such a despondency, and dejection of spirit, that • hey a • e like to give over the way of holiness as de • pe • at. Now my beloved, for you who look upon the Gospel by a parcel, and such a parcel as enjoins much upon you, I would ea • nestly beseech, to open and enlarge your he • ts to receive the full body of the truth, to look upon th •• cleansing blood, as well as that pure light; to consider the perpetual use of the one; until you have fully attained the other. Know that the fo •• tai • is kept open, and not shut, not only to admit you to come at fi • st, but to give ready access in all after-defilements, and there is no woe • d more comprehensive then this here, it cleanseth from all sin. All thy exceptions, doubts, and difficulties, are about some particular sin • , and circumstances; thy debates runs upon some exception, but here is an universal comprehensive word, that excludes all exception; no kind of sin, either for quality, or degree, or circumstance, is too great for this blood; and therefore as you have reason to be humbled under your • a • lings, so there is no reason to be discouraged, but rather to reviv • your spirits and vigor again, in the study of this walking in the light, knowing that one day we shall be in the light, • s he is in it. Nay, take this along with you, as your strength, and encouragement to your duty, as the greatest provocation to mor • purity, that there is so constant readiness of pardon i • that blood.

SERMON XVI·

THe night is far spent, the day is at hand, Rom. 13.12. This • i • e is but as night, even to the godly: there is some light in it, some starlight, but it is mixed with much darkness of ignorance and sin; and so it will be, till the Sun arise, and the morning of their translation to Heaven come. But though it be called night in one sense, in regard of that perfect, glorious▪ perpetual day in Heaven: yet they are called the children of light, and of the day, and are said to walk in the light, and are exhorted to walk honestly as in the day ▪ because though there be a mixture of d •• knesse in them, of weakness in their judgment • , and impuri • y in their affections, yet they are na • ad maj ••• , born to greater things, and aspiring to that pe • fect day: the • e i • so much light, as to disce • n these night-monster • , their own cor • uption • , and Satan's temptation • , to fight continually against them; they are about this noble woe • k, the pu • i • ying themselves from sin and da • knesse: so that they lie in the middle, between the light of Angels • nd g ••• ified Spirit • , that hath no darkness in it; an • the midnight of the rest of the world, who a • e b • ried in da • knesse and wickedness, and lie intom • ed in it, a • the woe • d is, 1 John. 5.19. The who • e world 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 lieth in wickedness, but we kn • w that we are of God : Therefore the Apostle subjoins here very seasonably a caution, or correction of that which wa • spoken, about the walking in the light, and fellowship with God, which word • sound out some perfection, and to our self flat • ing mind • , might possibly suggest some too high opinion of ourselves. If we, even we th • t have fellowship with God, even I the Apostle, and you b • lievin • Ch • istians, if we say, we have no sin, no darkness in us, we do but deceive our s • l • es, and deny the truth. But who will say that I have no sin? Solomon gives a challenge to all the world. Pro. 20▪9. Who can say, I have made my h • art clean, I am pure from my sin? And i • deed, the • e is no man so far a st • anger to himself, but if he in sobriety and calmness retire into his own heart, the very evidence of the impurity of • t, will extort this confession from him. As it useth to be said of an Atheist, he feels that Divine Majesty, within in his secret though • s and conscience, which he denieth with his mouth, and he is often forced to tremble at the remembrance of him whom he will not confess; so if there be any so far bewitched and enchanted into so gross and impudent a delusion, as to assert his own perfection, and vacancy from sin, and freedom from obligation to any divine command; (as this time is fruitful of such monsters) yet I dare be bold to say, that in the secret and quiet reflections on themselves, they find that which they will not confess: Inwardly they feel what outwardly they deny, and cannot but some time or other be filled with horror and anguish in their consciences, by that inwardly witnessing and checking principle, when God shall give it liberty to exe • ce its power over them, The end of such will be, as of professed Atheist • , they pretend the securest contempt, • nd fearlessest misregard of God, but then, when he awakes to judgment, or declares himself in something extraordinary, they are subject to the most panic fears and terrors, because then, there is a party armed within against them, which they had disarmed in security, and kept in chains. So, whensoever such men, of such high pretensions, and sublime professions, who love to speak no • hing but mysteries, and presume to such glo • iou • • i • cove • ies of new lights, of spiritual myste • ies, when these, I say, • ave flattered themselves 〈◊〉 a season, in the monstrous, exorbitant conceit of their own pe • fection, and immunity from 〈◊〉 ; and, it may be, deceived some others too, when they have lived s • me time in this golden d • eam of innocence, the time will come, either when the mighty hand of God is on them here▪ or when they must enter eternity, that they shall awake, and find all their iniquities in • attel array, mustered by the Lord of hosts, in their con • cience against themselves; and then they shall be the • a • est ex • mples of fear, terror, and unbelief, who p • etended to the greatest confidence, clea • nesse, and innocence. My beloved, let us establish this as an infallible rule, to discern the spirits by, and to know what Religion is, if it tend to glorify G • d, and • base man, to make him more humble, as well as holy, if it give the t • ue and perfect discovery of God to man, and of man to himself, that is true Religion and undefiled. But away with these sublime speculations, these winged and airy mysteries, those pretensions to high discoveries, and new light • , i • the • do not increase that good old light of humble walking with thy God ▪ &c. if they tend to the loosing of the obligation of divine command • off thee; if they ravish man so high, that he seeth not himself anymore to be a poor miserable and darkened creature. Certainly, that is no fellowship with the pure light, which is not continually the discovery and further man • festation o • more sin and darkness in us. For, what is a man's light in the da • k night of this li • e? but the clearer • ight of that darkness that is in man; and his holiness, what is it? but the abhorring of himself for that. It is true, something • urther is attained then the knowing of this, but it is always so far short of that original pattern, that the best way of exp • essing our conformity to it, is by how much we apprehend our distance • nd difformity from it.

But, my beloved, this is not all that is here meant, nor must we take it so grossly, as if this did only check the open professors of a sinless, spotless sanctity. Nay certainly, there is another way of saying this, then by the tongue, and many other ways of self-deceiving, then that gross one, many more universal and more dangerous, because less discernible. There is something of this, that even true believers may fall into, and there is something of it more common to the generality of professed Christians.

Among believers in Christ, there is much difference in self-judging; extreme cont • arieties, both between diverse persons, and in one and the same, at diverse times. You know that some are kept in the open view of their own sins and infirmities, and while they aim at holiness, they are wholly disabled to that worthy endeavor, by their discouragements, arising from the apprehension of their own weakness, and infinite shortcoming. Now to elevat and strengthen such • pirits, that word was seasonably cast in, and the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. For i • properly belongs to the comfort of such fainting • oul • , and it is all one as if he had said, up, and be doing, and the blood of Christ shall clean • e your evil doings. He goeth not about to persw • de them to have better thoughts of themselves, or lower apprehensions of their sins, but only to have higher and more suitable thoughts of Christ, and the virtue of his blood. And thi • is the only cure, not to abate from that low esteem of ourselves, but to add to the esteem▪ and grow in the lively apprehension of Christ. I would not counsel you to think your sel • e • better, but to think better of him, that all your confidence may a • ise from him.

Now there are others, and it may be, that same pe • son at another time, (for the • ind of temptation winds about, and is sometimes in one corner, sometimes in another; our adve •• ary useth many stratagems, and will seem to flee before us, in yielding us the victory over our unbelief, that he may in his flight retu • n, and throw some other dart upon us unawares;) when they have attained any • e • vency of desire • , and hight of design after holiness, and walking with God, and thi • i • seconded with any lively endeavors, and this confirmed and st • engthned with these presences of God, a • d accesses into the soul, that fill it with some sweetness; then, I say, they are ready to app • ehend too highly of themselves, as if they had a • tained, and to look below upon others with some disdain, then the • e is not that p • esent discov • ry of themselves, that may intermingle humble mourning with it, but a kind of unequal measuring their attainments by their desi • es, which in all true Ch • istians are exceedingly mounted above themselves. Now indeed, this is in effect, and really to say, we have no sin. He • ein is a delusion, a self-deceiving fancy, that begets too much self-pleasing. Let us know where our stance is, infinitely below either our duty, or our desi • e, and re-mind this often, that we may not be in haza • d to be drunk with self-love, and self-deceit in this particular. Besides, are there not many Ch • istian • , that ha • ing been once illuminated, and had some serious exercises in their souls, both of sorrow for sin, and fear of wrath, and comfort by the Gospel, and being accustomed to some discharge of religious duties in private and public, they sit down here, and hath not mind of further progress; they think if they keep that stance they are well, and so have few designs or endeavors after more communion with God, or puri • ication from sin. Now this makes them degenerate to fo • mality, they wither and become ba •• en, and are exposed by this to many temptations, which overcome them. But, my beloved, is not this really and indeed to say, we have no sin? Do not your walking, and the postu • e of your spirits import so much, as if you h • d no sin to wrestle with, no more holiness to aspire unto, as if you had no further race to run to obtain the Crown. Do not deceive yourselves, by thinking it sufficient to have so much honesty and grace, as in your opinion may put you over the black line of irregeneration, as if ye would seek no more then i • precisely necessary for salvation? Truly, if ye be so minded, you give a miserable hint, that you are not yet translated from the black side of darkness. I do not say that all such are unconverted, but if you continue thus, without stiring up yourselves to a daily conversion and r • novation, ye do too much to blot out the evidence of your conversion, and at length it may prove to some a self-destroying deceit, when they shall find themselves not past over that line that passeth betw • en Heaven and hell, which th • y were studying to find out only, that they might pass so far over it, as might keep their soul and hell asunder, without earnest desires of advancement towards Heaven in conformity to God. Now for the generality of professed Christians, though there be none hath that general confession of sin oftener and more readily in their mouths, yet, I suppose, it is easy to demonstrate that there is much of this self-de • eight in them▪ which declares that the truth is not in them. You know both God and man constructs of men by their w • yes, not by their words; and the Lord may interpret your hearts by their disposition, and raise a collection 〈◊〉 A • heism out of all together▪ • he fool hath said in his heart, &c. Even so say I, many p • etended Christians say in their heart, We have no sin. How prove ye that? I seek nothing else to prove it, then your own ordinary clearings and excusings of yourselves; ye confess ye are sinners, and break all the Commands, yet come to particulars, and I know not one of twenty that will cordially or seriously take with almost any sin, yea, what you have granted in a general, you retract and deny it in all the particulars; which declares both that even that which you seem to know, you are altogether strangers to the real truth of it, and that you a • e over-blinded with a fond love of yourselves. I know not • o what purposes your general acknowledgments are, but to • e a mask or shadow to de • eive you, to be a blind to hide you from yourselves; since the most part of you, whensoever challenged of any particular sin, or inclination to it, justify yourselves; and when ever ye ar • put to a particular confession of your sins, you have all wrapped up in such a bundle of co • fusion, that you never know one sin by another. Certainly, ye deceive yourselves, and the truth is not in you.

Let me add moreover another instance; Do you not so live, and walk in sin so securely, so impenitently, as if you had no sin, no fear of God's wrath? Do not the most part contentedly and peaceably live in so much ignorance of the Gospel, as if they had no need of Christ? and so by consequence, as if they had no sin. For if you did believe in the heart, and indeed consider, that your hearts are sinks of iniquity and impurity, would you not think i • nec • ssary to apply to th • Physician? And would you not then labor to know the Physician, & the Gospel which is the report of him? Certainly, in as much as you take no pains for the knowledge of a Savior, you declare that you know not yo • r sin; • or if ye knew the one, ye could not but search to know the other. What i • the voice of most men's walking? Doth it not proclaim this, that they think there is no sin in them? For if there be sin in you, is there not a curse upon you, and wrath before you? And if you did really see the one, would you not see the other? And did you s • e it, would it not drive you to more serious thoughts? Would it not a • right you? Would it not cause you often to retire in to yourselves, and from the world? And above all, how precious would the tidings of a Savior be, that now are common and contemptible? Would you not every day wash in that blood? Would the current of repentance dry? But, forasmuch as you are not exercised this way, give no thoughts nor time for reconcilement with God, walk without any fear of hell, and without any ea • nest and serious study of changing your way • , and purifying your hearts; in a word, though ye confess sin in the gene • all, yet your whole carriage of heart and ways, declare so much, that you think it not • thing much to be feared, or that a man should busy himself about it; that a man may live in it, and be well here, and hereafter. And is not this to deny the very nature of sin, and to deceive your own souls?

SERMON XVII·

THE current of sin dries not up, but run • const • ntly while we are in this life; it i • t • ue, it is much diminished in a believer, and it runs not in such an universal flood over the whole man, as it is in the unbeliever, yet there is a living spring of sin within the godly, which is never ceasing to drop out pollution and defilement, either upon their whole persons, or at least, to intermingle it with their good actions. Now, there is no comfort for this, but this one, that there is another stream of the blood of Jesus Christ, that never dries up, is never exh • usted, never emptied, but flows as full and as free, • s clear and f • esh as ever it did: and this is so great, and of so great virtue, that it is • ble to swallow up the stream of our pollutions, and to t • ke away the daily filth of a believers convers • tion. Now indeed, though the blood of Jesus Christ be of such infinite virtue and efficacy, that it were sufficient to cleanse the sins of the whole world, it would be an over-ransom for the souls of • ll men, there i • so much worth in it: that flood of guiltiness that hath drowned the world, this flood of Christ's blood that gushed out of his side, is of sufficient virtue to cleanse it perfectly away; not withstanding of this absolute, universal sufficiency, yet certain it is, that i • is not actually applied unto the cleansing of all men's sin • , but yet the mo •• part of men are still drowned in the deluge of their own wickedness, and lieth intomb'd in darkness; therefore it concerns us to know the way of the application of this blood, to the cleansing of sinners; and this way is set down in thi • verse, If we confess our sins, he is just to forgive. There was something hin • ed at obscurely in the preceeding verse, for when he shows, that such as say they have no sin, who either by the disposition of their hearts, or carriage of their ways, do by interpretation say, they want sin, such deceive themselves, and the truth is not in them ; and so they have no benefit o • that blood that cleanseth from all sin, and so it is imported here, that though the blood of Christ be fully sufficient to cleanse all sin, yet it is not so prostituted and basely spent upon sinners, as to be bestowed upon them who do not know their sins, and never enter into any serious & impartial examination of themselves; such, though they say they are sinners, yet never descending into themselves to search their own hearts and way • , and so never coming to the pa • ticular knowledge of their sins, and feeling of them, they cannot at all make application of that blood to their own consciences, either seriously or pertinently: Though the river and fountain of Christ's blood run by them, in the daily p • eaching of the Gospel, ye • being destitute of this daily self-inspection, and self-knowledge, being altogether ignorant of themselve • , they can no more wash here, then thes • who never heard of this blood, they being strangers to themselves, sets them at as great distanc • • nd estrangement from the blood of Christ, 〈◊〉 if they were wholly strangers to the very preaching of this blood. Let us then have this first established in our hearts, that there is no cleansing from sin, without the knowledge o • sin, and there is no true knowledge of sin, without a serious soul-examination of sin; these are knit together in their own nature; for how should our sins be pardoned, when we know nothing of them but in a confused generality, that can n • ver affect the heart? How should our sins not b • opened and discovered before the holiness of God, when they are always covered unto us, a • d hid from our eyes? Certainly, the righteousness and wisdom of God requires, that such • monstrous thing, so great an enemy of God's • olinesse, be not wholly past away in sile • ce wit • out o • servati • n. If we do not observe, he will; for to what purpose should pardon be so lavished upon them who • re not capable to know what savor 〈◊〉 grace i • in it? And ce • tainly, that none c • n know, without the feeling knowledge of the hight • nd heinousness • e of sin. Now▪ I p • ay you, how should ye know your sins, when ye will not allow • ny time for the sea • ching of yourselves? Many cannot say that ever they did purposely • nd deliberately withd • awe from the world, and separate their spirits for this business of self-examination: and therefore you remain perpetually strangers to yourselves, and as great stranger • to the power and virtue of this blood.

Now in this verse. he declare • it plainly, in what way and method sin is pardoned by this blood▪ By the former verse. we have so much, that it • s necessary we must search and t • y our way • , that so we may truly know our sins, and charge them upon ourselves; and here it is superadded that we must confess them to him: And the promise • s annexed, he is just and faithful to forgive. Now this confession of sin is very fitly subjoined, both to that which he declared of that great end of the Gospel, communion with God, and that which was immediately holden forth of the remaining virtue of Christ's blood; for might a poor soul say, How shall I come to partake of that blessed society? I am • sinner, and so an enemy to G • d, How shall this enmity be removed? And if the • nswer be made, The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin, and so maketh access for a • inner to enter into this society; Yet a question remains, And how shall the virtue of that be applied to my soul? It is sufficient I know for • ll, but what way may I have the particular benefit of it? Here it is • ully satisfied, If we confess our sins, God is just and faithful to forg • ve. H • lieth under some obligation to pardon us. Now, many of you may think▪ if this be the way, and these be the te • ms • f pardon, then we hope all shall be pardoned, fo • i • there be no more but to con • esse our sin • , who will not willingly do that, and who doth not daily do it? as one said, if it be sufficient to accuse, none will be innocent: Si accusasse sufficiat▪ nemo innocens erit. So you may think, Si confiteri sufficiat, nemo re • • rit. If it be sufficient to con • es • e, none will be guilty. But, my beloved, let us not deceive our selv • s with the present fi • st apprehensions of words that occur in this kind; it is true, as ye take confession, there is nothing more ordinary, but if it be taken in the true Scripture meaning, and in the realest sense, I fear there is nothing among men so extraordinary: I desire you may but consider how you take this word in your dealings with men, you take it certainly in a more real sense then you use it in Religion. If any had done you some great wrong or injury, suppose your servant, or inferior, what acknowledgment would you take from him of his wrong? If he confessed his wrong only in general amb • guou • te • m • , if he did it either lightly, or without any sense or sorrow for it, if he did withal excuse and ex • enuat hi • fault, and never ceased notwithstanding of all his con • ession to do the like wrong when occasion offered, would you not think this • mockery? And would it not • ather provoke you, then pacify you? Now, when ye take words in so real and deep significations in your own matters, what gros • e delusion is it, that you take them in the slightest and emptiest meaning • in these things that relate to God ? And I am sur • the most part of men's confessions are of that • ature which I have described, general, ignorant, senseless, without any particular view, or lively feeling of the vileness and loathsomn • sse o • sin, and their own hearts; when ever it come • to particulars, there is a multitude of extenuations and pretences, to hide and cover the sin; and generally men never cease the more from sinning, it puts no stop in their running, as the horse to the battle : today they confess it, and tomorrow they act it again with as much delight as before. Now, of this I may say, offer it to thy Governor, and see if he will be pleased with thee, or let another offer such an acknowledgment of wrong to thee, and see if it will please thee: and if it will not, why deceive ye your selve • with the outward visage of things, in these matter • that are of greatest soul-concernment? Should they not be taken in the most inward and substantial signification that can be? lest you be deceived with false appearances, and while you give but a shadow of confession, you receive but a shadow of forgiveness, such a thing as will not car • y and bear you out before God's Tribunal. Therefore we must needs take it thus, that confession of sin is the work of the whole man, and not of the mouth only. It is the heart, tongue, and all that is in a man, joining together to the acknowledgment of sin, and God's righteousness: Therefore it includes in it, not only a particular knowledge of our offenses, and the temper of our hearts, but a sensible feeling of the loathsomeness and hainou • nesse of these: and this i • the spring that it flows from, from a broken and contrite heart, that is bruised under the apprehensions of the weight of guiltiness, and is imbittered with the sense of the gall of iniquity, that possesseth the heart. Here then is the great moment of confession and repentance, What i • the inward fountain it flows from: If the heart be brought to the distinct and clear view of itself, and to discern the iniquity and plague of it, and so to fall down under the mighty hand of God, and before his Tribunal, as guilty, as not being able or willing to open his mouth in • n excuse or extenuation of sin, or to plead for compassion from any consideration in himself; a soul thus plac • d, between iniquities set in order and battle array, on the one hand, • nd the holy Law and righteousness of God on the other hand; the filthiness of the one, filling with shame and con • usion, and the d • ead • ulnesse of the other, cau • ing fear and t • embling; in this pos • ure, I say, for • • oul to come and fall at the Judges feet, and make supplicat • on to him in his Son Christ ; thus being inwardly pressed to vent and pour out our hearts before him, in the confession • f ou • sin • , and to fly unto the City of refuge, his mer • y and grace that i • declared in Jesus Christ ; this, I say, is indeed to confess our sins: For then confe •• ion is an exone • ation and disburdening of the he • t; it flows from the abundance of the inward cont • iti • n of it: And as this must be the spring of it, so the • e is another stream that will certainly flow f • om the ingenuous c • nfession of our sins, that is, a forsaking of them: these are the two st • eams that flow from one head and spring, the inward fountain of contrition and sorrow for sin; there is a holy indignation kindled in the he • t against sin, and an engagement upon such a soul, as indeed fly • to mercy, to • enounce sin; and here is the complete nature of true • epentance. Solomon joins them, He th • t confesseth and forsaketh shall have mercy, Prov. 28.13. And this is opposed to coverin • of sins, For he that covereth his sins shall not prosper. And what is that to cover hi • sin? Conselling them in a general confused notion, without any distinct knowledge, or sense of particular guiltiness, that is a cove • ing of sins, or confessing sin, and not forsaking of it, that is a covering of sin; for, to act sin over again, with continual •• esh delight and vigor, is to ret • act our confessions, and to bury and cover them with the mould of new transgressions. Now, take this unto you, you shall not prosper, what can be said worse? For you are but in a dream of happiness, and you shall one day be shaken out of it, and that fancied pardon shall evanish, and then your sins that you cove • ed in this manner, sh • ll be discovered before the Judge of the world, and you shall not stand in judgment.

SERMON XVIII·

THE freedom of God's grace, and the greatness of his wisdom, shine forth most brightly in the dispensation of the Gospel, and both of them beautify and illustrate one another. That there is first, an expiation of sin by the blood of Jesus Christ, that a way is laid down of reconciling the world, and that by the blood of the Cross, that peace is purchased, and so preached unto sinners, as a thing already procured, and now only to be applied unto the soul by faith; herein doth the inestimable riches of the grace of God expose itself to the view of Angels and Men. That the great work of Redemption is ended, e • e it come to us; and there remains nothing, but to publish it to the woe • ld, and invite us to come and receive it, and have a part in it; all i • ready, the feast p • epared, and set on the Table, and there wants nothing but Guests to eat of it, and these are daily called by the Gospel to come to this Table which the wi • dom of the Father hath prepared for us, without either our knowledge or concurrence. Besides, the very terms of p • oposing the Gospel, speak forth absolute f • eedom: What can be more free and easy then this? Chr •• t is sent to die for sinners, and to redeem them from the • urse, only receive him, • ome to him, and believe in him. He hath undertaken to save, only do you consent too, and give up your name to him: ye have nothing to do to satisfy • ustice, or pu • chase salvation, only be willing that he do it for you, or rather acquiesce to that he hath done already, and rest on it. But how shall our sin • be pardoned, and Justice satisfied? Only confess your sins to him, and ye are forgiven, not for your confession, but for Christ, only acknowledge thine iniquity and wrongs, and he hath taken another way to repair his Justice, then by thy destruction and condemnation: he i • so far from extending his Justice against thee, that he is rather in • aged upon his faithfulness an • justice to fo • give thee, because of his promise.

Yet, ye would not conceive so of this manner of proposal o • forgiveness and salvation, as if the requiring of such a thing as repentance in thee, were any derogation from the absoluteness of his grace; for it is not required, either to the point of satisfaction to God's Justice, and expiation of sin; for that is done a •• eady upon the Cross. Christ was not offered to save sinners, he was not sent upon the previous condition of their repentance: Nay, while we were yet enemies, Christ died for the ungodly ; so that to the bu • inesse of our redemption, there was no concurrence upon our part, nor influence upon it by our carriage; for he considered us as sinners, and miserable, and so saved us. And now, to the actual application of these preventing mercies, it' • true, it is needful in the wise and reasonable dispensation of God, that sinners be brought to the knowledge, and sensible acknowledgment of their sin and misery, and so be upon rational inducements of misery within, and mercy without, of self-indigency, and Christ's sufficiency, be drawn in to Jesus Christ, and so to a partaking of these purchased privileges of forgiveness of sin, peace with God, &c. I say, all this is so far from diminishing a jot of that absolute freedom of grace, that it rather jointly proclaims the riches of grace and wisdom both, that repentance should be given to an impenitent sinner, and faith freely bestowed on an unbelieving sinner, and withal, that remission and salvation, together with faith and repentance, should be brought to us by his death, while we were yet enemies; this doth declare the most unparalleled bounty and grace, that the heart of man can imagine▪ and withal, that remission of sins is joined to confession, and salvation to faith, herein the wisdom of God triumphs; for, what way is it possible to declare that freedom of grace, to the sensible conviction of a sinner, and so to demonstrate it to all men's consciences, except by making them return within, to see their own absolute unworthiness, vileness, and incorrespondency to such mercies, and so drawing an acknowledgment of his grace, from the mouths and consciences of all? How shall a soul know that rich superabundant grace, if he know not the abundance of his sins? How shall he profess the one, except he withal confess the other? Let us imagine an impenitent sinner, continuing in • ebellion, pardoned and forgiven: and is there anything more contrary to c • mmon sense and reason, to be in God • favor, and yet not accepting that favor▪ to be a friend, and yet an enemy▪ to have sins forgiven, and yet not known nor confessed; these, I say, • ound some plain dissonancy and discord to our very fi • st apprehensions. Certainly, this is the way to declare the glory of his grace, in the hiding and covering of sin, even to discover sin to the sinner; else if God should hide sin, and it be hid withal from the conscience, both thy sin • nd God's grace should be hid and covered, neither the one nor the other would appear. Take it thus then, the confession of sin is not for this end, to have any causal influence upon thy • emission, or to procure anymore favor and liking with God; but it is simply this, the confession of sin is the most accommodat way of the profession and publication of the grace of God, in the forgiving of sins; Faith and Repentance are not set down as conditions pre-required on thy part, that may procure salvation o • forgiveness, but they are inseparably annexed unto salvation and forgiveness, to the end that they may manifest to our sensible conviction, that grace, and freedom of grace, which shines in forgiveness and salvation.

He is just and faithful, &c. Herein is the wonder of the grace of God increased, that when we are under an obligation to infinite punishment for sin, and bound guilty before his Justice, that the most great and potent Lord, who can easily rid himself of all his enemies, and do all his pleasure in Heaven and Earth, should come under an obligation to man to forgive him his sins. A strange exchange, man is standing bound by the cords of his own sins over to the Justice of God, he is under that insoluble tie of guiltiness; God in the mean time is free and loosed from the obligation of the first Covenant, that is, his promise of giving life to man; we have loosed him from that voluntary engagement, and are bound under a curse; and yet, behold the permutation of grace, man is loosed from sin to which he was bound, and God is bound to forgive sin, to which he was not bound. He enters in a new and voluntary engagement by his promise, and give • right to poor creatures to sue and seek forgiveness of him, according to his faithfulness: Yet in this plea, as it becomes us to u • e confidence, because he gives us ground by his promises, so we should • eason it with humility, knowing how infinitely f • ee and voluntary his cond •• cension is, being always mindful, that he may in righteousness exact punishment of us for sin, • ather then we seek forgiveness from him; and yet seek it we ought, because he hath engaged his faithful promise; which opportunity to neglect, and not to improve, either through fear or security, were as high contempt and disobedience to him, as these sins by which we offend him.

Ce • tainly, the very N • me of God revealed to us, or known by natures light, those general characters of his Name, Mercy and Goodness, Power and Gre • tness, might s • ffice to so much, as to make us in the apprehensions of our own guiltiness and provocations of his Holiness, to look no other way, then to his own merciful and gracious nature: suppose we had nothing of a promise from him, by which he is bound; yet, as the very apprehension of the general goodness, and unlimited bounty, and original happiness that is in God, ought naturally to draw the creature towards him in all its wants, to supplicat his fullness, that can supply all necessities, without lessening his own abundance; e • en • o, if we did only apprehend that God i • the fountain of mercy, and that he is infinitely above us and ou • injuries, and that all our being and well-being eternally, consists in his sole favor; this, I say, alone considered, might draw us to a pouring out our he •• s befo • e him, in the acknowledgment of our guiltiness, and casting ourselves upon his mercy, (as the term is used in War) when there is no quarte • promised, and no capitulation made; it is the last refuge of a desperate sinner, to render unto God upon mercy, to resign himself to his free disposal; Since I cannot but perish (may a soul say) without him, there is no way of escaping from his wrath, I will rather venture, and go in to the King, and if I perish I perish ; there is more hope in this way to come to him, then to fly from him, perhaps he may show an act of absolute sovereign goodness, and be as glorious in passing by an offense, as just in punishing it. Do I not see in man, (in whom the Divine Majesty hath imprinted some characters of conscience and honesty) that it is more generous and noble to forgive, then to revenge? And do I not see generally among men, clemency and compassion is commended above severity, and • igour, though just, especially towards these who are inferior, weak, unable to resist, and have yielded themselves to mercy. Now, shall I not much more apprehend that of God, which I admire in a sinful man? Shall not that be most perfect in him, which is but a maimed and broken piece of his image in lost man? Certainly, it is the glo • y of God to conceal an offense, as well as to publish it; and he can show as much Greatness and Majesty, in Mercy, as in Justice: therefore I will wholly commit myself to him. I think a man ought to reason so, from the very natural knowledge he hath o • God. But when ye hav • not only his Name and Nature published, but his Word and Promise so often proclaimed, himself come under some • ye to receive and accept graciously all sinners that fly in under the shadow of his wings of mercy; then O, with how much persuasion and boldness should we come to him, and lay open our sins before him, who not only m • y pardon them, and not only is likely to do it, seeing he hath a gracious n • ture, but ce • tainly will pardon them, cannot but do it, because his faithfulness requireth it. Certainly, he hath superadded his Word to his Name, his Promise to his Nature, to confirm our faith, and give us ample ground of strong consolation.

There is another more suitable notion about the justice of God, in forgiving sin; it hath some truth in the thing itself, but whether it be imported here, I dare not certainly a • firm. Some take his faithfulness in relation to his word of promise, and his justice in relation to the price and ransom paid by Christ, importing as much as thi • , what ever sinner comes to God in Christ, confessing their own guiltiness in sincerity, and supplicating for pardon, he cannot in justice refuse to give it out unto them, since he hath taken complete satisfaction of Christ. When a sinner seeks a discharge of all sin, by virtue of that blood, the Lord is bound by his own • ustice to give it out, and to write a free remission to them; since he is fully paid, he cannot but discharge us, and cancel our bonds. So then a poor sinner that desires mercy, and would forsake sin, hath a two • old ground to suit this forgiveness, upon Christ's blood, and God's own word, Christ's purchase and payment, and the Fathers promise, he is just and righteous, and therefore he cannot deny the one, nor yet take two satisfactions, two payments for one debt; and he is faithful, so he cannot but stand to the other, that is his promise; and thus is forgiveness ascertained and assured unto the confessing sinner. If any would take this in relation to confession, as if it reflected upon that which preceeded, and the meaning should be, if any man confess his sin, he is just to • equi • e confession with remission, he cannot in righteousness deny one that deserves it so well, he is just to return some suitable recompense, to such a humble confession; this sense were a perverting of the whole Gospel, and would overturn the • oundations of grace, for, there is no connection between our confession, and his remission, but that which the absolute good pleasure of his will hath made; besides, that repentance is • s free grace given from the exalted Prince, as remission of sins is.

SERMON XIX·

ANd who will not confess their sin, say you? Who doth not confess sins daily, and therefore, who is not • orgiven and pardoned? But stay, and consider the matter again, take not this upon your first light app • ehensions, which in Religion are commonly empty, vain, and superficial; but search the Scriptures, and your own hearts, that ye may know wh • t confession means. It may be said of that external custom of confessi • n that many of you have, that the Lord hath not required it, Sacrifices and burnt offerings thou wouldest not, some external submissions and confession • , which ye take • or compensation • or sins and offenses against God, these, I say, are but abomination to the Lord; but a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise, Psal. 51.16, 17. And lo, I come to do thy will, I delight in it, Psal. 40.7, 8. When external professions and confessions, are separated from the internal contrition of the heart, and godly sorrow for sin; and when both internal contrition, and external profession and confession are divided from con • ormity, o • study of conformity to God's will, then they a • e in no better acceptance with God, then these external sacrifices which God rejected, though he had required them, because they were disjoined from the true life of them, and spiritual meaning, that is, faith in a Mediator, and love to obedience. If confession flow not from some contrition of heart, if there be not some inward spring of this kind, the heart opened, and unfolding its very in-side before God, breaking in pieces, which makes both pain or sense, and likewise gives the clearer view of the inward parts of the heart; and if it be not joined with affection to God's will and Law, earnest love to new obedience, it is but a vain, empty, and counterfeit confession, that denies itself. I suppose, a man confess sin which he feels not, or forsakes not, in so doing he declares that he knows not the nature of sin, he may know such an action, that it is commonly called sin, and, it may be, is shamed and censured among men, and therefore he confesseth it, but while he confesseth it without sense or • eeling, he declares that he takes it not up as sin, hath not • ound the vileness and loathsomeness of the nature of it, nor beheld it as it is a violation of the most high Lord's Laws, and a provocation of his glorious holiness. Did a soul view it thus, as it is represented in God's sight, as it dishonors that glorious Majesty, and hath manifest rebellion in it against 〈◊〉 , and a • it de • iles and pollute • our spirits, he could not, I say, thus look upon it, but he would • in • some inward soul-abhorrency and displicence at it, and himself too. How monstrous would it make him in his own sight? It could not but affect the heart, and humble it in secret before God ; whereas your forced and strained confessions made in public, they are merely taken on then, and p • oceed from no inward principle, there is no sh • dow of any • oul-humiliation in secret, but as some use to put on sackcloth when they come to make that pro • ession, and put it 〈◊〉 when they go out; so you put on a habit of confe • sion in public, and put it off you when you go out of the Congregation. To lie mou • ning be • ore the Lord, in your secret retirements, that you are strangers to. But I wonder how you should thus mock God, that you will not be as serious and re • l in confessing, as in sinning? Will ye sin with the whole man, and confess only with the mouth? Will ye act sin with delight, and not con • esse it with a true sorrow that indeed affects the heart? Now, do you honor God by confession, when the manner of it declares, that you feel not the bitterness o • sin, and conceive not the holiness and righteousness of God, whom you have to do withal? Even so, when you confess sin, which you do not fors • ke, you in so far declare that you know not sin, what it is you confess, and so, that you h • ve mocked him who will not be mocked; for, what a mockery is it, to con • esse these • ault • , which we have no solid ef •• ctual purpose to re • o • m? To vomit up our sins by con • ession, that we may with more desire and lust lick up the vomit again, and to p • etend to wash, • or nothing else, but to retu • n to the puddle and defile again. My brethren, out of the same fountain comes not bitter water and sweet, Jam. 3.11. Since that which ordina • ily proceeds from you, is bitter, unsavory to God and man, carnal, earthly, and sensual, your ways are a displayed banner against God's will, then lay your account, all your professions and acknowledgments are of the same nature, they are but a little more sugared over, and their inward nature is not changed, as un • cceptable to God, as your sins are.

I would give you some characters out of the Text, to discover unto you the vanity and emptiness of your ordinary consessions. The conf • ssion of sin must be particular, universal, perpetual or constant, Particular, I say, for there a • e many thousands who con • esse that they a • e sinners, and yet do not at all confess their sins. For, to conf • sse sins, is to confess their own real, actual guiltiness, that which they indeed have committed, or are inclined to do. So the true and sincere confession of a repenting people is expressed, 1 King. 8.38. What prayer or supplication soever be made by any man which shall know the plague of his own heart, and spread forth his hands, then bear thou in Heaven, and forgive every man whose h • a • t th • u know • t. Now consider w • ether o • not you be thus a • qu • inted with your own he •• s and way • , as to know your particular plague and predominant. A • e you not rather wholly strangers to yourselves, especially the plague o • your he • ts? There are few that keep so much as a Record o • Register of their actions done against God's Law, or their neglects of his will, and therefore when you are particularly posed about your sin • , or the challenge of sin, you can speak nothing to that, but that you never knew one sin by another; that is indeed, you never observed your sins, you never knew any sin, but contented yourself with the t • adition you • eceived that you were sinners; but if any man be used t • • eflect upon his own ways, yet gene • ally, the m • st part of men are altogether strangers to thei • hearts; if they know any evil of themselves, it is at most, but something done, or undone, some commission or omission, but nothing of the inward fountain of sin is discovered I be • eech you then, do not deceive yourselves with this general acknowledgment that you are sinners, while in the mean time your real particular sins are hid from you, and you cannot choose but hide in a generality from God. Certain • y, you are far from forgiveness, and that bless • e • nesse of which David speaks, Psal. 32. for this • elongs to the man that hideth not his sins, in whose heart is no guile. And this is the plainness and sincerity of the heart, rightly to discern its own plagues, and unfold them to him. David, no doubt, would any time have confessed that he was a sinner, but ma • k how heavy the wrath of God was on him for all that, because he came not to a plain, ingenuous, and humble acknowledgment of his pa • ticular sins. I confessed my s • n, and mine iniquity I hid not. While you con • esse only in gene • all terms, you confess others sins rather then yours, but this is it, to descend into our own hearts, and find out our just and true accusation, our real debt, to charge ourselves as narrowly as we can, that he may discharge us fully, and forgive us freely.

Next, I say, confession must be universal, that is, of all sin, without partiality, or respect to any sin. I doubt if a man c • n truly repent of any sin, except he in a manner repent of all sin; or truly forsake one sin, except there be a divorcement of the heart from, and forsaking of all sin: therefore the Apostle saith, if we confess our sins, not sin simply, but sins, taking in all the body and collection of them; for it is opposed to that, if we say we have no sin, &c. Then there lies a necessity upon us to confess what we have, we have all sin, and so should confess all sins. Now, my meaning is not, that it is absolutely necessary that a soul come to the particular knowledge, and acknowledgment of all his sins, whether of ignorance, or infirmity, nay, that is not possible, for who can understand his errors ? (saith David) cleanse thou me from secret sins, Psal. 19.12. There are many sins of ignorance, that we know not to be sins, and many escapes of infi • mity, th • t we do not advert to, wh • ch otherwise we might know. Now I do not impose that bu • den on a soul, to conf • sse every individual sin of that kind, but this certainly must be, there must be such a discovery of the nature of sin, and the loathsomeness of it in God's fight, and the heinous guilt of it, as may ab • se and humble the soul in hi • presence; there must be some distincter and clearer view of the dispositions and lusts of the heart, then men attain generally unto; and withal, a discovery of the holy and spiritual meaning of God's Law, which may unfold a multitude of transgressions, th • t are hid from the world, and make sin to abound in a man • sight • nd sense; (for when the L • w enters, sin abounds) and to close up this, as the • e are many sins now discovered unto such a 〈◊〉 , which lay hid before, the light having shined in upon the darkness ; and above all, the desperate wickedness of the heart is presented, so there is no sin kno • n and discerned, but there is an equal, impartial sorrow for it, and indign • tion against it. As a believer hath respect to all God's comm • nds, and loves to obey them, so the penitent soul hath an impa • tial hatred of all sin, even the dearest and most beloved idol, and desires unfeignedly to be rid of it. Hence your usual public confession • of sin, are wipt out of the number of true and sincere confessions, because you preten • to repent of one sin, and in the mean time, neither do ye know a multitude of other sins that prevail over you, nor do you mo •• n for them, nor forsake them. Nay, you do not examine yourselves that way, to find out the temper of your hearts, or tenor and course of your ways. You pretend to repent for drunkenness, or such like, and yet you are ordinary c •• sers, swearers, liars, railers, neglecters of prayer, profane • s of the Sabbath, and such like, and these you do not withal mourn for. In sum, he that mou • ns only for the sin that men censures, he knoweth and confesseth no sin sincerely; if you would indeed return unto God from some gross evils, you must be divorced in your affections from all sin.

Then this confession should be perpetuated and continued, as long as we are in this life, for that i • imported by comparing this verse. with these it stand • between. If we say we have no sin, if we say at any time, while we are in this life, if we imagine or dream of any such perfection he • e, we • lie. Now, what should we do then, since sin is alway • lodging in our mort • l bodies, during this time of necessary abode beside an ill neighbor? What should be our exercise? even this, Confess your sin • ▪ confess, I say, as long as you have them, draw out this, the length of that: Be continually groaning to him under that body of de • th, and mou • ning under your daily infi • mities and failings; that stream of corruptions runs continually, • et the stream of your contrition and confession • un as incessantly; and there is an • there stream of Christ's blood, that runs constantly too, to cleanse you. Now herein is the discovery of the vanity and deceitfulness of many of your conf • ssi • ns, public and private, the cu • rent of them soon d • ies up, there is no perpetuity or constancy in them, no daily humbling or abasing yourselves, but all that is, is by fits and st • rts, upon some transient conviction • , or outward censures and rebukes: • nd thus men quickly cover and bury their sins in oblivion and secu • ity, and forget what manner of person • they were, they are not under a daily, impa •• i • l examination of their ways, takes notice of nothing but some solemn and g • osse escapes, and these are but a short time under their view.

Now, let me apply a little to the encouragement of poor souls, who being inwardly burdened with the weight of their own guiltiness, exoner themselves by confe • sion in his bosom; as you have two suit • , and two desires to him, one, that your sins may be forgiven, another, that they m • y be subdued; so he hath two solemn engagements and tyes to satisfy you; one, to forgive your sin • , and another, to cleanse you from all unrighteousness. The soul that is truly penitent, is not only desi • ous of pardon of sin, that is not the chief or only design o • such a soul in application to Christ ; but it is withal to be purified from sin, and all unrighteousness, and to have ungodly lusts cleansed away; and herein is the great probation of su • h an ones reality, it will not suffice or satisfy such an one, to be assured o • delivery from wrath and condemnation, but he must likewise be redeemed from sin, that it have no dominion over him; he desires to be • reed from death, that he may have his conscience withal purged from dead works, to serve the living God, Heb. 9.14. He would have sin blotted out o • a • accusing conscience, that it may be purged out of the affections of the heart, & he would have his sins washed away for this end especially, that he may be w • shed from his sins, Rev. 1.5. Now, as this is the great desire and design of such a heart, in which there is no guile, to have sin purified, and purged out of us, as well as pardoned, so there is a special tie and obligation upon God our Father by promise, not only to pardon sin, but to purge from sin, not only to cover it with the garment of Christ's righteousness, and the breadth of his infinite love, but also, to cleanse it by his Spirit, effectually applying that blood to the purifying of the heart. Now where God hath bound himself voluntarily, and out of love, do not ye loose him by unbelief, for that will bind you into a prison: but labor to receive these gracious promises, and to take him bound as he offer • . Believe, I say, that he will both forgive you, and in due time will cleanse your heart from the love and delight of sin; believe his promise, and engagement by promise to both, and this will set to a seal to his truth and faithfulness. There is nothing in God to affright a sinner, but his justice, holiness, and righ • eousnesse, but unto thee, who in the humble confession of thy sins, flies in to Jesus Christ, that very thing which did discourage thee, may now encourage thee, and •• bolden thee to come, for he is just and faithful to forgive sins ▪ hi • Justice being now sati • fied, is engaged that way, to forgive, not to punish.

SERMON XX·

THere is nothing in which Religion more consists, then in the • rue and un • eigned knowledge of ourselves. The Heathens supposed th • t sentence, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , know thyself, descended •• om Heaven. It was indeed the Motto of the wisest and most • eligious amongst them▪ but certain it is, that the t • ue and sincere unde • standing of ou • selves, descends • rom the Father of lights, and is a great gift as man i • capable of, next to the knowledge of God him • self. The • e is nothing more necessary to man, either as man, or as a Christian, either as endowed with • eason, o • pro • essing Religion, then that he should be th • oughly acquainted with himself, his own heart, its disp • siti • ns, and inclinations, and lusts, his ways, and actions, that while he travels abroad to other creatures and Countries, he may not commit so shameful an absurdity, as to be a stranger at home, where he ought to be best acquainted; Yet how sad is it, that this which is so absolutely needful, and universally p • ofitable, should be lying under the manyest difficulties in the attainment of it? So that there is nothing ha • der, then to b • ing a man to a pe • fect unde • standing of himself, what a vile, naughty, and base creatu • e he is, how defiled and desperately wicked his natu • e, how abomin • ble his actions, in a word, what a compound of darkness and wickedness he i • , a heap of defiled dust, and a mass of con • usion, a sink o • impiety and iniquity, even the best of mankind, those of the rarest and most • efined extraction, take them at thei • best estate, thus they are as sepulchers painted without, and putrefied within, outwardly ado • ned, and within • u •• of rottenness and cor • uption, the imagination of his heart only evil continually. Now, I say, here is the great business and labor of Religion, to bring a man to the clear discerning of his own nature, to represent unto him justly his own image, as it is painted in the Word of God, and presented in the glass of the Law, and so by such a surprizing monstrous appearance, to affect his heart to self-abhorrency in dust and ashes, and to have this representation, however unpleasant, yet most profitable, continually obversant to our minds, that we may not forget what manner of persons we are. Truly, I may say, if there be a perfection in this estate of imperfection, herein it consists; and if there be any attainment of a Christian, I account this the greatest, to be truly sensible of himself, and vile in his own eyes.

It was the custom of Philip King of Macedonia, after he had overcome the • amous Republic of Greece, to have a young man to salute him fi • st every morning with these words, Philippe homo es, Philip thou art a man, to the end that he might be daily minded o • his mortality, and the inconstancy of hum • ne aff • irs, lest he should be pust up with his victory, and this was done be • ore any could have access to speak with him, as if it were, to season and prepare him for the actions of the day; but O, how much more ought a Christian to train up his own heart, and accustom it this way, to be his continual remembrance • of himself, to suggest continually into his mind, and whisper this first into his ear in the morning, and mid day, and evening, peccator es, thou art a sinner, to hold our own image continually before us, in prayer, and praises, in res •• aints, in liberties of spi • it, in religious actions, and in all our ordinary conversation, that it might salt and season all our thoughts, words, and deeds, and keep them from that ordinary putrifaction and corruption of pride and self-conceit, which maketh all our ointm • nt stink.

If we say we have no sin, we make him a liar. Why is this repeated again? but to show unto us, even to you Christians, who believe in Ch • ist, and are washen in his blood, how hard it is to know ourselves a • ight. If we speak of the g • osser sort of persons, they scarce know any sin, nor the nature and vileness o • any that they know, the • e • ore they live in secu • ity and peace, and bless themselves in their own hearts, as if they had no sin; for such I say, I shall only say unto • hem, that yourself deceiving is not so subtle, but it may soon be discerned, your lie is gross, and quickly seen th • ough. But I would turn myself to you Christians, who are in some measure acquainted with yourselves, yet there is s • mething against you from this word; after ye have once got some peace from the challenge of sin, and hope of pardon, you many times fall out of acquaintance with yourselves, having attained by the Lord's grace, to some restraint o • the more visible out-breakings of sin; you have not that occasion to know yourselves by, and so you remain strangers to your hearts, and fall into better liking with yourselves, then the fi • st sight of yourselves permitted you. Now, my beloved in the Lord, herein you are to be blamed, that you do not rather go in to the fountain, and the • e behold the stream • , then only to behold the fountain in the streams; you ought rather upon the Lord • testimony of man, to believe what is in you, before you find it, and see it breaking out, and keep this character continually in your • ight, which will be more powerful • o humble you, then many out-breaking • . I think we should be • o well acqu • inted with our own natures, as to account nothing •• range to them that we see abroad, but r • there think all the gros • nesse and wi • ke • nesse of men suitable and correspondent to o • r spi • its, to that root of bitterness that is in them; The goodness of God in restraining the appearance o • that in us, which i • within us in • e • lity, should rather increase the sense of our own wickedness, then dimin • sh it in our view.

Indeed, self-love is that which blinds us, and bemists us in the sight of ourselves, we look upon ourselves through this • alse medium, and it repr • sent • all things more beautiful then they a • e; and therefore the Apostle hath reason to s • y, we deceive ourselves, and we make God a liar. O, how much practical self-deceit is there in the application of truth? there are many errors contrary to the truths themselves, and many deceivers, and deceived, who spread them: but I believe there is more error committed by men, in the application of truths to their o • n hearts, the • in the contemplation of it; and more self-deceiving, then de • eiving of others. It is strange to think, how sound, and clear, and distinct, a man's judgment will be against those evils in others, which yet he seeth not in himself; How many Christians will be able to decipher the nature • of some vices, and unbowel the evils of them, and be quick-sighted to e • py the leas • appea • ance of them in another, and • o condemn it, and yet • o pa • tial a • e they in judging themselve • , • elf-love so purblinds them in t • is reflection, that they cannot discern that in them • elves, which o • hers cannot but discern. How o • ten do men declaim against pride, and covetou • nesse, and self-seeking, and other evils of that kind? they will pour out a flood of eloquence and zeal against them▪ and yet • t is strange they do not adv •• t, that they are accusing themselves, and impannel • ing themselves in such discourse • , though others, it may be, will easily pe • ceive • p •• dominancy of these evils in them. Who art thou, O m •• , who judgeth another, and • ost the same things? Canst thou escape God's judgment? Rom. 2.1. Consider this, O Ch • istian, that thou may le • rn to turn the edge of all thy censures and convictions against • hy self, that thou may prevent all men's judgments of thee, in judging thyself all things, that men can judge thee, that is, a • hief of sinners, that hath the root of all sin in thee; and so, thou may anticipa • the divine judgment too, for if we judge ourselves, we shall not be judged. Labor thou to know these evils tha • are incident to thy nature, before others can know them, that is, in the root and • ountain, before they come to the • ruit and stream; to know sins in the first conceptions of them, before they come to such productions as are visible; and this shall keep thee humble, and preserve thee from much sin, and thou sh • lt not deceive thyself, nor dishonor God, in making him a liar, but rather set to thy seal to his • ruth, and his word shall abide in thee.

There is a common rule that we have in judging ourselves, by comparing ourselves amongst ourselves, which (as Paul saith) is not wisdom, 2 Cor. 10.12. When we do not measure our • elves by the perfect rule of God's holy Word, but parallel ourselves with other persons, who are still defective from the rule, far further from it, then any one is from another: this is the o • din • ry method of the judging of self-love; we compare with the worst person • , and if we be not so bad as they, we think ourselves good; if not so ignorant as some ar • , we presume that we know; if not so profane as many, we believe ourselves religious. Lord, I am not as this Publican, so • aith man • in their hearts, there's a curser, a swearer, a drunkard, a blind ignorant soul, that neglects prayer in private and public, and upon these ruins of others sins, they build some better estimation of themselves. But, I pray 〈◊〉 what will that avail you to be unlike them, you be more unlike your pattern, then they are unlike you? It may be, others will compare with these that are good, but it is with that which is worst in them, and not that which is best; How often do men reckon this way, here is a good man, here is an eminent person, yet he is such and such, subject to such infirmities, and here self-love flatters itself, and by flattering, deceives itself. My beloved, let us learn • o establish a more perfect rule, which may show all our imperfections: let our rule ascend, that our hearts may descend in humility, but when our rule and pattern descends to men of like infirmities, then our pride and self-conceit ascend • , and the higher we be that way in our own account, the lower we are indeed, and in God's account; and the lower we be in ourselves, we lose nothing by it, for as God is higher in our account, so we are higher in God's account, according to that standing rule, Mat 23.12. Whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased, and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted.

SERMON XXI·

THE Gospel is an entire uniform piece, all the parts of it are interwoven through other, and interchangeably knit together; so that there can be no dividing of it, no more then of Christ's coat that was without seam. If you have it not altogether by the divine lot, you cannot truly have any part of it, for they are so knit together, that if ye disjoin them, you destroy them; and if they cease to be together, they cease all • ogether to be. I • peak this, because there may be pretensions to some abstracted parts of Ch •• stianity; one man p • etends to • aith in Jesus Christ, and persuasion of pardon of sin, and in this there may be some secret glo • ying, a • ising from that con •• dence: another may p • eten • to the study of holiness and obedience, and may endeavor something that way, to do known duties, and abstain from gross sin • . Now, I say, if the first do not conjoin the st • dy of the second, and, if the • econd do not lay down the first as the foun •• tion, both of them imb •• ce a shadow for the thing itself; be • au •• they separate these things that God hath joined▪ and so can •• ve no b • ing, but in men's fan • y, when they are not conjoined. He that would pretend to a righteousness of Christ without him, must • ithall study to have the righteousness of the Law fulfilled within him; and he that endeavors to have holiness within, must withal go out of himself, to seek a righteousness without him, whereupon to build hi • peace and acceptance with God, or else, n • ither of them hath truly any righteousness without them, to cover them, or holiness within, to cleanse them. Now here the beloved Apostle shows us this divine contexture of the Gospel, The gre • t and compr • hensive end and design of the Gospel is, peace in pardon of sin, and purity from sin: These things I write unto you, that you sin not, &c. The Gospel is comprised in commands and promises; both make one web, and 〈◊〉 in together. The immediate end of the command is, that we sin not ; nay, but there is another thing always either expressly added, or t • citly understood; but if any man sin (that desires not to • in) we have an advocate with the Father: so the promise comes in as a su • sidiary h • lp to all the pr • c • pts. It is ann • x • d to give security to a poor soul from despair; and therefore the Apostle t •• cheth you a bless • d Art of constructing all the commands and exhortations of the Gospel, those of the highest pitch, by supplying the full sense with this happy and seasonable caution or caveat, but if any man sin, &c. Doth that command, Be ye holy as I am holy, perfect as your heavenly Father, which sounds • o much unattainable perfection, and seems to hold forth an inimitable pattern, doth it, I say, discourage thee? Then, use the Apostles Art, add this caution to the command, subjoin this sweet exceptive, But if any man (that desires to be holy, and gives himself to this study) fail often, and fall, and defile himself with unholiness, let him not despair, but know that he hath an advocate with the Father ; If that of Paul's urge thee, present your bodies a living sacrifice, and be ye not conformed to the world, but transformed, and glorify God in your bodies and spirits which are his, Rom. 18.1, 2. and 1 Cor. 6.20. And cleanse yourselves from all fil • hiness • of the flesh and spirit, 2 Cor. 7.1. And walk in the spirit, and walk as children of the light, &c. If these do too rigorously exact upon thee, so as to make thee lose thy peace, and weaken thy he • t and hands; learn to make out a • ull sentence, and fill up the full sense and meaning of the Gospel, according as you see it done here. But if any man, (whose inward heart-desires, and chief designs are towards these things, who would think himself happy in holiness and conformity to God, and estimat • his blessedness or misery, from his union or separation from God) sin, then we have an advocate with the Father, even Jesus Christ the righteous, who hath all that we want, and will not suffer any accusation to fasten upon us, as long as he lives to make intercession for us.

On the other han • , take a view of the promises of the Gospel, though the immediate, and next end of them is, to give peace to troubled souls, and settle us in the high point of our acceptance with God, yet certainly, they have a further end, even purity from sin, as well as pardon of sin, cleansing from all sin and filthiness, as well as covering of •• lthinesse. These things I write unto you, that ye sin not ; What things? Consider what goes before, and what follows a • ter, even the publication of the Word of Life, and eternal life in him, the declaration of our fellowship with God in Christ, the offering of the blood of Christ, able to cleanse all sin, the promise of par • on to the penitent, confession of sin, all these things 〈◊〉 write, that ye sin not ; so that this seems to be the ultimat end, and chief design of the Gospel, • nto which all tends, unto which all work to • ether: the promises are for peace, and peace 〈◊〉 for purity; the promises are for faith, and • aith is for purifying of the heart, and perform • ng the precepts; so that, all at length returns • o this, from whence while we swerv'd, all this mi • ery is come upon us; In the beginning, it was thus, man created to glorify God, by obedience to his blessed will, sin interposeth, and ma • reth the whole frame, and from this hath a flood of misery flowed in upon us: Well, the Gospel comes offering a Savior, and • orgivenesse in him; thus peace is purchased, pardon granted, the soul • s restored unto its primitive condition, and state of subordination to God's will, and so redemption ends, where creation began, or rather • n a more perfect frame of the same kind. The second Adam builds what the first Adam broke down, and the Son re-creates what the Father in the beginning created, yea, with some addition; • n this new edition of mankind, all seems new; new Heavens, and new Earth, and that because the creature that was made old, and defiled with • in, is made new by grace. Now, he •• e you may • earn the second part of this lesson, that the Apostle teacheth us; as ye ought to correct (as it were) precepts of the Gospel, by subjoining p • omises in this manner, so ye ought to di • ect promises, toward • the performance of his p • ecepts, as their chief end: whensoever you • ead it w • itten, The blood of Christ cleanseth from 〈◊〉 sin, if we confess, he is faithful to forgive our sins▪ God so loved the world, that he gave his Son; 〈◊〉 that believeth hath everlasting life, &c. The • make up the entire sense and meaning, after 〈◊〉 manner, These things are written, that we sin not. I • there a redemption from wrath published? 〈◊〉 there reconciliation with God preached? And are we beseeched to come and have the benefit of them? Then say, and supply within thine ow • heart, These things are written, published, an • preached, that we may not sin. Look to the furthest end of these things, it is, that we sin not. The end of things, the scope of writings, an • the purpose of actions, is the very measure o • them, and so that is the best interpreter of them. The scope of Scriptures, is by all accounted th • very thread, that will lead a man • ight in and ou • of the labyrinths that are in it. And so it is used as the rule of the interpretation in the parts of it. Now, (my beloved in the Lord) take 〈◊〉 the scope of the whole Scriptures, the mark th •• all the Gospel shoots at, These things I write unto you, that ye sin not. You hear it is true, 〈◊〉 pardon of sin, of delivery from wrath, of not coming into condemnation, of covering offenses, o • blotting them out as a cloud, all these you read and hear: But what do they all aim at? If you consider not that attentively, you shall no more unde • stand the plain Gospel, then you can expound a parable without observing the scope of it. Do you think these have no further aim, then to give you peace, and to secure you from fears and terrors, that you may then walk as you li • t, and follow the guiding of your own hearts? Nay, i • you take it so, you totally mistake it, if you do not re • d on, and find all these things w • itten to this end, that we sin not, you err, not understanding, or misunderstanding the Scriptures.

These things I write unto you, little children : To enforce this the more sweetly, he useth this affectionate compellation, little children, for, in all things affection hath a mighty stroke, almost as much as reason; it is the most suitable way to prevail with the spirit of a man, to deal in love and tenderness with it; it insinuats more sweetly, and so can have less resistance, and therefore works more strongly. It is true, another way of terrors, threatenings, and reproo •• mingled with sharp and heavy words of challenges, may make a great deal of more no •• e, and yet it hath not such virtue, to preva • l with • rational soul; the Spirit of the Lord was not in the wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the still and calm voice, which came to Elijah, 1 King. 19.11, 12. These suit not the gentle dove-like disposition of the Spirit, and though they be fit to rent rocks in pieces, yet they cannot truly break heart • , and make them cont • ite: The Sun will make a m • n sooner p • rt with his cloak, then the wind; such is the differen • e between the warm beams of affection, and the boisterous violence of p • ssion or terror. Now, O that there were such a • pirit in them who preach the Gospel, such a fathe • lie affection, that with much pity and compassion they might call sinners from the ways of death. O, there is no subject, in which a man may have mo • e room for melting affections, nothing that will admit of such bowels of compassion as this, the multitude of souls posting to destruction, and so blind-folded, that they cannot see it. Here the fountain of tears might be opened to run abundantly▪ the Lord pe • sonats a tender-hear • ed Father or Husband often, Oh, why will ye die? Ye have broken my heart with your whorish heart: O Jerusalem, how oft would I, but thou wouldst not? When he, who is not subject to human pas • ions, expresseth himself thus, how much more doth it become u • , poor creatures, to have pity on our fellow-creatures? Should it not press out from us many groan • , to see so many pe • ishing, even beside salvation. I wish you would take it so, that the warning you to flee from the wrath to come, is the greatest act of s • vour and love that can be done to you. It becomes us to be solicitous about you, and declare unto you, that you will meet with destruction in those paths you walk into▪ that these ways go down to the chambers of death. O that it might be done with so much feeling compassion of your misery, as the necessity of it requires. But, why do many of you t • ke it so hard to be thus forwarned, and have your danger declared unto you? I guess at the reason of it; you are in a distemper, as sick children distempered in a fever, who a • e not capable to discern their parents tender affection, when it crosseth their own inclinations and ways.

SERMON XXII·

CHrist Jesus came by water and by blood, not by water only, but by blood also, and I add, not by blood only, but by water also, Chap 5.6. In sin, there is the guilt, binding over to punishment, and there is the filth or spot, that defileth the soul in God's sight: To take away guilt, nothing so fit as blood, for there is no punishment beyond blood, therefore saith the Apostle, without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sin, Heb. 9.22. and for the stain and spot, nothing is so suitable as water, for that is generally appointed for cleansing; and some shadow of this the Heathens had, who had their lust • a • ions in water, and thei • expiation • by blood; but more significantly and plainly, the Jews, who had their purifications by sp • inkling of water▪ Numb. 8.7. and expiations by sac • ificing of slain b •• st • ; but all the •• were but evanishing· shadows: now the substance is come▪ Jesus Christ is c • me in water and blood ; in wa • e • , to clean •• the spots of the soul, to pu • ifie it •• om all filth • nesse; and in blood, to satisfy for sin, and remove the punishment. You have both in these words of the Apostle, ( • o • • e labors to let out unto us the true Chris • , whole and inti • e) These things I write unto you that ye sin not : He • e is the proper end of the • ater; and if any man sin, we have Christ a propitiation for our sins, here is the blood, the end of the blood i • , to s • ve us, the end of the water is, that we sin no • , since we are saved. He came in the blood of expiation, because • we had sinned; he came i • the water of sanctification, that we might not sin. His blood speaks peace to the soul, and the water subjoy • s, but let them not return to folly. His blood cries, Behold thou art made whole, and the water echoes unto it, sin no more, l • st a worse thing bef • ll thee, Joh. 5.14. These two streams o • water and blood, which a • e appointed for purity and pardon, run intermingled all along, and so the proper effects of them are interchangeably attributed to either of them, he hath washed us in hi • blood, Rev. 1.5. and 7.14. And the blood of Christ cleanseth u • from all sin▪ Then certainly, this blood cannot be without water, it is n • ver separated from it, the proper effect of blood is to cover sin, but because the water runs in that channel, and is conveyed by the blood thither, therefore it doth cleanse sin, • s well as cover it.

These things I write unto you, that ye sin not▪ This then is the design of the whole Gospel, the g • eat and grand design, to destroy sin, and save the sinner. There is a treaty of peace made with the sinner, and Christ is the peace-maker : a tender of life and salvation is made to him, but there is no treaty, no capitulation, or composition with sin, out it must go, fi • st out of its domin • on, then out of its habitation; it must fi • st lose its power, and then its being in a believer; yea, this is one of the chief articles of our peace, not only required of us as our duty, that we should destroy that, which cannot but destroy us; (for, if any man will needs hug and imbr • ce his sins, and cannot part with them, he must needs die in their embracements, because the Council of Heaven hath irrevocably past a fatal sentence against sin, as the only thing that in all the Creation hath the most perfect opposition to his blessed will, and contrariety to his holy • ature) but also and especially, as the great stipulation and promise upon his part, to redeem • s from all our iniquities, and purify us to himself, a people zealo •• of good works ; and not only to redeem us from hell, and deliver u • from wrath, Ti • . 2 14. He hath undertaken this gr •• t work, to compe •• e this mutiny and rebellion that was raised up in the Creation by sin, else • what peace could be between God and us, as long as his enemy and ours dwelt in our bosom, and we at peace with it.

Now, take a short view of these thing • , 〈◊〉 are wri • ten in the preceeding Chapter, and 〈◊〉 shall see that the ha • monious v • ice • f all tha • is in the Gospel, is this, that we sin not. Let me say further, as these things are written th • t we sin not, so all thing • are done that we sin not. Tak • all the whole woe • k of Creation, of Providenc • , of Redemption, all of them speak one language, that we sin not: D • y unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge: There is no speech nor language where their voice i • not heard, P • all. 19.2, 3. And, a • in that place, their voice proclaims the Glory, Majesty, and Goodness of God, so they with the same sound, proclaim and declare, that we should not sin against such a God, so great, and so good; all that we see, suggests and in • in • ats this unto our hearts▪ all that we hear, whispers this unto our ears, that we sin not: That he made us, and not we ourselves, and that we are the very work of his hands, this speaks our absolute and essential dependence on him, and therefore proclaims with a loud voice, that sin, which would cut off this subordination, and loose from this dependence upon his holy will, is • monstrous unnatural thing. Take all his mer • ies towards us, whether general or particular, the tr • nscendent abundance of his infinite goodness in the earth, that river of his riches that • un • through it, to wa ••• every m • n, and brings supply to his door • , that infinite variety that is in Heaven and Earth, and all of them of equ • l birth-right with man, yet by the Law of our Maker, a yoke of subjection and service to man i • imposed upon them, so that man is, in a manner, set in the Center of all, to the end that all the several qualifications, and pe • fections that are in every creature, may concenter and meet together in him, • nd flow tow • rds him. Look upon all his particular • cts of care and favor towards thee, consider his judgments upon the world, upon the nation, or thine own person, put to thine ear, • nd he • r, this is the joint harmonious melody, this is the proclamation of all, that we sin not, that we sin not against so good a God, and so great a God, that were wickedness, thi • were madness. If he wound, it is that we sin not ; if he heal again, it is that we sin not. Doth he kill, it i • that we sin not. Doth he make • live, it is for the same end. Doth he shut up and restrain our liberty, either by bond • ge, or sickness, or other afflictions, why? he means that we sin not. Doth he open • gain, he means the same thing, that we sin no more, lest a worse thing befall us. Doth he make many to fall in battle, and turns the • ury of that upon us, the voice of it is, that you who are left behind, should sin no more. Is there severity towards others, and towards you clemency; O, the loud noise of that i • , sin not. But alas, the re • ult o • all is, that which is written, Psal. 78.32. Nevertheless they sinned still. In the midst of so many concurring testimonies, in the very throng of all the sounds and voices that all the works of God utter, in the very hearing of these, nevertheless to sin still, and not to return and inquire early after God, this is the plague and judgment of the Nation.

But let us return to the words, These things, &c. That which is written of the word of life, that whi • h was from the beginning, and was manifested unto us, that is written that we sin not : for, • aith this same Apostle, Chap. 3.5.8. And ye know that he was manifested to take away our sins, and 〈◊〉 him is no sin ; yea, for this very purpose (saith he) that he might destroy the works of the devil. Now, is this the great business, that drew the Son out of the Fathers bosom, to destroy the a • ch-enemy, and capital rebel, Sin, which, as to man, is a work of Satan's, because it f •• st entered in man by the Devils suggestion and counsel: all that misery and ruin, all these works of darkness and death, that Satan had by his malice and policy wrought upon, and in poor mankind, Jesus was m • nifest • d in the flesh without sin, to destroy and take away sin out of our fl • sh, and to abolish and destroy Satan's work, which he had built upon the ruins of God's work, of the image of God, and to repai • and renew that first blessed woe • k of God in man, Eph. 4.23, 24.

Now, O how cogent and pe • swading is this, one so high, come down so low, one dwelling in inaccessible glory, manifested in the flesh, in the infi • mity and weakness of it, to thi • very purpose, to repair the Creation, to make up th • ••• aches of it, to destroy sin, and • ave the sinner; what force is in this to persuade a soul that truly believe • it, not to sin ? for, may he think within himself, Shall I save that which Christ came to destroy? Shall I entertain and maintain that which he came to take away, and do what in me lies to 〈◊〉 the great end of his glorious and wonde • full descent from Heaven? Shall I join hands, and associat with my lusts, and war for them, which w • r agai • st my soul, and him that would save my • oul? Nay, 〈◊〉 us conclude (my beloved) within our own hearts, Is the Word and Prince of life manifested from Heaven, and come to ma •• and unmake that woe • k of Satan, that he may rescue me from • n • er his tyranny? • hen God forbid that I should help Satan to build up that which my Savior is •• sting down, and to make a prison for myself, and cords to bind me in it for everlasting. Nay, will a believing foul say, rather let me be a worker together with Christ, though saintly, ye • I resolve to wrestle with him, to pull down all the strong holds that Satan keeps in my nature, and so to congratulat and con • ent to him, who is the avenger and asserter of my liberty.

Then consider the greatest end, and furthest design of the Gospel, how it is inseparably chained and linked into this, that we sin not. We are called to fellowship with the Father and the Son, and herein is his glory, and our happiness. Now, this proclaims with a loud voice, that we sin not ; for, what more contrary to that design of union, and communion with God, then to sin, which disunits and discommunic • ts the soul •• om God. The nature of sin you know, it is the transgression of his Law, and so, it is the very just oppo • ition of the creatures will, to the will of him that made it. Now, how do ye imagine that this can consist with true friendship and fellowship, which looseth that conjunction of wills and affection • , which is the bond of true friendship, and the ground of fellowship, idem velle, atque idem nolle, hae • demum vera ami • i • ia est. The conspiracy of our desires and delights in one point with God's, this sweet co-incidency makes out communion, and what communion then with God, when that which his soul abhors, is your delight, and his delight is not your desire? What communion hath light with darkness ? Sin is darkness, all sin, but especially, sin entertained and maintained, sin that hath the full consent of the heart, and carrieth the whole man after it, that is Egyptian -darkness, an universal darkness over the soul; this being interposed between God and the soul, breaks off communion, eclipses that soul totally. Therefore, (my beloved) if you do believe that you are called unto this high dignity of fellowship with God, and if your souls be stirred with some holy ambition after it, consider that these things are written, that ye sin not ; consider what baseness is in it, for one that hath such a noble design, as fellowship with the highest, to debase his soul so far, and so low, as to serve sinful and fleshly lusts; there is a vileness and wretchedness in the service of sin, that any soul, truly and nobly principled, cannot but look upon it with indignation, because he can behold nothing but indignity in it. Shall I who am a Ruler (saith Nehemiah ) shall such a man as I flee? and who is there that being as I am would flee? Neh. 6.11. A Christian hath more reason, Shall such a man as I, who am born again to such a hope, and called to such a high dignity? Shall I, who aim and aspire so high as fellowship with God, debase and degrade myself with the vilest servitude? Shall I defile in that puddle again, till my own clothes abhor me, who aims at so pure and so holy a society? Shall I yoke in myself with drunkards, liars, swearers, and other slaves of sin? Shall I rank myself thus, and conform myself to the world, seeing there is a noble and glorious society to incorporat with, the King of kings to converse with daily? Alas, what are these worms that sit on Thrones to him? But f • r more, how base are these companions in iniquity, your Pot-companions? &c. And what a vile society is it, l • k • that of the bottomless pit, where Devils are linked together in chains?

SERMON XXIII·

IN the Gospel we have the most perfect provision against both these extremities, that souls • re ready to run upon, the rock of desperate distrust, and the quick-sands of presumpt • ous wantonness. It may be said to be a well ordered Covenant in all things, that hath caveated and cautioned the whole matter of our salvation, in such a way, that there is neither place for discouragement and down-casting, nor yet room for liberty in sin; there is no exemption from the obligation of God's holy Law, and yet there is pardon for the breach of it, and exemption from the curse; there is no peace, no capitulation with sin, and yet the • e is peace concluded with the sinner, who is, by that agreement, bound to fall out with sin; there is no dispensation for sin, and from the perfection of holiness, and yet there is an advocation for the sinner, which aims and studies after it; so that in sum, the whole Gospel is comprised in this, he speaks peace to his saints, but let them not return to folly▪ thou art made whole, sin no more ; All that is in th • Gospel saith this, that thou should sin no more ▪ But, because sin is necessarily incident, therefore all that is in the Gospel, speaks this further, though ye be su • prized in sin, yet believe; and this is the round that a believer is to walk into▪ to turn from pardon to purity, and from pollution again to pardon; for these voices and sounds a • e interchanged continually; If ye have sinned, believe in Christ the advocate and sacrifice, and, because ye have believed, sin not; but if ye be overtaken in sin, yet believe ; and as this is daily renewed, so the souls study and endeavor in them, should be daily renewed too. If ye have sinned, despair not; if ye be pardoned, yet presume not: after sin there is hope, it is true, because there is forgiveness with him ; but after forgiveness, there must be fear to offend hi • goodness; for there is forgiveness with him, that he may be feared, Psal. 130.4. And this is the situation I would desire my soul into, to be placed between hope of his mercy, and fear of sin, the saith of his favor, and the hatred of sin, which he will not favor; and how happy were a soul to be confined within these, and kept captive to its true liberty?

I spake a little before, how thes • fundamental truth • that a • e set down before, do all aim at this one mark, that we sin not ; Now I proceed. That declaration what God i • , verse. 5. is expressly directed to this purpose, and applied, verse. 6. God is light, and therefore sin not, for sin is darkness; he is light, for purity and beauty of holiness, and perfection of knowledge, that true light in which is no darkness, that unmixed light, all homogeneous to it • elf, therefore sin not, for that is a work of the night, and of the darkness, th • t proceeds from the blindness and estrangement of your minds, and ignorance of your hearts, and it cannot but prepare and fit you for these everlasting chains of darkness. Call God what you will, name all his names, stiles, and titles, spell all the characters of it, and still you may find it written at everyone of them, sin not ; Is he light ▪ then sin not. Is he life ? then sin not: for sin will separate you from his light and life, sin will darken your souls, and kill them. Is he love ? then sin not; God is love (saith John ) O then sin not against love. Hatred of any good thing is deformed, but the hatred of the beautiful image of the original love, that is monstrous: God is love, and in his love is your life and light; then to sin against him, it is not simple disobedience, nor is it only grosser rebellion, but it hath that abominable slain of ingratitude in it. Do you read, that it is written, he is holy, then sin not, for this is most repugnant to his holiness, his holy eyes cannot see it. Therefore if thou would have him look upon thee with favor, thou must not look upon sin with savor, or entertain it with delight; Is it written that he is great and powerful ? then sin not, that were madness. Is it written, that he is good and graciou • ? then it is written, that ye sin not ; for that were wick • dnesse: it were an unspeakabl • folly and madness, to of • end so great a God, that can so easily avenge himself; and it were abominable perverseness and wickedness, to sin against so good and gracious a God, who, though he may avenge himself, yet of • ers pardon and peace, and beseecheth us to accept it. Is he just ? then sin not; for he will not acquit the wicked, nor hold them guil • less, them, who do acquit themselves, and yet hold by their sins. And is he merciful ? then, O then, sin not, because he hath acquitted the • , because he is ready to blot out thy guilt; wilt thou sin against mercy, that must save thee? Again, is it written, that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin ? that is written, that ye sin not. It is true, it is written, because • e have sinned already, that ye may know how it may be pardoned. But moreover it is written, that ye sin no more, that so, more sin may be prevented, at least, deliberate continued walking in sin; so that this blood hath a twofold vertu • and use; To be the greatest encouragement to a soul troubled for sin, and the chiefest arg • meant and inducement for • soul not to sin▪ this medicine, or this plaster, hath two notable virtues, restorative, and preservative, to restore the bones that already are broken, through falling in sin ; and to preserve our feet from f • rther falling in sin. It h • th a healing virtue, for these brui • es that are in the soul; and besides, it is an antidot and sovereign preservative against the poison • nd infection of sin and the world. What motive is like this, the Son of God shed his blood for our sins, they cost a dear price, O, how precious was the ransom? More precious then Gold, and Silver, • nd precious Stones, because the redemption of the soul is so precious, that it would have cease • forever without it. Now, what soul can deliberately think of this, • nd receive it with any affection into the heart, but he shall find the most vehement persuasion against sin; he cannot but behold the heinousness • nd infinite evil that is in it, which required such an infinite recompense? And can a soul on that view run to the puddle and defile again, when he sees how dearly the fountain for cleansing was purch • sed? Can • believing heart have such treacherous thoughts harboured within him, to crucify afresh the Lor • of glory, and, as it were, to trample underfoot his blood ? No certainly, he that believes in this blood, cannot use it so dishonourably and basely; As it is written, that he sin not, so he read • it, and believes it, that he may not sin, as well 〈◊〉 because • he hath sinned. Many speak of this blood, and think they • pply it to th • cleansing of thei • sin past, but it is rather that they may sin with more liberty; • s if the end of vomiting up a surfeit of sin, were to surfeit more; and the end of washing, were nothing else but to defile again. Ce • tainly, this blood i • not for such souls, not one woe • d of comfort in the Word, not one drop of hope in the blood, to them who pretend to believe in Christ's blood, and continue in sin, as fresh and lively as eve • they did, nothing abated of their desires, or customs. But if we confess our sins, God will forgive (say you) and this we may do at any time, and this we do daily. Nay, but (saith John) this is written that you sin not ; not to encourage you to sin. It is not recorded for this end, that you may live after your own imaginations and former customs, with • ecurity and peace, upon this presumption, that pardon is easily procurable, if • say, God have mercy upon me, ere I die. Do not deceive yourselves, for it is written for the just contrary, that you sin no more, and return no more to folly. If he had said, if we sin, though we confess, yet he • s just to punish us, you would then be driven to desperation, and from that, to • desperate conclusion, since we must be punished however, let • s not punish ourselves here, in mortifying our flesh; Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we shall die : Di • we must, let us deserve it; for where there is no hope, there is no help for reformation. But now, when there is such an unexpected proposal of grace, when God who is free • to punish us, becomes indebted by his promise to • orgive our debts, we humbly submitting to him, and conf • ssing our guil • inesse, this su • p • is • l of clemency and moderation, should, yea, certainly will overcome any heart that truly believes it, and conquer it to his love and obedience. The more easily he forgive sin, the more h • rdly will a believing heart be d • awn to sin. You know any ingenuou • spi • it will more easily be conquered by kindness and conde • cendency, then severity and violence; these cords of love, are the cord • of a ma • , • uited to the nature of man in whom the • e is any spa • kle of ingenuity remaining; how often have men been engaged and overcome by clemency and goodness, who could not be conquered by force of arms? Enemies have been made frien • s by thi • means, • uch power is in it, to knit hearts together. Augustus, when he was acquainted with the conspi • acy of one of his chief Minions Cinna, whom he had made a f • iend of an enemy, by kindness and courtesy, takes the s • me way, to make of a traitor a constant friend; he doth not punish him, as he had done others, but calls for him, • nd declare • unto him his vile ingratitude, that when he had given him life and liberty, he should conspire to take away his Princes life; well, when he is confounded and astonished, and cannot open his mouth, saith Augustus, I give thee thy life • gain, first an open enemy, and now a traitor; yet from this day, let an inviol • ble f • iendship be bound up between us, and so it proved: for this way of dealing did totally ove • come his heart, and blot out all • editious though •• . But O, how incomparably greater is his condescendency and clemency, whose Person is • o high and sacred, whose Laws are so just • nd holy, and we so ba • e • nd wretched, to pardon • uch infinite guilt, rebellion, and treachery, against such an i • finite M • jesty, and that, when a soul doth but begin to blush, and be ashamed with itself, and cannot open its mouth; I say, this rare and unparalleled goodness and me • cy being considered, cannot but tame and daunt the wildest • nd most savage nature; wild be • sts a • e not brought in subjection and tamed, but by gentle usage; it is not fierceness and violence can cure their fierceness, but meekness, and condescendency, to follow their humors, and soft dealing with them; as • rod is not bowed by great strength, but broken, even so, these things, of the promise of pardon for sin, of the grace and re • dinesse of God to pardon upon the easiest terms, are written for this end, that our wild and undaunted natures may be tamed, and may bow and submit willingly to the yoke of his obedience, and may henceforth knit such a sacred bond of friendship • nd fellowship with God, as may never be broken.

But, say ye, who is he that sins not? Who can s • y, my heart is pure, and my way is clean? Who can say, I h • ve no sin? And therefore that cannot be expected which you crave. Nay, but saith the Apostle, These things I write unto you, that ye sin not. Because • in is in all, there • ore you excuse yourself in your sins, and takes liberty to sin; but the very contrary, is the intent of the declaring unto us that we have • in▪ he shows that none want it, not that ye may be the more indulgent towa • ds it, but the more watchful against it. It is not to make you secure, but rather to give you alarm; even the best and holiest, it is an ala • m to them, to tell them that sin is in confintis, in their very borders, th • t the enemy is even in their quarters, ye • , in their bosom; Ce • tainly, this should so much the mo • e excite us against it, and a • m us for it every moment, lest either by fraud, or fo • ce, by sec • et undermining, or open violence, it draw us away from God. This word, If we say we have no sin, we lie : It is a watch-word given to men, a warning to enter in consideration of themselves, for the enemy being within, there is no flying from him, we carry him about with us, and being within, he is less di • ce • ned; and therefore we ought to awake, and so walk circumspectly, with eyes in our head, lest we be su • prized at unawars, either in that time we know not of, or at that place we least su • pect. And to others of you, who have never attained any victory over your sin • , and scarce have a discerning of them; I would only say this, that the unive • sality of sins inhabitation, or being in all men, even the godly, will not excuse sins domination and reign in you. It i • strange, that since the holiest have need of continual watching against this bosom enemy, that ye who have both little knowledge and strength, should think ye may live securely, and not trouble yourselves. I • they have need to take heed, how much more have ye, since it is but in them, but it reigns in you.

SERMON XXIV·

THere is here a sad supposition, but too certain, that any man may sin, yea, that all men will sin, even those who have most communion with God, and interest in the blood of Christ, yet they are not altogether exempted from this fatal lot of mankind, it is incident even to them to sin, and too frequently incident; but yet we have a happy and sweet provision, for indemnity from the hazard of sin: We have an advocate with the Father. Grant the probability, ye • , the necessity and certainty of that supposal, If any man do sin, yet there is as much certainty of indemnity from sin, as of necessity of falling into sin. It is not more sure, that we shall carry about with us matter of sorrow and mourning; but that it is a • sure, that we have always without us, matter of rejoicing.

Let me then speak a word to these particulars: First, that sin is incident to the best, even after all persuasions, convictions, resolutions, desires, and design • to avoid sin. Next, that it is usual for sins after me • cy, conviction, and resolution to appear so heinous, that they may seem to over-top the mercy o • God, and th • merit • of Christ ; a soul is most apt to be troubled with guilt contracted after pardon, and a desire of purity. But withal, I would in the last place represent to you, that there is no ground of despair, or discouragement for such an one, though there be ground 〈◊〉 humiliation and mou • ning; there i • a provision made in the Gospel against these continually incident • e • rs, there is a • ecurity against the hazard of surp • izing sins, and that this comfort belongs only to such souls, as un • eignedly desire not to sin, and are in some measu • e persuaded by the grace of God not to sin; not to them who willingly give up themselves to their own lusts. It is a common doctrine a • any, that sin hath some lodging in every man's he • t and flesh, and is not totally cast out, but only bound with chains within, that it do not exe • cise its old dominion over a believer. But I fear, the most common t • uths, though t • ey be most substantial in themselves, yet are but circumstantial in our apprehensions, and very r • rely and ext • aordinarily have place in t • e deeper and more serious though • ts of our hearts: they are commonly confessed, it is true, but as seldom considered, I am sure; for who did t • uly ponder the inclinablenesse of our nature to sin, the strong propension of the heart to evil, the deceitfulness of sin itself, and the many circumstantial helps, and additions it gets to its strength, but he would stand in awe, and watch seriously over himself. I dar say, many sin, • ather because of a misapprehended immunity from it, and a miss-reckoning of their own measure and strength, then because of the strength of sin it sel • . I know no one thing makes sin so strong 〈◊〉 this, that we do not apprehend our own weakness, and so give over watch • ulnesse, which is the greatest and best part of our armor of defense, when it is done in faith, and this watch kept on the Tower of the Lord's Promises; The apprehension of our escaping the pollutions of the world, and of some strength to resist them, this adds no more strength to us, but diminisheth and taketh from our vigilancy, and so exposeth us, as it were, naked and secure, to the cruelty of our adversary. I would wish every Christian to be thoroughly acquainted, and often conversant in two Books of Sophistry, I may so term them, the deceitfulness of his own heart, and the deceivableness of sin, Ier. 15. and Heb. 3.13. These are the Volumes he would daily tu • n over, to learn to discern the Sophistications, self-flatteries, blindness, darkness, and self-love of his own heart; to take off the deceiving mask of pretences and appearances of good, and behold sensibly the true and real inclinations of the heart to wickedness, to passion, pride, uncleanness, malice, envy, and all these affections of the flesh: to find out the true beating of the pulse of the heart; and indeed this just discerning and discovery of the thief in the soul, is a great part of his arraignment; for if sin lie under the view of an eye that hates it, and loves God, much of its power and virtue, which lay in darkness, is taken away. I press this the more, because I verily apprehend it to be the plague of many Christians, who have some general insight into the matter of good and evil, and espy some more gross corruption in themselves, and have some affection to good, yet this estrangednesse to our own hearts, and the vein or strain of them, the not unbowelling of our hidden affection • , and not discerning of the poison of pride, self-love, love of the world, and such like lusts, which are intermingled in all that we do, and spread, as it were, universally through the whole man; this, I say, makes most of us be subject to so many surprises by sin; we are often routed before we draw up, and often conquered ere we consider: this makes us such unproficients in mortif •• ation, so that scarce any sin is killed, while the roots of all sin lies hid under the ground from u • . Then withal, I desire you to study how deceivable a thing sin is, how many deceitful fair pretences it is covered with, it hath the voi • e of Jacob, but the hands of Esau ; look what it is that is pleasant or • uitable to our natural spi • its, it insinuate • itself always under the shadow of that, and if there be not much heedfulness and attention, and much expe • ience o • the wiles of that subtle one, it is a great hazard to be catched with it un • dvisedly, while we clasp about another thing, which is presented as a bait and allurement. Now, is it any wonder that a poor soul be drawn to sin often, when our enemy doth not • or the most part pro • esse hostility, but friendship, and under that color pleads admission, within our Ports; and besides, we have • treacherous friend in our bosom, that betrays us into his hands, that is, our own deceitful hearts: These things I mention, to put you i • remembrance of what condition you are in, in this world, and what posture you should be into; watch, (I say) and when ye have done all, stand with your loins girt ; and though you cannot possibly escape all sin, yet certainly it is not in vain thus to set against it, and keep a watch over it, for by this means you shall escape more sin, and sin less; as he that aims at the mark, though he do not hit it, yet he shall ordinarily come nearer it, then he that shoot • only at random; & as the Army that is most vigil • nt and watchful, though they cannot prevent all l • sses and hazards, yet commonly they are not found at such a loss, as those who are proud, • onfident, and secure.

Now, as it is suppo • ed, that sin is ordinarily incident to the child o • God, so it is especially to be caveated, that he despair not in his sins, for it is imported in this provision, that the believer is in great haza • d upon new lapses into sin, either of daily incursion, or of a grosser nature, to be discouraged; As there is so much corruption in any man's heart, as will turn the grace of God into w • ntonnesse, and incline him upon the propo • all of free grace, to presume to take liberty to the flesh, so, that same corruption upon another occasion, works another way, upon the supposal of new sins, aggravated with preceeding mercy and grace in God, and convictions and resolution • in him, to drive him into despondency, and dejection of spirit, as if there were no pardon for such sins. And indeed, it is no wonder if the soul be thus set upon, if we set • side the consideration of the infinite grace of God, that far surpasseth the ill deserts of men. To speak of the very nature of the thing itself, there is no sin in its own nature more unpardonable, then sin after pardon; nothing so heinous, aggravated with so many high circumstances, which mingleth it with the woe • st ingredients, as this sin, after so much grace revealed in the Gospel, to the end that we may not sin. Sins washed so freely, in so precious a sountain, and yet to defile again; sins forgiven so readily, and easily, the debt whereof, in Justice the whole creation wa • not • ble to pay, and yet, to offend so gracious a Father ; a soul being thoroughly convinced of the vanity, folly, and madness of sin, of the deceitfulness and baseness of its pleasures, and set in a posture against it, as the most deadly enemy, and yet after all this, to be foiled, deceived, and ensnared; Here, I say, are very piercing considerations, which cannot but set the challenge ve • y deep into the heart of a Christian, and wound him sore; how will he be filled with shame • nd con • usion of face, if he look upon God? every look or beam of whose countenance, represents into the soul the vilest and most abominable visage of sin; or if he look into himself▪ there is nothing but self-condemning there, he finds his own conscience staring him, as a thousand witnesses; thus the soul of a believer being environed, he is ready to app • ehend, that though God should have pardoned the sins of his ignorance, yet that there is more difficulty in this, to pardon his returnings to folly, and therefore are some put to harder exercise, and greater terrors after conversion, then in the time of it; the sins of ignorance being, as it were, removed as a cloud, and scored out in a heap, but the sins of knowledge after mercy, lying more distinctly and clearly in the view of the soul; it is more difficult to blot them out of the conscience, and sprinkle the heart from an evil conscience: These thing • I spe • k to you for this reason, that you may be afraid to sin. I suppose that there is no h • z • rd of eternal damnation by sin, grant that you know beforehand, that if you sin, there i • yet forgiveness with him, and there is no hazard of pe • ishing by it, yet, su • e I am, it is the most foolish adventure in the world, to t • ke liberty on that account, for though there be in • empnity that way, as to thy eternal estate, yet I am persuaded, that there is more damnage another way, in thy spiritual estate in this woe • ld, then all the gains o • sin can countervail: There is a necessary loss of peace, and joy, and communion of the Holy Ghost ; it is inevitable in the ve • y o • dinary and natural cou • se and connection of thing • , but that sin, that way indulged, will eclipse thy soul, and bring some darkness of sorrow, and horror over it; to speak after the man • of man, and in the way of reason itself, the inte • tainment of that which God hates, will dep • ive thee of mo • e solid joy and sweetness in him, then all the pleasures of sin could affo • d. Therefore I dare not sa • to you (as one too unadvisedly expresseth it) Fear not, th • ugh you do sin, of any hurt that can come by these sins, for if y • u sin, it shall do you no hurt at all: I say, this were indeed but to make you too bold with sin. I had rather represent unto you, that though ye be secured in your eternal estate, and there can come no condemnation that way, yet there is much hurt comes by sin, even in this world, and sure, I think it a ve • y rational and Christian inducement, to prevail w • th a Christian not to sin, to tell him that he shall make a foolish bargain by it, for he shall lo • e much more then he can gain. Is there no hurt or loss incident to men, but eternal perdit • on? Nay, my beloved, there is a loss Christians may sustain by sinning freely, which all the combined advantages of sin cannot compense; Is not one hours communion with God, is not the peace of your own consciences, and the joy of the Spirit, such inestimable Jewels, that it were more suitable for a man to sell the world, and buy them, then to sell them, and buy • poor momentary trifling contentment, which hath a sting in th • tail of It, and leaves nothing but vexation after it? O these bruises in David's bones, these breaches in his spirit, that loss of the joy of his salvation ! Let these teach you who are escaped the great hurt of sin, to fear at least to be hurt by it this way, more then ever you can expect to be helped by it.

But then, I desire to add this in the third place, that there is provision made against th • discouragement of these souls that desire not to sin, and yet sin against their desire. If the challenge I spoke of, be written in thy conscience, as it were with the point of a Diamo • d, deeply ingr • ven; yet my beloved, consider, that if any man sin, we have an advocate, &c. There is an express caution against thy discouragement▪ certainly our Savior hath provided for it, since the case is so incident, and the supposition so ordinary, it is not conceivable that he hath not caveated and • ecured thy salvation in such cases: for he knew certainly be • ore he pardoned thee, and visited thee at fi • st, that thou was to be subject unto this necess • ry burden o • sin, and that it would often times molest and trouble you, and sometimes prevail over you; all this he knew, that when ye should order your forces, and draw out against sin, with the greatest desire and resolution, that yet you might be soiled unexpectedly; and this was not unknown to him, when he shown mercy at first; there • or • , since his love is unchangeable, and his wisdom (being infinite,) • aith it should be so, he would never have cast his love on • uch persons, if these thing • which were then before him, could make him change. Now, I grant there is more wonder in the pardon of following sins, then in the fi • st pardon; and therefore you should still love more, and praise more; but what is this wonder, to the wonder of hi • grace? it is swallowed up in that higher wonder, For his thoughts and ways are not like ours, hi • voice is, Return thou back-sl • ding sinner to thy first Husband, though • gh thou hast played the harlot. Therefore, I desire that whatsoever be presented in that kind, to aggravat your sins, let it humble you more indeed, and make you hate sin, but let it not hinder you to think as highly of his mercy and grace, and to set that in the Heaven • above it.

SERMON XXV·

IT is the natural office of the conscience to accuse a man in evil doing, as every man by sin is liable to the judgment of the supreme Court of Heaven, so he is likewise subject to the in • eriour Court of his own Conscience; for the most high God hath a Deputy within every man's breast, that not only is a Witness, but a Judge, to fasten an accusation, and pronounce a sentence upon him according to the L • w of God. And while it is so, that a man is accused in both Courts, at the supreme Tribunal, and the lower House o • a man's own Conscience, when man's accuser is within him, and God his righteous Judge above him, Who can come in to plead such a man • cause? A person self-condemned, who shall plead for his absolution? If he cannot but accuse himself, and stop his mouth, being guilty before • God of the transgressions of all his Law, then what place for an advocate to excuse him, or defend his cause? And who is it that can enter in the lifts with God, who, because the supreme and highest Judge, must be both Judge and Party? Where shall a days-man be found to lay hi • hands on both, and advocate the desperate▪ like cause of sinners? Truly here we had been at an eternal stand, and here had the business stuck forever, for anything that the Creation could imagine, had not the infinite grace and wisdom of Go • opened themselves to mankind, in opening▪ a door of hope to broken and out-law sinners; and behold, here is the provision is made for the sec •• ity and salvation of lost souls, there is One able and mighty to save, a person found out fit for this advocation, who taketh the broken cause of sinners in hand, and pleads it out, and makes out Justice to be for them, and not against them, If any man sin, we have an advocate, &c.

There is one thing impo • ted, that sin maketh a man li • ble to a charge and accusation, and brings him under the hazard of judgment. Indeed, its hard • nough to endure an accusing c • nscience, and a spirit wounded with the apprehen • ion of wrath; When our Savior would express great ••• liction, he doth it thu • , A man • enemies shall be those of his own house. If a domestic enemy be • o ill, what shall a bosom-enemy be, when a man • accuser is not only beside▪ him, but within him, not only in the house with him, but in the field too, carried about with him whithe • soever he goeth, so that he can have no retiring or withdrawing • place from it▪ Indeed, some poor soul • make a mad escape from under the challenge of their consciences, they get away from their keepers to more excess in sin; or make some vain diversion to comp • ny▪ and other things o • the world, but the end thereof shall be more • itternesse, for that will not still sleep within them, but shall awake upon them with more terrou • , and one day put them in such a posture, that all the comforts of the world shall be but as a drop of water to a man in a burning fever, or as oil to a flame. But, as I told you, that is not the greatest matter, to be self-accused, and self-condemned, if there were not a higher T • ibunal, which this process originally flows from, one greater then the conscience, who speaks to us in his Word, and hath written his charge and sentence against us, and this is it which • ets the soul most on edge, and it is but the very apprehension of that higher judgment, which is the gall and wormwood, the po •• on of these challenges in the conscience. I would desire you to look upon this, and consider that there is a sentence past in the Word of God upon all your actions, that the wrath of God is revealed in the Scriptures as due to you, however you may flatter yourselves in your sins, and fancy an immunity from wrath, though you live in sin: I wish ye were once persuaded of this, that all sinners must once appear before God's Tribunal, and hear the righteous sentence of the duenesse of punishment pronounced; I say, all must once appear, either to hear and believe it, or to see it executed; the wisdom of God requires, that all men's guilt, which is a transgression of the Law ▪ should once come to a judicial trial, and decision by the Law; and either this must be done in your own consciences here, th • t ye may sist yourselves before him, and take with your sins, and humble yourselves in his sight, and then the matter is put over upon a Mediator, or else you must give him leave, nay, he will take leave to cite you to appear, to see the sentence executed, which was pronounced, since ye would not apply it to your own heart • . O, happy is that soul that anticipat • that great day of final judgment, by a previous self-judgment, and self-t • yal. Well then▪ hath the Scripture • included all under sin, that all men might be guilty, and every mouth stopped before God, Rom. 3.19. What shall we do then? Since righteousness and justice is against us, who can plead for us? It would seem, that there could be no relaxing, no repealing, no dispensing with this Law, at least, that, i • there be anything of that kind, that righteousness and judgment can have no hand in it▪ Yet, behold what follows, We have an advocate, &c. And an Advocate his office is, to sue out the Cliants right, from principles of Justice, elsewhere Christ hath the office of a Judge, here is an Advocate for the party, and both of these may have a comfortable con • ideration: John. 5.22. The Father judgeth none, but hath committed all judgment to the Son. And yet, here we have an Advocate with the Father, and that is, with the Father as Judge: these do not cross one another, but to make out our abundant consolation, that one entire office of our Savior is represented under all these various 〈◊〉 suited to our capacity; A Judge he is, yea, his Tribunal is the highest and • upream, from which there is no appeal, the ultimat decision lies here of all capital, or soul ca • es or causes. It is true, the Father doth not wholly divest himself of Judgment and Authority, in the matters of life and death, for the Gospel is his contrivance, as it was the Sons, but Christ is, as it were, substituted his Vicegerent, in the administration of the second Covenant. You read of a preparatory Tribunal erected in the Word by God the Creator, that is, of the Law, which condems us. Now, such is the mercy and grace, and free love of God, that he hath relaxed that sentence, as to the persons, he hath not taken that advantage which in Justice he had against us, but upon some valuable considerations hath committed to the Son a royal power of prescribing new Laws of life and death, and new terms of salvation, and Christ, having at his Fathers will, satisfied the Law, in what it did threaten us, he is, as it were, in compensation of such a great service, made Lord and King both of the dea • and living, Rom. 14.9. And all things in Heaven and earth are given to him, Mat. 18.29. Joh. 13▪ 3. And therefore, what ever soul is agrieved under the accusation and charge of the Law, hath liberty, yea, and is called to it, of duty, to appeal unto this new erected Tribunal where Christ sits to dispense life, according to the terms of grace; and he may be sure, the Father, will not judge him •• co • ding to the Law, if t • e Son absolve him in the Gospel.

Now, with this it consists, that he who hath all final judgment in hi • hand, yet he is ou • advocate in another conside • ation; as we consider God the •• there sitting upon the Tribunal o • Justice, and p • oceeding acco • ding to the te • ms and • enor o • hi • fi • s • Law, o • Covenant of life an • death; then Christ come • in, with hi • advocation for poor sinners, and sustain • their persons, and maintains their cause, even from the p • inciples of Justice▪ he presents his satis • acto • y •• c • ifice, and pleads that we are not to be charged with that punishment that he hath suffe • ed, b • cause he hath indeed fulfi • led our legal righteousness, and by this means, the Laws mo • th i • sto • t, which h • d stopped our mouth, and the • inner i • 〈◊〉 , who was • ound guilty. Thu • , you see the salvation and absolution of believers, is wonde • fully •• cu • ed▪ • or the • e is a sentence • or it, in the Co •• t of the Gospel, pronounced by the S •• , but l • st▪ you think he should usu • p such an absolute power, then hear, that he i • an advo • ate to plead out the equity and justice of it, be • o • e the very Tribunal of the Law, that the Law it s • lf being the • ule, the Father himself who made the Law being the Judge, the poor soul that flies unto him as a • e • uge, may be saved, since what is craved of us, it gets in him, and is as fully satisfied that way, as it could have be • n by us: therefore, that same righteousness which bids condemn the sinner, commands to save the believer in Christ, though a sinner. What shall a • oul then • ea • , who shall condemn? it is Christ that justifieth, • or he is Judge of li • e and death, and that is much; but it is the Father that justifieth, and that is more; whatsoever Tribunal you be cited unto, you may be sure; Is it the Gospel? then the Son is Judge. Is it the • awe? then the Son is advocate. He will not only give li • e him • el • , but see that his Father do it, and wa •• and you from all back-haza • ds. Nay, be • ore the matter shall misgive, as he comes down from off the Throne, to stand at the Bar and plead for sinners, who devolve themselves upon him, so he will not spare, if need require, to degrade him • el • fu • there (if I may so say) and of an advocate become a supplicant. And truly he ceased not in the days of his flesh to pray for us, with strong cries and tears, Heb. 7. And now he lives still to make intercession for us. He can turn from the plea of justice, to the intercession and supplication of mercy, and if st • ict justice will not help him, yet grace and savor, he is sure will not disappoint him.

There is a divine contexture of justice and mercy, in the business of man's redemption, and there is nothing so much declare • in • init wisdom, as the m • thod, order, and frame of it. Mercy might have been shown to sinners, in gracious and •• ee pardon of their sins, and dispensing with the punishment due to their persons, yet the Lord's justice and • a • th • ulnesse in that fi • st commination, might be wronged and disappointed by it, if no satisfaction should be made for such infinite offenses, i • the Law were wholly made void, both to the punishment, as also to the pe • son: There • ore, in the infinite deeps of God's wisdom there was a way • ound out to declare both mercy and justi • e, to make both to shine glo • iously in this woe • k, and indeed, that is the great wonder of men and Angels, such a conjunction, or constellation of divine attributes in one work. And in • eed, it is only the most happy and • avourable aspect, that we can behold the divine M • jesty into; The P • almist, Psal. 85. expects muc • good from this conjunction o • the Celestial Att • ibutes, and prognostics salvation to be near hand, and all good thing • , as the immediate effect of it. There is a meeting there, as it were, of some hon • urable personages, verse. 10, 11. as are in Heaven; the meeting is strange, if you consider the parties, mercy and truth, righteousness and peace, i • mercy and peace had met thus •• i • ndly, it had been less wonder, but it would seem, that righteousness and truth should stand off, or meet only to reason and dispute the business with me • cy: But here is the wonder, mercy and truth meets in a •• iendly manner, and kisseth one another, there's a perfect agreement and harmony amongst them, about this matter of our sa • vation; The • e was a kind of pa • ting at man's fall, but they met again at Christ's birth; here is the uniting principle, truth springing out of the earth, because he who is the truth & the life, was to • pring out of the earth, therefore righteousness will look down from Heaven, and countenance the business, and this will make all of them meet with a loving salutation.

Now, as this was the contexture of divine attributes in the business of redemption, so our Lord and Savior taketh upon him divers names, offices, and exercises, different functions for us, because he knoweth that his Father may justly exact of man personal satisfaction, and hath him at this disadvantage, and that he might have re • used to have accepted any other satisfaction from another person, there • ore, he puts on the habit and • orm of a supplicant, and intercessor for us, and so, while he was in the flesh, he ceased not to offer up prayers and supplications with strong cries and tears, and h • is said still to make intercession for us •• as he learned obedience, though a Son, so he learned to be a humble supplicant, though equal with God ; because our claim depends wholly on grace, he came off the bench, and stood at the bar, not only pleading, but praying for us, entreating savor and mercy to us; and then, he personats an Advocate in another consideration, and pleads upon terms of justice, that we be pardoned, because his Father once having accepted him in our stead he gave a satisfaction in value equal to our debt, and pe • formed all that we were personally bond to, so then, you may unde • stand, how it is, pa • tly an act of j • stice, partly an act of me • cy, in God to • o • give • in to believers, though indeed mercy and grace is the predominant ingredient, because love and grace was the very fi •• t rise, and spring of sending a Savior and Redeemer, and so the original of that very pu • chase and prize, He freely sent his Son, and freely accepted him in our stead ; but once standing in our • oo • , justice craves that no more be exacted of u • , since he hath done the business himself.

A sinner stands accused in his own Conscience, and before God ▪ therefore, to the end that we get no wrong, there is a twofold Advocate given us, one in the E • rth, in our Consciences, another in the Heavens with God▪ Christ is gone up to the highest T • ibunal, where the cause receives a definitive sentence, and there he manageth it above, so that though Satan should obtrude upon a poor soul, a w • ong sentence in its own con • cience, an • bring down a false and count • feit Act, as it were, extracted out of the Register of H •• ven, whereby to deceive the poor soul, • nd con • emn it in itself; yet there is no hazard above, he dare not appear there, be • ore the highest Court, for he hath already succumb'd on 〈◊〉 , when Christ was here, the Prince of the worl • was judged and cast out, and so he will never once put in an accusation into Heaven, because he knoweth our • aith • ul Advocate 〈…〉 n • thing can pass without hi • know • edge and consent. And this is a great come • o • t, that all infe • iour sentences in thy perplexed con • ci • n • e, which Satan through violence hath imposed upon thee▪ are r ••• indeed above in the high •• Court, and shall no • stand to thy prejudi •• , whoever th •• • e that desires to • orsake sin, and come to Jesus Christ.

But how doth Ch • ist plead? can he plead us not guilty? can he excuse, or de • end our sins? no, that is not the way, that accusation of the Word and Law against us is con • essed, is proven, all is • ndenyably clear; but he pleads satisfied, though guilty; he presents his satisfactory sacrifice, and the favor of that, perfumes Heaven, and pacifieth all: he shows God's bond, and discharge of the recept of the sum of our d • bt, and thus, is he cleared, and we absolved. Therefore, I desire you, whoever you are that are challenged fo • sin, and the transgression of the Law, if ye would have a solid way of satisfaction, and peace to your consciences, take with your guiltiness, plead no • , not guilty, do no • excuse, or extenuat, but aggravat your guilt; nay, in this you may help Satan, accuse yourselves, and say, that you know more evil in yourselves, then he doth, and open that up before God, but in the mean time▪ consider how it is managed above, plead thou also, sati • fied in Christ, though guilty; and so, thou may say to thy accuser, if thou hast anything to object against me, w • y I may not be saved, though • a sinner, thou must go up to the highest Tribunal to propone it, thou must come before my Judge and Advocate above, but for as much, as thou dost not • ppear there, it is but a lie, and a murdering lie.

Now, this is the way, that the Spirit advocats for us in our Consciences, John 14 and 15.26. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 it is rendered here Advocate, the • e Comforter ; both suit well, and may be conjoined in one, and given to both, for both a • e comfortable Advocates, Christ with the Father, and the Spirit with us; Christ is gone above for it, and he sent the Spirit in his stead, as God hath • deputy-judge in man, that is, m • n • Conscience, so the Son our Advocate with God, hath • deputy-advocate to plead the cause in our Conscience, and this he doth, partly by opening up the Scripture • to us, and making us understand the way of Salvation in them, partly manifesting his own works▪ and God's gifts in us, by a super-added light of testimony, and partly by comforting us against all outward and inward sorrows. Sometimes he pleads with the soul against Satan, not guilty, for Satan is a slanderous and false accuser, and cares not calumniari fortiter ut aliquid hareat, to calumniat stoutly, and he knoweth something will stick. He will not only object known sins and transgressions of the Law, but his man • is, to cast • mist upon the eye of the soul, and darken all its graces, and then • e brings • o • th his process, that they have no grace, no • aith in Christ, no love to God, no sor • ow fo • sin; in such a ca • e, its the Spirits office, to plead it out to our conscience • , that we a • e not totally guilty as we are charged, and this is not so much a clearing of ourselves, as a vindication of the free gifts of God, which lie under his asp • sion and reproach. Indeed, if there be a great stress here, and for wise reasons the Spirit forbear to plead out this point, but leave a poor soul to puddle it out alone, and scrape its evidences together in the da • k, I say, if thou find this too ha • d for thee to plead, not guilty, then my advice is, that ye wave and suspend that question, yield it not wholly, but rather leave it entire, and do as if it were not: suppose that article and point were gained against thee, what would thou do next? Certainly, thou must say, I would then seek grace and faith from Him who giveth liberally, I would then labor to receive Christ in the promises, I say, do that now, and thou taketh a short and compendious way, to win thy cause, and overcome Satan; let that be thy study, and he hath done with it.

But in any challenge about the transgression of the Law, or desert of eternal wrath, the Spirit must not plead, not guilty, for thou must confess that, but in as far as he driveth at a further conclusion, to drive thee away from hope and confidence, to despondency of spirit, in so far the Spirit clear • up unto the conscience that this doth no ways • ollow, • rom that confession of guiltiness, since there is a Savior that hath satisfied for it, and invites all to come and accept him for their Lord and Savior.

SERMON XXVI·

THere i • no settlement to the spirit of a sinner, that is once touched with the 〈◊〉 of his sin • , and apprehen • ion of the j • stice and w • ath of God, but in some clea • , and dist ••• ct understanding the grounds of consolation in the Gospel, and the method of sal • ation • e • ealed in it. There i • no solid peace-giving answer to the challenge • of the Law, and thy own conscience, but in the advocation of Jesus Christ, the Savior of sinners, and therefore, the Apostle propone • it here, • or the comfort of believers, who • re incident to be su • prized, through the suddenness of sin, and often deceived by the subtlety of • atan, wh • se souls desires, and sincere ende • vours are, to be kept from iniquity, and therefore, they are made to groan within themselves, and sometimes sadly to conclude again •• themselves, upon the prevailing of sin, here i • the cordial (I say) he presents to them, Jesus Christ standing before the Bar o • Heaven, and pleading his • atisfaction, in the name of such souls, and so suiting forth an exemption and discharge for them from their sins; so he presents us with the most comfo • table a • pect, Christ standing between us and Justice, the Mediator interposed between us and the Father, so that there can come no harm to such poor sinners, except it come through his sides first, and no sentence can pass against them, unless he succumb in his righteous cause in Heaven.

The strength of Christ's Advocation for believers, consists partly, in his qualification • or the office, partly in the ground and • oundation of his cause. His qualification we have in this verse. the ground and • oundation of his pleading in the next verse. in that he is a propitiation for our sins, and upon this very ground, his Advocation is both just and effectual.

Every word holds out some fitness, and therefore every word drops out consolation to a troubled soul. [With the Father, speaks out the relation he and we stand in to the Judge, he hath not to do with an austere and rigid Judge, that is implacable, and unsatisfiable, who will needs adhere peremptorily to the letter of the Law, for then we should be all undone, if there were not some pate • nal affection, and fatherly clemency and moderation in the Judge, if he were not so disposed, as to make some candid interpretation upon it, and in some manner to relax the sentence, as to our personal suffering, we could never stand before him, nor needed any Advocate appear for us: But here is the great comfort, he is Christ's Father, and our Father, so himself told us, John. 20.17. I go to my Father and your Father, and my God and your God. And therefore we may be persuaded that he will not take advantage, even that he hath in justic • of us, and though we be apprehensive of his anger, in our failings and offenses, and this makes us often to be both afraid and • shamed to come to him, measuring him after the manner of men, who are soon angry, and often implacably angry, we imagine that he cannot but repel and put back our petition • , and therefore we have not the boldness to offer them; yet he ceaseth not to be our Father, and Christ's Father, and if ye would have the character of a father, look Ier. 31.18. how he stands affected towards ashamed and confounded Ephraim, how his bowels move, and his compassions yearn towards him, as his pleasant child: The truth is, in such a case in which we • re captives against our will, and stumbles against our purpose, be pities us, as a Father doth hi • children, knowing that we are but dust and grass, Psal. 103.13, 14, 15, 16, 17. See the excellent and sweet application of this relation, by the Psalmist, if it stir him, it stirs up rather the affection of pity, then the passion of anger, he pities his poor child when he cries out, of violence and opp • ession. And therefore, there is great hopes that our Advocate Jesus Christ, shall prevail in his suits for us, because he with whom he deals, the Father, he loves him, and loves us, and will not stand upon strict terms of justice, but rather attemper all with mercy and love. He will certainly hear his well-beloved Son, for in him he is well pleased, his soul rests and takes complacency in him, and for his sake he • dopts us to be his children; and therefore he will both hear him in our behalf, and our prayers too, for his Names sake.

But this is superadded to qualify our Advocate, he is the Christ of God, anointed for thi • ve • y pu • pose, and so hath a fair and lawful calling to this office, he takes not this honor to himself, but was called thereto of his Father, Heb. 5.4. As he did not make himself a Priest, so he did not int • ude upon the Advocate • ship, but he that said, Thou art my Son, called him to it. If a man had never so great ability to plead in the Law, yet except he be licenciat and graduat, he may not take upon him to plead a cause. But our Lord Jesus hath both skill and authority, he hath both the ability and the office, was not • self-intruder, or usurper, but the Council of Heaven did licenciat him, and graduat him for the whole office of Mediatorship : In which there i • the greatest stay and support for a sinking soul, to know that all this frame and fabric of the Gospel was contrived by God the Father, and that he is master-builder in it, since it is so, there can nothing control it, or shake it, since it is th • very will of God, with whom we have to do, that a Mediator should st • nd between him and u • : and he hath such a mind to clear poor souls, th • t he freely chooseth and giveth them • n able Advocate, it is a great token that he hath a mind to s • ve as many as come and submit to him, and that he is ready to pardon, when he prepares so fit an Advocate for us, and hath not left us alone to plead our own cause.

But the anointing of Christ for it, implies both 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , potentium, & potestatem, the gifts for it, as well as the authority, and the ability, as well • s the office; for God h • th singularly qualified him for it, given him the Spirit above measure, Isai. 61.1. He received gifts not only to distribute to men, but to exercise for men, and their advantage, Psal. 68.18. And therefore the Father seems to interess himself in the cause, as it were his own, he furnisheth our Advocate, as if it were to ple • d the c • use of his own justice against us, he upholds and strengthens Christ in our cause, a • really a • if it were his own, Isai. 42.1.6. which expresseth to us the admirable harmony and consent of Heaven to the salvation of as many as make Christ their refuge, • nd desire not to live in sin, though they be often soiled, yet there is no hazard of the f • iling of their c • use above, because our Advocate hath both exc • ll • nt • kill, and undoubit • ble • uthority.

Yea, he i • so fully q • alified for this, that • e is called Jesus, the Savior, he is such an Advocate, that he saves all • e pleads for. The best Advocate may loss the cause, either through the weakness of its self, or the iniquity of the Judge, but he is the Advocate and the Savior, th •• never s • ccumb'd in his undertaking for any soul, be their sins never so h • inous, their accusation never so just and true, their accuser never so powerful, yet they who put their cause in his hand, who flee in hither for refuge, being we • ried of the bond • ge of sin • nd Sat • n, he ha • h such • prevalency with the Father, th • t their c • use cannot miscarry, even when Justice itself seems to be the opposite party, yet he h • th such m • rvellous success in his office, that justice shall • ather meet amicably with mercy and peace, and salute them kindly, Psal. 85.10, 11. a • being s • tisfied by him▪ then he come short in his undert • king.

But there is • nother personal qualification needful, or all should be in vain, Jesus the righteous. If he were not righteous in himself, he had need of an Advocate for himself, and might not ple • d for sinners, but he is righteous and holy, no guile found in his mouth, without sin, an unblameable and u • spotted high Priest, else he could not mediate for others, and such an Advocate too, else he could not plead for others, Heb. 7.26. As this perfected his s • crifice, that he offered not for his own sins, neither needed, so thi • completes his Advocatship, and gives it a mighty i • fluence • or his poor Clients, that he needs not ple • d for himself. If then the Law cannot attack our Lord and Savior, can lay no claim • o him, or cha • ge against him, then ce • tainly, • ll that he did, behooved to be for others, and so he stands in a good capacity to plead for us before the Father, and to sue out a pardon to us, though guilty; for if the just was delivered for the unjust, and the righteous suffered for the unrighteous, much more is it consistent with the justice of the Father, to deliver and save the unrighteous and unjust sinner, for the • ighteous Advocates sake. If ye seek me, then let these go free, saith he, John. 18.8. So he in effect pleads with God his Father, O Father, if thou deal with me the righteous One, as with an unrighteous man, then, in all reason and justice, thou must deal with my poor Clients, though unrighteous, as with righteous men; If justice thought she did me no wrong to punish me the righteous, then let it not be thought a wrong to justice to pardon, absolve, and justify the unrighteous.

Now, if he be so righteous a person, it follows necessarily, that he hath a righteous cause, for an honest man will not Advocate for an unjust cause. But, how can the cause of believers be said to be righteous, when justice itself, and the Law, indites the accusation against them? Can they plead, Not guilty? Or he for them? There is a twofold righ • eousnesse, in relation to a twofold rule, a righteousness of strict justice, in relation to the first Covenant, and this cannot be pleaded, that our cause is exactly conformable to the Covenant of Woe • ks, we cannot, nor Christ in our name, plead anything from that, which holds • orth nothing but per • onal obedience, or else personal satisfaction. But yet, our cause may be • ound to be righteous, in relation to the second Covenant, and the rule and terms of it, in as f • r as God h • th revealed his acceptance of • surety in our stead, and hath dispensed with the rigor of the Law, according to that new Law of grace and righteousness contempered together; The cause of a desperate lost sinner may sustain before the righteous Judge, and it is upon this new account, that he pleads for us, because he hath satisfied in our stead; and now it is as righteous and equitable with Go • ▪ to show mercy and forgiveness to believing sinners, as it is to reveal wrath and anger against impenitent sinners.

I know there will be some secret whisperings in your hearts upon the hearing of this, Oh, its true, it is a most comfortable thing for them whose Advocate he is, there is no fear of the miscarrying of their cause above, but as for me, I know not if he be an Advocate for me, whether I may come into that sentence, We have an Advocate, &c. I confess it is true, he is not an Advocate for everyone, for while he was here, be prayed not for the world, but them that were given him out of the world, Joh. 17. much more will he not plead for the world, w • en he is above; He is • ather witnessing against the unbelieving world. But yet, I believe his Advocation is not restrained only to them that actually believe, 〈◊〉 neither his supplication was, John. 17. But 〈◊〉 he prayed for them who should • e • eafter believe, so he still pleads for all the elect, not only to procure remission to the penitent, but repentance to the impenitent. There is one not • ble ef • ect of the Advocation and intercession of Christ, which indeed is common • o the world, but particularly intended for the elect, that is, the present suspension of the execution of the curse of the • awe, by virtue whereof there is liberty to offer the Gospel, and c • ll sinners to repentance: No question, the spa • ing of the world, the forbe ••• nce and long-suff •• ing of God tow • rd sinner • , is the result and f • uit of our Lord's intercession and advocation in He • ven, and so even the e •• ct have the benefit of it before they believe, but it i • so provided, that they shall never sensibly know this, nor have any special comfort •• om it, till they believe, and • o Christ doth not plead for pardon to their sins till they repent▪ He pl • ad • even befo • e we repent, but we cannot know it, yet, he pleads not that pardon he bestowed befo • e they • epent, and so the saving effi • acy of hi • Advoc • tion is peculiar and proper in the applic • tion to believing • ouls.

Now, consider (I say) whether or not thou be one that find • the power of that persuasion, my little children, I write to you that you sin not, &c. Can thou unfeignedly s • y, that its th • desire and endeavor of thy soul, not to sin, and that thou art persuaded to this, not only from the fear and terror of God, but especially from his mercy and goodness in the Gospel, this is one part of the character of such as Christ • advocation is actually extended to. Moreover, being surprised with sin, and overcome beside thy purpose, and against thy desire, dost thou apprehend sin as thy greatest misery, and • rr • ign thyself before the T • ibunal of God, or art thou attached in thy own conscience, and the L • w pleaded • gainst thee, before the bar of thy own conscience, then, I say, according to this Scripture, thou art the soul unto whom this comfort belongs, thou art called of God, to decide the controversy in thy own conscience, by flying up, • nd apealing to that higher Tribunal, where Christ is advocate, thou may safely give over, and trust thy cause to him.

But on the other hand, O, how deplorable and irremedilesse is the condition of these souls, who have no cause of this kind stated within there our conscience, who are not pursued by Satan and sin, but rather at peace with them, amic • bly agreeing with them, acting their lusts • nd will; you who have no bonds upon you, to restrain you from sin, neither the terror of the Lord persuadeth you, nor the love of Christ constrains you ; you can be kept from no beloved sin, nor pressed to any serious and spiritual labor in God's service, and then, when you sin, you have no accuser within, or such an one as you suppres • , and suffers not to plead it out against you, o • cite you before God's Tribunal. I say unto you, and all • s, many of you are such, you do not, you cannot know, that you have an interest in this Advocate. You can have no benefit, nor saving advantage from Christ • pleading, while you remain thu • in your sin • . Alas, poor soul • , what will ye do? Can you m • nn • ge your own cause alone •• though you defraud and deceive your own consciences now, though ye offer violence to them, do you think so to carry it above? nay, persuade yourselves, you must one day appear, and none to speak for you; God you • Judge, your conscience your accuser, and S • tan your tormentor standing by; and then, • o to him that is alone, when the advoc • te becomes judge▪ in that day blest are all those that have trusted in him, and used him formerly as an Advocate against sin and Satan. But woe to them forever, who would never suffer this cause to be pleaded, while there was an Advocate.

SERMON XXVII·

HEre is the strength of Christ's plea, and ground of his advocation, that he is the proti • tion. The Advocate is the Priest, and the Priest is the Sacrifice, and such efficacy this sacrifice hath, that the propitiatory-sacrifice may be called the very propitiation, and pacification for sin. Here is the marrow of the Gospel, and these are the breasts of consolation, which any poor sinner might draw by faith, and bring out soul-refreshment. But truly, it comes not out, but by drawing, and there is nothing fit for that but the heart, that alone can suck out of these breasts the milk of consolation. The well of salvation in the word is deep, and many of you have nothing to draw with, you want the bucket that should be let down, that is, the affection • t meditation and consideration of the heart; and therefore, you go away empty. You come full of other cares, and desires, and delights, no empty room in your hearts for this, no soul-longings, and thi • stings aft • r the righteousness of God : and therefore, you return as you came, empty of all solid and true refreshment. Oh, that we could draw it forth to you, and then drop it into your hearts, and make it descend into your consciences.

In these words, you may consider more distinctly, who this is, and then, for whom he is made a sacrifice, and withal, the efficacy of this sacrifice, and the sufficiency. Who this is, is pointed out as with the finger, (He is) that is, Jesus Christ the righteous. The Apostle demonstrats him as a remarkable pe • son, as in his Evangel, the Baptist, doth. Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the World. And the Church, Isa. 63.1. taketh a special notice of this person. Who is this that cometh from Edom? and that which maketh him so remarkable, is his strange habit after the treading the Wine-press of wrath alone, that he was made a bloody sacrifice to pacify God, and to show you, how notable a person he is, he is signally, and eminently pointed • ut by the Father, Is • . 42.1. Behold my servant, &c. As if he would have the eyes of all men fixed upon him, with wonder and admiration; and for this end, he singled him out from the multitude, by a voice from heaven, which testified unto him particularly, this is my welbel • ved Son, hear him. Therefore the Apostle had reason to say, 2 Cor. 5.14 That he is One for all, so notable an one, that he may serve for all; He stands in more value, in the compt of God, the • all mankind; all creatures are Cyphers, which being never so much multiplied, come to nothing, amount not beyond nothing, but set him before them, put Christ on the head of them, and he signifies more then they all do, and gives them all some estimation in the compt. And so they stand in Paul's calculation, Phil. 3. which he makes with very great assurance and confidence, yea doubtless I count all dung, but the superexcellent knowledge of Christ. Christ is only the figure, that hath signification, and gives signification to other things.

But in this business, the consideration of the persons interested, ( he, and us, ) maketh us behold a great Emphasi • in the Gospel: he, a propitiation, and that for our sins, is • str • ng • combination of wonders. If it had been some other person, less distant from us, that w • r • thus given for us, and standing in our room, then we would have better understood the exchange. Things of like wor • h, to be thus shuf • ed together, and stand in one • nothers place, is not so strange. But between the persons mentioned, him, and us, there is such an infinite distance, that it is wonderful, how the one descend • to the room of the other, to become • sac • ific • for us. O, that we could express this to our own hearts, with all the Emphasis that it hath; He, the Lord, and we, the servant • ; he, the King ▪ and we ▪ the poor beggars; He, the brightn • sse of his Fathers glory, and we, the shame and ignominy of t • e whole creation; he, counting it no robbery to be equal with God, and being in the form of God, and we, not equal to the worst of creatu • es, because of sin, and being in the form of devils. Had it been • holy, and righteous man for sinners, it had been a strange enough exchange; but He is not only holy and harmless, but higher then the heavens. O, what a vast descent was this, from heaven to earth, from a Lord to a servant, from an ete • nal Spirit, to mortal flesh, from God to creatu • es, and to descend thus far, for such persons, not only unworthy in themselves, such as could not conciliat any liking, but such as might procure lo • thing, as is described, Ezek. 16. and Rom. 5.6. and 1 Pet. 3.18. While we were enemies, and might have expected • commissioner from heaven, with vengeance against us. Behold, how the mysterious design of love breaks up, and opens itself to the world, in sending his own Son for us ; and this is exceedly aggravated, from the absolute freedom of it, that there was nothing to pre-engage him to it, but infinite impediments in the way to dissuade him; many impediments of his affection, and many difficulties to his power, and then, no gain nor advantage to be expected from such creature • , notwithstanding of such an undertaking for them.

Now, herein is the strongest support of saith, and the greatest incentive to love, and the mightiest persuasive to obedience, that can be. I say, the strongest support of • aith; for, a soul apprehending the greatness and heinousness of sins, and the inviolablenesse of God's righteousness, with the purity of his holiness, can hardly be 〈◊〉 ▪ that anything can compe •••• 〈◊〉 infinite w • ong that is done to his Majesty, though ordina • ily the small and superficial app • ehen • ion of sin, makes a kind of facility in this, or an empty c • edulity of the Gospel. The reason why most men do not question and doubt of the Gospel, and of their acceptance before God, is not because they are stablished in the faith, but rather because they do not so seriously and deeply believe, and ponder their own sins, and God's holiness; which if many did, they would find it • gre • ter difficulty to attain to a solid and quieting persuasion of the grounds of the Gospel: they would find much ado • to settle that point, of the • eadinesse of God to pardon and accept sinners. But now, I say, all this difficulty, and these clouds of doubts, will evanish at the bright appea • ance of this Sun of Righteousness, that i • , at the solid conside • ation of the glorious excellency of him that was given • ransom for us, herein the soul may be satisfied, that God is satisfied, when he considers what a person hath undertaken it, even Jesus the righteous, the only Son of God, in whom his soul delighteth, whose glorious divine Majesty puts the stamp of infinite worth upon all his sufferings, and raiseth up the dignity of the sacrifice, beyond the sufferings of all creatures: For there are two things needful, for the full satisfaction of a troubled soul, that apprehends the heinousness of sin, and hight of wrath▪ nothing can calm and settle this storm, but t • e appearance of two things; First, of God's willingness and readiness to pardon sin, and save sinners; Next, of the an • werablenesse of a ransom to his Ju •• ice, that so, there may be no impediment in hi • way to forgive. Now, let this once be estab • ished in thy heart, that such an one, so beloved of God, and so equal to God, is the propitiation for our sin • , that God hath sent his only begotten Son, for this very business, unrequired, and unknown of us; then, there is the • learest demonstration of these two things, that c • n be, of the love of God, and of the worth of the ransom. What difficulty c • n be supposed in it, actually to pardon thy heinous sins, when his love hath ove • come infinite greater difficulties, to send one, hi • own Son, to procure pardon, John 3. Certainly, it cannot but be the very delight of his heart to forgive sins, since he spared not his Son, to purch • se it; since he hath had such an everl • sting design of love, which broke out in Christ's coming, and then, such a person he is, that the merit of his sufferings, cannot but be an valu • ble and sufficient compensation to justice, for our personal ex • mption, because he is one above all, of infinite highness •• ; and therefore, his lowness hath an infinite worth in it, of infinite fullness, and therefo • e his emptin • sse is of infinite price; of infinite glory, and so, his shame i • equivalent to the shame and malediction of all mankind. So then, wh •• so • ver thou apprehend of thy own sins, or God's holiness, that seemeth to render thy pardon difficult, l • y but in the balance with that, fi • st, the free and rich •• pression of the infinite love of God, in sending such an one for a ransom, and sure, that speaks as much to his readiness and willingness, as if a voice spake it just now from heaven; and then, to take away all scruple, lay the infinite worth of his person, who is the propitiation, with thy sins, and it will certainly out-weigh them; so that, thou may be fully quieted, and sati • fied in that point, that it is as easy for him to pardon, as for thee to con • esse sin, and • sk pardon: nay, that he is more ready to give it thee, then thou to ask it.

But in the next place, I desire you to look upon this, as the greatest incentive of affection: O, how should it inflame your hearts to consider, that such an one became • s • crifice for our sins; to think that Angels hath not such a word, to comfort themselves withal; these innumerable companies of Angels, who left their station, and were once in dignity above us, hath not such glad tidings to report one to another in their societies, as we have; they cannot say, he is the propitiation for our sins. This is the wonderful mystery, that blessed Angels desire to look into, they gaze upon it, and fix the eyes of their admiration upon God manifested in the flesh, wondering at the choice of mort • l man, before immortal spirits, that he is a ransom for them, and not for their own brethren, who left their station; how should this endear him to our souls, and his will to our hearts, who h • th so loved us, and given himself for us ; Hath he given himself for us, and should we deny ourselves to him, especially wh • n we consider what an infinite disparity is between the woe • th, and difference in the advantage of 〈◊〉 he gave his blessed self, a sacrifice, he offered himself to death for us, not to purchase anything to himself, but life to us, and what is it he requires? but your base and unworthy self, to offer up your lusts and sins in a sacrifice, by mortification, and your hearts and affections, in a thanksgiving-offering, whe • ein your own greatest gain lies too: for this is t • uly to find and save yourselves, thus to quite yourselves to him.

The efficacy of this is holden out in the word, propitiation for our sins, the virtue of Christ's sacrifice is to pacify Justice, and make God propitious, that is, favorable and merciful to sin • ers. In which there are three considerable things imported, one is, that sin is the cause of enmity between God and man, and sets us at an infinite distance, that sin is a heinous provocation of his wrath; another is expressed, that Christ is the propitiation, in opposition to that provocation, he pacifies wrath, and then conciliat • • avour, by the sacrifice of himself; all the expressions of the Gospel, import the damnable and deplorable estate that sin puts man into: Reconciliation imports the standing enmity and • eid between God and men, Propitiation imports the provocation of the holy and just indignation of God again •• man, the • ewel whereof is our sins: Iustificati •• implies the lost and condemned estate of a si •• ner, under the sentence and curse of the Law • all that is in the Gospel minds us of our orig •• nal, of the forlo • n estate he found us into, no • pitying us, nor able to help us. I would de • i •• that this might first take impression on yo •• hearts, that sin sets God and men at infinite distanc • and not only distance, but dissaffection and enm •• ty, it hath sown the seeds of that woeful discord and kindled that contention, which if it be no quenched by the blood of Christ, will burn to ever • lasting, so that none can dwell with it, and ye • sinners must dwell in it, there is a provoking quality in it, fit • o alienat the holy heart of God, and to incense his indignation, which when once it is kindled, who can stand before it ? Do but consider what you conceive of wrongs done to you, how they stir your passions, and provoke your patience, so that there is much ado to get you pacified, and what heinousness must then be in your offenses against God, both in regard of number and kind? Oh, that you could but impartially weigh this matter, you would find, that in the view of God, all wrongs and injuries between men evanish. Against thee alone have I sinned ; that relation and respect of sin to God, exhaust • all other respects of injuries towards men. It is true, that his Majesty is free from passion, and is not commoved and troubled as your spirit • are, yet such is the provoking nature of sin, that it cries • or vengeance, and brings a sinner under the dreadful sentence of divine wrath, which he both pronounceth, and can execute, without any inward commot • on or disturbance of spirit. But, because • we conceive of him after our manner, therefore he speaks in such te • ms to us. But that which he would •• gn • fie by it, is that the sinner is in as dreadful and damn • ble a condition by sin, as if the Lord were mightily inflamed with anger and rage; the just punishment is as due and certain, as if he were subject to such passions as we are, and so much the more certain, that he is not. Now, I desire you to consider, how mightily the heinousness of sin is aggravated, partly, by the quality o • the person • , and partly, by the con • ideration of his benefit • to us. A great man resents a light wrong heavily, because his person makes the wrong heavier. O, what do you think the most High should do, considering his i • finite distance • rom us, his glorious Majesty, and greatness, hi • pu • e holiness, his absolute power and supremacy, what vile and abominable characters of presumptions and rebellion do all these imprint upon disobedience? Shall he suffer himself to be despised and neglected of men, when there is no petty creature above another, but he will be jealous of his credit, and vindicate himself from con • empt? and then, when ingratitude is mingled, in with rebellion, it makes sin exceeding si • full; and sinful sin exceeding provoking, to proclaim open war against the holy and righteous will of him▪ whom we owe ourselves to, and all that w • are, or have; To do evil, because he is good, and be unthankful, because he is kind, to take all his own members, faculties, creatures, and employ them as instruments of dishonor against himself, there is here • ewel • or feeding everlasting indignation; there is no indignity, no vileness, no wickedness to this; all the provocations of men, how just soever, are in the sight of this, groundless and vain, like a child's indignation; all are but imaginary injuries, consisting but in opinion, in regard of that which sin hath in the bosom of it against God.

But, how shall any satisfaction be made for the injury of sin? What shall pacify his justly deserved anger? Here is the question indeed, that would have driven the whole world to a nonplus, if once the Majesty and holiness of God had been seen. But the ignorance of God's greatness, and men's sinfulness, made the world to fancy some expiations of sin, and satisfactions to God, partly, by sacrifices of b • asts, partly, by prayer, and repentance for sins.

SERMON XXVIII·

THis age pretends to much knowledge, beyond former ages, knowledge, I say, not only in other natural Arts and Sciences, but especially in Religion; whether there be any great advancement in other knowledge, and improvement of that which was, • o a further extent and clearness▪ I cannot j • dge; but, I believe, there is not much o • it in this Nation, nor do we so much pretend to it. But, we talk of the enlargements of divine knowledge, and the breaking up of a clearer light, in the point o • Religion, in respect of which, we look on former times, a • the times of ignorance and darkness, which God winked at. If it were so indeed, I should think the time happy, and bless the days we live into, for as many sour and sad accidents as they are mixed withal: Indeed, if the variety of Books, and multiplicity of discourses upon Religion, if the multitude of disputes about points of truth, and frequency of Sermons, might be held for a sufficient proof of this pretension, • e should not want store enough of knowledge and light. But, I fear that this is not the touch-stone of the Holy Ghost, according to which we may try the truth o • this assertion; that this is not the rule, by which to measure either the truth, or degrees of our knowledge; but for all that, we may be lying buried in Egyptian -darkness, and while such a light seems to shine about us, our hearts may be a dungeon of darkness, of ignorance of God, and un • elief, and our ways and walk full of stumbling • in the darkness. I am led to entertain these sad thoughts o • the present time • , from the words of the Apostles, which gives us the designation of • true Christian, to be the knowledge of God; and the character o • his knowledge, to be obedience to his commands; if according to this level, we take the estimat of the proportion of our knowledge • nd light, I am aff • aid lest there be found as much ignorance of God, and da • kness, as we do foolish fancy that we have of light. However, to find 〈◊〉 will be some breaking up of light in our hearts, an • to discover how little we know indeed upon a 〈◊〉 account, will be the fi • st morning Star o • that Sun 〈◊〉 R • ghteousnesse, which will shine more and more to th • perfect day. There • ore we shall labor to bring ou • light, to the l • mp of this word, and our knowledge to this testimony of unquestionable authority, tha • • aving recourse to the Law and the Testimony, w • may find if there be light in us, or so much light as men think they see; if we could but open ou • eyes to the shining light of this Scripture, I doubt not, but we should be able to see that which • ew do see, that is, that much of the pretended light of this age, is darkness and ignorance. I do not speak of errors only, that come • orth in the garments o • new light, but especially, of the vulgar knowledge of the truth of Religion, which is • ar adulterated from the true metal & stamp of divine knowledge, by the intermixture of the gross darkness of our affections and conversation, as that other is from the naked truth; and therefore both of them are found light in the balance of the Sanctuary, and counter • eight by this touch-stone of obedience.

To make out this examination the better, I shall endeavor to open these three things unto you, which comprehend the words; 1. That the knowledge of God in Jesus Christ, is the most proper designation of a Christian; hereby we know that we know him, which is as much as to say, that we are true Christians. 2. That the proper character of true knowledge, is obedience, or conscionable pr • ctising of what we know; And then lastly, that the only estimat or trial of our estate before God, is made according to the appearance of his work in u • , and not by immediate thrusting ourselves into the secrets of God's hidden decrees; Hereby we know, &c. Here then in a nar • ow circl • we have • ll the work and business of a Ch • istian, his direct • nd principal duty is, to know God, and keep his commands, which are not two distinct duties, as they come in a religious consideration, but make up one complete woe • k of Christianity, which consists in conformity to God. Then the reflex, and secondary duty of a Christian, which makes much for hi • comfort, is, to know that he knows God: To know God, and keep his commands, i • a thing of indispensible necessity to the being o • a Christi • n, to know that we know him, is of great conce • nment, to the come • ort and well-being o • a Christian; without the first, a man is as miserabl • • s he can be, without the sense and feeling of mise • y, because h • wants the spring and fountain of all happiness; without the second, a Christian is unh • ppy indeed for the present, though he may not be called miserable, because he is more happy then he knows of, and only unhappy, because he knows not his happiness.

For the first then, knowledge is a thing so nature • l to the spirit of a man, that the desire of it is restless, and insatiable; there is some appetite of it in all men, though in the generality of people (because of immersednesse in earthly things, and th • predominancy of corrupt lusts and affections, which hinder most men's souls to wait upon th • more noble inquiry alter knowledge, in which on • a man really differs from a beast) there be little 〈◊〉 no stirring that way; yet some finer spirits the • •• e, that are unquiet this way, and with Solomo • give them • elves, and apply their hearts to sea • c • out wisdom. But, this is the cu • se of man's curio ••• ty at first, in seeking after unnecessary knowledge when he was happy enough already, and knew a much of God and his works, as might have been 〈◊〉 most satis • ying entertainment of his spirit; I say for that wretched aim, we are to this day deprive • ed of that knowledge which man once had, whic • was the ornament of his nature, and the • epast o • his soul; as all other things are subdued under • curse for sin, so especially this which man had, i • lost, in seeking that which he needed not, and the tract of it is so obscured and perplexed, the footsteps of it are so undiscernable, and the way of it is like a Bird in the Air, or a Ship in the Sea, leaving us few helps to find it out, that most part of men lose themselves in seeking to find it: And therefore, in all the inquiries and searchings of men after the knowledge even of natural things, that come under our view, there is at length nothing found out remarkable, but the increase of sorrow, and the discovery of ignorance, as Solomon saith, E • cles. 1.18. This is all the Jewel that is brought up from the bottom of this Sea, when men div • deepest into it, for the wisest of men could reach no more, though his bucket was as long as any man's • Chap. 7.23. I said, I will he wise, b • t it was far from me; that which is far off, and exceeding deep, who can find it out? Knowledge hath taken a far journey from man's nature, and hath not lest any prints behind it to find it out again, but, as it we • e, hath flown away in an instant, and therefore, we may ask with Job, 28. ver. 1.12 Surely there is a vein for the silver, &c. But where shall wisdom be found? and where is the place of understanding? What Vtopian Isles hath she t • an • ported unto? that mortal men, the more they seek her, they find more ignorance, the further they pu • sue, they see themselves at the further distance; thus it is in these things that are most obvious to our sense • , but how much more, in spiritual and invisible things is our darkness increased, because of the dullness and earthiness of our spirits, that are clogged with a • ump of flesh; for God himself that should be the • rimum intelligible of the soul, the fi • st and principal object, whose glorious light should first strike • nto our hearts, Job testifies how little a portion is • nown of him, when we cannot so much as under • tand the thunder of his power, that makes such a • ensible impression on our ears, and makes all the • orld to stand and hearken to it, then how much • esse shall we conceive the invisible Majesty of God? • n natural things we have one veil of da • knesse in • ur minds to hinder us; but in the apprehension • f God, we have a two • old darkness to break through, • he darkness of ignorance in us, and the darkness • f too much light in him. Caliginem nimiae luci • , • hich makes him as inaccessible to us, as the other; • he over-proportion of that glorious Majesty of God, to our low spirits, being as the Sun in i • brightness, to a night-Owl, which is da • k midnigt • to it. Hence is it, that these holy men who know mo •• of God, think they know least, because they see mor • to be known, but infinitely surpassing knowledge pride is the daughter of ignorance only, and h • that thinketh he knoweth anything, knoweth nothin • as he ought to know, saith the Apostle, 1 Cor. 8.2 • For he that knoweth not his own ignorance, if h • know never so much, is the greatest ignorant, an • it is a manifest evidence that a man hath but a supe • ficial touch of things, and hath never broken the shell, or drawn by the veil of his own weakness and ignorance, that doth not apprehend deeply, the unsearchableness of God, and his mysteries; but thinketh he • ath in some measure compassed them, bec • use he maketh a system of divinity, or setteth down so many conclusions of faith, and can debat • them against adversaries, or because he hath a form and model of divinity, as of other sciences, in hi • mind. Nay, my bel • ved, holy Job attained to the deepest and fullest speculation of God, when he concluded this, because I see thee, I abhor myself ; and as Paul speaks, If any man love God, he is known of God, and so knows God, 1 Cor. 8.3. From which two testimonies I conclude, that the true knowledge of God, consists not so much in a comprehension of all points of divin • ty, as in such a seriou • apprehension and conception of th • Divine Majesty, as enkindles and inflames these two affections, love and hatred toward • their proper objects; such • knowledge as carries the torch before the affection; such a light as shines into the heart, as Paul's phrase i • , 2 Cor. 4.6. and so transmitts heat • nd warmness into it, till it make the heart burn in the love of God, and loathing of himself; as long as a man doth but hear of God in sermons, or read of him in books, though he could determine all the questions and problems in divinity, he keeps a good conceit of himself, and that knowledge pu • seth up, and swell • a man into a vain tumor, the venom of poison blows him up full of wind, and self-confidence, and commonly they who doubt least, are not the • reest of error, and misapprehension; and truly, whoever seriously • eflects upon the difficulty of knowledge, and da • knesse of men's minds, and the general curse of vanity, and vexation that all thing • are under, so that what is wanting cannot be numbered, nor that which is crooked made straight, he cannot but look upon too great confidence, and peremprorienesse in all points, as upon a race at • ull speed, in the dark night, in a way full of pit • • nd snares; o • tentimes our confidence • lowes not •• om evidenc • of t • uth, but the ignorance of our • indes, and is not so much built upon the strength 〈◊〉 reason, as th • strength of our passions, and weak • esse of our judgments.

But when once • man comes to see God, and know • im in a lively manner, then he sees his own weak • esse, and vileness in that light, and cries out • ith Isaiah, Woe is me, I am a man of polluted lips, • nd he discerns in that light, the amiableness and •• velinesse of God, that ravisheth his heart after it, 〈◊〉 then 〈◊〉 Jeremiah saith, He will not glory in riches, or strength, or beauty, or wisdom, but onl • 〈◊〉 this, that he hath at length gotten some disco •••• of the only • ountain of happiness, then he will 〈◊〉 think so much of tongues & languages, of pro •••• cying • , of all knowledge of controversies, neit ••• gifts of body nor of mind, nor external append •• ces of providence, will much affect him, he coul • content to trample on all these, to go over them to a fuller discovery, and enjoyment of God him ••••

If we search the Scriptures, we shall find fl ••• they do not entertain us with many and subtle 〈◊〉 courses of God's nature, and decrees; and proper • l •• nor do they insist upon the many perplexed ques ••• on • , that are mad • concerning Christ and his offi ••• about which so many volumnes are spun ou • , to 〈◊〉 infinite distraction of the Christian world; they 〈◊〉 not pretend to satisfy your curiosity, but to 〈◊〉 your souls; and th • refore they hold out God 〈◊〉 Christ, as clothed with all his relations to ma •• k • nd, in all these plain and easy properties, thi • concerns us everlastingly, his justice, mercy, grace • patience, love, holiness, and such like. Now, hen •• I gather, that the true knowledge of God, consi •• not in the comprehension of all the conclusions tha • are deduced, and controversies that ar • discuss •• •• ent these things, but rather, in the serious an • solid apprehension of God, as he hath relation 〈◊〉 us, and consequently in order and reference to th • moving of our hearts, to love, and • door, and reveren • e him, for he is holden ou • only, in the •• garments that are fit to move, and affect our hearts. A man may know all these things, and yet not know God himself, for to know him, cannot be abstracted • rom loving o • him, they that know thy Name will trust in thee, and s • love thee, and so fear thee, for its impossible but that this will be the natural result, if he he but known indeed; because there i • no object more amiable, more dread • ul withal, and more eligible, and worthy o • choice, and therefore, seeing infinite beauty and goodness, and infinite power and greatness, and infinite sufficiency and fullness, are combined together with infinite truth, the soul that apprehends him indeed, cannot but • pprehend him as the most ravishing object, and t • e most reverend too; and if he do not find his h •• rt suitably a •• ected, it is an evident demonstration, that he doth not indeed apprehend him, but 〈◊〉 idol. The infinite light, and the infini • life, are simply one, and he that truly without a dream, sees the one, c • nnot but be warmed • nd moved by the other.

So then by this account of the knowledge of God, we have a clear discovery that many are destitu •• of it, who pretend to it. I shall only apply it to • woe sorts of person • , one is, of them who have • t only in their memories, • nother, of them who • ave it only in th • ir minds or heads. Religion • as once the legittimat daughter o • judgment • nd • ffection, but now, • or the most part, it is only • dopted by men's memories, or • ancies; the great • st part of the people, cannot go beyond the reap • ition of the Catechism or Creed, not that I would • ave you to know more. But you do not under ••• nd that, only ye repeat words, without the sensible knowledge of the meaning of it, so that if th • same matter be disguised with any other form 〈◊〉 words, you cannot know it, which showeth, tha • you have no • amiliarity with the thing it • elf, bu • only with the letters and syllables that are the gar • ments of it. And for others that are of great •• capacity, yet alas, it comes not down to the hear • , to the affecting and moulding and forming of it▪ a little light shines into the mind, but your heart • are shut up still, and no window in them: Corrup • affections keep that Garison against the power of the Gospel; That light hath no heat o • love, o • warmness of affection with it, which showeth▪ that it is not a ray or beam of the Sun of right • ousnesse which is both beautiful for light, and ben • ficial • or influence, on the cold and dead froze • hearts of mankind, and by its approaching, mak •• a spring-time in the heart.

But all men pretend to know God, such is th • self-love of men's hearts, that it makes them blind in judging themselves; therefore, the Holy Ghost ▪ as he designs a Christian by the knowledge of G • d, so he characterizeth knowledge by keeping • h • Commandments; hereby we know, &c. So that Religion is not defined by • number of opinions▪ or by such a certain collection of such articles o • • aith, but rather by practice and obedience to th •• known will of God. For as I told you, knowled •• is a relative duty, that is instrumental to some • thing else, and by anything I can see in Scripture, is not principally intended for itself, but rather for obedience; There • re some • science • 〈◊〉 speculative, that rest and are complete in the mere knowledge o • such objects, as some natural sciences are. But others are practical, that make a • urther re • erence of all things they cognosce upon, to some practice, and operation. Now, perhaps some may think, that the Scripture or divinity, is much of it me • lie contemplative, in regard of many mysteries in • olded in it, that seem nothing to concern our practice. I confess much of that, that is raised out of the Scriptures, is such, and therefore it seems a deviation and departure from the great scope, and plain intent of the simplicity and easiness of the Scriptures, to draw • orth with much industry, and subtlety many things o • mere speculation and notion, dry and • aplesse to th • affection, and unedifying to our practice, and • o obtrude these upon other men • consciences, as points of Religion. I rather think, that all that 〈◊〉 in the S • riptures, either directly hath the practice of God's will for the object of it, or is finally i • tended for that end; either it is a thing that pre •• ribeth our obedience, or else it tends principally to ing • ge our affections, and secure our obedience; and so these •• rains of elevate discourses of God, h •• nature, and properties, of his works, and all the mysteries infolded in it, are directed toward • this end, f •• t • er then mere knowing o • them, to ••• age the heart of a believer to more love, and ••• e • ence, and adoration of God, that so he may be brought more easily▪ and steadily to a sweet co • plyance, and harmonious agrement to the will o • God, i • • ll his ways. Nay, to say a little more, there are sundry Physical, or Natural contemplations of the works of God in Scripture, but all these are divinely considered, in reference to the ravishment of the he • t o • man, with the wisdom, and power, and goodness of God, and this shows u • the notable art of Religion, to extract affection and obedience to God, out of all natural contemplations; and thus true divinity engraven on the soul, is a kind of mistress-science, arthitectonica scientia, that serves itself of all other disciplines, of all other points of knowledge, be they never so remote from practice, in their proper sphere, and never so dry and bar • en, yet a religious and holy heart, can apply them to these divine uses of engaging itself further to God, and his obedience: as the Lord himself teacheth us; Who would not fear thee, O King of Nations, Jer. 10. And fear ye not me who have placed the sand, &c. Jer. 5.22. So praise is extracted, Psal. 105. And admiration, verse. 1.33. So submission and patience under God's hand often pressed in Job, therefore if we only seek to know these things, that we may know them, that we may discourse on them, we disappoint the great end, and scope of the whole Scriptures, and we debase and degrade spiritual things, as far as Religion exalts natural things, in the spiritual use: we transform it into a carnal, empty, and dead letter, as Religion, where it is truly, spiritualizeth earthly and carnal things, into a holy use, &c.