Thirty-Six Sermons

THE PREFACE.

I Dare neither think, nor assure the Reader, that I have committed no Mistakes in this Relation of the Life of Dr. Sanderson; but am sure, there is none that are either willful, or very material. I confess, it was worthy the employment of some Person of more Learning and greater Abilities than I can pretend to; and I have not a little wondered that none have yet been so grateful to him and Posterity, as to undertake it: For as it may be noted, That our Savior had a care, that for Mary Magdalens kindness to him, her Name should never be forgotten: So I conceive, the great satisfaction many Scholars have already had, and the unborn World is like to have, by his exact, clear and useful Learning: and might have by a true Narrative of his matchless meekness, his calm Fortitude, and the Innocence of his whole Life: doth justly challenge the like from this present Age; that Posterity may not be ignorant of them: And 'tis to me a wonder, that it has been already fifteen years neglected. But, in saying this, my meaning is not to upbraid others (I am far from that) but excuse myself, or beg pardon for daring to attempt it.

This being premised I desire to tell the Reader, that in this Relation I have been so bold, as to paraphrase and say, what I think he (whom I had the happiness to know well) would have said upon the same occasions; and if I have been too bold in doing so, and cannot now beg pardon of him that loved me; yet, I do of my Reader, from whom I desire the same favor.

And, though my Age might have procured me a Writ of Ease, and that secured me from all further trouble in this kind; yet I met with such persuasions, to undertake it, and so many willing informers since, and from them and others, such helps and encouragements to proceed, that when I found myself faint, and weary of the burden with which I had loaden myself, and sometime ready to lay it down; yet time and new strength hath at last brought it to be what it now is, and here presented to the Reader; and with it this desire: That he will take notice that Dr. Sanderson did in his Will or last sickness advertise that after his death nothing of his might be Printed; because that might be said to be his, which indeed was not; and also, for that he might have changed his Opinion since he first writ it, as 'tis thought he has since he writ his Pax Ecclesiae. And though these Reasons ought to be regarded, yet regarded so, as he resolves in his Case of Conscience concerning rash Vows, that there may appear very good second Reasons, why we may forbear to perform them. However, for his said Reasons, they ought to be read as we do Apocryphal Scripture; to explain, but not oblige us to so firm a belief of what is here presented as his.

And I have this to say more; That as in my Queries for writing Dr. Sanderson's Life, I met with these little Tracts annexed; so in my former Queries for my Information to write the Life of venerable Mr. Hooker, I met with a Sermon, which I also believe was really his, and here presented as his to the Reader. It is affirmed (and I have met with reason to believe it) that there be some Artists, that do certainly know an Original Picture from a Copy; and in what Age of the World, and by whom drawn: And if so, then I hope it may be as safely affirmed, that what is here presented for theirs, is so like their temper of mind, their other writings, the times when, and the occasions upon which they were writ, that all Readers may safely conclude, they could be writ by none but venerable Mr. Hooker, and the humble and learned Dr. Sanderson.

And lastly, the trouble being now past, I look back and am glad that I have collected these Memoirs of this humble Man, which lay scattered, and contracted them into a narrower compass; and, if I have by the pleasant toil of so doing, either pleased or profited any man, I have attained what I designed when I first undertook it: But I seriously wish, both for the Readers, and Dr. Sanderson's sake, that Posterity had known his great Learning and Virtue by a better Pen, by such a Pen, as could have made his Life as immortal as his Learning and Merits ought to be.

THE LIFE OF Dr. Robert Sanderson, LATE LORD BISHOP OF LINCOLN.

DOctor Robert Sanderson, the late Learned Bishop of Lincoln, whose Life I intend to write with all truth and equal plainness, was born the nineteenth day of September, in the year of our Redemption, 1587. The place of his Birth was Rotheram in the County of York: a Town of good note, and the more, for that Thomas Rotheram, sometime Archbishop of that Sea, was born in it; a man, whose great Wisdom and Bounty, and Sanctity of Life, gave a denomination to it, or hath made it the more memorable; as indeed it ought also to be, for being the birthplace of our Robert Sanderson. And, the Reader will be of my belief, if this humble Relation of his Life can hold any proportion with his great Sanctity, his useful Learning, and his many other extaordinary Endowments.

He was the second and youngest Son of Robert Sanderson of Gilthwait-hall in the said Parish and County, Esq by Elizabeth one of the Daughters of Richard Carr of Buterthwate-hall, in the Parish of Ecclesfield in the said County of York, Gentleman.

This Robert Sanderson the Father, was descended from a numerous, ancient and honorable Family of his own Name: for the search of which truth, I refer my Reader, that inclines to it, t • Dr. Thoriton's History of the Anti •• ities of Nottinghamshire, and other Records; not thinking it necessary here to engage him into a search for bare Titles, which are noted to have in them nothing of reality: For, Titles not acquired, but derived only, do but show us who of our Ancestors have, and how they have atchiev'd that honor which their Descendants claim, and may not be worthy to enjoy. For if those Titles descend to persons that degenerate into Vice, and break off the continued line of Learning, or Valour, or that Virtue that acquired them, they destroy the very Foundation upon which that Honor was built; and all the Rubbish of their Degenerousness ought to fall heavy on such dishonorable Heads; ought to fall so heavy, as to degrade them of their Titles, and blast their Memories with reproach and shame.

But this Robert Sanderson, lived worthy of his Name and Family▪ of which one testimony may be, That Gilbert, called the great and glorious Earl of Shrewsbury, thought him not unworthy to be join'd with him as a God-Father to Gilbert Sheldon, the late Lord Archbishop of Canterbury; to whose Merits and Memory Posterity (the Clergy especially) ought to pay a Reverence.

But I return to my intended Relation of Robert the Son, who (like Iosia that good King) began in his Youth to make the Laws of God, and Obedience to his Parents, the Rules of his life; seeming even then, to dedicate himself and all his Studies, to Piety and Virtue.

And, as he was inclined to this by that native goodness, with which the wise Disposer of all hearts had endowed his: So this calm, this quiet and happy temper of mind (his being mild and averse to oppositions) made the whole course of his life easy and grateful both to himself and others: And this blessed temper, was maintained, and improved by his prudent Fathers good Example; as also, by his frequent conversing with him, and scattering short and virtuous Apothegms with little pleasant Stories, and making useful applications of them, by which his Son was in his Infancy taught to abhor Vanity and Vice as Monsters, and to discern the loveliness of Wisdom and Virtue; and by these means and God's concurring Grace, his knowledge was so augmented, and his native goodness so confirmed, that all became so habitual, as 'twas not easy to determine whether Nature or Education were his Teachers.

And here let me tell the Reader, That these early beginnings of Virtue were by God's assisting Grace blest with what St. Paul seemed to beg for his Philippians; namely, That he that had begun a good Work in them, would finish it. And Almighty God did: For his whole life was so regular and innocent, that he might have said at his death (and with truth and comfort) what the same St. Paul said after to the same Philippians, when he advised them to walk as they had him for an Example.

And this goodness, of which I have spoken, seemed to increase as his years did; and with his goodness his learning, the foundation of which was laid in the Grammar School of Rotheram (that being one of those three that were founded and liberally endowed by the said great and good Bishop of that Name.) And in this time of his being a Scholar there, he was observed to use on unwearied diligence to attain learning, and to have a seriousness beyond his age, and with it a more than common modesty; and to be of so calm and obliging behavior, that the Master and whole number of Scholars loved him as one man.

And in this love and amity he continued at that School, till about the thirteenth year of his Age; at which time his Father designed to improve his Grammar learning, by removing him from Rotheram to one of the more noted Schools of Eaton or Westminster: and after a years stay there, then to remove him thence to Oxford. But, as he went with him, he called on an old Friend, a Minister of noted learning, and told him his intentions; and he, after many questions with his Son, received such Answers from him, that he assured his Father, his Son was so perfect a Grammarian, that he had laid a good foundation to build any or all the Arts upon; and therefore advised him to shorten his journey, and leave him at Oxford. And his Father did so.

His Father left him there to the sole care and manage of Dr. Kilbie, who was then Rector of Lincoln College: And he, after some time and trial of his manners and learning, thought fit to enter him of that College, and not long after to matriculate him in the University, which he did the first of July 1603. but he was not chosen Fellow till the third of May 1606. at which time he had taken his degree of Bachelor of Arts; at the taking of which Degree, his Tutor told the Rector, that his Pupil Sanderson had a Metaphysical brain, and a matchless memory: and that he thought he had improved, or made the last so by an Art of his own invention. And all the future employments of his life proved that his Tutor was not mistaken.

I must here stop my Reader, and tell him, that this Dr. Kilibie was a man of so great Learning and Wisdom, and so excellent a Critick in the Hebrew Tongue, that he was made Professor of it in this University; and was also so perfect a Grecian, that he was by King James appointed to be one of the Translators of the Bible: And that this Doctor and Mr. Sanderson had frequent Discourses, and loved as Father and Son. The Doctor was to ride a Journey into Darbyshire, and took Mr. Sanderson to bear him company: and they resting on a Sunday with the Doctor's Friend, and going together to that Parish Church where they then were, found the young Preacher to have no more discretion, than to waste a great part of the hour allotted for his Sermon in exceptions against the late Translation of several words (not expecting such a hearer as Dr. Kilibie ) and showed three Reasons why a particular word should have been otherwise translated. When Evening Prayer was ended, the Preacher was invited to the Doctor's Friends house; where, after some other Conference, the Doctor told him, He might have preached more useful Doctrine, and not have filled his Auditors ears with needless Exceptions against the late Translation; and for that word, for which he offered to that poor Congregation three Reasons, why it ought to have been translated, as he said; he and others had considered all them, and found thirteen more considerable Reasons why it was translated as now printed: and told him, If his Friend, then attending him, should prove guilty of such indiscretion, he should forfeit his Favor. To which Mr. Sanderson said, He hoped he should not. And the Preacher was so ingenious as to say, He would not justify himself. And so I return to Oxford.

In the year 1608. ( July the 11th. ) Mr. Sanderson was completed Master of Arts. I am not ignorant, that for the attaining these Dignities, the time was shorter than was then, or is now required; but either his birth, or the well performance of some extraordinary exercise, or some other merit, made him so: and the Reader is requested to believe that 'twas the last; and requested to believe also, that, if I be mistaken in the time, the College Records have mis-informed me: But I hope they have not.

In that year of 1608, he was ( November the 7th. ) by his College chosen Reader of Logic in the House, which he performed so well, that he was chosen again the sixth of Novemb. 1609. In the year 1613. he was chosen Sub-Rector of the College, and the like for the year 1614. and chose again to the same Dignity and Trust for the year 1616.

In all which time and employments, his abilities and behavior were such, as procured him both love and reverence from the whole Society; there being no exception against him for any faults, but a sorrow for the infirmities of his being too timorous and bashful; both which were, God knows, so connatural, as they never left him; And I know not whether his Lovers ought to wish they had; for they proved so like the Radical moisture in man's body, that they preserved the life of Virtue in his Soul, which by God's assisting grace never left him, till this life put on Immortality. Of which happy infirmities (if they may be so called) more hereafter.

In the year 1614. he stood to be elected one of the Proctors for the University. And 'twas not to satisfy any ambition of his own, but to comply with the desire of the Rector, and whole Society, of which he was a Member; who had not had a Proctor chosen out of their College for the space of sixty years (namely, not from the year 1554. unto his standing;) and they persuaded him, that if he would but stand for Proctor, his merits were so generally known, and he so well beloved, that 'twas but appearing, and he would infallibly carry it against any Opposers; and told him, That he would by that means recover a right or reputation that was seemingly dead to his College. By these and other like persuasions he yielded up his own reason to theirs, and appeared to stand for Proctor. But that Election was carried on by so sudden and secret and by so powerful a Faction, that he mist it. Which when he understood, he professed seriously to his Friends, That if he were troubled at the disappointment, 'twas for theirs, and not for his own sake: For he was far from any desire of such an employment, as must be managed with charge and trouble, and was too usually rewarded with hard censures, or hatred, or both.

In the year following he was earnestly persuaded by Dr. Kilibie and others, to renew the Logic Lectures which he had read some years past in his College: and that done, to methodize and print them, for the ease and public good of Posterity.

And though he had an averseness to appear publicly in print; yet after many serious solicitations, and some second thoughts of his own, he laid aside his modesty, and promised he would; and he did so in that year of 1615. And the Book proved, as his Friends seemed to prophecy, that is, of great and general use, whether we respect the Art or the Author. For Logic may be said to be an Art of right reasoning: an Art that undeceives men, who take falsehood for truth; and enables men to pass a true Judgment and detect those Fallacies which in some men's Understandings usurp the place of right reason. And how great a Master our Author was in this Art, may easily appear from that clearness of Method, Argument, and Demonstration, which is so conspicuous in all his other Writings. And that he who had attained to so great a dexterity in the use of reason himself, was best qualified to prescribe rules and directions for the instructions of others. And I am the more satisfied of the excellency and usefulness of this his first public Undertaking, by hearing, that most Tutors in both Universities teach Dr. Sanderson's Logic to their Pupils, as a Foundation upon which they are to build their future Studies in Philosophy. And for a further confirmation of my belief, the Reader may note, That since this his Book of Logic was first printed, there has not been less than ten thousand sold: And that 'tis like to continue both to discover truth, and to clear and confirm the Reason of the unborn World.

It will easily be believed that his former standing for a Proctors place, and being disappointed, must prove much displeasing to a man of his great Wisdom and Modesty, and create in him an averseness to run a second hazard of his credit and content; and yet, he was assured by Dr. Kilby, and the Fellows of his own College, and most of those that had opposed him in the former Election, That his Book of Logic had purchased for him such a belief of his Learning and Prudence, and his behavior at the former Election had got for him so great and so general a love, that all his former Opposers repented what they had done; and therefore persuaded him to venture to stand a second time. And upon these and other like Encouragements, he did again, (but not without an inward unwillingness,) yield up his own reason to theirs, and promised to stand. And he did so; and was the tenth of April, 1616. chosen Senior Proctor for the year following, Mr. Charles Crook of Christ-Church being then chosen the Junior.

In this year of his being Proctor there happened many memorable accidents part of which I will relate; namely, Dr. Robert Abbot, Master of Balial College, and Regius Professor of Divinity (who being elected or consecrated Bishop of Sarum some months before) was solemnly conducted out of Oxford towards his Diocese, by the Heads of all Houses, and the other Chiefs of all the University. And it may be noted that Dr. Pridiaux succeeded him in the Professorship, in which he continued till the year 1642. (being then elected Bishop of Worcester ) at which time our now Proctor Mr. Sanderson succeeded him in the Regius Professorship.

And in this year Dr. Arthur Lake (then Warden of New College ) was advanced to the Bishopric of Bath and Wells: A man of whom I take myself bound in Justice to say, That he made the great trust committed to him, the chief care and whole business of his life. And one testimony of this truth may be, That he sat usually with his Chancellor in his Consistory, and at least advised, if not assisted in most sentences for the punishing of such Offenders as deserved Church Censures. And it may be noted, That after a Sentence for Penance was pronounced, he did very rarely or never, allow of any Commutation for the Offence, but did usually see the Sentence for Penance executed; and then, as usually preached a Sermon of Mortification and Repentance, and so apply them to the Offenders, that then stood before him, as begot in them, then, a devout contrition, and at least resolutions to amend their lives; and having done that, he would take them (though never so poor) to dinner with him, and use them friendly, and dismiss them with his blessing, and persuasions to a virtuous life, and beg them for their own sakes to believe him. And his Humility, and Charity, and all other Christian Excellencies were all like this. Of all which the Reader may inform himself in his Life, truly writ and printed before his excellent Sermons.

And in this year also, the very prudent and very wise Lord Elsmere, who was so very long Lord Chancellor of England, and then of Oxford, resigning up the last, the right honorable, and as magnificent, William Herbert Earl of Pembroke, was chosen to succeed him.

And in this year, our late King Charles the First (then Prince of Wales ) came honourably attended to Oxford; and having deliberately visited the University, the Schools, Colleges, and Libraries, He and his Attendants were entertained with Ceremonies and Feasting suitable to their Dignity and Merits.

And in this year King James sent Letters to the University for the regulating their Studies; especially of the young Divines: Advising they should not rely on modern Summs and Systemes, but study the Fathers and Councils, and the more Primitive Learning. And this advice was occasioned by the indiscreet inferences made by very many Preachers out of Mr. Calvin 's Doctrine concerning Predestination, Universal Redemption, the Irresistibility of God 's Grace, and of some other knotty Points depending upon these; Points which many think were not, but by Interpreters forced to be Mr. Calvin 's meaning; of the truth or falsehood of which I pretend not to have an ability to judge; my meaning in this Relation being only to acquaint the Reader with the occasion of the King's Letter.

It may be observed, that the various accidents of this year did afford our Proctor large and laudable matter to dilate and discourse upon: And, that though his Office seemed, according to Statute and Custom, to require him to do so at his leaving it; yet he chose rather to pass them over with some very short Observations, and present the Governors, and his other Hearers, with rules to keep up Discipline and Order in the University; which at that time was either by defective Statutes, or want of the due execution of those that were good, grown to b • extremely irregular. And in this year also, the Magisterial part of the Proctor required more diligence, and was more difficult to be managed than formerly, by reason of a multiplicity of new Statu • e • , which begot much confusion; some of which Statutes were then and not till then, and others suddenly after, put into an useful execution. And though these Statutes were not then made so perfectly useful, as they were designed, till Archbishop Laud 's time (who assisted in the forming and promoting them;) yet, our present Proctor made them as effectual as discretion and diligence could do: Of which one Example may seem worthy the noting, namely, That if in his Night-walk he met with irregular Scholars absent from their Colleges at University hours, or disordered by drink, or in scandalous company, he did not use his power of punishing to an Extremity; but did usually take their names, and a promise to appear before him unsent for next morning: And when they did, convinced them with such obligingness, and reason added to it, that they parted from him with such resolutions as the man after God's own heart was possessed with, when he said to God, There is mercy with thee, and therefore thou shalt be feared. And by this, and a like behavior to all men, he was so happy as to lay down this dangerous employment, as but very few, if any have done, even without an Enemy.

After his Proctors Speech was ended, and he retired with a Friend into a convenient privacy; he looked upon his Friend with a more than common cheerfulness, and spake to him to this purpose. I look back upon my late employment with some content to myself, and a great thankfulness to Almighty God, that he hath made me of a temper not apt to provoke the meanest of mankind, but rather to pass by Infirmities, if noted; and in this Employment I have had (God knows) many occasions to do both. And when I consider how many of a contrary temper, are by sudden and small occasions transported, and hurried by Anger to commit such Errors, as they in that passion could not foresee, and will in their more calm and deliberate thoughts upbraid, and require repentance! And consider, that though Repentance secures us from the punishment of any sin, yet how much more comfortable it is to be innocent, than need pardon: And consider, that Errors against men, though pardoned both by God and them, do yet leave such anxious and upbraiding impressions in the memory, as abates of the Offender's content: When I consider all this, and that God hath of his goodness given me a temper that he hath prevented me from running into such enormities, I remember my temper with joy and thankfulness. And though I cannot say with David ( I wish I could) that therefore his praise shall always be in my mouth; yet I hope, that by his grace, and that grace seconded by my endeavors, it shall never be blotted out of my memory; and I now beseech Almighty God that it never may.

And here I must look back, and mention one passage more in his Proctorship, which is; That Gilbert Shelden, the late Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, was this year sent to Trinity College in that University; and not long after his entrance there, a Letter was sent after him from his Godfather (the Father of our Proctor) to let his Son know it, and commend his God-son to his acquaintance, and to a more than common care of his behavior; which proved a pleasing injunction to our Proctor, who was so gladly obedient to his Fathers desire, that he some few days after sent his Servitor to entreat Mr. Shelden to his Chamber next morning. But it seems Mr. Shelden having (like a young man as he was) run into some such irregularity as made him conscious he had transgressed his Statutes, did therefore apprehend the Proctor's invitation as an introduction to punishment; the fear of which made his Bed restless that night; but at their meeting the next morning, that fear vanished immediately by the Proctor's cheerful countenance, and the freedom of their discourse of Friends. And let me tell my Reader, that this first meeting proved the beginning of as spiritual a friendship as human nature is capable of; of a friendship free from all self-ends: and it continued to be so, till death forced a separation of it on earth; but 'tis now reunited in Heaven.

And now, having given this account of his behavior, and the considerable accidents in his Proctorship, I proceed to tell my Reader, that this busy employment being ended, he preached his Sermon for his degree of Bachelor in Divinity, in as eligant Latin, and as remarkable for the method and matter, as hath been preached in that University since that day. And having well performed his other Exercises for that degree, he took it the nine and twentieth of May following, having been ordained Deacon and Priest in the year 1611. by John King, then Bishop of London, who had not long before been Dean of Christ-Church, and then knew him so well, that he owned it at his Ordination, and became his more affectionate Friend. And in this year, being then about the 29th of his Age, he took from the University a Licence to preach.

In the year 1618. he was by Sir Nicholas Sanderson, Lord Viscount Castleton, presented to the Rectory of Wibberton, not far from Boston in the County of Lincoln, a Living of very good value; but it lay in so low and wet a part of that Country, as was inconsistent with his health. And health being (next to a good Conscience) the greatest of God's blessings in this life, and requiring therefore of every man a care and diligence to preserve it; and he, apprehending a danger of losing it if he continued at Wibberton a second Winter, did therefore resign it back into the hands of his worthy Kinsman and Patron, about one year after his donation of it to him.

And about this time of his resignation he was presented to the Rectory of Boothby Pannel in the same County of Lincoln; a Town which has been made famous, and must continue to be famous, because Dr. Sanderson, the humble and learned Dr. Sanderson, was more than forty years Parson of Boothby Pannel, and from thence dated all or most of his matchless Writings.

To this Living (which was of less value, but a purer Air then Wibberton ) he was presented by Thomas Harrington of the same County and Parish, Esq a Gentleman of a very ancient Family, and of great use and esteem in his Country during his whole life. And in this Boothby Pannel the meek and charitable Dr. Sanderson and his Patron lived with an endearing, mutual, and comfortable friendship, till the death of the last put a period to it.

About the time that he was made Parson of Boothby Pannel, he resigned his Fellowship of Lincoln College unto the then Rector and Fellows; And his resignation is recorded in these words.

And not long after this Resignation, he was by the then Bishop of York, (or the King, Sede vacante, ) made Prebend of the Collegiate Church of Southwell in that Diocese; and shortly after of Lincoln by the Bishop of that See.

And being now resolved to set down his rest in a quiet privacy at Boothby Pannel, and looking back with some sadness upon his removal from his general and cheerful Acquaintance left in Oxford, and the peculiar pleasures of a University life; he could not but think the want of Society would render this of a Country Parson still more uncomfortable, by reason of that want of conversation; and therefore he did put on some faint purposes to marry. For he had considered, that though marriage be cumbered with more worldly care than a single life; yet a complying and prudent Wife, changes those very cares into so mutual Joys, as makes them become like the Sufferings of St. Paul, which he would not have wanted, because they occasioned his rejoicing in them. And he having well considered this, and observed the secret unutterable joys that Children beget in Parents, and the mutual pleasures and contented trouble of their daily care and constant endeavors to bring up those little Images of themselves, so, as to make them as happy as all those cares and endeavors can make them: He, having considered all this; the hopes of such happiness turned his faint purpose into a positive resolution to marry. And he was so happy as to obtain Anne, the Daughter of Henry Nelson Bachelor in Divinity, then Rector of Haugham in the County of Lincoln (a man of noted worth and learning.) And the giver of all good things was so good to him, as to give him such a Wife as was suitable to his own desires; a Wife, that made his life happy by being always content when he was cheerful; that was always cheerful when he was content; that divided her joys with him, and abated of his sorrow, by bearing a part of that burden; a Wife, that demonstrated her affection by a cheerful obedience to all his desires, during the whole course of his life; and at his death too; for she out-lived him.

And in this Boothby Pannel he either found or made his Parishioners peaceable, and complying with him in the constant, decent, and regular service of God. And thus his Parish, his Patron and he lived together in a religious love, and a contented quietness: He not troubling their thoughts by preaching high and useless notions, but such, and only such plain truths as were necessary to be known, believed, and practiced in order to the honor of God and their own salvation. And their assent to what he taught was testified by such a conformity to his Doctrine, as declared they believed and loved him. For it may be noted he would often say, That without the last, the most evident truths (heard as from an Enemy, or an evil liver) either are not, (or are at least the less) effectual; and usually rather harden, than convince the hearer.

And this excellent man, did not think his Duty discharged by only reading the Church-Prayers, Catechizing, Preaching, and administering the Sacraments seasonably; but thought (if the Law, or the Canons may seem to enjoin no more, yet) that God would require more than the defective Laws of man's making, can or does enjoin; even the performance of that inward Law, which Almighty God hath imprinted in the Conscience of all good Christians, and inclines those whom he loves to perform. He considering this, did therefore become a Law to himself, practicing not only what the Law enjoins, but what his Conscience told him was his Duty, in reconciling differences, and preventing Law-suits, both in his Parish and in the Neighbourhood. To which may be added his often visiting sick and disconsolate Families, persuading them to patience, and raising them from dejection by his advice and cheerful discourse, and by adding his own Alms, if there were any so poor as to need it; considering how acceptable it is to Almighty God, when we do as we are advised by St. Paul, help to bear one another's burden, either of sorrow or want: and what a comfort it will be, when the Searcher of all hearts shall call us to a strict account as well for that evil we have done, as the good we have omitted; to remember we have comforted and been helpful to a dejected or distressed Family.

And that his practice was to do good, the following Narrative may be one Example,

It may be noted, That in this Age there are a sort of people so unlike the God of mercy, so void of the bowels of pity, that they love only themselves and children; love them so, as not to be concerned, whether the rest of mankind waste their days in sorrow or shame; People that are cursed with riches, and a mistake that nothing but riches can make them and theirs happy. But 'twas not so with Dr. Sanderson; for he was concerned, and spoke comfortably to the poor dejected man; bade him go home and pray, and not load himself with sorrow, for he would go to his Landlord next morning, and if his Landlord would not abate what he desired, he and a Friend would pay it for him.

To the Landlord he went the next day; and in a conference the Doctor presented to him the sad condition of his poor dejected Tenant;

These and other such reasons, were urged with so grave and so compassionate an earnestne • s, that the Landlord forgave his Tenant the whole Rent.

The Reader will easily believe that Dr. Sanderson, who was himself so meek and merciful, did suddenly and gladly carry this comfortable news to the dejected Tenant; and will believe also, that at the telling of it there was a mutual rejoicing. 'Twas one of Job 's boasts, That he had seen none perish for want of clothing: and that he had often made the heart of the widow to rejoice. And doubtless Dr. Sanderson might have made the same religious boast of this, and very many like occasions: But since he did not, I rejoice that I have this just occasion to do it for him; and that I can tell the Reader, I might tire myself and him in telling how like the whole course of Dr. Sanderson 's Life was to this which I have now related.

Thus he went on in an obscure and quiet privicy, doing good daily both by word and by deed, as often as any occasion offered itself; yet not so obscurely, but that his very great Learning, Prudence and Piety were much noted and valued by the Bishop of his Diocese, and by most of the Nobility and Gentry of that County. By the first of which he was often summoned to preach many Visitation Sermons, and by the latter at many Assizes. Which Sermons, though they were much esteemed by them that procured and were • it to judge them; yet they were the less • alu'd, because he read them, which he was forced to do; for though he had a • extraordinary memory (even the Art of i • ) yet he was punished with such an innate, invincible fear and 〈◊〉 , that his memory was wholly useless, as to ▪the repetition of his Sermons, so as he had •• it them; which gave occasion to say, when some of them were first printed and exposed to censure, (which was in the year 1632.) That the best Sermons that were ever re ••• , were never preached.

In this contented obscurity he continued, • ill the learned and pious Archbishop L • ud, who knew him well in Oxford (for he was his contemporary there) told the King ('twas the knowing and conscientious King Charles the I.) that there was one Mr. Sanderson, an obscure Country Minister, that was of such sincerity, and so excellent in all Casuistical Learning, that he desired his Majesty would take so much notice of him as to make him his Chaplain. The King granted it most willingly, and gave the Bishop charge to hasten it, for he longed to discourse with a Man that had dedicated his Studies to that useful part of learning. The Bishop forgot not the King's desire, and Mr. Sanderson was made his Chaplain in Ordinary in November following, (1631.) And when the King and he became better known to each other, then, as ••• s said, that after many hard Questions put to the Prophet Daniel, King Darius found* an excellent Spirit in him; so 'twas with Mr. Sanderson and our Excellent King; who having put many Cases of Conscience to him, received from Mr. Sanderson such deliberate, safe, and clear Solutions, as gave him so great content in conversing with him, (which he did several times in private.) That at the end of his months Attendance the King told him: He should long for the next November; for he resolved to have a more inward Acquaintance with him, when that month and he returned. And when the month and he did return, the good King was never absent from his Sermons, and would usually say, I carry my ears to hear other Preachers, but I carry my Conscience to hear Mr. Sanderson, and to act accordingly: And this ought not to be concealed from Posterity, That the King thought what he spake: For he took him to be his Adviser in that quiet part of his life, and he proved to be his Comforter in those days of his affliction, when he was under such a restraint as he apprehended himself to be in danger of Death or Deposing. Of which more hereafter.

In the first Parliament of this good King (which was 1625. he was chosen to be a Clerk of the Convocation for the Diocese of Lincoln, which I here mention, because about that time did arise many disputes about Predestination, and the many Critical Points that depend upon, or are interwoven in it; occasioned, as was said, by a disquisition of new Principles of Mr. Calvin 's (though others say they were long before his time.) But of these Dr. Sanderson then drew up for his own satisfaction such a Scheme (he called it Pax Ecclesia ) as then gave himself, and hath since given others such satisfaction, that it still remains to be of great estimation. He was also chosen Clerk of all the Convocations during that good Kings reign. Which I here tell my Reader, because I shall hereafter have occasion to mention that Convocation in 1640. that unhappy long Parliament, and some debates of the Predestinarian Points, as they have been since charitably handled betwixt him, the learned Dr. Hammond, and Dr. Pierce, the now reverend Dean of Salisbury. And here the Reader may note, that in Letters writ to the said Dean, Dr. Sanderson seems to have altered his Judgment in some Points, since he writ his Scheme called Pax Ecclesia, which he seems to say in his last Will, besides other reasons to think so.

In the year 1636. his Majesty then in his Progress took a fair occasion to visit Oxford, and to take an entertainment for two days for himself and his honorable Attendants, which the Reader ought to believe was suitable to their dignities: But, this is mentioned, because at the King's coming thither May 3. Sanderson did then attend him; and was then (the 31 of August ) created Doctor of Divinity; which honor had an addition to it, by having many of the Nobility of this Nation then made Doctors and Masters of Art with him: Some of whose names shall be recorded and live with his (and none shall out-live it.) First Dr. Curle and Dr. Wren, who were then Bishops of Winton and of Norwich (and had formerly taken their Degrees in Cambridge ) were with him created Doctors of Divinity in his University. So was Merick the Son of the learned Izaac Causabon; and Prince Rupert (who still lives) the then Duke of Lenox, Earl of Hereford, Earl of Essex, of Barkshire, and very many others of noble Birth (too many to be named) were then created Masters of Arts.

Some years before the unhappy long Parliament, this Nation being then happy and in peace (though inwardly sick of being well) namely in the year 1639. a discontented party of the Scots Church were zealously restless for another Reformation of their K • rk Government; and to that end created a new Covenant, for the general taking of which they pretended to petition the King for his assent, and that he would enjoin the taking of it by all of that Nation: but this Petition was not to be presented to him by a Committee of eight or ten men of their Fraternity, but by so many thousands, and they so armed, as seemed to force an assent to what they seemed but to request; so that though forbidden by the King, yet they entered England, and in their heat of Zeal took and plundered New-Castle, where the King was forced to meet them with an Army; but upon a Treaty and some concessions, he sent them back (though not so rich as they intended, yet) for that time without blood-shed: But oh! this Peace and this Covenant were but the forerunners of War, and the many miseries that followed: For in the year following there were so many chosen into the long Parliament, that were of a conjunct Council with these very zealous, and as factious Reformers, as begot such a confusion by the several desires & designs in many of the Members of that Parliament (all did never consent) and at last in the very common People of this Nation, that they were so lost by contrary designs, fears and confusions, as to believe the Scots and their Covenant would restore them to that former tranquility which they had lost. And to that end, the Presbyterian Party of this Nation did again, in the year 1643. invite the Scotch Covenanters back into England▪ and hither they came marching with it gloriously upon their Pikes, and in their Hats with this Motto, For the Crown and Covenant of both Kingdoms, This I saw and suffered by it. But when I look back upon the ruin of Families, the bloodshed, the decay of common honesty, and how the former piety and plain-dealing of this now sinful Nation is turned into cruelty and cunning! when I consider this, I praise God that he prevented me from being of that Party which helped to bring in this Covenant, and those sad confusions that have followed it. And I have been the bolder to say this of myself, because in a sad discourse with Dr. Sanderson, I heard him make the like grateful acknowledgment.

This digression is intended for the better information of the Reader in what will follow concerning Dr. Sanderson. And first, That the Covenanters of this Nation, and their Party in Parliament, made many Exceptions against the Common-Prayer and Ceremonies of the Church, and seemed restless for another Reformation: And though their desires seemed not reasonable to the King and the learned Dr. Laud, then Archbishop of Canterbury; and many others; yet to quiet their Consciences, and prevent future confusion; they did in the year 1641. desire Dr. Sanderson to call two more of the Convocation to advise with him, and that he would then draw up some such safe alterations as he thought fit in the Service-Book, and abate some of the Ceremonies that were least material, for satisfying their consciences▪ and to this end he and two others did meet together privately twice a week at the Dean of Westminster 's House, (for the space of five months or more.) But not long after that time, when Dr. Sanderson had made the Reformation ready for a view, the Church and State were both fallen into such a confusion, that Dr. Sanderson 's Model for Reformation became then useless. Nevertheless the Repute of his Moderation and Wisdom was such, that he was in the year 1642. proposed by both Houses of Parliament to the King then in Oxford, to be one of their Trustees for the settling of Church affairs, and was allowed of by the King to be so; but that Treaty came to nothing.

In the year 1643. the two Houses of Parliament took upon them to make an Ordinance, and call an Assembly of Divines, to debate and settle Church-controversies (of which many that were elected were very unfit to judge:) in which Dr. Sanderson was also named by the Parliament, but did not appear, I suppose for the same reason that many other worthy and learned men did forbear, the Summons wanting the King's Authority.

And here I must look back and tell the Reader, that in the year 1642. he was ( July 21.) named by a more undoubted Authority to a more noble employment, which was to be Professor Regius of Divinity in Oxford; but though Knowledge be said to puff up, yet his modesty and too mean an opinion of his great Abilities, and some other real or pretended reasons (expressed in his Speech, when he first appeared in the Chair, and since printed) kept him from entering into it till October 1646.

He did for about a years time continue to read his matchless Lectures, which were first de Iuramento, a Point very Seraphical, and as difficult, and at that time very dangerous to be handled as it ought to be. But this learned man, as he was eminently furnished with Abilities to satisfy the Consciences of men upon that important Subject; so he wanted not courage to assert the true obligation of it, and Oaths, in a degenerate Age, when men had made perjury a main part, or at least very useful to their Religion. How much the learned World stands obliged to him for these and his following Lectures de Conscientia, I shall not attempt to declare, as being very sensible that the best Pens fall short in the commendation of them: So that I shall only add, That they continue to this day, and will do forever, as a complete standard for the resolution of the most material doubts in that part of • asuistical Divinity: And therefore I proceed to tell the Reader, That about the time of his reading those Lectures (the King being then Prisoner in the Iste of Wight ) that part of the Parliament then at Westminster sent the Covenant, the Negative Oath, and I know not what more to Oxford, to be taken by the Doctor of the Chair, and all Heads of Houses: and all the other in • eriour Scholars of what degree soever, were also to take these Oaths by a fixed day; for those that did not were to abandon their Colleges and the University too, within 24 hours after the beating of a Drum; And if they remained longer, they were to be proceeded against as Spies.

Dr. Laud the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Earl of Strafford, and many others, had been formerly murdered, but the King yet was not; and the University had yet some faint hopes that in a Treaty then in being, betwixt him and them that confined him, or pretended to be suddenly, there might be such an Agreement made, that the Dissenters in the University might both preserve their Consciences, and the poor Subsistance which they then enjoyed by their Colleges.

And being possessed of this mistaken hope, That the men in present Power were not yet grown so merciless, as not to allow manifest reason for their not submitting to the enjoin'd Oaths, the University appointed twenty Delegates to meet, consider, and draw up a Manifesto to them, why they could not take those Oaths but by violation of their Consciences: And of these Delegates Dr. Shelden (late Archbishop of Canterbury ) Dr. Hammond, Dr. Sanderson, Dr. Morley (now Bishop of Winchester ) and that most honest, very learned, and as judicious Civil Lawyer, Dr. Zouch, were a part; the rest I cannot now name; but the whole number of the Delegates requested Dr. Zouch to draw up the Law part, and give it to Dr. Sanderson, and he was requested to methodize and add what refer'd to Reason and Conscience, and put it into form. He yielded to their desires, and did so. And then after they had been read in a full Convocation, and allowed of, they were printed in Latin, that the Parliaments proceedings and the Universities sufferings might be manifested to all Nations; and the Imposers of these Oaths might repent, or answer them: but they were past the first; and for the latter, I might swear they neither can, nor ever will. And these reasons were also suddenly turned into English by Dr. Sanderson, that all those of these three Kingdoms might the better judge of the cause of the Loyal Parties sufferings.

About this time the Independents (who were then grown to be the most powerful part of the Army) had taken the King from a close to a more large imprisonment, and by their own pretences to liberty of Conscience, were obliged to allow somewhat like that to the King, (who had in the year 1646. sent for Dr. Sanderson, Dr. Hammond, Dr. Sheldon (the late Archbishop of Canterbury ) and Dr. Morley (the now Bishop of Winchester ) to attend him, in order) to advise with them, how far he might with a good Conscience comply with the Proposals of the Parliament for a Peace in Church and State; but these having been then denied him by the Presbyterian Parliament, were now by their own rules allowed him by those Independents now in present power. And with some of those Divines, Dr. Sanderson also gave his attendance on his Majesty in the Isle of Wight; preached there before him, and had in that attendance many, both public and private Conferences with him, to his Majesty's great satisfaction. At which time he desired Dr. Sanderson, that being the Parliament had then proposed to him the abolishing of Episcopal Government in the Church, as inconsistant with Monarchy, and selling theirs and the Cathedral Church-Land to pay those Soldiers that they had raised to fight against him, that he would consider of it, and declare his judgment: He undertook to do so, and did it; but it might not be printed till our King's happy restoration, and then it was. And at Dr. Sanderson 's then taking his leave of his Majesty in this his last attendance on him, the King requested him to betake himself to the writing Cases of Conscience for the good of Posterity. To which his answer was, That he was now grown old, and unfit to write Cases of Conscience. But the King was so bold with him as to say; It was the simplest answer he ever heard from Dr. Sanderson; for no young man was fit to be made a Judge, or write Cases of Conscience. And let me here take occasion to tell the Reader this truth, very fit, but not commonly known; that in one of these Conferences this Conscientious King was told by a faithful and private Intelligencer, that if he assented not to the Parliaments Proposals, the Treaty 'twixt him and them would break immediately, and his life would then be in danger; he was sure he knew it. To which his answer was, I have done what I can to bring my Conscience to a compliance with their Proposals and cannot, and I will not lose my Conscience to save my Life; and within a very short time after, he told Dr. Sanderson and Dr. Morley, or one of them that then waited with him,

I am sure one of them that told it me, lives still, and will witness it. And it ought to be observed, that Dr. Sanderson 's Lectures de Iuramento were so approved and valu'd by the King, that in this time of his imprisonment and solitude, he translated them into exact Enlish, desiring Dr. Iuxson (then Bishop of London ) Dr. Hammond, and Sir Thomas Herbert (who then attended him in his restraint) to compare them with the Original. The last still lives, and has declared it, with some other of that King's excellencies, in a Letter under his own hand, which was lately showed me by Sir William Dugdale, King at Arms. The translation was designed to be put into the King's Library at St. James 's, but I doubt, not now to be found there. I thought the honor of the Author and the Translator to be both so much concerned in this Relation, that it ought not to be concealed from the Reader, and 'tis therefore here inserted.

I now return to Dr. Sanderson in the Chair in Oxford, where they that comply'd not in taking the Covenant, Negative Oath, and Parliament Ordinance for Church Discipline and Worship, were under a sad and daily apprehension of Expulsion; for the Visiters were daily expected, and both City and University full of Soldiers, and a party of Presbyterian Divines, that were as greedy and ready to possess, as the ignorant and ill natured Visiters were to eject the Dissenters out of their Colleges and Livelyhoods: But notwithstanding Dr. Sanderson did still continue to read his Lecture, and did to the very faces of those Presbyterian Divines and Soldiers, read with so much reason, and with a calm fortitude make such applications, as if they were not, they ought to have been ashamed, and begged pardon of God and him, and forborne to do what followed. But these thriving sinners were hardened; and as the Visiters expel'd the Orthodox, they without scruple or shame, possessed themselves immediately of their Colleges; so that with the rest, Dr. Sanderson was (in June 1648) forced to pack up and be gone, and thank God he was not imprisoned, as Dr. Shelden, Dr. Hammond, and others then were.

I must now again look back to Oxford, and tell my Reader, that the year before this expulsion, when the University had denied this Subscription, and apprehended the danger of that Visitation which followed, they sent Dr. Morley, then Canon of Christ-Church (now Lord Bishop of Winchester ) and others, to petition the Parliament for re-calling the Injunction, or a mitigation of it, or to accept of their Reasons why they could not take the Oaths enjoin'd them; and the Petition was by Parliament refer'd to a Committee to hear and report the Reasons to the House, and a day set for hearing them. This done Dr. Morley and the rest went to inform & fee Counsel, to plead their Cause on the day appointed: but there had been so many committed for pleading, that none durst be so bold as to undertake it cordially; for at this time the privileges of that part of the Parliament then sitting were become a Noli me tangere; as sacred and useful to them, as Traditions ever were, or are now to the Church of Rome; their number must never be known, and therefore not without danger to be meddled with. For which Reason Dr. Morley was forced, for want of Counsel, to plead the Universities Reasons for not compliance with the Parliaments injunctions; and though this was done with great reason, and a boldness equal to the Justice of his Cause, yet the effect of it was, but that he and the rest appearing with him were so fortunate, as to return to Oxford without commitment. This was some few days before the Visiters and more Soldiers were sent down to drive the Dissenters out of the University. And one that was at this time of Dr. Morley 's pleading, a powerful man in the Parliament, and of that Committee, observing Dr. Morley 's behavior & reason, & inquiring of him, and hearing a good report of his Principles in Religion, and of his Morals, was therefore willing to afford him a peculiar favor; and that he might express it, sent for me that relate this Story, and knew Dr. Morley well, and told me, He had such a love for Dr. Morley, that knowing he would not take the Oaths, and must therefore he ejected his College, and leave Oxford; he desired I would therefore write to him to ride out of Oxford when the Visiters came into it, and not return till they left it, and he should be sure then to return in safety; and that by so doing he should without taking any Oath or other molestation, enjoy his Canons place in the College. I did receive this intended kindness with a sudden gladness, because I was sure the party had a power to do what he professed, and as sure he meant to perform it, and did therefore write the Doctor word; to which his Answer was, That I must not fail to return my Friend (who still lives) his humble and undissembled thanks, though he could not accept of his intended kindness; for when Dr. Fell ( then the Dean) Dr. Gardner, Dr. Paine, Dr. Hammond, Dr. Sanderson, and all the rest of the College, were turned out, except Dr. Wall, he should take it to be, if not a sin, yet a shame to be left behind with him only. Dr. Wall I knew, and will speak nothing of him, for he is dead.

It may be easily imagined, with what a joyful willingness these self-loving Reformers took possession of all vacant preferments, and with what reluctance others parted with their beloved Colleges and Subsistance: but their Consciences were dearer than both, and out they went; the Reformers possessing them without shame or scruple, where I will leave these Scruple-Mongers, and proceed to make an account of the then present Affairs of London, to be the next employment of my Readers patience.

And in London all the Bishops Houses were turned to be Prisons, and they filled with Divines that would not take the Covenant, or forbear reading Common-Prayer, or that were accused for some faults like these. For it may be noted, That about this time the Parliament sent out a Proclamation to encourage all Lay-men that had occasion to complain of their Ministers, for being troublesome or scandalous, or that conformed not to Orders of Parliament, to make their complaint to a select Committee for that purpose; and the Minister though one hundred miles from London, was to appear there and give satisfaction, or be sequestered; (and you may be sure no Parish could want a covetous, or malicious, or cross-grain'd complainant:) by which means all Prisons in London, and in many other places, became the sad habitations of Conforming Divines.

And about this time the Bishop of Canterbury having been by an unknown Law condemned to die, and the execution suspended for some days, many Citizens fearing time and cool thoughts might procure his Pardon, became so maliciously impudent as to shut up their shops, professing not to open them till Justice was executed. This malice and madness is scarce credible, but I saw it.

The Bishops had been about this time voted out of the House of Parliament, and some upon that occasion sent to the Tower, which made many Covenanters rejoice, and most of them to believe Mr. Brightman (who probably was a well meaning man) to be inspired when he writ his Comment on the Apocalypse; a short Abridgment of which was now printed, cried up and down the Streets and called Mr. Brightman 's Revelation of the Revelation, and both bought up and believed by all the Covenanters: And though he was grossly mistaken in other things, yet, because he had there made the Churches of Geneva and Scotland, (which had no Bishops) to be Philadelphia in the Apocalypse, that Angel that God loved; and the power of Prelacy to be Antichrist, the evil Angel, which the House of Commons had now so spewed up, as never to recover their dignity: Therefore did those Covenanters rejoice, approve, and applaud Mr. Brightman, for discovering and foretelling the Bishops downfall; so that they both rail'd at them, and at the same time rejoiced to buy good penny-worths of all their Land, which their Friends of the House of Commons, did afford both to themselves and them, as a reward for their zeal and diligent assistance to pull them down.

And the Bishops power being now vacated, the common people were made so happy, as that every Parish might choose their own Minister, and tell him when he did, and when he did not preach true Doctrine: and by this and the like means several Churches had several Teachers, that prayed and preached for and against one another; and engaged their hearers to contend furiously for truths which they understood not; some of which I shall mention in what will follow.

I have heard of two men that in their discourse undertook to give a character of a third person; and one concluded he was a very honest man, for he was beholden to him; and the other that he was not, for he was not beholden to him. And something like this was in the designs both of the Covenanters and Independents (the last of which were now grown both as numerous and as powerful as the former:) for though they differed much in many Principles, and preached against each other, one making it a sign of being in the state of grace, if we were but zealous for the Covenant; and the other not: for we ought to buy and sell by a Measure, and to allow the same liberty of Conscience to others, which we by Scripture claim to ourselves; and therefore not to force any to swear the Covenant contrary to their Consciences, and probably lose both their Livings and Liberties too. But though these differed thus in their conclusions, yet they both agreed in their practice to preach down Common Prayer, and get into the best sequestered Livings; and whatever became of the true Owners, their Wives and Children, yet to continue in them without the least scruple of Conscience.

They also made other strange Observations of Election, Reprobation, and Free-will, and the other Points Dependant upon these; such as the wisest of the common People were not fit to judge of: I am sure I am not, though I must mention some of them historically in a more proper place, when I have brought my Reader with me to Dr. Sanderson at Boothly Pannel.

And in the way thither I must tell him, That a very Covenanter and a Scot too, that came into England with this unhappy Covenant, was got into a good sequestered Living by the help of a Presbyterian Parish, which had got the true Owner out. And this Scotch Presbyterian being well settled in this good Living, began to reform the Church-yard, by cutting down a large Ewe Tree, and some other Trees that were an ornanament to the place, and very often a shelter to the Parishioners: and they excepting against him for so doing, were by him answered, That the Trees were his, and 'twas lawful for every man to use his one as he, and not as others thought fit. I have heard (but do not affirm it) That no action lies against him that is so wicked as to steal the winding-sheet from off a dead body after 'tis buried; and have heard the reason to be, because none were supposed to be so void of humanity; and, that such a Law would vilify that Nation that would but suppose so vile a man to be born in it: I speak this because I would not suppose any man to do what this Covenanter did: And whether there were any Law against him I know not, but pity the Parish the less for turning out their legal Minister.

We have now overtaken Dr. Sanderson at Boothy Pannel, where he hoped to have enjoyed himself, though in a poor, yet in a quiet and desired privacy; but it proved otherwise: For all Corners of the Nation were filled with Covenanters, Confusion, Committee-men and Soldiers, defacing Monuments, breaking painted Glass Windows, and serving each other to their several ends, of Revenge, or Power, or Profit; and these Committee-men and Soldiers were most of them so possessed with this Covenant, that they became like those that were infected with that dreadful Plague of Athens; the Plague of which Plague was, that they by it became maliciously restless to get into company, and to joy (so the Historian saith) when they had infected others, even those of their most beloved or nearest Friends or Relations; and so though there might be some of these Covenanters that were beguile'd, and meant well; yet such were the generality of them, and temper of the times, that you may be sure Dr. Sanderson, who though quiet and harmless, yet was an eminent Dissenter from them, could therefore not live peaceably; nor did he: For the Soldiers would appear, and visibly oppose and disturb him in the Church when he read Prayers, some of them pretending to advise him how God was to be served more acceptably which he not approving, but continuing to observe order and decent behavior in reading the Church Service they forced his Book from him, and tore it, expecting extemporary Prayers.

At this time he was advised by a Parliament-man of Power and note, that loved and valued him much, not to be strict in reading all the Common Prayer, but make some little variation, especially if the Soldiers came to watch him; for if he did, it might not be in the Power of him and his other Friends to secure him from taking the Covenant, or Sequestration for which Reasons he did vary somewhat from the strict Rules of the Rubric. I will set down the very words of Confession which he used, as I have it under his own hand; and tell the Reader that all his other variations were as little, and very much like to this.

In these and other provocations of rearing his Service Book, a Neighbor came on a Sunday, after the Evening Service was ended, to visit and condole with him for the affront offered by the Soldiers. To whom he spake withly a domposed patience, and said; God hath restored me to my desired pr • vicy with my Wife and Children, where I hoped to have met with quietness; and it proves not so; but I will labor to be pleased, because God, on whom I depend, sees 'tis not • it for me to be quiet. I praise him that he hath by his grace prevented me from making shipwreck of a good Conscience to maintain me in a place of great reputation and profit: and though my condition be such, that I need the last; yet I submit: for God did not send me into this World to do my own, but suffer his Will, and I will obey it. Thus by a sublime depending on his wise and powerful, and pitiful Creator, he did cheerfully submit to what God had appointed; still justifying the truth of that Doctrine and the reason of that Discipline which he had preached.

About this time that excellent Book of the King's Meditations in his Solitude was printed, and made public; and Dr. Sanderson was such a lover of the Author, and so desirous that not this Nation only, but the whole world should see the character of him in that Book, and something of the cause for which he and many others then suffered, that he designed to turn it into Latin: but when he had done half of it most excellently, his Friend Dr. Earl prevented him, by appearing to have done it, and printed the whole very well before him.

And about this time his dear and most intimate Friend, the learned Dr. Hammond, came to enjoy a quiet conversation and rest with him for some days at Boothby Pannel, and did so. And having formerly persuaded him to trust his excellent memory, and not read, but try to speak a Sermon as he had writ it. Dr. Sanderson became so compliant as to promise he would. And to that end they two went early the Sunday following to a Neighbor Minister, and requested to exchange a Sermon; and they did so. And at Dr. Sanderson 's going into the Pulpit, he gave his Sermon (which was a very short one) into the hand of Dr. Hammond, intending to preach it as 'twas writ; but before he had preached a third part, Dr. Hammond (looking on his Sermon as written) observed him to be out, and so lost as to the Matter, especially the Method, that he also became afraid for him; for 'twas discernible to many of that plain Auditory: But when he had ended this short Sermon, as they two walked homeward, Dr. Sanderson said with much earnestness, Good Doctor give me my Sermon, and know, that neither you, nor any man living, shall ever persuade me to preach again without my Books. To which the reply was, Good Doctor be not angry; for if I ever persuade you to preach again without Book, I will give you leave to burn all the Books that I am Master of.

Part of the occasion of Doctor Hammond 's visit was at this time, to discourse Dr. Sanderson about some Opinions, in which if they did not then, they had doubtless differed formerly; 'twas about those knotty Points, which are by the Learned called the Quinquarticular Controversy; of which I shall proceed, not to given any▪ Judgment (I pretend not to that) but some short Historical Account which shall follow.

There had been, since the unhappy Covenant was brought, and so generally taken in England, a liberty given or taken by many Preachers (those of London especially) to preach and be too positive in the Points of Universal Redemption, Predestination, and those other depending upon these. Some of which preached That all men were, before they came into this world, so predestinated to salvation or damnation, that 'twas not in their power to sin so, as to lose the first, nor by their most diligent endeavor to avoid the latter. Others, That 'twas not so; because then God could not be said to grieve for the death of a sinner, when he himself had made him so by an inevitable decree, before he had so much as a being in this world; affirming therefore, that man had some power left him to do the will of God, because he was advised to work out his salvation with fear and trembling; maintaining, that 'tis most certain every man can do what he can to be saved; and as certain that he that does what he can to be saved, shall never be damned: And yet many that affirmed this to be a truth, would yet confess, That that grace, which is but a persuasive offer, and left to us to receive or refuse; is not that grace which shall bring men to Heaven. Which truths, or untruths, or both, be they which they will, did upon these or the like occasions come to be searched into, and charitably debated betwixt Dr. Sanderson, Dr. Hammond, and Dr. Pierce (the now reverend Dean of Salisbury ) of which I shall proceed to give some account, but briefly.

In the year 1648. the 52 London Ministers (then a Fraternity of Zion College in that City) had in a printed Declaration aspers'd Dr. Hammond most heinously, for that he had in his Practical Catechism affirmed, That our Savior died for the sins of all mankind. To justify which truth, he presently makes a charitable Reply (as 'tis now printed in his Works.) After which there were many Letters past betwixt the said Dr. Hammond, Dr. Sanderson, and Dr. Pierce, concerning God's grace and decrees. Dr. Sanderson was with much unwillingness drawn into this Debate; for he declared it would prove uneasy to him, who in his judgment of God's decrees, differed with Dr. Hammond (whom he reverenced and loved dearly) and would not therefore engage himself in a Controversy, of which he could never hope to see and end: nevertheless they did all enter into a charitable disquisition of these said Points in several Letters, to the full satisfaction of the Learned; those betwixt Dr. Sanderson and Dr. Hammond being now printed in his Works▪ and for what past betwixt him and the learned Dr. Pierce, I refer my Reader to a Letter sent to me and annexed to the end of this Relation.

I think the Judgment of Dr. Sanderson was by these Debates altered from what it was at his entrance into them; for in the year 1632, when his excellent Sermons were first printed in 4 ^o the Reader may on the Margent find some accusation of Arminius for false Doctrine; and find, that upon a review and reprinting those Sermons in folio in the year 1657. that accusation of Arminius is omitted. And the change of his judgment seems more fully to appear in his said Letter to Dr. Pierce. And let me now tell the Reader, which may seem to be perplexed with these several affirmations of God's decrees before mentioned, that Dr. Hammond in a Postscript to the last Letter of his to Dr. Sanderson, says, God can reconcile his own contradictions, and therefore advises all men, as the Apostle does, to study mortification, and be wise to sobriety. And let me add further, that if these 52 Ministers of Zion College were the occasion of the Debates in these Letters; they have, I think, been the occasion of giving an end to the Quinquarticular Controversy; for none have since undertaken to say more; but seem to be so wise, as to be content to be ignorant of the rest, till they come to that place, where the secrets of all hearts shall be laid open. And let me here tell the Reader also; that if the rest of mankind would, as Dr. Sanderson, not conceal their alteration of Judgment, but confess it to the honor of God and themselves; then, our Nation would become freer from pertinacious Disputes, and fuller of Recantations.

I am not willing to lead my Reader to Dr. Hammond and Dr. Sanderson where we left them together at Boothly Pannel, till I have looked back to the long Parliament, the Society of Covenanters in Zion College, and those others scattered up and down in London, and given some account of their proceedings and usage of the late learned Dr. Laud, then Archbishop of Canterbury, whose life seemed to be sacrificed, to appease the popular fury of that present time. And though I will forbear to mention the injustice of his death, and the barbarous usage of him, both at his Trial and before it; yet my desire is, that what follows may be noted, because it does now, or may hereafter concern us; that is, to note, That in his last sad Sermon on the Scaffold at his death, he did (as our blessed Savior advised his Disciples,) Pray for those that persecuted and despitefully used him. And not only pardoned those Enemies; but passionately beg'd of Almighty God that he would also pardon them; and besought all the present beholders of this sad sight, that they would pardon and pray for him: But though' he did all this, yet, he seemed to accuse the Magistrates of the City, for not suppressing a sort of people whose malicious and furious Zeal, had so far transported them, and violated all modesty; that though' they could not know, whether he were justly or unjustly condemned, were yet suffered to go visibly up and down to gather hands to a Petition, that the Parliament would hasten his Execution. And he having declared how unjustly he thought himself to be condemned, and accused for endeavoring to bring in Popery (for that was one of the Accusations for which he died) he declared with sadness, That the several Sects and Divisions then in England (which he had labored to prevent) were now like to bring the Pope a far greater harvest, than he could ever have expected without them. And said, these Sects and Divisions introduce profaneness under the cloak of • an imaginary Religion; and, that we have lost the substance of Religion by changing it into Opinion; and, that by these means the Church of • England, which all the Jesuits machinations could not ruin, was fallen into apparent danger by those (Covenanters) which were his Accusers. To this purpose he spoke at his death: for which, and more to the same purpose, the Reader may view his last sad Sermon on the Scaffold. And 'tis here mentioned, because his dear Friend Dr. Sanderson seems to demonstrate the same fear of Popery in his two large and remarkable Prefaces before his two Volumes of Sermons; and seems also with much sorrow to say the same again in his last Will, made when he was and apprehended himself to be very near his death. And these Covenanters ought to take notice of it; and to remember, that by the late wicked War began by them, Dr. Sanderson was ejected out of the Professors Chair in Oxford; and that if he had continued in it (for he lived 14 years after) both the Learned of this and other Nations had been made happy by many remarkable Cases of Conscience, so rationally stated, and so briefly, so clearly, and so convincingly determined, that Posterity might have joyed and boasted, That Dr. Sanderson was born in this Nation, for the ease and benefit of all the Learned that shall be born after him: But, this benefit is so like time past, that they are both irrecoverably lost.

I should now return to Boothby Pannel where we left Dr. Hammond and Dr. Sanderson together, but neither can now be found there: For, the first was in his Journey to Londoni, and the second seized upon the day after his Friends departure, and carried Prisoner to Lincoln, then a Garrison of the Parliaments. For the pretended reason of which Commitment, I shall give this following account.

There was one Mr. Clarke, (the Minister of Alington, a Town not many miles from Boothby Pannel, ) who was an active man for the Parliament and Covenant; and one that, when Belvoire Castle (then a Garrison for the Parliament) was taken by a Party of the King's Soldiers, was taken in it, and made a Prisoner of War in Newark, (then a Garrison of the Kings;) a man so active and useful for his Party, that they became so much concerned for his enlargement, that the Committee of Lincoln sent a Troop of Horse to seize and bring Dr. Sanderson a Prisoner to that Garrison; and they did so. And there he had the happiness to meet with many, that knew him so well as to reverence and treat him kindly; but told him, He must continue their Prisoner, till he should purchase his own enlargement by procuring an Exchange for Mr. Clarke then Prisoner in the King's Garrison of Newark. There were many Reasons given by the Doctor of the Injustice of his Imprisonment, and the Inequality of the Exchange, but all were ineffectual: For done it must be, or he continue a Prisoner. And in time done it was upon the following Conditions.

First, That Dr. Sanderson and Mr. Clarke being Exchanged, should live undisturb'd at their own Parishes; and if either were injured by the Soldiers of the contrary Party, the other having notice of it, should procure him a Redress, by having satisfaction made for his loss, or for any other injury; or if not, he to be used in the same kind by the other Party. Nevertheless, Dr. Sanderson could neither live safe, nor quietly, being several times plundered, and once wounded in three places; but he, apprehending the remedy might turn to a more intolerable burden by impatience or complaining, forbore both: and possessed his Soul in a contented quietness, without the least repining. But though he could not enjoy the safety he expected by this Exchange, yet by his Providence that can bring good out of evil, it turned so much to his advantage, that whereas his Living had been Sequestred from the Year 1644, and continued to be so till this time of his Imprisonment, he, by the Articles of War in this Exchange for Mr. Clarke, procured his Sequestration to be recalled, and by that means enjoy'd a poor but more contented subsistence for himself, his Wife and Children, till the happy Restauration of our King and Church.

In this time of his poor, but contented privacy of life, his Casuistical Learning, Peaceful Moderation and Sincerity, became so remarkable, that there were many that applied themselves to him for Resolution in perplexed Cases of Conscience; some known to him, and many not; some requiring satisfaction by Conference, others by Letters; so many, that his life became almost as restless as their minds; yet—as St. Paul accounted himself a Debtor to all men, so he, for he denied none. And if it be a truth which holy Mr. Herbert says, That all worldly joys seem less, when compared with showing mercy, or doing kindnesses; then doubtless this Barnabas, this son of Consolation, Dr. Sanderson might have boasted for relieving so many restless and wounded Consciences; which, as Solomon says, are a burden that none can bear, though their fortitude may sustain their other Calamities: and if words cannot express the joy of a Conscience relieved from such restless Agonies; then Dr. Sanderson might rejoice, that so many were by him so clearly and conscientiously satisfied; and would often praise God for that ability, and as often for the occasion; and, that

Some of those very many Cases that were resolved by Letters, have been preserved and printed for the benefit of Posterity; as namely,

• 1. Of the Sabbath.
• 2. Marrying with a Recusant.
• 3. Of unlawful Love.
• 4. Of a Military life.
• 5. Of Scandal.
• 6. Of a Bond taken in the King's Name.
• 7. Of the Ingagement.
• 8. Of a rash Vow.

But many more remain in private hands, of which one is of Simony; and I wish the World might see it, that it might undeceive so many mistaken Patrons, who think they have discharged that great and dangerous trust, both to God and Man, if they take no money for a Living, though it may be parted with for other ends less justifiable, which I forbear to name.

And in this time of his retirement, when the common people were amazed and grown restless and giddy by the many falsehoods, and misapplications of Truths frequently vented in Sermons, when they wrested the Scripture by challenging God to be of their party, and called upon him in their Prayers to patronize their Sacrilege and zealous Frenzies in this time, he did so compassionate the generality of this misled Nation, that though the Times threatened such an undertaking with danger; yet, he then hazarded his safety by writing the large and bold Preface now extant before his last 20 Sermons, (first Printed in the dangerous Year 1655.) In which there was such strength of Reason, with so powerful and clear convincing Applications made to the Nonconformists, as being read by one of those dissenting Brethren, who was possessed of a good sequester'd Living, and with it such a spirit of Covetousness and Contradiction, as being neither able to defend his error, no yield to truth manifested (his Conscience having slept long and quietly in that Living) was yet at the reading of it so awakened, (for there is a Divine Power in reason) that after a conflict with the reason he had met, and the damage he was to sustain if he consented to it (and being still unwilling to be so convinced, as to lose by being over-reason'd) he went in haste to the Bookseller of whom 'twas bought, threatened him, and told him in anger, he had sold a Book in which there was false Divinity; and that the Preface had upraided the Parliament, and many godly Ministers of that Party for unjust dealing. —To which his Reply was, ('twas Tim. Garthwaite) That 'twas not his Trade to judge of true or false Divinity, but to print and sell Books; and yet if he, or any Friend of his would write an Answer to it, and own it by setting his Name to it, he would print the Answer, and promote the selling of it.

About the time of his Printing this excellent Preface, I met him accidentally in London in sad-coloured Cloaths, and God knows, far from being costly: the place of our meeting was near to Little Britain, where we had been to buy a Book, which he then had in his hand: we had no inclination to part presently; and therefore turned to stand in a corner under a Penthouse (for it began to rain) and immediately the Wind rose, and the rain increased so much, that both became so inconvenient, as to force us into a cleanly house, where we had Bread, Cheese, Ale, and a Fire for our ready money. This rain and wind were so obliging to me, as to force our stay there for at least an hour, to my great content and advantage; for in that time he made to me many useful observations of the present Times with much clearness and conscientious freedom. I shall relate a part of them, in hope they may also turn to the advantage of my Reader.—He seemed to lament, that the Parliament had taken upon them to abolish our Liturgy, to the grief and scandal of so many Devout and Learned Men, and the disgrace of those many Martyrs, who had sealed the truth and necessary use of it with their Blood: and that no Minister was now thought godly that did not decry it; and, at least, pretend to make better Prayers ex tempore: and that they, and only they that could do so, prayed by the Spirit, and were godly; though in their Sermons they disputed; and evidently contradicted each other in their Prayers. And as he did dislike this, so he did most highly commend the Common-Prayer of the Church, saying, The Holy Ghost seemed to assist the Composers: and, that the effect of a Constant use of it, would be, to melt and form the Soul into holy thoughts and desires: and, beget habits of Devotion. —This he said: and that the Collects were the most passionate, proper, and most elegant comprehensive expressions that any Language ever afforded; and that there was in them such Piety, and that, so interwoven with Instructions, that they taught us to know the Power, the Wisdom, the Majesty, and Mercy of God, and much of our Duty both to Him and our Neighbor; and that a Congregation behaving themselves reverently, and putting up to God these joint and known desires for pardon of sins, and their praises for mercies received, could not but be more pleasing to God, than those raw unpremeditated expressions which many understood not, and to which many of the hearers could not say Amen.

And he then commended to me the frequent use of the Psalter or Psalms of David; speaking to this purpose, That they were the Treasury of Christian Comfort, fitted for all persons and all necessities; able to raise the Soul from dejection by the frequent mention of God's Mercies to repentant Sinners; able to stir up holy desires; to increase joy; to moderate sorrow; to nourish hope, and teach us patience, by waiting God's leisure for what we beg: able to beget a trust in the Mercy, Power, and Providence of our Creator; and to cause a resignation of ourselves to his Will; and then (and not till then) to believe ourselves happy. This he said the Liturgy and Psalms taught us; and that by the frequent use of the last they would not only prove to be our Souls comfort, but would become so habitual, as to transform them into the image of his Soul that composed them.—After this manner he expressed himself and sorrow, concerning the Liturgy and Psalms; and seemed to lament that this, which was the Devotion of the more Primitive Times, should in common Pulpits be turned into needless debates about Free-will, Election, and Reprobation, of which, and many like Questions, we may be safely ignorant, because Almighty God intends not to lead us to Heaven by hard Questions, but by meekness and charity, and a frequent practice of Devotion.

And he seemed to lament very much, that by the means of irregular and indiscreet Preaching, the generality of the Nation were possessed with such dangerous mistakes, as to think, They might be religious first, and then just and merciful; that they might sell their Consciences, and yet have something left that was worth keeping; that they might be sure they were elected, though their Lives were visibly scandalous; that to be cunning was to be wise; that to be rich was to be happy, though 'tis evidently false; that to speak evil of Government, and to be busy in things they understood not, was no sin. These, and the like mistakes, he lamented much, and besought God to remove them, and restore us to that humility, sincerity, and single-heartedness, with which this Nation was blest, before the unhappy Covenant was brought amongst us, and every Man preached and prayed what seemed best in his own eyes. And he then said to me, That the way to restore this Nation to a more meek and Christian temper, was to have the Body of Divinity (or so much of it as was needful to be known by the Common people) to be put into 52 Homilies, or Sermons, of such a length as not to exceed a third or fourth part of an hours reading; and these needful Points to be made so clear and plain, that those of a mean capacity might know what was necessary to be believed, and what God requires to be done; and then some plain applications of trial and conviction: and these to be read every Sunday of the Year, as infallibly as the blood circulates the body at a set time; and then as certainly begun again, and continued the Year following.

And, he explained the reason of this his desire, by saying to me,— All Grammar Scholars, that are often shifted, from one to another School, learn neither so much, nor their little so truly, as those that are constant to one good Master: because, by the several Rules of teaching in those several Schools, they learn less, and become more and more confused; and at last, so puzzled and perplexed, that their learning proves useless both to themselves and others. And so do the immethodical, useless, needless Notions that are delivered in many Sermons, make the hearers; but a clear and constant rule of teaching us, what we are to know, and do, and what not, and that taught us by an approved authority, might probably bring the Nation to a more Conscientious practice of what we know, and ought to do. Thus did this Prudent Man explain the reason of this his desire: and oh! that he had undertaken what he advised; for then, in all probability it would have proved so useful, that the present Age would have been blest by it: and, Posterity would have blest him for it.

And at this happy time of my enjoying his company and this discourse, he expressed a sorrow by saying to me, O that I had gone Chaplain to that excellently Accomplish'd Gentleman, your Friend, Sir Henry Wootton! which was once intended, when he first went Ambassador to the State of Venice: for by that Employment I had been forced into a necessity of conversing, not with him only, but with several Men of several nations; and might thereby have kept myself from my unmanly bashfulness, which has proved very troublesome, and not less inconvenient to me; and which I now fear is become so habitual as never to leave me: and besides, by that means I might also have known, or at least have had the satisfaction of seeing one of the late Miracles of Mankind, for general Learning, Prudence, and Modesty, Sir Henry Wootton' s dear Friend, Padre Paulo, who, the Author of his Life says, was born with a bashfulness as invincible, as I have found my own to be: A man whose fame must never die, till Virtue and Learning shall become so useless as not to be regarded.

This was a part of the benefit I then had by that hours conversation: and I gladly remember and mention it, as an Argument of my happiness, and his great humility and condescension. I had also a like advantage by another happy Conference with him, which I am desirous to impart in this place to the Reader. He lamented much, that in those times of Confusion many Parishes, where the maintenance was not great, there was no Minister to officiate; and that many of the best Sequestred Livings were possessed with such rigid Covenanters as denied the Sacrament to their Parishioners, unless upon such conditions, and in such a manner as they could not with a good Conscience take it: This he mentioned with much sorrow, saying, The blessed Sacrament did, even by way of preparation for it, give occasion to all conscientious Receivers to examine the performance of their Vows, since they received that last seal for the pardon of their sins past; and also to examine and research their hearts, and make penitent reflections on their failings; and that done to bewail them seriously, and then make new Vows or Resolutions to obey all God's Commands better, and beg his grace to perform them. And that this being faithfully done, then the Sacrament repairs the decays of grace, helps us to conquer infirmities, gives us grace to beg God's grace, and then gives us what we beg; makes us still hunger and thirst after his righteousness, which we then receive, and being assisted with our own endeavors, will still so dwell in us, as to become our Sanctification in this life, and our comfort on our last Sick-beds. The want of this blessed benefit he lamented much and pitied their condition that desired, but could not obtain it,

I hope I shall not disoblige my Reader, if I here enlarge into a further Character of his person and temper. As first, That he was moderately tall; his behavior had in it much of a plain comeliness, and very little (yet enough) of ceremony or courtship; his looks and motion manifested an endearing affability and mildness, and yet he had with these a calm, and so matchless a fortitude, as secured him from complying with any of those many Parliament Injunctions, that interfer'd with a doubtful Conscience. His Learning was methodical and exact; his Wisdom useful; his Integrity visible; and his whole life so unspotted, so like the Primitive Christians, that all ought to be preserved as Copies for Posterity to write after; the Clergy especially; who with impure hands ought not to offer Sacrifice to that God, whose pure Eyes abhor iniquity; and, especially in them.

There was in his Sermons no improper Rhetoric, nor such perplexed divisions, as may be said to be like too much light, that so dazzles the eyes that the sight becomes less perfect: But in them there was no want of useful matter, nor waste of words; and yet such clear distinctions as dispel'd all confused Notions, and made his hearers depart both wiser, and more confirmed in virtuous Resolutions.

His Memory was so matchless and firm, as 'twas only overcome by his bashfulness: for he alone, or to a Friend, could repeat all the Odes of Horace, all Tully's Offices and much of Juvenal and Persius without Book; and would say, The repetition of one of the Odes of Horace to himself, (which he did often) was to him such Music, as a Lesson on the Viol was to others, when they played it voluntarily to themselves or Friends. And though he was blest with a clearer Judgment then other men; yet he was so distrustful of it, that he did usually over-consider of consequences, and would so delay and reconsider what to determine, that though none ever determined better, yet, when the Bell tolled for him to appear and read his Divinity Lectures in Oxford, and all the Scholars attended to hear him, he had not then, or not till then, resolved and writ what he meant to determine; so that that appeared to be a truth, which his old dear Friend Dr. Sheldon would often say of him, namely, That his judgment was so much superior to his fancy, That whatsoever this suggested, that dislik'd and control'd; still considering and reconsidering, till his time was so wasted, that he was forced to write, not (probably) what was best, but what he thought last. And yet what he did then read, appeared to all hearers to be so useful, clear, and satisfactory, as none ever determined with greater applause.

These tiring and perplexing thoughts begot in him some averseness to enter into the toil af considering and determining all Casuistical Points; because during that time they neither gave rest to his Body or Mind. But though he would not suffer his Mind to be always loden with these knotty Points and Distinctions; yet the study of old Records, Genealogies, and Heraldry, were a recreation, and so pleasing, that he would say they gave a pleasant rest to his mind. Of the last of which I have seen two remarkable Volumes; and the Reader needs neither to doubt their truth or exactness.

And this holy humble Man had so conquered all repining and ambitious thoughts, and with them all other unruly passions, that, if the accidents of the day proved to his danger or damage, yet he both began and ended it with an even and undisturbed quietness: always praising God that he had not withdrawn food and raiment from him and his poor Family; nor suffered him in the times of trial to violate his Conscience for his safety, or to support himself or them in a more splendid or plentiful condition; and that he therefore resolved with David, That his praise should be always in his mouth.

I have taken a content in giving my Reader this Character of his Person, his Temper, and some of the Accidents of his life past; and much more might be added of all: But I will with sorrow look forward to the sad days, in which so many good Men, Clergy-men especially, were sufferers; namely, about the Year 1658. at which time Dr. Sanderson was in a very pitiful condition as to his Estate: And in that time Mr. Robert Boyle (a Gentleman of a very Noble Birth, and more Eminent for his Liberality, Learning and Virtue,) and of whom I would say much more, but that he still lives) having casually met with, and read his Lectures de Iuramento, to his great satisfaction, and being informed of Dr. Sanderson's great Innocence and Sincerity, and that he and his Family were brought into a low condition by his not complying with the Parliaments injunctions, sent him by his dear Friend Dr. Barlow, (the now Learned Bishop of Lincoln, ) 50 l. and with it a request and promise: The request was,

— For the more particular account of which, I refer my reader to a Letter writ to me by the said Dr. Barlow, which I have annexed to the end of this Relation.

Towards the beginning of the Year 1600. when the many mixed Sects, and their Creators, and merciless Protectors, had led, or driven each other into a Whirl-pool of Confusion both in Church and State: when amazement and fear had seized most of them by foreseeing, they must now not only Vomit up the Churches, and the Kings Land, but their accusing Consciences did also give them an inward and fearful Intelligence, that the God of opposition, disobedience, and confusion, which they had so long and so diligently feared, was now ready to reward them with such wages as he always pays to Witches for their obeying him. When these Wretches (that had said to themselves, We shall see no sorrow, ) were come to foresee an end of their cruel reign, by our Kings return, and such Sufferers as Dr. Sanderson (and with him many of the oppressed Clergy and others) could foresee the Cloud of their afflictions would be dispersed by it. Then the 29th. of May following, the King was by our good God restored to us, and we to our known Laws and Liberties, and then a general joy and peace seemed to breath through the three Nations; the suffering and sequester'd Clergy (who had like the Children of Israel, sat long lamenting their sad Condition, and hanged their neglected Harps on the Willows that grow by the Rivers of Babylon ) were after many thoughtful days, and restless nights, now freed from their Sequestration, restored to their Revenues, and to a liberty to adore, praise, and pray to Almighty God publicly in such order as their Consciences and Oaths had formerly obliged them. And the Reader will easily believe that Dr. Sanderson and his dejected Family rejoiced to see this happy day, and be of this number.

At this time of the conformable Clergies deliverance, from the Presbyterian severities; the Doctor said to a Friend.

It ought to be considered (which I have often heard or read) that in the Primitive times, men of learning, prudence, and virtue were usually sought for, and solicited to accept of Episcopal Government, and often refused it. For, they conscientiously considered that the Office of a Bishop was not made up of ease and state, but of labor and care: that they were trusted to be of God's Almoners of the Churches Revenue, and double their care for the Churches good, and the poor; to live strictly themselves, and use all diligence to see that their Family, Officers, and Clergy, became examples of innocence and Piety to others; and that the account of that Stewardship must at the last dreadful day be made to the Searcher of all hearts: and for these reasons they were in the Primitive times timorous to undertake it. It may not be said that Dr. Sanderson was accomplished with these, and all the other requisites required in a Bishop, so, as to be able to answer them exactly; but it may be affirmed, as a good preparation, that he had at the Age of 73 years (for he was so old at the King's return) fewer faults to be pardoned by God or Man, than are apparent in others in these days, in which (God knows) we fall so short of that visible sanctity and zeal to God's glory, which was apparent in the days of Primitive Christianity. This is mentioned by way of preparation to what I shall say more of Dr. Sanderson; as namely, That at the King's return Dr. Sheldon, the late prudent Archbishop of Canterbury (than whom none knew, valued, or loved Dr. Sanderson more or better) was by his Majesty made a chief Trustee to commend to him fit men to supply the then vacant Bishoprics. And Dr. Sheldon knew none fitter than Dr. Sanderson, and therefore humbly desired the King that he would nominate him: and that done; he did as humbly desire Dr. Sanderson that he would For God's and the Churches sake take that charge and care upon him. Dr. Sanderson had, if not an unwillingness, certainly no forwardness to undertake it, and would often say, He had not led himself, but his Friend would now lead him into a temptation, which he had daily▪ prayed against; and besought God, if he did undertake it so, to assist him with his grace, that the example of his life, his cares and endeavors might promote his glory, and help forward the salvation of others.

This I have mentioned as a happy preparation to his Bishopric▪ and am next to tell that he was consecrated Bishop of Lincoln at Westminster the 28th of October, 1660.

There was about this time a Christian care taken, that those whose Consciences were (as they said) tender, and could not comply with the Service and Ceremonies of the Church, might have a satisfaction given by a Friendly debate betwixt a select number of them, and some like number of those that had been Sufferers for the Church Service and Ceremonies, and now restored to liberty; of which last some were then prefer'd to power and dignity in the Church. And of these Bishop Sanderson was one, and then chose to be a Moderator in that debate, and he performed his trust with much mildness, patience and reason; but all proved ineffectual: For there be some prepossessions like jealouses, (which though causeless, yet) cannot be removed by reasons as apparent as demonstration can make any truth. The place appointed for this debate was the Savoy in the Strand: and the Points debated were, I think, many; (and I think many of them needless) some affirmed to be truth and reason, some denied to be either; and these debates being at first in words, proved to be so loose and perplexed, as satisfied neither Party. For sometime that which had been affirmed was immediately forgor, or mistaken, or denied, and so no satisfaction given to either party. And that the debate might become more satisfactory and useful, it was therefore resolved that the day following the desires and reasons of the Non-conformists should be given in writing, and they in writing receive Answers from the conforming party. And though I neither now can, nor need to mention all the Points debated, nor the names of the dissenting Brethren: yet I am sure Mr. Richard Baxter was one, and I am sure also one of the Points debated, was Concerning a Command of Lawful Superiors, what was sufficient towards its being a lawful Command? —this following Proposition was brought by the conforming Party.

These were then two of the Disputants, still live, and will attest this; one being now Lord Bishop of Eli, and the other of Chester. And the last of them told me very lately, that one of the Dissenters (which I could, but forbear to name) appeared to Dr. Sanderson to be so bold, so troublesome, and so illogical in the dispute, as forced patient Dr. Sanderson (who was then Bishop of Lincoln, and a Moderator with other Bishops) to say with an unusual earnestness, That he had never met with a man of more pertinacious confidence, and less abilities in all his conversation.

But, though this debate at the Savoy was ended without any great satisfaction to either party, yet both parties knew the desires and understood the abilities of the other much better than before it: and the late distressed Clergy, that were now restored to their former rights and power, were so Charitable, as at their next meeting in Convocation to contrive to give the Dissenting Party satisfaction by alteration, explanation, and addition to some part both of the Rubric and Common-Prayer; as also by adding some new necessary Collects, with a particular Collect of Thanksgiving. How many of these new Collects were worded by Dr. Sanderson, I cannot say; but am sure the whole Convocation valued him so much, that he never undertook to speak to any Point in question, but he was heard with great willingness and attention; and when any Point in question was determined, the Convocation did usually desire him to word their intentions, and as usually approve and thank him.

At this Convocation the Common-Prayer was made more complete by adding three new necessary Offices; which were, A form of Humiliation for the murder of King Charles the Martyr, a thanksgiving for the Restoration of his Son our King; and for the baptizing of persons of riper age. I cannot say Dr. Sanderson did form or word them all, but doubtless more than any single man of the Convocation; and he did also, by desire of the Convocation, alter and add to the forms of Prayers to be used at Sea (now taken into the Service-Book. ) And it may be noted, That William, the now most Reverend Archbishop of Canterbury, was in these employments diligently useful; especially in helping to rectify the Kalendar and Rubric. And lastly, it may be noted, that for the satisfying all the dissenting Brethren and others, the Convocations Reasons for the alterations and additions to the Liturgy, were by them desired to be drawn up by Dr. Sanderson; which being done by him, and approved by them, was appointed to be Printed before the Liturgy, and may be now known by this Title,— The Preface: and begins thus— It hath been the wisdom of the Church.

I shall now follow Dr. Sanderson to his Bishopric, and declare a part of his behavior in that busy and weighty employment. And first, That it was with such condescension and obligingness to the meanest of his Clergy, as to know and be known to most of them. And indeed he practice'd the like to all men of what degree soever, especially to his old Neighbors or Parishioners of Boothby Pannel; for there was all joy at his Table when they came to visit him: then they prayed for him, and he for them with an unfeigned affection.

I think it will not be denied but that the care and toil required of a Bishop, may justly challenge the riches and revenue with which their Predecessors had lawfully endowed them; and yet he sought not that so much, as doing good with it both to the present Age and Posterity; and he made this appear by what follows.

The Bishops chief House at Buckden, in the County of Huntingdon, the usual Residence of his Predecessors (for it stands about the midst of his Diocese) having been at his Consecration a great part of it demolished, and what was left standing under a visible decay, was by him undertaken to be erected and repaired; and it was performed with great speed, care, and charge. And to this may be added, That the King having by an Injunction commended to the care of the Bishops, Deans, and Prebends of all Cathedral Churches, the repair of them, their Houses, and an augmentation of the revenue of small Vicarages; He, when he was repairing Bugden, did also augment the last, as fast as Fines were paid for renewing Leases: so fast, that a Friend taking notice of his bounty, was so bold as to advise him to remember, he was under his first fruits, and that he was old, and had a wife and children that were yet but meanly provided for, especially if his dignity were considered. To whom he made a mild and thankful answer, saying, It would not become a Christian Bishop to suffer those houses built by his Predecessors to be ruined for want of repair; and less justifiable to suffer any of those poor Vicars that were called to so high a calling as to sacrifice at God's Altar, to eat the bread of sorrow constantly, when he had a power by a small augmentation to turn it into the bread of cheerfulness: and wished, that as this was, so it were also in his Power to make all mankind happy, for he desired nothing more. And for his Wife and Children, he hoped to leave them a competence; and in the hands of▪a God, that would provide for all that kept innocence, and trusted in his providence and protection, which he had always found enough to make and keep him happy.

There was in his Diocese a Minister of almost his Age, that had been of Lincoln College when he left it, who visited him often, and always welcome, because he was a Man of Innocence and open-heartedness: This Minister asked the Bishop what Books he studied most, when he laid the foundation of his great and clear Learning? To which his Answer was, That he declined reading many Books; but what he did read, were well chosen, and read so often that he became very familiar with them; and told him they were chiefly three, Aristotle's Rhetoric, Acquinas's Secunda Secundae, and Tully, but chiefly his Offices, which he had not read over less than 20 times, and could at this Age repeat without Book. And told him also, the learned Civilian Doctor Zouch (who died lately) had writ Elementa jurisprudenti • e, which was a Book that he thought, he could also say without Book; and that no wise man could read it too often, or love, or commend it too much; and he told him the study of these had been his toil: But for himself, he always had a natural love, to Genealogies and Heraldry; and that when his thoughts were harassed with any perplexed Studies, he left off, and turned to them as a recreation; and that his very recreation had made him so perfect in them, that he could in a very short time give an account of the Descent, Arms, and Antiquity of any Family of the Nobility or Gentry of this Nation.

Before I give an account of his last sickness, I desire to tell the Reader that he was of a healthful constitution, cheerful and mild, of an even temper, very moderate in his diet, and had had little sickness, till some few years before his death; but was then every Winter punished with a Diarrhed, which left him not till warm weather returned and removed it: And this Distemper did, as he grew elder, seize him oftener, and continue longer with him. But though it weakened him, yet it made him rather indispos'd than sick, and did no way disable him from studying, (indeed too much.) In this decay of his strength, but not of his memory or reason (for this Distemper works not upon the understanding) he made his last Will, of which I shall give some account for confirmation of what hath been said, and what I think convenient to be known, before I declare his death and burial.

He did in his last Will give an account of his Faith and Perswasion in Point of Religion and Church-Government, in these very words:

And for a further manifestation of his humble thoughts and desires, they may appear to the Reader, by another part of his Will which follows.

I am next to tell, that he died the 29th of January, 1662. and that his Body was buried in Bugden the third day after his death; and for the manner, that 'twas as far from ostentation as he desired it; and all the rest of his Will was as punctually performed. And when I have (to his just praise) told this truth, That he died far from being rich, I shall return back to visit, and give a further account of him on his last Sick-bed.

His last Will (of which I have mentioned a part) was made about three weeks before his death, about which time, finding his strength to decay by reason of his constant infirmity and a consumptive cough added to it, he retired to his Chamber, expressing a desire to enjoy his last thoughts to himself in private, without disturbance or care, especially, of what might concern this world.—Thus as his natural Life decayed, his Spiritual Life seemed to be more strong; and, his faith more confirmed: still laboring to attain that holiness and purity, without which none shall see God.—And that not any of his Clergy (which are more numerous than any other Bishops of this Nation) might suffer by his retirement, he did by Commission impower his Chaplain, Mr. Pullin, with Episcopal Power to give Institutions to all Livings or Church-Preferments, during this his disability to do it himself. In this time of his retirement which was wholly spent in Devotion he longed for his Dissolution; and when some that loved him prayed for his recovery, if he at any time found any amendment, he seemed to be displeased, by saying, His Friends said their Prayers backward for him: and that 'twas not his desire to live a useless life, and by filling up a place, keep another out of it, that might do God and his Church more service. He would often with much joy and thankfulness mention, That during his being a Housekeeper (which was more than 40 years) there had not been one buried out of his Family, and that he was now like to be the first. He would also mention with thankfulness, That till he was threescore years of Age, he had never spent 5 s. in Law, nor (upon himself) so much in Wine: and rejoiced much that he had so lived, as never to cause an hours sorrow to his good Father; and that he hoped that he should die without an Enemy.

He in this retirement had the Church Prayers read in his Chamber twice every day; and at nine at night some Prayers read to him and a part of his Family out of the Whole Duty of Man. As he was remarkably punctual and regular in all his Studies and Actions, so he used himself to be for his Meals: and his Dinner being appointed to be constantly ready at the ending of Prayers, and he expecting and calling for it, was answered, It would be ready in a quarter of an hour. To which his reply was with some earnestness, A quarter of an hour, Is a quarter of an hour nothing to a man that probably has not many hours to live? And though he did live many hours after this, yet he lived not many days; for the day after (which was three days before his death) he was become so weak and weary either of motion or sitting, that he was content, or forced to keep his Bed. In which I desire he may rest, till I have given some short account of his behavior there, and immediately before it.

The day before he took his Bed (which was three days before his death) he, that he might receive a new assurance for the pardon of his sins past, and be strengthened in his way to the New Jerusalem, took the Blessed Sacrament of the Body and Blood of his, and our blessed Jesus, from the hands of his Chaplain Mr. Pullin, accompanied with his Wife, Children, and a Friend, in as awful, humble, and ardent a manner, as outward reverence could express. After the praise and thanksgiving for this blessing was ended, he spake to this purpose; I have now to the great joy of my Soul tasted of the All-saving Sacrifice of my Savior's death and passion: and with it, received a Spiritual assurance that my sins past are pardoned, and my God at peace with me: and that I shall never have a Will, or Power to do anything that may separate my Soul from the love of my dear Savior. Lord confirm this belief in me; and make me still to remember that it was thou O God that tookest me out of my Mothers Womb, and hast been the powerful Protector of me to this present moment of my life: thou hast neither forsaken me now I am become grey-headed, nor suffered me to forsake thee in the late days of temptation, and sacrifice my Conscience for the preservation of my liberty or estate. 'Twas not of myself but by grace that I have stood, when others have fallen under my trials: and these mercies I now remember with joy and thankfulness; and my hope and desire is, that I may die remembering this, and prasing thee my merciful God.

And this is mentioned in order to telling, that as the holy Psalmist said, that his eyes should prevent both the dawning of the day and the night watches, by meditating on God's word: so 'twas Dr. Sanderson 's constant practice every morning to entertain his first waking thoughts with a repition of those very Psalms, that the Church hath appointed to be constantly read in the daily Morning Service; and having at night laid him in his bed, he as constantly closed his eyes with a repetition of those appointed for the Service of the Evening; remembering and repeating the very Psalms appointed for every day; and as the month had formerly ended and began again, so did this Exercise of his devotion. And if the First-fruits of his waking thoughts were of the World, or what concerned it; he would arraign and condemn himself for it. Thus he began that work on Earth which is now the employment of Dr. Hammond and him in Heaven.

After his taking his Bed, and about a day before his death, he desired his Chaplain, Mr. Pullin, to give him absolution: And at his performing that Office, he pulled off his Cap, that Mr. Pullin might lay his hand upon his bare head. After this desire of his was satisfied, his Body seemed to be at more ease, and his mind more cheerful; and he said often, Lord, forsake me not now my strength faileth me, but continue thy mercy, and let my mouth be ever filled with thy praise. He continued the remaining night and day very patient, and thankful for any of the little Offices that were performed for his ease and refreshment: and during that time, did often say to himself the 103. Psalm, a Psalm! that is composed of Praise and Consolations, fitted for a dying Soul, and say also to himself very often these words, My heart is fixed O God, my heart is fixed where true joy is to be found. And now his thoughts seemed to be wholly of death, for which he was so prepared, that that King of Terrors could not surprise him as a thief in the night; for he had often said, he was prepared, and longed for it. And as this desire seemed to come from Heaven; so it left him not, till his Soul ascended to that Region of blessed Spirits, whose employments are to join in consort with his, and sing Praise and Glory to that God, who hath brought him and them to that place, into which sin and sorrow cannot enter.

Thus this Pattern of meekness and primitive innocence changed this for a better Life:—'tis now too late to wish that mine may be like his: (for, I am in the eighty fifth year of my Age; and, God knows it hath not,) but, I most humbly beseech Almighty God that my death may: and I do as earnestly beg, that if any Reader shall receive any satisfaction from this very plain, and as true relation, he will be so Charitable, as to say

Dr. Pierce Dean of Salisbury, his Letter to Mr. Walton.

AT my return to this place, I made a yet stricten search after the Letters long ago sent me from our most excellent Dr. Sanderson: before the happy Restoration of the King and Church of England to their several Rights; in one of which Letters more especially, he was pleased to give me a Narrative, both of the file and the Progress, and reasons also, as well of his younger, as of his last and • iper Judgment; touching the famous Points controverted between the Calvinian and the Arminians, as they are commonly (though unjustly and unskilfully) mis • alled on either side.

The whole Letter I allude to, does consist of several sheets, where of a good part has been made public • long ago by the most learned, most judicious, most pious Dr. Hammond; (to whom I sent it both for his private, and for the public satisfaction, if he thought fit), in his excellent Book, entitled [ A Pacifick Discourse of God's Grace and Decrees, in full accordance with Dr. Sanderson:] To which discourse I refer you for an account of Dr. Sanderson, and the History of his Thoughts in his own hand writing; wherein I sent it to West • ood, as I received it from Boothby Pannel. And although the whole Book (printed in the year 1660. and reprinted since with his other Tracts in Folio) is very worthy of your perusal; yet for the Work you are about, you shall not have need to read more at present, than from the 8th. to the 23d page, and as far as the end of §. 33. There you will find in what year the excellent man, whose life you write, became a Master of Arts. How his first reading of Learned Hooker had been occasioned by some Puritanical Pamphlets; and how good a preparative he found it for his reading of Calvin 's Institutions, the honor of whose name (at that time especially) gave such credit to his Errors. How he erred with Mr. Calviń (whilst he took things upon trust ) in the Sublapsarian way. How being chosen to be a Clerk of the Convocation for the Diocese of Lincoln, 1625. He reduced the Quinquarticular Controversy into five Schemes or Tables; and thereupon discerned a necessity of quitting the Sublapsarian way (of which he had before a better liking) as well as the Supralapsarian, which he could never fancy. There you will meet with his two weighty Reasons against them both; and find his happy change of Judgment to have been ever since the year 1625. even 34 years before the world either knew, or (at least) took notice of it. And more particularly his Reasons for rejecting Dr. Twisse (or the way He walks in) although his acute, and very learned and ancient Friend.

I now proceed to let you know from Dr. Sanderson's own hand, which was never printed (and which you can hardly know from any, unless from his Son, or from myself) That when that Parliament was broken up, and the Convocation therewith dissolved, a Gentleman of his Acquaintance, by occasion of some Discourse about these Points, told him of a Book not long before published at Paris (A. D. 1623.) by a Spanish Bishop, who had undertaken to clear the Differences in the great Controversy De Concordiâ Gratiae & Liberi Arbitrarij. And because his Friend perceived he was greedily desirous to see the Book; he sent him one of them containing the four first Books of twelve which he intended then to publish. When I had read (says Dr. Sanderson in the following words, of the same Letter) his Epistle Dedicatory to the Pope (Greg. 15.) he spake so highly of his own invention, that I then began rather to suspect him for a Mountebank, than to hope I should find satisfaction from his performances. I found much confidence, and great pomp of words, but little matter as to the main Knot of the Business, other than had been said an hundred times before, to wit, of the co-existence of all things past, present, and future in mente divina realiter ab aeterno, which is the subject of his whole third Book; only he interpreteth the word realiter so, as to import not only praesentialitatem objectivam (as others held before him) but propriam & actualem existentiam. Yet confesseth 'tis hard to make this intelligible. In his fourth Book he endeavors to declare a twofold manner of God's working ad extra; the one sub ordine Praedestinationis, of which Eternity is the proper measure; the other sub ordine Gratiae, whereof Time is the measure. And that God worketh fortiter in the one (though not irresistibiliter) as well as suaviter in the other, wherein the Free-will hath his proper working also. From the Result of his whole performance I was confirmed in this Opinion, That we must acknowledge the work of both (Grace and Freewill) in the conversion of a sinner. And so likewise in all other events, the Consistency of the infallibility of God's fore-knowledge at least (though not with any absolute, but conditional Predestination) with the liberty of man's will, and the contingency of inferior causes and effects. These, I say, we must acknowledge for the 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 : But for the 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , I thought it bootless for me to think of comprehending it. And so came the two Acta Synodalia Dordrectana to stand in my Study, only to fill up a room to this day.

And yet see the restless curiosity of man. Not many years after, to wit A. D. 1632. out cometh Dr. Twisse his Vindiciae Gratiae; a large Volume purposely writ against Arminius. And then notwithstanding my former resolution, I must needs be meddling again. The respect I bore to his person and great learning, and the long acquaintance I had • ad with him in Oxford, drew me to the reading of that whole Book. But from the reading of it (for I read it through to a syllable) I went away with many and great dissatisfactions. Sundry things in that Book I took notice of, which brought me into a greater dislike of his Opinion than I had before. But especially these three: First, that he bottometh very much of his Discourse upon a very erroneous Principle, which yet he seemeth to be so deeply in love with, that he hath repeated it (I verily believe) some hundreds of times in that work: •• wit this, [That whatsoever is first in the intention, is last in execution; and e converso.] Which is an Error of that magnitude, that I cannot but wonder, how a person of such acuteness and subtlety of wit could possible be deceived with it. All Logicians know, there is no such universal. Maxim as he buildeth upon. The true Maxim, is but this, Finis qui primus est in Intentione, est ultimus in Executione. In the order of final Causes, and the Means used for that end, the Rule holdeth perpetually. But in other things, it holdeth not at all, or but by chance; or not as a rule, and necessarily. Secondly, that, foreseeing such Consequences would naturally and necessarily follow from his Opinion, as would offend the ear of a sober Christian at the very first sound, he would yet rather choose not only to admit the said harsh Consequences, but professedly endeavor also to maintain them, and plead hard for them in large Digressions, than to recede in the least from that opinion which he had undertaken to defend. Thirdly, that seeing (out of the sharpness of his wit) a necessity of forsaking the ordinary Sublapsarian way, and the Supralapsarian too, as it had diversely been declared by all that had gone before him (for the shunning of those Rocks, which either of those ways must unavoidably cast him upon) he was forced to seek out an untrodden Path, and to frame out of his own brain a new way (like a Spider's web wrought out of her own bowels) hoping by that device to salve all Absurdities could be objected; to wit, by making the glory of God (as it is indeed the chiefest,) so the only end of all other his Decrees, and then making all those other Decrees to be but one entire co-ordinate Medium conducing to that one end, and so the whole subordinate to it, but not any one part thereof subordinate to any other of the same. Dr. Twisse should have done well to have been more sparing in imputing the studium Paritum to others, wherewith his own eyes (though of eminent perspicacity) were so strangely blindfolded, that he could not discern, how this his new Device, and his old dearly beloved Principle (like the Cadmean Sparti) do mutually destroy the one the other.

This Relation of my passed thoughts having spun out to a far greater length than I intended, I shall give a shorter accompt of what they now are concerning these points.

For which account I refer you to the following parts of Dr. Hammonds Book aforesaid, where you may find them already printed. And for another account at large of Bishop Sanderson 's last Judgment concerning God's Concurrence or Non-concurrence with the Actions of Men, and the positive entity of sins of commission, I refer you to his Letters already printed by his consent, in my large Appendix to my Impartial inquiry into the Nature of Sin. §. 68: p. 193. as far as p. 200.

Sir, I have rather made it my choice to transcribe all above out of the Letters of Dr. Sanderson which lie before me, than venture the loss of my Originals by Post or Carrier, which (though not often, yet) sometimes fail. Make use of as much, or as little as you please, of what I send you from himself (because from his own Letters to me) in the penning of his life, as your own Prudence shall direct you; using my name for your warranty in the account given of him, as much or as little as you please too. You have a performance of my promise, and an obedience to your desires from

THE BISHOP OF LINCOLN'S LETTER.

IAm heartily glad, that you have undertaken to write the Life of that excellent Person, and (both for Learning and Piety) eminent Prelate, Dr. Sanderson, late Bishop of Lincoln; because I know your ability to know, and Integrity to write truth: and sure I am, that the life and actions of that pious and learned Prelate will afford you matter enough for his commendation, and the imitation of Posterity. In order to the carrying on your intended good work, you desire my assistance, that I would communicate to you such particular passages of his Life, as were certainly known to me. I confess I had the happiness to be particularly known to him for about the space of 20 years, and (in Oxford ) to enjoy his conversation, and his learned and pious instructions while he was Regius Professor of Divinity there. Afterwards, when (in the time of our late unhappy confusions) he left Oxford, and was retired into the Country, I had the benefit of his Letters; wherein (with great candor and kindness) he answered those doubts I proposed, and gave me that satisfaction, which I neither had, nor expected from some others of greater confidence, but less judgment and humility. Having in (a Letter) named two or three Books writ ( ex professo ) against the being of any original sin; and that Adam (by his fall) transmitted some calamity only, but no Crime to his Posterity; the good old man was exceedingly troubled, and bewailed the misery of those licentious times, and seemed to wonder (save that the times were such) that any should write, or be permitted to publish any Error so contradictory to truth, and the Doctrine of the Church of England, established (as he truly said) by clear evidence of Scripture, and the just and supreme power of this Nation, both Sacred and Civil. I name not the Books, nor their Authors, which are not unknown to learned men (and I wish they had never been known) because both the Doctrine, and the unadvis'd Abettors of it are (an • shall be) to me Apocryph • l.

Another little story I must not pass in silence, being an Argument of Dr. Sanderson 's Piety, great Ability and Judgment as a Casuist. Discoursing with an honorable Person (whose Piety I value more than his Nobility and Learning, though▪ both be great) about a case of Conscience concerning Oaths and Vows, their Nature and Obligation; (in which for some particular Reasons) he then desired more fully to be informed; I commended to him Dr. Sanderson 's Book De Iuramento: which having read (with great satisfaction) he asked me, If I thought the Doctor could be induced to write Cases of Conscience, if he might have an honorary Pension allowed him, to furnish him with Books for that purpose? I told him I believe he would: and (in a Letter to the Doctor) told him what great satisfaction that Honorable Person (and many more) had reaped by reading his Book De Iuramento; and asked him, whether he would be pleased (for the benefit of the Church) to write some Tract of Cases of Conscience? He replied, That he was glad that any had received any benefit by his Books; and added further, That if any future Tract of his could bring such benefit to any, as we seemed to say his former had done, he would willingly (though without any Pension) set about that work. Having received this answer, that honorable Person (before mentioned) did (by my hands) return 50 l. to the good Doctor (whose condition then (as most good men's at that time were) was but low) and he presently revised, finished, and published that excellent Book De Conscientiâ. A Book little in bulk; but not so if we consider the benefit an intelligent Reader may receive by it. For there are so many general Propositions concerning Conscience, the Nature and Obligation of it explained and proved with such firm consequence and evidence of Reason, that he who reads, remembers, and can (with prudence) pertinently apply them Hic & nunc to particular Cases, may (by their light and help) rationally resolve a thousand particular doubts and scruples of Conscience. Here you may see the Charity of that honorable Person in promoting, and the Piety and Industry of the good Doctor in performing that excellent work,

And here I shall add the Judgment of that learned and pious Prelate concerning a passage very pertinent to our present purpose. When he was in Oxford, and read his public Lectures in the Schools as Regius Professor of Divinity, and by the truth of his Positions, and evidences of his Proofs, gave great content and satisfaction to all his hearers, especially in his clear Resolutions of all difficult Cases which occur'd in the Explication of the subject matter of his Lectures; a Person of Quality (yet alive) privately asked him, What course a young Divine should take in his Studies to enable him to be a good Casuist? His answer was, That a convenient understanding of the Learned Languages (at least of Hebrew, Greek & Latin) and a sufficient knowledge of Arts and Sciences presuppos'd; There were two things in human Literature, a comprehension of which would be of very great use, to enable a man to be a rational and able Casuist, which otherwise was very difficult, if not impossible, 1. A convenient knowledge of Moral Philosophy; especially that part of it which treats of the Nature of Human Actions: To know, quid sit actus humanus (spontaneus, invitus, mixtus) unde habent bonitatem & malitiam moralem? an ex genere & objecto, vel ex circumstantiis? How the variety of circumstances varies the goodness or evil of human Actions? How far knowledge and ignorance may aggravate or excuse, increase or diminish the goodness or evil of our Actions? For every Case of Conscience being only this— Is this Action good or bad? May I do it, or may I not? He who (in these) knows not how and whence human Actions become morally good and evil, never can (in Hypothesi ) rationally and certainly determine, whether this or that particular Action be so. 2. The second thing, which (he said) would be a great help and advantage to a Casuist, was a convenient knowledge of the Nature and Obligation of Laws in general: To know what a Law is; what a natural and a Positive Law; what's required to the Latio, dispensatio, derogatio, vel abrogatio legis; what promulgation is antecedently required to the Obligation of any Positive Law; what ignorance takes off the Obligation of a Law, or does excuse, diminish or aggravate the transgression: For every Case of Conscience being only this— Is this lawful for me, or is it not? and the Law the only Rule and Measure, by which I must judge of the lawfulness or unlawfulness of any Action: It evidently follows, that he, who (in these) knows not the Nature and Obligation of Laws, never can be a good Casuist, or rationally assure himself (or others) of the lawfulness or unlawfulness of Actions in particular. This was the Judgment and good counsel of that learned and pious Prelate; and having (by long experience) found the truth and benefit of it, I conceive, I could not without ingratitude to him, and want of charity to others, conceal it.—Pray pardon this rude, and (I fear) impertinent Scrible, which (if nothing else) may signify thus much, that I am willing to obey your Desires, and am indeed

THE PREFACE TO THE READER.

H OW these Sermons will be looked upon (if at all looked upon) by the men of the Times, is no very • ard matter to conjecture. I confess they are not A-la▪ mode, nor fitted to the Palate of those men, who are resolved beforehand (without tasting or trial) to nauseate, as unsavory and unwholesome, whatsoever shall be tendered unto them from the hand of an Episcopal Divine. And therefore the republishing of them in this state of Church-affairs, now the things so much contended for in some of them, are worn out of date, and thrown aside, will be deemed at least a very unseasonable Undertaking to as much purpose (perhaps it will be said) as if a man would this year re-print an Almanac for the Last. For the latter part of the Objection: at the peril be it of those, that had the hardiness to adventure upon a new Edition. Mihi istic nec seritur, nec metitur. All I had to do in the business, was but the drudgery of reviewing the old Copy to correct the Errata of the former Impressions; and of looking over the sheets as they were wrought off from the Press, and sent me down, to note the oversights escaped in the Printing, and to make the Index of the Scripture-quotations. As to the other part of the Crime, such as it is, to wit, the unseasonableness of this afterpublication; there need not much be said. If the Sermons thought not unseasonable in some former times, he now become 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , as things brought forth into the World again out of due time: that cannot I help. They are the same they were, when they were first Preached; and the same they were, when they were last Printed: and so am I. If either they or I, find worse entertainment now, than we did then; and any blame be due for that; let not us bear it, who are guiltless, but the Times. For it is They are changed not We. Howsoever, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 : now they are abroad, they must take their lot as it falleth out. Which be it better, be it worse; this yet we shall gain thereby: that if any shall charge these Papers with unseasonableness (no very huge crime) he shall ipso facto, by that very act, and the Verdict of his own conscience, fully discharge, and forever acquit them of the guilt of Time-serving; a crime, I trow, of a vaster magnitude, and wherewith Discourses of this nature were wont to be so frequently, (that I say not, unjustly ) aspersed, whilst the Times looked more favourably upon them.

§. II. But of this enough. I expect to meet with far heavier Censures than these, from the ungoverned spirits and tongues of the more zealous (that is to say, if • ightly interpreted, the more clamorous and less knowing ) among them. Who knoweth not, that as empty vessels give the loudest sound, and shallow brooks run with a fiercer current, and make a greater noise, than deeper Rivers do▪ so they that are the least able to judge, are ever the most forward to pass sentence; and when they so do, the most rigid and peremptory therein? But the heaviest doom, I suppose, will proceed from those men, who being themselves of late years fallen out grievously, fallen out (for what cause I know not) with the Ancient Government, Liturgy, and Ceremonies of the Church, are angry with all those, that retain any good opinion of them. Whereunto yet themselves, when time was, seemed to be, and if they dissembled not (which we are unwilling to believe) were indeed, reasonably well affected. For they submitted to the Government, used the Liturgy, and observed the Ceremonies appointed; according to Law and Order; and their own professed approbation of the same, as well by express words from their mouths, as by subscription under their hands, yet remaining upon record. What hath wrought this change in them (Evidence of Reason, or worldly Interest, ) and how far it hath wrought upon them (in reality, or but in compliance; and in what order too, by immediate assault upon their judgment, or by dealing under-hand first with the affections: ) themselves do, or should best know. It highly concerneth them, even as much as the peace of their consciences is worth (and much more than so) to be well assured that their hearts are upright in this affair. And in order thereunto, not to content themselves with a slight and overly examination; (There is more wickedness and deceitfulness in the hearts of all men, than most men are aware of:) but to make the most diligent, district, and unpartial search possible, into the true causes and motives of this change. And (for so much as Fears and Hopes have been ever found the fittest and the readiest Engines to work such feats; ) to inquire particularly what influence or operation, either the Fear of losing what they had, or the Hope of getting more, might have in this work, towards the producing of such an effect. It will best become others, to judge as charitably, as they may; but doubtless it would be safest for them, to be very jealous over themselves, lest so great a change could not have been wrought in so short a space without a strong infusion, either of the one, or the other, or both, into the medicine that wrought it. Especially, since the conjecture of the time wherein this change happened, may very probably raise some suspicion, that the fear of the Sword might have; and the visible advantage some have found thereby since, as probably, that the hope of gain had, some co-operation at least, with whatsoever was the principal Cause of this so sudden a Metamorphosis. If nor so, nor so; but that they find themselves clearly convinced in their judgments of their former Error, and that they are fully persuaded they are now in a better way than that wherein they formerly walked▪ it is happy for them, and I doubt not but they will find matter of rejoicing in it, if they be not mistaken (a thing not impossible) in the trial of their own hearts. Of the sincerity whereof, the likeliest way to give satisfaction to the World, and to add some strengthening withal to their own assurance, is, by showing compassion to those their Brethren, that cannot yet tell how to recover themselves out of the snare of the same common Error, from which they are so happily escaped. At leastwise so far, as not to despise them; nor to pass their censures upon them, with so much freedom and severity as some have done. If it be a fault, sure it is a very pardonable one; for a man in the change of times, to remain unchanged in his mind and opinion, and to hold to his former and (as he thinketh) well-grounded Principles: so long as he can neither apprehend any Reason of sufficient strength to convince his understanding that he is in the wrong, or to manifest unto him the necessity of making such a change; nor is able with the best wit he hath, to discern anything so lovely in the effects and consequents of such change since it was made, as might win over his affections to any tolerable liking thereof upon the Post-fact.

§. III. To return where I was going, and from whence I have not much digressed; if any should now ask me, what those heavy Censures are which I said we should be like to meet withal, I confess I am not able to give him any certain account thereof; not knowing beforehand what reasons or expressions the Spirits of particular men will suggest to their tongues or pens. Only by what hath been usually said by one sort of men upon such like occasions heretofore (more sparingly and in the ear in former times, but of late more frequently, freely, and on the house tops: ) it may be probably guessed what kind of Censures are to be expected from those of the same party now. Yet for that I am not conscious to myself to have said anything in the Papers now, or at any time heretofore (with my allowance) published, that may give just offense to, or merit the hard censure of, any sober dispassionate man; and that, if yet I must fall under some mis-censures, it is not my case alone, but of many others also wrapped with me in the same common guilt; I shall therefore reduce my discourse herein ab hypothesi ad thesin; and propose the Objections, with my Answers thereunto (though with some reflection upon myself in most of the particulars, yet) as laid against the generality of those men's Sermons, Writings, and other Discourses, who (according to the new style of late years taken among us) go under the name of the Prelatical Party or Episcopal Divines.

§. IV. The Objections are, 1. That in their ordinary Sermons they take any small occasion; but when they Preach at the Visitations, where most of the Clergy of the Voisinage are convened, set themselves purposely in their whole Discourse to let fly at their Godly Brethren, who out of tenderness of Conscience dare not submit to some things endeavored to be imposed upon them by the Prelates. The Poor Puritan is sure to be paid home; he must be brought under the lash, and exposed to contempt and scorn at every public meeting; the Papists, professed Enemies of our Church and Religion, escaping in the mean while Scot-free, seldom or never meddled withal in any of their Sermons. 2. Or if sometimes some little matter be done that way by some of them; it is so little▪ that it is to as little purpose: rather for fashions sake, ad faciendum Populum, and to avoid suspicion, than for any ill will they bear them. Perhaps give them a light touch by the way; a gentle rub as they pass along, that shall do them no harm; but their Brethren, that profess the same Protestant Religion with them, they handle with a rougher hand. With Elder-guns, and Paper-pellits they shoot at those; but against these, they play with Cannon-bullet. 3. And all this anger but for Ceremonies: Trifles even in their own esteem, who plead hardest for them. If they be indeed such Indifferent things, as they confess them to be, and would have the World believe they make no other account of them; Why do they dote on them so extremely themselves? Why do they press them upon others with so much importunity? Why do they quarrel with their brethren eternally about them? 4. The truth is, both We and They judge otherwise of them, than as Indifferent things. They think them necessary, whatever they pretend; or else they would not lay so much weight upon them. And we hold them Popish, Antichristian, and superstitious; or else we would not so stiffly refuse them. 5. It is not therefore without cause, that we suspect the Authors of such Sermons and Treatises, as have come abroad in the defense of such trash, to be Popishly-affected; or at least to have been set on by some Popish Bishops or Chancellors ( though perhaps without any such intention in themselves: on purpose to promote the Papal Interest here, and to bring back the people of this Nation by degrees, if not into the heart and within the Walls of Babylon, yet at leastwise into the confines, and within the view of it. 6. Which, as it appeareth otherwise, to wit, by their great willingness to allow such qualifications to sundry Doctrines taught in the Church of Rome, and such interpretations to sundry taught in our Church, as may bring them to the nearest agreement; and their great endeavors to find out such Expedients, as might best bring on a perfect reconciliation between the two Churches. 7. So particularly, in pressing with so much vehemency the observance of these Popish and Superstitious Ceremonies; for which we cannot find, nor do they offer to produce, any either Command or Example in holy Scripture, to warrant to our Consciences the use thereof. 8. Which, what is it else in effect, than to deny the sufficiency of the Scripture, to be a perfect Rule of Faith and Manners? Which being one of the main Bulwarks of the Protestant Religion, as it is differenced from the Roman, is by these men and by this means undermined and betrayed.

'§. V. This is the sum and substance of the usual Censures and Objections of our Anti-Ceremonian Brethren, so far as I have observed from their own speeches and writings; which I have therefore set down as near, as in so few words I could, to their sense, and, for the most part, in their own expressions. Much of which having (as I conceive) received its answer beforehand in some passage or other of the ensuing Sermons, might supercede me the labor of adding anymore now. Yet for so much as these answers lie dispersedly, and not in one view: I held it convenient, as I have produced the Objections all together; so to offer to the Reader an Answer to them all together, and that in the same order, as I have given them in Begging at his hands but this one (very reasonable) favor, that he would do both himself and me so much right, as not to pass his censure too ha • tily and too severely upon any part of what is now presented to his view, (whether he like it, or dislike it;) till he hath had the patience to read over the whole, and allowed himself the freedom rightly and without prejudice to consider of it.

§. VI. That which is said in the first place of their Godliness and Tenderness of Conscience, is not much to the purpose, as to the main business. For first, besides that all Parties pretend to Godliness '; Papists, Anabaptists, and who not (even the late-sprung-up generation of Levellers, whose Principles are so destructive of all that Order and Justice by which public societies are supported, do yet style themselves, as by a kind of peculiarity, The Godly; ) And that secondly, it is the easiest thing in the world, and nothing more common, than for men to pretend Conscience, when they are not minded to obey: I do not believe thirdly, (though I am well persuaded of the godliness of many of them otherwise,) that the refusal of indifferent Ceremonies enjoined by Lawful Authority, is any part of their Godliness; or any good fruit, evidence, or sign thereof. But certain it is fourthly, that the godliest men are men, and know but in part; and by the power of godliness in their hearts are no more secured from the possibility of falling into Error through Ignorance, than from the possibility of falling into Sin through Infirmity. And as for Tenderness of Conscience fifthly, a most gracious blessed fruit of the holy Spirit of God, where it is really, and not in pretence only, nor mistaken, (for sure it is no very tender Conscience, though sometimes called so, that straineth at a Gnat and swalloweth a Camel: ) it is with it, as with other tender things; very subject to receive harm and soon put out of order. Through the cunning of Satan, it dangerously exposeth men to temptations on the right hand: and through its own aptitude to entertain and to cherish unnecessary scruples, it strongly disposeth them to listen thereunto so long, till at the last they are overcome thereof. Needful it is therefore, that in the public teaching, the Errors should be sometimes refuted, and the Temptations discovered. And this ever to be done; seasonably, soberly, discreetly and convincingly; and, when we are to deal with men whose Consciences (are so far as we can discern) truly tender, with the spirit of Meekness and Compassion. For, tender things must be tenderly dealt withal, or they are lost. I know it is not always so done; nor can we expect it should. All Preachers are neither so charitable, nor so prudent, nor so conscientious, as they should be: And they that are such in a good measure, are men still; and may be transported now and then through Passion, and Infirmity, beyond the just bounds of moderation. But then, the fault is not so much in the choice of the argument they treat of, as in the ill-managing thereof: which ought not to cast any prejudice upon others who deal in the same Argument, but after another manner.

§. VII. But that which pincheth most in this first particular, is (as I suppose) this; That upon all public occasions▪ especially in Visitation-Sermons, they who agree with us in the substance of the same Reformed Religion, are for the most part the only mark shot at; whilst the common Enemy, the Papist, hath little or nothing said against him. For Answer hereunto. First, so far as concerneth the Sermons here published, the Objection is void, for therein, the Papist hath had his share as well as his fellows, so ost as the Text gave occasion, or the file of my discourse led me thereunto; as by the Papers themselves (whereunto reference to be had) will evidently appear. Secondly, admitting all true that is alleged; either we are excusable, in what they blame us for; or they that bl • me us inexcusable, who do the very same things. Do not they usually in their Sermons, fall bitterly upon the Papists and Arminians; but seldom meddle with the Socinians? scarce ever name the Turks? I have been often told, of their declamations against the observing of Christmas, that great superstitious thing; but I remember not to have heard of much spoken against Perjury and Sacrilege and some other sins, wherewith our times abound. Nay doth not their zeal even against Popery itself ( Popery I mean, truly so called) of late years, and since most of the Pulpits are in their possession, seem to abate; at leastwise in comparison of the zeal they show against Episcopacy, and against the Liturgy, Festivals, and Ceremonies lately in use among us? These they cry down with all the noise they can, and with all the strength they have; having first branded them with the name of Popery; and this must now pass for preaching against Popery. I demand then, Is there not the like reason of reproving Sins, and refuting Errors? If so; are not Perjury and Sacrilege as great sins (at least) as keeping Christmas Holy-day? Howsoever, are not the Errors of the Turks, that deny the whole structure of the Christian Religion; (foundation and all,) far worse than the Errors of the Papists, who by their additional super structures have only altered the Fabric, but keep the Foundation still? And are not the Errors of the Socinians, who deny the Trinity, God's Omniscience, the Eternity of the Son, the Divinity of the Holy Ghost, Original Sin, the calling of Ministers, and far worse than those the Arminians are charged withal, of Free Will, Universal Redemption, Falling from Grace, &c? And are not the old rotten Points of Popery ( the Popes Oecumenical Pastorship and Infallibility, the Scriptures Unsufficiency, Image-worship, Invocation of Saints, Transubstantiation, Half-Communion, &c.) Errors of as great a magnitude, as those other Points of Popery (lately and falsely dubb'd such) of Episcopacy, Liturgy, Festivals, and Ceremonies? If they be; Why do our Brethren preach oftener and inveigh more, against these latter and lesser in comparison, than against those former and greater Sins and Errors? I doubt not, but they have some Reasons wherewith to satisfy themselves for their so doing; else they were much too blame. Be those Reasons what they will; if they will serve to excuse them, they will serve as well to justify us.

§. VIII. It will be said perhaps; First, That the Turks have no Communion with us: They are out of the Church; and our chiefest care should be for those within, leaving those without for God to judge. Or indeed Secondly, To what purpose would it be to address our speeches to them some thousands of miles out of hearing? If our voices were as loud as Stentor 's, or that of Mars in Homer, the sound would not reach them. Besides that, Thirdly, There is little danger in our people of receiving hurt or infection from them; who have no such Agents here to tamper with the people in that behalf, no such artifices and plausible pretensions whereby to work them over to their side, no such advantages as the agreement in some Common Principles might afford for bringing on the rest; as the Papists have. Who being within the pale of the visible Catholic Church, and living in the midst of us, have their instruments ready at hand in every corner, to gain Proselytes for Rome; the specious pretences of Antiquity, Universality, Consent of Councils and Fathers, &c. wherewith to dazzle the eyes of weak and credulous persons; and some ground also to work upon, in the agreement that is between them and us in the principal Articles of the Christian Faith.

§. IX. These Reasons I confess are satisfactory, as to the Comparison between Turks and Papists; and may be applied to the other Instance also in their proportion, so far as the Application will hold truth. And all this is agreeable, both, To the Apostles discourse, 1 Cor. 5. 9.—13. and, To the advices of prudent Statists, who forbear to advance against a potent Enemy abroad, till they have composed smaller Quarrels and Mutinies at home, and, To the Example also of our blessed Savior himself: Who, although the Errors of the Sadducees were, in themselves, and in respect of their matter, much worse than those of the Scribes and Pharisees; yet because the danger of seducing the People, was greater from these than from those (the Pharisees by reason of their outside holiness being grown into better Esteem with the People than the Sadducees were; and the generality of the people also by their Education prettily well principled, and so fore-armed, against those more gross and palpable Errors of the Sadducees: ) is observed therefore to have both more frequently and with greater sharpness reproved the Scribes and Pharisees for their false teaching, than he did the Sadducees; and to have given the people more Cavears to beware of them and their Leaven, than that of the Sadducees.

§. X. This is the most, I think, they have to say for themselves; and upon supposal that all the particulars in the aforementioned Instances, were indeed such Sins and Errors, as they either take or mistake them for; it must be admitted a very reasonable and sufficient PIea. Only we require (which is but equal ) that they mete unto us back again with the same measure; and allow us the benefit of the same Plea (mutatis mutandis) so far as our Case is the same with theirs. Let them but this do, and the Objection will vanish. First, we nothing doubt but that the Papists (by being baptized into the Faith of Christ ) are in a far better condition otherwise; as we are sure they stand in a nearer relation to us thereby, than Turks and Pagans do. Yet, as to external Communion in the public Worship; by refusing to assemble with us (which is not our fault) they are as very strangers to us, as the very Turks are; and in that respect to be looked upon as 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , those that are without. And therefore we deemed it more expedient, and a more brotherly act, to endeavor the reducing of our Brethren that held Communion with us to their just obedience, by discovering to their faces (being personally present ) those their Errors that obstructed it; than to beat the Air to little purpose, in declaiming against those that did not hear us, and we were sure would little regard us. For, Secondly, were it not for the confirming of our Protestant Hearers in their present belief of the Truth, against such as will attempt to draw them from us, it would be a very impertinent thing to insist much upon the discovery of Popish Errors in our Churches; whither they that should reap most benefit by such discovery never come. They live among us indeed, which the Turks do not: but since they come not where they may hear us; it is all one to us, in respect of our Sermons, as if they lived as far from us as the Turks do. But at such times as the Clergy are met together (which is chiefly done at the Visitations ) when most of them who are most concerned, both for their own sakes, and the people's that depend upon them, to have a right judgment concerning the Nature and Use of Indifferent things, are present; it seemeth to be very proper, (and by the blessing of God) may conduce very much to the edification of his people in Truth, Peace, and Godliness; that the just power of those that have authority in the Church for making Ecclesiastical Constitutions should be asserted, and the necessity of yielding obedience thereunto when they are made, by all under such authority should be pressed. This is the very truth of the whole business. And what is there in all this, to deserve such out-cries? What is there, if men would but soberly consider it, that is not every way agreeable to the dictates both of Christian Prudence and Charity? Thirdly, (which is a very important consideration, and cometh up to the full of the Objection ) we think it more needful, seasonable, and expedient, upon such opportunities, to clear these points in difference betwixt us and our Brethren at home, than to handle any of the Controversies in debate betwixt us and those of Rome. Both because the People are in more danger of being misled by these, than of being seduced by Papists; and because the Papists make a great advantage (indeed the greatest, and in a manner the whole advantage they have against us) of these home-differences, For although the Emissaries of Rome have long used all the art and diligence possible to advance the Roman Interest among us; yet the People of England are so generally prepossessed with a detestation of that Religion (as the people of Spain, France and Italy are of ours; ) that, were it not for the advantage they make of the excesses of some troublesome spirits among ourselves, they could not have expected to have reaped so plentiful a harvest here, as of late years they have done. But our Brethren, having by their much Preaching and inveighing against the Papists, wrought our common people to such a prejudice against her Doctrines, that many of them know no other Rule whereby to judge of the soundness of men's Religion, than by the greater or lesser distance it hath from Popery; have thereby withal gained that high esteem of their soundness in Religion above others in the hearts of many of our people (led as most are, by opinion more than true judgment; ) that it is a very easy matter for them to draw multitudes after them into a dislike of anything, whereon they shall think good to fasten the imputation of being Popish. For preventing whereof, if we do our best endeavor upon all good occasions to undeceive them first, and by them the people; by letting them see, (if they will but open their eyes) how unsound the Principles are they go upon, and how unsafe the Practices those Principles lead unto: Who can justly blame us for so doing?

§. XI. To the substance of the Second Objection (if I may with their leave and without their offense, pass by that quaint minute piece of wit, of Paper-pellits, and Cannon-bullets; ) I shall need make no further Answer, than what hath already been given to the First. Only I shall, ex abundanti, add two things; the one, concerning myself; the other, to the Objectors. For myself; if I be not much mistaken, I have been so far from offending in the kind objected, that I may seem rather to have offended too much on the other hand. The substance of the matter both against Papists and others, is I hope all along justifiable. And then, if some sharper expressions both against them and others have here and there slipped from my tongue or pen (such as heat and indignation in our greener years are apt to suggest;) they that are ingenuous, considering how long it is since those Sermons were Preached, may be pleased to pardon it, upon the old plea, Dandum aliquod aetati. As for them; that they Preach against Popery, I not at all mislike: Only I could wish that these two Cautions were better observed, than (as far as I can make conjecture of the rest, by the proportion of 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 what hath come to my knowledge ) I fear they usually are, by the more zealous of that party, Viz. 1. That they do not through ignorance, prejudice, or precipitancy, call that Popery, which is not; and then under that name and notion Preach against it. 2. That they would do it with the less noise and more weight. It is not a business merely of the Lungs but requireth Sinews too. Or (to use their own Metaphor ) let them not think that casting of squibs will do the deed, or charging with powder alone; that will give a crack indeed, and raise a smoke? but unless they have bullet as well as powder, it will do little execution.

§. XII. To the Third Objection. I say First, that we have indeed no higher or other esteem of Ceremonies, than as of indifferent things; yet do we not count them Trifles, otherwise than as in comparison with necessary duties. But let Ceremonies (Secondly ) be as very Trifles, as any man can imagine them to be; yet Obedience sure is no Trifle. They mis-state the Question, when they talk of pressing Ceremonies. It is Obedience (formally) that is required: Ceremonies not otherwise pressed, than as the matter wherein that Obedience is to be exercised. If a Master appoint his Servant to do some small matter that he thinketh fit to have done, though in itself of no great moment; yet he will expect to be obeyed; and it is great reason he should. If in such case the Servant should refuse to do the thing appointed, because he hath no mind thereunto, and should receive a check or correction for such refusal; could he either sufficiently excuse his own fault, or reasonably complain of his Master for dealing hardly with him, by saying, The thing was but a Trifle? Is it not evident, that the thing which made the Master angry, and the Servant an offender in that Case, was not ( precisely and formally ) the leaving of the thing undone (which had it not been commanded, might have been left undone without any fault or blame at all,) but the refusing to do it, when he that had a right to his service commanded him? Wherefore Thirdly, that which is said of some men's doting so extremely on Ceremonies, might have been well enough spared. I know no true Son of the Church of England, that doteth upon any Ceremony, whatsoever opinion he may have of the decency or expediency of some of them. If any do, let him answer for himself. Among wise men, he will hardly pass for a wise man, that doteth upon any. Nor will he, I doubt, prove a much wiser man, that runs into the contrary Extream, and abhorreth all. It is true, Fourthly, that there have been long and unkind quarrels about these things: More is the pity! but where is the fault? To whom is the beginning, and to whom the continuance of a quarrel rather imputable? To him, that demandeth his right? or to him, that with-holdeth it from him? For this is the plain Case in short, The Bishops (under the King ) require obedience to the Laws Ecclesiastical; these men refuse to give it. So began the quarrel at first; and upon the same terms it continued. If the Obedience challenged were indeed due to those Laws, then did our Brethren both begin the quarrel and hold it on; if it were not, then must the whole blame lie upon those that claimed it unjustly, and not upon them. So that upon winding up of the business, the whole Controversy will devolve upon this point; Whether to the Laws Ecclesiastical Obedience is due or not? For the right determining whereof (for so much as it is confessed on all hands, that Obedience is due to Lawful Authority commanding Lawful things) two other points are to be resolved: the one, concerning the Authority by which the Constituons were made; the other, concerning the lawfulness of the things therein required. The Presbyterians of the Kirk flatly and directly deny both: Ours, less forward to declare their opinion in the former point, have chosen rather to stand upon the later only. And so the point in issue is briefly this; Whether the things commanded, (and particularly the Ceremonies ) be lawful, yea, or no. Which bringeth us to the consideration of.

§. XIII. The Fourth Objection. Wherein (besides some ill language, which I love not to stir into) they declare, First, what they conceive to be our Opinion, and next what is indeed their own concerning the