_Of the great danger and folly of not |intending| to be as
eminent as we can, in the practice of all Christian virtues._
1. ALTHOUGH the goodness of God, and his rich mercy in Christ Jesus,
are a sufficient assurance to us, that he will be merciful to our
unavoidable weaknesses, that is, to such failings as are the effects
of _ignorance_ or _surprize_; yet we have no reason to expect the
same mercy towards those sins which we live in, through a want of
_intention_ to avoid them.
For instance, a _common swearer_, who dies in that guilt, seems to
have no title to the divine mercy; because he can no more plead any
weakness in his excuse, than the man that hid his _talent_ in the
earth, could plead his want of strength to keep it out of the earth.
2. But, if this be right reasoning in the case of a _common swearer_,
that his sin is not to be reckoned a _pardonable frailty_, because he
has no weakness to plead in its excuse: why don’t we as much condemn
every other error of life, that has no more weakness to plead in its
excuse than common swearing?
For if this be so bad, because it might be avoided, if we did but
sincerely intend it, must not all other erroneous ways of life be very
guilty, if we live in them, not through weakness and inability, but
because we never sincerely intended to avoid them?
For instance, you perhaps have made no progress in the most important
Christian virtues, in _humility_ and _charity_. Now, if your failure
is owing to your want of _intention_ of performing them in any true
degree, have you not as little to plead for yourself? And are you not
as much without all excuse as the _common swearer_?
3. Why therefore don’t you press these things home upon your
conscience? Why do you not think it as dangerous for you to live in
such defects as are in your power to amend, as ’tis dangerous for a
common swearer to live in the breach of that duty, which it is in his
power to observe? Is not the want of a sincere intention, as blameable
in one case as another?
You, it may be, are as far from _Christian perfection_ as the common
swearer is from keeping the _third commandment_. Are you not therefore
as much condemned by the doctrine of the gospel, as the swearer is by
the third commandment?
You perhaps will say, that all people fall short of the perfection
of the gospel. But this is nothing to the purpose: for the question
is not, whether gospel perfection can be fully attained; but whether
you come as near it as a sincere intention, and careful diligence can
carry you? Whether you are not in a much lower state than you might be,
if you sincerely intended to advance yourself in all Christian virtues?
If your defects in _piety_, _humility_, and _charity_ are owing to
your want of _sincere intention_ to be as eminent as you can in these
virtues, then you leave yourself as much without excuse, as he that
lives in the sin of swearing, through the want of a sincere intention
to depart from it.
4. The salvation of our souls is set forth in scripture as a thing of
difficulty, that requires _all our diligence_, that is to be _worked
out with fear and trembling_.
We are told, _straight is the gate, and narrow is the way that leadeth
unto life, and few there be that find it_: that _many are called, but
few are chosen_: and that many will miss of their salvation who seem
to have taken _some pains_ to obtain it. _Strive to enter in at the
straight gate; for many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, and
shall not be able._
*Here our blessed Lord commands us to _strive_ to enter in, because
many will fail, who only _seek_ to enter: by which we are plainly
taught, that religion is a state of _labour_ and _striving_, and that
many will fail of their salvation; not because they took no pains or
care about it, but because they did not take care and pains enough;
they only _sought_, but did not _strive_ to enter in.
Every Christian therefore should as well examine his life by these
_doctrines_, as by the commandments: for these doctrines are as plain
marks of our condition as the commandments are.
For if salvation is only given to those who _strive_ for it, then it
is as reasonable for me to consider, whether my course of life be a
course of striving to obtain it, as to consider whether I am keeping
any of the commandments.
5. If my religion is only a formal compliance with those modes of
worship that are in fashion where I live, if it costs me no pains or
trouble, if it lays me under no rules and restraints, if I have no
careful thoughts about it, is it not great weakness to think that I
am _striving to enter in at the straight gate_?
If I am seeking every thing that can delight my senses, spending my
time and fortune in pleasures, in diversions, and worldly enjoyments;
a stranger to watchings, fastings, prayers, and mortifications, how
can it be said, that I am _working out my salvation with fear and
trembling_?
If I use the world and worldly enjoyments, as the generality of people
do, and in all ages have done, why should I think that I am amongst
_those few_, who are walking in the _narrow way_ to heaven?
*And yet, if the way is _narrow_, if none can walk in it but those
that _strive_, is it not as necessary for me to consider, whether
the _way_ I am in be narrow _enough_, or the _labour_ I take to be a
_sufficient_ striving, as to consider whether I sufficiently observe
the second or third commandment?
6. The measure of our love to God seems in justice to be the measure
of our love of every virtue. We are to love and practise it _with
all our heart, with all our soul, with all our mind, and with all
our strength_. And when we cease to live with this regard to virtue,
we live below our nature, and instead of being able to plead our
_infirmities_, we stand chargeable with wilful _negligence_.
It is for this reason that we are exhorted to work out our salvation
with _fear_ and _trembling_; because unless our _heart_ and _passions_
are eagerly bent upon the work of our salvation, unless _holy fears_
animate our endeavours, and keep our consciences tender about every
part of our duty, constantly examining how we live, and how fit we are
to die, we shall in all probability sit down in such a course of life,
as will never carry us to the rewards of heaven.
And he that considers, that a just God can only make such allowances
as are suitable to his justice, that our works are all to be examined
by fire, will find _fear_ and _trembling_ are proper tempers for those
that are drawing near to so great a trial.
Now this is not intended to possess people’s minds with a scrupulous
anxiety; but to fill them with a just fear of living in the neglect of
such virtues as they will want at the day of judgment.
It is only desiring them to be so apprehensive of their state, so
earnest after higher degrees of piety, and so fearful of falling short
of happiness, as the great apostle St. _Paul_ was, when he thus wrote
to the _Philippians_.
_Not as though I had already attained, either were already
perfect;――but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are
behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press
toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of |God| in Christ
Jesus._ And then he adds, _Let us therefore, as many as are perfect,
be thus minded_.
But if the apostle thought it necessary for those who were in his
state of perfection to be _thus minded_; thus labouring, pressing, and
aspiring after some degrees of holiness, to which they were not then
arrived; surely it is much more necessary for us, _to be thus minded_;
thus earnest and striving after such degrees of a holy life, as we
have not yet attained.
7. The best way for any one to know how much he ought to aspire after
holiness, is to ask himself, how much he thinks will make him easy at
the hour of death.
Now any man that dares put this question to himself, will be forced to
answer, that at death, every one will wish, he had been as perfect as
human nature can be.
Is not this sufficient to put us, not only upon wishing, but labouring
after all that perfection which we shall then lament the want of? Is
it not excessive folly to be content with such a course of piety as
we already know cannot content us, at a time when we shall so want
it, as to have nothing else to comfort us? How can we carry a severer
condemnation against ourselves, than to believe, that at the hour of
death, we shall want the virtues of the _saints_, and wish that we
had been among the first servants of God, and yet take no methods of
arriving at their height of piety, whilst we are alive?
8. Though this is an _absurdity_ that we can pass over, whilst the
health of our bodies, the passions of our minds, the noise, and
hurry, and pleasures, and business of the world, lead us on with eyes
that see not; yet at death, it will appear before us in a dreadful
magnitude: it will haunt us like a dismal ghost; and our conscience
will never let us take our eyes from it.
We see in worldly matters, what a torment self-condemnation is; and
how hardly a man is able to forgive himself, when he has brought
himself into any calamity or disgrace, purely by his own folly. The
affliction is made doubly tormenting; if he is forced to charge it all
upon himself, as his own act and deed, against the reason of things,
and contrary to the advice of his friends.
Now by this we may in some degree guess, how terrible that
self-condemnation will be, when a man shall find himself in the misery
of death, under the severity of a self-condemning conscience; charging
all his distress upon his own folly and madness, against the sense
and reason of his own mind, against all the doctrines and precepts of
religion, and contrary to all the instructions, calls, and warnings
both of God and man.
9. *_Penitens_ was a busy, notable tradesman, and very prosperous in
his dealings, but died in the _thirty-fifth_ year of his age.
A little before his death, when the doctors had given him over, some
of his neighbours came to see him; at which time he spoke thus to them.
I see, my friends, the tender concern you have for me, by the grief
that appears in your countenances; and I know the thoughts that you
have about me. You think how melancholy a case it is, to see so young
a man, and in such flourishing business, delivered up to death. And
perhaps, had I visited any of you in my condition, I should have had
the same thoughts of you.
But now, my friends, my thoughts are no more like your thoughts, than
my condition is like yours.
It is no trouble to me now to think, that I am to die young, or before
I have raised an estate.
These things are now sunk into such mere _nothings_, that I have no
name little enough to call them by. For if in a few days, or hours, I
am to leave this carcase to be buried in the earth, and to find myself
either for ever happy in the favour of God, or eternally separated
from all light and peace. Can any words sufficiently express the
littleness of every thing else?
Is there any dream like the dream of life, which amuses us with the
disregard of these things? Is there any folly like the folly of our
manly state, which is too _wise_ and _busy_ to be at leisure for these
reflections?
10. When we consider death as a misery, we only think of it as a
miserable separation from the enjoyments of this life. We seldom
mourn over an old man that dies rich; but we lament the young, that
are taken away in the progress of their fortune. You yourselves look
upon me with pity, not that I am going unprepared to meet the Judge
of quick and dead, but that I am to leave a prosperous trade in the
flower of my life.
This is the wisdom of our manly thoughts: And yet what folly of the
silliest children is so great as this?
For what is there miserable in death, but the consequences of it? When
a man is dead, what does any thing signify to him, but the state he is
then in?
Our poor friend _Lepidus_ died, you know, as he was dressing himself
for a _feast_. Do you think it is now part of his trouble, that he did
not live till that entertainment was over? _Feasts_, and _business_,
and pleasures, and _enjoyments_, seem great things to us, whilst we
think of nothing else; but as soon as we add death to them, they all
sink into an equal littleness; and the soul, that is separated from
the body, no more laments the loss of business, than the losing of a
_feast_.
If I am now going into the joys of God, could there be any reason
to grieve, that this happened to me before I was forty years of age?
Could it be a sad thing to go to heaven, before I had made a few more
_bargains_, or stood a little longer behind a _counter_?
And if I am to go amongst lost spirits, could there be any reason to
be content, that this did not happen to me till I was old, and full of
riches? If good angels were ready to receive my soul, could it be any
grief to me, that I was dying upon a _poor bed_ in a _garret_?
And if God has delivered me up to evil spirits, to be dragged by them
to places of torment, could it be any comfort to me, that they found
me upon a _bed of state_?
11. When you are as near death as I am, you will know, that all the
different states of life, whether of youth or age, riches or poverty,
greatness or meanness, signify no more to you, than whether you die in
a _poor_ or _stately_ apartment.
The greatness of those things which follow death, makes all that go
before it sink into nothing.
Now that everlasting happiness or misery is come so near, all the
enjoyments and prosperities of life seem as vain and insignificant,
and to have no more to do with my happiness than the cloaths I wore
before I could speak.
But, my friends, how am I surprized, that I have not always had these
thoughts? For what is there in the terrors of death, in the vanities
of life, or the necessities of piety, but what I might have as easily
and fully seen in any part of my life?
What a strange thing is it, that a little _health_, or the poor
business of a _shop_, should keep us so senseless of these great
things that are coming so fast upon us!
12. Just as you came into my chamber, I was thinking with myself,
what numbers of souls there are now in the world, in my condition
at this very time, surprized with a summons to the other world; some
taken from their _shops_ and _farms_, others from their _sports_ and
_pleasures_, these at _suits at law_, those at _gaming-tables_, some
on the _road_, others at their own _fire-sides_, and all seized at an
hour when they thought not of it; frighted at the approach of death,
confounded at the vanity of all their labours, designs and projects,
astonished at the folly of their past lives, and not knowing which way
to turn their thoughts, to find any comfort; their consciences flying
in their faces, bringing all their sins to remembrance, presenting
them with the sight of the angry Judge, the worm that never dies, the
fire that is never quenched, the gates of hell, the powers of darkness,
and the bitter pains of eternal death.
Oh my friends! bless God that you are not of this number, that you
have time and strength so to employ yourselves, as may bring you peace
at the last.
13. You, perhaps when you consider that I have lived free from scandal
and debauchery, and in the communion of the church, wonder to see me
so full of remorse and self-condemnation at the approach of death.
It is true, I have lived in the communion of the church, and
frequented its service on _Sundays_, when I was not too _idle_, or
otherwise disposed of by my _business_ and _pleasures_: but then, my
conformity to the public worship has been rather a thing of course,
than from any real intention of glorifying God; had it been so, I had
been more devout when there, and more fearful of ever neglecting it.
14. But the thing that now surprizes me above all wonders, is this,
that I never had so much as a _general intention_ of living up to the
piety of the gospel. This never so much as entered into my heart. I
never once in my life considered, whether my way of life was such as
would procure me the mercy of God at this hour.
How easy a thing would salvation be, if it could fall into my careless
hands, who have never had so much serious thought ♦about it, as about
any one common bargain that I have made?
♦ duplicate word removed ‘about’
Do you think any thing can astonish and confound a dying man like
this? What pain do you think a man must feel, when his conscience
lays all this folly to his charge, when it shews him how regular,
exact, and wise he has been in small matters, that are passed away
like a dream, and how stupid and senseless he has lived without
any reflection, in things of such eternal moment, as no heart can
sufficiently conceive them?
Oh my friends! a careless life, unconcerned and inattentive to the
duties of religion, is so without all excuse, so unworthy of the mercy
of God, such a shame to the sense and reason of our minds, that I can
hardly conceive a greater punishment, than for a man to be thrown into
the state that I am in, to reflect upon it.
_Penitens_ was here going on, but had his mouth stopped by a
_convulsion_, which never suffered him to speak any more. He lay
convulsed for about twelve hours, and then gave up the ghost.