Heavenly contemplation exemplified, and the whole Work concluded.
§ 1. The reader's attention excited to the following example of
meditation. § 2. "The excellencies of heavenly rest. § 3. Its nearness,
§ 4. Dreadful to sinners § 5. And joyful to saints; § 6. Its dear
purchase; § 7. Its difference from earth. § 8. The heart pleaded with.
§ 9. Unbelief banished. § 10. A careless world pitied. § 11-13.
Heavenly rest the object of love, § 14-21. And joy. § 22. The heart's
backwardness to heavenly joy lamented. § 23-27. Heavenly rest the
object of desire." § 28. Such meditations as this urged upon the
reader: § 29. The mischief of neglecting it: § 30. The happiness of
pursuing it. § 31. The Author's concluding prayer for the success of
his work.
§ 1. And now reader, according to the above directions, make conscience
of daily exercising thy graces in meditation, as well as prayer: Retire
into some secret place, at a time the most convenient to thyself, and
laying aside all worldly thoughts, with all possible seriousness and
reverence, look up toward heaven, remember there is thine everlasting
rest, study its excellency and reality, and rise from sense to faith, by
comparing heavenly with earthly joys: Then mix ejaculations with thy
soliloquies; till having pleaded the case reverently with God, and
seriously with thy own heart, thou hast pleaded thyself from a clod to a
flame, from a forgetful sinner, and a lover of the world, to an ardent
lover of God, from a fearful coward, to a resolved Christian, from an
unfruitful sadness, to a joyful life: In a word, till thou hast pleaded
thy heart from earth to heaven, from conversing below to walking with
God; and till thou canst lay thy heart to rest, as in the bosom of
Christ, by some such meditation of thy everlasting rest as is here added
for thy assistance.
§ 2. "Rest! How sweet the sound! It is melody to my ears! It lies as a
reviving cordial at my heart, and from thence sends forth lively
spirits, which beat through all the pulses of my soul! Rest,—not as the
stone that rests on the earth, nor as the flesh shall rest in the grave,
nor such a rest as the carnal world desires. O blessed rest! When we
_rest not day and night, saying, Holy, holy, holy Lord God Almighty_!
When we shall rest from sin, but not from worship; from suffering and
sorrow, but not from joy! O blessed day! When I shall rest with God!
When I shall rest in the bosom of my Lord! When I shall rest in knowing,
loving, rejoicing, and praising! When my perfect soul and body shall
together perfectly enjoy the most perfect God! When God, _who is love_
itself, shall perfectly love me, and _rest in his love_ to me, as I
shall rest in my love to him; and _rejoice over me with joy_, and _joy
over me with singing_, as I shall rejoice in him!
§ 3. "How near is that most blessed, joyful day! It comes apace. _He
that shall come, will come, and will not tarry._ Though _my Lord_ seems
to _delay his coming_, yet _a little while_ and he will be here. What is
a few hundred years, when they are over? How surely will _his sign
appear_? How suddenly will he seize upon the careless world, even _as
the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth unto the west_? He who
is gone hence _shall so come_. Methinks I hear his _trumpet sound_!
Methinks I _see him coming with clouds_; with his attending angels in
majesty and glory!
§ 4. "O secure sinners! What now will you do? Where will you _hide
yourselves_? What shall _cover_ you? _mountains_ are gone; _the heavens
and the earth, which were_, are _passed away_; the devouring fire hath
consumed all, except yourselves, who must be the fuel for ever. O that
all could consume as soon as the earth; and _melt_ away as did _the
heavens_! Ah, these wishes are now but vain! The Lamb himself would have
been your friend; he would have loved you, and ruled you, and now have
saved you; but you would not _then_, and _now_ it is too late. Never cry
_Lord, Lord_; too late, too late, man. Why dost thou look about? Can any
save thee? Whither dost thou run? Can any hide thee? O wretch, that hast
brought thyself to this!
§ 5. "Now, blessed saints, that have believed and obeyed! This is the
end of faith and patience. This is it for which you prayed and waited.
Do you now repent your sufferings and sorrows, your self-denying and
holy walking? Are your tears of repentance now bitter or sweet! See how
the Judge smiles upon you; there is love in his looks; the titles of
_Redeemer_, _Husband_, _Head_, are written in his amiable, shining face.
Hark, he calls you, he bids you stand here _on his right-hand_; fear
not, for there _he sets his sheep_. O joyful sentence! _Come, ye blessed
of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation
of the world._ He takes you by the hand, the door is open, the kingdom
is his, and therefore yours; there is your place before his throne; the
father receives you as the spouse of his Son, and bids you welcome to
the crown of glory. Ever so unworthy, you must be crowned. This was the
project of free redeeming grace, the purpose of eternal love. O blessed
grace! O blessed love! O how love and joy will rise! but I cannot
express it, I cannot conceive it.
§ 6. "This is that joy which was produced by sorrow, that crown which
was procured by the cross. My Lord _wept_, that now my _tears might be
wiped away_; He bled, that I might now rejoice; he was _forsaken_, that
I might not now be forsook; he then _died, that I might_ now _live_. O
free mercy, that can exalt so vile a wretch! Free to me though dear to
Christ! Free grace, that hath chosen me, when thousands were forsaken!
When my companions in sin must burn in hell, I must here rejoice in
rest! Here must I live with all these saints! O comfortable meeting of
my old acquaintance, with whom I prayed, and wept and suffered, and
_spoke often_ of this day and place! I see the grave could not detain
you; the same love hath redeemed and saved you also.
§ 7. "This is not like our cottages of clay, our prisons, our earthly
dwellings. This voice of joy is not like our old complaints, our
impatient groans and sighs; nor this melodious praise like the scoffs
and revilings, or the oaths and curses, which we heard on earth. This
body is not like that we had, nor this soul like the soul we had, nor
this life like the life we lived. We have changed our place and state,
our clothes and thoughts, our looks, language, and company. Before, a
saint was weak and despised; so proud and peevish, we could often scarce
discern his graces: but now how glorious a thing is a saint! Where is
now their body of sin, which wearied themselves and those about them?
Where are now our different judgments, reproachful names, divided
spirits, exasperated passions, strange looks, uncharitable censures? Now
we are all of one _judgment_, of one _name_, of one _heart_, _house_,
and _glory_. O sweet reconciliation! Happy union! Now the gospel shall
no more be dishonored through our folly. No more, my soul, shalt thou
lament the sufferings of the saints, or the church's ruins, nor mourn
thy suffering friends, nor weep over their dying beds, or their graves.
Thou shalt never suffer thy old temptations from Satan, the world, or
thy own flesh. Thy pains and sicknesses are all cured; thy body shall no
more burden thee with weakness and weariness; thy aching head and heart,
thy hunger and thirst, thy sleep and labor, are all gone. O what a
mighty change is this! From the dunghill, to the throne! from
persecuting sinners, to praising saints! From a _vile body_, to this
which _shines as the brightness of the firmament_! From a sense of God's
displeasure, to the perfect enjoyment of him in love! From all my doubts
and fears, to this possession, which puts me out of doubt! From all my
fearful thoughts of death, to this joyful life! Blessed change!
Farewell, sin, and sorrow, for ever: Farewell, my rocky, proud,
unbelieving heart; my worldly, sensual, carnal heart: And welcome now my
most holy, heavenly nature. Farewell, repentance, faith, and hope; and
welcome, love, and joy, and praise. I shall now have my harvest, without
ploughing or sowing; my joy without a preacher, or a promise; even all
from the face of God himself. Whatever mixture is in the streams, there
is nothing but pure joy in the Fountain. Here shall I be encircled with
eternity and ever live, and ever, ever praise the Lord. My face will not
wrinkle, nor my hair be grey; _for this corruptible_ shall have _put on
incorruption, and this mortal immortality_, and _death_ shall be
_swallowed up in victory. O death, where is_ now _thy sting? O grave,
where is thy victory?_ The date of my lease will no more expire, nor
shall I trouble myself with thoughts of death, nor lose my joys through
fear of losing them. When millions of ages are passed, my glory is but
beginning; and when millions more are passed, it is no nearer ending.
Every day is all noon, every month is harvest, every year is a jubilee,
even age is full manhood, and all this is one eternity. O blessed
eternity! The glory of my glory! the perfection of my perfection!
§ 8. "Ah drowsy, earthly heart! How coldly dost thou think of this
reviving day? Hadst thou rather sit down in dirt, than walk in the
palace of God? Art thou now remembering thy worldly business, or
thinking of thy lusts, earthly delights and merry company? Is it better
to be here, than above with God? Is the company better? Are the
pleasures greater? Come away; make no excuse, nor delay; God commands,
and I command thee; gird up thy loins; ascend the mount; look about thee
with faith and seriousness. Look not back upon the way of the
wilderness; except it be to compare the kingdom with that howling
desert, more sensibly to perceive the wide difference. Yonder is thy
Father's glory; yonder, O my soul! must thou remove, when thou departest
from this body; and when the power of thy Lord hath raised it again, and
joined thee to it, yonder must thou live with God for ever. There is the
glorious new Jerusalem, the gates of pearl, the foundations of pearl,
the streets and pavement of transparent gold. That sun, which lighteth
all this world, will be useless there; even thyself shall be as bright
as yonder shining sun; God will be the sun, and Christ the light, and in
his light shalt thou have light.
§ 9. "O my soul! dost thou _stagger at the promise of God through
unbelief_? I much suspect thee, didst thou believe indeed thou wouldst
be more affected with it. Is it not under the hand, and seal, and oath
of God? Can God lie? Can he that is truth itself be false? What need
hath God to flatter or deceive thee? Why should he promise thee more
than he will perform? Dare not to charge the wise, almighty, faithful
God with this. How many of the promises have been performed to thee in
thy conversion? Would God so powerfully concur with a feigned word? O
wretched heart of unbelief? Hath God made thee a promise of rest, and
wilt thou come short of it? Thine eyes, thy ears, and all thy senses,
may prove delusions, sooner than a promise of God can delude thee. Thou
mayest be surer of that which is written in the word, than if thou see
it with thine eyes, or feel it with thine hands. Art thou sure thou art
alive, or that this is earth thou standest on, or that thine eyes see
the sun? As sure is all this glory to the saints; as sure shall I be
higher than yonder stars, and live for ever in the _holy city_, and
joyfully sound forth the praise of my Redeemer; if I be not shut out by
this _evil heart of unbelief_, causing me to _depart from the living
God_.
§ 10. "And is this rest so sweet, and so sure? Then what means the
careless world? Know they what they neglect? Did they ever hear of it,
or are they yet asleep, or are they dead? Do they certainly know that
the crown is before them, while they thus sit still or follow trifles?
Undoubtedly they are beside themselves, to mind so much their provision
by the way, when they are hasting so fast to another world, and their
eternal happiness lies at stake. Were there left one spark of reason,
they would never sell their rest for toil, nor their glory for worldly
vanities, nor venture heaven for sinful pleasure. Poor men! O that you
would once consider what you hazard, and then you would scorn these
tempting baits! Blessed for ever be that love, which hath rescued me
from this bewitching darkness!
§ 11. "Draw yet nearer, O my soul! with thy most fervent love. Here is
matter for it to work upon, something worth thy loving. O see what
beauty presents itself! Is not all the beauty in the world united here?
Is not all other beauty but deformity? Dost thou now need to be
persuaded to love? Here is a feast for thine eyes, and all the powers of
thy soul; dost thou need entreaties to feed upon it? Canst thou love a
little shining earth, a walking piece of clay? And canst thou not love
that God, that Christ, that glory, which is so truly and unmeasurably
lovely? Thou canst love thy friend, because he loves thee; and is the
love of a friend like the love of Christ? Their weeping or bleeding for
thee, do not ease thee, nor stay the course of thy tears or blood: But
the tears and blood that fell from thy Lord, have a sovereign healing
virtue. O my soul! if love _deserves_, and should beget love, what
incomprehensible love is here before thee? Pour out all the store of thy
affections here, and all is too little. O that it were more; O that it
were many thousand times more! Let him be first served, that served thee
first. Let him have the first-born, and strength of thy soul! who parted
with strength and life in love for thee. O my soul! Dost thou love for
excellency? Yonder is the region of light; this is a land of darkness.
Yonder twinkling stars, that shining moon, and radiant sun, are all but
lanthorns hung out of thy Father's house, to light thee while thou
walkest in this dark world: But how little dost thou know the glory and
blessedness that is within?—Dost thou love for suitableness? What person
more suitable than Christ? His godhead and humanity, his fulness and
freeness, his willingness and constancy, all proclaim him thy suitable
friend. What state more suitable to thy misery, than mercy? Or to thy
sin and pollution, than honor and perfection? What place more suitable
to thee than heaven? Does this world agree with thy desires; hast thou
not a sufficient trial of it?—Or dost thou love for interest and near
relation? Where hast thou better interest than in heaven, or nearer
relation than there?
§ 12. "Dost thou love for acquaintance and familiarity? Though thine
eyes have never seen thy Lord, yet thou hast heard his voice, received
his benefits, and lived in his bosom; He taught thee to know thyself and
him; he opened thee that first window through which thou sawest into
heaven. Hast thou forgotten since thy heart was careless, and he
awakened it; hard, and he softened it; stubborn, and he made it yield;
at peace, and he troubled it; whole, and he broke it; and broken, till
he healed it again? Hast thou forgotten the times when he found thee in
tears; when he heard thy secret sighs and groans, and left all to come
and comfort thee; when he took thee, as it were, in his arms, and asked
thee, poor soul, what ails thee? Dost thou weep, when I have wept so
much? Be of good cheer; thy wounds are saving, and not deadly; It is I
have made them, who mean thee no hurt; though I let out thy blood, I
will not let out thy life." I remember his voice. How gently did he take
me up? How carefully did he dress my wounds? Methinks I hear him still
saying to me, "poor sinner, though thou hast dealt unkindly with me, and
cast me off; yet I will not do so by thee. Though thou hast set light by
me and all my mercies, yet they and myself are all thine. What wouldst
thou have that I can give thee? And what dost thou want that I cannot
give thee? If any thing I have will pleasure thee, thou shalt have it.
Wouldst thou have pardon? I freely forgive thee all thy debt. Wouldst
thou have grace and peace? Thou shalt have them both. Wouldst thou have
myself? Behold I am thine, thy Friend, thy Lord, thy Brother, Husband,
and Head. Wouldst thou have the Father? I will bring thee to him, and
thou shalt have him, in and by me." These were my Lord's reviving words.
After all, when I was doubtful of his love, methinks I yet remember his
overcoming arguments. "Have I done so much, sinner, to testify my love,
and yet dost thou doubt? Have I offered thee myself and love so long and
yet dost thou question my willingness to be thine? At what dearer rate
should I tell thee that I love thee? Wilt thou not believe my bitter
passion proceeded from love? Have I made myself in the gospel a lion to
thine enemies, and a lamb to thee, and dost thou overlook my lamb-like
nature? Had I been willing to let thee perish, what need I have done and
suffered so much? What need I follow thee with such patience and
importunity? Why dost thou tell me of thy wants; have I not enough for
me and thee? Or of thy unworthiness; for if thou wast thyself worthy,
what shouldst thou do with my worthiness? Did I ever invite, or save,
the worthy and the righteous; or is there any such upon earth? Hast thou
nothing; art thou lost and miserable, helpless and forlorn? Dost thou
believe I am an all-sufficient Savior, and wouldst thou have me? Lo, I
am thine, take me; if thou art willing, I am; and neither sin, nor
Satan, shall break the match." These, O these, were the blessed words
which his Spirit from his gospel spoke unto me, till he made me cast
myself at his feet, and cry out, "My Savior, and my Lord, thou hast
broke, thou hast revived my heart; thou hast overcome, thou hast won my
heart; take it, it is thine; if such a heart can please thee, take it;
if it cannot, make it such as thou wouldst have it." Thus, O my soul!
Mayest thou remember the sweet familiarity thou hast had with Christ;
therefore, if acquaintance will cause affection, let out thy heart unto
him. It is he hath stood by thy bed of sickness, hath eased thy pains,
refreshed thy weariness, and removed thy fears. He hath been always
ready, when thou hast earnestly sought him? hath met thee in public and
private; hath been found of thee in the congregation, in thy house, in
thy closet, in the field, in thy waking nights, in thy deepest dangers.
§ 13. "If bounty and compassion be an attractive of love, how
unmeasurably then am I bound to love him? All the mercies that have
filled up my life, all the places that ever I abode in, all the
societies and persons I have been conversant with, all my employments
and relations, every condition I have been in, and every change I have
passed through, all tell me, that the fountain is _overflowing
goodness_. Lord what a sum of Love am I indebted to thee? And how does
my debt continually increase? How should I love again for so much love?
But shall I dare to think of requiting thee, or of recompensing all thy
love with mine? Will my mite requite thee for thy golden mines; my
seldom wishes, for thy constant bounty, mine which is nothing, or not
mine, for thine which is infinite and thine own? Shall I dare to contend
in love with thee? or set my borrowed languid spark against the Sun of
love? Can I love as high, as deep, as broad, as long, as Love itself; as
much as he that made me, and that made me love, and gave me all that
little which I have? As I cannot match thee in the works of power, nor
make, nor preserve, nor rule the worlds; no more can I match thee in
love. No, Lord, I yield; I am overcome. O blessed conquest! Go on
victoriously, and still prevail, and triumph in thy love. The captive of
love shall proclaim thy victory! when thou leadest me in triumph from
earth to heaven, from death to life, from the tribunal to the throne;
myself, and all that see it, shall acknowledge thou hast prevailed, and
all shall say, _behold how he loved him_! Yet let me love in subjection
to thy love; as thy redeemed captive, though not thy peer. Shall I not
love at all, because I cannot reach thy measure? O that I could
feelingly say, _I love thee_, even as I love my friend, and myself!
Though I cannot say, as the Apostle, _Thou knowest that I love thee_;
yet I can say, Lord, thou knowest that I would love thee; I am angry
with my heart, that it doth not love thee; I chide it, yet it doth not
mend; I reason with it, and would fain persuade it, yet I do not
perceive it stir; I rub and chafe it in the use of thy ordinances, and
yet I feel it not warm within me. Unworthy soul! Is not thine eye now
upon the only lovely object? Art thou not beholding the ravishing glory
of the saints? And dost thou not love? Art thou not a rational soul, and
should not reason tell thee, that earth is a dungeon to the celestial
glory? Art thou not thyself a spirit, and shouldst thou not love God,
_who is a spirit, and the Father of spirits_? Why dost thou love so much
thy perishing clay, and love no more the heavenly glory? Shalt thou love
when thou comest there; when the Lord shall take thy carcase from the
grave, and make thee shine as the sun in glory for ever and ever; shalt
thou then love, or shalt thou not? Is not the place a meeting of lovers?
Is not the life a state of love? Is it not the great marriage day of the
Lamb? Is not the employment there the work of love, where the souls with
Christ take their fill? O then, my soul, begin it here! _Be sick of
love_ now, that thou mayest be well with love there. _Keep thyself now
in the love of God_; and let _neither life, nor death, nor any thing
separate thee from it_; and thou shalt be kept in the fulness of love
for ever, and nothing shall embitter or abate thy pleasure; for the Lord
hath prepared a city of love, a place for communicating love to his
chosen, _and they that love his name shall dwell therein_.
§ 14. "Awake then, O my drowsy soul! To sleep under the light of grace
is unreasonable, much more in the approach of the light of glory. Come
forth, my dull congealed spirit, thy Lord bids thee _rejoice and again
rejoice_. Thou hast lain long enough in thy prison of flesh, where Satan
hath been thy jailor, cares have been thy irons, fears thy scourges, and
thy food the bread and water of affliction: where sorrows have been thy
lodging, and thy sins and foes have made the bed, and an unbelieving
heart hath been the gates and bars that have kept thee in: The angel of
the covenant now calls thee, and strikes thee, and bids thee, _arise and
follow him_. Up, O my soul! and cheerfully obey, and thy bolts and bars
shall all fly open; _follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth_. Shouldst
thou fear to follow such a guide? Can the sun lead thee to a state of
darkness? Will he lead thee to death, who died to save thee from it?
Follow him, and he will shew thee _the paradise of God_; He will give
thee a sight of the _New Jerusalem_, and a taste of _the tree of life_.
Come forth, my drooping soul, and lay aside thy winter-dress; let it be
seen by thy _garments of joy and praise_, that the spring is come, and
as thou now seest thy comforts green; thou shalt shortly see them _white
and ripe for harvest_, and then thou shalt be called to reap, and
gather, and take possession. Should I suspend and delay my joys till
then? Should not the joys of the spring go before the joys of harvest?
Is title nothing before possession? Is the heir in no better a state
than a slave? My Lord hath taught me to _rejoice_ in _hope of his
glory_; and how to see it through the bars of a prison; for _when I am
persecuted for righteousness' sake_, he commands me to _rejoice, and be
exceeding glad_, because _my reward in heaven is great_. I know he would
have my joys exceed my sorrows; and as much as he delights in the humble
and contrite he yet more delights in the soul that _delights in him_.
Hath my Lord spread me a table in this wilderness, and furnished it with
the promises of everlasting glory, and set before me angels' food? Doth
he frequently and importunately invite me to sit down, and feed, and
spare not? Hath he, to that end, furnished me with reason, and faith,
and a joyful disposition; and is it possible that he should be unwilling
to have me rejoice? Is it not his command, to _delight thyself in the
Lord_; and his promise, to _give thee the desires of thine heart_? Art
thou not charged, to _rejoice evermore_: yea, to _sing aloud, and shout,
for joy_? Why should I then be discouraged? My God is willing, if I were
but willing. He is delighted in my delights. He would have it my
constant frame, and daily business, to be near him in my believing
meditations, and to live in the sweetest thoughts of his goodness. O
blessed employment, fit for the sons of God! But thy feast, my Lord, is
nothing to me without an appetite: Thou hast set the dainties of heaven
before me; but, alas! I am blind, and cannot see them; I am sick, and
cannot relish them; I am so benumbed, that I cannot put forth a hand to
take them. I therefore humbly beg this grace, that as thou hast opened
heaven to me in thy word, so thou wouldst _open mine eyes to see_ it,
and my heart to delight in it; else heaven will be no heaven to me. O
thou Spirit of life, breathe upon thy graces in me; take me by the hand,
and lift me from earth, that I may see what glory _thou hast prepared
for them that love thee_!
§ 15. "Away then, ye soul-tormenting cares and fears, ye heart-vexing
sorrows: At least forbear a little while; stand by; stay here below,
till I go up, and see my rest. The way is strange to me, but not to
Christ. There was the eternal abode of his glorious Deity; and thither
hath he also brought his glorified flesh. It was his work to purchase
it; it is his to prepare it, and prepare me for it, and bring me to it.
The eternal God of truth hath given me his promise, his seal, and oath,
_that, believing in Christ, I shall not perish, but have everlasting
life_. Thither shall my soul be speedily removed, and my body very
shortly follow. And can my tongue say, that I shall shortly and surely
live with God; and yet my heart not leap within me? Can I say it with
faith, and not with joy! Ah! faith, how sensibly do I now perceive thy
weakness! But though unbelief darken my light, and dull my life, and
suppress my joys, it shall not be able to conquer, and destroy me;
though it envy all my comforts, yet some in spite of it I shall even
here receive; and if that did not hinder, what abundance might I have?
The light of heaven would shine into my heart; and I might be almost as
familiar there, as I am on earth. Come away then, my soul; stop thine
ears to the ignorant language of infidelity; thou art able to answer all
its arguments; or if thou art not, yet tread them under thy feet. Come
away; stand not looking on that grave, nor turning those bones, nor
reading thy lesson now in the dust; those lines will soon be wiped out.
But lift up thy head, and look to heaven, and see thy name in golden
letters, _written before the foundation of the world, in the book of
life of the Lamb that was slain_. What if an angel should tell thee,
that there is a mansion in heaven prepared for thee, that it shall
certainly be thine for ever, would not such a message make thee glad?
And dost thou make light of the infallible word of promise, which was
delivered by the Spirit, and even by the Son himself? Suppose thou hadst
seen a _fiery chariot_ come for thee, and fetch thee up to heaven, like
Elijah; would not this rejoice thee? But thy Lord assures thee, that the
soul of a Lazarus hath a convoy of _angels_ to _carry_ it _into
Abraham's bosom_. Shall a drunkard be so merry among his cups, or the
glutton in his delicious fare, and shall not I rejoice who must shortly
be in heaven? Can meat and drink delight me when I hunger and thirst;
can I find pleasure in walks and gardens, and convenient dwellings; can
beautiful objects delight mine eyes; or grateful odors my smell; or
melody my ears: and shall not the forethought of celestial bliss delight
me? Methinks among my books I could employ myself in sweet content, and
bid the world farewell, and pity the rich and great that know not this
happiness; what then will my happiness in heaven be, where my knowledge
will be perfect? If _the Queen of Sheba came from the utmost parts of
the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon_, and see his glory; how
cheerfully should I pass from earth to heaven, to see the glory of the
eternal Majesty, and attain the height of wisdom; compared with which
the most learned on earth are but fools and ideots? What if God had made
me commander of the earth; what if I could _remove mountains_, _heal
diseases with a word or a touch_, or _cast out Devils_; should I not
rejoice in such privileges and honors as these; and shall I not much
more _rejoice that_ my name is written in heaven? I cannot here enjoy my
parents, or my near and beloved friends, without some delight;
especially when I did freely let out my affection to my friend, how
sweet was that exercise of my love! O what will it then be to live in
the perpetual love of God! _For brethren to dwell together in unity_
here, _how good and how pleasant is it_! To see a family live in love,
husband and wife, parents, children, and servants, doing all in love to
one another; to see a town live together in love, without any envyings,
brawlings or contentions, law-suits, factions, or divisions, but every
man loving his neighbor as himself, thinking they can never do too much
for one another, but striving to go beyond each other in love; how
happy, how delightful a sight is this! O then, what a blessed society
will the family of heaven be, and those peaceful inhabitants of the New
Jerusalem, where there is no division, nor differing judgments, no
disaffection nor strangeness, no deceitful friendship, no, not one
unkind expression, nor any angry look or thought; but _all are one in
Christ_, who is one with the Father, and all live in the love of him,
who is love itself! The soul is not more where it lives, than where it
loves. How near then will my soul be united to God, when I shall so
heartily, strongly, and incessantly love him! Ah, wretched, unbelieving
heart, that can think of such a day, and work, and life as this, with
such low and feeble joys! But my future enjoying joys will be more
lively!
§ 16. "How delightful is it to me to behold and study these inferior
works of creation? What a beautiful fabric do we here dwell in; the
floor so dressed with herbs, and flowers, and trees, and watered with
springs and rivers; the roof so wide expanded, so admirably adorned!
What wonders do sun, moon, and stars, seas, and winds, contain! And hath
God prepared such a house for corruptible flesh, for a soul imprisoned;
and doth he bestow so many millions of wonders upon his enemies! O what
a dwelling must that be, which he prepares for his dearly beloved
children; and how will the glory of the new Jerusalem exceed all the
present glory of the creatures? Arise then, O my soul, in thy
contemplation; and let thy thoughts of that glory as far exceed in
sweetness thy thoughts of the excellencies below! Fear not to go out of
this body, and this world, when thou must make so happy a change; but
say, as one did when he was dying, I am glad, and even leap for joy,
that the time is come in which that mighty JEHOVAH, whose Majesty, in my
search of nature I have admired, whose goodness I have adored, whom by
faith I have desired and panted after, will now shew himself to me face
to face.
§ 17. "How wonderful also are the works of Providence? How delightful to
see the great God interest himself in the safety and advancement of a
few humble, praying, but despised persons; and to review those special
mercies with which my own life hath been adorned and sweetened? How
often have my prayers been heard, my tears regarded, my troubled soul
relieved? How often hath my Lord bid me _be of good cheer_? What a
support are these experiences, these clear testimonies of my Father's
love, to my fearful unbelieving heart? O then, what a blessed day will
that be, when I shall have all mercy, perfection of mercy, and fully
enjoy the Lord of mercy; when I shall stand on the shore, and look back
on the raging seas I have safely passed; when I shall review my pains
and sorrows, my fears and tears, and possess the glory which was the end
of all? If one drop of lively faith was mixed with these considerations,
what a heaven-ravishing heart should I carry within me? Fain would _I
believe; Lord, help my unbelief_.
§ 18. "How sweet, O my soul, have ordinances been to thee? What delight
hast thou had in prayer, and thanksgiving, under heavenly sermons, and
in the society of saints, and to see _the Lord adding to the church such
as should be saved_? How can my heart then conceive the joy, which I
shall have to see the perfected church in heaven, and to be admitted
into the celestial temple, and with the heavenly host praise the Lord
forever? If the _word of God_ was sweeter to Job than _his necessary
food_; and to David, _than honey and the honey-comb_; and _was the joy
and rejoicing of Jeremiah's heart_; how blessed a day will that be, when
we fully enjoy the Lord of this word, and shall no more need these
written precepts and promises, nor read any book but the face of the
glorious God? If they that heard Christ speak on earth, _were astonished
at his wisdom and answers_, and _wondered at the gracious words which
proceeded out of his mouth_; how shall I then be affected to behold him
in his majesty?
§ 19. "Can the prospect of this glory make others _welcome the cross_,
and even refuse deliverance; and cannot it make thee cheerful under
lesser sufferings? Can it sweeten the flames of martyrdom; and not
sweeten thy life, or thy sickness, or thy natural death? Is it not the
same heaven which they and I must live in? Is not their God, their
Christ, their crown, and mine the same? And shall I look upon it with an
eye so dim, a heart so dull, a countenance so dejected? Some small
foretastes of it have I myself had; and how much more delightful have
they been, than any earthly things ever were; and what then will the
full enjoyment be?
§ 20. "What a beauty is there here in the imperfect graces of the
Spirit? Alas! how small are these, to what we shall enjoy in our perfect
state? What a happy life should I here live, could I but love God as
much as I would; could I be all love, and always loving? O my soul! what
wouldst thou give for such a life? had I such apprehensions of God, such
knowledge of his word as I desire? could I fully trust him in all my
straits; could I be as lively as I would in every duty; could I make God
my constant desire and delight; I would not envy the world their honors
or pleasures. What a blessed state, O my soul! wilt thou shortly be in,
when thou shalt have far more of these than thou canst now desire, and
shalt exercise thy perfected graces in the immediate vision of God, and
not in the dark, and at a distance, as now?
§ 21. "Is the sinning, afflicted, persecuted church of Christ, so much
more excellent than any particular gracious soul? What then will the
church be, when it is fully gathered and glorified; when it is ascended
from the valley of tears to mount Sion; when it shall sin and suffer no
more! The glory of the old Jerusalem will be darkness and deformity to
the glory of the _new_. What cause shall we have then to shout for joy,
when we shall see how glorious the heavenly temple is, and remember the
meanness of the church on earth?"
[N. B. _If this Chapter seems too long to be read at once, it may be
properly divided here._]
§ 22. "But alas! what a loss am I at in the midst of my contemplations?
I thought my heart had all the while attended, but I see it doth not.
What life is there in empty thoughts and words, without affections?
Neither God, nor I, find pleasure in them. Where hast thou been,
unworthy heart, while I was opening to thee the everlasting treasures?
Art thou not ashamed to complain so much of an uncomfortable life, and
to murmur at God for filling thee with sorrows; when he in vain offers
thee the delights of angels? Hadst thou now but followed me close, it
would have made thee revive and leap for joy, and forget thy pains and
sorrows. Did I think my heart had been so backward to rejoice?
§ 23. "Lord, thou hast reserved my perfect joys for heaven: therefore,
help me to desire till I may possess, and let me long when I cannot, as
I would rejoice. O my soul, thou knowest to thy sorrow, that thou art
not yet at thy rest. When shall I arrive at that safe and quiet harbor,
where there are none of these storms, waves, and dangers; when I shall
never more have a weary restless night or day! Then my life will not be
such a mixture of hope and fear, of joy and sorrow; nor shall flesh and
spirit be combatting within me; nor faith and unbelief, humility and
pride, maintain a continual conflict. O when shall I be past these
soul-tormenting fears, and cares, and griefs? When shall I be out of
this soul-contradicting, ensnaring, deceitful flesh; this corruptible
body, this vain, vexatious world! Alas, that I must stand and see the
church and cause of Christ tossed about in contention, and made
subservient to private interests, or deluded fancies! There is none of
this disorder in the heavenly Jerusalem; there I shall find an
harmonious consent of perfected spirits, in obeying and praising their
everlasting King. O how much better to be a _door-keeper_ there, than
the commander of this tumultuous world? Why am I no more weary of this
weariness? Why do I so forget my resting place? Up then, O my soul, in
thy most raised and fervent desires! Stay not till this flesh can desire
with thee; expect not that sense should apprehend thy blessed object,
and tell thee when and what to desire. Doth not the dulness of thy
desires after rest, accuse thee of most detestable ingratitude and
folly? Must thy Lord procure thee a rest at so dear a rate, and dost
thou no more value it? Must he go before to prepare so glorious a
mansion for such a wretch, and art thou loth to go and possess it? Shall
the Lord of Glory be desirous of thy company, and thou not desirous of
his? Must earth become a very hell to thee, before thou art willing to
be with God? Behold the most lovely creature, or the most desirable
state, and tell me, where wouldst thou be, if not with God? Poverty is a
burden; riches a snare; sickness unpleasing; health unsafe; the frowning
world _bruises thy heel_; the smiling world _stings_ thee to the heart;
so much as the world is loved and delighted in, it hurts and endangers
the lover; and, if it may not be loved, why should it be desired? If
thou art applauded, it proves the most contagious breath; if thou art
vilified, or unkindly used, methinks this should not entice thy love. If
thy successful labors, and thy godly friends, seem better to thee than a
life with God, it is time for God to take them from thee. If thy studies
have been sweet, have they not also been bitter? And at best, what are
they to the everlasting views of the God of truth? Thy friends here have
been thy delight; and have they not also been thy vexation and grief?
They are gracious, and are they not also sinful? They are kind, and are
they not soon displeased? They are humble, but, alas, how proud also?
Their graces are sweet, and their gifts helpful; but are not their
corruptions bitter, and their imperfections hurtful? And art thou so
loth to go from them to thy God?
§ 24. "O my soul, look above this world of sorrows! Hast thou so long
felt the smarting rod of affliction, and no better understood its
meaning? Is not every stroke to drive thee hence? Is not its voice like
that to Elijah, _what dost thou here_? Dost thou forget thy Lord's
prediction. _In the world ye shall have tribulation, in me ye may have
peace._ Ah! my dear Lord, I feel thy meaning; it is written in my flesh,
engraved in my bones. My heart thou aimest at; thy rod drives, thy
silken cord of love draws; and all to bring it to thyself. Lord, can
such a heart be worth thy having? Make it worthy, and then it is thine;
take it to thyself, and then take me. This clod hath life to stir, but
not to rise. As the feeble child to the tender mother, it looketh up to
thee, and stretcheth out the hands, and fain would have thee take it up.
Though I cannot say, _my soul longeth after thee_; yet I can say, I long
for such a longing heart. _The spirit is willing, the flesh is weak._ My
spirit cries, _let thy kingdom come_, or let me come to thy kingdom; but
the flesh is afraid thou shouldst hear my prayer, and take me at my
word. O blessed be thy grace, which makes use of my corruptions to kill
themselves; for I fear my fears, and sorrow for my sorrows, and long for
greater longings; and thus the painful means of attaining my desires
increase my weariness, and that makes me groan to be at rest.
§ 25. "Indeed, Lord, my soul itself is _in a strait_, and _what to
choose I know not_; but thou knowest what to give: _to depart, and be
with thee, is far better_. But _to abide in the flesh_ seems _needful_.
Thou knowest I am not weary of thy work, but of sorrow and sin; I am
willing to stay while thou wilt employ me, and dispatch the work thou
hast put into my hands: But, I beseech thee, stay no longer when this is
done; and while I must be here, let me be still amending and ascending;
make me still better and take me at the best. I dare not be so
impatient, as to importune thee to cut off my time, and snatch me hence
unready; because I know my everlasting state so much depends on the
improvement of this life. Nor would I stay when my work is done; and
remain here sinning, while my brethren are triumphing. Thy footsteps
bruise this worm, while those stars shine in the firmament of glory. Yet
I am thy child as well as they; Christ is my Head as well as theirs; why
is there then so great a distance? But I acknowledge the equity of thy
ways; though we are all children, yet I am the prodigal, and therefore
more fit in this remote country to _feed on husks_, while they are
_always with thee_, and possess thy glory. They were once themselves in
my condition, and I shall shortly be in theirs. They were of the lowest
form, before they came to the highest; they _suffered_, before they
_reigned_; they _came out of great tribulation, who are_ now _before thy
throne_; and shall not I be content to come to the crown as they did;
and to _drink of their cup_; before I _sit with them in the kingdom_?
Lord, I am content to stay thy time, and go thy way, so thou wilt exalt
me also in thy season, and take me _into thy barn_, when thou seest me
ripe. In the mean time I may desire, though I am not to repine; I may
believe and wish, though not make any sinful haste: I am willing to wait
for thee, but not to lose thee; and when thou seest me too contented
with thine absence, then quicken my languid desires, and blow up the
dying spark of love; and leave me not till I am able unfeignedly to cry
out, '_As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul
after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God; when
shall I come and appear before God? My conversation is in heaven, from
whence I look for a Savior. My affections are set on things above, where
Christ sitteth, and my life is hid. I walk by faith, and not by sight;
willing rather to be absent from the body, and present with the Lord._'
§ 26. "What interest hath this empty world in me; and what is there in
it that may seem so lovely, as to entice my desires from my God, or make
me loth to come away? Methinks, when I look upon it with a deliberate
eye, it is a howling wilderness, and too many of its inhabitants are
untamed monsters; I can view all its beauty as deformity; and drown all
its pleasures in a few penitent tears; or the wind of a sigh will
scatter them away. O let not this flesh so seduce my soul, as to make it
prefer this weary life before the joys that are about thy throne! And
though death itself be unwelcome to nature, yet let thy grace make thy
glory appear to me so desirable, that the king of terrors may be the
messenger of my joy! Let not my soul be ejected by violence, and
dispossessed of its habitation against its will; but draw it to thyself
by the secret power of thy love as the sunshine in the spring draws
forth the creatures from their winter cells; meet it half way and entice
it to thee, as the load-stone doth the iron, and as the greater flame
attracts the less! Dispel therefore the clouds that hide thy love from
me; or remove the scales that hinder mine eyes from beholding thee; for
the beams that stream from thy face, and the foretaste of thy great
salvation, and nothing else can make a soul unfeignedly say _now let thy
servant depart in peace_! But it is not thy ordinary discoveries that
will here suffice; as the work is greater, so must thy help be. O turn
these fears into strong desires, and this lothness to die into longings
after thee! While I must be absent from thee, let my soul as heartily
groan, as my body doth under its want of health! If I have any more time
to spend on earth, let me live, as without the world, in thee, as I have
sometime lived as _without thee in the world_! While I have a thought to
think, let me not forget thee; or a tongue to move, let me mention thee
with delight; or a breath to breathe, let it be after thee, or for thee;
or a knee to bend, let it daily bow at thy footstool; and when by
sickness thou confinest me, do thou _make my bed, number my pains, and
put all my tears into thy bottle_!
§ 27. "As my flesh desired what my spirit abhorred, so now let my spirit
desire that day which my flesh abhorreth; that my friends may not with
so much sorrow wait for the departure of my soul, as my soul with joy
shall wait for its own departure! Then _let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my last end be like his_; even a removal to that
glory that shall never end! Then let thy convoy of angels bring my
departing soul among _the perfected spirits of the just_, and let me
follow my dear friends that have died _in Christ before me_; and while
my sorrowing friends are weeping over my grave, let my spirit be reposed
with thee in rest; and while my corpse shall lie rotting in the dark,
let my soul be in _the inheritance of the saints in light_! O thou that
_numberest the very hairs of my head_, number all the days that my body
lies in the dust; and thou that _writest all my members in thy book_,
keep an account of my scattered bones! O my Savior, hasten the time of
thy return; _send forth thy angels_, and let that dreadful, joyful
_trumpet sound_! Delay not, lest the living give up their hopes; delay
not, lest earth should grow like hell, and thy church, by division, be
all crumbled to dust; delay not, lest thy enemies get advantage of thy
flock, and lest pride, hypocrisy, sensuality, and unbelief prevail
against thy _little remnant_, and share amongst them thy whole
inheritance, and _when thou comest_, thou _find_ not _faith on the
earth_; delay not, lest the grave should boast of victory, and having
learned rebellion of its guest, should refuse to deliver thee up thy
due! O hasten that great resurrection day, when thy command shall go
forth, and none shall disobey; when _the sea and earth shall yield up
their_ hostages, _and all that sleep in the grave shall awake, and the
dead in Christ shall rise first_; when _the seed_ which thou sowedst
_corruptible, shall_ come forth _incorruptible_; and graves that
received rottenness and dust, shall return thee glorious stars and suns!
Therefore dare I lay down my carcass in the dust, entrusting it, not to
a grave, but to thee, and _therefore my flesh shall rest in hope_, till
thou shalt raise it to the possession of _everlasting rest. Return, O
Lord, how long? O let thy kingdom come!_ Thy desolate _bride saith,
Come!_ for thy _Spirit_ within her _saith_, Come; and teacheth her thus
to _pray with groanings which cannot be uttered_; yea, _the whole
creation_ saith, Come, _waiting to be delivered from the bondage of
corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God_; thou
thyself hast _said, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, Come Lord
Jesus?_"
§ 28. Thus, reader, I have given thee my best advice for maintaining a
heavenly conversation, If thou canst not thus meditate methodically and
fully, yet do it as thou canst: only be sure to do it seriously and
frequently. Be acquainted with this heavenly work, and thou wilt, in
some degree, be acquainted with God; thy joys will be spiritual,
prevalent, and lasting, according to the nature of their blessed object;
thou wilt have comfort in life and death: When thou hast neither wealth,
nor health, nor the pleasure of this world, yet wilt thou have comfort:
Without the presence, or help of any friend, without a minister, without
a book, when all means are denied thee, or taken from thee, yet mayest
thou have vigorous, real comfort. Thy graces will be mighty, active, and
vigorous; and the daily joy, which is thus fetched from heaven _will be
thy strength_. Thou wilt be as one that stands on the top of an
exceeding high mountain; he looks down on the world as if it were quite
below him; fields and woods, cities and towns, seem to him but little
spots. Thus despicably wilt thou look on all things here below. The
greatest princes will seem but as grashoppers; the busy, contentious,
covetous world, but as a heap of ants. Men's threatenings will be no
terror to thee; nor the honors of this world any strong enticement;
temptations will be more harmless, as having lost their strength; and
afflictions less grievous, as having lost their sting; and every mercy
will be better known, and relished. It is now, under God, in thy own
choice, whether thou wilt live this blessed life or not; and whether all
this pains I have taken for thee shall prosper, or be lost. If it be
lost through thy laziness, thou thyself wilt prove the greatest loser. O
man, what hast thou to mind but God and heaven? Art thou not almost out
of this world already? Dost thou not look every day, when one disease or
other will let out thy soul? Does not _the grave wait to be thine
house_; and worms to feed upon thy face and heart? What if thy pulse
must beat a few strokes more? What if thou hast a little longer to
breathe, before thou breathe out thy last; a few more nights to sleep,
before thou sleepest in the dust? Alas! what will this be, when it is
gone? And is it not almost gone already? Very shortly thou wilt see thy
glass run out, and say to thyself, "My life is done! My time is gone!
'Tis past recalling! There's nothing now but heaven or hell before me!"
Where then should thy heart be now, but in heaven? Didst thou know what
a dreadful thing it is, to have a doubt of heaven when a man is dying it
would rouse thee up. And what else but doubt can that man then do, that
never seriously thought of heaven before?
§ 29. Some there be that say, "It is not worth so much time and trouble,
to think of the greatness of the joys above; so that we can make sure
they are ours; we know they are great." But as these men obey not the
command of God, which requires them to have _their conversation in
heaven_, and to _set their affections on things above_; so they wilfully
make their own lives miserable, by refusing the delights which God hath
set before them. And if this were all, it were a small matter; but see
what abundance of other mischiefs follow the neglect of these heavenly
delights. This neglect—will damp, if not destroy, their love to
God;—will make it unpleasant to them to think or speak of God, or engage
in his service;—it tends to pervert their judgments concerning the ways
and ordinances of God;—it makes them sensual and voluptuous;—it leaves
them under the power of every affliction and temptation, and is a
preparative to total apostasy;—it will also make them fearful and
unwilling to die. For who would go to a God, or a place, he hath no
delight in? Who would leave his pleasure here, if he had not better to
go to? Had I only proposed a course of melancholy and fear, and sorrow,
you might reasonably have objected. But you must have heavenly delights,
or none that are lasting. God is willing you should daily walk with him,
and fetch in consolations from the everlasting fountain; if you are
unwilling, even bear the loss; and when you are dying, seek for comfort
where you can get it, and see whether fleshly delights will remain with
you; then conscience will remember, in spite of you, that you was once
persuaded to a way for more excellent pleasures, pleasures that would
have followed you through death, and have lasted to eternity.
§ 30. As for you, whose hearts God hath weaned from all things here
below, I hope you will value this heavenly life, and take one walk every
day in the new Jerusalem. God is your love, and your desire, you would
fain be more acquainted with your Savior; and I know it is your grief,
that your hearts are not nearer to him, and that they do not more
feelingly love him, and delight in him. O try this life of meditation on
your heavenly rest! Here is the mount, on which the fluctuating ark of
your souls may rest. Let the world see by your heavenly lives that
religion is something more than opinions and disputes, or a task of
outward duties. If ever a Christian is like himself, and answerable to
his principles and profession, it is when he is most serious and lively
in this duty. As Moses before he died, went up unto mount Nebo, to take
a survey of the land of Canaan; so the Christian ascends this mount of
contemplation, and by faith surveys his rest. He looks upon the glorious
mansions, and says, "_Glorious things are_ deservedly _spoken of thee,
thou city of God_!" He hears, as it were, the melody of the heavenly
choir, and says, "_Happy is the people that is in such a case; yea,
happy is that people, whose God is the Lord!_" He looks upon the
glorified inhabitants, and says, "_Happy art thou, O Israel; who is like
unto thee, O people, saved by the Lord, the shield of thy help, and who
is the sword of thine excellency!_" When he looks upon the Lord himself,
who is their glory, he is ready with the rest, to _fall down, and
worship him, that liveth for ever and ever_, and _say, "Holy, holy, holy
Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come! Thou art worthy, O
Lord, to receive glory, and honor, and power!"_ When he looks on the
glorified Savior, he is ready to say, _Amen_, to that _new Song,
"Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon
the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever: For thou wast slain,
and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood, out of every kindred, and
tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us, unto our God, kings
and priests!_" When he looks back on the wilderness of this world, he
blesses the believing, patient, despised saints; he pities the ignorant,
obstinate, miserable world; and for himself, he says, as Peter, "_It is
good to be here_"; or as Asaph, "_It is good for me to draw near to God;
for lo, they that are far from thee, shall perish._" Thus, as Daniel, in
his captivity, daily opened his window toward Jerusalem, though far out
of sight, when he went to God in his devotions; so may the believing
soul, in this captivity of the flesh, look towards _Jerusalem which is
above_: And as Paul was to the Colossians, so may the believer be with
the glorified spirits, _though absent in the flesh, yet with them in the
spirit, joying and beholding their_ heavenly _order_. And as the lark
sweetly sings, while she soars on high, but is suddenly silenced when
she falls to the earth; so is the frame of the soul most delightful and
divine, while it keeps in the views of God by contemplation: Alas, we
make there too short a stay, fall down again, and lay by our music!
§ 31. But, "O thou, the merciful Father of Spirits, the attractive of
love, and ocean of delights, draw up these drossy hearts unto thyself,
and keep them there till they are spiritualized and refined; and second
thy servant's weak endeavors, and persuade those that read these lines
to the practice of this delightful, heavenly work! O suffer not the soul
of thy most unworthy servant to be a stranger to those joys, which he
describes to others; but keep me, while I remain on earth, in daily
breathings after thee, and in a believing, affectionate walking with
thee! And when thou comest, let me be found so doing; not serving my
flesh, nor asleep with my lamp unfurnished; but waiting and longing for
my Lord's return! Let those who shall read these heavenly directions,
not merely read the fruit of my studies; but the breathings of my active
hope and love: That, if my heart were open to their view, they might
there read the same most deeply engraven with a beam from the face of
the Son of God; and not find _vanity_, or _lust_, or _pride_ within,
when the _words of life_ appear without; that so these lines may not
witness against me; but, proceeding from the heart of the _writer_, may
be effectual, through thy grace, upon the heart of the reader, and so be
the savor of life to both! Amen."
_Glory be to God in the highest; on earth peace; good will towards men._