when we are to sleep. We may let them teach us, how near we may draw
to a _fire_, how great a _burden_ we may carry, or into how deep a
_water_ we may go. In these things they are our proper guides.
But if we appeal to them to know the _true good_ of man, or the proper
happiness of our rational nature; if we ask them what _guilt_ there is
in sin, or what _excellence_ there is in piety; if we consult them as
guides in these matters, we act full as absurdly as if we were to try
to _hear_ with our _eyes_, or to _see_ with our _ears_.
XXVIII. *While we forget this, all our judgments of things are
corrupted by the grossness and errors of our senses.
We judge of every thing in the same manner as the child judges of his
_play things_. It is by our _senses_ alone we pass the judgment, tho’
we think we act with the _reason of man_.
The world is made up of _fine sights_, sports, shew and pageantry,
which please and captivate the minds of men, because men have still
the minds of children, and are just the same slaves to their senses
that children are.
As children and men see the same _colours_ in things, so children
and men feel the same sensible pleasures, and are affected with
external objects in the same manner.
But the misfortune is, that we laugh at the _little_ pleasures, _poor_
designs, and _trifling_ satisfactions of children; while at the same
time the _wisdom_ and _greatness_ of men, is visibly taken up with the
_same trifles_.
A _coach_ and _six_ and an _embroidered suit_, shall make a great
_statesman_ as happy, as ever a _go-cart_ and _feather_ made a child.
Ask a child, what he thinks he would do with a great sum of money? Why,
he would buy twenty _little horses_, he would have twenty _fine coats_,
see all _fine sights_, and the like.
Now promise but a man a great estate, and you will raise all these
same thoughts and designs in his mind.
And whence is this, but from hence, that men act with the same
_vanity_ of mind, are under the same _poor guidance_ of their senses,
are as ignorant of their _true happiness_, as great strangers to their
own nature, as when they first set out in life.
And is not this a plain reason for self-denial? For to indulge
ourselves in our _natural tempers_, is to grow old in the follies of
_childhood_.
XXIX. *Let us take another view of the disorder of our nature, that we
may see a still greater necessity of not walking according to it.
When we see people _drunk_, or in a violent passion, we own they are
so long in a state of delusion, thinking, saying, and doing irregular
things, by the mere force of their blood and spirits. Here we all
see the power of our bodies over our reason; and never suppose a
man capable of judging or acting wisely, so long as he is under the
violence of _passion_, or heated by _drink_.
Now this is more or less the constant, _natural_ state of all mankind;
who are by bodily impressions, and the agitations of the blood and
spirits, in the same kind of _delusion_, as men that are _drunk_, or
in a _passion_, tho’ not always in the same degree.
Sometimes the disorder is more _violent_ than at others. But it never
ceases. Men are always in some _passion_ or other; and this, even when
it is not to that degree, as to be visible to others, yet occasions
the same weakness of mind, the same disordered imagination, and the
same wrong apprehension of the nature of things.
A _silent envy_, a _secret vanity_, which no body sees, disorders our
judgments in the same manner as more _violent_ passions.
You may increase the _vanity_ or _envy_, till it end in distraction,
as it sometimes happens. But then you may be sure, it disordered our
understanding in some degree, long before it came to madness. All men
therefore while, in a natural state, resemble those who are drunk, or
in a violent passion; having some passion or other that affects their
spirits and disorders their judgment, in the same manner tho’ not in
the same degree.
XXX. *Another circumstance of drunkenness is this, that it gives us
a taste peculiar to it, so as to leave a dulness and indisposition
towards any thing else. An habitual drunkard has no pleasure like
that confused heat of thoughts that arises from inflamed blood. The
repeating this so often has given him a turn of mind that relishes
nothing but what relates to intemperance.
Now this is naturally the state of all people, in some respect or
other. There is something has got hold of them, and given them a taste
for it, in the same manner that drinking has formed the taste of a
drunkard. All people are not intemperate; but all are under some habit
that affects the mind in the same manner as intemperance.
Some people have indulged themselves so long in _dressing_, others
in _play_, others in _sports_ of the field, others only in little
_gossiping stories_, that they are as much slaves to these, as the
intemperate man to liquor.
Now we readily own, that a man who has enslaved himself to drinking,
has thereby rendered himself incapable of being a _reasonable judge_
of other happiness; but then we do not enough consider, that we are
hurt in the same manner by any thing else that has taken hold of us,
and given us a temper and turn of mind peculiar to it.
It is to as little purpose to talk of the happiness of religion, to
one that is fond of _dress_, or _play_ or _sports_, as to a drunkard;
for the pleasures of these particular kinds, make him as deaf to all
either proposals of happiness, and as incapable of judging of them.
*A lady abominates a _sot_, as a creature that has only the shape of
a man: but then she does not consider, that perhaps, drunken as he is,
he can be more content with the want of _liquor_, than she can with
the want of _fine cloaths_. And if this be her case, she only differs
from him, as one intemperate man differs from another.
Thus it appears, whether we consider the nature, circumstances or
effects of drunkenness, that all mankind are more or less in the same
state of weakness and disorder.
Hence also appears the absolute necessity of denying our natural
tempers and inclinations, and giving ourselves up without reserve
to the light and wisdom of God; since by our natural corruption
and slavery to the body, we are always under the power of its blind
motions, and since all our inclinations and judgments, are only the
judgments of heated blood, drunken spirits and disordered passions.
XXXI. Every one sees people in the world, whom he takes to be
incapable of _sober_ judgments and _wise_ reflections, because he sees
they are full of themselves, blinded with prejudices, violent in their
passions, wild and extravagant in their imaginations.
Now when we see these, we should reflect that we see ourselves; for we
as certainly see a _true representation_ of ourselves, when we look at
such people, as we see a true picture of our state when we see a man
in the agonies of death.
You are not _dying_ as this man is; but still he shews you your own
_true picture_. He shews you that your life is in the midst of death,
that you have in you the seeds of sickness and mortality, and that
you are only at a _little uncertain distance_ from those who are lying
upon their last beds.
In like manner, you are not, it may be, in the same height of passion
that another man is. You are at _some uncertain distance_ from his
state. But if you fancy you are not corrupted with self-love, not
weakened by prejudices, not vain in your imaginations, not disordered
in your tempers, because you are not in that _extremity_ of disorder
wherein some other people are; you think as absurdly, as if you
imagined yourself to be immortal, because you are not in the _agonies_
of death.
When therefore you see the violence of other mens passions, the folly
of their tempers, and vanity of their minds, remember that you see so
many plain reasons for denying yourself, and resisting your own nature,
which has in it the seeds of all the same evil tempers.
XXXII. From all this we may learn, (as was observed above) that
abstinence as to eating and drinking, is but a small part of Christian
self-denial: it being full as dangerous to indulge any evil temper, as
to live in gluttony and intemperance.
*You think it shameful to be an _epicure_, or to be fond of _liquor_.
You are very right: but then proceed a step further, and think it as
shameful to be fond of _dress_, or delighted with _yourself_, or to
be fond of _dainties_: and that it is as great a sin, to please any
corrupt _temper_, as to please your _palate_. Remember, that blood
heated with any _passion_, is like blood heated with _liquor_, and
that the grossness of gluttony is no greater a contrariety to religion,
than the politeness of pride or vanity.
I have been the longer on this subject, trying to represent the
weakness and corruption of our nature, because so far only as we
see this, can we see the necessity of denying ourselves. This would
be needless, if we were wise and good; but if we see that our whole
nature is in a disorder, that our light is darkness, our wisdom
foolishness, our judgments as gross and blind as our appetites; that
our senses govern us as they govern children; that our hearts are
taken up with _gewgaws_ and trifles; that the state of our souls is
a state of error and delusion, like that of drunkenness and passion.
If we see ourselves in this true light, we shall see the great reason
of Christian self-denial, of renouncing our whole selves, that we may
see all things in God; that our hearts may be moved by a motion from
him, and our wills and inclinations wholly directed by the light and
wisdom of his Spirit.
CHAP. IV.
_THE necessity of divine grace, another general ground of
self-denial._
I. I come now to another great doctrine of our religion, namely, the
_absolute necessity of divine grace_: which is another constant reason
for universal _self-denial_.
The invisible assistance of God’s Spirit, by which we are disposed
to that which is good, and made able to perform it, is a confessed
doctrine of Christianity.
Our natural life is preserved by some union with God, who is the
fountain of life to all the creation; to which union we are altogether
strangers. We find that we are alive; but how or by what influence
from God our life is supported, is a secret into which we cannot enter.
It is the same thing with relation to our spiritual life; it arises
from some _invisible union_ with God, or divine influence, which in
this state we cannot comprehend. Our blessed Saviour saith: _The wind
bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but
canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one
that is born of the Spirit.¹_ This shews us how ignorant we are of the
_manner_ of the operations of the Holy Spirit. We may feel its effects,
as we may perceive the effects of the wind, but are as much strangers
to the _manner_ of its coming upon us, as we are to that _exact point_,
from whence the wind begins to blow, or where it will cease.
¹ John iii. 8.
II. The Spirit of God is like the nature of God, too high for our
conceptions, whilst we are in these dark houses of clay. But our
blessed Saviour has in some degree helped our conceptions by the
manner of his giving the Holy Spirit to the disciples; _and he
breathed on them, and said unto them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost_.
By this we are taught to conceive of the communications of the Holy
Spirit, with some likeness to breath, or wind; that its influences
come upon us in some _manner_, like to a gentle breathing of the air.
Representations of this kind are only made in compliance with the
weakness of our apprehensions; which, not being able to conceive
things as they are in their own nature, must be instructed, by
comparing them to such things as our senses are acquainted with.
Thus the _wisdom_ and _knowledge_, that is revealed from God, is
compared to _light_; not because light is a true representation of
the wisdom of God; but because it serves best to represent it to our
low capacities. In like manner, the _influences_ of the Holy Spirit,
are set forth by _breathing_ upon us; not because _breath_, or _air_,
or _wind_, are true representations of the gifts of the Spirit, but
because they are the properest representations that as yet fall within
our knowledge.
III. But that which is most necessary for us to know, and of which we
are sufficiently informed in scripture, is the _absolute necessity_ of
this divine assistance.
We are used to consider those only as _inspired_ persons, who are
called by God to some _extraordinary_ designs. In this sense there
have been but few inspired persons; but inspiration, as it signifies
an _invisible operation_, or _assistance_ of God’s Holy Spirit, is
the privilege of all Christians: in this sense they are all _inspired
persons. Know ye not_, saith St. _Paul_, _that your body is the temple
of the Holy Ghost, which is in you?_ St. _John_ likewise, _Hereby know
we that he dwelleth in us, by the Spirit, which he hath given us. For
as many as are led by the Spirit of_ God, _are the Sons of_ God, _and
if any man hath not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.¹_ From
these, and many other passages it is plain, that the life which we now
live, is a life in and by the Spirit of God; and that they are only
Sons of God, who are led by this Spirit. Now this doctrine plainly
proves the necessity of a constant self-denial; for it must be
necessary that we deny ourselves all those tempers, and ways of life,
which may make God _withhold_ his grace from us; and likewise all
those enjoyments and indulgences, which may make us _less able_ and
_less disposed_ to improve and co-operate with those degrees of divine
grace that are communicated to us.
¹ Rom. viii. 11.
IV. And seeing we are none of Christ’s, if the Spirit of Christ be not
in us; seeing we are only so far Christians, as we are renewed by the
Holy Ghost; nothing can be more necessary than that we consider all
our _tempers_, pleasures, cares, designs and ways of life, whether
they be such as _suit_ with the wisdom and heavenly guidance of the
Holy Spirit. This doctrine shews us to ourselves in a _new point_
of view, and may serve to teach us several truths, which we should
otherwise not so readily apprehend.
When we are left to consider our duty with relation to the express
commandments of God, there are many ways of life, which we think
ourselves at liberty to follow, because they seem to be no plain
breach of any express commandment. But we are to look to a farther
rule, and to consider our pleasures and cares, our designs and
endeavours, not only whether they are contrary to the letter of the
law, but whether they are according to the Spirit of God; for if they
are contrary to the Spirit of God, they are as truly to be avoided, as
if they were contrary to some express commandment. For we are assured
by scripture, that they only are the Sons of God, _who are led by the
Spirit of_ God; and none can be said to be led by the Spirit of God,
but they whose lives are according to it, whose actions, cares, and
pleasures, hopes and fears, are such as may be said to be guided by
the Holy Ghost.
V. We are therefore to consider ourselves as _inspired persons_, that
have no knowledge or wisdom, but what comes from God; and this wisdom
will no longer dwell with us, than we act conformably thereto. So
that we must not deceive ourselves in saying, where is the harm of
such _indulgences_, or such _vanities_ and idle _amusements_? But must
consider, whether they are such as are conformable to a life that is
to be directed by the Holy Ghost. In this manner must we examine all
our ways of life, as well our cares as our pleasures. For unreasonable
cares, and unreasonable pleasures, are equally contrary to the wisdom
of the Holy Spirit, and equally separate us from him. People often
think their designs and diversions innocent, because they are not
_sinful_ in their nature. But they should also consider, whether they
are not _vain_ and _foolish_, and _unsuitable_ to the condition of a
Christian. For a life of _folly_ and _vanity_, and _trifling designs_,
is no more living by the _Spirit of_ God, than a life of _gross sins_
is keeping the _commandments_. So that the safest rule to judge of our
actions by, is to consider them with relation to that Spirit, by which
we are to be guided. Is this design or this diversion according to the
wisdom of the Spirit of God? Am I in these things improving the secret
inspiration of the Holy Ghost? Am I here governed by a wisdom from
above? Are these ways such as I can truly say, that I am led into them
by the Spirit of God? Do I allow myself in them, because they serve
to set forth the glory of God? Are they good proofs that the Spirit of
God dwelleth in me; and that by thus sowing to the Spirit, I shall of
the Spirit reap everlasting life? This is the rule by which Christians
are to regulate their thoughts, words, and actions; for we are called
by God to act by the motions of his Holy Spirit, and to make no other
use of ourselves, or the world we are in, than such as is conformable
to that dignity of life and state of glory to which we are called. The
Spirit of our religion is to be the spirit of our lives, the constant
principle of all our tempers and inclinations, which is to render us
reasonable, and wise and holy in all our progress through the world.
VI. *’Tis acknowledged by all, that a life of _intemperance_ and
_debauchery_, makes us dead and senseless of religion: but then it is
not enough considered that the _vanity_ of the mind, an understanding
busied in _trifles_, an _impertinent course of life_, will as
certainly produce the _same effect_. If our understanding is full of
foolish imaginations, if we are devoted to trifles, religion can gain
no entrance. A man may be so earnest in _picking straws_, as to have
no leisure to think of his salvation; nor any more inclination to it,
than one that is constantly in _drink_.
Thus poor _amusements_, vain _arts_, useless _sciences_, impertinent
_learning_, false _satisfaction_, a wrong turn _of mind_, a state
of _idleness_, or any the vainest _trifles_ of life, may keep men
at as great a distance from true religion, as the debaucheries of
intemperance.
VII. *_Titius_ is temperate and regular: but then he is so great a
_mathematician_, that he does not know when Sunday comes: he sees
people going to _church_ as he sees others going to _market_; he goes
on studying, measuring, and calculating, and may as well be called a
_merchant_ as a _Christian_.
All doctrines of religion are disagreeable to _Philo_; he avoids them
as he avoids _party_: now what is the reason of it? It is not because
he is _debauched_ and _intemperate_. But he is a _virtuoso_, devoted
to polite _literature_. His soul is extended to all the _curiosities_
in the world, and thinks all time to be lost that is not spent in
the search of _shells, urns, inscriptions_, and _broken pieces of
pavements_. This makes the concerns of _eternity_ seem small things in
his eyes, fit only for the enquiry of _narrow, little_, and _unpolite_
souls.
_Eusebius_ would read prayers _twice_ a day in his _parish_; he would
be often with the poor and sick, and spend much time in charitable
visits; he would be wholly taken up with the _care_ of souls, but
that he is busy in studying the _old grammarians_, and would fain
_reconcile_ some differences amongst them before he dies.
VIII. _Lycia_ might be pious; but that she is too _easy, gay_, and
_chearful_, to admit of care of any kind. She can no more _repent_,
than she can be _out of temper_, and must be the same _sparkling,
chearful_ creature in the _church_, as in the _play-house_. She
might be capable of understanding the misery of human nature, and the
necessity of the comforts of religion; but that she is so happy every
time she is _dressed_.
_Matrona_ is old, and has been these _fifty years_ eating and drinking,
sleeping and waking, dressing and undressing, _paying_ and _receiving
visits_. She has no prophaneness; and, if she has no piety, it is
owing to this, that she never had a _spare half-hour_ to think about
it. She envies her daughters, because they will _dress_ and _visit_
when she is dead.
*_Publius_ goes to _church_ sometimes, and reads the scripture; but
he knows not what he reads or prays, his head is so full of politics.
He is so angry at _Kings_ and Ministers of State, that he has no time
or disposition to call himself to account. He has the history of all
_parliaments, elections, prosecutions_, and _impeachments_, and dies
with little or no religion, through a constant fear of popery.
_Siccus_ has been all his life long _building_ and _ pulling down_,
making _canals_ and _ditches_, raising _walls_ and _fences_. People
call him a good man, because he employs the poor: _Siccus_ might have
been a _religious_ man, but that he thought _building_ was the chief
happiness of a rational creature. He is all the week amongst _dirt_
and _mortar_, and stays at home on _Sundays_ to view his contrivances.
He will die more contentedly, if his death does not happen whilst some
_wall_ is in building.
IX. I have mentioned these several _characters_ to shew, that it
is not only _prophaneness, debauchery_, and _open vices_, that
keep men from the impressions of true religion; but that the mere
_play-things_ of life, impertinent _studies_, vain _amusements_, false
_satisfactions_, idle _dispositions_, will produce the same effect.
A _wrong_ turn of mind, _impertinent cares_, a succession of the
_poorest trifles_, if they take up our thoughts, leave no more room
for true piety than gross sensuality.
X. We see even in worldly matters, that if we propose any thing to
a man, when he is in the pursuit of something else, he hardly hears
or understands us; we must stay for a season of more leisure and
indifference, till his thoughts and passions are at rest.
Now this holds much stronger in matters of religion. Its doctrines
are neither heard nor understood, because it always finds us in the
pursuit of _something else_. It matters not what this _something else_
is; the mind is equally employed wrong, and so not in a condition to
like, or at leisure to listen to any other happiness. If you were to
propose the same truths to a man in another state, when weariness or
disappointment has made him give up all designs, or when sickness or
the approach of death shews him that he must act no longer in them,
they would have quite another effect upon him; then the great things
of religion appear great indeed. He _feels_ their whole weight, and
is amazed he did not see them always in the same manner. Now it is the
great end and design of _self-denial_ to put a stop to the follies of
life, that our souls may quietly consider, and fully comprehend the
truths which come from God; that our hearts being at liberty from a
croud of foolish thoughts, may be ready to obey and co-operate with
the _inspirations_ of that Spirit, which is to lead and quicken us in
all holiness; that _death_ and _judgment_, _heaven_ and _hell_, may
make as deep impressions upon our minds in the middle of our lives,
as at our last hour; that we may be as wise and prudent as _sick_
and _dying_ men, and live with such apprehensions as most people die
with; that we may see the vanity of the world, the misery of sin, the
greatness of eternity, and the want of God, as they see it who stand
upon the brink of another world.
XI. This is the great and happy work of self-denial, to awaken us into
a true knowledge of ourselves, and shew us who, and where, and what we
are. Till then our life is but a _sleep_, a _dream_, a mere succession
of shadows; and we act with as little reason as a child that is
pleased with blowing about a _feather_. We must therefore not only
deny our wicked inclinations, but also all our follies, impertinences,
and vain satisfactions: for, as plain and known sins harden and
corrupt, so impertinences and vain satisfactions delude and blind
our hearts, and render them insensible of our real misery, or true
happiness.