God is within us; when the spirit of religion is the spirit of our
lives; when seated in our hearts, it diffuses itself into all our
motions; when it is the principle of all our thoughts and desires,
the spring of all our hopes and fears; when we like and dislike, seek
and avoid, mourn and rejoice, as becomes those who are born again of
God. And this is the work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts, to give
us a _new understanding_, a _new judgment_, temper, taste, and relish,
new desires, and new hopes and fears. But so far as we nourish any
foolish passion, indulge any vanity of mind or corruption of heart; so
far we _resist the graces_ of God’s Holy Spirit, and render ourselves
_indisposed_ to relish and improve his secret _inspiration_.
XIII. Christians are therefore not only to consider themselves, as men
that are to act by a principle of _reason_, but as spiritual beings
who have a higher principle of life within them, and are to live by
the _wisdom_ and _instructions_ of the Spirit of God.
As reasonable men would do every thing that tended to strengthen or
improve their reason, so Christians ought to practise every thing that
can strengthen or preserve their union with the Spirit of God. For
as a man without reason has but the _figure_ of a man; so a Christian
without the Spirit of God, has but the _form_ of a Christian. Here
therefore we must fix all our care, and concern, that we may remove
all hindrances of divine grace; that we may be truly spiritual in all
our ways and designs, and indulge no tempers that may lessen our union
with the Spirit of God.
XIV. Some persons will perhaps refrain from _grief_, when they find
that it hurts their _eyes_; they will avoid _passion_ and _anger_ if
it ends in pains of the head; but they would do well to consider that
these tempers are to be abstained from, upon much greater accounts.
Passion may disorder our bodies, waste our spirits, and leave pains in
our _heads_; but it leaves greater marks of injury in our better parts,
as it throws us into a state of madness, and _banishes_ the Holy
Spirit of peace, and gentleness, and _prepares_ us for the suggestions
of the spirit of darkness. _Grief_ may hurt our _eyes_, but it much
more hurts our _souls_, as it sinks them into a state of gloom and
darkness, which _expels_ and _quenches_ the Spirit of God; for light
may as well unite with darkness, as the Spirit of God dwell with the
gloomy dulness and horror of stupid grief. What I have observed of
these two passions, ought to be concluded of every other _passion_
and _temper_; we are to consider it as it _suits_ with, or _resists_
that new Spirit, by whose motions we are to be preserved in a state of
holiness.
XV. Now seeing this _newness_ of spirit is the whole of religion; we
must fear and avoid all _irregularity_ of spirit, every _unreasonable
temper_, because it hurts us in our principal part, and makes us _less
capable_ of the graces, and _less obedient_ to the motions of God’s
Holy Spirit. We must labour after a state of peace, and thankfulness,
free from the folly of vain hopes, idle fears, and false anxieties,
that our souls may be disposed to rejoice in the comforts, and advance
in the graces of the Holy Ghost.
XVI. And with what _care_ and _exactness_ we are at all times to
conduct ourselves, is fully set forth in the following words: _Let
no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which
is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the
hearers; and grieve not the Holy Spirit of_ God, _whereby you are
sealed unto the day of redemption.¹_ That we may not here mistake
what is meant by _corrupt communication_, the apostle adds; _but that
which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto
the hearers_. So that it is _a conversation that does not edify_,
and profit the hearers, that the apostle condemns as _corrupt_. And
let it be observed that the apostle does not prohibit this kind of
conversation because it is _useless_, and impertinent; but for a
reason of the utmost consequence, that we may not _grieve the Holy
Spirit of_ God. This shews us that we Christians are to govern
ourselves by no less a rule, than a _conformity_ to the Spirit of
God; that we are not only to deny ourselves vain and foolish actions,
but also idle and unedifying discourse, and conduct ourselves in all
our behaviour, with such a spirit of wisdom and purity as may make
the Holy Ghost _delight_ to dwell in us. Such a wisdom as is not
occasionally exercised in this or that place, or at set times; but is
always in being, and constantly disposing us to thoughts, words and
actions suitable to it.
¹ Ephes. iv. 29.
XVII. A man may be said to have some regard for religion, who is
_regular_ at places of divine worship; but he cannot be reckoned of a
_religious spirit_, till it is his Spirit in every place and on every
occasion, till he lives and breathes by it, and thinks, and speaks,
and acts according to its motions.
A man may frequent _meetings for mirth_; but yet, if when he is out
of them, he gives himself to peevishness, chagrin and dulness, no one
will say such a man is of a _chearful spirit_. It is easy to make the
application: if we are only attendants at _places_ of religion; if
when we are out of those places, we are of another spirit, I don’t
say proud or covetous, but vain and foolish: if our actions are silly,
and our conversation trifling and impertinent, our tempers vain and
worldly, we are no more of a _religious spirit_, than a dull peevish
man is of a _chearful spirit_, because he is regular at some set
meetings for _mirth_.
XVIII. *Religion is not ours till we live by it; till it is the
religion of our thoughts, words and actions; till it goes with us into
every place; sits uppermost on every occasion; and forms and governs
our hopes and fears, our cares and pleasures. He is the religious
man who watches and guards his Spirit, and endeavours to be always
in the temper of religion; who worships God in every place: who is as
fearful of foolish thoughts, irregular tempers, and vain imaginations
at one time as at another; who is as wise and heavenly at _home_, or
in the field, as in the _house of_ God. For when once religion has
got possession of a man’s heart, and is become as it ought to be, his
ruling temper; it is as agreeable to such a one in all places, and
at all times, to speak and act according to its directions, as ’tis
agreeable to the _ambitious_ man, to act according to the motions of
ambition. We must therefore take it for granted, that if we are not
religious in our conversation, or common temper, we are not religious
in our hearts; we may have a _formality_ of religion at certain
_times_ and _places_, but we are not of a _religious spirit_.
XIX. We see every body speaking and conversing according to their
_spirit_ and temper: the covetous, the ambitious, the vain and
self-conceited, have each of them their proper language suitable to
their spirit and temper; they are the _same_ persons in all places,
and always talk like themselves. If therefore we could meet with
persons of a truly religious spirit, we should find them like men of
other tempers, the same persons _in all places_, and always talking
and acting like themselves. We should find them living by one temper,
and conversing with men with the same spirit that they converse with
God; not one thing in one place, and another in another; not formal
and grave at a _funeral_, and mad and frantic at a _feast_; not
listening to wisdom at _church_, and delighting in folly at _home_;
not angry with one foolish thing, and as much pleased at another; but
steady and uniform in the same wise and religious temper.
XX. Farther, as we are not of a _religious spirit_, till it orders all
our conversation; so it is to be observed, that if our conversation
is vain and foolish, it keeps us in a state incapable of religion,
by _grieving_ the _Holy Spirit_. And as we can do nothing without the
Spirit of God, as he is our _breath_, our _life_, our _light_, and our
_strength_; so, if we live in such a way as _grieves_ and _removes_
this Holy Spirit from us, we are as branches that are broke off from
the tree, and must perish in the deadness and corruption of our nature.
Let this therefore teach us to judge rightly of the sin and danger of
_vain, unedifying_ and _corrupt_ communication; it is not the sin of
_idleness_ or _negligence_ only; it is not a _pardonable infirmity_;
it is not a _little mistake_ in spiritual wisdom; but it is a sin
that stands between us and the _tree_ of life; that opposes our whole
happiness, as it _grieves_ and _separates_ the Holy Spirit from us.
Let this also teach some people the reason why they are so _dead_
and _senseless_ of religion: they are not guilty of gross sins; they
have an aversion to _cheating_ and _falseness_; but at the same time
have no more feeling or sense of religion than mere _reprobates_.
Now the reason of it is this; they live in such an _impertinence_ of
conversation; their communication is so constantly upon _silly_ and
_vain_ subjects; and they are so fond of those who have the talent of
conversing in the same manner, that they render themselves _unfit_ for
the residence of the Holy Spirit. We don’t seem to apprehend, either
how much _good_ or how much _evil_ there is in conversation; I believe
it may be affirmed that the greatest instructions, and the greatest
corruptions proceed from it. For mens common conversation and ordinary
life teach much more effectually than any thing they say or do at set
times or occasions.
When a clergyman preaches, he is for the most part considered as doing
that which all clergymen do, whether _good_ or _bad_. But if he is
the same wise and virtuous man in his communication, that he is in the
_pulpit_; if his speech be always _seasoned with salt_, that it may
_minister grace unto the hearers_; if the _common_ actions of his life
be visibly governed by a spirit of piety: such a one will be heard
with reverence on the _Sunday_ for what he says and does all the
week. And on the contrary, if a _clergyman_, when he comes out of
the _pulpit_, is but like other men; as _irregular_ in his tempers;
as _trifling_ in his conversation; as _eager_ in his diversions; and
as _vain_ in his designs; he will mightily lessen his power over the
hearts of his hearers.
A father now and then gives his son virtuous advice, and the son
perhaps would be much the better for it; but that he never hears him
talk virtuously, but when he is giving him advice; this makes him
think, that he is then only acting the part of a _father_; as when
he is buying him _cloaths_, or putting him out to an _employment_.
Whereas if he saw his father’s _ordinary life_ and conversation to
be under the rules of religion; and his every day temper, a temper of
piety; ’tis very likely that he would be won into an imitation of it.
XXI. It is our communication, our _ordinary temper_ and _common life_,
that affects other people, that either hardens them in sin, or awakens
them to a sense of piety. Let therefore all _clergymen_, and _masters_
and _mistresses_ of families look carefully to themselves; let them
consider, that if their _ordinary life_, their communication be _vain,
impertinent_, and _unedifying_, they are not only in a corrupt state
of heart, but are guilty of corrupting and perverting the hearts
of those that belong to them. Let them not think that they have
sufficiently discharged their duty, by seeing that those who relate
to them, have their proper instructions; for it is next to impossible
for such instructions to have their proper effect against the example
of those we converse with. If a _clergyman plays_, and _drinks_, and
_sports_ with his flock in the week days: let him not wonder if he
preaches them asleep on _Sundays_. If a _father_ is _intemperate_; if
he _swears_, and converses _foolishly_ with his friends; let him not
wonder that his children cannot be made virtuous. It is therefore
the necessary duty of all Christians, in all states of life, to look
carefully to their _ordinary behaviour_, that it be not the means
of poisoning and corrupting the hearts of those they converse with.
They must consider, that all the follies and impertinences of their
ordinary life and conversation have the guilt of destroying souls;
and that the blood of those whom their follies have destroyed, will
be required at their hands.
XXII. A mistress whose conversation is a daily proof to her _maids_,
that she is governed by a spirit of piety in all she says and does:
whose life is a continual visible labour to _work out her salvation
with fear and trembling_, is a blessing to all that stand about her.
She communicates happiness even to those who are born of her servants;
they will be educated in piety, because their parents learnt what
piety was in waiting on such a _mistress_.
XXIII. A good-natured, _drinking, sleeping, playing, swearing
master_, is a curse to those who tend upon him; they are led into
all irregularities, by following his steps, and are sent into the
world hardened in follies, and insensible of religion, by having lived
with such a _master_. This ought carefully to be considered by all
Christians, as a mighty encouragement to strictness of behaviour; that
as a _holy_ conversation intitles us to a reward for other peoples
virtues; so an _evil communication_ makes us liable to a punishment
for other mens sins. For we can neither live well nor ill to ourselves
alone; but must of necessity do either good or harm to others by our
manner of conversation. This is one great reason why a vain corrupt
communication does so _grieve_ the Holy Spirit; because it is so
infecting an evil, and does so corrupt the manners of those we
converse with.
CHAP. V.
_THE necessity of divine grace, obligeth all Christians to a constant
purity and holiness of conversation; wherein is shewn the great danger
and impiety of reading vain and impertinent books._
I. I have shewn that the _necessity of divine grace_ is a mighty
argument for an universal exactness of life and conversation. I come
now to speak farther to that remarkable branch of it: _Let no corrupt
communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to
the use of edifying, that it may minister grace to the hearers; and
grieve not the Holy Spirit of_ God, _whereby ye are sealed to the day
of redemption_. Now if we are to let no corrupt communication proceed
out of our mouth, that we may not grieve _the holy Spirit of_ God; it
follows that we are to deny ourselves the entertainment of _corrupt,
impertinent_, and unedifying books. For if vain and idle words are not
to proceed out of our mouths, we must be under the same necessity of
not letting them come into our hearts.
II. If we would know what books are to be avoided as corrupt and
grieving the Holy Spirit, we must look back to the rule of our
communication; for as that communication is there said to be _corrupt_
that does not _edify and minister grace_ to the hearers; so must
we look upon all those books as corrupt, which do not _edify_ and
_minister grace_ to the readers. Now this book-entertainment is as
certainly forbidden by the apostle, as cheating is forbidden by the
_eighth_ commandment: for if I am not to say foolish and impertinent
things myself, because such a communication _grieves_ the Holy
Spirit of God; I am as certainly forbid the reading the corrupt and
impertinent sayings of other people.
The books which mostly corrupt our hearts, and fill us with a spirit
of folly, are such as almost all the world allow themselves to
read; I mean books of _wit_ and _humour, romances, plays_, and other
productions of the _poets_. Thus a _grave orthodox_ old gentleman,
if he hears that his _niece_ is very good, and delights in reading,
will fill her closet with volumes of _plays_ and _poems_ on _several
occasions_, on purpose to encourage her to spend her time well.
There is not perhaps a more surprising infatuation in the conduct of
Christians, than this.
III. There is a proper time for every thing that is lawful to be done:
now, can you tell when it is proper for a Christian to meditate upon
these books?
There is a time when our hearts are more than ordinarily raised
towards God; when we feel the joys and comforts of religion, and enjoy
a peace that passes all understanding. Now I suppose reason will not
allot this time for the diversion of such books.
There is a time, when either thro’ the neglect of duty, remorse of
mind, worldly vexations, bodily tempers, or the absence of God’s
Spirit, we sink into dejection and dulness, grow burthensome to
ourselves, and can hardly think of any thing with satisfaction. Now
if reason is to judge, this is of all times the most improper for such
entertainment. For if there is any time more proper than another to
think upon God, ’tis when we are _in heaviness_.
When we are _sick_ it is time to fly to the _physician_; when we
are _weary_, it is a proper time to _rest_: now there is the same
fitness in having recourse to God and religion, when we are under any
dejection of mind. For it is not more the sole property of light to
dispel darkness, than it is the sole property of religion to relieve
all uneasiness. _Is any one afflicted_, says the apostle, _let him
pray_. Now this we are to look upon, not only as a wise advice of
something that is very good to be done; but as a strict command that
leaves no choice of doing any thing in the stead of it.
It is as absolute a command as if he had said, _Hath any one sinned,
let him repent_. For an application to God is as much the one thing to
be done in the hour of trouble, as repentance is the one thing to be
done in time of sin.
IV. You seem to make times of dulness the occasion of reading those
books, by saying that you only read them to _divert_ your spirits.
But that which you take to be a reason for reading them, is a strong
objection against it. For it is never so improper to read those books,
as when you want to have your spirits raised, or your mind made easy
to itself. For it is the highest abuse you can put upon yourself,
to look for ease and quiet in any thing, but in right apprehensions
of God’s providence. And it is a sin against the _whole nature_ of
religion, not to make it the whole measure and reason of all your
peace and enjoyment in every occurrence of life.
If you must amuse yourself with a volume of _plays_, because you are
laid up with a _broken leg_, or have _lost a friend_, you are as far
from wisdom as a child that is to be made quiet with _a rattle_, and
as far from religion as those who worship _idols_; nay, to seek to
such things for relief and refreshment, is like applying to the devil
_in distress_. A man that drinks _drams_ every time he is dull or
uneasy, is a _wise, prudent_, and _sober_ man, if compared to the
Christian that in seasons of dejection has recourse to _wanton_ wit,
and _prophane_ rant: he destroys the purity of his mind much more
effectually, than the other destroys the health of his body.
Do you think that in _great distresses_, it is proper to seek comfort
in God; but that in _little troubles_, any thing that can divert is as
well? Nay, surely if God is our sufficient comfort in great distresses,
he must be our best relief in those that are smaller. Unless it can be
said, that the truths of religion are able to make us bear martyrdom
with content, but not great enough to make us easy in _little_ trials.
V. Besides, to seek for relief in foolish books, is not only applying
to a false remedy, but is also destroying the chief power of religion.
For as religion has no power over us but as it is our happiness;
so far as we neglect, or refuse to make use of its comforts, so
far we destroy its power over us. For it can no otherwise be the
ordinary care of our lives, than by being our ordinary happiness and
consolation in all the changes of life. A Christian therefore is to
make his Christianity his comfort, not only in times of _great trial_
and sufferings, but in all the _lesser vexations_ of life, that
by this means every little occasion of grief or disquiet may be an
occasion of his being more affected with religion, and more sensible
of its true comforts.
VI. On the contrary, if _men_ will make themselves happy as children
are made happy, not by considering the nature of things, but by a
_change of amusements_, they must also expect to have the vexations of
children, and be, like them, laughing and crying at they know not what,
all the days of their life: for children are only easily vexed because
they are easily pleased; and it is certain that they who can be
pleased with things of no value must in the same degree be liable to
be displeased at them. And as this is the true state of childhood: so
whosoever is in this state, whatever his _age_ may be, his _office_,
or his _dignity_ in life, is yet as truly in the state and folly of
childhood, as he that is but four years old. Take an instance or two:
a child whose heart is half broken at some misfortune, may perhaps be
made easy with a picture of a _huntsman_ and a _pack of hounds_; but
if you would comfort the father that grieves for his eldest son, the
_hounds_ must all be _alive_; they must _cry_, and _run_, and follow
a _hare_; and this will make the father as easy as the picture did the
child.
A mother comforts her little girl with a _pack of cards_ that are
finely _painted_: by and by she wants to be comforted herself: some
great calamity has happened to her. Now you must not think to comfort
her with _painted cards_, or building houses with them; her grief is
too great, and she has been too long a _mother_ to be pleased with
such things. It is only _serious ombre_ that can dry her eyes, and
remove sorrow from her heart.
VII. I might easily multiply instances of this kind; but these are
sufficient to shew us, that persons of _age_ and _authority_ often
differ only from children, as one child may differ from another. This
is the true reason why human life is so full of complaint; why it is
such a _mixture_ of ridiculous pleasures, and vain disquiets, namely,
because we live in an entire ignorance of the nature of things, never
considering why we are pleased with this, or displeased with that,
nor any more appeal to religion to direct our judgments, than children
appeal to reason to form their tempers. For if we will only play, or
lull ourselves into repose, as children are rocked to sleep, it is not
to be wondered at, if like them we _cry_ as soon as we are awake: and
the reason why people, _seemingly_ religious, are subject to the same
_dulness_ and _peevishness_, to the same _vexations_ and variety of
griefs that other people are, is this, because they make no more use
of their religion on those occasions, than other people: they don’t so
much as intend to keep themselves _easy, thankful_ and _chearful_, by
making religion the _measure_ and _standard_ of all their thoughts and
judgments, in all the common chances of life, any more than those do,
who have no thoughts about religion.
VIII. Suppose a person had _lame_ feet, and _bad_ eyes, and that he
had an _oil_, that was an infallible cure for them both, when applied
to both; if you saw him only using it for his _eyes_, you would not
wonder that it had not cured his _feet_; you would know that his
anointing his _eyes_ could only cure his _eyes_; and that there was
no ground to expect that his _feet_ should be any better, till he
anointed his _feet_: and all this for this plain reason, because
things, however good in themselves, can have no farther effect than
as they are applied. Now it is just thus in religion. If a man places
it only in _public worship_, he attends public worship; it operates
so far. But why must you wonder, that he is not of a _wise, virtuous_,
and _religious_ temper, in all the actions of his ordinary life? Is
not this wondering why the _oil_ has not cured a man’s _feet_, when he
has never applied it to them, but only to his _eyes_?