The Works of the Rev. Hugh Binning
by Hugh Binning
Edition 1, (January 10, 2008)
CONTENTS
Notanda.
Preface by the Editor.
The Life of Mr. Hugh Binning.
The Common Principles of the Christian Religion, Clearly Proved, and
Singularly Improved; Or, A Practical Catechism.
Original Preface.
God’s Glory the Chief End of Man’s Being
Union And Communion With God The End And Design Of The Gospel
The Authority And Utility Of The Scriptures
The Scriptures Reveal Eternal Life Through Jesus Christ
Of The Scriptures
What The Scriptures Principally Teach: The Ruin And Recovery Of Man.
Faith And Love Towards Christ.
Of The Name Of God
The Eternity And Unchangeableness Of God.
What God Is To Us.
What God Is
The Knowledge That God Is, Combined With The Knowledge That He Is To Be
Worshipped.
The Unity Of The Divine Essence, And The Trinity Of Persons.
Of The Unity Of The Godhead And The Trinity Of Persons
Of The Decrees Of God.
Of Predestination
Of Predestination
Of Creation
Of Creation
Of The Creation 0f Man
God’s Works Of Providence
Of The First Covenant Made With Man
Of The First Covenant.
Of The State Wherein Man Was Created, And How The Image Of God Is
Defaced.
Of Sin By Imputation And Propagation.
Of The Way Of Man’s Delivery.
The Sinner’s Sanctuary, Or, A Discovery Made Of Those Glorious Privileges
Offered Unto The Penitent And Faithful Under The Gospel: Unfolding Their
Freedom From Death, Condemnation, And The Law, In Forty Sermons On The
Eighth Chapter Of The Epistle To The Romans.
The Preface.
Sermon I.
Sermon II.
Sermon III.
Sermon IV.
Sermon V.
Sermon VI.
Sermon VII.
Sermon VIII.
Sermon IX.
Sermon X.
Sermon XI.
Sermon XII.
Sermon XIII.
Sermon XIV.
Sermon XV.
Sermon XVI.
Sermon XVII.
Sermon XVIII.
Sermon XIX.
Sermon XX.
Sermon XXI.
Sermon XXII.
Sermon XXIII.
Sermon XXIV.
Sermon XXV.
Sermon XXVI.
Sermon XXVII.
Sermon XXVIII.
Sermon XXIX.
Sermon XXX.
Sermon XXXI.
Sermon XXXII.
Sermon XXXIII.
Sermon XXXIV.
Sermon XXXV.
Sermon XXXVI.
Sermon XXXVII.
Sermon XXXVIII.
Sermon XXXIX.
Sermon XL.
Fellowship With God
Preface.
Sermon I.
Sermon II.
Sermon III.
Sermon IV.
Sermon V.
Sermon VI.
Sermon VII.
Sermon VIII.
Sermon IX.
Sermon X.
Sermon XI.
Sermon XII.
Sermon XIII.
Sermon XIV.
Sermon XV.
Sermon XVI.
Sermon XVII.
Sermon XVIII.
Sermon XIX.
Sermon XX.
Sermon XXI.
Sermon XXII.
Sermon XXIII.
Sermon XXIV.
Sermon XXV.
Sermon XXVI.
Sermon XXVII.
Sermon XXVIII.
Heart-Humiliation
To The Reader.
Sermon I.
Sermon II.
Sermon III.
Sermon IV.
Sermon V.
Sermon VI.
Sermon VII.
Sermon VIII.
Sermon IX.
Sermon X.
Sermon XI.
Sermon XII.
Sermon XIII.
Sermon XIV.
Sermon XV.
Sermon XVI.
Sermon XVII.
Sermon XVIII.
An Useful Case Of Conscience
That There Is A Malignant Party Still In The Kingdom.
That The Present Public Resolutions, Expressed In The Commission’s
Answer To The Parliament’s Query, And The Act Of The Levy, Do Not
Exclude That Party.
That The Employing Of, And Associating With The Malignant Party,
According As Is Contained In The Public Resolutions, Is Sinful And
Unlawful.
That It Is Not Lawful For The Well Affected Subjects To Concur In Such
An Engagement In War, And Associate With The Malignant Party.
Scriptures Showing The Sin And Danger Of Joining With Wicked And
Ungodly Men.
A Treatise Of Christian Love.
To The Reader.
Chapter I.
Chapter II.
Chapter III.
Chapter IV.
Chapter V.
Several Sermons Upon The Most Important Subjects Of Practical Religion.
The Publisher To The Reader.
Sermon I.
Sermon II.
Sermon III.
Sermon IV.
Sermon V.
Sermon VI.
Sermon VII.
Sermon VIII.
Sermon IX.
Sermon X.
Sermon XI.
Sermon XII.
Sermon XIII.
Sermon XIV.
Sermon XV.
Sermon XVI.
Sermon XVII.
Sermon XVIII.
Sermon XIX.
Sermon XX.
Sermon XXI.
Sermon XXII.
Footnotes
The Works Of
The Rev. Hugh Binning, M.A.,
One of the Regents in the University of Glasgow,
And Afterwards
Minister of Govan
Collected and Edited
by
The Rev. M. Leishman, D.D.,
Minister of the Parish of Govan
NOTANDA.
The following Notes, by the Editor, ought to have been inserted at the
foot of their respective pages.
Page 1, line 25
Nulla est tam facilis res, quin difficilis siet, Quam invitus
facias—_Terent. Heaut._ iv, vi. 1
“There is nothing so easy, as not to become difficult should you do it
unwillingly.”
P. 1, l. 35. Nam illud verum est M. Catonis oraculum, nihil agendo,
homines male agere discunt. “For that is a true oracle of M. Cato—by doing
nothing, men learn to do ill.”—_Columel._ lib. xi, cap. 1.
P. 5, last line. Ει γουν αηδων ημην, εποιουν τα της αηδονος, ει κυκνος, τα
του κυκνου, νυν δε λογικος ειμι, ὑμνειν με δει τον θεον. “Were I a
nightingale, I would perform the office of a nightingale, or a swan, that
of a swan; but since I am a rational creature, it is right that I should
celebrate the praises of God.”—_Epictet. Dissert._ lib. i, cap. 16.
P. 7, l. 53. Quidam vivere tunc incipiunt, cum desinendum est. Si hoc
judicas mirum, adjiciam quod magis admireris, quidam ante vivere
defecerunt, quam inciperent. “Some then begin to live when they are near
the close of life. If you think this wonderful, I will add what you will
wonder at still more, some have ceased to live before they have begun to
live.”—_Senec. Epist._ xxiii.
P. 9, l. 18. Cicero represents the saying— _Amicorum omnia communia_
(Friends have all things in common)—to be a Greek proverb—_De Offic._ lib.
i, cap. xvi.
P. 12, l. 50. Ubi in contrarium ducit, ipsa velocitas majoris intervalli
causa fit. “When it leads to an opposite direction, velocity becomes
itself the cause of a wider separation.”—_Senec. De Vita Beata_, cap. i.
P. 13. l. 7. At hic, tritissima quæque via, et celeberrima, maxime
decipit. “But here, every path that is most beaten, and most famous,
deceives most.”—_Ibid._
P. 13. l. 16.—pergentes, non qua eundum est, sed qua itur—“proceeding, not
where we ought to go, but where others go.”_—Ibid._
P. 15, l. 30.
Aut prodesse volunt, aut delectare—_Hor. Ars Poet._, v. 333.
“They wish either to improve or delight.”
P. 16, l. 6.
Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci—_Id._, v. 343.
“Profit and pleasure them to mix with art
Shall gain all votes.”—_Francis Translation_
P. 37, l. 4.
Pluris est oculatus testis unus quam auriti decem
Qui audiunt audita dicunt, qui vident plane sciunt—_Plaut. Trucul._ ii.
vi. 8.
“One eye witness is worth more than ten witnesses who speak by hearsay.
They who hear tell what they hear, they who see have a perfect knowledge
of what occurs.”
P. 37, l. 50. The title πολυωνυμος (distinguished by many names) was
often applied by the Greeks to the principal object of their idolatrous
worship. Cleanthes begins his Hymn to Jove in this way,—
κυδιστ᾽ αθανατων πολυωνυμε
“Most illustrious of the immortals, having many names”
The Ethiopians believed that there was one God, who was the cause of all
things, but they also reverenced another God, whom they supposed to be
inferior to him, and to have _no name_ (ανωνυμον)—;_Strab. Geog._ lib.
xvii, p. 822.
P. 37, l. 52 Quid est Deus? Quod vides totum, et quod non vides totum.
“What is God? Every thing which you see, and every thing which you do not
see.”—_Senec. Nat. Quest._, lib. i.
P. 38, l. 15 The author of the Asclepian Dialogue, uses _unus omnia_
(one-all things) and _Creator omnium_ (the Creator of all things,) as
equivalent expressions—_Cudworth’s Intellectual System_, vol. i. p. 346.
P. 55, l. 44 God was represented by some of the ancient philosophers to
be “the soul of the world, and the soul of the souls of the world.”
P. 79, l. 4, and 8
Prudens futuri temporis exitum
Caliginosa nocte premit Deus,
Ridetque, si mortalis ultra
Fas trepidat—_Hor. Carm._ lib. iii. Ode 29.
"Future events wise Providence
Hath hid in night from human sense,
To narrow bounds our search confined
And laughs to see proud mortals try
To fathom deep eternity,
With the short line and plummet of their mind."
_Creech’s Translation_
P. 164, l. 37
Ουδε γαρ ὁ Ζευς
Ουθ᾽ ὑων παντας ἁνδανει ουτ᾽ ανεχων
_Theognidis Sententiæ_ v. 25.
PREFACE BY THE EDITOR.
The Rev. Hugh Binning entered upon his pastoral charge at a very eventful
period. He was ordained in the interval between the death of Charles I.
and the coronation of his son Charles II., which took place at Scone, on
the first of January, 1651. In the first year of the incumbency of
Binning, the fatal battle of Dunbar was fought in different parts of
Scotland; three different armies, without concert with one another,
subsequently took the field, to oppose the progress of the parliamentary
forces. And it was not till after the death of Binning, that General Monk
succeeded in reducing the country to a state of subjection. Meanwhile, the
same jealousies and animosities prevailed, which had previously divided
the Scottish nation. The nobility, as well as the clergy, were opposed to
one another, and adopted different views of the national interests. And
what tended not a little to increase the public divisions, the
Anabaptists, Quakers, and other sectarians, connected with the English
army, employed themselves wherever they went, in propagating with great
industry, their peculiar opinions. By keeping these things in view, the
reader will be better able to understand, in the writings of Binning,
numerous allusions, more or less recondite, to the particular
circumstances of the times.
It was on Saturday the nineteenth of April, 1651, that Cromwell came to
Glasgow, with the principal part of his army. The next day he went to hear
sermon in the High church. In the forenoon, he entered the Choir, or Inner
church, as it was called, and, as Principal Baillie says, “quietly heard
Mr. Robert Ramsay preach a very good honest sermon, pertinent for his
case.”(1) He appeared equally unexpectedly in the afternoon, in the Nave,
or Outer church, when Mr. John Carstairs delivered in his presence a
lecture, and Mr. James Durham, a sermon. Both of these discourses had,
like the former one, a special reference to the existing posture of public
affairs. But as might have been expected, Cromwell was offended at the
plain dealing of all the three clergymen, who considered it to be their
duty to condemn him and his army, for their invasion of Scotland, for the
contempt they manifested for the religious institutions of the country,
and likewise, for their persecution of the ministers of Ireland. On the
following day, therefore, he summoned them, and the other clergymen of the
city, to a meeting in his own lodgings, that he might vindicate himself
and his confederates from the charges which had been brought against them,
and at the same time hear what his accusers had to advance in their own
behalf.
At this conference, which appears to have been conducted with good temper
on both sides, they who spoke most on the part of the Scottish clergy,
were Mr. Patrick Gillespie, Principal of the University of Glasgow, and
Mr. James Guthrie, minister of Stirling, who forfeited his life at
Edinburgh soon after the Restoration. On the other side, the principal
speakers were Cromwell himself, and General Lambert,(2) who, like many
other of the parliamentary officers, was a preacher, as well as a
soldier.(3) Some of Cromwell’s chaplains(4) are also represented to have
taken a share in the discussion, along with the Rev. Hugh Binning.
Cromwell, it is said, was struck with the fearlessness and ability of so
young a minister. “Who is that learned and bold young man?” said he. When
he was told his name was Binning, he replied, “He has bound well. But,” he
added, putting his hand, at the same time, to his sword, “this will loose
all again.”
In his Memoirs of the Life of Dr. John Owen, Mr. Orme adverts to this
anecdote regarding Binning, simply on the authority of a note in the
Biographia Scoticana. He does not seem to have been aware that, beyond
this note, there was any evidence to produce, that such a meeting as has
now been described, was ever actually held. But he observes, “There is
nothing improbable in the meeting, and Cromwell’s pun quite accords with
other anecdotes of his conversation.”(5) The part which Mr. Binning is
reported to have acted on this occasion, was no less characteristical of
him. He was a very able disputant. But when giving utterance to his
feelings, or expressing his sentiments, he was sometimes led to employ
strong language.(6)
The following account of the object and result of the meeting at Glasgow
is that which is given by Sir James Balfour—“Oliver Cromwell, with his
army, being at this tyme in Glasgow, had a conference with 8 ministers,
anent the lawfulness of his engagement against this countrey and kingdome.
He gave them some papers, wich they anssuered extempore, and proued to his
face his periurey and breach of couenant and leauge, and his sinfull
rebellion and murther, contrair to [the] expresse word of God, and leauge
and couenant suorne by himselue, and most of his complices. He toke the
morrow at 3 in the afternoone to his furder conference with them, and
maney of his cheiffest officers did openly acknowledge, they were
conuinced in reson, and neuer till now, did see the weekness of ther auen
grounds. In place of keiping the appoynted meitting, (seing a fyre to
begin to kindle amongest his auen,) about midnight, that same day, he
commands all his armey presently to march, wnder the paine of death, backe
towardes Edinburghe, and empties all his garisons be west Linhthgow, sends
his horses towardes the border, and with grate haist, with his footte
returns to Edinburgh and Leith, and is now bussie in repairring the
breaches of Edinburgh castle.”(7)
We are informed, that a Report of the whole proceedings which took place
on this occasion, was drawn up by Principal Gillespie, and Mr. James
Guthrie. (8) But whether that Report is now in existence or not, or was
ever printed, the writer has not been able to ascertain.
The invasion of Scotland, which was one of the charges brought against
Cromwell, was condemned by Lord Fairfax, the commander in chief of the
parliamentary forces. He looked upon it as an infraction of the Solemn
League and Covenant, which had been very generally subscribed in England,
as well as in Scotland. Feeling alarm at this, the Council of State
appointed Cromwell, Lambert, Harrison, St John, and Whitelocke to converse
with him, with a view, if possible, to overcome his scruples. But after a
long interview, Fairfax remained unmoved by their arguments, and expressed
his determination to resign his commission rather than proceed to Scotland
with the army, which was preparing to act against that part of the
kingdom. As he adhered firmly to this resolution, he was deprived of his
commission, and Cromwell was appointed to succeed him. Whitelock(9) has
furnished us with an account of what passed at the interview, which he and
his friends had with Lord Fairfax. The views expressed by the different
parties, therefore, as Whitelock has recorded them, will enable any one to
form, it is conceived, a tolerably correct idea of the nature of the
discussion which took place at Glasgow, when the same point was one of the
questions at issue, and when two of the principal speakers were the very
individuals who had previously argued the matter with Fairfax.
The letters which passed between Cromwell, and Colonel Dundas, the
governor of Edinburgh Castle will likewise assist us to conjecture what
may have been advanced on both sides on the occasion in question, at
Glasgow. Some Scottish clergymen had taken refuge there after the battle
of Dunbar. It was to them principally, through Colonel Dundas, that
Cromwell addressed himself. The letters were printed at the time. On
examining them, it will be perceived, that the invasion of Scotland, and
the other offences with which Cromwell and his party were charged at
Glasgow, formed in this instance likewise, grounds of accusation on the
one hand, and called forth a vindication on the other. In Hume’s opinion
the letters written by the parliamentary general are “the best of
Cromwell’s wretched compositions that remain.”(10) But Mr. Orme says of
them, “From their phraseology, I strongly suspect then to have been the
production of Owen’s pen.”(11) One of the letters, dated September 9,
1630, addressed to “The Honourable the Governor of the Castle of
Edinburgh,” and signed by “O Cromwell,” contains this passage—“The
ministers in England are supported, and have liberty to preach the
gospell, though not to raile, nor under pretence thereof to overtop the
civill power, or debase it as they please. No man hath been troubled in
England or Ireland for preaching the gospell, nor has any minister been
molested in Scotland since the coming of the army hither. The speaking
truth becomes the ministers of Christ. When ministers pretend to a
glorious reformation, and lay the foundation thereof in getting to
themselves worldly power, and can make worldly mixtures to accomplish the
same, such as their late agreement with their king, and hopes by him to
carry on their designe, [they] may know, that the Sion promised and hoped
for will not be built with such untempered mortar. As for the unjust
invasion they mention, time was, when an army of Scotland came into
England, not called by the supreame authority. We have said in our papers
with what hearts and upon what accompt we came, and the Lord hath heard
us, though you would not, upon as solemn an appeal as any experience can
parallell. And although they seem to comfort themselves with being the
sons of Jacob, from whom (they say) God hath hid his face for a time, yet
it’s no wonder, when the Lord hath lifted up his hand so eminently against
a family, as he hath done so often against this, and men will not see his
hand, if the Lord hide his face from such, putting them to shame, both for
it, and their hatred at his people, as it is this day. When they purely
trust to the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, which is
powerfull to bring down strongholds and every imagination that exalts
itself, which alone is able to square and fitt the stones for the new
Jerusalem, then and not before, and by that meanes and no other, shall
Jerusalem, (which is to be the praise of the whole earth,) the city of the
Lord be built, the Sion of the Holy One of Israel.”(12)
This letter was answered on the same day, and in the following terms, by
the Governor of the Castle. “My Lord,—Yours I have communicate to those
with me, whom it concerned, who desire me to return this answer, that
their ingenuitie in prosecuting the ends of the covenant, according to
then vocation and place, and adhering to then first principles, is well
known, and one of their greatest regrates is, that they have not been met
with the like, when ministers of the gospel have been imprisoned, deprived
of their benefices, sequestrate, forced to flee from their dwellings, and
bitterly threatned, for their faithful declareth the will of God against
the godless and wicked proceedings of men that it cannot be accounted an
imaginary fear of suffering in such, as are resolved to follow the like
freedom and faithfulness in discharge of their master’s message, that it
savours not of ingenuitie to promise liberty of preaching the gospel, and
to limit the preachers thereof, that they must not speak against the sins
and enormities of civill powers, since their commission carryeth them to
speak the word of the Lord unto, and to reprove the sins of persons of all
ranks from the highest to the lowest, that to impose the name of railing
upon such faithfull freedom was the old practice of malignants against the
ministers of the gospell, who laid open to people the wickedness of their
ways, that they should not be ensnared thereby; that their consciences
bear them record, and all their hearers do know, that they meddle not with
civill affairs further than to hold forth the rule of the word, by which
the straightnes and crookednes of men’s actions are made evident. But they
are sorry, that they have just cause to regrate, that men of meer civill
place and employment should usurp the calling and employment of the
ministry, to the scandall of the reformed kirks, and particularly in
Scotland, contrary to the government and discipline therein established,
to the maintenance whereof, you are bound by the solemn league and
covenant. Thus far they have thought fitt to vindicate their return to the
offer in Colonell Whalley’s letter. The other part of yours, which
concerns the public as well as them, they conceive that all have been
answered sufficiently in the public papers of the state and kirk. Onely,
to that of the successe upon your solemn appeal, they say again, what was
said to it before, that they have not so learned Christ, as to hang the
equity of their cause upon events; but desire to have their hearts
established in the love of the truth in all the tribulations that befall
them.”(13)
Other letters followed these previous to the surrender of the Castle. From
them, and the public papers of the time, we discover that the English army
justified their invasion of Scotland and their oppressive treatment of
their opponents, in Scotland and Ireland, by representing that their part
of the kingdom had been previously invaded from Scotland; that the
presbyterian party was friendly to monarchy; that that party had
interfered with their attempts to reform the government of England, and
declared against them as sectaries; and that a second invasion of England
by the Scottish nation was known to have been contemplated. On the other
hand, it was affirmed that the invasion of England, by the Marquis of
Hamilton, had been always disapproved of, and opposed by those who were
now in power in Scotland; that in taking up arms against the people of
Scotland, the English were proclaiming themselves the enemies of those who
had formed a covenant with them, and helped them in the day of their
distress; and that although the necessity or lawfulness of a war with
England, in present circumstances, had never been determined upon, nor
been even discussed either in parliament or in the assembly, there could
be no doubt a design was formed to overturn both the civil and
ecclesiastical institutions of the northern part of the island, and make
it a mere province of England.
Richard Baxter felt the warmest sympathy at this period with the Scottish
people, and with his usual intrepidity and honesty, openly arraigned the
conduct of his countrymen for invading Scotland. Binning, and the ablest
of his friends, could not have pled their own cause in the presence of
Cromwell, and his officers, with greater power and eloquence, than he did
for them, with the parliamentary soldiers and others, over whom he
possessed any influence. “When the soldiers were going against the king
and the Scots,” says he, “I wrote letters to some of them to tell them of
their sin, and desired them at last to begin to know themselves. They were
the same men who had boasted so much of love to all the godly, and pleaded
for tender dealing with them, and condemned those that persecuted them, or
restrained their liberty, who were now ready to imbrue their swords in the
blood of such as they acknowledged to be godly; and all because they dared
not be as perjured, or disloyal, as they were. Some of them were startled
at these letters, and thought me an uncharitable censurer, who would say
that they could kill the godly, even when they were on the march to do it;
for how bad soever they spoke of the cavaliers (and not without too much
desert as to their morals), they confessed, that abundance of the Scots
were godly men. Afterwards, however, those that I wrote to better
understood me.”
“At the same time, the Rump, or Commonwealth, which so much abhorred
persecution, and were for liberty of conscience, made an order that all
ministers should keep certain days of humiliation, to fast and pray for
their success in Scotland; and that we should keep days of thanksgiving
for their victories; and this upon pain of sequestration so that we all
expected to be turned out; but they did not execute it upon any, save one,
in our parts. For myself, instead of praying and preaching for them, when
any of the committee or soldiers were my hearers, I laboured to help them
to understand what a crime it was to force men to pray for the success of
those who were violating their covenant and loyalty, and going, in such a
cause, to kill their brethren,—what it was to force men to give God thanks
for all their bloodshed, and to make God’s ministers and ordinances vile,
and serviceable to such crimes, by forcing men to run to God on such
errands of blood and ruin,—and what it is to be such hypocrites as to
persecute, and cast out those that preach the gospel, while they pretend
the advancement of the gospel, and the liberty of tender consciences, and
leave neither tenderness nor honesty in the world, when the guides of the
flocks, and preachers of the gospel, shall be noted to swallow down such
heinous sins. My own hearers were all satisfied with my doctrine, but the
committee men looked sour, yet let me alone.”(14)
With regard to Binning’s own opinion of those whom he calls “our enemies
the invaders,” we find that expressed in his Case of Conscience. “They
think themselves,” says he, “godly and righteous, yet are not purged from
their filthiness. They are given up to strong delusions to believe lies;
and there is no lie greater than this, that they are a godly party, in a
godly cause and way. They wipe their mouth after all their bloodshed, and
say, I have done no evil. They wash their hands, as Pilate, as if they
were free of the blood of those just men, whose souls cry under the
altar.”(15)
Like his friend Principal Gillespie, however, Binning appears to have kept
up an amicable intercourse with some of the Independents in the army of
the Commonwealth. He even gave the use of his church to the chaplain
attached to Colonel Overtoun’s regiment, and not only went himself to hear
him preach, but exhorted his people likewise to do so. Such conduct, on
his part, will be viewed differently by different people. It will be
condemned by those who are servilely attached to their own particular
communion, and disposed to extend the line of separation between
themselves and others, even beyond the limits prescribed by their own
canonical rules; but it will be approved of by all whose charity is not
bounded by their own narrow pale; who, when they agree with others
respecting the fundamental doctrines of religion, would grant to them, as
to smaller matters, the toleration they claim for themselves; and who,
withal, believe, that much of that asperity and jealousy which disturb the
peace, and sully the character of the Christian world, would in all
likelihood be destroyed and prevented, were they, who unhappily are
separated from one another by names and forms, to become better acquainted
with each other’s principles, and each other’s feelings. Binning was
blamed by some of his brethren for his liberality. The part he had acted
was brought under the consideration of one of the inferior church courts.
He endeavoured to justify himself, and to show that he had done nothing
inconsistent either with his Christian or his ministerial character. But
not succeeding in the attempt, with true Christian forbearance, he
expressed his desire to avoid giving offence to his brethren, and
intimated his willingness that his conduct in similar cases should
henceforward be regulated by their wishes.(16)
As a proof of the influence which, along with Cromwell, some of the
independent chaplains in his army possessed over a number of the Scottish
clergy, it has been asserted that it was owing to them that a change was
effected in some of the forms of the presbyterian mode of worship. “It is
very observable,” it has been said, “that all the presbyterian ministers
in Scotland made use of the Christian forms of the Lord’s Prayer, Creed,
and Doxology, until Oliver’s army invaded Scotland, and the independent
chaplains in that army thought their own dispensation was above that of
Geneva. Upon this, such of the presbyterians as would recommend themselves
to the Usurper, and such as had his ear, forbore those forms in the public
worship, and by degrees they fell into desuetude.”(17)
The friendship which thus subsisted between some of the English
independent ministers, and some of the Scottish clergy, during the time
that the parliamentary army was in Scotland, has been differently
accounted for. It has been inferred that a number of the Protesters were
“somewhat favourable to Independency, among the chief of whom was Mr
Patrick Gillespie.”(18) On the other hand, it has been supposed, that some
of the Independent clergy had no decided objection to presbyterianism, in
the form in which that system of ecclesiastical polity existed in
Scotland. Dr. Owen, in particular, has been said to have expressly
declared this; nay, that he would have thought it an honour to sit as a
member in one of her Assemblies.(19) There can be no doubt that the
differences betwixt some of the Presbyterians and the Independents, were
not originally so great as these were afterwards discovered to be, between
persons distinguished by the same names. They professed to believe the
same great doctrines, and conscientiously preached them; and they differed
only in regard to their mode of church government. But even in regard to
this, some of the earlier Independents were far from differing widely from
their presbyterian brethren. The Rev. Charles Herle, who, after the death
of Dr. Twisse, was made prolocutor in the Westminster Assembly, has been
represented to have said, “The difference between us, and our brethren who
are for independency, is nothing so great as some may conceive; at most,
it does but ruffle the fringe, not any way rend the garment of Christ. It
is so far from being a fundamental, that it is scarce a material
difference.”(20) We are informed that Richard Baxter was likewise
accustomed to observe, that “if all the Presbyterians had been like Mr.
Marshall, and the Independents like Mr. Burroughs, their differences might
easily have been compromised.”(21) The only part of the country in which
any ministers connected with the Church of Scotland appear to have
separated from it, and joined themselves to the Independents was the town
or county of Aberdeen. A small work on Independency, bearing the title of
“A Little Stone out of the Mountain, or Church Order briefly opened,”
which was written by Nicholas Lockyer, who accompanied the English army to
Scotland, was printed at Leith in 1652. This was replied to, in a work
from the pen of James Wood, professor of theology in St. Andrews, which
was printed at Edinburgh in 1654. The title of Professor Wood’s
publication is, “A Little Stone pretended to be out of the Mountain,
Tried, and Found to be a Counterfeit,” &c. In that work, Wood animadverts
upon a letter from “the new Independents of Aberdene,” dated May 1652, and
laments that “some of them had been for some years ministers” of the
Established church.(22) It is singular enough, that in a memoir of that
unhappy man, Archbishop Sharp, which was published in his own lifetime,
and dedicated to himself, it is stated that Provost Jaffrey, who
afterwards became a Quaker, was known to declare that Sharp “was the first
man who had confirmed him in the way of Independency.”(23)
Along with other circumstances, the disunion which prevailed throughout
the church, and the causes which gave rise to it, must have had a tendency
to mitigate the hostility with which the Protesting clergy regarded the
army of Cromwell in general, and the effect, at the same time, of
recommending them to him, and his adherents. The Protesters doubted the
sincerity of Charles. Though he had subscribed their covenant, they were
persuaded he had no real attachment to their church. They were of opinion,
that, were he once firmly seated on the throne, their civil and religious
liberties would be alike endangered. So far, therefore, could they
sympathize with the parliamentary general, and the soldiers whom he
commanded, in their opposition to their monarch. The Protesters drew off
from the army, which after the battle of Dunbar was embodied, with the
concurrence of the king, the parliament, and the commission of the church,
for the defence of the monarchy, and the liberation of Scotland. This army
was recruited with men of every description. Numerous commissions in it
were given to known malignants. The success of an army so constituted, the
Protestors thought, was to be dreaded rather than wished for. Binning and
others declared they could not even pray for its success.(24) Here was
another point, in regard to which they and the invading army must have
felt sympathy with one another, and which must have materially altered
their relative position, leading them to assume such an equivocal
attitude, that it must have been difficult, even for themselves, to
determine whether they were more the friends or the foes of each other.
Injustice, however, has been done to the Protesters, by representing them
to have been republicans. This was by no means their character as a body,
whatever may have been the opinions of individuals among them. One of the
most active and able of them, was the unfortunate Mr. James Guthrie,
minister of Stirling. Though he was executed after the Restoration, for
his conceived disloyalty, in opposition, it is believed, to the personal
wishes of the king, he never abjured his lawful prince. He wished the
royal prerogative to be limited by law, as it afterwards was at the
Revolution, but he did not wish it to be abolished. At great personal
hazard, Guthrie maintained a public disputation on the subject of the
royal authority, in the church of Stirling, with the noted Hugh Peters one
of Cromwell’s chaplains, and in the presence of a number of the
parliamentary officers. And in the same place, and near the same period,
he showed himself to be a staunch presbyterian, by engaging in a public
discussion(25) with Mr. J. Brown, an Anabaptist, who was chaplain to
Colonel Fairfax’s regiment. In his speech at his trial, he declared his
loyalty in the strongest possible terms, and made the following touching,
though unavailing, appeal to his judges.—“Albeit, it does become me to
adore God in the holiness and wisdom of his dispensations, yet I can
hardly refrain from expressing some grief of spirit, that my house and
family should not only be so many months together cessed, by a number of
English soldiers, and myself kept from the pulpit, for preaching and
speaking against the Tender, and incorporating this nation in one
commonwealth with England, and that I should thereafter, in time of Oliver
Cromwell his usurping the government to himself, under the name of
Protector, be delated by some, and challenged by sundry of his council in
this nation, for a paper published by me, wherein he was declared to be an
usurper, and his government to be usurpation, that I should have been
threatened to have been sent to the court, for writing a paper against
Oliver Cromwell his usurping the crown of these kingdoms, that I should
have been threatened with banishment for concurring in offering a large
testimony, against the evil of the times, to Richard Cromwell his council,
immediately after his usurping the government, I say, my lord, it grieves
me, that, notwithstanding of all those things, I should now stand indicted
before your lordships as intending the eradicating and subverting of the
ancient civil government of this nation, and being subservient to that
usurper in his designs. The God of heaven knows that I am free of this
charge, and I do defy all the world, allowing me justice and fair
proceeding, which I hope your lordships will, to make out the same against
me.”(26)
From the Case of Conscience and from some expressions which Binning
uttered under strong excitement, and which were repeated to Principal
Baillie,(27) it would appear that his loyalty was somewhat shaken by the
passing of the public resolutions, after the battle of Dunbar if not
before that time, by a conviction of the dissimulation of the king. He
probably thought, with the framers of the western remonstrance,(28) in
which he seems to have concurred, that they would not be justifiable in
fighting for Charles, without some additional security being provided for
the maintenance of their religious privileges, and unless some adequate
restraint were imposed upon the exercise of the royal authority. His dread
of arbitrary power is strongly expressed in the Case of Conscience “The
plea of necessity,” says he,(29) “is but a pretence to cover some design,
that under its specious and plausible covering, the power of the land may
be engrossed in the hands of malignants, and so by this means, all power
and trust may return, as the rivers to the sea or fountain, as they judge
the king, that so, in his person, there may be established an unlimited
and arbitrary power.”
That Binning was the author of the Case of Conscience cannot reasonably be
doubted.
I. It was published, in 1693,(30) under the name of “Mr. Hugh Binning,
sometime Professor of Philosophie in the Universitie of Glasgow, and
thereafter minister of God’s word at Goven.” Nor, so far as can be
ascertained, was it denied to be his by any person, at the time of its
publication. It was printed in Holland, and although, as has been objected
to it, it has not attached to it the name of the printer, nor the name of
the place where it was printed, neither have “The Apologeticall Relation,”
“The True Non Conformist,” “The Apology for, or Vindication of, Oppressed
Persecuted Ministers,” “The History of the Indulgence,” “Rectius
Instruendum,” “The Hind Let Loose,” and various other works by Scottish
writers, which, for obvious reasons were printed abroad, after the
Restoration. In his dying Testimony, however, it is declared by Mr. Robert
Smith, a graduate of Groningen, that the Rev. James Kid, who was
subsequently minister of Queensferry, was sent to Holland by the Society
people to superintend the printing of the Sanquhar Declaration of 1692,
and “Mr. Hugh Binning’s piece against association,” that Mr. Kid was
imprisoned for this for a considerable time in Holland, and that after he
obtained his liberty, he and Kid studied for one session together at the
University of Utrecht.(31)
II. It seems almost certain that the manuscript must have been obtained
from the widow of the author, or from his son, both of whom were living
when the pamphlet first appeared, and both of whom were intimately
connected with the Society people. At a general meeting of the Society
people at Edinburgh, 28th May, 1683, “It was resolved that _Mr. John
Binning_ should be desired to wait upon a school, for teaching some young
men, and for his pains he was to have twenty five pounds Scots per
Quarter. According to this resolution, Mr. Binning did teach Latin to some
of these young men for some time.”(32) And in a letter from the Rev. James
Renwick, to Sir Robert Hamilton of Preston, dated Sept 26th, 1683, and
printed from the original, he says, “Likeways, according to your
direction, I challenged Mrs. Binning upon her intimacie with your sister,
but she says there is noe ground for it, and I think not such as your
honour apprehends. As also I challenged her upon the commendation she gave
Jo Wilsone, in her letter unto you, but she says she had not then seen his
testimonie, and was sorrie when she saw it, it was so contrary both to her
thoughts, and to her commendation of him.”(33) This letter is curtailed in
the printed collection of Renwick’s Letters,(34) and the passage in it,
which refers to Mrs. Binning, is only partially quoted by John Howie of
Lochgoin, in a note to Shields’ Faithful Contendings.(35)
III. A copy of the original manuscript is at present in my possession,
belonging to David Laing, Esq., Edinburgh, which, so far as one can judge
from the orthography and hand writing, must have been written near the
time of the author. It formed part of a collection of papers chiefly of
that period, of which some are docketed by Sir Archibald Johnston of
Warriston. It is entitled “The Tractat, proving that there is still a
Maligt Party, and that wee should not associate with them, written in
Januar 1651”. The writer of the Life of Binning was of opinion that as
“Mr. Binning died in the year 1653, and the pamphlet was not published
till the year 1693”, some of the Protesters would have published it, in
the course of that period, “had they known that Mr Binning was the author
of it.” But various circumstances may have occurred to prevent its being
made public at an earlier period. And although it was not printed, it may
have been read by many in manuscript. I cannot but think, though he has
mistaken the Christian name of the author, that it is to Hugh Binning’s
Case of Conscience, that Samuel Colvill, the ungodly son of a pious
mother, alludes, in that mass of ribaldry and indecency, “The Whigs
Supplication,” when describing the library of the Covenanters, he says,
“Some reads the cases of Richard Binning”(36)
This mock poem of Colvill was printed for the first time in the year 1681,
but according to the poet’s own statement, it was circulated in MS
previous to this.(37)
IV. The views of Binning are known to have accorded with the general
strain of the Case of Conscience. The object of his tractate was to expose
and counteract the purposes and proceedings of the Resolutioners. This was
likewise Binning’s object in the part he acted, on different occasions, in
the presbytery of Glasgow. In the Minutes of that ecclesiastical court, he
is always found opposed to the Resolutioners, and co operating with
Principal Gillespie, and the other Protesters. This will account for the
tone in which Baillie speaks of him. “Behold,” says he in a letter from
Perth, 2d January, 1651, “the next presbytery day, when I am absent, Mr.
Patrick [Gillespie] causes read again the Commission’s letter, and had led
it so, that by the elders’ votes, the men of greatest experience and
wisdom of our presbytery were the two youngest we had, Mr. Hugh Binning
and Mr. Andrew Morton.”(38) The following fact proves that the opponents,
as well as the friends, of Binning in the presbytery, knew him to be
decidedly averse to the public resolutions. On the 28th of May, 1651, Mr.
Patrick Gillespie, Mr. John Carstairs, and Mr. Hugh Binning were chosen by
the presbytery to be their representatives at the ensuing General
Assembly. But Mr. Robert Ramsay, and the other Resolutioners who were
present, protested against their election, on the ground that they had not
received notice of what was intended to be done, that Mr. Gillespie and
Mr. Binning were opposed to the public resolutions in Church and State,
and that the commission of the Church might yet give them some directions
as to this matter. Accordingly, when the Assembly met at St Andrews, from
protesting against which as an illegal Assembly, the Protesters derived
their name, among the numerous commissions which were objected to on that
occasion, were those of Mr. Patrick Gillespie and Mr. Hugh Binning the
Resolutioners in the presbytery having, it appears, made a different
appointment of commissioners, at a meeting of their own.(39) So much
opposed, indeed, was Binning to the public resolutions that we find him,
on the 20th of June 1651, protesting against the insertion of a letter,
from the Commission of the Church regarding them, in the presbytery
Minutes. And on the 20th of August, we in like manner perceive him voting
against the registration, in the Minutes of the presbytery, of various
Acts of the Assembly, which had met at St. Andrews and Dundee, in July,
1651 “because yet were sinful in themselves, and came from an unlawful and
null assemblie.”(40)
But this is not all Binning wrote. “Some ammadversions upon a paper
entituled, _no separation from the armie_, &c.” These, it is believed,
were never printed. The manuscript copy, which I have perused, is in the
hand writing of Mr. David Anderson, the clerk, or amanuensis of Sir
Archibald Johnston of Warriston, who has written on it with his own hand,
“Mr H Binny his reply to M D Dickson.” The title itself of the manuscript
indicates the views of the author. But the summary of its style and
reasoning, and those of the Case of Conscience, is very evident. Although
he was thus led under an imperative sense of duty, to enter the lists of
controversy with Mr. David Dickson, who was now Professor of Theology in
the University of Edinburgh, but who at the time of the induction of the
author, being a member of the presbytery, had presided at his ordination,
it is pleasant to observe, that even when expressing himself most
strongly, Binning treats his former colleague in the University of
Glasgow, with uniform courtesy and respect. In one place he says, “If I
knew not the integritie of the writter, I could hardlie spare a hard
censure of him, either for dissembling what he knowes, or not reading what
he condemns. But I will think neither, but rather that he is too confident
of his own assertion.” In another place he exclaims, “Alas! should a
divine speak so? If a carnall polititian had said it, I had not thought it
strange, but a godlie tender man to speake in these terms.” Should it be
asked how this manuscript has not formed a part of the present collection
of the works of the Author, the reason is simply this: It was not
conceived that the degree of interest felt at this distant period, in the
controversy to which it relates, would warrant its publication, and more
particularly as any one, wishing to obtain a knowledge of the principles
and the policy which it advocates, may be gratified, by consulting some of
the numerous pamphlets and manifestoes, which were printed at the time.
Along with the Case of Conscience, the present edition of the works of the
Author includes the “Treatise of Christian Love,” first printed at
Edinburgh in 1743, and “Several Sermons upon the most Important Subjects
of Practical Religion,” which were printed for the first time at Glasgow
in 1760. Neither of these is contained in the quarto edition of Binning’s
works that was published in 1768, at Glasgow. That was a mere reprint of
the edition of 1735, which issued from the Edinburgh press. In his Address
to the Reader, the publisher of the Treatise on Christian Love says, “This
treatise, with a great number of excellent sermons, preached by this able
minister of the gospel, many of which have never been printed, in a
manuscript in folio, was found in the late Reverend Mr. Robert Woodrow,
minister of Eastwood, his library.” The editor of the Practical Sermons,
however, informs us, in his preface, that the manuscript from which the
“elegant and judicious treatise of Christian Love was first printed,” _was
in his hand_.(41) And he adds, “As Mr. Wodrow wrote large collections upon
the lives of our most eminent Reformers, which he designed to publish if
he had lived longer, so the Lives and Letters of Mr. John Knox, who was
commonly styled the Reformer, is now preparing for the press, to which
will be added some of his essays on religious subjects, never before
printed. If the publication of Mr. Knox’s life be duly encouraged, some
more lives of other ministers in that period will be transcribed and
revised, for the benefit of the public, who desire to have them
printed.”(42) Hence we are led to conclude, that those additional works of
Binning found their way to the press through the Rev. Robert Wodrow,
minister of Eastwood, the son and successor of the historian. The preface
to the Practical Sermons is dated “Brousterland, Sept 12th, 1760.” This is
the name of a place in the parish of Kilbride, in the county of Lanark, to
which it has been ascertained the son of the historian retired, for a
short time, after resigning his cure in the year 1758. I observe,
likewise, that a letter now before me, written in the year 1806, by the
Rev. Dr. James Wodrow, minister of Stevenston, the youngest son of the
historian, and addressed to the Rev. Dr. Robert Finlay, of the University
of Glasgow, contains a statement, which, in the absence of more direct
evidence, may be referred to, as furnishing us with some other grounds for
believing that the anonymous writer of the “Brousterland” preface was the
retired minister of Eastwood. The statement is, that the writer of the
letter, who was much younger than his two brothers, the ministers of
Tarbolton and Eastwood, had “heard” that they “had some thoughts of
publishing Buchanan and Knox’s Lives,” written by their father.
It is to be regretted that none of Binning’s writings were published by
himself, or in his own lifetime. The indulgence of the reader is on this
account justly claimed for them. We cannot be certain that the author’s
meaning has been always correctly expressed. And every one accustomed to
composition must be aware, that in transcribing, or revising what has been
previously written, even with some degree of care, the change of a single
expression, or the insertion of an additional word, or the transposition
of a solitary clause in a sentence, often makes the meaning of the writer
infinitely clearer, and gives a new character altogether to his style. But
we ought also to bear in mind, that the following sermons were prepared
for a country audience, and that they were the ordinary weekly production
of a very young clergyman, struggling with bad health, and burdened with
the performance of various other arduous duties. Many, I have no doubt,
will think this apology for the author unnecessary. The facts now stated,
however, when taken into consideration, must increase their admiration of
Binning, his copiousness, his variety, both in regard to matter and style,
the beauty of his imagery, the grandeur of his conceptions, his felicitous
application of the language of scripture, being all the more wonderful,
when viewed in connexion with the unfavourable circumstances in which his
sermons were composed.
The discourses of Binning are unquestionably a very favourable specimen of
the talents and learning, as well as of the piety of the clergy of
Scotland in his day. At the same time, that class of men have not had
justice done to them. Adopting the tone of their persecutors, it was long
the practice of court sycophants, and others, to ridicule and calumniate
them. Their sermons were burlesqued, sometimes through ignorance, and
sometimes through malice. Many of them were printed from the notes, or
imperfect recollections of pious but illiterate persons. And if a minister
was known to possess any portion of eccentricity, absurd sayings were
invented for him, and when, at any time, a singular statement, or an
uncouth expression, was heard to proceed from him, it was seized upon with
avidity, treasured up, and repeated as an illustration of the kind of
preaching that was common among the ministers of his church. It is almost
inconceivable, therefore, how many, even among the intelligent classes of
society, in the present day, have been led, most unwarrantably, to form
their estimate of the literary qualifications of the ministers of
Scotland, in the seventeenth century, from the grotesque “Pockmanty
Sermon” of the Rev. James Row, minister at Monnivaird and Strowan, from
Hobbes’s Behemoth, from the unpolished, unauthenticated(43) discourses of
some of the field preachers, or from that collection of profanity and
obscenity entitled “Scotch Presbyterian Eloquence Display’d.”(44)
Bishop Hall bears honourable testimony to the character and professional
accomplishments of the ministers of Scotland, in the early part of the
seventeenth century. In a sermon preached by him in London, on Easter
Monday, 1618, he says, “For the northern part of our land, beyond the
Tweed, we saw not, we heard not, of a congregation without a preaching
minister, and though their maintenance generally hath been small, yet
their pains have been great, and their success answerable. As for the
learning and sufficiency of those preachers, whether prelates or
presbyters, our ears were for some of them sufficient witnesses; and we
are not worthy of our ears, if our tongues do not thankfully proclaim it
to the world.”
When we approach somewhat nearer the time of Binning, we can point, in the
Church of Scotland, to such men as Robert Leighton, who was then the
Presbyterian minister of the parish of Newbottle, and to Alexander
Henderson, minister of the parish of Leuchars, in the county of Fife, men
who would have done honour to any Protestant church in Europe. Nothing
need be said of the piety and eloquence of Leighton, whose name has been
preserved from obscurity, by his subsequent elevation to the episcopal
chair, and the publication of his admirable writings. The name of
Henderson may not be so familiar to some. But what says an English
historian of him? “Alexander Henderson, the chief of the Scottish clergy
in this reign, was learned, eloquent, and polite, and perfectly well
versed in the knowledge of mankind. He was at the helm of affairs in the
General Assemblies in Scotland, and was sent into England in the double
capacity of a divine and plenipotentiary. He knew how to rouse the people
to war, or negotiate a peace. Whenever he preached, it was to a crowded
audience, and when he pleaded or argued, he was regarded with mute
attention.”(45) Mr. William Guthrie, minister of Fenwick in the county of
Ayr, was another of Binning’s contemporaries. His memory, like that of
other Scottish ministers of that century, has suffered from his name
having been attached to sermons falsely said to be his, at least in the
form in which they have been printed. Let any person, however, of
unsophisticated taste and true piety read “The Christian’s Great
Interest,” which was the only work published by Guthrie himself, and it
will not surprise him that a church, which had many such village pastors,
should have fixed itself in the affections of the nation at large, and
that instructed by such men, the humblest classes of the community should
have had so much religious knowledge, as Bishop Burnet(46) somewhat
reluctantly admits they possessed. The wife of Wodrow the historian was
the granddaughter of William Guthrie.(47) In his Analecta, Wodrow says, it
was well ordered that Mr. Guthrie died in Angus, “for his congregation
would have idolized his grave had he died among them.” He also mentions
that his Treatise was highly valued by Queen Mary, who caused it to be
translated into the French language, and to whom it had been presented by
Mr. William Carstares, chaplain to William III, and afterwards Principal
of the University of Edinburgh, that Archbishop Tillotson commended it as
one of the best written books in the language, and that Dr John Owen
declared, he valued it so highly, he had made it his vade mecum.(48)
Contrary to the general belief, the ministers of Scotland, in Binning’s
time, not only included among them many individuals, who were highly
esteemed on account of their talents, literature, and piety, but a great
number of them “were related to the chief families in the country, either
by blood or marriage.”(49) Binning himself, and Mr. William Guthrie
minister of Fenwick, were the sons of respectable landed proprietors. Mr.
Gabriel Semple, minister of Kirkpatrick of the Muir, was the son of Sir
Bryce Semple of Cathcart, Mr. James Hamilton, minister of Dumfries, was
the nephew of Lord Claneboy, afterwards Earl of Clanbrassil, Mr. David
Fletcher, minister of Melrose, was the brother of Sir John Fletcher,
King’s Advocate, Mr. Patrick Scougal, minister of Saltoun, was the son of
Sir John Scougal of that ilk, Mr. John Nevoy, minister of Newmills, was
the brother of Sir David Nevoy of that ilk, Mr. James Hamilton, minister
of Cambusnethan, was the son of Sir John Hamilton of Broomhill, and
brother of the first Lord Belhaven, and to mention no others, Mr. Robert
Melvil, minister at Culross, was the son of Sir James Melvil of Halhill.
One of the distinguishing peculiarities of Binning is his rejection of the
endless divisions and subdivisions which, along with their subtle
distinctions, were borrowed from the schoolmen, and which disfigured and
incumbered the sermons of that age. In Scotland, as well as in England,
before his time, sermons were formed as Dr. Watts expresses it, “upon the
model of doctrine, reason, and use.”(50) Those sermons often contained
much excellent theology, which was faithfully and aptly applied to the
heart and life. But the numerous parts into which they were divided, must
have marred their effect, and operated as a restraint upon the eloquence
of the preacher. This was plainly the opinion of Binning. “Paul speaks,”
says he, “of a right dividing of the word of truth, (2 Tim ii. 15) not
that ordinary way of cutting it all in parcels, and dismembering it, by
manifold divisions, which I judge makes it lose much of its virtue, which
consists in union. Though some have pleasure in it, and think it
profitable, yet I do not see that this was the apostolic way.”(51)
Binning, accordingly, had the courage and the good taste to adopt in
conjunction with Leighton, a more simple and natural manner of preaching.
After a building was completed, he did not think it added either to its
beauty or convenience, to retain the scaffolding. For this, he was
censured at the time, by Robert Baillie. But whoever will read the sermon
of that learned divine, entitled “Errors and Induration,” which was
preached by him in Westminster Abbey, in the month of July, 1645, will not
be astonished to find, that Baillie disapproved of a mode of preaching,
which was so completely at variance with his own. “He has the new guise of
preaching,” said Baillie, speaking of Mr. Andrew Gray, who was the son of
Sir James Gray, and one of the ministers of the High Church of Glasgow,
“which Mr. Hugh Binning and Mr. Robert Leighton began, [not] containing
the ordinary way of expounding and dividing a text, of raising doctrines
and uses, but runs out on a discourse on some common head, in a high,
romancing, and unscriptural style, tickling the ear for the present, and
moving the affections in some, but leaving, as he confesses, little or
nought to the memory and understanding. This we must misken, for we cannot
help it.”(52)
It has been said that Binning himself, when on his death bed, regretted to
one of his friends, that his sermons had been framed after a different
model from that to which his countrymen had been accustomed, and had he
lived, that “he was fully resolved to have followed that way of preaching
by doctrine, reasons, and uses, and he declared he was then best pleased
with.”(53) We can easily believe this. The faithful Christian minister is
not a man that is likely to be pleased with his own performances, in any
circumstances, and more particularly, when he sees the hour approaching,
when he expects to be called upon, to render an account of his stewardship
and should his hopes of usefulness have been disappointed, he will be more
disposed, even than others, to blame the teacher. Binning, it is not
improbable, thought he had done wrong, in discarding from many of his
sermons formal divisions altogether, and, like many English preachers who
came after him, that in passing from one extreme, he had sometimes
proceeded to another. He may likewise have discovered, when catechizing
some of his simple parishioners, that from want of the usual landmarks to
guide them, they were not always able to follow him, when addressing them
from the pulpit, or to give such a good account of his sermons, as of the
discourses of some other ministers, who in preaching adhered to the rules
and method of the period.(54)
A small volume, having for its title “Evangelical Beauties of the late
Rev. Hugh Binning,” was prepared for the press, by the Rev. John Brown of
Whitburn, and published at Edinburgh, in the year 1828. Along with this
interesting little work, a letter from the late Dr M’Crie was printed, in
which that judicious and popular writer says, “I am fond of Binning, he is
thoroughly evangelical, is always in earnest and full of his subject,
abounds in new and striking thoughts, and has many natural and unaffected
beauties in his style and manner of writing. Had he paid a little more
attention to order and method, and lived to correct his sermons for the
press, he would, in my opinion, have carried every point of a good and
great preacher. As it is, very few writers please me more. I will rejoice
if the plan you propose shall be the means of producing a new edition of
his works, which are far less known than they deserve to be, and have
hitherto been chiefly in the hands of that class of persons least
qualified for relishing some of his distinguishing excellencies.” There
can be little doubt, as Dr. M’Crie has here hinted, that in Binning’s
discourses, there is occasionally an apparent neglect of order and method,
and that we could have wished, for the sake of his hearers particularly,
or with a view to attract attention and assist the memory, he had more
frequently stated the outlines of his plan in two or three general heads.
But few surely will feel sorry that his eloquent periods are not broken
down into detached fragments, or will wish that he had substituted a dry
detail of disjointed particulars for his powerful and impassioned appeals
to the understanding and feelings of his auditors. Few will wish that he
had discussed all his texts in the way he has handled 1 Tim. i. 5.(55) The
presbytery of Glasgow prescribed to him this text as the subject of one of
his probationary discourses. That is the reason, probably, that his
sermons upon it are composed upon a different plan from his others, and
more in accordance with the conventional mode of the day.
Although Binning held the doctrine of predestination, in what the enemies
of that scriptural doctrine consider its most repulsive form, being, like
Samuel Rutherford, and David Dickson, the author of Therapeutica Sacia,
and many other eminent divines of that time, a supralapsarian, he was far
from exacting in others a rigid conformity to his particular opinions. It
is impossible not to admire the Christian spirit that dictated the
following passage in one of his sermons, “If we search the scriptures, we
shall find that they do not entertain us with many and subtile discourses
of God’s nature, and decrees, and properties, nor do they insist upon the
many perplexed questions that are made concerning Christ and his offices,
about which so many volumes are spun out, to the infinite distinction of
the Christian world. They do not pretend to satisfy your curiosity, but to
edify your souls, and therefore they hold out God in Christ, as clothed
with all his relations to mankind, in all those plain and easy properties,
that concern us everlastingly,—his justice, mercy, grace, patience, love,
holiness, and such like. Now, hence I gather, that the true knowledge of
God consists not in the comprehension of all the conclusions that are
deduced, and controversies that are discussed anent these things, but
rather, in the serious and solid apprehension of God, as he hath relation
to us, and consequently in order and reference to the moving of our
hearts, to love, and adore, and reverence him, for he is holden out only
in those garments that are fit to move and affect our hearts. A man may
know all these things, and yet not know God himself, for to know him,
cannot be abstracted from loving him.”(56)
The practical character of the theology of Binning is not less remarkable.
He never lost sight of the connection between truth and the conscience.
All who are acquainted with his writings must be aware, that from the
consideration of the more profound doctrines of Divine Revelation, he did
not permit himself to be deterred by any false humility, or any mistaken
idea of the incompetency of the human mind to follow in the track of the
sacred writers. In the works of no author of the period, or of the
theological school to which he belonged, shall we find more frequent
references to the high and sacred mysteries of revealed truth. Yet are we
unable to perceive, in his discourses, any symptoms of the paralyzing
influence, which the discussion of such topics has not unfrequently
exerted, on the compositions of other equally sound, but less skilful and
comprehensive writers. His divinity was drawn immediately from the sacred
scriptures, and finding it there, not only in its sublime, and often
mysterious relations to the mind, and purposes of the Almighty, but also
in its application to the conscience and affections of the finite
creature, for whose use it was revealed,—he presented it to his hearers in
all its native majesty, and at the same in all its practical simplicity.
In dealing with the consciences of sinners, in particular, this
peculiarity of Binning is displayed in a manner that is singularly
striking. In the sermons of those who are most opposed to the doctrines
which he was at such pains to inculcate, we shall search in vain for more
pungent addresses to the consciences of mankind, or more unfettered
exhibitions of the gospel as a remedial scheme, in which all the
descendants of Adam are warranted to regard themselves as having an
interest. Some of his contemporaries were evidently shackled by their
conceptions of the place which the doctrine of the divine decrees holds in
the system of revealed truth. They hesitated to proclaim a free salvation
and a willing Saviour to all man kind, simply on the ground of their
common destitution as sinners, and they sought to extricate themselves
from the difficulties, arising out of the doctrine of election on the one
hand, and the common offers of the gospel on the other, by the chilling
hypothesis, that these offers were made in reality, whatever might be
their form, to convinced, or in the language of the period, “sensible”
sinners only. Binning, spurning at such systematic trammels, took his
stand upon the clear testimony of God in the gospel. He not only taught
that Christ is the Saviour of sinners, but pressed upon every sinner the
offer of the Saviour. Instead of requiring those whom he addressed, to
accept of salvation, by the discovery of convictions, or feelings, or any
thing else in themselves, constructive of an initial work of grace, he
simply and unreservedly taught them that sinners, as such, are addressed
in the gospel, and that all who are sinners have an equal warrant to
accept freely that which is thus so freely proffered. “I think,” he says,
“a man should seek nothing in himself whereupon to build his coming to
Christ. Though it be true, no man can come to a Saviour, till he be
convinced of sin and misery, yet no man should seek convictions, as a
warrant to come to Christ for salvation. He that is in earnest about this
question, how shall I be saved?—I think he should not spend the time in
reflecting on, and examination of himself, till he find some thing
promising in himself, but, from discovered sin and misery, pass
straightway over to the grace and mercy of Christ, without any intervening
search of something in himself to warrant him to come. There should be
nothing before the eye of the soul but sin and misery and absolute
necessity, compared with superabounding grace and righteousness in Christ,
and thus it singly devolves itself over upon Christ, and receives him as
offered freely, ‘without money and without price.’ I know it is not
possible that a soul can receive Christ, till there be some preparatory
convincing work of the law, to discover sin and misery. But I hold, that
to look to any such preparation, and fetch an encouragement or motive
therefrom, to believe in Christ, is really to give him a price for his
free waters and wine, it is to mix in together, Christ and the law, in the
point of our acceptation. And for souls to go about to seek preparations
for a time, resolving not at all to consider the promise of the gospel,
till they have found them, and satisfaction in them, is nothing else but
to go about to establish their own righteousness, being ignorant of the
righteousness of Christ.”(57)
Binning, however, it will be found, did not give his sanction to the views
of those who confounded faith in Christ and the assurance of salvation.
This was one of the numerous errors of the day. It was prevalent in
England, and along with other heresies, it had no doubt insinuated itself,
by means of the parliamentary soldiers, into some parts of Scotland. So
far from the assurance of salvation being of the essence of faith, or a
constant attendant upon it, there are some sincere Christians, we have
reason to believe, who are all their lifetime strangers to it; while they
who have attained to it, from discovering in themselves the fruits and
evidences of faith, have it oftentimes clouded and suspended. This is
consistent with the personal experience of many humble and pious persons,
and with what we read in the Diaries of many, whose life when upon the
earth was the best of all proofs that the Spirit of God dwelt in them. It
is likewise confirmed by the recorded experience of the man according to
God’s own heart. If he was at one time elevated with hope, he was at
another time depressed by fear. If, when meditating upon the divine love
and mercy, he was on some occasions filled with peace and joy, he was on
other occasions, when contemplating his own guilt and unworthiness, a prey
to grief and perplexity. If he was heard to exclaim, “Thou, Lord, hast
made me glad through thy work, I will triumph in the works of thy hands,”
he was also heard to cry out, “Will the Lord cast off for ever? And will
he be favourable no more? Is his mercy clean gone for ever? Doth his
promise fail for evermore? Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Hath he in
anger shut up his tender mercies?” A man who believes Christ to be the Son
of God and the Saviour of the world, if he has searched the scriptures,
has been made acquainted with the deceitfulness of the human heart, and
the devices of our great adversary. It is on this account he does not
always feel assured of his salvation. He is afraid that he may be
deceiving himself, and be thinking more highly of himself then he ought to
think. He has learned, from the parable of the sower, that some “receive
the word with joy,” and “for a while believe,” but as they have “no root,”
they “in time of temptation fall away.” This leads him to examine himself,
and to prove himself, whether he be in the faith. This indeed is what the
apostle has enjoined us all to do, thereby showing that a man may be in
Christ Jesus, and yet be doubtful of his salvation; and, on the other
hand, that a man may have a complete assurance of his salvation, and yet
be still “in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity.” It is
from the fruits of the Spirit, therefore, that in himself as well as in
others, the believer discovers the presence of the Spirit. “Both in
philosophy and divinity, yea, in common sense, it is allowed to reason
from the effects to the causes. Here is burning, therefore here is fire.
Here is the blossoming of trees and flowers, therefore it is spring, and
the sun is turning again in his course. Here is perfect day light,
therefore the sun is risen. Here is good fruit growing; therefore here is
a good tree. ’Tis a consequence no less sure and infallible, here is
unfeigned love to the brethren, therefore here is regeneration. Here are
spiritual motions, affections, desires, acts, and operations, therefore
here is spiritual life.”(58)
These were plainly the sentiments of Binning. He distinguished, with
logical precision, between faith in Christ and its consequences. In regard
to the doctrine of the Antinomians, he says, “That every man is bound to
persuade himself at the first, that God hath loved him, and Christ
redeemed him, is the hope of the hypocrite,—like a spider’s web, which,
when leaned to, shall not stand. That man’s expectation shall perish, he
hath kindled sparks of his own,—a wild fire, and walketh not in the true
light of the word, and so must lie down in sorrow.”(59) Employing language
very similar to that of Gillespie, which it would almost seem he had
before him at the moment, he also says, “If the question be, as it is
indeed, about the grounds of our assurance, and knowledge of our own
faith, certainly it is clear as the noonday, that as the good tree is
known by the fruits thereof, and the fire by the heat thereof, so the
indwelling of faith in the heart is known by its purifying of the heart
and working by love. It makes a man a new creature, so that he and others
may see the difference. Neither is this any derogation to the free grace
of Christ, or any establishing of our own righteousness, except men be so
afraid to establish their own righteousness, that they will have no
holiness at all, but abandon it quite, for fear of trusting in it, which
is a remedy worse than the disease, because I make it not a ground of my
acceptation before God, but only a naked evidence of my believing in
Christ, and being accepted of God, it being known that these have a
necessary connexion together in the scriptures, and it being also known
that the one is more obvious and easy to be discerned than the other.”(60)
It will be thought that the Latin quotations, which the author has
introduced into his sermons, might have been spared. These show a mind
richly stored with classical learning. They are not forced or unnatural.
All of them are appropriate, and many of them singularly felicitous. Still
it will be conceived that they would have appeared with more propriety and
better effect, in an academical disquisition, or a _concio ad clerum_,
than in sermons preached in a country church. But in justice to Binning,
it is proper to observe, he did nothing more than follow the example of
the most celebrated preachers who had preceded him. Bishop Burnet remarks
with considerable severity of the English divines, who appeared before
Tillotson, Lloyd, and Stillingfleet, that their sermons were “both long
and heavy, when all was pye balled, full of many sayings of different
languages.”(61) The sermons of the learned Joseph Mede, who died in 1638,
are filled not only with Greek and Latin quotations, but with Hebrew, and
Chaldee, and Syriac. But his biographer very ingenuously admits, that when
he had occasion to quote from a work written in any of the Eastern
languages, if the testimonies were long, Mede usually gave a Latin version
of them, “as judging it perhaps more fit and useful to quote them in a
language which might be understood by all that heard him, even by the
younger students, than to make an astonishing clatter, with many words of
a strange sound, and of an unknown sense to some in the auditory.”(62) In
the discourses of Jeremy Taylor, Bishop of Down, who outlived Binning we
likewise meet with innumerable quotations, both in Greek and Latin, from
the classics and from the fathers. And though we might be disposed to
infer the contrary, those discourses were not composed for the benefit of
the learned members of a university. As the author himself has informed us
they were all preached at Golden Grove, to the family and domestics of his
patron and perhaps in addition to these, to a few of their neighbours and
as many of the peasantry on the estate as could understand English.(63)
The common people in England were so much accustomed in those days to hear
Latin spoken in the pulpit, that they were sometimes led to undervalue a
preacher who did not make some use of it. When Dr. Pollock, the celebrated
orientalist, was presented to the rectory of Childry, near Oxford, he
considered it to be his duty to adapt his instructions to what he thought
to be the capacity of his rustic parishioners. This made some of them
lament to one of his friends that he was “no Latiner.”(64) An unseasonable
display of learning by Dr. Manton, on the other hand, when preaching in
St. Paul’s, on some public occasion, instead of awakening admiration,
subjected him to a reproof which he felt very keenly. On returning home in
the evening, a poor man following him, gently pulled him by the sleeve of
his gown, and asked him if he were the gentleman who had preached that day
before my Lord Mayor. He answered he was “Sir,” said he, “I came with
earnest desires after the word of God, and hopes of getting some good to
my soul, but I was greatly disappointed, for I could not understand a
great deal of what you said,—you were quite above me.” The Doctor replied,
with tears in his eyes, “Friend, if I did not give you a sermon, you have
given me one.”(65) Massillon was one of the first French preachers who
abstained, in the pulpit, from the use of citations from profane authors.
In the first sermon of his “Petit Careme,” he has a quotation from
Sallust. But he does not name the author, nor does he give the words in
the original. He merely gives the meaning of them, introducing his
quotation in this manner, _as one of the ancients says_, “comme dit un
ancien.” This, it is believed, is the only instance of the kind that is to
be found in the sermons of that eloquent preacher.(66)
Some may be desirous to know how it was that a practice so different from
ours, and so much opposed to the good sense and the good taste of modern
times, was formerly so common, or by what arguments it was attempted to be
defended. Abraham Wright, one of the Fellows of St John the Baptist’s
College, Oxford, undertook this task. He published a book in 1656, under
this title, “Five Sermons in Five several Styles, or Waies of Preaching.”
These different ways of preaching were what he characterized as Bishop
Andrews’ way, Bishop Hall’s way, Dr. Maine and Mr. Cartwright’s way, the
Presbyterian way, and the Independent way. All of the sermons, with the
exception of the last, contain specimens of the “Babylonish dialect” of
the age. But this, in the estimation of Abraham Wright, was not their
least recommendation. “You are also taught from these leaves,” says
he,(67) “that secular learning is not so heathenish, but it may be made
Christian. Plato, and Socrates, and Seneca, were not of such a reprobate
sense, as to stand wholly excommunicate. The same man may be both a poet
and a prophet, a philosopher and an apostle. Virgil’s fancie was as high
as the Magi’s star, and might lead wise men in the West as clearly to
their Saviour, as that light did those Eastern sages. And so, likewise,
Seneca’s positions may become Saint Paul’s text; Aristotle’s metaphysicks
convince an atheist of a God, and his demonstrations prove Shiloes advent
to a Jew. That great apostle of the Gentiles had never converted those
nations, without the help of their own learning. It was the Gentiles
oratorie, yet not without the Holy Ghost’s rhetorick, that did almost
perswade Agrippa to be a Christian; and it was the Gentiles poetrie, but
not without a Deitie in the verse, that taught the Athenians to know an
unknown God. By which you see it is possible that Gamaliel’s feet may be a
step to an apostleship.” This failed to convince the pious editor of the
Works of the ever-memorable John Hales of Eaton, if ever he chanced to see
it. The learned prebendary, for the purpose of enforcing his arguments
against intemperance, chose to quote the concluding words of the Symposium
of Xenophon. Lord Hailes was of opinion that this was “improper in a
popular discourse,” and therefore he used the liberty to leave out the
quotation in his edition of the works of the author.
But this much may likewise be stated in behalf of Binning. He did not
engage, like some other preachers, his contemporaries, in nice critical
discussions, which could be appreciated, or understood, by none but
scholars like himself; and when he brought forth a classical quotation in
his sermons, if a literal translation did not accompany it, he took care
at least to put all who heard him in possession of the sentiment which it
contained. In this way, none of his hearers were left ignorant of what he
said, while the varied and attractive form in which the important truths
he inculcated were exhibited, may have recommended them to that portion of
his audience whose minds were more highly cultivated, among whom it is not
unlikely were some, who, on account of his fame, may have come to hear
him, more or less frequently, from the contiguous city and university.
When Binning quotes the sacred scriptures, it will be perceived he does
not always make use of the authorized version. In the Case of Conscience,
he appears to do this; but we find from the old manuscript already
referred to, that he sometimes contented himself with mentioning the
chapter and verse to which he wished to direct attention, without giving
the words. These, therefore, we may suppose, were added by the
transcriber, when the work was about to be printed. It was not till after
the death of the author that the nation generally can be said to have
adopted the translation of the scriptures which was completed in the reign
of King James, and which is now in common use. Before the introduction
into Scotland of what is called the Geneva Bible, the translation of
Tyndale and Coverdale was employed. This was superseded in a great measure
by the Geneva Bible, which was an English version of the scriptures that
was executed in Geneva in the year 1560, by Protestant refugees from
England. In the year 1575, the General Assembly required that every parish
kirk in Scotland should be provided with a copy of Bassandyne’s edition of
the Geneva Bible. The first edition of the present authorized version was
published in 1611. But as many preferred the Geneva Bible to it, the
former continued to maintain its place in Scotland for some time longer.
In Boyd’s “Last Battle of the Soul,” printed at Edinburgh in 1629, the
Geneva translation is used. It was likewise used by Dr. Balcanquhall in a
sermon which was preached by him in the presence of Charles the First, in
the year 1632, and published under the title of “The Honour of Christian
Churches, and the Necessitie of frequenting Divine Service, and Publike
Prayers in them.” And we learn from Dr. Lee, that so late as the year
1639, the celebrated Alexander Henderson, in preaching before the General
Assembly at Edinburgh, read a long text from the Geneva Bible, which, he
tells us, appears from the proceedings of that Assembly still extant in
manuscript.(68) About the time, however, when Binning began to preach, the
version now universally adopted seems to have become much more common.
Binning generally employs it. But he occasionally quotes from the Geneva
translation, and sometimes from memory. It is easy to conceive that, in
this transition state of the two versions, he may have been nearly equally
familiar with both, and unable from his recollection at the moment to
distinguish the words of the one from those of the other. We therefore
find, in point of fact, that when trusting to his memory, he quotes a
passage of scripture, he sometimes gives it, partly in the language of the
one, and partly in the language of the other translation. One of the texts
of his first sermon is Rom. xi. 36. The English reading of that text,
according to the Geneva version is, “For of him, and through him, and
_for_ him are all things;” but according to the authorized version, it is,
“For of him, and through him, and _to_ him are all things.” Any person,
however, who reads the sermon attentively, will be convinced, that when
the author wrote it, he must have had before him at the time, the Geneva
version, and not the other. “ ‘All things,’ says he(69) are of him, and
_for_ him; but man in a peculiar and proper way. As God in making of man,
was pleased of his goodness to stamp him with a character of his own
image—and in this he puts a difference between man and other creatures,
that he should have more plain and distinct engravings of divine majesty
upon him, which might show the glory of the workman,—so it appears that he
is in a singular way made _for_ God, as his last end. As he is set nearer
God, as the beginning and cause, than other creatures, so he is placed
nearer God as the end. All creatures are made _ultimo_, lastly, _for_ God,
yet they are all made _proxime_, nextly _for_ man.”
The sacred scriptures are the Christian teacher’s treasury. The knowledge
of these evinced by the young and interesting author, apprizes us that he
had carefully studied them, as his rule of faith and manners. But his
beautiful and appropriate illustrations were not derived from the Bible
alone. The stores of profane history, philosophy, and science, the
apologues and mythology of the ancients, were all made tributary to him.
His scholastic habits evidently gave a tinge to his discourses. When
perusing some of these, we could almost imagine we are listening to the
youthful Regent, while delivering, within the walls of the University of
Glasgow, his dictates to a class of admiring and enthusiastic students. We
are at once reminded of the “Professor of Philosophy,” for instance, when
we find him borrowing from Plato, and other ancient philosophers, such
names as these, applied by them “to the unknown God” αυτο ον,(70) αυτο
πνευμα,(71) and _primum intelligibile, et primum intelligens_,(72) when he
makes mention of “the astronomers” who “do cut and carve in their
imagination cycles, orbs, and epicycles, in the heavens, because of the
various and different appearances and motions of stars in them, whereas it
may be, really, there is but one celestial body in which all these various
lights and motions do appear,”(73) and when he tells us, that “if two
superficies were exactly plain and smooth, they could join so closely
together, that no air could come between them, and then they could hardly
be pulled asunder.”(74) All the while, however, it is evident that the
knowledge of the philosopher is made subservient to the nobler purposes of
the divine. The idea never occurs to us, that his secular learning is
produced for display, and not to give interest to a sacred subject, or to
furnish him with the means of explaining it.
The following extract will show the holy use to which the pious author
consecrated his knowledge of “physiology,” which, when a Regent he was
bound to teach, by the foundation charter of the University—“We can do
nothing except we have some pattern or copy before us, but now, upon this
ground which God hath laid man may fancy many superstructures. But when he
stretched out the heaven, and laid the foundation of the earth, ‘who,
being his counsellor taught him?’ At whom did his Spirit take counsel?
Certainly, none of all these things would have entered into the heart of
man to consider or contrive, Isa. xl. 12, 13. Some ruder spirits do gaze
upon the huge and prodigious pieces of the creation, as whales and
elephants, &c., but a wise Solomon will go to the school of the ant to
learn the wisdom of God, and choose out such a simple and mean creature
for the object of his admiration. Certainly there are wonders in the
smallest and most inconsiderable creatures which faith can contemplate. O
the curious ingenuity and draught of the finger of God, in the composition
of flies, bees, flowers, &c. Men ordinarily admire more some extraordinary
things, but the truth is, the whole course of nature is one continued
wonder, and that greater than any of the Lord’s works without the line.
The straight and regular line of the wisdom of God, who, in one constant
course and tenor, hath ordained the actions of all his creatures,
comprehends more wonders and mysteries, as the course of the sun, the
motion of the sea, the hanging of the earth in the empty place upon
nothing. These, we say, are the wonders indeed, and comprehend something
in them which all the wonders of Egypt and the wilderness cannot parallel.
But it is the stupid security of men, that are only awakened by some new
and unusual passages of God’s works beyond that straight line of
nature.”(75)
From an eloquent passage in his sermon on the text (1 John i. 5,) “God is
light,” it will likewise be seen that if Binning spoke, like a
philosopher, of the properties of light, his was the language of a
Christian philosopher—“The light is, as it were, a visible appearance of
the invisible God. He hath covered his invisible nature with this glorious
garment, to make himself in a manner visible to man. It is true, that
light is but, as it were, a shadow of that inaccessible light, _umbra
Dei_. It is the dark shadow of God, who is himself infinitely more
beautiful and glorious. But yet, as to us, it hath greater glory and
majesty in it, than any creature besides. It is the chief of the works of
God, without which the world would be without form and void. It is the
very beauty of the creation, that which gives lustre and amiableness to
all that is in it, without which the pleasantest paradise would become a
wilderness, and this beautiful structure, and adorned palace of the world,
a loathsome dungeon. Besides the admirable beauty of it, it hath a
wonderful swift conveyance throughout the whole world, the upper and
lower, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye. It is carried from the one
end of heaven to the other in a moment, and who can say by what way the
light is parted? Job xxxviii. 24. Moreover, it carries alongst with it a
beautiful influence, and a refreshing heat and warmness, which is the very
life and subsistence of all the creatures below. And so, as there is
nothing so beautiful, so nothing so universally and highly profitable. And
to all this, add that singular property of it, that it is not capable of
infection, it is of such absolute purity, that it can communicate itself
to the dunghill, as well as to the garden, without receiving any mixture
from it. In all the impurities it meets withal, it remains unmixed and
untainted, and preserves its own nature entire. Now you may perceive, that
there is nothing visible that is fitter to resemble the invisible God,
than this glorious, beautiful, pure, and universally communicable
creature, light.…
“Then add unto this, to make up the resemblance fuller, the bounty and
benignity of his influence upon the world, the flowings forth of his
infinite goodness, that enrich the whole earth. Look, as the sun is the
greatest and most universal benefactor,—his influence and heat is the very
renovation of the world. It makes all new, and green, and flourishing; it
puts a youth upon the world, and so is the very spring and fountain of
life to all sublunary things. How much is that true of the true light, of
the substantial, of whom this sun is but a shadow!…
“And to complete the resemblance more, there may be something of the
infallibility and incomprehensibility of the divine majesty here
represented. For though nothing be clearer than the light, yet there is
nothing in its own nature darker than light, that which is so manifest to
the eyes, how obscure is it to the understanding. Many debates and
inquiries have been about it, but yet it is not known what that is by
which we know all things. Certainly such is the divine light. It is
inconceivable and inexpressible, therefore is he said to dwell in light
inaccessible and full of glory, 1 Tim. vi. 16. There is a twofold darkness
that hinders us to see God, a darkness of ignorance in us, and a darkness
of inaccessible light in him. The one is a vail upon our hearts, which
blinds and darkens the souls of men, that they do not see that which is
manifest of God even in his works. O that cloud of unbelief that is spread
over our souls, which hinders the glorious rays of that divine light to
shine into them. This darkness Satan contributes much to, who is the
prince of darkness, 2 Cor. iv. 4. This makes the most part of souls like
dungeons within, when the glorious light of the gospel surrounds them
without. This earthliness and carnality of our hearts makes them like the
earth, receive only the light in the upper and outward superfice, and not
suffer it to be transmitted into our hearts to change them. But when it
pleaseth him, who at the first, by a word of power, commanded light to
shine out of darkness, he can scatter that cloud of ignorance, and draw
away the vail of unbelief, and can by his power and art, so transform the
soul, as to remove its earthly quality, and make it transparent and pure,
and then the light will shine into the heart, and get free access into the
soul. But though this darkness were wholly removed, there is another
darkness, that ariseth not from the want of light, but from the excessive
superabundance of light,—_caligo lucis nimiæ_, that is, a divine darkness,
a darkness of glory, such an infinite excess and superplus of light and
glory above all created capacities, that it dazzles and confounds all
mortal or created understandings. We see some shadows of this, if we look
up to the clear sun. We are able to see nothing for too much light. There
is such an infinite disproportion here between the eye of our mind, and
this divine light of glory, that if we curiously pry into it, it is rather
confounding and astonishing, and therefore it fills the souls of saints
with continual silent admiration and adoration.”(76)
The comparisons, employed by Binning, have sometimes a degree of
quaintness in them which is far from being displeasing, if it does not
heighten their effect, as when he observes of that Great Being, whose
thoughts are not as our thoughts, that he “speaks in our terms, and _like
nurses with their children_, uses our own dialect.”(77) He employs an
equally vivid, though somewhat quaint comparison, when he observes, that
“the best way to behold the sun, is to look at it _in a pail of water_,
and the surest way to know God by, is to take him up in a state of
humiliation and condescension, as the sun in the rainbow, in his words and
works, which are mirrors of the divine power and goodness, and do reflect
upon the hearts and eyes of all men the beams of that uncreated
light.”(78) We are offended, however, with the homeliness of such
expressions as these, “sin’s ugly face,”(79) “our legs are cut off by
sin,”(80) “the legs of the soul,”(81) men opposing God are “like dogs
barking at the moon,”(82) “the pull of the Father’s arm,”(83) the
Christian is “on speaking terms with God,”(84) “he drives a trade with
heaven,”(85) Christ “took up a shop, as it were, in our flesh, that he
might work in us.”(86) Nevertheless, an obvious excuse suggests itself to
us for the employment, by the author, of these, and such like familiar
expressions, which are besides of singularly rare occurrence in his
writings. The great object which a Christian minister, like Binning, will
constantly propose to himself, when addressing his people, will be, to
make himself useful to them. But he knows he cannot be useful, without
being intelligible to his audience. He is thus led sometimes to lower his
style, as well as to simplify his ideas, that he may reach the
understandings and hearts of the youngest and the most illiterate among
his hearers. This was evidently Binning’s case. To the least intelligent
of those whom he addressed, he sometimes spoke in their own dialect, or,
to adopt his own comparison, “like nurses with their children.” In so far
as he did this, he followed the maxim of the great German Reformer. _Hi
sunt optimi ad populum concionatores_, said Luther, _qui pueriliter,
populariter, et quam simplicis sime docent_. “They are the best preachers
to the people, who teach them in a plain, familiar, and perfectly simple
way.”
A preacher, however, who is desirous to make his instructions exceedingly
simple, is in danger of bringing his language too low, or of expressing
himself in a manner which may not please persons of refined taste. His own
good sense will teach him to avoid this if possible. But in the hurry of
writing or speaking, he may not always succeed. When this happens, the
fault into which he has been betrayed ought to be overlooked by those who
are aware, that the business of a minister of Christ is not to interest
merely, but to convince, not to afford pleasure, but to enlighten,
reclaim, and admonish, “rightly dividing the word of truth.”
It is right that the reader should know what changes have in the present
edition been made upon the text of the author. To make the work as perfect
as possible, it has been carefully collated with the earliest editions
which could be procured of his different writings. From his style being so
much in advance of that of his countrymen in general, at the time he
lived, it may be supposed that his language has been modernised to a
considerable extent. But such is not the fact. The orthography has been
altered. Greater attention than formerly has been paid to the punctuation.
This was so defective in many places, as completely to obscure and pervert
the meaning of the author. The references to scripture have also been
corrected in numerous instances. But beyond this, nothing almost whatever
has been done, with the exception of the occasional emendation of what,
according to existing rules, would now be considered an ungrammatical
expression, or the substitution of a modern word for one that was obsolete
or provincial. The text itself, however, will show that very few changes
indeed of this description have been ventured upon. It was thought better,
for various reasons, that the author should be allowed to speak in his own
familiar tongue, than that he should be transformed into a modern
preacher. The remodelling of his style might have made it more agreeable
to some readers, but it would no longer have been the style of Binning,
nor characteristic of his age and country. His language, moreover, would
have lost much of its raciness in the attempt to mellow it.
An explanation of such words as have been employed by Binning, and are not
now in common use, or generally understood beyond the limits of Scotland,
has been given in the Notes. Many of his Latin quotations, when not
translated by himself, have likewise been explained, and verified, and
their authors pointed out. This, it is confessed, has been a very irksome
and laborious undertaking. As the classical quotations of the author, like
his quotations from scripture, have not unfrequently been made from
memory, the difficulty of tracing them to their proper sources was thereby
much increased. The necessary books were not always at hand to consult,
and even when these were obtained, it was sometimes found to be
impossible, after the most patient research, to discover the place where
the saying of some ancient writer was concealed. There are few notes
comparatively attached to the first part of the work, as the printing of
it commenced sooner than was expected. To supply this defect, some
_Notanda_ have been inserted after the Life of the Author.
But in addition to some of the classical quotations of the author, various
historical allusions required to be elucidated, along with certain obscure
references to passing events, and the opinions and proceedings of
different sects and parties. It is not pretended that every thing of this
kind has had light thrown upon it. But I can say this much with
confidence, that it has been my constant endeavour to discover the latent
or partially disclosed meaning of the author, and to give to the candid
reader the benefit of my researches, and of any knowledge, which, in
consequence of my position, I possessed, of a minister of the Church of
Scotland, of whom I deem it no small honour to have been a successor.
* * * * *
When this edition of the works of the Rev. Hugh Binning had nearly passed
through the press, the Editor had unexpectedly put into his hands a
manuscript volume of the sermons of the author. About fifty of these, he
finds, on examination, have never been printed, most of which have been
transcribed by the Rev. Robert Macward, whose handwriting is perfectly
well known. The remaining part of the volume contains the forty sermons on
the eighth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, entitled “The Sinner’s
Sanctuary.” These are believed to be in the handwriting of Binning
himself. There can be no doubt whatever that this is the manuscript volume
in folio, which is described in the preface to “Several Sermons upon the
most important Subjects of Practical Religion,” dated “Brousterland, Sept.
12th, 1760.” It is there said to have been for “many years concealed in
the library of John Graham, a pious and learned man, much abstracted from
the world, who was a near relation of Mr. M’Ward’s, with a large
collection of Mr. M’Ward’s own papers, which are yet among the curious and
large collection of manuscripts, that were left by Mr. Wodrow, the author
of the History of the Sufferings of this Church, to his sons” (Pp. xix,
xx.). The writer of that preface also tells us, that he had in his
possession a “quarto volume” of manuscript sermons, belonging to Binning.
The Editor has not been able to ascertain what has become of this latter
volume; nor can any thing be learned of the “Course of Philosophy,” which
the author of Binning’s Life, states, he was assured was in the hands of a
gentleman in Edinburgh, at the time he wrote that Life, which was about
the year 1735. (See Life of the Author, p. liv.) The sermons which have
not hitherto been printed, and which are contained in the manuscript
volume now brought to light, may be expected to be given to the world at
no distant period.
THE LIFE OF MR. HUGH BINNING.
There being a great demand for the several books that are printed under
Mr. Binning’s name, it was judged proper to undertake a new and correct
impression of them in one volume. This being done, the publishers were
much concerned to have the life of such an useful and eminent minister of
Christ written, in justice to his memory, and his great services in the
work of the gospel, that it might go along with this impression. We living
now at so great distance from the time wherein he made a figure in the
world, must be at a considerable loss in giving an exact and particular
relation. However, his pious and exemplary life may in some measure be
known from his writings; and for this end, a great many bright passages
might be gathered out of them, which would raise his character highly in
the eyes of all good men; for the Rev. Mr. Robert M’Ward, minister in
Glasgow, observed, “That his life was his sermons put in print, by which
means they who did forget what he had said in the pulpit, by seeing what
he did in his conversation might remember what they had forgot; he lived
as he spoke, and spoke as he lived.” All due pains have been taken to
procure proper materials, and good vouchers of the following narration.
Some few things are learned from the prefaces prefixed to his several
pieces, by worthy and able divines, who revised and published them; more
accounts of him were furnished by persons of great credit, on whose
veracity we can safely rely. But the most remarkable passages in his life
are happily preserved, in a letter written by Mr. M’Ward,(87) to the Rev.
Mr. James Coleman,(88) sometime minister at Sluys in Flanders. The writer
of his life must in the entry confess that his part is so small, that he
can scarce assume any thing to himself, but the procuring the materials
from others, the copying out of those things that were of any moment, and
disposing them in the best and most natural order he could think of;
having studied the strictness of a severe historian, without helping out
things with his invention or setting them off by a rhetorical style of
language. Nay, all that is contained in Mr. M. Ward’s large letter
concerning him, is told almost in his very words with a little variation
of the order wherein he had placed the same, omitting the many long
digressions on several subjects which that worthy person judged fit to
insist upon, taking occasion from what he had noticed concerning Mr.
Binning to enlarge on the same.
John Binning of Dalvennan was married to Margaret M’Kell, a daughter of
Mr. Matthew M’Kell,(89) minister at Bothwell, and sister to Mr. Hugh
M’Kell.(90) one of the ministers of Edinburgh; he had by her Mr. Hugh and
Alexander. The father was possessed of no inconsiderable estate in the
shire of Ayr, for Mr. Hugh having died before his father, John, the only
son of Mr. Hugh, was served heir to his grandfather in the lands of
Dalvennan. Alexander, the second son, who died about ten years ago, got
the lands of Machrimore, and was married to a daughter of Alexander
Crawford of Kerse, and is succeeded therein by his son John Binning, at
present a writer in Edinburgh.
The worldly circumstances of the grandfather being so good, he was thereby
enabled to give his son Hugh a liberal education, the good and desirable
effects of which appeared very early upon him; the greatness of his spirit
and capacity gave his parents good ground to conceive the pleasant hope of
his being a promising child. When he was at the grammar school, he made so
great proficiency in the knowledge of the Latin tongue, and Roman authors,
that he outstripped his condisciples, even such as were some years older
than himself. When his fellow schoolboys went to their play and diversion,
he declined their society, and choosed to employ himself, either in secret
duty with God, or conference with religious people. His pastime was to
recreate himself in this manner. He had an aversion to sports, games, and
other diversions, not from any moroseness, or melancholy of temper, being
rather of an affable, cheerful and debonair disposition, but thinking that
time was too precious to be lavished away in these things. Religion and
religious exercises were his choice, and the time he had to spare from his
studies he spent that way. He began to have sweet familiarity with God,
and to live in near communion with him, before others began seriously to
lay to heart their lost and undone condition by nature, and that
additional misery they expose themselves to, by walking in a wicked way
and sinful course. When he arrived at the thirteenth or fourteenth year of
his age, he had even then attained so much experience in the ways of God,
that the most judicious and exercised Christians in the place confessed
they were much edified, strengthened, and comforted by him, nay, that he
provoked them to diligence in the duties of religion, being abundantly
sensible that they were much outrun by a youth.
Before he was fourteen years old, he entered upon the study of philosophy
in the university of Glasgow, wherein he made very considerable progress,
and with as much facility outstripped his fellow students, as he had done
his condisciples in the Latin school, by which means, he came to be taken
notice of in the college by the professors and students. And at the same
time that he made proficiency in the liberal sciences, he advanced
remarkably in religion. The abstruse depths of philosophy, which are the
torture of slow engines and weak capacities, he dived into without any
trouble or pain. And notwithstanding his surprising attainments and
improvements, his great acumen and ready apprehension of things, whereby
he was able to do more in one hour, than others in some days by hard study
and close application, and though on these accounts he was much respected
by the eminent ministers of the city, and learned professors of the
university, yet was he ever humble, never exalted above measure, nor
swelled with the tympany of pride and self conceit, the common foible and
disease of young men of any greatness of spirit.
So soon as he had finished his course of philosophy, he was made Master of
Arts(91) with great applause, and having furnished his mind with an
uncommon measure of the ancillary knowledge of letters, he began the study
of divinity, with a view to serve God in the holy ministry. At which time
there happened to be a vacancy in the college of Glasgow, by the
resignation of Mr. James Dalrymple of Stair, who had been Mr. Binning’s
Master. This gentleman was so great and so good a man, that it is
impossible to avoid giving an account of some of the remarkable things of
his life. The first employment he had, was in the army, being a captain in
William Earl of Glencairn’s regiment of foot; but as he had made his
studies with great application, at the earnest request of the professors
of the university of Glasgow, he stood as candidate for a chair of
philosophy, in a comparative trial, (in buff and scarlet, the military
dress of those days,) to which he was with great applause preferred. In
this station he was greatly esteemed for his uncommon abilities in
philosophy, and other parts of learning. But being resolved to follow the
study of the law, he soon resigned his office of professor, and entered
Advocate upon the 7th of February, 1648; and quickly distinguished himself
by his pleadings before the Court of Session, avoiding always to take any
employment, either as advocate, or judge, in criminal matters, though
often respectively pressed to accept of both; which proceeded from a
delicacy in his opinion, lest, to wit, he might possibly be the instrument
either of making the innocent suffer, or to acquit the guilty. In this
situation he continued, till the Tender was imposed, when he, with many
other eminent lawyers, withdrew from the bar. On June 26th, 1657, he was,
by a commission signed by General Monk,(92) in name of the Protector’s
council of Scotland, appointed to be one of the Judges, which was soon
confirmed by a nomination directly from the Protector himself, in the
month of July thereafter, which he had no inclination to accept of, being
himself no favourer of the usurpation. For as he had been secretary to the
commission which had been sent to the king to Breda, he had waited upon
his majesty upon his landing in the North. However, being importunately
pressed to accept by many eminent men, and amongst them by several
ministers, who all distinguished between his serving as one of the Council
under the Protector, and exercising the office of a Judge, by
administrating justice to his fellow subjects, he did accept, and his act
of admission only bears his giving his oath, _de fideli administratione_.
After the Restoration, he was made by the king one of the ordinary Lords
of Session, by his majesty’s nomination, dated at Whitehall, February
13th, 1661-2. And in the year 1671, he was created President of that
Court, in the room of Sir John Gilmour of Craigmiller. In the parliament
1681, he made a great appearance for securing the Protestant religion, and
by reason of the difficulties of the times, he desired leave of his
majesty to retire from business, and live quietly in the country. But in
this he was prevented by a commission, dated the 14th of October, 1681,
which having passed the great seal, was produced the 1st of November
thereafter, by which commission he was superseded as President of the
Session, and in the year 1682, was obliged for his safety to retire to
Holland. For though he had the king’s promise that he should live
undisturbed, yet he was let know that he could not be in safety, and after
his retreat to Holland, several unjust but fruitless attempts were made to
have him tried for treason, both before the parliament and justiciary, for
no other reason than that he had always with sincerity and firmness, given
his opinion to the king and his ministers, against the measures that were
then followed, and which in the following reign, at length brought about
the glorious Revolution, at which time, anno 1668, he attended King
William in that expedition, by the success of which we were most happily
delivered from tyranny and slavery. On November 1st, 1689, Sir James
Dalrymple of Stair, his letter as President of the Session was produced
and recorded, and he was accordingly admitted and restored to his office.
In the year 1690 he was created a Viscount upon account of his great
services and merit. He published, while in Holland, his Institutions of
the law of Scotland, (a more full edition of which came out in 1693,) and
two volumes in folio, of Decisions, from the year 1661, to 1681 inclusive.
He also published a system of physics,(93) valued greatly at the time. And
a book entitled, A Vindication of the divine attributes, was also his, in
which there is discovered great force of argument and knowledge. He was
looked upon before his death, as the living oracle of our law, and at
present his Institutions are appealed to, as containing the true and solid
principles of it.(94)
Mr. Binning, who had lately been his scholar, was determined after much
entreaty, (of which we shall presently give an account,) to stand as a
candidate for that post. The Masters of the college, according to the
usual laudable custom, emitted a programme, and sent it to all the
universities in the kingdom, inviting such as had a mind to dispute for a
profession of philosophy, to sist themselves before them, and offer
themselves to compete for that preferment, giving assurance that without
partiality and respect of persons, the place should be conferred upon him
who should be found _dignior et doctior_.
The Ministers of the city of Glasgow considering how much it was the
interest of the Church, that well qualified persons be put into the
profession of philosophy, and that Universities by this means become most
useful seminaries for the Church; and that such as had served as Regents
in the college, were ordinarily brought out to the ministry, who, as the
Divinity chairs became vacant, were advanced to that honour,—many
instances of which I am able to condescend upon, and they knowing that Mr.
Binning was eminently pious, and one of a solid judgment, as well as of a
bright genius, set upon him to sist himself among the other competitors,
but had great difficulty to overcome his modesty. However, they at last
prevailed with him to declare, before the Masters, his willingness to
undertake the dispute with others.
There were two candidates more, one of them had the advantage of great
interest with Doctor Strang, principal of the college at that time, and
the other a scholar of great abilities, and of the same sentiments with
the Doctor, in some problematical points of divinity, which with great
subtilty had been debated in the schools. Mr. Binning so managed the
dispute and acquitted himself in all the parts of trial, that to the
conviction of the judges he very much darkened his rivals. And as to the
precise point of qualification, in respect of literature, cut off all
shadow of a demur and pretence of difficulty in the decision. However, the
Doctor and some of the Faculty who joined him, though they could not
pretend that the candidate they appeared for, had an equality, much less a
superiority in the dispute, yet they argued, a _cœteris paribus_, that the
person they inclined to prefer, being a citizen & son, having a good
competency of learning, and being a person of more years, had greater
experience than Mr. Binning could be supposed to have, and consequently
was more fit to be a teacher of youth. Mr. Binning being but yesterday a
fellow student with those he was to teach, it was not to be expected, that
the students would behave to him with that respect and regard which should
be paid to a master. But to this it was replied, that Mr. Binning was such
a pregnant scholar, so wise and sedate as to be above all the follies and
vanities of youth, that he knew very well how to let no man despise his
youth, his wit was neither vain nor light, and his fancy was obedient to
his reason, and what was wanting in years was sufficiently made up by his
singular endowments, and more than ordinary qualifications. A Member of
the Faculty, perceiving the struggle among them to be great (and indeed
the affair seemed to have been argued very plausibly on both sides),
proposed a dispute between the two candidates extempore, upon any subject
they should be pleased to prescribe. This being considered by the Faculty,
did quickly put a period to the division among them, and those who had
opposed him not being willing to engage their friend again in the lists,
with such an able antagonist, yielded the question, and Mr. Binning was
elected.(95)
Mr. Binning was not full nineteen years of age, when he commenced Regent
and Professor of Philosophy,(96) and though he had not time to prepare a
system of any part of his profession, being instantly after his election
to take up his class, yet such was the quickness and fertility of his
invention, the tenaciousness of his memory, and the solidity of his
judgment, that his dictates(97) to the scholars had a great depth of
learning of that kind, and perspicuity of expression. And I am assured,
that he was among the first in Scotland that began to reform Philosophy
from the barbarous terms, and unintelligible distinctions of the
schoolmen, and the many vain disputes and trifling subtilties, which
rather perplexed the minds of the youth, than furnished them with solid
and useful knowledge.(98)
He continued in this profession for the space of three years, and
discharged his trust so well, that he gained the general applause of the
university for his academical exercises. And this was the more wonderful,
that having turned his thoughts towards the ministry, he carried on his
theological studies at the same time, and made vast improvements therein,
to which he was enabled, by his deep penetration, and a memory so
retentive, that he scarcely forgot any thing he had read or heard. It was
easy and ordinary for him to transcribe any sermon, after he returned to
his chamber, at such a full length, as that the intelligent and judicious
reader who heard it preached should not find one sentence to be wanting.
During this period of his life, he gave a proof and evidence of the great
progress he had made in the knowledge of Divinity, by a composure on that
choice passage of the Holy Scripture, 2 Cor. v. 14, “For the love of God
constraineth us, because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then
were all dead.”
This performance he sent to a certain gentlewoman for her private
edification, who had been detained at Edinburgh for a long time with
business of importance, and having perused the same, she judged it was a
sermon of some eminent minister in the West of Scotland, and put it into
the hands of the then Provost of Edinburgh for his opinion, who was so
well satisfied with it, that supposing it to be taken from the mouth of
one whom the city had formerly resolved to call, was restless till a call
was brought about to him, to be one of the ministers of the city. But when
the lady returned back to Glasgow, she found her mistake, by Mr. Binning’s
asking the discourse from her. This was the first discovery he had given
of his great dexterity and ability in explaining of Scripture. At the
expiration of his third year as a professor of philosophy, the parish of
Govan, which lies adjacent to the city of Glasgow, and is within the
bounds of that presbytery, happened to be vacant. Before this time,(99)
whoever was principal of the college of Glasgow, was also minister of
Govan. For Mr. Robert Boyd of Trochrigg,(100) (a person of very great
learning, as his commentary on the Epistle to the Ephesians, and his
_Hecatombe Christiana_ testify) after he had been minister at Vertuille in
France, and professor of Divinity in Saumur, returned to Scotland, and was
settled principal of the college, and minister of Govan. But this being
attended with inconveniences, an alteration was made, and the presbytery
having a view of supplying that vacancy with Mr. Binning, did take him
upon trials, in order to his being licensed as a preacher(101) and after
he was licensed, he did preach at Govan, to the great satisfaction of that
people. Mr. Binning was sometime after called and invited to be minister
of the said parish, which call the presbytery heartily approved of, and
entered him upon trials for ordination, about the 22d year of his age, and
as a part of trials, they prescribed to him a common head, _De concursu et
influxu divino cum actionibus creaturarum_,—the occasion of which was,
that Dr. Strang, principal of the College, and a member of the presbytery,
had vented some peculiar notions upon that profound subject. And having
delivered a very elaborate discourse, _viva voce_, to the admiration of
all who heard it, he gave in, according to custom, his thesis to be
impugned by the members of the presbytery, which was the direct antithesis
of Doctor Strang’s opinion in his dictates to the students on that
controversy. The Doctor being pitched upon to be one of his opponents,
found his credit and reputation much engaged, and exerted his metaphysical
and subtile talent on that occasion. But Mr. Binning maintained his ground
by the weight and solidity of his defence, to the great satisfaction of
all that were present, so that some were pleased to say, that young Mr.
Binning appeared to be the old learned Doctor; Nay, the Doctor himself
after the recounter, admiring Mr Binning’s abilities and parts, said,
“Where hath this young man got all this learning and reading?”.(102) When
he had finished his trials, he had the unanimous approbation of the
presbytery, nay, their declaration and testimony of his fitness to be one
of the ministers of the city, upon the first vacancy. And I am assured,
that at the very same time the Masters of the University had it in their
view to bring him back again to their society, whenever the profession of
Divinity should become vacant.
He was, considering his age, a prodigy of learning, for before he had
arrived at the 26th year of his life, he had such a large stock of useful
knowledge, as to be philologus, philosophus, and theologus præstans,(103)
and might well have been an ornament to the most famous and flourishing
university in Europe. This was the more astonishing, if we consider his
weakness and infirmity of body, not being able to read much at one time,
or to undergo the fatigue of assiduous study. But this was well supplied,
partly by a memory that retained every thing he heard or read, and partly
by a solid penetrating judgment, whereby he digested it well, and made it
his own, so that with a singular dexterity, he could bring it forth
seasonably, and communicate it to the use and advantage of others, drained
from the dregs he found about it, or intermixed with it; insomuch that his
knowledge seemed rather to be born with him, than to have been acquired by
hard and laborious study.
From his childhood he knew the Scriptures, and from a boy had been under
much deep and spiritual exercise, until the time (or a little before it)
of his entry upon the office of the ministry, when he came to a great calm
and lasting tranquillity of mind, being mercifully relieved of all those
doubtings which had for a long time greatly exercised him, and though he
was of a tender and weakly constitution, yet love to Christ, and a concern
for the good of precious souls committed to him, constrained him to such
diligence in feeding the flock, as to spend himself in the work of the
ministry. It was observed of him, that he was not much averse at any time
from embracing an invitation to preach before the most experienced
Christians, even the learned professors of the university, and the
Reverend ministers of the city, and when one of his most intimate friends
noticed herein a difference from that modesty and self denial, which
appeared in the whole of his way and conduct, he took the freedom to ask
him, how he came to be so easily prevailed with to preach before persons
of so great experience and judgment, whose eminent gifts and graces he
highly valued and esteemed? He made this excellent reply, that when he had
a clear call to mention his blessed Master’s name in any place, he had no
more to say, but, “Here am I, send me. What am I that I should resist his
heavenly call? And when he, whose name is holy and reverend, is spoken of
and to, and is there present, the presence of no other person is to be
regarded or dreaded, and under that impression, I forget who is present,
and who is absent.”
Though he was bookish, and much intent upon the fulfilling of his
ministry, he turned his thoughts to marriage, and did marry a virtuous and
excellent person, Mistress Barbara Simpson,(104) daughter of Mr. James
Simpson, a minister in Ireland.(105) Upon the day on which he was to be
married, he went accompanied with his friends (amongst whom were some
grave and worthy ministers) to an adjacent country congregation, upon the
day of their weekly sermon. The minister of the parish(106) delayed sermon
till they should come, hoping to put the work upon one of the ministers he
expected to be there. But all of them declining it, he next tried if he
could prevail with the bridegroom, and succeeded, though the invitation
was not expected, and the nature of the occasion seemed to be somewhat
alien from his being employed in that work. It was no difficult task to
him upon a short warning to preach, having a prompt and ready gift. He was
never at a loss for words and matter, and having stepped aside a little
time to premeditate and implore his Master’s presence and assistance (for
he was ever afraid to be alone in that work) he went immediately to the
pulpit, and preached upon 1 Pet i. 15 “But as he who hath called you is
holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation.” At which time, he was
so remarkably helped, that all acknowledged that God was with him of a
truth. And the people of the parish, who had come to hear their own
minister, (a truly pious and excellent man,) were so surprised and taken
with him, as if God, besides his ordinary resident (so Mr. McWard
expresses it) had sent them an extraordinary ambassador to negotiate a
peace between God and them, and a prompt paranymph unto, and a skilful
suitor of a spouse for Jesus Christ the blessed Bridegroom, that he might
present them as a chaste virgin to this divine Husband.
However he studied in his public discourses to condescend to the capacity
of the meaner sort of hearers, yet it must be owned, that his preaching
gift was not so much accommodated and suited to a country congregation, as
it was to the judicious and learned. (107) The subjects of sermons are so
numerous and various, and the order of men’s disposing of their thoughts
upon these subjects so different, that a suit of clothes may be as soon
made to answer every man’s back, as a fixed and invariable method may be
prescribed, that shall agree to every subject, and every man’s taste. Mr.
Binning’s method was singular and peculiar to himself, much after the
haranguing way.(108) He was no stranger to the rules of art, and knew well
how to make his method subservient to the subjects he handled. And though
he tells not his discourse has so many parts, yet it wanted not method, it
being _mani __ mum artis celare artem_.(109) His diction and language is
easy and fluent, neat and fine, void of all affectation and bombast. His
style is free from starch lusciousness and intricacy, every period has a
kind of undesigned negligent elegance, which arrests the reader’s
attention, and makes what he says as apples of gold set in pictures of
silver, so that, considering the time when he lived, it might be said,
that he had carried the orator’s prize from his cotemporaries in Scotland,
and was not at that time inferior to the best pulpit orators in England,
the English language having got its greatest embellishments and refinings
but of late years. In his Sermons, his matter gives life to his words, and
his words add a lustre to his matter. That great divine, Mr. James
Durham,(110) an excellent judge of men, gave this verdict of him, that
“there is no speaking after Mr. Binning,” and truly he had the tongue of
the learned, and knew how to speak a word in season. The subject-matter of
his Sermons is mostly practical, and yet rational and argumentive, fit to
inform the understanding of his hearers, and move their affections and
when controversies come in his way, he shows great acuteness and judgment
in discussing and determining them, and no less skill in applying them to
practice. His discourses are so solid and substantial, so heavenly and
sublime, that they not only feed but feast the reader, as with marrow and
fatness. In the most of them, we meet with much of the sublime, expressed
in a most lofty, pathetic, and moving manner. Mr. M’Waid says in his
letter, “That as to the whole of Mr. Binning’s writings, I know no man’s
pen on the heads he hath handled more adapted for edification, or which,
with a pleasant violence, will sooner find or force a passage into the
heart of a judicious experienced reader, and cast fire, even ere he is
aware (O happy surprise!) into his affections, and set them into a flame.”
And in another part of the same letter, he says, “The subjects he
discourses upon are handled with such a pleasant and profitable variety of
thought and expression, that the hearer or reader is taken with it, as if
he had never met with it before. He was such a skilful scribe, as knew how
to bring out of his store things new and old; the old with such sweetness
and savour as it seemed still new, and the new retained its first
sweetness so as never to grow old.”
He and some young ministers in the same presbytery, who had been students
of divinity when he was professor of philosophy, did keep private meetings
for Christian fellowship, and their mutual improvement. But finding that
he was in danger of being puffed up with the high opinion they had of him,
he broke up these meetings, though he still kept up a brotherly
correspondence with them, for the rigorous prosecution of their
ministerial work. He studied to be clothed with humility, and to hide his
attainments under that veil. Though he wanted not matter and words
wherewith to please and profit all his hearers, yet at every thought of
his appearing in public to speak of God and Christ to men, his soul was
filled with a holy tremor, which he vented by saying, “Ah! Lord, I am a
child and cannot speak. Teach me what I shall say of thee, who cannot
order my speech by reason of darkness.” In his first Sermon, on the fourth
question of our Shorter Catechism, he expresses himself in a most elegant
and rapturous manner. “We are now,” says he, “about this question, What
God is? But who can answer it? Or if answered, who can understand it? It
should astonish us in the very entry, to think we are about to speak and
to hear of his majesty, ‘whom eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,’ nor hath
it entered into the heart of any creature to consider what he is. Think
ye, blind men could understand a pertinent discourse of light and colours?
Would they form any suitable notion of that they had never seen, and
cannot be known but by seeing? What an ignorant speech would a deaf man
make of sound, when a man cannot so much as know what it is, but by
hearing of it? How then can we speak of God who dwells in inaccessible
light, since though we had our eyes opened, yet they are far less
proportioned to that resplendent brightness, than a blind eye is to the
sun’s light?”
He was a great student in the books of creation and providence, and took
much pleasure in meditating upon what is written in these volumes. The
wonders he discovered in both, led him up to the infinitely wise and
powerful Maker and Preserver of all things. Once, when he came to visit a
gentleman of good learning, and his intimate acquaintance, the gentleman
took him to his garden, and in their walk he discoursed with him to his
great surprise of the objective declarations, which every thing makes of
its Almighty Creator and talked of the wisdom and goodness of God,
particularly in clothing the earth with a green garb, rather than with a
garment of any other colour, and having plucked a flower from it, he made
a most savoury spiritual discourse. He so dissected and anatomized the
same, as to set forth the glorious perfections of its Maker in a most
taking and entertaining manner.
But the main object of his pious and devout contemplations was God in
Christ reconciling the world to himself. For God who commanded the light
to shine out of darkness, had shined into his heart to give him the light
of the knowledge of God, in the face of Jesus Christ, so that he not only
understood the mysteries of the kingdom of God himself, but it was given
to him to make others know them. His preaching was in the demonstration of
the Spirit, and of power. His Sermons are the very transcript of what had
past betwixt God and his own soul. He spoke and wrote his experimental
knowledge, and did both speak and write because he believed He did
earnestly contend for the articles of faith and truths of religion, and
could never think of parting with one hoof, or the least grain of truth,
being persuaded, that Christian concord must have truth for its
foundation, and holiness for its attendant, without which it will decline
into a defection, and degenerate into a conspiracy against religion. As to
the duties of Christianity, he enforced the performance of these with all
the arguments of persuasion, so that, through the blessing of God, his
pulpit discourses became the power of God to the illumination of the
understandings of his hearers, the renovation of their natures, the
reformation of their lives, and the salvation of their souls.
The difficult part of a reprover he acted in the most prudent and gaining
manner, when he did lick with his tongue the mote out of his brother’s
eye, he did it with all tenderness, and with the tear in his own. His
words wanted neither point nor edge for drawing the blood, when the case
of the offender made it an indispensable duty; and when he was
necessitated to use sharpness with any, they were convinced that he
honestly and sincerely intended their spiritual good. His compassion on
the ignorant and them that were out of the way, made it evident how much
he considered himself as encompassed with infirmities, and so within the
hazard of being tempted.
He was a person of exemplary moderation and sobriety of spirit, had
healing methods much at heart, and studied to promote love and peace among
his brethren in the ministry. He vigorously contributed to the recovery of
the humanity of Christianity, which had been much lost in the differences
of the times, and the animosities which followed thereupon. These virtues
and graces had such an ascendant in his soul, that when he carried coals
about with him, taken from the altar to warm the souls of all, with whom
he conversed, with love to God, his truths, interests and people, so he
carried sanctuary water about with him to cool and extinguish what of
undue passion he perceived to accompany the zeal of good and well
designing persons; a temper that is rarely found in one of his age. But
ripe harvest grapes were found upon this vine in the beginning of spring;
and no wonder, since he lived so near the Sun of Righteousness, and lay
under the plentiful showers of divine grace, and the ripening influences
of the Holy Spirit.
The prevailing of the English sectarians under Oliver Cromwell, to the
overthrow of the Presbyterian interest in England, and the various
attempts which they made in Scotland, on the constitution and discipline
of this church, was one of the greatest difficulties which the ministry
had then to struggle with. Upon this he made the following most excellent
reflection, in a Sermon preached on a day of public humiliation, “What if
the Lord hath defaced all that his kingdom was instrumental in building up
in England, that he alone may have the glory in a second temple more
glorious?”(111) And when he observed, that the zeal of many for the Solemn
League and Covenant, (by which they were sworn to endeavour the
preservation of the reformed religion in Scotland, and the reformation of
religion in the kingdoms of England and Ireland,) was not attended with a
suitable amendment of their own lives, he takes up a bitter lamentation
over them in a very remarkable paragraph. “Alas! we deceive ourselves with
the noise of a covenant, and a cause of God, we cry it up as an antidote
against all evils, use it as a charm, even as the Jews did their temple,
and in the mean time we do not care how we walk before God, or with our
neighbours. Well, thus saith the Lord, ‘Trust ye not in lying words,
saying, The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the
Lord are these. For if ye throughly amend your ways and your doings, if ye
throughly execute judgment between a man and his neighbour; if ye oppress
not the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, and shed not innocent
blood in this place, neither walk after other gods to your hurt,’ &c. Jer.
vii. 4-6. If drunkenness reign among you, if filthiness, swearing,
oppression, cruelty reign among you, your covenant is but a lie, all your
professions are but lying words, and shall never keep you in your
inheritances and dwellings. The Lord tells you what he requires of you, is
it not to do justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly with God? Mic. vi. 8.
This is that which the grace of God teaches, to deny ‘ungodliness and
worldly lusts,’ and to ‘live soberly, righteously, and godly,’ towards
God, your neighbour, and yourself, Tit. ii. 11, 12, and this he prefers to
your public ordinances, your fasting, covenanting, preaching, and such
like.”(112)
When the unhappy distinction betwixt the public Resolutioners and
Protesters(113) took place in this church. Mr. Binning was of the last
denomination. This distinction proved to be of fatal consequences. He saw
some of the evils of it in his own time, and being of a catholic and
healing spirit, with a view to the cementing of differences, he wrote an
excellent Treatise of Christian love,(114) which contains very strong and
pathetic passages, most apposite to this subject, some of which we will
afterwards have occasion to quote. He was no fomenter of faction, but
studious of the public tranquillity. He was a man of moderate principles
and temperate passions. He was far from being confident, or vehement in
the managing of public affairs, never imposing or overbearing upon others,
but willingly hearkened to advice, and yielded to reason.
After he had laboured four years in the ministry, serving God with his
spirit in the gospel of his Son, whom he preached, warning every man and
teaching every man in great ministerial wisdom and freedom, that he might
present every man perfect in Christ Jesus—whereunto he laboured, strong
according to his working, which wrought in him mightily,—;he died of a
consumption, when he was scarce come to the prime and vigour of life,
entering on the twenty sixth year of his age, leaving behind him a sweet
savour after he was gone, and an epistle of commendation upon the hearts
of his hearers. While he lived, he was highly valued and esteemed, having
been a successful instrument of saving himself and them that heard him, of
turning sinners unto righteousness, and of perfecting the saints, and died
much lamented by all good people, who had the opportunity and advantage of
knowing him. He was a person of singular piety, of a humble, meek, and
peaceable temper, a judicious and lively preacher, nay, so extraordinary a
person, that he was justly accounted a prodigy for the pregnancy of his
natural parts, and his great proficiency in human learning, and knowledge
of divinity. He was too shining a light to shine long and burned so
intensely that he was soon put out. But he now shines in the kingdom of
his Father, in a more conspicuous and refulgent manner, even as the
brightness of the firmament, and as the stars for ever and ever.
The last Sermons he preached were those on Rom. viii. 14, 15: “For as many
as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God. For ye have not
received the spirit of bondage again to fear, but ye have received the
Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.” He concluded the last
of these discourses with a reflection on these words. “We cry, Abba,
Father.” “This (says he,) is much for our comfort, that from whomsoever,
and whatsoever corner in the world, prayers come up to him, they cannot
want acceptance. All languages, all countries, all places are sanctified
by Jesus Christ, that whosoever calls upon the name of the Lord from the
ends of the earth, shall be saved. And truly it is a sweet meditation to
think, that from the ends of the earth the cries of souls are heard; and
that the end is as near heaven as the middle, and a wilderness as near as
a paradise, that though we understand not one another, yet we have one
loving and living Father, that understands all our meanings. And so the
different languages and dialects of the members of this body make no
confusion in heaven, but meet together in his heart and affection, and are
as one perfume, one incense, sent up from the whole catholic church, which
is here scattered upon the earth. O that the Lord would persuade us to cry
this way to our Father in all our necessities!”(115) Thus having
contemplated that subject concerning the adoption of children, he was
taken hence to the enjoyment of the inheritance reserved in the heavens
for them, and the Spirit called him by death, as the voice did John the
divine, Rev. iv. 1, “Come up hither.”
He was buried in the churchyard of Govan, where Mr. Patrick
Gillespie,(116) then principal of the university of Glasgow, at his own
proper charges, (as I am credibly informed,) caused a monument(117) to be
erected for him, on which there is to this day the following inscription
in Latin:
HIC SITVS EST MR. HVGO BINNINGVS,
VIR PIETATE, FACVNDIA, DOCTRINA
CLARVS, PHILOLOGVS, PHILOSOPHVS,
THEOLOGVS PRSÆ, PRÆCO
DENIQVE EVANGELII FIDELIS ET
EXIMIVS, QVI E MEDIO RERVM CVRSV
SVBLATVS, ANNO ÆTATIS 26, DOM
AVTEM 1653. MVTAVIT PATRIAM NON
SOCIETEM, EO QVOD VIVVS CVM
DEO AMBVLAVIT, ET SI QVID VLTRA
INQVIRAS CÆTERA SILEO, CVM NEC
TV NEC MARMOR HOC
CAPIAT
He left behind him a disconsolate widow, and an only son, called John
after the grandfather, to whom the grandfather at his death had left the
estate of Dalvennan,(118) but John having been engaged in the insurrection
at Bothwell bridge, anno 1679, it was forfeited, and he continued
dispossessed of it till the year 1690, when, by the 18th act of parliament
in the said year, the forfeitures and fines past since the year 1665, to
the 5th day of November, 1688, were rescinded.(119) His widow was
afterwards married to one Mr. James Gordon,(120) a presbyterian minister
for some time in the kingdom of Ireland. She lived to a great age, and
died in the year 1694, at Paisley in the shire of Renfrew, about four or
five miles from Govan; which, when the people of that parish heard, the
savoury memory they still had of their worthy pastor, made them to desire
the friends of the defunct, to allow them to give her a decent and
honourable burial, beside her deceased husband, undertaking to defray all
the charges of the funeral, which was done accordingly. And to this day
Mr. Binning is mentioned among them with particular veneration. He was
succeeded by Mr David Vetch,(121) who likewise died young.
Before I conclude this Relation, it is proper I give some account of his
writings. The books published at different times under his name, which are
contained in this volume, are all posthumous. Wherefore it will not be
strange, if the reader shall meet with some passages in them that are less
perfect and complete, since he did not intend them for the press, and that
they want those finishing strokes, which such a masterly pen was able to
give them. The good effects his discourses had upon the hearers, and the
importunity of many judicious and experienced Christians to have them
published, that they might have the same influence on such as should read
them, encouraged some worthy ministers to revise and print them. And since
these sermons have for a long time had the approbation both of learned
divines and serious Christians, they need not any recommendation of mine.
The first of his works that was printed,(122) is entitled, “The Common
Principles of the Christian Religion, clearly proved, and singularly
improved, or a Practical Catechism, wherein some of the most concerning
foundations of our faith are solidly laid down, and that doctrine which is
according to godliness, is sweetly, yet pungently pressed home, and most
satisfyingly handled.” Mr. M’Ward speaking of this performance, says,
“That it was not designed for the press, that it contained only his notes
on those subjects he preached to his flock, and which he wrote (I suppose
he means(123) in a fair hand) for the private use and edification of a
friend, from whom he had them, and when put into his hand to be revised,
he says, he did not so much as alter, or add one word, to make the sense
more plain, full, or emphatical.” This book is an excellent exposition of
the Westminster Catechism, so far as it goes, viz. to the twenty first
question, “Who is the Redeemer of God’s elect?” Mr. Patrick Gillespie
writes a preface to the reader, wherein he expresses his high opinion of
it in the following encomium. “In this book Mr. Binning explains many of
the fundamental articles of the Christian faith and had he lived to have
perfected and finished this work, he had been upon this single account
famous in the church of Christ.” The Assembly’s Catechism has had many
expositions by pious and learned ministers, some of them by way of sermon,
and others by way of question and answer. But this, so far as it goes, is
not inferior to any. A learned layman, Sir Matthew Hales chief justice of
the king’s bench, the divine of the state in King Charles II.’s reign,
judged the Assembly’s Catechism to be an excellent composure, and thought
it not below him, or unworthy of his pains to consider it. For in the
second part of his “Contemplations moral and divine,” we have his most
instructive meditations upon the first three questions. These had been the
employment of his _horœ sacrœ_, and it is a pity he did not go on to the
other questions. The shortness of Mr. Binning’s life has deprived us of a
complete course of useful catechetical discourses. This book was so
greatly esteemed in this country, that before the year 1718, there had
been no less than five impressions cast off the press,(124) and all these
being sold off, a sixth was made in the said year. As they were much
valued at home, so they were highly prized abroad, and as an evidence of
this, I find that Mr. James Coleman, minister at Sluys in Flanders,
translated them into the Dutch language.(125)
In the year 1670, another posthumous work was printed; it is entitled,
“The Sinner’s Sanctuary, being forty Sermons upon the Eighth chapter of
the Epistle to the Romans, from the first verse down to the sixteenth.”
The Publishers in their preface acquaint us, that they were encouraged to
print it because the former treatise was universally received by the
intelligent and judicious in the principles of the Christian faith. In
this book, as in all his other writings, the readers will perceive a pure
stream of piety and learning running through the whole, and a very
peculiar turn of thought, that exceeds the common rate of writers on this
choice part of the Holy Scriptures. Dr. Horton, Dr. Manton, and others,
have printed a great number of useful practical discourses, but so far as
he goes, he is not exceeded by any of them.
A third treatise was printed at Edinburgh, in the year 1671. The title of
it is, “Fellowship with God, being twenty eight Sermons on the First
Epistle of John, Chap. 1st, and Chap. 2d, Verses 1, 2, 3.” In this book,
we have the true ground and foundation of attaining the spiritual way of
entertaining fellowship with the Father and the Son, and the blessed
condition of such as attain to it, most succinctly and distinctly
explained. This book was revised and published by one A. S. who, in his
preface to the reader, styles himself, his servant in the gospel of our
dearest Lord and Saviour. I need give no other commendation of it, than
that summary eulogium which that minister has left us. “In a word, (says
he,) here are to be found, convictions for atheists, piercing rebukes to
the profane, clear instructions to the ignorant, milk to the babes in
Christ, strong meat for the strong, strength to the weak, quickening and
reviving for such as faint in the way, restoratives for such as are in a
decay, reclamations and loud oyesses after backsliders to recall them,
breasts of consolation for Zion’s mourners. And to add no more, here are
most excellent counsels and directions to serious seekers of fellowship
with God, to guide them in their way, and help them forward to the
attainment of that fulness of joy which is to be had in fellowship with
the Father and the Son.”
The last treatise that has been printed is, “Heart Humiliation, or
Miscellany Sermons, preached upon some choice texts at several solemn
occasions.” These likewise were revised and published by the above A. S.
in the year [1676]. Mr. Binning considering the great confusions and
lamentable divisions that prevailed in the church in his day, and the
abounding immorality and profaneness of the age, was deeply weighed
therewith. His righteous soul was so vexed and grieved on these accounts,
that he vented his mind in a most pathetic and moving manner, when the
days of public humiliation and fasting were observed. With respect to the
many fasts then appointed, and the few good effects they had, he says in
his sermon on Isa. lxiv. 7—“There is none that calleth upon thy name, that
stirreth up himself to take hold of thee,”—“The fasting days of Scotland
will be numbered in the roll of the greatest provocations, because there
is no real and spiritual conviction of sin among us, custom now hath taken
away the solemnity, and there remaineth nothing but the very name.”(126)
And in this same sermon, he says, “Doth any of you pray more in private
than ye used? Or what edge is upon your prayers? Alas! the Lord will get
good leave to go from us, it feareth me we would give Christ a testimonial
to go over seas. Hold him, hold him! Nay the multitude would be gladly
quit of him,—they cannot abide his yoke, his work is a burden, his word is
a torment, his discipline is bands and cords, and what heart can ye have
to keep Christ? What violence can ye offer to him to hold him still? All
your entreaties may be fair compliments, but they would never rend his
garment.”(127) There are still several manuscripts of Mr. Binning’s
carefully preserved, which are in nothing inferior to any of his printed
works. There is a valuable Treatise upon Christian Love, consisting of
several sheets writ in a very small character,—it is divided into
chapters, and several sermons upon very edifying subjects, useful and
profitable for our times,—which are designed to be printed in a separate
volume, which every body may easily discover from the style and genius of
the author to be his genuine writings, his manner of thinking and writing
being a talent so peculiar to himself, that it scarcely can be imitated by
any other person.
Had it pleased the Almighty to have spared so valuable a life for some
time longer, he would have vindicated divinity from the many fruitless
questions, unintelligible terms, empty notions, and perplexed subtilties,
wherewith it had been corrupted for a long time by the schoolmen. As he
was excellently fitted for this, so it was much upon his heart to have
reduced divinity to that native simplicity, which had been lost in most
parts of the world. A good specimen of his ability this way he hath given
us in his catechism, and so, though he lived but a short time, he yet
lived long enough to raise the greatest expectation that hath been known
of any of his standing.
Mr. M’Ward assures us, That if Dr. Strang’s dictates _De Voluntate Dei
circa peccata_(128) had been published before Mr. Binning’s death, Mr.
Binning had an examen of them ready for the press. But this treasure, to
the great loss of the learned world, cannot now be found. As for his
philosophical writings which he taught in the University, I am assured
that his course of philosophy is in the hands of a learned gentleman in
this city, who gives them an high commendation.
There is a book published under his name in 4to, consisting of fifty-one
pages, with this title, “An Useful Case of Conscience, learnedly and
accurately discussed and resolved, concerning associations and
confederacies with idolaters, infidels, heretics, malignants or any other
known enemies of truth and godliness.” But it is very much questioned by
the most intelligent, if that book was really Mr. Binning’s. The
publisher does indeed put Mr. Binning’s name to the title page, but
conceals his own, and he brings no manner of voucher, showing that Mr.
Binning was the author, but sends it abroad into the world in a
clandestine manner. Neither the name of the printer, nor of the place
where it was printed is mentioned in the title page.(129) It was printed
in the year 1693, when the first General Assembly of this church after the
Revolution, which consisted of both Public Resolutioners and Protesters,
had agreed to bury for ever all their differences about the Public
Resolutions, concerning the question of employing malignants in the army,
that was raised against the kingdom of England. It seems that he dreaded
the frowns and censure of those worthy and faithful ministers of Jesus
Christ, who had been a long time in the fire of persecution. But if we
further consider, that our late glorious deliverer, King William, was in
the year 1693 engaged in a defensive war with the Emperor of Germany and
the King of Spain, against Louis XIV., the bloody tyrant of France and
terror of Europe, who aimed at the universal monarchy thereof, and to
overturn the happy revolution, the blessed benefits of which we have
enjoyed ever since, it is evident, that the publisher was afraid of the
resentment of the civil powers, especially when the spreading of that
pamphlet might have an unhappy tendency to alienate the affections of his
subjects, when he was carrying on that just and necessary war, for the
preservation of our civil and religious liberties, to which we had been
but lately restored. Nay, it is said, that when this pamphlet was
spreading in the army in Flanders, it was like to have a bad influence on
the soldiers, which made King William take an effectual method to suppress
it. Further, Mr. Binning died in the year 1653, and this pamphlet was not
published till the year 1693, so that, for the space of forty years it was
never heard of nor made public by any of the Protesters themselves in that
period, which would not have been neglected, had they known that Mr.
Binning was the author of it. And lastly, Mr. Binning was of a pacific
temper, and his sentiments with respect to public differences were
healing, which are evident from the accounts already given of his printed
books. And to show that he was a promoter of brotherly love, and of the
peace of the church, I shall set down a few passages taken from his
Treatise of Christian Love, which are as bright and strong for
recommending the same, as any that I have met with in the writings of any
of our divines, so that I can’t allow myself to think he could be the
author thereof. In chapter 2d of that Treatise, he says, “There is a
greater moment and weight of Christianity in charity, than in the most
part of those things for which Christians bite and devour one another. It
is the fundamental law of the gospel, to which all positive precepts and
ordinances should stoop. Unity in judgment is very needful for the well
being of Christians. But Christ’s last words persuade this, that unity in
affection is more essential and fundamental. This is the badge he left to
his disciples. If we cast away this upon every different apprehension of
mind, we disown our Master, and disclaim his token and badge.”(130) He
goes on in the same strain in the following paragraph—“The apostle Paul
puts a high note of commendation upon charity, when he styles it the bond
of perfection. ‘Above all things (says he) put on charity, which is the
bond of perfectness,’ Col. iii. 14. I am sure it hath not so high a place
in the minds and practice of Christians now, as it hath in the roll of the
parts and members of the new man here set down. Here it is above all. With
us it is below all, even below every apprehension of doubtful truths. An
agreement in the conception of any poor petty controversial matter of the
times, is made the badge of Christianity, and set in an eminent place
above all.”(131) And in the same chapter he adds, “This is the sum of all,
to worship God in faith and purity, and to love one another. And,
whatsoever debates and questions tend to the breach of this bond, and have
no eminent and remarkable advantage in them, suppose they be conceived to
be about matters of conscience, yet the entertaining and prosecuting of
them to the prejudice of this, is a manifest violence offered to the law
of God, which is the rule of conscience. It is a perverting of scripture
and conscience to a wrong end. I say then, that charity and Christian love
should be the moderatrix of all our actions towards men. From thence they
should proceed, and according to this rule be formed. I am persuaded if
this rule were followed, the present differences in judgment of godly men,
about such matters as minister mere questions, would soon be buried in the
gulf of Christian affection.”(132) I shall mention only another in the
same chapter. “Is not charity more excellent than the knowledge and
acknowledgment of some present questionable matters about government,
treaties, and such like, and far more than every punctilio of them? But
the apostle goes higher. Suppose a man could spend all his substance upon
the maintenance of such an opinion, and give his life for the defence of
it, though in itself it be commendable, yet if he want charity and love to
his brethren, if he overstretch that point of conscience to the breach of
Christian affection and duties flowing from it, it profits him nothing.
Then certainly charity must rule our external actions, and have the
predominant hand in the use of all gifts, and in the venting of all
opinions.”(133) And now, having given a just character of this eminent
minister of the gospel, a true account of his life, and some slight
remarks upon his writings, I shall no longer detain the reader from the
perusal of those treatises that are contained in this volume; from which
you will know more of Mr. Binning, than from all I and others have said in
his just praise. I shall now conclude, by acquainting the purchasers and
readers of this volume, that I am allowed by the publishers to assure
them, that the rest of his practical manuscripts are revising for the
press; and that with all expedition they shall be printed; from which I am
hopeful they shall receive as great satisfaction, as from any of his
pieces already published.
THE COMMON PRINCIPLES OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION, CLEARLY PROVED, AND
SINGULARLY IMPROVED; OR, A PRACTICAL CATECHISM.
Original Preface.
To The Reader
_Christian Reader_,—The holy and learned author of this little book,
having outrun his years, hastened to a maturity before the ordinary
season, insomuch that ripe summer fruit was found with him by the first of
the spring, for before he had lived twenty five years complete, he had got
to be _Philologus_, _Philosophus_, _Theologus eximius_, whereof he gave
suitable proofs, by his labours, having first professed in philosophy
three years, with high approbation, in the university of Glasgow, and
thence was translated to the ministry of the gospel in a congregation
adjacent, where he laboured in the work of the gospel near four years,
leaving an epistle of commendation upon the hearts of his hearers. But as
few burning and shining lights have been of long continuance here so he
(after he had served his own generation by the will of God, and many had
rejoiced in his light for a season) was quickly transported to the land of
promise, in the 26th year of his age. He lived deservedly esteemed and
beloved, and died much lamented by all discerning Christians who knew him.
And, indeed, the loss which the churches of Christ, in these parts,
sustained in his death was the greater upon a double account; first, that
he was a person fitted with dexterity to vindicate school divinity and
practical theology from the superfluity of vain and fruitless perplexing
questions wherewith latter times have corrupted both, and had it upon his
spirit, in all his way to reduce(134) that native gospel simplicity,
which, in most parts of the world where literature is in esteem, and where
the gospel is preached, is almost exiled from the school and from the
pulpit,—a specimen whereof the judicious reader may find in this little
treatise. Besides, he was a person of eminent moderation and sobriety of
spirit, (a rare grace in this generation,) whose heart was much drawn
forth in the study of healing-ways and condescensions of love among
brethren, one who longed for the recovering of the _humanity of
Christianity_, which hath been well near lost in the bitter divisions of
these times, and the animosities which have followed thereupon.
That which gave the rise to the publishing of this part of his
manuscripts, was partly the longing of many who knew him after some fruit
of his labours for the use of the church, and partly the exceeding great
usefulness of the treatise, wherein, I am bold to say, that some
fundamentals of the Christian religion, and great mysteries of faith, are
handled with the greatest gospel simplicity and most dexterous plainness
and are brought down to the meanest capacity and vulgar understanding,
with abundant evidence of a great height and reach of useful knowledge in
the author, who, had he lived to have perfected the explication of the
grounds of religion in this manner—as he intended, in his opening the
catechism unto his particular congregation—he had been, upon this single
account, famous in the churches of Christ. But now, by this imperfect
_opus posthumum_, thou art left to judge _ex ungue leonem_.
The author’s method was his peculiar gift, who, being no stranger to the
rules of art, knew well how to make his method subserve the matter which
he handled; for, though he tell not always that his discourse hath so many
parts, thou mayest not think it wants method, it being _maximum artis
celare artem_. That the same Spirit which enabled him to conceive, and
communicate to others, these sweet mysteries of salvation, may help thee
with profit to read and peruse them, is the desire of him who is,
Thine in the service of the Gospel, PATRICK GILLESPIE
Lecture I.
God’s Glory the Chief End of Man’s Being
Rom. xi. 36.—“Of him and through him, and to him, are all things,
to whom be glory for ever.” And 1 Cor. x. 31—“Whatsoever ye do, do
all to the glory of God.”
All that men have to know, may be comprised under these two heads,—What
their end is, and What is the right way to attain to that end? And all
that we have to do, is by any means to seek to compass that end. These are
the two cardinal points of a man’s knowledge and exercise. _Quo et qua
eundum est_,—Whither to go, and what way to go. If there be a mistake in
any of these fundamentals, all is wrong. All arts and sciences have their
principles and grounds that must be presupposed to all solid knowledge and
right practice, so hath the true religion some fundamental principals
which must be laid to heart and imprinted into the soul, or there can be
no superstructure of true and saving knowledge and no practice in
Christianity that can lead to a blessed end. But as the principles are not
many, but a few common and easy grounds, from which all the conclusions of
art are reduced, so the principles of true religion are few and plain;
they need neither burden your memory, nor confound your understanding.
That which may save you “is nigh thee,” says the apostle, (Rom. x. 8)
“even in thy mouth.” It is neither too far above us, nor too far below us.
But, alas! your not considering of these common and few and easy grounds
makes them both burdensome to the memory, and dark to the understanding.
As there is nothing so easy but it becomes difficult of you do it against
your will,—_Nihil est tam facile, quin difficile fiat, si invitus
feceris_,—so there is nothing so plain, so common, but it becomes dark and
hard if you do not indeed consider it and lay it to heart.
That which is, in the first place, to be considered is, Our end. As in all
other arts and every petty business, it hath the first place of
consideration, so especially in the Christian religion. It is the first
cause of all human actions, and the first principle of all deliberate
motions. Except you would walk at random not knowing whither you go, or
what you do, you must once establish this and fix it in your
intention—What is the great end and purpose wherefore I am created, and
sent into the world? It this be not either questioned, or not rightly
constituted, you cannot but spend your time, _Vel nihil agendo, vel aliud
agendo, vel male agendo_, you must either do nothing, or nothing to
purpose, or, that which is worse, that which will undo you. It is
certainly the wrong establishing of this one thing that makes the most
part of our motions either altogether irregular, or unprofitable, or
destructive and hurtful. Therefore, as this point hath the first place in
your catechism, so it ought to be first of all laid to heart, and pondered
as the one necessary thing. “One thing is needful,” says Christ, Luke x.
42, and if any thing be in a superlative degree needful, this is it. O
that you would choose to consider it, as the necessity and weight of it
require!
We have read two scriptures, which speak to the ultimate and chief end of
man, which is the glorifying of God by all our actions and words and
thoughts. In which we have these things of importance: 1. That God’s glory
is the end of our being. 2. That God’s glory should be the end of our
doing. And, 3. The ground of both these; because both being and doing are
from him, therefore they ought to be both for him. He is the first cause
of both, and therefore he ought to be the last end of both. “Of him, and
through him, are all things;” and therefore all things are also for him,
and therefore all things should be done to him.
God is independent altogether, and self-sufficient. This is his royal
prerogative, wherein he infinitely transcends all created perfection. He
is of himself, and for himself; from no other, and for no other, “but of
him, and for him, are all things.” He is the fountain-head; you ought to
follow the streams up to it, and then to rest, for you can go no farther.
But the creature, even the most perfect work, besides God, it hath these
two ingredients of limitation and imperfection in its bosom: it is from
another, and for another. It hath its rise out of the fountain of God’s
immense power and goodness, and it must run towards that again, till it
empty all its faculties and excellencies into that same sea of goodness.
Dependence is the proper notion of a created being,—dependence upon that
infinite independent Being, as the first immediate cause, and the last
immediate end. You see then that this principle is engraven in the very
nature of man. It is as certain and evident that man is made for God’s
glory, and for no other end, as that he is from God’s power, and from no
other cause. Except men do violate their own conscience, and put out their
own eyes—as the Gentiles did, Rom. i. 19 &c.—“that which may be known” of
man’s chief end, “is manifest in them,” so that all men are “without
excuse.” As God’s being is independent, so that he cannot be expressed by
any name more suitable than such as he takes to himself, “I am that I
am,”—importing a boundless, ineffable, absolute, and transcendent being,
beside which, no creature deserves so much as to have the name of being,
or to be made mention of in one day with his name, because his glorious
light makes the poor derived shadow of light in other creatures to
disappear, and to evanish out of the world of beings,—so it is the
glorious perfection of his nature, that he doth “all things for himself,”
Prov. xvi. 4, for his own name; and his glory is as dear to him as
himself. “I am the Lord, that is my name, and [therefore] my glory will I
not give to another,” Isa. xlii. 8; and xlviii. 11. This is no ambition.
Indeed, for a man to seek his own glory, or search into it, “is not
glory,” (Prov. xxv. 27), but rather a man’s shame. Self-seeking in
creatures is a monstrous and incongruous thing; it is as absurd, and
unbeseeming a creature, to seek its own glory, as to attribute to itself
its own being. Shall the thing formed say to the potter, Thou hast not
made me? That were ridiculous. And shall the thing formed say, ’Tis made
for itself? That were as ridiculous. Self-denial is the ornament and
beauty of a creature, and therefore humility is an ornament and clothing,
1 Pet. v. 5; and honour upholds the humble spirit, Prov. xxix. 23. But
God’s self-seeking, and seeking of his own glory, is his eminent
excellency. It is indeed his glory, because he is, and there is none else;
there is nothing, besides him, but that which hath issued forth from his
incomprehensible fulness. And therefore it is all the reason of the world,
that as he is the beginning, so he should be the end of all things, Rev.
i. 8. And there is the more reason of it, that his majesty’s seeking of
his own glory is not prejudicial to the creature’s good, but the very
communication of his fulness goes along with it: so that in glorifying
himself, he is most beneficial to his own creatures. Poor creatures,
indigent at home, are yet proud of nothing, and endeavour, in seeking of
themselves, to engross all perfections into their own bosoms! Ambition and
vainglory robs and spoils others’ excellencies to clothe itself withal;
and then boasts itself in these borrowed feathers! But our blessed Lord is
then doing most for our advantage when he does all for his own glory. He
needs not go abroad to seek perfection, but to manifest what he is in
himself; he communicates of himself to us. O blessed self-seeking that
gave us a being and well-being; that makes no advantage by it, but gives
advantage! He hath the honour of all, but we have the profit of all.
“All things are of him, and for him;” but man in a peculiar and proper
way. As God, in making of man, was pleased of his goodness to stamp him
with a character of his own image—and in this he puts a difference between
man and other creatures, that he should have more plain and distinct
engravings of divine majesty upon him, which might show the glory of the
workman—so it appears that he is in a singular way made for God, as his
last end. As he is set nearer God, as the beginning and cause, than other
creatures; so he is placed nearer God as the end. All creatures are made
_ultimo_, lastly, for God, yet they are all made _proximo_, nextly, for
man. Therefore David falls out a wondering, “Lord, what is man, that thou
art mindful of him,” “and hast made him to have dominion over the works of
thy hands, and put all things under his feet!” Psal. viii. 4, 6. The
creature comes out in a direct line from God, as the beams from the body
of the sun; and it is directed towards the use and service of mankind,
from whom all the excellency and perfection that is in it should reflect
towards God again. Man is both _proximo et ultimo_ for God. We are to
return immediately to the fountain of our being; and thus our happiness
and well-being is perpetuated. There is nothing intervening between God
and us that our use and service and honour should be directed towards: but
all the songs and perfections of the creature, that are among the rest of
the creatures, meet all in man as their centre, for this purpose that he
may return with them all to the glorious fountain from whence they issued.
Thus we stand next God, and in the middle between God and other creatures.
This, I say, was the condition of our creation. We had our being
immediately from God, as the beginning of all; and we were to have our
happiness and well-being by returning immediately to God as the end of
all. But sin coming in between God and us, hath displaced us, so that we
cannot now stand next God, without the intervention of a Mediator; and we
cannot stand between God and creatures, to offer up their praises to him;
but “there is one Mediator between God and man,” that offers up both man’s
praises and the creature’s songs which meet in man.
Now, seeing God hath made all things for himself, and especially man for
his own glory, that he may show forth in him the glory and excellence of
his power, goodness, holiness, justice, and mercy; it is not only most
reasonable that man should do all things that he doth to the glory of God,
but it is even the beauty and perfection of a man,—the greatest accession
that can be to his being,—to glorify God by that being. We are not our
own, therefore we ought not to live to ourselves, but to God whose we are.
But you may ask, What is it to glorify God? Doth our goodness extend to
him? Or is it an advantage to the Almighty that we are righteous? No
indeed! And herein is the vast difference between God’s glorifying of us
and sanctifying of us, and our glorifying and sanctifying of him. God
“calls things that are not,” and makes them to be: but we can do no more
but call things that are, and that far below what they are. God’s
glorifying is creative,—ours only declarative. He makes us such,—we do no
more but declare him to be such. This then is the proper work that man is
created for, to be a witness of God’s glory, and to give testimony to the
appearances and out-breakings of it in the ways of power and justice and
mercy and truth. Other creatures are called to glorify God, but it is
rather a proclamation to dull and senseless men, and a provocation of them
to their duty. As Christ said to the Pharisees, “If these children hold
their peace, the stones would cry out,” so may the Lord turn himself from
stupid and senseless man, to the stones and woods and seas and sun and
moon, and exhort them to man’s duty, the more to provoke and stir up our
dulness, and to make us consider that it is a greater wonder that man,
whom God hath made so glorious, can so little express God’s glory, than if
stupid and senseless creatures should break out in singing and praising of
his majesty. The creatures are the books wherein the lines of the song of
God’s praises are written; and man is made a creature capable to read
them, and to tune that song. They are appointed to bring in brick to our
hand; and God has fashioned us for this employment, to make such a
building of it. We are the mouth of the creation; but ere God want praises
when our mouth is dumb, and our ears deaf, God will open the mouths of
asses, “of babes and sucklings,” and in them perfect praises, Psal. viii.
1, 2. Epictetus said well, _Si Luscinia essem, canerem ut Luscinia: cum
autem homo sim, __ quid agam? Laudabo Deum, nec unquam cessabo_—If I were
a lark, I would sing as a lark, but seeing I am a man, what should I do,
but praise God without ceasing? It is as proper to us to praise God, as
for a bird to chaunt. All beasts have their own sounds and voices peculiar
to their own nature, this is the natural sound of a man. Now as you would
think it monstrous to hear a melodious bird croaking as a raven, so it is
no less monstrous and degenerate to hear the most part of the discourses
of men savoring nothing of God. If we had known that innocent estate of
man, O how would we think he had fallen from heaven! We would imagine that
we were thrust down from heaven, where we heard the melodious songs of
angels, into hell, to hear the howlings of damned spirits. This then is
that we are bound unto, by the bond of our creation, this is our proper
office and station God once set us into, when he assigned every creature
its own use and exercise. This was our portion, (and O the noblest of all,
because nearest the King’s own person!) to acknowledge in our hearts
inwardly, and to expires in our words and actions outwardly, what a One he
is, according as he hath revealed himself in his word and works. It is
great honour to a creature to have the meanest employment in the court of
this great king, but, O, what is it to be set over all the King’s house,
and over all his kingdom! But, then, what is that in respect of this,—to
be next to the King—to wait on his own person, so to speak? Therefore the
godly man is described as a waiting maid, or servant. Psal. cxxiii. 2.
Well then, without more discourse upon it, without multiplying of it into
particular branches, to glorify God is in our souls to conceive of him,
and meditate on his name, till they receive the impression and stamp of
all the letters of his glorious name, and then to express this in our
words and actions in commending of him, and obeying of him. Our souls
should be as wax to express the seal of his glorious attributes of
justice, power, goodness, holiness, and mercy, and as the water that
receives the beams of the sun reflects them back again, so should our
spirits receive the sweet warming beams of his love and glorious
excellency, and then reflect them towards his Majesty, with the desires
and affections of our souls. All our thoughts of him, all our affections
towards him, should have the stamp of singularity, such as may declare
there is none like him, none besides him, our love, our meditation, our
acknowledgement should have this character on their front,—“There is none
besides thee; thou art, and none else.” And then a soul should, by the
cords of affection to him and admiration of him, be bound to serve him.
Creation puts on the obligation to glorify him in our body and spirits
which are his, but affection only puts that to exercise. All other bonds
leave our natures at liberty, but this constrains, 2 Cor. v. 14, it binds
on all bonds, it ties on us all divine obligations. Then a soul will
glorify God, when love so unites it to God, and makes it one spirit with
him, that his glory becomes its honour, and becomes the principle of all
our inward affections and outward actions. It is not always possible to
have and express particular thoughts of God and his glory, in every action
and meditation, but, for the most part it ought to be so. And if souls
were accustomed to meditation on God, it would become their very
nature,—_altera natura_,—pleasant and delightsome. However, if there be
not always an express intention of God’s glory, yet there ought to be kept
always such a disposition and temper of spirit as it may be construed to
proceed from the intention of God’s glory, and then it remains in the seed
and fruit, if not in itself.
Now when we are speaking of the great end and purpose of our creation, we
call to mind our lamentable and tragical fall from that blessed station we
were constitute into. “All men have sinned and come short of the glory of
God,” Rom. iii. 23. His being in the world was for that glory, and he is
come short of that glory. O strange shortcoming! Short of all that he was
ordained for! What is he now meet for? For what purpose is that chief of
the works of God now! The salt, if it lose its saltness, is meet for
nothing, for wherewithal shall it be seasoned? Mark ix. 50. Even so, when
man is rendered unfit for his proper end, he is meet for nothing, but to
be cast out and trode upon, he is like a withered branch that must be cast
into the fire, John xv. 6. Some things, if they fail in one use, they are
good for another, but the best things are not so,—_Corruptio optimi
pessima_. As the Lord speaks to the house of Israel, “Shall wood be taken
of the vine tree to do any work?” Even so the inhabitants of Jerusalem,
Ezek. xv. 2-6. If it yield not wine, it is good for nothing. So, if man do
not glorify God,—if he fall from that,—he is meet for nothing, but to be
cast into the fire of hell, and burnt for ever, he is for no use in the
creation, but to be fuel to the fire of the Lord’s indignation.
But behold! the goodness of the Lord and his kindness and love hath
“appeared toward man. Not by works of righteousness which we have done,
but according to his mercy he saved us,” “through Jesus Christ,” Tit. iii,
4, 5, 6. Our Lord Jesus, by whom all things were created, and for whom,
would not let this excellent workmanship perish so, therefore he goes
about the work of redemption,—a second creation more laborious and also
more glorious than the first, that so he might glorify his Father and our
Father. Thus the breach is made up, thus the unsavoury salt is seasoned,
thus the withered branch is quickened again for that same fruit of praises
and glorifying of God. This is the end of his second creation, as it was
of the first: “We are his workmanship created to good works in Christ
Jesus,” Eph. ii. 10. “This is the work of God to believe on him whom he
hath sent, to set to our seal, and to give our testimony to all his
attributes,” John vi. 29 and iii. 33. We are “bought with a price,” and
therefore we ought to glorify him with our souls and bodies. He made us
with a soul, and that bound us, but now he has made us again, and paid a
price for us, and so we are twice bound not to be our own but his, “and so
to glorify him in our bodies and spirits,” 1 Cor. vi. ult. I beseech you,
gather your spirits, call them home about the business. We once came short
of our end,—God’s glory and our happiness, but know, that it is attainable
again. We lost both, but both are found in Christ. Awake then and stir up
your spirits, else it shall be double condemnation—when we have the offer
of being restored to our former blessed condition—to love our present
misery better. Once establish this point within your souls, and therefore
ask, Why came I hither? To what purpose am I come into the world? If you
do not ask it, what will you answer when he asks you at your appearance
before his tribunal? I beseech you, what will many of you say in that day
when the Master returns and takes an account of your dispensation? You are
sent into the world only for this business—to serve the Lord. Now what
will many of you answer? If you speak the truth (as then you must do
it,—you cannot lie then!) you must say, “Lord, I spent my time in serving
my own lusts, I was taken up with other businesses, and had no leisure, I
was occupied in my calling,” &c. Even as if an ambassador of a king should
return him this account of his negociation. “I was busy at cards and dice,
I spent my money, and did wear my clothes.” Though you think your
ploughing and borrowing and trafficking and reaping very necessary, yet
certainly these are but as trifles and toys to the main business. O what a
dreadful account will souls make! They come here for no purpose but to
serve their bodies and senses, to be slaves to all the creatures which
were once put under man’s feet. Now man is under the feet of all, and he
has put himself so. If you were of these creatures, then you might be for
them. You seek them as if you were created for them, and not they for you,
and you seek yourselves, as if you were of yourselves, and had not your
descent of God. Know, my beloved, that you were not made for that purpose,
nor yet redeemed either to serve yourselves, or other creatures, but that
other creatures might serve you, and ye serve God, Luke i. 74, 75. And
this is really the best way to serve ourselves and to save ourselves,—to
serve God. Self seeking is self-destroying, self denying is self-saving,
soul saving. “He that seeketh to save his life shall lose it, and he that
loseth his life shall find it, and he that denies himself and follows me,
is my disciple.” Will ye once sit down in good earnest about this
business? ’Tis lamentable to be yet to begin to learn to live, when ye
must die! Ye will be out of the world almost, ere ye bethink yourself, Why
came I into the world? _Quindam tunc vivere incipiunt, cum desinendum est,
imo quidam ante vivere desierunt quam inciperent_, this is of all most
lamentable,—many souls end their life, before they begin to live. For what
is our life, but a living death, while we do not live to God, and while we
live not in relation to the great end of our life and being,—the glory of
God? It were better, says Christ, that such “had never been born.” You who
are created again in Jesus Christ, it most of all concerns you to ask, Why
am I made? And why am I redeemed? And to what purpose? It is certainly
that ye may glorify your heavenly Father, Mat. v. 16; Ps. lvi. 13. And you
shall glorify him if you bring forth much fruit, and continue in his love,
John xv. 8, 9. And this you are chosen and ordained unto, ver. 16, and
therefore abide in him, that ye may bring forth fruit, ver. 4. And if you
abide in him by believing, you do indeed honour him, and he that honoureth
the Son honoureth the Father, John v. 23. Here is a compendious way to
glorify God. Receive salvation of him freely, righteousness and eternal
life, this sets to a seal to God’s truth and grace and mercy, and whoso
counts the Son worthy to be a Saviour to them, and sets to their seal of
approbation to him whom God the Father hath sent and sealed, he also
honours the Father, and then he that honoureth the Father, hath it not for
nothing, “for them that honour me I will honour,” 1 Sam ii. 30, says the
Lord, and “he that serves me, him will my Father honour,” John xii. 26. As
the believing soul cares for no other, and respects no other but God, so
he respects no other but such a soul. “I will dwell in the humble, and
look unto the contrite,” there are mutual respects and honours. God is the
delight of such a soul, and such a soul is God’s delight. That soul sets
God in a high place, in a throne in its heart, and God sets that soul in a
heavenly place with Christ, Eph. ii. 6, yea he comes down to sit with us
and dwells in us, off his throne of majesty, Isa. lxvi. 1, 2, and lvii.
15.
Lecture II.
Union And Communion With God The End And Design Of The Gospel
Psalm lxxiii. 24-28.—“Thou wilt guide me with thy counsel, &c.
Whom have I in heaven but thee? &c. It is good for me to draw near
to God.”—1 John i. 3. “That which we have seen and heard declare
we unto you, that ye also may have fellowship with us, and truly
our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus
Christ.”—John xvii. 21-23. “That they all may be one, as thou,
Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us,
&c.”
It is a matter of great consolation that God’s glory and our happiness are
linked together, so that whoever set his glory before them singly to aim
at, they take the most compendious and certain way to true blessedness.
His glory is the ultimate end of man, and should be our great and last
scope. But our happiness—which consists in the enjoyment of God—is
subordinate to this, yet inseparable from it. The end of our creation is
communion and fellowship with God, therefore man was made with an immortal
soul capable of it, and this is the greatest dignity and eminency of man
above the creatures. He hath not only impressed from God’s finger, in his
first moulding, some characters resembling God, in righteousness and
holiness, but is created with a capacity of receiving more of God by
communion with him. Other creatures have already all they will have,—all
they can have,—of conformity to him, but man is made liker than all, and
is fitted and fashioned to aspire to more likeness and conformity, so that
his soul may shine more and more to the perfect day.
There was an union made already in his first moulding, and communion was
to grow as a fragrant and sweet fruit out of this blessed root. Union and
similitude are the ground of fellowship and communion. That union was
gracious,—that communion would have been glorious, for grace is the seed
of glory. There was a twofold union between Adam and God,—an union of
state, and an union of nature, he was like God, and he was God’s friend.
All the creatures had some likeness to God, some engravings of his power
and goodness and wisdom, but man is said to be made according to God’s
image, “Let us make man like unto us.” Other creatures had _similitudinem
vestiga_, but man had _similitudinem faciet_. Holiness and righteousness
are God’s face,—the very excellency and glory of all his attributes, and
the Lord stamps the image of these upon man. Other attributes are but like
his back parts, and he leaves the resemblance of his footsteps upon other
creatures. What can be so beautiful as the image of God upon the soul?
Creatures, the nearer they are to God, the more pure and excellent. We see
in the fabric of the world, bodies the higher they are, the more pure and
cleanly, the more beautiful. Now then, what was man that was “made a
little lower than the angels”?—in the Hebrew, “a little lower than God,”
_tantum non deus_. Seeing man is set next to God, his glory and beauty
certainly surpasses the glory of the sun and of the heavens. Things
contiguous and next other are like other. The water is liker air than the
earth, therefore it is next the air. The air is liker heaven than water,
therefore is it next to it. _Omne contiguum spirituali, est spirituale_.
Angels and men next to God, are spirits, as he is a spirit. Now similitude
is the ground of friendship. _Pares paribus congregantur, similitudo
necessitudims vinculum_. It is that which conciliates affections among
men. So it is here by proportion. God sees all is very good, and that man
is the best of his works and he loves him, and makes him his friend, for
his own image which he beholds in him.
At length from these two roots this pleasant and fragrant fruit of
communion with and enjoyment of God grows up. This is the entertainment of
friends, to delight in one another, and to enjoy one another. _Amicorum
omnia communia_. Love makes all common. It opens the treasure of God’s
fulness, and makes a vent of divine bounty towards man, and it opens the
heart of man, and makes it large as the sand of the sea to receive of God.
Our receiving of his fulness is all the entertainment we can give him. O
what blessedness is this, for a soul to live in him! And it lives in him
when it loves him. _Anima est ubi amat, non ubi animat_. And to taste of
his sweetness and be satisfied with him, this makes perfect oneness, and
perfect oneness with God, who is “the fountain of life, and in whose
favour is life,” is perfect blessedness.
But we must stand a little here and consider our misery, that have fallen
from such an excellency. How are we come down from heaven wonderfully? Sin
has interposed between God and man and this dissolves the union, and
hinders the communion. An enemy has come between two friends, and puts
them at odds, and oh! an eternal odds. Sin hath sown this discord, and
alienated our hearts from God. Man’s glory consisted in the irradiation of
the soul from God’s shining countenance, this made him light, God’s face
shined on him. But sin interposing has eclipsed that light and brought on
an eternal night of darkness over the soul. And thus we are spoiled of the
image of God, as when the earth comes between the sun and the moon. Now
then, there can no beams of divine favour and love break through directly
towards us, because of the cloud of our sins, that separates between God
and us, and because of “the partition wall,” and “the hand writing of
ordinances that was against us,”—God’s holy law, and severe justice, Eph.
ii. 14, Col. ii. 14.
Then, what shall we do? How shall we see his face in joy? Certainly it had
been altogether impossible, if our Lord Jesus Christ had not come, who is
“the light and life of men.” The Father shines on him, and the beams of
his love reflect upon us, from the Son. The love of God, and his
favourable countenance, that cannot meet with us in a direct and immediate
beam, they fall on us in this blessed compass, by the intervention of a
mediator. We are rebels standing at a distance from God, Christ comes
between, a mediator and a peace maker, to reconcile us to God. “God is in
Christ reconciling the world.” God first makes an union of natures with
Christ, and so he comes near to us, down to us who could not come up to
him, and then he sends out the word of reconciliation,—the gospel, the
tenor whereof is this, “That which we have seen and heard declare we unto
you, that ye also may have fellowship with us, and truly our fellowship is
with the Father, and with his Son,” 1 John i. 3. It is a voice of peace
and invitation to the fellowship of God. Behold, then the happiness of man
is the very end and purpose of the gospel. Christ is the repairer of the
breaches, the second Adam aspired to quicken what Adam killed. He hath
“slain the enmity,” and cancelled the hand writing that was against us,
and so made peace by the blood of his cross, and then, having removed all
that out of the way, he comes and calls us unto the fellowship which we
were ordained unto from our creation. We who are rebels, are called to be
friends, “I call you not servants, but friends.” It is a wonder that the
creature should be called a friend of God, but, O great wonder, that the
rebel should be called a friend! And yet that is not all. We are called to
a nearer union,—to be the sons of God, this is our privilege, John i. 12.
This is a great part of our fellowship with the Father and his Son, we are
the Father’s children, and the Son’s brethren “and if children then heirs,
heirs of God,” and if brethren, then co-heirs with Christ, Rom. viii. 17.
Thus the union is begun again in Christ, but as long as sin dwells in our
mortal bodies it is not perfect, there is always some separation and some
enmity in our hearts, and so there is neither full seeing of God, for “we
know but in part,” and we see “darkly,” nor full enjoying of God, for we
are “saved by hope,” and we “live by faith, and not by sight.” But this is
begun which is the seed of eternal communion, we are here partakers of the
divine nature. Now then it must aspire unto a more perfect union with God
whose image it is. And therefore the soul of a believer is here still in
motion towards God as his element. There is here an union in affection but
not completed in fruition,—_affectu non effecta_. The soul pants after
God,—“Whom have I in heaven or earth but thee? My flesh and my heart
faileth,” &c. A believing soul looks upon God as its only
portion,—accounts nothing misery but to be separated from him, and nothing
blessedness but to be one with him. This is the loadstone of their
affections and desires, the centre which they move towards, and in which
they will rest. It is true, indeed, that oftentimes our heart and our
flesh faileth us, and we become ignorant and brutish. Our affections
cleave to the earth, and temptations with their violence turn our souls
towards another end than God. As there is nothing more easily moved and
turned wrong than the needle that is touched with the adamant, yet it
settles not in such a posture, it recovers itself and rests never till it
look towards the north, and then it is fixed—even so, temptations and the
corruptions and infirmities of our hearts disturb our spirits easily, and
wind them about from the Lord, towards any other thing, but yet we are
continuing with him, and he keeps us with his right hand, and therefore
though we may be moved, yet we shall not be greatly commoved, we may fall,
but we shall rise again. He is “the strength of our heart,” and therefore
he will turn our heart about again, and fix it upon its own portion. Our
union here consists more in his holding of us by his power, than our
taking hold of him by faith. Power and good will encamp about both faith
and the soul. “We are kept by his power through faith,” 1 Pet i. 5. And
thus he will guide the soul, and still be drawing it nearer to him, from
itself, and from sin and from the world, till he “receive us into glory,”
and until we be one as with the Father and the Son,—“He in us and we in
him, that we may be made perfect in one,” as it is in the words read.
This is strange. A greater unity and fuller enjoyment, a more perfect
fellowship, than ever Adam in his innocency would have been capable of!
What soul can conceive it? what tongue express it? None can, for it is
that which “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into
man’s heart to conceive.” We must suspend the knowledge of it till we have
experience of it. Let us now believe it, and then we shall find it. There
is a mutual inhabitation which is wonderful. Persons that dwell one _with_
another have much society and fellowship, but to dwell one _in_ another is
a strange thing,—“I in them, and they in me,” and therefore God is often
said to dwell in us, and we to dwell in him. But that which makes it of
all most wonderful and incomprehensible is that glorious unity and
communion between the Father and the Son, which it is made an emblem of.
“As thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in
us.” Can you conceive that unity of the Trinity? Can you imagine that
reciprocal inhabitation,—that mutual communion between the Father and the
Son? No, it hath not entered into the heart to conceive it. Only thus much
we know, that it is most perfect, it is most glorious, and so much we may
apprehend of this unity of the saints with God. Oh love is an uniting and
transforming thing. “God is love, and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in
God, and God in him.” He dwelleth in us by love, this makes him work in
us, and shine upon us. Love hath drawn him down from his seat of majesty,
to visit poor cottages of sinners, Isa. lxvi. 1, 2 and xlvi. 3, 4. And it
is that love of God reflecting upon our souls that carries the soul upward
to him, to live in him, and walk with him. O how doth it constrain a soul
to “live to him,” and draw it from itself! 2 Cor. v. 15. Then the more
unity with God, the more separation from ourselves and the world, the
nearer God the farther from ourselves, and the farther from ourselves the
more happy, and the more unity with God, the more unity among ourselves,
among the brethren of our family. Because here we are not fully one with
our Father, therefore there are many differences between us and our
brethren because we are not one perfectly in him, therefore we are not
one, as he and the Father are one. But when he shall be in us, and we in
him, as the Father is in the Son and the Son in the Father, then shall we
be one among ourselves, then shall we meet in the unity of the faith, into
a perfect man, “into the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ,”
Eph. iv. 13. Christ is the uniting principle. While the saints are not
wholly one, _uni tertio_, they cannot be perfectly one _inter se_, among
themselves. Consider this, I beseech you Christ’s union with the Father is
the foundation of our union to God, and our union among ourselves. This is
comfortable, the ground of it is laid already. Now it is not simply the
unity of the Father and the Son in essence that is here meant, for what
shadow and resemblance can be in the world of such an incomprehensible
mystery? But it is certainly the union and communion of God with Christ
Jesus as mediator, as the head of the church which is his body. Therefore
seeing the Father is so wonderfully well pleased and one with Christ, his
well beloved Son and messenger of the covenant, and chief party
contracting in our name, he is by virtue of this, one with us, who are his
seed and members. And therefore, the members should grow up in the head
Christ, from whom the whole body maketh increase “according to the
effectual working [of the Spirit] in it,” Eph. v. 1, 16. Now, if the union
between the Father and Christ our head cannot be dissolved, and cannot be
barren and unfruitful, then certainly the Spirit of the Father which is
given to Christ beyond measure, must effectually work in every member,
till it bring them to “the unity of the faith,” and, “to the measure of
the perfect man, which is the fulness of Christ.” So then every believing
soul is one with the Father as Christ is one, because he is the head and
they the members, and the day is coming that all the members shall be
perfectly united to the head Christ and grow up to the perfect man, which
is “the stature of Christ’s fulness.” “And then shall we all be made
perfect in one,” we shall be one as he is one, because he and we are one
perfect man, head and members.
Now, to what purpose is all this spoken? I fear, it doth not stir up in
our souls a desire after such a blessed life. Whose heart would not be
moved at the sound of such words? “Our fellowship is with the Father and
with his Son.” We are made perfect, he in us, and we in him. Certainly,
that soul is void of the life of God that doth not find some sparkle of
holy ambition kindled within, after such a glorious and blessed condition!
But these things savour not, and taste not to the most part, “the natural
man knoweth them not, for they are spiritually discerned.” How lamentable
is it, that Christ is come to restore us to our lost blessedness, and yet
no man almost considers it or lays it to heart! O how miserable,—twice
miserable—is that soul that doth not draw near to God in Christ, when God
hath come so near to us in Christ, that goes a whoring after the lust of
the eyes and flesh, and after the imaginations of their own heart, and
will not be guided by Christ, the way and life, to glory! “Thou shalt
destroy them, O Lord,” Psal. lxxiii. 27. All men are afar off from God,
from the womb behold, we may have access to God in Christ. Wo to them that
are yet afar off, and will not draw near, “they shall all perish.” “I
exhort you to consider what you are doing the most part of you are going
away from God, you were born far off, and you will yet go farther, know
what you will meet with in that way,—destruction.”
You have never yet asked in earnest, For what purpose you came into the
world? What wonder ye wander and walk at random, seeing ye have not
proposed to yourselves any certain scope and aim! It is great folly, you
would not be so foolish in any petty business, but O how foolish men are
in the main business! “The light of the body is the eye,” if that be not
light, “the whole body is full of darkness.” If your intention be once
right established, all your course will be orderly, but if you be dark and
blind in this point, and have not considered it, you cannot walk in the
light, your whole way is darkness. The right consideration of the great
end would shine unto you, and direct your way But while you have not
proposed this end unto yourselves—the enjoyment of God—you must spend your
time either in doing nothing to that purpose, or doing contrary to it.
All your other lawful business, your callings and occupations, are but in
the by; they are not the end, nor the way, but you make them your only
business; they are altogether impertinent to this end. And the rest of
your walking, in lusts and ignorance, is not only impertinent, but
inconsistent with it and contrary to it. If you think that you have this
before your eyes, to enjoy God,—I pray you look upon the way you choose.
Is your drunkenness, your swearing, your uncleanness, your contentions and
railings, and such works of the flesh,—are these the way to enjoy God?
Shall not these separate between God and you? Is your eating and drinking,
sleeping as beasts, and labouring in your callings,—are these all the
means you use to enjoy God? Be not deceived; you who draw not near God by
prayer often in secret, and by faith in his Son Christ, as lost miserable
sinners, to be saved and reconciled by him, you have no fellowship with
him, and you shall not enjoy him afterward! You whose hearts are given to
your covetousness, who have many lovers and idols besides him, you cannot
say, Whom have I besides Thee in earth? No; you have many other things
besides God. You can have nothing of God, except ye make him all to
you.—unless you have him alone. “My undefiled is One,” Cant. vi. 9. He
must be alone, for “his glory he will not give to another.” If you divide
your affections, and pretend to give him part, and your lusts another
part, you may be doing so, but he will not divide his glory so, he will
give no part of it to any other thing. But as for those souls that come to
him and see their misery without him, O know how good it is! It is not
only good, but best, yea only good; it is _bonum_, and it is _optimum_;
yea, it is _unicum_. “There is none good, save one, even God;” and there
is nothing good for us but this one, to be near God, and so near, that we
may be one,—one spirit with the Lord,—“for he that is joined to the Lord
is one spirit.” Rejoice in your portion, and long for the possession of
it. Let all your meditations and affections and conversation proclaim
this, “Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none in the earth whom
I desire besides thee.” And certainly he shall guide you to the end, and
receive you into glory. Then you shall rest from your labours, because you
shall dwell in him, and enjoy that which you longed and laboured for. Let
the consideration of that end unite the hearts of Christians here. O what
an absurd thing is it, that those who shall lodge together at night, and
be made “perfect in one,” should not only go contrary ways, but have
contrary minds and affections!
Lecture III.
The Authority And Utility Of The Scriptures
2 Tim. iii. 16.—“All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and
is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for
instruction in righteousness.”
We told you that there was nothing more necessary to know than what our
end is, and what the way is that leads to that end. We see the most part
of men walking at random,—running an uncertain race,—because they do not
propose unto themselves a certain scope to aim at, and whither to direct
their whole course. According to men’s particular inclinations and humours
so do the purposes and designs of men vary; and often do the purposes of
one man change, according to the circumstances of time and his condition
in the world. We see all men almost running cross one to another. One
drives at the satisfaction of his lust by pleasure; another fancies a
great felicity in honour; a third in getting riches; and thus men divide
themselves; whereas, if it were true happiness that all were seeking, they
would all go one way towards one end. If men be not in the right way, the
faster they seem to move toward the mark, the farther they go from it.
Wandering from the right way, (suppose men intend well) will put them
farther from that which they intend. _Si via in contrarium ducat, ipsa
velocitas majoris intervalli causa est._ Therefore it concerns us all most
deeply to be acquainted with the true path of blessedness; for if we once
mistake, the more we do, the swifter we move, the more distant we are from
it indeed. And there is the more need, because there are so many by-paths
that lead to destruction. What say I? By-paths! No; highways, beaten
paths, that the multitude of men walk in, and never challenge, nor will
endure to be challenged as if they were in an error! In other journeys,
men keep the plain highway, and are afraid of any secret by-way, lest it
lead them wrong: _At hic, via quæque tritissima maxime decipit._ Here the
high-pathed way leads wrong, and O, far wrong!—to hell. This is the
meaning of Christ’s sermon, “Enter in at the strait gate, but walk not in
the broad way where many walk, for it leads to destruction.” Therefore I
would have this persuasion once begotten in your souls, that the course of
this world,—the way of the most part of men,—is dangerous, is damnable. O
consider whither the way will lead you, before you go farther! Do not
think it a folly to stand still now, and examine it, when you have gone on
so long in their company. Stand, I say, and consider! Be not ignorant as
beasts, that know no other things than to follow the drove; _quæ pergunt,
non quo eundum est, sed quo itur_; they follow not whither they ought to
go, but whither most go. You are men, and have reasonable souls within
you; therefore I beseech you, be not composed and fashioned according to
custom and example, that is, brutish, but according to some inward
knowledge and reason. Retire once from the multitude, and ask in earnest
at God, What is the way? Him that fears him he will teach the way that he
should choose. The way to his blessed end is very strait, very difficult;
you must have a guide in it,—you must have a lamp and a light in it,—else
you cannot but go wrong.
The principles of reason within us are too dark and dim; they will never
lead us through the pits and snares in the way. These indeed shined so
brightly in Adam that he needed no light without him, no voice about him;
but sin hath extinguished it much; and there remains nothing but some
little spunk or sparkle, under the ashes of much corruption, that is but
insufficient in itself, and is often more blinded and darkened by lusts.
So that if it were never so much refined—as it was in many heathens—yet it
is but the blind leading the blind, and both must fall into the ditch. Our
end is high and divine,—to glorify God and to enjoy him; therefore our
reason _caligat ad suprema_; it can no more steadfastly behold that
glorious end, and move towards it, than our weak eyes can behold the sun.
Our eyes can look downward upon the earth, but not upward to the heavens:
so we have some remnant of reason in us, that hath some petty and poor
ability for matters of little moment, as the things of this life; but if
we once look upward to the glory of God, or eternal happiness, our eyes
are dazzled, our reason confounded, we cannot steadfastly behold it, Eph.
iv. 18; 2 Cor. iii. 13, 14.
Therefore the Lord hath been pleased to give us the scriptures, which may
be “a lamp unto our feet,” and a guide unto our way; whereunto we shall do
well “to take heed, as unto [a candle or] a light that shineth in a dark
place, until the day dawn,” 2 Peter i. 19. These are “able to make us wise
unto salvation.” Let us hear what Paul speaks to Timothy, 2 Tim. iii. 16,
“All scripture is given by inspiration of God,” &c.: where you have two
points of high concernment,—the authority of the scriptures, and their
utility. Their authority, for they are given by divine inspiration; their
utility, for they are “profitable for doctrine,” &c., and can make us
perfect, and well “furnished to every good work.”
The authority of it is in a peculiar way divine. “Of him and through him
are all things.” All writings of men, according to the truth of the
scriptures, have some divinity in them, inasmuch as they have of truth,
which is a divine thing. Yet the holy scriptures are by way of excellency
attributed to God, for they are immediately inspired of God. Therefore
Peter saith that “the scriptures came not in old time by the will of man,
but holy men spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost,” 2 Peter i. 21.
God by his Spirit, as it were, acted the part of the soul in the prophets
and apostles; and they did no more but utter what the Spirit conceived.
The Holy Ghost inspired the matter and the words, and they were but
tongues and pens to speak and write it unto the people; there needed no
debate, no search in their own minds for the truth, no inquisition for
light; but light shined upon their souls so brightly, so convincingly,
that it put it beyond all question that it was the mind and voice of God.
You need not ask, How they did know that their dreams or visions were
indeed from the Lord, and that they did not frame any imagination in their
own hearts and taught it for his word, as many did? I say, you need no
more ask that than ask, How shall a man see light or know the sunshine?
Light makes itself manifest, and all other things. It is seen by its own
brightness. Even so the holy men of God needed not any mark or sign to
know the Spirit’s voice, his revelation needed not the light of any other
thing, it was light itself. It would certainly overpower the soul and
mind, and leave no place of doubting. God, who cannot be deceived, and can
deceive no man, hath delivered us this doctrine. O with what reverence
shall we receive it, as if we heard the Lord from heaven speak. If you
ask, How you shall be persuaded that the scriptures are the word of
God,—His very mind opened to men and made legible. Truly there are some
things cannot be well proved, not because they are doubtful but because
they are clear of themselves, and beyond all doubt and exception.
Principles of arts must not be proved, but supposed, till you find by
trial and experience afterward that they were indeed really true. There
are, no question, such characters of divinity and majesty imprinted in the
very scriptures themselves, that whosoever hath the eyes of his
understanding opened, though he run he may read them, and find God in
them. What majesty is in the very simplicity and plainness of the
scriptures! They do not labour to please men’s ears, and adorn the matter
with the curious garments of words and phrases, but represent the very
matter itself to the soul, as that which in itself is worthy of all
acceptation, and needs no human eloquence to commend it. Painting doth
spoil native beauty. External ornaments would disfigure some things that
are of themselves proportioned and lovely, therefore the Lord chooses a
plain and simple style which is foolishness to the world, but in these
swaddling clothes of the scriptures, and this poor cottage the child
Jesus, the Lord of heaven and earth, is contained. There is a jewel of the
mysterious wisdom of God, and man’s eternal blessedness, in this mineral.
What glorious and astonishing humility is here! What humble and homely
glory and majesty also! He is most high, and yet none so lowly. What
excellent consent and harmony of many writers in such distant times!
Wonder at it. All speak one thing to one purpose,—to bring men to God, to
abase all glory, and exalt him alone. Must it not be one spirit that hath
quickened all these and breathes in them all this one heavenly song of
“glory to God on high and good will towards men.” Other writers will
reason these things with you to convince you and persuade you, and many
think them more profound and deep for that reason, and do despise the
baseness of the scriptures, but to them whose eyes are opened, the majesty
and authority of God commanding and asserting and testifying to them, is
more convincing from its own bare assertion, than all human reason.
Although there be much light in the scriptures to guide men’s way to God’s
glory and their own happiness, yet it will all be to small purpose if “the
eyes of our understanding be darkened and blinded.” If you shall surround
a man with day light, except he open his eyes he cannot see. The
scriptures are a clear sun of life and righteousness, but the blind soul
encompassed with that light is nothing the wiser, but thinks the lamp of
the word shines not, because it sees not, it hath its own dungeon within
it. Therefore the Spirit of God must open the eyes of the blind, and
enlighten the eyes of the understanding, that the soul may see wonderful
things in God’s law, Psal. cxix. 5, 18. The light may shine in the
darkness, but “the darkness comprehendeth it not,” John i. 5. I wonder not
that the most part of men can see no beauty, no majesty, no excellency in
the holy scriptures to allure them, because they are natural, and have not
the Spirit of God, and so cannot know these things “for they are
spiritually discerned,” 1 Cor. ii. 14. Therefore as the inspiration of God
did conceive this writing at first, and preached this doctrine unto the
world, so there can no soul understand it, or profit by it, but by the
inspiration of the Almighty. “Verily there is a spirit in man, and the
inspiration of the Almighty giveth him understanding,” saith Job. When the
Spirit comes into the soul to engrave the characters of that law and truth
into the heart which were once engraven on tables of stone, and not
written with pen and ink, then the Spirit of Christ Jesus writes over and
transcribes the doctrine of the gospel on “the fleshly tables of the
heart,”—draws the lineaments of that faith and love preached in the word
upon the soul, then the soul is “the epistle of Christ,” “written not with
[pen and] ink, but with the Spirit of the living God,” 2 Cor. iii. 3. And
then the soul is manifestly declared to be such, when that which is
impressed on the heart is expressed in the outward man in walking, that it
may be “read of all men.” Now the soul having thus received the image of
the scriptures on it, understands the Spirit’s voice in them, and sees the
truth and divinity of them. The eye must receive some species and likeness
of the object before it see it, it must be made like to the object ere it
can behold it,—_Intelligens in arta fit ipsum intelligibile_, so the soul
must have some inspiration of the Holy Ghost, before it can believe with
the heart the inspired scriptures.
Now, for the utility and profit of the scriptures, who can speak of it
according to its worth? Some things may be over commended,—nay, all things
but this one,—God speaking in his word to mankind. Many titles are given
to human writings, some are called accurate, some subtile, some ingenious
and some profound and deep, some plain, some learned, but call them what
they please, the scripture may vindicate to itself these two titles as its
own prerogative,—holy and profitable. The best speaker in the world in
many words cannot want sin, the best writer hath some dross and refuse,
but here, all is holy, all is profitable. Many books are to no purpose but
to feed and inflame men’s lusts, many serve for nothing but to spend and
drive over the time, without thought most part are good for nothing but to
burden and over weary the world to put them in a fancy of knowledge which
they have not, many serve for this only, to nourish men’s curiosity and
vain imaginations, and contentions about words and notions, but here is a
book profitable,—all profitable. If you do not yet profit by it, you can
have no pleasure in it, it is only ordained for soul’s profiting, not for
pleasing your fancy, not for matter of curious speculation, not for
contention and strife about the interpretation of it. Many books have
nothing in them, but specious titles to commend them, they do nothing less
than what they promise, they have a large and fair entry, which leads only
into a poor cottage, but the scriptures have no hyperbolic and superlative
styles to allure men, they hold out a plain and common gate and entry
which will undoubtedly lead to a pleasant palace, others _et prodesse
volunt et delectare_, but these certainly _et prodesse volunt et
possunt_,—they both can profit you and will profit you. I wish that souls
would read the scriptures as profitable scriptures with the intention to
profit. If you do not read with such a purpose, you read not the
scriptures of God, they become as another book unto you. But what are they
profitable for? For doctrine, and a divine doctrine, a doctrine of life
and happiness. It is the great promise of the new covenant, “You shall be
all taught of God.” The scriptures can make a man learned and wise,
learned to salvation, it is foolishness to the world, “but the world
through wisdom know not God.” Alas! what then do they know? Is there any
besides God? And is there any knowledge besides the knowledge of God? You
have a poor petty wisdom among you to gather riches and manage your
business. Others have a poor imaginary wisdom that they call learning, and
generally people think, to pray to God is but a paper-skill, a little
book-craft, they think the knowledge of God is nothing else but to learn
to read the Bible. Alas! mistake not, it is another thing to know God. The
doctrine of Jesus Christ written on the heart is a deep profound learning
and the poor, simple, rudest people, may by the Spirit’s teaching become
wiser than their ancients, than their ministers. O, it is an excellent
point of learning, to know how to be saved. What is it, I pray you to know
the course of the heavens,—to number the orbs, and the stars in them—to
measure their circumference,—to reckon their motions,—and yet not to know
him that sits on the circle of them, and not know how to inhabit and dwell
there? If you would seek unto God, and seek eyes opened to behold the
mystery of the word, you would become wiser than your pastors, you would
learn from the Spirit to pray better, you would find the way to heaven
better than they can teach you, or walk in it.
Then, it is “profitable for reproof and correction.” It contains no
doctrine very pleasant to men’s natural humours, but it is indeed most
pleasant to a right and ordered taste. You know, the distemper of the eye,
or the perverting of the taste, will misrepresent pleasant things, and
sweet things to the senses, and make them appear ill savoured and bitter.
But, I say, to a discerning spirit there is nothing so sweet, so comely.
“I have seen an end of all perfection,” but none of thy law. “Thy word is
sweeter to me than the honey, or the honey comb.” If a soul be
prepossessed with the love of the world, and the lusts of the world, it
cannot savour and taste of them, that vicious quality in the mind will
make the pleasant gospel unpleasant. “I piped unto you and ye have not
danced.” But however, the scriptures are then most profitable when they
are least pleasant to our corruptions, and, therefore, it is an absolute
and entire piece. _Ut prodesse volunt et delectare. Omne tulit punctum,
qui miscuit utile dulci._ There are sharp reproofs, and sad corrections of
his holy law which must make way for the pleasant and sweet gospel. There
is a reproof of life—a wounding before healing—that whoso refuse them,
despise their own soul, but “the ear that heareth them abideth among the
wise,” Prov. xv 31, 32. Woe unto that soul that correction or reproof or
threatening is grievous unto, “he shall die,” Prov. xv. 10, “he is
brutish,” Prov. xii. 1. There is a generation of men that can endure to
hear nothing but gospel promises, that cry out against all reproving of
sins, and preaching of God’s wrath against unbelieving sinners as legal,
and meddling with other men’s matters, especially if they reprove the sins
of rulers, their public state enormities, as if the whole word of God were
not profitable, as if reproofs were not as wholesome as consolations, as
if threatenings did not contribute to make men flee from the wrath to come
into a city of refuge. Let such persons read their own character out of
wise Solomon, “Correction is grievous to them that forsake the way.”
“Rebuke a wise man, and he will love thee, give instruction to a wise man,
and he will be yet wiser,” Prov. ix. 8, 9. If we were pleasers of men,
then were we not the servants of Jesus Christ, let us strive to profit
men, but not to please them. Peace, peace, which men’s own hearts fancy,
would please them, but it were better for them to be awakened out of that
dream, by reproof, by correction, and he that will do so, shall “find more
favour of him afterwards, than he that flattereth with the tongue,” Prov.
xxviii. 23.
Well then, let this be established in your hearts as the foundation of all
true religion, that the scriptures are the word of the eternal God, and
that they contain a perfect and exact rule both of glorifying God and of
the way to enjoy him. They can make you perfect to every good work. I
shall say no more on this, but beseech you, as you love your own souls, be
acquainting yourselves with them. You will hear, in these days of men
pretending to more divine and spiritual discoveries and revelations than
the scriptures contain but, my brethren, these can make you “wise to
salvation,” these can make you “perfect to every good work.” Then, what
needs more? All that is besides salvation, and beyond perfection, count it
superfluous and vain, if not worse, if not diabolical. Let others be wise
to their own destruction,—let them establish their own imaginations for
the word of God, and rule of their faith,—but hold you fast what you have
received, and “contend earnestly for it.” Add nothing, and diminish
nothing, let this lamp shine “till the day dawn, ’till the morning of the
resurrection,” and walk ye in the light of it, and do not kindle any other
sparkles, else ye shall lie down in the grave in sorrow, and rise in
sorrow. Take the word of God as the only rule, and the perfect rule,—a
rule for all your actions, civil, natural, and religious, for all must be
done to his glory, and his word teacheth how to attain to that end. Let
not your imaginations, let not others example, let not the preaching of
men, let not the conclusions and acts of Assemblies be your rule, but in
as far as you find them agreeing with the perfect rule of God’s holy word.
All other rules are _regulæ regulatæ_, they are but like publications and
intimations of the rule itself. Ordinances of assemblies are but like the
herald promulgation of the king’s statute and law, if it vary in any thing
from his intention, it is not valid and binding. I beseech you, take the
scriptures for the rule of your walking or else you will wander, the
scripture is _regula regulans_, a ruling rule. If you be not acquainted
with it, you must follow the opinions or examples of other men, and what
if they lead you unto destruction?
Lecture IV.
The Scriptures Reveal Eternal Life Through Jesus Christ
John v. 39—“Search the scriptures, for in them ye think ye have
eternal life, and they are they which testify of me.” Eph. ii.
20—“And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and
prophets.”
As in darkness there is need of a lantern without and the light of the
eyes within—for neither can we see in darkness without some lamp though we
have never so good eyes, nor yet see without eyes, though in never so
clear a sunshine—so there is absolute need for the guiding of our feet in
the dangerous and dark paths to eternal life (that are full of pits and
snares,) of the lamp, or word written or preached, without us, and the
illumination of the Holy Ghost within us. These are conjoined, Isa. liv.
21, “This is my covenant,” “The Spirit that is upon thee, and my words
which I have put in thy mouth, will not depart out of thy mouth, nor out
of the mouth of thy seed,” &c. There are words without, and there must
needs be a spirit within, which makes us to behold the truth and grace
contained in these words. There is a law written without, with pen and
ink, and there is a law written within, upon the heart, with the Spirit of
the living God. The law without is the pattern and exact copy, the law
within, is the transcript or the image of God upon the heart, framed and
fashioned according to the similitude of it, 2 Cor. iii. 3, Heb. viii. 10.
So then, there needs be no more question about the divine authority of the
scriptures among those who have their senses exercised to discern between
good and ill, than among men who see and taste, concerning light and
darkness, sweet and bitter. The persuasion of a Christian is fetched
deeper than the reasons of men. Their faith is “the evidence of things not
seen.” It is an eye, a supernatural eye whereby a soul beholds that
majesty and excellency of God shining in the word, which, though it shine
about the rest of the world, yet tis not seen, because they cannot know it
nor discern it. Wonder not that the multitude of men cannot believe the
report that is made, that there are few who find any such excellency and
sweetness in the gospel as is reported, because saith Isaiah, liii. 1, the
arm of “the Lord is not revealed to them.” The hand of God must first
write on their heart, ere they understand the writings of the scriptures,
his arm must create an eye in their souls, an internal light, before it
can behold that glorious brightness of God shining in the word. The word
is God’s testimony of himself, of his grace and mercy, and good will to
mankind. Now no man can receive this testimony, unless it be sealed and
confirmed by the Holy Ghost into the heart, saith Peter, “We are his
witnesses of these things and so is also the Holy Ghost whom God hath
given to them that obey him,” Acts v. 32. The word witnesses to the ear,
and the Spirit testifieth to our spirits, the truth and worth of that, and
therefore the Spirit is a seal and a witness. The word is the Lord’s voice
to his own children, bastards cannot know it, “but my sheep know my
voice,” John x. 4, 16. You know no difference between the bleating of one
sheep from another, but the poor lambs know their mother’s voice, there is
a secret instinct of nature that is more powerful than many marks and
signs, even so those who are begotten of God know his voice,—they discern
that in it which all the world that hear it cannot discern—there is a
sympathy between their souls and that living word. That word is the
immortal seed they are begotten of and there is a natural instinct to love
that, and to meditate in it, such an inclination to it, as in new born
babes to the breasts, so the children of God do desire the sincere milk of
the word, that they may grow thereby, as they were born of it, 1 Pet. ii.
2. In those scriptures which we read in your audience, you have something
of their excellency, and our duty. There is a rich jewel in them, a
precious pearl in that field, even Jesus Christ and in him eternal life;
and therefore we ought to search the scriptures for this jewel, to dig in
the field for this pearl, the doctrine of the prophets and apostles, as a
sure foundation whereupon souls may build their eternal felicity, and the
hope of it. Jesus Christ is the very chief stone in that foundation,
whereupon the weight of all the saints and all their hope hangs. And
therefore we ought to lean the weight of our souls only to this truth of
God, and build our faith only upon it, and square our practice only by it.
We shall speak something of the first, that it may be a spur to the
second. The Jews had some respective opinion of the word of God; they knew
that in them was eternal life; they thought it a doctrine of life and
happiness, and so cried up Moses’ writings, but they would not believe
Christ’s words. They erred, not understanding the scriptures, and so set
the writings of Moses’ law at variance with the preaching of Christ’s
gospel. What a pitiful mistake was this! They thought they had eternal
life in the scriptures, and yet they did not receive nor acknowledge him
whom to know was eternal life. Therefore our Lord Jesus sends them back
again to the scriptures:—“Go and search them; you think, and you think
well, that in them ye may find the way to eternal life; but while you seek
it in them you mistake it; these scriptures testify of me, the end of the
law, but you cannot behold the end of that ministry, because of the
blindness of your hearts, (Rom. x. 3; 2 Cor. iii. 13, 14.) Therefore
search again, unfold the ceremonies; I am wrapt in them, and life eternal
with me. Dig up the law till you find the bottom of God’s purpose in
it,—till you find the end of the ministration,—and you shall find me, ‘the
way, the truth, and life;’ and so you shall have that eternal life which
now you do but think you have, and are beguiled. While you seek it out of
me, in vain you think you have it, for it is not in the scriptures, but
because they testify of me, the life and the light of men.” May not this
now commend the word to us? eternal life is in it. Other writings and
discourses may tickle the ears with some pleasing eloquence, but that is
vanishing; it is but like a musician’s voice. Some may represent some
petty and momentary advantage, but how soon shall an end be put to all
that? So that within a little time the advantage of all the books of the
world shall be gone. The statutes and laws of kings and parliaments can
reach no further than some temporal reward or punishment; their highest
pain is the killing of this body; their highest reward is some evanishing
and fading honour, or perishing riches; but “he showeth his word and
judgments unto us, and hath not dealt so with any nation,” Psal. cxlvii.
19, 20. And no nation under the whole heaven hath such laws and
ordinances; eternal life and eternal death is wrapt up in them. These are
rewards and punishments suitable to the majesty and magnificence of the
eternal Lawgiver. Consider, I beseech you, what is folded up here,—the
scriptures show the path of life; life is of all things the most
excellent, and comes nearest the blessed being of God. When we say _life_,
we understand a blessed life, that only deserves the name. Now this we
have lost in Adam. Death is passed upon all men, but that death is not the
worst: ’tis but a consequence of a soul-death. The immortal soul—whose
life consisteth in communion with God, and peace with him—is separated
from him by sin, and so killed, when it is cut off from the fountain of
life; what a life can it have more, than a beam that is cut off by the
intervention of a dark body from the sun. Now then, what a blessed
doctrine must it be that brings to light, life and immortality? especially
when we have so miserably lost it, and involved our souls into an eternal
death. Life is precious in itself, but much more precious to one condemned
to die,—to be caught out of the paws of the lion,—to be brought back from
the gibbet. O how will that commend the favour of a little more time in
the world! But then if we knew what an eternal misery we are involved
into, and stand under a sentence binding us over to such an inconceivable
and insupportable punishment as is the curse and wrath of God; O how
precious an esteem would souls have of the scriptures, how would they be
sweet unto their soul, because they show unto us a way of escaping that
pit of misery, and a way of attaining eternal blessedness as satisfying
and glorious as the misery would have been vexing and tormenting! O that
ye would once lay these in the balance together,—this present life and
life eternal! Know ye not that your souls are created for eternity; that
they will eternally survive all these present things? Now how do ye
imagine they shall live after this life? Your thoughts and projects and
designs are confined within the poor narrow bounds of your time. When you
die, in that day your thoughts shall perish. All your imaginations and
purposes and providences shall have an end then; they reach no farther
than that time. And if you should wholly perish too, it were not so much
matter. But for all your purposes and projects to come to an end, when you
are but beginning to live, and enter eternity, that is lamentable indeed!
Therefore I say, consider what ye are doing, weigh these in a
balance,—eternal life and the present life; if there were no more
difference but the continuance of the one, and the shortness of the
other,—that the world’s standing is but as one day, one moment to
eternity,—that ought to preponderate in your souls. Do we not here flee
away as a shadow upon the mountains? Are we not as a vapour that ascends,
and for a little time appears a solid body, and then presently vanisheth?
Do we not come all into the stage of the world, as for an hour, to act our
part and be gone; now then, what is this to endless eternity? When you
have continued as long as since the world began, you are no nearer the end
of it. Ought not that estate then to be most in your eyes, how to lay up a
foundation for the time to come? But then, compare the misery and the
vexation of this life with the glory and felicity of this eternal life.
What are our days? But few and full of trouble. Or, if you will, take the
most blessed estate you have seen and heard of in this world, of kings and
rich men, and help all the defects of it by your imaginations; suppose
unto yourselves the height and pitch of glory and abundance and power that
is attainable on earth; and when your fancy hath busked up such a
felicity, compare it with an eternal life: O how will that vanish out of
your imaginations! If so be you know any thing of the life to come, you
will even think that an odious comparison,—you will think all that earthly
felicity but light as vanity, “every man at his best estate is altogether
vanity.” Eternal life will weigh down eternally, 2 Cor. iv. 17, 18. O but
it hath an exceeding weight in itself,—one moment of it, one hour’s
possession and taste of it! but then what shall the endless endurance of
it add to its weight? Now there are many that presume they have a right to
eternal life, as the Jews did. You think, saith he, that you have it; you
think well, that you think ’tis only to be found in the scriptures; but
you vainly think that you have found it in them: and there is this reason
for it, because “you will not come to me that you might have life,” John
v. 40. If you did understand the true meaning of the scriptures, and did
not rest on the outward letter and ordinances, you would receive the
testimony that the scriptures give of me. But now you bear not me, the
Father’s substantial Word, therefore “ye have not his word abiding in
you,” ver. 38. There was nothing more general among that people, than a
vain carnal confidence and presumption of being God’s people, and having
interest in the promise of life eternal, as it is this day in the visible
church. There is a multitude that are Christians only in the letter, and
not in the spirit, that would never admit any question concerning this
great matter of having eternal life; and so by not questioning it, they
come to think they have it, and by degrees their conjectures and thoughts
about this ariseth to the stability of some feigned and strong persuasion
of it. In the Old Testament the Lord strikes at the root of their
persuasions, by discovering unto them how vain a thing it was, and how
abominable it was before him, to have an external profession of being his
people, and to glory in external ordinances and privileges, and yet to
neglect altogether the purging of their hearts and consciences from lust
and idol-sins, and to make no conscience of walking righteously towards
men. Their profession was contradicted by their practice, “Will ye steal,
murder, and commit adultery, and yet come and stand in my house?” Jer.
vii. 9, 10. Doth not that say as much as if I had given you liberty to do
all these abominations? Even so it is this day; the most part have no more
of Christianity but a name. They have some outward privileges of baptism
and hearing the word; and, it may be, have a form of knowledge, and a form
of worship; but in the meantime they are not baptized in heart,—they are
in all their conversation even conformed to the heathen world,—they hate
personal reformation, and think it too precise and needless. Now, I say,
such are many of you, and yet you would not take well to have it
questioned whether ye shall be partakers of eternal life. You think you
are wronged when that is called in question. Oh that it were beyond all
question indeed! But know assuredly that you are but Christians in the
letter,—in the flesh and not in the spirit. Many of you have not so much
as “a form of knowledge”—have not so much as the letter of religion. You
have heard some names in the preaching often repeated,—as Christ, and God,
and faith, and heaven, and hell,—and you know no more of these but the
name. You consider not and meditate not on them, and though you know the
truth of the word, yet the word abideth not nor dwelleth in you. You have
it in your mouth, you have it in your mind or understanding, but it is not
received in love, it doth not dwell in the heart. “Let the word of Christ
dwell in you richly,” Col. iii. 16. You have it imprisoned in your minds,
and shut up in a corner where it is useless, and can do no more but
witness against you, and scarce that. As the Gentiles incarcerated and
detained the truth of God, written by nature within them, in
unrighteousness, (Rom. i. 18) so do many of you detain the knowledge of
his word in unrighteousness. It hath no place in the heart, gets no
liberty and freedom to walk through the affections and so to order the
conversation of men, and therefore the most part of men do but fancy to
themselves an interest and right to eternal life. You think it, and do but
think it, it is but a strong imagination, that hath no strength from the
grounds of it, no stability from any evidence or promise, but merely from
itself, or it is but a light and vain conjecture that hath no strength in
it because there is no question or doubts admitted which may try the
strength of it. But then I suppose that a man could attain some answerable
walking, that he had not only a form of knowledge, but some reality of
practice, some inward heat of affection and zeal for God and godliness,
yet there is one thing that he wants, and if it be wanting will spoil all,
and it is this, which Christ reproves in the Jews, “you will not come to
me to have life, the scriptures testify of me, but you receive not their
testimony.” Suppose a man had as much equity and justice towards men,
piety towards God, and sobriety towards himself, as can be found amongst
the best of men, let him be a diligent reader of the scriptures, let him
love them, and meditate on them day and night, yet if he do not come out
of himself, and leave all his own righteousness as dung behind him, that
he may be found in Jesus Christ, he hath no life, he cannot have any right
to the eternal. You may think this is a strange assertion, that if a man
had the righteousness and holiness of an angel, yet he could not be saved
without denying all that, and fleeing to Christ as an ungodly man, and you
may think it as strange a supposal, that any person that reads the
scriptures, and walks righteously, and hath a zeal towards God, yet are
such as will not come to Christ and will not hear him whom the Lord hath
sent.
But the first is the very substance of the gospel. “There is none other
name whereby men may be saved, but by Jesus Christ,” Acts iv. 12. Life
eternal is all within him. All the treasures of grace and wisdom and
knowledge are seated in him, Col. i. 19, ii. 3. All the light of life and
salvation is embodied in this son of righteousness, since the eclipse of
man’s felicity in the garden. Adam was a living soul, but he lost his own
life, and killed his posterity. Christ Jesus, the second common man in the
world, is a quickening spirit. He hath not only life in himself, but he
gives it more abundantly, and therefore you have it so often repeated in
John, who was the disciple most acquainted with Christ, “in him was life,
and the life was the light of men,” John i. 4. And he is “the bread of
life, that gives life to the world,” John vi. 33, 35. He is “the
resurrection and the life,” xi. 23, and “the way, the truth, and the
life,” xiv. 6. The scriptures do not contain eternal life, but in as far
as they lead to him who is life, and whom to know and embrace is eternal
life and therefore, saith he, “these are they which testify of me.” Man
lived immediately in God when he was in innocency, he had life in himself
from God, but then he began to live in himself without dependence on God
the fountain of life, and this himself being interposed between God and
life, it vanished even as a beam by the intervening of any gross body
between it and the sun. Now man’s light and life being thus eclipsed and
cut off, the Lord is pleased to let all fulness dwell in his Son Jesus
Christ, and the fulness of the Godhead dwelt in him bodily, Col ii. 9,
that since there was no access immediately to God for life (a flaming
fire, and sword of divine justice compassing and guarding the tree of
life, lest man should touch it) there might be access to God in a mediator
like unto us that we might come to him, and might have life from God by
the intervention of Jesus Christ.
Look then what is in the Holy Scriptures, and you shall find it but a
letter of death and ministration of condemnation while it is separated
from him. Christ is the very life and spirit of the scriptures by whose
virtue they quicken our souls. If you consider the perfect rule of
righteousness in the law, you cannot find life there, because you cannot
be conformed unto it, the holiest man offends in every thing, and that
holy law being violated in any thing will send thee to hell with a cure.
“Cursed is he that abideth not in all things.” If you look upon the
promise of life, “do this and live,” what comfort can you find in it,
except you could find doing in yourselves? And can any man living find
such exact obedience as the law requires? There is a mistake among many.
They conceive that the Lord cannot but be well pleased with them if they
do what they can. But be not deceived,—the law of God requires perfect
doing, it will not compound with thee and come down in its terms, not one
jot of the rigour of it will be remitted. If you cannot do all that is
commanded, all you do will not satisfy that promise, therefore thou must
be turned over from the promise of life to the curse, and there thou shalt
find thy name written. Therefore it is absolutely necessary that Jesus
Christ be made under the law, and give obedience in all things, even to
the death of the cross, and so be made a curse for us, and sin for us,
even he “who knew no sin.” And thus in him you find the law fulfilled,
justice satisfied, and God pleased. In him you find the promise of life
indeed established in a better and surer way than was first propounded.
You find life by his death, you find life in his doing for you. And again,
consider the ceremonial law,—what were all those sacrifices and
ceremonies? Did God delight in them? Could he savour their incense and
sweet smells, and eat the fat of lambs and be pacified? No, he detects and
abhors such abominations! Because that people did stay in the letter, and
went no further than the ceremony, he declares that it was as great
abomination to him as the offering up of a dog. While they were separated
from Jesus Christ, in whom his soul rested and was pacified, they were not
expiations, but provocations; they were not propitiations for sin, but
abominations in themselves. But take these as the shadow of such a living
substance; take them as remembrances of him who was to come, and behold
Jesus Christ lying in these swaddling clothes of ceremonies, until the
fulness of time should come, that he might be manifested in the flesh, and
so you shall find eternal life in those dead beasts, in those dumb
ceremonies. If you consider this Lamb of God slain in all these
sacrifices, from the beginning of the world, then you present a sweet
smelling savour to God,—then you offer the true propitiation for the sins
of the world,—then he will delight more in that sacrifice than all other
personal obedience.
But what if I should say, that the gospel itself is a killing letter, and
ministration of death, being severed from Christ? I should say nothing
amiss, but what Paul speaketh, that his gospel was “a savour of death” to
many. Take the most powerful preaching, the most sweet discourse, the most
plain writings of the free grace and salvation in the gospel,—take all the
preaching of Jesus Christ himself and his apostles,—and you shall not find
life in them, unless ye be led by that Spirit of Christ unto himself, who
is “the resurrection and the life.” It will no more save you than the
covenant of works, unless that word abide and dwell in your hearts, to
make you believe in him, and embrace him with your souls, whom God hath
sent. Suppose you heard all, and heard it gladly, and learned it, and
could discourse well upon it, and teach others, yet if you be not driven
out of yourselves, out of your own righteousness, as well as sins, and
pursued to this city of refuge, Jesus Christ, you have not eternal life.
Your knowledge of the truth of the gospel, and your obedience to God’s
law, will certainly kill you, and as certainly as your ignorance and
disobedience, unless you have embraced in your soul that good thing Jesus
Christ, contained in these truths, who is the diamond of that golden ring
of the scriptures, and unless your soul embrace these promises as
soul-saving, as containing the chief good, and “worthy of all
acceptation,” as well as your mind receive these as true and faithful
sayings, 1 Tim. i. 15.
Thus ye see Jesus Christ is either the subject of all in the scriptures,
or the end of it all. He is the very proper subject of the gospel. Paul
knew nothing but Christ crucified in his preaching, and he is the very end
and scope “of the law for righteousness,” Rom. x. 3. All the preaching of
a covenant of works, all the curses and threatenings of the Bible, all the
rigid exactions of obedience, all come to this one great design, not that
we set about such a walking to please God, or do something to pacify him,
but that we being concluded under sin and wrath on the one hand, and an
impossibility to save ourselves on the other hand, Gal. iii. 22, Rom. v.
20, 21, may be pursued unto Jesus Christ for righteousness and life, who
is both able to save us and ready to welcome us. Therefore, the Gospel
opens the door of salvation in Christ, the law is behind us with fire and
sword, and destruction pursuing us, and all for this end, that sinners may
come to him and have life. Thus the law is made the pedagogue of the soul
to lead to Christ, Christ is behind us, cursing, condemning, threatening
us, and he is before with stretched out arms ready to receive us, bless
us, and save us, inviting, promising, exhorting to have life. Christ is on
Mount Sinai, delivering the law with thunders, Acts vii. 38, and he is on
the Mount Zion in the calm voice, he is both upon the mountain of cursings
and blessings, and on both doing the part of a mediator, Gal. iii. 10, 20.
It is love that is in his heart which made him first cover his countenance
with frowns and threats; and it is love that again displays itself in his
smiling countenance. Thus souls are enclosed with love pursuing and love
receiving, and thus the law, which seems most contrary to the Gospel,
testifies of Christ. It gives him this testimony, that except Salvation be
in him, it is nowhere else. The law says, “It is not in me, seek it not in
obedience, I can do nothing but destroy you, if you abide under my
jurisdiction.” The ceremonies and sacrifices say, “If you can behold the
end of this ministry,—if a veil be not upon your hearts, as it was upon
Moses’ face, (2 Cor. iii. 13) you may see where it is, it is not in your
obedience, but in the death and suffering of the Son of God whom we
represent.” Then the Gospel takes all these coverings and veils away and
gives a plain and open testimony of him “There is no name under heaven to
be saved by, but Christ’s.” The Old Testament spake by figures and signs,
as dumb men do but the New speaks in plain words and with open face. Now I
say, for all this that there is no salvation but in him, yet many
souls—not only those who live in their gross sins and have no form of
godliness, but even the better sort of people that have some “knowledge”
and civility and a kind of “zeal for God,”—yet they do not “come to him
that they may have life,” they do not “submit to the righteousness of
God,” Rom. x. 2, 3. Here is the march that divides the ways of heaven and
hell,—coming to Jesus Christ, and forsaking ourselves. The confidence of
these souls is chiefly or only in that little knowledge, or zeal, or
profession they have, they do not as really abhor themselves for their own
righteousness as for their unrighteousness. They make that the covering of
their nakedness and filthiness which is in itself as menstruous and
unclean as any thing. It is now the very propension and natural
inclination of our hearts, to stand upright in ourselves Faith bows a
soul’s back to take on Christ’s righteousness, but presumption lifts up a
soul upon its own bottom. “How can ye believe that seek honour one of
another?” The engagements of the soul to its own credit or estimation,—the
engagements of self-love and self honour,—do lift up a soul that it cannot
submit to God’s righteousness, to righteousness in another. And therefore
many do dream and think that they have eternal life, who shall awake in
the end, and find that it was but a dream, a night-fancy.
Now from all this I would enforce this duty upon your consciences, to
“search the Scriptures” if you think to have eternal life, search them if
ye would “know Christ, whom to know is life eternal,” then again search
them, for “these are they that testify of him.” Searching imports
diligence,—much diligence,—it is a serious work, it is not a common
seeking of an easy and common thing, but a search and scrutiny for some
hidden thing, for some special thing. It is not bare reading of the
Scriptures that will answer this duty, except it be diligent and daily
reading, and it is not that alone, except the spirit within meditate on
them, and by meditation accomplish a diligent search. There is some hidden
secret that you must search for that is enclosed within the covering of
words and sentences. There is a mystery of wisdom that you must apply your
hearts to search out, Eccl. vii. 25. Jesus Christ is the treasure that is
hid in this field. O a precious treasure of eternal life! Now then, souls,
search into the fields of the Scriptures for him “as for hid treasure,”
Prov. ii. 4. It is not only truth you must seek and buy, and not sell it,
but it is life you would search, here is an object that may not only take
up your understandings, but satisfy your hearts. Think not you have found
all when you have found truth there, and learned it, no, except you have
found life there, you have found nothing, you have missed the treasure. If
you would profit by the Scriptures, you must bring both your understanding
and your affections to them, and depart not till they both return full. If
you bring your understanding to seek the truth, you may find truth, but
not truly, you may find it, but you are not found of it. You may lead
truth captive, and enclose it in a prison of your mind, and encompass it
about with a guard of corrupt affections, that it shall have no issue, no
outgoing to the rest of your souls and ways, and no influence on them. You
may “know the truth,” but you are not “known of it,” nor brought into
captivity to the obedience of it. The treasure that is hid in the
Scriptures is Jesus Christ, whose entire and perfect name is, “Way, Truth,
and Life.” He is a living truth and true life, therefore Christ is the
adequate object of the soul, commensurable to all its faculties. He has
truth in him to satisfy the mind, and has life and goodness in him to
satiate the heart, therefore if thou wouldest find Jesus Christ, bring thy
whole soul to seek him, as Paul expresseth it. He is true and faithful,
and “worthy of all acceptation,” then bring thy judgment to find the light
of truth, and thy affections to embrace the life of goodness that is in
him. Now, as much as ye find of him, so much have ye profited in the
Scriptures. If you find commands there which you cannot obey, search
again, and you may find strength under that command. Dig a little deeper,
and you shall find Jesus the end of an impossible command. And when you
have found him, you have found life and strength to obey, and you have
found a propitiation and sacrifice for transgressing and not obeying. If
you find curses in it, search again, and you shall find Jesus Christ under
that, “made a curse for us,” you shall find him “the end of the law for
righteousness to every one that believes.” When you know all the letter of
the Scripture, yet you must search into the spirit of it, that it may be
imprinted into your spirits. All you know does you no good but as it is
received in love, unless your souls become a “living epistle,” and the
word without be written on the heart, you have found nothing. As for you
that cannot read the Scriptures, if it be possible, take that pains to
learn to read them. O if you knew what they contain, and whom they bear
witness of, you would have little quietness till you could read at least
his love-epistles to sinners! And if you cannot learn, be not discouraged,
but if your desires within be fervent, your endeavours to hear it read by
others will be more earnest. But it is not so much the reading of much of
it that profiteth, as the pondering of these things in your hearts, and
digesting them by frequent meditation, till they become the food of the
soul. This was David’s way, and by this he grew to the stature of a tall
and well bodied Christian.
Lecture V.
Of The Scriptures
Eph. ii. 20.—“And are built upon the foundation of the apostles
and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone.”
Believers are “the temple of the living God,” in which he dwells and
walks, 2 Cor. vi. 16. Every one of them is a little sanctuary and temple
to his Majesty, “sanctify the Lord of hosts in your hearts.” Though he be
“the high and lofty One that inhabits eternity,” yet he is pleased to come
down to this poor cottage of a creature’s heart, and dwell in it. Is not
this as great a humbling and condescending for the Father to come down off
his throne of glory, to the poor base footstool of the creature’s soul, as
for the Son to come down in the state of a servant, and become in the form
of sinful flesh? But then he is a temple and sanctuary to them. “And he
shall be for a sanctuary,” (Isa. viii. 14.) a place of refuge, a secret
hiding place. Now, as every one is a little separated retired temple, so
they all conjoined make up one temple, one visible body, in which he
dwells. Therefore Peter calls them “living stones built up a spiritual
house” to God, 1 Pet. ii. 5. All these little temples make up one house
and temple fitly joined together, in which God shows manifest signs of his
presence and working. Unto this the apostle in this place alludes. The
communion and union of Christians with God is of such a nature, that all
the relations and points of conjunction in the creatures are taken to
resemble it and hold it out to us. We are citizens, saith he, and
domestics, household-men, and so dwell in his house, and then we are this
house besides. Now ye know there are two principal things in a house—the
foundation and the cornerstone, the one supports the building the other
unites it and holds it together. These two parts of this spiritual
building are here pointed at. The foundation of every particular stone,
and of the whole building, is the doctrine of the prophets and apostles,
as holding out Jesus Christ to souls, “the rock on which our house shall
be builded,” not the apostles or prophets, far less pastors and teachers
since,—for they are but at best, “workers together with God, and employed
in the building of the house,” nor yet their doctrine, but as it holds out
that “sure foundation” that God has laid in Zion, (Isa. xxviii. 16.) which
is Jesus Christ for “other foundation can no man lay.” And then, “the
corner stone” is that same Jesus Christ, who reaches from the bottom even
to the top of the building, and immediately touches every stone, and both
quickens it in itself, and unites them together.
Well then, here is a sure foundation to build our eternal happiness upon,
the word of God, that endures for ever, holds it out to us. All men are
building upon something. Every man is about some establishment of his
hopes,—lays some foundation of his confidence which he may stand upon.
They are one of the two that Christ speaks of, Luke vi. 48, 49; one builds
on the rock, another on the sand. Now as the foundation is, so is the
house. A changeable foundation makes a falling house, a sure foundation
makes an unchangeable house, a house without a foundation will prove
quickly no house. Now whatsoever men build their hope and confidence
upon,—besides the word of God, his sure promise and sure covenant, and
Jesus Christ in them,—they build upon no foundation, or upon a sandy
foundation. “All flesh is grass, and the flower and perfection of it is as
the flower of the field.” Here is the name and character of all created
perfections,—of the most excellent endowments of mind,—of all the specious
actions of man it is all but vanishing and vanity! “Every man at his best
estate is such, yea, altogether such.” You who have no more to build upon
but your prosperity and wealth, O that is but sand and dung! Would any man
build a house upon a dunghill? You who have no other hope but in your own
good prayers and meanings,—your own reformations and repentances,—your
professions and practices—know this, that your hope is like a spider’s
house, like the web that she has laboriously exercised herself about all
the week over, and then when you lean upon that house it shall fall
through, and not sustain your weight. Whatsoever it be, besides this
“living stone,” Jesus Christ, who is the very substance of the word and
promises, it shall undoubtedly prove thy shame and confusion. But behold
the opposition the prophet makes between the word and these other things.
“The word of our God shall stand for ever,” Isa. xl. 6-8. And therefore
Peter makes it an “incorruptible seed” of which believers are begotten, 1
Peter i. 23. It is the unchangeable truth and immutable faithfulness of
God that makes his word so sure, “it is builded up to the heavens.”
Therefore the Psalmist often commends the word of the Lord as “a tried
word,”—as “purified seven times.” It hath endured the trial and proof of
all men,—of all temptations—of all generations. It hath often been put in
the furnace of questions and doubtings,—it hath often been tried in the
fire of afflictions,—but it came forth like pure gold, without dross. This
is faith’s foundation, “God hath spoken in his holiness,” and therefore,
though “all men be liars, yet God will be found true, he deceives none,
and is deceived of none.” The Lord hath taken a latitude to himself in his
working, he loves to show his sovereignty in much of that, and therefore
he changes it in men and upon men as he pleaseth. Yet he hath condescended
to limit and bound himself by his word, and in this to show his
faithfulness. And therefore, though heaven and earth should pass
away,—though he should annihilate this world, and create new ones,—yet
“not one jot of his word shall fail.” The earth is established sure,
though it hath no foundation, for the word of his command supports it, and
yet a believer’s confidence is upon a surer ground. “Though the earth
should be removed, yet it cannot pass or fail” saith our Lord. And
therefore the Psalmist useth to boast in God, that though the earth were
moved, and the floods lifted up their voice, yet he would not fear,
because his foundation was unshaken for all that, the word is not moved
when the world is moved, and therefore he was not moved. The world’s
stability depends upon a word of command, but our salvation depends on a
word of promise. Now ye know, promises put an obligation upon the person,
which commands do not. A man may change his commands as he pleases to his
children or servants, but he may not change his promises. Therefore the
promises of God put an obligation upon him who is truth itself, not to
fail in performance, or rather he is to himself, by his unchangeable will
and good pleasure, by his faithfulness and truth, an obliging and binding
law. When no creature could set bounds to him, he encloses himself within
the bounds of promises to us, and gives all flesh liberty to challenge him
if he be not faithful.
Now all “the promises of God are yea and amen in Jesus Christ,” that is,
established and confirmed in him. Christ is the surety of them, and so the
certainty and stability of them depend upon him, at least to our sense,
for God in all his dealing condescends to our weakness that we may have
strong consolation. A promise might suffice to ground our faith, but he
addeth an oath to his promise, and he takes Christ surety for the
performance, and therefore Christ may be called the truth indeed,—the
substantial word of God,—for he is the very substance of the written and
preached word. And then he is the certainty and assurance of it, the
Scriptures testify of him, and lead us to this “rock higher than we,” to
build upon, and against this “the gates of hell cannot prevail.” If the
word lead not a soul into Christ himself, that soul hath no foundation.
Though thou hear the word,—though thou know the word,—yea, suppose thou
couldest teach others, and instruct the ignorant,—yet all that will be no
foundation, as good as none, except thou do it. And what is it to do the
word but believe in him whom the word testifies of? This is the work of
God, to resign thy soul to his mercies and merits, and have no confidence
in the flesh, to scrape out all the rubbish of works and performances and
parts out of the foundation, and singly to roll thy soul’s weight upon
God’s promises and Christ’s purchase, to look with Paul on all things
besides, in thee, and about thee, as dung and dross that thou can lean no
weight upon, and to remove that dunghill from the foundation of thy hope,
that Jesus Christ may be the only foundation of thy soul, as God hath laid
him in the church for “a sure foundation that whoso believeth in him may
not be ashamed.” Whatever besides a soul be established on, though it
appear very solid, and the soul be settled and fixed upon it, yet a day
will come that will unsettle that soul and raze that foundation. Either it
shall be now done in thy conscience, or it must be done at length, when
that great tempest of God’s indignation shall blow from heaven “against
all unrighteousness of men,” in the day of accounts. Then shall thy house
fall, and the fall of it shall be great! But a soul established upon the
sure promises and upon Christ, in whom they “are yea and amen” shall abide
that storm, and in that day have confidence before God,—have wherewith to
answer in Jesus Christ, all the challenges of divine justice, and the
accusations of conscience. “He that trusts in him shall be as mount Sion,
which cannot be moved.” You see all things else change, and therefore
men’s hopes and joys perish. Even here the temptations and revolutions of
the times undermine their confidence and joy, and the blasts of the
northern wind of affliction blow away their hopes.
Now as Christ is “the foundation,” so he is “the corner stone” of the
building. It is Christ who hath removed that “partition wall between Jews
and Gentiles, even the ceremonies of the one, and the atheism of the
other.” “He is our peace, who hath made both one.” The two sides of the
house of God are united by this corner-stone, Jesus Christ. Thus we, who
were the temples of Satan, are made the temples of God. Thus poor stranger
Gentiles, who had no interest in the covenant of promises, come to share
with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and to be founded upon the doctrine of the
prophets who taught the Jewish church. Christ is the bond of Christians;
this is “the head” into which all the members should grow up into a body.
Distance of place, difference of nations, distinction of languages, all
these cannot separate the members of Jesus Christ, they are more
one—though consisting of divers nations, tongues, and customs and
dispositions—than the people of one nation, or children of one family, for
one Lord, one spirit, unites all. Alas, that all are not united in
affection and judgment! Why do the sides of this house contend, and
wrestle one against another, when there is such a cornerstone joining them
together? Are there not many Christians who cannot endure to look upon one
another, who are yet both placed in one building of the temple of God?
Alas, this is sad and shameful! But that which I would especially have
observed in this, is, that Jesus Christ is such a foundation that reacheth
throughout the whole building, and immediately toucheth every stone of the
building. It is such a foundation as riseth from the bottom to the top,
and therefore Jesus Christ is both “the author and finisher of our faith,”
“the beginning and the end.” The first stone and the last stone of our
building must rise upon him, and by him, the least degree of grace and the
greatest perfection of it, both are in him, and therefore Christians
should be most dependent creatures,—dependent in their first being, and in
after well-being,—in their being, and growing, wholly dependent upon
Christ; that out “of his fulness they may receive grace,” and then more
“grace for grace,” that all may appear to be grace indeed.
Now, I beseech you, my beloved in the Lord, to know whereupon ye are
builded, or ought to be builded. There are two great errors in the time,
take heed of them; one is the doctrine of some, and another is the
practice of the most part. Some do prefer their own fancies and
night-dreams, and the imaginations of their own heart, to the word of God,
and upon pretence of revelation of new light,(135) do cast a mist upon
that word of God which is a light that hath shined from the beginning. “Be
not deceived,” but “try the spirits whether they be of God,” or not. There
are many pretend to much of the Spirit, and therefore cry out against the
word, as letter, as flesh. But, my brethren, believe not every doctrine
that calls itself a spirit. That spirit is not of God that hears not God’s
voice as Christ reasoneth against the Jews. Seek ye more of the Spirit of
Christ which he promiseth, who is a Spirit that teacheth all things, and
bringeth to remembrance these blessed sayings, and leads us in all truth.
It shall be both safest and sweetest to you to meditate on that word of
the prophets and apostles, and the entrance into it shall give you
light,—an old light which was from the beginning, and therefore a true
light—for all truth is eternal—and yet a new light to your sense and
feeling. It is both an old command, and a new command; an old word, and a
new word; if thou search it by the Spirit’s inspiration, that old word
shall be made new, that letter made spirit and life. Such are the words
that Christ speaks. But yet there are many who do not reject the
Scriptures in judgment, who, notwithstanding, do not build on them in
practice. Alas, it may be said of the most part of professed Christians
among us, that they are not built upon the foundation of the apostles and
prophets, but upon the sayings of fallible and weak men! What ground have
many of you for your faith, but because the minister saith so, you believe
so? The most part live in an implicit faith, and practise that in
themselves which they condemn in the papists. You do not labour to “search
the scriptures,” that upon that foundation you may build your faith in the
questioned truths of this age, that so you may be able to answer those
that ask a reason of the faith that is in you. Alas! simple souls, you
believe every thing, and yet really believe nothing, because you believe
not the word, as the word of the living God, but take it from men upon
their authority! Therefore when a temptation cometh, from any gainsayings
of the truth,—you cannot stand against it, because your faith hath no
foundation but the sayings of men, or acts of assemblies. And therefore,
as men whom you trust with holding out light unto you, hold out darkness
instead of light, you embrace that darkness also. But, I beseech you, be
builded upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, not upon _them_,
but upon that whereon they were builded, the infallible truths of God. You
have the Scriptures, search them; since you have reasonable souls, search
them. Other men’s faith will not save; you cannot see to walk to heaven by
other men’s light, more than you can see by their eyes. You have eyes of
your own, souls of your own, subordinate to none but the God of spirits,
and the Lord of consciences, Jesus Christ, and therefore examine all that
is spoken to you from the word, according to the word, and receive no more
upon trust from men but as you find it upon trial to be the truth of God.
Lecture VI.
What The Scriptures Principally Teach: The Ruin And Recovery Of Man. Faith
And Love Towards Christ.
2 Tim. i. 13.—“Hold fast the form of sound words, which thou hast
heard of me, in faith and love which is in Christ Jesus.”
Here is the sum of religion. Here you have a compend of the doctrine of
the Scriptures. All divine truths may be reduced to these two heads,—faith
and love; what we ought to believe, and what we ought to do. This is all
the Scriptures teach, and this is all we have to learn. What have we to
know, but what God hath revealed of himself to us? And what have we to do,
but what he commands us? In a word, what have we to learn in this world,
but to believe in Christ, and love him, and so live to him? This is the
duty of man, and this is the dignity of man, and the way to eternal life.
Therefore the Scriptures, that are given to be “a lamp to our feet, and a
guide to our paths,” contain a perfect and exact rule,—_credendorum et
faciendorum_,—of faith and manners,—of doctrine and practice. We have in
the scriptures many truths revealed to us of God, and of the works of his
hands,—many precious truths, but that which most of all concerns us, is to
know God and ourselves. This is the special excellency of the reasonable
creature, that it is made capable to know its Creator, and to reflect upon
its own being. Now, we have to know ourselves, what we are now, and what
man once was, and accordingly to know of God, what he once revealed of
himself, and what he doth now reveal. I say, the Scriptures hold out to
our consideration a twofold estate of mankind, and according to these, a
twofold revelation of the mystery of God. We look on man now, and we find
him another thing than he was once, but we do not find God one thing at
one time, and another thing at another time, for there is no “shadow of
change” in him, and “he is the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever.”
Therefore we ask not, what he was, and what he is now; but how he
manifests himself differently, according to the different estates of man.
As we find in the Scriptures, man once righteous and blessed, Eccles. vii.
29, and God making him such according to his own image, “in righteousness
and true holiness,” Col. iii. 10, Eph. iv. 24; we find him in communion
and friendship with God, set next to the divine majesty, and above the
works of his hand, and all things “under his feet.” How holy was he “and
how happy.” And happy he could not choose but be, since he was holy, being
conformed and like unto God in his will and affection,—choosing that same
delight, that same pleasure with God, in his understanding,—knowing God
and his will, and likewise, his own happiness. In such a conformity he
could not but have much communion with him, that had such conformity to
him—union being the foundation of communion—and great peace and solid
tranquillity in him.
Now, in this state of mankind God expresses his goodness and wisdom and
power, his holiness and righteousness. These are the attributes that shine
most brightly. In the very morning of the creation, God revealed himself
to man as a holy and just God, whose eyes could behold no iniquity; and
therefore he made him upright, and made a covenant of life and peace with
him, to give him immortal and eternal life,—to continue him in his happy
estate, if so be he continued in well doing, Rom. x. 5, “do this and
live.” In which covenant, indeed, there were some outbreaking of the
glorious grace and free condescendency of God, for it was no less free
grace and undeserved favour to promise life to his obedience, than now to
promise life to our faith. So that if the Lord had continued that covenant
with us, we ought to have called it grace, and would have been saved by
grace as well as now, though it be true, that there is some more occasion
given to man’s nature to boast and glory in that way, yet not at all
“before God,” Rom. iv. 2.
But we have scarcely found man in such an estate, till we have found him
sinful and miserable and fallen from his excellency. That son sinned in
the dawning of the creation, but before ye can well know what it is, it is
eclipsed and darkened with sin and misery as if the Lord had only set up
such a creature in the firmament of glory, to let him know how blessed he
could make him, and wherein his blessedness consists, and then presently
to throw him down from his excellency. When you find him mounting up to
the heavens, and spreading himself thus in holiness and happiness, like a
bay-tree, behold again, and you find him not, though you seek him, you
shall not find him, his place doth not know him. He is like one that
comes out with a great majesty upon a stage, and personates some monarch,
or emperor, in the world, and then ere you can well gather your thoughts,
to know what he is, he is turned off the stage, and appears in some base
and despicable appearance. So quickly is man stript of all those glorious
ornaments of holiness, and puts on the vile rags of sin and wretchedness,
and is cast from the throne of eminency above the creatures, and from
fellowship with God, to be a slave and servant to the dust of his feet,
and to have communion with the devil and his angels. And now, ye have man
holden out in Scripture as the only wretched piece of the creation, as the
very plague of the world the whole creation groaning under him, (Rom.
viii.) and in pain to be delivered of such a burden, of such an execration
and curse and astonishment. You find the testimony of the word condemns
him altogether, concludes him under sin, and then under a curse, and makes
all flesh guilty in God’s sight. The word speaks otherwise of us than we
think of ourselves! “Their imagination is only evil continually,” Gen. vi.
5. O then, what must our affections be, that are certainly more corrupt!
What then must our way be! All flesh hath corrupted their way, and done
abominable works, and “none doeth good,” Psal. xiv. 1, 2, 3. But many flee
in unto their good hearts as their last refuge, when they are beaten from
these outworks of their actions and ways. But the Scripture shall storm
that also. “The heart is deceitful above all things,” who can know it? it
is “desperately wicked,” Jer. xvii. 9. In a word, man is become the most
lamentable spectacle in the world, a compend of all wickedness and misery
enclosed within the walls of inability and impossibility to help himself,
shut up within a prison of despair, a linking, loathsome, and irksome
dungeon. It is like the miry pit that Jeremiah was cast into, that there
was no out-coming, and no pleasant abode in it.
Now, man’s state being thus,—nay, having made himself thus, and “sought
out” to himself such sad “inventions,” Eccl. vii. 29,—and having
“destroyed” himself, Hos. xiii. 9, What think ye? Should any pity him? If
he had fallen into such a pit of misery ignorantly and unwittingly, he had
been an object of compassion, but having cast himself headlong into it,
who should have pity on him? Or, who should “go aside to ask” how he did,
or bemoan him? Jer. xv. 5. But behold the Lord pities man as a father doth
his children, Psal. ciii. “His compassions fail not,” he comes by such a
loathsome and contemptible object, and casts his skirts over it, and
saith, “Live!” (Ezek. xvi.) and maketh it a time of love. I say, no flesh
could have expected any more of God than to make man happy and holy, and
to promise him life in well-doing, but to repair that happiness after it
was wilfully lost, and to give life to evil-doers and sinners,—O how far
was it from Adam’s expectation when he fled from God! Here then is the
wonder, that when men and angels were in expectation of the revelation of
his wrath from heaven against their wickedness, and the execution of the
curse man was concluded under, that even then God is pursuing man, and
pursues him with love, and opens up to him his very heart and bowels of
love in Jesus Christ! Behold then the second revelation and manifestation
of God, in a way of grace, pure grace—of mercy and pity towards lost
sinners “The kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man [hath]
appeared, not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according
to his abundant mercy showed in Christ Jesus,” Tit. iii. 4-6. So then, we
have this purpose of God’s love unfolded to us in the Scriptures, and this
is the substance of them—both Old and New Testament—or the end of them,
“Christ is the end of the law” (Rom. x. 4) to all sinners concluded under
sin and a curse. By it, our Lord Jesus, the good Ebedmelech, comes and
casts down a cord to us, and draws us up out of the pit of sin and misery.
He comes to this prison, and opens the door to let captives free. So then
we have God holden out to us as a redeemer, as a repairer of our
breaches,—“God in Christ reconciling the world,”—“O Israel, thou hast
destroyed thyself, but in me is thine help,” Hos. xiii. 9. He finds to
himself “a ransom to satisfy his justice,” Job xxxiii. 24. He finds a
propitiation to take away sin,—a sacrifice to pacify and appease his
wrath. He finds one of our brethren, but yet his own Son in whom he is
well pleased, and then holds out all this to sinners that they may be
satisfied in their own consciences, as he is in his own mind. God hath
satisfied himself in Christ, you have not that to do. He is not now to be
reconciled to us, for he was never really at odds, though he covered his
countenance with frowns and threats, since the Fall, and hath appeared in
fire and thunders and whirlwinds which are terrible, yet his heart had
always love in it to such persons; and therefore he is come near in
Christ, and about reconciling us to himself. Here is the business then, to
have our souls reconciled to him, to take away the enmity within us, and
as he is satisfied with his Son, so to satisfy ourselves with him, and be
as well-pleased in his redemption and purchase as the Father is, and then
you believe indeed in him. Now if this were accomplished, what have we
more to do but to love him and to live to him? When you have found in the
Scripture, and believed with the heart, what man once was, and what he now
is, what God once appeared, and what he now manifests himself in the
gospel, ye have no more to do but to search in the same Scriptures what ye
henceforth ought to be. Ye who find your estate recovered in Christ, ask,
“What manner of persons ought we to be?” And the Scripture shall also give
you that “form of sound words,” which may not only teach you to believe in
him, but to love him and obey his commands. The law that before condemned
you is now by Christ put in your hands to guide you and conduct you in the
way, and teacheth you how to live henceforth to his glory. “The grace of
God that bringeth salvation hath appeared unto all men, reaching us, that
denying ungodliness, and worldly lusts, we should live soberly,
righteously, and godly in this present world,” Tit. ii. 12. Here is the
sum of the rule of your practice and conversation, piety towards God,
equity towards men, and sobriety towards ourselves; self-denial, and world
denial, and lust-denial, to give up with the world and our own
lusts,—henceforth to have no more to do with them,—to resign them, not for
a time, not in part, but wholly and for ever in affection, and by parts in
practice and endeavour; and then to resign and give up ourselves to him,
to live to him, and to live in him.
Thus we have given you a sum of the doctrine of the Scriptures, of that
which is to be believed, and that which is to be done as our duty. Now we
shall speak a word of these two cardinal graces which are the compend of
all graces,—as the objects of them are the abridgment of the
Scriptures,—faith and love. These “sound words” can profit us nothing,
unless we hold them fast with faith and love.
Faith is like the fountain-gate. Streams come out of it that cleanse the
conscience from the guilt of sin, and purify the heart from the filth of
sin, because it is that which cometh to the “fountain opened up in the
house of David,” and draweth water out of these “wells of salvation.” If
you consider the fall and ruin of mankind, you will find infidelity and
unbelief the fountain of it as well as the seal of it. Unbelief of the law
of God,—of his promises and threatenings. This was first called in
question, and when once called in question, it is half denied. Hath God
said so, that you shall die?—It is not far off.—“Ye shall not surely die.”
Here then was the very beginning of man’s ruin. He did not retain in his
knowledge, and believe with his heart, the truth and faithfulness and
holiness of God, which unbelief was conjoined and intermingled with much
pride—“ye shall be as gods.” He began to live out of God, in himself, not
remembering that his life was a stream of that divine fountain, that being
cut off from it, would dry up. Now therefore, our Lord Jesus Christ—an
expert Saviour, and very learned and complete for this work,—he brings man
out of this pit of misery by that same way he fell into it. He fell down
by unbelief, and he brings him up out of it by faith. This is the cord
that is cast down to the poor soul in the dungeon, or rather his faith is
the dead grip of the cord of divine promises which is sent unto the
captive-prisoner, and by virtue thereof he is drawn out into the light of
salvation. Unbelief of the law of God did first destroy man, now the
belief of the gospel saves him. The not believing of the Lord’s
threatenings was the beginning of his ruin, and believing of his precious
promises is salvation. I say no more, as our destruction began at the
unbelief of the law, so our salvation must begin at the belief of it. The
law and divine justice went out of his sight and so he sinned now the law
entering into the conscience, discovers a man’s sins, and makes sin
abound, and that is the beginning of our remedy, to know our disease. But
as long as this is hid from a man’s eyes, he is shut up in unbelief, he is
sealed and confirmed in his miserable estate, and so kept from Jesus
Christ the remedy. Thus unbelief first and last destroys. Faith might have
preserved Adam and faith again may restore thee who hast fallen in Adam.
There is a great mistake of faith among us, some taking it for a strong
and blind confidence that admits of no questions or doubts in the soul,
and so vainly persuading themselves that they have it, and some again
conceiving it to be such an assurance of salvation as instantly comforts
the soul and looseth all objections, and so foolishly vexing their own
souls, and disquieting themselves in vain, for the want of that which, if
they understood what it is, they would find they have. I say, many souls
conceive that to be the best faith that never doubted, and hath always
lodged in them and kept them in peace since they were born. But, seeing
all men were once “aliens from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to
the covenant of promise, and without God in the world,” and so without
Christ also, it is certain that those souls who have always blessed
themselves in their own hearts, and cried “Peace, peace,” and were never
afraid of the wrath to come, have embraced an imagination and dream of
their own heart for true faith. It is not big and stout words that will
prove it. Men may defy the devil and all his works, and speak very
confidently, and yet, God knows, they are captives by him at his pleasure,
and not far from that misery which they think they have escaped. Satan
works in them with such a crafty conveyance that they cannot perceive it.
And how should they perceive it? For we are “by nature dead in sins,” and
so cannot feel or know that we are such. It is a token of life to feel
pain, a certain token, for dead things are senseless. You know how
jugglers may deceive your very senses, and make them believe they see that
which is not, and feel that which they feel not. Oh! how much more easy is
it for Satan—such an ingenious and experimented spirit—assisted with the
help of our deceitful hearts, to cast such a mist over the eyes of hearts,
and make them believe any thing! How easily may he hide our misery from
us, and make us believe it is well with us! And thus multitudes of souls
perish in the very opinion of salvation. That very thing which they call
faith,—that strong ungrounded persuasion,—is no other thing than the
unbelief of the heart, unbelief, I mean, of the holy law, of divine
justice, and the wrath to come, for if these once entered into the soul’s
consideration, they would certainly cast down that stronghold of vain
confidence that Satan keeps all the house in peace by. Now this secure and
presumptuous despising of all threatenings and all convictions, is
varnished over to the poor soul with the colour and appearance of faith in
the gospel. They think, to believe in Christ is nothing else but never to
be afraid of hell, whereas it is nothing else but a soul fleeing into
Christ for fear of hell, and fleeing from the wrath to come to the city of
refuge.
Now again, there are some other souls quite contrary minded, that run upon
another extremity. They once question whether they have faith, and always
question it. You shall find them always out of one doubt into another, and
still returning upon these debates, Whether am I in Christ, or not? And
often peremptorily concluding that they are not in him, and that they
believe not in him. I must confess, that a soul must once question the
matter, or they shall never be certain. Nay, a soul must once conclude
that it is void of God, and without Christ; but having discovered that, I
see no more use and fruit of your frequent debates and janglings about
interest. I would say then unto such souls, that if you now question it,
it is indeed the very time to put it out of question. And how? Not by
framing or seeking answers to your objections,—not by searching into
thyself to find some thing to prove it,—not by mere disputing about it,
for when shall these have an end? But simply and plainly by setting about
that which is questioned. Are you in doubt if you be believers? How shall
it be resolved then but by believing indeed? It is now the very time that
thou art called to make application of thy soul to Christ, if thou
thinkest thou cannot make application of Christ to thy soul. If thou
cannot know if he be thine, then how shalt thou know it but by choosing
him for thine and embracing him in thy soul? Now I say, if that time which
is spent about such unprofitable debates, were spent in solid and serious
endeavours about the thing in debate, it would quickly be out of debate.
If you were more in the obedience to those commands, than in the dispute
whether you have obeyed or not, you would sooner come to satisfaction in
it. This I say the rather, because the weightier and principal parts of
the gospel are those direct acts of faith and love to Jesus Christ, both
these are the outgoings of the soul to him. Now again examination of our
faith and assurance are but secondary and consequent reflections upon
ourselves, and are the soul returning in again to itself, to find what is
within. Therefore, I say, a Christian is principally called to the first,
and always called. It is the chief duty of man, which, for no evidence, no
doubting, no questioning, should be left undone. If ye be in any
hesitation whether you are believers or not, I am sure the chiefest thing,
and most concerning, is, rather to believe than to know it. It is a
Christian’s being to believe, it is indeed his comfort and well being to
know it, but if you do not know it, then by all means so much the more set
about it presently. Let the soul consider Christ and the precious
promises, and lay its weight upon him; this you ought to do, and not to
leave the other undone.
Secondly, I say to such souls, that it is the mistake of the very nature
of faith that leads them to such perplexities, and causeth such
inevidence. It is not so much the inevidence of marks and fruits that
makes them doubt, as the misapprehension of the thing itself, for as long
as they mistake it in its own nature, no sign, no mark, can satisfy in it.
You take faith to be a persuasion of God’s love that calms and quiets the
mind. Now, such a persuasion needs no signs to know it by, it is manifest
by its own presence, as light by its own brightness. It were a foolish
question to ask any, how they knew that they were persuaded of another’s
affection? The very persuasion maketh itself more certain to the soul than
any token. So then, while you question whether you have faith or not, and
in the mean time take faith to be nothing else but such a persuasion, it
is in vain to bring any marks or signs to convince you that you have
faith, for if such a persuasion and assurance were in you, it would be
more powerful to assure your hearts of itself than any thing else, and
while you are doubting of it, it is more manifest that you have it not,
than any signs or marks can be able to make it appear that you have it. If
any would labour to convince a blind man that he saw the light, and gave
him signs and tokens of the lights shining, the blind man could not
believe him, for it is more certain to himself that he sees not, that any
evidence can make the contrary probable. You are still wishing and seeking
such a faith as puts all out of question. Now, when ministers bring any
marks to prove you have true faith, it cannot satisfy or settle you,
because your very questioning proves that ye have not that which ye
question. If you had such a persuasion, you would not question it. So
then, as long as you are in that mistake concerning the true nature of
faith, all the signs of the word cannot settle you. But I say, if once you
understood the true nature of faith, it would be more clear in itself unto
you, than readily marks and signs could make it especially in the time of
temptation. If you would know, then, what it is indeed, consider what the
word of God holds out concerning himself, or us, and the solid belief of
that in the heart hath something of the nature of saving faith in it. The
Lord gives a testimony concerning man, that he is “born in sin,” that he
is “dead in sin,” and all his “imaginations are only evil continually.”
Now, I say, to receive this truth into the soul, upon God’s testimony, is
a point of faith. The Lord in his word “concludes all under sin” and
wrath, so, then, for a soul to conclude itself also under sin and wrath is
a point of faith. Faith is the soul’s testimony to God’s truth, the word
is God’s testimony. Now then, if a soul receive this testimony within,
whether it be law or gospel, it is an act of faith. If a soul condemn
itself, and judge itself, that is a setting to our seal that God is true
who speaks in his law, and so it is a believing in God. I say more to
believe with the heart that we cannot believe, is a great point of sound
belief, because it is a sealing of that word of God,—“The heart is
desperately wicked,” and “of ourselves we can do nothing.” Now, I am
persuaded, if such souls knew this, they would put an end to their many
contentions and wranglings about this point, and would rather bless God
that hath opened their eyes to see themselves, than contend with him for
that they have no faith. It is light only that discovers darkness, and
faith only that discerns unbelief. It is life and health only that feel
pain and sickness, for if all were alike, nothing could be found,(136) as
in dead bodies. Now, I say to such souls as believe in God the Lawgiver,
believe also in Christ the Redeemer. And what is that? It is not to know
that I have an interest in him. No, that must come after, it is the
Spirit’s sealing after believing which puts itself out of question when it
comes. And so if you had it you needed not many signs to know it by, at
least you would not doubt of it, more than he that sees the light can
question it. But, I say, to believe in Christ is simply this:
I,—whatsoever I be,—ungodly, wretched, polluted, desperate, am willing to
have Jesus Christ for my Saviour, I have no other help, or hope, if it be
not in him. It is, I say, to lean the weight of thy soul on this
foundation stone laid in Zion, to embrace the promises of the gospel,
albeit general, as “worthy of all acceptation,” and wait upon the
performance of them. It is no other thing but to make Christ welcome, to
say, “ ‘Even so, Lord Jesus,’ I am content in my soul that thou be my
Saviour, to be found in thee, ‘not having my own righteousness.’ ” I am
well pleased to cast away my own as dung, and find myself no other than an
ungodly man. Now it is certain that many souls that are still questioning
whether they have faith, yet do find this in their souls, but because they
know not that it is faith which they find, they go about to seek that
which is not faith, and where it is not to be found, and so disquiet
themselves in vain, and hinder fruitfulness.
Now, the faith of a Christian is no fancy, it is not a light vain
imagination of the brain, but it dwells in the heart,—“with the heart man
believes,” and it dwells with love. Faith and love, we need not be curious
to distinguish them. It is certain that love is in it, and from it. It is
in the very bosom of it, because faith is a soul embracing of Christ, it
is a choosing of him for its portion and then upon the review of this
goodly portion, and from consideration of what he is, and hath done for
us, the soul loves him still more, and is impatient of so much distance
from him. We find them conjoined in Scripture, but they are one in the
heart. O that we studied to have these jointly engraven on the heart! As
they are joined in the word, so our heart should be a “living epistle.”
Faith and love are two words but one thing under different notions. They
are the outgoings of the soul to Christ for life,—the breathings of the
soul after him, for more of him, when it hath once tasted how good he is.
Faith is not a speculation, or a wandering thought of truth, it is the
truth, not captivated into the mind, but dwelling in the heart, and
getting possession of the whole man. You know a man and his will are one,
not so a man and his mind, for he may conceive the truth of many things he
loves not, but whatever a man loves, that and he in a manner become one
with another. Love is unitive, it is the most excellent union of distant
things. The will commands the whole man, and hath the office of applying
of all the faculties to their proper works _Illa imperat, aliæ
exsequuntur_. Therefore when once divine truth gets entry into the heart
of a man, and becomes one with his will and affection, it will quickly
command the whole man to practise and execute, and then he that received
“the truth in love” is found a walker in the truth. Many persons captivate
truth in their understandings, as the Gentiles did, they hold or detain it
in unrighteousness, but because it hath no liberty to descend into the
heart, and possess that garrison, it cannot command the man. But oh! it is
better to be truth’s captive than to captivate truth, saith the apostle,
“Ye have obeyed from the heart that form of doctrine which was delivered
you,” Rom. vi. 17. O a blessed captivity! to be delivered over to
truth,—that is indeed freedom, for truth makes free, John viii. 32. And it
makes free where it is in freedom. Give it freedom to command thee, and it
shall indeed deliver thee from all strange lords; and thou shalt obey it
from the heart when it is indeed in the heart. When the truths of
God,—whether promises, or threatenings or commands,—are impressed into the
heart, you shall find the expressions of them in the conversion. Faith is
not an empty assent to the truth, but a receiving of it “in love,” and
when the truth is received in love, then it begins to work by love. “Faith
worketh by love,” saith Paul, Gal. v. 6. That now is the proper nature of
its operation which expresses its own nature. Obedience proceeding from
love to God flows from faith in God, and that shows the true and living
nature of that faith. If the soul within receive the seal and impression
of the truth of God, it will render the image of that same truth in all
its actions.
Love is put for all obedience. It is made the very sum and compend of the
law, the fulfilling of it; for the truth is the most effectual and
constraining principle of obedience, and withal the most sweet and
pleasant. The love of Christ constrains us to live to him, and not
henceforth to ourselves, 2 Cor. v. 14, 15. As I said, a man and his will
is one; if you engage it, you bind all, if you gain it, it will bring all
with it. As it is the most ready way to gain any party, to engage their
head whom they follow and upon whom they depend, let a man’s love be once
gained to Christ, and the whole train of the soul’s faculties of the
outward senses and operations, will follow upon it. It was an excellent
and pertinent question that Christ asked Peter, when he was going away,
(if Peter had considered Christ’s purpose in it, he would not have been so
hasty and displeased) “Peter, ‘lovest thou me?’ then ‘feed my sheep.’ ” If
a man love Christ, he will certainly study to please him, and though he
should do never so much in obedience, it is no pleasure except it be done
out of love. O this, and more of this in the heart, would make ministers
feed well, and teach well, and would make people obey well! “If ye love
me, keep my commandments.” Love devotes and consecrates all that is in a
man to the pleasure of him whom he loves, therefore it fashions and
conforms one—even against nature—to another’s humour and affection. It
constrains not to live to ourselves, but to him,—its joy and delight is in
him, and therefore all is given up and resigned to him. Now as it is
certain, that if you love him you will do much, so it is certain that
little is accepted for much that proceeds from love, and therefore, our
poor maimed and halting obedience is called “the fulfilling of the law.”
He is well pleased with it, because love is well pleased with it. Love
thinks nothing too much—all too little, and therefore his love thinks any
thing from us much, since he would give more. He accepts that which is
given, the lover’s mite cast into the treasury, is more than ten times so
much outward obedience from another man. He meets love with love. If the
soul’s desire be towards the love of his name, if love offer, though a
farthing, his love receiving it counts it a crown. Love offering a present
of duty, finds many imperfections in it, and covers any good that is in
it, seems not to regard it, and then beholds it as a recompense. His love,
receiving the present from us, covers a multitude of infirmities that are
in it. And thus, what in the desire and endeavour of love on our part, and
what in the acceptation of what is done on his part, “love is the
fulfilling of the law.” It is an usual proverb. All things are as they are
taken; “Love is the fulfilling of the law,” because our loving Father
takes it so, he takes as much delight in the poor children’s willingness,
as in the more aged’s strength, the offer and endeavour of the one
pleaseth him, as well as the performance of the other.
The love of God is the fulfilling of the law, for it is a living law, it
is the law written on the heart, it is the law of a spirit of life within.
_Quis legem det amantibus? Major lex amor sibi ipsi est._ You almost need
not prescribe any rules, or set over the head of love the authority and
pain of a command, for it is a greater law to itself. It hath within its
own bosom as deep an engagement and obligation to any thing that may
please God as you can put upon it, for it is in itself the very
engagement and bond of the soul to him. This is it, indeed, which will do
him service, and that is the service which he likes. It is that only
serves him constantly and pleasantly and constantly; it cannot serve him
which doth it not pleasantly, for it is delight only that makes it
constant. Violent motions may be swift, but not durable; they last not
long. Fear and terror is a kind of external impulse that may drive a soul
swiftly to some duty, but because that is not one with a soul, it cannot
endure long, it is not good company to the soul. But love, making a duty
pleasant, becomes one with the soul. It incorporates with it and becomes
like its nature to it, that though it should not move so swiftly, yet
moves more constantly. And what is love but the very motion of the soul to
God? And so till it have attained that, to be in him, it can find no place
of rest. Now this is only the service that he is pleased with, which comes
from love, because he sees his own image in it; for love in us is nothing
else but the impression and stamp that God’s love to us makes on the
heart. It is that very reflection of that sweet warm beam. So then when
his love reflects back unto himself carrying our heart and duty with it,
he knoweth his own superscription, he loves his own image in such a duty.
“If a man love me, he will keep my words, and my Father will love him, and
we will come unto him, and make our abode with him,” John xiv. 23. Here
now is an evidence that he likes it, for he must needs like that place he
chooses to dwell in. He who hath such a glorious mansion and palace above
must needs love that soul dearly, that he will prefer it to his high and
holy place.
Now I know it will be the secret question and complaint of some souls, how
shall I get love to God? I cannot love him, my heart is so desperately
wicked, I cannot say as Peter, “Lord thou knowest that I love thee.” I
shall not insist upon the discovery of your love unto him by marks and
signs; only I say, if thou indeed from thy heart desirest to love him, and
art grieved that there is not this love in thy soul to him which becomes
so love-worthy a Saviour, then thou indeed lovest him, for he that loveth
the love of God, loveth God himself. And wherefore art thou sad for the
want of that love, but because thou lovest him in some measure, and withal
findest him beyond all that thou canst think and love? But I say, that
which most concerns thee is to love still more, and that thou wouldest be
still more earnest to love him than to know that thou lovest him.
Now I know no more effectual way to increase love to Jesus Christ, than to
believe his love. Christ Jesus is “the author and finisher both of faith
and love;” and “we love him because he first loved us.” Therefore the
right discovery of Jesus Christ, what he is, and what he hath done for
sinners, is that which will of all things most prevail to engage the soul
unto him. But as long as ye suspend your faith upon the being or increase
of your love and obedience—as the manner of too many is—you take even such
a course as he that will not plant the tree till he see the fruits of it,
which is contrary to common sense and reason.
Since this then, is the sum of true religion, to believe in Christ and to
love him, and so live to him,—we shall wind up all that is spoken into
that exhortation of the apostle’s: “Hold fast the form of sound words
which thou hast heard.” You have this doctrine of faith and love delivered
unto you which may be able to save your souls. Then I beseech you, hold
them fast, salvation is in them. They are “sound words and wholesome
words,” words of life, spirit and life, (as Christ speaks,) as well as
words of truth. But how will you hold them fast that have them not at
all—that know them not though you hear them? You who are ignorant of the
gospel and hear nothing but a sound of words, instead of sound and
wholesome words, how can you hold them fast? Can a man hold the wind in
the hollow of his hand, or keep a sound within it? You know no more but a
sound and a wind that passeth by your ear, without observing either truth
or life in it. But then again, you who understand these sound words, and
have “a form of knowledge, and of the letter of the law,” what will that
avail you? You cannot hold it fast, except you have it within you, and it
is within you indeed when it is in your heart,—when the form of it is
engraven upon the very soul in love. Now, though you understand the sound
of these words, and the sound of truth in them, yet you receive not the
living image of them which is faith and love. Can you paint a sound? Can
you form it, or engrave it on any thing? Nay, but these sound words are
more substantial and solid. They must be engraven on the heart, else you
will never hold them. They may be easily plucked out of the mouth and hand
by temptation, unless they be enclosed and laid up in the secret of the
heart as Mary laid them. The truth must hold thee fast or thou canst not
hold it fast; it must captivate thee, and bind thee with the golden chains
of affection, which only is true freedom, or certainly thou wilt let it
go. Nay, you must not only have the truth received by love unto your heart
but, as the apostle speaks, you must also “hold fast the form of sound
words.” Scripture words are sound words; the Scripture method of teaching
is sound and wholesome. There may be unsound words used in expressing true
matter, and if a man shall give liberty to his own luxuriant imagination
to expatiate in notions and expressions, either to catch the ear of the
vulgar, or to appear some new discoverer of light and gospel mysteries, he
may as readily fall into error and darkness as into truth and light. Some
men do brisk up old truths, Scripture truths, into some new dress of
language and notions and then give them out for new discoveries, new
lights, but in so doing, they often hazard the losing of the truth itself.
We should beware and take heed of strange words that have the least
appearance of evil such as _Christed_ and _Godded_.(137) Let us think it
enough to be wise according to the Scriptures, and suspect all that as
vain empty, unsound, that tends not to the increase of faith in Christ and
love and obedience unto him, as ordinarily the dialect of those called
Antinomians is. Giving, and not granting, that they had no unsound mind,
yet I am sure they use unsound words to express sound matter. The clothes
should be shaped to the person. Truth is plain and simple; let words of
truth also be full of simplicity. I say no more but leave that upon you
that you hold fast even the very words of the Scriptures and be not
bewitched by the vain pretensions of spirit—all spirit,—pure and spiritual
service,—and such like, to the casting off of the word of truth, as
_letter_, as _flesh_. And such is the high attainment of some in these
days—an high attainment indeed, and a mighty progress in the way to
destruction—the very last discovery of that Antichrist and man of sin. Oh,
make much of the Scripture for you shall neither read not hear the like of
it in the world! Other books may have sound matter, but there is still
something, in manner or words, unsound. No man can speak to you truth in
such plainness and simplicity, in such soundness also. But here is both
sound matter, and sound words, the truth holden out truly; health and
salvation holden out in as wholesome a matter as is possible. Matter and
manner are both divine.
Lecture VII.
Of The Name Of God
Exod. iii. 13, 14.—“And Moses said unto God, Behold, when I come
unto the children of Israel and shall say unto them, The God of
your fathers hath sent me unto you and they shall say to me, What
is his name? what shall I say unto them? And God said unto Moses,
I AM THAT I AM and he said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children
of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you.”
We are now about this question, What God is. But who can answer it? Or, if
answered, who can understand it? It should astonish us in the very entry
to think that we are about to speak and to hear of his majesty whom “eye
hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of any
creature to consider what he is.” Think ye that blind men could have a
pertinent discourse of light and colours? Would they form any suitable
notion of that they had never seen, and which cannot be known but by
seeing? What an ignorant speech would a deaf man make of sound which a man
cannot so much as know what it is but by hearing of it? How then can we
speak of God who dwells in such inaccessible light that though we had our
eyes opened, yet they are far less proportioned to that resplendent
brightness, than a blind eye is to the sun’s light?
It used to be a question. If there be God? Or, how it may be known that
there is a God? It were almost blasphemy to move such a question, if
there were not so much Atheism in the hearts of men, which makes us either
to doubt, or not firmly to believe and seriously to consider it. But what
may convince souls of the Divine Majesty? Truly, I think, if it be not
evident by its own brightness, all the reason that can he brought is but
like a candle’s light to see the sun by! Yet, because of our weakness the
Lord shines upon us in the creatures, as in a glass and this is become the
best way to take up the glorious brightness of his majesty by reflection
in his word and works. God himself dwells in light inaccessible that no
man can approach unto, if any look straight to that Sun of Righteousness,
he shall be astonished and amazed and see no more than in the very
darkness. But the best way to behold the sun is to look at it in a pail of
water, and the surest way to know God by, is to take him up in a state of
humiliation and condescension, as the sun in the rainbow. In his word and
works, which are mirrors of the divine power and goodness and do reflect
upon the hearts and eyes of all men the beems of that uncreated light. If
this be not the “speech that” day uttereth unto day, and night unto night,
“One self Being gave me a being,” and if thou hear not that language that
is “gone out into all the earth,” and be not, as it were, noised and
possessed with all the sounds of every thing about thee, above thee,
beneath thee, yea, and within thee, all singing a melodious song to that
excellent name which is above all names and conspiring to give testimony
to the fountain of their being if this, I say, be not so sensible unto
thee as if a tongue and a voice were given to every creature to express
it, then, indeed, we need not reason the business with thee who hast lost
thy senses. Do but, I say, retire inwardly, and ask in sobriety and
sadness, what thy conscience thinks of it, and undoubtedly it shall
confess a divine majesty, or at least tremble at the apprehension of what
it either will not confess or slenderly believes. The very evidence of
truth shall extort an acknowledgment from it. If any man denied the divine
majesty, I would seek no other argument to persuade him than what was used
to convince an old philosopher who denied the fire: they put his hand in
it till he felt it. So I say, return within to thy own conscience and thou
shalt find the scorching heat of that Divine Majesty burning it up, whom
thou wouldst not confess. There is an inward feeling and sense of God that
is imprinted in every soul by nature that leaves no man without such a
testimony of God, that makes him “without excuse there is no man so
impious so atheistical, but whether he will or not, he shall feel at some
times that which he loves not to know or consider of, so that what rest
secure consciences have from the fear and terror of God, it is like the
sleep of a drunken man, who, even when he sleeps, does not rest quietly.”
Now, although this inward stamp of a Deity be engraven on the minds of
all, and every creature without have some marks of his glory stamped on
them, so that all things a man can behold above him, or about him, or
beneath him, the most mean and inconsiderable creatures, are pearls and
transparent stones that cast abroad the rays of that glorious brightness
which shines on them, as if a man were enclosed into a city built all of
precious stones, that in the sunshine all and every parcel of it, the
streets, the houses, the roofs, the windows all of it, reflected into his
eyes those sunbeams in such a manner as it all had been one mirror—though,
I say, this be so, yet such is the blockishness and stupidity of men that
they do not, for all this, consider of the glorious Creator, so that all
these lamps seem to be lighted in vain to show forth his glory, which,
though they do every way display their beams upon us, that we can turn our
eye nowhere but such a ray shall penetrate it, yet we either do not
consider it, or the consideration of it takes not such deep root as to
lead home to God. Therefore the Scripture calls all natural men atheists.
They have “said in their heart, there is no God,” Psal. xiv. 1. All men
almost confess a God with their mouth, and think they believe in him, but
alas! behold their actions and hearts, what testimony they give for a
man’s walking and conversation is like an eye witness, that one of them
deserves more credit than ten ear-witnesses of professions,—_Plus valet
oculatus testis unus, quam auriti decem_. Now, I may ask of you, what
would ye do, how would ye walk, if ye believed there were no God? Would ye
be more dissolute and profane, and more void of religion? Would not human
laws bind you as much in that case as they now do? For that is almost all
the restraint that is upon many,—the fear of temporal punishment, or shame
among men. Set your walking beside a heathen’s conversation, and save that
you say, ye believe in the true God, and he denies him, there is no
difference. Your transgressions speak louder than your professions, “that
there is no fear of God before your eyes”, Psal. xxxvi. 1. Your practice
belies your profession, you “profess that you know God, but in works you
deny him,” saith Paul, Tit. i. 16 _Ore quod dicitis, opere negatis_.
In the words read in your audience, you have a strange question, and a
strange answer: a question of Moses and an answer of God. The occasion of
it was the Lord’s giving to Moses a strange and uncouth message. He was
giving him commission to go and speak to a king to dismiss and let go six
hundred thousand of his subjects, and to speak to a numerous nation to
depart from their own dwellings and come out whither the lord should lead
them. Might not Moses then say within himself, “ ‘Who am I, to speak such
a thing to a King? Who am I, to lead out such a mighty people? Who will
believe that thou hast sent me? Will not all men call me a deceiver, an
enthusiastical fellow, that take upon me such a thing?’ Well then, saith
Moses to the Lord,—‘Lord, when I shall say, that the God of their fathers
sent me unto them, they will not believe me, they have now forgotten thy
majesty, and think that thou art but even like the vanities of the
nations, they cannot know their own portion from other nations vain idols
which they have given the same name unto, and call gods as well as thou
art called. Now therefore,’ says he, ‘when they ask me what thy proper
name is by which thou art distinguished from all idols, and all the works
of thine own hands, and of men’s hands, what shall I say unto them? Here
is the question.’ But why askest thou my name? saith the Lord to Jacob,”
Gen. xxxii. 29. Importing, that it is high presumption and bold curiosity
to search such wonder. Ask not my name, saith the angel to Manoah, for “it
is secret or wonderful.” Judges xiii. 18. It is a mystery, a hidden
mystery, not for want of light, but for too much light. It is a secret, it
is wonderful, out of the reach of all created capacity. Thou shalt call
his name “Wonderful,” Isa. ix. 6. What name can express that
incomprehensible Majesty? The mind is more comprehensive than words, but
the mind and soul is too narrow to conceive him. O then! how short a
garment must all words, the most significant and comprehensive and
superlative words be? Solomon’s soul and heart was enlarged as the sand of
the sea, but O it is not large enough for the Creator of it! “What is his
name, and what is his Son’s name, if thou canst tell?” Prov. xxx. 4. The
Lord himself expresses it to our capacity, because we are not capable of
what he can express, much less of what he is. If he should speak to us of
himself as he is, O, it should be “dark sayings,” hid from the
understandings of all living! We could reach no more of it, but that it is
a wonder, a secret. Here is the highest attainment of our knowledge, to
know there is some mystery in it, but not what that mystery is. Christ
hath a name above all names, how then can we know that name? It was well
said by some of old, _Deus est_ πολυωονμος and yet ανωνυμος _multorum
nominum, et tamen nullius nominis_, he hath all names, and yet he hath no
name. _quia est omnia, et tamen nihil omnium_, because he is all in all,
and yet none of all, _Deus est quod vides, et quod non vides_. You may
call him by all the works of his hands, for these are beams of his
uncreated light, and streams of his inexhaustible sea of goodness, so that
whatever perfection is in them, all that is eminently, yea, infinitely in
him. Therefore saith Christ, “There is one good, even God and he calls
himself ‘the light of life,’ ” and therefore you have so many names of God
in Scripture. There is no quality, no property, or virtue, that hath the
least shadow of goodness, but he is that essentially, really, eternally,
and principally, so that the creature deserves not such names but as they
participate of his fulness. He is the true light, the true life, the sun
is not that true light though it give light to the moon and to men, for it
borrows its light and shining from him. All creatures are and shine but by
reflection, therefore these names do agree to them but by a metaphor so to
speak, the propriety and truth of them is in him. As it is but a borrowed
kind of speech to call a picture or image a man—only because of the
representation and likeness to him it communicates in one name with
him—even so, in some manner, the creatures are but some shadows, pictures,
or resemblances, and equivocal shapes of God, and whatever name they have
of good, wise, strong, beautiful, true, or such like, it is borrowed
speech from God whose image they have. And yet poor vain man would be
wise,—thought wise really, intrinsically in himself, and properly,—calls
himself so; which is as great an abuse of language as if the picture
should call itself a true and living man. But then, as you may call him
all things, because he is eminently and gloriously all that is in all, the
fountain and end of all, yet we must again deny that he is any of these
things. _Unus omnia, et nihil omnium_. We can find no name to him; or what
can you call him, when you have said, “He is light?” You can form no other
notion of him but from the resemblance of this created light. But alas!
that he is not, he as infinitely transcends that, and is distant from it,
as if he had never made it according to his likeness. His name is above
all these names, but what it is himself knows, and knows only.
If ye ask what he is, we may glance at some notions and expressions to
hold him out. In relation to the creatures, we may call him Creator,
Redeemer, Light, Life, Omnipotent, Good, Merciful, Just, and such like;
but if you ask, what is his proper name in relation to himself, _ipse
novit_, himself knows that, we must be silent, and silence in such a
subject is the rarest eloquence. But let us hear what the Lord himself
speaks, in answer to this question. If any can tell, sure he himself knows
his own name best. “I am (saith he) what I am.” _Sum qui sum._ “Go tell
them that I AM hath sent thee.” A strange answer, but an answer only
pertinent for such a question. What should Moses make of this? What is he
the wiser of his asking? Indeed he might be the wiser, it might teach him
more by silence than all human eloquence could instruct him by speaking.
His question was curious, and behold an answer short and dark, to confound
vain and presumptuous mortality,—“I am what I am,” an answer that does not
satisfy curiosity, for it leaves room for the first question, and What art
thou? But abundant to silence faith and sobriety, that it shall ask no
more, but sit down and wonder.
There are three things I conceive imported in this name: God’s
unsearchableness, God’s unchangeableness, and God’s absoluteness. His
ineffability, his eternity, and his sovereignty and independent
subsistence, upon whom all other things depend. I say,
1. His unsearchableness. You know it is our manner of speech when we would
cover any thing from any, and not answer any thing distinctly to them, we
say, “It is what it is, I have said what I have said, I will not make you
wiser of it.” Here then is the fittest notion you can take up God into, to
find him unsearchable beyond all understanding, beyond all speaking. The
more ye speak or think, to find him always beyond what ye speak or think,
whatever you discover of him, to conceive that infiniteness is beyond
that, _ad finem cujus pertransire non potest_, the end of which you cannot
reach, that he is an unmeasurable depth, a boundless ocean of perfection,
that you can neither sound the bottom of it, nor find the breadth of it!
Can a child wade the sea, or take it up in the hollow of its hand?
Whenever any thing of God is seen, he is seen a wonder, “Wonderful is the
name he is known by”. All our knowledge reacheth no further than
admiration. “Who is like unto thee?” Exod. xv. 11, Psalm lxxxix. 6, 7, and
admiration speaks ignorance. The greatest attainment of knowledge reacheth
but to such a question as this, Who is like to thee? to know only that he
is not like any other thing that we know, but not to know what he is. And
the different degrees of knowledge are but in more admiration or less at
his unconceivableness, and in more or less affection expressed in such
pathetic interrogations, O who is like the Lord? How excellent is his
name? Here is the greatest degree of saints knowledge here away, to ask
with admiration and affection such a question that no answer can be given
to or none that we can conceive or understand so as to satisfy wondering
but such as still more increaseth it. There is no other subject but you
may exceed it in apprehensions and in expressions. O how often are men’s
songs and thoughts and discourses above the matter! But here is a subject
that there is no excess into; nay, there is no access unto it, let be
excess in it. Imagination that can transcend the created heavens and
earth, and fancy to itself millions of new worlds, every one exceeding
another, and all of them exceeding this in perfection, yet it can do
nothing here. That which at one instant can pass from the one end of
heaven to the other, walk about the circumference of the heavens, and
travel over the breadth of the sea, yet it can do nothing here. “Canst
thou by searching find out God?” Job xi. 7. Imagination cannot travel in
these bounds, for his centre is everywhere, and his circumference nowhere,
as an old philosopher speaks of God _Deus est, cujus centrum est ubique,
circumferentia nusquam._ How shall it then find him out? There is nothing
sure here, but to lose ourselves in a mystery, and to follow his majesty
till we be swallowed up with an—_O altitudo!_ O the depth and height and
length and breadth of God! O the depth of his wisdom! O the height of his
power! O the breadth of his love! And O the length of his eternity! It is
not reason and disputation, saith Bernard, will comprehend these, but
holiness, and that by stretching out the arms of fear and love, reverence
and affection. What more dreadful than power that cannot be resisted, and
wisdom that none can be hid from? and what more lovely than the love
wherewith he hath so loved us, and his unchangeableness which admits of no
suspicion? O fear him who hath a hand that doth all, and an eye that
beholds all things, and love him who hath so loved us, and cannot change!
God hath been the subject of the discourses and debates of men in all
ages; but oh! _Quam longe est in rebus qui est tam communis in vocibus?_
How little a portion have men understood of him? How hath he been hid from
the eyes of all living? Every age must give this testimony of him,—we have
heard of his fame, but he is hid from the eyes of all living. I think,
that philosopher that took it to his advisement, said more in silence than
all men have done in speaking. Simonides being asked by Hiero, a king,
what God was, asked a day to deliberate in and think upon it. When the
king sought an account of his meditation about it, he desired yet two days
more; and so as oft as the king asked him, he still doubled the number of
the days in which he might advise upon it. The king wondering at this,
asked what he meant by those delays; saith he, _Quanto magis considero,
tanto magis obscurior mihi videtur_,—“the more I think on him, he is the
more dark and unknown to me.” This was more real knowledge than in the
many subtile disputations of those men who, by their poor shell of finite
capacity and reason, presume to empty the ocean of God’s infiniteness, by
finding out answers to all the objections of carnal reason against all
those mysteries and riddles of the Deity. I profess, I know nothing can
satisfy reason in this business, but to lead it captive to the obedience
of faith, and to silence it with the faith of a mystery which we know not.
Paul’s answer is one for all, and better than all the syllogisms of such
men, “Who art thou, O man! who disputest? Dispute thou: I will believe.”
_Ut intelligatur, tacendum est._ Silence only can get some account of God,
quiet and humble ignorance in the admiration of such a majesty is the
profoundest knowledge. _Non est mirum si ignoretur, majoris esset
admirationis si sciatur._ It is no wonder that God is not known, all the
wonder were to know and comprehend such a wonder, such a mystery. It is a
wonder indeed, that he is not more known, but when I say so, I mean that
he is not more wondered at because he is passing knowledge. If our eyes of
flesh cannot see any thing almost when they look straight and steadfastly
upon the sun, O what can the eye of the soul behold, when it is fixed upon
the consideration of that shining and glorious majesty! Will not that very
light be as darkness to it, that it shall be as it were darkness and
dazzled with a thick mist of light in _superlucente caligine_,—confounded
with that resplendent darkness? It is said that the Lord “covers himself
with light as with a garment,” Psal. civ. 2, and yet “clouds and darkness
are round about him,” Psal. xcvii. 2, and he makes darkness his [covering]
secret place, Psal. xviii. 11. His inaccessible light is this glorious
darkness, that strikes the eyes of men blind; as in the darkness, the
sun’s light is the night owl’s night and darkness. When a soul can find no
better way to know him by, than by these names and notions by which we
deny our own knowledge, when it hath conceived all of him it can, then, as
being overcome with that dazzling brightness of his glory, to think him
inconceivable and to express him in such terms as withal expresses our
ignorance. There is no name agrees more to God, than that which saith, we
cannot name him, we cannot know him, such as invisible, incomprehensible,
infinite, &c. This, Socrates, an heathen, professed to be all his
knowledge, that he knew he did know nothing, and therefore he preached an
unknown God to the Athenians, to whom, after, they erected an altar with
that inscription, “To the unknown God.” I confess, indeed, the most part
of our discourses, of our performances, have such a writing on them, “to
the unknown God!” because we think we know him, and so we know nothing.
But oh! that Christians had so much knowledge of God, so much true wisdom,
as solidly, and willingly to confess in our souls our own ignorance of
him, and then I would desire no other knowledge, and growing in the grace
of God, but to grow more and more in the believing ignorance of such a
mystery, in the knowledge of an unknown, unconceivable and unsearchable
God; that in all the degrees of knowledge we might still conceive we had
found less, and that there is more to be found than before we apprehended.
This is the most perfect knowledge of God, that doth not drive away
darkness, but increases it in the soul’s apprehension. Any increase in it
doth not declare what God is, or satisfy one’s admiration in it, but
rather shows him to be more invisible and unsearchable. So that the
darkness of a soul’s ignorance is more manifested by this light, and not
more covered; and one’s own knowledge is rather darkened, and disappears
in the glorious appearance of this light. For in all new discoveries,
there is no other thing appears but this, that that which the soul is
seeking is supereminently unknown, and still further from knowledge than
ever it conceived it to be. Therefore, whatever you conceive or see of
God, if you think ye know what ye conceive and see, it is not God ye see,
but something of God’s less than God; for it is said, “eye hath not seen,
nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive, what
he hath laid up far them that love him.” Now certainly, that is himself he
hath laid up for them; therefore, whatever thou conceivest of him, and
thinkest now thou knowest of him, that is not he; for it hath not entered
into man’s heart to conceive him. Therefore, this must be thy soul’s
exercise and progress in it, to remove all things, all conceptions from
him, as not beseeming his majesty, and to go still forward in such a dark
negative discovery, till thou know not where to seek him, nor find him.
_Si quis Deum videat et intelligat quod vidit, Deum non vidit_, if any see
God, and understand what they see, God they do not see; for, “God hath no
man seen,” 1 John iv. 12; “and no man knows the Father but the Son, and
none knows the Son but the Father.” It is his own property to know himself
as it is to be himself. Silent and seeing ignorance is our safest and
highest knowledge.
Lecture VIII.
The Eternity And Unchangeableness Of God.
Exod. iii. 14.—“I AM THAT I AM.”—Psal. xc. 2.—“Before the
mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth
and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting thou art
God.”—Job xi. 7-9.—“Canst thou by searching find out God? canst
thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It is as high as
heaven; what canst thou do? deeper than hell; what canst thou
know? The measure thereof is longer than the earth, and broader
than the sea.”
This is the chief point of saving knowledge, to know God; and this is the
first point or degree of the true knowledge of God, to discern how
ignorant we are of him, and to find him beyond all knowledge. The Lord
gives a definition of himself, but such an one as is no more clear than
himself to our capacities; a short one indeed, and you may think it says
not much—“I am.” What is it that may not say so, “I am that I am?” The
least and most inconsiderable creature hath its own being. Man’s wisdom
would have learned him to call himself by some high styles, as the manner
and custom of kings and princes is, and such as the flattery of men
attributes unto them. You would think the superlatives of wise, good,
strong, excellent, glorious, and such like, were more beseeming his
majesty; and yet there is more majesty in this simple style than in all
others; but a “natural man” cannot behold it, for it is “spiritually
discerned.” “Let the potsherd,” saith he, “strive with the potsherds of
the earth,” [Isa. xlv. 9,] but let them not strive with their Maker. So I
say, let creatures compare with creatures; let them take superlative
styles, in regard of others. Let some of them be called good, and some
better, in the comparison among themselves; but God must not enter in the
comparison. Paul thinks it an odious comparison, to compare present
crosses to eternal glory: “I think them not worthy to be compared,” saith
Paul, Rom. viii. 18. But how much more odious is it, to compare God with
creatures? Call him highest, call him most powerful, call him most
excellent, almighty, most glorious in respect of creatures, you do but
abase his majesty, to bring it down to any terms of comparison with them
which is beyond all the bounds of understanding. All these do but express
him to be in some degree eminently seated above the creatures, as some
creatures are above all others! so you do no more but make him the head of
all as some one creature is the head of one line or kind under it; but
what is that to his majesty? He speaks otherwise of himself, Isa. xl. 17.
“All nations before him are as nothing, and they are counted to him less
than nothing.” Then, certainly, you have not taken up the true notion of
God when you have conceived him the most eminent of all beings, as long
as any being appears as a being in his sight before whom all beings
conjoined are as nothing. While you conceive God to be the best, you still
attribute something to the creature; for all comparatives include the
positive in both extremes: so then, you take up only some different
degrees between them who differ so infinitely, so incomprehensibly. The
distance betwixt heaven and earth is but a poor similitude to express the
distance between God and creatures. What is the distance betwixt a being
and nothing? Can you measure it? Can you imagine it? Suppose you take the
most high, and the most low, and measure the distance betwixt them, you do
but consider the difference betwixt two beings, but you do not express how
far nothing is distant from any of them. Now, if any thing could be
imagined less than nothing, could you at all guess at the vast distance
between it and a being? so it is here. Thus saith the Lord, “all nations,”
their glory, perfection, and number, all of them, and all their
excellencies united,—do not amount to the value of an unit in regard of my
Majesty; all of them like ciphers, join never so many of them together,
they can never make up a number, they are nothing in this regard, and less
than nothing. So then, we ought thus to conceive of God, and thus to
attribute a being and life to him, as in his sight and in the
consideration of it all created beings might evanish out of our sight;
even as the glorious light of the sun, though it do not annihilate the
stars, and make them nothing, yet it annihilates their appearance to our
senses, and makes them disappear as if they were not. Although there be a
great difference and inequality of the stars in the night,—some lighter,
some darker, some of the first magnitude, and some of the second and
third, &c. some of greater glory, and some of less,—but in the day-time
all are alike, all are darkened by the sun’s glory, even so it is
here,—though we may compare one creature with another, and find different
degrees of perfection and excellency, while we are only comparing them
among themselves; but let once the glorious brightness of God shine upon
the soul, and in that light all these lights shall be obscured, all their
differences unobserved. An angel and a man, a man and a worm, differ much
in glory and perfection of being: but oh! in his presence there is no such
reckoning. Upon this account all things are alike, God infinitely distant
from all, and so not more or less. Infiniteness is not capable of such
terms of comparison. This is the reason why Christ says, “There is none
good but one, even God.” Why, because in respect of his goodness, nothing
deserves that name. Lesser light, in the view of the greater, is a
darkness, as less good in comparison of a greater appears evil; how much
more then shall created light and created goodness lose that name and
notion, in the presence of that “uncreated Light, and self-sufficient
Goodness.” And therefore it is, that the Lord calls himself after this
manner, “I am as if nothing else were. I will not say,” saith he, “that I
am the highest, the best and most glorious that is—that supposeth other
things to have some being, and some glory that is worthy the accounting
of—but I am, and there is none else; I am alone; I lift up my hand to
heaven, and swear I live for ever.” There is nothing else can say, I am, I
live, and there is nothing else; for there is nothing hath it of itself.
Can any boast of that which they have borrowed, and is not their own? As
if the bird that had stolen from other birds its fair feathers should come
forth and contend with them about beauty; would not they presently every
one pluck out their own, and leave her naked, to be an object of mockery
to all! Even so, since our breath and being is in our nostrils, and that
depends upon his Majesty’s breathing upon us, if he should but keep in his
breath, as it were, we should vanish into nothing; he looketh upon man and
he is not, Job vii. 8. That is a strange look, that looks man not only out
of countenance, but out of life and being. He looks him into his first
nothing; and then can he say, “I live, I am”? No, he must always say of
himself in respect of God, as Paul of himself in respect of Christ, “I
live, yet not I, but Christ in me.” I am, yet not I, but God in me. I
live, I am, yet not I, but in God, in whom I live and have my being. So
that there is no other thing, besides God, can say, “I am;” because all
things are but borrowed drops of this self-sufficient fountain, and
sparkles of this primitive light. Let any thing intervene between the
stream and the fountain, and it is cut off and dried up; let any thing be
interposed between the sun and the beam, and it evanishes. Therefore, this
fountain-being, this original light, this self-being, αυτο ον, as Plato
called him, deserves only the name of being; other things that we call
after that name are nearer nothing than God, and so, in regard of his
majesty, may more fitly be called nothing than something. You see then how
profound a mystery of God’s absolute self-sufficient perfection, is
infolded in these three letters, I AM, or in these four, _Jehovah_. If you
ask what is God? There is nothing occurs better than this, “I am,” or, he
that is. If I should say he is the almighty, the only wise, the most
perfect, the most glorious, it is all contained in that word, “I am that I
am,” _Nempe hoc est ei esse, hæc omnia esse_; for that is to be, indeed,
to be all those perfections simply, absolutely, and, as it were, solely.
If I say all that, and should reckon out all the scripture-epithets, I add
nothing; if I say no more, I diminish nothing.
As this holds out God’s absolute perfection, so we told you that it
imports his eternity and unchangeableness. You know Pilate’s speech, “What
I have written I have written;” wherein he meant that he would not change
it; it should stand so. So this properly belongs to God’s eternity,
“Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the
earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God,”
Psal. xc. 2. Now this is properly to be; and this only deserves the name
of being, which never was nothing, and never shall be nothing; which may
always say, “I am.” You know it is so with nothing else but God. The
heavens and earth, with the things therein, could not say, six thousand
years ago, “I am.” Adam could once have said, “I am,” but now he cannot
say it; for that self-being and fountain-being hath said to him, return to
dust. And so it is with all the generations past; where are they now? They
were, but they are not. And we then were not, and now are; for we are come
in their place, but within a little time, Who of us can say, “I am.” No,
“we flee away; and are like a dream, as when one awaketh!” We “are like a
tale that is told,” that makes a present noise, and it is past. Within few
years this generation will pass, and none will make mention of us; our
place will not know us, no more than we do now remember those who have
been before. Christ said of John, “he was a burning and shining light;”
“he was,” saith he, but now he is not. But Christ may always say, “I am
the light and life of men.” Man is; but look a little backward, and he was
not; you shall find his original. And step a little forward and he shall
not be, you shall find his end. But God is “Alpha and Omega, the beginning
and the end.” But oh! who can retire so far backward as to apprehend a
beginning; or go such a start forward as to conceive an end in such a
being as is the beginning and end of all things, but without all beginning
and end? Whose understanding would it not confound? There is no way here
but to flee to Paul’s sanctuary, “O the height and breadth, and length and
depth!” We cannot imagine a being, but we must first conceive it nothing,
and in some instant receiving its being; and, therefore, “Canst thou by
searching find out God?” Therefore what his being is hath not entered into
the heart of man to consider. If any man would live out the space but of
two generations he would be a world’s wonder; but if any had their days
prolonged as the patriarchs before the flood, they would be called ancient
indeed, but then the heavens and earth are far more ancient. We may go
backward the space of near six thousand years in our own minds, and yet be
as far from his beginning as we were. When we are come to the beginning of
all things, a man’s imagination may yet extend itself further, and suppose
to itself as many thousands of years before the beginning of time, as all
the angels and men of all nations and generations from the beginning, if
they had been employed in no other thing but this, could have summed up;
and then suppose a product to be made of all the several sums of years, it
would be vast and unspeakable; but yet your imagination could reach
further, and multiply that great sum into itself as often as there are
units in it. Now when you have done all this, you are never a whit nearer
the days of “the Ancient of days.” Suppose then this should be the only
exercise of men and angels throughout all eternity; all this marvellous
arithmetic would not amount unto the least shadow of the continuance of
him who is “from everlasting.” All that huge product of all the
multiplications of men and angels, hath no proportion unto that
never-beginning and never-ending duration. The greatest sum that is
imaginable hath a certain proportion to the least number, that it
containeth it so oft and no oftener; so that the least number being
multiplied will amount unto the greatest that you can conceive. But O!
where shall a soul find itself here? It is enclosed between infiniteness
before and infiniteness behind,—between two everlastings; which way soever
it turns, there is no outgoing; which way soever it looks, it must lose
itself in an infiniteness round about it. It can find no beginning and no
end, when it hath wearied itself in searching, which, if it find not, it
knows not what it is, and cannot tell what it is. Now what are we then? O
what are we, who so magnify ourselves! “We are but of yesterday, and know
nothing,” Job viii. 9. Suppose that we had endured the space of a thousand
years, yet saith Moses, Psal. xc. 4, “A thousand years are but as
yesterday in thy sight.” Time hath no succession to thee. Thou beholdest
at once what is not at once, but in several times; all that may thus
happen hath not the proportion of one day to thy days. We change in our
days, and are not that to-day we were yesterday; but “he is the same
yesterday, and to-day, and for ever,” Heb. xiii. 8. Every day we are
dying, some part of our life is taken away; we leave still one day more
behind us, and what is behind us is gone and cannot be recovered. Though
we vainly please ourselves in the number of our years, and the extent of
our life, and the vicissitudes of time, yet the truth is, we are but still
losing to much of our being and time as passeth. First, we lose our
childhood, then we lose our manhood; and then we leave our old age behind
us also; and there is no more before us. Even the very present day we
divide it with death. But when he moves all things, he remains immoveable.
Though days and years be in a continual flux and motion about him, and
they carry us down with their force, yet he abides, the same for ever.
Even the earth that is established so sure, and the heavens that are
supposed to be incorruptible, yet they “wax old as doth a garment;” but he
is the same, and “his years have no end,” Psal. cii. 26, 27. _Sine
principio principium; absque fine finis; cui præteritum non abit, haud
adit futurum; ante omnia post omnia totus unus ipse_,—He is the beginning
without any beginning; the end without an end: there is nothing bypast to
him, and nothing to come. _Sed uno mentis cernit in ictu, quæ sunt, quæ
erunt, quæ fuerantque._—he is one that is all, before all, after all, and
in all. He beholds out of the exaled and supereminent tower of eternity,
all the successions and changes of the creatures; and there is no
succession, no mutation in his knowledge, as in ours. “Known to him are
all his works from the beginning.” He can declare the end before the
beginning; for he knows the end of all things, before he gives them
beginning. Therefore he is never driven to any consultation upon any
emergence, or incident, as the wisest of men are, who could not foresee
all accidents and events; but “he is in one mind,” saith Job; and that one
mind and one purpose is one for all, one concerning all. He had it from
everlasting, and who can turn him? For he will accomplish what his soul
desires.
Now, “canst thou by searching find out God?” Canst thou, a poor mortal
creature, either ascend up into the height of heaven, or descend down into
the depths of hell? Canst thou travel abroad, and compass all the sea and
dry land, by its longitude and latitude? Would any mortal creature
undertake such a voyage, to compass the universe? Nay, not only so, but to
search into every corner of it, above and below, on the right hand and on
the left? No certainly, unless we suppose a man whose head reaches unto
the height of heaven, and whose feet is down in the depths of hell, and
whose arms, stretched out, can fathom the length of the earth, and breadth
of the sea; unless, I say, we suppose such a creature, then it is in vain
to imagine, that either the height of the one, or the depth of the
other,—the length of the one, and the breadth of the other, can be found
out and measured. Now, if mortal creatures cannot attain the measure of
that which is finite, O then, what can a creature do? What can a creature
know of him that is infinite, and the maker of all these things? You
cannot compass the sea and land, how then can a soul comprehend him, “who
hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and comprehended the
dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and
the hills in a balance?” Isa. xl. 12. Thou canst not measure the
circumference of the heaven, how then canst thou find out him, “who metes
out heaven with the span,” “and stretcheth them out as a curtain?” Isa.
xl. 12, 22. You cannot number the nations, or perceive the magnitude of
the earth, and the huge extent of the heavens, what then canst thou know
of him, “who sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants
thereof are as grasshoppers before him?” and he spreadeth out the heavens
“as a tent to dwell in!” Isa. xl. 22. He made all the pins and stakes of
this tabernacle, and he fastened them below but upon nothing, and
stretches this curtain about them and above them; and it was not so much
difficulty to him, as to you to draw the curtain about your bed; for “he
spake, and it was done, he commanded, and it stood fast.” Canst thou by
searching find him out? And yet thou must search him; not so much out of
curiosity to know what he is, for he dwelleth in “the light which no man
can approach unto,” which no man hath seen, and no man can see, 1 Tim. vi.
16; not so much to find him, as to be found of him, or to find what we
cannot know when we have found. _Hic est qui nunquam quæri frusta potes,
cum tamen inveniri non potest._ You may seek him, but though you never
find him, yet ye shall not seek him in vain, for ye shall find blessedness
in him. Though you find him, yet can you search him out unto perfection?
Then what you have found were not God. How is it possible for such narrow
hearts to frame an apprehension, or receive an impression of such an
immense greatness, and eternal goodness? Will not a soul lose its power of
thinking and speaking, because there is so much to be thought and spoken;
and it so transcends all that it can think or speak? Silence then must be
the best rhetoric; and the sweetest eloquence, when eloquence itself must
become dumb and silent. It is the abundance and excess of that
inaccessible light, that hath no proportion to our understandings, that
strikes us as blind as, in the darkness, the wont of light. All that we
can say of God is, that whatsoever we can think or conceive, he is not
that, because he hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive, and
that he is not like any of those things which we know, unto which if he be
not like, we cannot frame any similitude or likeness of him in our
knowledge. What then shall we do? Seek him and search him indeed: but, if
we cannot know him, to reverence and fear and adore what we know. So much
of him may be known as may teach us our duty and show unto us our
blessedness. Let then all our inquiries of him have a special relation to
this end, that, we may out of love and fear of such a glorious and good
God, worship and serve him, and compose ourselves according to his will
and wholly to his pleasure. Whatever thou knowest of God, or searchest of
him, it is but a vain speculation, and a work of curiosity, if it do not
lead to this end,—to frame and fashion thy soul to an union and communion
with him in love; if it do not discover thyself unto thyself, that in that
light of God’s glorious majesty thou mayest distinctly behold thy own
vileness and wretched misery, thy darkness and deadness and utter
impotency. The angels that Isaiah saw attending God in the temple, had
wings covering their faces, and wings covering their feet. Those excellent
spirits who must cover their feet from us, because we cannot behold their
glory, as Moses behoved to be veiled, yet they cannot behold his glory,
but must cover their face from the radiant and shining brightness of his
majesty. Yet they have other two wings to fly with. And being thus
composed in reverence and fear to God, they are ready to execute his
commands willingly and swiftly, Isa. vi. 1-3, &c. But what is the use
Isaiah makes of all this glorious sight? “Woe is me! I am a man of unclean
lips,” &c. Oh! all is unclean,—people, and pastor! He had known,
doubtless, something of it before, but now he sees it of new, as if he had
never seen it. The glory of God shining on him doth not puff him up in
arrogancy and conceit of the knowledge of such profound mysteries, but he
is more abased in himself by it. It shines into his heart and whole man,
and lets him see all unclean within and without. And so it was with Job,
Job xliii. 5, 6. “I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear;” but as
long as it was hearsay, I thought myself something,—I often reflected upon
myself and actions, with a kind of self-complacency and delight; but now,
saith he, since I have seen thee by the seeing of the eye, “I abhor myself
and repent in dust and ashes;” I cannot look upon myself with
patience,—without abhorrency and detestation. Self-love made me loathe
other men’s sins more than mine own, and self-love did cover mine own sins
from me; it presented me to myself in a feigned likeness; but now I see
myself in my true shape, and all coverings stripped off. Thy light hath
pierced into my soul, and behold, I cannot endure to look upon myself.
Here now is the true knowledge of God’s majesty, which discovers within
thee a mystery of iniquity: and here is the knowledge of God indeed, which
abases all things besides God, not only in opinion but in affection, that
attracts and unites thy soul to God, and draws it from thyself and all
created things. This is a right discovery of divine purity and glory, that
spots even the cleanness of angels, and stains the pride of all glory;
much more will it represent filthiness, as filthiness without a covering.
It is knowledge and science, “falsely so called,” that puffeth up; for
true knowledge emptieth a soul of itself, and humbleth a soul in itself,
that it may be full of God. He that thinks he knows any thing, knows
nothing as he ought to know.
This then is the first property or mark of the saving knowledge of God. It
removes all grounds of vain confidence that a soul cannot trust unto
itself. And then the very proper intent of it is, that a soul may trust in
God, and depend on him in all things. For this purpose the Lord hath
called himself by so many names in scripture, answerable to our several
necessities and difficulties, that he might make known to us how
all-sufficient he is, that so we may turn our eyes and hearts towards him.
This was the intent of this name, I AM, that Moses might have a support of
his faith; for if he had looked to outward appearance, was it not almost a
ridiculous thing, and like a vain fancy, for a poor inconsiderable man to
go to a king with such a message, that he would dismiss so many subjects?
And was it not an attempt of some madman to go about to lead so many
thousands from a wicked tyrannical king, into another nation? Well, saith
the Lord, “I am;” I, who give all things a being, will give a being to my
promise. I will make Pharaoh hearken, and the people obey. Well then, what
is it that this name of God will not answer? It is a creating name,—a name
that can bring all things out of nothing by a word. If he be such as he
is, then he can make of us what he pleases. If our souls had this name
constantly engraven on our hearts, O what power would divine promises and
threatenings have with us! “I, even I, am he that comforteth thee,” saith
he, Isaiah xli. 12. If we believed that it were he indeed, the Lord
Jehovah, how would we be comforted! How would we praise him by his name
JAH! How would we stoop unto him, and submit unto his blessed will! If we
believed this, would we not be as dependent on him as if we had no being
in ourselves? Would we not make him our habitation and dwelling-place; and
conclude our own stability, and the stability of his church from his
unvariable eternity? as the Psalmist, Psal. xcix. 1. Psal. cii. ult. How
can we think of such a Fountain-Being, but we must withal acknowledge
ourselves to be shadows of his goodness, and that we owe to him what we
are, and so consecrate and dedicate ourselves to his glory! How can we
consider such a Self-Being, Independent, and Creating Goodness, but we
must have some desire to cleave to him, and some confidence to trust in
him! Now, this is to know him.
When we think on his unchangeableness, let us consider our own vanity,
whose glory and perfection is like a summer flower, or like a vapour
ascending for a little time, whose best estate is altogether vanity. Our
purposes are soon broken off, and made of none effect, our resolutions
change. This is a character of mortality, we are not always alike. _Non
sibi constare, nec ubique et semper sibi parem eundemque esse._ To be now
one thing, and then another thing, is a properly of sinful and wretched
man. Therefore let us “cease from man whose breath is in his nostrils,”
and “trust not in princes” who shall die, far less in ourselves who are
less than the least of men, but let us put our trust in God, “who changeth
not,” and we shall not be consumed,—our waters shall not fail,—we shall
never be ashamed of any hope we have in him. There is nothing else you
trust in, but undoubtedly it shall prove your shame and confusion.
Whatever you hear or know of God, know that it is vain and empty, unless
it descend down into the heart to fashion it to his fear and love, and
extend unto the outward man to conform it to obedience, you are but “vain
in your imaginations, and your foolish hearts are darkened” while “when
you know God” you glorify him not as God. If that be not the fruit and end
of knowledge, that knowledge shall be worse to thee than ignorance, for it
both brings on judicial hardening here, and will be thy solemn accuser and
witness against thee hereafter, Rom. i. 21-24. The knowledge of Jesus
Christ truly so called, is neither barren nor unfruitful for out of its
root and sap spring humility, self-abasing confidence in God, patience in
tribulations, meekness in provocations, temperance and sobriety in lawful
things &c. 2 Pet. i. 5-8.
Lecture IX.
What God Is To Us.
Exod. xxxiv. 6, 7.—“The lord, the Lord God merciful and gracious,
long suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy
for thousands.”
There is nothing can separate between God and a people but iniquity, and
yet he is very loath to separate even for that. He makes many shows of
departing, that so we may hold him fast, and indeed he is not difficult to
be holden. He threatens often to remove his presence from a person or
nation, and he threatens, that he may not indeed remove, but that they may
entreat him to stay, and he is not hard to be entreated. Who is a God like
unto him, slow to anger, and of great mercy? He is long of being provoked,
and not long provoked, for it is like the anger of a parent’s love. Love
takes on anger as the last remedy, and if it prevail, it is as glad to put
it off as it was unwilling to take it on. You may see a lively picture of
this in God’s dealing with Moses and this people in the preceding chapter.
He had long endured this rebellious and obstinate people,—had often
threatened to cut them off,—and yet, as it were, loath to do it, and
repenting of it, he suffers himself to be entreated for them, but all in
vain to them,—they corrupted their way still more, and in the 32d chapter
fall into gross idolatry, the great trespass that he had given them so
solemn warning of often, whereupon great wrath is conceived. And the Lord
(chap. xxxiii. 2) threatens to depart from them,—Go your way, saith he to
Canaan, but I will not go with you, take your venture of any judgments,
and the people of the land’s cruelty. Here is a sad farewell to Israel,
and who would think he could be detained after all that? Who would think
that he could be entreated? And yet he is not entreated, he is not
requested, before he gives some ground of it, and before he first
condescends; go, saith he, and put off thy ornaments from thee, that I may
know what to do unto thee. Will he then accept a repenting people, and is
there yet hope of mercy? Should he that is going away show us the way to
keep him still? And he that flees from us, will he strengthen us to pursue
and follow after him? This is not after the manner of men, it is true,
whose compassions fail when their passion ariseth, but this is the manner
and method of grace, or of him who waits to be gracious. He flees so as he
would have a follower. Yea, while he seems to go away, he draws the soul
that he might ran after him. Hence is that word, Psal. lxiii. 8, “My soul
followeth hard after thee, thy light hand upholdeth me.” Well, the people
mourn, and put off their ornaments in sign of humiliation and abasement,
but all this doth not pacify and quench the flame that was kindled. Moses
takes the tabernacle out of the camp, the place of judgement where God
spake with the people, and the cloud, the sign of God’s presence, removes.
In a word, the sign of God’s loving and kind presence departs from them,
to signify that they were divorced from God, and, in a manner, the Lord by
Moses excommunicates all the people and rulers both, and draws away these
holy things from the contagion of a profane people. But yet all is not
gone. He goes far off, but not out of sight, that you may always follow
him, and if you follow, he will stand still. He is never without the reach
of crying, though we do not perceive him. Now, in this sad case you may
have a trial who is godly. Every one that seeks the Lord will separate
from the unholy congregation, and follow the tabernacle, and this affects
the whole people much, that they all worship in the tent door.
Now, in the meantime, God admits Moses to speak with him. Though he will
not speak to the people, yet he will speak with their mediator, a typical
mediator, to show us that God is well pleased in Christ, and so all
Christ’s intercessions and requests for us will get a hearing. When they
are come once in talking, the business is taken up, for He is not soon
angry, and never implacably angry,—“slow to anger, and keeps it not long.”
Moses falling familiar with God, not only obtains his request for the
people, but becomes more bold in a request for his own satisfaction and
confirmation. He could not endure to lead that people unless God went with
him, and having the promise of his going with them he cannot endure
distance with him, but aspires to the nearest communion that may be. Oh!
that it were so with us. His great request is, that the Lord will show him
his glory. Had he not seen much of this already and more than any man ever
saw, when he spake in the mount with God, &c.? Nay, but he would see more,
for there is always more to be seen, and there is in a godly soul always
more desire to see it. The more is seen, the more is loved and desired.
Tasting of it only begets a kindly appetite after it, and the more tasted,
still the fresher and more recent but yet it is above both desire and
fruition,—“Thou canst not see my face, &c.” All our knowledge of God,—all
our attainments of experience of him,—do but reach to some dark and
confused apprehension of what he is. The clearest and nearest sight of God
in this world is, as if a man were not known but by his back, which is a
great point of estrangement. It is said, in heaven we shall see him “face
to face,” and fully as he is, because then the soul is made capable of it.
Two things in us here put us in an incapacity of nearness with
God,—infirmity and iniquity. Infirmity in us cannot behold his glory. It
is of so weak eyes, that the brightness of the sun would strike it blind.
And iniquity in us, he cannot behold it, because he is of pure eyes, that
can look on no unclean thing. It is the only thing in the creation that
God’s holiness hath an antipathy at, and therefore he is still about the
destroying of the body of sin in us, about the purging from all filthiness
of flesh and spirit, and till the soul be thus purged of all sin, by the
operation of the Holy Ghost, it cannot be a temple for an immediate vision
of him, and an immediate exhibition of God to us. Sin is the will of
partition, and the thick cloud that eclipses his glory from us. It is the
opposite hemisphere of darkness, contrary to light, according to the
access or recess of God’s presence, it is more or less dark. The more sin
reigns in thee, the less of God is in thee, and the more sin be subdued,
the readier and nearer is God’s presence. But let us comfort ourselves
that one day we shall put off both infirmity and iniquity, mortality shall
put on immortality, and corruption be clothed with incorruption. We shall
leave the rags of mortal weakness in the grave, and our menstruous clothes
of sin behind us, and then shall the weak eyes of flesh be made like
eagles’ eyes, to behold the sun, and then shall the soul be clothed with
holiness, as with a garment, which God shall delight to look upon, because
he sees his own image in that glass.
We come to the Lord’s satisfying of Moses’ desire, and proclaiming his
name before him. It is himself only can tell you what he is. It is not
ministers preaching, or other discourse, can proclaim that name to you. We
may indeed speak over those words unto you, but it is the Lord that must
write that name upon your heart. He only can discover his glory to your
spirit. There is a spirit of life which cannot be enclosed in letters and
syllables, or transmitted through your ears into your hearts, but he
himself must create it inwardly, and stir up the inward sense and feeling
of that name, of those attributes. Faith indeed, “cometh by hearing,” and
our knowledge in this life is “through a glass darkly, through ordinances
and senses,” but there must be an inward teaching and speaking to your
souls to make that effectual, “the anointing teacheth you of all things,”
1 John ii. 27. Alas! it is the separation of that from the word that makes
it so unprofitable. If the Spirit of God were inwardly writing what the
word is teaching then should your souls be “living epistles, that ye might
read God’s name on them.” O! be much in imploring of and depending on him
that teacheth to profit, who only can declare unto your souls what he is!
These names express his essence or being, and his properties, what he is
in himself, and what he is to us. In himself he is Jehovah, or a Self
Being, αυτ ον as we heard in the 3d chapter, “I am that I am”, and EL, a
strong God, or Almighty God, which two hold out unto us the absolute
incomprehensible perfection of God, eminently and infinitely enclosing
within himself all the perfections of the creature; the unchangeable and
immutable being of God, who was, and is, and is to come, without
succession, without variation, or shadow of turning, and then the almighty
power of God, by which without difficulty by the inclination and beck of
his will and pleasure, he can make or unmake all,—create or annihilate—to
whom nothing is impossible. Which three, if they were pondered by us till
our souls received the stamp of them, they would certainly be powerful to
abstract and draw our hearts from the vain changeable, and empty shadow of
the creature, and gather our scattered affections that are parted among
them, because of their insufficiency, that all might unite in one and join
with this self sufficient and eternal God. I say, if a soul did indeed
believe and consider how all-sufficient he is, how insufficient all things
else are, would it not cleave to him and draw near to him? Psal. lxxiii.
ult. It is the very torment and vexation of the soul to be thus racked,
distracted, and divided about many things, and therefore many, because
there is none of them can supply all our wants. Our wants are infinite,
our desires insatiable and the good that is in any thing is limited and
bounded, it can serve, one but for one use, and another for another use
and when all are together they can but supply some wants but they leave
much of the soul empty. But often these outward things cross one another,
and cannot consist together and hence ariseth much strife and debate in a
soul. His need requireth both, and both will not agree. But O that you
could see this one universal good, one for all, and above all, your souls
would choose him certainly—your souls would trust in him! Ye would say,
“Asshur shall not save us, we will not ride on horses.” Creatures shall
not satisfy us, we will seek our happiness in thee and nowhere else; since
we have tasted this new wine, away with the old, the new is better. I
beseech you, make God your friend, for he is a great one, whether he be a
friend or an enemy, he hath two properties that make him either most
comfortable, or most terrible, according as he is at peace or war with
souls,—eternity, and omnipotency. You were all once enemies to him. O
consider what a party you have, an almighty party, and an unchangeable
party! and if you will make peace with him and that in Christ, then know
he is the best friend in the world, because he is unchangeable and
almighty. If he be thy friend, he will do all for thee he can do and thou
hast need of. Many friends willing to do, have not ability, but he hath
power to do what he wills and pleases. Many friends are changeable,—their
affections dry up and of themselves die, and therefore even princes’
friendship is but a vain confidence, for they shall die, and then their
thoughts of favour perish with them, but he abides the same for all
generations. There is no end of his duration and no end of his affection;
he can still say, “I am that I am. What I was, I am, and I will be what I
am.” Men cannot say so, they are like the brooks that the companies of
Teman looked after, and thought to have found them in summer as they left
them in winter, but behold they were dried up, and the companies ashamed.
God cannot make thee ashamed of thy hope, because he is faithful and able.
Ability and fidelity is a sure anchor to hold by in all storms and
tempests.
Such is God in himself. Now, there are two manner of ways he vents himself
towards the creatures,—in a comfortable way, or in a terrible way. This
glorious perfection and almighty power hath an issue upon sinners, and it
runs in a twofold channel, of mercy or justice, of mercy towards miserable
sinners that find themselves lost, and flee unto him and take hold of his
strength, and justice towards all those that flatter themselves in their
own eyes, and continue in their sins and put the evil day far off. There
is no mercy for such as fear not justice, and there is no justice for such
as flee from it unto mercy. The Lord exhibits himself in a twofold
appearance, according to the condition of sinners. He sits on a throne and
tribunal of grace and mercy, to make access to the vilest sinner who is
afraid of his wrath and would fain be at peace with him, and he sits on a
throne of justice and wrath, to seclude and debar presumptuous sinners
from holiness. There were two mountains under the law,—one of cursings,
and another of blessings. These are the mountains God sets his throne
upon, and from these he speaks and sentences mankind. From the mountain of
cursings, he hath pronounced a curse and condemnatory sentence upon all
flesh, “for all have sinned.” Therefore he concludes all under sin that
all flesh might stop their mouth, and the whole world become guilty before
God. Now, the Lord having thus condemned all mankind because of
disobedience, he sits again upon the mountain of blessings, and pronounces
a sentence of absolution, of as many as have taken with the sentence of
condemnation, and appealed to his grace and mercy, and those which do not
so, the sentence of condemnation stands above their heads unrepealed. He
erects his tribunal of justice in the world for this end, that all flesh
might once be convicted before him, and therefore he cites, as it were,
and summons all men to present themselves and appear before his tribunal,
to be judged. He lays out an accusation in the word against them. He takes
their consciences witness of the truth of all that is charged on them, and
then pronounces that sentence in their conscience, “Cursed is he that
abideth not in all things,” which the conscience subsumes, and concludes
itself accursed, and subscribes to the equity of the sentence. And thus
man is guilty before God, and his mouth stopped. He hath no excuses, no
pretences, he can see no way to escape from justice, and God is justified,
by this means, in his speaking and judging. Psal. li. 4. The soul ratifies
and confirms the truth and justice of all his threatenings and judgements,
Rom. iii. 4. Now, for such souls as join with God in judging and
condemning themselves, the Lord hath erected a throne of grace and
tribunal of mercy in the word, whereupon he hath set his Son Jesus Christ,
Psal. ii. 6, lxxxix. 14, xlv. 6, Heb. i. 8. And O! this throne is a
comfortable throne. Mercy and truth go before the face of the king to
welcome and entertain miserable sinners, and to make access to them. And
from this throne Jesus Christ holds out the sceptre of the gospel, to
invite sinners, self-condemned sinners, to come to him alone, who hath
gotten all final judgment committed to him, that he may give eternal life
“to whom he will,” John v. 21, 22. O! that is a sweet and ample commission
given to our friend and brother, Jesus Christ,—power to repeal sentences
passed against us,—power and authority to absolve them whom justice hath
condemned, and to bless whom the law hath cursed, and to open their mouth
to praise whose mouth sin and guiltiness hath stopped,—power to give the
answer of a good conscience to thy evil self-tormenting conscience! In a
word, he hath power to give life, to make alive and heal those who are
killed or wounded by the commandment. Now, I say, seeing God hath of
purpose established this throne of mercy in the word, thou mayest well,
after receiving and acknowledging of the justice of the curse of the law,
appeal to divine mercy and grace sitting on another throne of the gospel.
Thou mayest—if thy conscience urge thee to despair, and to conclude there
is no hope—thou mayest, I say, appeal from thy conscience, from Satan,
from justice, unto Jesus Christ, who is holding out the sceptre to thee.
The minister calls thee, rise and come, stand no longer before that bar,
for it is a subordinate judicatory, there is a way to redress thee by a
higher court of grace. Thou mayest say to justice, to Satan, to thy own
conscience,—“It is true, I confess, that I deserve that sentence, I am
guilty, and can say nothing against it, while I stand alone. But though I
cannot satisfy, and have not; yet there is one, Jesus Christ, who gave his
life a ransom for many, and whom God hath given as a propitiation for
sins. He hath satisfied and paid the debt in my name; go and apprehend the
cautioner, since he hath undertaken it, nay, he hath done it, and is
absolved. Thou hadst him in thy hands O Justice! Thou hadst him prisoner
under the power of death. Since thou hast let him go, then he is acquitted
from all the charge of my sins; and therefore, since I know that he is now
a king, and hath a throne to judge the world and plead the cause of the
poor sheep, I will appeal to him, refer the cause to his decision, I will
make my supplication to him, and certainly he will hear, and interpose
himself between wrath and me. He will rescind this sentence of
condemnation, since he himself was condemned for us and is justified,—‘It
is Christ that died, yea rather that is risen again,’ who shall condemn
me? He is near that justifies me, Rom. viii. 33, 34.” Now if thou do
indeed flee unto him for refuge, that city is open for thee, and nothing
to prejudge thy entry. But no curse, no condemnation can enter in it, Rom.
viii. 1. He will justify and absolve thee from all things whereof the law
could not justify thee, but condemn thee. There is forgiveness with him,
that he may be feared. David may teach thee this manner of application,
(Psal. cxxx. and cxlii. 2) of appealing from the deserved curse, to free
undeserved blessing and mercy in Christ.
Let us consider this name of the Lord, and it shall answer all our
suspicions of him,—all our objections against coming to him and believing
in him. It is certain, ignorance is the mother of unbelief, together with
the natural perverseness of our hearts. If we knew his name, we would
trust in him; if his names were pondered and considered, we would believe
in him. Satan knows this, and therefore his great sleight and cunning is
to hold our minds fixed on the consideration of our misery and desperate
estate. He keeps the awakened conscience still upon that comfortless
sight, and he labours to represent God by halves, and that it is a false
representation of God. He represents him as clothed with justice and
vengeance,—as a consuming fire, in which light a soul can see nothing but
desperation written; and he labours to hold out the thoughts of his mercy
and grace, or diverts a soul from the consideration of his promises;
whence it comes, that they are not established, that though salvation be
near, yet it is far from them in their sense and apprehension. Therefore I
say, you should labour to get an entire sight of God, and you shall see
him best in his word, where he reveals himself, and there you find, if you
consider, that which may make you fear him indeed, but never flee from
him,—that which may abase you, but withal embolden you to come to him
though trembling. Whatever thought possess thee of thine own misery, of
thy own guiltiness, labour to counterpoise that with the thought of his
mercy and free promises. Whatever be suggested of his holiness and
justice, hear himself speak out his own name, and thou shall hear as much
of mercy and grace as may make these not terrible unto thee, though high
and honourable. The Lord hath so framed the expression and proclamation of
his name in this place, that first a word of majesty and power is
premised,—“the Lord, the Lord God,”—that it may compose our hearts in fear
and reverence of such a glorious one, and make a preparatory impression of
the majesty of our God, which indeed is the foundation or all true faith.
It begins to adore and admire a deity, a majesty hid from the world. The
thoughts of his power and glory possess the soul first, and make it begin
to tremble to think that it hath such a high and holy one to deal with.
But, in the next place, you have the most sweet, alluring, comforting
styles that can be imagined, to meet with the trembling and languishing
condition of a soul that would be ready to faint before such a majesty.
Here Mercy takes it by the hand, and gives a cordial of grace, pardon,
forgiveness, &c. to it, which revives the soul of the humble, and
intermingles some rejoicing with former trembling. Majesty and greatness
go before to abase and humble the soul in its own eyes; and mercy and
goodness second them to lift up those who are low and exalt the humble.
And in the description of this, the Lord spends more words, according to
the necessity of a soul, to signify to us how great and strong consolation
may be grounded on his name,—how accessible he is, though he dwell in
accessible light,—how lovely he is, though he be the high and the lofty
one,—how good he is, though he be great,—how merciful he is, though he be
majestic. In a word, that those that flee to him may have all invitation,
all encouragement to come, and nothing to discourage, to prejudge their
welcome; that whoever will, may come, and nothing may hinder on his part.
And then, after all this, he subjoins a word of his justice, in avenging
sin, to show us that he leaves that as the last; that he essays all
gaining ways of mercy with us; and that he is not very much delighted with
the death of sinners, that so whosoever perishes may blame themselves for
hating their own salvation and forsaking their own mercy.
Now whoever thou art that apprehendest a dreadful and terrible God, and
thyself a miserable and wretched sinner, thou canst find no comfort in
God’s highness and power, but it looks terrible upon thee, because thou
doubtest of his good-will to save and pardon thee. Thou sayest with the
blind man, If thou wilt, thou canst do it; thou art a strong God, but what
comfort can I have in thy strength, since I know not thy good-will? I say,
the Lord answers thee in this name, I am “merciful,” saith the Lord. If
thou be miserable, I am merciful as well as strong; if thou have sin and
misery, I have compassion and pity. My mercy may be a copy and pattern to
all men to learn it of me, even towards their own brethren, Luke vi. 36.
Therefore he is called “the father of mercies,” 2 Cor. i. 3. _Misericors
est cui alterius miseria cordi est_. Mercy hath its very name from misery,
for it is no other thing than to lay another’s misery to heart; not to
despise it, not to add to it, but to help it. It is a strong inclination
to succour the misery of sinners, therefore thou needest no other thing to
commend thee to him. Art thou miserable, and knowest it indeed? Then he is
merciful; and know that also, these two suit well.
Nay, but saith the convinced soul, I know not if he will be merciful to
me, for what am I? There is nothing in me to be regarded. I have nothing
to conciliate favour, and all that may procure hatred. But, saith the
Lord, I am “gracious,” and dispense mercy freely, without respect to
condition or qualification. Say not, if I had such a measure of
humiliation as such a one,—if I loved him so much,—if I had so much godly
sorrow and repentance,—then, I think he would be merciful to me. Say not
so, for behold he is gracious. He hath mercy on whom he will have mercy;
and there is no other cause, no motive to procure it; it comes from within
his own breast. It is not thy repentance will make him love thee, nor thy
hardness of heart will make him hate thee or obstruct the vent of his
grace towards thee. No! if it be grace, it is no more of works,—not works
in that way that thou imaginest. It is not of repentance, not of faith in
that sense thou conceivest; but it is freely, without the hire, without
the price of repentance or faith, because all those are but the free gifts
of grace. Thou wouldst have these graces to procure his favour, and to
make them the ground of thy believing in his promises, but grace is
without money. It immediately contracts with discovered misery, so that if
thou do discover in thyself misery and sin, though thou find nothing else,
yet do not cast away confidence, but so much the more address thyself to
mercy and grace, which do not seek repentance in thee, but bring
repentance and faith with them unto thee. Yet there is something in the
awakened conscience. I have gone on long in sin; I have been a
presumptuous sinner; can he endure me longer? Well, hear what the Lord
saith, I am “long-suffering” and patient. And if he had not been so, we
had been damned ere now. Patience hath a long term, and we cannot outrun
it, outweary it. Why do we not wonder that he presently and instantly
executed his wrath on angels, and gave them not one hour’s space for
repentance, but cast them down headlong into destruction, as in a moment;
and yet his majesty hath so long delayed the execution of our sentence,
and calls us unto repentance and forgiveness, that we may escape the
condemnation of angels? His patience is not slackness and negligence, as
men count it, 2 Pet. iii. 9. He sits not in heaven as an idol, and idle
spectator of what men are doing; but he observes all wrongs, and is
sensible of them also. And if we were mindful and sensible of them also,
he would forget them. He is long-suffering. This is extended and
stretched-out patience beyond all expectation, beyond all deserving, yea
contrary to it. Therefore, as long as he forbears, if thou apprehend thy
misery and sin, and continuance in it; do not conclude that it is
desperate. “Why should a living man complain?” As long as patience
lengthens thy life, if thou desire to come to him, believe he will accept
thee.
But, saith the doubting soul, I am exceeding perverse and wicked, there is
nothing in me but wickedness. It so abounds in me that there is none like
me. But, saith the Lord, I am “abundant in goodness.” Thy wickedness
though it be great, it is but a created wickedness, but my goodness is the
goodness of God. I am as abundant in grace and goodness as thou art in
sin—nay, infinitely more. Thy sin is but the transgression of a finite
creature, but my mercy is the compassion of an infinite God,—it can
swallow it up. Suppose thy sin cry up to heaven, yet mercy reaches above
heaven, and is built up for ever. Here is an invitation to all sinners to
come and taste—O come and taste, and see how good the Lord is! Goodness is
communicative; it diffuses itself, like the sun’s light. There is riches
of his goodness. Rom. ii. 4. Poor soul, thou canst not spend it though
thou have many wants!
But I am full of doubtings, fears, and jealousies. I cannot believe in his
promises. I often question them. How, then, will he perform them? I say,
saith the Lord, I am abundant in truth. He will certainly perform. Shall
our unbelief, or doubting, “make the faith of God without effect?” &c.
Rom. iii. 3. God forbid! His faithfulness reaches unto the clouds; he will
keep covenant with thee whose soul hath chosen him, though thou often
question and doubt of him. Indeed, thou shouldst not give indulgence to
thy doubtings and jealousies, but look on them as high provocations. For
what can be more grievous to fervent love than to meet with jealousy?
Jealousy would quench any creature’s love, but though it grieve and
provoke him, yet he will not change, he will not diminish his. Only do not
think your disputings and quarrelling innocent and harmless things. No
certainly, they grieve the Spirit—stir up the beloved to go away, as it
were, before he please—and make thee walk without comfort, and without
fruit. Yet he will bear with, and not quench “the smoking flax” of a
believer’s desires, though they do not arise to the flame of assurance.
But the wounded spirit hath one or two burdens more. I have abused much
mercy; how can mercy pity me? I have turned grace into wantonness so that
when I look to mercy and grace to comfort me, they do rather challenge me.
The sins of none are like mine,—none of such a heinous and presumptuous
nature. But let us hear what God the Lord speaks. I keep “mercy for
thousands, forgiving iniquity, and transgression, and sin. Thou hast
wasted much mercy, but more is behind, all the treasure is not spent.
Though there were many thousand worlds besides, I could pardon them all,
if they would flee unto my mercy. Thou shalt not be straitened in me.”
Mercy will pardon thy abuse of mercy, it will forgive all faults thou dost
against itself. Thou that sinnest against the Son of man, the Redeemer of
the world, and remedy of sin—yet there is pardon for thee, whatever the
quality, condition, or circumstance of thy sin be. Whoever, convinced of
it, and loadened with it, desirest rest to thy soul, thou mayest find it
in Christ, whose former kindness thou hast answered with contempt. Many
sins, many great sins, and these presumptuous sins cannot exclude, nay, no
sin can exclude a willing soul. Unbelief keeps thee unwilling, and so
excludes thee.
Now, as the spider sucks poison out of the sweetest flower, so the most
part of souls suck nothing but delusion and presumption and hardening out
of the gospel. Many souls reason for more liberty to sin from mercy. But
behold, how the Lord backs it with a dreadful word, “who will by no means
clear the guilty.” As many as do not condemn themselves before the
tribunal of justice, there is no rescinding of the condemnatory sentence,
but it stands above their heads, “he that believeth not is condemned
already.” Justice hath condemned all by a sentence. He that doth not, in
the sense of this, flee unto Jesus Christ from sin and wrath is already
condemned. His sentence is standing. There needs no new one. Since he
flees not to mercy for absolution, the sentence of condemnation stands
unrepealed. You guilty souls who clear yourselves, God will not clear you.
And, alas! how many of you do clear yourselves! Do you not extenuate and
mince your sins? How hard is it to extort any confession of guilt out of
you, but in the general! If we condescend to particulars, many of you will
plead innocency almost in every thing, though you have, like children,
learned to speak these words that ye are sinners. I beseech you consider
it; it is no light matter, for God will by no means clear the guilty, by
no means, by no entreaties, no flatteries. What! will he not pardon sin?
Yes indeed! his name tells you he will pardon all kind of sins, and
absolve all manner of guilty persons, but yet such as do condemn
themselves, such as are guilty in their own conscience, and their mouths
stopped before God,—you who do not enter into the serious examination of
your ways, and do not arraign yourselves before God’s tribunal daily till
you find yourselves loathsome and desperate, and no refuge for you,—you
who do flatter yourselves always in the hope of heaven, and put the fear
of hell always from you,—I say, God will by no means, no prayers, no
entreaties, clear or pardon you, because you come not to Jesus Christ, in
whom is preached forgiveness and remission of sins. You who take liberty
to sin, because God is gracious, and delay repentance till the end,
because God is long suffering,—know God will not clear you, he is holy and
just as he is merciful. If his mercy make thee not fear and tremble before
him, and do not separate thee from thy sins,—if remission of sins be not
the strongest persuasion to thy soul of the removing of sin,—certainly
thou dost in vain presume upon his mercy.
Now consider what influence all this glorious proclamation had on Moses.
It stirs up in him reverence and affection,—reverence to such a glorious
Majesty, and great desire to have him amongst them, and to be more one
with him. If thy soul rightly discover God, it cannot but abase thee. He
“made haste” to bow down and worship. O, God’s majesty is a surprising and
astonishing thing! It would bow thy soul in the dust if it were presented
to thee. Labour to keep the right and entire representation of God in thy
sight,—his whole name, strong, merciful, and just,—great, good, and holy.
I say, keep both in thy view, for half representations are dangerous,
either to beget presumption and security when thou lookest on mercy alone,
or despair when thou lookest on justice and power alone. Let thy soul
consider all jointly, that it may receive a mixed impression of all. And
this is the holy composition and temper of a believer,—Rejoice with
trembling, love with fear, let all thy discoveries of him aim at more
union and communion with him who is such a self sufficient, all
sufficient, and eternal Being.
Lecture X.
What God Is
John iv. 24.—“God is a Spirit, and they that worship him must
worship him in spirit and in truth.”
We have here something of the nature of God pointed out to us, and
something of our duty towards him. “God is a Spirit,” that is his nature,
and “man must worship him,” that is his duty, and that “in spirit and in
truth,” that is the right manner of the duty. If these three were well
pondered till they did sink into the bottom of our spirits, they would
make us indeed Christians, not in the letter, but in the spirit. That is
presupposed to all Christian worship and walking, to know what God is, it
is indeed the _primo cognitum_ of Christianity, the first principle of
true religion, the very root out of which springs and grows up walking
suitably with, and worshipping answerably of, a known God. I fear much of
our religion is like the Athenians, they built an altar to the unknown
God, and like the Samaritans, who worshipped they knew not what. Such a
worship, I know not what it is, when the God worshipped is not known. The
two parents of true religion are the knowledge of God and of ourselves.
This, indeed, is the beginning of the fear of God, which the wise preacher
calls “the beginning of true wisdom.” And these two, as they beget true
religion, so they cannot truly be one without the other. It is not many
notions and speculations about the divine nature,—it is not high and
strained conceptions of God,—that comprise the true knowledge of him. Many
think they know something when they can speak of those mysteries in some
singular way, and in some terms removed from common understandings, while
neither themselves nor others know what they mean. And thus they are
presumptuous, self conceited, knowing nothing as they ought to know. There
is a knowledge that puffs up and there is a knowledge that casts down, a
knowledge in many that doth but swell them, not grow them. It is but a
rumour full of wind, a vain and empty, frothy knowledge that is neither
good for edifying other, nor saving a man’s self, a knowledge that a man
knows and reflects upon so as to ascend upon the height of it, and measure
himself by the degrees of it. This is not the true knowledge of God, which
knows not itself, looks not back upon itself, but straight towards God,
his holiness and glory and our baseness and misery, and therefore it
constrains the soul to be ashamed of itself in such a glorious presence,
and to make haste to worship, as Moses, Job, and Isaiah did.
This definition of God—if we did truly understand it, we could not but
worship him in another manner. “God is a Spirit.” Many ignorant people
form in their own mind some likeness and image of God, who is invisible.
Ye know how ye fancy to yourselves some bodily shape. When you conceive of
him, you think he is some reverend and majestic person sitting on a throne
in heaven. But, I beseech you, correct your mistakes of him. There is
outward idolatry and there is inward, there is idolatry in action, when
men paint or engrave some similitude of God, and there is idolatry in
imagination, when the fancy and apprehension run upon some image or
likeness of God. The first is among Papists, but I fear the latter is too
common among us, and it is indeed all one, to form such a similitude in
our mind and to engrave or paint it without. So that the God whom many of
us worship is not the living and true God, but a painted or graven idol.
When God appeared most visible to the world, as at the giving out of the
law, yet no man did see any likeness at all. He did not come under the
perception of the most subtle sense, he could not be perceived but by the
refined understanding going aside from all things visible. And therefore
you do but fancy an idol to yourselves, instead of God, when you apprehend
him under the likeness of any visible or sensible thing, and so whatever
love or fear or reverence you have, it is all but misspent superstition,
the love and fear of an idol.
I. Know then, “that God is a Spirit,” and therefore he is like none of all
those things you see, or hear, or smell, or taste, or touch. The heavens
are glorious indeed, the light is full of glory, but he is not like that.
If all your senses should make an inquiry, and search for him throughout
the world, you should not find him. Though he be near at hand to every one
of us yet our eyes and ears and all our senses, might travel the length of
the earth and breadth of the sea, and should not find him even as you
might search all the corners of heaven ere you could hear or see an angel.
If you would saw a man asunder and resolve him into atoms of dust, yet you
could not perceive a soul within him. Why? Because these are spirits, and
so without the reach of your senses.
II. If God be a Spirit, then he is invisible, and dwells in light
inaccessible, “which no man hath seen or can see.” Then our poor narrow
minds, that are drowned, as it were, and immersed in bodies of clay, and
in this state of mortality, receive all knowledge by the senses, cannot
frame any notion of his spiritual and abstracted nature. We cannot
conceive what our own soul is, but by some sensible operation flowing from
it, and the height that our knowledge of that noble part of ourselves
amounts to, is but this dark and confused conception that the soul is some
inward principle of life and sense and reason. How then is it possible for
us to conceive aright of the divine nature, as it is in itself, but only
in a dark and general way? We guess at his majesty, by the glorious
emanations of his power and wisdom, and the ways thereof, which he
displays abroad in all the work of his hands, and from all these
concurring testimonies, and evidences of his majesty, we gather this
confused notion of him, that he is the fountain, self independent Being,
the original of these things, and more absolute in the world than the soul
is in the body, the true _Anima mundi_, the very life and the light of
men, and the soul that quickens, moves, and forms all this visible world,
that makes all things visible, and himself is invisible. Therefore it is
that the Lord speaks to us in Scripture of himself, according to our
capacities,—of his face, his right hand, and arm, his throne, his sceptre,
his back parts his anger, his fury, his repentance, his grief, and
sorrow,—none of which are properly in his spiritual, immortal, and
unchangeable nature. But because our dulness and slowness is such in
apprehending things spiritual, it being almost without the sphere and
comprehension of the soul while in the body, which is almost addicted unto
the senses in the body, therefore the Lord accommodates himself unto our
terms and notions, _balbutit nobiscum_,—he, like a kind father, stammers
with his stammering children, speaks to them in their own dialect, but
withal, would have us conceive he is not really such an one, but
infinitely removed in his own being from all these imperfections. So when
you hear of these terms in scripture, O beware of conceiving God to be
such a one as yourselves! But, in these expressions not beseeming his
Majesty, because below him, learn your own ignorance of his glorious
Majesty, your dulness and incapacity to be such as the holy One must come
down as it were in some bodily appearance, ere you can understand any
thing of him.
III. If God be a Spirit, then he is most perfect and most powerful. All
imperfection, all infirmity, and weakness in the creature, is founded in
the gross and material part of it. You see the more matter and bodily
substance is in any thing, it is the more lumpish, heavy, and void of all
action. It is the more spiritual, pure, and refined part of the creation
that hath most activity in it, and is the principle of all motions and
actions. You see a little fly hath more action in it than a great
mountain, because there are spirits in it which move it. The bottom of the
world contains the dregs of the creation, as it were,—a mass and lump of
heavy earth, but the higher and more distant bodies be from that, the more
pure and subtile they are, and the more pure and subtile they be, the more
action, virtue, and efficacy they have. The earth stands like a dead lump
but the sea moves, and the air being thinner and purer than both, moves
more easily and swiftly. But go up higher and still the motion is swifter,
and the virtue and influence is the more powerful. What is a dead body
when the soul and spirit is out of it? It hath no more virtue and efficacy
than so much clay, although by the presence of the spirit of it, it was
active, agile, swift, strong and nimble. So much then as any thing hath of
spirit in it, so much the more perfect and powerful it is. Then I beseech
you consider what a One the God of the spirits of all flesh must be,—the
very Fountain spirit,—the Self being spirit,—αυτο πνευμα. When the soul of
a man, or the spirit of a horse, hath so much virtue, to stir up a lump of
earth, and to quicken it to so many diverse operations, even though that
soul and spirit did not, nay could not make that piece of earth they dwell
in, then, what must his power and virtue be that made all those things?
Who gave power and virtue even to the spirits of all flesh? “Their horses”
saith God, are “flesh and not spirit,” (Isa. xxxi. 3) because, in
comparison of his majesty, the very spirits in them are but like a dead
lump of flesh. If he should draw in his breath, as it were, they would
have no more virtue to save the Israelites, than so many lumps of flesh or
clay. For he is the Spirit of all spirits, that quickens, actuates and
moves them to their several operations and influences. _Anima mundi, et
Anima animarum mundi_. An angel hath more power than all men united in one
body. Satan is called the prince of the air, and the god of this world,
for he hath more efficacy and virtue to commove the air, and raise
tempests than all the swarms of multiplied mankind, though gathered into
one army. If the Lord did not restrain and limit his power, he were able
to destroy whole nations at once. An angel killed many thousands of
Sennacherib’s army in one night, what would many angels do then, if the
Lord pleased to apply them to that work? O what is man that he should
magnify himself, or glory in strength, or skill? Beasts are stronger than
men, but man’s weaker strength being strengthened with more skill, proves
stronger than they. But in respect of angels he hath neither strength nor
wisdom.
IV. If God be a Spirit, then he is not circumscribed by any place, and if
an infinite Spirit, then he is everywhere, no place can include him, and
no body can exclude him. He is within all things, yet not included nor
bounded within them, and he is without all things, yet not excluded from
them. _Intra omnia, non tamen inclusus in illis, extra omnia, nec tamen
exclustts ab illis_. You know every body hath its own bounds and limits
circumscribed to it, and shuts out all other bodily things out of the same
space, so that before the least body want some space, it will put all the
universe in motion, and make every thing about it to change its place, and
possess another. But a spirit can pass through all of them and never
disturb them, a legion may be in one man, and have room enough. If there
were a wall of brass or tower, having no opening, neither above nor
beneath, no body could enter but by breaking through, and making a breach
into it, but an angel or spirit could storm it without a breach, and
pierce through it without any division of it. How much more doth the Maker
of all spirits fill all in all! The thickness of the earth doth not keep
him out, nor the largeness of the heavens contain him. How then do we
circumscribe and limit him within the bounds of a public house, or the
heavens? O! how narrow thoughts have we of his immense greatness, who,
without division or multiplication of himself, fills all the corners of
the world,—whose indivisible unity is equivalent to an infinite extension
and divisibility! How often, I pray you, do you reflect upon this? God is
near to every one of us. Who of us thinks of a divine Majesty nearer us
than our very souls and consciences, “in whom we live and move, and have
our being”? How is it we move, and think not with wonder of that first
Mover in whom we move? How is it we live and persevere in being and do not
always consider this fountain-Being in whom we live and have our being? O,
the atheism of many souls professing God! We do speak, walk, eat, and
drink, and go about all our businesses, as if we were self being, and
independent of any, never thinking of that all present quickening Spirit,
that acts us, moves us, speaks in us, makes us to walk and eat and drink,
as the barbarous people who see, hear, speak and reason, and never once
reflect upon the principle of all these, to discern a soul within. This is
brutish, and in this, man who was made of a straight countenance to look
upward to God, and to know himself and his Maker, till he might be
differenced from all creatures below, is degenerated, and become like the
beasts that perish. Who of us believes this all present God? We imagine
that he is shut up in heaven, and takes no such notice of affairs below,
but certainly, he is not so far from us, though he show more of his glory
above, yet he is as present and observant below.
V. If he be a Spirit, then as he is incomprehensible and immense in being,
so also there is no comprehension of his knowledge. The nearer any
creature comes to the nature of a spirit, the more knowing and
understanding it is. Life is the most excellent being, and understanding
is the most excellent life. _Materia est iners et mortua._ The nearer any
thing is to the earthly matter, as it hath less action, so less life and
feeling. Man is nearer an angel than beasts, and therefore he hath a
knowing understanding spirit in him. There is a spirit in man, and the
more or less this spirit of man is abstracted from sensual and material
things, it lives the more excellent and pure life, and is, as it were,
more or less delivered from the chains of the body. These souls that have
never risen above, and retired from sensible things, O, how narrow are
they,—how captivated within the prison of the flesh! But when the Lord
Jesus comes to set free he delivers a soul from this bondage, he makes
these chains fall off and leads the soul apart to converse with God
himself, and to meditate on things not seen—sin, wrath, hell, and heaven.
And the farther it goes from itself, and the more abstracted it is from
the consideration of present things, the more it lives a life like angels.
And therefore, when the soul is separated from the body, it is then
perfectly free, and hath the largest extent of knowledge. A man’s soul
must be almost like Paul’s “whether out of the body, or in the body, I
know not,”—if he would understand aright spiritual things. Now then, this
infinite Spirit is an all knowing Spirit, all seeing Spirit, as well as
all-present, “there is no searching of his understanding,” Isa. xl. 28,
Psalm. cxlvii. 5. “Who hath directed the Spirit of the Lord, or being his
counsellor, hath taught him?” Isa. xl. 13, Rom. xi. 34. He calls the
generations from the beginning, and known to him are all his works from
the beginning. O that you would always set this God before you, or rather
set yourselves always in his presence, in whose sight you are always! How
would it compose our hearts to reverence and fear in all our actions, if
we did indeed believe that the Judge of all the world is an eye witness to
our most retired and secret thoughts and doings! If any man were as privy
to thy thoughts, as thy own spirit and conscience, thou wouldst blush and
be ashamed before him. If every one of us could open a window into one
another’s spirits, I think this assembly should dismiss as quickly as that
of Christ’s, when he bade them that were without sin cast a stone at the
woman. We could not look one upon another. O then, why are we so little
apprehensive of the all-searching eye of God, who can even declare to us
our thought, before it be? How much atheism is rooted in the heart of the
most holy! We do not always meditate, with David, Psal. cxxxix., on that
all searching and all knowing Spirit who knows our down sitting and
uprising, and understands our thoughts afar off, and who is acquainted
with all our ways. O how would we ponder our path, and examine our words,
and consider our thoughts beforehand if we set ourselves in the view of
such a Spirit, that is within us and without us, before us and behind us!
He may spare sinners as long as he pleases, for there is no escaping from
him. You cannot go out of his dominions, nay, you cannot run out of his
presence, Psal. cxxxix. 7-10. He can reach you when he pleases, therefore
he may delay as long as he pleases.
Lecture XI.
The Knowledge That God Is, Combined With The Knowledge That He Is To Be
Worshipped.
John iv. 24.—“God is a Spirit, and they that worship him must
worship him in spirit and in truth.”
There are two common notions engraven on the hearts of all men by
nature,—that God is, and that he must be worshipped, and these two live
and die together, they are clear, or blotted together. According as the
apprehension of God is clear, and distinct, and more deeply engraven on
the soul, so is this notion of man’s duty of worshipping God clear and
imprinted on the soul, and whenever the actions of men do prove that the
conception of the worship of God is obliterate or worn out,—whenever their
transgressions do witness that a man hath not a lively notion of this duty
of God’s worship,—that doth also prove that the very notion of a godhead
is worn out, and cancelled in the soul, for how could souls conceive of
God as he is indeed, but they must needs, with Moses, (Exod. xxxiv. 8)
make haste to pray and worship? It is the principle of the very law of
nature which shall make the whole world inexcusable, “because that when
they knew God, they glorified him not as God.” A father must have honour,
and a master must have fear, and God, who is the common parent and
absolute master of all, must have worship, in which reverence and fear,
mixed with rejoicing and affection, predominate. It is supposed, and put
beyond all question that he must be; “he that worships him, must worship
him in spirit and in truth.” It is not simply said, God is a Spirit and
must be worshipped, no, for none can doubt of it. If God be, then
certainly worship is due to him, for who is so worshipful? And because it
is so beyond all question, therefore woe to the irreligious world that
never puts it in practice! O, what excuse can you have, who have not so
much as a form of godliness! Do you not know, that it is beyond all
controversy that God must be worshipped? Why then do you deny that in your
practice, which all men must confess in their conscience? Is not he God,
the Lord, a living and self being Spirit? Then must he not have
worshippers? Beasts are not created for it, it is you, O sons of men! whom
he made for his own praise, and it is not more suitable to your nature
than it is honourable and glorious. This is the great dignity and
excellency you are privileged with, beyond the brute beasts,—to have
spirits within you capable of knowing and acknowledging the God of your
spirits. Why then do you both rob and spoil God of his glory, and cast
away your own excellency? Why do you love to trample on your ornaments and
wallow in the puddle; like beasts void of religion, but so much worse than
beasts, that you ought to be better, and were created for a more noble
design? O base spirited wretches, who hang down your souls to this earth,
and follow the dictates of your own sense and lust, and have not so much
as an external form of worshipping God! How far are you come short of the
noble design of your creation, and the high end of your immortal souls! If
you will not worship God, know, he will have worshippers. Certainly he
will not want it; because he hath designed so many souls to stand before
him, and worship him, and that number will not fail. He might indeed have
wanted worshippers: for what advantage is it to him? But in this he
declares his love and respect to man, that he will not want honour and
service from him. It is rather to put honour upon him, and to make him
blessed and happy, than for any gain that can amount to himself by it. For
this is indeed the true honour and happiness of man, not to be worshipped
and served of other fellow-creatures, but to worship and serve the
Creator. This is the highest advancement of a soul, to lie low before him,
and to obey him, and have our service accepted of his Majesty. I beseech
you, strive about this noble service! Since he must have worshippers, O
say within your souls, “I must be one! If he had but one, I could not be
content if I were not that one.” Since the Father is seeking worshippers,
(ver. 23,) O let him find thee! Offer thyself to him, saying, Lord, here
am I. Should he seek you, who can have no advantage from you? Should he go
about so earnest a search for true worshippers, who can have no profit by
them? And why do ye not seek him, since to you all the gain and profit
redounds? Shall he seek you to make you happy? And why do ye not seek him
and happiness in him? It is your own service, I may truly say, and not his
so much; for in serving him thou dost rather serve thyself; for all the
benefit redounds to thyself, though thou must not intend such an end, to
serve him for thyself, but for his name’s sake; else thou shalt neither
honour him, nor advantage thyself. I pray you let him not seek in vain,
for in these afflictions he is seeking worshippers; and if he find you,
you are found and saved indeed. Do not then forsake your own mercy, to run
from him who follows you with salvation.
As none can be ignorant that God is, and must be worshipped, so it is
unknown to the world in what manner he must be worshipped. The most part
of men have some form in worshipping God, and please themselves in it so
well that they think God is well pleased with it; but few there are who
know indeed what it is to worship him in a manner acceptable to his
Majesty. Now you know it is all one not to worship him at all, as not to
worship him in that way he likes to be worshipped. Therefore, the most
part of men are but self-worshippers, because they please none but
themselves in it. It is not the worship his soul hath chosen, but their
own invention; for you must take this as an undeniable ground, that God
must be worshipped according to his own will and pleasure, and not
according to your humour or intention. Therefore, his soul abhors
will-worship, devised by men out of ignorant zeal or superstition, though
there might seem much devotion in it, and much affection to God. As in the
Israelites sacrificing their children, what more seeming self-denial,—and
yet what more real self-idolatry? God owns not such a service, for it is
not service and obedience to his will and pleasure, but to men’s own will
and humour. Therefore, a man must not look for a reward but from himself.
Now, it is not only will-worship, when the matter and substance of the
worship is not commanded of God, but also when a commanded worship is not
discharged in the appointed manner. Therefore, O how few true worshippers
will the Father find! True worship must have truth for the substance, and
spirit for the manner of it; else it is not such a worship as the Father
seeks and will be pleased with. Divine worship must have truth in it,—that
is plain,—but what was that truth? It must be conformed to the rule and
pattern of worship, which is God’s will and pleasure revealed in the word
of truth. True worship is the very practice of the word of truth. It
carries the image and superscription and command upon it, which is a
necessary ingredient in it, and constituent of it. Therefore, if thy
service have the image of thy own will stamped on it, it is not divine
worship but will-worship. Thus all human ceremonies and ordinances
enjoined for the service of God, carry the inscription not of God, but of
man, who is the author and original of them, and so are but adulterated
and false coin that will not pass current with God. I fear there be many
rites and vain customs among ignorant people, in which they place some
religion, which have no ground in the word of God, but are only “old
wives’ fables” and traditions. How many things of that nature are used
upon a religious account, in which God hath placed no religion! Many have
a superstitious conceit of the public place of worship, as if there were
more holiness in it than in any other house; and so they think their
prayers in the church are more acceptable than in their chamber. But
Christ refutes that superstitious opinion of places, and so consequently
of days, meats, and all such external things. The Jews had a great opinion
of their temple, the Samaritans of their mountain,—as if these places had
sanctified their services. But saith our Lord, (ver. 21,) “The hour cometh
when ye shall neither in this mountain nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the
Father,” but it is any where acceptable, if so be ye worship in spirit and
truth. Many of you account it religion to pray and mutter words of your
own in the time of public prayer; but who hath required this at your
hands? If ye would pray yourselves, go apart; shut the door behind thee,
saith Christ. Private prayer should be in private and secret; but where
public prayer is, your hearts should close with the petitions, and offer
them up jointly to God. It is certainly a great sleight of that deceitful
destroyer, the devil, to possess your minds with an opinion of religion in
such vain babblings, that he may withdraw both your ears and your hearts
from the public worship of God; for when every one is busied with his own
prayers, you cannot at all join in the public service of God which is
offered up in your name. The like I may say of stupid forms of prayer, and
tying yourselves to a platform, written in a book, or to some certain
words gotten by the heart? Who hath commanded this? Sure, not the Lord,
who hath promised his Spirit to teach them to pray, and help their
infirmities, who know not how, nor what to pray. It is a device of your
own, invented by Satan to quench the spirit of supplication, which should
be the very natural breathing of a Christian. But there are some so
grossly ignorant of what prayer is, that they make use of the ten
commandments, and creed, as a prayer. So void are they of the knowledge
and Spirit of God that they cannot discern betwixt God’s commands to
themselves and their own requests to God; betwixt his speaking to men, and
their speaking to him; between their professing of him before men, and
praying and confessing to him. All this is but forged, imaginary
worship,—worship falsely so called, which the Father seeks not, and
receives not.
But what if I should say, that the most part of your worship, even that
which is commanded of God, as prayer, hearing, reading, &c., hath no truth
in it, I should say nothing amiss. For though you do those things that are
commanded, yet not as commanded, without any respect to divine
appointment; and only because you have received them as traditions from
your fathers, and because you are taught so by the precepts of men, and
are accustomed so to do: therefore the stamp of God’s will and pleasure is
not engraven on them, but of your own will, or of the will of men. Let me
pose(138) your consciences, many of you, what difference is there between
your praying and your plowing; between your hearing, and your harrowing;
between your reading in the Scriptures, and your reaping in the harvest;
between your religious service and your common ordinary actions; I say,
what difference is there in the rise of these? You do many civil things
out of custom, or because of the precepts of men; and is there any other
principle at the bottom of your religious performances? Do you at all
consider these are divine appointments,—these have a stamp of his
authority on them? And from the conscience of such an immediate command of
God, and the desire to please him and obey him, do you go about these? I
fear many cannot say it. O, I am sure all cannot, though it may be all
will say it. Therefore your religious worship can come in no other account
than will-worship, or man-worship. It hath not the stamp of truth on
it,—an express conformity to the truth of God as his truth.
But we must press this out a little more. Truth is opposed to a ceremony
and shadow. The ceremonies of old were shadows, or the external body of
religion, in which the soul and spirit of godliness should have been
enclosed; but the Lord did always urge more earnestly the substance and
truth than the ceremony,—the weightier matters of the law, piety, equity,
and sobriety, than these lighter external ceremonies. He sets a higher
account upon mercy than sacrifice, and upon obedience than ceremonies. But
this people turned it just contrary. They summed up all their religion in
some ceremonial performance, and separated those things God had so nearly
conjoined. They would be devout men in offering sacrifices, in their
washings, in their rites, and yet made no conscience of heart and soul
piety towards God and upright just dealing with men. Therefore the Lord so
often quarrels with them, and rejects all their service as being a device
and invention of their own, which never entered into his heart. Isa. v.
10-15, Jer. vii. throughout, Isa. lxvi. 3-4, Isa. xxviii. Now, if you will
examine it impartially, it is even just so with us. There are some
external things in religion which, in comparison with the weightier things
of faith and obedience are but ceremonial. In these you place the most
part if not all your religion, and think yourselves good Christians, if
you be baptized, and hear the word, and partake of the Lord’s table, and
such like, though in the meantime you be not given to secret prayer, and
reading, and do not inwardly judge and examine yourselves that ye may flee
unto a Mediator—though your conversation be unjust and scandalous among
men. I say unto such souls as the Lord unto the Jews, “Who hath required
this at your hands? Who commanded you to hear the word, to be baptized, to
wait on public ordinances? Away with all this, it is abomination to his
majesty!” Though it please you never so well, the more it displeases him.
If you say, Why commands he us to hear? &c., I say, the Lord never
commanded these external ordinances for the sum of true religion; that was
not the great thing which was in his heart, that he had most pleasure unto
but the weightier matters of the law, piety, equity, and sobriety, a holy
and godly conversation adorning the gospel. “What doth the Lord require of
thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy
God?” So then, thou dost not worship him in truth, but in a shadow. The
truth is holiness and righteousness. That external profession is but a
ceremony. While you separate these external ordinances from these weighty
duties of piety and justice, they are but a dead body without a soul. If
the Lord required truth of old, much more now, when he hath abolished the
multitude of ceremonies, that the great things of his law may be more seen
and loved.
If you would then be true worshippers, look to the whole mind of God, and
especially the chief pleasure of God’s mind, that which he most delights
in, and by any means do not separate what God hath conjoined. Do not
divide righteousness towards men from a profession of holiness to God,
else it is but a falsehood, a counterfeit coin. Do not please yourselves
so much in external church privileges, without a holy and godly
conversation adorning the gospel, but let the chief study, endeavour, and
delight of your souls be about that which God most delights in. Let the
substantiate of religion have the first place in the soul. Pray more in
secret, that will be the life of your souls. You ought, indeed, to attend
public ordinances, but, above all, take heed to your conversation and
walking at home, and in secret. Prayer in your family is a more
substantial worship than to sit and hear prayer in public, and prayer in
secret is more substantial than that. The more retired and immediate a
duty be, the more weighty it is, the more it crosses thy corruptions and
evidences the stamp of God on thy affections, the more divine it is, and
therefore to serve God in these is to serve him in truth. Practice hath
more of truth in it than a profession. “When your fathers executed
judgment, was not this to know me?” Duties that have more opposition from
our nature, against them, and less fuel or oil to feed the flame of our
self love and corruption, have more truth in them, and if you should
worship God in all other duties, and not especially in these, you do not
worship him in truth.
Next, let us consider the manner of divine worship, and this is as needful
to true worship as true matter, that it he commanded, and done as it is
commanded,—that completes true worship. Now, I know no better way or
manner to worship God in, than so to worship him, as our worship may carry
the stamp of his image upon it as it may be a glass wherein we may behold
God’s nature and properties. For such as himself is, such he would be
acknowledged to be. I would think it were true worship indeed, which had
engraven on it the name of the true and living God, if it did speak out so
much of itself. “That God is, and that he is a rewarder of them that seek
him diligently.” Most part of our service speaks an unknown God, and
carries such an inscription upon it, “To the unknown God.” There is so
little either reverence, or love, or fear, or knowledge in it, as if we
did not worship the true God, but an idol. It is said, that “the fool says
in his heart, there is no God, because his thoughts and affections and
actions are so little composed to the fear and likeness of that God, as if
he did indeed plainly deny him.” I fear it may be said thus of our
worship. It says, There is no God. It is of such a nature that none could
conclude from it that it had any relation to the true God. Our prayers
deny God, because there is nothing of God appears in them. But this is
true worship when it renders back to God his own image and name. _Unde
repercussus redditur ipse sibi._ As it is a pure fountain, in which a man
may see his shadow distinctly, but a troubled fountain or mire in which he
cannot behold himself, so it is pure worship, which receives and reflects
the pure image of God, but impure and unclean worship which cannot receive
it and return it. I pray you, Christians, consider this for it is such
worshippers the Father seeks. And why seeks he such, but because in them
he finds himself? So to speak, his own image and superscription is upon
them, his mercy is engraven on their faith and confidence, his majesty and
power is stamped on their humility and reverence, his goodness is to be
read in the soul’s rejoicing, his greatness and justice in the soul’s
trembling. Thus there ought to be some engravings on the soul answering
the characters of his glorious name. O how little of this is among them
that desire to know something of God! How little true worship, even among
them whom the Father hath sought out to make true worshippers! But alas,
how are all of us unacquainted with this kind of worship! We stay upon the
first principles and practices of religion, and go not on to build upon
the foundation. Sometimes your worship hath a stamp of God’s holiness and
justice in fear and terror at such a majesty which makes you tremble
before him, but where is the stamp of his mercy and grace which should be
written in your faith and rejoicing? Tremble and fear indeed, but “rejoice
with trembling, because there is mercy with him.” Sometimes there is
rejoicing and quietness in the soul, but that quickly degenerates into
carnal confidence, and makes the soul turn grace into wantonness and
esteem of itself above what is right, because it is not counterpoised with
the sense and apprehension of his holiness and justice. But O to have
these jointly written upon the heart in worship, fear, reverence,
confidence, humility and faith! That is a rare thing; it is a divine
composition and temper of spirit that makes a divine soul. For the most
part, our worship savours and smells nothing of God, neither his power,
nor his mercy and grace, nor his holiness and justice, nor his majesty and
glory; a secure, faint, formal way, void of reverence, of humility, of
fervency, and of faith. I beseech you let us consider, as before the Lord,
how much pains and time we lose, and please none but ourselves, and profit
none at all. Stir up yourselves as in his sight for it is the keeping of
our souls continually as in his sight which will stamp our service with
his likeness. The fixed and constant meditation on God and his glorious
properties, this will beget the resemblance between our worship and the
God whom we worship and it will imprint his image upon it, and then it
should please him, and then it should profit thee, and then it should
edify others.
But more particularly, the worship must have the stamp of God’s spiritual
nature, and be conformed to it in some measure, else it cannot please him.
There must be a conformity between God and souls. This is the great end of
the gospel, to repair that image of God which was once upon man, and make
him like God again. Now, it is this way that Jesus Christ repairs this
image, and brings about the conformity with God, by the soul’s worshipping
of God suitable to his nature, which, as it grows more and more suitable
to God’s nature, it is the more and more like God, and happy in that
likeness. Now, “God is a Spirit, therefore,” saith Christ, you “must
worship him in spirit and in truth.” The worship then of saints must be of
a spiritual nature, that it may be like the immortal divine Spirit. It is
such worshippers the Father seeks. He seeks souls to make them like
himself and this likeness and conformity to God is the very foundation of
the soul’s happiness, and eternal refreshment. This is a point of great
consequence, and I fear not laid to heart. The worship must be like the
worshipped. It is a spirit must worship the eternal Spirit. It is not a
body that can be the principal and chief agent in the business. What
communion can God have with your bodies, while your souls are removed far
from him, more than with beasts? All society and fellowship must be
between those that are like one another. A man can have no comfortable
company with beasts, or with stones, or with trees. It is men that can
converse with men, and a spirit must worship the self being Spirit. Do not
mistake this as if under the cays of the gospel we were not called to an
external and bodily worship—to any service to which our outward man is
instrumental. That is one of the deep delusions of this age, into which
some men, “reprobate concerning the faith,” have fallen, that there should
be no external ordinances, but that Christians are now called to a worship
all spirit, pure spirit, &c. This is one of the spirits, and spiritual
doctrines (that call themselves so) which ye must not receive, for it is
neither the Spirit of God nor of Christ that teacheth this. Not the Spirit
of God the Creator, because he hath made the whole man, body and soul, and
so must be worshipped of the whole man. He hath created man in such a
capacity as he may offer up external actions in a reasonable manner, with
the inward affections. As the Lord hath created him, so should he serve
him—every member every part in its own capacity,—the soul to precede, and
the body to follow,—the soul to be the chief worshipper, and the body its
servant employed in the worship. True worship hath a body and a soul as
well as a true man, and as the soul separated is not a complete man, so
neither is the soul separated a complete worshipper without the body. The
external ordinances of God is the body, the inward soul affection is the
spirit, which being joined together make complete worship. Neither is it
the Spirit of Christ which teacheth this, because our Lord Jesus hath
taught us to offer up our bodies and spirits both as a reasonable service,
Rom. xii. 1, 2. The sacrifice of the bodily performance offered up by the
spiritual affection and renewed mind is a living sacrifice, holy,
acceptable and reasonable. That Spirit which dwelt in Christ above
measure, did not think it too base to vent itself in the way of external
ordinances. He was, indeed, above all, above the law, yet did willingly
come under them to teach us, who have so much need and want, to come under
them. He prayed much, he preached, he did sing and read, to teach us how
to worship, and how much need we have of prayer and preaching. This was
not the spirit Christ promised to his disciples and apostles, which spirit
did breathe most lively in the use of external ordinances all their days,
and this is not the spirit which was at that hour in which Christ spoke
“the hour is come and now is,” ver. 23, in which the true worship of God
shall not be in the external Jewish ceremonies and rites, void of all life
and inward sense of piety, but the true worship of God shall be made up of
a soul and body,—of spirit and truth—of the external appointed ordinances
according to the word of truth, and the spirit of truth,—and of the spirit
and inward soul-affection and sincerity which shall quicken and actuate
that external performance. There were no such worshippers then as had no
use of ordinances. Christ was not such, his disciples were not such,
therefore it is a new gospel, which, if an angel should bring from heaven,
ye ought not to receive it.
As it is certain, then, that both soul and body must be employed in this
business, so it is sure that the soul and spirit must be the first mover
and chiefest agent in it, because it is a spiritual business, and hath
relation to the Fountain spirit, which hath the most perfect opposition to
all false appearances and external shows. That part of man that cometh
nearest God, must draw nearest in worshipping God, and if that be removed
far away, there is no real communion with God. Man judges according to the
outward appearance, and can reach no farther than the outward man, but God
is an all searching Spirit, who trieth the heart and reins, and therefore
he will pass another judgment upon your worship than men can do, because
he observes all the secret wanderings and escapes of the heart out of his
sight. He misses the soul when you present attentive ears or eloquent
tongues. There is no dallying with His Majesty, painting will not deceive
him, his very nature is contrary to hypocrisy and dissimulation; and what
is it but dissimulation, when you present yourselves to religious
exercises as his people, but within are nothing like it, nothing awaking
nothing present? O consider, my beloved, what a one you have to do with!
It is not men, but the Father of spirits, who will not be pleased with
what pleases men, of your own flesh, but must have a spirit to serve him.
Alas! what are we doing with such empty names and shows of religion?
Busied with the outside of worship only, as if we had none to do with but
men who have eyes of flesh. All that we do in this kind is lost labour,
and will never be reckoned up in the account of true worship. I am sure
you know and may reflect upon yourselves, that you make religion but a
matter of outward fashion and external custom; you have never almost taken
it to heart in earnest. You may frequent the ordinances,—you may have a
form of godliness consisting in some outward performances and
privileges,—and O, how void and destitute of all spirit, and life, and
power! Not to speak of the removal of affection and the employing of the
marrow of your soul upon base lusts and creatures, or the scattering of
your desires abroad amongst them, for that is too palpable, even your very
thoughts and minds are removed from this business, you have nothing
present but an ear, or eye, and your minds are about other business, your
desires, your fears, your joys, and delights, your affections, never did
run in the channel of religious exercises, all your passion is vented in
other things. But here you are blockish and stupid, without any sensible
apprehension of God, his mercy, or justice, or wrath, or of your own
misery and want. You sorrow in other things, but none here, none for sin!
You joy for other things, but none here, you cannot rejoice at the gospel!
Prayer is a burden, not a delight. If your spirits were chiefly employed
in religious duties, religion would be almost your element, your pleasure
and recreation; but now it is wearisome to the flesh, because the spirit
taketh not the chief weight upon it. O! “be not deceived, God is not
mocked.” You do but mock yourselves with external shows, while you are
satisfied with them. I beseech you, look inwardly, and be not satisfied
with the outward appearance, but ask at thy soul, where it is, and how it
is. Retire within, and bring up thy spirit to this work. I am sure you may
observe that any thing goes more smoothly and sweetly with you than the
worship of God, because your mind is more upon any thing else. I fear the
most part of us who endeavour, in some measure, to seek God, have too much
dross of outward formality, and much scum of filthy hypocrisy and guile.
O! pray that the present furnace may purge away this scum. It is the great
ground of God’s present controversy with Scotland, but, alas! the bellows
are like to burn, and we not to be purged. Our scum goes not out from us.
We satisfy ourselves with some outward exercises of religion. Custom
undoes us all, and it was never more undoing than when indignation and
wrath are pursuing it. O! that you would ponder what you lose by it,—both
the sweetness and advantage of godliness, beside the dishonour of God. You
take a formal, negligent, and secure way as the most easy way, and the
most pleasing to your flesh, and I am persuaded you find it the most
difficult way, because you want all the pleasant and sweet refreshment and
soul delights you might have in God, by a serious and diligent minding of
religion. The pleasure and sweetness of God tasted and found, will make
diligence and pains more easy than slothfulness can be to the slothful.
This oils the wheels, and makes them run swiftly, formality makes them
drive heavily. Thus you live always in a complaining humour,—sighing, and
going backward,—because you have some stirring principle of conscience
within which bears witness against you, and your formal sluggish
disposition on the other hand refuses to awake and work. You are perplexed
and tormented between these two. When thy spirit and affections go one
way, and thy body another, when thy conscience drives on the spirit, and
thy affections draw back, it must needs be an unpleasant business.
Lecture XII.
The Unity Of The Divine Essence, And The Trinity Of Persons.
Deut. vi. 4.—“Hear O Israel the Lord our God is one Lord.”—1 John
v. 7. “There are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the
Word, and the Holy Ghost, and these three are one.”
“Great is the mystery of godliness,” 1 Tim. iii. 16. Religion and true
godliness is a bundle of excellent mysteries—of things hid from the world,
yea, from the wise men of the world, (1 Cor. ii. 6.) and not only so, but
secrets in their own nature, the distinct knowledge whereof is not given
to saints in this estate of distance and absence from the Lord. There is
almost nothing in divinity, but it is a mystery in itself, how common
soever it be in the apprehensions of men. For it is men’s overly,(139) and
common and slender apprehensions of them, which make them look so commonly
upon them. There is a depth in them, but you will not know it, till you
search it, and sound it, and the more you sound, you shall find it the
more profound. But there are some mysteries small and some great. There is
a difference amongst them; all are not of one stature, of one measure. The
mystery of Christ’s incarnation and death and resurrection, is one of the
great mysteries of religion, “God manifest in the flesh.” Yet I conceive
there is a greater mystery than it, and of all mysteries in nature or
divinity I know none equal to this,—the Holy Trinity. And it must needs be
greatest of all, and without controversy greatest, because it is the
beginning and end of all,—_fons et finis omnium_. All mysteries have their
rise here, and all of them return hither. This is furthest removed from
the understandings of men,—what God himself is, for himself is infinitely
above any manifestation of himself. God is greater than God manifested in
the flesh, though in that respect he be too great for us to conceive.
There is a natural desire in all men to know, and, if any thing be secret
and wonderful the desire is the more inflamed after the knowledge of it.
The very difficulty or impossibility of attaining it, instead of
restraining the curiosity of man’s spirit, doth rather incense it.
_Nitimur in vetitum_(140) is the fruit, the sad fruit we plucked and eat
from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. If the Lord reveal any
thing plainly in his word to men, that is despised and set at nought,
because it is plain, whereas the most plain truths, which are beyond all
controversy, are the most necessary, and most profitable, for our eternal
salvation. But if there be any secret mystery in the Scriptures, which the
Lord hath only pointed out more obscurely to us, reserving the distinct
and clear understanding of it to himself, (Deut. xxix. 29.),—that is the
apple which our accursed natures will long for, and catch after, though
there be never so much choice of excellent saving fruit in the paradise of
the Scriptures besides. If the ark be covered to keep men from looking
into it, that doth rather provoke the curious spirit of man to pry into
it, 1 Sam. vi. 10. If the Lord show his wonderful glory in the mount, and
charge his people not to come near, lest the glorious presence of God kill
them, he must put rails about it, to keep them back, or else they will be
meddling. Such is the unbridled license of our minds, and the perverse
dispositions of our natures, that where God familiarly invites us to
come,—what he earnestly presseth us to search and know,—that we despise as
trivial and common, and what he compasseth about with a divine darkness of
inaccessible light, and hath removed far from the apprehensions of all
living, that we will needs search into, and wander into those forbidden
compasses, with daring boldness. I conceive this holy and profound mystery
is one of those “secret things” which it belongs to God to know, for who
knoweth the Father but the Son, or the Son but the Father, or who knoweth
the mind of God but the Spirit? Yet the foolish minds of men will not be
satisfied with the believing ignorance of such a mystery, but will needs
inquire into those depths, that they may find satisfaction for their
reason. But, as it happeneth with men who will boldly stare upon the sun,
their eyes are dazzled and darkened with its brightness, or those that
enter into a labyrinth, which they can find no way to come out, but the
further they go into it, the more perplexed it is, and the more intricate,
even so it befalls many unsober and presumptuous spirits, who, not being
satisfied with the simple truth of God, clearly asserting that this is,
endeavour to examine it according to reason, and to solve all the
objections of carnal wit and reason, (which is often “enmity against
God,”) not by the silence of the Scriptures, but by answers framed
according to the several capacities of men. I say, all this is but daring
to behold the infinite glory of God with eyes of flesh, which makes them
darkened in mind, and vanishing in their expressions, while they seek to
behold this inaccessible light, while they enter into an endless labyrinth
of difficulties out of which the thread of reason and disputation can
never extricate them or lead them forth. But the Lord hath showed us “a
more excellent way,” though it may be despicable to men. Man did fall from
blessedness by his curious and wretched aim at some higher happiness and
more wisdom; the Lord hath chosen another way to raise him up again, by
faith rather than knowledge, by believing rather than disputing. Therefore
the great command of the gospel is this, to receive with a ready and
willing mind whatsoever the Lord saith to us, whatsoever it may appear to
sense and reason, to dispute no more, to search no more into the secret of
divine mysteries, as if by searching we could find them out “unto
perfection,” but to believe what is spoken, “till the day break, and the
shadows flee away,” and the darkness of ignorance be wholly dispelled by
the rising of the Sun of righteousness. We are called then to receive this
truth,—That God is one, truly one, and yet there are three in this one,
the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. This, I say, you must believe, because
the wisdom of God saith it, though you know not how it is, or how it can
be. Though it seem a contradiction in reason, a trinity in unity, yet you
must lead your reason captive to the obedience of faith, and silence it
with this one answer, The Lord hath said it. If thou go on to dispute, and
to inquire, “How can these things be?” thou art escaped from under the
power of faith, and art fled into the tents of human wisdom, where thou
mayest learn atheism, but no religion, for “the world by wisdom knew not
God,” 1 Cor. i. 21. And certainly, whoever he be that will not quiet his
conscience, upon the bare word of truth in this particular, but will call
in the help of reason and disputation, how to understand and maintain it,
I think he shall be further from the true knowledge of God and
satisfaction of mind than before. There is no way here, but to flee into
Paul’s sanctuary, “Who art thou, O man, that disputest?” Whenever thou
thinkest within thyself? How may this be, how can one be three, and three
one? then withal let this of Paul sound in thine ears, “Who art thou, O
man, who disputest?” Think that _thou_ art man, think that _he_ is God!
Believing ignorance is much better than rash and presumptuous knowledge.
Ask not a reason of these things, but rather adore and tremble at the
mystery and majesty of them. Christianity is “foolishness” to the world
upon this account, because it is an implicit faith so to speak, given to
God. But there is no fear of being deceived,—though he lead the blind by
a way thou knowest not, yet he cannot lead thee wrong. This holy
simplicity in believing every word of God, and trusting without more
trying by disputation, is the very character of Christianity, and it will
be found only true wisdom. For if any will become wise, he must be a fool
in men’s account. That he may be wise, he must quit his reason to learn
true religion, which indeed is a more excellent and divine reason, neither
is it contrary to it, though it be high above it.
In this place of Moses, you have the unity of God asserted, “The Lord thy
God is one Lord,” and it is indeed engraven on the very hearts of men by
nature, that God is one. For all may know that the common notion and
apprehension of God is, that he is a most perfect Being,—the original of
all things,—most wise, most powerful, and infinite in all perfections. Now
common reason may tell any man that there can be but one thing most
perfect and excellent, there can be but one infinite,—one almighty,—one
beginning and end of all,—one first mover, one first cause, “of whom are
all things, and who is of none.”
Again, in this place of John ye have a testimony of the blessed trinity of
persons, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, in that holy unity of essence. The
great point which John hath in hand is this fundamental of our salvation
that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and Saviour of the world, in whom all
our confidence should be placed, and upon whom we should lean the weight
of our souls. And this he proves by a two-fold testimony—one out of
heaven, another in the earth. There are three bearing witness to this
truth in heaven, “the Father the Word,” (that is, Jesus Christ, the
eternal Son of God, whom this apostle calls the Word of God, or Wisdom of
God, John i. 1) and the Holy Ghost. The Father witnessed to this truth in
an audible voice out of heaven, when Christ was baptized, (Mat. iii. 17)
“This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Here is the Father’s
testimony of the Son when he was baptized which was given very solemnly in
a great congregation of people, and divinely, with great glory and majesty
from heaven, as if the heavens had opened upon him, and the inaccessible
light of God had shined down on him This was confirmed in the
transfiguration, (Mat. xvii. 5) where the Lord gave a glorious evidence—to
the astonishment of the three disciples—how he did account of him—how all
saints and angels must serve him, “him hath God the Father sealed,” saith
John. Indeed, the stamp of divinity, of the divine image in such an
excellent manner upon the man Christ, was a seal set on by God the father,
signifying and confirming his approbation of his well beloved Son and of
the work he was going about. Then the Son himself did give ample testimony
of this. This was the subject of his preaching to the world, “I am the
light and the life of men, he that believeth in me shall be saved.” And
therefore he may be called the Word of God, (John i. 1) and the Wisdom of
God, (Prov. viii.) because he hath revealed unto us the blessed mystery of
wisdom concerning our salvation. He is the very expression and character
of the Father’s person and glory, (Heb. i. 3) in his own person, and he
hath revealed and expressed his Father’s mind, and his own office, so
fully to the world that there should be no more doubt of it. Out of the
mouth of these two witnesses this word might be established, but for
superabundance, behold a third, the Holy Ghost witnessing at his
baptism,—in his resurrection,—after his ascension. The Holy Ghost
signifieth his presence and consent to that work, in the similitude of a
dove, the Holy Ghost testifieth it in the power that raised him from the
dead, the Holy Ghost put it beyond all question when he descended upon the
apostles according to Christ’s promise. For the other three witnesses on
earth, we shall not stay upon it, only know, that the work of the
regeneration of souls by the power of the Word and Spirit signified by
water, the justification of guilty souls signified by the blood of Jesus
Christ, and the testimony of the Spirit in our consciences, bearing
witness to our spirits, is an assured testimony of this, that Jesus
Christ, in whom we believe, is “the Only Begotten of the Father, full of
grace and truth.” The changing, pacifying, and comforting of souls in such
a wonderful manner, cries aloud that he in whom the soul believes is the
true and living God, whom to know is eternal life. But mark, I pray you,
the accuracy of the apostle in the change of speech. “These three”
witnesses on earth, saith he, “agree in one, in giving one common
testimony to the Son of God and the Saviour of sinners.” But as for the
heavenly witnesses—the Father, the Word and the Holy Ghost,—however they
be three after an inconceivable manner, and that they do also agree in one
common testimony to the Mediator of men, yet moreover they are One. They
not only agree in one but are one God,—one simple, undivided, self-being,
infinite Spirit,—holden out to us in three persons, the Father, Son, and
Holy Ghost, to whom be praise and glory.
Lecture XIII.
Of The Unity Of The Godhead And The Trinity Of Persons
Deut. vi. 4.—“Hear, O Israel The Lord our God is one Lord.”—1 John
v. 7 “There are three that bear record in heaven the Father, the
Word, and the Holy Ghost and these three are one.”
“All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for
doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness,”
2 Tim. iii. 16. There is no refuse in it, no simple and plain history, but
it tends to some edification, no profound or deep mystery, but it is
profitable for salvation. Whatsoever secrets there be in the mysteries of
God which are reserved from us, though it be given us but to “know in
part,” and “darkly through a vail,” yet as much is given to us to know as
may make the man of God perfect in every good work. As much is given us to
know as may build us up to eternal salvation. If there were no more use of
these deep mysteries of the holy Trinity, &c. but to silence all flesh,
and restrain the unlimited spirits of men, and keep them within the bounds
of sobriety and faith, it were enough. That great secret would teach as
much by its silence and darkness, as the plainer truths do by speaking out
clearly. O that this great mystery did compose our hearts to some reverend
and awful apprehension of that God we have to do with, and did imprint in
our soul a more feeling sense of our darkness and ignorance. This were
more advantage then all the gain of light, or increase of knowledge that
can come from the search of curiosity. If men would labour to walk in that
light they have attained, rather than curiously inquire after what they
cannot know by inquiry, they should sooner attain more true light. If men
would set about the practice of what they know, without doubt they would
more readily come to a resolution and clearness in doubtful things.
Religion is now turned into questions and school debates. Men begin to
believe nothing but dispute everything, under a pretence of searching for
light and resolution. But for the most part, while men look after light,
they darken themselves, this is the righteous judgment of the Lord upon
the world that doth not receive the truth in love, or walk in the light of
what they have already attained, therefore he gives men up to wander in
their search into the dark dungeons of human wisdom and fancy, and to lose
what they have already. If those things which are “without controversy”
(as the apostle speaks, 1 Tim. iii. 16) were indeed made conscience of,
and embraced in love, and practised, it were beyond all controversy that
the most part of present controversies would cease. But it falls out with
many, as with the dog, that, catching at a shadow in the water, lost the
substance in his teeth, so they, pursuing after new discoveries in
controverted things, and not taking a heart hold and inward grip of the
substantial truths of the gospel, which are beyond all controversy, do
even lose what they have. Thus, even that when they have not is taken from
them, because though they have it in judgment, yet they have it not surely
and solidly in affection, that it may be holden. So, to this present point
if we could learn to adore and admire this holy, holy, holy One,—if we
could in silence and faith sit down and wonder at this mystery,—it would
be more profitable to us, and make way for a clearer manifestation of God,
than if we should search and inquire into all the volumes that are written
upon it, thinking by this means to satisfy our reason. I think there is
more profoundness in the sobriety of faith than in the depths of human
wisdom and learning. When the mystery is such an infinite depth, O but
men’s eloquence and wisdom must be shallow, far too shallow either to find
it out, or unfold it.
But there is yet both more instruction and consolation to be pressed out
of this mystery, and, therefore, if you cannot reach it in itself, O
consider what it concerns us, how we may be edified by it, for this is
true religion! Look upon that place of Moses—what is the great instruction
he draws from this unity of God’s essences? ver. 5 “Thou shalt love the
Lord thy God with all thy heart.” Since God is one, then have no God but
one, and that the true and living God, and this is the very first command
of God, which flows as it were immediately from his absolute oneness and
perfection of being. There is no man but he must have some God, that is
some thing whereupon he placeth his affection most. Every man hath some
one thing he loves and respects beyond all other things, some lord and
master that commands him. Therefore saith Christ “no man can serve two
masters.” Before a man will want a god to love and serve he will make
them, and then worship them. Yea he will make himself, his belly, his
back, his honour, and pleasure, a god, and sacrifice all his affections
and desires and endeavours to these. The natural subordination of man to
God, the relation he hath as a creature to a Creator, is the first and
fundamental relation beyond all respects to himself or other fellow
creatures. This is the proto natural(141) obligation upon the creature,
therefore it should have returned in a direct line to his majesty all its
affections and endeavours. But man’s fall from God hath made a wretched
thraw(142) and crook in the soul that it cannot look any more after him,
but bows downwards towards creatures below it, or bends inwardly towards
itself, and so since the fall man hath turned his heart from the true God,
and set it upon vanity,—upon lying vanities,—upon base dead idols which
can neither help him nor hurt him. “Your hearts are gone a whoring from
God. O that ye would believe it.” None of you will deny but ye have broken
all the commands. Yet such is the brutish ignorance and stupidity of the
most part, that you will not confess that when it comes to particulars,
and especially, if you should be challenged for loving other things more
than God, or having other gods besides the true God, you will instantly
deny it, and that with an asseveration and aversation—“God forbid that I
have another God.” Alas! this shows, that what you confess in the general
is not believed in the heart, but only is like the prating of children,
whom you may learn to say any thing. I beseech you consider, that what you
give your time, pains, thoughts, and affections to, that is your God. You
must give God all your heart, and so retain nothing of your own will if
God be your God. But do ye not know that your care and grief and desire
and love vents another way, towards base things? You know that you have a
will of your own which goeth quite contrary to his holy will in all
things, therefore Satan hath bewitched you, and your hearts deceive you,
when they persuade you that you have had no other God but the true God.
Christianity raises the soul again, and advances it by degrees to this
love of God, from which it had fallen. The soul returns to its first
husband, from whom it went a whoring, and now the stamp of God is so upon
it that it is changed into his image and glory. Having tasted how good
this one self sufficient good is, it gladly and easily divorces from all
other lovers. It renounces former lusts of ignorance, and now begins to
live in another. Love transplants the soul into God, and in him it lives,
and with him it walks. It is true, this is done gradually, there is much
of the heart yet unbroken to this sweet and easy yoke of love, much of the
corrupt nature untamed, unreclaimed, yet so much is gained by the first
conversion of the soul to God, that all is given up to him in affection
and desire. He hath the chief place in the soul. The disposition of the
spirit hath some stamp and impression of his oneness and singularity. My
beloved is one. Though a Christian is not wholly rid of strange lords, yet
the tie of subjection to them is broken. They may often intrude by
violence upon him, but he is in a hostile posture of affection and
endeavour against them. I beseech you, since the Lord is one, and there is
none beside him, O let this be engraven on your hearts, that your inward
affections and outward actions may express that one Lord to be your God,
and none other beside him! It is a great shame and reproach to Christians
that they do not carry the stamp of the first principle of religion upon
their walking. The condition and conversation of many declare how little
account they make of the true God. Why do ye enslave your souls to your
lusts and the service of the flesh, if ye believe in this one God? Why do
ye all things to please yourselves, if this one Lord be your one God? As
for you, the Israel of God, who are called by Jesus Christ to partake with
the commonwealth of Israel in the covenant of promises hear, I beseech
you, this, and let your souls incline to it, and receive it. Your God is
one Lord; have, then, no other lords over your souls and consciences, not
yourselves, not others.
But in the next place: Let us consider to what purpose John leads such
three witnesses, that we may draw some consolation from it. The thing
testified and witnessed unto is the ground work of all a Christian’s hope
and consolation, that Jesus Christ is the eternal Son of God and Saviour
of the world—one, able to save to the uttermost all that put their trust
in him, so that every soul that finds itself lost, and not able to
subsist, nor abide the judgment of God, may repose their confidence in
him, and lay the weight of their eternal welfare upon his death and
sufferings, with assurance to find rest and peace in him to their souls.
He is such an one as faith may triumph in him over the world, and all
things beside. A believer may triumph in his victory, and in the faith of
his victory, over hell and death and the grave may overcome personally,
“For this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith,” ver.
4. And how could a soul conquer by faith, if he in whom it believes were
not “declared to be the Son of God with power?” There is nothing so mean
and weakly as faith in itself. It is a poor despicable thing of itself,
and that it sees, and that it acknowledges. Yea, faith is a very act of
its self denial. It is a renouncing of all help without and within itself,
save only that which is laid on Christ Jesus. Therefore it were the most
unsuitable mean of prevailing and the most insufficient weapon for gaining
the victory, if the object of it were not the strong God the Lord
Almighty, from whom it derives and borrows all its power and virtue,
either to pacify the conscience, or to expiate sin or to overcome the
world. O consider, Christians, where the foundation of your hope is
situated! It is in the divine power of our Saviour. If he who declared so
much love and good will to sinners, by becoming so low, and suffering so
much, have also all power in heaven and earth, if he be not only man near
us, to make for us boldness of access, but God near God to prevail
effectually with God then certainly he is “a sure foundation laid in Zion,
elect and precious.” He is an immovable Rock of Ages, whosoever trusts
their soul to him shall not be ashamed. I am sure that many of you
consider not this, that Jesus Christ, who was in due time born of the
virgin Mary and died for sinners, is the eternal Son of God equal to his
Father in all glory and power. O how would this make the gospel a great
mystery to souls, and the redemption of souls a precious and wonderful
work, if it were considered! Would not souls stand at this anchor
immoveable in temptation, if their faith were pitched on this sure
foundation and their hope cast upon this solid ground! O know your
Redeemer is strong and mighty, and none can pluck you out of his hand, and
himself will cast none out that comes! If the multitude of you believed
this you would not make so little account of the gospel that comes to you,
and make so little of your sins which behoved to be taken away by the
blood of God and could be expiated by no other propitiation, you would not
think it so easy to satisfy God with some words of custom, and some public
services of form, as you do, you would not for all the world deal with God
alone without this Mediator. And being convinced of sin, if you believe
this solidly, that he in whom forgiveness of sin and salvation is preached
is the same Lord God whom you hear in the Old Testament, who gave out the
law, and inspired the prophets,—the Only Begotten of the Father, in a way
infinitely removed from all created capacities,—you could not but find the
Father well satisfied in him and find a sufficient ransom in his death and
doings to pacify God, and to settle your consciences.
But as the thing testified is a matter of great consolation, so the
witnesses testifying to this fundamental of our religion may be a ground
of great encouragement to discouraged souls. It is ordinary, that the
apprehensions of Christians take up Jesus Christ as very lovely, and more
loving than any of the persons of the Godhead, either the Father or the
Holy Ghost. There are some thoughts of estrangedness and distance of the
father, as if the Son did really reconcile and gain him to love us, who
before hated us and upon this mistake, the soul is filled with continual
jealousies and suspicions of the love of God. But observe I beseech you,
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, all of them first agreeing in one
testimony. The Father declares from heaven that he is abundantly well
pleased with his Son, not only because he is his Son, but even in the
undertaking and performing of that work of redemption of sinners. It is
therefore his most serious invitation and peremptory command to all to
hear him, and believe in him, Mat. iii. 17, John iii. 23. Nay, if we speak
more properly, our salvation is not the business of Christ alone, as we
imagine it, but the whole Godhead is interested in it deeply, and so
deeply, that you cannot say who loves it most or likes it most. The Father
is the very fountain of it, his love is the spring of all—“God so loved
the world, that he gave his only begotten Son.” Christ hath not purchased
that eternal love to us, but is rather the gift, the free gift of eternal
love. And therefore, as we have the Son delighting among the sons of men,
Prov. viii. 31, and delighting to be employed and to do his will, Psal.
xl. 8, so we have the Father delighting to send his Son, and taking
pleasure in instructing him and furnishing him for it, Isa. xlii. 1. And
therefore Christ often professed that he was not about his own work, but
the Father’s work who sent him, and that it was not his own will, but his
Father’s he was fulfilling. Therefore we should not look upon the head
spring of our salvation in the Son but rather ascend up to the Father,
whose love and wisdom did frame all this. And thus we may be confident to
come to the Father in the Son, knowing that it was the love of the Father
that sent the Son, though indeed we must come to him only in the Son, in
the name of Christ, and faith of acceptation through a Mediator, not
because the Mediator purchaseth his goodwill, but because his love and
good will only vents in his beloved Son Christ, and therefore he will not
be known or worshipped but in him, in whom he is near sinners, and
reconciling the world to himself. And then the Holy Ghost concurs in this
testimony, and as the Son had the work of purchasing rights and interests
to grace and glory, so the great work of applying all these privileges to
saints and making them actually partakers of the blessings of Christ’s
death, is committed in a special way to the Holy Ghost. “I will send the
Comforter,” &c. So then Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, all agree in one,
that Jesus Christ is a sure refuge for sinners—a plank for ship-broken
men—a firm and sure foundation to build everlasting hopes upon. There is
no party dissenting in all the gospel. The business of the salvation of
lost souls is concluded in this holy council of the Trinity with one
voice. As at first, all of them agreed to make man,—“let us make man,” so
again, they agree to make him again, to restore him to life in the second
Adam. Whoever thou be that wouldst flee to God for mercy, do it in
confidence. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost are ready to welcome
thee,—all of one mind to shut out none, to cast out none. But to speak
properly, it is but one love, one will, one counsel, and purpose in the
Father, Son, and Spirit, for “these Three are One,” and not only agree in
One, they are One, and what one loves or purposes, all love and purpose. I
would conclude this matter with a word of direction how to worship God,
which I cannot express in fitter terms than these of Nazianzen: “I cannot
think upon one, but by and by I am compassed about with the brightness of
three, and I cannot distinguish three but I am suddenly driven back unto
one.” There is great ignorance and mistake of this even among the best
Christians. The grosser sort, when they hear of one God only, think Christ
but some eminent man, and so direct their prayers to God only, excluding
the Son and Holy Ghost, or when they hear of three persons,—the Father,
Son, and Holy Ghost,—they straightway divide their worship, and imagine a
trinity of gods. And I fear, those of us who know most, use not to worship
God as he hath revealed himself,—Father, Son and Holy Ghost, and yet one
God. Our minds are reduced to such a simple unity as we think upon one of
them alone or else distracted and divided into such a plurality, that we
worship in a manner three gods instead of one. It is a great mystery to
keep the right middle way. Learn, I beseech you, so to conceive of God,
and so to acknowledge him, and pray to him as you may do it in the name of
Jesus Christ, that all the persons may have equal honour, and all of them
one honour, that while you consider one God, you may adore that sacred and
blessed Trinity, and while you worship that Holy Trinity, you may
straightway be reduced to an unity. To this wonderful and holy One,
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, be all praise and glory.
Lecture XIV.
Of The Decrees Of God.
Eph. i. 11.—“Who worketh all things after the counsel of his own
will.”—Job xxiii. 13. “He is in one mind, and who can turn him?
and what his soul desireth, even that he doeth.”
Having spoken something before of God, in his nature and being and
properties, we come, in the next place, to consider his glorious majesty,
as he stands in some nearer relation to his creatures, the work of his
hands. For we must conceive the first rise of all things in the world to
be in this self-being, the first conception of them to be in the womb of
God’s everlasting purpose and decree, which, in due time, according to his
appointment, brings forth the child of the creature to the light of actual
existence and being. It is certain that his majesty might have endured for
ever, and possessed himself without any of these things. If he had never
resolved to create any thing without himself, he had been blessed then, as
now, because of his full and absolute self-sufficient perfection. His
purposing to make a world, and his doing of it, adds nothing to his inward
blessedness and contentment. This glorious and holy One encloses within
his own being all imaginable perfections, in an infinite and transcendent
manner, that if you remove all created ones, you diminish nothing, if you
add them all, you increase nothing. Therefore it was in the superabundance
of his perfection, that he resolved to show his glory thus in the world.
It is the creature’s indigence and limited condition which maketh it
needful to go without its own compass, for the happiness of its own being.
Man cannot be happy in loving himself. He is not satisfied with his own
intrinsic perfections, but he must diffuse himself by his affections and
desires and endeavours, and, as it were, walks abroad upon these legs, to
fetch in some supply from the creature or Creator. The creature is
constrained out of some necessity thus to go out of itself, which speaks
much indigence and want within itself. But it is not so with his majesty.
His own glorious Being contents him; his happiness is to know that, and
delight in it, because it comprehends in itself all that is at all
possible, in the most excellent and perfect manner that is
conceivable,—nay, infinitely beyond what can be conceived by any but
himself. So he needs not go without himself to seek love or delight, for
it is all within him, and it cannot be without his own Being, unless it
flow from within him. Therefore ye may find in Scripture what complacency
God hath in himself, and the Father in the Son, and the Son in the Father.
We find, Prov. viii., how the wisdom of God, our Lord Jesus, was the
Father’s delight from all eternity, and the Father again his delight, for
he rejoiced always before him, ver. 30. And this was an all sufficient
possession that one had of another, ver. 22. The love between the Father
and the Son is holden out as the first pattern of all loves and delights,
John xvii. 23, 24. This then flows from the infinite excess of perfection
and exundation of self being, that his majesty is pleased to come without
himself, to manifest his own glory in the works of his hands, to decree
and appoint other things beside himself, and to execute that decree. We
may consider in these words some particulars for our edification.
I. That the Lord hath from eternity purposed within himself and decreed to
manifest his own glory in the making and ruling of the world, that there
is a counsel and purpose of his will which reaches all things, which have
been, are now, or are to be after this. This is clear, for he works all
things “according to the counsel of his own will.”
II. That his mind and purpose is one mind, one counsel. I mean not only
one for ever, that is, perpetual and unchangeable, as the words speak—but
also one for all, that is, with one simple act or resolution of his holy
will he hath determined all these several things, all their times, their
conditions, their circumstances.
III. That whatsoever he hath from all eternity purposed, he in time
practiseth it, and comes to execution and working; so that there is an
exact correspondence betwixt his will and his work, his mind and his hand.
He works according to the counsel of his will, and whatsoever his soul
desireth that he doeth.
IV. That his purpose and performance is infallible,—irresistible by any
created power. Himself will not change it, for “he is in one mind;” and
none else can hinder it, for “who can turn him?” He desireth and he doeth
it, as in the original. There is nothing intervenes between the desire and
the doing, that can hinder the meeting of these two.
The first is the constant doctrine of the Holy Scriptures, of which ye
should consider four things: 1st, That his purpose and decree is most
wise. Therefore Paul cries out upon such a subject, “O the depth of the
riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!” Rom. xi. 33. His will is
always one with wisdom; therefore you have the purpose of his will
mentioned thus, “the counsel of his will;” for his will, as it were, takes
counsel and advice of wisdom, and discerns according to the depth and
riches of his knowledge and understanding. We see among men these are
separated often, and there is nothing in the world so disorderly, so
unruly and uncomely, as when will is divided from wisdom. When men follow
their own will and lusts as a law, against their conscience, that is
monstrous. The understanding and reason are the eyes of the will; if these
be put out, or if a man leave them behind him, he cannot but fall into a
pit. But the purposes of God’s will are depths of wisdom, nay, his very
will is a sufficient rule and law; so that it may be well used of him,
_Stat pro ratione voluntas_,(143) Rom. ix. 11-18. If we consider the
glorious fabric of the world,—the order established in it,—the sweet
harmony it keepeth in all its motions and successions,—O it must be a wise
mind and counsel that contrived it! Man now having the idea of this world
in his mind, might fancy and imagine many other worlds bearing some
proportion and resemblance to this. But if he had never seen nor known
this world, he could never have imagined the thousandth part of this
world; he could in nowise have formed an image in his mind of all those
different kinds of creatures. Creatures must have some example and copy to
look to; but what was his pattern? “Who hath been his counsellor” to teach
him? Rom. xi. 31. Who gave him the first rudiments or principles of that
art? Surely none. He had no pattern given him,—not the least idea of any
of these things furnished him,—but it is absolutely and solely his own
wise contrivance.—2d, This purpose of God is most free and absolute; there
is no cause, no reason, why he hath thus disposed all things, and not
otherwise, as he might have done, but his own good will and pleasure. If
it be so in a matter of deepest concernment, (Rom. ix. 18.) it must be so
also in all other things. We may find, indeed, many inferior causes,—many
peculiar reasons for such and such a way of administration,—many ends and
uses for which they serve,—for there is nothing that his majesty hath
appointed but it is for some use and reason,—yet we must rise above all
these, and ascend into the tower of his most high will and pleasure, which
is founded on a depth of wisdom; and from thence we shall behold all the
order, administration, and use of the creatures to depend. And herein is a
great difference between his majesty’s purpose and ours. You know there is
still something presented under the notion of good and convenient, that
moves our will, and inclines us for its own goodness to seek after it, and
so to fall upon the means to compass it. Therefore, the end which we
propose to ourselves hath its influence upon our purposes, and pleasures
them; so that from it the motion seems to proceed first, and not so much
from within; but there is no created thing can thus determine his majesty.
Himself, his own glory, is the great end which he loves for itself, and
for which he loves other things. But among other things, though there be
many of them ordained one for another’s use, yet his will and pleasure is
the original of that order. He doth not find it, but makes it. You see all
the creatures below are appointed for man, as their immediate and next
end, for his use and service. But was it man’s goodness and perfection
which did move and incline his majesty to this appointment? No, indeed!
but of his own good will be makes such things serve man, that all of them
together may be for his own glory.—3d, The Lord’s decree is the first rise
of all things that are, or have been, or are to come. This is the first
original of them all, to which they must be reduced as their spring and
fountain. All of you may understand that there are many things possible,
which yet actually will never be. The Lord’s power and omnipotency is of a
further extent than his decree and purpose. His power is natural and
essential to his being; his decree is of choice, and voluntary. The Father
could have sent a legion of angels to have delivered his Son; the Son
could have asked them, but neither of them would do it, Matt. xxvi. 53.
The Lord could have raised up children to Abraham out of stones, but he
would not, Matt. iii. 9. His power then comprehends within its reach all
possible things which do not in their own nature and proper conception
imply a contradiction; so that infinite worlds of creatures more perfect
than this,—numbers of angels and men above these,—and creatures in glory
surpassing them again,—are within the compass of the boundless power and
omnipotency of God. But yet for all this it might have fallen out that
nothing should actually and really have been, unless his majesty had of
his own free will decreed what is, or hath been, or is to be. His will
determines his power, and, as it were, puts it in the nearest capacity to
act and exercise itself. Here, then, we must look for the first beginning
of all things that are. They are conceived in the womb of the Lord’s
everlasting purpose, as he speaks, Zeph. ii. 2. The decree is, as it were,
with child of beings, Isa. xliv. 7. It is God’s royal prerogative to
appoint things to come, and none can share with him in it. From whence is
it, I pray you, that of so many worlds which his power could have framed,
this one is brought to light? Is it not because this one was formed, as it
were, in the belly of his eternal counsel and will? From whence is it that
so many men are, and no more—that our Lord Jesus was slain, when the power
of God might have kept him alive,—that those men, Judas, &c. were the
doers of it, when others might have done it? From whence are all those
actions, good or evil, under the sun, which he might have prevented, but
from his good will and pleasure, from his determinate counsel? Acts iv.
28. Can you find the original of these in the creature, why it is thus,
and why not otherwise? Can you conceive why, of all the infinite numbers
of possible beings these are, and no other? And, what hath translated that
number of creatures, which is, from the state of pure possibility to
futurition or actual being, but the decisive vote of God’s everlasting
purpose and counsel? Therefore we should always conceive, that the
creatures, and all their actions, which have, or will have any being in
the world, have first had a being in the womb of God’s eternal counsel,
and that his will and pleasure hath passed upon all things that are and
are not. His counsel has concluded of things that have been, or will be,
that thus they shall be; and his counsel determined of all other things
which are also possible, that they shall never come forth into the light
of the world, but remain in the dark bowels of omnipotency, that so we may
give him the glory of all things that are not, and that are at all.—Then,
4th. We should consider the extent of his decree and counsel; it is passed
upon all things; it is universal, reaching every being or action of the
universe. This is the strain of the whole Scripture. He did not, as some
dream, once create the creatures in a good state, and put them in capacity
henceforth to preserve themselves, or exercise their own virtue and power,
without dependence on him, as an artificer makes an horologe, and orders
it in all things, that it may do its business without him. He is not only
a general original of action and motion, as if he would command a river to
flow by his appointed channels; as if he did only work, and rule the world
by attorneys and ambassadors. That is the weakness and infirmity of
earthly kings, that they must substitute deputies for themselves. But this
King appoints all immediately, and disposes upon all the particular
actions of his creatures, good or evil; and so he is universal absolute
Lord of the creature, of its being and doing. It were a long work to
rehearse what the Scripture speaks of this kind; but O! that ye would read
them oftener, and ponder them better, how there is nothing in this
world,—which may seem to fall out by chance to you, that you know not how
it is to come to pass, and can see no cause nor reason of it,—but it falls
out by the holy will of our blessed Father. Be it of greater or less
moment,—or be it a hair of thy head fallen, or thy head cut off,—the most
casual and contingent thing,—though it surprised the whole world of men
and angels, that they wonder from whence it did proceed,—it is no
surprisal to him, for he not only knew it, but appointed it. The most
certain and necessary thing, according to the course of nature, it hath no
certainty but from his appointment, who hath established such a course in
the creatures, and which he can suspend when he pleaseth. Be it the sin of
men and devils which seems most opposite to his holiness, yet even that
cannot appear in the world of beings, if it were not, in a holy righteous,
and permissive way first conceived in the womb of his eternal counsel, and
if it were not determined by him, for holy and just ends, Acts iv. 28.
The second thing propounded is, that his mind and counsel is one, one and
the same, “yesterday, today, and forever.” Therefore the apostle speaks of
God, that there is no shadow of change or turning in him, James i. 17. He
is not a man that he should lie, neither the son of man that he should
repent; hath he said, and shall he not do it? Numb. xxiii. 19. And shall
he decree, and not execute it? Shall he purpose, and not perform it? “I am
the Lord, I change not,” that is his name, Mal. iii. 6. “The counsel of
the Lord standeth for ever, the thoughts of his heart to all generations,”
Psal. xxxiii. 11. Men change their mind oftener than their garments. Poor
vain man, even in his best estate, is changeableness, and vicissitude
itself, altogether vanity! And this ariseth partly from the imperfection
of his understanding, and his ignorance because he does not understand
what may fall out. There are many things secret and hidden, which if he
discovered, he would not be of that judgment, and many things may fall out
which may give ground of another resolution and partly from the weakness
and perverseness of his will, that cannot he constant in any good thing
and is not so closely united to it as that no fear or terror can separate
from it. But there is no such imperfection in him, neither ignorance nor
weakness. “All things are naked before him,” all their natures, their
circumstances, all events, all emergencies, known to him are they, and
“all his works from the beginning, as perfectly as in the end.” And
therefore he may come to a fixed resolution from all eternity and being
resolved he can see no reason of change because there can nothing appear
after, which he did not perfectly discover from the beginning. Therefore,
whenever ye read in the Scripture of the Lord’s repenting—as Gen. vi. 7,
Jer. xviii. 8.—ye should remember that the Lord speaks in our terms, and
like nurses with their children uses our own dialect, to point out to us
our great ignorance of his majesty, that cannot conceive more honourably
of him nor more distinctly of ourselves. When he changeth all things about
him, he is not changed, for all these changes were at once in his mind,
but when he changeth his outward dispensations he is said to repent of
what he is doing, because we use not to change our manner of dealing,
without some conceived grief, or repentance and change of mind. When a man
goes to build a house, he hath no mind but that it should continue so. He
hath not the least thought of taking it down again, but afterwards it
becomes ruinous, and his estate enlarges, and then he takes a new
resolution, to cast it down to the ground and build a better. Thus it is
with man, according as he varies his work, he changes his mind. But it is
not so with God. All these changes of his works—all the successions of
times, the variation of dealings the alteration of dispensations in all
ages—were at once in his mind, and all before him, so that he never goes
to build a house but he hath in his own mind already determined all the
changes it shall be subject to. When he sets up a throne in a nation, it
is in his mind within such a period to cast it down again, when he lifts
up men in success and prosperity he doth not again change his mind when he
throws them down, for that was in his mind also so that there is no
surprisal of him by any unexpected emergence. Poor man hath many
consultations ere he come to a conclusion, but it is not thus with his
counsel. Of all those strange and new things which fall out in our days,
he hath one thought of them all from eternity. He is in one mind, and none
of all these things have put him off his eternal mind or put him to a new
advisement about his great projects. Not only doth he not change his mind,
but his mind and thought is one of all, and concerning all. Our poor,
narrow, and limited minds, must part their thoughts among many
businesses,—one thought for this, another for that, and one after another.
But with him there is neither succession of counsels and purposes, nor yet
plurality, but, as with one opening of his eye, he beholds all things as
they are, so with one inclination, or nod of his will he hath given a law,
and appointed all things.(144) If we can at one instant, and one look, see
both light and colours, and both the glass and the shadow in it and with
one motion of our wills move towards the end and the means—O, how much
more may he, with one simple undivided act of his good will and pleasure,
pass a determination on all things, in their times and orders and in his
own infinite and glorious Being perceive them all with one look! How much
consolation might redound from this to believing souls! Hath the Lord
appointed you to suffer persecution and tribulation here? Hath he carved
out such a lot unto you in this life? Then withal consider, that his
majesty hath eternal glory wrapt up in the same counsel from which thy
afflictions proceed. Hath he made thy soul to melt before him? Hath he
convinced thee, and made thee to flee unto the city for refuge, and expect
salvation from no other but himself? Then know, that life eternal is in
the bosom of that same purpose which gave thee to believe this; though the
one be born before the other, yet the decree shall certainly bring forth
the other. And for such souls as upon this vain presumption of the
infallibility of God’s purposes, think it needless to give diligence in
religion, know, that it is one mind and purpose that hath linked the end
and the means together as a chain—and therefore, if thou expectest to be
saved according to election, thou must, according to the same counsel,
make thy calling home from sin to God sure.
Thirdly, What thing soever he hath purposed, he in due time applies to the
performance of it, and then the counsel of his will becomes the works of
his hands, and there is an admirable harmony and exact agreement between
these two. All things come out of the womb of his eternal decree, by the
word of his power, even just fashioned and framed as their lineaments and
draughts were proportioned in the decree, nothing failing, nothing
wanting, nothing exceeding. There is nothing in the idea of his mind but
it is expressed in the work of his hands. There are no raw half wishes in
God. Men have such imperfect desires—I would have, or do such a thing if
it were not, &c. He wavers not thus in suspense, but what he wills and
desires, he wills and desires indeed. He intends, doubtless, it shall be
and what he intends he will execute and bring to pass, therefore his will
in due time applies almighty power to fulfil the desire of it, and
almighty power being put to work by his will, it cannot but work all
things “according to the counsel of his will,” and whatsoever his soul
desireth, that he cannot but do, even as he desires seeing he can do it.
If he will do it, and can do it, what hinders him to work and do? Know
then that his commands and precepts to you signifying what is your duty
they do not so much signify what he desires or intends to work, or have
done, as his approbation of such a thing in itself to be your duty, and
therefore though he have revealed his will concerning our duty, though no
obedience follow, yet is not his intention frustrated or disappointed, for
his commands to you say not what is his intention about it, but what is
that which he approves as good, and a duty obliging men. But whatsoever
thing he purposes and intends should be, certainly he will do it, and make
it to be done. If it be a work of his own power alone, himself will do it
alone. If he require the concurrence of creatures to it,—as in all the
works of providence,—then he will effectually apply the creatures to his
work, and not wait in suspense on their determination. If he have
appointed such an end to be attained by such means,—if he have a work to
do by such instruments,—then, without all doubt, he will apply the
instruments when his time comes, and will not wait on their concurrence.
You see now strange things done, you wonder at them how we are brought
down from our excellency,—how our land is laid desolate by strangers,—how
many instruments of the Lord’s work are laid aside, how he lifts up a rod
of indignation against us, and is like to overturn even the foundations of
our land,—all(145) were not in our mind before, but they were in his mind
from eternity, and therefore he is now working it. Believe, then, that
there is not a circumstance of all this business, not one point or jot of
it, but is even as it was framed and carved out of old. His present works
are according to an ancient pattern which he carries in his mind. All the
measures and decrees of your affliction—all the ounces and grain weights
of your cup, were all weighed in the scales of his eternal counsel, the
instruments, the time, the manner, all that is in it. If he change
instruments, that was in his mind, if he change dispensations that was in
his mind also, and seeing ye know by the scriptures that a blessed end is
appointed for the godly, that all things work for their good, that all is
subservient to the church’s welfare, seeing, I say, you know his purpose
is such as the scripture speaks, then believe his performance shall be
exact accordingly, nothing deficient, no joint, no sinew in all his work
of providence, no line in all his book and volume of the creature, but it
was written in that ancient book of his eternal counsel, and first
fashioned in that, Psal. cxxxix. 16.
Then, lastly, His will is irresistible, his counsel shall stand, who can
turn him from his purpose and who can hinder him from performance?
Therefore he attains his end in the highest and most superlative degree of
certainty and infallibility. Himself will not change his own purpose, for
why should he do it? If he change to the better, then it reflects on his
wisdom, if he change to the worse, it reflects both on his wisdom and
goodness. Certainly he can see no cause why he should change it. But as
himself cannot change, so none can hinder his performance, for what power,
think you, shall it be, that may attempt that? Is it the power of men, of
strong men, of high men, of any men? No sure! for their breath is in their
nostrils; they have no power but as he breathes in them. If he keep in his
breath, as it were, they perish. All nations are as nothing before him and
what power hath nothing? Is it devils may do it? No, for they cannot,
though they would; he chains them, he limits them. Is it good angels? They
are powerful indeed, but they neither can nor will resist his will. Let it
be the whole university of the creation,—suppose all their scattered force
and virtue conjoined in one,—yet it is all but finite; it amounts to no
more, if you would eternally add unto it, but all victory and resistance
of this kind must be by a superior power, or at least by an equal.
Therefore we may conclude that there is no impediment or let, that can be
put in his way, nothing can obstruct his purpose; if all the world should
conspire as one man to obstruct the performance of any of his promises and
purposes, they do but rage in vain. Like dogs barking at the moon, they
shall be so far from attaining their purpose, that his majesty shall
disabuse them, so to speak, to his own purpose. He shall apply them quite
contrary to their own mind, to work out the counsel of his mind. Here is
the absolute King only worth the name of a King and Lord, whom all things
in heaven and earth obey at the first nod and beckoning to them! Hills,
seas, mountains, rivers, sun and moon and clouds, men and beasts, angels
and devils,—all of them are acted, moved, and inclined according to his
pleasure, all of them are about his work indeed, as the result of all in
the end shall make it appear, and are servants at his command, going where
he bids go, and coming where he bids come, led by an invisible hand,
though in the meantime they know it not but think they are about their own
business and applaud themselves for a time in it. _Ducunt volentem fata,
nolentem trahunt._(146) Godly men who know his will and love it, are led
by it willingly, for they yield themselves up to his disposal, but wicked
men, who have contrary wills of their own, can gain no more by resisting,
but to be drawn along with it.
Now to what purpose is all this spoken of God’s decrees and purposes,
which he hath called a secret belonging to himself? If his works and
judgments be a great depth, and unsearchable, sure his decrees are far
more unsearchable, for it is the secret and hidden purpose of God, which
is the very depth of his way and judgment. But to what purpose is it all?
I say, not to inquire curiously into the particulars of them, but to
profit by them. The Scripture holds out to us the unchangeableness,
freedom, extent, holiness, and wisdom of them, for our advantage, and if
this advantage be not reaped, we know them in vain. Not to burden your
memory with many particulars, we should labour to draw forth both
instruction and consolation out of them. Instruction, I say, in two things
especially—to submit with reverence and respect to his majesty in all his
works and ways, and to trust in him who knows all his works, and will not
change his mind.
There is nothing wherein I know Christians more deficient than in this
point of submission, which I take to be one of the chiefest and sweetest,
though hardest duties of a Christian. It is hardly to be found among
men,—a thorough compliance of the soul to what his soul desires, a real
subjection of our spirits to his good will and pleasure. There is nothing
so much blessed in scripture as waiting on him, as yielding to him to be
disposed upon,—“Blessed are all they that wait on him.” Pride is the
greatest opposite, and he opposes himself most to that, for it is in its
own nature most derogatory to the highness and majesty of God, which is
his very glory. Therefore submission is most acceptable to him, when the
soul yields itself and its will to him. He condescends far more to it, he
cannot be an enemy to such a soul. Submission to his majesty’s pleasure,
is the very bowing down of the soul willingly to any thing he does or
commands,—whatever yoke he puts on, of duty or suffering, to take it on
willingly, without answering again, which is the great sin condemned in
servants, to put the mouth in the dust, and to keep silence, because he
doth it—“I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because thou didst it.”
_There_ is submission indeed,—silence of mind and mouth—a restraint put
upon the spirit to think nothing grudgingly of him for any thing he doth.
It is certainly the greatest fault of Christians and ground of many more,
that ye do not look to God, but to creatures in any thing that befalls
you, therefore there are so frequent risings of spirits against his yoke,
frequent spurnings against it, as Ephraim, unaccustomed with the yoke. So
do ye, and this it is only makes it heavy and troublesome. If there were
no more reason for it but your own gain, it is the only way to peace and
quietness. _Durum, sed levius fit patientia, quicquid corrigere est
nefas._(147) Your impatience cannot help you, but hurt you, it is the very
yoke of your yoke, but quiet and silent stooping makes it easy in itself,
and brings in more help beside, even divine help. Learn this, I beseech
you, to get your own wills abandoned, and your spirits subdued to God,
both in the point of duty and dispensation. If duties commanded cross thy
spirit—as certainly the reality and exercise of godliness must be
unpleasant to any nature—know what thou art called to, to quiet thy own
will to him, to give up thyself to his pleasure singly, without so much
respect to thy own pleasure or gain. Learn to obey him simply because he
commands, though no profit redound to thee, and by this means thou shalt
in due time have more sweet peace and real gain, though thou intendedst it
not. And in case any dispensation cross thy mind, let not thy mind rise up
against it. Do not fall out with Providence, but commit thy way wholly to
him, and let him do what he pleases in that. Be thou minding thy duty. Be
not anxious in that, but be diligent in this, and thou shalt be the only
gainer by it, besides, the honour redounds to him.
Then I would exhort you, from this ground, to trust in him. Seeing he
alone is the absolute Sovereign Lord of all things,—seeing he has passed a
determination upon all things, and accordingly they must be,—and seeing
none can turn him from his way,—O then, Christians, learn to commit
yourselves to him in all things, both for this life and the life to come!
Why are ye so vain and foolish as to depend and hang upon poor, vain,
depending creatures? Why do ye not forsake yourselves? Why do ye not
forsake all other things as empty shadows? Are not all created powers,
habits, gifts, graces, strength, riches, &c., like the idols in comparison
of him, who can neither do good, neither can they do ill? Cursed is he
“that trusteth in man,” Jer. xvii. 5. There needs no other curse than the
very disappointment you shall meet withal. Consider, I beseech you, that
our God can do all things, whatever he pleases, in heaven and earth, and
that none can obstruct his pleasure. Blessed is that soul for whom the
counsel of his will is engaged. And it is engaged for all that trust in
him. He can accomplish his good pleasure in thy behalf, either without or
against means; all impediments and thorns set in his way, he can burn them
up. You who are heirs of the promises, O know your privilege! What his
soul desireth, he doth even that, and what he hath seriously promised to
you, he desires. If you ask, who are heirs of the promises? I would
answer, simply those and those only, who do own them and challenge them,
and cling to them for their life and salvation, those who seek the
inheritance only by the promise, and whose soul desires them and embraces
them. O, if you would observe how unlike ye are to God! Ye change often,
ye turn often out of the way, but that were not so ill if ye did not
imagine him to be like yourselves, and it is unbelief which makes him like
to yourselves,—when your frame and tender disposition changes,—when
presence and access to God is removed. That is wrong, it speaks out a
mortal creature indeed, but if it be so, O do no more wrong! Do not, by
your suspicions and jealousies and questionings of him, imagine that he is
like unto you and changed also. That is a double wrong and dishonour to
his majesty. Hath he not said, “I am the Lord, and change not.” “He is in
one mind, who can turn him?” How comes it then, that ye doubt of his love
as oft as ye change? When ye are in a good temper, ye think he loves you;
when it is not so ye cannot believe but he is angry, and hates you. Is not
this to speak quite contrary to the word, that he is a God that
changes—that he is not in one mind, but now in one, and then in another,
as oft as the inconstant wind of a soul’s self pleasing humour turns
about? Here is your rest and confidence, if you will be established, not
within yourselves,—not upon marks and signs within you, which ebb and flow
as the sea, and change as the moon,—but, upon his unchangeable nature and
faithful promises. This we desire to hold out to you all, as one ground
for all. You would every one have some particular ground in your own
disposition and condition, and think it general doctrine only which layeth
it not home so, but believe it, I know no ground of real soul
establishment, but general truths and principles common to you all, and
our business is not to lay any other foundation,—or more foundations,
according to your different conditions,—but to lay this one foundation,
Christ and God unchangeable, and to exhort every one of you to make that
general foundation your own in particular, by leaning to it, and building
upon it, and clinging to it. All other are sandy and ruinous.
Let us now, in this sad time, press consolation from this. The Lord’s hand
is in all this. It is immediate in every dispensation, and it is only
carnal mindedness that cannot see him stretching out his hand to every
man, with his own portion of affliction. Know this one thing, that God is
in one mind, for all these many ways and judgments, he is in one mind,—to
gather the saints, to build up the Church, the body of Christ. This is his
end—all other businesses are in the by,(148) and subservient to this.
Therefore he will change it as he pleases, but his great purpose of good
to his people, all the world cannot hinder. Let us then establish our
souls in this consideration, all is clear above, albeit cloudy below, all
is calm in heaven, albeit tempestuous here upon earth. There is no
confusion, no disorder in his mind. Though we think the world out of
course, and that all things reel about with confusion, he hath one mind in
it, and who can turn him? And that mind is good to them that trust in him
and therefore, who can turn away our good? Let men consult and imagine
what they please,—let them pass votes and decrees what to do with his
people,—yet it is all to no purpose, for there is a counsel above, an
older counsel which must stand and take place in all generations. If men’s
conclusions be not according to the counsel of his will, they are but
imaginary dreams, like the fancies of a distracted person, who imagining
himself a king, sits down on the throne, and gives out decrees and
ordinances. May not he who sits in heaven laugh at the foolishness and
madness of men who act in all things as if they had no dependence on him,
and go about their business as if it were not contrived already? It is a
ridiculous thing for men to order their business, and settle their own
conclusions, without once minding One above them, who hath not only a
negative, but an affirmative vote in all things. It is true that God, in
his deep wisdom, hath kept up his particular purposes secret, that men may
walk according to an appointed rule, and use all means for compassing
their intended ends, and therefore it is well said _Prudens futuri
temporis exitum caliginosa nocte premit Deus_. But yet withal we should
mind that of James, “if the Lord will, and go about all things even the
most probable, with submission to his will and pleasure.” And therefore,
when men go without their bounds either in fear of danger, or joy
conceived in successes,—_ridetque, si mortalis ultra fas trepidet_,
&c.,—Excess of fear, excess of hope, excess of joy in these outward
things, is, as it were ridiculous to him, who hath all these things
appointed with him. To him be praise and glory.
Lecture XV.
Of Predestination
Eph. i. 11.—“In whom also we have obtained an inheritance, being
predestinated according to the purpose of him who worketh all
things after the counsel of his own will.”—Rom. ix. 22, 23.—“What
if God, willing to show his wrath and to make his power known,
endured with much long-suffering the vessels of wrath fitted to
destruction, and that he might make known the riches of his glory
on the vessels of mercy which he had afore prepared unto glory.”
In the creation of the world, it pleased the Lord, after all things were
framed and disposed, to make one creature to rule over all, and to him he
gave the most excellent nature, and privileges beyond the rest, so that it
may appear that he had made all things for man and man immediately for his
own glory. As man was the chief of the works of his hands so we may,
according to the Scriptures, conceive that he was chiefly minded in the
counsels of his heart. And that, as in the execution of his purpose in
creating the world, man had the pre-eminence assigned unto him, and all
seemed subordinate unto him, so in the Lord’s purposes concerning the
world, his purpose about man has the pre-eminence. He, indeed, has
resolved to declare the glory of his name in this world, therefore the
heavens and the firmament are made preachers of that glory, Psal. xix. 1,
2, &c. But in a special manner, his majesty’s glorious name is manifested
in man, and about man. He hath set man, as it were, in the centre or midst
of the creation, that all the creatures might direct or bring in their
praises unto him, to be offered up in his and their name, to the Lord
their Maker, by him, as the common mouth of the world, and the Lord hath
chosen this creature above all the creatures, for the more solemn and
glorious declaration of himself in his special properties. Therefore, we
should gather our thoughts in this business, to hear from the Lord what
his thoughts are towards us, for, certainly, the right understanding of
his everlasting counsel touching the eternal state of man, is of singular
virtue to conform us to the praise of his name, and establish us in faith
and confidence. Predestination is a mystery, indeed, into which we should
not curiously and boldly inquire beyond what is revealed, for then a soul
must needs lose itself in that depth of wisdom, and perish in the search
of unsearchableness. And thus the word speaks in Scripture of this
subject, intimating to us, that it is rather to be admired than conceived,
and that there ought to be some ignorance of these secrets, which,
conjoined with faith and reverence, is more learned than any curious
knowledge. But withal, we must open our eyes upon so much light as God
reveals of these secrets, knowing that the light of the word is a saving,
refreshing light, not confounding, as is his inaccessible light of secret
glory. As far as it pleaseth his majesty to open his mouth, let us not
close our ears, but open them also to his instruction, knowing, that as he
will withhold no necessary thing for our salvation, so he will reveal
nothing but what is profitable. This is the best bond of sobriety and
humble wisdom, to learn what he teacheth us, but when he makes an end of
teaching, to desire no more learning. It is humility to seek no more, and
it is true wisdom to be content with no less.
There is much weakness in our conceiving of divine things. We shape and
form them in our minds according to a mould of our own experience or
invention, and cannot conceive of them as they are in themselves. If we
should speak properly, there are not counsels and purposes in God, but one
entire counsel and resolution concerning all thing which are in time, by
which he hath disposed all in their several times, seasons, conditions,
and orders. But because we have many thoughts, about many things, so we
cannot well conceive of God but in likeness to ourselves, and therefore,
the Scripture, condescending to our weakness, speaks so. “How many are thy
precious thoughts towards me,” saith David, and yet indeed, there is but
one thought of him and us and all, which one thought is of so much virtue,
that it is equivalent to an infinite number of thoughts concerning
infinite objects. The Lord hath from everlasting conceived one purpose of
manifesting his own glory in such several ways and this is the head spring
of all that befalls creatures, men, and angels. But because, in the
execution of this purpose there is a certain order and succession, and
variety, therefore men do ordinarily fancy such or such a frame and order
in the Lord’s mind and purpose. And as the astronomers do cut and carve in
their imagination cycles, orbs, and epicycles in the heavens, because of
the various and different appearances and motions of stars in them,
whereas it may be, really, there is but one celestial body in which all
these various lights and motions do appear, so do men fancy unto
themselves an order in the Lord’s decree according to the phenomena or
appearances of his works in the world; whereas it is one purpose and
decree, which in its infinite compass comprehends all these vanities and
orders together. This much we may indeed lawfully conceive of his decree,
that there is an exact correspondence and suitableness between his
majesty’s purpose and execution, and that he is a wise Lord, “wonderful in
counsel and excellent in working,” having some great plot and design
before his eyes, which he intends to effect, and which is, as it were, the
great light and sun of this firmament, unto which, by that same wonderful
counsel, all other things are subordinate, and so in the working it shall
appear exactly as his counsel did delineate and contrive it.
There is no man so empty or shallow, but he hath some great design and
purpose which he chiefly aims at; shall we not then conceive, that the
Lord, who instructs every man to this discretion, and teaches him, (Isa.
xxviii. 26,) is himself wise in his counsel, and hath some grand project
before him in all this fabric of the world, and the upholding of it since
it was made? Certainly he hath. And if you ask what it is, the wise man
will teach you in general—“He made all things for himself, yea, even the
wicked for the day of evil,” Prov. xvi. 4. Here, then, is his great design
and purpose—to glorify himself,—to manifest his own name to men and
angels. Now, his name comprehends wisdom, goodness, power, mercy, and
justice. The first three he declares in all the works of his hands. All
are well done and wisely done. The excellency of the work shows the
wonderful counsellor and the wise contriver. The goodness of any creature
in its kind, declares the inexhausted spring of a self-being from whom it
proceeds, and the bringing all these out of nothing, and upholding them,
is a glorious declaration of his power. But yet, in all the works of his
hands, there is nothing found to manifest his glorious mercy and justice,
upon which are the flower and garland of his attributes, and unto which
wisdom and power seem to be subservient. Therefore his majesty, in that
one entire purpose of his own glory, resolves to manifest his wrath and
his mercy upon men and angels, subjects capable of it, which two
attributes are as the poles about which all the wheels of election and
reprobation turn as you see in that place, Rom. ix. 22, 23. Let this then
be established as the end of all his works, as it is designed in his
counsel, and nothing else. It is not the creature, nor any thing in the
creature, which is first in his mind, but himself, and therefore of him,
and for him, are all things. Here they have their rise, and thither they
return, even to the ocean of God’s eternal glory, from whence all did
spring.
The right establishing of this will help us to conceive aright of his
counsel of predestination. It is a common cavil of carnal reason: how can
the Lord reject so many persons, and fore-ordain them to destruction? It
seems most contrary to his goodness and wisdom, to have such an end of
eternal predestination before him, in the creating of so many, to make men
for nothing, but to damn them? Here carnal reason, which is enmity to God,
triumphs, but consider, I say, that this is not the Lord’s end and chief
design, to destroy men. Even as it is not his majesty’s first look, or
furthest reach, to give unto others eternal life, so it is not his prime
intent to sink them into eternal death, as if that were his pleasure and
delight. No, indeed! Neither is the creature’s happiness nor its misery
that which first moves him, or is most desired of him, but himself only,
and he cannot move out of himself to any business, but he must return it
unto himself. Therefore the wise preacher expresses it well, “He made all
for himself, even the wicked for the day of evil.” It was not his great
end of creating wicked men to damn them, or creating righteous men to save
them, but both are for a further and higher end,—for himself and his own
glory.
All seem to agree about this, that the great end of all the Lord’s
counsels and decrees is his own glory, to be manifested on men and angels,
and that this must be first in his mind; not that there is first or last
with him, but to speak after the manner of men. If he had many thoughts,
as we have, this would be his first thought and in this one purpose this
end is chiefly aimed at, and all other things are by the Lord’s counsel
subordinate to this, as means to compass that. But as concerning the order
of these means, and consequently of his majesty’s purpose about them, men,
by examining his majesty according to the creature’s rules, or according
to sense, bring him down far below his own infinite greatness. Some
conceive that that was first, as it were, in his mind which is first done.
Looking upon the execution of his purpose in the works of his power, they
imagine, that as he first created man righteous, so this was his first
thought concerning man, to create man for the glory of his goodness and
power, without any particular determination as yet of his end. And I
conceive, this is the thought of the multitude of people. They think God
was disappointed in his work, when they hear he created such a glorious
creature that is now become so miserable. They cannot believe that his
majesty had all this sin and misery determined with him when he purposed
to create him, but look upon the emergent of man’s fall into sin and
misery as a surprisal of his majesty,—as if he had meant another thing in
creating him, and so was, upon this occasion of man’s sin, driven to a new
consultation about the helping of the business, and making the best out of
it that might be. Thus “through wisdom, the world knows not God.” They
think God altogether like themselves, and so liken him to the builder of a
house, who set nothing before him in doing so, but to build it after that
manner for his own ends, but then being surprised with the fall and ruin
of it, takes a new advisement, and builds it up again upon another and a
surer foundation. But because they cannot say, that God takes any new
advisements in time, but must confess that all his counsels are
everlasting concerning all the works of his hands, therefore they bring in
foreknowledge to smooth their irreligious conceit of God, as if the Lord,
upon his purpose of creating man, had foreseen what should befall him, and
so purposed to permit it to be so, that out of it he might erect some
glorious fabric of mercy and justice upon the ruins of man. And that
little or nothing may be left to the absolute sovereign will of God, to
which the Scripture ascribes all things, they must again imagine, that
upon his purpose of sending Christ to save sinners, he is yet undetermined
about the particular end of particular men, but watches on the tower of
foreknowledge to espy what they will do, whether men will believe on his
Son or not, whether they will persevere in faith or not, and according to
his observation of their doings, so he applies his own will to carve out
their reward or portion of life or death. These are even the thoughts
which are inbred in your breasts by nature. That which the learned call
Arminianism is nothing else but the carnal reason of men’s hearts, which
is enmity to God. It is that very disputation which Paul in this chapter
exclaims against, “Who art thou, O man, that disputest?”
But certainly, all this contrivance is nothing beseeming the wisdom or
sovereignty of God, but reflects upon both: upon his wisdom, that he
should have thoughts of creating the most noble of his creatures, and yet
be in suspense about the end of the creature, and have that in uncertainty
what way his glory shall indeed be manifested by it. Is it not the first
and chief thought of every wise man, what he intends and aims at in his
work, and according to the measure and reach of his wisdom, so he reaches
further in his end and purpose? Shall we then conceive the only wise God
so far to have mistaken himself, as to do that which no wise man would do?
He who is of such an infinite reach of wisdom and understanding, to fall
upon the thoughts of making such an excellent creature, and yet to lie in
suspense within himself about the eternal estate of it, and to be in a
waiting posture what way his glory should be manifested by it; whether in
a way of simple goodness only, or in a way of justice, or in a way of
mercy, till he should foresee, off the tower of foreknowledge, how that
creature should behave itself. Our text speaks not thus; for in the place,
(Eph. i.) we have the Lord, in his eternal purpose, carving out to such
and such particular persons “an inheritance,” and “adoption of children,”
for that great end “of the glory of his grace,” ver. 11, and 5, 6. And
predestination falls out, not according to our carriage, but according to
the purpose of him who “works all things” that he works, “after the
counsel of his own will,” without consulting our will. And if you inquire
what are these “all things,” certainly we must take it simply for all
things that are at all, or have any real being: his power, his hand must
be in it, and that according to his own counsel, without respect had to
the creature’s will, according to his own good pleasure, ver. 5, 11. He
had no sooner a thought of working and making man, but this purpose was in
it, to make such men to the praise of his glorious grace, and to
fore-ordain them to an inheritance, and others to make or fit them for
destruction, as the text, Rom. ix. 22, bears. Herein the great and
unsearchable wisdom of God appears to be a great depth, that when he hath
a thought of making such a vessel, he hath this purpose in the bosom of
it, what use it shall be for, whether for honour or dishonour; and
accordingly, in his counsel, he prepares it either to glory or
destruction, and in time makes it fit for its use, either by sin or grace.
Here is the depth that cannot be sounded by mortal men. “O the depth of
the riches both of his wisdom and knowledge! How unsearchable are his
judgments, and his ways past finding out!” The whole tenor of the
Scriptures shows that his majesty was not surprised and taken at unawares
by Adam’s fall, but that it fell out according to the determinate counsel
of his will. If he knew it, and suffered it to be, certainly he permitted
it, because he willed it should be so; and why may he not determine that
in his holy counsel which his wisdom can disabuse to the most glorious end
that can be? Why may not he decree such a fall, who out of man’s ruins can
erect such a glorious throne for his grace and justice to triumph into? It
is more for the glory of his infinite wisdom, to bring good, and such a
good out of evil, than only to permit that good should be.
Then such doctrine is repugnant to the Lord’s absolute power and
sovereignty, which is Paul’s sanctuary, whither he flies unto as a sure
refuge, from the stroke or blast of carnal reason. “Hath not the potter
power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel to honour, and
another to dishonour?” ver. 21. Hath not the Lord more absolute dominion
over us, than the potter hath over the clay, for the potter made not the
clay, but the Lord hath made us of nothing? so that simply and absolutely
we are his, and not our own, and so he hath an absolute right to make any
use of us he pleases, without consulting our wills and deservings. Can any
man quarrel him for preparing him to destruction, seeing he owes nothing
to any man, but may do with his own what he pleases? What if God, willing
to make known his power, and justice, and wrath, have fitted and prepared
some vessels for destruction, with which in time he bears much, and
forbears long, using much patience towards them, ver. 22. Can any man
challenge him for it? And what if God, willing to make known the riches of
his grace, have prepared some vessels to glory, shall any man’s eye be
evil because he is good? ver. 23. Shall man be left to be his own
disposer, and the shaper of his own fortune? Sure it was not so with Esau
and Jacob: they were alike in the womb. If there was any prerogative, Esau
the eldest had it,—they had done neither good nor evil. What difference
was then between them to cast the balance of his will? Can you imagine
any? Indeed carnal reason will say that God foreknew what they would do,
and so he chose or rejected them. But, why doth not the apostle answer
thereunto that objection of unrighteousness in God? ver. 14. It had been
ready and plain. But rather he opposes the will and calling of God, to all
works past or to come. He gives no answer but this, “he will have mercy
because he will have mercy;” that is the supreme rule of righteousness,
and hitherto must we flee, as the surest anchor of our hope and stability.
Our salvation depends not on our willing or running, on our resolving or
doing, but upon this primitive good pleasure and will of God, on which
hangs our willing and running and obtaining. It is certainly an unorderly
order, to flee unto that in men, for the cause of God’s eternal counsels,
which only flows from his eternal counsel, Eph. i. 4. Hath he chosen us
because he did foreknow that we would be holy, and without blame, as men
think? Or hath he not rather chosen us to be holy and without blame? He
cannot behold any good or evil in the creatures, till his will pass a
sentence upon it; for from whence should it come?
Seeing then this order and contrivance of God’s purpose is but feigned, it
seems to some that the very contrary method were more suitable even to the
rules of wisdom. You know what is first in men’s intention is last in
execution. The end is first in their mind, then the means to compass that
end. But in practice again, men fall first upon the means, and by them
come at length to attain their end; therefore those who would have that
first, as it were, in God’s mind, which he doth first, do even cross
common rules of reason in human affairs. It would seem then, say some,
that this method might do well; that what is last in his execution, was
first in his purpose, and by him intended as the end of what he doth
first, and so some do rank his decrees; that he had first a thought of
glorifying man, and to attain this end he purposed to give him grace, and
for this purpose to suffer him to fall, and for all to create him. But we
must not look thus upon it either. It were a foolish and ridiculous
counsel, unbeseeming the poor wisdom of man, to purpose the glorifying of
man whom he had not yet determined to create. Therefore we should always
have it in our mind that the great end and project of all is the glory of
his mercy and justice upon men; and this we may conceive is first in
order, neither men’s life nor death, but God’s glory to be manifested upon
men. Now, to attain this glorious end, with one inclination or
determination of his will, not to be distinguished or severed, he
condescends upon all that is done in time, as one complete and entire mean
of glorifying himself, so that one of them is not before another in his
mind, but altogether. For attaining this, he purposes to create man. He
ordains the fall of all men into a state of sin and misery; and some of
those, upon whom he had resolved to show his mercy, he gives them to
Christ to be redeemed, and restored by grace; others, he fore-ordains them
to destruction; and all this at once, without any such order as we
imagine. Now though he intend all this at once and together, yet it doth
not hence follow that all these must be executed together. As when a man
intends to build a house for his own accommodation, there are many things
in the house upon which he hath not several purposes; but yet they must be
severally, and in some order done. First the foundation laid; then the
walls raised; then the roof put on; yet he did not intend the foundation
to be for the walls, or the walls for the roof, but altogether for
himself. Even so the Lord purposes to glorify his mercy and justice upon a
certain number of persons, and for this end to give them a being, to
govern their falling into misery, to raise some out of it by a Mediator,
and to leave some into it to destruction; and all this as one entire mean
to illustrate his glorious mercy and justice. But these things themselves
must be done not all at once, but one before another, either as their own
nature requires, or as he pleases. The very nature of the thing requires
that man be created before he sin; that he sin and fall before a Mediator
suffer for his sin; that he have a being before he have a glorious being;
and that he have a sinful and miserable being, before he have this
glorious and gracious being which may manifest the grace and mercy of God.
But it is the pleasure of the Lord that determines in what time and order
Christ shall suffer, either before or after the conversion of sinners, or
whether sinners shall be presently instated in glory, and perfectly
delivered from all sin at their first conversion, or only in part during
this life.
Seeing then this was his majesty’s purpose, to make so many vessels of
honour, upon whom he might glorify the riches of his grace and mercy; and
so many “vessels of wrath,” upon whom he might show the power of his
anger; you may think what needed all this business of man’s redemption.
Might not God have either preserved so many as he had appointed to glory
from falling into sin and misery; or at least have freely pardoned their
sin without any satisfaction; and out of the exceeding riches of his mercy
and power, have as well not imputed sin to them at all, as imputed their
sins to Christ, who was not guilty? What needed his giving so many to the
Son, and the Son’s receiving them? What needed these mysteries of
incarnation, of redemption, seeing he might have done all this simply
without so much pains and expense? Why did he choose this way? Indeed,
that is the wonder; and if there were no more end for it, but to confound
mortality that dare ask him what he doth, it is enough. Should he be
called down to the bar of human reason, to give an account of his matters?
“Who hath known the mind of the Lord, or, being his counsellor, hath
taught him,” that is in the depths of his unsearchable understanding, that
he chose to go this round, and to compass his end by such a strange
circuit of means, when he might have done it simply and directly without
so much pains? Yet it is not so hidden, but he hath revealed as much as
may satisfy or silence all flesh. For we must consider, that his great
project is not simply to manifest the glory of his goodness, but of his
gracious and merciful goodness, the most tender and excellent of all; and
therefore man must be miserable, sinful, and vile, that the riches of his
grace may appear in choosing and saving such persons. But that it may
appear also how excellent he could make man, and how vain all created
perfections are, being left to themselves, therefore he first made man
righteous, and being fallen into sin and misery, he might straightway have
restored him without more ado. But his purpose was to give an exact
demonstration of mercy, tempered and mixed with justice; and therefore he
finds out the satisfaction in his eternal counsel, “I have found a
ransom.” And so he chooses Jesus Christ to be the head of these chosen
souls, in whom they might be again restored unto eternal life. And these
souls, he, in his everlasting purpose, gives over to the Son to be
redeemed, and these the Son receives. And thus the glory of mercy and
justice shines most brightly, yea, more brightly, than if he had at first
pardoned. O how doth his love and mercy appear, that he will transfer our
sins upon his holy Son, and accept that redemption for us; and his
justice, that a redemption and price he must have, even from his Son, when
once he comes in the stead of sinners! And in this point do the songs of
eternity concentre.
Lecture XVI.
Of Predestination
Rom. ix. 22.—“What if God, willing to show his wrath, and to make
his power known, endured with much long-suffering the vessels of
wrath fitted to destruction.” Eph. i. 11.—“In whom also we have
obtained an inheritance, being predestinated according to the
purpose of him who worketh all things after the counsel of his own
will.”
We are now upon a high subject; high indeed for an eminent apostle, much
more above our reach. The very consideration of God’s infinite wisdom
might alone suffice to restrain our limited thoughts, and serve to sober
our minds with the challenge of our own ignorance and darkness; yet the
vain and wicked mind of man will needs quarrel with God, and enter the
lists of disputation with him, about his righteousness and wisdom in the
counsel of election and reprobation: “But, O man, who art thou that
repliest against God, or disputest?” ver. 20. This is a thing not to be
disputed, but believed; and if ye will believe no more than ye can
comprehend by sense or reason, then ye give his majesty no more credit
than to weak mortal man. Whatever secret thoughts do rise up in thy heart
when thou hearest of God’s foreordaining men to eternal life, without
previous foresight or consideration of their doings, and preparing men to
eternal wrath, for the praise of his justice, without previous
consideration of their deservings, and passing a definitive sentence upon
the end of all men, before they do either good or evil; whenever any
secret surmises rise in thy heart against this, learn to answer thus;
enter not the lists of disputation with corrupt reason, but put in this
bridle of the fear of God’s greatness, and the consciousness of thy own
baseness, and labour to restrain thy undaunted and wild mind by it. Ponder
that well, who thou art who disputest; who God is, against whom thou
disputest—and if thou have spoken once, thou wilt speak no more—what thou
art, who is as clay formed out of nothing; what he is, who is the former;
and hath not the potter power over the clay? Consider but how great
wickedness it is so much as to question him, or ask an account of his
matters. After you have found his will to be the cause of all things, then
to inquire farther into a cause of his will, which is alone the self-rule
of righteousness, is to seek something above his will, and to reduce his
majesty into the order of creatures. It is most abominable usurpation and
sacrilege, for it both robs him of his royal prerogative, and instates the
base footstool into his throne; but know, that certainly God will overcome
when he is judged, Psal. i. 6. If thou judge him, he will condemn thee; if
thou oppugn his absolute and holy decrees, he will hold thee fast bound by
them to thy condemnation; he needs no other defence but to call out thy
own conscience against thee, and bind thee over to destruction. Therefore,
as one saith well, “Let the rashness of men be restrained from seeking
that which is not, lest peradventure they find that which is.” Seek not a
reason of his purposes, lest peradventure thou find thy own death and
damnation infolded in them.
Paul mentions two objections of carnal and fleshly wisdom against this
doctrine of election and reprobation, which indeed contain the sum of all
that is vented and invented even to this day, to defile the spotless truth
of God. All the whisperings of men tend to one of these two,—either to
justify themselves, or to accuse God of unrighteousness; and shall any do
it and be guiltless? I confess, some oppose this doctrine, not so much out
of an intention of accusing God, as out of a preposterous and ignorant
zeal for God; even as Job’s friends did speak much for God. Nay, but it
was not well spoken, they did but speak wickedly for him. Some speak much
to the defence of his righteousness and holiness, and, under pretence of
that plea, make it inconsistent with these to fore-ordain to life or death
without the foresight of their carriage; but shall they speak wickedly for
God, or will he accept their person? He who looks into the secrets of the
heart, knows the rise and bottom of such defences and apologies for his
holiness to be partly self-love, partly narrow and limited thoughts of
him, drawing him down to the determinations of his own greatest enemy,
carnal reason. Since men will ascribe to him no righteousness, but such an
one of their own shaping, and conformed to their own model, do they not
indeed rob him of his holiness and righteousness?
I find two or three objections which may be reduced to this head. First,
it seems unrighteousness with God, to predestinate men to eternal death,
without their own evil deserving, or any forethought of it,—that before
any man had a being, God should have been in his counsel fitting so many
to destruction. Is it not a strange mocking of the creatures, to punish
them for that sin and corruption, unto which by his eternal counsel they
were fore-ordained? This is even that which Paul objects to himself, “Is
there unrighteousness with God?” Is it not unrighteousness to hate Esau
before he deserves it? Is he not unrighteous, to adjudge him to death
before he do evil? ver. 14. Let Paul answer for us, “God forbid!” Why,
there needs no more answer, but all thoughts or words which may in the
least reflect upon his holiness are abomination. Though we could not tell
how it is righteous and holy with him to do it, yet this we must hold,
that it is. It is his own property to comprehend the reason of his
counsels; it is our duty to believe what he reveals of them, without
farther inquiry. He tells us, that thus it is clearly in this chapter;
this far then we must believe. He tells us not how it is; then farther we
should not desire to learn. God, in keeping silence of that, may put us to
silence, and make us conceive that there is a depth to be admired, not
sounded. Yet he goeth a little farther, and indeed as high as can be, to
God’s will—“He hath mercy on whom he will, and whom he will he hardeneth.”
Now, farther he cannot go, for there is nothing above this. We may descend
from this but we cannot ascend, or rise above it. But is this any answer
to the argument? A sophister could press it further, and take advantage
from that very ground—What! is not this to establish a mere tyranny in the
Lord, that he doeth all things of mere will and pleasure, distributes
rewards and punishments without previous consideration of men’s carriage?
But here we must stand, and go no farther than the scriptures walk with
us. Whatever reasons or causes may be assigned, yet certainly we must at
length come up hither. All things are, because he so willed, and why
willed we should not ask a reason, because his will is supreme reason, and
the very self rule of all righteousness. Therefore if we once know his
will, we should presently conclude that it is most righteous and holy. If
that evasion of the foreknowledge of men’s sins and impenitency had been
found solid, certainly Paul would have answered so, and not have had his
refuge to the absolute will and pleasure of God, which seem to perplex it
more. But he knew well that there could nothing of that kind, whether good
or evil, either actually be without his will, or be to come without the
determination of the same will, and so could not be foreseen without the
counsel of his will upon it and therefore it had been but a poor shift to
have refuge to that starting hole of foreknowledge, out of which he must
presently flee to the will and pleasure of God, and so he betakes him
straightway to that he must hold at, and opposes that will to man’s
doings. “It is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of
God that showeth mercy.” If he had meant only that Jacob and Esau had
actually done neither good or evil, he needed not return to the sanctuary
of God’s will, for still it might be said, it is of him that runs and
wills and not of God’s will as the first original, because their good and
evil foreseen did move him to such love and hatred. It is all alike of
works of men, whether these works be present or to come; therefore I would
advise every one of you, whatever ye conceive of his judgment or mercy, if
he have showed mercy to you, O then rest not in thyself, but arise and
ascend till thou come to the height of his eternal free purpose! And if
thou conceive the sin, and misery, and judgment, thou mayest go up also to
his holy counsels, for the glory of his name, and silence thyself with
them. But it shall be most expedient for thee in the thought of thy
miseries, to return always within, and search the corruption of thy
nature, which may alone make thee hateful enough to God. If thou search
thy own conscience, it will stop thy mouth, and make thee guilty before
God. Let not the thought of his eternal counsels diminish the conviction
of thy guilt, or the hatred of thyself for sin and corruption, but dwell
more constantly upon this, because thou art called and commanded so to do.
One thing remains fixed,—though he hath fore-ordained man to death, yet
none shall be damned till his conscience be forced to say, that he is
worthy of it a thousand times.
There is another whispering and suggestion of the wicked hearts of men
against the predestination of God, which insinuates that God is an
accepter of persons, and so accuses him of partial and unrighteous
dealing, because he deals not equally with all men. Do ye not say this
within yourselves—If he find all guilty, why does he not punish all? Why
does he spare some? And if ye look upon all men in his first and primitive
thought of them, as neither doing good nor evil, why does he not have
mercy on all? But is thine eye evil because he is good? May he not do with
his own as he pleases? Because he is merciful to some souls, shall men be
displeased, and do well to be angry? Or, because he, of his own free
grace, extends it, shall he be bound by a rule to do so with all? Is not
he both just and merciful, and is it not meet that both be showed forth?
If he punish thee, thou canst not complain, for thou deservest it, if he
show mercy, why should any quarrel, for it is free and undeserved grace.
By saving some, he shows his grace; by destroying others, he shows what
all deserve. God is so far from being an accepter of persons according to
their qualifications and conditions, that he finds nothing in any creature
to cast the balance of his choice. If he did choose men for their works’
sake, or outward privileges, and refuse others for the want of these, then
it might be charged on him, but he rather goes over all these, nay, he
finds none of these. In his first view of men he beholds them all alike,
and nothing to determine his mind to one more than another, so that his
choice proceedeth wholly from within his own breast,—“I will have mercy on
whom I will.” But then, thirdly, Our hearts object against the
righteousness of God, that this fatal chain of predestination overturns
all exhortations and persuasions to godliness, all care and diligence in
well-doing. For thus do many profane souls conceive—If he be in one mind,
who can turn him? Then, what need I pray, since he has already determined
what shall be, and what shall become of me? His purpose will take effect
whether I pray or pray not; my prayer will not make him change his mind,
and if it be in his mind he will do it, if he hath appointed to save us,
saved we shall be, live as we list; if he hath appointed us to death, die
we must, live as we can. Therefore men, in this desperate estate, throw
themselves headlong into all manner of iniquity, and that with quietness
and peace. Thus do many souls perish upon the stumbling-stone laid in
Zion, and wrest the truths and counsels of God to their own destruction,
even quite contrary to their true intent and meaning. Paul, (Eph. i. 4 )
speaks another language—“He hath chosen us in him,—that we should be holy
and without blame.” His eternal counsel of life is so far from loosing the
reins to men’s lusts, that it is the only certain foundation of holiness;
it is the very spring and fountain from whence our sanctification flows by
an infallible course. This chain of God’s counsels concerning us, hath
also linked together the end and the means,—glory and grace,—happiness and
holiness,—that there is no destroying of them. Without holiness it is
impossible to see God, so that those who expect the one without any desire
of, and endeavour after the other, they are upon a vain attempt to loose
the links of this eternal chain. It is the only eternal choosing love of
God, which separated so many souls from the common misery of men. It is
that only which in time doth appear, and rise as it were from under
ground, in the streams or fruits of sanctification. And if the ordinance
of life stand, so shall the ordinance of fruits, John xv. 16, Eph. ii. 10.
If he hath appointed thee to life, it is certain he has also ordained thee
to fruits, and chosen thee to be holy; so that whatever soul casts by the
study of this, there is too gross a brand of perdition upon its forehead.
It is true, all is already determined with him, and he is incapable of any
change, or “shadow of turning.” Nothing then wants, but he is in one mind
about it, and thy prayer cannot turn him. Yet a godly soul will pray with
more confidence, because it knows that as he hath determined upon all its
wants and receipts, so he hath appointed this to be the very way of
obtaining what it wants. This is the way of familiarity and grace. He
takes with his own to make them call, and he performs his purpose in
answer to their cry. But suppose there were nothing to be expected by
prayer, yet I say, that is not the thing thou shouldst look to, but what
is required of thee, as thy duty, to do that simply out of regard to his
majesty, though thou shouldst never profit by it. This is true obedience,
to serve him for his own pleasure, though we had no expectation of
advantage by it. Certainly he doth not require thy supplications for this
end, to move him, and incline his affections toward thee, but rather as a
testimony of thy homage and subjection to him; therefore, though they
cannot make him of another mind than he is, or hasten performance before
his purposed time—so that in reality they have no influence upon him—yet
in praying, and praying diligently, thou declarest thy obligation to him,
and respect to his majesty, which is all thou hast to look to, committing
the event solely to his good pleasure.
The second objection Paul mentions, tends to justify men. “Why then doth
he yet find fault? For who hath resisted his will?” Since by his will he
hath chained us with an inevitable necessity to sin, what can we do? Men
cannot wrestle with him, why then doth he condemn and accuse them? “But
who art thou, O man, who disputest against God?” As if Paul had said, thou
art a man, and so I am, why then lookest thou for an answer from me? Let
us rather both consider whom we speak of, whom thou accusest, and whom I
defend. It is God; what art thou then to charge him, or what am I so to
clear him? Believing ignorance is better than presumptuous knowledge,
especially in those forbidden secrets in which it is more concerning to be
ignorant with faith and admiration, than to know with presumption. Dispute
_thou_, O man, _I_ will wonder, reply _thou_, _I_ will believe! Doth it
become thee, the clay, to speak so to thy Former, “Why hast thou made me
thus?” Let the consideration of the absolute right and dominion of God
over us,—more than any creature hath over another, yea, or over
themselves,—let that restrain us, and keep us within bounds. He may do
with us what he pleaseth, for his own honour and praise, but it is his
will that we should leave all the blame to ourselves, and rather behold
the evident cause of our destruction in our sin, which is nearer us, than
to search into a secret and incomprehensible cause in God’s counsel.
Lecture XVII.
Of Creation
Heb. xi. 3.—“Through faith we understand that the worlds were
framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not
made of things which do appear.”—Gen. i. 1. “In the beginning God
created the heaven and the earth.”
We are come down from the Lord’s purposes and decrees to the execution of
them, which is partly in the works of creation and partly in the works of
providence. The Lord having resolved upon it to manifest his own glory did
in that due and predeterminate time apply his own power to this business.
Having in great wisdom conceived a frame of the world in his mind from all
eternity, he at length brings it forth, and makes it visible. We shall not
insist upon the particular story of it, as it is set down in general, but
only point at some things for our instruction.
First, Ye see who is the Maker of all things, of whom all things visible
and invisible are—it is God. And by this he useth to distinguish himself
from idols and the vanities of the nations, that he is that self being who
gave all things a being, who made the heavens and the earth. This is even
the most glorious manifestation of an invisible and eternal Being. These
things that are made, show him forth. If a man were travelling into a far
country, and wandered into a wilderness where he could see no inhabitants
but only houses, villages and cities built, he would straightway conceive
there hath been some workmen at this; this hath not been done casually but
by the art of some reasonable creatures. How much more may we conceive
when we look on the fabric of this world—how the heavens are stretched out
for a tent to cover them that dwell on the earth, and the earth settled
and established as a firm foundation for men and living creatures to abide
on—how all are done in wisdom and discretion—we cannot but straightway
imagine that there must be some curious and wise contriver, and mighty
creator of these things. It is here said “Through faith we understand that
the worlds were framed.” Indeed faith only in the word of God, gives true
and distinct understanding of it. Innumerable have been the wanderings and
mistakes of the wise of the world about this matter, wanting this lamp and
light of the word of God, which alone gives a true and perfect account of
this thing. Many strange dotages and fancies have they fallen into; yet
certain it is that there is so much of the glory of God engraven without
on the creature, and so much reason imprinted on the souls of men within,
that, if it were not for that judicial plague of the Lord’s darkening
their understandings, who do not glorify him in as far as they know him,
no man could seriously and soberly consider on the visible world, but he
would be constrained to conceive an invisible God. Would not every one
think within himself—all these things, so excellent as they are, cannot be
out of chance, neither could they make themselves, so that of necessity
they must owe what they are to something beside themselves? And of this it
is certain, that it cannot have its original from any other thing, else
there should be no end; therefore it must be some Supreme Being, that is
from no other, and of which are all things.
But next, consider when these things were made—“In the beginning.” And
what beginning is that? Certainly the beginning of the creation, and of
time, to exclude eternity. Whatever may be said of that subtilty, that God
might have created the world from all eternity, for it appears, even in
created things, that there is no necessity of the precedent existence of
the cause, since in the same instant that many things are brought into
being, in the same do they bring forth their effects, as the sun in the
first instant of its creation did illuminate, yet certainly we believe,
from the word of the Lord, that the world is actually but of a few
thousand years standing. Six are not yet run out since the first creating
word was spoken, and since the Spirit of the Lord moved upon the waters.
And this we know also, that if it had pleased his majesty, he might have
created the world many thousand years before that so that it might have
been at this day of ten hundred times ten thousand years standing, and he
might have given it as many years as there are numbers of men and angels,
beasts yea, and pickles(149) of sand upon the sea coast. But it was his
good pleasure that that very point of time in which it was created should
be the beginning of time; and from that he gives us a history of the
world, upon which the church of God may rest, and so seek no other god but
the God that made these heavens and earth.
This will not satisfy the ungodly curiosity and vanity of men’s spirits,
who will reproach the Maker for not applying sooner to his work, and
sitting idle such an immeasurable space of eternity. Men wonder what he
could be doing all that time, if we may call it _time_ which hath no
beginning, and how he was employed. I beseech you, restrain such thoughts
in you with the fear of his glorious and incomprehensible majesty who
gives no account of his matters! It is enough that this is his good
pleasure to begin then, and he conceals his reasons, to prove the sobriety
of our faith, that all men may learn an absolute and simple stooping to
his majesty’s pleasure. Remember that which a godly man answered some
wanton curious wit, who in scorn demanded the same of him—“He was
preparing hell for curious and proud fools,” said he. Let us then keep our
hearts as with a bridle, and repress their boundless wanderings within
bounds, lest we, by looking upward, before the beginning of the world, to
see what God was doing, fall headlong into the eternal pit of destruction,
and into the hands of the living God. God hath shown himself marvellously
these six thousand years in the upholding this world. If we did consider
these continued and repeated testimonies of his glory, we should be
overwhelmed with what we find, though we search no farther. And suppose we
would please ourselves to imagine that it had been created many years
before, yet that doth not silence and stop the insolence of men’s minds,
for it always might be inquired, what the Lord was doing before that time.
For eternity is as immensurable before those multiplied thousands of years
as before naked six. Let our imagination sit down to subtract from
eternity as many thousands as it can multiply by all the varieties and
numbers in the world, yet there is nothing abated from eternity.(150) It
is as infinite in extent before that, as before the present six thousand,
and yet we may conceive that the Lord hath purposed in the beginning of
the world to declare more manifestly to our understanding his eternity,
his self sufficiency, and liberty,—his eternity, that when we hear of how
short standing the creature is, we may go upward to God himself, and his
everlasting being, before the foundations of it were laid, may shine forth
more brightly to our admiration, when we can stretch our conceptions so
immensurably as far beyond the beginning of the world; and yet God is
still beyond the utmost reach of our imagination,—for who can find out the
beginning of that which hath not a beginning to be found out,—and our most
extended apprehensions fall infinitely short of the days of the Ancient of
days. O how glorious, then, must his being be, and how boundless! His
self-sufficiency and perfection doth herein appear, that from such an
inconceivable space he was as perfect and blessed in himself as now. The
creatures add nothing to his perfection or satisfaction. He was as
well-pleased with his own all-comprehending being, and with the very
thought and purpose of making this world, as now he is when it is made.
The idea of it in his mind gave him as great contentment as the work
itself when it is done! O, to conceive this aright,—it would fill a soul
with astonishing and ravishing thoughts of his blessedness! Poor men weary
if they be not one way or other employed without; so indigent are all
creatures at home, that they would weary if they went not abroad without
themselves. But to think how absolutely God is well-pleased with himself,
and how all imaginable perfections can add nothing to his eternal
self-complacency and delight in his own being, it would certainly ravish a
soul to delight in God also. And as his self-sufficiency doth herein
appear, so his liberty and freedom is likewise manifested in it. If the
world had been eternal, who would have thought that it was free for his
majesty to make it or not, but that it had flowed from his glorious being
with as natural and necessary a resistance as light from the body of the
sun? But now it appears to all men, that for his pleasure they are made,
and we are created; that it was simply the free and absolute motion of his
will that gave a being to all things, which he could withhold at his
pleasure or so long as he pleased.
Thirdly, We have it to consider in what condition he made all these
things, “very good;” and that to declare his goodness and wisdom. The
creature may well be called a large volume, extended and spread out before
the eyes of all men, to be seen and read of all. It is certain, if these
things,—all of them in their orders and harmonies, or any of them in their
beings and qualities,—were considered in relation to God’s majesty, they
would teach and instruct both the fool and the wise man in the knowledge
of God. How many impressions hath he made in the creatures, which reflect
upon any seeing eye the very image of God! To consider of what a vast and
huge frame the heavens and the earth are, and yet but one throne to his
majesty, the footstool whereof is this earth, wherein vain men erect many
palaces; to consider what a multitude of creatures, what variety of fowls
in the heaven, and what multiplicity of beasts upon the earth, what hosts,
as Moses speaks (Gen. ii. 1,) and yet that none of them all are useless,
but all of them have some special ends and purposes they serve for, so
that there is no discord nor disorder, nor superfluity nor want in all
this monarchy of the world: all of them conspire together in such a
discord, or disagreeing harmony, to one great purpose,—to declare the
wisdom of him who “made every thing beautiful in its time,” and every
thing most fit and apposite for the use it was created for; so that the
whole earth is full of his goodness. He makes every creature good one to
another, to supply one another’s necessities; and then, notwithstanding of
so many different natures and dispositions between elements, and things
composed of them, yet all these contrarieties have such a commixion, and
are so moderated by supreme art, that they make up jointly one excellent
and sweet harmony or beautiful proportion in the world. O how wise must he
be who alone contrived it all! We can do nothing except we have some
pattern or copy before us; but now, upon this ground which God hath laid,
man may fancy many superstructures. But when he stretched out the heaven,
and laid the foundation of the earth, “who, being his counsellor, taught
him?” At whom did his Spirit take counsel? Certainly, none of all these
things would have entered into the heart of man to consider or contrive,
Isa. xl. 12, 13. Some ruder spirits do gaze upon the huge and prodigious
pieces of the creation, as whales and elephants, &c.; but a wise Solomon
will go to the school of the ant to learn the wisdom of God, and choose
out such a simple and mean creature for the object of his admiration.
Certainly, there are wonders in the smallest and most inconsiderable
creatures which faith can contemplate. O the curious ingenuity and draught
of the finger of God, in the composition of flies, bees, flowers, &c. Men
ordinarily admire more some extraordinary things; but the truth is, the
whole course of nature is one continued wonder, and that greater than any
of the Lord’s works without the line. The straight and regular line of the
wisdom of God, who, in one constant course and tenor, hath ordained the
actions of all his creatures, comprehends more wonders and mysteries, as
the course of the sun, the motion of the sea, the hanging of the earth in
the empty place upon nothing. These, we say, are the wonders indeed, and
comprehend something in them which all the wonders of Egypt and the
wilderness cannot parallel. But it is the stupid security of men, that are
only awakened by some new and unusual passages of God’s works beyond that
straight line of nature.
Then, fourthly, Look upon the power of God in making all of nothing, which
is expressed here in Heb. xi. There is no artificer but he must have
matter, or his art will fail him, and he can do nothing. The mason must
have timber and stones laid to his hand, or he cannot build a house; the
goldsmith must have gold or silver ere he can make a cup or a ring. Take
the most curious and quick inventor of them all,—they must have some
matter to work upon, or their knowledge is no better than ignorance. All
that they can do is, to give some shape or form, or to fashion that in
some new model which had a being before. So that, whatever men have done
in the world, their works are all made up of those things which appear,
and art and skill to form and fashion that excellently which before was in
another mould and fashion. But he needs not sit idle for want of
materials, because he can make his materials; and therefore, in the
beginning he made heaven and earth, not as they now are, but he made first
the matter and substance of this universe, but it was as yet a rude and
confused chaos or mass, all in one lump, without difference. But then his
majesty shows his wisdom and art, his excellent invention, in the
following days of the creation, in ordering and beautifying and forming
the world as it is, and that his power might be the more known; for how
easy is it for him to do all this? There needs no more for it but a
word,—let it be, and it is. “He spake, and it was done; he commanded, and
it stood fast.” Not a word pronounced, and audibly composed of letters and
syllables—mistake it not so—but a word inwardly formed, as it were, in his
infinite Spirit. Even the inclination and beck of his will suffices for
his great work. Ye see what labour and pains we have in our business,—how
we toil and sweat about it,—what wrestlings and strivings in all things we
do; but behold what a great work is done without pain and travail? It is a
laborious thing to travel through a parcel of this earth, which is yet but
as the point of the universe; it is troublesome to lift or carry a little
piece of stone or clay; it is a toil even to look upward and number the
stars of heaven. But it was no toil, no difficult thing to his majesty, to
stretch out these heavens in such an infinite compass; for as large as the
circumference of them is, yet it is as easy to him to compass them, as it
is to us to span a finger-length or two. It is no difficulty to him to
take up hills and mountains as “the dust of the balance,” in his hand, and
weigh them in scales. Hath he not chained the vast and huge mass of the
weighty earth and sea, in the midst of the empty place, without a
supporter, without foundations or pillars? He hangeth it on nothing. What
is it, I pray you, that supports the clouds? Who is it that binds up their
waters in such a way that the clouds are not rent under them, even though
there be more abundance of water in them than is in all the rivers and
waters round about us? Job xxvi. 7, 8. Who is it that restrains and sets
bounds to the sea, that the waters thereof, though they roar, yet do not
overflow the land, but this almighty Jehovah, whose decree and commandment
is the very compass, the bulwark over which they cannot flow? And all this
he doth with more facility than men can speak. If there were a creature
that could do all things by speaking, that were a strange power. But yet
that creature might be wearied of speaking much. But he speaks, and it is
done. His word is a creating word of power, which makes things that are
not to be, and there is no wearying of him besides, for he is almighty and
cannot faint. But why then did he take six days for his work? Might he not
with one word of his power have commanded this world to issue out of his
omnipotent virtue thus perfect as it is? What needed all this compass? Why
took he six days, who in a moment could have done it all with as much
facility? Indeed herein the Lord would have us to adore his wisdom as well
as his power. He proceeds from more imperfect things to more perfect;—from
a confused chaos to a beautiful world,—from motion to rest,—to teach man
to walk through this wilderness and valley of tears, this shapeless world,
into a more beautiful habitation; through the tossings of time, into an
eternal sabbath of rest, whither their works shall follow them, and they
shall rest from their labours. He would teach us to take a steadfast look
of his work, and that we should be busied all the days of our pilgrimage
and sojourning in the consideration of the glorious characters of God upon
the works of his hands. We see that it is but passing looks and glances of
God’s glory we take in the creatures; but the Lord would have us to make
it our work and business all the week through, as it was his to make them.
He would in this teach us his loving care of men, who would not create man
till he had made for him so glorious a house, replenished with all good
things. It had been a darksome and irksome life to have lived in the first
chaos without light, but he hath stretched over him the heavens as his
tent, and set lights in them to distinguish times and seasons, and
ordained the waters their proper bounds and peculiar channels, and then
maketh the earth to bring forth all manner of fruit, and when all is thus
disposed, then he creates man. To this God, the Maker of heaven and earth,
be glory and praise.
Lecture XVIII.
Of Creation
Heb. xi. 3.—“Through faith we understand that the worlds were
framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not
made of things which do appear.”—Heb. i. 14.—“Are they not all
ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be
heirs of salvation?”
There is nothing more generally known than this, that God at the beginning
made the heaven and the earth, and all the host of them, the upper or the
celestial, the lower or sublunary world. But yet there is nothing so
little believed or laid to heart. “Through faith we understand that the
worlds were framed.” It is one of the first articles of the creed,
indeed,—“Father, almighty Maker of heaven and earth.” But I fear that
creed is not written in the tables of flesh, that is, the heart. There is
a twofold mistake among men about the point of believing. Some, and the
commoner sort, do think it is no other than simply to know such a thing,
and not to question it, to hear it, and not to contradict it, or object
against it, therefore they do flatter themselves in their own eyes, and do
account themselves to have faith in God, because they can say over all the
articles of their belief. They think the word is true, and they never
doubted of it. But, I beseech you, consider how greatly you mistake a main
matter of weighty concernment. If you will search it, as before the Lord,
you will find you have no other belief of these things than children use
to have, whom you teach to think or say any thing. There is no other
ground of your not questioning these truths of the gospel, but because you
never consider them, and so they pass for current. Do not deceive
yourselves, “with the heart man believes.” It is a heart-business, a soul
matter, no light and useless opinion, or empty expression, which you have
learned from a child. You say, you believe in God, the Maker of heaven and
earth, and so say children, who doubt no more of it than you, and yet in
sadness they do not retire within their own hearts, to think what an One
he is. They do not remember him in the works of his hands. There is no
more remembrance of that true God than if no such thing were known. So it
is among you,—you would think we wronged you if we said, ye believed not
that God made the world, and yet certainly, all men have not this faith,
whereby they understand truly in their heart, the power and wisdom and
goodness of God appearing in it, that is the gift of God, only given to
them that shall be saved. If I should say, that you believe not the most
common principles of religion, you will think it hard, and yet there is no
doubt of it, that the most common truths are least believed. And the
reason is plain, because men have learned them by tongue, and there is
none that question them, and therefore, very few ever, in sadness and in
earnest, consider of them. You say that God made heaven and earth, but how
often do ye think on that God? And how often do you think on him with
admiration? Do ye at all wonder at the glory of God when ye gaze on his
works? Is not this volume always obversant before your eyes—every thing
showing and declaring this glorious Maker? Yet who is it that taketh more
notice of him than if he were not at all? Such is the general stupidity of
men, that they never ponder and digest these things in their heart, till
their soul receive the stamp of the glory and greatness of the invisible
God, which shines most brightly in those things that are visible, and be
in some measure transformed in their minds, and conformed to those
glorious appearances of him, which are engraven in great characters in all
that do at all appear. There is another mistake peculiar to some,
especially the Lord’s people, that they think faith is limited to some few
particular and more unknown and hidden truths and mysteries of the gospel.
Ye think that it is only true believing, to embrace some special gospel
truths, which the multitude of people know nothing of, as the tenor of the
covenants of grace and works, &c. And for other common principles of God’s
making and ruling the world, you think that a common thing to believe
them. But, saith the apostle, “through faith we understand that the worlds
were framed.” It is that same faith spoken of in the end of the 10th
chapter, by which the “just shall live.” So then, here is a point of
saving faith, to believe with the heart in God, the Creator and Father
Almighty, to take a view of God’s almighty power, and sufficient goodness
and infinite wisdom, shining in the fabric of the world, and that with
delight and admiration at such a glorious fountain being; to rise up to
his majesty by the degrees of his creatures. This is the climbing and
aspiring nature of faith. You see how much those saints in the Old
Testament were in this and certainly they had more excellent and beseeming
thoughts of God than we. It should make Christians ashamed, that both
heathens, who had no other book opened to them but that of nature, did
read it more diligently than we, and that the saints of old, who had not
such a plain testimony of God as we now have, did yet learn more out of
the book of the creature than we do both out of it and the scriptures. We
look on all things with such a careless eye, and do not observe what may
be found of God in them. I think, verily, there are many Christians, and
ministers of the gospel, who do not ascend into those high and ravishing
thoughts of God, in his being and working, as would become even mere
naturalists. How little can they speak of his majesty, or think as it
becomes his transcendent glory! There is little in sermons or discourses
that holds out any singular admiring thoughts of a Deity, but in all these
we are as common and careless as if he were an idol.
It is not in vain that it is expressed thus: “through faith we know that
the worlds were framed.” For certainly the firm believing and pondering of
this one truth would be of great moment and use to a Christian in all his
journey. You may observe in what stead it is to the saints in scripture
this raises up a soul to high thoughts, and suitable conceptions of his
glorious name, and so conforms the worship of his majesty unto his
excellency. It puts the stamp of divinity upon it, and spiritualizes the
thoughts and affections, so as to put a true difference between the true
God, and the gods that made not the heavens and the earth. Alas! the
worship of many Christians speaks out no diviner or higher object than a
creature, it is so cold, so formal and empty, so vain and wandering. There
is no more respect testified unto him, than we would give unto some
eminent person. You find in the scripture how the strain of the saints’
affections and devotion rises, when they take up God in his absolute
supremacy above the creatures, and look on him as the alone fountain of
all that is worth the name of perfection in them. A soul in that
consideration cannot choose but assign unto him the most eminent seat in
the heart, and gather those affections which are scattered after the
creatures, into one channel, to pour them out on him who is all in all,
and hath all that which is lovely in the creatures in an eminent degree.
Therefore know what you are formed for,—to show forth his praise, to
gather and take up from the creatures all the fruits of his praise, and
offer them up to his majesty. This was the end of man, and this is the end
of a Christian. You are made for this, and you were redeemed for this, to
read upon the volumes of his works and word, and from thence extract songs
of praise to his majesty.
As this would be of great moment to the right worshipping of God, and to
the exercise of true holiness, so it is most effectual to the establishing
of a soul in the confidence of the promises of God. When a soul by faith
understands the world was made by God, then it relies with confidence upon
that same word of God, as a word of power, and hopes against hope. There
are many things in the Christian’s way betwixt him and glory, which look
as insuperable. Thou art often emptied into nothing, and stripped naked of
all encouragements, and there is nothing remaining but the word of God’s
promises to thee and to the church, which seems contrary to sense and
reason. Now, I say, if thou do indeed believe that the world was made by
God, then out of all question thou mayest silence all thy fears with this
one thought—God created this whole frame out of nothing, he commanded the
light to shine out of darkness then certainly he can give a being to his
own promises. Is not his word of promise as sure and effectual as his word
of command? This is the grand encouragement of the church, both offered by
God, from Isa. chap. xl., and made use of by his saints, as David,
Hezekiah, &c. What is it would disquiet a soul if it were reposed on this
rock of creating power and faithfulness? This would always sound in its
ears,—“Faint not, weary not, Jacob, I am God, and none else. The portion
of Jacob is not like others.” Be it inward or outward
difficulties,—suppose hell and earth combined together,—let all the
enemies of a soul, or of the church assemble,—here is one for all. The God
that made the heaven and the earth can speak, and it is done, command, and
it stands fast! He creates peace, and who then can make trouble, when he
gives quietness to a nation, or to a person? Almighty power works in
saints, and for saints. Let us trust in him.
Lecture XIX.
Of The Creation 0f Man
Gen. i. 26, 27.—“And God said, Let us make man in our image, after
our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea,
and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all
the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the
earth. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God
created he him, male and female created he them.”—With Eph. iv.
24.—“And that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in
righteousness and true holiness.”—And Heb. iii. 10.—“Wherefore I
was grieved with that generation, and said, They do alway err in
their heart, and they have not known my ways.”
While we descend from the meditation of the glory of God shining in the
heavens, in sun, moon, and stars, unto the consideration of the Lord’s
framing of man after this manner, we may fall into admiration with the
Psalmist, (Psal. viii.) “Lord, what is man that thou art mindful of him?
and the son of man, that thou visitest him?” It might indeed drown us in
wonder, and astonish us, to think what special notice he hath taken of
such a creature from the very beginning, and put more respect upon him
than upon all the more excellent works of his hands. You find here the
creation of man expressed in other terms than were used before. He said,
“Let there be light,” and it was, “let there be dry land,” &c. But it is
not such a simple word as that, but “let us make man in our image,” as if
God had called a consultation about it. What! was there any more
difficulty in this than in the rest of his works? Needed he any advisement
about his frame and constitution? No certainly, for there was as great
work of power, as curious pieces of art and wisdom, which were instantly
done upon his word. He is not a man that he should advise or consult. As
there is no difficulty nor impediment in the way of his power,—he doth all
that he pleases, _ad nutum_, at his very word or nod, so easy are
impossibilities to him,—so there is nothing hard to his wisdom, no knot
but it can loose, nothing so curious or exquisite but he can as curiously
contrive it, as the most common and gross pieces of the creation, and
therefore, “he is wonderful in counsel, and excellent in working.” But ye
have here expressed, as it were, a counsel of the holy and blessed Trinity
about man’s creation, to signify to us what peculiar respect he puts upon
that creature, and what special notice he takes of us, that of his own
free purpose and good pleasure he was to single and choose out man from
among all other creatures, for the more eminent demonstration of his
glorious attributes of grace, mercy, and justice upon him, and likewise to
point out the excellency that God did stamp upon man in his creation
beyond the rest of the creatures, as the apostle shows the excellency of
Christ above angels, “To which of the angels said he at any time, Thou art
my son?” Heb. i. 5. So we may say, of which of the creatures said he at
any time, “Come, let us make them in our image after our likeness?” O how
should this make us listen to hear, earnest to know what man once was, how
magnified of God, and set above the works of his hands? There is a great
desire in men to search into their original, and to trace backward the
dark footsteps of antiquity, especially if they be put in expectation of
attaining any honourable or memorable extraction? How will men love to
hear of the worth of their ancestors? But what a stupidity doth possess
the most part, in relation to the high fountain and head of all, that they
do not aim so high as Adam, to know the very estate of human nature? Hence
it is that the most part of people lie still astonished, or rather stupid
and senseless, after this great fall of man, because they never look
upward to the place and dignity from whence man did fall. It is certain,
you will never rightly understand yourselves or what you are, till ye know
first what man was made. You cannot imagine what your present misery is,
till you once know what that felicity was in which man was made,—“let us
make man in our image.” Some have called man μικροκοσμος “a little world,”
a compend of the world, because he hath heaven and earth as it were
married together in him—two most remote and distant natures, the dust of
the earth, and the immortal spirit, which is called the breath of God,
sweetly linked and conjoined together, with a disposition and inclination
one to another. The Lord was in this piece of workmanship as it were to
give a narrow and short compend of all his works, and so did associate in
one piece with marvellous wisdom, being, living, moving, sense and reason,
which are scattered abroad in the other creatures, so that a man carries
these wonders about with him, which he admires without him. At his bare
and simple word, this huge frame of the world started out of nothing, but
in this, he acts the part of a cunning artificer,—“Let us make man.” He
makes rather than creates, first raises the walls of flesh, builds the
house of the body with all its organs, all its rooms, and then he puts in
a noble and divine guest to dwell in it. He breathes in it the breath of
life. He incloses as it were an angel within it, and marries these
together in the most admirable union and communion that can be imagined,
so that they make up one man.
But that which the Lord looks most into in this work, and would have us
most to consider, is that image of himself that he did imprint on
man,—“Let us make man in our own image.” There was no creature but it had
some engravings of God upon it, some curious draughts and lineaments of
his power, wisdom, and goodness upon it, and therefore the heavens are
said to show forth his glory, &c. But whatever they have, it is but the
lower part of that image, some dark shadows and resemblances of him, but
that which is the last of his works, he makes it according to his own
image, _tanquam ab ultima manu_. He therein gives out himself to he read
and seen of all men as in a glass. Other creatures are made as it were
according to the similitude of his footstep,—_ad similitudinem
vestigii_,—but man _ad similitudinem faciei_,—according to the likeness of
his face,—“in our image, after our likeness.” It is true there is only
Jesus Christ his Son, who is “the brightness of his glory, and the express
substantial image of his person,” who resembles him perfectly and
thoroughly in all properties, so that he is _alter idem_, another self
both in nature, properties, and operations,—so like him that he is one
with him, so that it is rather an _oneness_, than a likeness. But man he
created according to his own image, and gave him to have some likeness to
himself,—likeness I say, not _sameness_ or _oneness_. That is high indeed,
to be like God. The notion and expression of it imports some strange
thing. How could man be like God, who is infinite, incomprehensible, whose
glory is not communicable to another? It is true, indeed, in those
incommunicable properties he hath not only no equal, but none to liken
him. In these he is to be adored, and admired as infinitely transcending
all created perfections and conceptions, But yet in others he has been
pleased to hold forth himself to be imitated and followed. And that this
might be done, he first stamps them upon man in his first moulding of him.
And if ye would know what these are particularly, the apostle expresses
them, “in knowledge,” (Col. iii. 10) “in righteousness and true holiness,”
Eph. iv. 21. This is the “image of him who created him,” which the Creator
stamped on man, that he might seek him, and set him apart for himself to
keep communion with him, and to bless him. There is a spirit given to man
with a capacity to know and to will, and here is a draught and lineament
of God’s face which is not engraven on any sensitive creature. It is one
of the most noble and excellent operations of life, in which a man is most
above beasts, to reflect upon himself and to know himself and his Creator.
There are natural instincts given to other things, natural propensions to
those things that are convenient to their own nature, but none of them
have so much as a capacity to know what they are, or what they have. They
cannot frame a notion of him who gave them a being but are only
proportionate to the discerning of some sensible things, and can reach no
further. He hath limited the eye within colours and light, he hath set a
bound to the ear that it cannot act without sounds, and so to every sense
he hath assigned its own proper stanse, in which it moves. But he teaches
man knowledge, and he enlarges the sphere of his understanding beyond
visible or sensible things to things invisible,—to spirits. And this
capacity he has put in the soul,—to know all things, and itself among the
rest. The eye discerns light, but sees not itself, but he gives a spirit
to man to know himself and his God. And then there is a willing power in
the soul, by which it diffuses itself towards any thing that is conceived
as good, the understanding directing, and the will commanding according to
its direction, and then the whole faculties and senses obeying such
commands, which makes up an excellent draught of the image of God. There
was a sweet proportion and harmony in Adam, all was in due place and
subordination. The motions of immortal man did begin within. The lamp of
reason did shine and give light to it, and till that went before, there
was no stirring, no choosing, no refusing, and when reason—which was one
sparkle of the divine nature, or a ray of God’s light reflected into the
soul of man,—when once that did appear to the discerning of good and evil
this power was in the soul, to apply the whole man accordingly, to choose
the good and refuse the evil. It had not been a lively resemblance of God
to have a power of knowing and willing simply, unless these had been
beautified and adorned with supernatural and divine graces of spiritual
light and holiness and righteousness. These make up the lively colour, and
complete the image of God upon the soul.
There was a divine light which did shine in upon the understanding, ever
till sin interposed and eclipsed it, and from the light of God’s
countenance did the sweet heat and warmness of holiness and uprightness in
the affections proceed, so that there was nothing but purity and cleanness
in the soul, no darkness of ignorance, no muddiness of carnal affections,
but the soul pure and transparent, to receive the refreshing and
enlightening rays of God’s glorious countenance. And this was the very
face and beauty of the soul. It is that only that is the beauty and
excellency of the creature,—conformity to God. And this was throughout, in
understanding and affections, the understanding conformed to his
understanding, discerning between good and evil. And conformed it behoved
to be, for it was but a ray of that sun, a stream of that fountain of
wisdom, and a light derived from that primitive light of God’s
understanding. And then the will did sympathize as much with his will,
approving and choosing what he approved, and refusing that which he hated
_Idem velle atque nolle, ea demum firma amicitia est_.(151) That was the
conjunction, and it was more strict than any tie among men. There were not
two wills, they were, as it were, one. The love of God reflecting into the
soul, did, as it were, carry the soul back again unto him, and that was
the conforming principle which fashioned the whole man without and within,
to his likeness and to his obedience. Thus man was formed for communion
with God, this likeness behoved to be, or they could not join as friends.
But now this calls us to a sad meditation, to think from whence we have
fallen, and so how great our fall is. To fall from such a blessed estate,
that must be great misery! Satan hath spoiled us of our rich treasure,
that glorious image of holiness, and hath drawn upon our souls the very
visage of hell, the lineaments of his hellish countenance. But the most
part of men lie stupid, insensible of any thing, as beasts that are felled
with their fall, that can neither find pain nor rise. If we could but
return and consider what are all those sad and woful consequences of sin
in the world,—what a strange distemper it hath put in the creation,—what
miseries that one fall hath brought on all mankind,—I am sure by these
bruises we might conjecture what a strange fall it hath been. Sin did
interpose between God and us, and this darkened our souls and killed them.
The light of knowledge was put out, and the life of holiness extinguished,
and now there remains nothing of all that stately building, but some ruins
of common principles of reason and honesty engraven on all men’s
consciences, which may show unto us what the building hath been. We have
fallen from holiness, and so from happiness. Our souls are deformed and
defiled. You see what an ill favoured thing it is, to see a child wanting
any members. O if sin were visible, how ugly would the shape of the soul
be to us, since it lost the very proportion and visage of it, that is,
God’s image! Let us consider this doctrine, that we may know from whence
we have fallen, and into what a gulf of sin and misery we have fallen,
that the news of Jesus Christ, a Mediator and Redeemer of fallen man, may
be sweet unto us. Thus it pleased the lord to let his image be marred and
quite spoiled in us, for he had this design to repair it and renew it
better than of old, and for this end he hath created Christ according to
his image. He hath stamped that image of holiness upon his flesh to be a
pattern,—and not only so, but a pledge also,—of restoring such souls as
flee unto him for refuge, unto that primitive glory and excellency. Know
then, that he hath made his Son like unto us, that we might again be made
like unto him. He said, let one of us be made man, in the counsel of
redemption, that so it might again be said, let man be made like unto us,
in our image. It is a second creation must do it, and O that you would
look upon your hearts to inquire if it be framed in you! Certainly you
must again be created into that image if you belong to Christ. To him be
praise and glory.
Lecture XX.
God’s Works Of Providence
Rom. xi. 36.—“For of him, and through him, and to him are all
things, to whom be glory for ever, Amen.”—Psal. ciii. 19.—“The
Lord hath prepared his throne in the heavens and his kingdom
ruleth over all.”—Matt. x. 29.—“Are not two sparrows sold for a
farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without
your Father.”
There is nothing more commonly confessed in words, than that the
providence of God reaches to all the creatures and their actions, but I
believe there is no point of religion so superficially and slightly
considered by the most part of men. The most part ponder none of these
divine truths. There is nothing above their senses which is the subject of
their meditations. And for the children of God, I fear many do give such
truths of God too common and coarse entertainment in their minds. I know
not what we are taken up with in this age,—with some particular truths
more remote from the knowledge of others in former times, or some
particular cases concerning ourselves? You will find the most part of
Christians stretch not their thoughts beyond their own conditions or
interests, or some particular questions about faith and repentance, &c.
And in the mean time the most weighty points of religion, which have been
the subject of the meditation and admiration of saints in all ages, are
wholly laid aside through a misapprehension of their commonness as if a
man would despise the sun and the air, and prefer some rare piece of stone
or timber to them. Certainly, as in the disposal of the world, the Lord
hath in great wisdom and goodness made the most needful and useful things
most common—those without which man cannot live are always obvious to us,
so that if any thing be more rare, it is not necessary—so in this universe
of religion, he in mercy and wisdom hath so framed all, that those points
of truth and belief which are most near the substance of salvation and
necessary to it, and most fit to exercise us in true godliness,— these are
everywhere to be found, partly engraven on men’s hearts, partly set down
most clearly and often in scripture, that a believing soul can look
nowhere but it must breathe in that air of the gospel, and look upon that
common Sun of righteousness, God the Creator, and the healing Sun, Christ
the Redeemer, shining everywhere in scripture. The general providence of
God and the special administration of Christ the Saviour, these are
common, and these are essential to our happiness. Therefore the meditation
of Christians should run most upon them, and not always about some
particular questions or debates of the time. It is a strange thing how
people should be more affected with a discourse on the affairs of the
time, or on some inward thoughts of their own hearts, than if one should
speak of God’s universal kingdom over all men and nations. That is
accounted a general and ordinary discourse, even as if men would set at
nought the sun’s light, because it shines to all, and every day, or would
despise the water, because it may be found everywhere. Let the sun be
removed for some few days, and O what would the world account of it beyond
all your curious devices or rare enjoyments! This is it which would
increase to more true godliness, if rightly believed, than many other
things ye are busied withal. It is our general view of them makes them but
general. I spoke once upon this word, Rom. xi. 36, but only in reference
to the end of man, which is God’s glory, but the words do extend further,
and we must now consider what further they hold forth. The apostle hath
been speaking of the Lord’s unsearchable ways and judgments towards men in
the dispensation of grace and salvation, how free and how absolute he is
in that. And this he strengthens by the supreme wisdom of God, who did
direct him. Why dost thou, O man, take upon thee to direct him now? For,
where was there any counsellor when he alone contrived all the frame of
this world, and then, by sovereign highness and supremacy over the
creatures, disposed of them? For he is a debtor to none, therefore none
can quarrel him for giving or not giving, for who was it that gave him
first, for which he should give a recompense? Was there any could prevent
him with a gift? Nay, none could, saith he, “for of him, and through him,
and to him are all things” and therefore he must prevent men. For from
whence should that gift of the creature, which could oblige him, have its
rise? It must be of God, if it be a creature, and therefore he is in no
man’s common, he must give it ere we have it to give him again.
The words are most comprehensive. They comprehend all things, and that is
very large. There is nothing without this compass, and they comprehend all
the dependence of things. Things depend upon that which made them, that
which preserves them, and that for which they are made. All things depend
on him as their producing cause that gives them a being, “for of him are
all things.” They also depend on him as their conserving cause, who
continues their being by that selfsame influence wherewith he gave it,
“for through him are all things.” And then they depend on him as their
final cause, for whose glory they are and are continued, for, “to him are
all things.” Thus you have the beginning, the continuance, and the end of
the whole creation. This word may lead us through all, from God, as the
beginning, the alpha and original of their being, through God, as the only
supporter, confirmer and upholder of their being, and unto God, as the
very end for which they have their being. Now, to travel within this
compass,—to walk continually within this circle, and to go along this
blessed round—to begin at God, and to go along all our way with him, till
we arrive and end at God,—and thus to do continually in the journey of
meditation, when it surveys any of his works—this were, indeed, the very
proper work, and the special happiness man was created for, and, I may
say, a great part of that which a Christian is created for. Again, there
would be nothing more powerful to the conforming of a soul to God, and to
his obedience and fear than this, to have that persuasion firmly rooted in
the heart—that of God “are all things,” that whatever it be, good or evil
that befalls us or others,—whatever we observe in the world, that is the
subject of the thoughts and discourses of men, and turns men’s eyes after
them—that all that is of God, that is, it is in the world, it started out
of nothing at his command, it is, because his power gave it a being, and
in this consideration to overlook, and in a manner forget, all second
causes, to have such affecting and uptaking thoughts of the first
principle of all these motions, as to regard the lower wheels, that are
next us, no more than the hand or the sword that a man strikes us with as
if these second causes had no influence of their own but were merely acted
and moved by this supreme power, as if God did nothing by them, but only
at their presence. We should so labour to look on those things he doth by
creatures, as if he did them alone without the creatures, as if he were
this day creating a world. Certainly, the solid faith of God’s providence
will draw off the covering of the creature, and espy the secret almighty
power which acts in every thing to bring forth his good pleasure
concerning them. And then to consider, with that same seriousness of
meditation that the same everlasting arm which made them, is under them to
support them, that the most noble and excellent creatures are but streams,
rays, images and shadows of God’s majesty, which, as they have their being
by derivation, so they have then continuance by that same continued
influence, so that if he would interpose between himself and them, or
withdraw his countenance, or stop his influence, the most sufficient of
them all should evanish, as the sun beams dry up the streams of a
fountain, and disappear as the image of the glass, Psal. civ. 29, 30. O
that place were a pertinent object of a Christian’s meditation, how much
of God is to be pressed out of it by a serious pondering of it! “Thou
hidest thy face, they are troubled: thou takest away their breath, they
die and return to their dust. Thou sendest forth thy Spirit, they are
created.” It is even with the very being and faculties of the creature as
with the image in the glass, which, when the face removes, it is seen no
more. The Lord, as it were, breathes into them a being, and when he takes
in his breath they perish, and when he sends it out again they are
renewed. We do not wonder at the standing of the world, but think, if we
had been witnesses of the making of it, we would have been filled with
admiration. But certainly it is only our stupidity that doth not behold
that same wonder continued, for what is the upholding of this by his power
but a very continued and repeated creation,—which influence were able to
bring a world out of nothing? If this had not been before the virtue and
power he employs now in making them subsist, that same alone, without any
addition of power, would have in the beginning made all thus to be of
nothing, so that the continuance of the world is nothing else but an
uninterrupted and constant flux and emanation of these things from God, as
of light from the body of the sun. And then to meditate how all these
things are for him and his glory, though we know no use nor end of them,
yet that his majesty hath appointed them to show forth, one way or other,
the glory of his name in them, and those things which to our first and
foolish apprehensions seem most contrary to him, and, as it were, to
spread a cloud of darkness over his glorious name—the sins and perverse
doings of men and angels, the many disorders and confusions in the world,
which seem to reflect some way upon him, that yet he hath holy and
glorious ends in them all, yea, that himself is the end of all, I say, to
meditate on these things till our soul received the stamp of reverence,
and fear, and faith in God,—this would certainly be the most becoming
exercise of a Christian, to bring all things down from God, that we might
return and ascend with all things again unto God.
This is the most suitable employment of a man, as reasonable, much more as
a Christian, that very duty he was created for. “This people have I formed
for myself, they shall show forth my praise,” Isa. xliii. 21. And this is
the showing forth of his praise, to follow forth the footsteps of God in
the word and in the world, and to ponder these paths of divine power and
goodness and wisdom, and to acknowledge him with our heart in all these.
He made many creatures on which his glory and praise is showed forth, and
he made this creature man to show forth that praise and that glory which
is showed forth in other creatures. O but this is a divine office! It is
strange how our hearts are carried forth towards base things, and busied
in many vain, impertinent, and base employments and scarce ever mind this
great one we were created for.
Certainly, this is the employment we were made for, to deduce all things
from God till we can again reduce all to him with glory, to bring all down
from his everlasting counsels, until we send all up to his eternal glory,
together with the sacrifice of our hearts, to behold all things to be of
him, that is, of his eternal counsel and decree.—to have their rise in the
bosom of that, and then, through him, to proceed out of the bosom of his
decree and purpose, by his power, _quasi obstetricante potentia_, and then
to return with all the promise and glory to his ever glorious name, “for
whom are all things.” There is none but they will allow God some
government in the world. Some would have him as a king, commanding and
doing all by deputies and substitutes. Some would have his influence
general, like the sun’s upon sublunary things, but how shallow are all
men’s thoughts in regard of that which is? God has prepared, indeed, his
throne in the heavens. That is true, that his glory doth manifest itself
in some strange and majestic manner above, but the whole tenor of
Scripture shows that he is not shut up in heaven, but that he immediately
cares for, governs, and disposes all things in the world, for his kingdom
is over all. It is the weakness of kings, not their glory, that they have
need of deputies, it is his glory, not baseness, to look to the meanest of
his creatures. It is a poor resemblance and empty shadow that kings have
of him, he rules in the kingdoms of men, and to him belongs the dominion
and the glory. He deserves the name of a king, whose beck heaven and earth
obey. Can a king command that the sea flow not? Can a parliament act and
ordain that the sun rise not? Or will these obey them? Yet at his decree
and command the sun is dark, the sea stands still, the mountains tremble;
“at thy rebuke the sea fled.” Alas! what do we mean that we look upon
creatures, and act ourselves as if we were independent in our being and
moving? How many things fall out and you call them casual and attribute
them to fortune? How many things do the world gaze upon, think upon, and
discourse upon, and yet not one thought, one word of God all the time?
What more contingent than the falling of a sparrow on the ground? And yet
even that is not unexpected to him, but it flows from his will and
counsel. What less taken notice of or known than the hairs of your head?
Yet these are particularly numbered by him, and so that no power in the
world can add to them or diminish from them without his counsel. O what
would the belief of this do to raise our hearts to suitable thoughts of
God above the creatures, to increase the fear, faith, and love of God, and
to abate from our fear of men, and our vain and unprofitable cares and
perplexities? How would you look upon the affairs of men,—the counsels,
contrivances, endeavours, and successes of men,—when they are turning
things upside down, and plotting the ruin of his people, and establishing
themselves alone in the earth? What would you think of all these
revolutions at this time? Many souls are astonished at them, and stand
gazing at what is done and to be done. And this is the very language of
your spirits and ways. The Lord hath forsaken the earth, the Lord seeth
not. This is the language of our parliaments and people. They do imagine
that they are doing their own business and making all sure for themselves.
But, O what would a soul think that could escape above them all, and arise
up to the first wheel of present motions! A soul that did stand upon the
exalted tower of the word of God, and looked off it by the prospect of
faith, would presently discover the circle in which all these wanderings
and changes are confined, and see men, states, armies, nations, and all of
them doing nothing but turning about in a round, as a horse in a mill,
from God’s eternal purpose, by his almighty power, to his unspeakable
glory. You might behold all these extravagant motions of the creatures,
inclosed within those limits, that they must begin here, and end here,
though themselves are so beastly that they neither know of whom nor for
whom their counsels and actions are. Certainly, Satan cannot break without
this compass, to serve his own humour. Principalities and powers cannot do
it. If they will not glorify him, he shall glorify himself by them, and
upon them.
Lecture XXI.
Of The First Covenant Made With Man
Gen. ii. 17.—“But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil,
thou shall not eat of it, for in the day that thou eatest thereof,
thou shalt surely die.”—Gen. i. 26.—“And God said, Let us make man
in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over
the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the
cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that
creepeth upon the earth.”
The state wherein man was created at first, you heard was exceeding
good,—all things very good, and he best of all, the choicest external and
visible piece of God’s workmanship, made according to the most excellent
pattern,—“after our image.” Though it be a double misery to be once happy,
yet seeing the knowledge of our misery is, by the grace of God, made the
entry to a new happiness, it is most necessary to take a view of what man
once was, that we may be more sensible of what he now is. You may take up
this image and likeness in three branches.
First, there was a sweet conformity of the soul in its understanding,
will, and affections unto God’s holiness and light,—a beautiful light in
the mind, derived from that fountain-light, by which Adam did exactly know
both divine and natural things. What a great difference doth yet appear
between a learned man and an ignorant rude person, though it be but in
relation to natural things! The one is but like a beast in comparison of
the other. O how much more was there between Adam’s knowledge and that of
the most learned! The highest advancement of art and industry in this life
reaches no further than to a learned ignorance of the mysteries in the
works of God, and yet there is a wonderful satisfaction to the mind in it.
But how much sweet complacency hath Adam had, whose heart was so enlarged
as to know both things higher and lower, their natures, properties, and
virtues, and several operations! No doubt could trouble him, no difficulty
vex him, no controversy or question perplex him, but above all, the
knowledge of that glorious and eternal Being, that gave him a being, and
infused such a spirit into him,—the beholding of such infinite treasures
of wisdom, and goodness, and power in him, what an amiable and refreshful
sight would it be, when there was no cloud of sin and ignorance to
interpose and eclipse the full enjoyment of that uncreated light! When the
aspect of the sun makes the moon so glorious and beautiful, what may you
conceive of Adam’s soul framed with a capacity to receive light
immediately from God’s countenance! How fair and beautiful would that
soul be, until the dark cloud of sin did interpose itself! Then consider,
what a beautiful rectitude and uprightness, what a comely order and
subordination would ensue upon this light, and make his will and
affections wonderfully good “God made man upright,” Eccles. vii. 29. There
was no thraw(152) or crack in all,—all the powers of the soul bending
upright towards that Fountain of all goodness. Now the soul is crooked and
bends downward towards those base earthly things that are the abasement of
the soul, then it looked upright towards God,—had no appetite, no delight
but in him and his fulness, and had the moon or changeable world under its
feet. There was a beauty of holiness and righteousness which were the
colours that did perfect and adorn those lineaments of the image of God
which knowledge did draw in the soul. “He was a burning and a shining
light,” may be truly said of Adam, who had as much life as light, as much
delight in God as knowledge of him. This was the right constitution and
disposition of man,—his head lifted up in holiness and love towards God,
his arms stretched out in righteousness and equity towards man and all the
affections of the man under their command, they could not trouble this sea
with any tempest, because they were under a powerful commander, who kept
them under such awe and obedience as the centurion his servants—saying to
one, Go, and he goeth, and to another, Come, and he cometh, sending out
love one way, holy hatred another way. These were as wings to the bird to
flee upon, as wheels to the chariot to run upon, though now it be turned
just contrary, that the chariot draws the coachman, because the motion is
downward. There could be no motion in an upright man’s soul till the holy
and righteous will gave out a sentence upon it. That was the _primum
mobile_ which was turned about itself by such an _intelligentia_ as the
understanding. And so it was in Christ,—affection could not move him, but
he did move his own affections, he troubled himself. In us the servant
rides on horses, and the prince walks on foot, even as in a distempered
society, the laws and ordinances proceed by an unnatural way from the
violence of unruly subjects usurping over their masters. Holy and
righteous man could both raise up his affections, and compose them again,
they were under such nurture and discipline. He could have said, Hitherto,
and no further, in which there was some resemblance of God ruling the
raging and unruly sea. But now, if once they get entry into our city, they
are more powerful than the governor, and will not take laws from him, but
give him rather. When we have given way to our passions, they do next what
they please, not what we permit.
Next his excellency consisted in such an immunity and freedom from all
fear of misery and danger, from all touch of sorrow or pain, and did enjoy
such a holy complacency and delight in his own estate, as made him
completely happy. In this he was like God. This is his blessedness, that
he is absolutely well pleased in himself, that he is without the reach of
fear and danger, that none can impair it, none can match it. “I am God and
none else,” that is sufficiency of delight to know himself, and his own
sufficiency. Indeed, man was made changeable, mutably good, that in this
he might know God was above him, and so might have ground of watchfulness
and dependence upon him for continuance of his happiness who made him
happy. But being made so upright, no disquieting fear nor perplexing care
could trouble him. Then lastly, if you add unto this, holy satisfaction
with his own state and freedom, the dominion and sovereignty he had over
the creatures as a consequent flowing from that image, you may imagine
what a happy creature he was. Whatsoever contentment or satisfaction the
creatures could afford, all of them willingly and pleasantly would concur
to bestow it upon man, without his care or toil, as if they had accounted
it then happiness to serve him. What more excellent than this order? Man
counting it his happiness and delight to serve God and creatures esteeming
it their happiness to serve man, all things running towards him with all
their goodness, as to a common centre, and he returning all to God, from
whence they did immediately flow. Thus, besides the fulness and riches of
God’s goodness immediately conferred upon man, he was enriched with all
the store and goodness that the earth was full of.
God having made man thus and furnished him after this manner, he gave him
a law, and then he made a covenant with him. There was a law first
imprinted into Adam, and then a law prescribed unto him. There was a law
written in his heart, the remainder of which Paul saith makes the Gentiles
“inexcusable,” but it was perfectly drawn in him. All the principles and
notions of good and evil were exactly drawn in it. He had a natural
discerning of them, and a natural inclination to all good, and aversion
from all evil, as there is a kind of law imposed by God upon other
creatures, which they constantly keep and do not swerve from, even his
decree and commandment, to the obedience of which they are composed and
framed. The sea hath a law and command to flow and ebb, and it is that
command that breaks its proud waves on the sand, when they threaten to
overflow mountains. The beasts obey a law, written in their natures, of
eating and drinking, of satisfying their senses, and every one hath its
several instinct and propension to several operations, so God gave a more
noble instinct unto man, suitable to his reasonable soul,—an instinct and
impulse to please God, in such duties of holiness and righteousness, a
sympathy with such ways of integrity and godliness, and an innate
antipathy against such ways as were displeasing to him or dishonourable to
the creature. There is a kind of comeliness and sweet harmony and
proportion between such works, as the love of God and man, the use of all
for his glory, of whom all things are, and man’s reasonable being. Such a
thing doth suit and become it. Again, other things, as the hatred of God
and men, neglect and forgetfulness of him, drunkenness and abasing lusts
of that kind, do disagree, and are indecent to it. O how happy was Adam,
when holiness and righteousness were not written on tables of stone, but
on his heart, and when there was no need of external persuasion, but there
was an inward impulse, inclining him strongly, and laying a kind of sweet
necessity upon him to that which was both his duty to God and men and his
own dignity and privilege! This was, no question, the very beauty of his
soul—to be not only under a law proper and peculiar to himself, but to be
inwardly framed and moulded to it—to be a living law unto himself.
But besides this inward imprinted law of holiness and righteousness, which
did without more rules direct and determine him to that which is in itself
good, it pleased the Lord to prescribe and impose a positive law unto him,
to command him abstinence from a thing neither good nor evil, but
indifferent, and such a thing as of itself he might have done as well as
made use of any other creature. There was no difference between the fruit
which was discharged him, and the fruit of the rest of the garden, there
was nothing in it did require abstinence, and nothing in him either. Yet
for most wise and holy ends, the Lord enjoins him to abstain from that
fruit, and puts an act of restraint upon him, to abridge his liberty in
that which might prove his obedience, and not hinder his happiness, or
diminish it, because he furnished him abundantly beside. You may perceive
two reasons of it. One is, that the sovereign power and dominion of God
over all men, may be more eminently held forth, and that visibly in such a
symbol and sign. He who put man in such a well furnished house, and placed
him in a plentiful and fruitful garden, reserves one tree, “thou shalt not
eat thereof,” to let Adam see and know, that he is the sovereign owner of
all things, and that his dominion over the creatures and their service
unto him, was not so much for any natural prerogative of man above them,
as out of divine bounty and indulgence, because he had chosen a creature
to himself to beautify and make happy. This was a standing visible
testimony, to bring man continually to remembrance of his sovereignty,
that being thus far exalted above other creatures, he might know himself
to be under his Creator, and that he was infinitely above him, that he
might remember his own homage and subjection to God, whenever he looked
upon his dominion over the creatures. And truly in other natural duties
which an inward principle and instinct drives unto, the suitableness and
conveniency or beauty of the thing doth often preponderate, and might make
man to observe them without so much regard of the will and pleasure of the
Most High. But in this the Lord would have _no other reason of obedience
to appear but his own absolute will and pleasure_, to teach all men to
consider in their actings rather the will of the commander than the
goodness or use of the thing commanded. And then, for this reason, it was
enjoined to make a more exact trial, and to take a more ample proof of
Adam’s obedience. Oftentimes we do things commanded of God, but upon what
ground or motive? Because our own interest lies in them,—because there is
an inward weight and _pondus_ of affection pressing us to them. The Lord
commands the mutual duties between parents and children, between man and
wife, between friends, duties of self-preservation and defence, and such
like, and many are very exact and diligent in performing these, but from
what principle? It is easy to discern. Not because they are commanded of
God,—not so much as a thought of that for the most part,—but because of an
inward and natural inclination of affection towards ourselves and our
relations, which is like an instinct and an impulse driving us to those
duties. And truly we may say, it is the goodness and bounty of the Lord
that hath conjoined in most parts of commanded duties our own interest and
advantage, our own inclination and propension with his authority, or else
the toil and pain of them would overbalance the weight of his authority.
Now then, in such duties as are already imprinted on man’s heart, and
consonant to his own reason, there cannot be a clear proof of obedience to
God’s will. The pure and naked nature of obedience doth not so clearly
shine forth in the observation of these. It is no great trial of the
creature’s subjection of its will to his supreme will, when there are so
many reasons besides his will, which may incline man’s will unto it. But
here, in a matter in itself pleasant to the senses, unto which he had a
natural inclination, the Lord interposes himself by a command of
restraint, to take full probation whether man would submit to his good
pleasure merely for itself, or whether he would obey merely because God
commands. And indeed in such like duties as have no commendation but from
the will and authority of the lawgiver, it will appear whether man’s
obedience be pure and simple obedience, and whether men love obedience for
itself alone, or for other reasons. Therefore the Lord saith, Obedience is
better than sacrifice, and disobedience is rebellion. Suppose, in such
things as can neither hurt us nor help us, God put a restraint upon
us—though obedience may be of less worth than in other more substantial
things, yet disobedience in such easy matters is most heinous, because it
proclaims open rebellion against God. If it be light and easy, it is more
easily obeyed, and the more sin and wickedness in disobeying; and
therefore is Adam’s sin called “disobedience” in a signal manner, (Rom. v.
19,) because, by refusing such a small point of homage and subjection, he
did cast off God’s power and authority over him, and would not acknowledge
him for his superior. This should teach us, who believe the repairing of
that image by Jesus Christ, to study such a respect and reverence to God’s
holy will as to do all things without more asking why it is so. If we once
know what it is, there is no more question to be asked. Of creatures we
must inquire a _quare_ after a _quid_,—a why, after we know what their
will is. But Christians should have their wills so subdued unto God’s,
that though no profit nor advantage were to redound by obedience, though
it were in things repugnant and cross to our inclination and humour, yet
we should serve and obey him as a testimony of our homage and subjection
to him. And till we learn this, and be more abstracted from our own
interests in the ways of obedience, even from the interests of peace, and
comfort, and liberty, we do not obey him because he commands, but for our
own sakes. It is the practice of Antinomians, and contrary to true
godliness, to look upon the law of God as the creature’s bondage, as most
of us do in our walking. A Christian, in whom the image of God is renewed
according to righteousness and holiness, should esteem subjection and
conformity to a law, and to the will of God, his only true liberty, yea,
the very beauty of the soul; and never is a soul advanced in conformity to
God, till this be its delight, not a burden or task.
Lecture XXII.
Of The First Covenant.
Gal. iii. 12.—“The law is not of faith; but the man that doeth
them shall live in them.”—Gen. ii. 17.—“But of the tree of the
knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it; for in the
day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die.”
The Lord made all things for himself, to show forth the glory of his name;
and man in a more eminent and special manner, for more eminent
manifestations of himself; therefore all his dealings towards men, whether
righteous or sinful, do declare the glory of God. Particularly, in
reference to the present purpose, he resolved to manifest two shining
properties,—his sovereignty and goodness. His sovereignty is showed, in
giving out a law and command to the creature; and his goodness is
manifested in making a covenant with his creature; as here you see the
terms of a covenant, a duty required, and a promise made, and, in case of
failing, a threatening conformed to the promise. He might have required
obedience simply, as the Lord and sovereign owner of the being and
operations of the creatures; and that was enough of obligation to bind all
flesh, that the Creator is lawgiver, that he who gives a being doth set
bounds and limits to the exercise and use of that being. But it pleased
the Lord, in his infinite goodness and love, to add a promise and
threatening to that law and command, and so turns it to the nature of a
voluntary covenant and agreement, whereby he doth mitigate and sweeten his
authority and power, and condescends so low to man as to take on himself a
greater obligation than he puts upon man, “Do this, and thou shalt live.”
He might then, out of his absoluteness and power, have required at the
creature’s hand any terms he pleased, even the hardest which could be
imagined, and yet no injustice in him. He might have put laws on men to
restrain all their natural liberty, and in every thing, to proclaim
nothing but his own supremacy. But O what goodness and condescension is
even in the very matter of the law; and then in the manner of prescribing
it with a promise! In the matter, so just and equitable to convince all
men’s consciences, yea, even engraven on their hearts, that he lays not
many burdens on, but what men’s consciences must lay on themselves; that
there is nothing in it all, when summed up, harder than this,—love God
most of all, and thy neighbour as thyself, which all men must proclaim to
be due, though it had not been required; and but one precept added by his
mere will, which yet was so easy a thing, as it was a wonder the Lord of
all put no other conditions on the creatures. And then for the manner;
that it is propounded covenant-wise, with a promise, not to expect the
creature’s consent—for it did not depend on his acceptation, he being
bound to accept any terms his Lord propounded—but because the matter and
all was so equitable, and the conditions so ample, that if it had been
propounded to any rational man, he would have consented with an admiration
at God’s goodness. Indeed, if we speak strictly, there cannot be a proper
covenant between God and man,—there is such an infinite distance between
such unequal parties, our obedience and performance being absolutely in
his power. We cannot promise it as our own, and it being but our duty, we
cannot crave or expect a reward in justice, neither can he owe any thing
to the creature. Yet it pleased his majesty to propound it in these terms,
and to stoop so low unto men’s capacities, and, as it were, come off the
throne of his sovereignty, both to require such duties of men, and to
promise unto them such a free reward. And the reasons of this may be plain
upon God’s part and upon ours. In such dealing, he consulted his own
glory, and man’s good. His own glory, I say, is manifested in it, and
chiefly the glory of his goodness and love, that the Most High comes down
so low as to article with his own footstool, that he changes his absolute
right into a moderate and temperate government, and tempers his lordly and
truly monarchical power by such a commixture of gentleness and goodness,
in requiring nothing but what man behoved to call reasonable and due, and
in promising so much as no creature could challenge any title to it. When
the law was promulgated, “Do this,” eat not of this tree, Adam’s
conscience behoved to say, “Amen, Lord; all is due, all the reason in the
world for it.” But when the promise is added, and the trumpet sounds
longer, “Thou shalt live!” O more than reason, more than is due, must his
conscience say! It was reason, that the most high Lord should use his
footstool as his footstool, and set his servant in the place of a servant,
and so keep distance from him. But how strange is it that he humbles
himself to make friendship with man, to assume him in a kind of
familiarity and equality? And this Christ is not forgetful of. When he
restores men, he puts them in all their former dignities; “I call you not
servants but friends.” Next, his wisdom doth appear in this, that when he
had made a reasonable creature, he takes a way of dealing, suitable to his
nature, to bring forth willing and free obedience by the persuasion of
such a reward, and the terror of such a punishment. He most wisely did
enclose the will of man, as it were, on both sides, with hedges of
punishment and reward, which might have been a sufficient defence or guard
against all the irruptions of contrary persuasions, that man might
continue in obedience, and that when he went to the right hand or left, he
might be kept in, by the hope of such an ample promise, and the fear of
such a dreadful threatening. But then the righteousness of God doth appear
in this; for there is nothing doth more illustrate the justice of the
judge, than when the malefactor hath before consented to such a punishment
in case of transgression, when the law is confirmed by the consent and
approbation of man. Now he has man subscribing already to his judgment,
and so all the world must stop their mouth and become guilty in case of
transgression of such a righteous command after such warning.
But, in the next place, it is no less for man’s good. What an honour and
dignity was put upon man, when he was taken into friendship with God! To
be in covenant of friendship with a king, O what a dignity is it
accounted! And some do account it a great privilege to be in company, and
converse with some eminent and great person. But may not men say with the
Psalmist, Lord, “what is man that thou art mindful of him, or the son of
man that thou visitest him?” Psal. viii. Again, what way more fit and
suitable to stir up and constrain Adam unto a willing and constant
obedience, when he had the encouragement of such a gracious reward, and
the determent of such a fearful punishment? Between these two banks might
the silver streams of obedience have run for ever without breaking over.
He was bound to all, though nothing had been promised. But then to have
such a hope, what spirits might it add to him? The Lord had been free,
upon man’s obedience, either to continue him his happy estate, or to
denude him of it, or to annihilate him. There was no obligation lying on
him. But now, what confirmation might man have by looking upon the certain
recompense of reward—when God brings himself freely under an obligation of
a promise, and so ascertains it to his soul, which he could never have
dreamed of, and gives him liberty to challenge him upon his faithfulness
to perform it!
And then, lastly, There was no way so fit to commend God, and sweeten him
unto his soul as this. Adam knew that his goodness could not extend to
God; that his righteousness could not help him, nor his wickedness hurt
him, and so could expect nothing from his exact obedience. But now, when
God’s goodness doth so overflow upon the creature, and the Lord takes
pleasure to communicate himself to make others happy, though he had need
of none, O how must it engage the heart of man to a delightful
remembrance, and converse with that God! As his authority should imprint
reverence, so his goodness thus manifested should engrave confidence. And
thus the life of man was not only a life of obedience, but a life of
pleasure and delight; not only a holy, but a happy life, yea, happy in
holiness.
Now, as it was Paul’s great business in preaching, to ride marches between
the covenant of grace, and the covenant of works,—to take men off that old
broken ship to this sure plank of grace that is offered by Jesus Christ to
drowning souls,—so it would be our great work to show unto you the nature
of this covenant, and the terms thereof, that you may henceforth find and
know that salvation to be now impossible by the law which so many seek in
it. We have no errand to speak of the first Adam, but the better to lead
you to the second. Our life was once in the first, but he lost himself and
us both; but the second, by losing himself, saves both. We have nothing to
do to speak of the first covenant, but that we may lead you, or pursue you
rather to the second, established on better terms and better promises.
The terms of this covenant are,—Do this and live. Perfect obedience
without one jot of failing or falling,—an entire and universal
accomplishment of the whole will of God,—that is the duty required of man.
There is no latitude left in the bargain to admit endeavours instead of
performance, or desire instead of duty. There is no place for repentance
here. If a man fail in one point, he falls from the whole promise; by the
tenor of this bargain, there is no hope of recovery. If you would have the
duty in a word, it is a love of God with all our heart and soul, and our
neighbour as ourselves; and that testified and verified in all duties and
offices of obedience to God, and love to men, without the least mixture of
sin and infirmity. Now, the promise on God’s part is indeed larger than
that duty, not only because undeserved, but even in the matter of it, it
is so abundant,—life, eternal life, continuance in a happy estate. There
is a threatening added, “In the day thou eatest thou shalt surely die;”
that is, thou shalt become a mortal and miserable creature, subject to
misery here and hereafter; which is more pressingly set down in that word,
“Cursed is he that abideth not in all things written in the law to do
them.” It is very peremptory; that men dream not of escaping wrath when
they break but in one, suppose they did abide in all the rest. Cursed is
every man from the highest to the lowest; the Lord Almighty is engaged
against him. His countenance, his power is against him, to destroy him and
make him miserable. Whoever doth fail but in one jot of the commands, he
shall not only fall from that blessed condition freely promised, but lose
all that he already possessed, fall from that image of God, dominion over
the creatures, and incur, instead of that possessed and expected
happiness, misery here on soul and body, in pains, sicknesses, troubles,
griefs, &c., and eternal misery on both, without measure,
hereafter,—“eternal destruction from the presence of the Lord, and the
glory of his power.”
Now, “the law is not of faith,” saith the apostle. This opens up the
nature of the bargain; and the opposition between the present covenant and
that which is made with lost sinners with a Mediator. This covenant is
called, of works, “Do this, and live;” _to him that worketh is the promise
made, though freely too_. It is grace, that once a reward should be
promised to obedience; but having once resolved to give it, herein justice
appears in an equal and uniform distribution of the reward, according to
works; so that where there is an equality of works there shall be an
equality of reward, and no difference put between persons equal; which is
the very freedom of the covenant of grace, that it passes over all such
considerations, and deals equally in mercy with unequal sinners, and
unequally, it may be, with them that are equal in nature.
You may ask, was not Adam to believe in God and did not the law require
faith? I answer, Christ distinguishes a twofold faith: “You believe in
God, believe also in me.” No question he was called to believe in God the
creator of the world, and that in a threefold consideration.
First, to depend on God the self-being and fountain-good. His own goodness
was but a flux and emanation from that Sun of Righteousness, and so was to
be perpetuated by constant abiding in his sight. The interposition of
man’s self between him and God did soon bring on this eternal night of
darkness. Nature might have taught him to live in him in whom he had life
and being and motion, and to forget and look over his own perfections as
evanishing shadows. But this quickly extinguished his life, when he began
to live in himself.
Next, he was obliged to believe God’s word, both threatening and promise,
and to have these constantly in his view. And certainly, if he had kept in
his serious consideration, the inestimable blessing of life promised, and
the fearful curse of death threatened,—if he had not been induced first to
doubt, and then to deny the truth and reality of these,—he had not
attempted such a desperate rebellion against the Lord.
Then, thirdly, he was to believe and persuade himself of the Lord’s
fatherly love, and that the Lord was well-pleased with his obedience; and
this faith would certainly beget much peace and quietness in his mind, and
also constrain him to love him, and live to him who loved him, and gave
him life and happiness out of love. Yet this holds true that the apostle
saith, “the law is not of faith,” to wit, in a Mediator and Redeemer. It
was a bond of immediate friendship; there needed none to mediate between
God and man; there needed no reconciler where there was no odds nor
distance. But the gospel is of faith in a Mediator; it is the soul
plighting its hope upon Jesus Christ in its desperate necessity, and so
supposes man sinful and miserable in himself, and in his own sense too,
and so putting over his weight and burden upon one whom God hath made
mighty to save. The law is not of faith, but of perfect works,—a
watch-word brought in of purpose to bring men off their hankering after a
broken and desperate covenant. It admits no repentance, it speaks of no
pardon, it declares no cautioner or redeemer. There is nothing to be
expected, according to the tenor of that covenant, but wrath from heaven;
either personal obedience in all, or personal punishment for ever. That is
the very terms of it, and it knows no other thing. Either bring complete
righteousness and holiness to the promise of life, or expect nothing but
death.
This may be a sad meditation to us, to stand and look back to our former
estate, and compare it with that into which we are fallen. That image we
spoke of, is defaced and blotted out, which was the glory of the creation;
and now there is nothing so monstrous, so deformed in the world as man.
The corruption of the best things is always worst; the ruins of the most
noble creature are most ruinous; the spot of the soul most abominable. We
are nothing but a mass of darkness, ignorance, error, inordinate lust;
nothing but confusion, disorder, and distempers in the soul, and in the
conversation of men; and, in sum, that blessed bond of friendship with God
broken, discord and enmity entered upon our side and separated us from
God, and so we can expect nothing from that first covenant but the curse
and wrath threatened. “By one man’s disobedience” sin entered upon all,
“and death by sin;” because in that agreement Adam was a common person
representing us, and thus are all men once subject to God’s judgment, and
come short of the glory of God, fallen from life into a state of death,
and, for any thing that could be expected, irrecoverably. But it hath
pleased the Lord, in his infinite mercy, to make a better covenant in
Christ his Son, that, what was impossible to the law, by reason of our
weakness and wickedness, his Son, sent in the flesh, condemned for sin,
might accomplish, Rom. viii. 3. There is some comfort yet after this; that
covenant was not the last, and that sentence was not irrevocable. He makes
a new transaction, lays the iniquity of his elect upon Christ, and puts
the curse upon his shoulders which was due to them. Justice cannot admit
the abrogation of the law, but mercy pleads for a temperament of it. And
thus the Lord dispenses with personal satisfaction, which in rigour he
might have craved; and finds out a ransom, admits another satisfaction in
their name. And in the name of that Cautioner and Redeemer is salvation
preached upon better terms: Believe and thou shalt be saved, Rom. x. 9.
Thou lost and undone sinner, whoever thou art, that findest thyself guilty
before God, and that thou canst not stand in judgment by the former
covenant,—thou who hast no personal righteousness, and trustest in
none,—come here, embrace the righteousness of thy Cautioner,—receive him,
and rest on him, and thou shalt be saved.
Lecture XXIII.
Of The State Wherein Man Was Created, And How The Image Of God Is Defaced.
Eccl. vii. 29.—“Lo, this only have I found, that God hath made man
upright; but they have sought out many inventions.”
The one half of true religion consists in the knowledge of ourselves, the
other half in the knowledge of God; and whatever besides this men study to
know and apply their hearts unto, it is vain and impertinent, and like
meddling in other men’s matters, neglecting our own, if we do not give our
minds to the search of these. All of us must needs grant this in the
general, that it is an idle and unprofitable wandering abroad, to be
carried forth to the knowledge and use of other things, and in the mean
time to be strangers to ourselves, with whom we should be most acquainted.
If any man was diligent and earnest in the inquiry and use of the things
in the world, Solomon was. He applied his heart to seek out wisdom, and
what satisfaction was in the knowledge of all things natural; and in this
he attained a great degree beyond all other men. Yet he pronounces of it
all after experience and trial, that “this also is vanity and vexation of
spirit,”—not only empty and unprofitable, and not conducing to that true
blessedness he sought after,—but hurtful and destructive, nothing but
grief and sorrow in it. After he had proved all, with a resolution to be
wise, yet it was far from him; “I said, I will be wise, but it was far
from me,” ver. 23. And therefore, after long wandering abroad, he returns
at length home to himself, to know the estate of mankind. “Lo, this only
have I found, that God hath made man upright; but they have sought out
many inventions.” When I have searched all other things, and found many
things by search, yet, says he, what doth it all concern me, when I am
ignorant of myself? There is one thing concerns me more than all,—to know
the original of man, what he once was made, and to know how far he is
departed from his original. This only I have found profitable to men: and
as the entry and preparation to that blessedness I inquire for,—to have
the true discovery of our misery.
There are two things, then, concerning man, that you have to search and to
know; and that not in a trifling or curious manner, as if you had no other
end in it but to know it as men do in other things, but in a serious and
earnest way, as in a matter of so much concernment to our eternal
well-being. In things that relate particularly to ourselves, we labour to
know them for some advantage besides the knowing of them, even though they
be but small and lower things; how much more should we propose this unto
ourselves in the search and examination of our own estate, not merely to
know such a thing, but so to know it that we may be stirred up and
provoked in the sense of it to look after the remedy that God holds forth.
There are two things that you have to know,—what man once was made, and
how he is now unmade; how happy once, and how miserable now. And
answerable to these two, are branches of the text: “God made man upright;”
that he was once; “and they have sought out many inventions;” not being
contented with that blessedness they were created into, by catching at a
higher estate of wisdom, have fallen down into a gulf of misery; as the
man that gazed on the stars above him, and did not take notice of the pit
under his feet till he fell into it; and thus man is now. So you have a
short account of the two estates of men; of the estate of grace and
righteousness without sin, and the estate of sin and misery without grace.
You have the true story of man from the creation unto his present
condition; but all the matter is to have the lively sense of this upon our
hearts. I had rather that we went home bewailing our loss, and lamenting
our misery, and longing for the recovery of that blessedness, than that we
went out with the exact memory of all that is spoken, and could repeat it
again.
“God made man upright.” At his first moulding, the Lord showed excellent
art and wisdom, and goodness too. Man did come forth from under his hand
in the first edition very glorious, to show what he could do; upright,
that is, all right and very exactly conformed to the noble and high
pattern,—endued with divine wisdom, such as might direct him to true
happiness,—and furnished with a divine willingness to follow that
direction. The command was not above his head as a rod, but within his
heart as a natural instinct. All that was within him was comely and
beautiful; for that glorious light that shined upon him, having life and
love with it, produced a sweet harmony in the soul. He knew his duty, and
loved it, and was able to perform it. O how much is in this one word
“upright!” Not only sincerity and integrity in the soul, but perfection of
all the degrees and parts; no part of holiness wanting, and no measure of
those parts; no mixture of darkness or ignorance,—no mixture of
indisposition or unwillingness. Godliness was sweet and not laborious. The
love of God, possessing the heart, did conform all within and without to
the will of God; and O how beautiful was that conformity! And that love of
God, the fountain-being, did send forth, as a stream, love and good-will
to all things, as they did partake of God’s image; and so holiness towards
God did beget righteousness towards men, and made men to partake of one
another’s happiness.
This is a survey of him in his integrity as God made him, but there
follows a sad “but,”—a sad and woful exception,—“but they have sought many
inventions.” We cannot look upon that glorious estate whereunto man was
made, but straightway we must turn our eyes upon that misery into which he
hath plunged himself, and be the more affected with it, that it was once
otherwise. It is misery in a high degree to have been once happy. This
most of all aggravates our misery, and may increase the sense of it, that
such man once was, and such we might have been, if we had not destroyed
ourselves. Who can look upon these ruins, and refrain mourning? It is
said, that those who saw the glory of the first temple, wept when they
beheld the second, because it was not answerable to it in magnificence and
glory; so, I say, it might occasion much sadness and grief, even to the
children of God, in whom that image is in part repaired, and that by a
second creation, to think how much more happy and blessed man once was,
who had grace and holiness without sin. But certainly, it should and must
be at first, before this image be restored, the bitter lamentation of a
soul, to look upon itself wholly ruinous and defaced, in the view of that
glorious stately fabric which once was made. How lamentable a sight is it
to behold the first temple demolished, or the first creation defaced, and
the second not yet begun in many souls, the foundation-stone not yet laid!
It was a sad and doleful invention which Satan inspired at first into
man’s heart, to go about to find out another happiness,—to seek how to be
wise as God, an invention that did proceed from hell,—how to know evil
experimentally and practically by doing it! That invention hath invented
and found out all the sin and misery under which the world groans. It is a
poor invention to devise misery and torment to the creature. This was the
height of folly and madness, for a happy creature to invent how to make
itself miserable and all others. Indeed, he intended another thing—to be
more happy, but pride and ambition got a deserved fall, the result of all
is sin and misery.
And now from the first devilish invention, the heart of man is possessed
with a multitude of vain imaginations. Man is now become vain in his
imaginations, and his foolish heart is darkened. That divine wisdom he was
endued withal is eclipsed, for it was a ray of God’s countenance, and now
he is left wholly in the dark without a guide, without a director or
leader. He is turned out of the path of holiness, and so of happiness. A
night of gross darkness and blindness is come on, and the way is full of
pits and snares, and the end of it is at best eternal misery. And there is
no lamp, no light to shine on it, to show him either the misery that he is
posting unto, or the happiness that he is fleeing from. There is nothing
within him sufficient to direct his way to blessedness, and nothing
willing or able to follow such a direction. And thus man is left to the
invention and counsel of his own desperately wicked and deceitful heart,
and that is above all plagues, to be given up to a reprobate mind. He is
now left to such a tutor and guider, and it is full of inventions indeed.
But they are all in vain, that is, all of them insufficient for this great
purpose. All of them cannot make one hair that is black, white, much less
redeem the soul. But besides, they are destructive. They pretend to
deliver, but they destroy. A desperate wicked heart imagineth evil
continually, evil against God, and evil to our own souls. And a deceitful
heart smooths over the evil, and presents it under another notion, and so,
under pretence of a friend, it is the greatest enemy a man hath,—a
bosom-enemy. All men’s inventions, thoughts, cogitations, projects, and
endeavours, what do they tend to but to the satisfaction of their
lusts,—either the lusts of the mind, as ambition, pride, avarice, passion,
revenge, and such like,—or the lust of the body, as pleasure to the ears
and eyes, and to the flesh? Man was made with an upright soul, with a
dominion over that brutish part, more like angels, but now, all his
invention runs upon that base and beastly part, how to adorn it, how to
beautify it, how to satisfy it, and for this his soul must be a drudge and
slave. And if men rise up to any thoughts of a higher life, yet what is it
for, but to magnify and exalt the flesh—to seek an excellency within,
which is lost, and so to satisfy the pride and self-love of the heart. If
any man comes this length, as to apprehend some misery, yet how vain are
his inventions about the remedy of it. Not knowing how desperate the
disease is, men seek help in themselves, and think, by industry and care
and art, to raise them up in some measure, and please God by some
expiations or sacrifices of their own works. Now, this tends to no other
purpose but to satisfy the lusts of man’s pride, and so it increases that
which was man’s first malady, and keeps them from the true physician. In a
word, all man’s inventions are to hasten misery on him, or to blindfold
himself till it come on; all his invention cannot reach a delivery from
this misery. Let us therefore consider this which Solomon hath found out,
and if we carefully consider it, and accurately ponder it in relation to
our own souls, then have we also found it with him. Consider, I say, what
man once was, and what you are now, and bewail your misery and the
fountain of it—our departure from the fountain of life and blessedness.
Know what you are, not only weak but wicked, whose art and power lies only
in wickedness, skilful and able only to make yourselves miserable. And let
this consideration make you cast away all your confidence in yourselves,
and carry you forth to a Redeemer who hath found a ransom—who hath found
out an excellent invention to cure all our distempers and desperate
diseases. The counsel of the Holy Trinity that met about—if I may so
speak—our creation in holiness and righteousness after his own image, that
same hath consulted about the rest of it, and hath found out this course,
that one of them shall be made after man’s image, and for this purpose,
that he may restore again God’s image unto us. O bless this deep invention
and happy contrivance of heaven, that could never have bred in any breast,
but in the depths of eternal wisdom, and let us abandon and forsake our
own vain imaginations, and foolish inventions! Let us become fools in our
own eyes, that we may become wise.
Man by seeking to be wise, became a fool, that was an unhappy invention.
Now it is turned contrary, let all men take with their folly and desperate
wickedness. Let not the vain thoughts and dreams of our own well being and
sufficiency lodge within us, and we shall be made wise. Come to the
Father’s wisdom,—unto Jesus Christ, who is that blessed invention of
heaven for our remedy. How long shall vain thoughts lodge within you? O
when will you be washed from them? How long shall not your thoughts
transcend this temporal and bodily life? How long do you imagine to live
in sin, and die in the Lord,—to continue in sin and escape wrath? Why do
you delude your souls with a dream of having interest in the love of God,
and purchasing his favour by your works? These are some of those many
inventions man hath sought out.
Lecture XXIV.
Of Sin By Imputation And Propagation.
Rom. v. 12.—“Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world,
and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all
have sinned.”
This is a sad subject to speak upon, yet it is not more sad than useful.
Though it be unpleasant to hold out a glass to men, to see their own vile
faces into, yet is it profitable, yea, and so necessary, that till once a
soul apprehend its broken and desolate condition in the first Adam, it can
never heartily embrace and come to the second Adam. You have here the
woful and dreadful effects and consequents of the first transgression upon
all mankind. The effect is twofold,—sin and misery, or sin and death. The
subject is universal in both,—“all men,” the whole world. Behold what a
flood of calamity hath entered at a small cranny—by one man’s
transgression! May it not be said of sin in general, what the wise man
speaks of strife,—“the beginning of” sin “is as when one letteth out
water?” Therefore it had been good leaving it oft before it had been
meddled with, it entered at a small hole, but it hath overflowed a whole
world since.
That which first occurs, is, that all mankind, proceeding from Adam by
ordinary birth are involved in sin by Adam’s transgression. But that may
seem a hard saying, that sin and death should flow unto the whole
posterity who had no accession to Adam’s transgression. It would seem,
that every man should die for his own iniquity, and that it should reach
no further injustice. But consider, I pray you, the relation that Adam
stood into, and in which he is here holden out as a figure of Christ.
Adam, the first man, was a common person, representing all mankind, in
whose happiness or misery all should share. God contracts with him on
these terms that his posterity’s estate should depend on his behaviour.
Now, if all mankind would have reaped the benefit and advantage of Adam’s
perseverance,—if such an undeserved reward of eternal life would have
redounded by the free promise unto them all,—what iniquity is it that they
also be sharers in his misery? Our stock and treasure was ventured in this
vessel, and if we were to partake of its gain, why not of its loss? You
see among men, children have one common lot with their parents. If the
father be forfeited, the heirs suffer in it, and are cast out of the
inheritance. It might appear a surer way to have the fortunes of all—so to
speak—depend upon one, and their happiness assured unto them upon the
standing of one, than to have every one left to himself, and his own
well-being depending upon his own standing, as it is more likely one, and
that the first one, shall not sin, than many; and especially when that one
knew that the weight of all his posterity hung upon him, it might have
made him very circumspect, knowing of how great moment his carriage was.
But certainly we must look a little higher than such reasons, there was a
glorious purpose of God’s predominant in this, else there was no natural
necessity of imputing Adam’s sin to the children not yet born, or
propagating it to the children. He that brought a holy One and undefiled
out of a virgin who was defiled, could have brought all others clean out
of unclean parents. But there is a higher counsel about it. The Lord would
have all men subject to his judgment,—all men once guilty, once in an
equal state of misery, to illustrate that special grace showed in Christ
the more, and demonstrate his power and wrath upon others. That which
concerns us most is to believe this, that sin hath overspread all, and to
have the lively impressions of this were of more moment to true religion
than many discourses upon it. I had rather you went home not cursing Adam,
or murmuring against the Most High, but bemoaning yourselves for your
wretched estate than be able to give reasons for the general imputation
and propagation of sin. You all see it is, and therefore you should rather
mourn for it than ask why it is.
There is “sin entered into the world” by imputation, and also by
propagation. Adam’s first sin and heinous transgression is charged upon
all his posterity, and imputed unto them, even unto them who have not
sinned according to “the similitude of Adam’s transgression,” that is,
actually as he did. Infants, whom you call innocents,—and indeed so they
are in respect of you, who are come to age,—yet they are guilty before God
of that sin that ruined all. Now, that ye may know what you are, and what
little reason you have to be pleased with yourselves, and absolve
yourselves as ye do, I shall unbowel that iniquity unto you. First, There
was in it an open banner displayed against God. When the sovereign Lord
had enjoined his creature such a testimony of his homage and loyalty, and
that so easy to be performed, and such as not a whit could abate from his
happiness, what open rebellion was it to refuse it! It was a casting off
the sovereign dominion of God, than which nothing can be more heinous, as
if the clay should refuse to serve the potter’s pleasure, and therefore it
is eminently and signally styled disobedience, as having nothing in it but
the pure naked nature of disobedience, no difficulty to excuse it, for it
was most easy, no pleasure to plead for it, for there were as good fruit
beside, and a world of them, no necessity to extenuate it, so that you can
see nothing in it but the ugly face of disobedience and rebellion, (ver.
19.) whereby man draweth himself from his allegiance due to his Maker, and
shaketh off the yoke in reproach of the Most High. Next, you may behold
the vile and abominable face of ingratitude and unthankfulness in it, and
truly heathens have so abhorred unthankfulness towards men, that they
could not digest the reproach of it,—_Ingratum si dixeris, omnia dixeris,_
if you call me unthankful, you may call me any thing or all things.(153)
It is a compend of all vices. It is even iniquity grown to maturity and
ripeness. But that such a fruit should grow out of such a holy and good
soil, so well dressed and manured by the Lord was a wonder! Lord, what was
man that thou didst so magnify him, and make him a little lower than the
angels,—that thou didst put all things sublunary under his feet, and exalt
him above them! For that creature chosen and selected from among all, to
be his minion, to stand in his presence, adorned and beautified with such
gifts and graces, magnified with such glorious privileges, made according
to the most excellent pattern, his own image, to forget all, and forget so
soon, and when he had such a spacious garden to make use of as is supposed
to make up the third part of the earth, to eat of no fruit but that which
was forbidden,—there is no such monstrous ingratitude can be imagined as
here was acted! But then consider the two fountains from which this
flowed, unbelief and pride, and you shall find it the heaviest sin in the
world,—unbelief of his word and threatening. First, he was brought to
question it, and to doubt of it, and then to deny it. A word so solemnly
and particularly told him by the truth itself, that ever a question of it
could arise in his mind or get entry, what else was it than to impute
iniquity to the holy One, and that iniquity, falsehood and lying, which
his nature most abhors? What was it but to blaspheme the most high and
faithful God, by hearkening to the suggestions of his enemy, and to credit
them more than the threatenings of God,—to give the very flat
contradiction to God,—we shall not die, and to assent so heartily to
Satan’s slanders and reproaches of God? And this unbelief opened a door to
ambition and pride, the most sacrilegious ingredient of all, which is most
opposite to God, and unto which he most opposed himself from the
beginning: “Ye shall be as gods.” Was he not happy enough already, and
according to God’s image? Nay, but this evil principle would arise up to
the throne of God, and sit down in his stead. Pride hath atheism in it; to
deny the true God, and yet would be a god itself! For the footstool to
lift up itself thus, what an indignity was it! And indeed this wretched
aim at so high an estate hath thrown us down as low as hell. You see then
how injurious this transgression was to God. There was disobedience and
rebellion in it, which denies his dominion and supremacy; there was
unthankfulness in it, denying his goodness and bounty; there was unbelief
in it, contradicting his truth and faithfulness; and finally, pride,
opposing itself to all that is in God, reaching up to his very crown of
Majesty to take it off. You see then what you are guilty of, in being
guilty of Adam’s transgression. Many of you flatter yourselves in your own
eyes that you have not done much evil, and you will justify yourselves in
your comparisons with others; but I beseech you, consider this, though you
had never done personally good or evil here, that which drowned the world
in misery is your sin, and charged upon you. You are guilty of that which
ruined all mankind, and makes the creation “subject to vanity” and
corruption. O if ye believe this, you would find more need of the second
Adam than you do! O how precious would his righteousness and obedience be
to you, if you had rightly apprehended your interest in the first man’s
disobedience!
But besides this imputation, there is much more propagated unto all, and
that is a total corruption and depravation of nature in soul and body,
whereby man is utterly indisposed, disabled, and made opposite unto all
that is truly and spiritually good, and wholly inclined to all evil, and
that continually, which is commonly called original sin,—a total
averseness from God and from all goodness, an antipathy against the ways
of holiness,—and a propension and strong impulse towards evil, even as a
stone moves downwards. This poison and contagion of sin entering into the
world hath infected all, and gone through all the members. Neither is it
any wonder that it is so, when this leprosy hath defiled the walls and
roof of the house,—I mean, hath made the creation “subject to vanity” and
corruption; it is no wonder that it spread abroad in his issue, and makes
all unclean like himself. And truly this is it which most abases man’s
nature, and, being seen, would most humble men. Yea, till this be
discerned, no man can be indeed humbled. He will never apprehend himself
so bad as he is, but still imagine some excellency in himself, till he see
himself in this glass. You talk of good natures, and good dispositions,
but in our flesh, saith the apostle, “dwelleth no good thing.” The seeds
of all wickedness are in every one of us; and it is the goodness of God
for preserving of human society, that they are restrained and kept down in
any from the grossest outbreakings. They know not themselves, who know any
good of themselves; and they know not themselves, who either are in
admiration at, or in bitterness or contempt against, other sinners, whose
sins are manifest to all. This were the only way to profit by looking on
their evils, if we could straightway retire within and behold the root of
that in ourselves, the fountain of it within us, and so grow in loathing,
not of those persons, but of human nature, and in suitable thoughts of
ourselves and others, and might wonder at the goodness and undeserved
bounty of the Lord, that passes an act of restraint upon our corruption,
and dams it up. O that we could learn to loathe ourselves in other men’s
evils! Thus we might reap good out of the evil, and prevent more in
ourselves. But the looking upon gross provocations as singularities, makes
them more general, because every man does not charge himself with the
corruption that is in all these, but prefers himself to another. Therefore
are reins loosed to corruption, and a sluice opened that it may come
out—that he who would not see his own image in another’s face, may behold
it in the glass of his own abominations. There is no point less believed
than this though generally confessed, that man is dead in sins and
trespasses, and impotent to help himself. You will hardly take with
wickedness when you confess weakness, as if nature were only sick, but not
dead,—hurt, but not killed. Therefore it is that so many do abide in
themselves, and trusting to their own good purposes and resolutions and
endeavours, do think to pacify God and help themselves out of their
misery. But O look again, and look in upon yourselves in the glass of the
word, and there is no doubt but you will straightway be filled with
confusion of face, and be altogether spoiled of good confidence and hope,
as you call it! You will find yourself plunged in a pit of misery, and all
strength gone, and none on the right hand, or the left to help you; and
then, and not till then, will the second Adam’s hand, stretched out for
help, be seasonable.
That which next follows is that which is the companion of sin
inseparably,—“Death hath passed upon all,” and that by sin. Adam’s one
disobedience opened a port for all sin to enter upon mankind, and sin
cannot enter without this companion, death. Sin goes before, and death
follows on the back of it; and these suit one another, as the work and the
wages, as the tree and the fruit. They have a fitness one to another.
Sowing to corruption reaps an answerable harvest, to wit, corruption.
Sowing to the wind, and reaping the whirlwind, how suitable are they! That
men may know how evil and bitter a thing sin is, he makes this the fruit
of it in his first law and sanction given out to men,—he joins them
inseparably,—sin and death, sin and wrath, sin and a curse. By death is
not only meant bodily death, which is the separation of the soul from the
body, but first the spiritual death of the soul, consisting in a
separation of the soul from God’s blessed, enlightening, enlivening, and
comforting countenance. Man’s true life, wherein he differs from beasts,
consists in the right aspect of God upon his soul,—in his walking with
God, and keeping communion with him. All things besides this are but
common and base, and this was cut off. His comfort, his joy and peace in
God extinct, God became terrible to his conscience; and therefore man did
flee and was afraid, when he heard his voice in the garden. Sin being
interposed between God and the soul, cut off all the influence of heaven.
Hence arises darkness of mind, hardness of heart, delusions, vile
affections, horrors of conscience. Look what difference is between a
living creature and a dead carcase, so much is between Adam’s soul,
upright, living in God, and Adam’s soul separated from God by sin. Then
upon the outward man the curse redounds. The body becomes mortal which had
been incorruptible. It is now like a besieged city. Now some outer forts
are gained by diseases, now by pains and torments; the outward walls of
the body are at length overcome; and when life hath fled into a castle
within the city, the heart, that is, last of all, besieged so straitly,
and stormed so violently, that it must render unto death upon any terms.
The body of man is even a seminary of a world of diseases and grievances,
that if men could look upon it aright, they might see the sentence of
death every day performed. Then how many evils in estate, in friends and
relations, in employments, which being considered by heathens, hath made
them praise the dead more than the living, but him not yet born most of
all, because the present life is nothing else but a valley of misery and
tears, a sea of troubles, where one wave continually prevents another, and
comes on like Job’s messengers; before one speaks out his woful tidings,
another comes with such like, or worse. But that which is the sum and
accomplishment of God’s curse and man’s misery is that death to
come,—eternal death,—not death simply, but an “everlasting destruction
from the presence of the Lord and the glory of his power;”—an infinite
loss, because the loss of such a glorious life in the enjoyment of God’s
presence; and an infinite hurt and torment beside, and both eternal.
Now this is what we would lay before you. You are under such a heavy
sentence from the womb, a sentence of the Almighty, adjudging you for
Adam’s guilt and your own, to all the misery in this world and in the
next,—to all the treasures of wrath that are heaped up against the day of
wrath. And strange it is, how we can live in peace, and not be troubled in
mind, who have so great and formidable a party! Be persuaded, O be
persuaded, that there shall not one jot of this be removed,—it must be
fulfilled in you or your cautioner! And why then is a Saviour offered, a
city of refuge opened, and secure sinners will not flee into it? But as
for as many as have the inward dreadful apprehension of this wrath to
come, and know not what to do, know that to you is Jesus Christ preached,
the second Adam, a quickening spirit, and in that consideration, better
than the first,—not only a living soul himself, but a spirit to quicken
you who are dead in sins,—one who hath undertaken for you, and will hold
you fast. Adam, who should have kept us, lost himself; Christ in a manner
lost himself to save us. And as by Adam’s disobedience all this sin and
misery hath abounded on man, know, that the second Adam’s obedience and
righteousness are of greater virtue and efficacy to save and instead of
sin to restore righteousness, and instead of death to give life. Therefore
you may come to him, and you shall be more surely kept than before.
Lecture XXV.
Of The Way Of Man’s Delivery.
1 Tim. i. 15—“This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all
acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save
sinners.”
Of all doctrines that ever were published to men, this contained here is
the choicest, as you see the very preface prefixed to it imports. And
truly, as it is the most excellent in itself, it could not but be sweet
unto us, if we had received into the heart the belief of our own
wretchedness and misery. I do not know a more sovereign cordial for a
fainting soul, than this faithful saying, “That Christ Jesus came into the
world to save sinners.” And therefore we are most willing to dwell on this
subject, and to inculcate it often upon you, that without him you are
undone and lost, and in him you may be saved. I profess, all other
subjects, howsoever they might be more pleasing to some hearers, are
unpleasant and unsavoury to me. This is that we should once learn, and
ever be learning—to know him that came to save us, and come to him.
We laboured to show unto you the state of sin and misery that Adam’s first
transgression hath subjected all mankind unto, which if it were really and
truly apprehended, I do not think but it would make this saying welcome to
your souls. Man being plunged into such a deep pit of misery, sin and
death having overflowed the whole world, and this being seen and
acknowledged by a sinner, certainly the next question in order of nature
is this, hath God left all to perish in this estate? Is there any remedy
provided for sin and misery? And this will be indeed the query of a
self-condemned sinner. Now there is a plank after this broken ship; there
is an answer sweet and satisfactory to this question; “Christ Jesus came
into the world to save sinners.”
We shall not expatiate into many notions about this, or multiply many
branches of this. The matter is plain and simple, and we desire to hold
out plainly and simply, that this is the remedy of sin and misery. When
none could be found on the right hand or left hand, here a Saviour from
heaven comes down from above, whence no good could be expected, because a
good God was provoked. “Can there any good thing come out of
Nazareth?”—that was a proverb concerning him. But I think in some sense it
might be said, Can any good come down from heaven, from his holy
habitation to this accursed earth? Could any thing be expected from heaven
but wrath and vengeance? And if no good could be expected that way, what
way could it come? Sure if not from heaven, then from no airth.(154) Yet
from heaven our help is come, from whence it could not be looked for,—even
from him who was offended, and whose justice was engaged against man. That
he might both satisfy justice and save man,—that he might not wrong
himself nor destroy man utterly,—he sends his only begotten Son, equal
with himself in majesty and glory, into the world, in the state of a
servant, to accomplish man’s salvation, and perform to him satisfaction.
Therefore Christ came into the world to save sinners.
There were two grand impediments in the way of man’s salvation, which made
it impossible to man; one is God’s justice, another is man’s sin. These
two behoved to be satisfied or removed, ere there can be access to save a
sinner. The sentence of divine justice is pronounced against all mankind,
“death passed upon all,”—a sentence of death and condemnation. Now, when
the righteousness and faithfulness of God is engaged unto this, how strong
a party do you think that must be? What power can break that prison of a
divine curse, and take out a sinner from under Justice’s hand? Certainly
there is no coming out till the uttermost farthing be paid that was
owing,—till complete satisfaction be given for all wrongs. Now, truly, the
redemption of the soul had ceased for ever—it is so precious that no
creature can give any thing in exchange for it—except Jesus Christ had
come into the world, one that might be able to tread that wine-press of
wrath alone, and give his life a ransom, in value far above the soul, and
pay the debt of sin that we were owing to God. And, indeed, he was
furnished for this purpose, a person suited and fitted for such a work—a
man, to undertake it in our name, and God, to perform it in his own
strength—a man, that he might be made under the law, and be humbled even
to the death of the cross, that so he might obey the commandment, and
suffer the punishment due to us; and all this was elevated beyond the
worth of created actions or sufferings, by that divine nature. This
perfumed all his humanity, and all done by it, or in it. This put the
stamp of divinity upon all, and imposed an infinite value upon the coin of
finite obedience and sufferings. And so in his own person, by coming into
the world, and acting and suffering in the place of sinners, he hath taken
the first great impediment out of the way; taken down the high wall of
divine justice which had enclosed round about the sinner, and satisfied
all its demands, by paying the price; so that there is nothing upon God’s
part to accuse or condemn, to hinder or obstruct salvation.
But then there is an inner wall, or dark dungeon of sin, into which the
sinner is shut up, and reserved in chains of his own lusts, until the time
of everlasting darkness; and when heaven is opened by Christ’s death, yet
this keeps a sinner from entering in. Therefore Jesus Christ, who came
himself into the world to satisfy justice and remove its plea, that there
might be no obstruction from that airth, he sends out his powerful Spirit
with the word, to deliver poor captive sinners, to break down the wall of
ignorance and blindness, to cast down the high tower of wickedness and
enmity against God, to take captive and chain our lusts that kept us in
bondage. And, as he made heaven accessible by his own personal obedience
and sufferings, so he makes sinners ready and free to enter into that
salvation by his Spirit’s working in their persons. In the one, he had
God, as it were, his party, and him he hath satisfied so far, that there
was a voice came from heaven to testify it, “This is my beloved Son, in
whom I am well pleased;” and therefore, in testimony of it, God raised him
from the dead. In the other, he hath Satan and man’s wicked nature as his
party, and these he must conquer and subdue. These he must overcome, ere
we can be saved. A strange business indeed, and a great work, to bring two
such opposite and distant parties together,—a holy and just God, and a
sinful and rebellious creature; and to take them both as parties, that he
might reconcile both.
Now what do you think of this, my beloved, that such a glorious person is
come down from heaven, for such a work as the salvation of sinners? I put
no doubt, it would be most acceptable unto you, if you knew your misery,
and knowing your misery, you could not but accept it, if you believed that
it were true and faithful. I find one of these two the great obstruction
in the way of souls receiving advantage by such glad tidings. Either the
absolute necessity and excellency of the gospel is not considered, or the
truth and reality of it is not believed. Men either do not behold the
beauty of goodness in it, or do not see the light of truth in it. Either
there is nothing discovered to engage their affections, or nothing seen to
persuade their understandings. Therefore the apostle sounds a trumpet, as
it were, in the entry, before the publication of these glad news, and
commends this unto all men as a true and faithful saying, and as worthy of
all acceptation. There is here the highest truth and certainty to satisfy
the mind: It “is a faithful saying.” And there is here also the chiefest
good to satiate the heart: It is “worthy of all acceptation.” Now, if you
do really apprehend your lost and miserable estate, you cannot but behold
that ravishing goodness in it; and behold that you cannot, till you see
the other first. Whence is it, I pray you, that so many souls are never
stirred with the proposition of such things in the gospel,—that the riches
and beauty of salvation in Jesus Christ doth not once move them? Is it not
because there is no lively apprehension of their misery without him?(155)
THE SINNER’S SANCTUARY, OR, A DISCOVERY MADE OF THOSE GLORIOUS PRIVILEGES
OFFERED UNTO THE PENITENT AND FAITHFUL UNDER THE GOSPEL: UNFOLDING THEIR
FREEDOM FROM DEATH, CONDEMNATION, AND THE LAW, IN FORTY SERMONS ON THE
EIGHTH CHAPTER OF THE EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS.
The Preface.
Courteous Reader,—It floweth more from that observance—not to say
honour—which is due to the laws of custom, than from any other motive,
that the stationers hold it expedient to salute thee at thy entry into
this book, by any commendatory epistle, having sufficient experience, that
books are oft inquired after, and rated according to the respect men
generally have of the author, rather than from the matter contained
therein, especially if the book be divine or serious; upon which ground
this treatise might have come abroad merely upon the virtue of the title
page,—Mr. Hugh Binning being so well known, and his other treatise so
universally, as deserving, received by the intelligent and studious in the
great mysteries of the Trinity, and other dark principles of the Christian
faith.
Yet if worthiness of matter—as the curious carved stones of the temple
were to the disciples—be amiable to thine eyes, and nervous sentences,
solid observations, with a kind of insinuating, yet harmless behaviour, be
taking with thy spirit, here they are also, and acquainting thyself with
them, either as the sinner or the saint, which thine own conscience shall
best inform thee of, there shall be virtue found to proceed from them,
either for thy souls refining from the dross of this corrupt age, or to a
diligent heed taking to preserve thyself pure from the pollutions which
are in the world through lust, to be more and more pure against the day
and coming of Christ our Saviour.
Though many elaborate pieces are already extant, and treatises of many
worthies of the church be already abroad upon this golden chapter, yet he
who hath seen the manyest, and knows the sublimity and darkness withal the
excellency of the subjects therein treated, shall know this work, or lamp,
to have its weight and light and though small, yet as a candle, shall
increase, and add to those lights already burning upon the table of his
memory or museol.(156) There is but one Spirit, one faith, one baptism,
yet about and in these, there are diversities of gifts, and though all men
naturally have but one face, yet the variety to be seen in each one,
procureth both wonder and delight, there being in every one something new,
something which makes it differ from all other. There is here to be found
something enlarged, enlightened, and applied, which in other volumes may
not be heeded, or but slenderly touched, or if it were otherwise, here it
is in some other way, method, or expression; besides which, there is no
new thing under the sun. And have we not, nay, choose we not, to have
variety of gems, agates, rubies, and diamonds shining about us, some
squared, some angled, each having their own excellency, because so formed?
If this instance take not, it is because the children of this generation
are wiser than the children of light.
That the work is imperfect, is for a lamentation save for this, that while
the author was contemplating upon the Spirit of adoption, and being with
God, the Spirit called upon him by death, as the voice did upon the
divine, saying, “Come up hither, and I will show thee,” Rev. iv. 1. So
that what David said of the waters of Bethlehem, may be said of this lame
orphan, “Is not this the blood of this good man?” The great and wise
Master builder of the church, giving this young man order to lay the
foundation, and raise the building but thus high, appointing, it must be,
some others to perfect and lay on the roof, yea, possibly it is squared
and framed already for thy use in other treatises, and thyself to perfect
the edifice of the salvation, by joining this and that together in thy
practice. Mr. Hugh Binning, showing thee in his lot, how to be rid of, or
delivered from the law’s condemnation, ver 1, and some other in his
quarter to demonstrate because of that, “neither height nor depth shall be
able to separate thee from the love of God,” ver. 39 of this chapter.
Had this work come directly from the authors own hands, he had spoken in
his own style, his own mind; but that being denied, receive this posthume
infant, as David did Mephibosheth, first, for its father’s sake, next for
its own. Though it be lame in the feet, yet it is of goodly countenance,
and speaketh so well, that its language hath got an _imprimatur_, and
where it is silent rest satisfied with that old refreshing cordial in such
cases, _cætera desiderantur_.
Sermon I.
Rom. viii. 1.—“There is therefore now no condemnation to them
which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after
the Spirit.”
There are three things which concur to make man miserable,—sin,
condemnation, and affliction. Every one may observe that “man is born unto
trouble as the sparks fly upward,” that his days here are few and evil. He
possesses “months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed” for him.
Job v. 6, 7, vii. 3. He “is of few days and full of trouble,” Job xiv. 1.
Heathens have had many meditations of the misery of man’s life, and in
this have outstripped the most part of Christians. We recount amongst our
miseries, only some afflictions and troubles, as poverty, sickness,
reproach, banishment, and such like. They again have numbered even these
natural necessities of men amongst his miseries,—to be continually turned
about, in such a circle of eating, drinking, and sleeping. What burden
should it be to an immortal spirit to roll about perpetually that wheel!
We make more of the body than of the soul. They have accounted this body a
burden to the soul. They placed posterity, honour, pleasure, and such
things, which men pour out their souls upon, amongst the greatest miseries
of men, as vanity in themselves, and vexation, both in the enjoying and
losing of them, but, alas! they knew not the fountain of all this
misery,—sin and the accomplishment of this misery,—condemnation. They
thought trouble came out of the ground and dust, either by a natural
necessity, or by chance, but the word of God discovereth unto us the
ground of it, and the end of it. The ground and beginning of it was man’s
defection from God, and walking according to the flesh, and from this head
have all the calamities and streams of miseries in the world issued. It
hath not only redounded to men, but even to the whole creation, and
subjected it to vanity, ver. 20 of this chapter. Not only shall thou, O
man, (saith the Lord to Adam,) eat thy meat in sorrow, but thy curse is
upon the ground also, and thou who wast immortal, shalt return to that
dust which thou magnifiedst above thy soul, Gen. iii. 17. But the end of
it is suitable to the beginning. The beginning had all the evil of sin in
it, and the end hath all the evil of punishment in it. These streams of
this life’s misery, they run into an infinite, boundless, and bottomless
ocean of eternal wrath. If thou live according to the flesh, thou shalt
die, it is not only death here, but eternal death after this. The miseries
then of this present life are not a proportionable punishment of sin, they
are but an earnest given of that great sum which is to be paid in the day
of accounts, and that is condemnation, “everlasting destruction from the
presence of the Lord, and the glory of his power.” Now, as the law
discovers the perfect misery of mankind, so the gospel hath brought to
light a perfect remedy of all this misery. Jesus Christ was manifested to
take away sin, and therefore his name is Jesus, “for he shall save his
people from their sins.” This is the Lamb of God that takes away the sins
of the world. Judgment was by one unto condemnation of all, but now there
is “no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus,” so these two evils
are removed, which indeed have all evil in them. He takes away the curse
of the law, being made under it, and then he takes away the sin against
the law by his Holy Spirit. He hath a twofold virtue, for he came by blood
and water, (1 John v. 6, 7,)—by blood, to cleanse away the guilt of sin,
and by water, to purify us from sin itself. But in the meantime, there are
many afflictions and miseries upon us, common to men: why are not these
removed by Christ? I say, the evil of them is taken away, though
themselves remain. Death is not taken away, but the sting of death is
removed. Death, afflictions, and all, are overcome by Jesus Christ, and so
made his servants to do us good. The evil of them is God’s wrath and sin,
and these are removed by Jesus Christ. Now they would be taken away
indeed, if it were not good they remained, for “all things work together
for good to them that love God.” ver. 28. So then we have a most complete
deliverance in extent, but not in degree. Sin remains in us but not in
dominion and power. Wrath sometimes kindles because of sin, but it cannot
increase to everlasting burnings. Afflictions and miseries may change
their name, and be called instructions and trials,—good and not evil; but
Christ hath reserved the full and perfect delivery till another day, which
is therefore called “the day of complete” redemption, and then all sin,
all wrath, all misery, shall have an end, and “be swallowed up of life and
immortality,” ver. 23.
This is the sum of the gospel, and this is the substance of this chapter.
There is a threefold consolation answerable to our threefold evils there
is “no condemnation to them which are in Christ.” Here is a blessed
message to condemned lost sinners who have that sentence within their
breasts, ver. 1. This was the end of Christ’s coming and dying, that he
might deliver us from sin as well as death, and the righteousness of the
law might be fulfilled in us, and therefore he hath given the Holy Spirit,
and dwells in us by the Spirit, to quicken us who are “dead in trespasses
and sins.” O what consolation will this be to souls, that look upon the
body of death within them, as the greatest misery, and do groan with Paul,
O wretched man that I am! &c., Rom. vii. 24. This is held forth to ver.
17. But because there are many grounds of heaviness and sadness in this
world, therefore the gospel opposes unto all these, both our expectation
which we have of that blessed hope to come, whereof we are so sure, that
nothing can frustrate us of it, and also the help we get in the meantime
of the Spirit to hear our infirmities, and to bring all things about for
good to us, ver. 28. And from all this the believer in Jesus Christ hath
ground of triumph and boasting before the perfect victory,—even as Paul
doth in the name of believers, from ver. 31 to the end. Upon these
considerations, he that cried out not long ago, “O miserable man, who
shall deliver me?” doth now cry out, “who shall condemn me?” The
distressed wrestler becomes a victorious triumpher; the beaten soldier
becomes more than a conqueror. O that your hearts could be persuaded to
hearken to this joyful sound—to embrace Jesus Christ for grace and
salvation! How quickly would a song of triumph in him swallow up all your
present complaints and lamentations!
All the complaints amongst men may be reduced to one of these three. I
hear the most part bemoaning themselves thus: Alas, for the miseries of
this life, this evil world! Alas for poverty, for contempt, for sickness!
Oh! miserable man that I am, who will take this disease away? Who will
show me any good thing, (Psal. iv. 6,) any temporal good? But if ye knew
and considered your latter end, ye would cry out more, ye would refuse to
be comforted, though these miseries were removed. But I hear some
bemoaning themselves more sadly—they have heard the law, and the sentence
of condemnation is within them. The law hath entered and killed them. Oh!
“what shall I do to be saved?” Who will deliver me from the wrath to come?
What are all present afflictions and miseries in respect of eternity? Yet
there is one moan and lamentation beyond all these, when the soul finds
the sentence of absolution in Jesus Christ, and gets its eyes opened to
see that body of death and sin within, that perfect man of sin diffused
throughout all the members. Then it bemoans itself with Paul—“O wretched
man—who shall deliver me from this body of death?” Rom. vii. 24. I am
delivered from the condemnation of the law, but what comfort is it, as
long as sin is so powerful in me? Nay, this makes me often suspect my
delivery from wrath and the curse, seeing sin itself is not taken away.
Now, if you could be persuaded to hearken to Jesus Christ, and embrace
this gospel, O what abundant consolation should ye have! What a perfect
answer to all your complaints! They would be swallowed up in such a
triumph as Paul’s are here. This would discover unto you a perfect remedy
of sin and misery, that ye should complain no more, or at least, no more
as those without hope. You shall never have a remedy of your temporal
miseries unless ye begin at eternal, to prevent them. “Seek first the
kingdom of God,” and all other things “shall be added unto you.” Seek
first to flee from the wrath to come, and ye shall escape it, and besides
the evil of time, afflictions shall be removed. First remove the greatest
complaints of sin and condemnation, and how easy is it to answer all the
lamentations of this life, and make you rejoice in the midst of them!
You have in this verse three things of great importance to consider,—the
great and precious privilege, the true nature, and the special property of
a Christian. The privilege is one of the greatest in the world, because it
is of eternal consequence, and soul concernment, the nature is most
divine,—he is one that is in Jesus Christ, and implanted in him by faith,
his distinguishing property is noble, suitable to his nature and
privileges,—he walks not as the world, according to his base flesh, but
according to the Spirit. All these three are of one latitude,—none of them
reaches further than another. That rich privilege and sweet property
concentres and meets together in one man, even in the man who is in Jesus
Christ. Whoever enters into Jesus Christ, and abideth in him, he meets
with these two, justification and sanctification, these are nowhere else,
and they are there together.
If ye knew the nature and properties of a Christian, ye would fall in love
with these for themselves, but if these for your own sakes will not allure
you, consider this incomparable privilege that he hath beyond all others,
that ye may fall in love with the nature of a Christian. Let this love of
yourselves and your own well-being pursue you into Jesus Christ, that ye
may walk even as he walked, and I assure you, if ye were once in Christ
Jesus, ye would love the very nature and walking of a Christian, no more
for the absolution and salvation that accompanies it, but for its own
sweetness and excellency beyond all other. Ye would, as the people of
Samaria, no more believe for the report of your own necessity and misery,
but ye would believe in Jesus Christ, and walk according to the Spirit,
for their own testimony they have in your consciences. You would no more
be allured only with the privileges of it to embrace Christianity, but you
would think Christianity the greatest privilege, a reward unto itself.
_Pietas ipsa sibi merces est_,—godliness is great gain in itself, though
it had not such sweet consequents or companions. That you may know this
privilege, consider the estate all men are into by nature. Paul expresses
it in short, Rom. v. “By the offence of one, judgment came upon all unto
condemnation and the reason of this is, by one man sin came upon all, and
so death by sin, for death passed upon all, because all have sinned,” ver.
18, 12. Lo, then, all men are under a sentence of condemnation once! This
sentence is the curse of the law—“Cursed is every one that abideth not in
all things commanded to do them.” If you knew what this curse were, ye
would indeed think it a privilege to be delivered from it. Sin is of an
infinite deserving, because against an infinite God, it is an offence of
an infinite majesty, and therefore the curse upon the sinner involves
eternal punishment. O what weight is in that word, (2 Thess. i. 9,) Ye
“shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the
Lord and the glory of his power.” If it were duly apprehended, it would
weigh down a man’s soul, and make it heavy unto death. This condemnation
includes both _damnum et pœnam, pœnam damni et pœnam sensus_, and both are
infinite in themselves, and eternal in their continuance. What an
unpleasant and bitter life would one lead, that were born to a kingdom,
and yet to be banished it and lose it? But what an incomparable loss is it
to fall from an heavenly kingdom, which heart cannot conceive, and that
for ever? In God’s favour is life, and in his presence are rivers of
pleasures for evermore. When your petty penny losses do so much afflict
your spirits, what would the due apprehension of so great a loss do? Would
it not be death unto you, and worse than death, to be separated from this
life, to be eternally banished from the presence of his glory? If there
should be no more punishment but this only; if the wicked were to endure
for ever on earth, and the godly, whom they despised and mocked, were
translated to heaven, what torment would it be to your souls to think upon
that blessedness which they enjoy above, and how foolishly ye have been
put by it for a thing of no value? What would a rich man’s advantages and
gains be to him, when he considereth what an infinite loser he is? How he
hath sold a kingdom for a dunghill? Now if there were any hope, that after
some years his banishment from heaven might end, this might refresh him,
but there is not one drop of such consolation. He is banished, and
eternally banished, from that glorious life in the presence of God, which
those do enjoy whom he despised. If a man were shut up all his life-time
in a pit, never to see the light once more, would not this be torment
enough to him? But when withal there is such pain joined with this loss;
when all this time he is tormented within with a gnawing worm, and without
with fire; those senses that did so greedily hunt after satisfaction to
themselves, are now as sensible in the feeling of pain and torment. And
when this shall not make an end, but be eternal, O whose heart can
consider it! It is the comfort and ease of bodily torments here, that they
will end in death. Destruction destroys itself, in destroying the body;
but here is an immortal soul to feed upon, and at length the body shall be
immortal. That destruction cannot quite destroy it, but shall be an
everlasting destruction and living death.
This is the sentence that is once passed against us all in the word of
God, and not one jot of this word shall fall to the ground: heaven and
earth may fail sooner. Ye would think it were an irrepealable decree, if
all the nations in the earth, and angels above, convened to adjudge a man
to death, did pass sentence upon him. Nay, but this word that is daily
spoken to you, which passeth this sentence upon you all, is more certain:
and this sentence of death must be executed, unless ye be under that
blessed exception made here and elsewhere in the gospel. I beseech you,
consider what it is to have such a judge condemning you. Would not any of
you be afraid, if ye were under the sentence of a king? If that judgment
were above your head, who of you would sit in peace and quietness? Who
would not flee from the wrath of a king, that is like the roaring of a
lion? But there is a sentence of the _King_ of kings and nations above
your heads. “Who would not fear thee,” to whom it doth appertain, “O King
of nations?” It is not a great man that can destroy the body, that is
against thee; it is not he who hath power to kill thee, and he hath also a
great desire so to do. This were indeed much; but it is the great and
eternal _Jehovah_, who lifts up his hand to heaven, and swears he lives
forever,—he is against thee. He who hath all power over body and soul is
against thee, and so is obliged to improve his omnipotency against thee;
he can kill both soul and body, and cast them into hell, and by virtue of
this curse he will not spare thee, but pour out all the curses in this
book. Thou wouldst be at no peace if thou wert declared rebel by the king
and parliament; but alas! that is a small thing. They can but reach thy
body, nay, neither can they always do that; thou mayest flee from them,
but whither canst thou flee from him? Thou canst not go out of his
dominions; for the earth is his, and the sea, and all that therein is.
Darkness cannot hide thee from him. He may spare long, because he can
certainly overtake when he pleases; men may not, because they have no
assurance of finding. I beseech you, then, consider this. It is of soul
consequence; and what hath a man gained, if he gain the world, and lose
his soul? If the gainer be lost, what is gained? And it is of eternal
consequence; and what are many thousand years to this? You can look beyond
all these, and might comfort yourselves in hope; but you cannot see to the
end of this. There is still more before than is past; nay, there is
nothing past,—it is still as beginning.
O that ye would consider this curse of God that stands registrate upon us
all? What effects had it on Christ, when he did bear it? It made his soul
heavy to death:—it was a cup that he could scarcely drink. He that
supported the frame of this world was almost near succumbing under the
weight of this wrath. It made him sweat blood in the garden. He that could
do all things, and speak all things, was put to this, “What shall I say?”
When this condemnation was so terrible to him, who was that Mighty One
upon whom all help was laid, what shall it be to you? No man’s sorrow was
ever like his, nor pain ever like his, if all the scattered torments were
united in one; but because he was God he overcame, and came out from under
it. But what do you think shall be the estate of those who shall endure
that same torment?—and not for three days, or three years, or some
thousands of years, but beyond imagination,—to all eternity?
I beseech you consider this condemnation which ye are adjudged unto, and
do not lie under it. Do ye think ye can endure what Christ endured? Do ye
think ye can bear wrath according to God’s power and justice? And yet the
judgment is come upon all men to this condemnation. But alas! who fears
him according to his wrath? Who knows the power of his anger? Ye sleep
secure, as if all matters were past and over your head. We declare unto
you in the Lord’s name, that this condemnation is yet above you, because
you have not judged yourselves. It is preached unto you that ye may flee
from it; but since ye will not condemn yourselves, this righteous Judge
must condemn you.
Now, since it is so, that such a condemnatory sentence is passed on all
men, what a privilege must it be, to be delivered from it,—to have that
sentence repealed by some new act of God’s mercy and favour? David
proclaims him a blessed man whose sins are forgiven and covered; and
indeed he is blessed who escapes that pit of eternal misery, though there
were no more. Though there were no title to an inheritance and kingdom
above, to be delivered from that wrath to come upon the children of
disobedience, this is more happiness than the enjoyment of all earthly
delights. “What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” “Skin for
skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life.” These riches
and advantages and pleasures that men spend their labour for, all these
they part with in such a hazard. The covetous man, he will cast his
coffers overboard ere he will lose his life; the voluptuous man, he will
suffer pain and torment in cutting off a member, ere he die. But if men
knew their souls, and what an immortality and eternity expects them, they
would not only give skin for skin, and all that they have, for their soul,
but their life also. Ye would choose to die a thousand deaths to escape
this eternal death. But “what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”
Matt. xvi. 26; though he would give, yet what hath he to give? There are
two things endear any privilege to us, and heighten the rate of it,—the
necessity of it, and the preciousness of it; and these two are eminent
here. Is it not necessary to be, to live, and have a being? All men think
so, when they will give all they have to redeem themselves. All other
things are accidental to them, they are nearest to themselves; therefore
all must go, ere themselves go. But I say this is more necessary,—to be
well eternally, than to be simply; to escape this condemnation, than to
have a being. And this shall be verified in the last day, when men shall
cry for hills and mountains to fall on them, and save them from the wrath
of the Lamb, Rev. vi. 16. Men will choose rather not to be, than to fall
in that wrath. O how acceptable would a man’s first nothing be to him in
that great day of wrath! Who shall be able to stand in it?—when kings and
princes, bond and free, great and small, shall desire mountains to grind
them into powder, rather than to hear that sentence of condemnation, and
yet shall not obtain it. O blessed are all they that trust in him, “when
his wrath is kindled but a little,” Ps. ii. 12. Ye toil and vex
yourselves, and spend your time about that body and life; but for as
precious as they are to you now, ye would exchange them one day for
immunity and freedom from this wrath and curse. How will that man think
his lines are fallen in pleasant places,—how will he despise the glory of
earthly kingdoms, though all united in one,—who considers in his heart how
all kings, all tongues and nations, must stand before the judgment-seat of
God, and the books of his law be opened, to judge them by, as also the
books of their consciences, to verify his accusation, and precipitate
their own sentence, and then, in the open view of all the sons of Adam,
and the angels, all secrets be brought out,—their accusation read as large
as their life-time, and as many curses be pronounced against every one, as
there be breaches of the law of God, whereof they are found guilty; and
then all these will seek into corners, and cry for mountains, but there is
no covering from his presence. What do ye think the man will think within
himself, who will stand before God, and be absolved in judgment by Jesus
Christ, notwithstanding his provocations above many of them? What will a
king then think of his crown and dominions, when he reflects on them? What
will the poor persecuted Christian then think of all the glory and
perfection of this world, when he looks back upon it? O know, poor foolish
men, what madness is in venturing your souls for trifles! Ye run the
hazard of all greatest things for a poor moment’s satisfaction. Ye will
repent it too late, and become wise to judge yourselves fools, when there
is no place to mend it.
But this privilege is no more necessary than it is precious. Your souls
are now kept captive under that sentence of everlasting imprisonment. Ye
are all prisoners, and know not of it. What will ye give in ransom for
your souls? Your sins and iniquities have sold you to the righteous Judge
of all the earth, as malefactors, and he hath passed a sentence of your
perpetual imprisonment under Satan’s custody in hell. Now what will you
give to redeem your souls from that pit? How few know the worth of their
souls! And so they offer unto God some of their riches for them. Doth not
many of you think ye have satisfied for sins, if ye pay a civil penalty to
the judge? Many think their own tears and sorrow for sin may be a price to
justice, at least if it be joined with amendment in time coming. And so
men conceive their sins are pardoned, and their souls redeemed. But alas!
the redemption of the soul is precious, yea, it ceaseth for ever; all your
substance will be utterly contemned, though ye offered it. How few of you
would give so much for your souls! And yet though ye give it, it will not
do it,—ye must pay the uttermost farthing, or nothing. Your sorrow and
reformations will not complete the sum, no, nor begin it. “Though thou
wash thee with nitre, and take much soap, yet thine iniquity is marked
before me,”—yet there is still condemnation for thee. Though all the world
should convene about this matter, to find a ransom for man; suppose all
the treasures of monarchs, the mines and bowels of the earth, the coffers
of rich men were searched; nay, let the earth, the sea, the heavens, and
sun and moon be prized at the highest;—join all the merits of angels above
and men below, all their good actions and sufferings, yet the sum that
amounts of all that addition, would not pay the least farthing of this
debt. The earth would say, it is not in me; the heaven behoved to answer
so; angels and men might say, we have heard of it, but it is hid from all
living. Where then is this redemption from the curse? Where shall a ransom
be found? Indeed God hath found it; it is with him. He hath given his Son
a ransom for many, and his blood is more precious than souls,—let be(157)
gold and silver. Is not this then a great privilege, that if all the
kingdoms of the world were sold at the dearest, yet they could not buy it?
What a jewel is this! What a pearl! Whoever of you have escaped this
wrath, consider what is your advantage. O consider your dignity ye are
advanced unto, that you may engage your hearts to him, to become his, and
his wholly! for “ye are bought with a price,” and are no more your own; he
gave himself for you, and was made a curse to redeem you from the curse. O
how should you walk as privileged men, as redeemed ones!
I beseech you all to call home your thoughts, to consider and ponder on
this sentence that is passed against us. There is now hope of delivery
from it, if ye will take it home unto you; but if ye will still continue
in the ways of sin, without returning, know this, that ye are but
multiplying those curses, platting many cords of your iniquities, to bind
you in everlasting chains. Ye are but digging a pit for your souls, ye
that sweat in your sins, and travel in them, and will not embrace this
ransom offered. The key and lock of that pit is eternal despair. O
consider how quickly your pleasures and gains will end, and spare some of
your thoughts from present things, to give them to eternity, that thread
spun out for ever and ever;—the very length of the days of the Ancient of
days, who hath no beginning of days nor end of time! Remember now of it,
lest ye become as long miserable as God is blessed, and that is for ever.
All men would desire to have privileges beyond others, but there is one
that carries it away from all the world, and that is the believer in Jesus
Christ, who is said to be in Christ, implanted in him by faith, as a
lively member of that body whereof Christ is the head. Christ Jesus is the
head of that body, the church; and this head communicates life unto all
the members, for “he filleth all in all.” There is a mighty working power
in the head, which diffuseth itself throughout the members, Eph. i. 19,
22, 23. There are many expressions of union between Christ and believers.
There is no near conjunction among men, but this spiritual union of Christ
with believers is represented to us under it. The foundation and the
building have a near dependence, the corner-stone and the wall—these knit
together; and Christ Jesus is the foundation and “the chief corner-stone,
in whom all the building fitly framed together, groweth unto an holy
temple,” Eph. ii. 20, 21. The head and members are near united, so is
Christ and believers; they “grow up into him,” Eph. iv. 15. Parents and
children are almost one, so is Christ Jesus the everlasting Father, and he
shows to the Father the children which he hath given him. We are his
brethren, and he is not ashamed to call us so; but which is more, we are
one flesh with him. There is a marriage between Christ and the church, and
this is the great meditation of the song of Solomon. He is the vine tree,
and we are branches planted in him. Nay, this union is so strict, that it
is mutual, “I in them,” and they “in me.” Christ dwelleth in us by faith,
by making us to believe in him, and love him; we dwell in Christ by that
same faith and love, by believing in him, and loving him. Christ Jesus is
our house where we get all our furniture; he is our store-house and
treasure, our place of strength and pleasure, a city of refuge, a strong
tower and a pleasant river to refresh us. We again are his habitation
where he dwelleth by his Spirit; we are his workhouse, where he works all
his curious pieces of the new creature, forming it unto the day of his
espousals, the great day of redemption.
This gives us to understand what we once were. We may stand here and look
back upon our former condition, and find matter both of delight and
sorrow. We were once without Christ in the world, and if without Christ,
then without “hope and without God in the world,” Eph. ii. 12. I wish this
were engraven on the hearts of men, that they are born out of Christ
Jesus; wild olives, growing up in the stock of degenerated Adam. He was
once planted a noble vine; but how quickly turned he into a degenerate
plant, and instead of grapes, brought forth wild grapes, and sour! We all
grow upon an “olive tree which is wild by nature,” Rom. xi. 24. It grows
out of the garden of God, in the barren wilderness, and is meet for
nothing but to bring forth fruit unto death, to be cut down and cast into
the fire. It is a tree which the Lord hath cursed,—“never more fruit grow
upon thee henceforth:” this was the fatal sentence pronounced on Adam. O
that you would know your condition by nature! how all your good
inclinations, dispositions, and education, cannot make your stock good,
and your fruit good! “Israel is an empty vine,”—this is our name. Nay, but
many think they bring forth fruit. Have not heathens spread forth their
branches, and brought forth many pleasant fruits of temporal patience,
sobriety, magnanimity, prudence, and such like? Do not some civil men many
acts of civility profitable to men? Doth not many a man pray and read the
scriptures from his youth up? Yes, indeed, these are fruits, but for all
that, he is an empty vine, for he brings forth fruit to himself; and so,
as in the original, he is a vine emptying the fruit which it gives, Hos.
x. 1. All these fruits are but to himself, and from himself; he knows not
to direct these to God’s glory, but to his own praise or advantage, to
make them his ornament; and he knows not his own emptiness, to seek all
his furniture and sap from another. What were all these fair blossoms and
fruits of heathens? Indeed they were more and better than any now upon the
multitude of professed Christians: and yet these were but _splendida
peccata_, shining sins. What is all your praying and fasting, but to
yourselves, as the Lord charges the people, Zech. vii. “Did ye at all fast
unto me?” No, ye do it to yourselves. Here is the wildness and
degenerateness of your natures. Either you bring forth very bitter fruits,
such as intemperance, avarice, contention, swearing, &c., or else fruits
that have nothing but a fair skin, like apples of Sodom that are beautiful
on the tree, but being handled, turn to ashes; so there is nothing of them
from God, or to God. I think every man almost entertains this secret
persuasion in his breast,—that his nature may be weak, yet it is not
wicked; it may be helped with education, and care, and diligence, and
dressed till it please God, and profit others. Who is persuaded in heart
that he is an enemy to God, and cannot be subject to God’s law? Who
believes that his “heart is desperately wicked?” Oh! it is indeed
“deceitful above all things,” and in this most deceitful, that it
persuades you ye have a good heart to God. Will not profane men, whose
hands are defiled, maintain the uprightness of their hearts? _Nemo
nascitur bonus sed fit_. I beseech you once, consider that ye are born out
of Christ Jesus. Ye conceive that ye are born and educated Christians; ye
have that name indeed from infancy, and are baptized. But I ask about the
thing; baptism of water doth not implant you into Jesus Christ. Nay, it
declares this much unto you, that by nature ye are far off from Jesus, and
wholly defiled,—all your imaginations only evil. Now, I beseech you, how
came the change? Or is there a change? Are not the most part of men the
old men,—no new creatures? He that is in Christ is a new creature, 2 Cor.
v. 17. Ye have now Adam’s nature, which ye had first. Ye have borne the
image of the earthly, and are ye not such yet, who are still earthly?
Think ye that ye can inherit the kingdom of God thus? Can ye pass over
from a state of condemnation to a state of life and no condemnation,
without a change? No, believe it, ye cannot inherit incorruption with
flesh and blood, which ye were born with. Ye must be implanted in the
second Adam, and bear his image, ere ye can say that ye are partakers of
his blessings, 1 Cor. xv. 47-49, &c. Now I may pose your consciences,—how
many of you are changed? Are not the most part of you even such as ye were
from your childhood? Be not deceived, ye are yet strangers from the
promises of God, and without this hope in the world.
Sermon II.
Verse 1.—“There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are
in Christ Jesus, &c.”
All the promises are yea and amen in Christ Jesus; they meet all in him
and from him are derived unto us. When man was in integrity, he was with
God, and in God, and that immediately, without the intervention of a
Mediator. But our falling from God hath made us without God, and the
distance is so great, as Abraham speaks to the rich man, that neither can
those above go down to him, nor he come up to them. There is a gulf of
separation between God and us, that there can be no meeting. And so we who
are without God, are without hope in the world, Eph. ii. 12; no hope of
any more access to God as before. The tree of life is compassed about with
a flaming fire and a sword. God is become a consuming fire unto us, that
none can come near these everlasting burnings, much less dwell with them.
Since there can be no meeting so, God hath found out the way how sinners
may come to him, and not be consumed. He will meet with us in Jesus
Christ, that living temple, and this is the trysting place.(158) There was
a necessity of this Mediator, to make up the difference, and make a bridge
over that gulf of separation, for us to come to God, and this is his human
nature, the new and living way, the vail of his flesh. God is in Christ
therefore, reconciling the world to himself. All the light of consolation
and salvation that is from God, is all embodied in this Sun of
righteousness. All the streams of grace and mercy run in the channel of
his well beloved Son. It follows then, that God is not to be found out of
Jesus Christ, and whosoever is without Christ, is without God in the
world. “God was in Christ reconciling the world,” and “there is therefore
no condemnation to them that are in Christ,” but God out of Christ is
condemning the world, and therefore condemnation is to all that are not in
Christ. When all the sons of Adam were declared rebels, because of his and
their own rebellion, the Lord hath appointed a city of refuge, that
whosoever is pursued by the avenger of blood, may enter into it, and get
protection and safety. Without is nothing but the sword of the avenger,
justice reigning in all the world beside, within this city, justice may
not enter to take out any into condemnation. And therefore those souls
that flee for refuge, to lay hold upon the hope set before them in Jesus
Christ, justice may pursue them to the ports of this city, condemnation
may follow them hard, till they enter in, but these may not enter into the
ports of the city. What a miserable estate then are these souls in, that
be in their own natures in the open fields without this city! How many
foolish men apprehend no danger, but sport about the ports of the city of
refuge, and will not enter in! O the avenger of blood shall be upon thee
ere thou know, and if it find thee out of the city, woe unto thee! All thy
prayers and entreaties will not prevail. Justice is blind and deaf,—cannot
deal partially, or respect persons, cannot hear thy supplications. It is
strange, that men are taken up with other petty inconsiderable things, and
yet neglect to know what this is, to be in Jesus Christ, upon which their
salvation depends.
Faith in Jesus Christ is the soul’s flight into the city of refuge. Now
none flieth but when they apprehend danger, or are pursued. This danger
that a soul apprehends, is perishing and condemnation for ever. The
pursuer is the law of God, and his justice, these have a sword in their
hand, the curse of God, and the sentence of condemnation. God erects a
tribunal in his word, wherein he judgeth men. Whosoever he hath a purpose
of good-will unto, he makes the law to enter into their consciences, that
the offence might abound. He sends out some messenger of affliction, or
conviction, to bring them before the judgment seat, and hear their
accusation read unto them. There the soul stands trembling, and the
conscience witnesseth and approveth all that the word challengeth of, so
that the sinner’s mouth is stopped, and can have no excuse to this
accusation. Then the judge pronounces the sentence upon the guilty person,
“Cursed is every one that abideth not in all things, &c.” The soul cries,
Guilty, O Lord, guilty, I deserve the curse indeed. Oh! “what shall I do
to be saved?” Then the soul looks about on the right hand, and on the left
hand, to seek some refuge, but there is none. Whither shall he go from
him? He looks within himself, and beholds nothing within, but the accusing
witnessing conscience becomes a tormentor. The fire is kindled within,
which feeds upon the fuel of innumerable sins. Now the soul is almost
overwhelmed, and spies if there be any place to flee to from itself, and
from that wrath, and behold the Lord discovers a city of refuge near hand,
where no condemnation is, even Christ Jesus, who hath sustained the curse,
that he might redeem us from it. The vision of peace is here, and thither
the soul flies out of itself, and from justice, into that discovered
righteousness of Christ, and so the more that the offence abounded, now
the more hath grace super-abounded, so that there is now no more
condemnation to him.
I beseech you consider this, and let it be written on the table of your
hearts. There are two tribunals that God sits upon,—one out of Christ
Jesus, another in Christ Jesus. There is a throne of justice, where no
sentence passes but pure unmixed justice, without any temperament of mercy
and this all men must once compear before. You know what a covenant of
works God once made with us,—if thou do these things thou shalt live, if
not, thou shalt die the death. According to this we must once be judged,
that justice suffer no prejudice. Therefore God speaks out of his law,
upon this throne, the language of mount Sinai, he reads our charge unto
us, and because all the world is guilty, therefore the sentence of death
is once passed upon all. Now, whoever of you come before this tribunal to
be judged, know that it is a subordinate court, there is a higher court of
mercy and judgment, both justice and mercy mixed together. Though mercy be
the predominant, justice and judgment are the habitation of it, but mercy
and truth go before the Judge’s face, and come nearest sinners to give
them access. And this you may appeal unto from that tribunal of justice.
“But there is forgiveness with thee, &c.,” Ps. cxxx. 4, 5. And whoever
comes here, Christ Jesus sits on this throne to absolve him from that
sentence. If you ask what equity is in it, is not this a prejudice to
justice, and an abomination to the Lord, to justify the wicked and ungodly
sinner? I say, it is no iniquity, because Jesus Christ hath paid the price
for us, and was made a curse for our sins, that we might be the
righteousness of God in him, and therefore it is just with God to forgive
sins, to relax that sinner from the condemnation of the law, that flees
into Jesus Christ. You may answer justice—I will not take this for God’s
last word. I hear that all final judgment is committed to the Son, that he
may give life to whom he will; he calls me, and to him will I go, for he
hath the words of eternal life, he will justify, and who shall condemn?
Now, if any man will not now arraign himself before the tribunal of God’s
justice, if he will not search his guiltiness till his mouth be stopped,
and hear his sentence of condemnation read, and take with it,—that man
cannot come to Jesus Christ, to be absolved, for he justifieth none but
self-condemned and lost sinners. So your day is but yet coming, when you
must answer to justice. The tribunal of mercy shall be removed, and Christ
shall sit upon a throne of pure justice, to judge those who judged not
themselves. Alas for your loss, the most part of you! I pity you. You live
in great peace and quietness without the ports of the city of refuge. We
declare unto you in the Lord’s name, you are under the curse of God: will
you yet sit secure, and put the evil day far from you? Oh! rather trouble
your peace for a season, with the consideration of your sins! Enter into
judgment with yourselves till you see nothing but perishing in
yourselves;—and there is no hazard, because salvation is brought near in
the gospel. If you would not trouble yourselves so much as to judge
yourselves, then you shall be judged when there is no Mediator to plead
for you, none to appeal unto.
But whosoever takes the sentence of condemnation unto them, and subscribes
to the righteousness of the Lord’s curse upon them, we do invite all such
in the Lord’s name, to come in hither, even to Jesus Christ. There is no
condemnation to them that are in him. If you stand scrupulous, making many
questions in such a matter of so great necessity, you wrong your own soul
and dishonour him. Know this, that God is in Christ reconciling the world
to himself. Therefore thou condemned sinner mayest come to God in Christ.
If you ask any warrant, we think there should be no such questioning, when
you are in so great necessity. If a man were starving without a city, and
it were told him there is plenty within, were he not a fool that would
make any more business, but labour to enter in? This is enough to cross
all your objections; you are in extreme necessity, and like to perish
within yourself; “he is able to save to the uttermost all that come to
him.” What would you more? Let there be then a closure between absolute
necessity and sufficient ability to save. Will you yet stand disputing
without the city, when the avenger of blood is above your head? If you
will yet press for some more ground and warrant of believing,—then I will
tell you all that I know is in the word for a ground of faith. You have
great misery and necessity within you,—that you grant, and it is your
complaint. Christ hath mercy and sufficiency of grace in him; he is able
to save to the uttermost,—that you cannot deny. But I do add this third,
he is also willing to save thee, whoever will be saved by him; nay, he is
more willing than thou art. If you question this, I desire you but to
consider the whole tenor of the gospel. How many invitations! How many
persuasions! How many promises to those who come! Yea, how many commands,
and that peremptory, to believe on him! Yea, how many threatenings against
you, if you will not come to him to have life! Hath he given himself for
the sins of the world, and will he not be willing that sinners partake of
that he was at so much pains to purchase? Think you that Christ will be
content his death should be in vain? And it should be in vain, if he did
not welcome the worst sinners; yea, it should be in vain if he did not
draw them to him, and make them willing. But besides this, he hath
promised so absolutely, and freely, and fully, as there should be no
exception imaginable against it; “him that cometh to me, I will in no wise
cast out,” John vi. 37. Why do you imagine any case where Christ hath made
none? Why do you sin against your own souls? Oh, if I were in Christ, say
you, I would be well! and oh, that he would welcome such a sinner! Christ
answers thee in express terms; “whosoever will, let him take and drink
freely.” Thou declarest thy willingness in so speaking; and he declares
his willingness in so promising. Nay, thy looking afar off on him, is a
fruit of his willingness; “ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you,”
and loved you first. If ye will not yet believe this, look upon his
command; this is his command, that ye believe on the Son, 1 John iii. 23.
What warrant have ye to do any duty he commands? And why do ye more
question this? Is not this his command? And is it not more peremptory,
because a new command, and his last command? And when withal he
boasts(159) us into his Son, that we may have life, oh, who should have
the face to question any more his willingness! Other grounds than these I
know none; and I think if any come to Christ, or pretend to come, on other
grounds, he comes not right. If the most holy man come not in among
ungodly sinners; if he do not walk upon the grounds of his own extreme
necessity, and Christ’s sufficiency, he cannot come to Jesus Christ. There
is a conceit among people, which, if it were not so common as it is, I
would not mention it, it is so ridiculous—how can I come to Christ so
unclean and so guilty, nothing but condemnation in me? If I were such and
such, I would come to him. Alas! there can nothing be imagined more
absurd, or contrary even to sense and reason. If thou wert such and such,
as thou fanciest a desire to be, thou wouldst not come to Christ; thou
neededst him not. That which thou pretendest as a reason why thou shouldst
not come, is the great reason pressed in the gospel why thou shouldst
come. What madness is this? I am so unclean, I will not come to the
fountain to wash;—wherefore was the fountain opened, but for sin and
uncleanness? And the more uncleanness, the more need; and the more need,
the more reason to come. Necessity is a great errand, and our errand is a
sufficient warrant. I am pursued by the law, I have condemnation within
me, and nothing but condemnation. Well then, come to Christ Jesus, the
city of refuge, where no condemnation is. Wherefore was this city
appointed, but for this end? I beseech you every one who useth those
debates, and taketh a kind of delight in them, know what they mean, how
they wrong your own souls; how they dishonour Christ, and so God the
Father; nay, how foolish and ridiculous they are,—that if it were not your
perplexity indeed, they deserved no answer, but a rebuke or silence. I
have seen people take delight in moving objections against the truth, yea,
and study earnestly how to object against any answers given from the
truth. Alas! thou meddlest to thine own hurt; thou art upon a way which
shall never yield thee any comfort, but keep thy soul from establishment,
as a wave tossed up and down! If ye believe not, but dispute, ye shall not
be established.
But I would speak a word to those that have believed, that have fled for
refuge to Christ. Oh! it concerns you most of all men to study to know
this condemnation that ye are delivered from, that ye may be thankful, and
may keep close within this city. I say, there is no man within the world
should have more thoughts, more deep and earnest meditations on the curse
and wrath of God, than those who are delivered from them through Christ;
and my reason is, that ye may know how great a salvation ye have received,
how great a condemnation ye have escaped, and may henceforth walk as those
who are bought with a price. Your creation makes you not your own, but
his, because he gave that being. But your redemption should make you twice
more his, and not your own, because, when that being was worse than if it
had not been at all, he made it over again. So ye are twice his: first, he
made you with a word, but now he hath bought you with a price, and that a
dear price,—his blood. Again, the keeping this curse always in your view
and sight and application of it unto your sins, will make much employment
for Christ. O how will ye often flee into that city! I think they are the
greatest enemies of Jesus Christ, and his grace, who would have a believer
have no more use of the law. I know not who can use the law if he do it
not. I know not who can apply it unto Christ, the end of it, but he.
Certainly he hath not only use of the commands as a rule of obedience, but
the curse also, not to make him fear again unto bondage; no, no, but to
make him see always the more necessity of Jesus Christ, that he may take
up house in him, and dwell in him.
Sermon III.
Verse 1.—“Who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.”
It is difficult to determine which of these is the greatest privilege of a
Christian,—that he is delivered from condemnation, or that he is made to
walk according to the Spirit, and made a new creature; whether we owe more
to Christ for our justification, or sanctification: for he is made both to
us: but it is more necessary to conjoin them together, than to compare
them with each other. The one is not more necessary—to be delivered from
wrath, than the other, to walk according to the Spirit. I think it were an
argument of a soul escaped from condemnation, to have the great stream and
current of its affections and endeavours towards sanctification, not that
they may be accepted of God, but because they are accepted of God. It is
not said, there is nothing condemnable in those that are in Christ, but
there is no condemnation to them. There is, indeed, a body of death, and
law of sin within them, a nature defiled with original pollution, and many
streams flowing from it, which the sprinkling of the blood of Christ in
justification doth not take away. If any man say there is no sin in him,
he is a liar, and the truth is not in him. But here is the grace and mercy
of God in Jesus Christ; that removes the curse where the sin is,—that
takes away the condemnation where all worthy of condemnation is. And thus
the soul’s justification is parallel to Christ’s condemnation. There was
in him nothing condemnable, no sin, no guile in his mouth; yet there was
condemnation to him, because he was in stead and place of sinners. Our
iniquities were laid on him, not in him; he who knew no sin was made a
curse for us, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. So
then, the soul that fleeth into Jesus Christ’s righteousness, though it
have in it all that deserveth condemnation, yet there is no condemnation
to it, because his righteousness is laid upon it, and Christ hath taken
away the curse. The innocent Son of God was condemned, therefore are
guilty sinners absolved. The curse was applied unto him who had no sin,
but only was made sin, or sin laid on him, and therefore the sentence of
absolution from the curse is applied unto them who have no righteousness,
but are made the righteousness of God by free and gracious imputation.
This I speak, because of many unsavoury and unsound expressions in this
loose generation, that there is no sin in the justified, that
justification removes it close, as if it had never been at all. I say, as
the condemnation of Jesus Christ did not blot out his innocency and
holiness within him, but only justice considered him on that account as a
transgressor, who yet was the holy and spotless Lamb of God in himself; so
likewise the justification of a sinner before God, doth not remove or blot
out the very corruption and defilement of our natures, but only scrapes
out our names out of the roll of his debtors, as having satisfied in our
cautioner, and considers us as righteous on that account before God. And
this likewise I speak for your use, that ye may loathe and abhor
yourselves, as much in yourselves, who are made clean by the blood of
Jesus Christ, as if ye were not washen. Nay, so much the more ye ought to
remember your own sins, which he doth not remember as debt any more; and
to be ashamed and confounded because they are pardoned. It is ordinary for
souls to look on themselves with an eye of more complacency in themselves,
when they apprehend that God looks favourably on them. I do not think that
any soul can duly consider the gracious aspect of God in Jesus Christ to
them, but they will the more loathe themselves. But I find it ordinary,
that slight and inconsiderate thoughts of pardon beget jolly conceits in
men’s hearts of themselves. And this is even the sin of God’s children;
something is abated of our self-abhorring, when we have peace and favour
spoken unto us. But I beseech all who believe there is no condemnation for
them, to consider there are all things worthy of it in them, yea, nothing
but what deserves it; and therefore let that aspect of God beget
self-loathing and self-detestation in you. The more you apprehend he is
pleased with you, be ye the more displeased with yourselves, because it is
not yourselves he is pleased with, but his own well-beloved Son. The day
of redemption is coming, when there shall be no condemnation, and nothing
condemnable either. In heaven you shall be so, but while ye are here, this
is the most important duty ye are called to,—to loathe yourselves, because
of all your abominations, and because he is pacified towards you, Ezek.
xvi. at the close; and chap. xxxvi. 31; and xx. 43, 44. There is a new and
strange mortification now pleaded for by many,(160) whose highest
advancement consisteth in not feeling, or knowing, or confessing sin, but
in being dead to the sense and conviction of the same. Alas! whither are
these reforming times gone? Is not this the spirit of Antichrist? I
confess it is a mortification of godliness, a crucifying of repentance and
holiness, a crucifying of the new man; but it is a quickening of the old
man in the lusts thereof, a living to sin. This is a part of that new (but
falsely so called) gospel that is preached by some; which, if an angel
would bring from heaven, we ought not to believe it. “Other foundation can
no man lay than that which is laid” already, upon which the prophets and
apostles are builded,—even Christ Jesus. Lord, give the Spirit to
understand these mysteries already revealed; but save us from these new
discoveries and lights. That which we have received is able to make us
perfect to salvation.
Every one pretends a claim and right to this privilege of Christians, to
be pardoned and absolved from condemnation, who doth not put it out of
question, though in the mean time their iniquities testify against them;
and their transgressions say in the heart of a godly man, that “there is
no fear of God before their eyes.” Therefore the apostle describes the man
that is in Jesus Christ, to be such an one, that walks “not after the
flesh, but after the Spirit,”—not only to guard against the presumptuous
fancy of those that live in their sins, that pretend to hope for heaven,
but to stir up every justified soul to a new manner of conversation, since
they are in Jesus Christ. We would speak a word of two things from this:
First, That the Scripture gives marks and characters of justified and
reconciled persons, that they may be known by, both to themselves and
others. Next, That, the Christian having escaped condemnation, hath a new
manner of walking, and is a new creature in Christ.
It might seem a strange thing, that this first were questioned in this
generation, (if any the most clear and important truth could pass without
scanning) the very tenor of the Scripture holds out so much of it. I
wonder that any man that reads this chapter, or the epistles of James and
John, should have any more doubt of it. “Hereby we do know that we know
him, if we keep his commandments.” Is not this a conclusion of our state
and condition, from the conformity of our walking to the will of God? What
divine truth can we be sure of, if this be uncertain? When the beloved
disciple, who knew how to preach Christ, asserts it in express terms, 1
John v. 13, “These things have I written unto you that believe, that ye
may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of
the Son of God.” This very thing was the great scope and purpose of that
evangelic and divine epistle.
I find that Antinomians(161) confound this question, that they may have
the more advantage in their darkness. The question is not concerning the
grounds of a man’s believing in Christ, but concerning our assurance, or
knowledge of our believing. There is a great mistake in Christians
practice, in confounding these two. It makes Christians very unreasonable
in their doubtings and exercises; therefore let us have this before our
eyes,—faith, in its first and pure acting, is rather an adherence and
cleaving of a lost soul to Christ, than an evidence of its interest in
him, or of his everlasting love. You know all, that it is one thing to
know a thing, or love a thing, and another thing to reflect upon it, and
know that I know and love it. John did write to believers, that they might
know they did believe, and believe yet more. These things then are both
separable, and the one is posterior to the other,—“after that ye believed
ye were sealed.” The persuasion of God’s love and our interest in Christ,
is the Spirit’s seal set upon the soul. There is a mutual sealing here.
The soul, by believing and trusting in Jesus Christ, “sets to its seal
that God is true,” as John speaks, John iii. 33. When God speaks in his
law, the soul receives that testimony of his justice and holiness,
subscribes to the equity and righteousness of the sentence, by condemning
itself. And when Christ speaks in the gospel, the soul seals that doctrine
of free salvation, by approving and consenting with all its heart to the
offer, subscribes to the way of salvation in Christ, and the truth of his
promises. And thus is the truth of God and Christ sealed, by the soul’s
believing. Then the Spirit of Jesus Christ afterward, when he pleaseth,
irradiates and shines upon the soul, and discovers those things that are
freely given, and witnesseth to the conscience of the believer, that he is
a son of God. Thus the Spirit seals the believer, and gives his testimony
to his truth.(162)
Now if we speak of the ground of the first, viz. of believing in Christ to
salvation, I know none, but that which is common to sinners, and holden
out in the gospel generally to all,—our sin and misery, and absolute
necessity, and Christ’s invitation of all to come, and receive his full
and perfect salvation. I think a man should seek nothing in himself,
whereupon to build his coming to Christ. Though it be true, no man can
come to a Saviour, till he be convinced of sin and misery, yet no man
should seek convictions as a warrant to come to Christ for salvation. He
that is in earnest about this question, how shall I be saved?—I think he
should not spend the time in reflecting on, and examination of himself,
till he find something promising in himself; but from discovered sin and
misery, pass straightway over to the grace and mercy of Christ, without
any intervening search of something in himself to warrant him to come.
There should be nothing before the eye of the soul but sin, and misery and
absolute necessity, compared with superabounding grace and righteousness
in Christ; and thus it singly devolves itself over upon Christ, and
receives him as offered freely, “without money and without price.” I know
it is not possible that a soul can receive Christ till there be some
preparatory convincing work of the law, to discover sin and misery. But I
hold, that to look to any such preparation, and fetch an encouragement or
motive therefrom, to believe in Christ is really to give him a price for
his free waters and wine,—it is to mix in together Christ and the law, in
the point of our acceptation. And for souls to go about to seek
preparations,—for a time resolving not at all to consider the promise of
the gospel, till they have found them, and satisfaction in them, is
nothing else but to go about to establish their own righteousness, being
ignorant of the righteousness of Christ. And therefore many do corrupt the
simplicity of the gospel, by rigid exactions of preparations, and measures
of them, and by making them conditions or restrictions of gospel commands
and promises; as in this, “Come ye that are wearied.” And from thence they
seem to exclude persons not so qualified, from having a warrant to
believe. Alas! it is a great mistake of these and such words. Certainly
these are not set down on purpose to exclude any who will come,—for,
“whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely,” but rather to
encourage such wearied and broken souls as conceive themselves to be the
only persons excluded, and to declare unto us in some measure, the nature
of true faith, that a soul must be beaten out of itself, ere it can come
to Christ. Therefore, I conclude, that not only is it a ridiculous and
foolish conceit of many Christians that use to object against
believing,—if I were as such and such a person, if I did love God, if I
had these fruits of the Spirit, if I walked according to the Spirit, then
I might believe. Alas! how directly opposite is this to the terms of the
gospel! I say, if thou place satisfaction in these, and from that ground
come to Jesus Christ, then thou dost not come really,—thou dost indeed
establish thine own righteousness. Doth any saint, though ever so holy,
consider himself under such notions of grace, when he comes to be
justified? No indeed; but as an ungodly man rather, he must deny all that,
though he had it. And besides, it is most unreasonable and incongruous, to
seek the fruits before the tree be planted, and to refuse to plant the
tree, till you can behold the fruits of it. But also, it is contrary to
the free and comfortable doctrine of the gospel, for a soul to seek the
discovery of any thing in itself but sin, before it apply to Jesus Christ.
I say, there must be some sense of sin, otherwise it hath not rightly
discovered sin, but a soul should not be at the pains to discover that
sense of sin, and find it out, so as to make it a motive of believing in
Christ. He ought to go straight forward, and not return as he goes. He
must indeed examine himself,—not to find himself a sensible humble sinner,
that so he may have ground of believing, but that he may find himself a
lost perishing sinner, void of all grace and goodness, that he may find
the more necessity of Jesus Christ. And thus I think the many contentions
about preparations of conditions preparatory to believing, may be
reconciled.
Now if the question be, as it is indeed, about the grounds of our
assurance, and knowledge of our own faith, certainly it is clear as the
noonday, that as the good tree is known by the fruits thereof, and the
fire by the heat thereof, so the indwelling of faith in the heart is known
by its purifying of the heart and working by love. It makes a man a new
creature, so that he and others may see the difference. Neither is this
any derogation to the free grace of Christ, or any establishing of our own
righteousness, except men be so afraid to establish their own
righteousness, that they will have no holiness at all, but abandon it
quite, for fear of trusting in it, which is a remedy worse than the
disease, because I make it not a ground of my acceptation before God, but
only a naked evidence of my believing in Christ, and being accepted of
God. It being known that these have a necessary connection together in the
Scriptures, and it being also known that the one is more obvious and easy
to be discerned than the other. Sure I am, the Lamb’s book of life is a
great mystery, and unless this be granted, I see not but every man’s
regeneration and change shall be as dark and hidden, as the hidden and
secret decrees of God’s election; for the Spirit may immediately reveal
both the one and the other. Is it any derogation to the grace of Christ,
to know what is freely given us? Doth it not rather commend his grace,
when a soul looks upon itself, beautified with his comeliness, and adorned
with his graces, and loathes itself in itself, and ascribes all the honour
and praise to him? Is it not more injury to the fountain and fulness of
grace in Christ, not to see the streams of it at all nor to consider them,
than to behold the streams of grace that flow out of this fountain, as
coming out of it? I think Christians may be ready to idolize their graces,
and make them mediators, when they are known, but is this a good remedy of
that evil, to abandon all sight and knowledge of the things freely given
us of God? Shall we not speak of the freeness of grace, because men’s
corruptions turn grace into carnal liberty and wantonness? If these graces
be in us, sure I am, it is no virtue to be ignorant of them, but rather a
weakness and darkness. It must then be the light and grace of God to know
them, and from thence to conclude(163) that assurance of faith, which is
not a forced, ungrounded persuasion, and strong fancy, without any
discovered reason of it. Sure I am, the apostles counsel is, to make our
election sure, by making our calling sure. How shall any venture to look
into those secrets of the Lamb’s book of life, and read their name there?
Undoubtedly they belong not to us,—they are a light inaccessible, that
will but confound and darken us more. Therefore, whoever would know their
election, according to the Scriptures, must read the transcript and copy
of the book of life, which is written in the hearts and souls of the
elect.
The thoughts of God are written in his works upon the spirits of men. His
election hath a seal upon it,—“The Lord knoweth them that are his;” and
who can break up this seal? “Who hath known the mind of the Lord?” None
can, until the Lord write over his thoughts in some characters of his
Spirit, and of the new creature, in some lineaments and draughts of his
own image, that it may be known they are the epistle of Christ, not
written with ink and paper, but with the Spirit of the living God, not on
tables of stone, but in fleshly tables of the heart, 2 Cor. iii. 3. Christ
writes his everlasting thoughts of love and good-will to us in this
epistle; and that we may not think this doth extol the creature, and abase
Christ, it is added, ver. 5,—“Not that we are sufficient of ourselves,—but
our sufficiency is of God.” The seeing of grace in ourselves doth not
prejudge the grace of God, unless we see it independent of the fountain,
and behold not the true rise of it, that we may have no matter to glory
of. It is not a safe way of beholding the sun, to look straight on it. It
is too dazzling to our weak eyes,—you shall not well take it up so. But
the best way is to look on it in water; then we shall more steadfastly
behold it. God’s everlasting love, and the redemption of Jesus Christ, is
too glorious an object to behold with the eyes of flesh. Such objects
certainly must astonish and strike the spirits of men with their
transcendent brightness. Therefore we must look on the beams of this sun,
as they are reflected in our hearts; and so behold the conformity of our
souls, wrought by his Spirit, unto his will; and then we shall know the
thoughts of his soul to us. If men shall at the first flight climb so
high, as to be persuaded of God’s eternal love, and Christ’s purchase for
them in particular, they can do no more, but scorch their wings, and melt
the wax of them, till they fall down from that heaven of their ungrounded
persuasion, into a pit of desperation. The Scripture way is to go downward
once, that ye may go up. First go down in yourselves, and make your
calling sure, and then you may rise up to God, and make your election
sure. You must come by this circle; there is no passing by a direct line,
and straight through, unless by the immediate revelation of the Spirit,
which is not ordinary and constant, and so not to be pretended unto.
I confess, that sometimes the Spirit may intimate to the soul God’s
thoughts towards it, and its own state and condition, by an immediate
overpowering testimony, that puts to silence all doubts and objections,
that needs no other work or mark to evidence the sincerity and reality of
it. That light of the Spirit shall be seen in its own light, and needs not
that any witness of it. The Spirit of God sometimes may speak to a
soul,—“Son, be of good comfort, thy sins are forgiven thee.” This may
break into the soul as a beam darted from heaven, without reference to any
work of the Spirit upon the heart, or word of Scripture, as a mids(164) or
mean to apply it. But this is more extraordinary. The ordinary testimony
of the Spirit is certainly conjoined with the testimony of our own
consciences, Rom. viii. 16. And our consciences bear witness of the work
of the Spirit in us, which the Spirit discovers to be according to the
word. The Spirit makes known to us things that are freely given; but, by
“comparing spiritual things with spiritual,” 1 Cor. ii. 10, 13. The fruit
and special work of the Holy Ghost in us is the _medium_, and the Spirit’s
light irradiates and shines upon it, and makes the heart to see them
clearly. For, though we be the children of light, yet our light hath so
much darkness, as there must be a supervenient and accessory light of the
Spirit, to discover that light unto us. Now what is all this to us? I fear
that there be many ungrounded persuasions among us,—that many build on a
sandy foundation, even a strong opinion that it is well with them, without
any examination of their souls and conversations according to the word;
and this certainly, when the tempest blows, cannot stand. Some teach, that
no man should question whether he believe or not, but presently believe. I
think none can believe too suddenly; it is always in season, _nunquam sera
est fides nec pænitentia_,—it is never late in respect of the promise; and
it is never too early in respect of a man’s case. But I cannot think any
man can believe, till the Spirit have convinced him of his unbelief; and
therefore I would think the most part of men nearer faith in Jesus Christ,
if they knew they wanted faith. Nay, it is a part of faith, and believing
God in his word, and setting to our seal that God is true, for a man to
take with his unbelief, and his natural inability, yea, averseness to it.
I would think that those who could not believe in Christ, because they
sought honour one of another, and went about to kill him, they had done
well to have taken with that challenge of Christ’s; and if men ought to
take with their sin, they ought to search and try their sin, that they may
find it out, to take with it. I wonder, since Antinomians make unbelief
the only sin in the world, that they cannot endure the discovery and
confession of it. It seems they do not think it so heinous a sin. I
confess, no man should of purpose abstain from believing in Christ, till
he find out whether he hath believed or not; but whatever hath been, he is
bound presently to act faith in Jesus Christ; to flee unto him as a lost
sinner, to a saving Mediator. But that every man is bound to persuade
himself at the first, that God hath loved him, and Christ redeemed him, is
the hope of the hypocrite,—like a spider’s web, which, when leaned to,
shall not stand. That man’s expectation shall perish; he hath kindled
sparks of his own,—a wild-fire, and walketh not in the true light of the
word, and so must lie down in sorrow. Many of you deceive yourselves, and
none can persuade you that ye do deceive yourselves, such is the strength
of that delusion and dream. It is the great part of the heart’s
deceitfulness, to flatter itself in its own eyes: to make a man conceive
well of himself and his heart. I beseech you, do not venture your soul’s
salvation on such groundless opinions; never to question the matter, is to
leave it always uncertain. If you would judge yourselves according to the
Scriptures, many of you have the marks and characters of those who are
kept without the city, and are to have their part in the lake of fire. Is
there no condemnation for you, who have never condemned yourselves?
Certainly the more you are averse to condemn yourselves, this sticks the
closer to you. You are not all in Christ; “they are not all Israel which
are of Israel.” Many (nay the most part) are but said Christians; have no
real union with Christ, or principle of life from him. The love you carry
to yourselves, makes you easily believe well of yourselves; know, that
self-love can blind the eyes, and make you apprehend that God loves you
also. Nay, every one readily fancies that to be, which he desires to be. I
beseech you, consider if you have any ground for your hopes and
confidences, but such as those that will not bear out always. It would be
no disadvantage to you, to have your hope shaken, that instead of a vain
presumption, you may have the anchor of hope, which shall be fixed within
the vail. I think one thing keeps men far from the kingdom of God,—because
they know not that they believe not in him. We had gained much ground on
you by the word, if we could persuade you that ye believe not, and have
not believed from the womb. We might then say to you, as Christ to his
disciples, “Ye believe in God, believe also in me.” Ye have given credit
to God the judge and lawgiver, pronouncing a curse on you, and a sentence
that ye have hearts desperately wicked,—now, believe also in me, the
Redeemer. Ye have believed God in the law, in as far as ye have judged
yourselves under sin and wrath; now, believe me in the gospel, that brings
a ransom from wrath, and a remedy for sin. It is this very unbelief, that
is the original of the world’s perishing,—unbelief of the law. Ye do not
consider ye are under the condemnation of it. Ye do not believe that ye
have not yet fled to Jesus Christ to escape it; and these two keep souls
in a deep sleep, till judgment awake them.
But unto every one of you, I would give this direction: Let not
examination of what you are, hinder you from that which is your chief
duty, and his chief commandment,—to believe in him. I know many Christians
are puzzled in the matter of their interest, and always wavering, because
they are more taken up with that which is but a matter of comfort and joy,
than that which is his greatest honour and glory. I say, to consider the
precious promises; to believe the excellency and virtue of Jesus Christ,
and love him in your souls, and delight in him, is the weightiest matter
of the gospel. To go out of yourselves daily into his fulness, to
endeavour new discoveries of your own naughtiness and his grace, this is
the new and great commandment of the gospel. The obedience of it is the
most essential part of a Christian walk. Now, again, to know that ye do
believe, and to discern your interest in Christ, this is but a matter of
comfort and of second concernment. Therefore, I say, whenever ye cannot be
clear in this, ye should be always exercised in the first. For it is that
we are first called to; and if souls were more exercised that way, in the
consideration and belief of the very general truths and promises of the
gospel, I doubt not, but the light of these would clear up their
particular interest in due time. “These ought ye to have done, and not to
leave the other undone.” It is still safest to waive such a question of
interest, when it is plunging,(165) because it puts you off your special
duty, and this is Satan’s intent in it. It were better if ye do question,
presently to believe and abide in him, till it were put out of question.
Sermon IV.
Verse 1.—“Who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.”
Christ is made to us of God both righteousness and sanctification; and
therefore, those who are in Christ do not only escape condemnation, but
they walk according to the Spirit, and not according to the flesh. These
two are the sum of the gospel. There is not a greater argument to holy
walking than this,—there is no condemnation for you, neither is there a
greater evidence of a soul having escaped condemnation, than walking
according to the Spirit. We have spoken something in general of the
evidence that may be had of a man’s state, from his walking, and the
Spirit’s working in him; we would now speak of the conjunction of these
two, and the influence that that privilege hath on this duty, and
something of the nature of this description, “who walk not after the
flesh, but after the Spirit.”
In the creation of man, man was composed of soul and body. There was a
right order, and subordination of these, suitable to their nature. In his
soul he reached angels above,—in his body he was like the beasts below;
and this part, his flesh, was a servant to the soul, that was acted and
affected according to the desires and motives of the soul. Now sin
entering, as it hath defaced all the beauty of the creation, as it hath
misplaced man, and driven him out from that due line of subordination to
God his Maker, for he would have been equal to God, so it hath perverted
this beautiful order in men, and turned it just contrary,—hath made the
servant to ride on horses, and the prince to walk on foot. This is the
just punishment of our first sin. Adam’s soul was placed by creation under
the sole command of its Creator, above all the creatures, and his own
senses; but in one sin, he proudly exalted himself above God, and
lamentably subjected himself below his senses, by hearkening to their
persuasion. He saw it was good, and tasted it, and it was sweet, and so he
ate of it. What a strange way was this! To be like God, he made himself
unlike himself, liker the miserable beasts. Now, I say, this is the
deserved punishment of man. His soul, that was a free prince, is made a
bond slave to the lusts of his flesh; flesh hath gotten the throne, and
keeps it, and lords it over the whole man. Now therefore it is, that the
whole man unregenerate, is called flesh, as if he had no immortal spirit,
John iii. 6, “that which is born of the flesh is flesh;” and this chap.
ver. 8, has a description of natural men, “they that are in the flesh;”
because flesh is the predominant part that hath captivated a man’s reason
and will. Nay, not only the grosser corruptions in a man, that have their
use and seat in his flesh and body, are under that name;—but take the
whole nature of man, that which is most excellent in him, his soul and
spirit, his light and understanding, the most refined principles of his
conversation,—all these are now but flesh. Nay, not only such natural
gifts and illuminations but even the light of the gospel, and law of God,
that someway enters his soul, changeth the nature and name,—it is all but
darkness and flesh in him, because the flesh hath a dominion over all
that. The clouds and vapours that arise from the flesh, bemist(166) and
obscure all these; the corruptions of the soul are most strengthened in
this sort, and most vented here. Sin is become connatural to the flesh,
and so a man, by the flesh, is ensnared and subjected to sin. Christ
comprehends all our prerogatives and endowments under this. John i. 13,
“born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh;” and Matt. xvi. 17,
“flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee.” Even all the outwards of
religion, and all the common privileges of Christians may be called so.
What hath Abraham found according to the flesh? Rom. iv. 1, Phil. iii.
3;—which imports so much, that all those outward privileges, many
illuminations, and reformations, may so far consist with the corruption of
man’s nature, may unite so with that, as to have one name with it. It is
not all able to conquer our flesh, but our flesh rather subdues all that,
and makes it serve itself, till a stronger than it come, even the Spirit,
to subdue it and cast it out of the house. Thus the image of God in man is
defaced; nay, the very image and nature of man, as man, spoiled. The first
creation,—sin hath marred and disordered it. Now, when this second
creation, or regeneration comes, the creature is made new, and formed
again by the powerful Spirit of Jesus Christ. This change is made, flesh
is put out of the throne, as an usurper; the spirit and soul of a man is
put in a throne above it, but placed according to its due order, under a
holy and spiritual law of God. And thus Jesus Christ is the repairer of
the breaches, and restorer of the ancient paths and old wastes, to dwell
in. Now the soul hath a new rule established to act according to, and new
principles to act from. He whose course of walking was after the corrupt
dictates and commands of his fleshly affections, and was of no higher
strain than his own sparks of nature, and acquired light would lead him
to, now he hath a new rule established,—the Spirit speaking in the word to
him, and pointing out the way to him. And there is a new principle, that
Spirit leading him in all truth, and quickening him to walk in it. Now
this is the soul’s perfect liberty, to be from under the dominion of sin
and lusts; and thus the Son makes free indeed by the free Spirit. The Son
was made a servant, that we might be made free, no more servants of sin in
the lusts thereof: and the Spirit of the Lord, where he comes, there is
liberty; there the spirit and reasonable soul of a man is elevated into
its first native dignity; there the base flesh is dethroned, and made to
serve the spirit and soul in a man. Christ is indeed the greatest friend
of men, as they are men. Sin made us beasts, Christ makes us men.
Unbelievers are unreasonable men, αλογος, brutish, yea, in a manner,
beasts;—this is an ordinary compellation in scripture. Faith makes a man
reasonable,—it gives the saving and sanctified use of reason. It is a
shame for any man to be a slave to his lusts and passions. It is the
character of a beast upon him. He that is led by senses and affections, is
degenerated from human nature; and yet such are all out of Christ. Sin
reigns in them, and flesh reigns, and the principles of light and reason
within are captivated, incarcerated within a corner of their minds. We see
the generally received truths among men, that God is, that he is holy, and
just, and good; that heaven and hell is,—these are altogether ineffectual,
and have no influence on men’s conversations, no more than if they were
not known, even because the truth is detained in unrighteousness. The
corruptions of men’s flesh are so rank, that they overgrow all this seed
of truth, and choke it, as the thorns did the seed, Matt. xiii. 7. Now,
for you, who are called of Jesus Christ, O know what ye are called unto!
It is a liberty indeed, a privilege indeed. Ye are no more debtors to the
flesh;—Christ hath loosed that obligation of servitude to it. O let it be
a shame unto you, who are Christians, to walk so any more, to be entangled
any more in that yoke of bondage! “He that ruleth his spirit” is greater
than the mighty, “than he that taketh a city.” Thus we are called to be
more than conquerors. Others, when they conquer the world, are slaves to
their own lusts; but let it be far from you to be so. Ye ought to conquer
yourselves, which is more than to conquer the world. It is not only
unbeseeming a Christian, to be led with passions and lusts, but it is
below a man, if men were not now through sin below beasts. I beseech you,
aspire unto, and hold fast, the liberty Christ hath obtained for you. Be
not fashioned any more according to former lusts. Know, ye are men,—that
ye have reasonable and immortal spirits in you. Why will ye then walk as
beasts? “Understand, ye brutish! and ye fools, when will ye be wise!” But
I say more; know, ye are Christians, and this is more than to be a man,—it
is to be a divine man, one partaker of the divine nature, and who is to
walk accordingly. Christians are called to a new manner of walking, and
this walking is a fruit that comes out of the root of faith, whereby they
are implanted in Christ. You see these agree well together. Those who are
in Christ, “walk not after the flesh,” &c. Walking after the flesh, is the
common walk of the world, who are without God and without Christ, but
Christ gives no latitude to such a walk. This is a new nature to be in
Christ, and therefore it must have new operations,—to walk after the
Spirit. While we look upon the conversations of the most part of men, they
may be a commentary to expound this part of the words, what it is to walk
after the flesh. “The works of the flesh,” saith the apostle, Gal. v. 19,
“are manifest,”—and indeed they are manifest, because written in great
letters on the outside of many in the visible church, that who runs may
read them. Do but read that catalogue in Paul, and then come and see them
in congregations. It is not so doubtful and subtile a matter, to know that
many are yet without the verge of Christ Jesus, without the city of
refuge. You may see their mark on their brow. Is not drunkenness, which is
so frequent, a palpable evidence of this,—your envyings, revilings, wrath,
strife, seditions, fornications, and such like? O do not deceive
yourselves! There is no room in Jesus Christ for such impurities and
impieties. There is no toleration of sin within this city and kingdom.
Sinners are indeed pardoned, yea received and accepted, drunkards, unclean
persons, &c., are not excluded from entering here,—but they must renounce
these lusts, if they would stay here. Christ will not keep both,—he must
either cast out the sin, or the sinner with it, if he will not part with
it. I beseech you, know what ye walk after, the flesh is your leader, and
whither will it lead you?—O! it is sad to think on it,—to perdition, ver.
13, “If ye live after the flesh, ye shall die.” Ye think flesh your great
friend, ye do all ye can to satisfy and please it, and, O how pleasant is
the satisfaction of your flesh to you! Ye think it liberty to follow it,
and count it bonds and cords to be restrained. But, oh! know and consider,
that flesh will lead you by the kingdom, that guide of your way, to which
you committed yourself, will lead you by heaven, Gal. v. 21. It is a blind
guide, corruption and humour, and will have no eyes, no discerning of that
pit of eternal misery. They choose the way that is best pathed and
trodden—that is easiest, and that most walk into, and this certainly will
lead you straight into this pit of darkness. Be called off this way, from
following your blind lusts, and rather suffer them to be crucified. Be
avenged on them for your two eyes that they have put out, and their
treacherous dealing to you, in leading you the high way to destruction.
Come in to Jesus Christ, and ye shall get a new guide of the way,—the
Spirit that shall lead you into all truth, unto the blessed and eternal
life. Christ is the way ye must walk in, and the life that we must go into
at the end of our way, and the truth according to which we must walk. Now
he hath given his Spirit, the Comforter, to be our leader in this way,
according to this rule and pattern unto that life. In a word the Spirit
shall lead you the straight way unto Christ. You shall begin in him, and
end in him. He shall lead you from grace to glory. The Spirit that came
down from heaven, shall lead you back to heaven. All your walk is within
the compass of Christ,—out of him is no way to heaven.
But we must not take this so grossly, as if no other thing were a walking
after the flesh, but the gross abominations among men, though even these
will scrape a great number from being in Christ Jesus, but it must be
further enlarged, to the motions and affections of the unrenewed spirit,
and the common principles according to which men walk. And therefore the
apostle, Col. iii., Gal. v., nameth many things among the works of the
flesh, and members of the old man, which I doubt whether many will account
so of,—some natural passions that we account nothing of, because common,
as anger, wrath, covetousness. What man is there amongst us, in whom some
of these mentioned stir not? Many of your hearts and eyes are given to
covetousness, your souls bow downward as your bodies do, and many times
before your bodies. Is not the heart of men upon this world, and cannot
rise above to a treasure in heaven? And therefore your callings otherwise
lawful, and all your pains and endeavours in them, hath this seal of the
flesh stamped on them, and pass no otherwise with God. We see how rank the
corruptions of men are, anger domineering in them, and leading them often
captive. And this is counted a light matter, but it is not so in
scripture. How often is it branded with folly by the wise man! And this
folly is even the natural fleshly corruption that men are born with, and
in how many doth it rise up to the elevation of malice and hatred of
others? And then it carries the image of the devil, rather than of human
infirmity. And if we suppose a man not much given to any of these, yet
what a spirit of pride and self love is in every man, even those that
carry the lowest sail, and the meanest port among men,—those that are
affable and courteous and those that seem most condescending to inferiors
and equals. Yet, alas! this evil is more deeply engraven on the spirit. If
a man could but watch over his heart, and observe all the secret
reflections of it, all the comparisons it makes, all the desires of
applause and favour among men, all the surmises and stirrings of spirit
upon any affront, O how would they discover diabolic pride! This sin is
the more natural and inbred, for that it is our mother-sin that brought us
down from our excellency. This weed grows upon a glass window, and upon a
dunghill. It lodges in palaces and cottages. Nay, it will spring and grow
out of a pretended humility, and low carriage. In a word, the ambitious
designs of men, the large appetite of earthly things, the overweening
conceit of ourselves, and love to ourselves, the stirring of our
affections, without observing a rule upon unlawful objects, or in an
unlawful manner,—all these are common to men, and men walk after them.
Every man hath some predominant or idol, that takes him most up. Some are
finer and subtiler than others, some have their pleasures and gains
without, others their own gifts and parts within, but both are alike
odious before God, and both gross flesh and corruption before him.
There are two errors among men concerning this spiritual walking,—the one
is the doctrine of some in these days, the other is the practical error of
many of us. Many pretending to some near and high discoveries, as to
Christ and the Spirit, have fallen upon the most refined and spiritualized
flesh instead of the Spirit indeed. They separate the Spirit from the
word, and reckon the word and law of God, which was a lamp to David’s
feet, among the fleshly rudiments of the world. But if they speak not
“according to the law and to the testimony,” saith Isaiah, “it is because
there is no light in them.” Thus their new light is but an old darkness,
that could not endure even the darker light of the prophets. If they speak
not according to the word, it is because there is no spirit in them. Is it
not the Spirit the Comforter, which Christ promised to send to the
apostles, and all that should believe in his name through their word? For
that Spirit was a Spirit of truth, that should lead into all truth. And
lest men should father their own fancies and imaginations on the Spirit of
God, Christ adds, “he shall bring all things to your remembrance”—those
things that Christ hath spoken, and we have here written. The holy apostle
to the Colossians, chap. iii. when he reproves the works of the flesh, and
declares they had put them off, commends unto them, in opposition to
these, “let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching
one another in psalms and spiritual songs, with grace in your hearts to
the Lord,” ver. 16,—the Spirit here, not casting out the word, but
bringing it in plentifully, and sweetly agreeing with it. The Spirit that
Christ sent, did not put men above ordinances, but above corruptions, and
the body of death in them. It is a poor and easy victory to subdue grace
and ordinances—every slave of the devil doth that. I fear, as men and
angels fell from their own dignity, by aspiring higher, so those that will
not be content with the estate of Christ and his apostles, but soar up in
a higher strain of spirit, and trample on that ministration as fleshly and
carnal,—I fear they fall from Jesus Christ, and come into greater
condemnation. It is true indeed, 2 Cor. iii. 6, “the letter killeth,” that
is, the covenant of works preacheth now nothing but condemnation to men,
but the Spirit of the gospel giveth life, nay, even the gospel separated
from the Spirit of life in Jesus, is but a savour of death to souls. Shall
we therefore separate the Spirit from the gospel and word, because the
word alone cannot quicken us? David knew how to reconcile this,—“Quicken
thou me according to thy word,” Psal. cxix. 25—“Thy Spirit is good, lead
me into the land of uprightness, quicken me, O Lord,” Psal. cxliii. 10,
11. The word was his rule, and the Spirit applied his soul to the rule.
The word holds out the present pattern we should be conformed unto. Now if
there be no more, a man may look all his days on it, and yet not be
changed, but the Spirit within, transforms and changes a man’s soul to
more and more conformity to that pattern, by beholding it. If a man shall
shut his eyes on the pattern, he cannot know what he is, and ought to be.
If he look only on the Spirit’s work within, and make that his rule, he
takes an imperfect rule, and an incomplete copy. And yet this is the
highest attainment of these aspirers to new light. They have forsaken the
word as their rule, and instead of it, have another law within them, as
much as is already written on their hearts, which is in substance this, as
they suppose,—I am bound to do no more than I have already power to do; I
am not to endeavour more holiness than I have already. These men are
indeed perfect here in their own apprehension, and do not know in part,
and believe in part, and obey in part, because they are advanced the
length of their own law and rule, their rule being of no perfection. Paul
was not so, but forgetting what he had attained, he followed on to what
was before him, and was still reaching forward. Let not us, my brethren,
believe every spirit, and every doctrine that comes out under that
name,—Christ hath forewarned us. Pray for more of that Spirit, which may
quicken the word to us, and quicken us to obey the word. There must be a
mutual enlivening. The word must be made the ministration of life by the
Spirit of Jesus, which can use it as a sword to divide the soul and
spirit; and we must be quickened to the obedience of the truth in the
word. The word is the seed incorruptible; but it cannot beget us, or be a
principle of new life within us, except a living spirit come along to our
hearts. Know that the word is your pattern and rule; the Spirit your
leader and helper, whose virtue and power must conform you to that rule, 1
Pet. i. 22. Peter joins these two,—the purification and cleansing the
soul, which Christ attributes to the word, “Ye are clean through the word
which I have spoken,” John xv. 3. Peter attributes it to the Spirit
working according to the pattern of truth. It is true the Spirit of God
needs no pattern to look to; nay, but we must have it, and eye it, else we
know not the Spirit of truth from a lie and delusion. We cannot try the
spirits but by this rule; and it is by making us steadfastly look on this
glorious pattern in the word, and the example of Christ Jesus’ life, that
we are conformed unto Christ, as by the Spirit of the Lord, 2 Cor. iii.
13. Certainly that must be fleshly walking, which is rather conformed unto
the imaginations of a man’s own heart, than the blessed will of God
revealed in his word. Can such walking please God, when a man will not so
much as hearken to what is God’s will and pleasure? As other heresies, so
especially this, is a work of the flesh.
Now there is another principle amongst many of us. We account it spiritual
walking, to be separated from the gross pollutions of the world, to have a
carriage blameless before men. This is the notion that the multitude fancy
of it. Be not deceived,—you may pass the censure of all men, and be
unreprovable among them, and yet be but walkers after the flesh. It is not
what you are before the world can prove you spiritual men, though it may
prove many of you carnal. Your outside may demonstrate of many of you that
ye walk after the flesh; and if ye will not believe it, I ask you if ye
think drunkenness a walking in the Spirit? Do ye think ye are following
the Spirit of God in uncleanness? Is it not that Holy Spirit that purgeth
from all filthiness? Look but what your walk is, ye that are not so much
as conformed to the letter of the word in any thing; who care not to read
the scriptures and meditate on them. Is this walking after the Spirit of
truth? If drunkenness, railing, contention, wrath, envy, covetousness, and
such like, be the Spirit’s way, then I confess many of you walk after the
Spirit; but if these be the manifest works of the flesh, and manifestly
your way and work, then why dream ye that ye are Christians?
But I suppose, that ye could be charged with none of these outward things;
that you had a form of religion and godliness, yet I say, all that is
visible before men cannot prove you to be spiritual walkers. Remember it
is a Spirit ye must walk after; now, what shall be the chief agent here?
Sure, not the body,—what fellowship can your body have with him that is a
Spirit? The body, indeed, may worship that eternal Spirit, being acted by
the spirit; but I say, that alone can never prove you to be Christians. We
must then lay aside a number of professors, who have no other ground of
confidence but such things as may be seen of men; and if they would enter
their hearts, how many vain thoughts lodge there! How little of God is
there! God is not almost in all our thoughts; we give a morning and
evening salutation, but there is no more of God all the day throughout.
And is this walking after the Spirit, which imports a constancy? And what
part can be spared most, but the spirit of a man? The body is distracted
with other necessary things, but we might always spare our souls to God.
Now, thus should a man obey that command,—“pray always.” It is impossible
that he should do nothing else but pray in an express formal way; but the
soul’s walking with God, between times of prayer, should compensate that.
And thus prayer is continued, though not in itself, yet in meditation on
God, which hath in it the seed of all worship, and is virtually prayer and
thanksgiving, and all duties.
Let us then consider, if our bodies be not more exercised in religion than
our souls, yea, if they be not the chief agents. How many impertinencies,
and roveries, and wanderings, are throughout the day? The most part of our
conversation, if it be not profane, yet it is vain, that is, unprofitable
in the world. It neither advantageth us spiritually, nor glorifies God. It
is almost to no purpose; and this is enough to make it all flesh. And for
our thoughts, how do they go unlimited and unrestrained?—like a wild ass,
traversing her ways, and gadding about, fixed on nothing,—at least not on
God; nay, fixed on any thing but God. If it be spiritual service, should
it not carry the seal of our spirit and affection on it? We are as so many
shadows walking, as pictures and statues of Christians, without the soul
and life, which consists in the temper and disposition of the spirit and
soul towards God.
Sermon V.
Verse 1.—“Who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.”
It is no wonder that we cannot speak any thing to purpose of this subject,
and that you do not bear with fruit, because it is indeed a mystery to our
judgments, and a great stranger to our practice. There is so little of the
Spirit, both in teachers and those that come to be taught, that we can but
speak of it as an unknown thing, and cannot make you to conceive it, in
the living notion of it as it is. Only we may say in general,—it is
certainly a divine thing, and another thing than our common or religious
walk is. It is little experienced, so we can know the less of it; but this
much we should know,—it is another thing than we have attained. It is
above us, and yet such a thing as we are called to aspire unto. How should
it stir up in our spirits a holy fire of ambition to be at such a thing,
when we hear it is a thing attainable: nay, when Christ calls us unto
himself, that we may thus walk with him! I would have Christians men of
great and big projects and resolutions; of high and unlimited desires, not
satisfied with their attainments, but still aspiring unto more of God,
more conformity to his will, more walking after the Spirit, more
separation from the course of the world. And this is indeed to be of a
divine spirit. The divine nature is here, as it were, in a state of
violence, out of its own element. Now, it is known by this, if it be still
moving upwards, taking no rest in this place, and these measures and
degrees, but upon a continual motion towards the proper centre of it,—God,
his holiness, and Spirit.
We desire to speak a word of these three. First, The nature of the
spiritual walking. Next, Its connection and union with that blessed state
of non-condemnation. And then of the order of this, how it flows from a
man’s being implanted in Christ Jesus;—which three are considerable(167)
in the words.
This spiritual walking is according to a spiritual rule, from spiritual
principles, for spiritual ends. These three being established aright, the
walk is even the motion of a Christian within the compass of these. It is
according to the word, as the holy rule; it is from the faith and love of
Jesus Christ, as the predominant principles. Nay, from the Spirit of
Jesus, living in the heart by faith, and dwelling in it by love, as the
first wheel of this motion, the _primum mobile_. And as it begins in the
spirit, so it ends there, in the glory of Jesus Christ, and our heavenly
Father. Consider this then—it is not a lawless walking and irregular walk,
it is according to the rule, and the rule is perfect, and it is a motion
to perfection, not a rest in what is now attained to. The course of this
world is the way and rule of the children of disobedience; Eph. ii. 2.
There is a spirit indeed that works in them, and a rule it works by. The
spirit is that evil spirit, contrary to the Holy Spirit of God, and you
may know what spirit it is that works, by the way it leads men unto—a
broad way, pathed and trodden in by many travellers. It is the kings high
street, the common way that most part walk into according as their
neighbours do, as the most do. But that king is the prince of this world,
Satan, who blinds the eyes of many, that they may not see that pit of
misery before them, which their way leads them to. A Christian must have a
kind of singularity, not in opinion but in practice rather, to be more
holy, and walk more abstracted from the dregs of the worlds pollution.
This were a divine singularity. Indeed men may suspect themselves, that
separate from the godly in opinion. They have reason to be more jealous of
themselves when they offend against the generation of the just. But if
this were the intention and design of men, or be very unlike the multitude
of men, nay, to be very unlike the multitude of professors, in the
affection and practice of holiness humility, and spiritual walking, I
think this were an allowed way, though a singular way. Men may aspire to
as great a difference as may be, from the conversations and practice of
others, if there be a tending to more conformity to the word, the rule of
all practice. The law is spiritual and “holy,” saith Paul “but I am
carnal.” Thus, therefore, were spiritual walking,—to see its excellent
spiritual rule before our eyes that we who are carnal may be transformed
and changed into more likeness to that holy and spiritual law. If a man
had not an imperfect rule of his own fancy and imagination before his
eyes, he could not be satisfied with his attainments, but, with Paul,
would forget them,—in a manner, not know them, but reach forward still to
what is before. Because so much length would be before us, as would
swallow up all our progress,—this would keep the motion on foot and make
it constant. A man should never say, “Master, let us make tabernacles, it
is good to be here.” No, indeed, the dwelling place and resting would be
seen to be above. As long as a man had so much of his journey to
accomplish, he would not sit down in his advancement, he would not compare
with others, and exalt himself above others. Why? Because there is still a
far greater distance between him and his rule, than between the slowest
walker and him. This made Paul more sensible of a body of death, (Rom.
vii.) than readily lower Christians are. Reflections on our attainments
and comparisons with others, which are so often the work of our spirit,
are a retrograde motion, it makes no way but spends the time,—is a
returning as we go, whereas we ought to go straight forward. I beseech
you, Christians, consider what you are doing, if you would prove
yourselves so indeed. I know not how you can evidence it better than by
honouring and esteeming his word and commandments,—exceeding large and
precious, no end of their perfection. The word is much undervalued in the
opinions of many, but it is as little cared for in the practice of most.
There is certainly little of God there where this is not magnified and
honoured. There must be darkness in that way, where this candle, which was
a lamp to David’s feet, shines not. Some promise to us liberty, but they
themselves are the servants of corruption, it is no liberty to be above
all law and rule. It was innocent Adam’s liberty to be conformed to a holy
and just command, nay, this was his beauty. This Spirit indeed gives
liberty where he is, but this liberty is from our sins and corruptions,
not to them. It looses the chains of a man’s own corrupt lusts off him, to
walk at freedom in the way of his commandments. The Spirit enlargeth the
prisoner’s heart, and then he runs, but not at random, but the way of his
commands, Psalm cxix. 32. It was our bondage to be as wild asses,
traversing our ways,—to be gadding abroad, to change our way. Now, here is
the Spirit’s liberty to bring us into the way and that way is one. Let us
then learn this one principle,—the word must be the rule of your walking
both common and religious. Alas! it is not spiritual walking to confine
religion to some solemn duties. Remember, it is a walk, a continued thing,
without interruption, therefore your whole conversation ought to be as so
many steps progressive to hearer. Your motion should not be to begin only
when you come to pray, or read, or hear, as many men do. They are in a
quite different way and element when they step out of their civil callings
into religious ordinances. But Christians, your motion should be continued
in your eating and drinking, and sleeping, and acting in your callings,
that when you come to pray or read, you may be but stepping forward in the
way, out of one darker, obscurer path, into a more beaten way. Remember,
this word can make us perfect to salvation. It is a principle in the
hearts of folks, which is vented now by many, that the word doth not reach
their particular carriages and conversations in civil matters. These are
apprehended to be without the sphere and compass of the word, while it is
commonly cast up to ministers—meddle with the word and spiritual things
and not with our matters.(168) Truly I think, if we separate these from
the word, we may quickly separate all religion from such actions, and if
such actings and businesses be without the court of the word, they are
also without the court of conscience, conscience, religion, and the word
being commensurable. Therefore I beseech every one of you, take the word
for the ruling of your callings and conversations among men. Extend it to
all your actions, that in all these you may act as Christians as well as
men. It is certainly the licentiousness of the spirits of men, that cannot
endure the application of the word unto their particular actions and
conversation.
Now this spiritual walk proceeds from spiritual principles. It is certain,
the Spirit of Jesus Christ is he “in whom we live, and move, and have our
being” spiritually. Without him we can do nothing. And therefore
Christians ought to walk with such a subordination to, and dependence on
him, as if they were mere instruments, and patients under his hand. Though
I think in regard of endeavoured activity they should bestir themselves
and give all diligence, as if they acted independently of the Spirit, yet
in regard of denial of himself, and dependence on the Spirit, each one
ought to act as if he did not act at all but the Spirit only acted in him.
This is the divinity of Paul,—“I laboured more abundantly than they all,
yet not I, but grace in me. I live, yet not I, but Christ in me.” O how
difficult a thing is it to reconcile these two in the practice of
Christians which yet cannot really be, except they be together! It is
certainly one of the great mysteries of Christianity, to draw our strength
and activity from another, to look upon ourselves and our actings, as
these that can do nothing—as empty vines, and that notwithstanding of all
infused and acquired principles. Whatever we ought to do in judging and
discerning of our condition, yet sure I am, Christians, in the exercise
and practice of godliness, should look upon themselves void of any
principle in themselves either to do or think. Not that we are sufficient
of ourselves. The proficient and growing Christian should look no more on
his own inclinations and habits than if he had none. He should consider
himself an ungodly man, that no fruit can grow upon, one that cannot pray,
as he is in himself. But, alas we come to duties in the confidence of
qualifications for duties, act more confidently in them because accustomed
to them, and so make grace and religion a kind of art and discipline, that
use and experience make expert unto. Learn now this one thing, which would
be instead of many rules and doctrine to us,—to shut out of your eyes the
consideration of what you are by gifts, or grace, or experience. Do not
consider that, but rather fix your eyes on the grace of Jesus Christ, and
upon the power and virtue of the Holy Spirit, which is given by promise,
that when the way is all the easier to you, both by delight and custom,
yet you may find it to your natural principles as insuperable as at the
beginning, and may still cry out, “Draw me, and I will run after thee,
lead me, and I will walk with thee.” Do not measure the call into duties
by the strength thou findest in thyself, but look unto him who
strengtheneth us with all might. Now, the Spirit worketh in us by
subordinate spiritual principles, as believing in Christ and loving of
him, as our Lord and Saviour, and these two acts drive on a soul sweetly
in the way of obedience. Fear, where not mixed in its actings with faith
and love, is a spirit of bondage, but the Christian ought to walk
according to the spirit of adoption which cries “Abba, Father.” Yet how
many Christians are rather in a servile and slavish manner driven on by
terrors and chastisements to their duty than by love! There is a piece of
liberty in Christian walking, when there is not a restraint upon the
spirit, by this slavish fear. This, I say, is not beseeming those that are
in Christ Jesus. You ought to have the Spirit of your Father for your
leader and guide. O how sweet, and how certain and necessary also, would
this walking be! The love of Christ would be an inward principle of
motion, and would make our spiritual actings as easy and pleasant as
natural motions are. Fear is but a violent principle, that is like the
impulse of a stone thrown upward, as long as that external impression
remains, it moves, but still slower and slower, and at length evanisheth.
But if you believed in him, and your hearts were engaged to love him, O
how would it be a pleasant and native thing to walk in his way, as a stone
goeth downward! Consider your principles, that act you to matters and
duties of religion. Many men there be, in whom there appears no difference
of their work to beholders; but O how wide a difference doth God discern
in them! Engines and artifice may make dead and lifeless things move and
walk as orderly as things that have life. But the principle of this motion
makes a huge difference:—the one is moved from without, the other from
itself. The most part of us act as irrational and brute beasts in
religion: nay, we walk as inanimate and senseless creatures. It is some
one or other consideration without us moves us,—custom, censure,
education, and such like. Ah! these are the principles of our religion.
How many would have no religion, no form of it, if they were not among
such company! And therefore we see many change it according to companies,
as the fish doth its skin, according to the colour of that which is
nearest it. How many would do many things they dare not for punishment and
censure, and for that same dare not leave other things undone! In a word,
the most part of us are such as would walk in no path of godliness, if it
were not the custom of the time and fear of men that constrained us. But,
my brethren, let it not be so among you, you who are in Christ Jesus. Let
this be predominant in your hearts to constrain you not to live to
yourselves, but unto God, even this,—that you believe Christ hath died for
sinners, that they might live from sin. And from this let your hearts be
inflamed with his love, that it may carry you on in a sweet and blessed
necessity to walk in all well-pleasing. Let the consideration of his love
lay on a constraint, but a constraint of willingness, to live to him who
hath thus loved you. But as the principle is spiritual, so must the end
be; and I think these two complete the mystery of the practice of
Christianity,—to act from another principle unto another end; even as
these two make up the mystery of iniquity in our hearts,—to act from
ourselves unto ourselves. Every man naturally makes a god of himself, is
his own Alpha and Omega, the beginning of his actions, and the end of
them, which is proper to God. As the fall hath cut off the subordination
of the soul to God in its actions, that it cannot now derive all from that
blessed Fountain of all-being and well-being, so is this channel of
reference of all our actions to God stopped, that they do not tend unto
him, as they are not derived from him; and thus they return unto a man’s
self again. There is one point of self, and making it our aim and design,
which possibly many do not take heed unto. It is ordinary for us to act
and walk in Christian duties, for our salvation,—for obtaining of life
eternal, as our chief and only end, which is but an inferior end; because
we ought not to walk mainly for life, but to life. We should not walk
after the command only for heaven, but in the way of it unto heaven. Our
spiritual walking can never purchase us a right unto the least of his
mercies. When we have done all, this should be our soul’s language,—We are
unprofitable servants, our righteousness extends not to thee. What gain is
it to the Almighty that thou art righteous? Yet for the most part, we make
our walking as a hire for the reward. The covenant of works,—doing for
life, is some way naturally imprinted in our hearts, and we cannot do, but
we would live in doing; we cannot walk unto all well-pleasing, but we
would also walk unto pacifying of God. Self-righteousness is men’s great
idol, which, when all other baser and grosser idols are down, they do
still seek to establish. But, Christians, observe this evil in yourselves
and suffer this mystery of godliness to be wrought in you,—the abasing of
yourselves, the denial of yourselves. I would have you, in respect of
diligence and earnestness, doing, walking, and running, as if ye were to
be saved by it only. But again, you must deny all that, and no more
consider it, or lean upon it, than if ye ought to do nothing, or did
nothing. But your ends should be more divine and high, as your nature
is,—to glorify God in your mortal bodies, since ye are his, and bought
with a price. O how ought ye not to be your own! The great purpose of your
obedience should be, a declaration of your sense of his love, and of your
obligation to him. Ye ought to walk in his way, because ye are escaped
condemnation, and saved by him, and not that ye may be saved only. It is
the glory of our heavenly Father, and the honour of the Redeemer, for
Christians to walk, even as he walked, and follow his footsteps. It
commends the grace of Jesus Christ exceedingly. Therefore this cannot but
be the choice and delight of a believing soul,—to walk unto all
well-pleasing, to have the glory of him as their great design to aim at:
who for our salvation laid aside his glory, and embraced shame and
reproach. We use to walk in obedience to God, that we may pacify God for
our disobedience. But let a Christian abhor such a thought. Christ’s blood
must pacify, but the walking of his child pleaseth him in his well-beloved
Son. When he is once pacified for sin, when he once accepts your persons,
your performances are his delight. Now this should be the great scope of a
soul, that all its powers should be fixed on,—to please him, and live to
him.
Now these three being established, we must conceive that the chief agent
and party in this walking must be spiritual; therefore men’s bodies are
not capable of this walk after the Spirit principally. Outward ordinances
are but the shell wherein the kernel must be enclosed. All our walking
that is visible to men, is but like a painted or engraven image and
statue, that hath no breath nor life in it, unless the Spirit actuate and
quicken the same. I say not only the Spirit of God, but the spirit and
soul in man; for the Spirit’s immediate and divine operations are upon
such a suitable subject as the immortal soul. Verily, there is a spirit in
man, and the inspiration of the Almighty gives him understanding. We must
not abolish the outward form, because it hath some divinity in it, even
the stamp of God’s authority; and therefore, those who are swelled above
ordinances, I fear they be monstrous Christians. A man is composed of a
spirit and a body, acted and quickened by that Spirit. Without either of
these he is not a complete man. So I say, he is not a Christian that doth
not worship God in the spirit and in truth both; and it is not religion
that excludes either the inward soul-communion with God, or the outward
ordinance and appointment of God. But, alas! this may be our complaint,—we
come and worship God, and draw nigh with our bodies, but our hearts are
far removed. Here is the death of many’s worship,—the soul is separated
from the body of it. These are but pictures and images of Christians. We
have mouths and faces of saints: but O how little of divine affection or
of soul-desires, breathes in us! We are deniers of the power of godliness,
by resting in a form, and this is the great sin of this generation. The
essentials, the vital spirits of Christianity are exhausted, and some dry
bones, like an anatomy of a Christian, remain behind. I beseech you,
gather your spirits to this spiritual walking: they only can follow the
Spirit. Your bodies are earthly and lumpish, and the way is all upward to
the holy hill. Look inwardly and measure yourselves so. Outward appearance
is no just measure. Retire within your souls, and engage them in this
exercise, and enter them to this motion, and your spirits will sweetly and
surely act your bodies and externals, in all matters of godliness.
Sermon VI.
Verse 1.—“Who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.”
It is one of the greatest mysteries in a Christian’s practice, to join
these two together, which the gospel hath conjoined,—justification and
sanctification, and to place them in their due order. There is much
miscarrying in both these, if they are either separated or misplaced. But
the truth is, they cannot really be, except they be jointly. Yet, often it
falls out, that in men’s apprehensions and endeavours, they are disjoined.
This, then, were the argument of a living, and believing Christian,—to
join the study of holiness, with the exercise of faith in Christ, for
remission of sin and righteousness; and not only to join it, but also to
derive it from that principle. There is both an union between these and an
order established in Scripture. The most part of those that profess the
gospel are of two sorts; they do either divide holiness from imputed
righteousness, or Christ’s righteousness from holiness. I do not say, that
any man truly seeks to be covered with the righteousness of Jesus Christ,
and to have his sins freely pardoned, but he will also study to walk
before God in all well-pleasing. But the truth is, many do pretend and
profess to seek salvation and forgiveness in Christ’s blood, and have the
mercy of God, and merits of Christ always in their mouth, who yet declare
by their conversation that they do not so much as desire or propose to
seek after holiness. I do not speak of those who are Antinomians in
profession, but of a great multitude in the visible church, who are really
more Antinomians, to wit, in practice, than most part of our professed
Antinomians. You hear all of free grace, and free redemption in Jesus
Christ, of tender and enduring mercies in God, and this you take for the
whole gospel; and presently, upon the notion of mercy and grace, you
conclude unto yourselves, not only immunity and freedom from all the
threatenings of the word, and from hell, but likewise ye proclaim secretly
in your own hearts, a liberty to sin so much the more securely. The door
of mercy cast open in the gospel, and the free access to Christ manifested
therein, through the corruption that is within us, proves the very
occasion of many’s giving indulgence to their lusts—of delaying
reformation, and turning to God. You all profess, that you seek to be
justified and saved by Jesus Christ; yea, you persuade yourselves to have
escaped condemnation by Christ. Now then, conjoin that profession and
persuasion with your walk, and O how contrary you may find them to one
another! “Your faith is vain,” for “ye are yet in your sins,” 1 Cor. xv.
17. The grace of God appearing to some men, effectually teacheth them to
deny ungodliness, and worldly lusts, and to live righteously, soberly, and
godly, Tit. ii. 11, 12. But if we may conjecture your teaching by your
walking, it seems the notion of grace and the gospel that is formed in
your minds, hath taught you another doctrine,—to avow ungodliness and
follow worldly lusts. Is there so much as a shadow of this spiritual
walking in many? I confess, it is natural for every man to seek his own
righteousness, and it is the arm of God that must bow men to submit to
Christ’s imputed righteousness. Yet, the most part of men seem to be so
far from seeking any righteousness, that they are rather seeking the
fulfilling of their own carnal lusts, working wickedness with greediness,
not caring how little they have to put confidence into. And yet, certain
it is, that how much soever a man attains to of a form of religion or
civil honesty, he is ready to put his trust in it, and to lean the weight
of his soul upon it. But seeing this is natural to you all, to seek heaven
by doing and working, I wonder that ye do no more. How do you satisfy your
consciences in the expectation of heaven, who take so little pains in
religion, and are so loose and profane in your conversation? I wonder,
seeing ye have it naturally engraven in your hearts to establish your own
righteousness, that ye labour not to have more of it to fill your eye
withal.
But again, on the other hand, there are some men, who have a form of
religion, and labour to be of a blameless conversation among men, that
possibly persuade themselves they are seeking holiness, and walking
spiritually. But, alas! you may find it but a painted and seeming
religion, that is an abomination in the sight of God; because it is to
them, all the ground of their acceptation before God. If ever this
question was moved in some of you, “What shall I do to be saved?” you have
condescended on such a walk, such a profession for the answer of it. It is
natural to all, even those who have least appearance of godliness, to seek
heaven by doing God’s will. Those that have no more to speak of than their
baptism, or receiving the Lord’s Supper, or attending well the solemn
assemblies, will ground their hope of salvation on these things. How much
more will the civil and honest men, commonly so called, who pray and read,
and profess godliness,—how much more, I say, will they establish that
which they attain to, as the ground of their confidence before God! Now,
this is a general unknown ill that destroys the world, and yet few are
convinced of it, how hard it is to be driven out of ourselves, and to seek
life in another. O know, that it is in a manner the crucifying of a man’s
self thus to deny himself,—to have a sort of righteousness, and not to
trust in it. Who is he that cannot endure to look upon himself for moral
vileness? Alas, men flatter themselves in their own eyes, and look with a
more favourable eye on their own actions, than they ought! Who is he that
abhors himself even for abominable works? But who shall be found to abhor
himself for his most religious and best actions? Who casts these out of
his sight as unclean and menstruous things? Therefore, I say, though thy
righteousness were equal to, or exceeded any Pharisee’s righteousness,
thou canst not enter into heaven. The poor publican, that was a vile and
profane sinner, yet had a righteousness exceeding the Pharisee’s. Though
he had none of his own, yet he had a righteousness without blemish, of
Christ’s purchasing, having by faith fled to the mercy of God, in and
through a Mediator. It is not more doing, more praying, more exact
walking, that can make you more righteous in God’s account, in order to
absolution from law-condemnation, than the profanest and most wretched
sinner. But the baser and viler thou be in thine own eyes, the more thou
hidest thy best doings from thine eyes, and lookest on thy uncleanness,
and betakest thyself to Christ, his unspotted and perfect righteousness,
the more honourable and precious thou art in his eyes. Therefore, God is
said to dwell in the heart of the humble and contrite one, not for the
worth of his humility and repentance; no, no, but for the pleasure he hath
in the Well-beloved’s righteousness. That is the beautiful garment, only
in the eye of a humbled soul, that seeth nothing in itself desirable.
Therefore, I wish that this conjunction which is made in the gospel, were
also engraven in your hearts, and on your practices, that is, that you
would seek after holiness, without which no man shall see God. Seek to
perfect it in the fear of God, but not as though ye were to be thereby
justified. Seek it with that diligence and earnest study, as if ye were to
be saved by it, and yet seek it, so as to be denied to your diligence, or
as if ye sought it not at all. How sweet a conjunction were this in the
Christian’s practice, to walk and run so after the prize, as if his
walking did obtain it, and yet to look upon his walking, as if it were not
at all. Your diligence and seriousness in godliness should be upon the
growing hand, as if doing did save you; yet you ought to deny all that,
and look to the righteousness of another, as if nothing were done at all
by you. How doth Paul, (Phil. iii. 8,) unite these in his practice, “I
count all loss and dung to be found in Christ, not having mine own
righteousness, and yet I press forward, and follow after perfection, as
having attained nothing yet.” One of these two is the original of many
stumblings and wanderings in our Christian way. Either there is not a
necessity and constraint laid upon the souls of many to walk in all
well-pleasing, and to perfect holiness in the fear of God,—we look on it
as a thing indifferent, that is to be determined according to the measure
of our receivings from God, or we look on it as a thing not urging all,
but belonging to ministers, or more eminent professors; and hence there
ariseth much carnal liberty, in walking without the line of Christian
liberty, because there is an indifference in the spirit that gives that
latitude in walking; or else there is not that following of holiness in
such a way, as can consist with the establishing of Christ’s
righteousness,—no denial of ourselves in our actions. We act as if we were
sufficient of ourselves, and walk as if we were thereby justified, and
commend ourselves to God in our own consciences, whenever we can have the
testimony of our consciences for well-doing. And by this means the Lord is
provoked. Because we do not honour the Son, the Father counts himself
despised, and the Spirit is grieved and tempted to depart, and leave us to
our own imaginations, till our idol which we established fall down, and
our understanding return to us.
As it would be of great moment to the peace of Christians, and increase of
holiness, to have that union of justification and sanctification stamped
on their hearts, so especially to have the due and evangelic method and
order of these impressed on their consciences, would conduce exceedingly
both to their quickening and comforting. As there is nothing, that either
so deadens or darkens, and saddens the spirits of the godly, as darkness
in this particular, the ignorance and mistake of the method and order of
that well-ordered covenant must certainly be very prejudicial to the life
and consolation tendered by the gospel. This spiritual walking flows from
the believer’s state of non condemnation in Christ. He is once in Jesus
Christ, and then he walks after the Spirit of Christ. You may make engines
to cause a dead statue walk, but it cannot walk of itself till it have a
principle of life in it. Walking is one of the operations of life, that
flows from some inward principle, and so this spiritual walk and motion of
a Christian in his course, is the proper operation of the new nature that
he is a partaker of in Christ Jesus. As, then, you know it is impossible
that there can be true and unfeigned walking, where there is no life, no
principle within, to put the creature to motion, though a man may by art
and some external impulse so act a piece of timber or stone, as it may
resemble to you a walking like to living creatures, so it is not possible
that any of the sons of Adam, who are by nature dead in sins, can walk
spiritually, before they be united to Jesus Christ, by believing in him
for righteousness and salvation. There may be such a walking of carnal
unregenerate men, as may deceive all the senses and judgments of
beholders. Men may be acting from base external principles in matters of
religion, so that a beholder shall perceive no difference between them and
others in whom Christ lives and walks; but before God it is nothing else
but an artificial walk, a painted and dead business, because the Spirit
that raised up Christ is not stirring in them. They are not living members
of that Head that quickens all, have not been driven out of their own
righteousness to Christ, the city of refuge. Their principles are no
higher than walking to obtain salvation, and acceptation of God in a legal
way, walking to pacify him, walking to please men and their own
consciences, walking for gain or credit, or advantage in the way, walking
according to custom or education in the way. These are not living
principles. But when once a soul hath embraced Christ Jesus within it, he
becomes in a manner a soul to actuate and quicken that soul. He animates
it, and moves it in God’s ways, according to the covenant of grace,—“I
will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes.”
There is first quickening, and then walking. You who were dead in sins,
hath he quickened together with Christ, Eph. ii. 1, 5; and then it follows
in due order,—“I will cause you to walk in my statutes,” Ezek. xxxvi. 27.
Christ comes into the heart to dwell, and then he walks in it, 2 Cor. vi.
16. And what is that,—Christ to walk in believers? It is nothing else but
Christ by his Spirit making them to walk in his way. There is so little in
us to principle a spiritual action, even when renewed and quickened, that
we should look on ourselves not so much as workers with him, but as being
acted by him. We should look on soul and body as pieces of organized clay
that cannot move, but as they are moved by him as the soul and life of
them; so that, according to the Scripture dialect, a Christian is nothing
else, but Christ living and walking in such a person. This is it which
Christ, when he is to go out of the world, instructs his disciples into,
John xv. 1. He is the vine, and we the branches. The branch must be first
united to the tree, and implanted into the tree, ere it bring forth fruit.
Without the tree it withers. So must a soul be first ingraft in Jesus
Christ, implanted in him by faith in his death and sufferings, before it
can grow up into the similitude of his resurrection, or “walk in newness
of life,” as Paul speaks, Rom. vi. 4, 5. “Without me ye can do nothing.”
Ye must first be one with him, by believing in him, and receiving him as a
complete Saviour, and then the sap and virtue of the tree flows into the
dead branch, and it shoots forth, and blossoms and bears.
Now, if this doctrine of Christ and his apostles were duly pondered and
believed, O what a change would it make on the lives and spirits of
Christians! Since this is the order established in the gospel, and an
order suitable both to his grace and our necessity, (as all that is in it
speaketh forth an excellent contriver)—when we go about to establish our
souls in another method, how is it possible that we should not weary and
vex our souls in vain? How can we choose but torment ourselves and
intricate ourselves still more? Our method and way is just contrary. We
perplex our souls how to find the fruits of the Spirit of Christ, how to
walk after the Spirit, without first closing entirely with Christ himself.
We trouble ourselves to find the operations of a spiritual life, before we
lay hold on Christ, who is the life of our souls. It is made an argument
by many, to keep them from believing in Christ, because they do not find
that spiritual life stirring in them. How cross is this to the declared
mind of Christ in the gospel! It cannot choose but both darken the spirit
more, and dry up the influences of the Spirit of God, because it keeps
thee from the fountain of all consolation. You may disquiet your souls by
this means, but you shall never make advantage this way. Without him “ye
can do nothing:” and yet ye will not come to him, because ye have done
nothing. It is strange how little reason is in it, if your eyes were
opened. You refuse or delay to abide in the vine till you bring forth
fruit, and fruit ye cannot bring forth till you be in the vine. You would
walk, and you will not have the life from which you must walk. Paul lived
indeed, but what a life! “The life that I live is by the faith of the Son
of God.” Faith in Christ transported him out of himself to Christ, or
received Christ into the soul, and Christ in the soul was the life of his
soul, Gal. ii. 20. Your walking is as if a dead man would essay to go.
Will one expect figs of thorns, or grapes of thistles? I beseech you, know
what wrong ye do to yourselves, and to Christ. Ye wrong yourselves,
because ye stand in the way of your own mercy, ye stand aback from your
life,—him that is “the way, the truth, and the life.” You would walk in
the way, but no man can walk in this way, but by this way. Christ must
quicken you to walk in himself. Ye must get life in him, and not bring it.
You are in a vain expectation of fruits from yourselves,—they will never
see the sun; and when you have wearied yourselves in such a vain pursuit,
you must at length come and begin here. Ye wrong Christ’s grace and mercy.
This order is suited of purpose for our desperate condition, and yet ye
presume to reject it, and seek another. You prescribe to your skilful and
tender Physician, that which would undo you. I beseech you, know the
original of your miseries, doubts, barrenness, and darkness. Here it
is,—you are still puzzling yourselves about grace and duties, how to fill
your eyes with these, and ye neglect Christ as your righteousness, as one
dead and risen again, and now sitting at God’s right hand for us. You must
first close with him, as ungodly men. Though you were godly, you must shut
your eyes on any such thing, and lay living Jesus upon your dead and
benumbed hearts. Answer all your challenges with his absolution, and stand
before God, in his clothing. Put his garment immediately on your nakedness
and vileness, and we may persuade you it shall yield you abundant
consolation and life. Because he lives, ye shall live, and walk. If you
were more frequent and serious in the consideration of his excellent
majesty, of his beautiful and lovely qualifications, as the Mediator for
sinners, and of the precious promises which are all “yea and amen,”
confirmed in him, and less in the vain and unprofitable debates of
self-interest, and such like, I am persuaded ye would be more fruitful
Christians. This is not as the business of a holiday, to be done at your
first coming to Christ, and no more. No, it must run alongst, all your
life. The aged experienced Christian must come along as an ungodly sinner,
to a blessed and living Saviour, and have no other ground of glory or
confidence before God, but Christ Jesus crucified.
Sermon VII.
Verse 2.—“For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath
made me free from the law of sin and death.”
You know there are two principal things in the preceding verse,—the
privilege of a Christian, and the property or character of a Christian. He
is one that never enters into condemnation; He that believeth shall not
perish, John iii. 15. And then he is one that walks not after the flesh,
though he be in the flesh, but in a more elevate way above men, after the
guiding and leading of the Holy Spirit of God. Now it may be objected in
many consciences,—how can these things be? Have not all sinned, and come
short of the glory of God, and so the whole world is become guilty before
God? Is not every man lying under a sentence of death? “Cursed is he that
abides not in all things,” &c. How then can he escape condemnation? Again,
you speak of walking after the Spirit, as proper to the Christian; but
whose walk is not carnal? Who is he that doth not often step aside out of
the way, and follow the conduct and counsel of flesh and blood? Is not sin
dwelling here in our mortal bodies? Who can say, my heart or way is clean?
Therefore both that privilege and this property of a Christian, seem to be
but big words, no real thing. And indeed I confess the multitude of men
hath no other opinion of them but as fancied imaginary things; few believe
the report of the gospel concerning the salvation of elect ones, and few
understand what this spiritual walking is. Many conceive it is not a thing
that belongs to men, who are led about with passions and affections, but
rather to angels or spirits perfected.
However, we have in these words an answer to satisfy both objections. He
grants something implicitly, and it is this: It is true indeed, Christians
are under a twofold law, captives and bondmen to these,—a law of sin in
their members, bringing them in subjection to the lusts of the flesh. Sin
hath a powerful dominion and tyranny over every man by nature. It hath a
sort of light and power over him. And likewise, every one was under a law
of death, the law of God cursing him, and sentencing him to condemnation
because of sin. These two were joint conquerors of all mankind. But, saith
he, there is a delivery from this bondage. Freedom is obtained to
believers by Jesus Christ, and so “there is no condemnation to them which
are in Christ,” and so they walk not after the leading and direction of
that law of sin within them, but after the guiding of our blessed
Tutor,—the Spirit of God. If you ask how this comes to pass,—by what
authority, or law, or power, is this releasement and freedom obtained?
Here it is,—“by the law of the Spirit of life, which is in Christ.” Christ
is not an invader, or unjust conqueror, he hath fair law for what he doth,
even against those laws which detain unbelievers in bondage. There is a
higher and later law on his side, and he hath power and strength to
accomplish his design. He opposes law unto law, and life unto death, and
spirit unto flesh; a law of spirit unto a law of sin and flesh; a law of
life unto a law of death;—in a word, the gospel, or covenant of grace,
unto the law or covenant of works. The powerful and living Spirit of grace
that wrought mightily in him, is set fore-against the power of sin and
Satan in us, and against us. The one gives him right and title to conquer,
the other accomplisheth him for the work; and by these two are believers
in Jesus Christ made freemen, who were bondmen. That, then, which we would
speak from these words, is the common lot of all men by nature, viz. to be
under the power of sin, and sentence of death; the special exemption of
believers in Christ, and immunity from this, or delivery from it; and then
the true ground and cause of this delivery from that bondage;—which three
are contained in the words, it is a purpose indeed of a high nature, and
of high concernment to us all. Our life and death is wrapt up in this. You
may hear many things more gladly, but if you knew it, none so profitable.
Therefore let us gather our spirits to the consideration of these
particulars.
As to the first, all men are under the bondage of a twofold law,—the law
of sin within them, and the law of death without them. Man was created
righteous; but, saith the wise man, he “sought out many inventions.” A sad
invention indeed! He found out misery and slavery to himself, who was made
free and happy. His freedom and happiness was to be in subjection to his
Maker, under the just and holy commands of his Lord, who had given him
breath and being. It was no captivity or restraint to be compassed about
with the hedges of the Lord’s holy law, no more than it is a restraint on
a man’s liberty to have his way hedged in, where he may safely walk, that
he may keep himself within it, from pits and snares on every hand. But,
alas!—if we may say alas, when we have such a redemption in Jesus
Christ,—Adam was not content with that happiness, but seeking after more
liberty, he sold himself into the hands of strange lords,—first sin, and
then death. “Other lords besides thee, O Lord, have had dominion over us,”
Isa. xxvi. 13. This is too true in this sense; Adam seeking to be as the
Lord himself, lost his own lordship and dominion over all the works of
God’s hands, and became a servant to the basest and most abominable of
all, even that which is most hateful to the Lord,—to sin and death. And
this is the condition we are now born into. Consider it, I pray you,—we
are born captives and slaves, the most noble, the most ingenuous, and the
most free of us all. Paul speaks of it as a privilege to be born free; to
be free in man’s commonwealth. It is counted a dignity to be a free
citizen or burgess of a town. Liberty is the great claim of people
now-a-days; and indeed it is the great advantage of a people to enjoy that
mother and womb privilege and right. But, alas! What is all this to be
free-born in a civil society? It is but the state of a man among men. It
reaches no further than the outward man, his life or estate. But here is a
matter of greater moment,—know you what state your souls are in? Your
souls are incomparably more worth than your bodies, as much as eternity
surpasseth this inch of time, or immortality exceeds mortality. Your souls
are yourselves, indeed; your bodies are but your house or tabernacle you
lodge into for a season. Now then, I beseech you, ask whether you be born
free or not. If your souls be slaves, you are slaves indeed; for so the
evangelist changeth these. Matthew saith, in chap. xvi. 26, “what hath a
man gained, if he lose his own soul?” And Luke, chap. ix. 25, saith, what
hath he gained, if he “lose himself?” Therefore you are not free indeed
except your souls be free. What is it, I pray you, to enjoy freedom among
men? I ask you, what are you before God, whether bond or free? This is the
business indeed. The Pharisees pleaded a claim to the liberty and
privilege of being Abraham’s sons and children, and thought they might
hence conclude they were God’s children. But our Lord Jesus discovers this
mistake, when he tells them of a freedom and liberty that he came to
proclaim to men, to purchase to them, and bestow on them. They stumbled at
this doctrine. What, say they, talkest thou to us of making us free? We
were never in bondage, because we be Abraham’s children. This is even the
language of our hearts, when we tell you, that ye are born heirs of wrath,
and slaves of sin and Satan. Here is the secret whispering of hearts;—we
be Abraham’s seed; we were never in bondage to any. We be baptized
Christians; we have a church state,—have the privileges, and liberties,
not only of subjects in the state, but of members in the church; why
sayest thou, we are bondmen? I would wish ye were all free indeed, but
that cannot be till you know your bondage. Consider then, I beseech you,
that you may be free subjects in a state, and free members in a church,
and yet in bondage, under the law of sin and death. This was the mistake;
that was a ground of presumption in the Jews, and occasioned their
stumbling at this stone of salvation laid in Sion. You think you have
church privileges, and what needs more? Be not deceived,—you are servants
of sin, and therefore not free. There are two sorts or rather two ranks of
persons in God’s house,—sons and slaves. The son abides in the house for
ever, the slave but for a time. When the time expires, he must go out, or
be cast out. The church is God’s house, but many are in it that will not
dwell in it. Many have the outward liberties of this house, that have no
interest in the special mercies and loving kindness proper to children.
The time will come, that the most part of the visible church, who are
baptized, and have eaten with him at his table, and had a kind of
friendship to him here, shall be cast out as bondmen, and Isaac only shall
be kept within, the child of the promise. The house that is here hath some
inward sanctuary, and some outer porches. Many have access to these, that
never enter within the secret of the Lord, and so shall not dwell in the
house above. It is not so much the business, who shall enter into the holy
hill, but who shall stand and dwell in it. The day of judgment will be a
great day of excommunication. O how many thousands will be then cut off
from the church of the living God, and delivered over to Satan, because
they were really under his power, while they were church-members and
Abraham’s sons! Let me tell you then, that all of us were once in this
state of bondage which Christ speaks of,—he that “committeth sin is the
servant of sin,” John viii. 34; “and the servant abideth not in the house
for ever.” So that I am afraid, many of us who are in the visible church,
and stand in this congregation, shall not have liberty to stand in the
assembly of the first-born, when all the sons are gathered in one to the
new Jerusalem. Sin hath a right over us, and it hath a power over us, and
therefore it is called a law of sin. There is a kind of authority that it
hath over us, by virtue of God’s justice, and our own voluntary consent.
The Lord in his righteousness hath given over all the posterity of Adam,
for his sin, which he sinned, as a common person, representing us,—he hath
given us all over to the power of a body of death within us. Since man did
choose to depart from his Lord, he hath justly delivered him into the
hands of a strange lord to have dominion over him. The transmitting of
such an original pollution, to all men, is an act of glorious justice. As
he in justice gives men over to the lusts of their own hearts now, for
following of these lusts contrary to his will; so was it, at first, “by
one man’s disobedience many were made sinners,” and that, in God’s holy
righteousness, sin entered into the world, and had permission of God to
subdue and conquer the world to itself, because man would not be subject
to God. But as there is the justice of God in it, so there is a voluntary
choice and election, which gives sin a power over us. We choose a strange
lord, and he lords it over us. We say to our lusts, come ye and rule over
us. We submit our reason, our conscience, and all, to the guidance and
leading of our blind affections and passions. We choose our bondage for
liberty. And thus sin hath a kind of law over us, by our own consent. It
exerciseth a jurisdiction; and when once it is installed in power and
clothed with it, it is not so easy again to put it out of that throne.
There is a conspiring, so to speak, of these two, to make out the
jurisdiction and authority of sin over us. God gives us over to iniquity
and unrighteousness, and we yield ourselves over to it. Rom. vi. 16, 19,
We yield our members servants to iniquity. A little pleasure or commodity
is the bait that ensnares us to this. We give up ourselves, and join to
our idols, and God ratifies it, in a manner, and passeth such a
sentence,—Let them alone, he says, go ye every one and serve your idols,
Hos. iv. 17. Since ye would not serve me, be doing,—go serve your lusts,
look if they be better masters than I; look what wages they will give you.
Now, let us again consider what power sin hath, being thus clothed with a
sort of authority. O but it is mighty, and works mightily in men! It
reigns in our mortal bodies, Rom. vi. 12. Here is the throne of sin
established in the lusts and affections of the body, and from hence it
emits laws and statutes, and sends out commands to the soul and whole man.
Man chose at first to hearken to the counsel of his senses, that said, it
was pleasant and good to eat of the forbidden fruit; but that counsel is
now turned into a command. Sin hath gotten a sceptre there, to rule over
the spirit which was born a free prince. Sin hath conquered all our
strength, or we have given up unto it all our strength. Any truth that is
in the conscience; any knowledge of God, or religion, all this is
incarcerated, detained in a prison of unrighteous affections. Sin hath
many strongholds and bulwarks in our flesh, and by these commands the
whole spirit and soul in man, and leads captive every thought to the
obedience of the flesh. You know how strong it was in holy Paul, Rom.
vii.; what a mighty battle and wrestling he had, and how near he was to
fainting and giving over. How then must it have an absolute and sovereign
full dominion over men in nature! There being no contrary principle
within, by nature, to debate with it, it rules without much controlment.
There may be many convictions of conscience, and sparkles of light against
sin, but these are quickly extinguished and buried. Nay, all these
principles of light and knowledge in the conscience, do oftentimes
strengthen sin, as some things are confirmed, not weakened, by opposition.
Unequal and faint opposition strengthens the adversary, as cold,
compassing springs, makes them hotter. So it is here. Sin takes occasion,
by the command, to work “all manner of concupiscence,” Rom. vii. 8.
Without the law, sin is in a manner dead; but when any adversary appears,
when our lusts and humours are crossed, then they unite their strength
against any such opposition, and bring forth more sinful sin. The
knowledge and conscience that many have, serve nothing but to make their
sins greater; to exasperate and imbitter their spirits and lusts against
God. “Why tormentest thou me before the time?” It is a devilish
disposition that is in us all,—We cannot endure the light, because our
deeds are evil.
Let us but consider these particulars, and we shall know the power and
dominion of sin. 1st, Consider the extent of its dominion, both in regard
of all men, and all in every man. I say, all men,—there is none of us
exempted from it; the most noble, and the most base. Sin is the catholic
king, the universal king, or rather Satan, who is the prince of this
world, and he rules the world, by this law of sin, which is even the
contradiction of the law of God. Who of you believes this, that Satan’s
kingdom is so spacious,—that it is even over the most part of the visible
church? This is the emperor of the world. The Turk vainly arrogates this
title to himself, but the devil is truly so, and we have God’s own
testimony for it. All kings, all nobles, all princes, all people, rich and
poor, high and low, are once subjects of this prince, ruled by this black
law of sin. O know your condition, whose servants ye are! Think not within
yourselves, “we have Abraham for our father,”—we are baptized Christians.
No, know that all of us are once the children of Satan, and do his works,
and fulfil his will. But moreover, all that is in us is subject to this
law of sin,—all the faculties of the soul. The understanding is under the
power of darkness, the affections under the power of corruption, the mind
is blinded, and the heart is hardened, the soul alienated from God, who is
its life; all the members and powers of a man yielded up as instruments of
unrighteousness, every one to execute that wicked law, and fulfil the
lusts of the flesh. This dominion is over all a man’s actions, even those
that are in best account and esteem among men. Your honest, upright
dealing with men, your most religious performances to God, they are more
conformed to the law of sin, than to the law of God,—Hag. ii. 14. “This
nation, and the work of their hands, and that which they offer, is
unclean.” All your works, your good works, are infected with this
pollution. Sin hath defiled your persons, and they defile all your
actions,—the infection is mutual. These actions again defile your persons
still more: To the impure all things are impure, “even their mind and
conscience is defiled,” Tit. i. 15. Do what ye can, ye who are in nature
cannot please God; it is but obedience to the law of sin that is in you.
But 2d, Consider the intenseness and force of his power, how mighty it is
in working against all oppositions whatsoever, unless it be overcome by
almighty power. Nothing but All-might can conquer this power. The spirit
that works in men by nature, is of such activity and efficacy, that it
drives men on furiously, as if they were possessed to their own ruin. How
much hath it of a man’s consent! And so it drives him strongly and
irresistibly. Much will, desire, and greediness, will make corruption run
like a river, over all its banks set in the way thereof,—counsel,
persuasion, law, heaven, hell, yet men’s corruption must be over all
these. Preaching, threatenings, convictions of conscience, are but as
flaxen ropes to bind a Samson. Sin within easily breaks them. In a word,
no created power is of sufficient virtue to bind the strong man; it must
be one mightier than he, and that is the Spirit of Jesus Christ. Do ye not
see men daily drawn after their lusts, as beasts, following their senses
as violently as a horse rusheth to the battle! If there be any gain or
advantage to oil the wheels of affection, O how men run headlong! There is
no crying will hold them. In sum, sin is become all one with us; it is
incorporate into the man, and become one with his affections, and then
these command.
Sermon VIII.
Verse 2.—“For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath
made me free from the law of sin and death.”
That whereabout the thoughts and discourses of men now run, is freedom and
liberty, or bondage and slavery. All men are afraid to lose their
liberties, and be made servants to strangers. And indeed liberty, whether
national or personal, even in civil respects, is a great mercy and
privilege. But alas! men know not, neither do they consider, what is the
ground and reason of such changes, and from what fountain it flows, that a
nation for a long time free from a foreign yoke, should now be made to
submit their necks unto it. Many wonder that our nation, unconquered in
the days of ignorance and darkness, should now be conquered in the days of
the gospel; and there want not many ungodly spirits, that will rather
impute the fault unto the reformation of religion, than take it to
themselves. There are many secret heart jealousies among us, that Christ
is a hard master, and cannot be served. But would you know the true
original of our apparent and threatened bondage? Come and see; come and
consider something expressed in these words. All your thoughts are busied
about civil liberty; but you do not consider that you are in bondage while
you are free, and that to worse masters than you fear. We are under a law
of sin and death, that hath the dominion and sway in all men’s affections
and conversations; and when the glorious liberty of the sons of God is
offered unto us in the gospel, when the Son hath come to make us free, we
love our own chains, and will not suffer them to be loosed. Therefore it
is that a nation that hath despised such a gracious offer of peace and
freedom in Jesus Christ, is robbed and spoiled of peace and freedom. When
this law of the Spirit of life in Christ is published, and proclaimed
openly unto congregations, unto judicatories, and unto persons, yet few do
regard it. The generality are in bondage to a contrary law of sin, and
this they serve in the lusts thereof. Yea,—which most of all aggravates
and heightens the offence,—even after we have all of us professed a
subjection to the law of God, and to Jesus Christ, the King and Lawgiver,
we are in an extraordinary way engaged to the Lord, by many oaths and
covenants, to be his people; we did consent that he should be our King,
and that we should be ruled in our profession and practice by his word and
will, as the fundamental laws of this his kingdom; we did solemnly
renounce all strange lords, that had tyrannized over us; and did swear
against them, never to yield willing obedience unto them; namely, the
lusts of the world, ignorance of God, unbelief, and disobedience. Now what
became of all this work, you may know. The generality of all ranks have
rebelled against that Lord and Prince, and withdrawn from his allegiance,
and revolted unto the same lusts and ways—these same courses against which
we had, both by our profession of Christianity and solemn oaths, engaged
ourselves. And so men have voluntarily and heartily subjected themselves
unto the laws of sin, and desires of the flesh. Hence is the beginning of
our ruin. Because we would not serve our own God and Lord in our own land,
therefore are so many led away captive(169) to serve strangers in another
land, therefore we are like to be captives in our own land. Because we
refused homage to our God, and obeyed strange lords within, therefore are
we given up to the lust of strangers without.
I would have you thinking, and that seriously, that there are worse
masters you serve than those you most hate, and that there is a worse
bondage, whereof you are insensible, than that you fear most. You fear
strangers, but your greatest evil is within you. You might retire within,
and behold worse masters, and more pernicious and mortal enemies to your
well-being. This is the case of all men by nature, and of all men as far
as in nature; sin ruling, commanding in them, and lording it over them,
and they willingly following after the commandment, and so oppressed and
broken in judgment. If you could but rightly look upon other men, you
might see, that they who are servants of divers lusts, are not their own
men, so to speak; they have not the command of themselves. Look upon a man
given to drunkenness, and what a slave is he! Whither doth not his lust
drive him? Let him bind himself with resolutions, with vows, yet he cannot
be holden by them. Shame before men, loss of estate, decay of health,
temporal punishment, nay, eternal, all set together, cannot keep him from
fulfilling the desires of that lust, when he hath opportunity. A man given
to covetousness, how doth he serve that idol! How doth he forget himself
to be a man!—or to have a reasonable soul within him, he is so devoted to
it! And thus it is with every man by nature. There may be many petty
little gods that he worships upon occasion, but every unrenewed man hath
some one thing predominant in him, unto which he hath sworn obedience and
devotion. The man most civilized, most abstracted from the grosser outward
pollutions,—yet certainly, his heart within is but a temple full of idols,
to the love and service of which he is devoted. There are some of the
fundamental laws of Satan’s kingdom, that rule in every natural
man,—either the lust of the eyes, or the lust of the flesh, or the pride
of life. Every man sacrificeth to one of these his credit and honour, or
his pleasure, or his profit. Self, whatever way refined and subtilized in
some, yet at best it is but an enemy to God; and without that sphere of
self cannot a man act upon natural principles, till a higher Spirit come
in, which is here spoken of.
Oh! that you would take this for bondage, to be under this woful necessity
of satisfying and fulfilling the desires of your flesh and mind, Eph. ii.
2. Many account it only liberty and freedom, therefore they look upon the
laws of the Spirit of life as cords and bonds, and consult to cast them
off, and cut them asunder. But consider what a wretched life you have with
your imperious lusts. The truth is, sin is for the most part its own
punishment. I am sure you have more labour and toil in fulfilling the
lusts of sin, than you might have in serving God. Men’s lusts are never at
quiet, they are continually putting you on service, they are still driving
and dragging men headlong, hurrying them to and fro, and they cannot get
rest. What is the cause of all the disquiet, disorder, confusion, trouble,
and wars in the world? From whence do contentions arise? “Come they not
hence,” saith James, iv. 1, “even of your lusts that war in your members?”
It is these that trouble the world, and these are the troublers of
Israel’s peace. These take away inward peace, domestic peace, and national
peace. These lusts, covetousness, ambition, pride, passion, self-love, and
such like, do set nation against nation, men and men, people and people,
by the ears. These multiply businesses beyond necessity; these multiply
cares without profit, and so bring forth vexation and torment. If a man
had his lusts subdued, and his affections composed unto moderation and
sobriety, O what a multitude of noisome and hurtful cares should he then
be freed from! What a sweet calmness should possess that spirit! Will you
be persuaded of it, beloved in the Lord, that it were easier to serve the
Lord than to serve your lusts,—that they cost you more labour, disquiet,
perplexity, and sorrow, than the Lord’s service will; that so you may
weary of such masters, and groan to be from under such a law of sin.
But if that will not suffice to persuade you, then consider, in the next
room, if you will needs serve a law of sin, you must needs be subject to a
law of death. If you will not be persuaded to quit the service of sin,
then tell me, what think you of your wages? “The wages of sin is
death,”—that you may certainly expect; and can you look and long for such
wages? God hath joined these together by a perpetual ordinance. They came
into the world together,—“sin entered, and death by sin;” and they have
gone hand in hand together since. And think you to dissolve what God hath
joined? Before you go farther, and obey sin more, think, I pray you, what
it can give you,—what doth it give you for the present, but much pain, and
toil, and vexation, instead of promised pleasure and satisfaction? Sin
doth with all men, as the devil doth with some of his sworn vassals and
servants. They have a poor wretched life with him. They are wearied and
troubled, to satisfy all his unreasonable and imperious commands. He loads
them with base service, and they are still kept in expectation of some
great reward; but for the present, they have nothing but misery and
trouble. And at length he becomes the executioner, and perpetual tormentor
of them whom he made to serve him. Such a master is sin, and such wages
you may expect. Consider then, what your expectation is, before you go on,
or engage further,—death. We are under a law of bodily death, therefore we
are mortal. Our house is like a ruinous lodge, that drops through, and one
day or other it must fall. Sin hath brought in the seeds of corruption
into men’s nature, which dissolve it, else it had been immortal. But there
is a worse death after this, a living death, in respect of which simple
death would be chosen rather. Men will rather live very miserably than
die. Nature hath an aversion to it,—“skin for skin, and all for life will
a man give.” Death imports a destruction of being, which every thing
naturally seeks to preserve. But O what a dreadful life is it, worse than
death, when men will choose death rather than life! O how terrible will it
be to hear that word, “Hills and mountains, fall on us, and cover us!” Men
newly risen, their bodies and souls meet again after a long separation,
and this to be their mutual entertainment one to another,—the body to wish
it were still in the dust, and the soul to desire it might never be in the
body! Surely if we had so much grace as to believe this, and tremble at
it, before we be forced to act it, there were some hope. If we could
persuade ourselves once of this, that the ways of sin, all of them, how
pleasant, how profitable soever, whatsoever gain they bring in, whatsoever
satisfaction they give, that they are nothing else but “the ways of
death,” and go down to the chambers of hell; that they will delude and
deceive us, and so in end destroy us;—if we might once believe this with
our heart, there were some hope that we would break off from them, and
choose the untrodden paths of godliness, which are pleasantness and peace.
However, this is the condition of all men, once to be under sin, and under
a sentence of death for sin. It is the unbelief of this, and a conceit of
freedom, that securely and certainly destroys the world, by keeping souls
from Jesus Christ, the Prince of Life.
But there is a delivery, and that is the thing expressed in the words.
There is freedom from both attainable. And I think, the very hearing of
such a thing, that there is a redemption from sin and misery possible,
yea, and that some are actually delivered from it; this might stir up in
our hearts some holy ambition, and earnest desire after such a state. How
might it awaken our hearts after it! But this is the wofulness of a
natural condition, that a soul under the power of sin can neither help
itself nor rightly desire help from another, because the will is captive
too. This makes it a very desperate and remediless business to any human
expectation, because such a soul is well-pleased with its own fetters, and
loves its own prison, and so can neither long for freedom, nor welcome the
Son who is come to make free. But yet, there is a freedom and delivery;
and if ye ask who are partakers of it, the text declares it to you,—even
those who are in Jesus Christ, and walk according to the Spirit of Christ.
All those, and those only, who, finding themselves “dead in trespasses and
sins,” under the power and dominion of sin, and likewise under the
sentence of death and condemnation, begin to lift up their heads upon the
hope of a Saviour, and to look unto their Redeemer as poor prisoners,
whose eyes and looks are strong entreaties, and instead of many
requests;—such as give an entire renounce unto their former ways and
prevailing lusts, and give up themselves, in testimony of their sense of
his unspeakable favour of redemption, to be wholly his, and not their own.
There are some souls who are free from the dominion of sin, and from the
danger of death, some who were once led about with divers lusts, as well
as others, who walked after the course of this world, and fulfilled the
desires of the flesh, and were children of wrath, as well as others; but
now they are quickened in Christ Jesus, and have abandoned their former
way. They have another rule, another way, other principles. Their study is
now to please God, and grow in holiness. The ways they delighted in, in
former times, are now loathsome. They think that a filthy puddle, which
they drank greedily of; and now it is all, or their chiefest grief and
burden, that so much of that old man must be carried about with them,—and
so this expresseth many groans from them with Paul, “Woe is me, miserable
man! who shall deliver me?” Such souls are, in a manner, so to speak, half
redeemed, who being made sensible of their bondage, groan and pant for a
Redeemer. The day of their complete redemption is at hand. All of you are
witnesses of this, that there are some thus freed, but they are signs and
wonders indeed to the world. Their kinsmen, their acquaintance, their
friends and neighbours, wonder what is become of them. They think it
strange they walk not, and run not into that same excess of riot with
them. But whosoever thou art, that art escaped from under the slavery of
sin, wonder at the world, that doth run so madly on their own destruction.
Think it strange, that thou didst run so long with them, and that all will
not run in these pleasant ways with thee. Think it strange that thou
runnest so slowly, when so great a prize is to be obtained,—an immortal
and never-fading crown. If mortifying and crucifying the lusts of the
flesh, if dying to the world, and to thyself, seem very hard and
unpleasant to thee, if it be as the plucking out of thine eye, and cutting
off thine hand; know then, that corruption is much alive yet, and hath
much power in thee. But remember, that if thou canst have but so much
grace and resolution, as to kill and crucify these lusts, without foolish
and hurtful pity,—if thou canst attain that victory over thyself, thou
shalt never be a loser. Thou canst not repent it afterward. To die to
ourselves and the world, to kill sin within—O that makes way to a life hid
from the world, one hour whereof is better than many ages in sinful
pleasure! Quicken thyself often with this thought, that there is a true
life after such a death, and that thou canst not pass into it, but by the
valley of the death of thy lusts. Remember, that thou dost but kill thine
enemies, which embrace that they may strangle thee; and then stir up
yourself with this consideration,—the life of sin will be thy death.
Better enter heaven without these lusts, than go to hell with them.
Sermon IX.
Verse 2.—“For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath
made me free from the law of sin and death.”
That which makes the delivery of men from the tyranny of sin and death
most difficult, and utterly impossible unto nature, is, that sinners have
given up themselves unto it, as if it were true liberty, that the will and
affections of men are conquered, and sin hath its imperial throne seated
there. Other conquerors invade men against their will, and so they rule
against their will. They retain men in subjection by fear and not by love.
And so whenever any occasion offers, they are glad to cast off the yoke of
unwilling obedience. But sin hath first conquered men’s judgment, by
blinding it,—putting out the eye of the understanding, and then invaded
the affections of men, drawn them over to its side; and by these, it keeps
all in a most willing obedience. Now, what hopes are there then of
delivery, when the prisoner accounts his bondage liberty, and his prison a
palace? What expectation of freedom, when all that is within us conspires
to the upholding that tyrannous dominion of sin, against all that would
cast off its usurpation, as if they were mortal enemies?
Yet there is a delivery possible, but such as would not have entered into
the heart of man to imagine; and it is here expressed,—“the law of the
Spirit of life,” &c. This declares how, and by what means, we may be made
free. Not indeed by any power within us, not by any created power without
us. Sin is stronger than all these, because its imperial seat is within,
far without the reach of all created power. There may be some means used
by men, to beat it out of the outworks of the outward man, to chase it out
of the external members; some means to restrain it from such gross
out-breakings; but there is none can lay siege to the soul within, or
storm the understanding and will, where it hath its principal residence.
It is inaccessible, and impregnable by any human power. No entreaties or
persuasions, no terrors or threatenings, can prevail; it can neither be
stormed by violence, nor undermined by skill, because it is within the
spirit of the mind; until at length some other spirit stronger than our
spirit come; till the Spirit of life which is in Christ, come and bind the
strong man, and so make the poor soul free. You heard that we were under a
law of death, and under the power of sin. Now there is another law,
answering this law, and a power to overcome this power. You may indeed
ask, by what law or authority can a sinner that is bound over, by God’s
justice, unto death and condemnation, be released? Is there any law above
God’s law, and the sentence of his justice? The apostle answers, that
there is a law above it, a law after it,—“the law of the Spirit of life.”
Jesus Christ opposes law unto law, the law of life unto the law of death;
the gospel unto the law, the second covenant unto the first. Thus it is
then, Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, full of grace and truth, did
come in man’s stead, when the law and sentence of death was passed upon
all mankind, and there was no expectation, from the terms of the first
covenant, that there should be any dispensation or mitigation of the
rigour of it. He obtains this, that so many as God had chosen unto life,
their sins and their punishment might be laid on him. And so he took part
of our flesh, for this end, that he might be made a curse for us, and so
redeem us from the curse. Thus, having satisfied justice, and fulfilled
the sentence of death, by suffering death,—“Him hath God exalted to be a
Prince and a Saviour,” and the head of all things. In compensation of this
great and weighty work given him by his Father, all judgment is committed
to him, and so he sends out and proclaims another law in Zion; another
sentence, even of life and absolution, unto all, and upon all them that
shall believe in his name. Thus you see the law of death abrogated by a
new law of life, because our Lord and Saviour was made under the law of
death, and suffered under it, and satisfied it, that all his seed might be
freed from it, and might come under a life-giving law. So that it appears
to be true, that was said at first, “there is no condemnation to them that
are in Christ,”—there is no law, no justice against them.
But then another difficulty as great as the former is in the way. Though
such a law and sentence of life and absolution be pronounced in the
gospel, in Christ’s name, yet we are dead in sins and trespasses. We
neither know nor feel our misery, nor can we come to a Redeemer. As there
was a law of death above our head, so there is a law of sin within our
hearts, which rules and commands us; and there is neither will nor ability
to escape from under it. It is true, life and freedom is preached in
Christ, to all that come to him for life. To all that renounce sin’s
dominion is remission of sin preached. But here is the greatest
difficulty,—how can a dead soul stir, rise, and walk,—how can a slave to
sin, and a willing captive, renounce it, when he hath neither to will nor
to do? Indeed, if all had been purchased for us, if eternal life and
forgiveness of sins had been brought near us, and all the business done to
our consent, and that only wanting; if these had been the terms, I have
purchased life, now rise and embrace it of yourselves, truly it had been
an unsuccessful business. Christ had lost all that was given him, if the
moment and weight of our salvation had been hung upon our acceptation.
Therefore, it is well provided for this also, that there should be a power
to overcome this power, a spirit of life in Christ to quicken dead
sinners, and raise them up, and draw them to him. And so, the second Adam
hath this prerogative beyond the first, that he is not only a living soul
in himself, but a quickening Spirit to all that are given him of the
Father, 1 Cor. xv. 45. So then, as Christ Jesus hath law and right on his
side, to free us from death, so he hath virtue and power in him to
accomplish our delivery from sin. As he hath fair law to loose the chains
of condemnation, and to repeal the sentence passed against us, without
prejudice to God’s justice, he having fully satisfied the same in our
name, so he hath sufficient power given him to loose the fetters of sin
from off us. When he hath paid the price, and satisfied the Father, so
that justice can crave nothing, yet he hath one adversary to deal with.
Satan hath sinners bound with the cords of their own lusts, in a prison of
darkness and unbelief. Jesus Christ therefore comes out to conquer this
enemy, and to redeem his elect ones from that unjust usurpation of sin,—to
bring them out of the prison by the strong hand. And therefore, he is one
mighty and able to save to the uttermost; he hath might to do it, as well
as right to it.
Consider, then, my beloved, these two things, which are the breasts of our
consolation, and the foundation of our hope. We are once lost and utterly
undone, both in regard of God’s justice, and our own utter inability to
help ourselves, which is strengthened by our unwillingness, and thus made
a more desperate business. Now, God hath provided a suitable remedy; he
hath “laid help on one that is mighty,” indeed, who hath almighty power;
and by his power he first conflicted with the punishment of our sins, and
with his Father’s wrath, and hath overcome, discharged, and satisfied
that, and so hath purchased a right unto us, to give salvation to whom he
will. He conquered, and by his power obtained this supreme authority of
life and death.
Now, having this authority established in his person, the next work is to
apply this purchase,—actually to confer this life. And therefore he hath
almighty power to raise up dead sinners; to create us again to good works;
to redeem us from the tyranny of sin and Satan, whose slaves we are. He
hath a Spirit of life, which he communicates to his seed; he breathes it
into those souls that he died for, and dispossesseth that powerful
corruption that dwells in us. Hence it comes to pass, that they walk after
the Spirit, though they be in the flesh; because the powerful Spirit of
Christ hath entered, and taken possession of their spirits, Isa. lix. 20,
21.
Let us not be discouraged in our apprehensions of Christ. When we look on
our ruinous and desperate estate, let us not conclude, it is past hope,
and past his help too. We do proclaim, in the name of Jesus Christ, that
there is no sinner, howsoever justly under a sentence of death and
damnation, but they may in him find a relaxation from that sentence, and
that without the impairing of God’s justice. And this is a marvellous
ground of comfort, that may establish our souls, (1 John i. 9.) even this,
that law and justice is upon Christ’s side, and nothing to accuse or plead
against a sinner that employs him for his advocate. But know this also,
that you are not delivered from death that you may live under sin; nay,
you are redeemed from death, that you may be freed from the law of sin.
But that must be done by his almighty Spirit, and cannot be otherwise
done.
I know not whether of these is matter of greatest comfort,—that there is
in Christ a redemption from the wrath of God and from hell; and that there
is a redemption too, from sin, and corruption which dwells within us. But
sure I am, both of them will be most sweet and comfortable to a believer;
and without both, Christ were not a complete Redeemer, nor we completely
redeemed. Neither would a believing soul, in which there is any measure of
this new law and divine life, be satisfied without both these. Many are
miserably deluded in their apprehensions of the gospel. They take it up
thus, as if it were nothing but a proclamation of freedom from misery,
from death and damnation; and so the most part catch at nothing else in
it, and from thence take liberty to walk after their former lusts and
courses. This is the woful practical use that the generality of hearers
make of the free intimation of pardon, and forgiveness of sin, and
delivery from wrath. They admit some general notion of that, and stop
there, and examine not what further is in the gospel; and so you will see
the slaves of sin professing a kind of hope of freedom from death,—the
servants and vassals of corruption, who walk after the course of this
world, and fulfil the lusts and desires of their mind and flesh, yet
fancying a freedom and immunity from condemnation,—men living in sin, yet
thinking of escaping wrath,—which dreams could not be entertained in men,
if they did drink in all the truth, and open both their ears to the
gospel; if our spirits were not narrow and limited, and so excluded the
one half of the gospel, that is, our redemption from sin. There is too
much of this, even among the children of God,—a strange narrowness of
spirit, which admits not whole and entire truth. It falls out often, that
when we think of delivery from death and wrath, we forget in the mean time
the end and purpose of that, which is, that we may be freed from sin, and
serve the living God without fear. And if at any time we consider, and
busy our thoughts about freedom from the law of sin, and victory over
corruption, such is the scantiness of room and capacity in our spirits,
that we lose the remembrance of delivery from death and condemnation in
Christ Jesus. Thus we are tossed between two extremes,—the quicksands of
presumption and wantonness, and the rocks of unbelief and despair or
discouragement, both of which do kill the Christian’s life, and make all
to fade and wither. But this were the way, and only way, to preserve the
soul in good ease,—even to keep these two continually in our sight, that
we are redeemed from death and misery in Christ, and that not to serve
ourselves, or to continue in our sins, but that we may be redeemed from
that sin that dwells in us, and that both these are purchased by Jesus
Christ, and done by his power,—the one in his own person, the other by his
Spirit within us. I would have you correcting your misapprehensions of the
gospel. Do not so much look on victory and freedom from sin as a duty and
task, though we be infinitely bound to it; but rather as a privilege and
dignity conferred upon us by Christ. Look not upon it, I say, only as your
duty, as many do; and by this means are discouraged from the sight of
their own infirmity and weakness, as being too weak for such a strong
party; but look upon it as the one half, and the greater half, of the
benefit conferred by Christ’s death,—as the greater half of the redemption
which the Redeemer, by his office, is bound to accomplish. He will redeem
Israel from all his iniquities; “with him is plenteous redemption,” Psal.
cxxx. 7, 8. This is the plenty, this is the sufficiency of it,—that he
redeems not only from misery, but from iniquity, and that all iniquities.
I would not desire a believer’s soul to be in a better posture here
away,(170) than this,—to be looking upon sin indwelling as his bondage,
and redemption from it as freedom; to account himself in so far free, as
the free Spirit of Christ enters and writes that free law of love and
obedience in his heart, and blots out these base characters of the law of
sin. It were a good temper to be groaning for the redemption of the soul,
and why doth a believer groan for the redemption of the body, but because
he shall then be freed wholly from the law of sin, and from the presence
of sin? I know not a greater argument to a gracious heart, to subdue his
corruption, and strive for freedom from the law of sin, than the freedom
obtained from the law of death. Nor is there any clearer argument and
evidence of a soul delivered from death than to strive for the freedom of
the spirit from the law of sin. These jointly help one another. Freedom
from death will raise up a Christian’s heart to aspire to a freedom and
liberty from sin, and again, freedom from sin will witness and evidence
that such an one is delivered from death. When freedom from death is an
inducement to seek after freedom from sin, and freedom from sin a
declaration of freedom from death, then all is well, and indeed thus it
will be in some measure with every soul that is quickened by this new law
of the Spirit of life, for it is the entry of this that expels its
contrary, the law of sin. And indeed the law must enter, the command and
the promise must enter into the soul, and the affections of the soul be
enlivened thereby, or rather the soul changed into the similitude of that
mould or else the having of it in a book, or in one’s memory and
understanding, will never make him the richer or freer. A Christian looks
to the pattern of the law, and the word of the gospel without, but he must
be changed into the image of it, by beholding it, and so he becomes a
living law to himself. The Spirit writes these precepts and practices of
Christ’s, in which he commands imitation, upon the fleshly tables of the
heart. And now the law is not a rod above his head, as above a slave, but
it is turned into a law of love within his heart and hath something like a
natural instinct in it. All that men can do, either to themselves or
others, will not purchase the least measure of freedom from predominant
corruptions, cannot deliver you from your sins, till this free Spirit that
blows where he pleases, come. It is our part to hoise up sails, and wait
for the wind, to use means, and wait on him in his way and order. But all
will be in vain, till this stronger one come and cast out the strong man,
till this arbitrary and free wind blow from heaven, and fill the sails.
Sermon X.
Verse 3.—“For what the law could not do, in that it was weak
through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of
sinful flesh, and for sin condemned sin in the flesh.”
The greatest design that ever God had in the world, is certainly the
sending of his own Son into the world. And it must needs be some great
business, that drew so excellent and glorious a person out of heaven. The
plot and contrivance of the world was a profound piece of wisdom and
goodness, the making of men after God’s image was done by a high and
glorious counsel. “Let us make man after our image.” There was something
special in this expression, importing some peculiar excellency in the work
itself, or some special depth of design about it. But what think you of
this consultation,—let one of us be made man, after man’s image and
likeness. That must be a strange piece of wisdom and grace. “Great is the
mystery of godliness, God manifested in the flesh.” No wonder though Paul
cried out, as one swallowed up with this mystery, for indeed it must be
some odd matter beyond all that is in the creation, wherein there are many
mysteries, able to swallow up any understanding, but that in which they
were first formed. This must be the chief of the works of God, the rarest
piece of them all—God to become man, the Creator of all to come in the
likeness of a creature,—he by whom all things were created, and do yet
consist to come in the likeness of the most wretched of all. Strange, that
we do not dwell more, in our thoughts and affections, on this subject.
Either we do not believe it or if we did, we could not but be ravished
with admiration at it. John, the beloved disciple who was often nearest
unto Christ, dwelt most upon this, and made it the subject of his
preaching, “that which was from the beginning, which we have heard, and
seen, and handled, &c.” 1 John i. 1. He speaks of that mystery, as if he
were embracing Jesus Christ in his arms, and holding him out to others,
saying “Come and see.” This divine mystery is the subject of these words
read, but the mystery is somewhat unfolded and opened up to you in them,
yet so as it will not diminish, but increase the wonder of a believing
soul. It is ignorance that magnifies other mysteries, which vilifies
thorough knowledge; but it is the true knowledge of this mystery that
makes it the more wonderful, whereas ignorance only makes it common and
despicable.
There are three things then, of special consideration in the words, which
may declare and open unto you something of this mystery.
First, What was the ground and reason, or occasion of the Son’s sending
into the world; next, What the Son, being sent, did in the world; and the
third, For what end and use it was,—what fruit we have by it.
The ground and reason of God sending his Son, is because there was an
impossibility in the law to save man, which impossibility was not the
law’s fault, but man’s defect, by reason of the weakness and impotency of
our flesh to fulfil the law. Now, God having chosen some to life, and man
having put this obstruction and impediment in his own way, which made it
impossible for the law to give him life, though it was first given out as
the way of life; therefore, that God should not fail in this glorious
design of saving his chosen, he chose to send his own Son, in the likeness
of flesh, as the only remedy of the law’s impossibility. That which
Christ, being sent into the likeness of flesh did, is the condemning of
sin in the flesh, by a sacrifice offered for sin,—even the sacrifice of
his own body upon the cross. He came in the likeness not of the flesh
simply, for he was really a man; but in the likeness of sinful
flesh,—though without sin, yet like a sinner,—as to the outward
appearance, a sinner, because subject to all those infirmities and
miseries which sin did first open a door for. Sin was the inlet of
afflictions, of bodily infirmities and necessities, of death itself; and
when the floods of these did overflow Christ’s human nature, it was a
great presumption to the world, who look and judge according to the
outward appearance, that sin was the sluice opened to let in such an
inundation of calamity. Now, he being thus in the likeness of a sinner,
though not a sinner,—he, for sin, that is, because of sin, that had
entered upon man, and made life impossible to him by the law; by occasion
of that great enemy of God which had conquered mankind, he condemned sin
in his flesh, he overthrew it in its plea and power against us. He
condemned that which condemned us, overcame it in judgment, and made us
free. By sustaining the curse of it in his flesh, he cut off all its plea
against us. This is the great work and business, which was worthy of so
noble a messenger, his own Son, sent to conquer his greatest enemy that he
hates most. And then, in the third place, you see what benefit or fruit
redounds to us by it; what was the end and purpose of it,—verse 4, “that
the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us;” that seeing it was
impossible for us to fulfil the righteousness of the law, and that so it
became impossible to the law to fulfil our reward of life, it might be
fulfilled by him in our name; and so the righteousness of the law being
fulfilled in us by Christ, the reward also of eternal life might be
fulfilled by the law to us,—he having removed the impediment of our
weakness, it might be not only possible, but certain to us.
You would consider then the reason of Christ’s coming. God made at first a
covenant with man, promising him life upon perfect obedience to his law;
and threatening death and damnation upon the transgression thereof. You
see then, what was the way of life to Adam in the state of innocency. He
was made able to satisfy the law with obedience, and the law was
abundantly able to satisfy him, by giving life unto him. God’s image upon
man’s soul instructed him sufficiently for the one and the Lord’s promise
made to him was as sufficient to accomplish the other; so that there was
no impossibility then in the law, by reason of the strength which God gave
man. But it continued not long so. Sin entering upon man, utterly disabled
him; and because the strength of that covenant consisted in that mutual
and joint concurrence of God’s promise and man’s obedience—this being
broken, (the one party falling off,) that life and salvation becomes
impossible to the promise alone to perform. It is sin that is the weakness
and impotency of man. This is the disease which hath consumed his
strength, and concluded man under a twofold impossibility, an
impossibility to satisfy the curse, and an impossibility to obey the
command. There are three things in the covenant of works,—a command of
obedience, and a threatening of wrath and condemnation upon disobedience,
and a promise of life upon obedience. Sin hath disabled us every way. In
relation to the curse and threatening, man cannot satisfy it—no price, no
ransom being found sufficient for the soul for the redemption of it is
precious, and ceaseth for ever. That curse hath infinite wrath in it,
which must needs swallow up finite man. And then in relation to the
command, there is such a diminution of all the powers of the soul, such a
corruption and defilement, by reason of the first sin, that that wherein
man’s strength lay, which was God’s image, is cut off and spoiled, so that
henceforth it is become impossible to yield any acceptable obedience to
the commandment. And hence it is, from our impossibility to obey in time
to come, that there is a holy and faultless impossibility upon the
promise, to give life unto mankind. So you see that the law cannot do it,
because of our weakness. If either man, while he was made upright, had
continued in obedience, or man now fallen from uprightness, could satisfy
for the fault done, and walk without any blemish in time coming, then it
were feasible for the law to give life to us. But the one was not done,
and the other now cannot be done, and so the impossibility of life by
works, is refounded upon ourselves, who would not when we could, and now
neither will nor can obey. Thus we may see clearly, that all mankind must
needs perish, for any thing that man can do, and according to that first
transaction of God with man, unless some other way and device be found
out, which indeed was far from the eyes of all living,—without the reach
of their invention or imagination. I believe if all the creatures, higher
or lower, that have any reason, had convened to consult of this business,
how to repair that breach made in the creation by man’s sin, they might
have vexed their brains, and racked their inventions unto all eternity,
and yet never have fallen upon any probable way of making up this breach.
They might have taken up a lamentation, not as the bemoaners of Babylon’s
ruin,—“we would have healed thee, and thou wouldst not,”—but rather
thus,—we would heal thee, but we could not, and thou wouldst not. This
design, which is here mentioned of repairing the breach, by destroying
that which made it, sin, lay hid in the depth of God’s wisdom, till it
pleased himself to vent and publish it unto poor, forlorn, and desperate
man, who, out of despair of recovery, had run away to hide himself. A poor
shift indeed, for him to think that he could hide himself from him to whom
darkness is as light, and to flee from him whose kingdom is over all, and
who is present in all the corners of his universal kingdom,—in hell, in
heaven, in the utmost corners of the earth. But this silly invention shows
how hopeless the case was.
Though this be the case and condition of man by nature, yet strange it is,
to see every man by nature attempting his own delivery, and fancying a
probability, yea, a certainty of that which is so impossible, that is an
attaining of life by ourselves, according to the law and first covenant of
works. Though our strength be gone, yet, like Samson, men rise up and
think to walk and rouse up themselves as in former times, as if their
strength were yet in them, and many never perceive that it is gone, till
they be laid hold on by Satan according to the law’s injunction, and bound
in the chains of everlasting darkness. But then, alas! it is too late, for
they cannot save themselves, and the season of a Saviour is gone. And
this, no doubt, will be the accession of the bitterness and torment that
damned souls shall be into,—that they dreamed of attaining life by a law
that now is nothing but a ministration of death,—that they lost life by
seeking their own righteousness, and made the law more able to condemn
them, by their apprehending in themselves an ability to satisfy it, and by
resting in a form of obedience to it. There is something natural in it.
Adam and all his posterity were once to be saved this way,—so the terms
run at first, “do this and live.” No wonder that something of that
impression be retained; but that which was a virtue in Adam, while he
retained integrity, and fulfilled his duty, is a mighty fault, and
presumptuous madness in us, who have fallen from that blessed estate. If
man, doing his duty, expected a reward, according to the promise, it was
commendable, but for man, now rebellious and stubborn, and come short of
the glory of God, to look for a reward from God, against whom he warneth
continually, and that for rebellion and enmity, it is damnable. But
besides this, I think this principle of self righteousness is much
corrupted in man now, by what it was in Adam. I conceive, though Adam
looked for life upon obedience, according to the promise, yet he rested
not on, and trusted not in, his obedience. I believe, a holy and righteous
man would be a humble man too, and would rather glory in God’s grace than
in his own works. The sense of a free and undeserved promise would not
suffer him to reflect so much upon his own obedience, or put such a price
upon it. But now, it is conjoined with unmeasurable pride, and arises only
from self-love. There is no ground of men’s looking to be saved by their
own doings, but the inbred pride and self love of the heart, together with
the ignorance of a better righteousness. Adam hid himself among the trees,
and covered his nakedness with leaves, and truly the shift of the most
part is no better. How vain and empty things do men trust unto, and from
them conclude an expectation of eternal life! The most part think to be
safe in the midst or thick of the trees of the church. If they be in the
throng of a visible church, and adorned with church privileges, as
baptism, hearing the word, and such like, they do persuade themselves all
will be well. Some have civility, and a blameless conversation before men,
and with such acts of righteousness, or rather wants of some gross
outbreakings, do many cover their nakedness. If there be yet a larger and
finer garment of profession of religion, and some outward performances of
service to God, and duties to men, O then, men do enforce upon their own
hearts the persuasion of heaven, and think their nakedness cannot be seen
through it! These are the coverings, these are the grounds of claim and
title, that men have to eternal life, and in the meantime they are
ignorant of that large glorious robe of righteousness, which Christ, by
his obedience and sufferings, did weave for naked sinners.
But as the impossibility of the law’s saving us, by reason of the weakness
of the flesh, was the ground and occasion of Christ’s coming into the
flesh for to supply that defect, and take away that impossibility, so the
sense and sight of this impossibility in us to satisfy and fulfill the
law, and of the law to give life, is the very ground and reason of a
soul’s coming to Jesus Christ for the supplying of this want. As the Son
should not have come in the likeness of sinful flesh, unless it had been
otherwise impossible, by man’s doing or suffering, that life should be
obtained, so will not a soul come to Christ, the Son of God, through the
vail of his flesh, until it discern and feel that it is otherwise
impossible to satisfy the law or attain life. That was the impulsive cause
(if we may say that there was any cause beside his love) why Christ
came,—even man’s misery, and remediless misery. And this is the strong
motive and impulsive, that drives a poor sinner unto Jesus Christ,—the
sense and impression of his desperate and lost estate without him. As
there was first sin, and then a Saviour dying for sin, because nothing
else could suffice, so there must be in the soul, first, the apprehension
of sin, and that remediless sin, sin incurable by any created power or
act, and then a sight of a Saviour coming to destroy sin and the works of
the devil, and destroying it by dying for it. There is no employment for
this Physician upon every slight apprehension of a wound or sickness, till
it be found incurable, and help sought elsewhere be seen to be in vain.
Indeed, upon the least apprehension of sin and misery, men ought to come
to Christ. We shall not set or prescribe any measure of conviction to
exclude you, if you can but come to him indeed. Upon the least measure of
it, you will not be cast out, according to his own word, but as certain it
is, that men will not come to this Physician till they find no other can
save them. These two things I wish were deeply and seriously thought
upon,—that you cannot satisfy God’s justice for the least point of guilt,
and then, that you cannot do any thing in obedience to please God. There
is a strange inconsideration, yea, I may say, ignorance among us. When you
are challenged and convinced of sin, (as there is no conscience so
benumbed, but in some measure it accuseth every man of many wrongs,) what
is the course you fall on to pacify it or please God? Indeed, if you can
get any shadow of repentance, if it were but a bare acknowledgment of the
fault, you excuse yourselves in your own consciences, and answer the
accusation by it. Either some other good works formerly done occur to you,
or some resolution for amendment in time coming. And this you think shall
pacify God and satisfy justice. But, alas! you are far from the
righteousness of God, and you do err even in the very foundation of
religion. These are but sparks of your own kindling, and for all these,
you shall lie down in darkness and sorrow. These are but the vain
expiations and excuses of natural consciences, which are led to some sense
of a deity by the law written in their heart. But consider this once,—you
must first satisfy the curse of the law which you are under, before you
can be in any capacity to please him by new obedience. Now, if you should
undertake to pay for your former breaches of the law, that will eternally
ruin you; and therefore, you see the punishment is lengthened throughout
eternity to them who have this to undergo alone. Go then, and first suffer
the eternal wrath of an infinite God, and then come and offer obedience if
thou can. But now, thou art in a double error, both of which are damnable;
one is, thou thinkest thou art able, by consideration and resolution, to
perform some acceptable obedience to God; another, that performance of
obedience, and amending in time coming, will expiate former
transgressions. If either of these were true, Christ needed not to have
come in the likeness of sinful flesh, because it had been possible for the
law to save thee. But now, the truth is, such is the utter disability and
impotency of man through sin, that he can neither will, nor do the least
good, truly good and pleasant to God. His nature and person being defiled,
all he doth is unclean. And then, suppose it were possible that man could
do any thing in obedience to his commands, yet it being unquestionable
that all have sinned, satisfaction must first be made to God’s
threatening, “thou shalt die,” before obedience be acceptable, and that is
impossible too. This, then, I leave upon your consciences, beseeching you
to lay to heart the impossibility you are encompassed with on both hands;
justice requiring a ransom, and you have none, and justice requiring new
obedience again, and you can give none; old debts urging you, and new duty
pressing you, and ye alike disabled for both; that so finding yourselves
thus environed with indigency and impossibility within, you may be
constrained to flee out of yourselves unto him that is both able and
willing. This is not a superficial business, as you make it. It is not a
matter of fancy, or memory, or expression, as most make it. Believe me, it
is a serious business, a soul-work, such an exercise of spirit as useth to
be when the soul is between despair and hope. Impossibility within,
driving a soul out of itself, and possibility, yea, certainty of help
without, even in Christ, drawing a soul in to him. Thus is the closure
made, which is the foundation of our happiness.
Sermon XI.
Verse 3.—“For what the law could not do, in that it was weak
through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of
sinful flesh, and for sin condemned sin in the flesh.”
For what purpose do we meet thus together? I would we knew it,—then it
might be to some better purpose. In all other things we are rational, and
do nothing of moment without some end and purpose. But, alas! in this
matter of greatest moment, our going about divine ordinances, we have
scarce any distinct or deliberate thought of the end and rise of them.
Sure I am, we must all confess this, that all other businesses in our life
are almost impertinent to the great end, the salvation of our souls, in
respect of these, in which God in a manner trysts with men, and comes to
dwell with them. These have the nearest and most immediate connection with
God’s glory and our happiness; and yet so wretched and unhappy are we,
that we study and endeavour a kind of wisdom and diligence in other petty
things, which are to perish with the using, and have no great reach to
make our condition either better or worse; and yet we have no wisdom, nor
consideration, or attention to this great and momentous matter—the
salvation of our souls. Is it not high time we were shaken out of our
empty, vain, and unreasonable custom, in going about such solemn duties,
when the wrath of God is already kindled, and his mighty arm is shaking
terribly the earth, and shaking us out of all our nests of quietness and
consolation, which we did build in the creature? God calls for a
reasonable service: but I must say, the service of the most is an
unreasonable and brutish kind of work,—little or no consideration of what
we are about, little or no purpose or aim at any real soul advantage.
Consider, my beloved, what you are doing, undoing yourselves with
ignorance of your own estate, and unacquaintedness with a better; whence
it comes, that you live contented in your misery, and have no lively
stirrings after this blessed remedy. That for which we meet together is to
learn these two things, and always to be learning them,—to know sensibly
our own wretched misery and that blessed remedy which God hath provided.
It is the sum of the Scriptures, and we desire daily to lay it out before
you, if at length it may please the Lord to awake you out of your dream,
and give you the light of his salvation.
You hear of a weakness of the flesh; but if you would understand it
aright, it is not properly and simply a weakness. That supposeth always
some life, and some strength remaining. It is not like an infirmity, that
only indisposeth to wonted action in the wonted vigour; but it is such a
weakness, as the apostle elsewhere, (Eph. ii. 1,) calls deadness. It is
such a weakness, as may be called wickedness, yea, enmity to God, as it is
here. Our souls are not diseased properly, for that supposeth there is
some remnant of spiritual life, but they are dead in sins and trespasses.
And so it is not infirmity but impossibility,—such a weakness as makes
life and salvation impossible by us, both utter unwillingness and extreme
inability. These two concur in all mankind, no strength to satisfy justice
or obey the law, and no willingness either. There is a general practical
mistake in this. Men conceive that their natures are weak to good, but few
apprehend the wickedness and enmity that is in them to God and all
goodness. All will grant some defect and inability, and it is a general
complaint. But to consider that this inability is an impossibility, that
this defect is a destruction of all spiritual good in us,—the saving
knowledge of this is given to few, and to those only whose eyes the Spirit
opens. There may be some strugglings and wrestlings of natural spirits to
help themselves, and upon the apprehension of their own weakness, to raise
up themselves by serious consideration, and earnest diligence, to some
pitch of serving God, and to some hope of heaven. But I do suspect that it
proceeds in many from the want of this thorough and deep conviction of
desperate wickedness. Few really believe that testimony which God hath
given of man,—he is not only weak, but wicked, and not only so, but
desperately wicked. And that is not all, the heart is deceitful, too, and
to complete the account, “deceitful above all things,” Jer. xvii. 9. A
strange character of man, given by him that formed the spirit of man
within, and made it once upright, and so knows best how far it hath
departed from the first pattern. O who of us believes this in our hearts!
But that is the deceitfulness of our hearts to cover our desperate
wickedness from our own discerning, and flatter ourselves with
self-pleasing thoughts. If once this testimony were received, that the
weakness of the flesh is a desperate wickedness, such a wretched and
accursed condition as there is no hope therein, as is incurable to any
created power, and makes us incurable, and certainly lost,—then, I say,
the deceitfulness of the heart were in some measure cured. Believe this
desperate wickedness of your natures, and then you have deceived the
deceitfulness of your hearts to your own advantage; then you have known
that which none can know aright, till the searcher of the heart and reins
reveal it unto them.
Thus man stands environed with impossibilities. His own weakness and
wickedness, and the law’s impossibility by reason of that,—these do shut
up all access to the tree of life, and are instead of a flaming sword to
guard it. Our legs are cut off by sin, and the law cannot help us; nay,
our life is put out, and the law cannot quicken us. It declares our duty,
but gives no ability; it teacheth well, but it cannot make us learn, While
we are in this posture, God himself steps in to succour miserable and
undone man; and here is the way,—he sends his Son in the likeness of
sinful flesh, and grace and truth come by him, which do remove those
impediments that stopped all access to life.
This is a high subject, but it concerns the lowest and most wretched
amongst us; and that is indeed the wonder of it, that there should be such
a mystery, such a depth in this work of redemption of poor sinners, so
much business made, and such strange things done for repairing our ruins.
In the consideration of this we may borrow that meditation of the
Psalmist’s, Psal. viii. 4, “Lord, what is man, that thou shouldest thus
magnify him; and make him not a little lower than the angels, but far
higher?” “For he took not on him the nature of angels,” Heb. ii. 14, 16;
but took part with the poor children of flesh and blood. This deserves a
pause,—we shall stay a little, and view it more fully in the steps and
degrees that this mystery rises and ascends up by. But, oh! for such an
ascending frame of heart as this deserves. It is a wonder it doth not draw
us upward beyond our own element,—it is a subject of such admiration in
itself, and so much concernment to us.
Every word hath a weight in it, and a peculiar emphasis. There is a
gradation that the mystery goes upon till it come to the top. Every word
hath a degree or stop in it, whereby it rises high, and still higher. “God
sent,”—that is very strange; but God sent “his own Son,”—is most strange.
But go on, and it is still stranger,—in the likeness of “flesh,” and that
“sinful flesh,” &c. In all which degrees you see God is descending and
lower and lower, but the mystery ascends and goes higher and higher; the
lower God coming comes down, the wonder rises up. Still the smaller and
meaner that God appears in the flesh, the greater is the mystery of
godliness, God manifested in the flesh.
If you would rise up to the sensible and profitable understanding of this
mystery, you must first descend into the depths of your own natural
wretchedness and misery, in which man was lying when it pleased God to
come so low to meet him and help him. I say you must first go down that
way in the consideration of it, and then you shall ascend to the use and
knowledge of this mystery of godliness.
God’s sending, hath some weight of wonder in it, at the very first
apprehension of it. If you did but know who he is, and what we are, a
wonder it had been that he had suffered himself to be sent unto by us,
that any message, any correspondence should pass between heaven and earth,
after so foul a breach of peace and covenant by man on earth. Strange,
that heaven was not shut up from all intercourse with that accursed earth.
If God had sent out an angel to destroy man, as he sent to destroy
Jerusalem, (1 Chron. xxi. 15,)—if he had sent out his armies to kill those
his enemies, who had renounced the yoke of his obedience, it had been
justice, Matth. xxi. 41; xxii. 7. If he had sent a cruel messenger against
man, who had now acted so horrid a rebellion, it had been no strange
thing. As he did send an angel with a flaming sword to encompass the tree
of life, he might have enlarged that angel’s commission, to take vengeance
on man: and this is the wonder, he did not send after this manner. But
what heart could this enter into? Who could imagine such a thing as this?
God to send, and to send for peace, to his rebellious footstool! Man could
not have looked for acceptance before the throne, if he had presented and
sent first up supplications and humble cries to heaven; and therefore
finding himself miserable, you see he is at his wits end, he is desperate,
and gives it over, and so flies away to hide himself, certainly expecting
that the first message from heaven should be to arm all the creatures
against him to destroy him. But, O what a wonderful, yet blessed
surprisal! God himself comes down, and not for any such end as vengeance,
though just, but to publish and hold forth a covenant of reconciliation
and peace, to convince man of sin, and to comfort him with the glad
tidings of a Redeemer, of one to be sent in the likeness of flesh. It is
the grandeur and majesty of kings and great men to let others come to them
with their petitions; and it is accounted a rare thing if they be
accessible and affable: but that the Lord of lords and King of kings, who
sitteth in the circle of the heavens, and before whom all the inhabitants
of the earth are as poor grasshoppers, or crawling worms, about whose
throne there are ten thousand times ten thousand glorious spirits
ministering unto him, as Daniel saw him, (chap. vii. 9, 10,)—that such a
one should not only admit such as we to come to him, and offer our suits
to his Highness, but himself first to come down unto Adam, and offer peace
to him, and then send his own Son! And what were we that he should make
any motion about us, or make any mission to us? Rom. v. 10. While we were
yet “enemies,” that we were when he sent. O how hath his love triumphed
over his justice! But needed he fear our enmity, that he should seek
peace? Nowise; one look of his angry countenance would have looked us into
nothing,—“Thou lookest upon me, and I am not; one rebuke of his for
iniquity, would have made our beauty consume as the moth, far more the
stroke of his hand had consumed us,” Psalm xxxix. 11. But that is the
wonder indeed,—while we were yet “enemies;” and weak too, neither able to
help ourselves, nor hurt him in the least, and so could do nothing to
allure him, nothing to terrify him, nothing to engage his love, nothing to
make him fear; yet then he makes this motion, and mission to us, “God
sending,” &c.
God sending, and “sending his own Son,” that is yet a step higher. Had he
sent an angel, it had been wonderful, one of those ministering spirits
about the throne being far more glorious than man. But “God so loved the
world, that he sent his Son.” Might he not have done it by others? But he
had a higher project; and verily, there is more mystery in the end and
manner of our redemption, than difficulty in the thing itself. No
question, he might have enabled the creature, by his almighty power, to
have destroyed the works of the devil, and might have delivered captive
man some other way. He needed not, for any necessity lying upon him, to go
such a round as the Father to give the Son, and the Son to receive,—as God
to send, and the Son to be sent. Nay, he might have spared all pains, and
without any messenger, immediately pardoned man’s sin, and adopted him to
the place of sons. Thus he had done the business, without his Son’s, or
any other’s travail and labour in blood and suffering. But this profound
mystery, in the manner of it, declares the highness and excellency of the
end God proposed, and that is the manifestation of his love; “Behold, what
manner of love the Father hath bestowed on us,” 1 John iii. 1. And “in
this was manifested the love of God toward us, that God sent his only
begotten Son into the world,” 1 John iv. 9. And truly for such a design
and purpose, all the world could not have contrived such a suitable and
excellent mean as this. Nothing besides this could have declared such
love. There is no expression of love imaginable to this,—to give his Son,
and only begotten Son for us. It had been enough, out of mere compassion,
to have saved us, however it had been. But if he had given all, and done
all besides this, he had not so manifested the infinite fulness of love.
There is no gift so suitable to the greatness and magnificence of his
majesty, as this,—one that thought it no robbery to be equal with himself.
Any gift had been infinitely above us, because from him; but this is not
only infinitely above us, but equal to himself, and fittest to declare
himself.
But then, there is yet a higher rise of the mystery, or a lower descent of
God; for it is all one, God descending is the wonder ascending,—he sent
his Son. Man’s admiration is already exhausted in that. But if there were
any thing behind, this which follows would consume it,—in the flesh. If he
had sent his own Son, might he not have sent him in an estate and
condition suitable to his glory, as it became the Prince and Heir of all
things, him by whom all were created and do subsist? Nay, but he is sent,
and that in a state of humiliation and condescendency, infinitely below
his own dignity. That ever he was made a creature, that the Maker of all
should be sent in the form of any thing he had made, O what a
disparagement! There is no such distance between the highest prince on the
throne, and the basest beggar on the dunghill, as between the only
begotten of the Father, who is the brightness of his glory, and the most
glorious angel that ever was made. And yet, it would be a wonder to the
world, if a king should send his son in the habit and state of a beggar,
to call in the poor, and lame, and blind, to the fellowship of his
kingdom. It had been a great mystery, then, if God had been manifested in
the nature of angels, a great abasement of his majesty. But, O what must
it be for God to be manifested in the flesh, in the basest, naughtiest,
and most corruptible of all the creatures, even the very dregs of the
creation, that have sunk down to the bottom! “All flesh is grass;” and
what more withering and fading, even the flower and perfection of it! Is.
xl. 6. Dust it is, and what baser? Gen. xviii. 27. And corruption it is,
and what viler? 1 Cor. xv. 44. And yet God sent his Son in the flesh. Is
this a manifestation? Nay, rather, it is a hiding and obscuration of his
glory. It is the putting on of a dark veil to eclipse his brightness. Yet
manifested he is, as the intendment of the work he was about
required,—manifested to reproach and ignominy for our sin. This is one,
and a great point of Christ’s humiliation,—that he took not on him the
nature of angels, but the seed of Abraham, Heb. ii. 16.
But yet, to complete this mystery more, the Son descends a third step
lower, that the mystery may ascend so much the higher, in the likeness of
flesh? Not so, but in the likeness of sinful flesh. If he had appeared in
the prime flower and perfection of flesh, in the very goodliness of it,
yet it had been a disparagement. If he had come down as glorious as he
once went up, and now “sits at the right hand of the majesty on high;” if
he had been always in that resplendent habit he put on in his
transfiguration; that had been yet an abasement of his majesty. But, to
come in the likeness of sinful flesh, though not a sinner, yet in the
likeness of a sinner,—so like as that, touching his outward appearance, no
eye could discern any difference, compassed about with all those
infirmities and necessities, which are the followers and attendants of sin
in us; “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;” a man who all his
lifetime had intimate acquaintance, and familiarity with grief. Grief and
he were long acquaintance, and never parted till death parted them. Nay,
not only was he, in his outward estate, subject to all those miseries and
infirmities unto which sin subjects other men, but something beyond all,
“his visage was more marred than any man’s, and his form more than the
sons of men,” Isa. lii. 14; and therefore he was a hissing and
astonishment to many. He had no form nor comeliness in him, and no beauty
to make him desirable; and therefore his own friends were ashamed of him,
and hid their faces from him; “he was despised and rejected of men,” Isa.
liii. 2, 3. Thus you see, he comes in the most despicable and disgraceful
form of flesh that can be; and an abject among men, and as himself speaks
in Psal. xxii. 6, “a worm, and not a man;” a reproach of men, and despised
among the people. Now this, I say, is the crowning of the great mystery of
godliness, which, without all controversy, is the mystery in all the world
that hath in it most greatness and goodness combined together, that is the
subject of the highest admiration, and the fountain of the sweetest
consolation that either reason or religion can afford. The mysteries of
the Trinity are so high, that if any dare to reach to them, he doth but
catch the lower fall;(171) it is as if a worm would attempt to touch the
sun in the firmament. But this mystery is God coming down to man, to be
handled and seen of men, because man could not rise up to God’s highness.
It is God descending to our baseness, and so coming near us to save us. It
is not a confounding but a saving mystery. There is the highest truth in
it, for the understanding to contemplate and admire; and there is the
greatest good in it, for the will to choose and rest upon. It is contrived
for wonder and delight to men and angels. These three, which the angelic
song runs upon, are the jewels of it,—“glory to God, peace on earth, and
good-will toward men.”
Sermon XII.
Verse 3.—“For what the law could not do, in that it was weak
though the flesh, God sending his own Son,” &c.
Of all the works of God towards man, certainly there is none hath so much
wonder in it, as the sending of his Son to become man; and so it requires
the exactest attention in us. Let us gather our spirits to consider of
this mystery,—not to pry into the secrets of it curiously, as if we had no
more to do but to satisfy our understandings; but rather that we may see
what this concerns us, and what instruction or advantage we may have by
it, that so it may ravish our affections. I believe there is very palpable
and gross ignorance in thousands of the very thing itself. Many who
profess Jesus Christ, know not his natures, or his glorious person,—do not
apprehend either his highness as God, or his lowness as man. But truly,
the thing that I do most admire, is, that those who pretend to more
knowledge of this mystery, yet few of them do enter upon any serious
consideration about it,—for what use and purpose it is; though it be the
foundation of our salvation, the chief ground of our faith, and the great
spring of our consolation. Yet to improve the knowledge of it to any
purpose of that kind, is a thing so rare, even among true Christians, that
it is little the subject of their meditation. I think, indeed, the lively
improvement of this mystery of godliness would be very effectual to make
us really what we are said to be, that is, Christians. There is something
to this purpose, 1 John iv. 2, 3, 15, and v. 1. The confessing and knowing
that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh, and is the Son of God, before his
taking on flesh, is made a character of a spiritual man that dwelleth in
God. Not that a bare external confession, or internal opinion and assent
to such a truth, is of so much value,—which yet is the height that many
attain unto; but it is such a soul acknowledgment, such an heart
approbation of this mystery, as draws alongst the admiration and affection
after it, as fixeth the heart upon this object alone, for life and
salvation. The devils confessed and believed, but they trembled at it,
Luke iv. 34, 41. He was afraid of what he knew, but Peter confessed and
loved what he knew; yea, he did cast his soul upon that Lord whom he
confessed. It is such an acknowledgment of Christ, as draweth the soul,
and unites it to him, by a serious and living embracement. Such a sight of
Jesus Christ, hath both truth and goodness in it, in the highest measure;
and so doth not only constrain the assent of the mind, but is a powerful
attractive to the heart, to come to him, and live in him. I pray you
consider then what moment is in this truth, that you may indeed apply your
souls to the consideration of what is in Jesus Christ thus revealed, not
simply to know it, but for a further improvement of it, to seek life in
him, that the stamp and impression of this Saviour may be set so deeply on
your souls, as that you may express this in a real confession of him in
your words and works, Tit. i. 16; Matt. vii. 21. This is indeed to know
and confess that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh, to fetch thence the
ground of all our hope and consolation, and to draw thence the most
powerful motives to walking “even as he walked,” to improve it for
confidence in him, and obedience to him.
I shall speak then a word of these two great ends and purposes,—of God’s
sending his own Son, in the likeness of sinful flesh, his own glory and
man’s good. The song of angels at his birth shows this,—“Glory to God in
the highest, peace on earth, and good will toward men.” His glory is
manifested in it in an eminent manner. The glory of his wisdom,—that found
out a remedy. What a deep contrivance was it! How infinitely beyond all
creature inventions! Truly there are riches of wisdom, depths of wisdom in
it. I think it could never have entered the thought of men or angels;—all
men once to be drowned under a deluge of sin and misery, and made subjects
to God’s righteous judgment, and then to find out a way how to deliver and
save so many! All the wisdom that shines in the order and beauty of the
world seems to be but a rude draught to this. Then, herein doth the glory
of his mercy and grace shine most brightly, that he transfers the
punishment due to man’s sin upon his own Son, that when no ransom could be
found by man, he finds it out, how to satisfy his own justice, and save
us. Truly, this is the most shining jewel in the crown of God’s glory,—so
much mercy towards so miserable sinners, so much grace towards the
rebellious. If he had pardoned sin, without any satisfaction, what rich
grace had it been! But truly, to provide the Lamb and sacrifice himself,
to find out the ransom, and to exact it of his own Son, in our name, is a
testimony of mercy and grace far beyond that. But then, his justice is
very conspicuous in this work. And indeed these two do illustrate one
another; the justice of God, in taking and exacting the punishment of sin
upon his own well-beloved Son, doth most eminently heighten the mercy and
grace of God towards us; and his grace and mercy in passing by us, doth
most marvellously illustrate the righteousness of God, in making his own
Son a curse for us. What testimony can be given in the world, of God’s
displeasure at sin, of his righteousness in punishing sin, like this!
There was no such testimony of love to sinners and no such demonstration
of hatred at sin imaginable. That he did not punish sin in us, but
transfer it over on his most beloved Son, O what love and grace! And that
he did punish his own Son, when standing in the place of sinners, O what
righteousness and justice! This is that glorious mystery, the conjunction
of these two resplendent jewels, justice and mercy, of love and
displeasure, in one chain of Christ’s incarnation, into which the angels
desire to look, 1 Pet. i. 12. And truly they do wonder at it, and praise
from wonder. This is it, that the praises of men and angels shall roll
about eternally. David, (Ps. ciii. 20,) foreseeing this day, foretold that
angels should praise him, and now it is fulfilled, when all these glorious
companies of holy, powerful spirits, welcome the Son of God into the
world, by that heavenly harmony of praise. Luke ii. 14.
What lumpishness and earthliness is in us, that we do not rise up above,
to this melody in our spirits, to join with angels in this song, we, I
say, whom it most concerns! The angels wonder, and praise and wonder at
this, because the glory of God shines so brightly in it, as if there were
many suns in one firmament, as the light of seven days in one. These three
especially,—wisdom, mercy and grace, justice and righteousness, every one
of them looks like the sun in its strength, carried about in this orb of
the redemption of man, to the ravishing of the hearts of all the
honourable and glorious companies above, and making them cheerfully and
willingly to contribute all their service to this work, to be ministering
spirits to wait on the heirs of salvation!
Now, when the glory of the highest raiseth up such a melodious song above,
among angels, O what should both the glory of the highest God, and the
highest good of man do to us! When the greatest glory of God, and the
chiefest advantage of man are linked together in this chain, what should
we do but admire and adore, adore and admire, and, while we are in this
earth, send up our consent to that harmony in heaven!
In relation to our good, much might be said, but we shall briefly show
unto you, that it is the greatest confirmation of our faith, and the
strongest motive to humility, that can be afforded. Now, if we could be
composed thus unto confidence and reverence, to glorify him by believing
and to abase ourselves, to believe in him, and walk humbly with him, upon
the meditation of Christ’s coming in the flesh, this would make us true
Christians indeed.
There is nothing, I know more powerful to persuade us of the reality of
God’s invitations and promises to us than this. We are still seeking signs
and tokens of God’s love, something to warrant us to come to God in
Christ, and to persuade us that we shall be welcome, and many Christians
puddle themselves in the mire of their own darkness and discouragement,
because they cannot find any thing in themselves that can give but the
least probable conjecture, that he will admit and welcome them to come to
him, or that such precious promises, and sweet invitations, can belong to
such sinners as they conceive themselves to be. Truly, my beloved, I
think, while we exercise ourselves thus, we are seeking the sun with a
candle, making that which is in itself as bright as the light to be more
dark. The evidence of God’s reality in offering life to you in Christ, and
his willingness to receive you is not without the compass of his
invitation, and yet you seek it where it is least to be found, that is, in
yourselves. But indeed, his invitations in the gospel carry the evidence
in their bosom,—that which is above all other signs and evidences that he
did even send his own Son in the flesh for this purpose. Is there any
thing besides this, either greater or clearer? I think we are like those
who, when they had seen many signs and wonders done by Christ, which did
bear testimony to all the world of his divine nature, yet they would not
be satisfied, but sought out another sign, tempting him, Matt. xvi. 1. And
truly, he might return this answer to us, “O wicked and adulterous
generation, that seeketh after a sign, there shall no sign be given to
thee, but the sign of the prophet Jonas.” The greatest testimony that can
be imagined, is given already,—that the Father should send his only
begotten and well beloved Son into the state of a servant for man. If this
do not satisfy, I know not what will. I see not how any work of his Spirit
in us, can make so much evidence of his reality and faithfulness in the
gospel, and of his willingness to welcome sinners. All the works of the
creation, all the works of grace, are nothing to this, to manifest his
love to men; and therefore there is a singular note upon it, “God so loved
the world, that he gave his Son,” John iii. 16. And in this was his love
manifested, that he sent his Son, 1 John iv. 9. If men and angels had set
themselves to devise and find out a pledge or confirmation of the love of
God, they would have fallen upon some revelation unto, or some operation
upon their spirits. But, alas, this is infinitely above that. His own
express image, and the brightness of his glory, is come down to hear
witness of his love, nay, he who is equal with himself in glory, is given
as a gift to men; and is not he infinitely more than created gifts or
graces, who is the very spring and fountain of them all? “God so loved the
world,” that truly he gave no such gift besides, to testify such a love.
Therefore, when all that he hath done in this kind cannot satisfy thy
scrupulous mind, but thou wilt still go on, to seek more confirmation of
his readiness to receive thee, I think it is a tempting of the Holy One,
which may draw such an answer from him, O wicked and adulterous person,
there shall no sign be given thee, but that which is darker than the
former, that which thou shalt understand less. Thou mayest get what thou
seekest, perhaps some more satisfaction in thy own condition, but it shall
plunge thee more in the issue. Thou shalt always be unsettled, and
“unconstant as water, thou shalt not excel.” I confess indeed, if we speak
of the manifestation of one’s particular interest in these promises, and
of an evidence of the love of God to thee, in particular, then there must
needs be something wrought by the Holy Spirit on thy soul, to draw down
the general testimony of God’s love to mankind into a particular
application to thyself. But that I do not speak of now, because that is
the sealing of the Spirit after believing, and because you are always
unsettled in the first and main point, of flying unto the Son, and waiting
on him for life, therefore have you so much inevidence and weakness in
that which follows. That which I now speak of is, that if this were
cordially believed, and seriously considered, that God sent his own Son in
the flesh, to save sinners, you could not readily have any doubt, but that
your coming to him for salvation would be welcome. You could not say, that
such precious invitations could not belong to sinners, or that he could
not love the like of you. Truly, I think, if the general were laid to
heart, that God hath so loved mankind, that he gave such a gift unto them,
there is none could make any more question of his reality, when that gift
is tendered to any in particular. Nay, I think it is the inconsideration
of this general evidence and manifestation of love to the world, that
makes you so perplexed in particulars. Could you have so much difficulty
to believe his love to you, if you indeed believe that he hath loved the
world, that is, so many thousands like you? Is there so much distance, I
pray you, between you and another, as between him and all? If, then, he
loves so many miserable sinners, is there any impossibility in it, but he
may love you? For what is in them that might conciliate his love? I tell
you why I think the right apprehension of the general truths of the gospel
would be able, like the sun in its strength, to scatter all the clouds and
mists of our particular interest-debates, because I find, that those very
grounds, upon which you call in question your own particular interest, if
you did consider them, you would find they go a further length, to
conclude against all others, and either they have no strength in your
case, or they will be of equal force to batter down the confidence of all
the saints, and the certainty of all the promises. What is it that
troubles you, but that you are sinners, and such sinners, so vile and
loathsome? From whence you do conclude, not only that you have no present
assurance of his love, but that he cannot love such a one as you are. Now,
I say, if this hold good, in reference to you, take heed that you condemn
not yourselves in that which you approve,—that is, that you do not dispute
against the interest of all the saints, who were such as you are, and the
tenth of those fundamental positions of the gospel. “God so loved the
world,” &c. And so you do not only wrong yourselves, but all others, and
not only so, but you offer the greatest indignity to him that out of love
sent his Son, and to him who, out of love, came and laid down his life. O
consider how you indignify(172) and set at nought that great manifestation
of God’s love, “God manifested in the flesh,” how you despise his love
pledge to sinners, a greater than which he could not give you, because as
great as himself! O that you could see the consequence of your anxious and
perplexing doubts,—that they do not only an injury to your own souls, but
that they are of a more bloody nature! If they held good, they would cut
off the life and salvation of all believers, and, which is worse, they
would, by an unavoidable consequence, conclude an antichristian point,
that Christ is not come in the flesh. I beseech you, unbowel your evils,
that you may abhor them.
This may strengthen our faith, and minister much consolation, in another
consideration too, that which is laid down, Heb. ii. 17, and iv. 15, that
he was partaker of our nature and in all things like unto his brethren,
that so he might be a merciful High Priest, able to succour us and touched
with the feeling of our infirmities. What strong consolation may be sucked
out of these breasts! When it was impossible that man could rise up to
God, because of his infinite highness and holiness, behold, God hath come
down to man, in his lowness and baseness. He hath sent down this ladder
from heaven to the earth, that poor wretched sinners may ascend upon it.
It is come down as low as our infirm, weak, and frail nature, that we may
have easy coming up to it, and going up upon it to heaven. Therefore his
flesh is called a “new and living way,” because a poor sinner may be
assured of welcome and acceptation with one of his own kind, his
brother,—(he was not ashamed to call us brethren,)—flesh of his flesh, and
bone of his bone. This may make boldness of access, that we have not God
to speak to, or come to immediately, as he is clothed with glory and
majesty, and as the Jews heard him on mount Sinai, and desired a mediator
between him and them, but that great prophet promised to them hath come,
and we have him between us and God,—as low as we, that we may speak to
him, “riding upon an ass,” a low ass, that every one may whisper their
desires in his ear—and yet as high as God, that he may speak to God, and
have power with him. Truly, this is a sweet trysting place to meet God
in, that no sinner may have any fear to come to it, to this treaty of
peace and reconciliation. How may it persuade us of that great privilege
that we may “become the sons of God,” when the Son of God is become the
Son of man, John i. 11, 12. Truly, though it be hard to be believed, that
such as we should become the sons of the great King, yet it is nothing so
strange as this, that the eternal and only begotten Son of the great God,
should become the Son of wretched man. That highness will be easily
believed, if we consider this lowness. It will not be so hard to persuade
a soul that there is a way of union and reconciliation to God, of being
yet at peace with him, if this be pondered,—that God hath married his own
nature with ours,—in one person, to be a pledge of that union and peace.
And then how much quickening and comfort may it yield us, that he was not
only a man, but a miserable man, and that not through any necessity, but
only the necessity of love and compassion. He had enough of mercy to save
us as God, he had enough of love and compassion as man, but he would take
on misery too in his own person, that he might be experimentally merciful
to us. Certainly, the experience of misery and infirmity must superadd
some tenderness to the heart of our High Priest. But though it did not
help him to be more pitiful, yet it was done for us, to help us to have
more confidence in him, and boldness to come unto him. What an
encouragement is it for a poor man to come unto the once poor Jesus
Christ, who “had not where to lay his head?” He knows the evil of
poverty, and he chose to know it, that he might have compassion on thee.
With what boldness may poor afflicted and despised believers come to him!
Why? Because himself had experience of all that, and he was familiarly
acquainted with grief and sorrow, therefore he can sympathize best with
thee. Let us speak even of the sinful infirmities thou art subject to.
That there might be a suitableness in him to help thee, he came as nigh as
might be,—he was willing to be tempted to sin, and so he knows the power
that temptations must have over weak and frail natures, but sin he could
not, for that had been evil for us. Let this, then, give us boldness to
come to him.
I would desire to persuade you to humility from this, according to the
lesson Christ gives us, Matt. xi. 29, “Learn of me, for I am meek and
lowly.” And the apostle makes singular use of this mystery of the
abasement of the Majesty, to abate from our high esteem of ourselves,
Phil. ii. 3-6. O should not the same mind be in us that was in Christ! God
abased, man exalted,—how unsuitable are these, think you! God lowly in
condition and disposition, and man, though base in condition, yet high in
his deposition and in his own estimation! What more mysterious than God
humbled? And what more monstrous than man proud? Truly, pride is the most
deformed thing in a man, but in a Christian it is monstrous and
prodigious. If he did humble himself out of charity and love, who was so
high and glorious, how should we humble ourselves out of necessity, who
are so low and base? And out of charity and love too, to be conformed and
like unto him! Nature may persuade the one, but Christianity teacheth the
other,—to be lowly in mind, and esteem every one better than ourselves. To
be meek, patient, long-suffering, reason may persuade it, upon the
consideration of our own baseness, emptiness, frailty, and nothingness.
But this lesson is taught in Christ’s school, not from that motive
only,—the force of necessity, but from a higher motive,—the constraint of
love to Jesus Christ,—“learn of me.” Suppose there were no necessity of
reason in it, yet affection might be a stronger necessity to persuade
conformity to him, and following his example, who became so low, and
humbled himself to the death even for us.
Sermon XIII.
Verse 3.—“And for sin condemned sin in the flesh.”
The great and wonderful actions of great and excellent persons must needs
have some great ends answerable to them. Wisdom will teach them not to do
strange things, but for some rare purposes, for it were a folly and
madness to do great things to compass some small and petty end, as
unsuitable as that a mountain should travail to bring forth a mouse. Truly
we must conceive, that it must needs be some honourable and high business,
that brought down so high and honourable a person from heaven as the Son
of God. It must be something proportioned to his majesty and his wisdom.
And indeed so it is. There is a great capital enemy against God in the
world, that is sin. This arch-rebel hath drawn man from his subordination
to God, and sown a perpetual discord and enmity between them. This hath
conquered all mankind, and among the rest, even the elect and chosen of
God, those whom God had in his eternal counsel predestinated to life and
salvation. Sin brings all into bondage, and exerciseth the most perfect
tyranny over them that can be imagined, makes men to serve all its
imperious lusts, and then all the wages is death,—it binds them over to
judgment. Now this sedition and rebellion being arisen in the world, and
one of the most noble creatures carried away in this revolt, from
allegiance to the divine majesty, the most holy and wise counsel of heaven
concludes to send the King’s Son, to compesce(173) this rebellion, to
reduce men again unto obedience, and destroy that arch traitor, sin, which
his nature most abhors. And for this end the Son of the great King, Jesus
Christ, came down into the world, to deliver captive man, and to condemn
conquering sin. There is no object that God hath so pure and perfect
displeasure at as sin. Therefore he sent to condemn that which he hates
most (and perfectly he hates it)—to condemn sin. And this is expressed as
the errand of his coming, 1 John iii. 5, 8, to “destroy the works of the
devil.” All his wicked and hellish plots and contrivances against man, all
that poison of enmity and sin, that out of envy and malice he spued out
upon man, and instilled into his nature, all those works of that prince of
darkness, in enticing man from obedience to rebellion, and tyrannizing
over him since, by the imperious laws of his own lusts, in a word, all
that work that was contrived in hell, to bring poor man down to that same
misery with devils; all that Christ, the only begotten Son of the great
King, came (for this noble business) to destroy it,—that tower which Satan
was building up against heaven, and had laid the foundation of it as low
as hell, this was Christ’s business down among men, to destroy that
Babylon, that tower of darkness and confusion, and to build up a tower of
light and life, to which tower sinners might come, and be safe, and by
which they might really ascend into heaven. Some do by these words “for
sin,” understand the occasion and reason of Christ’s coming, that it was,
because sin had conquered the world, and subjected man to condemnation,
therefore, Jesus Christ came into the world to conquer sin and condemn it,
that we might be free from condemnation by sin. And this was the special
cause of his taking on flesh. If sin had not entered into the world,
Christ had not come into it, and if sin had not erected a throne in man’s
flesh, Christ had not taken on flesh,—he had not come in the likeness of
sinful flesh. So that this may administer unto us abundant consolation. If
this was the very cause of his coming, that which drew him down from that
delightful and blessed bosom of the Father, then he will certainly do that
which he came for. He cannot fail of his purpose, he cannot miss his end:
he must condemn sin, and save sinners. And truly this is wonderful love,
that he took sin only for his party, and came only for sin, or against
sin, and not against poor sinners. He had no commission of the Father but
this, as himself declares, John iii. 17; for “God sent not his Son into
the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be
saved.” As one observes well, Christ would never have hinted at such a
jealousy, or suggested such a thought to men’s minds, had it not been in
them before. But this we are naturally inclined unto,—to think hard of
God, and can hardly be persuaded of his love, when once we are persuaded
of our enmity. Indeed the most part of the world fancy a persuasion of
God’s love, and have not many jealousies of it, because they know not
their own enmity against God. But let a man see himself indeed God’s
enemy, and it is very hard to make him believe any other thing of God, but
that he carries a hostile mind against him. And therefore Christ, to take
off this, persuades and assures us, that neither the Father nor he had any
design upon poor sinners, nor any ambushment against them; but mainly, if
not only, this was his purpose in sending, and Christ’s in coming,—not
against man, but against sin; not to condemn sinners, but to condemn sin,
and save sinners. O blessed and unparalleled love, that made such a real
distinction between sin and sinners, who were so really one! Shall not we
be content to have that woful and accursed union with sin dissolved? Shall
not we be willing to let sin be condemned in us, and to have our own souls
saved? I beseech you, beloved in the Lord, do not think to maintain always
Christ’s enemy, that great traitor against which he came from heaven.
Wonder that he doth not prosecute both as enemies; but if he will destroy
the one and save the other, O let it be destroyed, not you; and so much
the more, for that it will destroy you! Look to him, so iniquity shall not
be your ruin, but he shall be the ruin of iniquity. But if you will not
admit of such a division between you and your sins, take heed that you be
not eternally undivided, that you have not one common lot for ever, that
is, condemnation. Many would be saved, but they would be saved with sin
too. Alas! that will condemn thee. As for sin, he hath proclaimed
irreconcilable enmity against it, he hath no quarter to give it, he will
never come in terms of composition with it, and all because it is his
mortal enemy. Therefore let sin be condemned, that thou mayest be saved.
It cannot be saved with thee, but thou mayest be condemned with it.
The words, “for sin,” may be taken in another sense as fitly, “a sacrifice
for sin,” so that the meaning is,—Jesus Christ came to condemn and
overthrow sin in its plea against us by a sacrifice for sin, that is, by
offering up his own body or flesh. And thus you have the way and means how
Christ conquered sin, and accomplished the business he was sent for. It
was by offering a sacrifice for sin, to expiate wrath, and so satisfy
justice. “The sting” and strength “of death is sin, and the strength of
sin is the law,” as the apostle speaks it, 1 Cor. xv. 55. We had two great
enemies against us, two great tyrants over us,—sin and death. Death had
passed upon all mankind. Not only the miseries of this life and temporal
death had subjected all men, but the fear of an eternal death, of an
everlasting separation from the blessed face of God, might have seized
upon all, and subjected them to bondage, Heb. ii. 15. But the strength and
sting of that is sin; it is sin that arms death and hell against us. Take
away sin, and you take away the sting, the strength of death,—it hath no
force or power to hurt man. But death being the wages due for sin, (Rom.
vi. 23.) all the certainty and efficacy in the wages flows from this work
of darkness,—sin. But now “the strength of sin is the law.” This puts a
poisonable and destructive virtue in the sting of sin, for it is the
sentence of God’s law, and the justice and righteousness of God, that hath
made so inseparable a connection between sin and death. This gives sin a
destroying and killing virtue. Justice arms it with power and authority to
condemn man, so that there can be no freedom, no releasement from that
condemnation, no eschewing that fatal sting of death, unless the sentence
of God’s law, which hath pronounced “thou shalt die,” be repealed, and the
justice of God be satisfied by a ransom. And this being done, the strength
of sin is quite gone, and so the sting of death removed.
Now, this had been impossible for man to do. These parties were too strong
for any created power. The strength of sin to condemn may be called some
way infinite, because it flows from the unchangeable law of the infinite
justice of God. Now, what power could encounter that strength, except that
which hath infinite strength too? Therefore, it behoved the Son of God to
come for this business; to condemn sin and save the sinner. And being
come, he yokes first with the very strength of sin, for he knew where its
strength did lie, and so did encounter first of all with that,—even the
justice of his Father, the hand-writing of ordinances that was against us;
for if once he can set them aside, as either vanquished or satisfied, he
hath little else to do. Now, he doth not take a violent way in this
either. He doth it not with the strong hand, but deals wisely, and (to
speak so with reverence) cunningly in it; he came under the law, that he
might redeem them who were under the law, Gal. iv. 4. Force will not do
it, the law cannot be violated, justice cannot be compelled to forego its
right. Therefore our Lord Jesus chooseth, as it were, to compound with the
law, to submit unto it: He was “made under the law,” he who was above the
law, being lawgiver in mount Sinai, Acts vii. 38; Gal. iii. 19. He cometh
under the bond and tie of it, to fulfil it: “I came not to destroy the law
but to fulfil it,” Matt. v. 17. He would not offer violence to the law, to
deliver sinners contrary to the commination of it, or without satisfaction
given unto it, for that would reflect upon the wisdom and righteousness of
the Father who gave the law. But he doth it better in an amicable way,—by
submission and obedience to all its demands. Whatsoever it craved of the
sinner, he fulfils that debt. He satisfies the bond in his own person by
suffering, and fulfils all the commandments by obedience. And thus, by
subjection to the law, he gets power over the law, because his subjection
takes away all its claim and right over us. Therefore it is said, that he
blotted out the hand-writing of ordinances, which was against us, by
nailing it to his cross; and so took it out of the way, Col. ii. 14.
Having fulfilled the bond, he cancelled it, and so it stands in no force
either against him or us. Thus, the strength of sin, which is the law, is
removed; and by this means, sin is condemned in the flesh. By the
suffering of his flesh, it is fallen from all its plea against sinners;
for, that upon which it did hang, viz. the sentence of the law, is taken
out of the way, so that it hath no apparent ground to fasten any
accusation upon a poor sinner that flies into Jesus Christ, and no ground
at all to condemn him,—it is wholly disabled in that point. For, as the
Philistines found where Samson’s strength lay, and cut his hair, so Christ
hath in his wisdom found where the strength of sin’s plea against man lay,
and hath cut off the hair of it, that is, the handwriting of ordinances
which was against us.
This is that which hath been shadowed out from the beginning of the world
by the types of sacrifices and ceremonies. All those offerings of beasts,
of fowls, and such like, under the law, held forth this one sacrifice,
that was offered in the fulness of time to be a propitiation for the sins
of the world. And something of this was used among the Gentiles before
Christ’s coming, certainly by tradition from the fathers, who have looked
afar off to this day, when this sweet-smelling sacrifice should be offered
up to appease Heaven. And it is not without a special providence, and
worthy the remarking, that since the plenary and substantial One was
offered, the custom of sacrificing hath ceased throughout the world. God,
as it were, proclaiming to all men, by this cessation of sacrifices, as
well as silence of oracles, that the true atonement and propitiation is
come already, and the true Prophet is come from heaven, to reveal God’s
mind unto the world. There were many ceremonies in sacrificing observed,
to hold out unto us the perfection of our atonement and propitiation. They
laid their hands on the beast, who brought it, to signify the imputation
of our sins to Christ, that he who knew no sin was made sin for us, that
we might be made the righteousness of God in him. And truly, it is worth
the observation, that even those sacrifices for sin were called sin; and
so the word is used promiscuously in Leviticus, to point out unto us, that
Jesus Christ should make his soul sin, (Isa. liii. 10,) that is, a
sacrifice for sin, and be made sin for us, that is, a sacrifice for sin.
When the blood was poured out (because without shedding of blood there was
no reconciliation, Heb. ix. 22,) the priest sprinkled it seven times
before the Lord, to shadow out the perfection of that expiation for our
sins, in the virtue and perpetuity thereof (Heb. ix. 26) that he should
appear to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself,—to put it away, as if
it had never been, by taking it on him and bearing it. And then the high
priest was to bring in of the blood into the holy place and within the
vail, and sprinkle the mercy seat, to show unto us, that the merit and
efficacy of Christ’s blood should enter into the highest heavens to
appease the wrath of God. Our High Priest, by his own blood hath entered
into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us, Heb. ix.
12. And truly this is that sacrifice, which being offered without spot to
God, pacifies all, ver. 14. Sin hath a cry, it crieth aloud for vengeance.
This blood silenceth it, and composeth all to favour and mercy. It hath so
sweet and fragrant a smell in God’s account, that it fills heaven with the
perfume of it. He is that true scape goat, who, notwithstanding that he
did hear all the sins of his people, yet he did escape alive. Albeit he
behoved to make his soul a sacrifice for sin, and so die for it, yet by
this means he hath condemned sin, by being condemned for sin. By this
means he hath overcome death and the grave, by coming under the power of
death, and so is now alive for ever, to improve his victory for our
salvation. And by taking on our sins he hath fully abolished the power and
plea of them, as the goat that was sent to the wilderness out of all men’s
sight was not to be seen again. Truly, this is the way how our sins are
buried in the grave of oblivion and removed as a cloud, and cast into the
depths of the sea, and sent away as far as the east is from the west that
they may never come into judgment against us to condemn us because Christ,
by appeasing wrath and satisfying justice by the sacrifice of himself,
hath overthrown them in judgment, and buried them in the grave with his
own body.
You see then my beloved, a solid ground of consolation against all our
fears and sorrows;—an answer to all the accusations of our sins. Here is
one for all, one above all. You would have particular answers to satisfy
your particular doubts. You are always seeking some satisfaction to your
consciences besides this, but believe it all that can be said, besides
this atonement and propitiation, is of no more virtue to purge your
consciences, or satisfy your perplexed souls, than those repeated
sacrifices of old were. Whatsoever you can pitch upon besides this, it is
insufficient, and therefore you find a necessity of seeking some other
grace or qualification to appease your consciences, even as they had need
to multiply sacrifices. But now since this perfect propitiation is offered
up for our sins should not all these vain expiations of your works cease?
Truly, there is nothing can pacify heaven but this, and nothing can
appease thy conscience on earth but this too. If you find any accusation
against you consider Christ hath, by a sacrifice for sin, condemned sin in
his own flesh. The marks of the spear, of the nails, of the buffetings of
his flesh,—these are the tokens and pledges, that he encountered with the
wrath due to your sins, and so hath cut off all the right that sin hath
over you. If thou canst unfeignedly in the Lord’s sight say, that it is
thy soul’s desire to be delivered from sin as well as wrath, thou wouldst
gladly fly from condemnation, then come to him who hath condemned sin, by
suffering the condemnation of sin, that he might save those who desire to
fly from it to him.
Sermon XIV.
Verse 4.—“That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in
us.”
God having a great design to declare unto the world both his justice and
mercy towards men, he found out this mean most suitable and proportioned
unto it, which is here spoken of in the third verse,—to send his own Son
to bear the punishment of sin, that the righteousness of the law might be
freely and graciously fulfilled in sinners. And, indeed, it was not
imaginable by us, how he could declare both in the salvation of sinners.
He could not have found out a way to declare his righteousness and
holiness, which would not have obscured his mercy and grace, nor a way to
manifest his grace and mercy which would not have reflected upon his
holiness and justice, according to the letter of the law that was given
out as the rule of life. He that doth them shall live in them, and cursed
is every one that doeth them not, &c. What could we expect, if this be
fulfilled, as it would appear God’s truth and holiness require? Then we
are gone,—no place for mercy, if this be not fulfilled, that the mercy may
be showed in pardoning sin. Then the truth and faithfulness of God seem to
be impaired. This is the strait that all sinners would have been into, if
God had not found such an enlargement as this—how to show mercy without
wronging justice, and how to save sinners without impairing his
faithfulness. Truly, we may wonder, what was it that could straiten his
majesty so, that he must send his own Son, so beloved of him, and bruise
him, and hide his face from him, yea, and torment him, and not let the cup
pass from him for any entreaties. Might he not more easily have never
added such a commination to the law,—“thou shalt die,” or more easily
relaxed and repealed that sentence, and passed by the sinner without any
more, than exacted so heavy a punishment from one that was innocent? Was
it the satisfaction of his justice that straitened him, and put a
necessity of this upon him? But truly it seems it had been no more
contrary to righteousness to have passed over the sinner, without
satisfaction, than to require and take it of one who was not really
guilty. The truth is, it was not simply the indispensable necessity of
satisfying justice, that put him upon such a hard and unpleasant work, as
the bruising of his own Son, for no doubt, he might have as well dispensed
with all satisfaction, as with the personal satisfaction of the sinner.
But here the strait lay, and here was the urgency of the case, he had a
purpose to declare his justice, and therefore a satisfaction must be had
not simply to satisfy righteousness, but rather to declare his
righteousness, Rom. iii. 25. Now, indeed, to make these two shine together
in one work of the salvation of sinners, all the world could not have
found out the like of this—to dispense with personal satisfaction in the
sinner, which the rigour of the law required, and so to admit a sweet
moderation and relaxation, that the riches of his grace and mercy might be
manifested, and yet withal, to exact the same punishment of another
willingly coming in the sinner’s place, to the end that all sinners may
behold his righteousness and justice. And so this work of the redemption
of sinners hath these names of God published by himself, (Exod. xxxiv. 6,
7.) to Moses, engraven deeply upon it, mercy and goodness spelled out at
length in it,—for love was the rise of all, and love did run alongst in
all, yet so, as there is room to speak out his holiness, and
righteousness, and justice, not so much to affright sinners, as to make
his mercy the more amiable and wonderful.
I know not a more pressing ground of strong consolation, nor a firmer
bulwark of our confidence and salvation, than this conjunction of mercy
and justice in the business. There might have been always a secret
hink(174) of jealousy and suspicion in our minds, when God publisheth
mercy and forgiveness to us freely. O how shall the law be satisfied, and
the importunity of justice and faithfulness, that hath pronounced a
sentence of death upon us, answered! Shall not the righteous law be a
loser this way, if I be saved, and it not satisfied by obedience or
suffering! How hard would it be to persuade a soul of free pardon, that
sees such a severe sentence standing against it! But now there is no place
for doubting. All is contrived for the encouragement and happiness of poor
sinners, that we may come to him with full persuasion of his readiness and
inclinableness to pardon, since Jesus Christ hath taken the law and
justice of God off our head, and us off their hand, and since he hath
reckoned with them, for what is due by us and paid it without us,—then we
have a clear way, and ready access to pardon, and to believe his readiness
to pardon. And this is it which is holden out here,—Christ condemning sin
in the flesh, or punishing sin in his own flesh, giving a visible and
sensible representation of the justice and righteousness of God in
punishing sin, and that in his own flesh, offering up himself as the
condemned sinner, and hanging up to the view of all the world, as an
evident testimony of the justice and righteousness of God against sin, and
by this means cutting off the very strength of sin,—the law, by fulfilling
it. In Christ’s sufferings you may behold, as in a clear mirror, the
hatred and displeasure of God against sin, the righteousness of God in
punishing sin. Him hath God set forth to the world to be a propitiation,
to declare the righteousness of God. Rom. iii. 24, 25. In this crucified
Lord, you may behold the sensible image and the most lively demonstration
of holiness and righteousness. Christ’s flesh bare the marks of
both,—holiness in hating sin, righteousness in punishing it, and both in
his beloved and only begotten Son’s person,—in his flesh, and all for this
purpose, that the law might be no loser by our salvation, “that the
righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us,” &c.
This is that which Christ says, “I came not to destroy the law, but to
fulfil it,” Matt. v. 17, and which Paul seconds, “Is the law then made
void by faith? God forbid, it is rather established,” Rom. iii. 31. The
law and justice come better to their own, by our Cautioner than by us.
There is no such way conceivable, to satisfy them fully, as this, whether
you look to the commandment or the curse.
The commandment never got such satisfaction in any person, as in Christ’s,
he hath fulfilled it by obedience. “It becometh us” saith he “to fulfil
all righteousness,” (Matt. iii. 15.) both moral and ceremonial, so that
there was no guile found in his mouth,—he knew no sin, he was holy and
harmless. His Father’s will was his soul’s delight,—“I delight to do thy
will,” Ps. xl. 8. It was more to him than his necessary food, his meat and
drink. There was so absolute a correspondency between his will and God’s
will, and between his way and his will, that it was not possible that any
difference should fall between them. His obedience had more good in it (so
to speak) than Adam’s disobedience had evil in it, Rom. v. 18, 19. Adam’s
disobedience was but the sin of a finite creature, but Christ’s obedience
was the work of an infinite person. I think there was more real worth in
Christ’s obedience to the commands, than in all the united service and
obedience of men and angels. All the love, delight, fear, and obedience
flowing from these—take them in one bundle, as they will be extended and
multiplied to all eternity, there is something in Christ’s that elevates
it above all, and puts a higher price upon it. The transcendent dignity of
his person,—his own Son “made under the law,” (Gal. iv. 4.)—that is more
worth than if all men and angels had been made under it. It had been no
humiliation, but rather the exaltation of an angel, to be obedient to God.
That subordination to a law, is the highest top of the creature’s
advancement. But he was such a person, as his obedience was a humbling
himself. “He humbled himself, and became obedient, even to the death,”
Phil. ii. 8, and though he was the Son of God yet he stooped to learn
obedience, Heb. v. 8. Now indeed the commandment comes to it better,(175)
by this means, to have such a glorious person under it, than if it had
poor naughty us under it, and that is fulfilled by him, when otherwise it
would never have been done. I suppose that justice had exacted the
punishment of us. As we could never have ended suffering to all eternity,
so we would never have begun new obedience to the command to all eternity.
Thus, except Christ had taken it off us, and us off its hand, it would
never have been fulfilled, since it was first broken. Next, the curse of
the law could not get fuller satisfaction than in Christ. I suppose it had
fallen upon the sinner. There is not so much worth in the creatures
extremest sufferings, as to compensate the infinite wrongs done to the
holiness and righteousness of God. Therefore, what was wanting in the
intrinsic value of the creature’s suffering, behoved to be made up in the
infinite extent of it, and eternal continuance of it upon the creature.
Thus, there could never be a determined time assigned, in which the curse
was fulfilled, and in which justice could say,—hold, I have enough. It is
as if a man were owing an infinite debt, and he could get nothing to
defray it but poor petty sums, which being all conjoined, cannot amount to
any proportion of it. Therefore, since he cannot get one sum in value
equal to it, he must be eternally paying it in smalls, according to his
capacity. And so, because the utmost farthing cannot be won at, he can
never be released out of prison. But our Lord Jesus hath satisfied it to
the full. He was a more substantial debtor, and because of the infinite
dignity of his person, there was an intrinsic value upon his sufferings,
proportioned unto the infiniteness of man’s sin, so that he could pay all
the debt in a short time which a sinner could but have done to all
eternity. Now, you know, any man would rather choose such a cautioner,
that can solidly satisfy him in gross, and pay all the sum at once, than
such a principal, that because of his inability, cannot amount, to any
considerable satisfaction in many years. And even so it is with the law
and justice of God. They hold themselves better contented in Christ than
in us, in his being “made a curse, than the falling of the curse on us,”
Gal. iii. 13. And therefore God testifies it to poor sinners, “Deliver
them, I have found a ransom,” Job xxxiii. 24,—and that is the ransom which
Christ gave,—“his life—for many,” Matt. xx. 28.
You see then, how this conclusion follows, “that the righteousness of the
law might be fulfilled in us,” he having fulfilled it, and satisfied it so
fully, both by obedience to the commandment, and submission to the curse.
It is all one in God’s account, as if we had done it, because Christ was
surety in our stead, and a common person representing us, and therefore
his paying of the debt acquits us at the hand of justice, and whatsoever
he did to fulfil all righteousness, that is accounted ours, because we
were represented in him, and judicially one with him. And therefore, we
were condemned when he was condemned, we were dead when he died,—and so
the righteousness of the law, in exacting a due punishment for sin, was
fulfilled for us in him, and it is all one as if it had been personally in
us. And this is laid down as the foundation of that blessed embassy or
message of reconciliation to sinners, as that upon which God is in Christ
reconciling and beseeching us to be reconciled, (2 Cor. v. 19-21.)—Him who
knew no sin, hath he made sin for us, that we might be made the
righteousness of God in him. You see the blessed exchange that he hath
made with us,—he hath laid our sins on sinless Christ, and laid Christ’s
righteousness on sinful us. Christ took our sins on him, that he might
give us his righteousness, and by virtue of this transaction and
communication, as it was righteous with God to condemn sin in Christ’s
flesh, because our sin was upon him, so it is as just with him to impute
righteousness to us, because we were in him. And as the law made him a
curse, and exacted the punishment of him, it is as righteous with the Lord
to give us life and salvation, and to forgive sin, as John speaks, 1st
Epistle i. 9, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive
us our sins.”
Now consider this my beloved, for it is propounded unto you as the
greatest persuasive to move you to come to Jesus Christ,—there is such a
clear and plain way in him to salvation. If this do not move your hearts,
I know not what will. I do not expect that your troubles in this
world,—the frequent lashes of judgment, the impoverishing and exhausting
of you, the plucking away of those things you loved, the disquieting your
peace so often, that any of those things that have the image of wrath upon
them, can drive you to him, and make you forsake your way, when such a
motive as this doth not prevail with you. O what heart could stand against
the power of this persuasion, if it were but rightly apprehended! Who
would not willingly fly into this city of refuge, if they did but know
aright the avenger of blood that pursues them, and what safety is within?
You are always imagining vain satisfactions to the law of God. How great
weight doth your fancy impose upon your tears, your confessions, your
reformations! If you can attain any thing of this kind, that is it which
you give to satisfy justice, it is that wherewith you pretend to fulfil
the law. But if it could be so, wherefore should God have sent his Son to
condemn sin, and purchase righteousness by him? I beseech you, once know
and consider your estate, that you may open your hearts to this Redeemer,
that you may be willing to be stripped naked of all your imaginary
righteousness, to put on this which will satisfy the law fully. Will you
die in your sins, because you will not come to him to have life? Will you
rather be condemned with sin, than saved with Christ’s righteousness? And
truly, there is no other altar that will preserve you but this. Now, if
any, apprehending their own misery, be hardly pursued in their consciences
by the law of God, I beseech you come hither and behold it satisfied and
fulfilled. I beseech you in Christ’s stead to be reconciled unto God,—to
lay down all hostile affections, and come to him, because God is in Christ
reconciling the world, and not imputing their sins, because he hath
imputed them already to Christ, “him who knew no sin,” &c, and he is in
Christ, imputing his righteousness to sinners.
Sermon XV.
Verse 4.—“That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in
us,” &c.
“Think not,” saith our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, “that I am come to
destroy the law,—I am come to fulfil it,” Matt. v. 17. It was a needful
caveat, and a very timeous advertisement, because of the natural
misapprehensions in men’s minds of the gospel. When free forgiveness of
sins, and life everlasting, is preached in Jesus Christ, without our
works; when the mercy of God is proclaimed in its freedom and fulness, the
heart of man is subject to a woful misconceit of Christ, as if by these a
latitude were given, and a liberty proclaimed to men to live in sin. That
which is propounded as the encouragement of poor sinners to come to God,
and forsake their own wicked way, is miserably wrested upon a mistake, to
be an encouragement to revolt more and more. Righteousness and life, by
faith in a Saviour, without the works of the law, is holden out as the
grand persuasion of the gospel, to study obedience to the law. And yet
such is the perverseness of many hearts, that, either in opinion or
practice, they so carry themselves, as if there were an inconsistency
between Christ and the law, between free justification and
sanctification,—as if Christ had come to redeem us, not from sin, but to
sin. Now, to prevent this, “think not,” saith he, “that I am come to
destroy the law.” Do not fancy to yourselves a liberty to live in sin, and
an immunity from the obligation of a commandment, because I have purchased
an immunity and freedom from the curse. No, “I am come to fulfil it,”
rather, not only in mine own person, but in yours also. And to this
purpose Paul, Rom. iii. 31, “Do we then make void the law by faith?” It is
so natural to our rebellious hearts to desire to be free from the yoke of
obedience, and therefore we fancy such a notion of faith, as may not give
itself to working in love, as is active in nothing but imagination. The
apostle abominates this,—“God forbid,” he detests it, as impious and
sacrilegious; “yea, we establish it.” So then, all returns to this, one of
the great ends of Christ’s coming in the flesh, and one main intendment of
the gospel published in his name, is not merely to deliver us from wrath,
and redeem us from the curse, (Gal. iii. 13; 1 Thess. i. 10,) but also,
and that especially, to redeem us from all iniquity, that we might be a
people zealous of good works, (Tit. ii. 14); and to take away sin, and
“destroy the works of the devil,” 1 John iii. 5, 8. We spoke something
before noon, how Christ hath fulfilled the law, and established it in his
own person, by obedience and suffering,—neither of which ways it could be
so well contented by any other. But there is yet a third way that he
fulfils and establisheth it, and that is in our persons, “that the
righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the
flesh, but after the Spirit.” He hath obliged himself to fulfil it, not
only for believers, but in believers. Therefore the promises run thus, I
will write my law in their hearts, and cause them to walk in my statutes,
Ezek. xxxvi. 27; Jer. xxxi. 33. Not only I delight to do thy will, but I
will make them delight to do it also. And truly, in this respect, the law
is more fulfilled and established by Christ, than ever it could have been,
if man had been left to satisfy it alone. If we had reckoned alone with
the law, we had been taken up eternally with satisfying for the breaches
of it, so that there could be no access to obedience of the command, and
no acceptance either. A sinner must first satisfy the curse, for the fault
done, before ever he can be in a capacity to perform new obedience on the
terms of acceptation of it with God. Now the first would have taken up
eternity, so that there can be no place of entry to the second; therefore,
if Christ had not found out a way of free pardon of the sins that are
past, and assurance of forgiveness for the time to come, the commandments
of God would be wholly frustrated. “But there is forgiveness with thee,
that thou mayest be feared,” Psalm cxxx. 4. The word is also “worshipped.”
Truly, my beloved, this is the foundation of all religion,—free
forgiveness. There had been no religion, no worship of God, no obedience
to his commands throughout all eternity; there should never have been any
fear, any love, any delight in God, any reverence and subjection to him,
if he had not forgiveness,—a treasure of mercies with him to bestow first
upon sinners. And this makes access to stand and serve in his sight. The
cloud of our transgressions is so thick and dark, that there never could
have been any communion with God, if he had not found out the way to
scatter and blot it out, for his own name’s sake. Religion, then, must
begin at this great and inestimable free gift of imputed righteousness,—of
accounting us what we are not in ourselves, because found so in another.
It begins at remission of sins. But that is not all. This hath a further
end, and truly it is but introductive to a further end; that so a soul may
be made partaker of the gift of holiness within, and have that image of
God renewed in holiness and righteousness. I would have you once persuaded
to begin at this, to receive the free gift of another’s righteousness,
(Rom. v. 17,) and another’s obedience, to find your own nakedness and
loathsomeness without this covering, and how short all other coverings of
your own works are. O that we could once persuade you to renounce
yourselves, to embrace this righteousness! Then it were easy to prevail
with you to renounce sin, to put on holiness. I say, first, you must
renounce yourselves, as undone in all you do, as loathsome in all that
ever you loved, and come under the wide and broad skirt of Christ’s
righteousness, which he did weave upon the earth, for to hide our
nakedness. You must once have the righteousness of the law fulfilled
perfectly by another, before you can have access to fulfil one jot of it
yourselves, or any thing you do be accepted. And, till this foundation be
laid, you do but beat the air in religion, you build on the sand.
Now, if once you were brought this length, to renounce all confidence in
yourselves, and to flee into Christ’s righteousness, then it were easy to
lead you a step further,—to renounce the love of your most beloved sins.
And the more lovely that Christ’s righteousness is in your eyes, the more
beauty would holiness and obedience have in them also unto you. Then you
would labour to walk after the guidance of the Spirit.
I would have the impression of this deep in your hearts,—that the gospel
is not a doctrine of licentiousness, but a doctrine of the purest liberty,
of the completest redemption. Many think it liberty to serve their lusts;
and it is indeed as bonds and cords to restrain them. There is no man but
would be content to be saved from the wrath to come; and therefore many
snatch at such sentences of the gospel, and take them lightly, without
consideration of what further is in it. But truly if this were all, it
were not complete redemption, if there were not redemption from sin too,
which is the most absolute tyrant in the world. I think a true Christian
would account the service of sin bondage, though it were left at his own
option. He that commits sin, is the servant of sin; therefore the freedom
that Christ purchaseth, is freedom from sin, John viii. 36. I will say
more. We are delivered from wrath, that so we may be redeemed from sin. We
have the righteousness of Christ imputed to us, that so the image of
Christ may be renewed within us; this is the very end of that. I am sure
any that discerns aright, knows sin to have infinitely more evil in it
than punishment hath; nay, punishment is only evil, as it hath relation to
sin. There is a beauty of justice and righteousness in punishment, but
there is nothing in sin but deformity and opposition to his holiness. It
is purely evil, and most purely hated of God. And if there were no more to
persuade you that sin is infinitely more evil than pain, consider how our
pain and punishment was really transferred upon the blessed Son of God,
and that all this did not make him a whit the worse. But he was not
capable of the real infusion of our sin. That would have made Christ as
miserable, wretched, and impotent, as any of us, that would have disabled
him so far from helping us, that he would have had as much need of a
mediator as we,—all which were highly blasphemous to imagine. Look then
how much distance and difference there was between suffering, dying
Christ, and wretched men living in sin. None can say but he is infinitely
better, even while in pain, nor(176) the highest prince in pleasure, so
much disproportion there is between sin and pain; so much is the one worse
than the other. Do not think then that Christ died to purchase an
indulgence for you to live in sin. Truly that were to take away the lesser
evil, that the greater may remain; that were to deliver from one misery,
that we may be more involved in that which is the greatest of all
miseries. Nay, certainly if Christ be a Redeemer, he must redeem us
from our most potent and accursed enemy,—sin; he must take away the root,
the fountain of all misery,—sin; that which conceived in its womb all
pains, sorrows, sicknesses, death and hell. You have the great end of
redemption expressed, Luke i. 74, 75, “That we, being delivered from all
our enemies, might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness.”
It was that for which he made man at first, and it is that for which he
hath made him again, “created unto good works,” Eph. ii. 10. It was a
higher design certainly, for which the Son of God became partaker of our
nature, than only to deliver us from hell. No doubt it was to make us
partakers of the divine nature, (2 Pet. i. 4;) and this is the very nature
of God,—holiness and goodness. As sin is the very nature and image of the
devil, so the great breach of the creation was the breaking off of this
image of God. That was the heaviest fall of man, from the top of divine
excellency, into the bottom of devilish deformity. Now it is this that is
the great plot for which Christ came into the world,—to make up that
breach, to restore man to that dignity again; so that redemption from
wrath is but a step to ascend upon, to that which is truly God’s design,
and man’s dignity,—conformity with God in holiness and righteousness.
O that you could be persuaded of this,—that Christ’s business in the world
was not to bring a notion of an imaginary righteousness only, by mere
imputation, but to bring forth a solid and real righteousness in our
hearts, by the operation of his Spirit! I say, imputation, or accounting
righteous, is but a mere imagination, if this lively operation do not
follow. He came not only to spread his garment over our nakedness and
deformity, but really and effectually to be a physician to save our souls,
to cure all our inward distempers. The gospel is not only a doctrine of a
righteousness without us, but of a righteousness both without, for, and
within us too;—“that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in
us,” &c. Christ without, happiness itself without, cannot make us happy,
till they come in within us, and take up a dwelling in our souls.
Therefore I declare unto the most part of you who pretend to expect
salvation by Jesus Christ, that you are yet in your sins, and as yet you
have no fellowship in this redemption. Do you think to walk after the
course of the world, and the lusts of the flesh,—to wallow in those common
pollutions and uncleannesses among men, swearing, lying, contention,
railing, wrath, malice, envy, drunkenness, uncleanness, and such like, and
yet be in Christ Jesus? Do not deceive yourselves, “God is not mocked.” He
that is in Christ is a new creature. His endeavour and study, his
affection and desire, is toward a new walk after the Spirit. Are not most
of you carnal, all flesh,—the flesh gives laws, and you obey them? Are not
your immortal souls enslaved to base lusts, to the base love of the world?
Are they not prone to prostitute themselves to the service of your fleshly
and brutish part? Why do you then imagine, that you are in Christ Jesus,
partakers of his righteousness? Consider it in time, that so you may be
indeed, what you now are not, but pretend to be. It is the opinion that
you are in Christ already that keeps you out of him.
But, on the other hand again, there is nothing here to discourage a poor
soul, that thinks subjection to sin the greatest slavery, who would as
gladly be redeemed from the power of it as from hell. I say to such, whose
soul’s desire it is to be purged from all that “filthiness of the flesh
and spirit,” and whose continued aim is to walk in obedience,—though you
have many failings, and often fall and defile yourselves again, yet this
comfort is holden out here unto you,—there is no condemnation to you;
Jesus Christ hath condemned sin to save you, he hath fulfilled all
righteousness for you; and therefore lay you the weight of your
acceptation and consolation upon what he hath done himself, and not upon
what is but yet a-doing in you. Do you not find, I say, that the grace of
Jesus Christ, revealed in the gospel, is that which melts your hearts
most? Is not the goodness of the Lord that which persuades you most? And
do not these make you loathe yourselves and love holiness? Encourage
yourselves therefore in him. Hold fast the righteousness that is without
you by faith, and certainly you shall find that righteousness and holiness
shall in due time be fulfilled within you. I know no soul so wretched, but
it may lay hold on that perfect righteousness of Christ’s, and go under
the covering of it, and take heart from it, if so be the desire and
affection of their soul be directed to a further end, to have his Spirit
dwelling within them, for the renewing of their heart “in righteousness
and true holiness.” I do not say, that this is a condition which you must
perform before you venture to lay hold on Christ’s righteousness without
you; nowise, but rather I would declare unto you the very nature of faith
in Christ, that it seeks delivery from wrath in him, not simply and
lastly, but that a way may be made for redemption from sin, and that there
may be a participation of that divine nature, which is most in its eye.
Sermon XVI.
Verse 4, 5.—“Who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.
For they that are after the flesh,” &c.
If there were nothing else to engage our hearts to religion, I think this
might do it, that there is so much reason in it. Truly it is the most
rational thing in the world, except some revealed mysteries of faith,
which are far above reason, but not contrary to it. There is nothing
besides in it, but that which is the purest reason. Even that part of it
which is most difficult to man, that which concerns the moderating of his
lusts and affections, and the regulating his walk and carriage;—there is
nothing that Christianity requires in these matters, but that which may be
persuaded by most convincing reasons, to be most suitable and comely for
man, as man. You may take it in the subject in hand. There is nothing
sounds harsher to men, and seems harder in religion, than such a victory
over the flesh, such an abstractedness from sensual and earthly things.
And yet, truly, there is nothing in the world, that more adorns and
beautifies a man, nothing so elevates him above beasts as this, insomuch
that many natural spirits, void of this saving light, have notwithstanding
been taken with somewhat of the beauty of it, and so far enamoured with
the love of it, as to account all the world mad and brutish that followed
these lower things, and enslaved themselves unto them. I take the two
fountains of all the pollutions, disorders, and defilements among men, to
be the inconsideration and ignorance of God, that eternal Spirit and
Fountain-being, and the ignorance of our own souls, those immortal spirits
within us, which are derived from that Fountain-spirit. This is the misery
of men, that scarce do they once seriously reflect upon their own spirits,
or think what immortal souls are within them, and what affinity these have
to the Fountain of all spirits. Therefore do men basely throw down
themselves to the satisfaction of the lusts of the flesh. Now, indeed,
this is the very beginning of Christianity, to reduce men from these baser
thoughts and employments, to the consideration of their immortal souls
within. And, O how will a Christian blush to behold himself in that light,
to see the very image of a beast upon his nature, to look on that slavery
and bondage of his far better part to the worst and brutish part in
him,—his flesh!
If a man did wisely consider the constitution of his nature, from its
first divine original, and what a thing the soul is, which is truly and
more properly himself, than his body; what excellency is in the soul
beyond the body, and so, what pre-eminency it advanceth a man unto beyond
a beast,—he could not but account religion the very ornament and
perfection of his nature. Reason will say, that the spirit, should rule
and command the body, that, flesh is but the minister and servant of the
spirit, that there is nothing the proper and peculiar good of man, but
that which adorns and rectifies the spirit; that all those external things
which men’s senses are carried after with so much violence, do not better
a man, as man, but are common to beasts; that in these things, man’s
happiness as man, doth not all consist, but in some higher and more
transcending good, which beasts are not capable of, and which may satisfy
the immortal spirit, and not perish in the using, but live with it. All
these things, the very natural frame and constitution of man doth
convincingly persuade. Now then, may a soul think within itself, O how far
am I departed from my original! How far degenerated from that noble and
royal dignity, that God by the stamp of his image once put upon me! How is
it that I am become a slave and drudge to that baser and brutish part, the
flesh? I would have you retire into your own hearts, and ask such things
at them. Man being in honour, and understanding not, is even like the
beasts that perish. Truly we are become like beasts, because we consider
not that we are men, and so advanced by creation far above beasts. The not
reflecting on the immortal, spiritual nature of our souls, hath
transformed us, in manner, into the nature of beasts, perishing beasts.
Christianity is the very transforming of a beast into a man, as sin was
the deforming of man into a beast. This is the proper effect of
Christianity,—to restore humanity, to elevate it, and purify it from all
those defilements and corruptions that were engrossed and incorporated
into it, by the state of subjection to the flesh. And therefore the
apostle delineates the nature of it unto us, and draws the difference wide
between the natural man and a Christian.
The natures of things are dark and hidden in themselves but they come to
be known to us by their operations and acting. Their inclinations and
instincts are known this way. Grace is truly a very spiritual thing, and
the nature of it lies high. Yet as Christ could not be hid in the house,
neither can grace be hid in the heart,—it will be known by its working.
Christ can be better hid in a home than in the heart, because, when he is
in a heart, he is engaged to restore that heart and soul to its native
dignity and pre-eminency over the flesh, and this cannot but cause much
disturbance in the man, for a season. To change governments, to cast out
usurpers and to restore the lawful and righteous owner to the possession
of his right, cannot be done secretly and easily. It will shake the very
foundations of a kingdom to accomplish it. So it is here—the restitution
of the soul to the possession of its right and dominion over the
flesh,—the casting out of that tyrannous and base usurper, the flesh,
cannot be done, except all the man know it, feel it, and in a manner be
pained with it. Now, the nature of Christianity doth lay itself open to us
in these two especially, in what it minds and savours and how it causeth
to walk. Life is known especially by affection and motion. A feeling,
thinking, savouring power, is a living power, so a moving, walking power
is a living power, and these are here. The Christian is shortly described
by his nature. He is one after the Spirit not after the flesh, and by the
proper characteristical operations of that nature, first, minding or
savouring “the things of the Spirit,” which comprehends his inward
thoughts, affections, intentions, and cogitations. All his inward senses
are exercised about such objects. And then he is one walking “after the
Spirit,” his motions are in a course of obedience, proceeding from that
inward relish or taste that he hath of the things of God. It is not
without very good reason, that the name of a Christian is thus
expressed,—one “after the Spirit.” That is his character that expresses
his nature unto us. Whether ye look to the original of Christianity, or
the prime subject of it, or the chief end of it, it deserves to be called
by this name. The original of it is very high, as high as that eternal
Spirit, as high as the God of the spirits of all flesh. Things are like
their original, and some way participate of the nature of their causes.
“That which is born of the Spirit, is spirit,” John iii. 6. That which is
born of God, who is a Spirit, must be spirit, 1 John v. 1. How royal a
descent is that! How doth it nobilitate a man’s nature! Truly, all other
degrees of birth among men are vain imaginary things, that have no worth
at all, but in the fancies of men. They put no real excellency in men. But
this is only true nobility. This alone doth extract a man _de fæce vulgi_
out of the dregs of the multitude. There is no intrinsic difference
between bloods, or natures, but what this makes, this divine birth, this
second birth. All other differences are but in opinion, this is in
reality. It puts the image of that blessed Spirit upon a man. Truly, such
a creature is not begotten in the womb of any natural cause, of my human
persuasion, or enticing words of man’s wisdom, of any external mercy or
judgment. No instruction, no persuasion, no allurement, nor affrightment
can make you Christians in the Spirit, till the Spirit blow when he
pleaseth, and create you again. It must come from above—that power that
ran set your hearts aright, and make them to look straight above.
Christ Jesus came down from heaven unto the earth, and took on our flesh,
that so the almighty Spirit might come down to transform our spirits, and
lift them up from the earth to the heaven. We cast the seed into the
ground of men’s hearts, (and alas! it gets entry but in few souls, it is
scattered rather on the highway side, and cannot reach into the arable
ground of the heart,) but it can do nothing without the influence of
heaven, except the Spirit beget you again by that immortal seed of the
word. Therefore we would cease our wondering, that all the means of God’s
word and works do not beget more true Christians. I do rather wonder that
any of Adam’s wretched posterity should be begotten again, and advanced to
so high a dignity, to be born of the Spirit. O that Christians would mind
their original, and wonder at it, and study to be like it! If you believe
and consider that your descent is from that uncreated Spirit, how powerful
might that be to conform you more and more to him, and to transform more
and more of your flesh into spirit! There is nothing will raise up the
spirits of the children of princes more, than to know their royal birth
and dignity. How should the consideration of this make your spirits
suitable to your state or fortunes, as we use to say? You would labour to
raise them up to that height of your original, and to walk worthy of that
high calling. O that we could learn that instruction from it which Paul
gives, 1 Cor i. 30, 31, “But of him are ye in Christ,” therefore let him
that glorieth, “glory in the Lord.” Truly, a soul possessed with the
meditation of this royal descent from God, could not possibly glory in
those inglorious baser things, in which men glory, and could not contain
or restrain gloriation and boasting in him. The glory of many is their
shame, because it is their sin, of which they should be ashamed. But
suppose that in which men glory be not shame in itself, as the lawful
things of this present world, yet certainly it is a great shame for a
Christian to glory in them, or esteem the better of himself for them. If
this were minded always,—that we are of God, born of God, what power do
you think temptations, or solicitations to sin, would have over us! “He
that is born of God sinneth not,—he keepeth himself, and that wicked one
toucheth him not,” 1 John v. 18, 19. Truly, this consideration imprinted
in the heart, would elevate us above all these baser persuasions of the
flesh. This would make sin loathsome and despicable, as the greatest
indignity we could do to our own natures. The strength and advantage of
sin, is to make us forget what we are, whom we have relation unto,—to
drink us drunk with the puddle of the world, or then with our own
jealousies and suspicions, that we may forget our birth and state, and so
be enticed to any thing. If you would have wherewith to beat back all the
fiery darts of the devil, take the shield of this faith and persuasion,
how would it silence temptations? “Shall I, who am a ruler flee?” saith
Nehemiah. Shall I, who am born of the Spirit; shall I, who am of God in
Christ, abase myself to such unworthy and base things? Shall I dishonour
my Father, and disgrace myself?
Then Christianity’s chief residence, its royal seat, is in the spirit of a
man, and so he is one after the Spirit. Be ye “renewed in the spirit of
your mind,” Eph. iv. 23. As it is of a high descent, so it must have the
highest and most honourable lodging in all the creation, that is, the
spirit of a man. Without this there is no room else fit for it, and
suitable to it, in this lower world. “My son, give me thine heart,” saith
Wisdom, Prov. xxiii. 26. It cares for nothing besides, if it get not the
heart, the inmost cabinet of the imperial city of this isle of man, for
“out of it are the issues of life, that flow into all the members.” Do not
think that grace will lodge one night in your outward man, that you can
put on Christianity upon your countenance or conversation without. Except
you admit it into your souls, it can have no suitable entertainment there
alone. It is of a spiritual nature, and it must have a spirit to abide in.
Every thing is best preserved and entertained by things suitable to its
nature, such do incorporate together, and imbosom one with another,
whereas things keep a greater distance with things different in nature. A
flame will die out among cold stones, without oily matter. This heavenly
fire that is descended into the world, can have nothing earthly to feed
upon. It must die out, except it get into the immortal spirit, and then
furnish, so to speak, perpetual nourishment to it, till at length all the
spirit be set on flame, and changed, as it were, into that heavenly
substance, to mount up above, from whence it came. Do not think, my
beloved, to superinduce true religion upon your outside, and within to be
as rotten sepulchres. You must either open your hearts to Christ, or else
he will not abide with you. Such a noble guest will not stay in the
suburbs of the city, if you take him not into the palace; and truly the
palace of our hearts is too unworthy for such a worthy guest, it hath been
so defiled by sin. How vile is it? But if you would let him enter, he
would wash it and cleanse it for himself.
Will you know then the character of a Christian? He is one much within. He
hath retired into his own spirit, to know how it goes with it; and he
finds all so disordered and confused, all so unsettled, that, he gets so
much business to do at home, he gets no leisure to come much abroad again.
It is the misery of men, that they are wholly without, carried into
external things only; and this is the very character of a beast, that it
cannot reflect inwardly upon itself, but is wholly spent on things that
are presented to the outward senses. There is nothing in which men are
more assimilated to beasts than this, that we do not speak in ourselves,
or return into our own bosoms, but are wholly occupied about the things
that are without us. And thus it fares with us, as with the man that is
busy in all other men’s matters, and never thinks of his own. His estate
must needs ruin; all his affairs must be out of course. Truly, while we
are immersed and drowned in external things, our souls are perishing, our
inward estate is washing away. All our own affairs, that can only and
properly be called ours, are disordered and jumbled. Therefore,
Christianity doth first of all recall the wandering and vain spirit of man
into itself, as that exhortation is, Psal. iv. 9, to “commune” with his
“own heart,”—to make a diligent search of his own affairs; and, O how doth
he find all out of course; as a garden neglected, all overgrown,—as a
house not inhabited all dropping through,—in a word, wholly ruinous,
through intolerable negligence! It was the first turn of the prodigal to
return to himself, “he came to himself,” Luke xv. 17. Truly, sin is not
only an aversion from God, but it is an estrangement from ourselves, from
our souls, from our own happiness. It is a madness that takes away the use
of reason and consideration of our own selves. But grace is a conversion,
not only to God, but to ourselves. It bringeth a man home to his heart,
maketh him sober again who was beside himself. Hence that phrase, 1 Kings
viii. 47. “When they shall turn to their own hearts, and return.” It is
the most laborious vanity, or the vainest labour, to compass heaven and
earth,—to be so busied abroad,—to know other things, and then to know and
consider nothing of that which of all things most nearly concerns
us,—ourselves. “What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world,
and lose his soul?” for that is himself. And what shall it profit to know
all, and not know his soul, to be everywhere but where he ought to be.
Well, a Christian is one called home from vain impertinent diversions, one
that is occupied most about his soul and spirit, how to have all the
disorders he finds in himself ordered, all those distempers cured, all
those defilements washed. This is the business he is about in this world,
to wash his heart from wickedness, (Jer. iv. 14,)—to cleanse even vain
thoughts, and shut up, from that ordinary repair,(177) his own heart. He
is about the enclosing it to be a garden to the well-beloved, to bring
forth sweet fruits. He is about the renewing of it, the adorning it with
the new man, against that day of our Bridegroom’s appearing, and bringing
him up to celebrate the marriage. Though he be in the flesh, yet he is
most taken up with his spirit, how to have it restored to that primitive
beauty and excellency, the image of God in it; how to be clothed with
humility, and to put on the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit,—that he
accounts his beauty; how to rule his own spirit,—that he accounts only
true fortitude; and thinks it a greater vassalage and victory to overcome
himself than his enemy, and esteems it the noblest revenge, not to be like
to other men that wrong him. He is occupied about the highest gain and
advantage, viz. to save his spirit and soul; and accounts all loss to
this,—to bring Jesus Christ into the heart. That is the jewel he digs for,
and esteems all dung in comparison of it.
If you be Christians after the Spirit, no doubt you are busied this way
about your spirits. For others, they are busied about the flesh,—to make
provision for its lusts; and there needs no other mark to know them by.
Alas! poor souls, to this you have never yet adverted that you have
spirits, immortal beings within you, which must survive this dust, this
corruptible flesh; what will ye do, when you cannot have flesh to care
for,—when your spirits can have nothing to be carried forth into, but must
eternally dwell within the bosom of an evil conscience, and be tormented
with that worm, the bitter remembrance of the neglect of your spirits, and
utter estrangement from them, while you were in the body? Then you must be
confined within your own evil consciences, and be imprisoned there for
ever, because, while yet there was time and season, you were always
abroad, and everywhere, but within your own hearts and consciences,—and is
not that a just recompense?
Then again, as Christianity descends from the Father of spirits, into the
spirit of a man, to lodge there for a while, it doth at length bring up
the spirit of a man, and unites it to that eternal Spirit; and so, as the
original was high and divine, the end is high too. It issues out of that
Fountain, and returns with the heart of man, to imbosom itself in that
again. And truly, this is the great excellency of true religion above all
those things you are busied about, that it elevates the spirit of a man to
God; that it will never rest till it have carried it above to the
Fountain-spirit. Our spirits are sparks and chips, to speak so with
reverence, of that divine Being; but now they are wholly immersed and sunk
into the flesh, and into the earth by sin, till grace come down and renew
them, and extract them out of that dunghill, and purify them. And then
they are, as in a state of violence, always striving to mount upwards,
till they be embodied, or rather inspirited, so to speak, in that original
Spirit, till they be wholly united to their own element, the divine
nature. You know Christ’s prayer, John xvii. “That they may be one, as we
are one; I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one,”
ver. 22, 23. Then spirits have attained their perfection, then will they
“rest from their labours,” when they are one with him. This is the only
centre of spirits, in which they can rest immoveable. You find all the
desires and affections of the saints are as so many breathings upward,
pantings after union with him, and longings to be intimately present with
the Lord. Therefore a Christian is one after the Spirit, groaning to be
all spirit, to have the earthly house of this tabernacle dissolved, and to
be clothed upon with that house from heaven. He knows with Paul, that he
is not at home, though he be at home in the body, because the body is that
which separates from the Lord, which partition-wall he would willingly
have taken down, that his spirit might be at home, present with the Lord,
2 Cor. v. 1, &c. “Who knoweth (saith Solomon) the spirit of a man that
ascends upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the
earth?” Eccles. iii. 21. Truly, the natural motion of man’s spirit should
be to ascend upward to God who gave it. When this frail and broken vessel
of the body is dissolved into the elements, the higher and purer nature
that lodged within it should fly upwards to heaven; even as the spirit of
the beasts, being but the prime and finer part of the body, not different
in nature from the earth, naturally falls down to the earth with the body,
and is dissolved into the elements. But I think, the consideration of that
woful disorder, that sin hath brought into the world, that all things in
man are so degenerated and become brutish, both his affections and his
conversation, that carnal and sensual lusts have the whole dominion over
men; I say, the serious and earnest view of this might make a man suspect
and call in question, whether or not there be any difference between men
and beasts; whether or not there may be any spirit in the one of a higher
nature than in the other? Truly, it would half persuade, that there is no
immortal spirit in man, else how could he be such a beast all his time,
“serving diverse lusts?” Can it be possible, might one think, that there
is any spirit in men, that can ascend to heaven, when there is no motion
thither to be observed among men? I beseech you, consider this,—the spirit
must either ascend or descend when it goes out of the body, as now in
affection and endeavour it ascends or descends while it is in the body.
There is an indispensable connection between these. Whatsoever the spirit
aims at, which way soever it turns and directs its flight, thither it
shall be constrained to go eternally. Do you think, my beloved, while you
are in the body, to bow down yourselves to the earth, to descend into the
service of the flesh all your time, never once seriously to rise up in the
consideration of eternity, or lift up your heads above temporal and
earthly things, and yet in the close to ascend unto heaven? No, no; do not
deceive yourselves; you must go forward. This life and eternity make one
straight line, either of ascent or descent, of happiness or misery, and
since you have bowed down always, while in the body, there is no rising up
after it. Forward you must go, and that is downward to that element, into
which you transformed your spirits, that is, the earth, or below the
earth—to hell. Your spirits have most affinity with these, and down they
must go, as a stone to the earth. But if you would desire to have your
spirits ascending up to heaven, when they are let out of this prison, the
body, take heed which way they turn. Bend and strive while here in the
body. If your strugglings be to be upward to God, if you have discovered
that blessedness which is in him, and if this be the predominant of your
spirit, that carries it upwards in desires and endeavour, and turns it off
the base study of satisfying the flesh and the base love of the world, if
thy soul be mounting aloft on these wings of holy desires of a better life
than can be found in any thing below, certainly the motion of thy spirit
will be in a straight line upward. When thou leavest thy dust to the
earth, angels wait to carry that spirit to that bosom of Christ where it
longed and liked most to be. But devils do attend the souls of most part
of men, to thrust them down below the earth, because they did still bend
down to the earth.
Sermon XVII.
Verse 5.—“For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of
the flesh,”, &c.
Though sin hath taken up the principal and inmost cabinet of the heart of
man—though it hath fixed its imperial throne in the spirit of man, and
makes use of all the powers and faculties in the soul to accomplish its
accursed desires and fulfil its boundless lusts, yet it is not without
good reason expressed in scripture, ordinarily under the name of “flesh,”
and a “body of death,” and men dead in sins, are said to be yet in the
flesh. The reason is, partly because this was the rise of man’s first
ruin, or the chiefest ingredient in his first sin,—his hearkening to the
suggestions of his flesh against the clear light and knowledge of his
spirit. The apple was beautiful to look on and sweet to the taste, and
this engaged man. Thus the voluntary debasement and subjection of the
spirit—which was breathed in of God—unto the service of that dust which
God had appointed to serve it hath turned into a necessary slavery, so
that the flesh being put in the throne cannot be cast out. And this is the
righteous judgment of God upon man, that he that would not serve so good
and so high a Lord, should be made a drudge and slave to the very dregs of
the creation. Partly again, because the flesh hath in it the seeds of the
most part of these evil fruits, which abound in the world. The most part
of our corruptions have either their rise or their increase from the
flesh, the most part of the evils of men are either conceived in the flesh
or brought forth by it, by the ministry and help of our degenerate
spirits. And truly this is it that makes our returning to God so hard and
difficult a work, because we are in the flesh, which is like stubble,
disposed to conceive flame upon any sparkle of a temptation, there are so
many dispositions and inclinations in the body since our fall, that are as
powerful to carry us to excess and inordinateness in affection or
conversation, as the natural instincts of beasts do drive them on to their
own proper operations. You know the flesh is oftentimes the greatest
impediment that the spirit hath, because of its lumpishness and earthly
quality. How willing would the spirit be, how nimble and active in the
ways of obedience, if it were not retarded, dulled, and clogged with the
heavy lump of our flesh! “The spirit indeed is willing but the flesh is
weak,” saith Christ, Matt. xxvi. 41. Truly I think the great remissness,
negligence, weakness, fainting of Christians, in their race of
Christianity, arise ordinarily from this weight that is carried about with
them, that it must be some extraordinary impulse of a higher Spirit to
drive us on without wearying. And because of this indisposition of the
flesh, we are not able to bear much of God’s presence in this life, (it
would certainly confound mortality, if so much were let out of it as is in
heaven) no more than a weak eye can endure to behold the sun in its
brightness. And then the flesh, as it is the greatest retardment in good,
it is the greatest incitement to evil, it is a bosom enemy, that betrays
us to Satan, it is near us and connatural to us. And this is the great
advantage Satan hath of a Christian, he hath a friend within every
Christian, that betrays him often. You know the most part of temptations
from without could have no such force or strength against us if there were
not some predisposition in the flesh, some seeds of that evil within, if
they were not presented to some suitableness to our senses, and they being
once engaged on Satan’s side, they easily draw the whole man with them,
under a false colour and pretence of friendship, therefore they are said
to “war against the soul,” 1 Pet. ii. 11, and they are said “easily” to
“beset us,” Heb. xii. 1. Truly it is no wonder that the enemy storm our
city, when the outworks yea, the very ports of the city, are possessed by
traitors. No wonder Satan approach near the walls with his temptations,
when our senses, our fleshly part, are so apt to receive him, and ready to
entertain all objects without difference, that are suitable to affect
them.
You see then how much power the flesh hath in man so that it is no wonder
that every natural man hath this denomination, one “after the flesh,” one
carnal from the predominating part, though the worst part. Every man by
nature till a higher birth come may be called all flesh, all fashioned and
composed of the flesh, and after the flesh, even his spirit and mind being
fleshly and earthly, sunk into the flesh, and transformed into a brutish
quality or nature. Now the great purpose of the gospel is, to bring along
a deliverer unto your spirits, for the releasing and unfettering of them
from the chains of fleshly lusts. This is the very work of Christianity,
to give liberty to the captive souls of men “and the opening of the prison
to them that are bound,” Isa. lxi. 1. The souls of men are chained with
their own fleshly lusts, and if at any time they can break these grosser
chains, as some finer spirits have escaped out of the vilest dungeon of
the flesh, and cast off these heavier chains that bind the most part of
men, yet wholly escape they cannot. There be higher and lower rooms of
this prison, there are some more gross, some more subtile cords and bands
of the flesh, and whatsoever it be that holds a man bound or in whatsoever
house he be imprisoned, it is not much matter, since really he is bound,
and his liberty restrained. If a chain of gold bind as fast as a chain of
iron, there is no real difference, except that mockery is added unto it,
when a man is detained in a golden prison with golden chains. Though some
men, I say, escape the grosser pollutions of the flesh, yet they are
fettered within some narrow, scant, and but imaginary good things, they
cannot go without the compass of those. Every man is confined by nature
within the circle of his own narrow bosom or if he expatiate into the
field of the world, yet how narrow, how limited are all created objects,
for the infinite desires of the soul, whether it tend to the enjoyment of
other creatures, or to the possession of some imaginary excellency in a
man’s self. How straitened are they! How imprisoned in all that compass!
There is no true liberty can be found there. Though some may be disengaged
from baser lusts and the common vain employments of men, yet far they
cannot go, they do but engage more with themselves the love and estimation
of themselves. Without that compass they cannot possibly go, whether from
another principle, or to another end. And, O how little bounds is within
any created breast for the immortal spirit, that is so vast and
expatiating in its desires to dwell in!
But here is the perfect redemption that is in Jesus Christ. When he comes
into the soul, he unfetters and releases it, not only of the grosser lusts
of the flesh, but even of those subtile invisible bands of self love, self
seeking, of all scant, narrow, and particular objects, and sets it at
liberty to expatiate in that universal good, the infinite fulness of God,
and grace which is in Christ Jesus, and hence a Christian is called one
“after the Spirit” that is, whose spirit is rid and delivered from that
natural bondage and slavery to the creatures, and is espoused, at least in
affection and endeavour, to the all-sufficient and self sufficient God.
We told you that this new nature of a Christian shows itself in affection
and motion, in minding and walking, both are signs of life, and the proper
actions of it. As the natural man is easily known by what he minds and
savours, and what way he walks, so is the spiritual man. Minding or
savouring comprehends, no doubt, all the inward acts of the soul, all the
imaginations, cogitations, thoughts, affections, desires and purposes of
the soul. To express it shortly, there is a concurrence of these two,
cogitation and affection, the understanding and the will, in this
business. The natural man knoweth not the things of the Spirit, so he
cannot taste or relish them, since he doth not know them, 1 Cor. ii. 14.
How can they believe on him whom they have not heard? But far more, how
can men love and desire that which they do not know? Though it be hard to
convince some that they know not God, nor the things of the Spirit,
because they have some form of knowledge, and seem to understand, and can
discourse on religion, yet I wonder that the most part of men, whose
ignorance is written in their foreheads with such palpable characters,
should have so much difficulty to take with this challenge. I am sure,
many that persuade themselves of heaven, are yet shut up in that dungeon
of natural blindness and darkness of mind, and that so gross and thick
darkness that it is not possible to make them conceive any notion of
spiritual things, the common twilight of nature is almost extinguished,
and little or nothing increased by their education in the visible church.
How can you prize and esteem Jesus Christ, of whom you know nothing but
the bare name? How can you savour heaven, when you have never admitted one
serious thought of the life to come? O that you could be persuaded, that
the grace of God is inconsistent with such gross ignorance, as is in the
generality light of you! Truly grace is a light shining in the soul, that
opens the eyes to see that that surrounds us in the gospel. But will you
consider, beloved, how ready you are to receive other things of no moment
how your memories can retain them, and your understandings receive other
purposes very perplexed and laborious, but for the knowledge of your sin
and misery, or of that blessed remedy showed in the gospel we cannot make
you capable of a few questions about them, and if you learn the words by
heart, (as you use to speak,) yet, alas! the matter and thing itself is
not in the heart or mind, you have nothing but words, as appears. If we
ask about the same matter in other words and terms, it is as dark and new
to you, as if you had never heard it. I beseech you consider, if you do
not then mind the things of the flesh most when you are not only most
capable to know these things that concern this life, but most ready to
entertain such thoughts. You have no difficulty to mind the world whole
weeks and years, but you can never find leisure or time to mind the life
to come, and yet vainly you say, you mind it always. I beseech you, how do
you mind God, and the things of God, when, if you will but recollect your
thoughts, and gather the sum of them, you will not find one serious
advised thought of him or his matters in a whole week! I profess I wonder
how so many can enforce upon themselves a persuasion that God is always in
their heart. I think it is the height of delusion! I am sure he is not in
one of ten thousand thoughts, that travel, walk, lodge, and dwell in the
souls of men, and yet they will needs bear upon themselves that they
always mind him. I am sure most of you cannot say, that ever you shut the
doors of your hearts upon other vain objects, that you might retire to
secret meditation on God, or conference with him, and I am as sure, that
many men have God oftener in their mouths, by oaths and blasphemies, and
irreverent speaking, and taking his holy name in vain, than in their
minds, prayers or praises, or any holy meditations of him. Are you not as
unwilling to fix your minds upon any sad solemn thoughts of God’s justice,
of hell, of heaven, of sin or misery, of death, as boys, whose heads are
full of play, are loath to go to their books? Doth not your practice in
this speak with these wicked men, who say, (Job xxi. 14.) “Depart from us,
we desire not the knowledge of thy ways?” How constrained are all your
thoughts of religion! They are entertained as those whom you would not
desire to come again. But how unconstrained, how free are all other
thoughts! Our minds can rove whole days about vanity, about fancies,
dreams, nothings; but you neither like to admit nor retain the knowledge
of God in your mind, Rom. i. 28. Do you not entertain any serious weighty
thoughts of religion, that by occasion may enter as fire-brands, as hot
coals in your bosom? How glad are you to get any diversion to other
things! How willing to shun them, or cast them out! But if it be any
temporal thing, any thing relating to this flesh, your thoughts come
freely off, are steady and fixed as long as you please, your minds can
travel through all the ends of the earth, to bring in some fancy of gain
or advantage, or to steal by precious time, and that without wearying. Now
all these things considered, my beloved, are you not carnal? I speak to
the most of you, are you not those who are born of the flesh, since you
mind nothing seriously, resolutely, constantly and willingly, but the
things of the flesh, and the things of this life? O it is no light matter
to be born of the flesh; if you continue so, you are ordained for
corruption, for death; “to be carnally minded is death,” ver. 6, of this
chapter.
But I am persuaded better things of some of you, that the true light of
God hath shined into your hearts, and revealed more excellent things unto
you than these perishing fleshly things, viz. heavenly, substantial, and
eternal things in the gospel, which you account only worthy of the fixed
and continued meditation of your spirits. I am sure you perceive another
beauty and excellency in these things than the world doth, because the
Spirit hath revealed them unto you. It is true that your minds are yet
much darkened in their apprehension of spiritual things, they are not so
willing to receive them, nor so ready to retain them as you desire, they
are very unsettled and unsteady in the meditations of spiritual things,
and there are innumerable thoughts of other things that pass through your
hearts like common inns, uncontrolled at their pleasure; all this is true,
but I am sure it is the grief of your souls that your hearts are not so
fixed and established as the excellency of these spiritual things require.
I know it will be the aim and real endeavour of any spiritual heart, to be
shutting up all the entries and doors of the mind, that vain thoughts
enter not; yet enter they will, there are so many porches to enter in at,
and our narrow spirits cannot watch at all. Every sense will let in
objects, and imagination itself will be active in framing them, and
presenting them: but yet the endeavour of a Christian will be, not to let
them lodge long within (Jer. iv. 14.). If they come in unawares, he will
labour to make a diversion to a better purpose, and so still it holds
good, that the current and course of a Christian’s thoughts and
cogitations are upon the “things of the Spirit,”—how to get his own heart
washed and cleansed,—how to be more holy and conformed to Christ,—how to
be at peace with God, and keep that peace unbroken,—how to walk in
obedience to God, and in duty towards men,—how to forsake himself, and
withal to deny himself in all these; I say, his most serious and solemn
thoughts are about these things, his resolved and advised thoughts run
most on this strain, though it be true that, whether he will or not, other
vain and impertinent, or not so concerning thoughts, will pass more
lightly, and too frequently through his heart.
The other thing in which this spiritual life doth appear, is the current
of the affections, or that relish and taste of the sweetness of the things
of the Spirit, flowing from the apprehension of them in the mind. When the
light is discovered indeed, (and O it is a pleasant thing for the eye to
behold it, as Solomon speaks,) then the Spirit hath found an object
suitable to its nature, and so it relisheth and delighteth in it:
therefore the word is not simple minding, or thinking, but savouring,
thinking with affection upon them, tasting and feeding upon the knowledge
of them, it is a minding of them with care and delight, with earnestness
(φρονειν) “O taste and see how good the Lord is,” Psal. xxxiv. 8. Some
things indeed cannot be known but by some sense. You cannot make a blind
man apprehend what light is, till he see it. A deaf man cannot form a
notion of sounds in his mind, except he once heard them; neither can a man
understand the sweetness of honey, but by tasting it. Truly spiritual
things are of that nature, there is some hidden virtue and excellency in
them, which is not obvious to every man that hath the bare knowledge of
the letter, there is a spirit and life in them, that cannot be transmitted
into your ears with the sound of words, or infused into ink and paper; it
is only the inspiration of the Almighty can inspire this sensible
perception, and real taste of spiritual things. Some powders do not smell
till they are beaten, truly till these truths be well powdered and beaten
small by meditation, they cannot smell so fragrantly to the spirit. As
meats do not nourish till they be chewed and digested, so spiritual things
do not relish to a soul, nor can they truly feed the soul, till they be
chewed and digested into the heart by serious and earnest consideration.
This is that which makes these same truths to be someway not the same;
these very principles of religion received and confessed by all, to be
lively in one, and dead in another. It is the living consideration of
living truth, the application of truth to the heart, that makes it lively
in one, whereas others keep it only beside them in a corner of their
minds, or in a book, in the corner of the house. The same meat is laid
to you all, the most part look on it, others contemplate it, and exercise
only their understandings about it, but there are some who taste it, and
find sweetness in it, who digest it by meditation and solemn avocation of
their hearts from the things of the world, and therefore some are fed,
some are starved.
Need we to enlarge much upon this subject? Is it not too palpable that
many who fill up our churches are in the flesh, because they do mind and
savour only the things of the flesh, and not of the Spirit? Will you
seriously search your hearts, ask what relishes most with them? Can you
say, that it is the kingdom of God or the righteousness thereof? Or is it
not rather those other things of food and raiment, and such like, that
have no extent beyond this narrow span of time? I am persuaded the hearts
of many taste no sweetness in religion, else they would fix more upon it,
and pursue it more earnestly. Are not the things of another world, the
great things of the gospel, counted all strange things, (Hos. viii. 12,)
as things that you have not much to do with? Do you not let the officers
of Jesus Christ, all the sweet invitations of the gospel, pass by as
strangers, and as if ye were unconcerned in them? What taste have they
more than the white of an egg? How unsavoury a discourse or thought to a
carnal heart is it, to speak of subduing the lusts of the flesh, of dying
to the world, of the world to come? Who find their hearts inwardly stirred
upon the proposal of Jesus Christ? But if any matter of petty gain were
proffered, O how would men listen with both their ears! How beautiful in
the eyes of the covetous mind is any gain and advantage! The sound of
money is sweeter to him than this blessed sound of peace and salvation.
How sweet is pleasure to the voluptuous! What suitableness and conveniency
is apprehended in these perishing things! But how little moment or weight
is conceived and believed to be in things eternal? O how substantial do
things visible seem to men, and how trifling do other things invisible
appear! But for you whose eyes are opened, to you Christ is precious; to
you the things of the Spirit are beautiful, and all your grief is, that
you cannot affect them according to their worth, or love them according to
their beauty. I say, some there are who do see a substance and subsistence
only in things not seen (Heb. xi. 1), and for things that are seen and
visible in this world, they do account them shadows only in comparison of
things invisible. The world apprehends no realities, but in what they
see, but a Christian apprehends no solid reality in that he sees, but only
in that he sees not, and therefore, as in his judgment he looks upon the
one as a shadow, the other as a substance, so he labours to proportion and
conform his affection to a suitable entertainment of them, to give a
shadow of show of affection to the things of this life, but the marrow and
substance of his heart to the things invisible of another life. Thus the
apostle, 1 Cor. vii. 29: “Rejoicing, as if we rejoiced not, enjoying, as
if we possessed not, using, as if we used not,” half acts for half
objects. If we give our whole spirits, the strength of our souls and minds
to them, we are as foolish as he that strikes with all his strength at the
air, or a feather. There is no solidity or reality in these things, able
to bottom much estimation or affection, only mind them and use them as in
the by, as in passing through towards your country.
Sermon XVIII.
Verses 5, 6.—“For they that are after the flesh do mind,” &c. “For
to be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is
life and peace.”
There are many differences among men in this world, that, as to outward
appearance, are great and wide, and indeed they are so eagerly pursued,
and seriously minded by men, as if they were great and momentous. You see
what a strife and contention there is among men, how to be extracted out
of the dregs of the multitude, and set a little higher in dignity and
degree than they. How do men affect to be honourable above the base! How
do they seek to be rich, and hate poverty! These differences of poor and
rich, high and low, noble and ignoble, learned and unlearned, the thoughts
of men are wholly taken up with, but there is one great difference, that
is most in God’s eye, and is both substantial and eternal, and so
infinitely surpasseth all these differences that the minds of men most run
out upon; and it is here, the great difference between flesh and spirit,
and them that are after the flesh, and them that are after the Spirit.
This is of all other most considerable, because widest and durablest. I
say, it is the widest of all, for all others put no great difference
between men as men, they do reach the peculiar excellency of a man, that
is, the true, and proper, good of his spiritual and immortal part, they
are such as befall alike to good and bad, and so cannot have either much
good or much evil in them. I have seen folly set in great dignity, and
princes walking on foot, Eccles. x. 6, 7. Then certainly such titles of
honour and dignity, such places of eminency erected above the multitude,
have little or nothing worth the spirit of a man in them, seeing a fool, a
wicked man, is as capable of them, as a wise man, or a man of a princely
spirit, and so of all others, they do not elevate a man, as a man, above
others. A poor, unlearned, mean man may have more real excellency in him,
than a rich, learned, and great person. But this draws a substantial and
vast difference indeed, such as is between flesh and spirit, such as is
between men and beasts. You know what pre-eminency a man hath over a
beast. There is no such wide distance among the sons of men as between the
lowest and meanest man and the chiefest beast. “There is a spirit in man,”
saith Elihu, Job xxxii. 8,—an immortal, eternal substance, of a far higher
nature and comprehension. You know what excellency is in the spirit beyond
the flesh, such as is in heaven beyond the earth, for the one is breathed
from heaven, and the other is taken out of the dust of the earth; the one
is corruptible, yea, corruption itself, the other incorruptible. How swift
and nimble are the motions of the spirit, from the one end of heaven to
the other! How can it compass the earth in a moment! Do but look and see
what a huge difference is between a beautiful living body, and the same
when it is a dead carcase, rotten and corrupted. It is the spirit dwelling
within that makes the odds, that makes it active, beautiful, and comely,
but in the removal of the spirit, it becometh a piece of the most defiled
and loathsome dust in the world.
Now, I say, such a vast and wide difference there is between a true
Christian and a natural man, even taking him in with all his common
endowments and excellencies, the one is a man, the other a beast, the one
is after the flesh, the other is after the Spirit. It is the ordinary
compellation of the Holy Ghost, “Man being in honour, and understanding
not, is like the beasts that perish,” Psal. xlix. 20, and xciv. 8,
“Understand, ye brutish among the people,” &c., and Psal xcii. 6, “The
brutish man understands not this,” and Eccles. iii. 18, “that they
themselves may know that they are but beasts.” Therefore you find the Lord
often turning to beasts, to insensible creatures, thereby to reprove the
folly and madness of men, Isa. i. 2, and Jer. viii. 7. Man hath two parts
in him, by which he hath affinity to the two most distant natures, he
stands in the middle between angels and beasts. In his spirit he riseth up
to an angelic dignity, and in his body he falls down to a brutish
condition. Now, which of these hath the pre-eminency, _that_ he is. If the
spirit be indeed elevated above all sensual and earthly things, to the
life of angels, that is, to communion with God, then a man is one after
the spirit, an angel incarnate, an angel dwelling in flesh, but if his
spirit throw itself down to the service of the flesh, minding and
savouring only things sensual and visible, then indeed a man puts off
humanity, and hath associated himself to beasts, to be as one of them. And
indeed, a man made thus like a beast, is worse than a beast, because he
ought to be far better. It is no disparagement to a beast to mind only the
flesh, but it is the greatest abasement of a man, that which draws him
down from that higher station God hath set him into, to the lowest
station, that of beasts; and truly a Nebuchadnezzar among beasts is the
greatest beast of all, far more brutish than any beast. Now such is every
man by nature,—“that which is born of the flesh is flesh.” Every man as he
comes out of the womb, is degenerated and fallen down into this brutish
estate, to mind, to savour, to relish nothing but what relates to this
fleshly or temporal being. The utmost sphere and comprehension of man, is
now of no larger extent than this visible world and this present life,—“he
is blind and seeth not afar off,” 2 Pet. i. 9. Truly, such is every man by
nature, whereas the proper native sphere of the spirit’s motion and
comprehension, is as large as its endurance, that is, as long as eternity,
and as broad as to reach the infiniteness of God, the God of all spirits.
Now, through the slavery and bondage of men’s spirits to their flesh, it
is contracted into as narrow bounds as this poor life in the flesh. He
that ought to look beyond time as far as eternity, and hath an immortal
spirit given for that end, is now half blind, the eye of the mind is so
overclouded with lusts and passions that it cannot see far off, not so far
as to the morrow after death, not so far as to the entry of eternity. And
truly, if you compare the context, you will find, that whosoever doth not
give all diligence to add to faith, virtue, to virtue, knowledge, to
knowledge, temperance, to temperance, patience and to patience godliness,
&c., he that is not exercised and employed about this study, how to adorn
his spirit with these graces, how to have a victory over himself and the
world, and in respect of these, accounts all things beside
indifferent,—such a man is blind, and seeth not far off, he hath not
gotten a sight of eternity, he hath not taken up that everlasting
endurance, else he could not spend his time upon provision for the lusts
of the flesh, but be behoved to lay such a good foundation for the time to
come as is here mentioned. If he saw afar off, he could not but make
acquaintance with those courtiers of heaven, which will minister an
entrance into that everlasting kingdom. But truly, while this is not your
study, you have no purpose for heaven, you see nothing but what is just
before your eye, and almost toucheth it, and so you savour and mind only
what you see.
Is not this then a wide difference between the children of this world, and
the children of God? Is it not very substantial? All others are
circumstantial in respect of this, this only puts a real difference in
that which is best in men, viz. their spirits. The excellency of nature is
known by their affections and motions, so are these here, the spiritual
man savours spiritual things, the carnal man carnal things, everything
sympathizes with that which is like itself, and is ready to incorporate
into it, things are nourished and preserved by things like themselves. You
see the swine embraces the dunghill, that stink is only a savoury smell to
them, because it is suitable to their nature. But a man hath a more
excellent taste and smell, and he savours finer and sweeter things. Truly
it cannot choose but that it must be a nature more swinish or brutish than
a swine, that can relish and savour such filthy abominable works of the
flesh as abound amongst some of you. “The works of the flesh are
manifest,” Gal. v. 19. And indeed they are manifest upon you, acted in the
very day time, out facing the very light of the gospel. You may read them,
and see if they be not too manifest in you. Now, what a base nature, what
abominable and brutish spirits must possess men, that they apprehend a
sweetness and fragrancy in these corrupt and stinking works of the old
man! O how base a scent is it, to smell and savour nothing but this
present world, and satisfaction to your senses! Truly your scent and
smell, your relish and taste, argues your base, and degenerate, and
brutish natures, that you are on the worse side of this division,—“after
the flesh.” But alas! it is not possible to persuade you that there is no
sweetness, no fragrancy, nothing but corruption and rottenness, such as
comes out of sepulchres opened, in all these works of the flesh, till once
a new spirit be put in you, and your natures changed, no more than you can
by eloquence persuade a sick man, whose palate is possessed with a
vitiated bitter humour, that such things as are suitable to his vitiated
taste, are indeed bitter, or make a swine to believe that the dunghill is
stinking and unpleasant. Truly it is as impossible to make the multitude
of men to apprehend, to relish or savour any bitterness or loathsomeness
in the ways and courses they follow, or any sweetness and fragrancy in the
ways of godliness, till once your tastes be rectified, your spirits be
transformed and renewed.
And indeed, when once the spirit is renewed, and dispossessed of that
malignant humour of corruption, and fleshly affection, that did present
all things, contrary to what they are, then it is like a healthful and
wholesome palate, that tastes all things as they are, and finds bitter,
bitter, and sweet, sweet, or like a sound eye, that beholds things just as
they are, both in colour, quantity, and distance, then the soul savours
the sweet smell of the fruits of the Spirit, ver 22: “Love, joy, peace,
long-suffering, meekness, temperance,” &c. These are fragrant and sweet to
the soul, and as a sweet perfume, both to the person that hath them, and
to others round about him, and to God also. These cast a savour that
allures a soul to seek them, and being possessed of them, they cast a
sweet smell abroad to all that are round about, and even as high as
heaven. A soul that hath these planted in it, and growing out of it, is as
a garden enclosed to God. These fruits are both pleasant and sweet to the
soul that eats them, and as the pleasantness of the apple allured man to
taste it and sin, so the beauty and sweetness of these fruits of the
Spirit draw the spirit of a man after them. He hath found the savour, and
seen the beauty, and this allures him to taste them, and then he invites
the well beloved to come and taste also, to eat of these fruits with him.
We might instance this in many things. A Christian relishes more sweetness
in temperance, in beating down his body, and bringing it into subjection,
in abstaining from fleshly lusts, than a carnal man tastes in the most
exquisite pleasures that the world can afford. A Christian savours a
sweetness in meekness and long suffering, he hath more delight in
forgiving, and forbearing, and praying for them that wrong him, than a
natural man hath in the accomplishing of the most greedy desires of
revenge. O what beauty hath gentleness, goodness, and patience, in his
eye! What sweetness is in the love of God to his taste! How ravishing is
the joy of the Holy Ghost! How contenting that peace that passeth
understanding! These are things of the Spirit that he minds and savours.
Know, Christians, that it is to this ye are called, to mind these things
most, and to seek them most. Beware lest the deceitfulness of sin entice
you, through the treacherous and deceitful lusts that are yet living in
your members. If you indeed mind these things, and, out of the
apprehension of the beauty and savour of the sweetness and smell of the
fragrancy of them, would be content to quit all your corrupt lusts, for to
be possessed of them, then you are on that blessed and happy side of this
great and fundamental division of men, you have indeed the privilege(178)
of all others who are not renewed. Whatever be your condition in the
world, you are of the Spirit, and this is better than to be rich, wise,
great, and honourable. God hath not given you such things as the world go
mad after, but envy them not, he hath given you better things, more real
and substantial things, that make you far better and more excellent.
But then, this difference, as it is the widest, so it is the durablest, as
it is substantial here, so it is perpetual hereafter. When all the other
differences between men shall be abolished, this alone shall remain, and
therefore you have it in the next verse, “To be carnally minded is death,
but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.” This division that is
begun here, shall grow wider for all eternity. There shall be a greater
difference after this life, and a more sensible separation. Death and
life, eternal death and eternal life, are the two sides of this
difference, as it shall shortly be stated. When all other degrees and
distances of men shall be blotted out and buried in eternal oblivion,
there shall no vestige or mark remain, of either wisdom, or riches, or
honour, or such like, but all mankind shall be, as to these outward
things, levelled and equalized, this one unseen and neglected difference
in the world shall appear and shine in that day when the Lord maketh up
his jewels, “then he will discern between the righteous and the wicked,
between him that feareth God, and him that feareth him not,” Mal. iii. 18.
The carnal and spiritual man have opposite affections and motions. The
spirit of the one is on a journey or walk upward, “after the Spirit,” and
the spirit of the other is on a walk downward, towards the flesh, and the
further they go, the further distant they are. The one shall be taken up
to the company of the spirits of just men made perfect, and to the
fellowship of angels, the other shall be thrown down into the fellowship
and society of devils. And truly it is no wonder it fall so low, for all
its motions in the body were downward, to the fulfilling of the lusts of
the flesh. Thus you see the difference will grow wider and more sensible
than it is yet between the godly and ungodly, in this world it doth not so
evidently appear as it will do afterward. As two men, that leave one
another, and have their faces on contrary arts,(179) at the beginning the
distance and difference is not so great and so sensible, but wait a
little, and the further they go, the farther they are distant, and the
wider their separation is. Even so, when a Christian begins to break off
his way from the common course of the world it doth not appear to be so
different from it as to convince himself and others; but if his face be
towards Jerusalem above, and his heart thitherward, certainly he will be
daily moving further from the world, till the distance be sensible both to
himself and others; he will be more and more transformed and renewed, till
at length all be changed. No wonder then, that these two cannot meet
together in the end of their course, whose course was so opposite. Though
wicked men will desire to “die the death of the righteous,” yet it is no
more possible they can meet in the end, than hell and heaven can reconcile
together, because they walk to two contrary points.
Sermon XIX.
Verse 6.—“For to be carnally minded is death; but to be
spiritually minded is life and peace.”
It is true, this time is short, and so short that scarce can similitudes
or comparisons be had to shadow it out unto us. It is a dream, a moment, a
vapour, a flood, a flower, and whatsoever can be more fading or perishing;
and therefore it is not in itself very considerable, yet in another
respect it is of all things the most precious, and worthy of the deepest
attention and most serious consideration; and that is, because it is
linked unto eternity; and there is an indissolvable knot between them,
that no power or art can break or loose. The beginning of eternity is
continually united to the end of time; and you know all the infinite
extension of eternity is uniform, it admits of no change in it from better
to worse, or worse to better; and therefore the beginning of our eternity,
whether it be happiness or misery, is but one perpetuated and eternized
moment, so to speak. Seeing then we are in the body, and sent unto the
world for this end, that we may pass through into an unchangeable eternal
estate; truly, of all things it is most concerning and weighty, what way
we choose to this journey’s end. Seeing the time is short, in which we
have to walk, and it is uncertain too, we ought, as the apostle Peter
speaks, to “give all diligence;” as long as the day remains, we should
drive the harder, lest that eternal night overtake us. The shortness and
uncertainty of time should constrain us to take the present opportunity,
and not to let it slip over as we do; seeing it is not at all in our hand,
either what is past, or what is to come, the one cannot be recalled, the
other is not in our power to call and bring forward, therefore the present
moment that God hath given us, should be catched, held on, and redeemed,
as the apostle speaks, Eph. v. 16. We should buy it at the dearest rate of
pains and expenses, from all those vain, impertinent, and trifling
diversions that take it up, that we may employ it as it becomes suitable
to eternity that is posting on. And then, as the shortness of it makes it
the more precious and considerable, in regard of the end of it,—eternity;
as the scantiness of a thing increases the rate of it, so that same
consideration should make all worldly things, that are confined either in
their being or use, within it, to be inconsiderable, as Paul, (1 Cor. vii.
29-31), shows. Seeing the time is short, it remaineth, that we should
rejoice, as not rejoicing; weep, as not weeping; buy, as if we possessed
not; use the world, as not abusing it. Seeing all its worth is to be
esteemed from the end of it, eternity, never ending; then certainly
whatsoever in time doth not reach that end, and hath no connection with
it, we should give it but such entertainment, as a passing bird, that is
pleasant to the eye, gets of a beholder, while it is in its flight. The
shortness of the day should make us double our diligence, and push on the
harder in our walk or race, that so we may come in time to our place of
rest; and that same should make the passenger give an overly(180) and
passing look to all things that are by the way, and which he must of
necessity leave behind him. Seeing these things, then, are so important,
let us draw our hearts together to consider what the Lord speaks to us in
this word; for in it you have two ways and two ends, opposite and contrary
ways and walks, and as contrary ends; the ways are, walking “after the
flesh,” and walking “after the Spirit;” the ends to which they lead, are
death and life. We spoke something of the ways, and the wide difference
that is between them, what excellency is in the one beyond the other; but
truly it is hard to persuade to leave off your accustomed ways and walks,
because your inward sense and the inclination of your hearts are wholly
perverted and corrupted by nature. You know the moving faculty is
subordinate in its operations unto the knowing, feeling, and apprehending
faculties: the locomotive power is given for a subsidiary and help to the
apprehensive and appetitive powers, because things are convenient and
disconvenient, good or evil, to the nature of the living creature, without
it; and it could not by mere knowledge, or desire, or hatred of things,
either come into possession of them, or eschew them. Therefore God hath
given them a faculty of moving themselves to the prosecution and
attainment of any apprehended good, or to the eschewing and aversion of
any conceived evil. Thus, when beasts savour or smell that food which is
fit for them, their appetite stirs them up to motion after it to obtain
it. Now, I say, if this inward sense be corrupted, then things that are
destructive will be conceived good, because they are suitable to that
corrupt humour or quality that possesses the senses; and thus all the
motion and walk will be disordered. The truth is, my beloved, our spirits
and minds are infected with a poisonable humour, fleshly passions and
lusts are predominant naturally; and, as in them that are in a fever,
their organs being distempered with a bitter unsavoury humour, the
pleasantest things seem unsavoury, because not suitable to that
predominant humour, even so it is with you by nature. That which puts all
upon motion is out of course, since the first distemper of man. Your
spirits and minds are fleshly and carnal; they have a strong and deep
impression of all the lusts that are in the body, and are accordingly
affected; and therefore you cannot fitly judge what is good or evil for
you, but according to these, (Isa. v. 20,)—you must call evil good, and
good evil; bitter sweet, and sweet bitter, because you are already
prepossessed thus. And therefore the ways of the flesh, those paths that
lead to destruction, you cannot but look on them as pleasant, because they
suit and please your corrupted sense or spirit; and so this disordered
savour or smell of some fragrant perfume in the ways of the flesh, puts
you upon walking in these ways; and being thus possessed and engaged, you
cannot but stop your ears to all contrary persuasions. You think it
against your sense and reason, to tell you that these are loathsome and
unsavoury, and that the other ways of wisdom and spirit are pleasantness
and peace. I say, you cannot believe this, till your hearts and spirits
lie purged, and your taste be pure and uncorrupted. It is certainly upon
this ground that our Saviour puts such characters on the way to heaven and
hell, to life and death. The one is strait and narrow, and few walk in it;
the other broad and easy, and many walk in it, Matt. vii. 13. Certainly,
it is not the way in itself simply, that admits of such a motion, to speak
properly, as the thing is; the way to life, by the guiding of the Spirit,
is easiest, plainest, shortest, and broadest. It hath all the properties
of a good way, none so pleasant and plain;—how sweet and pleasant sights
all the way! It is an alley of delight,—the way of his commandments; it
wants not accommodation in it to refresh the traveller. The most
delightful company is here; the Father and the Son, who sought no other
company from all eternity, but were abundantly satisfied and rejoiced in
one another. This fellowship the Christian hath to solace himself with,
and he is admitted to be partaker of that joy. There is nothing that doth
disburden the soul so of care and anxiety, nothing doth rid a man of so
many perplexities and troubles, as this way. But the way of sin in itself
is most laborious, most difficult. It hath infinite by-ways that it leads
a man into, and he must turn and return, and run in a circle all the day,
all his time, to satisfy the infinite lusts and insatiable desires of sin.
O how painful and laborious is it to fulfil the lusts of the flesh! How
much service doth it impose! How serious attention! What perplexing cares
and tormenting thoughts! How many sorrows and griefs are in every step of
this way! Do you not perceive what drudges and slaves sin makes you,—how
much labour you have to satisfy your lusts? And you are always to begin,
as near that which you seek in the end of your years, as in the beginning.
How thorny, how miry is the way of covetousness! Are you not always out of
one thorn into another, and cut asunder, or pierced through with many
sorrows? 1 Tim. vi. 10; Matt. xiii. 22. Is that a pleasant and easy way,
I pray you, that makes all your sorrow and your travail grief, and suffers
not your heart to take rest in the night? Eccl. ii. 22, 23. What pains of
body! What plotting of mind! What labour and vexation of both must a
sinner have as his constant attendance in this way! The way is intricate,
deep, unpassable, that leads to that satisfaction you desire to your
lusts. Your desires are impotent and impatient, the means to carry you on
are weak and lame, nowise accommodated or fit for such a journey, and this
puts you always, as it were, on the rack, tormented between the impatience
of your lusts, and the impotency of means, and impossibility to fulfil
them. Desires and disappointments, hopes and fears, divide your souls
between them. Such is the way after the flesh, an endless labyrinth of
woes and miseries, of pains and cares, ever while here.
But these ways receive such names from the common opinion and apprehension
of men, because of our flesh, which is predominant. The way after the
flesh being suitable to it, though in itself infinitely more toilsome,
seems easy and plain, but the way after the Spirit seems strait, narrow,
toilsome, and laborious. Though there be infinitely more room in the way
to life, because it leads to that immense universal good, it expatiates
towards the All fulness of God, yet to the flesh how narrow and strait is
it, because it cannot admit of these inordinate lusts, that have swelled
so immeasurably towards narrow and scanty things! The true latitude of the
way of the flesh is not great, for it is all enclosed within poor, lean,
narrow, created objects, but because the imagination of men supplies what
is wanting really, and fancies an infinite or boundless extent of goodness
in these things, therefore the sinner walks easily, without straitening to
his flesh,—it is not pinched in this way of fleshly lusts. But, alas! the
spirit is wofully straitened, fettered, and imprisoned, though it be not
sensibly bound.
What is the reason, then, that so many walk in the way to death but
because their flesh finds no straitening, no pressure in it? It is an easy
way to their natures, because suitable to the corruption that is in them,
therefore men walk on without consideration of what follows. It is like a
descent or going down a hill, and so easy to our flesh. On the other hand,
the way of life, after the Spirit, is an ascent upward, and it is very
difficult to our earthly and lumpish flesh. Our spirits by communion with
and subjection to the flesh, are made of an earthly quality, near the
element of the flesh, and so they bow naturally downward, but if once they
were purified and purged, and unfettered by the spirit of God and restored
to their native purity, they would more easily and willingly move upward,
as you see the flame doth, and till this be done in you, we cannot expect
that you will willingly and pleasantly walk in these pleasant walks after
the Spirit; your walk will never be free and unconstrained in the paths of
godliness. You may, from some external motives and impulses, move upward
for a season, in some particular duties of religion, as a stone cast up,
but as that impression is not from an inward principle so it will not be
constant and durable, but you will fall down to your old bias in other
things, and move quite contrary, when the external impression of fear or
favour, of custom or education, or such like, wears out. But the true
Christian hath a spirit within him, the root of the matter in him; this
carries him upward in the ways of obedience, after the motions and
directions of God’s Spirit. At the beginning, indeed, it is strait and
uneasy to his flesh, but the difficulty is overcome if once you begin
well, the beginning (as you used to say) is the half of the whole. Truly
to be well entered is half progress; afterward the bulksome and burdensome
lusts of the flesh are stript off, at least in a greater measure, and then
the spirit moves easily and willingly; this walk becomes a recreation,
that at first was a labour. Now delight and desire are as wings to mount
the soul aloft. Now it is the good pleasure of the soul to walk to all
well pleasing. Indeed the way of this world is dirty and filthy, and
therefore a Christian had need to watch continually, and to gird up his
loins, that his thoughts and affections hang not down to the earth, else
they will take up much filth, and cannot but clog and burden the spirit,
and make it drive heavily and slowly, as Pharaoh did his chariots when the
wheels were off. We had need to fly aloft above the ground, and not to
come down too low near it, thinking withal to double out our journey, for
we shall find, that because of the remnants of flesh within us, that this
world hath a magnetical attractive virtue to draw us down to it, if we be
within the sphere of its activity. It is not good coming near fire with
flax, we should endeavour to keep our hearts at much distance, and
disengage them from our lower consolations. This world is like the
pestiferous lake of Sodom, that kills all that fly over it, and makes them
fall down into it.(181) If we fly low upon the surface of it, we cannot
think but that the spiritual life will be much extinguished. But to
prevent this we should take our flight straight upward after the Spirit,
(for that is the proper motion of the more pure and spiritual part of this
world), and give no rest till we be out of the reach of that infection,
till we be fully escaped the pollutions of the world.
But if you cannot be persuaded to come off this way, that seems so
pleasant to your flesh, that way which is the very course of the world,
(for these are joined, Eph. ii. 2), then, I beseech you, stand still, and
consider whither it will lead, do but stop a little, and bethink
yourselves sadly and seriously whither this will take you, where it shall
end. And truly that is dreadful, the end of it is death, a never ending
death. I am sure, if you were walking by the way, and one came and told
you gravely and seriously that that way is full of dangerous pits, that
there are many robbers in it waiting to cut your throat, you would count
the admonition worthy of so much notice as to halt and consider what to
do, but now, when the Lord himself, that deserves infinite more respect
and credit than men, gives you warning once, and often, day after day
repeats this admonition to you, sends out many ambassadors to call you
off, makes this word to sound daily in your ears, “Oh! why will you die?”
“Such ways lead down to the chambers of death and hell,” “to be
carnally-minded” in the issue “is death,” whatsoever you may promise to
yourselves, I say, when he makes a voice to accompany us in all our
walkings, this is not the way that leads to life, why do you not think it
worthy of so much consideration as once to stop and sist your progress
till you examine what will come of it? Are we so credulous to men, and
shall not we believe God, who is truth itself, who affirms it so
constantly, and obtests us so earnestly? Are we so wise and prudent in
lesser things, and shall we be mad, self-willed, and refractory in the
greatest things that concern us eternally? Oh! unbelief is that which will
condemn the world, the unbelief of this one thing, that the walking after,
and minding of the flesh is mortal and deadly. Though all men confess with
their tongues this to be a truth, yet it is not really believed, the deep
inconsideration and slight apprehension of this truth, makes men boldly to
walk, and violently to run on, to perdition. Did you indeed believe that
eternal misery is before you at the end of this way, and would you be so
cruel to yourselves as to walk in it for any allurement that is in it? Did
you really believe that there is a precipice into utter darkness and
everlasting death at the end of this alley, would the pleasure and
sweetness of it be able to infatuate you and besot you so far as to lead
you on into it, like an ox to the slaughter, and a fool to the correction
of the stocks? It is strange, indeed, though you neither will believe that
death is the end of these things, nor yet can you be persuaded that you do
not believe it. There is a twofold delusion that possesses the hearts of
men; one is, a dream and fancy of escaping death though they live in sin;
another is, a dream and fancy that they do believe that death is the wages
of sin; we might wonder how they consist together if we did not find it by
so many experiences. Your way proves that you do not believe it, that
death is the end of it, and then your words evidence that you do not
believe that you are unbelievers of that. O! how desperate is the
wickedness, and how great is the deceitfulness, of the heart! The false
prophet that is in every man’s bosom, deceives him that it may destroy
him. As Satan is a liar and a murderer, and murders by lying, so the heart
of man is a self murderer and a self destroyer, and that is done by lying
and deceiving. There is some lie in every sin, but there is this gross,
black, fundamental lie at the bottom of all sin,—a conceit of immunity and
freedom from death and hell, a strong imagination of escaping danger, even
though such a way be chosen and walked into as of its own nature
inevitably leads to destruction. And there is something of this bloody
murdering flattery even in the hearts of Christians, therefore, this
apostle gives us an antidote against it, and labours often to purge it
out, by stirring up that knowledge they have received. “Know ye not that
the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God?” 1 Cor. vi. 9. Be
not deceived, God is not mocked, for what a man soweth, that shall he
reap, he that soweth to the flesh shall reap corruption &c., Gal. vi. 7,
8. O that you might listen to this word, to this watchword given you and
stop your course, at least for a season, to think what shall be the latter
end! Know you not that such shall not inherit the kingdom? Know you not
that the way to heaven lies upward? Know you not that your way lies
downward towards the flesh and the earth? Are you so far demented(182) as
to think to come to heaven by walking just downward in the lusts of the
flesh? Truly this is the strongest and strangest enchantment that can be,
that you think to sow one thing and reap another thing, to sow darkness
and reap light, to sow corruption and reap incorruption. Is that possible
in nature to sow nettle seed and think to reap barley or wheat? Be not
deceived. O that you would undeceive your poor deluded souls, and know
that it is as natural for death and hell to grow out of sin and walking
after the flesh, as it is for every seed to yield its own fruit and herb!
Do you then think to dissolve the course and order of nature? Truly the
flesh is mortal in itself; it is ordained for corruption. You see what it
turns to after the life is out, that is an emblem of the state of the
fleshly soul after death. As you did abase your spirits to the service of
the flesh here, and all your ploughing, and labouring, and sowing was
about it, the seed which you did cast in the ground was fleshly lusts,
earthly things for the satisfaction of your flesh, so you shall reap of
the flesh corruption, death, and destruction that shall make your immortal
spirits mortal and corruptible, and subject them to death and corruption
with the body, as far as they are capable, it shall deprive them of all
that which is their proper life and refreshment, and separate them
eternally from the fountain of blessedness, and banish them out of heaven
unto the fellowship of devils. And O, that corruption of the incorruptible
spirit is worse than the corruption of the mortal flesh, _corruptio optimi
pessima_!
Now, whoever of you is thus far undeceived as to believe your danger and
misery, and to discern that inbred delusion of your hearts, be not
discouraged utterly, there may be hope of recovery when you see your
disease. I say, if you see that hell is at the end of your way, then know
that he who sent that voice to call you off that way of death, he leaves
you not to your own wits to guide you into the right way, but he follows
with a voice behind you, saying, “Here is the way, walk in it,” turn not
out of it to the right hand or left. And this voice sounds plainly in the
word, and it is nothing else but the sound of the gospel,—that blessed
sound that invites and allures you to come to Jesus Christ, “the way,
truth, and life,” the true way to the true life. All other ways, all other
lives have no truth in them, it is but a cloud, a fancy that men apprehend
and lay hold on. But come to this way and it will truly lead thee to the
true life, eternal life. If you fly unto him out of the apprehension of
your danger, you have a clear way to come to God, and as plain a way to
attain life and peace. Being in Christ, you have assurance of not falling
into condemnation. He is such a way as will hold you in, and not suffer
you to go out of it again to the way of death. And therefore he will give
you a Tutor, a Guider, and Director in this way to life and peace, and
that is the Holy Spirit, to lead in all truth, and to guide your feet in
the way of his commandments. So that in this new and living way of Christ,
you shall have both light of the word to know where to walk, and life of
the Spirit to make you walk toward that eternal life, and thus grace and
truth are come by Jesus Christ. Indeed, you must suffer the mortification
of your flesh, you must endure the pain of the death of your lusts, the
cutting off your right hand and plucking out your right eye, which would
make you offend and stumble in the way, but let the remembrance of the
life to come sweeten it all. When men undergo the hazard of losing life
for a little pleasure, when, for a poor petty advantage, men will endure
so much pains and trouble. O what should “eternal life,” and such a life
as the best life here is but death to it! How should it mitigate and
sweeten the bitterness of mortification? How should it fortify our spirits
to much endurance and patience? A battle we must have, for these lusts
that we disengage from the devil, and the world besides, will lay wait for
us in this way, but, when for such small and inconsiderable advantages men
will endure all the disadvantages of war, of a long war, O how should the
expectation of this peace, which encloses and comprehends all felicity,
all well being, animate and strengthen us to fight in into the city of
life and peace eternal!
Sermon XX.
Verse 7.—“Because the carnal mind is enmity against God, for it is
not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.”
Unbelief is that which condemns the world. It involves in more
condemnation than many other sins, not only because more universal, but
especially because it shuts up men in their misery, and secludes them from
the remedy that is brought to light in the gospel. By unbelief I mean, not
only that careless neglect of Jesus Christ offered for salvation, but that
which is the root of that,—the inconsideration and ignorance of our
desperate sinfulness and irremediless misery without Christ,—which, not
being laid to heart seriously, makes such slight and superficial
entertainment of a Saviour and Redeemer. Man is truly miserable and
unhappy, whether he know it or not, but truly it is an accession to his
misery that he knows it not, that he neither apprehends what he is now by
nature, nor what he must shortly be made by justice. Indeed, if there were
no remedy to be found, it were a happy ignorance to be ignorant of misery,
the knowledge and remembrance of it could do nothing but add unto the
bitterness of it. If a man might bury it in eternal forgetfulness, it were
some ease. But now, when God hath in his mercy so appointed it, that the
beginning of the belief of sin and misery shall, in a manner, be the end
of misery, and seeing, whether men know it or not, they must shortly be
made sensible of it, when there is no remedy to be found, then, certainly,
it is the height of man’s misery that he knows and considers it not. If we
would apply our hearts at length to hear what God the Lord speaks—for he
only can give account of man to himself,—we might have a survey of both in
these words and the preceding—of our desperate wickedness, and of our
intolerable misery. For the present, by nature we are enemies to God, and
shortly we must be dealt with as enemies, as rebels to the most potent and
glorious King,—be punished with death, an endless living death. Experience
shows how hard a thing it is to persuade you that you are really under the
sentence of death, you will not suffer your hearts to believe your danger,
lest it interrupt your present pleasures of sin. Nay, you will flatter
yourselves with the fancied hope of immunity from this curse, and account
it a cruel and rigorous doctrine,—that so many creatures made by God
should be eternally miserable, or a sentence of it should be passed on all
flesh. Now, that which makes us hardly to believe this is the unbelief and
deep inconsideration of your sinfulness, therefore, the apostle, to make
way for the former, adds, “Because the carnal mind is enmity against God.”
Do not wonder then that your ways and courses, your affections and
inclinations bring forth that ghostly and dreadful end of death, seeing
all these are enmity to the greatest King, who alone hath the power of
life and death. They have a perfect contrariety to his holy nature and
righteous will. Not only is the carnal mind an enemy, but enmity itself,
and therefore it is most suitable that the sovereign power of that “King
of kings,” is stretched out to the vindication of his holiness and
righteousness, by taking vengeance on all ungodliness and unrighteousness
of men. If rebellion in a state or monarchy against these petty mortal
gods, who shall die as men, be so heinous as to deserve death, by the
consent of all nations, how much more shall enmity and rebellion against
the immortal eternal King, who hath absolute right and dominion over his
creatures as over the clay, have such a suitable recompense of eternal
death? Now, my beloved, if you once believed this, the enmity and
opposition of your whole natures to God, you could not but fearfully
apprehend what might be the issue of it, you could not bless yourselves as
you do, and put the evil day far off, but certainly you would be
affrighted with the terror and majesty of that God you have to do with,
whom, when he awakes to judgment, you can neither resist nor escape, no
standing against his wrath, and no flying from it out of his dominions,
and this would dispose and incline your minds in time to hearken to the
treaty of peace, which is holden out in the gospel, and to lay down the
weapons of your enmity, and make peace with him in his Son the Peace
maker.
Amity and unity are the very being and beauty of the world. This universe
is made up of innumerable different kinds and natures, and all these climb
and walk together by the bond of peace and concord among themselves, and
with that one high understanding that directs all, and supreme will of God
that moves all. It is that link of union with God, that gives and
preserves being and beauty in all the creatures, as the dependence of the
ray upon the sun, or the stream upon the fountain, makes them what they
are, which being interrupted they cease to be what they were, “all things
continue as thou hast ordained them for all are thy servants,” Psal. cxix.
9. You see, then, this amity and union of subordination of the creatures
to God is not dissolved to this day, but woful and wretched man alone hath
withdrawn from this subordination, and dissolved this sacred tie of happy
friendship, which at first he was lifted up unto, and privileged with.
Amity and friendship, you know, consists in an union of hearts and wills,
and a communion of all good things, it makes two one, as much as two can
be, by the conspiracy of their affections in one thing, and the joint
concurrence of their endeavours to communicate to one another what each
hath, it takes away propriety,(183) and it makes a community between
persons. Now, how happy was that amity! how blessed that friendship
between God and man! Though man’s goodness could not extend to God, yet
his soul united to God by love and delight, and all that God had given him
returning that to the proper owner, acknowledging his absolute dependence
on him, and claiming interest and propriety in nothing, not in himself.
And then, on the other hand, the love and good-will of the infinite God
placed on man, and from that fountain all the streams of happiness issuing
forth towards man, the fulness of God opening up itself to him, and laying
out itself towards him, God so far descending, as in a manner, to become
the creature’s, to expose and dispose himself, and all in him, for poor
man’s use and comfort.
How joyful was that amity! But the breaking of this bond of peace is as
sad and grievous. There was a woful interposal between God and us, which
hath separated these chief friends ever since the beginning, and that is
sin, the seeds of all enmity and discord, this hath rent asunder the bond
of amity, this hath made such a total aversion of the soul from God, and
imprinted such an irreconcilable enmity in the heart against the holy will
of God, that there is no possibility to reunite them again, and restore
the old friendship, as long as the soul is not quite changed and
transformed. That first creation is so marred and defaced, that there is
no mending of it till a second creation come. The carnal mind is not
simply an enemy, but enmity itself; an enemy may reconcile again, and
accept terms of peace but enmity cannot reconcile to amity, without the
very destruction of itself. The opposition of the heart is so perfect,
that as soon may enmity unite with amity, and become one with it, as a
carnal natural mind can submit to God’s holy will. That which was at the
beginning voluntary, is become necessary, and turned into the nature of an
inbred antipathy, that no art can cure. The fall was such a disjointing of
the soul from God, that no skill but infinite wisdom, no strength but
Almighty power, can set it right, and put it in the first posture again.
It is true, there are not many who will openly and expressly denounce war
against heaven, it is not so incident,(184) that any man should have
explicit plain thoughts of hatred against God. There are some common
principles engraven by God in all men’s minds, which serve as his
witnesses against men, that God should be loved, served, adored, and
worshipped, that there is nothing so worthy of the desires of the soul.
Now, this general acknowledgment deludes the most part, for they take it
for granted that they do love God with their heart, because their
consciences bear witness that they ought to love him, as if it were all
one to know our duty and to do it. Who is there but he entertains himself
with this good opinion of himself, that his heart is good and true to God,
for, say you, whom should I love, if I love not God? I were not worthy to
live if I love not him. It is true indeed that you say, but if you did
know your hearts you would find their faces turned backward and averted
from God, and could no more please yourselves in such a confession of the
truth, than the devil hath reason to think himself a believer, because he
is convinced that Christ is the Son of God, and confessed it too, no more
than the son that promised to go to the garden to work, and went not, had
ground to think himself an obedient son, (Matt. xxi. 30). Such a
confession of duty may be extorted from damned spirits, and therefore you
would not draw this vail over the wretched wickedness of your natures, to
the end that you may conceive well of yourselves. It is so far from
extenuating or excusing, that the very conviction of the great obligation
to love and obey God, is the greatest aggravation of the enmity. It is
this which makes it the purest malice and perfectest hatred, that knowing
the goodness of God, convinced of our bound duty to love and serve him,
yet in the very light of such a shining truth, to turn our hearts away
from him, and exercise all acts of hostility against him. That you may
know, then, wherein the enmity of your hearts consists, I shall instance
it in three branches or evidences. There is an enmity in the
understanding, that it cannot stoop to believing of the truth, there is an
enmity in the will, that it cannot subject to the obedience of God’s holy
commands, and this is extended also to a stubborn rebellion against the
will of God, manifested in the dispensations of his providence, in a word,
the natural and carnal mind is incapable of faith, of obedience, and of
submission. There are many things revealed in the scripture, that the
natural man cannot receive or know, “for they are foolishness to him,” 1
Cor. ii. 14. Some spirits there are lifted up above others, either by
nature or education, in which this rebellion doth more evidently appear,
reason in them contends with religion, and they will believe no more than
they can give a reason for. There is a wisdom in some men, that despiseth
the simplicity, or the inevidence(185) of the gospel, and accounts it
foolishness, the carnal mind will needs start out from implicit trusting
of God, when once it is possessed with some imagination of wisdom,
therefore how many are the insurrections of men’s spirits against God’s
absolute power over the creatures, against the mysteries of the holy
Trinity and incarnation, against the resurrection of our bodies? In these,
and such like, the pretended wisdom of men hath taken liberty to act
enmity, and to dispute against God. But truly, the rebellion and
insubjection against the truth of God is more generally practised, even by
the multitude of men though in an unfree, hidden way, how few do believe
their own desperate wickedness, though God hath testified it of man? Doth
not every one apprehend some good to remain in his nature, and some power
to good? What an impossibility is it to persuade you that all mankind are
under the sentence of eternal condemnation, that children, who have not
done good or evil, are involved in it also? Your hearts rise against such
doctrines, as if they were bloody and cruel inventions. To tell you that
many are called and few chosen, that the most part of them who profess the
truth are walking in the way to hell, and shall undoubtedly fall into it,
you may hear such things but you bless yourselves from them, and cannot be
persuaded to admit them into your minds, the hearts of men will be giving
the very lie to the God of truth, when he speaks these things in his word,
God forbid that all that be true! If we should expound the law unto you,
and show you that the least idle word, the lightest thoughts, the smallest
inward motion of the heart deserves eternal misery, that anger is murder
in God’s sight, that lusting is fornication, that covetousness and love of
the world is idolatry, these things you cannot know or receive. There are
so many high imaginations in your minds, that exalt themselves against the
knowledge of God, so many thoughts that are mustered and set in battle
array against the holy truths of God, that truly no weapons of human
persuasion or instruction can be able to cast down your misapprehensions
and imaginations, or reasonings of your hearts, or able to scatter these
armies of rebellious thoughts, and bring them in captivity, (2 Cor. x. 4,
5). Man’s darkened mind is a stronghold, that all the repeated and
continued beatings of the word, the multiplying “precept upon precept and
line upon line,” cannot storm it to make any true light shine into it. It
is a dungeon, a pit so shut up and enclosed, no door nor window in it, so
that albeit the Son of righteousness shine upon it, and round about it,
there is no beam of that light can enter in the hearts of many thousands.
The generality are drowned as yet in a deluge of ignorance, under the very
light of daily preaching. It is a night of as thick darkness within men’s
souls, as if there were no light about us. Certainly this declares the
height of enmity, the strength of the opposition. This prison of your
minds is a stronghold indeed, that is proof of all preaching or
instruction, and certainly they will hold out, till almighty power storm
them, and beat or batter open some entry in your souls to receive this
shining light of the gospel.
Then, there is a rebellion of the will against God’s holy will revealed in
his law or word, it cannot be subject to the law of God. It neither is nor
can, for enmity and antipathy is sunk into its nature so, that it is the
most deformed monstrous thing in the world, if the disfigured face of
man’s soul were visible, O how ugly were it! How would you loathe it! If
there were a creature that could do nothing but hate itself and sought its
own destruction, that were a hateful enough object. But self hatred and
enmity is nothing so deformed and abominable, as for the creature’s will
to be set in opposition to the holy will of him that made it. It needs not
much demonstration this, if you had but a little more consideration. Look
back upon the tenor of your ways, set them beside the will and commands of
God, and what find you? Whether agreement or disagreement? Take a view of
the current of your inclinations and affections, and compare that with the
holy will of God, and what find you? Friendship or enmity? You cannot
digest the reproach of that, to be called enemies to God, but I pray you
consider if there be not as perfect contrariety in your desires,
affections, inclinations, and actions to the will of God as if you did
profess it. What would you do if you professed yourselves enemies to God?
Could you possibly vent your enmity any other way than this, in
withdrawing from the yoke of his obedience, in revolting from that
allegiance you owe to him? You could wrong him no further than by setting
your hearts and ways contrary to his heart and ways in loving what he
hates and hating what he loves. For his own blessed being you could not
impair it. Now, consider if that be not acted as really as if you did
profess it. Can you say that cursing, swearing, lying, railing, anger,
strife, envy, revenge, and such like works of darkness, are the things
which his soul loves? Are these suitable to his holy will? And yet these
are your inveterate customs, to which your natures are so inured and
habituated, that you can no more forsake them than hate yourselves. Are
filthiness, drunkenness, Sabbath breaking, covetousness and love of the
world, are these his delight? And yet these are your delight. Again is it
not his will that ye should purge yourselves from all filthiness of flesh
and spirit, and perfect holiness? Is not righteousness that which he
loves, and truth in the inward parts? Doth not he look to a contrite
heart, and account that a savoury sacrifice? Is it not his royal statute
and commandment, of which not one jot shall fail, that ye should deny
yourselves, love your enemies, forgive them that offend you, sanctify his
name always in your hearts, and especially on the holy Sabbath, that ye
should watch unto prayer, be sober in the use of the world, be much in
watching for his second coming? Now, what repugnance is in your hearts
and ways to all these? Do not the conversations of men display a banner
against the gospel, and proclaim as much in reality as is said in words in
Psal. ii., “Let us cast his cords behind us, and cut his bands.” These
things are unsavoury unto you, you smell nothing pleasant in them, but
only in the puddle of the world, in running at random, at your own
liberty, after your own imaginations, that you account only liberty. O
when shall your hearts be subdued, and your affections brought in
captivity to the obedience of Christ! When shall you be delivered up to
the truth, and so made to obey from the heart that form of doctrine and
sound words, Rom. vi. 17. This is the strongest hold that Satan hath in
man’s heart,—his will and affections, and this keeps out longest against
Jesus Christ, till he that is stronger come and bind the strong man, and
cast out the enmity, and make all captive to his loving obedience, and
willing subjection, 2 Cor. x. 4, 5.
Then, thirdly, the enmity of the soul of man is acted in his rebellion
against the will of God manifested in his works, in his unsubjection and
unsubmissive disposition towards the good pleasure of the Lord, in carving
out such and such a lot in the world. It is certain, that as the will of
God is the supreme rule of righteousness, so it is the sovereign cause and
fountain of all things and therefore, how infinitely is the creature bound
to be subject to him as a Lawgiver, by pleasant and willing obedience to
his righteous and reasonable commands, and to submit to him as the
absolute Ruler, by quiet and humble condescendence, to all the
dispensations of his providence! Now, you know,—if you know any thing of
yourselves,—how cross and opposite these hearts of yours are to his good
pleasure, how they are set just contrary. And whence flow all murmurings,
grudgings, discontents, griefs, cares, and perplexities of men, but from
this fountain, the rebellion of the heart against God? There is nothing in
all the creation mutinous and malcontent, but the heart of man. You see
frequent examples of it, in the murmurations of the people in the
wilderness. It is frequently styled, a tempting of the Lord, (Exod. xvii.
2,) importing a high provocation of his holy Majesty, a special
incitement, as it were, and motive to declare his absolute power and
righteousness against such, and therefore these are often conjoined, Psal.
lxxviii. 17, 18, “They sinned yet more, by provoking the most High,—and
they tempted God in their hearts” and it is added, verse 19, “Yea, they
spake against God.” Wherein you may observe a gradation of aggravations of
this enmity. When men have already deserved infinite punishment at his
hand, and may always look within, and find an answer to all the murmurings
of their hearts, as having sinned so often against him, yet then, to rise
up against his good pleasure, and after we have so often sinned, to repine
at any thing coming from him. And this, certainly, is a high provocation
of the most high God; it puts a kind of necessity upon him, to inflict
that which thou indeed deservest, and then, this inward heart burning
against God,—it breaks out often in words, against that most high and holy
One, so ver. 40, 41, and ver. 56, 57 _Provoking_, which is the plain
expression of murmuring, in the margin is rendered, _rebelling against
him_, and so in ver 8, when a short account is given of them, when the
character or anagram of such a people is expressed, it is set down thus,
“a stubborn and rebellious generation.” Therefore Paul, considering this
woful and wretched posture of the soul, set in opposition to the always
blessed will of God, and the madness and folly of it, he exhorts us,
“Neither murmur ye, as some of them murmured and were destroyed of the
destroyer, for these things happened for ensamples,” &c., 1 Cor. x. 10,
11. Truly, there is nothing more deformed and vile in itself, or more
disquieting and tormenting to the soul, or more dangerous in the
consequences of it, than such a posture of spirit, a discontented humour
against God’s providence whether it be in withholding that good thing from
us which we desire, or sending that which crosseth our humour, whether
sickness, or want, or reproach, or disrespect, whatsoever it be that the
heart is naturally carried to pursue or eschew. What more abominable and
ugly visage, than the countenance of an angry and furious person? But when
this is against God, it adds infinitely to the deformity and vileness of
it. “I do well to be angry,” is the motto of a discontented soul. It
elects an imaginary sovereignty against true Sovereignty, it sets up an
anti providence, it establisheth another divine power and wisdom, and
brings the majesty, highness, and holiness of God down to be tread upon by
the creature. And then it is its own tormentor, a sin that needs no
punishment but itself the insurrection and mutiny of the heart against
God’s will, sets all the powers of the soul out of course, vexes pains,
and disquiets all. There is no peace and tranquillity but in the
complacency of the heart with God’s heart, as Ephraim was like a bullock
unaccustomed with the yoke, (Jer. xxxi. 18 ) the more he fretted and
spurned at his yoke, the more it galled him, and grieved him, till he was
instructed, and then he was eased. This fills the soul with hideous
tormenting thoughts, and cares; this feeds upon its own marrow, and
consumes it—as some have made the emblem of envy,—which is a particular
kind of this enmity, as if you would imagine a creature that did waste and
consume all its moisture, and marrow, and feed upon the destruction of
itself. Now this is but the prelude of what follows, this self-punishment
is a messenger to tell what is coming, that the most high God is engaged
in his power against such a person, and shall vent his displeasure to
their eternal displeasure. That is the fruit of this enmity.
Sermon XXI.
Verses 7, 8.—“The carnal mind is enmity against God for it is not
subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. So then they
that are in the flesh cannot please God.”
It is not the least of man’s evils, that he knows not how evil he is,
therefore the Searcher of the heart of man gives the most perfect account
of it, Jer. xvii. 12. “The heart is deceitful above all things,” as well
as “desperately wicked,” two things superlative and excessive in it,
bordering upon an infiniteness, such as sin is capable of, wickedness and
deceitfulness! And indeed, that which makes the wicked heart desperately
and hopelessly so, is the deceitfulness of it. There are many specious
coverings gotten to palliate this wickedness and enmity, and so many
invisible and spiritual wickednesses in the heart, that it is no wonder
that they lurk and dwell without observation. Sin is either covered with
some deceivable pretext of another thing, or altogether escapes the dim
eyes of men, because of its subtile and spiritual nature. Both are in
this business: the enmity of man’s heart against God is so subtile a thing
in many, and it is shrouded over with some other pretences in all, that
few get the lively discovery and sense of it. It is true, it is very
gross and palpable in the most part of men,—visible, I mean, upon them,
though not to themselves. Any, whose eyes are opened, may behold the
black visage of rebellion in the most part of the actings and courses of
men, as the apostle, (Gal. v.) speaks “the works of the flesh are
manifest.” Truly this enmity against God is too manifest in most part,
the weapons of your warfare against God being so carnal and visible, your
opposition to his holy will and ways being so palpable. There is an
enmity acted by many in the tenor of their conversation, without God in
the world, and against God, as appears in all your inveterate and godless
customs of lying, swearing, cursing, drunkenness, railing, Sabbath
breaking, neglect of prayer, and such like, which carry in their fore brow
this inscription, “against the known God,” opposite to that of the
Athenians altar. The God whom you pretend to know and worship,—his name is
every day blasphemed, his word slighted, his will disobeyed, as if you had
proclaimed war against him. But there is in some (and I fear a great many)
not only an acted but an affected enmity too, enmity rising up to the
maturity and ripeness of malignity and hatred of the image of God, in all
his children. Some are not willing to go to heaven, yet they do not
disturb others in their journey, they can let others be religious about
them, and rawly(186) desire to be like them, but others there are, who
will neither enter into heaven themselves, nor let others enter, as Christ
speaks of the Pharisees, Matt. xxiii. 13. They hate the light of
another’s conversation, because their own deeds are evil, and are reproved
and condemned by it. It is said, Rev. xi. 10, the witnesses tormented
them that dwelt on the earth. It is strange what a torment it is to the
world that the godly are in it! Piety is an eyesore to many, if they could
extirpate all that bears that image, they would think it sweet as bread,
Psal. xiv. This is a more open and declared enmity against the God of
heaven, and yet I know it lurks under the mask of some other thing. You
pretend to hate hypocrisy only, alas! what a scorn is it for profanity to
hate hypocrisy? Sure it is not because it is a sin but for the very shadow
of piety it carries. You hate the thing itself so perfectly, that you
cannot endure the very picture of it. Do not deceive yourselves, the true
quarrel is because they run not to the same excess of riot with you. If
they will lie, cozen, defraud, swear, and blaspheme as other men, you
could endure to make them companions, as you do others, and the principle
of that is, the enmity that was placed in the beginning, that mortal
irreconcilable feud, betwixt the two families, are two seeds of Christ and
Satan.
But as I told you, this enmity acts in a more subtile and invisible way in
some, and it is painted over with some fair colours to hide the deformity
of it. Not only the grosser corruptions of men carry this stamp, but take
even the most refined piece or part in man, take his mind, take the
excellency of his mind, even the wisdom of it, yet that hath enmity
incorporated into it, and mixed with it throughout all, for the wisdom of
the flesh is enmity with God, as it may be read, φρονημα, the very
prudence and reason of a natural man, which carries him to a distance
from, and opposition with, the common defilements in the courses of men,
yet that hath in its bosom a more exquisite and refined enmity against
God, and so the more spiritual and purified it be from grosser
corruptions, it is the more active and powerful against God, because it
is, as it were, the very spirit and quintessence of enmity. You see it, 1
Cor i., how the wisdom of God is foolishness to the wisdom of the world,
and then again, that the wisdom of the world is the greatest folly to the
only wise God. Men, that have many natural advantages beyond others, are
at this great disadvantage, they are more ready to despise godliness, as
too base and simple a thing to adorn their natures, as Christ said of rich
men, it may be said of wise men, of learned men, of civil and blameless
persons who have a smooth carriage before the world, how hard is it for
such to enter into the kingdom of heaven? Hard indeed! for they must be
stripped naked of that, ere they can enter through this narrow gate, I
mean, the opinion and conceit, of any worth or excellency, and so
diminished in their own eyes, that they may go through this needle s eye
without crushing.
The stream of enmity runs under ground often, and so hides itself under
some other notion, till at length it burst forth openly. I find it
commonly runs in the secret channel of amity or friendship to some other
thing opposite to God. So James iv. 4, The amity of the world is enmity
with God, and 1 John ii. 15, He that loveth the world, the love of the
Father is not in him. There are two dark and under ground conduits, to
convey this enmity against God,—amity to the world, and amity to
ourselves, self love, and creature-love. We cannot denounce war openly
against heaven, but this is the next course, to join to, or associate
with, any party that is contrary to God, and thus, under the covert of
friendship to ourselves, and love to the world, we war against God, and
destroy our own souls. I say, first, amity to the world carries enmity to
God in the bosom of it, and if you believe not this, hear the apostles
sharp and pungent question, you adulterers and adulteresses, know you not
that the amity of the world is enmity with God? He doth not speak only to
persons guilty of that crime, but to all natural men, who are guilty of
adultery or whoredom of a more spiritual nature, but as abominable and
more dangerous. There is a bond and special tie betwixt all men and God
their Maker, which obligeth them to consecrate and devote themselves,
their affections and endeavours, to his honour, especially when the
covenant of the gospel is superadded unto that, in which Jesus Christ our
Lord reveals himself, as having only right to us and our affections, as
willing to bestow himself upon us, and notwithstanding of all the distance
between him and wretched sinners, yet filling it up with his infinite love
and wonderful condescendency, demitting himself to the form of a servant,
out of love, that so he might take us up to be his chaste spouse, and
adorn us with his beauty. This he challengeth of us, whoever hear and
profess the gospel, this is your profession—if ye understand it—that Jesus
Christ shall be your well-beloved, and ye his, that ye shall separate
yourself to him, and admit no stranger in his place, that the choice and
marrow of your joy, love and delight, shall be bestowed on him. Now, this
bond and tie of a professed relation to that glorious husband, is foully
broken by the most part, by espousing their affections to this base world.
Your hearts are carried off him unto strangers, that is, present perishing
things whereas the intendment of the gospel is, to present you to Christ
as pure virgins, 2 Cor. xi. 2. Truly your hearts are gone a whoring after
other things, the love of the world hath withdrawn you, or kept you in
chains, these present things are as snares, nets, and bands, as an
harlot’s hands and heart, Eccl. vii. 26. They are powerful enchantments
over you, which bewitch you to a base love, from an honourable and
glorious love. O that you would consider it, my beloved, what opposition
here is betwixt the love of the world and the love of the Father, betwixt
amity to that which hath nothing in it, but some present bait to your
deceitful lusts, and amity to God, your only lawful Husband! Affection is
a transforming and conforming thing, _Si terram amas terra es_,(187) the
love of God will purify thy heart, and lift it up to more similitude to
him whom thou lovest, but the love of the world assimilates it unto the
world, makes it such a base and ignoble piece, as the earth is. Do you
think marriage affection can be parted? “My well beloved is mine,”
therefore the church is the turtle, the dove to Christ, of wonderful
chastity, it never joins but to one, and after the death of its marrow, it
sighs and mourns ever after, and sits solitarily. You must retire, my
beloved, and disengage from the love of other things, or you cannot love
Christ, and if you love not Christ, you cannot have peace with the Father,
and if you have not that peace, you cannot have life. This is the chain of
life, the first link begins at the divorcement of all former loves and
beloved idols once the soul must be loosed in desire and delight, and that
link must be fastened upon the most lovely and desirable object Christ,
the Desire of the nations, and this draws along another link of peace and
life with it. Do not mistake it, religion would not hinder or prejudice
your lawful business in this world. O, it were the most compendious way to
advance it with more ease to your souls! But certainly it will teach you
to exchange the love of these things for a better and more heart
contenting love.
Then amity to ourselves is enmity to God, and truly this is the last
stronghold that holds out longest against God, when others may be beaten
down or surrendered. Possibly a man may attain to this, to despise these
lower things, as below his natural dignity and the excellency of his
spirit. Some may renounce much of that friendship with worldly and
temporal things, as being sordid and base, but the enmity gets into this
strong and invisible tower of darkness, self love and pride and therefore
the apostle John makes this the last and chiefest, the pride of life, 1
John ii. 16. When the lusts of the eyes and flesh are in some measure
abated this is but growing, and what decreaseth of these, seems to
accresce(188) unto this, as if self love and pride did feed and nourish
itself upon the ashes or consumption of other vices. Yea, it draws sap
from graces and virtues, and grows thereby, till at length it kill that
which nourished it, and indeed the apostle James seems to proceed to this,
ver 5, 6 when he minds us that God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace
to the humble. “Doth the scripture say this in vain?” saith he. Is not
self amity as well enmity as the amity of the world? And therefore God
opposes himself unto it, as the very grand enmity. Self is the great lord,
the arch rebel, the head of all opposition, that in which they do all
centre, and when all the inferior soldiers are captives, or killed this is
last in the field, it lives first in opposition and dies last, _primum
vivens et ultimum moriens_. When a man is separated from many things, yet
he may be but more conjoined to himself, and so the further disjoined from
God. Of all these vile rags of the old man, this is nearest the skin, and
last put off, of all the members, self is the heart, first alive, and last
alive. When enmity is constrained to render up the outward members of the
body, to yield them to a more smooth and fair carriage to a civil
behaviour, when the mind itself is forced to yield unto some light of
truth and knowledge of the gospel, yet the enmity retires into the heart,
and fortifies it the stronger, by self love and self estimation, as in
winter the encompassing cold makes the heat to combine itself together in
the bowels of the earth, and by this means the springs are hotter than in
summer, so the surrounding light of the gospel, or education, or natural
honesty, drives the heat and strength of enmity inward, where it fortifies
itself more. This is that accursed antiperistasis(189) that is made by the
concurrence of some advantages of knowledge and civility, and such like.
The blood of enmity against God gets in about the heart, when it is chased
for fear out of the outward man, therefore, the very first and fundamental
principle of Christianity, is, “Let a man deny himself, and so he shall be
my disciple.” He must become a fool in his own eyes, though he be wise,
that he may be wise (1 Cor. iii. 18), he must become as ungodly, though
godly, that he may be justified by faith (Rom. iv. 5), he must forsake
himself, that he may indeed find himself, or get a better self in another,
he must not eat much honey, that is not good, it would swell him though it
be pleasant, he must not search his own glory, or reflect much upon it, if
he would be a follower and a friend of Christ. Look, how much soever you
engage to yourselves esteem, or desire to be esteemed of others, to
reflect with complacency on yourselves, to mind your own satisfaction and
estimation in what you do, so much you disengage from Jesus Christ, for
these are contrary points. This is a direct motion towards Christ. That is
an inverse and backward motion towards ourselves, and so much as we move
that way, we promove not, but lose our way, and are further from the true
end. Ezekiel’s living creatures may be an emblem of a Christian’s motion,
he returns not as he goes, he makes a straight line to God, whithersoever
he turn him, but nature makes all crooked lines, they seem to go forth in
obedience to God, but they have a secret unseen reflexion into its own
bosom. And this is the greatest act of enmity, to idolize God, and deify
ourselves, we make him a cypher and sacrifice to ourselves his peculiar,
incommunicable property of Alpha and Omega, that we do sacrilegiously
attribute to ourselves, the beginning of our notions, and end of them too.
This is the crooked line, that nature cannot possibly move out of, till a
higher Spirit come and restore her that halted, and make plain her paths.
That which is added, as a reason, explains this enmity more clearly,
_because it cannot be subject_, &c. Truly these two forementioned amities
of the world and of ourselves, do withdraw men wholly from the orderly
subjection that they owe to the law of God. Order is the beauty of every
thing, of nature, of art, of the whole universe, and of the several parts,
kingdoms and republics of it. This indeed is the very beauty of the world,
all things subordinate to him that made them, only miserable man hath
broken this order, and marred this beauty, and he cannot be subject ουχ
υποτασσιτα cannot come again into that orderly station and subordination
he was once into. This is the only gap or breach of the creation. And it
is some other engagements that draw him thus far out of course—the base
love of the world, and the inordinate love of himself. O these make his
neck stiff, that it cannot bow to the yoke of obedience, these have
opposite and contrary commands, and no man can serve two masters. When the
commands of the great lord, self, come in opposition with the commands of
God, then he cannot be subject to the law of God. For a time, in some
things he may resemble a subjection, when the will of self and the will of
God commands in one point, as sometimes they do by accident, but that is
neither frequent nor constant.
Not only is he not subject, but there is worse in it, he cannot be subject
to the law of God. This is certainly to throw down the natural pride of
man, that always apprehends some remanent ability in himself. You think
still to make yourselves better, and when convinced or challenged for
sins, to make amends and reform your lives. You use to promise these
things as lightly and easily as if they were wholly in your power, and as
if you did only delay them for advantage, and truly it seems this
principle of self sufficiency is engraven on men’s hearts when they
procrastinate and delay repentance and earnest minding of religion to some
other fitter season, as if it were in their liberty to apply to it when
they please, and when you are urged and persuaded to some reformation, you
take in hand, even as that people, Jer. xlii. 6, 20, who said, “all that
the lord hath said we will do.” You can strike hands, and engage to serve
the Lord, as easily as that people in Joshua xxiv. 18, 19. But we may say,
Oh, that there were such a heart in you! But, alas, such a heart is not in
you! You cannot serve the Lord, for he is holy and jealous, and ye are not
only weak, but wicked. I beseech you then, believe this one testimony that
God hath given of man, even the choicest thing in man, the very wisdom of
a natural man, it is not subject to God’s law, and it cannot be better,
neither can it be subject. Resolution, industry, vows, and covenants will
not effect this, till the Most High break and bow the heart. And not only
has this enmity against the old law of commandments an antipathy at them,
as crossing our lust, but even against the new and living law of the
Spirit of life in Christ.
Here is your misery, you can neither be subject to the law as commanding
to obey it, or threatening for disobedience to it, nor to the gospel as
promising to believe and receive it. The law commands, but your law
countermands within; the law threatens and sentences you with
condemnation, but you have some self-pleasing delusion and dream in your
heads, and bless yourselves in your own hearts, even though ye walk in the
imagination of your hearts, contrary to the law, Deut. xxix. It is strange
that you do not fore-apprehend and fear hell! But it is this delusion
possesses the heart, “you shall not die:” it was the first act of enmity,
not only the transgression of the command, hut unbelief of the truth of
the curse: and that which first encouraged man to sin, encourages you all
to lie into it, and continue in it,—a fancy of escaping wrath. This noise
fills the heart; Satan whispers in the ear, Go on, you shall not die. Thus
it appears, that the natural mind cannot be subject to the law of God, no
persuasion, no instruction, can enforce this belief of your damnable
condition upon you.
But then, when the enmity is beaten out of this fort, and a soul is really
convinced of its desperate and lost estate, when the heart is brought down
to subjection, to take with that dreadful sentence; yet there is another
tower of enmity in the heart, that can keep out against the weapons of the
gospel, such as Paul mentions, Rom. x. 3. Being ignorant of the
righteousness of God, they went about to establish their own, and could
not submit to the righteousness of God. There is a natural pride and
stiffness of heart, that we cannot endure but to have something in
ourselves to rest on, and take pleasure into: and when a soul sees
nothing, it rather vexes and torments itself as grieving because it hath
no ornament or covering of its own, nor rejoiceth and delighteth in that
righteousness of God revealed in Christ. O the difficulty to bow down so
low, as to put on another’s righteousness over our nakedness! And should
it be called submission? Is it not rather the elevating and exalting of
the soul? Yet in respect of our natural posture of spirit, it is a matter
of great difficulty to make a self-condemned sinner submit to this, to be
saved freely, without money or price, by another’s ransom. What empty,
vain, and frivolous expiations and satisfactions will souls invent, rather
than trust all to this! How long will poor souls wander abroad from hill
to mountain, seeking some inherent qualification, to commend them, and
leave this garden and paradise of delights, which is opened up in Christ?
Souls look everywhere for help, till all hands fail; and then necessity
constrains them to come hither; but indeed, when necessity brings in,
charity and amity keeps in, when once they know what entertainment is in
Christ. As for you, who as yet have not stooped to the sentence of wrath,
how will you submit to the righteousness of God? But I wonder how you
imagine this to be so easy a thing to believe. You say you did always
believe in Christ, and that your hearts are still on him, and that you do
it night and day. Now, there needs no other argument to persuade that you
do not at all believe in the gospel, who have apprehended no more
difficulty in it, no more contrariety to your rebellious natures in it.
Let this one word go home with you, and convince you of your unbelief,
“The natural mind is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can
be.” How, then, do you come so easily by it? Certainly it must be feigned
and counterfeit.
Sermon XXII.
Verse 8.—“So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God.”
It is a kind of happiness to men, to please them upon whom they depend,
and upon whose favour their well-being hangs. It is the servant’s
happiness to please his master, the courtier’s to please his prince; and
so generally, whosoever they be that are joined in mutual relations, and
depend one upon another; that which makes all pleasant, is this, to please
one another. Now, certainly, all the dependencies of creatures one upon
another, are but shadows unto the absolute dependence of creatures upon
the Creator, for in him we live, and move, and have our being: the
dependence of the ray upon the sun, of the stream upon the fountain, is
one of the greatest in nature; but all creatures have a more necessary
connexion with this Fountain-being, both in their being and well-being;
they are nothing but a flux and emanation of his power and pleasure, and,
as the Psalmist expresseth it, He hides his face and they are troubled; he
takes away their breath, and they die, and return to their dust: He sends
forth his Spirit, and they are created, and he renews the face of the
earth, Psal. civ. 29, 30. You may extend this to the being and well-being,
the happiness and misery of creatures; our souls which animate our bodies
are but his breath which he breathed into the dust, and can retract when
he pleaseth; the life of our souls, the peace, and tranquillity, and
satisfaction is another breathing of his Spirit, and another look of his
countenance; and as he pleases to withdraw it, or interpose between his
face and us, so we live or die, are blessed or miserable. Our being or
well-being hath a more indispensable dependence on him, than the image in
the glass hath upon the living face.
If it be so then, certainly of all things in the world it concerns us
nearest how to please him, and to be at peace with him. If we be in good
terms with him in whose hands our breath is, and whose are all our ways,
(Dan. v. 23.) upon whose countenance our misery or felicity hangs, then
certainly we are happy. If we please him, it matters not whom we
displease; for he alone hath absolute, uncontrolled, and universal power
over us, as our Saviour speaks, over both soul and body. We may expect
that his good pleasure towards us will not be satisfied, but in
communicating his fulness, and manifesting his favour to us, especially
since the goodness of God is so exundant,(190) as to overflow even to the
wicked world, and vent itself as out of super-abundance, in a river of
goodness throughout the whole earth. How much more will it run abundantly
towards them whom he is well pleased with. And therefore the Psalmist
cries out, as being already full in the very hope and expectation of it,
that he would burst, if he had not the vent of admiration and praise, O
how great is his goodness, and how excellent his loving-kindness laid up
for them that fear him! Psal. xxxii 19. and xxxvi. 7. But, on the other
hand, how incomparable is the misery of them who cannot please God! even
though they did both please themselves and all others for the present. To
be at odds with him in whom alone they can subsist, and without whose
favour is nothing but wretchedness and misery, O that must be the worst
and most cursed estate imaginable: to be in such a state, as do what they
can, they cannot please him, whom alone to please is of only concernment,
what can be invented(191) to that? Now, if you ask who they are that are
such? These words speak it plainly, in way of inference from the former
doctrine, “So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God.” Not they
in whom there is flesh; for there are remnants of that in the most
spiritual man in this life: we cannot attain here to angelic purity,
though it should be the aim and endeavour of every Christian. But they
that are in the flesh, or after the flesh, imports the predomination of
that, and an universal thraldom of nature unto it, which indeed is the
state of all men that are but once born, till a second birth come, by the
Spirit of Jesus Christ.
The ground of this may be taken from the foregoing discourse, and it is
chiefly twofold. One is, because they are not in Jesus Christ, in whom his
soul is well pleased; another is, because they cannot suit and frame their
carriage according to his pleasure. Since all mankind hath fallen under
the displeasure of the most high God, by sinning against him, in
preferring the pleasure of the flesh, and the pleasure of Satan, to the
pleasure of God, there can be no atonement found to pacify him, no
sacrifice to appease him, no ransom to satisfy his justice, but that one
perfect offering for sin, Jesus Christ, the propitiation for the sins of
the elect world. This the Father accepts in the name of sinners; and in
testimony of his acceptance, he did two several times, by a voice from
heaven, declare, first to a multitude, (Matth. iii. 17.) and then to the
beloved disciples, (Matth. xvii. 5.) and both times with great majesty and
solemnity (as did become him), that this is his well-beloved Son, in whom
his soul is well-pleased. It pleased God to make the stream of his love to
take another channel after man’s sin, and not to run immediately towards
wretched man, but he turned the current of his love another way, to his
own Son, whom he chose for that end, to reconcile man, and bring him into
favor, and his love going about, by that compass, comes in the issue
towards poor sinners with the greater force. He hath appointed Christ the
meeting place with sinners, the Daysman to lay his hand on both, and
therefore he is God to lay his hand on God, and man to lay his hand on
man, and bring both into a peaceable and amiable conjunction. Now then,
whoever are not in Jesus Christ, as is spoken, certainly they cannot
please God do what they can, because God hath made Christ the centre in
which he would have the good pleasure of sinners meeting with his good
pleasure, and therefore, without faith it is impossible to please God,
(Heb. xi. 6) not so much for the excellency of the act itself, as for the
well pleasing object of it, Christ. The love of the Father is terminate in
him, his justice is satisfied in him, his love is well-pleased with the
excellency of his person, he finds in him an object of delight, which is
nowhere else, and his justice is well pleased with the sufficiency and
worthiness of his ransom, and without this compass, there is neither
satisfaction to the one, nor to the other, so then, whatsoever you are,
how high soever your degree in the world, how sweet soever your
disposition let your natures be never so good, your carriage never so
smooth, yet certainly there is nothing in all this that can please God,
either by an object of love, or a price for justice. You are under that
eternal displeasure, which will fall on and crush you to pieces. Mountains
will not be so heavy, as it will appear in that great day of his wrath
(Rev. vi.). I say, you cannot come from under that imminent weight of
eternal wrath unless you be found in Jesus Christ,—that blessed place of
immunity and refuge—if you have not forsaken yourselves and your own
natures, and denied your own righteousness as dung, to be found in him,
clothed with his righteousness and satisfaction. If the delight and
pleasure of your soul do not coincide and fall in at one place with the
delight and good pleasure of the Father, that is, upon his well beloved
Son, certainly the pleasure and good will of God hath not as yet fallen
upon you, and met with you; therefore, if you would please God, be pleased
with Christ, and you cannot do him a greater pleasure than believe in him,
(John v. 23) that is, absolutely resign yourselves unto him, for salvation
and sanctification.
The other ground is,—Such as are in the flesh cannot frame their spirits,
affections, and ways to God’s good pleasure, for their very wisdom, the
very excellency that is in them, is enmity to God and cannot be subject to
his law, and therefore they cannot please him. I am sure you may easily
reflect upon yourselves, and find, not with much search, but upon all
these, as the prophet (Jer. ii. 34) speaks, that it is not the study and
business you have undertaken to please God, but the bent and main of your
aims and endeavours is to please yourselves, or to please men. This makes
many men’s pains, even in religion displeasing to God, because they do not
indeed mind his pleasure, but their own or other’s satisfaction. What they
do, is but to conform to the custom of the time, or commandments of men,
or their own humour, and all this must needs be abominable to God. Truly,
that which is in great account among men, is an abomination to God, as our
Saviour speaks of the very righteousness and professed piety of the
Pharisees, Luke xvi. 15, the more you please yourselves and the world, the
further you are from pleasing God. The very beginning of pleasing God is
when a soul falls in displeasure at itself, and abhorrence of his own
loathsomeness, therefore it is said, The humble and contrite spirit I will
look unto, and dwell with him, and such sacrifices do please God, Isa.
lxvi. 2, Psal. li. 17. For the truth is, God never begins to be pleasant
and lovely to a soul till it begins to fall out of love with itself, and
grow loathsome in its own eyes. Therefore you may conclude this of
yourselves, that with many of you God is not well-pleased, although you be
all baptized unto Christ, and do all eat of that same spiritual meat, and
drink of that same spiritual drink, though you have all church privileges,
yet with many of you God is not well pleased, as 1 Cor. x. 2-5, not only
because those works of the flesh that are directly opposite to his own
known will, such as fornication, murmuring, grudging at God’s
dispensation, cursing and swearing, lying, drunkenness, anger, malice,
strife, variance, and such like, abound as much among you as that old
people, but even those of you that may be free from gross opposition to
his holy will, your nature hath the seed of all that enmity, and you act
enmity in a more covered way; you are so well pleased with yourselves,
your chief study is to please men, you have not given yourselves to this
study, to conform yourselves to the pleasure of God, therefore know your
dreadful condition, you cannot please God, without whose favour and
pleasure you cannot but be eternally displeased and tormented in
yourselves. Certainly, though now you please yourselves, yet the day shall
come that you shall be contrary to yourselves and all to you, as it is
spoken as a punishment of the Jews, (1 Thess. ii. 15) and there is some
earnest of in this life. Many wicked persons are set contrary to
themselves, and all to them, they are like Esau their hand against all,
and all men’s hands against them, yea, their own consciences continually
vexing them. This is a fruit of that fundamental discord and enmity
between men and God, and if you find it not now, you shall find it
hereafter.
But as for you that are in Jesus Christ, who being displeased with
yourselves, have fled into the well beloved, in whom the Father is well
pleased, to escape God’s displeasure, I say unto such, your persons God is
well pleased with in Christ and this shall make way and place for
acceptance to your weak and imperfect performances. This is the ground of
your peace and acceptance, and you would take it so, and it shall yield
you much peace, when you cannot be pleased with yourselves. But I would
charge that upon you, that as you by believing are well pleased with
Christ, so you would henceforth study to “walk worthy of your Lord unto
all well pleasing, being fruitful in every good work, and increasing in
the knowledge of God,” Col. i. 10. This is that to which you are called,
to such a work as may please him, to conform yourselves even to his
pleasure and will. If you love him, you cannot but fashion yourselves so
as he may be pleased. O how exact and observant is love of that which may
ingratiate itself in the beloved’s favour! It is the most studious thing
to please, and most afraid of displeasing. Enoch had a large and
honourable testimony, as ever was given to man, that he pleased God, Heb.
xi. 5. I beseech you be ambitious of this after a holy manner, labour to
know his will, and that for this end, that you may approve it and prove it
that you may do that good and acceptable will of God. Let his pleasure be
your rule, your law, to which all within you may conform itself. Though
you cannot attain an exact correspondence with his pleasure, but in many
things you will offend, yet certainly this will be the resolved study of
your hearts how to please him, and in as far as you cannot please him, you
will be displeased with yourselves. But then, I would advise you, in as
far as you are displeased with yourselves for not pleasing God, be as much
well pleased with Christ, the pleasing sacrifice and atonement, and this
shall please God as much as your obedience could do, or your disobedience
can displease him. To him be praise and glory.
Sermon XXIII.
Verse 9.—“But ye are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if so be
that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now, if any man have not the
Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.”
Application is the very life of the word, at least it is a necessary
condition for the living operation of it. The application of the word to
the hearts of hearers by preaching, and the application of your hearts
again to the word by meditation, these two meeting together, and striking
one upon another, will yield fire. Paul speaks of a right dividing of the
word of truth (2 Tim. ii. 15), not that ordinary way of cutting it all in
parcels, and dismembering it, by manifold divisions, which I judge makes
it lose much of its virtue, which consists in union, though some have
pleasure in it, and think it profitable, yet I do not see that this was
the apostolic way, that either they preached it themselves or recommended
it to others, but rather he means, the real distribution of the food of
souls unto their various conditions, as it is the duty of a steward to be
both faithful and wise in that, to give every one their own portion, and
as it is the pastor’s duty thus to distribute the word of God unto you, so
it is your part to apply it home to yourselves, without which application,
the former division of the word aright will not feed your souls, if every
man act not the pastor to his own heart it cannot profit. Now indeed the
right application of the word to souls is the difficultest part of
preaching, and it is the hardest point of hearing, in which there needs
both much affection and much direction, the one to be serious and ernest
in it, the other to be wise and prudent in it. Without suitable affection,
it will not pass into the substance of the soul to feed it, no more than
the stomach can digest meat, that wants convenient heat, and without
discretion and wisdom, to choose our own portion, it will not yield
convenient food, but increase humours and superfluities, or distemper our
spirits. That which I look at in these words, is the discretion and
prudence of this wise steward in God’s house, after he hath represented
the wretched and woful estate of them that are in the flesh, how their
natures cannot but are enmity against God, how their end is death and
destruction, he subjoins in due season a suitable encouragement to
believers, “You are not in the flesh,” &c. Because there is no man so
sensible of that corruption that dwells within, as he that is in part
renewed, as pain to a healthful body is most sensible, and as the
abundance of light makes a larger discovery of what is disordered and
defiled in the house, therefore such, upon the hearing of the accursed
estate of men in nature, of their natural rebellion against God, and God’s
displeasure against them, they are most ready, I say, to apply such things
to themselves, to the weakening of their own hands, and saddening of their
hearts, as the upright-hearted disciples were more ready to take with the
challenge of betraying Christ, than the false hearted Judas. Therefore the
apostle prevents such an abuse of the doctrine, by making application of
the better part unto the Romans, but for you, “ye are not of the flesh,”
&c. Indeed, self examination is necessary, and it is like chewing of the
meat before it be sent into the stomach, it is as necessary and precedent
before right application. I wish that every one of you would consider well
what this living word concerns you. It is the ground of all our
barrenness, no man brings this home to himself, which is spoken to all,
but truly the Lord speaks to all, that every man may speak to himself, and
ask at his own heart, what is my concernment in it? What is my portion? As
for you whom the Lord hath put upon this search of yourselves and hath
once made you to find yourselves in the black roll of perdition, under the
hazard of the eternal weight of God’s displeasure, and there hath showed
unto your souls a way of making peace with God, and a place of refuge in
Jesus Christ which hath sometimes refreshed and eased your hearts, and
only was able to purify your consciences, and calm the storms that did
arise in them, if it be hence forth your study to walk to please him and
this engagement be on your hearts, to make no peace with the flesh, and
corruption that dwells in you, then, I say, the Lord calls and accounts
you not carnal but spiritual, though there be much carnality in you, yet
he denominates from the better part, not from the greatest part, you are
not after the flesh but after the Spirit. Though Isaac be a weak young
child, and Ishmael the son of the bond woman be a strong man, yet thou art
in God’s account esteemed according to the promise, which shall be the
ground of thy stability. Isaac must abide in the house for ever, and grow
stronger and stronger, and Ishmael must be cast out and grow weaker and
weaker; the one is ordained for destruction, and so is called the old man,
drawing near to its grave, the other for life, and so is a new man renewed
day by day. Thus they are in God’s promise, and you would learn thus to
look upon it, not according to their present inequality in strength, but
that future inequality and difference which is wrapt up in the promise of
God and the seed whereof is in you.
As there is a woful penury and scantiness of examination in the most part
of men who are wholly spent without, and take no leisure to recognise
their own souls, so there is a miserable excess, and hurtful superfluity
of examination and disputation among many of God’s children, who are
always in reflection, and almost never in action, so much on knowing what
is, that they take not much leisure to do or pursue what is not. Truly, I
think when the apostle commands us to examine whether we be in the faith,
and prove ourselves, he did not mean to make it our perpetual exercise, or
so to press it as we should not endeavor to be in the faith, till we know
whether we be in it; that were no advancing way, to refuse to go on in our
journey till we know what progress we have made, as the custom is. But
simply and plainly, I think, he intended to have Christianity begin in
examination, as the first returning of a soul must needs be upon some
inquiry and search of the way, and knowledge upon search, that our former
way was wrong, and this is only right. But if this be the porch to enter
at, will you sit down and dwell in it, and not go on into the palace
itself? Because you must begin to search what you have learned wrong, that
now you may unlearn it, will you be ever about the learning to know your
condition, and by this means never attain to the knowledge of the truth?
But when you have upon any inquiry found yourselves out of the way, you
should not entertain that dispute long, but hearken to the plain voice of
the gospel, that sounds unto you, “This is the way, walk in it.” “I am the
way,” saith Christ, “enter at me, by believing in me.” Now, once having
found that you are unbelievers by nature, to suspend believing till you
prove whether you be in the faith, is unreasonable and impossible, for
certainly having once found yourselves void of it, you must first have it,
before you know that you have it, you must first apply to action, and
afterward your examination shall be more easy.
But I would tell of more profitable improvement of such representations of
the sinful and miserable estate of the ungodly world, than you use to make
of it, and I think it is that the apostles intend, in the frequent turning
the eyes of saints about to the accursed state of the world, partly
consolation, and partly some provocation to suitable walking. Things that
are opposite are best known by comparison one with another, each of them
cast abroad a light to see the other by. Therefore it is that the apostles
do frequently remind the converted Gentiles of the wretched estate the
world ties into, and themselves once were into. You see it, 1 Cor. vi. 11,
“And such were some of you, but now you are washed.” And, Eph. ii. 1, “You
who were dead in sins hath he quickened.” There is not any thing will more
commend unto a Christian the grace of God towards him, nor(192) to look
abroad round about him, and take a view of the whole world lying in
wickedness, and then to look backward to what himself once was, and
compare it with what the free grace of God hath made him. O what a soul
ravishing contemplation is that, 1 John v. 19, “And we know that we are of
God, and the whole world lieth in wickedness.” How doth this heighten the
price of grace, and how much doth it add to a soul’s inward contentment,
to think what it was of itself, and what it would undoubtedly have been,
if not thus wonderfully surprised! One used always to look to those below
him, that he might not envy those above him. Truly it might do well here,
when a Christian is grieved and disquieted, because he hath not attained
to that desired measure of the image of God, and fellowship with him, to
cast a look about him to the miserable and hopeless estate of so many
thousands who have the image of Satan so visibly engraven on them, and
have no inward stirring after this blessed image, and reflect a little
backward, to the hole of the pit whence he was taken, to look upon that
primitive estate that grace found him into, so loathsome, as described in
Ezek. xvi. Would not such a double sight, think you, make him break out in
admiration, and be powerful to silence and compose his spirit? O to think,
that I was once in that black roll of those excluded from the kingdom!
“Such were some of you,” and then to consider, that my name was taken out,
and washed by the blood of Christ to be enrolled in the register of
heaven. What an astonishing thing is it! You see in nature, God hath
appointed contrarieties and varieties to beautify the world, and
certainly, many things could not be known how good and beneficial they
are, but by the smart and hurt of that which is opposite in them, as ye
could not imagine the good of light, but by some sensible experience of
the evil of darkness. Heat, you could not know the benefit of it, but by
the vexation of cold. Thus he maketh one to commend another, and both to
beautify the world. It is thus in art, contrariety and variety of colours
and lines make up one beauty, diversity of sounds make a sweet harmony.
Now, this is the art and wisdom of God, in the dispensation of his grace
he setteth the misery of some beside the happiness of others, that each of
them may aggravate another, he puts light beside darkness, spirit
fore-against(193) flesh, that so saints may have a double accession to
their admiration at the goodness and grace of God, and to their delight
and complacency in their own happiness, he presents the state of men out
of Christ, that you may wonder how you are translated, and may be so
abundantly satisfied as not to exchange your portion for the greatest
monarchs.
Then, I say, this may provoke us, and persuade us to more suitable
walking. Doth he make such a difference? O do not you unmake it again! Do
not confound all again, by your walking after the course of the world.
Conformity to the world is a confusion of what God hath separated. Has
infinite grace translated you from that kingdom of darkness to light? O
then walk in that light, as children of light! Are you such? Own your
stations, consider your relations, and make yourselves ashamed at the very
thoughts of sin. He points out the deformed and ugly face of the
conversation of the world, that you may fall in love with the beauty or
holiness, as the Lacedemonians were wont to let their children see their
slaves drunk, that the brutish and abominable posture of such in that sin
might imprint in the hearts of their children a detestation of such a
vice. Certainly, the Lord calls you to mind often what you have been, and
what the world about you is, not to engage you to it, but to alienate your
minds from the deformity of sin, and to commend to you the duty of
obedience. You would learn to make this holy use and advantage of all the
wickedness the world lieth into, to behold in it, as in a glass, your own
image and likeness, that when you use to hate or despise others, you may
rather loathe and dislike yourselves, as having that same common nature,
and wonder at the goodness of God that makes such difference where none
was. This were the way to make gain of the most unprofitable thing in the
world, that is, the sins of other men, for ordinarily the seeing and
speaking of them doth rather dispose us and incline us to more liberty to
sin. Many look on them with delight, some with contempt and hatred of
those that commit them, but few know how to speak or look on sin itself
with indignation, or themselves, because of the seeds of it within them,
with abhorrency. I would think if we were circumspect in this, the worse
the world is, we might be the better, the worse the times are, we might
spend it better, the more pride we see, it might make us the more humble,
the more impiety and impurity abound, it might provoke us to a further
distance from, and disconformity with, the world. Thus, if we were wise,
we might extract gold out of the dunghill, and suck honey out of the most
poisonable weed. The surrounding ignorance and wickedness of the world
might cause a holy antiperistasis(194) in a Christian, by making the grace
of God unite itself, and work more powerfully, as fire out of a cloud, and
shine more brightly, as a torch in the darkness of the night.
As for you, whose woful estate is here described, who are yet in the
flesh, and enemies to God by nature, I would desire you to be stirred up
at the consideration of this, that there are some who are delivered out of
that prison, and that some have made peace with God, and are no more
enemies but friends, and fellow citizens of the saints. If the case were
left wholly incurable and desperate, you had some ground to continue in
your sins and security, but now when you hear a remedy is possible, and
some have been helped by it, I wonder that you do not, upon this door of
hope offered, bestir yourselves, that you may be those who are here
excepted, “but you are not in the flesh.” Since some are, why may not I
be? Will you awake yourselves with this alarm! If you had any desire after
this estate, certainly such a hope as this would give you feet to come to
Jesus Christ, for these are the legs of the soul,—some desire of a better
estate, and some probability of it conceived by hope.
Sermon XXIV.
Verse 9.—“If so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any
man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.”
“But will God in very deed dwell with men on the earth?” 2 Chron. vi. 18.
It was the wonder of one of the wisest of men, and indeed, considering his
infinite highness above the height of heavens, his immense and
incomprehensible greatness, that the heaven of heavens cannot contain him,
and then the baseness, emptiness, and worthlessness of man, it may be a
wonder to the wisest of angels. And what is it, think you, the angels
desire to look into, but this incomprehensible mystery of the descent of
the Most High to dwell among the lowest and vilest of the creatures? But
as Solomon’s temple, and these visible symbols of God’s presence, were but
shadows of things to come, the substance whereof is exhibited under the
gospel, so that wonder was but a shadow or type of a greater and more real
wonder, or God’s dwelling on the earth now. It was the wonder, shall God
dwell with man, among the rebellious sons of Adam? But behold a greater
wonder since Christ came, God dwelling in man, first personally in the man
Christ, in whom the fulness of the Godhead dwelt bodily, then graciously
in the seed of Christ, in man by his Spirit, and this makes men spiritual,
if so be the Spirit of Christ dwell in you. You heard of the first
indwelling, ver. 3. “God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful
flesh,” the inhabitation of the divine nature in our flesh, which had the
likeness of sinful flesh, but without sin, for he sanctified himself for
our cause. And truly, this mysterious and wonderful inhabitation is not
only a pledge of the other, that God shall dwell in sinful men by his
Spirit, but, in order of nature, it hath some influence upon the other,
without which God could not have dwelt in us. There is so much distance
and disproportion between his Majesty and us, that we could not be well
united, but by this intervening, God coming down first a step into the
holy nature of the man Christ, that from thence he might go into the
sinful nature of other men. Our sinful and rebellious nature behoved to be
first sanctified this way, by the personal indwelling of God in our flesh,
and this had made an easy passage into sinful us, for his Spirit to dwell
in us powerfully and graciously, therefore the Spirit of Christ is said to
dwell in us. Christ’s Spirit, not only because proceeding from him as from
the Father, but particularly, because the inhabitation or operation of the
Spirit in us, is the proper result and fruit of that glorious union of our
nature with him. He took our flesh, that he might send us his Spirit. And,
O what a blessed exchange was this! He came and dwelt in our nature, that
so he might dwell in us: he took up a shop, as it were, in our flesh, that
he might work in us, and make us again conformed to God.
We shall not cut this asunder into many parts. You see the words contain
plainly the very essential definition of a spiritual man, and of a
Christian. You find a spiritual man and a Christian equivalent in this
verse, that is to say, they are taken for one and the self same thing, and
so they are reciprocal, of equal extent and restraint. Every Christian is
one after the Spirit, and whosoever is after the Spirit is a Christian.
One of Christ’s, and one after the Spirit, is one thing. Now the
definition of the Christian is taken from that which really and
essentially constitutes him such. He is one in whom the Spirit of Christ
dwells, that makes him one after the Spirit, that makes him one of
Christ’s, because it is the Spirit of Christ. As if you define what a man
is, you could not do it better than thus: he is one endowed with a
reasonable soul. So the apostle gives you the very soul and form of a
Christian, which differenceth from all others. As the soul is to the body
to make up a man, so the Spirit of Christ is to the soul and Spirit of a
man to make up a Christian, as the absence or presence of the soul makes
or unmakes a man, so the absence or presence of this Spirit makes or
unmakes a Christian, for you see he makes it reciprocal. If you be
Christians, the Spirit dwells in you, but if the Spirit dwell not in you,
you are not Christians.
A word then to the first of these, that a Christian and a spiritual man
are commensurable one to another. It is true, there are Jews who are not
Jews inwardly, but only according to the letter, Rom. ii. 28, 29. And so
there are Christians so called, who are but so outwardly, and in the
letter, who have no more of it but the name and visible standing in the
church, but we are speaking of that which is truly that which it is
called, whose praise is not of men but of God. The name of a man may be
extended to a picture or image, for some outward resemblance it hath of
him, but it is not a proper speech, no more is it proper to extend the
name of Christians unto the pictures or images of Christians, such as are
destitute of this inward life. You may be properly, according to scripture
phrase, members of the visible body, but you cannot have that real and
blessed relation to Jesus Christ the head, which shall be the source of
happiness to all the living members. I wish you would take it so, and
flatter yourselves no more with church titles, as if these were sufficient
evidences for your salvation. You would all be called Christians, but it
fears me you know not many of you the true meaning and signification of
that word, the most comfortable sense of it is hid from you. The meaning
of it is, that a man is renewed by Christ in the spirit of his mind. As
Christ and the Spirit are inseparable, so a Christian and a spiritual
nature are not to be found severed. Certainly, the very sound of the name
whereby you are called, imports another nature and conversation than is to
be found in many; you cannot say, that you have a shadow of spirituality,
either in your affections or actions, or that you have any real design and
study that way but only to please your flesh, and satisfy the customs of
the world. Why do you then usurp the name of Christianity? This is a
common sacrilege, to give that which is holy unto dogs. Others give it to
you, and you take it to yourselves. But know, that though you please
yourselves and others in this, yet without such a renovation of your
natures, and such a sincere study to be inwardly and outwardly conformed
to the profession and nature of Christianity, you have not your praise of
God, and him whom God praises not, and allows not, he cannot bless for
ever. I am persuaded there are some who are not only in the letter, but in
the Spirit, whose greatest desire and design is to be indeed what they
profess, and such is their praise of God and if God praise them now, they
shall be made to praise him for ever hereafter; such are allowed to take
the name and honourable style of Christianity unto them. You are Christ’s
nearly interested in him, and if you be Christ’s own, he cannot be happy
without you, for such was his love, that he would not be happy alone in
heaven, but came down to be miserable with us. And now that he is again
happy in heaven, certainly he cannot enjoy it long alone, but he must draw
up his members unto the fellowship of that glory.
Now the other thing, that which gives even being to a Christian is, the
Spirit of Christ dwelling in him. Of this inhabitation, we shall not say
so much as the comparison, being strained, will yield, neither expatiate
into many notions about it. I wish rather we went home with some desires
kindled in us, after such a noble guest as the Holy Spirit is, and that we
were begun once to weary of the base and unclean guests that we lodge
within us, to our own destruction. That which I said that the Spirit is to
a Christian, what the soul is to a man, if well considered, might present
the absolute necessity and excellency of this unto your eyes. Consider
what a thing the body is without the soul, how defiled and how deformed a
piece of dust it is, void of all sense and life, loathsome to look upon.
Truly the soul of man by nature is in no better case till this Spirit
enter, it hath no light in it, no life in it, it is a dark dungeon, such
as is described, Eph. iv. 18, “Having the understanding darkened, being
alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them,
because of the blindness of their heart.” You have both in that word
darkness and deadness want of that shining light of God in the mind, so
that it cannot discern spiritual things that make to our eternal peace.
All the plainness and evidence of the gospel, though it did shine as a sun
about you, can not make you see or apprehend either your own misery or the
way to help it, because your dungeon is within, the most part cannot form
any sensible notion of spiritual things, that are duly sounding unto them
in the word. The eye of the mind is put out, and if it be darkness, how
great is that darkness! Certainly the whole man is without light, and your
way and walk must be in the dark, and indeed it appears that it is dark
night with many souls because if it were not dark, they could not run out
all their speed among pits and snares in the way to destruction. And from
this woful defect flows the alienation of the whole soul from the life of
God, that primitive light being eclipsed, the soul is separated from the
influence of heaven, and as Nebuchadnezzar’s soul acted only in a brutal
way, when driven out among beasts, so the soul of man, being driven out
from the presence of the Lord, may act in a way common to beasts, or in
some rational way in things that concern this life, but it is wholly
spoiled of that divine life of communion with God. It cannot taste, smell,
or savour such things. O! if it were visible unto us, the state or the
ruinous soul, we would raise a more bitter lamentation over it than the
Jews did over Jerusalem, or the kings and merchants have reason to do over
fallen Babylon. Truly, we might bemoan it thus, “How is the faithful city
become a harlot! righteousness lodged in it, but now murderers,” Isa. i.
21. Man was once the dwelling place of princely and divine graces and
virtues, the Lord himself was there, and then how comely and beautiful was
the soul! But now it is like the desolate cities, in which the beasts of
the desert lie and their houses are full of doleful creatures, where owls
dwell, and satyrs dance, where wild beasts cry, and dragons in the
pleasant places, Isa. xiii. 21, 22 and Jer. l. 39. So mighty is the fall
of the soul of man, as of Babylon, that it may be cried, “It is fallen,
and become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit,
and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird,” Rev. xviii. 2. All the
beasts flock now to it, all the birds of darkness take their lodging in
it, since this noble guest left it, and took away the light from it, for
the sun hath not shined on it since that day. All unclean affections, all
beastly lusts, all earthly desires, all vain cogitations get lodging in
this house; the Bethel is become a Bethaven, the house of God become a
house of vanity, by the continual repair of vain thoughts, the house of
prayer is turned into a den of thieves and robbers. That which was at
first created for the pure service and worship of God, is now a receptacle
of all the most rebellious and idolatrous thoughts and affections, the
heart of every man is become a temple full of idols.
This is the state of it, and worse than can be told you now, judge if
there be not need of a better guest than these. O what absolute necessity
is there of such a spirit as this, to repair and reform the ruinous spirit
of man, to quicken and enlighten the darkened mind of man! Even that
Spirit, that made it at first a glorious palace for God, that Spirit that
breathed the soul into the former clay, must repair these breaches, and
create all again. Now, when the Spirit of Christ enters into this vile
ruinous cottage, he repairs it and reforms it, he strikes out lights in
the heart, and, by a wonderful eye salve makes the eyes open to see; he
creates a new light within, which makes him behold the light shining in
the gospel, and behold all things are new, himself new, because now most
loathsome and vile the world new, because now appears nothing but vanity
in the very perfection of it, and God new, because another majesty, glory,
excellency, and beauty shines into the soul than ever it apprehended. And
as the Spirit enlightens, so he enlivens this tabernacle or temple, he
kindles a holy fire in his affections, which must never go out, it is such
as cannot be kindled, if it go out, but by the beams of the sun, as the
poets fancied the vestal-fire. The Spirit within the soul is a fire to
consume his corruption, to burn up his dross and vanity. Christ comes in
like a refiner, with the fire of the Spirit, and purges away earthly
lusts, and makes the love of the heart pure and clean, to burn upward
toward heaven. This Spirit makes a Christian soul move willingly toward
God, in the ways that seemed most unpleasant; it is an active principle
within him that cannot rest till it rests in its place of eternal rest and
delight in God. And then the Spirit reforms this house, by casting out all
these wild beasts that lodged in it, the savage and unruly affections,
that domineered in man, this strong man entering in, casts them out. There
is much rubbish in old waste palaces, Neh. iv. 2. O how much pains it is
to cleanse them! Our house is like the house of those nobles, Jer. v. 27:
“Full of deceit, as a cage is full of birds,” and our hearts full of
wickedness and vanity, Jer. iv. 14. Certainly it will be much labour to
get your unclean spirits cast out, that is the grosser and more palpable
lusts that reign in you, but when these are gone forth, yet there is much
wickedness and uncleanness in the heart, of a more subtle nature, and by
long indwelling, almost incorporated and mingled with the soul, and this
will not be gotten out with gentle sweeping, as was done, Luke xi. 25.
That takes away only the uppermost filth that lies loosest, but this must
be gotten out by much washing and cleansing, therefore the Spirit enters
by blood and water. There are idols in the heart, to which the soul is
much engaged; it unites and closes with them (Ezek. xxxvi.) and these must
be cleansed and washed out. There is much deceit in the heart, and this
lies closest to it and is engrossed into it, and indeed this will take the
help of fire to separate it, for that is of the most active nature to
separate things of a diverse nature, the Spirit must by these take out
your dross. And all this the Spirit will not do alone, but honours you
with the fellowship of this work, and therefore you must lay your account
that the operation and reformation of this house for so glorious a guest,
will be laborious in the mean time. But O how infinitely is that
compensated! One hour’s fellowship with him alone, when all strangers are
cast out, will compensate all, will make all to be forgotten, the pain of
mortification will be swallowed up in the pleasure of his inhabitation,
“When I shall awake I shall be satisfied with thy likeness.” When he shall
take up house fully in you, it will satisfy you to the full. In the
meantime as he takes the rule and command of your house so for the present
he provides for it, the provision of the soul is incumbent on this divine
guest, and O how sweet and satisfying is it? O the peace and joy of the
Holy Ghost, which are the entertainment that he gives a soul, where he
reigns, and hath brought in righteousness, Rom. xiv. 17. What a noble
train doth the Spirit bring alongst with him to furnish this house? Many
rich and costly ornaments hang over it, and adorn it to make it like the
king’s wife all glorious within; such as the ornament of a meek and quiet
spirit (1 Pet. iii. 4) which is a far more precious and rich hanging, than
the most curious or precious contexture of corruptible things, the
clothing of humility, simple in show, but rich in substance, (1 Pet. v. 5)
which enriches and beautifies the soul that hath it, more than all
Solomon’s glory could do his person; for “better is it to be of a humble
spirit with the lowly, than divide the spoil with the proud,” Prov. xvi.
19. In a word, the Spirit makes all new, puts a new man, a new fashion and
image on the soul, which suits the court of heaven, the highest in the
world, and is conformed to the noblest and highest pattern, the holiness
and beauty of the greatest King. And being lodged within, O what sweet
fruits is the Spirit daily bringing forth to feed and delight the soul
withal! Gal. v. 22, 23. And he is not only a Spirit of sanctification, but
of consolation too, and therefore of all the most worthy to be received
into our hearts, for he is a bosom comforter, John xiv. 16. When there is
no friend nor lover without, but a soul in that posture of Heman, Psal.
lxxxviii. 18, and in that desolate estate of the churches, Lament. i. 2,
“Among all her lovers she hath none to comfort her,” (ver. 17) “spreading
forth her hands, and none to comfort her,” (ver. 21) sighing, and none to
comfort her. In such a case to have a living and overrunning spring of
comfort within, when all external and lower consolations, like winter
brooks that dry up in summer, have dried up and disappointed thy
expectation, sure this were a happy guest, that could do this. O that we
could open our hearts to receive him!
Sermon XXV.
Verse 9.—“If so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any
man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.”
There is a great marriage spoken of, Eph. v. that hath a great mystery in
it, which the apostle propoundeth as the sample and archetype of all
marriages or rather as the substance, of which all conjunctions and
relations among the creatures are but the shadows. It is that marriage
between Christ and his church, for which, it would appear, this world was
builded, to be a palace to celebrate it into; and especially the upper
house, heaven, was made glorious for that great day, where it shall be
solemnized. The first in order of time was made by God himself in
paradise, certainly to represent a higher mystery, the marriage of the
second Adam with his spouse, which is taken out of his bloody side, as the
apostle imports, Eph. v. Now there is the greatest inequality and
disproportion between the parties, Christ and sinners; so that it would
seem a desperate matter to bring two such distant and unequal natures to
such a near union, as may cast a copy to all unions and relations of the
creatures. But he who at first made a kind of marriage between heaven and
earth, in the composure of man, and joined together an immortal spirit in
such a bond of amity with corruptible dust, hath found out the way to help
this, and make it feasible. And truly, we may conceive the Lord was but
making way for this greater mystery of the union of Christ with us, when
he joined the breath of heaven with the dust of the earth. In this he gave
some representation of another more mysterious conjunction. Now, the way
that the wisdom and love of God hath found out to bring about this
marriage, is this: because there was such an infinite distance between the
only begotten Son of God, who is the express character of his image, and
the brightness of his glory, and us sinful mortal creatures, whose
foundation is in the dust, therefore it pleased the Father, out of his
good will to the match, to send his Son down among men; and the Son, out
of his love, to take on our flesh, and so fill up that distance with his
low condescendence, to be partaker of flesh and blood with the children.
And now, what the Lord spoke of man fallen, in a holy kind of irony or
mock, “Behold he is become as one of us” that men may truly say of the Son
of God, not fallen down from heaven, but come down willingly, “Lo, he is
become as one of us;” like us in all things, except sin, which hath made
us unlike ourselves. This bond of union you have in verse 3. Christ so
infinitely above sinners, and higher than the heavens, coming down so low,
to be as like sinners as might be, or could be profitable for us, in the
likeness of sinful flesh, &c. But yet this bond is not near enough; that
conjunction seemeth but general and infirm; both because it is in some
manner common to all mankind who shall not be all advanced to this
privilege. By taking on our nature, he cometh nearer to human nature, but
not to some beyond others; and besides, the distance is not filled up this
way, because there is a great disproportion between that nature in Christ
and in us. In him it is holy and undefiled, and separated from sin; but in
us it is unclean and immersed into sin; so that, albeit he be nearer us as
a man, yet he is far distant and unlike us,—a holy perfect man. Now, what
fellowship can be between light and darkness, as Paul speaketh of the
marriage of Christians with idolaters? Much greater distance and
disagreement is between Christ and us. Therefore, it seemeth, that some of
us must be changed and transformed. But him it may not be. He cannot
become liker us than by partaking of our flesh; for if he had become a
sinner indeed, he would have become so like us that he could not help
himself nor us either. This would eclipse the glory and happiness of the
marriage. But in that he came as near as could be, without disabling
himself, to make us happy; and so he was contented to come in the place of
sinners, and take on their debt, and answer to God’s justice for it; yea,
and in his own person he submitted to be tempted to sin, though it had
been evil for us he had been overcome by it; yet this brings him a step
lower and nearer us, and maketh the union more hopeful. But since he can
come no lower, and can be made no liker us in the case we are in, then
certainly—if the match hold—we must become liker him, and raised up out of
our miserable estate, to some suitableness to his holy nature. And,
therefore, the love and wisdom of God, to fill up the distance completely,
and effectuate this happy conjunction, that the creation seemeth to groan
for,—for (ver. 22) the whole creation is pained till it be
accomplished,—he hath sent his blessed Spirit to dwell in us, and to
transform our natures, and make them partakers of the divine nature, (2
Pet. i. 4) as Christ was partaker of human nature; and thus the distance
shall be removed. When a blessed Spirit is made flesh, and a fleshly man
made spirit, then they are near the day of espousals; and this indwelling
of the Spirit is the last link of the chain that fastens us to Christ, and
maketh our flesh in some measure like his holy flesh. By taking on our
flesh, Christ became bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh; but the
union becometh mutual when we receive the Spirit, we become bone of his
bone, and flesh of his flesh, as it is expressed, Eph. v. 30, in allusion
to the creation of Eve, and her marriage to Adam. The ground of the
marriage is that near bond of union,—“Because she was taken out of man,”
and, therefore, because of his flesh and bone, she was made one flesh with
him. Even so the sinner must be partaker of the Spirit of Christ, as
Christ is partaker of the flesh of sinners, and these two concurring,
these two knots interchanging and woven through other, we become one flesh
with him. And this is a great mystery, indeed, to bring two who were so
far asunder, so near other. Yea, it is nearer than that too, for we are
said not only to be one flesh with Christ, but one spirit, 1 Cor. vi. 17.
“He that is joined unto the Lord is one spirit,” because he is animated
and quickened by one spirit,—that same spirit of Christ. And, indeed,
spirits are more capable of union, and more fit to embosom one with
another than bodies, therefore, the nearest union conceivable is the union
of spirits by affections, this maketh two souls one, for it transports
their spirit out of the body where it lives, and settleth it there where
it loveth.
Now, my beloved, you see what way this great marriage, that heaven and
earth are in a longing expectation after shall be brought about. Christ
did forsake his Fathers house when he left that holy habitation, his
Fathers bosom,—a place of marvellous delight, (Prov. viii. 30) and
descended into the lower parts of the earth (Eph. iv. 9) and, he came out
from the Father into the world, John xvi. 28. This was a great journey to
meet with poor sinners. But that there may be a full and entire meeting
you must leave and forsake your fathers house too, and forget your own
people, Psalm xlv. 10. You must give an entire renounce to all former
lovers if you would be his. All former bonds and engagements must be
broken, that this may be tied the faster. And, to hold to the subject in
hand, you must forsake and forget the flesh, and be possessed of his Holy
Spirit. As he came down to our flesh, you must rise up to meet him in the
spirit. The Spirit of Christ must indeed prevent you, and take you out of
that natural posture you are born into, and bring you a great journey from
yourselves, that you may be joined unto him.
This Spirit of Christ is his messenger and ambassador, sent beforehand to
fit you and suit you for the day of espousals, and, therefore, he must
have a dwelling and constant abode in you. This indwelling imports a
special familiar operation, and the perpetuity or continuance of it. The
Spirit is everywhere in his being, and he worketh everywhere too, but here
he hath a special and peculiar work in commission—to reveal the love of
God in Christ, to engage the soul to love him again, to prepare all within
for the great day of espousals, to purify and purge the heart from all
that is displeasing to Christ, to correspond between Christ and his
spouse, between heaven and earth by making intercession for her when she
cannot pray for herself as you find here, ver. 26, and so sending up the
news of the soul’s panting and breathing after Christ, sending up her
groans and sighs to her Beloved, giving intelligence of all her
necessities to him who is above, in the place of an advocate and
interceder, and then bring back from heaven light and life, direction from
her Head—for the Spirit must lead into all truth—and consolation, for
Christ hath appointed the Spirit to supply his absence, and to comfort the
soul in the mean time till he come again. You have this mutual and
reciprocal knot in 1 John iv. 13, “Hereby we know that we dwell in him,
and he in us, by the Spirit that he hath given.” It is much nearness to
dwell one with another, but much greater to dwell one in another. And it
is reciprocal, such a wonderful interchange in it, we in him, and he in
us, for the Spirit carries the soul to heaven, and brings Christ, as it
were down to the earth. He is the messenger that carries letters between
both—our prayers to him, and his prayers for us and love tokens to us, the
anointing that teacheth us all things, from our Husband, (1 John ii. 27,)
and revealing to us the things of God, (1 Cor. ii. 12.) giving us the
first fruits of that happy and glorious communion we must have with Christ
in heaven as you see, verse 23 of this chapter, and sealing us to the day
of redemption, 1 Pet. i. 13, and iv. 30, supplying us with divine power
against our spiritual enemies, fetching along from heaven that strength
whereby our Lord and Saviour overcame all, Eph. ii. 16, Gal v. 17. This is
a presence that few have, such a familiar and love-abode. But, certainly,
all that are Christ’s must have it in some measure. Now whosoever hath it,
it is perpetual, the Spirit dwells in them. It is not a sojourning for a
season, not a lodging for a night,—as some have fits and starts of seeking
God, and some transient motions of conviction or joy, but return again to
the puddle, these go through them as lightning, and do not warm them or
change them but this is a constant residence; where the Spirit takes up
house he will dwell, “he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you,” and
abide for ever, John xiv. 16, 17. If the Son abide in the house for ever,
(John viii. 35) much more the master of the house must abide. Now, the
Spirit where he dwells hath gotten the command of that house, all the
power is put in his hand and resigned to him, for where he dwells he must
rule, as good reason is. He is about the greatest work that is now to do
in the world, the repairing and renewing of the ruins and breaches of
man’s spirit, which was the first breach in the creation, and the cause of
all the rest. He is about the cleansing and washing this temple, and we
may be persuaded, that he who hath begun this good work, will perform it
until the day of Christ, till we be presented blameless and without spot
to our Husband (Phil. i. 5, 6), and this is the grand consolation of
believers that they have this presence assured to them by promise, that
the Spirit is fixed here by an irrevocable and unchangeable covenant or
donation, and will not wholly depart from them, though he may withdraw and
leave you comfortless for a season, Isa. lix. 21.
Therefore I would shut up all in a word of exhortation to you, that since
we have the promise of so noble and happy a guest, you would apply
yourselves to seek him, and then keep him, to receive him and then retain
him. It is true that he must first prevent us, for as no man can say,
“that Jesus is the Christ, but by the Spirit of God,” so no man can indeed
pray for the Spirit, but by the Spirit’s own intercession within him.
Where God hath bestowed any thing of this Spirit, it is known by the
kindly and fervent desires after more of it. Now, since we have such a
large and ample promise (Ezek. xxxvi. 27, Joel ii. 28) of the pouring out
of the Spirit, and that in as absolute and free a manner as can be
imagined, and this renewed by Christ, and confirmed by his prayer to the
Father for the performance of it, (John xiv. 16, 17) and then we have a
sweet and affectionate promise propounded in the most moving and loving
manner than can be, Luke xi. 13, where he encourageth us to pray for the
Spirit and that from this ground, that our heavenly Father, who placed
that natural affection in other fathers toward their children, whereby
they cannot refuse them bread when they cry for it, he, who was the author
of all natural affection, must certainly transcend them infinitely in his
love to his children, as the Psalmist argues, “Shall not he that planted
the ear, hear? and he that formed the eye, see?” So may a poor soul reason
itself to some confidence, shall not he who is the fountain of all natural
love to men and beasts have much more himself? And if my father will not
give me a stone when I seek bread, certainly he will far less do it,
therefore, “if we being evil, know how to give good things to our
children, how much more shall our heavenly Father give his Spirit to them
that ask him?” Alas that we should want such a gift for not asking it! My
beloved, let us enlarge our desires for this Spirit, and seek more
earnestly, and no doubt affection and importunity will not be sent away
empty. Is it any wonder we receive not, because we ask not, or we ask so
coldly, that we teach him in a manner to deny us, _qui timide rogat_, I
may say, _frigide, docet negare_. Ask frequently, and ask confidently, and
his heart cannot deny. O that we could lay this engagement on our own
hearts to be more in prayer! Let us press ourselves to this and we need
not press him. Albeit the first grace be wholly a surprisal, yet certainly
he keeps this suitable method in the enlargements of grace, that when he
gives more, he enlargeth the heart more after it, he openeth the mouth
wider to ask and receive, and, according to that capacity, so is his hand
open to fill the heart. O, why are our hearts shut when his hand is open!
Again, I would exhort you in Jesus Christ, to entertain the Spirit
suitably, and this shall keep him. To this purpose are these exhortations
“Grieve not the Holy Spirit,” Eph. iv. 30, and “Quench not the Spirit,” 1
Thess. v. 19. There is nothing can grieve him but sin, and if you
entertain that, you cannot retain him. He is a Spirit of holiness and he
is about the making you holy, then do not mar him in his work, labour to
advance this and ye do him a pleasure. If you make his holy temple an
unclean cage for hateful birds, or a temple for idols, how can it but
grieve him? And if you grieve the Spirit, certainly the Spirit will grieve
you, will make you repent it at the heart. Please him, by hearkening to
his motions, and following his direction, and he shall comfort you. His
office is to be a spring of consolation to you, but if you grieve him by
walking in the imagination of your hearts, and following the suggestions
of the flesh,—his enemy,—no doubt that spring will turn its channel
another way, and dry up for a season toward you. It is not every sin or
infirmity that grieves him thus, if so be that it grieve thee; but the
entertaining of any sin, and making peace with any of his enemies, that
cannot but displease him: and, O what loss you have by it! You displease
your greatest friend, to please your greatest enemy, you blot and
bludder(195) that seal of the Spirit, that you shall not be able to read
it, till it be cleansed and washed again. Now, “if any man have not the
Spirit of Christ, he is none of his,” he is not a Christian. Take this
along with you, who aim at nothing but the external and outward show or
visible standing in the church. If you have not this Spirit, and the seal
of this Spirit, found on you, Christ will not know you for his in that day
of his appearing.
Sermon XXVI.
Verse 10.—“And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of
sin; but the Spirit is life because of righteousness.”
God’s presence is his working. His presence in a soul by his Spirit is his
working in such a soul in some special manner, not common to all men, but
peculiar to them whom he hath chosen. Now his dwelling is nothing else but
a continued, familiar and endless working in a soul, till he hath
conformed all within to the image of his Son. The soul is the office
house, or workhouse, that the Spirit hath taken up, to frame in it the
most curious piece of the whole creation, even to restore and repair that
masterpiece, which came last from God’s hand, _ab ultima manu_, and so was
the chiefest. I mean, the image of God, in righteousness and holiness.
Now, this is the bond of union between God and us: Christ is the bond of
union with God, but the Spirit is the bond of union with Christ. Christ is
the peace between God and us, that makes of two one, but the Spirit is the
link between Christ and us, whereby he hath immediate and actual interest
in us, and we in him. I find the union between Christ and soul shadowed
out in scripture, by the nearest relations among creatures, (for truly
these are but shadows, and that is the body or substance,) and because an
union that is mutual is nearest, it is often so expressed, as it imports
an interchangeable relation, a reciprocal conjunction with Christ. The
knot is cast on both sides to make it strong. Christ in us, and we in him;
God dwelling in us, and we in him, and both by this one Spirit, 1 John iv.
13. “Hereby we know that God dwelleth in us, and we in him, by his Spirit
which he hath given us.” You find it often in John, who being most
possessed with the love of Christ, and most sensible of his love could
best express it: “I in them, and they in me. He that keepeth his commands
dwelleth in him, and he in him,” as the names of married persons are
spelled through other, so doth he spell out this indwelling; it is not
cohabitation but inhabitation: neither that alone singly, but mutual
inhabitation, which amounts to a kind of penetration, the most intimate
and immediate presence imaginable. Christ dwelleth in our hearts by faith;
and we dwell in Christ by love, Eph. iii. 17 , and 1 John iv. Death
bringeth him into the heart; for it is the very application of a Saviour
to a sinful soul. It is the very applying of his blood and sufferings to
the wound that sin made in the conscience; the laying of that sacrifice
propitiatory to the wounded conscience, is that which heals it, pacifies
it, and calms it. A Christian, by receiving the offer of the gospel
cordially and affectionately brings in Christ offered into his house, and
then salvation comes with him. Therefore believing is receiving, (John i.)
the very opening of the heart to let in an offered Saviour; and then
Christ, thus possessing the heart by faith, he works by love, and “he that
dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and God in him.” Love hath this special
value in it, that it transports the soul in a manner out of itself to the
Beloved, Cant. iv. 9. _Anima est ubi amat, non ubi animat_;(196) the
fixing and establishing of the heart on God is a dwelling in him; for the
constant and most continued residence of the most serious thoughts and
affections, will be their dwelling in their all-fulness and riches of
grace in Jesus Christ. As the Spirit dwelleth where he worketh, so the
soul dwelleth where it delighteth; its complacency in God making a
frequent issue or outgoing to him in desires and breathings after him; and
by means of this same, God dwelleth in the heart, for love is the opening
up of the inmost chamber of the heart to him, it brings in the Beloved
into the very secrets of the soul, to lie all night betwixt his breasts as
a bundle of myrrh, Cant. i. 13. And indeed all the sweet odours of holy
duties, and all the performing of good works and edifying speeches, spring
out only, and are sent forth, from this bundle of myrrh that lies betwixt
the breasts of a Christian, in the inmost of his heart, from Christ
dwelling in the affections of the soul.
Now, this being the bond of union betwixt Christ and us, it follows,
necessarily, that whosoever hath not the Spirit of Christ, “he is none of
his;” and this is subjoined for prevention or removal of the
misapprehensions and delusions of men in their self-judgings; because
self-love blinds our eyes, and maketh our hearts deceive themselves. We
are given to this self-flattery,—to pretend and claim to an interest in
Jesus Christ, even though there be no more evidence for it than the
external relation that we have to Christ, as members of his visible body,
or partakers of a common influence of his Spirit. There are some external
bonds and ties to Christ, which are like a knot that may easily be loosed
if any thing get hold of the end of it; as by our relations to Christ by
baptism, hearing the word, your outward covenanting to be his people; all
these are loose unsure knots; it is as easy to untie them as to tie them,
yea, and more easy; and yet many have no other relation to Christ than
what these make. But it is only the Spirit of Christ given to us that
entitles and interesteth us in him, and him in us. It is the Spirit
working in your souls mightily and continually, making your hearts temples
for the offering of the sacrifice of prayer and praises, casting out all
idols out of these temples, that he alone may be adored and worshipped, by
the affectionate service of the heart, purging them from all filthiness of
flesh and spirit. It is the Spirit, I say, thus dwelling in men that
maketh them living members of the true body of Christ, lively, joined to
the Head,—Christ. This maketh him yours and you his; by virtue of this he
may command you as his own, and you may use and employ him as your own.
Now, for want of this, in most part of men, they also want this living
saving interest in Christ. They have no real but an imaginary and notional
propriety and right to the Lord Jesus; for Christ must first take
possession of us by his Spirit before we have any true right to him, or
can willingly resign ourselves to him, and give him right over us. What
shall it profit us, my beloved, to be called Christians, and to esteem
ourselves so, if, really, we be none of Christ’s? Shall it not heighten
our condemnation so much the more that we desire to pass for such and give
out ourselves so, and yet have no inward acquaintance and interest in him
whose name we love to bear? Are not the most part shadows and pictures of
true Christians, bodies without the soul of Christianity, that is, the
Spirit of Christ, whose hearts are treasures of wickedness and deceit, and
storehouses of iniquity and ignorance? It may be known what treasure fills
the heart by that which is the constant and common vent of it, as our
Saviour speaks, Matt. xv. 19; and xii. 34, 35, “Out of the abundance of
the heart the mouth speaketh,” the feet walk, and the hand works.
Consider, then, if the Spirit of God dwelleth in such unclean habitations
and dark dungeons; certainly no uncleanness or darkness of the house can
hinder him to come in; but it is a sure argument and evidence that he is
not as yet come in, because the prince of darkness is not yet cast out of
many souls, nor yet the unclean spirits that lodge within; these haunt
your hearts, and are as familiar now as ever. Sure I am, many souls have
never yet changed their guests, and it is as sure that the first guest
that taketh up the soul is darkness and desperate wickedness, with
unparalleled deceitfulness. There is an accursed trinity, instead of that
blessed Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit; and when this
holy Trinity cometh in to dwell, that other of hell must go out. Now, my
beloved, do you think this a light matter, to be disowned by Jesus Christ?
Truly, the word of Christ, which is the character of all our evidences and
rights for heaven, disowns many as bastards and dead members, withered
branches, and, certainly, according to this word he will judge you, “the
word that I have spoken shall judge you in the last day.” O that is a
heavy word! You have the very rule and method of proceeding laid down
before you now, which shall be punctually kept at that great day. Now, why
do you not read your ditty(197) and condemnatory sentence here registered?
If you do not read it now in your consciences, he will one day read it
before men and angels, and pronounce this,—I know you not for mine, you
are none of mine. But if you would now take it to your hearts, there might
be hope that it should go no further, and come to no more public-hearing,
there were hope that it should be repealed before that day, because the
first entry of the Spirit of Christ is to convince men of sin, that they
are unbelievers, and without God in the world, and if this were done, then
it were more easy to convince you of Christ’s righteousness, and persuade
you to embrace it, and this would lead in another link of the chain,—the
conviction of judgment, to persuade you to resign yourselves to the
Spirit’s rule, and renounce the kingdom of Satan; this were another
trinity, a trinity upon earth, three bearing witness on the earth that you
have the Spirit of God.
Verse 10.—“And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of
sin,” &c.
All the preceding verses seem to be purposely set down by the apostle for
the comfort of Christians against the remnants of sin and corruption
within them, for in the preceding chapter, he personates the whole body of
Christ militant, showing, in his own example, how much sin remains in the
holiest in this life, and this he rather instances in his own person than
another that all may know that matter of continual sorrow and lamentation
is furnished to the chiefest of saints, and yet, in this chapter, he
propounds the consolation of Christians more generally, that all may know
that these privileges and immunities belong even to the meanest and
weakest of Christians,—that, as the best have reason to mourn in
themselves, so the worst want not reason to rejoice in Jesus Christ. And
this should always be minded that the amplest grounds of the strongest
consolation are general to all that come indeed to Jesus Christ, and are
not restricted unto saints of such and such a growth and stature. The
common principles of the gospel are more full of this milk of consolation,
if you would suck it out of them, than many particular grounds which you
are laying down for yourselves. God hath so disposed and contrived the
work of our salvation, that in this life he that hath gathered much, in
some respect, hath nothing over—that is to say, hath no more reason to
boast than another, but will be constrained to sit down and mourn over his
own evil heart, and the emptiness of it, and he that hath gathered less
hath, in some sense, no want. I mean, he is not excluded and shut out from
the right to these glorious privileges which may express gloriation and
rejoicing from the heart, that there might be an equality in the body, he
maketh the stronger Christian to partake with the weaker in his bitter
things, and the weaker with the stronger in his sweet things, that none of
them may conceive themselves either despised, or alone regarded, that the
eunuch may not have reason to say, “I am a dry tree,” Isa. lvi. 3. For,
behold the Lord will give, even to such, “a place” in his house, and “a
name better than of sons and daughters.” The soul that is in sincerity
aiming at this walk, and whose inward desires stir after more of this Holy
Spirit, he will not refuse to such that name and esteem that they dare not
take to themselves because of their seen and felt unworthiness. Now, in
this verse he proceeds further to the fruits and effects of sin dwelling
in us, to enlarge the consolation against that too. Now, If Christ be in
you, the body, &c. Seeing the word of God hath made such a connection
between sin and death, and death is the wages of sin, and that which is
the just recompense of enmity and rebellion against God, the poor troubled
soul might be ready to conceive that if the body be adjudged to death for
sin, that the rest of the wages shall be paid, and sin having so much
dominion as to kill the body, that it should exerce(198) its full power to
destroy all. Seeing we have a visible character of the curse of God
engraven on us in the mortality of our bodies, it may look with such a
visage on a soul troubled for sin, as if it were but earnest of the full
curse and weight of wrath, and that sin were not fully satisfied for, nor
justice fully contented by, Christ’s ransom. Now, he opposes to this
misconception the strongest ground of consolation—if Christ be in you,
though your bodies must die for sin, because sin dwelleth in them, yet
that Spirit of life that is in you hath begun eternal life in your souls,
your spirits are not only immortal in being, but that eternal happy being
is begun in you, the seeds of it are cast into your souls, and shall
certainly grow up to perfection of holiness and happiness, and this
through the righteousness of Christ which assureth that state unto you.
The comfort is, it is neither total, for it is only the death of your
body, nor is it perpetual, for your bodies shall be raised again to life
eternal, verse 11. And not only is it only in part, and for a season, but
it is for a blessed end and purpose it is that sin may be wholly cleansed
out that this tabernacle is taken down, as the leprous houses(199) were to
be taken down under the law, and as now we use to cast down pest lodges,
the better to cleanse them of the infection. It is not to prejudge him of
life, but to install him in a better life. Thus you see that it is neither
total nor perpetual, but it is medicinal and profitable to the soul,—it is
but the death of the body for a moment, and the life of the soul for ever.
Sermon XXVII.
Verse 10.—“And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because sin,”
&c.
This is the high excellence of the Christian religion, that it contains
the most absolute precepts for a holy life, and the greatest comforts in
death, for from these two the truth and excellency of religion is to be
measured, if it have the highest and perfectest rule of walking, and the
chiefest comfort withal. Now, the perfection of Christianity you saw in
the rule, how spiritual it is, how reasonable, how divine, how free from
all corrupt mixture, how transcending all the most exquisite precepts and
laws of men, deriving a holy conversation from the highest fountain, the
Spirit of Christ, and conforming it to the highest pattern, the will of
God. And, indeed, in the first word of this verse, there is something of
the excellent nature of Christianity holden out, “if Christ be in you,”
which is the true description of a Christian,—one in whom Christ is, which
imports the divine principle and the spiritual subject of Christianity.
The principle is Christ in a man,—Christ by his Spirit dwelling in him.
This great apostle knew this well in his own experience, and, therefore,
he can speak best in this style “I live, yet not I, but Christ in me,”
Gal. ii. 20 importing, that Christ and his Spirit is to the soul what the
soul is to the body,—that there is a living influence from heaven that
acts and moves the soul of a Christian as powerfully yet as sweetly and
pleasantly, as if it were the natural motion of the soul, and truly it is
the natural motion of the soul. It is that primitive life which was most
connatural to the soul of man, which sin did deprive us of. All the
powerful constraint and violence that Christ uses in drawing the souls of
men to him, and after him, is as kindly unto them, and perfects them as
much, as that impulse by which the soul moves and turns the body, a sweet
compulsion and blessed violence. Now this should make Christians often to
reflect upon another principle of their life than themselves, that by
looking on him, who is “the resurrection and the life,” who is “the true
vine,” and abiding in him by faith, their life may be continued and
increased. It is certainly much reflection on Him who is all in all, and
less upon ourselves that maintains this life, and, therefore, the most
part of men being wholly strangers to this, whether in their purposes or
practices, or judgings of both, unacquainted with any higher look in
religion than they use in their natural and civil actings, it doth give
ground to assure us that they are strangers,—alienated from the life of
God,—without God, and without Christ in the world.
But then the spiritual subject of Christianity is here, Christ in you not
Christ without you, in ordinances, in profession, in some civil carriage
but Christ within the heart of a man,—that is a Christian. It is the
receiving of Christ into the soul, and putting him on upon the inner man,
and renewing it, that makes a Christian, not being externally clothed with
him, or compassed about with him, in the administration of the ordinances.
It fears me, most part of us who bear the name of Christianity, have no
character of it within if we were looked and searched. Many are like the
sepulchres Christ speaks of,—without, painted and fair,—within, no thing
but rottenness and dead bones. What have many of you more of Christ than
what a blind man hath of light? It is round about him, but not within him.
The light hath sinned in darkness but your darkness cannot comprehend it.
You are environed with the outward appearances of Christ in his word and
ordinances, and that is all, but neither within you, nor upon many of you,
is there any thing either of his light or life. Not so much as any outward
profession or behaviour, suitable to the revelation of Christ, about you.
As if you were ashamed to be Christians, you maintain gross ignorance, and
practise manifest rebellion against his known will in the very light of
the gospel. How few have so much tincture of Christ, so much as to colour
the external man, or to clothe it with any blamelessness of walking or
form of religion! How few are so much as Christians in the letter! For you
are not acquainted either with letter or spirit,—either with knowledge or
affection or practice. But suppose that some have put on Christ on their
outward man and colour over themselves with some performances of religious
duties, and smooth themselves with civility in carriage, yet alas! how few
are they who are renewed in the spirit of their mind, and have put on
Christ in their inward man, who have opened the secrets of their hearts,
and received him to “lie all night between their breasts.” How few are
busied about their hearts, to have any new impression and dye upon their
affections,—to mould them after a new manner,—to kill the love of this
world and the lusts of it,—and cast out the rottenness and superfluity of
naughtiness which abides within! But some there are who are persuaded thus
to do to give up their spirits to religion, and all their business and
care is, to have Christ within, as well as without. Now, if the rest of
you will not be persuaded to be of this number, consider what you prejudge
yourselves of, of all the comfort of religion, and then religion is no
religion, and to no purpose, if you have no benefit by it. And certainly,
except Christ be in you as a King to rule you, and a Prophet to teach
you,—to subdue your lusts, and dispel your darkness, when he appears, he
cannot appear to your comfort and salvation. You are deprived of this
great cordial against death, and death must seize upon all that is within
you, soul and body, since Christ the Spirit of life is not within you.
Happiness without you will not make you happy—salvation round about you
will not save you. If you would be saved, there must be a near and
immediate union with happiness. Christ in the heart, and salvation cometh
with him. A Christian is not only Christ without not imputing his sins to
him, clothing him with his righteousness but Christ within too, cleansing
the heart from the love of sin, “perfecting holiness in the fear of God.”
Do not think you have any share in Christ without you, except you receive
Christ within you, because Christ is one within and without, and his gifts
are undivided. Therefore true faith receives whole Christ as a complete
Saviour, even as he is entirely offered, so he is undividedly received as
he is without saving us, and within sanctifying us,—Christ without,
delivering from wrath—and Christ within, redeeming from all iniquity—these
cannot be parted more than his coat that had no seam. It is a heavy and
weighty word of this apostles, 2 Cor. xiii. 5: “Examine yourselves,
whether ye be in the faith know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus
Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates.” I wish you would lay it to
heart, who have never yet returned to your hearts. If Christ be not formed
in you, (as Gal. iv. 19,) you are as yet among the refuse, dross, and that
which must be burnt with fire. You cannot but be cast away in the day when
he makes up his jewels. Where Christ is he is the hope of glory,—he is an
immortal seed of glory. How can you hope for Christ, who have nothing of
him within you?
Now, the other touchstone of true religion is, the great comfort it
furnishes to the soul, and, of all comforts, the greatest is that which is
a cordial to the heart against the greatest fears and evils. Now,
certainly the matter of greatest fear is death, not so much because of
itself, but chiefly because of that eternity of unchangeable misery that
naturally it transmits them unto. Now, it is only the Christian religion
possessing the heart that arms a man completely against the fear either of
death itself, or the consequents of it. It giveth the most powerful
consolation, that not only overcometh the bitterness and taketh out the
sting of death, but changeth the nature of it so far as to make it the
matter of triumph and gloriation.
There is something here supposed, the worst that can befall a Christian,
it is the death of a part of him, and that the worst and ignoblest part
only, “the body is dead because of sin.” Then, that which is opposed by
way of comfort to counter-balance it, is, the life of his better and more
noble part. And, besides, we have the fountains both of that death and
this life,—man’s sin the cause of bodily death, Christ’s righteousness the
fountain of spiritual life.
Of death many have had sweet meditations, even among those that the light
of the word hath not shined upon, and, indeed, they may make us ashamed
who profess Christianity, and so the hope of the resurrection from the
dead, that they have accounted it only true wisdom and sound philosophy to
meditate often on death, and made it the very principal point of living
well to be always learning to die, and have applied their whole studies
that way, neglecting present things that are in the by, have given
themselves to search out some comfort against death, or from death. Yea,
some have so profited in this, that they have accounted death the greatest
good that can befall man, and persuaded others to think so.(200) Now, what
may we think of ourselves, who scarce apprehend mortality, especially
considering that we have the true fountain of it revealed to us, and the
true nature and consequents of it.
All men must needs know that death is the most universal king in the
world, that it reigns over all ages, sexes, conditions, nations and times,
though few be willing to entertain thoughts of it, yet sooner or later,
they must be constrained to give it lodging upon their eyelids, and suffer
it to storm the very strongest tower, the heart, and batter it down, and
break the strings of it, having no way either to fly from it or resist it.
Now, the consideration of the general inundation of death over all
mankind, and the certain approaching of it to every particular man’s door,
hath made many serious thoughts among the wise men of the world. But being
destitute of this heavenly light that shineth to us, they could not attain
to the original of it, but have conceived that it was a common tribute of
nature, and an universal law imposed upon all mankind by nature, having
the same reason that other mutations and changes among the creatures here
below have, and so have thought it no more a strange thing, than to see
other things dissolved in their elements. Now, indeed, seeing they could
apprehend no other bitter ingredient in it, it was no wonder that the
wisest of them could not fear it, but rather wait and expect it as a rest
from their labours, as the end of all their miseries.
But the Lord hath revealed unto us in his word the true cause of it, and
so the true nature of it. The true cause of it is sin,—“Sin entered into
the world, and death passed upon all, for that all have sinned,” Rom. v.
12. Man was created for another purpose, and upon other conditions, and a
law of perpetual life and eternal happiness was passed in his favour, he
abiding in the favour, and obeying the will of him that gave him life and
being. Now, sin interposing, and separating between man and God, loosing
that blessed knot of union and communion, it was this other law that
succeeded, as a suitable recompense, “thou shall die:” it is resolved, in
the council of heaven, that the union of man shall be dissolved, his soul
and body separated, in just recompense of the breaking the bond of union
with God. This is it that hath opened the sluice to let in an inundation
of misery upon mankind: this was the just occasion of that righteous but
terrible appointment, “It is appointed that all men once should die, and
after death come to judgment,” Heb. ix. 27; that since the body had
enticed the soul, and suggested unto it such unnatural and rebellious
motions of withdrawing from the blessed Fountain of life, to satisfy its
pleasure, the body should be under a sentence of deprivement and
forfeiture of that great benefit and privilege of life it had by the
soul’s indwelling, and condemned to return to its first base original,
“the dust,” and to be made a feast of worms, to lodge in the grave, and be
a subject of the greatest corruption and rottenness, because it became the
instrument, yea, the incitement of the soul to sin against that God that
had from heaven breathed a spirit into it, and exalted it above all the
dust or clay in the world. Now, my beloved, do we not get many
remembrances of our sins? Is not every day presenting our primitive
departure from God, our first separation from the Fountain of life by sin,
to our view, and in such sad and woful effects pointing out the
heinousness of sin? Do you not see men’s bodies every day dissolved, the
tabernacle of earth taken down, and the soul constrained to remove out of
it? But what influence hath it upon us, what do the multiplied funerals
work upon us? It may be, sorrow for our friends, but little or no
apprehension of our own mortality, and base impression of sin, that
separates our souls from God. Who is made sadly to reflect upon his
original, or to mind seriously that statute and appointment of heaven, “In
that day thou shalt die?” It is strange that all of us fear death, and few
are afraid of sin, that carries death in its bosom,—that we are so
unwilling to reap corruption in our bodies, and yet we are so earnest and
laborious in sowing to the flesh. Be not deceived, for you are daily
reaping what you have sown. And, O! that it were all the harvest; but
death is only the putting in of the sickle of vengeance, the first cut of
it: but, O! to think on what follows, would certainly restrain men, and
cool them in their fervent pursuits after sin!
Sermon XXVIII.
Verse 10.—“And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of
sin: but the Spirit is life because of righteousness.”
“The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law,” saith our
apostle, 1 Cor. xv. 56. These two concur to make man mortal, and these two
are the bitter ingredients of death. Sin procured it, and the law
appointed it, and God hath seen to the exact execution of that law in all
ages; for what man liveth and shall not taste of death? Two only escaped
the common lot, Enoch and Elias; for they pleased God, and God took them:
and, besides, it was for a pledge, that at the last day all shall not die,
but be changed. The true cause of death is sin, and the true nature of it
is penal, to be a punishment of sin: take away this relation to sin, and
death wants the sting. But, in its first appointment, and as it prevails
generally over men, _aculeata_(_201_)_ est mors_, it hath a sting that
pierceth deeper, and woundeth sorer than to the desolation of the body, it
goeth into the innermost parts of the soul, and woundeth that eternally.
The truth is, the death of the body is not either the first death or the
last death: it is rather placed in the middle between two deaths: and it
is the fruit of the first, and the root of the last. There is a death
immediately hath ensued upon sin, and it is the separation of the soul
from God, the Fountain of life and blessedness: and this is the death
often spoken of, “You who were dead in sins and trespasses,” &c. Eph. ii.
1. “Being past feeling,” and “alienated from the life of God,” Eph. iv.
18, 19. And truly this is worse in itself than the death of the body
simply, though not so sensible, because spiritual. The corruption of the
best part in man, in all reason, is worse than the corruption of his worst
part. But this death, which consists especially in the loss of that
blessed communion with God, which made the soul happy, cannot be found
till some new life enter, or else till the last death come, which adds
infinite pain to infinite loss. Now the death of the body succeeds this
soul’s death, and that is, the separation of the soul from the body, most
suitable, seeing the soul was turned from the Fountain-spirit to the body,
that the body should by his command return to dust, and be made the most
defiled piece of dust. Now, this were not so grievous, if it were not a
step to the death to come, and a degree of it introductive to it. But that
statute and appointment of heaven hath thus linked it, “after death comes
judgment:” because, the soul in the body would not be sensible of its
separation from God, but was wholly taken up with the body, neglecting and
miskenning(202) that infinite loss of God’s favour and face, therefore the
Lord commands it to go out of the body, that it may then be sensible of
its infinite loss of God, when it is separated from the body; that it may
then have leisure to reflect upon itself, and find its own surpassing
misery: and then indeed,—infinite pain and infinite loss
conjoined,—eternal banishment from the presence of that blessed Spirit,
and eternal torment within itself. These two concurring, what posture do
you think such a soul will be into? There are some earnest of this in this
life. When God reveals his terror, and sets men’s sins in order before
their face, O! how intolerable is it, and more insupportable than many
deaths. They that have been acquainted with it, have declared it. The
terrors of God are like poisonable arrows sunk into Job’s spirit, and
drinking up all the moisture of them. Such a spirit as is wounded with one
of these darts shot from heaven, who can bear it? Not the most patient and
most magnanimous spirit, that can sustain all other infirmities, Prov.
xviii. 14. Now, my beloved, if it be so now, while the soul is in the
body, drowned in it, what will be the case of the soul separated from the
body, when it shall be all one sense, to reflect and consider itself?
This is the sting of death indeed, worse than a thousand deaths to a soul
that apprehends it; and the less it is apprehended, the worse it is;
because it is the more certain, and must shortly be found, when there is
no brazen serpent to heal that sting. Now, what comfort have you provided
against this day? What way do you think to take out this sting? Truly,
there is no balm for it, no physician for it, but one; and that the
Christian only is acquainted with. He in whom Christ is, he hath this
sovereign antidote against the poison of death, he hath the very sting of
it taken out by Christ, death itself killed, and of a mortal enemy made
the kindest friend. And so he may triumph with the apostle, “O death,
where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God in
Jesus Christ, who giveth us the victory,” 1 Cor. xv. 55. The ground of his
triumph, and that which a Christian hath to oppose to all the sorrows and
pains and fears of death mustered against him, is threefold; one, that
death is not real; a second, that it is not total, even that which is; and
then, that it is not perpetual. This last is contained in the next verse,
the second expressed in this verse, and the first may be understood or
implied in it. That the nature of death is so far changed, that of a
punishment it is become a medicine, of a punishment for sin it is turned
into the last purgative of the soul from sin; and thus the sting of it is
taken away, that relation it did bear to the just wrath of God. And now as
to the body of a Christian under appointment to die for sin, that is, for
the death of sin, the eternal death of sin. Christ having come under the
power of death, hath gotten power over it, and spoiled it of its stinging
virtue. He hath taken away the poisonable ingredient of the curse, that it
can no more hurt them that are in him, and so it is not now vested with
that piercing and wounding notion of punishment. Though it be true that
sin was the first inlet of death, that it first opened the sluice to let
it enter and flow in upon mankind, yet that appointment of death is
renewed, and bears a relation to the destruction of sin, rather than the
punishment of the sinner, who is forgiven in Christ. And, O! how much
solid comfort is here, that the great reason of mortality that a Christian
is subject unto, is, that he may be made free of that which made him at
first mortal. Because sin hath taken such possession in this earthly
tabernacle, and is so strong a poison, that it hath infected all the
members, and by no purgation here made can be fully cleansed out, but
there are many secret corners it lurks into, and upon occasion vents
itself, therefore it hath pleased God, in his infinite goodness, to
continue the former appointment of death, but under a new and living
consideration, to take down this infected and defiled tabernacle, as the
houses of leprosy were taken down under the law, that so they might be the
better cleansed, and this is the last purification of the soul from sin.
And therefore, as one of the ancients said well, “That we might not be
eternally miserable, mercy hath made us mortal.” Justice hath made the
world mortal, that they might be eternally miserable, but to put an end to
this misery, Christ hath continued our mortality, else he would have
abolished death itself, if he had not meant to abolish sin by death. And
indeed, it would appear this is the reason why the world must be consumed
with fire at the last day, and new heavens and earth succeed in its room,
because, as the little house, the body, so the great house, the world, was
infected with this leprosy, and so subjoined to vanity and corruption
because of mans sin therefore, that there might be no remnant of mans
corruption, and no memorial of sin to interrupt his eternal joy, the Lord
will purify and change all,—all the members that were made instruments of
unrighteousness, all the creatures that were servants to man’s lusts. A
new form and fashion shall be put on all, that the body being restored,
may be a fit dwelling place for the purified soul, and the world renewed,
may be a fit house for righteous men. Thus you see, that death to a
Christian is not real death, for it is not the death of a Christian, but
the death of sin his greatest enemy, it is not a punishment, but the
enlargement of the soul.
Now, the next comfort is, that which is but partial, it is but the
dissolution of the lowest part in man, his body, so far from prejudging
the immortal life of his spirit it is rather the accomplishment of that.
Though the body must die, yet eternal life is begun already within the
soul, for the Spirit of Christ hath brought in life, the righteousness of
Christ hath purchased it, and the Spirit hath performed it, and applied it
to us. Not only there is an immortal being in a Christian that must
survive the dust (for that is common to all men), but there is a new life
begun in him, an immortal well being in joy and happiness, which only
deserves the name of life, that cometh never to its full perfection till
the bodily and earthly houses be taken down. If you consider seriously
what a new life a Christian is translated unto, by the operation of the
Holy Ghost, and the ministration of the word, it is then most active and
lively, when the soul is most retired from the body in meditation. The
new life of a Christian is most perfect in this life when it carrieth him
the furthest distance from his bodily senses, and is most abstracted from
all sensible engagements, as you heard, for indeed it restores the spirit
of a man to its native rule and dominion over the body, so that it is then
most perfect when it is most gathered within itself, and disengaged from
all external entanglements.
Now, certain it is, since the perfection of the soul in this life consists
in such a retirement from the body, that when it is wholly separated from
it then it is in the most absolute state of perfection, and its life acts
most purely and perfectly when it hath no body to communicate with, and to
entangle it either with its lusts or necessities. The Spirit is life, it
hath a life now which is then best when furthest from the body, and
therefore it cannot but be surpassing better when it is out of the body,
and all this is purchased by Christ’s righteousness. As man’s
disobedience made an end of his life, Christ’s obedience hath made our
life endless. He suffered death to sting him, and by this hath taken the
sting from it, and now, there is a new statute and appointment of heaven
published in the gospel, “whosoever believeth in him shall not perish, but
have eternal life.” Now indeed, this hath so entirely changed the nature
of death, that it hath now the most lovely and desirable aspect on a
Christian, that it is no longer an object of fear, but of desire,
amicable, not terrible unto him. Since there is no way to save the
passenger, but to let the vessel break, he will be content to have the
body splitted, that himself, that is his soul, may escape, for truly a
man’s soul is himself, the body is but an earthly tabernacle that must be
taken down, to let the inhabitant win out to come near his Lord. The body
is the prison house that he groans to have opened, that he may enjoy that
liberty of the sons of God. And now to a Christian, death is not properly
an object of patience, but of desire rather, “I desire to be dissolved and
be with Christ,” Phil. i. 23. He that hath but advanced little in
Christianity will be content to die, but because there is too much flesh,
he will desire to live. But a Christian that is riper in knowledge and
grace, will rather desire to die, and only be content to live. He will
exercise patience and submission about abiding here, but groanings and
pantings about removing hence, because he knoweth that there is no choice
between that bondage and this liberty.
Sermon XXIX.
Verse 10.—“And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of
sin, but the Spirit is life because of righteousness.”
It was the first curse and threatening wherein God thought fit to
comprehend all misery, “Thou shalt die the death in that day thou eatest.”
Though the sentence was not presently executed according to the letter,
yet from that day forward man was made mortal, and there seemeth to be
much mercy and goodness of God intervening to plead a delay of death
itself, that so the promise of life in the second Adam might come to the
first and his posterity, and they might be delivered from the second
death, though not from the first. Always we bear about the marks of sin
in our bodies to this day, and in so far the threatening taketh place,
that this life that we live in the body is become nothing else but a dying
life, the life that the ungodly shall live out of the body is a living
death, and either of these is worse than simple death or destruction of
being. The serious contemplation of the miseries of this life made wise
Solomon to praise the dead more than the living, contrary to the custom of
men, who rejoice at the birth of a man-child, and mourn at their death.
Yea, it pressed him further, to think them which have not at all been,
better than both, because they have not seen the evil under the sun. This
world is such a chaos, such a mass of miseries, that if men understood it
before they came into it, they would be far more loath to enter it, than
they are now afraid to go out of it. And truly we want not remembrances
and representations of our misery every day, in that children come weeping
into the world, as it were bewailing their own misfortune, that they were
brought forth to be sensible subjects of misery. And what is all our
life-time, but a repetition of sighs and groans, anxiety and satiety,
loathing and longing, dividing our spirits and our time between them? How
many deaths must we suffer before death come? For the absence or loss of
any thing much desired, is a separation no less grievous to the hearts of
men, than the parting of soul and body: for affection to temporal
perishing things, unites the soul so unto them, that there is no parting
without pain, no dissolution of that continuity without much vexation, and
yet the soul must suffer many such tortures in one day, because the things
are perishing in their own nature, and uncertain. What is sleep, which
devours the most part of our time, but the very image and picture of
death, a visible and daily representation of the long cessation of the
sensitive life in the grave? And yet, truly, it is the best and most
innocent part of our time, though we accuse it often. There is both less
sin and less misery in it, for it is almost the only lineament and
refreshment we get in all our miseries. Job sought to assuage his grief
and ease his body, but it was the extremity of his misery that he could
not find it. Now, my beloved, when you find that which is called life
subject to so much misery that you are constrained often to desire you had
never been born, you find it a valley of tears, a house of mourning from
whence all true delight and solid happiness is banished. Seeing the very
officers and serjeants of death are continually surrounding us and walk
alongst with us—though unpleasant company—in our greatest contentments,
and are putting marks upon your doors, as in the time of the plague upon
houses infected, “Lord have mercy upon us,”(203) and are continually
bearing this motto to our view, and sounding this direction to our ears,
_cito, procul, diu_—to get soon our of Sodom that is appointed for
destruction, to fly quickly out of ourselves to the refuge appointed of
God, even one that was dead and is alive, and hath redeemed us by his
blood, and to get far off from ourselves, and take up dwelling in the
blessed Son of God, through whose flesh there is access to the
Father,—seeing all these, I say, are so, why do not we awake ourselves
upon the sound of the promise of immortality and life, brought to our ears
in the gospel? Mortality hath already seized upon our bodies, but why do
you not catch hold of this opportunity of releasing your souls from the
chains and fetters of eternal death? Truly, my beloved, all that can be
spoken of torments and miseries in this life, suppose we could imagine all
the exquisite torments invented by the most cruel tyrants since the
beginning, to be combined in some one kind of torture, and would then
stretch our imagination beyond that, as far as that which is composed of
all torments surpasseth the simplest death, yet we do not conceive nor
express unto you that death to come. Believe it, when the soul is out of
the body it is a most pure activity, all sense, all knowledge. And seeing
where it is dulled and dampished(204) in the body, it is capable of so
much grief or joy, pleasure or pain, we may conclude, that being loosed
from these stupifying earthly chains, that it is capable of infinite more
vexation, or contentation, in a higher and purer strain.
Therefore, we may conclude with the apostle, that all men by nature are
miserable in life, but infinitely more miserable in death. Only the man
who is in Jesus Christ, in whose spirit Christ dwells, and hath made a
temple of his body for offering up reasonable service in it, that man only
is happy in life, but far happier in death, happy that he was born, but
infinitely more happy that he was born mortal, born to die, for “if the
body be dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness.”
Men commonly make their accounts and calculate their time so, as if death
were the end of it. Truly, it were happiness in the generality of men
that that computation were true, either that it had never begun, or that
it might end here, for that which is the greatest dignity and glory of a
man—his immortal soul—it is truly the greatest misery of sinful men,
because it capacitates them for eternal misery. But if we make our
accounts right, and take the right period, truly death is but the
beginning of our time, of endless and unchangeable endurance either in
happiness or misery, and this life in the body, which is only in the view
of the short sighted sons of men, is but a strait and narrow passage into
the infinite ocean of eternity, but so inconsiderable it is that,
according as the spirit in this passage is fashioned and formed, so it
must continue for ever, for where the tree falleth, there it lieth. There
may be hope that a tree will sprout again, but truly there is no hope that
ever the damned soul shall see a spring of joy, and no fear that ever the
blessed spirits shall find a winter of grief. Such is the evenness of
eternity, that there is no shadow of change in it.
O then, how happy are they in whose souls this life is already begun,
which shall then come to its meridian, when the glory of the flesh falls
down like withered hay into the dust! The life as well as the light of the
righteous is progressive. It is shining more and more till that day come,
the day of death, only worthy to be called the present day, because it
brings perfection, it mounts the soul in the highest point of the orb, and
there is no declining from that again. The spirit is now alive in some
holy affections and motions, breathing upwards, wrestling towards that
point. The soul is now in part united to the Fountain of life, by loving
attendance and obedience, and it is longing to be more closely united. The
inward senses are exercised about spiritual things, but the burden of this
clayey mansion doth much dull and damp them, and proves a great
_remora_(205) to the spirit. The body indisposes and weakens the soul
much. It is life, as in an infant, though a reasonable soul be there, yet
overwhelmed with the incapacity of the organs. This body is truly a prison
of restraint and confinement to the soul, and often loathsome and ugly
through the filthiness of sin, but when the spirit is delivered from this
necessary burden and impediment, O how lively is that life it then lives!
Then the life, peace, joy, love, and delight of the soul surmounts all
that is possible here, further than the highest exercise of the soul of
the wisest men surpasses the brutish like apprehensions of an infant, and
indeed then the Christian comes to his full stature, and is a perfect man
when he ceaseth to be a man.
How will you not be persuaded, beloved in the Lord, to long after this
life, to have Christ formed in your hearts, for truly the generality have
not so much as Christ fashioned in their outward habit, but are within
darkness and earthiness and wickedness, and without, impiety and
profanity. Will you not long for this life? For now you are dead while you
live, as the apostle speaks of widows that live in pleasure. The more the
soul be satisfied with earthly things, it is the deeper buried in the
grave of the flesh, and the further separated from God. Alas! many of you
know no other life, than that which you now live in the body, you neither
apprehend what this new birth is, nor what the perfect stature of it shall
be afterwards. But truly while it is thus, you are but walking shadows,
breathing clay, and no more. A godly man used to calculate the years of
his nativity from his second birth, his conversion to God in Christ; and
truly, this is the true period of the right calculation of life, of that
life which shall not see death. True life hath but one period, that is,
the beginning of it, for end it hath none. I beseech you, reckon your
years thus, and I fear that you reckon yourselves, many of you, yet dead
in sins and trespasses. Is that life, I pray you, to eat, to drink, to
sleep, to play, to walk, to work? Is there any thing in all these worthy
of a reasonable soul, which must survive the body, and so cease from such
things for ever? Think within yourselves, do you live any other life than
this? What is your life but a tedious and wearisome repetition of such
brutish actions which are only terminate on the body? O then, how
miserable are you, if you have no other period to reckon from than your
birth-day! If there be not a second birth-day before your burial, you may
make your reckoning to be banished eternally from the life of God.
As for you, Christians, whom God hath quickened by the Spirit of his Son,
be much in the exercise of this life, and that will maintain and advance
it. Let your care be about your spirits, and to hearten you in this study,
and to beget in you the hope of eternal life, look much and lay fast hold
on that life giving Saviour, who, by his righteous life and accursed
death, hath purchased by his own blood both happiness to us and holiness.
Consider what debtors you are to him who loved not his own life and spared
it not, to purchase this life to us. Let our thoughts and affections be
occupied about this high purchase of our Saviour’s, which is freely
bestowed on them that will have it, and believe in him for it. If we be
not satisfied with such a low and wretched life as is in the body, he will
give a higher and more enduring life, and only worthy of that name.
Sermon XXX.
Verse 11.—“But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the
dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall
also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in
you.”
It is true the soul is incomparably better than the body, and he is only
worthy the name of a man and of a Christian who prefers this more
excellent part, and employs his study and time about it, and regards his
body only for the noble guest that lodges within it, and therefore it is
one of the prime consolations that Christianity affords, that it provides
chiefly for the happy estate of this immortal piece in man, which, truly,
were alone sufficient to draw our souls wholly after religion. Suppose the
body should never taste of the fruits of it, but die and rise no more, and
never be awaked out of its sleep, yet it were a sufficient ground of
engagement to godliness, that the life and well being of the far better
part in man is secured for eternity, which is infinitely more than all
things beside can truly promise us, or be able to perform. Certainly,
whatsoever else you give your hearts to, and spend your time upon, it
either will leave you in the midst of your days, and at your end you shall
be a fool, or you must leave it in the end of your days, and find
yourselves as much disappointed, or, to speak more properly, because when
your time is ending your life and being is but at its beginning, you must
bid an eternal adieu to all these things whereupon your hearts are set
when you are but beginning truly to be. But this is only the proper and
true good of the soul,—Christ in it,—most portable and easily carried
about with you, yea, that which makes the soul no burden to itself, and
helps it to carry all things easily,—and then most inseparable, for Christ
in the soul is the spring of a never-ending life, of peace, joy, and
contentation in the fountain of an infinite goodness, and it outwears time
and age as well as the immortal being of the soul. Yea, such is the
strength of this consolation, that then the soul is most closely united
and fully possessed of that which is its peculiar and satisfying good,
when it leaves the body in the dust, and escapes out of this prison unto
that glorious liberty.
But yet, there is besides this an additional comfort comprehended in the
verse read,—that the sleep of the body is not perpetual, that it shall
once be awakened and raised up to the fellowship of this glory, for though
a man should be abundantly satisfied if he possess his own soul, yet no
man hateth his own flesh. The soul hath some kind of natural inclination
to a body suitable unto it, and in this it differs from an angel, and,
therefore, the apostle, when he expresseth his earnest groan for the
intimate presence of his soul with Christ, he subjoins this correction—not
that we desire to be unclothed, but clothed upon it, 2 Cor. v. 1-4. If it
were possible, says he, we would be glad to have the society of the body
in this glory, we would not desire to cast off those clothes of flesh, but
rather that the garment of glory might be spread over all, if it were not
needful because they are old and ragged and would not suit well, and our
earthly tabernacle is ruinous, and would not be fit for such a glorious
guest to dwell into, and therefore, it is needful to be taken down. Well,
then, here is an overplus, and, as it were, a surcharge of consolation,
that seeing for the present it is expedient to put off the present
clothing of flesh, and take down the present earthly house,—yet that the
day is coming that the same clothes, renewed, shall be put on, and the
same house repaired and made suitable to heaven, shall be built up,—that
this mortal body shall be quickened with that same spirit that now
quickens the soul, and makes it live out of the body, and so the sweet and
beloved friends, who parted with so much pain and grief, shall meet again
with so much pleasure and joy, and, as they were sharers together in the
miseries of this life, shall participate also in the blessedness of the
next,—like Saul and Jonathan, “lovely and pleasant in their lives,” and
though for a time separated in death, yet not always divided. Now this is
the highest top of happiness, to which nothing can be added. It is
comprehensive of the whole man, and it is comprehensive of all that can be
imagined to be the perfective good of man.
It is no wonder, then, that the apostle reckons this doctrine of the
resurrection amongst the foundations of Christianity (Heb. v. 1, 2), for
truly these two—the immortality of the soul and the resurrection of the
mortal body—are the two ground-stones or pillars of true religion, which,
if they be not well settled in the hearts of men, all religion is
tottering and ruinous and unable to support itself. That the soul cannot
taste death or see corruption, and that the body shall but taste it, and,
as it were, salute it, and cannot always abide under the power of it,
these are the prime foundations upon which all Christian persuasion is
built. For without these be laid down in the lowest and deepest part of
the heart, all exhortations to an holy and righteous life are weak and
ineffectual, all consolations are empty and vain. In a word, religion is
but an airy speculation, that hath no consistence but in the imaginations
of men,—it is a house upon sand, that can abide no blast of temptation, no
wave of misery, but must straightway fall to the ground. From whence is
it, I pray you, that the persuasions of the gospel have so little power
upon men,—that the plain and plentiful publication of a Saviour is of so
small virtue to stir up the hearts of men to take hold on him? How comes
it to pass that the precepts and prohibitions of the most high God, coming
forth under his authority, lay so little restraint on men’s
corruptions,—that so few will be persuaded to stop their course, and come
off the ways that they are accustomed to,—that men pull away the shoulder
and stop the ear, and make their hearts as adamant, incapable of being
affected with either the authority or love of the gospel,—that when he
pipes unto us so few dance, and when he mourns so few lament? Is it not
because these two foundations are not laid, and men’s hearts not digged
deep by earnest consideration to receive these ground-stones of
Christianity,—the belief of their souls, eternal survivance after the
dust, and of the revivance and resurrection of the body, after it hath
slept a while in the dust? I remember heathens have had some noble and
rare conceptions about virtue, and some have laboured to enamour men with
the native beauty of it, and to persuade them that it was a sufficient
reward to itself.(206) And truly it would far more become a Christian,—who
knoweth the high and divine pattern of holiness to be God himself, and so
must needs behold a far surpassing beauty and excellency in the image of
God than in all earthly things,—I say, it would become him to accustom
himself to a dutiful observance of religion, even without any respect to
the reward of it. He would train his heart to do homage to God out of a
loyal affection and respect to his majesty, and from the love of the very
intrinsic beauty of obedience, without borrowing always from such selfish
considerations of our own happiness or misery. Notwithstanding, such is
the posture of man’s spirit now, that he cannot at all be engaged to the
love of religion, except some seen advantage conciliate it, and therefore
the Lord makes use of such selfish principles in drawing men to himself,
and keeping them still with him. And, truly, considering man’s infirmity,
this is the spirit and life of all religion—immortality and
resurrection—that which gives a lustre to all and quickens all, that which
makes all to sink deep, and that which makes a Christian steadfast and
immoveable, 2 Cor. v. 8. It is certainly hope that is the key of the
heart, that opens and shuts it to any thing. Hence the apostle Peter (1
Epistle) first blesseth God heartily for the new birth, and, in expressing
of it, makes hope the very term of that generation, and so it must be a
substantial thing. “Blessed be God, who hath begotten us again to a lively
hope.” Hope hath a quickening power in it. It makes all new where it
comes, and is full of spirit. It is the helmet and anchor of a Christian,
that which bears the dint of temptation and makes him steady in religion.
No man will put his plough in this ground, or sow unto the Spirit, but in
hope, for he that soweth must sow in hope, else his plough will not go
deep. 1 Cor. ix. 10. This then is the very spirit and life of
religion,—the resurrection of the dead,—without which our faith were in
vain, and men would continue still in their sins. Certainly it is the deep
inconsideration of this never ending endurance of our souls, and
restitution of our bodies to the same immortality, that makes the most
part of men so slight and superficial in religion, else it were not
possible, if that were laid to heart, but men would make religion their
business, and chief business.
We have here the two genuine causes of the resurrection of the bodies of
Christians,—the resurrection of Christ and the inhabitation of his Spirit.
The influence that the resurrection of Christ hath on ours, is lively and
fully holden out by this apostle, 1 Cor. xv., against them who deny the
resurrection from the dead: “If Christ be not raised, your faith is in
vain, you are yet in your sins, and they that are asleep are perished.”
Religion were nothing but a number of empty words of show, preaching were
a vanity and imposture, faith were a mere fancy, if this be not laid down
as the ground stone,—Christ raised, not as a natural person, but as a
common politic person, as the first-fruits of them that sleep, ver. 17-20,
where he alludes to the ceremony of offering the first-fruits of their
harvest, Lev. xxiii. 10. For under the law they might not eat of the
fruits of the land till they were sanctified. All was counted profane till
they were some way consecrated to the Lord. Now, for this end, the Lord
appointed them to bring one sheaf for all, and that was the representative
of all the rest of the heap, and this was waved before the Lord, and
lifted up from the earth. Now, according to the apostle’s argument, Rom.
xi. 16, “If the first fruits be holy, so is the lump,” for it represents
all the lump, and therefore Jesus Christ, the chief of all his brethren,
was made the first fruits from the dead, and lifted up from the grave, as
the representer of all the lump of his elect, and so it must needs follow,
that they shall not continue in the grave, but must in due time partake of
that benefit which he has first entered in possession of, in their name,
and for them. For if this first fruits be holy, so the whole lump must be
holy, and if the first fruits be risen, so must the lump. You see then the
force of the present reason, “If the Spirit that raised Christ dwell in
you,” he shall also raise you, namely, because he raised up Christ the
very first fruits of all the rest, so that Christ’s resurrection is a sure
pledge and token of yours, and both together are the main basis and ground
work of all our hope and salvation, the neglect and inconsideration
whereof makes the most part of pretended Christians to walk according to
that Epicurean principle, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we shall
die.” As if there were no life to come, they withhold nothing from their
carnal minds that can satisfy or please their lusts. But for you who
desire a part in this resurrection, and dare scarcely believe so great a
thing, or entertain such a high hope, because of the sight of your
unworthiness, as you would be awakened by this hope to “righteousness, and
to sin no more” verse 34th of that chapter, so you may encourage
yourselves to that hope by the resurrection of Christ, for it is that
which hath the mighty influence to beget you to a lively hope, 1 Pet. i.
3. Look upon this as the grand intent, and special design of Christ’s both
dying and rising again, that he might be the first-fruits to sanctify all
the lump. Nevertheless, it is not the desert of your bodies, for they are
often a great impediment and retardment to the spirit, and lodge the enemy
within their walls, when he is chased out of the mind by the law of the
Spirit of life, but it is the great design of God, through the whole work
of redemption, and the desert of Christ your head, and therefore you may
entertain that hope, but take heed to walk worthy of it, and that it is,
“if we have this hope, let us purify ourselves,” let us who believe that
we are risen with Christ, set our affections on things above, else we
dishonour him that is risen in our name, and we dishonour that temple of
the Holy Ghost, which he will one day make so glorious.
Sermon XXXI.
Verse 11.—“But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the
dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead, shall
also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in
you.”
As there is a twofold death,—the death of the soul, and the death of the
body—so there is a double resurrection, the resurrection of the soul from
the power of sin, and the resurrection of the body from the grave. As the
first death is that which is spiritual, then that which is bodily, so the
first resurrection is of the spirit, then the second of the body, and
these two have a connexion together, therefore saith the apostle John,
“Blessed are they who have part in the first resurrection, for on such the
second death hath no power, but they shall be priests to God,” &c. Rev.
xx. 6. Although death must seize on their bodies, yet the sting wherein
the strength of it lies, is taken away by Christ, that it hath no power to
hurt him whose spirit is raised out of the grave of sin. And truly it is
hard to tell which is the greatest change, or the most difficult, to raise
a body out of corruption to life, or to raise a soul out of sin to grace.
But both are the greatest changes that can be, and shadowed out under the
similitude of the greatest in nature, for our conversion to God is a new
birth, a new creation, and a resurrection in scripture style, and so both
require one and the same power, the almighty power of his Spirit. “You who
were dead in sins hath he quickened,” &c. O, what a notable change! It
maketh them no longer the same men, but new creatures, and therefore it is
the death of sin, and the resurrection of the soul. For as long as it is
under the chains of darkness and power of sin, it is free among the dead,
it is buried in the vilest sepulchre. Old graves, and these full of
rottenness and dead men’s bones, are nothing to express the lamentable
case of such a soul, and yet such are all by nature. Whatsoever
excellency or endowment men may have from their birth or education, yet
certainly they are but apparitions rather than any real substance, and
which is worse, their body is the sepulchre of their souls, and if the
corruption of a soul were sensible, we would think all the putrefactions
of bodily things but shadows of it. And therefore no sooner is there any
inward life begotten in a soul, but this is the very first exercise of it,
the abhorrency of the soul upon the sight and smell of its own
loathsomeness.
Now, there is no hope of any reviving. Though all the wisdom and art of
men and angels were employed in this business, there is nothing able to
quicken one such soul, until it please the Lord to speak such a word as he
did to Lazarus, “Arise, come forth,” and send his Spirit to accomplish his
word, and this will do it. When the Spirit cometh into the soul, he
quickeneth it, and this is the first resurrection. O blessed are they who
have part in this, whose souls are drawn out of the dungeon of darkness
and ignorance, and brought forth to behold this glorious light that
shineth in the gospel, and raised out of the grave of the lusts of
ignorance, to live unto God henceforth, for such have their part in the
second resurrection to life. For you see these are conjoined, “If the
Spirit dwell in you, he shall raise you,” &c. You see here two grounds and
reasons of the resurrection of body,—Christ’s rising and the Spirits
indwelling. Now I find these in the scripture made the two fountains of
all Christianity, both of the first and second resurrection.
The resurrection of Christ is an evidence of our justification, the cause
of our quickening, or vivification, and the ground and pledge of our last
resurrection, and all these are grounds of strong consolation. The first
you have, Rom. iv. 25. “Christ died for our sins, and rose for our
justification,” and the 34th verse of this chapter, “Christ is dead, yea,
rather has risen again, who then shall condemn?” Here is a clear evidence,
that he hath paid the debt wholly, and satisfied justice fully. Since he
was under the power of death, imprisoned by justice, certainly he would
not have won free, if he had not paid the uttermost farthing, therefore
his glorious resurrection is a sure manifestation of his present
satisfaction—it is a public acquittance and absolution of him from all our
debt, and so by consequence, of all he died for. For their debt was laid
upon him, and now he is discharged. And therefore the believing soul may
tremblingly boast, who shall condemn me? For it is God that justifieth.
Why? Because all my sins were laid on Christ, and God hath in a most
solemn manner acquitted and discharged him from all, when he raised him
from the dead, and therefore he cannot, and none other can sue me, or
prosecute a plea against me, since my Cautioner is fully exonered of this
undertaking, even by the great Creditor God himself. But then, his
resurrection is a pawn or pledge of the spiritual raising of the soul from
sin, as the death of Christ is made the pledge of our dying to sin, so his
rising, of our living to God, Rom. vi. 4, 5. These are not mere patterns
and examples of spiritual things, but assured pledges of the divine virtue
and power which he, being raised again, should send abroad throughout the
world. For, as there are coronation gifts when kings are solemnly
installed in office, so there are coronation mercies, triumphal gifts.
When Christ rose and ascended, he bestowed them on the world, Eph. iv. And
certainly these are the greatest, the virtue of his death to kill the old
man, and the power of his resurrection to quicken the new. And by faith, a
believer is united and ingrafted into him, as a plant into a choice stock,
and by virtue and sap coming from Christ’s death and resurrection, he is
transformed into the similitude of both, he groweth into the likeness of
his death, by dying to sin, by crucifying these inward affections and
inclinations to it, and he groweth up into the similitude of his
resurrection, by newness of life, or being alive to God, in holy desires
and endeavours after holiness and obedience. And thus the first
resurrection of the soul floweth from Christ’s resurrection.
But add unto this, that Christ’s rising is the pledge and pawn of the
second resurrection, that is, of the body, for he is the head, and we are
the members. Now, it is the most incongruous, that the head should rise
and not draw up the members after him. Certainly he will not cease till he
have drawn up all his members to him. If the head be above water, it is a
sure pledge that the body will win out of the water, if the root be alive,
certainly the branches will out in spring time, they shall live also.
There is that connexion between Christ and believers, that wonderful
communication between them, that Christ did nothing, was nothing, and had
nothing done to him, but what he did, and was, and suffered, personating
them, and all the benefit and advantage redounds to them. He would not be
considered of as a person by himself, but would rather be still taken in
with the children. As for love he came down and took flesh to be like
them, and did take their sin and misery off them, and so was content to be
looked upon by God as in the plate of sinners, as the chief sinner, so he
is content and desirous that we should look on him as in the place of
sinners, as dying, as rising for us, as having no excellency or privilege
incommunicable to us. And this was not hid from the church of old, but
presented as the grand consolation, “Thy dead men shall live, together
with my dead body they shall rise.” And, therefore, may poor souls awake
and sing. Though they must dwell in the dust, yet as the dew and influence
of heaven maketh herbs to spring out of the earth, so the virtue of this
resurrection shall make the earth, and sea, and air, to cast out and
render their dead, Isa. xxvi. 19. Upon what a sure and strong chain hangs
the salvation of poor sinners? I wish Christians might salute one another
with this “Christ is risen, and so comfort one another with these
words,”—or rather, that every one would apply this cordial to his own
heart, “Christ is risen,” and you know what a golden chain this draweth
after it, therefore we must rise and live.
The other cause, which is more immediate, and will actively accomplish it,
is the Spirit dwelling in us, for there is a suitable method here too. As
the Lord first raised the head, Christ, and will then raise the members,
and he that doth the one cannot but do the other, so the Spirit first
raiseth the soul from the woful fall into sin, which killed us, and so
maketh it a temple, and the body too, for both are bought with a price,
and, therefore, the Spirit possesseth both. But the inmost residence is in
the soul, and the bodily members are made servants of righteousness, which
is a great honour and dignity, in regard of that base employment they had
once, and so it is most suitable that he who hath thus dwelt in both
repair his own dwelling-house. For here it is ruinous, and, therefore,
must be cast down. But because it was once a temple for the holy God,
therefore it will be repaired and built again. For he that once honoured
it with his presence will not suffer corruption always to dwell in it, for
what Christ, by his humiliation and suffering, purchased, the Spirit hath
this commission to perform it; and what is it but the restitution of
mankind to a happier estate in the second Adam than ever the first was
into? Now, since our Lord who pleased to take on our flesh, did not put it
off again, but admits it to the fellowship of the same glory in heaven, in
that he died, he dies no more, death hath no more dominion over him, he
will never be wearied or ashamed of that human clothing of flesh. And,
therefore, certainly that the children may be like the father, the
followers, their captain, the members not disproportioned to the head, the
branches not different and heterogeneous to the stock, and that our rising
in Christ may leave no footstep of our falling, no remainder of our
misery, the Spirit of Christ will also quicken the mortal bodies of
believers, and make them like Christ’s glorious body.
This must be done with divine power,—and what more powerful than the
Spirit? For it is the spirits or subtile parts in all creatures that
causeth all motions, and worketh all effects. What then is that almighty
Spirit not able to do? You have shadows of this in nature, yea, convincing
evidences for, what is the spring but a resurrection of the earth? Is not
the world every year renewed, and riseth again out of the grave of winter,
as you find elegantly expressed, Psalm cvii? And doth not the grains of
seed die in the clods before they rise to the harvest, 1 Cor. xv. All the
vicissitudes and alterations in nature give us a plain draught of this
great change, and certainly it is one Spirit that effects all.
But though there be the same power required to raise up the bodies of the
godly and ungodly, yet, O what infinite distance and difference in the
nature and ends of their resurrections! There is the resurrection of life,
and the resurrection of condemnation, John v. 29. O! happy they who rise
to life that ever they died! But, O miserable, thrice wretched are all
others that they may not be dead for ever! The immortality of the soul was
infinite misery, because it is that which eternizes their misery, but when
this overplus is added, the incorruptibility of the body, and so the whole
man made an inconsumable subject for that fire to feed upon perpetually,
what heart can conceive it without horror! And yet we hear it often
without any such affection. It is a strange life that death is the only
refreshment of it, and yet this may not be had, “they shall seek death,
and it shall fly from them.” Now, my beloved, I would desire this
discourse might open way for the hearty and cordial entertainment of the
gospel, and that you might be persuaded to awake unto righteousness, and
sin no more, 1 Cor. xv. 34. Be not deceived, my brethren, “flesh and blood
cannot inherit the kingdom of God.” Certainly, if you have no other image
than what you came into the world withal, you cannot have this hope, to be
conformed one day to the glorious body of Christ. What will become of you
in that day, who declare now by the continued vent of your hearts that
this Holy Spirit dwells not in you? And, alas! how many are such? Oh! pity
yourselves, your souls and bodies both. If for love to your bodies you
will follow its present lusts, and care only for the things of the body,
you act the greatest enmity and hostility against your own bodies.
Consider, I beseech you, the eternal state of both, and your care and
study will run in another channel. And for you who have any working of the
Spirit in you, whether convincing you of sin and misery, and of
righteousness in Christ, or sometimes comforting you by the word applied
to your heart, or teaching you another way than the world walks into, I
recommend unto you that of the apostle’s, 1 Cor. xv. 58. “Wherefore, my
brethren be steadfast, &c. always abounding in the work of the Lord,
knowing your labour is not in vain.”
Sermon XXXII.
Verse 12.—“Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh,
to live after the flesh,” &c.
All things in Christianity have a near and strait conjunction. It is so
entire and absolute a piece, that if one link be loosed all the chain
falls to the ground, and if one be well fastened upon the heart it brings
all alongst with it. Some speak of all truths, even in nature, that they
are knit so together that any truth may be concluded out of every truth,
at least by a long circuit of deduction and reasoning. But whatsoever be
of that, certainly religion is a more entire thing, and all the parts of
it more nearly conjoined together, that they may mutually enforce one
another. Precepts and promises are thus linked together, that if any soul
lay hold, indeed, upon any promise of grace, he draws alongst with it the
obligation of some precept to walk suitable to such precious promises.
There is no encouragement you can indeed fasten upon, but it will join you
as nearly to the commandment; and no consolation in the gospel, that doth
not carry within its bosom an exhortation to holy walking. Again, on the
other hand, there is no precept but it should lead you straightway to a
promise; no exhortation, but it is environed before and behind with a
strong consolation, to make it pierce the deeper, and go down the sweeter.
Therefore, you see how easily the apostle digresseth from the one to the
other,—how sweetly and pertinently these are interwoven in his discourse.
The first word of the chapter is a word of strong consolation, “There is
no condemnation to them that are in Christ,” and this like a flood carries
all down with it,—all precepts and exhortations, and the soul of a
believer with them; and, therefore, he subjoins an exhortation to holy and
spiritual walking upon that very ground. And because commandments of this
nature will not float (so to speak) unless they have much water of that
kind, and cannot have such a swift course except the tide of such
encouragements flow fast, therefore he openeth that spring again in the
preceding words, and letteth the rivers of consolation flow forth, even
the hope of immortality and eternal life; and this certainly will raise up
a soul that was on ground, and carry him above in motion of obedience;
and, therefore, he may well, in the next place, stir them up to their
duty, and mind them of their obligation. “Therefore, brethren, we are
debtors not to the flesh.” To make this the more effectual, he drops it in
with affection, in a sweet compilation of love and equality, _brethren_.
There is nothing so powerful in persuasion as love; it will sweeten a
bitter and unpleasant reproof, and make it go down more easily though it
maketh less noise than threatenings and severity and authority; yet it is
more forcible, for it insinuates itself, and in a manner surpriseth the
soul, and so preventeth all resistance. As when the sun made the traveller
part with his cloak,(207) whereas the wind and rain made him hold it
faster; so affection will prevail where authority and terror cannot; it
will melt that which a stronger power cannot break. The story of Elijah, 1
Kings xix. may give some representation of this. The Lord was not in the
strong wind, nor in the terrible earthquake, nor yet in the fire, but in
the calm still voice. The Lord hath chosen this way of publishing his
grace in the gospel, because the sum of it is love to sinners, and good
will towards men. He holds it forth in the calm voice of love, and those
who are his ambassadors should be clothed with such an affection, if they
intend to prevail with men, to engage their affections. O! that we were
possessed with that brotherly love one towards another for the salvation
one of another; especially, that the preachers of the gospel might be thus
kindly affectioned towards others, and that you would take it thus, the
calling you off the ways of sin as an act of the greatest love. But then
consider the equality of this obligation, for there is nothing pressed
upon you but what lieth as heavily upon them that presseth it. This debt
binds all. O! that the ministers of the gospel could carry the impression
of this on their hearts, that when they persuade others they may withal
persuade themselves, and when they speak to others they may sit down among
the hearers. If an apostle of so eminent dignity levelleth himself in this
consideration, “therefore, brethren, we are debtors,”—how much more ought
pastors and teachers to come in the same rank and degree of debt and
obligation with others. Truly this is the great obstruction of the success
of the gospel, that those who bind on burdens on others do not themselves
touch them with one of their fingers, and while they seem serious in
persuading others, yet withal declare by their carriage that they do not
believe themselves what they bear upon others, so that preaching seemeth
to be an imposture, and affections in persuading of others to be borrowed,
as it were, in a scene, to be laid down again out of it. But then again,
there is a misconceit among people that this holy and spiritual walking is
not of common obligation, but peculiar to the preachers of the gospel.
Many make their reckoning so, as if they were not called to such high aims
and great endeavours. But truly, my beloved, this is a thing of common
concernment. The Holy Ghost hath levelled us all in this point of duty, as
he hath equally exalted all in the most substantial dignities and
privileges of the gospel. This bond is upon the highest and upon the
lowest. Greatness doth not exempt from it, and meanness doth not exclude
from it. Though commonly great persons fancy an immunity from the
strictness of a holy conservation because of their greatness, and often
mean and low persons pretend a freedom from such a high obligation because
of their lowness, yet certainly all are debt bound this way, and must one
day give account. You that are poor and unlearned, and have not received
great things of that nature from God, do not think yourselves free, do not
absolve yourselves, for there is infinite debt besides. You will have no
place for that excuse, that you had not great parts, were not learned, and
so forth. For as the obligation reaches you all, so there is as patent a
way to the exercise of religion in the poorest cottage as in the highest
palace. You may serve God as acceptably in little, as others may do in
much. There is no condition so low and abject that layeth any restraint on
this noble service and employment. This jewel loses not its beauty and
virtue, when it lieth in a dunghill more than when it is set in gold.
But let us inquire further into this debt. “We are debtors,” saith he, and
he instanceth what is not the creditor, by which he giveth us to
understand who is the true creditor, not the flesh, and, therefore, to
make out the just opposition, it must be the Spirit. We are debtors, then,
to the Spirit. And what is the debt we owe to him? We may know it that
same way, we owe not to the flesh so much as to make us live after its
guidance and direction, and fulfil its lusts. Then, by due consequence, we
owe so much to the Spirit, as that we should live after the Spirit, and
resign ourselves wholly to him, his guidance and direction. There is a
twofold kind of debt upon the creature, one remissible and pardonable,
another irremissible and unpardonable, (so to speak,) the debt of sin, and
that is the guilt of it, which is nothing else than the obligation of the
sinner over to eternal condemnation by virtue of the curse of God. Every
sinner cometh under this debt to divine justice, the desert of eternal
wrath, and the actual ordination by a divine sentence to that wrath. Now,
indeed, this debt was insoluble to us, and utterly unpayable until God
sent his Son to be our cautioner, and he hath paid the debt in his own
person, by bearing our curse, and so made it pardonable to sinners,
obtained a relaxation from that woful obligation to death. And this debt,
you see, is wholly discharged to them that are in Christ, by another
sentence repealing the former curse,—ver. 1 “There is no condemnation to
them that are in Christ.” But there is another debt, which I may call a
debt of duty and obedience, which, as it was antecedent to sin, even
binding innocent Adam, so the obligation of the debt of sin hath been so
far from taking it away that it is rather increased exceedingly, and this
debt is unpardonable and indispensable. The more of the debt of sin be
pardoned, and the more the curse be dispensed with, the more the sinner
owes of love and obedience to God. “She loved much, because much was
forgiven,”—and the more was forgiven of sin the more she owed of love, and
the more debt was discharged the more she was indebted to him. And,
therefore, after this general acquittance of all believers, ver. 1, he
presseth this obligation the more strongly. “Therefore, brethren, we are
debtors.” It is like that debt spoken of, Rom. xiii., “Owe no man any
thing, but love one another,” which is not meant that it is unlawful to be
debtors to men, but rather, what ye owe, or all things else, pay it, and
ye are free. Your debt ceases and your bond is cancelled. But as for the
debt of love and benevolence, you must so owe that to all men, as never to
be discharged of it, never to be freed from it. When you have done all
this hath no limitation of time or action, even so it is here. Other debts
when paid, men cease to be debtors, then they are free, but here the more
he pays the more he is bound to pay,—he oweth, and he oweth eternally. His
bond is never cancelled as long as he continues a creature subsisting in
God, and abides a redeemed one in Christ. For these continuing, his
obligation is eternally recent and fresh as the first day. And this doth
not at all obscure the infinite grace of God, or diminish the happiness of
saints, that they are not freed from this debt of love and obedience, but
rather illustrates the one and increases the other, for it cannot be
supposed to consist with the wisdom and holiness of God to loose his
creature from that obligation of loving obedience and subjection, which is
essential to it, and it is no less repugnant to the happiness of the
creature to be free from righteousness unto sin.
Now, this debt of duty and obedience hath a threefold bond, which because
they stand in vigour uncancelled for all eternity, therefore the
obligation arising from them is eternal too. The bond of creation, the
bond of redemption, and the bond of sanctification, these are
distinguished according to the persons of the Trinity, who appear most
eminently in them.
We owe our being to the father, in whom “we live and move and have our
being, for he made us, and not we ourselves, and we are all the works of
his hands.” Now, the debt accruing from this is infinite. If men conceive
themselves so much obliged to others for a petty courtesy as to be their
servants,—if they owe more to their parents, the instruments of their
bringing forth into the world, O how infinitely more owe we to God, of
whom we are, and have all! Doth the clay owe so much to the potter, who
doth not make it, but fashion it only? And what owe we to him that made us
of nothing, and fashioned us while we were yet without form! Truly, all
relations, all obligations evanish when this cometh forth, because all
that a man hath is less than himself, than his immortal spirit, and that
he oweth alone to God. And besides, whatsoever debt there is to other
fellow creatures in any thing, God is the principal creditor in that bond.
All the creatures are but the servants of this King, which at his sole
appointment bring along his gifts unto us, and, therefore, we owe no more
to them than to the hands of the messenger that is sent. Now, by this
account nothing is our own, not ourselves, not our members, not our goods,
but all are his, and to be used and bestowed, not at the will and
arbitriment of creatures, but to be absolutely and solely at his disposal
who hath the sole sovereign right to them and, therefore, you may take up
the heinousness of sin, how monstrous and misshapen a thing it is, that
breaks this inviolable law of creation, and withdraws the creature from
subjection to him, in whom alone it can subsist. O how disordered are the
courses and lives of men! Men living to themselves, their own lusts, after
their own will, as if they had made themselves. Men using their members as
weapons of unrighteousness against God, as if their tongues, and hands,
and feet were their own, or the devils, and not God’s. Call to mind this
obligation, “remember thy Creator.” That memento would be a strong
engagement to another course than most take. How absurd would you think it
to please yourselves in displeasing him, if you but minded the bond of
creation! But when there are other two superadded, what we owe to the Son
for coming down in the likeness of sinful flesh for us, and what we owe to
the Holy Ghost for quickening our spirits, and afterward for the
resurrection of our bodies, whose hearts would not these overcome and lead
captive to his love and obedience?
Sermon XXXIII.
Verses 12, 13.—“Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the
flesh, to live after the flesh; for if ye live after the flesh, ye
shall die,” &c.
Was that not enough to contain men in obedience to God—the very essential
bond of dependence upon God as the original and fountain of his being! And
yet man hath cast away this cord from him, and withdrew from that
allegiance he did owe to his Maker, by transgressing his holy
commandments. But God, not willing that all should perish, hath confirmed
and strengthened that primitive obligation by two other as strong if not
more. If the Father did most eminently appear in the first, the Son is
manifested in the second, and that is the work of the redemption of man,
no less glorious than his first creation. He made him first, and then he
sent his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, to make him again by his
Spirit, and now a threefold cord is not easily broken. It seems this
should bind invincibly, and constrain us not to be our own, but the
Lord’s, and now truly, they who are in Jesus Christ, are thrice indebted
wholly to God. But the two last obligations are the most special and most
wonderful, that God sent his Son for us, to redeem us from sin and misery,
and to restore man to happiness took on a miserable and accursed
habit,—that so glorious a person gave himself for so base an one,—that so
excellent a Lord became a servant for the rebel,—that he whose the earth
is, and the fulness thereof, did empty himself of all to supply us,—and in
a word, the most wonderful exchange be made that ever the sun saw, God for
men, his life a ransom for their life. All the rare inventions and fancied
stories of men come infinitely short of this. The light never saw majesty
so abased and love so expressed as in this matter, and all to this
purpose, that we who had undone ourselves might be made up again, and the
righteousness of the law fulfilled in us. At first he made us, but it cost
him nothing but a word, but now, to buy that which was taken captive by
sin, and at so dear a rate,—“ye are bought with a price, and this price
more precious than the sum of heaven and earth could amount to.” Suppose
by some rare alchemy the earth were all converted into gold, and the
heavens into precious stones, yet these corruptible and material things
come as far short of this ransom as a heap of dung is unproportioned to a
mass of gold or heap of jewels. Now, you that are thus bought, may ye not
conclude, “therefore we are debtors,” and whereof? Of ourselves, for we,
our persons, estates, and all were sold, and all are bought with this
price, therefore we are not our own, but the Lord’s, and, therefore, we
ought to “glorify God in our bodies and spirits which are his,” 1 Cor. vi.
20. Should we henceforth claim an interest and propriety in ourselves?
Should we have a will of our own? Should we serve ourselves with our
members? O how monstrous and absurd were that! Certainly, a believing
heart cannot but look upon that as the greatest indignity and vilest
impiety that ever the sun shined upon. Ingratitude hath a note of
ignominy, even among heathens, put upon it. They esteemed the reproach of
it the compend of all reproaches, _ingratum si dixeris, omnia dixeris_.
And truly it hath the most abominable visage of any vice, yea, it is all
sins drawn through other(208) in one table. Certainly a godly heart cannot
but account this execrable and detestable, henceforth to have any proper
and peculiar will and pleasure, and cannot but devote itself wholly to his
will and pleasure, for whose pleasure all were first created, and who then
redeemed us by the blood of his Son. I wish we could have this image of
ingratitude always observant to our eyes and minds when we are enticed
with our lusts to study our own satisfaction. But there is another bond
superadded to this, which mightily aggravates the debt. He hath given us
his Spirit to dwell within, as well as his Son for us. And O the
marvellous and strange effects that this Spirit hath in the favours of
men! He truly repairs that image of God which sin broke down. He
furnisheth the soul and supplies it in all its necessities. He is a light
and life to it,—a spring of everlasting life and consolation. So that to
the Spirit we owe that we are made again after his image, and the precious
purchase of Christ applied unto our souls. For him hath our Saviour left
to execute his latter will in behalf of his children. And these things are
but the first-fruits of the Spirit. Any peace, or joy, or love, or
obedience, are but an earnest of that which is coming. We shall be yet
more beholden to him. When the walls of flesh are taken down, he will
carry forth the soul into that glorious liberty of the sons of God, and
not long after he shall quicken our very dust, and raise it up in glory to
the fellowship of that happiness. Now, my beloved, consider what all this
tends to,—mark the inference you should make from it. “Therefore we are
debtors,” debtors indeed, under infinite obligations for infinite mercies.
But what is the debt we owe? Truly it might be conceived to be some rare
thing, equivalent to such unconceivable benefits. But mark what it is, “To
live after the Spirit, and not after the flesh,” to conform our affections
and actions, and the tenor of our way and course to the direction of the
Spirit, to have our spirits led and enlightened by the Holy Spirit, and
not to follow the indictment of our flesh and carnal minds. Now, truly, it
is a wonder that it is no other thing than this, for this is no other
thing than what we owe to ourselves, and to our own natures, so to speak,
for truly there is a conformity and suitableness of some things to the
very nature of man that is beautiful,—some things are decent and becomes
it, other things are undecent and uncomely, unsuitable to the very
reasonable being of man, so that they put a stain and blot upon it.
Now, indeed, there is nothing can be conceived more agreeable to the very
constitution of man’s nature than this, that the far better and more
excellent part should lead and command, and the baser and earthly part
should obey and follow. That the flesh should minister and serve the
spirit, “doth not even nature itself teach it?” And yet no heavier yoke is
put upon us than what our own nature hath put upon us already, which
indeed is wonderful! And certainly this wonderful attempering of his laws
unto the very natural exigence of the spirit of man, makes the
transgression of them so much the more heinous.
Now, all these three forementioned bonds do jointly bind on this law upon
man. In general they oblige strongly to subjection and obedience to the
will of God, but particularly, they have a constraining influence upon
this living “after the Spirit,” and not “after the flesh.” Our very
creation speaks this forth, when God made man after his own image, when he
beautified the spirit of man with that divine similitude and likeness, in
that he breathed a spirit from heaven, and took a body out of the dust,
and then exalted that heavenly piece to some participation of his own
nature. Doth not all this cry aloud upon us, that the order of creation is
now dissolved,—that the beauty of it is marred,—that all is turned upside
down,—when men’s passions and senses are their only guides, and the
principles of light in their conscience are choked and stifled? Doth not
all this teach us plainly that we should not “live after the flesh,”—that
we owe not so much to this brutish part as to enthrone it and empower it
over us,—that it were vilest anarchy, and most intolerable confusion and
usurpation, to give it the power over us, as most men do,—that there can
be no order or beauty in man till the spirit be unfettered from the chains
of fleshly lusts, and restored to the native dignity, and so keep the body
in subjection? And, indeed, Paul was so, 1 Cor. ix. 27. “I keep my body in
subjection, and beat it down, because it is an imperious slave,—an
usurping slave,—and will command, if not beaten and kept under.”
Again, Christ, hath put a bond upon us to this very same. He hath
strengthened this obligation with a new cord, in that he gave his precious
life a ransom for the souls of men. This was the principal thing he paid
for—the body only being an accessory and appendix to the soul—for it is
said, “The redemption of their soul is precious, and it ceaseth for ever,”
Psal. xlix. 8, and, “What can a man give in exchange for his soul,” Mark
viii. 37. For what material thing can equalize a spirit? Many things may
be had more precious and fine than the body, but all of them have no
proportion to a spiritual being. Now, then, in that so dear a ransom, and
so infinite a price must be given for the spirit of man, it declares the
infinite worth and excellency of it above the body, and above all visible
things. And here is, indeed, the greatest confirmation that can be
imagined. God hath valued it, he hath put the soul of man in the balance,
to find something equal in weight of dignity and worth and when all that
is in heaven and earth is put in the other scale, the soul is down weight
by far. There is such distance that there is no proportion; only the life
and blood of his own Son weighs it down, and is an overvalue, and thus, in
our redemption, we have a visible demonstration—as it were—of the infinite
obligation of this law, not to live after that contemptible part, our
flesh, but to follow after the motions and directions of an enlightened
spirit, not to spend our thoughts, care, and time, upon the body, and
making provision for the lusts thereof—as most men do, and all by nature
are now inclined to do—but to be taken up with the immortal precious jewel
that is within, how to have it rubbed and cleansed from all the filth that
sin and the flesh hath cast upon it, and restored to that native beauty,
the image of God in righteousness and holiness. If you, in your practice
and affection, turn the scales otherwise, and make the body and things of
the body, suppose the whole world, down-weight in your affection and
imagination, you have plainly contradicted the just measure of the
sanctuary, and, in effect, you declare that “Christ died in vain,” and
gave his life out of an error and mistake of the worth of the soul. You
say he needed not have given such a price for it, seeing every day you
weigh it down with every trifle of momentary fleshly satisfaction.
Lastly, The Spirit binds this fast upon us, for the soul of man he hath
chosen for his habitation, and there he delights to dwell, in the heart of
the contrite and humble, and this he intends to beautify and garnish, and
to restore it to that primitive excellency it once had. The spirit of man
is nearer his nature, and more capable of being conformed unto it, and
therefore his peculiar and special work is about our spirits. First, to
enlighten and convince them, then, to reform and direct them and lead
them, and this binds as forcibly, and constraineth a believer certainly to
resign himself to the Spirit, to study how to order his walk after that
direction, and to be more and more abstracted from the satisfaction of his
body; else he cannot choose but grieve the Spirit, his best friend, which
alone is the fountain of joy and peace to him, and being grieved, cannot
but grieve himself next.
Now, my beloved, consider, if you owe so much to the flesh, whether or not
it be so steadable(209) and profitable unto you? And if you think it can
give you a sufficient reward to compense all your pains in satisfying it,
go on, but, I believe, you can reckon no good office that ever it did you,
and your expectation is less. What fruit have you of all, but shame and
vexation of conscience? And what can you expect but death, the last fruits
of it? What then do you owe unto it? Are you debtors to its pleasure and
satisfaction, which hath never done you good, and will do you eternal
hurt? Consider whether you are so much bound and obliged to it as to lose
your souls for it, (one of them must be,) and whether or not you be not
more obliged to God the Father, and his Son Jesus Christ, to “live after
the Spirit,” though for the present it should be painful to beat down your
body. You are debtors indeed, but you owe nothing to the flesh but
stripes and mortification.
Sermon XXXIV.
Verse 13.—“For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die, but if ye
through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall
live.”
Though the Lord, out of his absolute sovereignty, might deal with man in
such a way, as nothing should appear but his supreme will and almighty
power, he might simply command obedience, and without any more persuasions
either leave men to the frowardness of their own natures, or else
powerfully constrain them to their duty, yet he hath chosen that way that
is most suitable to his own wisdom, and most connatural to man’s nature,
to lay out before him the advantages and disadvantages, and to use these
as motives and persuasives of his Spirit. For since he hath by his first
creation implanted in man’s soul such a principle as moveth itself upon
the presentation of good or evil, that this might not be in vain, he
administers all the dispensations of the law and gospel in a way suitable
to that, by propounding such powerful motives as may incline and persuade
the heart of man. It is true, there’s a secret drawing withal necessary,
the pull of the Father’s arm and power of the Holy Ghost, yet that which
is visible or sensible to the soul is the framing of all things so as to
engage it upon rational terms. It is set between two contraries, _death_
and _life_,—death which it naturally abhorreth, and life which it
naturally loveth. An even balance is holden up before the light of the
conscience, in which obedience and sin are weighed, and it is found even
to the convincing of the spirit of man, that there are as many
disadvantages in the one as advantages in the other.
This was the way that God used first with man in paradise. You remember
the terms run so,—“’What day thou eatest thou shalt die.” He hedged him in
on the one side by a promise of life, on the other by a threatening of
death. And these two are very rational restraints, suited to the soul of
man, and in the inward principles of it, which are a kind of instinct to
that which is apprehended good or gainful.
Now, this verse runs even so in the form of words “If ye live after the
flesh ye shall die.” You see this method is not changed under the gospel,
for, indeed, it is natural to the spirit of man, and he hath now much more
need of all such persuasions, because there is a great change of man’s
inclination to the worst side. All within is so disordered and perverse
that a thousand hedges of persuasive grounds cannot do that which one
might have done at first. Then they were added out of superabundance, but
now out of necessity,—then they were set about man to preserve him in his
natural frame and inclinations, but now they are needful to change and
alter them quite, which is a kind of creation, therefore saith David,
“create in me a new spirit,” and, therefore, the gospel abounds in variety
of motives and inducements, in greater variety, of far more powerful
inducements than the law. Here is that great persuasion taken from the
infinite gain or loss of the soul of man, which, if any thing be able to
prevail, this must do, seeing it is seconded with some natural inclination
in the soul of man to seek its own gain. Yet there is a difference
between the nature of such like promises and threatenings in the first
covenant and in the second. In the first covenant, though life was freely
promised, yet it was immediately annexed to perfect obedience as a
consequent reward of it. It was firstly promised unto complete
righteousness of men’s persons. But in the second covenant, firstly and
principally life eternal, grace and glory is promised to Jesus Christ and
his seed, antecedent to any condition or qualification upon their part.
And then again, all the promises that run in way of condition, as, “He
that believeth shall not perish,” &c., “If ye walk after the Spirit, ye
shall live.” These are all the consequent fruits of that absolute gracious
disposition and resignation of grace and life to them whom Christ hath
chosen. And so their believing, and walking, and obeying, cometh in
principally as parts of the grace promised, and as witnesses and evidences
and confirmations of that life which is already begun, and will not see an
end. Besides that, by virtue of these absolute promises made to the seed
of Christ, and Christ’s complete performance of all conditions in their
name, the promises of life are made to faith principally, which hath this
peculiar virtue to carry forth the soul to another’s righteousness and
sufficiency, and to bottom it upon another and in the next place, to holy
walking, though mixed with many infirmities, which promise, in the first
covenant, was only annexed to perfect and absolute obedience.
You heard, in the preceding verse, a strong inducement taken from the
bond, debt, and duty we owe to the Spirit, to walk after it, and the want
of all obligation to the flesh. Now, if honesty and duty will not suffice
to persuade you, as you know in other things it would do with any honest
man, plain equity is a sufficient bond to him. Yet, consider what the
apostle subjoins from the damage, and from the advantage which may of
itself be the topics of persuasion, and serves to drive in the nail of
debt and duty to the head. If you will not take with this debt you owe to
the Spirit, but still conceive there is some greater obligation lying on
you, to care for your bodies and satisfy them, then, I say, behold the end
of it, what fruit you must one day reap of the flesh and service of sin.
“If ye live after the flesh, you shall die.” But then, consider the fruit
you shall reap of the Spirit, and holy walking “you shall live.” It is
true the flesh may flatter you more for the present, but the end of it
will lie bitter as death, _amplectitur ut strangulet_, “the flesh embraces
you that it may strangle you.” And so if you knew all well you would not
think you owed it any thing but enmity and hatred and mortification. If
your duty will not move you, let the love of yourselves and your souls
persuade you, for it is an irrepealable statute: “The wages of sin is
death.” Every way you choose to fulfil the lusts of your flesh, and to
make provision for it, neglecting the eternal welfare of your souls,
certainly it shall prove to you “the tree of the knowledge of good and
evil,” it shall be as the forbidden fruit, which instead of performing
that which was promised will bring forth death,—the eternal separation of
the soul from God. Adam’s sin was a breviary or epitome of the multiplied
and enlarged sins of mankind. You may see in this tragedy all your
fortunes (so to speak,)—you may behold in it the flattering insinuations
and deceitful promises of sin and Satan, who is a liar and murderer from
the beginning, and murdered man at first by lying to him. You find the
hook covered over with the varnished bait of an imaginary life and
happiness, satisfaction promised to the eye, to the taste, and to the
mind. And upon these enticements, man bewitched and withdrawn from his
God, after these vain and empty shadows, which, when he catched hold upon,
he himself was caught and laid hold upon by the wrath of God,—by death and
all the miseries before it or after it. Now, here is the map of the
world,—for all that is in the world is but a larger volume of that same
kind, “the lust of the eyes, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of
life!” Albeit they have been known and found to be the notablest and
grossest deceivers, and every man, after he hath spent his days in pursuit
and labour for them, is constrained to acknowledge at length, though too
late, that all that is in the world is but an imposture, a delusion, a
dream, and worse, yet every man hearkens after these same flatteries and
lies that hath cast down so many wounded, and made so many strong ones to
fall by them. Every man trusts the world and his own flesh, as if they
were of good report and of known integrity. And this is men’s misery, that
no man will learn wisdom upon others expenses, upon the woful and tragical
example of so many others, but go on as confidently now, after the
discovery of these deceivers, as if this were the first time they had made
such promises, and used such fair words to men. Have they not been these
six thousand years almost deluding the world? And have we not as many
testimonies of their falsehood, as there have been persons in all ages
before us? After Adam hath tasted of this tree of pleasure and found
another fruit growing on it and that is death, should the posterity be so
mad as to be meddling still with the forbidden tree? And wherefore
forbidden? Because destructive to ourselves.
Know then and consider, beloved in the Lord, that you shall reap no other
thing of all your labours and endeavours after the flesh, all your toiling
and perplexing cares, all your excessive pains in the making provision for
your lusts, and caring for the body only, you shall reap no other harvest
of all, but death and corruption. Death, you think that is a common lot,
and you cannot eschew it however, nay, but the death here meant is of
another sort, in respect of which you may call death life. It is the
everlasting destruction of the soul from the presence of God and the glory
of his power. It is the falling of that infinite weight of the wrath of
the Lamb upon you, in respect of which, mountains and hills will be
thought light, and men would rather wish to be covered with them, Rev. vi.
16. Suppose, now, you could swim in a river of delights and pleasures,
(which yet is given to none, for truly, upon a just reckoning, it will be
found that the anxiety, and grief, and bitterness, that is intermingled
with all earthly delights, swallows up the sweetness of them,) yet it will
but carry you down ere you be aware, into the sea of death and
destruction, as the fish that swim and sport for a while in Jordan, are
carried down into the Dead sea of Sodom, where they are presently
suffocated and extinguished,(210) or, as a malefactor is carried through a
pleasant palace to the gallows, so men walk through the delights of their
flesh, to their own endless torment and destruction.
Seeing then, my beloved, that your sins and lusts which you are inclined
and accustomed to, will certainly kill you, if you entertain them, then
nature itself would teach you the law of self-defence,—to kill, ere you be
killed, to kill sin, ere it kill you,—to mortify the deeds and lusts of
the body, which abound among you, or they will certainly mortify you, that
is, make you die. Now, if self love could teach you this, which the love
of God cannot persuade you to, yet it is well, for being once led unto
God, and moved to change your course, upon the fear and apprehension of
the infinite danger that will ensue. Certainly if you were but a little
acquainted with the sweetness of this life, and goodness of your God, you
would find the power of the former argument _a debito_, from debt and
duty, upon your spirit. Let this once lead you unto God, and you will not
want that which will constrain you to abide, and never to depart from him.
If you mortify the deeds of the body, you shall live. As sin decays, you
increase and grow, as sins die, your souls live, and it shall be a sure
pledge to you of that eternal life. And though this be painful and
laborious yet consider, that it is but the cutting off of a rotten member,
that would corrupt the whole body, and the want of it will never maim or
mutilate the body, for you shall live perfectly when sin is perfectly
expired, and out of life, and according as sin is nearer expiring, and
nearer the grave, your souls are nearer that endless life. If this do not
move us, what can be said next? What shall he do more to his vineyard?
Sermon XXXV.
Verses 13, 14.—“For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die; but
if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye
shall live. For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are
the sons of God.”
The life and being of many things consists in union,—separate them, and
they remain not the same, or they lose their virtue. It is much more thus
in Christianity, the power and life of it consists in the union of these
things that God hath conjoined, so that if any man pretend to one thing of
it, and neglect the other, he hath really none of them. And to hold to the
subject in hand, there are three things, which, joined together in the
hearts of Christians, have a great deal of force: the duty of a Christian,
and his reward, and his dignity. His work and labour seems hard and
unpleasant, when considered alone, but the reward sweetens it, when it is
jointly believed. His duty seems too high, and his labour great, yet the
consideration of the real dignity he is advanced unto, and privilege he
has received, will raise up the spirit to great and high attempts, and to
sustain great labours. Mortification is the work and labour, life, eternal
life, is the reward. Following the Spirit is the Christian’s duty, but to
be the son of God, that is his dignity.
Mortification sounds very harsh at first. The hearts of men say, “It is a
hard saying, who can hear it?” And indeed I cannot deny but it is so to
our corrupt nature, and therefore so holden out in Scripture. The words
chosen to press it express much pain and pains, much torment and labour.
It is not so easy and trivial a business to forsake sin, or subdue it, as
many think, who only think it easy because they have never tried it. It is
a circumcision of the foreskin of the heart, and you know how it disabled
a whole city, (Gen. xxxiv.) and how it enraged the heart of a tender
mother, Exod. iv. 26. It is the excision or cutting off a member, and
these the most dear and precious, be it the right hand or right foot,
which is a living death, as it were, even to kill a man while he is alive.
It is a new birth, and the pains and throes of the birth are known.
Regeneration certainly hath a travailing pain within it, insomuch that
Paul travailed in pain till it were accomplished in these, Gal. iv. 19.
Though men conceive sin in pleasure, yet they cannot be rid of that deadly
burden without throes and pains, and to half this work, or to be remiss or
negligent in it, is as foolish and unwise as for a child to stay long in
the place of breaking forth, as the Lord complains of Ephraim, Hos. xiii.
13. “He is an unwise son, for he should not stay long in the place of the
breaking forth of children.” It is one of the greatest follies, not to
labour by all means to be rid of the encumbrances of sin. Much violence
offered to it, and a total resignation of ourselves to God, may be great
pain, but it is short pain, then the pleasure is greater and continues;
but now Christians lengthen their pain, and draw out their cross and
vexation to a great extent, because they deal negligently in the business,
they suffer the Canaanites to live, and these are thorns and briers in
their sides continually. Then this business is called _mortification_, as
the word is here, and Col. iii. 5, which imports a higher degree of pain,
for the agonies of death are terrible, and to hold it out yet more, the
most painful and lingering kind of death is chosen to express it,
_crucifixion_, Gal. v. 24. Now, indeed, that which makes the forsaking of
sin so grievous to flesh and blood, is the engagements of the soul to it,
the oneness that is between it and our natures, as they are now fallen,
for you know pain ariseth upon the dissolution or division of any thing
that is continued or united, and these things that are so nearly
conjoined, it is hard to separate them without much violence. And truly,
as the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, so we must offer violence to
ourselves, to our lusts and inclinations, who are almost ourselves, and if
you would be truly Christians, this must be your business and employment,
to cut off these things that are dearest unto you, to cast out the very
idols your hearts sacrifice unto, and if there be any thing more one with
you than another, to endeavour to break the bond with that, and to be at
the furthest distance from it. It is easy to persuade men to forsake some
sins and courses that they are not much inclined to, and find not much
pleasure or profit by them. You may do that and be but dead in sins, but
if you aim at true mortification indeed, you would consider what are the
chief idols and predominant inclinations of your heart, and as to set
yourself impartially against all known, so particularly against the most
beloved sin, because it interrupts most the communion of God, and
separates from your Beloved, and the dearer it be, the more dangerous
certainly it is.
But to encourage and hearten you to this, I would have you look back to
that former victory that Christ hath gained in our name, and look about to
the assistance you have for the present, the Spirit to help you. Truly, my
beloved, this will be a dead business, if you be not animated and
quickened by these considerations,—that Christ died to sin and lived to
God, and that in this he was a public person representing you, that so you
may conclude with Paul, “I am crucified with Christ,” Gal. ii. 20. “We are
buried with him by baptism into his death,” Rom. vi. 4. Consider that
mystical union with Christ crucified, and life shall spring out of his
cross, out of his grave, to kill sin in you,—that the great business is
done already, and victory gained in our Head, “This is our victory, even
faith.” Believe, and then you have overcome, before you overcome, and this
will help you to overcome in your own persons. And then, consider and look
round about to the strong helper you have, the Spirit. “If ye through the
Spirit mortify,” &c. Stronger is he that is in you than he that is in the
world. Though he does not vent all his power to you, yet you may believe
that there is a secret latent virtue in the seed of grace, that it cannot
be whole overcome or conquered, and there is one engaged in the warfare
with us who will never leave us nor forsake us, who of set purpose
withdraweth his help now and then to discover our weakness to us, that we
may cleave the faster to him, who never letteth sin get any power or
gather any strength, but out of wisdom to make the final victory the more
glorious. In a word, he leads us through weaknesses, infirmities,
faintings, wrestlings, that his strength may be perfected in
weakness,—that when we are weak, then we may be strongest in him, 2 Cor.
xii. 9. Our duty then is, to follow this Spirit wheresoever he leadeth us.
Christ, the captain of our salvation, when he went to heaven, sent the
Spirit to be our guider, to lead us thither where he is, and therefore we
should resign and give up ourselves to his guidance and direction. The
nature of a creature is dependence, so the very essence of a Christian
consists in dependence and subordination to the Spirit of God. Nature
itself would teach them that want wisdom to commit themselves to those
that have it, and not to carry the reins of their own life themselves.
Truly, not only the sense of our own imperfection, of our folly and
ignorance in these things that belong to life, should make us willing to
yield ourselves over to the Spirit of God, as blind men to their leader,
as children to their nurses, as orphans to their tutors;(211) but also,
because the Spirit is made our tutor and leader, Christ, our Father hath
left us to the Spirit in his latter will; and, therefore, as we have
absolute necessity, so he hath both willingness and ability, because it is
his office. “O Lord, I know,” saith Jeremiah, “that the way of man is not
in himself; it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps,” Jer. x.
23. O it were a great point of wisdom thus to know our ignorance and
folly, and this is the great qualification of Christ’s disciples, simple
as children, as little children, as void of conceit of their own wisdom,
Mark x. 15. And this alone capacitates the soul to receive the impressions
of wisdom; as an empty table is fittest to write upon, so a soul emptied
of itself; whereas self conceit draweth a number of foolish senseless
draughts in the mind that it cannot receive the true image of wisdom.
Thus, then, when a soul finds that it hath misled itself, being misguided
by the wild fire of its lusts, and hath hardly escaped perishing and
falling headlong in the pit, this disposes the soul to a willing
resignation of itself to one wiser and powerfuller, the Spirit of God; and
so he giveth the Spirit the string of his affections and judgment to lead
him by, and he walketh willingly in that way to eternal life, since his
heart was enlarged with so much knowledge and love. And now, having given
up yourselves thus, you would carefully eye your Leader, and attend all
his motions, that you may conform yourself to them. Whensoever the Spirit
pulleth you by the heart, draweth at your conscience, to drive you to
prayer, or any such duty, do not resist that pull, do not quench the
Spirit, lest he let you alone, and do not call you, nor speak to you. If
you fall out thus with your Leader, then you must guide yourselves, and
truly you will guide it into the pit, if left to yourselves. Therefore
make much of all the impulses of your conscience, of all the touches and
inward motions of light and affection, to entertain these, and draw them
forth in meditation and action, for these are nothing else but the Spirit
your leader plucking at you to follow him; and if you sit when he riseth
to walk, if you neglect such warnings, then you may grieve him, and this
cannot but in the end be bitterness to you. Certainly, many Christians are
guilty in this, and prejudge themselves of the present comfort and benefit
of this inward anointing, that teacheth all things, and of this bosom
guide that leadeth in all truth; because they are so heavy and lumpish to
be led after him; they drive slowly, and take very much pressure and
persuasion to any duty; whereas we should accustom ourselves to willing
and ready obedience upon the least signification of his mind. Yea, and
which is worse, we often resist the Holy Ghost. He draweth, and we hold
beloved sins;—he pulleth, and we pull back from the most spiritual duties.
There is so much perverseness and frowardness yet in our natures, that
there needs the almighty draught of his arm to make it straight, as there
is need of infinite grace to pardon it.
Now, my beloved, if you have in your desires and affections resigned
yourselves over to the guidance of this Spirit, and this be your real and
sincere endeavour to follow it, and in as far as you are carried back, or
contrary, by temptation and corruption, or retarded in your motion, it is
your lamentation before the Lord,—I say unto you, cheer your hearts, and
lift them up in the belief of this privilege conferred upon you: you “are
the sons of God”—for he giveth this tutor and pedagogue to none but to his
own children. “As many as are led by the Spirit of God, are the sons of
God.” Suppose you cannot exactly follow his motions, but are often driven
out or turned back, yet hath not the Spirit the hold of your heart? Are
you not detained by the cord of your judgment and the law of your mind?
And is there not some chain fastened about your heart which maketh it
outstrip the practice by desires and affections? You are the sons of God.
That is truly the greatest dignity and highest privilege, in respect of
which, all relations may blush and hide their faces. What are all the
splendid and glistering titles among men but empty shows and evanishing
sounds in respect of this? To be called the son of a gentleman, of a
nobleman, of a king, how much do the sons of men pride themselves in it?
But, truly, that putteth no intrinsic dignity in the persons
themselves,—it is a miserable poverty to borrow praise from another, and
truly he that boasts of his parentage, _aliena laudat non sua_, he
praiseth that which is another’s, not his own. But this dignity is truly a
dignity, it puts intrinsic worth in the person, and puts a more excellent
spirit in them than that which is in the world, as is said of Caleb, and,
besides, it entitles to the greatest happiness imaginable.
Sermon XXXVI.
Verses 14, 15.—“For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they
are the sons of God. For ye have not received the spirit of
bondage again to fear,”, &c.
Children do commonly resemble their parents, not only in the outward
proportion and feature of their countenances, but also in the disposition
and temper of their spirits, and generally they are inclined to imitate
the customs and carriage of their parents, so that they sometimes may be
accounted the very living images of such persons; and in them men are
thought to outlive themselves. Now, indeed, they that are the sons of God
are known by this character, that they are led by the Spirit of God. And
there is the more necessity and the more reason, too, of this resemblance
of God and imitation of him in his children, because that very divine
birth that they have from heaven consists in the renovation of their
natures and assimilation to the divine nature, and, therefore, they are
possessed with an inward principle that carries them powerfully towards a
conformity with their heavenly Father, and it becometh their great study
and endeavour to observe all the dispositions and carriage of their
heavenly Father, which are so honourable and high, and suitable to
himself, that they at least may breathe and halt(212) after the imitation
of him. Therefore our Lord exhorts us, and taketh a domestic example and
familiar pattern to persuade us the more by, “Be ye perfect, as your
heavenly Father is perfect,” Matt. v. 48. And there is one perfection he
especially recommends for our imitation, mercifulness and compassion
towards men, opposed to the violence, fury, and implacableness, to the
oppression, and revenge, and hatred that abounds among men, Luke vi. 36.
And, generally, in all his ways of holiness and purity, of goodness and
mercy, we ought to be followers of him as dear children, who are not only
obliged by the common law of sympathy between parents and children, but,
moreover, engaged by the tender affection that he carrieth to us, Eph. v.
1. Now, because God is high as heaven, and his ways and thoughts and
dispositions are infinitely above us, the pattern seems to be so far out
of sight that it is given over as desperate by many to attempt any
conformity to it. Therefore it hath pleased the Lord to put his own Spirit
within his own children, to be a bosom pattern and example, and it is our
duty to resign ourselves to his leading and direction. The Spirit brings
the copy near hand us, and though we cannot attain, yet we should follow
after. Though we cannot make out the lesson, yet we should be scribbling
at it, and the more we exercise ourselves this way, setting the Spirit’s
direction before our eyes, the more perfect shall we be.
It is high time, indeed, to pretend to this, to be a son or a daughter of
God. It is a higher word than if a man could deduce his genealogy from an
uninterrupted line of a thousand kings and princes. There is more honour,
true honour, in it, and profit too. It is that which enriches the poorest,
and ennobles the basest, inconceivably beyond all the imaginary degrees of
men. Now, my beloved, this is the great design of the gospel, to bestow
this incomparable privilege upon you, “to become the sons of God.” But it
is sad to think how many souls scarce think upon it, and how many delude
themselves in it. But consider, that as many as are the sons of God, are
led by the Spirit of God,—they have gotten a new leader and guide, other
than their own fancy or humour, which once they followed in the ignorance
of their hearts. It is lamentable to conceive how the most part of us are
acted,(213) and driven, and carried headlong, rather than gently led, by
our own carnal and corrupt inclinations. Men pretending to Christianity,
yet hurried away with every self-pleasing object, as if they were not
masters of themselves, furiously agitated by violent lusts, miscarried
continually against the very dictates of their own reason and conscience.
And I fear there is too much of these even in those who have more reason
to assume this honourable title of sonship. I know not how we are
exceedingly addicted to self-pleasing in every thing. Whatsoever our fancy
or inclination suggests to us, that we must do without more bands, if it
be not directly sinful. Whatsoever we apprehend, that we must vent and
speak it out, though to little or no edification. Like that of Solomon, we
deny our hearts nothing they desire, except the grossness of it restrain
us. Now, certainly if we knew what we are called to, who are the sons of
God, we could not but disengage more with ourselves, even in lawful
things, and give over the conduct of our hearts and ways to the Spirit of
our Father whom we may be persuaded of, that he will lead us in the ways
of pleasantness and peace.
Now, the special and peculiar operations of the Spirit are expressed in
the following words. There are some workings of the Spirit of God that are
but introductory and subservient to more excellent works, and, therefore,
they are transient, not appointed to continue long, for they are not his
great intendment. Of this kind are those terrible representations of sin
and wrath, of the justice of God, which put the soul in a fear, a
trembling fear, and while such a soul is kept within the apprehension of
sin and judgment, it is shut up, as it were, in bondage. Now, though it be
true, that in the conversion of a sinner, there is always something of
this in more or less degrees, yet because this is not the great design of
the gospel, to put men in fear, but rather to give them confidence, nor
the great intendment of God in the dispensation of the law, to bring a
soul in bondage under terror, but rather, by the gospel, to free them from
that bondage, therefore he hath reason to express it thus: “Ye have not
received the spirit of bondage again to fear,” &c. But there are other
operations of the Spirit, which are chiefly intended, and principally
bestowed, as the great gift of our Father, to express his bounty and
goodness towards us, and from these he is called the Spirit of adoption,
and the Spirit of intercession. The Spirit of adoption, not only in regard
of that witness-bearing and testification to our consciences of God’s love
and favour, and our interest in it, as in the next verse, but also in
regard of that child-like disposition of reverence and love and respect
that he begets in our hearts towards God, as our Father. And from both
these flows this next work, “crying, Abba, Father,” aiding and assisting
us in presenting our necessities to our Father, making this the continued
vent of the heart in all extremities, to pour out all that burthens us in
our Father’s bosom. And this gives marvellous ease to the heart, and
releases it from the bondage of carefulness and anxiety, which it may be
subject to, after the soul is delivered from the fear and bondage of
wrath.
Let us speak, then, to these in order. The first working of the Spirit is,
_to put a man in fear of himself_, and such a fear as mightily straitens
and embondages the soul of man. And this, though in itself it be neither
so pleasant nor excellent as to make it come under the notion of any gift
from God, it having rather the nature of a torment and punishment, and
being some sparkle(214) of hell already kindled in the conscience, yet,
hath made it beautiful and seasonable in its use and end, because he makes
it to usher in the pleasant and refreshing sight of a Saviour, and the
report of God’s love to the world in him. It is true, all men are in
bondage to sin and Satan, and shut up in the darkness of ignorance and
unbelief, and bound in the fetters of their own lusts, which are as the
chains that are put about malefactors before they go to prison. “He that
commits sin, is a servant of sin,” John vii. 34. And to be a servant of
sin is slavery under the most cruel tyrant. All these things are, yet how
few souls do apprehend it seriously, or are weary of their prison! How few
groan to be delivered! Nay, the most part account it only liberty, to hate
true delivery as bondage. But some there are, whose eyes the Spirit of God
opens, and lets them see their bondage and slavery, and how they are
concluded under the most heavy and weighty sentence that ever was
pronounced,—the curse and wrath of the everliving God, that there is no
way to flee from it, or escape it, for any thing they can do or know. Now,
indeed, this serious discovery cannot choose but make the heart of a man
to tremble, as David, “My flesh trembleth for fear of thee, and I am
afraid of thy judgments,” Psal. cxix. 120. Such a serious representation
will make the stoutest and proudest heart to fall down, and faint for fear
of that infinite intolerable weight of deserved wrath, and then the soul
is in a sensible bondage, that before was in a real, but insensible
bondage,—then it is environed about with bitter accusations, with dreadful
challenges,—then the law of God arrests and confines the soul within the
bounds of its own accusing conscience. And this is some previous
representation of that eternal imprisonment and banishment from the
presence of God. Albeit many of you are free from this fear, and enjoy a
kind of liberty to serve your own lusts, and are not sensible of any
thraldom of your spirits, yet certainly the Lord will sometime arrest you,
and bring you to this spiritual bondage, when he shall make the iniquities
of your heels encompass you about, and the curses of his law surround you.
When your conscience accuseth, and God condemneth, it may be too late, and
out of date.
Alas! then what will you do, who now put your conscience by,(215) and will
not hearken to it or be put in fear by any thing which can be represented
to you? We do not desire to put you in fear, where no fear is, but where
there is infinite cause of fear, and when it is possible that fear may
introduce faith, and be the forerunner of these glad tidings that will
compose the soul. We desire only you may know what bondage you are really
into, whether it be observed or not, that you may fear, lest you be
enthralled in the chains of everlasting darkness, and so may be persuaded
to flee from it before it be irrecoverable. What a vain and empty sound is
the gospel of liberty by a Redeemer, to the most part who do not feel
their bondage? Who believes its report, or cares much for it—because it is
necessity that casts a beauty and lustre upon it, or takes the scales off
our eyes, and opens our closed ears?
Now for you, who either are, or have been, detained in this bondage, under
the fearful apprehension of the wrath of God, and the sad remembrance of
your sins, know that this is not the prime intent and grand business, to
torment you, as it were, before the time. There is some other more
beautiful and satisfying structure to be raised out of this foundation. I
would have you improve it thus, to commend the necessity, the absolute
necessity, of a Redeemer, and to make him beautiful in your eyes. Do not
dwell upon that, as if it were the ultimate or last work, but know that
you are called in this rational way, to come out of yourselves into this
glorious liberty of the sons of God, purchased by Christ, and revealed in
the gospel. Know, “you have not received the spirit of bondage” only “to
fear,” but to drive you to faith in a Saviour. And then you ought so to
walk, as not to return to that former thraldom of the fear of wrath, but
believe his love.
Sermon XXXVII.
Verses 14, 15.—“For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they
are the sons of God. For ye have not received the spirit of
bondage again to fear, but ye have received the Spirit of
adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.”
The life of Christianity, take it in itself, is the most pleasant and
joyful life that can be, exempted from those fears and cares, those
sorrows and anxieties, that all other lives are subject unto, for this of
necessity must be the force and efficacy of true religion, if it be indeed
true to its name, to disburden and ease the heart, and fill it with all
manner of consolation. Certainly it is the most rich subject, and most
completely furnished with all variety of delights to entertain a soul,
that can be imagined. Yet, I must confess, while we consult with the
experience and practice of Christians, this bold assertion seems to be
much weakened, and too much ground is given to confirm the contrary
misapprehensions of the world, who take it to be a sullen, melancholic,
and disconsolate life, attended with many fears and sorrows. It is, alas!
too evident, that many Christians are kept in bondage, almost all their
lifetime, through fear of eternal death. How many dismal representations
of sin and wrath, are in the souls of some Christians, which keep them in
much thraldom? At least, who is it that is not once and often brought in
bondage after conversion, and made to apprehend fearfully their own
estate, who hath such constant uninterrupted peace and joy in the Holy
Ghost, or lies under such direct beams of divine favour, but it is
sometimes eclipsed, and their souls filled with the darkness of horror and
terror? And truly the most part taste not so much sweetness in religion as
makes them incessant and unwearied in the ways of godliness. Yet,
notwithstanding of all this, we must vindicate Christianity itself, and
not impute these things unto it which are the infirmities and faults of
the followers of it, who do not improve it unto such an use or use it so
far as in itself it is capable. Indeed, it is true that often we are
brought to fear again, yet withal it is certain that our allowance is
larger, and that we have received the Spirit, not to put us in bondage
again to fear, but rather to seal to our hearts that love of God, which
may not only expel fear but bring in joy. I wish that this were deeply
considered by all of us, that there is such a life as this
attainable,—that the word of God doth not deceive us in promising fair
things which it cannot perform, but that there is a certain reality in the
life of Christianity, in that peace and joy, tranquillity and serenity of
mind that is holden out, and that some have really found it, and do find
it, and that the reason why all of us do not find it in experience, is not
because it is not, but because we have so little apprehension of it and
diligence after it. It is strange that all men who have pursued
satisfaction in the things of this life, being disappointed, and one
generation witnessing this to another, and one person to another, that,
notwithstanding, men are this day as fresh in the pursuit of that, as big
in the expectations as ever. And yet, in this business of religion, and
the happiness to be found in it, though the oracles of God in all ages
have testified from heaven how certain and possible it is, though many
have found it in experience and left it on record to others, there is so
slender belief of the reality and certainly of it, and so slack pursuit of
it, as if we did not believe it at all. Truly, my beloved, there is a
great mistake in this, and it is general too. All men apprehend other
things more feasible and attainable than personal holiness and happiness
in it, but truly, I conceive there is nothing in the world so practicable
as this,—nothing made so easy, so certain to a soul that really minds it.
Let us take it so then, the fault is not religion’s, that those who
profess it are subject to so much fear and care, and disquieted with so
much sorrow. It is rather because Christianity doth not sink into the
hearts and souls of men, but only puts a tincture on their outside, or
because the faith of divine truths is so superficial, and the
consideration of them so slight, that they cannot have much efficacy and
influence on the heart, to quiet and compose it. Is it any wonder that
some souls be subject again to the bondage of fear and terror when they do
not stand in awe to sin? Much liberty to sin will certainly embondage the
spirit of a Christian to fear. Suppose a believer in Jesus Christ be
exempted from the hazard of condemnation, yet he is the greatest fool in
the world that would, on that account, venture on satisfaction to his
lusts. For though it be true that he be not in danger of eternal wrath,
yet he may find so much present wrath in his conscience as may make him
think it was a foolish bargain. He may lose so much of the sweetness of
the peace and joy of God as all the pleasures of sin cannot compense.
Therefore to the end that you whose souls are once pacified by the blood
of Christ, and composed by his word of promise, may enjoy that constant
rest and tranquillity as not to be enthralled again to your old fears and
terrors, I would advise and recommend to you these two things:—One is,
that you would be much in the study of that allowance which the promises
of Christ afford. Be much in the serious apprehension of the gospel, and
certainly your doubts and fears would evanish at one puff of such a rooted
and established meditation. Think what you are called to, not “to fear”
again, but to love rather, and honour him as a Father. And, then, take
heed to walk suitably and preserve your seal of adoption unblotted,
unrusted. You would study so to walk as you may not cast dirt upon it, or
open any gap in the conscience for the re entry of these hellish-like
fears and dreadful apprehensions of God. Certainly, it is impossible to
preserve the spirit in freedom if a man be not watchful against sin and
corruption. David prays, “re establish me with thy free Spirit,” as if his
spirit had been abased, embondaged, and enthralled by the power of that
corruption. If you would have your spirits kept free from the fear of
wrath, study to keep them free from the power of sin, for that is but a
fruit of this, and it is most suitable that the soul that cares not to be
in bondage to sinful lusts, should, by the righteousness of God, tempered
with love and wisdom, be brought under the bondage he would not, that is,
of fear and terror, for by this means the Lord makes him know how evil the
first is, by the bitterness of the second.
It is usual on such a scripture as this, to propound many questions, and
debate many practical cases as, whether a soul after believing can be
under legal bondage, and wherein these differ, the bondage of a soul after
believing, and in its first conversion, and how far that bondage of fear
is preparatory to faith, and many such like. But I choose rather to hold
forth the simple and naked truth for your edification, than put you upon
to entertain you in such needless janglings and contentions. All I desire
to say to a soul in bondage, is, to exhort him to come to the Redeemer,
and to consider that his case calls and cries for a delivery. Come, I say,
and he shall find rest and liberty to his soul. All I would say to souls
delivered from this bondage, is, to request and beseech them to live in a
holy fear of sin, and jealousy over themselves, that so they may not be
readily brought under the bondage of the fear of wrath again. Perfect love
casts out the fear of hell, but perfect love brings in the fear of sin. Ye
that love the Lord, hate ill, and if ye hate it, ye will fear it in this
state of infirmity and weakness, wherein we are. And if at any time ye,
through negligence and carelessness of walking, lose the comfortable
evidence of the Father’s love, and be reduced again to your old prison of
legal terror, do not despair for that, do not think that such a thing
could not befall a child of God, and from that ground do not raze former
foundations, for the scripture saith not, that whosoever believes once in
Christ, and receives the Spirit of adoption, cannot fear again; for we see
it otherwise in David, in Heman, in Job, &c., all holy saints. But the
scripture saith, Ye have not received the spirit of bondage for that end,
to fear again. It is not the allowance of your Father. Your allowance is
better and larger, if you knew it, and did not sit below it.
Now, the great gift, and large allowance of our Father, is expressed in
the next words, “But ye have received the Spirit of adoption,” &c, which
Spirit of adoption is a Spirit of intercession, to make us cry to God as
our Father. These are two gifts, adoption, or the privilege of sons and
the Spirit of adoption revealing the love and mercy of God to the heart,
and framing it to a soul like disposition. Compare the two states
together, and it is a marvellous change,—a rebel condemned, and then
pardoned, and then adopted to be a son of God,—a sinner under bondage, a
bond slave to sin and Satan, not only freed from that intolerable bondage,
but advanced to this liberty, to be made a son of God. This will be the
continued wonder of eternity, and that whereabout the song of angels and
saints will be. Accursed rebels expecting nothing but present death,
sinners arraigned and sentenced before his tribunal and already tasting
hell in their consciences, and in fear of eternal perishing, not only to
be delivered from all that, but to be dignified with this privilege, to be
the sons of God, to be taken from the gibbet to be crowned! That is the
great mystery of wisdom and grace revealed in the gospel, the proclaiming
whereof will be the joint labour of all the innumerable companies above
for all eternity. Now, if you ask how this estate is attainable, himself
tells us, John i. 12, “As many as believed (or received) him, to them he
gave the privilege to be the sons of God.” The way is made plain and easy.
Christ the Son of God, the natural and eternal Son of God, became the Son
of man. To facilitate this, he hath taken on the burden of man’s sin, the
chastisement of our peace, and so of the glorious Son of God he became
like the wretched and accursed sons of men, and therefore God hath
proclaimed in the gospel, not only an immunity and freedom from wrath, to
all that in the sense of their own misery cordially receive him as he is
offered, but the unspeakable privilege of sonship and adoption for his
sake, who became our elder brother, Gal. iv. 4, 5. Men that want children,
use to supply their want by adopting some beloved friend in the place of a
son, and this is a kind of supply of nature for the comfort of them that
want. But it is strange, that God having a Son so glorious, the very
character of his person, and brightness of his glory, in whom he delighted
from eternity,—strange, I say, that he should in a manner lose and give
away his only begotten Son, that he might by his means adopt others, poor
despicable creatures, yea, rebellious, to be his sons and daughters.
Certainly, this is an act infinitely transcending nature,—such an act that
hath an unsearchable mystery in it, into which angels desire to look and
never cease looking, because they never see the bottom of it. It was not
out of indigency he did it, not for any need he had of us, or comfort
expected from us, but absolutely for our necessity and consolation, that
he might have upon whom to pour the riches of his grace.
Sermon XXXVIII.
Verse 15.—“But ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we
cry, Abba, Father.”
“Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we
should be called the sons of God,” 1 John iii. 1. It is a wonderful
expression of love to advance his own creatures, not only infinitely below
himself, but far below other creatures, to such a dignity. Lord, what is
man that thou so magnified him! But it surpasseth wonder, that rebellious
creatures, his enemies, should have, not only their rebellions freely
pardoned, but this privilege of sonship bestowed upon them, that he should
take enemies, and make sons of them, and not only sons, but heirs,
co-heirs with his own only begotten Son. And then, how he makes them sons,
is as wonderful as the thing itself, that he should make his own Son our
brother, “bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh,” and make him spring
out as a branch or rod out of the dry stem of Jesse, who himself was the
root of all mankind. This is the way, God sent his Son, made of a woman,
under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons, Gal. iv. 5. The
house of heaven marries with the earth, with them who have their
foundation in the dust, the chief heir of that heavenly family joineth in
kindred with our base and obscure family, and by this means we are made of
kin to God. “But of him are ye in Christ Jesus,” 1 Cor. i. 30. It behoved
Christ, in a manner to lose his own sonship as to men, to have it so
veiled and darkened by the superadded interest in us, and his nearness to
us. He was so properly a Son of man, subject to all human infirmities,
except sin, that without eyes of faith, men could not perceive that he was
the Son of God. And by this wonderful exchange are we made the sons of
God. Whoever, in the apprehension of their own enmity and distance from
God, receive Christ Jesus, offered as the peace, the bond of union between
the two families of heaven and earth, that were at an infinite odds and
distance, whoever (I say) believes thus in him, and flies to him, desiring
to lay down the weapons of their warfare, their peace is not only made by
that marriage which Christ made with our nature, but they are blessed with
this power and privilege, to be the sons and daughter of the Most High.
And from thence you may conclude, that if God be your Father, you can want
nothing that is good. But the determination of what is good for you,
whether in spiritual enlargements, or in the things of this life, you must
refer to his wisdom, for his love indeed is strong as death, nothing can
quench it. In the point of reality and constancy, there is nothing to
shadow it out among men. The love of women is earnest and vehement, but
that is nothing to it, (Isa. xlix. 15,) for they may forget, but he
cannot. Yet his love is not a foolish dotage, like mans that is often
miscarried with fancy and lust; but it is a rational and wise affection,
administered and expressed with infinite reason and wisdom; and therefore,
he chooses rather to profit us than to please us in his dealings. And we
who are not so fit to judge and discern our own good, should commit all to
his fatherly and wise Providence. Therefore, if you be tempted to anxiety
and carefulness of mind, either through the earthliness of your
dispositions, or the present straits of the time, you who have resigned
yourself to Jesus Christ, should call to mind that your heavenly Father
careth for you. And what need you care too? Why not use your lawful
callings, be diligent in them? This is not to prejudge that, but if you
believe in God, then you are obliged by that profession to abate from the
superfluous tormenting thoughtfulness that is good for nothing but to make
you more miserable than your troubles can make you, and to make you
miserable before you be miserable, to anticipate your sorrows. If you say,
God is your father, you are tied to devolve yourselves over on him, and
trust in his good will and faithfulness, and to sit down quietly as
children that have parents to provide for them.
Now, the other gift is great too, “the Spirit of adoption,” and because ye
are sons, therefore hath he given you “the Spirit of his Son,” saith this
apostle, Gal. iv. 6. And so it is a kind of consectary(216) of the great
privilege and blessed estate of adoption. They who adopt children, use to
give them some kind of token to express their love to them. But as the
Lord is higher than all, and this privilege to be his son or child is the
greatest dignity imaginable, so this gift of his Spirit suits the
greatness and glory and love of our Father. It is a father’s gift indeed,
a gift suitable to our heavenly Father. If a father that is tender of the
education of his child, and would desire nothing so much as that he might
be of a virtuous and gracious disposition, and good ingine,(217) I think
if he were to express his love in one wish, it would be this, that he
might have such a Spirit in him, and this he would account better than all
that he could leave him. But if it were possible to transmit a gracious,
well-disposed and understanding spirit from one to another, and if men
could leave it, as they do their inheritance to their children, certainly
a wise and religious parent would first make over a disposition of that to
his children; as Elisha sought a double measure of Elijah’s spirit, so a
father would wish such a measure to his children, and, if it were
possible, give it. But that may not be. All that can be done is to wish
well to them, and leave them a good example for imitation. But in this our
heavenly Father transcends all, that he can impart his own Spirit to his
adopted children, and his Spirit is in a manner the very essential
principle that maketh them children of the Father. Their natures, their
dispositions, are under his power. He can as well reform them, as you can
change your children’s garments. He can make of us what he will. Our
hearts are in his hand, as the water, capable of any impression he
pleaseth to put on it, and this is the impression he putteth on his
children, he putteth his Spirit in their hearts, and writeth his law in
their inward parts, a more divine and higher work than all human
persuasion can reach. This Spirit they receive as an earnest of the
inheritance, and withal, to make them fit for the inheritance of the
saints in light.
Now, the working of this Spirit of adoption, I conceive to be threefold,
beside that of intersession expressed in the verse. The first work of the
Spirit of adoption, that wherein a father’s affection seems to break first
from under ground, is, the revealing to the heart the love and mercy of
God to sinners. I do not say, to such a soul in particular, for that
application is neither first, nor universal. But herein the Spirit of
adoption first appears from under the cloud of fear; and this is the first
opening of the prison of bondage, wherein a soul was shut, when the plain
way of reconciliation to God in Christ, and delivery from the bondage of
sin and wrath, is holden out; when such a word as this comes into the
soul, and is received with some gladness, “God so loved the world that he
gave his Son,” &c. “This is a true and faithful saying,” &c. “Come, ye
that labour and are weary, and I will give rest to your souls.” When a
soul is made to hear the glad tidings of liberty preached to captives, of
light to the blind, of joy to the heavy in spirit, of life to the dead,
though he cannot come that length as to see his own particular interest,
yet the very receiving affectionately and greedily such a general report
as good and true, gives some ease and relaxation to the heart. To see
delivery possible, is some door of hope to a desperate sinner. But to see
it, and espy more than a possibility, even great probability, though he
cannot reach a certainty, that will be as the breaking open of a window of
light in a dark dungeon. It will be as the taking off of some of the
hardest fetters, and the worst chains, which makes a man almost to think
himself at liberty. Now this is the great office of the Spirit of the
Father, to beget in us good thoughts of him, to incline us to charitable
and favourable constructions of him, and make us ready to think well of
him, to beget a good understanding in us and him, and correct our jealous
misapprehensions of him. For certainly we are naturally suspicious of God,
that he deals not in sad earnest with us. Whenever we see the height of
our provocation, and weight of deserved indignation, we think him like
ourselves, and can hardly receive without suspicion the gospel that lays
open his love in Christ to the world.
Now, this is the Spirit’s work, to make us entertain that honourable
thought of God, that he is most inclinable to pardon sinners; and that his
mercy is infinitely above man’s sin; and that it is no prejudice to his
holiness or justice; and to apprehend seriously a constant reality and
solid truth in the promises of the gospel; and so to convince a soul of
righteousness, (John xvi.) that there is a way of justifying a sinner or
ungodly person, without wrong to God’s righteousness; and this being well
pondered in the heart, and received in love, the great business is done.
After that, particular application is more easy, of which I shall not
speak now, because occasion will be given in the next verse, about the
Spirit’s witnessing with our spirits, which is another of the Spirit’s
workings: only I say this, that which makes this so difficult, is a defect
in the first. But the common principles of the gospel are not really, and
so seriously apprehended, because many souls do not put to their seal to
witness to the promises and truth of it. Therefore the Lord often denies
this seal and witness to our comfort. It is certainly a preposterous way
Satan puts souls upon, first, to get such a testimony from the Spirit
before they labour to get such a testimony to Christ, and echo or answer
in their hearts to his word. This way seems shortest; for they would leap
into the greater liberty at the first hand. But certainly it is farthest
about, because it is impossible for souls to leap immediately out of
bondage to assurance, without some middle step. They cannot pass thus from
extremes to extremes, without going through the middle state of receiving
Christ, and laying his word up in the heart; and therefore it proves the
way furthest about, because when souls have long wearied themselves, they
must at length turn in hither.
But there is another working of the Spirit I wish you were acquainted
with. As the first work is to beget a suitable apprehension of God’s mind
and heart towards sinners, so the next is, to beget a suitable disposition
in our hearts towards God as a Father. The first apprehends his love, the
next reflects it back again with the heart of a sinner to him. The Spirit
first brings the report of the love and grace of God to us, and then he
carries the love and respect of the heart up to God.
You know how God complains in Malachi, “If I be a Father, where is my fear
and honour?” For these are the only fitting qualifications of children,
such a reverent, respective observance of our heavenly Father, such
affectionate and humble carriage towards him, as becometh both his majesty
and his love. As these are tempered one with another in him, his love not
abasing his majesty, and his majesty not diminishing his love; so we ought
to carry, as reverence and confidence, fear and love, may be contempered
one with another, so as we may neither forget his infinite greatness, nor
doubt of his unspeakable love. And this inward disposition engraven on the
heart, will be the principle of willing and ready obedience. It will in
some measure be our meat and drink to do our Father’s will. For Christ
gave us an example how we should carry towards him. How humble and
obedient was he, though his only begotten Son!
Sermon XXXIX.
Verse 15.—“Whereby we cry, Abba, Father.”
As there is a light of grace in bestowing such incomparably high dignities
and excellent gifts on poor sinners, such as, to make them the sons of God
who were the children of the devil, and heirs of a kingdom who were heirs
of wrath; so there is a depth of wisdom in the Lord’s allowance and manner
of dispensing his love and grace in this life. For though the love be
wonderful, that we should be called the sons of God; yet, as that apostle
speaks, it doth not yet so clearly appear what we shall be, by what we
are, 1 John iii. 1. Our present condition is so unlike such a state and
dignity, and our enjoyments so unsuitable to our rights and privileges,
that it would not appear by the mean, low, and indigent state we are now
into, that we have so great and glorious a Father. How many infirmities
are we compassed about with! How many wants are we pressed withal! Our
necessities are infinite, and our enjoyments no ways proportioned to our
necessities. Notwithstanding even in this, the love and wisdom of our
heavenly Father shows itself, and oftentimes more gloriously in the
theatre of men’s weakness, infirmities, and wants, than they could appear
in the absolute and total exemption of his children from necessities.
Strength perfected in weakness, grace sufficient in infirmities, hath some
greater glory than strength and grace alone. Therefore he hath chosen this
way as most fit for the advancing his glory, and most suitable for our
comfort and edification, to give us but little in hand, and environ us
with a crowd of continued necessities and wants within and without, that
we may learn to cry to him as our Father, and seek our supplies from him;
and withal he hath not been sparing, but liberal in promises of hearing
our cries and supplying our wants; so that this way of narrow and hard
dispensation, that at first seems contrary to the love and bounty and
riches of our Father, in the perfect view of it, appears to be the only
way to perpetuate our communion with him, and often to renew the sense of
his love and grace, that would grow slack in our hearts, if our needs did
not every day stir up fresh longing, and his returns by this means are so
much the more refreshing. There is a time of children’s minority when they
stand in need of continual supplies from their parents, or tutors, because
they are not entered in possession of their inheritance; and while they
are in this state, there is nothing more beseeming them, than in all their
wants to address to their father, and represent them to him; and it is fit
they should be from hand to mouth, as you say, that they may know and
acknowledge their dependence on their father. Truly this is our minority,
our presence in the body, which because of sin that dwells in it, and its
own natural weakness and incapacity, keeps us at much distance with the
Lord, that we cannot be intimately present with him. Now, in this
condition, the most natural, the most comely and becoming exercise of
children, is, to cry to our Father, to present all our grievances; and
thus to entertain some holy correspondence with our absent Father, by the
messenger of prayer and supplication, which cannot return empty, if it be
not sent away too full of self-conceit. This is the most natural breathing
of a child of God in this world. It is the most proper acting of his new
life, and the most suitable expiration of that Spirit of adoption that is
inspired into him, since there is so much life as to know what we want,
and our wants are infinite. Therefore that life cannot but beat this way,
in holy desires after God, whose fulness can supply all wants. This is the
pulse of a Christian, that goeth continually, and there is much advantage
to the continuity and interruptedness of the motion, from the infiniteness
and inexhaustedness of our needs in this life, and the continual assaults
that are made by necessity and temptation on the heart, “But ye have
received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry,” &c. He puts in his own
name in the latter part, though theirs was in the former part. When he
speaks of a donation or privilege, he supplies to the meanest, to show
that the lowest and most despised creature is not in any incapacity to
receive the greatest gifts of God; and then, when he mentions the working
of that Spirit in way of intercession, because it imports necessity and
want, he cares not to commit some incongruity in the language, by changing
the person, that he may teach us, that weakness, infirmities, and wants,
are common to the best and chiefest among Christians; that the most
eminent have continual need to cry, and the lowest and obscurest believers
have as good ground to believe the hearing and acceptance of their cries;
that the highest are not above the weakest and lowest ordinance, and that
the lowest are not below the comfort of help and acceptation in him. Nay,
the growth and increase of grace, is so far from exempting men from, or
setting them above, this duty of constant supplication, that by the
contrary, this is the just measure of their growth and altitude in grace.
As the degrees of the height of the water Nilus in its overflowing, are a
sure sign of the fertility or barrenness of that year, so the overflowings
of the spirit of prayer in one gives a present account how the heart
is,—whether barren and unfruitful in the knowledge of Jesus Christ, or
fruitful and lively, and vigorous in it. It is certain that contraries do
discover one another, and the more the one be increased, that is not only
the more incompatible and inconsistent with the other, but gives the most
perfect discerning of it. When grace is but as twilight in the soul, and
as the dawning of the day only, gross darkness and uncleanness is seen;
but the more it grow to the perfect day, the more sin is seen, and the
more its hated wants are discovered that did not appear; and therefore it
exerciseth itself the more in opposition to sin, and supplication to God.
To speak the truth, our growth here is but an advancement in the knowledge
and sense of our indigency,—it is but a further entry into the idolatrous
temple of the heart, which makes a man see daily new abominations worse
than the former. And therefore you may easily know that such repeated
sights and discoveries will but press out more earnest and frequent cries
from the heart. And such a growth in humility, and faith in God’s fulness,
will be but as oil to feed the flame of supplication. For what is prayer,
indeed, but the ardency of the affection after God, flaming up to him in
cries and requests?
To speak of this exercise of an holy heart, would require more of the
spirit of it than we have. But truly this is to be lamented, that though
there be nothing more common among Christians in the outward practice of
it, yet that there is nothing more extraordinary and rare, even among many
that use it, than to be acquainted with the inward nature of it. Truly,
the most ordinary things in religion are the greatest mysteries, as to the
true life of them. We are strangers to the soul and life of these things,
which consist in the holy behaviour and deportment of our spirits before
the Father of spirits.
These words give some ground to speak of some special qualifications of
prayer, and the chief principle of it. The chief principle and original of
prayer, is, the Spirit of adoption received into the heart. It is a
business of a higher nature than can be taught by precepts, or learned by
custom and education. There is a general mistake among men, that the gift
of prayer is attained by learning, and that it consists in the freedom and
plenty of expression. But O! how many doctors and disputers of the world
are there, that can defend all the articles of faith against the opposers
of them; yet so unacquainted are they with this exercise, that the poor,
and unlearned, and nothings in the world, who cannot dispute for religion,
send up a more savoury and acceptable sacrifice, and sweet incense to God
daily, when they offer up their soul’s desires in simplicity and
sincerity. Certainly this is a spiritual thing, derived only from the
Fountain of spirits,—this grace of pouring out our souls into him, and
keeping communication with him. The variety of words and riches of
expression is but the shell of it, the external shadow; and all the life
consists in the frame of the heart before God. And this none can put in
frame but he that formed the spirit of man within him. Some through custom
of hearing and using it, attain to a habit of expressing themselves
readily in it, it may be, to the satisfaction of others; but, alas! they
may be strangers to the first letters and elements of the life and spirit
of prayer. I would have you who want both, look up to heaven for it. Many
of you cannot be induced to pray in your family, (and I fear little or
none in secret, which is indeed a more serious work,) because you have not
been used, or not learned, or such like. Alas! beloved, this cometh not
through education, or learning. It cometh from the Spirit of adoption; and
if ye say, ye cannot pray, ye have not the Spirit; and if ye have not the
Spirit, ye are not the sons of God. Know what is in the inevitable sequel
of your own confessions.
But I haste to the qualifications of this divine work,—fervency,
reverence, and confidence; _fervency_ in crying, _reverence and
confidence_ in crying, “Abba, Father;” for these two suit well toward our
Father. The first, I fear, we must seek elsewhere than in prayer. I find
it spent on other things of less moment. Truly, all the spirit and
affection of men runs in another channel,—in the way of contention and
strife, in the way of passion and miscalled zeal, and because these things
whereabout we do thus earnestly contend, have some interest or coherence
with religion, we not only excuse but approve our vehemency. But O! much
better were that employed in supplications to God: that were a divine
channel. Again, the marrow of other men’s spirits is exhausted in the
pursuit of things in the world. The edge of their desires is turned that
way, and it must needs be blunted and dulled in spiritual things, that it
cannot pierce into heaven, and prevail effectually. I am sure, many of us
useth this excuse, who are so cold in it, that we do not warm ourselves.
And how shall we think to prevail with God? Our spirits make little noise
when we cry all the loudest. We can scarce hear any whisper in our hearts,
and how shall he hear us? Certainly it is not the extension of the voice
pleaseth him; it is the cry of the heart that is sweet harmony in his
ears. And you may easily perceive this, if you but consider that he is an
infinite Spirit, that pierceth into all the corners of our hearts, and
hath all the darkness of it as light before him. How can you think that
such a Spirit can be pleased with lip cries? How can he endure such deceit
and falsehood, (who hath so perfect a contrariety with all false
appearances,) that your heart should lie so dead and flat before him, and
the affection of it turned quite another way? There were no sacrifices
without fire in the Old Testament, and that fire was kept in perpetually;
and so no prayer now without some inward fire, conceived in the desires,
and blazing up and growing into a flame in the presenting of them to God.
The incense that was to be offered on the altar of perfume, (Exod. xxx.)
behoved to be beaten and prepared; and truly, prayer would do well to be
made out of a beaten and bruised heart, and contrite spirit,—a spirit
truly sensible of its own unworthiness and wants; and that beating and
pounding of the heart will yield a good fragrant smell, as some spices do
not till beaten. The incense was made of divers spices, intimating to us,
that true prayer is not one grace alone, but a compound of graces. It is
the joint exercise of all a Christian’s graces; seasoned with all. Every
one of them gives some peculiar fragrancy to it, as humility, faith,
repentance, love, &c. The acting of the heart in supplication, is a kind
of compend and result of all these, as one perfume made up of many
simples. But above all, as the incense, our prayers must be kindled by
fire on the altar. There must be some heat and fervour, some warmness,
conceived by the Holy Spirit in our hearts, which may make our spices send
forth a pleasant smell, as many spices do not till they get heat. Let us
lay this engagement on our hearts, to be more serious in our addresses to
God, the Father of spirits; above all, to present our inward soul before
him, before whom it is naked and open, though we do not bring it. And
certainly, frequency in prayer will much help us to fervency, and to keep
it when we have it.
Sermon XL.
Verse 15.—“Whereby we cry, Abba, Father.”
All that know any thing of religion, must needs know and confess that
there is no exercise either more suitable to him that professeth it, or
more needful for him, than to give himself to the exercise of prayer. But
that which is confessed by all, and as to the outward performance gone
about by many, I fear is yet a mystery sealed up from us, as the true and
living nature of it. There is much of it expressed here in few words,
“whereby we cry, Abba, Father.” The divine constitution and qualifications
of this divine work, are here made up of a temper of fervency, reverence,
and confidence. The first I spoke of before; but I fear our hearts were
not well heated then, or may be cooled since. It is not the loud noise of
words that is best heard in heaven, or that is constructed to be crying to
God. No, this is transacted in the heart more silently to men, but it
striketh up into the ears of God. His ear is sharp, and that voice of the
soul’s desires is shrill, and though it were out of the depths, they will
meet together. It is true, the vehemency of affection will sometimes cause
the extension of the voice; but yet it may cry as loud to heaven when it
is kept within. I do not press such extraordinary degrees of fervour as
may affect the body, but I would rather wish we accustomed ourselves to a
solid calm seriousness and earnestness of spirit, which might be more
constant than such raptures can be, that we might always gather our
spirits to what we are about, and avocate them from impertinent wanderings
and fix them upon the present object of our worship. This is to worship
him in spirit who is a Spirit.
The other thing that composes the sweet temper of prayer, is reverence.
And what more suitable, whether you consider him or yourselves? “If I be
your Father, where is my honour? and if I be your Master, where is my
fear?” Mal. i. 6. While we call him Father, or Lord, we proclaim this
much, that we ought to know our distance from him, and his superiority to
us. And if worship in prayer carry not this character, and express not
this honourable and glorious Lord, whom we serve, it wants that congruity
and suitableness to him that is the beauty of it. Is there any thing more
uncomely, than for children to behave themselves irreverently and
irrespectively towards their fathers, to whom they owe themselves? It is a
monstrous thing even in nature, and to nature’s light. O how much more
abominable must it be, to draw near to the Father of spirits, who made us,
and not we ourselves, in whose hand our breath is, and whose are all our
ways; in a word, to whom we owe not only this dust, but the living spirit
that animates it, that was breathed from heaven, and finally, “in whom we
live, and move, and have our being,” and well-being; to worship such an
one, and yet to behave ourselves so unseemly and irreverently in his
presence, our hearts not stricken with the apprehension of his glory, but
lying flat and dead before him, having scarcely him in our thoughts whom
we speak to. And finally, our deportments in his sight are such, as could
not be admitted in the presence of any person a little above ourselves,—to
be about to speak to them, and yet to turn aside continually to every one
that cometh by, and entertain communication with every base creature.
This, I say, in the presence of a king, or nobleman, would be accounted
such an absurd incivility, as could be committed. And yet we behave
ourselves just so with the Father of spirits.
O the wanderings of the hearts of men in divine worship! While we are in
communication with our Father and Lord in prayer, whose heart is fixed to
a constant attendance and presence, by the impression of his glorious
holiness? Whose Spirit doth not continually gad abroad, and take a word of
every thing that occurs, and so mars that soul correspondence? O that this
word (Psal. lxxxix. 7.) were written with great letters on our hearts,
“God is greatly to be feared in the assembly of the saints, and to be had
in reverence of all them that are about him.” That one word, _God_,
speaketh all. Either we must convert him into an idol, which is nothing;
or if we apprehend him to be GOD, we must apprehend our infinite distance
from him, and his unspeakable, inaccessible glory above us. He is greatly
feared and reverenced in the assemblies that are above, in the upper
courts of angels. Those glorious spirits who must cover their feet from
us, because we cannot see their glory; they must cover their faces from
him, because they cannot behold his glory, Isa. vi. What a glorious train
hath he, and yet how reverend are they? They wait round about the throne,
above and about it, as courtiers upon their king, for they are all
ministering spirits, and they rest not day and night to adore and admire
that holy One, crying, “Holy, holy, holy, the whole earth is full of his
glory.” Now, how much more then should he be greatly feared and had in
reverence in the assembly of his saints, of poor mortal men, whose
foundation is in the dust, and in the clay, and besides drink in iniquity
like water? There are two points of difference and distance from us. He is
nearer angels, for angels are pure spirits, but we have flesh, which is
furthest removed from his nature. And then angels are holy and clean; yet
theirs is but spotted to(218) his unspotted holiness. But we are defiled
with sin, which putteth us farthest off from him, and which his holiness
hath greatest antipathy at. Let us consider this, my beloved, that we may
carry the impression of the glorious holiness and majesty of God on our
hearts, whenever we appear before him, that so we may serve and rejoice
with trembling, and pray with reverence and godly fear. If we apprehend
indeed our own quality and condition, how low, how base it is, how we
cannot endure the very clear aspect of our own consciences, we cannot look
on ourselves steadfastly without shame and confusion of face, at the
deformed spectacle we behold. Much less would we endure to have our souls
opened and presented to the view of other men, even the basest of men. We
would be overwhelmed with shame if they could see into our hearts? Now
then, apprehend seriously what he is, how glorious in holiness; how
infinite in wisdom, how the secrets of your souls are plain and open in
his sight, and I am persuaded you will be composed to a reverend, humble,
and trembling behaviour in his sight.
But withal I must add this, that because he is your Father, you may
intermingle confidence; nay, you are commanded so to do, and this honours
him as much as reverence. For confidence in God, as our Father, is the
best acknowledgment of the greatness and goodness of God. It declareth how
able he is to save us, and how willing, and so ratifieth all the promises
of God made to us, and setteth to a seal to his faithfulness. There is
nothing he accounts himself more honoured by, than a soul’s full resigning
itself to him, and relying on his power and good-will in all necessities,
casting its care upon him, as a loving Father, who careth for us. And
truly, there is much beauty and harmony in the juncture of these two,
rejoicing with trembling, confidence with reverence, to ask nothing
doubting, and yet sensible of our infinite distance from him, and the
disproportion of our requests to his highness. A child-like disposition is
composed thus, as also the temper and carriage of a courtier hath these
ingredients in it. The love of his Father, and the favour of his Prince,
maketh him take liberty, and assume boldness; and withal he is not
unmindful of his own distance, from his Father or master. “Let us draw
near with full assurance of faith,” Heb. x. 22. There is much in the
scripture, both exhorted, commanded, and commended, of that παρρησια, that
liberty and boldness of pouring out our requests to God, as one that
certainly will hear us, and grant that which is good. Unbelief spoileth
all. It is a wretched and base spirited thing, that can conceive no
honourable thoughts of God, but only like itself. But faith is the
well-pleasing ingredient of prayer. The lower thoughts a man has of
himself, it maketh him conceive the higher and more honourable of God. “My
ways are not your ways, nor my thoughts as your thoughts, but as far above
as the heavens above the earth,” Isa. lv. 8. This is the rule of a
believing soul’s conceiving of God, and expecting from him; and when a
soul is thus placed on God, by trusting and believing in him, it is fixed;
“His heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord,” Psal. cxii. 7. O how wavering
and inconstant is a soul, till it fix at this anchor, upon the ground of
his immutable promises! It is tossed up and down with every wind, it is
double-minded; now one way, then another, now in one mind, and shortly
changed; and indeed the soul is like the sea, capable of the least or
greatest commotion, James i. 6-8. I know not any thing that will either
fix your hearts from wandering in prayer, or establish your hearts from
trouble and disquiet after it, nothing that will so exoner(219) and ease
your spirits of care as this, to lay hold on God as all-sufficient, and
lay that constraint on your hearts, to wait on him and his pleasure, to
cast your souls on his promises, that are so full and so free, and abide
there, as at your anchor-hold, in all the vicissitudes and changes of
outward or inward things. In spiritual things that concern your salvation,
that which is absolutely necessary, you may take the boldness to be
absolute in it, and as Job, “though he should slay me, yet will I trust in
him;” and as Jacob, “I will not let thee go till thou bless me.” But
either in outward things, that have some usefulness in them, but are not
always fittest for our chiefest good; or in the degrees of spiritual
gifts, and measures of graces, the Lord calls us without anxiety to pour
out our hearts in them unto him. But withal we would do it with submission
to his pleasure, because he knows best what is best for us. In these, we
are not bound to be confident to receive the particular we ask, but rather
our confidence should pitch upon his good-will and favour, that he will
certainly deny nothing that himself knows is good for us. And so in these
we should absolutely cast ourselves without carefulness upon his loving
and fatherly providence, and resign ourselves to him to be disposed of in
them as he sees convenient. There is sometimes too much limitation of God,
and peremptoriness used with him in such things, in which his wisdom
craves a latitude both in public and private matters, even as men’s
affections and interests are engaged. But ordinarily it is attended and
followed with shame and disappointment in the end. And there is, on the
other hand, intolerable remissness and slackness in many, in pressing even
the weightiest petitions of salvation, mortification, &c. which certainly
ariseth from the diffidence and unbelief of the heart, and the want of
that rooted persuasion, both of the incomparable necessity and worth of
the things themselves, and of his willingness and engagement to bestow
them.
The word is doubled here, “Abba, Father,” the Syriac and Greek word
signifying one thing, expressing the tender affection and love of God
towards them that come to him. “He that cometh to God must believe that he
is, and that he is a rewarder of them that seek him diligently.” So he
that cometh to God must believe that he hath the bowels and compassion of
a Father, and will be more easily inclined with our importunate cries,
than the fathers of our flesh. He may suffer his children to cry long, but
it is not because he will not hear, but because he would hear them longer,
and delights to hear their cry oftener. If he delay, it is his wisdom to
appreciate and endear his mercies to us, and to teach us to press our
petitions and sue for an answer.
Besides, this is much for our comfort, that from whomsoever, and
whatsoever corner in the world, prayers come up to him, they cannot want
acceptance. All languages, all countries, all places are sanctified by
Jesus Christ, that whosoever calls upon the name of the Lord, from the
ends of the earth, shall be saved. And truly it is a sweet meditation to
think, that from the ends of the earth, the cries of souls are heard; and
that the end is as near heaven as the middle; and a wilderness as near as
a paradise; that though we understand not one another, yet we have one
loving and living Father that understands all our meanings. And so the
different languages and dialects of the members of this body make no
confusion in heaven, but meet together in his heart and affection, and are
one perfume, one incense, sent up from the whole catholic church, which
here is scattered on the earth. O that the Lord would persuade us to cry
this way to our Father in all our necessities!
FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD
Or, Twenty-Eight Sermons on the First Epistle of John, Chapters I. and II.
Wherein The True Ground And Foundation Of Attaining The Spiritual Way Of
Entertaining Fellowship With The Father And The Son, And The Blessed
Condition Of Such As Attain To It, Are Most Succinctly And Dilucidly
Explained. To The Sincere Seeker After Fellowship With God, And Seriously
Heaven-Ward-Tending Christian.
Preface.
DEAR AND WELL-BELOVED FRIEND,
As thou art in thyself a rare jewel, a most precious stone, one of a
thousand, yea, of ten thousand, being compared with the many thousands of
common stones, I mean, external professors in the visible church, who rest
on a bare name, and of whom that is verified in every nation, which our
Saviour saith, Matth. xx. 16. “Many are called, but few are chosen;” and
of many of whom that is also too true in every generation, (and, oh! that
it were not too manifest in this also,) which Paul observed in his time,
Phil. iii. 18, 19. “For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now
tell you, even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ.
Whose end is destruction, whose god is their belly, and whose glory is in
their shame, who mind earthly things,”—and as to Christ thy Lord, most
comely “as the lily among thorns,” being his “love among the daughters,”
Cant. ii. 2. so also, thou, in a special way, art the dearly beloved and
longed for, the joy and crown, of every sincere servant of Christ in the
gospel, Phil. iv. 1. Thou art, if not the only, yet the chief object of
their labours, their work being either to confirm and strengthen thee in
thy way, that thou mayest so stand fast in the Lord, or remove
impediments, make crooked things straight, and so prepare the way of the
Lord before thee, or to guide thee by the light of God’s word in the dark
night of temptation and desertion. Now, as we are confident these sermons
were preached at first by that blessed, serious labourer in the work of
the ministry, Mr. Hugh Binning, with a special eye to the advancement of
sincere seekers after fellowship with God, and seriously
heaven-ward-tending Christians amongst his hearers, so to whom shall we
direct this posthumous, and alas! unperfected work, but to thee, (O
serious Christian,) who makest it thy work not only to seek after the
knowledge of God in Christ, in a mere speculative way, that thou mayest
know, and therein rest, as if thy work were done, but also to follow after
the enjoyment of that known God, and believed on Saviour, and all the
promised privileges of grace in this life, and of eternal glory in the
life to come. To thee especially belong these precious soul-ravishing
truths delivered in these sermons. Two things, we know, thou hast
determined thy soul unto, and fixed thine eye on, as thine aim and mark in
thy generation, viz. the light of knowledge and the life of practice. As
to knowledge, we are confident that with the apostle Paul, 1 Cor. ii. 2.
thou hast determined to know nothing but “Christ, and him crucified;” and
as to practice, with the said apostle thou prayest, that thou mayest be
sincere and without offence till the day of Christ, being filled with the
fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Christ unto the glory of God,
Phil. i. 10, 11; and that thou mayest be blameless and harmless, the son
of God without rebuke in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation,
shining as a light in the world, Phil. ii. 15. Now in reading these
sermons thou shalt perceive, that to help thee in both these, hath been
the very scope and design of this serious preacher. Desirest thou to know
Jesus Christ the Lord of life, either according to his eternal subsistence
in the infinite understanding of the Father, as God, or as to his
appearance in the flesh, as Man, or fitness as Mediator, to reconcile thee
to God his Father, both in respect of willingness and ability to save?
Then here thou shalt behold him delineate to the life. Wouldst thou be
clearly informed anent(220) the only true and sure foundation of
fellowship with God, the way of entertaining it, the honour or happiness
of it, and sweet fruits of it, that fulness of joy that accompanies it?
Here shalt thou find so clear a light as shall rejoice thy soul. Wouldst
thou be fortified against the incursions and recursions of sin and Satan?
Then come to this magazine, and be furnished abundantly. Desirest thou to
have thy soul increased in the love of God, and to see manifest
demonstrations of his love in Christ to thee? Oh! then turn in hither, and
get satisfaction to thy soul’s desires. If thou desirest with David, to
hate sin with a perfect hatred, here, if any where, thou shalt obtain thy
desire. Yet let none think that we limit the benefit and usefulness of
these sermons to serious Christians only, and so by consequence exclude
all others from any hope of soul-advantage in reading them. Nay, we
declare, that though it be undeniable, that John did write this epistle
with a special respect to the spiritual advantage of serious Christians,
and that this holy preacher also had this same design, yet we dare be bold
to invite all of what degree soever, to the serious perusing of them,
assuring them that in so doing they shall not find their labour in vain in
the Lord, for here are such pregnant demonstrations of a Deity, infinite,
eternal, omnipotent, incomprehensible, governing all things by the word of
his power, as may dash the boldness of the most metaphysical, notional, or
profanely practical atheist, and with conviction of spirit make him cry
out, as in Psal. lxxiii. 22. “So foolish was I and ignorant, I was as a
beast before thee!” Here are such clear discoveries of the vileness of
sin, of its direct opposition to a holy God, and his most holy will, of
its woful soul-damning effects, as may convince the most profane and
stout-hearted carnalist, and awake him out of his soul-destroying sleep of
security and presumption. Here are so glorious evidences of God’s free and
inconceivable love to the world, in Christ Jesus the Son of his love, as
are able to enlighten with the light of consolation, the sadliest dejected
and casten down soul, under the apprehension of the curse and wrath of God
due to it for sin, and raise it up to the hope of mercy in and through so
clearly a revealed Saviour. In a word, here are to be found convictions
for atheists, piercing rebukes to the profane, clear instructions to the
ignorant, milk to babes in Christ, strong meat for the strong, strength to
the weak, quickening and reviving for such as faint in the way,
restoratives for such as are in a decay, reclamations and loud oyeses(221)
after backsliders to reveal them, breasts of consolations for Zion’s
mourners, whether under the first convictions of the law, and pangs of the
new birth, or under the challenges and compunctions of heart for
recidivations and relapses after conversion, even while they are groaning
under the power and burden of the body of death, Rom. vii. And to add no
more, here are most excellent counsels and directions to serious seekers
of fellowship with God, to guide them in their way, and help them forward
to the attainment of that fulness of a joy which is to be had in
fellowship with the Father and the Son. That the Lord may bless all such
to whose hands these sermons shall come, with blessings suitable to their
soul’s condition, especially the serious Christian, for whose soul’s
furtherance and advancement these sermons were first penned, and now
printed, is the most affectionate desire of,
Thy servant in the gospel of our dearest Lord and Saviour, A. S.
Sermon I.
1 John i. 1.—“That which was from the beginning, which we have
heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked
upon, and our hands have handled, of the Word of life.”
It is the great qualification of a disciple, or hearer, to be attentive
and docile, to be capable of teaching, and to apply the mind seriously to
it. It is much to get the ear of a man. If his ear be gotten, his mind is
the more easily gained. Therefore, those who professed eloquence, and
studied to persuade men to any thing, used in the entry to fall upon some
thing that might stir up the attention of their hearers, or make them the
more inclinable to receive instruction, or catch their favour or
good-will, which is of great moment to persuasion, for it is sometimes fit
to open the passages of the heart by such means, that there may be the
more easy entry for instruction and persuasion. Truly there is something
of this art runs here in a divine channel; as indeed all these rules of
human wisdom attain their perfection, when they meet with a divine Spirit,
that elevates them to a more transcendent use. Happy was that eloquence of
Paul’s, and something like the sweet inspiration of angels, by which they
prevail with the spirits of men. “Nevertheless, being crafty, (saith he,)
I caught you with guile,” 2 Cor. xii. 16. These were _piæ fraudes_,(222)
whereby he used to catch poor souls out of the pit, and pluck them out of
the fire; and he that said, “I will make you fishers of men,” taught them
to use some holy deceit, to present some things for the allurement of
souls, and so to surround and enclose them with most weighty and
convincing reasons. This beloved apostle, who leaned upon Christ’s bosom,
and was likely to learn the very secrets of the art of fishing souls, you
see how he goeth about the business. He useth an holy art in this preface.
Being about to give a recapitulation of the whole gospel, and to make a
short summary of the doctrine of it, for the more effectual establishment
and confirmation of souls already converted, and for the powerful
persuasion of others to embrace it, he useth all the skill that can be in
the entry, to dispose men’s hearts to receive it. Like a wise orator, he
labours to make them _allentos, dociles, et benevolos_, to stir up their
attention, to conciliate their affection, and so to make them docile and
easily teachable. He stirs up attention, when he shows that he is not to
speak about trifling, light matters, or low things, or things that do not
concern them, but concerning the greatest, most concerning, and important
things to them, even the Word of life, in which all their life was wrapt
up, which, though it was ancient in itself, yet withal it was a new thing
to the world, and so for all respects deserved to be taken serious notice
of. Then he conciliates their benevolence and good will, by showing his
own good affection towards them, and his great design in it, that it was
only for their good and salvation; that he had nothing else before him,
but to have them partakers with himself, in that same happiness. He had
found a jewel, and he hides it not, but proclaims it, that all men may
have fellowship with him, and that is, with God, and that cannot but bring
in full joy to the heart. Now a soul being made thus attentive, and
willing to hear, it is the best disposition that makes them most capable
of being taught. If those two stays were come over,—the careless regard
that is in men’s hearts towards the gospel, and the suspicious thoughts
and prejudices against the ambassadors of it,—then what would hinder to
believe it? The great miseries of men are, inconsideration and
misapprehension. Either men are so noised with other things continually
buzzing in their ears, and their hearts so possessed with the clamours of
their lusts, and the cries of the things of this world, that they have no
leisure so much as to hearken patiently to this blessed sound, or to
apprehend seriously what weight and moment lies in it, and so the most
part of men cannot give that earnest and deep attention that is
necessarily required for this divine teaching, or else there are many
mistakes and misconceptions of the gospel, which sometimes arise to that
height of reasoning against God and prejudices against them that carry
this message, which usually are joined together, (and these stop the ears
of men against the wisest and most powerful enchantment of preaching,)
that it gains not much ground on them. O! that ye would once listen to
the gospel. Hearken and incline your ears unto me, is the Lord’s first
great request, and if once you do but seriously apply your minds and
hearts to see what is held out unto you, and to prove what good is in it
certainly these sure and everlasting mercies will mercifully and sweetly
catch you with guile, and deceive you (if I may say so) to your eternal
advantage. Wisdom, the Father’s wisdom, begs but an equal hearing of you.
Let her have but a patient hearing, and a silent impartial judgment of the
heart, and she will carry it off from all that suit(223) you. It is
lamentable that the voice of God should be out cried by men’s continual
uninterrupted flood of business, that fills the heart with a continual
noise, and keeps men in such a constant hurry and distemper that they can
give time and patience to nothing else. And this is only the advantage
the world and the lusts of it have, for if they come once under a sober
and serious examination, and the other party, that is, Jesus Christ and
the word of life, might have the liberty to be heard in the inward retired
thoughts of the heart, it would soon be found how unequal they are, and
that all their efficacy consists in our ignorance, and their strength in
our weakness. Certainly Christ would carry it, to the conviction of all
that is in the soul. I beseech you let us give him this attention.
He that answers a tale before he hears it, it is a folly and weakness to
him. A folly certainly it is to give this gospel a repulse before ye hear
it. It promiseth life and immortality, which nothing else doth. And you
entertain other things upon lower promises and expectations, even after
frequent experiences of their deceitfulness. What a madness then is it to
hear this promise of life in Christ so often beaten upon you, and yet
never so much as to put him to the proof of it, and to put him off
continually who knocks at your hearts, before you will consider
attentively, who it is that thus importunes you! O my beloved, that you
would hear him to Amen. Let him speak freely to your hearts, and commune
with them in the night on your beds, in your greatest retirement from
other things, that you may not be disturbed by the noise of your lusts and
business, and I persuade myself, you who have now least mind of this life,
and joy in God, should find it, and find it in him. But to cut off all
convictions and persuasions at first, and to set such a guard at your
minds to provide that nothing of that kind come in, or else that it be
cast out as an enemy, this is unequal, ignorant, and unreasonable dealing,
which you alone will repent of, it may be too late, when past remedy.
He propounds that which he is to speak in the fittest way, for the
commendation of it to their hearts, and oh! how vast a difference betwixt
this, and the ordinary subject of men’s discourses. Our ears are filled
continually with reports, and it is the usual way of men to delight to
hear, and to report even those things that are not so delightful in
themselves. And truly there are not many occurrences in the world
(suppose you had a diurnal of affairs of all men every week) that can give
any solid refreshment to the heart, except in the holy meditation of the
vanity, vexation, and inconstancy that God hath subjected all those things
unto. But it is sad that Christians, who have so noble and divine, so
pleasant and profitable things to speak upon one to another, are
notwithstanding as much subject to that Athenian disease, to be itching
after new things continually, and to spend our time this way, to report,
and to hear news. And, alas! what are those things that are tossed up and
down continually, but the follies, weaknesses, impotencies and wickedness,
ambition and avarice of men, the iniquity and impiety of the world that
lies in wickedness? And is there any thing in this, either pleasant or
profitable, that we should delight to entertain our own thoughts, and
others’ ears with them? But the subject that is here entreated of, is of
another nature. Nothing in itself so excellent, nothing to us so
convenient. That which was from the beginning, of the Word of life, we
declare unto you. O how pleasant and sweet a voice is that which sounds
from heaven, be those confused noises(224) are, that arise from the earth!
This is a message that is come from heaven, with him that came down from
it. And indeed that is the airth(225) from whence good news hath come.
Since the first curse was pronounced upon the earth, the earth hath
brought forth nothing but thorns and briars of contention, strife, sorrow,
and vexation. Only from above hath this message been sent to renew the
world again, and recreate it, as it were. There are four properties by
which this infinitely surpasses all other things that can be told you. For
itself it is most excellent; for its endurance it is most ancient, and to
us it is most profitable, and both in itself, and to us, it is most
certain, and by these the apostle labours to prepare their hearts to
serious attention.
For the excellency of the subject that he is to declare,—it is
incomparable, for it is no less than that Jewel that is hid in the mine of
the scriptures, which he, as it were, digs up, and shows and offers unto
them,—that Jewel (I say) which when a man hath found, he may sell all to
buy it,—that Jewel, more precious than the most precious desires and
delights of men, even Jesus Christ, the substantial Word of life, who is
the substance of all the shadows of the Old Testament, the end of that
ministry, the accomplishment of the promises, and the very life of all
religion, without which there is nothing more vain and empty. It is true,
the gospel is the word of life, and holds out salvation to poor sinners,
but yet it is Christ that is the life of that word, not only as touching
the efficacy and power of it, but as touching the efficacy of it, for the
gospel is a word of life only, because it speaks of him who is the life
and the light of men. It is but a report of the true life, as John said,
“I am not that light, but am sent to bear witness of that light,” John i.
8. So the gospel, though it be called “the power of God to salvation,”
(Rom. i. 16.) and “the savour of life,” and “the gospel of salvation,”
(Eph. i. 13.) yet it is not that true life, but only a testimony and
declaration of it. It hath not life and immortality in itself, but only
the bringing of those to light, and to the knowledge of men, 2 Tim. i. 10.
It is a discovery where these treasures are lying, for the searching and
finding.
To speak of this Word of life, Jesus Christ, according to his eternal
subsistence in the infinite understanding of the Father, would certainly
require a divine spirit, more elevated above the ordinary sphere of men,
and separate from that earthliness and impurity that makes us incapable of
seeing that holy and pure Majesty. Angels were but low messengers for
this. For how can they express to us what they cannot conceive themselves,
and therefore wonder at the mystery of it? I confess, the best way of
speaking of these things, which so infinitely surpass created capacities,
were to sit down in silence, and wonder at them, and withal to taste such
a sweetness, in the immense greatness and infinite mysteriousness of what
we believe, as might ravish the soul more, after that which is unknown,
than all the perfections of the world known and seen to the bottom can do.
This doctrine of the holy Trinity hath been propagated from the beginning
of the world, even among the heathens, and derived by tradition from the
first fathers, or the Hebrews, to neighbour nations; and therefore they
speak many divine things of that infinite, supreme Being, who is the
foundation of the whole creation, and that he created all things by his
most divine Word, and that his blessed Spirit is the union and bond of
both, and of all things besides. It is known what mysteries the
Pythagoreans(226) apprehended in the number of three, what perfection they
imagined to be in it, so much was let out, as might either make them
without excuse, or prepare the world to receive readily the light, when it
should be clearly revealed. It is commonly held forth, that this eternal
Word is the birth of the infinite understanding of God, reflecting upon
his own most absolute and perfect Being, which is illustrated by some poor
comparison to us creatures, who form in our minds in the understanding of
any thing, an inward word or image of the object some representation and
similitude of that we understand. And this is more perfect than any
external vocal expression can be. So we have a weak and finite conception
of the acting of that infinite wisdom of God, by which he knows himself,
that there results, as it were, upon it, the perfect substantial image,
and the express character of the divine essence, and therefore is the Son
of God called “the Word” which was with God, and “the Wisdom” of the
Father, because he is, as it were, the very birth of his understanding and
not only the image of his own essence but the idea, in which he conceived,
and by which he created the visible world. Then we use to conceive the
Holy Ghost as the production of his blessed will, whereby he loves,
delights and hath complacency in his own all sufficient, all blessed
Being, which he himself alone perfectly comprehends, by his infinite
understanding, and therefore called, “the Spirit,” a word borrowed from
resemblance to poor creatures, who have many impulses, and inclinations to
several things, and are carried to motion and action, rather from that
part which is invisible in them, the subtilest part, therefore called
spirits. So the Lord applies his almighty power, and exerciseth his
infinite wisdom according to the pleasure and determination of his will,
for that seems to be the immediate principle of working. Therefore there
is mention made of the Spirit, in the creation of the world. He sent out
his Spirit, and they were created, Psal. civ. 30. These are the weak and
low attempts of men to reach the height of that unsearchable mystery. Such
conjectures we have of this word of God, and his eternal generation, as if
trees could take upon them to understand the nature of beasts, or as if
beasts would presume to give an account of the spirit that acts in men.
Certainly the distance is infinitely greater between God and us and he
must needs behold greater vanity, folly, and darkness, in our clearest
apprehensions of his majesty than we could find in the reasonings and
conceptions of beasts about our nature. When our own conception in the
womb is such a mystery, as made David to say, O how wonderfully am I made,
and fearfully! he saw a curious art and wisdom in it that he could not
understand, and he believed an infinite power he could not conceive, which
surprised his soul with such unexpected matter of wonder, as made him fear
and tremble at the thought of it,—I say, when the generation of a poor
creature hath so much depth of wisdom in it, how canst thou think to
understand that everlasting wonder of angels, the birth and conception of
that eternal wisdom of God? And if thou canst not understand from whence
the wind comes, and whither it goes, or how thine own spirits beat in thy
veins, what is the production of them, and what their motions, how can we
then conceive the procession of the holy Ghost, “which eye hath not seen,
nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to consider it?”
Sermon II.
1 John i. 1.—“That which was from the beginning,” &c.
Things are commended sometimes, because they are ancient, especially
doctrines in religion, because truth is before error, and falsehood is but
an aberration from truth and therefore there is so much plea and
contention among men, about antiquity, as if it were the sufficient rule
of verity. But the abuse is, that men go not far enough backward in the
steps of antiquity, that is, to the most ancient rule, and profession, and
practice of truth in scripture, to Christ and his apostles, but halt in
their grandfathers’ tombs. But sometimes things are commended, because
new. The nature of man being inclined to change and variety, and ready to
surfeit and loath accustomed things, even as the stomach finds appetite
for new and unusual diets, so the mind of man hath a secret longing after
new doctrines and things. Now we have both these combined together in this
subject, which makes it the more excellent and wonderful,—antiquity, and
novelty, for antiquity, it is that which was from the beginning, and which
was with the Father, and that is before all antiquity, even from eternity,
not only from the beginning of time, but before all time, before all
imaginable beginnings. He, of whom he speaks, Christ Jesus, the Father’s
Word, was with the Father from the beginning, with the Ancient of days who
infinitely and unmeasurably antedates all antiquity, to whose endurance
all antiquity that is renowned among men, is but novelty, to whom the
world is but as of six days standing, or but as of yesterday, if we
consider that infinite, beginningless, immeasurable endurance of God,
before this world, what a boddom(227) or clew is that, that can never be
untwined by the imaginations of men and angels! To all eternity they
should never unwind it and come to the end of that thread of the age of
the Father and the Son, who possessed one another before the hills were,
and before the foundations of the mountains. This is it that maketh
religion the richest and most transcendent subject in the world, that it
presents us with a twofold eternity, and environs the soul before and
behind with an eternity without beginning, only proper to God, and an
eternity without and communicated to angels and men from God. That which
was from the beginning, and before all beginning, either real or imagined,
how much moment and weight is in that, to persuade a soul, and compose it,
beyond all the specious and painted appearances of the world! To consider
that such a Saviour is holden out unto us, to come unto, and lean upon,
that is the Rock of ages, upon whose word this huge frame is bottomed, and
stands firm,—one who infinitely exceeds and prevents all things visible or
invisible, all their mutations and changes,—one who was possessed of the
Father, as his delights, before the foundation of the world, and so most
likely to reconcile him to us, and prevail with him, yea, most certainly,
they must have one will, and one delight, who were undivided from all
eternity, and they then rejoicing in the habitable parts of the earth,
taking complacency in their own thoughts of peace and good will they had
towards us, afterwards to break forth. And if both delighted in their very
projects and plots upon the business, what may we think the accomplishment
of the whole design will add, if it were possible to superadd to their
delight? I would have you upon this, to gather two considerations, for
your edification. One, to think what an incomparably excellent Saviour we
have, one with God, equal to him, yea, one with him from all eternity, and
so how strong a foundation there is for faith and confidence, what a Rock
to establish a tossed soul upon. Man’s misery and curse being for all
eternity, there is One to deliver from that, who was from all eternity.
And who could purchase unto us such absolute blessedness throughout all
eternity, who was not himself from all eternity? What marvellous congruity
and beauty is in the ways of God? How is all fitted and framed by infinite
wisdom, to the end that we may have strong consolation? Do you not see the
infinite evil and heinousness of sin, in the giving of such a precious
ransom for it? O how is the black visage of sin portrayed in the beauty
and glory of the Mediator’s person? How is it painted, even to horror, in
his death? Again, what divinity and worth is put upon the immortal soul of
man, that is but of yesterday, since the beginning, when he that was the
delight of God, before all beginning, is weighed in the balance, as it
were with it, and no other thing found sufficient for exchange and
compensation, that the soul may be redeemed? And doth not this answer all
the jealousies and suspicious thoughts, and fearful apprehensions, arising
from the consideration of our own weakness and infirmity, when such an One
is offered, as is able to save to the utmost? Then I would desire you may
believe, that the Father is as well minded to the salvation of sinners, as
the Son, for they were sweet company together from all eternity, and, as
it were, contrived this plot and design between them, to save and redeem
mankind. Some entertain harsher thoughts of the Father, as if Christ were
more accessible, and exorable. But the truth is, he hath given his Son
this command, and therefore he professed, that it was not so much his
will, as his Father’s, he was about. Therefore correct your
apprehensions, do not stand aback from the Father, as it were till you
have prevailed with Christ. No, that is not the way. Come in your first
address to the Father, in the Son, for so he wills you, not because he
must be overcome by his Son’s persuasion but because he would have his
love to run in that channel through Christ to us. And indeed our Saviour
was much in holding out the love of the Father, and laboured to persuade
the world of it. Withal, I wish you to consider whom ye neglect and
despise who hear this gospel duly, and the Word of life holden out unto
you and yet suffer not your hearts to be moved, or stirred after him.
Alas, my beloved, to forsake so great a mercy, as the eternal Word of life
as the infinite Wisdom of the Father, and to let the offer of this every
day run by us, and never to find leisure and vacancy from the multitude of
businesses and throng of the thoughts and lusts of the world, never to
start so far backward, as to look beyond this world, to God, and his Son
Jesus Christ, never to mind seriously either him that was before all
things visible, or our own souls, that must survive and outlive all this
visible frame. This, I say, is the great misery and condemnation of the
world, that this eternal Light hath shined, and you love your own darkness
better. But be persuaded that one day ye will think one offer of this Word
of life better than life—better, infinitely better than the most absolute
life that the attendance and concurrence of all the creatures could yield
you. O then that ye would incline your ears and hearts to this that is
declared unto you to receive this Word of life that was from the
beginning, and ye may be persuaded ye shall enjoy a blessedness without
end!
But here is withal a newness in this subject, which both increases
admiration and may the more engage our affection. For “the life was
manifested” saith he, ver. 2, and he is such a Word of life as though he
was invisible and untouchable from the beginning, yet he was lately
clothed with flesh that made him both visible and capable of being
handled. Now truly these are the two poles about which the mystery, glory
and wonder of Christianity turns,—the antiquity of his real existence as
God, and the lateness or novelty of his appearance in the flesh as
man,—nothing so old, for he hath the infinite forestart of the oldest and
most ancient creatures. Take those angels, the sons of God, who sung
together in the first morning of the creation yet their generation can
soon be told, and their years numbered. It is easy to calculate all
antiquity, and we should not reach six thousand years, when it is taken at
the largest measure. And what are six thousand years in his sight, but as
six days when they are past? And if we would run backward, as far before
that point of beginning, and calculate other six thousand, yet we are
never a jot nearer the age of the Son of God. Suppose a mountain of sand
as big as the earth, and an angel to take from it one grain in every year,
your imagination would weary itself, ere ye reckoned in what space this
mountain should be diminished, or removed. It would certainly trouble the
arithmetic of the wisest mathematician. Now imagine as many years or ages
of years to have run out before the world took its beginning, as the years
in which the angel would exhaust this mountain, yet we have not come a
whit nearer the endurance of our Lord and Saviour, whose Being is like a
circle, without beginning or end. “Behold he is great and we know him not,
and the number of his years cannot be searched out,”? Job xxxvi. 26. And
who can tell his generation? The age of this Word is such a labyrinth,
with innumerable turnings and windings in it, as will always lead them
round that enter in it. And so they are, after the longest progress and
search, but just where they were, always beginning, and never coming
nearer the beginning of his duration, because it is the beginning of all
things that hath a beginning but hath none itself.
Now he that was thus blessed from everlasting, who dwelt in inaccessible
light and glory, which no man hath seen, nor can see, infinitely removed
from all human capacities and senses,—he, I say begins to be manifested in
the fulness of time. And to make himself visible, he takes on our
flesh,—and all for this purpose, that he who was the substantial life in
himself, and the eternal life, in an essential and necessary way, might
become life to poor dead sinners, and communicate to them eternal life.
And truly it was no wonder that all ages were in the expectation of this
from the beginning of the world since it was first promised,—that the
inhabitants of heaven were in a longing expectation to see and look into
this mystery, for there is something in it more wonderful than the
creation of this huge frame of heaven and earth, God’s footstool! The
thunder, how glorious and terrible a voice! In a word, the being, the
beauty the harmony, and proportion of this huge frame, is but a visible
appearance of the invisible God. But in taking on our flesh, the Word is
more wonderfully manifested, and made visible, for, in the first, the
Creator made creatures to start out of nothing at his command, but in
this, the Creator is made a creature. He once gave a beginning of being to
things that were not. Being before all beginning himself, he now takes a
beginning, and becomes flesh, that he was not. And what is it in which he
was manifested? Is it the spiritual nature of angels? But though that far
excel ours yet it is no manifestation of him to us, for he should still be
as unknown as ever. Is it in the glory, perfection, and power of the
visible world, as in the sun, and lights of heaven? But though that have
more show of glory than the flesh of man, yet it makes not much to our
comfort,—there would not be so much consolation in that manifestation.
Therefore, O how wisely and wonderfully is it contrived, for the good of
lost man that the Son of God shall be made of a woman, that the Father of
spirits shall be manifested in the lowest habit of our flesh, and the
lower and baser that be in which he appears, the higher the mystery is and
the richer the comfort is. Suppose the manifestation of glory should not
be so great, yet the manifestation of love is so much the greater. And
this is the great design, “God so loved the world” &c. John iii. Nay, I
may say, even the glory of the only begotten Son of God was the more
visibly manifested, that he appeared in so low and unequal a shape. For
power to show itself in weakness, for glory to appear in baseness, for
divinity to kythe(228) in humanity, and such glorious rays to break forth
from under such a dark cloud, this was greater glory, and more majesty,
than if he had only showed himself in the perfection of the creatures. Now
it is easy to distinguish the vail from that it covers,—to separate
infirmity from divinity. But then it had been more difficult, if his
outward appearance had been so glorious, to give unto God what was God’s,
and to give the creatures what was the creatures’. The more near his
outward shape had been to his divine nature, the less able had we been to
see the glory of his divinity through it.
Now, my beloved, when both these are laid together, the ancientness of our
Saviour, and withal the newness of his appearance in the flesh by which he
hath come so near us, and, as it were, brought his own Majesty within our
sphere, to be apprehended by us,—and for no other end but to make life and
immortality to shine forth as beams from him, to the quickening of dead
souls,—O how should this conjunction endear him to us! That the
everlasting Father should become a child for us, that is one wonder. The
next wonder is, that we who are enemies should be made the children of God
by him. When the dark and obscure prophesying of this,—when the twilight
of Jewish types and shadows did create so much joy in the hearts of
believers, insomuch that they longed for and rejoiced to see afar off that
day,—when such a dark representation of this Word of life, was the very
life of the godly in the world for four thousand years,—O how much is the
cause of joy increased, by the rising of the Sun of righteousness himself,
and his appearing in the very darkest night of superstition and idolatry
that ever was over the world! When the true Life hath risen himself, and
brought to open light that life that was obscurely couched up in
prophecies and ceremonies, as hid under so many clouds. O then, let us
open our hearts to him, and then entertain these new and fresh tidings
with new delights. Though these be now more than sixteen hundred years
old, yet they are still recent to a believing heart. There is an
everlasting spring in them, that sends out every day fresh consolation to
souls, as refreshing as the first day this spring was opened. This is the
new wine that never grows old, nay, it is rather every generation renewed,
with the accession of some new manifestation of the love of God. Christ’s
incarnation was the first manifestation of the Son, the very morning of
light and life, the dayspring visiting the world that was buried in an
hellish darkness of heathen idolatry, and even the church of God, in the
grave of superstition and corruption of doctrine and manners. Then did
that Sun of righteousness first set up his head above the horizon. But it
is but one day still. He hath been but coming by degrees to the meridian
and “shining more and more to the perfect day.” That Sun hath not set
since, but made a course, and gone round about the world, in the preaching
of the gospel, and brought life and light about, by succession, from one
nation to another, and one generation to another. And therefore we ought
to entertain it this day with acclamations and jubilation of heart, as the
people that lie under the north do welcome the sun when it comes once a
year to them. “After that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward
man appeared,” Tit. iii. 4, φιλανθρωπα, his kindly and affectionate love
to mankind. That is it that shines so brightly. The beams of grace and
love to men, are the rays that are scattered from this Sun of
righteousness. O the hardness of men’s hearts, the impenetrable obstinacy
of man, that this cannot melt or pierce! How damnable and miserable a case
are they into who can neither be persuaded with the eternity of this
subject, to adore it, nor moved with the late appearance of the love of
God to the world, in sending of his Son—whom neither Christ’s majesty nor
his humility can draw! Certainly this makes sinners under the gospel in a
more deplorable condition than Sodom, because if he had not come, they had
not had such sin, but now it is without excuse, &c.
Sermon III.
1 John i. 13.—“That which we have heard and seen of the Word of
life, declare we unto you,” &c.
Things that are excellent in themselves will be loved for themselves; but
they become the more suitable object of affection, if they have withal
some suitableness and conveniency to us. Yet neither the excellency nor
conveniency of the object is sufficient to engage the heart, if there be
not something in the mind too, suitable to the object; that is, the
apprehension of that reality and good that is in it. For, as there is a
certainty in the object, that makes it a real, not imaginary thing, so
there must be a certainty in the subject, whereby the thing is apprehended
to be true, good, and excellent, and then the object of affection is
completed. Some things there are in nature, excellent in themselves, but
they rather beget admiration than affection, because they are not suitable
to our necessities. Other things of a more ordinary purchase have some
conveniency to supply our wants, and though they be less worth in their
own nature than precious stones and such like, yet they are more desired.
But there is this lamentable disproportion betwixt our apprehensions and
the things themselves, which is the ground of much disappointment, and so
of vexation. The things of this world having nothing of that solid
excellency, or true worth, and conveniency to our souls nothing suitable
to our immortal spirits, but being empty vain shadows, and windy husks,
instead of substantial true food, yet there are high apprehensions, and
big conceits of them, which is a kind of monstrous production, or empty
swelling of the mind, which because it hath no bottom of solidity, it will
fail and vanish. Again, take a view of spiritual things, holden out in the
gospel, and there is as incongruous and unproportioned carriage of our
hearts toward them. They have a certainty and reality and subsistence in
themselves, they alone are excellent, and suitable to our spirits.
Notwithstanding, the mind of man is most hugely misshapen towards them by
unbelief, and hath nothing in his apprehension suitable to the things
themselves. They are represented as far below in the true worth, as things
temporal above their just value, and therefore men are not enamoured with
them, souls are not ravished after that beauty that is in them.
Now the end of these words read is, to reform this irregular, disorderly
posture of our minds, to hold out to you things truly excellent, and
exceedingly convenient,—things good and profitable, in the most
superlative degree, in the highest rank that your imaginations can
suppose, and then to persuade you, that you are not deceived with vain
words, or fair promises, but that there is a certain truth, and an
infallible reality in them, that you being ascertained in your souls,
according to the certainty of the thing presented, you may then freely,
without any reserve, give your hearts to love, embrace, and follow them. O
that there might be such a meeting between your hearts and this eternal
Life, that as he hath come near to us, to be suitable to us, your
apprehensions might draw near to be suitable to him, and by this means,
your souls might meet immediately with that Word of life, and have that
constant fellowship with him that is spoken of verse 3! So your joy should
be full,—for joy is but the full peace of the desires. Fill up all the
wants of the heart, and then it is full of joy. And so, when such a
satisfying object is pitched on, as doth exactly correspond, and answer
the inward apprehensions of the mind, then there is no more room in the
heart for any other thing,—as if two superficies were exactly plain and
smooth, they could join so closely together, that no air could come
between them, and then they could hardly be pulled asunder.
We spoke something of the excellency of that “Word of life” in himself,
and it is but little that is said, when all is said, in respect of that
which he truly is. But I fear we speak, and ye hear more of these things,
than either of us lively and affectionately apprehend, or lay up in our
hearts I fear, that as we say less than is, so more than we think, I mean,
seriously think upon. But we shall proceed. Such an everlasting glorious
person, though he have life in himself, though he be never so excellent as
“the Son of God,” yet what is that to us? It seems he is never a whit
nearer us, or not more suitable to restore us, than the very Majesty that
we offended. How far is he without our sight, and without our
comprehension? He is high as heaven, who shall ascend to bring down that
eternal Life to us? But stay and consider that he is not only so glorious
in himself, but so gracious to us, he is not only invisible, as God, but
manifested to our senses, as man: not only hath life in himself, but is an
everlasting spring of life to us; not only hath his throne in heaven with
his Father, but hath come down to the world, to bring that eternal life
near us even in our mouths and hearts,—to preach it, to purchase it, to
seal it, and to bestow it, and the life was manifested,—the life, and that
eternal life, words of force, that have some emphasis in them. The life is
much, that eternal life is more, and yet these had been little to us, if
not manifested to us. Life might have remained hid in God, eternal life
might have resided in Christ, the fountain, for all eternity, and nothing
diminished of their happiness if these had never sprung out and vented
themselves. If that life that was with the Father from the beginning had
never come down from the Father, we would have missed it, not they, we
alone had been miserable by it. Well then, there is a manifestation of
life in Christ’s low descent to death, there is a manifestation of the
riches of love and grace in the poverty and emptiness of our Saviour, and
thus he is suited to us and our necessities every way fitly correspondent.
And now it is not only, “as the Father hath life in himself, so the Son
hath life in himself,” but there is a derivation of that life to man. That
donation of life to the Son, John v. 26, was not so much for any need he
had of it, as by him to bestow it on us, that it might be, “As the living
Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father, so he that eats me, even he
shall live by me,” John vi. 57. As parents that retain affection to their
children, albeit they have committed great injuries, for which they are
driven out of their houses, yet they will, as it were, underhand bestow
upon them, and exercise that same love in a covered way, by a third
person, by giving to them, to impart to their children. Notwithstanding
this halts too much, for our Father dissembles not his love, but proclaims
it in sending his Son, not doth Christ hide it, but declares, that he is
instructed with sufficient furniture(229) for eternal life, that himself
is the bread of life sent from heaven, that whosoever receiveth it with
delight, and ponders, and meditates on it in the heart, and so digests it
in their souls, they shall find a quickening, quieting, comforting, and
strengthening virtue in him. Nay, there is a strait connection between his
life and ours, “because I live, ye shall live also;” as if he could no
more want us, than his Father can want him, (John xiv. 19.) and as if he
could be no more happy without us, than his Father without him. And whence
is it come to pass, but from his manifestation for this very end and
purpose? How should such strange logic hold? Whence such a _because_, if
this had not been all his errand into the world, for which his Father
dispensed to want him as it were, and he did likewise condescend to leave
his Father for a season? And now this being the business he came about, it
is strange he appeared in so unsuitable and unlikely a form, in weakness,
poverty, misery, ignominy, and all the infirmities of our flesh which
seemed rather contrary to his design, and to indispose him for giving life
to others whose life was a continued death in the eyes of men. And the
last act of the scene seems to blow up the whole design of quickening dead
sinners, when he who was designed Captain of salvation, is killed himself.
For if he save not himself, how should he save others? And yet behold the
infinite wisdom, power, and grace of God, working under ground, giving
life to the dead by the death of life itself, saving those that are lost
by one that lost himself, overcoming the world by weakness, conquering
Satan by suffering, triumphing over death by crying. Like that renowned
king of the Lacedemonians, who, when he heard of an oracle, that if the
general were saved alive, the army could not be victorious, changed his
habit, and went among the camp of his enemies, and fought valiantly till
he was killed, whom when the armies of the enemies understood to be the
king and general, they presently lost their hearts, and retired and
fled.(230) So our Saviour, and captain of our salvation, hath offered
himself once for all, and by being killed hath purchased life to all that
believe in his death, and that eternal life. Therefore, he is not only the
Word of life in himself, and that eternal life in an essential manner, but
he alone “hath the words of eternal life, and is the alone fountain of
life to us.”
Now for the certainty of this manifestation of the Word of life in our
flesh, both that he was man, and that he was more than a man, even God,
this, I say we have the greatest evidence of that the world can afford,
next to our own seeing and handling. To begin with the testimony set down
here, of those who were ear and eye witnesses of all, which, if they be
men of credit, cannot but make a great impression of faith upon others.
Consider who the apostles were, men of great simplicity, whose education
was so mean, and expectations in the world so low that they could not be
supposed to conspire together to a falsehood, and especially when there
was no worldly inducement leading them thereto, but rather all things
persuading to the contrary. Their very adversaries could never object any
thing against them, but want of learning, and simplicity which are
furthest from the suspicion of deceitfulness. Now how were it possible,
think you, that so many thousands every where, should have received this
new doctrine, so unsuitable to human reason, from their mouths, if they
had not persuaded them that themselves were eye witnesses of all these
miracles that he did, to confirm his doctrine, and that this testimony had
been above all imaginable exception? Yea, so evident was it in matter of
fact, that both enemies themselves confessed, the Jews and Gentiles that
persecuted that way, were constrained, through the evidence of the truth,
to acknowledge, that such mighty works showed forth themselves in him,
though they out of malice imputed it to ridiculous and blasphemous causes.
And besides, the apostle used to provoke(231) to the very testimony of
five hundred, who had seen Jesus rise from death, which is not the custom
of liars, neither is it possible for so many, as it were, of purpose, to
conspire to such an untruth, as had so many miseries and calamities
following on the profession of it, 1 Cor. xv. 6.
But what say they? That which we have heard of, not only from the
prophets, who have witnessed of him from the beginning, and do all
conspire together to give a testimony that he is the Saviour of the world,
but from John, who was his messenger, immediately sent before his face,
and whom all men, even Christ’s enemies, acknowledged to be a prophet, and
therefore his visible pointing out the Lamb of God, his declaring how near
he was, and preferring of him infinitely before himself, who had so much
authority himself, (and so likely to have spoken the truth, being misled
with no ambition or affectation of honour,) his instituting a new
ordinance, plainly pointing out the Messiah at the doors, and publishing
constantly that voice, “the kingdom of heaven is at hand,”—these we, and
all the people have heard,—and heard, not with indignation, but with
reverence and respect. But above all, we heard himself, the true prophet
and sweet preacher of Israel, since the first day he began to open his
mouth in the ministry of the gospel, we have with attentive ears, and
earnest hearts, received all from his mouth, and laid up these golden
sayings in our hearts. He did not constrain them to abide with him, but
there was a secret power that went from him, that chained them to him
inevitably, “Lord, whither shall we go from thee, for thou hast the words
of eternal life?” O! that was an attractive virtue, a powerful conserving
virtue, that went out of his mouth. We heard him, say they, and we never
heard any speak like him, not so much for the pomp and majesty of his
style, for he came low, sitting on an ass, and was as condescending in his
manner of speech as in his other behaviour, but because “he taught with
authority.” There was a divine virtue in his preaching. Some sparkles of a
divine Spirit and power in his discourses broke out from under the
plainness and simplicity of it, and made our souls truly to apprehend of
him what was sacrilegiously attributed in flattery to a man “the voice of
God, and not of man.” We heard him so many years speak familiarly to us,
and with us, by which we were certainly persuaded he was a true man and
then we heard him in his speeches open the hidden mysteries of the kingdom
of heaven, revealing the will of the Father, which no man could know, but
he that was with the Father, and came down from him. We heard him
unfolding all these shadows and coverings of the Old Testament, expounding
Moses and the prophets, taking off the veil, and uncovering the ark and
oracles and “how did our hearts burn within us, while he talked with us
and opened to us the scriptures?” We heard him daily in the synagogues
expound the scriptures, whereof himself was the living commentary. When he
read them, we saw the true exposition before our eyes.
Now, my beloved, you may be admitted to hear him too for the sum of the
living words that came from the “Word of life” are written. His sermons
are abridged in the evangelists, that you may read them and when you read
them, think within yourself, that you hear his holy mouth speak them. Set
yourselves as amongst his disciples that so ye may believe, and believing,
may have eternal life, for this end are they written, John xx. 30, 31.
Sermon IV.
1 John i. 1, 2.—“Which we have heard and seen,” &c.
There is a gradation of certainty here. Hearing himself speak, is more
than hearing by report, but an eye-witness is better that ten ear
witnesses, and handling adds a third assurance, for the sense of touching
gives the last and greatest evidence of truth. It is true, that the sense
is properly correspondent to sensible things, and of itself can only give
testimony to his humanity, yet I conceive these are here alleged for both,
even also to witness his glorious and divine nature, which though it did
not fall under sight and handling, yet it discovered itself to be latent,
under that visible covering of flesh, by sensible effects, no less than
the spirit of man, which is invisible, manifests its presence in the body,
by such operations sensible, as can proceed from no other principle. And
therefore, this faithful witness adds, “which we have looked upon,” which
relates not only to the outward attention of the eyes, but points at the
inward intention, and affection of the heart. Our senses did bring in such
strange and marvellous objects to our minds, that we stood gazing, and
beheld it over and over again, looked upon it with reason, concluding what
it might be. We gave entertainment to our minds, to consider it wisely and
deliberately, and fastened our eyes, that we might detain our hearts, in
the consideration of such a glorious person. From this then ye have two
things clear. One is, that the Lord Jesus Christ was a true man, and that
his disciples had all possible evidence of it, which the history more
abundantly shows. He conversed with them familiarly, he eat and drank with
them, yea his conversation in the world was very much condescending in
outward behaviour to the customs of the world. He eat with Pharisees, when
they invited him he refused not, but he was more bold with publicans and
sinners, to converse with them, as being their greatest friend. He was
uncivil to none, would deter none through a rigid austere conversation,
and indeed, to testify the truth of his human nature, he came so low as to
partake of all human infirmities without sin, and to be subject to such
extraordinary afflictions and crosses, as to the eyes of the world did
quite extinguish his divine glory, and bury it in misbelief. This which we
speak of, as a testimony and evidence that he was man, was the very grand
stumbling block and offence of the Jews and Gentiles, which they made use
of as an evidence and certain testimony that he was not God. The evidence
of the one seems to give an evidence to the other. But let us consider
this, for it is a sweet and pleasant subject, if our hearts were suitably
framed to delight in it, that there was as much evidence to the conviction
of all men’s senses, of his divine majesty, as of his human infirmity,—and
that there are two concurring evidences, which enlighten one another,
which we shall show, partly from his own works and miracles, and partly
from the more than miraculous success and progress of the gospel after
him.
For the first, John testifies, that not only they saw the baseness of his
outward shape, but “the glory of the only begotten Son of God, full of
grace and truth,” John i. 14. John the Baptist sent some of his disciples,
because of their own unbelief, to inquire at Jesus, “Art thou he, or look
we for another?” And what answer gave he them? What reason to convince
them? “Go (saith he) and tell what ye have seen and heard, that the blind
see, the lame walk, and the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead
are raised, and the poor receive the gospel.” And blessed is he whoever
shall not for my outward unseemliness and baseness offend, but go by that
into the glory that shines out in such works. It is said in Luke vii. 21,
that “the same hour he cured many.” Before he spoke in answer, he answered
them by his deeds. He gave a visible demonstration of that they doubted
of, for they could not but see a power above created power in these works,
which surpass nature and art, so many wonderful works done, so often
repeated, before so many thousands, even many of his watchful and
observant enemies, and all done so easily, by a word, infinite cures for
number and quality wrought, which passed the skill of all physicians,
devils dispossessed, life restored, water converted into excellent wine,
without the maturation of the sun, or the help of the vine tree, a little
bread so strangely enlarged to the satisfaction of many thousands, and
more remaining than was laid down, the winds and seas obeying his very
word, and composing themselves to silence at his rebuke, and infinite more
of this kind. Are they not in the common apprehension of men of a degree
superior to that of nature? Who could restore life but he that gave it?
Whom would the devils obey but him at whom they tremble? Who could
transubstantiate water into wine, but he that created both these
substances, and every year, by a long circuit of the operations of nature,
turns it into wine? Who could feed seven thousand with that which a few
persons would exhaust, but he that can create it of nothing, and by whose
word all this visible world started out of nothing? Nay, let us suppose
these things to be done only by divine assistance, by some peculiar divine
influence, then certainly, if we consider the very end of this miraculous
assistance of a creature, that it was to confirm the doctrine delivered by
him, and make such a deep impression of the truth of it in the hearts of
all, that it cannot be rooted out,—this being the very genuine end of the
wisdom of God in such works, it must needs follow, that all that which
Christ revealed, both of himself and the Father, of his own being with him
from the beginning, of his being one with him, and being his eternal Son,
all this must needs be infallibly true, for it is not supposable to agree
with the wisdom and goodness of God, to manifest so much of his infinite
power and glory, in so extraordinary a manner, to bear testimony to an
impostor or deceiver. Therefore, though no more could be at first extorted
from an enemy of Christ’s doctrine, but that such mighty works did show
forth themselves, which could not be done but by the divine assistance and
extraordinary help of God, yet, even from that confession it may be
strongly concluded, that seeing there was no other end imaginable of such
extraordinary assistance, but the confirmation of his new doctrine, and
that of his divine nature, being one of the chief points of it, it must
needs enforce, that he was not only helped by God, as Moses, but that he
was God, and did these things by his own power. By this, then, it appears,
that though after so many prophecies of him, and expectations from the
beginning, we see but a man, in outward appearance despisable, and without
comeliness and form, yet if we could open the eyes of our souls, and fix
them upon him, we behold, as through some small crannies, majesty shining
in his misery, power discovering itself in his weakness, even that power
that made the world, and man too. He was born indeed, yet of a virgin, he
was weak and infirm himself, yet he healed all others’ infirmities, even
by his word. He was often an hungered, yet he could feed five thousand at
one time, and seven thousand at another, upon that which would not have
served his disciples, or but served them. He was wearied with travels, yet
he gave rest to wearied souls. At length himself died, and that an
ignominious death, notwithstanding he raised the dead by his word and at
length he raised himself by his own power. All this is included in this,
“We have seen and handled.” We saw him gloriously transfigured on the
mount, where his countenance did shine as the sun and his raiment was
white as light, and two, the greatest persons in the Old Testament, came
out of heaven, as it were, to yield up the administration of shadows to
his substance. And we saw the heaven opening in the sight of many
thousands, and heard a testimony given him from heaven, “This is my
beloved Son, hear him.” And then, when he was buried, and our hope with
him, we saw him risen again, and our hope did rise with him, and then some
of us handled his sides to get full persuasion, and all of us ate and
drank, and conversed with him forty days. And to make a period, at length
we saw him ascending up to heaven, and a cloud receiving him as a chariot,
to take him out of our sight. Thus, “the Word was made flesh, and dwelt
among us, and we have seen his glory, as of the only begotten Son of God.”
But besides that which the life and death of Jesus Christ carries engraven
in it of divinity, there is one miracle, which may be said to transcend
all that ever was done, and it is one continued wonder since his
resurrection, even the virtue and power of that crucified Saviour to
conquer the world, by such unsuitable, yea, contrary means and
instruments. Heathenish religion was spread indeed universally through the
world, but that was not one religion, but one name. For as many nations,
as many fancied gods, and in one nation many. And true it is that
Mahometanism hath spread itself far. But by what means? Only by the power
of the sword, and the terror of an empire.(232) But here is a doctrine
contrary to all the received customs and inbred opinions of men, without
any such means prevailing throughout the world. Cyrus,(233) when he was
about to conquer neighbouring nations, gave out a proclamation, “If any
will follow me, if he be a foot man, I will make him an horse-man, if he
have a village, I will give him a city, if a city, I will bestow on him a
country;” &c. Now mark how contrary the proceeding of our Lord is . “Go
and preach, (saith he) repent ye, for the kingdom of God is at hand.” Here
is his proclamation, “Repent ye.” And, “If any man will be my disciple,
let him take up his cross and follow me, and deny himself.” What
disproportioned means! And yet how infinitely greater success! Cyrus could
not gain the Lacedemonians to his side for all that, but Christ, though
poor, despised, and contemptible while alive, and at length thought to be
quite vanquished by the most shameful death, when he is lifted up upon the
cross to the view and reproach of the world, he draws all men after him.
He, by a few fishermen, not commanders, nor orators, persuades the world,
and within a few years, that crucified Lord is adored further and wider
than any empire did ever stretch itself. All the power, majesty, and
success of Alexander, could never persuade the nations, no, not his own
followers, to adore him as God.(234) But here one nailed to the cross,
crowned with thorns, rejected of all men, and within a little space,
adored, worshipped, suffered for throughout the nations, yea, kings and
emperors casting down their crowns at his feet, many thousands counting it
their honour to die upon that account. And do not the trophies of these
apostolic victories remain to this day, in every corner of the world,
after so many hundred years, in so many different and so far distant
nations,—that same name preached and all knees bowing to it? These things
considered, how much done, and by means worse than nothing, it transcends
all the miracles that ever the world wondered at. Now, my beloved, these
things I mention for this end, that ye may be persuaded upon sure grounds,
that he who is preached unto you, is God able to save you, and according
to the evidence of these grounds, ye may believe in him, and give that
cordial assent to these everlasting truths, and that welcome entertainment
to him in your heart that becomes. I think certainly there is very little,
even of this solid assent and persuasion of the gospel, in the hearts of
the most part, because they take things or names rather implicitly, and
never seriously consider what they believe, and upon what grounds. But I
know not a more pleasant and profitable meditation than this, if we would
enter into a serious consideration of the truth and certainty of these
things we have received. O how would such evidence open the heart to an
entire and full closure with them, and embracement of them!
Sermon V.
1 John i. 3.—“That which we have seen and heard, declare we unto
you, that ye also may have fellowship with us,” &c.
There are many things that you desire to hear, and it may be are usually
spoken of in public, which the generality of men’s hearts are more carried
after. But truly, I should wrong myself and you both if I should take
upon me to discourse in these things, which, it may be, some desire, for
direction or information concerning the times, for I can neither speak of
them with so much certainty of persuasion as were needful, nor can I think
it an advantage, to shut out and exclude this which the apostle takes to
declare, as the chief subject of his writing, which must needs be, if such
things have place. Therefore I choose rather with the apostle to declare
this unto you, which I can always do with alike certainty and certainly
might always be done to an infinite greater advantage. There are these two
peculiar excellencies in the gospel or word of life, that it is never
unprofitable, nor unseasonable, but doth contain in it, at all times, the
greatest advantage to the souls of men, of infinite more concernment and
urgency than any other thing can be supposed to be. And then we have no
doubtful disputations about it. It varies not by times and circumstances.
It may be declared with the same full assurance at all times, which
certainly cannot be attained in other things. I would gladly know what
Paul meant, when he said, he determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ,
and him crucified, (1 Cor. ii. 2) and that he counted all dross and dung
to the super excellent knowledge of Jesus Christ, Phil. iii. 8. Sure it
must amount to so much at least, that this should be the ordinary subject
of the ministers of the gospel, since they are the ambassadors of Jesus
Christ, not the orators of the state. Should not all other things be
thought impertinent and trivial in respect of this,—the salvation of
sinners? And what hath a connection with that, but Jesus Christ and the
word of life?
But though this be the most pleasant and profitable subject, yet I fear
that few of them who pretend a calling to this embassage, are thus
qualified and disposed to speak and declare it, as the apostle imports,
“that which we have heard and seen,” &c. It is true, there was something
extraordinary in this, because they were to be first publishers of this
doctrine, and to wrestle against the rebellion of men’s hearts, and the
idolatry and superstition of the world,—yea, to undertake such a work, as
to subdue all nations by the preaching of a crucified man to them which
seemed to reason the most desperate and impossible employment ever given
or taken. Therefore, it behoved them to be the eye and ear witnesses of
his doctrine, life, miracles, and all, that being themselves persuaded
beyond all the degrees of certainty that reason can afford, they might be
the more confident and able to convince and persuade others. But yet there
is something that holds by good proportion, that he that declares this
eternal life to others should be well acquainted with it himself. He that
preaches Jesus Christ, should first be conversant with him, and become his
disciple and follower, before he can with any fruit become a teacher of
others. Therefore the apostles, (Acts 1) chose out one that had been with
them from the beginning, gone in and out with them, seen and heard all. O
how incongruous is it for many of us, to take upon us to declare this unto
others, which I fear, few can say they have heard and seen in a spiritual
manner, and handled by experience! No question, it prevails usually most
with the heart, that comes from the heart. Affection is the fire that is
most suitable to set affection on flame. It is a great addition to a man’s
power and virtue in persuading others, to have a full persuasion settled
in his own heart concerning these things. Now it is much to be lamented,
that there is so little of this, and so few carry the evidence on their
hearts and ways that they have been with Jesus conversant in his company.
I cannot say but the ordinances that carry their worth and dignity from
God, and not from men, should be notwithstanding precious to your hearts,
and that word of life, however, and by whomsoever sent, if to you it be
spoken, it should be suitably received with gladness of heart. But I
confess, there is much of the success disappointed, by the unsuitable
carriage and disposition of instruments, which ought to be mourned under,
as the greatest judgment of this nation.
Two principles hath acted this divine apostle, the exceeding love of his
Master, for he loved much as he was much beloved. And this carries him on
all occasions to give so hearty a testimony to him, as you see, John xxi.
24, he characterised himself, or circumscribes his own name thus “This is
the disciple that testifieth these things, and wrote these things, and we
know his testimony is true.” Where that divine love which is but the
result and overflowing of the love Christ carries to us, fills the heart,
this makes the sweetest vent and most fragrant opening of the mouth,
whether in discourse, or in prayer, or preaching, that can be. O how it
perfumes all the commendation of Christ! “Peter, lovest thou me? Feed my
sheep.” These have a natural connection together,—the love of Christ in
the heart, and the affectionate, hearty, serious declaration of him to
others. And then, another principle hath moved him,—the love of others’
salvation. “These things I declare, that ye may have fellowship with us.”
Finding in his own experience how happy he was, what a pearl he had found,
how rare a jewel,—eternal life,—he cannot hide it, but proclaims it. His
next wish is now since I am thus blessed, O that all the world knew, and
would come and share with me! I see that unexhausted fountain of
life,—that unemptiable sea of goodness,—that infinite fulness of grace in
Jesus Christ, that I, and you, and all that will, may come and be
satisfied, and nothing diminished. There is that immense fulness in
spiritual things, that superabundance and infinite excess over our
necessities, that they may be enjoyed by many, by all, without envy or
discontent, without prejudice to one another’s fulness which the
scantiness and meanness of created things cannot admit. I believe, if
ministers or Christians did taste of this, and had access into it to see
it, and bless themselves in it,—if they might enter into this treasury, or
converse into this company, they would henceforth carry themselves as
those who pity the world, and compassionate mankind. A man that were
acquainted with this that is in Christ, would not find his heart easily
stirred up to envy or provoked upon others’ prosperity or exaltation, but
rather he would be constrained to commiserate all others, that they will
not know nor consider wherein their own true tranquillity and absolute
satisfaction consists. He that is lifted up to this blessed society to
converge with God, were it not for the compassion and mercy he owes to
miserable mankind, he might laugh at the follies and vanities of the
world, as we do at children. But as the φιλανθρωπια, the affectionate,
kind love our Saviour carried to human nature, made him often groan and
sigh for his adversaries, and weep over Jerusalem, albeit his own joy was
full, without ebb, so in some measure a Christian learns of Christ to be a
lover and pitier of mankind, and then to be moved with compassion towards
others, when we have fullest joy and satisfaction ourselves. O that we
might be persuaded to seek after these things which may be gotten and kept
without clamour and contention,—about which there needs be no strife nor
envy! O! seek that happiness in fellowship with God, which, having
attained, you lack nothing but that others may be as happy.
“These things I declare, that ye may have fellowship with us.” O that
ministers of the gospel might say so, and might from their own experience
invite others to partake with them! As Paul requests others to be
followers of him, as he was of Christ, so those who succeed Paul in this
embassage of reconciliation, and are sent to call to the feast, might upon
good ground interpose their own experience thus. O! come and eat with
us,—O! come and share with us, for it will suffice us all without
division. When some get into the favour of great and eminent persons, and
have the honour to be their companions, they will be very loath to invite
promiscuously others to that dignity, this society would beget competition
and emulation. But O! of how different a nature is this fellowship, which
whosoever is exalted to, he hath no other grief, but that his poor
brethren and fellow creatures either know not, or will not be so happy!
Therefore he will always be about the declaring of this to others. But if
ministers cannot use such an expression to invite you to their fellowship,
yet I beseech you, beloved in the Lord, let all of us be here invited by
the apostle to partake of that which will not grieve you to have fellows
and companions into, but rather add to your contentment.
Moreover, this may be represented to you, that ye are invited to the very
communion with the apostles. The lowest and meanest amongst you hath this
high dignity in your offer, to be fellow citizens with the saints, with
the eminent pillars of the church,—the apostles.
It might be thought by the most part of Christians, who are more obscure,
little known, and almost despised in the world, that they might not have
so near access into the court of this great King. Some would think those
who continued with him in his temptations, who waited on his own person,
and were made such glorious instruments of the renovation of the world,
should have some great preference to all others, and be admitted into the
fellowship of the Father and the Son, beyond others, even as many would
think, that Christ’s mother and kinsmen in the flesh, should have had
prerogatives and privileges beyond all his followers. But O! the wonderful
mystery of the equal, free, and irrespective conveyance of this grace of
the gospel in Christ Jesus! Neither bond nor free, neither circumcision
nor uncircumcision. There is one “common salvation,” (Jude, ver 3,) as
well as “common faith,” Tit. i. 4, and it is common to apostles, to
pastors, to people, to “as many as shall believe in his name,” so that the
poorest and meanest creature is not excluded from the highest privileges
of apostles. We have that to glory into, in which Paul gloried,—that is,
the cross of Christ. We have the same access by the same Spirit, unto the
Father, we have the same Advocate to plead for us, the same blood to cry
for us, the same hope of the same inheritance. In a word, “we are baptized
into one body,” and for the essentials and chief substantiate of privilege
and comfort, the Head equally respects all the members. Yea, the apostles,
though they had some peculiar gifts and privileges beyond others, yet they
were forbidden to rejoice in these, but rather in those which were common
to them with other saints. “Rejoice not,” saith Christ, “that the spirits
are subject unto you, but rather rejoice because your names are written in
heaven,” Luke x. 20. The height and depth of this drown all other
differences.
Now, my beloved, what can be more said for our comfort? Would you be as
happy as John, as blessed as Paul? Would you think yourselves well if it
were possible to be in as near relation and communion with Christ as his
mother and brethren? Truly, that is not only possible, but it is holden
out to you, and you are requested to embrace the offer, and come and share
with them, “He that heareth my words and doeth them, the same is my
mother, and sister, and brother.” You shall be as dear to him as his
nearest relations, if you believe in him, and receive his sayings in your
heart. Do not then entertain jealous and suspicious thoughts, because you
are not like apostles or such holy men as are recorded in scripture. If
you forsake not your own mercy, you may have fellowship with them in that
which they account their chiefest happiness. There is no difference of
quality or condition, no distance of other things can hinder your
communion with them. There are several sizes and growths of Christians,
both in light and grace. Some have extraordinary raptures and ecstacies of
joy and sweetness, others attain not to that, but are rather kept in
attendance and waiting on God in his ways, but all of them have one common
salvation. As the highest have some fellowship with the lowest in his
infirmities, so the lowest have fellowship with the highest in his
privileges. Such is the infinite goodness of God, that which is absolutely
necessary, and most important either to soul or body, is made more
universal, both in nature and grace, as the common light of the sun to
all, and the Sun of righteousness too, in an impartial way, shining on all
them that come to him.
Sermon VI.
1 John i. 3.—“And truly our fellowship is with the Father, and
with his Son,” &c.
It was both the great wisdom and infinite goodness of God, that he did not
only frame a creature capable of society with others of his own kind, but
that he fashioned him so as to be capable of so high an elevation,—to have
communion and fellowship with himself. It is less wonder of angels,
because they are pure incorporeal spirits, drawing towards a nearer
likeness to his nature, which similitude is the ground of communion, but
that he would have one of the material and visible creatures below, that
for the one half is made of the dust of the earth, advanced to this
inconceivable height of privilege,—to have fellowship with him,—this is a
greater wonder, and for this end he breathed into man a spirit from
heaven, that he might be capable of conformity and communion with him who
is the Father of spirits. Now, take this in the plainest apprehension of
it, and you cannot but conceive that this is both the honour and happiness
of man. It is honour and dignity, I say, because the nature of that
consists in the applause and estimation of those that are worthy,
testified one way or another, and the highest degrees of it rise according
to the degree or dignity of the persons that esteem us, or give us their
fellowship and favour. Now, truly, according to this rule, the honour is
incomparable, and the credit riseth infinitely above all the airy and
fancied dignities of men. For the footstool to be elevated up to the
throne! For the poor contemptible creature to be lifted up to the society
and friendship of the most high and glorious God, the only Fountain of all
the hierarchies of heaven, or degrees upon earth! So much as the distance
is between God and us, so much proportionally must the dignity rise to be
advanced out of this low estate to fellowship with God. The distance
between creatures is not observable in regard of this, and yet poor
creatures swell if either they be lifted up a little above others or
advanced to familiarity with those that are above them. But what is it to
pride ourselves in these things when we are altogether, higher and lower,
at one view, as grasshoppers in his sight? Therefore, man being in honour,
and understanding not wherein his true honour and dignity consists, he
associates himself to beasts. Only the soul that is aspiring to this
communion with God, is extracted out of the dregs of beastly mankind, and
is elevated above mankind, and associated to blessed apostles, and holy
angels, and spirits made perfect. And that were but little, though it be
an honour above regal or imperial dignities, but it is infinitely
heightened by this,—that their association is with God, the blessed and
holy Trinity.
Now herein consists man’s happiness too, for the soul being enlarged in
its capacity and appetite far beyond all visible things, it is never fully
satiated, or put to rest and quiet, till it be possessed with the chiefest
and most universal good, that is, God. And then all the motions of desire
cease. Then the soul rests from its labours. Then there is a peace and
eternal rest proclaimed in the desires of the soul. “Return unto thy rest,
O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee,” Psal. cxvi. 7.
O what a poor short requiem do men sing to their own hearts from other
enjoyments! Oftentimes men’s hearts, whether dreaming or waking, speak in
this manner, Soul, take thy rest, but how ill grounded is that peace, and
how false a rest, daily experience in part witnesseth, and the last day
will fully declare. But O how much better and wiser were it for you to
seek the favour and light of his countenance upon you, and to be united to
him who is the Fountain of life, so ye might truly, without hazard of such
a sad reprehension as that fool got, or grievous disappointment, say,
Soul, take thy rest in God!
Man was advanced to this dignity and happiness, but he kept not his
station, for the great dragon falling down from that pinnacle of honour he
had in heaven, drew down with him the third part of the stars of heaven,
and cast them to the earth, and thus man, who was in honour, is now
associated with, and made like to, beasts or devils. He is a stranger to
God from the womb, all the imaginations of his heart tend to distance from
God. He is exiled and banished from God’s presence, the type whereof was
his being driven out of the garden. And yet he is not long out, nor far
away, when the infinite love of God moves an embassage to send after him
and to recall him. Many messengers are sent beforehand to prepare the way
and to depose men’s hearts to peace. Many prophecies were and fore
intimations of that great embassage of love, which at length appeared. For
God sent His Son, his own Son, to take away the difference, and make up
the distance. And this is the thing that is declared unto us by these eye
and ear witnesses, to this end, that we may know how to return to that
blessed society which we had forsaken to our own eternal prejudice. Is man
banished out of the paradise of God into the accursed earth? Then the Son
is sent out from his own palace and the paradise above, to come into this
world, and to save the world. Is there such a gulf between us and heaven?
Christ hath put his own body between to fill it up. Do the cherubim watch
with flaming fire to keep us from life? Then the Son hath shed his own
blood in abundance to quench that fire, and so to pacify and compose all
in heaven and earth. Is there such odds and enmity between the families of
heaven and earth? He sent his Son the chief heir, and married him with our
nature, and in that eternal marriage of our nature with him, he hath
buried in everlasting oblivion all the difference, and opened a way for a
nearer and dearer friendship with God than was before. And whence was it,
I pray you, that God dwelt among men, first, in a tabernacle, then in a
fixed temple, even among the rebellious sons of men, and that so many were
admitted and advanced again to communion with God? Abraham had the honour
to be the friend of God,—O incomparable title, comprehending more than
king or emperor! Was it not all from this, the anticipating virtue of that
uniting and peace-making sacrifice? It was for his sake who was to come
and in his flesh to lay a sure foundation for eternal peace and friendship
between God and man.
Now you see the ground of our restitution to that primitive fellowship
with God, my earnest desire is that ye would lay hold on this opportunity.
Is such an high thing in your offer? Yea, are you earnestly invited to it,
by the Father and the Son? Then sure it might at the first hearing beget
some inward desire, and kindle up some holy ambition after such a
happiness. Before we know further what is in it, (for the very first sound
of it imports some special and incomparable privilege,) might not our
hearts be inflamed, and ought not we to inquire at our own hearts, and
speak thus unto them: Have I lived so long a stranger to God, the fountain
of my life? Am I so far bewitched with the deceitful vanities of the
world, as not to think it incomparably better to rise up above all created
things, to communicate with the Father and the Son? And shall I go hence
without God and without Christ, when fellowship with them is daily,
freely, and plentifully holden forth? I beseech you, consider where it
must begin, and what must be laid down for the foundation of this
communion, even your union with Jesus Christ the Mediator between God and
man. And you cannot be one with him, but by forsaking yourselves, and
believing in him; and thence flows that constant abode and dwelling in
him, which is the mutual entertainment of Christ and a soul, after their
meeting together; “Can two walk together except they be agreed?” We are by
nature enemies to God. Now certainly reconciliation and agreement must
intervene by the blood of the cross, before any friendly and familiar
society be kept. Let this then be your first study, and it is first
declared in the gospel. Jesus Christ is holden out as partaking with you
in all your infirmities; he is represented as having fellowship with us in
our sins and curses, in our afflictions and crosses he hath fellowship in
our nature, to bear our sins and infirmities. Now, since he hath partaken
in these, you are invited to come and have fellowship with him in his
gifts and graces, in the precious merits of his death and suffering, in
his rising again and returning to glory. And this is the exchange he makes
and declares in the gospel: I have taken your sins and curses, O come and
take my graces, and that which is purchased by my blood. Now this is the
first beginning of a soul’s renewed fellowship with God, and it is the
foundation of all that is to come to embrace this offer, to accept him
cordially as he is represented, and to pacify and quiet our own hearts by
faith in that he hath done. And this being once laid down as the ground
stone, the soul will grow up into more communion with him.
To speak aright of this communion, would require more acquaintance with it
than readily will be found amongst us. But it is more easy to understand
in what it is exercised and entertained, than to bring up our hearts unto
it. Certainly, it must neither be taken so low and wide, as if it
consisted all in these external duties and approaches of men unto God; for
there is nothing capable of communion with the Father of spirits, but a
spirit. And, sure I am, the most part of us removes them, and acts little
that way. It is a lamentable thing, that men pretend to please God with
such vain empty shows, and bodily appearances, without any serious
exercise of their souls, and attention of their minds in divine worship.
Neither yet must it be taken so high, and made so narrow, as if it
consisted only in those ravishments of the soul after God, which are
joined with extraordinary sweetness and joy, or in such rare pieces of
access and liberty. For though that be a part of it, yet is it neither
universal to all God’s children, nor yet constant in any. There may be
some solid serious attendance on God in his ordinances, which may have
more true substantial life in it, and more of the marrow of Christianity
in it, though a soul should not be acquainted with these raptures, nor
ever carried without the line of an equal walking with God. Therefore that
which I would exhort you to, is to acquaint yourselves with Jesus Christ,
and you shall find a new way opened in him, by which you may boldly come
to God, and having come to God in him, you are called to walk with him to
entertain that acquaintance that is made, till all the distance and
estrangedness of your hearts be worn out. And I know not any thing which
is more apt either to beget or preserve this fellowship, than the
communication of your spirits often with him in prayer, and with his word
in meditation. And this is not to be discharged as a custom, but the love
of God within, drawing the heart willingly towards communication with him,
and constraining to pour out your requests to him, and wait on him, even
though ye should find that sensible sweetness that sometimes is found. It
were an happy advancement in this fellowship, if converse with God,
whether in prayer and solemn retirements, or in meditation, or in our
ordinary walking, were become the delight of our hearts, at least that
they might be carried that way towards the entertaining the thoughts of
his majesty, his glory, and grace, and goodness, and wisdom shining
everywhere, as from a natural instinct, even when we are not engaged with
the present allurements of that sweetness that sometimes accompanies it.
Sermon VII.
1 John i. 3, 4.—“And truly our fellowship is with the Father, and
with his Son Jesus Christ. And these things write we unto you,
that your joy may be full.”
It was sin that did first break off that fellowship that was between God
and man, and cut off that blessed society in which the honour and
happiness of man consisted. But that fundamental bond being loosed, it
hath likewise untied all the links of society of men among themselves, and
made such a general dispersion and dissipation of mankind, that they are
almost like wild beasts, ranging up and down, and in this wilder than
beasts, that they devour one another, which beasts do not in their own
kind, and they are like fishes of the sea, without rule and government.
Though there be some remnants of a sociable inclination in all men, that
shows itself in their combinings in societies, and erecting governments,
yet generally that which is the true bond and ligament of men, which alone
can truly knit them together, is broken,—that is, love, the love of God
and our neighbours. And therefore, notwithstanding of all the means used
to reduce, and to contain mankind in order and harmony by government, yet
there is nothing but continual rents, distractions, dissipations,
divisions, and dissolutions in commonwealths amongst themselves and
between nations, so that all men may be represented as lions, tigers,
wolves, serpents, and such like unsociable creatures, till the gospel come
to tame them and subdue them, as it is often holden out in the prophets,
Isa. ii. 4, xi. 6-8, lxv. 25.
Now indeed, you have here the express end and purpose of the gospel, to
make up these two great breaches in the creature, between God and men, and
between men and men. It is a gospel of peace. Wherever it takes hold of
men’s spirits, it reduceth all to a peaceable temper, joins them to God,
and one to another. For the very sum and substance of it is the love of
God to mankind, and proposed for this end, to engage the love of man
again, and love is the glue, the cement that alone will conjoin hearts
unto this fellowship. It is a strange thing, and much to be lamented, that
Christendom should be a field of blood, an aceldama, beyond other places
of the world, that where the gospel is pretended to be received, that men
have so far put off even humanity, as thus to bite and devour one another.
Certainly it is, because where it is preached, it is not believed.
Therefore, sin taketh occasion by it to become the more sinful. Always let
us take heed to this, that it is the great purpose and grand design of the
gospel preached to us, to restore us to a blessed society and fellowship
with the Father, and withal, to a sweet fellowship among ourselves, for
both you see are here.
We are called to fellowship with the Father, and what is that but to have
the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ thy Father, and thou to be his son by
adoption of grace? It is certainly the very marrow and extract of the
whole covenant, and all the promises thereof, “I will be your Father, and
ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty,” 2 Cor. vi.
18. “I go,” saith Christ, “to your Father and my Father, and to your God
and my God,” John xx. 17. O what a sweet complication and interchange of
relations!
“I will be your God, and ye shall be my people.” Here is the epitome of
all happiness and felicity. In this word all is enclosed, and without this
nothing is to be found that deserves the desires of an immortal spirit.
For hence it follows, that a soul is filled with the all fulness of God
(Eph. iii. 19), for that is made over to thee who believest the gospel,
and thou hast as real a right and title to it as men have to their
father’s inheritance. Then to have fellowship with his Son Jesus Christ is
another branch of this dignity, and this is that which introduceth the
other. Christ is the middle person, the Mediator between God and man,
given for this end,—to recover men from their woeful dispersion and
separation from God, and reduce them again to that blessed society. And,
therefore, our acquaintance, as it were, first begins with him, and by him
we are led to the Father. No man can come to the Father but by the Son,
therefore, if you have his friendship, you have done the business, for he
and his Father are one.
Now this fellowship, to branch it forth more particularly, is either real
or personal. Real, I mean κοι ωτια _bonorum_, a communion of all good
things, a communion with him in his nature, offices, and benefits,—and
this must be laid down as the foundation stone of this fellowship. He came
near us, to partake of flesh and blood with us, that we might have a way,
a new and living way, consecrated,—even the vail of his flesh, to come to
God by, for certainly this gives boldness to a soul to draw near to God
with some expectation of success and acceptation, when it is seriously
considered that our nature is so nearly conjoined already to God. By this
step a soul climbs up to the majesty of God, and by means of this we
become partakers of the divine nature, as God of human nature, 2 Pet. i.
4. So by the same degrees we ascend to God, that God hath descended to us.
He drew near us by our nature, and we, by the intervention of that same,
ascend to him, and receive his image and stamp on our souls for the Lord
did stamp his own image upon Christ’s human nature to make it a pattern to
us, and to represent to us, as in a visible symbol and pledge, what
impression he would put upon us. Then we have fellowship with him in his
offices. I need not branch them out severally. You know what he was
anointed for,—to be a Priest, to offer sacrifice, and to reconcile us to
God, and to make intercession for us,—to be a King, to rule us by his word
and Spirit, and defend us against our enemies,—to be a Prophet, to reveal
the will of God to us, and instruct us in the same. Here is a large field
of fellowship. We have admittance, by faith in Jesus Christ, to the real
advantage and benefit of all these. There is nothing in them but it
relates to us, and redounds to us. The living virtue of that sacrifice is
as fresh and recent this day, to send up a savour of rest to heaven and to
pacify a troubled conscience, as the first day it was offered. That
perfect sacrifice is as available to thy soul as if thou hadst offered it
thyself, and this day ye have the benefit of his prayers in heaven. We
partake of the strong cries and tears in the days of his flesh, and of his
intercession since, more than of our own supplications. What shall I say?
Ye have one to teach you all things that are needful for you, one to
subdue your sins under you, and, by virtue of fellowship with Jesus Christ
in these offices there is something derived from it, and communicated to
us by it, that we should be kings and priests to God our Father, kings, to
rule over our own spirits and lusts in as far as grace reigns in us to
eternal life, and that is truly an heroic royal spirit that overcomes
himself and the world, and priests, to offer unto God continually the
sacrifice of prayer and praise (1 Pet. ii. 5, 9), which are sweet-smelling
and pleasant in his sight. Yea, we should offer up our own bodies as a
reasonable service, Rom. xii. 1, and this is a holy and living sacrifice,
when we dedicate and consecrate all our faculties, members, and abilities
to his will and service, and do not spare to kill our lusts, which are his
and our enemies.
Let us sum up all in this,—whatsoever grace or gift is in Christ Jesus,
whatsoever pre-eminence he hath above angels and men, whatsoever he
purchased, he purchased by his obedient life and patience in death. There
is nothing of all that but the soul may be admitted to fellowship in it,
by its union with him by faith. Have him, and have all that he hath. Faith
makes him yours, and all that he hath is a consequential appendix to
himself. The word of the gospel offers him freely to you, with all his
benefits, interests, and advantages. O that our hearts may be induced to
open to him!
Now being thus united to Jesus Christ, that which I would persuade next to
is a personal communion, that is, a suitable entertainment of him, a
conjunction of your soul to him by love, and a conspiracy of all your
endeavours henceforth to please him. It is certain, that true friendship
is founded on a conjunction and harmony of souls by affection, by which
they cease to be two, and become in a manner one; for love makes a kind of
transport of the soul into another, and then all particular and proper
interests are drowned in oblivion,—no more mine and thine, but he makes an
interchange, mine thine, and thine mine, my heart thine, and thy honour
mine. Now, certain it is, that in this God hath given us a rare pattern,
and leads the way; for he declares his love to the world in the rarest
effects of it, which give the clearest demonstrations possible,—“God so
loved the world that he sent his Son.” And you have the most infallible
argument of the Son’s love,—“Greater love hath no man than this, to lay
down his life for his friends,”—but he for his enemies. Now, then, you see
how the heart of God and his Son Jesus Christ is fixed from everlasting on
the sons of men, so unalterably, and so fully set towards them, that it
hath transported the Son out of his own glory, and brought him down in the
state of a servant. But it is not yet known what particular persons are
thus fixed upon, until that everlasting love break out from underground,
in the engagement of thy soul’s love to him, and till he have fastened
this chain, and set this seal on thy heart, which makes thee impatient to
want him. Thou knowest not the seal that was on his heart from eternity.
But now the love of a believer being the result of his love,—this is it
that is the source and spring of constant communion, and it vents itself
in converse with God, and daily entertainment of him in our spirits and
ways. There is a keeping of company with him in prayer and meditation, and
all the ordinances. There is a communication and familiar conference of
the heart with him, either in thinking on him or pouring out our requests
to him. There is a mutual and daily intercourse and correspondence of that
soul with God, in answering his word by obedience, in praying to him, and
receiving answers from him, and then returning answer again with a letter
of thanks and praise, as it were. These are the ways to increase that love
of God, and kindle it up to a higher flame, and it being thus increased,
it gathers in all the endeavours and abilities of the soul, and sets all
on fire, as a sweet smelling sacrifice to please him. It is henceforth the
great study of the soul to remove all things that are offensive to him,
for the entertaining of sin, his enemy, is most inconsistent with this
true fellowship and friendship. “If I regard iniquity in my heart, the
Lord will not hear me,” Psal. lxvi. 18. This will mar that sweet
correspondence in prayer and praise, for it is a breach of peace and
covenant to regard and maintain his enemies. Therefore the soul that loves
God will study to compose itself in all things to his good pleasure, as
well as his love, that is strong as death, puts him upon a careful
watching, to do all things for our profit, and so this takes in our whole
carriage and walking, in religious approaches, or in common businesses, to
have this as our great design—conversing with God and walking to all well
pleasing.
Now, if we were once enrolled in this blessed fellowship with the Father
and the Son then it follows, as a fruit and result of this, that we should
have fellowship one with another. And truly the more unity with God, the
more unity among ourselves: for he is the uniting, cementing principle, he
is the centre of all Christians, and as lines, the farther they are from
the centre, the farther distant they are from one another, so the distance
and elongation of souls from God sets them at further distance amongst
themselves. The nearer we come every one to Jesus Christ, the nearer we
join in affection one to another, and this is imported in that of Christ’s
prayer, “That they may be one in us,” John xvii. 21, 22. No unity but in
that one Lord, and no perfect unity but in a perfect union with him. I
would exhort to study this more,—to have fellowship one with another, as
members of the same body, by sympathy, by mutual helping one another in
spiritual and temporal things. Even amongst Christians that live obscurely
in a city, or in a village, there is not that harmonious agreement and
consent of hearts, that contention and plea of love, of gentleness and
forbearance, who shall exercise most of that, but there are many
jealousies, heart burnings, grudgings, strifes, evil speakings, &c., to
the stumbling of others, and the weakening of yourselves, which certainly
argue that ye are much carnal, and walk as men, and that the love of God
and fellowship with him is waxed cold, and is languished and dead, &c.
Sermon VIII.
1 John i. 4.—“And these things write we unto you, that your joy
may be full.”
All motions tend to rest and quietness. We see it daily in the motions
below, and we believe it also of the circular revolutions of the heavens
above, that there is a day coming in which they shall cease, as having
performed all they were appointed for. And as it is in things natural, so
it is in things rational in a more eminent way. Their desires, affections,
and actions, which are the motions and stretches of the soul towards that
it desires and apprehends as good, tend of their own nature, and are
directed by the very intention of the soul to some rest and tranquillity,
some joy and contentation of spirit. If other things that have no
knowledge have their centre of rest, how much more must man, who is an
understanding creature, have it by the ordination and appointment of God!
But there is this wide difference in the point of capacity of happiness
between man and other creatures, that they, whatsoever excellent virtues
or properties they have, yet know them not themselves, and so can neither
enjoy what excellency themselves have, nor have use of what is in others.
For to what purpose is it to shine forth, if there be no eye to see? What
advantage hath the rose in its fragrancy, if it cannot smell itself? That
which is not perceived, is as if it were not. And therefore it is an
evident testimony, that all these visible things were created, not for
themselves, but for man’s sake, who knows them, can use them, and enjoy
them. Here is, then, the peculiar capacity that God hath given to man,—to
discern and know what he seeks, what he hath, and possesses, that so he
may be able to enjoy it, or use it, according to the nature of it. This is
a great point of God’s image and conformity with him, whose infinite
blessedness and joy riseth from that perfect comprehension and intuitive
beholding of himself, and his own incomprehensible riches. So then, man’s
happiness or misery must depend upon this,—both what the soul fixeth upon,
and what it apprehendeth to be in it. For if that eternal and universal
good, the all-fulness of God, be the centre of the soul’s desires and
endeavours, and there be apprehended and discovered in God that infinite
excellency and variety of delights which nothing else can afford so much
as a shadow of, then there cannot but result from such a conjunction of
the soul’s apprehension, suitable to the fulness of God, and of the
excellency and goodness of God, suitable to the desires of the soul, such
a rest and tranquillity, such joy and satisfaction, as cannot choose but
make the soul infinitely happier than the enjoyment of any other thing
could do.
This being the thing, then, which all men’s desires naturally tend unto,
this tranquillity and perfect satisfaction of the heart being that which
carries all men’s hearts after it, and that which men seek for itself, and
which they seek in all other things, the great misery of man is, that he
mistakes the way to it, and seeks it where it is not to be found. The
generality of men are so far degenerated, both from the impression of a
divine majesty, and the sense of an immortal being within themselves, that
they imagine to content and ease their own hearts in these outward,
inconstant, perishing things, and so their life is spent in catching at
shadows, in feeding on the wind, in labouring in the fire. There is
nothing so plentifully satisfies our expectations as can quit the cost,
and recompense the expense of our labour, toil, grief, and travail about
it. There is nothing therefore but a continual, restless agitation of the
heart from one thing to another, and that in a round, circling about, from
one thing that now displeases or disappoints to things that were formerly
loathed, as a sick man turns him from one side to another, or changes beds
often, and at length returns, expecting to find some ease where he lay at
first. And it may be judged that all circular motions are eternal, and so
they can never be supposed to attain their end,—that is, rest and
tranquillity. Therefore a soul thus carried in a round, by the vain
imaginations of his heart, is likely never to settle and find solid rest
and peace. Nay, how is it possible that they can give that tranquillity
and contentation to the heart and soul of man, that are so utterly in
their natures disproportioned to it, both because they are only suited to
the senses, and likewise for that they are changeable? Now the soul is
framed with a higher capacity, and can no more be satiated with visible
things, than a man that is hungry can be satisfied with gold; and besides,
it is immortal, and must have something to survive all the changes of
time, and therefore is likely to rest nowhere but in that which hath
eternal stability. Now, though these things cannot truly fill the heart,
yet they swell the belly, like the east wind, or like the prodigal’s
husks, fill it with wind, which causeth many torments and distempers in
the soul; and though they cannot give ease, yet they may be as thorns to
prick and pierce a man through with many sorrows, as our Saviour speaks.
So that there is no more wisdom or gain in this, than in gathering an
armful of thorns, and enclosing and pressing hard unto them,—the more
hardly and strongly we grip them, the more grievously they pierce us; or
as if a man would flee into a hedge of thorns in a tempest,—the further he
thrusts into it, he is the worse pricked: and that which he is fallen into
is worse than that he fleeth from. I am sure all your experiences give a
harmonious testimony to this, that there is no solid, permanent, constant,
and equable heart-joy and contentation in all the fancied and imaginary
felicities that this world adores. There is nothing of these things, that
is not lesser, and lower in actual possession, nor in the first
apprehension of them afar off. Nothing in them answers either our desires
or expectations; and therefore, instead of peace and tranquillity, they
breed more inward torment and disquiet, because of that necessary and
inevitable disappointment that attends them. Therefore the apostle passeth
all these things in silence, when he is to write of purpose, to give a
fulness of joy; for he knows that in them there is neither that joy, nor
that fulness of joy he would wish for from them; but it is other things he
writes for this end.
Now, indeed, there hath been some wiser than others, that have their
apprehension far above the rest of mankind, and have laboured to frame
some rules and precepts to lead man into this true rest and tranquillity.
And truly, in this they have done much to discover the vanity and madness
of the common practice of men, and to draw man from sensible and outward
things, to things invisible and spiritual. Yet there is a defectiveness in
all the rules that natural reason can reach unto. There is some
crookedness withal adheres to them, which shows our departure from our
original. There are many excellent discourses of morality in heathen
writings, which may be very subservient to a Christian, and useful to the
composing and settling of his mind, amidst all the fluctuations and
uncertainties of this world. They may come well in as subsidies and guards
to a Christian’s heart, to preserve that peace and joy it hath from God,
and keep out the ordinary tumultuous passions that disturb the most part
of men. But here is the lamentable failing, that while they call a man off
things without, as adventitious, they lead him but into his own spirit
within, as if he could there find that rest in the very enjoyment of his
poor, miserable, wretched self. But Christ Jesus calls us into our own
spirits, not to dwell there. For O what a loathsome and irksome habitation
is a defiled heart and a guilty conscience! But rather, that finding
nothing of that joy and refreshment within, we may then freely and fully
forsake ourselves, as well as the world without, and transport into God in
Christ, the only habitation of joy and delight, that being filled with
anguish from the world, and from ourselves, we may more willingly divorce
from both, and agree to join unto Jesus Christ, and to embrace him in our
hearts, who is the only Fountain of life and joy, who had no other errand
and business from heaven, but to repair man’s joy,—as grievous a breach as
any in the creation,—a thing as much missed and sought after as any thing,
yea, sought after in all things that are sought. John xv. 11. “These
things I have spoken to you, that your joy may be full.” Therefore the
apostle propounds this as the end of his writing on this subject,—the word
of life; these things write I “that your joy may be full;” and the way to
attain this fulness of joy, he expressed in the former verse,—by
fellowship with the Father and the Son.
That which makes all other things disproportioned to the soul of man, to
give it this joy, is the extreme unsuitableness between them. The soul
hath an infinite capacity, and besides, an immortality of endurance, but
they are condemned under impotency to supply that infinite void and
inconstancy, by which they must needs perish, and leave the soul without
all comfort, and with more anxiety. But in those things written here we
find all things suited and proportioned to the very great exigence of the
soul. There is a suitableness in them, because of their spiritual
nature, whereby they may close immediately with thy spirit. Other
things are material and corporeal, and what union, what fellowship can a
spirit be supposed to have with them? They are extrinsic, advenient
things, that never come to a nearer union with thy soul; and though they
could, they would debase thy soul, and not exalt it, because of a baser
inferior nature. But these things, Jesus Christ, eternal life in him,
these precious promises of the gospel, these spiritual privileges of
Son-ship, &c., these are of a more divine nature, and by meditation and
faith souls come to close with them. These are inward things more near
the soul that believes, than himself is to himself; and so he may always
carry them about in his heart, which may be a spring of everlasting joy.
This no man can take from him. John xvi. 22. For the ground and fountain
is inward, seated without the reach of all these vicissitudes and changes.
Then, as they have a suitableness, so they have a fulness in them, to
create fulness of joy. They are cordials to the heart, things that are in
their own nature refreshing to the soul, and apt to beget heart-joy. Other
things are not suitable to this, to produce any such inward
soul-complacency. The things that are from without reach not so deep as
the heart; they make their impressions rather on the outward senses, to
tickle and please them, or the countenance, to put some pleasing shape
upon it. But the wise man pronounceth all those joys that arise from
external things to be superficial, only skin-deep. “In the midst of
laughter the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is heaviness,”
Prov. xiv. 13. _Extrema gaudii luctus occupat_.(235) There is no solid
recreation to the soul in its retired thoughts, from all the delights of
the senses; it is but like the pleasure of the itch, which no man esteems
pleasure. But besides, as the things of the gospel affect the heart and
soul by bringing soul-mercies and treasures, as forgiveness of sin, hope
of heaven, &c., so there is a fulness in them, which may answerably fill
all the corners of the heart with joy. There is an unexhaustedness in
these things, an universality in Christ;—all in all, all the treasures of
wisdom are in him; and may not this cause surely an high spring-tide of
joy? The heart is eased upon the lowest clear apprehension of Christ and
the gospel. It gives a heart-serenity and calmness to a troubled soul,
that nothing else could do. Yet to make up the fulness of joy, as well as
the solidity of it, to extend the measure of it, as well as to beget the
true quality of it, it is requisite that not only there be a fulness in
the object,—that is, full, superabundant, ample matter of rejoicing; but
there must be a kind of fulness in the apprehension. It must be
represented fully as it is, and the clouds of unbelief scattered; and then
indeed, upon the full aspect of the gospel, and Christ in it, there is a
fulness of joy that flows into the soul, as the sea is filled upon the
full aspect of the moon. O that we could believe this, that there is a
fulness of joy here, and nowhere else! Certainly, this alone being
pondered and sunk into our hearts, would be a powerful reformer in us, and
among us. How would it carry men’s hearts to a disgracing and despising
all the things that are held in admiration by men! How would it turn the
channel of men’s judgments, opinions, affections, and conversations! For
certainly, whithersoever the tide of joy flows, thither the heart is
carried, and this it is that all men are seeking, though they take many
contrary and divers ways, as their own fancy leads them. Now, if once this
were established in thy soul, that here is that truth and fulness of joy,
which elsewhere is ignorantly and vainly sought, would it not divert thy
desires, and turn the current of thy affections and endeavours, to fall
into this ocean of gladness and delight? Elsewhere there is neither true
joy nor full joy,—_nec verum nec plenum gaudium_. There is no verity in
it; it is but an external garb and shadow, and there is no plenty or
fulness in it. It fills not the hand of the reaper, it satisfieth not his
very hunger. But here, when a soul is possessed with Christ by faith, and
dwelleth in God by love, there is both reality and plenty. All the
dimensions of the heart may be filled up. Some allegorize upon the
triangular composition of man’s heart, that no orbicular thing such as
this world can fill it exactly without vacuity, but only the blessed and
holy Trinity.(236) Truly we may conceive, this fulness of joy, excluding
all the latent griefs of the heart and filling up all the vacant corners
doth flow from that blessed fellowship of the Father and the Son. Now,
though these two be only mentioned yet the Holy Ghost must not be
excluded, for the apostolic prayer doth attribute chiefly our fellowship
with God to the Spirit, so that it is the Spirit unites our hearts, and
associates them to God, and that seems to correspond between him and us.
So then there is such a fellowship with the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
that leaves no vacuity in the heart, that fills all the dimensions and
corners of it with peace and joy.
But add unto this in the third place that these things have not only a
fulness, but, withal a durableness, not only plenty, but besides, eternity
and perpetuity, to correspond to the immortality of the soul. And this,
certainly, is a great congruity, and so makes up much beauty and harmony,
for what more incongruous and unsuitable than for an immortal spirit to
spend itself, and give up itself to that which is not which must leave it,
which is mortal, and fading in its own nature, without which it must
continue infinitely longer than it can enjoy it? And what more comely than
for an immortal thing to associate with eternal things, and to derive its
joy from an eternal spring? For, when all things visible are done away,
and things mortal abolished, then its joy none can take from it, because
it takes its joy from that which must survive all these changes. Suppose
any thing could for the present give a fulness of joy, and absolute
content to the heart, yet, if we imagine that that thing may be separated
and disjoined from the heart, and cease to be, certainly the very
expectation of such an eternal separation would almost extinguish all the
joy, and make it dry up of the fulness, for, may a soul think, what shall
I do for ever when this well dries? Whence shall I draw water of joy? Out
of what well? But now, that fear is removed, and the soul needs not lose
its sweetness of the present enjoyment of God through anxious foresight of
the future, because he may know that the perfect fulness that shall never
ebb is but coming, and the sun is but ascending yet towards the meridian,
from whence he shall never go down, but stand fixed, to be the eternal
wonder and delight of angels and men.
Now, though it be true that Christians here have neither that plenty nor
that perpetuity of this joy that the object of it gives ground for, though
their hearts be often filled with griefs and sorrows—partly from outward,
partly from inward evils and afflictions,—yet, certainly, this ariseth but
from the dark apprehension, dim belief, and slight consideration of those
things that Christ spoke, and his apostles wrote unto us. We might, no
question, keep our hearts in more peace and tranquillity, in all the
commotions of the times or alterations in ourselves, if we did more
steadfastly believe the gospel and keep more constant fellowship with God.
But, however it be, there is radically a fulness of joy in every
believer’s heart. That seed is sown that shall one day be ripe of fulness
of joy, it is always lying at the root, and reserved for them. O let us
lay these things to heart, which, being laid to heart, and laid up in the
heart, will fill it with this sweet fragrant perfume of peace and joy.
They are written for this end, let us hear them for this end too, that our
joy may be full. It is true, indeed, that this fulness of joy suits only
the life to come, when the vessel is both enlarged and strengthened to
contain it. Things that have strong spirits in them must have strong new
bottles such as our crazy mortal bodies are not, therefore the Lord hath
reserved the just fulness, the overflowings of this joy, for the time that
the soul shall be purified from all sin, and the body delivered from all
corruption. Because that sin lurks in many corners of the heart now,
therefore this joy cannot fill up the heart and all the vacuities of it,
for it is of so pure and heavenly a nature that it will not compound and
intermingle with sin or sinful lusts. But when nothing of that remains in
the heart then it flows in apace, and leaves no corner of the heart
unsatisfied and unsupplied. I would have you, who get some tastes of this
joy and peace by the way, not disquieted and troubled, because it abides
not to be ordinary food. If you be set down again to your ordinary spare
diet of manna in the wilderness and have not these first fruits and grapes
of Canaan sent to you, think it not strange, for the fulness which you
seek you are not capable of here, but you shall be capable of it
hereafter. You ought, with patience, to wait for that day when your joy
shall be full. As Christ is full, full measure heaped up and running
over, will he mete out unto you then, and this shall be without the fear
of any ebb or diminution of it for all eternity. Neither shall this
fulness, and constant fulness, cloy the soul, or breed any satiety in it.
There is fulness of joy without surfeit, without satiety, that which they
have they shall always desire, and that which they desire they shall
always have, everlasting desire and everlasting delight being married
together in their fulness. But yet so much is attainable here as may
truly be called fulness in regard of the world. The fulness of joy that
all the pleasures of this earth can afford is but scarcity and want to the
inward fulness of joy and contentation the poorest believers may have in
God, reconciled in Christ. That which the wise man gives as the character
of all earthly joy suits well, “I said of laughter, It is mad, and of
mirth, what doeth it?” Eccl. ii. 2. Truly it cannot be supposed to be
more real than that which is the ground and spring of it. It must be a
perfunctorious,(237) superficial, and empty joy that is derived and
distilled from such vanities. Nay, there is a madness in it besides, for
men’s apprehensions to swell so excessively towards poor, narrow, and
limited things. It is a monster in reason to put such a value upon
nothing, and make ourselves glad upon our own dreams and fancies. There
is such a manifest abuse and violation of reason in it, that it can be
supposed to proceed from nothing but a distemper in men’s hearts. But,
besides this, there are two other characters of it given (Prov. xiv. 13.),
“Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is
heaviness.” There is no pure earthly joy, for it hath always a mixture of
grief and sadness in the inward retired closet of the heart. It is of
such deadness and inefficacy that it drives not out of the heart all
discontentments and anxieties, but if the most jovial man, that seems to
be transported with his delights would but retire within and examine his
own conscience, he would find those delights have but little power to
affect his heart. He would find terrible and dreadful representations
there, that his joys may well for a time darken them, but cannot drive
them away. And then it is the very natural law and fatal necessity that
grief follows those joys at the heels, yea, is perpetually attending
them, to come in their place. God hath so conjoined them together, and so
disposed them, that men’s joy shall be mingled with grief, but their grief
is pure and unmixed, and that he who draws up joy to him from the
creatures, must draw grief and vexation in that same chain, inseparably
annexed to it by the wise ordination of God.
But there are joys of the Holy Ghost arising from the intimation and
apprehension of the gospel, from the consideration of the grace and
goodness of God manifested in it and the experience of that in the soul,
which are of another stamp and nature. These, indeed, affect the heart,
and give the answer of a good conscience, in the blood of Christ, which is
a continual feast. These drive out the bitter and dreadful apprehensions
of sin and wrath. These sweeten and refresh the soul in all worldly
afflictions and griefs. The heart of man knoweth his own bitterness, and
a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy, Prov. xiv. 10. Indeed, the
torments and perplexities of a troubled soul are better felt by itself
than known by others, and so are the joys of that heart that apprehends
Jesus Christ and peace purchased in him. They are such as no man that is
a stranger to such things in his experience can apprehend. It is a joy
unspeakable. O what unspeakable content gives it to the heart! And truly
if you did not interpose the clouds of unbelief and sin between you and
his shining countenance, there needed not be so often an eclipse in the
joys of believers. Yet the day is coming that ye shall see him fully as
he is, and nothing be interposed between you and him, and then your joy
shall be full &c.
Sermon IX.
1 John i. 5.—“This then is the message which we have heard of him,
and declare unto you, that God is light,” &c.
The great design of the gospel is to make up the breach of man’s joy, and
open up the way to the fulness of it, and therefore it is the good news
and glad tidings of great joy, the only best message that ever came to the
world. Now it shows unto us the channel that this river of gladness and
joy runs into, it discovers what is the way of the conveyance of it to the
soul, and what are the banks it runs between, and that is fellowship with
the Father and with the Son. In this channel that river of delight
runs,—between the banks of the love of God to us, and our love to him.
Herein a soul is happy, and accounts itself happy, and truly, in so much
do we profit by the word, and answer the design of the gospel, by how much
we estimate our happiness from this alone from the communication of God to
us. Whensoever the gospel takes hold of your hearts, it will undoubtedly
frame them to this,—to a measuring of all blessedness from God alone. And
this will carry the heart to an undervaluing of all other things, as being
too low and unworthy for this end, and so to a forsaking of every thing
for the closer enjoyment of God. I fear many believers are little
acquainted with this joy, because they draw not their joy singly out of
the pure fountain of delight, but turn aside to other external comforts,
and drown their souls in them. Now, indeed, these two cannot well consist
together. If we take in any thing else to make up our happiness and
comfort, so much we lose of God, and that which is truly spiritual, and
therefore our hearts would be more purified from carnal delights, if we
would have experience of this joy, we must hang only upon his countenance
and company, else we lose the sweetness of it.
Now the apostle prosecutes this further, to discover what conformity must
be between them that should keep this fellowship, and what likeness of
nature and qualities is necessary for them who would be happy in God’s
society. “This is the message we have heard,” saith he, “and which we
declare unto you, that God is light,” &c. Take this jointly with that
which went before, “this we declare, that ye may have fellowship with the
Father and the Son.” And to the end this fellowship may hold and yield
you fulness of joy, it is necessary that the nature of God be laid down as
the pattern to which ye must be conformed,—“God is light,” and therefore
you must be light too, if ye would have fellowship with that pure light.
Now this, I say, is the full message of the gospel, that which was sent
down from heaven with the Son of God, the messenger of the covenant, and
which the apostles heard from him. Indeed the very manner of the proposal
of these things stirs up our hearts to attention, and makes us more
serious than commonly we are. That there is one, and such an one sent
from heaven, with such an embassage as this is, to invite us to society
with God again, one whose interest lies in this, to make us happy, and
this he declares unto us, that he hath no other design but to fulfil our
joy. O how powerful might this be on our hearts to conquer them, to make
them willingly hearken to him! Any message that comes from heaven should
be received with great reverence and respect of mortal men, because it
comes from the court and palace of the great King. But when this is the
substance of it, to make us happy in himself, to advance us to this
incomparable dignity of society with himself, in which society there is a
fulness of joy,—then how should we receive it with open hearts, and
entertain it gladly! If we could take it always thus as a message from
heaven, and look upon it and hear it in that notion, I think the fruit
would be incomparably greater, for what is it that makes it dead and
ineffectual in men’s hearts, but that the apprehension of it degenerates
and falls down from God to creatures, because it is not taken so as his
word, carrying the stamp of his divine authority? We bring it forth, not
as a message from him, but as from ourselves, and you receive it, not as
from him, but from us, and thus it is adulterated and corrupted on both
hands. My beloved, let us jointly mind this, that whatsoever we have to
declare is a message from God to mortal men; and, therefore, let us so
compose ourselves in his sight as if he were speaking to us. The
conscience of a very heathen was awaked when Ehud told him he had a
message from God to him. Eglon arose out of his seat, that he might hear
it reverently, (Judg. iii. 20.) though it was a bloody message, as it
proved in the event. Yet so much the common dictates of reason might teach
you, that ye should arise and compose yourselves to reverend and awful
attention to what the Lord God will speak. But when, moreover, we know
that the sum of the message is to make us blessed, and raise us up to
communion with him in his joy and happiness we are not only called to
reverence, as to God, but to ardent affection and desire, as to him who by
all means seeks our happiness. O how happy were he that could first hear
and receive this message from him, and then declare it to others! But,
however, though we should fail in that, this doth not change either the
authority or nature of the message itself; and therefore, if men should be
so far destitute of God as not to bring it from him immediately, yet do
not you forsake your own mercy too, but receive it as that which is come
forth from God, receive it for itself, as carrying in its bosom a fulness
of joy to you, and receive it for his sake who moved this embassage first
after sinners, and his sake who carried it to sinners, that is, for the
Father and the Son, to whose fellowship you are here invited. Let us then
hear the message.
“This then is the message, that God is light,” &c. The ground of communion
of persons is their union in nature, or likeness one to another. There is
some general society between all mankind, as being conjoined in one common
nature; but the contracting of that in narrower bounds of affinity and
consanguinity doth enlarge the affection the more. You see it is natural
for those who are joined by such relations of blood one to another, to
love one another more than others out of these bonds. But true friendship
draws the circle yet narrower, and contracts the love that is scattered
abroad to mankind in a strange channel, to run towards one, or a few, and
the foundation of this is some peculiar and particular similitude and
likeness in manners and sympathy of disposition, which makes the souls of
men to melt one into another, after some converse and acquaintance
together. This is the bond that knits this near society, some conformity
necessarily presupposed to communion and fellowship. Now, that which holds
so in the communion of man with man, must be much more needful in man’s
communion with God, for all the societies, combinations, and conjunctions
of the creatures, are but shadows of this higher communication of the
spirit of man with God the Father of spirits. And, indeed, we may find
some rude draughts and resemblances of this divine society, and of the
rule according to which it must he modelled, in all the friendly or near
conjunctions of creatures; for every thing is best preserved and agreeth
best with things of its own nature. See the disposition of the parts of
the world. Things contiguous and nearest other are also likest in nature
one to another. So it is among men. The several agreements and
symbolizings of men’s spirits in different qualities and tempers, make
several sorts of men, and part them into so many companies: _Pares paribus
congregantur. Simile simili gaudet_.(238)
Now, my beloved, this same supernatural and divine society that we speak
of must be constituted according to this fundamental rule, that is, it is
necessary, to the end that God and man may have fellowship together, that
they come nearer in likeness one to another. Now for God, you know he
cannot be liker us, for he is unchangeably holy and good. That were most
absurd to bring down his Majesty to partake of our wretched infirmities of
sin and darkness. Indeed in this he hath come as far as his own nature and
our good would permit, to communicate in our nature, and all the sinless
infirmities of it. It is impossible, then, that he should make up the
distance by any change of himself, but we must be changed, and some way
raised up to partake of the purity of his nature, and be transformed into
some likeness to him, and then is the foundation of society and
fellowship laid down. This is the apostle’s meaning, in declaring to us
what God is that according to that pattern, and in that glass we may see
what to conform ourselves to, and may have a particular determination of
the great qualification of those who pretend to fellowship with God. “God
is light and in him is no darkness.” Now, take the just opposition—man is
darkness and in him is no light. Now, what communion then can light have
with darkness? Either the light must become darkness, or the darkness
become light. Either the light must leave its glorious purity and forsake
its nature—which cannot be admitted—or else the darkness of men’s souls
must be wiped off, and abolished by the brightness of God’s light. And
then there may be a communion between the primitive light and the
derivative light, between the original light and that which flows out from
the original. But take darkness remaining darkness, and light remaining
light, and they cannot compone(239) together, for the first great
separation that was made in the world was between light and darkness. “And
God saw the light that it was good, and God divided the light from the
darkness,” Gen. i. 4. And so it is impossible for men that live in the
darkness of their minds, in ignorance, and in the darkness of sinful
lusts, that they can have any fellowship with God, who is a fountain of
pure light and undefiled sanctity. “What hast thou to do to take my
covenant in thy mouth,” &c, and this God saith to the wicked. It is an
incongruous and unsuitable thing, for man to pretend nearness and interest
in this God and yet be buried in darkness and hatred of the light of
personal reformation as a gold ring in a swine’s nose, that rather deforms
the jewel than beautifies the beast, so are the pretensions of ignorant
and wicked men, to this divine society, &c.
Sermon X.
1 John i. 5.—“This then is the message which we have heard of him,
and declare unto you, that God is light,” &c.
Who is a fit messenger to declare this message? Can darkness comprehend
the light, or apprehend it? Or can those that are blind form any lively
notion of light, to the instruction and persuasion of others? Truly, no
more can we conceive or speak of God, who is that pure light, than a blind
man can discourse on colours, or a deaf man on sounds. “Who is blind as
the Lord’s servant?” And therefore who are more unmeet to declare this
message of light? What reverence and godly fear ought this to be declared
withal, when mortal man speaks of the eternal God unto mortal men? What
composure of spirit should be in us? What trembling and adoration? For, at
our best, we can but declare our own ignorance, and the furthest
attainment in this knowledge is but a further discovery of man’s darkness.
We have three ways of creeping towards that glorious light of God. First,
his own works are like some visible appearances of that invisible and
incomprehensible God, and in these we know him, but not what he is in
himself. Consider how dark and dull we are in piercing into the hidden
natures of things, even below us, as beasts and plants. We behold some
effects flow from them, but from what principle these do flow, that we
know not. How much less can we apprehend any thing suitable of the divine
Majesty, that is infinitely above us, from these wonderful and glorious
works of his power and wisdom! Man is endowed with wisdom to do some
excellent works of art, as planting, grafting, building, painting,
weaving, and such like. But the beasts that are below us cannot apprehend
from these works what the nature of man is. Now is there not a more
infinite distance, a greater disproportion between us and the divine
nature, so that we cannot rise up to an understanding notion of it, in
itself? Nay, besides, one man will do many things which another cannot
understand—he beholds the art of it, he sees the matter, but yet he cannot
pierce into the mind of the workman, and look upon that wisdom and idea of
his mind. Therefore all that we can conclude from these wonderful works of
God, is some silent admiration of him. If these be such, then what must he
be? How infinitely distant from them, and transcendent over them? But what
he is, these cannot declare, and we cannot apprehend. Then we use to climb
up to the knowledge of God, by attributing to him all the perfections,
excellencies, and eminences of the creatures. Whatsoever commends them we
apprehend that originally and infinitely in him, and thus we spell out
that name that is most simply one, in many letters and characters,
according to our mean capacity, as children when they begin to learn. So
we ascribe to him wisdom, goodness, power, justice, holiness, mercy,
truth, &c. All which names being taken from the creatures, and so having
significations suited to our imperfections, they must needs come
infinitely short of him, and so our apprehensions of them. These are
scattered among the creatures, therefore they cause divers conceptions in
us, but all these are united in him. He is a most simple, pure being, that
eminently and virtually is all things, and properly is none of all.
Another way we have of apprehending him, by way of negation, denying all
the imperfections of the creatures, and removing them at an infinite
distance from him. And truly, though this be an imperfection in knowledge,
yet it is the greatest knowledge we can attain to, to know rather what he
is not, than what he is. He is not limited to any place, nor bounded with
any measures and degrees of perfection, as creatures are, therefore we
call him infinite. He is not comprehended within the limits of time, but
comprehends all within himself, therefore he is eternal. He is not subject
to changes and alterations, therefore called immutable. He is not
compounded, as a result of divers parts, therefore he is most purely
simple, and one. He is not like those things we see and hear, that fall
under our senses, therefore we call him a Spirit, or a spiritual Being.
Now, in all these weak endeavours of man, to detain and fix his own spirit
in the contemplation of God, if he cannot reach the understanding of what
God is, yet certainly he will attain this great point of wisdom,—not to be
ignorant of his own ignorance. And truly, my beloved, this is the thing I
would have us to learn to know, that the admiration of God in silence is
the best expression of him. We would not search into these mysteries, to
satisfy our curiosity, but rather compose our hearts to a continual silent
wondering before him for where our understandings are confounded, and our
minds overwhelmed with the infiniteness of that glory, so that we can see
nothing but our ignorance of all this should certainly compose all to
quiet admiration, for silence and wonder is the proper and natural posture
of a soul that is at a stand, and can neither get forward for inaccessible
light, nor will retire backward, for that it apprehends already.
“This then is the message, that God is light.” Because we cannot conceive
in our poor narrow minds what God is in himself, therefore he expresseth
to us often in similitudes to the creatures, and condescends to our
capacity. As he stands in manifold relations to us, so he takes the most
familiar names, that may hold out to our dull senses what we may expect of
him. Therefore he calls himself a Father, a King, a Husband, a Rock, a
Buckler, and Strong Tower, a Mountain, and whatsoever else they may
represent to our hearts, that which may strengthen them in believing. But
there is no creature so directly attributed to God, as light, none used to
express his very nature and being, as abstracted from these relations, but
this,—“God is light,” and Christ takes it to himself—“the light of the
world, and the life of men.” The truth is, it hath some excellency in it
above all other visible creatures, that it may fitly carry some
resemblance to him. The scripture calls light his garment, Psal. civ. 2.
And truly it is a more glorious robe of Majesty than all the royal and
imperial robes and garments of state that either angels or men could
contrive. The light is, as it were, a visible appearance of the invisible
God. He hath covered his invisible nature with this glorious garment to
make himself in a manner visible to man. It is true, that light is but, as
it were, a shadow of that inaccessible light, umbra Dei. It is the dark
shadow of God, who is himself infinitely more beautiful and glorious. But
yet, as to us, it hath greater glory and majesty in it than any creature
besides. It is the chief of the works of God, without which the world
would be without form, and void. It is the very beauty of the creation,
that which gives lustre and amiableness to all that is in it, without
which the pleasantest paradise would become a wilderness, and this
beautiful structure, and adorned palace of the world, a loathsome dungeon.
Besides the admirable beauty of it, it hath a wonderful swift conveyance,
throughout the whole world, the upper and lower, in a moment, in the
twinkling of an eye. It is carried from the one end of heaven to the other
in a moment, and who can say by what way the light is parted? Job xxxviii.
24. Moreover it carries alongst with it a beautiful influence, and a
refreshing heat and warmness, which is the very life and subsistence of
all the creatures below. And so, as there is nothing so beautiful, so,
nothing so universally and highly profitable. And to all this, add that
singular property of it, that it is not capable of infection, it is of
such absolute purity, that it can communicate itself to the dunghill, as
well as to the garden, without receiving any mixture from it. In all the
impurities it meets withal, it remains unmixed and untainted, and
preserves its own nature entire. Now you may perceive, that there is
nothing visible that is fitter to resemble the invisible God, than this
glorious, beautiful, pure, and universally communicable creature, light.
Hereby you may have shadowed out unto you the nature of God, that he is an
all knowing, intelligent Being. As light is the first and principal
visible thing yea, that which gives visibility to all things, and so is in
its own nature a manifestation of all things material and bodily, so God
is the first object of the understanding—_primum intelligibile, et primum
intelligens_. Nothing so fit an emblem of knowledge as light, and truly
in that respect God is the original light, a pure intellectual light that
hath in himself the perfect idea and comprehension of all things. He hath
anticipated in himself the knowledge of all, because all things were
formed in his infinite understanding, and lay, as it were, first hid in
the bowels of his infinite power. Therefore he is a globe or mass of light
and knowledge, like the sun, from whom nothing is hid. Hell and
destruction are not covered to him. There is no opacity, no darkness or
thickness in the creation, that can terminate or bound this light, or
hinder his understanding to pierce into it. Now as all things, by the
irradiation of the light, become visible so the participation of this
glorious Sun of righteousness, and the shining of his beams into the souls
of men, makes them to partake of that heavenly intellectual nature, and
reflects a wonderful beauty upon them, which is not in the rest of the
world.
Besides, here is represented to us the absolute purity and perfection of
God’s nature,—“God is light, and in him is no darkness.” Besides the
purity of the light of knowledge, there is a purity of the beauty of
holiness. The glorious light of God’s virtue, and power, and wisdom, is
communicated to all the creatures. There is an universal extent of his
influence towards the good and bad, as the sun shines on both and yet
there is no spot nor stain upon his holiness or righteousness, from all
his intermingling with the creatures, the worst and basest creatures. All
his works are holy and righteous, even his works in unholy and unrighteous
men. He draws no defilement from the basest of the creatures, nor yet
from the sinfulness of it. He can be intimately present and conjoined in
working, in virtue and power, in care and providence with the dirt and
mire of the streets, with the beasts of the field, and yet that is no
stain upon his honour or credit, as men would suppose it to be, no more
than it is a dishonour to the sun to shine on the dunghill. In a word,
there is no mixture of ignorance, darkness, impunity, or iniquity in him
not the least shadow of change or turning not the least seed of
imperfection. In regard of him, the moon is not clean, and the sun is
spotted. In respect of his holiness, angels may be charged with folly.
Then add unto this to make up the resemblance fuller, the bounty and
benignity of his influence upon the world, the flowings forth of his
infinite goodness, that enrich the whole earth. Look as the sun is the
greatest and most universal benefactor—his influence and heat is the very
renovation of the world of the world. It makes all new, and green and
flourishing, it puts a youth upon the world, and so is the very spring and
fountain of life to all sublunary things. How much is that true of the
true light, of the substantial, of whom this sun is but a shadow? He is
the life of the world, and the light of men. Every good gift, and every
perfect donation descends from him, James i. 17. His influence is more
universal to the being, to the moving, to the living of all things. And
then Jesus Christ, the Sun of righteousness, is carried about in the orb
of the gospel, and in his beams there is a healing virtue. These are the
refreshments of poor wearied souls, that are scorched with the anger of
God. There is an admirable heat and warmness of love and affection that
this glorious light carries embosomed in it, and that is it that pierces
into souls, and warms hearts, and quickens dead spirits, and puts a new
face upon all again. This is the spring of all the life that is truly
spiritual, and it hath as sweet and comfortable effects upon the souls of
men who receive the truth in love, the light in love, that is, the light
with heat, as ever the sun approaching near the earth hath had upon plants
and living creatures.
And to complete the resemblance more, there may be something of the
infallibility and incomprehensibility of the divine Majesty here
represented. For though nothing be clearer than the light yet there is
nothing in its own nature darker than light that which is so manifest to
the eyes, how obscure is it to the understanding! Many debates and
inquiries have been about it, but yet it is not known what that is, by
which we know all things. Certainly such is the divine light. It is
inconceivable and inexpressible, therefore is he said to dwell in light
inaccessible and full of glory, 1 Tim. vi. 16. There is a twofold darkness
that hinders us to see God, a darkness of ignorance in us, and a darkness
of inaccessible light in him. The one is a vail upon our hearts, which
blinds and darkens the souls of men, that they do not see that which is
manifest of God, even in his works. O that cloud of unbelief that is
spread over our souls, which hinders the glorious rays of that divine
light to shine into them! This darkness Satan contributes much to, who is
the prince of darkness, 2 Cor. iv. 4. This makes the most part of souls
like dungeons within, when the glorious light of the gospel surrounds them
without. This earthliness and carnality of our hearts makes them like the
earth, receive only the light in the upper and outward superfice, and not
suffer it to be transmitted into our hearts to change them. But when it
pleaseth him, who at the first, by a word of power, “commanded light to
shine out of darkness,” he can scatter that cloud of ignorance, and draw
away the vail of unbelief, and can by his power and art, so transform the
soul, as to remove its earthly quality, and make it transparent and pure,
and then the light will shine into the heart, and get free access into the
soul. But though this darkness were wholly removed, there is another
darkness, that ariseth not from the want of light, but from the excessive
superabundance of light—_caligo lucis nimiæ_,(240) that is, a divine
darkness, a darkness of glory, such an infinite excess and superplus of
light and glory, above all created capacities, that it dazzles and
confounds all mortal or created understandings. We see some shadows of
this, if we look up to the clear sun. We are able to see nothing for too
much light. There is such an infinite disproportion here between the eye
of our mind, and this divine light of glory, that if we curiously pry into
it, it is rather confounding and astonishing, and therefore it fills the
souls of saints with continual silent admiration and adoration.
Sermon XI.
1 John i. 5.—“This then is the message which we have heard of him,
and declare unto you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness
at all.”
True religion consists not only in the knowledge of God, but especially in
conformity to him, and communion with him. Communion and fellowship with
God is the great end and design of the gospel, and it is the great result
of all a Christian’s pains and progress. It is not only the greatest part
of religion, but the very reward of religion too, for piety hath its
reward of happiness in the bosom of it, without borrowing from external
things. Now, that which this sweet and fragrant fruit, which perfumes all
the soul with delight, and fills it with joy, springs out of, is
conformity to God. Assimilation of nature and disposition, some likeness
to God imprinted on the soul again in holy affections and dispositions, a
coincidency of our will with the will of God, drowning of it in the sea of
his good pleasure, his law in the inward parts. Now what is the root of
this conformity, but the knowledge of God? This is that which hath a
virtue to transform the soul into his similitude. You see then where true
religion begins lowest, and by what means it grows up to the sweet fruit
of that eternal joy that shall be pressed out of the grapes of fellowship
with God. So then, whatsoever is declared of God unto us in his word,
whatsoever is holden forth of him, is not only set forth to be the subject
of our knowledge, but especially to be a pattern for imitation, and to be
an inflaming motive to our affection. This is the very substance of the
verse.
“This then is the message” I declare, “that God is light,” and this I
heard not from Christ only, for the satisfaction of my curiosity, nor do I
declare it to you only, that you may know it, as if you had no more to do
with it, but especially that ye may know what ye ought to be in conformity
to that light. The end of your knowing God, is to become liker God, if so
be ye would have communion with him.
Let us take this rule, then, to measure all our searchings after God, and
inquirings into him. Certainly there ought to be more meditation and
inquiry of heart upon this subject, because it is the spring of all life
to the soul. It is that which enricheth it most, and fills it with peace,
joy, and delight, and brings in a treasure into a man’s heart, such as
Christ speaks of—“A good man out of the good treasure of his heart,” &c.
Meditation, much meditation on God, a stayedness and fixedness of spirit
upon him, lays up a treasure in the heart. This is it that makes such a
difference between the heart and mouth of a righteous man, and a wicked
man. The heart of the wicked is little worth, for the total want of this,
and therefore, their lips and tongues are void of edification, full of
corruption. But where this spring floweth within, it maketh the mouth of a
man like a well of life, it maketh his lips like choice silver. O the
scantiness and neglect of this amongst Christians makes all to wither and
decay! There is little searching after the Almighty, little employing and
entertaining our spirits about him, how slender and single thoughts and
apprehensions of him, which cannot but cause a _deliqium_(241) and decay
in all the parts of Christianity, when the very sun is eclipsed from us by
our ignorance and inconsideration of him and that so long it must have
dreadful effects upon us. Therefore, let us be exhorted to this study to
give our spirits to this employment—to think more on God. But, as I was
saying, there is need of a rule to measure us in it, and of some caution
about it, that is that we have our end rightly established, what we aim at
in inquiring after, or meditating upon God. If it be only to give
entertainment to the curiosity of our minds, as in the contemplation of
natural things, if it be only to pry into secrets and mysteries, and to
labour to comprehend that which is incomprehensible, then we lose our
labour, and we are in danger to meet with a consuming fire, instead of
instructing and refreshing light. I would therefore have this guarded
against,—the insatiable desire and greediness of our minds after the
knowledge of secret mysteries. We may set bounds here, and not overstretch
or strain our understandings, to compass his infinite Being, as it is in
itself. Let us rather take him up as he is revealed in the scriptures, and
so meditate on him as manifested in his word and works, his grace, mercy,
power, wisdom, &c. and read his name with delight in those large volumes
spread before our eyes, &c.
Now the just measuring and regulating of all knowledge of God is to direct
it to a further end to have nothing before us but this, that we may
reverence, adore, fear, and love him so much the more. And this is the
thing that maketh access to him most easy and sweet when the design a soul
hath, in all its searchings about him, is for this purpose, to the end it
may love him and worship him more suitably, and be more conformed to him,
when he is looked upon as a pattern of our conformity, that is, the right
apprehension and up taking of him to know that God is light, and so to
know it, as in it to behold the necessity of what qualification should be
in us, that is indeed to know God. My beloved, let us consider that so
much we know of God, as we love him and fear him, and are conformed unto
him, for that knowledge, which is not about this work and design, is for
no other purpose but to be a witness against a man, and the most heinous
aggravation of his sins.
To come then to the particular in hand, “God is light,” and that is holden
out and declared for this end, that there may be a pattern of the
qualification of all that intend to enter into that society, if ye would
have fellowship with God, then consider what you engage into, what manner
of person he is, for the intimate knowledge of one another is presupposed
to all constant friendship. You must know then what God is if you would
have communion with him, because there is no communion without some
conformity, and no conformity without knowledge of him. Therefore, as he
is light, so the soul must be made light in him, and enlightened by him,
that would have his society. We must be transformed into that nature, and
made children of light, who were children of darkness. Now, as there is a
light of understanding and wisdom in God, and a light of holiness and
purity, so there is in our souls, opposite to these, a darkness of
ignorance and unbelief, and a darkness of sin, and impurity of affections.
Now, “what communion can light have with darkness?” Let every man ask this
at his own heart, if there be no happiness without this society, and no
possibility of this society, while I remain in darkness, then is it not
high time to come to the light? This then is the first change that is made
in a soul, the darkness of ignorance and unbelief is driven out, by the
approach of that glorious light of the gospel into the heart, then is
discovered unto the soul that deformity of sin, that loathsomeness in
itself that it never apprehended. Then there is a manifestation of the
hidden works of darkness, of the desperate wickedness of the heart, which
lay unobserved and unsuspected all the while. And now a man cannot in that
view but abhor himself, for that which none else can see in him. And there
is withal manifested that glorious holiness and purity in God, that
inviolable righteousness, that omnipotent power, which formerly were never
seriously thought upon, now these are represented to the life before a
sinner. And to close up all, there is a manifestation of the grace and
goodness of God in Christ, which discovers a way of salvation, and
delivery from sin and wrath, and this perfumeth and refresheth all the
faculties of the soul. Thus the soul is in a part conformed to that
original light, when a beam is sent from it, and hath pierced into the
heart, and scattered the darkness that did alienate the minds of men from
God. But it is not only an illumination of the foreface, and outer side of
the soul, not only a conviction of the judgment in these things, but by
virtue of that divine heat that is transmitted with the light of the
gospel, the soul is purified and cleansed from its grosser nature, and so
is made transparent, that the light may shine into the very inwards of the
heart. And this is the special point of conformity to God,—to have our
souls purged from the darkness of sinful, earthly, and muddy
affections,—to have them purified by the light of God, from all the works
and lusts of darkness, and the shining beauty of holy affections and
inclinations, to succeed and fill up the vacant room. If knowledge only
reside in our brains, and send not down warm beams to quicken and inflame
the heart, then it is barren and unfruitful, it is cold and unprofitable.
If it hover only alone in our heads, and keep a motion there, but send
down no refreshing showers to the affections, which may make us abound in
good fruits, then it is like the windy clouds, clouds without rain, that
pass away without any benefit to the thirsty ground. Let us then take this
along with us, let the impression of this description of the divine
Majesty abide in our hearts. “God is light,” and if we often ruminate and
ponder upon this, I think it will make us often to reflect upon ourselves,
how we are darkness, and this will breed some carefulness and desire in
the soul, how to have this darkness removed, that there may be a soul
capable of divine illustration. This is it that advanceth the soul to the
nearest conformity with God, the looking often upon God, till our souls be
enlightened and our hearts purified, and this again puts the soul in the
nearest capacity for that blessed communion with God. “Blessed are the
pure in heart, for they shall see God,” Matt. v. 8. Truly it is not
profoundness of ingine,(242) it is not acuteness and sharpness of wit, it
is not pregnancy in understanding, or eminency in parts, that will dispose
the soul to this blessed vision of God, and frame it to a capacity of
fellowship with him. No, there needs no extraordinary parts for this,
nothing but that the heart be purified from corruptions, those inward
earthly qualities, that are like so many vicious and gross humours,
filling the organ of the sight, these, pride, conceit, self love, passion,
anger, malice, envy, strife, covetousness, love of pleasures, ambition,
these, I say, that possess the hearts of the most excellent natural
spirits, cast a mist upon their eyes, and hinder them to see God, or enjoy
that delight in him, that some poor, weak, and ignorant creatures, whose
hearts the Lord had purged from sin, do find in God. Therefore if any of
you have an aim at this, to have fellowship with God, know both for your
direction and your encouragement, that “God is light.” For your direction,
because that must be your pattern, and if you have no study that way to be
like him in holiness, you shall not see him. But take it likewise for an
encouragement, for that style carries not only the necessity of what he
must be, but it holds out likewise the fountain and storehouse of all our
qualifications, for “God is light.” The original, primitive light,—all
must borrow of him, and that light is freely and impartially communicable
to poor sinners “with thee is the fountain of light, and in thy light
shall we see light.” Let a soul that apprehends its own darkness and
distance from him thus encourage itself. My light is but a beam derived
from his light, and there is no want in him. He is a sun of righteousness.
If I shut not up my heart through unwillingness and unbelief, if I desire
not to keep my sins, but would be purged from them, then that glorious
light may shine without stop and impediment into my heart. He is not only
light in his own nature, but he is a light to us, and if he please to
remove that which is interposed between him and us, it shall be day light
in our hearts again. Thus a soul may strengthen itself to wait on him, and
by looking thus up to him, and fixing on him, we shall be enlightened, and
our faces not be ashamed.
Sermon XII.
1 John i. 6.—“If we say that we have fellowship with him, and walk
in darkness, we lie,” &c.
There is nothing in which men suffer themselves to be so easily deceived
as in this highest concernment of religion, in which the eternal interest
of their souls lies. There is no delusion either so gross or so universal
in any other thing, as in this thing, in regard of which all other things
are nothing. This hath overspread the world, (to speak only of that part
which pretends to Christianity,) a strong, pertinacious, and blind fancy
of being in Jesus Christ and having interest in salvation. I call it a
blind and ignorant fancy, for truly ignorance and darkness is the
strongest foundation of such conceits. Papists call it the mother of
devotion. It is true, in this sense it is the mother of a man’s groundless
devotion towards himself, that is, of delusion. This, together with
self-love, which always hoodwinks the mind, and will not suffer a serious
impartial examination of a man’s self, these, I say, are the bottom of
this vain persuasion, that possesseth the generality of men. Now, what it
wants of knowledge, it hath of wilfulness. It is a conceit altogether void
of reason, but it is so wilful and pertinacious, that it is almost utterly
inconvincible, and so it puts souls in the most desperate forlorn estate
that can be imagined. It makes them, as the apostle speaks, (Eph. v. 6)
υιοις της απαθειας _children of impersuasion_,—it is rendered commonly,
“children of disobedience.” And, indeed, they are joined together. They
are children of disobedience, carrying the manifest characters of wrath
upon them, yet they are withal children of impersuasion, incapable of any
persuasion contrary to these deluding insinuations of their own minds.
Though they be manifest to all men to be sons of disobedience, living in
rebellion against God, yet it is not possible to persuade them of it. They
are as far from conviction of what they are, as reformation to what they
should be. Notwithstanding, if men would but give an impartial and
attentive ear to what the apostle says here, I suppose the very frame of
his argument is so convincing, that he could not but leave some
impression. If any thing will convince a child of impersuasion, the terms
here propounded are finest, “God is light, and in him is no darkness.”
Hence it follows, by unavoidable consequence, as clear as the light, that
no man can have fellowship with God that walks in darkness.
Those that delude themselves in this matter are of two kinds. They
generally pretend to Christianity in general, and to an interest in
salvation, but if we descend into the chief parts and members of
Christianity, as holiness, fellowship with God, walking after the Spirit,
and such like, these they do not so much as pretend to. And withal, they
think they have a dispensation from such strictness, and make it a
sufficient plea that they are not such, because they never professed to be
such. Others again, though fewer, can pretend even to these higher points
of Christianity, as communion with God, walking after the Spirit, and
indeed in this they are more consonant to their profession of
Christianity. But, as the apostle saith, there may be a practical lie in
it too, if we consider and compare their practice with their profession.
I would speak a word, by way of preparation, to you who are of the first
sort, that is, the very multitude of professing Christians, because you do
not profess so much as others, and do not give out yourselves for the
students of holiness, you think yourselves exempted from the stroke of all
this soul piercing doctrine. You think readily it is not pertinent to
apply this to you of walking contrary to your profession, and so
committing this gross lie in not doing the truth. “If any man say I have
fellowship with God,” &c. And who will say that, say ye? Who will speak
such a high word of himself as this? Therefore, since you do not presume
so high, you think you have escaped the censure that follows.
But, I beseech you, consider what your professions import, and what you
engage yourselves to even by the general profession of Christianity. I
know you will all say you are Christians, and hope to be saved. Now, do ye
understand what is included in that? If any man say that he is a
Christian, he really says that he hath fellowship with God, if any man say
he is a Christian, he says he hath fellowship with Christ, and is partaker
of his Spirit, for, as the apostle (Rom. viii. 9) declares unto you, “If
any have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his, that is, he is no
Christian. For what is it, I pray you, to be a Christian? Is it not to be
a new creature, formed again by the Spirit of Christ?” 2 Cor. v. 17.
Therefore, in as far as you pretend to be Christians, and yet are not
professors of holiness, and think you have a dispensation from such a
walking in God and after Christ, you fall under a twofold contradiction,
and commit a twofold lie: first, between your profession and practice,
then in your profession itself,—your practice is directly cross to the
very general profession of Christianity. But besides that, there is a
contradiction in the bosom of your profession. You affirm you are
Christians, and yet refuse the profession of holiness. You say ye hope for
heaven, and yet do not so much as pretend to godliness and walking
spiritually. Nay, these you disjoin in your profession, which are really
one, without which the name of Christianity is an empty, vain, and
ridiculous appellation. There must be then a great darkness of
misapprehension in your minds, that you take on the name of Christians,
and will not know what it imports, and therefore in the mean time, you
profess that which destroys and annuls your former profession. Now,
certainly, this is a grosser lie, a flatter contradiction, than needs much
inquiry into, to find it out. It is so palpable, that I wonder that these
very common and received principles of truth do not use up within to
testify against it, for if ye do not own the profession of holiness and
communion with God, what advantage have you then of Christianity? Tell me,
what will it serve you for? Can it save you? Can a bare, empty,
contradicted, and blasphemed title save you? And if it do not save you, it
will make your condemnation the greater. Let this then first be settled in
our hearts, and laid down as a principle,—that the most general profession
of Christianity lays an inviolable bond and obligation upon us, to all
that is imported in the particular expressions of a Christian’s nature,
walk, and society. Whether we take it so or not, thus it is: to be a
Christian infolds all that can be said, and if it do not import these, it
is not true to its own signification nor conformed to Christ’s meaning.
You may deprave the world as you please, and deform that holy calling so,
as it may suit to your carriage, but according to this word, in this
acceptation of it, you shall be judged, and if your Judge shall in that
great day lay all this great charge upon you, what will it avail you now
to absolve yourselves in your imaginations, even from the very obligation
itself?
Let us suppose, then, that you are convicted of this, that Christianity,
in the most general and common acceptation, is inclusive of fellowship and
communion with God, and that you profess and pretend to both, then let us
apply this just rule of the apostles, to examine the truth and reality of
such a profession. The rule is straight, and so may be a trial both of
that which is straight and crooked. _Rectum sui et obliqui index_: And
here the application being made, there is a discovery of the falsehood and
crookedness of most men’s hearts. This golden rule of examination is a
rule of proportion, so to speak, or it is founded upon the harmony that
should be between profession and practice, words and deeds, and upon that
conformity should intercede between those that have communion one with
another. Now apply these to the generality of Christians, and behold there
is no harmony and consent between their speaking and walking. Their
calling and profession, as Christians, imports communion with God, who is
the pure unmixed light, and yet they declare otherwise, that themselves
are in darkness of ignorance, and walk in the darkness of sin, and so that
communion must be pretended, where there is no conformity and likeness to
God intended. The result then of all is this, herein is the greatest lie,
and most dangerous withal, committed,—it is the greatest lie, because it
takes in all a man’s conversation, which all alone makes up one great
universal lie, a lie composed of infinite contrarieties, of innumerable
particular lies, for every step, every word, and action, is in its own
nature contrary to that holy profession, but all combined together, makes
up a black constellation of lies—one powerful lie against the truth. And,
besides, it is not against a particular truth, but against the whole
complex of Christianity. And error is a lie against such a particular
truth as it opposeth, but the tract and course of an ignorant ungodly
conversation is one continued lie against the whole bulk and body of
Christianity. It is a lie drawn the length of many weeks, months, and
years against the whole frame of Christian profession. For there is
nothing in the calling of a Christian, that is not retracted,
contradicted, and reproached by it. Oh! that ye could unbowel your own
ways, and see what a cluster of lies and incongruities is in them, what
reproaches and calumnies these practical lies cast upon the honour of your
Christian calling, how they tend of their own nature, to the disgracing of
the truth, and the blaspheming of God’s name! These things ye would find,
if ye would rip up your own hearts and ways, and if you found how great
that he is, you could not but fear the danger of it, for it being no less
than a denying of Jesus Christ, and a real renunciation of him, it puts
you without the refuge of sinners, and is most likely to keep you without
the blessed city, for “there shall in no wise enter therein anything that
defileth, or maketh a lie,” Rev. xxi. 27. What shall then become of them
whose life all along is but one continued lie?
Sermon XIII.
1 John i. 6.—“If we say that we have fellowship with him, and walk
in darkness, we lie,” &c.
That which is the sum of religion, sincerity, and a correspondency between
profession and practice, is confirmed by reason, and much strengthened by
nature itself, so that religion, reason, and nature, conspire in one, to
hold out the beauty and comeliness of sincerity, and to put a note and
character of infamy and deformity upon all hypocrisy and deceit,
especially in the matters of religion. There is nothing so contrary to
religion, as a false appearance, a show of that which is not for religion
is a most entire and equable thing, like itself, harmonious in all parts
of it, the same within and without, in expression and action, all
correspondent together. Now, to mar this harmony, and to make it up of
unequal, dissimilar parts, and to make one part give the lie to the other,
the course of a man’s life, in ignorance, negligence, and sin, proclaiming
contrary to the profession of Christianity, this is to make religion a
monstrous thing, to deny the nature of it, and in our imaginations to
contrive an impossible union of inconsistent things. It is a creature made
up of contradictions, which can have no subsistence in the truth, but only
in the fancies of deluded souls, one professing Christianity, and so by
consequence fellowship with the original light, the Sun of righteousness
and yet darkness of ignorance possessing the mind, and the heart carried
away in the ways of the lusts of ignorance, and walking in that darkness.
This is a monster in Christianity, one so far misshapen, that the very
outward form and visage of it doth not remain. But I told you, reason
confirms this. For what more suitable to the very natural frame and
constitution of a reasonable being, than that the outward man should be
the image and expression of the inward, and that they should answer one
another as face answers face in the water, that the tongue should be the
interpreter of the mind, and the actions of a man’s life the interpreter
of his tongue? Here is that beautiful proportion, and that pleasing
harmony, when all these, though different in their own nature, yet conjoin
together, and make up one sweet concord. Now truly, if we take upon us the
profession of Christianity, and yet our ordinary and habitual speeches are
carnal and earthly, never salted with grace, often poisoned with
blasphemies, oaths, and cursings, and often defiled with filthy speeches,
and often intermingled with reproaches of others, if our conversation be
conformed to the course of the world, according to those lusts that hurry
away multitudes of mankind to perdition, and look to the heart within, and
behold never any labour about the purifying of it from corruption, never
any mortification of evil affections, and little or no knowledge of the
truth, not so much as may let Christ into the soul: this, I say, is as
unreasonable and absurd, as it is irreligious: It wholly perverts that
beautiful order, makes an irreconcilable discord between all the parts in
man, that neither mind, nor mouth, nor hands, answer one another, nor all
of them, nor any of them answer that holy calling a man pretends to. Such
a one pretends ordinarily the goodness of his heart towards God, but now
the tongue cannot interpret the heart. It is exauctorated out of that
natural office, for the ordinary current is contrary to that pretended
goodness of the heart, for “a good man, out of the good treasure of his
heart, sendeth forth good things,” but all these are either evil, or never
seasoned with that spiritual goodness. Then the ways and actions of a
man’s life which ought to interpret and expound his professions, these are
rendered altogether incapable of that. They give no confirmation to them,
but rather a manifest contradiction, for what are your multiplied oaths,
drunkennesses, fornications, railings, contentions, lyings,
sabbath-profanations, your woful neglect of prayer in secret, and in your
families, your continuing in these evils that ever you walked into? What
are they, I say, but a manifest violation of both religion and reason, and
a clear confirmation that ye are liars, and the truth is not in you?
There is something even in nature to declare the absurdity and
unnaturalness of this general discordance between men’s profession and
practice. Look upon all the creatures, and do they not all with one voice
proclaim sincerity? Hath not every beast and every bird its own outward
shape, outward gesture, and voice, and external workings, which declare
the inward nature of it? And is not this a staple, known rule in nature,
that every thing is known by the effects of it, a lion by his roaring, a
lark by its singing, a horse by his neighing, and an ox by his lowing? &c.
All these speak forth nothing but sincerity, insomuch, that if these marks
and signs should be confounded, and beasts use them indifferently, all
human knowledge should suddenly fall to nothing, this would put such a
confusion both in the world and mankind. O how doth this condemn those who
pretend to this high calling of Christianity! And yet there is no way left
to discern them by, nothing appearing in them, and ordinarily proceeding
from them, which may give a signification of the inward truth of their
fellowship with God, but rather that which gives a demonstration of the
vanity of the pretension. There were no consent in nature, if that were
not, neither is there any harmonious agreement in religion, where this
proportion and correspondence is not kept in a man’s life. The very
heathens did not account them philosophers, but those that expressed their
doctrines in works, as well as words, and truly, the liveliest image of
truth is in practice. They commended them that were sparing in words, and
abundant in deeds, who had short speeches, but long and large discourses
in their life. And what is this, but that which our Saviour everywhere,
from his own example inculcates upon us? These words are emphatic, to _do
the truth_, to _walk in the light_, to _do his words_, to _believe with
the heart_, and such like, all which declare, that in so far we have the
truth and have fellowship with the Light as it is impressed in the
affection, and expressed again in the conversation. For the infinite truth
and the infinite life is one, and the original Light and primitive life
and love is one too and whoever truly receives the truth and light as it
is, cannot but receive him as the living truth and life giving Light and
so be heated and warmed inwardly by his beams, which will certainly cause
some stirring and working without. Forasmuch is in nature heat is always
working so is the fire of love kindled in the heart, incessant that way
“Faith worketh by love.” For action is the very life of life, that which
both shows it and preserves it.
Now what shall we say, to carry these things home to your hearts? Where
shall convincing words be had which may break the hardness of your hearts?
It is strange that you are in such a deep dream of delusion, that nothing
can awake you out of it. And how little is that in which you have to
please yourselves? Some external privileges the temple of the Lord, his
covenant and the seals of it, your ordinary hearing the word, and such
like. But are there not many things in your hearts and ways that act the
most contradictory be to these that can be? For wherefore do we thus meet
together? Do you know an end, or propose any? I scarce believe it of the
most part. We come out of custom, and many as by constraint, and with
little or no previous consideration of the great end of this work. And
when ye go forth, what fruit appears? Your ordinary cultural and civil
discourses succeed, and who is it either bows his knee to pray for the
divine blessing or entertains that holy word either in his own meditation,
or speaks of it to the edification of others? Are you not, the most part
of you, that ground of which Christ speaks, that lies in “the way side,”
and every thing comes and takes the seed up? Do you either listen and
apply your hearts to a presentness in hearing? Or is there any more
account of it, than a sound in the ear or any footstep or impression left
in the heart, more than of the flight of a bird in the air? And, alas!
how many souls are choked and stifled, the truth suffocated in the very
springing by the thorns of the cares of this world, and the throng and
importunity of businesses, and earthly desires? How many good motions come
to no maturity by this means? How few of you use to pray in secret and
dedicate a time for retirement from the world and enjoyment of God? Nay,
you think you are not called to it, and if any be induced to it and to
public worship in their families yet all the day over is but a flat
contradiction to that. What earthly mindedness! What unholiness of
affection! What impurity of conversation! What one lust is subdued? What
one sin mortified? Who increaseth more in knowledge of the truth or in
love of God? Is it not midnight with the most part of you? O the darkness
of the ignorance of your minds, by which you know not that religion you
profess, more than lurks who persecute it! And what are the ways to which
ye walk? Are they not such ways as will not come to the light, and hate
the light, because it reproves them? John iii. 19, 20, xi. 9, 10. Are they
not such in which men stumble, though they seem to walk easily and plainly
in them? Yet O that everlasting stumble that is at the end of them, when
you shall fall out of one darkness of sin and delusion into another
extreme, eternal darkness of destruction and damnation! O that fearful
dungeon and pit of darkness you post into! Therefore, if you love your
own souls, be warned. I beseech you be warned to flee from that utter
darkness. Be awaked out of your deceiving dreams, and deluding self
flattering imaginations, and “Christ shall give you light.” The discovery
of that gross darkness you walked in, in which you did not see whither you
went. I say, the clear discerning of what it is, and whither it leads, is
the first opening of that light, the first visit of that morning star,
that brings salvation.
If ye will not be convinced of that infinite danger you are in, yet ye are
not the further from it. He that walketh in darkness lieth, &c. His strong
confidence and persuasion hath a lie, a contradiction in the bosom of it,
and that will never bottom any true happiness. It is a lie acted by the
hand, the foot, and all the members, a lie against the holy truth and word
of God, and the very reproach of the name of Christ; a lie against
yourselves, and your own professions, a foul-murdering lie, as well as a
Christ denying lie. And this lie, as a holy man saith, hath filled
houses, cities, families, countries. It hath even overspread the whole
nation, and filled all with darkness, horror, confusion, trouble, and
anguish. Once being a holy nation by profession of a covenant with God,
and our open, manifest, universal retraction of that, by an unholy,
ungodly, and wicked conversation, this hath brought the sword against a
hypocritical nation, and this will bring that far greater, incomparably
more intolerable day of wrath upon the children of disobedience. Therefore
let me exhort all of you, in the name of the Lord, as ye desire to be
admitted to that eternally blessed society within the holy city, and not
to be excluded among those who commit abomination, and make a lie, that ye
would henceforth impose this necessity upon yourselves, or know that it is
laid upon you by God, to labour to know the will and truth of God, that
you may see that light that shines in the gospel, and not only to receive
it in your minds, but in your hearts by love that so you may endeavour in
all sincerity the doing of that truth, the conscionable practising of what
you know. And this, as it is a great point of conformity to the light, so
it will make you capable of more light from God, for he delights to show
his liberality, where he hath any acceptance. Be not satisfied, O be not
satisfied, with knowing these truths, and discoursing upon them, but make
them further your own, by impressing them deeply in your hearts, and
expressing them plainly in your ways! This is “pure religion and
undefiled,” James i. 27. And “is not this to know me, saith the Lord?”
Jer. xxii. 16. Practice is real knowledge, because it is living
knowledge. It is the very life and soul of Christianity, when there needs
no more but the intimation of his will to carry the whole man. This is
what we should all aspire unto, and not satisfy ourselves in our poor
attainments below this.
Sermon XIV.
1 John i. 7.—“But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light,
we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ
his Son cleanseth us from all sin.”
Art is the imitation of nature, and true religion is a divine art, that
consists in the imitation of God himself, the author of nature. Therefore
it is a more high and transcendent thing, of a sublimer nature than all
the arts and sciences among men. Those reach but to some resemblance of
the wisdom of God, expressed in his works, but this aspires to an
imitation of himself in holiness, which is the glory of his name, and so
to a fellowship with himself. Therefore there is nothing hath so high a
pattern, or sublime an end. God himself, who is infinitely above all, is
the pattern, and society with God is the end of it and so it cannot
choose, but where religion makes a solid impression on a soul. It must
exceedingly raise and advance it to the most heroic and noble resolutions
that it is capable of, in respect of which elevation of the soul after
God, the highest projects, the greatest aspirings, and the most elevating
designs of men, are nothing but low, base, and wretched, having nothing of
true greatness of mind in them, but running in an earthly and sordid
channel, infinitely below the poorest soul that is lifted up to God.
Since we have then so high a pattern as God, because he is infinitely
removed from us in his own nature, we have him expressed to us under the
name and notion of light, which makes all things manifest, not only as
dwelling in inaccessible light, that is in his own incomprehensible,
ineffable essence, even before this light was created, for he is in the
light, and was in the light, when there was no sun to give light, because
he was in himself environed, so to speak, with the infinite light and
splendour of his own understanding, and beauty of his own holiness, and so
dwelling in an all fulness and self sufficiency of blessedness, not only
is he thus in the light, but he is a light to poor sinners, the most
communicative Being, that ceaseth not continually to send forth streamings
of that light and life into dark and dead souls. And therefore he is not
only light in himself, but a sun of righteousness, most beneficial in his
influences, most impartial and free in his illumination, and so he is
often called,—“my light and my salvation,” our light, “a light to me,”
Psal. xxvii. 1, Micah vii. 8, Isa. xlii. 6, 7. Now, it is this emission of
light from him that first drives away that gross darkness that is over
souls, for till then, in the darkness all was hid and covered, nothing
seen, neither ourselves, nor God, neither the temper of our hearts, nor
the course of our ways, nor the end they lead to. But it is the breaking
in of a beam of that Sun of Righteousness that maketh any such discovery,
as motes are not seen till the sun shine, though the house be full of
them. In darkness there is nothing but confusion and disorder, and light
only makes that disorder visible to the soul, to the affecting of the
heart. Now, when once the soul hath received that light, there is a desire
kindled in the heart after more of it, as when the eye hath once perceived
the sweetness and pleasantness of the light, it opens itself and exposeth
itself to a fuller reception of more. And so the soul that is once thus
happily prevented by the first salutation and visit of that day-spring
from on high, while he is sitting in darkness, and in the shadow of death,
(Luke i. 78, 79) afterwards follows after that light, and desires nothing
more than to be imbosomed with it. That tender preventing mercy so draws
the heart after it, that it can never be at perfect rest till the night be
wholly spent, and all the shadows of it removed, and the sun clearly up
above the horizon and that is the day of that clear vision of God’s face.
But in the mean time, this is the great ambition and endeavour of such an
one, to walk in that light, and this is the very entertainment of that
fellowship with God. He is already in the light, that is, to say, he is
translated from a state of darkness to light, and endued with the living
and saving knowledge of God in Jesus Christ. This is his state. He is in
the light, one enlightened from above, having his eyes opened to discover
the mystery of the iniquity of his own heart, and to see far off, to that
bottomless pit of misery which his way would lead him to, one who hath by
this divine illustration discovered eternal things, and seen things not
seen, and withal, gotten some knowledge of salvation by the remission of
sins. Now, such an one, being thus in the light, his duty is, and his
infinite dignity besides, to walk in that light, that is, to lead all his
life under that eternal light of God, which shines in the word, and to
bring it all forth in his view, to make our whole course a progressive
motion towards heaven, wherein that glorious light shines most gloriously.
It is almost all one with that of Paul’s, to have our conversation in
heaven. For, to walk in the light, is a kind of elevation of our actions,
a raising them up to heaven, to that pure light, for after that and
towards that is the soul’s design.
Now to express to you in what it consists, I desire not to branch it forth
in many particulars, which rather distract the mind than affect the heart.
Only you may know, it consists especially in the inward retirements of the
soul to God, and the outward shining of that light in our conversation to
others. These are the chief parts of it, borrowing from his light, and
then lending and imparting it to others, by a holy conversation. Truly, we
must needs conceive that the most lively and unmixed partaking of the
light of God, and the sweetest society with him, is in the secret
withdrawings of the soul from the world, and reposes upon God those little
intervals, and, as it were, stolen hours of fellowship with God, that are
taken from the multitude and throng of our business. These are the fittest
opportunities of the transforming the soul into his similitude, and of
purifying it as he is pure, of filling it with divine light and love, for
then the heart lies, as it were, perpendicularly under his beams, and is
opened before him, to give admission and entry to this transforming light,
and it is the shining of God’s countenance then upon the soul that draws
it most towards conformity with him, and leaves an impression of light and
love upon the soul.
Oh! that you were more acquainted with this, this aprication, so to speak,
that is, sunning yourselves and warming in the sun, the exposing and
opening of your hearts frequently in secret, before this sun of
Righteousness. Now this, if you were acquaint with it, would make your
light so to shine before men, as your heavenly Father may be glorified,
Matt. v. 16,—and that is the walking in that light of God. This makes a
Christian to come forth, as Moses from the Mount, with his face shining.
He comes out from the retired access to God, with a lustre upon his
carriage, that may beautify the gospel, and (as one saith well) with the
tables of the law in both his hands, written in his practice, the light of
the law shining in his life. And truly this is the Christian’s diurnal
motion in his lower sphere, wherein he carries about that light that is
derived from the higher light. In all his converse with men, it shines
from him to the glorifying of him that is the Father of lights, walking
righteously and soberly, without offence, doing good to all, especially
the children of light, extending offices of love and benevolence to every
one, forbearing and forgiving offences, not partaking with other men’s
sins, and, finally, declaring in word and deed, that we have communion
with the fountain of pure light, and one day expect to be translated out
of this lower orb, where we are so far distant from him, and fixed in the
highest of all, where we may have the immediate, full, uninterrupted, and
clearest aspect of his countenance, which shall then make the description
that is here given of God communicable to us, that, as he is light, and in
him is no darkness, so we, being fully and perfectly shined upon by him,
may be light likewise, without any mixture of darkness, as here it is not.
Now, my beloved in the Lord, this is that we are called unto, to walk thus
in the light, in the light of obedience and sanctification, and that is
the great thing ye would learn to aspire unto, rather than to enjoy the
light of consolation. Indeed, I conceive, that which maketh many of us
walk in darkness, as is spoken in Isa. i. 10, that is, without comfort,
peace, and joy, and without clear discerning our interest in God, is,
because we walk in another darkness, that is, of sin and distance from
God. The one darkness is introductive of the other; nay, they cannot be
long without one another. The dark cloud of bold sinning, and careless
uncircumspect walking, that cannot but eclipse the light of consolation,
and fill the soul with some horror, anguish, and confusion. Therefore, if
ye would walk in the light of joy and comfort, O take heed nothing be
interposed between God and your souls! You must likewise walk in the light
of his law, which is as a lamp to the feet, and this light, as the ray,
begets that light of comfort, as the splendour, which is the second light
of the sun. I know it is a disconsolate and sad condition, to walk without
the light of the knowledge of our interest in God, but I would earnestly
recommend unto you two things to support you, and help you in that. One
is, that you do not give over the chief point of this society with God,
that is, walking in the light of his law and commandments, but that you do
the more seriously address yourself to the one, that you want the other.
Certainly, it ought to be no hinderance of your obedience, and patient
continuing in obedience, that you know not your own interest, and that his
countenance shines not so upon you. You know that sweet resolution, “I
will wait upon the Lord, who hides his face,” &c. (Isa. viii. 17, Mic.
vii. 7,) and his own command, Isa. i. 10, Hos. xii. 6. Ye that walk in
such darkness, nevertheless, “stay upon God.” Truly, there could be no
greater evidence of thy interest than this,—to give patient attendance
upon him in the ways of obedience, till he shine forth. This would in due
time “bring forth thy righteousness as the light,” if we would not
subtract and withdraw ourselves from under the light, because it is
presently overclouded. Then, moreover, you would know, that all this while
that your interest in Christ lies dark and under a cloud, you would then
be most in the application of that blood to your souls, most in trusting
and staying upon the name of God, and his absolute promises. Suppose thou
do not as yet know that he is thine, yet dost thou not know that he is
made thine by believing in him? And therefore, while it is inevident that
it is already, thou oughtest so much the more to labour, that what is not
may be. Now, if thou canst not apply him to thy soul, as thine own
possession, yet thou mayest, and so much the more oughtest to apply thy
soul to him, and resign and offer thyself to him, as willing to be his
possession, to be his, and no more thine own. In a word, when thine own
experimental feeling of the work of God’s Spirit fails within thee, then
so much the more insist, and dwell upon the meditation and belief of the
general promises, which are the proper object of faith, and not of sense.
As our own interest is the proper object of sense, and not of faith,
therefore the defect in the one needs not redound upon the other. To sum
up all in one word,—if thou thinkest that thou hast not yet believed in
Christ, and hast no interest in him, I will not dispute with thee, to
persuade thee thou art mistaken, for all this debate would be in the dark,
because thou art in darkness. But one thing I would say unto thee,—labour
to do that which thou wouldest do, which thou must do, if such a case were
granted. Suppose it were so, that thou had no interest in him, what
wouldst thou do then? I am sure thou wouldst say, I would labour by any
means to have him mine. Why then thou knowest that cannot be before
believing, and receiving him on his promises, and not at all but by
believing. Therefore, since that this is it you must at length turn unto,
suppose the case were decided, why do you not presently, rather without
more wearying yourselves in the greatness of your way, turn in thither, as
to a place of refuge without further disputing in the business, and so by
believing in Christ and waiting upon him in his ways, you shall put that
out of question, which debating would make an endless question. The Lord
make you wise to know the things that belong to your peace.
Sermon XV.
1 John i. 7.—“And the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us
from all sin.”
Can two walk together except they be agreed? As darkness cannot have
fellowship with light, till it be changed into some conformity to the
light, even so there can neither be any fellowship in walking, nor
conformity in nature, between God and us who are enemies to him by nature,
unless there be some agreement and reconciliation of the difference. Now,
here is that which maketh the atonement,—“The blood of Jesus his Son
cleanseth us from all sin.” This is it that takes away the difference
between God and men, and makes reconciliation for us. This blood hath
quenched the flame of indignation and wrath kindled in heaven against us.
And this alone can quench and extinguish the flames and furies of a
tormented soul, that is burned up with the apprehension of his anger. All
other things thou canst apply or cast upon them will be as oil to increase
them, whether it be to cool thyself in the shadows of the world’s
delights, such a poor shift as the rich glutton would have taken in hell.
Those drops of cold water that thou canst distil out of the creature will
never give any solid ease to thy conscience. Thou mayest abate the fury of
it, or put it off for a season. Thou who art afraid of hell and wrath,
mayest procure some short vacancy from those terrors by turning to the
world, but certainly they will recur again, and break out in a greater
fire like a fever that is not diminished, but increased by much drinking
cold water. Or if thou go about to refresh thyself and satisfy thy
challenges by thy own attainments in religion, and by reflection upon thy
own heart and ways, finding something in thy esteem that may
counterbalance thy evils, and so give thee some confidence of God’s
favour, those, I say, are but deceitful things, and will never either
quench the displeasure of God for thy sins, but rather add fuel to it,
because thou justifiest thyself, which is an abomination before him. Nor
yet will it totally extinguish and put to silence the clamours of thy
conscience, but, that some day thou shalt be spoiled of all that self
confidence and self defence, and find thyself so much the more displeasing
to God, that thou didst please thyself and undertake to pacify him.
Therefore, my beloved, let me, above all things, recommend this unto you
as the prime foundation of all religion, upon which all our peace with
God, pardon of sin, and fellowship with God must be built,—that the blood
of Jesus Christ be applied unto your consciences by believing, and that,
first of all, upon the discovery of your enmity with God, and infinite
distance from him, you apply your hearts unto this blood, which is the
atonement—to the reconciling sacrifice, which alone hath virtue and power
with God. Do not imagine that any peace can be without this. Would ye walk
with God, which is a badge of agreement? Would ye have fellowship with
God, which is a fruit of reconciliation? Would ye have pardon of sins, and
the particular knowledge of it, which is the greatest effect of
favour,—and all this, without and before application of Christ, “who is
our peace,” in whom only the Father is well pleased? Will ye seek these,
and yet depute this point of believing, as if it were possible to attain
these without the sprinkling of that blood on the heart, which indeed
cleanseth it from an evil accusing conscience? If you desire to walk in
the light, as he is in the light, why weary ye yourselves in thy ways? Why
take ye such a compass of endless and fruitless agitation, and perplexity
of mind, and will not rather come straightway at it, by the door of Jesus
Christ? For he is the new and living way into which you must enter, if ye
would walk in the light. And the wounds of his side, out of which this
blood gushed, these open you a way of access to him, because he was
pierced for us. That stream of blood, if ye come to it and follow it all
along, it will certainly carry you to the sea of light and love, where you
have fellowship with God. And, oh! how much comfort is in it, that there
is such a stream running all the way of our walking with God—all the way
of our fellowship! That fountain of Christ’s blood runs not dry but runs
along with the believer, for the cleansing of his after pollutions, of his
defilements, even in the very light itself. This, then, as it is the first
foundation of peace and communion with God, so it is the perpetual
assurance and confirmation of it, that which first gives boldness, and
that alone which still continues boldness in it. It is the first ground,
and the constant warrant and security of it, without which it would be as
soon dissolved as made. If that blood did not run along all this way, to
wash all his steps, if the way of light and fellowship with God were not
watered and refreshed with the continual current of this blood, certainly
none could walk in it without being consumed. Therefore it is, that the
mercy of God, and riches of grace in Christ, hath provided this blood for
us, both to cleanse the sins of ignorance before believing, and the sins
of light after believing, that a poor sinner may constantly go on his way,
and not be broken off from God by his infirmities and escapes in the way.
You see, then, the gospel runs in these two golden streams—pardon of sin,
and purity of walking. They run undividedly, all along in one channel, yet
without confusion one with another, as it is reported of some great rivers
that run together between the same banks, and yet retain distinct colours
and natures all the way, till they part. But these streams that glad the
city of God never part one from another. The cleansing blood and the
purifying light, these are the entire and perfect sum of the gospel.
Purification from sin, the guilt of sin, and the purity of walking in the
light flowing from that, make up the full complexion of Christianity,
which are so nearly conjoined together, that if they be divided they cease
to be, and cannot any of them subsist, save in men’s deluded imagination.
The end of washing in the blood of Christ is, that we may come to this
light, and have fellowship with it. For the darkness of hell, the utter
darkness of the curse of God, which overspreads the unbelieving soul, and
eclipses all the light of God’s countenance from him,—that dark and thick
cloud of guiltiness, that heap of unrenewed conversation, this, I say,
must be removed by the cleansing of the blood of Christ, and then the soul
is admitted to enjoy that light, and walk in it. And it is removed chiefly
for this end, that there may be no impediment in the way of this
fellowship. This blood cleanseth, that you, being cleansed, may henceforth
walk in purity, and there is no purity like that of the light of God’s
countenance and commands. And so you are washed in the blood of Christ,
that you may walk in the light of God, and take heed that you defile not
your garments again. But if so be, (and certainly it will be, considering
our weakness,) that you defile yourselves again, like foolish children
who, after they have washed, run to the puddle again, forgetting that they
were cleansed, if either your daily infirmities trouble, or some grosser
pollution defile and waste your conscience, know that this blood runs all
along in the same channel of your obligation to holy walking, and is as
sufficient now as ever, to cleanse you from all sin, from sins of daily
incursion, and sins of a grosser nature. There is no exception in that
blood, let there be none in your application to it and apprehension of it.
Now, this is not to give boldness to any man to sin, or continue in sin,
because of the lengthened use and continued virtue and efficacy of the
blood of Christ, for if any man draw such a result from it, and improve it
to the advantage of his flesh, he declares himself to have no portion in
it, never to have been washed by it. For what soul can in sobriety look
upon that blood shed by the Son of God, to take away the sins of the
world, and find an emboldening to sin from that view? Who can wash and
cleanse here, and presently think of defilement, but with indignation?
I speak these things the rather, because there is a twofold
misapprehension of the gospel among Christians, and on both hands much
darkness and stumbling is occasioned. We have poor narrow spirits, and do
not take entire truth in its full comprehension, and so we are as unfit
and unequal discerners of the gospel, and receivers of it, as he that
would judge of a sentence by one word, of a book by one page, of a harmony
by one note, and of the world by one parrel of it. The beauty and harmony
of things consist in their entire union, and though there should appear
many discrepancies and unpleasant discords in several parts, yet all
united together, makes up a pleasant concert. Now this is our childish
foolishness, that we look upon the gospel only by halves, and this being
alone seen, begets misapprehensions and mistakes in our minds, for
ordinarily we supply that which we see not with some fancy of our own.
When the blood of Jesus Christ is holden out in its full virtue, in the
large extent of its efficacy, to cleanse all sin, and to make peace with
God, and wipe away all transgressions, as if they had never been, the
generality of you never apprehending much your own desperate condition,
nor conceiving an absolute necessity of a change, you think this is all
that is in the gospel, and begin to flatter yourselves, and bless
yourselves, though you live in the imaginations of your own hearts, and
never apprehend the absolute need and inevitable sequel of walking in
purity after pardon. And, alas! there is something of this sometimes
overtakes the hearts of true believers, in the slight and overly
consideration of the mercy of God, and blood of Christ, you do not lay the
constraint upon your hearts to a holy conversation. I say, it is not
because you apprehend that blood, that you take more liberty to the flesh,
but rather because you too slightly and superficially consider it, and
that but the one half of it, without piercing into the proper end of that
cleansing, which is, that we may walk in purity.
But, on the other hand, some believing souls, having their desires
enlarged after more holiness and conformity to God, and apprehending not
only the necessity of it, but the beauty and comeliness of it, yet finding
withal how infinitely short they come, and how oft their purposes are
broken and disappointed, and themselves plunged in the mire of their own
filthiness, this doth discourage them, and drives them to such a
despondency and dejection of spirit, that they are like to give over the
way of holiness as desperate. Now, my beloved, for you who look upon the
gospel by a parcel,(243) and such a parcel as enjoins much upon you, I
would earnestly beseech you to open and enlarge your hearts to receive the
full body of the truth, to look upon that cleansing blood as well as that
pure light, to consider the perpetual use of the one, until you have fully
attained the other. Know that the fountain is kept open, and not shut, not
only to admit you to come at first, but to give ready access in all after
defilements, and there is no word more comprehensive than this here, it
“cleanseth from all sin.” All thy exceptions, doubts, and difficulties,
are about some particular sins and circumstances, thy debates run upon
some exception. But here is an universal comprehensive word, that excludes
all exception—no kind of sin, either for quality, or degree, or
circumstance, is too great for this blood. And therefore, as you have
reason to be humbled under your failings, so there is no reason to be
discouraged, but rather to revive your spirits and vigour again in the
study of this walking in the light, knowing that one day we shall be in
the light, as he is in it. Nay, take this along with you, as your strength
and encouragement to your duty, as the greatest provocation to more
purity,—that there is so constant readiness of pardon in that blood.
Sermon XVI.
1 John i. 8.—“If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves,
and the truth is not in us.”
“The night is far spent, the day is at hand,” Rom. xiii. 12. This life is
but as night, even to the godly. There is some light in it,—some star
light, but it is mixed with much darkness of ignorance and sin, and so it
will be, till the sun arise, and the morning of their translation to
heaven come. But though it be called night in one sense, in regard of that
perfect glorious perpetual day in heaven, yet they are called the children
of light, and of the day, and are said to walk in the light, and are
exhorted to walk honestly as in the day, because, though there is a
mixture of darkness in them, of weakness in their judgments, and impurity
in their affections, yet they are _nati ad majora_, “born to greater
things,” and aspiring to that perfect day. There is so much light as to
discern these night-monsters, their own corruptions, and Satan’s
temptations,—to fight continually against them. They are about this noble
work, the purifying themselves from sin and darkness, so that they lie in
the middle, between the light of angels and glorified spirits, that hath
no darkness in it, and the midnight of the rest of the world, who are
buried in darkness and wickedness, and lie entombed in it, as the word is,
1 John v. 19, “The whole world, (καται) lieth in wickedness: but we know
that we are of God,” therefore the apostle subjoins here very seasonably a
caution or correction of that which was spoken about the walking in the
light, and fellowship with God, which words sound out some perfection,
and, to our self flattering minds, might possibly suggest some too high
opinion of ourselves. If we, even we that have fellowship with God, even
I, the apostle, and you believing Christians, if we say, we have no sin,
no darkness in us, we do but deceive ourselves, and deny the truth. But
who will say that I have no sin? Solomon gives a challenge to all the
world, Prov. xx. 9, “Who can say, I have made my heart clean, I am pure
from my sin?” And, indeed, there is no man so far a stranger to himself,
but if he, in sobriety and calmness, retire into his own heart, the very
evidence of the impurity of it will extort this confession from him. As it
useth to be said of an atheist, he feels that Divine majesty within his
secret thoughts and conscience which he denieth with his mouth, and he is
often forced to tremble at the remembrance of him whom he will not
confess.(244) So if there be any so far bewitched and enchanted into so
gross and impudent a delusion, as to assert his own perfection and vacancy
from sin, and freedom from obligation to any divine command (as this time
is fruitful of such monsters), yet I dare be bold to say, that in the
secret and quiet reflections on themselves, they find that which they will
not confess. Inwardly they feel what outwardly they deny, and cannot but
sometime or other be filled with horror and anguish in their consciences,
by that inwardly witnessing and checking principle, when God shall give it
liberty to exercise its power over them. The end of such will be, as of
professed atheists. They pretend the securest contempt and most fearless
disregard of God, but then, when he awakes to judgment, or declares
himself in something extraordinary, they are subject to the most panic
fears and terrors, because then there is a party armed within against
them, which they had disarmed in security, and kept in chains. So,
whensoever such men, of such high pretensions, and sublime professions,
who love to speak nothing but mysteries, and presume to such glorious
discoveries of new lights of spiritual mysteries; when these, I say, have
flattered themselves for a season, in the monstrous exorbitant conceit of
their own perfection, and immunity from sin, and, it may be, deceived some
others too, when they have lived some time in this golden dream of
innocency, the time will come, either when the mighty hand of God is on
them here, or when they must enter eternity, that they shall awake, and
find all their iniquities in battle array, mustered by the Lord of hosts,
in their conscience against themselves, and then they shall be the rarest
examples of fear, terror, and unbelief who pretended to the greatest
confidence, clearness, and innocency. My beloved, let us establish this as
an infallible rule, to discern the spirits by, and to know what religion
is,—if it tend to glorify God, and abase man, to make him more humble, as
well as holy,—if it give the true and perfect discovery of God to man, and
of man to himself,—that is true religion and undefiled. But away with
those sublime speculations, those winged and airy mysteries, those
pretensions to high discoveries and new lights, if they do not increase
that good old light of “humble walking with thy God” &c. If they tend to
the loosing of the obligation of divine commands on thee, if they ravish
man so high that he seeth not himself any more to be a poor, miserable,
and darkened creature, certainly that is no fellowship with the pure
light, which is not continually the discovery and further manifestation of
more sin and darkness in us. For what is a man’s light in the dark night
of this life, but the clearing light of that darkness that is in man? And
his holiness what is it, but the abhorring of himself for that? It is
true, something further is attained than the knowing of this, but it is
always so far short of that original pattern that the best way of
expressing our conformity to it, is by how much we apprehend our distance
and deformity from it.
But, my beloved, this is not all that is here meant, nor must we take it
so grossly, as if this did only check the open professors of a sinless,
spotless sanctity. Nay, certainly, there is another way of saying this
than by the tongue and many other ways of self deceiving than that gross
one, many more universal and more dangerous, because less discernible.
There is something of this that even true believers may fall into, and
there is something of it more common to the generality of professed
Christians.
Among believers in Christ there is much difference in self judging,
extreme contrarieties, both between diverse persons and in one and the
same, at diverse times. You know that some are kept in the open view of
their own sins and infirmities, and while they aim at holiness they are
wholly disabled to that worthy endeavour by their discouragements arising
from the apprehension of their own weakness and infinite short coming. Now
to elevate and strengthen such spirits, that word was seasonally cast in,
“and the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin,” for it properly
belongs to the comfort of such fainting souls, and it is all one as if he
had said, up and be doing, and the blood of Christ shall cleanse your evil
doings. He goeth not about to persuade them to have better thoughts of
themselves, or lower apprehensions of their sins but only to have higher
and more suitable thoughts of Christ, and the virtue of his blood, and
this is the only cure,—not to abate from that low esteem of ourselves, but
to add to the esteem and grow in the lively apprehension of Christ. I
would not counsel you to think yourselves better, but to think better of
him, that all your confidence may arise from him.
Now there are others, (and it may be that same person at another time,—for
the wind of temptation veers about, and is sometimes in one corner,
sometimes in an other,—our adversary useth many stratagems, and will seem
to flee before us, in yielding us the victory over our unbelief, that he
may in his flight return and throw some other dart upon us unawares,) when
they have attained any fervency of desires, and height of design after
holiness and walking with God, and this is seconded with any lively
endeavours, and this confirmed and strengthened with those presences of
God, and accesses into the soul, that fill it with some sweetness,—then, I
say, they are ready to apprehend too highly of themselves, as if they had
attained, and to look below upon others with some disdain. Then there is
not that present discovery of themselves, that may intermingle humble
mourning with it, but a kind of unequal measuring their attainments by
their desires, which in all true Christians are exceedingly mounted above
themselves. Now, indeed, this is in effect, and really to say, “we have no
sin.” Herein is a delusion, a self deceiving fancy, that begets too much
self pleasing. Let us know where our stance is,(245) infinitely below
either our duty or our desire, and remind this often, that we may not be
in hazard to be drunk with self love and self deceit in this particular.
Besides, are there not many Christians who, having been once illuminated,
and had some serious exercises in their souls, both of sorrow for sin and
fear of wrath and comfort by the gospel, and being accustomed to some
discharge of religious duties in private and public, sit down here, and
have not mind of further progress? They think, if they keep that stance,
they are well, and so have few designs or endeavours after more communion
with God, or purification from sin. Now this makes them degenerate to
formality. They wither and become barren, and are exposed by this to many
temptations which overcome them. But, my beloved, is not this really and
indeed to say, “we have no sin?” Do not your walking and the posture of
your spirits import so much, as if you had no sin to wrestle with, no more
holiness to aspire unto, as if ye had no further race to run to obtain the
crown? Do not deceive yourselves, by thinking it sufficient to have so
much honesty and grace, as in your opinion may put you over the black
line, in irregeneration, as if ye would seek no more than is precisely
necessary for salvation. Truly, if ye be so minded, you give a miserable
hint, that you are not yet translated from the black side of darkness. I
do not say that all such are unconverted, but, if you continue thus,
without stirring up yourselves to a daily conversion and renovation, ye do
too much to blot out the evidence of your conversion and at length it may
prove to some a self destroying deceit, when they shall find themselves
not passed over that line that passeth between heaven and hell, which they
were studying to find out, only that they might pass so far over it, as
might keep their soul and hell asunder, without earnest desires of
advancement towards heaven in conformity to God. Now, for the generality
of professed Christians, though there be none who have that general
confession of sin oftener and more readily in their mouths, yet, I
suppose, it is easy to demonstrate that there is much of this self deceit
in them, which declares that the truth is not in them. You know both God
and man construct(246) of men by their ways, not by their words, and the
Lord may interpret your hearts by their dispositions, and raise a
collection of atheism out of all together. “The fool hath said in his
heart,” &c. Even so say I, many pretended Christians say in their heart,
“we have no sin.” How prove ye that? I seek nothing else to prove it, than
your own ordinary clearings and excusings of yourselves. Ye confess ye are
sinners, and break all the commands, yet come to particulars, and I know
not one of twenty that will cordially or seriously take with almost any
sin. Yea, what you have granted in a general, you retract and deny it in
all the particulars, which declares both that even that which you seem to
know, you are altogether strangers to the real truth of it, and that you
are over blinded with a fond love of yourselves. I know not to what
purposes your general acknowledgments are, but to be a mask or shadow to
deceive you, to be a blind to hide you from yourselves, since the most
part of you, whensoever challenged of any particular sin, or inclination
to it, justify yourselves, and whenever ye are put to a particular
confession of your sins, you have all rapt up in such a bundle of
confusion, that you never know one sin by another. Certainly, ye deceive
yourselves, and the truth is not in you.
Let me add, moreover, another instance. Do you not so live, and walk in
sin so securely, so impenitently, as if you had no sin, no fear of God’s
wrath? Do not the most part contentedly and peaceably live in so much
ignorance of the gospel, as if they had no need of Christ, and so, by
consequence, as if they had no sin? For if you did believe in the heart,
and indeed consider that your hearts are sinks of iniquity and impurity,
would you not think it necessary to apply to the Physician? And would you
not then labour to know the Physician, and the gospel, which is the report
of him? Certainly, inasmuch as you take no pains for the knowledge of a
Saviour, you declare that you know not your sin, for if ye know the one,
ye could not but search to know the other. What is the voice of most men’s
walking? Doth it not proclaim this, that they think there is no sin in
them? For if there be sin in you, is there not a curse upon you, and wrath
before you? And if you did really see the one, would you not see the
other? And did you see it, would it not drive you to more serious
thoughts? Would it not affright you? Would it not cause you often to
retire into yourselves, and from the world? And, above all, how precious
would the tidings of a Saviour be, that now are common and contemptible?
Would you not every day wash in that blood? Would the current of
repentance dry? But, forasmuch as you are not exercised this way, give no
thoughts nor time for reconcilement with God, walk without any fear of
hell, and without any earnest and serious study of changing your ways, and
purifying your hearts, in a word, though ye confess sin in the general,
yet your whole carriage of heart and ways declare so much, that you think
it not a thing much to be feared, or that a man should busy himself about
it, that a man may live in it, and be well here and hereafter. And is not
this to deny the very nature of sin, and to deceive your own souls?
Sermon XVII.
1 John i. 9.—“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to
forgive us our sins”, &c.
The current of sin dries not up, but runs constantly while we are in this
life. It is true, it is much diminished in a believer, and it runs not in
such an universal flood over the whole man as it is in the unbeliever. Yet
there is a living spring of sin within the godly, which is never ceasing
to drop out pollution and defilement, either upon their whole persons, or,
at least, to intermingle it with their good actions. Now, there is no
comfort for this, but this one that there is another stream of the blood
of Jesus Christ that never dries up, is never exhausted, never emptied,
but flows as full and as free, as clear and fresh as ever it did, and this
is so great, and of so great virtue, that it is able to swallow up the
stream of our pollutions, and to take away the daily filth of a believers
conversation. Now indeed, though the blood of Jesus Christ be of such
infinite virtue and efficacy, that it were sufficient to cleanse the sins
of the whole world, it would be an over ransom for the souls of all men,
there is so much worth in it. That flood of guiltiness that hath drowned
the world,—this flood of Christ’s blood that gushed out of his side, is of
sufficient virtue to cleanse it perfectly away. Notwithstanding of this
absolute universal sufficiency, yet certain it is, that it is not actually
applied unto the cleansing of all men’s sins, but yet the most part of men
are still drowned in the deluge of their own wickedness, and lie entombed
in darkness; therefore it concerns us to know the way of the application
of this blood to the cleansing of sinners, and this way is set down in
this verse, “If we confess our sins, he is just to forgive.” There was
something hinted at obscurely in the preceding verse, for when he shows
that such as say they have no sin, who either, by the deposition of their
hearts, or carriage of their ways, do by interpretation say that they want
sin, such deceive themselves, and the truth is not in them, and so they
have no benefit of that blood that cleanseth from all sin. And so it is
imported here, that though the blood of Christ be fully sufficient to
cleanse all sin, yet it is not so prostituted and basely spent upon
sinners, as to be bestowed upon them who do not know their sins, and never
enter into any serious and impartial examination of themselves. Such,
though they say they are sinners, yet never descending into themselves to
search their own hearts and ways, and so never coming to the particular
knowledge of their sins, and feeling of them, they cannot at all make
application of that blood to their own consciences, either seriously or
pertinently. Though the river and fountain of Christ’s blood run by them,
in the daily preaching of the gospel, yet being destitute of this daily
self-inspection and self-knowledge, being altogether ignorant of
themselves, they can no more wash here than those who never heard of this
blood. They being strangers to themselves, sets them at as great distance
and estrangement from the blood of Christ, as if they were wholly
strangers to the very preaching of this blood. Let us, then, have this
first established in our hearts,—that there is no cleansing from sin,
without the knowledge of sin, and there is no true knowledge of sin,
without a serious soul examination of sin. These are knit together in
their own nature. For how should our sins be pardoned, when we know
nothing of them but in a confused generality that can never affect the
heart? How should our sins not be opened and discovered before the
holiness of God, when they are always covered unto us, and hid from our
eyes? Certainly, the righteousness and wisdom of God require, that such a
monstrous thing, so great an enemy of God’s holiness, be not wholly passed
away in silence without observation. If we do not observe, he will, for to
what purpose should pardon be so lavished upon them who are not capable of
knowing what favour and grace is in it? And certainly, that none can know
without the feeling knowledge of the height and heinousness of sin. Now, I
pray you, how should you know your sins, when you will not allow any time
for the searching of yourselves? Many cannot say, that ever they did
purposely and deliberately withdraw from the world, and separate their
spirits for this business of self examination, and therefore you remain
perpetually strangers to yourselves, and as great strangers to the power
and virtue of this blood.
Now, in this verse, he declares it plainly in what way and method sin is
pardoned by this blood. By the former verse, we have so much, that it is
necessary we must search and try our ways, that so we may truly know our
sins, and charge them upon ourselves, and here it is superadded, that we
must confess them to him: and the promise is annexed, “he is just and
faithful to forgive.” Now, this confession of sin is very fitly subjoined,
both to that which he declared of that great end of that gospel,—communion
with God,—and that which was immediately holden forth of the remaining
virtue of Christ’s blood. For might a poor soul say, How shall I come to
partake of that blessed society? I am a sinner, and so an enemy to God,
how shall this enmity be removed? And if the answer be made, “The blood of
Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin,” and so maketh access for a sinner to
enter into this society, yet a question remains, and how shall the virtue
of that be applied to my soul? It is sufficient, I know, for all, but what
way may I have the particular benefit of it? Here it is fully satisfied,
“if we confess our sins, God is just and faithful to forgive.” He lieth
under some obligation to pardon us. Now, many of you may think, if this be
the way, and these be the terms of pardon, then we hope all shall be
pardoned, for if there be no more but to confess our sins, who will not
willingly do that, and who doth not daily do it? As one said, “if it be
sufficient to accuse, none will be innocent,” _si accusasse sufficiat,
nemo innocens erit_; so you may think, _si confileri sufficiat, nemo reus
erit_, “if it be sufficient to confess, none will be guilty.” But, my
beloved, let us not deceive ourselves with the present first apprehensions
of words that occur in this kind. It is true, as ye take confession, there
is nothing more ordinary, but, if it be taken in the true scripture
meaning, and in the realest sense, I fear there is nothing among men so
extraordinary. I desire you may but consider how you take this word in
your dealings with men,—you take it certainly in a more real sense than
you use it in religion. If any had done you some great wrong or injury,
suppose your servant, or inferior, what acknowledgment would you take from
him of his wrong? If he confessed his wrong only in general ambiguous
terms, if he did it either lightly, or without any sense or sorrow for it,
if he did withal excuse and extenuate his fault, and never ceased,
notwithstanding of all his confession, to do the like wrong when occasion
offered, would you not think this a mockery, and would it not rather
provoke you than pacify you? Now, when you take words in so real and deep
significations in your own matters, what gross delusion is it, that you
take them in the slightest and emptiest meaning in those things that
relate to God? And I am sure the most part of men’s confessions are of
that nature which I have described,—general, ignorant, senseless, without
any particular view, or lively feeling, of the vileness and loathsomeness
of sin, and their own hearts. Whenever it comes to particulars, there is a
multitude of extenuations and pretences to hide and cover the sin, and
generally men never cease the more from sinning. It puts no stop in their
running, as the horse to the battle. Today they confess it, and tomorrow
they act it again with as much delight as before. Now, of this I may say,
“Offer it to thy governor, and see if he will be pleased with thee,” or
let another offer such an acknowledgment of wrong to thee, and see if it
will please thee, and if it will not, why deceive ye yourselves with the
outward visage of things in these matters that are of greatest
soul-concernment? Should they not be taken in the most inward and
substantial signification that can be, lest you be deceived with false
appearances, and, while you give but a shadow of confession, you receive
but a shadow of forgiveness, such a thing as will not carry and bear you
out before God’s tribunal? Therefore we must needs take it thus, that
confession of sin is the work of the whole man, and not of the mouth only.
It is the heart, tongue, and all that is in a man, joining together to the
acknowledgment of sin, and God’s righteousness, therefore it includes in
it, not only a particular knowledge of our offences, and the temper of our
hearts, but a sensible feeling of the loathsomeness and heinousness of
these. And this is the spring that it flows from,—a broken and contrite
heart that is bruised under the apprehensions of the weight of guiltiness,
and is embittered with the sense of the gall of iniquity that possesseth
the heart. Here, then, is the great moment of confession and repentance,
what is the inward fountain it flows from? If the heart be brought to the
distinct and clear view of itself and to discern the iniquity and plague
of it, and so to fall down under the mighty hand of God, and before his
tribunal, as guilty, as not being able or willing to open his mouth in an
excuse or extenuation of sin or to plead for compassion from any
consideration in himself, a soul thus placed between iniquities set in
order and battle array, on the one hand, and the holy law and
righteousness of God, on the other hand, the filthiness of the one filling
with shame and confusion, and the dreadfulness of the other causing fear
and trembling, in this posture, I say, for a soul to come and fall at the
Judge’s feet, and make supplication to him in his Son Christ, thus being
inwardly pressed to vent and pour out our hearts before him, in the
confession of our sins, and to flee unto the city of refuge,—his mercy and
grace that is declared in Jesus Christ,—this, I say, is indeed to confess
our sins, for then confession is an exoneration and disburdening of the
heart,—it flows from the abundance of the inward contrition of it. And as
this must be the spring of it, so there is another stream that will
certainly flow from the ingenuous confession of our sins that is, a
forsaking of them. These are the two streams that flow from one head and
spring the inward fountain of contrition and sorrow for sin there is a
holy indignation kindled in the heart against sin, and an engagement upon
such a soul, as indeed flees to mercy, to renounce sin, and here is the
complete nature of true repentance. Solomon joins them, “He that
confesseth and forsaketh shall have mercy,” Prov. xxviii. 13. And this is
opposed to covering of sins—for “he that covereth his sins shall not
prosper.” And what is that to cover his sin? Confessing them in a general
confused notion, without any distinct knowledge or sense of any particular
guiltiness? That is a covering of sins. Or confessing sin and not
forsaking of it? That is a covering of sin for to act sin over again with
continual fresh delight and vigour, is to retract our confessions and to
bury and cover them with the mould of new transgressions. Now, take this
unto you, you “shall not prosper.” What can be said worse? For you are
but in a dream of happiness, and you shall one day be shaken out of it,
and that fancied pardon shall evanish, and then your sins that you covered
in this manner, shall be discovered before the Judge or the world, and you
“shall not stand in judgment.”
Sermon XVIII.
1 John i. 9.—“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to
forgive us our sins,” &c.
The freedom of God’s grace, and the greatness of his wisdom, shine forth
most brightly in the dispensation of the gospel, and both of them beautify
and illustrate one another. That there is, first, an expiation of sin by
the blood of Jesus Christ, that a way is laid down of reconciling the
world, and that by the blood of the cross, that peace is purchased and so
preached unto sinners, as a thing already procured, and now only to be
applied unto the soul by faith,—herein doth the estimable riches of the
grace of God expose itself to the view of angels and men. That the great
work of redemption is ended, ere it come to us, and there remains nothing,
but to publish it to the world, and invite us to come and receive it, and
have a part in it,—all is ready, the feast prepared, and set on the table,
and there wants nothing but guests to eat of it, and these are daily
called by the gospel to come to this table, which the wisdom of the Father
hath prepared for us, without either our knowledge or concurrence.
Besides, the very terms of proposing the gospel, speak forth absolute
freedom. What can be more free and easy than this? Christ is sent to die
for sinners, and to redeem them from the curse,—only receive him, come to
him, and believe in him. He hath undertaken to save, only do you consent
too, and give up your name to him,—ye have nothing to do to satisfy
justice, or purchase salvation, only be willing that he do it for you, or
rather acquiesce in that he hath done already, and rest on it. But how
shall our sins be pardoned, and justice satisfied? Only confess your sins
to him, and ye are forgiven, not for your confession, but for Christ, only
acknowledge thine iniquity and wrongs, and he hath taken another way to
repair his justice than by thy destruction and condemnation. He is so far
from extending his justice against thee, that he is rather engaged upon
his faithfulness and justice to forgive thee, because of his promise.
Yet, ye would not conceive so of this manner of proposal of forgiveness
and salvation, as if the requiring of such a thing as repentance in thee
were any derogation from the absoluteness of his grace for it is not
required, either to the point of satisfaction to God’s justice, and
expiation of sin, for that is done already upon the cross. Christ was not
offered to save sinners, he was not sent upon the previous condition of
their repentance nay, “while we were yet enemies, Christ died for the
ungodly.” So that to the business of our redemption there was no
concurrence upon our part nor influence upon it by our carriage, for he
considered us as sinners, and miserable, and so saved us. And now, to the
actual application of these preventing mercies,—it is true, it is needful
in the wise and reasonable dispensation of God, that sinners be brought to
the knowledge and sensible acknowledgment of their sin and misery, and so
be upon rational inducements of misery within, and mercy without, of
self-indigency, and Christ’s sufficiency, be drawn unto Jesus Christ, and
so to a partaking of those purchased privileges of forgiveness of sin,
peace with God, &c. I say, all this is so far from diminishing a jot of
that absolute freedom of grace, that it rather jointly proclaims the
riches of grace and wisdom both, that repentance should be given to an
impenitent sinner, and faith freely bestowed on an unbelieving sinner, and
withal, that remission and salvation, together with faith and repentance,
should be brought to us by his death, while we were yet enemies,—this doth
declare the most unparalleled bounty and grace that the heart of man can
imagine, and withal, that remission of sins is joined to confession, and
salvation to faith, herein the wisdom of God triumphs, for what way is it
possible to declare that freedom of grace, to the sensible conviction of a
sinner, and so to demonstrate it to all men’s consciences, except by
making them return within, to see their own absolute unworthiness,
vileness, and incorrespondency to such mercies, and so drawing an
acknowledgment of his grace from the mouths and consciences of all? How
shall a soul know that rich superabundant grace, if he know not the
abundance of his sins? How shall he profess the one, except he withal
confess the other? Let us imagine an impenitent sinner, continuing in
rebellion, pardoned and forgiven: and is there any thing more contrary to
common sense and reason, to be in God’s favour, and yet not accepting that
favour, to be a friend, and yet an enemy, to have sins forgiven, and yet
not known, not confessed? These, I say, sound some plain dissonancy and
discord to our very first apprehensions. Certainly, this is the way to
declare the glory of his grace, in the hiding and covering of sin, even to
discover sin to the sinner, else if God should hide sin, and it be hid
withal from the conscience, both thy sin and God’s grace should be hid and
covered, neither the one nor the other would appear. Take it thus
then,—the confession of sin is not for this end, to have any casual
influence upon thy remission, or to procure any more favour and liking
with God, but it is simply this, the confession of sin is the most
accommodate way of the profession and publication of the grace of God in
the forgiving of sins. Faith and repentance are not set down as conditions
pre-required on thy part, that may procure salvation or forgiveness, but
they are inseparably annexed unto salvation and forgiveness, to the end
that they may manifest to our sensible conviction, that grace and freedom
of grace which shines in forgiveness and salvation.
“He is just and faithful,” &c. Herein is the wonder of the grace of God
increased, that when we are under an obligation to infinite punishment for
sin, and bound guilty before his justice, that the “most great and potent
Lord” who can easily rid himself of all his enemies, and do all his
pleasure in heaven and earth, should come under an obligation to man to
forgive him his sins. A strange exchange! Man is standing bound by the
cords of his own sins over the justice of God,—he is under that insoluble
tie of guiltiness. God in the meantime is free, and loosed from the
obligation of the first covenant, that is, his promise of giving life to
man. We have loosed him from that voluntary engagement, and are bound
under a curse. And yet, behold the permutation of grace,—man is loosed
from sin, to which he is bound, and God is bound to forgive sin, to which
he was not bound. He enters into a new and voluntary engagement by his
promise, and gives right to poor creatures to sue and seek forgiveness of
him, according to his faithfulness. Yet in this plea, as it becomes us to
use confidence, because he gives us ground by his promises, so we should
season it with humility, knowing how infinitely free and voluntary his
condescension is, being always mindful, that he may in righteousness exact
punishment of us for sin, rather than we seek forgiveness from him. And
yet seek it we ought, because he hath engaged his faithful promise, which
opportunity to neglect, and not to improve, either through fear or
security, were as high contempt and disobedience to him, as those sins by
which we offend him.
Certainly, the very name of God, revealed to us or known by nature’s
light, those general characters of his name, mercy and goodness, power and
greatness, might suffice to so much, as to make us, in the apprehensions
of our own guiltiness and provocations of his holiness, to look no other
way than to his own merciful and gracious nature. Suppose we had nothing
of a promise from him, by which he is bound, yet, as the very apprehension
of the general goodness, and unlimited bounty, and original happiness that
is in God, ought naturally to draw the creature towards him in all its
wants, to supplicate his fulness, that can supply all necessities, without
lessening his own abundance, even so, if we did only apprehend that God is
the fountain of mercy, and that he is infinitely above us and our
injuries, and that all our being and well being eternally consists in his
sole favour, this, I say, alone considered, might draw us to a pouring out
our hearts before him, in the acknowledgment of our guiltiness, and
casting ourselves upon his mercy, as the term is used in war, when there
is no quarter promised, and no capitulation made. It is the last refuge
of a desperate sinner, to render unto God upon mercy, to resign himself to
his free disposal. Since I cannot but perish, may a soul say, without
him, there is no way of escaping from his wrath, I will rather venture,
and “go in to the King, and if I perish, I perish.” There is more hope in
this way to come to him, than to flee from him. Perhaps he may show an
act of absolute sovereign goodness, and be as glorious in passing by an
offence, as just in punishing it. Do I not see in man, in whom the divine
Majesty hath imprinted some characters of conscience and honesty, that it
is more generous and noble to forgive than to revenge? And do I not see
generally among men, clemency and compassion are commended above severity
and rigour, though just, especially towards those who are inferior, weak,
unable to resist, and have yielded themselves to mercy. Now, shall I not
much more apprehend that of God which I admire in a sinful man? Shall not
that be most perfect in him which is but a maimed and broken piece of his
image in lost man? Certainly, it is the glory of God to conceal an
offence as well as to publish it, and he can show as much greatness and
majesty in mercy as in justice, therefore I will wholly commit myself to
him. I think a man ought to reason so, from the very natural knowledge he
hath of God. But when ye have not only his name and nature published, but
his word and promise so often proclaimed, himself come under some tie to
receive and accept graciously all sinners that fly in under the shadow of
his wings of mercy, then, O with how much persuasion and boldness should
we come to him, and lay open our sins before him, who not only may pardon
them, and not only is likely to do it, seeing he hath a gracious nature,
but certainly will pardon them, cannot but do it, because his faithfulness
requireth it! Certainly, he hath superadded his word to his name, his
promise to his nature, to confirm our faith, and give us ample ground of
strong consolation.
There is another more suitable notion about the justice of God, in
forgiving sin. It hath some truth in the thing itself, but whether it be
imported here, I dare not certainly affirm. Some take his faithfulness in
relation to his word of promise, and his justice in relation to the price
and ransom paid by Christ, importing as much as this—whatever sinner comes
to God in Christ, confessing his own guiltiness in sincerity, and
supplicating for pardon, he cannot in justice refuse to give it out unto
them, since he hath taken complete satisfaction of Christ. When a sinner
seeks a discharge of all sin, by virtue of that blood, the Lord is bound
by his own justice to give it out and to write a free remission to them,
since he is fully paid, he cannot but discharge us, and cancel our bonds.
So then a poor sinner that desires mercy, and would forsake sin, hath a
twofold ground to suit(247) this forgiveness upon—Christ’s blood, and
God’s own word, Christ’s purchase and payment, and the Father’s promise,
he is just and righteous, and therefore he cannot deny the one, nor yet
take two satisfactions, two payments for one debt, and he is faithful, so
he cannot but stand to the other, that is, his promise, and thus is
forgiveness ascertained and assured unto the confessing sinner. If any
would take this in relation to confession, as if it reflected upon that
which preceded, and the meaning should be, if any man confess his sin, he
is just to requite confession with remission,—he cannot in righteousness
deny one that deserves it, he is just to return some suitable recompense
to such a humble confession, this sense were a perverting of the whole
gospel, and would overturn the foundations of grace. For there is no
connection between our confession and his remission but that which the
absolute good pleasure of his will hath made, besides, that repentance is
as free grace given from the exalted Prince, as remission of sins is.
Sermon XIX.
1 John i. 9, 10.—“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just
to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all
unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a
liar,” &c.
And who will not confess their sin, say you? Who doth not confess sins
daily, and, therefore, who is not forgiven and pardoned? But stay, and
consider the matter again. Take not this upon your first light
apprehensions, which in religion are commonly empty, vain, and
superficial, but search the scriptures, and your own hearts that ye may
know what confession means. It may be said of that external custom of
confession that many of you have, that the Lord hath not required
it,—“sacrifices and burnt offerings thou wouldest not.” Some external
submissions and confessions, which you take for compensation for sins and
offences against God,—these, I say, are but abomination to the Lord, but
“a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise,” Psal. li.
16, 17. And, “Lo, I come to do thy will, I delight in it,” Psal. xl. 7, 8.
When external profession and confessions are separated from the internal
contrition of the heart and godly sorrow for sin, and when both internal
contrition and external profession and confession are divided from
conformity, or study of conformity to God’s will, then they are in no
better acceptance with God than those external sacrifices which God
rejected, though he had required them, because they were disjoined from
the true life of them and spiritual meaning, that is, faith in a mediator,
and love to obedience. If confession flow not from some contrition of
heart if there be not some inward spring of this kind, the heart, opened
and unfolding its very inside before God, breaking in pieces, which makes
both pain or sense, and likewise gives the clearer view of the inward
parts of the heart, and if it be not joined with affection to God’s will
and law, earnest love to new obedience, it is but a vain, empty, and
counterfeit confession, that denies itself. I suppose, a man that
confesses sin which he feels not, or forsakes not, in so doing, he
declares that he knows not the nature of sin; he may know that such an
action is commonly called sin, and, it may be, is ashamed and censured
among men, and therefore he confesseth it; but while he confesseth it
without sense or feeling, he declares that he takes it not up as sin, hath
not found the vileness and loathsomeness of the nature of it nor beheld it
as it is a violation of the most high Lord’s laws, and a provocation of
his glorious holiness. Did a soul view it thus, as it is represented in
God’s sight, as it dishonours that glorious Majesty, and hath manifest
rebellion in it against him, and as it defiles and pollutes our spirits;
he could not, I say, thus look upon it, but he would find some inward soul
abhorrence and displeasance at it, and himself too. How monstrous would it
make him in his own sight? It could not but affect the heart, and humble
it in secret before God; whereas your forced and strained confessions made
in public, they are merely taken on then, and proceed from no inward
principle. There is no shadow of any soul humiliation, in secret, but as
some use to put on sackcloth when they come to make that profession, and
put it off when they go out, so you put on a habit of confession in
public, and put it off you when you go out of the congregation. To be
mourning before the Lord, in your secret retirements,—that you are
strangers to. But I wonder how you should thus mock God, that you will not
be as serious and real in confessing as in sinning. Will you sin with the
whole man, and confess only with the mouth? Will ye not sin with delight,
and not confess it with a true sorrow that indeed affects the heart? Now,
do you honour God by confessing, when the manner of it declares, that you
feel not the bitterness of sin, and conceive not the holiness and
righteousness of God, whom you have to do withal? Even so, when you
confess sin, which you do not forsake, you in so far declare that you know
not sin, what it is you confess, and so, that you have mocked him who will
not be mocked; for, what a mockery is it, to confess those faults which we
have no solid effectual purpose to reform, to vomit up your sins by
confession, that we may with more desire and lust lick up the vomit again,
and to pretend to wash, for nothing else, but to return to the puddle, and
defile again! My brethren, out of the same fountain comes not bitter water
and sweet; James iii. 11. Since that which ordinarily proceeds from you is
bitter, unsavoury to God and man, carnal, earthly, and sensual, your ways
are a displayed banner against God’s will, then lay your account, all your
professions and acknowledgments are of the same nature,—they are but a
little more sugared over, and their inward nature is not changed, is as
unacceptable to God, as your sins are.
I would give you some characters out of the text, to discover unto you the
vanity and emptiness of your ordinary confessions. The confession of sin
must be particular, universal, perpetual, or constant;—particular, I say,
for there are many thousands who confess that they are sinners, and yet do
not at all confess their sins; for, to confess sins is to confess their
own real actual guiltiness, that which they indeed have committed or are
inclined to do. So the true and sincere confession of a repenting people
is expressed, 1 Kings viii. 38, “What prayer or supplication soever be
made by any man, which shall know the plague of his own heart, and spread
forth his hands, then hear thou in heaven, and forgive every man whose
heart thou knowest.” Now consider whether or not you be thus acquainted
with your own hearts and ways, as to know your particular plague and
predominant sin. Are you not rather wholly strangers to yourselves,
especially the plague of your hearts? There are few that keep so much as a
record or register of their actions done against God’s law, or their
neglect of his will; and therefore, when you are particularly posed about
your sins, or the challenge of sin, you can speak nothing to that, but
that you never knew one sin by another; that is, indeed, you never
observed your sins, you never knew any sin, but contented yourself with
the tradition you received that you were sinners. But if any man be used
to reflect upon his own ways,—yet generally, the most part of men are
altogether strangers to their hearts,—if they know any evil of themselves
it is at most but something done or undone, some commission or omission,
but nothing of the inward fountain of sin is discovered. I beseech you,
then, do not deceive yourselves with this general acknowledgment that you
are sinners, while in the meantime your real particular sins are hid from
you, and you cannot choose but hide in a generality from God. Certainly,
you are far from forgiveness, and that blessedness of which David speaks,
(Psal. xxxii.) for this belongs to the man “that hideth not his sins, in
whose heart there is no guile.” And this is the plainness and sincerity of
the heart, rightly to discern its own plagues, and unfold them to him.
David, no doubt, would at any time have confessed that he was a sinner,
but mark how heavy the wrath of God was on him for all that, because he
came not to a plain, ingenuous, and humble acknowledgment of his
particular sins. “I confessed my sin, and mine iniquity I hid not.” While
you confess only in general terms, you confess other’s sins rather than
yours, but this is it—to descend into our own hearts, and find out our
just and true accusation, our real debt, to charge ourselves as narrowly
as we can, that he may discharge us fully, and forgive us freely.
Next, I say, confession must be universal, that is, of all sin, without
partiality or respect to any sin. I doubt if a man can truly repent of any
sin, except he in a manner repent of all sin; or truly forsake one sin,
except there be a divorcement of the heart from and forsaking of all sin;
therefore the apostle saith, “If we confess our sins,” not sin simply, but
sins, taking in all the body and collection of them, for it is opposed to
that, “if we say we have no sin,” &c. Then there lies a necessity upon us
to confess what we have; we have all sin, and so should confess all sins.
Now, my meaning is not, that it is absolutely necessary that a soul come
to the particular knowledge and acknowledgment of all his sins, whether of
ignorance or infirmity, nay, that is not possible, for “who can understand
his errors?” saith David, “cleanse thou me from secret sins,” Psal. xix.
12. There are many sins of ignorance, that we know not to be sins, and
many escapes of infirmity, that we do not advert to, which otherwise we
might know. Now, I do not impose that burden on a soul, to confess every
individual sin of that kind; but this certainly must be,—there must be
such a discovery of the nature of sin, and the loathsomeness of it in
God’s sight, and the heinous guilt of it, as may abase and humble the soul
in his presence, there must be some distincter and clearer view of the
dispositions and lusts of the heart, than men attain generally unto, and,
withal, a discovery of the holy and spiritual meaning of God’s law, which
may unfold a multitude of transgressions, that are hid from the world, and
make sin to abound in a man’s sight and sense—for when the law enters, sin
abounds, and to close up this, as there are many sins now discovered unto
such a soul, which lay hid before, the light having shined in upon the
darkness, and, above all, the desperate wickedness of the heart is
presented, so there is no sin known and discerned, but there is an equal
impartial sorrow for it, and indignation against it. As a believer hath
respect to all God’s commands, and loves to obey them, so the penitent
soul hath an impartial hatred of all sin, even the dearest and most
beloved idol, and desires unfeignedly to be rid of it. Hence your usual
public confessions of sin are wiped out of the number of true and sincere
confessions, because you pretend to repent of one sin, and in the
meantime, neither do ye know a multitude of other sins that prevail over
you, nor do you mourn for them, nor forsake them. Nay, you do not examine
yourselves that way, to find out the temper of your hearts, or tenor and
course of your ways. You pretend to repent for drunkenness, or such like,
and yet you are ordinary cursers, swearers, liars, railers, neglecters of
prayer, profaners of the Sabbath, and such like, and these you do not
withal mourn for. In sum, he that mourns only for the sin that men
censure, knoweth and confesseth no sin sincerely. If you would indeed
return unto God from some gross evils, you must be divorced in your
affections from all sin.
Then this confession should be perpetuated and continued as long as we are
in this life, for that is imported by comparing this verse with those it
stands between. “If we say we have no sin, if we say at any time, while we
are in this life, if we imagine or dream of any such perfection here,” we
lie. Now, what should we do then, since sin is always lodging in our
mortal bodies, during this time of necessary abode beside an ill
neighbour? What should be our exercise? Even this,—confess your sins,
confess, I say, as long as you have them, draw out this the length of
that. Be continually groaning to him under that body of death, and
mourning under your daily infirmities and failings. That stream of
corruption runs continually—let the stream of your contrition and
confession run as incessantly, and there is another stream of Christ’s
blood, that runs constantly too, to cleanse you. Now, herein is the
discovery of the vanity and deceitfulness of many of your confessions,
public and private, the current of them soon dries up, there is no
perpetuity or constancy in them, no daily humbling or abasing yourselves,
but all that is, is by fits and starts upon some transient convictions or
outward censures and rebukes, and thus men quickly cover and bury their
sins in oblivion and security and forget what manner of persons they were.
They are not under a duly impartial examination of their ways, take notice
of nothing but some solemn and gross escapes, and these are but a short
time under their view.
Now, let me apply a little to the encouragement of poor souls, who being
inwardly burdened with the weight of their own guiltiness, exoner
themselves by confession in his bosom. As you have two suits, and two
desires to him,—one, that your sins may be forgiven, another, that they
may be subdued, so he hath two solemn engagements and ties to satisfy
you,—one to forgive your sins, and another to cleanse you from all
unrighteousness. The soul that is truly penitent, is not only desirous of
pardon of sin—that is not the chief or only design of such a soul in
application to Christ,—but it is withal to be purified from sin and all
unrighteousness, and to have ungodly lusts cleansed away. And herein is
the great application of such an one’s reality,—it will not suffice or
satisfy such an one, to be assured of delivery from wrath and
condemnation, but he must likewise be redeemed from sin, that it hath no
dominion over him. He desires to be freed from death, that he may have his
conscience withal purged “from dead works to serve the living God,” Heb.
ix. 14. He would have sin blotted out of an accusing conscience, that it
may be purged out of the affections of the heart, and he would have his
sins washed away, for this end especially, that he may be washed from his
sins, Rev. i. 5. Now, as this is the great desire and design of such a
heart, in which there is no guile, to have sin purified and purged out of
us as well as pardoned, so there is a special tie and obligation upon God
our Father, by promise, not only to pardon sin, but to purge from sin, not
only to cover it with the garment of Christ’s righteousness, and the
breadth of his infinite love but also to cleanse it by his Spirit
effectually applying that blood to the purifying of the heart. Now, where
God hath bound himself voluntarily, and out of love, do not ye lose him by
unbelief, for that will bind you into a prison: but labour to receive
those gracious promises, and to take him bound as he offers. Believe, I
say that he will both forgive you, and in due time will cleanse your heart
from the love and delight of sin. Believe his promise, and engagement by
promise to both and this will set a seal to his truth and faithfulness.
There is nothing in God to affright a sinner, but his justice, holiness,
and righteousness, but unto thee who, in the humble confession of thy
sins, fliest into Jesus Christ, that very thing which did discourage thee,
may now encourage and embolden thee to come, for “he is just and faithful
to forgive sins.” His justice being now satisfied, is engaged that way to
forgive, not to punish.
Sermon XX.
1 John i. 10.—“If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a
liar, and his word is not in us.”
There is nothing in which religion more consists than in the true and
unfeigned knowledge of ourselves. The heathens supposed that sentence,
γνωθι σεατον “Know thyself,” descended from heaven. It was indeed the
motto of the wisest and most religious amongst them. But certain it is,
that the true and sincere understanding of ourselves descends from “the
Father of lights,” and is as great a gift as man is capable of, next to
the knowledge of God himself. There is nothing more necessary to man,
either as a man or as a Christian, either as endowed with reason or
professing religion, than that he should be thoroughly acquainted with
himself, his own heart, its dispositions, inclinations, and lusts, his
ways and actions, that while he travels abroad to other creatures and
countries, he may not commit so shameful an absurdity, as to be a stranger
at home, where he ought to be best acquainted. Yet how sad is it, that
this which is so absolutely needful and universally profitable, should be
lying under the manyest difficulties in the attainment of it? So that
there is nothing harder, than to bring a man to a perfect understanding of
himself:—what a vile, haughty, and base creature he is—how defiled and
desperately wicked his nature—how abominable his actions, in a word, what
a compound of darkness and wickedness he is—a heap of defiled dust, and a
mass of confusion—a sink of impiety and iniquity, even the best of
mankind, those of the rarest and most refined extraction, take them at
their best estate. Thus they are as sepulchres painted without, and
putrified within—outwardly adorned, and within all full of rottenness and
corruption, “the imagination of his heart only evil continually.” Now, I
say, here is the great business and labour of religion,—to bring a man to
the clear discerning of his own nature,—to represent unto him justly his
own image, as it is painted in the word of God, and presented in the glass
of the law, and so by such a surprising monstrous appearance, to affect
his heart to self abhorrency in dust and ashes and to have this
representation, however unpleasant, yet most profitable, continually
observant to our minds, that we may not forget what manner of persons we
are. Truly I may say, if there be a perfection in this estate of
imperfection, herein it consists, and if there be any attainment of a
Christian, I account this the greatest,—to be truly sensible of himself,
and vile in his own eyes.
It was the custom of Philip,(248) king of Macedonia, after he had overcome
the famous republic of Greece, to have a young man to salute him first
every morning with these words, _Philippe homo es_,—Philip, thou art a
man, to the end that he might be daily minded of his mortality, and the
unconstancy of human affairs, lest he should be puffed up with his
victory, and this was done before any could have access to speak with him,
as if it were to season and prepare him for the actions of the day. But O
how much more ought a Christian to train up his own heart and accustom it
this way, to be his continual remembrancer of himself, to suggest
continually to his mind, and whisper this first into his ear in the
morning, and mid day, and evening,—_peccator es_, thou art a sinner, to
hold our own image continually before us, in prayer and praises, in
restraints, in liberties of spirit, in religious actions, and in all our
ordinary conversation, that it might salt and season all our thoughts,
words and deeds, and keep them from that ordinary putrefaction and
corruption of pride and self conceit, which maketh all our ointment stink.
“If we say we have no sin, we make him a liar.” Why is this repeated
again, but to show unto us, even to you Christians who believe in Christ,
and are washed in his blood, how hard it is to know ourselves aright? If
we speak of the grosser sort of persons, they scarce know any sin, nor the
nature and vileness of any that they know, therefore they live in security
and peace, and bless themselves in their own hearts, as if they had no
sin. For such, I say, I shall only say unto them, that your self deceiving
is not so subtile, but it may soon be discerned; your lie is gross, and
quickly seen through. But I would turn myself to you Christians, who are
in some measure acquainted with yourselves, yet there is something against
you from this word. After ye have once got some peace from the challenge
of sin, and hope of pardon, you many times fall out of acquaintance with
yourselves. Having attained, by the Lord’s grace, to some restraint of the
more visible outbreakings of sin, you have not that occasion to know
yourselves by, and so you remain strangers to your hearts, and fall into
better liking with yourselves, than the first sight of yourselves
permitted you. Now, my beloved in the Lord, herein you are to be blamed,
that you do not rather go to the fountain, and there behold the streams,
than only to behold the fountain in the streams. You ought rather, upon
the Lord’s testimony of man, to believe what is in you, before you find
it, and see it breaking out; and keep this character continually in your
sight, which will be more powerful to humble you than many outbreakings. I
think we should be so well acquainted with our own natures, as to account
nothing strange to them that we see abroad, but rather think all the
grossness and wickedness of men suitable and correspondent to our
spirits,—to that root of bitterness that is in them. The goodness of God
in restraining the appearance of that in us, which is within us in
reality, should rather increase the sense of our own wickedness, than
diminish it in our view.
Indeed, self love is that which blinds us, and bemists us in the sight of
ourselves. We look upon ourselves through this false medium, and it
represents all things more beautiful than they are, and therefore the
apostle hath reason to say, “We deceive ourselves, and we make God a
liar.” O how much practical self-conceit is there in the application of
truth! There are many errors contrary to the truths themselves, and many
deceivers and deceived, who spread them, but I believe there are more
errors committed by men in the application of truths to their own hearts,
than in the contemplation of them, and more self deceiving than deceiving
of others. It is strange to think, how sound, and clear, and distinct a
man’s judgment will be against those evils in others, which yet he seeth
not in himself, how many Christians will be able to decipher the nature of
some vices, and unbowel the evils of them, and be quick-sighted to espy
the least appearance of them in another, and to condemn it, and yet so
partial are they in judging themselves,—self-love so purblinds them in
this reflection, that they cannot discern that in themselves, which others
cannot but discern! How often do men declaim against pride, and
covetousness, and self-seeking, and other evils of that kind? They will
pour out a flood of eloquence and zeal against them, and yet it is strange
they do not advert, that they are accusing themselves, and impannelling
themselves in such discourses, though others, it may be, will easily
perceive a predominancy of these evils in them. “Who art thou, O man, who
judgeth another, and doest the same thing? Canst thou escape God’s
judgment?” Rom. ii. 1. Consider this, O Christian, that thou mayest learn
to turn the edge of all thy censures and convictions against thyself, that
thou mayest prevent all men’s judgments of thee, in judging thyself all
things that men can judge thee, that is, a chief of sinners, that hath the
root of all sin in thee, and so thou mayest anticipate the divine judgment
too, “for if we judge ourselves, we shall not be judged.” Labour thou to
know those evils that are incident to thy nature, before others can know
them, that is, in the root and fountain, before they come to the fruit and
stream, to know sins in the first conceptions of them, before they come to
such productions as are visible, and this shall keep thee humble, and
preserve thee from much sin, and thou shalt not deceive thyself, nor
dishonour God, in making him a liar, but rather set to thy seal to this
truth, and his word shall abide in thee.
There is a common rule that we have in judging ourselves, by comparing
ourselves amongst ourselves, which, as Paul saith, “is not wisdom,” 2 Cor.
x. 12. When we do not measure ourselves by the perfect rule of God’s holy
word, but parallel ourselves with other persons, who are still defective
from the rule, far further from it than anyone is from another, this is
the ordinary method of the judging of self love. We compare with the worst
persons, and if we be not so bad as they, we think ourselves good. If not
so ignorant as some are, we presume that we know, if not so profane as
many, we believe ourselves religious. “Lord, I am not as this publican,”
so say many in their hearts,—there is a curser, a swearer, a drunkard, a
blind ignorant soul, that neglects prayer in private and public, and upon
these ruins of others’ sins, they build some better estimation of
themselves. But, I pray you, what will that avail you, to be unlike them,
if you be more unlike your pattern than they are unlike you? It must be,
others will compare with those that are good, but it is with that which is
worst in them, and not that which is best. How often do men reckon this
way,—here is a good man, here is an eminent person, yet he is such and
such, subject to such infirmities, and here self-love flatters itself,
and, by flattering, deceives itself. My beloved, let us learn to establish
a more perfect rule, which may show all our imperfections. Let our rule
ascend, that our hearts may descend in humility. But when our role and
pattern descends to men of like infirmities, then our pride and self
conceit ascends, and the higher we be that way in our own account, the
lower we are indeed, and in God’s account, and the lower we be in
ourselves we lose nothing by it; for, as God is higher in our account, so
we are higher in God’s account, according to that standing rule, Matth.
xxiii. 12, “Whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased, and he that
shall humble himself shall be exalted.”
Sermon XXI.
1 John ii. 1.—“My little children, these things write I unto you,
that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the
Father,” &c.
The gospel is an entire uniform piece, all the parts of it are interwoven
through other, and interchangeably knit together, so that there can be no
dividing of it any more than of Christ’s coat that was without seam. If
you have it not altogether by the divine lot, you cannot truly have any
part of it, for they are so knit together, that if you disjoin them, you
destroy them, and if they cease to be together, they cease altogether to
be. I speak this, because there may be pretensions to some abstracted
parts of Christianity. One man pretends to faith in Jesus Christ, and
persuasion of pardon of sin, and in this there may be some secret glorying
arising from that confidence, another may pretend to the study of holiness
and obedience, and may endeavour something that way to do known duties,
and abstain from gross sins. Now, I say, if the first do not conjoin the
study of the second, and if the second do not lay down the first as the
foundation, both of them embrace a shadow for the thing itself, because
they separate those things that God hath joined, and so can have no being
but in men’s fancy, when they are not conjoined. He that would pretend to
a righteousness of Christ, without him, must withal study to have the
righteousness of the law fulfilled within him, and he that endeavours to
have holiness within must withal go out of himself, to seek a
righteousness without him, whereupon to build his peace and acceptance
with God, or else, neither of them hath truly any righteousness without
them, to cover them, or holiness within, to cleanse them. Now, here the
beloved apostle shows us this divine contexture of the gospel. The great
and comprehensive end and design of the gospel is, peace in pardon of sin,
and purity from sin. “These things I write unto you, that you sin not,”
&c. The gospel is comprised in commands and promises, both make one web,
and link in together. The immediate end of the command is, “that we sin
not,” nay, but there is another thing always either expressly added, or
tacitly understood—“but if any man sin,” that desires not to sin, “we have
an advocate with the Father.” So the promise comes in as a subsidiary help
to all the precepts. It is annexed to give security to a poor soul from
despair, and therefore the apostle teacheth you a blessed art of
constructing all the commands and exhortations of the gospel, those of the
highest pitch, by supplying the full sense with this happy and seasonable
caution or caveat, “but if any man sin,” &c. Doth that command, “Be ye
holy as I am holy,” perfect as your heavenly Father, which sounds so much
unattainable perfection, and seems to hold forth an inimitable pattern,
doth it, I say, discourage thee? Then, use the apostle’s art, add this
caution to the command, subjoin this sweet exceptive,—“but if any man,”
that desires to be holy, and gives himself to this study, fail often, and
fall and defile himself with unholiness, let him not despair, but know,
that he hath “an advocate with the Father.” If that of Paul’s urge thee,
“present your bodies a living sacrifice,—and be not conformed to the
world,” but transformed, and “glorify God in your bodies and spirits,”
which are his, (Rom. xii. 1, 2, 1 Cor. vi. 20,)—and, cleanse yourselves
“from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit,” (2 Cor. vii. 1,)—and, “walk
in the Spirit,” and “walk as children of the light,” &c.,—if these do too
rigorously exact upon thee, so as to make thee lose thy peace, and weaken
thy heart and hands, learn to make out a full sentence, and fill up the
full sense and meaning of the gospel, according as you see it done here.
But if any man,—whose inward heart-desires, and chief designs are toward
these things, who would think himself happy in holiness and conformity to
God, and estimates his blessedness or misery, from his union or separation
from God,—“sin” then “we have an advocate with the Father, even Jesus
Christ the righteous,” who hath all that we want, and will not suffer any
accusation to fasten upon us, as long as he lives “to make intercession
for us.”
On the other hand, take a view of the promises of the gospel. Though the
immediate and next end of them is to give peace to troubled souls, and
settle us in the high point of our acceptance with God, yet certainly they
have a further end, even purity from sin, as well as pardon of sin,
cleansing from all sin and filthiness as well as covering of filthiness.
“These things I write unto you, that ye sin not.” What things? Consider
what goes before, and what follows after, even the publication of the word
of life, and eternal life in him, the declaration of our fellowship with
God in Christ the offering of the blood of Christ, able to cleanse all
sin, the promise of pardon to the penitent, confession of sin,—all these
things I write, “that ye sin not,” so that this seems to be the ultimate
end and chief design of the gospel, unto which all tends, unto which all
work together. The promises are for peace, and peace is for purity, the
promises are for faith, and faith is for purifying of the heart, and
performing the precepts, so that, all at length returns to this, from
whence, while we swerved, all this misery is come upon us. In the
beginning it was thus,—man was created to glorify God, by obedience to his
blessed will, sin interposeth and marreth the whole frame, and from this
hath a flood of misery flowed in upon us. Well, the gospel comes offering
a Saviour, and forgiveness in him. Thus peace is purchased, pardon
granted, the soul is restored unto its primitive condition and state of
subordination to God’s will, and so redemption ends where creation began,
or rather in a more perfect frame of the same kind. The second Adam builds
what the first Adam broke down, and the Son re-creates what the Father in
the beginning created, yea, with some addition. In this new edition of
mankind, all seems new—“new heavens, and new earth,” and that because the
creature that was made old, and defiled with sin, is made new by grace.
Now, hence you may learn the second part of this lesson that the apostle
teaches us; as ye ought to correct, as it were, precepts of the gospel, by
subjoining promises in this manner, so ye ought to direct promises towards
the performance of his precepts, as their chief end. Whensoever you read
it written, “The blood of Christ cleanseth us from all sin,”—“If we
confess, he is faithful to forgive our sins,”—“God so loved the world that
he gave his Son,”—“He that believeth hath everlasting life,” &c.—then make
up the entire sense and meaning after this manner, “These things are
written that we sin not.” Is there a redemption from wrath published? Is
there reconciliation with God preached? And are we beseeched to come and
have the benefit of them? Then say, and supply within thine own heart,
These things are written, published, and preached, that we may not sin.
Look to the furthest end of these things, it is, “that we sin not.” The
end of things, the scope of writings, and the purpose of actions, is the
very measure of them, and so that is the best interpreter of them. The
scope of scripture is by all accounted the very thread that will lead a
man right in and out of the labyrinths that are in it. And so it is used
as the rule of the interpretation in the parts of it. Now, my beloved in
the Lord, take here the scope of the whole scriptures, the mark that all
the gospel shoots at, “These things I write unto you, that ye sin not.”
You hear, it is true, of pardon of sin, of delivery from wrath, of not
coming into condemnation, of covering offences, of blotting them out as a
cloud, all these you read and hear of, but what do they all aim at? If you
consider not that attentively you shall no more understand the plain
gospel, than you can expound a parable without observing the scope of it.
Do you think these have no further aim, than to give you peace, and to
secure you from fears and terrors, that you may then walk as you list, and
follow the guiding of your own hearts? Nay, if you take it so, you totally
mistake it. If you do not read on, and had all these things written to
this end, “that ye sin not,” you err, not understanding, or
misunderstanding, the scriptures.
“These things I write unto you, little children.” To enforce this the more
sweetly, he useth this affectionate compellation, “little children,” for
in all things affection hath a mighty stroke, almost as much as reason. It
is the most suitable way to prevail with the spirit of a man, to deal in
love and tenderness with it, it speaks more sweetly, and so can have less
resistance, and therefore works more strongly. It is true, another way of
terrors threatening, and reproofs, mingled with sharp and heavy words of
challenges, may make a great deal of more noise, and yet it hath not such
virtue to prevail with a rational soul. The Spirit of the Lord was not in
the wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the still and
calm voice which came to Elijah, 1 Kings xix. 11, 12. These suit not the
gentle, dove-like disposition of the Spirit; and though they be fit to
rend rocks in pieces, yet they cannot truly break hearts, and make them
contrite. The sun will make a man sooner part with his cloak than the
wind, such is the difference between the warm beams of affection, and the
boisterous violence of passions or terror. Now, O that there were such a
spirit in them who preach the gospel, such a fatherly affection, that with
much pity and compassion they might call sinners from the ways of death! O
there is no subject, in which a man may have more room for melting
affections, nothing that will admit of such bowels of compassion as
this—the multitude of souls posting to destruction, and so blindfolded
that they cannot see it! Here the fountain of tears might be opened to run
abundantly. The Lord personates a tender hearted father or husband often,
“Oh, why will ye die? Ye have broken my heart with your whorish heart. O
Jerusalem, how oft would I, but thou wouldst not!” When he, who is not
subject to human passions, expresseth himself thus, how much more doth it
become us poor creatures to have pity on our fellow-creatures? Should it
not press out from us many groans, to see so many perishing, even beside
salvation. I wish you would take it so, that the warning you to flee from
the wrath to come, is the greatest act of favour and love that can be done
to you. It becomes us to be solicitous about you, and declare unto you,
that you will meet with destruction in those paths in which you walk; that
these ways go down to the chambers of death. O that it might be done with
so much feeling compassion of your misery, as the necessity of it
requires! But, why do many of you take it so hard to be thus forewarned,
and have your danger declared unto you? I guess at the reason of it. You
are in a distempter as sick children distempered in a fever, who are not
capable of discerning their parents’ tender affection, when it crosseth
their own inclinations and ways.
Sermon XXII.
1 John ii. 1.—“My little children, these things write I unto you,
that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the
Father,”, &c.
Christ Jesus came by water and by blood, not by water only, but by blood
also, and I add, not by blood only but by water also, chap. v. 6. In sin
there is the guilt binding over to punishment, and there is the filth or
spot that defileth the soul in God’s sight. To take away guilt, nothing so
fit as blood for there is no punishment beyond blood, therefore saith the
apostle, “without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sin,”
Heb. ix. 22, and for the stain and spot, nothing is so suitable as water,
for that is generally appointed for cleansing. And some shadow of this the
heathens had, who had their lustrations in water, and their expiations by
blood,(249) but more significantly and plainly, the Jews, who had their
purifications by sprinkling of water, (Num. viii. 7.) and expiations by
sacrificing of slain beasts. But all these were but evanishing shadows;
now the substance is come, Jesus Christ is come in water and blood; in
water, to cleanse the spots of the soul, to purify it from all filthiness;
and in blood, to satisfy for sin, and remove the punishment. You have both
in these words of the apostle, for he labours to set out unto us the true
Christ, whole and entire, “these things I write unto you, that ye sin
not.” Here is the proper end of the water—and “if any man sin, we have
Christ a propitiation for our sins.” Here is the blood—the end of the
blood is to save us, the end of the water is that we sin not, since we are
saved. He came in the blood of expiation, because we had sinned. He came
in the water of sanctification, that we might not sin. His blood speaks
peace to the soul, and the water subjoins, “but let them not return to
folly.” His blood cries, “behold thou art made whole.” And the water
echoes unto it, “sin no more, lest a worse thing befall thee,” John v. 14.
These two streams of water and blood, which are appointed for purity and
pardon, run intermingled all along, and so the proper effects of them are
interchangeably attributed to either of them; “he hath washed us in his
blood,” (Rev. i. 5; vii. 14.) “and the blood of Christ cleanseth us from
all sin.” Then, certainly, this blood cannot be without water, it is never
separated from it. The proper effect of blood is to cover sin; but because
the water runs in that channel, and is conveyed by the blood thither,
therefore it doth cleanse sin, as well as cover it.
“These things I write unto you, that ye sin not.” This then is the design
of the whole gospel, the great and grand design,—to destroy sin, and save
the sinner. There is a treaty of peace made with the sinner, and “Christ
is the peace-maker.” A tender of life and salvation is made to him, but
there is no treaty, no capitulation or composition with sin; out it must
go, first out of its dominion, then out of its habitation. It must first
lose its power, and then its being in a believer. Yea, this is one of the
chief articles of our peace, not only required of us as our duty, that we
should destroy that which cannot but destroy us; for, if any man will
needs hug and embrace his sins, and cannot part with them, he must needs
die in their embracements, because the council of heaven hath irrevocably
passed a fatal sentence against sin, as the only thing that in all the
creation hath the most perfect opposition to his blessed will, and
contrariety to his holy nature,—but also, and especially, as the great
stipulation and promise upon his part, “to redeem us from all our
iniquities, and purify us to himself, a people zealous of good works;” and
not only to redeem us from hell, and deliver us from wrath, Tit. ii. 14.
He hath undertaken this great work, to compesce (250) this mutiny and
rebellion that was raised up in the creation by sin, else what peace could
be between God and us, as long as his enemy and ours dwelt in our bosom,
and we at peace with it.
Now, take a short view of these things that are written in the preceding
chapter, and you shall see that the harmonious voice of all that is in the
gospel, is this, “that we sin not.” Let me say further, as “these things
are written that we sin not,” so all things are done “that we sin not.”
Take all the whole work of creation, of providence, of redemption,—all of
them speak one language, “that we sin not.” “Day unto day uttereth speech,
and night unto night showeth knowledge: there is no speech or language
where their voice is not heard,” Psalm xix. 2, 3. And, as in that place,
their voice proclaims the glory, majesty, and goodness of God, so they,
with the same sound, proclaim and declare, that we should not sin against
such a God, so great, and so good. All that we see suggests and insinuates
this unto our hearts; all that we hear whispers this unto our ears, “that
we sin not, that he made us, and not we ourselves, and that we are the
very work of his hands.” This speaks our absolute and essential dependence
on him, and therefore proclaims with a loud voice, that sin, which would
cut off this subordination, and loose from this dependence upon his holy
will, is a monstrous, unnatural thing. Take all his mercies towards us,
whether general or particular, the transcendent abundance of his infinite
goodness in the earth, that river of his riches that runs through it, to
water every man, and bring supply to his doors, that infinite variety that
is in heaven and earth, and all of them of equal birth-right with man; yet
by the law of our Maker, a yoke of subjection and service to man is
imposed upon them, so that man is, in a manner, set in the centre of all,
to the end, that all the several qualifications and perfections that are
in every creature, may concentre and meet together in him, and flow
towards him. Look upon all his particular acts of care and favour towards
thee, consider his judgments upon the world, upon the nation, or thine own
person. Put to thine ear, and hear. This is the joint harmonious melody,
this is the proclamation of all, “that we sin not,” that we sin not
against so good a God, and so great a God. That were wickedness, this were
madness. If he wound, it is “that we sin not:” if he heal again, it is
“that we sin not.” Doth he kill? It is “that we sin not!” Doth he make
alive? It is for the same end. Doth he shut up and restrain our liberty,
either by bondage, or sickness, or other afflictions? Why, he means “that
we sin not.” Doth he open again? He means the same thing, “that we sin no
more, lest a worse thing befall us.” Doth he make many to fall in battle,
and turn the fury of that upon us? The voice of it is, that you who are
left behind should “sin no more.” Is there severity towards others, and
towards you clemency? O the loud voice of that is, “sin not!” But alas,
the result of all is, that which is written, Psal. lxxviii.
32.—“Nevertheless they sinned still.” In the midst of so many concurring
testimonies, in the very throng of all the sounds and voices that all the
works of God utter, in the very hearing of these, nevertheless to sin
still, and not to return and inquire early after God,—this is the plague
and judgment of the nation.
But let us return to the words, “these things,” &c. “That which is written
of the word of life, that which was from the beginning, and was manifested
unto us,” that is written “that we sin not:” For, saith this same apostle,
chap. iii. 5, 8, “And ye know that he was manifested to take away our
sins, and in him is no sin;” yea, for this very purpose, saith he, “that
he might destroy the works of the devil.” Now, this is the great business,
that drew the Son out of the Father’s bosom,—to destroy the arch-enemy and
capital rebel, sin, which, as to man, is a work of Satan’s, because it
first entered in man by the devil’s suggestion and counsel. All that
misery and ruin, all those works of darkness and death, that Satan had by
his malice and policy wrought upon and in poor mankind, Jesus was
manifested in the flesh without sin, to destroy and take away sin out of
our flesh, and to abolish and destroy Satan’s work, which he had builded
upon the ruins of God’s work, of the image of God, and to repair and renew
that first blessed work of God in man, Eph. iv. 23, 24.
Now, O how cogent and persuading is this; one so high, come down so low,
one dwelling in inaccessible glory, manifested in the flesh, in the
infirmity and weakness of it, to this very purpose, to repair the
creation, to make up the breaches of it, to destroy sin, and save the
sinner! What force is in this to persuade a soul that truly believes it,
“not to sin!” For, may he think within himself, shall I save that which
Christ came to destroy, shall I entertain and maintain that which he came
to take away, and do what in me lies to frustrate the great end of his
glorious and wonderful descent from heaven? Shall I join hands, and
associate with my lusts, and war for them, “which war against my soul,”
and him that would save my soul? Nay, let us conclude, my beloved,
within our own hearts,—Is the Word and Prince of life manifested from
heaven, and come to mar and unmake that work of Satan, that he may rescue
me from under his tyranny? Then God forbid that I should help Satan to
build up that which my Saviour is casting down, and to make a prison for
myself, and cords to bind me in it for everlasting. Nay, will a believing
soul say, rather let me be a worker together with Christ. Though faintly,
yet I resolve to wrestle with him, to pull down all the strongholds that
Satan keeps in my nature, and so to congratulate and consent to him, who
is the avenger and assertor of my liberty.
Then consider the greatest end and furthest design of the gospel, how it
is inseparably chained and linked into this, “that we sin not.” We are
called to fellowship with the Father and the Son, and herein is his glory
and our happiness. Now, this proclaims with a loud voice, “that we sin
not,” for, what more contrary to that design of union and communion with
God, than to sin, which disunites and discommunicates the soul from God.
The nature of sin you know, is the transgression of his law, and so it is
the very just opposition of the creatures will to the will of him that
made it. Now, how do ye imagine that this can consist with true friendship
and fellowship, which looseth that conjunction of wills and affections,
which is the bond of true friendship, and the ground of fellowship? _Idem
velle atque idem nolle, hæc demum vera amicitia est._(251) The conspiracy
of our desires and delights in one point with God’s, this sweet
coincidency makes our communion, and what communion then can there be with
God, when that which his soul abhors is your delight, and his delight is
not your desire? “What communion hath light with darkness?” Sin is
darkness. All sin but especially sin entertained and maintained, sin that
hath the full consent of the heart, and carrieth the whole man after it,
that is Egyptian darkness, an universal darkness over the soul. This
being interposed between God and the soul, breaks off communion, eclipses
that soul totally. Therefore, my beloved, if you do believe that you are
called unto this high dignity of fellowship with God, and if your souls be
stirred with some holy ambition after it, consider that “these things are
written that ye sin not.” Consider what baseness is in it, for one that
hath such a noble design, as fellowship with the Highest, to debase his
soul so far and so low, as to serve sinful and fleshly lusts. There is a
vileness and wretchedness in the service of sin, that any soul, truly and
nobly principled, cannot but look upon it with indignation, because he can
behold nothing but indignity in it. “Shall I who am a ruler,” saith
Nehemiah, “shall such a man as I flee? and who is there that being as I
am, would flee?” Neh. vi. 11. A Christian hath more reason. Shall such a
man as I, who am born again to such a hope, and called to such a high
dignity, shall I, who aim and aspire so high as fellowship with God,
debase and degrade myself with the vilest servitude? Shall I defile in
that puddle again, till my own clothes abhor me, who aim at so pure and so
holy a society? Shall I yoke in myself with drunkards, liars, swearers,
and other slaves of sin? Shall I rank myself thus, and conform myself to
the world, seeing there is a noble and glorious society to incorporate
with, the King of kings to converse with daily? Alas, what are these worms
that sit on thrones to him? But far more, how base are these companions
in iniquity, your pot companions? &c. And what a vile society is it like
that of the bottomless pit, where devils are linked together in chains?
Sermon XXIII.
1 John ii. 1.—“My little children, these things write I unto you,
that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the
Father,” &c.
In the gospel we have the most perfect provision against both these
extremities, that souls are ready to run upon, the rock of desperate
distrust, and the quicksands of presumptuous wantonness. It may be said
to be a well-ordered covenant in all things, that hath caveated and
cautioned the whole matter of our salvation, in such a way, that there is
neither place for discouragement and downcasting, nor yet room for liberty
in sin. There is no exemption from the obligation of God’s holy law, and
yet there is pardon for the breach of it, and exemption from the curse.
There is no peace, no capitulation with sin, and yet there is peace
concluded with the sinner, who is, by that agreement, bound to fall out
with sin. There is no dispensation for sin, and from the perfection of
holiness, and yet there is an advocation for the sinner, who aims and
studies after it. So that, in sum, the whole gospel is comprised in
this,—“he speaks peace to his saint, but let them not return to folly;
thou art made whole, sin no more.” All that is in the gospel saith this,
“that thou shouldst sin no more.” But because sin is necessarily incident,
therefore all that is in the gospel speaks this further,—though ye be
surprised in sin, yet believe, and this is the round in which a believer
is to walk,—to turn from pardon to purity, and from pollution again to
pardon, for these voices and sounds are interchanged continually. If ye
have sinned, believe in Christ the advocate and sacrifice, and, because ye
have believed, sin not, but if ye be overtaken in sin, yet believe. And as
this is daily renewed, so the soul’s study and endeavour in them, should
be daily renewed too. If ye have sinned, despair not, if ye be pardoned,
yet presume not. After sin there is hope, it is true, because “there is
forgiveness with him,” but after forgiveness, there must be fear to offend
his goodness, for there is forgiveness with him, that he may be feared,
Psal. cxxx. 4 And this is the situation I would desire my soul in,—to be
placed between hope of his mercy and fear of sin, the faith of his favour
and the hatred of sin, which he will not favour, and how happy were a soul
to be confined within these, and kept captive to its true liberty.
I spake a little before, how those fundamental truths that are set down
before, do all aim at this one mark, “that we sin not,” now I proceed.
That declaration what God is, verse 5, is expressly directed to this
purpose and applied, verse 6—“God is light,” and therefore “sin not,” for
sin is darkness, “he is light,” for purity and beauty of holiness, and
perfection of knowledge,—that true light in which is no darkness,—that
unmixed light, all homogeneous to itself,—therefore “sin not,” for that is
a work of the night, and of the darkness, that proceeds from the blindness
and estrangement of your minds, and ignorance of your hearts, and it
cannot but prepare and fit you for those everlasting chains of darkness.
Call God what you will, name all his names, styles, and titles, spell all
the characters of it, and still you may find it written at every one of
them, “sin not.” Is he light? Then sin not. Is he life? Then sin not, for
sin will separate you from his light and life, sin will darken your souls
and kill them. Is he love? Then sin not. “God is love,” saith John, O then
sin not against love! Hatred of any good thing is deformed; but the hatred
of the beautiful image of the original love, that is monstrous. “God is
love,” and in his love is your life and light, then to sin against him is
not simple disobedience, nor is it only grosser rebellion, but it hath
that abominable stain of ingratitude in it. Do you read, that it is
written, “he is holy?” Then sin not, for this is most repugnant to his
holiness,—“his holy eyes cannot see it.” Therefore, if thou wouldst have
him look upon thee with favour, thou must not look upon sin with favour,
or entertain it with delight. Is it written, that he is great and
powerful?—Then sin not—that were madness. Is it written, that he is good
and gracious? Then it is written, that ye sin not, for that were
wickedness, it were an unspeakable folly and madness, to offend so great a
God, that can so easily avenge himself; and it were abominable
perverseness, and wickedness, to sin against so good and gracious a God,
who, though he may avenge himself, yet offers pardon and peace, and
beseecheth us to accept it. Is he just? Then sin not, for “he will not
acquit the wicked nor hold them guiltless,”—them who do acquit themselves,
and yet hold by their sins. And is he merciful? Then, O then, sin not,
because he hath acquitted thee, because he is ready to blot out thy guilt!
Wilt thou sin against mercy that must save thee? Again, is it written,
that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin? That is written,
that ye sin not. It is true, it is written, because ye have sinned
already, that ye may know how it may be pardoned. But, moreover, it is
written, “that ye sin no more,” that so more sin may be prevented, at
least, deliberate continued walking in sin. So that this blood hath a
twofold virtue and use, to be the greatest encouragement to a soul
troubled for sin, and the chiefest argument and inducement for a soul not
to sin. This medicine, or this plaster, hath two notable virtues,
restorative and preservative, to restore the bones that already are
broken, through falling in sin and to preserve our feet from further
falling in sin. It hath a healing virtue for those bruises that are in the
soul, and, besides, it is an anti-hate and sovereign preservative against
the poison and infection of sin and the world. What motive is like this?
The Son of God shed his blood for our sins, they cost a dear price. O how
precious was the ransom! More precious than gold, and silver, and precious
stones, because the redemption of the soul is so precious, that it would
have ceased forever without it. Now, what soul can deliberately think of
this, and receive it with any affection into the heart, but shall find the
most vehement persuasion against sin? He cannot but behold the heinousness
and infinite evil that is in it, which required such an infinite
recompense. And can a soul on that view run to the puddle and defile
again, when he sees how dearly the fountain for cleansing was purchased?
Can a believing heart have such treacherous thoughts harboured within it,
to crucify afresh the Lord of glory, and, as it were, to trample under
feet his blood? No, certainly, he that believes in this blood cannot use
it so dishonourably and basely, as it is written, that he sin not, so he
reads it, and believes it, that he may not sin, as well as because he hath
sinned. Many speak of this blood, and think they apply it to the cleansing
of their sin past, but it is rather that they may sin with more liberty,
as if the end of vomiting up a surfeit of sin were to surfeit more, and
the end of washing, were nothing else but to defile again. Certainly this
blood is not for such souls,—not one word of comfort in the word,—not one
drop of hope in the blood, to those who pretend to believe in Christ’s
blood, and continue in sin, as fresh and lively as ever they did, nothing
abated of their desires or customs. But if we confess our sins, God will
forgive, say you, and this we may do at any time, and this we do daily.
Nay, but saith John, this is “written that you sin not,” not to encourage
you to sin. It is not recorded for this end, that you may live after your
own imaginations and former customs, with security and peace, upon this
presumption, that pardon is easily procurable, if say, “God have mercy
upon me, ere I die.” Do not deceive yourselves, for it is written just for
the contrary, “that you sin no more, and return no more to folly.” If he
had said, if we sin, though we confess yet he is just to punish us, you
would then be driven to desperation, and from that to a desperate
conclusion. Since we must be punished, however, let us not punish
ourselves here, in mortifying our flesh,—“let us eat and drink, for to
morrow we shall die.” Die we must, let us deserve it, for where there is
no hope, there is no help for reformation.
But now, when there is such an unexpected proposal of grace, when God, who
is free to punish us, becomes indebted by his promise to forgive our
debts, we humbly submitting to him, and confessing our guiltiness, this
surprisal of clemency and moderation should, yea, certainly will, overcome
any heart that truly believes it, and conquer it to his love and
obedience. The more easily he forgives sin, the more hardly will a
believing heart be drawn to sin. You know any ingenuous spirit will more
easily be conquered by kindness and condescendency, than severity and
violence. These “cords of love are the bands of a man,” suited to the
nature of men in whom there is any sparkle of ingenuousness remaining. How
often have men been engaged and overcome by clemency and goodness, who
could not be conquered by force of arms? Enemies have been made friends by
this means, such power is in it to knit hearts together. Augustus, when he
was acquainted with the conspiracy of one of his chief minions, Cinna,
whom he had made a friend of an enemy, by kindness and courtesy, takes the
same way to make of a traitor a constant friend. He doth not punish him as
he had done others, but calls for him, and declares unto him his vile
ingratitude, that when he had given him life and liberty, he should
conspire to take away his prince’s life. Well, when he is confounded and
astonished, and cannot open his mouth, saith Augustus, I give thee thy
life again, first an open enemy, and now a traitor, yet from this day, let
an inviolable friendship be bound up between us, and so it proved, for
this way of dealing did totally overcome his heart, and blot out all
seditious thoughts.(252) But, O how incomparably greater is his
condescendency and clemency, whose person is so high and sacred, whose
laws are so just and holy, and we so base and wretched,—to pardon such
infinite guilt, rebellion, and treachery, against such an infinite
majesty, and that, when a soul doth but begin to blush, and be ashamed
with itself, and cannot open its mouth! I say, this rare and unparalleled
goodness and mercy being considered, cannot but tame and daunt the wildest
and most savage natures. Wild beast are not brought into subjection and
tamed, but by gentle usage. It is not fierceness and violence can cure
their fierceness, but meekness and condescendency to follow their humours
and soft dealing with them. As a rod is not bowed by great strength, but
broken, even so those things of the promise of pardon for sin, of the
grace and readiness of God to pardon upon the easiest terms, are written
for this end, that our wild and undaunted natures may be tamed, and may
bow and submit willingly to the yoke of his obedience, and may henceforth
knit such a sacred bond of friendship and fellowship with God, as may
never be broken.
But, say ye, who is he that sins not? Who can say, my heart is pure, and
my way is clean? Who can say, I have no sin? And therefore that cannot be
expected which you crave. Nay, but saith the apostle, “These things I
write unto you, that ye sin not.” Because sin is in all, therefore you
excuse yourselves in your sins, and take liberty to sin. But the very
contrary is the intent of the declaring unto us that we have sin, he shows
that none want it, not that ye may be the more indulgent towards it, but
the more watchful against it. It is not to make you secure, but rather to
give you alarm. Even the best and holiest,—it is an alarm to them, to tell
them that sin is _in confinus_, in their very borders, that the enemy is
even in their quarters, yea, in their bosom. Certainly, this should so
much the more excite us against it, and arm us for it every moment, lest
either by fraud or force, by secret undermining or open violence, it draw
us away from God. This word, “if we say we have no sin, we lie,” is a
watchword given to men, a warning to enter in consideration of themselves,
for the enemy being within, there is no flying from him. We carry him
about with us, and being within, he is less discerned, and therefore we
ought to awake, and so walk circumspectly, with eyes in our head, lest we
be surprised at unawares, either in that time we know not of, or at that
place we least suspect. And to others of you, who have never attained any
victory over your sins, and scarce have a discerning of them, I would only
say this, that the universality of sin’s inhabitation, or being in all
men, even the godly, will not excuse sin’s domination and reign in you. It
is strange, that since the holiest have need of continual watching against
this bosom enemy, that ye who have both little knowledge and strength,
should think ye may live securely, and not trouble yourselves. If they
have need to take heed, how much more have ye, since it is but in them,
but it reigns in you?
Sermon XXIV.
1 John ii. 1.—“And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the
Father,”, &c.
There is here a sad supposition, but too certain, that any man may sin,
yea, that all men will sin, even those who have most communion with God,
and interest in the blood of Christ. Yet they are not altogether exempted
from this fatal lot of mankind. It is incident even to them to sin, and
too frequently incident, but yet we have a happy and sweet provision, for
indemnity from the hazard of sin,—“we have an advocate with the Father.”
Grant the probability, yea, the necessity and certainty of that supposal,
“if any man do sin,” yet there is as much certainty of indemnity from sin,
as of necessity of falling into sin. It is not more sure, that we shall
carry about with us matter of sorrow and mourning, but that it is as sure,
that we have always without us matter of rejoicing.
Let me then speak a word to these particulars. _First_, That sin is
incident to the best, even after all persuasions, convictions,
resolutions, desires, and designs to avoid sin. _Next_, That it is usual
for sins after mercy, convictions, and resolution, to appear so heinous,
that they may seem to overtop the mercy of God, and the merits of Christ,
a soul is most apt to be troubled with guilt contracted after pardon, and
a desire of purity. But withal I would, in the _Last_ place represent to
you, that there is no ground of despair or discouragement for such an one
though there be ground of humiliation and mourning. There is a provision
made in the gospel against these continually incident fears, there is a
security against the hazard of surprising sins, and, this comfort belongs
only to such souls as unfeignedly desire not to sin, and are in some
measure persuaded by the grace of God not to sin, not to those who
willingly give themselves up to their own lusts. It is as common a
doctrine as any, that sin hath some lodging in every man’s heart and
flesh, and is not totally cast out, but only bound with chains within,
that it do not exercise its old dominion over a believer. But I fear, the
most common truths, though they be most substantial in themselves, are yet
but circumstantial in our apprehensions, and very rarely and
extraordinarily have place in the deeper and more serious thoughts of our
hearts. They are commonly confessed, it is true, but as seldom considered,
I am sure. For who did truly ponder the inclineableness of our nature to
sin, the strong propension of the heart to evil, the deceitfulness of sin
itself, and the many circumstantial helps and additions it gets to its
strength, but would stand in awe, and watch seriously over himself. I dare
say, many sin, rather because of a misapprehended immunity from it and a
misreckoning of their own measure and strength, than because of the
strength of sin itself. I know no one thing makes sin so strong as
this,—that we do not apprehend our own weakness, and so give over
watchfulness, which is the greatest and best part of our armour of
defence, when it is done in faith, and this watch kept on the tower of the
Lord’s promises. The apprehension of our escaping the pollutions of the
world, and of some strength to resist them; this adds no more strength to
us, but diminisheth and taketh from our vigilance and so exposeth us, as
it were, naked and secure, to the cruelty of our adversary. I would wish
every Christian to be thoroughly acquainted, and often conversant in two
books of sophistry, I may so term them—the deceitfulness of his own heart,
and the deceivableness of sin, Jer. xvii. and Heb. iii. 13. These are the
volumes he would daily turn over to learn to discern the sophistications,
self flatteries, blindness, darkness, and self love of his own heart, to
take off the deceiving mask of pretences and appearances of good, and
behold sensibly the true and real inclinations of the heart to wickedness,
to passion, pride, uncleanness, malice, envy, and all those affections of
the flesh,—to find out the true beating of the pulse of the heart. And
indeed this just discerning and discovery of the thief in the soul, is a
great part of his arraignment, for if sin be under the view of an eye that
hates it, and loves God, much of its power and virtue, which be in
darkness, is taken away. I press this the more because I verily apprehend
it to be the plague of many Christians, who have some general insight into
the matter of good and evil, and espy some more gross corruption in
themselves, and have some affection to good. Yet this estrangedness to our
own hearts, and the vein or strain of them, the not unbowelling of our
hidden affections, and not discerning of the poison of pride, self love,
love of the world, and such like lusts, which are intermingled in all that
we do, and spread, as it were, universally through the whole man, this, I
say, makes most of us to be subject to so many surprisals by sin. We are
often routed before we draw up, and often conquered ere we consider. This
makes us such unproficients in mortification, so that scarce any sin is
killed, while the roots of all sin lie hid under the ground from us. Then
withal, I desire you to study how deceivable a thing sin is,—how many
deceitful fair pretences it is covered with. It hath the voice of Jacob,
but the hands of Esau. Look, what it is that is pleasant or suitable to
our natural spirits,—it insinuates itself always under the shadow of that,
and if there be not much heedfulness and attention, and much experience of
the wiles of that subtile one, it is a great hazard to be catched with it
unadvisedly, while we clasp about another thing which is presented as a
bait and allurement. Now, is it any wonder that a poor soul be drawn to
sin often, when our enemy doth not for the most part profess hostility,
but friendship, and under that colour pleads admission within our ports?
And, besides, we have a treacherous friend in our bosom, that betrays us
into his hands, that is, our own deceitful hearts. These things I mention
to put you in remembrance of what condition you are in, in this world, and
what posture you should be in. Watch, I say, and when ye have done all,
stand with your loins girt, and though you cannot possibly escape all sin,
yet certainly it is not in vain thus to set against it, and keep a watch
over it, for by this means you shall escape more sin and sin less, as he
that aims at the mark, though he do not hit it, yet shall ordinarily come
nearer it, than he that shoots only at random, and as the army that is
most vigilant and watchful, though they cannot prevent all losses and
hazards, yet commonly are not found at such a loss, as those who are
proud, confident, and secure.
Now, as it is supposed, that sin is ordinarily incident to the child of
God, so it is especially to be caveated, that he despair not in his sins,
for it is imported in this provision, that the believer is in great hazard
upon new lapses into sin, either of daily incursion, or of a grosser
nature, to be discouraged. As there is so much corruption in any man’s
heart, as will turn the grace of God into wantonness, and incline him upon
the proposal of free grace to presume to take liberty to the flesh, so
that same corruption, upon another occasion, works another way, upon the
supposal of new sins, aggravated with preceding mercy and grace in God,
and convictions and resolutions in him, to drive him into despondency and
dejection of spirit, as if there were no pardon for such sins. And indeed,
it is no wonder if the soul be thus set upon, if we set aside the
consideration of the infinite grace of God, that far surpasseth the ill
deserts of men. To speak of the very nature of the thing itself, there is
no sin in its own nature more unpardonable than sin after pardon; nothing
so heinous, aggravated with so many high circumstances, which mingleth it
with the worst ingredients, as this sin, after so much grace revealed in
the gospel, to the end that we may not sin. Sins washed so freely, in so
precious a fountain, and yet to defile again, sins forgiven so readily and
easily, the debt whereof, in justice, the whole creation was not able to
pay, and yet to offend so gracious a Father, a soul being thoroughly
convinced of the vanity, folly, and madness of sin, of the deceitfulness
and baseness of its pleasures, and set in a posture against it, as the
most deadly enemy; and yet, after all this, to be foiled, deceived, and
insnared—here, I say, are very piercing considerations, which cannot but
set the challenge very deep into the heart of a Christian and wound him
sore. How will he be filled with shame and confusion of face if he look
upon God, every look or beam of whose countenance represents unto the soul
the vilest and most abominable visage of sin! Or if he look into himself,
there is nothing but self condemning there. He finds his own conscience
staring him as a thousand witnesses. Thus the soul of a believer being
environed, he is ready to apprehend, that though God should have pardoned
the sins of his ignorance yet that there is more difficulty in this,—to
pardon his returnings to folly, and therefore are some put to harder
exercise, and greater terrors, after conversion, than in the time of it.
The sins of ignorance being, as it were, removed as a cloud, and scored
out in a heap, but the sins of knowledge after mercy, lying more
distinctly and clearly in the view of the soul, it is more difficult to
blot them out of the conscience, and sprinkle the heart from an evil
conscience. These things I speak to you for this reason, that you may be
afraid to sin. I suppose that there is no hazard of eternal damnation by
sin. Grant that you know beforehand, that if you sin, there is yet
forgiveness with him, and there is no hazard of perishing by it, yet, sure
I am, it is the most foolish adventure in the world, to take liberty on
that account, for though there be indemnity that way, as to thy eternal
estate, yet I am persuaded, that there is more damage another way, in thy
spiritual estate in this world, than all the gains of sin can countervail.
There is a necessary loss of peace and joy, and communion of the Holy
Ghost. It is inevitable, in the very ordinary and natural course and
connection of things, but that sin, that way indulged, will eclipse thy
soul, and bring some darkness of sorrow and horror over it. To speak after
the manner of man, and in the way of reason itself, the entertainment of
that which God hates will deprive thee of more solid joy and sweetness in
him, than all the pleasures of sin could afford. Therefore I dare not say
to you, as one too unadvisedly expresseth it, “Fear not, though you do
sin, of any hurt that can come by these sins, for if you sin it shall do
you no hurt at all.”(253) I say, this were indeed but to make you too bold
with sin. I had rather represent unto you, that though ye be secured in
your eternal estate, and there can come no condemnation that way, yet
there is much hurt comes by sin, even in this world, and sure, I think it
a very rational and Christian inducement, to prevail with a Christian not
to sin, to tell him that he shall make a foolish bargain by it, for he
shall lose much more than he can gain. Is there no hurt or loss incident
to men, but eternal perdition? Nay, my beloved, there is a loss Christians
may sustain by sinning freely, which all the combined advantages of sin
cannot compensate. Is not one hour’s communion with God, are not the peace
of your own consciences, and the joy of the Spirit, such inestimable
jewels, that it were more suitable for a man to sell the world, and buy
them, than to sell them, and buy a poor momentary trifling contentment,
which hath a sting in the tail of it, and leaves nothing but vexation
after it? O these bruises in David’s bones, these breaches in his spirit,
that loss of the joy of his salvation! Let these teach you who are escaped
the great hurt of sin, to fear, at least, to be hurt by it this way, more
than ever you can expect to be helped by it.
But then, I desire to add this in the third place, that there is provision
made against the discouragement of those souls that desire not to sin, and
yet sin against their desire. If the challenge I spoke of be written in
thy conscience, as it were with the point of a diamond, deeply engraven,
yet my beloved, consider, that “if any man sin, we have an advocate,” &c.
There is an express caution against thy discouragement. Certainly our
Saviour hath provided for it. Since the case is so incident, and the
supposition so ordinary, it is not conceivable that he hath not caveated
and secured thy salvation in such cases, for he knew certainly before he
pardoned thee, and visited thee at first, that thou wast to be subject
unto this necessary burden of sin, and that it would often times molest
and trouble you, and sometimes prevail over you. All this he knew, that
when he should order your forces, and draw out against sin, with the
greatest desire and resolution, that yet you might be foiled unexpectedly,
and this was not unknown to him, when he showed mercy at first. Therefore,
since his love is unchangeable, and his wisdom, being infinite, saith it
should be so, he would never have cast his love on such persons, if these
things, which were then before him, could make him change. Now, I grant
there is more wonder in the pardon of following sins, than in the first
pardon, and therefore you should still love more, and praise more. But
what is this wonder to the wonder of his grace? It is swallowed up in that
higher wonder, for his thoughts and ways are not like ours, his voice is,
“Return, thou backsliding sinner, to thy first husband, though thou hast
played the harlot.” Therefore, I desire that whatsoever be presented in
that kind, to aggravate your sins, let it humble you more indeed, and make
you hate sin, but let it not hinder you to think as highly of his mercy
and grace, and to set that in the heavens above it.
Sermon XXV.
1 John ii. 1.—“And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the
Father,”, &c.
It is the natural office of the conscience to accuse a man in evil doing.
As every man by sin is liable to the judgment of the supreme court of
heaven, so he is likewise subject to the inferior court of his own
conscience, for the most high God hath a deputy within every man’s breast,
that not only is a witness, but a judge, to fasten an accusation, and
pronounce a sentence upon him according to the law of God. And while it is
so, that a man is accused in both courts, at the supreme tribunal, and the
lower house of a man’s own conscience, when man’s accuser is within him,
and God, his righteous Judge, above him, who can come in to plead such a
man’s cause? A person self condemned, who shall plead for his absolution?
If he cannot but accuse himself, and stop his mouth, being guilty before
God of the transgression of all his law, then what place for an advocate
to accuse him, or defend his cause? And who is it that can enter in the
lists with God, who, because the supreme and highest Judge, must be both
Judge and party? Where shall a daysman be found to lay his hands on both,
and advocate the desperate-like cause of sinners? Truly, here we had been
at an eternal stand, and here had the business stuck for ever, for
anything that the creation could imagine, had not the infinite grace and
wisdom of God opened themselves to mankind, in opening a door of hope to
broken and outlaw sinners. And behold, here is the provision made for the
security and salvation of lost souls,—there is one able and mighty to
save,—a person found out fit for this advocation, who taketh the broken
cause of sinners in hand, and pleads it out, and makes out justice to be
for them, and not against them,—“If any man sin, we have an advocate,” &c.
There is one thing imported, that sin maketh a man liable to a charge and
accusation, and brings him under the hazard of judgment. Indeed it is hard
enough to endure an accusing conscience, and a spirit wounded with the
apprehension of wrath. When our Saviour would express great affliction, he
doth it thus—“A man’s enemies shall be those of his own house.” If a
domestic enemy be so ill, what shall a bosom enemy be, when a man’s
accuser is not only beside him, but within him,—not only in the house with
him, but in the field too,—carried about with him whithersoever he goeth,
so that he can have no retiring or withdrawing place from it! Indeed, some
poor souls make a mad escape from under the challenge of their
consciences, they get away from their keepers to more excess in sin, or
make some vain diversion to company, and other things of the world. But
the end thereof shall be more bitterness, for that will not still sleep
within them, but shall awake upon them with more terror, and one day put
them in such a posture, that all the comforts of the world shall be but as
a drop of water to a man in a burning fever, or as oil to a flame. But, as
I told you, that is not the greatest matter, to be self accused, and
self-condemned, if there were not a higher tribunal, which this process
originally flows from, one greater than the conscience, who speaks to us
in his word, and hath written his charge and sentence against us, and this
is it which sets the soul most on edge, and it is but the very
apprehension of that higher judgment, which is the gall and wormwood, the
poison of those challenges in the conscience. I would desire you to look
upon this, and consider that there is a sentence passed in the word of God
upon all your actions, that the wrath of God is revealed in the scriptures
as due to you, however you may flatter yourselves in your sins, and fancy
an immunity from wrath, though you live in sin. I wish ye were once
persuaded of this,—that all sinners must once appear before God’s tribunal
and hear the righteous sentence of the dueness of punishment pronounced; I
say, all must once appear, either to hear and believe it, or to see it
executed. The wisdom of God requires, that all men’s guilt, which is a
transgression of the law, should once come to a judicial trial and
decision by the law, and either this must be done in your own consciences
here, that ye may sist yourselves before him, and take with your sins, and
humble yourselves in his sight, and then the matter is put over upon a
Mediator, or else you must give him leave, nay he will take leave to cite
you to appear, to see the sentence executed which was pronounced, since ye
would not apply it to your own hearts. O! happy is that soul that
anticipates that great day of final judgment, by a previous self judgment
and self trial. Well, then, hath the scriptures included all under sin,
that all men might be guilty and every mouth stopped before God, Rom. iii.
19. What shall we do then? Since righteousness and justice is against us,
who can plead for us? It would seem that there could be no relaxing, no
repealing, no dispensing with this law at least that if there be anything
of that kind, that righteousness and judgment can have no hand in it. Yet,
behold, what follows, “we have an advocate,” &c. And an advocate’s office
is to sue out the client’s right, from principles of justice. Elsewhere
Christ hath the office of a Judge, here he is an advocate for the party,
and both of these may have a comfortable consideration, John v. 22. “The
Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment to the Son.” And
yet, here we have an advocate with the Father, and that is, with the
Father as judge. These do not cross one another, but make out our abundant
consolation, that one entire office of our Saviour is represented under
all these various notions suited to our capacity. A Judge he is yea, his
tribunal is the highest and supreme, from which there is no appeal, the
ultimate decision lies here of all capital or soul cases and causes. It is
true, the Father doth not wholly divest himself of judgment and authority
in the matters of life and death, for the gospel is his contrivance, as it
was the Son’s, but Christ is, as it were, substituted his vicegerent, in
the administration of the second covenant. You read of a preparatory
tribunal erected in the word by God the Creator, that is, of the law which
condemns us. Now, such is the mercy and grace, and free love of God, that
he hath relaxed that sentence as to the persons. He hath not taken that
advantage which in justice he had against us, but upon some valuable
considerations hath committed to the Son a royal power of prescribing new
laws of life and death, and new terms of salvation, and Christ having, at
his Fathers will, satisfied the law, in what it did threaten us, he is, as
it were, in compensation of such a great service, made Lord and King “both
of the dead and living,” (Rom. xiv. 9,) and “all things in heaven and
earth are given to him,” Matt. xxviii. 18, John xiii. 3. And therefore,
whatever soul is aggrieved under the accusation and charge of the law,
hath liberty, yea, and is called to it, of duty, to appeal unto this new
erected tribunal, where Christ sits to dispense life according to the
terms of grace and he may be sure the Father will not judge him according
to the law, if the Son absolve him in the gospel.
Now, with this it consists, that he who hath all final judgment in his
hand, yet is our advocate in another consideration, as we consider God the
Father sitting upon the tribunal of justice, and proceeding according to
the terms and tenor of his first law, or covenant of life and death. Then
Christ comes in with his advocation for poor sinners, and sustains their
persons, and maintains their cause, even from the principles of justice.
He presents his satisfactory sacrifice and pleads that we are not to be
charged with that punishment that he hath suffered, because he hath indeed
fulfilled our legal righteousness, and by this means the law’s mouth is
stopped, which had stopped our mouth, and the sinner is absolved, who was
found guilty. Thus you see the salvation and absolution of believers is
wonderfully secured, for there is a sentence for it in the court of the
gospel, pronounced by the Son. But lest you think he should usurp such an
absolute power, then hear, that he is an advocate to plead out the equity
and justice of it, before the very tribunal of the law, that the law
itself being the rule, the Father himself, who made the law, being the
Judge, the poor soul that flies unto him as a refuge, may be saved, since
what it craved of us it gets in him, and is as fully satisfied that way,
as it could have been by us. Therefore, that same righteousness which bids
condemn the sinner, commands to save the believer in Christ, though a
sinner. What shall a soul then fear? Who shall condemn? It is Christ that
justifieth, for he is judge of life and death and that is much. But it is
the Father that justifieth, and that is more whatsoever tribunal you may
be cited unto, you may be sure. Is it the gospel? Then the Son is judge.
Is it the law? Then the Son is advocate. He will not only give life
himself, but see that his Father do it, and warrant you from all back
hazards. Nay, before the matter shall misgive, as he comes down from off
the throne, to stand at the bar and plead for sinners, who devolve
themselves upon him, so he will not spare if need require, to degrade
himself further, if I may say so, and of an advocate become a supplicant.
And truly he ceased not in the days of his flesh to pray for us, “with
strong cries and tears,” Heb. v. 7. And now he still lives to make
intercession for us. He can turn from the plea of justice, to the
intercession and supplication of mercy, and if strict justice will not
help him, yet grace and favour he is sure will not disappoint him.
There is a divine contexture of justice and mercy in the business of man’s
redemption, and there is nothing so much declares infinite wisdom, as the
method, order, and frame of it. Mercy might have been showed to sinners,
in gracious and free pardon of their sins, and dispensing with the
punishment due to their persons, yet the Lord’s justice and faithfulness
in that first commination might be wronged and disappointed by it, if no
satisfaction should be made for such infinite offences, if the law were
wholly made void both in the punishment, as also to the person. Therefore
in the infinite depths of God’s wisdom there was a way found out to
declare both mercy and justice, to make both to shine gloriously in this
work, and indeed that is the great wonder of men and angels, such a
conjunction or constellation of divine attributes in one work. And indeed,
it is only the most happy and favourable aspect in which we can behold the
divine Majesty. The Psalmist, Psalm lxxxv., expects much good from this
conjunction of the celestial attributes, and prognosticates salvation to
be near at hand, and all good things, as the immediate effect of it. There
is a meeting there, as it were, of some honourable personages, (ver. 10,
11) such as are in heaven. The meeting is strange, if you consider the
parties,—Mercy and Truth, Righteousness and Peace. If Mercy and Peace had
met thus friendly, it had been less wonder, but it would seem, that
Righteousness and Truth should stand off, or meet only to reason and
dispute the business with Mercy. But here is the wonder,—Mercy and Truth
meet in a friendly manner, and “kiss one another.” There is a perfect
agreement and harmony amongst them, about this matter of our salvation.
There was a kind of parting at man’s fall, but they met again at Christ’s
birth. Here is the uniting principle, “Truth springing out of the earth.”
Because he who is “the truth and the life, was to spring out of the earth
therefore” righteousness will look down from heaven, and countenance the
business, and this will make all of them to meet with a loving salutation.
Now, as this was the contexture of the divine attributes in the business
of redemption, so our Lord and Saviour taketh upon him divers names,
offices, and exercises, different functions for us because he knoweth that
his Father may justly exact of man personal satisfaction, and hath him at
this disadvantage, and that he might have refused to have accepted any
other satisfaction from another person. Therefore he puts on the habit and
form of a supplicant and intercessor for us, and so while he was in the
flesh, he ceased not to offer up “prayers and supplications with strong
cries and tears,” and he is said still “to make intercession for us.” As
he learned obedience, though a Son, so he learned to be a humble
supplicant, though equal with God. Because our claim depends wholly on
grace, he came off the bench, and stood at the bar, not only pleading but
praying for us, entreating favour and mercy to us. And then, he personates
an advocate in another consideration, and pleads upon terms of justice,
that we be pardoned, because his Father once having accepted him in our
stead he gave a satisfaction in value equal to our debt, and performed all
that we were personally bound to. So then you may understand how it is
partly an act of justice, partly an act of mercy, in God to forgive sin to
believers, though indeed mercy and grace is the predominant ingredient,
because love and grace was the very first rise and spring of sending a
Saviour and Redeemer, and so the original of that very purchase and price.
He freely sent his Son, and freely accepted him in our stead, but once
standing in our room justice craves that no more be exacted of us, since
he hath done the business himself.
A sinner stands accused in his own conscience, and before God, therefore,
to the end that we get no wrong, there is a twofold advocate given us, one
in the earth, in our consciences, another in the heavens with God. Christ
is gone up to the highest tribunal, where the cause receives a definitive
sentence, and there he manageth it above, so that though Satan should
obtrude upon a poor soul a wrong sentence in its own conscience, and bring
down a false and counterfeit act, as it were, extracted out of the
register of heaven, whereby to deceive the poor soul, and condemn it in
itself, yet there is no hazard above, he dare not appear there, before the
highest court, for he hath already succumbed on earth. When Christ was
here, the prince of the world was judged and cast out, and so he will
never once put in an accusation into heaven, because he knoweth our
faithful advocate is there, where nothing can pass without his knowledge
and consent. And this is a great comfort, that all inferior sentences in
thy perplexed conscience, which Satan, through violence hath imposed upon
thee, are rescinded above in the highest court, and shall not stand to thy
prejudice, whoever thou be that desirest to forsake sin and come to Jesus
Christ.
But how doth Christ plead? Can he plead us not guilty? Can he excuse or
defend our sins? No, that is not the way. That accusation of the word and
law against us is confessed, is proven, all is undeniably clear, but, he
pleads satisfied, though guilty,—he presents his satisfactory sacrifice
and the savour of that perfumes heaven, and pacifieth all. He shows God’s
bond and discharge of the receipt of the sum of our debt, and thus is he
cleared, and we absolved. Therefore I desire you, whoever you are that are
challenged for sin, and the transgression of the law, if ye would have a
solid way of satisfaction and peace to your consciences, take with your
guiltiness. Plead not “not guilty.” Do not excuse or extenuate, but
aggravate your guilt. Nay, in this you may help Satan, accuse yourselves,
and say that you know more evil in yourselves than he doth and open that
up before God. But in the meantime, consider how it is managed above.
Plead thou also “satisfied in Christ though guilty,” and so thou mayest
say to thy accuser, “If thou hast any thing to object against me, why I
may not be saved, though a sinner, thou must go up to the highest tribunal
to propone it, thou must come before my judge and advocate above, but
forasmuch as thou dost not appear there, it is but a lie, and a murdering
be.”
Now this is the way that the Spirit advocates for us in our consciences,
John xiv. and xv. 26. παρακλετος is rendered here “Advocate,” there
“Comforter.” Both suit well, and may be conjoined in one, and given to
both, for both are comfortable advocates,—Christ with the Father, and the
Spirit with us. Christ is gone above for it, and he sent the Spirit in his
stead. As God hath a deputy judge in man, that is, man’s conscience, so
the Son, our advocate with God, hath a deputy advocate to plead the cause
in our conscience, and this he doth, partly by opening up the Scriptures
to us and making us understand the way of salvation in them, partly
manifesting his own works and God’s gifts in us by a superadded light of
testimony, and partly by comforting us against all outward and inward
sorrows. Sometimes he pleads with the soul against Satan “not guilty,” for
Satan is a slanderous and a false accuser, and cares not _calumniari
fortiter ul aliquid hæreat_, to calumniate stoutly, and he knoweth
something will stick.(254) He will not only object known sins and
transgressions of the law, but his manner is to cast a mist upon the eye
of the soul, and darken all its graces, and then he brings forth his
process, that they have no grace, no faith in Christ, no love to God, no
sorrow for sin. In such a case, it is the Spirit’s office to plead it out
to our consciences, that we are not totally guilty, as we are charged, and
this is not so much a clearing of ourselves, as a vindication of the free
gifts of God, which lie under his aspersion and reproach. Indeed, if there
be a great stress here, and, for wise reasons, the Spirit forbear to plead
out this point, but leave a poor soul to puddle it out alone, and scrape
its evidences together in the dark,—I say, if thou find this too hard for
thee to plead not guilty then my advice is, that ye wave and suspend that
question. Yield it not wholly, but rather have it entire, and do as if it
were not. Suppose that article and point were gained against thee, what
wouldst thou do next? Certainly, thou must say, I would then seek grace
and faith from him who giveth liberally. I would then labour to receive
Christ in the promises. I say, do that now, and thou takest a short and
compendious way to win thy cause, and overcome Satan. Let that be thy
study, and he hath done with it.
But in any challenge about the transgression of the law, or desert of
eternal wrath, the Spirit must not plead “not guilty,” for thou must
confess that, but in as far as he driveth at a further conclusion, to
drive thee away from hope and confidence to despondency of spirit, in so
far the Spirit clears up unto the conscience that this doth nowise follow
from that confession of guiltiness, since there is a Saviour that hath
satisfied for it, and invites all to come, and accept him for their Lord
and Saviour.
Sermon XXVI.
1 John ii. 1.—“We have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ
the righteous.”
There is no settlement to the spirit of a sinner that is once touched with
the sense of his sins, and apprehension of the justice and wrath of God,
but in some clear and distinct understanding of the grounds of consolation
in the gospel, and the method of salvation revealed in it. There is no
solid peace giving answer to the challenges of the law and thy own
conscience, but in the advocation of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sinners.
And therefore the apostle propones it here for the comfort of believers
who are incident to be surprised through the suddenness of sin, and often
deceived by the subtlety of Satan, whose souls’ desires and sincere
endeavours are to be kept from iniquity, and therefore they are made to
groan within themselves, and sometimes sadly to conclude against
themselves, upon the prevailing of sin. Here is the cordial, I say. He
presents to them Jesus Christ standing before the bar of heaven, and
pleading his satisfaction in the name of such souls, and so suiting forth
an exemption and discharge for them from their sins. So he presents us
with the most comfortable aspect, Christ standing between us and justice,
the Mediator interposed between us and the Father, so there can come no
harm to such poor sinners, except it come through his sides first, and no
sentence can pass against them, unless he succumb in his righteous cause
in heaven.
The strength of Christ’s advocation for believers consists partly in his
qualification for the office, partly in the ground and foundation of his
cause. His qualification we have in this verse, the ground and foundation
of his pleading in the next verse, in that “he is the propitiation for our
sins,” and upon this very ground his advocation is both just and
effectual.
Every word holds out some fitness, and therefore every word drops out
consolation to a troubled soul. “With the Father,” speaks out the relation
he and we stand in to the Judge. He hath not to do with an austere and
rigid Judge, that is implacable and unsatisfiable, who will needs adhere
peremptorily to the letter of the law, for then we should be all undone.
If there were not some paternal affection, and fatherly clemency and
moderation in the Judge, if he were not so disposed, as to make some
candid interpretation upon it, and in some manner to relax the sentence,
as to our personal suffering, we could never stand before him, nor needed
any advocate appear for us. But here is the great comfort,—he is Christ’s
Father and our Father, so himself told us, (John xx. 17,) “I go to my
Father and your Father, and my God and your God.” And therefore we may be
persuaded that he will not take advantage, even in that which he hath in
justice, of us, and though we be apprehensive of his anger, in our
failings and offences, and this makes us often to be both afraid and
ashamed to come to him, measuring him after the manner of men, who are
soon angry, and often implacably angry. We imagine that he cannot but
repel and put back our petitions, and therefore we have not the boldness
to offer them, yet he ceaseth not to be our Father and Christ’s Father.
And if ye would have the character of a father, look (Jer. xxxi. 18,) how
he stands affected towards ashamed and confounded Ephraim, how his bowels
move, and his compassions yearn towards him as his pleasant child. The
truth is, in such a case, in which we are captives against our will, and
stumble against our purpose, he pities us as a father doth his children,
knowing that we are but dust and grass, Psal. ciii. 13-17. See the
excellent and sweet application of this relation by the Psalmist—if it
stir him, it stirs up rather the affection of pity, than the passion of
anger. He pities his poor child, when he cries out of violence and
oppression; and therefore, there are great hopes that our advocate Jesus
Christ shall prevail in his suits for us, because he, with whom he
deals,—the Father,—loves him, and loves us, and will not stand upon strict
terms of justice, but rather attemper all with mercy and love. He will
certainly hear his well beloved Son, for in him he is well pleased, his
soul rests and takes complacency in him, and for his sake he adopts us to
be his children, and therefore he will both hear him in our behalf, and
our prayers too, for his name’s sake.
But this is superadded to qualify our advocate,—he is the Christ of God,
anointed for this very purpose, and so hath a fair and lawful calling to
this office. He takes not this honour to himself, but was called thereto
of his Father, Heb. v. 4. As he did not make himself a priest, so he did
not intrude upon the advocateship, “but he that said, Thou art my Son
called him to it.” If a man had never so great ability to plead in the
law, yet, except he be licentiate and graduate, he may not take upon him
to plead a cause. But our Lord Jesus hath both skill and authority, he
hath both the ability and the office, was not a self intruder or usurper,
but the council of heaven did licentiate him, and graduate him for the
whole office of mediatorship: in which there is the greatest stay and
support for a sinking soul, to know that all this frame and fabric of the
gospel was contrived by God the Father, and that he is master builder in
it. Since it is so, there can nothing control it or shake it, since it is
the very will of God, “with whom we have to do,” that a mediator should
stand between him and us, and since he hath such a mind to clear poor
souls, that he freely chooseth and giveth them an able Advocate, it is a
great token that he hath a mind to save as many as come and submit to him
and that he is ready to pardon, when he prepares so fit an Advocate for
us, and hath not left us alone to plead our own cause.
But the anointing of Christ for it, implies both δυναμιν and εξουσιαν
_potentiam et potestatem_, the gifts for it as well as the authority, and
the ability as well as the office, for God hath singularly qualified him
for it,—given him the Spirit above measure, Isa. lxi. 1. He received gifts
not only to distribute to men, but to exercise for men, and their
advantage, Psal. lxviii. 18. And therefore the Father seems to interest
himself in the cause as it were his own. He furnisheth our Advocate as if
it were to plead the cause of his own justice against us, he upholds and
strengthens Christ in our cause, as really as if it were his own, Isa.
xlii. 1, 6, which expresseth to us the admirable harmony and consent of
heaven to the salvation of as many as make Christ their refuge, and desire
not to live in sin. Though they be often foiled, yet there is no hazard of
the failing of their cause above, because our Advocate hath both excellent
skill, and undoubtable authority.
Yea, he is so fully qualified for this that he is called Jesus the
Saviour, he is such an Advocate that he saves all he pleads for. The best
advocate may lose the cause, either through the weakness of itself, or the
iniquity of the judge, but he is the Advocate and the Saviour, that never
succumbed in his undertaking for any soul. Be their sins never so
heinous—their accusation never so just and true—their accuser never so
powerful, yet they who put their cause in his hand, who flee in hither for
refuge being wearied of the bondage of sin and Satan, he hath such a
prevalency with the Father, that their cause cannot miscarry. Even when
justice itself seems to be the opposite party, yet he hath such marvellous
success in his office, that justice shall rather meet amicably with mercy
and peace, and salute them kindly, (Psal. lxxxv. 10, 11,) as being
satisfied by him, that he come short in his undertaking.
But there is another personal qualification needful, or all should be in
vain,—“Jesus the righteous.” If he were not righteous in himself, he had
need of an advocate for himself, and might not plead for sinners, but he
is righteous and holy, no guile found in his mouth, without sin, an
unblameable and unspotted High Priest, else he could not mediate for
others, and such an Advocate too, else he could not plead for others, Heb.
vii. 26. As this perfected his sacrifice, that he offered not for his own
sins, neither needed he, so this completes his advocateship, and gives it
a mighty influence for his poor clients, that he needs not plead for
himself. If, then, the law cannot attach our Lord and Saviour, can lay no
claim to him, or charge against him, then certainly, all that he did
behoved to be for others, and so he stands in a good capacity to plead for
us before the Father, and to sue out a pardon to us, though guilty, for if
the just was delivered for the unjust, and the righteous suffered for the
unrighteous, much more is it consistent with the justice of the Father, to
deliver and save the unrighteous and unjust sinner for the righteous
Advocate’s sake. “If ye seek me, then let these go free,” saith he, John
xviii. 8. So he in effect pleads with God his Father, O Father, if thou
deal with me, the righteous One, as with an unrighteous man, then, in all
reason and justice, thou must deal with my poor clients, though
unrighteous, as with righteous men. If justice thought she did me no
wrong to punish me, the righteous, then let it not be thought a wrong to
justice to pardon, absolve, and justify the unrighteous.
Now, if he be so righteous a person, it follows necessarily, that he hath
a righteous cause, for an honest man will not advocate an unjust cause.
But how can the cause of believers be said to be righteous, when justice
itself, and the law, indicts the accusation against them? Can they plead
not guilty, or he for them? There is a twofold righteousness, in relation
to a twofold rule, a righteousness of strict justice, in relation to the
first covenant, and this cannot be pleaded, that our cause is exactly
conformable to the covenant of works. We cannot, nor Christ in our name,
plead any thing from that, which holds forth nothing but personal
obedience, or else personal satisfaction. But yet our cause may be found
to be righteous, in relation to the second covenant, and the rule and
terms of it, in as far as God hath revealed his acceptance of a surety in
our stead and hath dispensed with the rigour of the law, according to that
new law of grace and righteousness contempered together. The cause of a
desperate lost sinner may be sustained before the righteous Judge, and it
is upon this new account that he pleads for us because he hath satisfied
in our stead, and now it is as righteous and equitable with God, to show
mercy and forgiveness to believing sinners, as it is to reveal wrath and
anger against impenitent sinners.
I know there will be some secret whisperings in your hearts upon the
hearing of this. Oh! it is true, it is a most comfortable thing for them
whose advocate he is. There is no fear of the miscarrying of their cause
above, but as for me, I know not if he be an advocate for me, whether I
may come into that sentence, “We have an advocate,” &c. I confess it is
true, he is not an advocate for every one, for while he was here, he
prayed not for the world, but them that were given him out of the world,
(John xvii.), much more will he not plead for the world, when he is above.
He is rather witnessing against the unbelieving world. But yet, I believe
his advocation is not restrained only to those who actually believe, as
neither his supplication was, John xvii. But as he prayed for those who
should hereafter believe, so he still pleads for all the elect not only to
procure remission to the penitent, but repentance to the impenitent.
There is one notable effect of the advocation and intercession of Christ,
which indeed is common to the world, but particularly intended for the
elect, that is, the present suspension of the execution of the curse of
the law, by virtue whereof there is liberty to offer the gospel, and call
sinners to repentance. No question, the sparing of the world, the
forbearance and long suffering of God towards sinners, is the result and
fruit of our Lord’s intercession and advocation in heaven, and so, even
the elect have the benefit of it before they believe, but it is so
provided, that they shall never sensibly know this, nor have any special
comfort from it, till they believe, and so Christ doth not plead for
pardon to their sins till they repent. He pleads even before we repent,
but we cannot know it; yet he pleads not that pardon be bestowed before
they repent, and so the saving efficacy of his advocation is peculiar and
proper in the application to believing souls.
Now, consider, I say, whether or not thou be one that finds the power of
that persuasion,—“My little children, I write unto you that ye sin not,”
&c. Canst thou unfeignedly say, that it is the desire and endeavour of thy
soul not to sin, and that thou art persuaded to this, not only from the
fear and terror of God, but especially from his mercy and goodness in the
gospel? This is one part of the character of such as Christ’s advocation
is actually extended to. Moreover, being surprised with sin, and overcome
beside thy purpose, and against thy desire, dost thou apprehend sin as thy
greatest misery, and arraign thyself before the tribunal of God, or art
thou attached in thy own conscience, and the law pleaded against thee,
before the bar of thy own conscience? Then, I say, according to this
scripture, thou art the soul unto whom this comfort belongs, thou art
called of God to decide the controversy in thy own conscience. By flying
up, and appealing to that higher tribunal, where Christ is advocate, thou
mayest safely give over, and trust thy cause to him.
But, on the other hand, O how deplorable and remediless is the condition
of those souls who have no cause of this kind stated within their own
consciences, who are not pursued by Satan and sin, but rather at peace
with them, amicably agreeing with them, acting their lusts and will! You
who have no bonds upon you, to restrain you from sin, neither the terror
of the Lord persuadeth yon, nor the love of Christ constrains you, you can
be kept from no beloved sin, nor pressed to any serious and spiritual
labour in God’s service; and then when you sin, you have no accuser
within, or such an one as you suppress, and suffer not to plead it out
against you or cite you before God’s tribunal. I say unto you, (and,
alas! many of you are such) you do not, you cannot know, that you have an
interest in this Advocate. You can have no benefit or saving advantage
from Christ’s pleading, while you remain thus in your sins. Alas! poor
souls, what will ye do? Can you manage your own cause alone? Though you
defraud and deceive your own consciences now, though ye offer violence to
them, do ye think so to carry it above? Nay, persuade yourselves you must
one day appear, and none to speak for you, God your Judge, your conscience
your accuser, and Satan, your tormentor, standing by, and then woe to him
that is alone, when the Advocate becomes Judge. In that day blessed are
all those that have trusted in him, and used him formerly as an Advocate
against sin and Satan, but woe to those for ever, who would never suffer
this cause to be pleaded, while there was an Advocate!
Sermon XXVII.
1 John ii. 2.—“And he is the propitiation,” &c.
Here is the strength of Christ’s plea, and ground of his advocation, that
“he is the propitiation.” The advocate is the priest, and the priest is
the sacrifice, and such efficacy this sacrifice hath, that the
propitiatory sacrifice may be called the very propitiation and
pacification for sin. Here is the marrow of the gospel, and these are the
breasts of consolation which any poor sinner might draw by faith, and
bring out soul refreshment. But truly, it comes not out but by drawing,
and there is nothing fit for that but the heart, that alone can suck out
of these breasts the milk of consolation. The well of salvation in the
word is deep, and many of you have nothing to draw with, you want the
bucket that should be let down, that is, the affectionate meditation and
consideration of the heart, and therefore you go away empty. You come
full of other cares, and desires, and delights, no empty room in your
hearts for this, no soul longings and thirstings after the righteousness
of God, and therefore you return as you came, empty of all solid and true
refreshment. Oh, that we could draw it forth to you, and then drop it into
your hearts, and make it descend into your consciences!
In these words, you may consider more distinctly, who this is, and then,
for whom he is made a sacrifice, and withal, the efficacy of this
sacrifice, and the sufficiency. Who this is, is pointed out as with the
finger. “He is,” that is, “Jesus Christ, the righteous.” The apostle
demonstrates him as a remarkable person, as in his evangel the Baptist
doth—“Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world.”
And the church, (Isa. lxii. 1,) taketh a special notice of this person,
“Who is this that cometh from Edom?” And that which maketh him so
remarkable, is his strange habit, after the treading the wine-press of
wrath alone,—that he was made a bloody sacrifice to pacify God. And to
show you how notable a person he is, he is signally and eminently pointed
out by the Father, Isa. xlii. 1, “Behold my servant,” &c, as if he would
have the eyes of all men fixed upon him, with wonder and admiration. And
for this end, he singled him out from the multitude, by a voice from
heaven, which testified unto him particularly, “This is my well beloved
Son, hear him.” Therefore the apostle had reason to say, (2 Cor. v. 14.)
that he is “one for all,” so notable an one, that he may serve for all. He
stands in more value in the count of God than all mankind. All creatures
are ciphers, which being never so much multiplied, come to nothing, amount
not beyond nothing, but set him before them, put Christ on the head of
them, and he signifies more than they all do, and gives them all some
estimation in the count. And so they stand in Paul’s calculation, (Phil.
iii.) which he makes with very great assurance and confidence, “Yea,
doubtless, I count all dung, but the superexcellent knowledge of
Christ,”—Christ is only the figure that hath signification, and gives
signification to other things.
But in this business, the consideration of the persons interested, _he_
and _us_, maketh us behold a great emphasis in the gospel. _He_ a
propitiation, and that for _our_ sins, is a strange combination of
wonders. If it had been some other person less distant from us, that were
thus given for us, and standing in our room, then we should have better
understood the exchange. Things of like worth, to be thus shuffled
together, and stand in one another’s place, is not so strange. But between
the persons mentioned, _him_ and _us_, there is such an infinite distance,
that it is wonderful how the one descends to the room of the other, to
become a sacrifice for us. O that we could express this to our own hearts,
with all the emphasis that it hath! He the Lord, and we the servants; he
the King, and we the poor beggars, he the brightness of his Father’s
glory, and we the shame and ignominy of the whole creation, he counting it
no robbery to be equal with God, and being in the form of God, and we not
equal to the worst of creatures, because of sin, and being in the form of
devils! Had it been a holy and righteous man for sinners, it had been a
strange enough exchange, but he is not only holy and harmless, but higher
than the heavens. O what a vast descent was this, from heaven to earth,
from a Lord to a servant, from an eternal Spirit to mortal flesh, from God
to creatures! And to descend thus far for such persons, not only unworthy
in themselves, such as could not conciliate any liking, but such as might
procure loathing,—as is described, Ezek. xvi., Rom. v. 6, 1 Pet. iii.
18,—“while we were enemies,” and might have expected a commissioner from
heaven, with vengeance against us. Behold how the mysterious design of
love breaks up and opens itself to the world, in sending his own Son for
us! And this is exceedingly aggravated from the absolute freedom of it,
that there was nothing to pre-engage him to it, but infinite impediments
in the way to dissuade him, many impediments to his affection, and many
difficulties to his power, and then, no gain nor advantage to be expected
from such creatures, notwithstanding of such an undertaking for them.
Now, herein is the strongest support of faith, and the greatest incentive
to love, and the mightiest persuasive to obedience that can be. I say, the
strongest support of faith, for, a soul apprehending the greatness and
heinousness of sin and the inviolableness of God’s righteousness, with the
purity of his holiness, can hardly be persuaded, that any thing can
compense that infinite wrong that is done to his Majesty, though
ordinarily the small and superficial apprehension of sin makes a kind of
facility in this, or an empty credulity of the gospel. The reason why most
men do not question and doubt of the gospel, and of their acceptance
before God, is not because they are established in the faith, but rather
because they do not so seriously and deeply believe, and ponder their own
sins, and God’s holiness, which, if many did, they would find it a greater
difficulty to attain to a solid and quieting persuasion of the grounds of
the gospel: they would find much ado to settle that point of the readiness
of God, to pardon and accept sinners. But now, I say, all this difficulty,
and these clouds of doubts will evanish at the bright appearance of this
Sun of righteousness, that is, at the solid consideration of the glorious
excellency of him that was given a ransom for us. Herein the soul may be
satisfied, that God is satisfied, when he considers what a person hath
undertaken it, even Jesus the righteous, the only Son of God, in whom his
soul delighteth, whose glorious divine Majesty puts the stamp of infinite
worth upon all his sufferings, and raiseth up the dignity of the
sacrifice, beyond the sufferings of all creatures. For there are two
things needful for the full satisfaction of a troubled soul, that
apprehends the heinousness of sin, and height of wrath, nothing can calm
and settle this storm, but the appearance of two things _first_ of God’s
willingness and readiness to pardon sin, and save sinners, _next_ of the
answerableness of a ransom to his justice, that so there may be no
impediment in his way to forgive. Now, let this once be established in thy
heart that such an one, so beloved of God and so equal to God, is the
propitiation for our sins that, “God hath sent his only begotten Son,” for
this very business, unrequired and unknown of us then, there is the
clearest demonstration of these two things that can be—of the love of God,
and of the worth of the ransom. What difficulty can be supposed in it,
actually to pardon thy heinous sins, when his love hath overcome
infinitely greater difficulties, to send One, his own Son, to procure
pardon, John iii. Certainly, it cannot but be the very delight of his
heart to forgive sins, since he “spared not his Son” to purchase it, since
he hath had such an everlasting design of love, which broke out in
Christ’s coming. And then, such a person he is, that the merit of his
sufferings cannot but be a valuable and sufficient compensation to justice
for our personal exemption, because he is one above all, of infinite
highness. And therefore his lowness hath an infinite worth in it,—of
infinite fulness, and therefore his emptiness is of infinite price of
infinite glory, and so his shame is equivalent to the shame and
malediction of all mankind. So then, whatsoever thou apprehendest of thy
own sins or God’s holiness, that seemeth to render thy pardon difficult,
lay but in the balance with that first, the free and rich expression of
the infinite love of God, in sending such an one for a ransom, and sure,
that speaks as much to his readiness and willingness, as if a voice spake
it just now from heaven, and then, to take away all scruple, lay the
infinite worth of his person, who is the propitiation, with thy sins, and
it will certainly outweigh them, so that thou mayest be fully quieted, and
satisfied in that point, that it is as easy for him to pardon, as for thee
to confess sin and ask pardon, nay that he is more ready to give it thee,
than thou to ask it.
But, in the next place I desire you to look upon this as the greatest
incentive of affection. O how should it inflame your hearts to consider,
that such an one became a sacrifice for our sins, to think that angels
hath not such a word to comfort themselves withal! Those innumerable
companies of angels, who left their station, and were once in dignity
above us have not such glad tidings to report one to another in their
societies, as we have. They cannot say, “He is the propitiation for our
sins.” This is the wonderful mystery, that blessed “angels desire to look
into.” They gaze upon it, and fix the eyes of their admiration upon “God
manifested in the flesh,” wondering at the choice of mortal man, before
immortal spirits, that he is a ransom for them, and not for their own
brethren who left their station. How should this endear him to our souls,
and his will to our hearts, who hath so loved us, and given himself for
us! Hath he given himself for us, and should we deny ourselves to him,
especially when we consider what an infinite disparity is between the
worth and difference in the advantage of it. He gave his blessed self a
sacrifice, he offered himself to death for us, not to purchase any thing
to himself, but life to us. And what is it he requires but your base and
unworthy self,—to offer up your lusts and sins in a sacrifice by
mortification, and your hearts and affections in a thanksgiving offering,
wherein your own greatest gain lies too? For this is truly to find and
save yourselves, thus to quit yourselves to him.
The efficacy of this is holden out in the word, “propitiation for our
sins.” The virtue of Christ’s sacrifice is to pacify justice and make God
propitious, that is, favourable and merciful to sinners. In which there
are three considerable things imported. One is that sin is the cause of
enmity between God and man, and sets us at an infinite distance—that sin
is a heinous provocation of his wrath. Another is expressed, that Christ
is the propitiation,—in opposition to that provocation, he pacifies wrath,
and then conciliates favour by the sacrifice of himself. All the
expressions of the gospel import the damnable and deplorable estate that
sin puts man into, _reconciliation_ imports the standing enmity and feud
between God and man, _propitiation_ imports the provocation of the holy
and just indignation of God against man, the fuel whereof is our sins,
_justification_ implies the lost and condemned estate of a sinner, under
the sentence and curse of the law. All that is in the gospel reminds us of
our original, of the forlorn estate in which he found us, none pitying us
nor able to help us. I would desire that this might first take impression
on your hearts,—that sin sets God and man at infinite distance, and not
only distance, but disaffection and enmity. It hath sown the seeds of that
woful discord, and kindled that contention, which, if it be not quenched
by the blood of Christ, will burn to everlasting, so that none can dwell
with it, and yet sinners must dwell in it. There is a provoking quality in
it, fit to alienate the holy heart of God, and to incense his indignation,
which, when once it is kindled who can stand before it? Do but consider
what you conceive of wrongs done to you, how they stir your passions and
provoke your patience so that there is much ado to get you pacified, and
what heinousness must then be in your offences against God, both in regard
of number and kind? O that you could but impartially weigh this matter,
you would find, that in the view of God all wrongs and injuries between
men evanish. “Against thee, thee only, have I sinned.” That relation and
respect of sin to God, exhausts all other respects of injuries towards
men. It is true, that his Majesty is free from passion, and is not
commoved and troubled as your spirits are. Yet such is the provoking
nature of sin, that it cries for vengeance, and brings a sinner under the
dreadful sentence of divine wrath, which he both pronounceth and can
execute without any inward commotion or disturbance of spirit. But,
because we conceive of him after our manner, therefore he speaks in such
terms to us. But that which he would signify by it is, that the sinner is
in as dreadful and damnable a condition by sin, as if the Lord were
mightily inflamed with anger and rage. The just punishment is as due and
certain as if he were subject to such passions as we are, and so much the
more certain, that he is not. Now I desire you to consider, how mightily
the heinousness of sin is aggravated, partly by the quality of the
persons, and partly by the consideration of his benefits to us. A great
man resents a light wrong heavily, because his person makes the wrong
heavier. O! what do you think the Most High should do considering his
infinite distance from us, his glorious majesty and greatness, his pure
holiness, his absolute power and supremacy? What vile and abominable
characters of presumption and rebellion do all these imprint upon
disobedience! Shall he suffer himself to be despised and neglected of men,
when there is no petty creature above another, but will be jealous of his
credit, and vindicate himself from contempt? And then, when ingratitude is
mingled in with rebellion, it makes sin exceeding sinful, and sinful sin
exceeding provoking. To proclaim open war against the holy and righteous
will of him to whom we owe ourselves, and all that we are or have, to do
evil, because he is good, and be unthankful, because he is kind to take
all his own members, faculties, creatures, and employ them as instruments
of dishonour against himself, there is here fuel for feeding everlasting
indignation, there is no indignity, no vileness, no wickedness to this.
All the provocations of men, how just soever, are in the sight of this
groundless and vain, like a child’s indignation. All are but imaginary
injuries, consisting but in opinion, in regard of that which sin hath in
the bosom of it against God.
But how shall any satisfaction be made for the injury of sin? What shall
pacify his justly deserved anger? Here is the question indeed, that would
have driven the whole world to a _nonplus_, if once the majesty and
holiness of God had been seen. But the ignorance of God’s greatness, and
men’s sinfulness, made the world to fancy some expiations of sin, and
satisfactions to God, partly by sacrifices of beasts, partly by prayer,
and repentance for sins.
Sermon XXVIII.
1 John ii. 3.—“And hereby we do know that we know him, if we keep
his commandments.”
This age pretends to much knowledge beyond former ages, knowledge, I say,
not only in other natural arts and sciences, but especially in religion.
Whether there be any great advancement in other knowledge, and improvement
of that which was, to a further extent and clearness, I cannot judge, but
I believe there is not much of it in this nation, nor do we so much
pretend to it. But, we talk of the enlargements of divine knowledge, and
the breaking up of a clearer light in the point of religion, in respect of
which we look on former times, as the times of ignorance and darkness,
which God winked at. If it were so indeed, I should think the time happy,
and bless the days we live in, for as many sour and sad accidents as they
are mixed withal. Indeed, if the variety of books, and multiplicity of
discourses upon religion, if the multitude of disputes about points of
truth, and frequency of sermons, might be held for a sufficient proof of
this pretension, we should not want store enough of knowledge and light.
But, I fear that this is not the touchstone of the Holy Ghost, according
to which we may try the truth of this assertion, that this is not the
rule, by which to measure either the truth, or degrees of our knowledge,
but for all that, we may be lying buried in Egyptian darkness, and while
such a light seems to shine about us our hearts may be a dungeon of
darkness, of ignorance of God and unbelief, and our ways and walk full of
stumblings in the darkness. I am led to entertain these sad thoughts of
the present times from the words of the apostle, which give us the
designation of a true Christian, to be the knowledge of God, and the
character of his knowledge, to be obedience to his commands. If, according
to this level, we take the estimate of the proportion of our knowledge and
light, I am afraid lest there be found as much ignorance of God, and
darkness, as we do foolishly fancy that we have of light. However, to find
it, will be some breaking up of light in our hearts, and to discover how
little we know indeed upon a solid account, will be the first morning star
of that Sun of righteousness, which will shine more and more to the
perfect day. Therefore we should labour to bring our light to the lamp of
this word, and our knowledge to this testimony of unquestionable
authority, that having recourse “to the law and to the testimony,” we may
find if there be light in us or so much light as men think they see. If we
could but open our eyes to the shining light of the scripture, I doubt not
but we should be able to see that which few do see, that is, that much of
the pretended light of this age is darkness and ignorance. I do not speak
of errors only that come forth in the garments of new light, but
especially of the vulgar knowledge of the truth of religion, which is far
adulterated from the true metal and stamp of divine knowledge, by the
intermixture of the gross darkness of our affections and conversation, as
that other is from the naked truth, and therefore both of them are found
light in the balance of the sanctuary, and counterfeit by this touchstone
of obedience.
To make out this examination the better I shall endeavour to open these
three things unto you, which comprehend the words. 1st, That the knowledge
of God in Jesus Christ is the most proper designation of a Christian,
“Hereby we know that we know him,” which is as much as to say that we are
true Christians,—2dly, That the proper character of true knowledge is
obedience, or conscionable practising of what we know,—and then, lastly,
That the only estimate or trial of our estate before God, is made
according to the appearance of his work in us and not by immediate
thrusting ourselves into the secrets of God’s hidden degrees. “Hereby we
know,” &c. Here then, in a narrow circle we have all the work and business
of a Christian. His direct and principal duty is to know God, and keep his
commands, which are not two distinct duties as they come in a religious
consideration, but make up one complete work of Christianity, which
consists in conformity to God. Then the reflex and secondary duty of a
Christian, which makes much for his comfort, is, to know that he knows
God. To know God, and keep his commands, is a thing of indispensable
necessity to the being of a Christian, to know that we know him is of
great concernment to the comfort and well being of a Christian. Without
the first, a man is as miserable as he can be, without the sense and
feeling of misery, because he wants the spring and fountain of all
happiness; without the second, a Christian is unhappy, indeed, for the
present, though he may not be called miserable, because he is more happy
than he knows of, and only unhappy, because he knows not his happiness.
For the first, then, knowledge is a thing so natural to the spirit of a
man, that the desire of it is restless and insatiable. There is some
appetite of it in all men, though in the generality of people (because of
immersedness in earthly things, and the predominancy of corrupt lusts and
affections, which hinder most men’s souls to wait upon that more noble
inquiry after knowledge, in which only a man really differs from a beast)
there be little or no stirring that way, yet some finer spirits there are,
that are unquiet this way, and, with Solomon, give themselves, and apply
their hearts to search out wisdom. But this is the curse of man’s
curiosity at first, in seeking after unnecessary knowledge, when he was
happy enough already, and knew as much of God and his works as might have
been a most satisfying entertainment of his spirit, I say, for that
wretched aim, we are to this day deprived of that knowledge which man once
had, which was the ornament of his nature and the repast of his soul. As
all other things are subdued under a curse for sin, so especially this
which man had is lost, in seeking that which he needed not, and the track
of it is so obscured and perplexed, the footsteps of it are so
indiscernible, and the way of it is like a bird in the air, or a ship in
the sea, leaving us few helps to find it out, that most part of men lose
themselves in seeking to find it, and therefore, in all the inquiries and
searchings of men after the knowledge even of natural things that come
under our view, there is at length nothing found out remarkable, but the
increase of sorrow, and the discovery of ignorance, as Solomon saith,
Eccles. i. 18. This is all the jewel that is brought up from the bottom of
this sea, when men dive deepest into it, for the wisest of men could reach
no more, though his bucket was as long as any man’s, chap. vii. 23. “I
said, I will be wise, but it was far from me, that which is far off and
exceeding deep, who can find it out?” Knowledge hath taken a far journey
from man’s nature, and hath not left any prints behind it to find it out
again, but, as it were, hath flown away in an instant, and therefore we
may ask, with Job, chap. xxviii. ver. 1, 12, “Surely there is a vein for
the silver,” etc. “But where shall wisdom be found? and where is the place
of understanding?” What Utopian isles is she transported unto, that mortal
men, the more they seek her, find more ignorance,—the further they pursue,
they see themselves at the further distance? Thus it is in those things
that are most obvious to our senses, but how much more in spiritual and
invisible things is our darkness increased, because of the dulness and
earthiness of our spirits that are clogged with a lump of flesh! For God
himself, that should be the _primum intelligibile_ of the soul, the first
and principal object, whose glorious light should first strike into our
hearts, Job testifies “how little a portion is known of him.” When we
cannot so much as understand “the thunder of his power,” that makes such a
sensible impression on our ears, and makes all the world to stand and
hearken to it, then how much less shall we conceive the invisible Majesty
of God? In natural things, we have one vail of darkness in our minds to
hinder us, but in the apprehension of God, we have a twofold darkness to
break through, the darkness of ignorance in us, and “the darkness of too
much light” in him—_caliginem nimiæ lucis,_ which makes him as
inaccessible to us as the other, the over-proportion of that glorious
majesty of God to our low spirits, being as the sun in its brightness to a
night owl, which is dark midnight to it. Hence it is, that those holy men
who know most of God, think they know least, because they see more to be
known but infinitely surpassing knowledge. Pride is the daughter of
ignorance only, “and he that thinketh he knoweth anything knoweth nothing
as he ought to know,” saith the apostle, 1 Cor. viii. 2. For he that
knoweth not his own ignorance, if he know never so much, is the greatest
ignorant, and it is a manifest evidence that a man hath but a superficial
touch of things and hath never broken the shell, or drawn by the vail of
his own weakness and ignorance, that doth not apprehend deeply the
unsearchableness of God, and his mysteries, but thinketh he hath in some
measure compassed them, because he maketh a system of divinity, or setteth
down so many conclusions of faith, and can debate them against
adversaries, or because he hath a form and model of divinity, as of other
sciences, in his mind. Nay, my beloved, holy Job attained to the deepest
and fullest speculation of God, when he concluded thus, “Because I see
thee, I abhor myself,” and as Paul speaks, “If any man love God he is
known of God, and so knows God,” 1 Cor. viii. 3. From which two
testimonies I conclude, that the true knowledge of God consists not so
much in a comprehension of all points of divinity, as in such a serious
apprehension and conception of the divine Majesty as enkindles and
inflames these two affections, love and hatred, towards their proper
objects, such a knowledge as carries the torch before the affection, such
a light as shines into the heart, as Paul’s phrase is, 2 Cor. iv. 6, and
so transmits heat and warmness into it, till it make the heart burn in the
love of God, and loathing of himself. As long as a man doth but hear of
God in sermons, or read of him in books, though he could determine all the
questions and problems in divinity, he keeps a good conceit of himself,
and that “knowledge puffeth up,” and swells a man into a vain tumour, the
venom of poison blows him up full of wind and self-confidence, and
commonly they who doubt least are not the freest of error and
misapprehension. And truly, whoever seriously reflects upon the difficulty
of knowledge, and darkness of men’s minds, and the general curse of vanity
and vexation that all things are under, so that what is wanting cannot be
numbered, nor that which is crooked made straight,—he cannot but look upon
too great confidence and peremptoriness in all points, as upon a race at
full speed in the dark night, in a way full of pits and snares. Oftentimes
our confidence flows not from evidence of truth, but the ignorance of our
minds, and is not so much built upon the strength of reason, as the
strength of our passions, and weakness of our judgments.
But when once a man comes to see God, and know him in a lively manner,
then he sees his own weakness and vileness in that light, and cries out
with Isaiah, “Wo is me, I am a man of polluted lips,” and he discerns in
that light, the amiableness and loveliness of God that lavisheth his heart
after it, and then, as Jeremiah saith, he will not glory in riches, or
strength, or beauty, or wisdom, but only in this, that he hath at length
gotten some discovery of the only fountain of happiness. Then he will not
think so much of tongues and languages, of prophesyings, of all knowledge
of controversies, neither gifts of body nor of mind, nor external
appendages of providence will much affect him. He would be content to
trample on all these, to go over them into a fuller discovery and
enjoyment of God himself.
If we search the scriptures, we shall find that they do not entertain us
with many and subtile discourses of God’s nature, and decrees, and
properties, nor do they insist upon the many perplexed questions that are
made concerning Christ and his offices, about which so many volumes are
spun out, to the infinite distraction of the Christian world. They do not
pretend to satisfy your curiosity, but to edify your souls, and therefore
they hold out God in Christ, as clothed with all his relations to mankind,
in all those plain and easy properties, that concern us everlastingly,—his
justice, mercy, grace, patience, love, holiness, and such like. Now, hence
I gather, that the true knowledge of God, consists not in the
comprehension of all the conclusions that are deduced, and controversies
that are discussed anent these things, but rather, in the serious and
solid apprehension of God, as he hath relation to us, and consequently in
order and reference to the moving of our hearts, to love, and adore, and
reverence him, for he is holden out only in those garments that are fit to
move and affect our hearts. A man may know all these things, and yet not
know God himself, for to know him, cannot he abstracted from loving of
him—“They that know thy name will trust in thee, and so love thee, and
fear thee.” For it is impossible but that this will be the natural result,
if he be but known indeed, because there is no object more amiable, more
dreadful withal, and more eligible and worthy of choice, and therefore,
seeing infinite beauty and goodness, and infinite power and greatness, and
infinite sufficiency and fulness, are combined together with infinite
truth, the soul that apprehends him indeed, cannot but apprehend him as
the most ravishing object, and the most reverend too, and, if he do not
find his heart suitably affected, it is an evident demonstration that he
doth not indeed apprehend him, but an idol. The infinite light, and the
infinite life, are simply one, and he that truly without a dream sees the
one, cannot but be warmed and moved by the other.
So then, by this account of the knowledge of God, we have a clear
discovery that many are destitute of it, who pretend to it. I shall only
apply it to two sorts of persons, one is, of those who have it only in
their memories, another, of those who have it only in their minds or
heads. Religion was once the legitimate daughter of judgment and
affection, but now, for the most part, it is only adopted by men’s
memories, or fancies. The greatest part of the people cannot go beyond the
repetition of the catechism or creed. Not that I would have you to know
more: but you do not understand that, only ye repeat words, without the
sensible knowledge of the meaning of them; so that if the same matter be
disguised with any other form of words, you cannot know it, which showeth,
that you have no familiarity with the thing itself, but only with the
letters and syllables that are the garments of it. And for others that are
of greater capacity, yet, alas! it comes not down to the heart, to the
affecting, and moulding, and forming of it. A little light shines into the
mind, but your hearts are shut up still, and no window in them. Corrupt
affections keep that garrison against the power of the gospel. That light
hath no heat of love, or warmness of affection with it, which showeth that
it is not a ray or beam of the Sun of righteousness, which is both
beautiful for light, and beneficial for influence, on the cold, and dead,
frozen hearts of mankind, and by its approaching, makes a spring-time in
the heart.
But all men pretend to know God. Such is the self love of men’s hearts,
that it makes them blind in judging themselves, therefore the Holy Ghost,
as he designs a Christian by the knowledge of God, so he characterizeth
knowledge by keeping the commandments. “Hereby we know,” &c. So that
religion is not defined by a number of opinions, or by such a collection
of certain articles of faith, but rather by practice and obedience to the
known will of God; for, as I told you, knowledge is a relative duty, that
is, instrumental to something else, and by anything I can see in
scripture, is not principally intended for itself, but rather for
obedience. There are some sciences altogether speculative, that rest and
are complete in the mere knowledge of such objects, as some natural
sciences are. But others are practical, that make a further reference of
all things they cognosce upon, to some practice and operation. Now,
perhaps some may think that the scripture, or divinity, is much of it
merely contemplative, in regard of many mysteries infolded in it, that
seem nothing to concern our practice. I confess much of that, that is
raised out of the scriptures, is such, and therefore it seems a deviation
and departure from the great scope and plain intent of the simplicity and
easiness of the scriptures, to draw forth with much industry and subtilty,
many things of mere speculation and notion, dry and sapless to the
affection, and unedifying to our practice, and to obtrude these upon other
men’s consciences, as points of religion. I rather think, that all that is
in the scriptures, either directly hath the practice of God’s will for the
object of it, or is finally intended for that end, either it is a thing
that prescribeth our obedience, or else it tends principally to engage our
affections, and secure our obedience, and so those strains of elevated
discourses of God, his nature and properties, of his works, and all the
mysteries infolded in them, are directed towards this end, further than
mere knowing of them, to engage the heart of a believer to more love, and
reverence, and adoration of God, that so he may be brought more easily and
steadily to a sweet compliance, and harmonious agreement to the will of
God, in all his ways. Nay, to say a little more, there are sundry physical
or natural contemplations of the works of God in scripture, but all these
are divinely considered, in reference to the ravishment of the heart of
man, with the wisdom, and power, and goodness of God. And this shows us
the notable art of religion, to extract affection and obedience to God,
out of all natural contemplations, and thus true divinity engraven on the
soul, is a kind of mistress science, _architectonica scientia_,(255) that
serves itself of all other disciplines(256) of all other points of
knowledge. Be they never so remote from practice, in their proper sphere,
and never so dry and barren, yet a religious and holy heart can apply them
to those divine uses of engaging itself further to God and his obedience:
as the Lord himself teacheth us—“Who would not fear thee, O King of
nations,” Jer. x.; and, “fear ye not me who have placed the sand,” &c.
Jer. v. 22. So praise is extracted, Psal. civ.; and admiration, verses 1,
83. So submission and patience under God’s hand is often pressed in Job.
Therefore, if we only seek to know these things that we may know them,
that we may discourse on them, we disappoint the great end and scope of
the whole scriptures; and we debase and degrade spiritual things as far as
religion exalts natural things in the spiritual use. We transform it into
a carnal, empty, and dead letter, as religion, where it is truly,
spiritualizeth earthly and carnal things into a holy use. &c.
HEART-HUMILIATION
Or, Miscellany Sermons, Preached Upon Some Choice Texts, At Several Solemn
Occasions.
To The Reader.
_Christian Reader_,
This holy preacher of the gospel had so many convictions upon his spirit
of the necessity of the duties of humiliation and mourning, and of
people’s securing the eternal interest of their souls for the life to
come, by flying into Jesus Christ for remission of sins in his blood, that
he made these the very scope of his sermons in many public humiliations,
as if it had been the one thing which he conceived the Lord was calling
for in his days; a clear evidence whereof thou shall find manifested in
these following sermons upon choice texts, wherein the author
endeavoureth, not only to lay before thee the necessity of these duties of
soul humiliation, but also showeth thee the gospel manner of performing
them, the many soul advantages flowing from the serious exercise of them,
and the many soul-destroying prejudices following upon the neglect of
them, but above all, thou shalt find him so fully setting forth the
sinfulness of sin, and the utter emptiness of self, as may convince the
most pharisaically elated spirits, and make them cry out with Ezra, chap.
ix. 6, “O my God, I am ashamed, and blush to lift up my face to thee, my
God, for our iniquities are increased over our head, and our trespass is
grown up unto the heavens.” Here thou mayest read such pregnant
demonstrations of the righteousness and equity of the Lord’s dealing, even
in his severest punishments inflicted upon the children of men, as may
silence every whisperer against providence, and make them say, as Lam.
iii. 22, “It is of the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, even because
his compassions fail not.” And lastly, thou shalt perceive the
inconceivable fitness and fulness of Christ as a Saviour, and his never
enough to be admired tenderness and condescending willingness to accept of
humble, heart broken, and heart-panting sinners after him, with such
plainness of speech demonstrated, as may enable the most bruised reed to
quench all the fiery darts of the devil, whereby he laboureth to affright
them from making application to Jesus for salvation. Now that the Lord
would make those and such-like labours of his faithful servants useful and
advantageous to thy soul, Christian reader, is the prayer of thy servant
in the gospel of our dearest Lord and Saviour.
Sermon I.
At A Public Fast In July, First Sabbath, 1650.(257)
Deut. xxxii. 4-7.—“He is the Rock, his work is perfect, for all
his ways are judgment,” &c.
There are two things which may comprehend all religion,—the knowledge of
God and of ourselves. These are the principles of religion, and are so
nearly conjoined together, that the one cannot be truly without the other,
much less savingly. It is no wonder that Moses craved attention, and that,
to the end he may attain it from an hard hearted deaf people, he turns to
the heavens and to the earth,—as it were to make them the more
inexcusable. The matter of his song is both divine and necessary.
Throughout it all, he insists upon these two,—to discover what they were
in themselves, and what God was to them. He parallels their way with his
way, that they, finding the infinite distance, might have other thoughts
of themselves and of him both. It is a song, it is true, but a sad song.
The people of God’s mourning should be of this nature,—mixed, not pure
sorrow. It is hard to determine whether there be more matter of
consolation or lamentation, when such a comparison is made to the life,
when God’s goodness and our evils are set before our eyes, which may most
work the heart to such affections. Nay, I think it possible they may both
contribute to both these. Is there any more abasing and humbling principle
than love? How shall the sinner loathe himself in his glorious presence?
Will not so much kindness and mercy, so often repeated, as oft as it is
mentioned, wound the heart in which there is any tenderness? And, again,
when a soul beholds its own ingratitude and evil requital of the Lord’s
kindness, how vile and how perverse it is, how must it loathe itself in
dust and ashes! Yet is not all ground of hope removed. Such a sad sight
may make mixed affections. If we be so perverse and evil, then he is
infinitely good, and his mercy and goodness are above our evils; if we
have dealt so with him, yet is he the Rock that changes not, he is a God
of truth, and will not fail in his promise. Nay, though it be sad to be so
evil, void of all goodness, yet may the soul bless him for evermore, that
he hath chosen this way to glorify his name, to build up his praise upon
our ruin. May not a soul thus glory in sad infirmities, because his
strength is perfected in them, and made manifest? May not a soul choose
emptiness in itself, that it may be beholden to his fulness? How
refreshing a view might the saddest look on our misery and emptiness be,
if we did behold his purpose of manifesting his glory in it! You see here
a comparison instituted between two very unequal parties, God and man;
there is no likeness, let be equality in it, yet there is almost an
equality in unlikeness. The one is infinitely good and perfect; well, what
shall we compare to him? Who is like thee, O God, among the gods? Angels’
goodness, their perfection and innocency, hath not such a name and
appearance in his sight. So then, there can be no comparison made this
way. Let no flesh glory in his sight in anything, but, “let him that
glorieth, glory in the Lord,” for in the sight of the glorious Lord, all
things do disappear and evanish. But surely nothing, though most perfect,
can once come within terms of reckoning beside him for any worth. Moses
sees nothing to set beside God, that will appear in its own greatness and
native colours, but the creatures’ evil and sin; and if this be not
infinite absolutely, or equal to his goodness, yet it comes nearest the
borders of infiniteness. So then, is God most perfect? Is he infinite in
goodness, in truth, in righteousness, &c.—and so infinite, that before him
nothing appears good?—“There is none good save one, that is God.” Yet we
may find another infinite, and it is in evil sinful man; and these two
contraries set beside other, do much illustrate each other. It is true
that his grace superabounds, and his goodness is more than the creatures’
sinfulness; yet, I say, you shall not find anything that cometh nearer the
infiniteness and degrees of his goodness, than the sinfulness of men. How
much the more glorious he appears, so much the more vile and base doth it
appear.
If ye did indeed ponder and weigh these two verses in the balance of the
sanctuary, would not your heart secretly ask this question within you, Do
I thus requite the Lord? O foolish and unwise! Yea, would you not account
yourselves mad, to forsake the fountain of living waters, and dig broken
cisterns to yourselves? O of how great moment were this to humble
yourselves to-day! This day ye are called to mourning and afflicting your
souls. Now, I know not a more suitable exercise for a day of humiliation,
or a principle that may more humble and abase your souls, than the serious
and deep consideration of these two,—what God is, and hath been to us, and
what we are, and have proved to him; what hath made so many formal
humiliations that have provoked him to anger? Certainly we do not either
seriously think on any of these, or if one of them, yet not on both. The
most part of you know no more in such a day, but a name and ceremony of a
little abstinence. Is this to sanctify a day to the Lord,—when ye do not
so much as the people who bowed down their head for a day, and spread
sackcloth under them? I wonder how ye think to pacify his wrath, and are
not rather afraid of adding fuel and oil to the flame of his indignation.
Ye come here and sit as in former times, and what do ye more either here
or at home? There is no soul-affliction, no, not for a day. The most part
of you are no more affected with your sins and his judgments, than if none
of these things were. Now, I pray you, what shall the Lord say to us, when
he speaks to the Jews in such terms, Isa. lviii. 5,—“Is it such a fast
that I have chosen, a day for a man to afflict his soul?” And do ye so
much as afflict it for a day, or at all? Is this then the fast that he
will choose, to abstain from your breakfast in the morning, and at night
to compensate the want of it, and no more?(258) Is this an acceptable day
to the Lord? The Lord upbraids the Jews, “Wilt thou call this a fast?” And
what reason have we to ask you, is it possible ye think ye do indeed fast
to the Lord? I cannot think that the most part of you dare say, that ever
ye fasted or afflicted your souls.
Always here is the way, if we consider it. To spend a day acceptably to
the Lord, enter into a serious consideration of his Majesty, and
yourselves. Study on these two till ye find your hearts bear the stamp of
them, enlarge your hearts in the thoughts of them. Both are infinite,—his
goodness and power and mercy, and your sin and misery,—no end of them.
Whatever ye find good in God, write up answerably to it, so much evil and
sin in yourselves and the land; and what evil ye find in yourselves and
the land, write up so much goodness and mercy in his account. All the
names of his praise would be so many grounds of your confusion in
yourselves, and would imprint so many notes of reproach and disgrace upon
the creature found so contrary to him. This is even the exercise God calls
us to this day,—to consider his ways to us, and our ways to him; how he
hath walked, and how we have walked. Because ye lose the sight of these
two, he sends affliction,—because in our prosperity and peace we forget
God, and so ourselves; as ye find this people did, “when they waxed fat
they kicked against him, and forgat that he was their Rock.” We are so
much taken up with our own ease and peace, that we do not observe him in
his dealings; therefore doth the Lord trouble our peace, remove those
things we are taken up with, make a public proclamation of affliction, and
blessed be his name whose end is gracious. He means this,—it is the
proclamation of all his judgments,—turn your eyes off your present ease
here, consider what I am, and what yourselves are. No nation so soon
buries the memory of his mercies, O how soon are they drowned in oblivion!
And we forget our own provocations as suddenly. Therefore must he write
our iniquities upon a rod, that we may read them in great letters; and he
writes his former goodness in the change of his dispensations, when his
way to us changes, that we may know what is past. This is the great design
that God hath in the world,—to declare himself and his own name, that it
may be wondered and admired at by men, and this cannot be but by our ruin,
abasing us in the dust. He therefore uses to stain the pride of all glory,
that his alone may appear without spot. This is then the great controversy
of God with men and nations in all generations. They will not see him
alone exalted, and will not bow before him, and see their own vileness.
Why doth he overturn kingdoms and thrones? Why doth he shake nations so
often? Here it is; God’s controversy will never cease, till all men
acknowledge him in his highness and holiness, as the sole fountain of all
life, and find themselves vile, less than nothing, nay, worse than
nothing, and emptiness. If ye would then have God at peace with the land
and yourselves, here is the compendious way,—set him up a throne of
eminency in your hearts, and put yourselves in the dust, take with your
own guiltiness and naughtiness, and impossibility to help yourselves in
yourselves. Hold these two still in your eyes, that he may be alone
exalted.
Look how unequal a match, ver. 4, 5, “He is the Rock,” a rock indeed! If
we speak of strength, lo! he is strong; if of stability, he is the Lord,
and changes not, “the Ancient of days.” Hast not thou heard and considered
this, that the Almighty faints not, and wearies not? He holds forth
himself in such a name to his people, a ready, all-sufficient, perpetual,
and enduring refuge to all that trust in him, and fly unto him as a rock
higher than they. And this is the foundation that the church is builded
on, against which the gates of hell shall not prevail. God’s omnipotency
is for defence, his eternity, faithfulness, and unchangeableness to make
that sure. His mercy and goodness makes a hole in that rock to enter in, a
ready access for poor shipwrecked and broken men, who have no other
refuge. This is our rock, on which the church is builded, Jesus Christ, 1
Cor. x. 4.; Matt. xvi. 18. Were God inaccessible in himself, an
impregnable rock, how would sinners overcome him, and enter in to him to
be saved from wrath? Nay but Jesus Christ hath made a plain way and path,
out of the waves of sin and misery, into this rock higher than we; and so
the poor soul that is lost in its own eyes, and sees no refuge, is forced
to quit the broken ship of created confidence, for fear of perishing. Here
doth it find a door in this rock to enter. And there is water to drink of,
“a fountain of living waters” comes out of it, and that is Christ.
Now, all these names of his praise rub so many marks of shame on his
people. O how sad is the secret reproof and expostulation contained in
this commendation of God! He hath been a rock to us, our refuge that we
fled unto, and found sure; for as, in our straits, we mounted upon his
power and were supported, when “the floods lifted up their waves,” yet
have we left our rock, gone out from our strength. He offers himself a
rock unto us, his fulness and all-sufficiency for us, and yet we leave the
fountain of living waters, and dig broken cisterns, had rather choose our
own broken ships in which to toss up and down. He abides for ever the
same; though we change, he changes not. How may it reprove our
backslidings, that we depart from our rock! And where shall we find a
refuge in the day of indignation? Is there any created mountain, but some
floods of the time will cover? Therefore it is folly and madness to
forsake this rock that is still above the floods; “he is mightier than the
noise of many waters.” It may reprove our unbelief,—we change our faith
according to his dispensation, our faith ebbs and flows as the tide of his
providence, and thus we are as sticks floating in the water, tossed up and
down. But would ye be established as mount Sion? Would ye be unmoveable in
the midst of great waters, that they shall not come near unto you? Then,
by all means get upon this rock, that abides unmoved in the midst of the
waves. Though they should beat upon it, and the wind blow, yet it is proof
of all tempests. All things might be driven up and down about you with the
Lord’s dispensation, but ye should abide the same, and might look round
about you on the troubled sea of men’s minds, of lands and estates. If you
come here, ye may make shipwreck, but ye shall not drown; though ye lose
the creature’s comfort and defence, yet ye are on your rock, which is
established before the rocks and mountains. You may be sure of salvation.
He that made the rocks and winds and seas, is your rock.
“His work is perfect.” As he doth not trouble himself when all is troubled
about him, so he keeps him also in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on
him; so also what he doth among men, though it cannot pass without man’s
censure, yet it is in itself perfect, complete, without spot or defect.
What is the subject of all men’s questions, doubts, complaints, censures,
expostulations, and such like, of which the world is full? It is some one
work of God or other; there is no work of his providence, but some man
finds a fault in it, and would be at the mending of it. _Neque Deus cum
pluit, omnibus placet_:(259) if he give rain, he displeases many; if he
withhold it again, we are as little pleased. The reason of all this
misconstruction is, we look on his work by parcels,(260) and take it not
whole and entire. [Viewed] so, it is perfect, and cannot be made better.
“His works are perfect,” in relation to the beginning and original of
them, his own everlasting purpose. Men often bring forth works by guess,
by their purpose, so no wonder it answer not their desire. But “known to
him are all his works from the beginning,” and so he doth nothing in time,
but what was his everlasting pleasure. Often we purpose well, and resolve
perfectly, but our practice is a cripple, execution of it is maimed and
imperfect. But all his works are carved out, and done just as he designed
them, without the least alteration; and, if it had not been well, would he
have thought on it so, and resolved it beforehand? His works are perfect,
in relation to the end to which he appointed them. It may be it is not
perfect in itself: a blind eye is not so perfect as a seeing eye; nay, but
in relation to the glory of his name, who hath a purpose to declare his
power by restoring that sight, it is as perfect. And in this sense, all
the imperfection of the creatures and creation, all of them are perfect
works, for they accomplish the end wherefore they were sent; and so the
night declares his name, and utters a speech as well as the day, the
winter as the summer, the wilderness as the fruitful field. For what is
the perfection of the creature, but in as far as it accomplishes his
purpose and end, as the maker of it serves himself with it? And therefore
all his work is perfect, for it is all framed in wisdom to his own ends,
in number, measure, and weight; it is so exactly agreeing to that, that
you could not imagine it better. Again, his work is perfect, if we take it
altogether, and do not cut it in parcels, and look on it so. Is there any
workmanship beautiful, if ye look upon it in the doing? While the timber
lies in one part, and the stones in another, is that a perfect building?
When ye see one arm here, another there, and a leg scattered beside them,
hath that image any comeliness? Certainly no; but look upon these united,
and then they are perfect. Letters and syllables make no sense, till ye
conjoin them in words, and words in sentences. Even so is it here; if ye
look on the day alone, the light of it being perpetual would weary us, the
night alone would be more so; but the interchange of them is pleasant,—day
and night together make a distinct language of God’s praise. So God hath
set prosperity and adversity the one over against the other. One of them,
it may be, seems imperfect; nay, but it is a perfect work that is made up
of both. Spots in the face commend the beauty of the rest of it.
If ye would then look upon God’s work aright, look on it in the
sanctuary’s light, and ye shall say, “He hath done all well.” Join the end
with the beginning, and behold they agree very well. Many things among us
seem out of order, many things uncomplete, The reformation of England, how
great obstruction was in the way of it? Is that now a perfect work? Yes,
certainly; for if we knew his end and purpose, it is very well, and could
not be bettered by the art of all men; “his thoughts are far above our
thoughts.” The prosperous and uninterrupted success of that party in
England, is it a perfect work? Yes, certainly; for if ye could behold
their end, ye would say so; “they are set in slippery places, their foot
shall slide in due time.”(261)
Entertain this thought in your heart, that he hath done all well. Let not
your secret thoughts so much as call them in question. If once ye
question, ye will quickly censure them. Hold this persuasion, that
nothing can be better than what he doth, nothing can be added, and nothing
diminished from them, he doth all in number, weight, and measure. It is so
exactly correspondent to his purpose and design, as if it were weighed
out, and measured out for that end.
Let this secretly reprove your hearts. The perfection of his works stains
our works. O how imperfect are they! And which is worse, how impudent and
bold are we to censure his, and absolve our own? If he have a hand in our
work, these imperfect works are perfect in regard of him. As we have a
hand in his perfect works, his perfect works are imperfect in regard of
us.
Sermon II.
Deut. xxxii. 4, 5.—“He is the Rock, his work is perfect, for all
his ways are judgment, a God of truth, and without iniquity, just
and right is he. They have corrupted themselves, their spot is not
the spot of his children,” &c.
There are none can behold their own vileness as it is, but in the sight of
God’s glorious holiness. Sin is darkness, and neither sees itself, nor any
thing else, therefore must his light shine to discover this darkness. If
we abide within ourselves, and men like ourselves, we cannot wisely judge
ourselves, our dim sparkle will not make all the imperfections and spots
appear. But, if men would come forth into the presence of his Majesty, who
turns darkness into light, and before whom hell is naked,—O how base and
vile would they appear in their own eyes! Is it any wonder that the
multitude of you see not yourselves, when holy Isaiah and Job had this
lesson to learn? Isaiah gets a discovery of his own uncleanness in the
sight of God’s glorious holiness, (chap. vi. 5,) which I think made all
his former light darkness. He cries out “unclean,” as if he had never
known it before, and so Job, “Since I saw thee I abhorred myself in dust
and ashes.” Ye hear much of him, and it doth not abase you, but if ye saw
him, ye would not abide yourselves; ye would prefer the dust you tread on
to yourselves. Ye who know most, there is a mystery of iniquity in your
hearts, that is not yet discerned, ye are but yet on the coast of that
bottomless sea of abomination and vileness. Among all the aggravations of
sin, nothing doth so demonstrate the folly, yea, the madness of it, as the
perfection, goodness, and absolute unspottedness of God. It is this that
takes away all pretence of excuse, and leaves the same nothing—no place in
which to hide its confusion and nakedness and shame. And therefore it is
that Moses, when he would convince this people of their ways, and make
them inexcusable, draws the parallel of God’s ways and their ways,
declares what God is, how absolutely perfect in himself, and in his works,
who had given no cause of provocation to them to depart from him, and
then, how odious must their departing be! When both are painted on a board
before their eyes it makes sin become exceedingly sinful. When the Lord
would pierce the hearts of his people, and engrave a challenge with the
point of a diamond, he useth this as his pen,—“Have I been a wilderness
unto Israel? a land of darkness? Why say my people, We are lords, we will
come no more to thee?” Jer. ii. 31. “What iniquity have your fathers
found in me, that they are gone far from me, and have walked after
vanity?” Jer. ii. 5.
There are two things in sin that exceedingly abuse the creature,—the
iniquity of it, and the folly and madness of it. It is contrary to all
equity and reason to depart from him that hath made us, and given us a
law, to whom we are by so many obligations tied, but what is the folly and
madness of it, to depart from the fountain of living waters, and dig
broken cisterns that can hold none? verse 13. This is a thing that the
heavens may be astonished at, and, if the earth had sense to understand
such a thing, the whole fabric of it would tremble for horror at such
madness and folly of reasonable souls and this evil hath two evils in
it,—we forsake life and love death, go from him and choose vanity. It is
great iniquity to depart without an offence on his part. He may appeal to
all our consciences, and let them sit down and examine his way most
narrowly,—“What iniquity have ye found in me? What cause have ye to leave
me!” But when withal he is a living fountain, he is our glory, he is a
fruitful land, a land of light, our ornament and attire, in a word, our
life and our consolation, our happiness and our beauty; what word shall be
found to express the extreme madness of men to depart from such an one,
and change their glory into that which doth not profit? If either he were
not a fountain of living waters, or if there were any fountain beside,
that could yield water to satisfy the insatiable desires of men, it were
more excusable, but what shadow shall be found to cover such an iniquity
that is both infinite sin, and incompatable loss? It is the scripture’s
style given to natural men, “fools and simple.” All sin hath folly in it,
but the people of God’s departing from him hath extremity of folly in it,
beside iniquity, because they do embrace a dunghill instead of a throne,
they make the maddest exchange that can be imagined, glory for shame, life
for death,—at least, consolation and peace, for vanity and vexation and
anguish of spirit.
If ye would be duly affected with the sight of your own evils, look upon
them in this consideration, and, in the view of God, your large portion,
ye will be forced to confess yourselves beasts in his sight, Psal. lxxiii.
22. Oh! that men would consider how good and blessed the Lord is, how he
is alone, and nothing beside him in heaven and earth,—all broken cisterns,
all dung and unprofitable, all vanity and vexation,—he only
self-sufficient, all others insufficient, and therefore a proportioned
good for our necessity and desires, and I am sure ye would be constrained
to cry out with David, “Whom have I in heaven but thee, or in the earth
beside thee? It is good for me to draw near to God.” Ye would look on
drawing near, and walking with him, and before him, not only as the most
reasonable thing, but the best thing, most beautiful for you, most
profitable for you, and all other ways would be looked on as the ways of
death.
“His work is perfect.” The Lord looked, and behold all was good that was
made. So it was at first. The fabric of this world was an exquisite and
perfect work, a suitable demonstration of his infinite wisdom, wonderful
in all the parts of it, and in the unity and harmony of the whole. But so
also his work of providence is perfect. Divine wisdom hath framed and
contrived all, and it cannot be better. If anything seem imperfect in
itself, yet it is perfect in relation to his glorious ends he directs it
unto. And so would we look on all the works among us. If anything seemed a
spot and disgrace of the creation, certainly the sin of men and
angels,—nay, but even that is so ordered by his holy sovereignty, that in
relation to his majesty, it may be called a perfect work. If ye do but
consider what a glorious high throne he hath erected to himself for
justice and judgment to be the habitation of it, and mercy and truth to go
before it upon the ruins of defaced man, what a theatre of justice he hath
erected upon the angels fall, ye would call it as perfect a work as is in
the world. His work is one in the world, subordinate to one great design
of manifesting his own glorious justice and mercy, omnipotency and wisdom.
Now what do ye see of it but parcels? Though ye comprehend all your time
in one thought, yet certainly ye cannot judge it aright, for it is but one
work that all the several buildings and castings down, all the several
dispensations of his providence, from the beginning to the end, make up,
and when we think upon these disjoined, limit our consideration within the
bounds of our own time, can we rightly apprehend it? Nay, which is worse,
we use to have no more within the compass of our thought, but some present
thing, and how much more do we err then? What beauty, what perfection can
such a small part have? But it is present to him, who beholds with a
glance all these parts. Though succeeding in many generations, he sees it
altogether, joins the end with the beginning, sees the first mould, the
first foundation stone, and the last completing, all flowing from himself,
and returning thither, and ending in himself. He hath made an interchange
in nature, which might teach us—the night alone hath no beauty. Nay, but
it beautifies the day. Your darkest hours and tempests, public and
personal, are they perfect works? Yes, certainly, if ye compound them with
your sunshines and calms. Several colours make pictures beautiful,—the one
is as needful as the other, and if ye did consider your profit more than
your honour and pleasure, ye would say so. He doth not model his works
according to our fancy to please us, but our good to profit us, and he is
wiser than we, and so then it is the most perfect work in itself, that
possibly displeaseth us most. Therefore ye would judge of his dealing by
another rule than your own satisfaction, for please you and perish you. If
he spared the rod, he should hate us indeed, fond love is real hatred.
Christians, if ye would judge his works by his word, and not by your
sense,—by your well, and not by your will, certainly we would say, as the
men did of Christ, “He hath done all well.” The world would discover to
you a perfection, even in imperfection, a perfection in infirmities, that
ye should not only rejoice in them, but glory in them. “Most gladly
therefore will I glory,” &c. saith Paul. Are infirmities a perfect work?
Or is the suffering of Paul, to be buffetted and tempted, a perfect work?
What comfort is in it? Yes, much. Infirmities alone are infirmities
indeed, nay but infirmities in me, and strength in Jesus, weakness in me,
and strength dwelling in me,—these make up one perfect work that could as
little want the infirmities as the strength. The glory of God, and our
well and consolation, require the one, as well as the other, they could
not be complete without any of them. What do ye think of the times now?
Are England’s apostacy, and Ireland’s desolation,(262) perfect works? That
great work of reformation, that seemed to be above our shoulders, is now
razed to the ground, and the very foundations removed? Is deformation a
perfect work? Certainly, if we look on these things in the scripture’s
light, and consider them in relation to him who is the chief builder, and
doth in heaven and earth what he pleaseth, that deformation is a perfect
work, though not a perfect reformation. Though we could not inform you of
the perfection of it, yet the general might silence us; all this shall be
no miss, no mar in the end. His work, at the end of accounts, shall
appear so complete, as if it had never had interruption. He is wise, and
knows what he doth, if this were not for his glory and his people’s good,
certainly it should not be. Was not the people wandering in the
wilderness forty years a most strange work—a longer interruption of the
expected and begun voyage out of Egypt? What human reason would have
styled this work with perfection? Did they not often murmur against it?
Yet Moses calls this a perfect work also. What if the Lord be digging the
ground deeper in England, that the foundation may be the surer? What if
he be on a work of judgment, filling the cup of many deluded blasphemers,
that he may have another cup of wrath prepared? What if this be his great
purpose, to execute vengeance upon a profane generation, that will not
abide the very name and form of godliness, by those who pretend to the
name of it as their honour? What if the Lord hath defaced all that this
kingdom was instrumental in building up in England, that he alone may have
the glory in a second temple more glorious?(263) Many things there may be
in his mind, and “he is in one mind, and who can turn him? and what his
soul desireth, even that he doth, and this may be enough to satisfy us, he
sees and knows all his works from the beginning.”
And without all controversy he hath provided it so, that the reproach of
his name shall be made up with(264) the more shining of his glory, and the
afflictions of his people shall be compensed with songs of deliverance.
May ye not give him so much credit, as ye would give to a skilful man in
his own trade? Ye know it is his name, “excellent in counsel, and
wonderful in working.” Then take his work, expound it according to his
word, and not your apprehension. It may be his work appears not
excellent, nay, but if ye knew his counsel, ye would think it so. His
wonderful counsel makes all his works excellent, and therefore do not take
upon you to judge his works unless ye could wade the depth of his
counsels, else ye declare yourselves to be both ignorant and presumptuous.
“There is a time to build, and a time to cast down, a time for every
thing,” saith the wise man. Now, I say, he knows the time and season, he
does every thing in his time. If ye come by a workman that is casting
down a house that in your appearance seems good, would ye condemn him
presently? No, but stay till ye see what he will do next, wait till the
due time, and when ye see a better piece of workmanship on that ground, ye
shall absolve him. Though God often change his work, do not think he
changes his counsel and purposes as men do, no, “he is in one mind, and
who can turn him?” Therefore he had that change in his mind when he made
the work, when he erected such a throne, he had this in his mind to cast
it down within such a space, and so his change—his throwing down—is as
perfect in his mind, as his building up. Ye have large and big
apprehensions of temporal kingdoms and crowns of government, and such
like, as if they were great, yea, only things, but they are not so to him.
All this world and its standing, all the kingdoms and their affairs are
not his great work and business. He hath a great work, the bringing of
many sons to glory, and the completing of Jesus Christ; building of that
glorious mystical building, the holy temple made up of living stones, of
which Christ is the foundation, and chief corner-stone both, and it is
this that he attends to most. Other works among men, though they have more
noise, they are less concerned. All these are but in the by, and
subservient to his great design, and like the scaffolds of a building,
that are, it may be, sometimes very needful. Nay, but when the building is
completed, he shall remove all these, he hath no more use of them: kings
shall be thy nurse fathers, kings shall bow to thee. He is not much
concerned in government nor in governors, but for his little flock’s sake,
and if these were gathered, all these shall have an end, and the flock
alone abide for ever.
“And all his ways are judgment.” This is to the same purpose,—his ways and
his works are one. And this is the perfection of his work, that it is all
right and equal; whether they be in justice or mercy, they are all
righteous and holy, no iniquity in them, his ways are straight and equal,
exact as if they were measured by an exact even rule, but because we make
application of a crooked rule to them, we do imagine that they are
crooked, as the blind man judges no light to be, because he sees it not.
How may the Lord contend and plead with us, as with that people, Ezek.
xviii. 25. Is it possible that any can challenge him and clear themselves,
who will be justified of all when he is judged, and before whom no flesh
can be justified? And yet, behold the iniquity of men’s hearts. There is a
secret reflection of our spirits upon his Majesty, as if his ways were not
equal, whenever we repine against them, and when we do not take with our
iniquity, and stop our mouths with dust. Behold, the Lord will assert his
own ways, and plead with all flesh this controversy, that all his
proceedings are full of equity. He walks according to a rule, though he be
not tied to a rule. He walks according to the rules of wisdom, justice,
and mercy, though his illimited sovereignty might be a sufficient ground
of clearing of all his proceedings. But we walk not according to a rule,
though we be bound to a rule, and a rule full of equity.
Here is the equity and justice of his ways, the gospel holds it forth in a
twofold consideration. _First_, If any man turn from his iniquity, and
flee unto my Son as the city of refuge, he shall live, he hath eternal
life, iniquity shall not be his ruin, although he hath done iniquity. O
“who is a God like unto thee, that pardoneth iniquity!” Is not this
complete mercy? Whatever iniquity hath been, aggravate it as ye can,
though it could have ruined a world yet it could not have ruined thee that
turnest in to Jesus Christ from iniquity. What exception can all the world
have against this, or his walking according to it? And _on the other
hand_, whosoever continueth in sin, though he appear to himself and others
never so righteous, if he entertain and love any known sin, and will not
part with it for Jesus Christ, shall not he die in his iniquity? Is there
any iniquity in this, that he receive the wages of his works—his reward
that he eat of the fruit of his own ways, and drink of his own devices?
But how many hearts censure this way as a rigid and strict severe dealing!
The multitude think it cruelty to condemn any christened soul—to put so
many in hell. The civil man will think it is too hard measure that he
should be ranked in hell with the profane. But certainly, all mouths shall
be stopped one day, and he shall be justified when he judges. Ye that will
not justify him in his sayings, and set to your seal to the truth of the
word, you shall be constrained to justify him, when he executes that
sentence. Ye shall precipitate your own sentence, and rather wonder at his
clemency in suffering you so long.
This way of the Lord is equal and right in itself, but it is not so to
every one. The just man shall walk in it and not stumble; as in an even
way, nothing shall offend him, Hosea xiv. last verse. Yet for as equal and
straight as it is, many other transgressors shall fall therein; they
stumble even in the noon-day and highway, where no offence is. It is true,
often his own people stumble in it, as David, Psal. lxxiii, and xciv.
David’s foot was slipping, yet a secret hold was by mercy. It often
requires a wise and prudent man to understand it, because his footsteps
are in the deep waters; Psal. lxxxvii. 19. His way is in the depths of the
sea, his paths in great waters, so that men must wait till the Lord
expound his own ways, till he come out of the waters, and make them a dry
plain. And this is our advantage; the word says, “He is near thee, in thy
mouth, and neither above, nor beneath in the depths, that thou needest
neither descend nor ascend to know it,” Deut. xxx. 11-14. But his way is
in the depths, and his footsteps are not known, so that we ought to hold
us by the word till he expound his work. His word will teach us our duty,
and we may commit unto him his own way; the word is a commentary to
expound his ways. David lost the sight of God’s footsteps and was like to
wander, till he came to the sanctuary, and this shined as a candle in a
dark place; he learned there to know the unknown footsteps and to follow
them. By all means embrace the word, and be satisfied with it, when ye do
not comprehend his work; it teaches as much in general, as may put us to
quietness; all his ways are judgment, just and true in all his ways is the
King of saints. If I do not comprehend how it is,—no wonder, for he makes
darkness his covering, he spreads over his most curious engines and pieces
of workmanship a vail of darkness for a season; and “who can behold him
when he hides himself?” says Job; and though he withdraw the covering, yet
what am I? “Who can by searching find out God?” If I shall examine his
way, what rule shall I take to try it by? If I measure by my shallow
capacity, or by my crooked way, shall I have any just account of it? Will
my arm measure the heavens as his doth? If I examine it, or try it by
himself, he is high as heaven and unsearchable. Therefore it becomes us to
hearken to his word, and believe its sentence of his work, when reason
cannot comprehend it.
One thing, if it were deeply engraven on our hearts, would be a principle,
of settling our spirits, in all the mysteries and riddles of
providence,—the knowledge and faith of his sovereignty, of his highness,
and of his wisdom. Should he give account of his matters to us? He is wise
and knows his works; but is he bound to make us know them? His ways are
above our thoughts and ways, as heaven is above the earth, Isa. lv. And
therefore, O grasshopper in the earth, that dwelleth in tabernacles of
clay, do not presume to model his ways according to thy conceptions. One
thing is certain,—this is enough for faith, “all his ways are mercy and
truth to those that keep his covenant and his testimonies,” Psal. xxv. 10.
And there is no way or path of God so far above our reach, and
unsearchable, as his mercy in pardoning sin; and this is only the
satisfying answer to all your objections and scruples. In these ye do but
vent your own thoughts: but says the Lord, my thoughts are above your
thoughts, as heaven above earth. Ye but speak of your own ways, but my
ways are far above yours, they are not measured by your iniquity; and
therefore, David subjoins, Psal. xxv. ver. 11, “Pardon my iniquity, for it
is great.”
Sermon III.
Deut. xxxii. 4, 5.—“He is the rock, his work is perfect. For all
his ways are judgment. A God of truth, and without iniquity, just
and right is he. They have corrupted themselves, their spot is not
the spot of his children. They are a perverse and crooked
generation.”
“All his ways are judgment,” both the ways of his commandments and the
ways of his providence, both his word which he hath given as a lantern to
men’s paths, and his works among men. And this were the blessedness of
men, to be found walking in his ways, and waiting on him in his ways,
having respect to all his commandments, and respect to himself in all his
works. We all know in general that he doth all well, and that all his
commandments are holy and just. Nay, but our practice and affections belie
our knowledge; and for the most part, we stand cross in our humours, and
affections, and conversation, both to his word and providence, and this is
our misery. “Great peace have they that love thy law.” What peace then can
keep that heart and mind that is daily at variance with his statutes and
judgments, when the heart would wish such a command were not, when it is
an eyesore to look upon it? “Blessed are the meek.” “It is good for a man,
both quietly to wait, and hope, and keep silence.” How then must that
spirit be miserable, that stands cross unto God’s dispensations, and would
limit the Holy One! Do not our hearts often say, “I do well to be angry,
why is it thus with me?” But, “who hath hardened himself against him and
prospered?” His counsel must stand; and you may vex yourself, and disquiet
your soul in the mean time, by impatience, but you cannot by your thought
add one cubit to your stature. You may make your case worse than
providence hath made it, but you cannot make it better by so doing, so
that at length you must bow to him or be broken. Oh then that this were
engraven on our hearts with the point of a diamond! “All his ways are
judgment;” that ye might be overcome with the equity of his command and
dispensation, and your heart and tongue might not move against them. It
was enough of old with the saints, “It is the Lord, let him do what seems
good in his eyes.” God’s sovereignty alone pondered, may stop our mouth;
but, if ye withal consider, it is perfect equity that rules all, it is
divine wisdom that is the square of his works; then how ought we to stoop
cheerfully unto them! One thing, ye would remember, his ways and paths are
judgment, and if you judge aright of him, ye must judge his way and not
his single footsteps. Ye will not discern equity and judgment in one step
or two; but consider his way, join adversity with prosperity, humbling
with exalting; take along the thread of his providence, and one part shall
help you to understand another. There is reason in all, but the reason is
not visible to us in so small parts of his way and work.
“A God of truth.” Strange it is that his majesty is pleased to clothe
himself with so many titles and names for us. He considers what our
necessity is, and accordingly expresses his own name. I think nothing doth
more hold forth the unbelief of men, and atheism of our hearts, than the
many several titles that God takes in scripture. There is a necessity of a
multitude of them, to make us take up God; because we staying upon a
general notion of God, rather frame in our imaginations an idol than the
true God. As there is nothing doth more lively represent the unbelief of
our hearts, than the multitude of promises; men that consider such
frequent repetitions of one thing in scripture, so many divers expressions
of one God, may retire into their own hearts, and find the cause of it,
even the necessity of it. But while we look so slightly on these, we must
judge it superfluous and vain. Needed there any more to be said, but, “I
am your God, I am God,” if our spirits were not so far degenerated unto
atheism and unbelief? Certainly that word _Jehovah_ holds forth more to
angels than all the inculcated names and titles of God to us, because we
are dull and slow of heart. Therefore wonder at these two when ye read the
scriptures, God’s condescendency to us, and our atheism and unbelief of
him: they are both mysteries, and exceeding broad. There is not a name of
God, but it gives us a name, and that of reproach and dishonour, so that
for every one, some evil may be written down. And it is to this purpose
Moses draws them out in length, that in the glass of his glorious name,
the people might behold their own ugly face. This name is clear, “he is a
God of truth,” not only a true God, but truth itself: to note his
excellency and eminency in it. It is Christ’s name, “I am the truth,” the
substantial truth, in whom all the promises are truth, “are yea and amen.”
His truth is his faithfulness in performing his promises, and doing what
his mouth hath spoken: and this is established “in the very heavens,”
Psal. lxxxix. 2. His everlasting purpose is in heaven where he dwells; and
if any man can ascend up to heaven, if any creature can break through the
clouds, then may his truth be shaken. His word comes down among men; nay,
but the foundation of it is in heaven, and there is his purpose
established; and therefore, there is nothing done in time can impair or
hinder it. Ye think this world very sure, the earth hangs unmoveable,
though it hang upon nothing. All the tumults, confusions, and reels which
have been in the world have never moved it to the one side. Heaven goeth
about in one tenour perpetually, keeping still the same distance. Nay, but
his truth is more established than so. Heaven and earth depend but upon a
word of command, he hath said, “Let it be so,” and so it is. Nay, but his
word is more established. Of it saith Christ, one jot or tittle of it
cannot fail, though heaven and earth should fail. He may change his
commands as he pleases, but he may not change his promise, this puts an
obligation on him, as he is faithful and true, to perform it, and when an
oath is superadded, O how immutable are these two!—when he promises in his
truth and swears in his holiness. Is there any power in heaven and earth
can break that double cord? Matth. v. 18, Heb. vi. 18. There is no name of
God but it is comfortable to some, and as terrible to others. What comfort
is it to a godly man that trusts in his word, he is a God of truth! An
honest man’s word is much, his oath is more. What shall his word be who is
a God of truth? Though all men should be liars, yet God is true. Ye who
have ventured your souls on his word, ye have an unspeakable advantage,
his truth endures for ever, and it is established in the heavens, the
ground of it is without beginning, the end of it without end. Ye are more
sure than the frame of heaven and earth, for all these shall wax old as a
garment. We speak of a naked word of truth, indeed it is no naked word
that is God’s word. His works of providence, and his dispensation to you,
is a naked and bare foundation, nay, a sandy foundation, and ye who lean
so much to them, is it any wonder ye so often shake and waver? All other
grounds beside the word are uncertain, unstable, this only endures for
ever. The creature’s goodness and perfection is but as the grass, and the
flower of the field. Venture not much on your dispositions and frames,
thou knowest not what a day may bring forth, but his truth is to all
generations, and it is well tried as gold seven times,—all generations
have tried it and found it better than pure gold. His dispensations are
arbitrary—no rule to you. He loveth to declare his sovereignty here and to
expatiate in the creature’s sight beyond its conceiving, but he hath
limited himself in his word and come down to us, and laid bonds on
himself. Will he then untie them for us? Give him liberty where he loves
it, take him bound where be binds himself. How may God expostulate with
this generation, as those of little faith? “How long shall I be with you?”
saith Christ. How long will Christians tempt the Lord in seeking signs,
and will not rest upon his only word and promises? “O adulterous
generation, how long shall I be with you and ye will not believe?” Is it
not righteousness in him, either to give you no sign at all, or to give
you a sign darker than the thing itself, as he did to the Pharisees? Ye
will give credit to a man’s word, and will ye not believe God’s? An honest
man will get more trust of us, than the true and living God! Shall he not
be offended with this? We declare it unto you, that he is truth itself,
and will not fail in his promise, let that be your castle and refuge to
enter into. Mercy and truth are two sweet companions to go along with you
in your pilgrimage. David prayed for them Psal. lxi. 7. “O prepare thy
mercy and truth to preserve me.” Who will not be safe within these
everlasting arms? What power can break through them? And this he promised
to himself, (Psal. lvii. 3.) God shall send them out. Mercy made so many
precious promises, and truth keeps them. Mercy is the fountain and source
of all our consolation, and truth and faithfulness convey it to us, and
keep it for us. It is these two that go before his face when he sits on a
throne of majesty, and makes himself accessible to sinners (Psalm lxxxix.
14,) and so they are the pathway he walks in towards those who seek him,
Psalm xxv. 10.
But this sweet and precious name, that is as ointment poured forth to
those who love him, how doth it smell of death to those who walk contrary
to him? “He is a God of truth” to execute his threatenings on those who
despise his commands, and though ye flatter yourselves in your own eyes,
and cry, “Peace, peace,” even though ye walk in the imagination of your
own heart, yet certainly “he is a God of truth.” I pray you read that sad
and weighty word, that will be like a millstone about many men’s necks to
sink them in hell, Deut. xxix. 20, 21, ye who “add drunkenness to thirst,”
whose rule of walking is your own lust, and whatsoever pleaseth you,
without respect of his commands, and yet flatter yourselves with a dream
of peace, know this for a truth, “the Lord will not spare thee, he that
made thee will not have mercy on thee. His jealousy will smoke against
thee, and all the curses written in this book shall be upon thee, and thy
name shall be blotted out from under heaven.” It was unbelief of God’s
threatening that first ruined man, it is this still that keeps so many
from the remedy, and makes their misery irrecoverable. The serpent brought
them to this question, “Hath God said ye shall die.” And then presently
the question entertained becometh a conclusion, Ye shall not surely die.
Thus ye see how the liar, from the beginning, was contrary to the God of
truth, and he murdered us by lying of that God of truth, and it is the
same that shuts out all hope of remedy. Ye do not as yet believe and
consider that curse that was pronounced against Adam, but is now also
inflicted upon us, therefore, there is no solid belief can be of the
promises of the gospel, and ye who think ye believe the gospel, do but
indeed fancy it, except ye have considered the true curse of God on all
flesh. But if any man have set to his seal that God is true in his
threatening, and subscribed unto the law, then, I beseech you, add not the
unbelief of the gospel unto your former disobedience. He is “a God of
truth,” in promises and threatenings. It is strange how untoward and
froward we are,—a perverse generation. We do not believe his threatenings,
but fancy we receive his promises, or else, believing his threatenings we
question his promises. But know this for a truth, his last word is more
weighty, and the unbelief of it is most dangerous. Ye have not kept his
commands, and so the curse is come upon you? Do ye believe that? If ye do,
then the gospel speaks unto you, the God of truth hath one word more, “He
that believes shall be saved,” notwithstanding of all his breaking of the
law. If ye do not set your seal to this also, then ye say he is not a God
of truth, ye say he is a liar. And as for you who have committed your
souls to him, as to a faithful keeper, and acquiesced unto his word of
promise for salvation, think how unsuitable it is for you to distrust him
in other lesser things. Ye have the promise of this life, whoever hath the
promises of the life to come. Therefore do not make him a liar in these.
He is “a God of truth,” and will let you want no good thing. “Say to the
righteous, it shall be well with him, whatever be.” Let heaven and earth
mix through other, yet ye may be as mount Sion unmoved in the midst of
many floods, because of the promises.
“Without iniquity.” Who doubts of that, say ye? What needs this be added?
Who charges him with iniquity or sin? Nay, but stay and consider, and you
shall find great weight in this. It is true, none dare charge him openly,
or speak in express terms against his holiness, yet, if we judge of our
own and other’s practices and dispositions, as the Lord useth to construct
of them, if we resolve our murmurings, impatience, self absolutions, and
excuses to hold off convictions, into plain language, if we would
translate them into a scripture style, certainly it will be found that the
most part of men, if not all, use to impute iniquity to God, and accuse
him rather than take with accusations laid against themselves. And
therefore the Lord useth to go to law with his people. He who is the judge
of the world, that cannot do unrighteousness, he who is the potter, and we
all the clay, yet he so far condescends to us for convincing us, as
sometimes to refer the controversy between him and his people to other
creatures, as Micah vi. 2. He calls the mountains and the foundations of
the earth to judge between him and his people, and sometimes he appeals
unto their own consciences and is content, though judge, to stand and be
judged by those who were guilty, as ver. 3 and Jer. ii. ver. 5, and 31.
All this supposes, that when the Lord would endeavour to convince them of
iniquity, they did rather recriminate, and took not with their own faults.
This is a truth generally acknowledged by all, “He who is the judge of the
world doth no iniquity,” but O! that ye considered it, till the meditation
of it were engraven on your spirits, the seal of God’s holiness, that ye
might fear before him, and never call him to account for his matters. Who
can say, I have purged my heart from iniquity? Among men the holiest are
defiled with it, and so are all their actions. But here is one that ye may
give him an implicit faith so to speak, he is “a God of truth,” and can
speak no lie, he does no iniquity, and cannot do wrong to any man. Would
there be so much impatience amongst you, and fretting against his
dispensations, if ye believed this solidly? Would ye repine against his
holy and just ways, were it not to charge God with iniquity? Your
murmuring and grudging at his dispensations is with child of blasphemies,
and he who can search the reins sees it, and constructs so of it. You say
by interpretation, that if ye had the government of your own matters, or
of kingdoms, ye would order them better than he doth. How difficult a
thing is it to persuade men to take with their own iniquity! O how many
excuses and pretences, how many extenuations are used that this conviction
may not pierce deeply! But all this speaks so much blasphemy,—that
iniquity is in God. Ye cannot take with your own iniquities, but ye charge
his Majesty with iniquity.
“Just and right is he.” Is this any new thing? Was it not said already,
that he is “without uniquity, and his ways judgment?” But, alas! how
ignorant are we of God, and slow of heart to conceive of him as he is,
therefore is there “line upon line, and precept upon precept,” and name
upon name, if it be possible, that at length we may apprehend God as he
is. Alas! our knowledge is but ignorance, our light darkness, while it is
shut up in the corner of our mind, and shines not into the heart, and hath
no influence on our practice. And the truth is, the belief of divine
truths is almost no more but a not contradicting them, we do not seriously
think of them as either to consent to them, or deny them. Is there any
consideration amongst us now of God’s justice and righteousness, though it
be frequently spoken of? And what advantage shall we have if ye do not
consider them? O how hard is it to persuade men’s hearts of this, that God
is just, and will by no means acquit the guilty? There are so many
delusions drunk in in men’s hearts, contrary to his truth. “Let no man
deceive you,” “be not deceived” with vain words, “know ye not,” saith our
apostle. These are strange prefaces. Would ye not think the point of truth
subtile that there needed so much prefacing unto it? and yet what is it?
Even that which all men grant,—God’s wrath comes on the children of
disobedience, but, alas! few men consider, but deceive themselves with
dreams of escaping it. Though men know it, yet they know it not, for they
walk as if they knew no such thing.
Always however this is of little moment to affect our spirits now, yet in
the day that God shall set your iniquities before your face, and set his
justice also before your eyes. O how sad and serious a thing will it be
then! If these two verses were engraven on our hearts,—God’s justice and
holiness, our corruption and vileness,—I think there would be other
thoughts among us than there are.
Sermon IV.
Deut. xxxii. 5.—“They have corrupted themselves; their spot is not
the spot of his children; they are a perverse and crooked
generation.”
We doubt this people would take well with such a description of themselves
as Moses gives. It might seem strange to us, that God should have chosen
such a people out of all the nations of the earth, and they to be so
rebellious and perverse, if our own experience did not teach us how free
his choice is, and how long-suffering he is, and constant in his choice.
His people are called to a conformity with himself, “Be ye holy, for I am
holy,” (Lev. chap. xix. and xx.) and to a deformity and separation from
the rest of the world in their conversation, from whom God had separated
them in profession and privileges, Lev. xviii. 24. But behold what
unlikeness there is between God and his people. If ye were to paint out to
the life a heathen people, you needed no other image or pattern to copy at
but this same description of this people. It is this that makes Moses in
the preface turn to the heavens and earth, and call them to hear his song,
and Isaiah begins his preaching thus, “Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O
earth, &c.” A strange thing it must be, that senseless creatures are
called to wonder at. It must surpass all the wonders and prodigies of
nature and art. And what is that? “I have nourished and brought up
children, and they have rebelled against me,” &c. If we consider what this
people seemed once to be, and thought themselves to be, we may easily know
how they corrupted themselves. If ye look on them at one time, (Exod. xix.
8, Deut. v. 27,) ye would call them children. There was never a fairer
undertaking of obedience than this, “All that the Lord hath spoken we will
do,” so that the Lord commends them for speaking well, verse 28, “They
have well said all that they have spoken,” verse 29, “O that there were
such an heart in them!” But compare all this people’s practice with this
profession, and you shall find it exceeding contrary; they indeed
corrupted themselves, though they got warning to take heed of it. “Take ye
therefore good heed unto yourselves, lest ye corrupt yourselves,” Deut.
iv. 15, 16. But alas, it was within them that destroyed them; there was
not such a heart in them as to hear and obey, but they undertake, being
ignorant of their own deceitful hearts, which were desperately wicked. And
therefore, behold what corruption ensued and followed upon such a
professed resolution. They never sooner promised obedience, but they
disobeyed; they did abominable works, and did no good, and this is to
corrupt their way, Psalm xiv. 1, &c. We need not instance this longer in
this people, we ourselves are a sufficient proof of it. We may make this
song our own, “we have corrupted ourselves.” Once we had a fair show of
zeal for God, of love and desire of reformation of life, many solemn
undertakings were that we should amend our ways and doings, but what is
the fruit of all? Alas, we have corrupted ourselves more than they. Israel
promised, but we vowed and swore to the Most High, reformation and
amendment of life in our conversations and callings. Lay this rule to our
practices, and are we not a perverse and crooked generation? Oh! that we
were more affected with our corruptions, and were more sensible of them,
then we could not choose but mourn for our own and the land’s departing
from God. Did not every man vow and swear to the most high God to
endeavour reformation of his life, even a personal reformation?(265) But
alas, where is it? “He that is filthy” is “filthy still.” Nay, which is
worse, the evil man waxeth worse and worse. There is a great noise of a
public reformation of ordinances and worship, but alas, the deformation of
life and practice outcries all that noise. Nay, certainly all that is done
in the public, must come to no account before God since our practices
outcry it. Public reformation is abomination, where personal corruptions
do not cease. This made the Jews’ solemn days hateful, their hands were
“full of blood.” Isa. i. 15. All that ye have spent on the public will
never be reckoned, since ye will not consecrate your lives to God, will
not give your lusts up to him. Ye are his enemies in the mean time, though
you account yourselves religion’s friends. I beseech you consider your
ways. Would any of us have thought to have seen such profanity, mocking of
godliness, and ignorance in Scotland in so short a time? Nay, it is to be
feared that the day is not far off, when ye will corrupt yourselves, and
do abominable things, yea, defile yourselves as ill as the nations that
know not God.
Every man useth to impute his faults to something beside himself. Ere men
take with their own iniquity, they will charge God that gave no more
grace, but if men knew themselves, they would deduce their corruption and
destruction both from one fountain, that is, from themselves. Ignorance of
ourselves maketh us oft undertake fair, and promise so well on our own
head. What was the fountain of this people’s corruption, and apostatizing
from their professions? The Lord hints at it, Deut. v. 29, &c. “Oh that
they had such a heart.” Alas, poor people, ye know not yourselves, that
speak so well. I know thee better than thou dost thyself, I will declare
unto thee thy own thought, thou hast not such a heart as to do what thou
sayest; there is a desperate wicked heart within thee, that will destroy
thee by lying unto thee. If thou knewest this fountain of original
corruption, thou wouldest despair of doing, and say, I cannot serve the
Lord. Now here is the fountain of the land’s corruption this day. Why is
our way corrupted? Because our hearts within were not cleansed, and
because they were not known. If we had dried up the fountain, the streams
had ceased, but we did only dam it up, and cut off some streams for a
season; we set up our resolutions and purposes as an hedge to hold it in,
but the sea of the heart’s iniquity, that is above all things, hath
overflowed it, and defiled our way more than in former times. Ye thought
upon no other thing, but that presently ye would be all changed people,
and would reform without more ado,—and thus it is with you in all your
public repentances. But alas! you know not yourselves, it is still within
you which will yet corrupt you, and it was within us that hath undone us,
we were too confident of ourselves, and it is no wonder that the Lord
suffers us to prove ourselves, that we may know what is in our heart. Now,
therefore, since ye have so often tried it, I beseech you follow not such
a way again. Ye are called to deny yourselves, and to follow Christ and
this is a great part of it, that ye may never expect for any good within
yourselves, or the helping of any evil. “In me is thy help found.” Look to
the fountain of life, Jesus Christ, and despair of your own hearts, for
they are desperately wicked, so wicked, that if ye knew them, ye would
despair of them, and give them over to another hand, who can create a new
heart within you. Ye use to impute your backslidings to the times, to
temptations, to company, and such like. This is the way that men shift the
challenges of sin: the drunkard puts it on his companion, the servant on
his master that led him wrong, the people put rulers in the fault, and
absolve themselves, and rulers put one another in the wrong, and absolve
themselves. But, alas! all of us are ignorant of ourselves; it is not
times nor temptations that corrupt us, but ourselves. No man is tempted,
saith James, of God, “but every man is tempted when he is drawn away of
his own lust and enticed,” James i. 14. Temptation were no temptation, if
our hearts were not wicked hearts. Nay, many of us are ready to tempt
temptations, to provoke the devil to temptations; we cast ourselves open
to temptations. Temptations find lust within, and lust within is the
mother to conceive sin, if temptation be the father. Times do not bring
evils along with them, they do but discover what was hid before. All the
evils and corruptions you now see among us, where were they in the day of
our first love, when we were as a loving and beloved child? Have all these
risen up of late? No certainly, all that you have seen and found were
before, though they did not appear; before they were in the root, now you
see the fruit. All the apostacy and profanity that hath been vented in
these days, was all shut up within the corners of men’s hearts at the
beginning. Time and temptation hath but uncovered the heart, and made the
inside out, hath but opened a sluice to let out this sea of corruption. It
is not bred since, but seen since.
Now so it is with us, we have corrupted ourselves, and so we corrupt
ourselves still more. Backsliding cometh on as gray hairs, here and there
and is not perceived by beholders. _Nemo repente fit turpissimus_.(266) No
man becometh worst at first. There are many steps between that and good.
Corruption comes on men’s ways as in fruits, some one part beginneth to
alter, and then it groweth worse, and putrifieth and corrupteth the rest
of the parts. An apple rots not all at once, so it is with us. Men begin
at leisure, but they run post before all be done. In some one step of our
way we take liberty and think to keep the rest clean, but when that part
is corrupted, “a little leaven leaveneth the whole lump,” and all
followeth: and then he that corrupted himself, is ready to corrupt others.
“Children that are corrupters,” Isa. i. 4. Every one by his example
corrupts another, and by corrupting others they again corrupt themselves
more. Oh! how infectious an evil is sin, of a pestilentious nature, and
truly our hearts are more ready to receive such impressions, than either a
world or a devil is to make them.
“Their spot is not.” Why doth the Lord take pleasure to reckon their sins,
to describe so abominable a people? Is not this Jacob in whom he saw no
iniquity?(267) Is not this Israel, whose transgressions are not
known?(268) Certainly if this people would have charged themselves so, he
would not have done it. He loves to forget, when we remember our sins, but
he must remember them when we forget them. What is the Lord’s great
controversy with men? Here it is,—How can ye say or think that ye are not
polluted? Or if ye take with such a general, yet, why is not the
conviction of your sin and misery so deeply engraven, as to pursue you out
of all hope of remedy in yourselves, (Jer. ii. 22, 23)? “And therefore is
thine iniquity marked before me, saith the Lord.” God hath determined not
to wrong his justice. If men should go away unpunished and unjudged both,
where were his righteousness? If there were no record of men’s
transgressions, were he a righteous judge? Therefore, those who do not
judge themselves must leave judgment to him, for once the mouth of all
flesh must be stopped, and all become guilty before God. Why pleads the
Lord with man? Because man says, “I am innocent, I have not sinned, his
anger will turn away,” Jer. ii. 35. Will any speak so in terms? No indeed,
but the Lord constructs so of the most part, because they do more consider
the wrongs done to them, than their own wrongs done to God. All men
confess the general, that they are sinners, but who searches and tries his
way to find out particulars? And in as far as ye do not charge yourselves
with particular guiltiness, until ye be afraid of his anger, as long as
the consideration or your sins is so superficial and shallow, that ye
apprehend no danger of wrath, or immunity from it, certainly God will
plead with you. Justice must so far be glorified, as once to conclude you
under the sentence of death; if ye do it not now, then ye leave God to be
your judge and party. But if any man shall take with his guiltiness, till
his mouth be stopped, and condemn himself in God’s sight, I say, mercy and
grace in God must not be wronged, he that judges himself shall not be
judged of the Lord. What a fair offer is this to you all the Lord offers
to you! If ye will in time be your own judges, I will resign my judgment
to you. If you will in earnest pass the sentence, I will neither pass it
nor execute it. If ye come to the Mediator, Christ Jesus, to escape from
the wrath of a judge, you shall meet with a reconciled Father, and with
such love in him as shall hide a multitude of offences. O the depth, and
height, and breadth of that love! Well then, it shall be a sea to cast
your offences into, that shall drown them. Had not his people many spots?
Is there any man can say, I have cleansed my heart from iniquity? No, not
one. Yet behold, he sees no spots in his people. He doth not make them his
people because spotless, but he seeth them spotless, because he makes them
his people. There is no covering that can hide men’s uncleanness from his
piercing eye, but one even Jesus Christ his righteousness, and “Blessed is
he whose sins are covered.” If this covering were spread over the mouth of
all hell, then hell should have a covering from his eyes. If ye therefore
strip yourselves naked of your own pretences and leaves, and think not
yourselves secure under any created shelter. If ye hide not your iniquity,
then it shall be hid indeed, here is a covering that shall hide it from
his eyes. There is no spot so heinous, none so ingrained, but the blood of
Jesus can wash it as perfectly out, as if it had never been, Isa. i. 16,
17. Though your spots were such as are not incident to his children, yet
this blood cleanses from one and all, it is of an infinite nature. But
though it be so, that the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, that
there is a fountain opened in the house of David for sin and for
uncleanness, for sin and separation, for such heinous offences as may
separate people even from the congregation of the Lord’s people, yet there
are some sins, some spots, that ordinarily his people are not defiled
with, and in this respect they may be called holy and undefiled in the
way. There are some marks and characters of unregenerated men so legible
and express, that we may even read from men’s conversation, that they are
not the children of God. Though the blood of Christ wash from all, yet the
child of God ordinarily is kept from some kind of spots, so that if a man
shall be spotted with them it is no marvel he question if he be a child or
not. There are two, which I think so gross and unclean spots that I cannot
conceive how a soul washen by Jesus Christ can be defiled with them. One
is, a course of profanity. The common walk of the multitude is so gross
and profane, so void of God and godliness, that it witnesseth to their
face that they are not the sons of God. “He that is born of God sinneth
not; he maketh not sin his way and trade to walk into, and please himself
into.” What are the most part of you, I pray you? Is your spot like the
spot of his children? Do not ye declare your sin as Sodom, ye drunkards,
who wallow in it daily, and though ye profess repentance, yet never amend?
Ye who have a custom of swearing and blaspheming his holy name, do not ye
carry in your forehead a spot that is not like his children? The child of
God may fall in many particulars, but it is not the spot of a child to
continue in them to add drunkenness to thirst, and yet to dream of
escaping wrath. I pray you, consider it, for it is of great moment. Do ye
carry such a black mark,—the devils mark? O do not think yourselves safe.
May not this persuade you? Do but compare yourselves in your converse and
walk with an heathen without the church. Set aside your public profession
of coming to the church, and hearing the word, and church privileges, and
is the difference visible between you and them? Many of you pray no more
in secret or in your families than they. Ye curse and swear as they, ye
are covetous and worldly as they. If ye can, do but draw a line of
difference, and if ye cannot, then I ask, what are ye? Is not this the
spot of bastards? Another spot is, hatred of godliness and the godly. This
is indeed the most lively image of the devil: who hates his brother is of
the devil. He that hates the Son, can he love the Father? he that hates
him that is begotten, hates also him that begat him and he that loves him
that begat, loves him that is begotten. Now, how can he be begotten of
God, who hates that nature he is said to partake of—who hates him that is
begotten? I wonder that many of your consciences are not touched with
this? How can ye imagine ye are children of God, when there are none of
your neighbours that your heart riseth more against, that ye can less
abide, than those who seek God most diligently, whose conversation is
different from the worlds? Do not flatter yourselves, as if it were
hypocrisy ye hated. No, no ye can agree with profanity, and how can ye
hate hypocrisy? Ye can agree with a profane hypocrite—with a profane man,
that feigns and dissembles repentance but if once he were so thoroughly
changed, as to hate his former way, and forsake it, then your antipathy
beginneth. What a ridiculous thing is it for profanity to take upon it to
censure hypocrisy! Certainly if profanity cast out with hypocrisy, it must
be because it hath a form of godliness, which it so much detesteth. It is
a strange hatred at godliness that a profane man hath, that he cannot
abide the very shadow of it. I beseech you who love not holiness in your
own persons, who hate to be reformed yourselves, do not add this height of
sin to it, as to hate it in others also. If ye be not godly yourselves, do
not add this declared manifest character of a child of the devil to it, to
hate godliness in others. There were some hope of you, if ye held it in
reverence and estimation where ye saw it. There are many other spots not
incident to his children, as this, that men will not take with their sin
and the curse. It is a great difficulty to convince the most part of men
how miserable they are, how void of God. All the world will not put them
out of a good opinion of themselves, and I think this hath been the spot
of this people, they would not take with their guiltiness—a stubborn
hearted people, wholehearted. There needs no more to declare a number of
you not to be God’s children, but this,—ye have lived all your time in the
opinion and belief that ye were God’s children, that ye believed in him,
ye never saw yourselves lost and miserable. This was the spot of this
people that they esteemed themselves children, though they had many spots
that testified to their face that they were no children. They waxed worse
and worse, neither mercies nor judgments amended them. “When he slew
them,” it may be, “they sought him, and flattered him with their mouth,
but their hearts were not right with him, neither were they steadfast in
his covenant,” Psal. lxxviii. 34. Ye would have thought them a godly
people, while under the rod for a season, but all that was but extorted
and pressed out by violence of affliction, as the groans of a beast under
a burden. But a little time declared that it was but flattery, though they
thought themselves ingenuous, and therefore they returned to their old
provocations, as a sow to the puddle, or a dog to his vomit. And is not
this our spot, even the spot of great and small? If any would look upon us
in our engagements and vows under trouble, we appear like his people, a
praying, repenting, and believing people,(269) but how quickly doth all
this prove flattery? Do we not still return to our old ways that we have
been exemplarily punished for, and which we so solemnly engaged against?
The heat of the furnace dieth out, and they wax colder and harder, a
little time wears away all their tenderness. Every man seeks his own
things, and no man seeks the things of Jesus Christ. This was this
people’s sin and spot. “Jeshurun waxed fat and kicked, and lightly
esteemed the Rock of his salvation.” When their heads were lifted up to
government, when they were raised out of the waters of affliction and
poverty, then they forgat God, they oppressed the poor and needy, eat up
his people as bread, and could not abide to have their faults told them,
they said to the seers, “See not, and to the prophets, Prophesy not unto
us right things,” &c. Isa. xxx. 10. I think likewise, that oppression is
not the spot of his children, whoever uses it. And covetousness presses
men to it, when power is in their hand to compass it. This is a vile spot,
unworthy of any ruler, let be(270) a Christian. It was abhorred among
Pagans. O but it cries to heaven, saith the Scripture, it hath a double
cry when other sins cry once! The heinousness of it crieth once, and the
poor people cry again, and both these come up to the ears of the Lord of
hosts, nay, it hath the cry of murder, and another beside. He that is
greedy of gain, is said to take away the life of the owners thereof, Prov.
i, 19. So he is a murderer before God, and the poor man’s blood crieth for
vengeance, and then himself seconds it either by prayer, or crying out for
misery, Job xxxv. 9. All men’s prayers and professions will not outcry
these two. The people’s many prayers could not be heard, (Isa. i. 15),
because their hands were “full of blood,” which had a louder cry than
their prayers. The poor also oppressing the poor, is like a sweeping rain
that leaves nothing behind it.
It is read in the margin, “that they are not his children,—that is their
blot.” And indeed it is so. It is a great blot and stain in the face of
any man whoever he be, that he is not born of God—that he can reckon
kindred to none but Adam. But what indignity is it and disgrace, for a
people professing his name, yet to have no other generation, to reckon no
higher than the earth and the earthly. What is now the great blot of our
visible church? Here it is, the most part are not God’s children, but
called so; and it is the greater blot that they are called so, and are
not.(271) O poor saints, esteem your honour and high privilege; ye have
received this, to be the sons of God! It is no blot to you that you are
poor and despised in the world; but it is and shall be an eternal blot to
the great and rich, and wise in the world, that they are not the children
of God. Christianity is no blot, though it be in reproach among men, but
it is really the glory and excellency of a man; but the want of it, alas!
how doth it abase many high and noble, impoverish many rich, and infatuate
many wise! Ye think all of you are the children of God, because ye are in
the church, and partake of the ordinances and sacraments; and so did this
people. But Moses did not flatter these Jews, but told both princes and
people in their face, that they were not children of God, because only
Israel in the letter, they had not children’s manners. O that it might not
be said of the most part of you, that ye are not children of God, and that
that is your blot and shame! It is the shame of rulers not to be the
children of God. They are wise, they are active, they are noble, but one
spot disgraceth all, one fly maketh their ointment to stink, they are not
gracious, many of them, but sons of men at the farthest reckoning, are not
begotten again to a lively hope. “Not many wise, not many noble, not many
rich.” The scantiness of gracious men is the spot of judicatories,(272)
that there are many children of the world, but few children of light in
them. O how beautiful and glorious would judicatories be, if all the
members were children of light! What glory would there be, if all of them
did shine and enlightened one another! But what beauty or comeliness, what
majesty can be in rulers or judicatures, when the image of God is not in
them! This is also the spot of assemblies, synods, presbyteries, that
there are few godly ministers. Alas, that this complaint should be, even
among those whose office it is to beget many children to God! How few of
them are begotten, or have the image of their Father! And thus church
assemblies have no beauty, such as the courts of Jesus Christ should have.
O that we were in love with Christianity and grace; that it were our grand
question, how shall I be put among the children? The Lord seems to wonder
at it, and make a question of it, How can such as we be put among the
children? Jer. iii. 19. But he answers it himself, “Thou shalt call me, My
Father, and shall not turn away from me.” There is no more to do, but to
take with(273) your wanderings and wrongs done to God, embrace him in
Jesus Christ, and he becomes your Father; and if ye be children, sure ye
will resolve to abide in your Father’s house, and turn no more to a
present world, or your former lusts.
They are a “perverse and crooked generation.” What pleasure hath the Lord
in speaking thus, when he upbraids none? Certainly, in a manner it is
drawn out of him. Would he object our faults, if we did not defend them by
obstinacy? Perverseness and crookedness is obstinacy and incorrigibleness
against mercies and judgments,—“that that which is crooked cannot be made
straight,” saith Solomon. Then doth the Lord take notice of sins, when men
refuse to return, and so maintain their sins. It is this which heightens
provocations, and makes out the controversy,—perverseness in sin. It is
not ordinary common infirmities that the Lord punisheth, either in a land
or person; but when infirmities are discovered by the light of the word,
when the Lord useth means to reclaim men in his providence, and yet no
means prevail, then are they reckoned perverse. Now, perverseness is not
the spot of his children: the child of God daily bows and folds to him,
receives challenges from him, takes with iniquity and yields unto God. O
that this title might not be written above the head of this generation
deservedly—“This is a perverse and crooked generation!”
Sermon V.
Psal. lxxiii. 28.—“But it is good for me to draw near to God: I
have put my trust in the Lord God, that I may declare all thy
works.”
After man’s first transgression, he was shut out from the tree of life,
and cast out of the garden, by which was signified his seclusion and
sequestration from the presence of God, and communion with him: and this
was in a manner the extermination of all mankind in one, when Adam was
driven out of paradise. Now, this had been an eternal separation for any
thing that we could do, (for we can do nothing but depart by a perpetual
backsliding, and make the distance every day wider,) except it had pleased
the Lord, of his infinite grace, to condescend to draw near to us in
gracious promises and offers of a Redeemer. If he had not made the first
journey from heaven to earth, by sending his only Son, we should have
given over the hope of returning from earth to heaven. But he hath taken
away the greatest part of that distance, in drawing near to our nature;
yea, in assuming our flesh into the fellowship of his glorious divinity.
He hath stooped so low to meet with us, and offered himself the trysting
place(274) between God and us, a fit meeting-place, where there is a
conjunction of the interests of both parties, and now, there is no more to
do, but to draw near to God in Jesus Christ, since he hath made the great
journey to come down to us. We have not that infinite gulf of satisfaction
to justice to pass over, we have not the height of divine Majesty, as he
is infinitely above us, and offended with us, to climb up unto. Certainly
we could not but fall into the lake that is below us, if we were to aim so
high. But the Lord hath been pleased to descend to us, in our mean
capacity in the flesh, and fill up the immeasurable gulf of justice by the
infinite merits and sufferings of his Son in our flesh. And now he invites
us, he requests us, to come to him in his Son and have life. We are not
come to mount Sinai, that might not be touched, that burnt with fire and
tempest, where there were terrible sights and intolerable noises. I say,
such a God we might have had to do with a consuming fire, instead of an
instructing light,—a devouring fire, instead of a healing Sun of
righteousness, considering that there is nothing in us which is not fit
and prepared fuel for everlasting burnings. But we are come—and that is
the eternal wonder of angels—unto mount Sion to be citizens in the city of
God and fellow citizens with blessed angels and glorified spirits, to
peace and reconciliation with him who was our judge. And if you ask how
this may be? I answer, because we have one Jesus, the Mediator of the new
covenant, to come to, whose blood crieth louder for pardon of sinners than
all men’s transgressions can cry for punishment of sinners, Heb. xii.
18-20, &c.
Let us then consider the first step and degree of union with God,—it
consists in faith in Jesus Christ. This is the first motion of the soul in
drawing near to God, for, as there is no remission without blood, so no
access to God without a mediator. For if you consider what is in Jesus
Christ, you will find that which will engage the desire of the heart, as
also that which will give boldness and confidence to act that desire.
Eternal life is promised and proposed in him,—he offers rest to weary
souls, and hath it to give. That which we ignorantly and vainly seek
elsewhere, here it is to be found. For personal excellencies, he is the
chief infinitely beyond comparison, and for suitableness to us and our
necessities, all the gospel is an expression of it, so that he is
presented in the most attractive drawing manner that can be imagined. And
then, when the desires are inflamed, yet if there be no oil of hope to
feed it, it will soon cool again. Therefore, take a view again, and you
may have boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus. There
was some kind of distance kept in the Old Testament,—none but the high
priest might enter into the holiest place, but the entry of our High
Priest into it, that is, into heaven, hath made it patent to all that come
to him and apply his blood. There is a new and living way by the holy
flesh of Christ, consecrated and made, of infinite value and use, by the
divinity of his person, and, therefore, having such a one of our kindred
so great with God, we may draw near with a true heart and full assurance
of faith, having our consciences sprinkled, &c, Heb. x. 18-20, &c. Now,
since the way is made plain to you, and the entry is opened up in the
gospel, do you not find your hearts stir within you to draw near to him?
Do you not find a necessity of making peace by such a Mediator? O that ye
knew the great distance between God and your natures, and what the hazard
is, “Lo! they that are far from thee shall perish,” then certainly you
would take hold of this invitation, and be easily drawn unto Jesus Christ.
But unto you who have adventured to draw near for pardon of sin in Christ,
I would recommend unto you that you would draw yet nearer to God. After
that the partition wall of wrath and condemnation is removed, yet there is
much darkness in your minds and corruption in your natures, that separates
from him, I mean, intercepts and disturbs that blessed communion you are
called unto. Therefore, I would exhort you, as James, “Draw near to God,
and he will draw near to you,” chap. iv. 8, and that, wherein this most
consists, is in studying that purification of our natures, that cleansing
of our hearts from guile, and our hands from offences, by which our souls
may draw towards a resemblance of God. This access and drawing near to God
in assimilation and conformity of nature is the great design of the
gospel. “Be ye holy, for I am holy. Now, ye are agreed, walk with him,”
(Amos iii. 3), as Enoch “walked with God,” Gen. v. 24, that is, labour in
all your conversation to set him before your eyes, and to study to be well
pleased with him in all things and to please him in all, to conform
yourselves to his pleasure in every thing. And this communion in walking
especially consists in that communication of the spirit with God in
prayer, this is the nearest and sweetest approach when the soul is lifted
up to God, and is almost out of itself in him, and this being the ordinary
exercise and motion of the soul, it exceedingly advances in the first
point of nearness, that is, in conformity with God. Drawing often near in
communion with him in prayer, makes the soul draw towards his likeness,
even as much converse of men together will make them like one another.
Now, for the commendation of this, “It is good.” What greater evil can be
imagined than separation from the greatest good? And what greater good,
than accession to the greatest good? Every thing is in so far happy and
well, as it is joined with, and enjoyeth, that which is convenient for it.
Light is the perfection of the earth, remove it, and what a disconsolate
and unpleasant thing is it! Now, truly there is nothing suitable to the
immortal spirit of man but God, and, therefore, all its happiness or
misery must be measured by the access or recess, nearness or distance, of
that infinite goodness. Therefore, is it any wonder, that all they that go
a whoring from him perish, as every man’s heart doth? For we are
infinitely bound by creation, by many other bonds stronger than wedlock,
to consecrate and devote ourselves wholly to God, but this is
treacherously broken. Every man turns aside to vanity and lies, and is
guilty of heart whoredom from God, and spiritual idolatry, because the
affection that should be preserved chaste for him is prostitute to every
base object. So then, this divorcement of the soul from God cannot but
follow thereupon, even an eternal eclipse of true and real life and
comfort. And whoever draws back from the fountain of life and salvation,
cannot but find elsewhere perdition and destruction, Heb. x. ult. My
beloved, let us set thus aside all other things which are the pursuits and
endeavours of the most part of men. Men’s natural desires are carried
towards health, food, raiment, life and liberty, peace, and such like, but
the more rational sort of men seek after some shadow of wisdom and virtue.
Yet the generality of men, both high and low, have extravagant illimited
desires towards riches, pleasure, preferment, and all that we have spoken
is enclosed within the narrow compass of men’s abode here, which is but
for a moment. So that, if it were possible that all these forementioned
desires and delights of men could attend any man for the space of an
hundred years, though he had the concurrence of the streams of the
creatures to bring him in satisfaction, though all the world should bow to
him and be subject to the beck of his authority without stroke of sword,
though all the creatures should spend their strength and wit upon his
satisfaction, yet do but consider what that shall be within some few
years, when he shall be spoiled of all that attendance, denuded of all
external comforts, when the fatal period must close his life, peace,
health, and all, and his poor soul also, that was drowned in that gulf of
pleasure, shall then find itself robbed of its precious treasure, that is,
God’s favour, and so remain in everlasting banishment from his presence.
Do ye think, I say that man were happy? Nay! O happy Lazarus, who is now
blessed in Abraham’s bosom, who enjoys an eternity of happiness for a
moment’s misery! But, my beloved, you know that it is not possible even to
attain to that imagined happiness here. All the gain that is found is not
able to quit the cost and expense of grief, vexation, care, toiling and
sweating that is about them.
But if ye would be persuaded, there is that to be found easily, which you
trouble yourselves seeking elsewhere, and believe me, though the general
apprehension of men be,—that peace, plenty, preferment, and satisfaction
in this life, to compense their pains, are more easily attainable than
fellowship and communion with God, yet I am persuaded that there is
nothing more practicable than the life of religion. God hath condemned the
world under vanity and a curse, and that which is crooked can by no art or
strength be made straight, but he hath made this attainable by his
gracious promises, even a blessed life, in approaching near to himself,
the fountain of all life. And this is a certain good, an universal good,
and an eternal good. It will not disappoint you as other things do, of
which you have no assurance for all your toilings. This is made more
infallible to a soul that truly seeks it in God. It is as certain that
they cannot be ashamed through frustration, as that he is faithful. And
then it is an universal good, one comprehensive of all, one eminently and
virtually all things created, to be joined to the infinite all fulness of
God. This advanceth the soul to a participation of all that is in him.
This is health, Psalm xlii. 11. Prov. iii. 8. This is light, John viii.
12. It is life, (John xi. 25,) liberty, (John viii. 36,) food and raiment,
(Isa. lxi. 10, and John iv. 14,) and what not? It is profit, pleasure,
preferment in the superlative degree, and not scattered in so many various
streams which divide and distract the heart, but all combined in one. It
is the true good of both soul and body, and so the only good of man. And
lastly, it is eternal, to be coetaneous with thy soul. Of all other things
it may be said, “I have seen an end of them,” they were and are not. But
this will survive time, and all the changes of it, and then it will begin
to be perfect, when all perfection is at an end. Now, from all this, I
would exhort you in Jesus Christ to ponder those things in your hearts,
and consider them in reference to your own souls, that ye may say with
David, “It is good for me to draw near to God.”
That which all men seek after, is happiness and well being. Men pursue
nothing but under the notion of good, and to complete that which may be
called good, there is required some excellency in the thing itself, and
then a conveniency and suitableness to us, and these jointly draw the
heart of man. But the great misery is, that there is so much ignorance and
misapprehension of that which is truly good, and then, when any thing of
it is known, there is so little serious consideration and application of
it to ourselves, and this makes the most part of men wander up and down in
the pursuit of divers things, which are not that true good of the soul,
and set their hearts on that which is not, until they find their hearts
fall down as wanting a foundation and then they turn about again to some
other vanity. And so the wanderings and strayings of men are infinite,
because the by ways are innumerable, though the true way be but one. Yea,
the turnings and toilings of one man are various and manifold because he
quickly loses the scent of happiness in every way he falls into and
therefore must turn to another. And thus men are never at any solid
setting about this great business, never resolute wherein this happiness
consists, nor peremptory to follow it, but they fluctuate upon uncertain
apprehensions, and diverse affections, until the time and date of
salvation expire, and then they must know certainly and surely the
inevitable danger and irrecoverable loss they have brought themselves, to,
who would not take notice of the sure way, both of escaping wrath and
attaining happiness while it was to be found.
Well, then, this is the great business we have here to do, yea, to make
the circle the larger, it is that great business we have to do in this
world, to know wherein the true well being and eternal welfare of our
souls consist and by any means to apply unto that, as the only thing
necessary, in regard of which, all other things are ceremonies,
circumstances, and indifferent things. And to guide us in this examination
and application, here is one man, who, having almost made shipwreck upon
the rocks which men commonly dash upon, and being by the Lord led safely
by, and almost arrived at the coast of true felicity, he sets out a
beacon, and lights a candle to all who shall follow him, to direct them
which way they shall steer their course. Examples teach more effectually
than rules. It is easy for every man to speak well upon this point in
general, and readily all will acknowledge that here it is, and nowhere
else. But yet all this is outcried by the contrary noise of every man’s
practice. These general grants of truth are recalled in the conversations
of men, therefore they cannot have much influence upon any man. But when
we hear one speak, and see him walk so too, when we have the example of a
most wise man, who wanted not these worldly expectations which other men
have, so that he not only propones it to us, but after much serious
advisement, after mature consideration of all that can be said of the
wicked’s best estate, and the godly’s worst, setting down resolute
conclusions for himself—“It is good for me to draw near to God,” yea, so
determinate in it, that if none of the world should be of that mind, he
would not change it,—though all should walk in other ways, he would choose
to be rather alone in this, than in the greatest crowd of company in any
other. Now, I say, when we have such a copy cast us, a man of excellent
parts in sobriety and sadness, choosing that way, which all in words
confess to be the best, should not this awake us out of our dreams and
raise us up to some more attention and consideration of what we are doing?
The words, you see, are the holy resolution of a holy heart, concerning
that which is the chiefest good. You see the way to happiness, and you
find the particular application of that to David’s soul, or of his soul to
it. We shall speak a word of the thing itself, then of the commendation of
it, then of the application of it.
For the thing itself,—drawing near to God,—it gives us some ground to take
a view of the posture in which men are found by nature, far off from God.
Our condition by nature I cannot so fitly express, as in the apostle’s
words, (Eph. ii. 12,)—“Without Christ, aliens from the commonwealth of
Israel, strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and
without God in the world.” A deplorable estate indeed, hopeless and
helpless! No hope in it, that is the extremity of misery, the refuse of
all conditions. “Without Christ, and without God.” Oh! these are words of
infinite weight: without those, without whom it is simply impossible to be
happy, and without whom it is not possible but to be miserable,—without
the fountain of light, life, and consolation, without which there is
nothing but pure darkness, without any beam of light; nothing but death,
without the least breathing of life, nothing but vexation, without the
least drop of consolation. In a word, without these, and wanting these,
whom, if you want, it were good to be spoiled of all being, to be nothing,
if that could be, or never to have been any thing. Men will seek death,
and cannot find it. O what a loss and deprivement is the loss of God,
which makes death more desirable than life, and not to be at all,
infinitely preferable to any being! Now, it is true, that the bringing in
of multitudes within the pale of the visible church, is some degree of
access and nearness to God, for then they become citizens as to external
right, in the commonwealth of the church, and have the offers of the
promises made to them, in respect of which visible standing, the apostle
speaks of the whole church of Ephesus, “but now ye are made near who were
far off,” (ver. 13,) notwithstanding, that many of them were found
afterwards to have left their first love, Rev. ii. But yet, beloved, to
speak more inwardly, and as your souls stand in the sight of God, the
generality of those who are near hand in outward ordinances are yet far
off from God in reality,—“without God and without Christ,” as really, as
touching any soul-feeling, as those who are altogether without. The bond
of union and peace was broken in paradise, sin dissolved it, and broke off
that nearness and friendship with God, and from that day to this day,
there hath been an infinite distance and separation betwixt man and God.
The steps and degrees of it are many. There is darkness and blindness in
men’s minds. Such ignorance naturally possesseth the multitude, that it
wholly alienates them from the life of God, Eph. iv. 18. For what
fellowship can light, that pure light, have with such gross darkness as is
among us? This certainly is the removal of that Sun of Righteousness from
our souls, or the imposition of the clouds of transgression, that makes it
so dark a night in the souls of men. And then there is nothing but enmity
and desperate wickedness in the heart of man, and this keeps the
stronghold of the affections, Rom. viii., Jer. xvii. There cannot be a
further elongation or separation of the soul from God, than to turn so
opposite, in all inclinations and dispositions, to his holy will, for the
distance between God and us is not local in the point of place, for
whither shall we go from him who is everywhere? And thus he is near hand
every one of us, but it is also real in the deformity and repugnancy of
our natures to his holy will. But add unto this, that being thus separated
in affection, and disjoined, as it were, in natural dispositions, we
cannot draw near to God in any ordinance,—as the word, prayer, &c. Though
we may, as that people, draw near with our lips, and ask of him our duty,
and seem to delight to know him, yet there is this natural incapacity and
crookedness in the heart of man, that it cannot truly approach unto the
Father of spirits with any soul-desire and delight. But their hearts are
removed far from me, Isa. xxix. 13, Matt. xv. 8. I think men might observe
that their souls act not in religious business as they should, but that
they remove their souls many miles distant from their bodies,—and they
cannot keep any constancy in this approach of prayer to God, cannot walk
with him in their conversation, or carry him along in their meditation.
But there is one point of estrangement and separation superadded to all,
that there is no man can come near to God without an oblation and offering
of peace, that there is no approaching to him, but as to a continuing
fire, except we can bring a sacrifice to appease, and a present to please
Him for our infinite offences. There the difference stands,—we cannot draw
near to walk together, till we be agreed. And, truly, this unto man is
impossible, for we have nothing so precious as the redemption of our
souls,—nothing can compense infinite wrongs, or satisfy infinite justice.
Now, this seems to make our nearness again desperate, and to put men
furthest off from hope.
Notwithstanding, this is the very purpose of the gospel, preached from the
beginning of the world, to remove that distance, and to take impediments
of meeting out of the way; for that great obstruction, the want of a
sacrifice and ransom, the Lord hath supplied it, he himself hath furnished
it; and it was the great design carried on from the beginning of the
world. But as the sun, the nearer he is, the more the earth is
enlightened: so here, first some dawning of light appears, as a messenger
of hope, to tell that the Redeemer shall come,—that the true sacrifice
shall be slain; then still the nearer his own appearing, the clearer are
the manifestations of him, and the great design is more opened up, till at
length he breaks out in glory from under a cloud, and shows himself to the
world, to be that Lamb of God that should take away the sins of the world.
And now, as the apostle to the Hebrews speaks, chap. vii. 19, “The law
hath made nothing perfect, but the bringing in of a better hope did, by
the which we draw nigh to God.” All the sacrifices and shadows that were
under the law did but point at this perfect ransom; and the way of access
to God through a Mediator was not so clear; but now the matter is made as
hopeful as is possible,—the partition-wall of the law’s curses,—the
hand-writing against us is removed on the cross,—the enmity slain,—the
distance removed by the blood of the cross, being partly filled up by his
descent into our nature, partly by his lower descent in our nature to
suffer death. And this is the savoury oblation that we have to present to
God, and may have boldness to come nigh because of it. And when once our
access is made by the blood of Jesus Christ, then we are called and
allowed to come still nigher, to cleave and adhere to him as our Father,
to pray unto him, to walk with him. Then we should converse as friends and
familiars together; then draw nigh to his light for illumination, and to
him as the fountain of life for quickening, to place our delight and
desire in him,—to forsake all other things, even our wills and pleasures,
and to lose them, that they may be found in his; to converse much in his
company, and be often in communication with him, and meditation upon him.
This is the very design and substance of the gospel. It holds forth the
way of making up the breach between man and God, of bringing you nigh who
are yet afar off, and nearer who are near hand. O let us hearken to it!
Sermon VI.
Prov. xxvii. 1.—“Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest
not what a day may bring forth.”
There are some peculiar gifts that God hath given to man in his first
creation, and endued his nature with, beyond other living creatures, which
being rightly ordered and improved towards the right objects, do advance
the soul of man to a wonderful height of happiness, that no other
sublunary creature is capable of. But by reason of man’s fall into sin,
these are quite disordered and turned out of the right channel; and,
therefore, as the right improvement of them would make man happy, so the
wrong employment of them loadens him with more real misery than any other
creature. I mean, God hath given to man two notable capacities beyond
other things;—one is, to know and reflect upon himself, and to consider
what conveniency is in any thing towards himself,—what goodness or
advantage redounds to himself from them, and in that reflection and
comparison to enjoy what he hath; another is to look forward beyond the
present time, and, as it were, to anticipate and prevent the slow motions
of time, by a kind of foresight and providence. In a word, he is a
creature framed unto more understanding than others, and so capable of
more joy in present things, and more foresight of the time to come. He is
made mortal, yet with an immortal spirit of an immortal capacity, that
hath its eye upon the morrow,—upon eternity. Now, herein consists either
man’s happiness or misery, how he reflects upon himself, and what he
chooseth for the matter of his joy and gloriation, and what providence he
hath for the time to come. If those be rightly ordered, all is well; but
if not, then woe unto him, there is more hope of a beast than of him.
Man’s nature inclines to boasting—to glorying in something, and this
ariseth from some apprehended excellency or advantage, and so is
originated in the understanding power of man, which is far above beasts.
Beasts find the things themselves, but they do not, they cannot reflect
upon their own enjoyment of them, and therefore they are not capable of
such pleasure; for the more distinct knowledge of things in relation to
ourselves, the more delight ensueth upon it. Many creatures have singular
qualities and virtues, but they are nothing the happier; for they know
them not, and have no use of them, but are wholly destinated to the use of
man, who therefore is only said to enjoy them, because he only is capable
of joy from them. And this, I suppose, may give us a hint at the absolute
incomprehensible blessedness, self-complacency, and delight of God. It
cannot but be immeasurably great, seeing the knowledge of himself and all
creatures is infinite; he comprehends all his own power, and virtue, and
goodness, and therefore his delight and rejoicing is answerable. There is
a glorying and boasting then that is good, which man is naturally framed
unto; and this is that which David expresses, Psal. xxxiv. 2, “My soul
shall make her boast in God;” and Psal. xliv. 8, “In God we boast all the
day long, and praise thy name for ever.” When the soul apprehends that
all-sufficiency, and self-sufficient fulness of God; what infinite
treasures of goodness, and wisdom, and power are in him, and so how
suitable and convenient he is to the condition of the soul; what a sweet
correspondence there is between his fulness and our emptiness—his mercy
and our misery—his infiniteness and our unsuitableness; that there is in
him to fill and overflow the soul: the apprehension of this cannot but in
a manner perfume the soul with the delight. You find how the senses are
refreshed, when they meet with their suitable object; how a pleasant smell
refresheth the scent; how lively and beautiful colours are delightful to
the eye. But much more here, God is the proportioned object of the
immortal spirit; he corresponds to all its capacities, and fills it with
unconceivable sweetness. But, my beloved, boasting and glorying in him,
ariseth not only from the proportionableness and conveniency of him to our
spirits; but this must be superadded,—propriety in him. Things are loved,
because excellent in themselves, or because they are our own; but we boast
in nothing, we glory in nothing, but because it is both excellent in
itself, and ours besides. It is the apprehended interest in any thing
makes the soul rise and lift up itself after this manner,—to have such a
one to be ours,—such a Lord to be our God,—one so high and sublime,—one so
universally full, to be made over to thee; here is the immediate rise of
the soul’s gloriation. And truly, as there is nothing can be so suitable a
portion, so there is nothing that can be so truly made ours as God. Of all
things a believer hath, there is nothing so much his own as God,—nothing
so indissolubly tied unto him,—nothing so inseparably joined. See Paul’s
triumph upon that account, Rom. viii. Nothing can truly be said to be the
soul’s own, but that which is not only coetaneous with it, that survives
mortality, and the changes of the body, but likewise is inseparable from
it. What a poor empty sound is all that can be spoken of him, till your
souls be once possessed of him! it cannot make your hearts leap within
you, but it cannot but excite and stir up a believer’s heart.
Now there may be a lawful kind of gloriation, rejoicing in the works of
God, consequent to the first, which is a little stream from that greater
river which runs out from it, and flows into it again. A soul that truly
apprehends God will take delight to view the works of God, which make such
an expression of him, and are a part of the magnificence of our heavenly
Father. But this is all in reference to him and not to ourselves; for then
it degenerates and loseth its sweetness, when once it turns the channel
towards the adorning of the creature. True boasting in God hath
necessarily conjoined with it an humble and low esteem of a man’s self,
Psal. xxxiv. 2, “The humble shall hear thereof, and be glad.” As humility
and self-emptiness made David go out of himself, to seek satisfaction in
God, and having found it, he boasts and triumphs, so there were none
capable of understanding his triumph, or partaking with him in his
delights, but the humble souls. Now you may perceive how far this boasting
here spoken of is degenerated from that, and so how far man’s nature is
spoiled,—“Boast not thyself,” &c. The true boasting we were created unto,
hath a sufficient foundation, even such as will bear the weight of
triumph, but that which men’s spirits are now naturally set upon, cannot
carry, cannot sound such gloriation, and therefore this boasting makes men
ridiculous. If you saw a man glorying in rags, setting forth himself to be
admired in them, or boasting in some vain, despicable, and base thing, you
would pity him, or laugh at him as one distempered. The truth is, the
natural man is mad, hath lost his judgment, and is under the greatest
distraction imaginable since the fall. That fall hath troubled his brains,
and they are never settled, till the new creation come to put all right
again, and compose the heart of man. I say, all other distractions are but
particular, in respect to particular things, but there is a general
distraction over all mankind, in reference to things of most general and
most eternal concernment. Now, fools and mad persons, they retain the same
affections and passions that are in men, as anger, love, hatred, grief,
joy, &c., but it is so much the worse, since the judgment, which is the
only directive and guide of them, is troubled. Now they are set on wrong
objects, they run at random, and are under no kind of rule, and so they
hurry the poor man and put him in a pitiful case. Now indeed so it is with
us,—since sin entered, the soul is wholly turned off God, the only true
object of delight, in which only there can be solid gloriation. The mind
of man is blinded, and his passions are strong, and so they are now spent
upon empty vanities, and carried headlong without judgment. Oftentimes he
glories in that which is his shame, and boasts in that which is his sin,
and which will cause nothing but shame, the more weight be laid upon it.
There is in man an oblivion and forgetfulness of God, and in this darkness
of the ignorance of God, everything is apprehended or misapprehended as
present sense suggests, and as it fancies a conveniency or excellency.
Thither the soul is carried, as if it were something, and then it is but
the east-wind. There is nothing beside God that is a fit matter of
boasting, because it lacks one of the essential ingredients—either it is
not suitable to the soul, or it is not truly our own. There wants either
proportion to the vast capacity and void of our desires, and so cannot
fill up that really, but only in a deluding dream or imagination, and
therefore will certainly make the issue rather vexation than gloriation,
or there wants property and interest in them, for they are changeable and
perishing in their own nature, and by divine appointment, that they cannot
be conceived to be the proper good of the immortal soul. They cannot be
truly our own, because they will shortly cease to be, and before they
cease to be, they may in a moment cease to be ours. That tie of interest
is a draw knot, whatsoever catcheth hold of the end of it looseth it.
The object of degenerate and vicious boasting is here held out: “Boast not
thyself,” or “of thyself.” Whatsoever be the immediate matter of it, this
is always the ultimate and principal object. Since man fell from God, self
is the centre of all his affections and motions. This is the great idol,
the Diana, that the heart worships, and all the contention, labour,
clamour, and care that is among men, is about her silver shrines, so to
speak, something relating to the adorning or setting forth this idol. It
is true, since the heart is turned from that direct subordination to God,
the affections are scattered and parted into infinite channels, and run
towards innumerable objects, for the want of that original unity, which
comprehends in its bosom universal plenty, must needs breed infinite
variety, to supply the insatiable appetite of the soul. And this might be
enough to convince you, that your souls are quite out of course, and
altogether wandered from the way of happiness because they are poured out
on such a multiplicity of insufficient, unsatisfying things, every one of
which is narrow, limited and empty, and the combination and concurrence of
all being a thing either impossible or improbable to be attained. But we
may conceive that men’s affections put themselves into three great heads
of created things, one of which runs towards the goods or perfections of
the mind, another towards the goods or advantages of the body, and a third
towards those things that are without us, _bona fortunæ_, riches and
honour, &c. Now each of these sends out many streams and rivulets as so
many branches from it, but all of them, though they seem to have a direct
course towards other things, yet wind about and make a circular progress
to the great ocean of self-estimation, whence they issued at first.
You may find all of these, (Jer. ix. 23,) falling under a divine
interdiction and curse, as being opposite to glorying in God. While men
reflect within themselves, and behold some endowments and abilities in
their minds beyond other men, of which wisdom is the principal, and here
stands for all inward advantages or qualifications of the soul in that
secret reflection and comparison, there is a tacit gloriation, which yet
is a loud blasphemy in God’s ears. It is impossible almost for a man to
recognosce(275) and review his own parts such as ingine,(276) memory,
understanding, sharpness of wit, readiness of expression, goodness and
gentleness of nature, but that in such a review, the soul must be puffed
up, apprehending some excellency beyond other men, and taking complacency
in it, which are the two acts of robbery that are in gloriation and
boasting. Commonly this arises from unequal comparisons. We please
ourselves that we are _deterioribus meliores_, “better than the worst,”
and build self-estimation upon the ruins of other men’s disadvantages, as
if it were any point of praise in us that they are worse, like men that
stand upon a height, and measure their own altitude, not from their just
intrinsic quantity, but taking the advantage of the bottom, whereby we
deceive our own selves. I remember a word of Solomon’s, that imports how
dangerous a thing it is for a man to reflect upon, or search into his own
glory, Prov. xxv. 27. “It is not good to eat much honey, so for men to
search their own glory is not glory.”
To surfeit in the excess of honey or sweet things drives to vomit, and
cloys the stomach, ver. 16. Though it be sweet, there is great need, yea,
the more need of caution and moderation about it, so for a man either to
search into his own breast, and reflect upon his own excellencies, to find
matter of gloriation or studiously to affect it among others, and inquire
into other men’s account and esteem of him, it is no glory—it is a
dangerous and shameful folly. Now this is not only incident to natural
spirits, upon their consideration of their own advantages, but even to the
most gracious, upon the review of spiritual endowments and prerogatives.
It is such a subtile and insinuating poison that it spreads universally,
and infects the most precious ointments of the soul, and, as it were,
poisons the very antidote and counterpoison. So forcible is this that was
first dropped into man’s nature by Satan’s envy, that it diffuses itself
even into humility, and humiliation itself, and makes a man proud because
of humility. The apostle found need to caveat this, Rom. xi. 18-20, “Boast
not,” “be not high minded, but fear,”—“thou standest by faith,” and chap.
xii. 16, “Mind not high things,” “be not wise in your own conceits,” and 1
Cor. viii. 2, “If any man think that he knoweth anything, he knoweth
nothing as he ought to know.” All which gives us a plain demonstration of
this, that self gloriation and complacency, in reflection upon ourselves,
is both the greatest ignorance and the worst sacrilege. It is an argument
of greater ignorance for a man to think he knows than not to know indeed.
It is the worst and most dangerous ignorance, to have such an opinion of
our knowledge, gifts, and graces, for that puffs up, swells with empty
wind, and makes a vain tumour and then it is great sacrilege, a robbing of
the honour that is due to God. For what hast thou that thou hast not
received? That appropriating of these things to ourselves as ours, is an
impropriating of them from their right owner, that is, God, 1 Cor. iv. 7.
For if thou didst apprehend that thou received it, where then is glorying?
I would desire then, that whenever you happen to reflect upon yourselves,
and observe any advantage, either natural or spiritual, in yourselves,
that you may think this word sounds from heaven, “Let him that glorieth
glory in the Lord.” Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, and so not
the learned man in his learning, nor the eloquent man in his speaking nor
the ingenious man in his quickness nor the good man in his goodness. All
these things though sweet, yet will surfeit, gloriation in them is neither
glory nor gain, neither honourable nor profitable.
Then the stream of gloriation flows in the channel of bodily gifts as
might, strength of body, beauty and comeliness of parts, and other such
endowments which, besides that it is as irrational as the former, is a
sacrilegious impropriation of the most free and arbitrary gifts of God to
ourselves, it is withal absurd, in that it is not so truly of ourselves.
These bodily ornaments and endowments do not perfect or better a man as a
man, they are but the alterable qualities of the vessel or tabernacle of a
man, in which other baser creatures may far excel him. How many comely and
beautiful souls are lodged within obscure and ugly cottages or bodies of
clay, which will be taken down! And the great advantage is, that the soul
of a man, which is a man, cannot be defiled from without, that is, from
the body, though never so loathsome or deformed, the vilest body cannot
mar the soul’s beauty. But then, on the other hand, the most beautiful
body is defiled and deformed by the filthiness of sin in the soul, and O
how many deformed and ugly souls dwell in beautiful and comely bodies,
which truly is no other thing than a devil in an image well carved and
painted. Christians, you had need to correct this within you, even a self
complacency, joined with despising of others in the consideration of those
external gifts God hath given you. What an abominable thing is it to cast
up in reproach, or in your hearts to despise any other for natural
imperfections, such as blindness, lameness, deformity or such like? Let
that word sound always in your ears, Who made thee to differ from another?
“Boast not thyself, &c.” But there is as strong a stream runs in the third
channel as in any, gloriation arising from those outward and extrinsic
differences that the providence of God makes among men, such as riches,
honour, gain, &c. You find such men, Psalm xlix. 6, Prov. xviii. 11, and
x. 15. That which a godly man makes the name of the Lord,—that is, the
ground and foundation of his confidence for present and future times,—that
the most part of men make their riches, that is, their strong city, and
their high wall, their hope and expectation is reposed within it. This is
the tower or wall of defence against the injuries and calamities of the
times, which most part of men are building, and if it go up quickly, if
they can get these several stones or pieces of gain scraped together into
a heap they straightway imagine themselves safe, as under a high wall. But
there is no truth in it, it is all but in their imagination, and therefore
it comes often down about their ears, and offends them, instead of being a
defence. Let a man creep, as it were, from off the ground where the poor
lie, and get some advantage of ground above them, or be exalted to some
dignity or office, and so set by the shoulders higher than the rest of the
people, or yet grow in some more abundance of the things at this life, and
strange it is, what a vanity or tumour of mind instantly follows! He
presently thinks himself somebody, and forgetting either who is above him,
to whom all are worms creeping and crawling on the footstool, or what a
sandy foundation he stands upon himself, he begins to take some secret
complacency in himself, and to look down upon others below him. He
applauds, as it were, unto himself, and takes it in evil part to want the
approbation and _plaudite_ of others. Then he cannot so well endure
affronts and injuries as before, he is not so meek and condescending to
his equals or interiors. While he was poor he used entreaties, but now he
answers roughly, (Prov. xviii. 23,) as Solomon gives the character of him.
How many vain and empty gloriations are there about the point of birth and
place, and what foolish contentions about these, as if it were children
struggling among themselves about their order and rank! There is no worth
in these things, but what fancy and custom impose upon them and yet poor
creatures boast in these empty things. The gentlemen despise citizens, the
citizens contemn the poor countrymen, and yet their bloods in a basin have
no different colours, for all this hot contention about blood and birth.
“Boast not of thyself.” Nay, to speak properly, this is not thyself,—_Qui
genus laudat suum, aliena jactat_.(277) Such parents, and such a house are
nothing of thy own; these are mere extrinsic things, which are neither an
honour to unworthy men, nor a disgrace to one who is worthy.
You see, beloved in the Lord, what is now the natural posture or
inclination of our souls in this degenerate and fallen estate. As the
rivers of paradise have changed their channels and course since the fall,
so hath man’s affections, and so hath his gloriation, so that it may be
truly said, that our glory is our shame and not our glory. Many glory in
iniquity and sin, (Psal. x. 3, and xciv. 4), but that shall undoubtedly be
their shame and confusion before men and angels. How many godless persons
will glory in swearing heinous and deep oaths, and some have contended
about the victory in it! You account it a point of gallantry, but this
triumph is like the devils in hell upon the devouring of souls. Some boast
of drinking, and being able to drink others under the table, but we should
be humbled and mourn for such abominations. Certain I am, that many boast
of wicked designs, and malicious projects against their neighbours, if
they can accomplish them. They account their glory not to take a wrong
without giving a greater, nor to suffer an evil word without twenty worse
in recompense. Alas! this boasting will one day be turned into gnashing of
teeth, and this gloriation into that gnawing and ever-tormenting worm of
conscience. And what will ye do in the day of that visitation? And where
shall be your glory? But the most part glory and boast in things that
profit not, and will become their shame, because they glory in them, that
is, those gifts of God, outward or inward, temporal or spiritual, wherein
there is any advancement above others; unto whom I would seriously commend
this sentence to be pondered duly, “Boast not” of thyself. Whatsoever thou
art, or whatsoever thou hast, boast not of thyself for it, think not much
of thyself because of it. Though there be a difference in God’s donation,
yet let there be none in thy self estimation. Hast thou more wisdom and
pregnancy of wit, or more learning than another? Think not more of thyself
for that, than thou thinkest of the ignorant and unlearned who want it.
Have that same reflection upon thine own unworthiness, that thou would
think reasonable another that wants these endowments should have. Is there
a greater measure of grace in thee? Boast not, reckon of thyself as
abstracted and denuded of that, and let it not add to thy value or account
of thyself, put not in that to make it down weight, and to make thee
prefer thyself secretly to another. Whether it be some larger fortune in
the world, or some higher place and station among men, or some abilities
and perfections of body or mind, which may entice thee secretly to kiss
thy hand, and bow down to thyself, yet remember that thou boast not, glory
not in any thing but in the Lord. Let nothing of that kind conciliate more
affection to thyself, or more contempt toward others. Let not any thing of
that kind be the rule of thy self judging, but rather entertain the view
of the other side of thyself, that is the worst, and keep that most in thy
eye, that thou may only glory in God. If thou be a gentleman, labour to be
as humble in heart as thou thinkest a countryman or poor tenant should be,
if thou be a scholar, be as low in thy own sight as the unlearned should
be, if rich, count not thyself any whit better than the poor, yea, the
higher God sets thee in place, or parts, the lower thou oughtest to set
thyself. “Boast not” of thyself, nor any thing in thyself, or belonging to
thyself, for the property of all good is taken from us since the fall, and
is fallen into God’s hand since we forfeited it, and there is nothing now
properly ours but evil,—that is our self.
Sermon VII.
Prov. xxvii. 1.—“Boast not thyself of to morrow, for thou knowest
not what a day may bring forth.”
As man is naturally given to boasting and gloriation in something (for the
heart cannot want some object to rest upon and take complacency in, it is
framed with such a capacity of employing other things), so there is a
strong inclination in man towards the time to come, he hath an immortal
appetite, and an appetite of immortality; and therefore his desires
usually stretch farther than the present hour, and the more knowledge he
hath above other creatures, the more providence he hath and foresight of
the time to come. And so he often anticipates future things by present joy
and rejoicing in them, as he accelerates in a manner by his earnest
desires and endeavours after them. Now, if the soul of man were in the
primitive integrity, and had as clear and piercing an eye of understanding
as once it had, this providence of the soul would reach to the furthest
period in time, that is, to eternity, which is the only just measure of
the endurance of any immortal spirit. But since the eye of man’s
understanding is darkness, and his soul disordered, he cannot see afar
off, nor so clearly by far. He is now, as you say, sand blind,—can see
nothing at such a distance as beyond the bounds of time, can see nothing
but at hand.
“To-morrow!” This is the narrow sphere of poor man’s comprehension, all he
can attain unto is to be provident for the present time. I call it ill
present, even that which is to come of our time, because, in regard of
eternity, it hath no parts, it hath no flux or succession, it is so soon
cut off as a moment, as the twinkling of an eye, and so, though a man
could see the end of it, it is but a short and dim sight, it is as if a
man could only behold that which is almost contiguous with his eye. These,
then, are the two great ruins and decays of the nature of man, he is
degenerated from God to created things, and seeks his joy and rest in
them, in which there is nothing but the contrary, that is, vexation. And
then he is fallen from apprehension of eternity, and the poor soul is
confined within the narrow bounds of time, so that now all his providence
is to lay up some perishing things for some few revolutions of the sun,
for some few morrows, after which, though an endless morrow ensue, yet he
perceives it not, and provides not for it, and all his glorying and
boasting is only upon some presumptuous confidence and ungrounded
assurance of the stability of these things for the time to come, which the
wise man finding much folly in, he leaves us this counsel, “Boast not
thyself of to-morrow,”—with a most pungent reason, taken partly from the
instability and inconstancy of all these outward things in which men fancy
an eternity of joy, and partly from the ignorance we have of the future
events,—“for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.”
This boasting is an evil so predominant among men, that I know not any
more universal in its dominion, or more hurtful to us, or displeasing to
God. If it could be so embowelled unto you, as that you might truly
discern the many monstrous conceptions of atheism and irreligion that are
in it, it were worth the while, but I shall not digress upon the general
head, I had rather keep within the limits of the text. Self boasting, you
see, is that which is here condemned, and the very name is almost enough
to condemn the nature of it. But there is another particular added to
restrict that, “of to-morrow.” Of all boastings the most irrational and
groundless is that which arises from presumption of future things, which
are so uncertain both in themselves and to us.
It is worth the observation, that whatever be the immediate and particular
matter and occasion of men’s gloriation, yet self is the great and
ultimate object of it; it is self that men glory in, whatsoever created
thing be the reason or occasion of it. “Boast not thyself of to morrow.”
Here we might stand and take a look of the crookedness and perverseness of
man’s spirit since his departure from God. Self love and pride were the
first poison that the malice of Satan dropped into man’s nature, and this
is so strong and pestilent, that it has spread through the whole of
mankind, and the whole in every man. Every one is infected, and all in
every one. What are all the disordered affections in men but so many
streams from this fountain? And from these do men’s affections flow next,
so that there is nothing left uncorrupted, and free of this abominable and
vile ingredient, all flowing from self and returning to it again, which is
both sacrilegious and unnatural. There is heinous sacrilege in it,—the
spoiling of the glorious divine Majesty of his indubitable prerogative and
incommunicable right of all the glory, and honour of his creature. There
is no usurpation like this for the worm that crawls on the footstool to
creep up to the throne, and, as it were, to king it there, to deify and
adore itself, and gather in all the tribute of praise and glory and love,
that is only due to the Lord God Almighty; and invert and appropriate
these to ourselves, which is, as if the axe should boast itself, as if it
were no iron, or the staff, as if it were no timber. Hence it is, that of
all evils in man’s nature, God hath the most perfect antipathy and direct
opposition against pride and self love, because it is sacrilege and
idolatry in the highest manner. It strikes at the sovereignty and honour
of God’s name, which is dear to him as himself, it sets up a vile idol in
the choicest temple of God, that is, in the heart, and this is the
abomination of desolation. Other evils strike against his holy will, but
this peculiarly points at the very nature and being of the most high God,
and so it is with child of blasphemy,—atheism is the very heart and life
of it. And then it is most unnatural, and so monstrous and deformed. For,
consider all the creation, though every one of them have particular
inclinations towards their own proper ends, and so a happiness suitable to
their own nature; yet how diverse, how contrary soever they be, there is
no selfishness in them, they all concur and conspire to the good of the
whole, and the mutual help of each other. If once that poison should
infect the material world, which hath spoiled the spiritual; let once such
a selfish disposition or inclination possess any part of the world, and
presently the order, harmony, beauty, pleasure, and profit of the whole
world should be interrupted, defaced, and destroyed. Let the sun be
supposed to boast itself of its light and influence, and so disdain to
impart it to the lower world, and all would run into confusion. Again, I
desire you but to take a view of this humour in another’s person, (for we
are more ready to see others evils than our own,) and how deformed is it?
So vile is self-seeking and self boasting, that all men loathe it in
others, and hide it from others. It disgraces all actions, how beautiful
soever, it is the very bane of human society, that which looses all the
links of it, and makes them cross and thwart one another.
But, alas! how much more easy is it, to point out such an evil in a
deformed visage, than to discern it in ourselves, and how many will hate
it in the picture, who love and entertain it in their own persons! Such
deceitfulness is intermingled with most desperate wickedness. I verily
believe that it is the predominant of every man, good and bad, except in
so far as it is mortified by grace. O the turnings and windings of the
heart upon itself, in all the most apparently direct motions towards God
and the good of men! What serpentine and crooked circumgirations and
reflections are there in the soul of man when the outward action and
expression seems most regular and directed towards God’s glory, and others
edification! Whoever of you have any acquaintance with your own spirits
cannot but know this, and be ashamed and confounded at the very thought of
it. Self boasting, self complacency, self seeking, all those being of kin
one to another, are insinuated into your best notions, and infect them
with more atheism before God, than the strongest pious affection can
instil of goodness into them. How often will men’s actions and expressions
be outwardly clothed with a habit of condescendency and self-denial! And
many may declaim with such zeal and vehemency against this evil, and yet,
_latet anquis_, the serpent is in the bosom and his venom may be diffused
into the heart, and the poison of self-seeking and self-boasting may run
through the veins of humble-like carriage and passionate discourses for
self denial. O that we could above all things establish that fundamental
principle of Christianity in our hearts, even as we would be his
disciples, truly and sincerely, and not in outward resemblance,—to deny
ourselves, to renounce ourselves and our lusts, to make a whole
resignation of our love, will, glory, and all to him, in whom to be lost
it is only truly to find ourselves.
But, though man have this strange self idolizing humour, and a self
glorying disposition, yet he is so poor and beggarly a creature, that he
hath not sufficient matter within himself to give complacency to his
heart, therefore he must borrow from all external things, and when there
is any kind of propriety in, or title to them, then he glories in himself
for them, as if they were truly in himself. We are creatures by nature
most indigent, yet most proud, which is unnatural. No man is satisfied
within himself (except the good man, Prov. xiv. 14), but he goes abroad to
seek it at the door of every creature, and when there are some plumes or
feathers borrowed from other birds, like that foolish bird in the fable,
we begin to raise our crests, and boast ourselves, as if we had all these
of our own, and were beholden to none, but as things that are truly our
own will not be sufficient to feed this flame of gloriation, without the
accession of outward things; so present things, and the present time, will
not afford aliment enough, or fuel for this humour, without the addition
of the morrow.
“Boast not thyself of to-morrow.” No man’s present possession satisfies
him, without the addition of hope and expectation for the future, and
herein the poverty of man’s spirit appears, and the emptiness of all
things we enjoy here, that our present revenue, as it were, will not
content the heart. The present possession fills not up the vacuities of
the heart, without the supply of our imaginations, by taking so much in
upon the head of the morrow, to speak so. As one prodigal and riotous
waster, who cannot be served with his yearly income, but takes so much on
upon his estate, upon the next year’s income, before it come, begins to
spend upon it, before it come itself, and then, when it comes, it cannot
suffice itself, so the insatiable and indigent heart of man cannot subsist
and feed its joy in complacency upon the whole world, if it were presently
in its possession, without some accession of hopes and expectations for
the time to come. Therefore the soul, as it were, anticipates and
forestalls the morrow, and borrows so much present joy and boasting upon
the head of it, which when it comes itself, perhaps it will not fill the
hand of the reaper, let be(278) pay for that debt of gloriation that was
taken on upon its name, or compense the expectation which was in it, see
Job xi. 18, 20, viii. 13. Hope is like a man’s house to him, but to many
it is no better than a spider’s web. We have then a clear demonstration of
the madness and folly of men, who hang so much upon things without, and
suffer themselves to be moulded and modelled in their affections,
according to the variety of external accidents. First of all, consider the
independence of all things upon us and our choice; there is nothing more
unreasonable than to stir our passions upon that which falls not under our
deliberation, as the most part of things to come are. What shall be
to-morrow, what shall come of my estate, of my places; what event my
projects and designs shall have,—this is not in my hand, these depend upon
other men’s wills, purposes, and actions, which are not in my power, and
therefore, either to boast of glory upon that which depends upon the
concurrence of so many causes unsubordinate to me, or to be vexed and
disquieted upon the fore-apprehension of that which is not in my hand to
prevent, is not only irreligious, as contrary to our Saviour’s command,
Matt. vi. 25, but unreasonable also, as that which even nature condemns.
“Take not thought for to-morrow,” and so by consequent, “Boast not thyself
of to-morrow,” and there is one argument from the vanity of such
affections. “Thou canst not make one hair black, nor add one cubit to thy
stature,” &c. To what purpose, then, are either those vexations or
gloriations, which cannot prevent evil, nor procure good? Why should our
affections depend upon others motions? This makes a man the greatest slave
and captive, so that he hath not the dominion and power of himself. But
the vanity of such affections is the more increased, if we consider that
supreme eternal will, by which all these things are determined, and
therefore, it is in vain for creatures to make themselves more miserable,
or put themselves in a fool’s paradise, which will produce more misery
afterwards, and that, for those things which are bound up in that fatal
chain of his eternal purpose. Then, in the next place, the folly of men
appears from the inconstancy of these things. There is such an infinite
variety of the accidents of providence, that it is folly for a man to
presume to boast of any thing, or take complacency in it, because many
things fall between the cup and the lip,(279) the chalice and the chin, as
the proverb is. There is nothing certain, but that all things are
uncertain,—that all things are subject to perpetual motion, revolution,
and change,—to-day a city, to-morrow a heap. And there is nothing between
a great city and a heap but one day, nothing between a man and no man but
one hour. Our life is subject to infinite casualties, it may receive the
fatal stroke from the meanest thing, and most unexpected, it is a bubble
floating upon the water, for this world is a watery element, in continual
motion with storm; and in these, so many poor dying creatures rise up, and
swim and float awhile, and are tossed up and down by the wind and wave;
and the least puff of wind or drop of rain sends it back to its own
element. We are a vapour appearing for a very little time—a creature of no
solidity—a dream—a shadow and appearance of something; and this dream or
apparition is but for a little time, and then it evanisheth, not so much
into nothing, for it was little distant from nothing before, but it
disappears rather. All human affairs are like the spokes of a wheel, in
such a continual circumgiration, as a captive king, who was drawing
Sesostris’s chariot, said, when he was looking often behind him. The king
of Egypt, Sesostris, demanded for what end did he look so often about him?
Says he, “I am looking to the wheel, musing upon the vicissitudes and
permutations of it, how the highest parts are instantly the lowest.” And
this word repressed the king’s vain glory.(280) Now, in this constant
wheeling of outward things, which is the soul that enjoys true quiet and
peace? Even that soul that is fixed, as it were, in the centre upon God,
that hath its abode in him; though the parts without be in a continual
violent motion, yet the centre of the wheel is at much peace, is not
violently turned, but gently complies to the changes of the other. And
then consider the madness of this,—“Thou knowest not, &c.” There are two
reasons in the things themselves,—inconstancy, and independency on us; but
this is as pressing as any,—our ignorance of them; they are wholly in the
dark to us, as it were in the lower parts of the earth. As there is no
more in our power but the present hour,—for to yesterday we are dead
already, for it is past and cannot return, it is as it were buried in the
grave of oblivion, and to to-morrow we are not yet born, for it is not
come to the light, and we know not if ever it will come,—so there is no
more in our knowledge but the present hour. The time past, though we
remember it, yet it is without our practical knowledge, it admits of no
reformation by it; and the time to come is not born to us, and it is all
one as if we were not born to it. And indeed, in the Lord’s disposing of
all affairs under the sun, after this method, there is infinite wisdom and
goodness both, though at the first view men would think it better that all
things went on after an uniform manner, and that men knew what were to
befall them. Yet, I say, God hath herein provided for his own glory and
the good of men,—his own glory, while he hath reserved to himself the
absolute dominion and perfect knowledge of his works, and exercises them
in so great variety, that they may be seen to proceed from him; and for
our good,—for what place were there for the exercise of many Christian
virtues and graces, if it were not so? What place for patience, if there
were no cross dispensations? What place for moderation, if there were no
prosperity? If there were not such variety and vicissitude, how should the
evenness and constancy of the spirit be known? Where should contentment
and tranquillity of mind have place? For it is a calm in a storm properly,
not a calm in a calm,—that is no virtue. If the several accidents of
providence were foreseen by us, what a marvellous perturbation and
disorder would it make in our duty! Who would do his duty out of
conscience to God’s command, to commit events to him? Now, there is the
trial of obedience, to make us go by a way we know not, and resign
ourselves to the all seeing providence, whose eyes run to and fro
throughout the earth. Therefore that no grace may want matter and occasion
of exercise; that no virtue may die out for want of fuel, or rust for lack
of exercise, God hath thus ordered and disposed the world. There is no
condition, no posture of affairs, in which he hath not left a fair
opportunity for the exercising of some grace. Hath he shut up and
precluded the acting of one or many through affliction, then surely he
hath opened a wide door, and given large matter for self denial, humility,
patience, moderation, and these are as precious as any that look fairest.
In a word, I think the very frame and method of the disposing of this
material world speaks aloud to this purpose. You see, when you look below,
there is nothing seen but the outside of the earth, the very surface of it
only appears, and there your sight is terminated, but look above, and
there is no termination, no bounding of the sight,—there are infinite
spaces, all are transparent and clear without and within. Now, what may
this present unto us? One says, it shows us that our affections should be
set upon things above and not on things below, seeing below there is
nothing but an outward appearance and surface of things,—the glory and
beauty of the earth is but skin deep, but heavenly things are alike
throughout, all transparent, nothing to set bounds to the affections; they
are infinite, and you may enlarge infinitely towards them. I add this
other consideration, that God hath made all things in time dark and
opaque, like the earth. Look to them, you see only the outside of them,
the present hour, and what is beyond it you know no more, than you see the
bowels of the earth, but eternity is both transparent and conspicuous
throughout, and infinite too. Therefore God hath made us blind to the one,
that we should not set our heart, nor terminate our eyes upon any thing
here, but he hath opened and spread eternity before us in the scriptures,
so that you may read and understand your fortune,—your everlasting estate
in it. He hath shut up temporal things and sealed them, and wills us to
live implicitly, and give him the trust of them without anxious foresight,
but eternity he hath unveiled and opened unto us. Certain it is, that no
man, till he be fully possessed of God, who is an all sufficient good
(Psal. iv.) can find any satisfaction in any present enjoyment, without
the addition of some hope for the future. Great things without it will not
content. For what is it all to a man if he have no assurance for the time
to come? And mean things with it will content. Great things with little
hope and expectation, fill with more vexation instead of joy, and the
greater they be, this is the more increased. Again, mean and low things,
with great hopes and large expectations, will give more satisfaction,
therefore, all mankind have a look towards the morrow, and labour to
supply their present defects and wants, with hope or confidence of that. I
would exhort you who would indeed have solid matter of gloriation, and
would not be befooled into a golden dream of vain expectations of vain
things, that ye would labour to fill up the vacuities of present things
with that great hope, the hope of salvation, which will be as an helmet to
keep your head safe in all difficulties, 1 Pet. i. 3, Heb. vi. 18, 19,
Rom. v. 5. It is true, other men’s expectations of gain and credit, and
such things, do in some measure abate the torment and pain of present
wants and indigencies, but certain it is, that such hope is not so
sovereign a cordial to the heart, as to expel all grief, but leaves much
vexation within. But then also, the frequent disappointment of such
projects and designs of gain, honour, and pleasure, and the extreme
unanswerableness of these to the desires and hopes of the soul, even when
attained, must needs breed infinitely more anxiety and vexation in the
spirit, than the hope of them could give of satisfaction, yea the more the
expectation was, it cannot choose but the greater shame and confusion must
be. Therefore, if you would have your souls truly established, and not
hanging upon the morrow uncertainly, as the most part of men are get a
look beyond the morrow, unto that everlasting day of eternity, that hath
no morrow(281) after it, and see what foundation you can lay up for that
time to come, as Paul bids Timothy counsel the rich men in the world, who
thought their riches and revenues, their offices and dignities, a
foundation and well spring of contentment to them and their children, and
are ready to say with that man in the parable, “Soul take thy rest, thou
hast enough laid up for many years.” “Charge them, says he,” &c. 1 Tim.
vi. 16-19. O a charge worthy to be engraven on the tables of our hearts,
worthy to be written on the ports of all cities, and the gates of all
palaces. You would all have a foundation of lasting joy, says he, but why
seek you lasting joy in fading things, and certain joy in uncertain
riches, and solid contentment in empty things, and not rather in the
living God, who is the unexhausted spring of all good things? Therefore,
if you would truly boast of to-morrow, or sing a solid _requiem_ to your
own hearts, there is another treasure to be laid up in store against the
time to come,—the time only worthy to be called time, that is eternity,
and that is study to do good, and be rich in good works, in works of
piety, of mercy, of equity, of sobriety. This is a better foundation for
the time to come, or, rather receive and embrace the promise of eternal
life made to such,—that free and gracious promise of life in the gospel,
and so you may supply all the wants and indigencies of your present
enjoyments, with the precious hope of eternal life which cannot make
ashamed. But what is the way that the most part of men take to mitigate
and sweeten their present hardships? Even like that of the fool in the
parable Luke xii. They either have something laid up for many years, or
else their projects and designs reach to many years. The truth is, they
have more pleasure in the expectation of such things, than in the real
possession, but that pleasure is but imaginary also. How many thoughts and
designs are continually turning in the heart of man,—how to be rich, how
to get greater gain, or more credit? Men build castles in the air, and
fancy to themselves, as it were, new worlds of mere possible things, and
in such an employment of the heart, there is some poor deceiving of
present sorrows, but at length they recur with greater violence. Every man
makes romances for himself, pretty fancies of his own fortune, as if he
had the disposing of it himself. He sits down, as it were, and writes an
almanack and prognostication in his own secret thoughts, and designs his
own prosperity, gain, and advantage, and pleasures or joys, and when we
have thus ranked our hopes and expectation, then we begin to take
complacency in them, and boast ourselves in the confidence of them, as if
there were not a supreme Lord who gives a law to our affairs, as
immediately as to the winds and rains.
Now, that you may know the folly of this, consider the reason which is
subjoined,—“For thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.” There is a
concurrence of inconstancy in all things, and ignorance in us, which might
be sufficient to check our folly of confident and presumptuous expectation
from them, and gloriation in them, so that, whether we look about us to
the things themselves, or within us to ourselves, all things proclaim the
folly and madness of that which the heart of man is set upon. And this
double consideration the apostle James opposes to the vain hopes and
confident undertakings of men, chap. iv. 13, &c., which place is a perfect
commentary upon this text, he brings in an instance of the resolutions and
purposes of rich men, for the compassing of gain by merchandise, whereby
you may understand all the several designs and plots of men, that are
contrived and ordered, and laid down in the hearts of men, either for more
gain, or more glory, or more pleasure and ease. Now, the grand evil that
is here reproved, is not simply men’s care and diligence in using lawful
means for their accommodation in this life, or yet their wise and prudent
foresight in ordering of their affairs for attaining that end, for both
these are frequently recommended and commended by the wise man Prov. vi.
6, and xxiv. 27. But here is the great iniquity,—that men in all these
contrivings and actings, carry themselves as if they were absolute
independents, without consideration of the sovereign universal dominion of
God. No man almost reflects upon that glorious Being, which alone hath the
negative and definitive sentence in all the motions and affairs of the
sons of men, or considers, that it is not in man that walks to direct his
paths; that when all our thoughts and designs are marshalled and ordered,
and the completest preparation made for reaching our intended ends, that
yet the way of man is not in himself, that all these things are under a
higher and more absolute dominion of the most high God. Whose heart doth
that often sound unto,—“A man’s heart deviseth his way, but the Lord
directeth his steps,” and so is not bound by any rule to conform his
executions to our intentions? For he works all according to the counsel of
his own will, and not ours, and therefore, no wonder that the product of
our actions does not answer our intentions and devices, because the
supreme rule and measure of them is above our power, and without our
knowledge. And therefore, though there were never so many devices in the
heart of man, never so wisely or lawfully contrived and ordered, though
the mine be never so well prepared, and all ready for the firing of it,
yet the counsel of the Lord, that shall stand, Prov. xix. 21, and xvi. 9.
That higher determination may blow up our best consultations or drown
them, for man’s goings are of the Lord, how then can a man understand his
paths? Prov. xx. 24. And yet the most part of men, in all these things,
lose the remembrance of this fatal and invincible subordination to God,
and propose their own affairs and actions, as if themselves were to
dispose of them, and when their own resolutions and projects seem
probable, they begin to please themselves in them, in the forethought of
what they will do, or what they may have or enjoy to morrow afterward;
there is a present secret complacency and gloriation, without any serious
reminding the absolute dependence of all things upon the will of God, and
their independence upon our counsels without forecasting and often
ruminating upon the perpetual fluctuation and inconstancy of human
affairs, but, as if we were the supreme moderators in heaven and earth, so
we act and transact our own business in a deep forgetfulness of him who
sits in heaven, and laughs at all our projects and practices and
therefore, the Holy Ghost would have this secret but serious thought to
season all our other purposes and consultations,—“If the Lord will,” &c.
Whereas though we ought to say and think this, it is scarce minded, and
then we know not what shall be to morrow for our life itself is a vapour.
Herein is a strong argument,—you lay your designs for to morrow, for a
year, for many years, and yet ye know not if ye shall be to morrow. How
many men’s projects are cast beyond that time that is measured out on
God’s counsel! And what a ridiculous thing must that be to him, if it be
not done with submissive and humble dependence on him! In a word time is
with child of innumerable things, conceived by the eternal counsel of God.
Infinite and inconceivably various are those conceptions which the womb of
time shall at length bring forth to light. Every day, every hour, every
minute is travailing in pain, as it were, and is delivered of some one
birth or another, and no creature can open its womb sooner, or shut it
longer, than the appointed and prefixed season. There is no miscarrying as
to him whose decrees do properly conceive them though to us they seem
often abortive. Now, join unto this, to make the allusion full, as long as
they are carried in the womb of time, they are hid from all the world. The
womb is a dark lodging and no understanding nor eye can pierce into it, to
tell what is in it, till it break forth, and therefore, children born are
said to come to the light, for till then, they are to us in a cloud of
darkness, that we cannot tell what they are. So then, every day, every
hour, every moment is about to bring forth that which all the world is
ignorant of, till they see it, and oh! that then they understood it. We
know not whether the morrow’s or next hour’s birth may be a proportioned
child, or a monster, whether it will answer the figure and mould that is
in our mind, or be misshapen and deformed to our sense. Men’s desires and
designs may be said to conceive, for they form an inward image and idea
within themselves, to which they labour to make the product and birth of
time conformable, and when it answers our preconceived form, then we
rejoice as for a man child. But for the most part it is a monster as to
our conception, it is an aberration from our rule, it is either mutilated
and defective of what we desire, or superfluous or deformed, which turns
our expectation into vexation, and our boasting into lamentation. But the
truth is, time brings forth no monsters as to the Lord’s decrees, which
are the only just measures of all things. It may be said of every thing
under the sun, as David speaks of himself in the womb, “My substance was
not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously formed in the
lowest parts of the earth,” &c. Psal. cxxxix. 15. His eyes see all their
substance, yet being unperfect, and in his everlasting book all their
members are written, the portraiture of every thing is drawn there to the
life, and these in continuance are fashioned just as they were written and
drawn, and so they exactly correspond to his preconception of them,
whatever deformity they may have as to us, yet they are perfect works, and
beautiful to him.
Sermon VIII.
Isaiah i. 10, 11, &c.—“Hear the word of the Lord, ye rulers of
Sodom, give ear unto the law of our God, ye people of Gomorrah,”
&c.
It is strange to think what mercy is mixed with the most wrath like
strokes and threatenings. There is no prophet whose office and commission
is only for judgment, nay, to speak the truth, it is mercy that premises
threatenings. The entering of the law, both in the commands and curses, is
to make sin abound, that grace may superabound, so that both rods and
threatenings are the messengers of Jesus Christ, to bring sinners to him
for salvation. Every thing should be measured and named by its end, so,
call threatenings promises, call rods and judgments mercies, name all
good, and good to you, if so be you understand the purpose of God in
these. The shortest preaching in the Bible useth to express itself what it
means, though it be never so terrible. This is a sad and lamentable
beginning of a prophet’s ministry, the first word is, to the heavens and
to the earth(282) a weighty and horrible regrate(283) of this people, as
if none of them were to hear, as if the earth could be more easily
affected than they. The creatures are taken witnesses by God of their
ingratitude, and then who shall speak for them? If heaven and earth be
against them, who shall speak good of them? Will their own conscience? No
certainly, it will, in the day of witnessing and judging, precipitate its
sentence, and spare the judge the labour of probation, “a man’s enemy
shall be within his own house,” though now your consciences agree with
you. Nay, why doth the Lord speak to them? Because the people consider
not, because consciences have given over speaking to them, therefore the
Lord directs his word to the dumb earth. Yet how gracious is he, as to
direct a second word even to the people, though a sad word? It is a
complaint of iniquity and backsliding, and such as cannot be uttered, yet
it is mercy to challenge them, yea, to chasten them. If the Lord would
threaten a man with pure and unmixed judgments, if he would frame a
threatening of a rod of pure justice, I think it should be this, “I will
no more reprove thee, nor chasten thee,” and he is not far from it, when
he says, “Why shall ye be stricken any more?” &c. ver. 5. As if he would
say, It is in vain now to send a rod, ye receive no correction. I sent the
rod, that it might open your hearts and ears to the word, and seal your
instruction,—but to what purpose is it?—Ye grow worse and worse. Well, the
prophet compares here sin and judgment, and the one far surmounts the
other. Ye would think a desolate country, burnt cities, desolation made by
strangers, a sufficient recompense of their corruption and misorders, of
their forsaking and backsliding. Ye would think now, if your present
condition and the land’s pressed you to utter Jeremiah’s lamentation, a
sadder than which is not almost imaginable, ye would think, I say, that
you had received double for all your sins. And yet, alas! how are your
iniquities of infinite more desert? All that were mercy, which is behind
infinite and eternal punishment. That there is room left for complaint, is
mercy, that there is a remnant left, is mercy.
Now, to proclaim unto this people, and convince them that their judgment
was not severe, he gives them one word from God. And, indeed, it is
strange, that when the rod is sent, because of the despising of the word,
that after the despising of both word and rod, another word should come.
Always this word is a convincing word, a directing word, and a comforting
word. These use to be conjoined, and if they be not always expressed, we
may lawfully understand them. We may join a consolation to a conviction,
and close a threatening with a promise, if we take with a threatening.
Jonah’s preaching expressed no more but a threatening and denunciation of
judgment, but the people understood it according to God’s meaning and made
it a rule of direction, and so a ground of consolation. How inexcusable
are we, who have all these expressed unto us, and often inculcated, “line
upon line, and precept upon precept,” and yet so often divide the word of
truth, or neglect it altogether. Most part fancy a belief of the promises
and neither consider threatenings nor commands. Some believing the
threatenings, are not so wise for their own salvation as to consider what
God says more, but take it for his last word. Shall not Nineveh rise up in
judgment against this generation? They repented at one preaching, and that
a short one, and in appearance very defective, and yet we have many
preachings of the Son of God and his apostles in this Bible,—both law and
gospel holden forth distinctly, and these spoken daily in our audience,
and yet we repent not.
This is a strange preface going before this preaching, and more strange in
that it is before the first preaching of a young prophet. He speaks both
to rulers and people, but he gives them a name such as certainly they
would not take to themselves, but seeing he is to speak the word of the
Lord, he must not flatter them, as they did themselves. Is not this the
Lord’s people, his portion and inheritance which he chose out of the
nations? Are not these rulers the princes of Judah, and the Lord’s
anointed? Were they not both in covenant with God, and separated from the
nations both in privileges and profession? How then are they “rulers of
Sodom” and “people of Gomorrah” likened to the worst of the nations, and
not likened to them but spoken of as if they were indeed all one. When ye
hear the preface ye would think that the prophet was about to direct his
speech to Sodom and Gomorrah, but when you look upon the preaching ye find
he means Judah and Jerusalem, and these are the rulers and people he
speaks of. Certainly, according as men walk, so shall they be named and
ranked. External privileges and profession may give a name before men, and
separate men from men before the world, but they give no name, make no
difference, before God, if all other things be not suitable to these. “He
is not a Jew, saith Paul, who is one outwardly,” but he who hath that
circumcision in the heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter. Outward
profession and signs may have praise of men, but it is this that hath
praise of God, Rom. ii. 28, 29. Circumcision and uncircumcision, baptism
or unbaptism, availeth nothing, but a new creature. A baptized Christian
and an unbaptized Turk are alike before God, if their hearts and ways be
one, Gal. vi. 15. All Christians profess faith, and glory in baptism, but
it avails nothing except it work by love, Gal. v. 6.
Now, what name shall we give you? How shall our rulers be called? How
shall ye, the people, be called? If we shall speak the truth, we fear it
will instruct you not, but irritate you, yet the truth we must speak,
whether ye choose or whether ye refuse. You would all be called
Christians, the people of God, but we may not call you so, except we would
flatter you, and deceive you by flattering, and murder you by deceiving.
We would gladly name you Christians in the spirit, saints chosen and
precious. O that we might speak so to rulers and people! but, alas, we may
not call you so except ye were so indeed, we may not call you Christians
lest ye believe yourselves to be so. And yet, alas, ye will think
yourselves such, speak what we can. Would you know your name then? I
perceive you listen to hear what it is. But understand, that it is your
name before God, which bears his account of you. What matter of a name
among men? It is often a shadow without substance, a name without the
thing. If God name you otherwise, you shall have little either honour or
comfort in it, when men bless you and praise you, if the Lord reckon you
among the beasts that perish, are ye honoured indeed? Well, then, hear
your name before God. What account hath he of you? Ye rulers are rulers of
Sodom, and ye people are people of Gomorrah. And if ye think this a hard
saying, I desire you will notice the way that the prophet Isaiah takes to
prove his challenge against them, and the same may be alleged against
rulers and people now. We need no proof but one of both, see ver. 23,—“Thy
princes are rebellious, because, though they hear much against their sins,
yet they never amend them, they pull away their shoulder, if they hear,
yet they harden their heart.” Is there any of them hath set to pray in
their families, though earnestly pressed? Well, what follows? “Every one
loves gifts.” Covetousness, then, and oppression proves rulers to be
rulers of Sodom. Shall then houses stand, “shalt thou reign, because thou
closest thyself in cedar?” Jer. xxii. 15. No certainly, men shall one day
take up a proverb against them. “Woe to him that increaseth that which is
not his, and ladeth himself with thick clay, they shall be for booties to
the Lord’s spoilers,” Hab. ii. 6. Woe to them, for they have consulted
shame to their houses, and sinned against their own soul. Their design is
to establish their house, and make it eminent, but they take a compendious
way to shame and ruin it. Alas, it is too public, that rulers seek their
own things, for themselves and their friends, and for Jesus and his
interests they are not concerned. But are ye, the people, any whit better?
O that it were so! But alas, when ye are involved in the same guiltiness,
I fear ye partake of their plagues! What are ye then? “People of
Gomorrah.” Is not the name of God blasphemed daily because of you? Are not
the abominations of the Gentiles the common disease of the multitude, and
the very reproach of Christianity? Set apart your public services and
professions, and is there any thing behind in your conversation, but
drunkenness, lying, swearing, contention, envy, deceit, wrath,
covetousness, and such like? Have not the multitude of them been as civil,
and carried themselves as blamelessly, and without offence, as the throng
of our visible church? What have ye more than they? It is true, ye are
called Christians, and ye boast in it. Ye know his will, and can speak of
points of religion, can teach and instruct others, and so have, as it
were, in your minds a form and method of knowledge,—the best of you are
but such. But I ask, as Paul did the Jews in such a case, “Thou that
teachest another, teachest thou not thyself? Thou that makest a boast of
the law, through breaking of it, dishonourest thou God?” Rom. ii. 17-23.
Why then, certainly all thy profession and baptism avail nothing, and will
never extract thee from the pagans, with whom thou art one in
conversation. Thy profession is so far from helping thee in such a case,
that it shall be the most bitter ingredient in thy cup of judgment, for it
is the greatest aggravation of thy sin, for through it God’s name is
blasphemed. If they had not known, they had not had sin. Pagan’s sin is no
sin in respect of Christians. If ye consider Christ’s sermon, Matt. xi.,
ye will say Isaiah is a meek and moderate man in regard of him. Isaiah
calls them people of Gomorrah, but Christ will have them worse, and their
judgment more intolerable than theirs. And that not only the profane of
them, but the civil and religious like who believe not in him. Well, then,
here is the advantage ye get of your name of Christianity, of your
privilege of hearing his word daily, ye who never ponder it, to tremble at
it, or to rejoice in it, who cannot be moved either to joy or grief for
spiritual things, neither law nor gospel moves the most part of you. I
say, here is all your gain,—ye shall receive a reward with Gentiles and
pagans, yea, ye shall be in a worse case than they in the day of the Lord.
The civil Christian shall be worse than the profane Turk, and ye shall not
then boast that ye were Christians, but shall desire that ye had dwelt in
the place where the gospel had never been preached. It is a character of
the nations, that they call not on God, and of heathen families, that they
pray not to him, (Jer. x. 25,) and wrath must be poured on them. What,
then, are the most part of you? Ye neither bow a knee in secret nor in
your families, to God. Your time is otherwise employed, ye have no leisure
to pray twice or thrice a day alone, except when ye put on your clothes ye
utter some ordinary babblings. Ye cannot be driven to family worship.
Shall not God rank you in judgment with those heathen families? Or shall
it not be more tolerable for them than for you? And are not the most part
of you every one given to covetousness, your heart and eye after it,
seeking gain and advantage more than the kingdom of heaven? Doth not every
one of you, as you have power in your hand, oppress one another, and wrong
one another? Now, our end in speaking thus to you, is not to drive you to
desperation. No, indeed, but as there was a word of the Lord sent to such
by Isaiah, so we bring a word unto you. That which ruins you, is your
carnal confidence. Ye are presumptuous as this people, and cry, “The
temple of the Lord, the work of the Lord,” &c. as if these would save you.
Know, therefore, that all these will never cover you in the day of wrath.
Know there is a necessity to make peace with God, and your righteousness
must exceed the righteousness of a profession, and external privileges and
duties, or else ye shall be as far from the kingdom of heaven as Sodom and
Gomorrah. We speak of rulers’ sins, that ye may mourn for them, lest ye be
judged with them. If ye do not mourn for them in secret, know that they
are your sins, ye are companions with them. Many fret, grudge, and cry out
against oppression, but who weeps in secret? Who prays and deprecates
God’s wrath, lest it come upon them? And while it is so, the oppression of
rulers becomes the sin of the oppressed themselves.
“Hear the word of the Lord.” It were a suitable preparation for any word
that is spoken, to make it take impression, if it were looked on “as the
word of the Lord,” and “law of our God.” And truly no man can hear aright
unless he hear it so. Why doth not this word of the Lord return with more
fruit? Why do not men tremble or rejoice at it? Certainly, because it is
not received as God’s word. There is a practical heresy in our hearts,
which rather may be called atheism—we do not believe the Scriptures. I do
not say men call it in question, but I say, ye believe them not. It is one
thing to believe with the heart, another thing not to doubt of it. Ye
doubt not of it, not because ye do indeed believe it, but because ye do
not at all consider it. It is one thing to confess with the mouth, and
another thing to believe with the heart, for ye confess the Scriptures to
be God’s word, not because ye believe them, but because ye have received
such a tradition from your fathers, have heard it from the womb
unquestioned. O that this were engraven on your heart—that these commands,
these curses, these promises are divine truths, the words and the oath of
the Holy One! If every word of truth came stamped with his authority, and
were received in the name of God himself, what influence would it have on
the spirits and the practices of men? This would be a great reformer,
would reform more in a month, than church and state hath done these many
years. Why are rulers and people not converted and healed for all that is
spoken? Here it is, “Who believes our report?” Who believes that our
report is thy own testimony, O Lord? When ministers threaten you in God’s
name,—if his authority were stamped on the threatening, if men did
seriously apprehend it were God’s own voice, would they not tremble? When
the gospel and the joyful sound comes forth, if he apprehended that same
authority upon it, which ye who are convinced believe to be in the law,
would ye not be comforted? Finally, I may say, it is this point of
atheism, of inconsideration and brutishness, that destroys the multitude,
makes all means ineffectual to them, and retards the progress of
Christians. Men do not consider, that this word is the word of the
eternal, and true, and faithful God, and that not one jot of it will fail.
Here is a point of reformation I would put you to, if ye mind indeed to
reform, let this enter into your hearts and sink down, that the law and
gospel is the word of God, and resolve to come and hear preachings so, as
the voice “of Jesus Christ, the true and faithful witness.” If ye do not
take it so now, yet God will judge you so at the end. “He that despiseth
you, despiseth me, and he that hears not you, hears not me.” If ye thought
ye had to do with God every Sabbath, would ye come so carelessly, and be
so stupid and inconsiderate before the Judge of all the earth? But ye will
find in the end, that it was God whom ye knew not.
Sermon IX.
Isaiah i. 11.—“To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices
unto me? saith the Lord,” &c.
This is the word he calls them to hear and a strange word. Isaiah asks,
What mean your sacrifices? God will not have them. I think the people
would say in their own hearts, What means the prophet? What would the Lord
be at? Do we anything but what he commanded us? Is he angry at us for
obeying him? What means this word? Is he not repealing the statute and
ordinance he had made in Israel? If he had reproved us for breach of
commands, for omission and neglect of sacrifices, we would have taken with
it, but what means this reproof for well doing? The Lord is a hard master.
If we neglect sacrifices, and offer up the worst of the flock, he is
angry, if we have a care of them, and offer them punctually, and keep
appointed days precisely, he is angry. What shall we do to please him? I
think many of you are put to as great a non plus, when your prayers and
repentance and fasting are quarrelled, do ye not say in your hearts, we
know not what to do? Ministers are angry at us if we pray not, and our
praying they cry out against, they command us to repent and fast, and yet
say that God will abhor both these. This is a mystery, and we shall
endeavour to unfold it to you from the word. It concerns us to know how
God is pleased with our public services and fastings for the most part of
people have no more religion. Ye all, I know, desire to know what true
religion is. Consult the Scriptures, and search them, for there ye shall
find eternal life. We frame to ourselves a wrong pattern and copy of it,
and so we judge ourselves wrong. Our narrow spirits do not take in the
latitude of the Scripture’s religion, but taking in one part we exclude
another, and think God rigid if it be not taken off our hand so. But, I
pray, consider these three things, which seem to make up the good old way,
the religion of the Old and New Testaments—
_First_, Religion takes in all the commands,—it is universal, hath respect
to all the commandments, Psal. cxix. 6. It carries the two tables in both
hands, the first table in the right hand, and the second in the left.
These are so entirely conjoined, that if you receive not both, you cannot
receive any truly.
_Secondly_, It takes in all the man, his soul and spirit as well as his
body, nay, it principally includes that which is principal in the man, his
soul and spirit, his mind and affections. If ye divide these, ye have not
a man present but a body, and what fellowship can bodies have with him who
is a Spirit? If ye divide these among themselves, ye have not a spirit
indeed present if the mind be not present, surely the heart cannot, but if
the mind be, and the heart away, religion is not religion, but some empty
speculation. The mind cannot serve but by the heart, where the heart is,
there a man is reckoned to be.
_Thirdly_, It takes in Jesus Christ as all, and excludes altogether a
man’s self. He worships God in the spirit, but he rejoices not in himself,
and in his spirit, but in Jesus Christ, and hath no confidence in himself,
or the flesh, Phil. iii. 3, 8. It includes the soul and spirit, and all
the commands, but it denies them all, and embraces Jesus Christ by faith,
as the only object of glorying in and trusting in. All a man’s self
becomes dross in this consideration. Now, the first of these is drawn from
the last, therefore it appears first—I say, an endeavour in walking in
every thing commanded, of conforming our way to the present rule and
pattern, is a stream flowing from the pure heart within. A man’s soul and
affections must once be purified, before it sends out such streams in
conversation. And from whence doth that pure heart come? Is it the
fountain and original? No certainly. The heart is desperately wicked above
all things, and how will it cleanse itself? But this purity proceeds from
another fountain,—from faith in Jesus Christ, and it is this that lies
nearest the uncreated fountain Christ himself, it is the most immediate
conduit the mouth of the fountain or the bucket to draw out of the deep
wells of salvation. All these are conjoined in this order, 1 Tim. i.
5—“The end of the commandment is love.” Ye know love is said elsewhere to
be the fulfilling of the law, and when we say love, we mean all duties to
God and man, which love ought immediately to principle. Now this love
proceeds from a pure heart, cleansed and sanctified, which pure heart
proceeds from faith unfeigned. So then, we must go up in our searching
from external obedience all alongst, till we arrive at the inward fountain
of Christ dwelling in us by faith, and then have ye found true religion
indeed. Now, ye may think possibly, we have used too much circumlocution:
what is all this to the present purpose? Yes, very much. Ye shall find the
Lord rejecting this people’s public worship and solemn ordinances upon
these three grounds,—either they did not join with them the observation of
weightier commands, or they did not worship him in them with their
spirits, had not souls present, or they knew not the end and use for which
God had appointed these sacrifices and ceremonies, they did not see to the
end of all, which was Jesus Christ.
_First_, then, I say the people were much in external sacrifices and
ceremonies, commanded of God, but they were ignorant of the end of his
commands, and of the use of them. Ye know in themselves they had no
goodness, but only in relation to such an end as he pleased they should
lead to, but they stayed upon the ceremony and shadow, and were not led to
use it as a means for such an end; and so, though they fancied that they
obeyed, and pleased God, yet really they wholly perverted his meaning and
intention in the command; therefore doth the Lord plead with them in this
place for their sacrificing, as if it had been murder. They used to object
his commands. What, says the Lord, did I command these things? Who
required them? Meaning certainly, who required them for such an end, to
take away your sin? Who required them but as a shadow of the substance to
come? Who required them but as signs of that Lamb and sacrifice to be
offered up in the fulness of time? And forasmuch as ye pass over all
these, and think to please me with the external ceremony, was that ever my
intent or meaning? Certainly ye have fancied a new law of your own, I
never gave such a law; therefore it is said, Psal. l. 13.—God pleads just
after this manner, “Will I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of
goats?” &c.; and Micah vi. 7, “Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of
rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil?” He who hath no pleasure in
sinful men, what pleasure can he have in beasts? Therefore, it was to
signify to them (who thought God would be pleased with them for their
offering) that he could not endure them; it was worse to him to offer him
such a recompense, than if they had done none at all. He is only well
pleased in his well-beloved Son; and when they separate a lamb or a
bullock from the well-beloved, what was it to him more than “a dog’s neck”
or “swine’s flesh?” It was his creature, as these are, and no more, Isa.
lxvi. 3. Now that they looked never beyond the ceremonies, is evident,
because they boasted in them; they used to find out these as a remedy of
their sins, and a mean to pacify God’s wrath, Micah vi. 6. Paul bears
witness of it, 2 Cor. iii. 13-15. Moses had a vail of ceremonies over his
face, and the children of Israel could not steadfastly look to the end of
that mystery, Christ Jesus, but their minds were blinded, and are so to
this day in the reading of the scriptures; and this vail of hardness of
heart shall be done away when Christ returns to them again. Now, I say, it
is just so with us. There was never a people liker other than we are like
the Jews. We have many external ordinances, preaching, hearing, baptism,
communion, reading, singing, praying in public, extraordinary solemnities
of fasting and thanksgiving, works of discipline and government, public
reproof to sinners, confessions and absolutions. What would ye think if we
should change the terms of sacrifices and new moons, and speak all this to
you? To what purpose is the multitude of your fasts and feasts, of your
preachings and communions, of your praying in secret, and in your
families, of conference and prayer with others, of running to and fro to
hear preaching, to partake of the Lord’s table? I am full of them, I
delight not in them. When ye come here on the Sabbath, who required at
your hand to tread my courts? Come no more to hear the word, run no more
after communions, seek no more baptism to your children, call no more
solemn assemblies, it is all iniquity. O, say ye, that is a strange
preaching indeed! Must we pray no more, hear no more, sing no more? Did
not God command these? Why do ye discharge them? We do not mean so, that
these should not be, but they should be in another way: all these want the
soul and life of them, which is Jesus Christ in them. Do ye not think
yourselves religious, because ye frequent these? The multitude of the
people think that these please God, and pacify his wrath: ye have no other
thing in your mind but these. If ye can attain any sorrow or grief for
sin, or any tears to signify it, presently you absolve yourselves for your
repentance. The scandalous who appear in public, think the paying of a
penalty to the judge, and bowing the knee before the congregation,(284)
satisfies God. Ye miss nothing when ye have these. I speak to the
professors of religion also, who pretend to more knowledge than others,
when ye have gone about so many duties, ye are well satisfied if ye get
liberty in them. If ye can satisfy yourselves, ye doubt not of God’s
satisfaction; and if ye do not satisfy yourselves in your duties, ye
cannot believe his satisfaction. Ye get the ordinance, and miss nothing.
Now, I say, in all this ye do not reach to the end of this ministry, Jesus
Christ; ye do not steadfastly behold him, to empty yourselves in his
bosom, to turn over all the unrighteousness of your holy things upon him
who bears it. That which pleaseth you, is not “he in whom the Father is
well-pleased,” but the measure of your own duty. O, the establishing of
our own righteousness is the ruin of the visible Church! This is the grand
idol, and all sacrifice to it. Know, therefore, that the most part of your
performances are abomination and iniquity, because ye have so much
confidence in them, and put them not upon Christ as filthy rags, or do not
cover them with his righteousness, as well as your wickedness. I know ye
will say, that ye are not satisfied with them, and that is still the
matter of your exercise. Well, I affirm, in the Lord’s name, from that
ground, that ye have confidence in them, for if your diffidence and
disquietness arise from it, your confidence and peace must come from it
also. Is there any almost that maintain faith, except when their own
conditions please them well? And that faith I may call no faith, at least
not pure and cleanly entire faith. As for the multitude of you, you must
know this, that God is not pleased with your prayers, and fasting, and
hearing, &c. because ye have such an esteem of them, because ye can settle
yourselves against all threatenings, and never once remember of Jesus
Christ, or consider the end of his coming into the world; because ye find
no necessity of pardon for your prayers and righteousness, but stretch the
garment of these over the uncleanness of your practices. What delight hath
the Lord in them, when they are put in his Son’s place? Will he not be
jealous that his Son’s glory be not given to another?
In the _second_ place, the Lord rejects their performances, because there
was nothing but a mere shadow of service, and no worshipping of God in the
Spirit. Ye know what Christ saith, “God is a Spirit, and he that worships
him must do it in spirit and in truth,” John iv. 24. It is the heart and
soul that God delights in, “My son, give me thy heart,” for if thou give
not thy heart, I care for nothing else. The heart is the whole man. What a
man’s affection is, that he is. Light is not so,—it brings not the man
alongst with it. Christ Jesus hath given himself for us, and he requires
that we offer ourselves to him. If we offer a body to frequent his house,
our feet to tread in his courts, our ears to hear his word, what cares he
for it, as long as the soul doth not offer itself up in prayer or hearing?
And this was the sin of this people, Isaiah xxix. 13. “They draw near with
the lips, and their heart is far from the Lord.” Now are we not their
children, and have succeeded to this? Is there any thing almost in our
public services, but what is public? Is there any thing but what is seen
of men? Ye come to hear, ye sit and hear, and is there any more? The most
part have their minds wandering, no thoughts present; for your thoughts
are removed about your barns and corns, or some business in your head; and
if any have their thoughts present, yet where are affections, which are
the soul and spirit of religion, without which it is no true fire but wild
fire, if it be not both burning and shining? Are ye serious in these
ordinances? Or rather, are ye not more serious in any thing beside? And
now, especially, when God’s providence calls you to earnest thoughts, when
it cries to all men to enter into consideration of their own ways, I pray
you, is there any soul-affliction in your fasts even for a day? Is there
any real grief or token of it? Not a fast in Scripture without weeping! We
have kept many, and have never advanced so far. Shall the Lord then be
pacified? Will not his soul abhor them? How shall they appease him for
your other provocations, when they are as oil to the flame, to increase
his indignation? The most part of Christians are guilty here; we come to
the ordinances, as it were, to discharge a custom, and perform a ceremony,
that we may have it to say to our conscience that it is done, and there is
no more intent and purpose. We do not seek to have soul-communion with
God. We come to sermon to hear some new thing, or new truth, or new
fashion of it; to learn a notional experience of cases. But alas, this is
not the great purpose and use of these things. It is to have some new
sense of those things we know. We know already, but we should come to get
the truth more received in our love, to serve God in our spirits, and to
return to him ourselves in a sacrifice acceptable. This is the greater
half, if not the whole of religion,—love to Jesus Christ who loved us, and
living to him, because he died for us, and living to him because we love
him. Now, all our ordinances and duties should be channels to carry our
love to him, and occasions of venting our affections.
_Thirdly_, The Lord rejected this people’s services, because they were
exact and punctual in them, and neglected other parts of his commandments;
and this is clearly expressed here, “I will not hear” your prayers, though
there be many of them. Why? “Your hands are full of blood.” Ye come to
worship me, and pray to me, and yet there are many abominations in your
conversation, which you continue in, and do not challenge in yourselves.
Ye have unclean hands; and shall your prayers be accepted, which should
come up with pure hands? They took his covenant in their mouth, and
offered many sacrifices, but what have ye to do with these things, saith
the Lord, since ye hate to be reformed, since ye hate personal reformation
of your lives, and in your families? What have ye to do to profess to be
my people? Psal. l. 16, 17. The Lord requires an universality, if ye would
prove sincerity: if ye have respect to any of his commands, as his
commands, then will ye respect all. If ye be partial, and choose one duty
that is easy, and refuse another harder,—will come to the church and hear,
but will not pray at home,—will fast in public, but not in private,—then,
says the Lord, ye do not at all obey me, but your own humour; ye do not at
all fast unto me, but unto yourselves. As much as your interest lies in a
duty, so much are ye carried to it. And I take this to be the reason why
many are so eager in pursuing public ordinances, following communions, and
conferences with God’s people, ready to pray in public rather than alone.
If ye would follow them into their secret chamber, how much indifferency
is there! How great infrequency, how little fervency! Well, says the Lord,
did ye pray to me when ye prayed among others? No, ye prayed either to
yourselves, or the company, or both. Did ye seek me in a communion? No,
saith the Lord, ye sought not me, but yourselves: if ye sought me indeed
with others, you would be as earnest, if not more, to seek me alone, Zech.
vii. 6. And again, the Lord especially requires the weightier matters of
the law to be considered. As it was among the Jews, their ceremonies were
commanded, and so good; but they were not so much good in themselves as
because they were means appointed for another end and use. But the moral
law was binding in itself, and good in itself, without relation to another
thing; and therefore Christ lays this heavy charge to the Pharisees, “Ye
tithe mint and anise,” Matt. xxiii. 23. “Woe unto you, for ye neglect the
weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ye ought
to have done, and not left the other undone.” Are there not many who would
think it a great fault to stay away from the church on the Sabbath or week
day, and yet will not stick to swear,—to drink often? “Woe unto you, for
ye strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel;” therefore are the prophets full
of these expostulations. The people seemed to make conscience of
ceremonies and external ordinances, but they did not order their
conversation aright; they did not execute judgment, and relieve the
oppressed, did not walk soberly, did not mortify sinful lusts, &c. Alas,
we deceive ourselves with the noise of a covenant,(285) and a cause of
God; we cry it up as an antidote against all evils, use it as a charm,
even as the Jews did their temple; and, in the mean time, we do not care
how we walk before God, or with our neighbours: well, thus saith the Lord,
“Trust ye not in lying words,” &c. Jer. vii. 4, 5, 6. If drunkenness reign
among you, if filthiness, swearing, oppression, cruelty reign among you,
your covenant is but a lie, all your professions are but lying words, and
shall never keep you in your inheritances and dwellings. The Lord tells
you what he requires of you. Is it not to do justly, and walk humbly with
God? Mic. vi. 7. This is that which the grace of God teaches, to deny
“ungodliness and worldly lusts,” and to “live soberly, righteously, and
godly, towards your God, your neighbour, and yourself,” Tit. ii. 11, 12;
and this he prefers to your public ordinances, your fasting, covenanting,
preaching, and such like.(286) “Is not this to know me?” saith the Lord,
Jer. xxii. 15, 16. You think you know God when you can discourse well of
religion, and entertain conferences of practical cases. You think it is
knowledge to understand preachings and scripture; but thus saith the Lord,
to do justly to all men, to walk humbly towards God, to walk soberly in
yourselves, is more real knowledge of God, than all the volumes of doctors
contain, or the heads of professors. Is this knowledge of God to have a
long flourishing discourse containing much religion in it? Alas, no! to do
justly, to oppress none, to pray more in secret, to walk humbly and
soberly, this is to know the Lord. Practice is real knowledge indeed: it
argues, that what a man knows, he receives in love, that the truth hath a
deep impression on the heart, that the light shines into the heart to
inflame it. What is knowledge before God? As much as principles,
affection, and action, as much as hath influence on your conversations; if
you do not, and love not what you know, is that to know the Lord? Shall
not your knowledge be a testimony against your practice, and no more?
Sermon X.
Isaiah i. 16.—“Wash you, make you clean, put away the evil of your
doings from before mine eyes; cease to do evil,” &c.
If we would have a sum of pure and undefiled religion, here it is set down
in opposition to this people’s shadow of religion, that consisted in
external ordinances and rites. We think that God should be as well-pleased
with our service as we ourselves, therefore we choose his commands which
our humour hath no particular antipathy against and refuse others. But the
Lord will not be so served: as he will not share with the world, and
divide the soul and service of man with creatures, so as mammon should get
part, and he his part. No, if we choose the one, we must refuse the other;
for so will he not suffer his word and commands to be divided: there must
be some universality in respect of the gospel and the law, and a
conjunction of these two, or we cannot please him.
If religion do not include the gospel, we are yet upon the old covenant of
works, according to which none can be justified. If it do not include the
law in the hands of a mediator, then we turn the grace of God unto
wantonness. If it shut out Jesus Christ and have no use of him, how can
either we or our performances stand or be accepted before his holy eyes?
If it exclude the law that Christ came to establish, how can he be pleased
with our religion? both of these offer an indignity to the Son of God. The
sum, then, of Christian religion is believing and sanctification of the
Spirit unto obedience. That is the root and fountain, this is the fruit
and stream; justification of our persons, and sanctification of our lives
and hearts. This is pure religion and undefiled. And therefore Isaiah
says, “Wash you, make you clean,”—cleanse in the only true fountain of
Christ’s blood. It is not your purifications of the law, your many
washings with water and hyssop; it is not the blood of bulls and of goats
can purge your consciences from dead works: they do but purify your flesh,
but cannot wash your souls worse defiled. This blood of Jesus Christ is
that clean water that he must sprinkle on you, if you would be clean. If
you take any other water, any other righteousness but his, and wash
thyself therewith, suppose it be snow water that washeth cleanest—thy most
exact conversation, yet, he will plunge thee in the mire, till thine own
clothes abhor thee, Job ix. 30, 31. Now, when you have washed your persons
(ye need not, save to wash your feet, says Christ,)—your daily
conversation, reform it in the virtue of that blood, for we are not called
“to uncleanness, but unto holiness,” and therefore, “put away the evil of
your doings,” &c. God hath put away the guilt of your doings by
justification, now put ye away the evil of your doings by sanctification,
&c. And if ye would know what sanctification is, “cease to do evil,” do
not return to the old puddle to wallow in it. Ye that are cleansed by this
blood, O think how unbeseeming it is to you to defile yourselves again
with those things ye are cleansed from! but now, “learn to do well.” Ye
are given up to Christ, ye must be his disciples, and he will teach you.
“Learn of me,” saith Christ, (ye need no other law almost but his example,
he is a visible and speaking law), yet “seek judgment.” As ye ought to
look on my example, so especially ponder that word and rule of practice
and behaviour that I have left behind me, and given out as the lawgiver of
the redeemed. Have I redeemed you, and should not I be the redeemed and
ransomed one’s king? Is there any society in the world wants a law, order,
and government? Neither must ye who are delivered from bondage,
enfranchised and made free indeed. Now, ye should of all men most live by
a law. And when ye know that rule, then apply it to your several vocations
and callings. Let the magistrate act according to it, and every man
according to it. Religion consists not in a general notion, but
condescends to our particular practice, to reform it. You see then what we
would press upon your consciences. It is true religion that we would have
you persuaded unto. All men have some kind of religion, even heathens who
worship idols, but the true religion respects the true and living God.
Now, what is it to worship the true and living God? What is the service of
him that may be called religion indeed? Should we be the prescrivers of
it?(287) No certainly, he must carve solely in that, or else it cannot
please him, therefore “to the law and to the testimony,” if ye speak not
according to this, and worship not according to this word of God, “it is
because there is no light in you.” Ye may have a religion before men pure
and undefiled, but if it be not so before God and the Father, I pray you
to what purpose is it? I am sure it is all lost labour, nay, it is labour
with loss, instead of gain. O that ye were persuaded to look and search
the scriptures. Think ye to have eternal life out of them?—and think ye to
have eternal life by them, who do not labour to know the way of it set
down there? Every one of you hath a different model of religion, according
to your fancies and breedings, according as your lusts will suffer you.
The rule that the most part walk by is the course and example of the
world. Is not this darkness, and gross darkness? Others model their duties
according to their ability. They will do all they can do with ease, and
without troubling themselves, and they think God may be well pleased with
that. I pray you consider and hear the word of the Lord, and law of your
God. Hath he set down here the rule and perfect pattern of true religion,
and will ye never so much own it, as to examine yours according to it? The
scriptures are the touchstone, if you would not have a counterfeit
religion deceiving you in the end, when ye have trusted to it, I pray you
try it by the word of God. Oh! that this principle were once sunk into
your hearts,—I may not walk at random, if I please myself, and satisfy my
own will, if that be not also God’s will, I shall have neither gain nor
comfort of it. His will is manifested in his word,—I will search and find
what God hath required of me, for if I be not certain of his will, I may
be doing all my days, and sweating out my life, and yet lose my pains and
toil. I say, this word of the Lord that Isaiah calls to the people to
hear, ver. 10, will at length judge you. Your religion will be tried in
the day of accounts according to it, not according to your rules and
methods ye have prescribed unto yourselves. Now, if ye in the meantime
shall judge yourselves, according to another rule, and absolve yourselves,
and in the end God shall judge you according to this word, and condemn
you, were ye not fools in neglecting this word?
The whole will of God concerning your duty may be summed up in two, John
hath one of them, 1 John iii. 23, “And this is his commandment, that we
should believe on the name of his Son Jesus Christ, and love one another,
as he gave us commandment,” and Paul hath another to the Thessalonians, 1
Thess iv. 3, “This is the will of God, even your sanctification.” And
these two make up this text, so that it unites both gospel and law. The
commandment of the law comes forth, and it is found that we have broken
and are guilty, that we cannot answer for one of a thousand. The law
entering makes sin abound. Our inability, yea, impossibility of obedience
is more discovered. Well, then, the gospel proclaims the Lord Jesus Christ
for the Saviour of sinners, and commands us, under pain of damnation, to
believe in him,—to cast our souls on him, as one able to save, as one who
hath obeyed the law for us, so that this command of believing in Christ is
answerable to all the breaches of the law, and tends to make them up in
Christ. When he proclaimed the law on mount Sinai, with terror, that which
ye hear expressed is not his first commandment, which ye are in the first
instance to obey, for all these we have broken, but it hath a gospel
command in its bosom, it leads to Jesus Christ, and if ye could read the
mind of God in it, ye would resolve all these commands which condemn you
and curse you, into one command of believing in the Son, that ye may be
saved from that condemnation. And if ye obey this command, which is his
last command, and most peremptory, then are the breaches of all the rest
made up, the intent of all the rest is fulfilled, though not in your
obedience, yet in Christ’s, which is better than ours. Believing in Christ
presents God with a perfect righteousness, with an obedience even to the
death of the cross. When a sinner hears the holy and spiritual sense of
the law, and sees it in the light of God’s holiness, O how vile must he
appear to himself, and how must he abhor himself! What original pollution,
what actual pollution, what a fountain within, what uncleanness in streams
without, will discover itself! Now, when the most part of men get any
sight of this, presently they fall a washing and cleansing themselves, or
hiding their filthiness. And what water take they? Their own tears and
sorrows, their own resolutions, their own reformations. But alas, we are
still more plunged in our own filthiness; that is still marked before him,
because all that is as foul as that we would have washen away. What
garment do men take to hide themselves ordinarily? Is it not their own
righteousness? Is it not a skirt of some duty that is spread over
transgressions? Do not men think their sins hid, if they can mourn and
pray for a time? Their consciences are eased by reflection upon this. But
alas, thine iniquity is still marked! Shall filthiness hide filthiness?
Thy righteousness is as a vile garment, as a menstruous cloth, (Isa. lxiv.
6.) as well as thine unrighteousness, how then shall it cover thine
nakedness? Seeing it is so then, what is the Lord’s mind concerning our
cleansing? Seeing stretched out hands and many prayers will not do it,
what shall I do? The Lord hath showed thee what thou shalt do, and that
is, that thou do nothing in relation to that end, that thou shouldst
undertake to wash away the least spot by all thy repentance. Yet must thou
wash and make clean, and the water is brought new unto you, even the blood
of Jesus Christ that cleanseth from all sin. Wash in this blood, and ye
shall be clean. And what is it to wash in this blood? It is to believe in
Christ Jesus, to lay hold on the all sufficient virtue of it, to trust our
souls to it, as a sufficient ransom for all our sins, to spread the
covering of Christ’s righteousness over all our righteousness and
unrighteousness, as having both alike need to be hid from his holy eyes.
Jesus Christ “came by water and by blood,” (1 John v. 6), by water to
sanctify, and by blood to justify, by the power and cleansing virtue of
the Holy Ghost, to take away sin in the being of it, and by the virtue of
his blood, to take away sin in the guilt and condemnation of it.
Now, I conceive he presses a twofold exercise upon them in this washing,
and both have relation to the blood of Jesus Christ, to wit repentance and
faith. If they be not all one, yet they are in this point inseparably
conjoined. Repentance waters and saps the roots of believing, which
otherwise would dry up; therefore, instead of outward forms and ceremonies
of religion, he presseth them to inward sorrow and contrition of heart for
sin, that they might present an acceptable sacrifice to God, “a contrite
heart.” This is more pleasing than many specious duties of men without,
Psal. l. 7, &c. But when I press upon you repentance, do not conceive that
we would have it preparatory to faith, that ye should sit down and mourn
for your sins for a time, till your hearts be so far humbled, and then ye
might come as prepared and fitted to Jesus Christ. This is the mistake of
many Christians, which keeps them from solid settling. We find it
ordinary, souls making scruples and objections against coming to Jesus
Christ, because of want of such preparations, of measures of humiliation
and contrition, which they prescribe to themselves, or do behold in
others. And so they sit down and apply themselves to such a work, apply
their consciences to the law and curse; and they find, instead of
softening, hardness, instead of contrition of spirit, more dulness and
security; at least they cannot get satisfaction to themselves in that they
seek, and thus they hang their head over their impenitent hearts, and
lament, not so much that repentance is not, as that they cannot find it in
themselves. Alas! there are many diseases in this one malady. If it were
embowelled unto you, ye would not believe that such a way were so
contradictory to the gospel. For, first, ye who are so, have this
principle in your hearts, which is the foundation of it: I cannot come to
Christ so unclean, I must be a little washen ere I come, the most gross
uncleanness and hardness of my heart must be taken away, and so I shall be
accepted. Alas, what derogation is this to the blessed Saviour! What
absurdity is it! I am too unclean to come to the fountain, I must be a
little purged before I come to this fountain that cleanseth from all sin.
I pray you, why was the fountain opened? Was it not for sin and
uncleanness? And this thou sayest by interpretation, if I were so and so
humbled, then I might come, and be worthy to come; when the want of such a
measure debars thee as unworthy, doth not the having of it in thy
estimation make thee worthy? And so ye come with a present in your hand to
Jesus Christ, with a price and reward to him who gives freely. Again, thou
deniest Christ to be the only fountain of all grace, and so it is most
dishonourable to him. If thou would have repentance before thou come to
him, where shalt thou have it? Wilt thou find it in thy heart, which is
desperately wicked? Wilt thou seek it of God, and not seek it in the
mediator Jesus Christ? God out of a mediator will not hear thee. In a
word, there is both extreme sin and extreme folly in this way: great sin,
because it contradicts the tenor of the gospel, it dishonours the Lord
Jesus, the exalted Prince, as if he were not the fountain of all grace; it
is contrary both to the freedom of his grace, and to the fulness of it
also. It is great folly, for thou leavest the living fountain, and goest
seeking water in a wilderness; thou leavest the garden where all herbs
grow, and wanderest abroad to the wild mountains; and because thou canst
not find what thou seekest, thou sittest down and weepest beside it.
Repentance is in Christ, and no repentance so pleasing to God as the
mournings and relentings of a pardoned sinner; but thou seekest it far
from him, yea, refusest him for want of that which thou mayest have by
choosing him. Therefore we declare this unto you, that whatever ye be,
whatever ye want, if ye think ye stand in need of Jesus Christ, embrace
him. If ye be exceeding vile in your own eyes, and cannot get repentance
as ye would to cleanse yourselves, here is the fountain opened, and ready
to wash in. Yet this we must tell you, that no sinner can believe but he
that repents,(288) not because repentance is required as a preparation to
give a man a warrant and right to believe,—I know no ground of faith but
our necessity, and the Lord’s promise and command unto us,—but because no
soul can truly fly into Jesus Christ to escape sin’s guilt, but he that
desires to be delivered from sin itself; and therefore the most part of
you fancy a faith which you have not, because there is no possibility that
men will come out of themselves, till they be pressed out by discovered
sin and misery within. Your woulds and wishes after Christ and salvation,
that many of you have, are not the real exercises of your soul’s flying
unto him for salvation. If ye did indeed turn into Jesus Christ, your
hearts would turn the back upon sin, and these sins ye seek remission of.
Now, all the desire that many men have of Christ, is this,—I would fain
have his salvation, if I might keep my sin; I would gladly be delivered
from the guilt of sin, if he would let me keep still the sin. But will
Christ make any such bargain?
If this blood only wash from sin, O how many lie in their sins, and wallow
in their filthiness! “There is a generation pure in their own eyes, and
yet are not washed from their filthiness,” Prov. xxx. 12. O that ye
believed this! If ye be not now washed, eternity shall find you unclean,
and woe to the soul that enters eternity with all the pollution of its
sins: can such a soul enter into the high and holy place, the clean city?
No, certainly; it must be without among the dogs and swine, it must be
kept in darkness for ever. It is, then, of great importance that ye be
washen from your filthiness. Now, I ask you, is it so or not? Are ye made
clean and washen from the guilt of your sins? Every one of you almost will
say so and think so; and yet says the scripture, “There is a generation
pure in their own eyes, and yet are not washed.” Is there a generation
such? Is there any such? Oh! then, think it is possible you may be
mistaken in the opinion of your own cleanness. Do any conceive themselves
pardoned, and yet are not so? Think it is possible you may have deceived
yourselves, especially since ye have never examined it. But are there so
many so, a whole generation,—the most part of men? Then, as you love your
souls, try, for it is certain that the most part of you must be deceived.
Is there a generation in the visible church not washen, and yet every one
thinks himself clean? Then certainly the most part are in a great
delusion. Will ye then once examine whether or not ye be deluded with
them? It shall be your peace to know it, while it may be amended. But how
comes it to pass, that so many hearing of the gospel, and lying near this
fountain, are not cleansed? I think certainly, because they will not have
a thorough cleansing, they get none at all. All men would love Christ’s
blood well to pardon sin, but who will accept of the water to sanctify
them from sin? But Christ came with both. Shall this blood be spent upon
numbers of you, who have no respect to it, but would still wallow in your
filthiness? Would ye have God pardoning these sins ye never throughly
resolved to quit? But how is it that so many men are clean in their own
eyes, and yet not washed? I think indeed, the reason of it is, they make a
kind of washing, which they apprehend sufficient, and yet know not the
true fountain. We find men taking much soap and nitre, when convinced of
sin, or charged with it, and thereupon soon absolving themselves. If ye
ask their grounds, they will tell you, they repent and are sorry for it;
they purpose to make amends, and they think amendment a good compensation
for the past wrong. They will, it may be, vow to drink no more for a year
after they have been drunk; they will confess their sin in public, and all
this they do without having any thought of Jesus Christ, or the end of his
coming, and can absolve themselves from such grounds, though in the mean
time Christ come not so much as in their mind; and therefore are they not
really washed. All thy righteousness is unclean before God, and thy
repentances defile thee: and yet because of some such duties, though
deceivest thyself, and are clean in thine own eyes. These have some beauty
in thy eyes, and thou puttest them between thy filthiness and thy eye, and
so conceivest that thou art clean. I think a reason also, why many men are
clean in their own eyes, and conceive that God hath pardoned their sin, is
because they have forgotten it. It is not recent in their memory, and
makes no present wound in their conscience: and therefore, they apprehend
God such as themselves,—they think he hath forgotten about it also. But
oh! how terrible shall it be, when God brings to remembrance, and sets our
sins in order before us! Ye think God cares not for your sins, that he
forgives them before thee, and thou shalt know they are still marked
before him.
Ye who have washen in this blood, ye may rejoice, for it shall make you
clean every whit. Your iniquities that so defiled you, shall not be found.
O the precious virtue of that blood that can purge away a soul’s spots!
All the art of men and angels could not reach this. This redemption and
cleansing was precious, and would have ceased for ever; but this blood is
the ransom, this blood cleanseth, and so perfectly, that it shall not
appear, not only to men’s eyes, but also God’s piercing eye. Sinners, quit
your own righteousness,—why defile ye yourselves more? When your eyes are
opened, ye will find it so. Here is washing; apply yourselves to this
fountain; and if ye do indeed so; if ye expect cleansing from Jesus
Christ, I pray you return not to the puddle. Ye are not washen from sin,
to sin more, and defile yourselves more; if ye think ye have liberty to do
so, ye have no part in this blood.
Sermon XI.
Isaiah i. 16.—“Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your
doings from before mine eyes; cease to do evil,” &c.
There are two evils in sin,—one is the nature of it, another the fruit and
sad effect of it. In itself it is filthiness, and contrary to God’s
holiness; an abasing of the immortal soul; a spot in the face of the Lord
of the creatures, that hath far debased him under them all. Though it be
so unnatural to us, yet it is now in our fallen estate become, as it were,
natural, so that men agree with it, as if it were sunk and drunk into the
very soul of man. The other is guilt and desert of punishment and
obligation to it. All men hate this, but they cannot hold it off. They eat
the tree and fruit of death, they must eat death also: they must have the
wages of sin, who have wrought for it. Now, the gospel hath found a remedy
for lost man in Jesus Christ; he comes in the gospel with a twofold
blessing, a twofold virtue, a pardoning virtue and a sanctifying virtue,
“water and blood,” 1 John v. 6. He comes to forgive sin, and to subdue
sin; to remove the guilt of it, and then the self(289) of it. God’s
appointment had inseparably joined them; and Christ came not to dissolve
the law, but to establish it. If he had taken away the punishment, and
left the sin in its being, he had weakened the law and the prophets. That
conjunction of sin and wrath, which is both by divine appointment, and
suitable also unto their own natures, must stand, that divine justice may
be entire; and therefore, he that comes to redeem us from the curse of the
law, hath also this commission to redeem from sin and all transgressions
of the law, Rom. xi. 26, and Gal. iii. 13. He that turns away the wrath of
God from men, turns also ungodliness from them which provoked his wrath;
and so he is a complete redeemer, and a complete redeemer he had not been
otherwise. If he had removed wrath only, and left us under the bondage of
sin, it had not been half redemption; “he that commits sin, is the servant
of sin.” But this is perfect freedom and liberty, to be made free from
sin, for it was sin that subjected us to wrath, and so was the first
tyrant and the greatest. The gospel then comes with a joyful sound unto
you, but many of you mistake it, and apprehend it to be a doctrine of
liberty and peace, and that unto sin; but if it were so, it were no joyful
sound. If there were proclaimed a liberty to all men to do as they list,
no punishment, no wrath to be feared, I would think that doctrine no glad
news, it were but the perpetuating of the bondage of a reasonable soul.
But this is glad news,—a delivery and freedom proclaimed in the gospel.
From what? Not unto sin, but from sin; and this is to be free indeed. We
owe more to Jesus Christ for this, than for redemption from wrath, because
sin is a greater evil than wrath; yea, wrath were not so, if sin were not.
Therefore he exhorts to wash, and wash so that they may make clean. Take
Jesus Christ for justification and sanctification,—employ both the water
and the blood that he hath come with. But because all men pretend a
willingness to have Christ their Saviour, and their sins pardoned through
his blood, who, notwithstanding, hate to be reformed, and would seek no
more of Christ: therefore, he branches out that part of the exhortation in
several particulars. All men have a general liking of remission of sins,
but renouncing of it is to many a hard doctrine. They would be glad that
God put their evils out of his sight, by passing them by, and forgetting
them; but they will not be at the pains of putting away their evils from
his sight; and therefore, the gospel which comprehends these two united,
is not really received by many, who pretend to be followers of it. This is
his command, that ye believe. Some pretend to obey this, and yet have no
regard of that other part of his will, even their sanctification; and
therefore their faith is dead, it is a fancy. If ye did indeed believe and
receive Christ for pardon of sin, it were not possible but your souls
would be engaged and constrained to endeavour to walk in all
well-pleasing. But it is an evident token of one that is not washed from
his sin, and believes not in Christ, if he conceive within his heart a
greater latitude and liberty to walk after the flesh, and be emboldened to
continue in sin, because of his grace and mercy; and yet such are the most
part of you. Upon what ground do you delay repentance? Upon what
presumption do ye continue in your sins, and put over the serious study of
holiness, till a more fit time? Is it not from an apprehension of the
grace and mercy of God, that ye think ye may return any time and be
accepted, and so ye may in the meantime take as much pleasure in sin as
you can, seeing ye may get leave also for God’s mercy? I pray you
consider, that you have never apprehended God’s mercy aright, ye are yet
in your sins, and certainly as yet are not washed from them.
“Put away the evil,” &c. When the Spirit convinces a soul, he convinces a
man not only of evil doings but of the evil of his doings; not only of
sin, but of the sinfulness of sin; and not only of those actions which are
in themselves sinful, but also of the iniquity of holy things. I think no
man will come to wash in Christ’s blood, till this be discovered. If he
see much wickedness, many evil doings, yet he will labour to wash away
these by his own tears, and repentance, and well-doing. As long as he hath
any good actions, as prayers, fasting, and such like, he will cover his
evil doings by them; he will spread the skirts of such righteousness over
his uncleanness; and when he hath hid it from his own eyes, he apprehends
that he hath hid it from God’s also. He will wash his bloody hands with
many prayers, and thinks they may be clean enough. We see blasphemers of
God’s name use to join a prayer for forgiveness with their oath and curse,
and they never trouble themselves more. O what mocking of God is this!
Now, as long as it is thus, there is no employment for the Son of God’s
blood; they can do their own turn. Men will not come to Christ, because it
is the best way, if they see any else beside. None will come till they see
it is the only way; none can wash in Christ, except they wash all. If ye
have any thing that needs not washing, his blood is not for you; his
righteousness is not known, when ye establish all, or a part of your own.
I fear the most part of you have no employment for Christ; ye have extreme
need of him, but ye know it not, for there are many things which ye will
not number among your sins,—your prayers, your hearing, reading, singing,
public and private worship, giving alms, &c. How many of you were never
convinced of any sin in these! Do ye not conceive God is well-pleased with
you for them? Your conscience hath convinced you, it may he, of gross
sins, as drunkenness, filthiness, swearing, &c. But ye are not convinced
for your well doing, ye find not a necessity of a Mediator for these. I
think many of you never confessed any such thing, except in a general
notion. Alas, how ignorant are men of themselves! We are unclean, how
can any thing we do cleanse us? Are not we unclean, and do not our hands
touch our own works? Shall not then our own uncleanness defile our good
actions, more than they can cleanse us? Hag. ii. 13. The ignorance of
this makes men go about to build up their old ruined righteousness, and
still seek something in themselves, to make up wants in themselves.
Always, when the light of God hath discovered you to yourselves, so that
ye can turn your eye nowhere, but uncleanness fills it, though your
conversation be blameless in the world, so as men can challenge nothing
yet ye have found within and without nothing, but matter of mourning, I
say, this is an evidence that the Spirit hath sinned and enlightened thy
darkness. Now, when thou hast fled unto Jesus Christ for a covering to
thy righteousness, as well as unrighteousness, it remains that thou now
put away the evil of thy doings,—put not away thy doings, but the evil of
them. We challenge your prayers, services, and public duties, even as the
prophet did we declare unto you that God is as ill pleased with them, as
your drunkenness, whoring, intemperance, &c. The most part of you are no
more acceptable when ye come to the church, than when ye go to the
tavern,—your praying and cursing is almost all one. What shall we do
then, say ye? Shalt we pray no more, and hear no more? No, say I, put not
away your prayers and ordinances, but put away the evil of them from
before his sight. Rather multiply your doings, but destroy the evil and
iniquity of your doings. And there is one evil or two above all, that
makes them hateful to him: ye trust too much in them. Here is the
iniquity, the idol of jealousy set up: ye make your doings your
righteousness, and in that notion they are abomination. There is nothing
makes your worship of God so hateful as this, ye think so much of it, and
justify yourself by it, and then God knows what it is that ye so magnify,
and make the ground of your claim to salvation. It is even an empty
ceremony, a shadow without substance, a body without a soul. You speak
and look and hear, you exercise some outward senses but no inward
affection, and what should that be to him, who is a Spirit?
They did not observe the iniquity of their holy things, and therefore are
they marked by him—they are in his sight. They did not see so many faults
in their prayers and services, they wondered why God did chide them so
much, but God marks what we miss, he remembers when we forget. We cover
ourselves with a wall of external duties, and think to hide all the
rottenness of our hearts, but it will not be hid from him, before whom
hell hath no covering. All hearts are open and naked before him. Your
secret sins are in the light of his countenance. Men hear you pray, see
you present at worship, they know no more, at least they see no more, nay,
but the formality of thy worship, the wanderings of thy mind are in his
sight. And, O how excellent a rule of walking were this, to do all in his
sight and presence! O that ye were persuaded in your hearts of his all
seeing, all searching eye, and all knowing mind! Would ye not be more
solicitous and anxious anent the frame of your hearts, than the liberty of
your speech or external gesture? O how would men retire within themselves,
to fashion their spirits before this all searching and all knowing Spirit!
If ye do not observe the evils of your hearts and ways, they are in his
sight, and this will spoil all acceptance of the good of them. If ye
observe the evils of your well doing, and bring these also to the fountain
to wash them, and be about this earnest endeavour of perfecting holiness,
of perfecting well doings in the power and fear of God, then certainly he
will not set your sins in the light of his countenance, the good of your
way shall come before him, and the evil of it Christ shall take away.
“Cease to do evil,” &c. These are the two legs a Christian walks on, if
he want any of them, he is lame and cannot go equally,—ceasing from evil,
and doing good, nay, they are so united, that the one cannot subsist
without the other. If a man do not cease from evil and his former lusts,
he cannot do well, or perfect holiness. There are many different
dispositions and conditions of men, there are generally one of two. Some
have a kind of abstinence from many gross sins and are called civil honest
men,—they can abide an inquest and censure of all their neighbours, they
can say no ill of them. But alas, there is as little good to be said; he
drinks not, swears not, whores not, steals not. Nay, but what doth he
well? Alas, the world cannot tell what he doth, for he prays not in
secret, nor in his family,—he is void of some offences towards men, but
there are many duties called to, towards both God and men, he is a
stranger to. He oppresses not the poor, nay, but he is not charitable
either to give to them, he defrauds no man, but whom helps he by his
means? Again, there are others, they will boast of some things done, they
pray, they keep the church well, they do many good turns, and yet for all
that, they do not cease to do evil. They were drunkards, so they are, they
can swear for all their prayers, are given to contention, to lying, to
filthiness, &c. Now, I say, neither of these religions is pure and
undefiled. Religion is a thorough and entire change, it is like a new
creation, that must destroy the first subject, to get place for that which
is to come. It is a putting off old garments, to put on new, the putting
off an old form and engraven image, to make place for a new engraving. Men
do not put a seal above a seal, but deface the old, and so put on the new,
men do not put new clothes upon the old, but put the old off, and so they
have place for the new. Religion must have a naked man. Godliness is a new
suit, that will not go on upon so many lusts, no, no, it is more meet and
more conformed unto the inwards of the soul than so. The cold must go out
as the heat comes in. Many men do not change their garments, but mend
them, put some new pieces unto them. They retain their old lusts, their
heart idols, and they will add unto these a patch of some external
obedience, but alas, is this godliness? Hypocrisy will be content of a
mixture,—sin is the harlot, whose heart could endure to see the child
parted. It can give God a part, to get leave to brook the most part; sin
will give God liberty to take some of the outward man, if it keep the
heart and soul. But God will not reckon on these terms, he will have all
the man or nothing, for he is the righteous owner. True godliness cannot
mix so, but false and counterfeit may do it well. Other men, again,
possibly unclothe themselves of some practices, but they put on new
clothing, they reform some passages for fear of censure, or shame, or such
like. They are found, it may be, blameless, either because so educated, or
their disposition is against particular gross sins, but they are not
clothed upon with holiness and well doing, and so they are but naked and
bare in God’s sight, not beautiful. They have swept their house, and some
devil put out or kept out, but because the good Spirit enters not,
ordinarily seven worse enter again into such men.
There is a great moment(290) of persuasion in this order of the
exhortation, “Wash you,” and then, “put away the evil of your doings,” and
“cease to do evil.” Do not continue in your former customs. It is strange,
how contrary our hearts are to God, we use to turn grace unto wantonness,
we use to take more liberty to sin, when we conceive we are pardoned. But
I do not know any more strong and constraining persuasion to forsake sin,
than the consideration of the forgiving of it might yield. O what an
inducement and grand argument to renouncing of evils, is the consideration
of the remission of them! This is even that ye are now called unto, who
have fled to Jesus to escape wrath what should ye be taken up with, in all
the world but this,—to live to him henceforth, who died for us,—to forsake
our own old way, and that from the constraining principle of love to him,
2 Cor. v. 14, 15. O that ye would enforce your own hearts with such a
thought, when there are any solicitations to sin, to former lusts! Should
I, that am dead to sin, live any longer therein? Rom. vi. 2. Should I who
am washed from such pollutions, return again to the pollutions of the
world? Should I again defile myself, who am cleansed by so precious blood,
and forget him that washed me? Should I return with the dog to the vomit,
and with the sow to the puddle? God forbid I pray you consider. If you be
Christians indeed, give a proof of it. What hath Jesus Christ done for
you? He hath given himself, his own precious blood, a ransom for us, will
ye not give up yourselves to him? Will not ye give him your sins and
lusts, which are not yourself, but enemies to yourself? Will not ye put
away these ills, that he came into this world to destroy? Art thou a
Christian, and are there yet so many sins, and works of the devil reigning
in thee, and set up in God’s sight?
What an inconsistency is this! If thou be his follower, thou must put
these away. Give them a bill of divorcement, never to turn again. Many a
man parts with his sin, because it leaves him, he puts it not away,
temptation goes, and occasion goes away, but the root of it abides within
him. Many men have particular jars with their corruptions, but they
reconcile again, as differences between married persons. They do not
arise(291) to hate their sin in its sinful nature. But if thou hate it,
then put it away. And who would not hate that which Christ so hated, that
he came to destroy it? 1 John iii. 5. What a great indignity must it be to
the gospel, to make that the ground of living in sin, which is pressed, in
it, as the grand persuasion to forsake it? Seeing we are washed from the
guilt of it, O let us not love to keep the stain and filth of it! Why are
we washen? Was it not Christ’s great intendment and purpose, to purify to
himself a holy people? We are washen from the guilt of our sins, and is it
to defile again? Is it not rather to keep ourselves henceforth clean, that
we may be presented holy and unblameable in his sight,—that we may seek to
be as like heaven as may be. But who ceases to do these evils, that he
says are pardoned? Who puts away the evil of these doings, the guilt
whereof he thinks God hath put away? Could ye find in your hearts to
entertain those evils so familiarly, to pour out your souls unto them, if
that peace of God were indeed spoken unto you? Would not the reflex of his
love prove more constraining on your hearts? Were it possible, that if ye
did indeed consider, that your lusts cost Christ a dear price to shed his
blood, that your pleasures made his soul heavy to death, and that he hath
laid down his life to ransom you from hell, were it possible, I say, that
ye would live still in these lusts, and choose these pleasures of sin,
which were so bitter to our Lord Jesus? I beseech you be not deceived,—if
ye love the puddle still, that ye cannot live out of it, do not say that
ye are washed. Ye may have washen yourselves with soap and nitre, but the
blood of Christ hath not cleansed; for, if that blood sprinkled your
conscience once, to give you an answer to all challenges, it could not but
send forth streams to purify the heart, and so the whole man. The blood
and water might be joined, the justifying Saviour, and the sanctifying
Spirit, for both these are in this gospel washing, 1 Cor vi. 11, 1 John v.
6. “This is he that came by water and blood, even Jesus Christ, not by
water only, but by water and blood.” Not by water only, but by blood also,
and I say, not by blood only, but by water also. The very purpose of
forgiveness is not to lay a foundation for more sin, but that men may sin
no more, but break off their sins. It is indeed impossible for a man to
amend his ways, till he be pardoned, for his sin stands betwixt him and
God. God is a consuming fire—the guilt of it hinders all meeting of the
soul with God, at least all influence from him. But when an open door is
made in Christ, that men may come and treat with God, notwithstanding of
rebellions, and have the curse relaxed, O how may he go about his duty
comfortably! Am I escaped from hell, why should I any more walk in the way
to it? And now he hath the Spirit given for the asking. There are some
cessations from sin, that are not real forsakings of it, and ceasings from
it. You know men will abstain from eating for a season, that they may be
made ripe for it at another time. Some do not cease from sin, but delay it
only, they put it not away, but put it off only for another time, till a
fitter occasion and opportunity. And this is so far from ceasing from it,
that it is rather a deliberate choice of it, and election of conveniency
for it. There may be some pure and simple ceasings from sin, mere
abstinence, or rather mere absence of sin for a season, that is not
ceasing from doing evil. The Christian’s ceasing hath much action in it.
It is such a ceasing from doing evil, that it is a putting away of evil,
it hath a soul and spirit joined in that cessation. Sin requires violence
to put it out where it hath haunted,—it is an intruding guest, and a
usurping guest. It comes in first as a supplicant and beggar, prays for a
little lodging for a night, and promises to be gone. The temptation speaks
but for a little time, even the present time, for a little one,—it seeks
but little at first, lest it be denied, but if once it be received into
the soul, it presently becomes master, and can command its own time, and
its abode. Then ye will not so easily put it out as ye could hold it out,
for it is now joined with that wicked, desperate party within you, the
heart, and these united forces are too strong for you. According as a lust
is one with a man’s heart, or hath nearer connection with his heart and
soul, it is the worse to put away: for, will ye drive a man from himself?
It is the cutting off a right hand, or plucking out of a right eye. To
make a man cease from such evils, requires that a stronger power be within
him than is in the world. Men may cease for a time, for want of occasions
or temptations to sin, when there is no active principle in them,
restraining or keeping their souls from such sins as appear after, when no
sooner is occasion offered, but they run as the horse to his course, or
the stone falleth downward,—they receive fire as easily as dry stubble.
That is not Christian ceasing, which is that which the soul argues itself
into, from grounds of the gospel. Should I, who am dead to sin, live any
longer therein? This is a principle of cessation, and this is true
liberty,—when the soul can abstain from present temptations upon such
grounds and persuasions of the gospel, then it is really above itself and
above the world, then hath it that true victory. Many men cease only from
sin, because sin ceases from them, they have not left it, but it hath left
them. The old man thinks himself a changed man, because he wallows not in
the lusts of the flesh, as in his youth. But, alas! no thanks to him for
that, he hath not ceased from his lusts. But temptations to him, or power
and ability in him to follow them hath ceased,—there is no change in his
spirit within, for he can talk of his former sins with pleasure, he
continues in other evils as bad, but more suitable to his age. In a word,
he is so inwardly, that if he were in his body, and occasions offering as
before, he would be just the same. Some, again, cease from some evils,
from some principles, but, alas! they are no Christian principles. What
restrains the multitude of civilians from gross scandals? Is it any thing
but affectation of a good name and report in the world? Is it not fear of
reproach or censure? Is it not because possibly they have no particular
inclination to such evils? And yet there are many other evils of the heart
as evil though more subtile, that they please themselves in, as pride,
covetousness, malice, envy, ambition, &c. What shall all your abstinence
be accounted of, when it is not love to Jesus Christ, or hatred of sin,
that principles it? It is not the outward abstinence that will commend
you such it is, as the principles of it are. And these only are the true
Christian principles of mortification,—love of Jesus Christ, which
constrains men to live no more to themselves, but to be new creatures, 2
Cor. v. 14, 15; and hatred of sin in its nature as sin a Christian should
have a mortal hatred of it, as his mortal enemy. It is not Christianity to
abstain from some fleshly lusts, if ye consider them not as your soul’s
enemies, 1 Peter ii. 11. “Ye that love the Lord hate evil,” Psal. xcvii.
10. These are chained together. David’s hatred was a soul-hatred, an
abhorrency, Psal. cxix. 163, “I hate and abhor lying.” It is like the
natural antipathies that are among creatures, the soul hates not only the
person of it, but the nature of it also. Men often hate sin, only as it
is circumstantiate, but Christian hatred is a hatred of the nature, like
the deadly feuds, which are enmities against the kind and name. “I will
put enmity between thy seed,” &c. It is a “perfect hatred,” Psal. cxxxix.
22. And so it cannot endure any sin, because all is contrary to God’s
holiness and offensive to his Spirit. I would think it easier to forsake
all evil, and cease from doing any evil, I mean, presumptuously, with a
willing mind and endeavour, than indeed to forsake one, for as long as ye
entertain so many lusts like it, they shall make way for it. It were
easier to keep the whole commandments in an evangelical sense, than indeed
to keep any one, for all of them help another, and subsist they cannot one
without another, so that ye take a foolish course, who go about particular
reformations. Ye scandalous sinners profess that ye will amend the
particular fault ye are guilty of, and, in the mean time, you take no heed
to your souls and lives, therefore it shall be either in vain, or not
acceptable. How pleasant a life would Christians have, if they would
indeed be persuaded to be altogether Christians! The halving of it
neither pleaseth God nor delights you, it keeps you but in continual
torment between God and Baal. Your own lusts usurp over you, and that of
Christ in you challenges the supremacy, so ye are as men under two
masters, each striving for the place, and were it not better to be under
one settled government? If there be any tenderness of God in your hearts,
or light in your consciences, they cannot but testify against your lusts,
these strange lords. Your lusts, again, they drive you on against your
conscience; thus ye are divided and tormented betwixt two,—your own
conscience and affections. You have thus the pain of religion, and know
not the true pleasure of it. You are marred in the pleasures of sin,
conscience and the love of God is a worm to eat that gourd. It is gall and
vinegar mixed in with them. Were it not more wisdom to be either one thing
or another? If ye will have the pleasures of sin for a season, take them
wholly, and renounce God, and see if your heart can endure that. If your
heart cannot condescend to that, I pray you renounce them wholly, and ye
shall find more exquisite and sure pleasures in godliness, at his right
hand. O what a noble entertainment hath the soul in God; the peace and joy
of the Holy Ghost is a kingdom indeed!
Sermon XII.
Isaiah xxvi. 3.—“Thou shall keep him in perfect peace, whose mind
is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.”
All men love to have privileges above others. Every one is upon the design
and search after some well-being, since Adam lost that which was true
happiness. We all agree upon the general notion of it, but presently men
divide in the following of particulars. Here all men are united in seeking
after some good; something to satisfy their souls, and satiate their
desires. Nay, but they scatter presently in the prosecution of it,
because, according to every man’s fancy and corrupt humour, they attribute
that good unto diverse things; and when they meet with disappointment,
they change their opinion of that, but are made no wiser, for they turn
from one to another of that same kind, in which their imagination hath
supposed blessedness to be; and therefore they will return to that which
they first loathed and rejected. Is there, then, no such thing in the
world as blessedness? Is it not to be found among men? Are all men’s
insatiable desires in vain? Is a creature made up and composed of desires,
to keep it in continual torment and vexation of spirit? No certainly, it
is, and it is found by some. All the world strives about it, but the man
only who trusts and believes in God, he it is, who carries it away from
them,—who hath this privilege beyond the world. And why do so many miss
it? Because they do not see or suspect that it is blessedness indeed which
he enjoys; but, on the contrary, their corrupted imaginations represent
godliness, and a godly man’s self-indigency and dependence on God, as the
greatest misery and shame. The godly man hides not his blessedness from
the world; no, he proclaims it when he hath found it,—he would that all
enjoyed it with him. And if there were no more to declare that it doth not
consist in worldly things, this might suffice—they are not communicable to
many, without the prejudice and loss of every one. But none will believe
his report of his own estate.
If ye would consider, here is that which men toil for,—compass sea and
land for; here it is; “near thee in thy mouth.” It is not in heaven, that
thou shouldst say, How shall I ascend to it? It is not in hell below, that
thou shouldst say, Who shall descend? It is not in the ends of the earth.
No. It is “near thee, in thy mouth.” It is not beyond the sea, but it is
“near thee in thy mouth, even the word of faith,” which Christ preached,
Rom. x. 6-8. And what says that word? Believe with thy heart, and thou
shall be saved; trust in God, and depend on him, and ye shall have peace,
and that perfect peace; and this peace shall be kept by God himself.
“Blessed, then, is the man that trusts in the Lord,” Psal. xl. 4. Ye make
a long journey in vain; ye spend your labour and money in vain; all the
pains might be saved: it is not where ye seek it. Ye travel about many
creatures; ye go to many doors, and inquire for happiness and peace, but
ye go too far off; ye need not search so many coasts, it is nearer hand,
in this word of the gospel—the joyful sound; it is this that proclaims
peace. Peace is a comprehensive word, especially in scripture. It was the
Jews’ salutation, “Peace be to you;” meaning happiness and all good
things; it is Christ’s salutation, “Grace and peace.” Grace is holiness,
peace is happiness, and these are either one, or inseparably conjoined as
one. This was the angels’ song, “Glory to God, peace on earth,” Luke ii.
14. Blessedness was restored, or brought near to be restored, to miserable
man, by Jesus Christ; and upon the apprehension of this, angels sing. It
was this Christ came into the world with; and when he went away, he left
this legacy to his children, “My peace I leave you,” John xiv. 27. We lost
happiness, and all men are on a vain pursuit of it since, but it is found,
and found by one of our kin. Our Lord Jesus, our elder brother, he hath
found it, or made it, and brought it near us in the gospel for the
receiving; and whoso receives him by faith, and trusts in him, receives
that privilege, that peace. He endured much trouble to gain our peace; he
behoved to undergo misery to purchase our blessedness, and so it is his
own, and whoso receives him receives it also.
The news of such a peace might be seasonable in the time of war and
trouble, if we apprehended our need of it. It is not a peace from war and
trouble, but a peace in war and trouble. “My peace I leave with you,” and
“in the world ye shall have trouble,” John xiv. 27, and xvi. at the end.
What a blessed message is it, that there is a peace, and a perfect peace
attainable in the midst of wars, confusions, and calamities of the times,
public and personal; a perfect peace, a complete peace, even complete
without the accession of outward and worldly peace, that needs it not;
nay, appears most perfect and entire in itself, when it is stripped naked
of them all. Behold what a privilege the gospel offers unto you! ye need
not be made miserable, but(292) if you please. This is more than all the
world can afford you. There is no man can promise to himself immunity from
public or personal dangers, from many griefs and disappointments; but the
gospel bids you reckon up all your troubles and miseries that you can meet
with in the world; and yet in such a case, if ye hearken to wisdom, there
is a peace that will make you forget that trouble. “Her ways are ways of
pleasantness, and all her paths are peace,” Prov. iii. 17. I will
undertake to make thee blessed, says wisdom, the Father’s wisdom. When all
the world hath given thee over for miserable; when thou hast spent thy
substance on the physicians, and in vain, come to me, I can heal that
desperate disease by a word. “I create peace,” when natural causes have
given it over; I create it of nothing; I will keep you “in perfect peace.”
You have then here, three things of special concernment in these times;
and all times, a blessedness, a perfect peace attainable, the way of it,
and the fountain of it. The fountain of it, the preserver of it, is God
himself; the way to attain it, is “trusting in God, and staying on him.”
This sweetness of peace is in God the tree of life. Faith puts to its
hand, and plucks the fruit of the tree; hope and dependence on God is a
kind of tasting of that fruit and eating of it; and then followeth this
perfect peace, as the delightful relish and sweetness that the soul finds
in God, upon tasting how gracious he is. God himself is the life of our
souls, the fountain of living-waters, the life and light of men. Faith and
trusting in God, draws out of this fountain,—out of this deep well of
salvation; and staying on God, drinks of it, till the soul be refreshed
with peace and tranquillity, such as passeth natural understanding. Christ
Jesus is the tree of life, that grows in the garden of God; trusting in
him by faith implants a soul in him,—roots a soul in him, by virtue of
which union, it springs up and grows into a living branch; by staying and
depending upon him, we live by him, and hence springs this blessed and
sweet fruit of peace of soul and conscience, which grows upon the
confidence of the soul placed in God, as the stalk by which it is united
to the tree. Trusting and staying upon God is the soul’s casting its
anchor upon him in the midst of the waves and storms of sin, wrath, and
trouble. The poor beaten sinner casts an anchor within the vail, on that
sure ground of immutable promises in Jesus Christ; and then it rests and
quiets itself at that anchor, enjoys peace in the midst of the
storm,—there is a great calm, it is not moved, or not greatly moved, as if
it were a fair day. David flieth unto God as his refuge, anchors upon the
name of the Lord, Psal. lxii. 1, 2; and so he enjoys a perfect calm and
tranquillity. “I shall not be moved,” because he is united to the rock, he
is tied to the firm foundation, Jesus Christ, and no storm can dissolve
this union, not because of the strength of that rope of faith, it is but a
weak cord, if omnipotency did not compass it about also, and so we “are
kept by the power of God, through faith unto salvation.” The poor wearied
traveller, the pilgrim, sits down under the shadow of a rock, and this
peace is his rest under it. Faith lays him down, and peace is his rest and
sleep. Faith in Jesus Christ is a motion towards him, as the soul’s proper
place and centre, and therefore it is called a coming to him,—flying to
him as the city of refuge. It is the soul’s flight out of itself, and
misery and sin within, to apprehend mercy and grace, and happiness in
Christ. Now, hope is the conjunction or union of the soul with him,—the
soul then staying and resting on him, as in its proper place, and so it
enjoys perfect peace and rest in its place, so that if ye remove it
thence, then ye offer violence to it.
These two things are of greatest importance to you to know, what this
perfect peace is, and what is the way to attain it. The one is the
privilege and dignity, the other is the duty of a Christian, and these two
make him up what he is.
I would think that man perfectly blessed, who is at peace with two
things,—God and himself. If a man be at peace with creatures without him,
and be at peace with himself, but have war within his own mind, that man’s
peace is no peace, let be perfect peace. A man’s greatest enemy is within
his own house. And within indeed, when it is in his bosom and soul, when a
man’s conscience is against him, it is worse than a world beside.
_Conscientia mille testes_,(293) so I say, it is _mille hostes_. It is “a
thousand witnesses,” and “a thousand enemies.” It were better to endure
condemnation of any judge, of many judges in the world, than to sustain
the conviction of a man’s own conscience, when it accuseth, who shall
excuse? John viii. 9, Rom. ii. 15. “A merry spirit,” saith Solomon, “is a
continual feast,” Prov. xv. 15. And what must a heart be, which hath such
a gnawing worm within it, as an accusing conscience, to eat it out? This
is the worm of hell that dies not out, which makes hell hell indeed. This
indeed will be a painful consumption, “A broken spirit drieth up the
bones,” it will eat up the marrow of the spirit and body, Prov. xvii. 22.
What infirmity is there which a man cannot bear? Poverty, famine, war,
pestilence, sickness, name what you will, but a wounded spirit who can
bear? Prov. xviii. 14. And there is reason for it, for there is none to
bear it, a sound and whole spirit can sustain infirmities, but when that
is wounded, which should bear all the rest, what is behind to bear it? It
is a burden to itself. If a man have trouble and war in this world, yet
there is often escaping from it, a man may fly from his enemy, but when
thy enemy is within thee, whither shalt thou fly? Thou canst not go from
thyself, thou carriest about thee thy enemy, thy tormentor.
But suppose a man were at peace within himself, and cried peace, peace, to
himself, yet if he be not at peace with God, shall his peace be called
peace? Shall it not rather be named supine security? If a man be at
variance with himself, and his soul disquieted within, there is more fear
than danger if he be at peace with God. It is but a false alarm, that
shall end well, but if he have peace in his own bosom, and yet no
agreement with God, then destructions are certainly coming, his dream of
peace will have a terrible wakening. A man may sleep soundly, and his
enemies round about him, because he knoweth not of it, but he is in a
worse estate than he that is in great fear, and his enemies either none,
or far distant. The one hath present danger, and no fear, the other
present fear, and no danger, and which of these think ye best? Sudden
destruction awakes the one from sleep, Ezek. vii. 25. Their fear and
destruction come both at once, when it is now in vain to fear, because it
is past hope, Prov. i. 27. Therefore the Lord swears, that “there is no
peace to the wicked,” Isa. xlviii. 22. What! Do not they often cry peace
to themselves, and put the evil day far off? No men are so without bands
in life and death as they, they have made agreement with hell and death,
and their own consciences, yet for all that, “thus saith the Lord, there
is no peace to the wicked.” If God be against us, what is the matter who
be with us, for he can make a man’s friends his enemies, and he can make a
man’s enemies to be at peace with him: He makes peace and creates trouble,
Isa. xlv. 7. Men can but destroy the body, but he can destroy both body
and soul for ever. O what a potent and everlasting enemy is he! There is
no escaping from his all-seeing eye and powerful hand, Psal. cxxxix. 7, 8.
A man may fly from men, but whither shall he fly from His presence? To
heaven?—He is there. To hell?—He is there. The darkness of the night hath
been a covering under which many have escaped, and been saved in armies,
but darkness is no covering to him, it is all one with light. He is near
hand every one of us. The conscience is within us, but he is within the
conscience, and how much God is above the creature, so great and dreadful
a party is he above any enemy imaginable. Therefore I conclude, that that
man only hath perfect peace, who is at peace with God, and with his own
conscience. If a man be at peace with God, and not with himself, he wants
but a moment’s time of perfect peace, for, ere it be long, the God of it
will speak peace unto him. But if he be at peace with God and himself, I
know not what he wants of the perfect peace, of the “peace, peace,” for it
is a man’s mind that makes peace or war, it is not outward things, but in
the midst of peace he may be in trouble, and in the midst of trouble in
peace, according as he hath satisfaction and contentment in his own
breast, for what is all the grace of a Christian? It is godliness with
contentment, it is not godliness and riches, godliness and honour, or
pleasure, godliness and outward peace. No, no, contentment compenseth all
these, and hath in it eminently all the gain and advantage of these. A man
in honour, a rich man, having no contentment in it, is really as poor, as
ignominious, as the poor and despised man. If contentment then be without
these things, certainly they cannot be missed, for where contentment is
not with them, it only is missed, and they not considered. Contentment is
all the gain that men seek in riches, and honour, and pleasure, if a godly
man have that same without them, he then hath all the gain and advantage,
and wants nothing, but some trouble that ordinarily attends them. Outward
peace cannot add to inward peace, and so the want of it cannot diminish.
We must begin at the original, if we would know rightly this peace that
passeth knowledge. The fountain-head is peace with God, a stream of this
is peace of conscience, and peace with the creatures. There is a peace of
friendship, when persons were never enemies, and there is a peace of
reconciliation, when parties at variance are made one. Innocent Adam had
peace once with God as a friend,—angels continue so to this day, but now
there is no such peace between men and God, for all are become enemies to
God, and aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, that peace was broken by
rebellion against God his maker, and all the posterity are born with the
same enmity against God. On our part are hearts desperately wicked, whose
imagination is only evil continually. On God’s part is holy and spotless
justice, that is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, and therefore must
destroy it or the sinner. On our part are so many rebellions,—Adam’s
actual transgression, and all our own sins and breaches of the holy law,
as so many breaches of peace. On God’s part are so many curses answerable
to the breaches of the law: “cursed is every one that abideth not in every
thing,” &c. This curse is even the proclamation of men to be traitors, and
an intimation of the righteous judgment which will come upon them. Adam
was in a covenant of peace with God,—“Do, and thou shalt live, if not,
thou shalt die.” Adam brake this covenant, so the peace is dissolved, and
God is no more obliged to give life, but to execute the pain contained in
the covenant, and in sign and token of this, look how Adam fled from God’s
presence, to hide himself when he heard his voice, it was a poor shift,
for whither should he go from his presence? But, alas! seeking more
wisdom, he lost that he had, seeking divine wisdom, he lost human. Now,
there is no more making up this peace on such terms again, we have no
capacity to treat with God any more, but blessed be his Majesty, who hath
found out the way of agreement and reconciliation. O that ye were once
persuaded of your enmity against God! ye are not born friends, though ye
be born within the visible church. How dreadful a thing is it, to have the
Most High and terrible God against you, to do to you according to your
deservings! Ye all know this, we are enemies to God by nature, I pray you,
is it but a name? Is it not worthy deep consideration? But who considereth
this matter? If ye lose a friend, ye will be troubled, and the more
behoveful your friend was, the more troubled you will be. If a great and
potent nation proclaimed war against us, we cannot but be sensible of it,
but alas! who considereth the great breach that is between God and all
men, occasioned by the first man’s transgression and rebellion! It is one
of the degrees of health, to know the disease, and I may call it a degree
of peace, a kind of preparation to peace, to know the enmity, and not
generally to know it, but to ponder it till the heart be affected with it,
to call a council of all the faculties and affections of the soul to
consider the great imminent danger of man’s commonwealth. What is it, I
pray you, that is the greatest obstruction of men’s making peace with God,
that makes the breach irreparable, and the wound incurable? It is this,
certainly, no man apprehendeth it aright, we entertain good thoughts of
our friendship with God, or that it is easy to be reconciled. Who seeth
such a wide breach between God and man, that all the merits of angels and
men could not make it up? Who seeth the price of redemption so precious,
as it must cease for ever, for all that men and angels can do? Is not
every man offering God satisfaction, either his tears, or sorrow, or
amendment in time coming, or all of them? Do not men undertake to pacify
God with external ordinances, and think it may suffice for their sins?
Certainly ye are ignorant of the infinite separation between God and man,
who imagine a treaty with him yourselves, or that ever ye can come unto
speaking terms, and therefore is this war and enmity perpetual; therefore
there is no peace, when ye cry, Peace, peace! When ye have peace within
you, and say that ye have peace with God, yet certainly, the Lord thy God
is against thee, and will not spare thee, Deut. xxix. 19. Many of you
bless yourselves in your own hearts, when ye hear the curse and
threatening of the law, ye say, God forbid that all that were true. Well,
thus saith the Lord, All these curses that are written in this book shall
be upon thee, and the Lord shall separate thee unto evil, because ye take
not with your enmity, there can be no treaty, a mediator can have no
employment from you.
How shall the breach of peace be made up? Since the first covenant cannot
be made up again, where shall the remedy be found? God is just and
righteous, men are rebellious and sinful, can these meet, and the one not
be consumed? Will not God be a consuming fire, and men as stubble before
the Lord’s presence? Therefore, there must be a Mediator between them, a
peace-maker, to make of two one, to take up the difference. And this
Mediator must be like both, and yet neither wholly the one nor the other.
He must therefore be God and man, that he may be a fit day’s man betwixt
God and man, and this is our Lord Jesus Christ. In his divinity he comes
near to God, in his humanity he comes near to man, in his person he is
between both, and he is fit to make peace, and therefore he is “a Prince
of peace,” Isa. ix. 6. And that he may be a Prince of peace, he must be
both, “an everlasting Father” like God, and a young child like unto man.
God to prevail with God, and a man to engage for man, and therefore he is
called “our Peace,” Eph. ii. 14. Our Lord Jesus Christ enters into a
covenant with the Father, wherein he undertakes to bear our curse, and the
chastisement of our peace. He is content to be dealt with as the rebel,
“Upon me, upon me be the iniquity,” and so there comes an interruption, as
it were, of that blessed peace he had with the Father. He is content that
there should be a covering of wrath spread over the Father’s love, that he
should handle the Son as an enemy, and therefore it is, that sinners are
admitted as friends,—his obedience takes away our rebellion. The cloud of
the Lord’s displeasure pours down upon him, that it might be fair weather
to us, the armies of curses that were against us, encounter him, and he,
by being overcome, overcometh, by being slain by justice, Satan and sin,
overcometh all those, and killeth the enmity on the cross, making peace by
his blood, Col. ii. 14, 15 , Eph. ii. 15. And it is this sacrifice that
hath pacified heaven,—the sweet smell of it hath gone above, and made
peace in the high places.
Here, then, is the privilege of a believer,—to be at peace with God, to be
one with him, and this indeed is life eternal, to be united unto the
fountain of life, in whose favour is life and whose loving kindness is
better than life. Is not this a blessed estate? Whatever a man hath done
against God is all forgiven and forgotten, it shall never come into
remembrance. Are not angels blessed who are friends with God? Such is the
soul whose sins are pardoned through Christ,—its sins are as if they never
had been. The soul is not only escaped that terrible wrath of God, but
being at peace with God, all the goodness that is communicable to
creatures, it shall partake of, “that they may be one, as we are one, that
they may be perfect in one,” John xvii. This Christ prayed for, and this
was the end of his death,—to make of two one. So, then, the glory that
Christ is partaker of with the Father, we must be partakers of with him,
and all this by virtue of that peace with God by him. O if ye knew what
enmity with God is! how would it endear and make precious peace with him!
The one engageth all that is in God to be against a man; the other
engageth all that is in him to be for a man. And is not he then a great
one, whether he be a friend or an enemy, is he not the best friend and
worst enemy, who hath most power, yea, all power, to employ for whom he
will, and against whom he will? What a blessed change is it, to have God,
of a consuming fire, made a sun, with healing and consolation! that the
righteous, holy, and just God, before whom no flesh can stand, should
accept so rebellious sinners, and dwell among them! He had not only power
to destroy, but law against us also. What a perfect peace is it, then,
that the Judge becometh a merciful Father, and the law of ordinances is
cancelled, and that power employed to keep salvation to us, and us to
salvation! Ye who have made peace and atonement through Christ’s blood,
rejoice in the hope of the glory of God, there wants nothing to make you
completely blessed, but the clear and perfect sight and knowledge of your
estate before God.
Now, when this peace, which is made up in heaven, is intimated unto the
conscience, then all the tempests and clouds of it evanish, and this is
the peace of believing, which is the soul’s resting and quieting itself
upon the believing favour of God. There may be a great calm above,
good-will in God towards men, and yet great tempests in this lower region,
no peace on earth. There is a peace of conscience which is a disease of
conscience, a benumbedness of conscience, or a sleep of conscience, when
men walk in the imagination of their own hearts, and flatter themselves in
their own eyes, will not trouble themselves with the apprehension of the
wrath of God. When souls will not suffer their sin, or the curse to enter
in, this is that “no peace” which the Lord speaks often of, it is but a
dream, and when a man awaketh, alas! what a dreadful sight meets he with
first,—“sudden destruction!” Sin enters into the conscience, and the law,
the strength of sin, and so that peace endeth in an eternal disquietness.
But what is the reason, that notwithstanding of God’s justice and men’s
sins, so many are not afraid of him, so many pass the time without fear of
wrath and hell? Is it not because they have taken hold of his strength,
and made peace with him? No, indeed, but because they know not the power
of his anger, to fear him according to his wrath. Who will spend one hour
in the examination of his own ways, in searching out sins, in counting his
debt, till he find it past payment? No, men entertain the thoughts of sin,
and hell and wrath, as if it were coals in their bosom, they shake them
out, they like and love any diversion from them. Oh! ignorance maketh much
peace, I would say security, which is so much worse than fear, because it
is so far from the remedy, that it knoweth not the evil and danger. It is
not the rising of the Sun of righteousness, shining into the soul, that
hath cleared them, but their perpetual darkness that blindeth them. I say,
then, in the name of Jesus Christ, that ye never knew the peace of God,
who knew not war with God, ye know not love, who have not known anger, but
this is the soul’s true peace and tranquillity, when it is once awakened
to see its misery and danger—how many clouds overspread it, what tempests
blow; what waves of displeasure go over its head! But when that peace,
which is made in the high places, breaketh through the cloud with a voice,
“Son, be of good comfort, thy sins be forgiven thee!” when that voice of
the Spirit is uttered, presently at its command the wind and waves obey,
the soul is calmed, as the sea after a storm, it is not only untroubled,
but it is peaceable upon solid grounds, because of the word which speaks
peace in Christ. The peace of the most of you is such as ye were born and
educated withal. Is it not a created peace, a spoken peace,—the fruit of
the lips, and so no true peace? Ye had not your peace from the word, but
ye brought it to the word, ye have no peace after trouble, and so it is
not the Lord’s peace.
The Christian may have peace, in regard of his own salvation and eternal
things, and in regard of all things that befalleth in time; the first is,
when the conscience is sprinkled with the blood of Jesus Christ, and
getteth a good answer to all the challenges and accusations of conscience,
and of the law and justice, 1 Pet. iii. 21; when the Spirit of God shines
into the soul, with a new light to discover these things that are freely
given, 1 Cor. ii. 12. And this is the sealing of the Spirit after
believing, Eph. i. 13. When a soul hath put to its seal by believing God’s
word, and hath acknowledged God’s truth and faithfulness in his word, the
Spirit sealeth mutually the believer’s faith, both by more holiness and
the knowledge of it; and how great peace is this, when a soul can look
upon all its iniquities when they compass about a man, and outward trouble
sharpeneth and setteth on edge inward challenges, and yet the soul will
not fear,—it hath answers to them all in Christ’s blood, Psalm xlix. 5.
This is a greater word than all the world can say. Many men’s fearlessness
proceedeth from ignorance of sin, their iniquities were never set in order
before them; but if once they compassed them about, and wrath, like a
fiery wall, compass them about also, so that there were no escaping, O it
would be more terrible than all the armies of the world! Ye would account
little of a kingdom, ye would exchange it for such a word as David hath
upon good grounds.
Now, I say again, the soul that hath thus committed itself to him as a
faithful keeper, may have peace in all estates and conditions; and this
peace floweth from that other peace. There is a peace which guards the
heart and mind, Phil. iv. 6, 7, opposed to carefulness and anxiety; and
this Paul is exemplary for, “I have learned in every estate, therewith to
be content, to want and abound,” &c. ver. 11. The soul of a believer may
be in an equal even tenor and disposition in all conditions; it may
possess itself in patience. Impatience and anxiety make a man not his own
man; he is not himself, he enjoys not himself; he is a burden to himself,
and is his own tormentor; but if souls were stayed upon God, certainly
they would possess themselves, dwell securely within their own breasts. We
may find that the most part of men are exposed to all the floods and waves
of the times. They move inwardly, as things are troubled outwardly; every
thing addeth moment to their grief or joy; any dispensation casteth the
balance, and either weighs them down with discouragement, or lifteth them
up with vanity and lightness of mind; but the believer’s privilege is to
be unmoved in the midst of all the tossings and confusions of the times,
Psal. cxxviii. 1, 2. Ye would be as mount Zion if ye trusted in God; no
dispensation would enter into the soul to cast the balance upon you; ye
might stand upon your rock Jesus Christ, and look about the estates,
persons, affairs, and minds of men, as a troubled sea, fleeting, tossed up
and down, and ye stand and not be moved, or not greatly moved, Psal. lxii.
2. And this is to be wise indeed. If I would describe a wise man, I would
say, he “is one man,” beside him no man is one with himself, but various,
inconstant, changeable. He is unwise who is unlike himself, who changeth
persons according to dispensations: wisdom is the stability of thy times,
and faith is wisdom. It establisheth as mount Zion, so as a man cometh out
still one,—in prosperity not exalted, in adversity not cast down, in every
estate content; and this is the man who is blessed indeed. This were
wisdom,—to will the same thing, and nill(294) the same thing. _Semper idem
velle, atque idem nolle._(295) I need not, says Seneca, add that
exception, that it be right which you desire, for no one thing can
universally and always please, if it be not good and right; so I say, he
were both wise and happy, who had but one grief and one joy. Should not a
believer’s mind be calm and serene, seeing the true light hath shined; it
should be as the upper world, where no blasts, no storms or clouds are to
eclipse the sun, or cloud it. While our peace and tranquillity is borrowed
from outward things, certainly it must change; but a believer’s peace and
tranquillity of mind, having its rise from above, from the unchangeable
word of the Lord, it needeth not to change according to the vicissitudes
of providence. He needeth not to care beforehand, because there is one who
careth for him; and what needeth both to care? He needeth not be
disquieted or troubled after, because it shall turn about to his good; all
things shall do so, Rom. viii. 28. He needeth not be anxious about future
events, because he hath all his burden cast upon another by prayer and
supplication. What needeth he then take a needless burden? Prayer will do
that which care pretends and cannot do, and that without trouble. He
needeth not be troubled when things are present, for he cannot by his
thought either add or diminish, take away or prevent. There is one good
and necessary thing that his heart is upon, and that cannot be taken from
him; and therefore all things else are indifferent, and of small
concernment to him.
Now what wanteth such a man of perfect peace, who is reconciled to God,
and at peace within himself? When peace guardeth the heart and mind
within, compasseth it as a castle or garrison, to hold out all the vain
alarms of external things, may not all the world be troubled about him?
What though the floods lift up their voice, if they come not into the
soul? If he be one and the same in peace and trouble, prosperity and
adversity, do not lament him in the one more than the other. It is the
mind that maketh your condition good or bad; but yet, I say, the believer
hath likewise peace with all the creatures, which the world hath not, and
even in this he is a privileged man. He is in league with the stones of
the field, and in peace in his tabernacle, Job v. 23. All things are his,
because he is Christ’s, and all are Christ’s, who is the possessor of
heaven and earth, at least the righteous heir of both, 1 Cor iii. 21. The
unbeliever hath no right to the creature; though there be a cessation for
a time between them and him, yet that is no peace, for they will at length
be armed against him. They are witnesses already against him, and groan to
God for the corruption that man’s sin hath subjected them unto. His table
is, it may be, full, yet it is a snare unto him; he getteth ease and
quietness outwardly: nay, but it slayeth the fool and destroyeth him. But
the godly man is at peace, through Christ’s blood, with all crosses and
comforts; the sting and enmity of all evils is taken away by Christ.
Poverty is made a friend, because Christ was poor; hunger and thirst is
become a friend, because Christ was hungry and thirsty; reproach and
contempt is at peace with him, because Christ was despised; afflictions
and sorrows are reconciled to him, because Christ was a man of sorrows,
and acquainted with griefs; in a word, death itself is become a friend,
since Christ subdued it by lasting of it. I may say, the worst things to a
natural man are become best friends to the believer; the grave keepeth his
body and dust in hope. Death is a better friend than life, for it
ministers an entry into glory: it is the door of eternal life: it taketh
down the tabernacle of mortality, that we may be clothed upon with
immortality. In sum, whatever it be, Christ hath stamped a new quality on
it; it cometh through his hand, and so, if it be not good in itself, yet
it is good in the use, and in his appointment, Rom. viii. 21. If it be not
good, yet it worketh together for our good; it contributeth to our good,
because it is in his skilful hand, who can bring good out of evil, peace
out of trouble. O that ye were persuaded to be Christians indeed, to love
his law, and trust in him. Great peace have all such. This were more to
you than peace in the world; your peace should be as a river, for
abundance and perpetuity; no drought could dry it up; it should run in
time as a large river, and when time is done, it would embosom itself in
eternity, in that ocean of eternal peace and joy which the saints are
drowned in above; other men’s peace is but like a brook that dries up in
summer.
Sermon XIII.
Isaiah xxvi. 3.—“Thou shall keep him in perfect peace, whose mind
is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.”
Christ hath left us his peace, as the great and comprehensive legacy, “My
peace I leave you,” John xiv. 27. And this was not peace in the world that
he enjoyed; you know what his life was, a continual warfare; but a peace
above the world, that passeth understanding. “In the world you shall have
trouble, but in me you shall have peace,” saith Christ,—a peace that shall
make trouble no trouble. You must lay your accounts to have such a life as
the forerunner had; but withal, as he hath left us his trouble, so hath he
left us his peace; the trouble will have an end, but the joy can no man
take from you. We have this sure promise to rest upon, in behalf of the
church, peace shall be in Israel; a peace that the world knoweth not, and
so cannot assault it, or take it away. O that ye would hearken to this
word, that ye would trust in the Lord, and stay upon your God, then should
your peace be as a river, Isa. xlviii. 18. There is nothing more desired
in time of trouble than peace; but all peace is not better than war: some
necessary war is better than evil-grounded peace. The kingdoms have been
long in pain, labouring to bring forth a safe and well-grounded peace.
But, alas! we have been in pain and brought forth wind; when we looked for
peace, no good came, and for healing, behold trouble. But how shall we
arrive at our desired haven? Certainly, if peace be well-grounded, it must
have truth for its foundation, and righteousness for its companion; truth
must spring out of the earth, and righteousness look down from heaven.
This were the compendious way for public peace, if every man would make
his own peace with God. There are controversies with God, between king,
nobles, and people; and therefore God fomenteth the wars in the kingdoms.
If you would have these ended, make peace with God in Christ, by flying in
unto him, and resting on him; more trusting in God would despatch our
wars; trusting in the arm of flesh continueth them. Always whatever be,
peace or war, here is the business that more concerns you,—your eternal
peace and safety; and, if ye were more careful of this, to save your own
souls, you would help the public more. If you could be once persuaded to
be Christians indeed, we needed not press many duties in reference to the
public; and until you be once persuaded to save yourselves, by flying from
the wrath to come, it is in vain to speak of public duties to you. We do
therefore declare unto you the way of obtaining perfect peace,—peace as a
river; if you will quit all self-confidences, flee from yourselves as your
greatest enemies, and trust your souls unto the promise in Jesus Christ,
and lean all your weight on him, we assure you, your peace shall run
abundantly and perpetually. Whoever trusteth in creatures, in uncertain
riches, in worldly peace, in whatsoever thing besides the only living and
glorious Lord, we persuade him, that his peace shall fail as a brook. All
things in this world shall deal deceitfully with you, as a brook which is
blackish, by reason of ice; what time it waxeth warm, it shall evanish.
You that looked and waited for water in it shall be confounded, because
you hoped, and are ashamed because of your expectation. Job vi. 15, &c.
The summer shall dry up your peace, and what will ye do? But if you pour
out your souls on him, and trust in the fountain of living waters, you
shall not be ashamed, for your peace shall be as a river. The elephant is
said to trust that he can drink out a river; but he is deceived, for he
may drink again,—it runs, and shall run for ever. If any thing would essay
to take your peace from you, it is a vain attempt, for it runs like a
river; it may be shallower and deeper, but it cannot run dry, because of
the living fountain it proceedeth from. There is no other thing can be
made sure; all besides this is uncertain, and this only is worthy to be
made sure; nothing besides this can give you satisfaction.
Are your hearts asking within you, how shall this peace be attained? If
you desire to know it, consider these words, “Whose heart is stayed on
thee, because he trusteth in thee.” It concerneth you much to know well,
what this is that your eternal peace depends on.
Trusting in God, is the leaning of the soul’s weight on God. The soul hath
a burden above it, heavy and unsupportable, and this the truster casteth
upon God; and so he is a loadened and weary man, whom Christ exhorteth to
come to him, and he shall find ease for his soul, Matt. xi. 28; Prov. iii.
5. Leaning to ourselves, and trusting in God are opposed. Psal. xxii. 10,
trusting is exponed(296) to be “a casting upon God.” Psal. xxv. 1, it is
called, “a lifting up the soul to him.” This one thing is included in the
bosom of trusting and believing, that a man hath many burdens too heavy
for him, which would sink him down: the believer is such a one as
Jehoshaphat, 2 Chron. xx. 12, “O Lord, we have no might against this great
company, neither know we what to do.” O Lord, I have an army of iniquities
against me, a great company compasseth me about; an army of curses as
numerous as mine iniquities; both are innumerable as the sand of the sea;
I have no might against them, neither know I what to do: nay, the Lord is
against me, his wrath is like the roaring of a lion; what can I do against
him? The first beginning of trusting in God is distrusting ourselves; and
until a man see his duty and burden beyond his strength, his burden
greater than he can bear, you will never persuade him to come to Jesus
Christ, and lean on him. We will not preach any such doctrine, as to
discharge any to come to Christ, till they be wearied and loaden; for,
when a man conceiveth that he wanteth that weariedness, whither shall he
go to find it? Is there any fountain, but one, Jesus Christ, both of grace
and preparations to it, if any such be? But this we preach unto you, that
until you be wearied and loaden, you will not cast your burden on Jesus.
We need not discharge you to come till you be such, for certainly you will
not come. This is the desperate wickedness of our hearts, that we will
never forsake ourselves till we can do no better. Until men be as David,
“I looked on the right hand, and there was none would know me; refuge
failed me,” certainly they will not cry to God. Men will look round about
them, before they will look up above them; they will cast the burden of
their souls upon any thing, upon their own sorrow and contrition, upon
their resolution to amend, upon external duties and privileges, upon civil
honesty, until all these succumb under the weight of their salvation; and
then, it may be, they will ask after him who bare our griefs. I would not
willingly speak of preparations to faith, because it putteth men upon
searching for something in themselves, upon fashioning their own hearts,
and trimming them to come to Christ; whereas there is nothing can be
acceptable to him but what cometh from him. But I think all that men
intend, who speak of preparations, may be gained this way by holding out
unto men the impossibility of coming to Christ, till they be emptied of
themselves. Not that the one is a thing going before, to be done by us,
but because they are all one; it is one motion of the soul to come out of
itself, and into Jesus; it is one thing really to distrust ourselves, and
to trust in him; and by this means, when the true nature of faith itself
is holden out, men might examine themselves rather by it, whether they
have it, than by the preparations of it.
But to come to our purpose, when the soul is pressed under burdens of sin
and misery, of duty and insufficiency, and inability to do it, then the
gospel discovereth unto the wearied soul a place of reposing and rest. The
Lord hath established Christ Jesus, an “ensign to the people;” those who
seek unto him shall find his rest glorious, Isa. xi. 10. When there is
discovered in us all emptiness and inability, yea impossibility to save
ourselves, or perform any duty, then are we led to Jesus Christ, as one
who is come with grace and truth, in whom it hath pleased the Father all
fulness should dwell; and the turning of the soul over upon him is
trusting in him. You would not mistake this; trusting in the Lord in its
first and most native acting, is not always persuasion of his good-will
and love in particular. No, the soul meets first with a general promise,
holding out his good-will in general; and the soul closeth with this, as a
thing both good and true,—as faithful in itself, and worthy of all
acceptation. This is it that we must first meet with,—an all-sufficient
Saviour, able to save to the utmost all that come to him; and the soul’s
accepting of that blessed Saviour on the terms he is offered, this is
believing in him, and trusting to him, as a complete Saviour.
Now when the soul hath disburdened itself upon God, and set its seal to
the truth of the promises in the gospel for salvation; if the light of the
Spirit shine to discover this unto it, that it hath laid hold on his
strength who is able to save to the utmost, then it becometh persuaded of
his love in particular; and this is rather the sealing after believing,
than believing itself.
When once men have hazarded their souls upon his word, and trusted in him,
then they may trust in him for all particulars: he that hath given his Son
for us, will he not with him give all things? This, therefore, is the
continual recourse of a believer,—from discovered emptiness and
insufficiency in himself, to travel unto the fulness and strength of Jesus
Christ, that his strength may be perfected in weakness. Yea, when all
things seem contrary, and his dispensation writes bitter things against
us, yet ought we to trust in him, Job xiii. 15. There is a peace of
wilfulness and violence in faith, that will look always towards his word,
whatever be threatened to the contrary.
Now, from this faith in God, floweth a constant dependence and stayedness
on him, they are stayed on him, because they trusted in him; for faith
discovereth in God such grounds, that it may lean its weight upon him
without wavering and changing. It considereth his power, his good will,
and his faithfulness; he is able to perform, he is willing to do it, and
he is faithful, because he hath promised. His greatness and power is a
high rock, higher than we, that faith leadeth us unto. His love and
good-will in Jesus Christ, maketh an open entry and ready access to that
rock; and faithfulness engageth both to give a shelter and refuge to the
poor sinner. Would a soul be any more tossed, would there be any place for
wavering and doubting, if souls considered his excellent loving-kindness,
and great goodness laid up and treasured with him for those that trust in
him? Psalm xxxvi. 7. Who would not put their trust under the shadow of his
wings, and think themselves safe? Again, if his eternal power were
pondered, how he is able to effectuate whatever he pleaseth; what
everlasting arms he hath that by a word supports the frame of the world;
what he can do, if he stretch out his arm; and then, if these two
immutable things, (Heb. vi. 18,) his promise and his oath, were looked
upon;—how he hath engaged himself in his truth, and sworn in his holiness;
would not a soul lie safely between these three? What strong consolation
would such a threefold consideration yield? Would any wind or tempest blow
within these walls mounted up to heaven?
Stayedness on God is nothing else but the fixedness of believing and
trusting, Ps. cxii. 7, 8, “his heart is fixed, trusting in God; his heart
is established.” It is even the mature and ripe age of faith. Faith, while
it is yet in infancy, in its tender years, neither can endure storms, nor
can it confirm us in them; but when it hath sprung up and grown in that
root of Jesse, when it is rooted and established in Jesus Christ, then it
establisheth the soul. Faith abiding in him and taking root, groweth,
confirmed as a tree that cannot easily be moved; and if you establish
faith, you shall be established.
There are two particulars which I conceive the trusting soul is stayed on.
First, in the meditation of God. Secondly, in expectation from him of all
good things. When I say the meditation of God, I take in both
contemplation and affection. The most part of men have but few thoughts of
God at all; even those who trust in him do not consider sufficiently what
a one he is in whom they believe. If faith were vigorous and lively, it
would put men to often thinking on him, seeking to know him in his
glorious names; the mind would be stayed upon this glorious object, as the
most mysterious and wonderful one. How strong are men’s minds with their
vanities? When they awake, they are not still with God. The meditation of
him is a burden to them; any other thing getteth more time and thoughts.
But meditation addeth affection to contemplation; men may think long upon
the heavens and their course, but their affections are not ravished with
them. But thus is the soul stayed on God;—when the soul’s desires are
towards the remembrance of his name, then affection stayeth the mind upon
what it pitcheth on; and certainly the mind giveth but passing looks,
constrained thoughts, where the heart is not. Here is David’s meditation,
Ps. i. “My delight is in the law of the Lord.” The soul of a believer
should be constant and fixed in the consideration of God, till he be
wholly engaged to admiration and wondering. “O Lord, how excellent is thy
name,” Psal. viii. 1: “and who is like unto thee?” You all say that you
believe in God, and know his power,—you know he is good, he is merciful,
just, long-suffering, faithful, &c. But what is all this knowledge but
ignorance, and your light darkness, when it doth not press you to put your
trust in his name? You know; nay, but you consider not what you know. This
is trusting, when the mind is stayed on what it knoweth, when all the
scattered thoughts and affections are called home, and united in one, to
be exercised about this comprehensive object, “the Lord our God.” It is
not want of knowledge destroyeth you, but want of consideration of what
you know, and this is brutishness. Men’s hearts do not carry the seal and
stamp of their knowledge, because thoughts of God and his word are but as
passengers that go through a land, as lightning going through the mind,
but warms it not; and so their practice carrieth no impression of it
either. How base is it for those who have God for their God, to be so
ignorant of him! Would not any man willingly travel about his own
possessions? Have you such a large portion, believers, and should ye be
taken up with other vanities? Should your hearts and minds be stayed on
them, more than the living God? There is a great vanity and levity in
men’s minds; “The Lord knoweth the thoughts of man that they are vanity.”
There is an unsettledness of spirit,—we cannot pitch on that upon which we
may be stayed; and so all the spirits of men are in a continual motion
from one thing to another, for nothing giveth complete satisfaction, and
therefore it must go and try one after another, to see if it can find in
it what it found not in the former. And such is the inconstancy of the
spirit, that it licketh up its vomit; and what thing it refused, it eateth
it up as its meat. The time is spent in choosing and refusing, rejecting
one thing and taking another, and again returning to what you have
rejected. Thus are men tossed up and down, and unstable in all their ways,
as a ship without ballasting. Now, faith and trusting in God is the
ballast and weight of this inconstant ship: it is the anchor to stay it
from being driven to and fro. If once men would pitch upon this one Lord,
who hath in himself eminently all the scattered perfections of creatures,
and infinitely more,—if you would consider him, and meditate on him, till
your souls loved him, would you not be ravished with him? Would you not
build your house beside him, and dwell in the meditation of his name? This
would fix and establish you in duties—“when I awake, I am still with
thee.” A little searching and experience discovereth emptiness in all
beside; and therefore is it, that the soul removeth sooner from such a
particular creature than it expected. But here is One that is “past
finding out.” The more I search and find, I find him the more above what I
can search and find. The creatures are but painted and fair in men’s
apprehension, and at a distance; but the near enjoyment of them
discovereth the delusion, and sendeth a man away ashamed, because he
trusted. But the Lord God is, and there is no other. He is not as waters
that fail, no liar,—he is an everlasting fountain,—the more you dig and
draw, it runs the faster; he will never send any away ashamed that trust
in him, because they shall find more than they expected.
Therefore the soul that is stayed on meditation of God, and knoweth him
certainly, will be fixed in expectation from him. Our expectation from the
creatures changeth, because it is often frustrated. Disappointment meets
it. It is above what is in the creature, and so it must meet with
disappointment; but as he is above our meditation, so is he far above our
expectation; and if a man’s experience answer his hope, he hath no reason
to change his hope. The Lord hath often done things we looked not for, but
we never looked for any thing, according to the grounds of the word, but
it was done, or a better than it. He doth not always answer our
limitations; but if he give gold, when we sought silver, are we not
answered? Are we disappointed? There are three things that use most to
disquiet and toss men’s spirits,—sin and wrath, future events, and present
calamities. Faith establisheth the soul on God in all these, and suffereth
it not to be driven to and fro with these winds; it finds a harbour and
refuge in God from all these. If he be pursued by the avenger of blood,
God’s wrath and justice, here is an open city of refuge that he may run to
and be safe. If iniquities compass me about, yet I will not fear, but
oppose unto that great company the many sufferings and obedience of Jesus
Christ. My conscience challengeth and writeth bitter things against me,
yet I have an answer in that blood that speaketh better things than
Abel’s. If sins prevail, he will purge them away. His mercy is above all
my sin, and his virtue and power is above my sin. He hath promised, and
will he not do it? Oft times men’s souls are perplexed and tossed about
future events, careful for to morrow. This is a great torment of spirit,
it cutteth and divideth it,—putteth a man to his own providence, as if
there were no God, but he that trusteth in God is established in this,
“His heart is fixed trusting in the Lord.” He hath committed his soul to
him, and why may he not his body? He hath nothing but his promise for
eternal salvation, and may not that same suffice for temporal? He careth
for me, saith faith, why then should we both care about one thing? He hath
given his Son for me, the most precious gift which the world cannot match,
and will he not with him give all these lesser things? And thus the
believer encloseth himself within the Father’s love and providence, and is
fixed, not fearing evil tidings, for what tidings can be evil, seeing our
Father hath the sovereign disposing of all affairs, and knoweth what is
best for us? Present dispensations often shake men, and drive them to and
fro, their feet slip, and are not established, “Thou didst hide thy face,
and I was troubled.” But if you trusted in God, and considered what is in
him to oppose to all difficulties and calamities, you would say, “I shall
not be moved, though the floods lift up their voice.” If you believed his
love, would not this sweeten all his dealing? He maketh all work together
for good. Sovereignty, righteousness, and mercy, are sure and firm ground
to stand upon in all storms. You may cast anchor at any of those, and lie
secure. “It is the Lord, let him do what he pleaseth.” This was enough to
quiet the saints in old times. Should he give account of his matters to
us? Shall the clay say to the potter, why is it thus? His absolute right
by creation maketh him, beyond all exception, do what he pleases, but
beside this, he is pleased and condescendeth to reason with us, and give
account of his matters, to testify to our conscience that he is righteous
in all his ways. It was the ground of Jeremiah’s settling, Lam iii. “It is
of the Lord’s mercy that we are not consumed.” It should have allayed and
stayed Job. Know this, thou art punished less than thy iniquities deserve.
Who will set a time to plead with him? Shall any be found righteous before
him? And this might stop all men’s mouths, and put them in the dust to
keep silence, seeing he hath law to do infinitely more than he doth, why
should not we rather proclaim his clemency, than argue him so very hard?
If to both those you shall add the consideration of his mercy, that all
his paths are mercy and truth unto you, even when he correcteth most
severely, so that you may bless him as well for rods as for meat and
clothing, and count yourself blessed when you are taught by the rod and
the word, the one speaking to the other, and the other sealing its
instruction,—if you believed that it were a fruit of his love, that “he
chasteneth every son whom he loveth,” because he will not let you depart
from him, will not let you settle upon a present world, and forget your
country above, therefore he compasseth you about with hedges of thorns to
keep in your way, and therefore he maketh this world bitter and
unpleasant, that you may have no continuing city,—if all this were
believed would not the soul triumph with Paul, “What can separate me from
the love of God?”—not past things, for all my sins are blotted out, and
shall be remembered no more, not present things, for they work to good,
and are a fruit of his love, not things to come, for that is to come which
shall more declare his love than what is past, would not a soul sleep
securely within the compass of this power, this love, and faithfulness of
God, without fear of dashing or sinking?
Now, judge whether a perfect peace may not flow from all this. May it not
be a perfect calm, when the mountains that environ go up to heaven? Not
only doth the soul trust in God, but God keepeth the trusting soul in
peace. He is the Creator of peace, and the preserver of it,—“I create
peace, I keep him in peace.” The same power and virtue is required to the
preserving of a thing, and the first being of it. Our faith and hope in
God is too weak an anchor to abide all storms. Our cords would break, our
hands faint and weary, but he is the everlasting God, who faileth not, and
wearieth not. He holdeth an invisible gripe of us. We are kept by his
power unto salvation, and we are kept by his power in peace. “Thy right
hand holdeth me,” saith David, and this helpeth me to pursue thee. What
maketh believers inexpugnable, impregnable? Is it their strength? No
indeed. But “salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks.” Almighty
power is a strong wall, though invisible,—this power worketh in us and
about us.
Now, believers, pity the world about you, that knoweth not this peace.
When they lie secure, and cry Peace, peace, alas! they are a city open
without walls as the plain field,—there is no keeper there, nothing to
hold off destruction. Entertain your own peace, do not grieve the Spirit
who hath sealed it. If you return to folly after he hath spoken peace to
you, I persuade you, you shall not maintain this peace. There may be peace
with God, but no peace in thy conscience, as long as the whoredoms of thy
heart are to the fore, thou mayest be secure, but security is worse than
fear. Know this, that continuing in a course of sin, entertaining any
known sin, shall trouble thy peace. If God hath spoken peace to thee, thou
shalt not lodge that enemy in peace. “Great peace have they that love thy
law.” Obedience and delight in it doth not make peace, but it is the way
of peace, and much meditation on the blessed word of God is the most
excellent mean to preserve this peace, if it be secured with much
correspondence with heaven by prayer, Phil. iv. 6, 7. If you would
disburden your hearts daily at the throne of grace, peace should guard and
keep your heart, and then your peace would be perfect indeed. But because
your faith is here imperfect, your requests few and infervent, your
follies and iniquities many, therefore is this promised perfection a
stranger to the most part of Christians. Always what we want here, we must
expect to have made up shortly. Heaven is a land of peace, and all things
are there in full age, here all are in minority, it is but yet night, but
when the day shall break up, and the shadows fly away, and the Prince of
peace shall appear and be revealed, he shall bring peace and grace both
with him, and both perfect. To Him be praise and glory.
Sermon XIV.
Isaiah lix. 20.—“And the Redeemer shall come unto Zion, and unto
them that turn,” &c.
Doctrines, as things, have their seasons and times. Every thing is
beautiful in its season. So there is no word of truth, but it hath a
season and time in which it is beautiful. And indeed that is a great part
of wisdom, to bring forth everything in its season, to discern when and
where, and to whom it is pertinent and edifying, to speak such and such
truths. But there is one doctrine that is never out of season, and
therefore it may be preached in season and out of season, as the apostle
commandeth. Indeed to many hearts it is always out of season, and
especially in times of trouble and anguish, when it should be most
seasonable, when the opportunity may commend the beauty of it, but in
itself, and to as many as have ever found the power of it on their hearts,
it is always the most seasonable and pertinent doctrine,—I mean the very
subject-matter of this text, the news of a Redeemer to captive sinners. It
is in itself such glad tidings, and shines with so much beauty and
splendour to troubled sinners, that it casteth abroad a lustre and beauty
on the feet of the messengers that carry it, Isa. xl. It is a cordial in
affliction, whether outward or inward, and it is withal the only true
comfort of prosperity. It allayeth the bitterness of things that cross us,
and filleth up the emptiness of things that pretend to please us, it
giveth sweetness to the one, and true sweetness to the other. Reason
then—that should always be welcome to us, which we stand always in need
of, that it should always be new and fresh in our affection, which is
always recent and new in its operation and efficacy toward us. Other news
how great or good soever, suppose they were able to fill the hearts of all
in a nation with joy, yet they grow stale, they lose their virtue within
few days. What footsteps or remainder is of all the triumphs and trophies
of nations, of all their solemnities for their victorious success at home
and abroad? These great news, which once were the subject of the discourse
of and delight of many thousands,—who report them now with delight? So
those things that may cause joy and triumph to some at this time, as they
cannot choose but make more hearts sad than glad; so they will quickly
lose even that efficacy they have, and become tasteless as the white of an
egg, to them that are most ravished with them. But, my beloved, here is
glad tidings of a Redeemer come to Zion to save sinners, which have no
occasion of sadness in them to any, but to those who are not so happy as
to consider them, or believe them, and they are this day, after many
hundred, I may say thousand, years since they were first published, as
green and recent, as refreshing to wearied souls, as ever they were. Yea,
such is the nature of them, and such an everlasting spring of consolation
is in them, that the oftener they be told, and the more they be
considered, the sweeter they are. They grow green in old age, and bring
forth fruit, and are fat and flourishing; and indeed it is the never-dying
virtue and everlasting sap of this word of life, that maketh the righteous
so, Psal. xcii. 14. This word of a Redeemer at the first publishing, and
for a long time, was but like waters issuing out from under the threshold,
and then they came to the ankles, when it was published to a whole nation;
but still the longer it swells the higher above knees, and loins, till it
be a great inexhausted river, and thus it runs at this day through the
world, and hath a healing virtue and a quickening virtue, Ezek. xlvii.,
and a sanctifying virtue, ver. 9-12. Now this is our errand to you, to
invite you to come to these waters. If ye thirst, come to be quenched; if
ye thirst not, ye have so much the more need to come, because your thirst
after things that will not profit you, will destroy you, and your
unsensibleness of your need of this is your greatest misery.
That the words may be more lively unto us, we may call to mind, the
greatest and deepest design that hath been carried on in the world, by the
Maker and Ruler of the world, is the marriage of Christ his Son with the
Church. This was primarily intended, when he made the world, as a palace
to celebrate it in; this was especially aimed at, when he joined Adam and
Eve, in the beginning of time, together in paradise, that the second Adam
should be more solemnly joined to the church, at the end of time, in the
paradise of heaven; and this the apostle draws out as the sampler and
arch-copy of all marriages and conjunctions in the creatures, Eph. v. Now
this being the great design of God, of which all other things done in time
are but the footsteps and low representations, the great question is, how
this shall be brought about, because of the great distance and huge
disproportion of the parties, He “being the brightness of the Father’s
glory,” and we being wholly eclipsed and darkened since our fall;—He
higher than the heaven of heavens, and we fallen as low as hell into a
dungeon of darkness and misery, led away by sin and Satan, lying in that
abominable posture represented in Ezek. xvi.; not only unsuitable to
engage his love, but fit to procure even the loathing of all that pass by.
Now it being thus, the words do furnish us with the noble resolution of
the Son, about the taking away of the distance, and the royal offer of the
Father, to make the match hold the better, both flowing from infinite
love, in the most free and absolute manner that can be imagined. The Son’s
resolution, which is withal the Father’s promise, is to come into the
world first to redeem his spouse, and so to marry her; “and the Redeemer
shall come unto Zion,” &c. The Father’s offer, that he might not be
wanting to help it forward, is to dispone,(297) by an irrevocable
covenant, having the force of an absolute donation, his word and Spirit to
Christ and his seed, to the church, even to the end of the world, (ver.
21). “As for me, this is my covenant.” The Son hath done his part, and is
to express his infinite love, infinite condescendency, and stooping below
his majesty. Now, as for me, I will show my good-will to it in my infinite
bounty and riches of grace to the church; he hath given himself for her,—I
will give my Spirit; and thus it cannot but hold.
We shall speak a word then of these three: first, what estate and
condition Christ findeth his church in, out of which she must be taken to
be his spouse; then, what way and course is laid down by the council of
heaven, to fill up the infinite distance between Christ and sinners; and,
to close all, we shall show you the suitableness of these promises, and
the wonderful fitness of this doctrine to the church, at this time Isaiah
preached it, and at all times.
The first is supposed in the words. Redemption supposeth captivity or
slavery; redemption of persons importeth captivity and slavery of these
persons, and redemption of other things that belong to persons, importeth
sale or alienation of our right to them. Of both, personal redemption is
the greatest and most difficult; yet both we have need of, for our estate
and fortune, so to speak, is lost, “for all men have sinned and come short
of the glory of God,” Rom. iii. 23. That inheritance of eternal life, we
have mortgaged it, and given away our right to it. The favour of God and
the blessedness of communion with him, was Adam’s birthright, and by a
free donation was made his proper inheritance and possession, to be
transmitted to his posterity. But O! for how small a thing did he give it
away,—for a little taste of an apple he sold his estate; and both he and
we may lament over it, as the king that was constrained to render himself
and all his army for want of water. When he tasted it, “For how small a
thing,” saith he, “have I lost my kingdom!” Then our persons are in a
state of bondage, in captivity and slavery; captives under the wrath of
God, and slaves or servants to sin. There needed no greater difference and
deformity between Christ and us, than this,—our servitude and bondage to
sin, which truly is the basest and most abominable vassalage in the world.
The abasement of the highest prince, to the vilest servitude under the
basest creatures in his dominion, is but a shadow of that loathsome and
ugly posture of our souls. This servitude doth in a manner unman us, and
transform us into beasts. Certainly it is that which, in the holy eyes of
God, is more loathsome than any thing beside. He seeth not that deformity
in poverty, nakedness, sickness, slavery. Let a man be as miserable as Job
on his dunghill, it is not so much that, as the unseen and undiscerned
posture and habit of their souls, that he abominateth. Now what a match is
this, for the highest and holiest prince, the Son of the greatest King,
and heir of all things! But if you add to this slavery, that captivity
under the curse and wrath of God,—that all men are shut up, and enclosed
in the prison of God’s faithful and irrevocable sentence of condemnation,
and given over by the righteous judgment of God, to be kept by Satan in
everlasting chains of darkness,—he keepeth men now, by the invisible cords
of their own sins, but these chains of darkness are reserved for both him
and men,—now indeed, this superaddeth a great difficulty to the business.
The other may be a difficulty to his mind and affection, because there is
nothing to procure love, but all that may enforce hatred and loathing. But
suppose his infinite love could come over this stay, could leap over this
mountain by the freedom of it, yet there is a greater impediment in the
way, that may seem difficult to his power, and it is the justice and power
of God, enclosing sinners and shutting them up for eternal wrath, till a
due satisfaction be had from or for them. You see then, how infinite the
distance is betwixt him and us, and how great the difficulty is to bring
about this intended union. Angels were sent with flaming swords to
encompass the tree of life and keep it from man, but man is environed by
the curse of the Almighty God. The justice, the faithfulness, and the
power of God do guard or set a watch about him, that there is no access to
him to save him, but by undergoing the greatest danger, and undertaking
the greatest party that ever was dealt withal, and the strictest and
severest too.
This being the case then, the distance being so vast, and the difficulty
so great, the distance being twofold, between his nature and ours, and
between our quality and his: an infinite distance between his divine
nature and our flesh, and besides an extreme contrariety between the
holiness of his nature, and the sinfulness of ours,—[there is here] such a
repugnancy, as there is no reconciliation of them. You know what Paul
speaketh of the marriage of Christians with idolaters: how much more will
it hold here? What communion can be between light and darkness, between
God and Belial? Is it possible these can be reduced to amity, and brought
to so near an union? Yet for all this, it is possible; but love and wisdom
must find out the way. Infinite love and infinite wisdom consulting
together, what distance can they not swallow up? What difficulty can they
not overcome?
And here you have it, the distance undertaken to be removed, both by the
Father and the Son,—(for all this while we can do nothing to help it
forward; while the blessed plot is going on, we are posting the faster to
our own destruction). And this is the way condescended upon; _first_, To
fill up that wide gap between his divine spiritual nature, and our mortal
fleshly nature, it is agreed upon, that the Son shall come in our flesh,
and be made partaker of flesh and blood with the children; and this is
meant by this promise, “the Redeemer shall come to Sion;” which is plainly
expressed by his own mouth, John xvi. 28, “I came forth from the Father,
and am come into the world.” There being such a distance between his
majesty and our baseness, love maketh him stoop down and humble himself to
the very state of a servant, Phil. ii. 7, 8. And thus the humiliation of
Christ filleth up the first distance; for “love and majesty cannot long
dwell together,” _nec in una sede morantur majestas et amor_;(298) but
love will draw majesty down below itself, to meet with the object of it.
This was the great journey Christ took to meet with us, and it is downward
below himself; but his love hath chosen it, to be like us, though he
should be unlike himself. How divinely doth the divine apostle speak of
it, “And the Word was made flesh, and he dwelt among us,” John i. 14. And
therefore the children of Adam may in verity say of him, what the holy
Trinity, in a holy irony spake of man, “Lo, he is become as one of us.” It
was a singular and eminent privilege conferred upon man in his first
creation, that the Trinity in a manner consulted about him, “Let us make
man after our image;” but now when man hath lost that image, to have such
a result of the council of the Trinity about it, “let one of us be made
man, to make up the distance between man and us,”—O! what soul can rightly
conceive it without ravishment and wonder, without an ecstacy of
admiration and affection!—that the Lord should become a servant!—the Heir
of all things be stripped naked of all!—the brightness of the Father’s
glory, be thus eclipsed and darkened!—and in a word, that which
comprehendeth all wonders in the creation,—who made all things,—be himself
made of a woman! and God become a man, and all this out of his infinite
love, to give a demonstration of love to the world; so high a person
abased, to exalt so base and low as we are! There is a mystery in this, a
great mystery, a mystery of wisdom, to swallow up the understanding with
wonder; and a mystery of love, to ravish the hearts of men with
affection,—depths of both, in the emptiness of the Son of God. The prophet
doubted what was commanded, to seek a sign, whether in heaven above, or in
the depth beneath; but what he would not ask, God gave in his great mercy,
“Behold a virgin shall conceive a Son, and they shall call his name
Immanuel;” a sign indeed from heaven, and the height of heaven, because he
is God; and a sign from the depth beneath too, because he is man; “God
with us,” and so composed to unite heaven and earth together; “God with
us,” that he might at length bring us to be with God. He became
_Immanuel_, that he might make us _Immelanu_.(299) If that was given as
tidings of great joy, and as the highest and deepest sign of love and
favour, at that time to uphold the fainting church; O! how much more may
it now comfort us, when it is not a virgin shall conceive, but a virgin
hath conceived! May not the joy be increased, that the Redeemer is not to
come, but come already, and hath made up that wide separation which was
between us and him, by his low condescendency to his union with our
nature! This is one step of advancement towards that happy marriage, that
the whole creation seems to groan and travail for, Rom. viii. 22. But yet
there is a great difficulty in the way. We are in a state of captivity; we
are prisoners of justice, have sold ourselves and our happiness; and now
our natural inheritance lies in the lake of fire and brimstone,—heirs of
wrath, concluded under the curse of God; and indeed, this was insuperable
to all flesh; neither men nor angels could ransom us from this. The
redemption of the soul of man is so precious, and the redemption of the
inheritance of man, that is, heaven, is so precious too, that none in
heaven or earth can be found, that can pay the price of them, so that it
would have ceased for ever. And here the great design of Christ’s union
with sinners would have been marred and miscarried, if himself had not
undertaken to overcome this too; and indeed, as there could none be found
to open the seals of the book of God’s decrees concerning his church,—none
worthy in heaven or earth but the Lamb, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, he
prevailed to open it, and loose the seals thereof, Rev. v. 3-5. So there
could none be found in heaven or earth, neither under the earth, worthy to
undertake or accomplish this work, or able to open the seals of the book
of God’s curses, or to blot out the hand-writing of ordinances that was
against us, or to open the prison of death in which man was shut up; none,
I say, hath been found worthy or prevailed, but the Lamb of God and Lion
of the tribe of Judah; and therefore the four and twenty elders that sit
round about the throne, and the four beasts, with the innumerable company
of angels, and spirits of just men made perfect, fell down before the
Lamb, every one of them with harps, and they sung a new song, “Worthy is
the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and
strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing; for thou hast redeemed us
to God by thy blood.” And every creature says Amen to this, and consents
to this, to do him homage; to him who alone was worthy, and as willing to
do it as worthy for it. I think the 16th verse of this chapter gives us a
sensible representation of this. The preceding discourse from the
beginning, holding out the sinful and deplorable condition of that people,
and in them, as a type of the desperate wickedness of all mankind, and
withal their desperate misery, for Paul, (Rom. iii.) maketh the
application for us; and from this, concludeth all under sin, and so all
under wrath, all guilty, that every mouth may be stopped; men waiting for
light, and behold obscurity; for brightness, but walking in darkness;
groping for the wall, like the blind, stumbling at noon-day as in the
night, and in desolate places as dead men; all roaring like beasts, and
mourning like doves, whenever the apprehension of the terror of God
entereth. Now it is subjoined, verse 16, “And he saw that there was no
man,” &c.; as if he had waited and looked through all the world, if any
would appear, either to speak or do for man, if any would offer
themselves, and interpose themselves for his salvation. “Therefore his own
arm brought salvation, and his righteousness, it sustained him.” Therefore
the Son of God steps in and offers himself, as if God had first essayed
all others, and when heaven is full of wonder and silence, he breaks out
in this, “Lo, I come to do thy will,” Psal. xl. Since I have gotten a body
to be like sinners, I will also come in their place, and I will give my
life a ransom for them; and therefore it is subjoined, “the Redeemer shall
come to Zion;” he shall come clothed with vengeance and indignation as a
garment, against the enemies of his church, sin and Satan, in zeal and
burning love to his designed spouse. He shall strengthen himself, and stir
up his might and fury against all that detain her captive.
Now, indeed, he is the only fittest person for this business in heaven or
earth; for he hath both right to do it, and he only hath might and power
to accomplish it. He hath right to the redemption of sinners, because he
is our kinsman, nearest of blood to us.
Now, you know the right of redemption belonged to the kinsman, Lev. xxv.
25. And therefore when the nearest kinsman could not redeem Naomi and
Ruth’s parcel of land, Boaz did it, as being next. And suitable to this,
our Lord Jesus, when others as near could not, and were not able, he hath
done it, and taken men and angels to witness, that he hath first redeemed
us, that he might marry us, as Eph. v.; that he hath purchased us to be
his wife. And indeed the very word imports this; _Goel_,(300) a redeemer
and kinsman, passing under one word: so Job, “I know that my Redeemer,” or
my kinsman, “liveth:” and because our kinsman, therefore most interested
in our redemption; for, for this end he became partaker of flesh and blood
with the children, that he might destroy our greatest enemy, Satan, and
redeem us, Heb. ii. 14. And besides, he hath right to redemption, as the
Church’s husband, because he must mediate between her and all others; none
can reach her, except he please, or prosecute a plea against her, as in
the case of the wife’s making a vow, if her husband consented not, it was
void, (Numb. xxx.,) but if he heard of it and held his peace, it was
confirmed. Now the Lord Jesus hath known this deplorable estate in which
we are captives, and he hath testified his utter dislike of our binding
over ourselves to death, and resigning ourselves to Satan; and therefore
this bondage in which we are detained, is not confirmed and ratified, but
he hath right remaining to redeem us from the hand of all our enemies. But
then, he alone hath might and power to do it, for God hath laid help on
him, and made him able and mighty to save us to the uttermost. It was not
gold or silver, or corruptible things. Suppose the whole earth were turned
into gold or precious stones; he must give person for person, and one
person equivalent to all—his own life, his own blood for us; and the value
of this was infinitely raised by the stamp of his divinity put upon it.
The king for the servant,—one that knew no sin for sinners,—yea, God for
man. This superadds infinite worth, and makes it an over-ransom, and over
purchase, a ransom to buy our persons from hell, a purchase to redeem us
to our inheritance, heaven, that we had lost, and these two styles it
gets, λυτρον, αντιλυτρον.(301)
Now, you see the great difficulty is overcome and taken out of the way:
Christ, being made a curse, hath purchased a redemption from the curse of
the law, Gal. iii. 13. But yet, there is another point of vast distance, I
may say contrariety and enmity, between us and him. He is holy and
undefiled, all fair, and no spot in him; we are wholly defiled and
depraved by sin, our souls are become the habitation of devils, and a cage
of every unclean and hateful bird; in a word, he hath not only our enemies
to overcome, but our own hearts to conquer, and our enmity to take away.
This makes the widest separation from him. Now, he filled up much of the
distance, with his taking our flesh, and he removed the great difficulty,
by dying in our flesh his humiliation to be a man, brought him nearer us,
and his further humiliation to be a dying, crucified, and buried man,
brought him yet a step nearer us. But nearer he cannot come, for lower he
cannot be, except he were a sinner, which would mar the whole design, and
take away all the comfort of his likeness to us. Therefore, since he hath
come so low down to us, it is suitable we be raised up one step to meet
him, and so the exaltation of sinners shall make up all the distance, and
bring the two parties to that long since designed, and long desired
meeting. Now, for this end and purpose, the Son undertakes the redemption
of his church from sin and ungodliness as well as wrath, and therefore you
have that which is expressed as the character of the redeemed in this
verse. It is exponed as the great point or part of the redemption itself
by the apostle, Rom. xi. “The Redeemer shall come to Sion, and shall turn
away ungodliness from Jacob.” And so his end was not only to be a partaker
of our nature, but to make us partakers of the divine nature, and
therefore the Father, out of his love to this business, promised to send
his Spirit to dwell in our hearts, to make the word sound in our mouths
and ears, and the Spirit to work in our hearts, and this exaltation of
sinners to the participation of the Holy Spirit, together with Christ’s
humiliation to partake of our flesh, makes up the full distance, and
bringeth Christ and his church to that holy patient impatience, and
longing for the day when it shall be solemnized in heaven. The Spirit
within us says, Come, and the bride says, Come. Even so come, Lord Jesus.
And he waits for nothing, but the completing and adorning of all the rest,
that there may be one jubilee for all and for ever. Now I wish we could
understand the absolute and free tenor of God’s covenant. There is much
controversy speculative about the condition of the covenant, about the
promises, whether absolute or conditional; and there is too much practical
debate in perplexed consciences about this, how to find something in
themselves to fit and fashion them for the redemption. But truly, if we
would not disjoin and dismember the truth of God, but take it all entirely
as one great design of love and mercy revealed to sinners, and so conjoin
the promises of the covenant into one bundle, we would certainly find that
it hath the voice of Jacob, though it seem to have the hand of Esau; we
find an absolute, most free and unconditioned sense, when there is a
conditional strain and shadow of words in some places. The truth is, the
turning of souls from ungodliness is not properly a condition exacted from
us, as a promise to be performed in us, and the chiefest part of Christ’s
redemption; and though some abuse the grace of God, and turn it into
wantonness and liberty, yet certainly, this doctrine, that makes the
greatest part of the glad news of the gospel to be redemption from sin,
and the pouring out of the Spirit, is the greatest persuasive to a godly
conversation, and the most deadly enemy to all ungodliness.
I thought to have spoken more of that third thing I proponed,(302) but
take it in a word. This was always proponed to the church as the strongest
cordial, it was given here as the greatest consolation in all their long
captivity, that this Redeemer was afterwards to come, whose virtue was
then living, and present to the quickening and comforting of souls. It was
thought enough to uphold in a most desperate strait, “To us a child is
born,” Isa. ix. 6. I wish we could take it so. Certainly it was the
character of a believer before Christ’s coming, that he was one that was
looking and waiting for the salvation of Israel, by this Redeemer. But now
we are surrounded with consolation before and behind,—Christ already come,
so that we may in joy say, Lo! this is our God, we have waited for him!
others waited and longed, and we see him,—and Christ shortly to come again
without sin, to our salvation. And what could be able to take our joy from
us, if we had one eye always back to his first coming, and another always
forward to his coming again?
Sermon XV.
Isaiah lxiv 6, 7.—“But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our
righteousnesses are as filthy rags,” &c.
This people’s condition agreeth well with ours, though the Lord’s dealing
be very different. The confessory part of this prayer belongeth to us now;
and strange it is, that there is such odds of the Lord’s dispensations,
when there is no difference in our conditions; always we know not how soon
the complaint may be ours also. This prayer was prayed long before the
judgment and captivity came on, so that it had a prophecy in the bosom of
it. Nay, it was the most kindly and affectionate way of warning the people
could get, for Isaiah to pour forth such a prayer, as if he beheld with
his eyes the calamity, as already come. And indeed it becometh us so to
look on the word, as if it gave a present being to things as certain and
sensible as if they were really. What strange stupidity must be in us,
when present things, inflicted judgments, committed sins, do not so much
affect us, as the foresight of them did. Love Isaiah! Always,(303) as this
was registrate for the people’s use, to cause them to still look on
judgments threatened, as performed and present, and anticipate the day of
affliction by repentance; and also to be a pattern to them, how to deal
with God, and plead with him from such grounds of mercy and
covenant-interest: so it may be to us a warning, especially when sin is
come to the maturity, and our secure backsliding condition is with child
of sad judgments, when the harvest seemeth ripe to put the sickle into it.
There is in these two verses, a confession of their own sinfulness, from
which grounds they justify God’s proceeding with them, they take the cause
upon themselves, and justify him in his judging, whether temporal or
spiritual plagues were inflicted. In this verse,(304) they take a general
survey of their sinful estate, concluding themselves unclean, and all
their performances and commanded duties, which they counted once their
righteousness: and from this ground, they clear God’s dealing with them,
and put their mouths in the dust; and so from the Lord’s judgment they are
forced to enter into a search of the cause of so much sin; and from
discovered sin, they pronounce God righteous in his judgment. Perceiving a
great difference in the Lord’s manner of dealing with them, and their
fathers, they do not refound(305) it upon God, who is righteous in all his
ways, but retort it upon themselves, and find a vast discrepance between
themselves and their fathers, verse 5. And so it was no wonder that God’s
dispensation changed upon them. God was wont to meet others, to show
himself gracious, even to prevent strokes, but now he was wroth with them.
Nay, but there is good cause for it. They rejoice and wrought
righteousness, but we have sinned. And this may be said in the
general,—never one needeth to quarrel God for severe dealing. If he deal
worse with one than with another, let every man look into his own bosom,
and see reason sufficient; yea, more provocation in themselves than
others. Always in this verse, they come to a more distinct view of their
loathsome condition. Anybody may wrap up their repentance in a general
notion of sin, but they declare themselves to be more touched with it, and
condescend on particulars, yet such particulars as comprehend many others.
And in this confession, you may look on the Spirit’s work, having some
characters of the Spirit in it.
I. They take a general view of their uncleanness and loathsome estate by
sin; not only do they see sin, but sin in the sinfulness of it and
uncleanness of it.
II. They not only conclude so of the natural estate they were born in, and
the loathsomeness of their many foul scandals among them; but they go a
further length, to pass as severe a sentence on their duties and
ordinances as God hath done, Isa. i. and lxvi. The Spirit convinceth
according to scripture’s light, and not according to the dark spark of
nature’s light; and so that which nature would have busked(306) itself
with as its ornament, that which they had covered themselves with as their
garment, the duties they had spread, as robes of righteousness, over their
sins to hide them; all this now goeth under the name of filthiness and
sin. They see themselves wrapt up in as vile rags as they covered and hid:
commanded duties and manifest breaches come in one category. And not only
is it some of them which their own conscience could challenge in the time,
but all of them and all kinds of them, moral and ceremonial, duties that
were most sincere, had most affection in them, all of them are filthy rags
now, which but of late were their righteousness.
III. There is an universality, not only of the actions, but of persons;
not only all the peoples or multitudes’ performances are abomination; but
all of them, Isaiah, and one and other, the holiest of them, come in in
this category and rank—“we are all unclean,” &c. Though the people, it may
be, could not join holy Isaiah with themselves, yet humble Isaiah will
join himself with the people, and come in, in one prayer. And no doubt, he
was as sensible of sin now, as when he began to prophesy; and growing in
holiness, he must grow also in sense of sinfulness. Seeing at the first
sight of God’s holiness and glory, he cried “unclean,” &c. Isa. vi. 5,
certainly he doth so now, from such a principle of access to God’s
holiness, which maketh him abhor himself in dust and ashes.
IV. They are not content with such a general, but condescend to two
special things, two spiritual sins, viz. omission, or shifting of
spiritual duties, which contained the substance of worship. “None calleth
on thee,” few or none, none to count upon, calleth on thee; that is,
careth for immediate access and approaching unto God in prayer and
meditation, &c. Albeit external and temple-duties be frequent, yet who
prayeth in secret? or if any pray, that cannot come in count, the Lord
knoweth them not, because they want the Spirit’s stamp on them. This
must be some other thing than the general conviction of sin which the
world hath, who think they pray all their days; here people, who though
they make many prayers, Isa. i., yet they see them no prayers, and no
calling on God’s name now.
V. To make the challenge the more, and the confession more spiritual and
complete, there is discovered to them this ground of their slackness and
negligence in all spiritual duties, “None stirreth up himself to take hold
on thee.” Here is the want of the exercise of faith: faith is the soul’s
hand and grip, John i. 12; Heb. vi. 18; 1 Tim. vi. 12; Isa. xxvii. 5.
Nobody awaketh themselves out of their deadness and security, to lay hold
on thee. Lord, thou art going away, and taking good-night of the land, and
nobody is like to hold thee by the garment; no Jacobs here, who will not
let thee go, till thou bless them; none to prevail with thy Majesty,—every
one is like to give Christ a free passport and testimonial to go abroad,
and are almost Gadarenes, to pray him to depart out of their coasts. There
is a strange looseness and indifferency in men’s spirits concerning the
one thing necessary. Men lie by and dream over their days, and never put
the soul’s estate out of question; none will give so much pains, as to
clear their interest in thee, to lay hold on thee, so as they may make
peace with thee. Now, can there be a more ample and lively description of
our estate, both of the land and of particular persons of it? Since this
must not be limited to the nation of the Jews, though the prophet spake of
the generality of them, yet, no doubt, all mankind is included in the
first six verses; and any secure people may be included in the seventh
verse, for Paul applieth even such like speeches (Rom. xi. 13.) that were
spoken, as you would think, of David’s enemies only. Yet the Spirit of God
knowing the mind of the Spirit, maketh a more general use of their
condition, to hold out the natural estate of all men out of Christ Jesus.
But there are in these two verses other two things beside the
acknowledgment of sin:
I. The acknowledgment of God’s righteousness in punishing them, for now
they need not quarrel God, they find the cause of their fading in their
own bosom. They now join sin and punishment together, whereas in the time
of their prosperity they separated punishment from sin; and in the time of
their security in adversity they separated sin from punishment: at one
time making bare confession of sin, without fear of God’s justice, at
another time fretting and murmuring at his judgments, without the sense of
their sin. But now they join both these, and the sight and sense of God’s
displeasure maketh sin more bitter, and to abound more, and to appear in
the loathsome and provoking nature of it, so that their acknowledgment
hath an edge upon it. And again, the sight and sense of sin maketh the
judgment appear most righteous, and stoppeth their mouth from murmuring.
In the time of their impenitency under the rod, their language was very
indifferent, Ezek. xviii. 2. “The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the
children’s teeth are set on edge;” they have sinned and we suffer; they
have done the wrong and we pay for it. But it is not so now, ver. 5. The
fathers have done righteousness in respect of us, and thou wast good unto
them; but we are all unclean, and have sinned, and so we are punished.
II. They find some cause and ground in God of their general defection; not
that he is the cause of their sin, but in a righteous way he punished sin
with sin. God hid his face, denied special grace and influence; and so
they lie still in their security, and their sin became a spiritual plague.
Or this may be so read,—_None calleth on thy name, when thou didst hide
thy face from us, and when thou didst consume us because of our
iniquities_; and so it serveth to aggravate their deep security, that,
though the Lord was departing from them, yet none would keep him and hold
him. Though he did strike, yet they prayed not; affliction did not awake
them out of security, and so the last words, “Thou hast consumed us,” &c.,
are differently exponed and read. Some make it thus, as it is in the
translation, “Thou hast hid thy face,” and left us in a spiritual
deadness, that so there might be no impediment to bring on deserved
judgment. If we had called on thee, and laid hold on thee, it might have
been prevented, we might have prevailed with God, but now our defence is
removed, and thou hast given us up to a spirit of slumber, and so we have
no shield to hold off the stroke,—thou hast now good leave to consume us
for our sins. Another sense may be—_Thou hast suffered us to consume in
our iniquity, thou hast given us up to the hand of our sins._ And this is
also a consequent of his hiding his face. Because thou didst hide thy
face, thou lettest us perish in our sins; there needeth no more for our
consumption, but only help us not out of them, for we can soon destroy
ourselves.
_First_, Sin is in its own nature loathsome, and maketh one unclean before
God. Sin’s nature is filthiness, vileness, so doth Isaiah speak of
himself, chap. vi. 5, when he saw God’s holiness; so doth Job abhor
himself, which is the affection which turneth a man’s face off a
loathsome object, when he saw God, Job xl. 4, and xlii. 6. Look how
loathsome our natural condition is holden out by God himself, Ezek. xvi.
You cannot imagine any deformity in the creature, any filthiness, but it
is there. The filthiness and vileness of sin shall appear, if we consider
_first_ that sin is a transgression of the holy and spiritual command, and
so a vile thing, the commandment is holy and good, Rom. vii. And sin
violateth and goeth flat contrary to the command, 1 John iii. 4. When so
just and so equitable a law is given, God might have exacted other
rigorous duties from us, but when it is so framed that the conscience must
cry out, All is equity, all is righteous and more than righteous, thou
mightest command more, and reward none. It is justice to command, but it
is mercy to promise life to obedience, which I owe,—what then must the
offence be, against such a just command, and so holy? If holiness be the
beauty of the creation, sin must be the deformity of it, the only spot in
its face.
_Secondly_, Look upon sin in the sight of God’s holiness and infinite
majesty, and O how heinous will it appear! and therefore no man hath seen
sin in the vileness of it, but in the light of God’s countenance, as Isa.
vi. 5, Job. xl. and xlii. God is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity,
he cannot look on it, Hab. i. 13. All other things beside sin, God
looketh on them as bearing some mark of his own image, all was very good,
and God saw it, Gen. i. and ii. Even the basest creatures God looketh on
them, and seeth himself in them, but sin is only God’s eyesore, that his
holiness cannot away with it, it is most contrary unto him, and as to his
sovereignty, it is a high contempt and rebellion done to God’s Majesty.
It putteth God off the throne, will take no law from him, will not
acknowledge his law, but, as it were, spitteth in his face, and
establisheth another god. There is no punishment so evil, that God will
not own as his work, and declare himself to be the author of it, but only
sin, his soul abhorreth it, his holy will is against it, he will have no
fellowship with it, it is so contrary to him: contradicteth his will,
debaseth his authority, despiseth his sovereignty, upendeth his truth.
There is a kind of infiniteness in it, nothing can express it but itself
no name worse than itself to set it out, the apostle can get no other
epithet to it, Rom. vii. 13, than “sinful” sin, so that it cometh in most
direct opposition unto God. All that is in God, is God himself, and there
is no name can express him sufficiently. If you say God, you say more
than can be expressed by many thousand other words. So it is here—sin is
purely sin, God is purely good and holy, without mixture, holiness itself,
sin is simply evil, without mixture, unholiness itself. Whatever is in
it, is sin, is uncleanness. Sin is an infinite wrong, and an infinite and
boundless filthiness, because of the infinite person wronged. It is an
offence of infinite Majesty and the person wronged aggravateth the
offence, if it be simply contrary to infinite holiness, it must be, in
that respect, infinite unholiness and uncleanness.
_Thirdly_, Look upon the sad effects and consequences of sin,—how
miserable, how ruinous it hath made man, and all the creation, and how
vile must it be!
I. Look on man’s native beauty and excellency, how beautiful a creature!
But sin hath cast him down from the top of his excellency, sin made Adam
of a friend an enemy, of a courtier with God an open rebel. Was not man’s
soul of more price than all the world, so that nothing can exchange it?
Yet hath sin debased it, and prostituted it to all vile filthy pleasures,
hath made the immortal spirit to dwell on the dunghill, feed on ashes,
catch vanities, lying vanities, pour out itself to them, serve all the
creatures—whereas it should have made them servants, yea, a slave to his
own greatest enemy, to the ground he treadeth upon. O what a degenerate
plant! It was a noble vine once in paradise, but sin hath made it a wild
one, to bring forth sour grapes. What is there in all the world could
defile a man? Matt. xv. 20. Nothing that goeth out or cometh in, but sin
that proceedeth out of the heart. Man was all light, his judgment sinned
into his affections, and through all the man, but sin hath made all
darkness, closed up the poor captive understanding, hath built up a thick
wall of gross corrupted affections about it, so that light can neither get
in nor out. The soul was like a clear running fountain, which yielded
fresh clear streams of holy inclinations, desires, affections, actions and
emptied itself in the sea of immense Majesty from which these streams
first flowed, but now it is a standing putrified puddle, that casteth a
vile stink round about, and hath no issue towards God. Man was a glorious
creature, fit to be lord over the work of God’s own hands, and therefore
had God’s image in a special manner, holiness and righteousness, God’s
nature. A piece of divinity was stamped on man, which outshined all
created perfections. The sun might blush when it looked on him, for what
was material glory to the glory of holiness and beauty of God’s image! But
sin hath robbed poor man of this glorious image, hath defaced man, marred
all his glory, put on an hellish likeness on him. Holiness only putteth
the difference between angels in heaven and devils in hell, and sin only
hath made the difference between Adam in paradise, and sinners on the
cursed ground, Rom. iii. 23.
II. Sin hath so redounded through man unto all the creation, that it hath
defiled it, and made it corruptible and subject to vanity, (Rom. viii. 20,
&c.,) so that this is a spot in all the creature’s face,—that man hath
sinned, and used all as weapons of unrighteousness, so that now the
creature groaneth to be delivered.
III. It hath brought on all the misery that is come on man, or that is to
come, it hath brought on death and damnation as its wages, and the curse
of the eternal God, Gal. iii. 13, Rom. vi. 23. How odious then an evil
must it be, that hath so much evil in it yea, all evil in the bosom of it!
Hell is not evil in respect of sin, for sin deserveth hell, it hath ruined
man, and made all the beautiful order of the creation to change.
IV. It separateth man from God, which is worst of all, and this is
included in the text, “We are all as an unclean thing,” or man is as a
leprous man set apart, because of pollution, that may not come to the
temple, or worship God, so hath iniquity separated between God and us,
Isa. lix. 2. And O how sad a divorcement is this! it maketh men without
God in the world, in whom we live, and move, and have our being, in whose
favour is life, and at whose right hand are pleasures for evermore. Now
poor man is made miserable, deprived of his felicity, which only consisted
in enjoyment of God. Sin as a thick partition wall, is come in between,
enmity also is come in, and divideth old friends, Eph. ii. 14-17, and now
no heavenly or comfortable influence can break through the night of
darkness is begun which must prove everlasting. Except the partition-wall
be removed, all must wither and decay as without the sun.
V. Look on the price paid for sin, on the cleansing that washeth it away,
and you may see unspeakable deformity and vileness in it. The redemption
of the soul is precious silver and gold and precious stones will not do
it,—that would be utterly contemned. “What!” saith God, “presumptuous
sinner, wilt thou give me a farthing in payment of a sum which all the
world, sold at the dearest, would not discharge?” Psal. xlix. 7, 8, 1
Pet. i. 18. It is no corruptible thing, but the blood of the Son of God. O
what must the debt be, when the price is so infinite! the Son of God must
die, nay, it is not sacrifice or offering—“Lo, I come to do thy will,” it
is Christ himself that is the ransom, Psal. xl. 6, 7. And it is not much
soap or nitre, it is not much repentance and tears that will wash away
this filthiness, no, it is of a deeper dye, it is crimson ingrained
filthiness, Jer. ii. 22 and Isa. i. 16. Blood of bulls and goats cannot do
it, but only the blood of the immaculate Lamb offered up by himself, (Heb.
x. 4, 5,) the blood of Him, “who by the eternal Spirit offered up himself
without spot unto God,” Heb. ix. 14. What must sin be, that must have such
a fountain opened for it? It must be strange uncleanness when the blood of
Christ only can cleanse it, Zech. xiii. 1.
“We all,” &c. Mark, _first_, Sin hath gone over us all, and made all
mankind unclean, Rom. iii. 10, 22. Every one of Adam’s posterity is born
unclean, “For who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean?” Job. xiv. 4.
Consider: How sin defaced innocent Adam, how one sin made him so vile, and
spoiled him of the divine nature, and so the root was made unclean, and
the branches must follow the root, and so are we all born and conceived in
sin, Psalm li. 5. We carry in us original corruption, flowing from the
first actual sin of Adam, and this maketh poor children, before they do
good or evil, to be abominably vile in God’s sight, even as the child is
set out, Ezek. xvi. Every one cometh of evil parents, all come of Adam the
rebel, what a loathsome sight would a child be to us so described, “Cast
out in the open field, to the loathing of its person in the day it is
born,” and what must it all be before God, who is of purer eyes than to
behold sin? _Secondly_, Unto all this we have added innumerable actual
transgressions as so many filthy streams flowing out at the members, from
the inward puddle of original corruption; and so how much more vile are we
all nor infants can be, or Adam was in the day he was cast out of
paradise! And thus, Rom. iii. from verse 10, are the branches set down in
word, thought, and deed; so that all the inclinations and motions and
actions of the man are only evil continually. Every man shall find his
count past counting; one day’s faults would weary you, but what will your
whole life do? Known sins are innumerable, what must unknown be? Every
man’s heart is like the troubled sea, that casteth up mire and dirt daily,
and cannot be at rest. The heart is daily flowing and ebbing in this
corruption, it cometh out daily to the borders of all the members; and
there are some high spring-tides, when sin aboundeth more. When in one
member of the tongue a world of evil is, what can be in all the members?
And what in the soul, that is more capable than all the world? Well, then,
every man hath sinned in Adam, and hath sinned also in his own person, and
sealed Adam’s first rebellion by so many thousand actions like it. Every
man hath approven the sin that first ruined man, and made himself much
more loathsome nor Adam was; therefore all mankind may say, “We all are as
an unclean thing.” Now from all this, we would gladly discover unto you
what your condition is by sin; if the Lord would shine, how vile would you
be! Always we must declare this unto you in the Lord’s name, you are all
unclean, not only born in sin and iniquity, not only have you a body of
death within you, that hath all the members; but all these members have
one time or other acted and brought forth fruit unto death. How vile,
then, must you be in God’s sight! It is a strange love that you have to
yourselves, that you cannot apprehend how God can hate you! But if he find
sin in you, wonder rather how he can look upon you; we would then have you
to know this, that there can be no fellowship between God and you in your
natural estate. As men cannot inhabit a vile person’s house, no more can
God enter into your souls. There is an absolute necessity of washing,
before you can be his house and temple. Hath that one sin of Adam made
that glorious person so deformed, that he could not look on himself, but
cover himself? And hath it been of so defiling a nature, that it hath
redounded in all the posterity; and, as unclean things under the law
defiled all they touched, so hath that sin subjected all the creatures to
corruption? O then imagine what an unspeakable defilement must be on us
all, who are not only guilty of Adam’s sin, but of many thousands beside!
If one sin have so much loathsomeness in it, what must so many out of
number, united in one person, even as in us all? No unclean thing can
enter into heaven above: know this for a truth, you cannot see God’s face
in the case you are born into. You know nothing of sin, who wonder that
any should go to hell. No, if you knew anything of sin, you would wonder
that ever God should look on such cast out in the open field in their
blood.
_Next_, You must know the insufficiency of all things imaginable, to wash
away sin’s filthiness, except the blood of Christ. Since you are unclean,
do you not ask, how shall we be washed? Indeed many have an easy answer,
and pass it lightly. The multitude know no way to cleanse in, but the
tears of repentance and mourning; and so, many think themselves clean,
when they run and pour out a tear as Esau did for the blessing. But what
saith the Lord? “Though thou wash thee with nitre, and take thee much
soap, yet thine iniquity is marked.” Can such an ingrained uncleanness,
can such an infinite spot in the immortal soul, be so lightly dashed out?
Many think baptism cleanseth them, but was not this people circumcised, as
ye are baptized? And Peter tells us, it is not the washing of water, &c.
1 Pet. iii. 21. Sacrifice and offering will not do it. This people
thought, sure they had satisfied God, when they brought a lamb, &c., but
all this is abomination. Would not many of you think yourselves cleansed
from sin, if you offered all your substance, and the fruit of your body
for the sin of your soul? Nay, but you must see an absolute necessity of
the opened fountain of Christ’s blood, that cleanseth from all sin.
Then we would have you abhor yourselves in dust and ashes, and see nothing
in all the creation so vile as you; look on sin in the sight of God’s
face, and how unholy will it appear! There are many sins, little ones,
that in our practice pass for venal and uncontrolled; but look on the
filthy loathsome nature of all sin, and hate the least offence, for it
hath a kind of infiniteness in it, and blotteth the soul, defileth the
person. How great a necessity is there of continual application to the
fountain, of dwelling beside it, that you may wash daily! David’s so
often repeated and inculcated prayer, “Wash me, cleanse me,” &c. Psalm
li., declareth that he hath apprehended much uncleanness in sin, that it
needeth so many applications of the precious blood. And you who have come
to Jesus, and are clean, O how much owe you to free grace, that passed by
you in your blood, and said, “Live, it is a time of love!” How strange is
it, that glorious Majesty cometh to own deformity, and cometh to clothe it
with his own garments! Praise the virtue of that blood, that is more
precious than the blood of bulls and goats, that can so throughly purge,
as you shall have no more conscience of sin.
Unclean sinners, wash you, make you clean,—there is a fountain opened;
though sin were as scarlet, it can perfectly change the colour of it. If
you wash not while the fountain is open, it will quickly be sealed on you,
and then it shall be said, when the angel sweareth by him that liveth
forever and ever, that time shall be no more, then shall it be said, “let
him that is unclean be unclean still.” Now, cleansing is offered in the
gospel,—if you will love your loathsomeness so well, as not to dip
yourselves in this fountain, then let the unclean be so still. Your
repentance will never change your colour, though you should melt in
sorrow: and therefore you who have found a way to be saved otherwise
nor(307) by Jesus Christ, you shall be deceived. Your tears and mourning
that you might have had, though Christ had never come into the world, is
all you use to speak of, and build your hope on; and if you speak of
Christ, it is in such terms as to buy him by such repentance; so that the
truth is, you use but Christ’s name as a shadow, you make no use of him;
he needed not to have come into the world, for many of you could have done
as well without him. But as many of you as cannot find cleansing, who see
filth increase by washing, come to Christ Jesus, and say, “If you wilt,
thou canst make me clean,” Matt viii. 2. Nothing beside Jesus can do
it—believe his sufficiency. Nothing beside him will do—believe his
willingness; for, for this cause he is an open fountain, that all may come
and draw.
Sermon XVI.
Isaiah lxiv. 6, 7.—“All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags,
and we all do fade as a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind,
have taken us away.”
Not only are the direct breaches of the command uncleanness, and men
originally and actually unclean, but even our holy actions, our commanded
duties. Take a man’s civility, religion, and all his universal inherent
righteousness,—all are filthy rags. And here the church confesseth nothing
but what God accuseth her of, Isa. lxvi. 8, and chap. i. ver. 11, 12, 13,
&c. This people was much in ceremonial and external duties; and therefore
they cried, “The temple of the Lord, the temple of Lord!” as if this would
have outcried all their other sins; therefore were they proud, and lords
in their own estimation, and innocent, Jer. ii. 31, 35. They thought the
many good services they did to God might compense all their wrongs, Mic.
vi. 6, 7. They gave a price to justice for their sins, even a confession
of it, by offering a lamb, &c. and a purpose to amend. But, lo! what sense
the prophet hath of all this, “Lord, all our righteousnesses” are filthy
likewise. Albeit we have paid the debt of sins with duties, yet now we see
all these are sins themselves, and must have another sacrifice; so that
all matter of boasting is now removed, and we are stript naked of all
righteousness. We covered our filthiness before with duties, now both the
one and the other is filthy. We would look upon two sorts of
righteousnesses, the natural man’s, and the converted man’s, upon the
one’s civility and fair profession, and upon the other’s real or true
grace in discharge of duties, and we shall find good reason to conclude
both the one and the other under filthiness, so that there is no ground of
boasting, no inherent righteousness can make us accepted before God.
_First_, then, Whatever men can do from natural principles, all the flower
and perfection of men’s actions, both civil and religious, is but
abominable before God, as long as their persons are unjustified. Every
performance is defiled by the uncleanness of the person; and therefore God
heareth not sinners, (John viii.,) that is, unjustified sinners; though
they pray much, yet God heareth them not. And this is lively expressed by
Hag. ii. 12, 13, 14. As the priest’s holy garments and flesh could not
make bread or pottage holy, but the unclean body could make these unclean;
so this nation’s and people’s performances and holy duties, could not make
them holy, and their persons clean, but their unclean persons and actions
made all their performances unclean. The solemn meeting and sacrifice, &c.
could not make them accepted, but their unclean persons made their solemn
meetings and religious duties vile and abominable in God’s sight: and thus
to the unclean all things are unclean, even their mind and conscience,
Tit. i. 15. The unbelieving man, who is born unclean, and defiled with so
much original corruption, and so many actual transgressions, defileth all
things he toucheth. As a dead body, or a leprous garment, under the law,
made all unclean it touched, and nothing could make it holy by touching of
it; so all your civility, all your profession, will never contribute to
the cleansing of your person; and your persons shall defile all your most
clean actions. God loveth not that stock of Adam, and all that groweth on
it must be hateful; he is only well-pleased in Jesus Christ, and with
those who are transplanted out of rotten Adam into the true vine Jesus. It
is such fruit only that can be acceptable; therefore, until you be
sprinkled with clean water, and made clean according to the new
covenant-way, you cannot please God. Believe this,—your sins and your
duties are one, your oaths and your prayers are in the same account with
God. What have you then to build upon, when all this is removed? You must
once he stript naked of all coverings; and will not your nakedness then be
great? The Pharisee went away unjustified, and the poor repenting sinner
justified. What was the reason? There are not many of you have such a fair
venture for heaven as he had,—so many prayers, fastings, alms, to ground
your hope on. Nay, but all this would never justify his person, because
once he was unclean, come of Adam, and had contracted more uncleanness,
and all that is like the leprous garment, defiling all that cometh near
it; so that whatever hath any dependence on a son of Adam, must contract
filthiness. Now, I ask your consciences, have you so many specious
coverings to adorn yourself with? Is not your outside spotted, and not so
clean as the young civil man and the religious Pharisee? Certainly no; and
yet you have no other ground to plead the acceptation of your persons
upon, but only this, your prayers and tears, or some such duty performed
by you. Well, all is uncleanness, since your persons were once unclean,—no
soap nor nitre can wash it, no holy flesh make it holy, no good wishes nor
duties can make it acceptable. Did not this people think of their duties
as much as you do? and had more reason so to do; for our congregations
have not so much form of godliness as they had, and yet God solemnly
protested to them that all their works were defiled, even those which they
took to wash themselves with. So your repentance and tears must be as
filthy as the sin you would wash by it.
_Secondly_, The uncleanness of men’s practice maketh unclean performances.
Unclean hands maketh unclean prayers, Isa. i. 15. When men go on in sin,
and use their members as instruments of unrighteousness against God, and
guiltiness is above their head unrepented of and unpardoned, then whatever
the members act for God in religious duties, it must be also abominable;
for will God take prayers from such a mouth, that cursing cometh out of?
Isa. iii. 10, 11, 12. Shall sweet water come out of one fountain with
bitter? Or can a fig-tree bear both thistles and grapes? Certainly,
profane conversation must make unclean profession; and therefore your
coming to the church and ordinances, your praying in your families, or
such like, must of necessity be defiled, since out of the same mouth
cometh cursing, railing, lying, filthy speeches. Your tongues are so often
employed in God’s dishonour, to blaspheme his name, to slander your
neighbours, to reproach the saints, that all your prayers must be of the
same stamp, and as bitter as the other stream of your actions. When you
stretch forth your hands to make many prayers, to take the bread and wine,
shall not God hide his face from such hands as are unclean with many
abominations, some murdering, some abusing their neighbours, some sabbath
breaking, some filthiness? How oft have your hands and feet served you to
evil turns? And therefore, your good turns will never come in remembrance.
Nay, believe it, you cannot be heard of God, while you cover any offence.
And this I may say in general, even to the saints; any known sin given way
to, and entertained without controlment, without wrestling against it,
hindereth the acceptation of your solemn approaches. If your heart regard
iniquity, shall God hear? Psal. lxvi. 18. No, believe it, the least sin
that you may judge at first venial, and then give it toleration and
indulgence, shall separate between God’s face and you. Your prayers are
abomination, because of such an idol perked up in the heart beside God,
that getteth the honour and worship due to him, and God must answer you
according to it, Ezek. xix. 1, 3, 4. God will not be inquired of such as
give allowance to sin, Ezek. xiv. 2-4. And, on the other hand, no sin, how
great and heinous soever, can hinder God’s gracious acceptation, when
souls fly unto Jesus and turn their back upon sin, or giveth it no heart
allowance. And to the multitude I say, all that you do or touch in a duty
must be defiled, because your whole way is unclean, Hag. ii. 12-14. Think
you to sin all the week through, and worship God on the Sabbath? Will you
lie, swear, commit adultery, rail and curse, and come and stand before me,
saith the Lord? No, certainly, you cannot be accepted. And will you hate
reformation in your lives, and yet take his covenant in your mouth, and
call yourselves by his name, “Christians?” And shall not God challenge you
for that, as much as for your swearing, and cursing, and lying, &c.?
Indeed the Lord putteth all in one roll, and you need not please
yourselves in such things, Psal. i. 16; Jer. vii. 9, 10; for it is all one
to you to go to tavern to drink, and come to the sermon,—to blaspheme
God’s name, and call on it; because the profanity of the one defileth the
other, and the holiness of the other cannot make you holy.
_Thirdly_, The natural man’s performances want the uprightness, reality,
and sincerity that is required. It is but a painted tomb, full of
rottenness within; it is but a shadow without substance, for he wanteth
the spiritual part of worship, which God careth for, who will be
worshipped “in spirit and in truth,” John iv. 24. Now, what is it that the
most part of you can speak of, but an outside of some few duties, soon
numbered? You hear the preaching, and your hearts wander about your
business. You hear, and are not so much affected as you would be to hear
some old story or fable told you. A stage play acted before this
generation would move them more than the gospel doth; so that Christ may
take up this lamentation, “We have piped to you, and you have not danced;
lamented to you, and you have not mourned.” You use to tell over some
words in your prayers, and are not so serious in any approach to God, as
in twenty other things of the world. Whatever you plead of your heart’s
rightness, and have recourse to it, when your conversation cannot defend
you, yet your hearts are the worst of all, and have no uprightness towards
God; for you know that what duties you go about, it is not from an inward
principle, but from education, or custom, or constraint. Are you upright,
when you are forced, for fear of censure, to come here, or to pray at
home? Is that sincerity and spiritual worship? And for the more polished
and refined professors, you have this moth in your performances, and this
fly to make your ointment to stink, that you do much to be seen of men.
Therefore, what little fervour of spirit is in secret duties, there you
may measure your attitude and your life. And O! how wearisome, how
lifeless are secret approaches! You would not have many errands to God, if
you thought no body looked upon you. And for spirituality, it is a mystery
in all men’s practice. Who directeth his duty to God’s glory? If you get
some flash of liberty, you have your desire; but who misseth God’s
presence in duties, which a world will approve? Who go mourning as without
the sun, even when you have the sunshine of ordinances, and walk in the
light of them?
And, _Fourthly_, Though your performances had uprightness of heart going
along, and much affection in them, yet all are filthy, because of want of
faith in Jesus Christ. When you make your duties a covering of your sins,
and think to satisfy God’s justice for the rest of your faults, by doing
some point of your duty, then it cannot choose but be polluted in his
sight. And this very thing was the cause of God’s rejecting the Jews’
righteousness, even because they did not look to the end of the mystery,
Christ Jesus: did not pull by the vail of ceremonies, to see the
immaculate Lamb of God slain for sin; and therefore doth the Lord so
quarrel with them, as if he had never commanded them to do such things,
Isa. i. 12, 13, “Who hath required these things at your hands? Bring no
more vain oblations;” all is abomination. Even as God should say to you,
when you come to the church, Who required you to come? Who commanded you
to come to hear the preaching? What have you to do to pray? What warrant
have you to communicate? All your praying, hearing, communicating, is
abomination; who commanded you to do these things? Would you not think it
a foolish question? You would soon answer, that God himself commanded you,
and will he not let us do his bidding? Indeed this people, no doubt, have
said so in their heart, and wondered what it meant. Nay, but here is the
mystery,—you go about these commanded duties not in a commanded way, and
so the obedience is but rebellion. You bring offerings and incense, and
think that I am pacified when you bring alms,—you judge you have given me
a recompence; whereas, all that is mine, and what pleasure have I in these
things? I never appointed you sacrifices for this end, but to lead you
into the knowledge of my Son, which is to be slain in the fulness of time,
and by one offering to perfect all. I commanded you to look on Jesus
Christ slain, in the slain Lamb, and so to expect remission and salvation
in him; but you never looked to more nor the ceremony, and made that your
saviour and mediator; and therefore it is all abomination. When you slay a
lamb, and offer incense, it is all one thing as to cut off a dog’s neck,
or kill a man. So may the Lord say to this generation, I command you to
pray, to repent and mourn for sin, to come and hear the word; but withal
you must deny all these, and count yourselves unprofitable servants; you
must singly cast your soul’s burden on Christ Jesus. But now, saith the
Lord, who commanded your repentance? For when you sit down to pray, or
come in public to confess sin before the congregation, you think you are
washen. When you have said, you have sinned, and if you come to the length
of tears and sorrow, O then, sure you are pardoned, though in the meantime
you have no thought of Jesus Christ, and know no use of him! Therefore,
saith the Lord, who commanded you to do these things? You think you have
satisfied for your sin, when you pay a penalty; but who requireth this? I
will reckon with you for these, as well as the sins you pray and mourn
for, because you do not singly look to Christ Jesus. Now, if he had never
come to the world, your ground of confidence would not fail you; for you
might have prayed as much, mourned and confessed, and promised amendment;
and so you pass by the Son of God, in whom only the Father is
well-pleased. Think, then, upon this,—whatever you make your
righteousness, there needeth no other thing to make it filthy, but to make
it your righteousness. Your confidence in your good heart to God, prayer
day and night, and such like, is the most loathsome thing in God’s eyes.
Except you come to this, to count your prayers, as God doth, among your
oaths; to count your solemn duties among profane scandalous actions, as
the Lord doth, Isa. i. and lxvi. 3, then certainly, you do adorn
yourselves with them, and cover your nakedness of other faults with such
leaves as Adam did, but you shall be more discovered. Your garment is as
filthy as that it hideth, even because you make that use of it to hide
your sin and cover it.
_Next_, The Lord’s children have no ground of boasting either, from their
own righteousness; the holiest saint on earth must abhor himself in dust
and ashes, and holy Isaiah joineth himself in with a profane people. When
he cometh to God to be justified, he cometh among the ungodly,—he bringeth
no righteousness with him, he cometh in among them that work not. Now, you
shall find good ground why it must be so:
I. There are ordinarily many blemishes in our holiest actions, spots upon
our cleanest garments; often formality eateth up the life of duties, and
representeth a body without a soul in it. You sit down to pray out of
custom, morning and evening; and if there were no more to prove it, this
may suffice. When pray you but at such times? You have an ordinary, and go
not by it. No advantage is taken of providence, no necessity constraineth
when occasion offereth; and so it is like the world’s appointed hours. How
great deadness and indisposition creepeth in! so that this is the ordinary
complaint; yea, all prayers are filled with it,—scarcely any room for
other petitions, because of the want of frame for prayer itself. The word
is heard as a discourse, and on whom hath it operation to stir up
affections, either of joy or of trembling? Christians, you come not to
hear God speak, and so you meet with empty ordinances—God is not in them.
How often do crooked and sinister ends creep in, and bias the spirit! Men
ask, to spend on their lusts, and to satisfy their own ambition. Some
would have more grace to be more eminent, or to have a more pleasant life;
and this is but the seeking to spend on your lusts. If affection run in
the channel of a duty, it is often muddy, and runneth through our
corruptions: liberty in duties is principled with carnal affection and
self-love. Will not often the wind of applause in company fill the sails,
and make your course swifter and freer nor when you are alone? And often
much love to a particular(308) maketh more in seeking it. And that which
is a moth to eat up and consume all our duties is conceit and
self-confidence in going about them, and attributing to ourselves after
them. It is but very rare that any man both acted from Jesus Christ as the
principle, and also putteth over his work on Christ singly as the end.
Alas! too often do men draw out of Christ’s fulness, and raise up their
own glory upon it, and adorn themselves with the spoils of his honour; for
we use to pray from a habit of it, and go to it as men acquainted with it,
and when we get any satisfaction to our own minds, O how doth the soul
return on itself, and goeth not forward as it goeth! It is so well pleased
with itself, when it getteth liberty to approach, that it doth not put all
over on Jesus, and take shame to itself. As long as there is a body of
death within, holiness cannot be pure and unmixed; our duties run through
a dirty channel, and cannot choose but contract filth. While sin lodgeth
under one roof so near grace, grace must be in its exercise marred; and
therefore the holy apostle must cry, Rom. vii. 19. “The good that I would,
I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do,” and verse 24, “O
wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”
II. Though there were not such blemishes and spots in the face of our
righteousness, yet it is here in a state of imperfection, and but in its
minority, and so must be filthy in the Lord’s sight. It was perfect
holiness, according to the perfect rule of God’s law, that Adam was to be
justified by, according to the covenant of works; exact obedience, not one
wanting,—or else all that can be done, came short of righteousness: one
breach bringeth the curse on. All obedience, if there be a failing in a
little, will not bring the blessing on: he that doth all, liveth; and he
that doth not all, is cursed. And therefore, Christians, all you do cannot
commend your persons to God, for if he examine you by the rule of the law,
O how short will the holiest come! Paul and Isaiah dare not come into such
a reckoning; neither is all obeyed, nor any in the measure and manner
commanded. And therefore, you might cry down all your performances, when
you could challenge them with no particular blot, with this—all is short
of the command, and infinitely short. I have been aiming at holiness so
long, I have stretched out my strength, and what have I attained? It may
be, I have outstripped equals, and there seemeth to be some distance
between me and others; nay, but the command is unspeakably more before me
nor I am before others. I have reached but a span of that boundless
perfection of holiness; it is but a grain weight of the eternal weight of
grace, and I must forget it, and stand before God, as if I had lost mind
of duties, appear in his presence as if I had attained nothing; for the
length that is before my hand drowneth up all attainments.
III. Nay, but put the case were man perfect, yet should he not know his
soul, but despise his life: the Lord putteth no trust in his servants, and
his angels he chargeth with folly, and the heavens are not clean in his
sight; how then must man be abominable, that hath his foundation in the
dust, and drinketh in iniquity like water? How should God magnify him? or
he be righteous that is born of a woman? Job xxv. 4, 6; xv. 14, 15; and
iv. 18, 19. Job was a great length in the sight of his own vileness and
God’s holiness, when he saw this, “Though I were perfect, yet I would not
know it, but despise it; I would not answer him, though I were righteous,”
chap. ix. 14, 15, 21. So unspeakably pure and clean is his holiness, that
all created holiness hath a spot in it before his, and evanisheth, as the
stars disappear when the sun riseth, which seem something in the darkness.
The angels’ holiness, the heaven’s glory, is nothing to him, before whom
the nations are as nothing; so that it is all the wonder of the world,
that ever God stooped so far below himself, even to righteous Adam, as to
make such a covenant with him, to account him righteous in obedience.
“What is man that thou shouldst magnify him? When I look to the heavens,
and the sun, the work of thine hands, Lord, what is man?” What is innocent
man in his integrity, that thou shouldst magnify him, to give him a place
to stand before thee, magnify him to be a party-contractor with thy
glorious Majesty? Psalm viii. 4-6. But now, when this covenant is broken,
it is become impossible to a son of Adam ever to stand before God in his
perfection, for, how should man be righteous that is born of a woman? Job
xv. 14. Since we once sinned, how should our righteousness ever come in
remembrance? Therefore hath God chosen another way to cover man’s
wickedness and righteousness both, with his own righteousness, his Son’s
divine human righteousness, which is so suited in his infinite wisdom for
us. It is a man’s righteousness, that it may agree with men, and be a fit
garment to cover them; it is God’s righteousness, that it may be beautiful
in God’s eyes, for he seeth his own image in it. And it is not the created
inherent righteousness of saints glorified, that shall be their upper
garment, that shall be their heaven and glory-suit, so to speak. They will
not glory in this, but only in the Lamb’s righteousness for evermore.
Saint-holiness must have a covering above, for it cannot cover our
nakedness; and all the songs of those that follow the Lamb make mention of
his righteousness, even of his only. The Lamb is the light and sun of the
city, the Lamb is the temple of it; in a word, he is all that is beautiful
and glorious. Every saint hath put on the Lord Jesus, and is perfect
through his comeliness. At least, if the holiness of spirits of just men
made perfect be the glorious habit above; yet all the beauty and glory of
it is from Christ Jesus, whose image it is, and the Spirit whose work it
is. It shall be still true, all—all our righteousness, as ours, is filthy;
and all holiness, as it hath a relation to us, cannot please God. It must
be spotted before his pure eyes; but only it is accepted and clean, as it
is Christ’s and the Spirit’s, as it is his own garment put upon us, and
his own comeliness making us perfect. It is not so much the inherent
cleanness of the Saints’ robes that maketh them beautiful in his eyes, as
this, that they are washed in the blood of the Lamb, Rev. vii. 14.
Now, from all this we would speak a word to two sorts of you. _First_,
There is one great point of religion that is the principal and foundation
of all other, even free justification by faith in Jesus, without our own
righteousness; and the most part stumble here in the entry. It is the
greatest obstruction of souls coming to Christ Jesus, even the ignorant
and blind conceit and fancy that almost every man hath of himself and his
own performances; the world will not make many believe the half of the
evil of themselves that is spoken in the word. If you have a general
conviction of sinfulness and misery, yet you think to help it. If you sin,
you use to make amends, run to your prayers and repentance to give God a
recompence, and satisfy your own consciences. Speak now, is not this the
way you think to be saved? I shall do what I can, pray and mourn for sin;
and what I am not able to do, God must forgive; you will do all you are
able or can, and God’s mercy must come in to supply the want of your
righteousness. But this is to put a new piece of cloth in an old garment,
to make the rent worse. Many of you have no other ground of confidence in
the world, nothing to answer the challenge of conscience or satisfy
justice, but this,—I repent, I am sorry, I mourn, I shall amend, I resolve
never to do the like again. Now, then, from this ground we would declare
unto you, in the Lord’s name, you are yet unclean, both in persons and
actions unjustified, because you have no other covering but your own
duties and performances: and let these be examined, and weighed in the
balance of the sanctuary, and they will be found light. All your
righteousness, saith the Lord, is filthiness; you are unclean, you cannot
deny, both by birth and education,—you have often defiled yourselves with
sins, you must confess. Now, I ask you, How will you cover that
uncleanness and nakedness? How will you hide it from God’s eyes and your
own consciences? You know no way but this,—I will pray, I will repent and
amend. So then you cover yourself with prayer, with sorrow and tears, and
a resolution of amending. This, then, is all your covering and
ornament,—something done by you, as many will make the wings of two good
works stretch themselves out so far as to cover and hide a multitude of
offences between them. Therefore I declare, in the Lord Jesus his name,
unto you, whose conscience must go along in the acknowledgment and owning
of your case, that you have covered yourselves with your own
righteousness, that you have taken as filthy rags to cover your nakedness
and sin with, as your sins are, and so you have made an addition to your
uncleanness, you are more unclean by your prayers and repentance than
before; and so God is of more pure eyes than to look graciously on such as
you are. You have gone about to establish your own righteousness, and have
not known the righteousness of God, and so you have come short of it; you
are yet persons in a state of enmity,—God is your judge, you are rebels.
It concerns you much to heed this well, to judge of your own actions and
persons as God judgeth of them; for if God shall judge one way, and you
judge another way, you may be far mistaken in the end. If you have so good
an opinion of yourselves and your duties, that you can plead interest in
God for them, and absolve yourselves from such grounds; and if God have
not the same judgment, but rather think as evil of your prayers as of your
cursing, and abhor the thing that satisfieth you, will it not be dreadful
in the end? For his judgment shall stand, and you will succumb in
judgment, since you crossed God’s mind. Therefore we would have you
solidly drink in this principle of religion;—that man is so unclean, and
God so abhorreth him, that whatever he doth or can do, it cannot make him
righteous; that no good action can make him acceptable, and take away the
uncleanness of the evil actions; and that any sinful action taketh away
all the cleanness of the good actions. Once believe this,—if I should
sweat out my life in serving God, and never rise off my knees, if I should
give my body to the fire for the truth, if I should melt away in tears for
sin, all this is but filthy rags, and I can never be accepted of God for
all that, but the matter of my condemnation groweth,—if I justify myself
my own mouth proves me perverse: God needeth no more but my good deeds to
condemn me for, in all justice: and therefore it is a thing impossible,—I
will never put forth a hand, or open a mouth upon that account any more. I
will serve God, because it is my duty, but life I will not expect by my
service; when I have done all, it is wholly mercy that I am accepted, my
good works shall never come in remembrance; I resolve to be found, not
having my own righteousness. I will appear among the ungodly sinners, as
one that hath no righteousness, that I may be justified only by faith in
Jesus Christ. I say, drink in this truth, and let it settle in your
hearts, and then we would hear numbers cry, “O what shall I do to be
saved?”
Now, _Secondly_, As for you who have fled unto Christ’s righteousness
only, and have cast away your own as dung and dross, as filthy rags; as
you have done right in the point of justification, judge so likewise after
it. We would exhort you to judge so of your best actions that are the
fruits of the Spirit, judge so of them as you have a hand in them.
“All our righteousness.” Mark, Isaiah, a holy prophet, joineth himself in
with the multitude. And the truth is, the more holiness, the more humility
and self-abasing; for what is holiness, I pray you, but self-denial, the
abasing of the creature, and exalting of Christ Jesus? This is the cross
that the saints must all bear, “Deny yourself, and follow me.” Grace doth
not swell men above others; it is gifts, such as knowledge, that puffeth
up; charity or love puffeth not up. Men are naturally high-minded, for
pride was the first sin of Adam, and grace cometh to level men, to make
the high mountains valleys for Christ’s chariot; it maketh men stoop low
to enter the door of the kingdom. Therefore, if you have attained any
measure beyond others, if you would prove it real grace and holiness, do
not exalt yourselves above others, be not high-minded, come down and sit
among the ungodly, among the unclean, and let not grace given diminish the
low estimation of yourself in yourself. There is a growing that is but a
fancy, and men’s conceit; when men grow above ordinances, above other
Christians, and can see none or few Christians but themselves, such a
growth is not real. It is but fancy, it is but swelling and wind, and must
be pricked to let it out. A holy prophet came in among an unclean people;
he did not say, “Stand by, I am holier than thou.” Such a man as can find
no Christian about him, even though to the judgment of all others, they
seek God more than he, such a man hath not real solid grace,—his holiness
is profane holiness, and proud holiness; for true holiness is humble
holiness, and in honour preferreth others.
There is a great fault among those who have fled to Christ’s righteousness
in justification, that they use to come full from duties, as a stomach
from a honeycomb. Ofttimes we make our liberty and access to God the
ground of our acceptation; and according to the ebbings and flowings of
our inherent righteousness, so doth the faith and confidence of
justification ebb and flow. Christians, this ought not to be; in so doing,
you make your own righteousness your righteousness before God; for when
the unsatisfaction in the point of duty maketh you question your interest
so often, is not the satisfaction of your minds in duties made the ground
of your pleading interest? Give you liberty and access, you can believe
anything; remove it, and you can believe nothing. Certainly this is a
sandy foundation,—you ought to build nothing on performances, you should
be as vile in your own eyes, and think your nakedness as open, when you
come nearest God, when you have most liveliness, as when he hideth his
face, and duty withereth. Will filthy rags be your ornament? No,
Christians. Be more acquainted with the unspotted righteousness of the
immaculate Lamb of God, and find as great necessity of covering your
cleanest duties with it, as your foulest faults, and thus shall you be
kept still humble and vile in your own eyes, and have continual employment
for Christ Jesus. Your best estate should not puff you up, and your worst
estate should not cast you down; therefore be much in the search of the
filthiness of your holy actions. This were a spiritual study, a noble
discovery to unbowel your duties, to divide them, and to give unto God
what is God’s, and take unto yourselves what is your own. The discovery of
filthiness in them needeth not hinder his praise; and the discovery of
grace in them needeth not mar your shame. God hath most glory when we have
most shame; these two grow in just proportion,—so much is taken from God
as is given to the creature.
_Thirdly_, We would also press you from this ground to long much to be
clothed upon with immortality, to put off the filthy rags of time and
earth-righteousness, and to be clothed upon with the white robes of the
righteousness of the saints. As you would dwell near the fountain here,
and be still washing your garments, and offering all your sacrifices in
him who sanctifieth all, so would you pant and thirst for this spotless
garment of glory. Glory is nothing but perfect holiness, holiness washen
and made clean in the Lamb’s blood. Your rags are for the prison and for
sojourning; when you come to your Father’s house, your raiment shall be
changed. Therefore, Christians, every one of you aspire higher. Sit not
down in attainments; forget what is behind, and press forward. Let perfect
holiness be in your eye and purpose, sit not behind it. All our
time-duties have much filthiness,—long for the pure stream that waters the
city above. Grace is not in its native place, it is corrupted and mixed
here: heaven is the own element of it, and there is grace without mixture.
Undervalue all your performances, till you be above, where that which is
in part shall be done away, where no unclean thing entereth.
_Fourthly_, This likewise holdeth out to you a continual necessity of
washing. You must take up house beside the fountain opened in the house of
David; and never look on any piece of inherent righteousness, but see a
necessity of dipping it in the Lamb’s blood. And therefore should you pray
always in Christ’s name, that the prayer which, of itself, would be cast
as dung on our face, may have a sweet savour from him. Cover your holiness
with Christ’s righteousness, and make mention of it only.
Sermon XVII.
Isaiah lxiv. 6.—“And we all do fade as a leaf, and our iniquities,
like the wind, have taken us away.”
Here they join the punishment with the deserving cause, their uncleanness
and their iniquities, and so take it upon them, and subscribe to the
righteousness of God’s dealing.
We would say this much in general—_First_, Nobody needeth to quarrel God
for his dealing. He will always be justified when he is judged. If the
Lord deal more sharply with you than with others, you may judge there is a
difference between your condition and theirs, as well as in the Lord’s
dispensation, even as this people do, ver. 5, 6. It is a strange saying,
Lam. iii. 33. The Lord “doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the
children of men.” That is, as we conceive, the Lord hath not such pleasure
in trampling on men, as he might do on the dust of his feet. Though he be
absolute sovereign Lord of the creature, and men be but as the dust of his
feet, and he may do with his own what he pleaseth, and none ask, what dost
thou? yet the Lord useth not to walk according to his own absoluteness,—he
hath another ordinary rule whereby he worketh, a rule of justice and
equity. Especially in the punishing of men, he useth not to afflict men
for his pleasure, as tyrants use to destroy their people. The Lord
exerciseth his sovereignty another way, and if he be absolute and
unlimited in any thing, it is in showing mercy on men. But in judgment,
there may be still some reason gotten for it in the creature beside the
will of God; so that, to speak with reverence of his majesty, strokes are
often drawn out of his hands. He getteth so much provocation ere he
strike, and holdeth off so long,—threateneth, and giveth warning thus
before strokes, as if it were against his will to lay on, as if his heart
were broken with us.
_Secondly_, If men knew themselves and their own sinfulness, they would
not challenge God with unrighteousness, but put their mouth in the dust,
and keep silence. And it is from this ground, that this people do not
charge God. Sin is of such infinite desert and demerit, because against
infinite majesty, that God cannot go beyond it in punishment; and
therefore Jeremiah, when he is wading out of the deep waters of sore
temptation and sad discouragement, pitcheth and casteth anchor at this
solid ground, “It is of the Lord’s mercy that we are not consumed,” Lam.
iii. 22. What! do I mean thus to charge God, as if he dealt rigorously?
No, no: It is his mercy that a remnant is left,—our strokes are not pure
justice, our cup is mixed, mercy is the greatest part. Whatever is behind
utter destruction, whatever is below the desert of sin, which is hell and
damnation, all this must be reckoned up to mercy. That I am yet alive, and
so may have hope, this is mercy, “For why should a living man complain?”
ver. 39. That a rod is come to awake us out of security, this is mercy,
for we might have slept to death. And this wholesome counsel got Job of
his friends,—to stay his murmuring and grudging at God’s dispensations,
Job. xi. 6. Why dost thou complain, Job? Know but thy sins, and there
shall be no room for complaint. Look but unto God’s secrets of wisdom, and
his law, and see it is double to what you have known,—your obligation is
infinitely more than you thought upon, and then how great and numberless
must iniquities be? “Know, therefore,” saith Zophar, “God exacteth of thee
less than thine iniquities deserve.” God exacteth not according to law, he
craveth not according to the obligation, but bids write down fifty in his
bill of affliction, when an hundred are written in our bill of deserving.
So then, complain not,—it is mercy that life is saved. Are you men, and
living men? Wonder at this, and wonder not that you are not wealthy, are
not honourable, seeing you are sinners: all that came on Jerusalem maketh
not Ezra think God out of bounds, chap. ix. 13. As we are less than the
least of God’s mercies, and all our goodness deserveth none of them, so is
the least sin greater than the greatest of all his judgments, and
deserveth still more. Nay, if there were no more but original corruption
common to men, and the filthiness that accompanieth men’s good actions,
yet is God righteous in punishing severely, and this people acknowledge it
so. You use to inquire what sin hath such a man done, when so terrible
judgments come on? Nay, inquire no more;—he is a sinner, and it is mercy
there is not more, and it is strange mercy that it is not so with you
also. You use to speak foolishly when God’s hand is upon you: I hope I
have my punishment here, I hope to suffer here for my sins. Poor souls, if
God make you suffer for sins, it will be another matter. Though now your
punishment be above your strength and patience, yet it is below your sin.
As sin hath all evil in it, so must hell have all punishment in it. The
torment of the gravel, racking with the stone, and such like, are but play
to hell,—these are but drops of that ocean that you must drink out, and
you shall go out of one hell into a worse; eternity is the measure of its
continuance, and the degrees of itself are answerable to its duration.
There is much impatience even among God’s children under the rod, you vex
and torment yourselves, and do well to be angry. Any piece of thwarting
dispensation, that goes cross to your humour and inclination, imbitters
your spirit against God and maketh you go cross to his providence; how
often do your hearts say, Why am I thus? What aileth the Lord at me? But,
Christians, learn to study your own deservings, and stop your mouth with
that, that you may not speak against heaven. If you knew sin well, you
would not wonder at judgments, you would rather wonder that you are out of
hell. Know what right God hath over you, and how little use he maketh of
it against you. When you repine at a little, shall it not be righteousness
with God to exact more, and let you know your deserving better? He that
thinketh it rigour in God to exact fifty, it is justice that God crave an
hundred. If the law require forty stripes, and he give but one, will you
not rather commend and proclaim his clemency, than speak of his cruelty?
Wonder that God hath spared us so long. Sin is come to great maturity. As
pride is said to blossom and bud into a rod, so all sins are blossomed and
budded into the very harvest, that the sickle may be put in. If we should
have cities desolate, and our land consumed, if we should take up
Jeremiah’s lamentation, and our case be made parallel to theirs, we have
then been punished less than our iniquities deserved.
There are some godless people so black mouthed as to speak against heaven
when God correcteth them, they follow the counsel of Job’s wife, curse God
and die. If God but touch them a little in that which is dearest unto
them, they kick against the pricks, and run hard heads with God. As we
have known some foolish women, when their only child hath been removed,
blaspheme, saying, What can God do more to me?—let him do what he can. O
madness and wickedness of men! Cannot God do more when he casteth them
into hell? Thou shalt acknowledge that it is more. Some have left off to
seek God and turned profane, because of the Lord’s correction but you
should know that all that is here is but arles.(309) If God had done his
worst, you might think yourselves out of his common, nay, but he hath yet
more to do, the full sum is to be paid. It were therefore wisdom yet to
make supplication to thy judge.
But, _Thirdly_, Sins and iniquities have a great influence in the decay of
nations and persons, and change of their outward condition, when it is
joined with the wind of God’s displeasure. The calamity of this people is
set down in excellent terms, alluding to a tree in the fall of the leaf.
We, saith he, were once in our land as a green tree busked round about
with leaves and fruit; our church and state was in a flourishing
condition, at least nothing was wanting to make outward splendour and
glory. We were immovable in our own land, as David said in his prosperity,
“I shall never be moved,” so did we dream of eternity in earthly Canaan.
But now Lord, we are like a tree in the fall of the leaf, sin hath
obstructed the influence of heaven, hath drawn away the sap of thy
presence from among us, so that we did fade as a leaf before its fall, we
were prepared so by our sins for judgment,—visible draughts and
prognostics of it were to be read upon the condition and frame of all
spirits and people, and then did our iniquities raise the storm of thy
indignation, and that, like a whirlwind, hath blown the withering leaves
off the tree, hath driven us out of our own land, and scattered us among
strangers. Sin and uncleanness and the filthiness of our righteousness
prepared us for the storm, made us light matter that could resist no
judgment, made us matter combustible, and then iniquities, and sin rising
up to iniquities, coming to such a degree, hath accomplished the judgment,
put fire among us, made us as the birk in Yule even.(310)
_First_, It is familiar in the Scripture that people in a prosperous
condition are compared unto a green tree flourishing, Psal. xxxvii. 35.
The wicked’s prospering is like a green bay tree spreading himself in
power, spreading out his arms, as it were, over more lands to conquer
them, over more people, to subject them. And this is often the temptation
of the godly, and so doth the Lord himself witness of this people, Jer.
xi. 16, “I have called thy name a green olive tree, fair and of goodly
fruit.” This was once their name, though it be now changed. Now they are
called a fading withering tree without both leaves and fruit. Now their
place doth not so much as know them, they are removed as in a moment,
Psal. xxxvii. 36. And this comparison giveth us to understand something
of the nature of human glory and pomp. The fairest and most beautiful
excellency in the world, the prosperity of nations and people, is but like
the glory of a tree in the spring or summer. Yea, the Scripture useth to
undervalue it more than so and the voice commandeth to cry, (Isa. xl. 6,
7, 8,) “All flesh is grass and the goodliness thereof as the flower of the
field: the one withereth, and the other fadeth, because the Spirit of the
Lord bloweth upon it.” A tree hath some stability in it, but the flower of
the field is but of a month or a week’s standing, nay, of one day’s
standing, for in the morning the grass is green, and the sun scorcheth it
ere night, so that one sun’s course shall see it both growing green and
fading. So is the goodliness, the very perfection, the quintessence, so to
speak, and the abstract of creatures’ perfections. Outward accommodation
in a world is as fading a thing as the flower is, as smoke is, it is so
vanishing that it bides but a puff of his breath to blow it to nothing.
Job hath a strange expression, “Thou lookest upon me, and I am not,” Job
vii. 8. The Lord needeth no more but stare on the most durable creature,
and look it not only out of countenance, but also look it into its first
nothing—look it out of glory, out of being; and therefore you should not
trust in those uncertain things, that can take wings and leave you. When
you have accommodation outwardly to your mind do not build your nest in
it; these leaves of prosperity will not cover you always, there is a time
when they will fall. Nations have their winter and their summer, persons
have them likewise, as these must change in nature, so must they do in
their lot. Heaven only is one day, one spring perpetually blossoming and
bringing forth fruit. There is the tree of life that bringeth forth fruit
every month, that hath both spring and harvest all the year over.
Christians, sit not down under the green tree of worldly prosperity, if
you do, the leaves will come down about you, the gourd you trust in may be
eaten up in a night, your winter will come on so as you shall forget the
former days as if they had never been. We desire you to be armed for
changes; are not matters in the kingdom still going about? All things are
subject to revolution and change, and every year hath its own summer and
winter, so hath it pleased the Lord to set the one over against the other,
that man might find nothing after him, Eccl. vii. 14. Therefore we would
have you cast your accounts so as the former days of darkness may return,
and the land be covered with mourning clothes.
But would you know what is the original of the creatures’ vanity, what is
the moth that eats up the glory and goodliness of creatures’ enjoyments?
Here it is—sin and iniquities. It was sin that first subjected the
creation to vanity, Rom. viii. 19, 20. This inferior world was to have
been a durable house for an immortal soul, but sin made man mortal, and
the world corruptible, and from this proceed all the tempests and
disorders that seem to be in the creation. It is this still—it is sin that
raiseth the storm of the Lord’s wrath, which bloweth away the withered
leaves of men’s enjoyments. Sin drieth up all the sap and sweetness of the
creature comforts,—it maketh the leaves of the tree wither, drives the sap
away to the root, hindereth the influence of God’s blessing to come
through the veins of worldly prosperity. For what is the virtue and sap of
creatures? It is even God’s blessing, and therefore the bread nourisheth
not, but the word and command of God, Matt. iv. 4. That is a right unto
the creatures by Jesus Christ, when possession of them is entered into by
prayer and thanksgiving, for all right is sanctified by these, and it is
the iniquities of men that separate between God and them, Isa. lix. 2. And
when God is separated and divided from enjoyments, they must needs be
empty shells and husks, no kernel in them, for God “filleth all in all,”
is all in all, and remove him, and you have nothing—your meat and drink is
no blessing, your table is a snare, your pleasures and laughter have
sadness in them. At least they are like the vanishing blaze of thorns
under a pot, and therefore, when God is angry for sin, men’s beauty
consumeth as before the moth, Psalm xxxix. 11. When God beginneth to show
himself terrible, because of sin, poor man, though of late spreading his
boughs out, yet all falleth, and like ice melteth as before the sun, which
just now seemed as solid as stone. O but David was sensible of this and
could speak from much experience, Psal. xxxii. 3, 4. The anger of the Lord
did eat him up, and dried his moisture. It might be read in his
countenance,—all the world could not content him, all the showers of
creatures’ dropping fatness could not keep sap in him. God’s displeasure
scorcheth so, nay, is within him, that no hiding-place is to be found in
the world, no shadow of a rock among all the creatures in such a weary
land. Moses and the people knew this well, Psal. xc. 5-9. The Lord’s
displeasure carried them away, as a flood coming down carrieth all
headlong with it, it scorched them and made them wither as grass. When God
setteth iniquities before him, and that which is the soul’s secret,
beginneth to imprint it in visible characters on the rod, and writeth his
sin on his punishment, then no wonder that days be spent in vanity and
grief, since they are passed over in his wrath, Job xiii. 25. Then doth a
soul loathe its dainty meat, and then doth the ox low over his fodder.
Meat is laid before him, and he cannot touch it, because of the terrors of
the Almighty, and that which before he would not once touch, would not
enter into terms of communing with, as the Lord’s threatenings, he must
now sit down and eat them up as his meat, how sorrowful soever, Job vi.
4-7.
But, _secondly_, when sin hath prepared a man for judgment, then, if
iniquity be added to sin, this raiseth the storm, and kindleth the fire to
consume the combustible matter. When sin hath given many blows, by
preparatory corrections at the root of a man’s pleasure and credit, it
will at length bring on a fatal stroke that shall drive the tree to the
ground. There are some preparatory judgments, and some consummatory, some
wither the leaf, and some blow it quite off, some make men like the
harvest, ripe to put the sickle of judgment into it. The corruption of a
land, the universality of it, and formality in worshipping of God,
ripeneth a land for the harvest of judgment,—exposeth it to any
storm,—leaveth it open to the Lord’s wrath, so that there is nothing to
hold his hand and keep off the stroke, but when the wind ariseth, and
iniquities have made it tempestuous, then who may stand? It will sweep
away nations and people as a flood, and make their place not to know them,
so that there shall be neither leaf nor branch left. There is often a
great calm with great provocations, and iniquities cry, “Peace, peace!”
But when once the cry of it is gone up to heaven, and hath engaged God’s
anger against a people or person, then it raiseth a whirlwind that taketh
all away. Now, all this belongeth to you,—we told you the acknowledgment
of sin was yours already, and a wonder it is, that the complaint is not
ours also. Always this ought to be an admonition and example to us, on
whom the ends of the world are fallen. Therefore we would declare this
unto you, that sin and iniquities have judgment in the tail. Now you sit
at peace, every one in his own dwelling, and spread forth your branches,
but is there not much uncleanness among you? We would have you trouble
your carnal peace and security, trouble your ease with thoughts of this.
And we have ground to give this warning, because, if there were no more
but the iniquity of our holy things—the formality of our service—the
commonness of spirit in worship, this might be enough to raise the storm.
You know not for what reasons to be afraid of judgment. Look but on
original corruption, look on the defilement of your religious actions, and
then find ground sufficient of fading away. Though now you sit still, and
seem to be so settled, as you would never be moved, you dream of an
eternity here—you cleave in your hearts to your houses and lands—you stick
as fast to the world, and will not part with it, as a leaf to a tree, yet
behold the wind of the Lord may arise, that shall drive you away; take
your soul from these things, and then whose shall they be? If you will not
fear temporal judgments, yet I pray you fear eternal—fear hell. May not
the Lord shake you off this tree of time, and take you out of the land of
the living, to receive your portion? There is not only an universal
deadness of spirit on the land, but a profane spirit,—iniquities,
abominable sins, abound. Every congregation is overgrown with
scandals,(311) and for you, none may more justly complain. We are all
unclean, sin is not in corners but men declare their sin as Sodom, sin is
come to the maturity—defection and apostacy(312) is the temper of all
spirits, and, above all, the general contempt and slighting of this
glorious gospel, is the iniquity of Scotland,(313) so that we wonder that
the withered leaves yet stick to, that the storm is not yet raised, and we
blown away. Now, you are like stones—your hearts as adamants, and cannot
be moved with his threatening, the voice of the Lord’s word doth not once
move you. You sin and are not afraid, nay, but when God’s anger shall join
with iniquity, and the voice of his rod and displeasure roar, this shall
make the mountains to tremble, the rocks to move, and how much more shall
it drive away a leaf? You seem now mountains, but when God shall plead,
you shall be like the chaff driven to and fro. O how easy a matter shall
it be to God to blow a man out of his dwelling place! Sin hath prepared
you for it, he needeth no more but blow by his Spirit, or look upon you,
and you will not be. You who are now lofty and proud, and maintain
yourselves against the word, when you come to reckon with God, and he
entereth into judgment, you shall not stand—you will consume as before the
moth; your hearts will fail you—“who may abide the day of his coming?” It
will be so terrible, and so much the more terrible, that you never dreamed
of it. If the example of this people will not move you, do but cast your
eyes on Ireland,(314) who all do fade as a leaf, and their iniquities have
taken them away out of their own land. Shall not the seeing of the eye,
nor the hearing of the ear teach you? What security do you promise to
yourselves? Have not we sinned as much as they? Were not they his people
as well as we? Certainly, since God waiteth longer on you, the stroke must
be the greater: provoked patience must turn fury. If you would then
prevent this people’s complaint, go about such a serious acknowledgment of
your sins. “Search your ways, and turn again to the Lord.” And let not
every man sit down in a general notion of sin, but unbowel it until you
see uncleanness, go up to the fountain head, original corruption, go down
to all the streams, even the iniquity of holy things. Let every man be
particular in the search of his own provocations personal, and every one
be public in the general sins of the land, that you may confess out of
knowledge and sense, “We are all unclean,” &c.
Sermon XVIII.
Isaiah lxiv. 7.—“And there is none that calleth upon thy name,
that stirreth up himself to take hold on thee,” &c.
They go on in the confession of their sins. Many a man hath soon done with
that a general notion of sin is the highest advancement in repentance that
many attain to. You may see here sin and judgment mixed in thorough
other(315) in their complaint. They do not so fix their eyes upon their
desolate estate of captivity, as to forget their provocations. Many a man
would spend more affection, and be more pathetic in the expression of his
misery, when it is pungent, nor he can do when he speaketh of his sins. We
would observe, from the nature of this confession, something to be a
pattern of your repentance. And it is this. When the Spirit convinceth,
and men are serious in repentance, then the soul is more searching, more
universal, more particular in acknowledgment of sins. These are characters
of the Spirit’s work.
_First_, The Spirit discovereth unto men, not only sin, but the
loathsomeness of sin, its heinous nature, how offensive it is to God’s
holy eye. Many of you know abundance of evil deeds, and call them sins,
but you have never taken up sin’s ugly face, never seen it in the glass of
the holy law, uncleanness itself, because you do not abhor yourselves.
Poor and low thoughts of God make mean and shallow thoughts of sin. You
should be as Job, vile, chap. xl. 4, and abhor yourselves in dust and
ashes, chap. xlii. 6. As God’s holiness grew great in your eyes, sins
uncleanness would grow proportionably, Isa. vi. 3, 5. And here your
repentance halteth in the very entry.
But, _secondly_, The Spirit discovereth not only the uncleanness of men’s
natures, and leadeth them up to original corruption, but the Spirit also
leadeth men along all the streams, not only those that break out, but
those which go under ground, and have a more secret and subtile
conveyance. It concludeth not only open breaches of the command under
filthiness, but also all a man’s own righteousness, though never so
refined, it concludeth it also a defiled garment, so that the soul can
look no where but see sin and uncleanness in its ornaments and duties. And
thus it appeareth before God without such a covering, openeth up its soul,
hideth not sin with the covering of duties, but seeth a necessity of
another covering for all. Now, therefore, let the most part of you
conclude, that you have never yet gotten your eyes open to see sin or
confess it, because when you sit down to count your sins, there are many
things that you call not sin,—you use not to reckon your praying and
repentance among sins. Nay, because you have so much confidence in your
repentance and confession, you have never repented. You must see a
necessity of a covering of Christ’s righteousness above all, faith in
Jesus must cover repentance and itself both, with the glorious object of
it. But, alas! how soon are many at an end of confession! some particular
gross actions may come in remembrance, but no more. Sum up all your
confessions, they have never yet pitched on the thousandth part of your
guiltiness, no, not in kinds, let be in number.
But, _thirdly_, The spirit convinceth spiritually and particularly both,
it convinceth of spiritual sins, as we last said, of the iniquity of holy
things, and especially of the most substantial duties, faith and prayer,
John xvi. 8, 9. There are not many of you have come this length, to see
your want of prayer. No, your own words do witness against you, for you
use to say, I pray day and night, I believe in God with all my heart. Now
therefore, out of your own mouth shall you be condemned. When the Spirit
convinceth you of sin, you will see no faith, no prayer at the first
opening of the eyes. But I add, there is no true confession but it is
particular: the Spirit useth not to bewilder men’s spirits in a general
notion only, and a wide field of unknown sins. And such are many of your
convictions. You mourn for sin, as you say, and yet you cannot condescend
on a particular that burdeneth your conscience; you grant you have many
sins, but sit down to count them, and there is a short count of them. Now,
do you not reflect back upon former humiliations in public, and former
acknowledgments of sins in private? Do you not yet return upon your own
hearts to lay home this sad challenge, I have never repented, I do not yet
repent? Must not all your solemn approaches be iniquity and abomination,
while your souls are not afflicted for sin, while you can see so few sins?
The fasting days of Scotland will be numbered in the roll of the greatest
provocations, because there is no real and spiritual conviction of sin
among us, custom hath now taken away the solemnity, and there remaineth
nothing but the very name. Is this the fast that the Lord chooseth? No,
believe it, this shall add to your provocation, and rather hasten
lingering judgment than keep it off. We would beseech you this day, pray
for pardon of former abused fasts. If you had no more to mourn for, this
might spend the day and our spirits both, and exhaust all our present
supplications—even the wall of partition that stands between God and
Scotland, which all our former solemn humiliations hath built up, a great
deal higher than other sins could reach.
“There is none that calleth upon thy name.” Did not this people make many
prayers (Isa. i. 15), before the captivity? And did they not cry, which
noteth some fervency in it, and fast, a little before it in Jeremiah’s
time, (chap. xi. 11, and xiv. 12,) and in the time of it, Ezek. vii. 18,
Mic. iii. 4, Zech. vii. 3? How, then, is it that the prophet, now on the
watch tower, looking round about him to take up the people’s condition,
and being led by the Spirit so far as to the case of the captives in
Babel, can find no prayer, no calling? And was not Daniel so too? Dan. ix.
13. Lo, then, here is the construction that the Spirit of God putteth on
many prayers and fastings in a land, “There is none calleth on thy name,”
there is none that prayeth faithfully and fervently, few to count upon
that prayeth any. It may be there are many public prayers, but who prayeth
in secret, and mourneth to God alone? There are many prayers, but the
inscription is, “To the unknown God,” to a nameless God; your praying is
not a calling on his name, as a known God and revealed in the word.
This, then, we would say unto you, that there may be many prayers in your
account, and none in God’s. There are many prayers of men that God
counteth no more of than the howling of a dog.
_First_, The cry of men’s practices is often louder than their prayers,
and goeth up to heaven, that the cry of prayer cannot be heard. When men’s
conversation is flat contrary to their supplications, supplication is no
calling on his name, but charming rather. Sodom’s abominations had a cry
up to God, Gen. xviii. 21. So Abel’s blood had a cry for vengeance, which
Cain’s prayers could not outcry. Thus the Lord would not hear many
prayers, Isa. i. 15, because hands and practices were polluted. You that
know no worship of God, but in such a solemn duty, your religion is summed
up and confined within the limits of temple worship, family exercise, and
prayer, certainly the rest of your conversation must speak more. God will
not hear but such as worship him and do his will, John iv. 23. Your prayer
is a dark parable, if your conversation expone(316) it not. This I speak
for this end, to put many of you out of your false ground of confidence.
You have nothing but your prayers to trust unto, and for your
conversation, you never go about it effectually to reform it, but go on in
that which you pray against. We declare unto you the truth, your prayers
are abomination, Prov. xxviii. 9. The wicked may have prayers, and
therefore think not to please God and flatter him with your mouths, when
your conversation is rebellion. Since you hear not him in his commands,
God will not hear you in your petitions, Prov. i. 24, 28. You stopped your
ear at his reproof, God will stop his ear at your request. If you will go
to heaven by your own righteousness, I pray you follow more after it, make
the garment more to cover your nakedness: the skirt of a duty is not
sufficient.
_Secondly_, When iniquity is regarded in the heart, and idols set up in
God’s place, God will not own such a worship, but sendeth a man to the
idols he serveth, Psal. lxvi. 18; Ezek. xiv. 9, 4. Do you not often pray
to God against a corruption, when your heart cleaveth unto it, and what
your mouth saith, your heart contradicteth? Light and conscience often
extort a confession of beloved sins, while the temper of the heart hath
this language, Lord, grant not my request. And therefore, if there be a
prayer for pardon of guilt, yet there is no thorough resolution to quit
the sin; and as long as a soul is not resolved to quit the sin, there can
be no ingenuous confession of it, and no prayer for removing the guilt can
be heard. You cannot employ Christ in his office of mediatorship as a
Priest to intercede and offer sacrifice for sin, unless you as sincerely
employ him as a Sanctifier and Redeemer; and therefore prayer that
separateth Christ’s offices, and calleth not on whole Christ, calleth not
on his name, for his name is Lord Jesus Christ. How can the Lord be
inquired of by such a one who cometh to mock him, putteth up an idol in
the heart, and yet prayeth against it, or some other sin, while he is not
resolved to quit it? Shall God be resolute to help, when we are not
earnest in seeking it? No wonder God answer you according to the idol; no
wonder you be given up to serve idols, and your sin grow upon you as a
plague for your hypocrisy. When you engage your heart too much to any
creature, and come to pray and inquire of the Lord in your necessity,
shall it not be righteousness with him, to send you to your god? “When
thou criest, let thy companies deliver thee,” Isa. lvii. 13. O man, cry
unto thy bosom-idol, and let it help thee, since thou trustest to it, and
spendest thy heart upon it! Deut. xxxii. 37, 38, “Where is the God that
drank the wine of your offerings, and did eat the fat of your sacrifices?”
Where is the creature that you have made your heart an altar to, to send
up the flames of your choicest thoughts and affections to it? Let this
rise up, and help you now, saith the Lord. Therefore we exhort you, if you
would have your prayers a delight, be upright in the thing you seek, and
see that you entertain no known sin, give it no heart-allowance.
_Thirdly_, There are many prayers not heard, not known, because the mouth
out-crieth the heart. It is the sacrifice of the contrite heart that God
despiseth not. The prayers of this people were such, (Isa. xxix. 13,)—they
drew near with the mouth, but the heart was far away. It is worship in
spirit and truth that God loveth, John iv. 23. Since prayer is a communion
of God with the creature, a meeting of one with God, and speaking face to
face, God, who is a Spirit and immortal, must have a spirit to meet with,
a soul to speak to him. Now, do you not find your hearts gadding abroad
even in duty? Is it not most about your corns and lands in the time of
solemn worship? Therefore God getteth no more but a carcase to keep
communion with: he may have as much fellowship with the stones of the
wall, and timber of the house, as he can have with your ears and mouths,
while you remove your hearts to attend other things. And I would say
more,—if your mind be present, yet your heart is gone; sometimes, yea
often, both are gone abroad. Sometimes the mind and thought stayeth, but
the affection and heart is not with it, and so the mind’s residence is not
constant. Your thought may come in as a wayfaring man, but tarrieth not
all night, dwelleth not. Now speak to it, even Christians, may not your
prayers often have a contrary interpretation to what they pretend? You
pray so coldrifely(317) and formally, as God will interpret, you have no
mind to it: we ask as we seemed indifferent whether our petition be
granted or not. Should the Lord be affected with your petitions, when you
yourselves are not affected much? Should his bowels of zeal sound within
him, when yours are silent? It is fervent prayer availeth much, James v.
16. A heart sent out with the petition, and gone up to heaven, cannot but
bring back an answer. If prayer carry not the seal of the heart and soul
in it, God cannot own it, or send it back with his seal of acceptation.
_Fourthly_, Many prayers are not calling on God’s name; and no wonder that
when people pray, yet the Spirit says, “None calleth on thy name;” for
prayer is made, as to an unknown God, and God is not taken up according to
his “name,” which are his glorious attributes, whereby he manifesteth
himself in his word. To call on God’s name, is so to pray to God as to
take him up as he hath revealed himself. And what is the Lord’s name? Hear
himself speak to Moses, Exod. xxxiii. 19, and xxxiv. 6, 7, “The Lord, the
Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness
and truth. Keeping mercy for thousands: forgiving iniquity, and
transgression, and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty.” Now,
to call on this name is for the soul, in prayer, to have a suitable stamp
on it: every attribute of God taking deep impression in the heart, and so
God’s name to be written on the very petitions; and shortly, we may say,
the spirit should have the impression of God’s greatness and majesty, of
his goodness and mercy, of his terribleness and justice. This is the order
in which God proclaimeth his name. In the entry, the supplicant should
behold the glorious sovereignty and infinite distance between God and the
creature, that he may have the stamp of reverence and abasement upon his
spirit, and may speak out of the dust, as it becometh the dust of the
balance and footstool to do to him who sitteth on the circle of the heaven
as his throne. And this I must say, there is little religion and godliness
among us, because every man is ignorant of God. Even God’s children do
more study themselves, and their condition, than God’s greatness and
absoluteness. Who searches God’s infiniteness in his word and works till
he behold a wonder, and be drowned in a mystery? O but the saints of old
did take up God at a greater distance from the creatures; they waded far
into this boundless ocean of God’s Majesty, till they were over head and
ears, and were forced to cry out, “Who can find out the Almighty to
perfection?” All these are but parts of him, his back-parts. There is more
real divinity and knowledge of God in one of Job’s friends’ discourses,
one of David’s prayers, than now in twenty sermons of gracious men, or
many prayers or conferences of saints. But withal you must study his
goodness and mercy, and this maketh up the most part of his name. The
definition of God hath most of this, so that it may be said truly, that
mercy is his delight. Mercy, as it were, swelleth over the rest: God were
not accessible, unless mercy did temper it. Behold then greatness to
humble, and goodness to make bold, that you may have access. As greatness
should leave the stamp of reverence on your petitions, so should mercy and
goodness imprint them with faith and confidence; and that the rather,
because as Christ is said to be the Father’s face, and the image of his
person, (2 Cor. iv. 6. and Heb. i. 3,) so may he be called the Father’s
name, and so doth God himself call him, Exod. xxiii. 20, 21, The angel
that went before them in the wilderness, whose voice they ought to obey,
his “name is in him;” and this angel is Christ Jesus, Acts vii. 37, 38. So
then Christ Jesus is God’s name. God, as he revealeth himself in the word,
is “God in Christ reconciling the world unto himself,” 2 Cor. v. 19. And
therefore, Christians, you ought to pray always in Christ’s name, and this
is to call on his name. Not only encourage yourselves to come to God,
because of a mediator, because he is God in Christ, but also offer up all
your prayers in the name of Jesus, that his name called on them may
sanctify them, otherwise your affectionate prayers cannot be acceptable to
God, for he loveth nothing but what cometh through the Son. Prayer must
have an evil savour, when it is not put in the golden censer that this
angel hath to offer up incense with the prayers of the saints. And
likewise you would know God’s justice and wrath, that you may serve in
fear and trembling: and when trembling is joined with the rejoicing of
faith, this is acceptable service. You ought to fear to offend his
holiness, while you are before him. Let God’s terribleness have a deep
impression on your spirit, both to make sin bitter, and to make mercy more
sweet. Thus should prayer ascend with the seal of God’s attributes, and
then it is a calling on his name. Now, is there any calling on his name
among us? Who maketh it his study to take up God in his glorious names?
Therefore you call not on a known God, and cannot name him. Now, all of
you take this rule to judge your prayers by. Think you not that you make
many prayers? You both think it and say it, as you use to say, I pray both
day and night. Nay, but count after this rule, and there will be found few
prayers in Scotland, albeit you reckon up both private and public. Once
scrape out of the count the prayers of the profane and scandalous, whose
practice defileth their prayers; and again, blot out the prayers of men’s
tongues and mouths when hearts are absent, and again, set aside the
formal, dwyning,(318) coldrife, indifferent supplications of saints, and
the prayers that carry no seal of God’s name and attributes on them,
prayers made to an unknown God, and will you find many behind? No,
certainly,—any of you may take up the complaint in behalf of the land,
“There is none that calleth on thy name,” or few to count upon. You may
say so of yourselves, if you judge thus,—I have almost never prayed, God
hath never heard my voice; and you may say so of the land. This would be a
well-spent day, if this were but our exercise, to find out the sins of our
duties in former humiliations; if the Spirit did so convince you as to
blot out of the roll of fasts all the former. If you come this length, as
to be convinced solidly that you have never yet prayed and mourned for
sin,—I have lived thus long, and been babbling all this while, I have
never once spoken to God, but worshipped I know not what, fancied a God
like myself, that would be as soon pleased with me as I was with
myself,—if the Lord wrought thus on your hearts, to put you off your own
righteousness, you should have more advantage in this, than in all your
sabbaths and fasts hitherto.
Although the Lord’s hand be upon them, and they “fade as a leaf,” and are
driven into another land, yet none calleth on his name. This maketh the
complaint more lamentable, and no doubt is looked upon as a dreadful sign
and token of God’s displeasure, and of sorer strokes. Daniel, an eye
witness, confirmeth this foretold truth, chap. ix. 13, “All this is come
upon us, yet have we not made our prayers to the Lord our God.” Well may
the Lord make a supposition and doubt of it, Lev. xxvi. 40, 41. After so
many plagues are come on, seven added to seven, and again seven times
more, and yet they will not be humbled, and when it is even at the door
next to utter destruction and consumption, he addeth, “If then their
uncircumcised hearts be humbled, and they take with the punishment of
sin,” &c. We need ask no reason of this, for “bray a fool in a mortar, his
folly will not depart from him,” Prov. xxvii. 22. Poor foolish man is a
foolish man, folly is born with him, folly is his name, and so is he. He
hath not so much wisdom as to “hear the voice of the rod, and him that
appointeth it.” Poor Ephraim is an undaunted heifer. Nature is a “bullock
unaccustomed with the yoke,” and so it is chastised more and more, Jer.
xxxi. 18. Man is like an untamed beast, as the horse, or as the mule.
Threatenings will not do it, “God speaketh once, yea twice, and man
perceiveth it not,” Job xxxiii. 14. God instructeth by the word, and men
receive no instruction; all the warnings to flee from the wrath to come
are as so many tales to make children afraid. He saith in his heart, “I
shall have peace, though I walk in the imagination of my own heart.”
Since, therefore, he will not incline his ear to the word, God sendeth his
rod to seal the word, and yet men are so wild that they fight with God’s
rods, and will not submit to him; a yoke must be put on Ephraim, a bridle
in men’s mouth, Psal. xxxii. 9. They will put God to more pains than
speaking, and it shall cost them more pain; for he that will not be drawn
with the cords of a man, love and entreaties, must be drawn with the cords
of a beast, and yoked in a heavy yoke. Yet men are unruly, and the yoke
groweth the heavier and sorer that they strive to shake it off. An
uncircumcised heart cannot be humbled,—“How can the leopard change his
spots? no more can my people return to me,” Jer. xiii. 23. It is strange
that a people so afflicted will not take with the punishment of their
iniquity, but will say in their heart, Wherefore come these things upon
me? But here it is, how can an uncircumcised heart be humbled? God may
beat on men with rods as on a dog, but he will run away from him still the
more, Isa. ix. 13. Nay, it may be there will be more stirring after God,
and more awaking by the first stroke of affliction, than when they are
continued and multiplied. The uncouthness of rods may affect people
something, but when his hand lieth on but a little, custom breedeth
hardness, and more and more alienateth spirits from him.
Now we need no more to seal this truth, but our own experience. I think
never people might speak more sensibly of it. It hath been the manner of
the Lord’s dealing with us, to use fair means to gain us, to threaten
before he laid on, to give a proclamation before his stroke, and yet it
hath been our manner from our youth up to harden ourselves against him,
and go on in our own way. Therefore hath the Lord, after long patience,
laid on sad strokes, and smitten us, yet have we not turned to him. It may
be, when the chastisement was fresh and green, some poured out a prayer,
and in trouble visited God, (Isa. xxvi. 16,) but the body of the land hath
not known him that smote them, and never ran into their hiding place, but
the temptation of the time, like a flood, hath carried them away with it.
And for the Lord’s children, how soon doth the custom of a rod eat out the
sense of it, and prayer doth not grow proportionably to the Lord’s rods.
The Lord hath expected that some might stand in the gap and intercede, yet
few or none called on his name. General corrections of the land hath made
general apostacy from God, not a turning in to God; so that we may say, we
never entered a furnace, but we have come out with more dross, contracted
dross in the fire. Men’s zeal and tenderness hath been burnt up, reprobate
silver may God call us. We have had so much experience of the
unprofitableness of former afflictions, that we know not what the Lord
shall do with us. We think it may be the Lord’s complaint of Scotland,
“Why should you be afflicted any more? you will revolt more and more,”
Isa. i. 5. What needeth another rod? You are now all secure, it is true,
because you are not stricken; nay, but what needeth a rod? For it cannot
awake you,—all the fruit of it would be, not to purge away sin, but to
increase it. General judgments will prove general temptations, and will
alienate you more from me, and make you curse God and the covenant. And
indeed, the truth is, we know not what outward dispensation can fall on
that can affect this generation, we know not what the Lord can have behind
that can work on us. Judgment hath had as much terror, mercies as much
sweetness, and as much of God in the one and the other, as readily hath
been since the beginning of the world. Only this we know, all things are
possible to him which are impossible to us, and if the Spirit work to
sanctify the rod, a more gentle rod shall work more effectually; his word
shall do as much as his rod.
The case we are now into is just this—“None calleth on thee.” It is a
terrible one, whether our condition be good or bad outwardly. Our peace
hath put us asleep, and the word cannot put men to prayers. Now, the Lord
hath begun to threaten, as you have been still in fear of new troubles,
and a revolution of affairs again, yet I challenge your own consciences,
and appeal to them,—whom hath the word prevailed with to put to prayer?
Whom hath the rumour of approaching trouble put to their prayers? Whose
spirit hath been affected with God’s frowning on the land? And this yet
more aggravateth your laziness, in the time that God doth show terrible
things to his people in Ireland, giveth them a cup of wormwood, and to
drink the wine of astonishment, are not you yet at ease? When your
brethren and fellow-saints are scattered amongst you as strangers,(319)
yet your hearts bleed not.
Well, behold the end of it,—your case is a sad prognostic of the Lord’s
hiding his face and consuming us; nay, it is a sure token that his face is
hid already. When Job’s friends would aggravate his misery, they sum it up
in this, “thou restrainest prayer from God.” It is more wrath to be kept
from much praying, not to be scattered, from your own houses. Therefore,
if you would have the cloud of God’s anger, that covereth the land with
blackness, go over you, and pour out itself on others; if you would
prevent the rod, hearken to the word, and stir up yourselves to much
prayer, that you may be called his remembrancers. O how long shall prayer
be banished this kingdom! The Lord’s controversy must be great with us,
for since the days of our first love there has been great decay of the
spirit of prayer. The children of God should be so much in it, as they
might be one with it. David was so much in prayer, as he in a manner
defined himself by it, Psal. cix. 4, “I give myself unto prayer.” In the
original, there is no more but “I prayer.” I was all prayer. It was my
work, my element, my affection, my action. Nay, to speak the truth, it is
the decay of prayer that hath made all this defection in the land. Would
you know the original of many a public man’s apostacy and backsliding in
the cause of God, what maketh them so soon forget their solemn
engagements, and grow particular, seeking their own things, untender in
seeking the things of God?—would you trace back the desertion up to the
fountain-head? Then come and see. Look upon such a man’s walking with God
in private, such a man’s praying, and you shall find matters have been
first wrong there. Alienation and estrangement from God himself, in
immediate duties and secret approaches, hath made men’s affections cool to
his interest in public duties. And believe it, the reason why so few great
men or none are so cordial, constant, and thorough in God’s matters is
this,—they pray not in secret; they come to parliament or council where
public matters concerning the honour of God are to be debated, as any
statesmen of Venice would come to the senate. They have no dependence on
God to be guided in these matters; they are much in public duties, but
little in secret with God. Believe it, any man’s private walking with God
shall be read upon his public carriage, whether he be minister or ruler.
There is yet another thing we would have you consider, to endear this duty
unto you, and bind upon your consciences an absolute necessity of being
much in it, and it is this. Prayer and calling on his name is often put
for all immediate worship of God, especially the more substantial and
moral part of service. This people was much in ceremonials, and they made
these their righteousness; nay, but there was little secret conversing
with God, walking humbly with him, loving him, believing in him. Well,
then, prayer is, as it were, a compend and sum of all duties; it contains
in it, faith, love, repentance; all these should breathe out in prayer. In
a word, if we say to you, be much in prayer, we have said all, and it is
more than all the rest, because it is a more near and immediate approach
to God, having more solid religion in it. If you be lively in this, you
are thriving Christians; and if you wither here, all must decay, for
prayer sappeth and watereth all other duties with the influence of heaven.
“That stirreth up himself to take hold on thee.” This expresseth more of
their condition under the rod, and while God was threatening to depart and
leave them. None took so much notice of it, as to awake out of his dream,
to take a fast hold of God. It was but like the grip a man taketh in his
slumbering, that he soon quitteth in his sleep; none awaketh himself, as a
bird stirreth up itself with its wings to flight; none do so spread out
their sails to meet the wind. This importeth a great security and
negligence, a careless stupidity. To take hold, to grip strongly and
violently, importeth both faith acted on God, and communion with God; so
that the sense is, nobody careth whither thou go,—there is none that
stirreth up himself to take violent hold of thee. Men lying loose in their
interest, and indifferent in the one thing necessary, do not strongly grip
to it. Nobody keepeth thee by prayer and intercession; so that there is no
diligence added to diligence, there is no stirring up of ourselves in
security.
_First_, When the Lord seemeth to withdraw, and when he is angry, it is
our duty to take hold the more on him; and not only to act faith, and call
on him by prayer, but to add to ordinary diligence,—it should be
extraordinary.
I. Then, I say, when the Lord is withdrawing and seemeth angry, we ought
not to withdraw from him by unbelief, but to draw near, and take hold on
him. And the Lord giveth a reason of this himself, Isa. xxvii. 4, 5,
“because fury is not in me.” It is but a moment’s anger, it is not hatred
of your persons but sins, it is not fury that hath no discretion in it, no
difference between a friend and an enemy; it is but at least a father’s
anger, that is not for destruction but correction. The Lord is not
implacable. Come to him and win him,—“Let him take hold of me, and let him
make peace with me, if he will make peace.” He is a God whose compassions
fail not; and so he is never so angry, but there is room left for
manifestation of mercy on those that come to him. God’s anger is not an
humour and passion as ours is, he can take the poor child in his arms,
admit it into his bosom, when outward dispensations frown. Men’s anger is
like the sons of Belial, briers and thorns, that none may come near to,
lest they be hurt; but God angry, is accessible, because his anger is
still tempered and mixed with clemency and mercy; and that mixture of
mercy is so great and so predominant in all his dispensations here, that
they being rightly understood, might rather invite to come, than scare
from it. There is more mercy to welcome, than anger to drive away. Look
upon the very end and purpose of God’s hiding himself, and withdrawing,—it
is this; that we may come and seek him early, Hosea v. 15. When God is
angry, mercy and compassion principleth it, for anger is sent out to bring
in wanderers. His anger is not humour, but resolute and deliberate,
walketh upon good grounds, because David in his prosperity missed not God.
When all things went according to his mind, then he let God of where he
will; therefore, the Lord in mercy must hide his own heart with a frowning
countenance, and cover himself with a cloud, that David may be troubled,
and so take hold on God, Psalm xxx. 7, 8. Since, then, this is God’s
purpose, that you may come nearer to him, and since he goeth away that you
may pursue; certainly he will never so run away as you may not find him
out, nor will he run farther nor he strengtheneth thee to pursue him;
thus, Psalm lxiii. 8, God was flying and David pursuing; nay, but the
flyer giveth legs to the pursuer, he upholdeth him, as it were against
himself: so did the angel strengthen Jacob to overcome himself. Now, shall
it not be pleasant to God, that you lay hold on him as your own, even when
he seemeth to be clothed with vengeance, seeing he changeth his outward
countenance for this very end? He seemeth to go, that you may hold;
because when you think he stayeth, you hold not; as the child, while the
nurse is near, will look about it, and take hold of any thing; but when
she withdraweth, the child cleaveth the faster to her.
But, II. We ought to stir up ourselves more now than any other time: times
of God’s withdrawing calleth for extraordinary and doubled approaches. So
Hos. v. 15, “They will seek me early.” And therefore the Lord’s children
in Scripture have made great advantage of such dispensations. The truth
is, as long as we are well dealt with, security creepeth on, and religion
is but in a decaying condition. Duties are done through our sleep; we are
not as men awaking and knowing what we do, and whither we go. But when the
Lord beginneth to trouble us, and hides his face, then it is time to awake
out of sleep, before all be gone: and there ought to be, 1. More diligence
in duties and approaching to God, because your case furnisheth more matter
of supplication; and as matter of supplication groweth, prayer should
grow. If necessity grow, and the cry be not according to necessity, it is
ominous. And therefore David useth to make his cry go up according to his
trouble. In a prosperous condition, though every thing might call a
tender-hearted loving Christian to some nearness to God; yet ordinarily,
if necessity press not, prayer languisheth and groweth formal. Sense of
need putteth an edge on supplication, whereas prosperity blunteth it. The
heart missing nothing, cannot go above sublunary things; but let it not
have its will here, and the need of heaven will be the greater. Now I say,
if you sit so many calls, both from a command, and from your own
necessities, you do so much the more sin. Affliction will make even a
hypocrite seek him, and pour out a prayer and visit him, Psalm lxxviii.
and Isa. xxvi. And if you do not take advantage of all these pressures,
you must be so much the more guilty; and therefore God, as it were,
wondereth at their obstinacy, “They return not to him that smiteth them!”
All this is come upon us, yet have we not prayed. And, 2. It is sent for
that end, that you may be more serious; and therefore you ought so much
the more to awake, to lay hold on him. This is the way the Lord useth with
his secure and wandering children, Psalm cxix. 67. For the Lord findeth us
often gripping too strongly to a present world, and taking it in our arms,
as if we were never to part with it. Men’s souls cleave to outward
accommodations; therefore the Lord useth to part us and our idol, that we
may take hold of him the faster. It is union with himself that is our
felicity, and it is that which God most endeavoureth. When he removeth
beloved jewels, it is because they were a stumbling-block, and divorced
the soul from God: when he seemeth to withdraw himself his going
proclaimeth so much, oh! follow, or perish.
III. It is a very dangerous thing when he withdraweth and you follow not,
when he is angry and you care not, do not fly in to make peace with him.
Certainly his anger must wax hotter, and desertion will become a spiritual
plague; rods must be tempered with much bitterness. What mixture of mercy
can be in such a dispensation, where the fruit of it is to harden? But if
the Lord’s hardest dealing wrought you to more nearness and communion with
himself; then certainly you have a fair advantage against the present
trouble, and you have your cup mixed. You shall at length bless God for
such dispensations; they may be reckoned for good to you.
Next, there ought to be more exercise of faith, and laying hold of the
grounds of consolation in God in such a time. 1. For as difficulties grow,
faith should fortify itself against them so much the more. The greater the
storm be, it should fly the more into the chambers. Faith in the time of a
calm day getteth no trial; faith bulketh much(320) because it hath not
much to do. But except there be some fresh and new supplies, it cannot
hold out in a temptation. But it is a singular proof of a noble and divine
faith,—that it can lay hold on him and keep him when he would go,—that can
challenge kindness on a miskenning Jesus,(321) —that can stand on the
ground of the promises when there is not a foot-breadth of a dispensation
to build on. While all things go with you ye have no difficulty to
maintain your faith; nay, but when the Lord seemeth to look angry, then
awake and gather strength, and take hold on his strength. Look what is in
your condition or his dispensation, what is good or ominous, then take
hold on the other hand on him, and look what is in him to answer it, and
swallow it up. Ye ought to be well acquainted with the grounds of
consolation that are in God, in the worst case, and then ye might lay hold
on him though he seemed a consuming fire. It is then a time that calleth
most for securing your interest in him, a time when there is no external
advantage to beguile you, a time when the only happiness is to be one with
God. Therefore the man who, in such calamities and judgments, is not
awakened to put his eternal estate out of question, he is in a dangerous
case. For, do not most part drive over their days, and have no assurance
of salvation, they dare not say either _pro_ or _contra_. It may be, and
it may not be. And this is the length that the most part come,—a negative
peace; no positive confidence; no clear concluding, on sure grounds, an
interest. Always ye are most called to this, when God afflicteth the land
or you: if ye do not then make peace it is most dangerous. 2. The Lord
loveth faith in a difficulty best,—it is the singlest and the cleanliest,
it is that which most honoureth him, and glorifieth his truth and
faithfulness, and sufficiency and mercy; for then it is most purely
elevated above creatures, and pitcheth most on God; and therefore bringeth
men to this, “No help for my soul, but thou art my portion.” And this
commendeth God most when he is set alone. Prosperity bringeth him down
among creatures, and secure faith maketh little distinction; but awakening
faith grippeth strongly and singly, putteth God alone.
_Secondly_, Oftentimes, when God is departing, none stirreth up himself to
lay hold on him. Although there may be praying and doing of many duties,
yet there is nothing beyond ordinary. The varieties and accessions of new
grounds of supplications doth neither make greater frequency nor more
fervency. This our experience may clear unto us both in duties and faith.
I. There is very little diligence in seeking of God in the way and means
appointed, even when God seemeth to bid farewell to the land, and go away.
Nobody cometh in as an intercessor. Men keep on their old way of praying,
and never add to it, come what like. Who is it that riseth above his
ordinary, as the tide of God’s dispensation is? There ought to be such an
impression made by the changes of God’s countenance as might be read on
the duties of his people. There should be such a distance between your
ordinary and such times as between a sleeping man and a waking man, that
whatever your attainment of access to God be, ye might stir up and go
beyond it according as matters call. Will God count your public fasts a
performance of this duty? Alas, we fast sleeping, and none stirreth up
himself to these things! Is there any difference betwixt your solemn
humiliation and another Sabbath? And is there any difference between a
Sabbath and a week-day, save the external duty? Is not this palpably our
case? Is there any wakening among us? No, security is both the universal
disease and complaint; and it is become an incurable disease since it
became a complaint. Doth any of you pray more in private than he used? Or
what edge is on your prayers? Alas! the Lord will get good leave to go
from us; it feareth me that we would give Christ a testimonial to go over
seas. Hold him, hold him! Nay, the multitude would be gladly quit of
him,—they cannot abide his yoke, his work is a burden, his word is a
torment, his discipline is bands and cords; and what heart can ye then
have to keep Christ? What violence can ye offer to him to hold him still?
All your entreaties may be fair compliments, but they would never rend his
garment.
II. There is no up-stirring to faith among us, and laying hold on Jesus
Christ, albeit all his dispensations warn us that it is now high time.
There are not many who are about this point, effectually to stir up their
faith or to secure their interest. Think ye that conjectures will carry
you through difficulties? The multitude think they believe much, but any
temptation proveth their mistake. The most part of Scotland would deny God
and his Son Jesus Christ, if they were put to it. Always it is a time ye
would not lie out from your stronghold,—faith only uniteth you to Christ,
and if ye would be kept in any trial, stir up faith.
_Thirdly_, Prayer and faith, diligence and laying hold on God, must go
together and help one another. Not calling on his name, and not laying
hold on him go together, and have influence one upon another.
I. Faith hath influence on prayer. Laying hold on God in Christ will make
right calling on his name, it learneth men how to call God, to call him
Abba, Father. Faith useth to vent itself in prayer. I say, much
consideration of God, and claiming into him, and to the grounds of
confidence in him, must both make prayer acceptable, and carry the stamp
and impression of God’s name, or Christ’s name, on it, and also make much
prayer: for when a soul hath pitched on God as its only felicity, and thus
made choice of him, it findeth in him all sufficiency, all things for all
things. There is no necessity, but it findeth a supply in his fulness for
it; and therefore it applieth a man to the fountain, to draw out of the
wells of salvation. There is nothing can be so sweet and refreshing as for
such a soul to pour out itself every day in him, to talk with him face to
face. Faith engageth the heart to come to God with all things; whereas
many difficulties would have been, and the secure or unsettled heart would
have gone as many different ways to help them. Faith layeth hold on God,
knoweth but one, and bringeth all here; and therefore access to God is a
fruit of it, access unto the grace wherein we stand by faith. And again,
how can prayer be acceptable as long as faith doth not principle it? It is
but like a beast’s groaning under a burden. Laying hold on God himself
makes a man’s duties acceptable, because he speaks and asks; believing
that he shall receive, he trusteth God and doth not tempt him. Where
lively faith is not entertained there cannot be much affection which is
the oil of the wheels. There may be in some bitterness of spirit much
vehemency; but that is not a pure flame of divine love that burneth upward
to him; and it is soon extinguished, and lasteth no longer nor present
sense, and then the soul groweth harder, as iron that had been in the
fire.
II. When there is not much prayer and calling, faith cannot lie strong and
violent; for prayer is even the exercise of faith, if you wear out of
that, faith rusteth. There may be much quietness with little prayer, but
there cannot be much, and strong and lively faith, for where it getteth
not continual employment it fags. And indeed prayer is a special point of
holding God fast, and keeping him, therefore join these, if ye would
thrive in anyone of them. Your unbelieving complaints are not prayers and
calling on his name, because they are not mixed with faith. As the apostle
said of the word, so may it be said of prayer,—your prayers are not
profitable, are not heard, because not mixed with faith. Ye use to doubt,
that ye may be fervent, to question your interest, that ye may stir up
your spirits to prayer. But alas! what a simple gross mistake is that?
Poor soul, though thou get more liberty, shall it be counted access to
God? Though you have more grief, and your bitterness doth indite more
eloquence, shall God be moved with it? Know ye not that you should ask
without wavering, and lift up pure hands without wrath and doubting? And
yet both are there.
_Fourthly_, The duty we are called to in such a time when God is angry, is
to lay hold on him. We would speak a word more of it. We ought to hold a
departing Lord, by wrestling with him in supplication, not to let him
depart till he bless, Hos. xii. 3, 4. The application of Jacob’s victory
over the angel is thus, “Turn ye to the Lord, and wait on him,” &c. How
had Jacob power over the angel? By supplication and weeping, so that
prayer is a victory over God, even the Lord God of hosts. We ought, as it
were, to strive against outward dispensation, when it saith, He is gone,
when our condition saith, He is gone, or going, we ought to wrestle with
it. No submission to such a departing, I mean, no submission that sitteth
down with it, and is not careful how it be. Now this time calleth you to
such an exercise. The Lord seemeth to be angry with us. There is a strong
cloud over the land, and like to pour down upon us—the Lord is drawing a
sword again, and beginning now to lay on. Many threatenings would not put
us to supplication. Now, what will the laying on of the rod do? If the
former days be returning wherein ye saw much sorrow, is it not then high
time for the Lord’s remembrancers, and for the Lord’s children to wrestle
with God? As Esau was coming on Jacob, so hath God armed men, and such
desperate men, as he hath made a rod to us before. If we be twice beaten
with it, it is very just, for before we did not seek in to him who smote
us.(322) You would know this, that the Lord is but seeking employment, and
if ye would deal with him, ye may make advantage of the present and future
calamities. And look to this laying hold on him, this is the chief thing
ye should now heed. It is God himself that should be your principal
object. Praying should be a laying hold on God, it should meet with
himself. For the most part in the time of prosperity, we cannot meet with
God singly, we have so much to do with creatures, we keep trysts so
punctually with them, so that we cannot keep with God. We have so many
things in our affections and thoughts, that God cannot get place, he
cannot get us at leisure for the throng of our business, we lose God by
catching at shadows. Well then, we are called in such a time of difficulty
to come in to God himself, to draw by the vail of ordinances, that we may
have communion with God himself. And this is right praying, when the soul
getteth such immediate access to God, as it were, to handle him, and see
him, and taste him, to exercise its senses on him. Ordinances have been of
a long time a covering of his face, and he useth not now to unvail himself
in the sanctuary, and let us see his glory God is departed from preaching
and praying, and the solemn meeting, so that we meet not with God,—we lay
hold on a shadow of an outward ordinance, but not on God himself.
Therefore, Christians, make advantage of this time. You may be brought to
want ordinances, then lay hold on himself who is the substance and marrow
of them. You may be denuded of outward comforts and accommodation here,
then lay hold on himself in much prayer. If affliction would blow away the
cloud on his face, or would scatter our idols from us, and make us single
alone with God, as Jacob was, it were well sent.
II. Your exercise should be to take hold on God by faith. 1. Ye would
make peace with God, be much in direct acts of apprehending God himself in
Jesus Christ. And this is according as ye take up yourselves with your own
misery and necessity. Do but travel continually between your own misery
and something answerable in God.
The first thing we would have you do, now when God frowns upon us, is to
find out your own lost condition, and how great strangers you have been to
him, even when ye have approached in many ordinances, and find a necessity
of making peace with God and atonement. Now from this day hold on Christ,
as the hope set before you. Look upon that in him which will answer all
your necessities, and be suitable to them. It is not matters of outward
lot that should go nearest your heart. Let the world go where it will,
that which concerneth you most in such a time, is the securing of your
soul, for if you lose it, what gain you? what keep you? Your houses, and
lands, and lives may be in hazard, nay, but one thing is more worth than
all these, and in more hazard. Begin at spiritual things, and ask how
matters stand between God and thee.
2. Not only would ye be much in immediate application unto Jesus Christ,
but ye would so take hold of him, as ye may be sure ye have him. Make
peace, and know that ye have made it, and then shall ye be kept in perfect
peace. You would never rest until you can on solid grounds answer the
question. And this duty is called for from you at such a time, for “the
just shall live by faith,” in a troublesome time, Hab. ii. 4. And as ye
ought to keep and hold fast confidence and not cast it away in such a
time, so should ye all seek after it. Do not only rest in this,—I know not
but I may belong to Christ, I dare not say against it. O no, Christians,
you should have positive clear grounds of assurance “I am his, and he is
mine,” “I know that my Redeemer liveth,” “God is my portion.” And if ye
conclude this solidly, I defy all the world to shake and trouble your
peace this is perfect peace, “peace, peace,” double peace. How can ye
choose but be shaken at every blast of temptation, when you are not thus
solidly grounded, when you hold not at your anchor?
And, 3. Having thus laid hold on Christ as your own, lay hold on all in
him as yours, and for your use. Whatever difficulty the present time or
your own condition afford, search but as much in God as may counterbalance
it. Answer all objections, from his mercy, goodness, power, wisdom,
unchangeableness, and this shall be more nor the trouble. God himself laid
hold upon, and made ours, is more nor removing a temporal calamity. It is
an eternal weight, to weigh down all crosses and disappointments. For what
can present things be? Is there not in the favour of his countenance that
which may drown them in oblivion? Are ye like to sink here? Is not God a
sure anchor to hold by? And if ye do not this, your trouble is nothing in
respect of the danger of your soul. Secure and loose lying out of God, not
putting this matter to a full point, is worse nor all your outward fading.
Therefore, we exhort you in the Lord’s name, to fly into this name of the
Lord, as a strong tower to run to and be safe. When the Lord seemeth now
to be angry with us, run not away from him, though he should yet clothe
himself with vengeance as a garment.
But, _first_, O ye poor people, who have never asked this question,
whether have I any interest in Jesus? ask it now, and resolve it in time.
If trouble come on, if scattering and desolation come on, and our land
fade as a leaf, certainly the Lord’s anger will drive you away, What will
ye do in the time of his indignation? All of you, put this to the
trial,—how matters stand between God and you.
And, _secondly_, If ye find all wrong, do not sink in discouragement, all
may be amended, while it is seen wrong in time. Nay, God taketh away
outward accommodation, to make you more serious in this. And it is the
very voice of rods,—every one fly into your hold, every one make peace
with me. You may take hold, and do it feckfully.(323)
_Thirdly_, You who have fled to Jesus, take more hold of him, you are
called also to renew your faith, and begin again. Make peace with God, let
your confidence be kept fast, and thus shall ye be immoveable, because he
changeth not. God will not go from you if ye believe—hold him by faith.
Christ could not do great things in Galilee because of their unbelief, and
so he departed from them. As unbelief maketh an evil heart to depart from
the God of all life and consolation, so doth it make God depart from us.
But faith casteth a knot upon him (to speak with reverence), it fasteneth
him by his own word and promise, and he cannot go by it. It is a violent
hand laid on God. “I will not let thee go till thou bless me.”
_Fourthly_, Faith and prayer, or holding of God, by believing in him, and
much employing him needeth much stirring up unto, and awaking. “That
stirreth up himself to take hold on thee.” Security is the moth of both
these, and eateth out the life of faith and supplication; it maketh prayer
so coldrife that it cannot prevail, and faith so weak that it cannot use
violence.
I. Security apprehendeth no evil, no need. A secure condition is a dream
that one is eating and yet his soul is empty. Look how the people of Laish
were quiet and secure, apprehending no evil; destruction cometh then on as
an armed man. Always it is much necessity that administers fuel to a man’s
faith and supplication. David says, (Psal. xxx. 7,) “I said in my
prosperity, I shall not be moved.” Nay, but many say in adversity, and cry
Peace, peace, where no peace is. Security pleadeth innocency, and then
believeth immunity. “I am innocent, therefore shall his anger turn away,”
Jer. ii. 31. Security applieth not sin, and so refuseth the curse of sin
and wages of it. And thus is a man in his own eyes a lord, and then he
will come no more to God, Jer. ii. 31. It is almost impossible to awake
men, by general judgments, to apprehend personal danger, and men never
stir out of their nest till it be on fire. We can behold, or hear of our
neighbours, spoiling and violence done to them, but till the voice of a
cry be heard in our own streets and fields, nobody will take the judgment
to themselves. It is well said, that which is spoken to all, is spoken to
none, so what is done to all in general, is done to none. The voice of a
general rod speaketh not particularly, and maketh not men apprehensive of
sad things, and thus men are not pressed unto prayer—are not put out of
themselves, it is only necessity that saps the roots of it, and makes it
green.
II. Security is lazy and not active, putteth not forth its hand to work,
and so dieth a beggar, for only the hand of the diligent maketh rich.
Laying hold on God is a duty that requireth much spirit in it; men do not
grip things well in their slumbering. There is no duty that needeth so
spiritual and lively principles. If a man do not put on such a piece of
resolution and edge upon him, he cannot come to the wrestling of prayer
and violence of faith. Although the exercise and acting of grace dependeth
more upon the Spirit of God’s present influence, than upon the soul of
man, yet this is the way the Lord communicateth his influence, by stirring
up and exciting the creature to its duty, as if it could do it alone.
Grace is one thing, and the stirring up of it is another thing. For when
we lie by and sleep over our time, and go not about the matter so
seriously as it were life and death, it is but a weak hold we can take of
God. According to the measure of a man’s apprehending necessity, and
according to the measure of his seriousness in these things, so will the
hand of faith grip, and lay hold with more or less violence. As a man
drowning will be put from sleeping, and when one is in extreme hazard all
his strength will unite together in one to do that which at any ordinary
time it could not do, so ought it to be here. A Christian assaulted with
many temptations should unite his strength, and try the yondmost.(324) O
but your whole spirits would run together, to the saving of yourselves, if
ye were very apprehensive of necessity! The exercise of faith is a dead
grip, that cannot part with what it grippeth. Therefore, 1. We must say to
you, it is not so easy a thing as you believe, to lay hold on God,—there
must be stirring up to it. And when the Lord speaketh of our stirring
ourselves, certainly he meaneth this likewise, that he must stir us, ere
we stir ourselves. 2. Above all, be afraid of a secure condition: it is
the enemy of communion with God and spiritual life. Therefore, look about
you, and apprehend more your necessity, and then give no rest and
quietness to yourself, till you have employed and engaged him, be as men
flying to lay hold on the refuge set before you. 3. It must be a time of
little access to God, and little faith, when we are all secure, and nobody
goeth about religion as their work and business. We allow ourselves in it,
therefore, we do exhort yon, _first_, To purpose this as your end to aim
at, and purpose by God’s grace to take more hold of God. There is little
minding of duty, and that maketh little doing of it. Once engage your
hearts to a love and desire of more of this, come to a point of
resolution, I must know him more, and trust more in him, be more acquaint
with him. And, _secondly_, Put yourselves in the way of duty. It is God
that only can stir you up, or apply your hearts to the using of violence
to God, but ye would be found in the outward means much, and in these ways
God will meet with you, if you wait on him in them.
“For thou hast hid thy face from us.” Here is the greatest plague, a
spiritual plague. The last verse was but the beginning of sorrows, “We all
do fade,” &c. But lo, here the accomplishment of misery, God hiding his
face, and consuming them in the hand of their sins.
_First_, The Lord’s hiding of his face, and giving up a people to melt
away in their sins, punishing with judicial blindness and security, is the
worst judgment, it filleth the cup full. This complaint goeth on still
worse, and certainly it is worse nor their fading as a leaf and exile out
of their land. It is not without reason, that great troubles and
afflictions are so expressed, “Thou didst hide thy face,” as David said,
“Thou didst hide thy face, and I was troubled,” importing as much, as it
is not trouble that doth trouble, but God’s hiding of his face that maketh
trouble. It is in so far trouble, as it is a sign of his displeasure, and
as the frowns of his countenance are upon it, therefore, the saints,
aggravating their affliction, say, “Thou hidest thy face.” You know the
face is the place wherein either kindness or unkindness appeareth. The
Lord’s countenance, on face, is a refreshful sweet manifestation of
himself to a soul, it is the Lord using familiarity with a spirit, and
this made David more glad than corn and wine. Now, the hiding of the face,
the withdrawing of his countenance, is, when the Lord in his dispensation
and dealing doth withhold the manifestation of himself, either in life or
consolation, when he covereth himself with clouds round about, that
neither can a soul see into the backside of it—into his own warm heart,
nor can the sun beams shine through to quicken and refresh the soul. The
Lord draweth over his face a vail of a crossing dispensation, or such
like.
There is a desertion of the soul in the point of life and spiritual
action, and there is a desertion in regard of consolation. The varieties
of the Lord’s desertions run upon these two. As a Christian’s life is
action or consolation, and the Lord’s influence is either quickening or
comforting, so his withdrawing is either a prejudice to the one or the
other. Sometimes he goeth “mourning all the day,” nay, but he is “sick of
love,” sometimes he is a bottle dried in the smoke, and his moisture dried
up. The Christian’s consolation may be subtracted, and his life abide, but
he cannot have spiritual consolation, if he be not lively. This life is
more substantial,—comfort is more refreshful,—life is more solid,—comfort
sweet, that is true growing solid meat, this but sauce to eat it with.
The hiding here meant is certainly a spiritual punishment. The Lord
denying unto this people grace to understand the voice of the rod,—he
appearing as a party against them,—leaving them to their own carnal and
lazy temper, and thus they lay still under God’s displeasure. Now, there
is nothing like this.
I. Because it is a spiritual punishment, and estates are not to be valued
and laid in the balance with the soul. Albeit men are become so brutish
as to abase their souls, and prostitute them to any thing, yet all a man
hath is not considerable to it.
II. It is a more excellent thing that is removed by it,—“In his favour is
life,”—all felicity and happiness is in God’s countenance. If a man have
not this, what hath he else? Losses are according as the thing is. Nay,
but here is more,—“My Lord is taken from me, my God hath forgotten me.”
And indeed, if man’s true happiness be in communion with God, certainly,
any interruption coming in must be sad, and make a man more miserable than
the world knoweth. There is a greater emphasis in that word, “Thou hast
hid thy face,” than if he had said, all the world hideth their face and
maketh a scorn of us.
Therefore, _first_, Know what is the worst thing of the times. Many of you
think sword and pestilence, and the burdens of the time, the worst things,
and if you were now to complain, the saddest complaint would
be,—affliction is laid on our loins. But know this, if your cities were
desolate, if your land were made a wilderness, and we captives in another
land, there is yet a worse thing than all these, and think you not this
strange? Nay, I say, there is something worse already in us, that we know
not of, and it is this—“Make the hearts of this people hard.” A spirit of
slumber and deadness from the Lord upon the land, there are multitudes he
will never show his face unto, it is still vailed from them, and they know
him not. Ye that think all were well if ye had peace and prosperity, and
know no hiding of God’s countenance—no anger but when he striketh;
certainly you know not what his countenance is by all these things men
neither know love nor hatred. 2. Whatever calamity come upon you
outwardly, deprecate most spiritual plagues and God’s deserting. If you
have God’s countenance, it may make you glad in much sadness. You would be
most careful lest any partition-wall came in lest his countenance change
on you, if you grieve his Spirit and break his heart. Seek to have his
face to shine, and this shall be a sun with healing under his wings. O but
Christ’s countenance is comely, when it is seen without clouds! but often
it is overclouded with much provocation.
_Secondly_, The Lord’s hiding of his face hath influence on the temper of
spirits and disposition in duties. The truth is in general, “In him we
live, and move, and have our being,” and more especially, in many things
that are spiritual, we are of our selves able to do nothing. The
creature’s holiness, and especially our life, is but as the rays that the
Sun of righteousness sendeth forth round about him, and if any thing come
between it evanisheth. As the marygold that openeth its leaves when the
sun riseth, and closeth when it goeth down again, so exactly doth our
spiritual constitution follow the motions of his countenance, and depend
wholly on them. “Thou hidest thy face, and they are troubled,” Psal. xxx
7. The Lord needeth no more but discountenance us, and we are gone.
Always, I. Be more dependent creatures. We use to act as from habits
within, without any subordination to the Lord’s grace without us, but we
find that our sufficiency is not of ourself. How often doth your spiritual
condition change on you in an hour? You cannot command one thought of God,
or act from any habit of grace, even then when you can bring forth other
gifts in exercise. Ye find that grace findeth more difficulties, more
interruptions,—therefore learn to attend the changes and motions of his
countenance.
II. When you find your heart dead, and you concluded under an
impossibility of taking hold of God in a lively manner, then, I pray you,
look unto the Lord’s suspending of his influence, and let your whole
endeavours be at the throne of grace to help it. It will not be your own
provoking of yourself to your duty, but you must put yourself upon God,
that he may cause his face to shine.
III. Though the Lord’s hiding his face be often a cause of our deadness,
and his desertion maketh all to wither, yet we have often a culpable hand
in it, and he hides his face being provoked so to do. One thing we may
mention, grieving of the Holy Ghost whereby we are sealed, quenching the
motions of the Spirit, maketh the Spirit cover his face with a vail and
hide it. There is here ordinarily a reciprocal or mutual influence. Our
grieving him makes him withdraw his countenance, and his withdrawing his
countenance maketh us to wither and grow barren.
IV. The most sure and infallible token of the Lord’s hiding his face, is
security, and a spirit of deadness and laziness, when folk go about duties
dreaming, and do all as it were through their sleep. Therefore we may
conclude sad things on this land, that the Lord hideth his face from us.
And therefore arise, and do not settle and quiet yourself in such a
condition. The Lord is angry, needeth any more be said? No more needeth to
kind children, but the rod must follow this to make anger sensible.
AN USEFUL CASE OF CONSCIENCE
Learnedly And Accurately Discussed And Resolved, Concerning Associations
And Confederacies With Idolaters, Infidels, Heretics, Malignants, Or Any
Other Known Enemies Of Truth And Godliness.
Section I.
That There Is A Malignant Party Still In The Kingdom.
In the entry to this business, the importunity of not a few makes it
needful to speak somewhat to a question which unto this time hath been
unquestioned, as beyond all exception, that is, whether there be yet in
Scotland a malignant party? Or, whether there be at this time any party
who may and ought, in reason and Christian prudence, to be reputed and
looked upon as malignants and disaffected to the covenanted cause of God?
It seems the more needful to speak somewhat of this, 1. Because some
ministers are become slack and silent in this point, as if now there were
no need of watchfulness and warning against any such party, 2. Because the
expressions of many of the people of the land run that way, that there are
now no malignants in Scotland, and that it is but a few factious ministers
that will still keep up these names, that they may more easily, with
others of their own stamp, weaken and divide the kingdom, for carrying on
of their own ends, 3. Because the inclinations and resolutions of the
public judicatories, in reference to most of the party who carried that
name, do clearly import that they do think they are no more to be looked
upon as malignants, as appears from several of their papers, especially
the letter written for satisfaction to the presbytery of Stirling. And
therefore this must be laid down as the foundation of what follows. That
there is still in the land, not only a few persons, but a party
considerable for number, power, and policy, who are malignant and
disaffected to the covenant and cause of God. We would join heartily in
the desire of many, that these and other such like odious names of
different parties and factions were taken away, but we cannot join in the
reasons of this desire which are ordinarily given. We wish the name
malignant were obsolete and antiquate, if so be the thing itself, which is
such a root of bitterness, were extirpated out of the church. Yea, though
the thing itself remained, if men would hate it for itself, and account it
more odious and hateful than the name imports, we would be glad it were no
more heard of, because we find this prejudice, by all such appropriated
names, that people generally look upon that which goes under that name as
the only sin, and as if there were not that root of bitterness, in all
which it grows out of, in any, and so conceive themselves good Christians
if they fall not under that hateful appellation of malignants. But seeing
this bitter fruit of enmity, against godliness and the godly, comes to
more ripeness and maturity in many of this generation than in others, who
yet are unconverted, and seeing it hath been the custom of the church of
God in all generations, to discriminate many more ungodly and known haters
of godliness and his people from the common sort of natural people, and to
comprehend them under these names of wicked, of malignant, of enemies as
may appear in the Old Testament, especially in the Psalms, and that more
especially in our days, that name hath been appropriated to such who have
declared themselves, in their words or actions, to be haters of godliness
and the power thereof, and his people, or have arisen to the height of
actual opposition against these, we cannot be blamed for using such a name
still, for distinction’s sake. We proceed to some reasons.
I. The constant and continued proceedings of the General Assembly and
their commissioners for many years past unto this day.
There is not almost any of their warnings, declarations, or remonstrances,
which doth not assert this, and warn against it, and that not only before
the king’s homecoming and taking of the covenant, but also since that
time, as is evident by the Declaration emitted by the commission in July
last,(325) the Declaration of the Assembly itself, a little after,(326) by
the Declaration emitted at Stirling since the defeat at Dunbar,(327) the
Causes of the Fast upon that defeat,(328) the Remonstrance to the king at
Perth after his escape, together with the Remonstrance given in by them to
the parliament,(329) all which do clearly hold forth this truth.
II. Take Christ’s rule, “By their fruits ye shall know them.” There is a
great party in the land that adhere to malignant principles, bring forth
malignant fruits, and tread malignant paths, as may appear in these
instances. 1. A great many of these who have been formerly engaged in such
courses, and under church censures, did lately conjoin together and rise
in arms, and drew away the king(330) from the public councils of the
kingdom, and refused to lay down arms till they got conditions agreeable
to their mind; which course of theirs was justly declared by the
commission to carry upon it the stamp of malignancy in an eminent way. 2.
The seeking to promote and establish an arbitrary power in the person of
the king, as it hath been still the endeavour of the malignant party, so
it hath been always taken by the kirk of Scotland as one of their
characters; and that there is a party now in Scotland who still hold that
principle, and drive this design of arbitrary power, is evident. First,
because these same men, who were lately in arms, did not only take up arms
upon the king’s simple warrant, and without the knowledge, and contrary to
the mind of the committee of estates; but also received the act of
indemnity,(331) and laid down arms, in obedience to the king’s majesty,
without so much as mentioning or acknowledging the committee of estates,
as is to be seen in a paper subscribed by them,(332) and in the
remonstrance of the commission of the General Assembly, dated at Perth,
Nov. 29, 1650, the words whereof are these: “Your lordships should
likewise consider, whether it doth not encroach upon the present
constitution of government of this kingdom, and will not involve your
lordships in the guilt of these men’s sin, if you shall accept of their
laying down of arms, merely upon the profession of obedience to the king’s
command, without any expression of their respect and obedience to the
committee of estates, or any acknowledgment of their sin and offence,
which we hope you will look upon as a most unnatural and unseasonable
rending of the kingdom, in the time of this heavy oppression by a common
enemy, and exposing the kingdom to all misery and ruin.”(333) Second, It
may be remembered that in the first model of the agreement which was made
at Breda,(334) that clause which doth concern the determining of civil
matters in the interval of parliament, by such as are authorized by
parliament for that effect, and the king’s majesty hearkening to their
advice, was wholly left out; and any who are acquainted with expressions
and inclinations of sundry great ones in the land, are not ignorant of
their dislike of a committee of estates, and their desire to have the
administration of matters, in the interval of parliament, wholly devolved
upon the king’s council. And the same spirit that would draw business from
the committee to a cabinet council, would at last draw them from the
parliament itself, because that is also, if not more, crossing to private
interests and designs than a committee of estates. Third instance. There
is a party in the land who as in their hearts they do envy, and in their
tongues do traduce men that have been steadfast and faithful in the
covenant and cause of God, so do they endeavour to the utmost of their
power, to bring them into disgrace and contempt, and to get them removed
from power and trust, and, upon the other side, study with no less
diligence to get places of power and trust, in the army and elsewhere,
filled with such as either have been open enemies or secret underminers.
Fourth instance. Are there not many who oppose the kingdom of Jesus
Christ and work of reformation, not only by holding up that old calumny of
malignants, concerning the seditious and factious humour of ministers, and
their stretching of themselves beyond their line, and by mocking all
faithful and free preaching of the word, and by bearing down the power of
godliness, deriding and hating all the lovers and followers thereof, by
being impatient of the discipline and censures of the church, but also
looking upon the government of the church with an evil eye, and strongly
inclining some of them, that church government be put in the hands of a
few prelates, most of them that it may be wholly devolved upon the civil
government? Fifth instance. There is still a party in the land that
endeavour to have the state of the question altered, and to have religion
left out of the same, that it being stated upon civil interest, they may
take to themselves a greater latitude in their way of carrying on
business. This was holden forth to be the design of the malignant party in
the year 1648, as appears in the Declaration of the Commission that year
in March, and there was a necessary and seasonable warning given against
it by the Commission in their Declaration, of the date July 1650.
III. Besides those who are excommunicated, there are yet in the land a
considerable number of persons of chief note, who do still lie under
censures of the church, some because of their accession to the late
unlawful engagement, others because of their accession to the late course
of rebellion, about the time of the king’s escape from Perth, besides many
others of less note.
IV. We suppose that it is most certain and unquestionable, that there was
lately a malignant party and faction in the land, very numerous and
powerful. How many men of blood, murderers of their brethren, as
unnatural and barbarous as the Irish(335) they once joined with, against
their country,—how many have watched all opportunities for troubling the
peace of the kingdom, and rejoiced in the day of its calamity? How many
were the oppressors of those who called on the Lord’s name in the time of
the Engagement?(336) What multitudes of profane and ungodly mockers of all
godliness, and haters and persecutors of the godly, swarming everywhere?
If this be truth, as it is indeed, we may say, who hath heard such a
thing? Who hath seen such a thing? Shall a nation be born at once? And
have they so soon learned to do well, who have been so long accustomed to
do evil? When did this catholic conversion fall out, and by what means?
Hath the act of indemnity and pardon such influence, to justify these men
from all their butcheries and barbarous cruelties? The adding of three
thousand to the church in one day, was miraculous in the days of miracles.
But behold, a greater miracle than that in the days when miracles are
ceased, many thousands added to the church of the friends of the cause of
God in one day, and that not by preaching, which is the power of God unto
salvation, not by spiritual weapons, which are mighty through God, but by
the carnal weapon of an act of indemnity, and the example of one man, the
king’s conjunction in the cause, which at the best hath not such evidence
of reality as to convince any, and change their mind. Sad experience, and
the constant testimony of the church of Scotland proves, that malignancy
is a weed that hath deeper and stronger roots than to be plucked up so
easily; and that, though there be some, yet there be but few in the land
who have been once engaged in that way, that have really and indeed
abandoned and come off the same.
The point shall more appear by taking off objections that are made to the
contrary. It is objected, 1. That these who were formerly esteemed
malignants, did oppose the work of God because they could not be persuaded
in conscience, that the covenant and cause were contrived and carried on
in a warrantable way, those who were most instrumental in it, seeming to
them not only to act without authority, but against authority. But so it
is, that the king hath now joined in the covenant and added his authority
to it, and therefore it needs not be feared that these men will any more
oppose it, nay it may be expected, they will no less zealously promote the
ends thereof than they did formerly oppose the same.
_Answer_: This argument supposeth some things that are false, some things
at best doubtful, and some things dangerous.
I. It supposeth two falsities: 1. That it was a ground and principle of
conscience and respect to the king’s authority that made these men to
oppose the covenant and work of reformation. If it was the conscience and
conviction of the unwarrantableness of it for the want of authority, that
stirred them up to oppose the covenant and cause, then why did they
subscribe it and join in the defence of the same against the king? 2. It
supposeth that the only ground, why they did oppose and undermine the
same, was, because the king was of a contrary mind, and refused to join in
the covenant, and ratify the same by his authority, which also is false,
for there were several other grounds and causes of so doing besides this.
We shall name a few, leaving the rest to a further scrutiny (1.) The
natural enmity that is in the hearts of all men against the Lord and his
anointed, his work and his people, and the power of godliness which doth
effectually work in the children of disobedience. (2.) An enmity against
the power of parliament and laws. (3.) An enmity against the union of the
kingdoms. (4.) An enmity against the power of presbyteries, and the
discipline of the church, to which are opposed, a sinful desire of
breaking the bonds and casting away the cords of the Lord and his
anointed, a desire to establish an arbitrary power and unlimited monarchy,
a desire to establish a lordly prelatical power in the persons of a few,
or to have the government of the church wholly dependent on the civil
power, a desire to dissolve the union of the kingdoms, that they may be
thereby weakened and less able to resist malignant designs against
religion and liberties, a desire to live loosely without bands in regard
of personal reformation.
II. It supposeth something that is at best doubtful, to wit, that the king
hath really joined unto the cause of God, there being small evidences of
it, and many presumptions to the contrary, especially, 1. His bringing
home with him into the kingdom, a number of eminent, wicked and known
malignants; his countenancing of, and familiar conversing with such in
this nation since his coming,(337) and correspondence with others of them
abroad, his deserting of the public councils of the kingdom, to join to a
party of bloody and wicked men, raided in arms with his knowledge and by
his warrant. 2. His not being convinced of any guilt in his father,
because of his opposition to the cause and covenant, notwithstanding of
all the blood of the Lord’s people shed by him in that opposition. For
verifying whereof, we appeal to the knowledge of some noblemen and
ministers, who have occasion to know his mind and to be serious with him
in this thing.
III. It supposeth something that is of very dangerous consequence. 1. That
these men’s zeal to the cause or against it, doth ebb and flow according
to the king’s being against it or for it. Since they follow the cause not
for itself but for the king, will they not desert it when the king
forsakes it? Can they be accounted real friends of the cause who are
known to favour it only, _ad nutum principis_,(338)—as the comedian, _ait,
aio, negat, nego_?(339) Is it not all one to follow the cause for the
king, and for a man’s own interest and advantage? Both are alike extrinsic
and adventitious to the cause, both are alike changeable. Eccebulus under
Constantius was a precise Christian, under Julian a persecuting apostate;
and then again under the next Christian emperor became a Christian. And it
is like if he had outlived that emperor till a heathen succeeded, he
should have paganized the second time. 2. That very principle that is
pretended to unite them to the cause is in itself most dangerous, both to
the privileges of parliament and liberties of the people, and to our
religion beside. Their principle of opposition was, “They conceived the
way followed could not be warrantable without the king’s consent and
warrant, that people might not vindicate their own just rights and
liberties, and their religion, without the king’s concurrence, or against
him.” Now then, the principle of their conjunction to the cause must be
this, because it is now clothed with authority which it had not before,
and which now makes it warrantable. This principle therefore includes in
the bosom of it, the establishing of unlimited and absolute power in
kings; the unlawfulness of defensive wars against tyranny and oppression;
the king’s negative voice, and the dependent power of parliaments upon his
pleasure; all which are principles destructive of the cause and our
liberties, and the very characters(340) of our enemies from the beginning.
Thus they have changed their way, but not their principles, and are now
the more dangerous that they may not be looked upon as enemies, but as
friends. Seeing it is manifest, that it is not the love of the cause that
constrains them, and they know it was not that principle that persuaded
the king, but mere necessity, contrary to his own inclination, may we not
certainly expect, that according to their principles they will labour to
set at freedom the king, whom they conceive imprisoned and captivated by
the power of necessity within the limits and bounds of a regulated
monarchy, and to loose him from all these chains of involuntary treaties
and agreements, and rigid laws and parliaments, that he may then act in
freedom and honour according to his own inclination and theirs both? And
then farewell religion and liberties.
_Objection 2_: The most part of these who were formerly malignant, have
now repented of that sin, and make profession of their resolution to
adhere to the covenant and cause of God, and to bestow their lives and
estates in defence thereof. Therefore they are not now to be esteemed
malignants.
_Answer_: We would wish from our hearts that we had no answer to this
argument; then should we yield the point in hand, and yield it cheerfully,
that there is no malignant party now in Scotland. But, alas! that we have
so much evidence convincing our consciences and persuading them to deny
what is objected. We acknowledge some have indeed repented, and such we
desire to embrace and receive with all tenderness and love, as godly
Christians, worthy to be intrusted. But yet the most part of them do still
bring forth the same malignant fruits. Their ungodly and wicked practices
testify to their face that they have nothing to do to take his covenant in
their mouth, seeing they hate to be reformed. The late rising in arms,
contrary to their solemn and particular engagements, their bearing down
and reproaching the godly, and such as are of known integrity, their
studying to fill places of trust with men formerly enemies or underminers,
their continuing in their profane and loose walking,—all these are more
convincing evidences of their retaining their old principles than any
extorted confessions or professions, for sinister respects and ends can be
no probable signs of their repentance and change.
We desire these things to be remembered, 1: That the Engagement(341) was
carried on, not by open and professed enemies, but such as had made public
profession of their repentance, and were thereupon admitted to trust. 2.
That upon consideration of the hypocrisy and instability of these men
appearing in that and other particulars, the kirk and kingdom of Scotland
did take upon themselves strait bonds and engagements to exclude such from
trust, until such time as they had given real evidences of the reality of
their repentance, and of abandoning their former principles and ways, of
which the kirk was to judge impartially as in God’s sight. 3. That it hath
been confessed and preached by many godly ministers, and was given in by
sundry in the time of the search of the Lord’s controversy against the
land, in November last at Perth, and hath been bemoaned and regretted by
many of the people who feared God, that there is a great deal of sin and
guilt lying on the kirk of Scotland, for the sudden receiving of
scandalous persons, especially malignants, to the public profession of
repentance before there was in them any real evidence of their forsaking
their former principles and ways.
_Objection 3_: None are now to be esteemed malignants, in reference to
employment and trust, but such as stand judicially declared by kirk and
state to be so; for certainly, men are not to lie under the burden of so
great a reproach, upon the private whisperings and common reports of
others, otherwise, honest men may be wronged, and there shall be no end of
confusion, or terminating this controversy, there being no certain rule to
walk by in it.
_Answer_: We acknowledge that surmisings, whisperings, and reports of
others are not sufficient, but that a rule is needful. All the question
will be, What is that rule? And though the judicial debarring of
judicatories be not all, but it must be ruled by another rule, yet are we
willing to take it for so much; for even that will prove there is yet a
malignant party in Scotland, because many are standing under church
censures [albeit we are sorry there is so much precipitancy and haste in
taking off the censures].(342) Those involved in the late rebellion are
standing under a sentence of the commission,(343) declaring them to be
following their old malignant designs; few of them are yet admitted to
profession of repentance. We desire it may be considered, that the rule
holden forth by the kirk of Scotland 1648, for admitting of persons to
trust is of larger extent than judicial sentence or censure; to wit, that
they be such against whom there is no just cause of exception or jealousy.
2. Albeit a judicial trial or censure be indeed necessary, for inflicting
punishment or censure upon men, yet it is not necessary for avoiding
association with them, or debarring them from trust. 3. If none were to be
accounted malignants, but they who are judicially declared to be such,
what needed the kirk of Scotland have frequently taken so much pains, to
give characters to know them by, there being so clear and compendious a
way beside? Hath there not been always in the land secret underminers as
well as open enemies? And hath not faithful men avoided the one as well as
the other? 4. The General Assembly, 1648, declared the taking in of these
who followed James Graham(344) to be an association with malignants,
though most part of them were then released from church censures.
Section II.
That The Present Public Resolutions, Expressed In The Commission’s Answer
To The Parliament’s Query, And The Act Of The Levy, Do Not Exclude That
Party.
In the next place, upon supposal and proof, that there is a malignant
party and faction still in the land, it is needful to examine, whether the
exceptions contained in the answer of the Commission to the Parliament’s
Query,(345) and inserted into the Act of Levy,(346) be so comprehensive as
to include all that party. The exceptions be four: 1. Such as are
excommunicated. 2. Such as are forfaulted. 3. Such as are notoriously
profane or flagitious. And, 4. Such as have been from the beginning, and
continue still, or at this time are, obstinate enemies and opposers of the
covenant and cause of God. That these are not comprehensive of the whole
malignant party in the land, appears.
First, The rules of the General Assembly framed for the exclusion of all
such as ought not to be employed in our armies, are far more
comprehensive. The rule is for employing of such only as are of a
Christian and blameless conversation, which is turned over by their
commissioners into a negative, all that are not notoriously profane or
flagitious. Another is, for intrusting only these who have been of known
integrity and constant friends to the cause of God from the beginning,
which is also turned over into a negative, all that have not been constant
enemies. All such, by the Answer, are capable of some trust and
employment. The rules agreed upon by the assembly, and ratified by act of
parliament, anno 1649, and renewed upon occasion of this invasion, were
that no officer nor soldier that followed James Graham should be permitted
in the army, nor any officer that was in the Engagement, except such as,
upon real evidence of repentance, were particularly recommended by the
church, nor any common soldier, but upon sufficient testimony of his
repentance. Now, since it is proved that the most part of all such
continue still malignants, and retain their old principles, and that the
bulk and body of the people are called forth by the public resolution,
without such exceptions as were conceived before necessary, for the
exclusion of that party, it follows clearly, that the malignant party is
not excepted in the present resolutions.
Second. Few of these who were in the late rebellion, and declared, not
many days since, to be following a most malignant design and course, are
contained under these exceptions, because very few of them are
excommunicated or forfaulted, and though more of them be indeed flagitious
and profane, yet very few of them will fall under the compass of the
exception, notoriously flagitious. Many wicked things will be said to
concur to make up a profane man. Some acts will not serve; a habit must be
demonstrated, and though that were showed, yet there must be also a
notoriety of it, which imports a man to be famous for looseness and
profanity, and there are none almost, if any in the land, who have been
professed enemies from the beginning, and continue so to this day. James
Graham was not such. It is the matter of our sad complaint, that whilst
many are enemies, they make profession and semblance of friendship.
Third. These exceptions do not comprehend any who are under censure for
malignancy or profanity, except such as are under the sentence of
excommunication, and that even such may not be excluded, lest the rule be
transgressed, by admitting and employing excommunicated persons, ’tis
withal resolved, that these persons shall be relaxed from that sentence,
that so they may be immediately in the same capacity of employment with
others, whatever formerly hath been their opposition or defection. Some
exceptions must be made, for honesty and credit’s sake. But the nearest
and readiest way is taken to make them ineffectual.
Fourth. These exceptions do not only not reach these who were upon the
unlawful engagement and have not as yet given sufficient proof of their
abandoning their malignant principles and courses, but come not the length
of comprehending these men of blood who followed James Graham and in the
most barbarous and cruel way, shed the blood of their own brethren and
God’s people. Because the most part of these are not excommunicated nor
forfaulted, nor notoriously flagitious and profane, nor such as have from
the beginning been, and still are enemies. If any will say, that such are
comprehended under these exceptions, why did the commission express the
exceptions in such terms, as to men’s common apprehension do not include
many, especially seeing there are known rules, particular and distinct,
without ambiguity, and seeing there is such a propension in rulers to
employ all without difference, which would undoubtedly take advantage of
any thing that seemed to look that way?
It is likewise manifest, that the second part of the answer, relating to
the capacity of acting, is loaded with the same inconvenience. 1. There is
no positive determination of the qualifications of persons to be
intrusted, as in former times it was agreed on by the Assembly and their
Commissioners, but that is now referred to the discretion of the
parliament, together with such diminutive terms, as give them great
latitude to go upon. Before, no trust was given to such persons. Now, it
is allowed they shall have some trust, and how much is not determined, nor
what degree of it is prejudicial to the cause, which it appears, the
parliament’s proceedings in nomination of officers unquestioned by the
Commission, is a good commentary to expound that they may have any trust,
except to be general officers. 2. Our former established rule was, that no
persons should be intrusted, but such as are of known integrity, and have
been constant friends of the cause. But how far is this diminished? They
who are such, only recommended to be especially taken notice of. Less
could not be said by any. More ought to have been said by the Commission.
And though no such notice be taken of such by the parliament, but on the
contrary, those who have been most faithful, and suffered in the late
defeat at Hamilton,(347) are used as enemies, worse than malignants in
former times, yet there is no testimony given against such things.
_Quantum mutatus ab illo cœtu qui quondam fuit!_(348)
Before we enter upon the chief question, we offer these manifest and known
truths to consideration:
(1) The occasion of contriving and subscribing first the national
covenant, and then the solemn league and covenant, was, the designs and
practices of the popish, prelatical and malignant party, against religion
and the work of reformation in these kingdoms. (2) Since the contriving
and subscribing of the same, it hath been the continual endeavour of that
party sometimes by undermining and some times by open opposition to undo
the same and to bear down all those that clave honestly thereto and
faithfully prosecute all the ends thereof. (3) That there hath been these
many years past and still is, such a party, in all the three kingdoms,
considerable for number, power, and policy. (4) That that party hath
always prosecuted their design under a colour of zeal and respect to the
king’s authority and interest. (5) That that party hath always been the
authors and abettors of much bloodshed, many miseries, and sad calamities
to these nations. (6) That the people of God in these kingdoms have taken
upon themselves a most solemn and sacred bond of an oath and covenant to
discover them and bring them to condign punishment. (7) That it hath been
one of the predominant sins of Scotland under the bond of the covenant to
comply with them. (8) That indignation and wrath from the Lord hath been
following that party and their designs these years past. (9) That
compliances with them hath always been cursed to us of God. (10) That few
of that party do really abandon and forsake their corrupt principles and
way and join cordially in the cause and covenant. (11) That many of them
do, after the profession of their repentance for their opposition to the
cause and covenant of God, relapse frequently into the same sin. (12) That
sudden receiving of many of them to fellowship and trust, and too great
credulity in believing their professions hath often cost this land very
dear. (13) That upon consideration of the deep treachery and hypocrisy of
these men, and the sad consequences following upon sudden receiving of
them without evidence of a change, after long and renewed experience, this
land renewed their obligations more strictly in the solemn engagement.
(14) That there hath been a design driven these two years past to get that
party again in power and trust. (15) That this design hath been testified
against by the public resolutions of the judicatories unto this time. (16)
That as it hath been driven at very cunningly and actively, by many
instruments and arguments of several sorts, so hath it gained ground piece
and piece, until at length many of them are brought into the court and to
the army and judicatories in the country. And now by the public
resolutions they are generally to be employed and intrusted. Thus the
design is accomplished. But, (17) These men do not satisfy themselves with
some degree of power, but endeavour to engross the whole power of the
kingdom into their own hands, and study to bring into contempt, and cull
out these who have been and do continue constant in the cause of God. (18)
That having power into their hands, they must act according to their own
principles and for establishing their own ends. And lastly, That these
principles and ends are destructive to the covenant and work of
reformation.
Section III.
That The Employing Of, And Associating With The Malignant Party, According
As Is Contained In The Public Resolutions, Is Sinful And Unlawful.
If there be in the land a malignant party of power and policy, and the
exceptions contained in the Act of Levy do comprehend but few of that
party, then there need be no more difficulty to prove, that the present
public resolutions and proceedings do import an association and
conjunction with a malignant party, than to gather a conclusion from clear
premises. But that such a conjunction is in itself sinful and unlawful,
and besides, a violation of our solemn oaths and engagements, a
backsliding from our principles and professions, and a walking contrary to
the whole tenor and current of our former resolutions and practices, is
now to be made manifest.
First: We reason from that constant, standing and perpetual rule, which
the Lord gives concerning the modelling and carnage of the armies of his
people in all their wars, Deut. xxiii. 9, “When the host goeth forth
against their enemies, then keep thee from every wicked thing.” And after,
“If there be among you any man that is unclean, by reason of uncleanness
that chanceth him by night, then shall he go abroad out of the camp, he
shall not come within the camp.” (If for ceremonial uncleanness he was to
be excluded, much more for moral, as our divines reason from the Old
Testament in the point of excommunication, and if for uncleanness not
voluntary, much more for voluntary wickedness). The reason of all is given
ver. 14: “For the Lord thy God walketh in the midst of the camp, to
deliver thee, and to give up thine enemies before thee. Therefore shall
thy camp be holy, that he see no unclean thing in thee, and turn away from
thee.” Even as they would expert a blessing of the Lord, so ought they to
keep their camp holy, as he is holy. He gives not such a strict rule for
the competency of number, as for the qualifications of the persons, as
being the principal thing. Therefore the present conjunction with so many
ungodly and wicked men, that have formerly declared themselves enemies to
God and his people, and to this day give no evidence to the contrary, is
sinful and unlawful.
Second, The Lord hath frequently in scripture declared his dislike and
hatred of such associations and conjunctions. The scriptures cited in the
General Assembly’s declaration in the year 1648, against the
Engagement,(349) are sufficient proof of this. We shall take the argument
as it is formed by the commissioners of that assembly, in their answer to
the observations of the committee of estates upon the assembly’s
declaration, p. 7. “Every engagement in war, that is pretended to be for
religion, and hath in it a confederacy and association with wicked men,
enemies of true religion, is sinful and unlawful. But the present
engagement in war, as it is held forth in the public resolutions, is
pretended to be for religion, and yet hath in it a confederacy and
conjunction with wicked men, and enemies of true religion.” Ergo, The
second proposition is evident from the two first sections.
The first proposition is proved from those scriptures forementioned. God
forbade conjunctions and confederacies with the enemies of his cause and
people, not only the Canaanites, (Exod. xxxiv. 12, 15, Deut. vii. 2.) and
other heathens, such was Asa his covenant with Benhadad, (2 Chron. xvi. to
ver. 10,) Ahaz his confederacy with the king of Assyria, (2 Kings xvi. 7,
10, 2 Chron. xxviii. 16,) but also with wicked men of the seed of Abraham,
as Jehoshaphat’s with Ahab, (2 Chron. xviii. 3: “And Ahab king of Israel
said unto Jehoshaphat king of Judah, Wilt thou go with me to Ramoth
Gilead? And he answered him, I am as thou art, and my people as thy
people, and we will be with thee in the war,” compared with chap. xix. 2.
“And Jehu the son of Hanam the seer, went out to meet him, and said to
king Jehoshaphat, Shouldst thou help the ungodly, and love them that hate
the Lord? therefore is wrath upon thee from before the Lord,”) and with
Ahaziah, (2 Chron. xx. 35: “And after this did Jehoshaphat king of Judah
join himself with Ahaziah king of Israel, who did very wickedly,”) which
being reproved for, he would not again join with Ahaziah, 1 Kings xxii.
49: “Then said Ahaziah the son of Ahab unto Jehoshaphat: Let my servants
go with thy servants in the ships.” But Jehoshaphat would not. And then
Amaziah’s association with 100,000 of Israel, 2 Chron. xxv. 7, 8, 9, 10:
“But there came a man of God to him, saying, O king, let not the army of
Israel go with thee for the Lord is not with Israel to wit, with all the
children of Ephraim. But if thou wilt go, do it, be strong for the battle.
God shall make thee fall before the enemy, for God hath power to help and
to cast down. And Amaziah said to the man of God, But what shall we do for
the hundred talents which I have given to the army of Israel? And the man
of God answered, The Lord is able to give thee much more than this. Then
Amaziah separated them, to wit, the army that was to come to him out of
Ephraim, to go home again wherefore their anger was greatly kindled
against Judah, and they returned home in great anger.” The sin and danger
of such associations may further appear from Isa. viii. 12, 13: “Say ye
not, A confederacy, to all them to whom this people shall say, A
confederacy, neither fear ye their fear, nor be afraid. Sanctify the Lord
of hosts himself, and let him be your fear, and let him be your dread,”
Jer. ii. 18 “And now,—what hast thou to do in the way of Assyria, to drink
the waters of the river?” Psal. cvi. 35. “But were mingled among the
heathen, and learned their works,” Hosea v. 13. “When Ephraim saw his
sickness, and Judah saw his wound, then went Ephraim to the Assyrian, and
sent to king Jareb, yet could he not heal you, nor cure you of your
wound,” and chap. vii. 8, 11. “Ephraim, he hath mixed himself among the
people, Ephraim is a cake not turned, Ephraim also is like a silly dove
without heart, they call to Egypt, they go to Assyria,” 2 Cor. vi. 14, 15.
“Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers, for what fellowship
hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light
with darkness? And what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath
he that believeth with an infidel?” And if we should esteem God’s enemies
our enemies, and hate them with perfect hatred, how can we then join with
them as friends? Psal. cxxxix. 21.
The committee of estates at that time endeavoured to elude the strength of
these scriptures, and vindicate their engagement from the falling within
the compass of them. But the commission of the Assembly that year took the
mask off their evasions. Would to God we had no other party to deal with
now! It was the evil and complaint of that time, that church and state
were divided. But what an evil time are we now fallen into, that the union
of those in this point, is the complaint of many of the godly? The
commission, in their letter to Stirling presbytery,(350) sets up the
committee’s answer in a new dress, and holds it out for satisfaction to
our consciences. All that is answered may be reduced to three or four
heads.
I. There is made a great difference between an invasive and defensive war
as if in the one, choice of instruments ought to be sought, but in the
case of just and necessary defence, all subjects may be employed.(351)
To which we answer, 1. That the scriptures cited conclude most expressly
against conjunctions of that kind in defensive wars. Such was Asa’s
covenant, such was Ahaz his confederacy. Were not the reproofs of the
prophets directed particularly against the people’s seeking of help from
Egypt and Assyria, in the case of their own just and necessary defence?
Jer. ii. 18, Hosea v. 13, and vii. 8, 11, Isa. viii. 12, 13, 2 Chron. xvi.
to ver. 10. 2. The law and rule given, Deut. xxiii. is general, regulating
all their wars whether defensive or offensive, and it is strange that any
should imagine such a difference where the law makes none, nay, when the
ground of the law is moral and general, equally respecting all wars. Is
there any ground of conscience, why wicked persons may not be kept in the
camp when we invade others, and yet these may be employed and intrusted
when we defend ourselves? If there be any reason to prefer the one to the
other in this point, we conceive defensive war should have the preference,
because when the Lord brings upon us an unjust invasion, he is ordinarily
pursuing a controversy against us. And therefore we ought to be most
tender and circumspect, that there be no unclean thing in the camp, and
put away every wicked thing from us, even the appearance of evil, lest we
add oil to the flame of his indignation, and he seeing such an unclean
thing in us, turn yet further from us, except we say, that we need not
take care to have God in the camp with us, when we are upon just and
necessary defence, seeing our cause is so good. 3. There is more hazard
and danger to our religion and liberties in having a wicked malignant army
at home among us, than abroad in another nation. While they are here, they
have the power of the sword, and can command all, but there might be some
hope and endeavour for vindicating our own liberties and religion while
they are abroad, as it fell out in the time of the Engagement.
II. It is answered, that there is a difference between this case and the
Engagement, because there was then no necessity of choosing such
instruments, a competency of power might be had, but now it is not so, and
therefore the scriptures mentioned do not militate against the present
case. _Answer 1_. The scriptures cited will obviate this. What made Israel
and Judah run to Egypt and Assyria for help, but their weakness and
necessity? Their wound was incurable, and their bruise grievous, as
Jeremiah often laments, and particularly chap. viii. 20-22, and x. 19,
&c., and yet this did not excuse them for going to Egypt or Assyria to
heal their wound, Hosea v. 13, and vii. 8, 11. The scripture holds out
infidelity and distrust in God as the ground of such association, (2
Chron. xvi. 7-9, Isa. viii. 12, 13,) which proceeds from the incompetency
of means as the occasion of it. 2. Suppose there was a necessity for the
calling forth the body of the common people, yet certainly there is no
necessity of employing any such persons of whom the question is, and
putting them in places of trust. There is none can deny but there are,
besides all secluded persons, many that might fill the places of trust and
power. Therefore the plea of necessity is but a pretence to cover some
design, that under its specious and plausible covering, the power of the
land may be engrossed into the hands of malignants, and so by this means
all power and trust may return, as the rivers to the sea or fountain, as
they judge the king, that so in his person there may be established an
unlimited and arbitrary power. 3. Necessity is a very plausible argument
and strong plea to carnal reason for any thing, but it cannot be a good
ground, in point of conscience, for that which is sinful in itself. Now
that this is sinful in itself appears, from the word of God simply
condemning such associations, upon moral, and so general and perpetual
grounds. Now, in such a case of necessity, we are called either to trust
in God, in the use of competent means, seeing in such cases we have so
many promises, or if all help be gone which God allows us to make use of,
we must wait on him till he brings salvation with his own arm.
But because the plea of necessity is the strongest that is made use of for
the present public resolutions, we must consider it a little more. It is
alleged, that the best part of the land is under the feet of the enemy,
and so no help can be had from it, and for other parts of the land which
are yet free, there is not much choice of persons, and the testimony of
faithful men in the state declares, that when all that are called forth of
these places are gathered, it cannot amount to a power competent enough,
and therefore in such a question of the existence of second means, the
knowledge whereof immediately depends on sense and experience, these who
are not acquainted should give credit to the testimony of faithful
witnesses, and that a competency of power must be had, according to the
ordinary way of Providence, in relation to which we must act, except we
would tempt God by requiring of him wonders.(352)
_Answer._ Suppose the enemy’s army to consist of 20,000 or above, are
there not more fencible persons in the shires on the north side of Forth?
Believe it who please we cannot stop our own consciences, and put out our
own eyes. Let the rolls of several shires be looked to, and it shall
confute that testimony. Nay, are there not more persons not formerly
secluded, in all those shires? What meant the levy appointed immediately
after Dunbar? Was not 10,000 foot, and 1,400 horse put upon these shires
which are not under the power of the enemy, and yet the rules of exclusion
were not abandoned? Now all these, or most part of them, are yet in the
country not levied. Money was taken instead of men, the levies obstructed
so that there was little addition to the strength of the forces that
remained, the forces diverted by the insurrection of the malignants in the
north, at the King’s command or warrant,—all which hath such pregnant
presumption of a design carried on to necessitate the kingdom to employ
that party, by the cunning politicians of the time, by obstructing the
levies, raising the malignants, and then pacifying them by an act of
indemnity, and at last openly and avowedly associating with them. Thus the
design is accomplished which was long since on foot.
2. If satisfying courses had been studied by the public judicatories to
carry on all the godly in the land with their resolutions, there had
accrued strength from the parts of the land be south Forth, which would
have compensated all that competency of power that the conjunction of the
malignants makes up and, it may be, would have been more blessed of God.
3. If there be no help required nor expected from those parts of the
kingdom be south Forth, wherefore did the commission write to the
presbyteries in those bounds that they might concur actively in their
stations for the furtherance of the levies, and choose ministers to go out
with them?
III. It is answered. That the confederacies reproved were unlawful,
because they were either with heathens, or with idolaters, strangers, and
foreigners. This is answered to the case of Amaziah, &c., and so it seems
not to make against the present case, the employing all subjects in the
just and necessary defence of the kingdom.(353)
_Answer 1_. This answer at one blow cuts off all the strength of the
General Assembly’s reason against the association with malignants in that
year. There might be some few persons idolaters, but there was no party
and faction such, and yet they can deny association with the English
malignants from those scriptures, yea not only with them but with our own
countrymen that were in rebellion with James Graham, who were neither
idolaters nor foreigners. We need no other answer than the Commission at
that time give to the committee of estates using that same evasion, pg.
10, 11. 2. The ground and reason whereupon such associations are
condemned, is more general and comprehensive. Jehoshaphat was reproved
for joining with Ahab, because he was “ungodly, and hated the Lord,” which
is properly in our terms, because he was a malignant and profane man. It
was a strange mocking of scripture to restrict ungodliness, in that place,
to the sin of idolatry. Confederacy with the Canaanites and other nations
was forbidden on this ground, “that the people be not insnared, and learn
not their works.” Now, is not the company of, and communion with ungodly
men, of the same general profession, but mockers and haters of the power
thereof, as infectious and insnaring? Nay, it is more apt to insnare
because of the profession. Paul would have as much distance kept with a
brother walking unorderly as a pagan. For such a one as walks contrary to
his profession of the true religion, does evidence more ungodliness and
wickedness, than an ignorant and superstitious papist that walks precisely
according to his profession. There is some principle of conscience
stirring in the one, but it is seared in the other with a hot iron. God
ranks such, who are uncircumcised in heart, with the uncircumcised in
flesh. Ought not his people to do so too? 3. The rule of modelling armies
and purging the camp is most comprehensive, Deut. xxiii. Not only
idolaters and foreigners, but every wicked thing and unclean thing, was to
be removed out of the camp. Now, seeing those examples are transgressions
of this law, what reason is there to make the only ground of reproving and
condemning of them to be, because idolaters were associated with, as if
any other might be joined with, that is not an idolater? 4. That reason
against Amaziah’s conjunction with Israel is wrested, by some expounding
it thus God is not with them, is not understood, in regard of a state of
grace, as appears, nor in regard of God’s prospering providence, because
he was often with them in that regard but it must be understood in regard
of an idolatrous profession. But we reply, that it is true it is not
understood in regard of a state of grace, nor simply in regard of his
prospering providence, but _ut plurimum_,(354) the Lord for the most part
crossing them till they were cut off from being a nation. But especially
it is to be meant in regard of a course opposite to God, according as the
Lord speaks, 2 Chron. xv. 2. “The Lord is with you while ye be with him,
but if ye forsake him he will forsake you.” If any will restrict this to
idolatry, he hath no ground from scripture for such a limitation, but
being engaged in the business, he wrests the scriptures to his own
destruction. Sure we are, there are many palpable forsakings of God, and
God’s forsaking of men, beside idolatry and false worship. 5. That which
is said “That God did not command Amaziah to dismiss any of his own
subjects.” Either it makes not much to the present business, or else it
strikes against the law of God itself, that commanded such strict purging
of the camp. From whom I pray you? Certainly from wicked Israelites, from
wicked countrymen. Therefore, if there was any such among the men of
Judah, he ought to have put them out of the army as well as the
Israelites. Nay, the command of dismissing the Israelites, was, really and
upon the matter, a command to purge his camp of all that was of the stamp
of the Israelites. It is strange that the civil difference of strangers
and citizens should make such difference in the point of conscience. Ought
we not to hate the Lord’s enemies with a perfect hatred, not as
Englishmen, not as strangers, but as enemies? Levi knew not his brother.
This was his honour. But many now for respect to their brethren, know not
God. It is the moral quality that the law of God respects, without respect
of persons and countries. To be a citizen, if not qualified, doth no more
plead for employment, _in foro conscientiæ_(355) and before God, than to
be a stranger and qualified doth impede trust and employment _in foro
conscientiæ_ and before God.
IV. It may be answered (and it is by some), That those scriptures plead,
that there should be no conjunction with wicked men in a quarrel of
religion, but seeing our present business is the defence of the kingdom,
all subjects, as subjects, stand in capacity of employment for that end,
though in reference to the defence of religion there must be a choice.
_Answer 1_. The Commission have vindicated themselves in a letter to
Stirling presbytery from that imputation, that it is said, they state the
quarrel and cause merely upon civil things in the answer to the
parliament’s query.(356) But certainly there is just ground given to these
that are watching for any such thing to state the cause so, because they
do, contrary to all former custom and practice, mention the defence of the
kingdom only, as it had been of purpose to make the employing of all
members of the body or subjects of the kingdom for its defence more
plausible. But we answer to the point. The associations and conjunctions
that are condemned in the cited scriptures are some of them for civil
quarrels so far as we know, some of them in the point of just and
necessary defence of the kingdom, and yet that doth not justify them. 2.
The rule given them, Deut. xxiii., was regulating all their wars and
clearly holds forth, that all subjects as subjects and members of the
politic body, though as such there is an obligation lying on them to
defend the whole, yet are not in actual and nearest capacity to the
performance of that duty, if they be wicked and unclean. And the reason
is, because the Lord would have the wars of his people his own wars, and
all that they do, to his glory, Num. xxi. 14. 2 Chron. xx. 15, Col. iii.
17. More especially in such solemn undertakings, there ought to be a
difference between his people, acting for self defence, and other nations.
3. Although the defence of the kingdom and defence of the cause, be
different in themselves, yet are they inseparable. Whoever is intrusted
with the defence of the kingdom really and _de facto_,(357) he is _eo
ipso_(358) intrusted with the defence of the cause. Therefore the people
of God, who ought always to have religion first in their eye, ought,
especially in raising forces for self preservation, to level at religion,
and direct the choice of instruments in relation to that mark, that they
destroy not Christians, while they save subjects and preserve our bodies
to destroy our souls.
Third Reason. That which is dissonant from and contrary unto all our
former resolutions and proceedings, oaths and engagements, confessions and
humiliations, must needs be most unlawful, or they themselves, as to that
point, were unlawful. But the present resolutions and proceedings are
dissonant from, and contrary to all these. Ergo, either our present or our
former resolutions and practices were unlawful, either we were wrong
before, or we are not right now. The second proposition maybe made
manifest from, 1. The present resolutions are contrary to the solemn
league and covenant in the fourth article and the sixth,—to the fourth,
because we put power in the hands of a malignant party, power of the
sword, which is inconsistent in the own nature of it with either actual
punishing of them, or endeavouring to bring them to punishment, unless it
be intended to bring them all forth, and expose them to the slaughter for
a sacrifice for the land, which may be the Lord’s mind indeed, howbeit
they know not his thoughts,—and to the sixth article, because it is a
declining to the contrary party, even that party against whom the covenant
was at the making expressly contrived. And as the declaration of the
General Assembly 1648, hath it, it is a joining with one enemy to beat
another, with a black devil to beat a white.(359)
It is most ingeniously answered, that the present resolutions are not
contrary to the covenant, because such as are described in the covenant
are not allowed to be employed, meaning that these men are not now
malignants. What needs men make such a compass to justify the public
resolutions, seeing there is so easy and ready a way straight at hand?
This one answer might take off all the arguments made against them, that
there is no malignant party now, which is the foundation that being
removed all the building must fall to the ground. But we have in the first
article evinced that, which had been scandalous to have proved, if it had
not been questioned. If it were indeed true, that no malignants are
allowed to be employed, what need the Commission in their letter to
Stirling presbytery take so much pains from scripture and reason to
justify the present resolutions, when the clearing of that one point had
cleared all? As for the declaration of the Assembly, anno 1648, it is
answered, _that none are to be employed, that continue notourly_(360)_ in
the courses of malignancy_, which was done that year. Whereas the
malignant party that was then associated with, would have engaged to be
faithful to all the ends of the covenant, many of them were such as had
been in covenant, and made show of their repentance for their defection
from it; and so there is no difference in this particular.
2. The Solemn Acknowledgment of public sins is so clear and peremptory in
this that it makes us tremble to think on it. _Page 6_, “Should we again
break his commandments and covenant, by joining any more in affinity with
the people of these abominations, and take in our bosom these serpents,
which have formerly stung us almost to death? This, as it would argue much
folly and madness, so, no doubt, it would provoke the Lord to consume us
till there be no remnant, nor escaping.” Let the 6th article also be
considered.(361) Join to this the Declaration of the commission, upon
report of this enemy’s invading, _p. 6_ where it is declared, that
malignants shall not be associated with, nay, not countenanced and
permitted to be in our armies. The General Assembly after this, upon the
enemy’s entry into Scotland, gives serious warning to the rulers, to take
heed of snares from that party and that the rather, because men ordinarily
are so taken with the sense of danger, as not to look back to that which
is behind them, &c. How often have we sentenced ourselves unto wrath and
consumption if we shall fall into this sin again? All these and the like,
are endeavoured to be taken off, by saying that our engagements in this
point were conceived in a way of prosecution of the cause, but to be no
impediment of the just and necessary defence, which we are bound to by
nature’s law, which no human law can infringe.
But we reply, (1) It is strange, our prosecution of the cause these years
past should be contradistinguished from the defence of it and the kingdom.
It was conceived that our war in England was defensive, not invasive, that
it was necessitated for the defence even of our kingdom, but it seems it
is now questioned. But passing what was acted abroad, certainly all our
wars at home were merely defensive, both against unjust invasion and
seditious insurrections. Now our solemn engagements were conceived, in
relation to our actings at home especially, and modelling our armies for
the defence of our liberties and religion. We know well enough that a
just invasive war is a rare accident in the world, and that the flock of
Jesus Christ is for the most part, obnoxious to the violence of others, as
sheep among wolves, but are not often called to prey upon others. (2) To
call our solemn engagements and declarations grounded upon our oaths and
the word of God, human laws and constitutions that must cede to nature’s
law, is indeed ingenious dealing, because to justify the present
proceedings, there can be no more expedite way than to condemn bypast
resolutions for the peremptoriness of them, and to make them grounded on
politic considerations, which are alterable, but it imports a great change
of principles. We conceive that all human laws that are not for the matter
grounded on the word of God, that oblige not conscience, but in the case
of scandal and in regard of the general end, are alterable and changeable,
whenever they come in opposition to the law of nature, self defence, and
the law of God written in his word. And therefore that act of parliament,
mentioned by the Commission, discharging all subjects from rising without
the king’s command, which was made use of against our first taking arms,
was no ways binding on the subjects not to rise in defence of their
religion and liberties when in hazard.(362) And we wonder that that law
should be compared to our solemn engagements, which are grounded upon
oaths and God’s word, as touching the very matter and substance of them,
as if our engagements did no more bind us now, in case of defence, than
that law did bind us then. Royalists might be excused for preferring the
king’s will to God’s, but we cannot be pardoned for equalizing them; and
especially while we consider that that forementioned act undoubtedly hath
been intended for the establishing of an arbitrary and absolute power in
the king’s hand, that the subjects may not have liberty to save
themselves, except the king will. Where God hath given us liberty by the
law of nature, or his word, no king can justly tie us, and when God binds
and obliges us by any of these, no king or parliament can loose or untie
us. (3) The Declaration of the Commission and Assembly upon this invasion,
renews the same bond of our former engagements, yea, and speaks expressly
in the case of fewness and scarceness of instruments, against the unbelief
of people that are ready in danger to choose any help.(363) Therefore that
which is said in answer, that at that time there was a choice of
instruments which now is not, may indeed condemn and falsify the
declarations at that time, in the supposition of the paucity of
instruments, and in the application of that doctrine and divine truth to
that time, but it doth not speak any thing against the application of that
truth therein contained to our time, it being more manifest, that we have
greater necessity and less choice of instruments, and so in greater hazard
of unbelief, and overlooking what is behind us.
3. It is of all considerations the most confounding, to reflect upon our
former humiliations and fasts. How often hath it been confessed to God, as
the predominant public sin of Scotland, countenancing and employing the
malignant party? But when we call particularly to mind the first solemn
fast after the defeat at Dunbar, astonishment takes hold on us, to think,
that is now defended as a duty, which, but some months ago, was solemnly
confessed as a sin. The not purging of the army, the obstructing of that
work, and great inclinations to keep in and fetch in such persons, and the
repining at, and crying out against all that was done in the contrary,
were then reckoned as the great causes of God’s wrath, and his sad stroke
upon us. What distraction may this breed in the hearts of the people of
the land to hear that same thing complained of as a great sin to day, and
commended as a necessary duty to morrow? Is not all the land presently
called to mourn for the king’s sins, of which this is one, the designing a
conjunction with the malignant party, and giving them warrant to rise in
arms for the defence of the kingdom? Now, how shall they be able to
reconcile these in their own minds,—at the same time to mourn for that as
a sin in the king, which they hear commended as the duty of the
parliament—to fast to day for that as the king’s sin, which they must go
about to morrow as their own duty? “Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in
Askelon, lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice.” Heathens may rise
in judgment against this generation _Semper idem velle atque idem nolle
hæc demum sapientia est._(364) If any wise man be _ubique et semper sibi
par et idem_,(365) what ought a godly man to be?
Fourth Reason. That which is an uncertain mean of preservation of the
kingdom, and a more certain mean of destruction of religion, is utterly
unlawful. But the employing and intrusting of all men promiscuously,
according as is holden out in the public resolutions, is at best an
uncertain mean of the preservation of the kingdom, and is a more certain
mean of the destruction of religion. _Ergo_, It is utterly unlawful. The
first proposition cannot be denied. When any less good comes in opposition
with a greater good, the lesser good in that respect becomes evil. We may
not endanger certainly a greater good for the probable and uncertain
attainment of the lesser. The second proposition I know will be denied, as
it was denied in the time of the engagement by the committee of estates.
They said, the danger of religion was not infallible, that it might
eventually fall out so, but not by any casualty. And thus it is pleaded
now, that the danger of religion is not inevitable, but that the danger of
the kingdom is certain and so these being laid in the balance together, we
ought, to eschew a certain danger of the kingdom’s destruction, rather
hazard a probable danger of religion.
But we shall clear this and confirm the reason. 1. The danger of the
kingdom is indeed great, but it is not so certain and inevitable in case
of not employing the malignant party, because there may be some competency
of power beside. Now the delivery and preservation of the kingdom from
this danger, by conjunction with that party, is rather improbable, because
we have sentenced ourselves to destruction if ever we should do such a
thing again. We are standing under a curse, whereto we have bound over
ourselves, and beside, God is in a special manner pursuing that
generation, and hath raised up this enemy for their destruction so that we
may with greater probability expect to partake of their plagues, and to
fall under our own curse, than to be delivered, or be instruments of
deliverance to the kingdom. Or, at the best, it is uncertain. For what is
more uncertain than the event of war? The battle in this sense may be said
peculiarly to belong to the Lord. Now, on the other hand, the danger of
religion is certain and inevitable, though not simply in itself and
absolutely, (because the Lord doth in heaven and earth what he pleases,)
yet with a moral certainty and infallibility, which is often as great as
physical certainty. Suppose these men having the power of the sword,
prevail, will they not employ it according to their principles, and for
attaining their own ends, which both are destructive to religion? What is
more certain than that men act and speak from the abundance of the heart,
when there is no outward restraint? It should be a great wonder if they
who are so accustomed to do evil, should cease to do evil, when they have
power and convenience to do it. Power and greatness hath corrupted many
good men. Shall it convert them? Can men expect other fruits from a tree
than the nature of it yields? Will one seek figs on thorns, or grapes on
thistles? 2. We do not see what defence it can be, for the present, to the
kingdom, at least the godly and well affected in the kingdom, who will be
as much troubled in their persons and estates by that party, as by the
common enemy. It is known what threatenings the country is filled with,
which vent that inveterate malice and hatred to all the well affected in
the kingdom, which they have kept within their breast of a long time and
now they find opportunity of outing it. It is as clear as daylight, that
the most part of all the secluded persons look upon these that opposed
them in the Engagement, and shut them out of places of trust, and capacity
of employment, as enemies, and as great enemies as the secretaries. And
that we may know what to expect when they have full power in their hands
they have already so lifted up their head, that no godly man can promise
himself security in many places, and especially the faithful gentlemen and
people of the West,(366) who have given more proof of their faithfulness
to the cause and kingdom against the common enemy, than any others in the
land, yet are they daily suffering violence from these preservators of the
kingdom, while they are sufferers under the feet of the enemy. When they
have no common enemy, whom, I beseech you, will they prey upon, seeing
they do it already while they have an enemy?
But it is replied, That none of the least suspicion are allowed to be in
such trust and power, as may be prejudicial to religion, and that an oath
is to be taken of all, which is to be conceived as particular, binding,
and strict as possible.
_Answer 1_. What a manifest receding is it from former principles, that it
is now conceived, that all places of trust, excepting some few of eminent
note, may be filled with secluded and debarred persons, without the
prejudice of religion! It is certain that most part of the officers,
nominated by the parliament and shires, are not only such, of whom there
is just ground of suspicion, but such as have been enemies by actual
opposition to the cause of God, or known underminers thereof. Can it be
said in good earnest, that none, of whom is any suspicion, shall have such
trust as may be prejudicial? Sure we are, there are many just grounds of
suspicion and jealousy of general persons,(367) who have chief trust in
our armies and this the public judicatories are not ignorant of. 2. Oaths
and covenants are but like green cords about Samson to bind these men.
Would we have them yet once again perjured? Then may we tender an oath to
them. Put power in their hand, and then make them swear to employ it well.
’Tis as ridiculous as to give a madman a sword, and then persuade him to
hurt none with it. There is no more capitulation with such persons,
retaining their old principles, than with the floods or winds. These whom
that sacred bond of covenant hath not tied, what oath can bind? Except you
can change their nature, do not swear them to good behaviour. Can a
leopard change his spots?
Fifth Reason. That which gives great offence and scandal, and lays a
stumbling-block in the way, both of the people of the land and our
enemies, especially in the way of the godly, that is unlawful. But the
present association and conjunction with all persons in the kingdom
(excepting a few, if any) is scandalous and offensive to the whole land,
to the godly especially, and also to the enemy. Therefore it is unlawful.
The _major_(368) is beyond all exception, if we consider how peremptory
Christ and his apostles are in the point of offence, which yet few
Christians do consider. We ought not only to beware of the offence of the
godly, but even of wicked men, even of our blaspheming enemies. “Give no
offence neither to the Jew nor Gentile, nor to the church of God.” Christ
would not offend and scandalize his malicious enemies. The _minor_(369) is
proved. 1. There is great offence given to the godly in the kingdom by the
public resolutions, concerning that conjunction with the malignant party,
under the name and notion of subjects. (1) Because it is known that the
most part of them are tender in that point, what fellowship they act with,
and this hath been remonstrate unto the commission and committee of
estates, from several synods. Now the present resolution layeth that
stumbling block in their way, that they cannot act in the defence of the
kingdom, because there is no way left them for the performing of that
duty, but that which they in their consciences are not satisfied with. It
is a sad necessity and snare that is put upon them, that they cannot
perform their bound duty, which they are most desirous of, without sin,
because of the way that is taken. (2) Is it not matter of offence and
stumbling to them, to be necessitated by law to that which was their
affliction? The mixture that was in our armies was their grief, and their
comfort was that the judicatories were minting at(370) their duty to purge
them. But now there is no hope of attaining that, all doors are shut up by
the public resolutions. (3) It undoubtedly will weaken their hands, and
make their hearts faint, so that they cannot pray with affection and in
faith, for a blessing upon such an army,(371) the predominant and leading
part whereof have been esteemed, and are really enemies to God and his
people. (4) Is it not a great offence that any thing should proceed from
the public judicatories that shall lay a necessity upon many godly in the
land, to suffer, because they cannot in conscience go along with it?
_Next_, It scandalizeth the whole land. What may they think within
themselves, to see such dissonancy and disagreement between present and
former resolutions and practices? What may they judge of this inconstancy
and levity of the commission, and thus be induced to give no respect and
reverence to them in their resolutions? Is it not, at least, a very great
appearance of evil to join with that party, that we did declare and
repute, but some few weeks since, to be wicked enemies of religion and the
kingdom, and look henceforth on them as friends without so much as any
acknowledgment of their sin had from them? Shall not they be induced to
put no difference between the precious and the vile, not to discern
between him that fears God and him that fears him not, when the public
resolutions put no difference? Then, how will it confirm all the malignant
party in their wickedness? May they not think our solemn vows and
engagements, our rigid resolutions and proceedings, were but all contrived
and acted out of policy, and that interest and advantage, and not
conscience, principled them? Have they not an occasion given them to
persecute all the godly, and vent their long harboured malice against
these who have been most zealous for reformation and purging of the land?
Nay, they are put in the capacity that they have desired, for acting all
their resolutions and accomplishing their designs. And last of all, the
present proceedings will not only encourage and animate the common enemy,
but confirm them in all the imputations and calumnies they have loaded our
church with. May they not have ground to think, that we are but driving on
a politic design, and do not singly aim at God’s glory,—that it is not
grounds of conscience that act us, but some worldly interest, when they
look upon the inconstancy and changeableness of our way and course, which
is so accommodated to occasions and times? Can they think us men of
conscience, that will join with all these men of blood, before we will so
much as speak with them? It is replied, that the scandal is taken, and not
given, which must not be stood upon in the case of a necessary duty. But,
1. We cleared, that there is no necessity of that conjunction, therefore
the scandal is given, seeing it is known beforehand that it will be taken.
2. There are many grounds of offence given by the present resolutions, as
appears by what is said. If it were no more, it is a great appearance of
evil, it is very inductive of many evils, a most fit occasion of all that
is spoken, and besides, it is in itself sinful, contrary to God’s word,
and our oaths.
Sixth Reason. That which makes glad all the wicked and enemies of God in
the land, and sad many, if not most part, of the godly, hath much
appearance and evidence, if not certainty, of evil. But the public
resolutions and proceedings are such. _Ergo_,—Or thus—That which makes
glad all the wicked, and heightens the hopes and expectations of the
malignant party, and makes sad none almost but the godly, and discourages
their spirits, that, proceeding from the public judicatories, cannot be
right and lawful. But so it is, that that which proceeds from the public
judicatories makes glad all the hearts of the wicked, and makes sad none
almost but the godly, heightens the hopes of the malignants, and makes
them say, their day is coming, “lo we have seen it,” and discourages the
godly, and makes them almost say, “Our hope is cut off, our glory is
departed.” _Ergo_, It cannot be right, at least it hath a great and
convincing appearance of evil.
This argument may be thought more popular than either philosophical or
scriptural. But such an argument the General Assembly, 1648, made use of
against the Engagement. It is no ways imaginable, how the wicked and
ungodly in the land would so insult and rejoice in this day, if they saw
not some legible characters upon it, which were agreeable to their own
principles and ends. The children of God are, for the most part, led by
the Spirit of God, and taught the way they should choose, John xvi. 13,
Psal. xxv. 12. So that readily they do not skunner(372) at courses
approven of God. But the children of the world being, at best, led by
their own carnal minds and senses and, for the most part, acted by a
spirit of disobedience and enmity against God, they use not to rejoice at
things that do not suit with their carnal hearts, and are not engraven
with the character of that which is imprinted in their spirits. We see now
that the wicked walk on every side, when the vilest men are exalted. And
when the wicked rise, the righteous is hidden, and when they bear rule,
the people mourneth, but when righteous men are in authority, the people
do rejoice, and when the righteous rejoiceth, there is great glory, Ps.
xii. 8, Prov. xxviii. 12, and xxix. 2.
Seventh Reason. That which is the accomplishment and perfecting of the
malignant design that hath been driven on these years past, especially
since the Unlawful Engagement, cannot be a course approven of God. But the
present course is the accomplishment of that design. _Ergo_, That there
hath been a design, for a long time driven and endeavoured, both at home
and abroad, with much policy and industry, by many turnings and windings,
and by arguments of several kinds, as the exigence of the times did
furnish,—and that the design was, to have all such persons in trust and
power again, who had been secluded, that so they might compass their own
ends—hath not been denied hitherto and we are persuaded no man that fears
God and observes the times, is ignorant of it. Let the public papers of
the treaty at Breda,(373) and the public papers of this kingdom and church
at home, be consulted. They bear witness for us. Was not the foundation of
it laid in Holland, and many of them in both nations, brought home with
the king contrary to public resolutions, and by the prevailing influence
of some in the state, kept in the kingdom, contrary to public resolutions?
Was not the work of purging judicatories and armies obstructed, the godly
discountenanced and discouraged, great endeavours used to raise the
malignants in the South and in England, and, since the defeat, to raise
all without exception in the North, but when that could not be obtained,
by the withstanding of honest men in the state? The levies appointed,
which would have been a considerable force for the defence of the kingdom,
were rendered wholly ineffectual, partly by taking money for men, partly
by raising the malignant party, and then pretending to go against them,
they were pacified by an act of indemnity the fruit and result of all
which is, this present conjunction with them, and putting the power of
judicatories and armies in their hand. Thus the design is completed.
Eighth Reason. That which will increase the Lord’s indignation and
controversy against the land yet seven times more, that is very unlawful
and unseasonable. But so it is that confederacy and association with the
people of these abominations, will increase the Lord’s indignation and
controversy seven times more. _Ergo_, The assumption was as manifest and
uncontroverted as the proposition, a few months ago, but it is begun now
to be questioned by some, _qui quod sciunt nesciunt, quia sapiunt_(374)
But we shall evince it. 1. We are standing under such a sentence, which we
deliberately and sincerely passed upon ourselves, in the days of our vows
to God, that if we did ever any more join with the people of these
abominations, the Lord would consume us till there was no remnant. And
this was not done in rashness but in sobriety, and with a scripture
precedent, Ezra ix. 12, 13. 2. Our experience hath made this clear to us,
we never did mingle ourselves among them, but the Lord did pursue us with
indignation, and stamped that sin, as in vive(375) characters, upon our
judgment. God hath set upon that rock, that we have so oft split upon, a
remarkable beacon. Therefore we do not only in our solemn engagements,
bind ourselves over to a curse, in case of relapsing, but pass the
sentence of great madness and folly on ourselves. _Piscator ictu
sapit_.(376) Experience makes fools wise, but it cannot cure madness. Did
not that mixture provoke God at Dunbar?(377) And is this the way to
appease him, to revolt more and more? 3. Conjunction and confederacy with
that party, doth necessarily infer a communion in blessings and plagues,
we must cast in our lot with them, and have all one purse. Now it hath
been confessed and declared by this church, that God hath a notable
controversy with that party, that this enemy is in an eminent way to bear
them down and crush them. Therefore if we join with them, we must resolve
to partake of their plagues, and have that controversy pleaded against us
also.
It is answered, That indignation need not be feared simply on this
account, because the means are lawful and necessary, else, if this have
any force, it will conclude, that we should lie down and do nothing,
because God’s indignation is upon the whole land.
But we reply, 1. Though it be true, that this enemy is the rod of God’s
indignation against the whole land, yet it is certain to us, and hath been
formerly unquestioned, that they are raised up in a special way, to
execute God’s wrath on malignants, and God doth arm them with power in a
signal manner for that end. Besides, the Lord’s anger and indignation
against his enemies is such, as will burn and none can quench it. It is of
another nature than his wrath against his own people, which is a hiding of
his face for a moment. He corrects us in measure and judgment, but leaves
us not altogether unpunished. But he makes an end of other nations
especially these that rise up to actual enmity and hatred of his people,
and shedding of their blood. And therefore, if any man would not meet with
wrath and sore displeasure, he would stand at a distance with such as God
hath appointed for destruction, we mean, as long as they carry in their
foreheads the mark of the beast. When God hath such a remarkable
controversy against a people, then “he that helpeth and he that is helped
shall both fall together,” Isa. xxxi. 3. All that is in league with them,
shall fall with them by the sword, Ezek. xxx. 5 and xxxii. 21. 2. Since it
is known that the malignant party have not changed their principles, and
so they cannot but in prosecuting this war establish their old quarrel and
follow it viz. the king’s arbitrary power, the interest of man above
God’s, or the kingdom’s interest, we leave it to be judged impartially,
whether or not these that associate with them, do espouse that quarrel and
interest, at least expose themselves to all that wrath and indignation,
which hath hitherto followed that quarrel, seeing they must have common
blessings and curses. Will not that quarrel holden up by most part of the
army, be a wicked thing, an Achan in the camp, that will make God turn
away from it, and put Israel to shame?
Having thus established the truth, in the next place, we come to take off
what objections are made to the contrary.
First: It is argued from human authority. The uncontroverted and universal
practice of all nations in all generations, is, to employ all subjects in
the case of necessary just defence. It was the practice of our reformers,
who took into the congregation, and received all that, upon acknowledgment
of their error, were willing to join, though they had been on the contrary
faction. Such an universal practice of Christian nations, though it be not
the ground of our faith, yet it is apparent that it cannot want reason for
it.(378)
_Answer 1_: This will plead as much against the exceptions added in the
answer to the query and act of levy, for seeing other nations except none,
in the case of necessary defence, why should we except any? And if once we
except any upon good and convincing grounds, upon the same ground we ought
to except far more. 2: Mr. Gillespie, in his Treatise of Miscellany
Questions,(379) makes mention that the city of Strasburg, 1529, made a
defensive league with Zurich, Berne, and Basil; because they were not only
neighbours, but men of the same religion. And the Elector of Saxony
refused to take into confederacy those who differed from him in the point
of the Lord’s supper, lest such sad things should befall him, as befell
these in Scripture, who used any means of their own defence. This rule was
good _in thesi_,(380) though in that case misapplied. Now then, if they
made conscience of choosing as the means of their own defence, a
confederacy with foreigners, may not the same ground lead us to a distance
from our own countrymen, as unqualified, who have nothing to commend them
but that they are of the same nation, which is nothing in point of
conscience? 3: The practice of other nations that are not tender in many
greater points, cannot be very convincing, especially, when we consider
that the Lord hath made light to arise, in this particular, more bright
than in former times. God hath taken occasion of illustrating and
commending many truths unto us in this generation, from the darkness of
error, and of making straight many rules, from the crookedness of men’s
practice and walking. Is not the Lord now performing the promise of
purging out the rebels from among us and them that transgress? God hath
winked at former times of ignorance. But now, the Lord having cleared his
mind so to us, how great madness were it to forsake our own mercy, and
despise the counsel of God against our own souls? (1) As for that instance
of our reformers there could not have been any thing brought more
prejudicial to that cause, and more advantageous for us. After they were
twice beaten by the French in Leith, and their forces scattered, and the
leaders and chief men of the congregation forced to retire to Stirling,
John Knox, preaching upon the eightieth Psalm, and searching the causes of
God’s wrath against them, condescends upon this as the chief cause, that
they had received into their councils and forces such men as had formerly
opposed the congregation, and says, God never blest them since the Duke
had come among them. See Knox’s Chron.(381) (2) It cannot be showed that
ever they took in a party and faction of such men, but only some few
persons, which, though it was not altogether justifiable, was yet more
excusable. But now the public resolutions hold forth a conjunction with
all the bloody murderers in the kingdom (excepting very few), and these
without profession of repentance in many, and without evidence of the
reality of it almost in any. (3) These persons were not such as had once
joined with the congregation, and relapsed and became enemies to it, but
they turned to the protestant religion from popery. But ours is a
different case.
Second. It is argued from scripture. Three scripture instances are brought
to justify the present proceedings. The first instance is from the
practice of God’s people in the book of Judges, who, when for defection
from religion they were brought under oppression, yet when any governor
was raised by God for their defence, they gathered and came all out
promiscuously, notwithstanding a great part of them had been in the
defection. Yet it is not found that their governors are reproved for this,
but rather sad curses on them that came not out to the work, Judges v. 15,
16, 17, 23. The second instance is from the story of the kings, very like
the first. When, after defection, gracious reforming kings arose, and had
to do against foreign invasion, we find them not debarring any subjects,
but calling them out promiscuously. Neither is this laid to their charge,
that they called out such and such subjects, though we may perceive by the
story of the prophets, that the greater part of the body of the people
were wicked, &c.
We answer to these two instances jointly. 1. We may by the like reason
prove, that which is as yet uncontroverted (we know not how long), that we
ought at no time to make choice of instruments, neither in case of
prosecution of the cause and the invasion of others, nor yet in the time
when choice is to be had, and so, that all our former engagements,
resolutions, and proceedings, in the point of purging judicatories and
armies, was superfluous and supererogatory, because we read not that the
reforming kings and judges, whenever they had an invasive war, and in the
times that they had greatest plenty and multitudes of people, did ever
debar any of their subjects from that service, but called them out
promiscuously. Neither is this laid to their charge, though we may
perceive that the greater part of the people were wicked under the best
kings. Therefore we may lawfully employ any subjects of the kingdom in any
of our wars. And we may look upon all indifferently, without any
discerning of persons that fear God and them that fear him not, as in good
capacity to be intrusted, even when otherwise we have choice of good
instruments. Certainly it follows, by parity of reason. For if you
conclude that, from the calling forth all promiscuously, and no reproof
given for it, in the case of necessary defence, then we may conclude, from
the calling forth of all promiscuously, and in the case of an invasive
war, and no reproof recorded, that neither, in such a case, is it sinful
to make no difference, and that with strong reason, because it being more
easy in such a case to choose instruments, and no necessity pleading for
it, if it had been sinful, the prophets would have rather reproved it,
then rebuked them for using such means in a case of necessity. 2. We may
argue after that manner, that in the case of necessary just defence, there
should be no exceptions made at all of any persons, because we read not
that the judges or kings debarred any subjects, neither that they were
rebuked for so doing. Therefore the instances militate as much against the
exceptions added in the answer to the query, as against us, unless it be
said that there were no such persons among that people, which were as
groundless rashness as to say that they gave all evidence of repentance.
3. Seeing the judges and the reforming kings of Judah were so accurate and
exact in cleaving to the law of God, and walking according to it in all
other things, it were more charitable and Christian judgment to say, that
since they are not reproved for any fault in this particular, that they
were also exact to walk according to the rule, (Deut. xxiii.) in so great
a point as this. 4. Men’s practice is often lame and crooked, and
therefore must be examined according to the rule, but it were not fair
dealing to accommodate the rule to men’s practice. Seeing then we have so
clear and perfect a rule (Deut. xxiii.), which must judge both their
practice and ours, we see not how their practice can be obtruded as a rule
upon us, which itself must be examined according to a common and general
rule. If it be not according to that law, we hold it to be sinful in
itself, and so no precedent for us; albeit the prophets did not reprove it
in express and particular terms (as they did not reprove man stealing,
&c.), yet they rebuked it by consequence, in as far as they rebuked the
kings for association with wicked Israelites, which is condemned upon
grounds common to this very case in hand. 5. We see not any ground for
such promiscuous calling forth of the people by the judges. Barak’s
business, as that of Jephthah and Gideon, was done by no great multitudes
of people, but a few choice men. 6. As the oppression was heavy and
continued long, so the repentance of the people was solemn, and their
deliverance a fruit of this. 7. Their case and ours is very different.
None of Israel or Judah did fight against the profession of the true
religion, and shed the blood of their fellow subjects who were for the
defence of the same. Israel in the days of the judges, and Judah in the
time of the reforming kings, was not divided the one half against the
other, upon opposition and defence of the true religion, and the better
part, after many experiences of the treachery and enmity of the most of
the worst part, solemnly engaged to God not to admit them to employment
and trust, but upon real evidence of repentance of which they should judge
as in the sight of God. And last of all, did ever Israel or Judah, in the
days of their judges and reforming kings, admit into their armies a party
and faction of such as had given no real evidence of their abandoning
their former course, and such a party, as had been long studying to get
the power of armies and judicatories in their own hands for attaining
their own ends? But all those are in our case.
The third instance from scripture, is from 1 Sam. xi., which is alleged to
be a clear practice, and stamped with divine approbation. In the case of
Jabesh-Gilead besieged by a foreign enemy, Saul commands all to come forth
for defence of their brethren, under pain of a severe civil censure. Now,
what Saul did in this business, the Spirit of God is said to act him to
it, and what the people did, was from the fear of God, making them obey
the king. And then Samuel in this acting concurs jointly, and makes no
opposition. And last of all, the people came forth as one man, and yet
(chap. x. 27) many men of Belial were among them, who malignantly opposed
Saul’s government, contrary to God’s revealed will.
To which we answer, 1. The stamp of divine approbation is not apparent to
us, success doth not prove it. Neither the Spirit coming on Saul, nor the
fear of God falling on the people, will import a divine approbation of all
that was done in the managing that war. That motion of the Spirit is no
sanctifying motion, but a common, though extraordinary, impulse of Saul’s
spirit to the present work, which, doubtless, was in the king of Babylon,
whom God raised up, fitted and sent for the destruction of many nations
albeit that work in his hand was iniquity. That fear of God that fell upon
the people, was but a fear of the king imprinted by God, and it is more
peculiarly attributed to God, because the people did despise and contemn
him, which makes their reverence and fear to be a more extraordinary thing
upon a sudden. Then Samuel, not opposing the course in hand, doth no more
import his approbation of all that was done in it, than his not reproving
the men of Belial doth prove that he approved of their opposition. 2. It
doth not appear that the men of Belial were a great faction and party,
there is something in ver. 12 speaks against it. It is not like the people
would put a faction and party to death. 3. Neither doth it appear that
they were in the army. For that which is said, that all the people came
out as one man, doth only import, that the body and generality of them
came forth, and that it was a wonder so many came forth so suddenly at the
command of the king, who was but mean and abject in their eyes. It is
certain that all fencible persons were not present, because the whole army
being numbered, ver. 8, was but 330,000. And who will say there was no
more men in Israel, when they had 600,000 such, and above, before their
coming into the land? Seeing then, many have staid at home, it is most
probable that these men of Belial would not come, seeing they despised
Saul’s mean and low condition in their heart and thought him unfit to lead
their armies, till he should prove what was in him. That which is said,
ver. 12, doth not prove they were in the camp. It might be conveniently
spoken of absent persons. 4. It is not certain that these men were wicked
and scandalous in their conversation, haters of godliness and of their
brethren, but that they stood at distance only with Saul, in the point of
his election, which indeed was blame worthy, seeing God had revealed his
mind in it. And therefore they are called men of Belial, as Peter was
called Satan, for opposing Christ’s suffering.
Some other scriptures are alleged by some, as David’s employing of such
men, &c., all which are cleared in Mr. Gillespie’s Treatise of Miscellany
Questions, quest. 14.
Third. It is argued from reason. And, 1. That which any is obliged to do
for another’s preservation by the law of God and nature, and which he
cannot omit without the guilt of the other’s destruction, that may the
other lawfully require of him to do when he needs it, and when it may be
done without the undoing of a greater good. But so it is, that every
subject is obliged by the law of nature, oath and covenants, and the law
of God, to endeavour to their power, the preservation of the kingdom
against unjust violence. And the safety of the kingdom stands in need of
many subjects’ assistance who were secluded. And it may be done without
undoing a greater good than is the preservation of religion. _Ergo_.
This argument hath an answer to it in the bosom of it. (1) We shortly deny
the assumption, in relation to the two last branches, both that the
kingdom’s preservation stands in necessity of these men’s help, and that
their help tends not to the undoing of a greater good, seeing there is no
reason given to confirm these two points, wherein the nerve of the
business lies. We refer to a reason of our denial of them given p.
22.(382) (2) It is true that the obligation to such a duty lies upon all,
but that obligation is to be brought into act and exercise in an orderly
and qualified way, else what need any exceptions be in the act of levy?
Excommunicated persons are under the same obligation, yet the magistrate
is not actually obliged to call such, but rather to seclude them. Are not
all bound to come to the sacrament who are church members? Yet many are
not in a capacity to come, and so ought neither to presume to come nor be
admitted. Are not all subjects obliged to defend the cause of God, and to
prosecute it? And yet many, because of their enmity to the cause of God,
are actually incapable of employment in the defence or prosecution
thereof. (3) The law of nature is above all human laws and constitutions,
they must cede whenever they come in opposition to it. _Salus populi_ is
_suprema lex_(383) in relation to these. But, in relation to the law of
God, it is not so. Sometimes the law of nature must yield to positive
commands of God. Abraham must sacrifice his son at God’s command. The law
of nature obliges us to the preservation of ourselves, but it does not
oblige to every mean that may be found expedient to that end, unless it be
supposed lawful and approven of God. Therefore the Lord in his written
word doth determine what means we may use for that end, and what not. But,
(4) We conceive that the law forbidding association and confederacy with
known wicked and ungodly persons, is included in the law of nature, as
well as the law that obliges us to self preservation. That is grounded on
perpetual reason, as well as this. Nature bids me preserve myself, and
nature binds me to have one friend and foe with God. The heathens had a
notion of it. They observed, that Amphiaraus, a wise and virtuous man, was
therefore swallowed up in the earth with seven men and seven horses,
because he had joined himself and associated with Tydeus, Capaneus, and
other wicked commanders marching to the siege of Thebe. Mr Gill. Miscell.
Quest. chap. 14 p. 171.(384)
2. The second reason is framed thus _in hypothesi_.(385) Such as are
excluded are a great part, if not the greater part of the remnant of the
land, if rules of exclusion be extended impartially. Now, they having
their lives and liberties allowed them, must either in these things be
insured by the interposing of a competent power for their defence, or else
they must have liberty to act for themselves. But so it is, that we cannot
interpose a competent power for their protection. _Ergo_, They must have
liberty to act for themselves. _Nam qui dat vitam dat necessaria ad
vitam._(386)
We answer, (1) It is not certain that such as are excluded are the greater
part of the land. However, it is certain, that though the rule had been
kept, and endeavours had been used to walk according to it, yet many whom
it excludes would have been taken in. There is a great difference between
endeavour of duty, and attaining its perfection. If the rule had not been
quite destroyed, so great offence could not have been taken, though it had
not been strictly urged in all particulars. (2) We still affirm, upon
evident grounds to us, that there is a power competent in the land, beside
the malignant party, which may protect the land and insure their lives and
liberties. (3)(387) We are persuaded many of that party, who have been so
deeply involved in blood guiltiness and barbarous cruelties should neither
have lives nor liberties secured to them, because they ought not to be
permitted to live. But the not taking away so much guilty blood from the
land by acts of justice, is the cause that so much innocent and precious
blood is now shed. Our rulers have pardoned that blood which God would not
pardon, and therefore would not pardon it to the land because they
pardoned it to the murderers.
Section IV.
That It Is Not Lawful For The Well Affected Subjects To Concur In Such An
Engagement In War, And Associate With The Malignant Party.
Some convinced of the unlawfulness of the public resolutions and
proceedings, in reference to the employing of the malignant party, yet do
not find such clearness and satisfaction in their own consciences as to
forbid the subjects to concur in this war, and associate with the army so
constituted. Therefore it is needful to speak something to this point,
That it is as unlawful for the subjects to associate and join in arms with
that party as it is for the parliament to employ them. For these reasons:
1. The scriptures before cited against associations and confederacies with
wicked and ungodly men do prove this. The command prohibiting conjunction
with them and conversing, &c. is common both to magistrates and people,
for the ground of it is common to both—The people’s insnaring, helping of
the ungodly, &c. It were strange doctrine to say, that it is not lawful
for the parliament to associate in war with the malignants, lest the
people be insnared and yet it is lawful for the people to associate with
them upon the command of the parliament, seeing the insnaring of the
people hath a more immediate connexion with the people’s conjunction with
them nor(388) with the parliament’s resolution about it. Had it not been a
transgression in all the people to have joined with these men before the
parliament’s resolution about it? How then can their resolution
intervening loose the people from their obligation to God’s command? Shall
it be no sin to me, because they sin before me? Can their going before me
in the transgression, exempt me from the transgression of that same law
which obliges both them and me? 2. The people were reproved for such
associations as well as rulers, though they originated from the rulers.
The prophets speak to the whole body. “What hast thou to do in the way of
Egypt?” &c. Jer. ii. 18. And Isa. xxxi. “Wo to them that go down to
Egypt.” Psal. cvi. “They mingled themselves,” &c. The Lord instructed
Isaiah, and in him all his own people, all the children whom God had given
him, saying, “Say ye not, A confederacy, to all them to whom this people
shall say, A confederacy,” Isa. viii. 12. When all the people were going
on in such a mean of self defence, the Lord instructed him and the
disciples among whom the testimony was sealed, that they should not walk
in the way of this people. When Jehoshaphat was reproved for helping the
ungodly, were not all his people reproved that went with him? They were
the helpers of the ungodly as well as he. If Amaziah had refused to
dismiss the army of Israel whom God was not with, doubtless it had been
the subject’s duty to testify against it, and refuse to concur and act in
such a fellowship.
3. If the association and conjunction with malignants be only the sin of
the parliament, and not the sin of the people, who do upon their command
associate with them, then we cannot see how people can be guilty of
association with malignants at any time, and in any case. To join with
them in an ill cause is not lawful indeed. But neither may we join with
good men in an evil cause. Suppose then the cause be good and necessary
(as no war is just if it be not necessary), in what case or circumstances
shall association with them be unlawful for the people? If it be said, in
case the magistrate command it not, we think that strange divinity, that
the sole command of the magistrate should make that our duty, which in
absence of his command is our sin, and that not because of the absence of
his command but from other perpetual grounds. Certainly, whenever
association with them is a sin, it is not that which makes it a sin,
because the magistrate commands it not, but because God forbids it. And it
is as strange, that the unlawful and sinful resolution of parliament
should make that lawful to me which otherwise had been unlawful. It is
known that human laws oblige not, but as they have connexion with God’s
word. Now if that law, enjoining a confluence of all subjects for the
defence of the kingdom, be contrary to the word, in as far as it holds out
a conjunction with malignant and bloody men, how can it be lawful to me,
in obedience to that ordinance, to associate with these men? If it be said
to be lawful in the case of necessity, that same necessity is as strong a
plea for the magistrate’s employing them, as for the people’s joining with
them, and if it do not justify that, it cannot excuse this. If the
lawfulness of the mean must be measured by the justice and necessity of
the end, then certainly any mean shall be lawful in the case of just and
necessary defence, then we may employ Irish cut throats, then we may go to
the devil for help, if expediency to compass such a necessary and just end
be the rule of the lawfulness of the mean.
4. The whole land is bound by the covenant and solemn engagement not to
associate with the malignant party. _Ergo_, It is as sinful for the people
to join with them as for the magistrate to employ them. Are we not all
bound by covenant, to endeavour to bring malignants to condign punishment,
and to look on them as enemies? And is not conjunction and confederacy
with them, on the people’s part, as inconsistent in its own nature with
that duty, as the magistrate’s employing them is inconsistent with his
covenanted duty? When all the people did solemnly engage themselves not to
join any more with the people of these abominations, was the meaning of
it, we shall not join until our rulers join first, or, we shall not join
with them in an ill cause? No indeed, but, we shall not employ them in a
good cause, or join with any party of them in it. If that engagement be
upon every one in their station, let us consider what every man’s station
in the work is. The ruler’s station and calling is to choose instruments,
and levy forces for the defence thereof. The subjects station and calling
is, to concur in that work, by rising in defence of the cause and kingdom.
Now, what did the subject then engage unto? Certainly, unless we mock God,
we must say, that as the magistrate engaged not to employ that ungodly
generation in a good cause, so the subject engaged not to join with any
such party even in a good cause. If this be not the meaning of our
engagements and vows, we see not how the subjects are in capacity to break
them, as to that precise point of association.
In sum, All the reasons that are brought to prove the unlawfulness of the
public resolutions, may with a little variation be proportionably applied
to this present question. Therefore we add no more but a word to an
objection or two.
_Objection 1_. A necessary duty, such as self preservation is, cannot be
my sin. But it is the subject’s necessary duty to rise in defence of the
kingdom. _Ergo_,
_Answer_. A necessary duty cannot be a sin in itself, but it may be a sin
in regard of some circumstances, in which it ceases to be a necessary
duty. It is a necessary duty to defend the kingdom. But it is neither a
duty nor necessary to do it in such a conjunction and fellowship, but
rather a sin. If I cannot preserve myself, but by an unlawful mean, then
self preservation in such circumstances is not my duty.
_Objection 2_. Jonathan did assist Saul in a war against the Philistines
invading the land, and no doubt many godly joined and died in battle. Now
this is commended in scripture, as may be seen in David’s funeral(389)
upon them, although it was known that Saul was an hater of God’s people
and a persecutor, and that God had a controversy with him, and that these
3,000 that assisted him against David were also ungodly and wicked men.
_Answer 1_. These scriptures speak nothing to commend that particular act
of Jonathan’s conjunction in war with his father. David in his epitaph
speaks much to the commendation of both Saul and Jonathan, as of excellent
warriors, and of Jonathan as a kind and constant friend to him, but there
is nothing touched of that point. If that place be pressed, it will follow
with much more evidence, that Saul was as good a man as Jonathan, and that
the people of God had great loss in his death. But none of these must be
pressed rigorously from a speech wherein he vents his affection and grief.
2. Suppose the natural bond of Jonathan to Saul his father, and the civil
bonds of the people to Saul their king, did oblige them to join with him
against the common enemy, yet we think they ought not to have associated
with these persecuting servants, and the 3,000 that pursued David, but
they ought to have pleaded for a purging of the army. 3. It is not
probable that there were many godly persons employed in that army. David
complains of that time, (Psal. xii.) that the godly man ceased, and the
faithful from among the children of men and that the wicked walked round
about when the vilest men were exalted. 4. Many of the laws of God have
not been much taken notice of, even by godly men, until the Lord hath
taken occasion to reprove them particularly, and so to mind(390) them of
their duty. It is likely the rule, (Deut. xxiii.) had not been considered
till the time of Jehoshaphat and Amaziah.(391) However it be, they had not
so many solemn and particular ties of oaths, and covenants, and vows, and
confessions, as we have lying on us. 5. Let no man wonder that such
particular escapes are not always reproved in scripture, who considers
that the fathers’ polygamy, though so frequent among them, was not laid to
their charge.
_Objection 3_. Separation from the army, because of the sin of
magistrates, in employing such unqualified persons, is paralleled to
separation from church worship, because of the sin of the false
worshippers, and because the guides of the church do not exclude them.
_Answer 1_. We have particular commands about this, and many examples of
it, which we have not about separation from a true church, and lawful
worship. Union and conjunction with an enemy renders conjunction, and
their fellowship, more dangerous and infectious than conjunction in a
church state. Judah might not separate from these Israelites in lawful
ordinances, or from the ordinance [because] of their presence. And yet
they might not help them nor take help from them. Paul did not exhort any
to separate from the worship at Corinth, because of the presence of
scandalous persons at it and yet he charges them not to converse with such
brethren as walk disorderly. Notwithstanding of union in church and state,
we may look on many as such as should not be joined with in some other
bonds. It is not lawful for a godly man to marry a profane woman, though a
visible professor, he may not join in such a tie, although he ought not to
separate from church worship for her presence. _Besides_, there is a
conjunction in arms for one cause, as necessarily makes men partakers of
the same blessings and cursings, and therefore we should give the more
diligent heed, when we partake with them in lawful things. 3. Are we all
tied, by such particular oaths and solemn vows, not to join with the
scandalous persons of a congregation in lawful worship, as we are, not to
associate with the malignant party in the defence of the cause of God, and
kingdom? It cannot be said. Therefore the cases are not paralleled.
We shall close all with a testimony of one of the Lord’s most faithful
witnesses, Mr. Gillespie, whose light in this case was once very
seasonably held forth, and effectual to the preventing of the declining of
this land and we hope it will not be wholly forgotten by them, with whom
it had weight then. In his letter to the General Assembly, 1648, he
sayeth, “I am not able to express all the evils of compliance, they are so
many. Sure I am, it were a hardening of the malignant party, a wounding of
the hearts of the godly, a great scandal to our brethren of England, an
infinite wronging of those who, from their affection to the covenant and
cause of God, have taken their life in their hand, who, as they have been
strengthened and encouraged, by the hearing of the zeal and integrity of
the well affected in this kingdom, and how they oppose the late
Engagement, so they would be as much scandalized to hear of a compliance
with malignants now. Yea, all that hear of it may justly stand amazed at
us, and look on us as a people infatuated, that can take in our bosom the
fiery serpents, that have stung us so sore. But above all, that which
would heighten these sins to the heavens is this, that it were not only a
horrible backsliding, but a backsliding into that very sin, which was
especially pointed at, and punished by the prevalency of the malignant
party, God justly making them thorns and scourges, who were taken in as
friends, without any real evidence, or fruits of repentance. Alas! shall
we split twice upon this same rock, yea, run upon it, when God has set a
beacon on it? Shall we be so demented as to fall back to the same sin,
which was engraven in great letters in our late judgment? Yea, I may say,
shall we thus out face and out dare the Almighty, by protecting his and
our enemies, when he is persecuting them, by making peace and friendship
with them, when the anger of the Lord is burning against them, by setting
them on their feet, when God hath cast them down? O! shall neither
judgments nor deliverances make us wise? I must here apply to our
condition the words of Ezra, ‘And after all this is come upon us for our
evil deeds, and for our great trespasses, seeing that thou our God hast
punished us less than our iniquities deserve, and hath given such
deliverance us this, should we again break thy commandments, and join in
affinity with the people of these abominations, wouldest thou not be angry
with us till thou hast consumed us, so that there should be no remnant nor
escaping?’ O happy Scotland! if thou canst now improve aright, and not
abuse this golden opportunity, but if thou wilt help the ungodly, or love
them that hate the Lord, wrath upon wrath, and woe upon woe, shall be upon
thee from the Lord.
“This testimony of a dying man (who expects to stand shortly before the
tribunal of Christ) I leave with you my reverend brethren,” &c. And again
in his Testimony against association and compliance with malignants,
written two days before his death, he says, “Seeing now, in all
appearance, the time of my dissolution is very near, although I have, in
my latter will, declared my mind of public affairs, yet I have thought
good to add this further testimony, that I esteem the malignant party in
these kingdoms the seed of the serpent, enemies to piety, and Presbyterian
government, (pretend what they will to the contrary,) a generation that
have not set God before them. With the malignants are to be joined the
profane and scandalous, from all which, as also from heresies, and errors,
the Lord I trust is about to purge his churches. I have often comforted
myself, and still do, with the hopes of the Lord’s purging of this
polluted land, surely the Lord has begun, and will carry on that great
work of mercy, and will purge out the rebels. I know there will be always
a mixture of hypocrites, but that cannot excuse the conniving at gross and
scandalous sinners. This purging work, which the Lord is about, very many
have directly opposed, and said, by their deeds, we will not be purged nor
refined, but we will be joining, and mixing ourselves with those whom the
ministers preach against, as malignant enemies to God and his cause. But
let him that is filthy, be filthy still, and let wisdom be justified of
her children. I recommend to them that fear God, sadly and seriously to
consider, that the Holy Scripture doth plainly hold forth, 1. That the
helping of the enemies of God, or joining and mingling with wicked men, is
a sin highly displeasing. 2. That this sin hath ordinarily insnared God’s
people into divers other sins. 3. That it hath been punished of God with
grievous judgments. 4. That utter destruction is to be feared, when a
people, after great mercies and judgments, relapse into this sin, Ezra ix.
13, 14. Upon the said and the like grounds, for my own exoneration, that
so necessary a truth want not the testimony of a dying witness of Christ,
also the unworthiest of many thousands, and that light may be held forth,
and warning given, I cannot be silent at this time, but speak by my pen,
when I cannot by my tongue; yea, now also by the pen of another, when I
cannot by my own; seriously and in the name of Jesus Christ, exhorting all
that fear God, and make conscience of their ways, to be very tender and
circumspect, to watch and pray that they be not insnared in that great
dangerous sin of conjunction, or compliance with malignant or profane
enemies of the truth, under whatsomever prudential considerations it may
be varnished over, which if men will do, and trust God in his own way,
they shall not only not repent it, but to their greater joy and peace of
God’s people, they shall see his work go on, and prosper gloriously. In
witness to the premises, I have subscribed the same with my hand at
Kirkaldy,(392) December 15th, 1648. Mr. Frederick Carmichael,(393) at
Markinch, and Mr. Alex Moncreiff,(394) minister at Scoonie,
_Sic Sub._
GEORGE GILLESPIE.
F. C. _Witness_
A. M. _Witness_
Section V.
Scriptures Showing The Sin And Danger Of Joining With Wicked And Ungodly
Men.
When the Lord is punishing such a people against whom he hath a
controversy, and a notable controversy, every one that is found shall be
thrust through: and every one joined with them shall fall, Isa. xiii. 15.
They partake in their judgment, not only because in a common calamity all
shares, (as in Ezek. xxi. 3.) but chiefly because joined with and
partakers with these whom God is pursuing; even as the strangers that join
to the house of Jacob partake of her blessings, chap. xiv. 1. To this
purpose is Isa. xxxi. 2, 3, and Ezek. xxx. 5, 6, 8. The mingled people and
those that are in league with Egypt partake in her plagues, and those that
uphold that throne that God so visibly controverts with, their power shall
come down, and all its helpers shall be destroyed, as it is Jer. xxi. 12,
20, 24. And this is the great reason of these many warnings to go out of
Babylon, Jer. l. 8. and li. 6. Remember that passage, 2 Kings i. 9, 10,
11, 12. The captain and messenger of the king speaks but a word in
obedience to his wicked master’s command, and the fifty are but with him,
and speak not: but their master’s judgment comes on them all.
Consider how many testimonies the wise king, in his Proverbs, gives
against it. Chap. i. from ver. 10, to 19. “My son, if sinners entice thee,
consent thou not. If they say, Come with us, let us lay wait for blood,
let us lurk privily for the innocent without cause. Let us swallow them up
alive as the grave, and whole as those that go down into the pit. We shall
find all precious substance, we shall fill our houses with spoil. Cast in
thy lot among us, let us all have one purse. My son, walk not thou in the
way with them; refrain thy foot from their path. For their feet run to
evil, and make haste to shed blood,” &c. Here are the practices and
designs of wicked men expressed in their own nature. But certainly they
would colour them over with fair pretences. Their purpose is to undo men,
especially godly men that classed and purged them. Yea, it is the
profession of many, and they scarce lie privily, or have so much wisdom as
to conceal their designs till their fit opportunity, but before the power
be confirmed in their hand, they breathe out cruelty against all the
innocent in the land, and promise themselves great gain by it, and are
already dividing their estates among them, saying we “shall find all
precious substance,” ver. 13. But, my son, if thou fear God, though they
entice thee with specious arguments of nature, and necessity, and country
privileges, yet consent not. Venture not thy stock in one vessel with
them. Cast not in thy lot among them. “Walk not in the way with them:
refrain thy foot from their path:” for they are not come to the height of
iniquity, they are running on to it. And if thou join, thou wilt cast
thyself in a miserable snare; for either thou must go on with them to
their designed and professed evils, or be exposed to their cruelty.
Chap. ii. from ver. 10. to the end. “When wisdom entereth into thine
heart, and knowledge is pleasant to thy soul; discretion shall preserve
thee, understanding shall keep thee to deliver thee from the way of the
evil man, from the man that speaketh froward things, who leave the paths
of uprightness, to walk in the ways of darkness,” &c. If thou take the
word of God for a lamp to thy feet, and it enter into thy soul, and be
received in love and affection, it will certainly keep thee from the evil
men’s way, who have already left the righteous paths to walk in the ways
of darkness, who rejoice in nothing so much as in the sorrows and miseries
of the godly, and delight in one another’s wickedness. And it will keep
thee chaste to thy husband Christ Jesus, and preserve thee from committing
fornications with Egypt as Aholah and Aholibah, and joining so nearly with
the degenerated seed of Abraham, who are but as strangers. For come near
their house and paths, and they will lead thee to destruction with them or
make thee a more miserable life. But these that go to them return not
again quickly. They are like fallen stars. Shall they ever be set in the
firmament again? It is safest to walk with good and righteous men, for
God’s blessing and promise is on them. His curse and threatening is on the
wicked. Therefore thou may fear wrath on that account, if thou join with
them.
Chap. iv. ver. 14-20 “Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in
the way of evil men. Avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass
away. For they sleep not except they have done mischief, and their sleep
is taken away except they cause some to fall. For they eat the bread of
wickedness, and drink the wine of violence. But the path of the just is as
the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. The
way of the wicked is as darkness, and they know not at what they stumble.”
It was said, chap. iii. 23, that the man who keeps wisdom and the fear of
God in his heart, should walk in the way and not stumble. That safety hath
ease in it here. Their steps are not straitened, as when a man walks in
steep and hazardous places, who cannot choose but it will be. If a man
enter into the path of wicked men, he must either go along in their way
with them, and then it is broad indeed, or, if he think to keep a good
conscience in it, he will be pinched and straitened. Therefore it is most
free for the mind and conscience to avoid and pass by that way “for they
sleep not,” &c. They will never be satisfied till they have done a
mischief, they will live upon the ruins of the poor country. And how wilt
thou join in that? Or how can thou eschew it, if thou walk with them? If
it were no more, it is a suspected by path, that thou never travelled
into. O pass by it, or, if thou be entered, turn out of it. If thou wilt
enter upon the apprehension of some light and duty in it, know that it is
but evening, the sun is setting, and thou wilt be benighted ere it be
long, and thou shalt stumble then, and not know whereupon, even on that,
thou seest not now and thinkest to eschew and pass by. Then from ver. 23,
to the end, “Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the
issues of life, &c.” Except thou keep thy heart and whole man, thou cannot
escape falling into some temptation. O keep thy heart diligently on the
knowledge and lore of the truth. Take heed to thy words. Look not a squint
but directly to that which is good. Give not a squint look to any unlawful
course, for the necessity or utility, it may be that seems to attend it.
But look straight on, and ponder well the way thou walkest in, that thou
run to no extremity either to one parte or other, that thou walk in the
middle way between profanity and error. Thou heldest these ways hitherto
for extremes. Ponder, I beseech thee, then, before thou walkest in any of
them. See whether they be really come to thee, or thou to them. Mark who
is changed.
Chap. v. 8 to the 15. “Remove thy way far from her, and come not near the
door of her house, lest thou give thine honour unto others, and thy years
unto the cruel. Lest strangers be filled with thy wealth, and thy labours
be in the house of a stranger. And thou mourn at last when thy flesh and
thy body are consumed, and say, How have I hated instruction, and my heart
despised reproof, and have not obeyed the voice of my teachers, nor
inclined mine ear to them that instructed me! &c.” If thou would be safe
from snares, remove from the way and house of the strange woman. Thou must
fall in Aholah and Aholibah’s whoredoms (Ezek. xxiii.) except thou come
not near them. If thou keep not from that assembly and congregation, thou
shall be “almost in all evil.” If thou join with them, thou cannot but
partake of their sins and plagues; and so thou shalt say after, when thou
cannot well mend it, “I was near gone, my steps almost gone,” and all the
assembly of his people shall witness to it.
Chap. vi. 16, 17, 18, 24, 25. “These six things doth the Lord hate, yea
seven are an abomination unto him. A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands
that shed innocent blood, an heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet
that be swift in running to mischief. To keep thee from the strange woman,
from the flattery of the tongue of a strange woman. Lust not after her
beauty in thine heart, neither let her take thee with her eye lids.” This
describes both our enemies, the malignant party and the sectarian. Pride,
violence, cruelty, lying, is the very character of the one. Flattery,
beauty of pretended religion, false witnessing and charging of the Lord’s
people, and seeking to sow discord among these that were one in heart and
work, is the character of the other. Now, keep thee from both these
abominations, and do not think it is in thy power not to be infected with
the contagion of their fellowship. “Can a man take fire in his bosom and
his clothes not be burnt? Can one go on hot coals and not burn his feet?”
So whoever associates and goes in friendly to either of them “shall not be
innocent,” ver. 27, 28, 29.
Chap. vii. 14, &c. “I have peace offerings with me, this day have I paid
my vows.” They pretend religion on both sides. And our church says, the
malignants have satisfied them, and repented, even like the peace
offerings and vows of the whore. She began with her devotion, that she
might with more liberty sin more, and have that pretence to cover it, and
by means of her offerings, she got a feast of the flesh, even as they by
profession of repentance are admitted to trust, and by offering for the
like sin, a new sin is covered, and vows undertaken never to be kept.
Therefore take heed of these snares. “For she hath cast down many strong,”
ver. 26. Many a tall cedar hath fallen by that fellowship. It is the way
to hell, ver. 27. See chap. viii. 13.
Chap. x. shows us the very different estate of the godly and wicked, both
in regard of light and knowledge concerning duty, and of blessings
promised. Ver. 6, 9, 11, 20, 23. “Blessings are upon the head of the just,
but violence covereth the mouth of the wicked. He that walketh uprightly,
walketh surely, but he that perverteth his ways, shall be known. The mouth
of a righteous man is a well of life, but violence covereth the mouth of
the wicked. The tongue of the just is as choice silver, the heart of the
wicked is little worth. It is as a sport to a fool to do mischief but a
man of understanding hath wisdom,” &c. Ver. 24, 25, 28, 31, 32, which show
us, that if the Lord’s mind be revealed to any concerning the present
courses, it must be to his poor people that wait on him, and not to all
the wicked and ungodly in the land, who almost only are satisfied and
clear in the course, who yet before were never satisfied. And beside,
though the Lord be chastising his people, yet one may join with them
without fear of wrath and indignation on that account, and with hope of
partaking of their blessings, when he cannot and dare not join with a
wicked party pursued with wrath and indignation in the same dispensation,
which may be more clear from chap. xi. 3, 5, 8. “The integrity of the
upright shall guide them, but the perverseness of transgressors shall
destroy them. The righteousness of the perfect shall direct his way, but
the wicked shall fall by his own wickedness. The righteous is delivered
out of trouble, and the wicked cometh in his stead.” And verses 10, 11,
show the different condition of people under wicked rulers and godly. All
the wicked now rejoice. None shouts but they. They think their day is
come. The godly generally hang their head and are discountenanced, even as
Psal. xii. The 21 and 31 verses show, that when godly men are chastised
and punished in the earth for their sins, “much more the wicked,”
especially when the godly were chastised for partaking with them,
according to 1 Pet. iv 17, 18, Isa. x 12, and xlix. 26.
Chap. xii. 13. “They are snared by the transgression of their lips.” Their
ordinary common speeches they drop out with, declare them, and make their
cause, more hateful than other pretences, it is covered with, would
permit. Yea, they speak like the piercings of a sword, against the godly,
ver. 18. If our state and church had a lip of truth, they would speak
always the same thing. They would not carry in their talk and writings, as
now every common understanding perceives. We may find their writings made
up of contradictions. For “a lying tongue is but for a moment,” ver. 19.
It is but for a moment indeed before the judicatory; and then out of doors
it contradicts itself, as in the mock repentances. But sorrow and anguish
will come to these, who before they would speak of terms of peace with one
enemy, would associate in war with another. “But to the counsellors of
peace is joy,” ver. 20. The present course contradicts this. Ver. 26. “The
righteous is more excellent than his neighbour: but the way of the wicked
seduceth them.” They think these malignants better than the west country
forces. They would condescend to any terms to get their help, though it
were to reverse the Act of Classes,(395) to give them indemnity, yea, not
so much as to condemn their way: but they will not so much as clear the
state of the quarrel, or choose a better general(396) for all their help.
Their way seems good in their own eyes, ver. 15. But it were wisdom to
hearken to the counsel of the godly.
Chap. xiii. 10. “Only by pride cometh contention, but with the
well-advised is wisdom.” There is nothing keepeth up our contention and
wars but pride: no party will condescend to another. We will not say we
have done wrong in bringing in the king. They will not say they have done
wrong in invading. But it were wisdom to fall lower and quit those
interests. Ver. 16. “Every prudent man dealeth with knowledge: but a fool
layeth open his folly.” A wise man would count before the war, if he can
accomplish it: and if he cannot, then he would send messengers of peace,
and cede in all things he may without sin. If it be but more honour and
wealth to our king,(397) should we destroy the kingdom to purchase that?
Our rash and abrupt proceedings show our folly. Ver. 20. “He that walketh
with wise men shall be wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed.”
A man will be, must be, assimilated to his company, and then partake of
their judgment or blessings.
Chap. xiv. He that is accustomed to speak truth in private, will in his
common speech be a faithful witness in public: but a man accustomed to
lying, dissembling, swearing in private, will not stick to forswear
himself, to make professions and vows contrary to his mind in public, ver.
5. (and also chap. xii. 17. and vi. 19.) Such men seek wisdom and make a
show of religion, but find it not; whereas it is easy to godly men to find
it, to find repentance and salvation, ver. 6. Go away from foolish men,
and break off society with ungodly men. Be not privy to their counsels.
Use them not as special friends, when thou perceivest that all means are
used in vain to reclaim them from their damnable way and principles, ver.
7. The knowledge a godly man hath serves to direct his way, and is given
of God for it. But all the wit and skill of such wicked men is deceit.
They themselves are beguiled by it in opinion, and practice, and hope. And
they also beguile others, ver. 8. Sin makes fools agree: but among the
righteous, that which is good makes agreement (in the old
translation(398)), ver. 9. It is only evil will unite all the wicked in
the land as one man. For it is a sport to them to do mischief, chap. x.
23. Albeit our way seem right in our eyes, yet because it is a backsliding
way, and departing from unquestionably right rules, the end will be death,
and we will be filled with our own devices. O! it shall be bitter in the
belly of all godly men when they have eaten it, ver. 12, 14. and chap. i.
31. “The simple believeth every word;” giveth credit to every vain word
that is spoken. But a prudent man looketh well to men’s goings, ponders
and examines whether their professions and practices agree, what weight is
in their words, by the inspection of their deeds, and of their ordinary
speaking, and does not account a coined word before a judicatory
sufficient to testify repentance. And as he gives not present credit to
their professions, who have so often proven treacherous, so he himself
scares at every appearance of evil, and keeps himself from it; whereas
foolish souls rage and are confident, think any thing lawful if they can
have any pretence for it, or use of it, ver. 15, 16. Then, what a great
difference is between wicked men and godly men, both in their lot, when
God is correcting both, and in their disposition! Wisdom that rests in the
one’s heart, is manifested; wickedness in the other’s heart appears also.
In the midst of such men there is no other thing, ver. 32, 33.
Chap. xv. 8, (“The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord;
but the prayer of the upright is his delight,”) expresses how provoking a
thing the outward professions and sacrifices of wicked men, continuing in
their wickedness; what an abomination that commonly called public
repentance, or ecclesiastical holiness is, when men are visibly unholy and
ungodly in their conversation. And therefore he pleaded always with that
people, that his soul abhorred their external ceremonies, because of the
uncleanness of their hands. He pleaded that he never commanded them,
though indeed he did command them. Yet those were aberrations and
departings from the express rule and command,—to accept or be pleased with
these sacrifices and ceremonies,—when there was no evidence of real
repentance. To this purpose are chap. xxi. 4, 27; Isa. i. 11; and lxvi. 3;
Jer. vi. 20; and vii. 22; Amos v. 22,—all which show that it is but a
mocking of the Lord, and perverting of his law, and profaning of his
ordinances, to accept the profession of repentance in those who walk
contrary thereto, and to count them ecclesiastically holy enough, who say,
they repent, though a thousand actions witness the contrary. Of such the
Lord says, “What hast thou to do to take my covenant in thy mouth, seeing
thou hatest to be reformed?” Psal. l. 16, 17. They have no right to it.
They should not be admitted to it for it is a taking the Lord’s name in
vain. The l6th verse tells us, that it had been better to possess our own
land in quietness than to venture what we have for the uncertain conquest
of England, and restitution of the king parallel with Eccl. iv. 8.
Chap. xvi. 7. “When a man’s ways please the Lord he maketh even his
enemies to be at peace with him.” Can our States(399) way then please the
Lord, seeing they cannot find the way of peace,—they will not walk in it,
and seeing they make the godly in the land to fall out with them, and none
to be at peace but the wicked, who may thereby get opportunity to crush
the godly? Ver. 17 “The highway of the upright is to depart from evil.”
This is the highway only, to depart from evil, not carnal policies, nor
advantages. He thinks the stepping aside to any of these is not the
highway. Can then men change their way, and go cross to it and keep the
right way in both? No, the godly have this high way and keep it. Chap.
xvii. 11. “An evil man seeketh only rebellion, therefore a cruel messenger
shall be sent against him.” Evil men seek only rebellion, and delight in
no other thing. But the King of kings shall send a cruel messenger, he
arms men with wrath and power against them. Ver. 13, speaketh sadly to the
English, and to our State, that rewarded the west country evil for good.
Ver. 14, 19, tell us how we should advise before we begin a war, and leave
no mean of composing difference and state unessayed. We did more in it
than the English, but not all we might have done. Ver. 15, with chap.
xviii. 5, is a dreadful sentence against the public judicatories, that all
their resolutions, papers, and practices, justify the wicked and ungodly
as honest faithful men, and condemn all approven faithful men, that cannot
go along in such courses, or were earnest to have them repent, as both
malignants and sectaries. Do they not pronounce all malignants friends,
and absolve them from the sentences and classes they stand under? And do
they not put the godly in their place? They relax the punishment of the
one, and impute transgression to the other, and so bring them under a law.
See Exod. xxiii. 7, Prov. xxiv. 24 , Isa. v. 23, and the 29th verse of
this chapter. It is not good to punish godly men, who have given constant
proof of their integrity, for abstaining from such a course, at least
having so much appearance of evil, that many distinctions will never make
the multitude to believe that we are walking according to former
principles, because their sense observes the quite contrary practices, &c.
Chap. xviii. 2, (“A fool hath no delight in understanding, but that his
heart may discover itself”) shows that if the present cause and course
were of God, and tended so much to his glory, fools or wicked men would
have no such delight in it. For they delight in nothing but what is
agreeable to their humour, to discover themselves, &c. Ver. 3 gives the
true reason, why our public judicatories and armies are so base and
contemptible, why contempt and shame is poured on them, because, “when the
wicked comes, then also comes contempt, and with the vile man reproach.”
Ver. 13 “He that answereth a cause before he hears it, it is folly and
shame unto him.” Many pass peremptory sentence upon the honest party in
the west before they hear all parties, and be thoroughly informed, and
this is a folly and shame to them. They hear the state and church, and
what they can say for their way, and indeed they seem just, because they
are first in with their cause, and they will not hear another. But he that
comes after will make inquiry, and discover those fallacies. Ver. 24
“There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.” A godly
neighbour, not so near in natural bonds to us, that is a surer friend than
many brethren in the flesh. These bonds of country and kindred, should all
cede to God’s interest. See chap. xvii. 17.
Chap. xix. 22. “A man’s desire is his kindness and a poor man is better
than a liar.” The godly that cannot concur in the public cause, being
disabled, through an invincible impediment of sin lying in the way and
means made use of, are better friends, and have more real good will to the
establishment and peace of the land, than any ungodly man, let him be
never so forward in the present course. Ver. 10. Pleasure and its
attendants are not comely for a wicked man, (i.e. a foolish man) much less
for a servant, (i.e. men enthralled in their lusts,) to rule over princes
(i.e. godly men, highly privileged by God). All things that are good do
ill become them, but worst of all to have power and superiority over good
men, ver. 25, joined with chap. xxi. 11. Ringleaders of wickedness,
refractory and incorrigible persons, should have been made examples to
others, and this would have prevented much mischief. The scripture gives
ground for putting difference between the scorner and simple, seducers and
seduced.
Chap. xx. 6, xxi. 2, and xvi. 2. “Most men will proclaim every one his own
goodness, but a faithful man who can find?” It is no great wonder that
malignants say they repent, and the state and church say they keep the
same principles. For who will say any evil of himself? Ver. 8. Magistrates
should scatter away evil men with their countenance, by denying it to
them, and looking down on them. How, then, do our rulers gather them? Ver.
3, shows that war and strife should not be kept up but in extreme
necessity. Fools “will be meddling.” Ver. 11, shows that the best way of
judging of men is by their doings and fruits, not strained words and
confessions. But those who, upon a bare profession, pronounce a
notour(400) malignant a friend, having no proof of his integrity, and will
not have any judged such, but such as judicially are debarred, yet
contrary to all the testimony of works and fruits, judge and condemn
honest men as traitors, though not judicially convicted. Certainly divers
measures are an abomination to the Lord, as in ver. 10. Then in ver. 25
sacrilege is described, and covered perjury, which is a snare to the soul
that commits it. He “devoureth that which is holy,” i.e. applieth to a
common use these things God hath set apart, and commanded to be kept holy,
as our profaning of repentance and absolution, by casting such pearls to
swine, and for our own advantage, making a cloak of them to bring in
wicked men, contrary to the very nature and institution of the ordinance,
also our prostituting of our covenant and cause, most holy things to
maintain unholy or common interests,—our committing his holy things to
them that will devour them. “And after vows to make inquiry,” to dispute
now, that we did not bind ourselves in the case of necessity, not to
employ wicked men, whereas the ground is perpetual and holds in all cases,
shows either temerity, in swearing,—or impiety, in inquiring afterward and
changing. See Deut. xxiii. 21. Then ver. 26. “A wise king scattereth the
wicked, and bringeth the wheel over them.” O that our magistrates were so
wise! Is the act of levy a scattering of the wicked? Is the act of
indemnity a bringing the wheel over them? Psal. ci. 8. “I will early
destroy,” &c.
In Chap. xxi. 10. “The soul of the wicked desireth evil, his neighbour
findeth no favour in his eyes.” The wicked’s principles can carry nowhere
but to evil, and to do evil to good men. Ver. 8. His way and life is full
of horrible and tragical chances. But a good man’s work is easy and
pleasant, directs to a good and peaceable end, Isa. xxvi. 7. Ver. 12. A
righteous man should have his wit about him, to consider ungodly houses
and families, and persons that God hath visible controversies with, that
he may not communicate with them in their judgments. Ver. 16. It is a sad
wandering out of the way, when a man leaves the congregation of the living
to abide among the dead,—dead in sins and appointed to death. It is a
great judgment as well as sin. Ver. 27, with the 4, and places before
cited, show how abominable the external professions and pretences of
wicked men are, when contradicted by their practice, especially if they do
it but out of a wicked mind, when they intend to effect some mischief,
under the colour of repentance and being reconciled to the church, as
Absalom’s vow at Hebron, as Balaam and Balak and the Pharisees, who under
pretence of long prayers devoured widows’ houses, as Jezebel’s fast, and
as the people, (Isa. lviii. 4.) who fasted for strife and debate, and to
strike with the fist of wickedness. All men know that the church is the
ladder to step up upon to go to preferment, and repentance the door to
enter to places of trust.
Chap. xxii. 3. “A prudent man foreseeth the evil and hideth himself, but
the simple pass on and are punished.” He is a wise man that knows the
judgment of the Lord, as the stork and swallow the time of their coming,
that in the consideration of sins and threatenings, and comparing things
spiritual with spiritual, apprehendeth judgment coming on such a course
and such a party, and hides himself, goes aside, retires to a covert, by
avoiding these evils, and the least fellowship with them that bring it on,
and eschewing such a society as hath the cloud hanging directly above
their head. But simple idiots and blind worldlings go on headlong, and
dread nothing, and are punished, ver. 5. Most grievous plagues and
punishments and all manner of unhappiness encumbereth their wicked life.
Therefore he that would keep himself pure and clean (1 John v. 18.), and
save his own soul, shall be far from them, shall keep himself far from
such people. He prays with Job, “Let their counsel be far from me.” Job
xxi. 16, 17. Because their good is not in their hand, their candle is oft
put out, &c. And he resolves with Jacob, My soul shall not enter into
their secret, to have such intimacy with them as join counsels with them,
Gen. xlix. 6. And ver. 10, 11, Cast out of thy company, family,
jurisdiction, the scorner that contemns the godly men, and mocks
instruction for such men are infectious, and able to corrupt all they
converse with. But cast him out, and contention shall go out with him.
It is such only that mars the union of the godly, that stirs up strife,
and foments divisions. Thou shalt have more peace, and be more free from
sin and shame. But sound hearted upright men, who deal faithfully, not to
please but to profit,—you should choose these to intrust and rely upon,
those should be friends of kings. Ver. 14. As a harlot’s allurements are
like pits to catch men, so the allurements of wicked ungodly men, their
power, policy, &c., and their fair speeches and flatteries, are a deep
ditch to catch men in to this spiritual whoredom and fornication spoken
of. Ezek. xxiii. And he whom God is provoked with, by former wickedness,
falls into it, Eccl. vii. 26, Ver. 24, 25. “Make not friendship with an
angry man and with a furious man thou shalt not go,” &c. And is not
association in arms with such, as friends against an enemy, a making
friendship with them we are sworn to hold as enemies? If we may not
converse with a furious passionate man, how then with men of blood,
enraged, whose inveterate malice hath now occasion to vent against all the
godly? For thou wilt learn his ways, as we have always seen it by
experience, and thou wilt get a snare to thy soul. If thou go not in his
ways you cannot agree, you will fall out and quarrel, and that is a snare
to thee. Ver. 28. “Remove not the ancient land-mark which thy fathers
have set.” If it be so dreadful and accursed to remove our neighbour’s
marks and bounds, O! how much more to change and alter God’s land-mark,
his privileges, oaths and covenants, &c. And chap. xxiii. 10, 11, Deut.
xix. 14 and xxvii. 17.
Chap. xxiii. 1, 7. “When thou sittest to eat with a ruler, consider
diligently what is before thee. For as he thinketh in his heart so is
he,” &c. Consider diligently what men are, not what they pretend and seem
to be. For as they think, so are they, not as they pretend with their
tongue and countenance, but as they think in their heart, which is better
evidenced by their common and habitual speaking and walking, than any
deliberate and resolved profession contrived of purpose. But if thou
consider not this, the morsel thou hast eaten thou shalt vomit up. Thou
shalt dearly pay for thy credulity, and lose all thy sweet words. Ver. 23.
“Buy the truth and sell it not,” &c. Do not we sell the truth, and cause,
and all, into the hands of the enemies of all? whereas we ought to ransom
the kingdom’s liberty and religious interest, with the loss of all
extrinsic interest that does but concern the accession of one’s honour.
Yet we sell, endanger, and venture all for that.
Chap. xxiv. 1. “Be not thou envious against evil men, neither desire thou
to be with them.” Godly men’s hearts are often tickled to be acquainted
with, in league and friendship with wicked men, when they have power, that
they may not be hurt by them. But seeing there is no society between
light and darkness, let not the godly desire to be with them, (as in chap.
xxiii. 17,) but rather to be in God’s fear always. That is good company.
The reason is (verse 2,) their heart studies the destruction of the godly,
(why then would thou walk with thine enemy?) and you shall hear nothing
but mischief on their lips. Ver. 12. It is not according to men’s words
but works they should be judged. And why do not we follow that rule in
our judging? Do we mock God as one mocks another? Job xxxiv. 11, Psal.
lxii. 12, Jer. xxxii. 19, Rom. ii. 6, Ver. 21, &c. Men given to change,
false deceitful men, meddle not with such, if thou either fear God or
respect man. For such will be sure to no interest but their own. Then
calamity shall come suddenly. Therefore have nothing to do with them. For
“who knoweth the ruin of them both,” of them and all other wicked men, or
of both them and the king, if wicked? Also to the wise and godly this
belongs, “It is not good to have respect of persons in judgment,” whether
he be king or nobleman. A righteous state respects not the person of the
prince and mighty, saith Job. But he that says to the righteous, you are
wicked sectaries, and also malignants, because ye will not approve all
their resolutions, and to the wicked, “thou art righteous,” to the
malignants, you are the honest men, the blessed of the Lord,—who did ever
to this day fall under Meroz’ curse, should the people approve him? No
certainly, “Him shall the people curse, and the nations shall abhor him,”
or them. But a blessing on them that would reprove our sins and search
them out, ver. 25. The malignant party are even speaking so as the
classers and purgers did to us, even so will we do to them. But God will
render to them according to their work, ver. 29.
Chap. xxv. 2. “It is the honour of kings to search out a matter.” It is a
king and judge’s glory to search out a matter, to try dissemblers before
they trust them. God’s glory is to pardon. Man’s glory is to administer
justice impartially. Ver. 4, 5, show what need there is of purging places
of trust, especially about the king. Dross cannot be melted. Take what
pains you will, it will not convert into a vessel and become useful. This
mixed in, obstructs all equity, justice, and piety, where it is. The
ruler should be the refiner to purge away this dross, and the army, or
judicatory, or kingdom, is a vessel. You shall never get a fined vessel
for use and service till you purge away the dross, Psal. ci. 4. Then,
(ver. 8) we should follow peace with all men as much as is possible, never
to begin strife or draw the sluice of contention. But if we be wronged,
we should not for all that go out hastily to strife, till, 1. The justice
and equity of the cause appear, 2. That the matter whereabout we contend
be of great moment, a ground to found a war upon, 3. That we first use all
means of peace and agreement possible, 4. That we overmatch not ourselves
with those who are too strong for us, (see chap. xvii. 14) “lest” thou be
brought to that extremity that “thou know not what to do.” Thus Christ
adviseth, Luke xiv. 31. I am persuaded this would plead much in reason to
yield security to England, so be it our wrong were repaired, and no more
done. Ver. 19 shows what the employment of unfaithful men, who mean
nothing less than they pretend, is. They fail when most is expected, and
hurt beside, as Job’s friends, chap. vi. 15. And ver. 26. A righteous and
upright man, consenting with a wicked man in sin, or, through fear of him,
not daring to do his duty, turning to him and his way, or dallying and
flattering him in his iniquity, is like “a troubled fountain,” is not good
and profitable for edification nor correction, having troubled the purity
of his soul through the mud of carnal respects and interests. Corruption
within is the mire, the wicked’s seducements are like the beast’s
trampling it with his foot. And he is like a corrupt, infected, and
poisoned fountain, more ready to infect and draw others by his example.
Ver. 27. A man should not seek honour and preferment that is base and
shameful. None of the trees longed for sovereignty but the bramble.
Chap. xxvi. 1. “As snow in summer and as rain in harvest, so honour is
not seemly for a fool.” It is as unseemly, prodigious, and destructive a
thing, to give honours, promotions, and trust to a wicked man, as snow and
much rain in harvest, a reproach and punishment more becomes him than
honour, the reward of goodness (as ver. 3), a whip, rod, and bridle are
more for him, to restrain him from wrong and provoke him to goodness.
Ver. 6. He that commits an errand or business to a wicked man and
intrusts him with it, is as unwise in so doing, as if he did cut off the
messenger’s feet he sent. He deprives himself of the means to compass it.
He sends a lame man to run an errand. He is punished by himself as if he
had cut off his own feet, and procureth sorrow and discontent to himself,
as if he were compelled to drink nothing but what is contrary to his
stomach. Ver. 7. All good speeches halt and limp in evil men’s mouths,
for there is no constancy in their mouths. Within they are very
rottenness. “Out of the same mouth come blessing and cursing,” James iii.
10. Their very words agree not, the public and extraordinary crosses the
private and ordinary. And their actions have less harmony with their
words. Professing they know God, in works they deny him &c. Ver. 8. To
give a madman a weapon, what else is it but to murder? To bring shot to an
ordinance which may do much mischief to himself and others, is to be
accessory to that mischief. So to give “honour to a fool.” He hath given
power to them and put them in a capacity to do evil, and set them on work
again to perfect their designs against good men. Ver. 9. As a drunken man,
with a thorn in his hand, can make no use of it, but to hurt himself and
others, so wicked men’s good speeches and fair professions commonly tend
to some mischief. These but cover their evil designs and yet the covering
is shorter than that it can hide them. Ver. 10. Wicked rulers (look the
margin(401)) grieve and molest the subjects: and the means to effect this
is, to employ the fool and transgressor, to give offices and countenance
to evil men, which may be instruments of their lust, so Abimelech, Judges
ix. 4, so Jezebel, 1 Kings xxi. 10, so in Neh. vi. 12. Ver. 11. The dog,
feeling his stomach surcharged, goes to the grass,—as our malignants to
profess repentance,—and casts up that which troubles him, by a feigned
confession. But because there is no change in his nature, he is inwardly
stirred by his old principles to lick up that vomit, to commit and
practise what he professed repentance for, yea, and to profess the same he
pretended sorrow for. When power is confirmed in their hand they will
return to their folly. Ver. 17. What else is our interposing ourselves in
the king’s quarrel concerning England, though we have interest in it to
endeavour it in a peaceable way, if he were fit for it, yet in comparison
of our kingdom and religion’s safety, which may be ruined by war, it is no
such matter as belongeth to us. And so it falls out, we are like a man
taking a dog by the ears to hold him, we have raised up many enemies, and
provoked them to bite us. We cannot hold them long from destroying him,
and we provoke them more by holding them, in espousing his quarrel, as
Jehoshaphat joining with Ahab. We had done well to interpose ourselves
between the king and them to make peace, but to side with one party was
not well done. Verses 18, 19. Furious and bloody men take all
opportunities to hurt others, especially good men, and so deceive those
employed. But they do it under a pretence. As a scorner reproacheth under
a pretence of sport, so they, under other pretences, of wrongs done, of
the country’s defence, &c. Verses 20, 24, show the way to prevent trouble
and keep peace. As a contentious turbulent person would inflame a whole
country and put them by the ears, so a person, though not contentious in
his own nature, yet having many contentious interests following him, which
he will not quit, or commit to God’s providence, as our king was. O it is
the destruction of a nation to have such a person among them. He hath
broken the peace of two kingdoms. Verses 23, 24, 25, 26. Burning lips, hot
and great words of love and friendship, and a wicked heart revenging its
enmity, and minding nothing less than what is spoken, is like a potsherd,
a drossy piece covered over with the fairding(402) of hypocrisy, or, like
a sepulchre garnished and painted, he dissembles and speaks vanity, and
flatters. Psal. xii. 3. But he lays up his wicked purposes close within
him till a time of venting them. Therefore when he speaks so fair and
courteously, be not confident of him, trust him not too far till thou have
proof of his reality. Put not thyself and thy dearest interests into his
mercy. This is wisdom, and not want of charity, Jer. xii. 6; Micah vii. 5.
Cain, Joab, and Judas, are proofs of this. It may be covered a time, but
not long. _Naturam expellas furca licet, usque recurret_.(403) All the
world shall be witness of it, Psal. cxxv. So then, (ver 21.) the
calumniator and false accuser, who openly professes his hatred and malice,
and the flatterer that seems to be moved with love, both of them produce
one effect, viz., ruin and calamity.
Chap. xxvii. 3, 4. “A stone is heavy, and the sand weighty, but a fool’s
wrath is heavier than them both,” &c. We see what we may expect of the
enraged, exasperated malignant party. Their wrath against all the godly,
for their faithful secluding and purging them out of places of trust, is
weighty and insupportable like the sand of the sea. It will crush them
under it if God support not. It is like a swelling river, or a high spring
tide, it goes over all banks, since the state and church have drawn the
sluice and let it out. But when it is joined with envy and malice, against
godliness and piety itself, who can stand before that? No means can quench
that heat. Ver. 6: Faithful men’s reproofs, remonstrances, and warnings,
applied in love and compassion, are better than an enemy’s kisses and
flatteries, than his oils and ointments are. Therefore we would pray
against the one, and for the other, that God would smite us with the mouth
of the righteous, but keep us from the dainties of the wicked Joabs,
Judases, and Ahithophels. Verse 8 speaks sadly against ministers that
withdraw from their charges so unnecessarily, as a bird that wandereth too
long from her nest: the young starve for cold or famine, or are made a
prey. So these who, having no necessary call to be elsewhere, especially
not being members of the Commission, yet stay not with their flocks, are
guilty of their soul’s ruin. Ver. 10: O how doth this speak against the
present course of judicatories! They have forsaken their old faithful
friends, when they proved ever constant, and have gone in to their wicked
countrymen’s house in the day of their calamity. But a neighbour in
affection and piety, is nearer than a brother in flesh and near in
habitation.
Chap. xxviii. 1: “The wicked fleeth when no man pursueth; but the
righteous is bold as a lion.” Wicked men are now chosen for stoutness and
courage, but they have no sure foundation for it. It is but like the rage
and temerity of a madman or drunkard. But godly men, once satisfied in
grounds of conscience about their duty, would have been bold as lions. A
good conscience would have made them bold, Psal. cxii. 7, 8, Lev. xxvi.
36. Now, ver. 2, behold the punishment of our sins, our governors are
changed, there is almost a total alteration, and we are faces about, which
cannot but bring ruin to the land, especially when men of understanding
and piety are shut out. Ver. 4, with chap. xxix. 27: It is a great point
and argument of declining and forsaking the law of God, when men praise
the wicked, change their names though they themselves be not changed, and
leave off contending with, or declaring against them, and do rather plead
for them. But godly men, that keep the law, contend with, discountenance,
and oppose them, as David, “I hate them that hate thee,” and earnestly
contend with them. Thus they are kept from partaking with other men’s
sins. Ver. 5: It is not very likely that all the ungodly should now
understand the duty of the times and discern the right way, and that so
many that fear God understand it not, seeing the Lord’s secret is revealed
to them, Psal. xxv. 14. Verses 6, 7: A poor man, and weak means, if they
be of upright men, are better and stronger than many rich and strong
perverters. A companion of evil men and a keeper of the law agree not in
one person; the one is an honour, the other a shame to all that have
interest in them. Ver. 9: Their prayers and professions are abomination,
no acceptation of those that turn away their ears from obedience to the
law, who walk contrary to it. Ver. 10: These cunning and crafty men that
have enticed some godly men, and led them on in the present course, shall
themselves smart for it, when the godly seduced shall see good things
after all this. Ver. 12: When wicked men have power and trust, good men
hide and retire themselves from such a congregation or assembly of the
wicked. See chap. x. 10, 11. Should we thus choose our own plague,
tyranny, oppression, calamity, and misery, and cast away our own glory?
Then, (ver. 13) repentance requires time and ingenuous confession, and
real forsaking. If both these join not, it is but a covering and hiding of
sin. If a man confess, and yet walk and continue in them, he is but using
his confession as a covering to retain his sins, and such shall not find
mercy of God, or prosper before men. Ver. 14: It is not so despisable a
thing to fear alway, and to be very jealous of sin as it is now made. It
is counted a reproach to have any scruples at the present course. But
happy is he that abstaineth from all appearance of evil, but he that
emboldeneth himself, and will not question any thing that makes for
advantage, falls into mischief. Ver. 15, 17 show the lamentable condition
of a people under wicked rulers. They are beasts and not men towards the
people, especially towards the best, Dan. vii. 4, 5, Zeph. iii. 3. Ver.
17: How doth that agree with our sparing of bloody men, of our soliciting
for their impunity, of our pardoning them? Are they not, by the
appointment of God’s law, ordained for destruction, and haste to it?
Should any then stay them? Should they not then far less employ them? And,
(ver. 24) if it be so heinous to take our father’s goods upon this
pretence, because they are our own, how much more sacrilege is it to rob
God of his interests, and give over his money to bankrupts, and say it is
no transgression to rob the land of its defence, and make them naked, as
Ahaz his confederacy did? Certainly it is murder. Ver. 28 and chap. xxix.
2 and xi. 12 and xxviii. 28 are to one purpose. We have forsaken our own
mercy and wronged our own souls; and destroyed ourselves in choosing our
own judgment, and making our own rod to beat us withal. Chap. xxix. 1: We
being so often reproved by his word and providence for the sin of
association with the wicked, and being so lately punished for it, and
having so lately reproved ourselves for it in our declarations and fasts,
yet to harden our necks, what can we expect but utter destruction, and
that without remedy, as we sentenced ourselves? Ezra ix. 13 and xiv. 13,
Isa. xxx. 13, 14. Shall not this iniquity be to us a breach ready to fall,
even this iniquity of going down to Egypt for help, &c. Then, (ver. 6)
there is a snare to entrap thy feet in the sins of the wicked; if thou be
joined with them, thou cannot well escape. Ver. 8: Wicked profane
contemners of God and his people bring ruin on a city or commonalty, they
set it on fire and blow it up. But godly men pacify wrath, turn away
judgments, and purge all from provocations, which is the only means to
turn it away. Ver. 16 shows, when wicked men gather together, and grow in
state and power, they grow worse, and sin with greater boldness, and
transgression then overflows the land, _tanquam ruptis repagulis_.(404)
There is no obstacle. See Psal. xii. And ver. 24 shows, he that is partner
and fellow receiver with a thief, or conceals such offenders, endangers
his own destruction; and he that stays with, and associates with wicked
men, must hear cursing and cannot bewray it. He will see many
abominations, that though he would, he cannot remedy. Ver. 25: Fear of man
and of the land’s danger, hath brought many into a snare, to run from the
Lord to an arm of flesh, but he that trusts in the Lord shall be safe.
Ver. 27: Here is the deadly enmity between the two seeds, they cannot
reconcile well. See ver. 10 and chap. xxi. 3. It is no wonder the godly
abominate such men who are God’s enemies and the land’s plague.
Chap. xxx. 11, 14 describes the malignant party, who make nothing of the
godly magistrates or their mother church and land, but curse, malign,
oppose as much as they could, and are oppressors, monstrous tyrants,
mankind beasts, or beastly men. The subject of their cruelty is the godly
afflicted man. They eat up all and will not leave the bones, as the
prophet complains, “I lie among men whose teeth are as spears and arrows,
and their tongue a sharp sword.” And then, ver. 12, 13, 20 describe our
enemies, the invaders. They think themselves godly and righteous, yet are
not purged from their filthiness. They are given up to strong delusions to
believe lies, and there is no lie greater than this, that they are a godly
party in a godly cause and way. They wipe their mouth after all their
bloodshed, and say, I have done no evil. They wash their hands, as Pilate,
as if they were free of the blood of these just men, whose souls cry under
the altar. Ver. 21-23: It is a burden to the world and a plague to
mankind, when servants, unworthy men, and persons unfit for high places
are set in authority, and when wicked men have their desire of plenty and
honour, (chap. xix. 10.) and when an odious woman, or men of hateful
vicious dispositions, come to preferment and are espoused by a
state,—nought they were while alone, but worse now when they have crept
into the bed and bosom of the state; her roots were nought before, but now
she is planted in rank mould, and will shoot forth her unsavoury branches
and blossoms,—and when handmaids, kept in a servile estate because of
their disposition and quality, get their masters ushered out, and they
become heirs, at least possessors of the inheritance or trust. Ver. 33
shows how necessarily war and contention follow upon unnecessary
provocations by word or deed, such as we have given many to England,
though indeed they have given moe.(405) And lastly, chap. xxxi. 20, 26, 31
shows how word and work should go together, and men should be esteemed and
praised according to their works and fruit of their hands.
A TREATISE OF CHRISTIAN LOVE.
John xiii. 35. “By This Shall All Men Know That Ye Are My Disciples, If Ye
Have Love One To Another.” First Printed At Edinburgh In 1743.
To The Reader.
This treatise concerning Christian Love, was composed by the pious and
learned Mr. Hugh Binning who was minister of the gospel at Govan, near to
Glasgow. He was much celebrated and esteemed in this church, for several
practical treatises, frequently printed for the benefit of the public, but
this is not inferior to any of them.
Though there have been many excellent discourses in late years on this
divine subject, yet, considering that there never was a time wherein a
treatise of this kind was more seasonable and necessary than the present,
when the love of many, of too, too many, is waxed cold, and this holy fire
is almost extinguished, this cannot be thought to be superfluous.
The author was a minister of a most pacific temper, and this amiable grace
and virtue did illustriously shine forth in him; and in this discourse, he
breathes with a spirit of love in the most affecting and gaining manner,
so that, I dare say, that, though it be above ninety years since he
composed it, it does not fall short of any performance of this kind that
has since appeared in public.
This treatise, with a great number of excellent sermons, preached by this
able minister of the gospel, many of which have never been printed, in a
manuscript in folio, was found in the late Rev. Mr. Robert Wodrow,
minister at Eastwood, his library, and all care has been taken to publish
it faithfully, without any alteration either by adding or diminishing any
thing from it.
This divine subject of Christian love he lays a great stress upon; he
shows that there is a greater moment and weight in Christian charity, than
in the most part of those things for which some Christians bite and devour
one another. It is the fundamental law of the gospel, to which all
positive precepts and ordinances should stoop. Unity in judgement is very
necessary for the well being of Christians, and Christ’s last words
persuade this, that unity in affection is most essential and fundamental.
This is the badge that he left to his disciples; if we cast away this upon
every different apprehension of mind, we disown our Master, and disclaim
his token and badge.
Mr. Binning treats of this subject in a most sublime and pathetic strain;
he explains the nature of this grace, discourses of the excellent
properties and blessed effect and fruits of it, in a ravishing and
captivating manner. There is such a variety of beauties in this treatise,
that they deserve to be noticed in this preface, and particularly, his
admirable commentary on the 13th chapter of the First Epistle to the
Corinthians, wherein he outstrips all that went before him and, in fine,
he enforces the exercise of this grace with the most convincing argument
and the most powerful motives. And now, not to detain the reader from the
perusal, it is earnestly wished that the end of the publication may, by
the blessing of God, be obtained, which is, that Christians in our days
may be as the primitive ones,—of one mind and of one heart, and that they
may love one another with a pure heart fervently.
Chapter I.
The beauty and excellency of this world consists, not only in the
perfection and comeliness of each part in it, but especially in the wise
and wonderful proportion and union of these several parts. It is not the
lineaments and colours that make the image or complete beauty, but the
proportion and harmony of these, though different severally. And truly
that is the wonder, that such repugnant natures, such different parts, and
dissentient qualities, do conspire together in such an exact perfect unity
and agreement, in which the wisdom of God doth most appear, by making all
things in number, weight and measure. His power appears in the making all
the materials of nothing, but his wisdom is manifested in the ordering and
disposing so dissonant natures into one well agreeing and comely frame; so
that this orderly disposition of all things into one fabric, is that
harmonious melody of the creation, made up as it were of dissonant sounds,
and that comely beauty of the world, resulting from such a proportion and
wise combination of divers lines and colours. To go no further than the
body of a man, what various elements are combined into a well ordered
being, the extreme qualities being so refracted and abated as they may
join in friendship and society, and make up one sweet temperament!
Now, it is most reasonable to suppose, that, by the law of creation, there
was no less order and unity to be among men, the chiefest of the works of
God. And so it was indeed. As God had moulded the rest of the world into a
beautiful frame, by the first stamp of his finger, so he did engrave upon
the hearts of men such a principle, as might be a perpetual bond and tie
to unite the sons of men together. This was nothing else but the law of
love, the principal fundamental law of our creation, love to God, founded
on that essential dependence and subordination to God, and love to man,
grounded upon that communion and interest in one image of God. All the
commandments of the first and second table are but so many branches of
these trees, or streams of these fountains. Therefore our Saviour gives a
complete abridgment of the law of nature and the moral law, “Thou shalt
love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with
all thy mind, this is the first and great commandment. The second is like
unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself,” Matth. xxii. 37, 38,
39. And therefore, as Paul says, “Love is the fulfilling of the law,” Rom.
xiii. 10. The universal debt we owe to God is love in the superlative
degree, and the universal debt we owe one another is love in an inferior
degree, yet of no lower kind than that of our selves. “Owe no man any
thing, but to love one another” (Rom. xiii. 8), and that collateral with
himself, as Christ speaks. Unto these laws all other are subordinate, and
one of them is subordinate to the other, but to nothing else. And so, as
long as the love of God may go before, the love of man should follow, and
whatever doth not untie the bond of divine affection, ought not to loose
the knot of that love which is linked with it. When the uniting of souls
together divides both from God, then indeed, and only then, must this knot
be untied that the other may be kept fast.
But this beautiful and comely frame of man is marred. Sin hath cut in
pieces that divine love that knit man to God; and the dissolving of this
hath loosed that link of human society, love to our neighbour. And now all
is rents, rags, and distractions, because self love hath usurped the
throne. The unity of the world of mankind is dissolved, one is distracted
from another, following his own private inclinations and inordinate
affection, which is the poison of enmity, and seed of all discord. If the
love of God and of one another had kept the throne, there had been a
coordination and co-working of all men in all their actions, for God’s
glory and the common good of man. But now self love having enthroned
itself, every man is for himself, and strives, by all means, to make a
concurrence of all things to his own interest and designs. The first
principles of love would have made all men’s actions and courses flow into
one ocean of divine glory and mutual edification, so that there could not
have been any disturbance or jarring amongst them, all flowing into one
common end. But self-love hath turned all the channels backward towards
itself, and this is its wretched aim and endeavour, in which it wearies
itself, and discomposes the world, to wind and turn in every thing, and to
make, in the end, a general affluence of the streams into its own bosom.
This is the seed of all division and confusion which is among men, while
every man makes himself the centre, it cannot choose but all the lines and
draughts of men’s courses must thwart and cross each other.
Now, the Lord Jesus having redeemed lost man, and repaired his ruins, he
makes up this breach, especially restores this fundamental ordinance of
our creation, and unites men again to God and to one another. Therefore he
is our peace, he hath removed the seeds of discord between God and man,
and between man and man. And this is the subject of that divine epistle
which the beloved apostle, full of that divine love, did pen, “God is
love, and in this was the love of God manifested, that God sent his only
begotten Son into the world. And he that loveth is born of God, and
knoweth God, but we love God, because he loved us first, and if God so
loved us, we ought also to love one another.” 1 John iv. This is the very
substance of the gospel, a doctrine of God’s love to man, and of man’s
love due to God, and to them who are begotten of God, the one declared,
the other commanded. So that much of the gospel is but a new edition or
publication of that old ancient fundamental law of creation. This is that
paradox which John delivers, “I write no new commandment unto you, but an
old commandment, which you had from the beginning; again, a new
commandment I write unto you, which thing is true in him and you, because
the darkness is past, and the true light now shineth,” 1 John ii. 7, 8. It
is no new commandment, but that primitive command of love to God and men,
which is the fulfilling of the law; and yet new it is, because there is a
new obligation superadded. The bond of creation was great, but the tie of
redemption is greater. God gave a being to man, that is enough. But God to
become a miserable man for man, that is infinitely more. Fellow creatures,
that is sufficient for a bond of amity. But to be once fellow captives,
companions in misery, and then companions in mercy and blessedness, that
is a new and stronger bond. Mutual love was the badge of reasonable
creatures in innocency. But now Jesus Christ hath put a new stamp and
signification on it; and made it the very differential character and token
of his disciples, “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if
ye love one another.” And therefore, when he is making his latter will, he
gives this testamentary commandment to his children and heirs, “A new
commandment give I unto you, that ye love one another, as I have loved
you, that ye also love one another.” New indeed! For though it be the same
command, yet there was never such a motive, inducement, and persuasive to
it as this: “God so loved that he gave me, and I so loved that I gave
myself, that is an addition more than all that was before,” John xiii. 34,
35.
There is a special stamp of excellency put on this affection of love, that
God delights to exhibit himself to us in such a notion. “God is love,” and
so holds out himself as the pattern of this. “Be ye followers of God as
dear children, and walk in love,” Eph. v. 1, 2. This is the great virtue
and property which we should imitate our Father in. As God hath a general
love to all the creatures, from whence the river of his goodness flows out
through the earth, and in that, is like the sun conveying his light and
benign influence, without partiality or restraint, to the whole world, but
his special favour runs in a more narrow channel towards these whom he
hath chosen in Christ; so in this a Christian should be like his Father,
and there is nothing in which he resembles him more than in this, to walk
in love towards all men, even our enemies. For in this he gives us a
pattern, Matt. v. 44, 45: “But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless
them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them
which despitefully use you, and persecute you, that ye may be the children
of your Father which is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise on the
evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.” To
do good to all, and to be ready to forgive all, is the glory of God, and
certainly it is the glory of a child of God to be merciful as his Father
is merciful, and good to all, and kind to the unthankful. And this is to
be perfect as he is perfect. This perfection is charity and love to all.
But the particular and special current of affection will run toward the
household of faith, those who are of the same descent, and family, and
love. This drawn into such a compass, is the badge and livery of his
disciples. These two in a Christian are nothing but the reflex of the love
of God, and streams issuing out from it. A Christian walking in love to
all, blessing his enemies, praying for them, not reviling or cursing
again, but blessing for cursing, and praying for reviling, forgiving all,
and ready to give to the necessities of all, and more especially, uniting
the force of his love and delight, to bestow it upon these who are the
excellent ones, and delight of God, such a one is his Father’s picture, so
to speak. He is partaker of that divine nature, and royal spirit of love.
Gal. vi. 10: “As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all
men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith.” 1 Thess.
iii. 12, 13: “And the Lord make you to increase and abound in love one
towards another, and towards all men, even as we do towards you, to the
end he may establish your hearts unblameable in holiness before God, even
our Father, at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, with all his saints.”
It is foretold by our Lord Jesus Christ, that in the last days the “love
of many shall wax cold,” Matt. xxiv. 12. And truly this is the symptom of
a decaying and fading Christian and church. Love is the vital spirits of a
Christian, which are the principles of all motion and lively operation.
When there is a deliquium(406) in these, the soul is in a decay; it is so
comprehensive an evil, as alone is sufficient to make an evil time. And
besides, it is the argument and evidence, as well as the root and
fountain, of abounding iniquity, because this is the epidemical disease of
the present time, love cooled, and passion heated, whence proceed all the
feverish distempers, contentions, wars and divisions, which have brought
the church of God near to expiring. Therefore being mindful of that of the
apostle, Heb. x. 24, I would think it pertinent to consider one another,
and provoke again unto love and to good works. It was the great charge
that Christ had against Ephesus, “Thou hast left thy first love.” I shall
therefore show the excellency and necessity of this grace, that so we may
remember from whence we have fallen and repent, that we may do the first
works, lest he come quickly and remove our candlestick, Rev. ii. 4, 5.