As a good conversation and good works should be joined to knowledge, and

meekness must be the ornament of both, this meekness of wisdom is the

great lesson that the wisdom of the Father came down to teach man. “Learn

of me, for I am meek.” And truly the meekness of that substantial wisdom

of God Jesus Christ, is the exact pattern and copy, and the most powerful

motive and constraint to this kindness of Christian wisdom. Our Saviour

did not cry nor lift up his voice in the streets. He made little noise,

nor cried with pomp, he was not rigorous, nor rigid upon sinners. Though

he was oppressed and afflicted yet he opened not his mouth, being reviled

he reviled not again, being cursed, he blessed. Though he could have

legions of angels at his command, yet he would show rather an example of

patience and meekness to his followers, than overcome his enemies. If

many of us, who pretend to be his disciples, had the winds, rains,

heavens, and elements at our commandment, I fear we would have burned up

the world. We would presently have called for fire from heaven, to devour

all whom we conceived enemies to him, or ourselves, and that under the

notion of zeal. Zeal it is indeed, but such as is spoken of in the next

verse. “If ye have bitter envying (the word is bitter zeal) in your

hearts, glory not, nor lie against the truth.” Christ’s zeal was sweet

zeal. It might well consume or eat him up within, but it did not devour

others without. “The zeal of thy house (says he) hath eaten me up.” But

our zeal is like the Babylonian furnace, that burnt and consumed these

that went to throw the pious children into it. At the first approaching

it gets without the chimney, and devours all around it. If the meekness

or gentleness of a person who received the greatest injuries that ever any

received, and to whom the greatest indignities were done, and who endured

the greatest contradiction of sinners, if his calm composed temper do not

soften our spirits, mitigate our sharpness, and allay our bitterness, I

know not what can do it. I do not think but if any man considered how much

long suffering God exercises towards him, how gentle and patient he is,

after so many provocations, how Jesus Christ doth still forgive infinite

numbers of infinite wrongs done to his grace, how slow he is to wrath, and

easy to be entreated, surely such a man would abate much of his severity

towards others, he would pursue peace with all men, and esteem little of

wrongs done unto him, and not think them worthy of remembrance, he would

not be easily provoked, but he would be easily pacified. In a word, he

could not but exercise something of that gentleness and meekness in

forbearing and forgiving, as Christ also forgave him and truly there is no

ornament of a man like that of a meek and quiet spirit, 1 Pet. iii. 4. It

is both comely and precious, it is of great price in God’s sight. It is a

spirit all composed and settled, all peace and harmony within. It is like

the heavens in a clear day, all serene and beautiful, whereas an unmeek

spirit is for the most part like the troubled sea, tossed with tempests,

winds, and dashed with rains, even at the best, it is but troubled with

itself. When there is no external provocation, it hath an inward unrest

in its bosom, and casts out mire and dirt. Meekness is so beseeming every

man, that it is even humanity itself. It is the very nature of a man

restored, and these brutish, wild and savage dispositions put off.

Meekness is a man in the true likeness of God. But passion, and the evils

which accompany it, is a man metamorphosed and transformed into the nature

of a beast, and that of a wild beast too. It hath been always reckoned

that anger is nothing different from madness, but in the continuance of

it. It is a short madness. But what is wanting in the continuance is made

up in the frequency. When spirits are inclined to it, there is a habitual

fury and madness in such spirits. It is no wonder then, these are

conjoined, meekness and wisdom, for truly they are inseparable. Meekness

dwells in the bosom of wisdom. It is nothing else but wisdom, reason, and

religion ruling all within, and composing all the distempered lusts and

affections, but anger rests in the bosoms of fools, it cannot get rest but

in a fool’s bosom, for where it enters, wisdom and reason must go out,

Eccles. vii. 9. “A fool’s wrath is presently known,” Prov. xii. 16. For if

there were so much true and solid wisdom as to examine the matter first,

and to consider before we suffer ourselves to be provoked, we would

certainly quench anger in the very first smoking of an apprehension of a

wrong. We would immediately cast it out, for there is nothing so much

blinds and dimmeth the eye of our understanding, and when this gross

vapour rises out of the dunghill of our lusts, nothing so much uncovers

our shame and nakedness. “A prudent man covereth shame,” but hastiness and

bitterness takes the garment off our infirmity, and exposes us to mockery

and contempt, Prov. xii. 16. There is not a greater evidence of a strong

solid spirit, than this, to be able to govern this unruly passion, whereas

it is taken far otherwise. Meekness is construed by some to be simplicity

and weakness, and many imagine some greatness and height of spirit in the

hotter natures, but truly it is far otherwise. “For he that is slow to

anger, is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his own spirit, than

he that takes a city.” Wrath is an impotency and weakness. It hath no

strength in it, but such as ye would find in madmen. But this is true

magnanimity, to overcome thyself, and “overcome evil with good.”

As there is nothing which is a greater evidence of wisdom, so there is

nothing a better help to true wisdom than this. For a meek spirit is like

a clear running fountain, that ye see the bottom of, but a passionate

spirit is like a troubled fountain, the shadow of truth cannot be seen in

it. A glass that is pure and cleanly, renders the image lively, but if it

be besmeared with dust, you can see nothing, so is a composed mild spirit

apt to discern the truth without prejudice. And indeed it is the meek whom

God engages to teach his ways, Psal. xxv. 8, 9. He that receives with

meekness the ingrafted word, is in the readiest capacity to receive more.

When the superfluity of naughtiness is cast out, and all the faculties of

the soul composed to quietness and calmness, then his voice will best be

heard, and himself readiest to receive it. Our affection keeps a continual

hurry within the tumultuous noise of our disordered lusts, that are always

raging and controlling the voice of God, so that we cannot hear his

teaching. A passionate temper of spirit is very indocile. There are so

many loud sounds of prejudices within, that the truth cannot be heard. But

a meek spirit hath all quietness and silence, as Cornelius and his house

had waiting for the mind of the Lord. And such he delights to converse

with most, and reveal most unto, for it gets readiest entertainment. Let

me tell you, beloved in the Lord, you disoblige the Lord (if I may speak

so) and hinder him to reveal any more of his mind to you, ye disengage him

to teach you his way in those dark and untrodden paths, because ye do not

study this meekness in the wisdom and knowledge ye have already, nor his

meekness and moderation in seeking further knowledge. And it is no wonder

he be provoked by it, to choose your delusions, because it is certainly

these graces of meekness, charity, patience, gentleness, long suffering,

humbleness of mind, and such like, which go always in a chain together.

These are an ornament of grace upon the head, and a crown of glory, and

that chain about the neck, Solomon mentions, Prov. iv. 9. Now when you

cast off your crown of glory, your noblest ornament, your chain of

dignity, should he give such precious pearls to swine? When you trample

under foot the greater commandments of mercy, judgment, sobriety,

humility, meekness, and charity, should he reveal lesser commandments, or

discover his will in lesser matters? Consider the manner of expression

here, “Let him show forth out of a good conversation,” &c. Truly it is

good works with meekness of wisdom, it is a good conversation, with a true

profession, that shows forth a Christian, and shows him most before men.

“Let your light (says Christ) so shine before men.” What is the shining

beauty of Christian light? It is the works of piety, charity, equity, and

sobriety. These glorify the Father, and beautify all his children. You may

easily conceive what that is, that chiefly commends religion to the

ignorant world. Is it not the meekness of Christian wisdom? Is it not this

harmless simplicity, that divine-like candour, that shines in every true

Christian? Will rigidity, severity, passion, blood, violence, persecution,

and such like, ever conciliate the hearts of men? Have such persons any

beauty, any light in them, except a scorching consuming light? The light

of a good Christian is like the light of the sun, of a sweet, gentle, and

refreshing nature, conveying influence to all, doing good to the household

of faith. Peter will tell you what that is, that will most engage the

hearts of the world, to a reverend esteem of true religion, 1 Pet. ii. 12.

It is a conversation honest, and void of offence, giving to every one

their own due, honouring all men, loving the brotherhood, not using our

liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, and not overstretching it, to the

loosing of other natural or civil bands. When men see Christianity making

us do that really and cheerfully, which even nature itself teacheth all to

do that makes the light of it shining and beautiful. Are not these higher

mysteries of faith, than some conceive? It is not other points of truth

and profession, that are either above natural reason, or seem something

opposite to it, that can engage natural beholders, and far less the

prosecution of a temporal worldly interest of the people of God, to the

destruction of all opposite to it, at least to the diminishing of all

other men’s gain and advantage, the engrossing of all earthly privileges

into the hands of saints. That is such a thing that never entered into the

heart of the shining lights of the primitive times. O how doth the stream

of their exhortations run cross to this notion! I am sure there is nothing

in its own nature, such a stumbling block to the world or represents

religion so odious and abominable to other men, as when it stands in the

way, and intercepts all these natural immunities or privileges of life, or

estate. This makes natural men to hate it, even at a distance, and become

irreconcilable enemies unto it. Since it will not let them live by it,

they are engaged not to let it live by them. I wish indeed all the places

of power and trust in every nation, were in the hands of godly men, not so

much for the interest of the godly as for the public interest, because men

fearing God, and hating covetousness, can only rule justly and

comfortably. But to monopolize all power and trust to such a particular

judgment and way (as it is now given out) is truly, I think, inhuman and

unchristian. These deserve not power and trust who would seek it, and

engross it wholly to themselves.(438) But there is another thing which

savours greatly of the flesh, at least of that spirit which Christ

reproved in his disciples, to take away men’s lives, liberty, and

livelihood given by their Creator, upon every foot of opposition and

enmity to our way and interest. Is this to love our enemies, blessing them

that curse us, or praying for them that despitefully use us, or persecute

us? Let us remember we are Christians, and this is the rule of

Christianity, that stops even the mouth of adversaries. But some still

find an evasion for this. They will say they are God’s enemies, and not my

particular enemies only. But I pray you were not the enemies of Christians

in these days more properly enemies to Christ than now? For they had

nothing then to persecute them for, but the very profession of that name.

And truly I confess in our days we make more particular enemies, by

particular injuries and disobligements, than either our profession or

practice of religion make. But to put it out of all doubt, we learn that

they are persecutors, and do all manner of evil against us, for Christ’s

name sake. I have said this because I know nothing that more darkeneth and

obscures religion nor such worldly and temporal interests, so eagerly

pursued, and nothing makes it more to shine among men, than a good

conversation with meekness of wisdom.

Sermon V.

James iii. 14.—“But if ye have bitter envying,” &c.

The cunning of Satan, and the deceitfulness of our own hearts, are such

that when a grosser temptation will not prevail with conscience in some

measure enlightened, then they transform themselves into angels of light,

and deal more subtilely with us. And there is no greater subtilty of

Satan, nor no stronger self deceit, than this, to palliate and cover vices

with the shadow of virtue, and to present corruptions under the similitude

of graces. It is common unto all temptations to sin, to have a hook under

their bait, to be masked over with some pleasure or advantage or credit.

But when such earthly and carnal pretences do not insinuate strongly unto

a believing heart that has discovered the vanity of all that which is in

the world, so dare not venture upon sin for all the pleasures which attend

it, then he winds about and tarries and changes his likeness unto light,

conscience, and duty, presents many works of darkness and corruption under

the notion of duty and honesty, according as he finds the temper of a

man’s spirit to be. I can give no instance more pregnant, and even common,

than this which is given here, viz., contentions and strivings among

brethren, bitter envying, maligning and censuring one another, which are

very manifest works of the flesh, and works of darkness, fitter for the

night than the day, and for the time of ignorance, nor the time after the

clear light hath shined. Now if Satan were about to persuade a church or a

Christian of this, how do ye think he would go about it? Would he present

some carnal advantage to be gained by it, some more profit or preferment

from it? May be that might be very taking with some more unconscientious

self seeking spirits, and I fear it be too much taken with many. But sure

it will not relish with every man. It will not entice him that hath the

fear of God, and the love of Jesus stirring within him. Therefore he must

seek about, and find some false prophet, that may come out in the name of

the Lord, and disguise himself, and by such means he will do it. Let a

point of truth or conscience come in debate, let a notion of religion, and

one far off from an interest in Christ be in the business, and then he can

take advantage to make a man overreach himself in it. He will present the

truth as a thing of so great weight and consequence, that he must contend

for it, and empty all his wit and power and parts for it. This good

intention being established, he raises up men’s passions under a notion of

zeal, and these be promoved under that pretence for such an end.

Whatsoever mean may be sought, profitable for that end, all is chosen and

followed without discretion or knowledge of what is good or evil. It is

apprehended that the good principle of conscience, of duty, and the good

intention, may justify all. And by that means he hath persuaded the

churches of Christ, and the Christian world, unto more rigidity, severity,

cruelty, strife, contention, blood, violence, and such works of darkness,

than readily have been found in the times of ignorance. Is Christendom a

field of blood, rather than any other part of the world? Truly this is the

reproach of Christianity. By this, God’s name is daily blasphemed. Here

our apostle sets himself to unmask this angel of light, and to decipher

him in his own proper nature and notion. He takes off the vizard of

religion and wisdom, and lets you see the very image of hell under it.

“But if ye have bitter envying and strife, glory not.” Ye glory as if ye

had the truth, you glory in your zeal for it, you boast that ye are the

wise men, the religious men, and so you take liberty upon the account of

envy, to malign, despise, and contend with others. Glory not, if you

cherish such strifes and contentions, to the breach of Christian peace and

concord. You are liars against the truth, which you profess. Do not think

these proceed from true zeal, nay, nay, it is but bitter envy, and bitter

zeal. Do not flatter yourselves with an apprehension of wisdom, or

knowledge, or religion. That is wisdom indeed, but mark of what nature. It

is earthy, sensual, and devilish. And indeed, that is a foolish wisdom, to

say no worse of it.

You see, then, what need we have of the exhortation of the apostle (Eph.

vi. 11), “Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand

against the wiles of the devil.” Truly we may stand against his darts, and

violent open thrusts at our conscience; when we,(439) being ignorant of

his devices, and not acquainted with his depths (2 Cor. ii. 11, Rev. ii.

24) will not be able to stand against his ways. For we have a great and

subtile party to wrestle with, principalities and powers, and spiritual

wickedness in high places, or heavenly things (as some render the word).

He exercises much wickedness, spiritual invisible wickedness in heavenly

and religious things, in which it is hard to wrestle, unless we be endowed

with faith, knowledge, and righteousness, and shod with the gospel of

peace, the peaceable gospel reducing our spirits to a peaceable temper. I

conceive there is nothing the world hath been more abused with, than the

notion of zeal, justice, and such like, and there is nothing wherein a

Christian is more ready to deceive himself than this. Therefore I conceive

the Holy Ghost has undeceived us in this, and hath of purpose used the

word zeal as often in a bad sense as in a good one, and usually chooses to

express envy and malice by it, though another word might suit as well, and

be more proper. So here bitter zeal, ζηλος φρενος, is reckoned among the

works of the flesh, Gal. v. 20. And we are exhorted to walk honestly as in

the day, not in strife and envy, or zeal. And therefore the apostle

rebukes sharply the Corinthians: “Are ye not carnal, and walk as men,

whereas there is among you envying, or zeal, and strife,” 1 Cor. iii. 3.

Zeal is a vehemency of affection in any earnest pursuit, or opposition of

a thing, and to make it good, it must not only be fixed upon a commendable

and good object, but must run in the right channel, between the banks of

moderation, charity, and sobriety. If it overflows these, certainly that

excess proceeds not simply and purely from the love of God, or the truth,

but from some latent corruption or lust in our members, which takes

occasion to swell up with it. I find in scripture the true zeal of God

hath much self denial in it. It is not exercised so much concerning a

man’s own matters, as concerning the matters that are purely and merely

concerning God’s glory. It is the most flexible, condescending, and

forbearing thing in those things that relate to ourselves and our own

interests. Thus Moses is commended as the meekest man, when Aaron and

Miriam raise sedition against him, Num. xii. 3. He had not affections to

be commoved upon that account. But how much is he stirred and provoked

upon the apprehension of the manifest dishonour of God, by the people’s

idolatry? How many are lions in their own cause, and in God’s as simple

and blunt as lambs? And how much will our spirits be commoved when our own

interest lies in the business, and hath some conjunction with God’s

interest, but if these are parted, our fervour abates, and our heat cools?

I lay down this, then, as the fundamental principle of true zeal, it is

like charity that seeketh not its own things.

But to make the nature of it clear, I give you three characters of it,

verity, charity and impartiality. I say it hath truth in it, a good thing

for the object, and knowledge of that good thing in the subject, for the

principle of it: “It is good to be zealously affected always in a good

thing,” Gal. iv. 18. Zeal is an evil thing, hath something of the

impatient and restless nature of the devil in it. There is nothing we

should be more deliberate and circumspect in, than what to employ or

bestow our affections upon. We should have a certain persuasion of the

unquestionable goodness of that which we are ardent and vehement to

obtain, else the more ardour and vehemency, the more wickedness is in it.

The Jews had a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge, and that is a

blind impetuous self will. For if a man take a race at his full speed in

the dark, he cannot but catch a fall.(440) The eager and hot pursuits of

men are founded upon some gross misapprehensions.

Secondly, There must not only be a goodness supposed in the object, but

some correspondence between the worth and weight of that goodness and the

measure of our desires and affections, else there wants that conformity

between the soul and truth which makes a true zeal of God. I mean this,

the soul’s most vehement desires should be employed about the chiefest

good, and our zeal move in relation to things unquestionably good, and not

about things of small moment, or of little edification. This is the

apostolic rule, that not only we consider that there be some truth in the

thing, but that we especially take notice, if there be so much truth and

goodness as requires such a measure of vehemency and affection. Therefore

in lesser things we should have lesser commotion, and in greater things

greater, suitable to them. Otherwise the Pharisees who exercised their

zeal about trifles, and neglected the weightier matters of the law, (Matt.

xxiii. 23.) would not have been reproved by Christ. And indeed this is the

zeal to which we are redeemed by Christ. Tit. ii. 14. Be ye zealous of

good works, of works that are unquestionably good, such as piety, equity,

and sobriety. There is nothing more incongruous than to strain at a gnat

and swallow a camel, to spend the vital spirits upon things of small

concernment to our own or others’ edification, and to have nothing to

spare for the weightier matters of true godliness. It is as if a man

should strike a feather or the air with all his might: He must needs wrest

his arms. Even so, to strike with the spiritual sword of our affections,

with such vehemency, at the lighter and emptier matters of religion,

cannot choose but to disjoint the spirit, and put it out of course, as

there is a falsehood in that zeal that is so vehement about a light

matter, though it have some good in it. For there is no suitable

proportion between the worth of the thing and the vehemency of the spirit.

Imagination acts in both. In the one it supposes a goodness, and it

follows it, and in the other, it imposes a necessity and a worth far

beyond that which really is, and so raises up the spirit to that height of

necessity and worth that hath no being but in a man’s imagination. I think

there is no particular that the apostle doth so much caveat. For I find in

1 Tim. i. 4 he takes off such endless matters that minister questioning

rather than godly edifying, and gives us a better subject to employ our

zeal upon, ver 5, the great end and sum of all religion, love to God and

man, proceeding from a pure heart, a good conscience, and faith unfeigned,

from which we must needs swerve, when we turn aside to such empty and vain

janglings, ver 6. For truly we have but narrow and limited spirits, and it

must needs follow, when we give them very much to one thing, that they

cannot attend another thing seriously, as Christ declares, (Matt. vi. 24.)

“no man can serve two masters,” &c. And therefore there is much need of

Christian wisdom to single out and choose the most proper and necessary

object. For as much as we give other things that have not so much

connexion with that, we take from it as much; and the apostle counsels us,

(1 Tim. iv. 7.) rather to exercise ourselves unto true godliness, and to

the most substantial things in it, rather than vain things, and opposition

of science, chap vi. 3-5, 20. There he opposes the wholesome words of

Christ, and the doctrine that is according to godliness, unto questions,

and strifes of words, whereof comes envy, railings, evil-surmisings, and

perverse disputings of men of corrupt minds. And it is very observable

that he is pressing the duties of believing servants towards their

masters, whether believers or infidels, that the name of God be not

blasphemed, nor the gospel evil spoken of. For there is nothing so much

exposes it to misconstruction, as when it is stretched and abused unto the

prejudice of natural and civil duties, and doubtless there would be many

doubts and questions about it in these days, some contending for worldly

pre-eminence over the Pagans, and some for the levelling of all

Christians. But, says he, “If any man teach otherwise,” or contend about

this, “he is proud, knowing nothing,” &c. He hath forsaken the substance

of true godliness, which consists in good works shining before men, and

disabuses the notion of Christian liberty to the dishonour of Christ, and

hath supposed gain, a worldly carnal interest of the godly, to be piety,

and so pursues that fancy of his own. He renews this in the Second

Epistle, (chap. ii. 14-16.) showing that these strifes about words, albeit

they seem to be upon grounds of conscience at the beginning, yet they

increase unto more ungodliness, ver. 23. And unto Titus he gives the same

charge very solemnly, (Tit. iii. 8, 9.) “I will that thou affirm

constantly, that they who believe in God should be careful to maintain

good works. But avoid foolish and unlearned questions,” &c. For “this is a

faithful saying.” But again,

Thirdly, Zeal must have charity with it, and this all the scriptures cited

prove. It must be so tempered with love, that it vents not to the breach

of Christian peace and concord. Charity envieth not, or is not zealous.

When zeal wants charity, it is not zeal but envy. And hence it is that

there are so frequent and fervent exhortations to avoid such questions as

may gender strifes, and contentions, and malice. Now certainly there was

some truth in them, and something of conscience also in them. Yet he

dissuades entirely the prosecution of them to the rigour, as men are apt

to do, but wills us rather to have faith in ourselves. And truly I think

the questions that did then engender strifes, and rent the church, were as

much if not more momentous nor the most part of these about which we bite

and devour one another,—the questions of the law, the circumcision, and

eating of things sacrificed to idols, of things indifferent, lawful, or

not lawful. Yet all these he would have subordinated unto the higher end

of the commandment, charity, 1 Tim. i. 4, 5. And when he exhorts the

Corinthians to be zealous for spiritual gifts, he would yet have them

excel in these things which edify the church, 1 Cor. xiv. 1-12. “Covet

earnestly the best gifts,” says he, and yet he shows them a more excellent

way, and that is charity, (1 Cor. xiii. 1.) to do all these things for the

good and edification of the church, rather than of our own opinion, 1 Cor.

xii. 3; chap. xiv. 12. I find where the word zeal is taken in a bad sense

it hath these works of darkness attending it, wrath, strife, malice, &c.

Gal. v. 20; 1 Cor. iii. 3; Rom. xiii. 13. It is accompanied with such a

hellish crowd of noisome lusts. Let me add a differential character of it.

It is uncharitable, contentious, and malicious. It can do nothing,

condescend to nothing, and is conversant about nothing, but what pleases

our own humour, for the peace and unity of the church. It is a self-willed

impetuous thing, like a torrent that carries all down before it. But truly

right zeal runs calmly and constantly within the banks; it will rather

consume its own bowels within with grief, than devour others without.

Sermon VI.

Matth. xi. 28.—“Come unto me, all ye that labour, and are

wearied,” &c.

It is the great misery of Christians in this life, that they have such

poor, narrow, and limited spirits, that are not fit to receive the truth

of the gospel in its full comprehension; from whence manifold

misapprehensions in judgment, and stumbling in practice proceed. The

beauty and life of things consist in their entire union with one another,

and in the conjunction of all their parts. Therefore it would not be a fit

way to judge of a picture by a lineament, or of an harmony by a

discrepant, nor of the world by some small parcel of it; but take all the

parts together, all the notes and draughts, as conjoined by art in such an

order, and there appears nothing but beauty and consent. Even so it falls

out in our conceptions of the gospel. The straitness and narrowness of our

spirits takes in truth by parcels, disjointed from the whole, looks upon

one side of it, and sees not the other. As for example, sometimes there

appears unto us our duty and strait obligation to holy walking and this

being seen and considered alone, ordinarily fills the soul with some fear,

jealousies, and confusion. Another time, there rises out from under the

cloud, the mercy and peace of Christ in inviting, accepting, and pardoning

sinners, by his blood, that cleanses from all sin; and in that view (such

is our weakness and shortness of sight) there is nothing else presented

but pardoning grace; and hence there is occasion given to the corruption

of our hearts, to insinuate secretly and subtilely unto us some

inclinations to more liberty, and indulgence to the flesh. Thus you see

what stumbling in practice, and disorder in walking, this partial way of

receiving the truth occasioneth. But it hath no less influence upon the

many controversies and differences in doctrine and opinion, about grace

and works. For from whence arise these mistakes on both hands, but from

the straitness of our apprehensions, that we do not take the truth of God

in its full latitude, but being eager upon one part and zealous of it, we

almost lose the remembrance, and sometimes fall, in wrangling with the

other? Many that proclaim the free grace of the gospel, their fault is,

not that they make it freer than it is, for truly it is as free of any

Antinomian can apprehend it, but rather because they take it not in its

entire and full complexion, which best declares the freedom of it, as

comprehending both the pardon of sin and purity from sin, grace towards us

and grace within us; and so, while they only plead for the one, they seem

at least to oppugn the other. And, in like manner, others apprehending the

necessity, beauty, and comeliness of holiness and new obedience, are much

in pressing and declaring this in opposition to the other way; in which

there may be some mistake, not in making it more meritorious than it is,

but at leastwise(441) in such a manner it may be holden out, as may

somewhat obscure the freedom of God’s grace. The occasion of both these

misapprehensions may be from the scattering of these diverse parcels of

truth, as so many pearls in the field of the scripture; one is found here,

and one takes it up, as if there were no more; here is repentance, and

away he goes with that, without conjoining these scattered pieces into one

body. But yet our Saviour sometimes gives us complete sums and models of

the gospel, in which he presents all at one view at once, and especially

in these words now read. The sum of all the gospel is contained in two

words, “Come unto me,” and “take my yoke upon you.” All the duty of a

Christian, and all his encouragement is here. His duty is to believe in

Christ, and to give himself up to his obedience, and become his disciple,

and to follow his example; and his encouragement is the rest promised,

rest to his soul,—which is the only proper seat, of rest or disquiet. It

is most capable and sensible of both,—and this rest includes in its bosom,

not only peace and tranquillity of mind here, which all the creatures

combined cannot give, but all felicity besides; that eternal rest from all

the labours of this life, and complacency in the fruition of God for ever.

You see, then, what is the full invitation of the gospel. It is nothing

else but come, and have rest. “Take on an easy yoke, and ye shall find

rest. Come and be happy. Come and receive life. That which you seek

elsewhere, both ignorantly and vainly, here it is only to be found. Come

(says Christ), and I promise to give it unto you. Wait upon me by

obedience, and you shall at length find by experience, that rest which I

am willing to give you.”

I desire you may consider both the order and the connexion of these

integral parts of the gospel. The order of the gospel is a great part of

the gospel. In some things method is arbitrary, and it matters not which

go before, or which follow after, but here they become essential, and so a

great part of the matter itself. There must be first coming to Christ, and

then taking on his yoke; first believing, then obeying his commandments.

This is as essential an order, as is between the fruit and the root, the

stream and the fountain, the sun-beam and the sun. Will any man expect

fruit till he plant? There must then first be the implanting of the soul

into Christ by faith, and then in due season follow the fruits of

obedience by abiding in him. The perverting of this order makes much

disorder in the spirits and lives of Christians. But how can it choose but

all must wither and decay, if the soul be not planted by this river, whose

streams gladden the city of our God, if the roots of it be not watered

with the frequent apprehension and consideration of the grace of Christ,

or the riches of God’s mercy? The way and method of many Christians is

just opposite to this. For you labour and weary yourselves, how to attain

some measure and satisfaction in the latter, before you adventure the

first, to have the heart humbled by godly sorrow, and the soul inflamed by

love to God, and the yoke of his obedience submitted unto; while in the

mean time you deliberately suspend the exercise of faith, and apprehension

of the pardoning grace of Christ. Now, how this can consist either with

sound reason or religion, I do not see. For were it not a point of madness

to seek fruits from a tree that is lying above ground, and to refuse to

plant it till it give some experience of its fruitfulness in the air? And

what can be more absurd, than to imagine to have the Spirit of Christ

working in the heart godly sorrow, or Christian love, and so renewing it

again to his image, and yet withal Christ not received into the heart by

faith? Do you not know that this is his first entrance into the soul? He

enters there by the door of faith, and a soul enters into him at the door

of the promise by faith. How then do ye imagine he shall work in you,

before you will admit him to come in to you? Besides, either you apprehend

that you may attain to such gracious qualifications by your own industry

without Christ, which is blasphemous to his name and office; for if you

may, what need have you of him? Or, if you believe that he is the only

treasure of all grace and wisdom, and that all things are delivered to him

of the Father, then how do you seek these things without him? It must be

wretched folly to seek them elsewhere, and not come to him. And indeed it

is observable, that this exhortation to come unto Christ is subjoined unto

ver. 27, “All things are delivered unto me by the Father.” And therefore,

seeing all grace, and life, and happiness is enclosed in me, seeing

without me there is nothing but a barren wilderness, in which you may toil

and labour, and weary yourselves in fruitless pursuits, come hither where

it is originally and plentifully seated, and you cannot miss your end, nor

lose your labour. And for the farther illustration of this subject, I

shall only add that,

Secondly, There is another woful mistake possesses your minds who take up

this way, for certainly you must think that there is some worth or dignity

in it, whereby you intend to recommend yourselves unto Christ. For to what

purpose is that anxious and scrupulous exaction of such previous

qualifications, if it be not to give some more boldness and confidence to

thy mind, to adventure to believe the promises and come to Christ, because

thou thinkest thou canst not come when thou art so unclean and so

unworthy? And therefore thou apprehendest that thou canst so purge thyself

from sin and adorn thyself with graces, as may procure some liking, and

procure some favour at Christ’s hand, which is indeed very opposite to the

tenor of the proposal of free grace in the gospel in which there is

nothing upon the creature’s part required as a condition or qualification

to make them the more welcome in coming to Christ.

Let this word then abide with you: “Come unto me, and take my yoke upon

you, and learn of me,” which in substance is this, Come and cast your

burdens on me first, and then take my burden upon you. O it is a blessed

exchange! Cast your heavy burden upon my back, and take my light burden on

yours. For what is it to invite them that labour and are ladened to come,

but to come and repose themselves for rest upon him? And that is directly

to lay over that which burdens and ladeneth them upon him. There is an

unsupportable burden of sin, the guilt of sin, and there is an intolerable

weight of wrath. “Mine iniquities are gone over mine head (Ps. xxxviii.

4.) and as an heavy burden they are too heavy for me.” And when the wrath

of God is joined to this burden, the name of the Lord burning with anger,

how may you conceive a soul will be pressed under that burden, which is so

heavy, that it will press the mountains into valleys, make the sea flee

out of its place, and the earth tremble? Now here is the invitation. Is

there any penitent soul that feels the burden of the weight of sin and

wrath? Let them come and disburden their souls of care, fear, and anxiety,

in this blessed port of rest and refuge for poor sinners. Is there a yoke

of transgressions wreathed about thy neck, and bound by the hand of God,

(Lam. i. 14) a yoke that neither men nor angels are able to bear? Then, I

beseech you, come hither, and put over your yoke upon Jesus Christ. Tie it

about him for God hath laid upon him the iniquities of us all, and he bore

our sins. He did bear the yoke of divine displeasure, and it was bound

about his neck with God’s own hand, with his own consent. Now, here is the

actual liberty and the releasement of a soul from under the yoke, here is

its actual rest and quiet from under the pain of this burden, when a soul

is made to consent unto, and willingly to put over that burden upon

Christ. And this freedom and vacancy from the unsupportable yoke of guilt,

will certainly dispose the soul, and make it more capable of receiving the

easy and portable yoke of his commandments. I or you may easily perceive

how easy love maketh all things, even difficulties themselves. Let once a

soul be engaged that way to Christ, (and there is no possibility of

engaging it in affection without some taste and feeling, or believing

apprehension of his love and sufficiency for us,) and you will see that

the rough way will be made plain and the crooked way straight, heavy

things light, and hard things easy. For what command can be grievous to

that soul who apprehends that Christ hath taken the great weight of wrath

off it, and carried away the intolerable pain of its guiltiness, which

would have pressed and depressed it eternally, without any hope of

relaxation or ease? Hath he borne a yoke bound on by the majesty of God,

and fastened with the cords of his displeasure? And can it be so heavy to

a believing soul to take up that obedience which is fastened with the

cords of love? And besides, how much will faith facilitate this, and make

this yoke to be cheerfully and willingly submitted to, because it delivers

the soul from those unsufferable cares and fears, which did quite enervate

its strength, and take away its courage? For, I pray you, what is there in

a soul under the fear of wrath, that is not totally disabled by that heavy

pressure for any willing or cheerful obedience? The mystery(442) of the

spirit is spent that way, the courage of the soul is defeated, the heart

is weakened, and nothing is suitable to the yoke of Christian love and

obedience. But when once a soul apprehends Christ, this is a reposition of

all his cares and burdens, and comes to exoner(443) his soul in him, and

cast his burthen upon him. Then the soul is lightened as it were for this

journey, then he may walk in the ways of obedience, without the pressing

fear and pushing anguish of the dread of condemnation of the law. To

conclude this head, nothing will make you take up this yoke willingly, or

bear it constantly, except you be delivered from the other yoke that was

so heavy even to Christ, and that made him cry, “My soul is exceeding

heavy and troubled, and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour.”

Now, these who are here in the text invited to come unto Christ,—you see

them described to be labouring and heavy laden persons. “Come unto me, all

ye that labour,” &c. At least it seems to hold forth a previous

qualification and condition of believing, without which we may not venture

to come unto Christ. Indeed it is commonly so taken, and mistaken. Many

conceive that the clause is restrictive and exclusive, that is to say,

that this description of burdened and wearied sinners is a limitation of

the command of believing, and that it circumscribes the warrant of coming

to Christ, as if none might lawfully come unto him but these that are thus

burdened, and thus it is supposed to be a bar, set upon the door of

believing at which sinners must enter in to Christ, to hold out, and shut

out all those who are not thus qualified for access, which I truly

conceive is contrary to the whole strain and current of the dispensation

of the gospel. Therefore I take it to be rather declarative, or

ampliative, or both. I say, it is partly for declaration, not of the

warrant to come, but of the persons who ordinarily do come to Christ. It

declares not simply and universally who should come, but those who

actually do come unto Christ. Take it thus then. All persons who hear the

gospel are invited to come unto our Saviour without exception, the blind,

the lame, those on the highways, not only the thirsty and the hungry,

(Isa. lv. 1.) but those who have no thirst or hunger for righteousness,

but only for things that do not profit (ver. 2), not only the broken

hearted, that desire to come near to righteousness, but even the stout

hearted that are far from righteousness. Such are commanded to hearken,

and incline their ear, Isa. xlvi. 12, lv. 2, 3. Now, this command that

reaches all, gives an immediate actual warrant and right to all to come,

if they will. For what is required previous to give warrant to obedience,

but the command of obedience? And therefore the Jews were challenged,

because they would not come to Christ that they might have life. Now then

there is no bar of seclusion set upon the door of the gospel, to keep out

any soul from entering in. There is no qualification or condition

prescribed by the gospel, and without which if he come, he is actually

welcomed and received by Christ, whatsoever you suppose he wants. It is

true, men’s own security and unbelief will exclude them from Christ, but

that is no retraction on the gospel’s part. It is a bar set on a man’s own

heart, that shuts him up from coming to the patent entry of the gospel.

Therefore I take it thus, that though all ought to come to Christ, and

none that are indeed willing are debarred for the want of any supposed

condition, yet none will actually and really come, till they be in some

measure sensible of the weight of their sins, and the wrath of God, till

they are labouring under the feeling of their own misery and desperate

condition. And whatsoever be the measure of this, if it give so much

uneasiness to a man that he can be content with rest and ease in Christ,

he may, and certainly ought, to come unto Jesus, and cast all his burdens

upon him. I think then, that way that is in so frequent use among

Christians, to sit down, and essay to bring our hearts to some deep

humiliation, and so to prescribe and order it, as we will deliberately

delay, and suspend the thoughts of believing, till we have attained

something of this,—I say, this way crosses the very intention of Christ in

uttering these words, and such like. For certainly he meant to take away

impediments, and not to cast delays in our way. And therefore I said the

word was rather for ampliation, that is, rather to encourage these who

accounted themselves excluded, than to exclude any who desire to come.

“Come unto me, every one, but especially you that labour, ye should make

the greatest haste. Come unto me even though ye apprehend the wrath of God

to be intolerable, and have foolishly wearied yourselves in seeking rest

by other ways. Ye that are most apprehensive of your sins, and so are apt

to doubt of any acceptation,—you that think yourselves worse than any, and

so to have least warrant to come to me,—yet come, and I will by no means

cast you out, but give rest to your souls.” So that it is not intended to

exclude those who are most ready to think themselves excluded, because

they see so much sin in themselves.

Therefore, my beloved, without further disputing about it, let me exhort

you in the name of Jesus Christ, who here invites and commands you, that

you would at once put a period to this, and bring it to some conclusion.

Since you are diseased and disquieted in yourselves, and cannot find rest

in your own bosoms, I beseech you come here, where it is most likely to be

found, and it is most certain, if you come you shall find it. Do not

continue wrangling and contesting about the matter; for what is that but

to increase your labour, and vexation, and add to your heavy burden? It

will be so far from giving you any ease in the result of it, that it will

rather make your wounds more incurable, and your burdens more intolerable,

which is both opposite to the intention of the gospel and the nature of

believing. Here then is your rest, here is your refreshing rest. Here it

is in quiet yielding to his gracious offers, and silent submitting to the

gospel, not in bawling or contending with it, which is truly a contending

against ourselves. Isa. xxviii. 12. This is the rest, wherewith you may

cause the weary to rest. It is nowhere else, not in heaven or earth, for

there is no back that will take on this burden or can carry it away from

us. There is no disburdening of a sinner of guilt and wrath, in any other

port or haven, but in Christ, who is the city of refuge. Wheresoever you

think to exoner yourselves besides this, you will find no refreshing, but

a multiplication of burdens and cares. Your burden shall be rolled over

upon you again with double weight. Therefore, my beloved, if you will not

hear this, consider what follows, viz. you shall refuse this rest and

refreshing and restlessly seek another rest. You may go and be doing, but

you shall fall backward, and be broken and snared. Your burden shall fall

back upon you, and you shall fall and be broken under it. That which the

Lord said to Israel when they would flee to Egypt, is most true in this

case. “In returning, and in rest ye shall be saved, in quietness and

confidence shall be your strength;” but alas! they would not, that is a

sad close.

Sermon VII.

Matt. xi. 20.—“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me,” &c.

Self love is generally esteemed infamous and contemptible among men. It is

of a bad report every where, and indeed as it is taken commonly, there is

good reason for it, that it should be hissed out of all societies, if

reproaching and speaking evil of it would do it. But to speak the truth,

the name is not so fit to express the thing, for that which men call self

love, may rather be called self hatred. Nothing is more pernicious to a

man’s self, or pestilent to the societies of men than this, for if it may

be called love, certainly it is not self love, but the love of some baser

and lower thing than self, to our eternal prejudice. For what is

ourselves, but our souls? Matt. xvi. 26, Luke ix. 25. For our Lord there

shows that to lose our souls, and to lose ourselves, is one and the same

thing. But what is it to love our souls? Certainly it is not to be

enamoured with their deformed shape, as if it were perfect beauty? Neither

can it be interpreted, any true love to our souls, to seek satisfaction

and rest unto them, where it is not at all to be found, for this is to put

them in perpetual pain and disquiet. But here it is that true self-love,

and soul love centereth, in that which our Saviour propounds, namely, to

desire and seek the everlasting welfare of our souls, and that perpetual

rest unto them, after which there is no labour nor motion any more.

Therefore, to draw unto himself the souls of men the more sweetly, and the

more strongly too, he fasteneth about them a cord of their own interest,

and that the greatest, real rest; and by this he is likely to prevail with

men in a way suited to their reasonable natures. “Come unto me, all ye

that labour and are wearied, and I will give you rest.” Self interest is

ordinarily exploded, at least disowned and disclaimed in men’s discourses,

as a base, wretched, sordid thing, which, though all men act by it, yet

they are all ashamed to profess. But yet, if the interest be so high as

indeed to concern self, and that which is truly our self, then both

nations and persons count it the most justifiable ground of many of their

actions, self preservation. But yet there is a higher interest than that,

that relates to the eternal interest of our souls. And truly to own and

profess, and prosecute that interest of soul preservation, of eternal rest

to our souls, is neither ignoble, nor unbeseeming a Christian; neither is

it any way inconsistent with the pursuance of that more public and

catholic interest of God’s glory, in respect of which all interests, even

the most general and public, are particular and private. For this is the

goodness of our God, that he hath bound up his own honour and our

happiness in one bundle together; that he hath knit the rest of our

precious souls, and the glory of his own name inseparably together, not

only to condescend to our weakness, but to deal with us suitably to our

natures. He proposes our own interests chiefly, to draw us to himself, and

allows this happy self seeking in which a man loses himself, that he may

be found again in Christ. Seeing then it is thus, that elsewhere,

wheresoever you turn yourselves, within or without, there is no rest, but

endless labour, and fruitless toil, (you find this already by experience,

you who apprehend the weight of your sins, and the greatness of divine

wrath,) that there is an intolerable pressure upon your souls already, and

that this is nothing diminished, but rather augmented, by your vain

labours and inquiries after some ease and peace,—your endeavours to

satisfy your own consciences, and pacify God’s wrath some other way,

having filled you with more restless anxiety, and seeing there is a

certain assurance of true rest and tranquillity here, upon the easiest

terms imaginable, that is, “come to Jesus Christ, all ye who are

disquieted and restless, and he will give you rest,”—O should not this be

an invincible and irresistible attractive to your hearts, to draw them to

our Redeemer over all impediments? The rest is perfect happiness; and yet

the terms are easy. Only come and embrace it, and seek it nowhere else.

There is a kind of quietness and tranquillity in the seeking and attaining

this rest. All other rests are come to by much labour and business. Here

Christ would have you,—who have laboured in vain for rest, and lost your

toil and your pains,—to come at it, by ceasing from labour, as it were,

that which you could not attain by labour, to come by it, _cunctando_ (by

keeping quiet), which you could not gain _pugnando_ (by fighting). There

is a quiet and silent way of believing promises, and rolling yourselves

upon Christ offered in them, which is the nearest and most compendious way

to this blessed rest and quietness, which, if you think to attain by much

clamour and contention of debate or dispute, or by the painful labour and

vexation of your spirits, which you call exercise of mind,—you take the

way about, and put yourselves further off from it. Faith has a kind of

present vacancy and quietness in it, in the very acting of it. It is not a

tumultuous thing, but composes the soul to quietness and silence, to a

cessation from all other things but the looking upon Christ holden out in

the gospel, and this in due time will give greater rest and tranquillity.

Consider what the Lord speaks to the people that would take a journey upon

them to Egypt, (Isa. xxx. 15). “In returning and rest shall ye be saved,

in quietness and confidence shall be your strength.” Their peace was near

hand, but they would travel abroad to seek it, and they find trouble.

Their strength was to sit still and be quiet, and trust in the Lord. Nay,

but they would not sit still, but flee and wander abroad to their old

house of bondage, and therefore, says the Lord, you shall flee. Now, may

not this represent the folly and madness of souls that are under the fear

of wrath and sense of sin, and be as it were a type of it? Our rest is in

resting on a Saviour, our peace is in quiet confidence in him, it is not

far off, it is in our mouth. “The word is near” (says Paul), it is neither

in heaven above, nor in the depth below. We need not go abroad and search

for that happiness we want. It is nigh at hand in the gospel, but while we

refuse this, and give ourselves to restless agitation and perplexity about

it, sometimes we apprehend that we are eased in our travels and

endeavours, but it shall prove to us no better than Egypt a house of

bondage. Wheresoever we seek shelter out of Christ, we will find it a

broken reed, that not only will fail under us, but in the rent will split

our hand, and pierce us through with many sorrows. To conclude then this

head, coming to Christ with our burdens is a motion towards rest. For he

adds, “I will give you rest.” But moreover, there is a kind of rest in

this motion. It is an easier, plainer, and pleasanter motion, than these

troubled and laborious windings and wanderings of our hearts after vanity.

He persuades you to walk in this path of pleasantness and peace, and you

shall find a great rest at the end of it, “receiving (says Peter) the end

of your faith the eternal salvation of your souls.”

Now the next thing in the text is, having come to Jesus, and found rest

and happiness in him, we must take his yoke upon us. And this is the other

integral part of the gospel, of which I desire you to consider these few

particulars, that occur in the words,—The order in which it is to be taken

on,—The nature of this yoke,—And the most ready and expeditious way of

bearing it.

The method and order in which Christ’s yoke is to be taken upon us, is

first, To come unto our Saviour, and give over the yoke of our

transgressions to him, and then to take up the yoke of his commandments

from him, to believe in his promises, and rest our souls on them, and to

take up the yoke of his precepts, and proceed to motion, and walking in

that rest. Now this method hath a double advantage in it, for the real

receiving and carrying of Christ’s yoke. It gives vacancy and room for it,

and it gives strength and furniture(444) for it. It expels that which

would totally disable you to bear it, and brings in that comfortable

supply, which will strengthen and enable you to bear it. Consider what

posture a soul is put into, that lives under the terror of God, and is

filled with the apprehension of the guilt of sin and the greatness of

God’s wrath. I say, such a soul, till he have some rest from that grievous

labour, is fit for no other more pleasant labour, until he be something

disburthened of that which is like to press him down to hell. He is not

very capable of any new burden, until the yoke of his transgressions that

is wreathed about his neck be taken off. Do ye think he can find any

vacant room for the yoke of Christ’s obedience? When a soul is under the

dominion of fear and terror, under the power of grief and anguish, do ye

think he is fit for any thing, or can do any thing, but groan in that

prison of darkness, under these chains? Such a soul is in bondage, under

servitude, and can neither take up this yoke of liberty nor walk in it.

The strength and moisture of the spirit is drunk up by the poison of these

arrows, and there remains neither attention, affection, nor spirit for any

thing else. Therefore here is the incomparable advantage that redounds

from this way of coming first to Christ, and exonering our cares and fears

in his bosom, and in disburthening our sins upon him, who hath taken them

on, and carried them away, as that scape goat sent unto the wilderness on

which they laid the sins of the people. By this means, I say, you shall

have a vacancy for the yoke of Christ and liberty to all your faculties,

your understanding, will, and affections, (which are no better than slaves

and captives, _non sui juris_, while they are under these tyrannous

passions of fear and horror,) to attend the obedience of Christ and the

drawing of his yoke. This will relieve your souls out of prison, and then

you will be fit for employment. Besides this, there is furniture and help

brought into the soul, which enables it to this; and without which, though

it were not pressed under a burden of sin and wrath, yet it would neither

be able nor willing. There is that supply and strength that faith brings

from Christ, which arises from our mystical implantation in him, from

hence flows that communication of his grace to a believer. The law came by

Moses, but grace and truth by Jesus Christ, John i. 16, 17. Now this

efficacy and virtue that is in Christ the head, is transmitted unto the

members of his body by believing in him. Indeed the very apprehension of

such a Saviour may have some quickening virtue in it, but certainly the

great influence of life is annexed to it by his gracious promises,

“Because I live, ye shall live also,” John xiv. 19. “As the living Father

who sent me, lives in himself, and I have life by the Father, so he that

believes on me, shall live by me,” John vi. 57. “Abide in me, and I in

you, and ye shall bring forth much fruit.” He hath graciously appointed

the derivation of that life to us, to be conjoined with our right

apprehensions, and believing meditations of him, making, as it were, faith

the opening of his house, to let in his fulness to us. Now, besides this

more mysterious and supernatural furniture and supply, there is even

something that is naturally consequent to it, some enabling of the soul

for holy obedience, flows naturally from the love of Christ. And when ever

a believer apprehends what he has done for him, finds some rest and

relaxation in him, it cannot but beget some inward warmth of love to him

who so loved us. “Faith worketh by love,” says Paul. The way it goes to

action is by affection. It at once inflames that, and then there is

nothing more active and irresistible. It hath a kind of indefatigable

firmness in it, it hath an unwearied strength to move in the yoke all the

day long. In a word, nothing almost is impossible or too hard for it, for

it is of the nature of fire to break through all, and over all

impediments. Nothing is so easy but it becomes uneasy to a soul under

fear, and nothing so difficult but it becomes easy to a soul wherein

perfect love has cast out fear. For love makes a soul to move

supernaturally in divine things, as a natural or co-natural agent, freely,

willingly, and constantly. If they be not suitable to our natures as

corrupted, and so, grievous to love, then, as much as it possesses the

heart, it makes the heart co-natural to them, and supplies the place of

that natural instinct that carries other creatures to their own works and

ends, strongly and sweetly. 1 John v. 3, Psal. cxix. 165, Neh. vii. 10,

Col. iii. 15. Now you may judge whether or not you can possibly expect so

much advantage in any other method or way you take. This I leave to your

own consideration and experience.

And so I come to the next thing proposed, _secondly_, To consider what

this yoke is, and what is the nature of it. And may I not upon this head

justly enough distinguish a twofold yoke, of doctrine and discipline, that

is, the yoke of Christ’s commandments and laws, which both, in his love

and wisdom, he hath imposed upon us, for the regulation of our lives? And

this we are to take on by an obedience cheerful, willing, and constant.

But there is another yoke mentioned in scripture, namely, the yoke of his

chastisements and correcting, such a one as Ephraim (Jer. xxxi. 18) was

tried with, and was long or he could learn to bear it. It is good for a

man to bear this yoke in his youth, Lam. iii. 27. Now whether or not this

be meant here, I do not contend. The first is the chief intent, and it is

not needful to exclude this altogether, since it is not the smallest point

of Christianity to take up the one yoke by submission, as well as to take

up the other by obedience. How ever it be, obedience must be taken so

largely, as it cannot but comprehend the sweet compliance, and submission

of the will to God’s will in all cross-dispensations, which is no little

probation of the loyal and obedient temper of the heart. Both yokes must

be taken up, for so Christ speaks of his cross, “If any man will be my

disciple, he must take up his cross and follow me,” Matt. xvi. 24, 25. It

must be lifted up upon our shoulders, as it were, willingly, and

cheerfully, we actually concurring, as it were, to the bearing of it, and

the receiving it. But there is this difference between the one yoke and

the other, the one cannot be imposed upon us, neither can we bear it,

except we actively and with our own consent and delight take it up. Though

God may impose laws upon us, and give us righteous and faithful

commandments, which indeed lay a strait obligation and tie upon us under

pain of disloyalty, and rebellion, to walk in them, yet it never becomes

our yoke, and is never carried by us, until there be a subsequent consent

of the soul, and a full condescension of the heart, to embrace that yoke

with delight. Till we yoke ourselves unto his commandments, by loving and

willing obedience, we have not his yoke upon us. “Thy people shall be made

willing in the day of thy power.” It is not terrors and constraints, but

the bands of love will bind us to this yoke. It must be bound upon us by

the cords of love, not of fear. He is a true king, not a tyrant, he loves

_imperare volentibus_, “to rule every man with his own consent,” but a

tyrant “rules every man against his will,” _nolentibus imperat_. But as to

the other yoke of his discipline, his cross, whether it be for his sake,

or whether it be the general cross of our pilgrimage here, and the

vicissitudes and changes of this life, it is not in our arbitrament to

bear a cross, or have a cross or not. Have it we must, bear it we must,

whether we choose or refuse it. There is no man can be exempted from some

yoke of this kind. No man can promise himself immunity from some cross or

other, if not in poverty, yet in abundance, if not in contempt and

reproach yet in honour and greatness. There is nothing of that kind that

will not become weighty with itself alone, though nothing be superadded to

it. So then, since every man must have a yoke, he hath only the advantage

who takes it up, and bears it patiently. For if he thus sweetly comply and

yield to God’s will, he will not so much bear his cross, as his cross will

bear him. If thou take it up, it will take thee up and carry thee. If thou

submit and stoop willingly to God’s good pleasure, thou wilt make it a

more easy yoke, and light burden. _Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem

trahunt._(445) If thou be patient, his dispensation will gently and

sweetly lead thee to rest, but an impatient soul is dragged and drawn

after it against the hair, and yet he must follow it. There is this mighty

disadvantage in our impatient unsubjection to God’s will, that it makes

that a yoke which is no yoke, no cross a cross, an easy yoke hard, and a

light burden heavy, and yet notwithstanding we must bear it. A yoke, a

cross, we cannot escape, whithersoever we go, whithersoever we turn

ourselves, because we carry ourselves about with us, and our own crooked

perverse apprehensions of things which trouble us more than the things

themselves. Now consider the reasonableness of taking on the yoke of

Christ’s obedience. Should we not with David, offer ourselves willingly,

and present ourselves even before we are called? “Lo I come, to do thy

will, O God. I delight in thy law, it is in my inward part,” Psal. xl. 8.

There is no yoke so reasonable, if you consider it as imposed by Christ

our King and Lawgiver. Hath he not redeemed us from the house of bondage,

from the vilest and basest slavery, under the most cruel tyrants, Satan,

and death, and hell? Heb. ii. 15. Hath he not asserted and restored us

into the true liberty of men, and of the sons of God? The Son hath made us

free, (John viii. 32) when we were under the most grievous yoke of sin and

wrath, and the eternal curse of God. He hath put his own neck under it and

become a curse for us, that he might redeem us from the curse of the law,

and so he hath carried away these iron chariots, these yokes of brass and

iron, whereby Satan kept us in subjection, and now been established our

careful King, not only by the title of the justest and most beneficial

conquest that ever was made, but by God’s solemn appointment upon the hill

of Zion, Psal. ii. 6. And being exalted a Prince to give us salvation,

were it not most strange if his kingdom should want laws, which are the

life and soul of republics and monarchies? Ought not we to submit to them

gladly, and obey them cheerfully? Should not we absolutely resign

ourselves to his will, and esteem his commandments concerning all things

to be right? What command should be grievous to that soul, which is

delivered from the curse of all the commandments, and is assured never to

enter into condemnation? If there were no more to say, were it not

monstrous ingratitude to withdraw ourselves from subjection to him, or

yield obedience to any other strange lords, as our lusts are? Would it not

be an unexemplified unthankfulness to requite rebellion to him, for so

much unparalleled affection? Since we are not our own, but bought with a

price, we are not _sui juris_,(446) to dispose of ourselves. All reason

should say, that he who payed so dear for us should have the use of us.

And that is nothing but glory he seeks from us, that we offer and

consecrate soul and body to him, to come under his yoke. As for the gain,

it redounds all to ourselves, and that as the greater gain too.

Now a word to the last thing proposed, for I can only hint at it. The most

excellent and ready way of bearing this yoke, is to learn of him, to

present him as our pattern, and to yield ourselves to him, as his

disciples and scholars, not only to learn his doctrine, but to imitate his

example and practice, “to walk even as he walked.” And herein is great

moment(447) of persuasion, Christ puts nothing upon you, but what he did

take upon himself. There is so much more reason for you to take it up,

that it is his own personal yoke, which he himself carried, for he

delighted to do the Father’s will. It was his meat and drink to work in

that yoke. Now there are two things especially wherein he propones himself

the exemplar or pattern of our imitation, viz., his humility and meekness

of spirit. He was “meek and lowly in heart.” And these graces have the

greatest suitableness to capacitate and dispose every man for taking, and

keeping the yoke of Christ. Humility and lowliness bows his back to take

on the least of his commands. This makes him stoop low, and makes his

shoulders fit for it, and then meekness arms him against all difficulties

and impediments that may occur in it.

Sermon VIII.

Matt. xi. 29.—“Take my yoke upon you,” &c.

Christianity consists in a blessed exchange of yokes between Christ and a

pious soul. He takes our uneasy yoke, and gives his easy yoke. The soul

puts upon him that unsupportable yoke of transgressions, and takes from

him the portable yoke of his commandments. Our burden was heavy, too heavy

for angels, and much more for men. It would crush under it all the

strength of the creatures, for who could endure the wrath of the Almighty?

Or, “what could a man give in exchange for his soul”? Nay, that debt would

drown the whole creation, if they were surety for it. Notwithstanding,

Christ hath taken that burden upon him, being able to bear it, having

almighty shoulders, and everlasting arms for it. And yet you find how

heavy it was for him, when it pressed out that groan from him, “Now is my

soul sore amazed, very heavy, and exceeding sorrowful even unto death, and

what shall I say?” That which carried it away from us, hath buried it in

his grave, whither it pressed him down. It gets him very low under it, but

he hath got above it and is risen again, and whereas in vain there was a

stone put above him, and sealed, he hath rolled a stone above that yoke

and burden, that it cannot be able to weigh down any believing soul to

hell; for that weight which depressed his spotless soul, would have

depressed the sons of men to eternal darkness. Now for his burden, we

observe that it is of another nature, to speak properly, than other

burdens. It is not a heavy yoke or burden, but a state of liberty, an

ornament, a privilege. It is a chain of gold about a saint’s neck, to bind

Christ’s laws about them, every link of that chain is more precious than

rubies or diamonds. If there be any burden in it, it is the burden of

honour, the burden of privilege, and incomparable dignity, _honos_ not

_onus_ or _onus honoris_.(448) This is that which he puts upon us, or

rather that which a believer receives from him. Now I will not have you so

to take it, as if Christ did not propose the terms thus, “If you will be

willing to take on the yoke of my laws, I will take on the yoke of your

sins and curses.” Nay, it is not such an exchange as is thus mutually

dependent; for it hath pleased the Father without consulting us, and the

Son without our knowledge or consent, to conclude what to do with the

heavy and unsupportable burden of sinners. The Father “laid upon him the

iniquities of us all, and he” of his own accord “hath borne our griefs,

and carried our sorrows,” (Isa. lii. 4-6) and that burden did bruise him;

yea, “it pleased the Lord to bruise him,” and it pleased himself to be

bruised. O strange and unparalleled love, that could digest so hard

things, and make so grievous things pleasant! Now I say, he having thus

taken on our burden already, calls upon us afterward, and sends forth

proclamations, and affectionate invitations, “Come unto me, all ye poor

sinners, that are burdened with sin, and wearied with that burden; you who

have tired yourselves in these byways, and laboured elsewhere in vain, to

seek rest and peace: you have toiled all night and caught nothing, come

hither, cast your net upon this side of the ship, and you shall find what

you seek. I have undertaken your yoke and burden, why then do you laden

yourselves any more with the apprehension of it? The real and true burden

of wrath I have already carried away, why then do ye weary yourselves with

the imagination of it? Only come to me, and see what I have done, and you

shall find rest and peace.”

Now this being proponed absolutely unto sinners, and they being invited to

consent to that which Christ has done in their name, in the next place he

comes to impose his easy yoke upon us, not at all for any recompence of

what he hath done, but rather for some testimony of gratitude and

thankfulness on our part, and for the manifestation of grace and love on

his part. I do indeed conceive, that the imposition of the yoke of

Christ’s laws upon believers, is as much for the declaration of his own

love and goodness, as the testification of our thankfulness. If you

consider the liberty, the beauty, and the equity of this yoke, it will

rather be construed to proceed from the greatest love and favour, than to

tend any way to recompence his love. Herein is perfect liberty, Psal.

cxix. 32, 45. It is an enlargement of heart, from the base restraint and

abominable servitude of the vilest lusts, that tyrannize over us, and keep

our affections in bondage. O how narrow bounds is the liberty of the

spirits of men confined unto, that they serve their own lusts! Sin itself

and the lusts of the flesh, are a grievous yoke, which the putting on of

this yoke looses them from: and when the heart is thus enlarged with love

and delight in Christ, then the feet unfettered, may walk at liberty, and

run in the way of God’s commandments. “I will walk at liberty,” when I

have a respect to thy ways, Psal. cxix. 45. O how spacious and broad is

that way in reality, which to our first apprehension and the common

construction is strait and narrow! The truth is, there is no straitness,

no bondage, no scantiness, but in sin. That is the most abominable

vassalage, and the greatest thraldom of the immortal spirit; to be so

basely dragged by the flesh downward, to the vilest drudgery, and to be so

pinched and hampered(449) within the narrowness of created and perishing

things. To speak properly, there is no slavery but this of the spirit; for

it is not so contrary to the nature and state of the body, (which by its

first institution was made a servant,) to be under the dominion of men,

and further we cannot reach. Yea, it is possible for a man, while his body

is imprisoned, to be yet at greater freedom than those who imprisoned him.

As his mind is, so he is. But to be a servant of sin and unrighteousness,

must totally degrade the soul of man. It quite defaces that primitive

glory, and destroys that native liberty, in which he was created.

Therefore to have this sin taken off us, and the yoke of Christ’s

obedience put on us, to be made free from sin, and become the servants of

righteousness, that is the soul’s true liberty, which sets it forth at

large to expatiate in the exceeding broad commandments, and in the

infinite goodness of God, where there is infinite room for the soul.

When, then, I consider how beautiful this is for a reasonable spirit, to

be under the law of him that hath made it and redeemed it, I cannot but

think that Christ doth rather beautify and bless, than burden. The beauty

of the world consists in that sweet order, and harmonious subordination of

all things, to that law God hath imposed upon them, or engraves upon their

natures. If we should suppose but one of the parts of the world to swerve

from the primitive institution, what a miserable distraction would ensue?

How deformed would this beautiful and adorned fabric become? How much more

is it the beauty, grace, and comeliness of an intelligent being, to be

under the law of him that gave him a being, and to have that written in

his heart,—to be in a manner transformed by the shining glory of these

laws, to be a living law? What is it, I pray you, deforms these fallen

angels, and makes them devils? Why do we paint a good angel in a beautiful

and comely image, while the devils are commonly represented in the most

horrid, ugly, and monstrous shape and visage? Is it not this that makes

the difference, that the one is fallen from a blessed subordination to the

will of God, and the other keeps that station? But both are equal in

nature, and were alike in the beginning.

Add unto this, the equity of Christ’s yoke. There is nothing either so

reasonable in itself, or yet so suitable to ourselves. For what is it that

he puts upon us? Truly no new commandment; it is but the old command

renewed. It is no new law, though he hath conquered us, and hath the right

of absolute dominion over us; yet he hath not changed our fundamental

laws. He changes only the present tyrannical yoke of sin: but he restores

us, as it were, to our fundamental liberty we formerly enjoyed, and that

sin forced us from, when it conquered us. Christ’s yoke is not a new

imposition. It is but the ancient yoke that was bound upon man’s nature by

God the Creator. The Redeemer doth not invent or contrive one of his own;

he only looses off the yoke of iniquity, and binds on that sweet yoke of

obedience and love to God. He publishes the same laws, many of which are

already written in some obscure characters upon our own minds; and he

again writes them down all over in our hearts. There is nothing superadded

by Jesus Christ, but a chain of love to bind this yoke about our necks,

and a chain of grace and truth to keep his laws. And truly these make the

yoke easy, and take away the nature of a burden from it. O what mighty and

strong persuasions! O what constraining motives of love and grace doth the

gospel furnish, and the rarest cords to bind on Christ’s yoke upon a

reasonable soul,—cords of the most unparalleled love!

I shall only add unto all this, that as herein Christ hath expressed or

completes the expression of his love upon his part; so upon our part it

becomes us to take on his yoke, in testimony of our thankfulness. We owe

our very selves unto him. What can be more said? We owe ourselves once and

again; for we are twice his workmanship, first created by him, and then

renewed or created again unto good works. We are bought with a price, we

are not our own. Can there be any obligation imagined beyond this? Let us

therefore consecrate ourselves to his glory. Let all who believe the

gospel dedicate themselves to its obedience, not so much for salvation to

themselves, as their obligation to their Saviour. We are not called so

much to holiness and virtue that we may be saved, as, because we are

saved, to be blameless before God in love. O how gracious and honourable a

disposition of this kind would it be, to serve him more out of gratitude

for what he hath done, than merely for the reward that he will give!

Sermon IX.

Rom. xv. 13.—“Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace

in believing,” &c.

It is usual for the Lord in his word to turn his precepts unto promises,

which shows us, that the commandments of God do not so much import an

ability in us, or suppose strength to fulfil them, as declare that

obligation which lies upon us, and his purpose and intention to accomplish

in some, what he requires of all: and therefore we should accordingly

convert all his precepts unto prayers, seeing he hath made them promises.

This gives us ground, as it were, to retort his commands by way of

requests and supplications. The scripture here gives us a precedent, and

often elsewhere hath made his command a promise. It is then in the next

disposition, and nearest capacity, to be turned into the form of a

supplication. The joy promised in the preceding verse is elsewhere

commanded; and this immediately disposes the sinner to receive a new form

of prayer, from a believing heart, and that not only for himself, but for

others. You see how frequently such holy and hearty wishes are interjected

in his writings. And indeed such ejaculations of the soul’s desires,

whether kept within, or vented, will often interrupt the thoughts and

discourses of believers, but yet they break no sentence, they mar no

sense, no more than the interposition of a parenthesis. Such desires will

follow by a kind of natural resultance upon the lively apprehension of any

divine excellent thing, and secret complacency in it, and a stirring of

the heart to be possessed with it, will almost prevent deliberation. Such

an attractive power the excellency of any object hath in the heart, that

it draws it and engages it almost before any consultation be called about

it. Now there is something of this in these objects which we are naturally

delighted with. All at least that they want the apprehension supplies, and

this draws the heart forcibly after them, as it were, with out previous

advisement. Yet because of the limitation, emptiness, and scarcity of

these things, commonly the desires of men are contracted much within

themselves, and run towards a monopoly of those things. They are so poor

and narrow, that they cannot be enjoyed of more, without division, and the

dividing them cannot be without diminution of each man’s contentment, and

therefore men’s wishes ordinarily are stinted within their own

satisfaction and possession, and cannot without some restraint of reason

extend further to other men. But this is the vast difference between

spiritual things and bodily, eternal things and temporal, that there is no

man possessed of spiritual good, but he desires a community. It is as

natural upon the apprehension of them to enlarge the soul’s wishes to

other men, because there is such excellency, abundance, and solidity

discovered in them, as that all may be full, and none envy or prejudge

another. They are like the light that can communicate itself to all, and

that without diminution of its splendour. All may see it without prejudice

one to another. They are such an ocean that every one may fill their

vessel, and yet nothing less for them that come after. And therefore the

soul that wishes largely for itself, will not find that inward discontent

at the great abundance of another, which is the inseparable shadow of

earthly and temporal advantages. It is cross to men’s interest, that love

gain or preferment, or any such thing, that others grow rich, or are

advanced high in the world, for it intercepts what they desire. But it is

not at all the interest of a godly soul that others be worse than himself,

but rather the salvation and happiness of all men is that interest which

alone he espouses.

Now for this, my beloved, before we proceed further, you may find how the

pulse of your souls beats, and what your temper is, by considering what is

the ordinary unrestrained and habitual wishes of your hearts. Certainly as

men are inclined so they affect, and so they desire, and these

unpremeditated desires that are commonly stirred up in the hearts of men,

argue much the inward temper and inclination of the heart, and give the

best account of it. I think if men would reflect upon themselves, they

will find that earthly things are vain, while they put on another beauty,

and have a more magnificent representation in their minds, and so draw

after them the choicest of their affections, that they cannot spare much

real affection for spiritual things, which are apprehended more slightly

and darkly, and make the lighter and more superficial impression. But

certainly this will be the most natural beating of a holy heart and the

ordinary breathing of it, to desire much of this spiritual treasure for

themselves and others. You know what the thoughts and discourses of

merchants turn most upon. It is to have good winds, fair weather, good

markets, and all things that may facilitate gain, and husbandmen wish for

good seasons, timely showers, and dry harvests, that there may be plenty.

And generally what men’s hearts are set upon, that they go abroad

fervently and incessantly in longing desires after. Now truly this is the

Christian’s inward motion, and this is his salutation, wherewith he

congratulateth others. “The God of hope fill you with all peace and joy in

believing.” His gain lies in another airth.(450) His plenty is expected

from another field, and that is from above, from the God of hope, the

sweetest name (if all the rest be answerable) to be dealt withal, either

for gain or plenty, for it is hope that makes labour sweet, and if it

answer expectation then all is well. Therefore, in the sowing the seed of

prayers and supplications, with tears, for this harvest of joy, and in

trafficking for this treasure of peace, it is good that we have to do with

the God of hope, who cannot make us ashamed; for he that soweth must sow

in hope, 1 Cor. ix. 10. And therefore, though we sow in tears, yet let us

mingle hope therewith, and the harvest shall be joy, and the plenty,

affluence of peace in the Holy Ghost. Now if we believed this, would not

our sorrows be deep, and our labours sweet?

In the words you have read, there is the highest wish of a holy heart for

himself and them he loves best; that one desire, if he had no occasion

ever to present himself to God, but once, that he would certainly fall

upon, or some such like, to be filled after this manner with all peace and

joy in believing. These are the fruits of the Spirit he desires to be

filled with, and feed upon,—peace as an ordinary meal, and joy as an

extraordinary desert, or as a powerful cordial; and to supply what here is

wanting at present, the hope of what is to come, and that in abundance.

This is even an entertainment that a believer would desire for himself,

and these who have his best wishes, while he is in this world. He would

despise the delicacies of kings, and refuse their dainties, if he might

sit at this table that is spread on the mountain of God’s church, a full

feast which fills the soul with peace, joy, and hope, as much as now it is

capable of. Now these precious fruits you see in the words show the root

that brings them forth, and the branch that immediately bears them. The

root is the God of hope, and the power of the Holy Ghost. And a soul being

ingrafted as a living branch by faith into Christ, receives virtue to

bring forth such pleasant fruits, so that they grow immediately upon the

branch of believing, but the sap and virtue of both come from the Holy

Ghost, and the God of hope. Or to take it up in another like notion. This

is the river which gladdeneth the city of God with its streams, that

waters the garden of the Lord with its threefold stream. For you see it is

parted in three heads, and every one of them is derived from another. The

first in the order of nature is peace,—a sweet, calm, and refreshing

river, which sometimes overflows like the river Nilus, and then it runs in

a stream of joy, which is the high spring tide but ordinarily it sends

forth the comfortable stream of hope, and that in abundance. Now this

threefold river hath its original high, as high as the God of hope, and

the power of the Holy Ghost, but the channel of it is situated low, and it

is believing in Christ.

To begin then with the first of these. Truly there is nothing can be

spoken that sounds more sweetly in the ears of men than peace and joy.

They need nothing to commend them, for they have a sufficient testimonial,

and letters of recommendation written upon the affections of all men. For

what is it that all men labour and seek after but this? It is not any

outward earthly thing that is desired for itself, but rather for the peace

and contentment the mind expects in it. And therefore, this must be of

itself the proper object or good of the soul, which, if it can be had

immediately, without that long and endless compass about the creatures,

certainly a man cannot but think himself happy, and will have no missing

of other things, as if a man could live healthfully and joyfully without

meat, and without all appetite for it, no doubt but he would think himself

the happiest man in the world, and would think it no pain to him to want

the dainties of princes, but rather that he were delivered from the

wearisome necessity others laboured under. Just so is it here, there is

nothing would persuade a man to travel, and toil all his lifetime, about

the creatures, and not to suffer his soul to take rest, if he did believe

to find that immediately without travel, which he endures so much travel

for. And therefore the believing Christian is only a wise man, who is

instructed where the things themselves, true peace and joy, do lie, and so

seeks to be filled with the things themselves, for which only men seek

other things, and not as other men who catch at the shadows, that they may

at length find the substance itself, for this were far about, and labour

in vain.

Peace is so sweet and comprehensive a word, that the Jews made their usual

compellation, “Peace be unto you,”(451) importing all felicity, and the

affluence of all good. And indeed our Saviour found no fitter word to

express his matchless good-will to the well-being of his disciples nor

this (Luke xxiv. 36.), when he saluted them after his resurrection, “Peace

be unto you,” which is as much as if he had wished absolute satisfaction,

all contentment and happiness that themselves would desire. Now this peace

hath a relation to God, to ourselves, and our brethren. I will exclude

none of them from the present wish; for even brotherly concord and peace

suits well with the main subject of this chapter, which is the bearing of

our neighbours’ infirmities, and not pleasing ourselves, and such like

mutual duties of charity. But certainly the other two relations are most

intrinsic to happiness, because there is nothing nearer to us than the

blessed God; and next to him, there is nothing comes so near us as

ourselves. The foundation of all our misery, is that enmity between man

and God, which is as if heaven and earth should fall out into an

irreconcilable discord, and upon that should follow the suspension of the

light of the stars, and the withdrawing of the influences of heaven, and

the withholding the refreshment of the early and latter rain. If such

dissension fell between them, that the heavens should be as brass to the

earth, and would refuse the clouds when they cry for rain, or the herbs

and minerals when they crave the influences from above, what a desolate

and irksome dwelling-place would the earth be? What a dreary habitation

would we find it? Even so it is between God and men. All our being, all

our well-being, hangs upon the good aspect of his countenance. In his

favour is all our life and happiness; yet since the first rebellion, every

man is set contrary to God, and in his affections and actions denounces

war against heaven, whence hath flowed the sad and woful suspension of all

these blessings, and comfortable influences, which only beautify and bless

the soul of man. And now there is nothing to be seen but the terrible

countenance of an angry God, the revengeful sword of justice shaken in the

word; all above us as if the sun were turned into blackness, and the moon

into blood, and behold trouble and darkness, and dimness of anguish.

Now whenever a soul begins to apprehend his enmity and division in sad

earnest, there follows an intestine war in the conscience. The terrors of

God raise up a terrible party within a man’s self, and that is the bitter

remembrance of his sins. These are mustered and set in order in

battle-array against a man, and every one of these, as they are thought

upon, strike a dart into his heart. They shoot an arrow dipped in the

wrath of God, the poison whereof drinketh up his spirit, Job vi. 4. Though

the most part of souls have now a dead calm, and are asleep like Saul in

the field in the midst of his enemies, or as Jonas in the ship in the

midst of the tempest, yet when they awake out of that deep stupidity, God

will write bitter things against them, and make them to possess their

iniquities; and they shall find that he hath numbered their steps, and

watched over their sin, and sealed it as in a bag, to be kept in record.

Then he will renew his witnesses against them, and put their feet in the

stocks, and they shall then apprehend that changes and war are against

them, and that they are set as a mark against God, and so they will be a

burden to themselves, Job vii. 20. What a storm will it raise in the

soul! Now to lay this tempest, and calm this wind, is the business of the

gospel, because it reveals these glad tidings of peace and reconciliation

with God, which can only be the ground of a perfect calm in the

conscience. Herein is the atonement and propitiation set forth, that which

by its fragrant and sweet smell hath pacified heaven, and appeased

justice; and this only is able to pacify the troubled soul, and lay the

tumultuous waves of the conscience, Eph. ii. 13-20; Col. i. 19-22. This

gives the answer of a good conscience, which is like the sweet and gentle

breathing of a calm day after a tempest, 1 Pet. iii. 21. Now it is not so

much God reconcileable to sinners, as God in Christ reconciling sinners to

himself, 2 Cor. v. 19. Though some men be always suspicious of God, yet

they have more reason to suspect their own willingness. For what is all

the gospel but a declaration of his love, and laying down the enmity, or

rather, that he had never hostile affections to his elect, and so was all

this while providing a ransom for himself, and bringing about the way to

kill the enmity? And having done that by the blood of Christ, he will

follow us with entreaties of reconcilement, and requests to lay down our

hostile affections, and the weapons of our warfare; and for him we have no

more ado but to believe his love, while we were yet enemies. This, I say,

carried into the heart with power, gives that sweet calm and pleasant rest

to the soul, after all its tossings. This commands the winds and waves of

the conscience, and they obey it. It is true that many find no trouble

within, and some, upon terrible apprehensions of sin and wrath, find ease

for the time in some other thing, as a diversion to some other object, and

turning aside with Cain to build cities, to worldly pleasures, or

employments, or company, that the noise of them may put the clamours of

their conscience to silence. Some parleys and cessations men have, some

treaties of this kind for peace with God; but alas! the most part make no

entire and full peace. They are always upon making the bargain, and cannot

close it, because of their engagements to sin, and their own corrupt

lusts. And therefore many do nothing else than what men do in war, to seek

some advantage, or to gain time by their delays: but O the latter end will

be sad, when he shall arm you against yourselves! Were it not better, now

while it is to-day, not to harden your hearts? Now, joy is the effect of

peace, and it is the very overflowing of it in the soul, upon the lively

apprehension of the love of God, and the inestimable benefit of the

forgiveness of sins. It is peace in a large measure, pressed down, and

running over, breaking without the ordinary channel, and dilating itself

to the affecting and refreshing of all that is in man: “My heart and my

flesh shall rejoice.” This is the very exuberance and high sailing-tide of

the sea of peace that is in a believer’s heart. It swells sometimes upon

the full aspect of God’s countenance beyond the ordinary bounds, and

cannot be kept within in gloriation and boasting in God. When a soul is so

illustrated with the Holy Ghost, as to make a kind of presence and

possession of what is hoped for, that makes the soul to enlarge itself in

joy. This makes the inward jubilation, the heart as it were to leap for

joy. Now, truly this is not the ordinary entertainment of a Christian. It

is neither so universal nor constant as peace. These fruits so matured and

ripe, like the grapes of Canaan, are not set down always upon the table of

every Christian, nor yet at all to some. It is enough that he keep the

soul in that healthful temper, that it is neither quite cast down or

discouraged through difficulties and infirmities. It is sufficient if God

speak peace to the soul, though it be not acquainted with these raptures

of Christianity. This hath so much sense in it, that it is not meet to be

made ordinary food, lest we should mistake our pilgrimage for heaven, and

fall upon the building of tabernacles in this mount. For certainly the

soul would conclude it good to be here, and could not so earnestly long

for the city and country of heaven, if they had any more but some tastes

of that joy to sharpen their desires after the full measure of it. It is a

fixed and unchangeable statute of heaven, that we should here live by

faith, and not by sense. And indeed, the following of God fully, in the

ways of obedience, upon the dim apprehensions of faith, is more

praiseworthy, and hath more of the true nature of obedience in it, than

when present sweetness hath such a predominant influence. Besides, our

vessel here is weak and crazy, and most unfit for such strong liquor as

the joys of the Holy Ghost. Some liquors have such a strong spirit in them

that they will burst an ordinary bottle; and as our Saviour says, “No man

puts new wine in old bottles, for they will burst,” Matt. ix. 17. Truly

the joy of heaven is too strong for our old ruinous and earthly vessels to

bear, till the body “put on incorruption,” and be fashioned like unto

Christ’s own glorious body; for it cannot be capable of all the fulness of

this joy. And yet there is a kind of all fulness of peace and joy in this

life, “fill you with all joy and peace.” Indeed the fulness of this life

is emptiness to the next. But yet there is a fulness in regard of the

abundance of the world. Their joys and pleasures, their peace and

contentation in the things of this life, are but like “the crackling of

thorns under a pot,” that makes a great noise, but vanishes quickly in a

filthy security, Eccles. vii. 6. It is such, that like the loudest

laughter of fools, there is sorrow at the heart, and in the end of it is

heaviness, Prov. xiv. 13. It is but at the best a superfice, an external

garb drawn over the countenance, no cordial nor solid thing. It is not

heart joy, but a picture and shadow of the gladness of the heart in the

outward countenance; and whatever it be, sorrow, grief, and heaviness

follow at its heels, by a fatal inevitable necessity. So that there is

this difference between the joys and pleasures of the world, and dreams in

the night; for the present there is more solidity, but the end is hugely

different. When men awake out of a dream, they are not troubled with it,

that their imaginary pleasure was not true. But the undivided companion of

all earthly joys and contentment is grief and vexation. I wonder if any

man would love that pleasure or contentment if he were assured to have an

equal measure of torment after it, suppose the pain of the stone, or such

like. But when this misery is eternal, O what madness and folly is it to

plunge into it! “I said of laughter, It is madness, and of mirth, What

doth it?” But the Christian’s peace and joy is of another nature. Yet as

no man knoweth the “hidden manna,” the “new name,” and the “white stone,”

but he that hath it, (Rev. ii. 17) so no man can apprehend what these are,

till he taste them and find them. What apprehension, think ye, can a beast

form of his own nature? Or what can a man conceive of the angelical

nature? Truly this is without our sphere and that without theirs. Now

certainly the wisest and most learned men cannot form any lively notion of

the life of a Christian, till he find it. It is without his sphere and

comprehension, therefore it is called “the peace of God which passes all

understanding,” (Phil. iv. 7), a “joy unspeakable and full of glory,” 1

Pet. i. 8. Suppose men had never seen any other light but the stars of the

firmament, or the light of a candle, they could not conceive any thing

more glorious than the firmament in a clear night. Yet we that have seen

the sun and moon, know that these lights are but darkness unto them. Or,

to use that comparison that the Lord made once effectual to convert a

nobleman, if a man did see some men and women dancing afar off, and heard

not their music, he would judge them mad, or at least foolish, but coming

near hand, and hearing their instruments, and perceiving their order, he

changes his mind. Even so, whatever is spoken of the joy of the Spirit, or

the peace of conscience, and whatsoever is seen by the world of abstaining

from the pleasures of the world, the natural mind cannot but judge it

foolishness, or melancholy, because they do not hear that pleasant and

sweet harmony, and concert of the word and Spirit, in the souls of God’s

children. Else if they heard the sweet Psalmist of Israel piping, they

could not but find an inward stirring and impulse m themselves to dance

too.

Now the third stream is hope, “that ye may abound in hope,” because this

is not the time nor place of possession. Our peace and joy here is often

interrupted, and very frequently weakened. It is not so full a table as

the Christian’s desire requires. Our present enjoyments are not able to

mitigate the very pain of a Christian’s appetite, or to supply his

emptiness. Therefore there must be an accession of hope to complete the

feast and to pacify the eagerness of the soul’s desire, till the fulness

of joy and peace come; and if he have spare diet otherwise, yet he hath

allowance of abundance of hope, to take as much of that as he can hold,

and that is both refreshing and strengthening. Truly there is nothing men

have, or enjoy, that can please, without the addition of hope unto it. All

men’s eyes are forward to futurity, and often men prejudice themselves of

their present enjoyments, by the gaping expectation of, and looking after

things to come. But the Christian’s hope being a very sure anchor cast

within the vail, upon the sure ground of heaven, it keeps the soul firm

and steadfast, though he be not unmoved, yet from tossing or floating;

though it may fluctuate a little, yet his hope regulates and restrains it.

And it being an helmet, it is a strong preservative against the power and

force of temptations. It is that which guards the main part of a

Christian, and keeps resolutions after God untouched and unmaimed.

Now, my beloved, would you know the fountain and original of these sweet

and pleasant streams? It is the God of hope, and the power of the Holy

Ghost. There is no doubt of power in God, to make us happy and give us

peace. But power seems most opposite to peace, especially with enemies and

it seems whatsoever he can do, yet that his justice will restrain his

power from helping us. But there is no doubt but the God of power, as well

as hope, both can and will do it. He hath this style from his promises and

gracious workings, because he hath given us ground of hope in himself. He

is the chief object of hope, and the chief cause of hope in us too.

Therefore we would look up to this fountain, for here all is to be found.

But I haste to speak a word of the third thing proposed, viz.: The channel

that these streams run into. It is believing, not doing. Indeed this

stream once ran in this channel. But since paradise was defaced, and the

rivers that watered it turned another way, this hath done so too. It is

true, that righteousness and holy walking is a notable mean to preserve

this pure, and unmixed, and constant. For indeed the peace of our God will

never lodge well with sin, the enemy of God, nor can that joy, which is so

pure a fountain, run in abundance in an impure heart. It will not mix with

carnal pleasures and toys. But yet the only ground of true peace and joy

is found out by believing in another. Whatsoever ye do else to find them,

dispute and debate never so long about them, toil all night and all day in

your examinations of yourselves, yet you shall not catch this peace,—this

solid peace, and this surpassing joy, but by quite overlooking yourselves

and fixing your hearts upon another object, that is, Jesus Christ. “Peace

and joy in believing,” and what is that believing? Mistake it not. It is

not particular application at first. I delight rather to take it in

another notion, for the cordial absent and consent of the soul to the

promises of the gospel. I say but one word more, viz.: meditation and deep

consideration of these truths is certainly believing, and believing brings

peace, and peace brings joy.

Sermon X.

Matth. xi. 16.—“But whereunto shall I liken this generation?”

When our Lord Jesus, who had the tongue of the learned, and spoke as never

man spake, did now and then find a difficulty to express the matter herein

contained. “What shall we do?” The matter indeed is of great importance, a

soul matter, and therefore of great moment, a mystery, and therefore not

easily expressed. No doubt he knows how to paint out this to the life,

that we might rather behold it with our eyes, than hear it with our ears,

yet he uses this manner of expression, to stamp our hearts with a deep

apprehension of the weight of the matter, and the depth of it. It concerns

us all, as much as we can, to consider and attend unto it.

Two things are contained here. The entertainment Christ gets in the world,

of the most part, and, the entertainment he gets from a few children, of

whom he is justified. I say, it concerns you greatly to observe this,—for

Christ observed it very narrowly,—what success both his forerunner and

himself had. Christ begins here to expostulate with the multitudes, and

with the scribes and Pharisees about it. But ere all be done he will

complain to the Father. He now complains unto you, that he gets not ready

acceptance amongst you, if it be possible that you may repent of the great

injury done to the Son of God, no not so much to Christ, as your own

souls, for “all who hate me love death, and he that sinneth against me

wrongeth his own soul,” Prov. viii. 36. Wo unto your souls, for you have

not hurt Christ, by so much despising him. Ye have not prejudiced the

gospel, but ye have rewarded evil to yourselves, Isa. iii. 9. I say,

Christ now complains of you to yourselves, if so be you will bethink

yourselves in earnest, and return to yourselves, but if ye will not, he

will at length complain to the Father. When he renders up the kingdom, and

gives an account of his administration unto God, he will report what

entertainment ye gave his word. For he will say, “I have laboured in vain,

and spent my strength for nought with such a man. All threatenings, all

entreaties would not prevail with him to forsake his drunkenness, his

swearing, his covetousness, his oppressions,” &c. You know Christ’s last

long prayer, John xvii. He gives an account in it what acceptance he had

among men, when he is finishing his ministry. These are the men he now

speaks unto in the text, “Whereunto shall I liken this generation?” Thus

he speaks of them to his Father. “O righteous Father, the world hath not

known thee, but I have known thee.” Well then, this is not so light a

matter as ye apprehend. Ye come to hear daily, but know ye not that ye

shall give an account of your hearing? Know ye not that there is one who

observes and marks all the impressions which the word makes on your

consciences? He knows all the blows of the sword of the word, that returns

making no impression on your consciences. Christ says to the multitudes

here, “And what went ye out for to see?” I pray you what went ye out to

see, seeing ye have not believed his report? Why went ye out unto the

wilderness? Know ye who spake, or in whose authority? May we not speak in

these terms unto you, when we consider the little fruit of the gospel?

What do you come to see, and what do ye come to hear every Sabbath, and

other solemn days? I pray you ask at your own hearts, what your purpose

is. Wherefore do ye come together so often? Men are rational in their

business. They do nothing but for some purpose. They labour, and plough,

and sow, in order to reap. They buy and sell to get gain. They have many

projects and designs they still seek to accomplish. And shall we be only

in matters of salvation and damnation so irrational? Shall we in the

greatest thing of the greatest moment, because of eternal concernment be

as perishing brutish beasts, that know not what we aim at? Christ will in

the end ask you, what went ye out of your own houses so often to hear?

What went you out to see? I pray you what will ye answer? If ye say, we

went to hear the word of the Lord, then he shall answer you, and why did

not ye obey it? Then why did ye not hear it as my word, and regard it

more? If ye shall say, we went to hear a man speak some good words unto us

for an hour or two, then is Christ also engaged against you, because he

sent him, and ye despise him, for he says, “He that despises me, despises

him that sent me,” so ye shall be catched both the ways. If ye think this

to be God’s word, I wonder why ye do not receive it, with the stamp of his

authority in your hearts. Why do ye not bow your hearts to it, for it

shall endure for ever, and judge you? Why do you sit(452) so many fair

offers, so many sad warnings? Are not the drunkards warned every day by

this word, that the curse of the Lord shall come upon them? Is not every

one of you, according to your several stations and circumstances, warned

to forsake your wicked ways, and your evil thoughts, to flee from the

wrath to come, before the decree of the Lord pass forth, and before his

fury burn as an oven? And if ye think these to be the true words of the

eternal God, and the sayings of the Amen, the faithful and true witness,

and the truth itself, if ye believe it as ye profess to do, why do ye not

get out of the way of that wrath, which continues upon these sinners

daily? Shall ye escape the judgment of God? Shall not his word overtake

you though ministers that speak unto you will not live for ever? But these

words they speak will surely take hold of you, as they did your fathers,

so that ye shall say, “Like as the Lord of hosts hath said he will do unto

us, so hath he done,” Zech. i. 6. If ye do not think this is God’s word, I

beseech you, why do you come hither so oft? What do ye come to hear? Why

take ye so much needless pains? Your coming here seems to speak that ye

think it to be God’s word and yet your conversation declares more plainly

that ye believe it not. Yet Christ takes notice of you and O that ye,

beloved, would search yourselves that so ye might hear the word as in the

sight of the all seeing God, and in his sight, who will judge you

according to it; a sermon thus heard, would be more profitable than all

that ever ye heard. Now to what purpose speak we of these things unto you,

and why do we choose this discourse, when ye expect to hear public things?

I will tell you the reason of it. Because I conceive this is the great sin

of the times, and the most reprehensive and fountain sin, the root of all

our profanity and malignity, even this which Christ points out in this

similitude. The great blessing and privilege of Scotland is the gospel. Ye

all must grant this. Now, then, the great misery and sin of this nation

is, the abuse and contempt of the glorious gospel, and if once we could

make you sensible of this, ye would mourn for all other particular sins.

The words are very comprehensive. Ye shall find in them the different

manifestations of God in his word, reduced to two heads. The Lord either

mourns to us to make us mourn, or joys to us to make us dance. A

similitude and likeness is the end of all the manifestations of himself,

that we be one with him. Therefore when he would move our affections in

us, he puts on the like, and clothes himself, in his word and

dispensation, with such a habit as is suitable. So ye have both law and

gospel. He laments in the one, he pipes in the other. Both sad and glad

dispensations of his providence may be subordinate to these; the one, I

mean his judgments, representing that to our eyes which his law did to our

ears, making that visible of his justice, which we heard; the other, I

mean mercies, represents that to our eyes, which the gospel did to our

ears, making his good will, his forbearance, and long suffering, and

compassion visible, that men might say, “As we have heard so have we seen

in the city of our God.” Now these should stir up suitable affections in

men. This is their intendment and purpose, to stir up joy and grief,

sorrow for sin, on the one hand, and joy in the Lord’s salvation on the

other hand; hatred of sin by the one, and the love of Christ by the other.

But what is the entertainment(453) these get in the world? Ye shall see it

different. In some it meets with different affections, or it makes them,

and moves them, and these do justify wisdom. The accomplishment and

performance of God’s purposes, in the salvation of souls, justifies his

word. They justify Christ by believing in him; Christ justifies us, by

making us to believe in him, and applying his own righteousness to us. He

that believes justifies the word, and Christ in the word, because he sets

to his seal that God is true; and Christ likewise justifies the believer,

by applying his righteousness unto him. The believer justifies wisdom, by

acknowledging it as the Father’s wisdom; Christ justifies the believer by

making him and pronouncing him righteous, and a son of God. But in others,

and in these a great many, it generally meets with hard hearts, stupid and

insensible, incapable of these impressions. You know music is very apt to

work upon men’s spirits, and doth stir up several passions in them, as joy

or grief. Now Christ and his ministers are the musicians that do apply

their songs to catch men’s ears and hearts, if so be they may stop their

course and not perish. These are blessed Sirens(454) that do so, and pipe,

day and night, in season and out of season, some sad and woful ditties of

men’s sin and God’s wrath, of the day of judgment, of eternal punishment,

that if it be possible, men may fore-apprehend these ills, before they

fall into them without recovery. These are the boys in the market places

that strive to sadden your hearts, and make you lament in time, before the

day of howling, and weeping, and gnashing of teeth. These also have as

many joyful and glad ditties, sweetening the sad. It may be, diverse men

have diverse parts of this harmony. John had the woful and sad part,

Christ took the joyful and glad part; so the one answered the other, and

both made a complete harmony. It may be, one man in one spring mixes these

two, and makes good music alone. The one part is intended to move men to

grief, and mourn once, that they may not mourn for ever; the other to

comfort in the meantime these that mourn, to mix their mourning with their

hope of that blessed delivery in Jesus Christ. Now what is the

entertainment these get from the most part? They can neither move men to

one affection nor another; they will neither mourn nor dance. As the

children complain of some rude and rustic spirits, that are uncapable of

music, and cannot discern one spring(455) from another, so does Christ

complain of a generation of men, they can neither repent nor believe, they

care for none of these things. His threatenings and denunciations of wrath

are a small thing to them, and his consolations appear also to be

inconsiderable. Then souls are otherwise taken up, that they have no sense

to discern the transcendent excellency of eternal things. We would then

press upon your consciences these three things. First, That the word of

God comprehending the law and gospel, contains both the saddest ditties

and the most joyful and sweet songs in the world. Next, We would discover

unto you the great sin, and extreme stupidity of this generation, of which

ye are a part, that ye may know the controversy God hath with the land.

And then at length, we would labour to persuade you to the right use of

this gospel, and justifying of wisdom, if ye would be his children.