A CALL

TO

THE UNCONVERTED 



BY REV. RICHARD BAXTER. 



WITH 

AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, 

BY REV. THOMAS CHALMERS, D. D. 



PUBLISHED BY THE 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW-YORK. 



D. Fanshaw, Printer* 




'^ DR* CHALMERS' 



INTRX)PUCT0RY ESgAY, 



(JL 



The "Call to thrCfflS^7ted" by Richard Bax- 
ter, is characterized by all that solemn earnestness, 
and urgency of appeal, for which the writings of this 
much-admired author are so pecuharly distinguished. 
He seems to look upon mankind solely with the eyes 
of the Spirit, and exclusively to recognize them in 
their spiritual relations, and in tli^ great and essential 
elements of their immortal being. Their future des- 
tiny is the all-important concern which fills and en- 
grosses his mind, and he regards nothing of any mag- 
nitude but what has a distinct bearing on their spiri- 
tual and eternal condition. His business, therefore, is 
always Avith the conscience, to which he makes the 
most forcible appeals, and which he plies with all 
those arguments which are fitted to awaken tlie sinner 
to a deep sense of the necessity and importance of im- 
mediate repentance. He endeavors to move him by 
the most touching of all representations, the tender- 
ness of a be-seeching God vvaiung to be gracious, and 
not Avilling that any should perish ; and wliile he em- 
ploys every form of entreaty, which tenderness and 
compassion can suggest, to allure the sinner to "turn 
and live," he does not shrink from forcing on his con 
victions those considerations which are fitted to alarm 
liis fears, the terrors of the Lord, and the wrath, not 
merely of an oflended Lawgiver, but of a God of love, 
whose threatening^ lie disregards, whose grace he dcs- 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

pises, and whose mercy he rejects. And aware of tho 
deceitfulncss of sin in hardeninor the heart, and in be- 
traying the sinner into a neglect of his spiritual inte- 
rests, he divests him of every refuge, and strips liim of 
every plea for postponing liis preparation for eternity. 
He forcibly exposes the delusion of convenient seasons, 
and the awful infatuation and hazard of delay , and 
knowing the magnitude of the stake at issue, he urges 
the sinner to immediate repentance, as if the fearful 
and almost absolute alternative were " Now or Never." 
And to secure the commencement of such an important 
work against all the dangers to which procrastination 
might expose it, he endeavors to arrest the sinner in 
liis career of guilt and unconcern, and resolutely to fix 
his determination on " turning to Grod this day with- 
out delay." 

There are two very prevalent delusions on this sub- 
ject, which we should like to expose; the one regards 
the nature, and the other the season of repentance ; 
both of which are ])regnant with mischief to the mmds 
of men. With regard to the first, much mischief has 
arisen from mistakes respecting the meaning of the 
term i^epentance. The word repentance occurs with 
two different meanings in the New Testament ; and 
it is to be regretted, that two different w^ords could not 
liave been devised to express these. This is charge- 
able upon the poverty of our language ; for it is to be 
observed, that in the original Greek the distinction in 
the meanings is pointed out by a distinction in the 
words. The employment of one term to denote two 
different things has the effect of confounding and mis- 
leading the understanding; and it is much to bo 
wished, that every ambiguity of this kind were clear- 
ed aAvay from that most interesting point in the pro 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

cess of a human soul, at which it turns from sin imto 
righteousness, and from tlie power of Satan unto God 

When in common language, a man says, " I repent 
of such an action," he is understood to say, " I am sorry 
for having done it." The feeling is familiar to all of 
us. How often does the man of dissipation prove this 
sense of the word repentance, when he awakes in the 
morning, and, oppressed by the languor of his ex- 
hausted faculties, looks back with remorse on the fol- 
lies and profligacies of the night that is past? How 
often does the man ol' unguarded conversation prove it. 
when he thinks of the friends whose feelings he has 
wounded by some hasty utterance which he cannot 
recall? How often is it proved by the man of business, 
when lie reflects on the rash engagement which ties 
him down to a losing speculation? All these people 
would be perfectly imderstood when they say, " We 
repent of these domgs." The word repentance so 
applied is about equivalent to the word regret. There 
are several passages in ttie NeAV Testament where 
this is the undoubted sense of the word repentance. 
In Matt. 27: 3. the wretched Judas repented himself 
of his treachery ; and surely, wlien we think of the 
awful denunciation uttered by our Savior against the 
man who should betray him, that it were better foi- 
him if he had not been born, we shall never confound 
the repentance which Judas experienced with that 
repentance which is unto salvation. 

Now here lies the danger to practical Christianity. 
In the above-cited passage, to repent is just to regret, 
or to be sorry for ; and this we conceive to be by fax 
the most prevailing sense of the term in the English 
language. But there are other places where the same 
term is employed to denote that which is urged upon 
]* 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

lis as a duly — that which is preached for tlie remis- 
sion of sins — that which is so indispensable to sinners, 
as to call forth the declaration from our Savior, that 
iinle^ we have it, we shall all likewise perish. Now, 
though repentance, in all these cases, is expressed by 
the same term in our translation as the repentance of 
mere regret, it is expressed by a different term in the 
original record of our faith. This surely might lead 
us to suspect a difierence of meaning, and should cau- 
tion us against taking up with that, as sufficient for 
the business of our salvation, which is short of saving' 
and scriptural repentance. There may be an alterna- 
tion of \^•ilful sin, and of deep-felt sorrow, up to the 
very end of our histor}' — there may be a presumptu- 
ous sin committed every day, and a sorrow ^e;^"ula^ly 
succeeding it. Sorrow may imbitter every act of sin — 
sorrow may darken every interval of sinful indul- 
gence — and sorrow may give an unutterable anguish 
to the pains and the prospects of a deathbed. Couple 
all this %vith the circumstance that sorrow passes, in 
the common currency of our language, for repentance , 
and that repentance is made, by our Bible, to lie at 
the turning point from a state of condemnation to a 
state of acceptance with God ; and it is difficult not to 
conceive that much danger may have arisen from this, 
leading to indistinct views of the nature of repentance, 
and to slender and superficial conceptions of the migh- 
ty change which is impUed in it. 

We are far from saving that the eye of Christians 
is not open to this danger — and that the vigilant care 
of Cliristian authors has not been employed in avert- 
ing it. Where will we get a better definition of re- 
pentance unto life than in our Shorter Catechism? by 
which the sinner is represented not merely as grieving, 



INTRODUCliON. 7 

but, alon^ with his grief and hatred of sin, as turning 
from it unto God with full purpose of, end endeavor 
after new obedience. But the miscliief is, that the 
word repent has a common meaning, different from 
the theological : that wherever it is used, this common 
meaning is apt to intrude itself, and exert a kind of 
habitual imposition upon the understanding — that the 
influence of the single word carries it over the influ- 
ence of the lengthened explanation — and thus it is 
that, for a steady progress in the obedience of the 
gospel, many persevere, to the end of their days, in a 
wretched course of sinning and of sorrowing, without 
fruit and Avithout amendment. 

To save the practically mischievous efiect arising 
from the appUcation of one term to two different things, 
one distinct and appropriate tenn has been suggested 
for the saving repentance of the New Testament. 
The term repentance itself has been restricted to the 
repentance of mere sorrow, and is made equivalent to 
regret ; and for the other, able translators have 
adopted the word reformation. The one is expressive 
of sorrow for our past conduct ; the other is expressive 
of our renouncing it. It denotes an actual turning 
from the habits of life that we are sorry for. Give us, 
say they, a change from bad deeds to good deeds, 
from bad habits to good habits, from a life of wicked- 
ness to a life of conformity to the requirements of 
heaven, and you give us reformation. 

Now there is oflen nothing more unprofitable than 
a dispute about words ; but if a word has got into com- 
mon use, a common and generally understood mean- 
ing is attached to it ; and if this meaning does not 
just come up to the thing which we want to express 
by it, the application of that word to that tiling has 



S INTRODUCTION. 

the same misleading effects lis in the case ah-eadj' 
alluded to. Now, we have much the same kind of 
exception to allege against the term reformation^ that 
we have alleged against the term Tepentance. The 
term repentance is inadequate — and why? because, 
m the common use of it, it is equivalent to regret, and 
regret is short of the saving change that is spolcen of 
in the New Testament. On the very same principle, 
we count the term reformation to be inadequate. We 
think that, in common language, a man would receive 
the appellation of a reformed man upon the mere 
change of his outward habits, without any reference 
.0 the change of mind and of principle wliich gave 
rise to it. Let the drankard give up his excesses — 
let the backbiter give up his evil speakings — let the 
extortioner give up his unfair charges — and we \vould 
apply to one and all of them, upon the mere change 
of their external doings, the character of reformed 
men. Now, it is evident that the drunkard may give 
up his drunkenness, because checked by a serious im- 
pression of the injury he has been doing to his health 
and his circumstances. The backbiter may give up 
his evil speaking, on being made to perceive that tlie 
hateful practice has brought upon him the contempt 
and alienation of his neighbors. The extortioner may 
give up his unfair charges, upon taking it into calcu- 
lation that his business is likely to suffer by the deser- 
tion of his customers. Now, it is evident, that though 
in each of these cases there has been what the world 
would call reformation, there has not been saHptural 
repentance. The deificiency of the former term con- 
sists in its having been employed to denote a mere 
change in the deeds or in the habits of the o\itwaro 
man ; and if employed as equivalent to repentance, ii 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

may delude us into the idea that tlie change by which 
we are made meet for a happy eternity is a far more 
slender and superficial thing than it really is. It is 
of little importance to be told that the translator means 
it only in the sense of a reformed conduct, proceeding 
from the influence of a new and a right principle, 
within. The common meaning of the word will, as 
in the former instance, be ever and anon intruding 
itself, and get the better of all the formal cautions, and 
all the qualifying clauses of our Bible commentators. 
But, will not the original word itself throw some 
light upon this important question? The repentance 
which is enjoined as a duty — the repentance which 
is unto salvation — the repentance which sinners un- 
dergo w^hen they pass to a state of acceptance with 
God from a state of enmity against him — these are 
all one and the same thing, and are expressed by one 
and the same word in the original language of the 
New Testament. It is different from the word which 
expresses the repentance of sorrow; and if translated 
according to the parts of which it is composed, it sig- 
nifies neither more nor less than a change of mind. 
This of itself is safficient to prove the inadequacy ot 
tlie term reformation — a term which is often applied 
to a man upon the mere change of his conduct, with- 
out ever adverting to the state of his mind, or to the 
land of change in motive and in principle which it 
has midergone. It is true, that there can be no change 
in the conduct without some change in the inwara 
principle. A reformed drunkard, before careless about 
healtlT or fortune, may be so far changed as to become 
impressed with these considerations ; but this change 
Is evidently short of that which the Bible calls repent- 
ance toward God. It is a change that may, and ha3 



10 INTRODrCTION. 

taken place in many a niiad, when there was no 
efiectual sense of the God who is above us, and ol'thc 
eternity which is before us. It is a cliange, brought 
about by the prospect and the calculation of worldly 
advantages ; and, in the enjoyment of these advan- 
tages it hath its sole reward. But it is not done untc 
God, and God will not accept of it as done unto him. 
Reformation may signify nothing more than the mere 
surface-dressing of those decencies, and proprieties, 
and accomplishments, and civil and prudential duties, 
which, however fitted to secure a man's acceptance 
in society, may, one and all of them, consist with a 
heart alienated from God, and having every principle 
and affection of the inner man away fi om him. TiiiC, 
it is such a cliange as tiie man will reap benefit Irom, 
as his friends will rejoice in, as the workl will call 
reformation ; but it is not such a change as will m.ake 
him meet for heaven; nor is it, in its import, what our 
Savior speaks of, when he says, " I tell you nay, ex- 
cept ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." 

There is no single word in ilie English language 
which occurs to us as fully eejual to the faithful ren- 
dering of the term in the original. Renewedness oj 
'mind, however awkward a phrase this may be, ia 
perhaps the most nearly expressive of it. Certain it 
is, that it harmonizes with those other passages of the 
Bible where the process is described by which saving 
repentance is brought about. We read of being 
transformed by the renewing of our minds, of the re- 
newing of the Holy Ghost, of being renewed in the 
spirit of our minds. Scriptural repentance, thei^eforej 
is that deep and radiccd change wherehj a soid turns 
from the idols of sin and. of self unto God, and de- 
votes every movement of the inner and the outer mam 



INTRODUCTION. 11 

to the captivity of his obedience. This is the change 
which, whether it be expressed by one word or not in 
the Enghsh language, we would have you well to 
understand ; and reformation or change in the out- 
ward conduct, instead of being saving and scriptural 
repentance, is what, in the language of John the 
Baptist, we would call a fruit meet for it. But if 
mischief is likely to arise, from the want of an ade- 
quate Avord in our language, to that repentance which 
is unto salvation, there is one effectual preservative 
against it — a firm and consistent exhibition of the 
whole counsel and revelation of God. A man who is 
well read in his New Testament, and reads it with 
docility, will dismiss all his meagre conceptions of 
repentance when he comes to the following state- 
ments: — "Except a man be born again he cannot 
see the kingdom of God." " Except ye be converted, 
and become as little children, ye shall not enter into 
the kingdom of heaven." " If any man have not the 
Spirit of Christ he is none of his." " The carnal 
mind is enmity against God ; and if ye live after the 
flesh ye shall die ; but if ye, through the Spirit, do 
mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live." " Be not 
then conformed to this world, but be ye transformed 
by the renewing of your minds." Such are the terms 
employed to describe the process by which the soul 
of man is renewed unto repentance ; and, with your 
hearts familiarized to the mighty import of these 
terms, you will carry with you an effectual guarantee 
against those false and flimsy impressions, which are 
so current in the world, about the preparation of a 
sinner for eternity. ***** 

We should like, moreover, to reduce every man to 
the feeling of repentance now or the alternative ol 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

repentance never. We should like to ila^li it upon 
your convictions, that, by putting the call away troni 
you now, you put your eternity away t'roni you. We 
should like tc expose the whole amount of that accurs 
ed infatuation which lies in delay. We should like to 
arouse every eoul out of its lethargies, and give noquar 
ter to tlie plea, of a little more sleep, and a little mere 
slumber. We should like you to feel as if the whole ot 
your future destiny hinged on the very first movement 
to wliich you turned yourselves. The work of repent- 
ance must have a beginning; and we should like you 
to kjiow that, if not begun to-day, tiie chance will be 
less of its being begun to-morrow. And if the greater 
chance has failed, what hope can we build upon the 
emaller? — and a chance to that is ahvays getting 
smaller. Each day, as it revolves over the sinner'a 
head, finds him a harder, and a more obstinate, ana 
a more helplessly enslaved sinner, than before. It 
was this consideration which gave Richard Baxter 
such earnestness and such urgency in his " Call," He 
knew that the barrier in the Avay of the sinner's return 
was strengthened by every act of resistance to the call 
which urges it. That the refusal of this moment 
hardened the man against the next attack of a Gos- 
pel argument that is brought to bear upon him. That 
jf he attempted you now, and he failed, when he came 
back upon you he would find himself working on a 
more obstinate and uncomplying subject than ever. 
And therefore it is that he ever feels as if the present 
were his only opportunity. That lie is noic upon his 
vantage ground, and he gives every energy of his 
soul to tlie great point of making the most of it. He 
will put up with none of your evasions. He will 
consent to none of your postponements. He will pay 



LNTKODUCTION. 13 

respect to none of your more convenient seasons. He 
tells you, that the matter with which he is charged 
has all the urgency of a matter in hand. He speaks 
to you with as much earnestness as if he Imew that 
you were going to step into eternity in half an hour. 
He delivers his message with as much solemnity as if 
he knew that this was your last meeting on earth, 
and that you were never to see each other till you 
stood together at the judgment-seat. He knew that 
some mighty change must take place in you ere you 
be fit for entering into the presence of God ; and that 
the time in which, on every plea of duty and of inte- 
rest, you should bestir yourselves to secure tliis, is the 
present time. This is the distmct point he assigns to 
himself; and the whole drift of his argument is to 
urge an instantaneous choice of the better part, by 
teUing you how you multiply ervcry day the obstacles 
to your future repentance, if you begin not the work 
of repentance now. 

Before bringing our Essay to a close we shall make 
some observations on the mistakes concerning repent- 
ance, which we have endeavored to expose, and ad- 
duce some arguments for urging on the consciences of 
our readers the necessity and importance of imme- 
diate repentance. 

1. The work of repentance is a work which must 
be done ere we die ; for, unless we repent, we shall all 
likewise perish. Now, the easier this work is in our 
conception, we shall think it the less necessary to enter 
upon it immediately. We shall look upon it as a 
work that may be done at any time, and therefore put 
it off a little longer, and a little longer. We shall, 
nerhaps, look forward to that retirement from the 
world and its temptations which we figure old age to 
8 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

bring along with it, and falling in witli the too com- 
mon idea, that the evening of life is the appropriate 
season of preparation for another world, we shall 
think that the author is bearing too closely and too 
urgently upon us, when, in the language of the Bible, 
he speaks of " to-day ^^^ while \i is called to-day, and 
will let us off ^vith no other repentance than repent- 
ance ^himc," seeing that now only is the accepted 
time, and now only the day of salvation, which he 
has a warrant to proclaim to us. Tliis dilatory way 
of it is very much favored by the mistaken and very 
defective view of repentance which we have attempt- 
ed to expose. We have some how oi- other got into 
the delusion that repentance is nothing bat sorrow j 
and were we called to fix upon the scene where this 
sorrow is likely to be felt in the degree that it is deep- 
est and most overwhelming, we would point to the 
chamber of the dying man. It is awful to think that, 
generally speaking, this repentance of mere sorrow is 
the only repentance of a death-bed. Yes ! we shall 
meet with sensibiHty deep enough and painful enough 
there — with regret in all its bitterness — with terror 
mustering up its images of despair, and dwelling 
upon them in all the gloom of an affrighted imagina- 
tion ; and this is mistaken, not merely for the drapery 
of repentance, but for tlie very substance of it. We 
look forward, and we count upon this — that the sins 
of a life are to be expunged by the sighing and sor- 
rowing of the last days of it. We should give up this 
wretchedly superficial notion of repentance, and cease, 
from this moment, to be led astray by it. The mind 
may sorrow over its corruptions at the very time that 
.H is under the power of them. A man may weep 
most bitterly over the perversities of his moral consti- 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

tution; but to change that constitution, under the 
workings of the Holy Spirit, is a ditTerent affair. 
Now, this is the mighty Avork of repentance. He who 
has undergone it is no longer the servant of sin. He 
dies unto sin, he lives unto God. A sense of the au- 
thority of God is ever present with him, to wield the 
ascendancy of a great master-principle over all liis 
movements — to call forth every purpcBe, and to carry 
it forward, through all the opposition of sin and of 
Satan, into accomplishment. This is the grand revo- 
lution in the state of the mind which repentance 
brings along with it. To grieve because this work is 
not done, is a very different thing from the doing of it. 
A deathbed is the very best scene for acting the first , 
but it is the very worst for acting the second. The re- 
pentance of Judas has often been acted there. We 
ought to tliink of the work in all its magnitude, and 
not to put it off" to that awful period when the soul is 
crowded with other things, and has to maintain its 
weary struggle with the pains, and the distresses, 
and the shiverings, and the breathless agonies of a 
deathbed. 

2. There are two views that may be taken of the 
way in which repentance is brought about, and which- 
ever of them is adopted, delay carries along with it 
the saddest infatuation. It may be looked upon as 
a step taken by man as a voluntary agent^ and we 
would ask you, upon your experience of the powers 
and the performances of humanity, if a deathbed is 
the time for taking such a step 1 Is this a time for a 
voluntary being exercising a vigorous control over his 
own movements'? When racked with pain, and borne 
down by the pressure of a sore and overwhelming 
calamity ? Surely the greater the work of repentance 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

is, the more ease, the more time, the more freedom 
from suffering, is necessary for carrying it on ; and, 
therefore, addressing you as voluntary beings, as 
beings who will and wlio do, we call upon you to seek 
God early that you may find him — to haste, and make 
no delay in keeping his commandments. 

The other view is, that repentance is not a self^ 
originating work in man, but the work of the Holy 
Spirit in him as the subject of its influences. This 
view is not opposite to the former. It is true that man 
wills and does at every step in the business of his sal- 
vation ; and it is as true that God works in him so to 
will and to do. Take this last view of it then. Look 
on repentance as the work of Grod's Spirit in the soul 
of man, and we are furnished Avith a more impressive 
argument than ever, and set on higher vantage for 
urging you to stir yourselves, and set about it im- 
mediately. What is it that you propose ? To keep 
by your present habits, and your present indulgences, 
and build yourselves up all the while in the confidence 
that the Spirit will interpose with his mighty power 
of conversion upon you, at the very point of time that 
you have fixed upon as convenient and agreeable? 
And how do you conciliate the Spirit's answer to your 
call then? Why, by doing all you can to grieve, and 
to quench, and to provoke him to abandon you now. 
Do you feel a motion tOAvard repentance at this mo- 
ment? If you keep it alive, and act upon it, good and 
well. But if you smother and suppress this motion, 
you resist the Spirit — you stifle his movements within 
you ; it is what the impenitent do day after day, and 
year after year — and is this the way for securing the 
influences of the Spirit at the time that you would 
like them best ? When you are done with the workl, 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

and are looking forward to eternity because you can- 
not help it? God says, "My Spirit shall not always 
strive with man." A good and a free Spirit he un- 
doubtedly is, and, as a proof of it, he is now saying, 
" Let whosoever will, come and take of the water of 
life freely." He says so now, but we do not promise 
that he will say so with effect upon your deathbeds, 
if you refuse liim now. You look forward then for a 
powerful work of conversion being done upon you, and 
yet you employ yourselves all your life long in raising 
and multiplying obstacles against it. You count upon 
a miracle of grace before you die, and the way you 
take to make yourselves sure of it, is to grieve and 
offend him while you live, who alone can perform the 
miracle. O what cruel deceits will sin land us in ! 
and how artfully it pleads for a "little more sleep, and 
a little more slumber; a little more folding of the 
hands to sleep." We should hold out no longer, nor 
make such an abuse of the forbearance of God : we 
shall treasure up wrath against the day of wrath if 
we do so. The genuine effect of his g<2odness is to 
lead us to repentance ; let not its effect upon us be to 
harden and encourage ourselves in the ways of sin. 
We should cry now for the clean heart and the right 
spirit ; and such is the exceeding freeness of the Spirit 
of God, that we shall be listened to. If we put off the 
cry till then, the same God may laugh at our calam- 
ity, and mock when our fear cometh. 

3. Our next argument for immediate repentance is, 
that we camiot bring forward, at any future period of 
your history, any considerations of a more prevailing 
or more powerfully moving influence than those we 
may bring forward at this moment. We can tell you 
now of the terrors of the Lord, we can tell you now 



18 INTROnnCTION. 

of the solemn mandates which have issued from his 
throne — and the authority of which is upon one and 
all of you. We can tell you now, that though, in 
this dead and darkened world, sin appears but a 
very trivial affair — for every body sins, and it is 
shielded from execration by the universal countenance 
of an entire species lying in wickedness — yet it holds 
true of God, what is so emphatically said of him, that 
he cannot be mocked, nor will he endure it that you 
should riot m the impunity of your wilful resistance 
to him and to his warnings. We can tell you now, 
that he is a God of vengeance ; and though, for a 
season, he is keeping back all the thunder of it from a 
Avorld that he would reclaim unto himself, yet, if you 
put all his expostulations away from you, and will not 
be reclaimed, these thunders will be let loose upon 
you, and they will fall on your guilty heads, armed 
with tenfold energy, because you have not only defied 
his threats, but turned your back on his offers of re- 
conciliation. These are the arguments by which Ave 
would try to open our way to your consciences, and to 
awaken up your fears, and to put the inspiring activity 
of hope into your bosoms, by laying before you those 
invitations which are addressed to tlie sinner, through 
the peace-speaking blood of Jesus, and, in the name 
of a beseeching God, to win your acceptance of ihem. 
At no future period can we address arguments more 
powerful and more affecting tlian these. If these ar- 
guments do not prevail upon you, we know of none 
others by which a victory over the stubborn and un- 
complymg will can be accomplished, or by which we 
can ever hope to beat in that sullen front of resistance 
wherewith you now so impregnably withstand us. 
We leel that, if any stout-hearted sinner shall rise 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

from the perusal of this " Call to the Unconverted " 
with an unawakened conscience, and give himself up 
to wilful disobedience — we feel as if, in reference to 
him, we had made our last discharge, and it fell 
powerless as water spilt on the ground, that cannot be 
gathered up again. Therefore it is that we speak to 
you now as if this was our last hold of you. We feel 
as if on your present purpose hung all the prepara- 
tions of your future life, and all the rewards or all the 
horrors of your coming eternity. "We will not let you 
off with any other repentance than repentance now ; 
and if this be refused now, we cannot, with our eyes 
open to the consideration we have now urged, that 
the instrument we can make to bear upon you here- 
after is not more powerful than we are wielding now, 
coupled with another consideration which we shall 
insist upon, that the subject on which the instrument 
worketh, even the heart of man, gathers, by every 
act of resistance, a more uncomplying obstinacy than 
before ; we cannot, with these two thoughts in our 
mind, look forward to your future history, without 
seeing spread over the whole path of it the iron of a 
harder impenitenc}^ — the sullen gloom of a deeper 
and more determined alienation. 

4. Another argument, therefore, for immediate re- 
pentance is, that the mine' which resists a present call 
or a present reproof, undergoes a progressive harden- 
ing' toward all tliose considerations which arm the 
call of repentance with all its energy. It is not enough 
to say, that the instrument by which repentance is 
brought about, is not more powerful to-morrow than 
it is to-day ; it lends a most tremendous weight to the 
argument, to say further, that the subject on which 
this instrament is putting forth its efficiency, will op- 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

pose a firmer resistence to-morrow than it does to-day. 
It is this which gives a significancy so powerful to the 
call of " To-day while it is to-day, harden not your 
hearts ;" and to the admonition of " Knowest thou not, 
O man, that the goodness of God leadeth thee to re- 
pentance; but after, thy hardness and impenitent 
heart treasurest up wrath against the day of wrath 
and revelation of the righteous judgments of God?" 
It is not said, either in the one or in the otlier of these 
passages, that, by the present refusal, you cut your- 
self off from a future invitation. The invitation may 
be sounded in your hearing to the last half hour of 
your earthly existence, engraved in all those charac- 
ters of free and gratuitous kindness which mark the 
beneficent religion of the New Testament. But the 
present refusal hardens you against the power and 
tenderness of the future invitation. This is the fact 
in human nature to which these passages seem to 
point, and it is the fact through which the argument 
for immediate repentance receives such powerful aid 
from the wisdom of experience. It is this which form? 
the most impressive proof of the necessity of plying 
the young with all the weight and all the tenderness 
of earnest admonition, that the now susceptible mind 
might not turn into a substance harder and more un- 
complying than the rock which is broken in pieces 
by the powerful application of the hammer of the 
word of Got'. 

The metal of the human soul, so to speak, is like 
some material substances. If the force you lay upon 
it do not break it, or dissolve it, it will beat it into 
hardness. If the moral argument by which it is plied, 
now, do not so soften the mind as to carry and to over- 
nowcr its purposes, then, on another day. the argu- 



INTRODUCTION. 21 

ment may be put forth in terms as impreeeive — but it 
falls on a harder mind, and, therefore, with a more 
slender efficiency. If the threat, that ye who persist 
in sin shall have to dwell with the devouring fire, and 
to he down amid everla^ing burnings, do not alarm 
you out of your iniquities from this very moment, then 
the same threat may be again cast out, and the same 
appalling circumstances of terror be thrown around it, 
but It is all discharged on a soul hardened by its inure- 
ment to the thunder of denunciations already uttered, 
and the urgency of menacing threatenings already 
poured forth without fruit and without efficacy. If 
the voice of a beseeching God do not win upon you 
now, and charm you out of your rebellion against him, 
by the persuasive energy of kindness, then let that 
voice be lifted in your hearing on some future day, 
and though armed with all the power of tenderness 
it ever had, how shall it find its entrance into a heart 
sheathed by the operation of habit, that universal law, 
in more impenetrable obstinacy ? If, with tlie earliest 
dawn of your understanding, you have been offered 
the hire of the morning laborer and have refused it, 
then the parable does not say that you are the person 
who at the third, or sixth, or ninth, or eleventh hour, 
will get the offer repeated to you. It is true, that the 
offer is unto all and upon all who are within reach of 
the hearing of it. But there is all the difference in 
the world between the impression of a new offer, eind 
of an offer that has already been often heard and as 
often rejected — an offer which comes upon you witli 
ail the familiarity of a well-lmown sound that you 
have already learned how to dispose of, and how to 
shut your every feeling against the power of its gra- 
cious invitations — an offer which, if discarded from 
your heai-ts at the present moment, may come back 



22 INTRODUCTION. 

upon yon, but which will have to maintain a more 
Uiiequal contest than before, with an impenitency ever 
strengthening, ami ever gathering new hardness from 
each saccessive act of resistance. And thus it is that 
tlie point for which we are contending is not to carry 
you at some future period of your livee, but to carry 
you at this moment. It is to work in you the instan- 
taneous purpose of a firm and a vigorously sustained 
repentance ; it is to put into you all the freshness of 
an immediate resolution, and to stir you up to all the 
reacUness of an immediate accomplishment — it is to 
give direction to the very first footstep you are now 
to take, and lead you to take it as the commencement 
of that holy career in which all old things are done 
away, and all things become new — it is to press it 
upon you, that the state of the alternative, at this mo- 
ment, is "now or never" — it is to prove how fearful 
the odds are against you, if now you suffer the call of 
repentance to light upon your conscionces, and still 
keep by your determined posture of careless, and 
thoughtless, and thankless unconcern about God. You 
have resisted to-day, and by that resistance you have 
acquired a firmer metal of resistance against the 
power of every future warning that may be brought 
to bear upon you. You have stood your ground 
against the urgency of the most earnest admonitions, 
and against the dreadfalness of the most terrifying 
menaces. On that gromid you have fixed yourself 
more immovably than before ; and tliough on some 
future day the same spiritual thunder be made to play 
iround you, it will not shake you out of the obstinacy 
oJ' your determined rebellion. 

It is the miiversal law of habit, that the feelings are 
always getting more faintly and feebly impressed by 
every repetition of the cause which excited tliem, and 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

that the mind is always getting stronger in its active 
resistance to the impulse of these leelings, by every 
new deed of resistance which it performs ; and thus it 
is, that if you refuse us now, we have no other pros- 
pect before us than that your course is every day 
getting more desperate and more irrecoverable, your 
souls are getting more hardened, the Spirit is getting 
more provoked to abandon those who have so long 
persisted in their opposition to his movements. God, 
who says that his Spirit shall not always strive witli 
man, is getting more offended. The tyranny of habit 
is getting every day a firmer ascendancy over you , 
Satan is getting you more helplessly involved among 
his wiles and his entanglements ; the world, with all 
the inveteracy of those desires which are opposite to 
the will of the Father, is more and more lording it 
over your every affection. And what, we would ask, 
what is the scene in which you are now purposing to 
contest it, with all tliis mighty force of opposition you 
are now so busy in raising up against you ? What is 
the field of combat to which you are now looking 
forward, as the place where you are to accomplish a 
victory over all those formidable enemies whom you 
are at present arming with such a weight of hostility, 
as, we say, Avitliin a single hairbreadth of certainty, 
you will find to be irresistible? O the bigness of such 
a misleading infatuation ! The proposed scene in 
which this battle for eternity i?? to be fought, and this 
victory for the crown of glory is to be won, is a death- 
bed. It is w^hen the last messenger stands by the 
couch of the dying man, and shakes at him the ter- 
rors of his grisly countenance, that the poor child of 
infatuation tliinks he is to struggle and prevail against 
all his enemies; against tlie unrelenting tyranny of 
habit — against the obstinacy of his own heart, which 



24 INTUODUCriON. 

}ie is now doing bo much to harden — against tlio 
Spirit of God who perhaps long ere now has pro- 
nounced the doom upon liim, " He will take his o^vn 
way, and walk in his own counsel ; I shall cease from 
striving, and let him alone" — against Satan, to whom 
every day of his life he has given some fresh advan- 
tage over him, and who will not be willing to lose 
ihe victim on whom he has practised so many wiles, 
and plied with success so many delusions. And such 
are the enemies whom you, who wretchedly calculate 
on the repentance of the eleventh hour, are every day 
mustering up in greater force and formidableness 
against you ; and how can we think of letting you 
go with any other repentance than the repentance of 
the precious moment that is now passing over you, 
when we look forward to the horrors of that impressive 
scene on which you propose to win the prize of im- 
mortality, and to contest it singlehanded and alone, 
with all the weight of opposition which you have 
accumulated against yourselves — a deathbed — a lan- 
guid, breathless, tossing, and agitated deathbed ; that 
scene of feebleness, when the poor man cannot help 
himself to a single mouthful — when he must have 
attendants to sit around hrm. and watch his every 
wish, and interpret his every signal, and turn him to 
every posture where he may find a moment's ease, 
and wipe away the cold sweat that is running over 
him — and ply him with cordials for thirst, and sick- 
ness, and insufferable languor. And this is the time, 
wiien occupied with such feelings, and beset with 
such agonies as these, you propose to crowd within 
the compass of a few wretched days the work of 
winding up the concerns of a neglected eternity! 

5. But it may be said, " If repentance be what you 
cepresent it, a thing of such mighty import, and sucli 



LNTRODUCTION. 23 

impracticable peribrmance, as a chancre of mind, in 
what rational way can it be made the subject of a 
precept or injmiction? you would not call upon the 
Ethiopian to change his skin — you would not call 
upon the leopard to change his spots ; and yet you call 
upon us to change our minds. You say, " Repent ;" 
and that too in the face of the undeniable doctrine, that 
man is without strength for the achievement of so 
mighty an enterprise. Can you tell us any plain and 
practicable thing that you would have us to perform, 
and that we may perform, to help on this business?" 
This is the very question with which the hearers of 
John the Baptist came back upon him, after he had 
told them in general terms to repent, and to bring forth 
fruils meet for repentance. He may not have resolved 
the difficulty, but he pointed the expectation of his 
countrymen to a greater than he for the solution of it. 
Now that Teacher has already come, and we live 
under the full and the finished splendor of his revela- 
tion. O that the greatness and difficulty of the work 
of repentance had the effect of shutting you up into 
the faith of Christ ! Repentance is not a paltry, super- 
ficial reformation. It reaches deep into the inner man, 
but not too deep for the searching influences of that 
Spirit which is at his giving, and which worketh 
mightily in the hearts of believers. You should go 
then under a sense of your difficulty to Him. Seek 
te be rooted in the Savior, that you may be nourished 
out of his fulness, and strengthened by his might. 
The simple cry for a clean heart, and a right spirit, 
which is raised from the mouth of a believer, brings 
down an answer from on high which explains all the 
difficulty and overcomes it. And if what we have 
said of the extent and magnitude Oi" repentance, should 
have the effect to give a deeper feeling than before of 



So INTRODUCTION. 

the wants under which you labor ; and shall dispose 
you to seek after a closer and more habitual union 
with Him who alone can supply them, then will our 
call to repent have indeed fulfilled upon you the ap- 
pointed end of a preparation for the Savior. But re- 
collect now is your time, and now is your opportunity, 
for entering on the road of preparation that leads to 
heaven. We charge you to enter this road at this 
moment) as you value your deliverance from hell, and 
your possession of that blissful place where you shall 
be for ever with the Lord — we charge you not to 
parry and to delay this matter, no not for a single 
hour — we call on you by all that is great in eternity — 
by all that is terrifying in ^ts horrors — by all that is 
alluring in its rewards — by all that is binding in the 
authority of God — by all that is condemning in the 
severity of his violated law, and by all that can aggra- 
vate this condemnation in the insulting contempt of 
liis rejected gospel ; — we call on you by one and al- 
of these considerations, not to hesitate, but to flee — 
not to purpose a return for to-morrow, but to make 
an actual return this very day — to put a decisive end 
to every plan of wickedness on which you may have 
entered — to cease your hands from all that is forbid- 
den — to turn them to all that is required — to betake 
yourselves to the appointed Mediator, and receive 
through him, by the prayer of faith, such constant 
supplies of the washing of regeneration and renewing 
of the Holy Ghost, that, from this moment, you may 
be carried forward from one degree of grace unto 
another, and from a life devoted to God here, to the 
elevation of a triumphant, and the joys of a blissfd 
eternity hereafter. T. C 

gt. Andrc\'''s, October, 1825. 



CONTEl^TS. 

The Text opened, ... 31 

Doctrine I. — It is the unchangeable law of God, that 
wicked men must turn or die — Proved, . 34 

God will not be so unmerciful as to damn us — 
Answered, . . . . .37 

The Use, 40 

Who are wicked men, and what conversion is ; and 
how we may know whether we are wicked or con- 
verted, ..... 43 
Applied, ..... 50 

DocT. II, — It is the promise of God that the wicked 
shall live, if they will but turn ; unfeignedly and 
thoroughly turn — Proved, ... 61 

DocT. III. — God taketh pleasure in men's conversion 
and salvation, but not in their death or damnation 
He had rather they would turn and live, than go on 
and die — Expounded — Proved, . . 68 

OocT. IV. — The Lord hath confirmed it to us by his 
oath. That he has no pleasure in the death of the 
wicked, but rather that he turn and live; that he 
may leave man no pretence to question the truth 
of it, 75 

Use.. — Who is it, then, that takes pleasure in men's 
sin and death ? — Not God, nor ministers, nor any 
good men, ..... 76 

DocT. V. — So earnest is God for the conversion of 
sinners, that he doubleth his commands and exhor 
tations Avith vehemency, "Turn ye. Turn ye," 
Applied, .... 82 

Some motives to obey God's call, and turn, 85 



28 CONTENTS. 

DocT. VI. — The Lord condesceiidolli to reason the 
case witii unconverted sinners, and ask them, Why 
they will die? .... 97 

A strange disputation : — 1. For the question. 2. 
The disputants. 

Wicked men will die or destroy themselves. 
Use. — The sinner's case is certainly unreasonable, 102 
Their seeming reasons confuted, . . 108 

Question. — Why are men so unreasonable, and loath 

to turn, and will destroy themselves? — Answered, 119 
DocT. VII. — If after all this, men will not turn, it is 
not God's fault that they are condemned, but their 
own, even their own wilfulness. They die because 
they will ; that is, because they will not turn, 122 

Use, 1. — How unfit the wicked are to charge God 
with their damnation. It is not because God is 
unmerciful, but because they are cruel and mer- 
ciless to themselves, . . . 120 
Object. — We cannot convert ourselves, nor have 

we Free-will — Answered, . . . 134 

Use 2. — The subtlety of Satan, the deceitfulness of 

sin, and the folly of sinners manifested, . 136 

Use, 3. — No wonder if the wicked would hinder the 

conversion and salvation of others, . . 13G 

Use, 4. — Man is the greatest enemy to himself, 137 

Man's destruction is of himself — Proved, . 139 

The heinous aggravations of self-destroying, . J44 

The concluding exhortation, . . . 146 

Ten Directions for those who had rather turn than 
die, ...... 151 



THE GREAT SUCCESS WHICH ATTENDED THE 
CALL WHEN FIRST PUBLISHED. 

It may be proper lo prefix an account of this book given 
by Mr. Baxter himself, which was found in his study, after 
his death, in his own words: 

" I published a short treatise on conversion, entitled, A 
Call to the Unconverted. The occasion of this was my 
converse with Bishop Usher while I was at London ; who, 
approving my method and directions for Peace of Con- 
science, was importunate with me to write directions 
suited to the various states of Christians, and also against 
particular sins. I reverenced the man, but disregarded 
these persuasions, supposing I could do nothing but what 
is done better already : but when he was dead, his words 
went deeper to my mind, and I purposed to obey his coun- 
sel; yet, so as that to the first sort of men, the ungodly, 
1 thought vehement persuasions meeter than directions 
only; and so for such I published this little book, which 
God hath blessed with unexpected success, beyond all the 
rest that I have written, except The Saint's Rest. In a 
little more than a year there were about twenty thousand 
of them printed by my own consent, and about ten thou 
sand since, beside many thousands by stolen impressions, 
which poor men stole for lucre's sake. Through God's 
mercy I have information of almost whole households 
converted by this small book which I set so light by; and, 
as if all this in England, Scotland, and Ireland, were not 
mercy enough to me, God, s.-nce I was silenced, hath sent 
it over in his message to many beyond the seas ; for when 



30 ADVERTISEMENT. 

Mr. Elliot had printed all the Bible in the Indian language, 
he next translated this my Call to the Unconverted, as he 
wrote to us here. And yet God would make some farther 
use of it ; for Mr. Stoop, the pastor of the French Church 
in London, being driven hence by the displeasure of his 
superiors, was pleased to translate it into French. I hope 
it will not be unprofitable tliere ; nor in Germany, wfcece 
also it has been printed." 

It may be proper further to mention Dr. Bates' account 
of the author, and of this useful treatise In his sermon 
at Mr. Baxter's funeral, he thus says : " His books of 
practical divinity have been effectual for more conver- 
sions of sinners to God than any printed in our time : and 
while the church remains on earth, will be of continual 
efficacy to recover lost souls. There is a vigorous pulse 
in them, that keeps the reader awake and attentive. His 
Call to the Unconverted, how small in bulk, but how 
powerful in virtue I Truth speaks in it with that authority 
and efficacy, that it makes the reader to lay his hand upon 
his heart, and find that he has a soul and a conscience, 
though he lived before as if he had none. He told some 
friends, that six brothers were converted by reading that 
Call; and that every week he received letters of some 
converted by his books. This he spake with most hum- 
ble thankfulness, that God was pleased to use him as an 
instrument for the salvation of soul^." 




A CAIiL 

EZEKIEL, 

Say unto them, As Hive, saith the Lord God, I have 
no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that 
the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye^ 
turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die, 
Ohou^e of Israel? 

It hath been the astonishing wonder of many a 
man £is well as me, to read in the Holy Scriptures how 
few will be saved, and that the greatest part even of 
those that are called, Avill be everlastingly shut out of 
the kingdom of heaven, and be tormented -with the 
devils in eternal fire. Infidels beUeve not tliis when 
they read it, and therefore they must feel it ; those 
that do beheve it are forced to cry out with Paul, 
(Rom. 11. 13,) " O the depth of the riches both of the 
wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable 
are his judgments, and Ms ways past finding out !" 
But nature iiself ' doth teach us all to lay the blame 
of evil works upon tlie doers ; and therefore when we 
see any heinous thing done, a principle of justice dotJi 
provoke us to inquire after him that did it, that the 
evil of the work may return the evi\ of shame upon 
the author. If we saw a man killed and cut in pieces 
by the way, we w^ould presently ask. Oh ! who did 
this cruel deed? If the town was wilfully set on fire, 
you would ask, what wicked wretch did this? So 
when we read that many souk will be miserable in 
hell for ever, we must needs think with ourselves, how 
comes this to pass? and whose fault is it? Who is it 



32 A CALL TO Doct. 1- 

ihat is so cruel as to be the cause of sucli a thiiic^ as 
this ? and we can meet with few tliat will own the 
guilt. It is indeed confessed by all, that Satan is the 
cause J but that doth not resolve tl:ie doubt, because 
l>e is not the principal cause. He doth not force men 
to sin, but tempts them to it, and leaves it to their 
own wills whether they will do it or not. He doth not 
carry men to an alehouse and force open their moutha 
and pour in the drink ; nor doth he hold them that 
they camiot go to God's service ; nor doth he force 
their hearts from holy thoughts. It lieth therefore 
between God himself and the sinner ; one of them 
must needs be the principal cause of all this misery, 
whichever it is, for there is no other to lay it upon ; 
and God disclaimeth it ; he will not take it upon him ; 
and the wicked disclaim it usually, and they wdl not 
take it upon them, and this is the controversy that is 
here managing in my text. 

The Lord complaineth of the people ; and the peo 
pie think it is the fault of God. The same controversy 
is handled, chap. 18. 25 : they plainly say, " that the 
way of the Lord is not equal." So here they say, 
verse 19, " If our transgressions and our sins be upon 
us, ai id we pine away in them, how shall we then 
hve?" As if they should say, if we must die, and be 
miser able, how can we help it "? as if it were not their 
fault, but God's. But God, in my text, doth clear 
himself of it, and telleth them how they may help it 
if they will, and persuadeth them to use the means; 
and if they will not be persuaded, he lets them know 
that it is the fault of themselves ; and if this will not 
satisfy them, he wil'. not forbear to punish them. It is 
he that will be the Judge, and he will judge them 
according to their ways; they are no judge of him 



Doct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 33 

or of tliemselves, as wanting autliority, and wisdom, 
and impartiality ; nor is it the cavilling and quarrelling 
with God that shall serve their turn, or save them 
from the execution of justice, at which they murmur. 

The words of this verse contain, 1. God's purgation 
or clearing himself from the blame of tlieir destruction. 
This he doth not by disowning his law, that the 
wicked shall die, nor by disowning his judgments and 
execution according to that law, or giving them any 
hope that the law shall not be executed ; but by pro- 
fessing that it is not their death that he takes pleasure 
in, but their returning rather, that they may live ; and 
this he confirmeth to them by his oath. 2. An ex- 
press exhortation to the wicked to return; wherein 
God doth not only command, but persuade and con- 
descend also to reason the case with them. Why will 
they die ? The direct end of this exhortation is, that 
they may turn and hve. The secondary or reserved 
ends, upon supposition that this is not attained, are 
these two : First, To convince them by the means 
which he used, that it is not the fault of God if they 
be miserable. Secondly, To convince them from 
their manifest wilfulness in rejecting all his commands 
and persuasions, that it is the fault of themselves, and 
they die, even because they will die. 

The substance of the text doth lie in these observa- 
tions following : — 

Doctrine 1. It is the unchangeable law of God, that 
wicked men must turn or die. 

Doctrine 2. It is the promise of God, that the wicked 
shall live, if they will but turn. 

Doctrine 3. God takes pleasure in men's conversion 
and salvation, but not in their death or damnation : he 



34 A CALL TO Doct. 1 

had rather they would return and hve, than go on 
and die. 

Doctrine 4. This is a most certain truth, which 
because God would not have men to question, he hath 
confirmed it to them solemnly by his oath. 

Doctrine 5. The Lord doth redouble his commands 
and persuasions to the wicked to turn. 

Doctrine 6. The Lord condescendeth to reason the 
case with them ; and asketh the wicked why they 
will die? 

Doctrine 7. If after all this the wicked will not turn, 
it is not the fault of God that they perish, but of them- 
selves; their own wilfulness is the cause of their 
own damnation ; they therefore die because they 
will die. 

Having laid the text open in these propositions, I 
shall next speak somewhat of each of them in order, 
though briefly. 

DOCTRINE L 

It is the unchangeahle law of God, that icickcd 
men must tuim, or die. 

If you will believe God, believe this: there is but 
one of these two ways for every wicked man, either 
conversion or damnation. I know the wicked will 
hardly be persuaded either of the truth or equity of 
this. No wonder if the guilty quarrel with the law. 
Few men are apt to believe that which they would 
not have to be true, and fewer wuuld have that to be 
true which they apprehended to be against them. But 
it is not quarrelling with the law, or with the judge, 
that will save the malefactor. Believing and regard- 
ing the law, might have prevented his deatli ; but 
denying and accusing it will but hasten it. If it were 



Ooct. 1. THt UNCONVERTED. 35 

not SO, a hundred would bring their reason against the 
law, for one that would bring his reason to the law. 
and men would rather choose to give their reasons 
why they should not be punished, than to hear the 
commands and reasons of their governors which re- 
quire them to obey. The law was not made for you to 
judge, but that you might be ruled and judged by it. 
But if there be any so blind as to venture to ques- 
tion either the truth or the justice of" this law of God. 
I shall briefly give you that evidence of both which 
methinksj should satisfy a reasonable man. 

And first, if you doubt whether this be the word of 
God, or not, besides a hundred other texts, you may 
be satisfied by these few:— Matt. 18: 3. "Verily I 
say unto you, except ye be converted and become as 
little children, ye cannot enter into the kingdom of 
God." John 3:3. " Verily, verily, I say unto you, 
except a man be born again he cannot see the king- 
dom of God." 2 Cor. 5: 17. " If any man be in Christ, 
he is a new creature ; old things are passed av/ay ; 
behold, all things are become new." Col. 3: 9, 10. 
" Ye have put off the old man with his deeds, and 
have put on the new man, which is renewed in know- 
ledge after the image of him tha: created him." Heb. 
12 : 14. " Without holiness no man shall see the 
Lord." Rom. 8: 8, 9. "So then they that are in the 
flesh cannot please God. Now if any man have not the 
spirit of Christ, he is none of his." Gal. 6: 15. " For 
in Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth any 
thing, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature." 1 Pet. 
1:3." According to his abundant grace he hath be- 
gotten us to a lively hope." Ver. 23. " Being born 
again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by 
the word of God. which livetli and abideth for ever." 



36 A CALL TO Doct. !. 

1 Pet. 2: Ij 2. "Wherefore laying aside all malice, 
and all guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and evil 
speaking, as new born babes, desire the sincere milk 
of the word, that ye may grow thereby." Psalm 9 : 
17. " The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the 
nations that forget God." Psalm 11: 4. "And the 
Lord loveth the righteous, but the wicked liis soul 
hateth." 

As I need not stay to open these texts which are 
60 plain, so I think I need not add any more of that 
multitude which i?peak the like. If thou be a man 
that dost believe the word of God, here is already 
enough to satisfy thee that the wicked must be con 
verted or condemned. You are already brought so 
far, that you must either confess that this is true, or 
say plainly, you will not beheve the word of God. 
And if once you be come to that pass, there is but 
small hopes of you : look to yourself as well as you 
can, for it is like you will not be long out of hell. You 
would be ready to fly in the face of him that should 
give you the lie ; and yet dare you give the he to 
God ? But if you tell God plainly you will not believe 
him, blame him not if he never warn you more, or if 
he forsake you, and give you up as hopeless ; for to 
what purpose should he warn j-ou, if you will not be- 
lieve liim ? Should he send an angel from heaven to 
you, it seems you would not believe. For an angel 
can speak but the word of God ; and if an angel should 
bring you any other gospel, you are not to receive it, 
but to hold him accursed. Gal. 1 : 8. And surely there 
is no angel to be believed before the Son of God, who 
came from the Father to bring us this doctrine. If He 
be not to be believed, then all the angels in heaven 
are not to he believed. And if you stand on these 



i)oct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 37 

terms with God, I shall leave you till he deal with you 
in a more convincing way. God hath a voice that 
will make you hear. Though he entreat you to hear 
the voice of his gospel, he will make you hear the 
voice of his condemning sentence, without entreaty. 
We cannot make you believe against your wills ; but 
God will make you feel against your wills. 

But let us hear what reason you have why you will 
not believe this word of God, which tells us that the 
wicked must be converted, or condemned. I know 
your reason ; it is because that you judge it unlikely 
that God should be so immerciful : you think it cruelty 
to damn men everlastingly for so small a thing as a 
sinful life. And this leads us to the second thing, 
which is to justify the equity of God in liis laws and 
judgments. 

And first, I think you will not deny that it is most 
suitable to an immortal soul to be ruled by laws that 
promise an immortal reward, and threaten an endless 
punishment. Otherwise the law should not be suited 
to the nature of the subject, who will not be fully 
ruled by any lower means than the hopes or fears of 
everlasting things : as it is in cases of temporal pun- 
isliment, if a law were now made that the most hei- 
nous crimes shall be punished witi: a hundred years' 
captivity, this might be of some efficacy, as being 
equal to our lives. But, if there had been no other 
penalties before the flood, when men lived eight or 
nine hundred years, it would not have been sufficient, 
because men would know that they iiiight have so 
many hundred years impunity afterward. So it is 
in our present case. 

2. 1 suppose that you will confess, that Ih? p^omisp 
of an endless and inconceivable glorv is not so unsuit- 
4 



ahlo to tho wijaiKMU iM' invK or tho cnsn^ of man: juvi 
why tht n slnniUl \-vxi ihm think i*^ of tlio thn\\t04\it\^ 

Jk WlxM) vvMi ftihl it in tlv >nTi! ot' G\\^ that »> i( 
is« and «■» It will U\ vl^ jt thn\k ytMiTvrl\Tt^ ttt h> v\mi- 
tmdiot tht^ >\>>r\i • Will mi i\Ol your Mak^r to \\w 
Ivvr. :iu<\ o\;vjnino l\is wv>T\i ii|vmi tln^ iicciissMtii'ni ol 
ti^ljat l^xx^ ' Will VvHi sit ujxvi hin\ and jiuijjt^ him by 
tho 1;UY c< \-o\)r oonorits • Aro \-imi wi^T, jwv'. KMtor, 
aivl niv>n' ruthtiviij^ than ho r" Miist tho (.nxi ot'hoaw.n 
oouio to ssi-lux-J to vAMi to kwHi wiA^oui •' Miist luttnito 
Wi!Si^v>n\ loan\ ^M' tolly, and lti(unt<» inxxino^j l>o oi>r- 
nvtod by a sinnor that oat\nt>t kot i^ > -wv If an hiMir 
oloan? Must tho Ahnijjhty st; Ivvr tM' a 

>vonn ? O homd am'^aiicy ot' .-^ ..j-i c -^ viiist ! slvUl 
owr uv^lo, or cUxi. vnf dvnxjrhill. nocifeat^ tho s\ni ol\^ark- 
iwsS) Mid imdeitsUcc to ilhin\iiv\t<» tix* worUl ?' Whcix^ 
imift yom ^PcIiW th» Alnnji^ity n>;¥t^o tho law-s, that 
1m ^ liol caU >>mi to his iXMin^^ ? SimMv ho mado 
them beftwip \-o\i wrn^ Kvrti, withixtt di>sirinjr ux»r 
advico ; and yon oatno inK> tho \wrld ny> lati" n> ns 
>Trs<^ thonv if Nvii ivxdi^ haw dono a> ifroat a Avi^rk. 
Yon s)>i\iki haw siop^xx^ init ot^^^>n^ ixMhnuntcs: ninl 
haw c\-HMn\dicti\i Christ \vhn\ N^ a>-;vs c«i oatlh. or 
Mv>j5rs Ivfort^ him. or haw s:\nxi Adam atnl his siiitxtl 
}>t\>jr[in- tRvn tho thixvxto.iHvl doatli, that »> tlwre 
mijji^t haw N.vn ih-* iHwi I'rt' Ohrw*, Aod \v*>at if 
Oivi \rit.hdn\>T his }v\tioi>ot^ and siK^mru? jx'Aw^.atKi 
l« yi>n dn"^> into hc\\ whilo \\xt arc quarrvlliuj: with 
htJi w-OT\^. >x-iU \-t\i thon K^liow that thon^ is a hell ? 

4. lt's)n be snoh at\ o\-il that it nx^ninMh tho death 
<vl" Ohnst Kv its o\pi;\thM\. iv'* wvMHior it' it desNA^e our 
e\x>rl;isui\jj miA^rv. 



Uoct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 39 

5. Anil ifthf; win ol' the. dcv'iU dcBcrvcd an endleas 
tonricrit, why not alno tho niri of rnan ? 

6. And rnethinkH you whould pcrc^^ivc thai it ig not 
fXJHHJhle for the UjHt of" men, much Ichh for the wicked, 
to be competent Judgert of tfje deHert of Hin. Alaw ! we 
are both blind and partial. You can never know fully 
the deMjrt of Hin, till you fully know the evil of Bin; 
Ufjd you can never fully know the evil of Kin, till you 
fully know, 1. The excellency of the houI wWch it 
deformeth. 2. And the excfdlency ofliolineaH which 
it obliterrUea. 3. The re;x«on and excellency of the 
law which it violates. 4. The excellency of the 
glory which it deHfjiHCH. 5. The excellency and of- 
fice of reawon which it treadcth down. 0. No, nor till 
you know the infinite excellency, almightineaB and 
holineBH of that God againHt whom it ih committed. 
When you fully know all the^e, you whall fully know 
the dcHcrt of gin benideH. You know that the offender 
iH too partial to judge the law, or the proceeding of 
his judge. We judge by feeling which biindy our 
reason. We see, in common worldly things, that mcwt 
men think the cause in right which is their own, and 
that all is wrong that is done against them ; and let 
the most wise or just impartial friends persuade them 
to the contrary, and it is all in vain. There are few 
children but think the father is unmerciful, or dealeth 
hardly with them if he whip them. There is Hr;arce 
the vilest wretch but thinketh the church doth wrong 
him if they excomrnunicaUi him : or w;arce a thief or 
murderer that is hanged, but would accuse the law 
and judge of cruelty, if that would serve their turn. 

7. Can you think that an unholy soul is fit for 
heaven? Ahis, they cannot love God here, nor do him 
any service which he can accept. They are contrary 



40 A CALL TO Doct. 1. 

to God; they loathe that which he most loveth, and 
love that which he abhorreth. They are incapable 
of that imperfect communion with Him which hia 
saints here partake of. How then can they live in 
that perfect love of him, and full delight and com- 
munion with him, which is the blessedness of heaven? 
You do not accuse yourselves of immercifulness, if 
you make not your enemy your bosom counsellor ; or 
if you take not your swine to bed and board with you : 
no, nor if you take away his life though he never sin- 
ned ; and yet you will blame the absolute Lord, the 
most wise and gracious Sovereign of the world, if he 
condemn the unconverted to perpetual misery. 

Use. — I beseech you now, all that love your souls, 
that, instead of quarrelling with God and witli his 
word, you will presently receive it, and use it for your 
good. All you that are yet unconverted, take this as the 
undoubted truth of God : — You must, ere long, be con- 
verted or condemned ; there is no other way but to 
turn, or die. When God, that cannot lie, hath told 
you this; w^hen you hear it from the Maker and 
Judge of the world, it is time for him that hath ears, 
to hear. By this time you may see what you liave 
to trust to. You are but dead and damned men, ex- 
cept you will be converted. Should I tell you other- 
wise, I should deceive you with a lie. Should I hide 
this from you, I should undo you, and be guilty of your 
blood, as the verses before my text assure me. — Verse 
8. " When I say to the wicked man, O wicked man, 
thou shalt surely die ; if thou dost not speak to warn 
the wicked from his way, that Avicked man shall die in 
his iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine 
hand." You see then, though this be a rough and 
unwelcome doctrine, it is such as we must preach, and 



Doct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 41 

you must hear. It is easier to hear of hell than feel 
it. If your necessities did not require it, we would 
not gall your tender ears with truths that seem so 
harsh and grievous. Hell would not be so full, if peo- 
ple were but willing to know their case, and to hear 
and think of it. The reason why so few escape it, is 
because they strive not to enter in at the strait gate of 
conversion, and go the narrow way of hoUness, while 
they have time : and they strive not, because they are 
not awakened to a lively feeling of the danger they 
are in ; and they are not awakened because they are 
loth to hear or think of it : and that is partly through 
foolish tenderness and carnal self-love, and partly be- 
cause they do not well believe the word that threat- 
eneth it. If you will not thoroughly believe this truth, 
methinks the weight of it should force you to remem- 
ber it, and it should follow you, and give you no rest 
till you are converted. If you had bet once heard 
this word by the voice of an angel, " Thou must be 
converted, or condemned : turn, or die :" would it not 
stick in your mind, and haunt you night and day ? so 
that in your sinning you would remember it, as if the 
voice were still in your ears, " Turn, or die !" O hap- 
py were your soul if it might thus work with you and 
never be forgotten, or let you alone till it have driven 
home your heart to God. But if you will cast it out 
by forgetfulness or unbelief, how can it work to your 
conversion and salvation ? But take this with you to 
your sorrow, though you may put this out of your 
mind, you cannot put it out of the Bible, but there 
it will stand as a sealed truth, wliich you shall expe- 
rimentally know for ever, that there is no other way 
but, " turn, or die." 
O what is the matter then that the hearts of ain- 



42 A CALL TO Doct. I 

ners are not pierced with suck a weiglity truth ? A 
man would think now, that every unconverted soul 
that hears these words should be pricked to the hearty 
and think with himself, ' This is my own case,' and 
never be quiet till he found himself converted. Believe 
it, this drowsy careless temper will not last long. Con- 
version and condemnation are both of them awaken- 
ing things, and one of them will make you feel ere 
long. I can foretell it as truly as if I saw it with my 
eyes, that either grace or hell will shortly bring these 
matters to the quick, and make you say, " What have 
I done? what a foolish wicked course have I taken?" 
The scornful and the stupid state of sinners will last 
but a little while : as soon as they either turn or die, 
the presumptuous dream will be at an end, and then 
their wits and feeling will return. 

But I foresee there are two things that are likely to 
harden the unconverted, and make me lose all my 
labor, except they can be taken out of the way ; and 
that is the misunderstanding on those two words, the 
wicked and Uirn. Some will think to themselves, 
' It is true, the wicked must turn or die ; but what is 
that to me, I am not wicked ; though I am a sinner, 
all men are.' Others will think, ' It is true that we 
must turn from our evil ways, but I am turned long 
ago ; I hope this is not now to do.' And thus while 
wicked men think they are not wicked, but are al- 
ready converted, we lose all our labor in persuading 
them to turn. I shall therefore, before I go any fur- 
ther, tell you here who are meant by the wicked j 
and who they are that must turn or die ; and also 
what is meant by turning, and who they are that are 
truly converted. And this I have purposely reserved 
for this place, preferring the method that fits my end. 



Doct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 43 

And here you may obser/e, that in the sense of the 
text, a wicked man and a converted man are contra- 
ries. No man is a wicked man that is converted ; and 
no man is a converted man that is wicked ; so that to 
be a wicked man and to be an unconverted man, ia 
all one ; and therefore in opening one, we shall open 
both. 

Before I can tell you what either wickedness or con- 
version is, I must go to the bottom, and fetch up the 
matter from the beginning. 

It pleased the great Creator of the world to make 
three sorts of living creatures. Angels he made pure 
spirits without flesh, and therefore he made them only 
for heaven, and not to dwell on earth. Brutes were 
made flesh, without immortal souls, and therefore 
they were made only for earth, and not for heaven. 
Man is of a middle nature, between both, as partak- 
ing of both flesh and spirit, and therefore he was made 
both for heaven and earth. But as liis flesh is made 
to be but a servant to his spirit, so is he made for earth 
but as his passage or way to heaven, and not that this 
should be his home or happiness. The blessed state 
that man wels made for, was to behold the glorious 
majesty of the Lord, and to praise him among his 
Holy Angels, and to love him, and to be filled with 
his love for ever. And as this was the end that man 
was made for, so God did give him means that were 
fitted to the attaining of it. These means were prin- 
cipally two : First, the right inclination and disposi- 
tion of the mind of man. Secondly, The right order 
ing of his life and practice. For the first, God suited 
the disposition of man unto his end, giving him such 
knowledge of God as was fit for his present state, and 
a heart disposed and inclined to God in holy love. But 



44 A CALL TO Doct. 1. 

yet he did not fix or confirm him in this condition, but, 
having made him a free agent, he left him in the 
hands of his own free will. For the second, God did 
that which belonged to him ; that is, he gave him a 
perfect law, required him to continue in the love of 
God, and perfectly to obey him. By the wilful breach 
of this law, man did not only forfeit his hopes of ever- 
lasting life, but also turned his heart from God, and 
fixed it on these lower fleshly things, and hereby blot- 
ted out the spiritual image of God from his soul ; so 
that man did both fall short of the glory of God, which 
was his end, and put himself out of the way by which 
he should have attained it, and this both as to the 
frame of his heart, and of his life. The holy inclina- 
tion and love of his soul to God, he lost, and instead 
of it he contracted an inclination and love to the plea- 
sing of his flesh, or carnal self, by earthly things ; 
growing strange to God and acquainted with the 
creature. And the course of this life was suited to 
the bent and inclination of his heart ; he lived to his 
carnal self, and not to God ; he sought the creature, 
for the pleasing of his flesh, instead of seeking to please 
the Lord. With this nature or corrupt inclination, 
we are all now born mto tiie world ; " for who can 
bring a clean thing out of an unclean ?" Job, 14 : 4. 
As a lion hath a fierce and cruel nature before he doth 
devour; and an adder hath a venomous nature before 
she sting, so in our infancy we have those sinful na- 
tures or inclinations, before we think, or speak, or do 
amiss. And hence springeth all the sin of our lives ; 
and not only so, but when God hath, of his mercy, pro- 
vided us a remedy, even the Lord Jesus Clirist, to be 
the Savior of our souls, and bring us back to God 
again, wc naturally love our present state, and are 



Docl. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 45 

loth to be brought out of it, and therefore are set 
against the means of our recovery : and though cus- 
tom hath taught us to thank Christ for his good-will, 
yet carnal self persuades us to refuse his remedies, and 
to desire to be excused when we are commanded to 
take the medicines which he offers, and are called to 
forsake all and follow him to God and glory. 

I pray you read over tliis leaf again, and mark it ; 
for in these few words you have a true description of 
our natural state, and consequently of wicked man ; 
for every man that is in the state of corrupted nature 
is a wicked man, and in a state of death. 

By this also you are prepared to understand what 
it is to be converted : to which end you must further 
know, that the mercy of God, not willing that man 
should perish in his sin, provided a remedy, by caus- 
ing his Son to take our nature, and being, in one per- 
son, God and man, to become a mediator between 
God and man ; and by dying for our sins on the cross, 
to ransom us from the curse of God and the power of 
the devil. And having thus redeemed us, the Father 
hath delivered us into his hands as his own. Here- 
upon the Father and the Mediator do make a new 
law and covenant for man, not like the first, which 
gave life to none but tlie perfectly obedient, and con- 
demned man for every sin ; but Christ hath made a 
law of grace, or a promise of pardon and everlasting 
life to all that, by true repentance, and by faith m 
Christ, are converted unto God ; like an act of oblivion, 
wliich is made by a prince to a company of rebels, on 
condition they will lay down their arms and come in 
and be loyal subjects for the time to come. 

But, because the Lord knoweth that the heart of 
man is grown so wicked, that, for all this, men will 



46 A CALL TO Doct. 1 

not accept of the remedy if iliey be left to themselvep, 
theretbre the Hoi}'' Gliost hatli undertaken it as liia 
office to inspire the Ajx)stles, and seal the Scriptures 
by miracles and wonders, and to illuminate and con- 
vert the souls of the elect. 

So by this much you see, that as there are three 
persons in the Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the 
Holy Ghost, so each of these persons have their several 
works, Avhich are eminently ascribed to them. 

The Father's works were, to create us, to rule us, 
as his rational creatures, by the law of nature, and 
judge us thereby ; and in mercy to provide us a Re- 
deemer when we were lost ; and to send his Son, and 
accept his ransom. 

The works of the Son for us were these : to ransom 
and redeem us by his suffering and righteousness ; to 
give out the promise or law of grace, and rule and 
judge the world as their Redeemer, on terms of grace : 
and to make intercession for us, that the benefits of his 
death may be communicated ; and to send the Holy 
Ghost, which the Father also doth by the Son. 

The works of the Holy Ghost, for us, are these : to 
mdite the Holy Scriptures, by inspiring and guiding 
the Apostles, and sealing the word, by his miraculous 
gifts and works, and the illuminating and exciting the 
ordinary ministers of the gospel, and so enabling them 
and helping them to publish that word ; and by the 
same word illuminating and converting the souls of 
men. So that as you could not have been reasonable 
creatures, if the Father had not created you, nor have 
had any access to God, if the Son had not died, so 
neither can you have a part in Christ, or be saved, 
except the Holy Ghost do sanctify you. 

So that by this time you may see the several causes 



Doct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 47 

of this woi-k. The Father sendeth the Son : the Son 
redeemeth us and maketh the promise of grace : the 
Holy Ghost inditeth and sealeth this Gospel: the 
Apostles are the secretaries of the Spirit to write it : 
the preachers of the Gospel to proclaim it, and per- 
suade men to open it : and the Holy Ghost doth make 
their preaching effectual, by opening the hearts of 
men to entertain it. And all this to repair the image 
of God upon the soul, and to set the heart upon God 
again, and take it off the creature and carnal self to 
which it is revolted, and so to turn the current of the 
life into a heavenly course, which before was earthly ; 
and through this, embracing Christ by faith, who is 
the Physician of the soul. 

By what I have said, you may see what it is to be 
wicked, and what it is to be converted ; which, I think, 
will yet be plainer to you, if 1 describe them as con- 
sisting of their several parts. And for the first, a wicked 
man may be known by these three things : 

First, He is one who placeth his chief affections on 
earth, and loveth the creature more than God, and 
his fleshly prosperity above the heavenly felicity. He 
savoreth the things of the flesh, but neither discern 
eth nor savoreth the things of the Spirit ; though he 
wfil say, that heaven is better than earth, yet he doth 
not really so esteem it to himself. If he might be sure 
of earth, he would let go heaven, and had rather stay 
here than be removed thither. A life of perfect holi- 
ness in the sight of God, and in his love and praises 
for ever in heaven, doth not find such liking with his 
heart as a life of health, and wealth, and honor here 
upon earth. And though he falsely profess that he 
loves God above all, yet indeed he never felt the power 
of divine love within him, but his mind is more set on 



48 A CALL I'D Docl. 1 

word or fleshly pleasures than on God. In a word, 
whoever loves earth above heaven, and fleshly pros- 
perity more than God, is a wicked unconverted man. 

On the other hand, a converted man is illuminated 
to discern the loveliness of God, and so far believeth 
the glory that is to be had with God, that his heart 
is taken up with it and set more upon it than any 
thing in this world. He had rather see the face of 
God, and live in his everlasting love and praises, than 
have all the wealth or pleasures of the world. He 
seeth that all things else are vanity, and nothing but 
God can fill the soul ; and therefore let the world go 
which way it will, he layeth up his treasures and 
hopes in heaven, and for that he is resolved to let go 
all. As the fire doth mount upward, and the needle 
that is touched with the loadstone still turns to the 
north, so the converted soul is inclined unto Gfod. No- 
thing else can satisfy him : nor can he find any con- 
tent and rest but in his love. In a word, all that are 
converted do esteem and love God better than all the 
world, and the heavenly felicity is dearer to them 
than their fleshly prosperity. The proof of what I 
have said you may find in these places of Scriptures : 
Phil. 3 : 18, 21. Matt. 6 : 19, 20, 21. Col. 3 : I, 4. 
Rom. 8 : 5, 9, 18, 23. Psalm 73 : 25, 26. 

Secondly, A wicked man is one that makes it the 
principal business of his life to prosper in the world, 
and attain his fleshly ends. And though he may read, 
and hear, and do much in the outward duties of reli- 
gion, and forbear disgraceful sins, yet this is all but 
by-the-by, and he never makes it the principal busi- 
ness of his life to please God, and attain everlast- 
ing glory, and puts off" God with the leavings of the 
world, and ffives him no more service than the flesli 



Doct. I. THE UNCONVERTED. 49* 

can spare, for he will not part with all for heaven. 

On the contrary, a converted man is one that makes 
it the principal care and business oi' his life to please 
God, and to be saved, and takes all the blessings of 
this life but as accommodations in his journey toward 
another life, and useth the creature in subordination 
to God ; he loves a holy life, and longs to be more 
holy ; he hath no sin but what he hateth, and longeth, 
and prayeth, and striveth to be rid of. The drift and 
bent of his life is for God, and if he sin, it is contrary 
to the very bent of his heart and life ; and therefore he 
riseth again and lamenteth it, and dares not wilfully 
live in any known sin. There is nothing in this world 
so dear to him but he can. give it up to God, and for- 
sake it for him and the hopes of glory. All this you 
may see in Col 3 : 1, 5. Matt. 6 : 20, 33. Luke, 18 : 
22, 23, 29. Luke, 14 : 18, 24, 26, 27. Rom. 8 : 13. 
Gal. 5 : 24. Luke 12 : 21, &c. 

Thirdly, The soul of a wicked man did never truly 
discern and relish the mystery of redemption, nor 
thankfully entertain an offered Savior, nor is he taken 
up with the love of the Redeemer, nor willing to be 
ruled by him as the Physician of his soul, that he may 
be saved from the guilt and power of his sins, and re- 
covered to God ; but his heart is insensible of this un- 
speakable benefit, and is quite against the healing 
means by which he should be recovered. Though he 
may be willing to be outwardly religious, yet he never 
resigns up his soul to Christ, and to the moti(«s and 
conduct of his word and Spirit. 

On the contrary, the converted soul having felt 
himself undone by sin, and perceiving that he hath 
lost liis peace with God and hopes of heaven, and is in 
danger of everlasting misery, doth tliankfully entPi*- 



50 A CALL TO Doct 1 

tain the tidings of redemption, and believing in the 
Lord Jesus as his only Savior, resigns himself up to 
him for wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and re- 
demption. He takes Christ as the life of his soul, ana 
lives by him, and uses him as a salve for every sore 
admiring the wisdom and love of God in this wonder- 
ful work of man's redemption. In a word, Christ doth 
even dwell in his heart by faith, and the life that he 
now liveth, is by the faith of the Son of God, that 
loved him, and gave himself for him ; yea, it is not so 
much he that liveth, as Christ in him. For these, 
see Job, 1 : 11, 12; and 3 : 19, 20. Rom. 8 : 9. Phil. 
3 : 7, 10. Gal. 2 : 20. Job, 15 : 2, 3, 4. 1 Cor. 1 : 20. 
2:2. 

You see now, in plain terms from the Word of God, 
who are the wicked and who are the converted. Igno- 
rant people think, that if a man be no swearer, nor 
curser, nor railer, nor drunkard, nor fornicator, nor ex- 
tortioner, nor wrong any body in his dealings, and if 
he come to church and say his prayers, he cannot be 
a wicked man. Or if a man that hath been guilty 
of drunkenness, swearing, or gaming, or the like vices, 
do but forbear them for the time to come, they think 
that this is a converted man. Others think if a man 
that hath been an enemy, and scorner at godliness, 
do but approve it, and be hated for it by the wicked, 
as the godly are, that this must needs be a converted 
man. And some are so foolish as to think that they 
are converted by taking up some new opinion, and 
falling into some dividing party. And some think, 
if they have but been affrighted by the fears of hell, 
and had convictions of conscience, and thereupon 
have purposed and promised amendment, and take up 
a life of civil behavior and outward relij^ion, that thia 



Ooct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 51 

must needs be true conversion. And these are the 
poor deluded souls that are Hke to lose the benefit of 
all our persuasions; and when they hear that the 
wicked must turn or die, they think that this is not 
spoken to them, for they are not wicked, but are turned 
already. And therefore it is that Christ told some oi 
the rulers of the Jews who were greater and more 
civil than the common people, that " publicans and 
harlots go into the kingdom of Christ before them." 
Matt. 21 : 31. Not that a harlot or gross sinner can 
be saved without conversion ; but because it was easier 
to make these gross sinners perceive their sin and mi- 
sery, and the necessity of a change, than the more 
civil sort, who delude themselves by thinking that 
they are converted already, when they are not. 

O sirs, conversion is another kind of work than most 
are aware of. It is not a small matter to bring an 
earthly mind to heaven, ajid to show man the amiable 
excellence of God, till he be taken up in such love to 
him that can never be quenched ; to break the heart 
for sin, and make him fly for refuge to Christ, and 
thankfully embrace him as the life of his soul ; to have 
the very drift and bent of the heart and life changed ; 
so that a man renounceth that which he took for his 
felicity, and placeth liis felicity where he never did 
before , and lives not to the same end, and drives not 
on the same design in the world, as he formerly did. 
In a word, he that is in Christ is a " new creature : 
old things are passed away: behold, all things are 
become new." 2 Cor. 5 : 17. He hath a new under- 
standing, a new will and resolution, new sorrows, and 
desires, and love, and delight; new thoughts, new 
speeches, new company, (if possible,) and a new con- 
versation. Sin, that before was a jesting matter with 



52 A CALL TO Doct. 1 

Jiim, is now so odious and terrible to liim that he flies 
from it as from deatli. Tiie world, that was so lovely 
in his eyes, doth now appear hut as vanity and vexa- 
tion : God, that was helbre neglected, is now the only 
happiness of his soul : before he was forgotten, and 
every lust preferred before him, but now he is set next 
the heart, and all things must give place to him ; the 
heart is taken up in the attendance and observance 
of him, is grieved when he hides his face, and never 
thinlffi itself well without him. Christ himself, that 
was wont to be shghtly thought of, is now his only 
hope and refuge, and he lives upon him as on liis 
daily bread; he cannot pray without him, nor rejoice 
without him, nor think, nor speak, nor live without 
him. Heaven itself, that before was looked upon but 
as a tolerable resen^e, which he hoped might serve 
his turn better than hell, when he could not stay any 
longer in the world, is now taken for his home, the 
place of his only hope and rest, where he shall see, 
and love, and praise that God that hath his heart al- 
ready. Hell, that did seem before but as a bugbear 
to frighten men from sin, doth nov/ appear to be a real 
misery that is not to he ventured on, nor jested with. 
The works of holiness, of which before he was weary, 
and thought to be more than needful, are now both his 
recreation, and his business, and the trade that he hves 
upon. The Bible, which was before to him but almost 
as a common book, is now as the law of God ; as a let- 
ter written to him, and subscribed with the name of 
the Eternal Majesty ; it is the rule of his thoughts, 
and words, and deeds ; the commands are binding, the 
threats are dreadful, and the promises of it speak life 
to his soul. The godly, tliat seemed to him but like 
other men. are ncv/ the most excellent and happy on 



DocL 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 53 

earth. And the wicked that were his playfellows are 
now his grief; and he that could laugh at their sins 
is readier now to weep for their sin and misery, and 
to say with those of old, (Psalm 16 : 3 ; 15 : 4. Phil. 
3 : 18.) " But to the saints that are in the earth, and to 
the excellent, in whom is all my delight." " In whose 
eyes a vile person is contemned ; but he honoreth them 
that fear the Lord : he that sweareth to his own hurt, 
and changeth not." " For many walk, of whom I 
have told you often, and now tell you, even weeping, 
that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ." In 
short, he hath a new end in his thoughts, and a new 
way in his endeavors, and therefore his heart and life 
are new. Before, his carnal self was his end, and his 
pleasure and worldly profits and credit were his way ; 
and now God and everlasting glory are his end, and 
Christ, and the Spirit, and word, and ordinances. Ho- 
liness to God, and righteousness and mercy to men, 
these are liis way. Before, self was the chief ruler, 
to which the matters of God and conscience must 
stoop and give place ; and now God, in Christ, by the 
Spirit, word and ministry, is the chief ruler, to whom 
both self and all the matters of self must give place. 
So that this is not a change in one, or two, or twenty 
points, but in the whole soul, and in the very end and 
bent of the conversation. A man may step out of one 
path into another, and yet have his face the same 
way, and be still going toward the same place ; but it 
is another matter to turn quite back, and take hia 
journey quite the contrary way, to a contrary place. 
So it is here ; a man may turn from drunkenness, and 
forsake other gross disgraceful sins, and set upon some 
duties of religion, and yet be still going to the same end 
as before, loving bis carnal self above all, and giving 



54 A CALL TO Doct. 1. 

it still the government of his bouI ; but when he is con- 
verted, this self is denied, and taken down, and God is 
set up, and his face is turned the contrary way : and 
he that before was addicted to himself, and lived to 
himself, is now, by sanctification, devoted to GJod, and 
liveth unto God. Belbre, he asked himself what he 
should do with his time, his parte, and his estate, and 
for himself he used them ; but now he asketh God 
what he shall do with them, and useth them for him. 
Before, he would please God so far as might accord 
with the pleasure of his flesh and carnal self, but not 
to any great displeasure of them ; but now he will 
please God, let flesh and self be never so much dis- 
pleased. This is the great change that God will make 
upon all that shall be saved. 

You can say, that the Holy Ghost is our sanctifier ; 
but do you know what sanctification is ? Why, this 
is what I have now opened to you ; and every man 
and Avoman in the world must have this, or be. f^- 
demned to everlasting misery. They must turn or die. 

Do you believe all this, sirs, or do you not? Surely 
you dare not say you do not ; for it is past a doubt or 
denial. These are not controversies, where one learned 
pious man is of one mind, and another of another; 
where one party saith this, and the other saith that. 
Every sect among us that deserve to be called Chris- 
tians are all agreed in this that I have said ; and if 
you w^ill not believe the God of truth, and that in a 
case where every sect and party do believe him, you 
are utterly inexcusable. 

But if you do believe this, how comes it to pass that 
you live so quietly in an unconverted state ? Do yoii 
know that you are converted ? and can you find this 
wonderful change upon your souk ? Have you been 



Doct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 55 

thus born again, and made new? Are not these 
strange matters to many of you, and such as you 
never felt within yourselves ? If you cannot tell the 
day or week of your change, or the very sermon that 
converted you, yet do you find that the work is done, 
that such a change indeed there is, and that you have 
such hearts a^ are before described ? Alas ! the most 
do follow their worldly business, and little trouble their 
minds with such thoughts. And if they be restrained 
from scandalous sins, and can say, " I am no whore- 
monger, nor thief, nor curser, nor swearer, nor tippler, 
nor extortioner ; I go to church, and say my prayers ;" 
they think that this is true conversion, and they shall 
be saved as well as any. Ala? ! this is foolish cheat- 
ing of yourselves. This is too much contempt of an 
endless glory, and too gross neglect of your immortal 
souls. Can you make so light of heaven and hell ? 
Your corpse will shortly lie in the dust, and angels or 
devils will presently seize upon your souls ; and every 
man or woman of you all will shortly be among other 
company, and in another case than now you are. 
You will dwell in these houses but a httle longer ; you 
will work in your shops and fields but a little longer ; 
you will sit in these seats and dwell on this earth but 
a little longer ; you will see with these eyes, and hear 
with these ears, and speak with these tongues, but a 
little longer, till the resurrection-day ; and can you 
make shift to forget this ? O what a place will you 
shortly be in of joy or torment ! O what a sight will 
you shortly see in heaven or hell ! O what thouglits 
will shortly fill your hearts with unspeakable delight 
or horror ! What work will you be employed in ! to 
praise the Lord with saints and angels, or to cry out 
in fire unquenchable, with devils ; and should all tins 



56 A CALL TO Doct. 1. 

be forgotten ? And all this will be endless, and sealed 
up by an unchangeable decree. Eternity, eternity 
will be the measure of your joys or sorrows : and can 
this be forgotten ? And all this is true, sirs, most cer- 
tainly true. When you have gone up and down a 
little longer, and slept and awaked a few times more, 
you will be dead and gone, and find all true that now 
I tell you : and yet can you now so much foi get it ? 
You shall then remember that you had this call, and 
that, this day, in this place, you were reminded of 
these things, and perceive them matters a thousand 
times greater than either you or I could here conceive ; 
and yet shall they be now so much forgotten ? 

Beloved friends, if the Lord had not awakened me 
to believe and to lay to heart these things myself, I 
should have remained in a dark and selfish state, and 
have perished for ever ; but if he have truly made me 
sensible of them, it will constrain me to compassionate 
you as well as myself If your eyes were so far opened 
as to see hell, and you saw your neighbors that were 
unconverted dragged thither with hideous cries: 
though they were such as you accounted honest peo- 
ple on earth, and feared no such danger themselves, 
such a sight would make you go home and think of 
it, and think again, and make you warn all about you, 
as that lost worldling, Luke 16 : 28, would have had 
his brethren warned, lest they come to that place of 
torment. Why, faith is a kind of sight} it is the eye 
of the soul, the evidence of things not seen. If 1 be- 
lieve God, it is next to seeing ; and therefore I beseech 
you excuse me if I be half as earnest with you about 
these matters as if I had seen them. If I must die 
to-morrow, and it were in my power to come agam 
from another world, and tell you what I had seen, 



Doct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 57 

Avould you not be willing to hear me ? and would you 
not believe, and regard what I should tell you ? If I 
might preach one sermon to you after I am dead, and 
have seen what is done in the world to come, would 
you not have me plainly speak the truth, and would 
you not crowd to hear me, and would you not lay it 
to heart 7 But this must not be ; God hath his ap- 
pointed way of leaching you by Scriptures and mi- 
nisters, and he will not humor unbelievers so far as to 
send men from the dead to them, and alter his esta- 
blished way ; if any man quarrel with the sun, God 
will not humor him so far as to set up a clearer light. 
Friends, I beseech you regard me now as you would 
do if I should come from the dead to you ; for I can 
give you els full assurance of the truth of what I say 
to you as if I had been there and seen it with my 
eyes ; for it is possible for one from the dead to deceive 
you; but Jems Christ can never deceive you; the 
Word of God delivered in Scripture, and sealed by 
miracles, and holy workings of the Spirit, can nnver 
deceive you. Believe this or believe nothing. Be- 
heve and obey this, or you are undone. Now, as ever 
you believe the word of God, and as ever you care 
for the salvation of your souls, let me beg of you this 
reasonable request, and I beseech you deny me not : 
That you would now remember what has been said, 
and enter into an earnest search of your hearts, and 
say to yourselves — Is it so indeed ; must I turn or die? 
Must I be converted or condemned ? It is time for me 
then to look about me before it be too late. O why did 
not I look after this till now ? Why did I venturously 
put off or neglect so great a business ? Was I aw^ake, 
or in my wits ? O blessed God, what a mercy is it 
that tuou didst not cut off my life all this while, be- 



58 A CALL TO Doct. 1, 

fore I had any certain hope of eternal life ! Well, 
God forbid that I should ne»;lect tliis work any longer. 
What state is my soul in ? Am I converted, or am I 
not ? Was ever such a cliange or work done uix)n my 
Boul? Have I been illuminated by the word and 
Spirit of the Lord to see the odiousnesa of sin, the 
need of a Savior, the love of Christ, and the excel- 
lences of God and glory ? la my heart broken or hum- 
bled within me for my former lilc ? Have I thank- 
fully entertained my Savior and Lord that offered 
himself with pardon and life for my soul ? Do I hate 
my former sinful life and the remnant of every sin 
that is in me ? Do I fly from them as my deadly ene- 
mies? Do I give up myself to a life of holiness and 
obedience to God? Do I love it and delight in it? 
Can I truly say that I am dead to the world, and car- 
nal self, and that I live for God and the glory which 
he hath promised ? Hath heaven more of my esti- 
mation and resolution than earth? And is God the 
dearest and highest in my soul ? Once, I am sure, I 
lived principally to the world and flesh, and God had 
nothing but some heartless services, which the world 
could spare, and which were the leavings of the flesh. 
Is my heart now turned another way ? Have I a new 
design and a new end, and a new train of holy affec- 
tions ? Have I set my hopes and heart in heaven ? 
And is it not the scope, and design, and bent of my 
heart, to get well to heaven, and see the glorious face 
of God, and live in his love and praise ? And when 
I sin, is it against the habitual bent and design of my 
heart? And do I conquer all gross sins, and am 1 
■weary and willing to be rid of my infiiTnities ? This 
is the state of converted souls. And thus it must be 
with me, or I must perish. Is it thus with me indeed, 



Doct 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 59 

or is it not ? It is time to get this doubt resolved, be- 
fore the dreadful Judge resolve it. I am not such a 
stranger to my own heart and life, but I may some- 
what perceive whether I am thus converted or not : if 
I be not, it will do me no good to flatter my soul with 
false conceits and hopes. I am resolved no more to 
deceive myself, but endeavor to know truly whether 
I be converted or not : that if I be, I may rejoice in it, 
and glorify my gracious Lord, and comfortably go on 
till I reach the crown : and if I am not, I may set my- 
self to beg and seek after the grace that should con- 
vert me, and may turn without any more delay. For, 
if I find in time that I am out of the way, by the help 
of Christ I may turn and be recovered ; but if I stay 
till either my heart be forsaken of God in blindness or 
hardness, or till I be catched away by death, it is then 
too late. There is no place for repentance and con- 
version then ; I know it must be now or never. 

Sirs, this is my request to you, that you will but 
take your hearts to task, and thus examine them till 
you see, if it nviy be, whether you are converted or 
not ? And if you cannot find it out by your own en- 
deavors, go to your ministers, if they be faithful and 
experienced men, and desire their assistance. The 
matter is great ; let not bashful ness, nor carelessness 
iiindcr you. They are set over you, to advise you, for 
the saving of your soul, as physicians advise you for 
the curing of your bodies. It undoes many thousands 
that they think they are in the way to salvation when 
they are not ; and think that they are converted when 
it is no such thing. And then when we call to them 
daily to turn, they go away as they came, and think 
that this concerns not them ; lor they are turned al- 
ready, and hone they diaU do well enough in the way 



60 A CALL TO Docl. 1. 

that they are in, at least if they pick the fairest path, 
and avoid some of the foulest steps, when, alas ! all 
tliis while they live but to the world and flesh, and 
are strangers to Gfod and eternal life ; and are quite 
out of the way to heaven. And all this because we 
cannot persuade them to a few serious thoughts of 
their condition, and to spend a few hours in the ex- 
amining of their states. Are there not maiiy self- 
deceivers who hear me this day, that never bestowed 
one hour, or quarter of an hour, in all their lives, to 
examine their souls, and try whether they are truly 
converted or not ? O merciful God, that will care ibr 
such wretches that care no more for themselves, and 
that will do so much to save them from hell, and help 
them to heaven, who will do so little for it themselves ! 
If all that are in the way to hell, and in the state of 
damnation, did but know it, they durst not continue 
in it. The greatest hope that the devil hath of bring- 
ing you to damnation without a rescue, is by keeping 
you blindfold, and ignorant of your state, and making 
you believe that you may do well enough in the way 
that you are in. If you knew that you were out of 
the way to heaven, and were lost for ever if you should 
die as you are, durst you sleep another night in the 
state that you are in ? Durst you live another day in 
it ? Could you heartily laugh, or be merry in such a 
state ? What ! And not know but you may be snatch- 
ed away to hell in an hour ? Sure it would constrain 
you to forsake your former company and courses, and 
to betake yourselves to the ways of holiness and the 
communion of saints. Sure it would drive you to cry 
to God for a new heart, and to seek help of those that 
are fit to counsel you. There are none of you that 
care for beinn- damned. Well, then I beseech you 



Doct. 2. THE UNCONVERTED. 61 

presently make inquiry into your hearts, and give 
them no rest till you find out your condition, that if it 
be good, you may rejoice in it, and go on ; and if it be 
bad, you may presently look about you for recovery, 
as men that believe they must turn or die. What say 
you, sirs, will you resolve and promise to be at thus 
much labor for your own souls ? Will you now enter 
upon this self-examination ? Is my request unreason- 
able 1 Your consciences know it is not. Resolve on 
it then, before you stir ; knowing how much it con- 
cerneth your souls. I beseech you, for the sake of that 
God that doth command you, at whose bar you will 
all shortly appear, that you do not deny me this rea- 
sonable request. For the sake of those souls that must 
turn or die, I beseech you deny me not ; but make it 
your business to understand your own conditions, and 
build upon sure ground, and know whether you are 
converted or not ; and venture not your souls on negh- 
gent security. 

But perhaps you will say, ' What if we should find 
ourselves yet unconverted, what shall we do then V 
This question leads me to my second Doctrine, which 
will do much to the answering of it, to Avhich I now 
proceed. 



DOCTRINE II. 

It is the promise of God, that the wicked shall iive^ 
if they will but turn — unfeignedly and thorough- 
ly turn. 

The Lord here professeth that this is what he takes 
pleeisure in, that the wicked turn and live. Heaven 
is made as sure to the converted, as hell is to the un- 
converted. Turn and live, is as certain a truth a» 
6 



63 A CALL TO Dwt. 2. 

turn or die. God w£is not bound to provide us a Sa- 
vior, nor open to us a door of hope, nor call us to re- 
pent and turn, when once we had ceist ourselves away 
by sin. But he hath freely done it to magnify his 
mercy. Sinners, there are none of you shall have 
cause to go home, and say I preach desperation to 
you. Do we use to shut the door of mercy against 
you 1 O that you would not shut it up against your- 
selves ! Do we use to tell you that God will have no 
mercy on you, though you turn and be sanctified ? 
When did you ever hear a preacher say such a word ? 
You that cavil at the preachers of the Gospel for de- 
siring to keep you out of hell, and say, that they 
preach desperation ; tell me if you can ; when did you 
ever hear any sober man say, that there is no hope 
for you, though you repent, and be converted ? No, it 
is the direct contrary that we daily proclaim from the 
Lord ; and whoever is born again, and by faith and 
repentance doth become a new creature, shall cer- 
tainly be saved ; and so far are we from persuading 
you to despair of this, that we persuade you not to 
make any doubt of it. It is life, not death, that is the 
first part of our message to you ; our commission is to 
offer salvation, certain salvation ; a speedy, glorious, 
everlasting salvation, to every one of you ; to the poor- 
est beggar as well as the greatest lord ; to the worst 
of you, even to drunkards, swearers, worldlings, thieves, 
yea, to the despisers ajid reproachers of the holy way 
of salvation. We are commanded by the Lord our 
Master to offer you a pardon for all that is past, if you 
will but now at last return and live ; we are com- 
manded to beseech and entreat you to accept the offer, 
and return ; to tell you what preparation is made by 
Christ; what mercy stays for you; what patience 



Doct. 2. THE UNCONVERTED. 63 

waiteth for you ; what thoughts of kindness God hath 
toward yon ; and how happy, how certainly and un- 
speakably happy you may be if you will. We have 
indeed also a message of wrath and death, yea, of a 
twofold wrath and death ; but neither of them is o\ir 
principal message. We must tell you of the wrath 
that is on you already, and the death that you are 
born under, for the breach of the law of works ; but 
this is but to show you the need of mercy, and tc 
provoke you to esteem the grace of the Redeemer. 
And we tell you nothing but the truth, which you 
must Imow ; for who will seelc for physic that knows 
not that he is sick 1 Our telling you of your misery 
is not that which makes you miserable, but driveth 
you out to seek for mercy. It is you that have brought 
this death upon yourselves. We tell you also of an- 
other death, even remediless, and much greater tor- 
ment, that will fall on those that will not be converted. 
But as this is true, and must be told you, so it is but 
the last and saddest part of our message. We are 
first to offer you mercy, if you will turn ; and it is only 
those that will not turn, nor hear the voice of mercy, 
to whom we must foretell damnation. Will you but 
cast away your transgressions, delay no longer, but 
come away at the call of Christ, and be converted, 
and become new creatures, and we have not a word 
of damning wrath or death to speak against you. I 
do here, in the name of the Lord of Life, proclaim to 
you all that hear me this day, to the worst of you, to 
the greatest, to the oldest sinner, that you may have 
mercy and salvation, if you will but turn. There is 
mercy in God, there is sufficiency in the satisfaction 
of Christ, the promise is free, and full, and universal ; 
you may have life, if you will but turn. But then, 



64 A CALL TO DocL 2. 

as you love your souls, remeniber what turning it is 
that the Scripture ypeaks of. It is not to mend the old 
house, but to pull down all, and build anew on Christ, 
the Rock, and sure foundation. It is not to mend 
somewhat in a carnal course of hfe, but to mortify the 
flesh, and live after the Spirit. It is not to serve the 
flesh and the Vv^orld, in a more reformed way, without 
any scandalous disgraceful sins, and with a certain 
kind of religiousness ; but it is to change your master, 
and your works, and end ; and to set your face the 
contrary way, and do all for the life that you never 
saw, and dedicate yourselves and all you have to 
Grod. This is the change that must be made, if you 
will live. 

Yourselves are witnesses now, that it is salvation, 
and not damnation, that is the great doctrine I preach 
to you, and the first part of my message to you. Ac- 
cept of this, and we shall go no farther with you ; 
for we would not so much as aflright, or trouble you 
with the name of damnation, without necessity. 

But if you will not be saved, there is no remedy, 
but damnation must take place ; for there is no middle 
place between the two ; you must have either life or 
death. 

And we arc not only to offer you life, but to bIiow 
you the grounds on which we do it, and call you to 
belie.ve that God dotli mean, indeed, as bespeaks; 
that the promise is true, and extended conditionally 
to you, as well as others ; and that heaven is no fancy, 
but a true felicity. 

If you ask. Where is your commigsion for this offer? 
Among a hundred texts of Scripture, I will show it to 
you in these few : 

First, You see it here in my text, and tlie following 



Doct. 2. THE UNCONVERTED. 65 

verses, and in the 18th of Ezekiel, as plain as can be 
spuken ; and in 2 Cor. 5 : 17, 21, you have the very 
sum of our commission : " If any man be in Christ, he 
is a new creature : old things are passed away ; be- 
hold, all things are become new. And all things are 
of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus 
Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconci- 
hation ; to wit, that God was in Christ reconciling the 
world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses to 
them, and hath committed unto us the word of recon- 
ciliation. Now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, 
as though God did beseech you by us : we pray you 
in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled unto God. For he 
hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin ; that 
we might be made the righteousness of God in liim." 
So Mark, 16 : 15, 16, " Go ye into all the world, and 
preach the Gospel to every creature. He that be- 
lieveth," (that is with such a converting faith as is ex- 
pressed,) " and is baptized, shall be saved ; and he 
that believeth not, shall be damned." And Luke, 
24 : 46, 47 : " Thus it behoved Christ to suffer, and 
to rise from the dead the third day : and that repen- 
tance" (which is conversion) " and remission of sina 
should be preached in his name among all nations." 
And, Acts 5 : 30, 31, " The God of our fathers raised 
up Jesus, whom ye slew, and hanged on a tree : him 
hath God exalted with his right hand, to be a Prince 
and a Savior, to give repentance to Israel, and for- 
giveness of sins." And Acts, 13 : 38, 39, " Be it known 
unto you, therefore, men and brethren, that through 
this man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins ; 
and by him all that believe are justified from all 
things, from which ye could not be justified by the 
law of Moses." And lest you tliink this oflfer is re- 
6* 



66 A CALL TO Doct. 2. 

Strained to the Jew:, see Gal. 6 : 15, " For in Clirist 
Jesus, neither circumcision availeth any tiling, nor un- 
circumcision, but a new creature." And Luke, 14 : 17, 
" Come, for all things are now ready." 

You see by this time that we are commanded to 
offer life to you all, and to tell you from God, that it 
you will turn, you may live. 

Here you may safely trust your souls ; for the lovt 
of God is the foundation of this offer, (John, 3 : 16,) and 
tlie blood of the Son of God hath purchased it ; the 
faitlifulness and truth of God is engaged to make the 
promise good ; miracles ofl sealed the truth of it ; 
preachers are sent through the world to proclaim it ; 
and the Spirit doth open the heart to entertain it, and 
is itself the earnest of the full possession : so that the 
truth of it is past controversy, that the worst of you 
all, and every one of you, if you will but be converted, 
may be saved. 

Indeed, if you will believe that you shall be saved 
without conversion, then you believe a falsehood ; and 
if I should preach that to you, I should preach a lie. 
This were not to believe God, but the devil and your 
own deceitful hearts. God hath hia promise of life, 
and the devil hath his promise of life. God's promise 
is. Return and live. The devil's promise is, You shall 
live whether you turn or not. The words of God are, 
as I have showed you, " Except ye be converted and 
become as little children, ye cannot enter into tlie 
kingdom of heaven." Matt. 18 : 3. " Except a man 
be born again, he cannot enter into tlie kingdom ot 
God." John, 3 : 3, 5. " Without hohness no man shall 
see the Lord." Heb. 12 : 14. The devil's word is, 
" You may be saved without being born again and 
converted ; you may do well enough without being 



Doct. 9. THE UNCONVERTED. 67 

lioly, God doth bat frighten you ; he is more merciful 
than to do as he saith, he will be better to you than 
his word." And, alas, the greatest part of ie world 
believe this -word of the devil before the word of God; 
just as our sin and misery came into the world. God 
said to our first parents, " If ye eat ye shall die ;" and 
the devil contradicted him, and said, " Ye shall not 
•die :" and the woman believed the devil before God. 
So now the Lord saith. Turn or die : and the devil 
saith, You shall not die, if you do but cry for God's 
mercy at last, and give over the acts of sin when you 
can practise it no longer. And this is the word tiiat 
the world believes. O heinous wickedness, to believe 
the devil before God. 

And yet that is not the worst ; but blasphemously 
they call this a believing and trusting in God, when 
they put him in the shape of satan, who was a liar 
from the begirming ; and when they believe that the 
word of God is a lie, they call this a trusting God, and 
say they believe in him, and trust in him for salva- 
tion. Where did ever God say, that the unregenerate, 
unconverted, unsanctified, shall be saved ? Show me 
Buch a word in Scripture. Why this is the devil's 
word, and to believe it is to believe the devil, and the 
sin that is commonly called presumption ; and do you 
call this a believing and trusting in God '? There is 
enough in the word of God to comfort and strengthen 
the heart of the sanctified, but n»t a word to strengthen 
the hands of wickedness, nor to give men the least hope 
of being saved though they be never sanctified. 

But if you will turn, and come into the way of 
mercy, the mercy of the Lord is ready to entertain 
you. Then trust God for salvation, boldly and confi- 
dently ; for he is engaged by his word to save yott. 



68 A CALL TO Doct. 3. 

He will be a father to none but his children ; and he 
will save none but tliose that forsake the world, the 
devil, and tlie flesh, and come into his family to be 
members of his Son, and hdve communion with hia 
saints. But if they will not come in, it is the fault 
of themselves : his doors are open ; he keeps none back ; 
lie never sent such a message as this to any of you, 
" It is now too late ; I will not receive thee, though 
thou be converted." He might have done so and done 
you no wrong ; but he did not ; he doth not to this day. 
He is still ready to receive you, if you were but ready 
unfeignedly, and with all your hearts, to turn. And 
the fulness of this truth will yet more appear in the 
two following doctrines, which I shall therefore next 
proceed to before I make any further application of 
this. 



DOCTRINE III. 

God taketh pleasure in vi ell's conversion and sal- 
vation, but not in their death or damnation. He 
had rather they would turn and live, tJian go on 
and die. 

" The Lord is long suffering to us-ward," says the 
apostle, " not willing that any should perish, but that 
all Bhould come to repentance." 2 Pet. 3:9. He un- 
feignedly willeth the conversion of all men, even of 
those that never will be converted, but not as absolute 
Lord with the fullest efficacious resolution, nor as a 
thing which he resolveth shall undoubtedly come to 
pass, or would engage all his power to accomplish. It 
is in the power of a prince to set a guard upon a mur- 
derer, to see that he shall not murder, and be hanged ; 
but if, upon good reason, he forbear tliis, and do but 



Doct. 3. THE UNCONVERTED. G9 

send to his subjects to warn and entreat them not to 
be murderers, he may well say that he would not have 
them murder and be hanged ; he takes no pleasure in 
it, but rather that they forbear and live, and if he do 
more for some upon some special reason, he is not 
bound to do so by all. The king may well say to all 
murderers and felons in the land, " I have no pleasure 
in your death, but rather that you would obey my 
laws and live ; but if you will not, I am resolved, for 
all this, chat you shall die." The judge may truly 
say to the murderer, " Alas, I have no delight in thy 
death ; I had rather thou hadst kept the law and saved 
thy life ; but seeing thou hast not, I must condemn 
thee, or else I should be mijust." So, though God have 
no pleasure in your damnation, and therefore calls 
upon you to return and live, yet he hath pleasure in 
the demonstration of his own justice, and the execut- 
ing of his laws; and therefore he is, for all this, fully 
resolved, that if you will not be converted, you shall 
be condemned. If God was so much against the 
death of the wicked as that he were resolved to do 
all that he can to hinder it, then no man should be 
condemned ; whereas Christ telleth you, that " nar- 
row is the way that leadeth unto life, and few there 
be that find it." But so far God is opposed to your 
damnation as that he will teach you, and warn you, 
and set before you hfe and death, and offer you your 
choice, and command his ministers to entreat you not 
to destroy yourselves, but accept his mercy, and so to 
leave you without excuse. But if this will not dc, 
and if still you be unconverted, he professeth to you, 
he is resolved on your damnation, and hath com- 
manded us to say to you in his name, verse 8, " O 
wicked man thou shalt surely die !" And Christ hath 



7D A CALL TO Do€t. 3 

little less than sworn it, over and over, with a " verily, 
verily, except ye be converted ami born again, ye 
cannot enter into the kingdom (A' lieaven." Matt. 
18 : 3. John, 3 : 3. Mark, tliat he saith, " you can- 
not." It is in vain to hope for it, and in vain to dream 
tliat God is willing for it ; for it is a thing tliat can- 
not be. 

In a word, you see then the meaning of the text, 
that God, the great Lawgiver of the world, doth take 
no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that 
they turn and hve ; though yet he be resolved that 
none shall live but those tliat turn ; and as a judge, 
even delighteth in justice, and in manifesting his 
hatred of sin, though not in the misery which sinners 
have brought upon themselves, in itself considered. 

And for the proofs of the point, I shall be very 
brief in them, because I suppose you easily beheve it 
already. 

1. The very gracious nature of God proclaimed : 
" And the Lord passed by before him, and proclaim- 
ed, The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, 
long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, 
keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, and 
transgression, and sin, and that will by no means 
clear the guilty ;" (Exod. 34 : 6, 7 ;) and frequently 
elsewhere, may assure you of this. That he hath no 
pleasure in your death. 

2. If God had more pleasure in thy death, than in 
thy conversion and life, he would not have so fre- 
quently commanded thee in his word, to turn; he 
would not have made thee such promises of life, if 
thou wilt but turn : he would not have persuaded thee 
to it by so many reasons. The tenor of his Gospel 
proveth the point. 



Dact. 3. THE UNCONVERTED. 71 

3. And his commission that he hath given to the 
ministers of the Gospel doth fully prove it. If God 
had taken more pleasure in thy damnation, than in 
thy conversion and salvation, he would never have 
charged us to offer you mercy, and to teach you the 
way of life, both publicly and privately : and to en- 
treat and beseech you to turn and live ; to acquaint 
5''oii with your sins, and foretell you of your danger ; 
and to do all that possibly we can for your conversion, 
and to continue patiently so doing, though you should 
hate or abuse us for our pains. Would God have done 
this, and appointed his ordinances for your good, if he 
had taken pleasure in your death ? 

4. It is proved also by the course of his providence. 
If God had rather you were damned than converted 
and saved, he would not second his word with his 
works, and entice you by his daily kindness to himself^ 
and give you all the mercies of this life, which are 
means " to lead you to repentance," (Rom. 2 : 4,) and 
bring you so often under his rod, to lead you to your 
senses ; he would not set so many examples before 
your eyes, no, nor wait on you so patiently as he does 
from day to day, and year to year. These are not 
signs of one that taketh pleasure in your death. If 
this had been his delight, how easily could he have 
had thee long ago in hell ? How oft, before this, could 
he have catched thee away in the midst of thy sins 
witli a curse or oath, or lie in thy mouth, in thy igno- 
rance, and pride, and sensuality ? When thou wert 
last in thy drunkenness, or last deriding the ways of 
God, how easily could he liave stopped thy breath, 
and tamed thee Avith plagues, and made thee sober 
in another world ! Alas ! how small a matter is it for 
the Almighty to rule the tongue of the profanest railer, 



72 A CALL T\) Doct. S. 

and tie the hands of the most mahcious persecutor, or 
calm tlie fury of the bitterest of his enemies, and make 
tliem know that they are but worms ? If he should 
but frown upon thee thou wouldst drop into thy grave. 
If he gave commission to one of his angels to go and 
destroy ten thousand sinners, how quickly would it be 
done ! how easily can lie lay thee upon the bed of 
languishing, and make thee lie roaring there in pain, 
and make thee eat the words of reproach which thou 
hast spoken against his servants, his word, his wor- 
ship, and his holy ways, and make thee send to beg 
their prayers whom thou didst despise in thy presump- 
tion ? How easily can he lay that flesh under pains, 
and groans, and make it too weak to hold thy soul, 
and make it more loathsome than the dung of the 
earth ? That flesh which now must have what it 
loves, and must not be displeased^ though God be dis- 
pleased ; and must be humored in meat, and drink, 
and clothes, whatever God say to the contrary, how 
quickly would the frowns of God consume it ? When 
thou wast passionately defending thy sin, and quar- 
relling with them that would have drawn thee from 
it, and showing thy spleen against the reprover, and 
pleading for the works of darkness ; how easily could 
God have snatched thee away in a moment, and set 
thee before his dreadful Majesty, where thou shouldst 
Bee ten thousand times ten thousand glorious angels 
waiting on his throne, and have called thee there to 
plead thy cause, and asked thee " What hast thou 
now to say Eigainst thy Creator, his truth, his servants, 
or his holy ways ? Now plead thy cause, and make 
the best of it thou canst. Nov/ what canst thou say 
in excuse of thy sins ? Now give account of thy world- 
liness and fleshly life, ol" thy time, of all Uie mercies 



Doct. 3. THE UNCONVERTED. 73 

thou hast had." O how thy stubborn heart would 
have melted, and thy proud looks be taken down, and 
thy countenance be appalled, and thy stout words 
turned into speechless silence, or dreadful cries, if God 
had but set thee thus at his bar, and pleaded his own 
cause with thee, which thou hast here so maliciously 
pleaded against ! How easily can he at any time say 
to thy guilty soul, Come away, and live in that flesh 
no more till the resurrection, and it cannot resist ! A 
word of his mouth would take off the poise of thy pre- 
sent life, and then all thy parts and powers would 
stand still ; and if he say unto thee, Live no longer, or, 
live in hell, thou couldst not disobey. 

But God hath yet done none of this, but hath pa- 
tiently forborne thee, and mercifully upheld thee, and 
given thee that breath which thou didst breathe out 
against him, and given those mercies which thou 
didst sacrifice to thy flesh, and afibrded thee that pro- 
vision which thou didst use to satisfy thy greedy 
tliroat : he gave thee every minute of that time which 
thou didst waste in idleness, or drunkenness, or world- 
liness •, and doth not all his patience and mercy show 
that he desired not thy damnation 1 Can the candle 
burn without the oil ? Can your houses stand without 
the earth to bear them '? No more can you live an 
hour without the support of God. And why did he 
60 long support thy life, but to see when thou wouldst 
bethink thee of tlie folly of thy ways, and return and 
live ? Will any man purposely put arms into his ene- 
my's hands to resist liim, or hold a candle to a mur- 
derer that is Idlling his children, or to an idle servant 
that plays or sleeps the whde 1 Surely it is to see 
whether thou wilt at last return and live, that Gfod 
hath so long waited on thee. 
7 



74 A CALL TO Duel 3l 

5. It is further proved by the siiflering of his Son, 
thatGrod taketh no pleasure in the death of the wicked. 
"Would he have ransomed them from death at so dear 
a rate ? Would he have astonished angels and men 
by his condescension? "VV^ould God have dwelt in 
flesh, and have come in the form of a servant, and 
have assumed humanity into one person with the God- 
head ; and would Christ have lived a life of suffering, 
and died a cursed deaih for sinners, if he had rather 
taken pleasure in their death ? Suppose you saw him 
but so busy in preaching and heahng of them, as you 
find him in Mark, 3 : 21 ; or so long in fasting, as in 
Matt. 4 ; or all night in prayer, as in Luke 6 : 12 ; or 
praying with the drops of blood trickling from liim 
instead of sweat, as Luke 22 : 44 ; or suffering a cursed 
death upon the cross, and pouring out Ms soul as a sa- 
crifice for our sins — would you have thought these the 
signs of one that delighted in the death of the wicked 1 

And think net to extenuate it by saying, that it 
was only for his elect : for it was thy sin, and the sin 
of all the world, tliat lay upon our Redeemer ; and his 
sacrifice and satisfaction is sufiicient for all, and the 
fruits of it are offered to one as well as another. But it 
is true, that it was never the intent of his mind to par- 
don and save any that would not, by faith and repen- 
tance, be converted. If you had seen and heard him 
weeping and bemoaning the state of disobedience in 
impenitent people : (Luke, 19 : 41, 42,) " And when 
he was come near, he beheld the city, and wept over 
it, saying, if thou hadst known, even thou, at least m 
this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace ! 
but now they are hid from thine eyes" — or complain- 
ing of their stubbornness, as Matt. 23 : 37, " O Jeru- 
ealem, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered 



©oot. 4. THE UNCONVERTED. 75 

thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her 
chickens under her wings, and ye would not !" or 
if you had seen and heard him on the cross, praying 
for his persecutors — Father, forgive them, for they 
know not what they do — would 3.^ou have suspected 
that he had delighted in the death of the wicked, even 
of those that perish by their wilful unbelief ? When 
God hath BO loved, (not only loved, but so lOved,) as 
to give his only begotten Son, that whosoever believ- 
eth in him (by an efiectual faith) should not perish, 
but have everlasting life, I think he hath hereby 
proved, against the malice of men and devils, that he 
takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but had 
rather that they would " turn and live." 

6. Lastly, If all this will not yet satisfy you, take 
His own word that knoweth best his own mind, or at 
least believe his oath : but this leads me to the fourth 
doctrine. 



DOCTRINE IV. 

The Lord hath confirmed to us by his Oath, that he 

hath no pleasure in the death of the wicked, hut 

rather that he turn and live; that he may leave 

man no pretence to question the truth of it. 

If you dare question his word, I hope you dare not 

question his oath. As Christ hath solemnly protested 

that the unregenerate and unconverted cannot enter 

into the kingdom of heaven ; (Matt. 18:3; John, 

3 : 3 ;) so God hath sworn that his pleasure is not in 

their death, but in their conversion and life. And as 

the apostle saith, (Heb. 4 : 13, 18,) because he can 

swear by no greater, he sware by himself " For men 

verily swear by the greater : and an oath for confirma- 



76 A CALL TO Doc». ^ 

tion is to them an end of strife. Wherein God, will- 
ing more abundantly to show unto the heirs of pro- 
mise the immutability of his counsel, confirmed it by 
an oath ; that Iby two immutable things in which it 
was impossible for God to lie, we might have strong 
consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold on 
the hope set before us : which hope we have as an 
anchor of the soul both sure and steadfast." If there 
be any man that cannot reconcile this truth with the 
doctrine of predestination, or the actual damnation of 
the wicked, that is his own ignorance ; he hath no 
pretence left to question or deny therefore the truth of 
the point in hand ; for this is confirmed by the oath 
of God, and therefore must not be distorted, to reduce 
it to other points: but doubtful points must rather be 
reduced to it, and certain truths must be believed to 
agree with it, though our shallow minds hardly dis- 
cern the agreement. 

Use. — I do now entreat thee, if thou be an uncon- 
verted sinner that hearest these words, that thov- 
wouldst ponder a little upon the forementioned doc- 
trines, and bethink thyself awhile who it is that take? 
pleasure in thy sin and damnation. Certainly it i? 
not God ; he hath sworn for his part that he takes n(? 
pleasure in it. And I laiow it is not the pleasing oi 
him that you intend. You dare not say that you 
drink, and swear, and neglect holy duties, and quench 
the motions of the Spirit to please God. That were 
as if you should reproach the prince, and tweak hie 
laws, and seek his death, and say you did all this to 
please him. 

Who is it then that takes pleasure in your sin and 
death ? Not any that bear the image of God, for they 



Doct. 4. THE UNCONVERTED. 7? 

must be like minded to him. God knows, it is small 
pleasure to your faithful teachers to see you serve 
your deadly enemy, and madly venture your eternal 
state, and wilfully run into the flames of hell. It is 
small pleasure to them to see upon your souls (in the 
ead effects) such blindness, and hard-heartedness, and 
carelessness, and presumption ; such \vilfulness in evil, 
and such miteachableness and stiffness against the 
■ways of life and peace ; they know these are marks 
of death, and of the wratli of God, and they know, 
from the word of God, what is like to be the end of 
them, and therefore it is no more pleasure to them 
than to a tender physician to see the plague-marks 
broke out upon his patient. Alas, to foresee your ever- 
lasting torments, and know not how to prevent them ! 
To see how near you are to hell, and we cannot make 
you believe it and consider it. To see how easily, 
how certainly you might escape, if we knew but how 
to make you willing. How fair you are for everlast- 
ing salvation, if you would turn and do your best, and 
make it the care and business of your lives ! but you 
will not do it; if our hves lay on it, we cannot per- 
suade you to it. We study day and night what to 
eay to you that may convince and persuade you, and 
yet it is undone : we lay before you the word of God, 
and show you the very chapter and verse w^here it is 
written, that you cannot be saved except you be con- 
verted ; and yet we leave the most of you as we find 
you. We hope you will believe the word of God, 
tliough you believe not us, and regard it when we 
show 5^ou the plain Scripture for it ; but we hope in 
vain, and labor in vain as to any saving change upon 
your hearts ! And do you think that this is a pleasant 
thing *;o us? Many a time, in secret prayer, we are 
7* 



78 A CALL TO Doct. 4. 

fain to complain to Grod with sad hearts, " Alas, Lord, 
we have spoken to them in thy name, but they little 
regard us ; we have told them what thou bidst us tell 
them concerning the danger of an unconverted state, 
but they do not believe us : we have told them that 
ti'iou hast protested that there is no ])eace to the 
wicked ;" (Isa. 57 : 21 ;) " but the worst of them all 
will scarcely believe that they are wicked. We 
have showed them thy word, where thou hast said, 
that if they live after the flesh they shall die ;" (Rom. 
8 : 13,) " but they say, they will believe in thee, when 
they will not believe ihee ; and that they will trust in 
thee, when they give no credit to thy word ; and when 
tliey hope that the threatenings of thy word are false, 
they will yet call this a hoping in God ; and though 
we show them where thou hast said, that when a 
wicked man dieth, all his hopes perish, yet cannot we 
persuade them from their deceitful hopes." Prov. 
11 : 7. " We tell them what a base unprofitable 
thing sin is ; but they love it, and therefore will not 
leave it. We tell them how dear they buy this plea- 
sure, and what they must pay for it in everlasting 
torment ; and they bless themselves, and will not be- 
lieve it, but \vill do as the most do ; and because God 
is merciful, they will not believe him, but will ven- 
ture tlieir aouls, come what will. We tell them how 
ready the Lord is to receive them, and this doth but 
make them delay their repentance and be bolder in 
their sin. Some of them say they purpose to repent, 
but they are still the same ; and some say they do re- 
pent already, while yet they are not converted from 
tlieir sins. We exhort them, we entreat them, we 
offer them our help, but we cannot prevail with them ; 
but they that were drunkards, are drunkards still ; and 



Doct. 4. THE UNCONVERTED. 79 

they that were voluptuous flesh-pleasiiig \vretches, are 
such still ; and they that were worldlings, are world- 
lings still ; and they that were ignorant, and proud, 
and self-conceited, are so still. Few of them will see 
and confess their sin, and fewer will forsake it, but 
comfort themselves that all men are sinners, as if there 
were no difference between a converted sinner and an 
unconverted. Some of them will not come near us, 
when we are willing to instruct them, but think they 
Imow enough already, and need not our instruction ; 
and some of them will give us the hearing, and do 
what they Hst ; and most of them are like dead men 
that cannot feel ; so that when we tell them of the 
matters of everlasting consequence, we cannot get a 
word of it to their hearts. If we do not obey them, 
and humor them in doing all that they would have 
us, though never so much against the word of God, 
they will hate us, and rail at us ; but if we beseech 
them to confess, and forsake their sins, and save their 
BOuls, they will not do it. They would have us dis- 
obey God and damn our own souls, to please them ; 
and yet they will not turn and save their own souls 
to please God. They are wiser in their own ej^es than 
all their teachers ; they rage and are confident in their 
own way, and if we are ever so anxious we cannot 
change them. Lord, this is the case of our miserable 
neighbors, and we cannot help it ; we see them ready 
to drop into hell, and we cannot help it ; we know if 
they would unfeignedly turn, they might be saved, 
but we cannot persuade them ; if we would beg it of 
them on our knees, we cannot persuade tliem to it ; if 
we would beg it of them with tears, we cannot per- 
suade them ; and what more can we do ? 
These are the secret complaints and moans iliat 



80 A CALL TO Doct. 4. 

many a poor minister is compelled to make. And do 
you think that he hath any pleasure in this? Is it a 
pleasure to him to see you go on in sin, and cannot 
stop you? to see you so miserable, and cannot so 
much as make you sensible of it ? to see you merry 
when you are not sure to be an hour out of hell ? to 
think what you must for ever suffer, because you wil. 
not turn? and to think what an everlasting life of 
glory you wilfully despise and cast away? What 
sadder thing can you bring to their hearts, and how 
can you devise to grieve them more ? 

Who is it then that you please by your sin and 
death? It is none of your understanding godly friends. 
Alas, it is the grief of their souls to see your misery, 
and they lament you many a time Avhen you give 
them little thanks for it, and when you have not 
hearts to lament yourselves. 

Who is it then that takes pleasure in your sin ? 

1. The devil indeed takes pleasure in your sin and 
death ; for this is the very end of all his temptations ; 
for this he watches night and day ; you cannot devise 
to please him better than to go on in sin. How glad 
is he when he sees thee going into the alehouse, or 
otlier sin, and when he heareth thee curse, or swear, 
or rail ? How glad is he when he heareth thee revile 
the minister that would draw thee from thy sin, and 
help to save thee? These are his delight. 

2. The wicked are also delighted in it ; for it is 
agreeable to their nature. 

3. But I know, for all this, that it is not the pleas- 
ing of the devil that you intend, even when you please 
him ; but it is your own fle-sh, the greatest and most 
dangerous enemy, that you intend to please. It is the 
flesh that would be pampered, that would be pleased 



Doct. 4. THE UNCONVERTED. 81 

in meat, and drink, and clothing ; that would be pleased 
in your company, and pleased in applause and credit 
with tlie world, and pleased in sports, and lusts, and 
idleness ; this is the gulf that devoureth all. This is 
the very god that you serve, for the Scripture saith 
of such, that their bellies are their gods. Pliil. 3 : 19. 
But I beseech you stay a little and consider the bu- 



1. Question. Should your flesh be pleased before 
your maker ? Will you displease the Lord, and dis- 
please your teacher, and your godly friends, and all 
to please your brutish appetites, or sensual desires ? 
Is not God worthy to be the ruler of your flesh ? If he 
ehall not rule it, he will not save it ; you cannot in 
reason expect that he should. 

2. Question. Your flesh is pleased with your sin , 
but is your conscience pleased '? Doth not it grudge 
within you, and tell you sometimes that all is not well, 
and that your case is not so safe as you make it to be ; 
and should not your souls and consciences be pleased 
before your corruptible flesh? 

3. Question. But is not your flesh preparing for its 
own displeasure also ? It loves the bait, but doth it 
love the hook ? It loves the strong drink and sweet 
morsels ; it loves its ease, and sports, and merriment ; 
it loves to be rich, and well spoken of by men, and to 
be somebody in the world ; but doth it love the curse 
of God 7 Doth it love to stand trembling before his 
bar, and to be judged to everlasting fire? Doth it 
love to be tormented with the devils for ever ? Take 
all together ; for there is no separating sin and hell, 
but only by faith and true conversion ; if you will keep 
one, you must have the other. If death and hell be 
pleasant to thee, no wonder then if you go on in sin ! 



62 A CALL TO Doct. 5. 

but if they be not, (as I am sure they are not,) then 
what if sin were never so pleasant, is it worth the loss 
of life eternal ? Is a little drink, or meat, or ease; is 
the good word of sinners, is the riches of this world to 
be valued above the joys of heaven ? Or are they 
wortli the sulferings of eternal fii-e? Sirs, these ques- 
tions should be considered before you go any further, 
by every man that hath reason to consider, and tliat 
believes he hath a soul to save or lose. 

Well, the Lord here swearelh that he hath no plea- 
sure in your death, but rather that you would turn 
and live ; if yet you wdl go on and die rather than 
turn, remember it was not to please Grod that you did 
it : it was to please the world, and to please your- 
selves. And if men will damn themselves to please 
themselves, and run into endless torments for delight, 
and have not the wit, the hearts, the grace, to hearken 
to God or man that would reclaim them, what remedy 
is there, but they must take what they get by it, and 
repent it in another manner, when it is too late ? Be- 
fore I proceed any further in the application I shall 
come to the next doctrine, which gives me a fuller 
ground for it. 

DOCTRINE V. 

•Sb earnest is God for the conversion of sinners that 
he doubleth his commands and exhortations^ with 
Tehemency — Turn ye, turn ye, why loill you die 7 

This doctrine is the application of the former, aa 
by a use of exhortation, and accordingly I shall han- 
dle it. Is there an unconverted sinner that heareth 
these vehement words of God ? Is there a man or 
woman in this assembly that is yet a stranger to the 



Doct. 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 83 

reneAving sanctiiying work of the Holy Ghost ? It is 
a happy . assembly, if it be not so with the most. 
Hearken then to the voice of your Maker, and turn to 
Jiim by Christ without delay. Would you know the 
will of God 7 Why this is his will, that you presently 
turn. Shall the living God send so earnest a message 
to his creatures, and should they not obey 7 

Hearken then, all you that live after the flesh ; the 
Lord that gave thee thy breath and being hath sent 
a message to thee from heaven ; and this is his mes- 
sage. Turn ye^ turn ye, why wiU ye die? He that 
hath ears to hear, let him hear. Shall the voice of 
the eternal Majesty be neglected? If he do but ter- 
ribly thunder, thou art afraid. O but this voice doth 
more nearly concern thee. If he did but tell thee thou 
shalt die to-morrow, thou wouldst not make light of 
it. O but this w^ord concerneth thy life or death ever- 
lasting. It is both a command and an exhortation. 
As if he had said to thee, " I charge thee, upon the 
allegiance that thou owest to me thy Creator and 
Redeemer, that thou renounce the flesh, the world, 
and the devil, and turn to me, that thou mayest live. 
I condescend to entreat thee, as thou either lovest or 
fearest him that made thee ; as thou lovest thine own 
life, even thine everlasting life, turn and live : as ever 
thou w^ouldst escape eternal misery, turn, turn, for 
why wilt thou die ?" And is there a heart in man, 
in a reasonable creature, that can once refuse such a 
message, such a conmiand, such an exhortation as 
this? O what a thing, then, is the heart of man ! 

Hearken, then, all that love yourselves, and all that 
regard your own salvation ; here is the most joyfu! 
message that was ever sent to the ears of man, 
" Tur7i ?/e, turn ye, why will ye die?-' You are not 



84 A CALL TO Doct. 3. 

yet. shut up under desperation. Here is mercy offered 
you ; turn, and you shall have it. O Sirs ! with what 
glad and joyful hearts should you receive these tid- 
ings ! I know this is not the first time that you have 
heard it; but how have you regarded it, or how do 
you regard it now? Hear, all you ignorant, careless 
sinners, the word of the Lord. Hear, all you world- 
lings, you sensual flesh-pleasers; you gluttons, and 
drunkards, and whoremongers, and swearers; you 
railers and backbiters, slanderers and liars — Turn ye, 
turn 2/e, lohy will ye die ? 

Hear, all you cold and outside professors, and all 
that are strangers to the life of Christ, and never knew 
the power of his cross and resurrection, and never felt 
your hearts warmed with his love, and live not on 
him as the strength of your souls — " Turn ye, turn ye, 
why will ye die?" 

Hear, all that are void of the love of God, whose 
hearts are not toward him, nor taken up with the 
hopes of glory, but set more by your earthly prospe- 
rity and delights than by the joys of heaven ; all you 
that are religious but a little-by-the-by, and give God 
no more than your flesh can spare; that have not de- 
nied your carnal selves, and forsaken all that you have 
for Christ, m the estimation and grounded resolution 
of your souls, but have some one thing in the world 
so dear to you that you cannot spare it for Christ, if 
he required it, but will rather venture on his displea- 
sure than forsake it — " Turn ye, turn ye, why will 
ye die?" 

If you never heard it, or observed it before, remem- 
ber that you were told from the word of God this day, 
that if you will but turn, you may live; and if you 
will no* turn, yo'J shall surely die. 



Doct. 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 85 

What now will you do, sirs '? What is your reso- 
lution? Will you turn, or will you not? Halt not 
any longer between two opinions. If the Lord bo 
God, foUoAV him : if your flesh be God, then serve it 
still. If heaven be better than earth and fleshly plea- 
sures, come away, then, and seek a better country, 
and lay up your treasure where rust and moths do 
not corrupt, and thieves cannot break through and 
steal ; and be awakened at last, with all your might, 
to seek the kingdom that cannot be moved, (Heb. 
12 : 28,) and to employ your lives on a higher design, 
and turn the stream of your cares and labors another 
way than formerly you have done. But if earth be 
better than heaven, or will do more for you, or last 
you longer, then keep it, and make your best of it, and 
follow it still. Sirs, are you resolved what to do ? If 
you be not, I will set a few more moving considera- 
tions before you, to see if reason will make you resolve. 

Consider, I. What preparations mercy hath made 
for your salvation ; and what pity it is that any man 
should be damned after all this. The time was, when 
the flaming sword was in the way, and the curse of 
God's law would have kept thee back if thou hadst 
been never so v/illing to turn to God. The time was, 
when thyself, and all the friends that thou hast in the 
world, could never have produced thee the pardon of 
thy sins past, though thou hadst never so much la- 
mented and reformed them. But Christ hath removed 
^his impediment, by the raasom of his blood. The 
time was, that God was wholly unreconciled, as be- 
ing not satisfied for the violation of his law ; but now 
he is so far satisfied and reconciled, as that he hath 
made thee a free act of oblivion, and a free deed of 
gift of Christ and life, and ofiereth it to thee, and en- 



86 A CALL TO Do'^'- ^• 

treateth thee to accept it ; and it may be tliiiie, if thou 
wilt. For, " he was in Christ reconciUng the world 
to himself, and hath committed to us the word of re- 
conciliation." 2 Cor. 5 : 18, ID. Sinners, we too are 
commanded to deliver this message to you all, as from 
the Lord; " Come, for all things are ready." Luke, 
14 : 17. Are all things ready, and are you unready 1 
God is ready to entertain you. and pardon all that 
you have done against him, if you will but come. As 
long as you have sinned, as wilfully as you have sin- 
ned, he is ready to cast all behind his back, if you 
will but come. Though you have been prodigals, 
and run away from God, and have staid so long, lie 
is ready even to meet you, and embrace you in his 
arms, and rejoice in your conversion, if you will but 
turn. Even the worldlings and drunkards will find 
God ready to bid them welcome, if they will but come. 
Dotli not this turn thy heart within thee ? O sinner! 
if thou hast a heart of flesh, and not of stone in thee, 
methinks this should melt it. Shall the dreadful in- 
finite Majesty of heaven even wait for thy returning, 
and be ready to receive thee, who hast abused him, 
and forgotten him so long ? Shall he delight in thy 
conversion, that might at any time glorify his justice 
:n thy damnation ? and yet doth it not melt thy jieart 
within thee, and art tliou not yet ready to come in ? 
Hast thou not as much reason to be ready to come as 
God hath to invite thee and bid thee welcome ? 

But that is not all : Christ hath died on the cross, 
and made such way for thee to the Father, that, on 
his account, thou mayest be welcome, if thou wilt 
come. i\.nd yet art thou not ready ? 

A pardon is already expressly granted, and offered 
thee in the Gospel. And yet art thou not ready? 



Doct. 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 87 

The ministers of the Gospel are ready to assist thee, 
to instruct thee, pray for thee. And yet art thou not 
ready ? 

All that fear God about thee are ready to rejoice 
in thy conversion, and to receive thee into the com 
munion of saints, and to give thee the right hand of 
fellowship, yea, though thou hadst been one that had 
been cast out of their society : they dare not but forgive 
where God forgiveth, when it is manifest to them, by 
thy confession and amendment ; they dare not so much 
as reproach thee with thy former sins, because they 
know that God will not upbraid tliee with them. If 
thou hadst been never so scandalous, if thou wouldst 
but heartily be converted and come in, they would 
not refuse thee, let the world say what they would 
against it. And are all these ready to receive thee, 
and yet art thou not ready to come in 7 

Yea, heaven itself is ready : The Lord will receive 
thee into the glory of his saints. Vile as thou hast 
been, if thou wilt be but cleansed thou mayest have 
a place before his throne ; his angels will be ready to 
guard thy soul to the place of joy if thou do but un- 
feignedly come in. And is God ready, the sacrifice 
of Christ ready, the promise ready, and pardon ready ? 
are ministers ready, and the people of God ready, and 
heaven itself ready ? and angels ready ? and all these 
but waiting for thy conversion ; and yet art thou not 
ready ? What ! not ready to live, when thou hast 
been dead so long ? not ready to come to thy right 
understanding, as the prodigal is said to " come to 
himself," (Luke, 15 : 17,) when thou hast been beside 
thyself so long? Not ready to be saved, when thou 
art even ready to be condemned ? Art thou not ready 
to lay hold on Christ, that would deliver thee, when 



88 A CALL TO Doct. 5 

thou art even ready to sink into damnation ? Art tlrou 
not ready to be drawn from liell, when thou art even 
ready to be cast remediless inio it ? Alas, man ! dost 
thou know what thou doest ? If thou die unconverted 
there is no doubt to be made of thy damnation ; and 
thou art not i?ure to live an hour. And yet art thou 
not ready to turn and to come in? O miserable 
wretch ! Hast thou not served the flesh and the devil 
long enough? Yet hast thou not enough of sin? Is 
it so good to thee, or so profitable for thee ? Dost thou 
know what it is, that thou wouldst yet have more of 
it ? Hast thou had so many calls, and so many mer- 
cies, and so many warnings, and so many examples ? 
Hast thou seen so many laid in the grave, and yet 
art tJiou not ready to let go thy sins, and come to 
Christ ? What ! after so many convictions and pangs 
of conscience, after so many purposes and promises, 
art thou not yet ready to turn and live ? O that thy 
eyes, thy heart, were opened to know how fair an offer 
is now made to thee ! and what a joyful message it is 
that we are sent on, to bid thee come, for all things 
are ready ! 

II. Consider also, what calls thou hast to turn and 
live. How many, how loud, how earnest, how dread- 
ful : and yet what encouraging, joyful calls ! For the 
principal inviter is God himself. He that command- 
eth heaven and earth, commands thee to turn, and 
that presently, without delay. He commands the 
sun to run its course, and to rise upon thee every 
morning ; and though it be so glorious an orb, and 
many times bigger than all the earth, yet it obeyetb 
him, and faileth not one minute of its appointed time. 
He commandeth all the planets, and the orbs of hea- 
ven, and they obe}'. He commajideth the sea to ebb 



Doct 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 89 

and flow, and the whole creation to keep its course, 
and all obey him ; the angels of heaven obey his will, 
when he sends them to minister to such worms as we 
on earth, (Heb. 1 : 14;) and yet if he command but 
a simier to turn, he will not obey him. He only thinlcs 
himself wiser than God, and he cavils and pleads the 
cause of sin, and will not obey. If the Lord Almighty 
say the word, the heavens and all therein obey him: 
but if he call but a drunkard out of an ale-house, he 
will not obey : or if he call a worldly fleshly sinner to 
deny himself, and mortify the flesh, and set his heart 
upon a better inheritance, he will not obey. 

If thou hadst any love in thee, thou wouldst know 
tlie voice, and say, O this is my Father's call ! how 
can I find in my heart to disobey ? For the sheep of 
Christ " know and hear his voice, and they follow 
him, and he giveth them eternal life." John, 10 : 4. 
If thou hadst any spiritual life and sense in thee, at 
least thou wouldst say, " This call is the dreadfiil 
voice of God, and who dare disobey? For saith the 
prophet, (Amos, 3 : 8,) " The lion hath roared, who 
will not fear ?" God is not a man, that thou shouldst 
dally and trifle with him. Remember what he said 
to Paul at his conversion, " It is hard for thee to 
kick agahist the pricks. ^^ Acts, 9 : 5. Wilt thou yet 
go on and despise his word, and resist his Spirit, and 
stop thine ear against his call 7 who is it that will 
have the worst of this ? Dost thou know whom thou 
disobeyest, and contendest with, and what thou art 
doing ? It were a far wiser and easier task for thee to 
contend with the thorns, and spurn them with thy 
bare feet, and beat them with thy bare hands, or put 
thine head into the burning fire. " Be not deceived, 
God will not be mocked." Gal. 6 : 7. Whoever else 



90 A CALL TO Doct. 5 

be mocked, Goil will not : you had belter play with 
the fire in your liiatch, than with the fire of his burn- 
ing wrath. " For our God is a consuming fire." Heb. 
12 : 29. O how unmeet a match art thou for God ! 
" It is a fearful thing to fall into his hands." Heb. 
10 : 31. And therefore it is a fearful thing to contend 
with him, or resist him. As you love your own souls, 
take heed what you do : what will you say if he begin 
in wrath to plead with you ? What will you do if he 
take you once in hand? will you then strive against 
liis judgment, as now ye do against his grace ? Isa. 
27 : 4, 5. " Fury is not in me ;" saitli the Lord : (that 
is) I delight not to destroy you : I do it, as it were un- 
willingly ; but yet " who will set the briers and thorns 
against me in battle? I would go through them, I 
would, burn them togethe?\ Or let him take hold of 
my strength, that he may make peace with me." It is 
an unequal combat for the briers and stubble to make 
war with the fire. 

And thus you see who it is that calleth you, that 
would move you to hear his call, and turn : so con 
sider also by what instruments, and how often, and 
how earnestly he doth it. 

1. Every leaf of the blessed book of God hath, as it 
were, a voice, and calls out to thee. Turn, and live ; 
turn, or thou wilt die. How canst thou open it, and 
read a leaf, or hear a chapter, and not perceive God 
bids thee turn ? 

2. It is the voice of every sermon that thou heareat : 
for what else is the scope and drift of all, but to call, 
and persuade, and entreat thee to turn. 

3. It is the voice of many a motion of the Spirit that 
secretly speaks over these words again, and urgeth 
thee to turn. 



Doct. 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 91 

4. It is likely, sometimes it is the voice of thy ovvrn 
conscience. Art thou not sometimes convinced that 
all is not well with thee? And doth not thy con- 
science tell thee that thou must be a new man, and 
take a new course, and often call upon thee to return ? 

5. It is the voice of the gracious examples of the 
godly. When thou seest them live a heavenly life, 
and fly from the sin which is thy delight, this really 
calls on thee to tum. 

6. It is the voice of all the works of God : for they 
also are God's books that teach thee this lesson, by 
showing thee his greatness, and wisdom, and good- 
ness ; and calling thee to observe them, and admire 
the Creator. Psalm 19 : 1, 2. " The heavens declare 
the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his 
liandy work : day unto day uttereth speech, night 
\mto night showeth knowledge." Ever}' time the sun 
fiseth unto thee, it really calleth thee to turn, as if it 
should say, " What do I travel and compass the world 
for, but to declare to men the glory of their Maker, 
and to light them to do his work ? And do I still find 
thee doing the work of sin, and sleeping out thy life 
in negligence? Awake thou that sleepest, and arise 
from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light." 
Ephes. 5 : 14. " The night is far spent, the day is 
at hand ; it is now high time to awake out of sleep. 
Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let 
us put on the armor of light. Let us walk honestly 
as in the day, not in rioting and drunkenness, not in 
chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envy- 
ing, but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make 
not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof." 
Rom. 13 : 11, 14. This text was the means of Aus- 
tin's conversion. 



92 A CALL TO Doct- 3- 

7. It is the voice of every mercy thou dost possess ; 
if thou couitlst but hear and understand them, they 
all cry out unto thee, Turn. Why doth ihe earth 
bear tliee, but to seek and serve the Lord ? Why 
doth it afford thee its fruits, but to serve him ? W^hy 
doth the air afford thee breath, but to serve him? 
Why do all the creatures serve thee with their labors 
and their hves, but that thou mightest serve the Lord 
of them and thee ? Why doth he give thee time, 
and health, and strength, but only to serve him? 
Why hast thou meat, and drink, and clothes, but for 
his service ? Hast thou any thing which thou hast 
not received ? and if thou didst receive them, it is rea- 
son thou shouldst bethink thee from whom, and to 
what end and use thou didst receive them. Didst 
thou never cry to him for help in thy distress, and 
didst thou not then understand that it was thy part to 
turn and serve him, if he would deliver thee ? He 
hath done his part, and spared thee yet longer, and 
, tried thee another, and another year ; and yet dost 
thou not turn ? You know the parable of the unfruit- 
ful fig-tree, Luke, 13 : 7, 9. When the Lord had 
said, " Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground ?" 
he was entreated to try it one year longer, and then 
if it proved not fruitful, to cut it down. Christ himself 
there makes the application twice over, (ver. 3 and 
5.) " Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." 
How many years hath Grod looked for the fruits of 
love and holiness from thee, and hath found none, and 
yet he hath spared thee ? How many a time, by thy 
wilful ignorance, and carelessness, and disobedience, 
hast thou provoked justice to say, " Cut him down, 
why cumbereth he the ground?" And yet mercy 
hath prevailed, and patience hath forborne the fatal 



Doct. 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 93 

blow, to this day. If thou hadst the understanding 
of a man within thee, thou Avouldst know that all this 
calleth thee to turn. " Dost thou think thou shall 
etill escape the judgment of God? or despisest thou 
the riches of his goodness, and forbearance, and long- 
suffering? not knowing that the goodness of God 
leadeth thee to repentance. But. after thy hardness 
and impenitent heart, treasured up unto thyself wrath 
against the day of wrath, and revelation of the righte- 
ous judgment of God, who w411 render to every man 
according to his deeds." Rom. 2 : 3, 6. 

8. Moreover, it is the voice of every affliction to call 
thee to make haste and turn. Sickness and pain cry, 
Turn : and poverty, and loss of friends, and every 
twig of the chastening rod, cry. Turn. And yet wilt 
thou not hearken to the call ? These have come near 
thee, and made thee feel; they have made thee 
groan, and can they not make thee turn ? 

9. The very frame of thy nature and being itself, 
bespeaketh thy return. Why hast thou reason, but to 
rule thy flesh, and serve thy Lord ? Why hast thou 
an understanding soul, but to learn and know his will 
and do it ? Why hast thou a heart within thee that 
can love, and fear, and desire, but that thou shouldst 
fear him, and love him, and desire after him? 

Lay all these together now, and see what should 
be the issue. The holy Scriptures call upon thee to 
turn ; the ministers of Christ call upon thee to turn ; 
the Spirit cries, Turn; thy conscience cries. Turn; 
the godly, by persuasions and example cry. Turn ; 
the whole world, and all the creatures therein that 
are presented to thy consideration cry, Turn ; the pa- 
tient forbearance of God cries, Turn ; all the mercies 
which thou receivest cry, Turn ; the rod of God's 



94 A CALL TO Doct. 5. 

chaslisement cries Turn; thy reason and tlie frame of 
thy nature bespeaks thy turning ; and so do all thy 
promises to God ; and yet art thou not resolved to 
turn 7 

111. Moreover, poor hard-hearted sinner, didst thou 
ever consider upon what terms tliou standest all thia 
while with Him that calleth on thee to turn? Thou 
art his own, and owest him thyself, and all thou hast , 
and may he not command his OAvn? Thou art hia 
absolute servant, and shouldst serve no other master. 
Thou standest at his mercy, and thy life is in hia 
hand, and he is resolved to save thee ujwn no other 
terms; thou hast many malicious spiritual enemies 
that would be glad if God Avould but foreake thee, 
and let them alone with thee, and leave thee to their 
will ; how quickly would they deal with thee in an- 
other manner ! and thou canst not be delivered from 
them but by turning unto God. Thou art fallen un- 
der his wrath by thy sin already ; and thou knowest 
not how long his patience will yet wait. Perhaps this 
is the last year, perhaps the last day. His sword is 
even at thy heart while the word is in thine ear; 
and if thou turn not, thou art a dead and undone 
man. Were thy eyes but open to see where thou 
standest, even upon the brink of hell, and to see how 
many thousands are there already that did not turn, 
thou wouldst see that it is time to look about thee. 

Well, sirs, look inwards now and tell me how your 
hearts are affected with those offers of the Lord. You 
hear what is his mind : he delighteth not in your 
death ; he calls to you, Turn, turn : it is a fearful sign 
if all this move thee not, or if it do but half move thee ; 
and much more if it make thee more careless in thy 
miser}^, because thou hearest of the mercifulness of 



Doct. 5. THE CXCONVKRTED. 95 

God. The working of the medicine will partly teli 
us whether there be any hope of the cure. O what 
glad tidings would it be to those that are now in hell, 
if they had but such a message from God ! What a 
io}'ful word would it be to hear this, Turn and live ! 
Yea, what a welcome word would it be to thyself, 
vrhen thou hast felt that wrath of God but an hour ! 
Or, if after a thousand or ten thousand years' torment, 
thou couldst but hear such a word from God, Turn 
and live; and yet wilt thou neglect it, and suffer ua 
to return without our errand ? 

Behold, sinners, we are sent here as the messengers 
cf the Lord, to set before you life and death. What 
say you ? wliich of them will you choose ? Christ 
standeth, as it were, by thee, with heaven in the one 
hand, and hell in the other, and offereth thee thy 
choice. Which wilt thou choose ? The voice of the 
Lord maketh the roclvs to tremble. Psalm 29. And is 
it nothing to hear liim threaten thee, if thou wilt not 
turn ? Dost thou not understand and feel this voice, 
" Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die V Why ? It is 
the voice of love, of infinite love, of thy best and kindest 
friend, as thou mightest easily perceive by the motion ; 
and yet canst thou neglect it '? It is the voice of pity 
and compassion. The Lord seeth whither thou art 
going better than thou dost, which makes him call 
atler thee. Turn, turn. He seeth what will become 
of thee, if thou turn not. He thinketh with himself, 
" Ah ! tliis poor siimer will cast himself into endless 
torments if he do not turn. I must in justice deal with 
him according to my righteous law."' And therefore 
he calleth after thee, Tarn, turn. O sinner ! If thou 
didst but know the thousandth part, as well as God 
dothj the danger that is near you, and the misery 



08 A CALL TO Doct. B. 

that you are running into, we .should have no more 
necil to call after you to turn. 

Moreover, this voice that calleth to thee is the same 
that hath prevailed with thousands already, and called 
all to heaven that are now there ; and they would not 
now for a thousand worlds that they had made light 
of it, and not turned to God. Now, what are they 
possessing that turned at God's call '? Now they per- 
ceive that it was indeed the \T)ice of love, that meant 
them no more harm than their salvation ; and if thou 
wilt obey the same call thou shalt come to the same 
happiness. There are millions that must for ever la- 
ment that they turned not ; but there is never a soul 
in heaven that is sorry that they were converted. 

Well, sirs, are you yet resolved, or are you not '? 
Do I need to say any more to you ? What will you 
do? Will you turn or not ? Speak, man, in thy heart, 
to God, though you speak not out to me ; speak, lest 
he take thy silence for denial; speak quickly, lest he 
never make thee the like ofier more ; speak resolvedly, 
and not waveringly, for he will have no indifferent.s 
to be his followers. Say in thine heart now, without 
any more delay, even before thou stir hence, " By the 
grace of God I am resolved presently to turn. And 
because I know my own insufficiency, I am resolved 
to wait on God for his grace, and to follow him in his 
ways, and forsake my former courses and companions 
and give up myself to the guidance of the Lord." 

Sirs, you are not shut up in the darkness of hea- 
thenism, nor in the desperation of the damned. Life 
is before you, and you may have it on rea.-onable 
terms, if you will ; yea, on free cost, if you will accept 
it. The way of God lieth plain before you ; the church 
is open to you. Yon may have Christ, and pardon, 



Doct. 6. TH^- TT^'CONVERTED. 97 

and holinessj if you will. What say you ? Will you 
or will you not '? If you say nay, or say nothing, and 
still go on, God is witness, and this congregation id 
witness, ana your own consciences are witnesses, how 
fair an offer you had this day. Remember, you might 
have had Christ, and would not. Remember, when 
you have lost it, that you might have had eternal life, 
as well as others, and would not ; and all because you 
would not turn ! 

But let us come to the next doctrine, and hear your 
-easons. 



DOCTRINE VI. 

The Lord condescendeih to reason the case with 
unconverted sinners, and to ask them why they 
will die. 

A strange disputation it is, both as to the contro- 
versy and as to the disputants. 

I. The controversy, gr question propounded to dis- 
pute of is, Why wicked men will destroy themselves'? 
or. Why they Avill rather die than turn; whether 
they have any sufficient reason for so doing ? 

II. The disputants are God and man : the most 
hoi}'' God, and wicked unconverted sinners. 

Is it not a strange thing, which God doth here seem 
t? suppose, that any man should be willing to die and 
be i-amned? yea, that this should be the case of the 
wicked ? that is, of the greatest part of the world. But 
you will say, " This cannot be ; lor nature desiretii 
the preservation and felicity of itself; and the wicked 
are more selfish than others, and not less; and there- 
fore how can any man be willing to be damned ?" 

To which I answer :— 1. It is a certain truth that 
9 



08 A CALL TO Doct. 6 

no man can be willing to bear any evil, aa evil, but 
only as it hath some appearance of good ; much leas 
can any man be willing to be eternally tormented. 
Misery, as such, is desired by none. 2. But yet for 
all that, it is most true which God here teacheth us, 
that the cause Avhy the wicked die is, because tliey 
will die. And this is true in several respects. 

1. Because they will go the w?y that leads to hell, 
although they are told by God and man whither it 
goes and whither it ends ; and though God hath so 
often professed in his word, that if they hold on in 
that way they shall be condenmed ; and that they 
shall not be saved unless they turn. Isa. 48 : 22 ; 57 : 
21 ; 59 : 8, " There is no peace, saith the Lord, to the 
wicked." " The way of peace they know not ; tliere 
is no judgm.ent in their goings ; they have made them 
crooked paths. Whosoever goeth therein shall not 
know peace." They liave the word and the oath of 
the living God for it, that if they will not turn they 
shall not enter into his rest : and yet, wicked they are, 
and wicked they will be, let God and man say what 
they w^ill : fleshly they are, and fleshly they will be, 
worldlings they are, and w^orldlings they will be, 
though God hath told them that the love of the world 
is enmity to God, and that if any man love the world 
(in that measure) the love of the Father is not in him. 
James, 4:4; 1 John, 2 : 15. So that, consequently, 
these men are willing to be damned, though not di- 
rectly ; tliey are willing to Avalk in the way to hell, 
and love the certain cause of their torment ; though 
they do not will hell itself, and do not love the pain 
which they m\]st endure. 

Is not this the tmth of your case sirs ? You would 
not burn in hell, but you Avill kindle the fire by your 



Doct. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 99 

sins, and cast yourselves into it ; you would not be 
tormented with devils for ever, but you will do that 
Avhich will certainly procure it in spite of all that can 
be said against it. It is just as if you would say, " I 
will drink this poison, but yet I will not die. I will 
cast myself headlong from the top of a steeple, but yet 
1 will not kill myself I will thrust this knife into my 
heart, but yet I will not take away my life. I will put 
this fire into the thatch of my house, but yet I will not 
burn it." Just so it is with wicked men ; they will be 
wicked, and they will live after the flesh and the 
world, and yet they would not be damned. But do 
you not know that the means lead to the end ? and 
that God hath, by his righteous law, concluded that 
ye must repent or perish ? He that will take poison 
may as well say plainly, I will kill myself, for it will 
prove no better in the end ; though perhaps he loved 
it for the sweetness of the sugar that was mixed with 
it, and would not be persuaded that it was poison, 
but that he might take it and do well enough ; but it 
is not his conceits and confidence that Avill save his 
life. So if you will be drunkards, or fornicators, or 
worldlmgs, or live after the flesh, you may as well 
say plainly. We will be damned ; for so you will be 
unless you turn. Would you not rebuke the folly of a 
murderer that would say I will kill, but I will not be 
hanged, when he knows that if he does the one, the 
judge in justice will see that the other be done ? If he 
say I will murder, he may as well say plainly, I will 
be hanged ; and if you will go on in a carnal life, you 
may as well say plainly. We will go to hell. 

2. Moreover, the wicked will not use those means 
without which there is no hope of their salvation. He 
that will not eat, may as well say plainly, he will 



100 A CALL TO Ooct. 6. 

not live, unless he can tell how to live without meat. 
He that v.'ill not go his journey, may as well say 
plainly he will not come to the end. He that faJL? into 
the v\'ater, and will not come out, nor suffer anotlicr 
to help him out, may as well say plainly, he will be 
drowned. So if you be carnal and ungodly, and will 
not be converted, nor use the means by which you 
ehould be converted, but think it more ado than needs, 
3'ou may as well say plainly you Vv'ill be damned ; for 
if you have found out a way to be saved v^^ithout con- 
version, you have done that which was never done 
before. 

3. Yea, this is not all ; but the wicked are unwilling 
even to partake of salvation itself; though they may 
desire somewhat which they call by the name of hea- 
ven, yet heaven itself, considered in the true nature 
of the felicity, they desire not; yea, their hearts are 
quite against it. Heaven is a state of perfect holiness, 
and of continual love and praise to God, and the 
wicked have no heart to this. The imperfect love, 
and praise, and holiness, which is here to be attained, 
they have no mind for ; much less for that which is 
RO much greater. The joys of heaven are of so pure 
and spiritual a nature that the heart of the wicked 
cannot truly desire them. 

So that by this time you may see on what ground 
it is that God eupposeth that the wicked are willing 
their own destruction. They will not turn, though 
they must turn or die : they will rather venture on 
certain misery than be converted ; and then to quiet 
themselves in their sins, they will make themselves 
believe that they shall nevertheless escape. 

II. And as this controversy is matter of wonder, in 
tliat men should be such enemies to themselves as 



Doct. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 101 

wilfully to cast away their souls, so are the disputants 
too : that God should stoop so low as thus to plead the 
case with men ; and that men should be so strangely 
blind and obstinate as to need all this in so plain a 
case ; yea, and to resist all this, when their own sal- 
vation lieth upon the issue. 

No wonder that they will not hear us that are men 
when they will not hear the Lord himself. As God 
saith, (Ezek. 3 : 7,) when he sent the prophet to the 
Israelites, " The house of Israel will not hearken 
unto thee ; for they will not hearken unto me ; for all 
the house of Israel are impudent and hard-hearted." 
No wonder if they can plead against a minister, or a 
godly neighbor, Avhen they will plead against the 
Lord himself, even against the plainest passages of 
liis word, and think that they have reason on their 
Bide. When they weary the Lord with their words, 
they say, "Wherein have we wearied him?" Mai. 
2 : 17. The priests that despised his name durst ask, 
" Wherein have we despised thy name?" And 
" v/hen they polluted his altar, and made the table 
of the Lord contemptible," they durst say, " Wherein 
have we polluted thee ?" Mai. 1 : 6, 7. But " Wo 
unto him (saith the Lord) that striveth with his Ma- 
ker ! Let the potsherds strive with the potsherds oi 
the earth : shall the clay say to him that fashioneth 
it, What makest thou ?" 

Quest. But why is it that God will reason the case 
with man ? 

Answ. 1. Because that man being a reasonable 
creature, is accordingly to be dealt with, and by rea- 
son to be pei-suadcd and overcome ; God hath there- 
fore endowed them with reason, that they might use 
it for him. One would think a reasonalile creature 
9* 



102 A CALL TO Doct. «. 

should not go against the clearest, the greatest reason 
in the world, when it is set before hini. 

2. At least, men shall see that God did require no- 
thing ofthem that was unreasonable ; but both in what 
he commandeth them, and what he forbids them, he 
hath all the right reason in the world on his side; 
and they have good reason to obey him — but none to 
disobey him. And thus even tlie damned shall be 
forced to justify God, and confess that it was only rea- 
sonable that they should have turned to him ; and 
they shall be forced to condemn themselves, and con- 
fess that they had little reason to cast away them • 
selves by the neglecting of his grace in the day of 
their visitation. 

Use. — Look up your best and strongest reasons, sm- 
ners, if you will make good your way. You see now 
with whom you have to deal. What sayest thou, 
unconverted sensual sinner ? Darest thou venture 
upon a dispute with God ? Art thou able to confute 
him ? Art thou ready to enter the lists ? God asketh 
thee, Why wilt thou die ? Art thou furnished with a 
sufficient answer? Wilt thou undertake to prove 
that God is mistaken, and that thou art in the right ? 
O what an undertaking is that ! Why, cither he or 
you are mistaken, when he is for your conversion, and 
you are against it : he calls upon you to turn, and 
you will not ; he bids you do it presently, even to-day, 
while it is called to-day, and you delay, and think it 
time enough hereafter. He saith it must be a total 
change, and you must be holy and new creatures, and 
born again : and you thinlc that lees may serve the 
turn, and that it is enough to patch up tlie old man, 
without becoming new. Who is in the right now? 



Doet. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 103 

God or you ? God calleth you to turn, and to live a 
holy life, and you will not : by your disobedient Ijves 
it appears you will not. If you will, why do you not'? 
Why have you not done it all this while ? And why 
do you not fall upon it yet? Your wills have the 
command of your lives. We may certainly conclude 
that you are unwilling to turn when you do not turn. 
And why will you not ? 

Can you give any reason for it that is worthy to 
be called a reason ? 

I that am but a worm, your fellow creature, of a 
shallow capacity, dare challenge the wisest of you 
all to reason the case with me while I plead my Ma- 
ker's cause ; and I need not be discouraged when I 
know I plead but the cause that God pleadeth, and 
contend for him that w411 have the best at last. Had 
I but these two general grounds against you, I am 
sure that you have no good rearson on your side. 

I am sure it can be no good reason which is against 
the God of truth and reason. It cannot be light that 
is contrary to the sun. There is no knowledge in any 
creature but what it had from God; and therefore 
none can be wiser than God. It were fatal presump- 
tion for the highest angel to compare Avith his Crea- 
tor ! What is it then for a lump of earth, an ignorant 
sot, that knoweth not himself nor his own soul, that 
knoweth but little of the things which he seeth, yea, 
tliat is more ignorant than many of his neighbors, to 
set himself against the wisdom of the Lord ! It is one 
of the fullest discoveries of the horrible wickedness of 
carnal men, and the stark madness of such as sin, 
that so silly a mole dare contradict his Maker, and 
call in question the word of God : yea, that those 
people in our parishes that are so ignorant that tliey 



104 A CALL TO Doct. 6. 

cannot give U9 a reasonable aaswcr concerning the 
very principles ot" religion, are yet so wise in their 
own conceit, that they dare question the plainest 
truths of Grod, yea, contradict them, and cavil against 
them, when they can scarcely speak sense, and will 
beheve them no further than agreeth with their fool- 
ish Avisdom ! 

And as I Imow that God must needs be in the right, 
so I know the cause is so palpable and gross which 
he pleadeth against, that no man can have reason 
for it. Is it possible that a man can have any rejison 
to break his Maker's laws, and reason to dishonor the 
Lord of glory, and reasoii to abuse the Lord that 
bought him ? Is it possible that a man can have any 
good reason to damn his own immortal soul ? Mark the 
Lord's question. Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die? 
Is eternal death a thing to be desired ? Are you in love 
with hell ? What reason have you wilfully to perish t 
If you think you have some reason to sin, should you 
not remember that death is the wages of sin, (Rom. 
6 : 23.) and think whether you have any reason to 
undo yourselves, body and soul for ever ? You should 
not only ask whether you love the adder, but whether 
you love the sting ? It is such a thing for a man to cast 
away his everlasting happiness, and lo sin against 
God, that no good reason can be given for it; but the 
more any one pleads for it, the more mad he showeth 
himself to be. Had you a lordship, or a kingdom 
offered you for every sin that you commit, it were not 
reason, but madness to accept it. Could you by every 
Kin obtain the highest thing on earth that flesh desireth, 
it were of no considerable value to persuade you in 
reason to commit it. If it were to please your great- 
est or dearest friends, or to obey the greatest prince on 



Doct. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 105 

earth, or to save your lives, or to escape the greatest 
earthly misery; all these are of no consideration to 
draw a man in reason to the committing of one sin. 
If it were a right hand, or a right eye that would 
hinder your salvation, it is the most gainful way to 
cast it away, rather than to go to hell to save it ; for 
there is no saving a part when you lose the whole. 
So exceedingly great are the matters of eternity, that 
nothing in this world deserveth once to be named in 
comparison with them; nor can any earthly thing, 
though it were life, or crowns, or kingdoms, be a rea- 
sonable excuse for the neglect of matters of such high 
and everlasting consequence. A man can have no 
reason to cross his ultimate end. Heaven is such a 
thing, that if you lose it, nothing can supply the want, 
or make up the loss; and hell is such a thing, that if 
you suffer it, nothing can remove your misery, or give 
you ease and comfort; and therefore nothing can 
be a valuable consideration to excuse you for neg- 
lecting your own salvation; for, saith our Savior, 
" What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the 
whole world, and lose his own soul ?" Mark, 8 : 36. 
O sirs, that you did but know what matters they are 
t^at we are now speaking to j'su of! you would have 
other kind of thoughts of these things. If the devil 
could come to the saints in heaven that live in the 
eight and love of God, and should offer them sensual 
pleasures, or merry company, or sports to entice them 
away from God and glory, I pray you tell me, how do 
you think they would entertain the motion ? Nay, or 
if he should offer them to be kings on the earth, do you 
think this would entice them down from heaven? O 
\vith what hatred and holy scorn wouM they reject 
the motion ! And why should not you do so, that have 



106 A CALL TO Doct. 6. 

heaven opened to your faith, if you had but faith to see 
it ? There is never a soul in hell but knows, by tlii.^ 
time, tliat it was a mad exchange to let go heaven 
for fleshly pleasure : and tliat it is not a little mirth, 
or plecisure, or worldly riches, or honor, or the good 
will or word of men, that will quench hell fire, or 
make him a gainer that loseth his soul. O if you had 
heard what I believe, if you had seen what I believe, 
and that on the credit of the word of God, you would 
say there can be no reason to warrant a man to destroy 
his soul ; you durst not sleep quietly another night, 
before you had resolved to turn and live. 

If you see a man put his hand in the fire till it 
burn ofi', you will marvel at it ; but this is a thing that 
a man may have a reason for, as Bishop Cranmer had 
when he burnt off his hand for subscribing to Poper}'. 
If you see a man cut off" a leg, or an arm, it is a sad 
sight ; but this is a thing that a man may have a 
good reason for, as many a man hath it done to save 
liis life. If you see a man give his body to be tor- 
mented with scourges and racks, or to be burned to 
ashes, and refuse deliverance when it is offered, this 
is a hard case to flesh and blood ; but this a man may 
have good reason for, as you may see in Heb. 11 : 33, 
36, and as many a hundred martyrs have done. But 
for a man to forsake the Lord that made him, and to 
run into the fire of hell when he is told of it, and en- 
treated to turn that he may be saved — this is a thing 
ihat can have no reason in the world to justify or ex- 
cuse it. For heaven will pay for the loss of any thing 
that we can lose to obtain it, or for any labor which 
we bestow for it ; but nothing can pay for the loas oi 
heaven. 

I beseech you now let this word come nearer to your 



Docl. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 107 

heart. As you are convinced that you have no reason 
to destroy yourselves, so tell me what reason have you 
to refuse to turn and live to God ? What reason has 
the veriest worldling, or drunkard, or ignorant careless 
sinner of you all, why he should not be as holy as any 
you know, and be as careful for his soul as any other? 
Will not hell be as intoleral)le to you as to others ? 
Should not your own souls be as dear to you as theirs 
to them ? Hath not God as much authority over you? 
Why then Avill you not become a sanctified people, as 
well as they? 

O, sirs, when God bringeth the matter down to tlie 
very principles of nature, and shows that you have 
no more reason to be ungodly than you have to damn 
your own souls — if yet you will not understand and 
turn, it seems a desperate case that you are in. 

And now, either you have good reason for what you 
do, or you have not : if not, will you ^o against rea- 
son itself? Will you do that which you have no rea- 
son for? But if you think you have a reason, produce 
it, and make the best of your matter. Reason the 
case a little with me, your fellow creature, which is 
far easier than to reason the case with God ; tell me, 
man, here before the Lord, as if thou wert to die this 
hour, why shoulJest thou not resolve to turn this day, 
before thou stir from the place thou standest in ; what 
reason hast thou to deny or to delay? Hast thou any 
reasons that satisfy thine own conscience for it, or any 
that thou darest own and plead at the bar of God? If 
thou hast, let us hear them, bring them forth, and 
make them good. But, alas ! what poor stuff, what 
nonsense, instead of reasons, do we daily hear from 
ungodly men ! But for their necessity I should be 
ashamed to name tliem. 



108 A CALL TO Doct. & 

Objection 1. One saith, if none shall be saved but 
Buch converted ami sanctified ones as you talk of, then 
heaven would be but empty ; then God help a great 
many. 

Answer. Why, it seems you think that God doth 
not know, or else that he is not to be believed ! Mea- 
sure not all by yourselves : God hath thousands and 
millions of his sanctified ones ; but yet they are few 
in comparison of the world, as Christ himself hath 
told us. Matt. 7 : 13, 14. Luke, 11 : 32. It better be- 
seems you to make that use of this truth which Christ 
teacheth you: " Strive to enter in at the strait gate; 
for strait is the gate and narrow is the way that 
leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it; but 
wide i^ the gate and broad is the way which leadetli 
to destruction, and many there be that go in thereat." 
Luke, 13 : 22—24. Fear not, little flock, (saith Christ 
to his sanctified ones,) for it is your Father's good 
pleasure to give you tlie kingdom. Luke, 12 : 32. 

Object. 2. I am sure, if such as I go to hell, we shall 
have store of company. 

Ans-w. And will that be any ease or comfort to you 1 
Or do you think you may not have company enough 
jn heaven? Will you be undone for company, or will 
you not believe that God Avill execute his threaten- 
ings, because there be so many that are guilty '? These 
are all unreasonable conceits. 

Object. 3. But all men are sinners, even the best of 
you all. 

An^w. But all are not unconverted sinners. The 
godly live not in gross sins ; and their very infirmities 
are their grief and burden, which they daily long, 
and pray, and strive to be rid of. Sin hath not do- 
minion over them. 



Docl. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 109 

Object. 4. I do not see that professors are any bettei 
than other men; they will overreach, and oppress, 
and are as covetous as any. 

Answ. Whatever hypocrites are^ it is not so ■v^^th 
those that are sanctified. God hath thousands, and 
tens of thousands that are otherwise, though the ma- 
licious world doth accuse them of what they can never 
prove, and of that which never entered into their 
hearts; and commonly they charge them with heart- 
sins, which none can see but God, because they can 
charge them with no such wickedness in their lives 
as they are guilty of themselves. 

Object. 5. But I am no whoremonger, nor drunkard, 
nor oppressor ; and therefore why should you call upon 
me to be converted ? 

Answ. As if you were not born after the flesh, and 
had not lived after the flesh, as well as others ! Is it 
not as great a sin as any of these, for a man to liave 
an earthly mind, and to love the world above God, 
and to have an mibelieving, unhumbled heart ? Nay, 
let me tell you more, that many persons that avoid 
disgraceful sins are as fast glued to the world, and aa 
much slaves to the flesh, and as strange to God, and 
averse to heaven in their more civil course, as others 
are in their more sliameful notorious sins. 

Object. 6, But I mean nobody any harm, nor do 
any harm ; and -vvhy then should God condemn me? 

Answ. Is it no harm to neglect the Lord that made 
thee, and the work for which thou earnest into tho 
world, and to prefer the creature before the Creator, 
and to neglect grace that is daily offered thee? It is 
liic depth of thy sinfulness to be so insensible of it: 
ihe dead feel not tliat they are dead. If once thou 
10 



no A CALL TO Doct 9, 

wert made alive, thou wouldst see more amiss in tliy- 
eeir, and marvel at thyself tor making so light of it. 

Object, 7. I think you would make men mad, under 
pretence of converting them : it is enough to rack the 
brains of simple people to muse so mueii on matters 
so high for them. 

Answ. 1. Can you be more mad than you are al- 
ready? or, at least, can there be a more dangerous 
madness than to neglect your everlasting welfare, 
and wilfully undo yourselves ? 

2. A man is never w^ell in his wits till he be con- 
verted: he never knows God, nor knows sin, nor knows 
Christ, nor knows the world, nor himself, nor Avhat his 
business is on earth, so as to set himself about it, till 
he be converted. The Scripture saith, that the wicked 
are unreasonable men, (2 These. 3:2,) and that the 
■wisdom of the world is foolishness with Gotl. 1 Cor, 
1 : 20. and Luke 15 : 17. It is said of the prodigal, 
that when be came to himself he resolved to return. 
What a strange wisdom is this; men will disobey 
God, and run to hell, for fear of being out of their wits? 

3. What is there in the w^ork that Christ calls you 
to, that should drive a man out of his wits ? Is it the 
loving God, and calling upon him, and comfortably 
thinking of the glory to come, and the forsaking of 
our sins, and loving one another, and delighting our- 
selves in the service of God ? Are tliese such tilings 
as should make men mad ? 

4. And whereas you say that these matters are too 
high for us ; you accuse God himself for making this our 
work, and giving us his word, and commanding all 
that w^ill be blessed to meditate on it day and n'ght. 
Are tlie matters which we are made for, and which 
we hve for, too liigh for us to meddle Avith ? This i* 



^>ocl6. the unconverted. Ill 

plainly to unman us. and to make beasts of us, as if 
we were like them that must meddle with no higher 
matters than what belongs to flesh and earth. If 
heaven be too high for you to think on and provide 
for, it will be too high for you ever to possess. 

5. If Grod should sometimes suffer any weak-headed 
persons to be distracted by thinking of eternal things, 
this is because they misunderstand them, and run 
without a guide ; and of the two, I had raiher be in 
the case of such a one, than of the mad unconverted 
world, that take their distraction to be their wisdom. 

Object. 8. I do not think that God cares so much 
what men think, or speak, or do, as to make so great 
a matter of it. 

Answ. It seems, then, you take the word of God to 
be false : then what will you believe ? But your own 
reason might teach you better, if you believe not the 
scriptures; for you see God sets not so light by us but 
that he vouchsafed to make us, and still preser^'eth us, 
and daily upholdeth us, and provideth for us ; and will 
any wise man make a curious frame for nothing? 
Will you make or buy a clock or watch, and daily 
look at it, and not care whether it go true; or false 1 
Surely, if you beheve not a particular eye of Provi- 
dence observing your hearts and lives, yovi cannot be- 
lieve or expect any particular Providence to observe 
your wants and troubles, or to relieve you; and it 
God had so little care for you as you imagine, you 
would never have lived till now ; a hundred diseases 
would have striven which should first destroy you : 
yea, the devils would have haunted you, and fetched 
you away aUve, £is the great fishes devour the less, 
and as ravenous beasts and birds devour others. You 
camiot think that God made man for no end or use ; 



112 A CALL TO Doet.6. 

and if he made him for any, it was surely for himself; 
and can you think he cares not whetlier his end be 
accomplished, and whether we do the work that we 
are made for ? 

Yea, by tliis atheistical objection you make God to 
have made and upheld all the world in vain ; for what 
are all other lower creatures for, but for man ? What 
doth the earth but bear us and nourish us, and the 
beasts but serve us with their labors and lives, and so 
of the rest? And hath God made so glorious a habita- 
tion, and set man to dwell in it, and made all his ser- 
vants ; and now doth he look for nothing at his hands, 
nor care how he thinks, or speaks, or lives ? This is 
most imreasonable. 

Object. 9. It was a better world when men did not 
make so much ado in religion. 

AnsiP. 1. It hatli ever been the custom to praise the 
times past ; that world that you speak of vra.s wont to 
say it was a better world in their forefathers' days ; 
and 60 did they of their forefathers. This is but an 
old custom, because we all feel the evil of our own 
times, but we see not that which was before us. 

2. Perhaps you speak as you think. Worldlinga 
think the world is at the best when it is agreeable to 
tlieir minds, and when they have most mirth and 
worldly pleasure ; and I doubt not but the devil, as well 
as you, would say, that then it was a better world ; 
for then he had more service, and less disturbance. 
But the world is at the best when God is most loved, 
regarded, and obeyed ; and how else will you know 
when the world is good or bad, but by this? 
• Object. 10. There are so many ways and religions, 
that we know not which to be of, and therefore we 
will be even as we are. 



^oct. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 113 

Answ, Because there are many, will you be of that 
way that you may be sure is wrong ? None are further 
out of the way than worldly, fleshly, unconverted sin- 
ners ; for tliey do not only err in this or that opinion, 
as many sects do, but in the very scope and drift of 
their lives. If you were going a journey that your 
life lay on, would you stop, or turn again, because you 
met with some cross-ways, or because you saw some 
travellers go the horse-way, and some the foot-way, 
and some perhaps break over the hedge, yea, and 
some miss the way ? Or would you not rather be the 
more careful to inquire the way ? If you have some 
servants that la7ow not how to do your work right, 
and some that are uniaithful, would you take it well 
of any of the rest that would therefore be idle and do 
you no service, because they see their companions 
60 bad? 

Object. 11. I do not see that it goes any better witli 
those that are so godly, than with other men; they 
are as poor and in as much trouble as others. 

Answ. And perhaps in much more, when God sees 
it meet. They take not earthly prosperity for their 
wages; they have laid up their treasure and hopes in 
another world, or else they are not Christians indeed ; 
the less they have, the more is behind, and they are 
content to wait till then. 

Object. 12. When you have said all that you can, I 
am resolved to hope well, and trust in Grod, and do as 
well as I can, and not make so much ado. 

Answ. 1. Is that doing as well as you can, when 
you will not turn to God, but j^our heart is againet 
his holy and diligent service? It is as well as you will, 
indeed, but that is your misery. 

2. My desire is, that you should hope and trust in 
10* 



114 A CALL TO Doct. 6. 

God. Bat for what is it that you will hope? Is it to 
be saved, if you turn and be sanctified? For this you 
have God's promise, and therefore hope for it, and 
spare not. But if you hope to be saved without con- 
version, and a holy life, this is not to hope in God, but 
in Satan, or yourselves ; for God hath given you no 
such promise, but told you the contrary; but it is 
Satan and self-love that made you such promises, and 
raised you to such hopes. 

Well, if tliese, and such as these, be all you have 
to say against conversion, and a holy life, your all is 
nothing, and worse than nothing ; and if these, and 
such as these, seem reasons sufficient to persuade you 
to forsake God, and cast yourselves into hell, the Lord 
deliver you from such reasons, and from such blind 
understandings, and from such senseless hardened 
hearts. Dare you stand to aver one of these reasons 
at the bar of God ? Do you think it will then serve 
your turn to say, " Lord, I did not turn, because I had 
so much to do in the world, or because I did not like 
tlie lives of some professors, or because I saw men of 
so many minds !" O how easily will the light of that 
day confound and shame such reasonings as these ! 
Had you the world to look after? Let the world which 
you served now pay you your wages, and save you if 
it can. Had you not a better world to look after first, 
and were ye not commanded to seek first God's king- 
dom and righteousness, and promised that other things 
should be added to you ? Matt. 6 : 33. And were ye 
not told, that godliness Avas profitable to all things, 
having the promise of this life, and that which is to 
come? 1 Tim. 4 : 8. Did the sins of the professors 
hinder you ? You should rather have been the more 
heedful, and learned by their falls to beware, and have 



DocL 0. THE UNCONVERTED. 115 

been the more careful, and not to be more careless. It 
was the Scripture, and not their lives, that was your 
rule. Did the many opinions of the world hinder 
you? Why the Scripture that was your rule did 
teach you but one way, and that was the right way 
If you had followed that, even in so much as was plain 
and easy, you should never have miscarried. Will 
not such answers as these confound and silence you 1 
If these will not, God hath those that will. When 
he asked the man, " Friend, how camest thou in 
hither, not having on a wedding garment?" Matt. 
22 : 12, that is, what dost thou in my church among 
professed Christians, without a holy heart and hfe — 
what answer did he make? Why. the text saith, " he 
was speechless ;" he had nothing to say. The clear- 
ness of the case, and the majesty of God, will then 
easily stop the mouths of the most confident of you, 
though you will not be put down by any thing we 
can say to you now, but will make good your cause 
be it ever so bad. 1 know already that never a reason 
that now you can give me will do you any good at 
last, when your case must be opened before the Lord, 
and all the world. 

Nay, I scarce think that your own consciences are 
well satisfied with your reasons ; for if they are, it 
seems, then, you have not so much as a purpose to 
repent. But if you do purpose to repent, it seems 
you do not put much confidence in your reasons which 
you bring against it. 

What say you, unconverted sinners ? Have you 
any good reasons to give why you should not turn, 
and presently turn with all your hearts ? Or will you 
go to hell in despite of reason itself? Bethink you 
what you do in time, for it will shortly be too late to 



116 A CALL TO Doct. 6. 

bethink you. Can you find any fault with God, or 
his work, or his wages ? Is he a bad master ? Is the 
devil, whom ye serve, a better ? or is the flesh a bet- 
ter? Is there any harm in a holy life? Is a life of 
worldliness and ungodliness better ? Do you think in 
your consciences that it would do you any harm to be 
converted and hve a holy life ? What harm can it 
do you ? Is it harm to you to have the Spirit of Christ 
within you, and to have a cleansed purified heart ? 
If it be bad to be holy, why doth God say, " Be ye 
holy, for I am holy?" I Pet. 1 : 15, 16; Lev. 20 : 7. 
Is it evil to be like God ? Is it not said that God made 
man in his own image ? Why, this holiness is his 
image ; this Adam lost, and this Christ by his word 
and Spirit would restore to you, as he doth to all that 
he will save. Tell me truly, as before the Lord, 
though you are loth to live a holy life, had you not 
rather die in the case of those that do so, than of 
others ? If you were to die this day, had you not ra- 
ther die in the case of a converted man than of an un- 
converted ? of a holy and heavenly man than of a 
carnal earthly man ? and would you not say as Ba- 
laam, (Numb. 23 : 10.) " Let me die the death of the 
righteous, and let my last end be like his !" And why 
will you not now be of the mind that you will be of 
then ? First or last you must come to this, either to 
be converted, or to wish you had been, when it is 
too late. 

But what is it that you are afraid of losing, if you 
turn ? Is it your friends ? You will but change them ; 
God will be your friend, and Christ and the Spirit 
will be your friend ; and every Christian will be your 
friend. You will get one friend that will stand you in 
more stead than all the friends in the world could have 



Doct. 8 THE UNCONVERTED. 117 

done. The friends you lose would have but enticed 
you to hell, but could not have delivered you : but the 
friend you get will save you from hell, and bring you 
to his own eternal rest. 

Is it your pleasures that you are afraid of losing ? 
You think you shall never have a merry day again 
if once you be converted. Alas ! that you should think 
it a greater pleasure to live in foolish sports and mer- 
riments, and please your flesh, than to live in the be- 
lieving thoughts of glory, and in the love of God, and 
in righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy 
Ghost, in which the state of grace consisteth. Rom. 
14 : 17. If it would be a greater pleasure for you to 
think of your lands and inheritance, if you were lord 
of all the country, than it is for a child to play at pins, 
why should it not be a greater joy to you to think of 
the kingdom of heaven being yours* than of all the 
riches or pleasures of the world 1 As it is but foolish 
childishness that makes children so delight in toys 
that they would not leave them for all your lands, so 
it is but foolish worldliness, and fleshliness, and wick- 
edness, that makes you so much delight in your houses 
and lands, and meat and drink, and ease and honor, 
as that you would not part with them for the heaven- 
ly dehghts. But what will you do for pleasure when 
^ese are gone 7 Do you not think of that ? When 
your pleasures end in horror, and go out like a taper, 
the pleasures of the saints are then at the best. I have 
had myself but a httle taste of the heavenly pleasures 
in the forethoughts of the blessed approaching day, 
and in the present persuasions of the love of God in 
Christ ; but I have taken too deep a draught of earth- 
ly pleasures : so that you may see, if I be partial, it ia 
on your side ; and yet I must profess from that little 



118 A CALL TO Doct. 6. 

experience, that there is no comparison. There is 
rnore joy to be had in a day, if the sun of hfe shine 
clear upon us, in the state of hohness, than in a whole 
life of sinful pleasures. " I had rather be a door-keeper 
in the house of God than to dwell in the tents of wick- 
edness." Psalm &4 : 10. " A day in his courts is better 
than a thousand" any where else. Psalm 84 : 10. The 
mirth of the wicked is like the laughter of a madman, 
that knows not his own misery ; and therefore Solo- 
mon says of such laughter, " it is mad ; and of mirth, 
what <lotli it ?" Eccles. 2 : 2 ; 7 : 2, 6. " It is better 
to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house 
of feasting ; for that is the end of all men, and the liv- 
ing will lay it to his heart. Sorrow is better than 
laughter ; for by the sadness of the countenance the 
heart is made better.. The heart of the wise is in the 
house of mourning ; but the heart of fools is in the 
house of mirth. It is better to bear the rebuke of the 
wise, than to hear the song of fools ; for as the crack- 
ling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the 
fool." Your loudest laughter is but like that of a man 
that is tickled ; he laughs when he has no cause of 
joy. Judge, as you are men, whether tliis be a wise 
man's part. It is but your carnal unsanctified nature 
that makes a holy life seem grievous to you, and a 
course of sensuality seem more delightful. If you will 
but turn, the Holy Ghost will give you another na- 
ture and inclination, and then it will be more pleasant 
to you to be rid of your sin, than now it is to keep it , 
and you will then say, that you knew not what a 
comfortable life was till now, and that it was never 
well with you till God and holiness were your delight. 
Question. But how cometh it to pass that men 
should bfe so unreasonable in the matters of salvation ? 



Doct. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 119 

They have wit enough in other matters : what makes 
them so loth to be converted that there should need 
60 many words in so plain a case, and all will not do, 
but the most will live and die unconverted ? 

Answer. To name them only in a few words, the 
causes are these : 

1. Men are naturally in love with the earth and 
flesh ; they are born sinners, and their nature hath an 
enmity to God and goodness, as the nature of a ser- 
pent hath to a man : and when all that we can say 
goes against an habitual inclination of their natures, 
no marvel if it prevail little. 

2. They are in darkness, and know not the very 
things they hear. Like a man that was born blind, 
and hears a high commendation of the light ; but 
what will hearing do, unless he sees it 1 They know 
not what God is, nor what is the power of the cross 
of Christ, nor what the Spirit of holiness is, nor what 
it is to live in love by faith : they know not the cer- 
tainty, and suitableness, and excellency of the hea- 
venly inheritance. They know not what conversion 
and a holy mind and conversation is, even when they 
hear of it. They are in a mist of ignorance. They 
are lost and be^vildered in sin ; like a man that has 
lost himself in the niglit, and knows not where he is, 
nor how to come to himself again, till the daylight 
recover him. 

3. They are wilfully confident that they need no 
conversion, but some partial amendment, and that 
they are in the way to heaven already, and are con- 
verted when they are not. And if you meet a man 
that is quite out of his way, you may long enough 
call on him to turn back again, if he will not believe 
you that he is out of the way. 



laC A CALL TO Doct. 8. 

4. They are become slaves to their flesh, and 
drowned in the world, to make provision for it. Their 
lusts, and passions, and appetites, have distracted 
them, and got such a hand over them that they can- 
not tell how to deny them, or how to mind any thing 
else ; so that the drunkard saith, I love a cup of good 
drink, and I cannot forbear it ; the glutton saith, I 
love good cheer, and I cannot forbear ; the fornicator 
saith, I love to have my lufit fulfilled, and I cannot 
forbear ; and the gamester loves to have his sports, 
and he cannot forbear. So that they are become even 
captivated slaves to their flesh, and their very wilful- 
ness is become an impotency ; and what they would 
not do, they say they cannot. And the worldling is 
so taken up with earthly things, that he hath neither 
heart, nor mind, nor time, for heavenly ; but, as in 
Pharaoh's dream, Gen. 41 : 4, the lean kine did eat 
up the fat ones ; so this lean and barren earth doth 
eat up all the thoughts of heaven. 

5. Some are so carried away by the stream of evil 
company, that they are possessed with hard thoughts 
of a godly life, by hearing them speak against it ; or 
at least they think they may venture to do as they 
see most do, and so they hold on in their sinful ways; 
and when one is cut off, and cast into hell, and an- 
other snatched away from among them to the same 
condemnation, it doth not much daunt them, because 
they see not whither they are gone. Poor wretches, 
they hold on in their ungodliness for all this ; for they 
little know that their companions are now lamenting 
it in torments. In Luke 16, the rich man in hell would 
fain have had one to warn his five brethren, lest they 
sliould come to that place of torment. It is likely he 
knew their minds and lives, and knew that they were 



Dott. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 121 

hasting tliither, and little dreamt that he was there, 
yea, and would little have believed one that should 
have told them so. I remember a passage that a gen- 
tleman, yet living, told me he saw upon a bridge over 
the Severn * A man was driving a flock of fat lambs, 
and sometliing meeting them, and hindering their 
passage, one of the lambs leapt upon the wall of the 
bridge, and his legs slipping from under him he fell 
into the stream ; the rest seeing him, did, one after 
^ne, leap over the bridge into the stream, and were all 
-)T almost all drowned. Those that were behind did 
iittle know what was become of them that were gone 
before ; but thought they might venture to follow their 
companions ; but as soon as ever they were over the 
wall, and falling headlong, the case was altered. 
Even so it is with unconverted carnal men. One dieth 
by them, and drops into hell, and another follows the 
same way ; and yet they will go after them, because 
they think not whither they are gone. O, but when 
death hath once opened their eyes, and they see what 
is on the other side of the wall, even in another world, 
then what would they give to be where they were ! 

6. Moreover, they have a subtle malicious enemy 
that is unseen of them, and plays his game in the 
dark ; and it is his principal business to hinder their 
Conversion ; and therefore to keep them where they 
are, by persuading them not to believe the Scriptures, 
or not to trouble their minds with these matters ; or 
by persuading them to tliink ill of a godly hfe, or to 
think that more is enjoined than need be, and that 
they may be saved without conversion, and without 
aU this stir ; and that God is so merciful that he will 
not damn any such as they ; or at least, that they may 

* Mr R. Rowly, of Shrewsbury, upou Acham-Bridge. 
11 



122 A CALL TO Doct. 7 

Stay a little longer, and take their pleasure, and Ibl- 
loAv the world a little longer yet, and then let it go, 
and repent hereafter. And by such juggling, delud- 
ing cheats as these, the devil keeps the most in hia 
captivity, and leadcth them to his misery. 

These, and such like impediments as these, do keep 
so many thousands unconverted, v.'hen God hath done 
so much, and Christ hath suffered so much, and mi- 
nisters have said so much for their conversion : when 
their reasons are silenced and they are not able to 
answer the Lord that calls after them, " Turn ye, 
turn ye, why will ye die ?" yet all comes to nothing 
with the greatest part of them ; and they leave us no 
more to do after all, but to sit down and lament their 
wilful misery. 

I have now shoAved you the reasonableness of God's 
commands, and the unreasonableness of wicked men's 
disobedience. If nothing will serve their turn, but 
men will yet refuse to turn, we are next to consider, 
who is in fault if they be damned. And lliis brings 
me to the last doctrine ; which is, 

DOCTRINE VII. 

71mt if after all this men will not turn, it is not the 
fault of God that they are condemned^ hut their 
&wn, even their own loilfidness. They die he- 
cause they will., that is^ because they will not turn. 

If you will go to hell, what remedy ? God here ac- 
quits himself of your blood ; it shall not lie on him if 
you be lost. A negligent minister may draw it upon 
him; and those that encourage you or hinder you 
not in sin, may draw it upon them ; but be sure of it, 
t shall not lie upon God. Saith the Lord, concern- 



Doct. 7. THE UNCONVERTI^D. 123 

ing his unprofitable vineyard : (Isa. 5 : 1, 4,) " Judge, 
I pray j'ou, betwixt me and my vineyard : wliat 
could have been done more to my vineyard that I 
have not done in it ?" When he had planted it in a 
liuitlul soil, and fenced it, and gathered out the stonea, 
and planted it with the choicest vines, what should he 
have done more to it ? He hath made you men, and 
endowed you with reason ; he hath furnished you with 
all external necessaries ; all creatures are at your ser- 
vice; he hath given you a righteous pei-fect law. 
When ye had broken it, and undone yourselves, he 
had pity on you, and sent his Son by a miracle of 
condescending mercy to die for you, and be a sacrifice 
for your sins ; and he was in Christ reconciling the 
world to himself! 

The Lord Jesus hath made you a deed of gift of 
himself, and eternal hfe with him, on the condition 
you will bat accept it, and return. He hath on this 
reasonable condition ofiered you the free pardon of all 
your sins ! he hath written this in his word, and sealed 
it by his Spirit, and sent it by his ministers : they 
iiave made the offer to you a hundred and a hundred 
times, and called you to accept it, and to turn to God. 
They have in his name entreated you, and reasoned 
the ca&e. with you, and answered all your frivolous 
objections. He hath long waited on you, and staid 
your leisure, and suffered you to abuse him to his 
liice ! He hath mercifully sustained you in the midst 
of your sins ; he hath compassed you about with all 
sorts of mercies ; he hath also intermixed afflictions, 
to remind you of your folly, and call you to your 
senses, and his Spirit has been often striving with 
yoar hearts, and saying there, " Turn, sinner, turn 
to him that calleth thee : Whither art tliou going? 



124 A CALL TO Doct. 7. 

What art thou doing ? Dost thou know what will be 
the end ? How long wilt thou hate thy friends, and 
love thine enemies ? When wilt thou let go all, and 
turn and deliver thyself to God, and give thy Re- 
deemer the possession of thy soul ? When shall it 
once be?" These pleading^ have been used with 
thee, and when thou hast delayed, thou hast been 
urged to make haste, and God hath called to thee, 
" To-day, while it is called to-day, harden not thy 
heart." Why not now without any more delay? 
Life hath been set before you ; the joys of heaven 
have been opened to you in the Gospel ; the certainty 
of them hath been manifested ; the certainty of the 
everlasting torments of the damned hath been de- 
clared to you ; unless you would have had a sight of 
heaven and hell, what could you desire more ? Christ 
hath been, as it were, set forth crucified before your 
eyes. Gal. 3 : 1. You have been a hundred times 
told that you are but lost men till you come unto him ; 
as oft you have been told of the evil of sin, of the 
vanity of sin, the world, and all the pleasures and 
wealth it can afford ; of the shortness and uncertainty 
of your lives, and the endless duration of the joy or 
torment of the life to come. All this, and more than 
this have you been told, and told again, even till you 
were weary of hearing it, and till you could make 
the lighter of it, because you had so often heard it, 
like the smith's dog, that is brought by ciKtom to 
sleep under the noise of the hammers and when the 
Bparks fly about his ears ; and though all this have 
not converted you, yet you are alive, and might have 
mercy to this day, if you had but hearts to entertain 
it. And now let reason itself be the judge, whether it 
be the fault of God or yours, if after this you will bo 



Doct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 125 

unconverted and be damned. If you die now, it is 
because you will die. What should be said more to 
you, or what course should be taken that is more like- 
ly to prevail '? Are you able to say, and make it good, 
" We would tain have been converted and become new 
creatures, but we could not ; we would fain have for- 
saken our sins, but we could not; we would have 
changed our company, and our thoughts, and our dis- 
course, but we could not." Why could you not, if you 
would ? What hindered you but the wickedness of 
your hearts ? Who forced you to sin, or who held you 
back from duty? Had not you the same teaching, 
and time, and liberty to be godly, as your godly neigh- 
bors had ? Why then could not you have been godly 
as well as they ? Were the church doors shut against 
you, or did you not keep away yourselves, or sit and 
sleep, or hear as if you did not hear 1 Did God put in 
any exceptions against you in his word, when he in- 
vited sinners to return ; and when he promised mercy 
to those that do return ? Did he say, " I will pardon 
all that repent except thee ?" Did he shut thee out 
from the liberty of his holy worship ? Did he forbid 
you to pray to him any more than others 7 You know 
he did not. God did not drive you away from him, 
but you forsook him, and ran away yourselves, and 
when he called you to him, you would not come. If 
God had excepted you out of the general promise and 
offer of mercy, or had said to you, " Stand off, 1 will 
have nothing to do with such as you ; pray not to me, 
for I will not hear you ; if you repent never so much, 
and cry for mercy never so much, I will not regard 
you." If God had left you nothing to trust to but des- 
peration, then you had had a fair excuse ; you might 
have said, " To what end do I repent and tum, when 
11* 



126 A CALL TO Doct. 7 

it will do no good ?" But this was not your case : you 
might have had Christ to be your Lord and Savior, 
your head and husband, as well as others, and you 
would not, because you felt yourselves not sick enough 
for the physician : and because you could not spare 
your disease. In your hearts you said as those rebels, 
Luke, 19 : 14, " We will not have this man to reign 
over us." Christ would have gathered you under 
the wings of his salvation, and you would not. Matt. 
23 : 37. What desires of your welfare did the Lord 
express in his holy word ? With what compassion 
did he stand over you, and say, " O that my people 
had hearkened unto me, and that they had walked in 
my ways!" Psalm 17 : 13; 76 : 13, " O that there 
were such a heart in this people, that they would fear 
me, and keep all my commandments always, that it 
might be well with them and with their children for 
ever !" Deut. 5 : 29, " O that they were wise, that 
they understood this, that they would consider their 
latter end !" Deut. 32 : 29. He would have been your 
God, and done all for you that your souls could well 
desire : but you loved the world and your flesh above 
him, and therefore you would not hearken to him : 
though you complimented him, and gave him high 
titles ; yet when it came to the closing, you would 
have none of him. Psalm 81 : 11, 12. No marvel then 
if he gave you up to your own hearts' lusts, and you 
walked in your own counsels. He condescends to rea- 
son, and pleads the case with you, and asks you, 
" What is there in me, or my service, that you should 
DC so much against me ? What harm have I done 
thee, sinner ? Have I deserved this unkind deahng at 
thy hand? Many mercies have I showed thee: for 
which of them dost thou thus despise me ? Is it I, or 



Doct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED, 127 

is it satan, that is thy enemy? Is it I, or is it thy 
carnal self that would undo thee ? Is it a holy life, 
or a life of sin that thou hast cause to fly from ? If 
thou be undone, thou procurest this to thyself, by for- 
saking me, the Lord that would have saved thee." 
Jer. 2:7. " Doth not thy own wickedness correct 
thee, and thy sin reprove thee ? Thou may est see that 
it is an evil and bitter thing that thou hast forsaken 
me." Jer. 2 : 19. " What iniquity have you found 
in me that you have followed after vanity, and for- 
saken me ?" Jer. 2 : 5, 6. He calleth out, as it were, 
to the brutes, to hear the controversy he hath against 
you. Mic. 2 ; 3, 5, " Hear, O ye mountains, the Lord's 
controversy, and ye strong foundations of the earth ; 
for the Lord hath a controversy with his people, and 
he will plead with Israel. O my people, what have 
I done unto thee, and wherein have I wearied thee ? 
testify against me, for I brought thee up out of Egypt, 
and redeemed thee." " Hear, O heavens, and give 
ear, O earth, for the Lord hath spoken. I have nou- 
rished and brought up children, and they have rebell- 
ed against me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the 
ass his master's crib ; but Israel doth not know, my 
people doth not consider ! Ah sinful nation, a people 
laden with iniquity, a seed of evil rioers !" &c. Isaiah, 
I : 2, 4. " Do you thus requite the Lord, O fooHsh 
people, and unwise? Is not he thy Father that bought 
thee? Hath he not made thee, and established thee?" 
Deut. 32 : 6. When he saw that you forsook him, 
even for nothing, and turned away from the Lord of 
life to hunt after the chaff and feathers of the world, 
he told you of your folly, and called you to a more 
profitable employment, Isaiah, 55 : 1, 3. " Where- 
fore do ye spend your money for that which is no* 



128 A CALL TO Doct. 7 

bread, and your labor for that which satisfieth not? 
Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is 
good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. In- 
cline your ear, and come unto me; hear, and your 
soul shall live; and I will make an everlasting cove- 
nant with you, even the sure mercies of David. 
Seek ye the Lord while he may be found : call ye 
upon him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake 
his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and 
let him return unto the I^ord, and he will have mercy 
upon him ; and to our God, for he will abundantly 
pardon ;" and so Isa. 1 : 16 — 18, And when you would 
not hear, what complaints have you put him to, charg- 
ing it on you as your wilfulness and stubbornness. 
Jer. 2 : 13, 13. "Be astonished, O heavens, at this, 
and be horribly afraid ; for my people have committed 
two evils; they have forsaken me, the fountain of 
living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken 
cisterns, that can hold no water." Many a time hath 
Christ proclaimed that free invitation to you. Rev. 
22 : 17, " Let him that is athirst come, and whosoever 
will, let him take the water of life freely." But you 
put him to complain, after all his offers, " They will 
not come to me, that they may have life." John, 5 : 
40. He hath invited you to feast with him in the 
kingdom of his grace, and you have had excuses 
from your grounds, and j'-our cattle, and your worldly 
business ; and when you would not come, you have 
said you could not, and provoked him to resolve that 
you should never taste of his supper. Luke, 14 : 16 — 
25. And who is it the fault of now but yourselves ? 
and what can you say is the chief cause of your dam- 
nation but your own wills? you would be damned. 
The whole case is laid open by Christ himself. Prov. 



Doct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. ' 120 

1 : 20—33. " Wisdom crieth without, she utterelh her 
voice in the streets ; she crieth in the chief place of 
concourse — How long, ye simple ones, will ye love 
simplicity, and the scorners dehght in their scorning, 
and fools hate Imowledge ? Turn ye at my reproof. 
Behold, I wdl pour out my Spirit upon you, I will 
make knoAvn my words unto you. Because I have 
called, and ye refused. I have stretched out my 
hands and no man regarded; but ye have set at 
naught all my counsels, and would none of my re- 
proofs. I also will laugh at your calamity, I will 
mock when your fear cometh : when your fear cometh 
as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirl- 
wind ; when distress and anguish cometh upon you, 
then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer j 
they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me, 
for that they hated knowledge, and did not choose the 
fear of the Lord. They would none of my counsels ; 
they despised all my reproofs; therefore shall they eat 
of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their 
own devices. For the turning away of the simple 
shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall de- 
stroy them. But Avhoso hearkeneth to me shall dwell 
safely, and shall be quiet from the fear of evil." I 
thought best to recite the whole text at large to you, 
because it doth so fully show the cause of the destruc- 
tion of the wicked. It is not because God would not 
teach them, but because they would not learn. It is 
not because God would not call them, but because 
they would not turn at his reproof. Their wilfulness 
is their undoing. 

Use. — From what hath been said, you may farther 
learn these following things : i 

1. From hence you may see, not only wliat bias- 



130 A CALL TO Poot. 7 

phemy and impiety it is to lay the Manic of nicii's 
destruction upon God, but also how unfit these \vicl<ed 
wretches are to bring in such a charge against their 
Maker! They cry out upon God, and say he gives 
them not grace, and his threatenings are severe, and 
God forbid that all should be condemned that be not 
converted and sanctified ; and they think it hard 
measure that a short sin should have an endless sut- 
lering; and if they be damned they say tliey cannot 
help it, when, in the meantime, they are busy about 
their own destruction, even the destmction of their 
own souls, and will not be persuaded to hold their 
hands. They think God Avere cruel if he should con- 
demn them, and yet thej' are so cruel to themselves 
that they will i-un into the fire of hell, v.'hen God hath 
told them it is a little before them; and neither en- 
treaties, nor threatenings, nor any thing that can be 
said, will stop them. We see them almost undone ; 
their careless, worldly, fleshly hves, tell us that they 
are in the power of the devil ; we know, if they die 
before they are converted, all the world cannot save 
them; and knowing the uncertainty of their lives, we 
are afraid every day lest they drop into the fire; and 
therefore we entreat them to pity their own souls, and 
not to undo themselves when mercy is at Uand, and 
they will not hear us. We entreat them to cast away 
their sin, and come to Christ without delay, and to 
have some mercy on themselves, but they will have 
none; and yet they think that God must be cruel if 
he condemn them. O wilful miserable sinners! it is 
not God that is cruel to you, it is you that are cruel 
to yourselves; you are told you must turn or burn, 
and yet you turn not. You are told, that if you will 
needs keep your sins, you shall keep the cui-se of God 



Dcct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 131 

with them, and yet you will keep them. You are told 
that there is no way to happiness but by hohness, and 
yet you will not be holy. What would you have God 
say more to you ? What would you have him do with 
his mercy? He oflfereth it to j^ou, and you will not 
have it. You are in the ditch of sin and misery, and 
he would give you his hand to help you out, and you 
refuse liis help ; he would cleanse you of your sins, 
and you had rather keep them ; you love your lust, 
and love your gluttony, and sports, and drunkenness, 
and will not let them go ; would you have him bring 
you to heaven whether you will or not ? Or would 
yjiiu have him bring you and your sins to heaven 
together 1 Why that is an impossibility ; you may aa. 
ivell expect he should turn the sun into darkness. 
What ! an unsanctified fleshly heart be in heaven? 
it cannot be. There entereth nothing that is unclean. 
Rev. 21 : 17. " For what communion hath light with 
darkness, or Christ with Behal?" 2 Cor. 6 : 14, 15. 
" All the day long hath he stretched out his hands to 
a disobedient and gainsaying people." Rom. 10 : 21. 
What will you do now? Will you cry to God for 
mercy ? Why, God calleth upon you to have mercy 
upon yourselves, and you will not ! Ministers see the 
poisoned cup in the drunlcard's hand, and tell him 
there is poison in it, and desire him to have mercy on 
his soul, and forbear, and he will not hear us ! Drink 
it he must and will ; he loves it, and, therefore, though 
hell comes next, he saith he cannot help it. What 
should one say to such men as these? We tell the 
imgodly careless worldling, it is not such a life that 
Avill serve the turn, or ever bring you to heaven. If 
a lion were at your back you would mend your pace ; 
when the curse of God is at your back, and satan 



132 A CALL TO Doct. 7 

and JicU arc at your back, will you not stir, but 
ask, What needs of all tliis ado? Is an immortal 
soul of no more worth ? O have mercy upon your- 
selves! But they will have no mercy on them- 
selves, nor once regard us. We tell them the end will 
be bitter. Who can dwell with the everlasting fire 7 
And yet they will have no mercy on themselves. 
And yet will these shameless transgressors say, that 
God is more merciful than to condemn them, when il 
is themselves that cruelly and unmercifully run upon 
condemnation ; and if we should go to them, and en- 
treat them, we cannot stop them ; if we should fall 
on our knees to them we cannot stop them, but to hell 
they will go, and yet will not believe that they are 
going thither. If we beg of them for the sake of God 
that made them, and preserveth them ; lor the sake 
of Christ that died for them; for the sake of their 
own souls to pity themselves, and go no further in the 
way to hell, but come to Christ while his arms arc 
open, and enter into the state of life while the dooi* 
stands open, and now take mercy while mercy may 
be had, they will not be persuaded. If we should 
die for it, we cannot so much as get them now and 
then to consider with themselves of the matter, and 
turn; and yet they can say, " I hope God will be 
merciful.'' Did you never consider what he saith, 
Isa. 27 til, " It is a people of no understanding; 
therefore, he that made them will not have mercy on 
tliem, and he that formed them will show them no 
favor." If another man will not clothe you when 
you are naked, and feed you when you are hungry, 
you will say he is unmerciful. If he should cast you 
into prJson, or beat and torment you, you Would say 
he is mmierciful : and yet you will do a thousand 



P<^^-^- THE UNCONVERTED. 133 

times more against yourselves, even cast away both 
soul and body for ever, and never complain of your 
own unmercifulness ! Yea, and God that waited upon 
you all the while with his mercy, must be taken to 
be unmerciful^ if he punish you after all this. Unices 
the holy God of heaven will give these wretches 
leave to trample upon his Son's blood, and with the 
Jews, as it were, again to spit in his face, and do des- 
pite to the spirit of grace, and make a jest of sin, and 
a mock at holiness, and set more hght by saving 
mercy than by the filth of their fleshly pleasures; and 
unless, after all this, he will save them by the mercy 
which they cast away, and would have none of, God 
himself must be called unmerciful by them I But he 
will be justified when he judgeth, and he will not 
etand or fall at the bar of a sinful worm, 

I know tliere are many particular cavils that are 
brought by them against the Lord ; but I shall not 
here stay to answer them particularly, having done 
it already in my Treatise of Judgment, to which I 
shall refer them. Had the disputing part of the world 
been as careful to avoid sin and destruction as they 
have been busy in searching after the cause of them, 
and forward indirectly to impute them to God, they 
might have exercised their wits more profitably, and 
have less wronged God, and sped better themselves.- 
When so ugly a monster as sin is within us, and ea 
heavy a thing as punishment is on us, and so dreadful 
a thing as hell is before us, one would think it should 
be an easy question who is in the fault ; whether God 
or mail be the principal or culpable cause ? Some 
men are such favorable judges of themselves, that 
they are more prone to accuse tlie infinite perfection 
and goodnefcs itself, than their own hearts, and imiti»,te 
12 



13'J: A CALL TO Docl. 7. 

their first parents, that said, " The serpent tempted 
me ; and tlie woman that thou gavest me gave unto 
me, and I did eat ;" secretly implying that God waa 
the cause. So say they, " The understanding that 
thou gavest me was unable to discern ; the will that 
thou gavest me was unable to make a better choice ; 
the objects which thou didst set before me did entice 
me ; the temptations which thou didst permit to assault 
me prevailed against me." And some are so loth to 
think that God can make a self-determining creature, 
that they dare not deny him that which tl>ey take to 
be his prerogative, to be the determiner of the will in 
every sin, as the first efficient immediate physical 
cause ; and many could be content to acquit Grod from 
60 much causing of evil, if they could but reconcile it 
with his being the chief cause of good ; as if truths 
would be no longer truths than we are able to see 
them in their perfect order and coherence ; because 
our ravelled wits cannot see them right together, nor 
assign each truth its proper place, we presume to con- 
clude that some must be cast away. This is the fruit 
of proud self-conceitedness, when men receive not 
God's truth as a child his lesson, in holy submission to 
the omniscience of our Teacher, but censurers that 
are too wise to learn. 

Objection. But we cannot convert ourselves till 
God convert us; we can do nothing without his 
grace; it is not in him that willeth, nor in him tliat 
runneth, but in God that showeth mcxy. 

Answ, I. Grod hath two degrees of mercy to show; 
the mercy of conversion first, and the mercy of salva- 
tion last ; the latter he will give to none but those 
that loill and imii, and hath promised it to them only. 
The former is to make them willin^f that are unw J- 



Doct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 135 

ling ; and though your own wilHngness and endeavors 
deserve not his grace, yet your wilful refusal deserveth 
that it should be denied to you. Your disabihty is 
your very unwillingness itself, which excuseth not 
your sin, but maketh it the greater. You could turn 
if you were but truly willing ; and if your wills them- 
selves are so corrupted that nothing but effectual grace 
will move them, you have the more cause to seek for 
that grace, and yield to it, and do what you can in 
the use of means, and not neglect it and set yourself 
against it. Do what you are able first, and then com- 
plain of God for denying you grace, if you have 
cause. 

Object. But you seem to intimate all this while 
that man hath free will. 

Answ. 1. The dispute about free will is beyond 
your capacity ; I shall, therefore, now trouble you with 
no more but this about it. Your will is naturally a free, 
that is, a self-determining faculty ; but it is viciously 
inclined, and backward to do good ; and therefore we 
see, by sad experience, that it hath not a virtuous 
moral freedom ; but that it is the wickedness of it 
which procures the punishment ; and I pray you let 
us not befool ourselves with opinions. Let the case be 
your own. If you had an enemy that was so mali- 
cious as to fall upon you and beat you, or take away 
the lives of your children, would you excuse him be- 
cause he said I have not free will ; it is my nature, 1 
cannot choose unless God give me grace? If you had 
a servant that robbed you, would you take such an 
answer from him ? Might not every thief and mur- 
derer that is hanged at the assize give such an an- 
swer : I have not free will ; I cannot change my own 
heart; what can I do without God's grace? and shall 



136 A CALL TO Doct. T. 

they therefore be acquitted? If not, why then should 
you think to be ax^quittcd for a course of sin against 
the Lord? 

2. From hence ab?o you may observe these three 
things together: — 1. What a subtle tempter Satan is. 
2. What a deceitful thing sin is. 3. What a foohsh 
creature corrupted man is. A subtle tempter, indeed, 
that can persuade the greatest part of the world to 
go into everlasting fire, when they have so many 
warnings and dissuasives as they have I A deceitful 
thing is sin, indeed, that can bewitch so many thou- 
sands to part with everlasting life for a thing so base 
and utterly unworthy ! A foolish creature is man, in- 
deed, that will be cheated of his salvation for nothing, 
yea, for a known nothing ; and that by an enemy, and 
a known enemy. You would think it impossible that 
any man in his wits should be persuaded for a little to 
cast himself into the fire, or water, or into a coal-pit, 
to the destruction of his life ; and yet men will be 
enticed to east themselves into hell. If your natural 
lives were in your own hands, that you should not die 
till you would kill yourselves, how long would most 
of you live 1 And yet, when your everlasting life is so 
far in your own hands, under God, that you cannot 
be undone till you undo yourselves, how few of you 
will forbear j^ur OAvn undoing? Ah, what a billy 
thing is man ! and what a bewitching and befooling 
thing is sin ! 

3. From hence, also, you may learn, that it is no 
great wonder if wicked men be hinderers of others ip 
the way to heaven, and would have as many uncon- 
verted as they can, and would draw them into sin 
and keep them in it. Can y3u expect that they 
flhouid have mercy on others, that have none upon 



Doct. Z THE UNCONVERTED. 137 

themselves? and that they should hesitate much at 
the destruction of others, that hesitate not to destroy 
themselves? They do no worse by others than they 
do by themselves. 

4. Lastly, You may hence learn that the greatest 
enemy to man is himself; and the greatest judgment 
in this life that can befall him, is to be left to him- 
self; that the great work that grace hath to do, is to 
save us from ourselves ; that the greatest accusations 
and complaints of men should be against themselves ; 
that the greatest work that we have to do ourselves, 
is to resist ourselves ; and the greatest enemy that 
we should daily pray, and watch, and strive against, 
is our own carnal hearts and wills; and the greatest 
part of your work, if you would do good to others, and 
help them to heaven, is to save them from them- 
selves, even from their blind understandings, and 
corrupted wills, and perverse affections, and violent 
passions, and unruly senses. I only name all these 
for brevity's sake, and leave them to your further 
consideration. 

Well, sirs, now we have found out the great delin • 
quent and murderer of souls, (even men's selves, their 
own wills,) what remains but that you judge accord- 
ing to the evidence, and confess this great iniquity 
before the Lord, and be humbled for it, and do so no 
more ? To these three ends distinctly, I shall add a 
few words more. L Further to convince you. 2. To 
humble you. And, 3. To reform you, if there yet 
be any hope. 

L We know so much of the exceeding gracious 

nature of God, who is willing to do good, and de- 

liglueth to show mercy, that we have no reason to 

suspect him of being the culpable cause of our death, 

12* 



138 A CALL TO Doct. 7. 

or to call him crael ; he made all good, and he pre- 
serveth and maintaineth all ; the eyes of all wait 
upon him, and he giveth them their meat in due 
season; he openeth his hand, and satisfieth the de- 
sires of all the living. Psalm 145 : 15, 16. He is not 
only righteous in all his ways, and therefore will deal 
justly ; and holy in all his works, and therefore not 
the author of sin, but he is also good to all, and his 
tender mercies are over all his works. Psalm 145 : 
17, 19. 

But a<3 for man, we know his mind is dark, his will 
perverse, and his aflections carry him so headlong, 
that he is fitted by his folly and corruption to such a 
work as the destroying of himself If you saw a 
lamb he killed in the way, would you sooner suspect 
the sheep, or the wolf to be the author of it, if they 
both stand by? Or if you see a house broken open, 
and the people murdered, would you sooner suspect 
the prince or judge, that is wise and just, and had no 
need, or a known thief or murderer ? I say, therefore, 
as James, 1 : 13 — 15, " Let no man say, when he is 
tempted, that he is tempted of God, for God cannot 
be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man, 
(to draw him to sin,) but every man is tempted when 
he is draAvn away of his own lust and enticed. Then 
when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin ; and 
sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death." You 
see here that sin is the oflspring of your own concu- 
piscence, and not to be charged on God ; and that 
death is the offspring of your own sin, and the fruit 
which it will yield you as soon as it is ripe. You 
have a treasure of evil in yourselves, as a sjuderhath 
of poison, from whence you are bringing forth hurt 
to yourselves, and spinning such webs as entangle 



Doct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 189 

your own souls. Your nature shows it is you that arc 
the cause. 

2. It is evident that you are your own destroyers, 
in that you are so ready to entertain any temptation 
almost that is offered to you. Satan is scarcely more 
ready to move you to any evil, than you are ready 
to hear, and to do as he^would have you. If he would 
tempt your understanding to error and prejudice, you 
yield. If he would hinder you from good resolutions, 
it is soon done. If he would cool any good desires or 
affections, it is soon done. If he would kindle any 
lust, or vile affections and desires in you, it is soon 
done. If he will put you on to evil thoughts, or deeds, 
you are so free that he needs no rod or spur. If he 
would keep you from holy thoughts, and words, and 
ways, a little doth it, you need no curb. You examine 
not his suggestions, nor resist them with any resolu- 
tion, nor cast them out as he casts them in, nor quench 
the sparks which he endeavoreth to kindle ; but you 
set in with him, and meet him half w^ay, and em- 
brace his motions, and tempt him to tempt you. And 
it is easy for him to catch such greedy fish that are 
ranging for a bait, and wnll take the bare hook. 

3. Your destruction is evidently of yourselves, in that 
you resist all that woiild help to save you, and would 
do you good, or hinder you from undoing yourselves. 
God would help and save you by his word, and you 
resist it ; it is too stxict for you. He w^ould sanctify 
you by his Spirit, and you resist and quench it. If 
any man reprove you for your sin, you fly in his face 
with evil words ; and if he would draw you to a holy 
life, and tell you of your present danger, you give 
l\im little thanks, but either bid him look to himself, 
he shall not answer for you ; or at best you put him ofT 



140 A CALL TO Doct.7 

with heartless thanks, and will not turn when you are 
persuaded. It" ministers would privately instruct and 
help you. you will not come to them ; your unhumbled 
souls feel but little need of their help ; if they would 
catechise you, you are too old to be catechised, though 
you are not too old to be igno:-ant and unholy. What 
ever they can say to you for your good, you are so 
self-conceited and wise in your own eyes, even in the 
depth ot" ignorance, that you will regard nothing that 
agreeth not with your present conceits, but contradict 
your teachers, as if you were wiser than they ; you 
resist all tliat they can say to you, by your ignorance, 
and wilfulness, and foolish cavils, and shifting eva- 
sions, and unthankful rejections, so that no good that 
is offered can find any welcome acceptance and enter- 
tainment with you. 

4. Moreover, it is apparent that you are self-de- 
stroyers, in that you " draw the matter of your sin 
and destruction even from the blessed God himself." 
You like not the contrivances of his wisdom ; you 
like not his justice, but take it for cruelty ; you like 
not his holiness, but are ready to think he is such a 
one as yourselves, (Psalm 1 : 21.) and makes as Ight 
of sin as you do ; you like not his truth, but would 
have his threatenings, even his peremptory threaten- 
ings. prove false ; and his goodness, which you seem 
irK)st highly to approve, you partly resist, as it would 
lead you to repentance ; and partly abuse, to the 
strengthening of your sin, as if you might more free- 
ly sin because God is merciftil, and because his grace 
dotli GO much abound, 

5. Vea, you fetch destruction I'rom the blessed Re- 
deemer, and death from the Lord of life himself! and 
no-j^irig more emboldeneth you in sin, than tliat 



Ooct, 7. THE CNCONVERTEB. 141 

Christ liath died for you; as if now the danger of 
death were over, and you might boldly venture ; as 
if Christ were become a serv'ant to satan and your 
eins, and must wait upon you while you ai-e abusing 
him ; and because he is become the Physician of souls, 
and is able to save to tlie uttermost all that come to 
God by him, you think he must suffer you to refuse 
iais help, and throw away his medicines, and must 
eave you whether you will come to God by him or 
not: so that a great part of your sins are occasioned 
by your bold presumption upon the death of Christ, 
not coasidering that he came to redeem his people 
from their sins, and to sanctify them a pecuhar people 
to himself, and to conform them in holiness to the 
image of their heavenly Father, and to their head- 
Matt. 1 : 21 ; Tit. 2 : 14 ; 1 Pet. 1 : 15, 16 ; Col. 3 : IQ, 
11; Phil. 3:9, 10. 

6, You also fetch your own de^ruetion fi-om all tlie 
providences and works of God. When you think of 
his eternal fore-lmowledge and decrees, it is to harden 
you in your sin, or possess }'our minds with quarrel- 
ling thoughts, as if his decrees might spare you the 
labor of repentance and a holy life, or else v,'ere the 
cause o[ sin and deatli. If he afflict you. you repine; 
it^ he pi-osper you, you the more forget him, and are 
the more backward to the thoughts of the life to come. 
If the wicked prosper, you forget the end that will set 
all reckonings straight, and are ready to think it is as 
good to be wicked as godly ; and thus you draw your 
death from all 

7. And the hke you do from all tlie creatures and 
mercies of God to you. He givetli them to you as 
the tokens of his love and furniture for his service, 
and you turn them against him, to the pleasing oC 



142 A CALL TO Doct. 7 

your flesh. You eat and drink to please your appe- 
tite, and not for the glory of God, and to enable you 
to perform his work. Your clothes you abuse to 
pride; your richco draw your hearts from heaven; 
(Phil. 3 : 18 ;) your honors and applause puff you up , 
if you have health and etrength, it makes you more 
secure, and forget your end. Yea, other men's mercies 
are abused by you to your hurt. If you see their ho- 
nors and dignity, you are provoked to envy them ; if 
you see their riches, you are ready to covet them ; if 
you look upon beauty, you are stirred up to lust ; and 
it is well if godliness itself be not an eye-sore to you. 

8. The very gifts that God bestoweth on you, and 
the ordinances of grace which he hath instituted for 
his church, you turn to sin. If you have better parts 
than others, you grow proud and self-conceited ; if you 
liave but common gifts, you take them for special 
grace. You take the bare hearing of your duty for 
eo good a work, as if it would excuse you for not obey- 
ing it. Your prayers are turned into sin, because you 
" regard iniquity in your hearts," (Psalm 66 : 18,) 
and depart not from iniquity when you call on the 
name of the Lord. 2 Tim. 2 : 19. Your " prayers 
are abominable, because you turn away your ear 
from hearing the law," (Prov. 28 : 9,) and are more 
ready to offer the sacrifice of fools, thinking you do 
God some special service, than to hear his word and 
obey it. Eccles. 5:1. 

9. Yea, the persons that you converse with, and all 
their actions, you make the occasions of your sin and 
destruction. If they live in the fear of God, you hate 
them. If they live ungodly, you imitate them ; if the 
wicked are many, you think you may the more boldly 
follow them j if the godly be few, you are the more 



Doct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 143 

emboldened to daspise them. If they walk exactly, 
you think they are too precise ; if one of them fall in 
a particular temptation you stumble and turn away 
from hohness because that others are imperfectly 
holy ; as if you were warranted to break your necks 
because some others have by their heedlessness strain- 
ed a sinew, or put out a bone. If a hypocrite discover 
himself, you say, " They are all alike," and think 
yourselves as honest as the best. A professor can 
scarce slip into any miscarriage, but because he cuts 
his finger you think you may boldly cut your throats. 
If ministers deal plainly with you, you say they rail. 
If they speak gently or coldly, you eitlier sleep under 
them, or are little more affected than the seats you 
sit upon. If any errors creep into the church, some 
greedily entertain them, and others reproach the 
Christian doctrine for them, which is most against 
them. And if we would draw you from any ancient 
rooted error, which can but plead two, or three, or six, 
or seven hundred years' custom, you are as much 
offended with a motion for reformation as if you were 
to lose your Ufe by it, and hold fast old errors, while 
you cry out against new ones. Scarce a difference 
can arise among the ministers of the Gospel, but you 
will fetch your own death from it 5 and you will not 
hear, or at least not obey, the unquestionable doctrine 
jf any of those that agree not with your conceits. One 
will not hear a minister because he saith tlie Lord's 
prayer ; and another will not hear him because he 
<loth not use it. One will not hear them that are for 
episcopacy ; and another will not hear them that are 
against it. And thus I might show it you in many 
other cases, how you turn all that comes near you to 
vour own destraction ; so clear is it that the ungodly 



Mi A CALL TO Dbct. 7. 

arc self destroyers, and that their perdition ic oi' 
themselves. 

Methinks now^ upon the consideration of what ia 
gaid, and the review of your own ways, you should 
bethink you what you have done, and be ashamed 
and deeply Immbled to remember it. If you be not, J 
pray you consider these following truths : 

1. To be your own destroyers is to sin against the 
deepest principle in your natures, even the principle 
of self-preservation. Everything naturally desireth 
typ inelineth to its own felicity, welfare, or perfection , 
and will you set yourselves to your own destruction'/ 
When you are commanded to love your neighbors as 
yourselves, it is supposed that you naturally love your- 
selves ; but if you love your neighbore no better than 
yourselves, it seems you would have all the world to 
be damned. 

2. How extremely do you cross your own inter>- 
tions 1 I know you intend not your own damnation, 
even when you are procuring it ; you think you a»rff 
but doing good to yourselves, by gratifying the de- 
sires of your flesh. But, alas, it is but as a draught 
of cold water in a burning fever, or as the scratching 
of an itching wild-fire, which increaseth the disease 
and pain^ If indeed you would have pleasure, profit^ 
or honor, seek them where they are to be fom\d, and 
do not hunt after them in the way to hell. 

3. What pity is it that you should do that against 
5^ourselves which none else on earth or in hell can do I 
If aM the world were combined against you, or all the 
devils in hell were combined against you, they could 
not destroy you without yo'jrselvcvs, nor make yr*i sin 
l)ut by your own consent : and will you do thai against 
r, ourscclvc^i which no one else can do? Youhaai nate- 



^oct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 145 

ful ihoughts of the devil, because he is your enemy, 
mm endeavoreth your destruction ; and will you be 
worse than devils to yourselves? Why thus it is with 
y^u, if you had hearts to understand it : when you 
run into sin, and run from godliness, and refuse to 
turn at the call of God, you do more against your own 
souls than men or devils could do besides ; and if you 
should set yourselves and bend your wits to do your- 
selves the greatest mischief, you could not devise to 
do a greater. 

4. You arc false to the trust that God hath reposed 
in you. He hath much intiTisted you with your own 
salvation ; and will you betray your tmst ? He hath 
set you, with all diligence, to keep your hearts; and 
is this the keeping of them ? Prov. 4 : 23. 

5. You do even forbid all others to pity you, when 
you will have no pity on yourselves. If you cry to 
God in the day of your calamity ibr mercy, mercy ; 
what can you expect, but that he should thrust you 
away, and say, '• Nay, thou wouldst not have mercy 
on thyself; Avho brought this upon thee but thy own 
v.'ilful'<ess?'' And if your brethren see you everlast- 
ingly in misery, how shall they ])ity you that were 
your ovm destroyers, and would not be dissuaded ? 

6. It Avill everlastingly make you your own tor- 
mentors in hell, to think that you brought yourselves 
wilfully to that misery. O what a piercing thouglit 
it will be for ever to think with yourselves that this 
was your own doing ! that you were v/arned of this 
day, and warned again, but it would not do ; that you 
wilfully sinned, and wilfully turned away from God ! 
that you had time as v/ell as others, but you abused 
U ; you had teachers as Avell as others, but you re 
fused tlieir instruction ; you had holy examytlos, but 

13 



146 A CALL TO Doct. 1 

you did not imitate them ; you were ofiered Christ, 
and grace, and glory, as well as othei-s, but you had 
more mind of your fleshly pleasures ! you had a pricti 
in your hands, but you Lad not a heart to lay it out. 
Prov. 17 : IG. Can it fail to torment you to think of 
this your present folly ? O that your eyes -.vere open 
to see what you have done in the wilful wronging of 
your own souls ! and that you better understood these 
words of God. Prov. 8 : 33, 36, " Hear instmction 
and be wise, and refuse it not. Blessed is the man 
that heareth me, Avatchin^ daily at my gates, wait- 
ing at the posts of my doors : for whoso findeth me 
findeth life, and shall obtain iiivor of the Lord. But 
he that sinneth against me, wrongeth his own soul. 
All they that hate me love decth." 

And now I am come to the conclusion of this work, 
my heart is troubled to think how I shall leave you, 
lest after this the flesh should still deceive you, and 
the world and the devil should keep you asleep, and I 
should leave you as I found you, till you awake in 
hell. Though in care of your poor souls, I am afraid 
of this, as knowing the obstinacy of a carnal heart ; 
yet I can say with the prophet Jeremiah, (17 : 16,) 



" fire might come from heaven" to consume them that 
refused Jesus Christ. Luke, 9 : 54. But it is the pre- 
venting of the eternal fire that 1 have been all this 
while endeavoring : and O that it had been a need- 
less work! That God and conscience might Jiave 
been as willing to spare me this labor as some of you 
could have been. Dear friends, I am so lotli tliat you 
should he in everlastiiiir fire, and be shut out of hea* 



Doct. T. THE UNCONVERTED. 147 

ven, if it be possible to prevent it, tl.at I shall once 
more ask you, what do you now resolve ? Will you 
turn, or die ? I look upon you as a physician on his 
patient, in a dangerous disease, that saith to him, 
" Though you are far gone, take but this medicine^ 
and forbear but those li3w things that are hurtful to 
you, and I dare warrant your hfe ; but if you will not 
do this you are but a dead man." What would you 
think of such a man, if tlie physician, and all the 
friends he hath, cannot persuade liim to take one me- 
dicine to save his life, or to forbear one or two poison- 
ous things that would Idll him? This is your case. 
As far as you are gone in sin, do but now turn and 
come to Christ, and take his remedies, and yuur souls 
shall live. Cast up your deadly sins by repentance, 
and return not to the poisonous vomit any more, and 
you shall do well. But yet, if it were your bodies 
that we had to deal with, w^e might partly know 
wliat to do for you. Though you would not consent, 
yet you might be held or bound while the medicine 
were poureci uoV/:;^ your throats, and hurtful things 
might be kept from you. But about your souls it can- 
not be so ; we cannot convert you against your wills. 
There is no carrying madmen to heaven in fetters. 
You may be condemned against your wills, because 
you sinned with your wills ; but you cannot be saved 
against your wills. The wisdom of God has thought 
meet to lay men's salvation or destruction exceed- 
ingly much upon the choice of their own wall, that 
no man shall come to heaven that chose not the way 
to heaven ; and no man shall come to hell, but shall 
be forced to say, " I have the thing I chose, my own 
wnll did bring me hither." Now, if I could but get you 
to be willing, to be thoroughly, and resolvedl}^, anJ 



148 A CALL TO ^"ct. 7. 

liabitually willing, the work Avcre more than half 
(lone. And alas ! must we lose our friends, and must 
they lose their God, their happine^.s their souls, for 
Avantofthis? O God forbid! It is a strange thing 
to me that men are so inhuman and stupid in the 
greatest matters, who in lesser things are civil and 
courteous, and good neighbors. For aught I know, I 
liave the love of all, or almost all my neighbors, so 
far, that if I should send to any man in the town, or 
parish, or country, and request c reasonable cou^tet^y 
of them, they would grant it me ; and yet when I 
come to request of them the greatest matter in the 
world, for themselves, and not for me, I can have no- 
thing of many of them but a patient hearing. I knov,r 
not whether people think a man in the pulpit is in 
good earnest or not, and means as he speaks ; for I 
think I have few neighbors, but, if I were sitting fa- 
miliarly with them, and telling them Avhat I have 
seen and done, or knov/n in the world, they them- 
selves shall see and know in the world to come, they 
would believe me, and regard what I say; but when 
1 tell them, from the infallible word of God, what they 
themselves shall see and know in the world to come, 
they show, by their lives, that they do either not be- 
lieve it or not much regard it. If I met any one o{ 
them on the way, and told them yonder is a coal-pit, 
01 there is a quicksand, or there are thieves lying in 
wait for you, I could persuade them to turn by; but 
when I tell them that satan lieth in wait for them, 
and that sin is poison to them, and that hell is not a 
matter to be jested with, they go on as if they did not 
iiear me. Tmly. neighbors, I am in as good earnest 
with you in the pulpit as I am in my familiar dis- 
course; and if ever you will regard me, I beseech 



Doct 7. THE UNCOiN VERTED. 149 

you let it be here. I think there is not a man of you 
ali, but, if my own soul he at your wills, you would 
be willing to save it, though I cannot promise that 
yon would leave your sins for it. Tell me, thou 
drunkard, art thou so cruel to me, that thou wouldst 
not forbear a few cups of drink, if thou knewest it 
would save mj- soul Irom hell ? Hadst thou rather 
that I did burn there for ever than thou shouldst live 
soberly as other men do ? If so, may I not say, thou 
art an unmerciful monster, and not a man '? If I came 
hungry or naked to one of your doors, would you not 
part with more than a cup- of drink to relieve me? I 
am confident you would. If it were to save my hfe, 
I knmv you would, some of you, hazard your own ; 
and yet will you not be entreated to part with your 
sensual pleasures for your own salvation ^ Wouldst 
thou forbear a hundred cups of drink to save my life, 
if it were in thy power, and wilt thou not do it to save 
thy own soul ? 1 profess to )-ou, sirs, I am as hearty a 
beggar with yoa this day for the saving of your own 
souls, as I would be for my oAvn supply, if I were 
forced to come begging to j-our doors ; and therefore 
if you would hear me then, hear me now. If you 
would pity me then, be entreated now to pity your- 
selves. I do again beseech yon, as if it were on my 
bended knees, that you would hearken to your Re- 
deemer, and turn, that you may live. All you that 
have lived in ignorance, and carelessness, and pre- 
sumption, to this day ; all you that have been drowned 
in the cares of the world, and have no mind of God, 
and eternal glory ; all you that are enslaved to your 
fleshly desires of meats and drink?, sports and lusts; 
and all you that know not the necessity of holiness, 
and never were acquainted with the sanctifying work 
13* 



150 A CALL TO Doct. 7. 

of the Holy Ghost upon your fiouls; that never em- 
braced your blessed Redeemer by a hvcly laith, and 
with admirincT and thanklul apprehensions ofhis love; 
and that never felt a higher estimation of God and 
lioaven, and heartier love to them than your flesldy 
prosperity, and the things below ; I earnestly beseech 
you, not only for my sake, but for the Lord's sal<e, 
and for your soul's sake, that you go not one day 
longer in your former condition, but look about you, 
{ind cry to God for converting grace, that you nriay 
he made new creatures, and may escape the plagues 
that are a little before you. And if ever you will do 
any thing for me, grant me this request, to turn from 
your evil ways and live. Deny me any thing that 
ever I shall ask you for myself, if you will but grant 
me this ; and if you deny me this, I care not for any 
tiling else that you would grant me. Nay, as ever 
you will do any thing at the request of the Lord that 
made you, and died that you may live, deny him not 
this ; for if you deny him this, he cares for nothing 
that you shall grant him. As ever you would have 
him hear your prayers, and grant your requests, and 
do for you at the hour of death and day of judgment, 
or in any of your extremities, deny not his request 
now in the day of your prosperity. O sirs, believe it, 
death and judgment, and heaven and hell, a-e other 
matters when you come near them, than they seem 
to carnal eyes afar off: then you would hear such a 
message as I bring you with more awakened regard- 
ful hearts. 

Weil, though I cannot hope so well of all, I will 
hope that some of you are by this time purposing to 
turn and live; and that vou are ready to ask me, as 
the Jews did Peter, (A-?is *^ •■ 37,) when they were 



Doct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED, 151 

pricked in tlicir l]earts,aiid said, '• Men and brethren, 
what shall we do ?" How may we come to be truly- 
converted ? We are willing, if we did but know our 
duty. God forbid that we should choose destruction 
by refusing conversion, as hitherto we have done. 

If these be the thoughts and purposes of your 
hearts, I say of you as God did of a promising peo- 
ple, (Deut. 5 : 28, 29,) " They have well said all that 
they have spoken : O that there was such a heart in 
them, that they would fear me, and keep all my 
commandments always !" Your purposes are good: 
O that there were but a heart in you to perform these 
purposes ! And in hope hereof I shall gladly give you 
direction what to do, and that but briefly, that you 
may the easier remember it for your practice. 

Direction I. — If you would be converted and 
saved, labor to understand the necessity and true na- 
ture of conversion ; for what, and from what, and to 
what, and by what it is that you must turn. 

Consider in what a lamentable condition you are 
till the hour of your conversion, that you may see it 
is not a state to be rested in. You are under the guilt 
of all the sins that ever you committed, and under 
the wrath of God, and the curse of his law ; you are 
bond slaves to the devil, and daily employed in his 
work against the Lord, yourselves, and others; you 
are spiritually dead and deformed, as being devoid of 
the holy life, and nature, and image of the Lord. 
You are unfit for any holy work, and do nothing that 
is truly pleasing to God. You are without any pro- 
mise or assurance of his protection, and live in con- 
tinual danger of his justice, not knowing what hour 
you may be snatched away to hell, and most certain 



152 A CALL TO Doct. 7. 

to be lost if you die in tiiat condition ; and nothing 
short of conversion can prevent it. Whatever civili- 
ties or amendments arc short of true conversion, will 
never procure the saving of your souls. Keep the 
true sense of this natural misery, and so cf the neces- 
sity of conversion on your hearts. 

And then you must understand what it is u. be 
converted ; it is to have a new heart or disposition, 
and a new conversation. 

Quest. 1. For what must we turn? 

A72SW. For these ends following, which you may 
attain: 1. You shall immediately be made hving 
members of Christ, and have an interest in him, and 
be renewed after the image of God, a.nd be adorned 
with all his graces, and quickened with a new and 
heavenly life, and saved from the tyranny of Satan, 
and the dominion of sin, and be justified by the curse 
of the law, and have the pardon of all the sins ot 
your whole lives, and be accepted of God, and made 
his sons, and have liberty with boldness to call him 
Father, and go to him by prayer in all your needs, 
with a promise of acceptance; you shall have the 
Holy Ghost to dwell in you, to sanctify and guide 
you ; you shall have part in the brotherhood, commu- 
nion, and prayers of the saints ; you shall be fitted 
for God's service, and be freed from the dominion of 
sin, and be useful, and a blessing to the place where 
you live ; and shall have the promise of this life, and 
that which is to come : you shall want nothing that 
is tmly good for you, and your necessary afllictioas 
you will be enabled to bear ; you may have some 
taste of communion with God in the Spirit, especially 
in all holy ordinances, where God prepareth a feast 
for your souls ; you shall be heirs of heaven while 



Doct. 7, THE UNCOiWERTED. 153 

you live on earth, and may foresee by faith the ever- 
lafc:ting glory, and so may hve and die in peace ; and 
you shall never be so low but your happiness will be 
incomparably greater than your misery. 

How precious is every one of these blessings, Avhich 
I do ])ut briefly name, and which in this life you may 
receive I 

And then, 2. At death your souls shall go to Christ, 
and at the day of judgment both soul and body shall 
be glorified and justified, and enter into your Master'? 
joy, where your happiness will consist in these par- 
ticulars : 

1. You shall be perfected j'ourselves ; your mortal 
bodies sliall be made immortal, and the corruptible 
fihall put on mcorruption ; you shall no more be hun- 
gry, or thirsty, or w^eary, or sick, nor shall you need 
lo fear either sham.e, or sorrow, or death, or hell ; your 
souls shall be perfectly freed from sin, and perfectly 
fitted for the knowledge, and love, and praises of the 
Lord. 

2. Your emp'Oj^ment shall be to behold your glori- 
fied Redeemer, with all your holy fellow citizens of 
heaven, and to see the glory of tlie most blessed God, 
and to love him perfectly, and be beloved by him, and 
to praise him everlastingl}^ 

3. Your glory will contribute to the glory of the 
New Jerusalem, the city of the living God, which is 
more tJian to have a private felicity to yourselves. 

4. Your glory will contribute to the glorifying of 
your Redeemer, w-ho will everlastingly be magnified 
and pleased in that you are the travail of his soul, 
and this is more than the glorifying of yourselves. 

5. And the eternal Majesty, the hving God, will 
be glorified in your glory, both as he is magnified by 



154 A CALL TO Doct. 7 

yoar pral.set:, and as he conimunicateth of liis glory 
and goodness to you, and as he is pleased in you, and 
in the accomplishment of his glorious work, in tlie 
glory of the New Jerusalem, and of his Son. 

All this the poorest beggar of you that is converted 
shall certainly and endlessly enjoy. 

II. You see for what you must turn: next you 
must understandyro7?i what you nmst turn ; and thii 
is, in a word, from your carnal self, wdiich is the end 
of all the unconverted : — from the flesh that would be 
pleased before Grod, and would still be enticing you ; — ■ 
from the w^orld, that is the bait; and from the devil, 
that is the angler for souls, and the deceiver. And so 
from all known and wilful sins. 

III. Next you must know to what end you must 
turn ; and that is, to Grod as your end ; to Christ as 
the way to the Father ; to holiness as the way ap- 
pointed you by Christ; and to the use of all the helps 
and means of grace atforded you by the Lord. 

IV. Lastly; you must know by what you must 
turn ; and that is by Christ, as the only Redeemer 
and Intercessor; and by the Holy Ghost, as the 
Sanctifier; and by the word, as his instrument or 
means; and by faith and repentance, as the means 
and duties on your part to be performed. All this is 
of necessity. 

Direction II. — If you will be converted and saved, 
be much in serious secret consideration. Incoaside- 
rateness undoes the world. Withdraw yourselves oft 
into retired secrecy, and there bethink you of the 
end why you were made, of the life you have lived, 
of the time you have lost, the sins you have commit- 
ted ; of the love, and sufferings, and fulness of Christ; 



t)oct. 7. THE UMCONVERTED. 155 

or the danger you are in ; of the nearness of death 
and judgment ; oi' the certainty and excellency of the 
joys of heaven ; and of the certainty and terror of the 
torments of hell, and the eternity of both ; and of the 
necessity of con\^ersion and a holy life. Absorb your 
hearts in such considerations as these. 

Direction IIL — If you will be converted and saved, 
attend upon the word of God, which is the ordinary 
means. Read the Scripture, or hear it read, and 
other holy writings that do apply it; constantly 
attend on the public preaching of the word. As God 
will light the world by the sua, and not by himselt' 
without it, so will he convert and save men by his 
ministers, who are the lights of the world. Acts. 
26 : 17, 18. Matt. 5 : 14. When he had miraculously 
humbled Paul, he sent Ananias to him, (Acts, 9 : 10,) 
and when he had sent an angel to Cornelius, it was 
but to bid him send for Peter, who must tell Inm what 
to believe and do. 

Direction IV. — Betake yourselves to God in a 
course of earnest constant prayer. Confess and la- 
ment yourform.er lives, eaid beg his grace to illuminate 
and convert you. Beseech him to pardon what is past, 
and to give you his Spirit, and change your hearts 
and lives, and lead you in his ways, and save you 
Irom temptation. Pursue this work daily, and be not 
weary of it. 

Direction V. — Presently give over your Imown 
and wdful sins. Make a stand, and go that way no 
tart her. Be dmnk no more, but avoid the very occa- 
sion of it. Cast away your lusts and sinful pleasures 



156 A CALL TO Doct.7, 

with detestation. Curse, and swear, and rail no more ; 
and if you have Avrouged any, restore, as Zaccheus 
did; if you will commit again your old sins, what 
blessing can you expect on tlie means lor conversion ? 

Direction VI. — Presently, if possible, change your 
company, if it hath hitherto been bad ; not by for- 
saking your necessary relations, but your unneces- 
sary sinful companions; and join yourselves will, 
those that fear the Lord, and inquire of them the 
way to heaven. Acts, 9 : 19, 26. Psalm 15 : 4. 

Direction VII. — Deliver up yourselves to the Lord 
Jesus, as the physician of your souls, that he may 
pardon you by his blood, and sanctify you by his 
Spirit, by his word and ministers, the instruments ot 
the Spirit. He is the way, the tmth, and the life ; 
there is no coming to the Father but by him. John, 
14 : 6. Nor is there any other name under heaven 
by which you can be saved. Acts, 4 : 12. Study, 
therefore, his person and natures, and what he hath 
done for you, and what he is to you, and what he 
will be, and how he is fitted to the full supply of all 
your necessities. 

Direction VIII. — If you mean indeed to turn and 
live, do it speedily, without delay. If you be not will- 
ing to turn to-day, you are not willing to do it at alL 
Remember, you are all this while in your blood, un- 
der the guilt of many thousand sins, and under God's 
wrath, and you stand at the very brink of hell ; there 
is but a step between you and death : and this is no*. 
a case for a man that is well in his wits to be quiet in. 
Up therefore presently, and fly as for your lives, as 



Doct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 157 

you would be gone out of your house if it were all on 
fire over your head. O, if you did but know in what 
continual danger you live, and what daily unspeak- 
able loss you sustain, and what a safer and sweeter 
life you might live, you would not stand trifling, but 
presently turn. Multitudes miscarry that wilfully de- 
lay when they are convinced that it must be done. 
Your lives are short and uncertain ; and what a case 
are you in if you die before you thoroughly turn ! Ye 
have staid too long already, and wronged God too 
long. Sin getteth strength while you delay. Your 
conversion will grow more hard and doubtful. You 
have much to do, and therefore put not all ofTto the last, 
lest God forsake you, and give you up to yourselves, 
and then you are imdone for ever. 

Direction IX. — If you will turn and live, do it un- 
reservedly, absolutely, and universally. Think not 
to capitulate with Christ, and divide your heart be- 
tween him and the world ; and to part with some sins 
and keep the rest ; and to let that go which your flesh 
can spare. This is but self-deluding; you must in 
heart and resolution forsake all that you have, or else 
you cannot be his disciples. Luke, 14 : 26, 33. If you 
will not take GJod and heaven for your portion, and 
lay all below at the feet of Christ, but you must needs 
also have your good things here, and have an earthly 
portion, and God and glory are not enough for you ; 
it is vain to dream of salvation on these terms ; for it 
will not be. If you seem never so religious, if yet it 
be but a carnal righteousness, and if the flesh's pros- 
perity, or pleasure, or safety, be still excepted in your 
devotedness to God, this is as certain a way to death 
as open profaneness, though it be more plausible. 
14 



158 A CALL TO Doct. 7. 

Direction X. — If you will turn and live, do it re- 
solvedly, and stand not still deliberating, as if it were 
a doubtful case. Stand not wavering, as if you were 
uncertain whether God or the flesh be the better mas- 
ter, or whether sin or holiness be the better way, or 
whether heaven or hell be the better end. But away 
with your former lusts, and presently, habitually, 
fixedly resolve. Be not one day of one mind, and the 
next day of another ; but be at a point with all the 
world, and resolvedly give up yourselves and all you 
have to God. Now, while you are reading, or hear- 
ing this, resolve ; before you sleep another night, re- 
solve ; before you stir from the place, resolve ; before 
eatan have time to take you off, resolve. You never 
turn indeed till you do resolve, and that with a firm 
unchanfireable resolution. 



And now I have done my part in this work, that 
you may turn to the call of God, and live. What will 
become of it I cannot tell. I have cast the seed at 
God's command ; but it is not in my power to give 
the increase. I can go no further with my message ; 
I cannot bring it to your heart, nor make it work ; I 
cannot do your parts for you to entertain it and con- 
eider it ; nor can I do God's part, by opening your 
heart to entertain it ; nor can I show heaven or hell 
to your sight, nor give you new and tender hearts. If 
I knew what more to do for your conversion, I hope I 
should do it. 

But O thou that art the gracious Father of spirits, 
thou hast sworn thou delightest not in the death of 
the wicked, but rather tliat they turn and live ; deny 



Doct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 159 

not thy blessing to these persuasions and directions, 
and suffer not thine enemies to triumph in thy sight, 
and the great deceiver of souls to prevail against thy 
Son, thy Spirit, and thy Word I O pity poor uncon- 
verted sinners, that have no hearts to pity or help 
themselves ! Command the blind to see, and the 
deaf to hear, and the dead to live, and let not sin and 
death be able to resist thee. Awaken the secure, re- 
solve the unresolved, confirm the wavering ;^ and let 
the eyes of sinners, that read these lines, be next em- 
ployed in weeping over their sins, and bring them to 
themselves, and to thy Son, before their sins have 
brought them to peidition. If thou say but the word, 
these poor endeavors shh.l\ prosper to the winning ot 
many a soul to their eve pasting joy, and thine ever- 
lasting glory. — Amen. 



THE 



DYING THOUGHTS 



/ 



REV. RICHARD BAXTER. 



ABRIDGED BV 



BENJAMIN FAWCETT, M. A, 



PUBLISHED BY THE 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

HO. ISO NASSAU STREET, NEW-YORK* 



D. Fanshaw, Printer. 



PREFACE 



COMPILER OF THIS ABRIDGMENT. 



In the following pages the reader will find none 
of the triumphs peculiar to martyrdom, nor any of 
those ecstasies which have distinguished some par- 
ticular Christians on their dying beds. Some extra- 
ordinary cases rather excite our joyful surprise, than 
are patterns for our imitation. 

The " Dying Thoughts " of Mr. Baxter chiefly 
present to our view what every Christian may attain, 
and what it is the highest interest as well as the in- 
dispensable duty of every Christian to aspire after. 
See here his doubts and fears in the prospect of eter- 
nity; though he had spent a long life in exemplary 
holiness, and in great nearness to God and heaven. 
See his jealousies over his own heart, and anxious 
concern to discover his sincerity; together with his 
sober appeals and earnest attention to every dictate 
of reason and Scripture, in order to establish his 
mind and conscience in a well grounded peace. See, 
also, his unwearied striving with God and his OAvn 
soul to have his grace in vigorous exercise. All 



IV PREFACE. 

these are well known ingredients of the Christian 
temper ; and therefore tend, not to perplex and dis- 
courage, but to counsel, strengthen, and comfort 
serious readers, while they discern, in one of Mr. 
Baxter's exalted attainments, the same conflicts, 
complaints, and desires, which fill their own breasts. 

It is observed of Lord William Russell, who 
died a martyr for the liberty of his country, that a 
little before his death, by a trusty messenger, he 
sent Mr. Baxter his hearty thanks for his Dying 
Thoughts, "which," says he, "have made me better 
acquainted with the other world than I was before ; 
and have not a little contributed to my support and 
relief, and to the fitting me for what I am to go 
through." 

Though the Dying Thoughts were written about 
forty years after the Saints' Rest, yet both are evi- 
dently built on the same principles, and are animated 
by the same spirit. And let it sufHce to add, that 
the abridgment of both is conducted in the same 
manner. 

B. Fawcett. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

WHAT THERE IS DESIRABLE IN' THE PRESENT LIFE ... P. 7 

Tlie vanity of i.ian as mortal. The author's design to speak only to hinj- 
Belf; with a general plan of the work. The apostle's happiness whe- 
ther in living or dying- The present life is desirahle, 1. to please God ; 
2. to secure our own salvation ; 3. to do good to others. Minding the 
life to come is not the whole of religion. The Old Testament sninta 
duly regarded tha present life. The author is thankful for present 
mercies to himself, his friends, and country ; especially for his useful- 
ness in the church. He desires to improve the remainder of life, and 
rejoices in his happy situation. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE NECESSITY AND REASONABLENESS OF BELIEVING THAT PIOU.? 
SEPARATE SPIRITS ARE WITH CHRIST 21 

I. Such faith is necessary, 1. to ascertain the design of life; 2. to excitn 
to holiness; 3. to make us know, value, and improve our mercies; 4. 
and to comfort us under sufferings. II. Such faith is reasonable, he- 
ca'ise, 1. the soul is inriiortal; 2. this immortality is the dictate of na- 
ture; 3. every man ought to seek happiness; 4. men and brutes differ 
In the knowledge of God imd futurity; 5 God is a just governor; G. 
and there is a gospel revelation : also because, 7. of God's regard to 
prayer; 8. t!ie mini«;trHtion of angels ; 9. Satan's temptations ; 10. and 
especially tlie sanctifying influences of the Holy Spirit. The author 
inculcates these considerations upon himself, in order to strengthen his 
own failli. 

CHAPTER III. 

WHAT IT IS TO DEPART AND TO BR WITH CHRIST . ... 43 

I. To be with Christ includes, ). his presence; 2. union to him; 3. com- 
munion with him, and with hi? glorified saints. II. In order to be witli 
Christ, we must depart, I . fron> the body ; 2 from former bodily en- 
joyments ; and, 3. from the more rational pleasures of learning, friend- 
ship, means of grace, and acquaintance with worldly affairs. I'he 
1* 



VI C0NTENT3I. 

author has no fftar that the church will want him. Desires chiefly to 
submit to a separation from tlic body, und laments his soul's attach- 
meut to llesh and sense. 



CHAPTER IV. 

WHY IT IS FAR BETTER TO BE WITH CHRIST G6 

It is far better, considering, 1. our preparation for it, by the Father's 
love, the Son's purchase, and the Spirit's influences ; by God's word, 
ordinances, and providences: and by various other means. 2. Ft is the 
end of ail our preparations. 3. It perfects our knowledge of God and 
hi« wor'Ks; of Clirist, and redemption by him ; of heaven and Scriptuic; 
of Providence, of ourselves, of our fellow-creatures, and of our enemies, 
sins, and dangers. 4. It perfects our will, conforming it to the will of 
God, and fixing it in liis love. The author triumphs in the prospect of 
Fuch hnppincss; traces it from God's love as the fountain ; through tiie 
love of ('lirist as the ciiannel; and through angels and saints as suitor- 
dinate channels. 5. It perfects also our activit}' in doing good, particu. 
larly in praising God and Christ, and in bcneficeuce to inferior crca- 
turcf* 

CHAPTER V. 

THE AUTHOR BREATHES AFTER WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, AND TO 
BE WITH CHRIST 99 

Lamenting t'le incfficacy of his convictions, he begs divine teaching; 
argues against his doubts and fi-ars; desires a heavenly temper ; then 
excites his faith, viewing its support from reason, from experionce, and 
pleading the promises. 2. He next excites his hope; views its prr-pa- 
ration.*, anil pleaJs it in prayer. 3. He al.-^o excites his love; consider? 
its pxcellt^ncies ; prays for its increa-c; contemplates the perfection o< 
heavenly love; is jealous of his own love ; enumcrutes tho evidence! oi 
God's lovu, and prays for its full discovery. 



DYING THOUGHTS. 



PHILIPPIANS, 1 : 23. 

For I am in a strait hetwixt two, having a desire io de* 
part, and to be vjith Christ ; which is far better. 



What there is desirable in the present life. 

** Man that is born of a woman is of few days 
and full of trouble : he cometh forth like a flovrer, 
and is cut down : he ileeth also as a shadow, and 
continueth not." "And dost thou open thine 
eyes upon such an one, and bringest me into judg- 
ment with thee?" As a watch when it is wound 
up, or as a candle newly lighted ; so man, newly 
conceived or born, begins a motion which inces- 
santly hastes to its appointed period. And as an 
action, or the tim.e of it, is nothing when it is past ; 
so vain a thing would man be, and so vain is life, 
were it not for the hopes of a more durable life 
with which this is connected. But tliose hopes, 
and the means for supporting them, do not only 
distinguish a believer from an infidel, but a maji 
from a beast. When Solomon describes the dif- 
ference only in respect to time and the things of 
time, he well observes, that one event happening 
to botii, shows that both are vanity. And Paul 
says of Christians, " If in this life only we have 



8 WHAT TUCKE IS DESIRABLE [Chap. 1 

hope, we are of all men most miserable." Though 
even in this life^ as related to a better ^ and as we 
ourselves are exercised about things of a higher 
nature than the concerns of a temporal life, we 
are far happier than the men of the world. 

I am intending to speak to none but myself, and 
therefore (supposing the meaning of the text to be 
duly ascertained) shall only observe what is use- 
ful tc my own heart and practice. In this chapter 
I will consider — \Yhat there is desirable in the pre- 
sent life : then show, chapter second — The neces- 
sity and reasonableness of believing that pious 
separate spirits are with Christ : next explain, 
chapter third — What it is to depart, and to be with 
(/hrist: and chapter fourth — Why it is far better 
to be with him. I will conclude chapter fifth with 
expressing — My concern that I myself may be will- 
ing to depart, and to be with Christ. 

It was a happy state into which grace had brought 
the apostle, who saw so much of what was not only 
tolei-able, but greatly desirable, both in living and 
dying. " For him to live was Christ;" that is, to 
do the work and serve the interest of Christ: for 
him " to die was gain ;" that is, would he his own 
interest and reward. His strait was not, whether 
it would be good to live, or good to depart, be- 
cause both were good ; but he doubted whicfh of 
the two was more desirable. Nor was it his mean- 

in2' to briiiff his own interest and Christ's into com- 
es o 

petition with each other. By Christ, or the inte- 
rest of Christ, he means his serving the churches 



Chap. 1.] IN THE PRESENT LIFE. 9 

of Christ upon earth. But he knew that Christ 
had an interest also in his saints above, and could 
raise up more to serve him here. Yet, because he 
was to judge by what appeared, and saw that such 
were much wanted upon earth, this turned the 
scales in his choice ; and therefore, in order to 
serve Christ in the edification of his churches, he 
was more inclined, by denying himself, to have 
his reward delayed ; at this same time well know- 
ing that the delay of his reward would tend to its 
increase. Here let me observe, " That even in 
this world, short of death, there is some good so 
much to be regarded, as may justly prevail with 
believers to prefer it before the present hasting of 
their reward.'* I rather note this, that no temp- 
tation may carry me into the extreme of taking 
nothing but heaven to be worth minding; and so 
even sinfully cast off the world, on pretence of 
mortification and a heavenly life. ?!iot that any 
thing on earth is better than heaven, or is in itself 
to be preferred before heaven. The end, as such, 
is better than the means, and perfection better 
than imperfection. But the present use of the 
means may be sometimes preferred before the 
present possession of the end. And the use of the 
means for a higher end, may be preferred before 
the present possession of a lower end. Every 
thing has its season. Planting, sowing, and build- 
ing are not so good as reaping, fruit-gathering, 
and dwelling; but in their season they must be 
first done. 



10 WHAT TIIllIlK KS DLslIKAUl.K [Chap. I. 

But let me inquire, What there is so desirable 
in this present life ? The answer is obvious : for, 

1. While this present life continues, the will of 
God is fulfilled, who will have us upon earth for 
a season ; and that is best which God wills. 

2. The life to come depends upon this present 
life; as the life of adult age depends upon infan- 
cy ; or the reward upon the work ; or the prize 
of racers or soldiers upon their running or light- 
ing ; or the merchant's gain upon his voyage. 
Heaven is won or lost on earth; the possession 
is there, but the preparation is here. Christ will 
judge all men in another state, as their works 
have been in this. First, " W^ell done, good and 
faithful servant;" then, "Enter thou into the joy 
of thy Lord." " I have fought a good fight, I have 
finished my course" must go before the crown 
of righteousness " which the Lord the righteous 
Judge shall give." All that we ever do for salva- 
tion must be done here. It was on earth that Christ 
himself wrought the work of our redemption, ful- 
filled all righteousness, became our ransom, and 
paid the price of our salvation ; and here also must 
we do our part. The bestowing of the reward is 
God's work, who, we are sure, will never fail. 
Here is no room for the least suspicion of his fail- 
ing in any thing he undertakes ; but the danger 
and fear is of our own miscarrying, lest we be not 
found capable of receiving wliat God will certain- 
ly give to all that are fit to receive. To distrust 
God is heinous sin and follv ; but to distrust our- 



Ghap. I.] IN THE PRESENT LIFE. 11 

selves is highly reasonable. So that if we will 
make sure of heaven, it must be by " giving all 
diligence to make our calling and election sure" 
upon earth. If we fear hell, we must fear our be- 
ing prepared for it. And it is great and difficult 
work we have to do upon earth ; as, for instance, 
to be cured of all damning sin; to be born again; 
to be pardoned and justified by faith ; to be united 
to Christ, made wise to salvation, renewed by his 
Spirit, and conformed to his likeness ; to over- 
come all the temptations of the world, the flesh, 
and the devil ; to perform all our duties toward 
God and man ; " with the heart to believe in Christ 
unto righteousness, and with the mouth to make 
confession unto salvation; also to "suffer with 
Christ, that we may reign with him ; and be faith- 
ful to death, that we may receive the crown of 
life." Thus on earth must we *' so run that we 
may obtain." 

3. We must labor to do good to many; and 
therefore we have greater M'ork to do on earth 
than m.erely securing our own salvation. We are 
intrusted with our Master's talents for his service, 
to do our best in our places, to propagate his 
truth and grace, to edify his church, honor his 
cause, and promote the salvation of as many souls 
as we can. All this is to be done on earth, if we 
would secure the end of all in heaven. 

It is then an error, though but few are guilty 
of it, to think that all religion lies in minding only 
the life to come, and in disregarding all things in 



12 WHAT tiu:ri: is desirable [Chap. I. 

this present life. All true Christians must seri- 
ously mind both the end and the means of attain- 
ing it. If they believingly mind not the end, they 
will never be faithful in the use of the means ; if 
they be not diligent iw using the means, they will 
never obtain the end. Heaven must have our 
highest esteem, and our habitual love, desire, and 
joy ; but earth must have more of our daily thoughts 
for present practice. A man that travels to the 
most desirable home, has an habitual desire to it 
all the way; but his present business is his jour- 
ney, and therefore his horse, inns and company, 
his roads and his fatigues, may employ more of 
his thoughts, and talk, and action, than his home. 
I have often wondered to find David, in the 
Psalms, and other saints before the coming of 
Christ, express so great a sense of the things of 
this present life, and say so little of another; ma- 
king so much account of prosperity, dominion, 
and victories on the one hand, and of persecution 
and the success of enemies on the other hand. 
But I consider that it was not for mere personal 
and carnal interest, but for the church of God, 
and for his honor, word, and worship ; for they 
knew, if things go well with us on earth, they will 
be sure to go well in heaven ; if the militant church 
prosper in holiness, there is no doubt but it will 
triumph in glory. Satan does much of his damn- 
ing work by men, as his instruments ; so that if we 
escape their temptations, we escape much of our 
danger. When idolaters prospered, Israel was 



Chap. l.J ty THE PRESENT LIFE. 13 

templed to idolatry. Most follow the powerful 
and prosperous side. And therefore, for the glory 
of God, and for our own everlasting salvation, we 
must, while upon earth, greatly regard our own, 
and much more the church's welfare. Indeed, if 
earth be desired only for earth, and prosperity be 
loved only to gratify the flesh, it is the certain 
mark of damning carnality and an earthly mind. 
But to desire peace and prosperity for the sake 
of souls, the increase of the church, and the honor 
of God, that " his name may be hallowed, his king- 
dom come, and his will be done on earth as it is 
in heaven," accords with the highest and most sa- 
cred discharge of duty. 

" And now, O my soul ! be not unthankful for 
the mercies of this present life. This body is so 
nearly united to thee, that it must needs be a great 
help or hinderance. Had it been more afflicted, 
it might have been a discouraging clog ; like a 
tired horse in a journey, or an ill tool to a work- 
man, or an untuned instrument in music. A sick 
or a bad servant in a house is a great trouble, and 
much more a bad wife : but thy body is nearer to 
thee than either of these could be, and will be 
more of thy concern. Yet if it had been more 
strong and healthful, sense and appetite would 
have been strong ; and the stronger thy lusts the 
greater would have been thy danger, and much 
more difficult thy victory and salvation. Even 
weak senses and temptations have too often pre- 
vailed How knowest thou then what stronger 
D 2 



14 WHAT THERE IS DESIUABLE [Chap. I. 

might liave done ? When I see a thirsty man in a 
fever, or dropsy ; and especially when I see strong 
and healthful youth bred up in fullness and among 
temptations, how they are mad in sin, violently 
carried to it, bearing down the rebukes of God 
and conscience, parents and friends, and all re- 
gard to their own salvation ; this tells me how 
great a mercy I had, even in a body not liable to 
their case. Also, many a bodily deliverance has 
been of great use to my soul, renewing my time, 
and opportunity, and strength for service, and 
bringing frequent and fresh reports of the love of 
God. If bodily mercies were not of great use to 
the soul, Christ would not so much have showed 
his saving love as he did, by healing all manner 
of diseases. Nor would God promise us a resur- 
rection of the body, if a suitable body did not pro- 
mote the welfare of the soul. 

" I am obliged to great thankfulness to God for 
the mercies of this life which he hath showed to 
my friends. That which promotes their joy should 
increase mine. 1 ought to ' rejoice with them that 
rejoice.' Nature and grace teach us to be glad 
when our friends are well and prosper ; though all 
tliis must be in order to better things than bodily 
welfare. 

" Nor must I undervalue such mercies of this 
life as belong to the land of my nativity. The 
want of them is part of God's threatened curse ; 
and ' godliness has a promise of the life that now 
is, and of that which is to come, and so is profita- 



Chap. I.j IK THE PRESENT LIFE. 15 

ble unto all things.' When God sends on a land 
the plagues of pestilence, war, persecution, and 
famine, especially a famine of iJie word of God^ it 
is a great sin to be insensible of them. If any shall 
say, ' While heaven is sure, we have no cause to 
accuse God, or to cast away comfort, hope, or 
duty,' they say well. But if they say, ' Because 
heaven is all, we must make light of all that be- 
falls us on earth,' they say amiss. Pious and pub- 
lic-spirited men, who promote the safety, peace, 
and true prosperity of the commonwealth, do 
thereby very much befriend religion and men's 
salvation, and are greatly to be loved and honored 
by all. Let me therefore be thankful for the pre- 
servation from enemies, the restraint of persecu- 
tion, the concord of Christians, and increase of 
godliness, in this land, and especially that the 
Gospel is continued in it. 

" Be particularly thankful, O my soul ! that God 
halh made any use of thee for the service of his 
church on earth. My God, my soul for this doth 
magnify thee, and my spirit rejoiceth in the re- 
view of thy great undeserved mercy. O what am 
I, whom thou tookest up from the dunghill, or 
low obscurity, that I should live myself in the 
constant relish of thy sweet and sacred truth, and 
with such encouraging success communicate it to 
others ! that I may say, now my public work 
seems ended, that these forty-three or forty-four 
years I have no reason to think that ever I la- 
bored in vain ! O with what gratitude must I look 



16 WHAT THERE Isi DESIRABLE [Chap, I. 

u[)on all places where I lived and labored; but, 
above all, that place which had my strength !* I 
bless thee for the great numbers of them gone to 
heaven, and for the continuance of piety, humility, 
conconi, and peace among them. Also for all 
that by my loritings have received any saving 
light and grace. O my God, let not my own heart 
be barren while I labor in thy husbandry to bring 
others unto holy fruit ! Let me not be a stranger 
to the life and power of that saving truth which 
I have done so much to communicate to others ! 
O let not my own words and writings condemn 
mc as void of that divine and heavenly nature and 
life which I have said so much of to the world ! 

" Stir up then, O my soul, thy sincere desires, 
and all thy faculties, to do the remnant of the work 
of Christ appointed thee on earth, and then joy- 
fully wait for the heavenly perfection in God's 
own time. Thou canst truly say, * To me to live 
is Christ.' It is his work for which ihou livest. 
Thou hast no other business in the world. But 
thou doest this work with a mixture of many over- 
sights and imperfections, and too much troublest 
thy thoughts with distrust about God's part, who 
never fails. If thy work be done, be thankful for 
what is past, and that thou art come so near the 
port of rest. If God will add any more to thy days, 
serve him with double alacrity. The prize is al- 
most within sight. Time is swift and short. Thou 
hast told others that ' there is no working in the 

* Kidderminster. 



Chap. I.] IN THE PRESENT LIFE. 17 

grave,' and that it must be • now or never.' Dream 
not, because Christ's righteousness was perfect, 
that God will save the wicked, or equally reward 
the slothful and the diligent. As sin is its own 
punishment, holiness is much of its own reward. 
Whatever God appointed thee to do, see that thou 
do it sincerely, and with all thy might. If sin dis- 
pose men to be angry because it is detected, dis- 
graced, and resisted ; so that God be pleased, their 
wrath should be patiently borne, who will shortly 
be far more angry with themselves. I shall not be 
hurt when I am with Christ, by the calumnies ol 
men on earth ; but tlie saving benefit will, by con- 
verted sinners, be enjoyed everlastingly. Words 
and actions are transient things, and being once 
past, are nothing ; but the effect of them on an im- 
mortal soul may be endless. All the sermons that 
I have preached are nothing now; but the grace 
of God on sanctified souls is the beginning of eter- 
nal life. It is an unspeakable mercy to be thus 
employed sincerely and with success ; and there- 
fore I had reason all this while to be in Paul's 
strait, and make no haste in my ' desires to de- 
part.' The crown will come in its due time; and 
eternity is long enough to enjoy it, how long so- 
ever it be delayed. But if I will do that which 
must obtain it for myself and others, it must be 
quickly done, before my declining sun be set. O 
that 1 had no worse causes of my unwillingness 
yet to die, than my desire to do the work of life 
for my own and other men's salvation, and to 
D 2* 



18 WHAT theue is desirable [Chap. I. 

* finish my course with joy, and the niinistry I 
have received of the Lord !' 

" As it is on earth I must do good to others, so 
it must be in a manner suited to their earthly state. 
Souls are here closely united to bodies, by which 
they must receive much good or hurt. Do good 
to men's bodies, if thou wouldest do good to their 
souls. Say not. Things corporeal are worthless 
trifles, for which the receivers will be never the 
better. They are things that nature is easily sen- 
sible of, and sense is the passage to the mind and 
will. Dost thou not find what a help it is to thyself, 
to have at any time any ease and alacrity of body ; 
and what a burden and hinderance pains and cares 
are? Labor then to free others from such burdens 
and temptations, and be not regardless of them. 
If thou must ' rejoice with them that rejoice, and 
weep with them that weep,' promote then thy 
own joy by helping theirs, and avoid thy own sor- 
rows ii) preventing or curing theirs. But, alas ! 
what power has selfishness in most ! How easily 
do we bear our brethren's pains and reproaches, 
wants and afflictions, in comparison of our own ! 
How few thoughts and how little cost and labor 
do we use for their supply, in comparison of what 
vv'e do for ourselves ! Nature indeed teaches us to 
be sensible of our own case ; but grace tells us 
that we should not make so great a difference as 
we do, but should love our neighbor as ourselves. 

" And now, O my soul, consider how merciful- 
ly God has dealt with thee, that thy strait should 



Chap. 1.] tN THE PRESENT LIFE. 19 

be between two conditions so desirable. I shall 
either die speedily, or stay yet longer upon earth ; 
whichever it be, it will be a merciful and com- 
fortable state. That it is ' desirable to depart, and 
be with Christ,' I must not doubt, and shall here- 
after more copiously consider. And if my abode 
on earth yet longer be so great a mercy as to be 
put into the balance against my present posses- 
sion of heaven, surely it must be a state which 
obliges me to great thankfulness to God and com- 
fortable acknowledgment : nor should my pain, or 
sickness, or sufferings from men, make this life on 
earth unacceptable while God will continue me in 
it. Paul had his thorn in the flesh, the messenger 
of Satan to buflfet him, and sufliered more from 
men than I have done ; and yet he ' gloried in his 
infirmities, and rejoiced in his tribulations,' and 
was * in a strait betwixt' living and dying ; yea, 
rather chose to live yet longer. Alas ! the strait 
of most men is between the desire of life for flesh- 
ly interest, and the fear of death as ending their 
felicity ; between a tiring world and body, which 
make them weary of living, and the dreadful pros- 
pect of future danger, which makes them afraid of 
dying. If they live, it is in misery; if they must 
die, they fear greater misery : whether they look 
behind or before them, to this world or the next, 
fear and trouble is their lot. Yea, many serious 
Christians, through the weakness of their trust in 
God, live in this perplexed strait, weary of living 
and afraid of dying, continually pressed between 



20 WHAT THERE IS DESIRABLE, Ac [Chap. L 

grief and fear. But Paul's strait was between two 
joysi which of ihem he should desire most. And 
if that be my case, what should much interrupt 
my peace or pleasure ? If I live^ it is for Christy 
for his service, and to prepare for my own and his 
everlasting felicity ; and should any suffering make 
me impatient with such a work, and such a life? 
If I die presently, it is my gain; God, who ap- 
points me my work, limits my time ; and surely 
his glorious reward can never be unseasonable, or 
come too soon, if it be the time that he appoints. 
When I first engaged myself to preach the Gospel, 
I reckoned, as probable, but upon one or two 
years, and God has made it above forty-four. And 
what reason have I to be unwilling now, either to 
live or die? God's service has been so sweet to 
me that it has overcome the trouble of constant 
pains or weakness of the flesh, and all that men 
have said and done against me. How much the 
following exceeds this pleasure, I am not now able 
to conceive. There is some trouble in all this plea- 
sant work, from which the soul and flesh would 
rest. And ' blessed are the dead which die in the 
Lord ; yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest 
from their labors, and their works do follow them.' 
O my soul, what need has this kind of strait to 
trouble thee? Leave God to his own work, and 
mind that which is thine. So live that thou mav- 
cst say, 'Christ livelh in me; and the life which I 
now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the 
Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for 



Chap. II.] flQVS SEPARATE SPIRITS. 2J 

me.' Then, as thou hast lived in the comfort of 
hope, thou shalt die in the comfort of vision and 
enjoyment. And when thou canst say of God, 
* Whose I am, and whom I serve ;' that thou may- 
est boldly add, ' I know whom I have believed, 
and into his hands I commit my departing spirit.' " 



OKAFT£R XI. 



The necessity and reasonableness of believing that pi- 
ous separate spirits are with Christ. 

The subject suggests to my thoughts — the ne- 
cessity of believing that the souls of the godly, 
when departed hence^ shall be with Christ — and, 
the reasonableness of such a faith. We are else- 
where assured, that " we shall be with him, where 
he is;" and to be with him can mean no less than 
a state of communion, and a participation of hap- 
piness. To believe such a state of happiness for 
departed pious souls, must appear, upon conside- 
ration, to be both necessary and reasonable. 

I. The NECESSITY of believing that pious sepa- 
rate spirits are with Christ, appears by consider- 
ing, that, without this belief — we shall be uncer- 
tain concerning the design of life — we shall lose 
the most powerful motives to a holy life — we can 
neither know, estimate, nor improve our mercies — 
nor can we bear our sufferings with comfort. 



22 P10U3 SEPAltATE SPIRITS [Chop. 11 

1. We sliall be uncertain concerning the design 
of life. It is allowed, that the right end of life is 
to please God. But I must desire to please God 
better than I do in this imperfect state, I must de- 
sire to please him perfectly. And our desires of 
our ultimate end must have no bounds. God has 
made the desire of our own happiness so necessa- 
ry to the soul of man, that it cannot be separated 
from our desire to please him. Therefore, both 
in respect to God and to our own happiness, we 
must believe that he is the everlasting " rewarder 
of them that diligently seek him." If we knew 
not whether God will turn our pleasing him to our 
loss, or to our having no gain by pleasing him, 
this would hinder our love to him, and our trust 
and joy in him ; and consequently hinder the cheer- 
fulness, sincerity, and constancy of our obedience. 
Had we no certainty M'hat God will do with us 
we must have some prohahility and hope before 
we can be entirely devoted to his service. How 
can a man pitch upon an uncertain end? If he 
waver so as to have no end, he can use no means ; 
he lives not as a man, but as a brute. Or if he 
pitch upon a wrong end, he will but make work 
for repentance. 

2. We shall lose the most powerful motives to 
a holy life. Indeed, goodness is desirable for itself; 
but the goodness of means is their fitness for the 
end. We have here abundance of hindorances» 
temptations, and difficulties, which must be over- 
come. Our natures are diseased, and greatly in- 



Chap, ll.j ARE WITH CHRIST. 23 

disposed to the most necessary duties ; and will 
they ever be discharged, if the necessary motives 
be not believed ? Our duties to God and man may 
cost us our estates, liberties, and lives. The world 
is not so happy as commonly to know good men 
from bad, or to encourage piety and virtue, or to 
forbear opposing them. And who will let go his 
present welfare without some hope of better as a 
reward ? Men do not use to " serve God for 
naught,'^ or while they think it will be their loss 
to serve him. A life of sin will not be avoided 
for inferior motives. When lust and appetite in- 
cline men strongly and constantly to their respec- 
tive objects, what shall sufficiently restrain them, 
except the motives from things external ? If sin 
so overspread the earth, notwithstanding all the 
hopes and fears of a life to come, what would it 
do if there were no such hopes and fears ? 

3. We can neither know, estimate, nor improve 
our mercies, — God gives us all the mercies of this 
life as helps to an immortal state of glory, and as 
earnests of it. Sensualists know not what a soul 
is, nor what soul-mercies are, and therefore know 
not the just value of all bodily mercies ; but take 
up only with the carcass^ shell, or shadow, instead 
of the life of their mercies. No wonder they are 
so unthankful for God's mercies, when they know 
not the real excellency of them. 

4. Nor can we bear our present sufferings with 
comfort, without the hope of living with .Christ.— 
What should support and comfort me under my 



24 FIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. II 

bodily languishings and pains, my weary hours, 
and daily experience of the vanity and vexation 
of all things under the sun, had I not a prospect 
of the comfortable end of alH I, that have lived 
in the midst of great and precious mercies, have 
all my life had something to do to overcome the 
temptation of wisliing that I had never been born; 
and had never overcome it, but by {he belief of a 
blessed life hereafter. We should be strongly 
tempted, in our considerate moments, to murmur 
at our Creator, as dealing worse by us than by 
the brutes ; if we must have had all those cares, 
and griefs, and fears, by the knowledge of what 
we want, and the prospect of death and future 
evils, which they are exempted from, and had not 
withal the hope of future felicity to support us. 
Seneca had no better argument to silence such 
murmurers, than to tell them, " If this life have 
more evil than good, and you think God does you 
wrong, you may remedy yourselves by ending it 
when you will." But that could not cure the re- 
pinings of nature, when weary of the miseries of 
life, and yet afraid of dying. No wonder that so 
many fancied that souls were punished in these 
bodies for something done in a pre-existent state. 
*' O how contemptible a thing is man," says Sen- 
eca, " unless be lifts up himself above human 
things." Therefore, says Solomon, when he had 
tried all sensual enjoyments, " I hated life, be- 
cause the work that is wrought under the sun is 
grievous unto me; for all is vanity and vexation 
of spirit.'' 



Chap, il.'} ARE WITH CHRIST. 25 

II. As for the reasonableness of believing 
that pious separate spirits are with Christ — I have 
often thought, whether an implicit belief of it may 
not be better than searching into its nature, and 
trying what can be said against it. I have known 
many godly women who never disputed the mat- 
ter, but served God comfortably to a very old age, 
and who lived many years in such a cheerful rea- 
diness and desire for death as few studious men 
ever attain to. This no doubt was the divine re- 
ward of their unwavering confidence and trust in 
the promises through Christ. On the contrary, 
as doubts and difficulties are apt to present them- 
selves to an inquisitive mind, they must be an- 
swered ; for if we reject them unanswered, we 
give them half the victory over us ; and a faith 
that is not upheld by such evidence of truth as 
reason can discern and justify, is often joined -with 
much doubting, which men dare not confess, but 
do not therefore overcome ; and the weakness of 
such a faith may tend to enfeeble all the graces 
and duties which should be strengthened by it. 
Who knows how soon a temptation from Satan, 
or infidels, or from our own dark hearts, may as- 
sault us, which will not be overcome without clear 
evidence? Yet many that try, and reason, and 
dispute most, have not the stronger faith. Indeed, 
there is a wide difference between that light which 
discovers the thing itself, and a mere artificial 
kind of knov/ledge, to form arguments and answer 
objections. Unlearned persons, who have little 
D 3 



26 PIOUS SEI'ARATE SPIRITS [Chap. TI. 

of the latter may have more of the former, even 
that teaching from God which reaches the heart 
as well as the understanding. And who does not 
find it necessary to pray hard for this divine 
teaching? When I can prove the truth of the 
word of God, and of the life to come, with the 
most convincing evidence of reason, I feel my 
need to cry daily to God to " increase my faith," 
and to give me that light which may sanctify the 
soul and reach the end. Nevertheless, this effec- 
tual teaching ordinarily supposes that which is ar- 
tificial. Unlearned Christians are convinced, by 
good evidence, that God's word is true, and his 
rewards sure ; though they cannot state that evi- 
dence, or conceive of it without some confusion. 
With respect to curious and needless inquiries 
beyond what is levealed, it is a believer's wisdom 
implicitly to trust his soul to Christ, and to f^ar 
that vain, vexatious knowledge, which is selfish, 
and savors of a distrust of God, and is that sin, 
and fruit of sin, which the learned world too lit- 
tle fears. That " God is the rewarder of them 
that diligently seek him," and that holy souls 
shall be in blessedness with Christ, I am con- 
vinced by the following concurrent evidences, on 
which my soul raises its hopes: — The immortal- 
ity of the soul — the belief of it naturally implant- 
ed in all men — the duty of all men to seek after 
future happiness — the difference between men and 
brutes, concerning the knowledge of God and fu- 
turity — the justice of God, as the governor of the 



Chap. II,J ARE WITH CHRIST. 27 

world — divine revelation — God's hearing and an 
swering prayer — the ministration of angels — the 
temptations of Satan, and especially the sancti- 
fying operations of the Spirit of God. 

1. The soul of man is immortal — and there- 
fore, if good, cannot be for ever in a bad condi- 
tion. An immortal spirit is " a distinct, self- 
conscieus, invisible being, endowed with natural 
powers of never-ceasing action, understanding 
and will, and which is neither annihilated nor de- 
stroyed by separation of parts." Such is the soul 
of man. If in this flesh our spirits were not in- 
active and useless, we have no reason to think 
that they will be so hereafter, and that for ever. 
Though by the light of nature we may know the 
immortality of souls, yet without supernatural 
light we know not what manner of action they 
will have in their separate state. It satisfies me, 
that God will not continue their noblest powers 
in vain ; and how those powers shall be exercised 
is known to him; and this his word tells us more 
than nature. All things considered, there is no 
reason to fear that souls shall lose their activity, 
though they change their manner of action : and 
so it is naturally certain that they are immortal. 
And if holy souls are so far immortal, their holi- 
ness must prove their happy immortality. This 
the most just and holy God will certainly secure 
to those whom he makes holy. 

2. The belief of the soul's immortality is na- 
turally implanted in all men. — Almost all pagan 



23 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Cbap. II. 

nations at tliis day, as well as ibe Maliommedans, 
believe it. As for tlie cannibals and savages, 
whose understandings are least improved, they are 
rather ignorant of it than disbelieve it. Though 
some philosophers denied it, they were every way 
inconsiderable: though many others were doubt- 
ful, it was only a certainty which they professed 
to want, and not a probability. Most of the apos- 
tates from Christianity, beside those philoso- 
I)hers who have been its violent opposers, fully 
acknowledged it. Julian was so persuaded of it, 
that with a view to it he exhorted his priests and 
the rest of his subjects to great strictness of life, 
and to see that the Christians did not exceed them. 
Indeed, few of those that affect, like the Sad- 
ducees, to disbelieve it, are able to free them- 
selves from the tears of future misery ; but, with 
all their efforts, conscience still troubles them. 
And whence should all this be in man, and not in 
beasts, if man had no more cause for hopes and 
fears ib.an they? 

3. God has made it every man's duty to seek 
nflrr future happiness as the one thing needful, 
and therefore there must certainly be such a 
happiness for them that truly seek it. Some be 
lieve a state of future retribution, as Christians 
Mahommedans, and most heathens. Others think 
it is uncertain, yet very probable. And to others 
it is also uncertain, though they rather think it 
untrue. Now all tliese ought to seek after it, and 
make it their chief care and labor: for natural rea- 



Chap. U.J ARE WITH CHRIST. 29 

son requires every man to seek that which is best 
Math the greatest diligence, and assures us that a 
probability or possibility of future everlasting 
liappiness is better, and more worthy to be sought, 
than any thing attainable in this present life. As 
the will of man necessarily desires happiness, it 
must desire that most which is best, and which is 
known to be so. In this life there is nothing cer- 
tain for an hour. It is certain that the longest 
life is short. It is certain that time and sensual 
pleasure, when past, are nothing, and no better 
than if they had never been. It is .also certain 
that they are dissatisfying while we possess them ; 
for carnal pleasure is no sweeter to a man than 
to a beast, and to a beast is unattended with fear 
of death, or any misery after death; nor has the 
beast any labors, sufferings, or trials, in order to 
obtain a future happiness, or avoid a future mis- 
cry. Beside, it is self-evident, from the perfec- 
tions of God, and from the nature of his works 
that he does not make it man's natural duty to 
care and labor most for that which is not, or to 
seek what is not to be attained. If so, the duty 
of man would result from deceit and falsehood; 
and God would govern the world by a lie, and 
not by power, wisdom, and love ; and the better 
any man was, and the more he did his duty, he 
would be only the more deluded and miserable; 
and the more wicked and unbelieving any man 
was, the wiser and happier would he be. But all 
this is contrary tc the perfections and works of 



so PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Cbap. II. 

Got! ; for he makes nothing in vain, nor can lie 
lie: much less will he make holiness itself, and 
all llial duly and work of life which reason obli- 
ges all men to perform, to be not only vain, but 
pernicious. 

4. The diflerence between men and brutes with 
respect to the knowledge of God and futurity, 
shows that tiiey difler as much in their hopes. 
>Ian knows that there is a God by his works ; and 
that this God is our Lord, our ruler, and end; 
and thai we naturally owe him all our love and 
obedience: and that it is not the manner, even of 
good men, ever to suffer their most faithful ser- 
vants to be losers by their tidelily, or to set tliem 
upon laboring in vain. ]Man also knows that his 
own soul is immortal, and therefore must be well 
or ill for ever, and that this ouj^ht to be cared for. 
And why should God give man all this knowledge 
more than the brutes, if man is designed for no 
more happiness than brutes? Every wise man 
makes his work fit for its design; and will not 
God do so? If God was not perfectly wise, he 
would not be God. Therefore to deny man's fu 
ture hopes, is to deny Goil himself. 

5. The justice of Ciod as the governor of the 
world, infers a stale of future retribution. If 
God did not govern man by laws, judgment, and 
executions, there would be no proper law of na- 
ture, and man would have no proper duly, nor 
be in sin or fault. But experience tells us that 
God morally governs the world; and his right to 



Chap. [I.] ARE WITH CHRIST. 31 

do SO is unquestionable. If God was not the ru- 
ler of tlie world, the world would have no univer- 
sal laws; for no man is the universal ruler; nor 
are kings, and other supreme powers, utterly law- 
less and ungoverned. And if God be a ruler, he 
is just ; else he is not so good as he requires earth- 
ly princes to be. But how is God a righteous ru- 
ler, if he draws ail men to him by deceit? if he 
obliges them to seek and expect a reward which 
he will never give? if he makes man's duty his 
misery? if he requires man to labor in vain? if he 
suffer the wicked to persecute and kill his ser- 
vants, without punishing the one and gloriously 
recompensing the other, in a future stale? 

6. The gospel revelation is the clear founda- 
tion of our faith and hope. God iias not left us 
to tiie mere light of nature. " Christ has brought 
life and immortality to light." One greater 
than an angel was sent from heaven to tell us what 
is there, and which is the way, and to secure our 
hopes. He has conquered death, and entered be- 
fore us, as our captain and forerunner, into the 
everlasting habitations. He has "all power in 
heaven and earth, and all judgment is commit- 
ted to him." Ail his word is ftll of promises of 
our future glory at the resurrection. jNor arc we 
without assurance that the departing soul at death 
enters upon a state of joy and blessedness, as ap- 
])pars by the promise to the penitent thief on the 
cross ; — the parable of the rich man and Lazarus ; 
— Christ's telling the sadducees that God ; " is not 



32 nous SEI'AKATE ai'IRITd [Chap. II. 

the God of the dead, but of the living;" — the 
translation of Enoch and Elijah, and the appear- 
ance of Moses with Elijali on the mount of trans- 
figuration; our Lord's arguing, that "they who 
kill the body are not able to kill the soul;" — 
his "commending his spirit into his Father's 
hands," and its being in paradise, while his body 
was in the grave ; — his promising, " Where I am, 
there shall also my servant be," &c. — Stephen's 
seeing heaven opened, and his praying, "Lord 
Jesus receive my spirit ;" — our being " come to 
the spirits of just men made perfect;" — Paul's de- 
siring to depart, and to be with Christ, which is 
far better, and to be absent from the body, and 
present with the Lord; — the blessedness of the 
dead who die in the Lord; — the disobedient spi- 
rits being in prison, and the cities of Sodom and 
Gomorrah suffering the vengeance of eternal fire; 
— also Christ's saying, "When ye fail, (that is, 
leave this world,) ye shall be received into ever 
lasting habitations." 

7. God's hearing and answering prayer in this 
life, assures his servants that he is their true and 
faithful Savior. How often have I cried to him 
when theie appeared to be no help in second 
causes; and how frequently, suddenly, and mer- 
cifully, has he deliverc<l me ! Such extraordinary 
changes, beyond my own and others' expectations, 
while many plain-hearted, upright Christians, by 
fasting and prayer, sought God on my behalf, 
have abundantly convinced me of a special provi- 



Chap. II.] ARE WITH CHRIST. 33 

dence, and that God is indeed a hearer of prayer. 
I have also seen wonders done for others by prayer 
more than for myself: though I and others are too 
much like those who " cried unto the Lord in 
their trouble, and he saved them out of their dis- 
tresses ; but they forgot his works, and his won- 
ders that he showed them." And what were all 
those merciful answers, but the fruits of Christ's 
power, faithfulness, and love, the fulfilling of his 
promises, and the earnest of the greater blessing 
of immortality, which the same promises entitle 
me to ? 

8. The ministration of angels is also a help to 
my belief of immortality with Christ. — " They 
have charge over us, — encamp round about us, — 
bear us up in their hands, — ^^joy in the presence of 
God over our repentance, — and are all ministering 
spirits, sent forth to minister to the heirs of sal- 
vation. — As our angels, they always behold the 
face of our Father which is in heaven. — When 
the Son of man shall come in his glory, all the 
holy angels shall come with him, and he shall 
send them forth, and they shall sever the wicked 
from among the just." Not only of old did they 
appear to the faithful as messengers from God, but 
many mercies does God give to us by their min- 
istry. And that they are now so friendly and 
helpful to us, and make up one societ}' with us, 
greatly encourages us to hope that we are made 
for the same region, employment, and converse. 
They were once in a life of trial, though not on 



'M rious SEFAUATE spiRi'j 55 [Chap. II 

earth ; and having overcome, they rejoice in our 
victory. The world above us is not uninhabited, 
nor beyond our capacity and liope ; but we are 
come to the city of the Jiving God, and to an in 
numerable company of angels. 

9. Even Satan himself by his temptations has 
many ways cherished my hopes of immortality 
There are few men, I think, that observe what 
')asse3 within them, but have had some experience 
:if such inward temptations, as show that the au- 
thor of them is an invisible enemy, and assure us 
that there are diabolical spirits, which seek man's 
misery by tempting him to sin, and consequently 
that future happiness or misery must be expected 
by us all. 

10. More especially the sanctifying operations 
of the Spirit of God, are the earnest of heaven, 
and the sure prognostic of our immortal happi- 
ness. It is a change of grand importance to man, 
to be renewed in his mind, his will, and life. It 
repairs his depraved faculties. It causes man to 
live as man, who was degenerated to a life too much 
like the brutes. Men are slaves to sin till Christ 
makes them free. " Where the Spirit of the Lord is 
there is liberty." If" the love of God shed abroad 
in our hearts," be not our excellence, health, and 
beauty, what is ? " That which is born of the flesh 
is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit, is 
spirit. '* Without Christ" and his Spirit, " we can 
do nothing." Our dead notions and reason, though 
we see the truth, have not power to overcome 



Chap. II.] ARE WITH CHRIST. 35 

temptations, nor raise up man's soul to its origi- 
nal end, nor possess us with the love and joy- 
ful hope of future blessedness. It were better for 
us to have no souls, than have our souls void of 
the Spirit of God. — Heaven is the design and end 
of this important change. What is our knowledge 
and faith, but to know and believe that heaven 
consists in the glory and love of God there ma- 
nifested, and that it was purchased by Christ, and 
given by his covenant.'' What is our hope, but 
" the hope of glory," which we through the Spirit 
wait for? What is our love, but a desire of com- 
munion with the blessed God, begun here, and 
perfected hereafter? What Christ teaches and 
commands, he works in us by his Spirit. He 
sends not his Spirit to make men craftier than 
others for this world, but '* wiser to salvation,** 
and more holy and heavenly. " The children of 
this world are in their generation wiser than the 
children of light." Heavenly mindedness is the 
special work of the Spirit. In producing this 
change, the Spirit overcomes all opposition from 
the world, the flesh, and the devil. Christ first 
overcame the world, and teaches and causes us 
to overcome it, even in its flatteries and its frowns, 
" Our faith is our victory." Whether this victory 
be easy and honorable to the Spirit of Christ, let 
us appeal to our experience of the wickedness of 
the world, and of our own weakness and falls. 
None can do this work on the soul of man, but 
God. Not the most learned and holy teachers, of 



36 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. II. 

the wisest and most aflectionate parents, or the 
greatest princes. Evil angels neither can, nor will 
do it. Good angels do nothing toward it, but as 
obedient ministers of God. We cannot quicken, 
illuminate, or sanctify ourselves ; and though we 
have some power, both conscience and experience 
testify, that we have nothing but " what we have 
received," — Christ promised his Spirit to all true 
believers, to be in them as his advocate, agent, 
seal, and mark ; and indeed the Spirit here, and 
heaven hereafter, are the chief of his promises. 
That this Spirit is given to all true believers, is 
evident by the effects of it. They have ends, 
affections, and lives, different from the rest of man- 
kind : they live upon the hope of a better life, and 
their heavenly interest overrules all the opposite 
interests of this world ; in order to which they 
live under the conduct of divine authority, and to 
obey and please God is the great business of their 
lives. The men of the world discern this differ- 
ence, and therefore hate and oppose them because 
they find themselves condemned by their heavenly 
temper and conversation. Believers are conscious 
of this difference ; for they desire to be better, and 
to trust and love God more, and to have more of 
the heavenly life and comforts ; and when their 
infirmities m^ake them doubt of their own sinceri- 
ty, they would not change their governor, rule, 
or hopes, for all the world ; and it is never so 
well and pleasant with them, as when they can 
trust and love God most; and in their worst and 



Chap. II. j AKE WITH CJIUIST. 37 

weakest condition they would juia be perfecl. 
Indeed, uhatever real goodness is found amon<,^ 
nien, it is given by the same Spirit of Christ : but 
it is notorious, that, in lieavenly niindedness and 
virtue, no part of the world is comparable to seri- 
ous Christians. This Spirit, Christ also expressly 
promised, as the means and pledges, the hrst-fruits 
and earnest, of tlie heavenly glory; and, therefore, 
it is a certain proof that we shall have such a glo- 
ry. He that gives us such a spiritual change, 
wjiich in its nature and tendency is heavenly; he 
that sets our hopes aiid hearts on heaven, and 
turns the endeavors of our lives toward future 
blessedness, and promised this preparatory grace 
as the earnest of that felicity, may well be trusted 
to perform his word in our complete, eternal glory. 
• And now, O weak and fearful soul ! why should- 
est thou draw back, as if the matter was doubtful? 
Is not thy foundation firm? Is not the way of life, 
tiirough the valley of death, made safe by him 
that conquered death ? Art thou not yet delivered 
from the bondage of thy fears? Hast thou not 
long ago found in thee the motions and effectual 
operations of this Spirit? And is he not still re- 
sidins" and workina; in tliee, as the ag-ent and wii- 
!sess of Christ ? If not, whence are thy groanings 
aifter God, thy desires to be nearer to Iws glory, 
to know him and love him more? Whence came 
eU the pleasure thou hast had in his sacred truth, 
and ways, and service? Who subdued for thee 
thy folly, pride, and vain desires ? Who made it 



<iS PIOUS SEPARATE apipiTS [Chap. II. 

thy choice to sit at the feet of Jesus, and hear hi6 
word, aa tlie better part, and count the lionors 
and preferments of the world but dung and dros<s ? 
Who breathed in all those requests thou hast sent 
up to God? Overvalue not corrupt nature, it 
brings forth no such fruits as these. Remember 
what thou wast in the hour of temptation, how 
small a matter has drawn thee to sin. Forget not 
the days of thy youthful vanity. Overlook npt 
the case of thy sinful neighbors, who, in the 
midst of light, still live in darkness, and hear not 
the loudest .calls of God. Is it no work of Christ*.'* 
Spirit that has made thee to differ? X)»ou hast 
nothing to boast of, and mucii to be humbled and 
also to be thankful fur. ,^ Thy holy desires are, 
alas! too weak; but they are holy. Thy love 
has been too cold ; but it is the most holy Go<l 
whom thou hast loved. Thy hopes have been too 
low ; but thou hast hoped in God, and for his hea- 
venly glory. Thy prayers have been too dull and 
interrupted ; but thoy hast prayed for holiness and 
heaven. Thy lahprs bave been too slothful ; but 
thou hast labored for God and Christ, and the 
ijood o-f mankind. Thouorh thv motion was too 
Mcak and slow, it has been God-ward, and there- 
fore it is from God. O bless the Lord, not only 
for giving thee his word, and sealing it with un- 
controled mirades, but also for frequently and 
remarkably fullilling his promises, ia the answer 
of thy prayers, and in great deliverance of thyself 
end of many others; and that he has by rcgenera- 



Chap. IL] are with christ. 39 

tion been preparing thee for the light of glory! 
And wilt thou yet doubt and fe-ar, against all this 
evidence, experience, and foretaste? 

I think it no needless labor to confirm my soul 
in the full persuasion of the truth of its immortal 
nature, and of a future life of joy or misery, and 
of the certain truth of the Christian faith. I can 
no more doubt the being and perfections of God, 
than whether there be an earth or a sun. Chris- 
tianity is only known by revelation, which is so 
attested externally to the world, internally to holy 
souls, as makes faith a ruling, victorious, and com- 
fortable pxipciple. But the soul's immortality and 
future reward is known in some measure by the 
light of nature, and more perfectly by revelation. 
When I consider the great unlikeness of men's 
hearts and lives to such a belief as we all profess, 
I cannot but fear, that not only the ungodly, but 
most that truly hope for glory, have a far weaker 
belief of the soul's immortality, and the truth of 
the gospel, than they are apt to imagine. Can I 
he fully persuaded of the future rewards and pun- 
ishments of souls, and that we shall be judo-ed 
hereafter as we have lived here, v/ithout despising 
all the vanities of the worhl, and setting my heart 
with resolution and diligence to a holy, heavenly 
fruitful life? Who could stand trifling, as most 
men do, at the door of eternity, that verily believed 
his immortal soul must be shortly there ? Though 
such a one had no certainty of his own salvation, 
he would nevertheless search and try, watch and 



•iO PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Cliap. II. 

pray, and spare no care, cost, or labor, to make 
all sure. If a man once saw heaven and hell, 
would he not afterward exceed the most resolute 
believer? I confess there is much weakness of 
luith in things unseen, even where there is since- 
rity. But where there is little diligence for the 
world to come, I must think there is but little be- 
lief of it, and that such persons are not aware how 
much they secretly doubt the truth of it. Most 
complain of the uncertainty of their title to salva- 
tion, and very little of their uncertainty whether 
there be a heaven and a hell. Whereas a hearty 
persuasion of the latter, would do more to con- 
vince them of the former than long examinations, 
and many marks of trial. It would, indeed, con- 
found faith and reason, if in the body we had as 
clear and lively apprehensions of heaven and hell 
as sight would occasion; nor is the soul fit, while 
in the body, to bear such a sight. But yet there 
is an overruling seriousness, to which the soul 
must be brought by a firm persuasion of future 
things. And he that is careful and serious for 
this world, and looks after a better only as a se- 
condary object, must give me leave to think that 
he believes but as he lives, and that his doubting 
of a heaven and hell is greater than his belief. 

O then, for what should my soul more pray, 
than for a clearer and stronger faith? " I believe; 
Lord help my unbelief!" I have many thousand 
times groaned to thee under this burden of vemain- 
ingdarkness and unbelief: I have many thousand 



Chap. II. J AKE >VrrH CHRIST. 41 

times tlioiiglit of the evidences of Christianity^ 
and of the necessity of a lively, powerful, active 
faith. I have cried to thee night and day, ' Lord, 
increase my faith !' I have written and spoken 
that to others, which might be most viseful to my- 
self, and render my faith more like sense. Yet, 
Lord, how dark is this world ! What a dungeon 
is flesh ! How little clearer are my perceptions of 
things unseen, than th,ey were long ago ! Is no 
more growth of them to be expected? Does the 
soul no more increase in vigorous perception, 
when the body no mora increases in the vigor 
of sensation? Must I sit down with so slow a 
measure, when I am almost there, where faith is 
changed for sight? O let not a soul, that is driv- 
en from this world, and weary of vanity, and can 
think of little else but immortality, that seeks and 
cries both night and day for the heavenly light, 
and fain would have some foretaste of glory, and 
some more of the tirst-fruits of the promised joys, 
— let not such a soul either long, or cry, or strive 
in vain ! Punish not my former grieving of thv 
Spirit, by deserting a soul that cries for thy grace, 
so near its great and inconceivable change ! Let 
me not languish in vain desires, at the door of 
hope ; nor pass with doubts and fears from this 
vale of misery ! Which should be the season v?f 
triumphant faith, and hope, and joy, if not when 
I am entering on the world of joy? O thou, that 
hast left us so many words of promise, * that our 
jov may he full : send, O somi the Coiijiorter; for 



42 PIOUS SErAR.vTC spiRir-j [Chap. !!• 

without liis lieavenly beams, afiPr a thousand 
thoughts and cares, it will still be night and win- 
ter with itiy soul !" 

Biit I fear a distrust of God and my Redeemer 
has had too great a hand in my desires after a 
more distinct knowledge than God ordinarily gives 
to sonls in (lesh. I know that I should implicitly, 
absolutely, and quietly commit my soul into my 
lledeemer's hands; for a distrustful care of the 
soul, as w^ell as the body, is our great sin and mis- 
ery. Yet we must desire that our knowledge and 
belief may be as distinct as divine revelations are. 
We can love no farther than w^e know; and the 
more we know of God and glory, the more we 
shall love, desire, and trust. If I may not be 
ambitious of too sensible and distinct foretastes 
of things unseen, yet I must desire and beg the 
most fervent love of them of which I am capable, 
that my soul may not pass with distrust and terror, 
but with suitable triumphant hopes, to everlasting 
pleasures. " O Father of lights, who givest wis- 
dom to them that ask, shut not up this sinful soul 
in darkness ! Leave me not to grope in unsatisfied 
doubts, at the door of celestial light ! Deny me 
not now the lively exercise of faith, hope, and 
love, which are the stirrings of the new creature, 
the dawnings of eternal day, and the earnest of the 
promised inheritance!" Though, like Cicero's, 
after reading Plato's book on immortality, our 
doubts return, and our fear interrupts and weakens 
our desires and joys; yet I find that it is chiefiv 



Chap. III.J ARE WITH CHRIST. ^ 

an irrational fear, occasioned by the darkness of 
the mind, the greatness of the change, the dreadful 
majesty of God, and man's natural aversion to 
death, even when reason is fully satisfied that such 
fear is consistent with certain safety. Were I on 
the top of a castle or steeple, fastened by the 
strongest chains, or guarded by the surest battle- 
ments, I could not possibly look down without 
fear; and so it is with our prospect into the life to 
come. If, therefore, my soul sees undeniable evi- 
dence of immortality, and is able by irrefragable 
arguments to prove a future blessedness ; if I am 
convinced that divine promises are true, and trust 
my soul and all my hope upon them ; then nei- 
ther my averseness to die, nor my irrational fear 
of entering upon eternity, can invalidate the rea- 
sons of my hope, or prove the unsoundness of my 
faith, but only the weakness of it. *' Why are ye 
fearful, O ye of little faith?" was Christ's just re- 
proof to his disciples. A timorous heart needs to 
be chided, by saying, *' Why art thou cast down, 
O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within 
me? Hope thou in God,'^ &c. 



OHAFTSR ZZZ. 

)Vhat it is to depart, and to be with Chnsc* 

Having proved that faith and hope have a cer- 
tain future happiness to expect, the text directs 



44 WHAT IT 19 TO DLTART, [Cbap. Ill 

inc next to consider, — What it is to be with Christ ; 
and — AVhat it is to depart, in order to he with liirn. 

I. To be witli (Christ, includes — Presence witli 
liim, — Union to liini, and — Participation of liis 
Iiappiness. 

1. The presence of Christ, which pious separate 
spirits shall enjoy, must refer to his Godhead as 
well as to his human soul and body. We shall 
be present with the divine nature of Christ, as 
manifested in and by his glory. He teaches iis to 
pray, " Our Father, which art in heaven," because 
in heaven the P'ather gloriously shines forth to 
lioly souls. The soul of man is eminently said 
to be in the head, because there it UMderstand^^ 
and reasons; and not in the foot or hand, though 
it be also there. As we look a man in the face 
when we talk to him, so we look up to heaven 
when we pray to God. Though *' in God we live, 
and move, and have our being," both as the God 
of nature and grace, yet by the works and splen- 
dor of his glory he is eminently in heaven, man- 
ifesting himself there by some created glory; for 
}»is essence is the same every where. We shall 
be present with the human nature of Christ, both 
soul and body. But here our present narrow 
thoughts must not too boldly presume to deter- 
mine the difference between Christ's glorified bo- 
dy and his flesh upon earth ; nor where his glo- 
rified body is, nor how far it extends; nor where- 
in his soul and his glorified body differ, seeing it 



Chap. III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 45 

is called a spiritual body. We can conceive no 
more of such a body than that it is pure, in- 
corruptible, invisible to mortal eyes, and fitted to 
the most perfect state of the soul. Nor need we 
wonder how a whole world of glorified bodies can 
all of them be present with the one body of Christ; 
for as the solar beams are so present with the air 
that none can discern the difference of the places 
which they possess, and a world of bodies are pre- 
sent with them both; so may all our bodies, with- 
out any confusion, be present with Christ's body. 
2. The union to Christ, which pious separate 
spirits shall also enjoy, must be like that of sub- 
jects to their king ; but how much more we know 
not. The more spiritual, pure, and noble any na- 
tures are, the more inclination they have to union. 
Such instances of union, as the vine and branches, 
tlie head and members, are of extensive import; 
yet being but similitudes, we cannot determine 
how extensive. Far be it from us to think that 
Christ's glorified body is of such an earthly com- 
position, and of such a limited extent, as it was 
here; for then, as his disciples and a few more 
were present with him, while the rest of the 
world were absent and had none of his company, 
so it would be in heaven. But all true believers, 
from the creation to the end of the world, as well 
as a Paul, shall " be with Christ, and see his glo- 
ry." And though there will be different degrees 
of glory, as there have been of holiness, yet none 
in heaven are at such a distance from Christ as 
not to enjoy the felicity of his presence. 



49 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, LChap. Ill- 

3. We shall alro have communion witli the di- 
vine and human natures oi' Christ; both which 
shall be the felicitating objects of perfect knowledge 
and holy love to the separate spirits, before the 
resurrection. The chief part of this communion 
will consist in Christ's communications to the 
soul. As the whole creation is more dependent on 
God than the fruit on the tree, or plant on the 
earth, or the members on the body, so God uses 
second causes in his communications to inferior 
natures ; and it is more than probable that Christ's 
Imman nature is the second cause of communica- 
ting both grace and glory, both to man. in the bo- 
dy and to the separate soul. As the sv\n is both 
the cause and object of sight to the eye, so is 
Christ to the soul. For as God, so the Lamb is 
the light and glory of the: heavenly Jerusalem, 
and in his light they chall have light. Though 
Christ shall give up the kingdom to the Father, 
so that God may be " all in all," and his creatures 
be fully restored to his favor, and a healing gov- 
ernment for recovering lapsed souls to God shall 
be no more needed; yet surely he will not cease 
to be oui* Mediator, the church's head, and the 
channel of everlasting light, life, and love to all 
his members. As " we now live because he lives,* 
like the branches in the vine ; and as the Spirit 
that now quickens, enlightens, and sanctifies ns, 
is first the Spirit of Christ before it is ours, and 
is communicated from God through him to us; so 
will it be in the state of glory: there our union 



Chap. Itl«] AND TO BE WITH CHPI3T- 47 

and communion with him'will be perfected, and 
not destroyed or diminished. As it would be ar- 
rogance to think we shall be above the need and 
use of Christ and his communications; so, I doubt 
Jiot, we shall erer have use for one another, as is 
plainly intimated by " sitting down with Abraham, 
Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of God ;'' by be- 
ing " in Abraham's bosom ;" by " sitting at Christ's 
right and left hand in his kingdom;" by 'being 
*' made ruler over ten cities ;" and by joining with 
those that "sing the song of Moses and of theLamb." 
And certainly if I be " with Christ," I shall be 
with all them that are with Christ, even with all 
the heavenly society. Our mortal bodies^ must 
have so much room, that the earth is little enough 
for all its inhabitants. So narrow is our capacity 
of communion here, that those of the antrpodes, 
or on the opposite side of the earth, are almost 
as strange to us as if they were in another world. 
What strangers 'are we to those of another king- 
dom, county, or parish, and even of another house* 
But we have great cause to think, by many scri]»- 
tural expressions, that our heavenly union and 
communion will be nearer and more extensive, 
and that all the glorified shall know each other. 
'It is, I confess, a pleasant thought to me, and 
greatly helps my willingness to die, to think that 
I shall go to all the holy ones, both Christ, and 
angels, and' pious separate spirits. , They are each 
of them better and more amiable than I am« Ma- 
ny are better than one, and the perfect whol« 



48 WHAT IT Is TO DEPART, [Cliup. III. 

tlian a sinful part, and the New Jerusalem is tlie 
glory of the creation. God has given me a love 
to all that are lioly, for their holiness ; and a love 
to the work of love and praise, which they con- 
tinually and perfectly perform ; and a love to his 
celestial habitation, to his glory shining tliere. 
My old acquaintance with many a holy person 
gone to Christ, makes my thoughts of heaven the 
more familiar to me. O how many of them could 
I name ! And it is no small encouragement to 
one that is to enter upon an unseen world, to 
think that he goes no untrodden path, nor enters 
into a solitary or singular state; but follows all 
that, from the creation to this day, have passed by 
death into endless life. O how emboldening to 
consider that I am to go the same way, and to 
the same place and state, with all the believers 
and saints that have ever gone before me ! 

II. But I must *' depart before I can thus '* be 
with Christ." I must particularly depart — from 
this body — from all its former delights — and also 
from more rational pleasures belonging to the 
j)resent life and world. 

1. I must depart from this body. Here these 
eyes must see no more, this hand move no more, 
these feet walk no more, this tongue speak no 
more. As much as I have loved, and over-loved 
this body, 1 must leave it to the grave. There 
must it lie and rot in darkness, as a neglected and 
loathsome thing. This is the fruit of sin, and na- 



Chap. III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 49 

lure would not have it so. But it is only my shell, 
my tabernacle, my clothing, and not my soul itself. 
It is only a dissolution ; earth to earth. It is but 
an instrument laid by, when all its work is done ; 
a servant dismissed, vv'hen his service is ended ; 
as I cast by my lute when I have better employ- 
ment. It is but as flowers die in autumn, and 
plants in winter. It is but a separation from a 
troublesome companion, and putting off a shoe 
that pinched me. Many a sad and painful hour, 
many a weary night and day, have I had. What 
cares and fears, what griefs and groans, has this 
body cost me ! Alas ! how much of my precious 
time has been spent to maintain, pleaoC, or repair 
it ! Often have I thought that it cost me so dear 
to live, yea, to live a painful weary life, that were 
it not for the higher ends of life, I had little rea- 
son to be much in love with it, or be loth to leave 
it. To depart from such a body, is but to remove 
from a sordid habftation. I know it is the curious 
wonderful work of God, and not to be despised 
or unjustly dishonored, but admired and well 
used ; yet our reason wonders that so noble a 
spirit should be so meanly housed, for we must 
call it " our vile body.'* To depart from such a 
body, is but to be " loosed from the bondage of 
corruption," from the clog and prison of the soul. 
That body, which was a fit servant to the soul of 
innocent man, is now become as a prison. And 
further, to depart from such a body, is but to be 
separated from an accidental enemy, and one of 
D 5 



50 WHAT IT JS TO DEPART, [Chap. III. 

our greatest and most hurtful enemies ; not, in- 
deed, as the work of our Creator, but as the effect 
of sin. What coukl Satan, or any other enemy 
of our souls, have done against us without our 
flesh? What is it but the interest of this body 
that stands in competition with the interest of 
God and our souls? What else do the profane 
sell their heavenly inheritance for, as Esau his 
birthright? WHiat else is the bait of ambition, 
covetousness, and sensuality ? What takes up 
the thoughts and cares which we should lay out 
upon things spiritual and heavenly, but this body 
and its life ? What steals away men's hearts from 
the heavenly pleasures of faith, hope, and love, 
but the pleasures of this flesh? This draws us to 
sin, and hinders us from and in our duty. Were 
it not for bodily interests and temptations, how 
much more innocent and holy might I live! I 
should have nothing to care for, but to please 
God and be pleased in him, w^re it not for the 
care of this bodily life. What employment should 
my will and love have but to delight in God, and 
love him and his interest, were it not for the love 
of the body and its concerns ? By this the mind 
is darkened, the thoughts diverted, our wills cor- 
rupted, our heart and time alienated from God, 
our guilt increased, our heavenly desires and hopes 
destroyed ; life is made unholy and uncomfortable, 
and death terrible. God and souls are separated, 
and eternal life is neglected and in danger of be- 
ing utterly lost. I know that in all this the sin- 



Chap. III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 51 

ful soul is the chief cause and agent: but is not 
bodily interest its temptation, bait, and end ? Is 
not the body, and its life and pleasure, the chief 
illuring cause of all this sin and misery? And 
shall I take such a body to be better than heaven, 
or refuse to be loosed from so troublesome a yoke- 
fellow, and separated from so burdensome and 
dangerous a companion? 

2. I must depart from all the former pleasures 
of this body. I must taste no more sweetness in 
meat or drink, in rest or action, or any ~i uch thing 
as now delights me. Houses and lands, goods and 
wealth must all be left; and the place where I live 
must know me no more. All I labored for, or 
took delight in, must be no more to me than if 
they had never been. But consider, O my soul! 
Thy former pleasures are already past. Thou 
losest none of them by death, for they are all lost 
before; unless immortal grace has made them im- 
mortal by sanctifying them. All that death does 
to them is to prevent the repetition of them upon 
earth. Is not the pleasure which we lose bj^ death 
common to every brute ? Meat is as sweet to 
them, and ease as welcome, and appetite as vehe- 
ment. Why then should it seem hard to us to 
lose that, when God pleases, which we deprive 
the brutes of at our pleasure ? If we are believ- 
ers, we only exchange these delights of life for 
the greater delights of a life with Christ; a com- 
fort which our fellow-creatures the brutes have 
not. Are not the pleasures of life usually embit- 



53 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. HI. 

tered with such pain that ihey seldom counter- 
vail the attending vanity and vexation? It is true, 
nature desires life under sullerings that are tolera- 
ble, rather than die: but that is not so much from 
the sensible pleasure of life, as from mere natural 
inclination to life, which God has implanted in us. 
Do we not willingly interrupt these pleasures eve- 
ry night, when we betake ourselves to sleep? To 
say that rest is my pleasure is but to say, that my 
daily labors and cares are so much greater than 
my waking pleasures, that I am glad to lay by 
both together. If we can thus be content every 
night to die, as it were, to all our waking plea- 
sures, why sliould we be unwilling to die to them 
all at once ? — If they be forbidden pleasures 
which you are unwilling to leave, those must be 
left before you die, otherwise you had better 
never have been born. Every wise and godly 
man casts them off with detestation. Indeed, the 
same cause which makes men unwilling to live a 
holy life, has a great hand in making them unwil- 
ling to die — even because they are loath to leave 
the pleasures of sin. If the wicked be converted, 
he must be gluttonous and drunken no more; he 
must live in pride, vanity, worldly-mindedness, 
and sensual pleasures no more; and therefore he 
draws back from a holy life, as it were from death 
itself. But what is this to those who "have mor- 
tified the flesh with the affections and lusts?" 
Consider also, that these forbidden pleasures are 
the great impediments both of our holiness and 



Chap. III.j AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 53 

of our truest pleasures. One of the reasons why 
God forbids them, is because they hinder us from 
better; and if, for our own good, we must forsake 
them when we turn to God, we should therefore 
be the more willing to die, in order to be free from 
the danger of them ; and especially since death 
will transmit us to infinitely greater pleasures. 

3. I must also depart from the more rational 
pleasures which I have enjoyed in this body ; as, 
for instance, from my present studies, which are 
delights far above those of sensual sinners. But 
let me consider — how small is our knowledge 
compared with our ignorance! How little does 
the knowledge of the learned differ from the 
thoughts of a child! As trifles are the matter of 
childish knowledge, so artificial words and forms 
make up more of the learning of the world than 
is commonly understood. God, and the life to 
come, are little better known by the learned, and 
often much less than by many of the unlearned. 
Of how little use is it to know what is contained 
in many hundred volumes that fill our libraries, 
and have given their authors the name of virtuosi ; 
not for their having the virtue to live to God, or 
evercome temptations from the flesh and the world, 
and secure their everlasting hopes ! Much of our 
reading and learning, alas! does us more harm 
than good. Many a precious hour is lost in them, 
that should be employed in higher pursuits. To 
many, I fear, it is as unholy a pleasure as others 
take in thinking of lands and honors; only the 



54 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Cbap. Ill 

more dangerous for being the less suspected. I 
know the knowledge of natural things is valuable, 
and may be sanctified, and made some way useful 
to my highest ends, and I would be at any ex- 
pense to procure more. But I must earnestly 
pray, "May the Lord forgive me the hours that 
I have spent in reading things less profitable, for 
the sake of pleasing a mind that would fain know 
every thing, instead of spending them for the in- 
crease of holiness in myself and others." Yet I 
must thankfully acknowledge to God, that "from 
my youth he taught me to begin with things of 
the greatest weight, and to refer most of my other 
studies thereto, and to spend my days under the 
motives of necessity and profit to myself, and 
those that were committed to me." I would have 
men most relish that learning in their health 
which they will find sweetest in sickness, and 
when near to death. And, alas ! how expensive 
a vanity is this knowledge! Though it little dif- 
fers from a pleasant dream, yet to attain a little 
excellency in it, how many laborious days and 
weeks must it cost us! "Much study is a weari- 
ness of the flesh, and he that increaseth know- 
ledge increaseth sorrow." What painful diseases 
and loss of bodily ease and health has it occa- 
sioned me! What envy and opposition has it ex- 
posed me to ! And should a man be loath to die 
for fear of leaving such troublesome, costly learn- 
ing and knowledge? Let me especially consider 
that we shall certainly have a nobler sweeter, and 



Chap. 111.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 55 

more extensive knowledge than is here attainable. 
Love never fails, and we can love no more than 
we know : " But prophecies shall fail ; tongues 
shall cease ; knowledge," such as we now have, 
*' shall vanish away. When I was a child I spake 
as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a 
child ; but when I became a man I put away child- 
ish things. For now we see through a glass dark- 
ly, but then face to face ; now I know in part, but 
then shall I know, even as also I am known;" for 
though my knowledge will not be like that of the 
blessed God, it will be like that of holy spirits. 
In order for a physician to describe the disease of 
his patient, he needs much reading and close in- 
quiry ; and after all, he goes much upon conjec- 
tures, and his knowledge is mixed with many un- 
certainties and mistakes ; but when he opens his 
corpse his knowledge is more full and true, and 
obtained with greater ease and speed. A coun- 
tryman knows the town, fields, and rivers, plants, 
and animals, where he dwells, with ease, pers- 
picuity, and certainty, when mere geographical 
knowledge is liable to many mistakes. So the 
sight of God and heaven will deserve the name of 
wisdom, while our present glimpse is but philoso- 
phy or the love of wisdom. We should not, there- 
fore, fear death, for fear of losing our knowledge; 
but rather long for the world of glorious light, 
that we may get out of this darkness, into easy, 
joyful, and satisfying knowledge. 

Friendship is one of the more rational plea- 



56 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [cbap. I/J. 

sures enjoyed in this body, and from wiiich I must 
depart. lie that believes not that there are far 
more and better friends in heaven than there are 
on earth, believes not, as he ought, that there is a 
heaven. Our friends here are wise; but they are 
also unwise. They are faithful, but partly un- 
faithful. They are holy, but, alas! too sinful. 
They have the image of God, but it is blotted and 
dishonored by their faults. They do God and his 
church much service ; but they also do too much 
for Satan, even when they intend the honor of 
God. They promote the Gospel ; but they also 
hindei it by their weakness and ignorance, their 
selfishness, pride, and passion, their divisions and 
contentions. They are our helpers and comfort- 
ers ; but how often are they also our hinderance, 
trouble, and grief: in heaven they are perfectly 
wise, and holy, and faithful ; and there is nothing 
in them, nor done by them, but what is amiable 
to God and man. With our faithful friends we 
have here a mixture of those that are useless and 
burdensome, or hypocritical and malicious. But in 
heaven there are none but the wise and holy ; no 
hypocrites, no burdensome neighbors, no treache- 
rous, oppressive, or persecuting enemies. Christ 
loved his disciples, his kindred, and all mankind, 
and took pleasure in doing good to all ; and so did 
his apostles; but how poor a recompense had he 
or they from any but from God ! Christ's " breth- 
ren believed not on him." Peter denied him. 
*'A11 his disciples forsook him and flod." 4nd 



Chap. III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRI3T. 57 

%yhat then could be expected from others ? No 
friends have a perfect suitableness to each other; 
and those inequalities that are nearest to us are 
most troublesome. So various and contrary are 
our apprehensions, interests, educations, our tem- 
pers, inclinations, and temptations, that instead of 
wondering at the discord and confusions of the 
world, we may rather admire the providence of 
God which maintains so much order and concord. 
The greatest crimes that have been charged upon 
me, have been those things which I thought to be 
my greatest duties ; and for those parts of my obe- 
dience to God and my conscience which cost me 
dearest, and where I pleased my flesh least, I 
pleased the world least. And is this tumultuous, 
militant world, a place that I should be loath to 
leave 1 

I must depart from all the means of grace^ 
though more precious to me than all earthly en- 
joyments. Shall I love the name of heaven better 
than heaven itself? Is not the possession of glory 
better than the promise of it? If a light and 
guide through the wilderness be good, surely the 
glorious end must be better. It hath pleased God 
that all things on earth, even the sacred Scriptures, 
should bear the marks of our state of imperfec- 
tion. Imperfect persons were the penmen. Im- 
perfect human language is the conveyance. Hea- 
ven will not, to perfect spirits, be made the occa- 
sion of so many errors and controversies as the 
Scriptures are to us imperfect mortals. Yea, heaven 



58 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. III. 

is the more desirable, because there I shall belier 
understand the Scriptures than here I can ever 
hope to do. To leave my Bible, and to go to the 
God and heaven which the Bible reveals, will he 
no otherwise my loss than to leave the picture for 
the presence of my friend. As for mere human 
writings and instructions, the pleasure of my min;-l 
is much abated by their great imperfection; and 
why should I think that my own are blameless? 
I must for ever be thankful for the holy instruc- 
tions and writings of others, notwithstanding hu- 
man frailty ; and so must I be thankful that God 
hath made any use of my own for the good of souls 
and the edification of his church. But how many 
alloys are there to such comforts ? If good men 
and good books or sermons make the world seem 
over-lovely, it will be the mercy of God to abate 
the temptation. When we are dead to the love of 
the godly themselves, of learning, books, and or- 
dinances, so far as they serve a selfish interest 
and tempt our hearts from heavenly aspirations ; 
then indeed "the world is crucified to us, and we 
to it." 

Of all things, a departing soul has least cause 
to fear losing the knowledge of worldly affairs. 
If the sun gives light and heat to the earth, why 
should I think that blessed spirits have no acquain- 
tance with earthly concerns? From the top of a 
hill I can see more than from below ; and shall I 
know less of earth from heaven than I do now? 
It is unlikely that my capacity will be so little, or 



Chap. III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 59 

that Christ and all the angels will be so strange to 
me as to give me no notice of things so interesting 
to my God and Redeemer, to the holy society of 
which I am member, and to myself as a member 
of that society. Spirits are most active and of 
quick and powerful communication. They need 
not send letters, nor write books, nor lift up a 
voice. And as activity, so unity is greatest where 
there is most perfection. Their knowledge, love 
and joy will be one. My celestial advancement, 
therefore, will be no diminution, but an inconceiv- 
able increase, of my desirable knowledge of things 
on earth. If, indeed, I shall know less of things 
below, it will be because the knowledge of them 
is a part of vanity and vexation, which have no 
place in heaven. 1 need not be afraid to hear any 
more of bloody wars, desolated countries, dissi- 
pated churches, persecuted Christians, silenced 
preachers, party conflicts, contentious divines, cen- 
sorious professors of religion, with the cries of 
the poor, or the endless complaints of the melan- 
choly. 

Nor need I fear what other men are pleased to 
suggest, that the church will want me. Is it I, 
or God, that must choose his servants, and cut 
out their work ? Am I doing God's Avork, or my 
own ? If God's, must not he say what, and when, 
and how long? And will not his will and choice 
be best? If I believe not this, how do I take him 
for Tiiy God? Does God, or I, know best what 
is yet to be done, and who is fittest to do it? — 



60 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. III. 

What am I to those more excellent persons who 
in all ages God hath taken out of the world? 
Have not many servants of Christ died in their 
youth, who were far more likely to win souls and 
glorify God than I am, or ever have been? And 
shall I, at seventy-six years of age, after such a 
life of unspeakable mercies, and after almost fifty- 
three years of comfortable help in the service of 
my Lord, be now afraid of my reward, and shrink 
at the sentence of death, and still be desirous to 
stay here, under pretence of farther service ? 
We know not what is best for the church, as God 
does. The church and the world are not ours, 
but his: not our desires, therefore, but his will 
must measure out its mercies. Nothing ever lay 
so heavy on my heart as the sin and misery of 
mankind, and to think how much of the world 
lies in folly and wickedness. And for what can 
I so heartily pray, as for the world's recovery ? 
And it is his will that I should show a holy and 
universal love, by praying, " Let thy name be 
hallowed ; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done 
on earth, as it is in heaven." Yet, alas ! how un- 
like is earth to heaven ! What sin and ignorance, 
confusion and cruelties, reign and prosper here! 
Without a wonderful change, even by a general 
miracle, how little hope appears that ever these 
prayers should be answered ? Indeed, it make? 
us better to desire that others may be better ; and 
God seems to permit the ignorance and confusion 
of thig world, to help us the more to value and 



Chap. III.] AND TO EE WITH CHRIST. 01 

desire the world of light, love, and order. If I 
am any way useful to the world, undeserved mer- 
cy hath made me so, for which I must be thank- 
ful; how long I shall be so, is not my business to 
determine, but my Lord's. As God will be served 
and pleased by a wonderful variety of animals and 
vegetables, so he will by their successive gene- 
rations. If one flower fall or die, others in future 
summers shall arise from the same root. God 
will have other generations to succeed us ; let us 
thank him that we have had our time. And could 
W8 without selfishness love others as ourselves, 
and God as God, it would comfort us at death to 
have others survive us, and the world continue, 
and God still be God, and be glorified in his -works. 
Love would say, " I shall live in my successors ; 
I shall more than live in the life of the world ; 
and most of all, in the eternal life and glory of 
God." Nor will God try us with too long a life 
of temptations, lest we should grow too familiar 
where we should be strangers, and be utterly 
strangers to our home. No wonder the world was 
ready for a deluge, by a deluge of sin, when men 
lived six, seven, eight, or nine hundred years. 
Had our great sensualists any hope of living so 
long, they would be like incarnate devils; there 
would be no dwelling near them for the godly. 
Nor will God tire us with too long a life of af- 
ilictions. And shall we grudge at the wisdom 
and goodness which shortens them? Though ho- 
ly duties be excellent and delightful, yet the weak- 
" 6 



62 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. III. 

ness of the flesh makes us liable to weariness, and 
abates the willingness of the spirit. By our wea- 
riness and complaints, our fears and groans, we 
seem to think this life too long; and yet when 
we should yield to the call of God, we draw back 
as if we would have it to be everlasting. 

" Willingly submit, then, O my soul ! It is not 
thyself, but this flesh, that must be dissolved ; this 
troublesome, vile, and corruptible flesh. Study 
thy duty, work while it is day, and let God choose 
thy time ; and willingly stand to his disposal. 
When I die, the Gospel dies not — the church dies 
not — the praises of God die not — the world dies 
not; but perhaps it will grow better, and those 
prayers be answered which seemed to be lost; 
and perhaps some of the seed I have sown will 
spring up when I am dead. If my end was to 60 
good, and glorify God ; when good is done, and 
God is glorified, though I were annihilated, is not 
my end attained ?" " Lord, let thy servant depart 
in peace," even in thy peace, *' which passeth all 
understanding," and which Christ, the Prince of 
peace, gives, and which nothing in the world can 
take away ! " O give me that peace which suits 
a soul who is so near the harbor, even the world 
of endless peace and love ! Call home this soul 
by the encouraging voice of love, that it may joy- 
fully hear, and say. It is my Father's voice ! Invite 
it to thee by the heavenly messenger! Attract it 
by the tokens and foretastes of love ! The mes- 
sengers that invited me to the feast of grace, com- 



Chap III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 63 

pelled me to come in without constraint; thy ef- 
fectual call made me willing. And is not glory 
better than the grace which prepares for it? Shall 
I not more willingly come to the celestial feast? 
What was thy grace for, but to make me desirous 
of glory and the way to it? Why didst thou dart 
down thy beams of love, but to make me love 
thee, to call me up to the everlasting centre? 
Was not the feast of grace as a sacrament of the 
feast of glory? Did I not take it in remembrance 
of my Lord till he come? Did not he that told 
me, ' All things are ready,' tell me also, that ' He 
is gone to prepare a place for us, and that he 
will have us to be with him and see his glory?' 
They that are given him, and drawn to him, by 
the Father on earth, do come to Christ; give now, 
and draw my departing soul to my glorified Head ! 
As I have glorified thee on earth in the measure 
of thy grace bestowed upon me, pardon the sins 
by vrhich I have offended thee, and glorify me in 
the vision and participation of my Redeemer's 
glory! Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, with 
fuller life, and light, and love, into this too dead, 
and dark, and disaffected soul, that with joyful 
willingness it may come unto thee ! 

*' Willingly depart, O lingering soul ! — it is from 
a Sodom ; though there be righteous Lots in it, 
they are not without their sad blemishes. Hast 
thou so often lamented the general blindness and 
wickedness of the world, and art thou loath to 
leave it for a better? How often wouldest thou 



64 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. Ill 

have rejoiced to see but the dawning of a day of 
universal peace and reformation ! And wouldest 
thou not see it, where it shines in perfect beauty? 
Hast thou prayed and labored so hard to have the 
pleasure of a light at midnight; and is it not thy 
desire to behold the sun itself? Will the things 
of heaven please thee no where but on earth, 
where they are least and weakest? Away, away! 
Vindictive flames are ready to consume this sinful 
world. Sinners are trea?iuring up wrath against 
the day of wrath. Look not then behind thee. 
Away from this unhappy world! ' Press toward 
the mark, looking for and hastening unto the 
coming of the day of God.' — As this world has 
used thee, so it would still do. When thou hast 
fared best in it, no thanks to it but to God. If 
thou hast had manifold deliverances and preser- 
vations, and hast been fed with angels' food, love 
not the wilderness, but thy heavenly guide, pro- 
tector, and deliverer. Does God in his great 
mercy make pain and feebleness the harbingers 
of death, and wilt thou not understand their busi- 
ness? Wouldest thou dwell with thy beloved bo- 
dy in the grave, where it will rot in loathsome 
darkness? If not, why should it now, in its pain- 
ful languor, seem to thee a more pleasing habita- 
tion than the glorious presence of thy Lord ? In the 
grave it will be at rest, nor at the night wish, O 
that it were morning, nor in the morning say 
When will it be night? And is this a dwelling 
fit for thy delight? Patience in it, while God will 



Chap. III.J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 65 

SO try thee, is thy duty : but is such patience a 
better and sweeter life than rest and joy?" 

But, alas! how deaf is flesh to reason! I have 
reason enough to be willing to depart, even much 
more willing than I am. O that I could be as 
willing as reason convinces me I ought to be ! 
Could I love God as much as I know I ought to 
love him, then I should desire to depart and to be 
with Christ as much as I know I ought to desire 
it. But death must be a penalty, even where it is 
again; and therefore it must meet with some 
unwillingness. Because we willingly sinned, we 
must unwillingly suff*er. All the faith and reason 
in the world will not make death to be no penalty, 
and therefore will not take away all unwillingness. 
No man ever reasoned or believed himself into a 
love of pain and death, as such. But since the 
gain is unspeakably greater than the pain and 
loss, therefore faith and holy reason may make 
our willingness greater than our unwillingness, 
and our hope and joy than our fear and sorrow. 
" Come then, my soul, and think believingly what 
is best for thee, (which will be the subject of the 
next chapter,) and wilt thou not love and desire 
that most which is certainly best?" 



6* 



66 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV. 

CKAFTER IV. 

JVhy it is far better to be with Christ, 

To say or hear that it is far better to be with 
Christ, is not enough to make us willing. If I 
firmly believe that it is best for me, I shall then 
desire it. And have I not reason to believe it? 
Let me seriously consider, for my full conviction 
— by what means I am preparing for this happi- 
ness — how this happiness is the end for whicli I 
am preparing — and how it will perfect my know- 
ledge, will, and activity in doing good. 

1. The means by which I am preparing to be 
with Christ, abundantly show that it is far better 
to be with him. As for instance, that is best for 
me which my heavenly Father's love dccigns and 
chooses for my good. I hope I shall never dare 
to say or think that he is mistaken, or that I could 
have chosen better for myself. Many a time hatli 
the wise and good will of God crossed my foolish 
rebellious will, and afterward I have perceived it 
was best. It is not an enemy nor a tyrant that 
made me, preserves me, or calls me hence. The 
more I have tried him, the better I have found him. 
Had I better obe3^ed his ruling will, how happy 
had I been! And is not his disposing and reward- 
ing will as good? Should I not die till myself or 
any of my dearest friends would have it, would 
this rejoice me? O foolish, sinful! soul, is it not 



Chap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 67 

far better io be at God's choice than my own or 
any man's " Be of good cheer then, O my soul ! 
it is thy Father's voice that calls thee hence — his 
voice that called thee into being, and out of a state 
of sin and death, and bade thee live unto him — that 
called thee so often from the grave, forgave thy 
sins, renewed thy strength, restored thee to the 
comforts of his house and service, and hath so 
graciously led thee through this howling wilder- 
ness almost to the sight of the promised land. 
And wilt thou not willingly go when such infinite 
love calls thee ? Art thou not desirous of his pre- 
sence ? Art thou afraid to go to him who is the 
only cure of thy fears ? What was it but this glo- 
ry to which he elected thee ? — not to the riches 
and honors of this world, or to the pleasures of 
the flesh, but chose thee in Christ to an inheritance 
in glory? If God chose thee to blessedness, refuse 
it not thyself, nor behave like a refuser." That is 
my best state which my Savior purchased, and 
promised as best. As he bought me not with sil- 
ver and gold, so neither did he live and die to 
make me rich and great in the world. Who have 
more of these than they that have least of Christ? 
Is it heaven that cost so dear a price as his me- 
rits, sacrifice, and intercession? Is that the end 
of so wonderful a design of grace, and shall I now 
be unwilling to receive the gift? That is best for 
me, for which God's holy Spirit is preparing me. 
He is not persuading me from day to day to love 
the world, but to come off from it, and to set my 



68 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV. 

heart upon things above. And would I now undo 
all, or cross and frustrate all his operations? Has 
grace been so long preparing me for glory, and 
shall I be loath to take possession of it? If I am 
not willing, I am not yet sufficiently prepared. 

If heaven be not b-etter for me than earth, God's 
word and ordinances have been all in vain. Sure- 
ly that is my best, which is the gift of the better 
covenant; which is secured to me by so many 
sealed promises ; to which I am directed by so 
many sacred precepts, doctrines, and examples ; 
and for which I have been called to hear and read, 
meditate, watch, and pray. Was it fleshly inte- 
rest or a longer life of worldly prosperity which 
the gaspel covenant secured to me, which the sa- 
craments and Spirit sealed to me, which the Bible 
was written to direct me to, which ministers 
preached to me, which my books were written 
for, and for which I prayed and served God ? Or 
was it not for his grace on earth and glory in hea- 
ven ? And is it not better for me to have the end 
of these means, than lose them and my hopes? 
Wliy have I used them, if I would not attain their 
end? That is my best state to which all God's 
fatherly providences tend. All his sweeter mer- 
cies and sharper corrections are to make me par- 
taker of his holiness, and lead me to glory in the 
way in which my Savior and all his saints have 
gone before me. All things work together for the 
b*;st to me, by preparing me for that which is best 
•'vjdced. Both calms and storms are to bring me 



;V' 



Chap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 69 

to this harbor; if I take them but for themselves 
and for this present life, I mistake them, unthank- 
fully vilify them, and lose their end, life, and 
sweetness. Every word and work of God, every 
day's mercies and changes look at heaven and in- 
tend eternity. God leads me no other way ; if I 
follow him not, I forsake my hope in forsaking 
him ; if I follow him, shall I be unwilling to be 
at home and arrive at the end of all this way? 

Certainly that is best for me which God requires 
me principally to value, love, and seek. If my 
business in the world be only for the things of the 
world, how vain a creature is man, and how little 
is the difference between waking and sleeping, life 
and death ! And is it my duty to seek heaven with 
all the fervor of my soul and diligence of my life, 
and is it not best to find itl — That must needs be 
best for me, for the sake of which all other things 
must be forsook. It is folly to forsake the better 
for the worse ; but Scripture, reason and con- 
science tell me that all this world should be for- 
saken for the least hope of heaven, when it comes 
in competition. A possible everlasting glory should 
be preferred before a certainly perishing vanity. 
I am sure this life will shortly be nothing to me, 
and therefore it is nothing now. And must I for- 
sake all for my everlasting hopes, and yet be un- 
willing to enter on the full possession ? That is 
like to be our best which is our most mature state. 
Nature is ever tending toward perfection. Every 
fruit is best when it is ripe. And does God cause 



70 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV 

saints to grow to greater ripeness only to be use- 
less? It is not credible. "Our souls return to 
God that gave them ;" and though he needs them 
not, he puts them to such heavenly uses as their 
maturity fits them for. Since love has ripened me 
for itself, shall I not willingly drop into its hand? 
That is like to be best which has been most es- 
teemed and desired by the wisest and holiest in all 
ages, and which all men at death allow to be best. 
No men are usually worse than those who have no 
belief or hope of a life to come. And none are 
so holy, just, and sober, so charitable to others, 
and so useful to mankind, as those who firmly be- 
lieve and hope for a state of immortality. And 
shall I fear such a state ? — And is not that my best 
state which most displeases my greatest enemies? 
I need not say how much Satan does to keep me 
and other men from heaven ; and in order to that, 
how he tempts us with worldly honor, pleasure, 
and wealth. Satan would not have me get to hea- 
ven, and shall I also be unwilling? All these things 
tell me that it is best to be with Christ. 

2. As the end of all my preparation, it must be 
far better for me to be with Christ. Is not dwell- 
ing with God in glory far better than in this sinful 
world ? He that is our beginning is our end. 
For our end all means are used : and the end at- 
tained is the rest of souls. How often has my 
soul groaned under a sense of distance, darkness, 
and alienation from God ! How often has it looked 
up and panted after him, and said, "As the harl 



Chap. IV.J TO BE WITH CHRIST. *!\ 

panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul 
after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for 
the living God ; when shall I come and appear 
before God? Whom have I in heaven but thee? 
and there is none upon earth that I desire beside 
thee. It is good for me to draw near to God." 
Wo to me if I dissembled: if not, why should 
my soul draw back ? Is it because death stands in 
the way? And is not my passage secured by the 
love of my Father, and .the resurrection and in- 
tercession of my Lord ? Can I see the light of 
heavenly glory in this darksome shell and womb 
of flesh ? All creatures are more or less excellent 
and glorious, as God communicates most of him- 
self to them. They are said to be nearest to him 
that have the noblest natures. Therefore to be as 
near as my nature was intended to approach, is 
but to attain the end and perfection of ray nature. 
As I am now under the government of his officers 
on earth, so I expect to be in heaven. If the law 
was given by angels, and the angel of God was 
in the burning bush, and the angel conducted the 
people through the wilderness, and yet all these 
things are ascribed to God ; much more near and 
glorious will the divine government be in heaven. 
Here I am made, ruled, and sanctified for the good 
of many, as. above my own. I am sure I must be 
finally for my glorified Redeemer ; and that he 
who is the first will be the ultimate cause. In this, 
respect I shall be as near to him as comports with 
the rank and order of my nature. It is the honor 



7'Z WHY IT IS FAK BETTER [Chup. IV. 

of a servant to have an lionorable master, and to 
be aj)pointv°,d to the most honorable work. Ivly 
advancement will be ultimately for God, and in 
such services as are suitable to my spiritual and 
heavenly state. Activity will be my perfection 
and my rest. Though now I know not fully what 
service I must do, 1 know it Avill be good, and 
suitable to the blessed state I shall be in. It is 
not all the use and work of my soul now to care 
for my body, nor will it be hereafter. Though I 
shall not always have a body, I shall always have 
a God, and a Savior, and a world of fellow-crea- 
tures ; and when I shine not in the lantern, nor see 
as in a glass, I shall yet see face to face. To ful- 
fill God's v/iil here would be the fulfilling of my 
ov»^n. I am sure my soul shall live, and that it 
shall live to God, and that I shall fulfill his blessed 
will ; and so far as I am pleased in doing it, it will 
be my felicity. The soul's regular love to the 
body illustrates the love of Christ to his church, 
and to every member. Herein my Savior excels 
me in powerful faithful love. He will save me 
better from pain and death than I can save my 
body, and will more inseparably hold me to him- 
self. If it pleases my soul to dwell in such a 
house of clay, how much more will it please my 
glorified Lord to dwell with his glorified body, 
the church triumphant, and to bless each member 
of it! It v/ould be a kind of death to Christ to 
be separated from his body. And will he take 
incoinparablv greater pleasure in me for ever than 



TO BE WITH CHRIST. 73 

my soul does in my body ? O then let me long to 
be with him ! Though I am naturally loath to be 
absent from the body, let me not be willingly ab- 
sent from the Lord I And though I would not be 
unclothed, had not sin made it necessary, let me 
" groan to be clothed upon with my heavenly habi- 
bitation," to becom# the delight of my Redeemer, 
and to be perfectly loved by love itself! The love 
and delight of my glorified Head must be my feli- 
city. I shall be loved as a living spirit, and not as 
a thing dead and insensible. If I must rejoice here 
with them that rejoice, shall I not rejoice to have 
my Lord rejoice in me and in all his glorified 
ones ? Union will make his pleasure to be much 
my own. It will fitly be said by him, " Enter thou 
into the joy of thy Lord," The heavenly society 
also will joyfully welcome a holy soul. If now 
" there is joy in the presence of the angels of God 
over one sinner that repenteth," what will there 
be over a perfect glorified soul? If our '• angels " 
there " behold our Father's face," how glad will 
they be of our company! And will not love and 
union make their joy my own ? Surely that will 
be my best condition which angels and blessed 
spirits will be best pleased with ; and in that in 
which they most rejoice, I shall most rejoice 
myself. 

3. It is far better for me to be with Christ, as 

thereby my knoioledge ivili he perfected. A soul 

that is with Christ is more likely to know Christ 

and the Father in him, than a soul that is present 

D 7 



74 WHV If rs f AR BETTER [Chap. IV, 

with the body and absent from the Lord. What 
less can promise of being with him signify ^ How 
much more excellent will intuitive or immediate 
knowledge be, than our present artificial know- 
ledge? There will be no expensive labor in get- 
ting it. It will have nto mixture of dark and be- 
wildering uncertainty and ambiguity when it is 
acquired. It will be perfectly free from those 
contentions which so much rob the ingenious of 
iheir time, destroy their love, hinder their minds 
from ascending to God and heavenly things, and 
fill the church with sects and parties. Nor will it 
leave any of that dissatisfaction so common among 
the learned, while they have only the shadow of 
knowledge, licking but the outside of the glass, 
and leaving the wine within untasted. What an 
excellency will there be in each of the objects of 
this immediate knowledge ! As for instance, I 
shall know God better. If an angel from heaven 
came down on earth to tell us all of God that we 
•would know, Avho would not turn his back on li- 
braries and universities, to go and discourse with 
such a messenger? For one hour's talk with him 
what travel should I think too far, what cost too 
great ? But here we must only have such intima- 
tions as will exercise faith, excite desire, and try 
us under the temptations of the world and the flesh. 
The light of glory is to reward the victory ob- 
tained by the conduct of the light of grace. God 
in great mercy even here begins the reward. 
They that •• follow on to know the Lord," usually 



Chap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 75 

find such increase of light, not consisting in vain 
notions, but in the quickening and comforting 
knowledge of God, as greatly encourages them, 
and draws them still on to seek more. If the 
pleasure the mind has in common knowledge 
makes men spend successive years in traversing 
sea and land, or in turning over multitudes of te- 
dious volumes ; who then upon earth can possibly 
conceive how great a pleasure it will be for a glo- 
rified soul to see the Lord ? All the pleasure I 
shall have in heaven in knowing any of the works 
of God, will be in my beholding God himself, his 
being, wisdom, love, and goodness, in those works ; 
for he is the life and glory of them all. *' Blessed 
are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." 
And doubtless it will be no small part of my de- 
light to know the universe better. It is exceed- 
ingly pleasant to know the least particle of the 
works of God. With what diligence and delight 
have men endeavored to anatomize a body, yea, a 
small part of a carcass, for to know and describe 
worms and insects, plants and minerals ! But no 
man ever yet perfect!}'' knew the nature and uses 
of the least of them. If, indeed, we clearly saw 
the nature and connection of every creature in sea 
or land, what a delightful spectacle would this 
spot of the creation be ! How much more to see 
the whole creation! And I shall have as much 
of this as I shall be capable of; the wonders of 
God's works shall raise my soul in admiring joy- 
ful praise for ever. We have desires after such 



7G WHY IT IS TAR RCTTER [Chap. IV- 

Icnowledge in our present dark and infant state, 
for " the works of the Lord are great, sought out 
of all them that have pleasure therein." As these 
desires are of God, as he hath made his works to 
be known for his glory, and as it is little that is 
known of them by mortals, therefore they are 
known by them in heaven, who are fitted to im- 
prove that knowledge to his praise. If Christ, the 
wisdom of God will teach me the true philosophy 
how to love God and please him in all things here, 
I shall quickly in heaven be a perfect philosopher. 
Satan tempted Christ by " showing him all the 
kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them," 
promising to " give him all if he would wor- 
ship him;" but God will show me more than Satan 
could show, and give me more of that which is best, 
than Satan could give. 

Nor will it be the least of my felicity in heaven, 
that I shall better know Jesus Christ, and all the 
mystery of our redemption by him. O beatifying 
knowledge ! to know him, " in whom are hid all 
the treasures of wisdom and knowledge!'' To 
knoAv the mystery of his eternal Godhead, of his 
created nature, and of the union of both, and to 
see God's wonderful design and gracious work, 
in him, laid open to our clearest view ! Then all 
the dark texts concerning his person, offices, and 
works, will be fully understood. All those strange 
and difficult things which were the great exercise 
and honor of faith, will then be plain. Difficulties 
will no more be Satan's advantage, to tempt us 



Chap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 77 

to unbelief or doubting. The sight of the glory 
of my Lord will be my glory. If now, '* though 
we see not Christ, yet believing, we love him, and 
rejoice in him with joy unspeakable and full of 
glory;" what love and joy will the everlasting 
sight of our blessed Head excite there in the souls 
of all the glorified ! I shall better (O how much 
better!) " know the heavenly Jerusalem, the tri- 
umphant Church, the blessed angels and glorified 
saints." What a sight, what a joyful sight will 
death show me, by drawing aside the vail ! or ra- 
ther the Lord of life, by turning death to my ad- 
vantage ! As I now know the several rooms in 
my house, so shall I then know the " many man- 
sions " which, Christ says, " are in his Father's 
house." If Nehemiah and the pious Jews rejoiced 
so much at seeing the walls of Jerusalem repaired, 
and others at the rebuilding the temple, O what 
a joyful sight shall I have of the heavenly Jeru- 
salem ! I know that angels now love us, minister 
unto us, rejoice in our good, and are themselves 
far more holy and excellent creatures than we 
are ; it is therefore my comfort to think that I 
shall better know them, and live in near and per- 
petual acquaintance and communion with them, 
and bear my part in the same choir in which they 
preside. And when I think how sweet one wise 
and holy companion has been to me here on earth, 
and how lovely his graces have appeared ; O what 
a sight will it be, when we shall see the millions 
of " the spirits of just men made perfect," shining 



78 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Ciiap. IV. 

with Christ in perfect wisdom and holiness ! It 
this world was full of wise, just, and holy persons, 
how lovely would it be! If one king^dom consist- 
ed of such, it would make us loath to die and 
leave such a country, were it not that the more 
the beauty of goodness appears, the more the per- 
fection of it is desired It is pleasant to me to 
pray in hope that earth may be made more like 
heaven, which is now become so like hell : but 
when I shall see the society perfected in number, 
holiness, and glory, employed in the high and 
joyful praises of Jehovah, — the glory of God and 
the Lamb shining on them, and God rejoicing 
over them as his delight, and myself partaking of 
the same — that will be the truly blessed day. And 
why does my soul, imprisoned in flesh, no more 
desire it? — I shall better understand all the word 
of God. Though I shall not have the use for it I 
now have in this life of faith, yet I shall see more 
of God's wisdom and goodness, love, mercy, and 
justice appearing in it, than ever man on earth 
could do. As the creatures, so the Scriptures 
are perfectly known only by perfect spirits. I 
shall then know how to solve all doubts, reconcile 
all seeming contradictions, and expound the hard- 
est prophecies. That light will show me the ad- 
mirable method of those sacred words where dark 
minds now suspect confusion. How joyfully shall I 
then praise my God and Savior for giving his church 
so clear a light to guide them through this dark- 
some wilderness, and so sure a promise to sup- 



Chap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 79 

port them till they are come to life eternal ! How 
joyfully shall I bless him, who, by that immortal 
seed, regenerated me to the hope of glory, and 
ruled me by so holy and just a law ! 

In that world of light I shall better understand 
God's works of providence. The wisdom and 
good of them is little understood in small par- 
cels. It is the union and harmony of all the parts 
which displays the beauty of them. And no one 
can see the whole together but God, and they that 
see it in the light of his celestial glory. Then I 
shall clearly know why God prospered the wicked, 
and so much afflicted the righteous; why he set 
up the ungodly, and put the humble under their 
feet ; why he permitted so much ignorance, pride, 
lust, oppression, persecution, falsehood, and other 
pins in the world ; why the faithful are so few ; 
and why so many kingdoms of the world are left 
in heathenism, Mahomelanism, and infidelity. I 
shall know why I suffered what I did, and how 
many great deliverances I had, and how they were 
accomplished. All our misinterpretations of God's 
works and permissions will then be rectified, and 
all our controversies about them be at an end. 
Among all these works I shall especially know 
more of the nature and excellency of God's mer- 
cies. The lively sense of love and mercy makes 
lively Christians abound in love to God, and in 
mercy to others ; but the enemy of God and man 
labors to obscure and diminish our views of di- 
vine love and mercy. Ingratitude is great misery, 



80 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER. [Chap. IV. 

as gratitude is true pleasure. We now receive 
thousands of mercies which we undervalue. But 
when I come to the state and work of perfect gra- 
titude, I shall perfectly know all the mercies ever 
received by myself, by my neighbors and friends, 
by the church, and the world. Mercies remem- 
bered must be the matter of our everlasting thanks, 
and we cannot be perfectly thankful for them 
without a perfect knowledge of them. The worth 
of Christ and all his grace of the Gospel, and of 
all divine ordinances and church privileges, of our 
books and our friends, our health, and all the con- 
veniences of our lives, will be better understood 
in heaven than the most holy and thankful Ohri.s- 
tian ever understood them here. Then sliall I be 
much better acquainted with myself. I shall know 
the nature of souls and the way of their operations, 
and how the Spirit of God works upon them, and 
how that Spirit is sent from Christ to work upon 
them. I shall know what measure of grace I my- 
self had, and how far I was mistaken concerning 
it. I shall know more of the number and great- 
ness of my sins, and of my obligation to pardon- 
ing and healing grace. Yes, I shall know more 
of my body as the habitation of my soul, and how 
far it helped or hindered me, and what were all 
its diseases, and how wonderfully God supported, 
preserved, and often delivered me. I shall also 
far better know my fellow-creatures. The good 
and bad, the sincere and hypocrites, will there be 
discerned. Actions that were here thought hon* 



Chap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 81 

orable, will then be found to be odious and unjust; 
and wickedness will no more be flattered or ex- 
tenuated. Many a good and holy work which 
\vas reproached as criminal, will there be justified, 
honored and rewarded. Once more, I shall bet- 
ter know from what enemies, sins and dangers I 
was here delivered; what stratagems of Satan, and 
his instruments God defeated; how many snares 
I escaped; and how great is my deliverance by 
Christ from the wrath to come. All this know- 
ledge will thus be advanced to my glorified soul, 
beyond my present conceptions ; and is it not there- 
fore far better to be with Christ ? 

4. It is far better for me to be with Christ, for 
the sake of having my will perfected. The will 
is to the soul what the heart is to the body. My 
greatest evil is there, and there will be my greatest 
good. Satan did most against it, and God will 
do most for it. When I am with Christ my will 
no more will be tied to a body, which is now the 
grand snare and enemy of my soul, by drawing my 
love and care, my fears and sorrows, to itself, and 
turning them from my highest interest. There 
my will shall not be tempted by a world of infe- 
rior good ! nor shall meat and sleep, possessions 
and friends, be my snares and dangers ; nor shall 
the mercies of God be the tempter's instruments ; 
nor shall I have the flatteries or frowns of tyrants ; 
nor will bad company infect or divert me ; nor the 
errors of good men seduce me ; nor the reputation 
of the wise and learned draw me to imitate them 



82 WHY IT 19 FAR BETTER Chap. IV.] 

in any sin. There will be none of Satan's solici- 
tations to pervert my will. 

My will shall there be better than here, as it 
shall have nothing in it displeasing to God — no 
sinful inclination, no striving against God's Spirit, 
no grudging at any word or work of God, nor 
any principle of enmity or rebellion left. There 
it shall have no inclination to injure my neighbor, 
or to do any thing against the common good ; and 
there it shall have nothing in it opposite to itself; 
no more "law of my members warring against 
the law of my mind ;" no more contrariety be- 
tween sense and reason ; but all will be unity and 
peace within. 

There Christ will have perfectly sanctified my 
will, and made it conformable to his own, and to 
his Father's will. This is at least his meaning, 
when he prays, " that all his disciples may be 
one, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, 
that they also may be one in us, that they may 
be one, even as we are one." I shall love and will 
the same that God loves and wills. And how can 
the will of man have greater honor ? Assimilation 
to an earthly king is honorable ; but much more to 
angels ; but most of all to be like God. Indeed, 
here the divine image in us, is, in its degrees, a con- 
formity to the will of God. But, alas, how many 
thousand wishes and desires have we had which 
are against the will of God ! We shall have the 
full impression of God's will in heaven, as face 
answers to face in a glass, or the wax to the seal, 



Chap. IV. ] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 83 

or the finger of the clock to the motion within, 
or as the echo to the voice. I shall desire and 
never be disappointed. I shall have as much love 
and joy as I wish. Before I desire any thing, I 
shall know whether it be God's will or not, and 
therefore shall never wish any thing that shall 
not be accomplished. Yea, my will shall be my 
enjoyment ; for it shall not be the desire of what 
I want, but a complacency in what I possess. I 
shall want nothing. I shall thirst no more. Rightly 
is the will itself called love. My will shall be full 
of perfect joy, when enjoying love and pleasure 
will be my will. Thus shall I have within myself 
a spring of living waters. My will shall be con- 
firmed and fixed in this conformity to the will of 
God. Now, both understanding and will are so 
lamentably mutable, that, farther than God pro- 
mises to uphold us, Ave know not one day what 
we shall think, judge, or will the next. But when 
love becomes our fixed nature, we shall be no 
more weary of loving, than the sun of shining. 
God himself will be the full and everlasting object 
of my love. Perfect joyful complacency in God 
is the heaven which I desire and hope for. In 
God there is all that love can desire for its full 
everlasting feast. The nature of man's will is to 
love good, as good. God, who is infinitely good 
in himself, will be that most suitable good to me. 
He has all in himself that I need or can desire. 
There is nothing for love to cleave to, either 
above him, beyond him, or without him. He is 



S4 WHY IT IS TAR BETTER. [Chop. IV. 

willing to be beloved by me. He disdains not my 
love. He might have refused such affections as 
have so often embraced vanity and filth. But 
he commands my love, and makes it my greatest 
duty. He invites and entreats me, as if he were 
a gainer by my happiness. He seeks to me to 
seek to him, and is both the first and most earnest 
suitor. He that so valued my cold imperfect love 
to him on earth, will not reject my perfect love 
in heaven. And he is near to me, not a distant 
God out of my reach, nor unsuitable to my love. 
Blind unbelievers may dream that he is far ofl"; 
but even now he is as nigh to us as we are to 
ourselves. When he would sanctify us to love 
him, he brings us nigh to himself in Christ. Here 
we see him in his works and word ; and there Ave 
shall see him in all the perfect glory of his works, 
and shall delightfully love that glorious perfection 
of the universe, even the image of God in all the 
world. I shall especially love the holy society, 
the triumphant universal church, consisting of 
Christ, angels, and saints. God himself loves 
them more than his inferior works, and my love, 
according to its measure, will imitate his. 

" Think here, O my soul, how sweet thy con- 
dition will be, to love the Lord Jesus, thy glorified 
head, with perfect love I When the glory of God, 
which shines in him, will feast thy love with full 
and everlasting pleasure ! The highest created 
perfection of power, wisdom, and goodness, re- 
fulgent in him, will not permit thy love to cease 



Chap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 85 

or abate its fervor. When thou shalt see in the 
glorified church the precious fruits of Christ's re- 
deeming grace and love ; and when thou shalt see 
thyself possest of perfect happiness by his love 
to thee, and shalt remember vi'hat he did for thee, 
and in thee, here on earth ; how he * called thee 
with a holy calling ;' how he ' washed thee in 
his blood from all thy sins ;' how he kindled in 
thee desires after glory ; how he renewed thy na- 
ture ; how he instructed, guided, and preserved 
thee from sins, enemies and sufferings ; all this 
will constrain thee everlastingly to love him. 
Think, also, O my soul, how delightful it will be 
to love those angels who most fervently love the 
Lord ! They will be lovely to thee, as they have 
loved thee; and more as they have been lovers 
of the church and of mankind ; but far more as 
they are so many refulgent stars which continu- 
ally move, and shine, and burn, in perfect love to 
their Creator. O blessed difference between that 
amiable society and this dark, distracted, wicked 
world ! There I shall see or hear no evil, no mix- 
ture of folly or pollution ; no false doctrine ; no 
bad example; no favoring wickedness; no ac- 
cusing goodness, nor hurtful violence; but holy, 
powerful, active love will be all, and do all, as 
their very nature, life, and work. And is not a 
day with them better than a thousand here ? And 
with holy angels I shall also love holy souls that 
are made like them, and joined with them in the 
same society. All their infirmities are there put 

D. 8 



86 WHY IT 18 FAR BETTER [Chttp. IV. 

off, and they also are spirits made up of holy life, 
and light, and love. When I think with what 
fervent love to God, to Jesus Christ, and to one 
another, they will be perfectly united there, grieve 
and blush, my soul, that they should be here 
so disaffected and divided. The imperfect image 
of God upon them is amiable, but through their 
remaining pride, error, and uncharitableness, it is 
hard to live with some of them in peace. O how 
delightful will that communion of saints be where 
perfect love shall make them one I Forget not, 
my soul, how sweet God has made the course of 
my pilgrimage by the fragrance and usefulness of 
his servants' graces ! How sweet have my bosom 
friends been ! How sweet the neighborhood of 
the godly ! How sweet their holy assemblies, 
their writings, conference, and prayers ! What 
then will it be to live in perfect love with perfect 
saints in heaven for ever, and with them perfectly 
to love the God of love !" 

As the act and object of love will constitute my 
future felicity, I shall not be the fountain of my 
own delights, but my receiving from the love of 
God and his creatures shall be sweeter to me than 
my o\trn activity. All love is communicative, but 
none compared with God's. Whatever good is 
done in the woild it is done by love. Therefore 
parents care and provide for children. Therefore 
my house and table are not neglected, nor my 
books and learning forgot, nor my friends des- 
pised, nor my life itself thrown away. If a man 



Chap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 87 

love not his country, posterity, and the common 
good, he will be as a drone in the hive. And if 
created love be so necessary, so active and com- 
municative, much more will be the infinite love of 
the Creator. His love is now the life of nature 
in the livino^, the life of holiness in the saints, and 
the life of glory in them that are glorified. In 
this love I and all the saints shall dwell for ever- 
more. And if I dwell in love, and love in me, 
surely I shall " ever drink of the rivers of plea- 
sure." Had I a great, wise, and good friend, that 
did for me the hundredth part of what God does, 
how dearly should I love him ! '♦ Think then, 
think believingly, seriously, constantly, O my 
soul, what a life thou shalt live for ever in the pre- 
sence and bosom of infinite eternal Love ! He now 
shineth on me by the sun, and on my soul by the 
Sun of righteousness, but it is as through the cre- 
vices of my darksome habitation ; but then he will 
shine on me, and in me, openly, and with the full- 
est streams and beams of love." God is the same 
God in heaven as on earth, but I shall not be the 
same man. Here the windows of my soul are not 
open to his light ; sin has raised clouds, and con- 
sequently storms, against my comforts. The en- 
trances to my soul by the straits of flesh and sense 
are narrow, and they are made narrower by sin 
than they were by nature. Alas, how often would 
Love have spoken comfortably to me, and I was 
not at home to be spoken with, but abroad among 
a world of vanities : or was not at leisure, or was 



88 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV, 

asleep, and not willing to be awaked ! How of- 
ten would Love have come in and dwelt with me, 
and I have unkindly shut him out ! How often 
would he have freely entertained me in secret, but 
I had some trifling company or business that I 
was loath to leave ! When his table has been 
spread for me, and Christ, grace, and glory offered 
to me, how has my appetite been gone, or dull ! 
He would have been all to me, if I would have 
been all for him. But in heaven I shall have none 
of those obstructions. All old unkindness and in- 
gratitude will be forgiven. I shall then be wholly 
separated from the vanity which here deceived me. 
I shall joyfully behold the open face and attend 
the charming voice of glorifying Love, and de- 
lightfully relish his celestial provisions. No 
disease will corrupt my appetite. No sluggishness 
will renew my guilty neglects. " The love of 
the Father, the grace of the Son, and the com- 
munion of the Holy Spirit" will triumph over 
all my folly, deadness, and disaffection ; and my 
God-displeasing and self-undoing averseness and 
enmity will be gone for ever. " Study this hea- 
venly work of love, O my soul ! These are not 
dead or barren studies. It is only love that can 
relish love and understand it. Here the will has 
its taste. What can poor carnal worldlings know 
of glorious love, who study it without love ? What 
sounding brass or tinkling cymbals are they that 
preach of God, and Christ, and heavenly glory, 
without love! But gazing on. the face of lovu in 



Chap. IV.) TO BE WITH CHRIST. 89 

Christ, tasting its gifts, contemplating its glorious 
reign, is the way to kindle the sacred fire in 
thee. The burning-glass must be turned directly 
to the sun, in order to its setting any thing on 
fire. A holy love, like that in heaven, must be 
studiously fetched from heaven, and be kindled 
by the forcsiglit of what is there, and what we 
shall be there for ever. Faith must ascend and 
look within the vail. Thou, my soul, must not live 
a stranger to thy home and hopes, to thy God 
and Savior. The fire that must warm thee is in 
heaven, and thou must come near it, and open 
thyself to its influence, if thou \vilt feel its pow- 
erful efficacy. It is night and winter with carnal 
minds, when it is day and summer with those 
that set their faces heavenward." 

But in heaven God will make use of second 
causes even in communicating his love and glory. 
There the Lord Jesus Christ will not only be the 
object of our delightful love, but his love to us 
will be as the vital heat and motion of the heart 
to all the members, the root of our life and joy. 
Did his tears for a dead Lazarus make men say, 
" Behold how he loved him !" What then will the 
reviving beams of heavenly life make us say of 
that love which fills us with the pleasures of his 
presence, and turns our souls into joy itself? 
" Believe, O my soul, thy Savior's love, that thou 
mayest have a foretaste of it, and be fit for com- 
plete enjoyment. Let thy believing be so much 
of thy daily work, that thou maye.st say, "he dwells 



90 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV. 

in thy heart by faith," and "lives in thee," and 
that thy " life in the flesh " is not a fleshly life, 
but '' by the faith of the Son of God, who loved 
thee, and gave himself for thee." Look upon the 
sun, and think with thyself how its motion, light 
and heat are communicated to millions of crea- 
tures all over the earth and in the seas. What if 
all these beams of light and heat were proportion- 
able beams of perfect knowledge, love and joy ! If 
all the creatures under the sun received from it as 
much wisdom, love and joy, as they have of light, 
heat and motion, what a blessed world would it 
be, even a heaven upon earth ! Thus will the 
Sun of glory send forth life, light, and joyful love 
on all the heavenly inhabitants. Therefore now 
begin to live upon the influence of his grace, that 
thou mayest have his name and mark. He has 
not bid me seek his grace in vain. He more than 
bids me seek and ask. He teaches me to pray. 
He makes my prayers, and writes them on my 
heart. He gives me desires, and he loves to have 
me importunate with him, and is displeased with 
me that I will ask and have no more. How then 
comes my soul to be yet so fond of this wretched 
flesh and world, and so backward to go home and 
dwell with Christ ? Alas ! a taste of heaven on 
earth is too precious to be cast away upon such as 
have long grieved and quenched the Spirit, and 
are not, by diligent and patient seeking, prepared 
to receive it. My conscience remembers the fol- 
lies of my youth, and many a later odious sin, and 



Chap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 91 

tells me, that if heaven were quite hid from my 
sight, and I should never have a glimpse of the 
face of glorious eternal Love, it would be just. I 
look upward from day to day, and, better to know 
my God and my home, I cry to him daily, " My 
God, my hopes are better than all the possessions 
of this world ; far better than all the pleasures ot 
sin ! Thy gracious looks have often revived me, 
and thy mercies have been unmeasurable to my 
soul and body. But O how far am I short of 
what, even forty years ago, I hoped sooner to have 
attained ! Where is " the peace that passeth all 
understanding," which should keep my heart and 
mind " through Christ Jesus ?" Where is the see- 
ing, longing, and rejoicing faith? Where is that 
pleasant familiarity with Christ in heaven, that 
would make a thought of them sweeter than the 
thoughts of friends, heahh, or all the prosperity 
and pleasure of this world 1 Do those that " dwell 
in God, and God in them," and have their " hearts 
and conversations in heaven," attain no more 
clear and satisfactory perceptions of that blessed 
state than I have yet attained ? Is there no live- 
lier sense of future joys ? No sweeter foretaste ? 
nor fuller silencing of doubts and fears ? Alas ! 
how many of thy servants are less afraid to go to 
a prison than to their God ; and had rather be ban- 
ished to a land of strangers, than sent to heaven I 
Must I, that am called thy child, and an heir of 
heaven, and a co-heir with Christ, have no more 
acquaintance with my glorified Lord, and no more 



92 X\HY IT 13 FAH BETTER [Chap. IV 

love to thee, who art my portion, before 1 go 
hence? Shall I have no more of the heavenly- 
life, and light, and love 1 Alas ! I have scarce 
enough in my meditations, or prayers, or sermons, 
to denominate them heavenly. And must I go 
hence, so like a stranger, to my home ? Wilt 
thou take strangers into heaven, and know them 
there as thine, who know thee no better here? 
O my God, vouchsafe a sinner yet more of the 
Spirit of thy Son, who came to earth to call up 
earthly minds to God, and to open heaven to all 
believers ! What do I beg so frequently, so ear- 
nestly, for the sake of my Redeemer, as the Spi- 
rit of life and consolation, to show me the recon- 
ciled face of God, and unite all my affections to 
my glorified Head, and draw up this dark drowsy 
soul to love, and long to be with thee ?" 

Alas ! though those are my daily groans, how 
little do I ascend ! I dare not blame the God of 
love, nor my blessed Savior, nor the Sanctifier and 
Comforter of souls. Undoubtedly the cause is 
my sinful resistance of the Spirit, my unthankful 
neglects of grace and glory. But mercy can for- 
give; grace can overcome; and may 1 not hope 
for such a victory before I die? " Lord, I will lie 
at thy doors and pour out my complaints before 
thee ! Thou hast told us how kindly the dogs 
licked the sores of a Lazarus that lay at a rich 
man's gate ; thou hast commended the good Sa- 
maritan for taking care of a wounded man ; thou 
sayest, " Blessed are the merciful ;" thou com- 



Chap. IV.J TO BE WITH CURIST. 93 

mandest us, " Be merciful, as your heavenly Father 
is merciful ;" and shall I wait at thy doors in vain? 
Give me the wedding- garment, without which I 
shall but dishonor thy feast. Thou hast command- 
ed me to rejoice, and how fain would I in this 
obey thee ! O that I had more faithfully obeyed 
thee in ruling- my senses, my thoughts, my tongue, 
and in the diligent improvement of all my talents ; 
then I might more easily have rejoiced. Lord, 
help my love and joy ! How can I rejoice in death 
and darkness ? I hoped I was long since " transla* 
ted from the kingdom of darkness, and delivered 
from the power of the prince of darkness, and 
brought into that light which is the entrance of 
the inheritance of saints ; and yet, alas ! darkness 
is still my misery. There is light round about me 
in thy word and works, but darkness is within me. 
And if my eye be dark, the sun will be no sun to 
me. What is my unbelief but the darkness of 
my soul? Lord Jesus, scatter all these mists! O 
thou Sun of righteousness, make thy way into 
this benighted mind. O send thy advocate to si- 
lence every temptation against thy truth and thee, 
to prosecute thy cause against thy enemies and 
mine, and to witness my sonship and salvation ! 
I know, my Lord, heaven is not far from me, no, 
not a day nor an hour's journey to a separate soul. 
How quick is the communion of my eyes with the 
distant sun ! And couldestthou not show me hea- 
ven in a moment? Is not faith a seeing grace ? If, 
animated bv thee, it can see the invisible God m 



94 WHY IT IS FAR DETTER [Chap. IV. 

the unseen world, the " New Jerusalem, the innu- 
merable company of angels, and the spirits of just 
men made perfect; without thee, it can do no- 
thing," and is nothing. Forgive all my sins, and 
remove this film that sin hath gathered, and my 
enlightened soul will see thy glory ! 1 know this 
vail of flesh must also be rent before I shall see 
thee with open face, and know my fellow-citizens 
above, as I am known. It is not heaven on earth 
I am asking, but that I may see it from mount Ne- 
bo, and have the pledge and the first fruits ! and 
that my faith and hope may kindle love and desire, 
and make me run my race with patience, and live 
and die in the joy which becomes an heir of hea- 
ven ! But if my faith on earth must not increase, 
let it make me the more weary of this dungeon, 
and more fervently wish for the day when all my 
desires shall be satisfied, and my soul be filled 
with thy light and love !" 

And in subordination to Christ I shall also be a 
receiver in heaven from angels and saints. If an- 
gels are greatly useful to me here, much more will 
they be there, where I shall be more capable of 
receiving from them. It will be no more diminu- 
tion to the honor of Christ to make use of my 
fellow-creatures to my joy there than it was here. 
How gloriously will God shine in the glory of the 
blessed ! how delightful will it be to see their per- 
fection in wisdom, holiness, and love ! They will 
love incomparably belter than our dearest friends 
on earth can, who can only pity us in our pains, 



Cbap. IV.j TO BE WITH CHRIST. 95 

and go weeping with our corpses to the grave ; 
but the friends above will joyfully convoy or wel- 
come our souls to their triumphant society. What 
a glorious state will it be, when all the love of an- 
gels and saints in full perfection shall be so united 
as to make one love to one God, and to each other, 
as made one in Christ ! We little know how great 
a mercy it is here, to be commanded to love our 
neighbors as ourselves ; and much more to be ef- 
fectually taught of God to love one another. Did 
we all live in such unfeigned love, earth would re- 
semble heaven. " Go, then, go willingly, O my 
soul ! love joins with light to draw up thy desires. 
Art thou a lover of wisdom, holiness, and love, 
and wouldest thou not be united to the wise and 
holy, who are made up of love? Art thou a hater 
of discords and divisions on earth, and wouldest 
thou not be where all the just are one ? Is not 
thy body, while kept together by an uniting soul, 
in a better state than when it is to be crumbled 
into lifeless dust? and does not death creep on 
thee by a gradual dissolution ? Away, then, from 
this incoherent state ! The farther from the centre, 
the farther from unity. It is now thy weakness 
and imperfection which makes thee so desirous 
that thy house, thy land, thy clothes, thy books, 
yea, thy knowledge and grace, should be thine, 
and thine only. How much more excellent if thou 
couldest say that all these, like the light of the 
sun, are mine, and every one's as well as mine ! 
In heaven, thy knowledge, thy glory and felicity 



96 WHY IT IS FAR GETTER [Chap. 1V» 

shall be thine, and other's as well as thine. The 
knowledge, goodness and glory of all that perfect 
society shall be thine as far as thy capacity ex- 
tends. Then hasten upward, O my soul, with thy 
most fervent desires, and breathe after that state 
with thy strongest hopes, where thou shalt not be 
rich and see thy neighbors poor ; nor be poor 
while they are rich; nor be well while they are 
sick; nor sick while they are well !" Communion, 
as it constitutes the very being of the city of God, 
will be part of every one's felicity, and none will 
have the less for the participation of the rest. This 
celestial communion of saints in one holy church, 
above what is here attainable, is now an article of 
our belief; but believing will soon end in seeing 
and enjoying. 

5. It is also far better for me to be with Chri.st, 
that I may have a perfect activity in doing good. 
There are good works in heaven, and far more 
and better than on earth. There will be more life 
and power for action ; more love to God and one 
another, to excite to action ; more likeness to God 
and Christ in doing good, as well as being good ; 
more union with the beneficent Jesus, to make us 
also beneficent ; and more communion, by each 
contributing to the welfare of the whole, and shar* 
ing in their common returns to God, What the 
heavenly works are we must perfectly know when 
we come thither. " We shall join with the whole 
society," as the Scriptures particularly describe, 
" in giving thanks and praise to God and our Re- 



Chap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 07 

deemer." All passions earnestly desire to be free 
ly exercised, especially our holy affections of love, 
joy, and admiration of Almighty God. In express- 
ing such affections, we naturally desire communion 
with many. Methinks, when we are singing the 
praises of God in great assemblies with joyful and 
fervent spirits, 1 have the liveliest foretaste of hea* 
ven upon earth, and could almost wish that our 
voices were loud enough to reach through all the 
world, and to heaven itself Nor could I ever be 
offended with the sober and seasonable use of in- 
strumental music to help to tune my soul in so 
holy a work. Nothing comforts me more in my 
greatest sufferings, nor seems more fit for me while 
I wait for death, than singing psalms of praise to 
God, nor is there any exercise in which I had ra- 
ther end my life. Should I not then willingly go 
to the heavenly choir, where God is praised with 
perfect love, and joy, and harmony ? Had I more of 
a praising frame, of soul I should long no more for 
that life of praise. I never find myself more will- 
ing to be there than when I most joyfully speak 
or sing the praises of God. Though the *'dead 
praise not God in the grave, nor dust celebrate 
him ;" yet living souls in heaven do it joyfully, 
while their fleshly clothing turns to dust. " Lord, 
tune my soul to thy praises now, that sweet expe- 
rience may make me long to be where I shall do 
it better ! Wherever there is any excellent music, 
I see men naturally flock to it and hear it with 
delight. Surely: had I once heard the heavenly 
1), 9 



98 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV. 

choir, I should echo to their holy songs, and think 
it the truest blessedness to bear my part. My God, 
it is the inward melody of thy Spirit, and my o\\ii 
conscience, that must tune me for the heavenly 
melody. O speak thy love first to my heart, and 
then I shall joyfully speak it to others, and shall 
ardently seek after communion better than that of 
sinful mortals 1 Though my sins make a sad dis- 
cord in my present songs, I hope my sighs and 
tears for sin have had the honor of thine accep- 
tance, who despiseth not a contrite soul. But if 
thy Spirit will sing and speak within me, and help 
me against the jarring murmur of my unbeliev- 
ing heart and pained flesh, I shall then ofl^er 
thee what is more suitable to thy love and grace. I 
confess. Lord, that daily tears and sighs are not un- 
suitable to the eyes and voice of so great a sinner, 
now under thy correcting rod. But 'he that offer- 
eth praise glorifies thee ;' and is not this the ' spirit- 
ual sacrifice, acceptable through Christ, for which 
we are made priests to God ?' 1 refuse not. Lord, 
to lie in tears and groans when thou requirest it, nor 
do thou reject those tears and groans; but, O give 
me better, that I may have better of thine own to 
oflfer thee, and so prepare me for the far better which 
I shall find with Christ!" 

Probably God makes glorified spirits the agents 
of his beneficence to inferior creatures. Where he 
bestows on any the noblest endowments, we see he 
makes most use of such for the benefit of others. 
Christ tells us we shall be like, or equal to the an- 



Chap, v.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 99 

gels, who are evidently the ministers of God for the 
good of his people in this world. The apostle 
says, " the saints shall judge the world" and " an- 
gels ;" intimating that devils and damned spirits 
shall be subjected to the saints. But if there were 
no more for us to do in heaven, but with perfect 
knowledge, love, and joy to hold communion with 
God and all the heavenly society, it is enough to 
excite, in a considerate soul, the most fervent de- 
sires to be at home with God. 



CBAFTXSR V. 



The author breathes after willingness to depart and 
to he with Christ. 

I am convinced that it is far better to depart and 
to be with Christ, than to be here. But this con- 
viction alone will not excite such desires in my 
soul. They are opposed by a natural aversion to 
death, which sin has greatly increased ; by the re- 
mains of unbelief, which avails itself of our dark- 
ness in the flesh and our too great familiarity with 
this visible world ; and also by the want of our 
more lively foretaste of heaven. What must be 
done to overcome this opposition ? Is there no 
remedy? Yes, there is a divine leaching, by which 
we must learn "so to number our days, that we 
may apply our hearts unto wisdom." When we 



100 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V. 

have read and heard, spoken and written the 
soundest truth and strongest arguments, we still 
know as if we knew not, and believe as if we be- 
lieved not, unless God powerfully impresses the 
same things on our minds, and awakens our souls 
to feel what we know. Since we fell from God, 
the communion between our senses and under- 
standing, and also between our understanding and 
our will and affections, is violated, and we are di- 
vided in ourselves by this schism in our faculties. 
All men may easily know that there is an almigh- 
ty, omniscient, omnipresent, eternal, and perfectly 
holy and good God, the maker, preserver, and go- 
vernor of all, who deserves our whole trust, love, 
and obedience ; but how little of this knowledge is 
to be perceived in men's hearts or lives ! AH 
men know that the world is vanity, that man must 
die, that riches cannot then profit, that time is pre- 
cious, and that we have but little time to prepare 
for eternity ; but how little do men seem to have 
of the real knowledge of these plain truths ! In- 
deed, when God comes in with his powerful awak- 
ening light and love, then those things appear 
as different as if wc were beginning to know 
them. All my best reasons for our immortality 
are but as the new-formed body of Adam before 
" God breathed into him the breath of life ;" and 
he only can make them living reasons. To the 
Father of lights I must therefore still look up, 
and for his light and bve I must still wait. I must 
learn both as a student and a beggar. When I 



Chap, v.] AND TO BE WITH CHRTST. 101 

have thought and thought a thousand times, I must 
beg thy blessing, Lord, upon my thoughts. The 
eye of my understanding will be useless or vexa- 
tious to me without thy illuminating beams. O 
shine the soul of thy servant into a clearer know- 
ledge of thyself and kingdom, and love him into 
more divine and heavenly love, and he will then 
willingly come to thee 1 

Why should I, by the fears of death, strive 
against the common course of nature, and against 
my only hopes of happiness ? Is it not •' appoint- 
ed unto men once to die?" Would I have God 
make sinful man immortal upon earth ? When we 
are sinless, we shall be immortal. The love of life 
was given to teach me to preserve it with care and 
use it well, and not to torment myself with the con- 
tinual foresight of death. If it be the misery after 
death that is feared, what have I to do but to re- 
ceive the free reconciling grace which is offered 
me from heaven to save me from such misery, 
and to devote myself totally to him who has pro- 
mised, •' Him that cometh to me, I will in nowise 
cast out ?" Had I studied my duty, and remem- 
bered that I am not my own, and that my times 
are in God's hands, I had been quiet from these 
fruitless fears. Had my resignation and devoted- 
ness to God been more absolute, my trust in him 
would have been more easy. " But, Lord, thou 
knowest that I would fain be thine, and wholly 
thine, and that to thee I desire to live : therefor© 
let me wholly trust thee with my soul." 
D ' „ 0* 



102 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, (.Chap. V. 

Why should I have any remaining doubt of the 
future state of pious separate spirits? My Savior 
has entered into the holiest, and has assured me 
that "there are many mansions in liis Father's 
house," and that when we are "absent from the 
body," we shall be " present with the Lord." 
Who can think that all holy souls that have gone 
Ijcnce from the beginning of the world, have been 
deceived in their faith and hope? and that all 
those whose hope was only in this life have been 
in the right ! Shall I not abhor every suggestion 
ihat contains such absurdities ? Wonderful, that 
Satan can keep up so much unbelief in the world, 
while he must make men fools in order to make 
them unbelievers and ungodly ! 

That my soul has no more lively foretastes of 
heaven, arises from those many willful sins by 
which I have quenched the Spirit, and from the 
soul's imprisonment in the flesh. This, O this is 
the misery and burden of my soul ! Though I 
can say, I love God's truth and grace, his work 
and. servants; yet that I have no more ardent and 
delightful love of heaven, where his loveliness will 
be more fully opened to my soul, is my sin, cala- 
mity, and shame. If I did not see that it is so with 
other of the servants of Christ as well as myself, 
I should doubt whether aflections so dispropor- 
tionate to my profession did not imply an unsound 
faith. It is strange that one who expects quickly 
to see the glorious world, and enter the holy celes- 
tial society, should not be more joyfully affected 



Chap, v.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 103 

with such hopes ! and that 1 should think so much 
of the pain and perishing of the flesh, though it 
be the common way to such an end ! O hateful 
sin, that has so darkened and corrupted souls as 
to indispose them for their only expected happi- 
ness ! What did man, when he forsook the love 
and obedience of his God ? How just that this 
flesh should be our prison, w^hich wc are for ma- 
king our home ! How mournful, that there is no 
more grace and holiness, knowledge of God and 
communion with him in this world ! that so few are 
saints, and those few so very imperfect ! that while 
the sun shines on all the earth, the Sun of righte- 
ousness shines on so small a part of it ! He that 
made us capable of holy and heavenly affections, 
gave us not that capacity in vain. Yet, alas ! how 
little of God and glory enters into the hearts of 
men ! When recovering light shines upon us, 
how unthankfully do v.^e entertain it ! We cannot 
have the conduct and comfort of it while we shut 
our eyes and turn away. And though God give to 
the best not so much of it as they desire, it is an 
unspeakable mercy, that in this darksome world we 
may but hear of a better world, and may seek it 
in hope. We must not grudge in our prison to be 
denied such a presence of our king, and such plea- 
sures of the kingdom, as innocent and free sub- 
jects have. Hope of pardon, and of a speedy de- 
liverance, are great mercies to malefactors. And 
if my want of the knowledge and love of God, and 
of joyful communion with the heavenly societ)% 



104 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V. 

be my prison, and as the suburbs of hel/, should 
it not make me long- for the day of my redemption, 
and the glorious liberty of the sons of God? iVIy 
sincere desires of deliverance, and of holiness and 
perfection, are my evidences that I shall obtain 
them. As the will is the sinner, so the obstinate 
continuance of a will to sin is the cause of con- 
tinued sin. So far as God makes us willing to be 
delivered from sin, so far we are delivered, and 
our imperfect deliverance is the way to more. If 
pains make me groan for ease, and sickness for 
health, why should not my remains of ignorance, 
unbelief, and alienation from God, excite my de- 
sire after the day of my salvation? As it is the 
nature of my sin to draw down my heart from God 
and glory ; so it is the nature of my faith, hope, 
and love, to raise my heart toward heavenly per- 
fection ; not to desire death, but that which is be- 
yond it. And have I been so many years in the 
school of Christ, learning both how to live and 
die, praying for this grace, and exercising it against 
this sinful flesh ; and after all, shall I not find flesh 
more powerful to draw me downward, than faith, 
hope, and love, to carry my desires up to God? 
*• O God, forbid ! O thou that freely gavest me 
thy grace, maintain it to the last against its ene- 
mies, and make it finally victorious ! It came from 
thee ; it has been preserved by thee ; it is on thy 
side, and wholly for thee ; without it I had lived 
as a beast, and should die more miserably than a 
beast; it is thine image that thou lovest: it is a. 



Chap, v.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 105 

divine nature and a heavenly beam. What will a 
soul be without it, but a dungeon of darkness, and 
dead to holiness and heaven 1 Without it who 
shall plead thy cause against the devil, world, and 
flesh 1 Without thy glory, earth is but earth ; and 
without thy grace, earth would be a hell. O rather 
deny me the light of the sun than the light of thy 
countenance ! Less miserable had I been without 
life or being, than without thy grace. Without 
thine and my Savior's help, I can do nothing. 
I could not pray or learn without thee; I never 
could conquer a temptation without thee ; and can 
I die, or be prepared to die, without thee ? I shall 
but say, as Thomas of Christ, I know not whither 
my soul is going, and how can I know the way ? 
My Lord having loved his own which were in the 
world, he loved them unto the end. He even com- 
mended and rewarded those that had continued 
with him in his temptations. Thou lovest fidelity 
and perseverance in thy servants; and wilt thou 
forsake a sinner in his extremit}^ who consents to 
thy covenant, and would not forsake thee ? My 
God, I have often sinned against thee; but thou 
knowest I would fain be thine. I can say with 
Paul, thou art the " God whose I am, and whom 
I serve;" and that I could serve thee better! To 
serve thee is but to receive thy grace, and use it for 
my own and other's good, and thereby please and 
glorify thee. I have nothing to do in this world 
but to seek and serve thee. I have nothing to do 
with my tongue but to speak to thee, and for thee; 



106 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V. 

and with my pen, but to publish thy glory and thy 
will. What have I to do with all my reputation 
and influence over others, but to increase thy 
church, and propagate thy holy truth and service? 
What have I to do with my remaining time, even 
these last and languishing hours, but to look up 
unto thee, and wait for thy grace and thy salvation ? 
O pardon all my carnal thoughts, all my unthank- 
ful treatment of thy grace and love, and all my 
willful sins against thy truth and thee ! Under the 
terrors of the law thou didst even proclaim thyself 
" The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, 
long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth ; 
keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, 
transgression, and sin." And is not "the grace of 
our Lord Jesus Christ " revealed in the Gospel for 
our more abundant faith and consolation ? My 
God, I know I can never be sufficiently confident 
of thy aii-sufficient power, wisdom, and good- 
ness. When I have said, " Will the Lord cast off' 
for ever? and will he be favorable no more? Is 
his mercy clean gone for ever ? Doth his promise 
fail for evermore ? Hath God forgotten to be gra- 
cious? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mer- 
cies ?" Conscience has replied, This is mine in- 
firmity, I never wanted comfort for want of mercy 
in thee, but for want of faith and holiness in my- 
self. And hast thou not mercy also to give rae 
that faith and holiness ? My God, all is of thee 
and through thee, and to thee ; and when I have 
the felicity, the glory of all for ever will be thine. 



I 



Chap, v.] AND TO BE wrrn Christ. 107 

None that trust in thy nature and promise shall 
be ashamed. If I can live and die trusting in thee, 
surely I shall not be confounded. 

Why then should it seem a difficult question how 
ray soul may willingly leave this world and go to 
Christ in peace ! The same grace which regen- 
erated me, must bring me to my desired end, " Be- 
lieve and trust thy Father, thy Savior, and thy 
Comforter. Hope for the joyful entertainments of 
the promised blessedness; and long by love for 
nearer divine union and communion. Thus, O my 
soul, mayest thou depart in peace.'' 

I. Believe and trust the promise of God. How 
sure is it, and how suitable to his love, to the na- 
ture of our souls, and to the operations of every 
grace! " Why, O my soul, art thou so vainly so- 
licitous to have clear, distinct conceptions of the 
celestial world? When thou art possessed of a 
better state, thou shalt know it as a possessor ought 
to do ; for such a knowledge as thou lookest after 
is part of the possession. Thy Savior and his 
frlorified saints are possessors. His knowledge 
must now be thy chief satisfaction. Seek not vain* 
ly to usurp his prerogative. Wouldest thou be a 
God and Savior to thyself? Consider how much 
of the fall there is in this selfish desire to be as God, 
in knowing that which belongs not to thee to 
know. Thou knowest that there undoubtedly is 
a God of infinite perfection, " and that he is a re- 
warder of them that diligently seek him." Labor 
more to know thy duty to this God, and absolutely 



103 T^ILLI.NGXCSS tO DEFAKT, [Chap. V. 

trust him as to the particulars of thy reward. 
Thou didst trust thy parents to provide thee food 
and raiment, and didst implicitly obey them. Thou 
liast trusted phy&iciana to give thee medicines, 
without inquiring after every ingredient. If a pi- 
lot undertake to carry thee to the Indies, thou canst 
trust his conduct without knowing either the ship 
or how to govern it, or the way, or the place to 
which thou art conveyed. And must not thy God 
and Savior be trusted to bring thee aafe to heaven un- 
less he will satisfy all thy inquiries ? The Command 
to be "careful for nothing," and to "cast all thy 
care on God, who careth for thee," obligeth thee 
in all things that are God's part. To dispose of 
a departing soul is God's part. O how much evii 
is there in this distrusting, self-providing care ! 
Be not " cast down," O departing soul, nor by un- 
belief " disquieted within me. Trust thou in God," 
for soon shall experience teach thee to '* praise 
him," who is " the health of rny countenance, and 
my God." 

How clearly does reason command me to trust 
him, absolutely and implicitly to trust him, and to 
distrust myself? He is essential, infinite perfec- 
tion, wisdom, power, and love. There is nothing 
to be trusted in any creature but God working 
in it, or by it* I am altogether his own, by right, 
by devotion, and by consent. He is the giver 
of all good to every creature, as freely as the 
sun gives its light : and shall we not trust the sun 
to shine? lie is my Father, and has taken me 



Chap. V.J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 109 

into his family, and shall I not trust my heavenly 
Father? He has given me his Son, as the greatest 
pledge of his love, and " shall he not with him 
also freely give me all things'?" His Son pur- 
posely came to reveal his Father's unspeakable 
Jove, and shall I not trust him who has proclaimed 
his love by such a messenger from heaven? He 
has given me the Spirit of his Son, even the Spirit 
of adoption, the witness, pledge, and earnest of hea- 
ven, the seal of God upon me, " holiness to the 
Lord," and shall I not believe his love and trust 
him 1 He has made me a member of his Son, and 
will he not take care of me, and is not Christ to 
be trusted with his members? 1 am his interest, 
and the interest of his Son, freely beloved and 
dearly bought, and may I not trust him with his 
treasure? He has made me the care of angels, 
who rejoiced at my repentance, and shall they 
lose their joy or ministration? He is in covenant 
v/ith me, and has " given me many great and pre- 
cious promises," and can he be unfaithful? My 
Savior is the forerunner, who has entered into the 
holiest, and is there interceding for me, halving 
first conquered death to assure us of a future life, 
and ascended into heaven, to show us whither we 
must ascend, saying to his brethren, " I ascend to 
my Father and your Father, to ray God and your 
God ;" and shall I not follow him through death, 
and trust such a guide and captain of my salvation ? 
He is there to " prepare a place for me, and will 
receive me unto himself," and may I not confi' 

D 10 



110 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Cliap. V 

dently expect it ? He told a malefactor on the 
cross, " To-day shall thou be \vi\h me in paradise,'' 
l-o show believing sinners what they may expect. 
His apostles and other saints have served him on 
earth with all these expectations. " The spirits 
of just men made perfect" are now possessiug 
what I hope for, and I am a " follower of theiii 
who through faith and patience inherit the promis- 
ed" felicity; and may I not trust him to save me, 
who has already saved millions? I must be at the 
divine disposal, whether I will or not ; and how- 
ever I vex my soul with fears, and cares, and sor- 
rows, I shall never prevail against the will of God 
which is the only rest of souls. Our own wills 
have undone us, and are our disease, our prison, 
and our death, till they are brought over to the 
will of God; and shall J die, distrustfully striving 
against his will, and preferring my own before it? 
What abundant experience have I had of God's 
fidelity and love, and after all shall I not trust 
him ? His undeserved mercy gave me being, chose 
my parents, gave them affecti^onate desires for my 
real good, taught them to instruct me early in his 
word, and educate me in his fear ; made my habi- 
tation and companions suitable, endowed me with 
a teachable disposition, j)ut excellent books into 
my hands, and placed me under wise and faithful 
schoolmasters and ministers. His mercy fixed me 
in the best of lands, and in the best age that land 
had seen. His mercy early destroyed in me aU 
great expectations from the world, taught me to 



Chap. V.J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. Ill 

bear the yoke from my youth, caused me rather 
to groan under my infirmities, than struggle with 
powerful lusts, and chastened me betimes, but did 
not give me over unto death. Ever since I was 
at the age of nineteen, great mercy has trained 
me lip in the school of affliction, to keep my slug- 
gish soul awake in the constant expectation of my 
change, to kill my proud and worldly thoughts, 
and to direct all my studies to things the most ne- 
cessary. How has a life of constant but gentle 
chastisement urged me to " make my calling and 
election sure," and to prepare my accounts, as one 
that must quickly give them up to God! The face 
of death, and nearness of eternity, convinced me 
what books to read, what studies to prosecute, 
what companions to choose ; drove me early into 
the vineyard of the Lord, and taught me to preach 
as a dying man to dying men. It was divine love 
and mercy which made sacred truth so pleasant to 
me that ray life, under all my infirmities, has been 
almost a constant recreation. How far beyond 
my expectation has a merciful God encouraged 
me in his sacred work, choosing every place of 
my ministry and abode to this day, without my 
own seeking, and never sending me to labor in 
vain ! How many are gone to heaven, and how 
many are in the way, through a divine blessing 
on the word which in weakness I delivered ! Ma- 
ny good Christians are glad of now and then an 
hour to meditate on God's word, and refresh them- 
selves in his holy worship, but God has allowed 



112 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Cnap. V. 

and called me to make it the constant business 
of my life. In my library I have profitably and 
pleasantly dwelt among the shining lights, with 
H'hicli the learned, v/ise, and holy men of all ages 
have illuminated the world. How many comfor- 
table hours have I had in the society of #iving 
saints, and in the love of faithful friends! How 
many joyful days in solemn worshiping assemblies 
where the Spirit of Christ has been manifestly 
present, both with ministers and people ! How 
unworthy was such a sinful worm as I, who never 
had any academical helps, nor much from the 
mouth of any teacher, that books should become 
so great a blessing to me, and that God should 
induce or constrain me, quite beyond my own 
intentions, to provide any such like helps for 
others ! How unworthy that God should use me 
above forty years in so comfortable a work as 
pleading and writing for love, peace, and concord^ 
and with so much success ! What mercy had I, 
amidst the calamities of a civil war, to live two 
vears in safety at Coventry, a city of defence, and 
in the heart of the kingdom ! When I afterv/ard 
saw the effects of human folly, and fury, and of 
God's displeasure, in the ruin of towns and coun- 
tries, and in the fields covered with carcasses of 
ihe slain, how mercifully was I preserved and 
brought home in peace! And O how great 
was the mercy showed me in a peacable, humble, 
unanimous people, so numerous, so exemplary, 
and who to this day maintain their integrity and 



Chap, v.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 113 

concord, when, for thirty-one years, I have been 
forced to remain at a distance from them ! What 
a mercy, when I might not speak by voice to any 
single congregation, to be enabled to speak by 
writings to many, and to have the plainest writings 
attended with success, and some of them sent to 
preach in foreign lands and languages ! Though 
I have been sent to the common jail for my ser- 
vice and obedience to God, yet he has there kept 
me in peace, and soon delivered me : and how of- 
ten has he succored me when nature and art have 
failed ! How he has cured my consumptive coughs, 
stopped my flowing blood, eased my pained 
jimbs, and upheld an emaciated skeleton ! I have 
had fifty years added to my days, though I ex- 
pected not to live one of them : and what strange 
deliverances have been wrought for me, upon the 
importunate requests of many hundreds of my 
praying friends ! How have I been kept in ordi- 
nary health and safety, when the raging pestilence 
came near my habitation and consumed an hun- 
dred thousand citizens ! And how was my dwell- 
ing preserved, when I saw London, the glory of 
the land, in flames ! — These, and many more, arc 
my experiences of that wonderful mercy which 
has measured my pilgrimage, and filled up my 
days. Never did God break his promise with 
me. Never did he fail me, or forsake me. And 
shall I now distrust him at last? 

" To thee, O Lord, as to ' a faithful Creator,' I 
commit my soul. I know that thou art ' the faith« 
D 10* 



114 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Cbap. V 

ful God, which keepetli covenant and mercy with 
them that love thee and keep thy commandments. 
Thou art faithful, who hast called me to the fel- 
lowship of thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord.' Thy 
faithfulness has saved me from temptation, and 
kept me from prevailing evil, and will ' preserve 
my whole spirit, and soul, and body, unto the com- 
ing of Christ.' It is in faithfulness thou hast af- 
flicted me, and shall I not trust thee to save me ? * It 
is thy faithful saying, that thy elect shall obtain 
the salvation which is in Christ Jesus, with eter- 
nal glory ; for if we be dead with him, we shall 
also live with him; if we suffer, we shall also 
reign with him.' — To thee, O my Savior, I commit 
my soul; it is thine by redemption, thine by co- 
venant; it is sealed by thy Spirit, and thou hast 
])romised not to lose it. Thou wast ' made like 
imto thy brethren, that thou mightest be a mer- 
riful and faithful high priest in things pertaining 
to God, to make reconciliation for our sins.' By 
thy blood we have boldness to enter into the ho- 
liest, by a new and living v/ay consecrated for us. 
Oause me to ' draw near with a true heart, in full 
c ssurance of faith.' Thy name is faithful and true. 
True and faithful are all thy promises. Thou 
Iiast promised rest to weary souls that come to 
tliee. I am weary of suffering, sin, and flesh: 
weavy of my darkness, dullness, and distance. 
Whither should I look for rest, but home to my 
(icavenly Father and thee? I am but a bruised 
•reed, but thou wilt not break Kie. I am but srnok- 



Cliap. v.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 115 

ing flax, but thou wilt not quench what thy grace 
hath kindled. Thou, in whose name the nations 
trust, * wilt bring forth judgment unto victory.' 
The Lord redeemeth the souls of his servants, 
and none of them that trust in him shall be deso- 
late. I will wait on thy name, for it is good ; I 
trust in the mercy of God for ever and ever. Tlie 
Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble, 
and he knoweth them that trust in him. Sinful 
fear brings a snare, but whoso putteth his trust in 
the Lord, shall be safe. * Blessed is the man that 
maketh the Lord his trust. Thou art my hope, 
O Lord God, thou art my trust from my youth. 
By thee have Lbeen holden up from the womb ; 
my praise shall be continually of thee. Cast me 
not off in the time of old age, forsake me not when 
my strength faileth. O God ! thou hast taught me 
from my youth, and hitherto have I declared thy 
wondrous works. Now also, when I am old and 
gray-headed, O God, forsake me not. Mine eyes 
are unto thee, O God the Lord ! in thee is my 
trust, leave not my soul destitute. I had fainted 
unless I had believed to see the goodness of the 
Lord in the land of the living,' even where they 
that live shall die no more." The sun may cease 
to shine on man, and the earth to bear us ; but 
God will never cease to be faithful to his promises. 
Blessed be the Lord, who has commanded me so 
gafe and quieting a duty as to trust in him, and 
cast all my cares upon him who has promised to 
care for me ! 



116 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V'. 

2. Hope also for the salvation of God. Hope 
is the ease, yea, the life of our hearts, which wouhl 
otherwise break, and even die within us. Des- 
pair is no small part of hell. God cherishes hope, 
as he is the lover of souls. Satan, our enemy, 
cherishes despair, when his more usual way of 
presumption fails. Hope anticipates salvation, as 
fear does evil. It is the hypocrite's hope that pe- 
rishes ; and all who hope for durable happiness on 
earth must be deceived. But " happy is he that 
hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope 
is in the Lord his God, which made heaven and 
eirth, which keepeth truth for ever.'' Wo to 
me " if in this life only I had hope. But the right- 
eous hath hope in his death And hope maketh 
not ashamed. Blessed is the man that trasteth in 
the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is." " Lay 
hold, then, O my soul, * upon the hope set before 
thee ;' it is thy sure and steadfast anchor, without 
which thou wilt be as a shipwrecked vessel. Thy 
foundation is sure, even God himself. Our faitli 
and hope are both in God. Christ dwells in our 
hearts by faith, is in us the hope of glory. By this 
hope, better than the law of Moses could bring, 
we draw nigh unto God. We hope for that we 
see not, and with patience wait for it. We are 
saved by hope. It is an encouraging grace, it ex- 
cites our diligence and helps to full assurance 
unto the end. It is a desiring grace, and is an 
earnest to obtain the glory hoped for. It is a 
comforting grace, for ' the God of hope fills iii 



Chap, v.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 117 

with all joy and peace in believing, that we may 
abound in hope through the power of the Holy 
Ghost.' Shake off despondency, O my soul, and 
* rejoice in hope of the glory of God.' Believe in 
hope, though dying flesh would tell thee that it 
is against hope." 

What blessed preparations are made for our 
hope! "God has confirmed it by two immutable 
things," his promise and his oath. " His abun- 
dant mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively 
hope, by the resurrection of Christ, to an inheri- 
tance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth 
not away, reserved in heaven for us." Grace 
teacheth us, that " denying ungodliness and world- 
ly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and 
godly in this present world ; looking for that bless- 
ed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great 
God and our Savior." We are " renewed by the 
Holy Ghost, and justified by grace, that we should 
be made heirs according to the hope of eternal 
life. The eyes of our understanding are enlight- 
ened, that we may know what is the hope of his 
calling, and what the riches of the glory of this in- 
heritance in the saints. The hope which is laid 
up for us in heaven, hath, through the Gospel, 
brought life and immortality, to light. Having 
liope toward God, we exercise ourselves to have 
always a conscience void of offence, and serve 
God day and night. For an helmet, we put on 
the hope of salvation. Death is not to us as to 
(llhers which have no hope. Our Lord Jesus Christ 



118 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V. 

and God, even our Father, hath loved us, and hath 
given us everlasting consolation and good hope 
through grace, to comfort our hearts and estab- 
lish us in every good word and work. We must 
hold fast the rejoicing of the hope firm unto the 
end, and continue in the faith grounded and set- 
tled, and not be moved away from the hope of the 
Gospel." " And now. Lord, what wait I for? my 
hope is in thee. Uphold me according to thy 
word, that I may live, and let me not be ashamed 
of my hope. Though our iniquities testify against 
us, yet, O Lord, the Hope of Israel, the Savior 
thereof in time of trouble, be not as a stranger, 
leave us not. We have been showed the praises 
of the Lord and his wonderful works, that we 
might set our hope in God. Remember the word 
unto thy servant, upon which thou hast caused me 
to hope. If thou. Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, 
O Lord, who shall stand ? But there is forgive- 
ness with thee, that thou mayest be feared. I 
wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his 
word do I hope. Let Israel hope in the Lord, 
for with the Lord there is mercy, and with him 
is plenteous redemption. The Lord taketh plea- 
sure in them that fear him, in those that hope in 
his mercy. Though my flesh and heart faileth, 
God is the strength of my heart. The Lord is my 
portion, saith my soul, therefore will I hope in 
him. The Lord is good unto them that wait for 
him, to the soul that seeketh him. It is good that 
a man should bolli hope and quietly wait for the 



Chap, v.] AND TO BE WITH CHRI3T. 119 

salvation of the Lord. It is good for a man that 
he bear the yoke in his youth, and that he keep- 
eth silence, and putteth his mouth in the dust, if 
60 be there may be hope." 

God needs not flatter such worms as we are, 
nor promise us what he never means to perform. 
He has laid the rudiments of our hope in a nature 
capable of desiring, seeking and thinking of an- 
other life. He has called me, by grace, to actual 
desires and endeavors, and has vouchsafed some 
fore-tastes. I look for no heaven but the perfec- 
tion of divine life, light, and love in endless glory 
with Christ and his saints, and this he has already 
begun in me. And shall I not boldly hope, when 
I have capacity, the promise, and the earnest and 
foretaste 1 Is it not God himself that caused me 
to hope ? Was not nature, promise, and grace 
from him? And can a soul miscarry and be de» 
ceived that departs hence in a hope of God's own 
producing and encouraging? *' Lord, I have liv- 
ed in hope, I have prayed, labored, suflered, and 
waited in hope, and by thy grace I will die in 
hope ; and is not this according to thy word and 
will ? And wilt thou cast away a soul that hopes 
in thee by thine own command and operation ?" 
Had wealth, and honor, and continuance on earth, 
or the favor of man, been my reward and hope 
my hope and I had died together. Were this our 
best, how vain were man ! but the Lord liveth, 
and my Redeemer is glorified, and intercedes for 
me : and the same Spirit is in heaven who is in 



120 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V 

my heart, as the same sun is in the firmament and 
in my house. The promise is siire to all Christ's 
seed ; for millions are now in heaven who once 
lived and died in hope ; they were sinners once, as 
I now am ; they had no other Savior, sanctifier, 
or promise than I now have. " Confessing that 
they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth, 
they desired a better country, that is, a heavenly," 
where they now are. And shall I not follow them 
in hope, who have sped so well ? " Then, O my 
soul, hope unto the end. Hope in the Lord, from 
henceforth and for ever. I will hope continually, 
and will yet praise him more and more. My 
mouth shall show forth his righteousness and sal- 
vation. The Lord is at my right hand, I shall not 
be moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my 
glory rejoiceth, my flesh also shall rest in hope. 
God hath showed me the path of life ; in his pre- 
sence is fullness of joy, at his right hand there are 
pleasures for evermore." 

3. What then remains, but that in faith and hope 
I love my God, my Savior, my Comforter, the glo- 
rious society, and my own perfection in glory, 
better than this burden of flesh, and this howling 
wilderness"? How odious is that darkness and un- 
belief, that unholiness and disaffection, that dead- 
ness and stupidity, which makes such love seem 
hard and unsuitable ! Is it unsuitable or hard for 
the eye to see the light or the beauties of crea- 
tion, or for a man to love his life or health, his fa- 
ther or his friend ? What should be easier to a 



Chap, v.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 121 

nature that has rational love, than to love him 
who is love itself? He that loveth all, and gives 
to all a capacity to love, should be loved by all ; 
and he that hath especially loved me, should es- 
pecially be loved by me. 

Love desires to please God, and therefore to be 
in the most pleasing state, and freed from all that 
is displeasing to him ; which is not to be hoped for 
on earth. It desires all suitable nearness, acquain- 
tance, union, and communion. It is weary of dis- 
tance and alienation. It takes advantage of every 
notice of God to renew and exercise these desires. 
Every message and mercy from God is fuel for 
love, and, while we are short of perfection, stirs 
up our desires after more of God. The soul is 
where it loves. If our friends dwell in our hearts 
by love ; and if fleshly pleasures, riches, and hon- 
or dwell in the hearts of the voluptuous, covetous, 
and proud ; surely God and Christ, heaven and ho- 
liness, dwell in the heart which loves them fervent- 
ly. And if heaven dwell in my heart, shall I not 
desire to dwell in heaven ? Would divine love 
more plentifully pour itself upon my heart, how 
easy would it be to leave this flesh and world I 
Death and the grave would be but a triumph for 
victorious love. It would be easier to die in peace 
and joy, than to go to rest at night after a fa- 
tiguing day, or eat when I am hungry. A Httle 
love has made me willingly study, preach, write, 
and even suffer ; and would not more love make 
me vvillingly go to Godi Shall the imagination 

11 D 



122 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V. 

of house, gardens, walks, libraries, prospects, &c. 
allure the desires of deceived minds, and shall not 
the thoughts of heavenly n:iansions, converse and 
Joys, more powerfully draw up my desires? Can 
I love such a world as this, where tyranny sheds 
streams of blood and lays cities and countries de- 
solate ; where the wicked are exalted, the just and 
innocent reproached and oppressed, the Gospe) 
restrained, and idolatry and infidelity prevail 1 And 
shall I not think more delightfully of " the inherit- 
ance of the saints in light," and of the cordial love 
and joyful praises of the church triumphant? 
Should I not love a lovely and loving world much 
better than a world where tliere is comparatively 
so little loveliness or love? All that is of God is 
good and lovely. But here his glory shines not 
in felicitating splendor. I am taught to look up- 
ward when I pray, " Our Father, which art in hea- 
ven." God's works are amiable even in he'l ; and 
yet though I would know them. I would not be 
there. And, alas ! hov>^ much of the works of man 
are here mixed with the works of God! Here is 
God's wisdom, but man's foil}- ; God's governm.ent, 
but man's tyranny ; God's love and mercy, but man's 
wrath and cruelty ; much of God's beautiful order 
and harmony, but much of man's deformity and 
confusion. Here is much truth and justice, but 
how it is mixed ! Here are wise, judicious teach- 
ers and companions, but comparatively how few! 
Here are v/orthy and religious families ; but by 
the tempta'/ions of weaUhj and worldly interest. 



Chfip. V.J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 123 

how full even of the sins" of Sodom, "pride, full- 
ness of bread, and abundance of idleness," if not 
also of unmercifulness to the poor ! And how 
few pious families of the great that do not quick- 
ly degenerate from their progenitors by error or 
sensuality ! Here are some that educate their 
children wisely in the fear of God, and according- 
ly have comfort in them ; but how many are there 
tliat train them up to the service of the world, the 
flesh, and the devil ! 

How many send their children to get sciences, 
trades, or to travel in foreign lands, before ever 
they were instructed, at home, against those temp- 
tations which they must encounter, and by which 
they are so often undone ! How commonly, when 
they have first neglected this great duty to their 
children, do they plead a necessity of thrusting 
them out, from some punctilio of honor, or con- 
formity to the world, or to adorn them with some 
of the plumes of fashionable modes and ceremonies, 
which will never compensate the loss of heavenly 
wisdom, mortification, and the love of God and 
man! As if they might send them to sea, for 
some trifling reason, without pilot or anchor, and 
think that God must save them from the waves ! 
And when such children have forsaken God, and 
given themselves up to sensuality and profaneness, 
these parents wonder at the judgments of God, and 
with broken hearts lament their own infelicity, in- 
stead of lamenting their own misconduct. Thus 
families, churches, and kinffdoms run on to blind- 



124 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V. 

aess, ungodliness, and confusion. Folly, sin, and 
.Tiisery, mistaking themselves for wit, honor, and 
prosperity, are the ordinary pursuits of mortals. 
Such a bedlam is most of the world become, that 
he is the bravest man who can sin and be damned 
with reputation and renown, and succesfully draw 
the greatest number with him to hell. This is thr 
world which stands in competition for my love 
with the spiritual blessed world. 

In this world I have had many of God's mercies 
and comforts ; but their sweetness was their taste 
of divine love and their tendency to heavenly 
perfection. What was the end and use of all the 
good that ever I saw or that God ever did for my 
soul or body, but to teach me to love him, and to 
desire to love him more ? Wherever I go, and 
whichever way I look, I see vanity and vexation 
written upon all things in this world, so far as they 
stand in competition with God : and I see holiness 
to the Lord written upon every thing, so far as it 
leads me to him as my ultimate end. The emp- 
tiness, danger, and bitterness of the world, and the 
all-sufficiency, faithfulness, and goodness of God, 
have been the sum of all the experiences of all my 
life. And shall a worldly, backward heait over- 
come the teachings of nature. Scripture, the Spirit 
of grace, and all experience ? " O my God, love 
is thy great and special gift. All good is from 
ihee. Come into this heart, for it cannot come up 
to thee ! Can the plants go up to the sun for life, 
or the eye for light? Dwell in me by the Spirit 



Chap. V.J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 125 

of love, and I shall dwell by love in thee. I ea- 
sily feel that through thy grace I love thy word; 
thy image, thy work: ; and O how heartily do I 
love to love thee, and how long to know and love 
thee more ! And if * all things be of thee, and 
through thee, and to thee,' surely this love is emi- 
nently so. It means thee. Lord. It looks to thee ; 
it serves thee : for thee it moves, and seeks, and 
sighs : in thee it trusts ; and the hope, and peace, 
and comfort which support me are in thee. When 
I was a returning prodigal in rags, thou sawestme 
afar off, and didst meet me with the caresses of 
thy love ; and shall I doubt whether he that has 
better clothed me, and has dwelt within me, will 
entertain me in the world of love ?" 

The suitableness of things below to my fleshly 
nature has detained my affections too much on 
earth ; and shall not the suitableness of things 
above to my spiritual nature much more draw up 
my love to heaven ? There is the God whom I 
have sought and served. He is also here, but veil- 
ed, and little known. There he shines to heaven- 
ly spirits in heavenly glory. There is the Savior 
in whom I have believed. He also dwelt on 
earth, but clothed in such meanness, and humbled 
to such a life and death, as was to the Jews a stum- 
bling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness. Now 
he shines and reigns in glory, above the malice 
and contempt of sinners. And I shall live there 
because he lives ; and in his light I shall see light, 
I had here some rays of heavenly light, but uu- 
11* 

D 



126 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V 

der what eclipses, and even long and winter nights. 
There I shall dwell in the city of God, the hea- 
venly Jerusalem, where there is no night nor 
eclipse. There are heavenly hosts, in whose ho- 
ly love and joyful praises I would fain partake. 
[ have here, though unseen, had some of their 
loving assistance : but there I shall be with them 
of the same nature, and the same triumphant 
church. There are perfected souls ; not striving, 
like the disciples, who should be the greatest ; 
not like Noah in the old world, or Lot in So- 
dom, or Abraham among idolaters ; nor like those 
that *' wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, 
being destitute, afflicted, tormented, hid in dens 
and caves of the earth ;" nor like Job on the dung- 
hill, or Lazarus at the rich man's gate ; nor as 
we poor bewildered sinners, feeling evil and 
fearing more. Should I fear a darksome passage 
into a world of perfect light 1 Should I fear to go 
to love itself? O excellent grace of faith which 
fore-sees, and blessed word of failh which fore- 
shows this world of love ! 

" And canst thou doubt, my soul, whether 
thou art going to a God that lovcth thee ? If the 
Jews discerned the g^reat love of Christ to Laza- 
rus by his tears, canst not thou discern his love to 
thee in his blood ? It is not the less precious, be- 
cause shed, not for ihee alone, but for many. May 
I not say, I live by the faith of the Son of God, 
who loved me, and gave himself for me? Yea, it 
is not 80 much I that live, but Christ liveth in 



Chap. V.J AND TO BE WITH CHRiaT. 127 

me. And will he forsake the habitation which his 
love has chosen, and which he has so dearly 
bought? What shall separate us from the love of 
God 1 If life has not, death shall not do it. O my 
soul, if leaning on Christ's breast at meat was a to- 
ken of his peculiar love to John, is not his dwelling 
in thee by faith, and his living in thee by his Spirit, 
a sure token of his love to thee ? Did his darkly 
saying, ' If I will that he tarry till I come, what 
is that to thee,' raise a report that the beloved 
disciple should not die ? why should not plain 
promises assure thee that thou shalt live for ever 
with him that loveth thee ? Be not so unthankful, 
O my soul, as to doubt whether thy heavenly Fa- 
ther and thy Lord love thee. Canst thou forget 
the sealed testimonies of it? Did I not lately re- 
peat so many as ought to shame thy doubt? A 
multitude of thy friends have so entirely loved 
thee, that thou canst not doubt of it ; and did any 
of them testify their love with the convincing evi- 
dence that God has done? x\ro they love itself ? 
Is ihcir love so full, so firm and unchangeable as 
his ?" I think licavcn the sweeter, because many 
of my old, lovely, aftectionate, holy friends are 
there, and I am the more willing by death to fol- 
low them. And should il not be more pleasing to 
think that my God and Father, my Savior and 
Comforter are there? Was not Lazarus in the 
bosom of God ? And yet he is said to be in Abra- 
ham's bosom ; that is, not there alone, but as we 
are all to sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob 



128 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V 

in the kingdom of God. I am often ready to enter- 
tain myself with naming such of my friends as 
are now with Christ ; but in heaven they will love 
me better than they did on earth, and my love to 
them will be more pleasant. But all these sparks 
are little to the sun. 

Every place I have lived in has its monu- 
ments of divine love. Every year and hour of my 
life has been a time of love. Every friend, neigh- 
^jor, and even enemy, have been the messengers 
and instruments of love. Every state and change 
of my life, notwithstanding my sin, have opened 
to me the treasures and mysteries of love. And 
shall I doubt whether the same God loves me ? Is 
he the God of the hills, and not of the valleys ? 
Did he love me in my youth and heiilth, and will 
he not also in my age, and pain, and sickness ? 
Did he love all the saints better in their life than 
at their death ? My groans grieve my friends, but 
abate not their love. God loved me when I was 
his enem.y, to make me a friend. God will finish 
his own work. O the multitude of mercies to 
my soul and body, in peace and war, in youth and 
age, to myself and friends ! Have I lived in the 
experience of the love of God to me, and shall I 
die doubting of it? I am not much in doubt of the 
truth of my love to him. I love his word, works 
and ways, and would fain be nearer to him, and 
love liim more, and lothe myself for loving him 
r.o better. Peter may more confidently say, "Thou 
knovvest that J love thee,'* tb.an I know that thou 



Ckap. v.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 129 

lovest me; because our knowledge of God's great 
love is less than his knowledge of our little love ; 
and without the knowledge of our love to God, we 
can never be sure of his special love to us. I am 
not entirely a stranger to myself. I know for 
what I have lived and labored, and whom I have 
desired to please. The " God, whose I am and 
whom I serve," hath loved me in my youth, and 
will love me in my aged weakness. My pains seem 
grievous ! but love chooses them, uses them for 
my good, moderates them, and will shortly end 
them. Why then should I doubt of my Father's 
Icve ? Shall pain or dying make me doubt? Did 
God never love any but Enoch and Elijah ? And 
what am I better than my fathers? O for a 
clearer, stronger faith. Methinks Daniel's title, 
*' a man greatly beloved," should be enough to 
make one joyfully love and trust God, both in life 
and death. And have not all the saints that title 
in their degrees? What else signifies their mark, 
*' holiness to the Lord?" It is but our separation 
to God as his peculiar, beloved people. And how 
are we separated but by mutual love? He that is 
no otherwise beloved than hypocrites and unbe- 
lievers, must have his portion with them ; and the 
ungodly, unholy, and unregenerate shall not stand 
in judgment, nor see God, nor enter into his king- 
dom. Upright souls are to blame for their ground- 
less doubts of God's love, not for their acknow- 
ledging it, rejoicing in it. or for being solicitous to 
make it sure. Love brought me into the world 



];;0 WILLINGNESS TO DKl'ART, [Chap. V 

and furnished me with a thousand mercies, and has 
provided forme, delivered and preserved me till 
now; and will it not entertain my separate soul? 
Is God like false or insufficient friends, that for- 
sake us in adversity ? 

I confess I have by sin wronged Love ; but all, 
except Christ, were sinners, whom Love has puri- 
fied and received to glory. " God, who is rich in 
mercy, for his great Love wherewith he loved us-, 
even Avhcn we Avere dead in sins, hath quickened 
us together with Christ, (by grace we are saved,) 
and hath raised us up together in heavenly places 
in Christ Jesus." O that I could love much, that 
have so much forgiven ! The glorified praise 
*' him that loved us, and washed us from our sins 
in his own blood, and hath made us kings and 
priests unto God. Our Father, which hath loved 
us. Lath given us everlasting consolation and good 
hope through grace." I know no sin which I re- 
pent not of with self-lothing, and I earnestly beg 
and labor that none of my sins may be unknov/n 
to me. O that God would bless my accusations, 
that I mny not be unknown to myself, though 
some think me much better than I am ! " Who 
can understand his errors?" Lord, "cleanse thou 
me from secret faults ; keep back thy servant also 
from presumptuous sins ! I have an Advocate 
with thee," and thy promise, that " if we confess 
our sins," thou wilt " forgive them." Wherever 
I have erred, Lord, make it known to me, that 
my confession may prevent the sin of others : 



Chap. V.J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 131 

and where I have not erred, confirm and accept 
me in the right. And since an unworthy worm 
has had so many testimonies of thy love, let me 
not, when thou sayest " I have loved thee," un- 
thankfully ask, "Wherein hast thou loved me ?" 
Heaven is not more spangled with stars than thy 
word and works with the refulgent signatures of 
love. Thy well-beloved Son, the Son of thy love, 
undertaketh the message and work of the greatest 
love, was full of the spirit of love ; which he shed 
abroad in the hearts of thine elect, that the love 
ajf the Father, the grace of the Son, and the com- 
munion of the Spirit may be their hope and life. 
By his works, sullerings, and gifts, as well as by 
his comfortable word, he said to his disciples, " As 
the Father loved me, so have I loved you, conti- 
nue ye in my love." Lord, how shall we con- 
tinue in it, but by the thankful belief of thy love 
and loveliness, desiring still to love thee more, and 
in all things to know and do thy will, which thou 
knowest is my soul's desire. 

" Draw nearer, O my soul, to the Lord of love, 
and be not seldom and slight in thy contemplation 
of his love and loveliness. Dwell in the sunshine, 
and thou wilt know that it is light, and warm, and 
comfortable. Distance and strangeness cherish 
thy doubts. " Acquaint thyself with him, and be 
at peace." Look up, often and earnestly look up 
after thy ascended glorified Head. Think where, 
and what he is, and what he is now doing for all 
his own and once abased ; suffering Love \z now 



J 32 WfLLIACiNESS TO DEF^VRT, <fec. [Chap. V. 

triumphant, reigning, glorified Love ; and therefore 
not less now tlian in ail its tender expressions on 
earth." Had I done this more and better, and ys 
I have persuaded others to do it, I had lived in 
more convincing delights of God's love, which 
would have turned the fears of death into more 
joyful hopes, and more earnest *' desires to be 
with Christ," in the arms, in the world, in the 
life of love, as far better than to be here in a world 
of darkness, doubts, and fears. " But, O my 
Father, thou infinite Love, though my arguments 
be many and strong, my heart is bad, my strengt?i 
is weakness, and I am insufficient to plead the 
cause of thy love and loveliness to myself or 
others. O plead thy own cause, and what heart 
can resist ? Let it not be my word only, but thine, 
that thou lovest me, even me a sinner ! Say as 
Christ to Lazarus, " Arise V* Tell me as thou dost, 
that the sun is warm, yea, as thou didst, that mv 
parents and dearest friends loved me ! Tell me, 
as by the conciousness and works of life thou 
tellest me, that thou hast given mc life ; that while 
I can say, Thou that knowest all things, knowest j 
that I love thee, I may infer. Therefore I know 
1 am beloved of thee ! Thus let me come to thee 
in the confidence of thy love, and long to be 
nearer, in the clearer sight, the fuller sense, and 
more joyful exercise of love for ever ! Father, 
into thy hand I commend my spirit! Lord Jesus, 
receive my spirit.'* Amen. 

THE END. 



THE LIFE 



OP 



REV. RICHARD BAXTER 



CHIEFL7 COMPILED FROM HIB OWN \n«TINOS. 



PUBLISHED BY THE 



AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 N'ASSAU-STREET, NEW-YORK. 



T). Fanshmv, Priiitcr. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter I. — His early life and conversion. — His fa- 
ther — early vices — the Bible and religious books 
blessed in his conversion — his early studies — fee- 
ble health — spiritual conflicts — sources of comfort 
— death of his mother — desire to be useful. ... 7 

Chapter II. — His ordination and first public engage- 
ments. — Preaches at Dudley — removes to Bridg- 
north— and then to Kidderminster 21 

Chapter III. — His labors, trials, and success at Kid- 
derminster. — Benefit of previous trials — branded 
as a traitor — hardly escapes with life — leaves Kid- 
derminster and preaches to soldiers at Coventry — 
becomes chaplain of a regiment under Cromwell — 
failure of his health — writes the Saints' Rest — re- 
turns to Kidderminster, and remains fourteen 
years — character of his labors — acts as a physi- 
cian — success of his ministry — various means of 
usefulness employed — his "Reformed Pastor" — 
is consulted by Cromwell — writes his " Call to the 
Unconverted," and other works 25 

Chapter IV. — His engagements after leaving Kidder- 
AnNSTER. — Visits London — preaches to parliament 
— interview witlx the king — attempts to reconcile 



4 CONTENTS. 

the conflicting parties— declines a bishopric— for- 
bidden to return to Kidderminster — his interest in 
missions to the Indians — writes to Eliot — great con- 
cern for the conversion of the world — further un- 
successful attempts at reconciliation — is accused of 
sedition — preaches in London — not allowed to ad- 
dress his people at Kidderminster — is ejected, with 
2,000 others, by the "Act of Uniformity " — his mar- 
riage — the plague and fire in London — preaches in 
his own house — acquaintance with Judge Hale. . 60 

Chapter V. — His persecution, trials, and death. — Is 
apprehended and cast into prison, where he is kept 
in great peace — is offered preferment by the king 
of Scotland — reasons for declining it — is licensed 
to preach again, under restrictions — preaches in 
London — writes the " Poor Man's Family Book," 
and other works — great success in preaching — in- 
terrupted by persecutions— death of Mrs. Baxter — 
feeble health and further persecutions — commences 
a " Paraphrase of the New Testament"— is char- 
ged with sedition for writing it — mock trial before 
Lord Chief Justice Jeffries — is two years impri- 
soned — Matthew Henry's description of his pa- 
tience — he is released from prison — preaches in 
his own house — last sickness — death 82 

Chapter VI. — His person, views or himself, and ge- 
neral character. — His person — his survey of his 
own character, showing the changes from his ear- 
lier to his riper years — character of his prayers — 
of his sermons — his works — his bodily sufferings — 
iove to souls — walk with God 123 



NOTE. 

The life of this eminent servant of God, abound- 
ing with striking incidents, and adapted to be use- 
ful to all, is published nearly in the present form 
by the Religious Tract Society in London. Some 
corrections of obscure phraseology and antique style 
are here made, without altering the character of the 
narrative. The reader will be struck with his extra- 
ordinary reliance on the efficacy of prayer ; his abun- 
dant labors as a pastor ; the rudeness, ignorance, and 
persecuting spirit of the age in which he lived ; his 
burning zeal for the spread of the Gospel at that 
early period of modern missions ; the great variety of 
works he was enabled to write, though in a very low 
state of health ; and the wonderful extent to which 
the powers of the mind may be kept up by the ha- 
bitual exercise of them, even amid the multiplied 
infirmities of old age. 

A more full account of the man, comprising a 
description of his voluminous writings, may be found 
by the student in " Baxter's Life and Times, by Rev. 
William Orme-" 2 vols, octavo. 



I.IFE OF 



REV. RICHARD BAXTER. 



CHAPTER I. 

HIS EARLY LIFE AND CONVERSION. 

Richard Baxter was born at Rowton, Sliropshire, 
(England,) on the 12th of November, 1615. He resided 
in that village with his maternal grandfather till he 
was nearly ten years of age, when he was taken home 
to live with his parents at Eaton Constantine, in the 
same county. His father, he says, " had the competent 
estate of a freeholder, free from the temptations of po- 
verty and riches; but having been addicted to gaming 
in his youth, as was also his father before him, it was 
so entangled by debts, that it occasioned some excess 
of worldly cares before it was freed." 

The father of Richard Baxter, about the lime cf his 
son's birth, became seriously impressed with the im- 
portance of divine truth, and appears to have subse- 
quently become a sincere follower of tiie Redeemer. 
His conversion was effected chiefly through the instru- 
mentality of reading the Scriptures. He had but few 
opportunities of attending on other means of grace. 
Many of the pulpits were occupied by ministers igno- 



8 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

rant of the truth as it is in Jesus ; and those who preach- 
ed the Gospel in its purity were, for the most part, so 
despised and contemned, that it required no small share 
of moral courage to attend on their ministry. Convert- 
ed himself, he became anxious for the salvation of his 
only son. He directed the attention of his youthful 
charge to the sacred Scriptures, whence he had himself 
derived so much benefit. Nor were his instructions 
and efforts altogether vain. Baxter thus ingenuously 
confesses his early sins and convictions, in his history 
of his own life and times : 

" At first my father set me to read the historical parts 
of Scripture, which, suiting with my nature, greatly 
delighted me; and though all that time I neither un- 
derstood nor relished much the doctrinal part and mys- 
tery of redemption, yet it did me good, by acquainting 
me with the matters of fact, and drawing me on to love 
the Bible, and to search by degrees into the rest. 

" But though my conscience would trouble me when 
I sinned, yet divera sins I was addicted to, and often 
committed against r^iy conscience; which, for the warn- 
ing of others, I will here confess, to my shame. 

" 1. I was much addicted, when I feared correction, 
to lie, that I might escape. 

" 2. I was much addicted to the excessive gluttonous 
eating of apples and pears, which, I think, laid the foun- 
dation of that weakness of my stomach which caused 
the bodily calamities of my life. 

" 3. To this end, and to concur with naughty boys 
that gloried in evil, I have often gone into other men's 
orchards, and stolen their fruit, when I had enough at 
home. 

" 4. I was somewhat excessively addicted to play, 
and that with covetousness for money. 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 9 

" 5. I was extremely bewitched with a love of ro- 
mances, fables, and old tales, which corrupted my affec- 
tions and wasted my time. 

" 6. I was guilty of much idle foolish chat, and imi- 
tation of boys in scurrilous foolish words and actions, 
though I durst not swear. 

" 7. I was too proud of the commendations of my 
instructors, who all of them fed my pride, making me 
seven or eight years the highest in the school, and 
boasting of me to others; which, though it furthered 
my learning, yet helped not my humility. 

" 8. I was too bold and irreverent towards my pa- 
rents. 

" These were my sins, with which, in my childhood, 
conscience troubled me for a great while before they 
were overcome." 

His convictions gathered strength, although occa- 
sionally resisted. The temptations to neglect religion 
were strong and powerful. The reproach cast on his 
father and others, who, for their desire and pursuit of 
holiness, were contemptuously designated "Puritans," 
proved for a season a stumbling-block in his path. Still, 
however, the reflecting mind of the son led him to dis- 
cern the difference between the conduct of his father 
and that of his calumniators, and to conclude that there 
was more of reason and truth in a life of holiness, than 
in a life of impiety and rebellion against the majesty 
of heaven. He says : 

" In the village where I lived, the Reader read the 
common prayer briefly; and the rest of the day, even 
till dark night almost, except eating time, was spent 
in dancing under a may-pole and a great tree, not far 
from my father's door, where all the town met toge- 
ther: and though one of my father's own tenants was 



10 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

the piper, he could not restrain him not break the 
sport; so that we could not rf^ad the iScripture in our 
family without the great disturbance of the taber and 
pipe, and noise in the street !* Many limes my mind 
was inclined to be among them, and sometimes I broke 
loose from my conscience and joined with them ; and 
the more I did it, the more I was inclined lo it. But 
when I heard them call my father ' Puritan,' it did 
much to cure me and alienate me from them ; for I 
considered that my father's exercise of reading the 
Scripture was better than theirs, and would surely be 
judged better by all men at the last; and I considered 
what it was, for which he and others were thus derided. 
When I heard them speak scornfully of others, as Pu- 
ritans, whom I never knew, I was at first apt to believe 
all the lies and slanders wherewith tliey loaded them ; 
but when I heard my own father so reproached, and 
perceived that drunkards were the most forward in the 
reproach, I perceived that it was mere malice. For my 
father never objected to common prayer or ceremonies, 
nor spoke against bishops, nor ever so much as prayed 
but by a book or form, being unacquainted then with 
any that did otherwise. But only for reading Scripture 
when the rest were dancing on the Lord's day, and for 
praying by a form out of the end of the common 
prayer book, in his house, and for reproving drunkards 
and swearers, and for talking sometimes a few words 
of Scripture, and about the life to come, he was reviled 
commonly by the name of Puritan, Precisian, and Hy- 
pocrite; and so were the godly ministers that lived in 
the country near us, not only by our neighbors, but by 

* These profanations of ibe Lord's day were authorised and 
encouraged by the royal proclamation, called the Book of 
Sports, set forth A. D. 1618.— See Life of Bishop Hall, p. 36. 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 11 

the common talk of the multitude all about us. By this 
observation I was fully convinced that godly people 
■were the best; and those that despised them, and lived 
in sin and pleasure, were a malignant, unhappy sort of 
people ; and this kept me out of their company, except 
now and then, when the love of sports and play en- 
ticed me." 

When about fifteen years of age, " it pleased God," 
he writes, '• of his wonderful mercy, to open my eyes 
with a clearer insight into the concerns and case of my 
own soul, and to touch my heart with a livelier feel- 
ing of things spiritual than ever I had found before." 
While under this concern, a poor man in the town 
lent his father an old torn book, entitled " Bunny's 
Resolutions." " In reading this book," he observes, 
" it pleased God to awaken my soul, and show me the 
folly of sinning, and the misery of the wicked, and the 
inexpressible weight of things eternal, and the neces- 
sity of resolving on a holy life, more than I was ever 
acquainted with before. The same things which I 
knew before, came now in another manner, with light, 
and sense, and seriousness to my heart." 

" Yet, whether sincere conversion began now, or be- 
fore, or after, I was never able to this day to know ; for 
I had before had some love to the things and people 
that v/ere good, and a restraint from sins, except those 
forementioned ; and so much from most of those, that 
I seldom committed them, and when I did, it was with 
great reluctance. And, both now and formerly, I knew 
that Christ was the only mediator by whom we must 
have pardon, justification, and life; but I had little 
lively sense of the love of God in Christ to the world 
or me, or of my special need of him !" 

" About this time it pleased God that a poor pedlar 



12 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 



came to the door \vith ballads and some good books, 
and my fi\ther bought of him Dr. Sibbs' 'Bruised Reed.' 
Tiiis, also, I read, and found it suited to my taste, and 
seasonably sent me ; which opened more the love of 
God to me, and gave me a livelier apprehension of the 
mystery of redemption, and of my obligations to Jesus 
Christ." 

"After tliis, we had a servant who had a little piece 
of Mr. Perkins' works, ' Of Repentance,' and the 
'Art of living and dying well,' and the ' Government 
of the Tongnc ;' and the reading of that did furtiier 
inform me, and confirm me. And thus, without any 
means but books, was God pleased to resolve me for 
himself." 

Various are the means by which God awakens the 
soul to a sense of its danger, and leads it to the know- 
ledge and enjoyment of himself. The pulpit and the 
school, conversation and reading, correspondence and 
advice, have been employed as instruments in the 
hands of the Eternal Spirit in effecting the conversion 
of souls. To preaching, as the express appointment of 
God, must be ascribed the highest place ; but inferior 
only to it is the instrumentality of religious books. 
In places where the preaching of the Gospel is un- 
known or unattended, the distribution of such books 
is of the utmost importance. To such books Baxter 
was greatly indebted for his conversion : and having 
derived so much benefit from tliis means, he ever after 
employed it extensively among his friends, his flock, 
and all to whom his influence would reach. The facili- 
ties afforded, in the present day, for the dissemination of 
religious knowledge are truly astonishing; and among 
others, the efforts of Religious Tract Societies, with 
their millions of publications, should not be overlooked. 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 13 

Many will arise in the last day, and acknowledge that 
their conversion was efiected by means of these publi- 
cations. Nor is it the least advantage of these institu- 
tions, that they afford an opportunity to persons in the 
humblest circumstances to be instrumental in doing 
good to their fellow-creatures. They can give a Tract, 
though they cannot deliver a discourse ; they can send 
a Tract where they cannot visit in person ; they can 
circulate books wiiere they cannot engage in religious 
conversation. In the formation of Baxter's early reli- 
gious opinions and character, we see the instrumen- 
tality of a laborer, a pedlar, and a servant employed. 
The sovereignty of God is clearly seen in the agents 
and means of salvation. " His wisdom is unsearch- 
able, and his ways are past finding out." " To God, 
only wise, be all the glory." 

Baxter's early education was greatly neglected. His 
professed teachers were either incompetent to their 
task, or suffered him to be occupied rather as he chose 
than according to any regular plan. Notwithstanding 
this neglect and irregularity, he made considerable 
progress. He rose superior to every difficulty, and in 
due time became qualified to enter the university. He 
was persuaded, however, not to enter college, but to 
pursue his studies under the direction of Mr. Wick- 
stead, chaplain to the council at Ludlow Castle. Being 
his only pupil, it was expected that, through the un- 
divided attention of his tutor, his proficiency Avould 
be greater than either at Cambridge or Oxford. The 
preceptor became much attached to the pupil ; but 
being in earnest quest of place and preferment, he 
neglected his charge. He allowed him " books and 
time enough," but never seriously attempted to in- 
struct and improve his mind. Nor was this the only 

L. B. 2 



14 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

disadvantage attending his residence at Ludlow, for 
he was thrown into gay and fashionable society, and 
was exposed to the various temptations incident to 
such a situation. His religious principles were in dan- 
ger of being corrupted or destroyed by the practice of 
gambhng; but he was enabled, by the grace of God, 
to escape the snare, and to resist all subsequent at- 
tempts to lead him astray. In this situation he formed 
an intimacy with a young man of professed piety, but 
who, at length, by the seductive influence of liquor, 
became an apostate. At this period, however, he in- 
structed young Baxter " in the way of God more per- 
fectly ;" prayed with him, exhorted and encouraged 
him in his religious course, and thus became of essen- 
tial service to his young friend. Baxter remained with 
his tutor about a year and a half, and then returned 
home. At the request of lord Newport, he took the 
charge of the grammar school at Wroxeter for a short 
time, as the master was in a dying state. On his death, 
Baxter left this charge, and pursued his studies and 
religious inquiries under the direction of the venerable 
Mr. Garbett, a minister of Wroxeter. 

The health of Baxter was in a precarious state, and, 
in the prospect of eternity, he became more solicitous 
to improve his remaining days in the worship, and 
ways, and service of God. He says : 

"Being in expectation of death, by a violent cough, 
with spitting of blood, &c. of two years continuance, 
supposed to be a consumption, I was awakened to be 
more solicitous about my soul's everlasting state ; and 
I came so short of that sense and seriousness which a 
matter of such infinite weight required, that I was ma- 
ny years in doubt of my sincerity, and thought I had 
no spiritual life at all. I wondered at the senseless 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 15 

hardness of my heart, that I could think and talk of 
sin and hell, and Christ and grace, of God and heaven 
with no more feeling. I cried from day to day to God 
for grace against this senseless deadness. I called my- 
self the most hard-hearted sinner, that could feel no- 
thing of all that I knew and talked of. I was not then 
sensible of the incomparable excellence of holy love 
and delight in God, nor much employed in thanksgiv- 
ing and praise ; but all my groans were for more con- 
trition and a broken heart, and I prayed most for tears 
and tenderness. 

" Thus was I long kept with the calls of approach- 
ing death at one ear, and the questionings of a doubt- 
ful conscience at the other ; and since then I have 
found that this method of God's was very wise, and 
no other was so likely to have tended to my good. 
These benefits of it I sensibly perceived. 

" 1. It made me vile and loathsome to myself, and 
made pride one of the most hateful sins in the world 
to me. I thought of myself as I now think of a detest ■ 
able sinner, and my enemy: that is, with a love of be- 
nevolence, wishing them well, but with little love of 
complacency at all ; and the long continuance of it 
tended the more effectually to a habit. 

" 2. It much restrained me from that sportful levity 
and vanity to which my nature and youthfulness much 
inclined me, and caused me to meet temptations to sen- 
suality with the greatest fear, and made them less ef- 
fectual against me. 

" 3. It made the doctrine of redemption the more 
savory to me, and my thoughts of Christ more serious 
and clear. I remember, in the beginning, how benefi- 
cial to me were Mr. Perkins' short treatise of the 
' Right Knowledge of Christ crucified,' and his ' Ex- 



16 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

position of the Creed,' because they taught me how to 
live by faith on Christ. 

"4, It made the world seem to me as a carcass that 
had neither life nor loveliness, and it destroyed that am- 
bitious desire after literary fame which was the sin of 
my childhood. I had a desire before to have attained 
the highest academical degrees and reputation of learn- 
ing, and to have chosen out my studies accordingly ; 
but sickness, and solicilousness for my doubling soul, 
shamed away all these thoughts as fooleries and chil- 
dren's plays. 

" 5. It set me upon that method of my studies, of 
which, since then, I have found the benefit, ihougli at 
the lime I was not satisfied with myself. It caused me 
first to seek God's kingdom and his righteousness, and 
most to mind the one thing needful ; and to determine 
first on my ultimate end, by which I was engaged to 
choose out and prosecute all other studies but as meant 
to that end. Therefore divinity not only shared with 
the rest of my studies, but always had the first and 
chief place. And it caused me to study a practical di- 
vinity first, in the most practical books, in a practical 
order ; doing all purposely for the informing and re- 
forming of my own soul." 

" And as for those doubts of my own salvation, which 
exercised me many years, the chief causes of them 
were these : 

'• 1. Because I could not distinctly trace the work- 
ings of the Spirit upon my heart, in that method which 
Mr. Bollon, Mr. Hooker, Mr. Rogers, and other di- 
vines describe; nor knew the time of my conversion, 
being wrought on by the forementioned degrees. But, 
since then, I understood thit the soul is in too dark 
and passionate a plight at first to be able to keep an 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 17 

exact account of the order of its own operations; and 
that preparatory grace, being sometimes longer and 
sometimes shorter, and the first degree of special grace 
being usually very small, it is not to be expected that 
many will be able to give a true account of the time 
when special grace began. 

" 2. My second doubt was as aforesaid, because of 
the hardness of my heart, or want of such lively appre- 
hensions of things spiritual as I had about things cor- 
poreal. And though I still groan under this as my 
sin and want, yet I now perceive that a soul in flesh 
works so much after the manner of the flesh, that it 
much desires sensible apprehensions ; but things spi- 
ritual and distant are not so apt to excite emotion and 
stir the passions. 

'• 3. My next doubt was lest education and fear had 
done all that ever was done upon my soul, and regen- 
eration and love were yet to be sought ; because I had 
found conviction from my childhood, and found more 
fear than love in all my duties and restraints. 

" But I afterwards perceived that education is an or- 
dinary way for the conveyance of God's grace, and 
ought no more to be set in opposition to the Spirit, than 
the preaching of the word; and that it was the great 
mercy of God to begin wiih me so soon, and to prevent 
such sins as else might have been my shame and sor 
row while I lived. And I understood, that, though 
fear without love be not a state of saving grace, and 
greater love to the world than to God be not consistent 
with sincerity, yet a little predominant love, prevail- 
ing against worldly love, conjoined with a far greater 
measure of fear, may be a state of special grace. And 
I found that my hearty love of the word of God, and 
of the servants of God, and my desires to be more ho- 



18 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

]y, and especially the hatred of my heart for loving God 
no more, and my wish to love iiim, and be pleasing to 
him, were not without some true love to himself, 
though it appeared more sensibly afterwards. 

" 4. Another of my doubts was, because my grief 
and humiliation were no greater, and because I could 
weep no more for this. 

" But I understood, at last, that God breaks not all 
men's hearts alike, and that the gradual proceedings 
of his grace miglit be one cause, and my nature, not 
apt to weep for other things, another ; and that the 
change of our heart from sin to God is true repent- 
ance; and a loathing of ourselves is true humiliation; 
and that he that had rather leave his sin, than have 
leave to keep it, and had rallier be the most holy, than 
have leave to be unholy or less holy, is neither with- 
out true repentance nor the love of God. 

"5. Another of my doubts was, because I had, after 
my change, committed some sins deliberately and 
knowingly. And, be they ever so small, I thought, he 
that could sin upon knowledge and deliberation, had 
no true grace; and that, if I had but had as strong 
temptations to fornication, drunkenness, fraud, or other 
more heinous sins, I might also have committed them. 
And if these proved that I had then no saving grace, 
after all that I had felt, 1 thought it unlikely that ever 
I should have any." 

'• Tlie means by which God was pleased to give me 
some peace and comfort were — 

'' 1. The reading of many consolatory books. 

"2. The observation of the condition of other men. 
When I heard many make the very same complaints 
that I did, who were people of whom I had the best 
esteem for the uprightness and holiness of their lives. 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 19 

it much abated ray fears and troubles. And, in par- 
ticular, it much comforted me to read him whom 1 
loved as one of tlie holiest of all the martyrs, John 
Bradford, subscribing himself so often, ' The hard- 
hearted sinner,' and ' Tlie miserable hard-hearted sin- 
ner,' even as I was used to do myself. 

"3. And it much increased my peace, when God's 
providence called me to the comforiingof many others 
that had the same complaints. "While I answered their 
doubts, I answered my own ; and the charity which I 
was constrained to exercise for them, redounded to 
m.yself, and insensibly abated my fears, and procured 
me an increase of quietness of mind. 

'' And yet, after all, I was glad of probabilities in- 
stead of full undoubted cerlainlies: and to this very 
day, though I have no such degree of doubtfulness as 
is any great trouble to my soul, or procures any great 
disquieting fears, yet I cannot say that I have such a 
certainty of my own shicerity in grace, as excludes all 
doubts and fears of the contrary." 

Baxter's old preceptor induced him for a season to 
lay aside all thoughts of the ministry, and to become 
an attendant at court. He resided for a month at 
Whitehall, but became so disgusted with the scenes 
and practices of high life, that his conscience would 
not allow his longer continuance from home. He says : 
" I had, quickly, enough of the court ; when I saw a 
stage-play, instead of a sermon, on the Lord's day in 
the afternoon, and saw what course was there in fash- 
ion, and heard little preaching but what was. in some 
part, against the puritans, I was glad to be gone. At 
the same time, it pleased God, my mother fell sick, and 
desired my return ; and so I resolved to bid farewell 
to those kinds of employments and expectations." 



20 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

When he was going liome into the country, about 
Christmas day, A. D. 1634, he relates that, on meeting 
a loaded wagon, his horse fell on the side of a hank, 
by which he was thrown before the wheel, which he 
says " had gone over me, but that, as it pleased God, 
the horses suddenly stopped, without any discernable 
cause, till I was recovered ; which commanded me to 
observe the mercy of my Protector." 

On his return he found his mother extremely ill. 
She lingered till May, and then expired. 

Baxter's own health was in a very precarious state ; 
but he was anxiously desirous of doing good during 
the short time which he supposed would be allotted to 
him on earth. He states : 

" My own soul being under serious apprehensions 
of another world, I was exceedingly desirous to com- 
municate those apprehensions to ignorant, presump- 
tuous, careless sinners. But I was in a very great per- 
plexity between my encouragements and my discou- 
ragements. I was conscious of my personal insuffi- 
ciency, for want of that measure of learning and expe- 
rience which so great and high a work required. I 
knew that the want of academical honors and degrees 
was likely to make me contemptible with the most, and 
consequently hinder the success of my endeavors. 
But yet, expecting to be so quickly in another world, the 
great concerns of miserable souls prevailed with me 
against all these impediments; and being conscious of 
a thirsty desire of men's conversion and salvation, and 
of some competent persuading faculty of expression 
which fiM'vent affections might help to actuate, I re- 
solved, that if one or two souls only might be won to 
God, it would recompense all the dishonor I might re- 
ceive from men !" 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 21 

CHAPTER II. 

HIS ORDINATION, AND FIRST PUBLIC ENGAGEMENTS. 

Baxter was induced, by the advice of his friend 
Berry, to accept the head mastership of a newly en- 
dowed grammar school at Dudley, Worcestershire. 
He was the more ready to accept this situation, as it 
would afford him an opportunity of preaching in that 
unenlightened neighborhood. He applied for ordina- 
tion to the Bishop of Winchester, which, after exami- 
nation and subscription, was duly administered. He, 
moreover, received the bishop's license to teach in the 
school at Dudley. In a subsequent period of his life, 
he dedicated his treatise on " Self denial" to his friend 
Colonel Berry, whose character had undergone a con- 
siderable change. The following passage from his 
dedicatory letter describes his views and feelings on 
entering the ministry, and his obligation to his friend 
and adviser. " Y(m brought me into the ministry. I 
am confident you know to what ends, and with what 
intentions I desired it. I was tlien very ignorant, 
young, and raw. Though my weakness be yet such as 
I must lament, I must say, to the praise of the great 
Shepherd of the flock, that he hath, since then, offord 
me precious opportunities, much assistance, and as 
much encouragement as to any man that 1 know alive. 
You know my education and initial weakness Avere 
such as forbid me to glory in the flesh ; but I will not 
rob God of his glory to avoid the appearance of osten- 
tation, lest I be proud of seeming not to be proud. 
I doubt not but many thousand souls will thank you, 



22 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

when they have read that you were the man that led 
me into the ministry." 

" Being settled in the new school at Dudley, I there 
preached my first public sermon in the upper parish 
church, and afterwards preached in the villages about ; 
and there had occasion to enter afresh upon the study 
of Conformily ;* for there were many private Christians 
thereabouts that were non-conformists, and one in the 
house with me. And that excellent man, Mr. William 
Fenner, had lately lived two miles off, at Sedgley, who, 
by defending conformity, and honoring it by a won- 
derfully powerful and successful way of preaching, 
conference, and holy living, had stirred up the non- 
conformists the more to a vehement pleading of their 
cause. And though they were there generally godly 
honest people, yet they were smartly censorious, and 
made conformity no small fault. And they lent me 
manuscripts and books which I never saw before ; 
whereupon I thought it my duty to set upon a serious 
impartial trial of the whole cause. 

" In the town of Dudley I lived in much comfort, 
amongst a poor tractable people, lately noted for drun- 
kenness, but commonly more ready to hear God's word 
with submission and reformation than most places 
where I have been, so that having, since the wars, set 
up a monthly lecture there, the church was usually 
as much crowded within, and at the windows, as ever 
I saw any London congregation ; partly through the 
great willingness of the people, and partly by the ex- 
ceeding populousness of the country, where the woods 
and commons are planted with nailers, scythe-smiths, 
and other iron laborers, like a continued village. 

* To the enactments of the established church. 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 23 

' " When I had been but three quarters of a year at 
Dudley, I was, by God's very gracious providence, 
invited to Bridgnorth, the second town of Shropshire, to 
preach there, as assistant to the worthy pastor of that 
place. As soon as I heard the place described, I judged 
it was the fittest for me; for there was just such em- 
ployment as I desired and could submit to without vi- 
olating conscience, and some probability of peace and 
quietness. 

" But the people proved a very ignorant, dead-heart- 
ed people, the town consisting too much of inns and 
ale-houses, and having no general trade to employ the 
inhabitants, which is the undoing of many large towns. 
So that though, through the great mercy of God, ray first 
labors were not without success in the conversion of 
some ignorant and careless sinners to him, and were 
over-valued by those that were already regardful of 
the concerns of their souls, yet they were not so suc- 
cessful as they proved afterv/ards in other places. 
Though I was in the fervor of my affections, and ne- 
ver any where preached with more vehement desires 
of men's conversion, yet, with the generality, applause 
of the preacher was most of the success of the sermon 
which I could hear of; and their tippling, and ill-com- 
pany, and dead-heartedness quickly drowned all." 

Though a friend to episcopacy, yet the omission of 
some required ceremonies, together with his refusal to 
take the " et cetera" oath, (binding him never to give 
his consent to alter the government of the church in par- 
ticulars not distinctly defined,) had nearly occasioned 
his expulsion from the ministry, and the loss of his 
Hberty, if not, in his weak and infirm state of health, 
of life itself. Indeed, some of his accusers threatened 
him with " hanging" if he did not comply. God, how- 



24 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

ever, in whose hands are the hearts of all men, changed 
the purposes and restrahied the malice of his adver- 
saries. He continued to preach at Bridgnorth a year 
and three-quarters, in the uninterrupted enjoyment of 
liberty, which, says he, " I took to be a very great mer- 
cy to me in these troublesome times.** 

He says, '' The long parliament, among other parts 
of their reformation, resolved to reform the corrupted 
clergy, and appointed a committee to receive petitions 
and complaints against them ; which was no sooner 
understood, but multitudes in all countries came up 
■with petitions against their ministers." 

" Among all these complainers, the town of Kidder- 
minister, in Worcestershire, drew up a petition against 
their minister. The vicar of the place they represented 
as utterly insufficient for the ministry ; presented by a 
papist; unlearned; preaching but once a quarter, and 
that so feebly as exposed him to laughter, and showed 
that he understood not the essential articles of Chris- 
tianity; as one that frequented ale houses ; had some- 
times been drunk, &c. 

" The vicar, knowing his insufficiency, and hearing 
how two others in this case had fared, desired to com- 
pound the business with them, which was soon accom- 
plished. Hereupon they invited me to them from 
Bridgnorth. The bailiff of the town, and all the feof- 
fees, desired me to preach with them, in order to a full 
determination. My mind was much to the place, as 
soon as it was described to me, because it was a full 
congregation, with a most convenient temple; they 
were an ignorant, rude, and revelling people for the 
most part, who had need of preaching; and yet had 
among them a small company of converts, humble, 
godly, and of good conversation, and not much hated 



LIFE OF BAXTER, 2^ 

by the rest, and therefore the fitter to assist tneir teach 
er: but above all, because they had hardly ever had 
any lively, serious preaching among them. For Bridg- 
north had made me resolve that I would never more 
go among a people that had been hardened in unpro- 
fitableness under an awakening ministry 5 but either to 
such as never had any convincing preacher, or to such 
as had profited by him. As soon as I came to Kidder- 
minster, and had preached there one day, I was cho- 
sen, without opposition ; for though fourteen only had 
the power of choosing, they desired to please the rest. 
And thus I was brought, by the gracious providence 
of God, to that place which had the chief of my labors, 
and yielded me the greatest fruits. And I noted the 
mercy of God in this, that I never went to any place in 
my life, among all my changes, which I had before 
designed, or thought of, much less sought, but only 
to those that I never thought of, till the sudden invita- 
tion surprised me." 



CHAPTER in. 

flIS LABORS, TRIALS, A^D SUCCESS AT KmDERMlNSTEH. 

To this important and interesting scene of labor 
Baxter was invited on the 9th of March, 1640. His le- 
gal appointment, after laboring among the people dur- 
ing the interval, is dated April 5, 1641. 

For this station of public and extensive usefulness, 
he had been prepared by various painful and alarming 
afflictions. He says: "All this forementioned time of 

L. B. 3 



26 LIFE OF DAXTER. 

my ministry was passed under my foredescribed weak- 
nesses, which were so great as made me live and preach 
in continual expectation of death, supposing still that 
I had not long to live. And this I found, through all 
my life, to be an invaluable mercy to me : for — 

" 1. It greatly weakened temptations. 

" 2. It kept me in great contempt of the world. 

"3. It taught me highly to esteem time; so that, if 
any of it passed away in idleness or unprofitableness, 
it was so long a pain and burden to my mind. So that 
I must say, to the praise of my most wise Conductor, 
that time has still seemed to me much more precious 
than gold, or any earthly gain, and its minutes have 
not been despised, nor have I been much tempted to 
any of the sins which go under the name of pastime, 
since I undertook my work. 

"4. It made me study and preach things necessary, 
and a little stirred up my sluggish heart to speak to 
sinners with some compassion, as a dying man to dy- 
ing men. 

" These, with the rest which I mentioned before, 
when I spakeof my infirmities, were the benefits which 
God afforded me by affliction. I humbly bless his gra- 
cious providence, who gave me liis treasure in an 
earthen vessel, and trained me up in the school of af- 
fliction, and taught me the cross of Christ so soon, that 
I might be rather, as Luther speaks, ' a cross-bearer, 
than a cross-maker, or im poser.' " 

His spiritual conflicts, too, were of a distressing cha- 
racter, and tended, eventually, by the grace of God, 
to qualify him to be an instructor of others, both as a 
preacher and writer. He says : 

" At one time, above all the rest, struggling under 
a new and unusual disease, which put me upon the 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 27 

present expectation of my change, and going for com- 
fort to the promises, as I was used, the tempter strong- 
ly assaulted my faith, and would have drawn me to- 
wards infidelity itself. Till I was ready to enter into 
the ministry, all my troubles had been raised by the 
hardness of my heart and the doubtings of my own 
sincerity ; but now all these began to vanish, and never 
much returned to this day. And, instead of these, I 
was now assaulted with more pernicious temptations; 
especially to question the certain truth of the sacred 
Scriptures ; and also the life to come, and the immor- 
tality of tlie soul. And tliese temptations assaulted me, 
not as they do the melancholy, with horrid vexing im- 
portunity ; but, by pretence of sober reason, they would 
have drawn me to a settled doubting of Christianity. 
" And here I found my own miscarriage and the 
great mercy of God. My miscarriage, in that I had so 
long neglected the well settling of the foundations on 
which I rested, while I had bestowed so much time 
in the superstructure and the applicatory part. For, 
not daring to question the truth of the Scriptures and 
the life to come, 1 had either taken it for a certainty 
upon trust, or taken up with common reasons of it, 
which I had never well considered, digested, or made 
my own ; insomuch, that when this temptation came, 
it seemed at first to answer and enervate all the for- 
mer reasons of my feeble faith, which made me take 
the Scriptures for the word of God ; and it set before me 
such mountains of difficulty in the incarnation, the 
person of Christ, his undertaking and performance, 
with the scripture chronology, histories, style, &c. as 
had overwhelmed me, if God had not been my strength. 
And here I saw much of the mercy of God, that he let 
not out these terrible and dangerous temptations upon 



28 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

me while I was weak and in the infancy of my faith ; 
for then I had never been able to withstand them. But 
faith is like a tree whose top is small while the root is 
young and shallow; and therefore, as then it has but 
small rooting, so it is not liable to the shaking winds 
and tempests as the large and high-grown trees are ; but, 
as the lop rises higher, so the root at once grows 
greater and deeper fixed, to cause it to endure its 
greater assaults. 

" Though formerly I was wont, when any such 
temptation came, to cast it aside, as fitter to be abhor- 
red than considered, yet now this would not give me 
satisfaction; but I was disposed to dig to the very 
foundations, and seriously to examine the reasons of 
Christianity, and to give a hearing to all that could be 
said against it, that so my faith might be indeed my 
own. And at last I found that ' Nothing is so firmly 
believed as that which has been some time doubted.' 

" In the storm of this temptation, I questioned awhile 
whether I were indeed a Christian or an infidel, and 
whether faith could consist with such doubts as I was 
conscious of. For I had read, in the works of papists 
and protestants, that faith had certainty, and was more 
than an opinion ; and that, if a man should live a god- 
ly life, from the bare apprehensions of the probability 
of the truth of Scripture and the life to come, it would 
not save him, as being no true godliness or faith. But 
ray judgment closed with the reason of Dr. Jackson's 
determination of this case, which supported me much ; 
that as in the very assenting act of faith there may be 
such weakness as may make us cry — ' Lord, increase 
our faith: we believe; Lord, help our belief;' so, 
when faith and unbelief are in their conflict, it is the 
effects which must show us which of them is victo- 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 29 

rious. And that he that has so much faith as will cause 
him to deny himself, take up his cross, and forsake all 
the profits, honors, and pleasures of this world, for 
the sake of Christ, the love of God, and the hope of 
glory, has a saving faith, how weak soever. For God 
cannot condemn the soul tliat truly loves and seeks 
him ; and those that Christ brings to persevere in the 
love of God, he brings to salvation. And there were 
divers things that, in this assault, proved great assist- 
ances to my faith." 

"From this assault I was forced to take notice that 
our belief of the truth of the word of God, and the life 
to come, is the spring of uU grace; and with which it 
rises or falls, flourishes or decays, is actuated or stands 
still: and that there is more of this secret unbelief at 
the root than most of us are aware of; and that our 
love of the world, our boldness in sin, our neglect of 
duty, are caused lience. I observed easily in myself, 
that if at any time Satan, more than at other times, 
weakened my belief of Scripture and the life to come, 
my zeal in every religious duty abated with it, and f 
grew more indifferent in religion than before. 1 was 
more inclined to conformity in those points which I 
had lalcen to be sinful, and was ready to think. Why 
should I be singular, and offend the bishops and other 
superiors, and make myself contemptible in the world, 
and expose myself to censures, scorns and suff. rings, 
and all for such liltk^ tilings as these, wjien the foun- 
dations themselves have such great difficulties as I am 
unable to overcome? But when faiih revived, tlien 
none of the parts or concerns of religion seemed sm:ill ; 
and then man seemed nothing, and the world a shadow, 
and Cod was all. 

"In the beginning, I doubled not of the truth of the 

L. B. 3* 



30 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

Holy Scriptures, or of the life to come, because I saw 
not the difficulties which might cause doubting. After 
that, I saw them, and I doubted, because I saw not 
that which should satisfy the mind against them. 
Since that, having seen both difficulties and evidences, 
though I am not so unmolested as at the first, yet is 
my faith, I hope, much stronger, and far better able 
to repel the temptations of Satan, and the sophisms of 
infidels, than before. But yet it is my daily prayer ihat 
God would increase my faith, and give my soul a clear 
sight of the evidences of his truth, and of himself, and 
of the invisible world." 

Nor was Baxter exempt from slander: his moral 
character was assailed by base and unfounded calum- 
nies. These he was enabled successfully to refute. His 
chief calumniator was obliged to confess that the 
charges were fabrications, and to beg his forgiveness; 
which was freely given. 

The trials of ministers are frequently of a painful 
character, but, like those of private Christians, " they 
work together for good." They are over-ruled, noi 
only for their personal benefit, but for the edification 
of their fiocks. " If their sufferings abound, so do their 
consolations also," and that in order to their being the 
comforters of others, 2 Cor. 1 : 1-5. 

Baxter entered on his work with spirit and zeal ; nor 
was he suffered to labor long without witnessing bless- 
ed results in the conversion of sinners to God. At first 
he used to register the names, characters, &c. of his 
converts ; but they became, at length, so numerous, that 
he discontinued the practice. 

He continued successfully discharging his ministe- 
rial and pastoral labors for nearly two years, when the 
civil wars (growing out of a runture behVfTn the j.jnj:j 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 31 

and his parliament) threw the whole country into con- 
fusion. His situation, though he was no partizan, was 
critical and dangerous. He was at length advised by 
his friends to retire from Kidderminster till public af- 
fairs should assume a more peaceable aspect. The im- 
mediate occasion of his leaving, he thus describes : 

" About that time the parliament sent down an or- 
der for the demolishing of all statues and images of 
any of the three persons in the blessed Trinity, or of 
the virgin Mary, which should be found in churches, 
or on the crosses in churchyards. My judgment was 
for the obeying of this order, thinking it came from 
just authority; but I meddled not in it, but left the 
churchwarden to do what he thought good. The 
churchwarden, an honest, sober, quiet man, seeing a 
crucifix upon the cross in the churchyard, set up a 
ladder to have reached it, but it proved too short: 
whilst he was gone to «eek another, a crew of the 
drunken riotous party of the town, poor journeymen 
and servants, took the alarm, and ran together with 
weapons to defend the crucifix and the church images, 
of which there were many remaining since the time of 
popery. The report was among them that I was the ac- 
tor, and it was me they sought ; but I was walking al- 
most a mile out of town, or else, I suppose, I had there 
ended my days. When they missed me and the church- 
warden both, they went raving about the streets to seek 
us. Two neighbors that dwelt in other parishes, hearing 
that they sought my life, ran in among them to see 
whether I were there, and they knocked them both 
down in the streets; and both of them are since dead, 
and, I think, never perfectly recovered of the wounds 
then received. When they had foamed about half an 
hour, and met with none of us, I came in from rav 



32 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

walk, and hearing the people cursing at me in their 
doors, I wondered what the matter was, but quickly- 
found how fairly I had escaped. The next Lord's day 
I dealt plainly with them, and laid open to them the 
quality of that action, and told them, seeing they so 
requited me as to seek my blood, I was willing to 
leave them, and save them from that guilt. But the 
poor sots were so amazed and ashamed that they took 
on sorrily, and were reluctant to part with me. 

" About this time the king's declarations were read 
in our market-place, and the Reader, a violent country- 
gentleman, seeing me pass the streets, stopped, and 
said, ' There goes a traitor,' without ever givmg a syl- 
lable of reason for it. 

'• And the commission of array was set afoot, for 
the parliament meddled not with the militia of that 
county, Lord Howard, their lieutenant, not appearing. 
Then the rage of the rioters grew greater than before. 
And in preparation for the war, they had got th-e word 
among them — 'Down with the roundheads;' insomuch 
that if a sitranger passed in many places, tiiat had short 
hair and a civil habit, the rabble presently cried, 'Down 
with tiie roundheads;' and some they knocked down 
in the open streets. 

^' In this f'.iry of tlie rab!)le I was advised to with- 
draw awhile from home; whereupon I went to GIoii- 
cesltT. As I passed but through a corner of the sub- 
urbs of Worcester, thoy ihul knew me not cried, ' Down 
with the roundheads;' and I was ghid to spu,r on and 
begone. But when I came to Gloucester, among stran- 
gers also tlnit had never known me, I found a civil, 
courteous, and religious people, as different from Wor- 
cester as if tlu^y had lived under another government." 

" When 1 hud been at Gloucester a month, my neigh- 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 33 

bors of Kidderminster came for me home, and told me 
that if I stayed any longer the people would interpret 
it either that I was afraid, upon some guilt, or that I 
was against the king; so I bid my host, Mr. Darney, 
the town-clerk, and my friends, farewell, and never 
went to Gloucester more. 

" For myself, I knew not what course to take. To 
live at home I was uneasy; but especially now, v/hen 
soldiers, on one side or other, would be frequently 
among us, and we must be still at the mercy of every 
furious beast that would make a prey of us. I had 
neither money nor friends. I knew not who would 
receive me in any place of safety ; nor had I any thing 
to satisfy them for my diet and entertainment. Here- 
upon I was persuaded, by one that was with me, to go 
to Coventry, where one of my old acquaintance was 
minister, Mr. Simon King, some time schoolmaster at 
Bridgnorth. So thither I went, with a purpose to stay 
there till one side or other had got the victory, and 
the war was ended, and then to return home. 

" Whilst I was thinking what course to take, the 
committee and governor of the city desired me that I 
would stay with them, and lodge in the governor's 
house, and preach to the soldiers. The offer suited 
well with my necessities, but I resolved that I would 
not be chaplain to the regiment, nor take a commis- 
sion ; but, if the mere preaching of a sermon once or 
twice a week to the garrison would satisfy them, I 
would accept of the offer, till I could go home again. 
Here I lived in the governor's house, and followed my 
studies as quietly as in a time of peace, for about a 
year, only preaching once a week to the soldiers, and 
once on the Lord's day to the people, not taking from 
any of them a penny for either, save my diet only." 



34 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

The war continued with unabated fury and severity. 
During his stay at Coventry he was invited by Crom- 
well to become chaplain to his troops which lay at 
Cambridge. This invitation he declined ; but some lime 
after, on learnhig the state of the army and the pros- 
pects of usefulness among tlie soldiers, at the solicita- 
tion of Captain Evanson, he became chaplain to Colo- 
nel Whalley's regiment, and left his quarters at Coven- 
try, to the deep and universal regret of the residents in 
the garrison. 

On joining his regiment he writes: 

"I set myself, from day to day, to find out the cor- 
rupti(nis of the soldiers, and to adapt m.y discourses 
and conversation to their mistakes, both religious and 
political. My life among them was a daily contending 
against seducers, and gently arguing with the more 
tractable." 

His '-efforts to do good" were unremitting. His 
time was occupied " in preaching, conference, and dis- 
puting against confounding errors," and in directing 
and comforting believers under the difficulties and pe- 
rils of the times. His success, however, did not equal 
liis expectations: party spirit ran exceedingly high; 
the soldiers were divided in their religious opinions; 
the camp afforded but few facilities for collecting any 
considerable numbers together, and besides, was con- 
stantly changing its position, according to the direc- 
tion of war. And probably his desire to reconcile their 
religious differences, and to unite them under one re- 
ligious discipline, led him more frequently to dispute 
than to preacM, to dwell more on the details and minu- 
tiae of the Gospel than on its essential truths; to labor 
as though they were at peace and had time for punc- 
tilios, rather than as being in a state of war, and in 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 35 

danger every hour of being hurried into eternity. 
These, with other untoward circumstances, contribu- 
ted to diminish the probability of success, but at the 
same time to iliuslrate the zeal, the piety, and the per- 
severance of the conscientious chaplain. He v.as never 
in any engagement, nor took part, personally, in any 
contests, though present at some sieges. 

After the fatal battle of Vvorcesier, with health en- 
feebled by his excessive exertions in the army, he vi- 
sited his old flock at Kidderminster, and thence pro- 
ceeded to London for medical advice. His physician 
directed him to visit Tunbridge WeJls, and try the 
efficacy of its waters. With this advice he complied. 
His health was in consequence improved, and in due 
time he returned to his quarters in Worcestershire, 
where the array still lay. 

In all his peregrinations with the army and other- 
wise, he preached in most of the churches in the towns 
through which he passed ; and no doubt can be enter- 
tained that his earnest, affectionate, and faithful preach- 
ing was attended with important results. 

While staying at the house of Sir John Cook, Mel- 
borne, Derbyshire, he was seized with a violent bleed- 
ing at the nose, which so reduced his strength that 
his case Vv'as considered almost hopeless. His counte- 
nance was so altered as scarcely to be recognized by 
his most intimate friends. As soon as he could re- 
move, he visited a friend in Leicestershire, where he 
remained three weeks in an exhausted state. In this 
state he was invited by his friends Sir Thomas and Lady 
Rous to take lodgings at their mansion. Thither he 
was conveyed, and experienced the greatest kindness 
and attention. At the end of three months, having re- 
covered his strength, he returned to Kidderminster. 



36 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

During this period of sickness and retirement from 
public labors ; he was anxious to be useful, and to be 
restored, if agreeable to the Divine will, that his use- 
fulness might be increased. He states concerning 
himself, "Being conscious that my time had not been 
improved to the service of God as I wished it had been, 
I put up many an earnest prayer to God that he would 
restore me, and use me more successfully in his work. 
And, blessed be that mercy which heard my groans in 
the day of my distress, and granted my desires, and 
wrought my deliverance, when men and means fail* 
ed, and gave me opportunity to celebrate his praise." 

It was during this affliction that he wrote his cele- 
brated work, "the Saints' Everlasting Rest:"* a work, 
the usefulness of which no mortal can estimate. It was 
a blessing to the age in which he lived, and will con- 
tinue to be so to the remotest ages of time. Had he 
lived only to write this work, his name would have 
been held in "everlasting remembrance." 

His own account of the origin and progress of the 
work is interesting. "The second book which I wrote, 
and the first which I began, was that called 'The 
Saints' Everlasting Rest.' Whilst I was in health, I 
had not the least thought of writing books, or of serv- 
ing God in any more public way than preaching; but, 
when I was weakened with great bleeding, and left 
solitary in my chamber, at Sir John Cook's, in Derby- 
shire, without any acquaintance but my servant about 
me, and was sentenced to death by the physicians, I 
began to contemplate more seriously the everlasting 
rest which I apprehended myself to be just on the 
borders of. And that my thoughts might not too 

* Published by the American Tract Society, 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 37 

much scatter in my meditation, I began to write some- 
thing on that subject, intending but a quantity of a 
sermon or two, but being continued long in weakness, 
where I had no books, and no better employment, I 
pursued it, till it was enlarged to the bulk in which 
it is published. The first three weeks I spent in it was 
at Mr. Nowel's, in Leicestershire j a quarter of a year 
more, at the seasons which so great weakness would 
allow, I bestowed on it at the house of Sir Thomas 
Rous, in Worcestershire ; and I finished it, shortly 
after, at Kidderminster. The first and last parts were 
first done, being all that I intended for my own use ; 
and the second and third parts were written afterwards, 
beyond my first intention. 

This book it pleased God so far to bless to the profit 
of many, that it encouraged me to be guilty of all those 
writings which afterwards followed. The marginal ci- 
tations I put in after I came home to my books ; but 
almost all the book itself was written when I had no 
book but a Bible and a concordance. And I found that 
the transcript of the heart has the greatest force on the 
hearts of others. For the good that I have heard that 
multitudes have received by that book, and the benefit 
which I have again received by their prayers, I here 
numbly return my thanks to Him that compelled me 
o write it." 

Anticipating that some objection might be made in 
respect to its style, he says, in his dedication of the 
work to the people of Kidderminster, " It is no won- 
der, therefore, if I am too abrupt in the beginning, see- 
ing I then intended but the length of a sermon or two. 
Much less may you wonder if the whole is very im- 
perfect, seeing it was written, as it were, with one foot 
in the grave, by a man that was betwixt living and 

L. B 4 



38 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

dead, that wanted strength of nature to quicken inven- 
tion or affection, and had no book but iiis Bible until 
the chief part was finished, nor had any regard to hu- 
man ornaments. But, O how sweet is this providence 
now to my review ! that so happily forced me to the 
work of meditation, which I had formerly found so pro- 
fitable to my soul ! and showed me more mercy in de- 
priving me of other helps than I was aware of! and 
has caused my thoughts to feed on this heavenly sub- 
ject, which has more benefited me than all the studies 
of my life !" 

On his recovery he received a pressing invitation to 
return to his old charge at Kidderminster, which he 
instantly and cordially accepted. He was devotedly 
attached to his people, and considered himself bound 
to resist all attempts to procure his services in other 
places. He thus affectionately writes to " his beloved 
friends :" " If either I or my labors have any public use 
or worth, it is wholly, though not only yours ; and I 
am convinced, by providence, that it is the will of God 
it should be so. This I clearl)'- discerned on my first 
coming to you, in my former abode with you, and in 
the time of my forced absence from you. When I was 
separated by the miseries of the late unhappy wars, I 
durst not fix in any other congregation, but lived in a 
military unpleasing state, lest I should forestall my re- 
turn to you, for whom I conceived myself reserved. 
The offer of great worldly accommodations, with five 
times the means I receive with you, was no temptation 
to me once to question whetlier I should leave you. 
Your free invitation of my return, your obedience to 
my doctrine, the strong affection I have yet towards 
you, above all people, and the general hearty return of 
love whici. 1 find from you, do all persuade me that 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 39 

I was sent into the world especially for the service of 
your souls." 

He resumed his labors under great bodily weakness, 
" being seldom an hour free from pain." He was sub- 
ject to repeated attacks, from which he recovered, ac- 
cording to his own account, chiefly through the inter- 
cessions and fervent prayers of his friends. " Many a 
time have I been brought very low, and received the 
sentence of death in myself, when my poor, honest, 
praying neighbors have met, and, upon their fasting 
and earnest prayers, I have recovered. Once, when 
I had continued very feeble three weeks, and was un- 
able to go abroad, the very day that they prayed for 
me I recovered, and was able to preach on the follow- 
ing Sabbath, and administered the Lord's supper ; and 
was better after it, it being the first time that ever I 
administered it. And ever after that, whatever weak- 
ness was upon me, when I had, after preaching, ad- 
ministered that ordinance to many hundred people, I 
was much revived and eased of my infirmities." 

"O how often," he writes in his ' Dying Thoughts,' 
" have I cried to Him, when men and means were no- 
thing, and when no help in second causes appeared ; 
and how often, and suddenly, and mercifully has he 
delivered me ! What sudden ease, what removal of 
long affliction have I had 1 Such extraordinary changes, 
beyond my own and others' expectations, when many 
plain-hearted, upright Christians have, by fasting and 
prayer, sought God on my behalf, as have over and 
over convinced me of a special providence, and that 
God is indeed a hearer of prayer. And wonders have 
I seen done for others also, upon such prayer, more 
than for myself: yea, and wonders for the church, and 
for public societies." " Shall I therefore forget how 



40 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

often he has heard prayers for me? and how wonder- 
fully he often has helped both me and others; my 
faith has been helped by such experiences, and shall I 
forget them, or question them without cause at last ?'• 

Baxter relates several extraordinary instances of an 
swers to prayer, in the recovery and preservation both 
of himself and friends. He was attentive in seeking 
such blessings, and in observing such circumstances ; 
and, as an old divine justly observes, " they that watch 
providence shall never want a providence to watch.'* 
Having now brought down Baxter's life to the period 
when he settled again amongst his old friends, and re- 
sumed his accustomed labors, it will be desirable to 
introduce, in an abridged form, his own account of his 
" employments, success, and advantages," during his 
fourteen years' continuance among them. 

1. Employments. 

"I preached, before the wars, twice each Lord's 
day ; but, after the war, but once, and once every 
Thursday, besides occasional sermons. Every Thurs- 
day evening, my neighbors that were most desirous, 
and had opportunity, met at my house, and there one 
of them repeated the sermon ; and afterwards they pro- 
posed what doubts any of them had about the sermon, 
or any other case of conscience, and I resolved their 
doubts. And, last of all, I caused sometimes one, and 
sometimes another of them to pray, sometimes praying 
with them myself. Once a week, also, some of the 
young who were not prepared to pray in so great an 
assembly^ met among a few more privately, where 
they spent three hours in prayer together. Every Sa- 
turday night they met at some of their houses to repeat 
the sermon of the last Lord's day, and to pray and pre- 
pare themselves for the following day. Once in a few 



L1F£ Of BAXTER. 41 

weeks we had a day of humiliation, on one occasion 
or other. Two days every week my assistant and my- 
self took fourteen families between us for private ca- 
techising and conference ; he going through the parish, 
and the town coming to me. I first heard them r?cite 
the words of the catechism, and then examined them 
about the sense, and lastly urged them, with all possi- 
ble engaging reason and vehemence, to answerable af- 
fection and practice. If any of them were perplexed 
through ignorance or bashfulness, I forbore to press 
them any farther to answers, but made them hearers, 
and either examined others, or turned all into instruc- 
tion and exhortation. But this, I have opened more 
fully in my * Reformed Pastor.' I spent about an hour 
with a family, and admitted no others to be present, 
lest bashfulness should make it burdensome, or any 
should talk of the weaknesses of others. So that all 
the afternoons, on Mondays and Tuesdays, I spent 
in this, after I had begun it ; for it was many years be- 
fore I attempted it; and my assistant spent the morn- 
ings of the same days in the same employment. Be- 
fore that, I only catechised them in the church, and 
conferred with, now and then one occasionally. 

" Besides all this, I was forced five or six years, by 
the people's necessity, to practise physic. A common 
pleurisy happening one year, and no physician being 
near, I was forced to advise them, to save their lives ; 
and I could not afterwards avoid the importunity of 
the town and country round about. And because 1 
never once took a penny of any one, I was crowded 
with patients, so that almost twenty would be at my 
door at once ; .and though God, by more success than 
I expected, so long encouraged me, yet, at last, I could 
endure it no longer ; partly because it hindered mj' 

L. B. 4* 



42 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

Other studies, and partly because the very fear of mis- 
carrying and doing any one harm, made it an intolera- 
ble burden to me. So that, after some years' practice, 
I procured a godly diligent physician to come and live 
in tvAvn, and bound myself, by promise, to practise no 
more, unless in consultation with him in case of any 
seeming necessity. And so with that answer I turned 
them all off, and never meddled with it more." 

2. Success. 

" I have mentioned my sweet and acceptable em- 
ployment ; let me, to the praise of my gracious Lord, 
acquaint you with some of my success. And I will not 
suppress it, though I forel^now that the malignant will 
impute the mention of it to pride and ostentation. For 
it is the sacrifice of thanksgiving which I owe to my 
most gracious God, which I will not deny him for fear 
of being censured as proud, lest I prove myself proud 
indeed, while I cannot undergo the imputation of pride 
in the offering of my thanks for such undeserved 
mercies. 

" My public preaching met with an attentive, dili- 
gent auditory. Having broke over the brunt of the op- 
position of the rabble before the wars, I found them 
afterwards tractable and unprejudiced. 

"Before I ever entered into the ministry, God bless- 
ed my private conference to the conversion of some, 
who remain firm and eminent in holiness to this day. 
Then, and in the beginning of my ministry, I was 
wont to number them as jewels ; but since then I could 
not keep any number of them. 

" The congregation was usually full, so that we 
were led to build five galleries after my coming thi- 
ther, the church itself being very capacious, and the 
most commodious and convenient that ever I was in. 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 43 

Our private meetings also were full. On the Lord's 
day there was no disorder to be seen in the streets, 
but you might hear a hundred families singing psalms 
and repeating sermons, as you passed through the 
streets. In a word, when I came thither first, there 
was about one family in a street that worshipped God 
and called on his name ; and when I came away, there 
were some streets where there was not more than one 
family in the side of a street that did not so ; and that 
did not, in professing serious godliness, give us hopes 
of their sincerity. And of those families which were 
the worst, being inns and ale-houses, usually some per- 
sons in each house did seem to be religious. Though 
our administration of the Lord's supper was so order- 
ed as displeased many, and the far greater part kept 
themselves away, yet we had six hundred that were 
communicants, of whom there were not twelve that I 
had not good hopes of, as to their sincerity ; and those 
few that came to our communion, and yet lived scan- 
dalously, were excommunicated afterwards. And I 
hope there were many who feared God that came not 
to our communion, some of them being kept off by 
husbands, by parents, by masters, and some dissuaded 
by men that differed from us. 

" When I commenced personal conference with each 
family and catechising them, there were very few fa- 
milies in all the town that rciused to come; and those 
few were beggars at the town's ends, who were so ig- 
norant that they were ashamed it should be manifest. 
And few families went from me without some tears, or 
seemingly serious promises for a godly life. Yet many 
ignorant and ungodly persons there were still among 
us ; but most of them were in the parish, and not in 
the town, and in those parts of the parish which were 



44 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

farthest from the town. Some of the poor men com- 
petently understood the body of divinity, and were 
able to judge in difficult controversies. Some of them 
were so able in prayer, that very few ministers equalled 
them in order and fullness, apt expressions, holy ora- 
tory, and fervency. A great number of them were able 
to pray very appropriately with their families, or with 
others. The temper of their minds, and the correct- 
ness of their lives, were even more commendable than 
their talents. The professors of serious godliness were 
generally of very humble minds and carriage ; of meek 
and quiet behavior towards others ; and blameless in 
their conversation. 

" And in my poor endeavors with my brethren in 
the ministry, my labors were not lost. Our discussions 
proved not unprofitable ; our meetings were never con- 
tentious, but always comfortable. We took great de- 
light in the company of each other ; so that I know 
the remembrance of those days is pleasant both to them 
and me. When discouragements had long kept me 
from proposing a way of church order and discipline 
which all might agree in, that we might neither have 
churches ungoverned, nor fall into divisions among 
ourselves at the first mention of it, I found a readier 
consent than I could expect, and all went on without 
any great difficulties. And when I attempted to bring 
them all conjointly to the work of catechising and in- 
structing every family by itself, I found a ready con- 
sent in most, and performance in many. So that I 
must here, to the praise of my dear Redeemer, set up 
this pillar of remembrance, even to his praise who 
hath employed me so many years in so comfortable a 
work, with such encouraging success ! O what am I, 
a worthless worm, not only wanting academical ho- 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 45 

nors, but much of that furniture which is needful to so 
high a work, that God should thus abundantly encou- 
rage me, when the reverend instructors of my youth 
labored fifty years together in one place, and could 
scarcely say they had been instrumental in the con- 
version of even one or two of their hearers. And the 
greater was this mercy, because I was naturally of a 
desponding spirit ; so that if I had preached one year, 
and seen no fruits of it, I should hardly have forborne 
running away like Jonah, but should have thought 
that God called me not to that place." 

3. Advantages. 

" Having related my encouraging successes in this 
place, I shall next tell you by what and how many 
advantages so much was effected, under that grace 
which worketh by means, though with a free diversi- 
ty ; which I do for the help of others in managing ig- 
norant and sinful people. 

" One advantage was, that I came to a people that 
never had any awakening ministry before. For if they 
had been hardened under a powerful ministry, and 
been sermon proof, I should have expected less. 

" Another advantage was, that at first I was in the 
vigor of my spirits, and had naturally a familiar mov- 
ing voice, which is a great matter with the common 
hearers ; and doing all in bodily weakness, as a dying 
man, my soul was the more easily brought to serious- 
ness, and to preach as a dying man to dying men ; for 
drowsy formality does but stupify the hearers and 
rock them asleep. It must be serious preaching which 
makes men serious in hearing and obeying it." 

" Another advantage which I had was, the accepta- 
tion of my person. Though to win estimation and 
love to ourselves only, be an end that none but proud 



46 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

men and hypocrites intend, yet it is most certain that 
the acceptableness of the person ingratiates the message, 
and greatly prepares the people to receive the truth. 
Had they taken me to be ignorant, erroneous, scanda- 
lous, worldly, self-seeking, or such like, I could have 
expected small success among them. 

" Another advantage which I had was through the 
zeal and diligence of the godly people of the place, who 
thirsted after the salvation of their neighbors, and were, 
in private, my assistants ; and being dispersed through 
the town, they were ready, in almost all companies, 
to repress seducing words, and to justify godliness, and 
convince, reprove, and exhort men according to their 
needs ; and also to teach them how to pray, and to 
help them to sanctify the Lord's day. Those people 
that had none in their families who could pray or re- 
peat the sermons, went to the houses of their neigh- 
bors who could do it, and joined with them ; so that 
some houses of the ablest men in each street were filled 
with them that could do nothing or little in their own. 

" And the holy, humble, blameless lives of the reli- 
gious was a great advantage to me. The malicious peo- 
ple could not say. Your professors here are as proud 
and covetous as any. But the blameless lives of godly 
people shamed opposers, and put to silence the igno- 
rance of foolish men, and many were won by their 
good conversation." 

" Our private meetings were a marvellous' help to 
the propagating of godliness among them ; for thereby 
truths that slipped away were recalled, and the seri- 
ousness of the people's minds renewed, and good de 
sires cherished ; and liereby their knowledge was much 
increased ; and here the younger Christians learned 
to pray, by frequently hearing others. And here I had 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 47 

Opportunity to know their case ; for if any were touch- 
ed and awakened in public, I would presently see them 
drop in to our private meetings." 

" Another furtherance of my work was the works 
which I wrote and distributed among them. Of some 
small books I gave each family one, which came to 
about eight hundred ; of the larger I gave fewer ; and 
to every family that was poor, and had not a Bible, I 
gave a Bible. I had found, myself, the benefit of read- 
ing to be so great, that I could not but think it would 
be profitable to others. 

" And it was a great advantage to me, that my neigh- 
bors were of such a trade as allowed them time enough 
to read or talk of holy things ; for the town liveth upon 
the weaving of Kidderminster stuffs, and as they stand 
in their loom they can set a book before them, or edify 
one another." 

" And I found that my single life afforded me much 
advantage ; for I could the more easily take my people 
for my children, and think all that I had too little for 
them, in that I had no children of my own to tempt 
me to another way of using it. And being discharged 
from the most of family cares, keeping but one ser- 
vant, I had the more time and liberty for the labors of 
my calling, 

'• And God made use of my practice of physic among 
them as a very great advantage to my ministry ; for 
they that cared not for their souls, loved their lives 
and cared for their bodies. And by this they were 
made almost as observant as a tenant is of his land- 
lord. Sometimes I could see before me in the church 
a very considerable part of the congregation, whose 
lives God had made me a means to save, or to recover 



48 LIFE OF BAXTER^ 

their health ; and doing it for nothing, so obliged them, 
that they would readily hear me. 

"And it was a great advantage to me, that there 
were at last few that were bad, who had not some of 
their own relations converted. Many children were 
subjects of God's grace at fourteen, or fifteen, or sixteen 
years of age; and this did marvellously reconcile the 
minds of their parents to godliness. They that would 
not hear me, would hear their own children. They 
that before could have talked against godliness, would 
not hear it spoken against when it was their children's 
case. Many that would not be brought to it themselves, 
were gratified that they had intelligent religious chil- 
dren. And we had some persons near eighty years of 
age, who are, I hope, in heaven, and the conversion of 
their own children was the chief means to overcome 
their prejudice, and old customs, and conceits. 

" And God made great use of sickness to do good to 
man)\ For though sick-bed promises are usually soon 
forgotten, yet was it otherwise with many among us ; 
and as soon as they were recovered, they first came 
to our private meetings, and so kept in a learning state, 
till further fruits of piety appeared." 

" Another of my great advantages was, the true 
worth and unanimity of the honest ministers of the 
country round about us, who associated in a way of 
concord with us. Their preaching was powerful and 
sober; their spirits peaceable and meek, disowning the 
treasons and iniquities of the times, as well as we ; they 
were wholly devoted to the winning of souls ; self- 
denying, and of most blameless lives ; evil spoken of 
by no sober men, but greatly beloved by their own 
people and all that knew them ; adhering to no fac- 
tion J neither Episcopal, Presbyterian, nor Independ- 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 49 

ent, as to parties ; but desiring union, and loving that 
which is good, in all." 

" Another great help to my success at last, was the 
before described work of personal conference with 
every family apart, and catechising and instructing 
them. That which was spoken to them personally, 
and sometimes drew forth their answers, awakened 
their attention, and was more easily applied than pub- 
lic preaching, and seemed to do much more upon them. 

" And the exercise of church discipline was no small 
furtherance of the people's good 5 for I found plainly, 
that without it I could not have kept the more spiritual 
from separations and divisions. There is something 
generally in their dispositions which inclines them to 
separate from open ungodly sinners, as men of ano- 
ther nature and society ; and if they had not seen me 
do something reasonable for a regular separation of the 
notorious obstinate sinners from the rest, they would 
have withdrawn themselves irregularly ; and it would 
not have been in my power to satisfy them." 

" Another means of success was, directing my in 
structions to them in a suitableness to the main end, 
and yet so as might suit their dispositions and diseases. 
I d.aily opened to them, and with the greatest impor- 
tunity labored to imprint upon their minds the great 
fundamental principles of Christianity, even a right 
knowledge and belief of, and subjection and love to 
God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost ; and 
love to all men, and concord with the church and one 
another. I daily so inculcated the knowledge of God 
our Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, and love and 
obedience to God, and unity with the spiritual church, 
and love to men, and hope of life eternal, that these 
were the matter of their daily thoughts and discourses, 

L. B. 5 



50 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

and indeed their religion. And yet I usually put some- 
thing in my sermon which was above their own dis- 
covery, and which they had not known before ; and 
this I did, that they might be kept humble, and still 
perceive their ignorance, and.be willing to keep in a 
learning state. And I did this also to increase their 
knowledge and make religion pleasant to them, by a 
daily addition to their former light, and to draw them 
on with desire and deligiit. But these tilings which 
they did not know before, were not unprofitable con- 
troversies, which tended not to edification, nor novel- 
ties in doctrine, contrary to tlie universal church; but 
either such points as tended to illustrate the great doc- 
trines before-mentioned, or usually about the right me- 
thodizing of them ; as the opening of ihe true and pro- 
fitable method of the creed or doctrine of faith, the Lord's 
prayer or matter of our desires, and the ten command- 
ments or law of practice ; which afford matter to add 
to the knowledge of most professors of religion a long 
lime. And when that is done, they must be led on still 
further, by degrees, as they are capable ; but so as not 
to leave the weak behind ; and so as shall still be truly 
subservient to the great points of faith, hope, and love, 
holiness and unity, which must be still inculcated as 
the beginning and the end of all." 

" And it much furthered my success, that I stayed 
still in this one place near two years before the wars, 
and above fourteen years after; for he that removeth 
often from place to place, may sow good seed in many 
places, but is not likely to see much fruit in any, un- 
less some other skillful hand shall follow him to water 
it. It was a great advantage to me to have almost all 
the religious people of the place of my own instruct- 
ing and informing ; and that they were not formed 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 61 

into erroneous and factious principles before ; and that 
I stayed to see them grown up to some confirmedness 
and maturity." 

These passages strikingly depict the means and ef- 
fects of a revival of religion. Only let love to the Re- 
deemer burn with quenchless ardor in the breast, and 
eternity with its tremendous and unutterable conse- 
quences be distinctly realized ; compassion to immor- 
tal spirits infuse its tenderness and solicitude through- 
out the soul ; a deep and unfailing sense of ministerial 
responsibility rest upon the conscience ; then all the 
powers, talents, and influence that can be commanded, 
will be brought into exercise, and made to bear with 
unceasing energy on the great work of saving immor- 
tal souls, and then the Lord will command his " bless- 
ing, even life for evermore." 

The secret of Baxter's success, perhaps, consisted 
prominently in the zeal, affection, and perseverance he 
displayed in following his people to their homes. His 
visits from house to house were for the purpose of ap- 
plying with more close and pungent force the truths 
which were taught from the pulpit, or learned in the 
systematic instructions which were given to families 
and to children. And it is remarkable that his success 
in the earliest period of his ministry was chiefly 
amongst the young. In the preface to his work enti- 
tled " Compassionate Counsel to all Young Men," &c. 
he observes—" At Kidderminster, where God most 
blessed my labors, my first and greatest success was 
with the youth : and what was a marvellous way of 
divine mercy, when God had touched the hearts of 
young people, and brought them to the love and obedi- 
ence of the truth, the parents and grand-parents who 
had grown old in an ignorant and worldly state, embrac- 



52 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

ed religion, led by the love of their children, whom 
they perceived to be made, by it, much wiser and bet- 
ter, and more dutiful to them."—" By much experience 
I have been made more sensible of the necessity of 
■warning and instructing youth, than I was before. 
Many say reports have taught it to me : the sad com- 
plaints of mournful parents have taught it me; the 
sad observation of the willful impenitence of some of 
my acquaintance tells it me; the many scores, if not 
hundreds of bills, that have been publicly put up to me 
to pray for wicked and obstinate children, have told it 
me; and, by the grace of God, the penitent confes- 
sions, lamentations, and restitutions of many converts, 
have made me more particularly acquainted with their 
case; which moved me for a time, on my Thursday's 
lecture, the first of every month, to speak to youth 
and those that educate them." 

The religious education of youth is of infinite im- 
portance to families and to a nation, to the church 
and the world. 

The youthful members of his congregation should 
engage the anxious attention of every pastor. They 
are the hopes of his ministry. With them truth meets 
the readiest reception. Among them conversion most 
frequently takes place. From them the most valuable 
members of Christian society are obtained. Rising 
into life, their influence is exerted wholly on the side 
of truth and piety ; and when more matured in years, 
their instructions and example benefit and bless their 
families, their connexions, and the world. The con- 
version of a soul in the period of youth prevents its 
entering on a course of sin, engages it to the practice 
of holiness, ensures the exertion of its influence in be- 
half of God and his cause through the whole of its 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 53 

earthly being ; and thus a career of happiness begins 
which shall '.xtend throughout eternity. 

In connection with this statement of Baxter's labors 
and sue ;ss, some notice may be taken of his work 
entitled the " Reformed Pastor," written expressly to 
arouse the attention and excite the efforts of the Chris- 
tian ministry to the great work in which he himself 
had so successfully engaged. His reverend brethren 
had witnessed the astonishing results of his pastoral 
engagements, and were anxious to make some efforts 
to accomplish among their own people similar results. 
A day of fasting and prayer was appointed by them- 
selves at Worcester, before entering on their untried 
labors, and Baxter was requested to preach on the oc- 
casion. He prepared his sermon, but his illness pre- 
vented his preaching. He therefore enlarged his ser- 
mon into a treatise, and published it. Concerning this 
work he says : 

" I have very great cause to be thankful to God fot 
the success of that book, as hoping many thousand 
souls are the better for it, in that it prevailed with 
many ministers to set upon that work which I there 
exhort them to. Even from beyond the seas I have 
had letters of request to direct them how they might 
promote that work, according as that book had con- 
vinced them that it was their duty. If God would but 
reform the ministry, and set them on their duties 
zealously and faithfully, the people would certainly 
be reformed. All churches either rise or fall as the 
ministry rise or fall, not in riches and worldly gran- 
deur, but in knowledge, zeal, and ability for their 
work." 

Many and just encomiums have been passed on this 
work. "In the whole compass of divinity there is 

L. B. 5* 



54 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

scarcely any thing superior to it, in close pathetic 
appeals to the conscience of the minister of Christ, 
upon the primary duties of his office." The editor of 
a recent edition justly says, " Of the excellence of 
this work it is scarcely possible to speak in too high 
terms. For powerful, pathetic, pungent, and heart- 
piercing address, we know of no work on the pastoral 
care to be compared with it. Could we suppose it to 
be read by an angel, or by some other being possessed 
of an unfallen nature, the argumentation and expostu- 
lations of our author would be felt to be altogether 
irresistible : and hard must be the heart of that minis- 
ter who can read it without being moved, melted, and 
overwhelmed : hard must be his heart, if he be not 
roused to greater faithfulness, diligence, and activity 
in winning souls to Christ. It is a work worthy of be- 
ing printed in letters of gold. It deserves, at least, to 
be engraven on the heart of every minister. I cannot 
help suggesting to the friends of religion that they 
could not, perhaps, do more good at less expense, than 
by presenting copies of this work to the ministers of 
Christ throughout the country. They are the chief 
instruments through whom good is to be effected in 
any country. How important, then, must it be to stir 
them up to holy zeal and activity in the cause of 
the Redeemer ! A tract given to a poor man may be the 
means of his conversion; but a work, such as this, 
presented to a minister, may, through his increased 
faithfulness and energy, prove the conversion of mul- 
titudes." 

In addition to Baxter's numerous ministerial and 
pastoral labors, he was consulted by persons of all 
classes and professions on the various subjects connect- 
ed with church and state, which at that period were 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 55 

hotly and fiercely agitated. His pacific disposition, and 
his desire to promote universal concord among all re- 
ligious parties, were generally known. Hence his ad- 
vice was eagerly sought by all. This must have occu- 
pied no small portion of his time, and caused him no 
little anxiety. He gives a curious account of his being 
consulted by Cromwell, and his preaching before him. 

" At this time Lord Broghill and the Earl of Warwick 
brought me to preach before Cromwell, the protector, 
which was the only time that ever I preached to him, 
save once long before, when he was an inferior man 
among other auditors. I knew not which way to pro- 
voke him better to his duty, than by preaching on 1 
Cor. 1 : 10, against the divisions and distractions of 
the church, and showing how mischievous a thing it 
was for politicans to maintain such divisions for their 
own ends, that they might fish in troubled waters, and 
keep the church, by its divisions, in a state of weakness, 
lest it should be able to offend them: and to show the 
necessity and means of union. But the plainness and 
nearness,! heard, was displeasing to him and his cour- 
tiers; yet they bore with it. 

"A while after, Cromwell sent to speak with me; 
and when I came, in the presence only of three of his 
chief men, he began a long and tedious speech to me 
of God's providence in the change of the government, 
and how God had owned it, and what great things had 
been done at home and abroad, in the peace with Spain 
and Holland, &c. When he had wearied us all with 
speaking thus slowly about an hour, I told him it was 
too great condescension to acquaint me so fully with 
all these matters which were above me, but that we 
took our ancient monarchy to be a blessing, and not 
an evil to the land, and humbly craved his patience, 



56 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

that I might ask him how England had ever forfeited 
that blessing, and unto whom the forfeiture was made? 
I was led to speak of the species of government only, 
for they had lately made it treason by a law to speak 
for the person of the king. Upon that question he was 
awakened into some passion, and told me it was no for- 
feiture, but God had changed it as pleased him ; and 
then he let fly at the parliament, which thwarted him; 
and especially by name at four or five of those mem- 
bers who were my chief acquaintance ; and I presumed 
to defend them against his passion ; and thus four or 
five hours were spent. 

"A few days after, he sent for me again, to hear my 
judgment about liberty of conscience, which he pre- 
tended to be most zealous for, before almost all his pri- 
vy council, where, after another slow, tedious speech 
of his, I told him a little of my judgment." 

Baxter was also consulted by various private indivi- 
duals on cases of conscience, which he was requested 
to solve. To these he lent a willing ear, and adminis- 
tered suitable advice; or he replied to them in suitable 
and interesting letters. This must have occupied his 
time considerably. Besides, during his residence at 
Kidderminster, and while pursuing his indefatigable 
labors among his flock, he wrote and published nearly 
sixty different works, many of them quarto volumes of 
considerable size. Among these may be specially enu- 
merated, in addition to those already noticed, his "Call 
to the Unconverted,"* his " Treatise on Conversion," 
"On Self-denial," on "Crucifying the World," on 
" Peace of Conscience," &c. &c. iScc. 

These herculean labors seem incredible. But for the 

* Published by the American Tract Society. 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 57 

existence of the works themselves, his own declara- 
tions, and the concurring testimony of his several bio- 
graphers, it would have been deemed impossible that, 
with his enfeebled health and incessant pain, he could 
have accomplished so much in so short a time. 

His own account of his general labors shows at once 
his piety and devotedness, his spirit and energy, his 
zeal and perseverance. He remarks : 

" But all these my labors, except my private con- 
ferences with the families, even preaching and prepar- 
ing for it, were but my recreations, and, as it were, the 
work of my spare hours ; for my writings were my 
chief daily labor, which yet went the more slowly on, 
that I never one hour had an amanuensis to dictate to, 
and especially because my weakness took up so much 
of my time. For all the pains that my infirmities ever 
brought upon me, were never half so grievous an afflic- 
tion to me as the unavoidable loss of my time which 
they occasioned." 

His treatise on " Self-denial" originated in his deep 
conviction of the " breadth, and length, and depth of 
the radical, universal, odious sin of selfishness." Un- 
der this conviction he preached a series of sermons on 
the subject, and, at the urgent entreaty of his friends, 
he published them in the form they now assume. He 
says that the work " found better acceptance than 
most of his others, but yet prevented not the ruin of 
church and state, and millions of souls by that sin." 

Previous to this he had published his work on " Con- 
version." This he says " was taken from plain sermons 
which Mr. Baldwin had transcribed out of my notes. 
And though I had no leisure, in this or other writings, 
to take much care of the style, nor to add any orna- 
ments, or citations of authors, I thought it might better 



58 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

pass as it was, than not at all ; and that if the author 
missed of the applause of the learned, yet the book 
might be profitable to tlie ignorant, as it proved, 
through the great mercy of God." 

Apologizing for the plainness and earnestness of his 
manner, he observes, " The commonness and the great- 
ness of men's necessity commanded me to do any thing 
that I could for their relief, and to bring forth some 
water to cast upon this fire, though I had not at hand 
a silver vessel to carry it in, nor thought it the most fit. 
The plainest words are the most profitable oratory in 
the weightiest matters. Fineness is for ornament, and 
delicacy for delight ; but they answer not necessity, 
though sometimes they may modestly attend that which 
answers it. Yea, when they are conjunct, it is hard for 
the necessitous hearer or reader to observe the matter 
of ornament and delicacy, and not to be carried from 
the matter of necessity ; and to hear or read a neat, con- 
cise, sententious discourse, and not to be hurt by it; 
for it usually hinders the due operation of the matter, 
keeps it from the heart, stops it in the fancy, and makes 
it seem as light as the style. We use not compliments 
when we run to quench a common fire, nor do we call 
men to escape from it by an eloquent speech. If we 
see a man fall into fire or water, we regard not the man- 
ner of plucking him out, but lay hands upon him as we 
can, without delay." 

Baxter's "Call to the Unconverted" was made re- 
markably useful. He says. " The occasion of this was 
my converse with Bishop Usher, while I was at Lon- 
don, who, much approving my method or directions 
for peace of conscience, was importunate with me to 
write directions suited to the various states of Chris- 
tians, and also against particular sins. I reverenced the 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 59 

man, but disregarded these persuasions, supposing I 
could do nothing but what was done as well or better al- 
ready. But when he was dead, his words went deeper 
to my mind, and I purposed to obey his counsel; yet 
so as that to the first sort of men, the ungodly, I thought 
vehement persuasions meeter than directions only. 
And so for such I published this little book, which 
God has blessed with unexpected success beyond all 
the rest that I have written, except the Saints' Rest. 
In a little more than a year there were about twenty 
thousand of them printed by my own consent, and 
about ten thousand since, besides many thousands by 
stolen impressions, which men stole for lucre's sake. 
Through God's mercy I have had information of al- 
most whole households converted by this small book, 
which I set so light by. And as if all this in England, 
Scotland, and Ireland were not mercy enough to me, 
God, since I was silenced, has sent it over on his mes- 
sage to many beyond the seas ; for when Mr. Eliot had 
printed the Bible in the Indian language, he next 
translated this my ' Call to the Unconverted,' as he 
wrote to us here." 

In addition to its usefulness mentioned by Baxter 
himself. Dr. Bates relates an instance of six brothers 
being converted at one time by this invaluable book. 
To this work, multitudes now in glory, and many ad- 
vancing thither, stand indebted for their first serious 
impressions. Urged by its awful denunciations, they 
have fled from the " city of destruction ;" they have 
sought refuge at the cross of Calvary. Like the preach- 
ing of John, it awakens, alarms, and terrifies, that it 
may lead to peace, holiness, and glory, through Christ. 

Among other methods of doing good, Baxter adopt- 
ed the plan which is now so generally employed, of 



60 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

publishing small tracts, broadsheets, or handbills. He 
pubhshed various broadsheets, and had them affixed 
to walls and public buildings, that the attention of pas- 
sengers might be arrested, and that those who had no 
leisure for larger works, or were indisposed to pur- 
chase treatises, might be informed, edified, and saved. 
This plan he adopted with great success during the 
raging of the plague. 

This was certainly the most active, useful, and im- 
portant period of his life. His labors subsequently to 
this were of a more chequered, desultory, and less ob- 
vious character. Their results, though undoubtedly 
great, inasmuch as he labored with the same zeal, pie- 
ty, and devotedness as heretofore, yet could not be 
perceived so manifestly as when his efforts were con- 
centrated in one spot, and were superintended by his 
untiring pastoral vigilance. The time of persecution 
for conscience' sake was at hand. He therefore, in 
common wiih multitudes of his brethren, was obliged 
to labor in such places, and on such occasions only, as 
the providence of God pointed out. But these labors 
were not in vain, for, as in days of old, they " that 
were scattered abroad, went every where preaching 
the word." 



CHAPTER IV. 

his teNGAGEMENTS AFTER LEAVING KIDDERMINSTER. 

Baxter had acquired great celebrity, both as a 
preacher and writer. He was known, moreover, to be 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 61 

an ardent friend to civil and ecclesiastical peace. 
Hence he was frequently consulted on these subjects, 
not only by ministers, but by the higher powers. On 
various occasions he went to London, and it would 
seem chiefly on business relating both to the church 
and the nation. Early in April, 1660, he left Kidder- 
minster, and reached London on the 13th of that 
month. The reason of his leaving is not stated, but it 
appears evidently to have been in connexion with the 
state of public affairs. 

It was a saying of Baxter's, that we are " no more 
choosers of our employments than of our successes." 
The truth of this observation he was now especially 
called to verify by his own experience. On reaching 
London he was consulted on the subject of the (king's) 
" Restoration." This event he, in common with multi- 
tudes of his brethren, was desirous of seeing accom- 
plished. 

The new parliament appointed a day of fasting and 
prayer, and required Baxter to preach before them on 
the occasion. This occurred the day before the bill 
was passed for the return of the exiled monarch. 
Shortly after he was called to preach a thanksgiving 
sermon, on Monk's success, at St. Paul's, before the 
lord mayor and aldermen. Neither of the sermons ap- 
pear to have given entire satisfaction. His moderate 
views displeased partizans of all sides : some charged 
him with sedition ; others with vacillation and tempo- 
rizing in politics. He was, however, a friend to the 
king, and rejoiced in the prospect of his restoration. 
He used all his efforts to promote its accomplishment. 

When king Charles was restored, amid the general 
acclamations of the nation, several of the Presbyterian 
ministers were made chaplains in ordinary to him, 
h. B, 6 



62 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

among whom was Baxter. His certificate of appoint- 
ment to the office is dated June 26, 1660. Various con- 
ferences were held by Baxter and his friends, to pro- 
mote a union between episcopacy and presbyterianism. 
A meeting was held on the subject, in the presence of 
Charles, at which Baxter was the chief speaker. His 
address on the occasion is distinguished alike by its 
piety and fidelity. He was desirous of promoting and 
securing the religious liberties of the people, and of 
preventing those measures which he perceived were 
contemplated to remove many of the most holy and 
zealous preachers from their flocks. The following 
passage from his address to the king shows the efforts 
that had been made to preserve the Gospel ministry 
during the commonwealth, and his desire that, under 
the dominion of their rightful monarch, the same in- 
valuable privilege might be preserved. 

" I presumed to tell him (his majesty) that the peo- 
ple we spake for were such as were contented with an 
interest in heaven, and the liberty and advantages of the 
Gospel to promote it; and if this were taken from them, 
and they were deprived of their faithful pastors, and 
liberty of worshipping God, they would consider them- 
selves undone in this world, whatever plenty else they 
should enjoy; and the hearts of his most faithful sub- 
jects, who hoped for his help, would even be broi^en; 
and that we doubted not but his majesty desired to 
govern a people made happy by him, and not a broken- 
hearted people, that considered themselves undone by 
the loss of that which is dearer to them than all the 
riches of the world. And I presumed to tell him that 
the late usurpers that were over us, so well understood 
their own interest, that, to promote it, they had found 
this way of doing good to be the most efTectual means, 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 63 

and had placed and encouraged many thousand faith- 
ful ministers in the church, even such as detested 
their usurpation. And so far had they attained their 
ends hereby, that it was the principal means of their 
interest in the people, and the good opinion that any 
had conceived of them ; and those of them that had 
taken the contrary course, had thereby broken them- 
selves to pieces. Wherefore I humbly craved his ma- 
jesty's patience that we might have the freedom to re- 
quest of him that, as he was our lawful king, in whom 
all his people, save a few inconsiderable persons, were 
prepared to centre, as weary of their divisions, and 
glad of the satisfactory means of union in him, so he 
would be pleased to undertake this blessed work of 
promoting their holiness and concord ; for it was not 
faction or disobedience which we desired him to in- 
dulge. And that he would never suffer himself to be 
tempted to undo the good which Cromwell or any 
other had done, because they were usurpers that did 
it ; or discountenance a faithful ministry because his 
enemies had set them up. But that he would rather 
outgo them in doing good, and opposing and rejecting 
the ignorant and ungodly, of what opinion or party 
soever. For the people whose cause we recommended 
to him, had their eyes on him as the officer of God, 
to defend them in the possession of the helps of their 
salvation ; which, if he were pleased to vouchsafe 
them, their estates and lives would be cheerfully of- 
fered to his service." 

" The king gave us not only a free audience, but as 
gracious an answer as we could expect ; professing his 
gladness to hear our inclinations to agreement, and his 
resolution to do his part to bring us together; and that 
it must not be by bringing one party over to the other, 



64 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

but by abating somewhat on both sides, and meeting 
in the midway ; and that, if it were not accomplished, 
it should be of ourselves, and not ol him : nay, that he 
was resolved to see it brought to pass, and that he 
would draw us together himself: with some more to 
this purpose. Insomuch that old Mr. Ash burst out 
into tears with joy, and could not forbear expressing 
what gladness this promise of his majesty had put into 
his heart." 

Proposals of agreement were submitted to the king 
and his advisers, but without effect. Subsequently to 
this, Baxter was offered a bishopric by the lord chan- 
cellor; but this, for various reasons, he declined. He 
did not consider it " as a thing unlawful in itself," 
but he thought he " could better serve the church 
without it." In the letter in which he declines epis- 
copal honors, he begs of the lord chancellor that he 
might be allowed to preach to his old charge at Kid- 
derminster. He says : 

"When I had refused a bishopric, I did it on such 
reasons as offended not the lord chancellor ; and there- 
fore, instead of it, I presumed to crave his favor to re- 
store me to preach to my people at Kidderminster 
again, from whence I had been cast out, when many 
hundreds of others were ejected upon the restoration 
of all them that had been sequestered. It was but a 
vicarage ; and the vicar was a poor, unlearned, igno- 
rant, silly reader, that little understood what Chris- 
tianity and the articles of his creed did signify: but 
once a quarter he said something which he called a 
sermon, which made him the pity or laughter of the 
people. This man, being unable to preach himself, 
kept always a curate under him to preach. Before the 
wars, I had preached there only as a lecturer, and he 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 65 

was bound in a bond of £500 to pay me £60 per 
annum, and afterwards he was sequestered, as is be- 
fore sufficiently declared. My people were so dear to 
me, and I to them, that I would have been with them 
upon the lowest lawful terms. Some laughed at me 
for refusing a bishopric, and petitioning to be a read- 
ing vicar's curate. But I had little hopes of so good a 
condition, at least for any considerable time." 

His application, however, proved unsuccessful ; for 
arrangements could not be made between the patron 
and the chancellor respecting the removal of the old 
vicar, who retained the charge of four thousand souls, 
though utterly incompetent for his important duties, 
and Baxter was left without a charge. 

Though not permitted to return to his charge, he 
nevertheless exerted himself in various ways to pro- 
mote the glory of God and the good of souls. His at- 
tention was, at this period, drawn to the subject of 
missions among the North American Indians. Eliot, 
the " Apostle of the Indians," and his assistants, had 
effected much good among the roving tribes of Ame- 
rica, Cromwell had entered warmly into the cause, 
and ordered collections to be made in every parish 
for the propagation of the Gospel in those regions. 
Funds were raised, a society was formed and incor- 
porated, and much good was effected. At the " Resto- 
ration," some parlies, inimical to the truth, endeavor- 
ed to destroy the institution, and to appropriate the 
funds to other objects. Baxter, assisted by others, ex- 
erted himself to prevent tins spoliation ; and by his 
influence at court, succeeded in securing the property, 
and in restoring the society to its original design. 

For his exertions he received a letter of thanks from 
the Governor of New England, and another from the 
L. B. 6* 



66 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

venerable Eliot. The latter informs Baxter of his in- 
tention to translate the " Call to the Unconverted" in- 
to the Indian language, but waited for his permission, 
his counsel, and his prayers. To this letter Baxter re- 
plied. A few extracts from his reply will show the in- 
terest that both he and many others felt in the cause 
of missions in those troublous times. 

" Reverend and much honored brother, — Though 
our sins have separated us from the people of our love 
and care, and deprived us of all public liberty of preach- 
ing the Gospel of our Lord, I greatly rejoice in the 
liberty, help, and success which Christ has so long 
vouchsafed you in his work. There is no man on earth 
whose work I think more honorable than yours. To 
propagate the Gospel and kingdom of Christ in those 
dark parts of the world, is a better work than our ha- 
ting and devouring one another. There are many here 
that would be ambitious of being your fellow-laborers, 
but that they are informed you have access to no 
greater a number of the Indians than you yourself and 
your present assistants are able to instruct. An hono- 
rable gentleman, Mr. Robert Boyle, the governor of the 
corporation for your work, a man of great learning and 
worth, and of a very public universal mind, did motion 
to me a public collection, in all our churches, for the 
maintaining of such ministers as are willing to go 
hence to you, while they are learning the Indian lan- 
guages and laboring in the work, as also to transport 
them. But I find those backward that I have spoken 
to about it, partly suspecting it a design of those that 
would be rid of them ; (but if it would promote the 
work of God, this objection were too carnal to be re- 
garded by good men;) partly fearing that, when the 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 67 

money is gathered, the work may be frustrated by the 
alienation of it, but this I think they need not fear so 
far as to hinder any ; partly because they think there 
will be nothing considerable gathered, because the peo- 
ple Ihat are unwillingly divorced from their teachers 
will give nothing to send them farther from them, but 
specially because they think, on the aforesaid grounds, 
that there is no work for them to do if they were with 
you. There are many here, I conjecture, that would 
be glad to go any where, to Persians, Tartars, Indians, 
or any unbelieving nation, to propagate the Gospel, 
if they thought they could be serviceable ; but the de- 
fect of their languages is their great discouragement. 
The industry of the Jesuits and friars, and their suc- 
cesses in Congo, Japan, China, &c. shame us all, save 
you. I should be glad to learn from you how far your 
Indian tongue extends; how large or populous the 
country is that uses it, if it be known ; and whether it 
reach only to a few scattered neighbors, who cannot 
themselves convey their knowledge far because of 
other languages. We very much rejoice in your hap- 
py work, the translation of the Bible, and bless God 
that hath strengthened you to finish it. If any thing 
of mine may be honored to contribute in the least 
measure to your blessed work, I shall have great cause 
to be thankful to God, and wholly submit the altera- 
tion and use of it to your wisdom." 

The state of the heathen appears to have occupied 
the thoughts of Baxter through the whole course of 
his ministry. Numerous allusions and references to 
the subject are found in his writings. In the preface 
to his work entitled the " Reasons of the Christian 
Religion," he states that his desire to promote " the 
conversion of idolaters and infidels to God and the 



68 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

Christian faith," was one of the reasons which prompt 
ed him to write that work. " The doleful thought that 
five parts of the world were still heathens and Moham- 
medans, and that Christian princes and preachers did 
no more for their recovery," awakened the most pain- 
ful anxiety and distress in his mind. In his work, " How 
to do Good to Many," &c. he asks, " Is it not possible, 
at least, to help the poor ignorant Armenians, Greeks, 
Muscovites, and otlier Christians, who have no print- 
ing imong them, nor much preaching and knowledge ; 
ana for want of printing, have very few Bibles, even 
for their churches or ministers? Could nothing be 
done to get some Bibles, catechisms, and practical 
books printed in their own tongues, and given among 
them? I know there is difficulty in the way; but 
money, and willingness, and diligence, might do some- 
th. ng. Might not something be done in other planta- 
tions, as well as in New-England, towards the conver- 
sion of the natives there? Might not some skillful, 
zealous preachers be sent thither, who would promote 
serious piety among those of the English that have too 
little of it, teach the natives the Gospel, and our plant- 
ers how to behave themselves so as to win souls to 
Christ?" 

How powerfully affecting, and yet how truly appli- 
cable, even at the present hour, is the following pas- 
sage, contained in his life I — " it would make a believ- 
er's heart bleed, if any thing in the world will do it, 
to tiiink that five parts in six of the world are still 
hcdlhens, Moliamniedans, and infidels, and that the 
wicked lives of Christians, with fopperies, ignorance, 
and divisions, form the great impediment to their con- 
version ! to read and hear travelers and merchants 
tell that the Banians, and other heathens in Hiadostan, 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 69 

Cambaia, and many other lands, and the Mohamme- 
dans adjoining to the Greeks, and the Abyssinians, 
&c. do commonly fly from Cliristianity, and say, 'God 
will not save us if we be Christians, for Christians are 
drunkards, and proud, and deceivers,' &c. and that 
the Mohammedans and many heathens have more, 
both of devotion and honesty, than nominal Christians 
that live among them ! O wretched men, calling them- 
selves after the name of Christ ! that are not content 
to damn themselves, but thus lay stumbling-blocks 
before the world ! It were better for these men that 
they had never been born ! 

At the close of his life, and on the near approach of 
eternity, his mind was deeply interested on this im- 
portant subject. The unbounded benevolence of his 
heart is poured forth in the following extract from his 
solemn review of his own character, made in his last 
days: 

" My soul is much more afflicted with the thoughts 
of the miserable world, and more drawn out in desire 
of their conversion, than heretofore. I was wont to 
look but little farther than England in my prayers, as 
not considering the state of the rest of the world : or, 
if I prayed for the conversion of the Jews, that was 
almost all. But now. as I better understand the case 
of the world, and the method of the Lord's prayer, so 
there is nothing that hes so heavy upon my heart as 
the thought of the miserable nations of the earth. It 
is the most astonishing part of all God's providence 
to me, that he so far forsakes almost all the world, and 
confines his special favor to so few; that so small a 
part of the world has the profession of Christianity, 
in comparison of heathens, Mohammedans, and infi- 
aels ! and that, among professed Christians, there are 



70 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

SO few that are saved from gross delusions, and have 
any competent knowledge ; and tliat among those 
there are so few that are seriously religious, and truly 
set their hearts on heaven. I cannot be affected so 
much with the calamities of my own relations, or of 
the land of my nativity, as v/ith the case of the hea- 
then, Mohammedan, and ignorant nations of the earth. 
No part of my prayers is so deeply serious as that for 
the conversion of the infidel and ungodly world, that 
God's name may be sanctified, and liis kingdom come, 
and his will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Nor 
was I ever before so sensible what a plague the divi- 
sion of languages was, which hinders our speaking to 
them for their conversion ; nor what a great sin ty- 
ranny is, which keeps out the Gospel from most of 
the nations of the world. Could we but go among 
Tartars, Turks, and heathens, and speak their lan- 
guage, I should be but little troubled for the silencing 
of eighteen hundred ministers at once in England, nor 
for all the rest that were cast out here, and in Scot- 
land and Ireland. There being no employment in the 
world so desirable in my eyes, as to labor for the win- 
ning of such miserable souls, which makes me greatly 
honor Mr. John Eliot, the apostle of the Indians in 
New-England, and whoever else have labored in such 
work." 

Baxter almost despaired of the conversion of the 
world. The obstacles to missionary enterprise were 
at that time insurmountable. " He that surveys the 
present state of the earth," writes Baxter to his friend 
Eliot, " and considers that scarcely a sixth part is 
Christian, and how small a part of them have much 
of the power of godhness, will be ready to think that 
Christ has called almost all his chosen, and is ready 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 71 

to forsake the earth, rather than that he intends us 
such blessed days as we desire." But " what hath 
God wrought !" How great the change in the state of 
religion, both at home and abroad, since the days of 
Baxter! Persecution has fled; religion has revived; 
the missionary spirit has been enkindled ; prayer has 
been offered ; money has been contributed ; commerce 
has presented facilities for introducing the Gospel into 
all parts of the earth ; wide and effectual doors have 
been opened ; missionaries have gone forth to the help 
of the Lord against the mighty, and great success has 
attended their labors : so that we are evidently ap- 
proaching nearer to the period when the proclamation 
shall be made, " The kingdoms of this world are be- 
come the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ; 
and he shall reign for ever and ever." 

About this period the celebrated " Savoy Confer- 
ence" was held. The object was to effect a reconcilia- 
tion between the different religious parties, that they 
might be united in one common profession of Chris- 
tianity. At this conference Baxter took a prominent 
part. He was sincerely desirous for the peace of the 
church, and that an accommodation should ensue. 
For this purpose he submitted various propositions, 
but without effect : and, after some weeks' delibera- 
tion, the conference was broken up, without the least 
hope or possibility, under existing eircumstances, of 
reconciliation. Baxter was charged by his antagonists 
with " speaking too boldly, and too long ;" but this he 
accounted not a crime, but a virtue. " I thought it," 
says he, " a cause I could cheerfully suffer for ; and 
should as willingly be a martyr for charity as for faith." 

This was the last public and authorized attempt to 
promote peace and unity by argument and persuasion. 



72 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

Thenceforward other measures were tried to effect so 
desirable an object, and, most unhappily, the diver- 
gence of the parlies became greater than ever. 

From the termination of the "Savoy Conference," 
the case of the dissidents became more trying and per- 
plexing. They were calumniated and charged with 
preaching sedition, or with forming plots against the 
government. Baxter, whose loyalty was unimpeach- 
able, and whose ruling passion was a desire for peace, 
whose very soul was love, appears to have been parti- 
cularly marked as an object for the shafts of calumny. 
He says : " So vehement was the endeavor in court, 
city, and country, to make me contemptible and odi- 
ous, as if the authors had thought that the safety either 
of church or stale did lie upon it, and all wouM have 
been safe if I were but vilified and hated. So that any 
stranger that had but heard and seen all this, would 
have asked, What monster of villany is this man? and 
what is the wickedness that he is guilty of? Yet was 
I never questioned to this day before a magistrate. 
Nor do my adversaries charge me with any personal 
wrong to them ; nor did they ever accuse me of any 
heresy, nor much contemn my judgment, nor ever ac- 
cuse my life, but for preaching where another had been 
sequestered that was an insufficient reader, and for 
preaching to the soldiers of the parliament j though 
none of them knew my business there, nor the service 
that I did them. These are all the crimes, besides my 
writings, that I ever knew they charged my life with." 

" Though no one accused me of any thing, nor spake 
a word to me of it, being (they knew I had long been) 
near a hundred miles off, yet did they defame me all 
over the land, as guilty of a plot ; and when men were 
^aken up and sent to prison, in other countries, it was 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 73 

said to be for Baxter's plot : so easy was it, and so ne- 
cessary a thing it seemed then, to cast reproach upon 
my name." 

During the two years of his residence in London, 
previous to his final ejectment, Baxter preached in va- 
rious places, as opportunities presented themselves. 

He says : '^ Being removed from my ancient flock 
in Worcestershire, and yet being uncertain whether I 
might return to them or not, I refused to take any 
other charge, but preached up and down London, for 
nothing, according as I was invited. When I had done 
thus above a year, I thought a fixed place was better, 
and so I joined with Dr. Bates, at St. Dunstan's in the 
West, in Fleet-street, and preached once a week, for 
which the people allowed me some maintenance. Be- 
fore this time I scarcely ever preached a sermon in 
the city. 

" The congregations being crowded, was that which 
provoked envy to accuse me ; and one day the crowd 
drove me from my place. In the midst of a sermon at 
Dunstan's church, a little lime and dust, and perhaps 
a piece of a brick or two, fell down in the steeple or 
belfry, which alarmed the congregation with the idea 
that the steeple and church were falling ; and indeed, 
in their confusion and haste to get away, the noise of 
the feet in the galleries sounded like the falling of the 
stones. I sat still in the pulpit, seeing and pitying their 
terror ; and. as soon as I could be heard, I entreated 
their silence, and went on. The people were no sooner 
quieted, and got in again, and the auditory composed, 
but a wainscot bench, near the communion-table, broke 
with the weight of those who stood upon it; the nois" 
renewed the fear, and they were worse disordered tnu.: 
before ; so that one old woman was heard, at the churcn 

L. B. 7 



74 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

door, asking forgiveness of God for not taking the first 
warning, aiid promising, if God would deliver her this 
once, she would take heed of coming thither again. 
When they were again quieted I went on. But tne 
church having before an ill name, as very old, and '*ot- 
ten, and dangerous, it was agreed to pull down all the 
roof and repair the building, which is now much more 
commodious. 

" While these repairs were made I preached out my 
quarter at Bride's church, in the other end of Fleet- 
street; where the common prayer being used by the 
curate before sermon, I occasioned abundance to be 
at common prayer, who before avoided it. And yet 
accusations against me still continued. 

" On the week days, Mr. Ashurst, with about twenty 
more citizens, desired me to preach a lecture in Milk- 
street, for which they allowed me forty pounds per an- 
num, which I continued near a year, till we were all 
silenced. And at the same time I preached once every 
Lord's day at Blackfriars, where Mr. Gibbons, a judi- 
cious man, was minister. In Milk-street I took money, 
because it came not from the parishioners, but stran- 
gers, and so was no wrong to the minister, Mr. Vincent, 
a very holy, blameless man. But at Blackfriars I never 
look a penny, because it was the parishioners who 
called me, who would else be less able and ready to 
help their worthy pastor, who went to God by a con- 
sumption, a little after he was silenced. At these two 
churches I ended the course of my public ministry, 
unless God cause an undeserved resurrection." 

" Shortly after our disputation at the Savoy, I went 
to Rickmansworth, in Hertfordshire, and preached 
there but once, upon Matt. 22 : 12, ' And he was speech- 
less ;' Vv'here I spake not a word that was any nearer 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 75 

kin to sedition, or that had any greater tendency to 
provoke them, than by showing ' that wicked men, 
and the refusers of grace, however they may now have 
many things to say to excuse their sins, will at last be 
speechless before God." Yet did the bishop of Wor- 
cester tell me, when he silenced me, that the bishop 
of London had showed him letters from one of the 
hearers, assuring him that I preached seditiously : so 
little security was any man's innocency to his reputa- 
tion, if he had but one auditor that desired to get fa- 
vor by accusing him. 

" Shortly after my return to London I went into 
Worcestershire, to try whether it were possible to have 
any honest terms from the reading vicar there, that I 
might preach to my former flock ; but when I had 
preached twice or thrice, he denied me liberty to preach 
any more. I offered him to take my lecture, which he 
was bound to allow me, under a bond of five hundred 
pounds, but he refused it. I next offered him to be his 
curate, and he refused it. I next offered him to preach 
for nothing, and he refused it. And lastly, I desired 
leave but once to administer the Lord's supper to the 
people, and preach my farewell sermon to them, but 
he would not consent. At last I understood that he was 
directed by his superiors to do what he did. But Mr. 
Baldwin, an able preacher whom I left there, was yet 
permitted. 

" At that time, my aged father lying in great pain 
of the stone and strangury, I went to visit him, twen- 
ty miles further. And while I was there Mr. Baldwin 
came to me, and told me that he also was forbidden to 
preach. We both returned to Kidderminster." 

" Having parted with my dear flock, I need not say 
with mutual tears, I left Mr. Baldwin to live privately 



76 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

among them, and oversee them in my stead, and visit 
them from house to iiouse; advising them, notwith- 
standing all the injuries tiiey had received, and all the 
failings of the ministers that preached to them, and 
the defects of the present way of worship, that yi?t they 
should keep to the public assemblies, and make use of 
such helps as might be had in public, togethei with 
their private helps." 

The great crisis, w^hich was foreseen by many, had 
now arrived. The parliamentary attempt to promote 
ecclesiastical peace, by the " Act of Uniformity," de- 
manding an oath of absolute subjection to every requi- 
sition of the church, ended In the ejectment of two 
thousand of the best and holiest ministers in the land 
from their livings and labors. Baxter determined on 
not taking the oath, and hence relinquished public 
preaching as soon as the act was passed, and before it 
came into operation. His reason for so doing, he states 
to be, that as his example was looked to by many 
throughout tlie country, it might be known that he 
could not conform. 

In the earliev period of his ministry Baxter had re- 
solved not to enter into the married state, that he might 
pursue his pastoral and ministerial labors with less 
anxiety and interruption. After his ejectment, how- 
ever, having no public charge, and seeing little pros- 
pect of ever being able to resume his ministerial en- 
gagements, he deemed himself at liberty, and thai ii 
would conduce to his comfort, to be united in the bonds 
of matrimony. He married Miss Charlton, a lady who, 
though much younger than himself, proved to be in 
every respect a suitable partner for this eminent saint. 
His marriage excited much curiosity and remark 
throughout the kingdom ; and " I think," he observes, 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 77 

" the king's marriage was scarce more talked of than 
mine." He and his wife lived a very unsettled life; 
being obliged, on account of persecutions, frequently 
to remove from one place of residence to another. 

He says : " Having lived three years and more in 
London since I left Kidderminster, but only three 
quarters of a year since my marriage, and finding it 
neither agree with my health or studies, the one being 
brought very low, and the other interrupted, and all 
public service being at an end, I betook myself to live 
in the country, at Acton, that I might set myself to 
writing, and do what service I could for posterity, and 
live, as much as possibly I could, out of the world. 
Thither I came, 1663, July 14, where I followed my 
studies privately in quietness, and went every Lord's 
day to the public assembly, when there was any preach- 
ing or catechising, and spent the rest of the day with 
my family, and a few poor neighbors that came in ; 
spending now and then a day in London. And the 
next year, 1664, I had the company of divers godly 
faithful friends that tabled with me in summer, with 
whom I solaced myself with much content."' 

"On March 26, being the Lord's day, 1665, as I was 
preacliing in a private house, where we received the 
Lord's supper, a buHct came in at the window among 
us, an^^. passed by me, and narrowly missed the head 
of a sister-in-law of mine that was there, and hurt 
none of us ; and we could never discover M'hence it 
came. 

"In June following, an ancient gentlewoman, with 
her sons and daughter, c?.me four miles in her coach, 
to hear me preach in my family, as out of speciil re- 
spect to me. It happened that, contrary to o;ir cus- 
loir, we let her knock long nt the door, and diJ not 

L B. 7* 



78 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

open It; and so a second time, when she had gone 
away and came again; and the third time she came, 
we had ended. She was so earnest to know when she 
might come again to hear me, that I appointed her a 
time. But before she came, I had secret intelligence, 
from one that was nigh her, that she came with a 
heart exceeding full of malice, resolving, if possible, 
to do me what mischief she could by accusation ; and 
so that danger was avoided.*' 

The " plague of London " now burst forth with tre- 
mendous fury, on which Baxter thus remarks: 

'•And now, after all the breaches on the churches, 
the ejection of the ministers, and impenitency under 
all, wars, and plague, and danger of famine began all 
at once on us. War with the Hollanders, which yet 
continues; and the driest winter, spring, and summer 
that ever man alive knew, or our forefathers men- 
tion of late ages; so that the grounds were burnt, like 
the highways, where the cattle should have fed ! The 
meadow grounds, where I lived, bare but four loads of 
hay, which before bare forty. The plague has seized 
on the most famous and most excellent city in Chris- 
tendom, and at this time eight thousand die of all 
diseases in a week. It has scattered and consumed 
the inhabitants, multitudes being dead and fled. The 
calamities and cries of the diseased and impoverished 
are not to be conceived by those that are absent from 
them I Every man is a terror to his neighbor and him- 
self ; for God, for our sins, is a terror to us all. O ! how 
is London, the place which God has honored with his 
Gospel above all the places of the earth, laid in low 
horrors, and wasted almost to desolation by the wrath 
of God, whom England hath contemned ; and a God- 
hating generation are consumed in their sins, and the 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 79 

righteous are also taken away, as from greater evii yet 
to come." 

" The number that died in London alone was about 
a hundred thousand. The richer sort removing out of 
the city, the greatest blow fell on the poor. At first, so 
few of the most religious were taken away, that, ac- 
cording to the mode of too many such, they began to 
be puffed up, and boast of the great difference which 
God made ; but quickly after, they all fell alike. Yet 
not many pious ministers were taken away : I remem- 
ber but three, who were all of my own acquaintance. 

" It is scarcely possible for people that live in a time 
of health and security, to apprehend the dreadfulness 
of that pestilence ! How fearful people were, thirty 
or forty, if not a hundred miles from London, of any 
thing that they bought from any mercer's or draper's 
shop ! or of any goods that were brought to them ! or 
of any person that came to their houses ! How they 
would shut their doors against their friends ! and if a 
man passed over the fields, how one would avoid an- 
other, as we did in the time of wars ; and how every 
man was a terror to another! O how sinfully un- 
thankful are we for our quiet societies, habitations, 
and health !" 

Many of the ejected ministers seized the opportunity 
of preaching in the neglected or deserted pulpits, and 
in the public places of resort, to the terror-stricken in- 
habitants of London, and blessed results followed, 
" Those heard them one day often, that were sick the 
next, and quickly died. The face of death so awakened 
both preachers and hearers, that preachers exceeded 
themselves in fervent preaching, and the people crowd- 
ed constantly to hear them ; and all was done with 
such great seriousness that, through the blessing of 



30 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

God, many were converted from their carelessness, 
impeniiency, and youthful lusts and vanities; and re- 
ligion took such a hold on the people's hearts as could 
never afterwards be loosed." 

When the plague reached Acton, in July, Mr. Bax- 
ter retired to Hampden, in Bucks, where he continued 
with his friend .Mr. Hampden till tiie following March. 
The plague, he says, '• having ceased on March Isi fol- 
lowing, I returned home, and found the churchyard 
like a ploughed field with graves, and many of my 
neiglibors dead ; but my house, near the churchyard, 
uninfected, and that part of my family which I left 
there, all safe, through the great mercy of God." 

Scarcely had the plague ceased its ravages before 
the great fire commenced its destructive career in Lon- 
don. Churches in great numbers were destroyed in the 
general conflagration. The zealous, though silenced 
watchmen, ventured, amid tlie ashes of a ruined city, 
to urge the inhabitants to flee from the '• wraih to 
come," and to seek, in their impoverished condition, 
'• the unsearchable riches of Christ." 

The distress occasioned by these calamities was 
great. " Many thousands were cast into Jitter want and 
beggary, and many thousands of the formerly rich 
were disabled from relieving them." To the friends of 
Christ in London, the silenced ministers in the coun- 
try had been accustomed to look for assistance in their 
distresses. By these providences their resources were 
in a measure dried up. But, though enduring dread- 
ful privations, few, if any, were suffered to perish 
through want. Baxter says : 

'• Whilst I was living at Acton, as loni? as the act 
against conventicles was in force, tliouah I preached 
to my family, few of the town came to hear me, pan- 



LIFE OF BAXTER, 81 

ly because they thought it would endanger me, and 
partly for fear of suffering themselves, but especially 
because they were an ignorant poor people, and had 
no appetite for such things. But when the act was 
expired, there came so many that I wanted room ; and 
when once they had come and heard, they afterwards 
came constantly ; insomuch that in a little time there 
was a great number of them that seemed very serious- 
ly affected with the tilings they heard; and almost all 
the town, besides multitudes from Brentford and the 
neighboring places, came." 

He attended the services of the church, and between 
the interval of service preached in his own liouse to 
as many as chose to come. This gave umbrage to the 
minister. " It pleased the parson," says Baxter, "that 
I came to church, and brought others Avith me ; but 
he was not able to bear the sight of people's crowding 
into my house, though they heard him also ; so that, 
though he spoke kindly to me, and we lived in seem- 
ing love and peace while he was there, yet he could 
not long endure it. And when I had brought the peo- 
ple to church to hear him, he would fall upon them 
with groundless reproaches, as if he had done it pur- 
posely to drive them away; and yet thought that my 
preaching to them, because it was in a private house, 
did all the mischief, though he never accused me of 
any thing that I spake. For I preached nothing but 
Christianity and submission to our superiors, faith, re- 
pentance, hope, love, humility, self-denial, meekness, 
patience, and obedience." 

During his residence at Acton, Baxter became ac- 
quainted with Lord Chief Justice Hale, who occupied 
the house adjoining his own. With his simplicity, in- 
tegrity, piety, and learning, he was delighted and 



82 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

charmed. He denominates him " the pillar of justice, 
the refuge of the subject who feared oppression, and 
one of the greatest honors of his majesty's govern- 
ment." His lordship, too, appears to have been equal- 
ly interested in the character of his neighbor. His 
avowed esteem and respect for ihe despised noncon- 
formist was a means of encouraging and strengthen- 
ing the hands of Baxter. " When the people crowded 
in and out of my house to hear, he openly showed me 
such great respect before them at tie door, and never 
spake a word against it, as was no small encourage- 
ment to the common people to go on ; though the 
other sort muttered that a judge should seem so far to 
countenance that which they took to be against the 
law." 



CHAPTER V. 

HIS PERSECUTIONS, TRIAL, AND DEATH. 

At length Baxter's preaching at Acton could no 
longer be connived at. Information was laid against 
him, and a warrant was issued for his apprehension. 
He was taken before two justices of the peace. "When 
I came," he writes, "they shut out all persons from 
the room, and would not give leave for any one per- 
son, no, not their own clerk or servant, or the consta- 
ble, to hear a word that was said between us. Then 
ihey told me that I was convicted of keeping conven- 
ticles contrary to law, and so they would tender me 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 83 

the Oxford oath. I desired my accusers might come 
face to face, and that I might see and speak with the 
witnesses who testified that I kept conventicles con- 
trary to the law, which I denied, as far as I under- 
stood law ; but they would not grant it. I pressed tliat 
I might speak in the hearing of some witnesses, and 
not in secret ; for I supposed that they were my judges, 
and that their presence and business made tlie place 
a place of judicature, where none should be excluded, 
or at least some should be admitted. But I could not 
prevail. Had I resolved on silence, they were resolved 
to proceed; and I thought a Christian should rather 
submit to violence, and give place to injuries, than 
stand upon his right, when it will give others occasion 
to account him obstinate. I asked them whether I 
might freely speak for myself, and they said yea ; but, 
when I began to speak, still interrupted me, and put 
me by. But, with much importunity, I got them once 
to hear me, while I told them why I took not my 
meeting to be contrary to law, and why the Oxford 
act concerned me not, and they had no power to put 
that oath on me by the act ; but all the answer I could 
get was, 'That they were satisfied of what they did.' 
And when, among other reasonings against their 
course, I told them, though Christ's ministers had, in 
many ages, been men esteemed and used as we now 
are, and their afflicters had insulted over them, the 
providence of God had still so ordered it that the 
names and memory of their silencers and afflicters 
have been left to posterity for a reproach, insomuch 
that I wondered that those who fear not God, and 
care not for their own or the people's souls, should 
yet be so careless of their fame, when honor seems so 
great a matter with them. To which Ross answered, 



84 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

that he desired no greater honor to his name, than 
that it should be remembered of him that he did this 
against me, and such as I, which he was doing." 

The result of this interview was, that Baxter was 
fully committed, for six months, to the New Prison, 
Clerkenwell. He begged that his liberty might b? 
granted till the following Monday ; but as he would 
not promise not to preach on the intervening Lord's 
day, his request was denied. 

The inhabitants of Acton were grieved at the loss of 
their neighbor, and the more so, as the incumbent of 
the parish was the means of his imprisonment. " The 
whole town of Acton were greatly exasperated against 
the dean when I was going to prison, insomuch that 
ever since they abhorred him as a selfish persecutor. 
Nor could he devise to do more to hinder the success 
of his (seldom) preaching there. But it was his own 
choice: 'Let them hate me, so they fear me.' And so 
1 finally left that place, being grieved most that Satan 
had prevailed to stop the poor people in such hopeful 
beginnings of a common reformation, and that I was 
to be deprived of the exceeding grateful neighborhood 
of the Lord Chief Justice Hale, who could scarce re- 
frain tears when he heard of the first warrant for my 
appearance. 

"My imprisonment was, at present, no great suf- 
fering to me, for I had an honest jailer, who showed 
me all the kindness he could. I had a large room, 
and the liberty of walking in a fair garden; and my 
wife was never so cheerful a companion to me as in 
prison, and was very much against my seeking to be 
released ; and she had brought so many necessaries, 
that we kept house as contentedly and as comfortably 
as at home, though in a narrower room ; and I had 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 85 

tlie sight of more of my friends in a day, than I had 
at home in lialf a year." 

Efforts were made, by his friends, to procure his re- 
lease, which, in consequence of some informalities in 
his commitment, were successful. His reflections on 
his imprisonment show his piety and submission. 

"While I stayed in prison, I saw somewhat to 
blame myself for, and somewhat to wonder at others 
for, and somewhat to advise my visitors about. 

" I blamed myself that I was no more sensible of 
the spiritual part of my affliction; such as the inter- 
ruption of my work among the poor people from whom 
I was removed, and the advantage Satan had got 
against them, and the loss of my own public liberty, 
for worshiping in the assemblies of God's people. 

"I marvelled at some who suffered more than I, as 
Mr. Rutherford, when he M'as confined to Aberdeen, 
that their sufferings occasioned them such great joys 
as they express; which surely was from the free grace 
of God, to encourage others by their example, and not 
that their own impatience made them need it much 
more than at other times. For surely so small a suf- 
fering needs not a quarter of the patience whicli 
many poor nonconforming ministers, and thousands 
of others need, that are at liberty; whose own houses, 
through poverty, are made far worse to them than my 
prison was to me. 

"I found reason to entreat my Acton neighbors 
not to let their passion against their parson, on my 
account, hinder them from a due regard to his doc- 
trine, nor from any of the duty which they owed him ; 
and to blame some who aggravated my sufferings, 
and to tell them that I had no mind to fancy myself 
hurt before I felt it. I used, at home to confine mv- 

L. B. 8 



86 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

self voluntarily almost as much. I had ten-fold more 
public life here, and converse with my friends, than 
I had at home. If I had been to take lodgings at Lon- 
don for six months, and had not known that this 
had been a prison, and had knocked at the door and 
asked for rooms, I should as soon have taken this 
uhich I was put into, as most in town, save only for 
the interruption of my sleep. 

" I found cause to desire of my brethren, that, when 
they suflfered, they wouid remember that the design of 
Satan was more against their souls than their bodies ; 
that it was not the least of his hopes to destroy the 
love due to those by whom they suffered ; to render 
our superiors odious to the people; and to make us 
take such a poor suffering as this for a sign of true 
grace, instead of faith, hope, love, mortification, and a 
heavenly mind ; and that the loss of one grain of love 
was worse than a long imprisonment. Also that it 
much more concerned us to be sure that we deserve 
not suffering, than that we be delivered from it ; and 
to see that we wrong not our superiors, than that they 
wrong not us; seeing we are not near so much hurt 
by their severities as we are by our sins. Some told 
me that they hoped this would make me stand a little 
further from the prelates and their worship than I had 
done. To whom I answered, that I wondered that 
they should think that a prison should change my 
judgment. I rather thought now it was my duty to 
set a stricter watch upon my passions, lest they should 
pervert my judgment, and carry me into extremes in 
opposition to tliose who afflicted me. If passion made 
me lose my love, or my religion, the loss would be 
ray own. And truth did not change because I was 
in a jail." 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 87 

His time was now chiefly occupied in writing and 
publisiiing various works on controversial and experi- 
mental divinity, and in making some attempts to pro- 
cure a union between the Presbyterians and Indepen- 
dents. He frequently conversed and corresponded 
Willi Dr. Owen on this subject. Owen requested Bax- 
ter to draw up a scheme of agreement. Tiiis scheme 
Owen attentively considered, but could not adopt. 
Baxter's attempts to unite all parties satisfied none. 

Baxter, with a few others of tlie nonconformists, de- 
fended tlie practice of occasional attendance and com- 
munion in the parish churches where the Gospel was 
preached. It was, in consequence, currently reported 
at this time, that he had actually conformed. He was 
offered preferment in Scotland by the king. A mitre, 
a professor's gown, or a surplice, was presented to his 
choice. But he declined accepting his majesty's offer. 
His refusal is contained in his letter to the Earl of Lau- 
derdale, through whom the offer was presented. 

"My Lord, — Being deeply sensible of your lord- 
ship's favors, and in special of your liberal offers for 
my entertainment in Scotland, I humbly return yon 
my very hearty thanks. But these considerations for- 
bid me to entertain any hopes or further thoughts of 
such a remove : 

" 1. The experience of my great weakness and de- 
cay of strength, and particularly of this last winter's 
pain, and how much worse I am in winter than in 
summer, doth fully persuade me that I should live but 
a little while in Scotland, and that in a disabled, use- 
less condition, rather keeping my bed than the pulpit. 

"2. I am engaged in writing a book, which, if I 
could hope to live to finish, is almost all the service 



Sb LIFE OF BAXTER. 

that I expect to do God and his church more in the 
^vorld — a Latin Metliodus Theologiae ; and I can hard- 
ly hope to live so long, it requiring near a year's labor 
more. Now, if I should go and spend that one half 
year, or year, which should finish that work, in tra- 
vel, and the trouble of such a removal, and then leave 
my intended work undone, it would disappoint me of 
the ends of my life ; for I live only for work, and there- 
fore should remove only for work, and not for wealth 
and honor, if ever I remove. 

" 3. If I were there, all that I could hope for were 
liberty to preach the Gospel of salvation, and especially 
in some university among young scholars. But I hear 
that you have enough already for this work, that are 
like to do it better than I can. 

" 4. I have a family, and in it a mother-in-law, eighty 
years of age, of honorable extraction and great worth, 
whom I must not neglect, and who cannot travel. And 
it is to such a one as I, so great a business to remove 
a family, and all our goods and books so far, as deters 
me from thinking of it, having paid so dear for remo- 
vals these eight years as I have done, and being but 
3'esterday settled in a house which I have newly taken, 
and that with great trouble and loss of time. 

"All this concurs to deprive me of this benefit of 
your lordship's favor. But, my lord, there are other 
fruits of it, which I am not altogether hopeless of re- 
ceiving. When I am commanded to pray for kings, 
and all in authority, I am allowed the ambition of this 
preferment, which is all that ever I aspired after : ' to 
live a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and 
honesty.' 

" I am weary of the noise of contentious revilers, 
and have often had thoughts to go into a foreign land. 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 89 

if I could find any, where I might have a healtliful air 
and quietness, that I might but live and die in peace. 
When I sit in a corner, and meddle with nobody, and 
hope the world will forget that i am alive, court, city, 
and country is still filled with clamors against me; 
and when a preacher wants preferment, his way is to 
preach or write a book against the nonconformists, 
and me by name. So that the press and pulpits of 
some, utter bloody invectives against myself, as if my 
peace were inconsistent with the kingdom's happiness. 
And never did my eyes read such impudent untruths, 
in matter of fact, as these writings contain; and they 
cry out for answers and reasons of m}" nonconformi- 
ty, while they know the law forbids me to answer 
them unlicensed. I expect not that any favor or jus- 
tice of my superiors should cure any of this. But a 
few things I would desire : 

" 1. If I might but be heard to speak for myself, be- 
fore I be judged by them, and such things be believed. 
For to contemn the judgment of my rulers is to dis- 
honor them. 

'• 2. If I might live quietly to follow my private study, 
and might once again have the use of my books, which 
J have not seen these ten years, still paying for a room 
in which they stand at Kidderminster, where they are 
eaten with worms and rats, having no security for my 
quiet abode in any place long enough to encourage me 
to snnd for them. And if I might have the liberty that 
every beggar has, to travel from town to town ; I mean, 
but to London, to oversee the press, when any thing 
of mine is licensed for it. And, 

"3. If I be sent to Newgate for preaching Christ's 
Gospel, (for I dare not sacrilegiously renounce my call- 
ing, to which I am consecrated,) that I may have the fa- 

L. B. 8* 



90 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

vor of a belter prison, where I may but walk and write. 

" These 1 should lake as very great favors, and ac- 
knowledge your lordship my benefactor, if you pro- 
cure them. For I will not so much injure you as to 
desire, or my reason as to expect, any greater things; 
no, not the benefit of the law. 1 think I broke no law 
in any of the preachings which I am accused of; and 
I most confidently think that no law imposes on me 
the Oxford oath, any more than any conformable mi- 
nister; and lam past doubting the present mittimus 
for my imprisonment is quite without law. But if 
the justices think otherwise now, or al any time, I 
know no remedy. I have yet a license to preach pub- 
licly in London diocess, under the archbishop's own 
hand and seal, which is yet valid for occasional ser- 
mons, though not for lectures or cures; but I dare not 
use it, because it is in the bishop's power to recall it. 
Would but the bishop, who, one would think, should 
not be against the preaching of the Gospel, not recall 
my license, I could preach occasional sermons, which 
would absolve my conscience from all obligations to 
private preaching. For it is not maintenance that 1 ex- 
pect; I have never received a farthing for my preach- 
ing, to my knowledge, since May 1, 1662. I thank God 
I have food and raiment without being chargeable to 
any man, which is all that I desire, had I but leave to 
preach for nothing, and that only where there is a no- 
torious necessity. I humbly crave your lordship's par- 
don for this tediousness, and again return you my very 
great thanks for your great favors; remaining, &c. 

" June 24, 1670. Richard Baxter." 

He says : " On October 11, 1672, I fell into a dan- 
gerous fit of sicknessj which God, in his wonted mer- 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 91 

cy, in time so far removed as to return me to some 
capacity of service. 

" I had till now forborne, for several reasons, to seek 
a license for preaching from the king, upon the tole- 
ration. But when all others had taken theirs, and 
were settled in London and other places, as they could 
get opportunity, I delayed no longer, but sent to seek 
one on condition I might have it without the title of 
Ind( pendent, Presbyterian, or any other party, but 
only as a nonconformist. And before I sent. Sir Thomas 
Player, chamberlain of London, had procured it me 
without my knowledge or endeavor. I had sought 
none hitherto. 

" I. Because I was unwilling to be, or seem any 
cause of that way of liberty, if a better might have 
been had, and therefore would not meddle in it. 

" 2. I lived ten miles from London, and thought it 
not just to come and set up a congregation there, till 
the ministers had fully settled theirs, who had borne 
the burden there in the times of the raging plague and 
fire, and other calamities, lest I should draw away 
any of their auditors, and hinder their maintenance. 

" 3. I perceived that no one, that ever I heard of 
till mine, could get a license, unless he would be en- 
titled in it, a Presbyterian, Independent, or of some 
sect. 

" The 19lh of November was the first day, after ten 
years' silence, that I preached in a tolerated public 
assembly, though not yet tolerated in any consecpated 
church, but only, against law, in my own house. 

" Some merchants set up a Tuesday's lecture in 
London, to be kept by six ministers at Pinner's Hall, 
allowing them twenty shillings a piece each sermon, 
of whom they chose me to be one." 



92 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

" January 24, 1672-3, I Degaii a Friday lecture at 
Mr. Turner's church in New-street, near Fetter-lane, 
with great convenience and God's encouraging bless- 
ing ; but I never took a penny of money for it of any 
one. And on the Lord's days I had no congregation 
to preach to, but occasionally to any that desire me, 
being unwilling to set up a church and become the 
pastor of any, or take maintenance, in this distracted 
and unsettled way, unless further changes shall ntani- 
fest it to be my duty. Nor did I ever yet administer 
the Lord's supper to any one person, but to my old 
flock at Kidderminster," 

"On February 20th I took my house in Bloomsbury, 
in London, and removed thither with my family; God 
having mercifully given me three years' great peace 
among quiet neighbors at Totteridge, and much more 
health and ease than I expected, and some opportuni- 
ty to serve him." 

In this situation he continued for some time, em- 
ploying his flying pen and his unwearied efforts to pro- 
mote the peace of the churches and to instruct and 
bless mankind. In April, 1674, he writes, " God has 
so much increased my languishing, and laid me so 
low, that I have reason to think that my time on earth 
will not be long. And O how good has the will of God 
proved hitherto to me ! And will it not be best at last? 
Experience causes me to say to his praise, ' Great 
peace have they that love his law, and nothing shall 
offend them ;' and though my flesh and heart fail, God 
is the rock of my heart and my portion for ever. 

" At this time came out my book called 'The Poor 
Man's Family Book,' which the remembrance of the 
great use of Mr. Dent's 'Plain Man's Pathway to 
Heaven,' now laid by, occasioned me to write for 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 93 

poor country families, who cannot buy or read many 
books." 

Anxiously bent on doing good, and encouraged by 
the reception and success liis " Poor Man's Family 
Book" met with, he prepared several other works for 
the promotion and increase of family religion. He 
justly beUeved that domestic piety was of the utmost 
importance for the maintenance and progress of Chris- 
tianity. To promote '' household religion " he employ- 
ed all his energies while at Kidderminster. In his "Re 
formed Pastor," he urges ministers seriously to con 
sider the subject. He says : "The life of religion, and 
the welfare and glory, both of the church and state, 
depend much on family government and duty. If we 
suffer the neglect of this, we shall undo all. What are 
we like to do ourselves for reforming a congregation, 
if all the work be cast on us alone, and masters of fa- 
milies neglect that necessary duty of their own by 
which they are bound to help us ? If any good be be- 
gun by the ministry in any soul, a careless, prayerless, 
worldly family, is likely to stifle it, or very much hin- 
der it ; whereas, if you could but get the rulers of fa- 
milies to do their duty, to take up the work where 
you left it, and help it on, what abundance of good 
might be done ! I beseech you, therefore, if you de- 
sire the reformation and welfare of your people, do all 
you can to promote family religion." 

He prosecuted his Master's work with unwearied 
zeal, though suffering great bodily affliction, and ex- 
posed to much vexatious and embarrassing opposition. 

He says: "Taking it to be my duty to preach while 
toleration continues, I removed, the last spring, to 
London, where my diseases, increasing this winter, a 
constant head-ache added to the rest, and continuing 



94 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

Strong for about half a year, constrained me to cease 
my Friday's lecture, and an afiernoon sermon on the 
Lord's days in my house, to my grief; and to preach 
only one sermon a week, at St. James's market-house, 
where some had hired an inconvenient place. But i 
had great encouragement to labor there, because oi 
the notorious necessity of the people; it being the ha- 
bitation of the most ignorant, atheistical, and popish 
about London ; and because, beyond my expectation, 
the people generally proved exceedingly willing, and 
attentive, and tractable, and gave me great hopes oJ 
much success." 

" On July 5, 1674, at our meeting over St. James'sr 
market-house, God vouchsafed us a great delivei-ance. 
A main beam, before weakened by the weight of the 
people, so cracked, that three times they ran in terror 
out of the room, thinking it was falling ; but lemem- 
bering the like at Dunstan's in the west, I reprovea 
their fear as causeless. But the next day, taking up 
the boards, we found that two rents in the beam weres 
so great that it was a wonder of Providence that tho 
floor had not fallen, and the roof with it. to the de- 
struction of multitudes. The Lord make us thankful!' 

"It pleased God to give me marvellous encourage 
ment in my preaching at St. James's. The crack havinf, 
frightened away most of the richer sort, especially th». 
women, most of the congregation were young rnen, 
of the most capable age, who heard with great atten 
tion ; and many that had not come to church for many 
years, manifested so great a cliange, (some })api.sts 
and divers others, returning public thanks to God f»>< 
their conversion) as made all my charge and trouclv 
easy to me. Among all the popish, rude, and igno-idii* 
people who were inhabitants of those parts, we iiad 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 95 

scarcely any tliat opened their mouths agahist us, and 
that did not speak well of the preaching of the word 
among them ; though, when I came first thither, the 
most knowing inhabitants assured me that some of 
the same persons wished my death. Among the ruder 
sort, a common reformation was noticed in the place, 
in their conversation as well as in their judgments." 

"The dangerous crack over the market-house at 
St. James's, made many desire that I had a larger 
safer place for meeting. And though my own dullness, 
and great backwardness to troublesome business, made 
me very averse to so great an undertaking, judging 
that, it being in the face of the court, it would never 
be endured, yet the great and incessant importunity 
of many, out of a fervent desire of the good of souls, 
constrained me to undertake it. And when it was 
almost finished, in Oxendon-street, Mr. Henry Coven- 
try, one of his majesty's prir>cipal secretaries, who had 
a house joining to it, and was a member of parliament, 
spake twice against it in the parliament ; but no one 
seconded him." 

"And that we might do the more good, my wife 
urged the building of another meeting place in Blooms- 
bury, for Mr. Reed, to be furthered by my sometimes 
helping him ; the neighborhood being very full of peo- 
ple, rich and poor. 

" I was so long wearied with keeping my doors shut 
against them that came to distrain on my goods for 
preaching, that I was induced to go from my house, 
and to sell all my goods, and to hide my library first, 
and afterwards to sell it. So that if books had been 
my treasure, and I valued little more on earth, I had 
been now without a treasure. About twelve years I 
was driven a hundred miles from them ; and when I 



96 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

had paid dear for the carriage, after two or three years 
1 was forced to sell them. And the prelates, to hinder 
me from preaching, deprived me also of these private 
comforts. But God saw that they were my snare. We 
brought nothing into the world, and we must carry 
nothing out. 

" I was the more willing to part with goods, books, 
and all, that I might have nothing to be distrained, 
and so go on to preach. And accordingly removing 
my dwelling to the new chapel which I had built, I 
purposed to venture there to preach, there being forty 
thousand persons in the parish, as is supposed, more 
than can hear in the parish church, who have no place 
to go to for God's public worship. So that I set not 
up church against church, but preached to those that 
must else have none, being unwilling that London 
should turn atheists, or live worse than infidels. But 
when I had preached there but once, a resolution was 
taken to surprise me the next day, and send me for 
six months to the common jail, upon the act for the 
Oxford oath. Not knowing of this, it being the hottest 
part of the year, I agreed to go for a few weeks into 
the country, twenty miles off. But the night before I 
should go, I fell so ill that I was induced to send to 
disappoint both the coach and my intended compan- 
ion, Mr. Silvester. And when I was thus fully resolved 
to stay, it pleased God, after the ordinary coach hour, 
that three men, from three parts of the city, met at my 
house accidentally, just at the same time, almost to a 
minute, of whom, if any one had not been there, I had 
not gone, namely, the coachman again to urge me, 
Mr. Silvester, whom I had put off, and Dr. Coxe, who 
compelled me, and told me he would carry me into 
the coach. It proved a special merciful providence of 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 97 

God ; for after one week of languishing and pain, I 
had nine weeks greater ease than ever I expected in 
this world, and greater comfort in my work. My good 
friend Richard Berisford, Esq. clerk of the exchequer, 
wiiose importunity drew me to his house, spared no 
cost, labor, or kindness for my health or service." 

Baxter was now constantly harassed with informa- 
tions, fines, and warrants of distress, but he bore them 
all with astonishing meekness and patience. He endea- 
vored to convince and convert the informers and offi- 
cers, who, on several occasions, came to apprehend 
him. In some cases his exhortations were successful, 
ifnot to their actual conversion, at least to induce them 
to relinquish their persecuting practices. 

A striking instance of his placable and forgiving dis- 
position is given in the following extract. " Keting, 
the informer, being commonly detested for prosecuting 
me, was cast into jail for debt, and wrote to me to en- 
deavor his deliverance, which I did ; and in his letters 
says, ' Sir, I assure you I do verily believe that God 
has bestowed all this affliction on me because I was 
so vile a wretch as to trouble you. And I assure you 
I never did a thing in my life that has so much trou- 
bled myself as that did. I pray God to forgive me. And 
truly, I do not think of any that went that way to work, 
that ever God would favor with his mercy. And truly, 
".vithout great mercy from God, I do not think that 
ever I shall thrive or prosper. And I hope you will be 
pleased to pray to God for me.'" 

Baxter considered that the " vows of God were upon 
him," and that he must continue to preach wherever 
Divine providence opened a door for the purpose. His 
obligations to God he considered superior to those by 
which he was bound to obey the ordinances of man ; 

L. B. 9 



98 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

and therefore, though forbidden by law, and in despite 
of persecution, he continued to preach the Gospel to 
his ignorant and perishing countrymen. 

He says: "Being driven from home, and having an 
old license of the bishop's yet in force, by the counte- 
nance of that, and the great industry of Mr. Berisford, 
I had leave and invitation for ten Lord's days to preach 
in the churches round about. The first that I preached 
in, after thirteen years' ejection and prohibition, was 
Rickmanworth, and after that, at Sarratt, at King's 
Langley, at Chesham, at Charlfont, and at Amersham, 
and that often twice a-day. Those heard who had not 
come to church for seven years; and two or three 
thousand heard, where scarcely a hundred were wont 
to come ; and with so much attention and willingness, 
as gave me very great hopes that I never spake to 
them in vain. And thus soul and body had these spe- 
cial mercies." 

" When I had been kept a whole year from preach- 
ing in the chapel which I built, on the 16th of April, 
1676, I began in another, in a tempestuous time 3 such 
was the necessity of the parish of St. Martin's, where 
about 60,000 souls have no church to go to, nor any 
public worship of God ! How long, Lord !" 

" Being denied forcibly the use of the chapel which 
I had built, I was forced to let it stand empty, and pay 
thirty pounds per annum for the ground-rent myself, 
and glad to preach for nothing, near it, at a chapel 
built by another, formerly in Swallow-street, because 
it was among the same poor people that had no 
preaching." 

Interruptions and informations were so numerous at 
Swallow-street that he was obliged to discontinue his 
labors there. " It pleased God to take away, by tor- 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 99 

ment of the stone, that excellent faithful minister, Mr. 
Thomas Wadsvvorth, in South wark ; and just when I 
was thus kept out at Swallow-street, his flock invited 
me to South wark, where, though I refused to be their 
pastor, I preached many months in peace, there being 
no justice willing to disturb us." 

" When Dr. Lloyd became pastor of St Martin's in 
the Fields, I was encouraged by Dr. Tillotson to offer 
him my chapel in Oxendon-street for public worship, 
which he accepted, to my great satisfaction, and now 
there is constant preaching there. Be it by conformist 
or nonconformists, I rejoice that Christ is preached." 

His reputation, too, was assailed. He was charged 
with uttering falsehood, and with the crime of mur- 
der ! He was able, however, successfully to refute the 
calumnies, and to confound his calumniators. 

About this period, 1681, Baxter was called to endure 
a severe and trying providence, in the death of his wife. 
They had lived together nineteen years. She had been 
his companion in tribulation ; his comforter in sorrow. 
Animated by her piety and her influence, he had per- 
severed in all his attempts to do good. But, now, in 
the advance of life, in weakened health, in persecution, 
and in no distant prospect of imprisonment, he was 
left to pursue his journey alone. She died in the faith 
and hope of the Gospel, June 17, 1681. 

He still pursued his studies and his occasional labors. 
" Having been for retirement in the country, from Ju- 
ly till August 14, 1682, returning in great weakness, I 
was able only to preach twice, of which the last was 
in my usual lecture in New-street, and it fell out to be 
August 24, just that day twenty years, that I, and near 
two thousand more, had been by law forbidden to 
preach any more. I was sensible of God's wonderful 



100 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

mercy that had kept so many of us twenty years in so 
much liberty and peace, while so many severe laws 
were in force against us, and so great a number were 
round about us who wanted neither malice nor power 
to afflict us. And so I took, that day, my leave of the 
pulpit and public work, in a thankful congregation. 
And it is like, indeed, to be my last. 

" But after this, when I had ceased preaching, I 
was, being newly arisen from extremity of pain, sud- 
denly surprised in my house by a poor violent inform- 
er, and many constables and officers, who rushed in 
and apprehended me, and served on me one warrant 
to seize on my person, for coming within five miles of 
a corporation ; and five more warrants, to distrain for 
a hundred and ninety pounds for five sermons. They 
cast my servants into fears, and were about to take all 
my books and goods, and I contentedly went with 
them towards the justice to be sent to jail, and left my 
house to their will. But Dr. Thomas Coxe, meeting 
me, forced me in again to my couch and bed, and went 
to five justices and took his oath, without my know- 
ledge, that I could not go to prison without danger of 
death. Upon that the justices delayed a day, till they 
could speak with the king, and told him what the doc- 
tor had sworn ; and the king consented that the pre- 
sent imprisonment should be forborne, that I might 
die at home. But they executed all their warrants on 
my books and goods, even the bed that I lay sick on, 
and sold them all ; and some friends paid them as much 
money as they were prized at, which I repaid." 

" When I borrowed some necessaries I was never 
the quieter; for they threatened to come upon me 
again and take all as mine, whosesoever it was, which 
they found in my possession. So that 1 had no reme- 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 101 

dy, bill utterly to forsake my house, and goods, and 
all, and take secret lodgings distant in a stranger's 
house. But having a long lease of my own house, 
which binds me to pay a greater rent than now it is 
worth, wherever I go I must pay that vent. 

" The separation from my books would have been 
a greater part of my small affliction, but that I found 
I was near the end both of that work and life which 
needeth books, and so I easily let go all. Naked came 
I into the world, and naked must I go out. 

'■ But I never wanted less what man can give, than 
when men had taken all. My old friends, and stran- 
gers to me, were so liberal, that I was constrained to 
check their bounty. Their kindness was a surer and 
larger revenue to me than my own. 

" But God was plei^sed quickly to put me past all 
fear of man, and all desire of avoiding suffering from 
them by concealment, by laying on me more himself 
than man can do. Their imprisonment, with tolera- 
ble health, would have seemed a palace to me; and 
had they put me to death for such a duty as they per- 
secute me for, it would have been a joyful end of my 
calamity. But day and night I groan and languish un- 
der God's just afflicting hand. As waves follow waves 
in the tempestuous seas, so one pain and danger fol- 
lows another in this sinful miserable flesh. I die daily, 
and yet remain alive. God, in his great mercy, know- 
ing my dullness in health and ease, makes it much 
easier to repent and hate my sin, and loath myself, 
and contemn the world, and submit to the sentence of 
death with willingness, than otherwise it was ever like 
to have been. O how little is it that wrathful enemies 
can do against us, in comparison of what our sin and 
the justice of God can do I And O how little is it that 

L. B. 9* 



102 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

the best and kindest of friends can do for a pained 
body or a guilty soul, in comparison of one gracious 
look or word from God ! Wo be to him that has no 
better help than man ; and blessed is he whose help 
and hope is in the Lord." 

" While I continued, night and day, under constant 
pain, and often strong, and under the sentence of ap- 
proaching death by an incurable disease, which age 
and great debility yields to, I found great need of the 
constant exercise of patience by obedient submission to 
God ; and, writing a small Tract of it for my own use, 
I saw reason to yield to them that desired it might be 
published, there being especially so common need of 
' obedient patience. ' " 

" Under my daily pains I was drawn to a work which 
I had never the least thoughts of, and is like to be the 
last of my life, to write a paraphrase on the New Tes- 
tament. Mr. John Humphrey having long importuned 
me to write a paraphrase on the Epistle to the Romans, 
when I had done that, the usefulness of it to myself 
drew me farther and farther, till I had done all. But 
having confessed my ignorance of the Revelation, and 
yet unwilling wholly to omit it, I gave but general 
notes, with the reasons of my uncertainty in the great- 
est difficulties, which I know will fall under the sharp 
censure of many. But truth is more valuable than 
such men's praises. I fitted the whole, by plainness, 
to the use of ordinary families. 

"After many times deliverance from the sentence 
of death, on November 20, 1684. in the very entrance 
of the seventieth year of my age, God was pleased so 
greatly to increase my painful diseases, as to pass on 
me the sentence of a painful death. But God turns it 
to my good, and gives me a greater willingness to die 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 103 

than I once thought I should ever have attained. The 
Lord teach me more fully to love his will and rest 
therein, as much better than my own, that often strives 
against it. 

" A little before this, while I lay in pain and lan- 
guishing, the justices of sessions sent warrants to ap- 
prehend me, about a thousand more being also on the 
list, to be all bound to good behavior. I thought they 
would send me six months to prison for not taking the 
Oxford oath, and dwelling in London, and so I refused 
to open my chamber door to them, their warrant not 
being to break it open. But they set six officers at my 
study door, who watched all night, and kept me from 
my bed and food ; so that the next day I yielded to 
them, who carried me, scarce able to stand, to their 
sessions, and bound me, in a four hundred pounds' bond, 
to good behavior. I desired to know what my crime 
was, and who were my accusers; but they told me it 
was for no fault, but to secure the government in evil 
times ; and that they had a list of many suspected per- 
sons, who must do the like as well as I. I desired to 
know for what I was numbered with the suspected, 
and by whose accusation ; but they gave me good 
words, and would not tell me. I told them I would 
rather they would send me to jail than put me in cir- 
cumstances to wrong others by being bound with me 
in bonds that I was like to break to-morrow; for if 
there did but five persons come in when I was praying, 
they would take it for a breach of good behavior. They 
told me not, if they came on other business unexpect- 
edly, and not to a set meeting ; nor yet if we did no- 
thing contrary to law, or the practice of the cliurch. 
I told them our innocency was not now any security 
to us. If two beggar women did but stand in the street 



104 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

and swear that I spake contrary to the law, though 
they heard me not, my bonds and liberty were at their 
will; fori myself, lying on my bed, heard Mr. I. R. 
preach in a chapel on the other side of my chamber, 
and yet one Sibil Dash and Elizabeth Cappell swore 
to the justices that it was another that preached ; two 
miserable poor women that made a trade of it, and had 
thus sworn against very many worthy persons in Hack- 
ney and elsewhere, on which their goods were seized 
for fines. But to all this I received no answer. I must 
give bond. 

" But all this is so small a part of my suffering, in 
comparison of what I bear in my flesh, that I could 
scarce regard it ; and it is small in comparison of what 
others suffer. Many excellent persons die in common 
jails: thousands are ruined. That holy humble man, 
Mr. Rosewell, is now under a verdict for death as a 
traitor for preaching some words, on the witness and 
oath of Hilton's wife, and one or two more women, 
whose husbands live professedly on the trade, for which 
he claims many hundred or thousand pounds. And not 
only the man declares, but many of his hearers wit- 
ness, that no such words were spoken, nor any that did 
not become a loyal, prudent man. 

"December 11, I was forced, in all my pain and 
weakness, to be carried to the sessions-house, or else 
my bond of four hundred pounds would have been 
judged forfeited. And the more moderate justices, that 
promised my discharge, would none of them be there, 
but left the work to Sir William Smith and the rest, 
who openly declared that they had nothing against 
me, and look me for innocent, but yet I must continue 
bound, lest others should expect to be discharged also, 
which I openly refused. But my sureties would be 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 105 

bound, lest I should die in jail, against my declared 
will, and so I must continue." 

" January 17. I was forced again to be carried to the 
sessions, and after divers days good words, which put 
me in expectation of freedom, when I was gone, one 

justice, Sir Deerham, said it was probable that 

these persons solicited for my liberty that they might 
come to hear me in conventicles ; and on that they 
bound me again in a four hundred pounds' bond for 
above a quarter of a year, and so it is likely to be till 
I die, or worse ; though no one ever accused me for 
any conventicle or preaching since they took all my 
books and goods above two years ago, and 1, for the 
most part, keep my bed." 

His greatest trial was now hastening. His " Para- 
phrase on the New Testament " gave great offence in 
certain quarters, and was made the ground of a trial 
for sedition. 

The following account of this extraordinary trial and 
its issue are given by Calamy, and in a letter from a 
person who was present on the occasion : 

" On the 28th of February Baxter was committed to 
the King's-Bench prison, by warrant of Lord Chief 
Justice Jefferies, for his ' Paraphrase on the New Tes- 
tament,' which had been printed a little before, and 
which was described as a scandalous and seditious 
book against the government. On his commitment by 
the chief justice's warrant, he applied for a habeas 
corpus, and having obtained it, he absconded into the 
country to avoid imprisonment, till the term approach- 
ed. He was induced to do this from the constant pain 
he endured, and an apprehension that he could not 
bear the confinement of a prison. 

" On the 6th of May, which was the first day of the 



106 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

term, he appeared in Westminster-Hall, and an infor- 
mation was then drawn up against him. On the 14lh 
of May he pleaded not guilty to the information. On 
the 18th of the same niontli, being much indisposed, it 
was moved that he might have further time given him 
before his trial, but this was denied him. He moved 
for it by his counsel ; but Jefferies cried out, in a pas- 
sion, ' I will not give him a minute's time more, to save 
his life. We have had to do,' said he, ' with other 
sorts of persons, but now we have a saint to deal with ; 
and I know how to deal with saints as well as sinners. 
Yonder,' said he, 'stands Oates in the pillory,' (as he 
actually did at that very time in the new Palace Yard,) 
' and he says he suffers for the truth, and so says Bax- 
ter; but if Baxter did but stand on the other side of 
the pillory with him, I would say, two of the greatest 
rogues and rascals in the kingdom stood there.' 

" On May 30, in the afternoon, Baxter was brought 
to trial before the lord chief justice at Guild-hall. 
Sir Henry Ashurst, \vho would not forsake his own 
and his father's friend, stood by him all the while. 
Baxter came first into court, and with all the marks 
of sincerity and composure, waited for the coming of 
the lord chief justice, who appeared quickly after, with 
great indignation in his face. 

" ' When I saw,' says an eye witness, ' the meek 
man stand before the flaming eyes and fierce looks of 
this bigot, I thought of Paul standing before Nero.. 
The barbarous usage which he received drew plenty 
of tears from my eyes, as well as from others of the 
auditors and spectators. 

"Jefferies no sooner sat down than a short cause 
was called and tried ; after which the clerk began to 
read the title of another cause. ' You blockhead,' said 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 107 

JefFeries, ' the next cause is between Richard Baxter 
and the king :' upon which Baxter's cause was called. 

" On the jury being sworn, Baxter objected to them, 
as incompetent to his trial, owing to its peculiar na- 
ture. The jurymen being tradesmen, and not scholars, 
he alledged they were incapable of pronouncing wheth- 
er his 'Paraphrase' was or was not according to the 
original text. He therefore prayed that he might have 
a jury of learned men, though the one-half of them 
should be papists. This objection, as might have been 
expected, was overruled by the court. 

" The king's counsel opened the information at large, 
with its aggravations. Mr. Pollexfen, Mr. Wallop, Mr. 
Williams, Mr. Rotherham, Mr. Atwood, and Mr. Phipps, 
were Baxter's counsel, and had been engaged by Sir 
Henry Ashurst. 

"Pollexfen then rose and addressed the court and 
the jury. He stated that he was counsel for the pri- 
soner, and felt that he had a very unusual plea to 
manage. He had been obliged, he said, by the nature 
of the cause, to consult all our learned commentators, 
many of whom, learned, pious, and belonging to the 
church of England too, concurred with Mr. Baxter in 
his paraphrase of those passages of Scripture which 
were objected to in the indictment, and by whose help 
he would be enabled to manage his client's cause. 'I 
shall begin,' said he, 'with Dr. Hammond: and, gen- 
tlemen, though Mr. Baxter made an objection against 
you, as not fit judges of Greek, which has been over- 
ruled, I hope you understand English common sense, 
and can read.' To which the foreman of the jury 
made a profound bow, and said, 'Yes, sir.' 

"On this the chief justice burst upon Pollexfen like 
a fury, and told him he should not sit there to hear 



108 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

him preach. 'No, my lord,' said PolleXfen, *I am coun- 
sel for Mr, Baxter, and shall offer nothing but what is 
to the point.' ' Why, this is not,' said Jefferies, ' that 
you cant to the jury beforehand.' 'I beg your lord- 
ship's pardon,' said the counsel, 'and shall then pro- 
ceed to business.' ' Come then,' said Jefferies, ' what do 
you say to this count? read it, clerk:' referring to the 
paraphrase on Mark, 12 : 38-40. ' Is he not, now, an 
old knave, to interpret this as belonging to liturgies?' 
'So do others,' replied Pollexfen, 'of the church of 
England, who would be loth so to wrong the cause of 
liturgies as to make them a novel invention, or not to 
be able to date them as early as the scribes and pha- 
risees,' 'No, no, Mr. Pollexfen,' said the judge: 'they 
were long-winded, extempore prayers, such as they 
used to say when they appropriated God to themselves: 
"Lord, we are thy people, thy peculiar people, thy 
dear people." ' And then he clenched his hands and 
lifted up his eyes, mimicking their manner, and run- 
ning on furiously, as he said they used to pray. ' Pol- 
lexfen,' said Jefferies, 'this is an old rogue, who has 
poisoned the world with his Kidderminster doctrine. 
Don't we know how he preaclied formerly, " Curse 
ye Meroz ; curse them bitterly that come not to the 
help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the 
mighty." He encouraged all the women and maids 
to bring their bodkins and thimbles to carry on their 
war against the king, of ever blessed memory. An old 
Kchismatical knave, a hypocritical villain!' 

"Mr. Wallop said that he conceived the matter de- 
pending being a point of doctrine, it ought to be re- 
ferred to the bishop, his ordinary : but if not, he hum- 
bly conceived the doctrine was innocent and justifiable, 
setting aside the inuendos, for which there was no 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 109 

color, there being no antecedent to refer them to, 
(i. e. no bishop or clergy of the church of England 
named;) he said the book accused contained many 
eternal truths: but they who drew the information 
were the libellers, in applying to the prelates of tho 
church of England those severe things which were; 
written concerning some prelates who deserved the 
characters which he gave. 'My lord,' said he, 'I hum- 
bly conceive the bishops Mr. Baxter speaks of, as youi* 
lordship, if you have read church history, must con- 
fess, w^ere the plagues of the church and of the world.' 
"Mr. Rotherham urged 'that if Mr. Baxters book 
had sharp reflections upon the church of Rome by 
name, but spake well of the prelates of the church of 
England, it was to be presumed that the sharp reflec- 
tions were intended only against the prelates of i\\r. 
church of Rome.' The lord chief justice said, 'Baxter 
was an enemy to the name and thing, the office and 
persons of bishops.' Rotherham added, that Baxter 
frequently attended divine service, went to the sacra- 
ment, and persuaded others to do so too, as was cer- 
tainly and publicly known; and had, in the very book 
so charged, spoken very moderately and honorably of 
the bishops of the church of England.' 

" Baxter added, 'My lord, I have been so moderate 
with respect to the church of England, that I have in- 
curred the censure of many of the dissenters upon that 
account.' 'Baxter for bishops!' exclaimed Jefferies, 
' that is a merry conceit indeed : turn to it, turn to it. 
Upon this Rotherham turned to a place where it is 
satd 'that great respect is due to those truly called to 
be bishops among us; or to that purpose. 'Ay,' said 
Jefferies, ' this is your Presbyterian cant ; truly called 
/,') ^e bishops : that is himself, and such rascals, called 

I.. B. 10 



110 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

to be biiihops of Kidderminster, and other such places, 
liishops set apart by such factious Presbyterians as 
liimself : a Kidderminster bishop lie means. ' 

" Baxter beginning to speak again, Jefferies reviled 
)iim; 'Richard, Richard, dost thou think we'll hear 
ihee poison the court ? Richard, thou art an old fellow, 
an old knave ; thou hast written books enough to load 
u cart, every one as full of sedition, I might say trea- 
hon, as an egg is of meat. Hadst thou been whipped 
nut of thy writing trade forty years ago, it had been 
liappy. Thou pretendest to be a preacher of the Gospel 
uf peace, and thou hast one foot in the grave: it i.s 
lime for thee to begin to think what account thou iu- 
tendest to give. But, leave thee to thyself, and I see 
ihou'lt go on as thou hast begun ; but, by the grace of 
<iod, I'll look after thee. I know thou hast a mighty 
party, and I see a great many of the brotherhood in 
corners, waiting to sec what will become of their 
mighty don ; and a doctor of the party (looking at Dr. 
Bates) at your elbow; but, by the grace of Almighty 
God, I'll crush you all. Come, what do you say for 
yourself, you old knave? come, speak up ! What doih 
he say ? I am not afraid of you, for all the snivelling,' 
calves you have about you :' alluding to some persons 
who were in tears about Mr. Baxter. 'Your lordship 
need not be,' said the holy man ; ' for I'll not hurt you. 
But these things will surely be understood one day ; 
what fools one sort of protestants are made to perse- 
cute the other I' And, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he 
said, 'I am not concerned to answer such stuff; but 
am ready lo produce my writings for the confutation 
of all this ; and my life and conversation are known 
to many in this nation.' 

" Mr. Rotherham sitting down, Mr. Atwood began 



LIFE OF BAXTER. Ill 

to show that not one of the passages mentioned in the 
information ought to be strained to the sense which 
was put upon them by the inuendos; they being more 
natural when taken in a milder sense: nor could any 
one of them be applied to the prelates of the church 
of England, without a very forced construction. T<» 
prove this, he would have read some of the text: but 
Jefferies cried out, 'You shan't draw me into a con- 
venticle with your annotations, nor your snivelling 
parson neither.' ' My lord,' said Mr. Atwood, ' that I 
may use the best authority, permit me to repeat your 
lordship's own words in that case.' 'No, you shan't,* 
said he : ' you need not speak, for you are an author 
already ; though you speak and write impertinently.' 
Atwood replied, 'I can't help that, my lord, if my 
talent be no better; but it is my duty to do my best 
for my client.' 

"Jefferies then went on inveighing against what 
Atwood had published ; and Atwood justified it as in 
defence of the English constitution, declaring that he 
never disowned any thing that he had written Jef- 
feries several times ordered him to sit down; but he 
still went on. 'My lord,' said he, 'I have matter of 
law to urge for my client.' He then proceeded to cite 
eeveral cases wherein it had been adjudged that words 
ought to be taken in the milder sense, and not to be 
strained by inuendos. 'Well,' said Jefferies, when he 
had done, ' you have had your say.' 

" Mr. Williams and 3Ir. Pliipps said nothing, for 
they saw it was to no purpose. At last Baxter himself 
said, ' My lord, I think I can clearly answer all that is 
laid to my charge, and I shall do it briefly. The sum 
is contained in these few papers, to which I shall add 
a little by testimony ' But he would not hear a word. 



112 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

At length the chief justice summed up the matter in 
a long and fulsome harangue. ' It was notoriously 
known,' he said, ' there had been a design to ruin the 
king and the nation. The old game had been renewed ; 
and this person had been the main incendiary. He is 
as modest now as can be ; but time was, when no man 
Avas so ready at, '• Bind your kings in chains, and your 
nobles in fetters of iron j" and, " To your tents, O 
Israel." Gentlemen, (with an oath,) don't let us be 
gulled twice in an age.' And when he concluded, he 
told the jury ' that if they in their consciences be- 
lieved he meant the bishops and clergy of the church 
of England in the passages \vhich the information re- 
ferred to, and he could mean nothing else, they must 
find him guilty. If not, they must find him not guilty." 
When he had done, Baxter said to him, ' Does your 
lordship think any jury will pretend to pass a verdict 
upon me upon such a trial?' 'I'll warrant you, Mr. 
Baxter,' said he, ' don't you trouble yourself about that.' 

" The jury immediately laid their heads together at 
the bar, and found him guilty. As he was going from 
the bar, Baxter told the lord chief justice, who had 
so loaded him with reproaches, and still continued 
them, that a predecessor of his had had otiier thoughts 
of him ; upon which he replied, ' that there was not 
an honest man in England but what took him for a 
great knave.' Baxter had subpoenaed several clergy- 
men, who appeared in court, but were of no use to 
him, through the violence of the chief justice. Tht 
trial being over. Sir Henry Ashurst led him througn 
the crowd, and conveyed him away in his coach." 

This is a faithful portrait of Jefferies, who furnis>»- 
ed Bunyan with the features of his chief justice, the 
Lord Hategood. Can we be insensible to the mercies 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 113 

we enjoy in the very different administration of justice 
ill our own times? 

" On the 2£th of June Baxter had judgment given 
against him. He was fined five hundred marks, con- 
demned to lie in prison till he paid it, and bound to 
his good behavior for seven years. It is said that Jef- 
feries proposed a corporal punishment, namely, whip- 
ping through the city; but his brethren would not ac- 
cede to it. In consequence of which the fine and im- 
prisonment were agreed to. 

'' Baxter being unable to pay the fine, and aware 
that, though he did. he might soon be prosecuted again, 
on some equally unjust pretence, went to prison. Here 
he was visited by his friends, and even by some of the 
respectable clergy of the church, who sympathised 
with his sufferings and deplored the injustice he re- 
ceived. He continued in this imprisonment nearly 
two years, during which he enjoyed more quietness 
than he had done for many years before. 

*' An imprisonment of two years would have been 
found very trying and irksome to most men ; to Bax- 
ter, however, it does not appear to have pro.-ed so pain- 
ful, though he had now lost his beloved wife, who had 
frequently before been his companion in solitude and 
suffering. His friends do not appear to have neglected 
or forgotten him. The following extract of a letter from 
the well known Matthew Henry, presents a pleasing 
view of the manner in which he endured bonds and 
afflictions for Christ's sake. It is addressed to hi>; fa- 
ther, and dated the ITih of November, 16S5, when 
Baxter had been several months confined. Mr, ^Vll- 
liams justly remarks, ' It is one of those pictures of 
days which are past, which, if rightly viewed, i^i\ 
produce lasting and beneficial effects; emotions of sa- 

L. B. 10* 



114 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

cred sorrow for the iniquity of persecution, and ani- 
mating praise that the demon in tiiese happy days of 
tranquillity is restrained, though not destroyed.' 

" ' I went into Southwark, to Mr. Baxter. I was to 
wait upon him once before, and tlien he was busy. 1 
found him in pretty comfortable circumstances, though 
a prisoner, in a private house near the prison, attended 
by his own man and maid. My good friend Mr. Samuel 
Lawrence went with me. He is in as good health as 
one can expect ; and, methinks, looks better, and speaks 
heartier, than when I saw him last. The token you 
sent he would by no means be persuaded to accept 
(and was almost angry when I pressed it) from one 
fjected as well as himself. He said he did not use to 
receive; and I understand since, his need is not great. 

" We sat with him about an hour. He gave us some 
good counsel to prepare for trials, and said the best 
preparation for them was a life of faith and a constant 
course of self-denial. He thought it harder constantly 
to deny temptations to sensual appetites and pleasures, 
than to resist one single temptation to deny Christ for 
fear of suffering ; the former requiring such constant 
Avatchfulness ; however, after the former, the latter will 
be the easier. He said, we who are young are apt to 
count upon great things, but we must not look for 
them ; and much more to this purpose. He said he 
thought dying by sickness usually much more painful 
and dreadful than dying a violent death, especially 
considering the extraordinary supports which those 
have who suffer for righteousness' sake." 

Various efforts were made by his friends to have his 
fine remitted, which, after considerable delay, was ac- 
complished. 

" On the 24th of November. 1686, Sir Samuel Astrey 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 115 

sent his warrant to the keeper of the King's Bench 
prison to discharge Baxter. He gave sureties, how- 
ever, for his good behavior, his majesty declaring, for 
liis satisfaction, that it should not be interpreted a 
breach of good behavior for him to reside in London, 
which was not inconsistent with the Oxford act. After 
this release he continued to live some time within the 
rules of the Bench ; till, on the 28th of February, 1687, 
he removed to his house in the Charterhouse-yard ; 
and again, as far as his health would permit, assisted 
Mr. Sylvester in his public labors." 

"After his injurious confinement," says his friend 
Sylvester, in the funeral sermon which he preached 
for Baxter, " he settled in Charterhouse-yard, in Rut- 
landhouse, and bestowed his ministerial assistance gra- 
tis upon me. Thereupon he attended every Lord's day 
in the morning, and every other Thursday morning at 
a weekly lecture. Thus were we yoked together in 
our ministerial work and trust, to our great mutual sa- 
tisfaction ; and because his respects to me, living and 
dying, were very great, I cannot but the more feel the 
loss. I had the benefit and pleasure of always free ac- 
cess to him, and instant conversation with him ; and 
by whom could I profit more than by himself? So 
ready was he to communicate his thoughts to me, and 
so clearly would he represent them, as that I may truly 
say, it was greatly my own fault if he left me not 
wiser than he found me, at all times. 

" After he had continued with me about four years 
and a half he was disabled from going forth to his mi- 
nisterial work; so that what he did he performed for 
the residue of his life in his own hired house, where 
he opened his doors, morning and evening, every day, 
to all that would come to join in family worship with 



116 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

him; to whom he read the Holy Scriptures, from 
whence he ' preached the kingdom of God, and taught 
those things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ, 
with all confidence, no man forbidding him,' Acts, 
28 : 30. 31, even as one greater than himself had done 
before him. But, alas, his growing diseases and in- 
firmities soon forbade this also, confining him first to 
his chamber, and after to his bed. There, through 
pain and sickness, his body wasted ; but his soul abode 
rational, strong in faith and hope, preserving itself in 
that patience, hope, and joy, through grace, which 
gave him great support, and kept out doubts and fears 
concerning his eternal welfare."' 

He still labored with his pen. Even on the very 
bordersof eternity he was desirous to improve the fleet- 
ing moments. '' He continued to preach," Dr. Bates 
observes, in his funeral discourse, "so long, notwith- 
standing his wasted, languishing body, that the last 
time he almost died in the pulpit. Not long after, he 
felt the approaches of death, and was confined to his 
sick-bed. Death reveals the secrets of the heart; then 
words are spoken with most feeling and least affecta- 
tion. This excellent man was the same in his life and 
death ; his last hours were spent in preparing others 
and himself to appear before God. He said to his 
friends that visited him, ' You come hither to learn 
to die; I am not the only person that must go this 
way. I can assure you that your whole life, be it ever 
so long, is little enough to prepare for death. Have a 
care of this vain, deceitful world, and the lusts of the 
flesh ; be sure you choose God for your portion, hea- 
ven for your home, God's glory for your end, his word 
for your rule, and then you need never fear but we 
fthall meet with comfort.' 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 117 

" Never was penitent sinner more humble, ne vet was 
a sincere believer more calm and comfortable. He ac- 
knowledged himself to be the vilest dunghill worm 
(it was his usual expression) that ever went to heaven. 
He admired the divine condescension to us, often say- 
ing, ' Lord, what is man ; what am I, vile worm, to the 
great God !' Many times he prayed, ' God be merciful 
to me a sinner,' and blessed God that this was left upon 
record in the Gospel as an effectual prayer. He said, 
' God may justly condemn me for the best duty I ever 
did ; all my hopes are from the free mercy of God in 
Christ,' which he often prayed for. 

" After a slumber, he waived, and said, ' I shall rest 
from my labor.' A minister then present said, ' And 
your works will follow you.' To whom he replied, 
' No works ; I will leave out works, if God will grant 
me the other.' When a friend was comforting him 
with the remembrance of the good many had received 
by his preaching and writings, he said, ' I was but a 
pen in God's hands, and what praise is due to a pen?' 

" His resignation to the will of God in his sharp 
sickness was eminent. When extremity of pain con- 
strained him earnestly to pray to God for his release 
by death, he would check himself: ' It is not fit for me 
to prescribe — when Thou wilt, what Thou wilt, how 
Thou wilt.' 

'• Being in great anguish, he said, ' 0, how unsearch- 
able are His ways, and his paths past finding out ; the 
depths of his providence we cannot fathom !' And to 
his friends, ' Do not think the worse of religion for 
what you see me suffer.' 

" Being often asked by his friends, how it was with 
his inward man, he replied, ' I bless God I have a well- 
grounded assurance of my eternal happiness, and great 



118 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

peace and comfort within.' But it was Ins regret that 
he could not triumphantly express it, by reason of his 
extreme pains. He said, ' Flesh must perish, and we 
must feel the perishing of it ; and that though his judg- 
ment submitted, yet sense would still make him groan.' 
" Being asked whether he had not great joy from his 
believing apprehensions of the invisible state, he re- 
plied, 'What else, think you, Christianity serves for?' 
He said, the consideration of the Deity in his glory and 
greatness was too high for our thought ; but the consi- 
deration of the Son of God in our nature, and of the 
saints in heaven, whom he knew and loved, did much 
sweeten and familiarize heaven to him. The descrip- 
tion of it, in Heb. 12 : 22-24, Avas most animating to 
him ; 'that he was going to the innumerable company 
of angels, and to the general assembly and church of 
the first-born, whose names are written in heaven ; 
and to God, the Judge of ail, and to the spirits of jusi 
men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new 
covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaketh 
better things than the blood of Abel.' That scripture, 
he said, deserved a thousand thousand thoughts. O. 
how comfortable is that promise ; ' Eye hath not seen, 
nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart ol 
man, the things which God hath prepared for them 
that love him.' At another time he said that he found 
great comfort and sweetness in repeating the words of 
the Lord's prayer, and was sorry some good people 
were prejudiced against the use of it, for there were all 
necessary petitions for soul and body contained in it. 
At other times he gave excellent counsel to young mi- 
nisters that visited him ; earnestly prayed God to bless 
their labors, and make them very successful in con* 
verting souls to Christ ; expressed great joy in the 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 119 

hope that God would do a great deal of good by them ; 
and that they were of moderate, peaceful spirits. 

" He often prayed that God would be merciful to 
this miserable, distracted world ; ana that he would 
preserve his church and interest in it. He advised his 
friends to beware of self-conceit, as a sin that was 
likely to ruin this nation ; and said, 'I have written ii 
book against it, which I am afraid has done little good.' 
Being asked whether he had altered his mind on con- 
troversial points, he said, those that pleased might 
know his mind in his writings ; and that what he had 
done was not for his own reputation, but for the glory 
of God. 

'• I went to him, with a very worthy friend, Mr. Ma- 
ther, of New-England, the day before he died; and 
bpeaking some comforting words to him, he replied, ' I 
have pain; there is no arguing against sense; but I 
liave peace, I have peace.' I said, you are now ap- 
proaching your long-desired home; he answered, 'I 
believe, I believe.' He said to Mr. Mather, ' I bless 
God that you have accomplished your business ; the 
Lord prolong your life.' He expressed his great wii- 
Imgness to die ; and during his sickness, when the 
question was asked, ' How he did ?' his reply was, 
' Almost well.' His joy was most remarkable, when, in 
his own apprehension, death was nearest ; and his spi- 
ritual joy was at length consummated in eternal joy." 

"As to himself, even to tlie last," says Mr. Sylvester, 
" I never could perceive his peace and heavenly hopes 
assaulted or disturbed. I have often heard him greatly 
lament that he felt no greater liveliness in what ap- 
peared so great and clear to him, and so very much 
desired by him. As to the influence thereof upon his 
spirit, in order to the sensible refreshment of it, he 



120 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

clearly saw what ground he had to rejoice in God ; he 
doubted not of his title to heaven, through the merits 
of Christ. He told me he knew it would be well with 
him when he was gone. He wondered to hear others 
speak of their so passionately strong desires to die, and 
of their transports of spirit when sensible of their ap- 
proaching death, as he did not so vividly feel their 
strong consolations. But when I asked him whether 
much of tliis was not to be resolved into bodily con- 
stitution, he said it might be so. The heavenly state 
was the object of his severe and daily thoughts and 
solemn contemplations; for he set some time apart 
every day for that weighty work. He knew that nei- 
ther grace nor duty could be duly exercised without 
serious meditation. And as he was a scribe instructed 
into the kingdom of heaven, so he both could and did 
draw forth out of his treasures things new and old, to 
his own satisfaction and advantage, as well as to the 
benefit of others." 

" He had frequently, before his death, owned to me 
his continuance in tiiesame sentiments that he had ex- 
liibited to the world in his polemic discourses, especial- 
ly about justification, and the covenants of works and 
grace, &c. And being asked, at my request, whether 
he had changed his former thoughts about those things;, 
liis answer was, that he had told the world sufii- 
ciently his judgment concerning the.ii by words and 
writing, and thither he referred men. And then lifting 
up his eyes to heaven, he uttered these words, ' Lord, 
pity, pity, pity the ignorance of this poor city.' 
• "On Monday, the day before liis death, a great 
trembling and coldness awakened nature, and extorted 
strong cries for pity from Heaven ; which cries and 
agony continued for some time, till at length he ceas- 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 121 

ed those cries, and so lay in a patient expectation of his 
change. And being once asked by his faithful friend 
and constant attendant npon him in his weakness, 
worthy and faithful Mrs. Bushel, his liousekeeper, 
whether he knew her or no, requesting some signifi- 
cation of it if he did, he softly said, 'Death, death !' 
And now he felt the benefit of his former preparations 
for such a trying hour. And, indeed, the last words that 
he spake to me, being informed that I was come to see 
him, were these, '0, I thank him, I thank him 5' and 
turning his eyes to me, he said, ' The Lord teach you 
to die.' " 

" On Tuesday morning, about four o'clock, Decem- 
ber 8th, 1691, he expired ; though he expected and de- 
sired his dissolution to have been on the Lord's day 
before, which, with joy, to me he called a high day, be- 
cause of his desired change expected then by him." 

A report was quickly spread abroad after his death, 
that he was exercised on his dying bed with doubts 
respecting the truths of religion, and his own personal 
safety, which report Mr. Sylvester thus refutes : 

" Of what absurdity will not degenerate man be 
guilty! We know nothing here that could, in the 
least, minister to such a report as this. I that was with 
him all along, have ever heard him triumphing in his 
heavenly expectation, and ever speaking like one that 
could never have thought it worth a man's while to be, 
were it not for the great interest and ends of godliness. 
He told me that he doubted not but it would be best 
lor him, when he had left this life and was translated 
to the heavenly regions. 

" He owned v;hat he had written, with reference to 
the things of God, to the very last. He advised those 
that came near him^ carefully to mind their soul's con- 

L. B. 11 



1^2 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

ceras. Tlie shortness of time, the importance of eter- 
nity, the worth of souls, the greatness of God, the 
riciies of the grace of Christ, the excellency and im- 
port of an heavenly mind and life, and the great use- 
fulness of the word and means of grace pnrsuant to 
eternal purposes, ever lay pressingly upon his own 
heart, and extorted from him very useful directions 
and encouragements to all that came near him, even 
to the last; insomuch that if a polemical or casuistical 
point, or any speculation on philosophy or divinity, 
had been but ollered to him for his resolution, after 
the clearest and briefest representation of liis mind 
v.'hich the proposer's satisfaction called for, he present- 
ly and most delightfully fell into conversation about 
what related to our Christian hope and work/' 

"Baxter was buried in Christ-church, London, where 
the ashes of his wife and her mother had been deposit- 
ed. Mis funeral was attended by a great number of 
persons of different ranks, especially of ministers, con- 
fjrmists as well as nonconformists, who were eager 
to testify their respect for one of whom it might have 
been said with equal truth, as of the intrepid reformer 
r)f the north, 'There lies tlie man who never feared 
the face of man.'" 

In his last will, made two years before his death, he 
says, " I, Richard Baxter, of London, clerk, an un- 
worthy servant of Jesus Christ, drawing to the end of 
this transitory life, having, through God's great mercy, 
the free use of my understanding, do make this my 
last will and testament, revoking all other wills for- 
merly made by me. My spirit I commit, with trust 
and hope of the heavenly felicity, into the hands of 
Jesus, my glorified Redeemer and Intercessor ; and, 
by his mediation, into the hands of Cod my reconcil- 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 123 

ed Father, the infinite eternal Spirit, Liglit, Life, and 
Love, most great, and wise, and good, the God of na- 
ture, grace, and glory ; of wliom, and through whom, 
and to whom are all things ; my absolute Owner, Ru- 
ler, Benefactor, whose I am, and whom I, though im- 
perfectly, serve, seek, and trust; to whom be glory for 
ever, amen. To him I render the most humble thanks, 
that he hath filled up my life with abundant mercy, 
and pardoned my sins by the merits of Christ, and 
vouchsafed, by his Spirit, to renew me and seal me as 
his own ; and to moderate and bless to me my long 
sufferings in the flesh, and at last to sweeten them by 
his own interest and comforting approbation." He 
bequeathed his books to " poor scholars," and the resi- 
due of his property to the poor. 



CHAPTER VI. 

HIS PERSON' — VIEWS OF HIMSELF, AND GENERAL 
CHARACTER. 

Having proceeded to the grave, and committed his 
"remains to their long and final resting-place, it will 
be proper to present the views which were formed of 
his character, both by himself and friends. 

" His person," Mr. Sylvester states, " was tall and 
slender, and stooped much; his countenance composed 
and grave, somewhat inclining to smile. He had a 
piercing eye, a very articulate speech, and his deport- 
ment rather plain than complimental. He had a great 



124 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

command over his thoughts. His character answered 
the description given of liini by a learned man dis- 
senting from him, after discourse with him ; that ' he 
could say what he would, and he could prove what he 
said.'" 

Some few years before his death, Baxter took a mi- 
nute and extensive survey of his own character, and 
committed it to paper. From this paper the following 
extracts are taken : — 

" As it is soui-experiments which those that urge me 
to this kind of writing expect I should especially com- 
municate to others, and I have said little of God's deal- 
ing with my soul since the time of my younger years, 
I shall only give the reader what is necessary to ac- 
quaint him truly what change God has made upon my 
mind and heart since those earlier times, and wherein 
I now differ in judgment and disposition from my for- 
mer self. And, for any more particular account of 
heart-occurrences, and God's operations on me, 1 think 
it somewhat unsuitable to recite them ; seeing God's 
dealings are much the same with all his servants in the 
main, and the points M'herein he varieth are usually so 
small, that I think such not proper to be repeated. Nor 
have I any thing extraordinary to glory in, which is 
not common to the rest of my brethren, who have the 
same Spirit, and are servants of llie same Lord. Ana 
the true reason M'hy 1 do adventure so far upon the 
censure of the world as to tell them wherein the case 
is altered with me, is, that I may j)revent young inex- 
perienced Christians from being over-confident in their 
first apprehensions, or overvaluing their first degrees 
of grace, or too much applauding and following unfur- 
nished inexperienced men, and that they may be in 
some measure directed what mind and course of life to 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 125 

prefer, by the judgment of one that has tried both be- 
fore them. 

" The temper of my mind has somewhat altered 
with the temper of my body. When I was young, 1 
was more vigorous, affectionate, and fervent in preach- 
ing, conference, and prayer, than ordinarily I can be 
now ; my style was more extemporary and lax, but by 
the advantage of affection, and a very familiar moving 
voice and utterance, my preaching then did more affect 
the auditory than many of the last years before I gave 
over preaching ; but yet what I delivered was much 
more raw, and had more passages that would not bear 
the trial of accurate judgments, and my discourses 
had both less substance and less judgment than of late. 

"In my younger years my trouble for sin was most 
about my actual failings, in thought, word, or action; 
now I am much more troubled for inward defects, and 
omission or want of the vital duties or graces in the 
soul. My daily trouble is so much for my ignorance 
of God, and weakness of belief, and want of greater 
love to God, and strangeness to him and to the life to 
come, and want of a greater willingness to die, and ot 
a longing to be with God in heaven, — that I take not 
some immoralities, though very great, to be in them- 
selves so great and odious sins, if they could be found se- 
parate from these. Had I all the riches of the world, 
how gladly should I give them for a fuller knowledge, 
belief, and love of God and everlasting glory ! These 
wants are the greatest burdens of my life, which 
often make my life itself a burden. And I cannot find 
any hope of reaching so high in these while I am in 
the flesh, as I once hoped before this time to have at- 
tained ; which makes me the more weary of this sinful 
L. B. U* 



126 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

world, which is honored with so httle of the know 
ledge of God. 

" Heretofore I placed much of my religion in ten- 
derness of heart, and grieving for sin, and penitential 
tears; and less of it in the love of God, and studying 
his love and goodness, and in his joyful praises, than 
I now do. Then I was little sensible of the greatness 
and excellency of love and praise, though I coldly 
spake the same words in its commendation as I now 
do. And now I am less troubled for want of grief and 
tears, though I more value humility, and refuse not 
needful humiliation ; but my conscience now looks at 
love and delight in God, and praising him, as the height 
of all my religious duties, for which it is that I value 
and use the rest. 

"My judgment is much more for frequent and seri- 
ous meditation on the heavenly blessedness, than it 
was in my younger days. I then thought that ser- 
mons on the attributes of God and the joys of hea- 
ven were not the most excellent ; and was wont 'o 
say, ' Every body knows this, that God is great and 
good, and that heaven is a blessed place ; I had rather 
hear how I may attain it.' And nothing pleased me so 
well as the doctrine of regeneration, and the marks of 
sincerity, because these subjects were suitable to me in 
that state ; but now I had rather read, hear, or medi- 
tate on God and heaven, than on any other subject ; for 
I perceive that it is the object that changes and elevates 
the mind, which will be like what it most frequently 
feeds upon ; and that it is not only useful to our com- 
fort to be much in heaven in our believing thoughts, 
but that it must animate all our other duties, and for- 
tify ua against every temptation and sinj and that a 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 127 



heavenly. 

'*I was once wont to meditate most on my own 
heart, and to dwell all at home, and look little higher. 
I was still poring either on my sins or wants, or exa- 
mining my sincerity ; but now, though I am greatly 
convinced of the need of heart-acquaintance and em- 
ployment, yet I see more need of a higher work j and 
that I should look oftener upon Christ, and God, and 
heaven, than upon my own heart. At home I can find 
distempers to trouble me, and some evidences of my 
peace ; but it is above that I must find matter of de- 
hght and joy, and love and peace itself. Therefore I 
would have one thought at home, upon myself and 
sins, and many thoughts above, upon the high, and 
amiable, and beatifying objects. 

" Heretofore 1 knew much less than now, and yet 
was not half so much acquainted with my ignorance. 
I had a great delight in the daily new discoveries 
which I made, and in the light which shined upon me, 
like a man that comes into a country where he never 
was before ; but I little knew either how imperfectly I 
understood those very points, whose discovery so much 
delighted me, nor how much might be said against 
them, nor how many things I was yet a stranger to; 
but now I find far greater darkness upon all things, 
and perceive how very little it is that we know in com- 
parison of that which we are ignorant of, and I have 
far meaner thoughts of my own understanding, though 
I must needs know that it is better furnished than it 
was then. 

" I now see more good and more evil in all men 
than heretofore I did. I see that good men are not so 
good as I once thought they were, but have more im- 



128 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

perfections; and that nearer approach, and fuller trial, 
doih make the best appear more weak and faulty than 
their admirers at a distance think. And I find that few 
are so bad as either their malicious enemies or censo- 
rious separating professors do imagine. 

" I less admire gifts of utterance and bare profes- 
sion of religion than I once did ; and have much more 
charity for many, who, by the want of gifts, do make 
an obscurer profession than they. I once thought that 
almost all that could pray movingly and fluently, and 
talk well of religion, were saints. But more observa- 
tion has opened to me what odious crimes may con- 
sist with high profession; and I have met with divers 
obscure persons, not noted for any extraordinary pro- 
fession or forwardness in religion, but only to live a 
quiet, blameless life, whom I have after found to have 
long lived, as far as I could discern, a truly godly and 
sanctified life; only their prayers and duties were, by 
accident, kept secret from other men's observation. 
Yet he that, upon this pretence, would confound the 
godly and the ungodly, ma}' as well go about to lay 
heaven and hell together. 

" I am not so narrow in my special love as hereto- 
fore. Being less censorious, and talking more than I 
did for saints, it must needs follow that 1 love more as 
saints than I did before. 

" I am much more sensible how prone many young 
professors are to spiritual pride and self-conceitedness, 
and unruliness and division, and so to prove the grief 
of their teachers, and firebrands in the church ; and 
how much of a minister's work lies in preventing this, 
and humbling and confirming such young inexperi- 
enf;ed professors, and keeping them in order in their 
progress in religion. 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 129 

" I am more deeply afflicted for the disagreements 
of Christians, than I was when I was a younger Chris- 
tian. Except the case of the infidel world, nothing is 
so sad and grievous to my thoughts as the case of the 
divided churches ; and therefore I am more deeply 
sensible of the sinfulness of those prelates and pastors 
of the churches who are the principal cause of these 
divisions. O how many millions of souls are kept by 
them in ignorance and ungodliness, and deluded by 
faction, as if it were true religion ! How is the conver- 
sion of infidels hindered by them, and Christ and re- 
ligion heinously dishonored ! 

" I am much less regardful of the approbation ol 
man, and set much lighter by contempt or applause, 
than I did long ago. I am often suspicious that this 
is not only from the increase of self-denial and humi- 
lity, but partly from my being glutted and surfeited 
with human applause; and all worldly things appear 
most vain and unsatisfactory when we have tried them 
most. But as far as I can perceive, the knowledge of 
man's nothingness, and God's transcendent greatness, 
with whom it is that I have most to do, and the sense 
of the brevity of human things, and the nearness of 
eternity, are the principal causes of this effect, which 
some have imputed to self-conceitedness and mo- 
roseness. 

" I am more and more pleased with a solitary life; 
and though, in a way of self-denial, I could submit to 
the most public life, for the service of God, when he 
requires it, and would not be unprofitable that I might 
be private ; yet, I must confess, it is much more pleas- 
ing to myself to be retired from the world, and to have 
very little to do with men, and to converse with God 
and conscience, and good books. 



130 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

"Though I was never much tempted to the shi of 
covetousness, yet my fear of dying was wont to tell 
me that I was not suthciently loosened from the world. 
But I find that it is comparatively very easy to me to 
be loose from this world, but hard to live by faith 
above. To despise earth is easy to me ; but not so easy 
to be acquainted and conversant with heaven. 1 have 
nothing in this world which I could not easily let go; 
but, to get satisfying apprehensions of the other world 
is the great and grievous difficulty. 

" I am much more apprehensive than long a§:o of 
the odiousness and danger of the sin of pride: scarce 
any sin appears more odious to me. Having daily 
more acquaintance with the lamentable naughtiness 
and frailty of man, and of the mischiefs of that sin, 
and especially in matters spiritual and ecclesiastical, 
I think, so far as any man is proud, he is kin to the 
devil, and a stranger to God and to himself. It is a 
wonder that it should be a possible sin, to men that 
still carry about with them, in soul and body, such 
humbling matter of remedy as we all do. 

" I more than ever lament the unhappiness of the 
nobility, gentry, and great ones of the world, who live 
in such temptation to sensuality, curiosity, and wast- 
ing of their time about a multitude of little things ; and 
whose lives are too often the transcript of the sins of 
Sodom — pride, fullness of bread, and abundance of idle- 
ness, and want of compassion to the poor. And I more 
value the life of the poor laboring man, but especially 
of him that hath neither poverty nor riches. 

" I am much more sensible than heretofore, of the 
breadth, and length, and depth of the radical, univer- 
sal, and odious sin of selfishnes.s, and therefore have 
written so much against it ; and of the excellency and 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 131 

necessity of self-denial, and of a public mind, and of 
loving our neighbor as ourselves. 

" I am more and more sensible that most controver- 
sies have more need of right stating than of debating ; 
and if my skill be increased in any thing, it is in nar- 
rowing controversies by explication, and separating 
the real from the verbal, and proving to many con- 
tenders that they in fact differ less than they think 
they do, 

"I am more solicitous tlian I have been about my 
duty to God, and less solicitous about his dealings with 
me, as being assured that he will do all things well, 
acknowledging the goodness of ail the declarations of 
his holiness, even in the punishment of man, and 
knowing that there is no rest but in the will and good- 
ness of God. 

"Though my habitual judgment, and resolution, 
and scope of life be still the same, j'-et I tind a great 
mutability as to actual apprehensions and degrees of 
grace; and consequently find that so mutable a thing 
as the mind of man would never keep itself, if God 
were not its keeper. 

"Thus much of the alterations of my soul, since 
my younger years, I thought best to give the reader, 
instead of all those experiences and actual motions and 
affections which I suppose him rather to have expec- 
ted an account of. And having transcribed thus much 
of a life which God has read, and conscience has read, 
and must further read, I humbly lament it, and beg 
pardon of it, as sinful, and too unequal and unprofit- 
able. And I warn the reader to amend that in his 
own, wdiich he finds to have been amiss in mine; con- 
fessing, also, that much has been amiss which I have 
not here particularly mentioned, and that I have not 



132 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

lived according to the abundant mercies of the Lord. 
But what I have recorded, has been especially to per- 
form my vows, and to declare his praise to all gen- 
erations, who has filled my days with his invaluable 
favors, and bound me to bless his name for ever. 

"But having mentioned the changes which I think 
were for the better, I must add, that as I confessed 
many of my sins before, so, I have been since guilty of 
many, which, because materially they seemed small, 
have had the less resistance, and yet, on the review, do 
trouble me more than if they had been greater, done 
in ignorance. It can be no small sin which is com- 
mitted against knowledge, and conscience, and deli- 
beration, wiiatever excuse it have. To have sinned 
whilst I preached and wrote against sin, and had such 
abundant and great obligations from God, and made 
so many promises against it, lays me very low ; not 
so much in fear of hell, as in great displeasure against 
myself, and such self-abhorrence as would cause re- 
venge against myself, were it not forbidden. When 
God forgives mo, I cannot for'^^ive myself; especially 
for any rash words or deeds, by which I have seemed 
injurious, and less tender and kind than I should have 
been to my near and dear relations, whose love abun 
dantly obliged me; when such are dead, though we 
never differed in point of interest, or any great matter, 
every sour or cross provoking word which I gave them 
makes me almost irreconcileable to myself. 

" I mention all these faults that they may be a warn- 
ing to others to take heed, as they call on myself for 
repentance and watchfulness. O Lord, for the merits, 
and sacrifice, and intercession of Christ, be merciful 
to me a sinner, and forgive my known and unknown 
sins ! " 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 133 

Dr Bales has drawn a full-length portrait of the 
character of his venerable friend in his funeral sermon, 
from which some extracts will now be given. 

"He had not the advantage of academical educa- 
tion ; but, by the Divine blessing upon his rare dex- 
terity and diligence, his eminence in sacred knowledge 
was such as few in the university ever arrive to." 

" Conversion is the excellent work of Divine grace: 
the efficacy of the means is from the Supreme Mover. 
But God usually makes those ministers successful in 
that blessed work, whose principal design and delight 
is to glorify him in the saving of souls. This was the 
reigning affection in his heart; and he was extraordi- 
narily qualified to obtain his end. 

" His prayers were an effusion of the most lively 
melting expressions, growing out of his intimate ar- 
dent affections to God : from the abundance of his 
heart, his lips spake. His soul took wing for heaven, 
and wrapped up the souls of others with him. Never 
did I see or hear a holy minister address himself to 
God with more reverence and humility, with respect 
to his glorious greatness ; never with more zeal and 
fervency, correspondent to the infinite moment of his 
requests ; nor with more filial affiance in the Divine 
mercy." 

As a specimen of his prayers, two quotations from 
liis published writings may be given. Addressing the 
Divine Spirit, he says, " As thou art the Agent and 
Advocate of Jesus my Lord, O plead his cause effec- 
tually in my soul against the suggestions of Satan and 
my unbelief; and finish his healing, saving work, and 
let not the flesh or world prevail. Be in me the resi- 
dent witness of my Lord, the Author of my prayers, 
the Spirit of adoption, the seal of God, and the earnest 

L. B. 12 



134 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

of mine inheritance. Let not my nights be no long, and 
my days so short, nor sin echpse those beams which 
liave often illuminated my soul. Without these, books 
are senseless scrawls, studies are dreams, learning is 
a glow-worm, and wit is but wantonness, impertinence 
cind folly. Transcribe those sacred precepts on ir.y 
heart, which by thy dictates and inspirations are re- 
corded in thy holy word. I refuse not thy help for 
tears and groans ; but O slied abroad that love upon my 
lieart, which may keep it in a continual life of love. 
Teach me the work wliich I must do in heaven ; re- 
fresh my soul with the delights of holiness, and the 
joys which arise from the believing hopes of the ever- 
lasting joys. Exercise my heart and tongue in the 
lioly praises of my Lord. Strengthen me in sufferings; 
and conquer the terrors of death and hell. Make me 
the more heavenly, by how much the faster I am hast- 
ening to heaven ; and let my last thoughts, words, and 
works on earth, be most like to tliose which shall be 
my first in the state of glorious immortality; where 
the kingdom is delivered up to the Fatlier, and God 
will for ever be all, and in all; of whom, and tlirougli 
whom, and to whom, are all tilings, to whom be glo- 
ry for ever. Amen.'' 

Another specimen may be given from Baxter's con- 
clusion of his work on the "Saints' Rest." 

" O Thou, the merciful Father of spirits, the attrac- 
tive of love, and ocean of delight ! draw up these dros- 
sy hearts unto thyself, and keep tliem there till llu;y 
are spiritualized and refined ! Second thy servant's 
weak endeavors, and persuade those tiiat read these 
lines to the practice of this delightful, heavenly work! 
O ! suffer not the soul of thy most unworthy servant 
to be a stranger to those joys which he describes to 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 135 

Others ; but keep me, while I remain on earth, in daily 
breathing after thee, and in a believing, affectionate 
walking with thee. And, when thou comest, let me be 
found so doing ; not serving my flesh, nor asleep with 
my lamp unfurnished, but waiting and longing for my 
Lord's return. Let those who shall read these pages, 
not merely read the fruit of my studies, but the breath- 
ing of my active hope and love ; that if my heart were 
open to their view, they might there read thy love 
most deeply engraven with a beam from the face of 
the Son of God ; and not find vanity, or lust, or pride 
within, where the words of life appear without ; that 
so these lines may not witness against me ; but pro- 
ceeding from the heart of the writer, may they be 
effectual, through thy grace, upon the heart of the 
reader, and so be the savior of life to both." 

Dr. Bates says : " In his sermons there was a rare 
union of arguments and motives to convince the mind 
and gain the heart. All the fountains of reason and 
persuasion were open to his discerning eye. There 
was no resisting the force of his discourses, without 
denying reason and Divine revelation. He had a mar- 
vellous felicity and copiousness in speaking. There 
M'as a noble negligence in his style; for his great mind 
could not stoop to the affected eloquence of words : he 
despised flashy oratory, but his expressions were clear 
and powerful ; so convincing the understanding, so 
entering into the soul, so engaging the affections, that 
those were as deaf as adders who were not charmed 
by so wise a charmer. He was animated by the Holy 
Spirit, and breathed celestial fire, to inspire heat and 
iife into dead sinners, and to melt the obdurate in their 
frozen tomF)3. Methinks I still hear him speak those 
powerful words : ' A wretch that is condemned to die 



13G LIFE OF BAXTER. 

to-morrow cannot forget it: and yet poor sinners, that 
continually are uncertain to live an hour, and certain 
speedily to see the majesty of the Lord, to their incon- 
ceivable joy or terror, as sure as they now live on 
earth, can forget these things, for which they have 
their memory ; and which one would think, should 
drown the matters of this world, as the report of a 
cannon does a whisper, or as the sun obscures the poor- 
est glow-worm. O wonderful stupidity of the unrenew- 
ed soul ! O wonderful folly and madness of the ungod- 
ly ! That ever men can forget— I say again, that they 
can forget eternal joy, eternal wo, and the eternal God, 
and the place of their eternal unchangeable abodes, 
when they stand even at the door ; and there is but 
that thin veil of flesh between them and that amazing 
sight, that eternal gulf, and they are daily dying and 
stepping in." 

To this may be added a quotation from a sermon 
preached before the judges at the assizes : '' Honora- 
ble, worshipful, and well-beloved, it is a weighty em- 
ployment that occasions your meeting here to-day. 
The estates and lives of men are in your hands. But 
it is another kind of judgment which you are all 
hastening towards ; when judges and juries, the ac- 
cusers and the accused, must all appear upon equal 
terms, for the final decision of a far greater cause. 
The case that is then and there to be determined, is not 
whether you shall have lands or no lands, life or no 
life, in our natural sense ; but whether you shall have 
heaven or hell, salvation or damnation, and endless life 
of glory with God and the Redeemer, and the angels 
of heaven, or an endless life of torment with devils 
and ungodly men. As sure as you now sit on those 
seats, you shall shortly all appear before the Judge ol 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 137 

all the world, and tliere receive an irreversible sen- 
tence to an unchangeable state of happiness or misery. 
This is the great business that should presently call up 
your most serious thoughts, and set all the powers of 
your souls on work for the most effectual preparation ; 
that, if you are men, you may acquit yourselves like 
men, for the preventing of that dreadful doom which 
miprepared souls must there expect. The greatest of 
your secular affairs are but dreams and toys to this. 
Were you at every assize to determine causes of no 
lower value than the crowns and kingdoms of the mo- 
narchs of the earth, it were but as children's games to 
this. If any man of you believe not this, he is worse 
than the devil that tempteth him to unbelief; and let 
him know that unbelief is no prevention, nor will put 
off the day, or hinder his appearance ; but will render 
certain his condemnation at that appearance. 

" He that knows the law and the fact, may know be- 
fore your assize what will become of every prisoner, if 
the proceedings be all just, as in our case they will cer- 
tainly be. Christ will judge according to his laws; know, 
therefore, whom the law condemns or justifies, and 
you may know whom Christ will condemn or justify. 
And seeing all this is so, does it not concern us all to 
make a speedy trial of ourselves in preparation for this 
final trial ? I shall, for your own sakes, therefore, take 
the boldness, as the officer of Christ, to summon you to 
appear before yourselves, and keep an assize this day 
in your own souls, and answer at the bar of conscience 
to what shall be charged upon you. Fear not the trial ; 
for it is not conclusive, final, or a peremptory irrever- 
sible sentence that must now pass. Yet slight it not ; 
for it is a necessary preparative to that which is final 
and irreversible." 

L. B. 12* 



138 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

After describing the vanities of the world, he bursts 
forth : " What ! shall we prefer a mole-hill before a 
kingdom? x\ shadow before the substance? An hour 
before eternity? Nothing before all things? Vanity 
and vexation before felicity ? The cross of Christ hath 
set up such a sun as quite darkeneth the light of 
worldly glory. Though earth were something, if there 
were no better to be had, it is nothing when heaven 
standeth by." 

Dr. Bates further remarks : " Besides, his wonderful 
diligence in catechising the particular families under 
his charge was exceeding useful to plant religion in 
them. Personal instruction, and application of divine 
truths, has an excellent advantage and efficacy to in- 
sinuate and infuse religion into the minds and hearts 
of men, and, by the conversion of parents and masters, 
to reform whole families that are under their imme- 
diate direction and government. His unwearied indus- 
try to do good to his flock, was answered by corres- 
pondent love and thankfulness. He was an angel in 
their esteem. He would often speak with great com- 
placence of their dear affections; and, a little before 
his death, said, ' He believed they were more expres- 
sive of kindness to him, than the Christian converts 
were to the apostle Paul, by what appears in his 
writings.' " 

" His books, for their number and the variety of mat- 
ter in them, make a library. They contain a treasure 
of controversial, casuistical, positive, and practical di- 
vinity. Of them I shall relate the words of one whose 
exact judgment, joined with his moderation, will give 
a great value to his testimony ; they are those of Dr. 
Wilkins, afterwards bishop of Chester. He said that 
Mr. Baxter had ' cultivated every subject he handled j' 



Life of Baxter. 139 

and 'if he had lived in the primitive times, he had been 
one of the fathers of the church,' and ' that it was 
enough for one age to produce such a person as Mr. 
Baxter.' Indeed, he had such an amplitude in his 
thoughts, such a vivacity of imagination, and such so- 
lidity and depth of judgment as rarely meet in one 
man. His inquiring mind was freed from the servile 
dejection and bondage of an implicit faith. He adhered 
to the Scriptures as the perfect rule of faith, and 
searched whether the doctrines received and taught 
were consonant to it. This is the duty of every Chris- 
tian according to his capacity, especially of minis- 
ters, and the necessary means to open the mind for 
Divine knowledge, and for the advancement of the 
truth." 

" His books of practical divinity have been effectual 
for more numerous conversions of sinners to God than 
any printed in our time; and while the church remains 
on earth, will be of continual efficacy to recover lost 
souls. There is a vigorous pulse in them that keeps the 
reader awake and attentive. His book of the 'Saints' 
Everlasting Rest,' was written by him when languish- 
ing in the suspense of life and death, but has the sig- 
natures of his holy and vigorous mind. To allure our 
desires, he unveils the sanctuary above, and discovers 
the glory and joys of the blessed in the Divine pre- 
sence, by a light so strong and lively, that all the glt- 
tering vanities of this world vanish in that comparison, 
and a sincere believer will despise them, as one of ma- 
ture age does the toys and baubles of children. To ex- 
cite our fear he removes the skreen, and makes the 
everlasting fire of hell so visible, and represents the 
tormenting passions of the damned in those dreadful 
colors, that, if duly considered, M'ould check and 



140 LIFE or BAXTER. 

control the unbridled licentious appetites of the most 
sensual." 

Baxter's practical writings alone occupy four pon- 
derous folio, or twenty-two octavo volumes. If a com- 
plete collection of his controversial and practical writ- 
ings were made, they would occupy fully sixty volumes 
of the same size. " His industry was almost incredible 
in his studies. He had a sensitive nature, desirous of 
ease, as others have, and faculties like others, liable to 
tire ; yet such was the continual application of him- 
self to his great work, as if the labor of one day had 
supplied strength for another, and the willingness of 
the spirit had supported the weakness of the flesh." 
His painful and incessant afflictions would have pre- 
vented an ordinary man from attempting any thing ; 
but he persevered with unwearied industry to the close 
of his days. His life was occupied, too, in active labors. 
In camps and at court, in his parish and in prison, at 
home and abroad, his efforts were unremitting and 
often successful. 

Some idea of his sufferings may be formed from the 
summary of his diseases given by his late biographer. 

" His constitution was naturally sound, but he was 
always very thin and weak, and early affected with 
nervous debility. At fourteen years of age he was 
seized with the small-pox, and soon after, by improper 
exposure to the cold, he was affected with a violent 
catarrh and cough. This continued for about two years, 
and was followed by spitting of blood and other phthi- 
sical symptoms. He became, from that time, the sport 
of medical treatment and experiment. One physician 
prescribed one mode of cure, and another a different 
one ; till, from first to last, he had tlie advice of no less 
than thirty-six professors of tlic healing art. By their 



LIFE OF BAXTER. Ill 

orders he look driicrs without number, till, from ex- 
periencing how little they could do for him, he for- 
sook them entirely, except some particular symptom 
urged him to seek present relief. He was diseased lite- 
rally from head to foot; his stomach flatulent and acidu- 
lous ; violent rheumatic head-aches ; prodigious bleed- 
ing at the nose ; his legs swelled and dropsical, &c. 
His physicians called it hypochondria, he himself con- 
sidered it prcematura seneclus, premature old age; so 
that at twenty he had the symptoms, in addition to 
disease, of fourscore ! To be more particular would 
be disagreeable ; and to detail the innumerable reme- 
dies to which he was directed, or which he employed 
himself, would add little to the stock of medical know- 
ledge. He was certainly one of the most diseased and 
afflicted men that ever reached the full ordinary limits 
of human life. How, in such circumstances, he was 
capable of the exertions he almost incessantly made, 
appears not a little mysterious. His behavior under 
them is a poignant reproof to many, who either sink 
entirely under common afflictions, or give way to 
indolence and trifling. For the acerbity of his temper 
we are now prepared with an ample apology. That 
he should have been occasionally fretful, and impatient 
of contradiction, is not surprising, considering the 
state of the earthen vessel in which his noble and ac- 
tive spirit was deposited. No man was more sensible 
of his obliquities of disposition than himself; and no 
man, perhaps, ever did more to maintain the ascend- 
ancy of Christian principle over the strength and way- 
wardness of passion." 

The conviction that his time would be short, urged 
him to prosecute his labors with unwearied assiduity. 
Love to immortal souls, too, exerted its powerful in- 



142 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

fluence. This ''love to ihe souls of men," says Dr. 
Bates, " was the peculiar character of his spirit. In 
this he imitated and honored our Savior, who prayed, 
died, and lives for the salvation of souls. All his na- 
tural and supernatural endowments were subservient 
to that blessed end. It was his meat and drink, the life 
and joy of his life to do good to souls." 

Disinterestedness formed no unimportant feature of 
his character, and was strikingly marked in his refusal 
of ecclesiastical preferment; his self-denying engage- 
ments respecting his stipend at Kidderminster; his 
gratuitous labors ; abundant alms-giving ; and the wide 
distribution of his works among the poor and destitute. 
So long as he had a bare maintenance he was content. 
He rejoiced in being able to benefit others by his pro- 
perty or his labors. 

Fidelity to his Divine Master, and to his cause, was 
conspicuous in all his engagements. He tendered his 
advice, or administered his reproofs with equal faith- 
fulness, whether in court or camp ; to the king or to 
the protector; before parliament or his parishioners; 
in his conversation or his correspondence. He could 
not suffer sin upon his neighbor ; and whatever he con- 
ceived would be for the benefit of those concerned, that 
he faithfully, and without compromise, administered. 
In his preaching he " shunned not to declare the whole 
counsel of God." 

Dr. Bates remarks : '• He that was so solicitous for 
the salvation of others, was not negligent of his own. 
In him the virtues of the contemplative and active life 
were eminently united. His time was spent in com- 
munion with God, and in charity to men. He lived 
above the world, and in solitude and silence conversed 
with God. The frequent and serious meditation of 



LIFE OF BAXTER. 143 

eternal things was the powerful means to make his 
heart holy and heavenly, and from thence his conver- 
sation, liis life was a practical sermon, a drawing ex- 
ample. There was an uir of humility and sanctity in 
his mortified countenance ; and his deportment was be- 
coming a stranger upon earth and a citizen of heaven." 

The following passage from his interesting impor- 
tant work, entitled "The Divine Life," may be con- 
sidered OS a portrait of his own spiritual character. 

" To walk with God,'' he says, " is a plirase so high, 
that I should have feared the guilt of arrogance in 
iijsing it, if I had not found it in the Holy Scriptures. 
it is a phrase that imports so liigh and holy a frame 
of soul, and expresses such high and holy actions, that 
the naming of it strikes my heart with reverence, as if 
I liad heard the voice to Moses, ' Put off thy shoes 
from off thy feet, for the place wliereon thou standest 
is holy ground.' Methinks he that shall say to me, 
Come, see a man that walks with God, doth call mo 
to see one that is next unto an angel or glorified soul. 
It is a far more reverend object in mine eye than ten 
thousand lords or princes, considered only in their 
earthly glory. It is a wiser action for people to run 
and crowd together to see a man that walks with God, 
than to see the pompous train of princes, their enter- 
tainments, or their triumph. 0, happy man that walks 
with God, though neglected and contemned by all 
:d)Out him ! What blessed sights does he daily see I 
What ravishing tidings, what pleasant melody does he 
daily hear ! What delectable food does he daily taste ! 
He sees, by faith, the God, t!ie glory which the blessed 
spirits see at hand by nearest intuition ! He sees that 
in a glass, and darkly, which they behold with open 
face ! He sees the glorious majesty of his Creator, tlie 



144 LIFE OF BAXTER. 

eternal King, the Cause of causes, the Composer, Up- 
holder, Preserver, and Governor of all worlds ! He be- 
holds the wonderful methods of his providence; and 
wliat he cannot fully see he admires, and waits for 
the time when that also shall be open to his view ! He 
sees, by faith, the world of spirits, the hosts that attend 
the throne of God ; their perfect righteousness, their 
full devotedness to God ; their ardent love, their flam- 
ing zeal, their ready and cheerful obedience, their dig- 
nity and shining glory, in which the lowest of them 
exceed that which the disciples saw on Moses and 
Elias, when they appeared on the holy mount and 
talked with Christ ! He hears by faith the heavenly 
concert, the high and harmonious songs of praise, the 
joyful triumphs of crowned saints, tne sweet comme- 
morations of the things that were done and suffered 
on earth, with the praises of Him that redeemed them 
by his blood, and made them kings and priests unto 
God. Herein he has sometimes a sweet foretaste of the 
everlastrng pleasures which, though it be but little, as 
Jonathan's honey on the end of his rod, or as the clus- 
ters brought from Canaan into the wilderness; yet is 
jnore excellent than all the delights of sinners." 

His character may be summed up in the words of 
Mr. Orme : " Among his contemporaries there were 
men of equal talents, of more amiable dispositions, and 
of greater learning. But there was no man in whom 
there appears to have been so little of earth, and so 
much of heaven ; so small a portion of the alloy of hu- 
manity, and so large a portion of all that is celestial. 
He felt scarcely any of the attractions of this world, 
but felt and manifested the most powerful affinity for 
the world to come." 

END.