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PRESENTED BY
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THE
WHOLE WORKS
REV. JOHN HOWE, M.A.
WITH
A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR.
IN EIGHT VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
X
I. THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION OVER
THE INVISIBLE WORLD.
II. THE LIVING TEMPLE.
CONTAINING
III. SELF-DEDICATION.
IV. TWO SERMONS ON YIELDING OUR-
SELVES TO GOD, FROM ROM. (J. 13.
EDITED BY THE
REV. JOHN HUNT, OF CHICHESTER.
IContton:
PUBLISHED BY
F. WESTLEY, 10, STATIONERS' COURT AND AVE-MARIA LANE:
AND SOLD BY WAUGH AND INNES, EDINBURGH; AND
CHALMERS AND COLLINS, GLASGOW.
1822
B Bmdey, Bolt Court, Fleet Street.
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
IT must be acknowledged, by every impartial observer,
that the present times are distinguished by many signs
favourable to the interests of genuine Christianity, Of
these, an unprecedented demand for the works of our
most eminent divines cannot be viewed as the least
considerable. It is an evidence that the Master of the
house is not forgotten, when there is an eagerness
to converse with those of his servants who were most
eminently devoted to his honour, " who being dead yet
speak : the end of whose conversation is Jesus Christ,
the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." These are
they who once shone as lights in the world, whose
writings still shed a light on the path of immortality,
and whose memories shall diffuse a fragrance to gene-
ts o
rations yet unborn. And when their works are closely
studied, may we not expect that their successors in of-
fice will imbibe their spirit, emulate their zeal, and, by
a close imitation of their holy example, perpetuate their
excellencies in " living epistles" to the latest posterity?
It is thus that the cause of God and truth, which they
so ably defended, and for which many of them uot only
preached and wrote, but suffered and died, will be main-.
tained with accumulated strength, and by the accession
of new friends from aire to age, continue to exert its
VI EDITOR S PREFACE.
energies until the foundations of the spiritual temple
are commensurate with the boundaries of the world ;
and the sacred edifice which is composed of " lively
stones" shall be completed, and the " Head-stone there-
of brought forth with shoutings, crying, Grace, Grace,
unto it."
These considerations render it a pleasant reflection to
the Editor, that he has been led by a variety of incidents
to republish the works of the Rev. John Howe. Could
he flatter himself that the work will be executed in a
manner worthy of him whose name it hears, it would
give him the confidence of a more than ample reward,
in the thanks and patronage of the religious Public.
For him to offer a eulogy on a name already so just-
ly celebrated, and of which so much has been written
by men of the first eminence in the church of Christ,
would not only be superfluous, but arrogant. To say
any thing of the manner in which the present edition
of his works is executed, would be to anticipate the
judgment which every reader loves to form for himself*
At first it was intended only to publish a volume
of manuscripts, part of which was communicated
by a friend, and part obtained through the favour
of the trustees of a public depository* in which they
are still preserved, and where the Editor was kind-
ly permitted to transcribe them. But a uniform
edition of his whole works having never been print-
ed, and the folio edition (which contains not more
than two-thirds of his works already published) being
so scarce that it is difficult to obtain a copy, and that
only at a price adequate to the purchase of the whole
in the present edition, the Editor yielded to the soli-
*Dr. Williams's Library.
editor's PREFACE. "Vll
citations of many of his brethren in the ministry, ani
commenced the present publication. The first volume
he wishes to be considered as a specimen of the whole ;
and pledges himself to pay every attention to preserve
the paper and type equally good. He has suffered
himself to take no liberties with the style of his Author,
it being his wish to preserve the mental productions of
Howe in his own language, and to present this great
man to the world in the literary costume of his own
age. His style has been charged with obscurity.
This charge, the Editor conceives, is not well founded.
That it does not always flow easily must be admitted :
but perhaps this applies chiefly to " The Living Tem-
ple," the most metaphysical of his pieces, and in which
some degree of harshness of style may be attributed
to the nature of the subject. Where this could be re-
moved by transposing a word, or member of a sentence,
or by supplying an ellipsis, which is frequently the
case, the Editor considered himself not only warranted,
but bound to do it, as a service due both to the Author
and the Public. But when the sublimity of Mr.
Howe's mind, the brilliancy of his thoughts, the con-
clusiveness of his reasoning, and the force of his lan-
guage, are considered, that man is not to be envied,
who cannot read his works with delight; and if no
pleasure be excited, it discovers neither a very com-
prehensive nor highly cultivated mind.
Let the young minister who wishes to catch the true
spirit of his office, and to cultivate that style of preach-
ing which is the most calculated to honour God and do
good to immortal souls, read, and read again, the ser-
mons of Howe, (especially those on reconciliation and
on yielding ourselves to God,) and is it possible he can
fail to attain the desired object ?
VJ11 EDITORS PREFACE.
It has not been judged necessary to adhere closely
to the order observed in the folio edition. It will be
one object to make each volume contain nearly the same
number of pages ; but the arrangement will be regu-
lated chiefly by the nature of the subjects. Except
this, the only alteration which the Editor has made, he
is convinced the Public will consider an advantage.
This is in the mode of distinguishing the different sub-
jects discussed in the several treatises. These are mark-
ed by the same figures in the head of contents of each
chapter, by which they are distinguished in the body
of the work. This will afford facility to the reader,
and prevent that confusion which must have arisen
from a want of greater attention to this subject in the
former editions. The Life of the Author, with an In-
dex to the whole, and a List of Subscribers, will ac-
company the last volume. A Portrait will be given in
the course of the publication. No pains nor expense
will be spared to secure respectability to the execution
of the work, and to render it still worthy of the high
place it has long held in the library of the practical
Christian, and of the theological student.
Titchfield, JOHN HUNT.
September, 10, 1610.
MEMOIR.
He who attempts to prefix, to such a mass of fine
thought as this Edition of Howe's Works presents,
a Memoir of the author, must labour under the en-
feebling impression of being sure to disappoint the
expectation which the volumes will excite. It is,
however, consoling to reflect, that none who com-
bine piety with intellect can rise without pleasure
and improvement from the perusal of a life which
presents the loftiest results of profound study,
though in the most stormy period of our history ;
while the political connections into which our Divine
was drawn by the force of events, left his character
untainted even by the suspicion of earthly aims ; so
that his religion shines with the unusual lustre ac-
quired by a successful struggle against the pride of
intellect and the ambition of the world.
Loughborough, in Leicestershire, gave birth to
Mr. Howe on the 17th of May, 1630. His father,
who was a man of great piety, was the parochial
minister of the town, and his mother was distin-
vol. viii. b
11
guished by talents so superior, that it is probable we
owe to her early culture that pre-eminence of mind
which the volumes now presented to the public suf-
ficiently attest. Archbishop Laud, who had given
to the elder Mr. Howe the living, must have been
disappointed in the incumbent ; for he proved a
non-conformist to those ceremonies which the
metropolitan enforced with the zeal of a man who
sincerely mistook them for the beauties of holiness.
The same hand, therefore, which had committed the
flock to his care, drove him from the important post ;
and while other pastors, deprived, for similar causes,
of opportunities for serving the Redeemer in their
native land, obeyed his command by fleeing to Hol-
land and America, the subject of this memoir was
taken by his father to Ireland.
Though it does not appear in what part of the
sister island the family took refuge, we are informed
that while there they were in danger of having their
blood mingled with that of the Protestants, which
flowed so profusely wherever the arms of the Catholics
were triumphant. But as the rebels were compelled
to raise the siege of the place, our author was
spared to the church and the world. Finding there-
fore that the civil war, which raged so furiously
there, made Ireland unfit to afford them an asylum,
the family crossed the Channel to Lancaster.
In this town Mr. Howe laid the foundations of
that education which he afterwards raised to
heights so noble. With regret we acknowledge our
inability to record the name of the tutor, or to point
Ill
out the seminary that claims the honour of a pupil
whom all would be proud to own.
His early proficiency is attested by his having
been at Cambridge, taken a degree, and removed to
Oxford by the time he was eighteen years of age.
He first entered Christ's College, Cambridge, where
he had the happiness to meet with scholars so dis-
tinguished as Dr. Henry More, and Dr. Cudworth,
author of The Intellectual System. Becoming a
great admirer of these associates of his early studies,
he maintained a close friendship with Dr. More, till
death removed him from the world ; and to this
friendship has been ascribed that tinge of Platonism
which is observable in the more laboured produc-
tions of Mr. Howe.
Having graduated at Cambridge as Bachelor of
Arts, he removed to Brazen Nose College, Oxford.
Wood informs us, that he was Bible Clerk there in
Michaelmas Term 1648. In the following year he
took, according to a common practice, the same
degree in his new college, to which he had already
been admitted at Cambridge. * The diligence and
success with which he pursued his studies, together
with the excellence of his character, procured his
election to a fellowship in Magdalen College. By
the Parliament visitors he was made Demy, which
Wood seems to mention as a reflection on him ; but
to those who have marked the honourable integrity
which distinguished Howe's conduct through the
* Wood's Fasti Oxonienses, Vol. II. 750. Bachelors of Arts, 1749.
Jan. 18, Howe, John, Brazen Nose College.
b 2
IV
whole of life, something more will be required to
blemish his character than mere insinuation. It
would be difficult to find a person less likely to
worm himself into another man's place, than the sub-
ject of this memoir.
Howe, formed for friendship, found here, as at
Cambridge, men worthy to claim the honour of
being his friends. Some of them were kindred
spirits, not merely as scholars, but also as Christian
ministers, who afterwards shared with him the
weight of the cross which non-conformity was called
to bear. Distinct mention is due to Theophilus Gale ;
Thomas Danson, Chaplain of Christ Church, and
afterwards fellow of .Magdalen, who became at
length pastor of a dissenting church at Abingdon in
Berkshire; and to Samuel Blower, who, Calamy
says, died pastor of a congregation of dissen-
ters in the same town. This latter was fond of
expressing his attachment to Mr. Howe, observing,
whenever the name was mentioned in company,
" We two were born in the same town, went to the
same school, and were of the same College in the
University." To these companions of Mr. Howe's
academic walks should be added, John Spilsbury,
who was afterwards ejected for non-conformity from
Bromsgrove in Worcestershire ; with whom the
author of The Living Temple maintained a corres-
pondence at once intimate and endeared, until death
separated for a while these bosom friends.
The author of The Non-conformists Memorial
mentions also, that besides two of the former per-
sons, Wood neglects to notice in his Fasti two
others who were graduates while Howe was at Cam-
bridge, George Porter and James Ashhurst, who
died at Newington Green, near London. These
omissions have been supposed to be designed at-
tempts to diminish the apparent number of those
who sacrificed their interest to their sincere disap-
probation of the established church.
The President of Magdalen College, at the time
that Howe held his fellowship there, was Dr. Thomas
Goodwin, whose well known principles might in-
duce an expectation that this fellow would have
found himself at home in the church which the
President had formed from the pious students of the
College. But though it appears that Howe had
already adopted those independent principles on
which the church was formed, he did not offer him-
self to become one of its members.. When Dr.
Goodwin expressed to him in private his disappoint-
ment at being deprived of the fellowship of one
whom he should have deemed so well fitted and
disposed to join their church, Mr. Howe informed
him, that a report concerning some peculiarities, on
which they were said to lay too much stress,
had induced him to keep silence on that sub-
ject. He assured the Doctor, that while he had no
fondness for these things himself, he was not dis-
posed to quarrel with those who had, but should be
happy to join their society, provided they would
admit him on catholic principles. That Dr. Good-
win has been unjustly condemned as a bigot to the
VI
most rigid independency is manifest, from the cor-
dial manner in which he now embraced Mr. Howe,
and the assurance he gave him, that he should not
only himself welcome this new member on these
liberal terms, but could also pledge himself for the
satisfaction it would afford to the rest of the church.
What these peculiarities were, which kept such a
man as Mr. Howe from joining the religious society
which in other respects he most approved, we are
not told ; but they afford an opportunity of display-
ing the wisdom and dignity of that mind which,
while it become a convert to a rising sect, guarded
itself against the danger of losing its catholic charity
towards other Christians ; and of eliciting a truth
honourable to the society, that they knew how prac-
tically to distinguish between regulations edifying
to themselves, and terms of communion to be im-
posed on the consciences of others.
Mr. Howe now acquired that well-earned reputa-
tion, both in his own College and through the whole
University, which is known by its operating as a
stimulus to increased exertion. Previously to July
1652, when he took the degree of M.A. in his 22d
year, he had gone through a course of philosophy,
conversed closely with the heathen moralists— read
over the accounts we have remaining of Pagan theo-
logy, the writings of the schoolmen, and several
systems and common-places of the Reformers, and
the divines that succeeded them. He also informed
a person, who told it to Dr. Calamy, that he had
at that time gone through a course of study of the
Vll
scriptures, from which he had drawn up for himself
a body of theology that he afterwards saw very little
occasion to alter, in order to adapt it to the systems
of other divines.
The instructive and original glosses which Howe
often throws on the Scriptures, and indeed the air
of originality and independent thinking, combined
with profound deference for inspired authority, which
pervades the Theological Lectures that form the
volumes of this edition, furnish the highest eulogium
on this mode of study.
It is probable that Mr. Howe's family continued
in Lancashire till this time, for as soon as he had
taken his last degree, he went into that county, and
was ordained by Mr. Charles Herle in the paro-
chial edifice of Winwick, which is pronounced, by
Wood, one of the richest churches in England. Mr.
Herle, whose reputation was so great, that he was
on the death of Dr. Twisse chosen prolocutor of
the Westminster assembly of divines, had several
chapelries under his, and, as the minister of these,
officiated at Mr. Howe's ordination. The latter used
often to say that few in modern times had so primi-
tive an ordination as himself ; believing that Mr.
Herle was a scriptural bishop, and that in the con-
currence of those ministers who assisted him there
was the laying on of the hands of the Presbytery of
which the apostle speaks.*
Divine Providence now unexpectedly removed Mr.
Howe to the opposite extremity of the kingdom, by
* 1 Tim. iv. 14.
V11I
calling him to Great Torrington in Devonshire. This
is pronounced, by a competent judge of such matters,
a donative or curacy belonging to Christ Church
Oxford, but equal to one held by institution. From
Torrington, Mr. Theophilus Powel was ejected in
1646, when, Dr. Walker says, " he was succeeded
by the famous independent, Mr. Lewis Stukely,".
who, removing to Exeter, where he gathered an
independent church that worshipped in the Cathe-
dral, created the vacancy which Mr. Howe was
called to fill.
, He entered upon the full exercise of his ministry
with that ardour and ability which had charac-
terized his preparatory studies, and soon reaped the
fruits of his diligence in the sight of a flourishing
charge. Several of the congregation had been in
the habit of celebrating the Lord's Supper, as mem-
bers of a church at Biddeford, of which Mr. William
Bartlett, a particular college friend of Mr. Howe,
was pastor. Whether this arose from dissatisfaction
with Mr. Stukely, or from the strength of a prior
attachment to Mr. Bartlett, it gave way to the
high regard they entertained for Mr. Howe, to whose
care their former pastor gladly resigned this portion
of his flock.
To those who have become at all acquainted
with Mr. Howe's spirit, it is unnecessary to say that,
far from drawing around him a little circle and
limiting his labours or affections to the people of
his immediate charge, he formed connexions of
friendship and usefulness through all the county,
IX
where he soon attracted general esteem. Among
the ministers of Devon, universal suffrage directed
him to Mr. George Hughes, of Plymouth, as a man
of pre-eminent worth ; and the reception which Mr.
Howe found in this family led to his marriage with
Mr. Hughes's daughter, March 1, 1654. From subse-
quent occurrences in this Memoir, it will appear that
the match was as propitious as the pious connexion
in which it originated might lead us to expect.
The father and son-in-law maintained a weekly
correspondence by letters written in Latin, the
strain of which may in some measure be guessed by
a passage which occurred in one of them : " Sit
ros cceli super habitaculum vestrum," " May the
dew of heaven fall on your dwelling :" which has
been brought into notice, because on that very morn-
ing on which it was received from Plymouth, a fire
that threatened to consume Mr. Howe's residence
was extinguished by mean of a violent rain.
But the comfortable connexion which Mr. Howe
had now formed, both with the church to which he
ministered and the family to which he was united,
was destined to be disturbed by an event that
changed the whole colour of his future life. Having
occasion to go to London, he was detained there
longer than he intended, and going one Lord's day
to the chapel at Whitehall, his strikingly prepos-
sessing countenance attracted the perspicacious eye
of Cromwell, who was then Protector. Calamy
says, that Cromwell knew by the garb that this was
a country minister, though it does not appear by
what garb a rural pastor was known in those days.
The Protector having sent a person to request an
interview after the public worship was closed, desired
Mr. Howe to preach before him on the following
Lord's day. To Mr. Howe's expressions of sur-
prise and assurances that he was utterly unprepared,
Cromwell replied, that it was vain to frame ex-
cuses, for he would take no denial. Mr. Howe
pleaded, that having dispatched the business for
which he came to town, he was now going home,
and could not be detained without inconvenience.
What great inconvenience would result from the
delay, said Cromwell ? My people, replied Howe,
are very kind to me, and they would think I slighted
them and undervalued their esteem, if I delayed to
return to them. To obviate this difficulty the
Protector promised to write to them himself, and to
send a person down to supply their pastor's place.
Mr. Howe's first sermon induced Cromwell to press
for a second and a third ; till at length, after much
free conversation, he whose word was like that of a
king, armed with power, told the country pastor
that he must stay and be domestic chaplain at the
seat of government. Mr. Howe's reluctance availed
nothing, for a successor, with whom Cromwell
pledged himself to satisfy the congregation, was sent
to Torrington ; and Mrs. Howe, with the rest of the
family, were brought to Whitehall, where several of
Mr. Howe's children were born.
These most critical moments of Mr. Howe's life
served only to elicit his superior worth ; he dis-
XI
played that happy combination of prudence with
integrity, which proved that while he had not
courted this promotion to serve his own interests,
he was awake to the opportunities which Providence
had thus afforded him, of promoting the welfare of
his country, the church, and the world. His reputa-
tion as a preacher did honour to the discernment
which placed him in this conspicuous post. He was
chosen Lecturer of St. Margaret's, Westminster;
and the tone of simple dignity which prevailed in his
discourses, together with their freedom from every
thing that might be branded as the cant of a party,
would, as far as Mr. Howe's influence could extend,
contradict the charges that have been brought
against the preaching most in vogue in those times.
He has, indeed, escaped censure from those who
have proved themselves greedy of every opportunity
to charge all that were placed in his circumstances,
with political manoeuvring, or eagerness to found
their fortunes upon the ruins of other men. To
those who were known to differ from him both in
religion and politics, he was studious to do good
offices ; and whatever hostility was meditated by
others against learning or sobriety in religion, in Mr.
Howe it found a determined opponent. He attempted
to procure for Dr. Seth Ward, afterwards bishop of
Exeter, the principalship of Jesus College Oxford ;
and so earnest was his recommendation, that the
Protector, who had already promised that situation,
asked the Doctor in a pleasant way, what he thought
it worth; and receiving the answer, promised to
Xll
allow him that annual sum. On another occasion,
Dr. Thomas Fuller, being called to appear before
those who, from their appointment to investigate
the qualifications of ministers, were called the
Triers, was much alarmed, and applied to Mr. Howe
in his usual style, saying " You may observe, Sir,
that I am a pretty corpulent man, and I have to go
through a passage that is very strait ; be so kind
then as to give me a shove and help me through."
If we may judge of the kind of advice which Mr.
Howe gave, from the event, it was highly honour-
able to all parties ; for when the Triers asked the
usual question, " Have you ever experienced a work
of grace on your heart ? " Fuller replied, " I can
appeal to the searcher of hearts that I make con-
science of my very thoughts." As this was no
direct answer to the question, while it entered most
deeply into the genuine character of the man, it
shews that Mr. Howe knew the Triers were not
anxious to promote the mere shibboleth of a party,
and therefore advised Fuller to declare honestly in
his own way, what was his religious character in the
sight of God. The result was as successful as
every pious and liberal mind could wish.
The generous manner in which Mr. Howe used
his interest at court, in serving all men of worth
who applied to him, met with its due notice from
Cromwell, who one day frankly said to him, " Mr.
Howe, you have obtained many favours for others,
I wonder when the time is to come that you will ask
any thing for yourself or your own family."
XiU
Tltat Oliver's discernment should lead him to re-
pose great confidence in one of so much disinte-
rested integrity, can excite no surprise. Many
secret services Howe performed, but always with a
view to promote the interests of his country, or,
which is nearly the same, those of deserving men.
When once engaged, he distinguished himself by
secresy, diligence and dispatch : of this a particular
instance is recorded, in which he travelled with in-
credible speed to attend a meeting of ministers at
Oxford.
But as high places are well denominated in Scrip-
ture slippery places, it must not be supposed that
one of Mr. Howe's independence of thinking and
rectitude of action, could always avoid giving offence.
He is said to have once preached expressly against
Cromwell's notion of particular faith in prayer ; and
to have created a coolness between himself and the
Protector. But so equivocal were the proofs of dis-
pleasure, that Mr. Howe held his station at Court
till Oliver Cromwell's death, and then was appointed
chaplain to Richard, his son and successor.
It was during the short protectorate of Richard
that the Independents held their meeting at the
Savoy, to draw up their confession of faith. About
two hundred pastors and messengers of churches as-
sembled, in October 1658, and, with an unanimity
that excited much surprise among those who regarded
Independency as an anomalous thing which exhi-
bited the jarring elements of chaos, agreed on that
XIV
formulary which they in subsequent days tacitly
abandoned for the Assembly's catechism. At this
meeting Mr. Howe assisted, along with Dr. Owen,
and the other distinguished divines of the indepen-
dent persuasion.
But the removal of Richard Cromwell from the
seat of government occasioned Mr. Howe's return
to his rural charge. He laboured among them in
peace till some months after the Restoration, when
the officious zeal of some persons in behalf of the
new order of things occasioned some trouble, even
to a man of Mr. Howe's Catholicism.
He was informed against by John Evans and Wil-
liam Morgan, for delivering seditious and even
treasonable sentiments, in two sermons, on the 30th
of September and 14th of October 1 660. After an
adjournment of the Sessions by the Mayor, in order
to accommodate the Deputy Lieutenant of the county,
Mr. Howe in open court demanded the benefit of
the statutes 1st of Edward VI. and 1st of Elizabeth, to
purge himself by more evidences than the informers
could produce. Twenty- one respectable persons
then cleared Mr. Howe, upon oath, of the accusation,
and the Court discharged him. The Mayor, how-
ever, was summoned to appear before the Deputy-
Lieutenant, and conducted by a party of horse to
Exeter, where he was committed to the Marshalsea,
and fined several pounds. But when the affair was
examined by the Judge, he said the whole was founded
in mistake, and dismissed the suit. It was remarked,
XV
that one of the informers soon left the town, and
was seen no more ; and the other cut his own throat,
and was buried in a cross road.
As persecutions of this kind, which were of fre-
quent occurrence in various parts of the kingdom,
paved the way for the Act of Uniformity, Mr. Howe,
on the celebrated Bartholomew's- day, preached his
farewell sermon, in the parochial edifice of Great
Torrington. His parting addresses were deeply af-
fecting, and the congregation was dissolved in tears.
Dr. Wilkins, who was one of Charles the Second's
new bishops, meeting Mr. Howe soon after, ex-
pressed his surprise at the effects which the Act of
Uniformity had produced ; some who seemed most
catholic in their principles and spirit, as Mr. Howe
certainly was, being most determined non-conform-
ists. Mr. Howe assured him, that his Catholicism
compelled him to dissent from an establishment
which imposed such terms of communion as were
now enforced by law. " Besides," said he, " I could
not go into a falling house, for fear of its tumbling
about my ears ; and such I conceive your present
ecclesiastical constitution to be, compared with that
flourishing state of vital religion which I think I have
sufficient warrant from the word of God to expect."
The reply of Dr. Wilkins was singularly shrewd, and
worthy of remark—" I understand you well ; and if
that be your mind, take this advice from a friend ;
don't think to gain any thing by sneaking or crouch-
ing, but bear up against us boldly and bravely, stand
XVI
to your principles, and sooner or later you may hope
to carry your point."
In conformity to the spirit of friendship which he
shewed towards Mr. Howe, Wilkin s contended with
Dr. Cosins against the severity by which the latter
attempted to support the establishment. " I am
persuaded," said Bishop Wilkins, " though reflected
on by many for my moderation, I am a better friend
to the church than your Lordship." When his Lord-
ship expressed his surprise at this, Wilkins said,
" While you, my Lord, are for setting the top on the
piqued end, you will not be able to keep it up any
longer than you keep whipping ; whereas I am for
setting the broad end downwards, and thus it will
stand of itself."
Mr. Howe being now cast out from consecrated
walls, began to consecrate the houses of his friends
and acquaintances in the county of Devon, by
preaching in them whenever opportunity afforded.
But having on one of these occasions spent a few
days at the house of a gentleman, on his return home
he was informed that there was a citation out against
him and the gentleman at whose house he had
preached. The next morning, therefore, he took
his horse and rode to Exeter ; but while he stood at
the gate of the inn where he alighted, one of the
dignitaries of the establishment, with whom he was
well acquainted, seeing him, said, " Mr. Howe, what
do you do here?" To which Mr. Howe replied,
" Sir, what have I done that I may not be here V
XV 11
Mr. Howe then said, that a citation was out against
him, and that if he did not take care he should in a
short time be apprehended. The dignitary asked
him, if he did not intend to go to the Bishop ? To
which Mr. Howe replied, that he did not intend,
unless his Lordship, being informed that he was
there, should send for him. The person who thus
accidentally met him immediately went to the
Bishop, and brought from him a message, that he
should be glad to see Mr. Howe. Having received
him very politely, his Lordship began to rally him
on his non-conformity ; but was answered in such a
manner, that he soon dropped the subject, and
began to assure Mr. Howe, that if he would come in
amongst them he might have very considerable
preferment. They parted with mutual civility ; and
as neither party mentioned the process in the eccle-
siastical court, so Mr. Howe and his friend heard no
more of the affair,
In the year 1665 it was deemed not enough to
have silenced the non-conformist ministers- for three
years, and therefore the infamous Five Mile Act was
passed by the Parliament that sat at Oxford. The
oath which was intended to bind men to passive
obedience and non-resistance, was to be taken by
the non-conformist ministers, or they were not
allowed to come, unless on a journey, within five
miles of any city or corporation, or any place that
sent members to Parliament, or any place where
they had been ministers, or had preached since the
Act of Oblivion. As there was a difference of opi-
c
XV1I1
nion concerning the meaning of the oath, there was
a correspondent diversity of practice ; but since the
excellent subject of this memoir determined in
favour of taking the oath, it may be interesting to
our readers to see the notes which he drew up, and
which are highly characteristic of the man :
" 1. My swearing is my act. 2. The obligation I hereby contract
is voluntary. 3. Swearing in a form of words prescribed by ano-
ther,. I adopt those words, and make them my own. 4. Being
now so adopted, their first use is to express the true sense of my
heart, touching the matter about which I swear. 5. Their next
use, as they have now the form of an oath, is to assure him or
them who duly require it from me, that what I express is the true
sense of my heart. 6. It is repugnant to both those ends, that
they should be construed (as now used by me) to signify another
thing than what I sincerely intend to make known by them.
7- If the words be of dubious signification, capable of more senses
than one, I ought not to hide the sense in which I take them, but
declare it, lest I deceive them whom I ought to satisfy. 8. That
declaration I ought to make, if I have opportunity, to them whose'
satisfaction is primarily intended by the oath ; if not, to them
whom they intrust and employ : this declared sense muf 3 t be such
as the words will fairly bear without force or violence."
It has been asserted, though upon what authority
does not appear, that notwithstanding all Mr. Howe's
concessions to authority, and all the friends which
his former kindnesses had procured him, he was in
the year 1665 imprisoned in the isle of St. Nicholas,
where his father in-law, George Hughes, and his
brother-in-law, Obadiah Hughes, had been confined
for a still longer period. Though Dr. Calamy could
not discover the occasion of this imprisonment, or
the means of his deliverance, the following letter to
XIX
his brother-in-law, after their liberation, renders the
fact probable, if not certain :
" Blessed be God that we can have and hear of each other's
occasions of thanksgiving 5 that we may join praises as well as
prayers, which I hope is done daily for one another. Nearer ap-
proaches and constant adherence to God, with the improvement of
our interest in each other's hearts, must compensate (and will, I
hope, abundantly) the unkindness and instability of a surly, treache-
rous world, that we see still retains its wayward temper, and
grows more peevish as it grows older, and more ingenious in in-
venting ways to torment whom it disaffects. It was, it seems, not
enough to kill by one single death ; but when that was almost
done, to give leave and time to respire, to live again, at least in
hope, that it might have the renewed pleasure of putting us to a
farther pain and torture in dying once more. , Spite is natural to
her ; all her kindness is an artificial disguise — a device to promote
and serve the design of the former, with the more efficacious and
piercing malignity : but patience will elude the design, and blunt
its sharpest edge. It is perfectly defeated, when nothing is ex-
pected from it but mischief, for then the worst it can threaten
finds us provided ; and the best it can promise, incredulous, and
not apt to be imposed upon. This will make it at last despair," and
grow hopeless, when it finds that the more it goes about to mock
and vex us, the more it teaches and instructs us ; and that as it is
wickeder, we are wiser. If we cannot, God will outwit it, and
carry us, I trust, through to a better world, upon which we may
terminate hopes that will never make us ashamed."
While Mr. Howe was thus, like David, shifting
from place to place, in order to evade an unreason-
able and restless foe, he was induced to publish one
of those valuable works which have turned the suf-
ferings of the non-conformists into the most efficient
means of perpetuating their cause. He had, indeed,
already inserted in the Morning Exercises, a sermon
c 2
XX
on "- Man's creation in a holy but mutable state ;"
but the Treatise which he now gave to the public,
entitled, the " Blessedness of the Righteous," was
of a more important character, though it is said to
have been the substance of a course of sermons de-
livered to his charge at Torrington. Had we no
other means of forming a judgment concerning his
style of preaching, we should, from this Treatise,
pronounce it far too much laboured. But his post-
humous discourses, which were taken down from his
lips, are as luminous and idiomatic and free as we
could wish them, and thus prove that the involved
style of his larger treatises arose from excessive soli-
citude to render them worthy of the eye of the
public, and of the learned. The preface to the
Blessedness of the Righteous has been, with
great justice, quoted as a fine specimen of sublimity
of thought and Catholicism of spirit ; forming a
porch in perfect harmony with a temple reared to
the honour of the God who will crown the righteous
with that bliss which arises from a transforming
view of his own glorious character.
Mr. Howe was now reduced to great straits;
for his family was increased, and he had been for
some years without any sphere of labour from
whence he could derive an income. But that God
whom he faithfully served, and to whose approba-
tion he had sacrificed his prospects of worldly gain,
opened to him a source of relief by a liberal invita-
tion from a person of rank in Ireland. He set off
for Dublin, in the beginning of April 1671; but, on
XXI
the way, met with an occurrence very characteristic
both of the man and of his times. In company
with his eldest son, and a considerable number of
friends, he was detained by contrary winds, at the
port where he intended to embark, supposed to be
Holyhead. In a large parochial edifice they found
that prayers, without any sermon, were expected on
the Lord's- day ; and therefore they went in quest of
some retired spot on the sea-shore, where Mr. Howe
might comply with the request of the party by
preaching to them. But as they were walking along
the sands, they met two persons riding towards the
town; and on*one of the company addressing a
question to the inferior of the two equestrians, he
proved to be the parish clerk, who informed them
that the other, who was the parson, never preached,
but would be willing to lend his pulpit to a stranger.
Upon application, this proved to be correct, and Mr.
Howe, turning back with his party, preached twice
to an auditory, which, in the afternoon, was very
large and deeply impressed.
But, on the following Lord's-day, this created great
embarrassment to the incumbent. For the inha-
bitants, not only of the town, but also of the adja-
cent country, observing that the wind had not
changed, and that neither the vessel nor the strange
minister were gone, came nocking into town in great
numbers, hoping to hear Mr. Howe again. The
parson, seeing a prodigious crowd, aware of their
expectation, and having made no provision for
preaching, either by himself or any other, was in
XXII
such consternation that he sent his clerk to Mr. Howe,
entreating that he would come and preach again to
the immense multitude, who were in eager expecta-
tion. The messenger found Mr. Howe so indisposed
that he was in bed, and in such a state that it was
doubtful whether he ought to comply with the re-
quest. But, reflecting that the voice of God seemed
to call him out to an enlarged sphere of usefulness,
where a starving flock eagerly looked for the word
of life, he resolved to venture. Rising from his bed,
he went as quickly as possible into the crowded
congregation, where he preached, with great freedom
and energy, to a people who seemed so much af-
fected, that Mr. Howe used to say, " If my ministry
was ever of any use, I think it must be then." Soon
after, the vessel sailed, and Mr. Howe felt no ill
effects from this effort to promote the welfare of
others at his own risk.
In Ireland, he lived as chaplain to Lord Massarene,
in Antrim, and enjoyed that respect which was so
much his due. The Bishop of the diocese, together with
the Metropolitan, demanding no declaration of con-
formity, gave him leave to preach, every Lord's-day
afternoon, in the parochial pulpit of the town.
Calamy says, he was informed that the Archbishop,
in a meeting of the Clergy, declared, that he wished
every pulpit over which he had any controul to be
open to Mr. Howe.
During the first year of his residence in Ireland,
Mr. Howe published his most eloquent discourse on
the text " Remember how short my time is ; where-
XX111
fore hast thou made all men in vain ?" It was preached
on an affecting occasion. Anthony Upton, esq. son
of a kinsman of Mr. Howe, who lived at Lupton, in
Devon, having resided between twenty and thirty
years in Spain, was at length expected home, by his
father and an affectionate family, who were collected
from various parts to give him a joyful welcome.
But the vessel for which they looked out so eagerly
blasted all their hopes, by exhibiting the mourning
signals of having on board the corpse of the young
man, who had been suddenly snatched off by a
violent disease, and whose ashes were now borne to
find a grave in his native place. The assembled
party, amounting to twenty, and composed of bro-
thers and sisters, with their consorts and children,
who had hoped to embrace their relative with joy,
were thus called together to shed their tears over
his untimely tomb. The preacher, in a strain of
sublime pathos, pours the consolations of religion
into the bleeding hearts of his relatives, by shewing
that it would be unworthy of God to lavish such
powers as he has bestowed on man, unless he had
designed to perpetuate his being and his bliss beyond
the narrow space of this mortal life.
The next publication which Mr. Howe gave to
the world was, " A Treatise on Delighting in God."
This also was the substance of a course of sermons
preached at Torrington, and affords an honourable
testimony to the digniPed and devotional strain of
the pastor's instructions.
Tn the year 1675, Dr. Lazarus Seaman, a Non-
XXIV
conformist minister of London, dying, his congre-
gation were divided in their choice of a successor.
One part voted for Mr. Charnock, but another sent
Mr. Howe an invitation. The solicitude of Mr. Howe
to act according to the divine will is attested by his
taking a journey to London, in order to judge of
circumstances on the spot, and by' the following
paper, which he wrote previously to setting off.
" Considerations and Communings with myself, concerning ray
present journey. -Dec. 20, 1675, by night on my bed :
1. Quaere. Have I not an undue design or self-respect in it ?
1. 1 know well I ought not to have any design for myself, wliich
admits not of subordination to the interest and honour of the Great
God and my Redeemer, and which is not actually so subordinated.
2. I understand the fearful evil and sinfulness of having such an
undue regard ; that it is idolatry, the taking another god, and
making myself that god.
3. I find, through God's mercy, some sensible stirrings of hatred
and detestation in my breast of that wickedness, and a great ap-
prehension of the loveliness and beauty of a state of pure, entire
devotedness to God in Christ, and of acting accordingly.
4. I have insisted on this chiefly in prayer, in reference to this
business, ever since it was set on foot, that I might be sincere in it.
5. I have carefully examined what selfish respects I have in
this matter. Is it worldly emolument ? In this my heart acquits
me in the sight of God. Is it that I affect to be upon a public
stage, to be popular and applauded by men ? To this I say, 1 . That
I do verily believe that I shall be lower in the eye and esteem of
the people in London, when I come under their nearer interview.
I know myself incapable of pleasing their genius. I cannot con-
trive nor endure to preach with elaborate artifice. They will soon
be weary, when they hear nothing but plain discourses of such
matters as are not new to them. Yea, and ministers that now
judge of me by what I have written, when matter and words were
XXV
in some measure weighed, will find me, when I converse witft
them, slow to apprehend things, slow to express my own appre-
hensions, unready and entangled in my apprehensions and ex-
pressions 5 so that all will soon say, " This is not the man we
took him for." 2. It displeases me not that they should find and
say this ; I hope I should digest it well. 3. I have found, blessed
be God, that the applause some have given me in letters (as I
have received many of that strain, very many, long before this
business, and that had no relation to any such, that no eye hath
ever since seen but my own) an occasion and means to me of deep
humiliations, when my own heart witnessed to me my miserable
penury, and that I am thought to be what I am not. 4. So far as
I can find, I do not deliberately covet or desire esteem but for my
work's sake. All the design I can more vehemently suspect myself
of, that looks like self-interest in any way, is, 1. The improvement
of my own mind, which I know there may be great opportunities
for, if this journey should issue in my settlement in London.
2. The disposal of my children. Yet I hope these things are
eyed in subordination and indifferently, so as not to sway me against
my duty.
II. Have I not a previous resolution of settling at London,
before I go up ?
1 . I have a resolution to do what I shall conceive most to the
usefulness of the rest of my life j which resolution I ought never
to be without.
2. I am seriously yet at a loss as to judging this case, whether
in this country or there.
3. If I can find clearly it is my duty to return, in order to con-
tinuance at Antrim, I shall do it with high complacency.
III. Quaere. Am I not afraid of miscarrying in this undertaken
voyage, by shipwreck ? &c.
I find little of that fear, I bless God. To put off this tabernacle
so easily, 1 reckon, would to me be a merciful dispensation, who
am more afraid of sharp pains than of death. I think I should joy-
fully embrace those waves which should land me on an unde-
signed shore, and when I intended Leverpool, should land me in
heaven.
XXVI
After such a display of purity of motive and soli-
citude to glorify God in his ministry, Mr. Howe's
satisfaction in settling with the congregation that
had invited him, and the success of his labours in
the metropolis, will not be surprising. King Charles's
indulgence at this time afforded Mr. Howe a better
opportunity of exercising his ministry than could
have been expected ; for his congregation was con-
siderable, both in numbers and talents ; and he was
held in high esteem by several of the dignitaries of
the establishment, as well as by his brethren among
the dissenting ministers.
That the care of a new charge, and the distrac-
tions of London, did not withdraw him from study,
may be seen by the publication of the first part of
his most elaborate work, " The Living Temple,"
which came out as soon as Mr. Howe was settled
in the metropolis, though it was projected under the
hospitable roof of Lord Massarene, to whom it was
dedicated. As it was designed to shew that a good
man is the temple of God, the author first labours
to prove the existence of a Deity, to whom such a
temple should be reared.
In the year 1677, Mr. Howe was drawn into
controversy by the publication of a letter to the
Hon. Robert Boyle, on a difficult point in Theology,
" the reconcileableness of God's prescience of the
sins of men, with the wisdom and sincerity of his
counsels and exhortations." While some highly
admired this piece, by others it was as much con-
demned. Theophilus Gale, his old fellow student,
inserted some animadversions on it, in the fourth
XXV11
part of his " Court of the Gentiles," which appeared
about this time. Mr. Howe defended himself against
Mr. Gale, in a postscript to his letter. Mr. Danson
also wrote against Mr. Howe ; though it is said that
he was answered, not by Mr. Howe himself, but by
a witty and entertaining piece from the pen of
Andrew Marvel. This, however, is not to be found
among the works of that satirical, but incorruptible
patriot.
While the Popish plot, and the Bill of Exclusion,
were the grand objects that occupied the public
mind, Mr. Howe was much consulted by all parties.
At the request of Bishop Lloyd, he went to meet that
prelate, at the house of Dr. Tillotson, then Dean of
Canterbury. To the enquiry concerning what would
satisfy the Dissenters, Mr. Howe said, he conceived
the grand thing they wished for was, to be able to
promote parochial reformation. " For that reason,"
said the bishop, " I am for taking the lay Chan-
cellors quite away, as they are the great hindrance
to reformation." It was at length agreed that they
should have another meeting, the next evening, at
seven o'clock, at Dr. Stillingfleet's, the Dean of St.
Paul's. Mr. Howe took with him, according to
agreement, Dr. Bates ; but they found not the com-
pany that was expected ; and though they waited till
ten o'clock, the Bishop neither came, nor took any
farther notice of the affair. The next day, they
heard that the Bill of Exclusion was thrown out of
the House of Lords, by a majority, fourteen of which
were bishops.
XXVlil
Dean Stillingfleet at this time made an attack on
the Dissenters, which Mr. Howe joined with Dr.
Owen, Mr. Baxter, and others, to repel. Tillotson
also preached a sermon at Court, in 1680, in which
he asserted, that no man is obliged to preach against
the religion of a country, though a false one, unless
he has the power of working miracles. King Charles,
the " most religious king," for whose edification
this sermon was preached, happening to be asleep
most of the time, a nobleman said to him after-
wards, " It is a pity your Majesty slept, for we had
the finest piece of Hobbism you ever heard in your
life." Ods fish, said the king, he shall print it then ;
and immediately sent his commands to the preacher.
When it came out, the Dean sent it, according to his
usual practice, to Mr. Howe, who drew up a letter
in reply, which he read to him as they rode in the
carriage of the Dean, who was so ashamed of what
he had asserted, that he wept and bewailed it bit-
terly, apologising for himself, however, by saying,
that he was suddenly called upon to preach, instead
of another person who had been taken ill.
In the years 1681 and the two following, Mr. Howe
published several of his minor pieces; and when
the noble patriot, William Lord Russel, was be-
headed, he addressed to his widow a Letter full of
devout consolation. Though it was anonymous, her
Ladyship discovered the writer, and sent him her
thanks, assuring him that she would endeavour to
follow his advice. This epistle is published in the
Collection of Lady Russel's Letters, and was fol-
XXIX
lowed by many tokens of mutual friendship between
Mr. Howe and the family of the noble martyr to
liberty. It is hoped, says the first biographer of
Howe, that the remaining branches of this noble
family will adhere to his principles and imitate his
glorious example.
As the fire which now raged against Dissenters
was furnished with fuel by a Letter from Barlow,
Bishop of Lincoln, Mr. Howe sent his Lordship a
Letter replete with dignified argument and faithful
expostulation.
But the voice of reason and religion were too
feeble to be heard amidst the clamour of wrath and
bitterness that now raged against Non-conformity,
and Mr. Howe's opportunities of usefulness were so
abridged, that he gladly accepted an invitation from
Lord Wharton, to travel with him on the continent.
Not having had an opportunity of taking leave of his
friends, he wrote a letter to them, as soon as he ar-
rived on the other side of the sea. The following
extracts from it will throw light on the history of
the writer.
" It added to my trouble, that I could not so much as bid fare-
well to persons to whom I had so great endearments, which
solemnity, you know, our circumstances would not admit. He
who knoweth all things, knoweth that I am not designing for
myself. I love not this world, nor do I covet an abode in it,
upon any other account than doing some service for him and the
souls of men. It has, therefore, been my settled sentiment a
long time, to desire peace and quiet, with some tolerable health,
more than life. Nor have I found any thing more destructive to
my health than confinement to a room, a few days, in the city air.
The city was more healthful to me formerly, than since the anger
XXX
and jealousies of such as I never had a disposition to offend, have
occasioned persons of my circumstances very seldom to walk the
streets.
" But my hope is, that God will, in his good time, incline the
hearts of rulers more to favour us, and that my absence from you
will be for no long time ; it being my design, in dependence on
his gracious providence and pleasure, in whose hands our times are,
if I hear of any door open for service with you, to spend the health
and strength which God shall vouchsafe me (and which I find
through his mercy much improved since I left you,) in his work
among you."
He then proceeds to give them such counsels
concerning watchfulness over their spirit, that they
may not indulge a wish to treat others as they were
treated, and such exhortations to all that is bene-
volent and exalted in religion, that we cannot help
exclaiming ; And is this the man that " could very
seldom walk the streets of London, on account of
the anger and jealousies" of some of its ruling in-
habitants ! "Of him the world was not worthy! "
After visiting other celebrated places, Mr. Howe
took up his residence at Utrecht, attracted by the plea-
santness of the situation, and by the society which
he there enjoyed with Mr. Matthew Mead and other
distinguished Englishmen. He took his turn in
preaching at the English Church in the city, as did
also Dr. Gilbert Burnet, afterwards Bishop of Salis-
bury. This celebrated prelate one day conversing
freely on the subject of Non-conformity, told Mr.
Howe, I think it cannot subsist long ; but when you
and Mr. Baxter, and Dr. Bates, and a few more, are
laid in your graves, it will sink and come to nothing.
Mr. Howe replied, " That must be left to God ; but
XXXI
I reckon it depends not on persons, but on principle.
As some pass off the stage, others will rise up, and
fill their places, acting upon the same principles ;
though, I hope, with due moderation towards those
of different sentiments."
Several years after, Dr. Calamy was informed by
Burnet, at his episcopal palace in Sarum, that he
and the dignitaries of the establishment had thought
that dissent would have been res unius cetatis, but
as it was otherwise, he was happy to see the amiable
spirit of the new generation of dissenting ministers
that was rising up.
While in Holland, Mr. Howe was admitted to in-
terviews with William, who was afterwards seated on
the throne of Britain, and who was fond of hearing
anecdotes of Cromwell, whom he called Mr. Howe's
old master.
The pangs inflicted on Mr. Howe and his little
company of refugees, by the news they received of
the rapid advances which the English government
was making towards Popery and despotism, were, at
at length, alleviated by information concerning King
James's declaration for liberty of conscience, which
encouraged Mr. Howe's congregation to invite his
return. Having resolved to comply, he waited on
the Stadtholder, who received him kindly, wished
him a good voyage, but advised him to resist all pro-
posals for addressing the King by way of sanctioning
his dispensing power.
Joyfully received as Mr. Howe was by his flqck,
he was deeply affected by the critical circumstances
xxxn
of his country. Frequent meetings were held, to
consider what course the dissenting ministers should
pursue ; when Mr. Howe always declared against any
such addresses to the King as the court was earnestly
seeking, in order to sanction its schemes. At one
meeting, which was held in Mr. Howe's own house,
two persons attended from Court, and declared that
the King was waiting in his closet, and would not
depart till he received their decision. To the pro-
posal made by one minister to gratify his majesty,
another replied, that all their previous sufferings
were not so much on account of their religious sen
timents, as for their determination to maintain the
civil privileges of their country, in opposition to
tory measures ; and if, therefore, the King expected
that they should requite his indulgence by abandon-
ing their principles, he had better take their liberty
back again. In summing up, Mr. Howe declared
that he himself, and the majority, were of this mind ;
and the report was accordingly carried to the King.
At length the storm which had long shaken the
realm subsided into a calm, by the landing of Wil-
liam the Third, and the complete success of his
arms. On this occasion Mr. Howe addressed him,
in behalf of the dissenting ministers, in the fol-
lowing terms :
" We declare our grateful sense of your Highness's hazardous
and heroical expedition, which the favour of heaven has made so
surprizingly prosperous.
" We esteem it a common felicity that the worthy Patriots of
the nobility and gentry of this kingdom, have unanimously con-
curred to your Highness's design, by whose most prudent advice
XXX111
the administration of public affairs is devolved, in this difficult con-
juncture, into hands which the nation and the world know to be
apt for the greatest undertakings.
" We promise the utmost endeavours which in our station we
are capable of affording, for promoting the excellent and most de-
sirable ends for which your highness has declared.
" Our continual and fervent prayers are offered to the Almighty
for the preservation of your highness's person, and the success of
your future endeavours for the defence and propagation of the
Protestant interest throughout the Christian world."
It was now warmly debated whether the Non-
conformists should be comprehended within the
establishment, by altering the terms of conformity,
or should have such indulgences granted as would
set them at ease from the penalties they formerly
endured. Mr. Howe finding, to his surprise and
mortification, that many of the dignitaries of the
establishment were hostile to the granting of any
favours to his friends, after the court that had been
so recently paid to them, when the church was in
distress, drew up a piece entitled, " The Case of
the Protestant Dissenters represented and argued."
At length the Act of Uniformity gave to the Dis-
senters a great part of that privilege, which nothing
but bigotry and tyranny could ever have denied them.
To improve to the utmost this happy event, Mr. Howe
published an Address to Conformists and Dissenters,
in which the dignity, benevolence, and wisdom of
his mind were displayed in all their force,
New contests now called for the interposition of
Mr. Howe's peaceful and catholic spirit. The dif-
ferences among the Dissenters themselves arose from
vol. viii. d
XXXIV
what may be termed an amiable cause; for the
Presbyterians and Independents wishing to act as
one body, drew up Heads of agreement assented to
by the body of United Ministers, which were pub-
lished in 1691, a great part of which was from Mr.
Howe's pen. But as there was perhaps in this union
a greater sacrifice of sentiment than was strictly
proper, so one of the first measures of the body was
a declaration against Mr. Davis, of Rothwell, whose
apostolical zeal demanded not only praise, but imita-
tion ; and the final result was, that what was intended
for peace proved the firebrand of strife.
The strictest Independents drew off from the
United Ministers ; and a controversy arising about
the publication of Dr. Crisp's works, one party
charged the other with verging towards Arminia-
nism, and even Socinianism, and was accused, in its
turn, of favouring the Antinomian error.
Mr. Howe, as usual, laboured to promote charity
and peace, but almost laboured in vain; for, Mr. Wil-
liams being excluded from the Lecture that was held
at Pinner's Hall, 1694, another was set up at Salters'
Hall, in which Dr. Bates, Mr. Howe, and Mr. Alsop,
were united with Mr. Williams.
In the contests that rose, about this time, concern-
ing the doctrine of the Trinity, Mr. Howe took a
part by the publication of a tract, in 1694, entitled,
" A calm and sober enquiry concerning the possi-
bility of a Trinity in the Godhead." In this letter
he waves the question about three persons in the
Deity, though he pronounces that term neither inde-
XXXV
fensible nor blameable, and merely enquires whether
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, cannot
admit of sufficient distinction from each other to
answer the purposes assigned them by the Scriptures,
and yet each of them be God, consistently with the
unquestionable truth that there can be but one God.
This he asserts to be neither a contradiction nor an
absurdity. That Mr. Howe failed to reconcile the
contending parties, or even to escape the imputation
of heresy, will excite no surprise.
Occasional Conformity was the next subject of
debate on which Mr. Howe employed his pen. Sir
Thomas Abney, who was a member of his flock,
going publicly both to his own place of worship
and to the parochial place, during the year of his
mayoralty, was severely animadverted upon by some,
who were jealous of this honour put upon Dissenters,
and was defended by his pastor Mr. Howe.
By this time, says Dr. Calamy, when that little
charity we had among us, was just expiring, Mr.
Howe began to be weary of living. He had seen
enough of the world to be convinced how unfit a
place it was to continue to dwell in. He wanted to
breathe in nobler air and inhabit better regions, and
we shall soon see how he fled thither.
His latter publications were chiefly Funeral Ser-
mons, for several of his best friends, the excellent
of the earth ; and last of all, he gave to the world,
in 1705, a Discourse on Patience in expectation of
future blessedness, with an Appendix. Of this pa-
tience he had now much need ; for he was tried by
XXXVI
several complaints ; but while he still thought that
to serve Christ was worth living for, he shewed that
to depart and be with Christ was in his esteem well
worth dying for. Sometimes he seemed to be al-
ready in heaven. His original biographer says,
" that some of his flock to this day remember, that
in his last illness, when he had been declining for
some time, he was once in a most affecting, melting,
heavenly frame, at the Communion, and carried cut
into such a ravishing and transporting celebration of
the love of Christ, that both he himself and they who
communicated with him, were apprehensive he
would have expired in that service."
In his last sickness he conversed pleasantly with
persons of all ranks, who came to see him. Among
the rest, Richard Cromwell, to whom he formerly
was chaplain, and who had now grown old in retire-
ment from the w r orld, hearing of Mr. Howe's decline,
came to pay him a last farewell visit. Many tears
were mingled with their serious discourses ; and one
who was present, gave an affecting account of this
solemn parting, between two distinguished men, who
had each, though in different ways, acted an im-
portant part on the stage of this world.
Having been exceedingly ill, one evening, and
finding himself unexpectedly revived, next morning,
his friends expressed to Mr. Howe their surprise at
finding that he was pleased with this. He replied,
that, while he liked to feel himself alive, he was
most willing to lay aside this clog, the body. He once
observed to his wife, " Though I think I love you as
xxxvn
well as is fit for one creature to love another, yet if
it were put to my choice, whether to die this moment,
or live through this night, and living this night would
secure the continuance of life for seven years longer,
1 would choose to die this moment." At length on
April 2, 1 705, he was translated to the blessedness of
the righteous, to which he has taught many to aspire.
He was interred at St. Allhallows, Bread Street,
and his Funeral Sermon was preached by his fellow-
labourer, Mr. Spademan, from 2 Tim. iii. 14.
In answer to enquiries after his papers, his eldest
son, Dr. George Howe, said that his father industri-
ously concealed the large memorials which he had
collected of his own life and times, and in his last
illness ordered them all to be destroyed. Nothing.
therefore, was left but some short notes of Sermons,
and some Latin Memoranda in the blank pages of his
study Bible, of which the following is a translation:
Dec. 26, 1689. After I had long and seriously reflected, that in
addition to a full and undoubted assent to the objects of faith, it
is necessary to have a lively taste and relish of them, that they
may penetrate to the inmost recesses of the heart, •with greater
power and efficacy, and there being more deeply fixed, may more
mightily govern the life 3 and that there could be no other way
of coming to a just conclusion concerning the safety of our
state towards God ; and after I had been largely discoursing on
2 Cor. i. 12, " Our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our con-
science," &c. this very morning I awoke out of a most delightful
dream, of this kind : a wonderful stream of celestial rays from the
sovereign throne of the Divine Majesty seemed to be poured into
my opened, panting breast. Very often have I, from that remark-
able day, revolved in my grateful mind, that memorable pledge of
the Divine favour, and have tasted over again and again its sweetness.
XXXVill
-Hut the experience I had of the same kind of bliss, on October L 11,
1704, through the wonderful kindness of my God, and the most
delightful operation of the Holy Spirit, far surpassed all the
powers of language I can command. I felt the most delightful
melting of heart, attended by profuse tears of joy, that the love
of God should be shed abroad in the hearts of men ; and that
his Spirit should be shed on mine for that blessed. end. Rom. v. 5.
To review the life and character of such a man as
John Howe, is as arduous as it is edifying and de-
lightful. In him we behold our nature exalted by-
Divine influence to such heights, that few can follow
him closely enough to mark his movements, or mea-
sure his form. That he had his faults, we may be
sure, not only from what we know of human nature
in its best state, but from his own deliberate confes-
sion ; though it is difficult at this distance of time, to
discover them with such distinctness as to show to
others how they may avoid the rocks on which he split.
But the excellence which presents itself to view in
almost every page of his writings, and in every re-
cord of his life, is the devotional spirit. He was
evidently of that royal priesthood, whose whole
business is religion, and who " whether they eat or
drink, or whatever they do, do all to the glory of
God." He not only exhibited in himself a proof of
the position, unfolded in his great work, that a good
man is the temple of God, but, viewing the universe
as one vast temple to Jehovah's praise, he trod as on
sacred ground, and breathed the air of heaven.
After this, it may seem surprising to mention his
inflexible integrity. He that lives under the eye of
God will, indeed, be just in all his dealings with man ;
XXXIX
but few have been placed in circumstances that could
put integrity to so severe a test, and fewer still have
come out of the fiery ordeal with a reputation so
unspotted and exalted. That an angry world could
not frown him into cowardly compliance with its
will, is the least part of his praise ; for he was proof
against a far more alarming temptation, that of fol-
lowing those we love, and sacrificing some portion
of stern principle to please those who have gained
the preference of our heart. But neither the coarse
vulgar who prevented him from walking the 'streets
of London, nor the Prince who held the seat of
power, could bend the soul of Howe from the straight
path of duty ; and when he judged that truth or
holiness were at stake, he was alike immoveable,
whether a dominant hierarchy threatened, or the
brethren with whom he had suffered attempted to
argue or persuade.
Yet seldom has such independence of thought and
action been allied with charity so genuine or bene-
volence so warm. In him was seen the full import
of the expression, which if it had been found in
classic, instead of inspired writings, would have been
extolled to the skies, " Charity rejoiceth in the
truth." Superficial observers of his candid temper
supposed that he held his creed with a loose hand ;
but when the Act of Uniformity put him to the test,
the decision with which he sacrificed his gain to his
convictions, compelled them to acknowledge with
surprise, that what they had mistaken for laxity of
sentiment was kindness of heart.
Were we, however, to be ealled upon to select
that which was most characteristic of John Howe, we
should without hesitation exhibit his elevation of
mind. It is not often that his writings display what
would be termed the sublime in composition ; but
the nobility of his soul raises him above every thing
that is little or coarse, and his touch exalts and dig-
nifies common subjects to such a degree, that wc
feel ourselves rising with him till we wonder that we
did not before see the objects of our former ac-
quaintance in the golden light which he pours on
every thing he presents to view.
To those who think that some portion of obscurity
is essential to the sublime, it may appear an unne-
cessary deduction from his praise, to mention the
injury which he has done to his more finished pro-
ductions by so crowding his sentences with thought,
and inlaying them with parentheses, that it is difficult
to grasp or retain their full import. But when re-
peated perusals have rendered his style familiar, it
so fills the mind with mighty and elevated thoughts,
that most other writings appear trite or vapid.
The originality of Howe is of that peculiar and
superior kind that becomes infectious, and compels
the reader, departing from beaten routes, to draw
from the Scriptures and the doctrines of theology,
reflections that surprise by their novelty, improve by
their sanctity, and agitate by their force. But to
display all the excellencies of the author or his
works would require a volume.
< I
ADDENDA
MEMOIR.
VOL. VIII.
LETTER to Lady Russell on the Execution of Lord Russell, page xliii
Mr. Howe's Answer to the Letter of Bishop Barlow, of Lincoln,
wherein the Bishop countenanced the execution of the rigorous
Laws against Dissenters li
Mr. Howe's Letter to his Friends, on setting out to travel with Lord
Wharton • . . . . liv
CASE of the Protestant Dissenters represented and argued . . lix
Humble Requests, both to Conformists and Dissenters, touching
their Temper and Behaviour toward each other, upon the lately
[1689] passed Indulgence lxvi
Mr. Howe's Letter to Mr. Spilsbury, upon the occasion of setting up
another Tuesday Lecture lxxiii
Letter to a Person of Honour, partly representing the rise of occa-
sional Conformity, and partly the sense of the present Noncon-
formists, about their yet continuing Differences from the Esta-
blished Church " lxxiv
CASE (connected with the foregoing) Ixxvii
Introduction or Preface to Mr. Howe's Last Will and Testa-
- ment lxxix
ADDENDA TO THE MEMOIR.
+***+*■+*+***
Letter to Lady Russel, on the Execution of Lord Russbl.
Madam,
It can avail you nothing, to let your honour know, from what
hand this paper comes ; and my own design in it is abundantly
answered, if what it contains proves useful to you. Your affliction
hath been great, unspeakably beyond what it is in my power or
design to represent ; and your supports (in the paroxysm of your
affliction) have been very extraordinary ; and such as wherein all
that have observed or heard, could not but acknowledge a divine
hand.
But your affliction was not limited and enclosed within the limits
of one black day, nor is like those more common ones, the sense
whereof abates and wears off by time ; but is continued, and pro-
bably more felt, as time runs on : which therefore makes you need
continued help from heaven every day.
Yet there is here a great difference between what expectations
we may have of divine assistance, in the beginning or first violence
of some great affliction ; and in the continued course of it afterwards.
At first we are apt to be astonished, a consternation seizes our
thinking faculty, especially as to that exercise of it, whereby it
should minister to our relief In this case the merciful God doth
more extraordinarily assist such as sincerely trust and resign them-
selves to him; unto- these, as his more peculiar favourites, his sus-
taining influences are more immediate, and more efficacious, so as
even (in the present exigency) to prevent and supersede any endea-
vour of theirs, whereof they are, then, less capable. And of the
largeness and bounty of his goodness, in such a case, few have had
greater experience than your ladyship ; which was eminently seen,
in that magnanimity, that composure and presentness of mind,
much admired by your friends, and no doubt by the special favour
of heaven afforded you in the needful season : so that while that
amazing calamity was approaching, and stood in nearer view, no-
thing that was fit or wise or great was omitted ; nothing indecent
done. Which is not now said, God knows, to flatter your ladyship,
(whereof the progress will farther vindicate me :) for I ascribe it to
God, as I trust your ladyship, with unfeigned gratitude, will also do.
And I mention it, as that whereby you are under obligation to en-
deavour, your continued temper and deportment may be agreeable
to such beginnings.
For now (which is the other thing, whereof a distinct observation
xliv
ought to be had) in the continuance and settled state of the affliction r
when the fury of the first assault is over, and we have had leisure
to recollect ourselves, and recover our dissipated spirits, though we
are then more sensible of pain and smart, yet also the power of
using our own thoughts is restored. And being so, although we are too
apt to use them to our greater hurt, and prej udice, we are really put
again into a capacity of using them to our advantage, which our
good God doth in much wisdom and righteousness require we should
do. Whereupon we are to expect his continual assistance for our
support under continued affliction, in the way of concurrence and
co-operation with our due use of our own thoughts, aptly chosen, as
much as in us is, and designed by ourselves, for our own comfort
and support.
Now as for thoughts suitable to your honour's case, I have reason
to be conscious that what I shall write can make but little accession,
I will not say to a closet, but to a mind so well furnished, as you are
owner of: yet I know it is remote from you to slight a well -intended
offer and essay, that really proceeds only from a very compassionate
sense of your sorrows, and unfeigned desire to contribute something
(if the Father of mercys, and the God of all comforts and consola-
tions will please to favour the endeavour) to your relief.
And the thoughts which I shall most humbly offer, will have that
first and more immediate design, but to persuade your making use
of your own ;. that is, that you would please to turn and apply them
to subjects more apt to serve this purpose, the moderating your own
grief, and the attaining an habitual well-tempered cheerfulness, for
your remaining time in this world. For I consider how incident it
is to the afflicted, to indulge to themselves an unlimited liberty in
their sorrows, to give themselves up to them, to make them meat and
drink, to justify them in all their excesses, as that (otherwise) good
and holy man of God did his anger, and say, " they do well to be
sorrowful even to the death," and (as another) to " refuse to be com-
forted." And I also consider that our own thoughts must, and will
always be the immediate ministers either of our trouble or comfort,
though as to the latter, God only is the supreme author ; and we
altogether insufficient to think any thing that good is, as of ourselves.
It is God that comforts those that are cast down, but by our own
thoughts employed to that purpose, not without them.
I do not doubt, Madam, but if you once fixedly apprehend that
there is sin in an over-abounding sorrow, you will soon endeavour
its restraint : for I cannot think you would more earnestly set your-
self to avoid any thing, than what you apprehend will offend God,
especially the doing that in a continued course. Is there any time
when joy in God is a duty ? Tis very plain the sorrow that ex-
cludes it is a sin. How the former may appear to be a duty, and
how far, let it be considered.
It is not to be doubted but that he that made us hath a right to
rule us; he that gave us being, to give us law : nor again, that the
Divine government reaches our minds, and that they are the prime
xlv
and first seat of his empire. " His kingdom is within us." We
are not then, to exercise our thoughts, desires, love, joy/or sorrow,
according to our own will but his ; not as we please, or find our-
selves inclined, but suitably to his precepts and purposes, his rules
and ends.
Jt is evident that withal, the earthly state is mixed, intermediate
between the perfect felicity of heaven, and the total misery of hell :
and farther, that the temper of our spirits ought to have in it a mix-
ture of joy and sorrow, proportionable to our state, or what there is
in it of the just occasions or causes of both.
Where Christianity obtains, and the gospel of our Saviour is
preached, there is much greater cause of joy than elsewhere. The
visible aspect of it imports a design to form men's minds to glad-
ness, in as much as, wheresoever it comes, it proclaims peace to
the world, and represents the offended Majesty of heaven willing to
be reconciled to his offending creatures on earth. So the angel pre-
faced the gospel, when our Lord was born into the world, Luke ii.
" I tell you glad tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people."
And so the multitude of accompanying angels sum it up ; " Glory
be to God in the highest, Peace on earth, good will towards
men."
To them that truly receive the gospel, and with whom it hath its
effect, the cause of rejoicing riseth much higher. For if the offer
and hope of reconciliation be a just ground of joy, how much more
actual agreement with God, upon the terms of the gospel, and recon-
ciliation itself! " We rejoice in God through Jesus Christ, by
whom we have received the atonement," Rom. v. 11. To such
there are express precepts given to " rejoice in the Lord always,"
Phil. iv. 4. And lest that should be thought to have been spoken
hastily, and that it might have its full weight, that great apostle im-
mediately adds, " and again I say to you rejoice." And else-
where, " rejoice evermore," 1 Thess. v. 16.
Hence therefore the genuine right temper and frame of a truly
Christian mind and spirit may be evidently concluded to be this,
(for such precepts do not signify nothing, nor can they be under-
stood to signify less) viz. an habitual joyfulness, prevailing over all
the temporary occasions of sorrow, that occur to them. For none
can be thought of that can pre-ponderate, or be equal to the just
and great causes of their joy. This is the true frame, model, and
constitution of the kingdom of God, which ought to have place in
us ; herein it consists, viz. " in righteousness and peace, and joy in
the Holy Ghost," Rom. xiv. 17.
Nor is this a theory only, or the idea atid notion of an excellent
temper of spirit, which we may contemplate indeed, but can never
attain to. For we find it also to have been the attainment, and
usual temper of Christians heretofore, that " being justified by faith,
and having peace with God, they have rejoiced in hope of the glory
of God," unto that degree, as even to " glory in their tribulations
also," Rom. v. 1,2, 3. And that in the confidence they should
xlvi
" be kept by the power of God, through faith unto salvation," thev
have hereupon " greatly rejoiced," though with some mixture of
heaviness (whereof there was need) from their manifold trials.
But that their joy did surmount and prevail over their heaviness
is manifest; for this is spoken of with much diminution, whereas
they are said to " rejoice greatlv," and " with a joy unspeakable
and full of glory," 1 Pet. i. 5, 6, 8.
Yea, and such care hath the great God taken for the preserving
of this temper of spirit among his people more anciently, that even
their sorrow for sin itself (the most justifiable of all other) hath had
restraints put upon it, lest it should too long exclude or inter-
mit the exercise of this joy. For when a great assembly of
them were universally in tears, " upon hearing the Law read,
and the sense given," they were forbidden to weep or mourn,
or be sorry, because " the joy of the Lord was their strength,"
Nehem. viii. 8, 9, 10. That most just sorrow had been unjust, had it
been continued, so as to exclude the seasonable turn and alternation
of this joy. For even such sorrow itself is not required, or neces-
sary for itself. Tis remote from the goodness and benignity of
God's ever-blessed nature, to take pleasure in the sorrows of his
people, as they are such, or that they should sorrow for sorrow's
sake ; but only as a means and preparative to their following joy.
And nothing can be more unreasonable, than that the means should
exclude the end, or be used against the purpose they should serve.
It is then upon the whole most manifest, that no temporary afflic-
tion whatsoever, upon one who stands in special relation to God, as
a reconciled (and which is consequent, an adopted) person, though
attended with the most aggravating circumstances, can justify such
a sorrow (so deep or so continued) as shall prevail against, and
shut out a religious holy joy, or hinder it from being the prevailing
principle in such a one. What can make that sorrow allowable,
or innocent, (what event of Providence, that can, whatever it is, be
no other than an accident to our Christian state; that shall resist the
most natural design and end of Christianity itself ? that shall deprave
and debase the truly Christian temper, and disobey and violate
most express Christian precepts I subvert the constitution of
Christ's kingdom among men? and turn this earth (the place of
God's treaty with the inhabitants of it, in order to their reconciliation
to himself, and to the reconciled the portal and gate of heaven, yea
and where the state of the very worst and most miserable has some
mixture of good in it, that makes the evil of it less than that of hell)
into a mere hell to themselves, of sorrow without mixture, and
wherein shall be nothing but weeping and •wailing.
The cause of your sorrow, Madam, is exceeding great. The
causes of your joy are inexpressibly greater. You have infinitely
more left than you have lost. Doth it need to be disputed whether
God be better and greater than man ? or more to be valued, loved,
and delighted in ? and whether an eternal relation be more consi-
derable than a temporary one 1 Was it not your constant sense in
xlvii
your best outward state, " Whom have I in heaven but thee
God, and whom can I desire on earth, in comparison of thee!"
Psal. lxxiii. 25. Herein the state of your Ladyship's case is still
the same (if you cannot rather with greater clearness, and with less
hesitation pronounce those latter words.) The principal causes of
your joy are immutable, such as no supervening thing can alter.
You have lost a most pleasant, delectable, earthly relative. Doth
the blessed God hereby cease to be the best and most excellent
good ! Is his nature changed ! his everlasting covenant reversed
and annulled ! which is " ordered in al) things and sure," and is to
be " all your salvation and all your desire," whether he make your
house on earth to grow or not to grow, 2 Sam. xxiii. 4. That
sorrow which exceeds the proportion of its cause, compared with
the remaining true and real causes of rejoicing, is in that excess
causeless ; i. e. that excess of it wants a cause, such as can justify
or afford defence unto it.
We are required, in reference to our nearest relations in this
world, (when we lose them) " to weep as if we wept not," as well
as (when we enjoy them) to " rejoice as if we rejoiced not," because
our time here is short, and the fashion of this world passeth away,
1 Cor. vii. 29,30,31. We are finite beings, and so are they.
Our passions in reference to them, must not be infinite, and without
limit, or be limited only by the limited capacity of our nature,
so as to work to the utmost extent of that, as the fire burns, and the
winds blow, as much as they can : but they are to be limited by the
power, design, and endeavour of our reason and grace (not only by the
mere impotency of our nature) in reference to all created objects.
Whereas in reference to the infinite uncreated good, towards which
there is no danger or possibility of exceeding in our affection, we
are never to design to ourselves any limits at all ; for that would
suppose we had loved God enough, or as much as he deserved,
which were not only to limit ourselves, but him too ; and were a
constructive denial of his infinite immense goodness, and conse-
quently of his very Godhead. Of so great concernment it is to us,
that in the liberty we give our affections, we observe the just dif-
ference which ought to be in their exercise, towards God, and to-
wards creatures
It is also to be considered, that the great God is pleased so to
condescend, as himself to bear the name, and sustain the capacity
of our nearest earthly relations ; which implies that what they were
to us, in this or that kind, he will be in a transcendent, and far more
noble kind. I doubt not but your Ladyship hath good right to apply
to yourself those words of the prophet, Isa. lvi. 5. " Thy Maker is
thy husband," &c. Whereupon, as he infinitely transcends all
that is delectable in the most excellent earthly relation, it ought to
be endeavoured, that the affection placed on him should propor-
tionably excel. I cannot think any person in the world would be
a more severe or impartial judge of a criminal affection than your
Ladyship : or that it would look worse unto any eye, if any one
should so deeply take to heart the death of an unrelated person,
xlviii
as never to take pleasure more, in the life, presence, and conver-
sation of one most nearly related. And you do well know that
such an height (or that supremacy) of affection, as is due to the
ever-blessed God, cannot without great injury, be placed any
where else. As we are to have none other God before him ; so
him alone we are to love with all our heart and soul, and might
and mind.
And it ought farther to be remembered, that whatsoever interest
we have or had in any the nearest relative on earth, his interest who
made both is far superior. He made us and all things primarily
for himself, to serve great and important ends of his own : so that
our satisfaction in any creature, is but secondary and collateral to
the principal design of its creation.
Which consideration would prevent a practical error and mis-
take that is too usual with pious persons, afflicted with the loss ol
any near relation, that they think the chief intention of such a pro-
vidence is their punishment. And hereupon they are apt to justify
the utmost excesses of their sorrow, upon such an occasion, ac-
counting they can never be sensible enough of the Divine displea-
sure appearing in it ; and make it their whole business, (or employ
their time and thoughts beyond a due proportion) to find out and
fasten upon some particular sin of theirs, Which they may judge
God was offended with them for, and designed noAv to punish upon
them. It is indeed the part of filial ingenuity, deeply to appre-
hend the displeasure of our Father, and an argument of great sin-
cerity, to be very inquisitive after any sin for which we may sup-
pose him displeased with us, and apt to charge ourselves severely
with it, though perhaps upon utmost inquiry, there is nothing parti-
cularly to be reflected on, other than common infirmity incident to
the best, (and it is well when at length we can make that judgment,
because there really is no more, not for that we did not enquire)
and perhaps also God intended no more in such a dispensation, (as
to what concerned us in it) than only, in the general, to take off our
minds and hearts more from this world, and draw them more in-
tirely to himself. For if we were never so innocent, must therefore
such a relative of ours have been immortal ? But the error in prac-
tice as to this case, lies here ; not that our thoughts are much exer-
cised this way, but too much. We ought to consider in every case,
principally, that which is principal. God did not create this or that
excellent person, and place him for a while in the world, prin-
cipally to please us ; nor therefore doth he take him a^vay, prin-
cipally to displease or punish us ; but for much nobler and greater
ends which he hath proposed to himself concerning him. Nor are
we to reckon ourselves so little interested in the great and sovereign
Lord of all, whom we have taken to be our God, and to whom we
have absolutely resigned and devoted ourselves, as not to be obliged
to consider and satisfy ourselves, in his pleasure, purposes, and
ends, more than our own, apart from his.
Such as he hath pardoned, accepted, and prepared for himself,
are to serve and glorify him in an higher and more excellent capa-
xlix
city, than they ever could in this wretched world of ours, and
wherein they have themselves the highest satisfaction. When the
blessed God is pleased in having attained and accomplished the
end and intendments of his own boundless love, (too great to be
satisfied with the conferring of only temporary favours in this im-
perfect state) and they are pleased in partaking the full effects of
that love ; who are we, that we should be displeased ? or that Ave
should oppose our satisfaction, to that of the glorious God, and his
glorified creature ?
Therefore, Madam, whereas you cannot avoid to think much on
this subject, and to have the removal of that incomparable person,
for a great theme of your thoughts, I do only propose most humbly
to your honour, that you would not confine them to the sadder and
darker part of that theme. It hath also a bright side ; and it
equally belongs to it, to consider whither he is gone, and to whom,
as whence and from whom. Let, I beseech you, your mind be more
exercised in contemplating the glories of that state your blessed
consort is translated unto, which will mingle pleasure and sweetness
with the bitterness of your afflicting loss, by giving you a daily
intellectual participation (through the exercise of faith and hope)
in his enjoyments. He cannot descend to share with you in -your
sorrows ; you may thus every day ascend, and partake with him in
his joys. He is a pleasant subject to consider. A prepared spirit
made meet for an inheritance with them that are sanctified, and
with the saints in light, now entered into a state so connatural, and
wherein it finds every thing most agreeable to itself. How highly
grateful is it to be united with the true centre, and come home to
the Father of Spirits ! To consider how pleasant a welcome, how
joyful an entertainment he hath met with above ! How delighted
an associate he is with the general assembly, the innumerable com-
pany of angels, and the " spirits of just men made perfect !" How
joyful an homage he continually pays to the throne of the Celestial
"King!
Will your Ladyship think that an hard saying of our departing
Lord to his mournful disciples, " If ye loved me, ye would rejoice,
that I said I go to the Father ; for my Father is greater than IV
As if he had said, he sits inthroned in higher glory than you can
frame any conception of, by beholding me in so mean a condition
on earth. We are as remote, and as much short in our thoughts as
to the conceiving the glory of the Supreme King, as a peasant,
who never saw any thing better than his own cottage, from con-
ceiving the splendour of the most glorious prince's court. But if
that " faith, (which) is the substance of things hoped for, and the
evidence of things not seen," be much accustomed to its proper
work and business, the daily delightful visiting and viewing the glo-
rious invisible regions ; if it be often conversant in those vast and
spacious tracts of pure and brightest light, and amongst the holy in-
habitants that replenish them ; if it frequently employ itself in con-
templating their comely order, perfect harmony, sublime wisdom,
VOL. VIII. f
1
unspotted parity, most fervent mutual love, delicious conversation
with one another, and perpetual pleasant consent in their adoration
and observance of their eternal King! who is there to whom it
would not be a solace to think I have such and such friends and
relatives (some perhaps as dear as my own life) perfectly well
pleased, and happy among them ! How can your love, Madam, (so
generous a love towards so deserving an object!) how can it but
more fervently sparkle in joy, for his sake, than dissolve in tears for
your own 1
Nor should such thoughts excite over-hasty impatient desires of
following presently into heaven, but to the endeavours of serving
God more cheerfully on earth, for our appointed time : which I ear-
nestly desire your Ladyship would apply yourself to, as you would
not displease God, who is your only hope, nor be cruel to yourself,
nor dishonour the religion of Christians, as if they had no other con-
solations than this earth can give, and earthly power take from
them. Your Ladyship (if any one) would be loth to do any thing
unworthy your family and parentage. Your highest alliance is to
that Father and family above, whose dignity and honour are 1 doubt
not of highest account with you.
1 multiply words, being loth to lose my design. And shall only
add that consideration, which cannot but be valuable with you, upon
his first proposal, who had all the advantages imaginable to give it
its full weight ; I mean that of those dear pledges left behind': my own
heart even bleeds to think of the case of those sweet babes, should
they be bereaved of their other parent too. And even your conti-
nued visible dejection would be their unspeakable disadvantage.
You will always naturally create in them a reverence of you ; and
I cannot but apprehend how the constant mien, aspect and deport-
ment of such a parent will insensibly influence the temper of dutiful
children ; and (if that be sad and despondent) depress their spirits,
blunt and take off the edge and quickness, upon which their future
usefulness and comfort will much depend. Were it possible their
(now glorious) father should visit and inspect you, would you not be
troubled to behold a frown in that bright serene face '. You are to
please a more penetrating eye, which you will best do, by putting
on a temper and deportment suitable to your weighty charge and
duty ; and to the great purposes for Avhich God continues you in the
world, by giving over unnecessary solitude and retirement, which
(though it pleases) doth really prejudice you, and is more than you
can bear. Nor can any rules of decency require more. No-
thing that is necessary and truly Christian, ought to be reckoned
unbecoming. David's example, 2 Sam. xii. 20. is of too great au-
thority to be counted a pattern of indecency. The God of heaven
lift up the light of his countenance upon you, and thereby put
gladness into your heart; and give you to apprehend him saying to
you, " Arise and walk in the light of the Lord."
That I have used so much freedom in this paper, I make no
apology for ; but do therefore hide myself in the dark, not judging
li
it consistent with that plainness which I thought the case might
acquire, to give any other account of myself, than that I am one
deeply sensible of your, and your noble relatives great affliction,
and who scarce ever bow the knee before the mercy-seat without
remembering it : and who shall ever be,
Madam,
Your Ladyship's
Most sincere honourer, and
Most humble devoted Servant.
Mr. Howe's Answer to the Letter of Bishop Burlaw of Lincoln,
wherein the Bishop cotmtenanccd the execution of the rigorous
Laws against Dissenters. ( 1684.J
Right Reverend,
As I must confess myself surprized by your late published direc-
tions to your Clergy of the County of Bedford, so nor will I dis-
semble, that I did read them with some trouble of mind, which 1
sincerely profess was more upon your Lordship's account than my
own, (who for myself am little concerned) or any other particular
person's whatsoever. It was such as it had not been very difficult
for me to have concealed in my own breast, or only to have ex-
pressed it to God in my prayers for you, (which through his grace
I have not altogether omitted to do) if* I had not apprehended it not
utterly impossible, (as I trust I might, without arrogating unduly to
myself) that some or other of those thoughts, which I have revolved
in my own mind upon this occasion, being only hinted to your Lord-
ship, might appear to your very sagacious judgment, (lor which I
have had long, and have still a continuing veneration) some way ca-
pable of being cultivated by your own mature and second thoughts,
so as not to be wholly unuseful to your Lordship.
My own judgment, such as it is, inclines me not to oppose any
thing, either, 1. To the lawfulness of the things themselves which you
so much desire should obtain in the practice of the people under
your Lordship's pastoral inspection : or 2. To the desirable come-
liness of an uniformity in the public and solemn worship of God : or
3. To the fitness of making laws for the effecting of such uniformity :
or 4. To the execution of such laws, upon some such persons as
may possibly be found among so numerous a people as are under
your Lordship's care.
But the things which I humbly conceive are to be deliberated on,
are 1. Whether all the laws that are in being about matters of that
nature, ought now to be executed upon all the persons which any
way transgress them, without distinction of either I 2. Whether it
was so well, that your Lordship should advise and press that indis-
tinct execution, which the order (to which the subjoined directions
of your Lordship do succenturiate) seems to intend ; supposing that
designed execution were fit in itself.
I shall not need to speak severally to these heads : your Lord-
ship will sufficiently distinguish what is applicable the one way or
the other. But I humbly offer to your Lordship's further conside-
ration, whether it be not a supposable thing, that some persons
sound in the faith, strictly orthodox in all the articles of it taught by
our Lord Jesus or his Apostles, resolvedly loyal, and subject to the
authority of their governors in church and state, of pious, sober,
peaceable, just, charitable dispositions and deportments ; may yet
(while they agree with your Lordship in that evident principle,
both by the law of nature and scripture, that their prince and
inferior rulers ought to be actively obeyed in all lawful things)
have a formed fixed judgment, (for what were to be done in the case
of a mere doubt, that hath not arrived to a settled preponderation
this way or that, is not hard to determine) of the unlawfulness of
some or other of the rites and modes of worship enjoined to be
observed in this church! For my own part, though perhaps I
should not be found to differ much from your Lordship in most of
the things here referred unto, I do yet think that few metaphysical
questions are disputed with nicer subtlety, than the matter of the
ceremonies lias been by Archbishop Whitgift, Cartwright, Hooker,
Parker, Dr. Burgess, Dr. Ames, Gillespy, Jeanes, Calderwood,
Dr. Owen, Baxter, &c. Now is it impossible that a sincere and
sober Christian may, with an honest heart, have so weak intellec-
tuals, as not to be able to understand all the punctilios upon which
a right judgment of such a matter may depend 1 And is it not
possible there may be such a thing, as a mental as well as a
merely sensitive antipathy, not vincible by ordinary methods 1 Is
there no difference to be put between things essential to our reli-
gion, and things confessed indifferent on the one hand, and on the
other judged unlawful; on both hands but accidental? (though
they that think them unlawful, dare not allow themselves a liberty
of sinning, even in accidentals.) If your Lordship were the Pater-
familias to a numerous family of children and servants, among
whom one or other very dutiful child takes offence, not at the sort
of food you have thought fit should be provided, but somewhat in
the sauce or way of dressing, which thereupon he forbears ; you
try all the means which your paternal wisdom and severity thinks fit,
to overcome that aversion, but in vain ; would you finally famish this
child, rather than yield to his inclination in so small a thing !
My Lord, your Lordship well knows the severity of some of those
laws which you press for the execution of is such, as being exe-
cuted, they must infer the utter ruin of them who observe them not,
in their temporal concernments; and not that only, but their de-
privation of the comfortable advantages appointed by our blessed
Lord, for promoting their spiritual and eternal well-being. I can-
not but be well persuaded not only of the mere sincerity, but
eminent sanctity of divers, upon my own knowledge and experience
of them, who would sooner die at a stake, than I or any man can
prevail with them (notwithstanding our niblick, or whatever can
liii
. „ ouid to facilitate the matter) to kneel before the consecrated
elements at the Lord's Table. Would your Lordship necessitate
such, perdere substantiam propter accidentia? What if there be
considerable numbers of such in your Lordship's vastly numerous
flock; will it be comfortable to you, when an account is demanded
of your Lordship by the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls con-
cerning them, only to be able to say, Though Lord 1 did believe
the provisions of thine house purchased for them, necessary and
highly useful for their salvation, I drove them away as dogs and
swine from thy table, and stirred up such other agents as 1 could
influence against them, by whose means I reduced many of them to
beggary, ruined many families, banished them into strange countries,
where they might (for me) serve other gods ; and this not for dis-
obeying any immediate ordinance or law of thine, but because for
fear of offending thee, they did not in every thing comport with my
own appointments, or which I was directed to urge and impose upon
them 'i How well would this practice agree with that apostolical
precept, ' him that is weak in the faith receive, but not to doubtful
disputations V I know not how your Lordship wOuld relieve yourself
in this case, but by saying they were not weak, nor conscientious,
but wilful and humoursome. But what shall then be said to the
subjoined expostulation, ' Who art thou that judgest thy brother?
We shall all stand betbre the judgment seat of Christ.' What if
they have appeared conscientious, and of a very unblameable con-
versation in all things else * What if better qualified for Christian
communion in all other respects, than thousands you admitted ? If
you say you know of none such under your charge so severely dealt
with, it will be said, why did you use such severity towards them
yon did not know '! or urge and animate them to use it, whom you
knew never likely to distinguish J A very noted Divine of the Church
of England, said to me in discourse nut very long ago, upon mention
of the ceremonies, ' Come, come, the Christian church and religion
is in a consumption ; and it ought to be done as in the case of con-
sumptive persons, shave off the hair to save the life.' Another (a
dignified person) present, replied, ' I doubt not it will be so, in the
Philadelphian state.' I long thought few had been in the temper
of their minds nearer it than your Lordship, and am grieved, not
that I so judged, but that I am mistaken ; and to see your Lordship
the first public example to the rest of your order in such a course.
Blessed Lord ! How strange is it that so long experience will not
let us see, that little, and so very disputable matters can never be
the terms of union so much to be desired in the Christian church ;
and that in such a case as ours is, nothing will satisfy, but the de-
struction of them, whose union upon so nice terms Ave cannot
obtain; and then to call Solitudincm, Pacem! But we must, it
seems, understand all this rigour your Lordship shews, to proceed
from love, and that you are for destroying the Dissenters, only to
mend their understandings, and because Ajftictio dat intcllectum.
I hope indeed God will sanctify the affliction which you give and
liv
procure them, to blessed purposes ; and perhaps periissent nisi pc-
riissent ; but for the purposes your Lordship seems to aim at, I
wonder what you can expect? Can you by undoing men, change
the judgment of their consciences'? Or if they should tell you, we
do indeed in our consciences judge, we shall greatly offend God,
by complying with your injunctions, but yet to save being undone,
we will do it : Mill this qualify them for your communion '. If your
Lordship think still, you have judged and advised well in this
matter, you have the judgment of our Sovereign, upon twelve years
experience, lying against you : you have as to one of the laws you
would have executed, the judgment of both Houses of Parliament
against you, who passed a bill (to which perhaps you consented)
for taking it away.* You have (as to all of them) the judgment of
the last House of Commons sitting at Westminster, so far as to the
season then, of executing those laws. It may be your Lordship
thinks it now a fitter season : but if you have misjudged, or misdone
against your judgment, I pray God to rectify your error by gentler
methods, and by less affliction than you have designed to your
brethren : and do not for all this doubt, (any more for your part -than
my own) to meet you there one da.y, where Luther and Zuinglius
are well agreed. If Ldid think that would contribute any thing to
the honest and truly charitable design of this letter, I should freely
and at large tell you my name : and do however tell you, I am,
A sincere honourer of your Lordship,
And your very faithful, humble Servant.
Mr. Howe's Lethr to his Friends, on setting out to travel with
Lord Wharton. (August 1685.)
To such in and about London, among whom I have laboured
in the work of the Gospel.
My most dearly beloved in our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ, grace, mercy, and peace, be thro' him multiply'd unto you.
That I am at this time at this distance from you, is I am per-
suaded (upon the experience I have had of your great love and
value of my poor labours) not pleasant to you, and I do assure you
it is grievous to me, though I murmur not at the wise and holy Pro-
* The complete History of England, vol. 3. page 393, tells us, that the
Commons in 1680, prepared a Bill ' for exempting His Majesty's Protestant
subjects, dissenting from the Church of England, from the penalties imposed
upon the Papists, by repealing the Act of 35. Eliz.' This Bill passed the
Commons, and was agreed to by the Lords, and lay ready for His Majesty's
assent. But when His Majesty came to the throne, to pass this among
other Bills, this was taken from the table, and never heard of after. Which
no man durst have done, without the King's command, or at least his pri-
vity and connivance at it. The loss of this Bill was complained of, in the
uext parliament at Oxford, but without satisfaction or rediej-s.
iv
videnee that hath ordered things thus, in reference to you and me '.
but it added to my trouble, that I could not so much as bid farewell
to persons to whom I had so great indearments, the solemnity
whereof you know our circumstances would not admit. Nor could
I have opportunity to communicate to you the grounds of my taking
this long journey, being under promise while the matter Avas under
consideration, not to speak of it to any one that was not concerned
immediately about it : neither could I think that imprudent in itself,
where acquaintance was so numerous ; silence towards dearest
friends in such cases usually being designed for an apology to all
others. A.nd after the resolution was taken, my motion depending
on another, I had not time for that or any such purposes. And
should I yet communicate them, as they lie particularly in my own
thoughts,- it would lose time that 1 may more profitably employ, for
both you and myself, while I do it not. You will, I may be confi-
dent, be more prudent and equal, than to judge of what you do not
knew": but so much I shall in the general say, that the providence
of God gave me the prospect of a present quiet abode, with -some
opportunity of being serviceable ; (and I hope, as it may prove
through his help and blessing unto you, if I have life and health to
finish what I have been much pressed by some of yourselves to go
on with ;) which opportunity I could not hope to have nearer you,
at least without being unreasonably burdensome to some, while I
was designing service as much as in me lay to all. It much satisfies
me that 1 have a record above, I am not designing for myself; that
He who knoweth all things knows, 1 love not this present world, and
I covet not an abode in it, (nor have I when it was most friendly to
me) upon any other account, than upon doing some service to Him,
and the souls of men. It therefore has been my settled habitual
sense and sentiment a long time, to value and desire (with submis-
sion to sovereign good pleasure) peace and quiet, with some tolerable
health, more than life. Nor have I found any thing more destructive
to my health, than confinement to a room a few days in the city air,
which was much better and more healthful to me formerly, than
since the anger and jealousies of such as I never had a disposition
to offend, have of later times occasioned persons of my circum-
stances very seldom to walk the streets.
But my hope is, God will in his good time incline the hearts of
rulers more to favour such as cannot be satisfied with the public
constitutions in the matters of God's worship, and that are innocent
and peaceable in the land ; and that my absence from you will be
for no long time, it being my design, with dependence upon his gra-
cious providence and pleasure, in whose hands our times are, if I
hear of any door open for service with you, to spend the health and
strength which God shall vouchsafe me, (and which I find through
his mercy much improved since I left you) in his work with and
among you. In the mean time, I believe it will not be unacceptable
to you, that I offer you some of. my thoughts and counsels for your
present help, such as are not new to me, nor as you will find to
ivi
youselves, who are my witnesses, that I have often inculcated such
things to you ; but they may be useful to stir you up, by putting
you in remembrance.
I. I beseech you more earnestly endeavour to reduce the things
you know (and have been by many hands instructed in out of the
gospel of our Lord) to practice. Nothing can be more absurd than
to content ourselves with only a notional knowledge of practical
matters. We should think so in other cases. As if any man
should satisfy himself to know the use of food, but famish himself
by never eating any, when he hath it at hand : or that he under-
stands the virtues of this or that cordial, but languishes away to
death in the neglect of using it, when it might cheer his spirits and
save his life. And the neglect of applying the great things of the
Gospel to the proper uses and purposes of the Christian life, is not
more foolish, (only as the concernments they serve for are more
important) but much more sinful and provoking to God. For we
are to consider whence the Revelation comes. They are things
which the mouth of the Lord hath spoken ; uttered by the breath of
the eternal God, as all Scriptures are said to be. God breathed,
as that expression may be literally rendered, 2 Tim. iii. 16. And
how high a contempt and provocation is it of the great God, so
totally to pervert and disappoint the whole design of that Revela-
tion he hath made to us, to know the great things contained therein,
only for knowing sake, which he hath made known that we might
live by them! And oh, what holy and pleasant lives should we lead
in this world, if the temper and complexion of our souls did answer
and correspond to the things we know! The design of preaching
has been greatly mistaken, when it has been thought, it must still
acquaint them who live (and especially who have long lived) under
it, with some new thing. Its much greater and more important
design is the impressing of known things (but too little considered)
upon the hearts of hearers, that they may be delivered up into the
mould and form of the doctrine taught them, as Rom. vi. 12: And
may so learn Christ as more and more to be renewed in the spirit
of their minds, and put off the old man and put on the new,
Eph. iv. 20. The digesting our food is what God now eminently
calls for.
II. More particularly labour to have your apprehensions of the
future state of the unseen world, and eternal things, made more
lively and efficacious daily, and that your faith of them may be
such as may truly admit to be called the very substance and evidence
of those things. Shall that glorious everlasting state of things be
always as a dark shadow with us, or as the images we have of
things in a dream, ineffectual and vanishing, only because we have
not seen with our eyes, where' God himself hath by his express
word made the representations of them to us, who never deceived
us, as our own eyes and treacherous senses have done '? Why do
we not live as just now entering into the eternal state, and as if we
now beheld the glorious appearing of the great God our Saviour,
h\i
when we are as much assured of them as if we beheld them ? Why-
do we not oftener view the representation of the heavens vanishing,
the elements melting) the earth flaming, the angels every where
dispersed to gather the elect, and them ascending, caught up to
meet the Redeemer in the air, ever to be with the Lord I What a
trifle will the world be to us then !
III. Let the doctrine of the Redeemer be more studied, and of
his mighty undertaking, with the immediate design of it, not merely
to satisfy for sin by the sacrifice he once for all made of himself,
and so to procure our pardon and justification, without! effecting
any thing upon us, but to redeem us from all iniquity, 4o purify us
to himself, &c. and to form us after his own holy likeness, and for
such purposes to give his Holy Spirit to us. Consider that our
Redeemer is mighty, who hath such kind designs upon us ; and
that as they shall not therefore finally fail of accomplishment, so
will they be carried on without interruption, and with discernible
success, if we fail not as to what part in subordination to him be-
longs to us. How cheerfully should the redeemed of the Lord go
on in their course under such conduct!
IV. Endeavour your faith may be stronger, more efficacious and
practical, concerning the doctrine of Providence, and that the work-
ings and events of it lie all under the management, and in the hand
of the Redeemer, who is ' head over all things to the church :'
That therefore how grievous and bitter soever be his people's lot
and portion at any time, there cannot but be kindness at the bot-
tom; and that not only designing the best end, but taking the fittest
way to it. For can Love itself be unkind, so as not to design well !
or Wisdom itself err so, as to take an improper course in order
thereto ! Hereupon let not your spirits be imbittered by the present
dispensation of Providence you are under, whereby you are in so
great a part deprived of the helps and means of your spiritual
advantage, which j'ou like and relish most. And to this purpose
consider,
1. Our wise and merciful 'Lord (though perhaps such means
might be in some measure useful to us) doth for the present judge,
that his rebuking our undue use of them will be more useful ; either
overvaluing or undervaluing his instruments, turning his Ordinances
into mere formalities, preferring the means of grace (as they are
fitly called) before the end, grace itself.
2. Consider whether there be no disposition of spirit, to treat
others as you are treated. The inward temper of our minds and
spirits is so much the more narrowly to be inspected, by how much
the less there is opportunity to discover it by outward acts. As to
such as differ from us about the forms and ceremonies that are now
required in the worship of God, would we not be glad if they were
as much restrained from using them in their worship, as Ave from
worshipping without them ? And do not we think that that would as
much grieve them, as our restraint doth us ? And why should we
suppose that their way should not as much suit their spirits, and be
VOL. viii. g
lviii
as grateful to them, as -ours to U9 ? But we are in the right way, some
will say, and they in the wrong : And why cannot any man say the
same thing with as much confidence as we ? Or do we think there is
no difference to be put between controversies about matter of cir-
cumstance, and about the essentials of Christianity ? Undoubtedly
till those that affect the name of the Reformed, and count it more
their glory to be called Protestants than to be good Christians, have
learned to mingle more justice with their religion, and how better to
apply that great advice of our Lord's, ' Whatsoever you would that
men should do to you, do that to them,' &e. and till they become
studious of excelling other men, in substantial goodness, abstract-
edness from the world, meekness, humility, sobriety, self-denial and
charity, and to lay a greater stress hereon, than on being of one or
other denomination, God's controversy will not cease.
I reckon it much to be considered, and I pray you consider it
deeply, that after that great precept, Eph. iv. 30. ' Grieve not the
Holy Spirit of God,' it immediately follows, ver. 31. ' Let all bit-
terness and anger and wrath and clamour and evil speaking be put
away from you, with all malice :' plainly implying that the Spirit
of God, that Spirit of all love, goodness, sweetness, and benignity,
is grieved by nothing more than by our bitterness, wrathfulness,
&e. And it appears that the discernible restraint and departure
of that blessed Spirit from the church of Christ in so great a mea-
sure, for many foregoing generations, in comparison of the plentiful
effusion of it in the first age, hath ensued upon the growth of that
wrathful contentious spirit which shewed itself early in the Gnostick,
but much more in the after Arian persecution, which was not in
some places less bloody than the Pagan persecution had been be-
fore. Oh the gentleness, kindness, tenderness, and compassionate-
ness of the evangelical truly Christian spirit, as it most eminently
appeared in our Lord Jesus Christ himself! And we are told,
' If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he his none of his,'
Rom. viii. 9. And how easy and pleasant is it to one's own self, to
be void of all wrathfulness and vindictive designs or inclinations
towards any other man. For my own part, I should not have that
peace and consolation in a suffering condition (as my being so
many years under restraint from that pleasant work of pleading
with sinners that they might be saved, is the greatest suffering I
was liable to in this world) as through the goodness of God I have
found, and do find in being conscious to myself of no other than
kind and benign thoughts towards them I have suffered by, and that
my heart tells me I desire not the least hurt to them that would do
me the greatest ; and that I feel within myself an unfeigned love
and high estimation of divers, accounting them pious worthy per-
sons, and hoping to meet them in the all-reconciling world, that
are yet (through some mistake) too harsh towards us who dissent
from them : And in things of this nature I pray that you and I may
abound more and more.
But again, as I would not have your spirits embittered, so I
lix
would not have your spirits discouraged, or sunk in dejection. ' The
Lord will not cast off his people, because it hath pleased him to
make them his people,' 1 Sam. xii: 22. I do not mean those of
this or that party, but who fear God and work righteousness, be
they of what party soever. As I often think of that saying of an
antient (Clem. Alex.) that he counted not that philosophy, which
was peculiar to this or that sect, but whatsoever of truth was to be
found in any of them ; so I say of Christianity, it is not that which
is appropriate to this or that party, but whatsoever of sincere reli-
gion shall be found common to them all. Such will value and love
his favour and presence, and shall have it; and he will yet have
such a people in the world, and I doubt not more numerous than
ever. And as the bitterness of christians one "towards another
chased away his spirit, his spirit shall vanquish and drive away all
that bitterness, and consume our other dross. And as the apos-
tacy long ago foretold, and of so long continuance in the christian
church, hath been begun and continued by constant war against
the Spirit of Christ, the restitution and recovery of the church, and
the reduction of Christianity to its antient self, and primitive state, will
be by the victory of the Spirit of Christ over that so contrary spirit.
Then shall all the enmity, pride, wrathfulness and cruelty, which
have rent the church of Christ and made it so little itself, be
melted down ; and with all their great impurities, besides earthli-
ness, carnality, love of this present world, and prevalence of sen-
sual lusts, be purged more generally away, and his repairing work
be done in a way grievous to no one, whereby those that are most
absolutely conquered will be most highly pleased ; ' not by might
or by power, but by the Spirit of the Lord.'
In the mean time let us draw nigh to God, and he will draw
nigh to us. Let us more study the exercising ourselves to god-
liness, and take heed of turning the religion of our closets into
spiritless uncomfortable formalities. 4 Their hearts shall live that
seek God.'
To that blessed, and faithful, and covenant keeping God I com-
mit you ; and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you
up farther, and give you an inheritance among them that are sanc-
tisfied. And as I hope I shall without ceasing remember you in
mine, so I hope you will remember too in your prayers,
Your sincerely affectionate,
Though too unprofitable
Servant in Christ,
JOHN HOWE.
The Case of the Protestant Dissenters represented and argued.
They are under one common obligation with the rest of mankind,
by the universal law of nature, to worship God in assemblies.
Men of all sorts of religions, that have ever obtained in the world,
Ik
Jews, Pagans, Mahometans, Christians, hare in their practice ac-
knowledged this obligation. Nor can it be understood, how such a
practice should be so universal, otherwise than from the dictate and
impression of the universal law.
Whereas the religion professed in England, is that of reformed
Christianity, some things are annexed to the allowed public worship,
which are acknowledged to be no parts thereof, nor in themselves
necessary ; but which the Dissenters judge to be in some part sinful.
They cannot therefore with good conscience towards God, attend
wholly and solely upon the public worship which the laws do ap-
point,
v The same laws do strictly forbid their assembling to worship God
otherwise.
Which is in effect the same thing, as if they who made, or shall
continue such laws, should plainly say, If you will not consent with
us in our superadded rites and modes against your consciences, you
shall not worship God ; or if you will not accept of our additions to
the Christian religion, you shall not be Christians : and manifestly
tends to reduce to Paganism, a great part of a Christian nation.
They have been wont therefore to meet however in distinct as-
semblies, and to worship God in a way which their consciences
could approve ; and have many years continued so to do, otherwise
than as they have been hindered by violence.
It is therefore upon the whole fit to enquire,
Q. 1. Whether they are to be blamed for their holding distinct
meetings for the worship of God ?
For answer to this, it cannot be expected that all the controver-
sies should be here determined, which have been agitated about
the lawfulness of each of those things which have been added to the
Christian religion and worship, by the present constitution of the
Church of England.
But supposing they were none of them simply unlawful, while
yet the misinformed minds of the Dissenters could not judge them
lawful, though they have made it much their business to enquire
and search ; being urged also by severe sufferings, which through a
long tract of time they have undergone, not to refuse any means
that might tend to their satisfaction ; they could have nothing else
left them to do, than to meet and worship distinctly as they have.
For they could not but esteem the obligation of the universal,
natural, divine law, by which they were bound solemnly to worship
God, less questionable than that of a law, which was only posi-
tive, topical, and humane, requiring such and such additaments to
their worship, and prohibiting their worship without them.
The Church of England (as that part affects to be called) dis-
tinguished from the rest by those additional to Christian religion,
(pretended to be indifferent, and so confessed unnecessary) hath
not only sought to ingross to itself the ordinances of divine worship,
but all civil power. So that the privileges that belong either to
Christian or humane society are inclosed, and made peculiar to
lxi
such as are distinguished by things that in themselves can signify
nothing to the making of persons either better Christians, or belter
men.
Q. 2. Whether the laws enjoining such additions to our religion,
as the exclusive terms of Christian worship and communion, ought
to have been made, when it is acknowledged on all hands, the
things to be added were before not necessary ; and when it is known
a great number judge them sinful, and must thereby be restrained
from worshipping the true and living God ?
Ans. The question to any of common sense, answers itself. For
it is not put concerning such as dissent from any part of the sub-
stance of worship which God hath commanded, but concerning
such additions as he never commanded. And there are sufficient
tests to distinguish such Dissenters, from those that deny any sub-
stantial part of religion, or assert any thing contrary thereto.
Wherefore to forbid such to worship that God that made them,
because they cannot receive your devised additions, is to exclude
that which is necessary, for the mere want of that which is un-
necessary.
And where is that man that will adventure to stand forth, and
avow the hindering of such persons from paying their homage
to the God that made them, if we thus expostulate the matter on
God's behalf and their own ? Will you cut off from God his right
in the creatures he hath made 1 Will you cut off from them the
means of their salvation upon these terms ? What reply can the
matter admit ?
'Tis commonly alledged that great deference is to be paid to the
laws, and that we ought to have forborn our assemblies, till the
public authority recalled the laws against them : and we will say
the same thing, when it is well proved, that they who made such
laws, made the world too.
And by whose authority were such laws made 1 Is there any
that is not from God ? and hath God given any man authority to
make laws against himself, and to deprive him of his just rights
from his own creatures ?
Nor if the matter be well searched into, could there be so much
as a pretence of authority derived for such purposes from the
people, whom every one now acknowledges the first receptacle of
derived governing power. God can, 'tis true, lay indisputable
obligations by his known laws, upon every conscience of man about
religion, or any thing else. And such as represent any people, <?an
according to the constitution of the Government, make laws for them,
about the things they entrust them with : but if the people of Eng-
land be asked man by man, will they say they did entrust to their
representatives, their religion, and their consciences, to do with
them what they please ? When it is your own turn to be represented
by others', is this part of the trust you commit ? What Dr. Sher-
lock * worthily says concerning a Bishop, he might (and particu-
* Vindication of some Protestant Principles, <5>.c. p. 52.
lxii
larly after, doth) say concerning every other man, ' he can be no
more represented in a council, than at the day of judgment : every
man's soul and conscience must be in his own keeping ; and can be
represented by no man.'
It ought to be considered that Christianity, wherein it superadds
to the law of nature, is all matter of revelation. And 'tis well
known that even among Pagans in the settling rites and institutes of
religion f, revelation was pretended at least, upon an implied
principle, that in such matters humane power could not oblige the
people's consciences.
We must be excused therefore, if we have in our practice ex-
pressed less reverence for laws made by no authority received either
from God or man.
We are therefore injuriously reflected on, when it is imputed to
us, that we have by the use of our liberty, acknowledged an illegal
dispensing power. We have done no other thing herein, than we
did when no dispensation was given or pretended, in conscience of
duty to him that gave us our breath : nor did therefore practise
otherwise, because we thought those laws dispensed with, but be-
cause we thought them not Jaws. Whereupon little need remains of
enquiring farther.
Q. 3. Whether such laws should be continued 1 Against which,
besides what may be collected from that which hath been said, it is
to be considered, that what is most principally grievous to us, was
enacted by that Parliament, that as we have too much reason to be-
lieve, suffered itself to be dealt with, to enslave the nation, in other
respects as well as this ; and which (to his immortal honour) the
noble Earl of DaiTby procured to be dissolved, as the first step
towards our national deliverance.
And let the tenour be considered of that horrid law, by which our
Magna Charta was torn in pieces ; the worst and most infamous of
mankind, at our own expence, hired to accuse us ; multitudes of
perjuries committed, convictions made without a jury, and without
any hearing of the persons accused ; penalties inflicted, goods
rifled, estates seized and embezzled, houses broken up, families
disturbed, often at unseasonable hours of the night, without any
cause, or shadow of a cause, if only a malicious villain would pre-
tend to suspect a meeting there ! No law in any other case like
this ! As if to worship God without those additions, which were con-
fessed unnecessary, were a greater crime than theft, felony, murder,
or treason ! Is it for our reputation to posterity, that the memory
of such a law should be continued \
And are we not yet awakened, and our eyes opened enough to
see, that the making and execution of the laws, by which we have
suffered so deeply for many by-past years, was only, that Protestants
might destroy Protestants, and the easier work be made for the in-
troduction of popery, that was to destroy the residue 1
t As by Numa from his Egeria. And their Priests, to whom the regu-
lation of such matters was left, were generally believed to be inspired.
Isiii
i
Nor can any malice deny, or ignorance of observing Englishmen
overlook, this plain matter of fact : after the dissolution of that
before-mentioned Parliament, Dissenters were much caressed, and
endeavoured to be drawn into a subserviency to the Court designs,
especially in the election of after Parliaments. Notwithstanding
which, they every where so entirely and unanimously fell in with
the sober part of the nation, in the choice of such persons for the
three Parliaments that next succeeded (two held at Westminster,
and that at Oxford,) as it was known would, and who did most gene-
rously assert the liberties of the nation, and the Protestant religion.
Which alone (and not our mere dissent from the Church of Eng-
land, in matters of religion, wherein Charles II. was sufficiently
knoAvn to be a Prince of great inditFerency) drew upon us, soon
after the dissolution of the last of those Parliaments, that dreadful
storm of persecution, that destroyed not a small number of lives in
goals, and ruined multitudes of families.
Let English freemen remember, what they cannot but know, that
it was for our firm adherence to the civil interests of the nation,
(not for our different modes of religion from the legal way, though
the laws gave that advantage against us, which they did not against
others) that we endured the calamities of so many years.
When by the late King some relaxation was given us, what arts
and insinuations have been used with us, to draw us into a concur-
rence to designs tending to the prejudice of the nation 1 And with
how little effect upon the generality of us, it must be great igno-
rance not to know, and great injustice to deny.
But he that knoweth all things, knoweth that though in such cir-
cumstances, there was no opportunity for our receiving public and
authorized promises, when we were all under the eye of Avatchful
jealousy ; yet as great assurances as were possible, were given us
by some that Ave hope will now remember it, of a future established
security from our former pressures. We were told over and over,
when the excellent Heer Fagel's Letter came to be privately com-
municated from hand to hand, how easily better things would be
had for us, than that encouraged Papists to expect, if ever that
happy change should be brought about, which none have now be-
held with greater joy than we,
We are loth to injure those who have made us hope for better,
by admitting a suspicion that we shall now be disappointed and
deceived, (as we have formerly been, and Ave knoAv by whom) or
that Ave shall suffer from them a religious slavery, for Avhose sakes
we have suffered so grievous things, rather than do the least thing
that might tend to the bringing upon them a civil slavery.
We cannot but expect from Englishmen that they be just and
true. We hope not to be the only instances, whereby the Anglica
Fides and the Punica shall be thought all one.
But if we, who have constantly desired, and as Ave have had
opportunity, endeavoured the saving of the nation, must however
be ruined, not to greaten (one hair) the wealth and dignity of it,
but ouly to gratify the humour of them who would yet destroy it ;
we who are competently inured to bufferings, shall through God's
mercy be again enabled to endure: but He that sits in the heavens
will in his own time judge our cause, and we will wait his plea-
sure ; and we hope suffer all that can be inflicted, rather than
betray the cause of reformed Christianity in the world.
But our affairs are in the hands of men of worth and honour,
who apprehend how Kttle grateful a name they should leave to pos-
terity, or obtain now with good men of any persuasion, if under a
pretence of kindness to us, they should now repeat the arts of ill
men, in an ill time. Great minds will think it beneath them to
sport themselves with their own cunning, in deceiving other men,
which were really in the present case too thin not to be seen
through, and may be the easy attainment of any man, that hath
enough of opportunity, and integrity little enough for such purposes.
And it is as much too gross to endeavour to abuse the authority of
a nation, by going about to make that stoop to so mean a thing, as
to make a shew of intending what they resolve to their utmost shall
never be.
But some may think, by concessions to us, the Church of Eng-
land will be ruined, and a great advantage given to the bringing
in of Popery.
To which we say, the generality of the Dissenters differ from the
Church of England, in no substantial of doctrine and worship, no
nor of government, provided it be so managed, as to attain its
true acknowledged end : the favouring of us therefore will as much
ruin the church, as its enlargement and additional strength will
signify to its ruin.
And doth not the world know, that wherein we differ from them,
we differ from the Papists too ? And that for the most part, wherein
they differ from us, they seem to agree with them t
We acknowledge their strong, brave, and prosperous opposition
to Popery : but they have opposed it by the things wherein they
agree with us. Their differences from us, are no more a fence
against Popery, than an inclosure of straw is against a flame of
fire.
But it is wont to be said, we agree not among ourselves, and
know not what we would have.
And do all that go under the name of the Church of England
agree among themselves 1 We can shew more considerable dis-
agreements among them, than any can between the most of us,
and a considerable part of them. They all agree, 'tis true, in
conformity : and we all agree in nonconformity. And is not this
merely accidental to Christianity and Protestantism ? And herein
is it not well known that the far greater part of reformed Christendom
do more agree with us 1
An arbitrary line of uniformity in some little accidents, severs a
small part of the Christian world from all the rest. How unreason-
ably h it expected that therefore all the rest must in every thing
lxv
else agree among themselves * Suppose any imaginary line to eut
off a little segment from any part of the terrestrial globe ; it is as
justly expected that all the rest should be of one mind. If one part
of England be taylors, they might as well expect that all the people
besides should agree to be of one profession.
Perhaps some imagine it dishonourable to such as have gone be-
fore them in the same ecclesiastical stations and dignities, if now
any thing should be altered, which their judgment did before ap-
prove and think fit.
But we hope that temptation will not prove invincible, viz. of so
excessive a modesty as to be afraid of seeming wiser, or better na-
tured, or of a more Christian temper than their predecessors.
But the most of us do agree not only with one another, but in the
great things above-mentioned, with the Church of England too : and
in short, that the reproach may cease for ever with those that count
it one, they will find with us, when they please to try, a very ex-
tensive agreement on the terms of King Charles II. 's Declaration
about ecclesiastical affairs, in 1660.
Q. 4. Whether it be reasonable to exclude all that in every thing
conform not to the Church of England, from any part or share of
the civil power 1
Ans. The difference or nonconformity of many is so minute, that
it would be as reasonable to exclude all whose hair is not of this or
that colour. And what if we should make a distermination, by the
decision this way or that of any other disputed question, that may
be of as small concernment to religion ? Suppose it be that of
eating blood, for the decision •whereof one way, there is more pre-
tence from God's word, than for any point of the disputed con-
formity : would it not be a wise constitution, that whosoever thinks
it lawful to eat black-pudding, shall be capable of no office 1 &c.
But we tremble to think of the Exclusive Sacramental Test,
brought down as low as to the keeper of an alehouse. Are all fit
to approach the sacred table, whom the fear of ruin, or hope of
gain may bring thither ! We cannot but often remember with
horror, what happened three or four years ago : a man that led an
ill life, but frequented the church, was observed not to come to the
Sacrament ; and pressed by the officers to come, he yet declined,
knowing himself unfit : at length being threatened and terrified, he
came ; but said to some present at the time of the solemn action,
that he came only to avoid being undone, and took them to witness
that what he there received, he took only as common bread and
wine, not daring to receive them as the body and blood of Christ.
It is amazing, that among Christians, so venerable an institution
should be prostituted to the serving of so mean purposes, and so
foreign to its true end ! And that doing it after the manner of the
Church of England must be the qualification ! As if England were
another Christendom ; or it were a greater thing to conform in every
punctilio to^the rules of this church, than of Christ himself!
But we would fain know whose is that holy table ? Is it the fable
voi,. vni. h
Ixvi
of thisMjr that party, or the - Lord's table \ If the Lord's, are not
persons to be admitted or excluded upon his terms % Never can
there be union or peace in the Christian world till we take down
our arbitrary inclosures, and content ourselves with those which our
common Lord hath set. If he falls under a curse that alters a man's
landmark, to alter God's is not likely to infer a blessing.
The matter is clear as the light of the sun. that as many persons
of excellent worth, sobriety and godliness, are entirely in the com-
munion of the Church of England, so there are too many of a
worse character, that are of it too ; and divers prudent, pious, and
sober-minded persons that are not of it. Let common reason be
consulted in this case. Suppose the tables turned, and that the
rule were to be made the contrary way, viz. that to do this thing,
but not by any means after the manner of the Church of England,
were to be the qualification ; and now suppose one of meaner en-
dowments, as a man and a Christian, do what is required, and not
in the way of the Church of England; and another that is of much
better, does the same thing in that way ; were it suitable to prudence
or justice, that because it is done after the way of the Church of
England, a fitter man should be reckoned unqualified \ and one of
less value be taken for qualified, because he does it a different way?
Then is all that solid weight of wisdom, diligence, sobriety, and
goodness, to be weighed down by a feather.
It must surely be thought the prudence of any government, to
comprehend as many useful persons as it can, and no more to de-
prive itself of the service of such, for any thing less considerable
than those qualifications are, by which they are useful, than a man
would tear off from himself the limbs of his body, for a spot on the
skin.
And really if in our circumstances, we thus narrow our interest,
all the rest of the world will say, that they who would destroy us, do
yet find a way to be our instructors, and oiir common enemies do
teach us our politics.
P. S. The names of Mr. Hale of Eaton College, and of a later
most renowned Bishop of the Church of England, who asserted this
principle, that ' if things be imposed under the notion of indifferent,
which many think sinful, and a schism follow thereupon, the im-
posers are the schismatics,' will be great in England, as long as
their writings shall live, and good sense can be understood in them.
Humble Requests both to Conformists and Dissenters toziching their
Temper and Behaviour toward each other, upon the lately
passed Indulgence.*
" 1. That we do not over-magnify our differences, or count
them greater than they really are. 1 speak now (says Mr. Howe)
* Mr. Matthew Henry in his short Account of the Life of Mr. Richard
StTCtton, that is subjoined to his Funeral Sermon for him, ascribes this
Ixvii
of the proper differences, which the rule itself makes, to which the
one sort conforms, and the other conforms not. Reraemher that
there are differences on both parts, among themselves incom-
parably greater than these, by which the one sort differs from the
other. There are differences in doctrinal sentiments that are
much greater. How unconceivably greater is the difference be-
tween good men and bad! — between being a lover of the blessed
God, the Lord of heaven and earth, and an enemy ! — a real subject
of Christ, and of the devil ! Have we not reason to apprehend there
are of both these, on each side 1 Let us take heed of having our
minds tinctured with a wrong notion of this matter, as if this In-
dulgence divided England into two Christendoms, or distinguished
rather between Christians and Mahometans, as some men's
Cyclopic fancies have an unlucky art to represent things ; creating
ordinary men and things into monsters and prodigious shapes at
their own pleasure. It has been an usual saying on both sides,
that they were (in comparison) but little things we differed about,
or circumstantial things. Let us not unsay it, or suffer an habit of
mind to slide into us, that consists not with it. Though we must not
go against a judgment of conscience in the least thing, yet let us
not confound the true differences of things, but what are really
lesser things, let them go for such.
" 2. Let us hereupon carefully abstain from judging each other's
state Godward upon these differences : for hereby we shall both
contradict our common rule, and ourselves. When men make con-
science of small and doubtful things on the one hand, and the other,
about which they differ, blessed God, how little conscience is made
of the plainest and most important rule, not to 'judge one another'
for such differences! — Rom. xiv. 3, 13. Why of all the parts of
that holy book, is this chapter only thought no part of God's word !
or this precept, so variously enforced in this chapter, and so awfully,
ver. 10, 11. ' But why dost thou judge thy brother? or, why dost
thou set at nought thy brother? We shall all stand before the
judgment seat of Christ. For it is written, As I live, saith the Lord,
every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to
me!' Is it a light matter to usurp the throne of Christ, the judg-
ment seat of God 1 Yet how common has it been to say, Such an
one conforms, he hath nothing of God in him ; such an one con-
forms not, it is not conscience, but humour. God forgive both.
Had they blotted Rom. xiv. out of their Bibles '. It is plain by the
whole series of discourse, that it is the judging of men's states, and
that by such small matters of difference, that is the thing here for-
paper to Mr. Stretton, and intimates that he had it from a near relation of
his, that he was the author of it : but this I have good reason to believe to
have been a mistake. Few that have any taste of styles, can question it tc
have been Mr . Howe's, when once they have read it. But 1 can add in this
case, that I have had full assurance from Mr. Howe's family, that he was
the real author of it. — E. C.
lxviii
bidden. Some few things contained in this chapter, as to receive
one another (as Christians, or such whom God receives) notwith-
standing remaining doubts about small matters, and not determin-
ing such doubted things in bar to the doubter, ver. 1 , 2, 3 ; and
not to lay stumbling blocks in each other's way, ver. 13 ; not to
do the doubted thing with a mind still unsatisfied, ver. 5, 23 ; not
to censure, either him that does or forbears ; not admitting an hard
thought of him, or less favourable, than that what such an one does,
he does to the Lord, and what the other forbears, he forbears
to the Lord, ver. 6. These few things I say put in practice, had
taken away all differences (that we are now considering) or the
inconvenience of them long ago. And Ave shall still need them as
much as ever.
" 3. Let us not value ourselves upon being of this or that side of
the severing line. It is Jewish, yea, Pharisaical, to be conceited,
and boast ourselves upon externals, and small matters, especially
if arbitrarily taken up ; and is itself an argument of a light mind,
and incomprehensive of true worth. Though I cannot sincerely be
of this or that way, but I must think myself in the right, and others
in the wrong that differ from rae, yet I ought to consider, this is
but a small minute thing, a point compared with the vast orb of
knowables, and of things needful, and that ought to be known.
Perhaps divers that differ from me, are men of greater and more
comprehensive minds, and have been more employed about greater
matters ; and many, in things of more importance, have much more
of valuable and useful knowledge than I. Yea, and since these
are not matters of salvation we differ about, so that any on either
side dare considerately say, he cannot be saved, that is not in these
respects of my mind and way ; he may have more of sanctifying
savoury knowledge, more of solid goodness, more of grace and real
sanctity than I ; the course of his thoughts and studies having been
by converse and other accidents led more off from these things, and
perhaps by a good principle been more deeply engaged about
higher matters : for no man's mind is able equally to consider all
things fit to be considered ; and greater things are of themselves
more apt to beget holy and good impressions upon our spirits, than
the minuter and more circumstantial things, though relating to reli-
gion, can be.
" 4. Let us not despise one another for our differing in these
lesser matters. This is too common, and most natural to that tem-
per that offends against the foregoing caution. Little spirited crea-
tures valuing themselves for small matters, mval consequently have
them in contempt that want what they count their own only excel-
lency. He that hath nothing wherein he places worth belonging
to him, besides a flaunting peruke and a laced suit, must at all
adventures think very meanly of one in a plain garb. Where we
are taught not to judge, we are forbidden to despise or set at nought
one another upon these little differences.
" 5. Nor let us wonder that we differ. Unto this we are too apt,
lxix ^ *
i.'e. to think it strange, (especially upon some arguing of the differ-
ence) that such a man should conform, or such an one not conform.
There is some fault in this, but which proceeds from more faulty
causes. Pride too often, and an opinion that we understand so
well, that a wrong is done us, if our judgment be not' made a
standard and measure to another man's. And again, ignorance of
human nature, or inconsiderateness rather, how mysterious it is,
and how little can be known of it ; how secret and latent little
springs there are that move this engine to our own mind this way
or that ; and what bars (which perhaps he discerns not himself)
may obstruct and shut up towards us another man's. Have we
not frequent instances in other common cases, how difficult it is to
speak to another man's understanding ! Speech is too penurious,
not expressive enough. Frequently between men of sense, much
more time is taken up in explaining each other's notions, than in
proving or disproving them. Nature and our present state, have in
some respects left us open to God only, and made us inaccessible
to one another Why then should it be strange to me, that I can-
not convey my thought into another's mind 1 It is unchristian to
censure, as before, and say, Such an one has not my conscience,
therefore he has no conscience at all : And it is also unreasonable
and rude to say, Such a one sees not with my eyes, therefore he is
stark blind. Besides, the real obscurity of the matter is net
enough considered. I am very confident an impartial and compe-
tent judge, upon the view of books, later and more ancient, upon
such subjects, would say, there are few metaphysical questions dis-
puted with more subtlety, than the controversies about conformity
and nonconformity. Blessed be God that things necessary to the
salvation of souls, and that are of true necessity even to the peace
and order of the Christian church, are in comparison so very
plain.
" Moreover, there is besides understanding and judgment, and
diverse from that heavenly gift which in the Scriptures is called
Grace, such a thing as gust and relish belonging to the mind of
man, and I doubt not, to all men, if they observe themselves ; and
this is as unaccountable and as various as the relishes and disgusts
of sense. This they only wonder at, that either understand not
themselves, or will consider nobody but themselves. To bring it
down to the present case. As to those parts of worship which are
of most frequent use in our assemblies, (whether conforming or
nonconforming) prayer, and preaching, and heating God's word,
our differences about them, cannot but in part arise from the diver-
sity of this principle, both on the one hand and the other. One
sort do more savour prayer by a foreknown form; another that
which hath more of surprize, by a grateful variety of unexpected
expressions. And it can neither be universally said, it is a better
judgment, or more grace, that determines men the one way or the
other ; but somewhat in the temper of their minds distinct from
both, which I know not how better to express than by mental taste,
Ixx
the acts whereof (as the objects are suitable or unsuitable) are
relishing or disrelishing, liking or disliking. And this hath no
more of mystery in it, than that there is such a thing belonging to
our natures, as complacency or displicency in reference to the ob-
jects of the mind. And this, in the kind of it, is as common to men,
as human nature, but as much diversified in individuals, as men's
other inclinations are, that are most fixed, and least apt to admit of
change. Now in the mentioned case, men cannot be universally
determined either way, by their having better judgment ; for no
sober man can be so little modest, as not to acknowledge, that
there are some of each sentiment, that are less judicious, than some
that are of the contrary sentiment in this thing. And to say that to
be more determined this way or that, is the certain sign or effect,
of a greater measure of grace and sanctity, were a great violation
both of modesty and charity. I have not met with any that have
appeared to live in more entire communion with God, in higher
admiration of him, in a pleasauter sense of his love, or in a more
joyful expectation of eternal life, than some that have been wont
with great delight publicly to worship God in the use of our Com-
mon Prayer: and others I have known, as highly excelling in the
same respects, that could by no means relish it, but have always
counted it insipid and nauseous. The like may be said of relish-
ing or disrelishing sermons preached in a digested set of words, or
with a more flowing freedom of speech. It were endless and
odious to vie either better judgments, or more pious inclinations,
that should universally determine men either the one way or the
other in these matters. And we are no more to wonder at these
peculiarities in the temper of men's minds, than at their different
tastes of meats and drinks ; much less to fall out with them, that
their minds and notions are not just formed as ours are : for we
should remember, they no more differ from us, than we do from
them ; and if we think we have the clearer light, it is like they also
think they have clearer. And it is in vain to say, who shall be
judge ? For every man will at length judge of his own notions for
himself, and cannot help it : for no man's judgment (or relish of
things, which influences his judgment, though he know it not) is at
the command of his will ; and much less of another man's. And
therefore,
" 6. Let us not be offended mutually with one another, for our
different choice of this or that way, wherein we find most of real
advantage and edification. Our greatest concern in this world, and
which is common to us ,all, is the bettering of our spirits, and pre-
paring them for a better world. Let no man be displeased, (espe-
cially of those who agree in all the substantials of the same holy
religion) that another uses the same liberty, in choosing the way
most conducing in his experience to his great end, that he himself
also uses, expecting to do it without another man's offence.
" 7. But above all, let us with sincere minds, more earnestly en-
deavour the promoting the interest of religion itself, of true reformed
lxxi '
Christianity, than of this or that party. Let us long to see the reli-
gion of Christians become simple, primitive, agreeable to its lovely
original state, and again itself; and each in our own stations con-
tribute thereto all that we are able, labouring that the internal prin-
ciple of it may live and flourish in our own souls, and be to our
utmost diffused and spread unto other men's. And for its externals,
as the ducture of our rule will guide us, so gradually bend towards
one common course, that there may at length cease to be any
divided parties at all.
" In the mean time, while there are, let it be remembered, that
the difference lies among Christians and Protestants, not between
such and Pagans. Let us therefore carry it accordingly towards
each other; and consider our assemblies are all Christian and
Protestant assemblies, differing in their administrations, for the
most part, not in the things prayed for, or deprecated, or taught,
but in certain modes of expression : and differing really, and in the
substance of things, less by mere conformity or nonconformity to
the public rule of the law, than many of them that are under it do
from one another, and than divers that are not under it. For in-
stance, go into one congregation, that is a conforming one, and you
have the public prayers read in the desk, and afterwards a form of
prayer perhaps used by the preacher in the pulpit, of his own com-
posure, before he begins his sermon. Go into another congrega-
tion, and prayer is performed without either sort of form ; and per-
haps the difference in this is not so great. It may be the conformist
uses no preconceived form of his own, and the nonconformist may.
Both instruct the people out of the same holy book of God's word.
But now suppose one of the former sort, reads the public prayers-
gravely, with the appearance of great reverence, fervency, and
pious devotion ; and one of the latter sort that uses them not, does
however pray for the same things, with judgment and with like
gravity and affection, and they both instruct their hearers fitly and
profitably ; nothing is more evident th^n that the worship in these
two assemblies doth much less considerably differ to a pious and
judicious mind, than if in the latter the prayers were also read, but
carelessly, sleepily, or scenically, flauntingly, and with manifest
irreverence, and the sermon like the rest ; or than if in the former,
all the performance were inept, rude, or very offensively drowsy or
sluggish.
" Now let us shew ourselves men, and manly Christians, not
swayed by trifles and little things, as children by this or that dress
or mode, or form of our religion, which may perhaps please some
the more for its real indecency : but know, that if we continue
picquering about forms, the life be lost, and we come to bear the
character of that church, ' thou hast a name that thou livest, and art
dead,' we may ere long (after all the wonders God hath wrought
for us) expect te hear of our candlesticks being removed, and that
our sun shall go down at noon-day.
" The true serious spirit and power of religion and godliness,
Ixxii
will act no man against his conscience, or his rule understood, but
will oblige him in all acts of worship (as well as of his whole conver-
sation) to keep close to gospel-prescription, so far as he can discern
it. And that he will find requires, that in subordination to the divine
glory, he seriously design the working out the salvation of his own
soul, and take that course in order thereto, put himself under such a
ministry, and such a way of using God's ordinances, as he finds most
profitable and conducing to that great end, and that doth his soul
most real good. If you are religious, or of this or that mode or
way of religion, to serve a carnal design for yourself or your party,
not to save your soul, you commit the most detestable sacrilege,
and alienate the most sacred thing in the world, religion, from its
true end ; which will not only lose that end, but infer an heavy
vengeance. Yea, and it is too possible to transgress dangerously, by
preferring that which is less, though never so confidently thought
to be divine, before that which is greater, or separately from its true
end. You greatly prevaricate, if you are more zealously intent to
promote independency than Christianity, presbytery than Chris-
tianity, prelacy than Christianity, as any of these are the interest of a
party, and not considered in subserviency to the Christian interest,
nor designed for promoting the edification and salvation of your own
soul. But that being your design, living religion will keep your
eye upon your end, and make you steady, and constantly true to
that, and to your rule, without which you can never hope to reach
your end.
" Now hereupon such as conform to the public establishment,
and they that dissent from it, may differ from each other upon a two-
fold account: either (1) as judging the contrary way to be simply
unlawful ; or (2) as judging it to be only less edifying. It is not
the business of this paper to discuss, who herein judge aright, and
who wrong : But supposing their judgment to remain as it is (which
they themselves however should examine, and if it be wrong
rectify ; ) I shall say somewhat to each of these cases.
" To the former, while your judgment continues as it is, it is true
you cannot join in worship with the contrary minded : But nothing
forbids, but you can be kind, conversable, courteous towards them ;
and your common Christian profession (besides the rules of humanity)
obliges you so to be : Yea, and even to converse with them as occa-
sion invites, more intimately as Christians, the visible marks of
serious Christianity appearing in them.
" To the latter sort it is acknowledged, you cannot constantly
join in worship with those of the contrary way, because you ought
ordinarily to worship God in that way which you judge to be best,
and most agreeable to the divine rule, (though you are not obliged
utterly to abandon any for its imperfections or corruptions, that is
not corrupt in the very essentials;) and you ought most frequently
to attend on that which you find to be most edifying to your own
soul ; as that should be your more ordinary diet that best agrees
with you. That way therefore you must most constantly adhere to,
lxxiii
which is most grateful and savoury to you ; because you cannot so
much edify by what you less relish. But your judgment and lati-
tude will well allow you, sometimes to frequent the assemblies with
which you hold not constant communion. And if it will allow, it
will also direct you thereto for a valuable end ; as that you may
signify, you ordinarily decline them not as no Christians, or their
worship as no worship, but as more defective, or less edifying, and
that you may maintain love, and both express and beget a disposi-
tion to nearer union. And if our rulers shall judge such intercourses
conducing to so desirable an end, they may perhaps in due time
think it reasonable, to put things into that state, that ministers of
both sorts may be capable of inviting one another occasionally, to
the brotherly offices of mutual assistance in each other's congrega-
tions. For which, and all things that tend to make us an happy
people, we must wait upon Him in whose hands their hearts are"
Letter from Mr. Howe to Mr. Spilsbury.
" London, April 20, 1695.
" My Dear Brother,
" You strangely forget yourself, when you say I gave you no
account of the Pinner's-Hall business, of which I sent you a large
narrative, when the business was recent ; which if it miscarried, tell
me so, and I promise you I will never do the like again : for it is a
very discouraging thing, when it is so hard a matter to get time to
write such long letters, to have them lost by the way ; or it is not
better, if when they are received, they are taken pro non scriptis.
God knows how I strove against that division. Almost all my
friends that called me to bear a part in that lecture, perceiving the
violence of the other party, agreed to remove to a much more con-
venient place ; and they were, so far as I can learn, the greatest
part of the ancient subscribers, who were grave, sober citizens. They
invited Mr. Mead as well as me. If he would not go, I could not
help that. His acquaintance lay more among the other, as mine
did with these. He and they all know the many meetings we have
had to prevent the breach ; he and I with divers of them on both
sides. And they (who are now of Pinner's-Hall) ran against his
advice and mine, when they had desired us to meet purposely to
advise them. He hath been since as weary of them as others, as
he hath owned to me. They avowed it for a principle before we
parted, they would lay any of us aside at their pleasure, without
giving a reason : and were told thereupon, we would lay down
without giving them a reason; though I think that itself was a
sufficient reason. They know too, how often, since the lecture was
broken into two, and it appeared now there Mere Uo congrega-
tions, which no one place could receive, I have urged both pub-
licly and privately, that the same Lecturers might alternate in both
vol. vm. i
Ixxiv
places, which Mould take away all appearance of disunion ; and
who th 2 y were only that opposed it. Upon these terras I had
preached with them still ; but I Mill not be tied to them, nor any
party, so as to abandon all others. My frequent insisting in ser-
mons among them, when 1 saw whither things tended, that these
were tokens of what was coming, (just as thou writest) will be
thought on it may be hereafter, though then it was not. Above all,
that which determined me was, that when 1 solemnly proposed to
them in a sermon, the keeping a Fast, before they went on to that
fatal rupture ; and it was as solemnly promised by the chief of
them, there should be no step farther made without a Fast; it
should be declined afterwards. Hereupon I told them in my last
sermon there, I should be afraid of confining myself to such as were
afraid of fasting and prayer in so important a case, (repeating their
own good resolution to that purpose ;) and began my course in the
other place with a Fast, to lament what we could not prevent.
These things will be recollected another day.
" In the mean time there never was greater intimacy or endear-
edness between Mr. Mead and me, than now. Last week, he de-
sired me only, without any other, to join with him in keeping a Fast
at his house, about some private affairs of his own, which we did. I
was to have preached at his place to-morrow, after my own work at
home, but present indisposition prevents me as to both. We have
however, agreed to exchange sometimes ; but this cannot last long.
The things that threaten us make haste. Only let us be found
among the mourners in Zion ; comforts will come, in this or the
better world. I just now heard from Mr. Porter out of Sussex, who
inquires after thee.
In the Lord, farewel :
To thee and thine, from me and mine,
with most entire and undeeaying affection,
J. H."
A Letter to a Person of Honour, partly representing the rise of
occasional Conformity, and partly the sense of the present Non-
conformists, about their yet continuing Differences from the
Established Church.
My Lord,
It is well known to such as have understood the state of religion
in this kingdom, since the beginning of the Reformation, that there
have been very different sentiments about the degrees of that Re-
formation itself. Some have judged the church with us so insuf-
ficiently reformed, as to want as yet the very being of a true Chris-
tian church ; and wherewith they therefore thought it unlawful to
have any communion at all. Of whom many thereupon in the
lxxv
several successive Teigns, withdrew themselves into foreign parts,
for the enjoyment of the liberty of such worship, as they judged
more agreeable to the word of God.
There have been also no inconsiderable numbers, in former
and later times, that though not iutirely satisfied with our Prefor-
mation, were less severe in their judgment concerning the consti-
tution and practice of the established Church ; that is, did not judge
its reformation so defective, that they might not communicate at all
with it, nor so compleat, but that they ought to covet a communion
more strictly agreeable to the Holy Scripture ; and accordingly
apprehended themselves to lie under a twofold obligation of con-
science in reference hereto.
1. Not by any means, totally to cut themselves off on the one
hand from the communion of the established Church, in which they
found greater and more momentous things to be approved of and
embraced with great reverence and complacency, (viz. all the true
noble essentials of Christian religion, not subverted as among the
Romanists by any contrary doctrines or practices) than could be
pretended to remain the matter of their disapprobation and dislike.
2. Nor on the other hand, to decline other communion, which
to the judgment of their conscience appeared, in some considerable
circumstances, more agreeable to the Christian rule, and to their
experience more conducing to their spiritual advantage and
edification.
Which latter judgment of theirs (whether itself justifiable or
no, we are not now considering) hath been M r ith many so fixed and
inflexible, that in several successive reigns, great numbers of such
persons, who we had no' reason to apprehend had any thought totally
to abandon the established Church, yet thought themselves obliged
besides, to seek and procure opportunities for such other commu-
nions, even with extreme peril not only to their estates and liberties,
but to their very lives themselves.
They could not therefore but think both these sorts of com-
munions lawful, viz. whereto they might adjoin, but not confine
themselves.
And though to that former sort of communion, there hath for
many years by past, been superadded the accidental consideration
of a place or office attainable hereby, no man can allow himself to
think, that what he before counted lawful, is by this supervening
consideration become unlawful : especially if the office were such,
as was in no manner of way to be an emolument, but rather an
occasion of greater expence to the undertaker of it ; that is, only
enabled him to serve God, the government and his country, being
regularly called hereto, in the condition of a justice of peace, or
otherwise. In which capacity it is notorious that divers persons of
eminent note of this persuasion, (and some in higher stations) have
within the space of forty years past and upwards, been serviceable
to the public in divers parts of the nation.
It is not indeed to be thought that the judgment and practice of
lxxvi
such men, can be throughout approved by our reverend fathers and
brethren of the established Church, as neither can we pretend it to
be so universally by ourselves. But we are remote from any the
least suspicion, that persons of so excellent worth and Christian
temper, as now preside over the established Church, can suffer
themselves to judge or censure men of this sentiment, as being for
this single reason, men of hypocritical and insincere minds ; but
that they will rather think it possible their understandings may be
imposed upon, so as this may be the judgment, in the whole, of a
sincere though misinformed conscience.
For when they apprehend this church, having all the essential
parts of Christian religion, has not, by adding some much disputed
things, that are not pretended to be any parts thereof (but that are
become as necessary to communion with it, as any the most essen-
tial part) thereby unchurched itself, but that they may hold com-
munion with it ; yet they do not see that they ought to appropriate
their communion to it, so as to refuse all other communion, where
the same essentials of Christian religion are to be found, without
those additions which really belong not to it ; they are apt to think
such sentiments of theirs, not to be altogether destitute of some
plausible ground.
However, among those that are not intirely in every punctilio
of this Church, it hath not, any so firm friends, or that are so nearly
united in judgment and affection with it, as men of this sentiment.
We for our parts (who because in some things Ave conform not,
are called Nonconformists, whereas no man conforms in every
thing) are not allowed to be counted members of this Church, by
those that take denominations, not from the intimate essentials of
things (as sameness of doctrine, and the institutions of Christian
worship) but from loose and very separable accidents : yet thanks
be to God, we are not so stupid, as not to apprehend we are under
stricter and much more sacred obligations, than can be carried
under the sound of a name, to adhere to those our Reverend Fathers
and brethren of the established Church, who are most united
among themselves, in duty to God and our Redeemer, in loyalty to
our Sovereign, and in fidelity to the Protestant religion, as with
whom in this dubious state of things we are to'ru'n all hazards, and
to live and die together. Whether they can have the same assu-
rance, both from interest and inclination of mind, concerning all that
are of the same external denomination with themselves, they need
not us to advise with.
We have our yet depending lesser differences, about which we
have (notwithstanding whatsoever provocation) been generally, and
for the most part silent ; and see not in reference to them, what can
farther remain, than that we for our part, do consider, that all minds
are not turned the same way ; that such from whom we dissent, no
farther differ from us, than we do from them ; and we are therefore
no more to wonder at them, than ourselves.
And we cannot disallow ourselves to hope, that our Reverend
Ixxvii
Fathers and brethren will conceive of us as humbly dissenting from
them, without diminution of that great reverence which their real
worth claims from us, and without arrogating anything unduly to our-
selves on that account. For though we cannot avoid thinking we
are in the right, in those particular things wherein we differ, yet at
the same time we know ourselves to be far excelled by them, in
much greater and more important things.
My honoured Lord,
Your Lordship's
Most obedient humble Servant,
J. H.
[But after this, some gave themselves a strange liberty of inveigh-
ing against this practice of occasional Communion, as irrational,
unchristian, and altogether unaccountable, and self-condemning.
And it at length became a question, whether they that could at all
and in any case worship God with the Church of England, should
not be obliged to do it for a constancy, or else be incapacitated
from holding any place either of profit or trust 1 And when things
were come to this pass, and the Occasional Bill was first brought
into the House of Commons in 17Q2, Mr. Howe committed his
thoughts to writing in the following paper :]
A CASE.
Two sorts of Christian Assemblies are wont to meet, severally, for
the worship of God, which both hold all the same articles of doc-
trine taught by Christ or his apostles ; and use the same institutions
of worship appointed by them : only they differ in this, that the one
sort use also some rites, not so appointed, which the other use not.
Two Gentlemen, Sir T and Sir J , are of equal estates :
but Sir T ■ lives not so regularly, more seldom comes to the
worship of God in any Christian assembly ; yet when he doth, re-
sorts only to one of the former sort.
Sir J is a sober virtuous person, of approved piety, pru-
dence, justice, fortitude, and who publickly worships God, some-
times in the one sort of assembly, and sometimes in the other.
The question is not, whether some lewd and vicious persons may
not frequent both sorts of assemblies ; nor whether some sober and
pious persons may not frequent those of the former sort only.
But whether Sir J ought to be rendered incapable of serv-
ing the Government, (to which he hath constantly expressed him-
self well affected) in any station civil or military, for this single
reason, because he sometimes worships God in assemblies of the
latter sort; (whether it be his infelicitv, ill-humour, or mistake
whereof yet he is not convinced :) while Sir T (who is as little
convinced of his ill life) is left capable 1 At least if the one be
incapable, should not both ?
But if the question be determined the other way, monstrous !
How will that determination of an English Parliament stand in the
lxxviii
annals of future time ! How will wiser posterity blush they had
such progenitors ! For can it be supposed, a nation will be always
drunk ? Or if ever it be sober, will it not be amazed, there ever
was a time, when a few ceremonies, of which the best thing that
ever was said was that they were indifferent, have enough in them
to outweigh all religion, all morality, all intellectual endowments,
natural or acquired, which may happen in some instances to be on
the wrong side, (as it must now be reckoned) when on the other, is
the height of profaneness, and scorn at religion ; the depth of de-
bauchery and brutality, with half a wit, hanging between sense
and nonsense : only to cast the balance the more creditable way,
there is the skill to make a leg, to dance to a fiddle, nimbly to
change gestures, and give a loud response, which contain the an-
swer for the villanies of an impure life !
If those little pieces of church-modishness have so much in them
of real value, in all these are they not well enough paid by the
whole church - revenues of England, without stigmatizing every
body that so much admires them not ?
And while divers of real worth live upon charity, some with diffi-
culty getting, others (educated to modesty) with greater difficulty
begging their bread !
Kut do those who are not contented to ingross all the legal
emoluments, think there is no God in heaven, that knows their
large promises, at the beginning of this Revolution, of great abate-
ments in their church constitution ; when now, without abating
one hair, they must have all conformed to it in every punctilio, or
be (as much as in them is) made infamous, and the scorn of the
nation ?
But I draw a veil, and a;n not for dilating upon this matter.
I shall only add, that as the Dissenters have been considerable
losers, as to their interest as a party, by this occasional conformity,
and might easily from the first foresee that they should be so, they
appear to me to have acted a very generous part in practising and
defending it : and yet they have met Avith most unbrotherly treat-
ment on this account from those to whom they were Avilling to ap-
proach as near as they could, while some have run them down
upon this account as perfect hypocrites ; and others have repre-
sented this occasional conformity as no commendable charity, as
long as they did not come up to constant conformity, and yield the
cause to them entirely. If this is doing as men would be done
unto, it is very strange ! Posterity it is to be hoped will judge
more favourably. However after such treatment, so oft repeated,
and so long continued, if the Dissenters should for the future be
more sparing in this way of shewing their charity, which they to
whom they would express it, seem so resolved to misinterpret, I
think it cannot be very surprising : and if it should be attended
with any ill consequences, I doubt these Gentlemen will find they
must lie at their doors at last.
Ixxix
Mr. Howe's Introduction or Preface to his last Will and
Testament.
I, John Howe, minister of the Gospel of Christ, in serious con-
sideration (though through God's mercy in present health) of my
frail and mortal state, and cheerfully waiting (blessed be God) for
a seasonable unfeared dissolution of this my earthly tabernacle,
and translation of the inhabiting spirit, into the merciful hands of
the great God, Creator, Lord of heaven and earth, whom I have
taken to be my God, in and with his only begotten Son, Jesus
Christ, who is also over all God blessed for ever, and my dear
and glorious Redeemer and Lord : With and by the Holy Spirit
of grace, my light, life, and joy; relying entirely and alone,
upon the free and rich mercy of the Father, vouchsafed on the
account of the most invaluable sacrifice and perfect righteousness -
of the Son, applied unto me according to the Gospel covenant by
the Spirit, for the pardon of the many seriously repented sins of
a very faulty fruitless life, and the acceptance of my person,
with my sincere, though weak desires and endeavours to do him
service in this world, especially as my calling, wherewith he
graciously honoured me, did more particularly require, in pro-
moting the welfare and salvation of the precious souls of men.
Vol. ii. p. 30. 1. 3. (head of Chap. II.) /or correct read corrupt.
iii. p. 12. 1. nit. /or given being had read had given being.
— — vii. p. 551. dele the last line.
A
discoursp;
COXCERNIXG
THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
OVER
%\)t 3MqMz WBqx\%
AXD
THE ENTRANCE THEREINTO BY DEATH.
SOME PART WHEREOF WAS fREACHED ON OCCASION OF
THE DEATH
JOHN HOGHTON, Esa.
ELDEST SON OF SIR CHARLES HOGHTON, OF HOGHTON-TOWER, IN THE COl'NTY
OF LANCASTER, BARONET.
VOL. I.
TO THE
MOST DESERVEDLY HONOURED,
AND
TRULY HONOURABLE,
SIR CHARLES AND THE LADY MARY
HOGHTON,
OF HOGHTON-TOWER.
Grace, Mercy, and Peace, &c.
"VTOU will, I know, count it no indecency, that, when God hath so
nearly, many years ago, joined you in relation, in affection, and now
so lately, in the affliction equally common to you both, I do also join your
names on the same paper, and make this solemn address to you together.
It is by the inestimable favour of Heaven, that the mutual interest God
hath given yon in each other, as it obligeth, doth also (as I have great
reason to hope) effectually dispose and enable you, not only to partake in
the comforts, but in the sorrows, that are common to you both, so as that
the former shall be greatly increased, and the latter proportionably al-
layed and mitigated, thereby. Thus is the advantage of your conjugal
state both represented in God's designation, and apprehended in your own
experience.
And you are to consider the blessing of God herein as having a pecu-
liarity in it, not being extended to all so related, neither to all that were
great in this world, nor to all that were pious and good. Great worldly
felicity hath been rendered insipid and spiritless; and great calamities,
much more bitter, by the want of a meet mutual helpfulness between
such relations.
A great and good man (Job I. 1.) in his time; a prince, as he is thought
to have been, in his country; " a man that was perfect, and upright, one
that feared God, and eschewed evil;" when he lost not one, not the eldest,
only, of his numerous offspring, (as you have,) but, all at once, seven
sons and three daughters, with such concomitant circumstances of accu-
mulated afflictions, as, blessed be God, are not in your case; aud might
now expect some relief from his other self, the nearest and most inward
companion of his life, and partaker of his joys aud sorrows; all the sue
cour he had from her, was an impious endeavour to provoke and irritate
his spirit; that taunting scoff, " Dost thou still retain thy integrity >" and
that horrid advice, " Curse God and die." Whereas that rational, reli-
gious, soul-composing thought, " Shall we receive good at the hand of
$ DEDICATION.
God, and shall we not receive evil?" was deeply fixed in the mind of the
one: how much more effectually relieving had it been, if it had circulated
between both the relatives; and they had alternately propounded and
enlarged upon it to one another !
With you, I cannot doubt, it hath been so; and that you have made
it your business to improve your mutual interest, not to aggravate, but
to alleviate your affliction to each other.
You have, both of you, great occasion and obligation to revolve and
recount to each other the many good things you have received at the
hand of Cod, to mitigate what there is of evil in this dispensation,.
Both of you have sprung of religious and honourable families, favoured
of God, valued and beloved in the countries where he had planted them.
They have been both, seats of religion, and of the worship of God: the
resorts of his servants: houses of mercy to the indigent, of justice to the
vitious, of patronage to the sober and virtuous, and of good example to
all about them.
You were both dedicated to God early, and he gave early testimony
of his accepting the dedication. He began with you both betimes, bless-
ing your education, and owning you for hi*, by disposing and forming
your spirits to own betimes the God of your fathers. He hath blessed
you indeed, adding the spiritual blessings in heavenly things, to your
many earthly comforts. This, Jabez might mean, not content with a
common blessing; and the more probably, from the acceptance he found,
1 Chron. 4. 0, 10. God granted his request, as Solomon's, when his re-
quest was as little vulgar, 1 Kings S. 10.
You both concurred in the dedication of this your son, as in the rest
of yours; and I doubt not with great seriousness, you covenanted with
God in Christ, to be his God. And if he enabled you to be in good
earnest herein, even that was of special grace and favour, and ought to
come into the account of the many good things you have received of
God's hand; as offering to God willingly, did in the estimate of David,
when the oblation was of a meaner kind, 1 Chron. 20. 14.
But then you ought to consider, what the import and meaning was of
that your covenant, wherein you accepted God in Christ to be the God
of your son; and dedicated him to God through Christ to be his. Was
it not absolute, and without limitation, that God should be a God to him
entirely and without reserve, and that he should be his absolutely, and
be disposed of by him at his pleasure? Otherwise, there was a repug-
nancy and contradiction in the very terms of your covenant. To be a
God to him! Is nn^fiW,- the name of a Being incapable of limitation ?
Doth it not signify infinite, unlimited power and goodness? To be a God
to any one, therefore, under restriction, is to be a God to him, and no
God. And so to covenant with God, can neither have sincerity in it,
nor good sense. He can be under no restraint in the exercises of his
power and goodness towards any to whom he vouchsafes to be their God
in covenant; but what he is ^Teased to lay upon himself, which must be
from his own wisdom and good pleasure, to which in covenanting we re-
fer ourselves ; with particular faith — in reference to what he hath expressly
promised; and with general^- that all shall be well, where his promise is
not express. But from ourselves, nothing can be prescribed to him. He
must be our all, or nothing; in point of enjoyment, as our sovereign, all-
comprehending good; in point of government, as our sovereign, all-dis-
Dedication. 5
posing Lord. So we take him, in covenanting with him for ourselves
and ours: for he so propounds and offers himself to us. If we accept
and take him accordingly, there is a covenant between him and us; other-
wise we refuse him, and there is no covenant. When he promises, as to
his part, he promises his all; to be God all-sufficient to us; to be ours in
all his fulness, according to our measure and capacity: we are dot straiten-
ed in him, but in ourselves. He undertakes to be to us, and do for us, all
that it belongs to him, as a God, to be and do. To give us grace and
glory, (Ps. 84. 11.) about which, there can be no dispute or doubt: they
are always and immutably good; and to withhold from us no good thing:
here, are comprehended, with the former, inferior good things, about
which, because they are but mutably, and not always good, there may
be a doubt, whether now and in present circumstances, they will be
good for us, or not. And now, it belongs to him, as he is to do the part
ofaGodtous, to judge and determine for us, (for which he alone is
competent, as being God only wise, and otherwise he were not God all-
sufficient,) and not to leave that to us, who arc so apt to be partial and
mistaken in our judgment.
But when he make= his demand from us, of what we on our part are to
be, and do, he demands our all, absolutely ; that we surrender ourselves and
ours, whatsoever we are and have, to his pleasure and disposal, without other
exception or restriction than by his promise he hath laid upon himself.
Nor are we to think it strange there should be this difference, in the
tenour of his covenant, between his part and ours. For we are to remem-
ber, that the covenant between him and us is not as of equals. He co-
venants as God; we, as creatures: He, according to the universal, infinite
perfection and all-sufficiency of a God; we, according to the insufficiencv,
imperfection, and indigency of creatures.
These things were, 1 doubt not, all foreknown, and I hope considered,
by you, when you so solemnly transacted with God, concerning this your'
son; wherein you could not but then take him for your God, as well as
his God. It needs now only to be applied to the present case; and it
manifestly admits this application, namely, That this his disposal of him,
in taking him now up to himself, to be glorified by him, and to glorify
him in the heavenly state, was a thing then agreed upon by solemn
covenant, between God and you. It was done by your own virtual and
imretracted consent. The substance of the thing was agreed to ex-
pressly; that God should be his God, and finally make him happy and
blessed in himself. But if you say, that you would only have had his
complete blessedness yet a while deferred ; I will only say, Could you
agree with that God whose he was, and whose you are, about the sub-
stance of so great a transaction ; and now differ with him about a cir-
cumstance? And besides, all circumstances must be comprehended in
your agreement. For, taking him to be your God, you take him to \k-
supreme Disposer in all things, and his will to be in every thing the
rule and measure of yours; which you have expressly consented to as often
as you have prayed, either in the words, or after the tenour, of thai
prayer, wherein our Lord hath taught us to sum up our desires, and re-
present the sense of our hearts.
But besides the duty that is, -both by his law, and by covenant-agree-
ment, owing to God, it is also to be considered as a high dignity put
upon you, to be the covenanted parents of a glorified son; a matter of
O DEDICATION.
greater boast, than if you could say, " Our son" (to repeat what I for*
inerly wrote) " is one of the greatest princes on earth !"
How far should Paganism be outdone by Christianity, which exhibits
to our view death abolished, and life and immortality brought to light,
by Jesus Christ, in the gospel! 2 Tim. 1. 10. Which sets before us all
the glories of the other world in a bright representation! Which, if we
believe, that faith will be to us, the substance of what -we hope for, and
the evidence of what we see not, Heb. 11.1. Thus, though you saw not
the kind reception and abundant entrance of this son of your delights
into the everlasting kingdom, it will yet be a thing evident to you, and
your faith will render it a great and most substantial reality. Pagans had
but obscure glimmerings of such things; and in such afflicting cases, when
they did occur, comparatively lank and slender supports, yet such as
were not to be despised.
Should I transcribe what I find written in way of consolation, by
Plutarch to Apollonius, upon the loss of a son, you would see what would
give both instruction and admiration. I shall mention some passages,
lie praises the young person deceased, for his comeliness, sobriety, piety,
duti fulness towards parents, and obligingness towards friends ; he acknow-
ledges that sorrow, in the case of losing such a son, hath (<pyo-/x>iv i.^yj^') a
principle in nature, and is of the things that are (ovx. Itf vf/tv) not in our power,
or which we cannot help; that to be destitute of it is neither possible nor
fit; that an apathy, or insensibleness, in such a case, is no more desirable
than that we should endure to have a limb, a part of ourselves, cut or
torn off from us, without feeling it. But yet he affirms, that immoderate
sorrow, upon such an occasion, is (zrxpx (pian) preternatural, and hath a
pravity in it, and proceeds from a misinformed mind; that we ought in
any such case to be neither (aTafitiV, nor Sva-TrotQtTs) unaffected, nor ///
atfecfed. He tells his friend a story (the meaning whereof is more consi-
derable to us, than the credit of it, as perhaps it was to him) concerning,
two Grecian youths, Cleobis and Biton, whose mother having a duty to
perform in the temple of Juno, and the mules not being at hand, at the
instant when she expected them to draw her chariot thither, they most
officiously drew it themselves; with which act of piety, their mother was
so transported, that she made her request to Juno, on their behalf, that
if there were any thing more desirable unto mortals than another, she
would therewith reward her sons; who, thereupon, threw them into a
sleep, out of which they awoke no more : thereby signifying, that death
was the best gift that could be bestowed upon persons of such supposed
piety as they !
To wdiich purpose, is what he relates concerning the death of Euthy-
nous, an Italian referred to, towards the close of the following discourse,
son and heir to the ample estate of Elysius, a person of principal dignity
among the Terimeans; to whom, anxiously inquiring of diviners con-
cerning the cause of this calamity, the spectre of his son, introduced by
his father, appeared in his sleep, shewing him certain Greek verses, the
sum whereof was, Thy inquiry is foolish.
The minds of men are vain, Euthynous rests by a kindly decreed death,
Because his living longer, had neither been good for him nor his parents.
He afterwards adds, A good man, when he dies, is worthy, not so much
of lamentations, as of hymns and praises.
DEDICATION. 7
He animadverts upon the aptness of parents to quarrel with any circum-
stances of a son's death, be the}' what they will. If he die abroad, then the
aggravation is, that neither the father nor the mother had opportunity to
close his eyes ; if at home, then, How is he plucked away, even out of our
hands !
He gives divers memorable instances, of sundry great persons, bearing,
with strange composure of mind, the same kind of affliction. I omit what
he wrote to his wife on their loss of a child : as also to recite many very
instructive passages out of Seneca writing to Marcia, on the same ac-
count, by way of consolation for her loss of a son, and to Helvia, for
her loss in the same kind ; to Polybius, having lest a near rela-
tion, &c.
But we have the oracles of God, and do, too commonly, less need to
receive instruction from Heathens than deserve to be reproached by them;
that there is so frequent cause for the complaint of that ancient worthy
CHierom.) in the Christian church; Non prastat Fides quod prebstitit
Jnfdelitas — Tite infidelity of Pagans performs greater things than the
faith of Christians. Their sedate temper, their mastery over turbulent
passions, may in many instances shame our impotency and want of self-
government, in like cases.
For who of them have ever had, or could have, so great a thing to say,
as is said to us by the word of the Lord, for this very purpose, " that we
may not sorrow concerning them that are asleep, even as others who have
no hope : for if we believe that Jesus died, and rose again, even so, them
also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say to
you," (and it is said by the forementioned authority ; the Lord himself
having revealed it to this great apostle, and directed him to say it,) " that
we who are alive, and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not pre-
vent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend- from
heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump
of God; and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which areaiive,
and remain, shall be caught up, together with them, in the clouds, to meet
the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore
comfort one another with these words," 1 Thess. 4. 13 — 18.
I have transcribed these few verses, that they might readily appear to
present view. And because all their efficacy, and all our advantage by
them, depend upon our believing them, let us closely put the question to
ourselves, Do we believe them, or do we not ? The apostle seems to design
the putting us upon this self-reflection, by inserting the supposition, //"
•tue believe ; as if he should say, This will effectually do the business of al-
laying all our hopeless sorrow. For if we believe that one fundamental
truth, (and therefore let us see whether we do or no,) of Christ's dying
and rising again, it will draw such a train of consequences, all tending to
fill our souls with a vital joy, as will leave no place for undue sorrow any
longer. That faith will be still urging and carrying us forward, will make
us wholly intent upon prospect and expectation. What are we now to look
for upon such a foundation, so firmly laid, and fully believed ? If we be-
lieve that Jesus died ! He did not submit to die without a design; and
his rising again, speaks him Master of his design ; and that he hath it now
entirely in his power. He died not for himself, but for them he was to
redeem ! And being now risen again, what must become of them ? All
that follows, is now matter of glorious triumph !
8 DEDICATION.
If Plato, Plutarch, or Seneca, had but once had such a revelatiow
from heaven as this, and that ground to believe it, that we have, how
full would their writings have been of it! How had the)- abounded in
lofty paraphrases upon every period and word of it!
The faith of such things would surely make a truly Christian heart so.
earnestly press forward in the expectation of the great things still to ensue,
as to leave it little leisure for retrospection. And this is the source of all our
intemperate sorrow, in such a case as this — our framing to ourselves pleas-
ing suppositions of being as we were, with such and such friends and rela-
tives about us as we heretofore enjoyed. As hope of what is future and
desirable, feeds our joy *, so memory of good things past, doth our sorrow.
Jn such a case as this, which the apostle here speaks to, the decease of our
dear friends and relatives fallen asleep, we are apt to look back with a
lingering eye upon the former state of things, and to say, as he, O milii
preterkos — O that God "Would recal for me the years that are goue over /
— Or, as in sacred language, " O that I were as in months past — when the
secret of God was upon my tabernacle; when the Almighty was yet with
me; when my children were about me !■" Job 29. 1 — 6.
What pleasant scenes do we form to ourselves afresh, of past things, on
purpose to foment present sorrow ! And whether we have that design or
no, we are more prone to look back to former things which we have known,
than forward to future which we know not; especially, if the further we
look back, the less we find of trouble intermingled in our former course.
A smooth and pleasant path, "we would go over again, if reason and the
necessity of affairs, do not recal us, and urge us forward.
And so, Sir, might you find matter for a very copious and not ungrate-
ful recollection, to call over again, and revolve in your thoughts the plea-
sures of vour youth, (more innocent than of many others,) when vou
were incumbered with no cares, entertained with various delights of one
sort and another, in this or that pleasant seat of your parents. But how
remote is it from you, upon consideration, to wish yourself back into your
juvenile state and circumstances! How much more generous and God-
like a pleasure is it, to be doing good in the world, and still to abound
therein; to go forward, and do still more and more !
And, Madam, who could have a more pleasant retrospect upon former
days than you, recounting your Antrim delights, the delight you took in
your excellent relations, your garden-delights, your closet-delights, vour
Lord's-days'-delights ! But how much greater a thing is it to serve God in
your present station ; as the mother of a numerous and hopeful offspring ;
as the mistress of a large family; where you bear your part, with your
like-minded consort, in supporting the interest of God and religion, and
have opportunity of scattering blessings round about you !
But our business is not recurring, or looking back. God is continually
calling us forward. Time is a stream running on towards the vast oceux!.
Tending backward, is vain striving against the stream. And as it is the
course and method of nature, of providence, and grace, to tend forward,
and carry us from less, to greater things in this world ; so do all these con-
spire to carry us on (because our uv.ysh, our highest pitc'i, cannot be
here) to yet far greater things in the greater world. Of which Vast world,
it is the design of the following discourse to give you some account; though,
God knows, it is but a very imperfect one. Such as it is, if God only
make it an occasion to you, of fixing your minds and hearts upon that
DEDICATION*. 9
mighty tlicme, you will find it easy and pleasant to you to amplify upon it
and enlarge it to yourselves. And thereby, through God's blessing, I doubt
not, arrive to a fulness of satisfaction concerning this late dispensation,
which hath a gloom upon it ; but is in very deed only gloomy on one side,
namely, downwards, and towards this wretched world, this region of sorrow
and darkness : but on the side upwards, and towards that other world which
casts its lustre upon it, its phasis and appearance will be altogether
bright and glorious. And the more you look by a believing intuition into
that other world where our blessed Redeemer and Lord bears rule in so
transcendent glory, the more will you be above all the cloudy darkness
of this event of providence towards yourselves and your family. Herein,
your perusal of this very defective essay may he of some use to you. And
I reckoned it might be of more lasting and permanent use to you, and
yours after you, and to as many others into whose hands it might fall, as
a little book, than as one single sermon.
You will, however, I doubt not, apprehend in it the sincere desire to
assist vou in this your present difficult trial ; followed by the faithful en-
deavour of,
Most honoured in the Lord,
Your very respectful and obliged servant,
In him,
And for his sake,
JOHN HOWE.
May 17, 1699.
vol. 1.
THE
REDEEMER'S DOMINION,
4>c.
Rev. 1. IS.
And have the keys of hell (Hades, or the unseen world)
and of death.
THE peculiar occasion of this present solemnity, (I mean,
that is additional to the usual business of the Lord's-day,)
may be somewhat amusing to narrower and less considering
minds ; namely, That I am now to take notice to you of (what
I he most Avould call) the premature or untimely death of a most
hopeful young gentleman, the heir of a very considerable fa-
mily, greatly prepared by parts and pious sentiments, and
further preparing by study and conversation, to be useful to
the age, cut off in his prime, when the mere shewing him *
to the world had begun to raise an expectation, in such as
knew him, of somewhat more than ordinary hereafter from
him, his future advantageous circumstances being considered,
of which you will hear further towards the close of this discourse.
Nor did I know any passage in the whole sacred volume,
more apt to serve the best and most valuable purpose in such a
case, than the words now read ; none more fitted to enlarge
our minds, to compose them, and reduce to a due temper even
theirs who are most concerned, and most liable to be disturbed,
or to instruct us all how to interpret and comment aright upon
so perplexing and so intricate a providence as this, at the first
and slighter view, may seem unto us.
In order whereto, our business must be to explain and apply
this most weighty and aAvful saying.
First, For the explication, these three things are to be in-
quired into.
* Ostendunt terris hunc tantum, fata nee ultra esse sinunt — The gods
have just shewn him to the world, and permitted him to be seen no
more. Virg.
12 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
I. Who it is that claims and asserts to himself this power
here spoken of.
II. What it is about which this claimed power is to be con-
versant.
III. What sort of power it is that this emblematical expres-
sion signifies to belong- to him.
I. Who it is that claims the power here spoken of ; where
the inquiry is not so much concerning the person that makes
this claim, which all the foregoing context puts out of ques-
tion to be our Lord Christ ; but touching the special notion and
capacity wherein he claims it, and according whereto it must
be understood to belong to him.
And whereas he is described by very distinct titles and at-
tributes, promiscuously interwoven in the preceding verses
of the chapter, namely, that sometimes he is introduced
speaking in the style of a God ; (as v. 8, I am Alpha
and Omega, the Beginning and the Ending, saith the Lord,
which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Al-
mighty. And again, v. 11, I am Alpha and Omega;) but
that sometimes he is represented in the form of a man, and
accordingly described even from head to foot, and said to ap-
pear in the vision that exhibits him as one like the Son of
man, that we might certainly understand him so to be, v. 13
— 16". And such things said of him as are incident to a mortal
man, the shedding of his blood, v. 5, and that he was dead,
v. 18, former part. Yea and expressions of this different
import intermingled, that we might know it was the same Per-
son who was continued to be spoken of under these so
vastly different characters ; as, 1 am the first and the last ; 1
am he that liveth and was dead, si. 17, 18. We may there-
upon very reasonably conclude that he is not here to be con-
ceived under the one notion or the other, neither as God nor
as man, separately or exclusively of each other ; but as both
together, as Qtd^^uiros, as God-man, under which conjunct
notion, he receives and sustains the office of our Redeemer,
and Mediator between God and man.
This will enable us the more clcaily to answer the third in-
quiry, when we come to it, concerning the kind of that power
which is here claimed ; and which, because there can be no
doubt of the justice of his claim, we are hereby taught to as-
cribe to him.
For the management whereof, we are also hence to reckon
him everyway competent ; that he waspar negotio, that it was
not too big for him ; no expressions being used to signify his
OYER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. (.*>
true humanity, but which are joined with others, as appro-
priate to deity. And that nothing therefore obliges us to narrow
it more than the following account imports, which we are next
to inquire about ; namely,
II. The large extent of the object about which the power
he here claims is to be conversant ; that is, Hades (the un-
seen world) and death.
The former of these, we with a debasing limitation, and, as
I doubt not will appear, very unreasonably, do render hell.
The poAver belonging to Christ, we are elsewhere taught to
conceive, is of unspeakably greater latitude. And here we
are not taught to confine it to so vile and narrow limits, as
this translation gives it. All things in the context conspire to
magnify him, and, agreeably hereto, to magnify his dominion.
"When therefore the apparent design is to speak him great,
that he should only be represented as the Jailor of devils, and
their companions, is, to me, unaccountable ; unless a very
manifest necessity did induce to it.
From the word £hs — hades, there can be no pretence for it.
Though it ought to be extended, it is by no means to be re-
strained to that sense : which as it is the most ignoble, so it,
will appear but a very small, minute, part of its signification ;
whether we consider the literal import, or the common use, of
the word.
Literally, it signifies only what we see not, or what is out
of our sight. But as the word of which it is compounded sig-
nifies also to know, as well as to see, it may further signify,
that state of things which lies without the compass of our
knowledge, even out of the reach of our mental sight ; or
concerning which, though we are to believe what is revealed,
we cannot immediately or distinctly know it ; and in reference
whereto, therefore, we are to walk by faith, not by sight, 2
Cor. 5. 7.
And the common use of the word has been very agreeable
hereto, with writers of all sorts ; that is, to signify indefinitely
the unseen world ; or the state of the deceased out of our world,
who are, consequently, gone out of our sight, whether they
were good or bad : so as not peculiarly to signify hell, or any
place or state of torment, only.
It were easy to abound in quotations to this purpose, if it
were either needful or proper in a discourse of this nature.
What I intend in this kind, I shall only set down on the
bye in the margin, upon which they that will may cast their
14 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
eye j * (hat the discourse be not interrupted as to others, that
either have no need to be informed in this matter, having
known as much before as can be now told them ; or no inclina-
tion to be diverted from their present purpose in reading ; ap-
* And here it may suffice to take notice, that Greek writers, poets,
philosophers, historians, and other writers*, that have made only occa-
sional mention of this word oil-ns, or of the words next akin to it, a\s, or
eLllrts, or lexicographers, that have purposely given an account of it, from
Creek authors, that must be supposed best to understand the use of words
in their own tongue ; generally such as have not been engaged in a con-
troversy, that obliges men usually to torture words to their own sense, or
to serve the hypothesis which they had espoused; have been remote from
confining this, or the cognate words, to that narrow sense as only to sig-
nify a place or state of torment for bad men, but understood it as com-
prehending, also, a state of felicity for the pious and good.
For such as have been concerned in interpreting this or other like
words with reference to the known and famous controversy, which I need
not mention, their judgments must weigh according to the reputation
they are of with the reader.
The Greeks, no doubt, best understood their own language. And
among them can we think that Homer in the beginning of his first Iliad,
when he speaks of the many brave souls of his heroes, those 'tiphi^ai \\,vya.\ t
whicli the war he is describing sent into the invisible regions, «i'S; mpoix-^ev,
that he ever dreamt they were all promiscuously dispatched away to a
place of torment? Not to mention other passages where he uses the word
tcZys to the same purpose. Divers others of the Greek poets are cited by
several ready to our hands, with which I shall not cumber these pages.
That one is enough, and nothing can be fuller to our purpose, which is
quoted by Clemens Alexandrinus Stromata, liber 5. as well as by sundry
others, and ascribed to the comic Diphilus, though by others to Philemon.
YLoct yap v.x§ aJr,v Suo rptfitis vo/t/./^o/^^
M/aty oiy.xt'uv, x.xripa.1 <x<Te(3vi> ouov.
In hades we reckon there are two paths, the one of the righteous, the
other of the wicked; plainly shewing that hades was understood to con-
tain heaven and hell. Plato, when in his Phardo he tells us that he that
comes into hades, dpvnros, y.xi arixt^os, not initiated and duly prepared,
is thrown into Bogfiogcs, a stin/ci?ig lake, but he that comes into it fitly-
purified, shall dwell with the gods; as expressly signifies hades to include
the same opposite states of misery and felicity. In that dialogue called
Axiochus, though supposed not to be his, written by one thai sufficiently
knew the meaning of such a word, we are told that when men die they
are brought into the rico/ov dXvQeiocs, the field of truth, where sit judges
that examine rlvx /3/oy, what manner of life every one lived while he
dwelt in the body, that they who, while they lived here, were inspired
by a good genius or spirit, go into the region of pious men, having before
they came into hades been purified. Such as led their lives wickedly are
hurried by furies up and down chaos, in the region of the wicked. In
the third Book dv Republica, Plato blames the poets that they represent
the itate of things in hades too frightfully, when they should (x&xXoy hrsuapt*
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 15
prehending that what is generally told them, only concerning
the usual signification of a word, is not said without some
ground. And let texts of Scripture be consulted about that,
how hades, and the correspondent word sheol, in the old Tes-
tament, are used there. If we take the help of interpreters,
the impartial reader is to judge of their fidelity and ability
who go our way. *
praise it rather. Plutarch de Super •stitione brings in Plato speaking of
hades, as a person, or a God, Di, or Pluto, as they frequently do, and
says he is (piKx-v^Pwnos, benign or friendly to men ; therefore not a tormentor
of them only. Ca-lius Rhodigin. quotes this same passage of Plutarch, and
takes notice that our Saviour speaks of the state of torment by another
word, not fades, but Gehenna; which sufficiently shews how he under-
stood it himself.
And whereas there are who disagree to this notation of this word, that
makes it signify unseen, as some will fetch it from the Hebrew, and go
as tar back as Adam in their search, alleging for this the authority of an
old Sibyll, others will have it go for iww, and signify as xri^vs, w«-
pleasant; nothing is plainer than that this other is the common notion,
■which (though fancy hath not a greater dominion in any thing than in
etymology) would make one shy of stretching invention to find how to
differ from the generality. Therefore Calepin, upon this word, tells us
that the Greek grammarians do, against the nature of the Etymon, (which
plainly enough shews what they understood that to be,) generally direct its
beginning to be written with the spiritus asper, but yet he makes it signify
obscure, or not visible. And though Plato is endeavoured to be hooked
into the deriving it from Adam by a very far fetch; yet it is plain that
his calling it tottov uonXov, in a place before referred to, shews he under-
stood it to signify invisible : and so lexicons will commonly derive it
{Vu'go, says Cevlius Rhodig.J . But its extensiveness, as comprehending
a state of happiness, is our principal concern, which way (as we might
shew by many more instances) the common stream carries it. Pausanias
in his 'APKAA1KA, speaking of Hermes (accoiding to Homer) as Atos
6IO.X.0V0V, and that he did lead souls 11770 tov o3w, could not be thought to
mean that they were then univcrsallv miserable. Sextus Empiricus is an
authority good enough for the meaning of a Greek word. When writing
against mathematicians, he tells us, though bv way of objection, all men
have a common notion z:tpi rut h oc$a, (using the genitive with n t as Ho-
mer, and others do, another word, house or abode, in the dative, being
understood,) and yet, as to the thing, he afterwards distinguishes poets'
fables, and what, from the nature of the soul itself, all have a common
apprehension of. As also Diogenes Laertius has the same phrase, men-
tioning the writings of Protagoras, who, he says, wrote one book tstfi rut
h «J«, using the genitive, as here, after h, as hath been usual, on the
mentioned account. And though his books were burnt by the Athenians,
because of the dubious title of one of them concerning the gods, so that
we have not opportunity to know what his opinion of hades was, we have
feason more than enough, to think he understood it not of a state of tor«
Encnt only for evil spirits.
* Primate Usher's judgment may be seen in his answer to the Jesuits'
16 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
Upon the whole, it being most evident that hell is but a
Small and mean part of -what is signified by hades, it will be
very unreasonable to represent or conceive of the power here
ascribed to our Lord, according to that narrow notion of it.
And would be a like incongruity, as if, to magnify the person
of highest dignity in the court of a mighty prince, one should
say, " He is the keeper of the dungeon."
The word itself, indeed, properly taken, and according to
its just extent, mightily greatcns him. It is as much as to say,
His dominion is of unknown limits ; such as no eye can mea-
sure. We think with a sort of veneration, of what is repre-
sented as too big for our knowledge. We have a natural awe
and reverence for unsearchable darkness. But in the mean
time we herein suffer a just diminution of ourselves, that when
our inquiry stops, and can proceed no further, it being but a
very little part of the universe that lies within our compass,
having tired our inquiring eye and mind ; upon all the rest we
write, Hades; call it unseen, or unknown. And because Ave
call it so, God himself, in reference to us, calls it so too ; it
being his way, (as is observed by that noted Jew, Maimo-
nidcs,) speaking to men, to use the tongue of the children of
men, to speak to them in their own language, and allow them
to coin their own words : which at first they often do very oc-
challenge, that this word properly signifies the other world, the place or
state of the dead — so that heaven itself may be comprehended in it.
Grotius, on Luke 16. 23, makes hades most certainly to signify a place
withdrawn from our sight; spoken of the body, the grave; of the soul,
all that region wherein it is separate from the body. So that as Dives
was in hades, so was Lazarus too, but in separate regions: for both }>a-
radise, and hell, or, as the Grecians were wont to speak, Eh/su, and
Tnrtara, were in hades. You may have in him more quotations from the
poets, the sense of the Essenes from Josephus, and passages from divers
of the fathers to the same purpose. Dr. Hammond's mind was the same,
copiously expressed on Matth. 11. 23; but differs from Grotius, in ascrib-
ing to Philemon the iambicks above recited, which the other gives to
Diphilus. Dr. Lightfoot is full to the same purpose, on the 4th Article
of the Greed. And though Beliarmin will have this word always signify
tull, (which if it do, with sheol the correspondent word; Jacob desired to
go to hell to his son, as Dr. Hammond argues;) ('amero, as good a judge,
thinks, except once, it never does. If any desire to see more to this
purpose with little trouble to themselves, let them peruse Martinius's
•lexicon on (he word inform, or inferuus. I could refer them to many
mo>e whom 1 forbear to mention.
Only if any think in some or other text of Scripture this word must
signify am only, since it is of that latitude as to signify heaven in other
places, an impartial view of the circumstances of the text must determine
whether there it he meant of the one, or the other, or both.
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 17
casionally ; nor, as to this, could tliey have a fairer or a mora
Urgent occasion, or that is more self-justifying, than in one
word to say of that other world, that it is hades, or invisible,
when that is truly all that they have to say, or can have any
immediate notice of about it.
It hath therefore its rise from ourselves, and the penury of
our knowledge of things ; and is at once both an ingenuous
confession, with some sort of modest cover, and exense of
our own ignorance : as with geographers, ail that part of this
globe which they cannot describe, is terra incognita. ifnkno;: % >.'
region ; and with philosophers, such phenomena in nature as
they can give no account of, they resolve shortly and in the
most compendious way into some or other occult quality, or
somewhat else, as occult.
How happy were it, if in all matters that concern religion,
and in this, as it does so, they would shut up in a sacred ve-
nerable darkness, what they cannot distinctly perceive ; it be-
ing once by the undeceiving word expressly asserted, that, it is,
without therefore denying its reality, because they clearly ap-
prehend not what it is.
With too many their religion is so little, and their pride
and self-conceit so great, that they think themselves fit to be
standards ; that their eye or mind is of a size large enough to
measure the crention, yea, and the Creator too. And by how
much they have the less left them of mind, or the more it is
sunk into earth and carnality, the more capable it is of being
the measure of all reality, of taking the compass of all being,
created and uncreated. And so that of the philosopher takes
place in the worst sense that can be put upon it ; "to see dark-
ness is to see nothing." All is nullity that their sense reaches
not. Hades is with such, indeed, empty, imaginary dark-
ness ; or in plainer English, there is neither heaven nor hell,
because they see them not.
But we ought to have the greater thoughts of it, not the less.
for its being too big, too great, too glorious, for our present
view : and that it must as yet rest as to us, and so let it rest
a while, under the name of Hades, the unknown dominion of
our great Lord ; according to that most express account he at
his ascension gave of the existence of both parts together, tha£
less known to us, and that more known, Matt. 28. 18. Ali
power is given unto me in heaven and earth.
That death is added, as contained also within the limits of
our Lord's dominion, doth expressly signify his Gustody of
VOL. I. d
J8 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
the passage from this visible world to the invisible. And as he
commands the entrance into each distinct part of hades, the
invisible zvorld, consisting of both heaven and hell, so he hath
poAver over death too, which is the common outlet from this
world, and the passage unto both.
But it withal plainly implies his very absolute power over
this visible world of ours also : for it signifies he hath the power
of measuring every one's time here, and how long each inha-
bitant of this world shall live in it. If it belong to him to de-
termine when any one shall die, it must by consequence belong
to him to assign the portion and dimensum of time that every
one shall live. Nor is there any conceivable moment in the
time of any one's life, wherein he hath not this power of put-
ting a period by death thereunto, at his own pleasure. He is
therefore signified to have the power of every man's life and
death at once : and Hie power of life and death is very high
and great power. He therefore herein implicitly claims, what
is elsewhere expressly ascribed to him, Rom. 14. 7 — 9. None
lives to himself, (that is, de. jure, no man should,) and no
man dieth to himself: for " whether we live, we live unto the
Lord, and whether Ave die, we die unto the Lord ; Avhether Ave
live therefore or die, we axe the Lord's. For to this end
Christ both died, and rose again, and revived, that he might
be Lord, both of the dead and living."
In sum, here is asserted to him a dominion over both worlds ;
this in Avhich we live, and that into which Ave die, whether the
one or the other part of it. And so in reference to men, who
once have inhabited this world, the sense of this text, and
that we are insisting on, is the same. Though hades is of
vastly larger extent than only to be the receptacle of such
as have lived here ; it having also, in both the parts of it,
innumerable inhabitants who never had a dwelling assigned
them in this world of ours at all.
But thus far we have the vast extent of our Lord Christ's do-
minion competently cleared to be the proper intendment of this
text ; and that it. never meant so faint and minute a represen-
tation of it, as only to make him Keeper of the bottomless pit ;
though of that also he hath the key, as Ave shall further take
notice : but are iioav to inquire of what will take up less time.
III. The kind of that power over so vast a realm, or mani-
fold realms, signified by this emblematical expression, of hav-
ing the lej/s, &c.
Every one knows that the keys are insignia ; some of the
4
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 19
tokens of power ; and according to the peculiarity of the
object, may be of divine power.
The Jews, as some writers of their affairs say, appropriate
the keys of three, others of four things to God only : of lite,
or the entrance into this world ; of the rain, or the treasures of
the clouds ; of the earth, say some,* as of the granary of corn ;
and of the grave : " Of which," says one of their own,t " the
Holy, Blessed One hath the keys of the sepulchres in his hand,"
&c. And as we may be sure he admits thither, so he emits from
thence ; and, as he says, "In the future age, the Holy, Blessed
One will unlock the treasures of souls, and will open the graves,
and bring every soul back into its own body," &c.
Nor is this key of the vast hades, when it is in the hand of
our Redeemer, the less in the hand of the Holy, Blessed One ;
for so is he too. But it is in his hand as belonging to his office
of Mediator between God and man, as was before said. And
properly, the phrase signifies ministerial power, being a mani-
fest allusion to the common usage, in the courts of princes, of
intrusting to some great minister the power of the keys ; as it
was foretold of Eliakim, (Isa. 22.) that he should be placed
in the same high station in Hezekiah's court, wherein Shebna
was, of whom so severe things are there said ; and that the
key of the house of David should be laid upon his shoulder,
&c. v. 20 — 22. And the house of David being a known type
of the house or church of God, and he himself of Christ,
who as the Son, hath power over the whole house, according
to this typical way of speaking, our Lord is said (Rev. 3. 7.)
to have fhe'key of David, to open so as none can shut, to shut
so as none can open ; that is, to have a final, decisive power
in all he doth, from which there is no appeal.
Nor could any thing be more congruous, than that having
the keys of the celestial house of God, the heavenly palace of
the Great King, the habitation of his holiness and glory, (in
which are the everlasting habitations, the many mansions, the
places prepared for his redeemed,) he should also have the
keys of the terrestrial Bethel ; which is but a sort of porta/, or
xestibtdum, to the other : the house of God, and the gate of
heaven. And as he is implied to have the keys of this intro-
ducfive, preparatory kingdom of heaven, (as the keys of the
king's palace, where is the throne or seat of government ; and
the keys of the kingdom must mean the same thing,) when he is
said to give them to the apostle Peter, and the other apostles :
this was but a prelude, and a minute instance of his power of
* Weems. t Pirke. R. Eliezer. Edit, per G. H. Vorst- C. F.
20 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
those keys of hades, and of the glorious heavenly kingdom itself
contained therein, which lie was not. to delegate, but to manage
himself immediately in his own person.
If moreover he were signified by the angel, (Rev. 20. 1.)
who was said to have the key of the bottomless pit ; that also
must import a power, though great in itself, yet very little in
comparison of the immense hades, of which lie is here said to
have the keys. So remote is it, that the power ascribed to him
there, should be the measure of what he here asserts to him-
self : and the difference must be vastly greater than it is possi-
ble for us to conceive, or parallel by the difference between
hating power over the palace, and all the most delightful and
most spaciom; territories in the vastest empire of the greatest
prince, and only having power over a dungeon in some obscure
corner of it ; which, for the great purposes whereto all this is
to be applied', we can scarcely too much inculcate.
* &< ( '. \m '■' /, Audio such application let us now, with all possi-
ble seriousness and intention of spirit, address ourselves. This
will consi&t in sundry inferences or deductions, laying before
us some suitable matter, partly of meditation, partly of
practice : the former whereof are to prepare and lay a ground
for the latt< r.
1. Divers thirgs we may collect, that will be very proper
for our deep meditation ; which I shall propose not as things
that we can be supposed not to have known before, but which
are too commonly not enough thought on or considered.
And here we shall somewhat invert the order wherein things
lie in the ierA, beginning with what is there latte? and lower,
and thence arising, with more advantage, to what is higher
and of greater concernment : as,
J. Thai men do not die at random, or by some uncertain,
accidental bye stroke, which, as by a. slip of the hand, cuts
off the thread of lift- ; but by an act of divine determination,
and judgment, which passes in reference to each one's death.
For as the key signifies authority and power, the. turning this
key of death, which gives a man his exit out of this world, is
an authoritative act. And do we consider in what hand this
power is lodged ? We cannot but apprehend every such act
is the < Sect of counsel a»rl judgment.
What philoi ophers are wOut to discourse of fortuitous events
ice to rational agents, or casual, in reference to natural,
tood only with relation to ourselves, and sigui-
' ice of futurities, but can have no place in
• !, as if any thing were a contin-
OVER THE INVISIBLE WOPwLD. 21
gency unto that. As for them that live as if they thought
ihey came into this world by chance, it is very natural
for them to think they shall die and go out of it by chance too,
but when and as it happens. This is worse than Paganish
blindness ; for besides what from their poets, the vulgar have
been made to believe concerning the three fatal Sisters, to whom
they ascribed no less than deity concerned in measuring every
one's life, the grave discourses which some of them have writ-
ten concerning providence, and its extent to the lesser inter-
mediate concerns of life, much more to that their final great
concern of death, will be a standing testimony against the too
prevailing Christian scepticism (they ought to excuse the so-
lecism who make it) of this wretched age ! But such among
us as will allow themselves the liberty to think, want not oppor-
tunity and means by which they may be assured, that not an
imaginary, but real Deity is immediately and constantly con*
cerned in measuring our time in this world. What an awful
thought is this ! And it leads to a
c 2. Inference. That it is a great thing to die. The Son of
God, the Redeemer of man, hath an immediate presidency over
this affair. He signalizes himself by it, who could not sup-
pose that he should be magnified by a trifle ! We slightly say,
Such a one is dead ! Consider the matter in itself, and it is
great. A reasonable soul hath changed states ! An intelligent
spirit is gone out of our world ! The life of a gnat, a fly,
(those little automata, or self-moving things,) how admirable
a production is it ! It becomes no man to despise what no man
can imitate. We praise the pencil that well describes the ex*
Vernal figure of such an animalcuium, such a little; creature ;
but the internal, vital, self-moving power, and the motion
itself, what art can express ! But a human life, how important
a thing is it ! It was one of Plato's thanksgivings, that God
had made him a man ! How careful a guard hath God set over
every man's life, fencing it by the severest law ! " If any man
.shed man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed ;" and how-
weighty is the annexed reason ! " For in the image of God
he made man." This then highly greatens this matter. He
therefore reserves it wholly to himself, as one of his peculiari-
ties, to dispose of such a lire ! " 1 asn he that kills and makes
alive." We find it one of his high titles—" The God of the
spirits of all flesh." He had what was much greater to gloryin,
that he was " the Father of spirits," indefinitely spoken. When
he hath all the heavenly regions, the spacious hades, peopled
w ith such inhabitants " whose dwelling is not With flesh," and,
22 THE REnEEMEIl's DOMINION
for vast multitudes of thorn, never was, who yet, looking 1 down
into this little world of ours, this minute spot of his creation,
and observing that here were spirits dwelling in flesh, he should
please to be styled also the God of those spirits, signifies this
to be with him too an appropriate glory, a glory which he will
not communicate farther than he communicates Godhead ; and
that he held it a divine right to measure the time unto each of
them of their abode in flesh, and determine when they shall
dislodge.
This cannot be thought on aright, without a becoming,
most profound reverence of him on this account. How sharp
a rebuke is given to that haughty prince, " The God in whose
hands thy breath is, hast thou not glorified," Dan. 5. 23.
That would prepare the way, and we should be easily led on,
were we once come to think with reverence, to think also Avith
pleasure of this case, that our life and every breath we draw,
are under such a divine superintendency. The holy psalmist
speaks of it. with high complacency, as the matter of his song,
that he had a God presiding over his life. So he tells us he
would have each wy^i^t^, day find night, composed not
more of night and day, than of -prayer and praise directed
to God under this notion, as the God of his life, Ps. 42. 8.
And he speaks it not grudgingly, but as the ground of his
trust and boast, Ps. 31. 14, 15. — " I trusted in thee, O Lord ;
I said, Thou art my God, my times are in thy hand." That
this key is in the hand of the great Emmanuel — God with
vs, will be thought on with frequency, when it is thought on
with delight.
3. Our life on earth is under the constant strict observation
©four Lord Christ. He waits when to turn the key, and shut
it up. Through the whole of that time, whicli, by deferring,
he measures out to us, we are under his eye as in a state of
probation. He takes continual notice how we acquit ourselves.
For his turning the key at last, is a judicial act; therefore
supposes diligent observation, and proceeds upon it. II ' that
hath this key, is also said in the next chapter, (v. 18.) to have
eyes like a flame of fire. With these he observes what he hath
against one or another, (v. 20.) and with most indulgent
patience gives a space of repentance, (v. 21.) and notes it
down if any then repent, not, as we there also find. Did se-
cure sinners consider this, how he beholds them with a flame
in his eve, and the key in his hand, would they dare still to
irilio ? If they did apprehend how he, in this posture, stands
over them, in all their vain dalliances, idle impertinences, bold
OYER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 25
adventures, insolent attempts against his laws and government,
presumptuous affronts of his high authority ; yea, or but in
their drowsy slumberings, their lingering delays, their neglects
of offered grace ; did they consider what notice he takes how
they demean themselves under every sermon they hear, in
every prayer wherein they are to join with others, or which,
perhaps, for custom's sake, they put up alone by themselves ;
how their hearts are moved, or unmoved, by every repeated
call that is given them to turn to God, and get their peace
made by application of their Redeemer's reconciling blood ;
in what agonies would they be, what pangs of trembling would
they feel within themselves, lest the key should turn before
their great work be done '.
4. Whatsoever ill designs by this observation he discovers,
it is easy to him to prevent. One turn of this key of death,
besides the many other ways that are obvious to him, disap-
points them all, and in that day all their thoughts perish. It
is not therefore from inadvertency, indifferencyj or impotency,
but deep counsel, that they are permitted to be driven on so
far. He that sitteth in the heavens laughs, and he knows their
day is coming. He can turn this key when he will.
5. His power as to every one's death cannot be avoided, or
withstood. The act of this key is definitive, and ends the
business. No man hath power over the spirit to retain the
spirit ; neither hath he power in the day of death, Eccl. 8. 8.
It is in vain to struggle, when the key is turned ; the power of
the keys, where it is supremely lodged, is absolutely decisive,
and their effect permanent and irrevocable. That soul there-
fore for whose exit the key is turned, must thereupon then
forthwith depart, willing or unwilling, ready or unready.
6. Souls that go out of this world of ours, on the turn of
this key, go not out of being. He that hath this key of death,
hath also the key of hades, a key and a key. When he uses
the former, to let them out from this, he uses the latter, to
give them their inlet into the other world, and into the one or
the other part of it ; into the upper or the lower hades, as the
state of their case is, and doth require.
Our business is not now with Pagans, to whom the oracles
of God are unknown. If it were, the best and wisest of them
who so commonly speak of souls' going into hades, never
thought of their going no wbither ; nor therefore that they
were nothing. They had reasons, then, which they thought
cogent, that induced tbein, though unassisted with divine re-
24 the redeemer's dominion
relation, to conclude they survived their forsaken bodies.
And "what else could any unbribed understanding- conclude or
conceive ? When we find they have powers belonging to them,
which we can much more easily apprehend capable of being
acted without help from the body than by it, we are sure
they can form thoughts, purposes, desires, hopes : for it is
matter of fact, they do it ; and coherent thoughts, and thoughts
arising from thoughts, one from another : yea, and thoughts
abstracted from any thing corporeal, the notions of right
and wrong, of virtue and vice, of moral good and evil, with
some agreeable resolves ; thoughts,quite above the sphere of
matter, so as to form a notion of the mind itself of a spiritual
Being, as unexceptionable a one as we can form of a body :
yen, of an original self-subsistent Mind and Spirit, the Former
and Maker of all other. It is much more apprehensible, since
we certainly know that all this is done, that it is done without
any help of tlje body, than how flesh, or blood, or bones, or
nerves, or brains, or any corporeal thing, should contribute to
such methods of thinking, or to any thought at all. And if
it can be conceived that a spirit can act without dependence on
a body, what should hinder but we may as well conceive it
to subsist and live without such dependence ? And when we
find this power of thought belongs to somewhat in us that lives,
since the deserted carcass thinks not ; that the body lives not
of itself, or life is not essential to it, for lite may be retired
and gone, and it remain, as we see it does, the same body still ;
how reasonable is it to suppose, that the soul to which the
power of thought belongs, lives of itself, not independently
On the first cause, but essentially, so as to receive life and es-
sence together from that cause, or life included in its essence,
so as that it shall be the same tiling to it, to be, and to live.
And hereupon how obvious is it to apprehend that the soul is
such a thing as can live in the body, which when it docs, the
body lives by it a precarious, borrowed life ; and that can live
out of the body, leaving it, when it does so, to drop and
die.
These sentiments were so reasonable, as generally to prevail
with the more deeply-thinking part of mankind, philosophers
of all sorts, (a few excepted, whose notions were manifestly
formed by vicious inclination,) in the Pagan world, where
was nothing higher than reason to govern. But we have
life and immortality brought to light in the gospel, (2 Tim. 1.
10.) and are forewarned by it that these will be the measures
oVeh the invisible world. Sj
of the final judgment, to give eternal life at last to them Mho,
by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for glory, and ho-
nour, and immortality, Rom. 2. 7. To the rest, indignation,
and wrath, &c. (v. 8.) because there is no respect of persons
wilh God, v. 11. As supposing the discovery of another world,
even by natural light, much more by the addition of superna-
tural, to be so clear, as that the rule of the universal judgment,
even for all, is most righteously to be taken from hence, and
that there is nothing but a resolution of living wickedly, to be
opposed to it.
Jt is also no slight consideration, that a susceptibleness of
religion should, among the creatures that dwell on earth, be
so appropriate and peculiar to man, and (some rare instances
excepted) as far diffused as human nature ; so as to induce
some very considering men, of the ancients as well as mo-
derns, both Pagans and Christians, to think religion the more
probable specifying difference of man than reason. And
whence should so common an impression be, but from a cause
as common ? Or how can we avoid to think that this signature
upon the soul of man, a capacity of religion, should be from
the same hand that formed the spirit of man within him,
and that a natural religiousness, and human nature itself,
had the same Author ? But who" sees not that religion, as
siK '];. hath a final reference to a future state ? He was no des-
picable writer, though not a Christian, that positively ailirmed
liope towards God to be essential to man ; and that they that had
it not, were not partakers of the rational nature. *
It is so much the more a deplorable and monstrous thing,
that so many, not only against the light of their own reason,
bat of divine revelation, are so industrious to unman them-
selves : and having so effectually in a great degree done it really
and in practice, aim to do it in a more compendious Avay no-
tionally and in principle too ; and make use or shew of reason
to prove themselves not to be reasonable creatures ; or to di-
vest themselves of the principal dignity and distinction of the
rational nature : and are incomparably herein more unnatural
than such as Ave commonly count felons upon themselves, who
only act against their own bodily life, but these against the
much nobler life of their soul ; they against the life of an in-
dividual, these against their own whole species at once. And
Philo Judasus, Quod deter, potiori insid. soleat, us -rut pr, font form
tvi Qtov, \oytx. r ns tp'jirtws « //,e//,o/£a//.fvwv.
VOL. I, IS
26 the redeemer's dominion
how deplorable is their ease, that count it their interest to be
in no possibility of being happy ! when yet their so great
dread of a future state, as to urge them upon doing the most
notorious violence to their own faculties to rid themselves of it,
is a very convictive argument of its reality : for their dread
still pursues and sticks close to them. This shews it lies deep
in the nature of things which they cannot alter. The terrible
image is still before their eyes ; and their principal refuge lies
only in diverting, in not attending to it. And they can so
little trust to their own sophistical reasonings against it, that
when they have clone all they can, they must owe what they
have of ease and quiet in their own minds, not so much to any
strength of reason they apprehend in their own thoughts, as in
not thinking. A bold jest may sometimes provoke others'
laughter j when it does not extinguish their own fear. A sus-
picion a formido appositi—fearof what is before ///ew,will still
remain: a misgiving that they cannot nullify the great hades,
pull down the spacious fabric of heaven, or undermine the
profound abyss of hell, by a profane scoff. They will in time
discern the difference between the evanid passion of a sudden
fright, that takes its rise from imagination, and the fixed dread
which is founded in the reason of things ; as one may between
a fright in a dream, and the dread of a condemned criminal,
with whom, sleeping and waking, the real state of his case is still
the same.
Nor are the things themselves remote or unconnected ;
God's right to punish a reasonable creature that has lived in con-
tempt of him, and his own reasonable apprehension hereof, or his
conscience both of the fact and desert. They answer as face to
face, as the stamp on the seal, and the impression on the wax.
They would fain make their reasonaprotectionagaiust their fear,
but that cannot serve both ways : the reason of the thing lies
against them already, and there cannot be an eternal war be-
tween the faculty and the object. One way or other the latter
will overpower the former, and draw it into consent with itself;
either by letting it see there is a just, true cause of fear, or,
assisted by divine grace, by prevailing for the change of the
sinner's course. Whereupon that troublesome fear, and its
cause, will both upon the best terms cease together. And that
what has been proposed to consideration under this head, may
be the more effectually considered, to this blessed purpose, I
add that,
7. The discovery of the invisible world, and the disposal of
affairs there, have a most encouraging aspect upon this world :
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 27
for both the discovery and the disposal are by our blessed Re-
deemer, in whom mercy and might are met in highest perfec-
tion. How fragrant breathings of grace, how glorious a dis-
play of power, are there in what he here says : W Fear not !
I am the first and the last ; I am he that liveth and was dead,
and I am alive for evermore, Amen. And I have the keys of
hades and of death." He hath opened the celestial hades to
our view, that it might be also open to our safe entrance and
blissful inhabitation. He who was dead, but liveth, and had
made his victorious triumphant entrance before us, and for us ;
he who had overcome him that had the power of death, con-
quered the gigantic monster at the gate, gained the keys, and
designed herein their deliverance from the fear of death, who
were thereby subject to bondage ; (Heb. 2. 11, 15.) he who
hath abolished drath, and brought life and immortality to lio-ht
in the gospel ; (2 Tim. 1. 10.) it is he who bids us lift up our
oyes, and behold the heavens opened, and himself standing at
the right hand of God. The horrid, internal hades, he hath
discovered too, only that we might fear and shun it. But yet
more distinctly consider, why doth he here represent himself
under this character, " He that liveth and was dead," but that
he might put us in mind of that, most convictive argument of
his love, his submitting to die tor us ; " Greater love hath no
man :" and that he might at once put us out of doubt concern-
ing his power, that he yet survives, and is sprung up alive out.
of that death, victorious over it. How amiable is the repre-
sentation of such power in conjunction with such love ! The
same person having a heart so replenished with love, a hand
so armed with power, neither capable of unkind design, nor
unable to effect the most kind. Behold him in this representation !
Who would not now fall at his foot and adore ? Who would
hesitate at resigning to him, or be appalled at his disclosure of
this unknown world ?
Do but consider him who makes the discovery, and who
would not expect from him the utmost efforts of love and good-
ness ? From him who is the Brightness of his Father's glory,
and the express Image of his person ! His essential Image,
who is Love ! From him who came into this wretchr \ world of
ours, full of grace and truth ! And who could not have come
but by the inducement of compassion to our miseries. From
him who knows all things, and whose eye penetrates into every
recess of the vast hades : all his own empire, in whom are hid
all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge; but who only
knows not to deceive : who hath told us, in his Father's house
28 the redeemer's dominion
are many mansions, and if it were not so, would have told us
that, John 14. 2* From him into whose mouth guile never
entered, but into whose lips grace was poured, and is poured
out by them ; so that the ear that hath heard him hath home
him witness, and filled with wonder those that heard the gra-
cious words which came out of his mouth. Who hath told us
all concerning that unseen world, that in this our present state
it was fit for us to know ; and enough, in telling all Jhat will
be his followers, that where he is, there he will have them be,
John 17. 24.
And consider the manifest tendency of the discovery itself.
What doth it mean or tend to, but to undeceive miserable
mortals, whom he beholds from his high throne mocked wiih
shadows, beguiled with most delusive impostures, and easily
apt to be imposed upon ? P'oolish, deceived, serving divers
lusts and pleasures ; feeding upon ashes, and wearying them-
selves for very vanity ; sporting themselves in the dnst of tins
minute spot of earth : wasting their little inch of time, wherein
they should prepare for translation into the regions of unseen
glory. To these he declares he Rath formed a kingdom for all
that covet to mend their states, and that his kingdom is not of
this world ; that for such as will be of this kingdom, he will
provide better, having other worlds, the many heavens, above
all which he is ascended, at his disposal, Eph. 4. 10. But
they must seek this kingdom and the righteousness of it in the
first place, and desist from their care about other things, lie
counsels and warns them not to lay up their treasure on earth,
but in heaven ; and to let their hearts be there with their
treasure. And what can withstand his power, who, having
been dead, liveth victorious over him that had the power of
death, and is alive for evermore, possessed of an eternal state of
life ?
And have we not reason to expect the most equal and most
benign disposal of things in that unseen world, when he also
declares, 1 have the keys, rightful authority, as well as mighty
power, to reward and punish ? None but who have a very ill
mind can fear from him an ill management. He first became
capable of dying, and then yielded himself to die, that he
might obtain these keys for gracious purposes. He had them
before to execute just vengeance, as he was originally in
the form of God, and without robbery equal with God ;
an equal sharer in sustaining the wrong that had been done
by apostate rebels, and an equal sharer in the right of vindi-
cating it.
OVER THE INVISIBLE AVORLD. 29
But that he might have these keys to open the heavenly
hades to reduced apostates, to penitent, believing, self-devot-
ing sinners, for this, it was necessary that he should put on
man, be found here in fashion as a man, take on him the ibnn
of a servant, become obedient to deaih, even that servile pu-
nishment, the death of the cross, Phil. & 7, 8. For this he
is highly exalted into this power, that every knee might bow
to him, in hope of saving mercy, v. 9, 10, compared with
Isa. 45. 22, 23. lie had the "keys without this, of the
supernal hades, to shut out all offenders, and of the infernal,
to shut them up for ewe*. But that he might have them to ab-
solve repenting believers, and admit them into heaven, and
only to shut up in hell implacable enemies — for this he must
die, and live again. He was to be slain and hanged on a tree,
that he might be a Prince and a Saviour to give repentance ami
remission of sin, .Acts 5. 30, 31. That to this intent he might
be Lord of the dead and the living, he must both die and
rise, and live so as to die no more, Rom. 14. 9. These keys
for this purpose, he was only to have upon these terms. He
had a right to punish as an offended God, but to pardon and
save as a mediating-, sin-expiating God-man.
But as he was to do the part of a Mediator, he must act
equally between the disagreeing parties : he was to deal im-
partially on both sides. To render back entire to the injured
Ruler of the world his violated rights, and to obtain for us his
forfeited favour, as entire. And he undertook therefore, when
as a sacrifice he was to be slain, to redeem us to God by his
blood, Rev. 5. 9. To give him back his revolted creature,
holy, pure, subject, and serviceable, as by his method* he
shall be at last ; and procure for him pardon, acceptance, and
eternal blessedness.
When therefore he was to do for us the part of a Redeemer,
he was to redeem us from the curse of the law, not from the
command of it ; to save us from the zerath of God, not from
his government, Gal. 3. 13, 14. Rom. 8. 3, 4. Had it been
otherwise, so firm and indissoluble is the connexion between our
duty and our felicity, that the sovereign Ruler had been eter-
nally injured, and we not advantaged. Yv ere we to have been
set free from the preceptive obligation of God's holy law T , then
most of all from that most fundamental precept, " Thou shali
love the Lord thy God, with all thine lieart, soul, might, and
mind ;" had this been redemption, which supposes only what
is evil and hurtful, as that we are to be redeemed from ? This
w«rea strange sort of self-repugnant redemption, not from sin
SO the redeemer's nOVTXIO.V
and misery, but from our duly and felicity. This wferfe so to
be redeemed as to be still lost, and every way lost, both to
God and to ourselves for ever. Redeemed from loving God I
W hat a monstrous thought ! Redeemed from what is the great
active and fruitive principle ; the source of obedience and
blessedness ; the eternal spring, even in the heavenly state, of
adoration and fruition ! This had been to legitimate everlast-
ing enmity and rebellion against the blessed God, and to redeem
us into an eternal hell of horror and misery to ourselves ! This
had been to cut off from the supreme Kuler of the world for
ever, so considerable a limb of his most rightful dominion, and
to leave us asmiserable as everlasting separation from the Foun-
tain of life and blessedness could make us.
When therefore our Lord Jesus Christ was to redeem us
from the curse of the law, it was that the promised Spirit might
be given to us, (Gal. 3. 13, 14.) who should write the law
in our hearts : (.Jer. 31: 33. Ezek. 36. '27.) fulfil the righteous-
ness of it in us, by causing us to walk after bis dictates, ac-
cording to that law ; regenerating us, begetting us after God's
image, and making us partakers of a Godlike nature. So we
through the law become dead to (lie malediction and curse of it,
that we may live to God more devoted lives than ever, GaJ. c 2.
19. Thus is God's lost creature given back to him with the
greatest advantage also to itself.
With this design it is apparent our Lord redeemed us, and by
his redemption acquired these keys. Nor are we to doubt, but
in the use of them, he will dispense exactly according to this
just and merciful design. And what a perverse distorted mind
is that, which can so much as wish it should be otherwise !
namely, That he should save us to the eternal wrong of him
that made us, and so as that Ave should be nothing the better ;
that is, that he should save us without saving us !
.And hath this no pleasant comfortable aspect upon a lost
world, that he who hath these keys will use them for snch
purposes ? that is, to admit to eternal bliss, and save to the
uttermost, all that will come to God by him : (not willing to be
everlastingly alienated from the life of God ;.) because he ever
lives to make intercession, or to transact and negotiate for
them, (as that Avord signifies,) and that in a rightful Avay, and
even by the poAver of these keys !
8. That there must be some important reason why the other
world is to us unseen, and so truly bears the name of Hades.
This expresses the state of the case as in fact it is, that it is
a world lying out of our sight, and into Avhich our dim and
OVER THE INVISIBLE WOULD. 31
weak rye cannot penetrate. That .other state of things is
spoken of therefore as hidden from us by a vail. When our
I, oid Jesus is said to have passed into tlie heavens, (If eb. 4.
14.) lie is also said to have entered into that within the vail ;
(lieb. G. 19, 20.) alluding to that in the temple of 'Solomon,
and before that, in Moses's tabernacle ; but expressly signi-
fying-, that the holy places into which Christ entered, not those
made with hands, which were the figure of the true, but hea-
ven itself, filled with the glorious presence of God, where lie
appear}; for us, (Heb. 9. 24.) is also vailed from us. As also
the glovy of the of her state is said to be a glory as yet to be re-
vealed, Horn. 8. IS. And we are told, (Job 26'. 9.) the great
God holdeth back the face of his throne; and above, v. 6, it
is represented as a divine prerogative, that sheol, which is
there groundkssly rendered hell, the vast hades, is only naked
before him, lies entirely open to his view, and therein the dark
and horrid part of it, destruction, by which peculiarly must
be meant hell, is to him without a covering, not more hidden
from his eye.
Which shews this to be the divine pleasure; so Cod will
have it be, who could have exposed all to common view, if he
had pleased.
But because he orders all things according to the counsel
of his will, (Eph. 1. U.) Ave must conceive some weighty
reason did induce hereto, that whatsoever lies beyond this
present state of things should be concealed from our immediate
view, and so come uno nomine — under one name, to be all called
Hades. And if the reason of God's conduct, and the course of
his dispensation herein, had been equally hidden, as (hat state
itself is, it had been a bold presumption to inquire and pry into
it ; modesty and reverence should have restrained us. But
when we find it holds a manifest agreement with other parts of
his counsel, that are sufficiently revealed ; and that the ex-
cellency of the Divine Wisdom is most conspicuous, and
principally to be beheld and admired, in ordering the apt
eongriiifies and correspondencies of tilings with each other,
and especially of* the ends he proposes to himself, with the
methods and ways he takes to effect them ; it were very great
oscitaucy, and an undutiful negligence, not to observe them,
when they stand in view, that we may render him his due
acknowledgments and honour thereupon.
It is manifest that as God did not create man, at first, in
that which he designed to be his final state, but as a probation-
er, in a state of trial, in order to a further state ; so when he
32 the redeemer's dominion
apostatized and fell from Cod, lie Mas graciously pleased to
order for him a new trial, and put him into the hands of his
merciful Redeemer, who is intrusted with these keys, and -with
the power of life and death over him, to be managed and ex-
ercised according to the terms plainly set down and declared
in his gospel. Wheresoever he is with sufficient evidence re-
vealed and made known, men immediately come under obliga-
tion to believe in him ; to intrust and commit themselves into
the same hands; to rely upon the truth of his word in every
thing he reveals, as the ground of their sub-milting- to his au-
thority in every thing he requires. What concerns their pre-
sent practice, he hath plainly shewn them ; so much as it was
requisite they should pre-apprehend of future retributions,
rewards and punishments, he hath revealed also; not. that
they should have the knowledge hereof by immediate inspec-.
iion, but by taking his word. That as their first transgression
was founded in infidelity, that they did not believe God, but
a lying spirit against him ; their first step in their recovery and
return to God should be to believe him, and take his word
about things they have themselves no immediate sight or know-
of This point was by no means to be quitted to the first
apostates. As it' God's saying to them, " If you transgress,
\nu shall die, or go into hades" was no sufficient enforcement
of the precept, unless he had given them a distinct view of the
sfafes of felicity or misery, which their obedience or disobedi-
ence would had them into. This had been to give away the
whole cause to the revolted rebels, and rather to confess error
and oversight in the divine government, than impute fault to
the impugners of it!
This being the state of the ease, how unsuitable had it been to
(he design of this second trial to be made with men, to with*
draw the vail, and let 'very one's own eyes be their informers
of all the glories of the heavenly state ! and hereupon proclaim
and preach the gospel to them, that they should all partake
herein, that would entirely deny themselves, come off from
(heir own bottom, give themselves up absolutely to the interest,
love, service, and communion, of their Redeemer, and of
God in him ! To fortify them against the a.ssaults and dangers
of their earthly pilgrimage by reversing that rule, The just
-hall live by faith ; even that faith which is the substance of
things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen ; (Ileb.
1(). 38. — ch. If. 1.) or by inverting the method, that in re*
f rence to such things we are to walk by faith, not by sight,
(2 Cor. 5. 7.) and letting it be, We are to walk by sight, not.
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. S3
by faith! And that lest any should refuse such compliance
with their great Lord, whole hades should be no longer so,
but made naked before them, and the covering of hell and
destruction be taken off, and their own eyes behold tlie infernal
horrors, and their own ears hear the shrieks and bowlings, of
accursed creatures, that having rejected their Redeemer, are
rejected by him. We are not here to consider, what course
would most certainly effect their salvation, but what most be-
came the wise holy God, to preserve the dignity of his own
government, and save them too ; otherwise almighty pov, er
could save all at once. As therefore we have cause to acknow-
ledge the kindness and compassion of our blessed Lord, who
hath these keys, in giving us for the kind, such notices as lie
hath, of the state of the things in hades ; so we have equal
cause to admire his wisdom, that he gives us not those of an-
other kind, that should more powerfully strike the sense and
amaze us more, but instruct us less ; that continues it to be
hades still, a state of things to us unseen as yet. As the case
would have been on the other supposition, the most generous,
noble part of our religion had been sullied or lost ; and the
trial of our faith, which is to be found unto praise, honour,
and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ, even upon this
account ; that they who had not seen him in his mean circum-
stances on earth, nor did now see him, amidst all the glories of
his exalted state, yet believing, loved him, and rejoiced in
him with joy unspeakable, and full of glory, 1 Pet. 1. 7, 8.
This faith, and all the glorious trials of it, with its admirable
achievements and performances, whereby the elders heretofore
obtained so good a report, (Heb. 11. 2.) and high renown on
earth, and which filled the world with wonder, had all va-
nished into obscurity and darkness ; that is, if they had be-
lieved no more, or no greater things, than every man besides
had the immediate view of by his own eye-sight.
And yet the tri;* 1 had been greater, on another account, than,
the divine wisdom, in conjunction with goodness and com-
passion, thought lit ordinarily to put sincere Christians upon.
For who could with any tolerable patience have endured longer
abode on earth, after they should once have had the glory of
the heavenly state immediately set in view before their eyes I
especially considering, not so much the sufferings, as the im-
purities of their present state ? What, for great reason, was a
special vouchsafement to one apostle, was, for as great, to be
common to all Christians. How great is the wisdom and mercy
VOL. I. F
34 THE redeemer's dominion
of our blessed Lord in this partial concealment of our future
state, and that while so much as is sufficient is revealed, there
is yet an hades upon it, and it may still be said, It doth not
yet appear what we shall be, 1 John 3. 2.
Hut as these majestic life-breathing words of our great Lord
do plainly offer the things that have been mentioned, and many
more such that might occur to our thoughts and meditation ;
so will they be thought on in vain, if they be not followed and
answered by suitable dispositions and actions of heart and life.
Therefore the further use we are to make of this great subject
will be to lay down,
II. Divers correspondent things to be practised and done,
which must also suppose dispositions and frames of heart and
spirit agreeable thereto.
I. Let us live expecting a period to be ere long put to our
life on earth. For remember, there are keys put into a great
hand for this very purpose, that holds them not in vain. His
power is of equal extent with the law he is to proceed by. And
by that it is appointed for all once to die, Ileb. 9. 27. There-
fore as in the execution he cannot exceed, so he will not come
short of this appointment : when that once shall be, it belongs
to him to determine. And from the course we may observe
him to hold, as it is uncertain to all, it can be very remote to
none. How short is the measure of a span! It is an absurd
vanity to promise ourselves that which is in the power of an-
other. How wise and prudent a thing to accommodate ourselves
composedly to his pleasure, in whose power we are ; and to
live as men continually expecting to die ! There are bands of
death out of which, when they once take hold, we cannot free
ourselves. But there arc also bands of life, not less troublesome
or dangerous. It is our great concern to be daily, by degrees,
loosening and disentangling ourselves from these bands; and
for preventing the necessity of a violent rupture, to be daily
disengaging our hearts from an insnaring *orld, and the too
close embraces of an over-indulged body. Tell them resolutely,
" I must leave you whensoever my great Lord turns the key
for me ; and I know not how soon that may be." It is equally
unhappy and foolish to be engaged in the pursuit of an impos-
sibility, or in a war with necessity ; the former whereof cannot
be obtained, the latter cannot but overcome. We owe thus
much to ourselves, and to the ease and quiet of our own minds,
to be reconciled, at all times, to that which may befal us at
any time. How confounding a thing is snrprisal by that which
we regret and dread ! How unaccountable and ignominious
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 35
must it be to pretend to be surprised Avith what we Lave so
great reason always to expect, and whereof Ave are so oft fore-
warned ! Is it no part of Christian watchfulness to wait for
such an hour ? Though that waiting all the days of our ap-
pointed time, mentioned Job 14. 14, refers to another change
than that of death, namely, (as the foregoing; and following
verses shew,) that of the resurrection, yet it cannot but be
equally requisite, upon a no less important reason. And the
requests that the Lord would make us to know our end, and the
measure of our days that we may know how frail we are, (Ps.
39. 4.) and that he would teach us so to number our days that
we may apply our hearts to wisdom, (Ps. 90. 12.) are equally
monitory to the same purpose, as the most express precepts ;
as also the many directions we have to watch and wait for our
Lord's appearance and coming are as applicable to this pur-
pose. For whensoever his key opens our passage out of this
world, and out of these bodies, hades opens too, and he par-
ticularly appears to us, in as decisive a judgment of our case,
as his universal appearance and judgment will at last give for
all. The placid agreement of our minds and spirits with di-
vine determination, both as to the thing, and time, of our
departure hence, will prevent the trouble and ungratefulness;
of being surprised; and our continual expectation of it, will
prevent any surprisal at all. Let this then be an agreed re-»
solution with us, to endeavour being in such a posture, as
that we may be capable of saying, " Lord, whensoever thou
shalt move thy key, and tell me this night, or this hour, I will
require thy soul, thou shalt not, O Lord, prevent mine expec-
tation, or ever find me counting upon many years' enjoyment
of any thing this world can entertain me with."
In further pursuance hereof,
2. Be not. over-intent on designs for this present world ;
which would suppose you to count upon long abode in it. Let
them be always laid with a supposition, you may this way,
even by one turn of tliis key, be prevented from bringing them
about ; and let them be pursued with indifferency, so as that
disappointment even this way may not be a grievance. A
thing made up of thought and design, as our mind and spirit
naturally is, will be designing one way or other ; nor ought
we to attempt that violence upon our own natures, as to en-
deavour the stupifying of the intelligent, designing mind,
which the Author of nature hath put into us. Only let us so
lay our designs, as that how many soever we form that may
be liable to this sort of disappointment, we may still have one
36 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
greater and more important, so regularly and surely laid, that
no turn of this key shall be in any possibility (o frustrate, but,
promote it rather. The design for the kingdom of God to be
first sought, with his righteousness, (Matth. G. 33.) or which
is pursued by seeking glory, honour, and immortality, to the
actual attainment of eternal life, (Rom. 2. 7.) may, if pre-
scribed methods be duly observed, have this felicity always
attending it, to be successfully pursued while we live, and
effected when we die.
But this is an unaccountable vanity under the sun, that men
too generally form such projects, that they are disappointed
both when they do not compass them, and when they do. If
they do not, they have lost their labour ; if they do, they arc
not, worth it. They dream they are eating, and enjoying the
fruit of their labour ; but they awake, and their soul is empty.
And if at length they think of laying wiser and more valuable
designs, the key turns, and not having fixed their resolution,
and begun aright, they and all their thoughts, foolish, or more
wise, perish together. Because there is a fit season for every
ft undertaking, a time and judgment for every purpose, or a
critical time, such as is by judgment affixed to every such
purpose, (Eccl. 8. 6.) and because also men know not their
time, (ch. 9. 12.) "therefore their misery is great upon the earth,
and as birds caught in a snare, they are snared in an evil time
that falleth suddenly upon them. O miserable, miserable mor-
tals ! So are your immortal spirits misemployed and lost !
Their most valuable design for another world is seldom
thought on in season; their little designs for this world they
contrive and prosecute with that confidence, as if they thought
the world to be theirs, and themselves their own, and they had
no Lord over them. This rude insolence that holy apostle
animadverts upon, of such as say, " To-day or to-morrow we
will go to such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and
sell, and get gain ; whereas they know not what shall be on
the morrow: for what is their life? A vapour that appearcth
for a little time, and then vanisheth away," Jam. 4. 13 — 15.
So much of duty and becoming behaviour is in the mean
time forgotten, as to say, " If the Lord will, we shall live,
and do this or that." This is to bear themselves as abso-
lute masters of their own lives. How bold an affront to their
sovereign Lord ! They feel themselves well in health, strength,
and vigour, and seem resolved it shall be a trial of skill who
hath the power, or to whom the keys belong, till it come to
the last irrefragable demonstration, that he changes their conn-
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 37
tenance, and sends them away; (Job 14. 20.) and then they
go driven, plueked and torn away from their dwelling-place,
roofed ont of the land of the living, Ps. 52. 5.
But if any premonitory decays make them doubt the perpe-
tuity of their own abode here, they somewhat, ease their minds
by the pleasure they take in thinking, when they have fUled
their own bellies, (Ps. 17. 14.) what they shall leave of their
substance to their babes, and to them that shall come niter.
And " their inward thought is, that their houses shall continue
for ever, and their dwelling-places to all generations ; and they
call their lands after their own names, and their posterity ap-
prove their sayings," (Ps. 49. 11.) think and act as wisely as
they. Thus they take upon them, and reckon that they for
their time, and theirs after them, shall still dwell in their own.
A wise thought ! They are the owners, when another keeps
the keys.
Several other things of like import I shall more lightly touch,
that may be collected from what hath been already more large-
ly said, and leave to be further enlarged upon in your own
thoughts ; and shall dilate more upon some other, as they are
either more material, or less thought on by the most.
3. Be not prodigal of your time on earth, which is so little
in your power. Because you are not to expect much, make
the best use you can of your little. It is so precious a thing
that it is to be redeemed : it is therefore too precious to be em-
bezzled and trifled away. The connexion of those two pre-
cepts, (Eph. 5. 15, 16.) of walking circumspectly, not as fools,
but as wise, and that of redeeming the time, more than inti-
mates, that to squander time is a foolish thing. Of the several
sorts of things that we make ourselves, their shape and frame
shew their use and end. Are we to make a less judicious esti-
mate of the works of God? If we therefore contemplate our-
selves, and consider what a sort of production man is, can we
allow ourselves to think God made him a reasonable creature
on purpose to play the fool? Or can we live as if we thought
so, without reproaching our Maker ? But whereas he who hath
been the Author to us of such a nature, capable of improving
a life's time in this world unto most valuable purposes, hath
also been the Author of such a law, requiring us to redeem
time ; the reproach will be wholly turned off from him upon
ourselves, and our consequent ruin be upon our own guilty-
heads. And he will find some among ourselves, who by the
advantage only of the reasonable nature, common to us and
them, that are instructors to us not to waste our days in vanity,
SS THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
and will be witnesses against us if we so foolishly consume what
we cannot command.
Some such have unanswerably reprehended the common
folly of those that dread the thought of throwing away their
whole life at once, that yet have no regret at throwing it all
away by parcels and piece-meal. And have told us, Neque
quicquam reperif. dignum, quod cum tempore suo permntaret —
A wise man can find nothing of thai value, for which to barter
axcay his time. Sen.
And we are to consider, that as we are reasonable creatures,
we are accountable. That Ave are shut up in these bodies, as
in work-houses. That when he that keeps the keys lets us out,
we are to " receive the things done in the body, according to
what we have done, whether good or evil," 2 Cor. 5. 10. That
it belongs to him that measures our time to censure it too, and
the use we have made of it.
4. Let him be at once both great and amiable in our eyes,
who hath so absolute power over us, and so gracious propen-
sions towards us ; who hath these keys, and who acquired them
with so merciful intentions, even upon such terms as could not
but signify the greatest compassion and good-will towards such
as we.
Heconsider what hath been offered as matter of Meditation,
to both these purposes. And now, hereupon, let us endeavour
to have a correspondent sense inwrought into our hearts, and to
hear ourselves towards him accordingly. The power and ef-
ficacy of whole Christianity depend upon this, and do very
principally consist in if. What a faint, impotent, languishing
flung is our religion, how r doth if dwindle info spiritless, dead
form, without it ! The form of knowledge is nothing else but
insipid, dead notion, and our forms of worship only fruitless,
unpleasant formality, if we have not a vivid sense in our hearts
both of his glorious greatness, and of his excellent loving-kind-
ness. As much as words can signify towards the impressing
such a sense into our hearts, we have in these words, uttered
from his own mouth ; so that he may say, as that memorable
t\ peof him once did, You may plainly perceive, " It is my mouth
that speaketh to you," Gen, 45. u 1 am (he First and the Last.
1 am he that liveth and was dead, and behold I am alive forever-
more." And hereto he now sets his solemn ratifying seal, Amen.
Wherewith he leaves us to pause, and collect, that thus it was
brought about, that he could add, "And I have the keys of
the vast hades, the whole unseen world, and of death."
And God forbid that, now, these words should be with us
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 39
an empty sound, or a dead letter ! Let us cast in our minds
what manner of salutation this should be ! Doth the Son of Goii
thus vouchsafe to bespeak miserable abjects, perishing', lost
wretches ? How can we hereupon but bow our heads and wor-
ship ? What agitations of affectum should? we feel within! How
should all our internal powers be moved, and our whole souls
made as the chariots of Amminadib ! What can we now be un-
willing of, that he Avould have us be, or do ? And as that, whereof
we maybe assured he is most willing ?
5. Let us entirely receive him, and absolutely resign our-
selves (o him, as our Prince and Saviour. Who would not
covet to be in special relation to so mighty and so kind a Lord ?
And can you think to be related to him upon other terms ? And
do you not know that upon these you may, when in his gospel
he offers himself, and demands you ? What can that mean
but that you are to receive him, and resign yourselves ? The
case is now brought to this state, that you must either comply,
or rebel. And what! rebel against him who hath these keys,
who is in so high authority over the whole unseen world I Who
is the Head of all principality and power, who is gone into
the heavens, the glorious upper hades, and is at the right hand
of God, angels, authorities, and powers, being made subject to
him ! 1 Pet. 3. 22. We little know or can conceive, as yet,
the several orders and distinctions of the celestial inhabitants,
and their great and illustrious princes and potentates, thrones,
dominions, and principalities and powers, that all pay him a
dutiful and a joyful subjection and obedience. But do we not
know God hath given him a name above every name ? and
that in his name, or at it, as it may be read, that is, in ac-
knowledgment of his sovereign power, every knee must bow,
of things in heaven, on earth, and under earth, and all con-
fess that he is Lord, to the praise and glory of God the Father ?
And who art thou, perishing wretch ! that darest dispute his
title ? Or that, when all the creation must be subject to him,
wilt except thyself?
And when it cost him so dear, that his vast power might be
subservient to a design of grace, and thou must at last be saved
by him, or lost for ever, what can tempt thee to stand out against
such power, and such grace ?
If thou wert to gratify thy ambition, how glorious a thing is
it to be a Christian ! a subject, a devoted homager, to so mighty
a Prince ! If to provide against thy necessity and distress, what
course can be so sure and successful, as to fly for refuge to so
compassionate a Saviour ? And dost thou not know there must
40 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION"
be, (o this purpose, an express transaction between him and
thee? Wonder he will condescend td it ! To capitulate with
dust and ashes! To Article with his own creature, with whom
he may do what he will ! But his merciful condescension herein
is declared and known. If there shall be a special relation
settled betAveen him and tiiee, he bath told thee in what way
it must be, namely, byway of covenant-transaction and agree-
ment, as he puts his people of old in mind his way was with
them : " I entered into covenant with thee, and thou becamest
mine," Ezek. 16. 8. This I insist upon and press, as a thing
of the greatest importance imaginable, and the least thought
of; nor the strange incongruity animadverted on, that we
have the seals of such a covenant among us; but the covenant
itself slips through our hands. Our baptism soon after we
were born, with some federal words then, is thought enough, as
if we were a nation always minors. W hoe ver therefore thou
art, that hearest these words, or readest these lines, know that
the great Lord is express towards ih.ee in his gospel proposal —
" Wilt thou accept me for thine, and resign thyself as mine ?."
He now expects and requires thy express answer. Take his
gospel as from the cross, or take it as from the throne, or as from
both, it is the same gospel, interwoven of grace and authority ;
the richest grace, and the highest authority, at once inviting and
requiring thee to commit and submit thyself unto him. Take heed
lest his key turn before thou hast given thy complying answer,
importing at once both thy trust and ihy subjection.
Give not over pleading with thyself, ■■ ith thy wayward stu-
pid heart, till it can say to him, " Lord, I yield ; thou hast
overcome." Till with tender relettings lliou hast thrown thy-
self at his feet, and told him, "Lord, I am ashamed, I am
confounded within myself, that thou shouldest die upon across
to obtain thy high power, and that thou art, now ready to use
it for the saving of so vile a miscreant as 1 : that when thou hast
so tfast an unknown world, so numberless myriads of excellent
creatures in thy obedience, thou shouldest yet think k worth
thy while to look after me ; and that I should so long have with-
stood thy kind and gracious overtures and intendments ! O
forgive my wicked aversion ! I now accept and resign."
And now this being sincerely Sone, with fulness of con-
sent, with deep humility, with yearning bowels, with unfeign-
ed thankfulness, and an inward complacency and gladness of
heart ;
6. Let your following course in this world be ordered
agreeably hereto, in continued dependence and subjection. As
OVER THE INVIflTBLE "WOULD. 41
we liny? received Christ Jesus the Lord, so we are to walk in
him, Col. 2. 6. Take him according to the titles here given
him, as Christ, a Pe son ar.oimed, authorized, qualified to be
both Jesus, a Saviour, and so we are to walk, according to
our first reception of him, in continual dependence on his
saving* mercy, and to be a Lord, or, as it is here exprest, with
emineney, the Lord, so Ave are to walk in continual subjec-
tion to Ms governing power. Otherwise our receiving him, at
first, under these notions, hath nothing in it but mockery and
collusion.
But if his obtaining these keys, upon the terms here exprest,
as having been dead, and now living, and having overcome
death, as it is also Rom. 14. 9, did signify his having them
for saving purposes, as it must, since for other purposes he
had them sufficiently before ; and if -we reckon this a reason-
able inducement to receive him, and commit and intrust our-
selves to him as a Saviour, that he died, and overcame death ;
(for his grace in yielding to die, had not rendered him a com-
petent object of trust, otherwise than in conjunction with his
power in overcoming death, and so gaining into his hands these
keys :) then, the same reason still remaining, how constant an
encouragement have we to continue accordingly walking in
him all our days ! How potent an argument should it be to
us, to live that life which we live in the flesh, by faith in the
Son of God, who loved us, and gave himself for us ? (Gal. 2.
20.) that is, inasmuch as having been crucified with him,
(which is also there exprest,) we feel ourselves to live never-
theless ; yet so as that it is not so much we that live, as Christ
that liveth in us ; who could not live in us, or be to us a
spring of life, if he were not a perpetual spring of life iii
himself.
And consider, how darest thou live otherwise in this flesh,
in this earthly house, whereof he keeps the keys, and can
fetch thee out at his pleasure ? When he hath warned thee to
abide in him, that when he ( ,shall appear, thou mayest have
confidence, and not be ashamed at his coming, 1 John 2. 28.
lie will certainly then appear, when he comes to open the door,
and dislodge thee from this flesh ; (though there be here a
further and final reference to another appearance and coming of
his;) and if lie then find thee severed and disjoined from him,
(thy first closure with him not having been sincere, truly unitive
and. vital,) how terribly will he look ! how confoundedly wilt
thou look in that hour !
Neither hast thou less reason to live in continual subjection
"VOL. I. G
42 the redeemer's dominion
to him, considering that as he died, and overcame death, that
lie might have these keys, so he now hath them, and thou art
under his governing power. The more thou considerest his
right to govern, the less thou wilt dispute it. When he was
spoken of as a Child to us born, that he might become a Man of
sorrows, and be sorrowful unto the death, and have all the sor-
rows of death come upon him, he is at the same time said to be
the mighty Cod, and it was declared the government should
foe upon his shoulders, Isa. 9. 6. As he was the first begotten
from the dead, both submitting to death, and conquering it,
so he was the Prince of the kings of the earth, (a small part of
his kingdom too,) his throne being founded on his cross, his
governing power in his sacrifice ; that is, the power whereby
he so governs, as that he may also save ; making these two
things, the salving the rights of the Godhead, injured by sin,
and delivering of the sinner from an eternal ruin, to agree and
consist with one another.
What an endearing obligation is this to obey ! That he will
be the Author of eternal salvation to them that obey him ! Inns-
much as, while our obedience cannot merit the least thing from
him, yet his vouchsafing to govern us doth most highly merit
from us. For he governs by writing his law in the heart, which
makes our heart agree with the law ; and by implanting divine
love in us, which vanquishes enmity and disaffection, and vir-
tually contains in itself our obedience, or keeping his com-
mandments, John 14. 15, 23, and 1 John 5. 3. Therefore this
government of his, over us, is naturally necessary to our sal-
vation and blessedness, and is the inchoation and beginning of
it; as our perfected love to God, and conformity to his nature
and will, do involve and contain in themselves our complete
and perfect blessedness, with which a continued enmity, or a
rebellious mutinous disposition against God, is naturally in-
consistent, and would be to us, and in us, a perpetual, ever-
lasting hell.
There can therefore be no enthralling servitude in such obedi-
ence, but the truest liberty, that by which the Son makes us free
indeed, John 8. 36. Yea a true sort of royalty : for hereby we
come, in the most allowable sense, to live as we will, our will
being conformed to the will of God. W hereupon that was no
high extravagant rant, but a sober expression, " We are born
in a kingdom : to serve God is to reign." Seneca.
And we know this to be the will of God, that all should ho-
nour the Son, as they honour the Father, John 5. 23. Here-
with will the evangelically obedient comport with high com-
4
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 43
placency ; accounting him most highly worthy that it should
be so. Wherein therefore the Christian law seems strictest
and most rigorous in the enjoined observance of our Lord
Christ, herein we shall discern an unexceptionable reasonable-
ness, and comply with a complacential approbation. And let
us put our own hearts to it, and see that without regret or ob-
murmuration they can readily consent to the equity of the pre-
cept.
It is enjoined us, constructively at least, that because Christ
died for us, when we were dead, quite lost in death, we that
live, hereupon should settle this with ourselves as a fixed
judgment, and upon that intervening judgment yield to the
constraint of his love, so as henceforth no more to live to our-
selves : God forbid we should henceforth be so profane ! We
must now for ever have done with that impious, unlawful way
of living. What ! after this, that we have so fully understood
the stale of our case, that we should be so assuming as ever
ajrain to offer at such a thins? as living to ourselves, to make
ourselves ^deities to ourselves ; or to live otherwise than unto
him who died for us, and rose again! 2 Cor. 5. 14, 15. This
is high and great, and may seem strict and severe. What !
to have the whole stream of all the actions and aims, the
strength and vigour of our lives, to be carried in one entire,
undivided current unto him, and (as it must be understood),
Gal. 2. 19.) to (»od in him, so as never more to live to our-
selves, a divided, separate life apart from him, or wherein we
shall not finally and more principally design for him ! How
high is his claim, but how equal and grateful to a right
mind ! With what a plenitude of consent (taking this into the
account) is every divine command esteemed to be right in all
things! So that w hat soever is opposite, is hated as a false
way, Ps. 119. 128. And as the precept carries its own visible
reason, the keeping of it carries its own reward in itself, Ps.
19. 11. And is it too much for him who bears these keys, and
obtained them on such terms, and for such ends, to be thus af-
fected towards him ?
We are required, without exception, without limitation or
reserve, whatsoever we do, whether in word or work, to do all
in the name of our Lord .Jesus Christ, Col. 5. 17.
Inquire we, Do our hearts repine at this law ? Do not we ?
Does not this world owe so much to him? Why are we al-
lowed a place and a time here? Why is not this world a
flaming theatre ? Is it not fit that all should know under whose
government they live ; by whose beneficence, under whoso
A\ THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
protection, and in whose name (hey may act so or so, and by
whose authority ; either obliging 1 ; or not restraining them, re-
quiring, or licensing them to do this or that ? Does this world
owe less to him, that bears these keys, than Egypt did to
Joseph, when thus the royal word went forth in reference to
him, " I am Pharaoh, and without thee shall no man lift up
his hand or foot in all the land of Egypt ?" How pleasant should
it be to our souls, often to remember and think on that name of
his which we bear, (I'sa. 26. 8. Mai. S. 16.) and draw in as vital
hsreath, the sweet odours of it, Cant. 1. 3. Ps. 45. 6 — 11. John
20. 28. How glorious a thing should we count it, because he
is the Lord our God, to walk in Iris name for ever arid ever, as.
all people will walk every one in the name of their God, Mic.
4. 5. And then we shall account it no hard law, whatever we
do, to do ail in the name of our Lord Jesus, giving thanks to
God the Father by him, and for him ; blessing God every
day, that we are put by him under the mild and merciful go-
vernment of a Redeemer. Then, we shall rejoicingly avow,
as the apostle doth, ( I Cor. 9. 21.) That we are not without
law to God, but under law to Christ.
Whereupon, when you find your special relation is thus set-
tled and fixed unto the great Lord both of this present visible
world, and of hades, or the invisible world, also by your so-
lemn covenant with him, and evidenced by the continued cor-
respondency of your heart and lite, your dispositions and ac-
tions, 1 hereunto :
7. Do not regret or dread to pass out of the one world into
the other at his call, and under his conduct, though through
the dark passage of death; remembering the keys are in so
great and so kind a hand ; and that his good pleasure herein is
no more to be distrusted, than to be disputed or withstood.
Let it be enough to you, that what yon cannot see yourself,
he sees for you. You have oft desired your ways, jour mo-
tions, your removals from place to place, might be directed by
him in the world. 1 lave yon never said, If thou go not with me,
carry me not up hence? How safely and fearlessly may you
follow him blindfold or in the dark any whither ; not only from
place to place in this world, but from world to world ; how
lightsome soever the one, and gloomy and dark the other may
seem to you. Darkness and light are to him alike. To him,
hades is no hades, nor is the dark way that leads into it to hiin
an untrodden path. Shrink not at the thoughts of this transla-
tion, though it be not by escaping death, but even through the
jaws of it.
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 45
We commonly excuse our aversion to die, by alleging that
nature regrets it. But we do not enough consider, that
in such a compounded sort of creature as we are, the word
nature must be ambiguous. There is us a sensitive nature
that regrets it; but taking the case is now stated, can we
think it tolerable, that it should be regretted by the reasonable
nature? Unto which, if Ave appeal, can we suppose it so un-
true to itself, as not to assert itsvown superiority ? Or to jud e
it fit that an intelligent, immortal Spiri ...ole of so great
things in another world, should be content with a long abode
here, only to keep a well-figured piece of flesh from patrefy-
ing, or give it the satisfaction of tasting meats and drinks that
are grateful to it, for a few years ? And if for a few, why not
for many? And when those many were expired, why not for
as many more? And the same reason always remaining, why
not for always? The case is thus put, because the common
meaning of this allegation, that nature regrets or abhors this
dissolution, is not thai they are concerned, for their souls how
it may fare with them in another world, which most men little
mind or trouble themselves about; but that they are to have
what is grateful to them in this world. And was this the end a
reasonable spirit was made for, when, without reason, sense
were alike capable of the same sort of gratifications ? What
law, what equity, what rule of decency, can oblige the soul
of, a man, capable of the society and enjoyments of angels, io
this piece of self-denial, for the sake of his incomparably baser
body ? Or can make it fit that the nobler and more excellent
nature should be eternally subservient to -the meaner and more
ignobte? Especially, considering that if, according to the
case supposed, the two last foregoing directions be complied
with, there is a sort of divine nature superadded to the whole
human nature, that cannot but prompt the soul ennobled by it,
to aspire to suitable, even to the highest, operations and en-
joyments, whereof it is capable, and which are not attainable
hi this present bodily state.
And if there were still a dispute between nature and nature,
it is enough that the great Lord of hades, and of this present
sensible work! too, will determine it. In a far lower instance,
when the general of an army commands it upon an enterprise,
wherein life is to be hazarded, it wo tld be an ill excuse of "a
cowardly declining, to say, their nature regrets and dreads
the ad ve.il are. The thing is necessary. Against what is so
unavoidable as death, that is an abject mind that reluctates.
Miser est qultunque non vult, Munda sccuin .morientc, mori —
46 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
He is a miserable man, who, while he sees the world dying
around him, is himself unwilling to die. Sen. Tr.
Come, Ihen, lotus imbolden ourselves; and, -when he brings
the key, dare to die. It is to obey and enjoy him, who is our
life and our all. Say we cheerfully each of us, Lord Jesus
receive my spirit : into thy hands I commit it, who hast re-
deemed it.
8. Let us quietly submit to divine disposal, when our drar
friends and relatives are by death taken away from us. For
consider into what hands this affair is put, of ordering every
6fie's decease, and removal out of this into the other world, and
who hath these keys. It is such a one, whose right, if we use
our thoughts, we shall not allow ourselves to dispute ; or io
censure his administration. His original right, is that of a
Creator and a God. " For all things were created for him,
and by him,"' Col. I. 16. " And without him was nothing
made that was made," John 1. 3. « The first and the last" to
all things, Rev. 1. 17.
His supervening right was that of a Redeemer, as hath been
already noted from this context, and as such he had it by ac-
quisition, dying to obtain if, and overcoming death ! " I am
he that liveth and was dead." And then, as he elsewhere de-
clares, by constitution, " All power is given me both in heaven
and on earth," Matth. 28. J8. The word («£«»/•) imports
rightful, power. And who are we, or any relatives of ours,
whom all the power of heaven and earth hath no right to touch ?
What exempt jurisdiction can we pretend ourselves to belong
unto ?
Or will we adventure to say, not denying his right, He did
not use it well in this case? Who is more fitly qualified io
judge, than he that hath these keys? And let this matter be
yet more thoroughly discussed. What is it that we find fault
with in the removal of this or that person, that was near, and
delightful to us ? Is it that he was to die at all ? Or that he
died so soon ? If we say the former ; do we blame the consti-
tution appointing all men once to die, by which this world is
made a portal to another, for all men, and whence it was ne-
cessary none should stay long in this, but only pass through,
iitfo that world wherein every one is to have his everlasting
abode ? Or is it that, when we think it not unfit this should be
the general and common course, there should yet have been a
particular dispensation for this friend or relation of mine ?
Let ihe former be supposed the thing we quarrel at, and con-
sider the intolerable consequences of the matters being other-
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 47
wise, as the case is with this apostate sinful world. Such as
upon second, better-weighed thoughts, we would abhor to
admit into our minds, even as the matter of a wish. What!
would we wish to mankind a sinning immortality on this earth,
before which a wise heathen* professed to prefer one day vir-
tuously spent ? Would we wish this world to be the everlast-
ing stage of indignities and affronts to him that made it ? Would
we wish there should never be a judgment-day, and that all
the wise and righteous counsels of heaven should be ranverst
and overturned, only to comport with our terrene and sensual
inclinations ? Is this our dutifulness and loyal affection to our
blessed Lord, the Author of our beings, and the God of our
lives, whose rights and honours should be infinitely dearer to
us than ourselves? Is it our kindness to ourselves, and all
others of our kind and order, that are all naturally capable,
and many, by gracious vouchsafement, fitly qualified, to en-
joy a perfect felicity in another world, that we would have all
together confined for ever to this region of darkness, impurity,
and misery ?
Or if it displease us, that our relatives are not, by some spe-
cial dispensation, excepted from the common law of mortality,
we would surely as much have expected an exemption our-
selves ; otherwise, our dying away from them, would make the
so much regretted separation, as well as theirs from us. And
what then, if we were required to draw up our petition, to put
it into express words, to turn our wish for ourselves, and all
our relatives and peculiar friends, into a formed, solemn prayer,
to tli is effect, that we are content the law stand in force, that all
the world should die, with only the exception of some few
names ; namely, our own, and of our kindred and more inward
friends ? What ashamed confounded creatures should we be
upon the view of our own request! Should we not presently
be for quelling and suppressing it, and easily yield to be non-
suited, without more ado ? What pretence can we have not
to think others as apt to make the same request for them and
theirs ? And if all the rest of the world shall die, would we
and our friends dwell here alone, or would we have this world
be continued habitable only on this private account, to gratify
a family ? And if we and our friends be holy, heavenly-minded
persons, how unkind were it to wish to ourselves and them,
when fit for the society of angels and blessed spirits above, a
perpetual abode in this low earthly state ! Would we not now,
* Cicero.
48 th" redeemer's nosriNiox
upon riper, second thoughts,, rather be content that tilings
should rest as (hey are, and he that hath (lie.se keys, use them
his own way ?
But if by^dtthis we are put quite out of conceit with the
desire of a terrestrial immortality, all that the matter finally re-
sults into is, that we think such a relative of ours died too soon.
We would not have coveted for him an eternity on earth, but
only more time. A nd how much more ? Or for what ? If we were
to set the time, it is likely that when it comes, we should be as
averse to a separation, if coexistent, then, as now ; and so we
revolve into the exploded desire of a terrestrial immortality
back again at last, li' we were to assign the reason of our de-
sire, that would seem, as in the present case, a plausible one to
some, which is mentioned by Plutarch in his consolation to
.Apollonius for the loss of his son, concerning another such
case (as he instances in many) of one Elysius an Italian,
whose loss of his son Euthynous was much aggravated by this,
that he was a great heir. But what was said to that, there, and
what is further to be said to any thing of that kind, I shall re-
serve to a more proper place.
It is a more weighty allegation, and of more common con-
cernment, when a useful person is gone, and one very capable
of becoming very eminently so. And this requires deeper con-
sideration, and sundry things ought to be considered, in order
to the quieting their minds, who are apt to behold such darker
dispensations, in the course of providence, with amusement,
and disturbance of spirit ; that is, when they, see persons of
excellent endowments and external advantages beyond the
most, cut off in their prime, while the world is cumbered with
drones never likely to do good, and pestered with such as arc
like to prove plagues to it, and do great hurl and mischief to
the age wherein they live : an ancient <?nd not uncommon scru-
ple to pious observers heretofore. u Wherefore," says holy
Job, " do the wicked live, become old, yea. are mighty in
power ? Their s<: ed is established in their sight," ch. 21. 7, 8,
when his seed was cut off before his eyes. And here let us
consider,
(1.) That (his world is in apostasy from God: and though
he is pleased to use apt means for its recovery, he doth what he
thinks fit herein of mere grace and favour, and is under no ob-
ligation to do all that he can. His dispensation herein must
correspond to, and bear upon it, the impress of other divine
perfections, his wisdom, holiness, justice, as well as grace.
And for grace itself, whereas all since die apostasy lie together
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 49
in a fearful gulf of impurity and misery ; and some, made
more early sensible hereof than the most, do stretch out a crav-
ing hand, and cry for help. If now a mercifulhand reached
down from heaven take hold of them, and pluck them sooner
out : is this disagreeable to the God of all grace, to make some
such instances, and vouchsafe them an earlier deliverance ;
though they might, being longer delayed, be some way helpful
to others, that continue stupid and insensible ?
(2.) When he hath done much, in an age still obstinately
unreclaimable, lie may be supposed to let one appear, only
with a promising aspect, and in just displeasure presently with-
draw him, that they may understand they have forfeited such
a blessing, to this or that country, as such a one might have
proved.
($.) This may awaken some, the more to prize and improve
the encouragements they may have from such as remain, or
shall spring up in their stead, who are gone, and to bless God
that the weight of his interest, and of the cause of religion,
<loth not hang and depend upon the slender thread of this man's
life. " The God of the spirits of all flesh' 1 can raise up in-
struments as he pleases ; and will, to serve his own purposes,
though not ours.
. (4.) He will have it known, that though he uses instruments,
he needs them not. It is a piece of divine royalty and magni-
ficence, that when he hath prepared and polished such a
utensil, so as to be capable of great service, he can lay it by
without loss.
(5.) They that are most qualified to be of greatest use in this
world, are thereby also the more capable of blessedness in the
other. It is owing to his most munificent bounty, that he may
vouchsafe to reward sincere intentions, as highly as great ser-
vices. He took David's having it in his heart to build him a
house, as kindly as Solomon's building him one : and as much
magnifies himself in testifying his acceptance of such as he dis-
charges from his service here, at the third hour, as of them
whom he engages not in it till the eleventh.
(6.) Of their early piety he makes great present use in this
world, testifying his acceptance of their works, generally in
his word, and particularly by the reputation he procures to
them in the minds and consciences of such as were best able to
judge, and even of all that knew them, which may be truly
accounted a divine testimony, both in respect of the object,
which hath on it a divine impress, and speaks the seif-recom-
VOL. I. H
50 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
mending power of true goodness, which is the image of God,
and in respect of the subject, shews the dominion God hath
over minds, engaging not only good men to behold with com-
placency such pleasant, blooming goodness, correspondent to
their own ; but even bad men to approve in these others, what
they entertain not in themselves. " The same things are ac-
cepted with God, and approved of men," Horn. 14. 18.
" Thus being dead, they, as Abel, yet speak," Ileb. 11. 4.
(7.) And it is a brighter and more unsullied testimony,
which is left in the minds of men, concerning such very hope-
ful persons as die in their youth. They never were otherwise
known, or can be remembered, than as excellent young
persons. This is the only idea which remains of them.
Had they lived longer, to the usual age of man, the remem-
brance of what they were in youth would have been in a great
degree effaced and worn out by latter things ; perhaps blacks
ened, not by what were less commendable, but more ungrate-
ful to the greater part, especially if they lived to come into
public stations. Their just zeal and contestations against the
wickedness of the age, might disoblige many, and create them
enemies, who would make it their business to blast them, and
cast upon their name and memory all the reproach they could
invent. Whereas the lustre of that virtue and piety which had
provoked nobody, appears only with an amiable look, and
leaves behind nothing of such a person but a fair, unblemisln
ed, alluring and instructive example ; which they that ob-
served them might, with less prejudiced minds, compare with
the useless, vicious lives of many that they see to have filled up
a room in the world, unto extreme old age, either to no pur-
pose, or to very bad. And how vast is the difference in respect
of usefulness to the world, between a pious young gentleman
dying in his youth, that lived long in a little time, untainted
by youthful lusts and vanities, and victorious over them, and
an accursed sinner of an hundred years old; (Isa. 65. 20.)
one that was an infant of days, and though an hundred years
old, yet still a child, that had not filled up his da^ys with any
thing of real value or profit to himself or others : so some very
judicious expositors understand that text. And as Seneca
aptly speaks, Non est quod quenquam propter canos aut rugas,
putes diu vixisse. Non ille diu vixit, sed diu fuit — had no-
thing besides gre?/ hairs, and wrinkles, to make him be thought
a long liver ; but who might truly be said not to have lived
long, but only to have been long, in the world. How sweet
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 51
and fragrant a memory doth the one, how rotten and stinking
a name doth the other, leave behind hiin to survivors !
Therefore such very valuable young persons as are taken
hence in the flower of their age, are not to be thought, upon
that account, of usefulness to this world, to have lived in it
thai shorter time in vain.
They leave behind them that testimony which will turn to ac-
count, both for the glory of God's grace, which he hath ex-
emplified in them, and which may be improved to the good of
many who shall have seen that a holy life, amidst the tempta-
tions that the youthful age is exposed to, is no impracticable
thing ; and that an early death is as possible also to themselves.
But besides their no little usefulness in this world, which they
leave, we must know,
(8.) That the affairs and concernments of the other world,
whither they go, are incomparably greater every way, and
much more considerable. And to this most unquestionable
maxim must be our last and final resort, in the present case.
All the perturbation and discomposure of mind which we suffer
upon any such occasion, arises chiefly from our having too
high and great thoughts of this world, and too low and dimi-
nishing thoughts of the other ; and the evil must be remedied
by rectifying our apprehensions in this matter. Because
that other world is hades, unseen, and not within the verge of
our sense, our sensual minds are prone to make of it a very
little thing, and even next to nothing, as too many will have
it to be quite nothing at all. We are concerned, in duty
to our blessed Redeemer and Lord, and for his just honour, to
magnify this his prefecture, and render it as great to ourselves
as the matter requires, and as our very narrow minds can ad-
mit : and should labour to correct it as a great and too common
fault, a very gross vulgar error, to conceive of persons leaving
this world of ours, as if they hereby became useless ; and,
upon the matter, lost out of the creation of God. So is our
fancy prepossessed and filled with delusive images, that throng
in upon it through our unwary senses, that we imagine this
little spot of our earth to be the only place of business, and all
the rest of the creation to be mere vacuity, vast empty space,
where there is nothing to do, and nothing to be enjoyed. Not
that these are formed, positive thoughts, or a seltled judgment,
with good men, but they are floating imaginations, so conti-
nually obtruded upon them, from (what lies next) the objects
of sense, that they have more influence to affect the heart, and
'52 the redeemer's dominion'
infer unsuitable, sudden, and indeliberate emotions of spirit,,
than the" most formed judgment, grounded on things that lie
without the sphere of sense, can outweigh.
And hence when a good man dies, elder or younger, the
common cry is, among the better sort, (for the other do less
concern themselves,) " O what a loss is this! Not to be re-
paired ! not to be borne !" Indeed this is better than the com-
mon stupidity, not to consider, not " to take it to heart, when
the righteous man perishcth, or is taken away." And the law
of our own nature obliges and prompts us to feel and regret the
losses which afflict us. But such resentments ought to be fol-
lowed and qualified by greater thoughts, arising from a superior
nature, that ought presently to take place with us, of the nobler
employments which God calls such unto, " of whom this world
was not worthy," Hcb. 1 1 .. 38. And how highly his greatand
all-comprehending interest is to be preferred before our own, or
the interest of this or that family, country, or nation, on earth !
And, at once both to enlarge and quiet our minds, on such-
occasions we should particularly consider,
[1.] The vast amplitude of the heavenly hades, in compa-
rison of our minute spot of earth, or of that dark region,
wheresoever it is, reserved for the just punishment of delin-
quents, according to such intimations as the holy Scriptures
give us hereof; which being written only for the use of us on
earth, cannot be supposed to intend the giving us more distinct
accounts of the state of things in the upper world, than were
necessary for us in this our present state.
But it is no obscure hint that is given of the spaciousness of
the heavenly regions, when purposely to represent the divine
immensity, it is said of the unconfined presence of the great
God, that even heaven, and the heaven of heavens, cannot
contain him, 1 Kings 8. 27. 2 Chron. 6. 18. How vast scope
is given to our thinking minds, to conceive heavens above hea-
vens, encircling one another, till we have quite tired our fa-
culty, and yet we know not how far short we are of the utmost
verge ! And when our Lord is said to have ascended far above
all heavens, (Eph. 4. 10.) whose arithmetic will suffice to tell
how many they are? "Whose uranography to describe how
far that is ?
We need not impose it upon ourselves to judge their rules
infallible, who, being of no mean understanding, nor indili-
gent in their inquiries, have thought it not improbable that there
may be fixed stars within view, at that distance from our earth*
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 53
that if moveable in as swift motion as that of a bullet shot from
a cannon, would be fifty thousand years in passing from one to
the other.* But how much remoter that star may be from the
utmost verge of the universe, is left altogether unimaginable.
I have been told that a very ingenious artist going about, in
exact proportions, to describe the orb or vortex to which our
sun belongs, on as large a table as could be convenient for him
to work upon, was at a loss to find a spot not too big, in pro-
portion, for our earth, and big enough, whereupon to place
the point, made very fine, of one foot of his compasses.
If any suspect extravagancy in our modern computations, let
him take a view of what is discoursed to this purpose by a.
writer of most unexceptionable wisdom and sobriety, as Avell
as most eminent sanctity, in his time.t
Now when the Lord of this vast universe beheld upon this
little spot intelligent creatures in transgression and misery, that
he did so compassionately concern himself for the recovery of
such as should, by apt methods, be induced to comply with
his merciful design ; and appoint his own eternal Son to be
their Redeemer, in order whereto, as he was God with God,
he must also become Man, among men, one of themselves ; and
so, as God-man, for his kindness to some, be constituted uni-
versal Lord of all. Shall mere pity towards this world greaten
it above the other ?
But we are not left without ground to apprehend a more im-
mediate reason for his being, as Redeemer, made Head and
Lord of all those creatures that were the original inhabitants of
the invisible world. For when it had been said, (Col. 1. 16.)
that all things were created by him, not only the visible things
* Computation by the Hon. Francis Roberts, Esq. Philosophical Trans-
actions for the months of March and April, 1604.
t Bolton, in his Four Last Things, who speaking of heaven, directs us
to guess, the immeasurable magnitude of it, (as otherwise so) by the
incredihle distance from the earth to the starry firmament; and adds,
" If I should here tell you the several computations of astronomers, in
this kind, the sums would seem to exceed all possibility of belief." And
he annexes in his margin sundry computations which I shall not here re-
cite; you may find them in the author himself, p. 21. A«d yet besides,
as he further adds, the late most learned of them place above the 8th
sphere, wherein all those glorious lamps shine so bright, three moving
orbs more. Now the empyrean heaven comprehends all these; how in-
comprehensible, then, must its compass and greatness necessarily be !
But he supposes it possible, the adventure of mathematicians may be too
audacious and peremptory, &c. and concludes the height and extent of
the heavens to be beyond all human investigation.
54 t:ie redeemer's dominion
on earth, but the invisible tilings in heaven, here is a regression
to these latter, who were before, for their greater dignity, ge»
norally first mentioned, and now some enumeration given of
diem, whether they Dethrones, or dominions, or principalities,
or powers, and all tilings again repeated, that these might ap-
pear expressly included ; said over again to be created by him*
and for him, which was sufficient to express his creative right
in them. It is presently subjoined, (v. 17.) " And he is be-
fore all things, and by him all tilings consist." All owe their
stability to him ; namely, the mentioned thrones, dominions,
&c. as well as other things. But how ? or upon what terms ?
That we might understand his redemptory right was not hereto
be overlooked, it is shortly after added, " And having made
peace by the blood of his cross, it pleased the Father" (to be
repeated out of what went before ) " by h im to reconcile all things
to himself;" and this by him, iterated ; as if he had said, " By
him shedding his blood on the cross, whether they be things on
earth, or things in heaven ;" lest the thrones, dominions, &c.
mentioned before, should be forgot. And a word is used ac-
commodable enough to the several purposes before expressed,
K9ro)taT*AAa|a:(, which doth not always suppose enmity, but more
generally signifies, upon a sort of commutation, or valuable
consideration, to procure or conciliate, or make a thing more
/Irmly one's own, or assure it to himself ; though it is afterw ards
used in the stricter sense, v. 21.
I have often considered with wonder and pleasure, that
whereas God is called by that higher and far more extensive
name, the Father of spirits, he is also pleased so graciously
to vouchsafe, as to be styled the God of the spirits of alljlesh ;
and thereby to signify, tiiat having an order of spirits so meanly
lodged that inhabit frail and mortal flesh, though he have a
world of spirits to converse with whose dwelling is not with
flesh, yet he disdains not a relation to so mean and abject spi-
rits, his offspring also, in our world. And that, because this
was the place of offending delinquents that he would recover,
the Redeemer should sort himself with them, and, as they were
partakers of flesh and blood, himself likewise take part of the
same! This was great and Godlike, and speaks the largeness
and amplitude of an all-comprehending mind, common to Fa-
ther and Son, and capable of so applying itself to the greatest
things, as not to neglect the least : and therefore so much the
more magnifies God and our Redeemer, by how much the less
considerable we and our world are. But that hence we should
so over-magnify this w orid, as if nothing were considerable
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 53
that lies without its compass, is most perversely to misconstrue
the most amazing- condescension.
The Spirit of God, by holy David, teaches us to reason the
quite contrary way : and from the consideration he had of the
vastness and splendour of the upper world, of the heavens, the
moon and stars, &c. not to magnify, but diminish our world of
mankind, and say, What is man !
.And let. us further consider,
[2.] The inexpressible numerousness of the other world's
inhabitants, with the excellencies wherein they shine, and the
orders they are ranked into, and how unlikely it is, that holy
souls that go thither should want employment. Great con-
course and multitudes of people make places of business in
this world, and must much more do so, where creatures of the
most spiritual and active natures must be supposed to have
their residence. Scripture speaks of myriads, which we read,
an innumerable company, of angels, besides all the spirits of
just men ; (Heb. 12.) who are sometimes said to be more
than any one — bSsiV, which we causelessly render man, could
number, Rev. 7. And when we are told of many heavens,
above all which our Lord Jesus is said to have ascended, are
all those heavens only empty solitudes ? Uninhabited glorious
deserts ? When we find how full of vitality this base earth of
ours is ; how replenished with living creatures, not only on
the surface, but within it, how unreasonable is it to suppose
the nobler parts of the universe to be less peopled with inhabit-
ants, of proportionable spirituality, activity, liveliness, and
vigour, to the several regions, which, the remoter they are
from dull earth, must be supposed still the finer, and apt to
afford fit and suitable habitations to such creatures ? Whether
we suppose pure unclothed spirits to be the natives in all those
heavens, all comprehended under the one name of angels, or
whether, as some think of all created spirits, that they have
all vital union with some or other vehicles, ethereal or ce-
lestial, more or less fine and pure, as the region is to which
they belong, having gradually associated unto them the spirits
of holy men gone from us, which are said to be \<r«.yys\oi —
angels'' fellows, (Luke 20. 36.) it is indifferent to our pur*
pose.
Let us only consider them all as intelligent, spiritual beings,
full of holy light, life, active power, and love to their com-
mon Lord and one another. And can we imagine their state to
be a state of torpid silence, idleness, and inactivity, or that
they have not much higher and nobler work to do there, than
56 the redeemer's dominion
ihey can have in such a world as this, or in such bodies as here
they lug to and fro ?
And the Scriptures are not altogether silent, concerning the
distinct orders of those glorious creatures that inhabit all the
heavens which this upper hades must be understood to contain ;
though it has not provided to gratify any one's curiosity, so far
as to give us particular accounts of their differences and dis-
tinctions. And though we are not warranted to believe such
conjectures concerning them as we find in the supposititious
Dionysius's Celestial Hierarchy, or much less the idler dreams
of Valentinus and the Gnosticks about their Mones, with divers
more such fictions ; yet we are not to neglect what God hath
expressly told us, namely, That giving us some account of
the creation in the hades, or the invisible part of it, there are
thrones, dominions, principalities, powers, angels, (and else-
where archangels,) authorities; (Col. 1. 16. with 1 Pet. 3.21.)
which being terms that import order and government, can
scarce allow us not to conceive, that of all those numberless
multitudes of glorious creatures that replenish and people those
spacious regions of light and bliss, there are none who be-
long not to some or other of those principalities and domi-
nions.
Whence therefore, nothing is more obvious than to con-
ceive, that whosoever is adjoined to them, ascending out of our
world, presently hath his station assigned him, is made to
know his post, and how he is to be employed, in the service
and adoration of the sovereign Lord of all, and in paying the
most regular homage to the throne of God and the Lamb : it
being still to be remembered, that God is not worshipped there,
or here, as an hhw, or as though he needed any thing, since
he gives to all breath and being, and all things, (Acts 17.)
but that the felicity of his most excellent creatures doth in
great part consist in acting perpetually according to the dictate
of a just and right mind ; and that therefore they take highest
pleasure in prostration, in casting down their crowns, in
shrinking even into nothing, before the original, eternal, sub-
sistent Being, that he may be owned as the All in all, because
they follow, herein, a most satisfied judgment, and express it
when they say, " Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory,
and honour, and power, for thou hast created all things, and
for thy pleasure they are, and were created, Rev. 4. 11. And
worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive riches, and wis-
dom, and strength," &c. ch. 5. 12.
And they that rest not night or day from such high and glo-
OVER THE INYT?IBLE WORLD. 57
rious employments, have they nothing to do ? Or will Ave say
or think, because vVe see not how the heavenly potentates lead
on their bright legions, to present themselves before the throne,
to fender their obeisance, or receive commands and dispatches
to this -r that far remote dynasty ; or suppose to such and such
a nv'ghfy star, (whetebi ■ numberless myriads; and
why snotiictwe si ppi not replenished with glorious in-
habitant?; ?) whither they fly as quick as thought, with joyful
speed, under the all-seeing Eye, glad to execute wise and just
commands upon all occasions, But alas ! in all this we can
but darken counsel with words without knowledge. We cah-
not pretend to knowledge in these things ; yet if from Scrip-
ture intimations, and the concurrent reason of thing", we only
make suppositions of what may be, not conclusions of what is :
let our thoughts ascend as much higher as they can. I see
not why they should fall lower than all this. And because we
cannot be positive, will we therefore say or think there can be
no such thing, or nothing but dull inactivity, in those re-
gions? Because that other world is hades, and we see nothing,
shall Ave make little or next to nothing of it ? We should think
it very absurd reasoning, (if we should use it, in reference to
such mean trifles in comparison, and say.) There is no such
thing as pomp and state, no such thing as action or business,
in the court of Spain or France, of Persia or Japan, because no
sound from thence strikes our ear, or the beams of majesty there
dazzle not our eye.
1 should indeed think it very unreasonable to make mere
magnitude, or vast extent of space, filled up with nothing but.
void air, ether, or other fine matter, (call it by what name
you will,) alone, or by itself, a very considerable note of ex-
cellency of the other invisible world, above this visible world
of ours. But I reckon it much more unreasonable and unen-
forced, (to say no more,) by any principles, either of philo-
sophy or religion, finding this w r orId of ours, a baser part of
the creation, so full of life, and of living inhabitants, of one
degree or another ; to suppose the nobler parts of the universe,
still ascending upwards, generally unpeopled, and desert, when
it is so conceivable in itself, and so aptly fending' to magnify
our Creator and Redeemer. I the upper regions be fully
inhabited with intelligent creatures ; Whether mere spirits, un-
clothed with any thing material, or unite! with some or other
matter, we need not determine.
And whereas Scripture plainly intimates, that the apostate
revolted spirits that fell from God, and kept not their first sta-
vol. i. i
58 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
tions, were vastly numerous ; wc have hence scope enough
for our thoughts to conceive, that so spacious regions being
replenished with intelligent creatures, always innocent and
happy, the delinquents, compared with them, may be as des-
picable for their paucity, as they are detestable for their apos-
tasy : and that the horrid hades, wherein they are reserved to
the blackness of darkness for ever, may be no more in propor-
tion, nay, inexpressibly less, than some little rocky island, ap-
pointed as a place of punishment for criminals, in comparison of
a flourishing, vast empire, fully peopled with industrious, rich,
sober-minded, and happy inhabitants.
We might further consider,
[3.] The high perfection they presently attain to, who are
removed, though in their younger years, out of this, into that
other world.
The spirits of just men are there said to be made perfect.
Waving the Olympiek metaphor, which is, at most, but the
thing signifying; that whicli is signified, cannot be less than
the concurrence of natural and moral perfection : the perfect-
ing of all our faculties, mind, will, and active power, and of
all holy and gracious excellencies, knowledge, wisdom, love,
holiness. The apostle makes the difference be, as that of a
child, and that of a man, 1 Cor. IS. And would any one
that hath a child he delights in, wish him to be a child al-
ways, and only capable of childish things ? Or is it a reason-
able imagination, that by how much we are more capable of
action, we shall be the more useless, and have the less to do ?
We may further lastly add, that which is not the least con-
siderable,
[4.] That all the active services and usefulness we are capable
of in this world, are but transitory, and lie within the compass
of this temporary state of things, which must have an end.
Whereas the business of the other world, belongs to our final
and eternal state, which shall never be at an end. The most
extraordinary qualifications for service on earth, must here-
after ; if not by the cessation of the active powers and princi-
ples themselves, as tongues, prophecies, and such knowledge
as is uncommon, and by peculiar vouchsafement afforded but
to a few, for the help of many : these endowments, designed
for the propagation of the Christian faith, and for the stopping
the mouths of gainsayers, must in the use and exercise, at least,
by the cessation of the objects and occasions, fail, and cease,
and vanish away, 1 Cor. 13. 8. The like may be said of
courage and fortitude to contend against prevailing wicked-
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 59
nrss ; skill, ability, With external advantages, to promote the
impugned interest of Christ, and Christian religion ; of all
these there will be no further use in that other world. They
are all to be considered as means to the end. But how absurd
were it to reckon the means of greater importance than the end
itself? The whole present constitution of Christ's kingdom on
earth, is but preparatory and introductive to the celestial king-
dom. And how absurd were it to prefer this temporary kingdom
to the eternal one, and present serviceableness to this, to perpe-
tual service in the other ?
It is true, that service to God and our Redeemer in this
present state, is necessary in its own kind, highly acceptable
to God, and justly much valued by good men. And we ought
ourselves willingly to submit to serve God in a meaner capa-
city in this world, while it is his pleasure Ave shall do so ;
especially if God should have given any signification of his
mind, concerning our abode in the flesh some longer time, as
it is likely he had done to the apostle Paul, (Phil. 1. 24.) be-
cause he says, he was confident, and did know, that so it
should be, (v. 25.) we should be abundantly satisfied with it,
as he was. But to suppose an abode here to be simply and
universally more eligible, is very groundless and unreasonable;
and were a like case, as if a person of very extraordinary abi-
lities and accomplishments, because he was useful in some
obscure country village, is to be looked upon as lost, because
his prince, being informed of his great worth, calls him up to
his court, and finding him every way fit, employs him in the
greatest affairs of state !
To sum up this matter, whereas the means are always ac*
cording to usual estimate, wont to derive their value from their
end; time, from eternity; this judgment of the case, that
usefulness in this present state is of greater consequence and
more important than the affairs of the other world, breaks all
measures, overturns the whole frame, and inverts the order of
things ; makes the means more valuable than the end ; time
more considerable than eternity ; and the concernments of a
state that will soon be over, greater than those of our fixedj
permanent, everlasting state, that will never be over.
If we would allow ourselves the liberty of reasoning, accord-
ing to the measure and compass of our narrow minds, biassed
and contracted by private interest and inclination, we should
have the like plausible things to think, concerning such of
ours as die in infancy, and that when they have but newly
looked into this world, are presently again caught out of it ;
60 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
that if they had lived, what, might they have come to ? How
pleasant and diverting might their childhood have been ? How
hopeful their youth ? How useful their riper age ? But these
are commonly thoughts little wiser than theirs, and proceed
from a general infidelity, or misbelief, that whatsoever is not
within the compass of this little, sorry world, is all emptiness
and nullity ! Or if such be pious and m,ore considering, it is
too plain they do not, however, consider enough, how great
a part it is of divine magnificence, to take a reasonable immor-
tal spirit from animating a piece of well-figured clay, and pre-
sently adjoin it to the general assembly above! How glorious
a change is made upon their child in a moment ! How much
greater a thing it is to be adoring God above, in the society of
angels, than to be dandled on their knee, or enjoy the best
provisions they can make for them on earth ! That they have
a part to act upon an eternal stage ! and though they are but
lately come into being, are never to go out of being more, but
to be everlasting monuments and instruments of the glory of
their great Creator and Lord !
Nor, perhaps, is it considered so. deeply as if, ought, that it
hath seemed meet to the supreme Wisdom, upon a most im-
portant reason, in the c-ise of lengthening or shortening the
lives of men, not ordinarily, or otherwise than upon a great
occasion, to interrupt the tendencies of natural causes. But
let nature run its course : for otherwise, very frequent innova-
tions upon nature would make miracles cheap and common,
and consequently useless to their proper, great ends, which
may be of greater significancy in the course of God's govern-
ment over the world, than some addition to this or that life can
be worth. And therefore this consideration should repress our
wonderment, why God doth not, when he so easily can, by
one touch upon this or that second cause, prevent or ease the
grievous pains which they often sutler that love him, and whom
he loves. He reckons it fitter, and they will in due time rec-
kon so too themselves, when the wise methods of his govern-
ment come to be unfolded and understood, that we should any
of us bear what is ungrateful to us, in point of pain, loss of
friends, or other unpieasing events of providence, than that he
should make frequent and less necessary breaches upon the
common order and course of government which he hath esta-
blished oyer a delinquent, sinful world.
Whereupon it is a great piece of wisdom and dutifulness to-
wards our great Lord, not to pray absolutely, peremptorily, or
otherwise than with great submission and deference to his wise
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD, 61
ond holy pleasure, for our own or our friends' lives, ease, out-
ward prosperity, or any external or temporary good thing. For
things that concern our spiritual and eternal welfare, his good
and acceptable will is more expressly declared, and made known
already and before-hand.
But as to the particular case of the usefulness of any friend or
relative of ours in this or the other state, the matter must be
finally left to the arbitrement and disposal of him who hath the
keys of hades and of death. And when by his turn of thera
he hath decided the matter, we then know what his mind and
judgment are, which it is no more fit for us to censure, than pos-
sible to disannul. Whatever great purposes we might think one
cut off in the flower of his age capable of serving in this world,
we may be sure he judged him capable of serving greater in
the other.
And now by this time I believe you will expect to have some-
what a more particular account of this excellent young gentle-
man, whose early decease hath occasioned my discoursing so
largely on this subject : not more largely than the impor-
tance, but much less accurately than the dignity, of it did
challenge.
He was the eldest son of Sir Charles Hoghton, of Hoghton
Tower, in the county of Lancaster, Baronet, and of the Lady
Mary, daughter of the late Lord Viscount Masserene, his very-
pious consort : a family of eminent note in that northern part
of the kingdom, for its antiquity, opuiency, and interest in
the country where it is seated; and which has intermarried with
some or other of the nobility, one generation after another:
but has been most of all considerable and illustrious, as having
been itself, long, the immemorial, known seat of religion, so-
briety, and good order, from father to son ; giving example,
countenance, and patronage, to these praise-worthy things to
the country round about : and wherein, hitherto, through the
singular favour and blessing of Heaven, there has not been that
visible degeneracy that might be so plainly observed, and sadly
deplored, in divers great families. As if it were an exemption
from what was so anciently remarked by the Poet, JElas paren-
tum, pejor avis — The age of our fathers is worse, than that of
their ancestors. But, on the contrary, such as have succeeded
have, by a laudable ambition and emulation, as it were, striven
to outshine such as have gone before them, in piety and virtue.
In this bright and lucid tract and line, was this most hope-
ful young gentleman, now arrived to the age wherein we use
62 the redeemer's dominion
to write man, beginning to stand up in view, and to draw the
eyes and raise the hopes of observers and well-wishers, as not
likely to come short of any of his worthy ancestors and pre-
decessors. But Heaven had its eye upon him too, and both
made and judged him meet for an earlier translation, to a more
eminent station there.
He was from his childhood observed to be above the com-
mon rate, docile, of quick apprehension, solid judgment, and
retentive memory, and, betimes, a lover of books and learn-
ing-
For religion, his knowledge of the principles of it continually
grew, as his capacity did more and more admit, under the eye
and endeavours of his parents, and such other instructors as they
took care he should never want. But his savour and relish
thereof, and the impression-made thereby upon his soul, was so
deep, and so early, as to be apparently owing to a higher cause,
the gracious operation of the Holy Spirit, and a singular bless-
ing thereby, upon his pious education. And in this way, it
could not be easy, to such as were his most diligent and constant
observers, to conclude or conjecture when God first began to
deal with his spirit.
Above ten years ago, I had opportunity, for a few days,
to have some conversation with him in his father's house : and,
as I could then perceive, his spirit was much tinctured with
religion ; so 1 received information, that for a considerable
time before, there constantly appeared in him such specimina
of serious piety, as were very comfortable to his parents, and
might be instructive to others that took notice of them.
In the course of divers following years, he greatly improved,
under domestic and private instruction, both in grammar-
learning and academical studies, for which he wanted not apt
helps. When there was great reason to hope he was so well
established in religion and virtue as neither to be shocked by
the importunate temptations of a sceptical vicious age in the ge-
neral, nor betrayed by the facility of his own youthful age, his
prudent, worthy father, judged it requisite, and not unsafe, to
adventure him into a place of more hazard, but greater advan-
tage for his accomplishment in that sort of culture and polish-
ing that might, in due time, render him both in reality, and
with better reputation, serviceable in a public station ; that is,
where he might gain such knowledge of the world, of men,
and of the laws of his country, as was proper for his rank, and
one that was to make such a figure in the nation, as it was to
be hoped he might ; and upon that account, not yet a year ago,
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 63
brought him up to London, entered him in the Temple, took
for him convenient lodgings there, and left him settled, unto
mutual satisfaction.
He was little diverted by the noise, novelties, or the gaieties
of the town, but soon betook himself to a course of close study;
discontinued not his converse with God, and thereby learned,
and was enabled, to converse with men warily and with caution,
so as he might be continually improving and gaining good,
without doing or receiving hurt.
The substance of the following account I received from a
pious intelligent young man, who several years attended him
before his coming to town, and afterwards, to the finishing of
his course.
" Mr. Hogliton's early seriousness increased with his years.
His deportment was grave, composed, without any appearance
of pride, which he carefully avoided. His diligence in study
was unusual, and his proficiency very great ; neither was this
less an effect of his conscientiousness in the improvement of his
time, than of his desire after knowledge.
" As to his demeanour and performance of duties towards
his several relations, his self-denial, his sedateness of mind,
his fear of sin, his tenderness of conscience, love of the best
things, and unconcernedness about things of an inferior na-
ture, so far as hath fallen under my observation, in near six
years' time, I believe few, if any, of his years, did exceed
him.
" In Ills sickness he was very patient, submissively undergo-
ing those heavy strokes it pleased God to lay upon him.
tl Upon his apprehension of death, he seemed very little dis-
couraged, but quietly resigned himself into the hands of the all-
wise Disposer of all things.
" Some time before his sickness, and in the time of it, he
said, afflictions were very proper for God's children ; and those
that were never afflicted, had reason to question the truth of
their grace, and God's love to them ; quoting that Scripture,
4 If ye are without chastening, then are ye bastards, and not
sons.*
"He often repeated those words, in the beginning of his
illness : < It is a hard thing to make our calling and our elec-
tion sure.' — ' I desire to glorify God.'
" When he understood, from some expressions of his phy-
sician, how dangerous his distemper was, he said, he knew very
well the meaning of his physician's words ; but that however it
proved, he hoped he was safe.
64 the redeemer's dominion
" He was so strict in the observation of the Lord's-day, that
if he happened to lie longer than ordinary in the morning, he
would continue the later in duties in the evening ; saying, we
ought not to make that day shorter than other days.
" Though he was very intent on his studies, yet on Sa-
turdays he always broke them off at noon, and spent the after-
noon in reading divinity, and preparing himself for the Lord's-
day.
u He was always constant in his secret duties, and suffered
nothing to hinder him from the performing of them.
" Before he expired, he spoke with great assurance of his fu-
ture happiness, and hopes of meeting his relations in glory."
Thus far goes that account.
His sickness wa* short. When, hearing of it, I went to visit
him, I was met in an anti-chamber, by his ingenious, dear
brother, to whom it is no reproach to be second to him, and
who, it is to be hoped, will be at. least truly so ; making him,
though a fair example, yet not a standard ; who has for divers
years been most intimately conjunct and conversant with him,
known bis way, his spirit, his manner of life, his purity ; and
may be led on and excited thereby, wherein he hath observed
him to excel others, to endeavour not to come short, but, if it
were possible, to excel him ; remembering, he is to be the
next solace of his parents, hope of his family, and resort of his
country, if God shall vouchsafe to continue him, in succeed-
ing time.
From him, I had little expectation of finding his sick brother
in a conversable condition, the malignity of his fever having
before seized his head, and very much disordered his intellects;
but going in, 1 was much surprised to find it so far otherwise.
He presently knew me, and his understanding, that served
him for little else, failed him not in the concernments of re-
ligion and of his soul. There was not an improper or mis-
placed word, though the case could not admit of interchang-
ing many, that cam? from him. Concerning the substance
of the gospel of Christ, as it could be shortly summed
up to him, he said, he had no doubt. And his transac-
tions with Christ himself, accepting him, resigning and intrust-
ing himself absolutely and entirely to him, and God in him,
were so explicit, distinct, and clear, as could leave no place of
doubt concerning him. He professed his concurrence to such
requests as were put up to God concerning him, and the next
morning slept quietly in the Lord.
]Sor now will it be unfit, to shut up the discourse with some
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. G5
few suitable reflections upon this double subject : the text, and
this providence, taken together.
1. How happy is it, when this power of our great Redeemer
and Lord, mentioned in the text, and a preparation, wkh cheerful
willingness, dutifully to comport with it, concur and meet toge-
ther, as they have done in this instance ! Our Lord hath shewn
his power: he asserted it, in the text : in this instancehe used it ;
giving an open testimony that he takes it to belong to him, to
make such translations from one world to another, whensoever he
judges it a fit season ; nor is solicitous whether men acknowledge
his right so to do, or no, or what censures they will pass upon
what he hath done. He does his own work, and leaves men
to their own talk, or mutterings, or wonder, or amusement at
it, as they will. So it becomes sovereign power to do, esta-
blished upon the most unquestionable foundations, exercised
according to the wisest and most righteous measures. He hath
used his own right, and satisfied himself in the use of it. He
thought not himself concerned to advise with any of us about
it, who, as his counsellor, should instruct him, Isa. 40. 13.
Rom. 11. 34. He owes so much to himself, to act as accounta-
ble to no one, nor liable to any one's control.
Here is most rightful, resistless power, justly and kindly used
on the one hand ; and, on the other, how placid, how calm, a
resignation ! Here was no striving, no crying, no reluctant
motion, no querulous, repining voice : nothing but peaceful,
filial submission ; a willingness to obey the summons given.
This was a happy accord, the willingness of this departing
soul, proceeding not from stupidity, but trust in him who
kept these keys ; and such preparedness for removal, as the
gospel required. O happy souls ! that, finding the key is
turning, and opening the door for them, are willing to go forth
upon such terms, as " knowing whom they have believed,"
&c. And that neither w principalities nor powers, life nor death,
&c. can ever separate them from the love of God in Christ
Jesus their Lord." Life, they find; hath not separated,
whereof was the greater danger ; and death is so far from
making this separation, that it shall complete their union with
the blessed God in Christ, and lay them enfolded in the ever-
lasting embraces of divine love ! Happy they, that can here-
upon welcome death, and say, " Now, Lord, lettest thou thy
servant depart in peace !" that before only desired leave to die,
and have now obtained it ; that are, with certainty of the
issue, at the point of becoming complete victors over the last
enemy, and are ready to enter upon their triumph, and to
vol. i. K
66 the redeemer's dominion
take up their linvkioy, " Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory >
Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through Jesus
Christ our Lord." Happy soul ! here will be a speedy end
of all thy griefs and sorrows ; they will be presently swallowed
up in an absolute plenitude and fulness of joy. There is
already an end put to thy tormenting cares and fears ; for what
object can remain to thee of a rational fear, when once, upon
grounds such as shake not under thee, thou art reconciled to
death ? This is the most glorious sort of victory, namely, by
reconciliation. For so, thou hast conquered, not the enemy
only, but the enmity itself, by which he was so. Death is
become thy friend, and so no longer to be feared ; nor is there
any thing else, from whence thou art to fear hurt ; for death
was thy last enemy, even this bodily death. The whole region
beyond it is, to one in thy case, clear and serene, when to
others is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever. There
arc no terrible Wi^ara, no formidable consequences, no re-
serves of misery, no treasures of wrath to be feared by thee.
To one in thy condition, may that, without hesitation, be ap-
plied, Nihil metuit, qui oplat mori ; He fears nothing, who
desires to die. Sen. Tr. What is the product of some men's
infidelity, is the genuine product of their faith. From so
contrary causes may proceed the same efFect. The effect, a
willingness to die, or a bold adventure upon death, is the
same, but only in respect of the general kind ; with great dif-
ferences in the special kind, according to the difference and
contrariety of the causes, whereof they discernibly taste and
savour. With infidels, it is a negative, dead, stupid, partial
willingness, or but a non-aversion ; and in a lower, and much
diminished degree : or if some present, intolerable, disgrace-
ful calamity urge them, a rash, obstinate, presumptuous rush-
ing upon death ; because they do not consider consequences.
With believers, such as in reference to the concernments of the
other world do walk by faith, while as yet they cannot walk
by sight, in reference to those things, (2 Cor. 5. 7.) it is a
positive, vital, courage, (v. 8.) 0«#«/*iv, We are confident ;
and a preponderating inclination of will, " We are willing
rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the
Lord •" because, as is manifest, they do consider consequences,
and how blessed a state will certainly ensue ! How vast are
these special differences, of the same thing in the general, wil-
lingness to die !
O the transports of joy that do now most rationally resulr
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 67
From this state of the case, when there is nothing left lying
between the dislodging soul, and the glorious unseen world,
but only the dark passage of death, and that so little formida-
ble, considering who hath the keys of the one, and the other !
How reasonable is it, upon the account of somewhat common
herein, to the Redeemer and the redeemed, although every
thing be not, to take up the following words, that so plainly
belong to this very case : " Therefore my heart is glad, and
my glory rejoiceth ; my flesh also shall rest in hope. For
thou wilt not leave my soul in sheol^ or hades; thou wilt
not forsake or abandon it in that wide world, neither wilt thou
sutler thine holy one to see corruption. Thou wilt shew me
the path of life ; the path that leads unto that presence of
thine, where is fulness of joy, and to those pleasures which
are at thy right hand ; or in thy power, and which are for ever-
more ; and shall never admit either of end, or diminution,"
Ps. 16. 9—11.
Now, what do we mean to let our souls hang in doubt ? Why
do we not drive things for them to an issue ? Put them into
those same safe hands that hold these keys ; absolutely resign,
devote, intrust, and subject them to him ; get them bound up
in the bundle of life ; so adjoin and unite them to him, (not
doubting but as we give them up, he will, and doth, in that
instant, take hold of them, and receive them into union with
himself,) as that we may assure our hearts, that because he
lives, we shall live also, John 14. 19. Thus the ground of
our hope becomes sure, and of that joy which springs from
,such a hope, Rom. b. 2. Our life, we may now say, is hid
with Christ in God ; even though we are, in ourselves, dead,
or dying creatures, Col. 3. 3. Yea, Christ is our Life ; and
when he cc who is our Life shall appear, we shall appear with
him in glory," v. 4. He hath assured us, that because " he
is the Resurrection and the Life, he that believeth in him,
though he were dead, shall yet live :" and that " whosoever
lives, and believes in him," hath thereby a life already begun
in him, in respect whereof " he shall never die," John 11.
25, 26. What now can be surer than this ? So far Ave are at a
certainty, upon the included supposition, that is, that we be-
lieve in him.
And what now remains to be ascertained ? What ? Only
our own intervening death. We must, it is true, be absent
from these bodies, or we cannot, as we would, be present with
the Lord. And is that all ? Can any thing now be more
certain than that ? O happy state of our case ! How should
68 the redeemer's dominion
our hear!"-, spring and leap for joy, that our affairs arc brought
into this posture ; that in order to our perfect blessedness, no-
thing is farther wanting but to die ; and that the certainty of
death completes our assurance of it ! What should now hin-
der our breaking' forth into the most joyful thanksgivings, that
it, is so little doubtful we shall die ; that we are in no danger of
a terrestrial immortalit}- ; and that the only thing that it re-
mained we should be assured of, is so very sure : that we are
sure it is not in the power of all this world to keep us always in
it ; that the most spiteful enemy we havfe in all the world, can-
not do us that spite to keep us from dying ! How gloriously
may good men triumph over the impotent malice of their most
mischievous enemies ! namely, thatthe greatest mischief, even
in their own account, that it can ever be in their power to do
them, is to put it out of their own power ever to hurt them
more ; for they now go quite out of their reach . They can
(being permitted) kill the body, and after that have no more
that they can do, Luke 12. 4. What a remarkable, signifi-
cant, after that, is this ! what a defiance doth it import of the
utmost effort of human power and spite, that here it terminates !
It is now come to its ne phis ultra !
And so Ave are to look upon all our other trials and afflictions,
that in any providential way may befal us ; we may be sick,
in pain, in poverty, in disgrace, but we shall not be always in
mortal flesh, which is the sublratum and the root of all the rest.
Can we be upon better terms, having but two th ings to be con-
cerned about, as necessary to our complete felicity, union with
Christ, and disunion from these bodies ? God is graciously
ready to assist us in reference to the former, though therein he
requires our care, subserviently hereto : in reference to the
latter, he will take care himself, in his own fit season, with-
out any care or concern of ours in the matter ; and only ex-
pects us to wait with patience, till that tit season come. And
come it will, perhaps, sooner than we may think. He doth
not always go by our measures in judging of the fit season, as
this present instance shews.
2. From the text, taken in conjunction with this act of pro-
vidence, we may observe the great advantage of a pious edu-
cation. Though the best means of such education do not al-
ways prove effectual ; yet this being much the more probable
course, upon which to expect God's blessing, than the parents'
profane negligence of the souls of their children, such an ex-
anfple, wherein God by his blessing testified his approbation of
OVER THE INVISIBLE WOULD. 69
parental care and diligence, should greatly quicken the endea-
vours of parents herein ; as hoping, hereby, to serve his great
and merciful and most principal design, who hath these keys,
and whose office it is, to transmit souls, when they are pre-
pared and read} 7 , out of this world of ours, into that blessed,
glorious world above. And though 1hey may think themselves
disappointed, when, through God's blessing upon their en-
deavours, they have educated one to such a pitch as this young
gentleman was raised and brought up unto, with a prospect
and hope of his having a long course of service to run through
here on the earth, yet let parents hence learn to correct what
was amiss, or what was wrong, not what was right and well.
Their action and endeavour were, what ought to be ; their error
or mistake, if there were any, was more principally, as the
case is here stated, about their design and end. Not that they
designed such an end, for that also was very justifiable and
laudable : but if they designed it as their more principal end,
which the case, as it k now put, supposes ; that is, that they
take themselves to be disappointed : for no man complains of it
as a disappointment, if he miss of an inferior end, and attain
that which is far nobler and more excellent. Our great aim
should be, the subserving the design of the great Lord of hea-
ven and earth, which ultimately and supremely refers to the
heavenly, eternal state of things ; and that souls may be ripened
and fitted for that, and to do service here on earth, subordi-
nately to the other, and while they are in preparation for the
heavenly state. His principal design must be for that Avhich is
principal : and concerning that, as was formerly argued, there
can be no more doubt, than whether heaven or earth, eternity or
time, a fixed, permanent, everlasting, or a temporary, transitory,
vanishing state of things, be more valuable, and to be preferred.
Our Redeemer hath acquired, and doth use these keys, for the
translating- of souls, as soon as he shall judge them " meet to
be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light," Col. 1. 12.
Some he makes meet much earlier than others. His design, so
far as it is known, or may be supposed, should give measure to
ours ; therefore ours must be to make them meet, as early as
is possible, for his purposes, as knowing it cannot be too early :
they were devoted to him early, and pursuantly hereto, no time
should be lost from the great business of fitting and forming
them for him ; inasmuch also, as the same qualifications, namely,
that are of higher excellency and value, do equally prepare
them to serve and glorify him, in either world, as he shall
choose to dispose of them. And it unquestionably belongs to
70 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
kim to make his choice, as it does to us to endeavour to maW-
them ready. If any of us, having purposely educated a son
for the service of his prince, and present him accordingly, we
should submit it to his pleasure, to choose the station wherein he
shall serve him ; especially if he be a prince of celebrated wis-
dom and goodness. And should we complain, that lie is put
early into a station of much higher dignity than we thought of?
How little is this matter considered, by most, that go under
the name of Christian parents ; that are, more generally, very
solicitous to have, as they call it, their children christened;
but never have it in their thoughts to have them educated in the
knowledge of Christ, or trained up for Christ. As if their
baptism were intended for a mockery, their education, in the
whole course of it, hath no such reference. It is how they
may with better reputation bear up, not the name of Christ, but
their own. Their aim looks no higher than that they may in-
herit their lands, maintain the honour of their families ; appear,
if such be their own rank, well-accomplished gentlemen : and of
some of those little things that are thought requisite hereto, we
may say, as our Saviour did in another case, These things
ought ye to have done, and not to have left the other, the much
greater things, undone.
What should hinder, but that learning to sing, or dance, or
fence, or to step gracefully, might consist with learning to
know God in Christ, in which knowledge stands eternal life !
Whatsoever hath real excellency, or hath any thing in it of true
ornament, will no way disagree with the most serious Christi-
anity. And how lovely is the conjunction of the well-accom-
plished gentleman, and the serious Christian ! Only sever in-
consistencies, as how fashionably to curse, and swear, and
damn, and debauch, which are thought to belong to good
breeding in our age. /
Let not religion, reason, shame, and common sense, be so
totally abandoned all at once, as that the same persons shall
take care to have their children baptized into Christ's name, and
be taught to renounce, by their deeds, that great name, almost
;is soon as tiny can pronounce the word.
Whore so direct a course is not taken to make those of the
succeeding age ignominiously bad, yet how little is dune to-
wards the making of them truly and usefully good ? M uch care
is taken to shape and adorn the outside of the man, how little
to tbrm and furnish their minds ! Here, if they can be brought
to make or judge of a verse, or a jest, or a piece of wit, it, is
a great attainment. Or ii) at home, they can have them taught,
OVFR THE INVISIBLE WOULD. 71
so much law as shall hereafter enable them to squeeze their te-
nants, and quarrel with their neighbours, or so much of beha-
viour as shall qualify them to keep gentlemen company ; or if,
as our pious poet phrased it, they ship them over, the thing is
done : then they shall be able to talk a little of the fashions of
this or that foreign country, and make much the better figure
in their own.
But if, with all other parts of useful knowledge and good
breeding that are thought requisite for this world, they be also
well instructed touching their Redeemer's dominion over it,
and the other world also ; and concerning the nature, consti-
tution, design, laws, and privileges of his kingdom ; if it be
seriously endeavoured to make them apt and prepared instru-
ments of serving his interest here, as long as he shall please to
continue them in any station on earth ; and that they may also
be made meet to be partakers, at length, of a far more excellent
inheritance than an earthly parent could entitle them to, that
of the saints in light; (Col. 1. 12.) if they can befitted to
stand in the presence of the Eternal King, and to keep com-
pany with angels and blessed spirits above — how worthy and
noble a design is this ! And with what satisfaction is it to be
reflected on, if the parents have ground to apprehend they are
herein neither unaccepted nor disappointed !
3. It is of ill presage to our land, that when he that hath
these keys, uses them in the so early translation of so hopeful a
person as this young gentleman was, so few such are observed
to spring up for the support of the truly Christian interest in
the succeeding generation. That the act of our great Redeemer
and Lord herein was an act of wisdom and counsel, we cannot
doubt. Against the righteousness of it, v/e can have no ex-
ception. The kind design of it towards them whom he so tran-
slates, is so evident in the visible agreement of their spirit and
way, with the heavenly state as their end, as puts that matter
out of question. But we are so much the more to dread the
consequences, and to apprehend what may make our hearts
meditate terror.
By the Christian interest, I am far from meaning that of a
party : but what every one must take for Christianity, that
will acknowledge there is any such thing. And for the support
of that, in the most principal doctrines and laws of it, what is
our prospect ?
To go down here somewhat lower.
Let us suppose a rational susceptibleness, or capacity of
religion, to be the difference of man, wherein the controversy
72 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION
may seem (o admit of being compromised ; whether it be reli-
gion alone, or reason alone, of which this must be said, that it
distinguishes man from the inferior creatures. And let it be
reason, with this addition, an aptness, suspicere nnmen, to be
impressed with some religions sentiment, or to conceive of,
and adore, an original Being ; the wise and mighty Author
and Cause of all things. And now, how near akin are religion
and humanity.
Let us next understand Christianity to be the religion of
fallen man, designing his recovery out of a lapsed and lost
state : that is, man having violated the law of his creation,
and offended against the throne and government of his Creator,
the supreme and universal Lord of all, it was reckoned not be-
coming so great a Majesty (though it was not intended to aban-
don the offenders to a universal ruin, without remedy) to be
reconciled, otherwise than by a mediator and a reconciling sa-
crifice. For which, none being found competent but the Eternal
Son of God, the Brightness of his glory, and the express Image
of his own person, who was also the First and the Last, the
Lord God Almighty ; and partaking with us of flesh and blood,
was capable, and undertook to be both Mediator and Sacrifice.
It seemed meet to the offended Majesty, to vouchsafe pardon
and eternal life, and the renewing grace requisite thereto, to
none of the offenders, but through him ; and accept from them
no homage, but on his account. Requiring, wheresoever the
gospel comes, not only repentance towards God, but faith in
our Lord Jesus Christ, as the summary of the counsel of God
contained therein ; (Acts 20. 21 — 27.) and that all should
honour the Son, as the Father requires to be honoured, John
5. 23.
Whereas now so apt a course as this was established for re-
storing man to himself and to God, through the influence of
the blessed Spirit, flowing in the gospel dispensation from Christ
as the Fountain ; what doth it portend when, amidst the clear
light of the gospel, that affords so bright a discovery of the
glorious Redeemer, and of all his apt methods for bringing to
full effect his mighty work of redemption, an open war is
commenced against him and his whole design, by persons,
under seal, devoted to him ! If there were but one single in-
stance hereof in an age, who would not with trembling expect
the issue ?
But when the genius of a Christian nation seems, in the rising
generation, to be leading to a general apostasy from Christi-
anity, in its principal and most substantial parts; and thev are
3
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 73
only patient of sonic external rituals, that belong, or are made
appendent to it, so as but to endure them, either wit li reluc-
tancv, or contempt : when the juvenile wit and courage which
arc thought to belong to a gentleman entering upon the stage
of the world are employed in satirizing upon the religion into
which they have been baptized, in bold efforts against the Lord
that bought them ! whither doth this tend ?
Some Mould seem so modest, as in the midst of their profane
oaths, and violations of the sacred name of God, to beg his
pardon, and say, God forgive them. But so ludicrously, as he
whom Cato animadverts upon, for begging pardon, that he
wrote in Greek, which he was unacquainted with, saying, he
had rather ask pardon, than be innocent: * for what should in-
duce him to do so unnecessary a thing, for which pardon should
be necessary ? These men think pardons very cheap tilings ;
but will God be mocked ? Or doth he not observe ? It is the
prevailing atheistical spirit we are to dreadj as that which may
provoke jealousy, and to make himself known by the judgments
he shall execute.
There is great reason to hope God will not finally abandon
England. But is there not equal reason to fear, that before
the day of mercy come, there may be a nearer day of wrath
coming ? A day that shall burn as an oven, and make the
hemisphere about us a fiery vault ! In our recovery from a
lapsed state, which the religion professed among us aims at,
there are two things to be effected : the restoring reason to its
empire over the sensitive nature, that it may govern that, and
the restoring religion and love to God to their place, and power,
that he may govern us. While the former is not done, we re-
main sunk into the low level with the inferior creatures ; and
till the latter be effected, we are ranked with the apostate crea-
tures that first fell from God. The sensuality of brutes, and the
enmity of devils, rising and springing up observably among us,
import the directest hostility against the Redeemer's design.
And them that bid this open defiance to him, he hath every
moment at his mercy !
In the mean time, is this Immanuel's land ? His right in u.s
he will not disclaim. And because he claims it, we may ex-
pect him to vindicate himself. His present patience, we are
to ascribe to the wisdom and greatness of an all-comprehend-
ing mind. He counts not a heap of impotent worms his match !
But when the besom of destruction comes, one stroke of it
* Corn. Nep. Frag.
VOL. I. L
74 the redeemer's dominion
will sweep away multitudes : then contempt will be answered
with contempt. They cannot express higher, than to oppose
and militate against a religion, introduced and brought into
the world by so clear, divine light, lustre, and glory, not
by arguments, but by jests ! O that we could but see their
arguments, to dispute those keys out of his hands that holds
them ! But do they think to laugh away the power of the
Son of God ? "He also will laugh at their calamity," &c.
(Prow I.) or expose them to the laughter of men wiser than
they, Ps. b c 2. 5, 6. It is little wit to despise what they can-
not disprove. When we find a connexion between death and
judgment, how will they contrive to disjoin them. They
will be as little able to disprove the one, as withstand the
other.
But a great residue, it is to be hoped, our blessed Redeemer
will, in due time, conquer in the most merciful way, inspiring
them with divine wisdom and love, detecting their errors, mol-
lifying their hardness, subduing their enmity, making them
gladly submit to his easy yoke and light burthen. He is, before
the world end, to have a numerous seed, and we are not to
despair of their rising up more abundantly than hitherto among
ourselves, so as no man shall be therefore ashamed to be thought
a serious Christian, because it is an unfashionable or an ungen-
tee! thing.
Then Will honour be acquired, by living as one that believes
a life to come, and expects to live for ever, as devoted ones,
to the Ruler of both worlds, and candidates for a blessed im-
mortality, under his dominion. Nor will any man covet to
leave a better name behind him, here, or a more honourable
memorial of himself, than by having lived a holy, virtuous
life. It signifies nothing, with the many, to be remembered
when they are gone: therefore is this trust wont to be com-
mitted to marbles and monumental stones. Some have been so
wise, to prefer a remembrance among them that were so, from
their having lived to some valuable purpose. When Rome
abounded with statues and memorative obelisks, Cato forbad
any to be set up for him, because (he said) he had rather it
should be asked. Why he had not one, than why he had. Plu~
tan It de gerund. RepnbL
What a balmy memory will one generation leave to another,
when "the savour of the knowledge of Christ shall be diffused
in every place," (2 Cor. l 2. 14.) and every thing be counted as
dross and dung, that is in any competition with the excellency
of that knowledge : when that shall overflow the world, and
OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 75
one age praise his mighty works, and proclaim his power and
greatness to the next : and the brandies of religious families,
whether sooner or later transplanted, shall leave an odour,
when they are cut off, that shall demonstrate their nearer union
with the true Vine, or speak their relation to the " Tree oflife,
whose leaves are for the healing of the nations ;" even those that
were deciduous, and have dropped off', may (without strain-
ing a borrowed expression) signify somewhat towards this pur-
pose.
4. From both the mentioned subjects, good parents may
learn to do God and their Redeemer all the service they can,
and have opportunity for, in their own time ; without reckon-
ing too much upon what shall be done, by a well-educated,
hopeful son, after they are gone, unless the like dispensation
could be pleaded unto that which God gave to David, to re-
serve the building of the temple to his son Solomon, which,
without as express a revelation, no man can pretend. The
great Keeper of these keys may cross such purposes, and with-
out excusing the father, dismiss the son first. But his judgments
are a great deep, too deep for our line : and his mercy is in the
heavens, (Ps. 36.) extending from everlasting to everlasting,
upon them that fear him ; and his righteousness unto children's
children, Ps. 103.
THE
LIVING TEMPLE,
OR
A DESIGNED IMPROVEMENT OF THAT NOTION,
THAT
JL GOOD M.1JV
IS
THE TEMPLE OF GOD.
PART I.
CONCERNING
Soli's Cjristence,
AND
HIS CONVERSABLENESS WITH MAN.
Against Atheism, or the Epicurean Deism.
TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE
WILLIAM LORD PAGETT,
BARON OF BEUDESERT,
IX THE COUNTY OF STAFFORD.'
My honoured Lord,
T HAVE not the opportunity of begging your Lordship's foregoing leave
to prefix your name to these papers ; but despair not of your following
pardon. Your name must be acknowledged great, through two potent
empires, Christian and Mahometan ; and the services greater which you
have done to many that may perhaps not have heard the sound of your
name. Your prudent and prosperous negotiations in the Austrian and
Ottoman courts, have obliged multitudes, whose better genius hath taught
them more to value themselves, than to think they were born to slavery;
from which you have found means, in great part, to save Europe: some-
where, bv charming great power, so as to conquer the inclination to use
it to so ill a purpose; elsewhere, by preventing its increase, where that in-
clination was invincible. And hereby you have dignified England, in
letting it be seen what it can signify in the world, when it is so happy as
to have its interest managed by a fit and able hand.
Yet that knowledge your Lordship hath heretofore allowed me to have
of you, cannot suffer me to think you will account your name too great
to patronise the cause asserted in the following discourse. That it is un-
polished, will not affect your Lordship ; let that rest where it ought: the
subject and design will, I doubt not, have your Lordship's countenance.
And the rather, that it is not the temple of this or that party that is here
defended, which would little agree to the amplitude of your Lordship's
large mind, and your great knowledge of the world, but that wherein
mankind have a common concern. A temple that is the seat of serious,
living religion, is the more venerable, and the more extensive ; the more
defensible, and the more worthy to be defended, by how much it is the
less appropriate to this or that sect and sort of men, or distinguished by
this or that affected, modifying form; that which according to its primi-
tive designation may be hoped, and ought to be the resort of all nations :
which it is vain to imagine any one, of this or that external form, not pre-
scribed by God himself, can ever be; unless we should suppose it pos-
sible, that one and thesame human prince, or power, could ever come to
govern the world. Such uniformity must certainly suppose such a univer-
sal monarchy as never was, and we easily apprehend can never be. There-
fore, the belief that theCbristian religion shall ever become the religion
of the world, and the Christian church become the common universal
80 EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
temple of mankind; that " the mountain of the Lord's house shall be es-
tablished on the top of the mountains, and all nations flow to it;" (as, be-
sides that, many other texts of holy Scripture do plainly speak ;) and an
intemperate contentious zeal for one external, human form of God's tem-
ple on earth, are downright inconsistencies. That belief, and this zeal,
must destroy one another; especially, that which makes particular tem-
ples, engines to batter down each other, because they agree not in some
human additional*, though all may be charitably supposed to have some
what of divine life in them. Therefore we plainly see, that this universal.
Christian, living temple must be formed and finished, not by human might
or power, but by the Spirit of the living God; which Spirit, poured forth,
shall instruct princes, and the potentates of the world, to receive and
cherish among their subjects the great essentials of Christian religion, and
whatsoever is of plain divine revelation, wherein all may agree, rejecting,
or leaving arbitrary, the little human additaments about which there is so
much disagreement.
Heaven did favour us with such a king : and thanks be to God, that he
hath given us such a queen, who is not for destroying any temples that may
have true vital religion in them, because they neither all have, or have
not, the same pinnacles, or other pieces of ornature alike. God grant all
Christian princes and powers may herein equally imitate them both; as
many do seriously lament the loss of the former.
It has been long the honour of your family to have had great esteem
and reverence for such a temple. And I doubt not, but its having spread
its branches into divers other worthy families of the Hampdens, Foleys,
Ashhursts, Hunts, has given your Lordship much the more grateful and
complacential view, for the affinity to your own in this respect. A temple
80 truly (and even only) august and great, spreads a glory over the families,
kingdoms, and nations where it can have place. What is here written is
a mean oblation, for the service of this temple ; but acceptable, as even
goats' hair was, by being consecrated, with a sincere mind, for the use of
the tabernacle of old.
The First Part betakes itself to your Lordship as an orphan, upon the
decease of its former patron, in hope of some sort of a postliminary re-
ception. And for the Second Part, it is (as your Lordship shall vouch-
safe to receive it) originally and entirely yours.
The former, your Lordship will see, had a former dedication: and T can-
not think it will be displeasing to your Lordship, that 1 let it stand. For
though it mav seem somewhat uncouth and unusual to have two such epis-
tles come so near one another, yet the unfashionableness hereof, I con-
ceive, will, in your Lordship's judgment, be over-balanced by considera-
tions of a preponderating weight, that are suggested to the reader. While,
in the mean time, 1 cannot suppose it unacceptable to your Lordship,
that a person of true worth in his time, related to the same county in which
your Lordship hath so considerable concerns, and not altogether unrelated
to yourself, should have had a participation with you in the same sort of
patronage; with whom your Lordship hath also a true participation, in all
the honour, esteem, and sincere prayers that ever were conceived for
him, by
Your L*rdship's most obedient,
And most devoted, humble Servant,
JOHN HOWE.
ADVERTISEMENT.
Reader,
T>E pleased to take notice, that the former part of this work was here-
tofore inscribed to that worthy person, Sir John Skeffington, of Fisher*
wick, in Staffordshire, Baronet : and who was at that time also, Viscount
Lord Masserene, governor of the county of Londonderry, and one of the
lords of his Majesty Charles the Second's most honourable Privy Council
in the kingdom of Ireland; and now, since, deceased.
I have, however, thought fit to let it be reprinted, (the incongruity
being, by this advertisement, avoided, of making an address anew, in this
new impression, to one no longer in our world,) that the memory of a
person so truly valuable may, so far as this can contribute thereto, he
preserved; and because also, many things in this epistle may be useful,
as a preface, to shew the design of the following discourse. And as this
purpose may be equally served by it as it is, the other purpose being also,
thus, better served, I have not judged it necessary, though that had been
easy, to alter the form; which was as follows :
Although I am not, my Lord, without the apprehension that a temple
OHght to have another sort of dedication, yet I have no such pique at the
custom of former days, but that I can think it decent and just that a dis-
course concerning one conceived under your roof, though born out of
your house, should openly own the relation which it thereby hath, and
the Author's great obligations to your Lordship; and upon this account I
can easily persuade myself (though that custom hath much given place
to this latter one) not to be so fashionable, as even to write in masquerade.
It were indeed most unbecoming, in the service of so noble a cause, to
act in disguise, or decline to tell one's name. And as the prefixing of
one so obscure as that which the title page bears, will be without suspi-
cion of a design to recompense, by the authority of a name, any feared
weakness of the cause itself; so were it very unworthy, having nothing
better, to grudge the bringing even of so mean a thing, as a sacrifice to
the door of the temple.
And although your Lordship's is of so incomparably greater value, yet
also is it (as the equity of the case requires) exposed with less hazard ;
since in common account, the vouchsafement of pardon (whereof I can-
not despair) for such assumed liberty, can with no justice be understood
to import more than only a favourable aspect on the design, without any
interest or participation in the disrepute of its ill management. So that
your honour is in no more jeopardy than the main cause itself, which
is but little concerned in the successfulness or miscarriage of this or that
effort, which is made on behalf of it; and which, you are secure, can re-
ceive no real damage. For the foundations of this temple are more stable
than those of heaven and earth, it being built upon that Rock against
which the gates of hell can never prevail.
And if, in any unforeseen state of things, you should ever receive pre-
vol. i. M
8S DEDICATION.
judiee, or incur danger by any real service you should design unto the
temple of God, j-our adventure would be the more honourable, by how
much it were more hazardous. The Order of Templars, your Lordship
•well knows, was not, in former days, reckoned inglorious.
But as (his temple is quite of another constitution and make than that
at Jerusalem, and (to use those words of the Sacred Writer) u^poTioinr^f
TtffiV'v « t<xvti>s ms Krlvtvs .—not made with hands, that, is to say, not of
this building ; (Fleb. 9. 11.) so what is requisite to the interest and ser-
vice of it, is much of another nature. Entire devotedness to God, sin-
cerity, humility, charity, refinedness from the dross and baseness of the
earth, strict sobriety, dominion of one's self, mastery over impotent and
ignominious passions, love of justice, a steady propension to do good,
delight in doing it, have contributed more to the security and beauty of
Gods temple on earth ; conferred on it more majesty and lustre; done
more to procure it room and reverence among men, than the most pros-
perous violence ever did : the building up of this temple, even to the
laying on the top-stone, (to be followed with the acclamations of Grace,
Grace,) being that which must be done, not by might or power, but by
the Spirit of the Lord. Which, inasmuch as the structure is spiritual,
and to be situated and raised up in the mind or spirit of man, works, in
order to it, in a way suitable thereto. That is, very much by soft and
gentle insinuations, unto which are subservient the self-recommending
amiableness and comely aspect of religion ; the discernible gracefulness
and uniform course of such in whom it bears rule, and is a settled, liv-
ing law. Hereby the hearts of others are captivated and won to look
towards it: made not only desirous to taste its delights, but, in order
thereto, patient also of its rigours, and the rougher severities which
their drowsy security and unmortified lusts do require should accom-
pany it; the more deeply and thoroughly to attemper and form them to
it. Merely notional discourses about the temple of God, and the ex-
ternal forms belonging to it, (how useful soever they be in their own
kind and order,) being unaccompanied with the life and power whereto
they should be adjoined, either as subservient helps, or comely expressions
thereof, do gain but little to it in the estimation of discerning men.
Much more have the apparently useless and unintelligible notions,
with the empty formalities too arbitrarily affixed to it, by a very great,
namely, the unreformed part of the Christian world, even there exposed
it to contempt, where the professed (but most irrational and hopeless) de-
sign hatb been to draw to it respect and veneration.
And when these have become matter of strife, and filled the world with
noise and clamour, through the imperious violence of some, and the fac-
tious turbulency of others ; it hath made it look with a frightful aspect,
and rendered the divine presence, so represented, an undesired, dreadful
thing. This may make that the language of fear with some, (which is of
enmity with the most,) " Depart from us, we desire not the knowledge of
thy ways."
Most of all ; when a glorying in these things, and contention about
them, are joined with gross immoralities; either manifest impiety, sen-
sual debaucheries, acts of open injustice, or the no less criminal evil of
a proud, wrathful, ungovernable temper of spirit ; this hath made it a
most hateful thing in the eyes of God and men, and turned that which
should be the house of prayer unto all nations, into a den of robbers;
DEDICATION. 83
hath cast the most opprobrious contumely upon him whom they would
entitle the owner of it. That is, when men will steal, murder, com-
mit adultery, swear falsely, oppress the stranger, the fatherless, and the
widow ; and yet cry, The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord,
&c. ; it is as if they would make the world believe, that the holy God,
the great Lover and Patron of purity and peace, had erected, on pur-
pose, a house on earth, to be the common harbour and sanctuary of
the- vilest of men, the very pests of human society, and disturbers of
mankind.
And if they were not the verv worst, yet how absurd and senseless a
thing were it, that he should be thought to appropriate a people to him-
self, have them solemnly baptized into his name, and trained up in a pro-
fessed belief of those his more peculiar revelations, which are without the
common notice of the most; and in the use of certain (somewhat dif-
ferent) external institutes, being yet content that, in all things else, they
be but just like the rest of the world.
Though he may be, for some time, patient of this indignity, and con-
nive at such a state and posture of things, (as he did a great while
towards the Jews of old,) yet, that this should be thought the top of his
design, and the thing he lastly aimed at, and would acquiesce in, sup-
poses such a notion of God, as than which, worshipping a stock were
not more foolish and impious ; and professed atheism as rational and in-
nocent.
This hath spoiled and slurred the glory of the Christian temple, the
most august and magnificent the world hath, (and which, indeed, only
hath right to the name,) made the religion of Christians look like an
empty vanity, and appear, for many ages, but as an external badge of
civil distinction between them and another sort of men, that are only
contending for enlarging of empire, and who shall grasp most power int6
their hands; both having also their sub-distinguishing marks besides,
under which too probably divers of those who have adjoined themselves
to the so differenced parties, furiously drive at the same design. And
these zealously pretend for religion and the temple of God; when, in
the mean time, it were a thing perfectly indifferent (even in itself, as
well as in the opinion of the persons concerned) what religion or way
they were of, true or false, right or wrong, Paganish, Mahometan, Jew-
ish, Christian, Popish, Protestant, Lutheran, Calvinistical, Episcopal,
Presbyterial, Independent, &c. : supposing there be any of each of these
denominations that place their religion in nothing else but a mere as-
sent to the peculiar opinions, and an observation of the external for-
malities, of their own party ; and that they never go further, but re-
main finally alienated from the life of God, and utter strangers to the
soul-refining, governing power of the true religion. Only, that their case
is the worse, the nearer they approach, in profession, to the truth.
And really, if we abstract from the design and end, the spirit and life,
the tranquillity and pleasure, of religion, one would heartily wonder
what men can see in all the rest, for which they can think it worth the
while to contend, to the disquieting themselves and the world. Nobody
can believe they regard the authority of God, in this doctrine or insti-
tution, rather than auother, who neglect and resist the substance and
main scope of religion, recommended to them by the same authority.
And as to the matters themselves which will then remain to be disputed,
84; DEDICATION.
we have first the distinguishing name; and if we run over all these befrae
recited, is it a matter of that consequence, as to cut throats, and lay towns
and countries desolate, only upon this quarrel, which of these hath the
handsomer sound ? The different rites of this or that way, to them who
have no respect to the authority enjoining them, must, in themselves,
signify as little. And for the peculiar opinions of one or another sect, it
may he soberly said, that a very great part understand no more of the
distinguishing principles of their own, than he that was yet to learn how
many legs a sectary had. Only they have learned to pronounce the word
which is the Shibboleth of their party, to follow the common cry, and run
with the rest, that have agreed to do so to.
But if they all understood the notions ever so well, (not to speak of only
those which are peculiar to their way, but,) which are most necessary to
true religion itself; were it not, in them, a strange frenzy, to contend with
clubs and swords about a mere notion, which has no influence on their
practice, and they intend never shall ? If any should piofess to be of opi-
nion that a triangle is a figure that hath four corneis, sober men would
think it enough to say they were mad, but would let them quietly enjoy
their humour, and never think it fit to levy armies against them, or em-
broil the world upon so slender a quarrel. And wherein can the notions
belonging to religion be rationally of higher account, with them, who
never purpose to make any use of them, and against which it is impossi-
ble for any to fight so mischievously by the most vehement, verbal oppo-
sition, as themselves dr;, by their opposite practice, most directly assault-
ing, and striking at, even what is most principally fundamental to religion
and the temple of God ? Not that these great things are unworthy to be
contended for. All that I mean is, what have these men to do with them ?
or how irrationally and inconsistently with themselves do they seem so
concerned about them ?
For even lesser things, the appendages to this sacred frame, are not
without their just value, to them who understand their intent and use. Nor
am I designing to tempt your Lordship to the neglect or disesteem of any,
the least thing appertaining to religion. And if any other should, I re-
joice daily to behold in you that resolute adherence to whatsoever appa-
rently divine truth and institution, to common order, decency, peace
and unity, (which so greatly contribute both to the beauty and stability
of God's house,) that may even defy and dismay the attempt; and gives
ground, however, to be confident it would be labour bestowed as vainly,
as it were impiously designed. So much greater assurance do you give of
your constant fidelity and devotedness to the substance of practical reli-
gion itself.
Only how deeply is it to be resented, that while it should be so with all
others, so few understand wherein that substance doth consist. I shall
not now take notice of men's very different (which must infer some men's
mistaken) apprehensions concerning the things necessary to be believed.
But, besides that, though some religious sentiments be most deeply na-
tural to men, (and, for aught we certainly know, as far extended as the true
notion of humanity can be,) yet, in all times, there has been a too ge-
neral mistake (not peculiar to the Paganish world only) of the true design,
ar.d proportionably of the genuine principle of it.
That is, it has not been understood as a thing designed to purify ar.d
refine men's spirits, to reconcile and join them to God, associate them
with him, and make them finally blessed in him. But only to avert or
DEDICATION- 85
pacify his wrath, procure his favourable aspect on their secular affairs,
(how unjust soever,) while, in the mean time, they have thought of no-
thing less than becoming like to him, acquainted with him, and happy in
him. A reconciliation hath only been di earned of on cne side, namely,
on his, not their own ; on which, they are not so much as inclined to any
thing else, than the continuance of the former distance and disaffection.
Consonantly whereto, it is plainly to be seen, that the gieat principle
which hath mostly animated religion in the world hath not been a gene-
rous love, but a basely servile fear and dread. Whence the custom of
sacrificing hath so generally prevailed (whencesoever it took its rise) in
the Pagan world. And with so deep an apprehension of its absolute ne-
cessity, that men of even so vile and barbarous manners* as the Gauls
of old, chose, in matters of controversy, to submit their greatest con-
cernments to the pleasure and arbitrament of their Druids, (those sacred
persons, as they reckoned them) rather than be interdicted the sacrifices
(the only punishment they could inflict) in case of their refusal: which
punishment (as is testified by Julius Cassarf) they accounted the most
grievous imaginable. And it needs not be said in what part of the world
the same engine hath had the same power with men, even since they
obtained to be called Christian. Which, while ithath been of such force
with them, who, notwithstanding, persisted in courses of the most pro-
fligate wickedness; whence could their religion, such as it was, proceed,
save only fron a dread of divine revenge? What else could it design
(though that most vainly J but the averting it, without even altering their
own vile course?
Now let this be the account and estimate of religion; only to propitiate
the Deity towards flagitious men, still remaining so; and how monstrous
a notion doth it give us of God, that he is one that by such things can
ever be rendered favourable to such men ! Let it not be so, (while you
sever its true and proper end also,) how most despicably inept and foolish
a thing doth it make religion ! A compages and frame of merely scenical
observances and actions, intended to no end at all.
Ina word, their religion is nothing but foolery, which is not taken up
and prosecuted with a sincere aim to the bettering their spirits ; the making
them holy, peaceful, meek, humble, merciful, studious of doing good,
and the composing them into temples, some way meet for the residence
of the blessed God ; with design and expectation to have his intimate,
vital presence, settled and made permanent there.
The materials and preparation of which temple are no where entirely
contained and directed, but in the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ: as,
hereafter, we may with divine assistance labour to evince. The greater is
the ignominy done to the temple of God, and the Christian name, by only
titular and nick-named Christianity. Will they pretend themselves the
temple of God, partakers in the high privilege and dignity of the Emma-
nuel, (in whom most eminently the Deity inhabiteth,) who are discerni-
biy, to all that know them, as great strangers to God, and of a temper of
spirit as disagreeing to him, of as worldly spirits, as unmortified passions, as
proud, wrathful, vain-glorious, envious, morose, merciless, disinclined
to do good, as any other men ? When God cleanses his house, and
purges his floor, where will these be found ?
* See the character given of them by Cicero, Orat. pro Marc. Fon.
f Comment, lib. ^
86 DEDICATION.
And for this temple itself, it is a structure whereto there is a concur-
rence of truth and holiness ; the former letting in (it were otherwise a
darksome, disorderly, uncomfortable house) a vital, directive, formative
light, to a heavenly, calm, God-like frame of spirit, composed and made
up of the latter.
It is this temple, my Lord, which I would invite you both to continue
your respect unto in others, and, more and more, to prepare and beautify
in yourself.
You will find little, in this part, offered to your view, more than only
its vestibulum, or rathe - a very plain (if not rude) frontispiece; with the
more principal pillars that must support the whole frame. Nor, whereas
(by way of introduction to the discourse of this temple, and as most fun-
damental to the being of it) the existence of the great Inhabitant is
so largely insisted on, that I think that altogether a needless labour. Of
all the sects and parties in the world, (though there are few that avow it,
and fewer, ifany, that are so, by any formed judgment, unshaken by a
suspicion and dread of the contrary,) that of atheists we have reason
enough to suppose the most numerous, as having diffused and spread itself
through all the rest, And though, with the most, under disguise, yet un-
covering, with too many, its ugly face: and scarce ever more than in our
own days. Wherefore, though it hath never been in any age more strongly
impugned; yet, because the opposition can never be too common, to so
common an enemy, this additional endeavour may prove not wholly out of
season. And the Epicurean atheist is chiefly designed against in this dis-
course ; that being the atheism most in fashion.
Nor is any thing more pertinent to the design of the discourse intended
concerning God's temple ; which, importing worship to be done to him,
requires, first, a belief that he is.
And surely the [El] inscribed of old, as Plutarch tells us, on the Del-
phic Temple; signifying, (as, after divers other conjectures, he con-
cludes it to do,) Thou dost exist, is an inscription much more fitly set in
view, at our entrance into the temple of the living God, whose name is,
/ AM.
Amidst the pleasant entertainments of which temple, (made more inti-
mate to you than human discourse can make it,) may you spend many
happy days in this world, as a preparative and introduction to a happier
eternity in the other. Whereto he is under many and deep obligations,
by any means, to contribute to his uttermost, who must (especially in the
offices relating to this temple) profess himself,
My honoured Lord,
Your Lordship's most humble,
Devoted Servant,
JOHN HOWE.
THE
LIVING TEMPLE,
OR
THE NOTION IMPROVED,
THAT
A GOOD MAN IS THE TEMPLE OF GOD.
PART I.
CHAP. I.
This notion common. Authorities needless. Insignificant with the
atheistical, who have made it more necessary to defend religion, and a
temple in general, than this, or that. Better defended against them
by practice and use, than argument, whereof they are incapable. Fre-
quent disputes of its principles not necessary to the practice of religion.
Some consideration of those supposed in the general notion of a temple,
pertinent, however, to this discourse.
I. TT is so well known that this notion hath long obtained in
JL the world, that we need not quote sayings to avouch it ;
wherewith not the sacred writings only, but others, even of Pa-
gans themselves, would plentifully furnish us.
But as authorities are, in a plain case, needless to unpre-
judiced minds ; so will they be useless to the prejudiced, be
the case ever so plain. Nor is any prejudice deeper, or less
vincible, than that of profane minds against religion. With
such, it would in the present argument signify little, to tell
them what hath been said or thought before by any others.
Not because it is their general course to be so very circumspect
and "Wary, as never to approve or assent to any thing, unless
upon the clearest and most convincing demonstration : but
front their peculiar dislike of those things only, that are of
this special import and tendency. Discourse to them what you
will of a temple, and it will be nauseous and unsavoury : not
as being cross to their reason, (which Ihey are as IjLttle curious
88 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
to gratifjr as any other sort of men,) but to their ill humour,
and the disaffected temper of their mind ; whence also (though
they cannot soon or easily get that mastery over their under-
standing's herein, yet because they would fain have it so) they
do what they can to believe religion nothing else but the effect
of timorous fancy, and a temple, consequently, one of the most
idle impertinencies in the world.
To these, the discussion of the notion we have proposed to
consider, will be thought a beating the air, an endeavour to give
consistency to a shadow. And if their reason and power
could as well serve their purpose as their anger and scorn,
they would soon tear up the holy ground on which a temple is
set, and wholly subvert the sacred frame.
I speak of such as deny the existence of the ever-blessed
Deity ; or, if they are not arrived to that express and formed
misbelief, whose hearts are inclined, and ready to determine,
even against their misgiving and more suspicious minds, that
there is no God : who, if they cannot as yet believe, do wish
there were none ; and so strongly, as in a great degree to pre-
pare them for that belief : and who would fain banish him not
only out of all their thoughts, but the world too ; and to whom
it is so far from being a grateful sound, That the tabernacle of
God is with men on earth, that they grudge to allow him a
place in heaven. At least, if they are willing to admit the
existence of any God at all, do say to him, Depart from us ;
snd would have him so confined to heaven, that he and they
may have nothing to do with one another : and do therefore
rack their impious wits to serve their hypothesis either way ;
that under its [."otection they may securely indulge themselves
in a course, upon which they find the apprehension of a God,
interesting himself in human affairs, would have a very unfa-
vourable and threatening aspect.
They are therefore constrained to take great pains with them-
selves to discipline and chastise their minds and understand-
ings, to that tameness and patience, as contentedly to suffer
the razing out of their most natural impressions and sentiments.
And they reckon they have arrived to a very hcroical perfec-
tion, when they can pass a scoff upon any thing, that carries
the least signitication with it of the fear of God ; and can be
able to laugh at the weak and squeamish folly of those softer
and efFeminatc minds, that will trouble themselves with any
thoughts or cares, how to please and propitiate a Deity : and
doubt not but they have made all safe, and effectually done
their business, when they have learned to put the ignominious
4
CHAP. I. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 89
titles of frenzy, and folly, upon devotion, in whatsoever dress
or garb ; to cry canting, to any serious mention of tbe name
of God, and break a bold adventurous jest upon any the
most sacred mysteries, or decent and awful solemnities, of
religion.
II. These content not themselves to encounter this or that
se ct, but mankind ; and reckon it too mean and inglorious an
achievement, to overturn one sort of temple or another ; but
would down with them all, even to the ground.
And they are bound, in reason and justice, to pardon the
emulation which they provoke, of vying with them as to the
universality of their design ; and not to regret it, if they find
there, be any that think it their duty to wave a while serving
the temple of this or that party, as less considerable, to defend
that one wherein all men have a common interest and concern-
ment, since matters are brought to that exigency and hazard,
that it seems less necessary to contend about this or that mode
of religion, as whether there ought to be any at all. What was
said of a former age, could never better agree to any, than our
own, u that none was ever more fruitful of religions, and bar-
ren of religion or true piety." It concerns us to consider,
whether the fertility of those many doth not as well cause as
accompany a barrenness in this one. And since the iniquity of
the world hath made that too suitable, which were otherwise
unseemly in itself, to speak of a temple as a fortified place,
whose own sacredness ought ever to have been its sufficient
fortification, it is time to be aware lest our forgetful heat and
zeal in the defence of this or that out-work, do expose (not to
say betray) the main fortress to assault and danger. For it
hath long been by this means, a neglected, forsaken thing ;
and is more decayed by vacancy and disuse, than it could
ever have been by the most forcible battery ; so as even to pro-
mise the rude assailant an easy victory. Who fears to insult
over an empty, dispirited, dead religion ! which alive and
shining in its native glory, (as that temple doth, which is com-
pacted of lively stones united to the living corner stone,) bears
with it a magnificence and state that would check a profane
look, and dazzle the presumptuous eye that durst venture to
glance at it obliquely, or with disrespect. The temple of the
living God, manifestly animated by his vital presence, would
not only dismay opposition, but command veneration also ;
and be both its own ornament and defence. Nor can it be
destitute of that presence, if we ourselves render it not inhos-
pitable, and make not its proper inhabitant become a stranger
VOL. I. N
90 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART 1.
at home. If we preserve in ourselves a capacity of the divine
presence, and keep the temple of God in a posture fit to re-
ceive him, he would then no more forsake it, than the soul
would a sound and healthy body, not violated in any vital
part. But if he forsake it once, it then becomes an exposed
and despised thing. And~as the most impotent, inconsider-
able enemy can securely trample on the dead body of the
greatest hero, that alive carried awfulncss and terror in his
looks ; so is the weak-spirited atheist become as bold now, as
he was willing before, to make rude attempts upon the tem-
ple of God, when lie hath been provoked to leave it, who is
its life, strength, and.glory.
III. Therefore as they who will not be treacherous to the
interest of God and man must own an obligation and necessity
to apply themselves to the serious endeavour of restoring the
life and honour of religion ; so will the case itself be found to
point out to us the proper course in order hereto. That is,
that it must rather be endeavoured by practice, than by dis-
putation ; by contending, every one with himself, to excite
the love of God in his own breast, rather than with the profane
adversary to kindle his anger, more aiming to foment and
cherish the domestic, continual fire of God's temple and altar,
than transmit a flame into the enemies' camp. For what can
this signify ? And it seldom fails to be the event of disputing
against prejudice, (especially of disputing for the sum of
religion at once against the prepossession of a sensual profane
temper, and a violent inclination andresolvednessto be wicked,)
to beget more wrath than conviction, and sooner to incense the
impatient wretch than enlighten him. And by how much the
more cogent and enforcing reasonings are used, and the less is
left the confounded, baffled creature to say, on behalf of a
cause so equally deplorate and vile ; the more he finds him-
self concerned to fortify his obstinate will ; to supply his want
of reason with resolution ; to find out the most expedite ways
of diverting, from what he hath no mind to consider ; and to
entertain himself with the most stupifying pleasures, (which
must serve the same turn that opium is wont, to do in the case
of broken, unquiet sleep,) or whatsoever may most effectually
serve to mortify any divine principle, and destroy all sense of
God out of his soul.
And how grateful herein, and meritorious often, are the as-
sistant railleries of servile, and it maybe mercenary, wits ? How
highly will he oblige them, that can furnish out a libel against
religion, and help them with more artificial spite to blaspheme
CHAP. I. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 91
what they cannot disprove. And now shall the scurrilous
pasquil and a few bottles, work a more effectual confutation
or* religion, than all the reason and argument in the world shall
be able to countervail. This proves too often the unhappy
issue of misapplying what is most excellent in its own kind and
place, to improper and incapable subjects.
IV. And v ho sees not this to be the case with the modern
atheist, who hath been pursued with that strength and vigour
of argument, even in our days, that would have baffled per-
sons of any other temper than their own, into shame and si-
lence ? And so as no other support hath been left to irreligion,
than a senseless si upidity, an obstinate resolvedness not to con-
sider, a faculty to stifle an argument with a jest, to charm their
reason by sensual softnesses into a dead sleep ; with a strict
and circumspect care that it may never awake into any exer-
cise above the condition of dozed and half-witted persons; or
if it do, by the next debauch, presently to lay it fast again. So
that the very principle fails in this sort of men, whereto, in
reasoning, we should appeal, and apply ourselves. And it
were almost the same thing, to oiler arguments to the senseless
images, or forsaken carcasses of men. It belongs to the gran-
deur of religion to neglect the impotent assaults of these men :
as it is a piece of glorjr, and bespeaks a worthy person's right
understanding, and just value of himself, to disdain the com-
bat with an incompetent or a foiled enemy. It is becoming
and seemly, that the grand, ancient, and received truth, which
tends to, and is the reason of the godly life, do sometimes keep
state ; and no more descend to perpetual, repeated j anglings
with every scurrilous and impertinent trirler, than a great and
redoubted prince would think it fit to dispute the rights of his
crown, with a drunken, distracted fool, or a mad-man.
Men of atheistical persuasions having abandoned their rea-
son, need what will more powerfully strike their sense —
storms and whirlwinds, flames and thunderbolts ; things not
so apt immediately to work upon their understanding, as their
fear, and that will astonish, that they may convince, ihat the
great God makes himself known by the judgments which he
executes. Stripes are for the back of fools (as they are justly
styled, that say in their hearts, There is no God). But if it
may be hoped any gentler method may prove effectual with
any of them, we are rather to expect the good effect from the
steady, uniform course of their actions and conversation, who
profess reverence and devotedness to an eternal Being ; and the
correspondence of their way, to their avowed principle, that
£2 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
acts them on agreeably to itself, and may also incur the sense
of the beholder, and gradually invite and draw his observation ;
than from the most severe and necessitating argumentation that
exacts a sudden assent.
V. At least, in a matter of so clear and commanding evi-
dence, reasoning many times looks like trifling ; and out of a
hearty concernedne&s and jealousy for the honour of religion,
one ■vvoukl rather it should march on with an heroical neglect
of bold and malapert cavillers, and only demonstrate and re-
commend itself by its own vigorous, comely, coherent course,
than make itself cheap by discussing at every turn its prin-
ciples : as that philosopher who thought it the fittest way to
confute the sophisms against motion, only by walking.
But we have nothing so considerable objected against prac-
tical religion, as well to deserve the name of a sophism ; at
least, no sophism so perplexing in the case of religious, as of
natural motion ; jeers and sarcasms are the most weighty, con-
vincing arguments : and let the deplorate crew mock on.
There are those in ihc world, that will think they have how-
ever, reason enough to persist in the way of godliness ; and
that have already laid the foundation of that reverence which
they bear to a Deity, more strongly than to be shaken and beaten
off from it by a jest : and therefore will not think it necessary
to have the principles of their religion vindicated afresh, every
time they are called to i he practice of it. For sure! y they would
be religious upon very uncertain terms, that will think them-
selves concerned to suspend or discontinue their course as often
as they are encountered in it with a, wry mouth or a distorted
look ; or that are apt to be put out of conceit with their re-
ligion by the laughter of a fool ; or by their cavils and taunts
against the rules and principles of it, whom only their own
sensual temper, and impatience of serious thoug ts, have made
willing to have them false. That any indeed should commence
religious, and persist with blind zeal in this or that discrimi-
nating profession, without ever considering why they should do
so, is unmanly and absurd ; especially when a gross ignorance
of the true reasons and grounds of religion shall beshadowed
over with a pretended awe and scrupulousness to inquire about
things so sacred. And an inquisitive temper shall have an ill
character put upon it, as if rational and profane were words
of the same signification. Or, as if reason and judgment were
utterly execrated, and an unaccountable, enthusiastic fury,
baptized and hallowed, were the only principle of religion.
But when the matter hath undergone already, a severe inquisi-
CHAP. I. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 93
tion, ajid been searched to the bottom ; when principles have
been examined ; when the strength and firmness of its deepest,
and most fundamental grounds have been tried, and an approving
judgment been past in the case, and a resolution thereupon
taken up, of a suitable and correspondent practice ; it were
a vain and unwarrantable curiosity, after all this, to be per-
petually perplexing one's easy path with new and suspicious re-
searches into the most acknowledged things. Nor were this
course a little prejudicial to the design and end of religion, (if
we will allow it any at all,) the refining of our minds, and the
fitting us for a happy eternity. For when shall that building
be finished, the foundations whereof must be every day torn
up anew, upon pretence of further caution, and for more di-
ligent search ? Or when will he reach his journey's end, that is
continually vexed (and often occasioned to go back from whence
he came) by causeless anxieties about his way ; and whether
ever he began a right course, yea or no ?
Many go securely on in a course most ignominiously wicked
and vile, without ever debating the matter with themselves,
or inquiring if there be any rational principle to justify or bear
thorn cut. Much more may they, with a cheerful confidence
persist in their well-chosen way, that have once settled their
resolutions about it upon firm and assured grounds and princi-
ples, without running over the same course of reasonings with
themselves in reference to each single, devotional act ; or
thinking it necessary every time they are to pray, to have it
proved to them, that there is a God. But many of these do
need excitation ; and though they are not destitute of pious
sentiments and inclinations, and have somewhat in them of the
ancient foundations and frame of a temple, have yet, by neg-
lect, suffered it to grow into decay. It is therefore the princi-
pal intendment of this discourse, not to assert the principles of
religion against those with whom they have no place, but to
propound what may some way tend to reinforce and strengthen
them, where they visibly languish; and awaken such as pro-
fess a devotedness to God, to the speedy and vigorous endeavour
of repairing the ruins of his temple in their own breasts ; that
they may thence hold forth a visible representation of an in-
dwelling Deity, in effects and actions of life worthy of such a
presence, and render his enshrined glory, transparent to the
view and conviction of the irreligious and profane. Which
hath more of hope in it, and is likely to be to better purpose,
than disputing with them that more know how to jest, than rea-
91 THP: LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
son ; and better understand the relishes or meat and drink, than
the strength of an argument.
VI. But though it would be both an ungrateful and insig-
nificant labour, and as talking to the wind, to discourse of re-
ligion, with persons that have abjured all seriousness, and that
cannot endure to think ; and would be like fighting with a
storm, to contend against the blasphemy and outrage of inso-
lent mockers at Avbatever is sacred and divine ; and were too
much a debasing of religion, to retort sarcasms with men not
capable of being talked with in any other than such (that is,
their own ) language : yet it wants neither its use nor pleasure,
to the most composed minds, and that are most exempt from
wavering herein, to view the frame of their religion, as it
aptly and even naturally rises and grows up from its very foun-
dations ; and to contemplate its first principles, which they
may in the mean time find no present iWAse or inclination to
dispute. They will know how to consider its most fundamen-
tal grounds, not with doubt or suspicion, but with admiration
and delight ;. and can with a calm and silent pleasure enjoy
the repose and rest of a quiet and well-assured mind, rejoicing
and contented to know to themselves, (when others refuse to
partake with them in this joy,) and feel all firm and stable under
them, whereupon either the practice or the hopes of their religion
do depend.
And there maybe also many others of good and pious incli-
nations, that have never yet applied themselves to consider the
principal and most fundamental grounds of religion, so as to be
able to give, or discern, any tolerable reason of them. For
either the sluggishness of their own temper may have indisposed
them to any more painful and laborious exercise of their minds,
and made tliem to be content with the easier course of taking
every thing upon trust, and imitating the example of others ;
or they have been unhappily misinformed, that {t consists not
with the reverence due to religion, to search into the grounds
of it. Yea, and may have laid this for one of its main
grounds, that no exercise of reason may have any place about
it. Or perhaps having never tried, they apprehend a greater
difficulty in coming to a clear and certain resolution herein,
ilv.in indeed there is. Now such need to be excited to set their
own thoughts to work this way, and to be assisted herein.
They should therefore consider who gave them the under-
standings which they fear to use. And can they use them to
better purpose, or with more gratitude to him who made them
CHAP. I. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 63
intelligent, and not brute creatures, than in labouring to know,
that they may also by a reasonable service worship and adore
their Maker ? Are they not to use their very senses about the
matters of religion ? For the invisible things of God, even his
eternal power and Godhead, are clearly seen, &c. And their
faith comes by hearing. But what ? are these more sacred and
divine, and more akin to religion, than their reason and judg-
ment, without which also their sense. can be of no use to them
herein ? Or is it the best way of making use of what God hath
revealed of himself, by whatsoever means, not to understand
what he hath revealed ? It is most true indeed, that when we
once come clearly to be informed that God hath revealed this
or that thing, we are then readily to subject (and not oppose)
our feeble reasonings to his plain revelation. And it were a
most insolent and uncreaturely arrogance, to contend or not
yield him the cause, though things have to us seemed other-
wise. But it were as inexcusable negligence, not to make use
of our understandings to the best advantage ; that we may both
know that such a revelation is divine, and what it signifies,
after we know whence it is. And any one that considers, will
soon see it were very unseasonable, at least, to allege the writ-
ten, divine revelation, as the ground af his religion, till he
have gone lower, and fore-known some things (by and by to be
insisted on) as preparatory and fundamental to the knowledge
of this.
And because it is obvious to suppose how great an increase
of strength and vigour pious minds may receive hence, how
much it may animate them to the service of the temple, and
contribute to their more cheerful progress in a religious course ;
it will therefore not be besides our present purpose, but very
pursuant to it, to consider awhile, not in the contentious way of
brawling and captious disputation, (the noise whereof is as un-
suitable to the temple as that of axes and hammers,) but of
calm and sober discourse, the more principal and lowermost
grounds upon which the frame of religion rests, and to the sup-
posal whereof, the notion and use of any such thing as a temple
in the world, do owe themselves.
m
THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
CHAP. II.
I. The two more principal grounds which a temple supposes. First, The
existence of God. Secondly, His conversableness with men: both
argued from c ommo n consejit. Doubtful if the first were ever wholly
denied in former days. The second also implied, First, In the known
general practice of some or other religion. Evidenced, Secondly, In
that some, no strangers to the world, have thought it the difference of
man. II. The immodesty and rashness of the persons from whom any
opposition can be expected. III. These two grounds, namely, the ex-
istence of God, and his conversableness with men, proposed to be more
strictly considered apart. And, FIRST, The existence of God, where the
notion oi God is assigned. The parts whereof are proposed to be evinced
severally of some existent being. First, Eternity. Secondly, Self-origina-
tion, Thirdly, Independency. Fourthly, Necessity of existence. Fifthly,
Self-activity. (The impossibility that this world should be this neces-
sary self-active being. The inconsistency of necessary alterable matter,
more largely deduced in a marginal digression.) Sixthly, Life. Seventhly,
Vast and mighty power. A corollary.
1. "VTOW the grounds more necessary to be laid down, and
X ^1 which are supposed in the most general notion of a
temple, are especially these two ; The existence of God, and
his conversableness with men. For no notion of a temple can
more easily occur to any one's thoughts, or is more agreeable
to common acceptation, than that it is a habitation wherein
God is pleased to dwell among men.
Therefore to the designation and use of it, or (which is all
one) to the intention and exercise of religion, the belief or per-
suasion is necessary of those two things, (the same which we
find made necessary on the same account,) " That God is, and
that he is a Rewarder of them that diligently seek him ;" Heb.
11.6. as will appear when the manner and design of that his
abode with men shall be considered.
These are the grounds upon which the sacred frame of a
temple ought to stand, and without which it must be acknow-
ledged an unsupported, airy fabric. And since it were vain
to discourse what a temple is, or whereto the notion of it may
be applied, unless it be well resolved that there is, or ought to
be, any such thing. The strength and firmness of this its double
ground should be tried and searched, and of its pretensions
thereto.
And though it be not. necessary in a matter that is so plain,
and wherein so much is to be said otherwise ; yet it will not be
impertinent to consider, here, what prescription (which in cleai-
2
CHAP. IT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 97
ing of titles is wont to signify nothing) will signify in the present
case. And,
First, For the existence of God, we need not labour much
to shew how constantly and generally it hath been acknowledged
through the whole world ; it being so difficult to produce an
uncontroverted instance, of any that ever denied it in more
ancient times. For as for them whose names have been in-
famous amongst* men heretofore upon that account, there hath
been that said, that at least wants not probability for the clear-
ing them of so foul an imputation. That is, that they were
maliciously represented as having denied the existence of a
Deity, because Vaey impugned and derided the vulgar conceits
and poetical fictions of those days, concerning the multitude
and the ridiculous attributes of their imaginary Deities 1 . Of
which sort Cicero f mentions not a few ; their being inflamed
with anger, and mad with lust ; their Avars, fights ; wounds ;
their hatreds, discords ; their births and deaths, &c. : who
though he speaks less favourably of some of these men, and
mentions one^: as doubting whether there were any gods or no,
(for which cause his book in the beginning whereof he had in-
timated that doubt, (as Cotta is brought in, informing us,) was
publicly burnt at Athens, and himself banished his country,)
and two others § as expressly denying them ; yet the more ge-
nerally decried patron || of atheism (as he hath been accounted)
he makes Velleius highly vindicate from this imputation, and
say of him, that he was the first that took notice that even na-
ture itself had impressed the notion of God upon the minds of
all men : who also gives us these as his words ; (l What nation
is there or sort of men that hath not, without teaching, a
certain anticipation of the gods, which he calls a prolepsis, a
certain preventive, or fore-conceived information of a thing in
the mind, without which nothing can be understood, or sought,
or disputed of?" Unto which purpose the same author H (as is
commonly observed) elsewhere speaks ; that there is no nation
so barbarous, no one of all men so savage, as that some appre-
hension of the gods hath not tinctured his mind ; that many
* Parker Tentamen. + De tiatura Deorum, liber 1.
X Protagoras Abderites.
§ Diagoras and Theodoras Cyrenaicus, who (as Diogenes Laertius, in
Aristipides, reports) was surnamed aS £ ^, afterwards &©,.
|| Epicurus, whom also his own Epistle to Menaeceus in Diogenes Laer-
tius acquits of atheism, but not of irreligion ; as hereafter may be ob-
served.
^[ Cicero, Tusculan Questions, 1. 1.
vol. i. a
9P> THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
do think indeed corruptly of them, which is (saith he) the ef-
fect of vicious custom ; but all do believe there is a divine
power and nature. Nor (as he there proceeds) hath men's
talking and agreeing together effected this. It is not an opinion
settled in men's minds by public constitutions and sanctions ;
but in every matter the consent of all nations is to be reckoned a
law of nature.
And whatever the apprehensions of those few (and some
others that are wont to be mentioned' under the same vile cha-
racter) were in this matter, yet so inconsiderable hath the dis-
sent been, that as another most ingenious pagan author*
writes, " In so great a contention and variety of opinons, (that
is, concerning what God is,) herein you shall see the opoipum
voiA.ov x«i xiyov — law and reason of every country to be harmonious
and one ; that there is one God, the King and Father of all ;
that the many are but the servants and oW^ovtej &« — co-rulcrs
unto God; that herein the Greek and the Barbarian say the
same thing, the islander and the inhabitant of the continent,
the wise and the foolish : go to the utmost bounds of the ocean,
and you find God there. Bnt if (says he) in all tunes, there
have been two or three j aSsov >£, r«7rmov, k, a-vxto-Ses yivos — an atheist-
ical, vile, senseless sort of persons, whose own eyes and ears
deceive them, and who are maimed in their very soul, an ir-
rational and steril sort, as monstrous creatures, as a lion with-
out courage, an ox without horns, or a bird without wings ;
yet, out of those, you shall understand somewhat of God :
for they know and confess him, whether they will or no."
Secondly, His conversableness with men, as well as his
existence, is first implied in the use of a temple, and the exer-
cise of religion, which have been so common, (though not
altogether equally common with the former,) that it is the obser-
vation of that famed moralist, t " That if one travel the world,
it is possible to find cities without walls, without letters, without
kings, without wealth, without coin, without schools and thea-
tres. But a city without a temple, or that useth no worship,
prayers, &c. no one ever saw. And he believes a city may
more easily be built II^hs yaps — without a foundation , or ground
to set it on, than any community of men have or keep a consist-
ency without religion.
And, secondly, it is no mean argument of the commonness of
religion, that there have been some in the world, and those no
idiots neither, that have accounted it the most constituent and
* Maxim us Tyrius dissertationes I. t Plutarch adversus Colotcm.
CHAP. II. THE LIVING TEMPLE. . 99
distinguishing thing in human nature. So that Platonic Jew *
judgeth invocation " of God, with hope towards him, to be, if
we will speak the truth, the only genuine property of man, and
saith that only he who is acted by such a hope, is a man, and
he that is destitute of this hope, is no niton ; f preferring this
account to the common definition, (which he says is only of the
concrete of man,) that he is a reasonable, and mortal, living
crrature. And yet he extends not reason further, that is, to
the inferior creatures ; for he had expressly said above,
" That they who have no hope towards God, have no part or
share in the rational nature." And a noble person % of our
own says, " That upon accurate search, religion and faith ap-
pear the only ultimate differences of man ; whereof neither
divine perfection is capable, nor brutal imperfection /' rea-
son, in his account, descending low among the inferior crea-
tures. But these agreeing more peculiarly to man, and so uni-
versally, that he affirms, 6i . There is no man well and entirely
in his wits, that doth not worship some Deity." Who there-
fore accounted it a less absurdity to admit such a thing as
a rational beast, than an irreligious man. Now if these have
taken notice of any instances that seemed to claim an exemp-
tion from this notion of man, they have rather thought fit to
let them pass as an anomalous sort of creatures, reducible to
no certain rank or order in the creation, than that any should
be admitted into the account, or be acknowledged of the so-
ciety, of men, that were found destitute of an inclination to
worship the common Author of our beings. And according
to this opinion, by whatsoever steps any should advance in the
denial of a Deity, they should proceed by the same, fo the
abandoning their own humanity ; and by saying there is no God,
.should proclaim themselves no men.
However, it discovers (which is all that is at present intended
by it) the commonness, not to say absolute universality of
religion, in the observation of these persons, whom we must
suppose no strangers to the world, in their own and former
times. And if it afford any less ground for such an obser-
vation in our present time, we only see that as the world grows
older it grows worse, and sinks info a deeper oblivion of its
original, as it recedes further from if.
And (notwithstanding) this so common a consent is yet not
* Philo. Ubr. dc eo quod deterius potion insid.
t /aov©- EveXirts, avS/3w7r@- — o St-o^Xm? an affair©'..
X Herbert de vcritate.
100 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
without its weight and significancy to our present purpose ; if
we consider how impossible it is to give or imagine any tole-
rable account of its original, if we do not confess it natural,
and refer it to that common Author of all nature whom we are
inquiring about : of which so much is said by divers others,*
that nothing more needs here to be said about it.
II. And at least so much is gained by it to a temple, that
unless some very plain and ungalnsayable demonstration be
brought against the grounds of it, (which will be time enough
to consider when we see it pretended to,) no opposition, fit to
be regarded, can ever be made to it. That is, none at all can
possibly be made, but what shall proceed from the most im-
modest and rash confidence, animated and borne up only by a
design of being most licentiously wicked, and of making the
world become so. Immodest confidence it must be, for it is
not a man, or a nation, or an age, that such have to oppose,
but mankind ; upon which they shall cast, not some lighter
reflection, but the vilest and most opprobrious contumely and
scorn that can be imagined. That is, the imputation of so
egregious folly and dotage, as all this while to have wor-
shipped a shadow, as the author of their being ; and a figment,
for their common 'parent. And this not the ruder only, and
uninquisitive vulgar, but the wisest and most considering per-
sons in all times. Surely less than clear and pregnant demon-
stration (at least not wild, incoherent, Self- confounding sup-
positions and surmises, of which more hereafter) will never be
thought sufficient to justify the boldness of an attempt that
shall carry this signification with it. And it will be a confi-
dence equally rash, as immodest. For what can be the under-
takers' hope, either of success or reward ? Do they think it
an easy enterprise, and that a few quirks of malapert wit will
serve the turn to baffle the Deity into nothing, and unfeach
the world religion, and raze out impressions renewed and
transmitted through so many ages, and persuade the race of
men to descend a peg lower, and believe they ought to live,
and shall die, like the perishing beast ? Or, do they ex-
pect to find men indifferent in a matter that concerns their
common practice and hope, and wherein their zeal hath been
wont to be such as that it hath obtained to be proverbial, to
* See. Cicero in sundry places. Grotius de veritate Christianw Relifiionis.
Du P leasts, same subject and title. Calvin s Institutes. Episcopius his
Ins titntiones Theologies, who bath written nervously on this subject ; with
many more : but especially Dr. Stillingfieet, in his Qrig, Sacr.
CHAP. II. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 101
strive as for the very altars ? And what should their
reward be, when the natural tendency of their undertak-
ing is to exclude themselves from the expectation of any in
another world ? And what will they expect in this, from them
whose temples and altars they go about to subvert ? • Besides,
that if they be not hurried by a blind impetuous rashness,
they would consider their danger, and apprehend themselves
concerned to strike very sure. For if there remain but the
least possibility that the matter is otherwise, and that the being
doth exist, whose honour and worship they contend against,
they must understand his favour to be 'of some concernment to
them ; which they take but an ill course to entitle themselves
-unto. Much more have they reason to be solicitous, when
their horrid cause not only Wants evidence, nor hath hitherto
pretended to more than a bare possibility of truth on their side,
but hath so clear (and as vet altogether unrefutc-d) evidence
lying against it, that quite takes away that very possibility,
and all ground for that miserable languishing hope, that it
could ever have afforded them. Therefore is it left also
wholly unimaginable, what principle can animate their design,
other than a sensual humour, impatient of restraints, or of any
obligation to be sober, just, and honest, beyond what their
own inclination, and much-mistaken interest or conveniency,
would load them to.
By all which we have a sufficient measure of the persons
from whom any opposition unto religion can be expected, and
how much their authority, their example; or (heir scorn, ought
to signify with us. And that a more valuable opposition can
never be made, our experience, both that hitherto it hath not
been, and that it would have been if it could, might render us
tolerably secure. For surely it may well be supposed, tluit in
a world so many ages Idst in wickedness, all imaginable trials
would have been made to dishnrthen it of religion ; and some-
what that had been specious at least, to that purpose, had been
hit upon, if the matter had been any way possible. And the
more wicked the world hath been, so directly contrary and so
continually assaulted a principle, not yet vanquished, appears
the more plainly invincible. And that the assaults have been
from the lusts of men, rather than their reason, shews the more
evidently, that their reason hath only wanted a ground to work
upon, which if it could have been found, their lusts had cer-
tainly pressed it to their service in this warfare, and not have
endured, rather, the molestation of continual checks and re-
bukes from it.
102 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
Nor need we yet told our minds hang* in suspense, or be in
a dubious expectation, that possibly some or-other great wit
may arise, that shall perform some great thing- in this matter,
and discover the groundlessness and folly of religion, by plain
and undeniable reasons that have not as yet been thought on ;
but betake ourselves to a stricter and closer consideration of our
own grounds, which if we can once find to be certainly true,
we may be sure they are of eternal truth, and no possible con-
trivance or device can ever make them false.
III. Having therefore seen what common consent may con-
tribute to the establishing of them jointly ; we may now apply
ourselves to consider and search into each of them (so far as
they are capable of a distinct consideration) severally and apart.
Having still this mark in our eye, our own confirmation and
excitation in reference to what is the proper work and business
of a temple, religion and conversation with God : how little
soever any endeavour in this kind may be apt to signify with
the otherwise minded.
FIRST, And for the existence of God ; that we may regu-
larly and with evidence make it out to ourselves, that he is, or
doth exist, and may withal see what the belief of his existence
will contribute towards the evincing of the reasonableness of
erecting a temple to him, it is requisite, before we evince the
several parts of some existent being, that we settle a true notion
of him in our minds ; or be at an agreement with ourselves,
what it is that we mean, or would have to be signified by the
name of God : otherwise we know not what we seek, nor when
we have found him.
And though we must beforehand professedly avow, that we
take him to be such a one as we can never comprehend in
onr thoughts ; that this knowledge is too excellent for us, or
he is more excellent than that we can perfectly know him ; yet
it will be sufficient to guide us in our search after his existence,
if we can give such a description, or assign such certain clia-
rjaclers of his being, as will severally or together distinguish
him from all things else. For then we shall be able to call
him by his own name, and say, This is God ; whatever his
being -may contain' more j or whatsoever other properties may
belong to it, beyond what we can as yet compass in our present
thoughts of him.
And sucJ) an account we shall have of what we are
inquiring after, if we have the conception in our minds of an
eternal, uncaused, independent, neccsssary Being, that hath
active power, life, wisdom, goodness, and whatsoever other
CHAP. IT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 103
supposable excellency, in the highest perfection originally, in
and of itself.
Such a Being we would with common consent express by the
name of God. Even they that would profess to deny or doubt
of his existence, yet must acknowledge this to be the notion of
that which they deny or doubt of. Or if they should say this
is not it, or (which is all one) that they do not deny or doubt
of the existence of such a Being as this ; they on the other
hand that would argue for his existence, may conclude the
cause is yielded them ; this being that, which they designed
to contend for.
It must indeed be acknowledged, that some things belonging
to the notion of God might have been more expressly named.
But it was not necessary they should, being sufficiently included
here, as will afterwards appear : nor perhaps so convenient ;
some things, the express mention whereof is omitted, being
such as more captious persons might be apt at first to startle at ;
who yet may possibly, as they are insinuated under other
expressions, become by degrees more inclinable to receive
them afterwards. And if this be not a full and adequate notion y
(as who can ever tell when we have an express, distinct, parti-
cular notion of God, which we are sure is adequate and full ?)
it may however suffice, that it is a trite one, as far as it goes,
and such as cannot be mistaken for the notion of any thing else.
And it will be more especially sufficient to our present purpose,
if enough be comprehended in it to recommend him to us as a
fit and worthy object of religion ; and whereto a temple ought
to be designed, as it will appear there is, when also we shall
have added what is intended, concerning his conversableness
with men. The ground whereof is also in great part included
in this account of him ; so that the consideration of it cannot
be wholly severed from that of his existence ; as hath been inti-
mated above. That is, that if such a Being exist, unto Avhich
this notion belongs, it will sufficiently appear, he is such as
that he can converse with men, though it doth not thence cer-
tainly follow that he will. For it were a rash and bold adven-
ture, to say he could not be God, if he did not condescend to
such terms of reconciliation and converse with apostate crea-
tures. Whereof, therefore, more is to be said, than the mere
manifesting his existence, in its own place.
And as to this, we shall endeavour to proceed gradually, and
in the most familiar and intelligible way we can.
I am not unapprehensive that I might here indeed, follow-
ing great examples, have proceeded in another method than
104; THE LIVING TEMPLE. PABT I.
that which I now choose ,And because we Can have no true,
appropriate, or distinguishing idea or conception of Deity,
which doth not include necessity of existence in it, have gone
that shorter way, immediately to have concluded the existence
of God, from liis ilea itself. And I see not, but treading.ihose
wary steps which the incomparable Dr. Cudworth (in his In-
tel!. System.) hath done, that argument admits, in spite of
cavil, of being managed with demonstrative evidence. Yet
since some most pertinaciously insist that it is at the bottom,
]but a mere sophism ; therefore (without detracting anything
from the force of it as it sjtahds in that excellent work, and the
writings of some other noted authors) 1 have chosen to go this
other way, as plainer and less liable to exception, though fur-
ther about. And beginning lower, to evince from the certain
present existence of tilings not existing necessarily, or of
themselves, their manifest dependence on what doth exist ne-
cessarily prof itself; and how manifestly impossible it was
that any tiling should exist now, or hereafter to all eternity, if
somewhat had not existed necessarily and of itself, from all
eternity. And I trust that not only tins will appear with com-
petent evidence in the sequel of this discourse, but also that this
necessary self-existent Being, is God, a Being absolutely per-
fect, such to whom U\c rest of his idea must belong ; and to
whom religion or the honour of a temple is due.
And because that was the point at which this discourse prin-
cipally aims, and wherein it finally terminates, not merely the
discovering of atheism, but irreligion ; (from an apprehension
that as to use and practice, it was all one to acknowledge no
God at all, as only such, a one to whom no temple or religion
could belong:) it was besides my purpose, to consider the seve-
ral forms or sq%ejne?o$ atheism, tfyatbave been devised in any
age, as t}v.)i exceJlenj person hath dime ; and enough for my
purpose, to refute the Epicurean atheism, or theism, (it is
indifferent which you call it.) because thatsect rnaster while he
was liberal in granting there were deities, yet was so impious as
to deny worship to airy, accounting they were such, as between
whom and man there could be do conversation ; on their party
by providence, or on man\-, by religion. Therefore, if we
shall have made it evident in the issue, that God is, and is
conversable with men, both the Epicurean atheism vanishes
from off the stage, and with it all atheism besides, and irre-
ligion.
We therefore begin with God's existence. For the evincing
whereof we may be most assured, First, That there hath been
4
CHAP. TT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. I0£)
somewhat or other from all eternity, or that looking back-
ward, somewhat of real being must be confessed eternal.
Let such as' have not been used to think of any thing 1 more
than what they could see with their eyes, and to whom reason-
ing only seems difficult, because they harve not tried what tliey
can do in it, but use their thoughts a little, 8i;d by moving
them a few easy steps, they will soon find themselves as sure
of this, as that they see, or hear, or understand, or are any
thing.
For being sure that something now is, (that you see, for in-
stance, or are something,) you must then acknowledge, that
certainly either something always was, and hath ever been, or
been from all eternity ; or else you must say, that sometime,
nothing was; or that all being once was not. And so, since
you find that something now is, that there was a time when
any thing of being did begin to be, that is, that till that time,
there was nothing ; but now, at that time, somewhat first be-
gan to be. For what can be plainer than that, if all being
sometime was not, and now some being is, every thing of being
had a beginning ? And thence it would follow that, some be-
ing, that is, the first that ever began to be, did of itself start
up out of nothing, or made itself to be, when before, nothing
was.
But now, do you not plainly see that it is altogether impos-
sible any thing should do so ; that is, when it was as yet no*
thing, and when nothing at all as yet was, that it should make
itself, or come into being of itself ? For surely making itself
is doing something. But can that which is nothing do any
thing ? Unto all doing there must be some doer. Wherefore
a thing must be, before it can do any thing ; and therefore it
would follow that it was before it was ; or was and was not,
was something and nothing, at the same time. Yea, and it
was diverse from itself. For a cause must be a distinct thing
from that which is caused by it. Wherefore it is most
apparent that some being hath ever been, or did never begin
to be.
Whence further, it is also evident, Secpndl?/ ', That some being
was uncaused, or was ever of itself withouT any cause. For
what never was from another had never any cause, since nothing
could be its own cause. And somewhat, as appears from v. ■■hat
hath been said, never was from another. Or it may be plainly
argued thus ; that either some being was uncaused, or all being
was caused . But if all being were caused, then some one at least ,
was the cause of itself: which hath been already shewn impos-
VOL. i. v
106 the living TE:.:rLE. Part i.
siblc. Therefore the expression commonly used concerning
the first Being that it was of itself, is only to be taken nega-
tively, that is, that it was not of another, not positively, as if
it did sometime make itself. Or, what there is positive, sig-
nified by that, form of speech, is only to be taken thus, that it
was a being of that nature, as that it was impossible it should
ever not have been* Not that it did ever of itself, step out of
not being into being '. of which more hereafter.
And now it is hence further evident, Thirdly, That some being
is independent upon any other, that is, whereas it already ap-
pears that some being did never depend on my other, as a pro-
ductive cause : or was not beholden to any other, that it might
come into being. Jt is thereupon equally evident that it is sim-
ply independent, or cannot be beholden to any for its conti-
nued being. For what did never need a productive cause,
doth as little need a sustaining or conserving cause. And to
n>ake this more plain, either some being is independent, or all
being is dependent. But there is nothing without the compass of
all being, whereon it may depend. V- Therefore to say, that all
being doth depend, is to say it depends on nothing, that is,
that it depends not. For to depend on nothing, is not to de-
pend. It is therefore a manifest contradiction, to say that all be-
ing doth depend : against which it is no relief to say, that all
beings do circularly depend on one another. For so, however,
the whole circle or sphere of being should depend on nothing,
or one at last depend on itself; which negatively taken, as be-
fore, is true, and the thing we contend for ; that One, the
common support of all the rest, depends not on any thing
without itself.
Whence also it is plainly consequent, Fourthly, That such
a Being is necessary, or doth necessarily exist : that is, that
it is of such a nature as that it could not, or cannot but be.
For what is in being neither by its own choice, or any other's,
is necessarily. But what was not made by itself (which hath
been shewn impossible that any thing should) nor by any other,
(as it hath been proved something was not,) it is manifest, it
neither depended on its own choice, nor any other's that it is.
And therefore its existence is not owing to choice at all, but to
the necessity of its own nature. Wherefore it is always by
a simple, absolute, natural necessity ; being of such a nature,
to which it is altogether repugnant, and impossible ever not
to have been, or ever to cease from being. And now having
gone thus far, and being assured that hitherto we feel the ground
Jinn under us ; that is. having gained a full certainty that there
4
CHAP. II. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 107
is an eternal, uncaused, independent, necessary Being, and
therefore actually and everlastingly existing ; we may advance
one step further;
And with equal assurance add, Fifthly, That, this eternal,
independent, uncaused, necessary Being-, is self-active, that
is, (which is at present meant,) not such as acts upon itself,
but that hath the power of acting upon other tilings, in and of
itself, without deriving it from any other. Or at least that
there is such a Being as is eternal, uncaused, &c. having the
power of action in and of itself. For either such a Being as
hath been already evinced is of itself active, or unactive, or
either hath the power of action of itself, or not. If we will
say the latter, let it be considered what we say, and to what
purpose we say it.
1. We are to weigh what it is we affirm, when we speak of
an eternal, uncaused, independent, necessary Being, that is of
itself totally unactiye, or destitute of any active power. If Ave
will say there is some such thing, we will confess, when Ave
have called it something, it is a very silly, despicable, idle
something, and a something (if Ave look upon it alone) as good
as nothing. For there is but little odds betAveen being nothing,
and being able to do nothing. AVe Avill again confess, eternity,
self-origination, independency, necessity of existence, to be
very great and highly dignifying attributes : and that import a
most inconceivable excellency. For what higher glory can Ave
ascribe to any being, than to acknoAvledge it to have been from
eternity of itself,* Avifhout being beholden to any other, and
to be such as that it can be, and cannot but be in the same state,
self-subsisting, and self-sufficient to all eternity 'I And Avliat
* We will acknowledgean impropriety in this word, and its conjugate,
self-originate, sometimes hereafter used: which yet is recompensed by
their conveniency; as they may perhaps find who shall make trial how to
express the sense intended by them in other words. And they are used
without suspicion, that it can be thought they are meant to signify as if
ever God gave original to himself; but in the negative sense, that he
never received it from any other- yea, and that he is, what is more than
equivalent to his being, self caused; namely, a Being of himself so ex-
cellent as not to need or be capable to admit any cause. Vid. c. 4. Sect.
3. And with the expectation of the same allowance which hath been
given to avlxlrios, or other like words. We also take it for granted,
(which it may suffice to hint here once for all,) that when we use here the
word self-subsisfe7}t, it will be understood we intend by it, (without logi-
cal or metaphysical nicety,) not the mere exclusion of dependence on a
subject, but on a cause.
108 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
inconceivable myriads of little senseless deities must we upon
that supposition admit ! (as would appear if it were fit to trou-
ble the reader with an explication of the nature and true notion
of matter, which the being now supposed, must be found to
be !) but what can our reason either direct or endure, that we
should so incongruously misplace so magnificent attributes as
these, and ascribe the prime glory of the most excellent
Being, unto that which is next to nothing ? What might
further be said to demonstrate the impossibility of a self-sub-
sisting and self-original, unactive Being, will be here unsea-
sonable and pre-occupying. But if any in the mean time will
be so sullen as to say such a thing, let it,
2. Be considered to what purpose they say it. Is it to
exclude a necessary self-active Being? But it can signify no-
thing to that purpose. For such a Being they will be forced
to acknowledge, let them do what they can (besides putting
out their own eyes) notwithstanding, For why will they ac-
knowledge any necessary being at all, that was ever of itself?
Is it not because they cannot, otherwise, for their hearts tell
how it was ever possible that any tiling at all could come into
being ? But finding that something is, they are compelled to
acknowledge that something hath ever been, necessarily and
of itself. No other account could be given how other tilings
came to be. But what ! doth it signify any thing towards the
giving an account of the original of all other things, to sup-
pose only an eternal, self-subsisting, unactive Being? Did
that cause other tilings to be ? Will not their own breath
choke them if they attempt to utter the self-contradicting
words, an unactive cause (that is, efficient or author) of any
thing. And do they not see they are as far from their mark ;
or do no more towards the assigning the original of all other
things, by supposing an eternal, unactive being only ; than if
they supposed none at all. That which can do nothing, can
no more be the productive cause of another, than that which
is nothing. Wherefore by the same reason tiiat hath con-
strained us to acknowledge an eternal, uncaused', independent,
necessarj' Being, we are also unavoidably led to acknowledge
this being to be self-active, or such asfiath the power of action
in and of itself; or that there is certainly such a being, that is
the cause of ail the things which our sense tells us are, besides,
existent in the Avorld.
For what else is left us to say or think? Will we
think fit to say, that all things we behold, were, as they are,
necessarily existent from all eternity ? That were to speak
flTAP. II. TUT, LTYIXG TEMPLE. 109
against our own eyes, which continually behold the rise and
fall of living things, of whatsoever sort or kind, that can come
under their notice. And it were to speak against the tiling it-
self, that we say, and to say and unsay the same thing in the
same breath. For all the things we behold are in some respect
or other (internal, or external) continually changing, and
therefore could never long be beheld as they are. And to saj
then, tli^y have been continually changing from eternity, and
yet have been necessarily, is unintelligible, and flat nonsense.
For what is necessarily, is always the same ; and what is in this
or that posture necessarily, (that is, by an intrinsic, simple,
and absolute necessity, which must be here meant,) must be
ever so. Wherefore to suppose the world in this or that state
necessarily ; and yd that such a state is changeable, is an im-
possible and self-contradicting supposition. t
f And whether by the way this will not afford us (though that he none
of our present business) plain evidence that there can be no such thing
as necessary, alterable matter, may be examined by such as think fit to
give themselves the diversion. For let it be considered, if every part and
particle that makes up the matter of this universe were itself a necessary
being, and of itself from all eternity, it must have not only its simple
being, but its being such or such, of itself necessarily; or rather every
thing of it, or any way belonging to it, must be its very simple being it-
self. For whence should it receive any accession to itself, when it is sup-
posed equally independent upon its fellows, as any of them upon it? Sup-
pose then only their various intercurrent motion among themselves, requi-
site to prepare them to, and unite them in, the composition of particular
bodies, and no other change of any other individual particle needful
thereto, but only of their figure, place, and situation, till they shall come
aptly to be disposed in the now attempted composition. How is even this
change possible? For suppose one of these particles from eternity of such
or such a figure, as triangular, hooked, &c. how can it lose any thing from
itself, or sutler any alteration of its figure which essentially and necessa-
rily belonged to it from eternity ? That to which it is necessary to be such
it is impossible to it not to be such. Or suppose no alteration of figure
(which Epicurus admits not) were necessary; but of situation and motion
till it become conveniently situate. Even this change also will be simply
impossible. Because you can frame no imagination of the existence of
this or that particle, but you must suppose it in some or other ubi, or point
of space, and if it be necessarily, it is here necessarily j for what is simply
nowhere is nothing. But if it be here necessarily, (that is, in this or that
point of space, for in some or other it must be, and it cannot be here
and there at once,) it must be here eternally, and can never not be here.
Therefore we can have no, notion of necessary alterable or moveable
matter, which is not inconsistent and repugnant to itself. Therefore also
motion must proceed from an immoveable mover, as hath been (though
upon another ground) concluded of old. But how action ad extra stands
with the immutability of the Deity, must be fetched from the consider-
110 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
And to s$y any thing is changing from eternity, signifies it is
always undergoing a change which is never past over, that is,
that it is eternally unchanged, and is ever the same. For the
least imaginable degree of change is some change. What is
in any, the least respect changed, is not in every respect the
same. Suppose then any thing in this present state or posture,
and that it is eternally changing in it ; either a new state and
posture is acquired, or not. If it be, the former was tempo-
rary, and hath an end; and therefore the just and adequate
measure of it was not eternity, which hath no end ; much less
of the change of it, or the transition from the one state to the
other. But if no new state or posture be acquired, (which
any, the least gradual alteration would make,) then it is eter-
nally unchanged in any, the least degree. Therefore eternal
changing is a manifest contradiction.
But if it be said, though eternity be not the measure of one
change, it may be of infinite changes, endlessly succeeding
one another ; even this also will, be found contradictious and
impossible. .For, (not to trouble the, reader with the more in-
ation of other perfections belonging thereto. Of which metaphysicians
and- schoolmen may be consulted, discoursing at large. See Suarez. Le-
desma de divina perfection?, with many more, at leisure. Whatsoever dif-
ficulty we may apprehend in this case, or if we cannot so easily conceive
how an eternal mind foreseeing perfectly all futurity, together with an
external efficacious determination of will concerning the existence of
such and such things to such an instant or point of time, can suffice to
their production without a super-added efflux of power at that instant ;
which would seem to infer somewhat of mutation: yet as the former of
these cannot he demonstrated insufficient, (nor shall we ever reckon our-
selves pinched in this matter till we see that plainly and fully done,) so
they are very obstinately blind that cannot see upon the addition of the
latter the vast difference of these two cases, namely, the facile silent
egress of a sufficient power, in pursuance to a calm, complacential, eter-
ii.'.l purpose; for the production of this creation, by which the agent acts
not upon itself, but upon its own creature made by its own action ; and the
eternal, blind, ungoverned action of matter upon itself, by which it is
perpetually changing itself, while yet it is supposed necessarily what it was
: And how much more easily conceivable that is, than this; how
also liberty of action consists with necessity of existence, divers have
i : to which purpose somewhat not inconsiderable may be seen, Ftcin.
l;5. 2 cap. 12 deimmprtal. Sfc. But in this there can be -little pretence
to imagine a difficulty. For our own being, though not simply, yet as to
us is necessary, that is, it is imposed upon us: for we come not into being
by our own choice; and yet are conscious to ourselves of no prejudice
hereby to our liberty of acting. Yea, and not only doth the former con-
fist with this latter, but is inferred by it. Of which see Gilbeuf.de libcrlati
/>/, Sf creat; re.
CHAP. II. THE LIVING TEMPLE. Ill
tricafe controversy of the possibility or impossibility* of infinite
or eternal succession, about which they who have a mind may
consult others, *) if this signify any thing to the present pur-
pose, it must mean the infinite or eternal changes of a necessary
being. And how these very terms do clash with one another,
methinks any sound mind might apprehend at the first men-
tion of them ; and how manifestly repugnant the things are,
may be collected from what hath been said ; and especially
from what was thought more fit to be annexed m the margin.
But now since we find that the present state of things is
changeable, and actually changing, and that what is change-
able is not necessarily, and of itself: and since it is evident
that there is some necessary being ; (otherwise nothing could
ever have been, and that without action nothing could be from
it;) since also all change imports somewhat of passion, and
all passion supposes action, and all action, active power, and
active power, an original seat or subject, that is self-active,
or that hath the power of action in and of itself: (for there
could be no derivation of it from that which hath it not, and
no first derivation, but. from that which hath it originally of
itself; and a first derivation there must be, since all things that
are, or ever have been, furnished with it, and not of them-
selves, must either mediately or immediately have derived it
from that which had it of itself;) it is therefore manifest that
there is a necessary, self-active Being, the Cause and Author
of this perpetually variable state and frame of things.
And hence, since we can frame no notion of life which self-
active power doth not, at least, comprehend, (as upon trial
we shall find that we cannot,) it is consequent, Sixthly, That
this being is also originally vital, and the root of all vitality,
such as hath life in or of itself, and from whence it is propa-
gated to every other living thing, f
And so as we plainly see that this sensible world did some-
time begin to be, it is also evident that it took its beginning
* Parker Tentamen Phvsico-Theoligicum. Derodon. Philos. cont. Dr.
More's Enchirid. Metaphys.
f Which will also prove it to be a Spirit ; unto which order of beings
essential vitality, or that life be essential to them, seems as distinguishing a
property between it and a body, as any other we can fasten upon ; that is,
tbat though a body may be truly said to live, yet it lives by a life that is
accidental, and separable from it, so as that it may cease to live, and yet
be a body still ; whereas a spirit lives by its own essence ; so that it can no
more cea^e to live than to be. And as where that essence is borrowed
and derived only, as it is with ail created spirits, so its life must needs be
112 TNE LIVING TEMPLE. PAST I.
from a Being essentially vital and active, that had itself* no be-
ginning.
Nor can we make a difficulty to conclude, Seventh?//, That
tli is Being (which now we have shewn is active, and all action
implies some power) is of vast and mighty power, (we will not
say infinite, lest wc should step too far at once ; not minding now
todiscuss whether creation require infinite power,) whenwecon-
sider and contemplate the vastness of the work performed by it.
Unto which (if we were to make our estimate by nothing else)
lye must*, at least, judge this power to be proportionable. For
when onr eyes behold an effect exceeding the power of any
cause which they can behoid, our mind must step in and sup-
ply the defect of our feebler sense ; so as to make a judgment
that there is a cause we see not, equal to this effect. As when
we behold a great and magnificent fabric, and entering in we
see not the master, or any living thing, (which was Cicero's
observation * in reference to this present purpose,) besides mice
and weasels, wc will hot think that mice or weasels built it. Nor
need we in a matter so obvious, insist further. But only when
our severer reason hath made us confess, our further contempla-
tion should make us admire a power which is at once both so
apparent, and so stupendous.
Corollary. And now, from what hath been hitherto
discoursed, it seems a plain and necessary consectary, that
this world had a cause diverse from the matter whereof it is
composed.
For otherwise matter that hath been more generally taken to
be of itself altogether unactive, must be stated the only cause
and fountain of all the art ion and motion that is now to be
found in the whole universe : which is a conceit, wild and ab-
surd enough ; not only as it, opposes the common judgment of
such as have with the greatest diligence inquired info things
of this nature, but as being in itself manifestly impossible to be
true ; as would easily appear, if it were needful to press far-
therewithal: so the eternal, self-subsisting Spirit, lives necessarily, and
of itself, according as necessarily and of itself, it is, or hath its being.
Which is onlyannoted, with a design not to trouble this discourse with
any disquisition concerning the nature ?nd other properties of a spiritual
Being. Of which enough hath been, with great evidence, said, by the in-
comparable Dr. More.
* De natiiia Deorum.
CHAP. II. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 113
ther Dr. More's * reasonings to this purpose ; which he hath
done sufficiently for himself.
And also that otherwise all the great and undeniable changes
which continually happen in it must proceed from its own con-
stant and eternal action upon itself, while it is yet feigned to be
a necessary being ; with the notion whereof they are notoriously
inconsistent. Which therefore we taking to be most clear ;
may now the more securely proceed to what follows.
CHAP. III.
I. The subject continued, wherein, Eighthly, Wisdom is asserted to belong
to this Being. The production, of .this world by a mighty agent desti-
tute of wisdom impossible. On consideration of, 1. What would be
adverse to this production. 2. What would be wanting; some effects
to which a designing cau.sc will, on all hands, be confessed necessary,
having manifest characters of skill and design upon them. II. Absurd
here to except the works of nature; wherein at least equal characters of
wisdom and design are to be seen, as in any the most confessed pieces
of art, instanced in the frame and motion of heavenly bodies. Ilf. A
mean, unphilosophical temper, to be more taken with novelties, than
common things of greater importance. Further instance, in the com-
position of the bodies of animals. IV. Two contrary causes of men's
not acknowledging the wisdom of their Maker herein. V. Progress is
made from the consideration of the parts and frame, to the powers and
functions of terrestrial creatures. Growth, nutrition, propagation of
kind, spontaneous motion, sensation. VI. The pretence considered,
~? that the bodies of animals are machines. First, How improbable it is.
Secondly, How little to the purpose. VII. The powers of the human
soul. It appears, First, Notwithstanding them, it had a cause; Secondly,
By than, a wise and intelligent cause. It is not matter : that not capable
of reason. They not here reflected on who think reasonable souls made
of refined matter, by the Creator. Not being matter, nor arising from
thence, it must have a cause that is intelligent. VIII. Subjeet of the
former chapter continued, and, Ninthly, Goodness asserted to belong
to this Being.
I. r | iHE subject continued, and we therefore add, Eighthly,
J. That this Beingis wise and intelligent, as wellas powerful;
upon the very view of this world, it will appear so vast pow r er was
guided byequalwisdom in the framing of it. Though this is wont
to be the principal labour in evincing the existence of a Deity,
namely, the proving that this universe owes its rise to a wise and
* Both in his Immortality of the Soul; and Bnckirid. Metaphys.
YOL. 1. Q
H4 the living temple. paut i.
designing cause ; (as maybe seen in Cicero's excellent perform-
ance in this kind, and in divers later writers ;) yet the placing
so much of their endeavour herein, seems in great part to have
proceeded hence, that this hath been chosen for the great me-
dium to prove that it had a cause diverse from itself. But if
that once be done a shorter way, and it fully appear that this
world is not itself a necessary being, having the power of all
the action and motion to be found in it, of itself; (which al-
ready seems plain enough ;) and it does most evidently thence
also appear to have had a cause foreign to, or distinct from,
itself; though we shall not therefore the more carelessly con-
sider this subject ; yet no place of doubt seems to remain, but
that this was an intelligent eaifse, and that this world was the
product of wisdom and counsel, and not of mere power alone.
For what imagination can be more grossly absurd, than to sup-
pose this orderly frame of things to have been tha result of so
mighty power, not accompanied or guided by wisdom and
counsel ? that is, (as the case must now unavoidably be un-
derstood,) that there is some being necessarily existent, of an
essentially active nature, of inconceivably vast and mighty
power and vigour, destitute of all understanding and know-
ledge, and consequently of any self-moderating principle, but
acting always by the necessity of its own nature, and there-
fore to its very uttermost, that raised up all the alterable mat-
ter of the universe (to whose nature it is plainly repugnant to be
of itself, or exist necessarily) out of nothing; and by the ut-
most exertion of that ungoverned power, put all the parts and
particles of that matter into a wild hurry of impetuous motion,
by which they have been compacted and digested into parti-
cular beings, in that variety and order winch we now behold.
And surely to give this account of the world's original, is, as
Cicero speaks, not to consider, but to cast lots what to say ;
and were as mad a supposition, " as if one should suppose the
< one and twenty letters, formed (as the same author elsewhere
speaks) la great numbers, of gold, or what you please else, and
cast of any careless fashion together, and that of these loosely
shaken out upon the ground, Ennius's Annals should result, so
as to be distinctly legible as now we see them." ±Nay it were
the supposition of a thing a thousand-fold more manifestly im-
possible.
1. For before we consider the gross absurdity of such a
supposed production, that is, trial a thing should be brought
to pass by so mere a casualty, that so evidently requires an
exquisitely-formed and continued design, even though there
CLHAP. ITT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 115"
were nothing positively to resistor hinder it, let it be consider-
ed what there will be that cannot but most certainly hinder any
such production. To this purpose we are to consider, that it is
a vast power which so generally moves the diffused matter of the
universe.
Hereof make an estimate, by considering what is requisite
to the continual whirling about of such huge In Iks as this
whole ma sr-y globe of earth ; (according to some ;) or, which
is much more strange, the sun, (according to others,) with
that i: conceivably swift motion which this supposition makes
necessary, together with the other planets, and the innumerable
heavenly bodies besides, that are subject to the laws of a con-
tinual motion. Adding hereto how mighty a power it is which
must be sufficient to all the productions, motions, and actions,
of all other things.
Again, consider that all this motion, and motive power,
must have some source and fountain diverse from the dull
and sluggish matter moved thereby, unto which it already
hath appeared impossible it should originally and essentially
belong.
Next, that the might i/, aciiye Being, which hath been
proved necessarily existent, and whereto it must Jirst belong,
if we suppose it destitute of the self-moderating principle of
wisdom and counsel, cannot but be always exerting its motive
power, invariably and to the same degree : that is, to its very
utmost, &nd can never cea>e or fail to do so. For its act
knows no limit but that of its power ; (if this can have any ;)
and its power is essential to it, and its essence is necessary.
Further, that the motion impressed upon the matter of the
universe must hereupon necessarily have received a continual
increase, ever since it came into being.
That supposing this motive power to have been exerted from
eternity, it must have been increased long ago to an infinite
excess.
That hence the coalition of the particles of matter for the
forming of any thing had been altogether impossible. For let
us suppose this exerted, motive power to have been, any in-
stant, but barely sufficient for such a formation, because that
could not be dispatched in an instant, it would by its conti-
nual, momently increase, be grown so over-sufficient, as, in the
next instant, to dissipate the particles, but now beginning to
unite.
At least, it would be most apparent, that if ever such a frame
of things as we now behold could haye been produced, that
116 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
motive power, increased to so infinite an excess, must have
shattered the whole frame in pieces, many an age ago ; or rather,
never have permitted, that such a thing, as we call an age, could
possibly have been.
Our experience gives us not to observe any so destructive
or remarkable changes in the course of nature : and this (as
was long ago foretold) is the great argument of the atheistical
scoffers in these latter days, that things are as they were from
the beginning of the creation to this day. But let it be soberly
weighed, how it is possible the general consistency, which we
observe things are at throughout the universe, and their steady
orderly posfure, can stand with this momently increase of mo-
tion .
And that such an increase could not, upon the supposition
we are now opposing, but have been, is most evident. For,
not to insist that nothing of impressed motion is ever lost, but
only imparted to other things, (which, they that suppose it, do
hot therefore suppose, as if they thought, being once im-
pressed, it could continue of itself, but that there is a con-
stant, equal supply from the first mover,) Ave will admit that
there is a continual decrease, or loss, but never to the degree
of its continual increase. For we see when we throw a stone
out of our hand, whatever of the impressed force it imparts to
the air, through which it makes its way, or not being received,
vanishes of itself, it yet retains a part a considerable time, that
carries it all the length of its journey, and all does not vanish
and die away on the sudden. Therefore when we here con-
sider the continual, momently renewal of the same force, al-
ways necessarily going forth from the same mighty Agent, with-
out any moderation or restraint ; every following impetus doth
so immediately overtake the former, that whatever we can sup-
pose lost, is yet so abundantly over-supplied, that, upon the
whole, it cannot fail to be ever growing, and to have grown
to that all-de&troying excess before mentioned. Whence there-*
fore that famed restorer and improver of some principles of the
ancient philosophy, hath seen a necessity to acknowledge it,
as a manifest thing, " That God himself is the universal and
primary Cause of all the motions that are in the world, who in
the beginning created matter, together with motion and rest ;
and doth now, by his ordinary concourse only, continue so
much of motion and rest in it, as he first put into it. — For
(saith h,) we understand it as a perfection in God, not only
that he is unchangeable in himself, but that he works after a
most constant and unchangeable manner. So that, excepting*
OH A P. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 117
those changes which either evident experience or divine reve-
lation renders certain, and which we know or believe to be
without change in the Creator, we ought to suppose none in
his works, lest thereby any inconstancy should bV argued in
himself." * Whereupon he grounds the laws and rule:? con-
cerning motion, which he afterwards lays down, whereof we
referred to one, a little above.
It is therefore evident, that as without the supposiiiou of a
self-active Being there could be no such thing as motion ; so
without the supposition of an intelligent Being (that is, that
the same Being be both self-active, and intelligent) there could
be no regular motion ; such as is absolutely necessary to the
forming and continuing of any the compacted, bodily sub-
stances, which our eyes behold every day: yea, or of any
whatsoever, suppose Ave their figures, or shapes, to be as rude,
deformed, and useless, as we can imagine ; much less, such
as the exquisite compositions, and the exact order of tilings, in
the universe, do evidently require and discover.
2. And if there were no sv.ch thing carried in this sup-
position, as is positively adverse to what is supposed, so as
most certainly to hinder it, (as we see plainly there is,) yet
the mere want of what is necessary to such a production, is
enough to render it impossible, and the supposition of it absurd.
For it is not only absurd to suppose a production which some-
what shall certainly resist and hinder, but which wants a cause
to effect it : and it is not less absurd, to suppose it effected by
a manifestly insufficient and unproportionable cause, than by
none at all. For as nothing can be produced without a cause,
so no cause can work above or beyond its own capacity and
natural aptitude. Whatsoever therefore is ascribed to any
cause, above and beyond its ability, all that surplusage is as-
cribed to no cause at all : and so an effect, in that part at least,
were supposed without a cause. And if then it iollow when
an effect is produced, that it had a cause; why doth it not
equally follow, when an effect is produced, having manifest
characters of wisdom and design upon it, that it had a wise
and designing cause ? If it be said, there be some fortuitous
or casual (at least undesigned) productions, that look like the
effects of wisdom and contrivance, but indeed are not, as the
birds so orderly and seasonably making their nests, the bees
their comb, and the spider its web, which are capable of no
design ; that exception needs to be well proved before it be
* D. Cartes Princip. Philosoph. part 2.
118 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PARTI.
admitted ; and that it be plainly demonstrated, both that these
creatures are not capable of design, and that there is not a
universal, designing 1 cause, from •« hose directive as well as ope-
rative influence, no imaginable effect or event can be exempted ;
(in which case it will no more be necessary, that every crea-
ture that is observed steadily to work towards an end should
itself design and know it, than that an artificer's tools should
know what he is doing with them ; but if they do not, it is
plain he must :) and surely it lies upon them who so except, to
prove in this case what they say, and not to be so precarious
as to beg or think us so easy, as to grant so much, only because
they have thought lit to say it, or would fain have it so. That
is, that this or that strange event happened without any design-
ing cause.
II. But, however, I would demand of such as make this
exception, whether they think there be any effect at all, to
which a designing cause was necessary, or which they will-
judge impossible to have been otherwise produced, than by the
direction and contrivance of wisdom and counsel ? 1 little
doubt but there are thousands of things, laboured and wrought
fey the hand of man, concerning which they would presently,
upon first sight, pronounce they were the effects of skill, and
not of chance : yea, if they only considered their frame and
shape, though they yet understood not their use and end. They
would surely think (at least) some effects or other sufficient to
argue to us a designing cause. And would they but soberly
consider and resolve what characters or footsteps of wisdom and
design might be reckoned sufficient to put us out of doubt,
would they not, upon comparing, be brought to acknowledge
that there are nowhere anj/ more conspicuous and manifest,
than in the things daily in view, that go ordinarily, with us,
under the name of the works of nature ? Whence it is plainly
consequent, that what men commonly call universal nature, if
they would be content no longer to lurk in the darkness of an
obscure and uninterpreted word, they must confess is nothing
else but common providence, that is, the universal pozcer which
is everywhere active in the world, in conjunction with the
unerring wisdom which guides and moderates all its exertions
and operations ; or the wisdom which directs and governs that
power. Otherwise, when they see cause to acknowledge that
such an exact order and disposition of parts, in very neat and
elegant compositions, do plainly argue wisdom and skill in
the contrivance ; only they will distinguish, and say, It is so
in the effects of art, but not of nature. What is this, but to
CKAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 119
deny in particular what they granted in general ? To make
what they have said signify nothing more than if they had
said, Such exquisite order of parts is the effect of wisdom,
where it is the effect of wisdom, but it is not the effect of wis-
dom, where it is not the effect of wisdom ? And to trifle, instead
of giving a reason why things are so and so? And whence
take they their advantage for this trifling, or do hope to hide
their folly in it, but that they think, while what is meant by
art, is known, what is meant by nature, cannot be known ?
But if it be not known, how can they tell but their distinguish-
ing members are co-incident, and run info one ? Yea, and it"
they would allow the thing itself to speak, and the effect to
confess and dictate the name of its own cause, how plain is it
that they do run into one, and that the expression imports no
impropriety which we somewhere find in Cicero; The art of
nature ; or rather, that nature is nothing else but divine art, at
least in as near an analogy as there can be, between any things
divine and human ? For, that this matter (even the thing itself,
waving for the present the consideration of names) may be a.
little more narrowly discussed and searched into, let some cu-
rious piece of workmanship be offered to such a sceptic's view,
the making whereof he did not see, nor of any thing like it,
and we will suppose him not told that this was made by the
hand of any man, nor that he hath any thing to guide his
judgment about the way of its becoming what it is, but oidy
his own view of the thing itself; and yet he shall presently,
without hesitation, pronounce, This was the effect of much
skill. I would here inquire, Why do you so pronounce? Or,
What is the reason of this your judgment ? Surely he would
not say he hath no reason at all for this so confident and un-
wavering determination ; for then he would not be determined,
but .speak by chance, and be indifferent to say that, or any
thing else. Somewhat or other there must be, that, when he
is asked, Is this the effect of skill ? shall so suddenly and ir-
resistibly captivate him into an assent that it is, that he cannot
think otherwise. Nay, if a thousand men Avere asked the
same question, they would as undoubtingly say the same thing ;
and then, since there is a reason fcr this judgment, what can
be devised to be the reason, but that there are so manifest cha-
racters and evidences of skill in the composure, as are not at-
tributable to anything else ? Now here I would further de-
mand, Is there anything in this reason, yea, or no? Doth it
signify anything, or is it of any value to the purpose for which
it is alleged ? Surely it is of very great, inasmuch as,, when it
120 THE LIVING TEMPLE- PART fe
is considered, it leaves it not in a man's power to think any-
thing- else ; and what can be said more potently and efficaci-
ously to demonstrate ? But now, if this reason signify any-
thing, it sig-nilies thus much ; that wheresoever there are equal
characters, and evidences of skill, (at least where there are
equal,) a skilful agent must be acknowledged, And so it will
(in spite of cavil) conclude universally, and abstractly from
what we can suppose distinctly signified by the terms of art,
and nature, that whatsoever effect hath such, or equal charac-
ters of skill upon it, did proceed from a skilful cause. That is,
that if this effect be said to be from a skilful cause, as such,
namely, as having manifest characters of skill upon it, then,
every such effect, namely, that hath equally manifest charac-
ters of skill upon it, must be, with equal reason, concluded to
be from a skilful cause.
We will acknowledge skill to act, and wit to contrive, very
distinguishable things, and in reference to some works, (as the
making some curious automaton, or self-moving engine,) are
commonly lodged in divers subjects ; that is, the contrivance
exercises the wit and invention of one, and the making, the
manual dexterity and skill of others : but the manifest charac-
ters of both, will be seen in the effect. That is, the curious
elaborateness of each several part shews the latter, and the
order and dependence of parts, and their conspiracy to one
common end, the former. Each betokens design ; or at least
the smith or carpenter must be understood to design his own
part, that is, to do as he was directed : both together, do plain-
ly bespeak an agent, that knew what he did ; and that the
thing was not done by chance, or was not the casual product
of only being busy at random, or making a careless stir, with-
out aiming at any thing. And this, no man that is in his wits,
would j upon sight of the whole frame, more doubt to assent
unto, than that two and two make four. And he would cer-
tainly be thought mad, that should profess to think that only
by some one's making a blustering stir among several small
fragments of brass, iron, and wood, these parts happened to
be thus curiously formed, and caine together into this frame, of
their own accord.
Or lest this should be thought to intimate too rude a repre-
sentation of their conceit, who think this world to have fallen
into this frame and order, wherein it is, by the agitation of the
moving parts, or particles of matter, without the direction of a
wise mover ; and that we may also make the case as plain as
is-possible to the most ordinary capacity, we will suppose (for
instance) that one who had never before seen a watch, or any
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 121
thing of that sort, hath now this little engine first offered to his
view ; can we doubt, but he would upon the mere sight of its
figure, structure, , and the very curious workmanship which
we will suppose appearing in it, presently acknowledge the
artificer's hand ? But if he were also made to understand the
use and purpose for which it serves, and it were distinctly
shewn him how each thing contributes, and all things in this
little fabric concur to this purpose, the exact measuring and
dividing of time by minutes, hours, and months, he would
certainly both confess and praise the great ingenuity of the first
inventor. But now if a by-stander, beholding him in this ad-
miration, would undertake to shew a profounder reach and
strain of wit, and should say, — Sir, you are mistaken concern-
ing the composition of this so much admired piece ; it was
hot made or designed by the hand or skill of any one ; there
were only an innumerable company of little atoms or very
small bodies, much too small to be perceived by your sense,
that were busily frisking and plying to and fro about the
place of its nativity ; and by a strange chance (or a stranger
fate, and the necessary laws of that motion which they were
unavoidably put into, by a certain boisterous, undesigning
mover) they fell together into this small bulk, so as to compose
it into this very shape and figure, and with this same number
and order of parts which you now behold : one squadron of
these busy particles (little thinking what they were about)
agreeing to make up one wheel, and another some other, in
that proportion which you see : others of them also falling,
and becoming fixed in so happy a posture and situation, as to
describe the several figures by which the little moving fingers
point out the hour of the day, and the day of the month : and
all conspired to fall together, each into its own place, in so
lucky a juncture, as that the regular motion failed not to en-
sue which Ave see is now observed in it, — what man is either
so wise or so foolish (for it is hard to determine whether the ex-
cess or the defect should best qualify him to be of this faith) as
to be capable of being made believe this piece of natural his-
tory ? And if one should give this account of the production
of such a trifle, would he not be thought in jest? But if he
persist, and solemnly profess that thus he takes it to have been,
would he not be thought in good earnest mad ? And let but
any sober reason judge whether we have not unspeakably more
manifest madness to contend against in such as suppose this
world, and the bodies of living creatures, to have fallen into
voi . i. it
1§2 THE LIVING TEMPLE. FAIIT X,
this frame and orderly disposition of pails wherein they are,
Without the direction of a wise and designing cause ? And
whether there be not an incomparably greater number of most
wild and arbitrary suppositions in their fiction , than in this?
Besides the innumerable supposed repetitions of the same
strange chances all the world over ; even as numberless, not
only as productions, but as the changes that continually hap-
pen to all the things produced. And if the concourse of atoms
could make this world, why not (for it is but little to mention
such a thing as this) a porch, or a temple, or a house, or a
city, (as Tnlly speaks in the before recited place,) which were
lessoperous and much more easy performances ?
III. It is not to be supposed that all should be astronomers,
anatomists, or natural philosophers, that shall read these lines ;
and therefore it is intended not to insist upon particulars, and
to make as little use as is possible of terms that would only be
agreeable to that supposition. But surely such general, easy
reflections on the frame of the universe, and the order of parts
in the bodies of all sorts of living creatures, as the meanest
ordinary understanding is capable of, would soon discover in-
comparably greater evidence of wisdom and design in the con-
trivance of these, than in that of a watch or a clock. And if
there were any whose understandings are but of that size and
measure as to suppose that the whole frame of the heavens
serves to no other purpose than to be of some such use as that,
to us mortals here on earth ; if they would but allow them-
selves leisure to think and consider, might discern the most
convincing and amazing discoveries of wise contrivance and
design (as well as of vastest might and power) in disposing
things into so apt a subserviency tothat meaner end. And that
so exact a knowledge is had thereby of times and seasons, days
and years, as that the simplest idiot in a country may be able
to tell you, when the light of the sun is withdrawn from his
eyes, at what time it will return, and when it will look in at
such a window, and when at the other ; and by what degrees
his days and nights shall either increase or be diminished ; and
what proportion of time he shall have for his labours in this
season of the year, and what in that ; without the least suspicion
or fear that it shall ever fall out otherwise.
But that some in later days whose more enlarged minds
have by diligent search and artificial helps got clearer notices
(even than most of the more learned of former times) concern-
ing the true frame and vastness of the universe, the matter,
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE 123
nature, and condition of the heavenly bodies, their situation,
order, and laws of motion ; and the great probability of their
serving to nobler purposes, than the greater part of learned
men have ever dreamed of before ; that, { say, any of these
should have chosen it for the employment of their great in-
tellects, to devise ways of excluding intellectual power from
the contrivance of this frame of things, having so great advan-
tages beyond the most of mankind besides to contemplate and
adore the great Author and Lord of all, is one of the greatest
wonders that comes under our notice ; and might tempt even J"
a sober mind, to prefer vulgar and popular ignorance before
their learned, philosophical deliration.
Though j^et indeed, not their philosophy by which they
would be distinguished from the common sort, but what
they have in common with them, ought in justice to bear the
blame. For is it not evident, how much soever they reckon
themselves exalted above the vulgar sort, that their miserable
shifting in this matter proceeds only from what is most meanly
so ; that is, their labouring under the most vulgar and meanest
diseases of the mind, disregard of what is common, and an
aptness to place more in the strangeness of new, unexpected,
and surprising events, than in things unspeakably more con-
siderable, that are of every day's observation ? Than which
nothing argues a more abject, unphilosophical temper.
For let us but suppose (what no man can pretend is more
impossible, and what any man must confess is less considerable,
than what our eyes daily see) that in some part of the air near
this earth, and within such limits as that the whole scene might
be conveniently beheld at one view, there should suddenly
appear a little globe of pure naming light resembling that of
the sun ; and suppose it fixed as a centre to another body, or
moving about that other as its centre, (as this or that hypo-
thesis best pleases us,) which we could plainly perceive to be a
proportionably-little earth, beautified with little trees and
woods, flowery fields and flowing rivulets with larger
lakes into which these discharge themselves ; and suppose
we the other planets all of proportionable bigness to the
narrow limits assigned them, placed at their due distances,
and playing about this supposed earth or sun, so as to measure
their shorter and soon absolved days, months, and years, or
two, twelve, or thirty years, according to their supposed les-
ser circuits ; — would they not presently, and with great amaze-
ment confess an intelligent contriver and maker of this whole
frame, above a Posidonius or anv mortal ? And have we not
124 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART T»
in the present frame of things a demonstration of wisdom and
counsel, as far exceeding- that which is now supposed, as the
making some toy or bauble to please a child is less an argu-
ment of wisdom than the contrivance of somewhat that is of
apparent and universal use ? Or, if Ave could suppose this
present state of things to have but newly begun, and ourselves
pre-cxistent, so that we could take notice of the very passing
of things out of horrid confusion into the comely order they
are now in, would not this put the matter out of doubt ? And
that this state had once a beginning needs not be proved over
again. But might what would yesterday have been the ef-
fect of wisdom, better have been brought about by chance
five or six thousand years, or any longer time ago ? It
speaks not want of evidence in the thing, but want of con*
sideration, and of exercising our understandings, if what
were new would not only convince but astonish, and what
is old, of the same importance, doth not so much as con-
vince !
And let them that understand any thing of the compo-
sition of a human body (or indeed of any living creature) but
bethink themselves whether there be not equal contrivance at
least, appearing in the composure of that admirable fabric, as
of any the most admired machine or engine devised and made
by human wit and skill. If we pitch upon any thing of known
and common use, as suppose again a clock or watch, which
is no sooner seen than it is acknowledged (as hath been said)
the effect of a designing- cause ; will we not confess as much
of the body of a man ? Yea, what comparison is there, when
in the structure of some one single member, as a hand, a foot,
an eye, or ear, there appears upon a diligent search, unspeak-
ably greater curiosity, whether we consider the variety of parts,
their exquisite figuration, or their apt disposition to the dis-
tinct uses and ends these members serve for, than is to be seen
in any clock or watch ? Concerning which uses of the several
pails in man's body, Galen, * so largely discoursing in seven-
teen books, inserts on the by, this epiphonema, upon the
mention of one particular instance of our most wise Maker's
provident care ; " Unto whom (saith he) I compose these com-
mentaries," (meaning his present work of unfolding the useful
figuration of the human body,) " as certain hymns, or songs
of praise, esteeming true piety more to consist in this, that I
first may know, and then declare to others, his wisdom, power,,
* LU\ S, Dcu-su part, ex Lacuu. Epit,
THAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 125
providence, and goodness, than in sacrificing: to him many
hecatombs : and in the ignorance whereof there is greatest im-
piety, rather than in abstaining irom sacrifice. * Nor" (as he
adds in the close of that excellent work) " is the most perfect
natural artifice to be seen in man only ; but you may find the
like industrious design and wisdom of the Author, in any living
creature which you shall please to dissect : and by how much
the less it is, so much the greater admiration shall it raise in
you : which those artists shew, that describe some great thing
(contractedly) in a very small space : as that person (saith he)
who lately engraved Phaeton carried in his chariot with his
four horses upon a little ring — a most incredible sight ! Bat
there is nothing in matters of this nature, more strange than in
the structure of the leg of a flea." How much more might it
be said of all its inward parts ? " Therefore (as he adds) the
greatest commodity of such a work accrues not to physi-
cians, but to them who are studious of nature, namely, the
knowledge of our Maker's perfection, and that (as he had said
a little above) it establishes the principle of the most perfect
theology ; which theology (saith he) is much more excellent
than all medicine."
It were too great an undertaking, and beyond the designed
limits of this discourse, (though it would be to excellent purpose,
if it could be done without amusing terms, and in that easy,
familiar way as to be capable of common use,) to pursue and
trace distinctly the prints and footsteps of the admirable wis-
dom which appears in the structure and frame of this outer
temple. For even our bodies themselves are said to be the
temples of the Holy Ghost, 1 Cor. 6. 19. And do dwell a
while in the contemplation and discovery of those numerous
instances of most apparent, ungainsayable sagacity and provi*
dence which offer themselves to view in every part and particle
of this fabric ; how most commodiously all things are order;- d
in it ! With how strangely cautious circumspection and fore-
sight, not only destructive, but even (perpetually) vexatious
and afflicting incongruities are avoided and provided against,
to pose ourselves upon the sundry obvious questions that might
be put for the evincing of such provident foresight. As for
instance, how comes it to pass that the several parts which we
find to be double in our bodies, are not singte only ? Is this
altogether by chance ? That there are two eyes, ears^ nostrils,
hands, feet, &c. : what a miserable, shiftless creature had man
* Sub. fin. I 17.
126 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I,
been, if there had only been allowed him one foot ? A seeing,
hearing, talking, unmoving statue. That the hand is divided
into fingers ? Those so conveniently situate, one in so fitly op-
posite a posture to the rest ?
And what if some one pair or other of these parts had
been universally wanting ? The hands, the feet, the eyes, the
ears. How great a misery had it inferred upon mankind ! and
is it only a casualty that it is not so ? That the back-bone is
composed of so many joints, (twenty-four, besides those of that
which is the basis and sustainer of the whole,) and is not all of
a piece, by which stooping, or any motion of J he head or neck,
diverse from that of the whole body, had been altogether im-
possible ; that there is such variety and curiosity in the ways
of joining the bones together in that, and other parts of the
body; that in some parts, they are joined by mere adhe-
rence of one to another, * either with or without an intervening
medium, and both these ways, so diversely ; that others are
fastened together by proper jointing, so as to suit and be ac-
companied with motion, either more obscure or more manifest,
and this, either by a deeper or more superficial insertion of one
bone into another, or by a mutual insertion, and that so dif-
ferent ways ; and that all these should be so exactly accom-
modated to the several parts and uses to which they belong*
and serve : — was all this without design ? Who, that views
the curious and apt texture of the eye, can think it was not
made on purpose to see with, t and the ear, upon the like view,
for hearing, when so many things must concur that these ac-
tions might be performed by these organs, and are found to do
so ? Or who can think that the sundry little engines belonging
to the eye were not made with design to move it upwards,
downwards, to this side or that, or whirl it about as there
should be occasion : without which instruments and their ap-
pendages, no such motion could have been ? Who, that is
not stupidly perverse, can think that the sundry inward parts
(which it would require a volume distinctly to speak of, and
but to mention them aud their uses would too unproportionably
swell this part of this discourse) were not made purposely by
a designing Agent, for the ends they so aptly and constantly
serve for? The want of some one among divers whereof, or
* Bartholin. Riolanus.
t How foolish to think that art intended an end in making a window
to see through, and that nature intended none in making an eye to sea
with ; as Campanella in that rapturous discourse of his Atheismus trium-
phatus.
€HAP. Til- THE LIVING TEMPLE. 127
but a little misplacing, or if tilings had been but a little other-
wise than they are, had inferred an impossibility that such a
creature as man could have subsisted, or been propagated upon
the face of the earth. As what if there had not been such a
receptacle prepared as the stomach is, and so formed, and
placed as it is, to receive and digest necessary nutriment ?*
Had not the whole frame of man besides been in vain ? Or
what if the passage from it downward, had not been made
somewhat, a little way ascending', so as to detain a convenient
time what is received, but that what was taken iiv were suddenly
transmitted ? It is evident the whole structure had been ruin-
ed as soon as made. What (to instance in what seems so small
a matter) if that little cover bad been wanting at the entrance
of that passage through which we breathe ; (the depression
whereof by the weight of what we eat or drink, shuts it and
prevents meat and drink from going down that way :) had not
unavoidable suffocation ensued ? And who can number the
instances that might be given besides ? Now when there is a
concurrence of so many things absolutely necessary, (concern-
ing which the common saying is as applicable, more frequently
wont to be applied to matters of morality, u Goodness is from
the concurrence of all causes, evil, from any defect,") each
so aptly and opportunely serving its own proper use, raid #//,
one common end, certainly to say that so manifold, so regular
and stated a subserviency to that end, and the end itself, were
undesigned, and things casually fell out thus, is to say we know
or care not what.
We will only, before we close this consideration, concern-
ing the mere frame of a human body, (which hath been so
hastily and superficially proposed,) offer a supposition which
is no more strange (excluding the vulgar notion by which
nothing is strange, but what is not common) than the thing
itself, as it actually is ; namely, That the whole more external
covering of the body of a man were made, instead of skin and
flesh, of some very transparent substance, flexible, but clear
as very crystal ; through which, and the other more inward
{and as transparent) integuments or enfoldings, we could
^plainly perceive the situation and order of all the internal parts,
and how they each of them perform their distinct offices : if
we could discern the continual motion of the blood, howit
is conveyed, by its proper conduits, from its (y;st source and
* Non prodest cibus neque corpori accedit, qui statim suipptus emitti-
tor.. Seneca.
?28 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
fountain, partly downwards to the lower entrails, (if rather it
ascend not from thence, as at least, what afterwards becomes
blood doth,) partly upwards, to its admirable elaboratory, the
heart ; where it is refined and furnished with fresh vital
spirits, and so transmitted thence by the distinct vessels pre-
pared for this purpose : could we perceive the curious con-
trivance of those little doors, by which it is let in and out, on
this side and on that ; the order and course of i(s circulation,
its most commodious distribution by two social channels, or
conduit-pipes, that every where accompany one another
throughout the body: could we discern the curious artifice of
the brain, its ways of purgation ; and were it possible to pry
into the secret chambers and receptacles of tlie less or more
pure spirits there ; perceive their manifold conveyances, and
ihc rare texture of that net, commonly called the wonderful
one : could we behold the veins, arteries, and nerves, all of
them arising from their proper and distinct originals ; and their
orderly dispersion for the most part, by pairs and conjuga-
tions, on this side and that, from the middle of the back ; with
the. curiously wrought branches, which, supposing these to
appear duly diversified, as so many more duskish strokes in
this transparent frame, they would be found io make through-
out the whole of it ; were every smaller fibre thus made at once
discernible ; especially those innumerable threads into which
the spinal marrow is distributed at the bottom of the back :
and could we, through the same medium, perceive those nu-
merous little machines made to serve unto voluntary motions,
(which in the whole body are computed, by some, * to the
number of four hundred and thirty, or thereabouts, or so many
of them as according to the present supposition could possibly
come in view,) and discern their composition ; their various
and elegant figures — round, square, long, triangular, &c. and
behold them do their offices, and see how they ply to and fro,
and work in their respective places, as any motion is to be per-
formed by them: were all these things, I saj', thus made
liable to an easy and distinct view, who would not admiringly
cry out, How fearfully and wonderfully am I made ? And
sure there is no man, sober, who would not, upon such a sight,
pronounce that man mad, that should suppose such a produc-
tion to have been a mere undesigned casualty. At least, if
there be any thing in the world that maybe thought to carry
sufficiently convincing evidences in it, of its having been made
* Riolanus.
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEJIPLE, 129
industriously, and on purpose, not by chance, would not this
composition, thus offered to view, be esteemed to do so much
more ? Yea, and if it did only bear upon it characters equally
evidential, of wisdom and design, with what doth certainly
so, though in the lowest degree, it Avere sufficient to evince
our present purpose. For if one such instance as this would
bring the matter no higher than to a bare equality, that wouid,
at least argue a maker of man's body, as wise, and as properly
designing, as the artificer of any such slighter piece of work-
manship, that may yet, certainly, be concluded the effect of
skill and design. And then, enough might be said, from
other instances, to manifest him unspeakably superior. And
that the matter would be brought, at least, to an equality, upon
the supposition now made, there can be no doubt, if any one
be judge that hath not abjured his understanding and his eyes
together. And what then, if we lay aside that supposition,
(which only somewhat gratifies fancy and imagination,) doth
that alter the case ? Or is there the less of wisdom and con-
trivance expressed in this work of forming man's body, only
for that it is not so easily and suddenly obvious to our sight ?
Then we might with the same reason say, concerning some
curious piece of carved work, that is thought fit to be kept
locked up in a cabinet, when we see it, that there was ad-
mirable workmanship shewn in doing it; but as soon as it is
again shut up in its repository, that there was none at all.
Inasmuch as we speak of the objective characters of wisdom
and design, that are in the thing itself, (though they must
some way or other come under our notice, otherwise we can
be capable of arguing nothing from them, yet.) since we have
sufficient assurance that there really are such characters in the
structure of the body of man as have been mentioned, and a
thousand more than have been thought necessary to be men-
tioned here ; it is plain that the greater or less facility of find-
ing them out, so that we be at a certainty that they arc, (whe-
ther by the slower and more gradual scare* of our own eyes, or
by relying upon the "testimony of such as have purchased them-
selves that satisfaction by their own labour and diligence,) is
merely accidental to the thing itself we are discoursing of; and
neither adds to, nor detracts from, the rational evidence oi the
present argument. Or if it do either, t lie more abstruse paths
of divine wisdom in this, as in other tilings, do rather recom-
mend it the more to our adoration and reverence, than if ewry
thing were obvious, and lay open to the first glance of a more
careless eye. The things which we are sure (or may be, if we
vol. i. s
ISO THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART r.
do not shut our eyes) the wise Maker of this world hath done,
do sufficiently serve to assure us that he could have done this
also; that is, have made every thing in the frame and shape of
our bodies conspicuous in the way but now supposed, if he
had thought it fit. He hath done greater things. And since
he hath not thought that tit, we maybe bold to say, the doing
of it would signify more trifling, and less design. It gives us
a more amiable and comely representation of the Being we are
treating of, that his works are less for ostentation than use ;
and that his wisdom and other attributes appear in them
rather to the instruction of sober, than the gratification of vain
minds.
We may therefore confidently conclude, that the figuration
of the human body carries with it as manifest, unquestionable
evidences of design, as any piece of human artifice, that most
confessedly, in the judgment of any man, doth so ; and there-
fore had as certainly a designing cause. We may challenge
the world to shew a disparity, unless it be that the advantage
is unconceivably great on our side. For would not any one
that hath not abandoned at once both his reason* and his mo-
desty, be ashamed to confess and admire the skill that is shew n
in making a statue, or the picture of a man, that (as one inge-
niously says) is but the shadow of his skin, and deny the wis-
dom that appears in the composure of his body itself, that con-
tains so numerous and so various engines and instruments for
sundry purposes in it, as that it is become an art, and a very
laudable one, but to discover and find out the art and skill that
are shewn in the contrivance and formation of them ?
IV. It is in the mean time strange to consider from how
difFerent and contrary causes it proceeds, that the wise Con-
triver of this fabric hath not his due acknowledgments on the
account of it. For with some, it proceeds from their supine
and drowsy ignorance, and that they little know or think what
prints and footsteps of a Deity they carry about them, in their
bone and flesh, in every part and vein and limb. With others,
(as if too much learning had made them mad, or an excess of
light had struck them into a mopish blindness,) these things
are so well known and seen, so common and obvious, that they
are the less regarded. And because they can give a very punc-
tual account, that things are so, they think it, now, not worth
the considering, how they come to be so. They can trace all
these hidden paths and footsteps, and therefore all seems very
* Parker Tentam. Physico-Theolog.
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 131
easy, and they give over wondering. As they that would de-
tract from Columbus's acquists of glory by the discovery he
had made of America,* by pretending the achievement was
easy ; whom he ingeniously rebuked, by challenging them to
make an egg stand erect, alone, upon a plain table ; which
when none of them could do, he only by a gentle bruising of
one end of it makes it stand on the table without other support,
and then tells them this was more easy than his voyage to Ame-
rica, now they had seen it done ; before, they knew not how
to go about it. Some may think the contrivance of the body of
a man, or other animal, easy, now they know it ; but had
they been to project such a model without a pattern, or any
thing leading thereto, how miserable a loss had they been at,!
How easy a confession had been drawn from them of the finger
of God, and how silent a submission to his just triumph over
their, and all human wit, when the most admired performances
in this kind, by any mortal, have been only faint and infinitely
distant imitations of the works of God ! As is to be seen in
the so much celebrated exploits of Posidonius, Regiomontanus,
and others of this sort.
V. And now if any should be either so incurably blind as
not to perceive, or so perversely wilful as not to acknowledge,
an appearance of wisdom in the frame and figuration of the
body of an animal (peculiarly of man) more than equal to
what appears in any the most exquisite piece of human artifice,
and which no wit of man can ever fully imitate ; although, as
hath been said, an acknowledged equality would suffice to
evince a wise maker thereof, yet because it is the existence of
God we are now speaking of, and that it is therefore not enough
to evince, but to magnify, the wisdom we would ascribe to him;
we shall pass from the parts and frame, to the consideration of
the more principal powers and functions of terrestrial creatures ;
ascending from such as agree to the less perfect orders of these,
to those of the more perfect, namely, of man himself. And
surely to have been the Author of faculties that shall enable to
such functions, will evidence a wisdom that defies our imita-
tion, and will dismay the attempt of it.
We begin with that of gromth. Many sorts of rare engines
we acknowledge contrived by the wit of man, but who hath ever
made one that could grow, or that had in it a self-improving
power? A tree, an herb, a pile of grass, may, upon this ac-
count challenge all the world to make such a thing. That is,
* Archbishop Abbot's Geograph.
332 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
to implant the power of growing into any thing to which it
doth not natively belong, or to make a thing to which it doth.
By what art would they make a seed ? And which way
would they inspire it with a seminal form ? And they that
think this whole globe of the earth was compacted by the casual
(or fatal) coalition of particles of matter, by what magic
would they conjure up so many to come together as should
make one clod ? We vainly hunt with a lingering mind after
miracles ; if we did not more vainly mean by them nothing else
but novelties, we are compassed about with such. And the
greatest miracle is, that we see them not. You with whom the
daily productions of nature (as you call it) are so cheap, see
if you can do the like. Try your skill upon a rose. Yea,
but you must have pre-existent matter ? But can you ever
prove the Maker of the world had so, or even defend the pos-
sibility of uncreated matter ? And suppose they had the free
grant of all the matter between the crown of their head and
the moon, could they tell what to do with it, or how to manage
it, so as to make it yield them one single flower, that they
might glory in, as their own production ?
And what mortal man, that hath reason enough about him to
be serious, and to think a while, would not even be amazed at
the miracle of nutrition ? Or that there are things in the world
capable of nourishment ? Or who would attempt an imitation
here, or not despair to perform any thing like it ? That is, to
make any nourishable thing. Are we not here infinitely out-
done ? Do we not sec ourselves compassed about w ith won-
ders, and are Ave not ourselves such, in that we see, and are
creatures, from all whose parts there is a continual defluxion,
and yet that receive a constant gradual supply and renovation,
by which they are continued in the same state ? As the bush
burning, but not consumed. It is easy to give an artificial
frame to a thing that shall gradually decay and waste till it be
quite gone, and disappear. You could raise a structure of
snow, that would soon do that. But can your manual skill
compose a thing that, like our bodies, shall be continually
melting away, and be continually repaired, through so long a
tract of lime ? Nay, but you can tell how it is done ; you
know in what method, and by Avhat instruments, food is re-
ceived, concocted, separated, and so much as must serve for
nourishment, turned into chyle, and that into blood, first
grossei, and then more refined, and that distributed into all
parts for this purpose. Yea, and what then? Therefore you
are as wise as your Maker. Could you have made such a
2
CHAP. III. T^HE LIVING TEMPLE. 133
thing as the stomach, a liver, a heart, a vein, an artery ? Or
are you so very sure what the digestive quality is ? Or if you
are, a?id know what things best serve to maintain, to repair, or
strengthen it, who implanted that quality ? Both where it is so
immediately useful, or in the other things you would use for
the service of that ? Or how, if such things had not been
prepared to your hand, would you have devised to persuade
the particles of matter into so useful and happy a conjuncture,
as that such a quality might result ? Or, (to speak more suita-
bly to the most,) how, if you had not been shewn the way,
would you have thought it were to be done, or which way
would you have gone to work, to turn meat and drink into
flesh and blood ?
Nor is propagation of their own kind, by the creatures that
have that faculty implanted in them, less admirable, or more
possible to be imitated by any human device. Such produc-
tions stay in their first descent. AY ho can, by his own contri-
vance, find out a way of making any thing that can produce
another like itself. What machine did ever man invent, that
had this power ? And the ways and means by which it is
done, are such (though he that can do all things well knew
how to compass his ends by them) as do exceed notour under-
standing only, but our wonder.
And what shall we say of spontaneous motion, wherewith
we find also creatures endowed that are so mean and despicable
in our eyes, (as well as ourselves,) that is, that so silly a thing
as a fly, a gnat, &c. should have a power in it to move itself,
or stop its own motion, at its own pleasure ? How far have all
attempted imitations in this kind fallen short of this perfection ?
And how much more excellent a thing is the smallest and most
contemptible insect, than the most admired machine we ever
heard or read of; (as Archytas Tarentinus's dove so anciently
celebrated, or more lately Regiomontanus's fly, or his eagle,
or any the like :) not only as having this peculiar poroer, above
any thing of this sort, but as having the sundry other powers^
besides, meeting in it, whereof these are wholly destitute ?
And should we go on to instance further in the several powers
of sensation, both external and internal, the various instincts,
appetitions, passions, sympathies, antipathies, the powers of
memory, (and we might add of speech,) that we find the infe-
rior orders of creatures either generally furnished with, or some
of them, as to this last, disposed unto. How should we even
over-do the present business ; and too needlessly insult over
Jiuman wit, (which we must suppose to have already yielded
134- THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
the cause,) in challenging it to produce and offer to view a hear-
ing, seeing- engine, that can imagine, talk, is capable of hun-
ger, thirst, of desire, anger, fear, grief, &c. as its own creature,
concerning which it may glory and say, I have done this ?
It is so admirable a performance, and so ungainsayable an
evidence of skill and wisdom, with much labour and long tra-
vail of mind, a busy, restless agitation of working thoughts, the
often renewal of frustrated attempts, the varying of defeated
trials ; this way and that, at length to hit upon, and by much
pains, and with a slow, gradual progress, by the use of who can
tell how many sundry sorts of instruments or tools, managed
by more (possibly) than a few hands, by long hewing, ham-
mering, turning, filing, to compose one only single machine
of such a frame and structure, as that by the frequent reinforce-
ment of a skilful hand, it may be capable of some (and that,
otherwise, but a very short-lived) motion? And it is no argu-
ment, or effect of wisdom, so easily and certainly, without
labour, error, or disappointment, to frame both so infinite a
variety of kinds, and so innumerable individuals of every such
kind of living creatures, that cannot only, with the greatest fa-
cility , move themselves with so many sorts of motion, down-
wards, upwards, to and fro, this way or that, with a progres-
sive or circular, a swifter or a slower motion, at their own plea-
sure ; but can also grow, propagate, see, hear, desire, joy,
&c. Is this no work of wisdom, but only either blind fate
or chance ? Of how strangely perverse and odd a complexion
is that understanding, (if yet it may be called an understand-
ing,) that can make this judgment !
VI. And they fliink they have found out a rare knack, and
that gives a great relief to their diseased minds, who have
learned to call the bodies of living creatures, (even the human
not excepted,) by way of diminution, machines y or a sort of
automatons engines.
But how little cause there is to hug or be fond of this fancy,
would plainly appear, if we would allow ourselves leisure
to examine with how small pretence this appellation is so placed
and applied : and, next, if it be applied rightly, to how Utile
purpose it is alleged ; or that it signifies nothing to the exclu-
sion 01 divine wisdom from the formation of them.
And for the first, because we know not a better, let it be
considered how defective and unsatisfying the account is,whirh
the great* and justly admired master in this faculty gives,
i * D, Cartes de passioaibus anima?. part 1. atque alibi.
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 135
how divers of those tilings, which he would have to be so, are
performed only in the mechanical way.
For though his ingenuity must be acknowledged, in his mo-
dest exception of some nobler operations belonging to ourselves
from coming under those rigid necessitating laws, yet certainly,
to the severe inquiry of one not partially addicted to the senti-
ments of so great a wit, because they were his, it would appear
there are great defects, and many tilings yd wanting, in the
account which is given us of some of the meaner of those
functions, which he w ould attribute only to organized matter,
or (to use his own expression) to the conformation of the mem-
bers of the body, and the course of the spirits, excited by the
heat of the heart, &c.
For howsoever accurately he describes the instruments and
the way, his account seems very little satisfying e# the princi-
ple, either of spontaneous motion, or of sensation.
As to spontaneous motion, though it be very apparent that the
muscles, seated in that opposite posture wherein they are
mostly ibund paired throughout the body, the nerves and
the animal spirits in the brain, and (suppose we) that glandule
seated in the inmost part of it, are the instruments of the
motion of the limbs and the whole body ; yet, what are all
these to the prime causation, or much more, to the spontaneity
of this motion ? And whereas, with us, (who are acknow-
ledged to have such a faculty independent on the body,) an act
of will doth so manifestly contribute, so that, when we will,
our body is moved with so admirable facility, and we feel not
the cumbersome weight of an arm to be lifted up, or of our
whole corporeal bulk, to be moved this way or that, by a
slower or swifter motion. Yea, and when as also, if we will,
we can, on the sudden, in a very instant, start up out of the
most composed, sedentary posture, and put ourselves, upon
occasion, into the most violent course of motion or action.
But if we have no such will, though we have the same agile
spirits about us, we find no difficulty to keep in a posture of
rest ; and are, for the most part, not sensible of any endea-
vour or urgency of those active particles, as if they were
hardly to be restrained from putting us into motion ; and against
a reluctant act of our will, we are not moved but with great
difficulty to them, and that will give themselves, and us, kite
trouble. This being, I say, the case with us ; and it being
also obvious to our observation, that it is so very much alike,
in these mentioned respects, with brute creatures, how incon-
ceivable is it, that the directive principle of their motions, and
135 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
ours, should be so vastly and altogether unlike ? (whatsoever
greater perfection is required, with us, ^is to those more noble
and perfect functions and operations which are found to belong 1
(o us. ) That is, that in us, an act of will should signify so very-
much, and be, for the most part, necessary to the beginning,
the continuing, the stopping, or the varying of our motions ;
and in then?, nothing like it, nor any thing else besides, only
that corporeal principle* which he assigns as common to them
and us, the continual heat in the heart, (which he calls a sort
of fire,) nourished by the blood of the veins ; the instruments
of motion already mentioned, and the various representations
and impressions of external objects, as there and elsewheret
he expresses himself! upon which last, (though much is un-
doubtedly to be attributed to it,) that so main a stress should
belaid, as to the diversifying of -motion, seems strange ; when
we may observe so various motions of some silly creatures, as
of a fly in our window, while we cannot perceive, and can
scarce imagine, any change in external objects about them :
yea, a swarm of flies, so variously frisking and plying to and
fro, some this way, others that, with a thousand diversities and
interferings in their motion, and some resting ; while things
are in the same state, externally, to them all. So that what
should cause, or cease, or so strangely vary such motions, is
from thence, or any thing else he hath said, left unimaginable.
As it is much more, how, in creatures of much strength, as a
bear or a lion, a paw should be moved sometimes so gently,
and sometimes with so mighty force, only by mere mechanism,
without any directive principle, that, is not altogether corpo-
real. But most of all, how the strange regularity of motion
in some creatures, as of the spider in making its web, and the
like, should be owing to no other than such causes as he hath
assigned of ihe motions in general of brute creatures. And
what though some motions of our own seem wholly involun-
tary, (as that of our eye-lids, in the case which he supposes,)
doth it therefore follow they must proceed from a principle^
only corporeal, as if our soul had no other act belonging to it,
but that of willing ? Which he doth not downright say ; but
that ii is its only, or its chief act : and if it be its chief act
only, what hinders but that such a motion may proceed from
an act that is not chief ? Or that it may have a power that
inay, sometimes, step forth into act (and in greater matter*
* De Passion, part. 1. art. ft.
t Princip. Philosoph. Dioptric, c. 4. Dissertat. de method..
% De Pass. art. IS.
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 137
than that) "without any formal, deliberated command or direc-
tion of our will ? So little reason is there to conclude, that all
our motions* common to us with beasts, or even their motions
themselves, depend on nothing else than the conformation of
the members, and the course which the spirits, excited by the
heat of the heart, do naturally follow, in the brain, the nerves,
and the muscles, after the same manner with the motion of an
automaton, &c.
But as to the matter of sensation^ his account seems mucli
more defective and unintelligible, that is, how it should be
performed (as he supposes every thing common to us with
beasts may be) without a soul. For, admit that it be (as who
doubts but it is) by the instruments which he assigns, we are
still to seek what is the sentient, or what useth these instru-
ments, and doth sentire or exercise sense by them. That is,
suppose it be performed in the brain, t and that (as he says) by
the help of the nerves, which from thence, like small strings, J
are stretched forth unto all the other members : suppose we
have the three things to consider in the nerves, which he re-
cites — their interior substance, which extends itself like very
slender threads from the brain to the extremities of all the other
members into which they are knit ; the very thin little skins
which inclose these, and which, being continued with those
that inwrap the brain, do compose the little pipes which con»
tain these threads ; and lastly, the animal spirits which are
conveyed down from the brain through these pipes — yet which
of these is most subservient unto sense? That he undertakes
elsewhere $ to declare, namely, that we are not to think (which
we also suppose) some nerves to serve for sense, others for mo-
tion only, as some have thought, but that the inclosed spirits
serve for the motion of the members, and those little threads
(also inclosed) for sense. Are we yet any nearer our purpose ?
Do these small threads" sentire ? Are these the things that ul-
timately receive and discern the various impressions of objects ?
And since they aTe ail of one sort of substance, how comes it to
pass that some of them are seeing threads, others hearing
threads, others tasting, &c. Is it from the diverse and com-
modious figuration of the organs unto which these descend from
the brain ? But though we acknowledge and admire the cu-
« As art. 16. tPrincip. Philosoph. Sect. 18$.
X De Passion, art. 11. § Dioptr. c. 4. S. 4,, &
VOL. 1. J
» ".Q
l<aa THE LIVING TEMPI.*:. PART 3.
rious and, exquisite fprmatipH of t':ose organs, and their most
apt usefulness (as organs, or instruments) to the purposes for
which they are designed, yet wh,at do they signify, without a
jproportiphably apt and able agent to Use them, or percipient
to entertain and judge of the several notices, which by them
are only transmitted from external things ? That, is, suppose
we a drop of ever so pure and transparent liquor, or let there
be three, diversely tinctured or coloured, and (lest they mingle)
kept asunder by their distinct, infolding coats ; let these en-
compass one the other, and together compose one little
shining globe : are Ave satisfied that now this curious, pretty
ball can see ? Nay, suppose we it ever so conveniently situate;
suppose we the fore-mentioned strings fastened to it, and these,
being hollow, well replenished with as pure air or Mind
or gentle flame as you can imagine ; yea, and all the before-
described little threads to boot ; can it yet do the feat ?
Nay, suppose we all things else to concur that we can suppose,
except a living principle, (call that by what name you will,)
and is it not still as incapable of the act of seeing, as a ball of
clay or a pebble stone ? Or can the substance of the brain
itself perform that or any other act of sense, (Tor it is superflu-
ous to sppajs distinctly of the res!,) any more than tjie pulp of
an apple or a dish of curds? So that, trace this, matter
whither you will, within the compass of your assigned l^i
you are still at the same loss : range through the whole
' what can you find but. flesh and bones, marrow and
blood, strings and threads, humour and vapour ; and which
of these, is capable of sense ? These are your materials and
such tyke ; order tliern as you will, put them into what method
you can devise, and except you can make it live, you cannot
make it ; so much asfeel^ much less perform all other acts of
sense besides, unto which, these fools alone seem as unpro-
portionable, as a plough-share to the most curious sculpture, or
a pair of tongs to the most melodious music.
But how much more inconceivable it is, that the figuration
and concurrence of the fore-mentioned organs can alone suffice
to produce the several passions of love, fear, anger, &e. whereof
we find so evident indications in brute creatures it is enough
but to hint. And (but. that all persons do not read the same
books) it were altogether unnecessary to have said so much,
after so plain demonstration* already extant, that matter, how-
* In Doctor More's Immortality of the Soul-
CHAP. III. THE LIVIXT, TEMPLE. 139
soever modified, any of tile mentioned ways is incapable of
sens 1 ".
Nor would it seem necessary to attempt any thing in this
kind, in particular and direct opposition to (lie very peculiar
sentiments of this most ingenious author, (as he w ill undoubted-
ly be reckoned in all succeeding time,) \v ho, when he under-
takes to shew what sense is, and how it is performed, makes it
the proper business of the soul, comprehends it under the
name of cogitation j* naming himself a thinking thing, adds
by way of question, What is that ? and answers, A thing
doubting, understanding, affirming, denying, willing, hilling,
and also imagining, and exercising sense ; says + expressly it is
evident to all that it is the soul that exercises sense, not the
body, + in as direct words as the so much celebrated Poet of
old. The only wonder is, that under this general name of co-
gitation he denies it unto brutes ; under which name, he may
be thought less fitly to have included it, than to have affirmed
them incapable of any thing to w r hich that name ought to be
applied ; as hedoth not only affirm, but esteems himself by ri >sl
firm reasons to have proved. §
And yet that particular reason seems a. great deal more _
than it is cogent, which ne'givesfot liischodsing his particular
way of differencing brutes from human creatures, namely, lest
any prejudice should be done to the doctrine of the human
soul^s immortality ; there being nothing, as he truly says, that
doth more easily turn off weak minds from the path of virtue,
than if they should think the souls of brutes to be of the same
nature with our own ; and therefore that nothing remains to
be hoped or feared after this life, more by us than by flies
or pismires. For surely there were other ways of providing
against that danger, besides that of denying them so much as
sense, (other than merely organicai, || as he somewhere allevi-
ates the harshness of that position, but without telling us what
useth these organs,) and the making them nothing else but well-
formed machines.
But yet if we should admit the propriety of this appellation,
and acknowledge (Ihe thing itself intended to be signified by it)
that all the powers belonging to mere brutal nature are purely
mechanical, and no more.
To Avhat purpose, secondly, is it here alleged, or what
can it be understood to signify ? What is lost from our cause
* Piincip. Phil. part. 4. ISO. f Medifc 2. % Dioptr. c. 4.
§ Resp. sextae. Dissert. De Method, e. r>. |j Resp. sexfce.
140 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART J.
by it? And what have atheists whereof to glory ? For was
the contrivance of these machines their's ? Were they the
authors of this rare invention, or of any thing like it ? Or can
they shew any product of human device and wit, that shall be
capable of vying with the strange powers of those machines ?
Or can they imagine what so highly exceeds all human skill,
to have fallen by chance, aiid without any contrivance or
design at all, into a frame capable of such powers and ope-
rations ?
If they be machines, they are (as that free-spirited author
speaks) to be considered as a sort of machine * made by the
hand of God, which it is by infinite degrees better ordered,
and hath in it more admirable motions, than any that could
ever have been formed by the art of man. Yea, and we might
add, so little disadvantage would accrue to the present cause
(whatever might to some other) by this concession, that rat her
(if it were not a wrong to the cause, which justly disdains we
should allege any thing false or uncertain for its support)
this would add much, we will not say to its victory, but
to its triumph, that we did acknowledge them nothing
else than mere mechanical contrivances. For, since they
must certainly either be such, or have each of them a soul
to animate, and enable them to their several functions ; it
seems a much more easy performance, and is more conceiv-
able, and within the nearer reach of human apprehension,
that they should be furnished with such a one, than be made
capable of so admirable operations without it ; and the former
(though it were not a surer) were a more amazing, unsearch-
able, and less comprehensible discovery of the most transcend-
ent wisdom, than the latter.
VII. But because whatsoever comes under the name of cogi-
tation, properly taken, is assigned to some higher cause than
mechanism ; and that there are operations belonging to man,
which lay claim to a reasonable soul, as the immediate princi-
ple and author of them ; we have yet this further step to ad-
vance, that is, to consider the most apparent evidence we have
of a wise, designing agent, in the powers and nature of this
more excellent, and, among things more obvious to our notice,
the noblest of his productions.
And were it not for the slothful neglect of the most to study
themselves, we should not here need to recount unto men the
common and well-known abilities and excellencies which pe-
* Dissert, de Method. Sect. 5.
CHAF. III. THE LIVING TEMP7,F>. HI
culiarly belong <o their own nature. They might take notice,
without being- told, that first, as to their intellectual faculty,
they have somewhat about them, that can think, understand,
frame notions of tilings ; that can rectify or supply the false or
defective representations which are made to them by their ex-
ternal senses and fancies; that can conceive of things far above
the reach and sphere of sense, the moral good or evil of ac-
tions or inclinations, what there is in them of rectitude or
pravity ; whereby they can animadvert, and cast their eye
inward upon themselves ; observe the good or evil acts or in-
clinations, the knowledge, ignorance, dulness, vigour, tran-
quillity, trouble, and, generally, the perfections or imperfec-
tions, of their own minds ; that can apprehend the general
natures of things, the future existence of what, yet, is not, with
the future appearance of that, to us, which, as yet, appears
not.
Of which last sort of power, the confident assertion, <c No
man can have a conception of the future," (Hobbs's Human
Nature,) needs not, against our experience, make us doubt ;
especially being enforced by no better, than that pleasant rea-
son there subjoined, for, the future is not yet ; that is to say,
because it is future : and so (which is all this reason amounts
to) we cannot conceive it, because we cannot. For though our
conceptions of former things guide us in forming notions of
what is future, yet sure our conception of any thing as future,
is much another sort of conception from what we have of the
same thing as past, as appears from its different effects ; for if
an object be apprehended good, we conceive of it as past with
sorrow, as future with hope and, joy ; if evil, with joy as past,
with tear and sorrow as future. And (which above all the rest
discovers and magnifies the intellectual power of the human
>oul) that they can form a conception, howsoever imperfect,
of this absolutely perfect Being, whereof we are discoursing.
Which even they that acknowledge not its existence, cannot
deny : except they will profess themselves blindly, and at a ven-
ture, to deny they know not what, or what they have not so
much as thought of.
They may take notice of their power of comparing things,
of discerning and making a judgment of their agreements and
disagreements, their proportions and dispositions to one another;
of affirming or denying this or that, concerning such or such
things ; and of pronouncing, with more or less confidence,
concerning the truth or falsehood of such afliriaations or ne-
gations.
142 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PATIT T.
And moreover, of their power of argui>2g\ and inferring- one
Ihirlg from another, so as from one plain and evident prin-
ciple, to draw forth a long- chain of consequences, that may be
discerned to be linked therewith.
They have withal to consider the liberty and the large ca-
pacity of the human zcill, which, when it is itself, rejects
the dominion of any other than the supreme Lord's, and refuses
satisfaction in any other titan the supreme and most compre-
hensive good.
vlnd upon even so hasty and transient a view of a thing
furnished with such powers and faculties, we have sufficient
occasion to bethink ourselves, How came such a thing as this
into being; whence did it spring, or to what original doth it
owe itself? More particularly we have here two things to be
discoursed of — That, notwithstanding so high excellencies, the
soul of man doth yet appear to be a caused being, that some-
time had a beginning.- — That, by them, ii is sufficiently evi-
dent, that it owes itself to a wise and intelligent cause.
As to the first of these, we need say the less, because
that sort of atheists with whom Ave have chiefly now to do,
deny not human souls to have had a beginning, as supposing
them to be produced by the bodies they animate, by the same
generation, and that such generation did sometimes begin ;
that only rude and wildly moving matter was from eternity,
and that by infinite alterations and commixtures in that eter-
nity, it fell at last into this orderly frame and state wherein
things now are, and became prolific, so as to give beginning
to the several sorts of living things which do now continue to
propagate themselves ; theitiad folly of which random fancy
we have been so largely contending against hitherto. The
other sort, who were for an eternal succession of generations,
have been sufficiently refuted by divers dtlieSrs, and. partly by
what hath been already said in this discourse; and we may
further meet with them ere it be long. We in the mean time
find not any professing atheism, to make human souls, as such,
necessary and self-originate lieings.
Yet it is requisite to consider not only what persons of atheis-
tical persuasions have said, but what also they possibly may
say. And moreover, some, that have been remote rVoni
atheism, have been prone, upon the cbhterttpfatiofi bf the ex-
cellencies of the human soul, to' over-magnify,' yea and even
no less than deify it. I? is therefore needful to s>v somewhat
in this matter. For if nothing of direct and downright aihe-
ism had been designed, the rash hyperboles, as we will cha-
2
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. ■ 143
ritably call iliem, and unwarrantable rhetorications of these
latter, should they obtain to be looked upon and received. as
severe and strict assertions of truth, were equally destructive of
religion, as the others' more strangely bold and avowed oppo-
sition to it. *
Such, I mean, as have spoken of (he souls of men as parts
of God, one thing wi{h 3)!m ; a particle, of divine breath ;
aTTO(n:xcriA.x eaviZ — an extract or dtrh:alioft of himself; that
have rot '.' ;i PPlv *° them his most peculiar attributes,
or say that of tin m, which Is most appropriate and incommu-
nicably b long ■• to >hi«i tJonc. _> •■. give them his very
na;t;i\ and say in . oisds they were God. t
' would render a temple alike insigni^jqantj to sup-
j no wovi-hipper, as to suppose none who should be wor-
shipped. Anil what should be the worshipp r, when our
souls arc thought the same tiling wish ^vhat should be the ob-
ject pS our worship ? But methiuks, when we consider their
necessitous indigent state, their wants and cravings, their
pressures and groans, their grievances and complaints, we
should find enough to convince us they are not the self-origi-
•if-suiheient being. And miglit even despair any
thing should be plain and easy to them, with whom it is a
difficulty to distinguish themselves from God. Why are they
iu a state which they dislike ? Wherefore arc they not full
and satisfied ? Why do ihey wish and complain ? Is this God-
like ? JSnt if any have a doubt hanging in their minds con-
cerning the unity of souls with one another, or with the soul
of the world, let them read what is already extant : and sup-
posing them, thereupon, distinct beings : there needs no more
to prove them not to be necessary, independent, uncaused
* Seneca. Epistle 92. Hor. Serm. Marcus Antoninus.
t The Pythagoreans, concerning whom it is said, they were wont to
admonish one another to take heed, Mri S;a«rwiti rov, ev Ixvt:^; Shov — I
Ifst they khuuld re/it Gud in thernsdvis. Jainbiich. de vita. Pytliag. l':ato,
who undertakes to prove the immortality of the soul by such arguments;
as, if they did conclude any thing, would conclude it to be God; that it
is the fountain, the principle <nrty», £ &iX* °* niotion ; and adds, that
the principle is unbegotten, &c. in Phaedro. Makes it the cause of all
things, and the ruler of all, De Leg. 1. 10. though his words there seem
meant of the soul of the world. Concerning which soul, afterwards, inquir-
ing whether all ought not to account it God, he answers, Yes certainly,
except any one be come to extreme madness. And whether an identity
were not imagined of our souls, with that of the world, or with God, is too
much left in deubt, both as to him and'some of his followers; to say no-
thing of modern enthusiasts.
144 THE LIVING TEMPLE. FART T.
ones, * than their subjection to so frequent changes ; their ig-
norance, doubts, irresolution, and gradual progress to know-
ledge, certainty, and stability in their purposes ; their very
being united with these lwdies in "which they have been but a
little while, as we all know ; whereby they undergo no small
change, (admitting them to have been pre-existcnt,) and
wherein they experience so many. Yca,Mhether those changes
import any immutation of their very essence or no, the repug-
nancy being so plainly manifest of the very terms, necessary
and changeable. And inasmuch as it is so evident that a
necessary being can receive no accession to itself; that it must
always have, or keep itself, after the same manner, and in the
same state ; that if it be necessarily such, or such, (as we can-
not conceive it to be, but we must, in our own thoughts, affix
to it some determinate state or other,) it must be eternally such,
and ever in that particular unchanged state.
Therefore be the perfection of our souls as great as our most
certain knowledge of them can possibly allow us to suppose
it, it is not yet so greed, but that we must be constrained to
confess them no necessary, self-originate beings, and, by
consequence, dependent ones, that owe themselves to some
cause.
Nor yet, secondly, (that we may pass over to the other strange-
ly distant extreme,) is the perfection of our souls so little, as to
require less than an intelligent cause, endowed with the wis-
dom which we assert and challenge unto the truly necessary,
uncaused Being. Which, because he hath no other rival or
competitor for the glory of this production, than only the for-
tuitous jumble of the blindly-moving particles of matter, di-
rects our inquiry to this single point : Whose image does the
thing produced bear ? Or which does it more resemble ? Stupid^
senseless, inactive matter, (or at the best only supposed mov-
ing, though no man, upon the atheists 1 terms, can imagine
how it came to be so,) or thcaclire, intelligent Being, whom w«
affirm the cause of all things, and who hath peculiarly entitled
himself, the Father of spirits.
That is, we are to consider whether the powers and operations
belonging to the reasonable soid do not. plainly argue — That it
neither rises from, nor is, mere matter ; whence it will be con*
sequent, it must, have an efficient, diverse from matter — and,
That it owes itself to an intelligent efficient.
• Dr. More's Poem. Antimonopsuchia. His Immortality of the Soul.
Mr. Baxter's Appendix to the Reasons of Christian Religion, &c
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 145
I. As to the former, we need not deal distinctly and se-
verally concerning- their original and their nature. For if they
are not mere matter, it wiU be evident enough they do not
arise from thence.
(1.) So that all will be summed up in this inquiry, "Whether
reason can agree to matter considered alone, or by itself?
But here the case requires closer discourse. For, in order
to this inquiry, it is requisite the subject be determined we in-
quire about. It hath been commonly taken for granted, that
all substance is either matter, or mind; when yet it hath not
been agreed what is the distinct notion of the one or the other.
And for the stating their difference, there is herein both an ap-
parent difficulty and necessity.
A difficulty ; for the ancient difference, that the former is
extended, having parts lying without each other ; the latter*
vmextended, having no parts ; is now commonly exploded,
and, as it seems, reasonably enough ; both because we scarce
know how to impose it upon ourselves, to conceive of a mind
or spirit that is unextended, or that hath no parts; and that,
on the other hand, the atoms of matter, strictly taken, must
also be unextended, and be without parts. And the difficulty
of assigning the proper difference between these two, is further
evident, from what we experience how difficult it is to form
any clCar distinct notion of substance itself, so to be divided
into matter and mind, stripped of all its attributes. * Though,
as that celebrated author also speaks, we can be surer of no-
thing, than that there is a real somewhat, that sustains those at-
tributes.
Yet also, who sees not a necessity of assigning a difference?
For how absurd is it, io affirm, deny, or inquire, of what
belongs, or belongs not, to matter, or mind, if it be altogether
unagreed, what Ave mean by the one, or the other.
That the former, speaking of any continued portion of mat-
ter, hath parts actually separable ; the other being admitted
to have parts too, but that cannot be actually separated ; with
the power of self-contraction, and self-dilatation, ascribed to
this latter, denied of the former, seem as intelligible differences,
and as little liable to exception, as any Ave can think of. Be-
sides Avhat Ave observe of dulness, inactivity, insensibility, in
one sort of substance ; and of vigour, activity, capacity of
sensation, and spontaneous motion, Avith ay hat Ave can conceive
* As is to be seen in that accurate discourse of Mr. Locke. His Essay
on the Human Understanding, published since this was first •written.
Y-OL. I. U
J46 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
of self- vitality, in this latter sort ; that is, that whereas mat-
ter is only capable of having life imparted to it, from some-
what that lives of itself, created mind or spirit, though depend-
ing for its being on the supreme cause, hath life essentially
included in that being, so that it is inseparable from it, and it
is the same thing to it, to live, and to be. But a merely ma-
teriate being, if it live, borrows its life, as a thing foreign to
it, and separable from it.
But. if, instead of such distinction, we should shortly and
at the next have pronounced, that as mind is a cogitant sub-
stance, matter is incogitant ; how would this have squared
with our present inquiry? What antagonist would have
agreed with us upon this state of the question ? that is, in ef-
fect, whether that can reason or think, that is incapable of
reason or thought ? Such, indeed, as have studied more to
hide a bad meaning, than express a good one, have confounded
<he terms matter or bodi/ y and substance. But take we matter
as contradistinguished to mind and spirit, as above described :
and it' is concerning this that we intend this inquiry.
And here we shall therefore wave the consideration of their
conceits, concerning the manner of the first origination of
men, who thought their whole being was only a production of
the earth. Whereof the philosophical account deserves as
much laughter, instead of confutation, as any the most fabu-
lously poetical : that is, how they were formed (as also the
other animals) in certain little bags, or wombs of the earth,
out of which, when they grew ripe, they broke forth, &c.
Gassendi Epicur, Sj/ntag,
And only consider what is said of the constitution and nature
of the human soul itself; which is said 'Ef ari^u/v auriv wyxHa-9xi
>.Holoi.Twt, *xi rpoyyvXxrdlTw, &c* to be composed of the smoothest
and the roundest atoms ; and which are of the neatest
fashion, and every way, you must suppose, the best con-
ditioned the whole country could afford ; of a more excel-
lent make, as there is added, than those of the fire itself.
And these are the things you must know, which think, study,
contemplate, frame syllogisms, make theorems, lay plots,
contrive business, act the philosopher, the logician, the mathe-
matician, statesman, and every thing else ; only you may
except the priest, for of him there was no need.
(2.) This therefore is our present theme, whether such things
as these be capable of such, or any acts of reason, yea or no ?
* s
yntag. and in Epicurus's Epist. to Heroclot. in Laert,
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 147
And if such a subject may admit of serious discourse ; in
this way it may be convenient to proceed, namely, either any
such small particle, or atom (for our business is not now with
Des Cartes, but Epicurus) alone, is rational, or a good con-
venient number of them assembled, and most happily met to-
gether. It is much to be feared the former way will not do.
For we have nothing to consider in any of these atoms, in its
solitary condition, besides its magnitude, its figure, and its
weight, and you may add also its motion, if you could devise
how it should come by it.
And now, because it is not to be thought that all atoms are
rational, (for then the stump of a tree or a bundle of straw
might serve to make a soul of, for aught we know, as good as
the best,) it is <o be considered by which of those properties
an atom shall be entitled to the privilege of being rational, and
the rational atoms be distinguished from the rest. Is it their
peculiar magnitude or size that so far ennobles them ? Epicurus
would here have us believe, that the least are the fittest for this
turn. Now if you consider how little we must suppose them
generally to be, according to his account of them ; (that is,
that looking upon any of those little motes a stream whereof
you may perceive when the sun shines in at a window, and he
doubts not but many myriads of even ordinary atoms, go to
the composition of any one of these scarcely discernible
motes ;) how sportful a contemplation were it, to suppose one
of those furnished with all the powers of a reasonable soul ?
Though it is likely they would not laugh at the jest, that think
thousands of souls might be conveniently placed upon the
point of a needle. And yet, which makes the matter more
admirable, that very few, except they be very carefully picked
and chosen, can be found among those many myriads, but will
be too big. to be capable of rationality. Here sure the fate is
very hard, of those that come nearest the size, but only, by a.
very little too much corpulency, happen to be excluded, as
unworthy to be counted among the rational atoms. But sure if
all sober reason be not utterly lost and squandered away among
these little entities, it must needs be judged altogether incom-
prehensible, why, if upon the account of mere littleness any
atom should be capable of reason, all should not be so : and
then we could not but have a very rational world. At least,
the difference in this point being so very small among them, and
they being all so very little, methinks they should all be capa-
ble of some reason, and have only less or more of it, according
as they are bigger and less. But there is little doubt, that single
HS THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART X.
properly of less magnitude, will not be stood upon as the
charactcrisfical difference of rational and irrational atoms : and!
because their more or less gravity is reckoned necessarily and
so immediately to depend on that, (for those atoms cannot he
thought porous, but very closely* compacted each one within
itself,) this, it is likely, will as little be depended on.* And
so their peculiar figure must be the more trusted to, as the dif-
ferencing thing. And because there is in this respect so great
a variety among this little sort of people, or nation, as this au-
thor somewhere calls them, (whereof he gives so punctual an
account,f as if he had been the generalissimo of their armies,
and Avere wont to view them at their rendezvous, to form them
into regiments and squadrons, and appoint them to the distinct
services he found them aptest for,) no doubt it was a difficulty
to determine which sort of figure was to be pitched on to make
up the rational regiment. But since his power was absolute,
and there was none to gainsay or contradict, the round figure
was judged best, and most deserving this honour. Otherwise,
a reason might have been asked (and it might have been a
greater difficulty to have given a good one) why some other
figure might not have done as well ; unless respect were had to
fellow-atoms, and that it was thought, they of this figure could
better associate for the present purpose ; and that we shall con-
sider of by and by. We now proceed on the supposition that
possibly, a single atom, by the advantage of this figure, might
be judged capable of this high achievement. And in that case,
it would not be impertinent to inquire whether, If an atom,
were perfectly round, and so, very rational ; but by an un-
expected, misadventure, it comes to have one little corner
somewhere clapped on, it be hereby quite spoiled of its
rationality? And again, whether one that comes somewhat
near That figure, only it hath some little protuberancies upon
if, might not by a little filing, or the friendly rubs of other
atoms, become rational ? And yet, now we think on it, of this
* Where yet it falls out somewhat crossly, that the least (and conse-
quently the lightest) should he thought fitter to he the matter of the ra-
tional soul, because they are aptest for motion, when yet no other cause
is assigned of their motion besides their gravity, which cannot hut be
more, as they are bigger; (for no doubt if you should try them in a pair,
of scales, the biggest would be found to out-weigh :) whence also it should,
seem to follow, that the heaviest having most in them of that which is
Ihe cause of motion, should be the most moveable, and so by consequence
the biggest.
r That they are round, oblong, oval, plain, hooked, rough, smooth,
bunch-barked, &c,
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 149
improvement lie leaves no hope, because lie tells us, though they
have parts, yet they are so solidly compacted that they are
by no force capable of dissolution. And so -whatever their
fate is in this particular, they must abide it without expecta-
tion of change. And yet, though we cannot really alter it for
the better with any of them, yet we may think as favourably
of the matter as we please ; and for any thing that yet appears,
whatever peculiar claim the round ones lay to rationality, we
may judge as well ; and shall not easily be disproved of any
of the rest.
Upon the whole, no one of these properties alone, is likely
to make a rational atom : what they will all do, meeting together,
may yet seem a doubt. That is, supposing we could hit upon
one single atom that is at once of a very little size, and conse-
quently ver} T light and nimble, and most perfectly smooth, and
imexceptionably round, (and possibly there may be found a
good many such,) will not this do the business ? May we not
now hope to have a rational sort of people among them, that is,
those of this peculiar family or tribe ? And yet still the matter
will be found to go very hard ; for if we cannot imagine or
devise how any one of these properties should contribute any
thing (as upon our utmost disquisition we certainly cannot)
towards the power of reasoning, it is left us altogether unima-
ginable how all these properties together should make a ra-
tional atom ! There is only one relief remaining, that is, that
we add to these other properties some peculiarly-brisk sort
of actual motion : (for to be barely moveable will not serve,
inasmuch as all are so :) but will not actual motion, added to
its being irreprehensibly little, light, and round, especially if
it be a very freakish one, and made up of many odd, unex-
pected windings and turns, effect the business ? Possibly it
might do something to actual reasoning, supposing the power
were there before ; for who can tell but the little thing was
fallen asleep, and by this means its power might be awakened
into some exercise ? But that it, should give the power itself,
is above all comprehension ; and there is nothing else to give
it. These that have been mentioned, being all the prime qua-
lities that are assigned to atoms singly considered ; all other
that can be supposed, belonging to concrete bodies, that are
composed of many of them meeting together. And therefore
hither in the next place our inquiry must be directed, whether
any number of atoms, definite or indefinite, being in themselves
severally irrational, can become rational by association, or
compose and make up a rational soul ?
150 THE LfvlXG TEMPLE* TAUT f<
Hitherto it must be acknowledged we have not fdflgfit with
any adversary ; not having met with any that have asserted
the rationality of single, corporeal atoms ; yet because Ave
know not what time may produce, and whither the distress
and exigency of a desperate cause may drive the maintainers
of it, it Mas not therefore lit to say nothing to that supposable
or possible assertion, I mean possible to be asserted, howso-
ever impossible it is to be true. Nor yet could it well admit
of any thing to be said to it, but in that ludicrous and sportful
way. If we will suppose any to be so foolish, they arc to be
dealt with according to their folly.
J?ut now as to this other conceit, that atoms, provided they'
be of -the right stamp or kind, may, a competent number of
them assembled together, compose a reasonable soul, is an
express article of the Epicurean creed. And therefore, here,
we are to deal more cautiously ; not that this is any whit a
wiser fancy than the other, but that the truth in this matter,
is surer to meet with opposition in the minds of some persons,
already formed unto that wild apprehension, and tinctured
with it.
Wherefore such must be desired to consider in the first
place, if they will be true disciples of Epicurus throughout,
what he affirms of all atoms universally, that they must be
simple, uncompounded bodies, (or, if you will, corpuscles,)
not capable of division or section, by no force dissoluble, and
therefore immutable, or in themselves void of any mutation.
Hereupon let it be next considered, if there were in them,
those that are of the right size, shape, and weight, severally,
some certain sparks or seeds of reason, (that Ave may make
the supposition as advantageous as we can,) or dispositions
thereto, yet how shall it be possible to them to communicate,
or have that communion with one another, as together to
constitute an actually and completely rational or thinking
thing? If every one could bring somewhat to a common
stock that might be serviceable to that purpose ; how shall
each one's proportion or share be imparted ? They can none
of them emit any thing, there can possibly be no such thing
as an ejjlinitwi from any of them, inasmuch as they are incapa-
ble of diminution ; and are themselves each of them as little as
the least imaginable effluvium, that we would suppose to pro-
ceed from this or that particular atom'. They can at the most
but touch one another; penetrate, or get into one another they
cannot ; insomuch as if any one have a treasure in it, which is
in readiness for the making up au intellective faculty or power
4
CHAP. ITT. TUT LIVING TEMPLE. 151
among them tint should be common to them all ; yet each
one remains so locked up within itself, and is so reserved and
incommunicative, that no other, mud: less the whole body of
them, can be any jot the wiser. So that, this is like to be a
very dull assembly.
But then, if there be nothing of reason to be communicated,
we are yet at a greater loss ; for if it be said, having nothing
else to com.mipiicale, (hey communicate themselves, what is
that self? Is it a rational self? Or is every single atom that
enters this composition, reason? Or is it a principle of rea-
son ? Is it s seed ? Or is it a part ? Is it a thought ? What
shall avc suppose ? Or what is (here in the properties assigned
to this sort of atoms that can bespeak it any of these ? And
if none of these can be supposed, what doth their association
signify towards ratiocination ? They are little, what doth
that contribute ? Therefore (here may need the more of them
to make a good large sonl ; but why must a little thing, devoid
of reason, contribute more towards it, than another somewhat
bigger ? They are light, doth (hat mend (he matter? They
are (he sooner blown away, (hey can (he less cohere, or keep
together ; they are (he more easily capable of dissipation, the
less of keeping their places in solemn counsel. They are
round, and exactly smooth. But why do (hey the more con-
veniently associate upon that account for this purpose ? They
cannot therefore come so close together as they might have
done, had they been of various figures. They cannot, indeed,
give or receive so rude touches. This signifies somewhat
towards the keeping of state, but what do(h it to the exercise
of reason ? Their being so perfectly and smoothly round,
makes them the more incapable of keeping a steady station,
they are (he more in danger of rolling away from one ano(her ;
they can upon (his account lay no hold of each other. Their
counsels and resolves are likely to be the more lubricous, and
liable to an uncertain volubility. It is no( to be imagined what
a collection of individuals, only thus qualified, can do when
they are come together, an assembly (hus constituted. Are we
hence to expect oracles, philosophical determinations, maxims
of state ? And since they are supposed (o be so much alike,
how are the mathematical atoms to be distinguished from the
moral? those from the political ? the contemplative from (he
active ? Or when the assembly thinks fit (o entertain itself with
matters of this or that kind, what must be its different compo-
sure or posture ? Into what mould or figure must it cast itself
for one purpose, and into what, for another ? It is hard to
J. r )2 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
imagine that these Utile globular bodies, that we may well sup-
pose to be as like as one egg can be to another, should by the
mere alteration of their situation, in respect of one another,
(and no alteration besides can be so much as imagined among
them,) make so great a change in the complexion of this
assembly ; so that now, it shall be disposed to seriousness, and
by some transposition of the spherical particles, to mirth, now
to business, and by and by to pleasure. And seeing all human
sWls are supposed made of the same sort of material, how are
the atoms modelled in one man, and how in another ? What
atoms are there to dispose to this sect more, and what to ano-
ther ? Or if a good reason can be assigned for their difference,
what shall be given for their agreement ? Whence is it that
there are so unquestionable, common notions every where re-
reived ? "Why are not all things transposed in some minds,
when such a posture of the atoms as might infer it, is as
supposable as any other ! Yea, and since men are found not
always to be of one mind with themselves, it is strange and
incomprehensible, that one situation of these atoms, that con-
stitute his soul, should dispose him to be of one opinion, and
another of another. IIow are they to be ranged ? When for
the affirmative, — how for the negative ? And yet a great deal
more strange, that since their situation is so soon changed, and
so continually changing, (the very substance of the soul being
supposed nothing else than a thing very like, but a little finer
than a busy and continually moving flame of fire,) any man
should ever continue to be of the same opinion with himself,
one quarter of an hour together ; that all notions arc not con-
founded and jumbled ; that the same thing is not thought and
unthought, resolved and unresolved a thousand times in a day.
That is, if any thing could be thought, or resolved at all, or
if this were a subject capable of framing, or receiving any sort
of notion.
But still that is the greatest difficulty, how there can be such
a thing as thinking, or forming of notions. The case is plain
of such notions as have no relation to matter, or dependence
upon external sense. For what doth that contribute to my
contemplation of my oavii mind, and its acts and powers ; to
my animadversion, or knowing that 1 think, or will, this or
that ?
But besides, and more generally, what proportion is there,
between a thought, and the motion of an atom ? Will we ap-
peal to our faculties, to our reason itself ? And whither else
will we ? Is there any cognation or kindred between the ideas
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 153
we have of these things, the casual agitatron of a small parti-
cle of matter, (be it as little or as round as we please to imagine,)
and an act of intellection or judgment ? And what if there be
divers of them together ? What can they do more towards tfie
composing an intelligent thing, than many ciphers to the arith-
metical composition of a number ? It would be as rational to sup-
pose a heap of dust, by long lying together, might at last become
rational. Yes, these are things that have, someway or other,
the power of motion ; and what can they effect by that ? They
can frisk about, and ply to and fro, and interfere among them-
selves, and hit, and justle and tumble over one another, and
that will contribute a great deal ; about as much, Ave may
suppose, as the shaking of such dust well in a bag, by which
means it might possibly become finer and smaller something ;
and by continuing that action, at length rational ! No ; but
these atoms, of which the soul is made, have a great advan-
tage by their being disposed into a so well-contrived and fitly-
organized receptacle as the body is. It is indeed true, and
admirable, that the body is, as hath been before observed, so
fitly framed for the purposes whereto the whole of it, and its
several parts, are designed. But how unfitly is that commo-
dious structure of it so much as mentioned, by such as will
not allow themselves to own and adore the wisdom and power
of its great Architect.
And what if the composure of the body be so apt and useful,
so excellent in its own kind ; is it so in every kind, or to all
imaginable purposes ? Or what purpose can we possibly ima-
gine more remote or foreign to the composition of the body,
than that the power of ratiocination should be derived thence ?
It might as well be said it was so made, to whirl about the sun,
or to govern the motions of the moon and stars, as to confer
the power of reason, or enable the soul to think, to under-
stand, to deliberate, to will, &c. Yea, its organs, some of
them, are much more proportionable to those actions, than any
of them unto these. Which, though a well-habited body,
while the soul remains in this imprisoned state, do less hinder,
yet how doth it help ? And that it might perform these acts
without bodily organs, is much more apprehensible than how
they can properly be said to be performed by them. And
that, though they are done in the body, they would be done
much better out of it.
But shall it be granted that these soul-constituting atoms, till
they be (or otherwise than as they are) united with a duly or-
ganized body, are utterly destitute of any reasoning or in*
vol. i. X
134 THE LTVIXG TEMPLE. PART J.
telligcnt power? Or are they, by themselves, apart from
this grosser body, irrational ? If this be not granted, the
thing- we intend must be argued out. Either then, they
are, or they are not. If the latter be said, then they have it
of themselves, without dependence on the organized body ;
and so we arc fairly agreed to quit that pretence, without more
ado, of their partaking reason from thence. And are only
left to weigh over again what hath been ahead}' said to evince
the contrary, that is, how manifestly absurd it is, to imagine
that particles of matter, by their peculiar size, or v. eight, or
shape, or motion, or all of these together ; and that, whether
single or associated, should be capable of reasoning. If the
former be the thing v.hich is resolved to be stuck to, that is,
that they are of themselves irrational, but they become rea-
sonable by their being united in such a prepared and organized
body, this requires to be a little further considered. And to
this purpose it is necessary to obviate a pitiful shift that it is
possible some may think tit to use, for the avoiding the force
of this dilemma ; and may rely upon as a ground, why they
may judge this choice the more secure ; that is, that they say
they arc rational by dependence on the body they animate ;
because they are only found so united with one another there ;
that there they have the first coalition ; there they are severed
from such as serve not this turn: there they arc pent in, and
held together as long as its due temperament lasts ; which,
when it fails, they are dissipated, and so lose their great ad-
vantage for the acts of reason, which they had in such a body.
What pleasure soever this may yield, it will soon appear it
does them little service. For it only implies, that they have
their rationality of themselves, so be it that they were together ;
and not immediately from the body ; or any otherwise, than
that they are somewhat beholding to it, tor a fair occasion of
being together ; as if it were, else, an unlawful assembly ; or
that they knew not, otherwise, how to meet and hold toge-
ther. They will not say that the body gives them being, for
they are eternal, and self-subsisting, as they will have it. Yea
and of themselves (though the case be otherwise with the Car-
tesian particles) undiminishable, as to their size, and, as to
their figure and weight, unalterable ; so that they have neither
their littleness, their roundness, nor their lightness, from the
body, but only their so happy meeting. Admit this, and only
suppose them to be met out of the body. And why may not
this b. thought supposable ? If they be not rational till they
be met, they cannot have wit enough to scruple meeting, at
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 15$
least somewhere else, than in the body. And who knows but
such a chance may happen ? As great as this, are by these
persons supposed to have happened, before the world could
have come to this pass it is now at ; who can tell but such a
number of the same sort of atoms (it being -natural for things so
much of a complexion and temper to associate and find out
one another) might ignorantly, and thinking no harm, come
together ? And having done so, why might they not keep to-
gether ? Do they need to be pent in ? How are they pent in,
whilst in the body ? If tin y be disposed, they have ways
enough to get out. And if they must needs be inclined to
scatter when the crasis of the body fails, surely a way might be
found to hem them in, if that be all, at the time of expiration,
more tightly and closely, than they could be in the bod v. And
what reason catf bo devised, why, being become rational, by
their having been assembled in the body, they may not a^ree
to hold together, and do so in spite of fate, ormaugre all ordi-
nary accidents, when they find it convenient to leave it ? And
then upon these no-way impossible suppositions, (according to
their principles, so far as can be understood, with whom we
have to do.) will (hey now be rational out of the body ? Being
still endowed (as they cannot but be) with the same high pri-
vileges of being little, round, and light, and being still also
together ;' and somewhat more, it may be, at liberty, to roll
and tumble, and mingle with one another, than in the body ?
Jf it be now affirmed, they will, in this case, be rational, at
least as long as they hold together, then we are but where we
were. And this shift hath but diverted us a little ; but so, as
it was easy to bring the matter, again, about, to the same point
■we were at before. Wherefore the shelter of the body being
thus quite again forsaken, this poor expulsed crew of dislodg-
ing atoms are exposed to fight in the open air, for their rati-
onality, against all that was said before.
But if this refuge and sanctuary of the body be not merely
pretended to, but really and plainly trusted in and stuck to,
then are we sincerely and honestly to consider what a body so
variously organized can do, to make such a party of atoms
(that of themselves are not so, singly, nor together) become
rational. And surely, if the cause were not saved before, it
is now deplorate, and lost without remedy. For what do they
find here that can thus, beyond all expectation, improve them
to so high an excellency ? Is it flesh, or blood, or bones,
that puts this stamp upon them ? Think, what is the substance
of the nobler parts, the liver, or heart, or brain, that thev
156 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PARTI.
should turn these, before, irrational atoms, when they fall
into them, into rational, any more than if they were well
soaked in a quagmire, or did insinuate themselves into a
piece of soft dough ? But here they meet with a benign and
kindly heat and warmth, which comfortably fosters and che-
rishes them, till at length it hath hatched them into rational.
But methinks they should be warm enough of themselves,
since they are supposed so much to resemble fire. And, how-
ever, wherein do we find a flame of fire more rational, than
a piece of ice ? Yea but here they find a due temper of moisture
as well as heat. And that surely doth not signify much ; for if
the common maxim be true, that the dry soul is the wisest,
they might have been much wiser, if they had kept them-
selves out of the body. And since it is necessary the soul
should consist of that peculiar sort of atoms before described ;
and the organical body (which must be said for distinction
sake, the soul being all this while supposed a body also) con-
sists of atoms too, that are of a much coarser alloy, methinks
a mixture should not be necessary, but a hinderance, and great
debasement, rather, to this rational composition. Besides,
that it cannot be understood, if it were necessary these atoms
should receive any tincture from the body, in order to their
being rational, what they can receive, or how they can receive
any thing. They have not pores that can admit an adven-
titious moisture, though it were of the divinest nectar, and
the body could ever so plentifully furnish them with it,
Wherein then lies the great advantage these atoms have by
being in the body, to their commencing rational ? If there be
such advantage, why can it not be understood? Why is it
not as-signed? Why should we further spend our guesses
what may possibly be said ? But yet, may not much be at-
tributed to the convenient and well fenced cavity of the brain's
receptacle, or the more secret chambers within that, where the
studious atoms may be very private and free from disturbance ?
let sure it is hard to say, why they that are wont to do it here,
might not. as well philosophize in some well-chosen cavern, or
hole of a rock ; nor were it impossible to provide them there t
v, if h as soft a bed. And yet would it not be some relief to speak
of the fine slender pipes, winding to and fro, wherein they
yiay be conveyed so conveniently from place to place, that
if they do not fall into a reasoning humour in one place, they
may in another ? Why, what can this do? It seems some-
what like Balaam's project, to gel into a vein of incantation,
by changing stations. And transplace them as you will, it
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 157
requires more magic than ever he was master of, to make those
innocent, harmless things, masters of reason.
For do but consider, what if you had a large phial capable
of as great a quantity as you can think needful, of very tine
particles, and, replenished with them, closely stopped, and
well luted ; suppose these as pure and fit for the purpose as
you can imagine, only not yet rational : will their faring to
and fro, through very close and stanch tubes, from one sucii
receptacle to another, make them at last become so ? It seems
then, do what you will with them, toss and tumble them hither
and thither, rack them from vessel to vessel, try what methods
you can devise of sublimation or improvement, every thing
looks like a vain and hopeless essay. For indeed, do what
you please or can think of, they are such immutable entities,
you can never make them less, or finer, than they originally
were : and rational they were not, before their meeting in ihe
body; wherefore it were a strange wonder, if that should so
far alter the case with them, that they should become rational
by it.
And now, I must, upon the whole, profess not to be well
pleased with the strain of this discourse ; not that I think it
unsuitable to its subject, (for I see not how it is fitly to be
dealt with in a more serious way,) but that I dislike ihe sub-
ject. And were it not that it is too obvious, how prone the
minds of some are to run themselves in-to any the grossest ab-
surdities rather than admit the plain and easy sentiments of re-
ligion ; it were miserable trifling to talk at this rate, and a loss
of time not to be endured. But when an unaccountable aver-
sion to the acknowledgment and adoration of the ever-blessed
Deity, hurries away men, affrighted and offended at the lustre
of his so manifest appearances, to take a bad, but the only
shelter the case can admit, under the wings of any the most
silly, foolish figment ; though the ill temper and dangerous
state of the persons is to be thought on with much pity, yet the
things which they pretend being in themselves ridiculous, if
we will entertain them into our thoughts at all, cannot fitly be
entertained but with derision. Nor doth it more unbecome a
serious person to laugh at what is ridiculous, than gravely to
weigh and ponder what is weighty and considerable ; provided
he does not seek occasions of that former sort, on purpose to
gratify a vain humour ; but only allow himself to discourse
suitably to them, when they occur. And their dotage who
would fain serve themselves of so wildly extravagant and im-
possible suppositions, for the fostering their horrid misbelief,
158 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PAltT L
that they have no (Hod to worship, would certainly justify as
sharp ironies, as the prophet Elijah bestows upon them who
worshipped Baal, instead of the true God.
(3.) Nor is any thing here said intended as a reflection on
sueh, as b^ing unfurnished with a notion of created, intelligent
spirits, that might distinguish their substance from the most
subtile matter, hare therefore thought thai their mind or think.
irig'pdwet might have some such substratum, unto which it is
super-added, or impressed thereon by a divine hand ; in the
mean time not. doubting their immortality > much less the ex-
istence of a Deity, the Author and Former of them, and all
things. For they are. no way guilty of that blasphemous non-
sense, to make tlieni consist of necessary^ self-subsistent mat-
ter, everj minute part ich whereof is judged eternal and im-
mutable, and in themselves, for aught we can find asserted,
destitute of reason ; aitd which yrt acquire it by no one knows
what coalition, without the help of a wise efficient, that shall
direct and order it to so unimaginable an improvement. These
persons do only think more refined matter capable of that im-
pression and stamp ; or of having such a power put info it, by
the Creator's all-disposing hand. Wherein, to do them right,
though, they should impose somewhat hardly upon themselves,
if they will make this estimate of the natural capacity of mat-
ter ; or if they think the acts and power of reason in man, al-
together unnatural to him ; yvt they do, in effect, the more
befriend the cause we are pleading tor • (as much as it can be
befriended by a mis-apprehension ; which yet is a thing of that
untoward genius, and. doth so ill consort with truth, that it
is never admitted as a friend, in any one respect; but it re-
pays it with a mischievous revenge, in some other, as might
many ways be shewn in this instance, if it were within the
compass of our present design :) it being evident, that if any
portion of matter shall indeed be certainly found the actual
subject of such powers, and to have such operations belong-
ing to if, there is the plainer and more undeniable necessity
and demonstration of his power and wisdom, who can make
any thing, of any thing; of stones raise up children to Abra-
ham ! and who shall then have done that which is so altogether
impossible, except to him to whom all things arc possible.
There is the more manifest need of his hand to heighten dull
matter, to a qriaKfiedness for performances, so much above its
nature; to make the loose and independent parts of so fluid
matter, cohere, and hold together ; that, if it were once made
capable of knowledge, and the actual subject of it; what so-
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 159
ever notions were impressed thereon, might not be, in a mo-
ment, confounded and lost : as indeed they could not but be,
it* the particles of matter were the immediate seat of reason ;
and so steady a hand did not hold them, in a settled compo-
sure, that s they be not disordered, and men have, thence, the
necessity of beginning afresh, to know any thing, every hour
of the day. Though yet it seems a great deal more reasonable,
to suppose the gouls of men to be of a substance in itself more
consistent, and more agreeable to our experience ; who find a
continual ebjnng and flowing of spirits, without being sensible
of any so notable and sudden changes in our knowledge, as
we could not but, thereupon, observe in ourselves : if they,
or any as fluid finer matter, were the immediate subjects of it.
It is therefore however sufficiently evident, and out of ques-
tion, that, the human soul (be its own substance what it will)
must have an efficient diverse from matter; which it was our
present intendment to evince.
2. Our way is clear to proceed to tlie second inquiry,
whether it be not also manifest, from the powers and operations
which belong to it as it is reasonable, that, it must have had an
intelligent efficient^ That is, since we find, and are assured,
that there is a sort of being in the world (yea somewhat of our-
selves, and that hath best right, of; any thing else about us,
to be called ourselves) that can think, understand, deliberate,
argue, &c. and which we can most certainly assure ourselves
(whether it were pre-* existent in any former state, or no) is not
an independent or uncaused being : and hath therefore been
the effect of some cause, whether it be not apparently the effect
of a wise cause ?
And tins, upon supposition of what hath been before proved,
seems not liable to any the least rational doubt. For it is al-
ready apparent, that it is not itself matter ; and 'u it were, it
is however the more apparent, that its cause is not matter ;
inasmuch, as if it be itself matter, its powers and operations
are so much above the natural capacity of matter, as that it
must have had a cause, so much more noble and of a more
perfect nature than that, as to be able to raise and improve it,
beyond the natural capacity of matter : which it was impossible
for that, itself, to do. Whence it is plain, it must have a cause
diverse from matter.
Wherefore this its immaterial cause must either be wise and
intelligent, or not so. But is it possible any man should ever
be guilty of a greater absurdity than to acknowledge some cer-
tain immaterial; agent, destitute of wisdom, the only cause
160 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PARTI.
and fountain of all that wisdom, that is, or hath ever been, in
the whole race of mankind. That is as much as to say, that
all the wisdom of mankind hath been caused "without a cause.
For it is the same thing, after we have acknowledged any
thing to be caused, to say it was caused by no cause, as to say
it was caused by such a cause, as hath nothing of that in it,
whereof we find somewhat to be in the effect. Nor can it
avail any thing, to speak of the disproportion or superior ex-
cellency in some effects to their second, or to their only partial
causes. As that there are sometimes learned children of un-
learned parents. For who did ever in (hat case say the pa-
rents were the productive causes of that learning ? Or of
them, as they were learned? Sure that learning comes from
some other cause. But shall it then be said, the souls of men
hav£ received their being from some such immaterial agent
destitute of wisdom ; and afterward, their wisdom and intel-
lectual ability came some other way ; by their own observa-
tion, or by institution and precept, from others ? Whence
then came their capacity of observing, or of receiving such
instruction ? Can any tiling naturally destitute even of semi-
nal reason, (as we may call it,) or of any aptitude or capacity
tending thereto, ever be able to make observations, or receive
instructions, whereby at length it may become rational ? And is
not that capacity of the soul of man a real something ? Or is there
no difference between being capable of reason and incapable ?
What, then, did this real something proceed from nothing ?
Or was the soul itself caused, and this its capacity, uncaused ?
Or was its cause, only, capable of intellectual perfection, but
not actually furnished therewith ? But if it were only capable,
surely its advantages for the actual attainment thereof have
been much greater than ours. Whence it were strange if that
capacity should never have come into act. And more strange, that
we should know, or have any ground to pretend, that it hath
not. But that there was an actual exercise of wisdom in the
production of the reasonable soul is most evident. For is it a
necessary being ? That we have proved it is not. It is there-
fore a contingent, and its being depended on a free cause, into
whose pleasure, only, it was resolvable, that it should be, or
not be ; and which therefore had a dominion over its own
acts. If this bespeak not an intelligent agent, what doth ?
And though this might also be said concerning every thing
else which is not necessarily, and so might yield a more ge-
neral argument to evince a free designing cause ; yet it con-
cludes with greater evidence concerning the reasonable soul,
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 161
whose powers and operations it is so manifestly impossible
should have proceeded from matter. And therefore even that
vain and refuted pretence itself, that other things might, by
the necessary laws of its motion, become what they are, can
have less place here. Whence it is more apparent that the
reasonable soul must have had a free and intelligent cause, that
used liberty and counsel, in determining that it should be,
and especially that it should be such a sort of thing as v/e
find it is. For when we see how aptly its powers and fa-
culties serve for their proper and peculiar operations, who that
is not besides himself can think that such a thing was made by
one that knew not what he was doing ? Or that such powers
were not given on purpose for such operations? And what is
the capacity, but a power that should sometime be reduced into
act, and arrive to the exercise of reason itself ?
Now was it possible any thing should give that power that
had it not any way ? That is, in the same kind, or in some
more excellent and noble kind ? For we contend not that this
Agent whereof we speak is in the strict and proper sense ra-
tional, taking that term to import an ability or faculty of in-
ferring what is less known from what is more. For we sup-
pose all things equally known to him, (which, so far as is re-
quisite to our present design, that is, the representing him
the proper object of religion, or of that honour which the de-
dication of a temple to him imports, we may in due time
come more expressly to assert,) and that the knowledge which
is with us the end of reasoning, is in him in its highest per-
fection, without being at all beholden to that means ; that
all the connexion of things with one another lie open to one
comprehensive view, and are known to be connected, but not
because they are so. We say, is it conceivable that man's
knowing power should proceed from a cause that hath it not,
in the same, or this more perfect kind ? And may use those
words to this purpose, not for their authority, (which we ex-
pect not should be here significant,) but for the convincing evi-
dence they carry with them, cc He that teacheth man know-
ledge, shall not he know ?" That we may drive this mat-
ter to an issue, it is evident the soul of man is not a necessary,
self-originate thing ; and had therefore some cause. We find
it to have knowledge, or the power of knowing, belonging to
it. Therefore we say, So had its cause. We rely not here
upon the credit of vulgar maxims, (whereof divers might bo
mentioned,) but the reason of them, or of the tiling itself we
VOL. I, Y
162 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PAIIT I.
allege. And do now speak of the whole, entire cause of this
being, the human soul, or of whatsoever is causal of it ; or
of any perfection naturally appertaining to it. It is of an in-
telligent nature. Did this intelligent nature proceed from an
unintelligent, as the whole and only cause of it ? That were
to speak against our own eyes, and most natural, common sen-
timents ; and were the same thing as to say that something
came of nothing. For it is all one to say so, and to say that
any thing communicated what it had not to communicate. Or
(which is alike madly absurd,) to say that the same thing Avas
such, and not such, intelligent, and not intelligent, able to
communicate an intelligent nature, (for sure what it doth it is
able to do,) and not able, (for it is not able to communicate what
it hath not,) at the same time.
It is hardly here worth the while to spend time in counter-*
mining that contemptible refuge, (which is as incapable of of-
fending us, as of being defended.) that human souls may per-
haps only have proceeded in the ordinary course of generation
from one another. For that none have ever said any thing to
that purpose deserving a confutation;, except that some sober
and pious persons, for the avoiding of some other difficulties,
have thought it more safe to assert the traduction of human
souls, who yet were far enough from imagining that they
could be total, or iirst causes to one another : and doubted not,
but they had the constant necessary assistance of that same
Being we are pleading for, acting in his own sphere, as the
first cause in all such, as well as any other productions.
Wherein they nothing oppose the main design of this discourse ;
and therefore it is not in our way to oiler at any opposition unto
them.
But if any have a mind to indulge themselves the liberty of
so much dotage as to say the souls of men were first and only
causes to one another ; either they must suppose them to be
material beings ; and then we refer them to what hath been
already said, shewing that their powers and operations can-
not belong to matter, nor arise from it; or immaterial^ and
then they cannot produce one another in the way of genera-
tion. For of what pre-existent substance are they made ?
Theirs who beget them ? Of that they can part with nothing,
separability, at least, of parts being a most confessed pro-
perty of matter. Or some other ? Where will they find that
other spiritual substance, that belonged not inseparably to
some individual being before I And besides, if it were pre"*
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 163
existent, as it must be if a soul be generated out of it, then
they were not the first and only causes of this production.
And in another way than that of generation, how will any form
the notion of making a soul ? Let experience and the making
of trial convince the speculators. By what power, or by what
art, will they make a reasonable soul spring up out of nothing ?
It might be hoped that thus, without disputing the possi-
bility of an eternal, successive production of souls, this shift
may appear vain. But if any will persist, and say, that how
or in what way soever they are produced, it is strange if they
need any nobler cause than themselves ; for may not any liv-
ing thing well enough be thought capable of producing ano-
ther of the same kind, of no more than equal perfection
with itself? To this we say, besides that no one living
thing is the only cause of another such ; yet if that were
admitted possible, what will it avail ? For hath every soul
that hath ever existed, or been in being, been produced, in
this wa} r , by another ? This it were ridiculous to say ; for if
every one were so produced, there was then some one. before
every one; inasmuch as that which produces, must surely
have been before that which is produced by it. But how can
every one have one before it ? A manifest contradiction in the
very terms ! For then there will be one without the compass
of every one. And how is it then said to be every one ? There
is then it seems one, besides, or more than all. And so all is
not all. And if this be thought a sophism, let the matter be
soberly considered thus. The soul of man is either a thing of
that nature universally (and consequently every individual
soul) as that it doth exist of itself, necessarily and indepen-
dently, or not. If it be, then we have, however, a wise in-
telligent being necessarily existing. The thing we have been
proving all this while. Yet this concession we will not ac-
cept, for though it is most certain there is such a being, we
have also proved the human soul is not it. Whence it is evi-
dently a dependent being, in its own nature, that could never
have been of itself, and consequently not at all, had it not
been put into being by somewhat else. And being so in
its own nature, it must be thus with every one that partakes of
this nature. And consequently it must be somewhat of another
nature that did put the souls of men into being. Otherwise,
the whole stock and lineage of human souls is said to have
been dependent on a productive cause, and yet had nothing
whereon to depend ; and so is both caused by another, and
not caused. And therefore since it is hereby evident it was
164; THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I*
somewhat else, and of another nature, than a human soul, by
which all human souls were produced into being: we again
say, that distinct being either was a dependent, caused being,
or not. If not, it being proved that the soul of man cannot
but have had an intelligent, or wise cause, we have now what
we seek — an independent, necessary, intelligent being, if it
do depend, or any will be so idle to say so ; that, however,
Will infallibly and very speedily lead us to the same mark.
For though some have been pleased to dream of an infinite
succession of individuals of this or that kind, I suppose we have
no dream as yet, ready formed, to come under confutation,
of infinite kinds or orders of beings, gradually superior, one
above another ; the inferior still depending on the superior,
and all upon nothing. And therefore, I conceive, Ave may
fairly take leave of this argument from the human soul, as hav-
ing gained from it sufficient evidence of the existence of a ne-
cessary being, that is intelligent, and designingly active, or
guided by wisdom and counsel, in what it doth.
We might also, if it were needful, further argue the same
thing from a power or ability manifestly superior to, and
that exceeds the utmost perfection of human nature, namely,
that of prophecy, or the prediction of future contingencies ;
yea, and from another that exceeds the whole sphere of
all created nature, and which crosses and countermands the
known and stated laws thereof, namely, that of working
miracles; both of them exercised with manifest design; as
might evidently be made appear, by manifold instances,
to as many as can believe any thing to be true, more than
what they have seen with their own eyes. And that do not
take present sense, yea and their own only, to be the alone
measure of all reality. But it is not necessary we insist upon
every thing that may be said, so that enough be said to serve our
present purpose.
Will. The subject of the preceding chapter continued;
and that our purpose may yet be more fully served, and
such a being evidenced to exist as we may with satisfaction
esteem to merit a temple with us, and the religion of it, it is
necessary, Ninthly, that we add somewhat concerning the
d/rine goodness ; for unto that eternal Being, whose existence
we have hitherto asserted, goodness also cannot but appertain ;
together with those his other attributes we have spoken of.
It is not needful here to be curious about the usual scholasti-
cal notions of goodness, or what it imports, as it is wont to be
attributed to being in the general, what, as it belongs in a pe-
3
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 165
culiar sense to intellectual beings, or what more special import
it may have, in reference to this. That which we at present
chiefly intend by it, is a propension to do good with delight;
or most freely, without other inducement than the agreeable-
ness of it to his nature who doth it ; and a certain delectation
and complacency, which, hence, is taken in so doing. The.
name of goodness (though thus it more peculiarly signifies the
particular virtue of liberality) is of a significancy large enough,
even in the moral acceptation, to comprehend all other per-
fections or virtues, that belong to, or may any way commend,
the will of a free agent. These therefore we exclude not ; and
particularly whatsoever is wont to be signified, as attributable
unto God, by the names of holiness, as a steady inclination
unto what is intellectually pure and comely, with an aversion
to the contrary ; justice, as that signifies an inclination to deal
equally, which is included in the former, yet as more express-
ly denoting what is most proper to a governor over others,
namely, a resolution not to let the transgression of laws, made
for the preservation of common order, pass without due ani-
madversion and punishment ; truth, whose signification also
may be wholly contained under those former more general
terms, but more directly contains sincerity, unaptness to de-
ceive, and constancy to one's word : for these may properly
be styled good things in a moral sense ; as many other things
might, in another notion of goodness, which it belongs not to
our present design to make mention of. But these are men-
tioned as more directly tending to represent to us an amiable
object of religion. And are referred hither, as they fitly
enough may, out of an unwillingness to multiply, without neces-
sity, particular heads or subjects of discourse.
In the mean time, as was said, what we principally intend,
is, That the Being whose existence we have been endeavour-
ing to evince, is good, as that imports a ready inclination of
will to communicate unto others what may be good to them ;
creating, first, its own object, and then issuing forth to it, in
acts of free beneficence, suitable to the nature of every thing
created by it. Which, though it be the primary or first thing
carried in the notion of this goodness, yet because that incli-
nation is not otherwise good than as it consists with holi-
ness, justice, and truth, these therefore may be esteemed se-
condarily, at least, to belong to it, as inseparable qualifications
thereof.
Wherefore it is not a merely natural and necessary emana-
tion we here intend, that prevents any act or exercise of couu-
166 THE LIVING TEMPLE* PART I-
sel or design ; which would no way consist with the liberty of
the Divine will, and would make the Deity as well a necessary
Agent, as a necessary Being ; yea, and would therefore make
all the creatures merely natural and necessary emanations, and
so destroy the distinction of necessary and contingent beings :
and, by consequence, bid fair to the making all things God.
It would infer not only the eternity of the world, but would
seem to infer either the absolute infinity of it, or the perfection
of it, and of every creature in it, to that, degree, as that nothing
could be more perfect in its own kind, than it is ; or would in-
fer the finiteness of the Divine Being. For it would makewh t
he hath done the adequate measure of what he can do, and
Would make all his administrations necessary, yea, and all the
actions of men, and consequently take away all law and go-
vernment out of the world, and all measures of right and wrong,
and make all punitive justice, barbarous cruelty : and conse-
quently, give us a notion of goodness, at length, plainly in-
consistent with itself.
All this is provided against, by our having first asserted the
wisdom of that Being, whereunto we also attribute goodness;
which guides all the issues of it, according to those measures
or rules which the essential rectitude of the divine will gives, or
rather is, unto it : whereby also a foundation is laid of answer-
ing such cavils against the divine goodness, as they are apt to
raise to themselves, who are wont to magnify this attribute to
the suppression of others ; which is, indeed, in the end, to
magnify it to nothing. And such goodness needs no other de-
monstration, than the visible instances and effects we have of it
in the creation and conservation of this world ; and particular-
ly, in his large, munificent bounty and kindness towards man,
whereof his designing him for his temple and residence, will be
a full and manifest proof.
And of all this, his own seir-sufficient fulness leaves it im-
possible to us to imagine another reason, than the delight he
takes in dispensing his own free and large communications*
Besides, that when we see some semblances and imitations of
this goodness in the natures of some men, which we arc sure are
not nothing, they must needs proceed from something, and have
some fountain and original, which can be no other than the
common Cause and Author of all things. In whom therefore,
this goodness doth firstly and most perfectly reside.
CHAP, IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 167
CHAP. IV.
J, Generally all supposable perfection asserted of this Being, where,
First, A being absolutely perfect is endeavoured to be evinced from
the (already proved) necessary being, which is shewn to import, in.
the general, the utmost fulness of being. Also divers things in par-
ticular that tend to evince that genera!. 1. As that it is at the re-
motest distance from no being. 2. Most purely actual. S. Most ab-
stracted being. 4. The productive and conserving cause of all things
else. 5. Undiminishable. 6. Incapable of addition. Secondly, Hence
is more expressly deduced, 1. The infiniteness of this being. II. An
inquiry whether it be possible the creature can be actually infinite?
III. Difficulties concerning the absolute fulness and infinileness of God
considered. 2, The onlinees of this Being. The Trinity not thereby
excluded.
I. QOME account hath been thus far given of that Being,
C3 whereunto we have been designing to assert the ho-
nour of a temple. Each of the particulars having been seve-
rally insisted on, that concur to make up that notion of this
being, which was at first laid down. And more largely, what
hath been more opposed, by persons of an atheistical or irre-
ligious temper. But because, in that lore-mentioned account
of God, there was added to the particulars there enumerated
(out of a just consciousness of human inability to comprehend
every thing that may possibly belong to him) this general sup-
plement, " That all other supposable excellencies whatso-
ever, do in the highest perfection appertain also originally
unto this Being," it is requisite that somewhat be said concern-
ing this addition. Especially in as much as it comprehends
in it, or may infer, some things (not yet expressly men-
tioned) which may be thought necessary to the evincing the
reasonableness of religion, or our self-dedication as a temple
to him.
For instance, it may possibly be alleged, that if it were ad-
mitted there is somewhat that is eternal, uncaused, independ-
ent, necessarily existent, that is self-active, living, powerful,
wise, and good ; yet all this will not infer upon us a universal
obligation to religion, unless it can also be evinced, That this
Being is every way sufficient to supply and satisfy all our real
wants and just desires. And, That this Being is but one, and
16$ THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART f.
so that all beat a certainty where their religion ought to ter-
minate ; and that the worship of every temple must concentre
and meet in the same object. Now the eviction of an abso-
lutely perfect Being would include each of these ; and answer
both the purposes which may seem hitherto not so fully satis-
fied. It is therefore requisite that we endeavour,
First, To shew that the Being hitherto described is absolutely
or every way perfect ; and,
Seco?idly> To deduce, from the same grounds, the absolute
infinity, and the unity or the onliness thereof.
And for the first part of this undertaking, it must be ac-
knowledged absolute or universal perfection cannot be pretend-
ed to have been expressed in any, or in all the works of God
together. Neither in number, for aught we know, (for as we
cannot conceive, nor consequently speak, of divine perfections,
but under the notion of many, whatsoever their real identity
may be, so we do not know, but that within the compass of
universal perfection there may be some particular ones, of
which there is no footstep in the creation, and whereof we
have never formed any thought,) nor (more certainly )' w de-
gree; for surely the world, and the particidar creatures in it,
are not so perfect in correspondence to those attributes of its
great Architect, which we have mentioned, namely, his power,
wisdom, and goodness, as he might have made them, if he had
pleased. And indeed, to say the world were absolutely and uni-
versally perfect, were to make that God.
Wherefore it must also be acknowledged that an absolutely
perfect Being cannot be immediately demonstrated from its
effects, as whereto they neither do, nor is it within the capa-
city of created nature that they can, adequately correspond.
Whence therefore, all that can be done for the evincing of the
absolute and universal perfection of God, must be in some other
way or method of discourse.
Aj\d though it be acknowledged that it cannot be immediate-
ly evidenced from the creation, yet it is to be hoped that medi-
ately it. may. For from thence (as we have seen) a necessary
self-originate being, such as hath been described, is, with the
greatest certainty, to be concluded ; and, from thence, if we
attentively consider, Ave shall be led to an absolutely perfect
one. That is, since we have the same certainty of such a ne-
cessary self-originate being, as we have that there is any thing
existent at all. If we seriously weigh what kind of being this
must needs be, or what its notion must import, above what
hath been already evinced ; we shall not be found, in
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE* 169
this way, much to fall short of our present ainij though we
have also other evidence that may be produced in its own tit-
ter place.
Here therefore let us a while make a stand, and more dis-
tinctly consider how far we are already advanced, that we may
with the better order and advantage make our further pro-
gress.
These two things then are already evident. That there is a
necessary being that hath been eternally of itself, without de-
pendence upon any tiling, either as a productive or conserving
cause ; and, of itself, full of activity and vital energy, so as
to be a productive and sustaining cause, to other things. Of
this any the most confused and indistinct view of this world, or
a mere taking notice that there is any thing in being that lives
and moves, and withal that alters and changes, (which it is
impossible the necessary being itself should do,) cannot but
put us out of doubt. And, that this necessary self-originate,
vital, active being hath very vast power, admirable wisdom,
and most free and large goodness belonging to it. And of this,
our nearer and more deliberate view and contemplation of
the word do equally ascertain us. For of these things we find
the manifest prints and footsteps in it. Yea, we find the
derived things themselves, power, Avisdom, goodness, in the
creatures : and we arc most assured they have not sprung from
nothing : nor from any thing that had them not. And that
which originally had them, or was their first fountain; must
have them necessarily and essentially, (together with whatso-
ever else belongs to its being,) in and of itself. So that the
asserting of any other necessary being, that is in itself destitute
of these things, signifies no more towards the giving any ac-
count how these things came to be in the world, than if no
being, necessarily existing, were asserted at all. We are
therefore, by the exigency of the case itself, constrained to
acknowledge, not only that there is a necessary being, but
that there is such a one as could be, and was, the fountain and
cause of all those several kinds and degrees of being and per-
fection that we take notice of in the world besides. Another
sort of necessary being should not only be asserted to no pur-
pose, there being nothing to be gained by it, no imaginable use
to be made of it, as a principle that can serve any valuable
end ; (for suppose such a thing as necessary matter, it will, as
hath been shewn, be unalterable ; and therefore another sort of
matter must be supposed besides it, that may be the matter of
the universe, raised up out of nothing for that, purpose, unto
VOL. I. 7.
170 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
which this so unwieldy and unmanageable an entity, can never
serve;) but also it will be impossible to be proved. No man
can be able with any plausible shew of reason to make it out.
Yea, and much may be said, I conceive with convincing evi-
dence, against it. As may perhaps be seen in the sequel of this
discourse.
In the mean time, that there is, however, a necessary being,
unto which all the perfections whereof we have any footsteps
or resemblances in the creation do originally and essentially
belong, is undeniably evident.
Now, that we may proceed, what can self-essentiate, unde-
rived power, wisdom, goodness, be, but most perfect power,
Wisdom, goodness? Or such, as than which there can never
be more perfect ? For since there can be no wisdom, power,
or goodness, which is not either original and self-essentiate,
or derived and participated from thence; who sees not that the
former must be the more perfect ? Yea, and that it compre-
hended all the other (as what was from it) in itself, and con-
sequently that it is simply the most perfect ? And the reason
Will be the same, concerning any other perfection, the stamps-
and characters whereof we find signed upon the creatures.
Hut that the being unto which these belong is absolutely
and universally perfect in every kind, must be further evi-
denced by considering more at large the notion and import of
such a self-originate necessary being.
Some indeed, both more anciently,* and of late, have in-
verted this course; and from the supposition of absolute per-
fection, have gone about to infer necessity of existence, as
being contained in the idea of the former. But of this latter
we are otherwise assured upon clearer and less exceptionable
terms. And being so, are to consider what improvement may
be made of it to our present purpose.
And in the general, this seems manifestly imported in the
notion of the necessary being we have already evinced, that it
have in it (some way or other, in what way there will be occa-
sion to consider hereafter) the entire sum and utmost fulness of
being, beyond which or without the compass whereof no
* So that whatever there is of strength in that way of arguing, the glory
of it cannot be without injury appropriated to the present age, much less
to any particular person therein : it having, since Anselm, been venti-
lated by divers others heretofore. D. Scot. dist. 2. Q. 2. Th. Aquin. P. 1.
Q. 2. art. 1. contra CTentil. 1. 1. c. 10. Bradwardin, 1. 1. c. 1. And by di-
vers of late, as is sufficiently known, some rejecting, others much con-
fiding in it, both of these former, and of modern write) 3.
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 171
perfection is conceivable, or indeed (which is of the same im-
port) nothing.
Let it be observed, that Ave pretend not to argue this from
the bare terms necessary being- only, but from hence, that it
is such as we have found it ; though indeed these very terms
import not a little to this purpose. For that which is necessa-
rily of itself, without being beholden to any thing, seems as
good as all things, and to contain in itself an immense fulness,
being indigent of nothing. Nor by indigence is here meant
cravingness, or a sense of want only ; in opposition whereto,
every good and virtuous man hath or may attain a sort of
avrd^tia, or self-fulness, and be satisfied from bin- self : (which
yet is a stamp of divinity, and a part of the image of God,
or such a participation of the divine nature, as is agreeable to
the state and condition of a creature :) but we understand by
it (what is naturally before that) want itself really, and not
in opinion, as the covetous is said to be poor. On the other
hand, we here intend not a merely rational, (much less an ima-
ginary,) but a real self-fulness. .And so we say, what is of that
nature, that it is, and subsists wholly and only of itself, with-
out depending on any other, must owe this absoluteness to
so peculiar an excellency of its own nature, as we cannot
well conceive to be less than whereby it comprehends iii
itself the most boundless and unlimited fulness of being, life,
power, or whatsoever can be conceived under the name of a
perfection. For taking notice of the existence of any thing
whatsoever, some reason must be assignable, whence it is that
this particular being doth exist, and hath such and such pow-
ers and properties belonging to it, as do occur to our notice
therein. When we can now resolve its existence into some
cause that put it into being, and made it what it is, we cease
so much to admire the thing, how excellent soever it be, and
turn our admiration upon its cause, concluding it to have all the
perfection in it which we discern in the effect, whatsoever un-
known perfection (which we may suppose is very great) it may
have besides. And upon this ground we are led, when we be-
hold the manifold excellencies that lie dispersed among parti-
cular beings in this universe, with the glory of the whole re-
sulting thence, to resolve their existence into a common cause,
which we design by the name of God. And now considering
him as'a wise Agent, (which hath been proved,) and conse-
quently a free one, that acted not from any necessity of nature,
but his mere good pleasure herein, we will not only conclude
him to have all that perfection and excellency in him which
173 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PARTI.
We find Mm to have displayed in so vast and glorious a work,
but will readily believe him (supposing Ave have admitted a
conviction concerning what hath been discoursed before) to
have a most inconccivabletrcasure of hidden excellency and per-
fection in him, that is not represented to our view in this work
of his : and account, that he who could do all this which we
see is done, could do unspeakably more. For though, speak-
ing of natural and necessitated agepts, which always act totheir
uttennost, it would be absurd to argue from their having done
some lesser thing, to their power of doing somewhat that is
much greater ; yet as to free agents, that can choose their
own act, and guide themselves by wisdom and judgment there-
in, the matter is not so. As when some great prince bestows a
rich largess upon some mean person, especially that deserved
nothing from him, or was recommended by nothing to his
royal favour, besides his poverty and misery ; we justly take
it for a very significant demonstration of that princely munifi-
cence and bounty, which Mould incline him to do much greater
things, when he should see- a proportionable cause.
But now, if taking notice of the excellencies that appear in
caused beings, and inquiring how they come to exist and be
what they are, we resolve all into their cause ; which, consi-
dering as perfectly free and arbitrary in alibis communications,
we do thence rationally conclude, that if he had thought fit,
he could have made a much more pompous display of him-
self; and that there is in him, besides what appears, a vast and
most abundant store of undiscovered perfection.
When next we turn our inquiry and contemplation more
entirely upon the cause, and bethink ourselves, But how
came he to exist and be what he is ? Finding this cannot be
refunded upon any superior cause ; and our utmost inquiry can
admit of no other result but this, that he is of himself what he
is, we will surely say then, He is all in all. And that perfec-
tion which before we judged vastly great, we will now conclude
altogether absolute, and such beyond which no greater can be
thought.
Adding, I say, to What pre-conceptions we had of his
gte'atness , from the works which we see have been done by him,
(for why should we lose any ground we might esteeem ourselves
to have gained before ?) the consideration of his necessary self-
subs sfenee : and that no other reason is assignable of his being
what be is, but the peculiar and incommunicable excellency of
his own nature ; whereby he was not only able to make such a
a world, but did possess eternally and invariably in himseli
9
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 173
all that he is, and hath : we cannot conceive that all to be less
than absolutely universal, and comprehensive of whatsoever
can lie within the whole compass of being.
For when we find that among all other beings, (which is most
certainly true not only of actual, but all possible beings also,)
how perfect soever they arc or may be in their own kinds,
none of them, nor all of them together, are or ever can be of
that perfection, as to be of themselves without dependence pa
somewhat else as their productive, yea and sustaining cause %
we see besides, that their cause hath all the perfection, some
way, in it that is to be found in them all : there is also thai ap-
propriate perfect ion belonging thereto, that it could be; and
eternally is (yea and could not But be) only of itself, by the
underived and incommunicable excellency of its own being.
And surely, what includes in it all the perfection of all actual
and possible beings, besides its own, (for there is nothing possible
which some cause, yea and even this, cannot produce,) and
inconceivably more, must needs be absolutely and every way
perfect. Of all which perfections this is the radical one, that
belongs to this common Cause and Author of all things, that he
is necessarily and only self-subsisting. For if this high prero-
gative in point of being had been wauling, nothing at all had
ever been. Therefore we attribute to God the greatest thing
that can be said or thought, (and not what is wholly diverse
from all other perfection, but which contains all others in it,)
when we affirm of him that he is necessarily of himself. For
though when Ave have bewildered and lost ourselves (as we
soon may) in the contemplation of this amazing subject, we
readily indulge our wearied minds the ease and liberty of re-
solving this high excellency of self or necessary existence into
a mere negation, and say that we mean by it nothing else than
that he was not from another ; yet surely, if we would take
some pains with ourselves, and keep our slothful shifting
thoughts to some exercise in this matter, though we can never
comprehend that vast fulness of perfection which is imported
in it, (for it were not what we plead for, if we could compre-
hend it,) y(tt we should soon see and confess that it contains
unspeakably more than a negation, even some great thing that
is so much beyond our thoughts, that we shall reckon we have
said but a little in saying we cannot conceive it. And that,
when we have stretched our understandings to the utmost of their
line and measure, though we may suppose ourselves to have
conceived a great deal, there is infinitely more that we con*
ceive not.
174 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
Wherefore that is a sober and most important truth which is
occasionally drawn forth (as is supposed) from the so admired
Des Cartes, by the urgent objections of his very acute, friendly
adversary,* that the inexhaustible power of God is the reason
for which he needed no cause ; and that since that unexhausted
power, or the immensity of his essence, is most highly posi-
tive, therefore he may be said to be of himself positively, that
is, not as if he did ever by any positive efficiency cause him-
self (which is most manifestly impossible) but that the positive
excellency of his own being was such, as could never need,
nor admit of, being caused.
And that seems highly rational, (which is so largely insisted
on by Doctor Jackson, and divers others,t) that what is with-
out cause must also be without limit of being ; because all limit-
ation proceeds from the cause of a thing, which imparted to it
so much and no more ; which argument, though it seems
neglected by Des Cartes, and is opposed by his antagonist ; yet
I cannot but judge the longer one meditates, the less he shall
understand, how any tiling can be limited ad intra, or from
itself, &c. As the author of the Tenlam. Phys. Theol. speaks.
But that we may entertain ourselves with some more parti-
cular considerations of this necessary being, which may evince
that general assertion of its absolute plenitude or fulness of
essence :
1. It appears to be such as is at the greatest imaginable dis-
tance from non-entity. For what can be at a greater, than
that which is necessarily, which signifies as much as whereto
not to be is utterly impossible ? Now an utter impossibility
not to be, or the uttermost distance from wo being, seems plainly
to imply the absolute plenitude of all being. And, if here it.
be said that to be necessarily and of itself needs be understood
to import no more than a firm possession of that being which a
thing hath, be it ever so scant or minute a portion of being ;
1 answer, it seems indeed so, if Ave measure the significa-
tion of this expression by its first and more obvious appear-
ance. Cut if you consider the matter more narrowly, you will
find here is also signified the nature and kind of the being pos-
sessed, as well as the manner of possession, namely, that it is
a being of so excellent and noble a kind, as that it can subsist
alone without being beholden : which is so great an excel-
lency, as that it manifestly comprehends all other, or is the
* Ad ob. in Med. resp. quartae.
t Of the Essence and Attributes of God.
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 175
foundation of all that can be conceived besides. Whichj they
that fondly dream of necessary matter, not considering, un-
warily make one single atom a more excellent thing than the
whole frame of heaven and earth : that being supposed simply
necessary, this the merest piece of hap-hazard, the strangest
chance imaginable, and beyond what any but themselves could
ever have imagined. And which, being considered, would
give us to understand that no minute or finite being can be ne-
cessarily.
And hence Ave may sec what it is to be nearer, or at a further
distance from not-being.
For these things that came contingently into being, or at the
pleasure of a free cause, have all but a finite and limited be-
ing, whereof some, having a smaller portion of being than
others, approach so much the nearer to not-being. Proportion-
ably, what hath its being necessarily and of itself, is at the
farthest distance from no-being, as comprehending all being in
itself. Or, to borrow the expressions of an elegant writer,
translated into our own language,* " We have much more non-
essense than cssense ; if we have the essence of a man, yet not
of the heavens, or of angels." " We are confined and li-
mited Avithin a particular essence, but God, who is what he is,
comprehendeth all possible essences."
Nor is this precariously spoken, or as Avhat may be hoped to
be granted upon courtesy. But let the matter be rigidly ex-
amined and discussed, and the certain truth of it Avill most
evidently appear. For if any thing be, in this sense, remoter
than other from no-being, it must either be, Avhat is necessarily
of itself, or Avhat is contingently at the pleasure of the other.
But since nothing is, besides that self- origin ate necessary be-
ing, but Avliat Avas from it ; and nothing from it but Avhat Avas
Avithin its productive poAver; it is plain all that, Avith its OAvn
being, Avas contained in it. And therefore, even in that sense,
it is at the greatest distance from no-being ; as comprehending
the utmost fulness of being in itself, and consequently abso-
lute perfection. Which will yet further appear, in what
IbllOAVS.
2. We therefore add, that necessary being is most unmixed
or purest being, Avithout allay. That is pure Avhich is full of
itself. Purity is not here meant in a corporeal sense, nor in the
moral ; but as, with metaphysicians, it signifies simplicity of
essence. And in its present use is more especially intended to
* Causin.
176 THE LIVIXG TEMPLE. PART U
signify that simplicity which is opposed to the composition of
set and possibility. We sr> y tlien, that necessary being im-
ports purest actuality ; which is the ultimate and highest per-
fection of being. For it signifies no remaining possibility, yet
unreplete or not filled up, and consequently the fullest exu-
berancy and entire confluence of all being, as in its fountain
and original source. We need not here look further to evince
this, than the native import of the very terms themselves;
necessity and possibility ; the latter whereof is not so fitly said
to be excluded the former, as contingency is, but to be swal-
lowed up of it ; as fulness takes up all the space which were
otherwise nothing but vacuity or emptiness. It is plain then
that necessary being engrosses all possible being, both that is,
and (for the same reason) that ever was so. lor nothing can
be, or ever was, in possibilily to come into being, but what
either must spring, or hath sprung, from the necessary self-
subsisting being.
80 that unto all that vast possibility, a proportionable actu-
ality of this being must be understood to correspond. Else
tiie other were not possible. For nothing is possible to be
produced which is not within the actual productive power of
the necessary being : I say within its actual productive power ;
for if its power for such production were not already actual, it
could never become so, and so were none at all : inasmuch as
necessary being can never alter, and consequently can never
come actually to be what it already is not ; upon which account
it is truly said, In cetcrnis posse <$' esse sunt idem. — In eternal
things, to be capable of being and to be are the same thing.
Wherefore in it, is nothing else but pure actuality, as profound
and vast as is the utmost possibility of all created or producible
being ; that is, it can be nothing other than it is, but can do all
things, of which more hereafter,. It therefore stands opposed,
not only, more directly, to impossibility of being, which is the
most proper notion of no-being, but some way, even to possi-
bility also. That is, the possibility of being any thing but
what it is ; as being cyery way complete and perfectly full
already.
3. Again, we might further add, that it is the most abstract-
ed being, or is being in the very abstract. A thing much in-
sisted on by some of the schoolmen. And the notion which
with much obscurity they pursue after their manner, may
carry some such sense as this, (if it may, throughout, be called
sense.) that whereas no created nature is capable of any other
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 177
than mere mental abstraction, but exists always in concretion
with some subject, that, be it ever so refined, is grosser and
less perfect than itself; so that we can distinguish the mentally
abstracted essence 3 and the thing which hath that essence ; by
which concretion, essence is limited, and is only the particular
essence of this or that thing, which hath or possesses that es-
sence. The necessary being is, in strict propriety, not so
truly said to have essence, as to be it, and exist separately by
itself ; not as limited to this or that thing. Whence it is, in
itself, universal essence, containing therefore, not formally,
but eminently, the being of all things in perfect simplicity.
Whence all its own attributes are capable of being affirmed of
it in the abstract,* that it is wisdom, power, goodness; and
not only hath these, and that upon this account it is a being,
which is necessarily and of itself. For that which is necessarily
and of itself, is not whatsoever it is by the accession of any
thing to itself, whereof necessary being is incapable; but by
its own simple and un variable essence. Other being is upon
such terms powerful, wise, yea, and existent, as that it may
cease to be so. Whereas to necessary being, it is manifestly
repugnant, and impossible either simply not to be, or to be
any thing else but what and as it is. And though other things
may have properties belonging to their essence not separable
from it, yet they are not their very essence itself. And, whereas
they are in a possibility to lose their very existence, the knot
and ligament of whatsoever is most intimate to their actual
being, all then falls from them together. Here, essence, pro-
perties, and existence, are all one simple thing that can never
cease, decay, or change, because the whole being is necessary,
Now, all this being supposed, of the force of that form of
speech, when we affirm any thing in the abstract of another,
we may admit the common sense of men to be the interpreter.
* To which purpose we may take notice of the words of one, not the
less worthy to be named, for not being reckoned of that forcmentioncd
order. Si enim denominative de eo quippiam praedicaretur abstractum
esset turn aliud ab ipso, turn ipso prius. Quod sane impium est, quare
neque ens est sed essentia, ncque bonus sed bonitas est — If any quality
were to be affirmed concerning the Deity, in expressions derived from
an abstract term, the idea answering to that abstract term would be both
distinct in existence from him and prior to him; which would certainly
be impious. Jt follows therefore that the Deity is not so properly some-
thing possessed of an essence, as the essence itself; not so properly a
being possessed of goodness, as goodness itself. Julius Scalier, Excrc*
365.
VOL. I. 2 A
ITS THE LIVING TEMPLE. PARTI.
For every body can fell, though they do not know the mean-
ing of the word abstract, what we intend when we use that
phrase or manner of speaking. As when we say, by way of
hyperbolical commendation, Such a man is not only learned,
but learning itself; or he not only hath much of virtue, justice,
and goodness in him, but he is virtue, justice, and goodness
itself, (as was once said of an excellent Pagan virtuoso, that 1
may borrow leave to use that word in the moral sense,) every
one knows the phrase intends the appropriating all learning,
virtue, justice, goodness, to such a one. Which, because they
know unappropriable to any man, they easily understand it to
be, in such a case, a rhetorical strain and form of speech. And
yet could not know that, if also they did not understand its
proper and native import. And so it may as well be under-
stood what is meant by saying of God, He is being itself.
With which sense may be reconciled that of (the so named)
Dionysius the Areopagite ; * that God is not so properly said
to be of, or be in, or to have, or partake, of being, as that it
is of him, &c. Inasmuch as he is the pre-existent Being to all
being ; that is, if we understand him to mean all besides his
own. In which sense taking being for that which is commu-
nicated and imparted, he may truly be said, (as this author
and the Platonists generally speak, Proclus in Plat. Theol.
1. 2, c. 4.) to be super-essential or super-substantial. But
how fitly being is taken in that restrained sense, we may saj
more hereafter.
In the mean time, what hath been said concerning this ab-
stractedness of the necessary being, hath in it some things so
unintelligible, and is accompanied with so great (unmentioned)
difficulties, (which it would give us, perhaps, more labour
than profit to discuss,) and the absolute perfection of God ap-
pears so eyidenccable otherwise, by what hath been and may be
further said, that we are no way concerned to lay the stress of
the cause on this matter only.
4. Moreover, necessary being is the cause and author of all
being besides. Whatsoever is not necessary, is caused ; for
not having being of itself, it must be put into being by some-
* Kati xvro 5'e To zhxi ex th Wfocvi®^, xxi xvtS lurt ot to tivxi, xxi hx
civtos tS slvxi, xxi h a.vru lari to ilvxt, xxi sx avlos ev tw tivxi, xxi xvro*
sj^fiTo tlyxi, xxi in xvros t%ei to uvxi — His very being is of himself, as
previously possessed of being ; being is of him, and not heof being ; being
is in him, and not he in being; and being hath him, more properly than
he hath being. Dt Divi/ris numin. Co. b.
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 179
what else. And inasmuch as there is no middle sort of being
betwixt necessary and not necessary, and all that is not neces-
sary is caused, it is plain that Which is necessary must be the
cause of all the rest. And surely what is the cause of all being
besides its own, must needs, one way or other, contain its
own and all other in itself, and is consequently comprehensive
of the utmost fulness of being ; or is the absolutely perfect
being, (as must equally be acknowledged,) unless any one
would imagine himself to have got the notice of some perfection
tliat lies without the compass of all being.
Nor is it an exception worth the mentioning, that there may
be a conception of possible being or perfection, which the ne-
cessary being hath not caused. For it is, manifestly, as well
the possible cause of all possible being and perfection, as the
actual cause of what is actual. And what it is possible to it to
produce, it hath within its productive power, as hath been said
before.
And if the matter did require it, we might say further, that
the same necessary being which hath been the productive
cause," is also the continual root and basis of all being, which
1s not necessary. For what is of itself, and cannot, by the
special privilege of its own being, but be, needs nothing to
sustain it, or needs not trust to any thing besides its own eternal
stability. But what is not so, seems to need a continual repro-
duction every moment, and to be no more capable of continu-
ing in being by itself, than it was, by itself, of coming into
being. For (as is frequently alleged by that so often mention-
ed author) since there is no connexion betwixt the present and
future time, but what is easily capable of rupture, it is no way
consequent that, because I am now, I shall therefore be the
next moment, further than as the free Author of my being
shall be pleased to continue his own most arbitrary influence,
for my support. This seems highly probable to be true,
whether that reason signify any thing or nothing. And that,
thence also, continual conservation differs not from creation.
Which, whether (as is said by the same author) it be one of
the things that are manifest by natural light, or whether a po-
sitive act be needless to the annihilation of created things, but
only the withholding of influence, let them examine that ap-
prehend the cause to need it. And if, upon inquiry, they
judge it at least evidenceable by natural light to be so, (as I
doubt not they will,) they will have this further ground upon
which thus to reason : that, inasmuch as the necessary being
subsists wholly by itself, and is that whereon all other doth
ISO THE LIVING TEMPLE. PAHT I.
totally depend, it hereupon follows, that it must, some way,
contain in itself all being-. We may yet further add,
5. That the necessary being we have evinced, though it hath
caused and doth continually sustain all things, yet doth not
its( U in the mean time suffer any diminution. It is not possible,
nor consistent with the \cry terms necessary being, that it
can. It is true, that if such a thing as a necessary atom were
admitted, that would be also undiminishable, it were not else
an atom. But as nothing then can flow from it, as from a per-
fect parvitude nothing can, so it can effect nothing. And the
reason is the same of many as of one. Nor would undiminish-
ablcness, upon such terms, signify any thing to the magnifying
the value of such a trifle.
■ But this is none of the present case : for our eyes fell us
here is a world in beine*. which we are sure is not itself neces-
O 7
sarily ; and was therefore made by him thai is. And that, with-
out mutation or change in him : against which the very notion
of a necessary being is most irreconcilably reluctant ; and there-
fore without diminution, which cannot be conceived without
change. *
Wherefore how inexhaustible a fountain of life, being, and
all perfection, have we here represented to our thoughts ! from
whence this vast universe is sprung, and is continually spring-
ing, and that in the mean time receiving no recruits or foreign
supplies, yet suffers no impairment or lessening of itself!
What is this bat absolute all-fulness ! And it is so far from ar-
guing any deficiency or mutability in his nature, that there is
this continual issue of power and virtue from him, that it de-
monstrates its high excellency that this can be wifhout decay
or mutation. For of all this, we are as certain as we can be
of any thing: that manv things are not necessarily, that the
bring must be necessary from whence all things else proceed,
and that with necessary being change is inconsistent. It is
therefore unreasonable to entertain any doubt that things are so,
which most evidently appear to be so, only because it is beyond
our measure and compass to apprehend Jwio they arc so.
And it would be to doubt, against our own eyes, whether
there be any such thing as motion in the world, or com-
* 'Ev 5s ray}*}T»i %og£ix, xti§if£ myw fj.lv ^uw, wwyMv Vs vh, «fX** ov7©-,
uyx^a ciirt'xv, pl^zv -^v^ys tsx. sK^to/xtvuv ccrf a.vru ov tytivu* IXx-rltsvTCD*—
In this harmonic arrangement, behold the fountain both of life and of
intellect, the beginning of all that exists, the efficient cause of good ;
■while neither he, nor those primordial principles themselves, are capable
of any diminution. Flotinus Enn. 6- I. (). c. o.
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. ISl
position of bodies, because we cannot give a clear account,
so as to avoid all difficulties, and the entanglement °f Uie
common sophisms about them, how these things are per-
formed. In the present case, Ave have no difficulty but what
is to be resolved into the perfection of the Divine Nature, and
the imperfection of our own. And how easily conceivable is
it, that somewhat may be more perfect, than that we e:;n con-
ceive it. If we cannot conceive the maimer of God's causa-
tion of things, or the nature of his causative influence, it only
shews their high excellency, and gives us the more ground
(since this is that into which both his own revelation and the
reason of things most naturally lead us to resolve all) to admire
the mighty efficacy of his all-creating and alt-sustaining will
and word ; that in that easy unexpensive way, by his mere fiat,
so great tilings should be performed.
G. We only say further, that this necessary Being is such to
which nothing can be added ; so as that it should be really greater,
or better, or more perfect, than it was before. And this not only
signifies that nothing can b:^ joined io it, so as to become apart
of it, (which necessary being, by its natural immutability, mani-
festly refuses,) but we also intend by it, that all things else, with
it, contain not more of real perfection than it doth alone. Which,
though it carries a difficulty with it that we intend not wholly
to overlook when it shall be seasonable to consider it, is a most
apparent and demonstrable truth. For it is plain that all be-
ing and perfection which is not necessary, proceeds from that
which is, as the cause of it ; and that no cause could commu-
nicate any thing to another which it had not, some way, in
itself. Wherefore it is manifestly consequent that all other
being was wholly before comprehended in that which is ne-
cessary, as having been wholly produced by it. And what is
wholly comprehended of another, that is, within its productive
power, before it be produced, can be no real addition to it,
when it is.
Now what can be supposed to import fulness of being and
perfection, more than this impossibility of addition, or that
there can be nothing greater or more perfect ?
And now these considerations are mentioned, without solici-
tude whether they be so many exactly distinct heads. For ad-
mit that they be not all distinct, but some are involved with
others of them, yet the same truth may more powerfully strike
some understandings in one form of representation, others in
another, And it suffices, that (though not severally) they da
together plainly evidence that the necessary being includes the
18S THE LIVING TEMPLE. PAttT I.
absolute, entire fulness of all being and perfection actual and
possible within itself.
Having therefore thus dispatched th&tjirst part of this under-
taking, the eviction of an every way perfect being, we shall
now need to labour little in the second, namely, the more ex-
press deduction of the infiniteness and onliness thereof.
I. For as to the former of these, it is in effect the same thing
that hath been already proved ; since to the fullest notion of
infiniteness, absolute perfection seems every way most fully
to correspond. For absolute perfection includes all conceiv-
able perfection, leaves nothing excluded. And what doth
most simple infiniteness import, but to have nothing for a boun-
dary, or, which is the same, not to be bounded at all ?
We intend not now, principally, infiniteness e.xtrinsically
considered, with respect to time and place, as to be eternal
and immense do import ; but mtrinsicatly, as importing bot-
tomless profundity of essence, and the full confluence of all
kinds and degrees of perfection, without bound or limit. This
is the same with absolute perfection : which yet, if any should
suspect not to be so, they might, hov. ever, easily and expressly
prove it of the necessary being, upon the same grounds that
have been already alleged for proof of that : — as that the ne-
cessary being hath actuality answerable to the utmost possibility
of the creature ; that it is the only root and cause of all other
being, the actual cause of whatsoever is actually ; the possible
cause of whatsoever is possible to be : which is most apparently
true, and hath been evidenced to be so, by what hath been
Said,, so lately, as that it needs not be repeated. That is, in
fchorf, that nothing that is not necessarily, and of itself, could
ever have been or can be, but as it hath been or shall be put
into being by that which is necessarily, and of itself. So that
this is as apparent as that any thing is, or can be.
But now let sober reason judge, whether there can beany
bounds or limits set to the possibility of producible being;
either in respect of kinds, numbers, or degrees of perfection ?
Who can say or think, when there can be so many sorts of
creatures produced, (or at least individuals of those sorts,) that
there can be no more ? Or that any creature is so perfect as
that none can be made more perfect ? Which indeed, to suppose,
were to suppose an actual infiniteness in the creature. And then
it being, however, still but somewhat that is created or made,
how can its maker but be infinite ? For surely nobody will be
60 absurd as to imagine an infinite effect of a finite cause.
II. Having evinced the infiniteness of this Being, it will be
4
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. IS5
necessary, before we proceed to the onliuess thereof, to inquire
if the creature can be actually infinite : for it follows either
that the creature is, or some time may be, actually made so
perfect that it cannot be more perfect, or not. If not, Ave
have our purpose; that there is an infinite possibility on
the part of the creature, always unreplete ; and consequent-
ly, a proportionable infinite actuality of power on the Crea-
tor's part. Infinite power, I say, otherwise there were not
that acknowledged infinite possibility of producible being.
For nothing- is producible, that no power can produce, be the
intrinsic possibility of it (or its not-implying in itself, a contra-
diction that it should exist) what it will. And I say infinite actual
power, because the Creator, being what he is necessarily, what
power he hath not actually, he can never have, as was argued
before. But if it be said, the creature either is, or may some
time be, actually so perfect as that it cannot be more perfect ;
that, as was said, will suppose it then actually infinite ; and
therefore much more that its cause is so. And therefore in this
way our present purpose would be gained also. But we have
. no mind to gain it this latter way, as Ave have no need. It is
in itself plain, to any one that considers, that this possibility
on the creature's part can never actually be filled up ; that it is
a bottomless abyss, in Avhich our thoughts may still gradually
go doAvn deeper and deeper, Avithout end : that is, that still
more might be produced, or more perfect creatures, and still
more, everlastingly, Avithout any bound ; Avhich sufficiently
infers Avhat Ave aim at, that the Creator's actual poAver is pro-
portionable. And indeed the supposition of the former can
neither consist with the Creator's perfection, nor Avith the im-
perfection of the creature; it would infer that the Creator's
productive poAver might be exhausted ; that he could do no
more, and so place an actual boundary to him, and make
him finite. It Avere to make the creature actually full of being,
that it could receive no more, and so would make that infinite.
But it may be said, since all poAver is in order to act, and
the \ r ery notion of possibility imports that such a thing, of
which it is said, may, some time, be actual ; it seems very
unreasonable to say, that the infinite poAver of a cause cannot
produce an infinite effect; or that infinite possibility can
never become infinite actuality. For that Avere to say and
unsay the same thing, of the same : to affirm omnipotency and
impotency of the same cause ; possibility and impossibility of
the same effect.
Hoav urgent soever this difficulty may seem, there needs
ISi THE LIVIXC TEMPI, K. PART I.
nothing but patience and attentive consideration to disentangle
ourselves, and get through it. For if we will but allow our-
selves the leisure to consider, we shall find that pozce?- and
possibility must here be taken not simply and abstractly, but
as each of them is in conjunction with infinite. And what is
infinite, but that which can never be travelled through, or
whereof no end can be ever arrived unto ? Now suppose in-
finite power bad produced all that it could produce, it were
no longer infinite, there were an end of it : that is, it had
found limits and a boundary beyond which it could not go. If
infinite possibility were tilled up, there were an end of that also ;
and so neither Mere infinite.
It may then be further urged, that there is therefore no such
thing as infinite power or possibility. For how is that cause
said to have infinite power, which can never produce its pro-
portionable effect, or that effect have, infinite possibility, which
can never be produced ? It would follow then, that power
and possibility, which arc said to be infinite, arc neither power
nor possibility ; and that infinite must be rejected as a notion
either repugnant to itself, or to any thing unto which we shall
go about to affix it.
I answer, It only follows, they are neither power nor possi-
bility, whereof there is any bound or end ; or that can ever
be gone through. And how absurd is it that they shall be
said, as they cannot but be, to be both very vast, if they were
finite ; and none at all, for no other reason but their being in-
finite ! And for the pretended repugnancy of the very notion
of infinite, it is plain, that though it cannot be to us distinctly
comprehensible, yet it is no more repugnant than the notion of
finiteness. Nor when we have conceived of power, in the
general, and in our own thoughts set bounds to it, and made
it finite, is it a greater difficulty (nay, they that try will find
it much easier) again to think away these bounds, and make it
infinite ? And let them that judge the notion of infiniteness
inconsistent, therefore reject it if they can. They will feel it
reimposing itself upon them, whether they will or no, and
sticking as close to their minds as their very thinking power
itself. And who was therefore ever heard of, that did not ac-
knowledge some or other infinite ? Even the Epicureans them-
selves, though they confined their gods, they did not the
universe. Which, also, though some Peripatetic atheists
made finite in respect of place, yet in duration they made it
infinite. Though the notion of an eternal world is incumber-
ed with such absurdities and impossibilities, as whereof there
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 185
is not the least shadow, in that, of an every way infinite
Deity.
Briefly, it consists not with the nature of a contingent being,
to be infinite. For what is upon such terms, only, in being,
is reducible to nothing, at the will and pleasure of its maker ;
but it is a manifest repugnancy, that what is at the utmost dis-
tance from nothing (as infinite fulness of being cannot but be)
should be reducible thither. Therefore actual infinity cannot
but be the peculiar privilege of that which is necessarily.
Yet may we not say, that it is not within the compass of in-
finite power to make a creature that may be infinite. For it
argues not want of power that this is never to be done, but a
still infinitely abounding surplusage of it, that can never be
drained or drawn dry. Nor, that the thing itself is simply
impossible. It may be, as is compendiously expressed by
that most succinct and polite writer, Dr. Boyle, * in fieri, not
in facto esse. That is, it might be a thing always in doing,
but never done. Because it belongs to the infinite perfection
of God, that his power be never actually exhausted ; and to
the infinite imperfection of the creature, that its possibility or
capacity be never filled up : to the necessary self-subsisting
being, to be always full and communicative ; to the communi-
cated contingent being, to be ever empty and craving. One
may be said to have that, some way, in his power, not only
which he can do presently, all at once, but which he can do by
degrees, and supposing he have sufficient time. So a man may
be reckoned able to do that, as the uttermost, adequate effect
of his whole power, which it is only possible to him to have
effected, with the expiration of his life's-fime. God's measure
is eternity. What if we say then, this is a work possible to be
accomplished, even as the ultimate, proportionable issue of
divine power, (if it were his will, upon which all contingent
being depends,) that the creature should be ever growing in
the mean while, and be absolutely perfect at the expiration of
eternity ? If then you be good at suppositions, suppose that
expired, and this work finished, both together. Wherefore if
you ask, Why can the Avork of making created being infinite,
never be done ? The answer will be, Because eternity (in every
imaginable instant whereof, the inexhaustible power of God can,
it he will, be still adding cither more creatures, or more per-
fection to a creature) can never be at an end.
* Bishop of Clogher, in his Contemplat. Metaphj/s.
VOL. I. g B
ISf) THE LIVING TEMPLE. PARTI.
We might further argue the infinity of the necessary being,
from what hath been said of its undiminishablcness, by all its
vast communications. * Its impossibility to receive any ac-
cession to itself, by any its so great productions, both which
are plainly demonstrable, as we have seen, of the necessary
being, even as it is such, and do clearly, as any thing can,
bespeak infinity. But Ave have thence argued its absolute per-
fection, which so evidently includes the same thing, that all
this latter labour might have been spared ; were it not that it
is the genius of some persons not to be content that they have
the substance of a thing said, unless it be also said in their
own terms. .And that the express asserting of God's simple
infinitencss, in those very terms, is, in that respect, the
more requisite, as it is a form of expression more known and
ustud.
III. There are yet some remaining difficulties in the matter
we have been discoursing of; which partly through the de-
bility of our own minds we cannot but find, and which partly
the subtlety of sophistical wits doth create to us. It will be
requisite we have some consideration of at least some of them,
which we will labour to dispatch with all possible brevity;
leaving those that delight in the sport of tying and loosing
knots, or of weaving snares wherein cunningly to entangle
themselves, to be entertained by the school-men; among
whom they may find enough, upon this subject, to give them
exercise unto weariness ; and, if their minds have any relish
of what is more savory, I may venture to say, unto loathing.
It may possibly be here said, in short, But what have we
all this while been doing ? We have been labouring to prove
that necessary being comprehends the absolute fulness of all
being : and what doth this signify, but that all being is neces-
sary ? That God is all things, and so that every thing is
Cod ; that Aye hereby confound the being of a man, yea, of a
stone, or Avhatever Ave can think of, with one another, and all
with the being of God.
And again, hoAv is it possible there should be an infinite
self-subsisting being ? For then Iioav can there be any finite,
since such infinite being includes all being, and there can be
nothing beyond all ?
* For howsoever disputable it may be, whether whatsoever is infinite
can have nothing added to it; yet it is without dispute, that whatsoever
is so 'full as that nothing can be added to it, is infinite.
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE, 18/
Here therefore it is requisite, having hitherto only asserted,
and endeavoured to evince that, some way, necessary being
doth include all being, to shew in what way. And it is plain
it doth not include all, in the same way. It doth not so include
that which is created by it and depends on it, as it doth its own,
which is uncreated and independent.
The one it includes as its own, or rather as itself; the other,
as what it is, and ever was, within its power to produce. If any
better like the terms formally and virtually, they may serve
themselves of them at their own pleasure, which yet, as to many ,
will but more darkly speak the same sense.
We must here know, the productive power of God termi-
nates not upon himself, as if he were, by it, capable of adding
any thing- to his own appropriate being, which is (as hath been
evinced already) infinitely full, and incapable of addition, and
is therefore all pure act ; but on the creature, where there is
still a perpetual possibility, never tilled up ; because divine
power can never be exhausted. .And thus all that of being is
virtually in him, which, either having produced, he doth totally
sustain, or not being produced, he can produce.
Whereupon it is easy to understand, how necessary being
may comprehend all being, and yet all being not be necessary.
It comprehends all being, besides what itself is, as having
had, within the compass of its productive power, whatsoever
hath actually sprung from it, and having within the compass
of the same power, -whatsoever is still possible to be produced.
Which no more confounds such produced or producible be-
ing with that necessary being which is its cause, than it con-
founds all the effects of human power with one another, and
with the being of a man, to say, that he virtually compre-
hended them (so far as they were producible by him) within
his power. And it is no wiser an inference from the former,
than it would be from this latter, that a house, a book, and a
child, are the same thing with one another, and with the per-
son that produced them ; because, so far as they were pro-
duced by him, he had it in his power to produce them. And
that the effects of divine power are produced thereby totally,
whereas those of human power are produced by it but in part
only, doth, as to the strength and reasonableness of the argu-
ment, nothing alter the case. .
And as to the next, That infinite being should seem to ex-
clude ail finite. I confess that such as are so disposed, might
here even wrangle continually, as they might do about any
188 THE LIVING TEMPLE. TAUT I.
thing in which infiniteness is concerned ; and yet therein shew
themselves (as Seneca I remember speaks in another case) not
a whit the more learned, bnt the more troublesome. But if
one would make short work of it, and barely deny that infinite
being excludes finite, (as Scotus doth little else ;* besides de-
nying the consequence of the argument, by which it was be-
fore enforced, namely, [that an infinite body would exclude a
finite ; for where should the finite be, when the infinite should
fill up all space ? And therefore by parity of reason, why
should not infinite being exclude finite ?] shewing the disparity
of the two cases,) it would perhaps give them some trouble
also to prove it. For which way would they go to work ?
Infinite self-subsisting being includes all being, very true ;
and therefore, we say, it includes finite. And what then?
Doth it, because it includes it, therefore exclude it ? And
let the matter be soberly considered ; somewhat of finite being
and power, we say, (and apprehend no knot or difficulty in
the matter,) can extend so far as to produce some proportiona-
ble effect, or can do such and such things. And what, doth it
seem likely then, that infinite being and power can therefore
do just nothing ? Is it not a reason of mighty force, and con-
foundingly demonstrative, that an agent can do nothing, or
cannot possibly produce any the least thing, only because he
is of infinite power ?
For if there be a simple inconsistency between an infinite
being and a finite, that will be the case; that, because the
former is infinite, therefore it can produce nothing. For what
it should produce cannot consist with it, that is, even not be-
ing finite; and then certainly if we could suppose the effect ?>z«
finite, much less. But what, therefore, is power the less for
being infinite ? or can infinite power, even because it is infi-
nite, do nothing ? What can be said or thought more absurd,
or void of sense ? Or shall it be said that the infiniteness of
power is no hinderance, but the infiniteness of being ? But
how wild an imagination were that of a finite being, that were
of infinite power ? And besides, is that power somewhat, or
nothing ? Surely it. will not be said it is nothing. Then it is
some being ; and if some power be some being, what then is
infinite power, is not that infinite being ? And now, therefore,
if this infinite can produce any thing, which it were a strange
madness to deny, it can at least produce some finite thing.
Wherefore there is no inconsistency between the infinite and
* Distinct. 2. Q. 2. Q. 1.
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 189
finite beings, unless we say the effect produced, even by being:
produced, must destroy, or even infinitely impair its cause,
so as to make it cease at least to be infinite ! But that also can-
not possibly be said of that which is' infinite and necessary ;
which, as hath been shewn, cannot, by whatsoever productions,
suffer any diminution or decay. If here it be further urged,
But here is an infinite being now supposed ; let, next, be sup-
posed the production of a finite : this is not the same with the
other; for* surely infinite, and finite, are distinguishable
enough, and do even infinitely ditl'er. This finite is either
something or nothing ; nothing it cannot be said ; for it was
supposed a being, and produced ; but the production of no-
thing, is no production. It. is somewhat then ; here is there-
fore an infinite being, and a finite, now besides. The infinite,
it was said, cannot be diminished ; the finite, a real something,
is added. Is there therefore nothing more of existent being
than there was before this production ? It is answered, Nothing
more than virtually was before ; for when we suppose an infi-
nite being, and afterwards a finite ; this finite is not to be looked
upon as emerging or springing up of itself out of nothing, or
as proceeding from some third thing as its cause, but as pro-
duced by that infinite, or springing out of that, which it could
not do, bat as being before virtually contained in it. For the
infinite produces nothing, which it could not produce. And
what it could produce, was before contained in it, as in the
power of its cause. And to any one that attends, and is not
disposed to "be quarrelsome, this is as plain and easy to be un-
derstood, as how any finite thing may produce another, or
rather, more plain and easy, because a finite agent doth not
entirely contain its effect within itself, or in its own power, as
an infinite doth. If yet it be again said, that which is li-
mited is not infinite, but suppose any finite thing produced in-
to being after a pre-existent infinite, this infinite becomes now
limited ; for the being of the finite, is not that of the infinite,
each hath its own distinct being. And it cannot be said of the
one, it is the other ; therefore each is limited to itself. I an-
swer ; that which was infinite becomes not hereby less than it
was ; for it hath produced nothing but what was before virtu-
ally contained in if, and still is, for it still totally sustains the
other. But whatsoever it actually doth, it can do, or hath
within its power : therefore it were infinite before, and is not
now become less, it is still infinite.
Wherefore the true reason why the position of a finite thing
after a supposed all-comprehending infinite, doth no way in-
190 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
trench upon or detract from the other's all-comprehensive infi-
nity, is, that it was formerly contained, and still is, within
the virtue and power of the other.
It is true, that if we should suppose any thing besides that
supposed infinite to be of itself, that would infer a limitation of
the former. Infer, I say, not cause it, that is, it would not
make it cease to be all-comprehendingly infinite, but it would
argue it not to have been so before ; and that the supposition
of its infinity was a false supposition, because it would then
appear that the former did not comprehend all being any way
in itself. Somewhat being now found to be in being, which
hath no dependence thereon ; whence it. Mould be evident nei-
ther can be so. Of which, some good use may be made to a
further purpose by and by.
Here only we may by the way annex, as a just corollary,
from the foregoing discourse, that as the supposition of neces-
sary self-subsisting matter Mas before shewn to be a vain, it
now also appears plainly to be altogether an impossible suppo-
sition. For since the necessary self-subsisting being is infinite
and all-comprehensive ; and if matter Mere supposed neces-
sary, we must have another necessary being to form the Morld,
inasmuch as matter is not self-active, much less intelligent, as
it hath both been proved it cannot be, and that the Former of
this world must be. It is therefore out of question, that be-
cause both cannot be all-comprehensive, they cannot both be
necessary. Nor can the vastly different kinds or natures of
these things salve the business ; for be they of m hat kinds they
will, they are still beings. Besides, if matter were necessary
and self-subsisting, every particle of it must be so. And then
we shall have not only two, but an infinite number of such in-
finites, and all of the same kind. But being, only of this or
that sort, (as is apparent Avherc more sorts do exist than one,)
could not be simply infinite, except as the other depends
thereon ; and as this one is radically comprehensive of all the
rest, that can come under the general and most common notion
of being. For that there is some general notion M'hereinall being
agrees, and by which it differs from no being, is, I think,
little to be doubted ; how unequally soever, and dependency
the one upon the other, the distinct sorts do partake therein.
Whereupon the expressions, super-essenlial, and others like
it, spoken of God, must be understood as rhetorical strains,
importing more reverence than rigid trulh. Except by es-
sence, as Mas formerly said, only that which is created be
meant. And that only a purer and more noble kind of essence
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 191
were intended to be asserted to him,* which yet seems also
unwarrantable and injurious, that a word of that import should
be so misapplied and transferred from the substance, to signify
nothing- but the shadow, rather, of being-. And that they who
would seem zealously concerned to appropriate all being unto
God, should, in the height of their transport, so far forget
themselves as to set him above all being, and so deny him any
at all. For surely that which simply is above all being, is no
being.
2. And as to the unity, or onliness rather, of this being, or
of the God-head, the deduction thereof seems plain and easy
from what hath been already proved; that is, from the abso-
lute perfection thereof. For though some do toil themselves
much about this matter, and others plainly conclude that it is
not to be proved at all in a rational way, but only by divine
revelation ; yet I conceive, they that follow the method (hav-
ing proved some necessary self-subsisting being, the root and
original spring of all being and perfection, actual and possi-
ble, which is as plain as any thing can be) of deducing from
thence the absolute, all-comprehending perfection of such
necessary being, will find their work as good as done. For
nothing seems more evident, than that there cannot be two
(much less more) such beings, inasmuch as one comprehends
in itself all being and perfection ; for there can be but one all,
without which is nothing. So that, one such being supposed,
another can have nothing remaining to it. Yea, so far is it
therefore, if we suppose one infinite and absolutely perfect be-
ing, that there can be another, independent thereon, (and of a
depending infinity, we need not say more than we have, which
if any such could be, cannot possibly be a distinct God,) that
there cannot be the minutest, finite tiling, imaginable, which
that supposed infinity doth not comprehend, or that can stand
apart from it, on any distinct basis of its own. And that this
matter may be left as plain as we can make it ; supposing it
already most evident, namely, That there is, actually existing,
an absolute, entire fulness of wisdom, power, and so of all
* And we must suppose somewhat agreeable to this tobe the meaning
«f Plotinus, when he denies knowledge to be in God, and vet also denies
that there is in him any ignorance; that is, that he means his intelligence
is of an infinitely distinct and more excellent sort from that which he
causes in us, as appears by his annexed reason, to Ss moiiru^ ainoy, a^/»
Ifiy ly.uvuv — That "which is the efficient cause of all things, cannot be one
of those things of which it is the fazese. Enn. C. 1. 9« c. 6.
o
192 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
other perfection — That such absolute entire fulness of per-
fection, is infinite — That this infinite perfection must have its
primary seat somewhere — That its primary, original seat can be
nowhere, but in necessary self-subsisting being. We hereupon
add, that if we suppose multitude, or any plurality of neces-
sary self-originate beings, concurring to make up the seat
or subject of this infinite perfection ; each one must either be
of finite and partial perfection, or infinite and absolute. Infi-
nite and absolute it cannot be, because one self-originate, infi-
nitely and absolutely perfect being will necessarily compre-
hend all perfection, and leave nothing to the rest. Nor finite,
because many finites can never make one infinite ; much less
can many broken parcels or fragments of perfection ever
make infinite and absolute perfection; even though their num-
ber, if that were possible, were infinite. For the perfection of
unity would still be wanting, and their communication and
concurrence to any work (even such as we see is done) be in-
finitely imperfect and impossible.
We might, more at large, and with a much more pompous
number and apparatus of arguments, have shewn that there
can be no more Gods than one. But to such as had rather be
informed, than bewildered and lost, clear proof that is shorter,
and more comprehensive, will be more grateful.
Nor doth this proof of the unity of the God-head any way
impugn the trinity, which is by Christians believed, therein,
(and whereof some heathens, as is known, have not been
wholly without some apprehension, however they came by it,)
or exclude a sufficient, uncreated ground of trinal distinction.
As would be seen, if that great dillerence of beings,, necessary
and contingent, be well stated, and what is by eternal, neces-
sary emanation of the divine nature, be duly distinguished
from the arbitrary products of the divine will ; And the mat-
ter be thoroughly examined, whether herein be not a sufficient
distinction of that which isincrcated, and that which is created.
In this way it is possible it might be cleared, how a trinity.
in the God-head may be very consistently with the unity
thereof. But that it is, we cannot know, but by his telling us
so. It being among the many things of God, which are not to
be known, but by the Spirit of God revealing and testifying
them, in and according to the holy Scriptures : as the things
of a man are not known but by the spirit of a man. And what
further evidence we may justly and reasonably take from those
Scriptures, even in reference to some of the things hitherto
discoursed, may be hereafter shewn.
3
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 193
CHAP. V.
I. Demands in reference to what hath been hitherto discoursed, with
some reasonings thereupon: First, Is it possible that, upon supposi-
tion of this Icings existence, it may be, in any way suitable to our pre-
sent state, made known to us that it doth exist? Proved, 1. That it
may. 2 . That, since any other fit way that can be thought on is as much
liable to exception as that we have already, this must be, therefore, suf-
ficient. II. Strong impressions. III. Glorious apparitions. IV. Terri-
ble voices. V. Surprising transformations. VI. If these necessary, is
it needful they be universal? frequent? VII. If not, more rare things
of this sort not wanting. Second, Demand. Can subjects, remote from
their prince, sufficiently be assured of his existence? Third, Demand.
Can we be sure there are men on earth ? VIII. IteHeciions.
I. A ND if any should in the mean time still remain either
JLJL doubtful, or apt to cavil, after all that hath been said
for proof of that being's existence which we have described,
I Mould only add these few things, by way of inquiry or de-
mand ; namely,
First, Do they believe, upon supposition of the existence
of such a Being, that it is possible it may be made kown to us,
in our present state and circumstances, by means not unsuitable
thereto, or inconvenient to the order and government of the
world, that it doth exist ? It were strange to say or suppose,
that a Being of so high perfection as this Ave have hitherto
given an account of, if he is, cannot in any fit way make it
known that he is, to an intelligent and apprehensive sort of/
creatures.
1. If indeed he is ; and be the common Cause, Author, and
Lord of us and all things, (which we do now but suppose :
and we may defy cavil to allege any thing that is so much as
colourable against the possibility of the supposition,) surely
lie hath done greater things than the making of it known that
he is. It is no unapprehensible thing. There hath been no
inconsistent notion hitherto given of him ; nothing said con-
cerning him, but will well admit that it is possible such a Being
may be now existent. Yea, we not only can conceive, but
we actually have, and cannot but have, some conception of
the several attributes we have ascribed to him ; so as to apply
them, severally, to somewhat else, if we will not apply them 3
vol. i. 2 c
194 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PAT?T T*
jointly, to him. We cannot but admit there is some eternal,
necessary being ; somewhat that is of itself active ; somewhat
that 'is powerful, wise, and good. And these notions have in
them no repugnancy to one another ; wherefore it is not im-
possible they may meet, and agree together, in full per-
fection to one and the same existent being. And hence
it is manifestly no unapprehensive tiling, that such a Being
doth exist. Now supposing that it doth exist, and hath
hath been to us the cause and Author of our being ; hath given
us the reasonable, intelligent nature which we find ourselves
possessors of; and that very power whereby we apprehend the
existence of such a Being as he is to be possible, (all which
we for the present do stifl but suppose,) while also his actual
existence is not unapprchensible : were it not the greatest mad-
ness imaginable to say, that if he do exist, he cannot also make
our apprehensive nature understand this apprehensible thing
that he doth exist ? We will therefore take it for granted, and
as a thing which no man well in his wits will deny, that upon
supposition such a Being, the Cause and Author of all things,
do exist, he might, in some convenient way or other, with suf-
ficient evidence, make it known to such creatures as we, so as
to beget in us a rational certainty that lie doth exist.
2. Upon which presumed ground we will only reason thus
or assume to it ; That there is no possible and lit way of doing
it which is not liable to as mueh exception as the evidence we
already have. Whence it will be consequent, that if the
th'm^ be possible to be fitly done, it is done already. That is,
that if we can apprehend how it may be possible such a Being,
actually existent, might give us that evidence of his existence
that should be suitable to our present state, and sufficient to
out-weigh all objections to the contrary ; (without which it
were not rationally sufficient :) and that we can apprehend no
possible way of doing this, which will not be liable to the
same, or equal objections, as may be made against the pre-
sent means we have for the begetting of this certainty in us,
then we have already sufficient evidence of this Being's exis-
tence. That is, such as ought to prevail against all objec-
tions, and obtain our assent that it doth exist.
Here it is only needful to be considered what ways can be
thought of, which we will say might assure us in this matter,
that we already have not. And what might be objected against
them, equally, as against the means we now have.
II. Will we say such a Being, if he did actually exist,
might ascertain us of his existence, by some powerful impres.
r HAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. ! " 5
sion of that trvitli upon our minds ? We will not insist, what
(here is already. Let them consider, who gainsay what they
can find of it in their own minds ; and whether they are not
engaged by their atheistical inclinations in a contention against
themselves, and their more natural sentiments, from which
they find it a matter of no small difficulty lobe-delivered ? It.
was not for nothing, that even Epicurus himself calls this of
an existing Deity, a prolepiical notion. But you may say,
the impression might have been simply universal, and so irre-
sistible, as to prevent or overbear all doubt, or inclination to
doubt.
And, for the universality of it, why may we not suppose it
already sufficiently universal 2 As hath been heretofore al-
leged. With what confidence can the few dissenting atheists,
(Jiat have professed to be of another persuasion, put that value
upon themselves, as to reckon their dissent considerable enough
" to implead the universality of this impression! Or what doth
it signify more to that purpose, than some few instances may
do, of persons so stupidly foolish, as to give much less disco-
very of any rational faculty than some beasts ; to the impugn-
ing the universal rationality of mankind.
Besides that, your contrary profession is no sufficient argu-
ment of your contrary persuasion, much less, that you never
had any stamp or impression of a Deity upon your minds, or
that you have quite razed it out. It is much to be suspected
that you hold not your contrary persuasion, with that unshaken
confidence, and freedom from all fearful and suspicious mis-
givings, as that you have much more reason to brag of your
disbelief for the strength, than you have for the goodness of
it. And lhat you have those qualmish fits, which bewray the
impression, (at least to your own notice and reflection, if you
would but allow yourselves the liberty of so much converse
with yourselves,) that you will not confess, and yet cannot
utterly deface. But if in this you had quite won the day,
and were masters of your design, were it not pretty to suppose
that the common consent of mankind would be a good argu-
ment of the existence of a Deity, except only that it wants
your concurrence ? If it were so universalis to include your
vote and suffrage, it would then be a firm and solid argument ;
(as no doubt it is, without you, a stronger one than you can
answer;) but when you have made a hard shift to withdraw
your assent, you have undone the Deity, and religion ! Doth
this cause stand and fall witli you I Unto which you can con-
196 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
tribute about as much as the fly to the triumph ! Was that
true before, -which now your hard-laboured dissent had made
false ? But if this impression were simply universal, so as
also to include you, it matters not what men would say
or object against it ; (it is to be supposed they would be in no
disposition to object any thing ;) but what were to be said, or
what the case itself, objectively considered, would admit.
And though it would not (as now it doth not) admit of any
thing to be said to any purpose, yet the same thing were still
to be said, that you now say. And if we should but again
unsuppose so much of the former supposition, as to imagine
that some few should have made their escape, and disburthened
themselves of all apprehensions of God, would they not, with
the same impudence as you now do, say that all religion were
notrfing else but enthusiastical fanaticism; and that all man-
kind, besides themselves, were enslaved fools ?
And for the mere irresistibleness of this impression ; it is true,
it. would take away all disposition to oppose, but it may be
presumed this is none of the rational evidence which we sup-
pose you to mean ; when you admit (if you do admit) that,
some way or other, the existence of such a being might be
possibly made so evident, as to induce a rational certainty
thereof. For to believe such a thing to be true only upon a strong
impulse, (how certain soever the thing be,) is not to assent to
it upon a foregoing reason. Nor can any, in that case, tell
whij they believe it, but that they believe it. You will not
surely think any thing the truer for this, only, that such and
nuch believe it with a sturdy confidence. It is true, that the
universality and naturalness of such a persuasion, as pointing
us to a common cause thereof, affords the matter of an argu-
ment, or is a medium not contemptible nor capable of answer,
as bath been said before.
But to be irresistibly captivated into an assent, is no medium
at all ; but an immediate persuasion of the thing itself, without
a reason.
III. Therefore must it yet be demanded of atheistical per-
sons, what means, that you yet have not, Avould you think
sufficient to have put this matter out of doubt ? Will you
say, Some kind of very glorious apparitions, becoming the
majesty of such a one as this Being is represented, would have
satisfied ? But if you know how to fancy, that such a thing
as the sun, and other luminaries, might have been compacted
of a certain peculiar sort of atoms, coming together of their
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 197
own accord, without the direction of a wise agent ; yea, and
consist so long, and hold so strangely regular motions ; how
easy would it 1)0 to object that, with much advantage, against
what any temporary apparition, be it as glorious as you can
imagine, might seem to signify to this purpose.
IV. Would dreadful loud voices proclaiming him to be, of
whose existence you doubt, have served the turn ? it is likely,
if your fear would have permitted you to use your wit, yoa
would have had some subtle invention how, by some odd ren-
counter of angry atoms, the air or clouds might become thus
terribly vocal. And when you know already, that they do
sometimes salute your ears Avith very loud sounds, (as when it
thunders,) there is little doubt but your great wit can devise a
way how possibly such sounds might become articulate. And
for the sense and coherent import of what were spoken ; you
that are so good at conjecturing how things might casually
happen, would not be long in making a guess that might serve
that turn also ; except you were grown very dull and barren,
and that fancy that served you to imagine how the Avhole frame
of the universe, and the rare structure of the bodies of animals,
yea, and even the reasonable soul itself, might be all casual pro-
ductions, cannot now devise how, by chance, a few -words
(for you do not say you expect long orations) might fall out to
be sense though there were no intelligent speaker.
V. But Avould strange and wonderful effects that might sur-
prise and amaze you do the business ? We may challenge you to
try your faculty, and stretch it to the uttermost ; and then tell
us what imagination you have formed of any tiling more strange
and wonderful, than the already extant frame of nature # , in the
whole, and the several parts of it. WiM he that hath a while
considered the composition of the world ; the exact and orderly
motions of the sun, moon, and stars; the fabric of his own
body, and the powers of his soul, expect yet a wonder, to prove
to him there is a God ? But if that be the complexion of your
minds, that it is not the greatness of any work, but the novelty
and surprisingness of it, that will convince you, it is not ra-
tional evidence you seek : nor is it your reason, but your idle
curiosity, you would have gratified ; which deserves no more
satisfaction than that fond wish, that one might come from the
dead to warn men on earth, lest they should come into the
place of torment.
VI. And if such means as these that have been mentioned
should be thought necessary ? I would ask, Are they necessary
198 THE LIVING TEMPLE. TAItT I.
to every individual person, so as that no man shall be esteemed
to have had sufficient means of conviction, who hath not with
his own eyes beheld some such glorious apparition ; or himself
heard some such terrible voire ; or been (lie immediate witness or
subject of some prodigious wonderful work ? Or will the once
seeing-, hearing, or feeling (hem suffice ? Is it not necessary (here
should be a frequent repetition and renewal of these amazing
things, lest the impression wearing off, there be a relapse, and a
gradual sliding into an oblivion, and unapprehensivenessof that
Being's existence, whereof they had, sometime, received a con-
viction. Now if such a continual iteration of these strange
things were thought necessary, would ihey not hereby soon cease
to be strange ? And then if their strangeness was necessary, by
that very thing, wherein their sufficiency for conviction is said
to consist, they should become useless. Or if by their frequent
variations (which it is possible to suppose) a perpetual amuse-
ment be .still kept up in the minds of men, and they be always
full of consternation and wonder, doth this temper so much
befriend the exercise of reason, or contribute to the sober
consideration of things? As if men could not be rational,
without being half mad ! And indeed they might soon become
altogether so, by being but a while beset with objects so full
of terror, as are by this supposition made the necessary means
to convince them of a Deity. * And were this a iit means of
ruling the world, of preserving order among mankind ? What
business could then be followed ? Who could attend the affairs
of their callings ? Who could either be capable of governing,
or of being governed, while all men's minds should be wholly
taken up, either in the amazed view or the suspenseful .ex-
pectation, of nought else but strange things ? To which pur.
pose much hath been of late, with so excellent reason, t dis-
coursed by a noted author, that i! is needless here to say more.
And the aspect and influence of this state of things would be
most pernicious upon religion, that should be most served
thereby, and which requires the greatest severity and most
peaceful composure of mind to the due managing the exercises
of it. How little would that contribute to pious and devout
* Now were not that a most improper course, and unsuitable to the na-
ture of man, that should rather tend to destroy his reason or judgment,
than convince it *
t Dr. Spencer, of Prodigies. A discourse, which, though it disproves
not the reality or true si gnificancy of such portents, yet aptly tends to pre-
vent or correct the ill use of them.
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 199
converses with God, that should certainly keep men's minds
in a continual commotion and hurry ? This course, as our
present condition is, what could it do but craze men's under-
standings, as a too bright and dazzling light causeth blindness,
or any over-excelling sensible object destroys the sense ; so
tli at we should soon have cause to apply the Erpen. proverb,
" Shut the windows, that the house may be light." And
might learn to put a sense, not intolerable, upon those passages
of some mystical writers, * that God is to be seen «\ 5 $«of
7> ^'@. — in a divine cloud or darkness, as one ; and as another t
speaks, with closed eyes ; though what was their very sense 1
"will not pretend to tell ; /<.tVa;»Tas htSpveoSxi tv ayv^w x.xi y.^viplaj ran
ovtwv r s*<i$i— shutting their et/es to endeavour to comprehend or
attain the Lnozvledge of the unknown and hidden unity ; the
source of beings.
Besides that, by this means, there would naturally ensue
the continual excitation of so vexatious and enthralling pas-
sions, so servile and tormenting tears and amazements, as could
not but hold the souls ol' men under a constant and com-
fortless restraint from any free and ingenuous access to God,
or conversation with him ; wherein the very life of religion
consists. And then, to what purpose doth the discovery and.
acknowledgment of the Deity serve ? Inasmuch as it is never
to be thought, that the existence of God is a thing to be known,
only that it may be known ; but that the end it serves for, is
religion ; a complacential and cheerful adoration of him, and
application of ourselves, Avith, at once, both dutiful and plea-
sant affections towards him. That were a strange means of
coming to know that he is, that should only tend to destroy or
hinder the very end itself of that knowledge. Wherefore all
this being considered, it is likely it would not be insisted upon
as necessary to our being persuaded of God's existence, that
he should so multiply strange and astonishing things, as that
every man might be a daily, amazed, beholder and witness of
them.
VII. And if their frequency and constant, iteration be ac-
knowledged not necessary, but shall indeed be judged wholly
inconvenient, more rare discoveries of him, in the very ways
we have been speaking of, have not been wanting. What
would we think of such an appearance of God as that was upon
Mouut Sinai, when he came down (or caused a sensible glory
* Dionysius Areop. 1. tie myster. Theol. c. 1.
\ Proclus in Plat. Theol.
200 THE LIVING TEMPLE. £ART I.
to descend) in the sight of all that great people ; wherein the
several things concurred that were above mentioned ! Let U3
but suppose such an appearance, in all the concurrent circum-
stances of it, as that is said to have been. That is,", we will
suppose an equally great assembly or multitude of people is
gathered together, and solemn forewarning is given and pro-
claimed among them, by appointed heralds or officers of state,
that, on such a prefixed day, now very nigh at hand, the Di-
vine majesty and glory (even his glory set in majesty) will
visibly appear, and shew itself to them. They are most se-
verely enjoined to prepare themselves, and be in readiness
against that day. Great care is taken to sanctify the people,
and the place ; bounds are set about the designed theatre of
this great appearance ; all are strictly required to observe their
due and awful distances, and abstain from more audacious ap-
proaches and gazings ; lest that terrible glory break out upon
them, and they perish : an irreverent or disrespectful look,
they are told, will be mortal to them, or a very touch of any
part of this sacred inclosure. In the morning of the appointed
day, there are thunders, and lightnings, and a thick cloud
upon the hallowed mount. The exceeding loud sound of
trumpet proclaims the Lord's descent, lie descends in fire,
the flames whereof envelop the trembling mount, (now floored
with a sapphire pavement, clear as the body of heaven,) and
ascend into the middle region, or, as it is expressed, into the
midst or heart of the heavens. The voice of words, (a loud
and dreadful voice,) audible to all that mighty assembly, in
which were six hundred thousand men, (probably more than
a million of persons,) issues forth from amidst that terrible
glory, pronouncing to them that i" am Jehovah thy God. And
thence proceeding to give them precepts so plain and clear, so
comprehensive and full, so unexecptionably just and righte-
ous, so agreeable to the nature of man, and subservient to his
good, that nothing could be more worthy the great Creator, or
more aptly suitable to such a sort of creatures.
It is very likely, indeed, that such a demonstration would
leave no spectator in doubt concerning the existence of God ;
and would puzzle the philosophy of the most sceptical atheist
to give an account; otherwise, of the phenomenon. And if
such could devise to say anything that should seem plausible
to some very easy half-witted persons, that were not present,
they woidd have a hard task of it to quiet the minds of those
that were ; or make them believe this was nothing else but
some odd conjuncture of certain fiery atoms, that, by some
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 201
strange accident happened into this occursion and conflict,
with one another ; or some illusion of fancy, by which so great
a multitude were all at once imposed upon ; so as that they
only Seemed to themselves to hear and see, what they heard
and saw not. Nor is it likely they would be very confident of
the truth of their own conjecture, or be apt to venture much
upon it themselves ; having been the eye and ear-witnesses of
these things.
But is it necessary this course shall be taken to make the
world know there is a God ? Such an appearance, indeed,
would more powerfully strike sense ; but unto sober and con-
siderate reason were it a greater thing than the making such a
world as this, and the disposing this great variety of particular
beings in it, into so exact and elegant an order ; and the sus-
taining and preserving it in the same state, through so many
ages ? Let the vast and unknown extent of the whole, the ad-
mirable variety, the elegant shapes, the regular motions, the
excellent faculties and powers of that inconceivable number of
creatures contained in it, be considered. And is there any
comparison between that temporary, transient, occasional,
and this steady, permanent, and universal discovery of God ?
Nor (supposing the truth of the history) can it be thought the
design of this appearance to these Hebrews was to convince
them of the existence of a Deity, to be worshipped ; when
of both they had so convincing evidence many ways be-
fore ; and the other nations, that which they left, and those
whither they went, were not without their religion and wor-
ship, such as it was : but to engage them, by so majestic a
representation thereof, to a more exact observance of his will,
now made known. Though, had there been any doubt of the
former, (as we can hardly suppose they could before have
more doubted of the being of a God, than that there were
men on earth,) this might collaterally, and besides its chief
intention, be a means to confirm them concerning that also:
but that it was necessary for that end, we have no pretence to
imagine. The like may be said, concerning other miracles
heretofore wrought, that the intent of them was to justify the
divine authority of him who wrought them, to prove him sent
by God, and so countenance the doctrine or message delivered
by him. Not that they tended (otherwise than on the by) to
prove God's existence : much less, was this so amazing an ap-
pearance needful, or intended for that end ; and least of all,
was it necessary that this should be God's ordinary way of
making it known to men that he doth exist : so as that for
vol. i. 2 c
202 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART ?.
this purpose lie should often repeat so terrible representations
of himself. And how inconvenient it were to mortal men, as
well as unnecessary, the astonishment wherewith it possessed
that people, is an evidence ; and their passionate affrighted
wish, thereupon, " Let not God any more speak to us, lest we
die." They apprehended it impossible for them to outlive
such another sight !
And if that so amazing- an appearance of the Divine Majesty
(sometime afforded) were not. necessary, 1 but some way, on the
by, useful, for the confirming that people in the persuasion
of God's existence, why may it not be useful also, for the
same purpose even now, to us ? Is it that we think that can
be less true now. which was so gtforiouslv evident to be true four
thousand years ago ? Or is it that we can disbelieve or doubt
the truth of the history ? What should be the ground or pre-
tence of doubt ? If it were a fiction, it is manifest it was
feigned by some person that had the use of his understanding,
and was not beside himself, as the coherence and contexture
of parts doth plainly shew. But would any man not beside
himself, designing to gain credit to a forged report of a matter
of fact, ever say there were six hundred thousand persons
present at the doing of it ? Would it not rather be pretended
that it was done in a corner ? Or is it imaginable it should never
have met with contradiction ? That none of the pretended by-
standers should disclaim the avouchment of it, and say they
knew of no such matter ? Especially if it be considered that
the laws said to be given at that time, chiefly those which were
reported to have been written in the two tables, were not so
favourable to vicious inclinations, nor that people so strict and
scrupulous observers of them ; but that they would have been
g-lad to have had any thing to pretend, against the authority
of the legislature, if the case could have admitted it. When
they discovered, in that and succeeding time, so violently
prone and unretr-actable a propension to idolatry and other
wickednesses, directly against the very letter of that law, how
welcome and covetable a plea had it been, in their frequent,
and, sometimes, almost universal apostasies, could they have
had such a thing to pretend, that the law itself that curbed
them was a cheat ! But we always find, that though they la-
boured, in some of their degeneracies, and when they were
lapsed into a more corrupted state, to render it more easy to
themselves by favourable glosses and interpretations ; yet f
evf n in the most corrupt, they never went about to deny or
implead its divine original, whereof they were ever so religious
CHAP. V. THE LTVIVO TEMPLE. 20.3
assertors, as no people under heaven could be more ; and the
awful apprehension whereof prevailed so far with them, as
that care was taken (as is notoriously known) by those ap-
pointed to that charge, that the very letters should be number-
ed of the sacred writings, lest there should happen any the
minutest alteration in them. Much more might be said, if it
were needful, for the evincing the truth of this particular piece
of history, : and it is little to be doubted but any man who,
with sober and impartial reason, considers the circumstances
relating to it ; the easily evidenceable antiquity of the records
whereof this is a part. ; the certain nearness of the time of
writing them, to the time when this thing is said to have been
done ; the great reputation of the writer even among pagans ;
the great multitude of the alleged witnesses and spectators ; the
no-contradiction ever heard of; the universal consent and
suffrage of that nation through all times to this day, even when
their practice hath been most contrary to the laws then given ;
the securely confident and unsuspicious reference of later
pieces of sacred Scripture thereto, (even some parts of the New
Testament,) as a most known and undoubted thing ; the long
series and tract of time through which that people are said to
have had extraordinary and sensible indications of the divine
presence; {which, if it had been false, could not, in so long
a time, but have been evicted of falsehood;) their miraculous
and wonderful eduction out of Egypt, not denied by any,
and more obscurely acknowledged by some heathen writers ;
their conduct through the wilderness, and settlement in Ca-
naan ; their constitution and form of polity; known for many
ages to have been a theocracy ; their usual ways of consulting
Ciod, upon all more important occasions : — whosoever, I say,
shall soberly consider these tilings, (and many more might
easily occur to such as would think fit to let their thoughts
dwell awhile upon this subject,) will not only, from some of
them, think it highly improbable, but from others of them,
plainly impossible that the history of this appearance should
have been acontrived piece of falsehood. Yea, and though,
as was said, the view of such a thing with one's own eyes
would make a more powerful impression upon our fancy, or
imagination, yet, if we speak of rational evidence (which is
quite another thing) of the truth of a matter of fact that were
of this astonishing nature, I should think it were as much (at
least if I were credibly told that so many hundred thousand
persons saw it at once) as if I had been the single unaccom-
panied spectator of it myself. Not to say that it were ap-
204 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
parently, in some respect, much greater ; could we but obtain
of ourselves to distinguish between the pleasing of our curiosi-
ty, and the satisfying of our reason. So that, upon the whole,
I see not why it may not be concluded, with the greatest con-
fidence, that both the (supposed) existence of a Deity is pos-
sible to be certainly known to men on earth, in some way that
is suitable to their present state ; that there are no means fitter
to be ordinary, than those we already have, and that more ex-
traordinary, additional confirmations are partly, therefore, not
necessary, and partly not wanting.
Again, Secoi/dlj/, It may be further demanded, (as that
which may both immediately serve our main purpose, and
may also shew the reasonableness of what was last said,) Is it
sufficiently evident to such subjects of some great prince as live
remote from the royal residence, that there is such a one now
ruling over them ?
To say No, is to raze the foundation of civil government,
and reduce it wholly to dome ^tical, by such a ruler as may
ever be in present view. Which yet is upon such terms never
possible to be preserved also. It is plain many do firmly
enough believe that there is a king reigning over them, who
not only never saw the king, but never heard any distinct ac-
count of the splendour of his court, the pomp of his attend-
ance, or, it may be, never saw the man that had seen the
king. And is not all dutiful and loyal obedience wont to be
challenged and paid of such, as well as his other subjects ?
Or would it be thought a reasonable excuse of disloyalty, that
any such persons should say they had never seen the king, or
his court? Or a reasonable demand, as the condition of re-
quired subjection, that the court be kept, sometime, in their
village, that they might have the opportunity of beholding at
least some of the insignia of regality, or more splendid ap-
pearances of that majesty, which claims subjection from them?
Much more would it be deemed unreasonable and insolent,
that every subject should expect to sec the face of the prince
every day, otherwise they will not obey, nor believe there is
any such person. Whereas it hath been judged rather more
expedient and serviceable to the continuing the veneration of
majesty, (and in a monarchy of no mean reputation for wisdom
and greatness,) that the prince did very rarely offer himself to
the view of the people, Surely more ordinary and remote dis-
coveries of an existing prince and rider over them, (the effects
of his power, and the influences of his government,) will be
reckoned sufficient, even as to many parts of his dominions
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 205
that possibly through many succeeding generations never had
any other. And yet how unspeakably less sensible, less im-
mediate, less constant, less necessary, less numerous, are the
effects and instances of regal human power and wisdom, than,
of! he divine; which latter we behold which way soever we
look, and feel in every thing we touch, or have any sense of,
and may reflect upon in our very senses themselves, and in
all tlie parts and powers that belong to us ; and so certainly,
that if Ave would allow ourselves the liberty of serious thoughts,
we might soon find it were utterly impossible such effects
should ever have been without that only cause : that without
its influence, it had never been possible that we could hear, or
see, or speak, or think, or live, or be any thing, nor that
any other thing could ever have been, when as the effects that
serve so justly to endear and recommend to us civil govern-
ment, (as peace, safety, order, quiet possession of our rights,)
we cannot but, know, are not inseparably and incommunLcably
appropriate, or to be attributed to the person of this or that
particular and mortal governor, but may also proceed from
another : yea and the same benefits may (for some short time
at least) be continued Avifhout any such government at all.
Nor is this intended merely as a rhetorical scheme of speech,
to beguile or amuse the unwary reader : but, without arro-
gating any thing, or attributing more to it, than that it is an
altogether in-artificial and very defective, but true and naked
representation of the very case itself as it is. It is professedly
propounded, as having somewhat solidly argumentative in it.
That is, that (whereas there is most confessedly sufficient, yet)
there is unspeakably less evidence to most people in the world,
under civil government ; that there actually is such a govern-
ment existent over them ; and that they are under obligation
to be subject to it ; than there is of the existence of a Deify,
and the consequent reasonableness of religion. If therefore
the ordinary effects and indications of the former be sufficient
which have so contingent and uncertain a connexion with their
causes, (while those which are more extraordinary are so ex-
ceeding rare with the most,) why shall not the more cer.
tain ordinary discoveries of the latter be judged sufficient
though the most have not the immediate notice of any such
extraordinary appearances as those are which have been before
mentioned ?
Moreover, Thirdly, I yet demand further, whether it may
be thought possible for any one to have a full rational cer-
tainty that another person is a reasonable creature, and hatli
THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
in him a rational soul, so as to judge he hath sufficient ground
and obligation to converse with him, and carry towards him
as a man? Without the supposition of this, the foundation of
all human society and civil conversation is taken away. And
•what evidence have we of it, whereunto that which we have of
the being of God (as the foundation of religious and godly con-
versation) will not at least be found equivalent.
Will we say that mere human shape is enough to prove
such a one a man ? A philosopher would deride us, as the
Stagyrite's disciples are said to have done the Platonic man.
But we will not be so nice. We acknowledge it is, if no
circumstances concur (as sudden appearing, vanishing, trans-
formation or the like) that plainly evince the contrary; so
far as to infer upon us an obligation not to be rude and un-
civil ; that we use no violence, nor carry ourselves abusively
towards one that only thus appears a human creature. Yea,
and to perform any duty of justice or charity towards him
within our power, which Ave owe to a man as a man. As
suppose we see him wronged or in necessity, and can presently
right or relieve him ; though he do not or cannot represent
to us more of his case than our own eyes inform us of. And
should an act of murder be committed upon one whose true
humanity was not otherwise evident, would not the offender be
justly liable to the known and common punishment of that
offence ? Nor could he acquit himself of transgressing the
laws of humanity, if he should only neglect any seasonable
act of justice or mercy towards him, whereof he beholds the
present occasion. But if any one were disposed to cavil, or
play the sophist, how much more might be said, even by
infinite degrees, to oppose this single evidence of any one's true
humanity, than ever was or can be brought against the entire
concurrent evidence we have of the existence of God. It is,
here, most manifestly just and equal, thus to state the case,
and compare the whole evidence we have of the latter, with
that one of the former ; inasmuch as that one alone is appa-
rently enough to oblige us to carry towards such a one as a
man. And if that alone be sufficient to oblige us to acts of
justice or charity towards man, he is strangely blind that can-
not see infinitely more to oblige him to acts of piety towards
God.
But if we would take a nearer and more strict view of this
parallel, we would slate the general and more obvious aspect
of this world on the one hand, and the external aspect and
shape of a man on the other ; and should then see the former
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 207
cloth evidence to us an in-dwelling* Deity diffused through the
whole and actuating* every part with incomparably greater cer-
tainty, than the latter doth, an in-dwelling reasonable soul.
In which way we shall find what will aptly serve our present
purpose, though wc are far from apprehending any such union
of the blessed God with this world, as is between the soul and
body of a man. It is manifestly possible to our understand-
ings, that there may be, and (if any history or testimony of
others be worthy to be believed) certain to experience and
sense, that there often hath been, the appearance of human
shape and of agreeable actions without a real man. But it is
no way possible such a world as this should have ever been
without God. That there is a world, proves that eternal Being
to exist, whom we take to be God, (suppose we it as rude a
heap as at first it was, or as we can suppose it,) as external
appearance represents to us that creature which we take to be
a man: but that as a certain infallible discovery, necessarily
true ; this but as a probable and conjectural one, and (though
highly probable) not impossible to be false.
And if we will yet descend to a more particular inquiry into
this matter, which way can we fully be ascertained that this
supposed man is truly and really what he seems to be ? This
we know not how to go about, without recollecting what is
the differencing notion we have of a man ; that he is a reasonable,
living creature, or a reasonable soul, inhabiting, and united with
a body. And how do we think to descry that, here, which
may answer this common notion we have of a man ? Have we
any way besides that discovery which the acts and effects of
reason do make of a rational or intelligent Being ? We will
look more narrowly, that is, unto somewhat else than his ex-
ternal appearance ; and observe the actions that proceed from
a more distinguishing principle in him, that he reasons, dis-
courses, doth business, pursues designs ; in short, he talks and
acts as a reasonable creature : and hence we conclude him to
be one, or to have a reasonable soul in him.
And have we not the same way of procedure in the other
case? Our first view or taking notice of a world full of life
and motion, assures us of an eternal active Being, besides it,
which we take to be God, having now before our eyes a darker
shadow of him only, as the external bulk of the human body
is only the shadow of a man. Which, when Ave behold it
stirring and moving, assures us there is somewhat besides that
grosser bulk, (that of itself could not so move,) which we take
lo be the soul of a man. Yet, as a principle that can move
£03 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
the body makes not up the entire notion of this soul, so an eter-
nal active being, that moves the matter of the universe, makes
not up the lull notion of God. We are thus far sure in both
cases, that is, of some mover distinct from what is moved.
But we are not yet sure, by what we hitherto see, what the one
or the other is. But as when we have upon the first sight
thought it was a reasonable soul that was acting in the former;
or a man, (if we will speak according to their sense who make
the soul the mat),) in order to being sure, (as sure as the case
can admit,) we have no other way, but to consider what be-
longs more distinguish ingly to the notion of a man, or of a rea-
sonable soul ; and observe how actions and effects, which we
have opportunity to take notice of, do answer thereto, or serve
to discover that. So when we would be sure what that eternal
Relive Being is (which that, it is, we are already sure, and)
which we have taken to be God, that, I say, we may be sure
of that also, we have the same thing to do. That is, to con-
sider what more peculiarly belongs to the entire notion of God,
(and would even in the judgment of opposers be acknowledged
to belong to it,) and see whether his works, more narrowly in-
spected, do not bear as manifest correspondency to thai notion
of God, as the works and actions of a man do to the notion we
have of him. And certainly we cannot but tind they do cor-
respond as much. And that, upon a serious and considerate
view of the works and appearances of God in the world ; hav-
ing diligently observed and pondered the vastness and beauty
of this universe, the variety, the multitude, the order, the ex-
quisite shapes and numerous parts, the admirable and useful
composure, of particular creatures; and especially the consti-
tution and powers of the reasonable soul of man itself; we can-
not, surely, if we be not under the possession of a very volun-
tary and obstinate blindness, and the power of a most vicious
prejudice, but acknowledge the making, sustaining, and go-
verning such a world, is as God-like, as worthy of God, and
as much becoming him, according to the notion that hath been
assigned of him, as at leastthe common actions of ordinary men,
are of a man ; or evidence the doer of them to be a human
creature. Yea, and with this advantageous difference, that
the actions of a man do evidence a human creature more un-
certainly, and so as it is possible the matter may be otherwise.
But. these works of God do with so plain and demonstrative
evidence discover him the Author of them, that it is altogether
impossible they could ever otherwise have been doiie.
Now therefore, if we have as clear evidence of a Deitv 3 as
2
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 200
we can have, in a way not unsuitable to the nature and present
state of man ; (and we can have in a suitable way, that which
is sufficient;) if wc have clearer and more certain evidence of
God's government over the world, than most men have or can
have, of the existence of their secular rulers ; yea, more sure
than that there are men on earth, and that thence (as far as the
existence of God will make towards it) there is a less disputable
ground for religious than for civil conversation ; we may reckon
ourselves competently well ascertained, and have no longer
reason to delay the dedication of a temple to him, upon any
pretence of doubt, whether we have an object of worship exist-
ing, yea or no.
Wherefore we may also by the way take notice how im-
pudent a thing is atheism, that by the same fulsome and poison-
ous breath whereby it would blast religion, would despoil man
of his reason and apprehensive power, even in reference to the
most apprenhensible tiling: would blow away the rights of
princes, and all foundations of policy and government, and
destroy all civil commerce and conversation out of the world,
and yet blushes not at the attempt of so foul things.
VIII. And here it may perhaps prove worth our while
(though it can be no pleasant contemplation) to pause a little,
and make some short reflections upon the atheistical temper
and genius, so as therein to remark some few more obvious
characters of atheism itself.
And such as have not been themselves seized by the infa-
tuation, cannot but judge it, first, a most unreasonable thing,
a perverse and cross-grained humour, that so oddly writhes
and warps the mind of a man, as that it never makes any effort
or offer at any thing against the Deity; but it therein doth
(by a certain sort of serpentine involution and retortion) seem
to design a quarrel with itself: that is, with (what one would
think should be most intimate and natural to the mind of man)
his very reasoning power, and the operations thereof. So near
indeed was the ancient alliance between God and man, (his
own Son, his likeness and living image,) and consequently be-
tween reason and religion, that no man can ever be engaged
in an opposition to God and his interest, but he must be equally
so to himself and his own. And any one that takes notice how
the business is carried by an atheist, must think, in order to
his becoming one, his first plot was upon himself: to assassine
his own intellectual faculty, by a sturdy resolution, and violent
imposing on himself, not to consider, or use his thoughts, at
least, with any indifferency, but with a treacherous pretfeter-
vol. i. 2 E
SiO THE LIVING TEMPLE. PARTI,
mi nation to the part resolved on before-hand. Otherwise, it
is hard to be imagined how it should ever have been possible
that so plain and evident proofs of a Deity as every where offer
themselves unto observation, even such as have been here pro-
posed, (that do even lie open, for the most part, to common
apprehension, and needed little search to find them out ; so
that it was harder to determine what not to say, than what to
say,) could be over-looked.
For what could be more easy and obvious, than taking notice
that there is somewhat in being, to conclude that somewhat
must be of itself, from whence whatever is not so, must have
sprung ? That, since there is somewhat effected or made, (as
is plain, in that some things are alterable, and daily altered,
which nothing can be that is of itself, and therefore, a neces-
sary being,) those effects have then had an active being for
their cause ? That since these effects are partly such as bear
the manifest characters of wisdom and design upon them, and
are partly, themselves, wise and designing ; therefore they
must have had a wisely active and designing cause ? So much
would plainly conclude the sum of what we have been plead-
ing for ; and what can be plainer or doth require a shorter
turn of thoughts ? At this easy expense might any one that had
a disposition to use his understanding to such a purpose, save
himself from being an atheist. And where is the flaw ? What
joint is not firm and strong in this little frame of discourse*
which yet arrogates nothing to the contriver ; for there is no-
thing in it worthy to be called contrivance : but things do them-
selves lie thus. And what hath been further said concerning
the perfection and oneness of this Cause of all things, (though
somewhat more remote from common apprehension,) is what is
likely would appear plain and natural to such as would allow
themselves the leisure to look more narrowly into such things.
Atheism therefore seems to import a direct and open hos-
tility against the most native, genuine, and facile dictates of
common reason. And being so manifest an enemy to it, we
cannot suppose it should be at all befriended by it. For reason
will be always true and constant to itself, whatsoever false
shews of it a bad cause doth sometimes put on ; that having
yet somewhat a more creditable name, and being of a little
more reputation in the world, than plain downright madness
and folly. And it will appear how little it is befriended, bjr
any thing that can justly bear that name, if we consider the
pitiful shifts the atheist makes for his forlorn cause ; and what
infirm tottering supports the whole frame of atheism rests upon.
4
CHAP. V. THE LIVIVG TEMPLE. 211
For what is there to be said for their hypothesis, or against the
existence of God, and the dnencss of religion ? For it, there
is directly nothing at all. Only a possibility is alleg; d, things
might be as they are, though God did not exist. Arid if this
were barely possible, how little doth that signify? Where
reason is not injuriously dealt with, it is permitted the liberty
of balancing things equally, and of considering which scale
hath most weight. And is he not perfectly blind, that sees not
what violence is done to free reason in this matter ? Are there
not thousands of things, not altogether impossible, which \<A
he would be concluded altogether out of his wits, that should
profess to be of the opinion they are, or were actually so ? And
as to the present case, how facile and unexceptionable, how
plain and intelligible, is the account that is giv r en of the original
of this world, and the things contained in it, by resolving all
into a Deity, the Author and Maker of them? AVhereas
the wild, extravagant suppositions of atheists, if they were ad-
mitted possible, are the most unlikely that could be devised.
So that if there had been any to have laid wagers, when things
were taking their beginning, there is nobody that would not
have ventured thousands to one, that no such frame of things
(no not so much as one single mouse or flea) would ever have
hit. And how desperate hazards the atheist runs, upon this
mere supposed possibility, it will be more in our way to take
notice by and by. But besides, that pretended possibility
plainly appears none at all. It is impossible any thing should
spring up of itself out of nothing ; that any thing that is alter-
able, should have been necessarily of itself, such as it now is ;
that what is of itself unactive, should be the maker of other
things ; that the Author of all the wisdom in the world, should
be, himself, unwise. These cannot but be judged most ab-
solute impossibilities, to such as do not violence to their own
minds; or with whom reason can be allowed any the least ex-
ercise. Wherefore the atheistical spirit is most grossly un-
reasonable, in withholding assent, where the most ungainsay-
able reason plainly exacts it.
And are not the atheist's cavils as despicably silly against
the Deity, and (consequently) religion? Whosoever shall
consider their exceptions against some things in the notion of
God, eternity, infinity, &c. which themselves, in the nieau
lime, are forced to place elsewhere, will he not see they talk
idly ? And as for such other impeachments of his wisdom,
justice, and goodness, as they take their ground for, from- the
state of affairs, in some respects, in this present world, (manj
212 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
of which may be seen in Lucretius, and answered by Dr. More
in his Dialogues,) how inconsiderable will they be, to any
one that bethinks himself, with how perfect and generous a
liberty this world was made, by one that needed it not; who
had no design, nor could have inclination to a fond, self-in-
dulgent, glorying and vaunting of his own work; who did it
with the greatest facility, and by an easy, uncxpensive vouch-
safement of his good pleasure; not with an operose curiosity,
studious to approve itself to the peevish eye of every froward
Momus, or to the nauseous, squeamish gust of every sensual
Epicure. And (o such as shall not confine their mean thoughts
to that V( ry clod or ball of earth on which they live ; which,
as it is a very small part, may, for aught we knoAv, but be the
worst Or most abject part of God's creation, which yet is full
of his goodness, and hath most manifest prints of his other ex-
cellencies besides, as hath been observed ; or that shall not
look upon the present state of things as the eternal state, but
upon this world only as an antichamber to another, which
shall abide in most unexceptionable perfection for ever : — how
fond and idle, I say, will all such cavils appear to one that shall
but thus use his thoughts, and not think himself bound to mea-
sure his conceptions of God, by the uncertain, rash dictates
of men born in the dark, and that talk at random; nor shall
affix any thing to him, which plain reason doth not dictate, or
which he doth not manifestly assume, or challenge to himself.
But that because a straw lies in my way, I would attempt to
overturn heaven and earth, what raging frenzy is this ?
.Again, it is, secondly, a base, abject temper, speaks a mind
sunk and lost in carnality, and that having dethroned and ab-
jured reason, hath abandoned itself to the hurry of vile appetite,
and sold its liberty and sovereignty for the insipid, gustless
pleasures of sense ; an unmanly thing — a degrading of one's
self. For if there be no God, what am 1 ? A piece of moving,
thinking clay, whose ill-compacted parts will shortly fly
asunder, and leave no other remains of me than what shall be-
come the prey and triumph of worms!
It is, thirdly, a sad, mopish, disconsolate temper ; cuts off
and quite banishes all manly, rational joy ; all that might
spring from the contemplation of the divine excellencies and
glory, shining in the works of his hands. Atheism clothes the
world in black, draws a dark and duskish cloud over all things;
doth more to damp and stifle all relishes of intellectual plea-
sure, than it would of sensible, to extinguish the sun. What
is this world (if we should suppose it still to subsist) without
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 213
God ? How grateful an entertainment is it to a pious miud to
behold his glory stamped on every creature, sparkling in every
providence ; and by a firm and rational faith to believe (when
Ave cannot see) how all events are conspiring to bring about the
most happy and blissful state of things ? The atheist may
make the most of this world ; he knows no pleasure, but what
can be drawn out of its dry breasts, or found in its cold em-
braces ; which yields as little satisfaction, as lie finds, whose
arms, aiming to inclose a dear friend, do only clasp a stiff
and clammy carcass. How uncomfortable a thing is it to him,
that having neither power nor wit to order things to his own
advantage or content, but finds himself liable to continual dis-
appointments, and the rencounter of many an unsuspected,
cross accident, hath none to repose on, that is wiser and
mightier than himself? But when he finds he cannot com-
mand his own affairs, to have the settled apprehension of an
Almighty Ruler, that can with the greatest certainty do it for
us the best way, and will, if we trust him — how satisfying and
peaceful a repose doth this yield ? And how much the rather,
inasmuch as that filial, unsuspicious confidence and trust,
which naturally tends to and begets that calm and quiet rest, is
the very condition required on my part ; and that the chief
thing I have to do, to have my affairs brought to a good pass,
is to commit them to his management ; and my only care, to
be careful in nothing. The atheist hath nothing to mitigate
the greatness of this loss, but that he knows not what he loses ;
which is an allay that will serve but a little while. And when
the most unsupportable, pressing miseries befal him, he must
in bitter agonies groan out his wretched soul without hope,
and sooner die under his burden, than say, Where is God my
Maker ? At the best, he exchanges all the pleasure and com-
posure of mind which certainly accompany a dutiful, son-like
trust, submission, and resignation of ourselves, and all our
concernments, to the disposal of fatherly wisdom and love, for
a sour and sullen succumbency to an irresistible fate or hard
necessity, against which he sees it is vain to contend. So
that at the best he only not rages, but tastes nothing of con-
solation ; whereof his spirit is as uncapable, as his desperate
affairs are of redress. And if behave arrived to that measure
of fortitude, as not to be much discomposed with the lighter
crosses which he meets with in this short time of life, what a
dreadful cross is it that he must die ! How dismal a thing is
a certain, never to be avoided death! Against which as
atheism hath not surely the advantage of religion in giving
2I4r THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART T.
protection ; so it hath greatly the disadvantage, in affording
no relief. What would the joy be worth in that hour, that
arises from the hope of the glory to be revealed ? And is the
want of that, the total sum of the atheist's misery at this hour?
"What heart can conceive the horror of that one thought, if
darted in upon him at that time, (as it is strange, and more
sad, if it be not,) What becomes now of me, if there prove to
be a God ? Where are my mighty demonstrations, upon which
one may venture, and which may cut oft* all fear and danger
of future calamity in this dark, unknown state I am going
into ? Shall I be the nest hour nothing, or miserable ? Or if I
had opportunity, shall I not have sufficient cause to proclaim,
(as* once one of the same fraternity did, by way of warning
to a surviving companion) — A great and a terrible God ! A
great and a terrible God ! A great and a terrible God !
I only add, it is, fourthly, a most strangely mysterious and
unaccountable temper ; such as is hardly reducible to its
proper causes : so that it would puzzle any man's inquiry to
find out or even give bid probable conjectures, how so odd
and preternatural a disaffection as atheism should ever come to
have place in a human mind. It must be concluded a very
complicated disease, and yd, when our thoughts have fasten-
ed upon several things that have an aspect that way, as none of
them alone could infer it, so it is hard to imagine, how all of
them together should ever come to deprave reasonable nature
to such a degree.
1. It is most astonishingly marvellous (though it is apparent
this distemper hath its rise from an ill will) that any should so
much as will that which the atheist hath obtained of himself to
believe ; or affect to be, what he is.
The commonness of this vile disposition of will, doth but
sorrily shift off the wonder, and only with those slight and
trilling minds that have resigned the office of judging things
to their (more active) senses, and have learned the easy way of
Avaving all inquiries about common things, or resolving the ac-
count into this only, that they are to be seen every day. But
* Which story I confidently refer to, being of late date, and having
had a certain and circumstantial account of it, by one (a very sober and
intelligent person) who had the relation from him to whom that dreadful
warning was given, by his then lately deceased associate. But I shall
not by a particular relation gratify the scorn of this sort of men, who,
taking advantage from the (sometime deceived) credulity of well-mean-
ing people, have but that way of answering all such things, by the one
word which served once so learnedly to confute Bellarmine.
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 215
if we allowed ourselves to consider this matter soberly, we
should soon find, that howsoever it must plainly appear a
very common plague upon the spirits of men (and universal
till a cure be wrought) to say, by way of wish, No God, or
I would there were none : yet, by the good leave of them who
would thus easily excuse the thing, the commonness of this
horrid evil doth so little diminish, that it increases the wonder.
Things are more strange, as their causes are more hardly as-
signable. What should the reason be, that a being of so in-
comparable excellency, so amiable and alluring glory, purity,
love, and goodness, is become undesirable and hateful to his
own creatures ! that such creatures, his more immediate,
peculiar offspring, stamped with his likeness, the so vivid
resemblances of his own spiritual, immortal nature, are become
so wickedly unnatural towards their common and most indul-
gent parent ! what, to wish him dead ! to envy life and being,
to him from whom they have received their own ! It is as
.strange as it is without a cause. But they have offended him,
are in a revolt, and sharply conscious of fearful demerits.
And who would not wish to live, and to escape so unsupport-
able revenge ? It is still strange we would ever offend such a
one! Wherein were his laws unequal, his government grie-
vous ? But since we have, this only is pertinent to be said by
them that have no hope of forgiveness, that are left to despair of
reconciliation — Why do we sort ourselves with devils ? We
profess not to be such .
Yea, but we have no hope to be forgiven the sin we do not
leave, nor power to leave the sin which now we love. This,
instead of lessening, makes the wonder a miracle. O wretched,
forlorn creature ! Wouldest thou have God out of being for
this ? (I speak to thee who dost not yet profess to believe there
is no God, but dost only wish it.) The sustainer of the
world ! the common basis of all being ! Dost thou know what
thou sayest ? Art thou not wishing thyself and all things into
nothing ? This, rather than humble thyself, and beg forgive-
ness ! This, rather than become again a holy, pure, obe-
dient creature, and again blessed in him, who first made
thee so ! It can never cease, I say, to be a wonder, we
never ought to cease wondering, that ever this befel the na-
ture of man, to be prone to wish such a thing, that there were
no God !
But this is, it is true, the too common case ; and if we will
only have what is more a rarity go for a wonder, how amazing
then is it,
216 THE LfYTNG TEMPLE. PART I.
2. That if any man would, even never so fain, lie ever
can make himself believe there is no God! and shape his
horrid course according to that most horrid misbelief! By
what fatal train of causes is this ever brought to pass ? Into
what can we devise to resolve it ?
Why such as have arrived to this pitch are much addicted
to the pleasing of their senses ; and this they make their busi-
ness ; so as that, for a long time, they have given themselves
no leisure to mind objects of another nature ; especially that
should anyway tend to disturb them in their easy course ; un-
til they are gradually fallen into a forgetful sleep, and the
images of things are worn out with them, that had only more
slightly touched their minds before. And being much used to
go by the suggestions of sense, they believe not what they nei-
ther see nor feel;
This is somewhat, but does not reach the mark ; for there
are many very great sensualists, (as great as they at least,)
w ho never arrive hither, but firmly avow it that they believe a
Deity, whatsoever mistaken notion they have of him ; where-
upon they imagine to themselves impunity in their vicious
course.
But these, it maybe said, have so disaccustomed themselves
to the exercise of their reason, that they have no disposition
to use their thoughts about any thing above the sphere of
sense ; and have contracted so dull and sluggish a temper,
that they are no fitter to mind or employ themselves in any
speculations that tend to beget in them the knowledge of God,
than any man is for discourse or business when he is fast
asleep.
So indeed, in reason, one would expect to find it; but the
case is so much otherwise, when Ave consider particular in-
stances, that we are the more perplexed and entangled in this
inquiry, by considering how agreeable it is, that the matter
should be thus ; and observing that it proves, oft-times, not
to be so : insomuch that reason and experience seem herein
not to agree, and hence we are put again upon new conjectures
what the immediate cause of this strange malady should be.
For did it proceed purely from a sluggish temper of mind,
unapt to reasoning and discourse ; the more any were so, the
more disposed they should be to atheism : whereas, every one
knows that multitudes of persons of dull and slow minds, io
any thing of ratiocination, would rather you should burn their
houses, than tell them they did not believe in God ; and would
presently tell you, it were pity he should live, that should but
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 917
intimate a doubt whether there were a God or no. Yea, and
many, somewhat more intelligent, yet in this matter are shy of
using their reason, and think it unsafe, if not profane, to go
about to prove that there is a God, lest they should move a
doubt, or seem hereby to make a question of it. And in the
mean time, while they offer not at reasoning, they more mean-
ly supply that want, after a sorry fashion, from their educa-
tion, the tradition of their fore-fathers, common example, and
the universal profession and practice of some religion round
about them ; and it may be only take the matter for granted,
because they never heard such a thing was ever doubted of or
called in question in all their lives.
Whereas, on the other hand, they who incline to atheism
are perhaps some of them the greatest pretenders to reason.
They rely little upon authority of former times and ages, upon
vulgar principles and maxims, but are vogued great masters
of reason, diligent searchers into the mysteries of nature, and
can philosophize (as sufficiently appears) beyond all imagina-
tion. But it is hoped it may be truly said, for the vindication
of philosophy and them that profess it, that modern atheists
have little of that to gdorv in ; and that their chief endowments
are only their skill to please their senses, and a faculty with a
pitiful sort of drollery to tincture their cups, and add a grace
to their otherwise dull and flat conversation. Yet all this
howsoever being considered, there is here but little advance
made to the finding out whence atheism should proceed. For,
that want of reason should be thought the cause, what hath
been already said seems to forbid. That many ignorant parsons
seem possessed with a great awe of a Deity, from which divers,
more knowing, have delivered themselves. And .yet neither
doth the former signify any thing (in just intrepretation) to the
disrepute of religion. For truth is not the less tne, for that
some hold it they know not how or why. Nor doth the latter
make to the reputation of atheism, inasmuch as men, other-
wise rational, may sometimes learnedly dote. But it confirms
us that atheism is a strange thing;, when its extraction and
pedigree are so hardly found oat, and it seems to be directly of
the lineage, neither of knowledge nor ignorance, neither sound
reason nor perfect dotage.
Nor doth it at all urge to say, And why may we not as well
stand wondering, whence the apprehension of a God, and an
addictcdncss to religion should come, when we find them pe-
culiar neither to the more knowing nor the more ignorant ?
vol. i. 2 f
SIS THE LIVING TEMPLE. PARTI*
For they are apparently and congruously enough to be de-
rived from somewhat common to them both — the impression
of a Deity, universally put upon the minds of all men, (which
atheists have made a shift to raze out, or obliterate to that
degree, as to render it illegible,) and that cultivated by the
exercise of reason, in some, and in others, less capable of that
help, somewhat confirmed by education, and the other acces-
saries mentioned above.
S, Therefore is this matter still most mysteriously intricate,
that there should be one temper and persuasion, agreeing to
tzco so vastly different sorts of persons, while yet Ave are to
seek for a cause (except what is most tremendous to think of)
from whence it should proceed, that is common to them both.
And here is, in short, the sum of the wonder, that any, not
appearing very grossly unreasonable in other matters, (which
cannot be denied even of some of the more sensual and lewder
sort of atheists,) should, in so plain and important a case, be
so, beyond all expression, absurd ; that they without scruple
are pleased to think like other men in matters that concern and
relate to common practice, and wherein they might more
colourably, and with less hazard, go out of the common road;
and are here only so dangerously and madly extravagant.
Their's is therefore the dementia quoad hoe, a particular mad-
ness ; so much the stranger thing, because they whom it
possesses do only in this one case put off themselves, and are
like themselves and other men in all things else. If they
reckoned it a glory to be singular, they might (as hath been
plainly shewn) more plausibly profess it as a principle, that
they are not bound to believe the existence of any secular ru-
ler (and consequently not be subject to any) longer than they
sec him, and so subvert all policy and government ; or pre-
tend an exemption from all obligation to any act of justice, or
to forbear the most injurious violence towards any man, because
they are not infallibly certain any one they see is a human
wight, and so abjure all morality, as they already have so
great a part ; than offer with so fearful hazard to assault the
Deity, (of whose existence, if they would but think a while,
they might be most infallibly assured,) or go about to subvert
the foundations of religion. Or, if they would get themselves
glory bv great adventures, or show themselves brave men by
expressing a fearless contempt of divine power and justice;
this fortitude is not human. These are without the compass of
its object ; as inundations, earthquakes, &e., are -said to be.
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 219
unto which, that any one should fearlessly expose himself,
can bring no profit to others, nor therefore glory to him.
In all this harangue of discourse, the design hath not been to
fix upon any true cause of atheism, but to represent it a strange
thing ; and an atheist, a prodigy, a monster, amongst man-
kind ; a dreadful spectacle, forsaken of the common aids af-
forded to other men ; hung up in chains to warn others, and
let them see what a horrid creature man may make himself by
voluntary aversion from God that made him.
In the mean time, they upon whom this dreadful plague is
not fallen, may plainly see before them the object of that wor-
ship which is imported by a temple — an existing Deity, a God
to be worshipped. Unto whom we shall yet see further rea-
son to design and consecrate a temple for that end, and even
ourselves to become such, when we have considered what
comes next to be spoken of: his cowcersableness xcith men.
CHAP. VI.
I. The subject of the second chapter continued; wherein is inquired,
SECONDLY, What is intended by Cod's conversableness with men,
considered only as fundamental and presupposed to a temple. II. An
account of the Epicurean Deity. 1. Its existence impossible any way
to be proved, if it did exist. 2. Nor can be affirmed to any good in-
tent. 3. That such a being is not God. 4. That it belongs to the true
notion of Cod, that he is such as can converse with men. III. That
the absolute perfection proved of God represents him a fit object of
religion. From thence more particularly deduced to this purpose,
First, His omnisciency. Secondly, Omnipotency. Thirdly, Unlimited
goodness. Fourthly, Immensity. 1V T . Curcelkeus's arguments against
this last (his immensity) considered,
I- "TVT^^ * s * ne thing here intended less necessary to atem-
i.^1 pie and religion than what Ave have hitherto been dis-
coursing of. For such a sort of Deity as should shut up itself,
and be reclused from all converse with men, would leave us
as disfurnished of an object of religion, and would render a
temple on earth as vain a thing, as if there were none at all.
It were a being not to be worshipped, nor with any propriety
to be called God, more (in some respect less) than an image
220 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
or statue. We might with as rational design worship for a
God what were scarce worthy to be called the shadow of a man,
as dedicate temples to a wholly unconversable Deity. That is,
to such a one as not only rvill not vouchsafe to converse with
men, but that cannot admit, it ; or whose nature were altogether
incapable of such converse,
SECONDLY, We arc therefore to inquire what is intended
by God's conversableness with men ? For that measure and
latitude of sense must be allowed unto the expression, as that
it signifies both capachVy and propension to such converse :
that God is both by his nature capable of it, and hath a gra-
cious inclination of will thereunto. Yea and we will add,
(what is also not without the compass of our present theme nor
the import of this word whereby we generally express it,) that
he is not only inclined to converse with men, but that he ac-
tually doth it. As we call him a conversable person that upon;
all befitting occasions doth freely converse with such as have
any concern with him. It will indeed be necessary to distin-»
guish God's converse with men, into that which he hath in
common with all men, so as to sustain them in their beings,
and some way influence their actions ; (in which kind he is also
conversant with all his creatures ;) and that which he more
peculiarly hath with good men.
And though the consideration of the latter of these will be-
long to the discourse concerning his temple itself which he
hath with and in them ; yet it is the former only we have now
to consider as presupposed thereto, and as the ground thereof;
together with his gracious propension to the latter also.
As the great Apostle, in his discourse at Athens, lays the
same ground for acquaintance with God (which he intimates
should be set afoot and continued in another sort of temple
than is made with hands) that he hath given to all breath and
being and all things, and that he is near and ready, (whence
they should therefore seek him, if haply they might feel after
him, and find him out,) in order to further converse. And
here, our business will have the less in it of labour and diffi-
culty ; for that we shall have little else to do, besides only the
applying of principles already asserted (or possibly the more
express adding of some or other that were implied in what hath
been said) to this purpose. From which principles it will ap-
pear, that he not only can, but that in the former sense h«
doth converse with men, and is graciously inclined thereto
in the fatter. And yet because the former is more deeply fvn.
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 221
damental, as whereon all depends, and that the act of it is
not denied for any other reason than an imagined impossibility ;
that is, it is not said he doth not sustain and govern the world
upon any other pretence, but that he cannot, as being incon-
sistent with his nature and felicity. This we shall therefore
more directlv apply ourselves to evince, That his nature doth
not disallow it, but necessarily includes an aptitude thereto.
Nor yet, though it may be a less laborious work than the
former that we have dispatched, is it altogether needless to
deal somewhat more expressly in this matter ; inasmuch as
what opposition hath been made to religion in the world, hath
for the most part been more expressly directed against this
ground of it. I say more expressly ; for indeed by plain and
manifest consequence it impugns that also of God's existence :
that is, through this it strikes at the other. For surely (how-
soever any may arbitrarily, and with what impropriety and
latitude of speech they please, bestow titles and eulogies here
or there) that being is not God, that cannot converse with
men, supposing them such as what purely and peculiarly be-
longs to the nature of man would bespeak them. So that they
who have imagined such a being, and been pleased to call it
God, have at once said and unsaid the same thing. That Deity
was but a creature, and that only of their own fancy ; and
they have by the same breatli blown up and blasted their own
bubble, made it seem something and signify nothing : have
courted it into being, and rioted it again quite out of it. In
their conceit, created it a God, in their practice, a mere nul-
lity. And it equally served their turn and as much favoured
the design of being wicked, to acknowledge only a God they
could imagine and dis-imagine at their own pleasure, as to
have acknowledged none at all. It could do no prejudice to
their affairs to admit of this fictitious Deity that they could
make be what, or where they pleased ; that should affect ease
and pleasure, and (lest his pleasures and theirs should inter-
fere) that they could confine to remote territories, and oblige
to keep at an obedient and untroublesome distance. Nor,,
though no imagination could be more madly extravagant than
that of a God no way concerned in the forming and governing
of the world ; and notwithstanding whom, men might take
their liberty to do what they listed ; yet (as hath been observ-
ed long ago, that no opinion was ever so monstrously absurd,
as not to be owned by some of the philosophers) hath not this
wanted patronage, and even among them who have obtained
to be esteemed (not to say idolized) under that name. Which
522 T«E LTTIXG TEMPLE. PAHT I.
would be seen, if it were worth the while to trouble the reader
with an account of the Epicurean Deity.
II. This can be done only with this design, that the repre-
sentation may render it (as it cannot but do) ridiculous to sober
men ; and discover to the rest, the vanity of their groundless
and self-contradicting hope, (si ill too much fostered in the
breasts of not a few,) who promise themselves impunity in the
most licentious course of wickedness, upon the security only
of this their own idle dream. That is, that if there be a God,
(which they reckon it not so plausible flatly to deny,) he is a
being of either so dull and phlegmatic a temper that he cannot
be concerned in the actions and affairs of men, or so soft and
easy that he will not. But because his good will alone was
not so safely to be relied on, it was thought the securer way
not to let it be in his power to intermeddle with their concern-
ments. And therefore being to frame their own God, to their
own turn, the matter was of old contrived thus.
Great care was taken, First, That he be set at a distance
remote enough ; that he be complimented out of this world, as
a place too mean for his reception, and unworthy such a pre-
sence ; they being indeed unconcerned where he had his resi-
dence, so it were not too near them. So that a confinement of
him somewhere, was thought altogether necessary. *
And then, Secondly, With the same pretence of great ob-
servance and respect, it is judged too great a trouble to him,
and inconsistent with the felicity of his nature and being, that
he should have given himself any diversion or disturbance, by
making the world ; from the care and labour whereof he is
with all ceremony to be excused, it being too painful and
laborious an undertaking for an immortal and a happy being.
Besides that he was altogether destitute of instruments and uten-
sils requisite to so great a performance, t
* Ac designate quidem non licet quibus in locis Dii degant. Cum ne
poster quid em hie mundus, digna sit iljorum sedes — It is unlawful to as-
sign any places as habitations of the gods; since this world itself is un-
worthy of being their residence. Phil. Epiciif. Sj/tifag.
j" — n Si<« tyvtris tsqos ftxvrx [/.rioxijJn in^a-xyiy^u, i>.Xx a.\siTupyrir&>
otetrngnerStot, xxi h ry Trxarj j,'.xy.xfioTvrt — The divine nature must not
he applied to these [inferior] objects, but must be preserved free from all
occupation, and in perfect happiness. Lacrl/us, I. 10.
Qua- moliti->, quas ferramenta, qui vectes, qua; machinae, qui minisfri
fanti muncri' fuerunt — What toil, what immense machinery, what at-
tendants, must such a task have required ! Veil, apud Cictr. tit natura
Deorum.
CHAP. VT. THE LIVING TEMPLE, 22$
Whence also, Thirdly, He was with the same reason to be
excused of all the care and encumbrance of government ; * as
indeed, what right or pretence could lie have to the govern-
ment of a world that chose him not, which is not his inherit-
ance, and which he never made ? But all is very plausibly
* Nihil beatius, nihil omnino bonis omnibus affluentius excogitari po-
test. Nihil enim agit, nullis occupationibus est implicatus, &c. — Nothing
can be imagined more happy, nothing more abundant in all possible
kinds of enjoyment: for he does nothing, he is involved in no concerns,
&C. Id. "Otoui, tt/v Sfiasv tyicrtv f*w Xsnrv^yiuv duoXvtiHjiv — 1 hey destroy
the divine nature, when they fail to represent it as ceasing from every
kind of work. Laert.ibid. Itaque imposuistis cervicibis nostris sempi-
ternum dominum, quern, dies & noctes, timeremus. Quis enim non
timeat omnia providentem, & cogitantem, & animadvertentem, & om-
nia ad se pertinere putantem, curiosum & plenum negotii Deum — So vuu
have imposed on our necks a perpetual master, whom we should dread
day and night! For who would not dread a God of universal foresight,
and thought, and judgment, a God who claimed a right to all things, a
God of attention and full of concerns ? Veil, ubi supra. Humana ante
oculos foede cum vita jacere. In terris oppmsa gravi sub religionePrjaaua
Graius homo mortalis —
Not thus mankind. Them long the tyrant power
Of superstition swayed, Uplifting proud
Her head to heaven, and with horrific limbs
Brooding o'er earth; till he, the man of Greece,
Auspicious rose. Good's Transl.
{meaning Epicurus, the first champion of irreligion.) Lucret. To vhich
purpose besides -what ive have in Letert. To /j.xxcicfioy y.xi afS*£Toy, Sre xvrl
•KgocyfAZTa. tyti, hts a.\\w ntos-^tyti iff oun ogyits, ovrs ya.^iat crvv'iytlzf |»
i.'jSvjc'i yap TiS.t to to/«W — The blessed and immortal being hath no af-
fairs to mind, nor attends to any thing so as to be affected by passions
either painful or agreeable : for every such affection is an attiibute of
weakness. /. 10. Much more is collected in the Synlagm. Nam &
prsestans Deorum natura hominum pietate coleretur, cum sterna esset &
beatissima. Mabet enim venerationem justam quicquid excdlit. Et me-
tusomni,;, a vi atque ira Deorum pulsus esset. Intelligitur enim a beata
immortalique natura, & iram & gratiam segregari. Quibus remotis,
nullos a superis impendere metus, Sec. — The supreme divine nature
should be served by the homage of men, since it is eternal and infinitely
happy. For all excellence is entitled to respect. All fear from the power
and anger of the gods should be banished ; for it is the attribute of the
blessed and immortal nature to be infinitely remote from the passions of
wrath or kindness; which being excluded from our consideration, no
dread need be entertained of the gods, Src. Sect. 1. cap. 3. An & mun-
dum. fecit, & in mundo homines ut ab hominibus coieretur ? At quid
Deo cultus hominum confert, beato, &: nulla re indigenti — Did lie create
the world, and yet is he to be served in the world, as men are by their
Billow-men ? But what advantage could ti.e services of men confer on
God, a being happy in himself and incapable of having any need ? Sect, 2.
cap. 3. .
224 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART f*
shadowed over with a great appearance of reverence and ve-
neration, with magnificent elogies of his never-interrupted fe-
licity ; whence also it is made a very great crime not to free
even the divine nature itself from business : though yet the
true ground and root of this Epicurean faith doth sometime
more apparently discover itself, even an impatiency of the di-
vine government, and a regret of that irksome bondage which
the acknowledgment of a Deity, that were to be feared by men,
would infer upon them.
And therefore, Fourthly, He is further expressly asserted to
be such as need not be feared, as cares not to be worshipped, as
with whom neither anger nor favour hath any place. So that
nothing more of duty is owing to him than a certain kind of
arbitrary veneration, which we give to any thing or person
that we apprehend to excel us, and to be in some respect
better than ourselves : an observance merely upon courtesy.
But obedience and subjection to his government, fear of his
displeasure, expectation of his favour and benefits, have no
place left them. We are not obliged to worship him as one
with whom we have any concern, and do owe him no more
homage than we have to the Great Mogul, or the Cham of
Tartary, and indeed are less liable to his severity, or capable
of his favours, than theirs ; for of theirs, we are in some re-
mote possibility, of his, in none at all. In one word, allcon-
verse between him and man, on his part by providence, and
on ours by religion, is quite cut off. Which evidently ap-
pears (from what hath been already collected out of his own
words, and theirs who pretended to speak that so admired au-
thor's mind and sense) to be the scope and sum of the Epi-
curean doctrine, in this matter ; and was indeed observed to
be so long ago, by one that we may suppose to have had bet-
ter opportunity and advantages to know it, than we : who,
discoursing that a man cannot live pleasantly, according to
the principles of Epicurus ; and that according to his doctrine
beasts are more happy than men ; plainly gives this reason *
* Kxt to; u fjt.iv !v Trj ttfoXv^ii th Jin Trjy CT£ovo;«y airiXtroy , styxitcwrb
«» lAn'iai ^fr^xTs irXiov ivovTis o; <£>fd»</xo; to>v Zripiwv vspQh to vpius (r» J
lirsi os TtX(ak r.v rn mpi §iuv \oyn, to [a* tpofitiaZxi Siov, xXXx tsxvuxaZxi
•nqxrlo^hdi, fisffxioTtgo* cu(Axt tSto, &c. — And truly, as they have left out
providence from their conception of the deity, do intellectual beings
possess any better hopes of happiness than the beasts ? Since their oliject,
in their doctrine about the gods, was to exclude (iod as an object of fear,
and to allay the terrors of men's minds, I deem this a very forcible argu-
ment against them. PluL
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 225
why lie says so, namely, that the Epicureans took away provi-
dence, and that the design of their discoursing concerning God
was, that we might not fear him.
Unto which purpose also much more may be seen in the
same author elsewhere, when he more directly pleads (among
divers more philosophical subjects) on behalf of religion
against the Epicurean doctrine, which he saith * they leave to us
in word and shew, but by their principles take away indeed, as
they do nature and the soul, &c.
It is then out of question, that the doctrine of Epicurus ut-
terly takes away all intercourse between God and man. Which
yet were little worth our notice or consideration, nor would
it answer any valuable end or purpose to revive the mention
of such horrid opinions, or tell the world what such a one
said or thought two thousand years ago ; if their grave had
been faithful to its trust, and had retained their filthy poisonous
savour within its own unhallowed cell.
But since ("against what were so much to have been desired,
that their womb might have been their grave) their grave becomes
their womb, where they are conceived, and formed anew, and
whence by a second birth they spring forth afresh, to the great
annoyance of the world, the debauching and endangering of
mankind ; and that it is necessary some remedy be endeavoured
of so mortal an evil, it was also convenient to run it up to its
original, and contend against it as in its primitive state and
vigour.
Wherefore this being a true (though it be a very short) ac-
count of the Epicurean god, resulting all into this shorter sum,
Adversus Colotem. n£$ ovv otito^.tlirtiiTt (pitriv kocl -^vyr,)/ xxi £wov ; us
ofxoy, us Iv%vh, us Zvanxv, us •GJgoaxwwv, pv^xn xctt Xoyv, axi t» (baiiou xx:
'Esgotj'rtoieivii&i xxi owjj.x(eiv , a. txis cc^yxis xxi toTs ooyuoariv avxipxtrtv—
How do they apparently admit nature and the soul and a living essence 1
As they admit of oaths, prayers, sacrifices, and acts of worship; in word
and pretence, in simulation and profession, while they destroy them by
their principles and doctrines. To which purpose is that also in Tully,
At etiam de sanctitate, de pietate adversus Deos libros scripsit Epicurus.
At quomodo in his loquitur? ut Coruncanium aut ScEevoIam Pontifices
maximos te audire dicas non eum, qui subtulerit omnem funditus reli-
gionem: Nee manibus ut Xerxes, sed rationibus Templa Deorum & aras
everterit — Yet Epicurus even wrote books on sanctity and on piety to the
gods. But how does he speak in them ? So that you might suppose you
were listening to the pontifices maximi Coruncanius or Scaevola. He
would destroy the temples and altars of the gods, not by violence, like
Xerxes, but by arguments. Dc natura Deorum,
vol.i. 2g
226 T1IF. LIVING TF..V.PL1!. I'ART T»
That lie is altogether unconversable with men, (and such there*
fore as cannot inhabit their temple, and for whom they can
have no obligation or rational design to provide any,) it will
be requisite in reference hereto, and suitable to our present.
scope and purpose, severally to evince these things : — That
the existence of such a being as this were impossible ever to
be proved unto men, if it did exist— That being supposed
without any good ground, it is equally unimaginable that the
supposition of it can intend any valuable or good end — That
this supposed being cannot be God, and is most abusively so
called ; as hereby, the true God, the Cause and Author of all
things, is intended to be excluded — That it belongs to, and
may be deduced from, the true notion of God which hath
been given, (and proved by parts of a really existent Being,) that
he is such as can converse with men.
1. That there is noway to prove the existence of such a be-
ing, is evident. For what ways of proving it can be thought of,
which the supposition itself doth not forbid and reject ? Is it
to be proved by revelation ? But that supposes converse with
men, and destroys what it should prove, that such a being,
having no converse with men, doth exist. And where is that
revelation ? Is it written or unwritten ; or who are its vouch-
ers ? Upon what authority doth it rest? Who was appointed
to inform the world in this matter ? Was Epicurus himself the
common oracle ? W hy did he never tell men so ? Did he
ever pretend to have seen any of these his vogucd gods ? No,
they are confessed not to be liable to our sense, any more than
the inane itself. And what miracles did he ever work to con-
firm the truth of his doctrine in this matter ? Which sure was
reasonably to be expected from one who would gain credit to
dictates so contrary to the common sentiments of the rest of
mankind, and that were not. to be proved any other way. And
what other way can be devised ? Can it admit of rational de-
monstration ? What shall be the medium ? Shall it be from
the cause ? But what cause can (or ever did) he or his fol-
lowers assign of God ? Or from elfects ? And what shall they
be, when the matter of the whole universe i-s supposed ever
to have been of itself, and the particular frame of every thing
made thereof, to have resulted only of the casual coalition of
tjtte parts of that matier, and no real being is supposed besides ?
Or shall it be that their idea, which they have of God, includes
existence, as so belonging to him that he cannot but exist ?
But by what right do they allix such an idea to their petile
3
C1TAP. VI. Till', LTVIYG TEMPT K. '> -7
and fictitious deities ? How will they prove their Idea true ?
Or arc we bound <o take their words for it ? Yea it is easily
proved false, and repugnant to itself, while they would have
dial to be necessarily existent (as they must if they will have
it existent at all) unto which, in the mean time, they deny the
other perfections which necessary existence hath been proved
to include. But how vain and idle trifling is it, arbitrarily
and by a random fancy to imagine any thins: what we please,
and attributing of our own special grace and favour neces-
sary existence to it, thence to conclude that it doth exist, only
because we have been pleased to make that belong to the no-
tion of it? What so odd and uncouth composition can we
form any conception of, which wc may not make exist, at this
rate ?
But the notion of God is not arbitrary, but is natural, pro-
leptical, and common to men, impressed upon the minds of
all : whence they say it ought not to be drawn into contro-
versy. What ! the Epicurean notion of him 2 We shall
inquire further into that anon. .And in the mean time need not
doubt to say, any man might with as good pretence imagine
the ridiculous sort of gods described in Cicero's ironical sup-
position,* and affirm them to exist, as they those they have
thought tit to feign, and would impose upon the belief of
men. And when they have fancied these to exist, is not that
ay mighty proof that they indeed do so ? But that which for
the present we allege, is, that supposing their notion were ever
so absolutely universal, and agreeing with the common senti-
ments of all other men, they have yet precluded themselves of
any right to argue, from its commonness, to the existence of
the thing itself. Nor can t]\cy upon their principles form
an argument thence, that shall conclude or signify any thing
to this purpose. None can be drawn hence, that will con-
clude immediately and itself reach the mark, witliout the ad-
dition of some further thing, which so ill sorts with the rest of
their doctrine, that it would subvert the whole frame. That
is, it follows not, that because men generally hold that there
is a God, that therefore there is one ; otherwise than as that
consequence can be justified by this plain and irrefragable
proof — That no reason can be devised of so general an agree-
ment, or of that so common an impression upon the minds of
* Deos, Strabones, paetulos, naevum hnbentes, silos, flaccos, frontone*,
capitones— Gods deformed, looking asquint, Hat-nosed, flap-eared, beetle-
browed, jolt-headed. De Xa(ura Deoryw, I. 1.
S28 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
men, but this only ; that it must have proceeded from one
common cause, namely, God himself; who having made man
so prime a part of his creation, hath stamped with his own
signature this nobler piece of his workmanship, and purposely
made and framed him to the acknowledgment and adoration of
his Maker.
But how shall they argue so, who, while they acknowledge
a God, deny man to be his creature, and will have him and
all things to be by chance, or without dependence on any
Maker ? What can an impression infer to this purpose, that
comes no one can tell whence or how ; but is plainly denied
to be from him,, whose being they would argue from it ?
The observation of so common an apprehension in the minds
of men, might (upon their supposition) beget much wonder,
but no knowledge ; and may perplex men much, how such a
thing should come to pass, without making them any thing the
wiser ; and would infer astonishment, sooner than a good con-
clusion, or than it would solidly prove any important truth.
And do they think they have salved the business, and given us
a satisfying account of this matter, by telling us, This impres-
sion is from nature, as they speak ? It were to be wished some
of them had told us, or could yet tell us, what they meant by
nature. Is it an}' intelligent principle, or was it guided by
any such ? If yea, whence came this impression, but from
God himself? For surely an intelligent Being, that could
have this universal influence upon the minds of all men, is
much more likely to be God than the imaginary entities they
talk of, that are bodies, and no bodies ; have blood, and no
blood ; members, and no members ; are somewhere, and no-
where ; or if they be any where, are confined to some certain
places remote enough from our world ; with the affairs where-
of, or any other, they cannot any way concern themselves,
without quite undoing and spoiling their felicity. If they say
No, and that nature, which puts this stamp upon the minds of
men, is an utterly unintelligent thing, nor was ever governed
by any thingwiser than itself- — strange ! that blind and undesign-
ing nature should, without being prompted, become thus igno-
yantlyoffjcious to these idle, voluptuary godlings ; and should so
effectually take course they might be known to the world, who
no way ever obliged if, nor were ever like to do ! But to re-
gress a little, fain I would know what is this thing they call na-
ture ? Is it any thing else than the course and inclination of
conspiring atoms, which singly are not pretended to bear any
s>uch impression ; but as they luckily club and hit together.
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 229
in the composition of a human soul, by the merest and strangest
chance that ever happened ? But would Ave ever regard what
they say whom we believe to speak by chance ? Were it to be
supposed that characters and words serving to make up some
proposition or other, were by some strange agitation of wind
and waves impressed and figured on the sand ; would we, if
we really believed the matter came to pass only by such an odd
casualty, think that proposition any whit the truer for being
there, or take this for a demonstration of its truth, anymore
than if we had seen it in a ballad ? Because men have casually
come to think so, therefore there are such beings, (to be called
gods,) between whom and them there never was or shall be any
intercourse or mutual concern. It follows as well, as that
because the staff stands in the corner, the morrow will be a
rainy day. The dictates of nature are indeed most regardable
things taken as expressions of his mind, or emanations from
him, who is the Author and God of nature : but abstracted
from him, they are and signify as much as a beam cut off from
the body of the sun ; or a person that pretends himself an am-
bassador, without credentials.
Indeed, (as is imported in the words noted from that grave.
Pagan (Plutarch) a little before,) the principles of these men
destroy quite nature itself, as well as every thing of relio-ion ;
and leave us the names and shew of them, but take away the
things themselves. In sum, though there be no such impres-
sion upon the minds of men as that which they talk of, yet
if there were, no such thing can be inferred from it, as
they would infer ; their principles taking away all con-
nexion between the argument, and what thoy would argue
by it.
2. We have also too much reason to add, That as the sup-
position of such a being, or sort of beings, can have no suf-
ficient ground ; so it is equally unconceivable that it can be
intended for any good end. Not that we think the last asser-
tion a sufficient sole proof of this ; for we easily acknowledge,
that it is possible enough men may harmlessly and with inno-
cent intentions attempt the building very weighty and import-
ant truths upon weak and insufficient foundations ; hoping they
have offered that as a support unto truth, which proves only a
useless cumber. Nor were it just to impute treachery, where
there is ground for the more charitable censure, that the mis-
adventure proceeded only from want of judgment and short-
ness of discourse. But it is neither needful nor seemly, that
the charity which can willingly wink in some cases, should
?50 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART T.
therefore be quite blind ; or that no difference should be made,
of well-meant mistakes, and mischief thinly hid and covered
over with specious pretences. And let it be soberly consider-
ed, what can the design be, after the cashiering of all solid
grounds for the proving of a Deity, at, length to acknowledge
it upon none at all ? As if their acknowledgment must owe
itself not to thHr reason, but their courtesy. And when they
have, done what they can to make the rest of men believe they
have no need to own a?iy God at all, and they can tell how all
that concerns the making and governing the world may well
enough Ix; dispatched without any, yet at last they will be
so generous as to be content there shall be one, however.
What, 1 say, Can the design of this be, that they who have
contended with all imaginable obstinacy against the most plain
and convincing evidences, that do even defy cavil ; have quite
fought themselves blind, and lost their eyes in the encounter ;
yo that i\\ey are ready to swear the sun is a clod of dirt, and
noon-day light is to them the very blackness of darkness ?
They cannot see a Deity encircling them with the brightest
beams, and shining upon them With the most conspicuous
glory through every thing that occurs, and all things that en-
compass them on every side. And yet when all is done, and
their thunder-struck eyes make them fancy they have put our
the sun : they have won tin 1 day, have cleared the held, and
are absolute victors ; they have vanquished the whole power
of their most dreaded enemy, the light thai reveals God in his
works — after all this, without any inducement at all, and hav-
ing triumphed over every thing that looked like an argument
to prove it, they vouchsafe to say however, of their own ac-
cord, There is a God. Surely if this have any design at all,
it must be a very bad one. And see whither it tends. They
have now a God of their own making ; and all the being he
hath, depends upon their grace and favour. They are not his
creatures, but he is (heir's : a precarious Deity, that shall be
as long, and what, and where, they please to have him. And
if he displease them, they can think him back into nothing.
Here seems the depth of the design. For see with what cau-
tions and limitations ihey admit him into being. There shall
be a God, provided he be not meddlesome, nor concern him-
self in their affairs to the crossing of any inclinations or hu-
mours which they are pleased shall command and govern their
lives; being conscious that if* they admit of any at all that
shall have to do with their concernments, he cannot but be
such as the ways they resolve on will displease. Their very
CKAP. VI. Til P." I. IYIXC TEMPI. H. 2"1
shame will not permit them lo call that God, which if he take
any cognizance at.all of their contSe will not dislike it. Ami
herein that they may be the more secure, they judge it the most
jprudent course, not to allow him any part or interest in the affairs
of the world at all.
Yet all this while they court him at a great rate, and all re-
ligion is taken away under pretence of great piety: worship
they believe he cares not for, because lie is full and needs
nothing. In this world he must not be, for it is a place
unworthy of him. He must have had no hand in framing,
nor can they think it fit he should have any in the government
of it. For it would be a great disturbance to him, and inter-
rupt his pleasures. The same thing as if certain licentious
courtiers, impatient of being governed, should address them-
selves to their prince in such a form of speech, that it is beneath
him to receive any homage from them, it would too much de-
base majesty ; that his dominions afford no place fit for his re-
sidence, and therefore it would be convenient for him to be-
take himself into some other country, that hath better air and
accommodation for delight ; that diadems and sceptres are
burthensome things, which therefore if he will quit to them,
he may wholly give up himself to ease and pleasure.
Yea and whatsoever would any way tend to evince his ne-
cessary existence, is with the same courtship laid aside ; (al-
though if he do not exist necessarily and of himself, he can-
not have any existence at all ; for as they do not allow him to
be the cause of any thing, so they assign nothing to be the
cause of him :) that is, with pretence there is no need it should
be demonstrated, because all men believe it without a reason,
nature having impressed this belief upon the minds of all ; or
(which is all one) they having agreed to believe it because
they believe. But though they have no reason to believe a
Deity, they have a very good one why they would seem to
do so, that they may expiate with the people their irreligiou
by a collusive pretending against atheism. And because they
think it less plausible plainly to deny there is a God, they
therefore grant one to please the vulgar, yet take cave it shall
be one as good as none, lest otherwise they should displease
themselves : and so their credit and their liberty are both cared
for together. But this covering is too short, and the art by
which they would fit it to their design, when it should cheat
others, deceives themselves. For it is most evident,
3. That the being with the pretended belief whereof they
would mock the world, is no God ; and that consequently.
232 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
while they would seem to acknowledge a Deity, they really
acknowledge none at all.. Our contest hath not, all this while,
been a strife about words, or concerning the name, but the
thing itself. And not whether there be such a thing in being
to which that name may, with whatsoever impropriety, be
given, but whether there be such a Being as whereto it pro-
perly belongs : supposing, and taking for granted as a matter
out of question, that (even in their own sense) if such a being
as we have described do exist, it is most properly God ; and
that they will not go about to call it by another name ; or that
they will not pretend this name agrees to any other thing so fitly
as to him. And because we have already proved this being dotli
exist, and that there can be but one such, it plainly follows
their's is in propriety of speech (even though he did exist) no
God ; and that much less should he appropriate the name, and
exclude the only true God. For since the high and dignify-
ing eulogies, which they are wont to bestow upon their feigned
deity, do plainly shew they would have it thought they esteem
him the most excellent of all existent Beings ; if we have
proved a really existent Being to be more excellent than he, it
is evident, even upon their own grounds, that this is God.
Hither the Deity must be deferred, and their's must yield, and
give out : inasmuch as we cannot suppose them so void of
common sense, as to say the less excellent being is God, and
the more excellent is no God. But if they should be so,
(whereas the controversy is not about the name,) we have our
main purpose, in having proved there is a Being actually ex-
istent, that hath all the real excellencies which they ascribe to
their deities, and infinitely more. And as concerning the
name, who made them dictators to all the world, and the sole
judges of the propriety of words ; or with what right or pre-
tence will they assume so mucli to themselves, so as, against
the rest of the world, to name that God, from which they cut
off' the principal perfections wont to be signified by that name ?
And if we speak of such perfections as tend to infer and
establish religion and providence, who, but themselves, did
ever call that God in the eminent sense, that they supposed
could not hear prayers, and thereupon dispense favours, relieve
the afflicted, supply the indigent, and receive suitable ac-
knowledgments ? They indeed (saith a famed writer* of Ro-
man history) that exercise themselves in the atheistical sorts
* »<toi [aw *» T«r «9e*j ae-aSfl-^ QtXoffotplxs, Sec. D. Halicarnass. Ant.
Rom. 1. 2.
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. Z3o
of philosophy, (if we mag call that 'philosophy,) as they arc
wont to jeer at all appearances of the gods, whether among
the Greeks or the Barbarians, will make themselves matter
of laughter of our histories, not thinking that any God takes
care of any man. — Let the story be there tells, shift for itself,
in the mean time it appears they escaped not the infamy of
atheists, who (whatever deities they might imagine besides)
did deny God's presence, and regard to men. Which sort
of persons he elsewhere often animadverts upon. But do we
need to insist, that all the rest of the world acknowledged no
gods, whom they did not also worship ? What meant their
temples and altars, their prayers and sacrifices ? Or did they
take him for God, whom they believed to take no care of them,
or from whom they expected no advantage ? Even the barba-
rous Scythians themselves understood it most inseparably to
belong to a Deity, to be beneficent ; when they upbraid ingly
tell Alexander, * That if he were a God, (as they it seems had
heard he vogued himself,) he should bestow benefits upon men,
and not take from them what was their own.
And by the way, it is observable how contradictious and
repugnant the Epicurean sentiments are in this, even to them-
selves : that speaking of friendship, t (of which they say many
generous and brave things,) they gallantly profess (as Plutarch
testifies of them) that it is a more pleasant thing to benefit
others than to receive benefits one's self. They yet, while
they seem so greatly concerned % that their gods be every way
most perfectly happy, deny to them this highest and most,
excellent part of felicity. That a virtuous man may a great
deal more benefit the world than they, and consequently have
more pure and lively relishes of a genuine and refined pleasure.
Upon the whole, it is manifest they so maim the notion of
God, as to make it quite another thing. And if they think to
wipe off any thing of the foul and odious blot wherewith their
avowed irreligion hath stained their name and memory, by
the acknowledgment of such a God ; they effect the like thing
by it, and gain as much to the reputation of their piety as he
should of his loyalty, who being accused of treason against
his prince, shall think to vindicate himself by professing so-
lemn! v to own the king; provided you only mean by it the
* See their ambassador's oration, in Q. Curtius.
' t Lib. non posse suaviter vivi, &c.
+ Vid. &r lib. maxime cutn prineip. vim Phil. &c f
VOL. I. 2 H
234 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART T,
king of clubs, or any such painted one the pack affords. But
here it may be demanded, Is every misapprehension of God
to be understood as a denial of his being ? If so, whom can
we undertake to assoil of atheism ? Or who can certainly ac-
quit himself? For how impossible is it to be sure we have no
untrue conception of a Being so infinitely, by our own con-
fession, above all our thoughts ? Or how is it to be avoided,
in somewhat or other, to think amiss of so unknown and
incomprehensibly excellent a Being, either by detracting
somewhat that belongs to it, or attributing somewhat that be-
belongs not ? And since many, wc are sure, have thought and
spoken unworthily of God, besides Epicureans, are all these to
go into the account of atheists ? Or whereas it is commonly wont
to be said, Whatsoever is in God, is God : how can they who
deny any thing of him, which is really in him, be excused of
denying his whole being ? Or where will we fix the bounds
of our censure ?
Many things should be said (if we will speak at all) to so
manifold an inquiry : but it belongs not to the design of this
discourse to examine and discuss all men's sentiments of God
that have been exposed to the view of the world, or arbitrate
among the dissenting parties ; much less to explain or abet
every school-maxim that hath reference to this theme ; the
authors or lovers whereof will be sufficiently prompted by their
own genius to do at least as much as can be requisite herein -
But whatever the real sameness is supposed to be, of the things
attributed to God, it is acknowledged we cannot but conceive
of them as divers ; and so that our conception of any one is
not adequate to the entire object, which is confessed incom-
prehensible. Yet any one attribute gives a true notion of the
object, so far as it reaches, though not a full. As I may be
said truly to see a man, when I only see his face, and view
not every part and limb; or to know him, while yet I have
not had opportunity to discern every quality in his temper, and
what his dispositions and inclinations, in all respects, are.
Moreover, it is one thing to deny any divine perfection, another,
only not to know it.
And such mere nescience is so far from being guilty of the
horrid crime of atheism, that it is not so much as culpable,,
further than as it is obstinately persisted in, against sufficient
evidence : for we are not obliged to know every thing, but
what is io us knowable, and what we are concerned to know.
Again, (and which is most considerable to our purpose,) we are
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 235
not concerned to know what God is in himself, otherwise than
as we may thereby know Avhat he is in relation to us, namely,
as he is the Author of our beings, the Governor of our lives
and actions, and thereupon the Object of our religion : for a
religious respect unto him is the very end of that knowledge.
Now, if any other than that sort of persons Ave oppose have
taken up apprehensions of him not so suitable to that end, it
xvere to be wished they saw it, and would unth ink all those
thoughts.. But surely, they who most professedly contend
against the very notions themselves which directly influence all
our practice toward God, so considered, and would suggest such
as are wholly inconsistent therewith ; who oppose the know-
ledge of God to the end of that knowledge, and do not mere-
ly mistake the way to that end while they are aiming at it, but
most avowedly resist and disclaim the end itself; are to be
distinguished from them who professedly intend that same
end, only see not wherein their misapprehensions arc preju-
dicial and repugnant to it ; otherwise are ready to reject them.
And the former are therefore most justly to be singled out, and
designed the objects of our direct opposition. Nor are they
so fitly to be opposed under any other notion, as that of
atheists. For since our knowledge of God ought chiefly to
respect him in that fore-mentioned relative consideration, and
the inquity, What is God ? signifies, as it concerns us, What
is the object of religion ? they denying any such thing, deny
there is a God. Nor do they deny him in that relative con-
sideration only ; but (as every relation is founded in some-
what that is absolute) the very reason of their denying him so,
is, that they deny in him those absolute and positive perfec-
tions that render him such ; as certain of those do, that have
been proved to belong to him. Which is that we have next to
consider, namely,
4. That it may evidently be deduced from what hath been
said, tending to prove those things of God which are included
in the notion of him, and from that notion itself, that he is such
as can converse with men. That is, having proved — That there
is an eternal, self-subsisting, independent, necessary Being,
of so great activity, life, power, wisdom, and goodness, as
to have been the Maker of this world : and by this medium —
That we see this world is in being, which otherwise could
never have been, much less such as we see it is : it therefore
follows, that this great Creator can have influence upon the
creatures he hath made, in a way suitable to their natures. It
follows, I say, from the same medium, (the present visible
236 TIJE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
existence of this world, which could not otherwise be now in
being,) that he can thus have influence upon his creatures :
for it is hence manifest that he hath ; they depend on him,
and are sustained by him ; nor could more subsist by them-
selves, than they could make themselves, or of themselves
have sprung out of nothing. And if it were possible they could,
being raised up into being, continue in being of themselves ;
yet since our present question is not concerning what they
need, but what God can do ; and our adversaries in the pre-
sent cause do not (as hath been noted) upon any other pretence
deny that he doth concern himself in the affairs of the universe,
but that he cannot ; (that is, that it consists not with his fe-
licity, and he cannot be happy ;) is it not plain that he can
with the same facility continue the influence which he at first
gave forth, and with as little prejudice to his felicity ? For
if it be necessary to him to be happy, or impossible not to be
so, he must be ever so. PI is happiness was not capable of
being discontinued, so long as while he made the world, settled
the several orders and kinds, and formed the first individuals
of every kind of creatures. Therefore having done this, and
without diminution to his happiness, was it a more toilsome
and less tolerable labour to keep things as they were, than to
make them so ? If it were, (which no man that understands
common sense would say,) surely that blind thing which they
more blindly call nature, (not understanding or being able to
tell what they mean by it,) and would have to be the only cause
of all things, acting at first to the uttermost, and having no
way to recruit its vigour and reinforce itself, its labour and
business being so much increased, had jaded and grown
weary ; had given out, and patiently suffered all things to
dissolve and relapse into the old chaos long ago. But if the
labour were not greater, to continue things in the state wherein
they were made, than to make them ; surely a wise, intelligent
Deity, which we have proved made them, could as well sustain
them, being made, as their brutal (and as unintelligible, as un-
intelligent) nature do both.
So much then of intercourse God could have with his crea-
tures, as his continual communication of his influence to be
received by them amounts to. And then man not being ex-
cluded their number, must share in this possible privilege ac-
cording to the capacity of his nature. And inasmuch as we
have also proved more particularly concerning man, that he
immediately owes the peculiar excellencies of his intelligent na r
Jure, as it is such, to God only ; it is apparently consequent,
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 257
that having formed this his more excellent creature, according
to his own more express likeness, stamped it with the glorious
characters of his living image, given it a nature suitable to his
own, and thereby made it capable of rational and intelligent
converse with him ; he hath it ever in his power to maintain a
continual converse with this creature, by agreeable commu-
nications ; by letting in upon it the vital beams and influences
of his own light and love, and receiving back the return of
its grateful acknowledgments and praises. Wherein it is
manifest he should do no greater thing than he hath done : for
who sees not, that it is a matter of no greater difficulty to con-
verse with, than to make a reasonable creature ? Or who
would not be ashamed to deny, that he who hath been the
only Author of the soul of man, and of the excellent powers
and faculties belonging to it, can more easily sustain what he
hath made, and converse with that his creature, suitably to
the way wherein he hath made it capable of his converse ?
"Whereto the consideration being added of his gracious nature,
(manifested in this creation itself,) it is further evident, that
he is (as things are now ordered, whereof more hereafter) not
only able, but apt and ready to converse with men, in such a
way as shall tend to the improving of their being unto that
blessedness whereof he hath made them naturally capable ; if
their own voluntary alienation and aversion to him (yet not
overcome) do not obstruct the way of that intercourse. And
even this were sufficient to give foundation to a temple, and
both afford encouragement and infer an obligation to religion ;
although no other perfection had been, or could be, demon-
strated of the Divine Being, than what is immediately to be
collected from his works, and the things whereof he hath been
the sole and most arbitrary Author. For what if no more were
possible to be proved, have we not, even by thus much, a re-
presentation of an object sufficiently worthy of our homage and
adoration ? He that could make and sustain such a world as
this, how inexpressibly doth he surpass in greatness the most
excellent of all mortal creatures ! to some or other of whom,
upon some (merely accidental) dignifying circumstances, we
justly esteem ourselves to owe a dutiful observance and sub-
jection.
If he did not comprehend within his own Being simply alt
perfection ; if there were many gods and worlds besides, and
he only the Creator and absolute Lord of our vortex ; were not
lhat enough to entitle him to all the obedience and service we
238 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
could give him, and (o enable him sufficiently to reward it,
and render his presence and cherishing' influences (which he
could every where diffuse within this circle, and limited por-
tion of the universe) even infinitely covetable and desirable to
us ? Yea, if he were the only entire Author of our own par-
ticular being 1 , how much more is that, than the partial, subor-
dinate interest of a human parent, to whom (as even an Epi-
curean would confess) nature itself urges and exacts a duty,
the refusal whereof even barbarian ingenuity would abhor, yea
and brutal instinct condemn ? How much greater and more
absolute is the right which the parentage of our whole being
challenges ? If every man were created by a several God,
whose creative power were confined to only one such creature,
and each one were the solitary product and the charge of an
appropriate Deity, whose dominion the state of things would
allow to be extended so far only, and no further ; were there
therefore no place left for religion, or no tie unto love, re-
verence, obedience, and adoration, because the Author of my
being comprehended not in himself all perfection, when as
yet lie comprehended so much as to be the sole cause of all
that is in me ; and his power over me, and his goodness to
me, are hereby supposed the same which the only one God
truly hath and exerciseth towards all ? If all that I am and
have be for him, I cannot surely owe to him less than all.
Such as have cither had, or supposed themselves to have,
their particular tutelary genii, (of whom there will be more
occasion to take notice hereafter,) though they reckoned them
but a sort of deputed or vicarious deities, underling gods,
whom they never accounted the causes of their being; yet
how have they coveted and gloried to open their breasts to be-
come their temples, and entertain the converse of those sup-
posed divine inhabitants ? If they had taken one of these to
be their alone creator, how much greater had their veneration
and their homage been ? This, it may be hoped, will be thought
sufficiently proved in this discourse, (at least to have been so by
some or other,) that we are not of ourselves ; and that our ex-
traction is to be fetched higher than from matter, or from only
human progenitors. Nothing that is terrene and mortal could
be the author of such powers as we find in ourselves; we are
most certainly the offspring of some or other Deity. And he
that made us, knows us thoroughly, can apply himself in-
wardly to us, receive our addresses and applications, our ae*
knowledgments and adoration; whercunto we should have,
2
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 239
even upon these terms, great and manifest obligation, although
nothing more of the excellency and perfection of our Creator
were certainly known to us.
III. But it hath been further shewn, That the necessary
Being from whence we sprang, is also an absolutely and in-
finitely perfect Being : — That necessary Being cannot be less
perfect, than to include the entire and inexhaustible fuin-ss of
all being and perfection : — That therefore the God to whom
this notion belongs, must consequently be every way sufficient
to all, and be himself but one ; the only Source and Fountain of
all life and being ; the common Basis and Support of the uni-
verse ; the absolute Lord of this great creation, and the cen-
tral Object of the common concurrent trust, fear, love, and
other worship of his intelligent and reasonable creatures. And
therefore there remains no greater or other difficulty, in ap-
prehending how he can, without disturbance to himself or in-
terruption of his own felicity, intend all the concernments of
his creatures, apply himself to them according to their several
exigencies, satisfy their desires and cravings, inspect and
govern their actions and affairs ; than wc have to apprehend a
Being absolutely and every way perfect. Whereof if we can-
not have a distinct apprehension ail at once, that is, though
we cannot comprehend every particular perfection of God in
the same thought, (as our eye cannot behold, at one view,
every part of an over-large object, unto which, however, pari'
by part, it may be successively applied,) we can yet in the
general apprehend him absolutely perfect ; or such to whom,,
we are sure, no perfection is wanting : and can successively
contemplate this or that, as we are occasionally led to con-
sider them : and can answer to ourselves difficulties that occur
to us, with this easy, sure, and ever ready solution ; That he
can do all things ; that nothing is <oo hard for him ; that he
is full, all-sufficient, and every way perfect. Whereof we
are the more confirmed, that we find we cannot, by the utmost
range of our most enlarged thoughts, ever reach any bound or
end of that perfection, which yet Ave must conclude is neces-
sarily to be attributed to an absolutely perfect Being. And this
we have reason to take for a very sufficient answer to any doubt
that can arise, concerning the possibility of his converse wilh
us ; unless we will be so unreasonable as to pretend, that what
is brought for solution hath greater difficulty in it than the
doubt; or that because we cannot apprehend at once infinite
perfection, therefore it cannot be ; which were as much as tc*
&ay, that it cannot be because it is infinite ; for it were not in-
249 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I*
finite, if we could distinctly apprehend it. And so were to
make it a reason against itself, which is most injuriously and
with no pretence attempted, except we could shew an incon-
sistency in the terms ; which it is plain we can never do, and
should most idly attempt. And it, were to make our present
apprehension the measure of all reality, against our experience ;
which (if our indulgence to that self-magnifying conceit do
not suspend our farther inquiries and researches) would daily
bring to our notice things we had no apprehension of before.
It were (instead of that just and laudable ambition of becoming
ourselves like God, in his imitable perfections) to make him
like ourselves ; the true model of the Epicurean deity.
Nor can any thing be more easy, than that v, herein we pre-
tend so great a difficulty ; that is, to apprehend somewhat
may be more perfect than we can apprehend. What else but
proud ignorance can hinder us from seeing, that the more we
know, the more there is that we know not ? How often are
we out-done by creatures of our own order in the creation !
How many men are there whom we are daily constrained to
admire, as unspeakably excelling us, and whom we cannot
but acknowledge to be far more knowing, discerning, appre-
hensive of things, of more composed minds, of more penetrat-
ing judgments, of more quick and nimble wits, easily turning
themselves to a great variety of objects and affairs without
distraction and confusion, of more equal and dispassionate
tempers, less liable to commotion and disturbance than our-
selves.
How absurd and senseless a pretence is it against the thing
itself, that we cannot apprehend an infinite perfection in one
common fountain of all perfection ; or because we cannot go
through a multitude of businesses without distraction, that
therefore he that made us and all things cannot. If we would
make ourselves the measure, it is likely we should confess we
were out-stripped, when we are told that Julius Caesar could
dictate letters, when he was intent upon the greatest affairs, to
four (and if he had nothing else to divert him, to seven) se-
cretaries at once ; that Cyrus * could call by name all the
* Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. 7. c. 25. Id. 1. 7. c Ql. vid. & Xenopb. de Cyr.
Pted. 1. 5. Who, though he expressly says not lie knew all the soldiers
names, but seems rather to mean it of their officers, (for, saith he, he
reckoned it an absurd thing a mechanic should know the names of all his
tools, &c. and a general not know the names of his captains under him,
&c.) yet he saith the soldiers wondered wwr ovo//.a£«y InreM.sro — that he
sJwuld be able to call than by their names when he gavt the word of command.
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 241
soldiers in his numerous army : with divers other strange in-
stances of like nature. And since the perfections of some so
far exceed the measure of the most. Why is it then uncon-
ceivable that divine perfection should so far surpass all, as
that God may intend the affairs of the world, according to
the several exigencies of his creatures, without any ungrateful
diversion to himself, or diminution to his felicity ? And since
they who partake of some, and but a small portion of perfec-
tion only, can be concerned in many affairs, with little trouble ;
why cannot he that comprehends all perfection, be concerned
in all, without any ? For though we have, in what hath been
last said, endeavoured to represent it as not so unapprehen-
sible as is pretended, that it may be also ; we take it, in the
meantime, as formerly sufficiently proved, that so it is ; that
God is a being absolutely perfect, or that includes eminently
all perfection in himself.
III. Which general perfection of his being, as it modifies
all his attributes, so we shall particularly take notice that it
doth so as to those that have a more direct influence upon, and
tend more fully to evince his conversableness with men. As,
First, his wisdom and knowledge (for we need not to be so
curious as at present to distinguish them) must be omniscient.
About which, if any place were left for rational doubt, it
would be obvious to them to allege it who are of slower incli-
nations towards religion ; and object, (against all applications
to, or expectations from him,) that if we be not sure he
knows simply all things, so as wisely to consider them and
resolve fitly about them, it will be no little difficulty to deter-
mine which he doth, and which not ; or to be at a certainty,
that this or that concernment of theirs, about which they might
address themselves to him, be not among the unknown things.
At least, we shall the less need to be curious in distinguishing,
or to consider what things may be supposed rather than other,
to be without the compass of his knowledge ; if it appear that
it universally encompasses all things, or that nothing can be
without its reach. And because we suppose it already out of
doubt, that the true notion of God imports a Being absolutely
or every way perfect ; nothing else can be doubted in this
matter, but whether the knowledge of all things be a per-
fection.
The greatest difficulty that hath troubled some in this mat-
ter, hath been, How it is possible there should be any certain
knowledge of events yet to come, that depend upon a free and
self-determining cause. But methinks we should not make a
VOL. I. 2 I
242 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
difficulty to acknowledge, that to know these tilings, imports
greater perfection than not to know them ; and then it would
be very unreasonable, because we cannot shew how this or
that thing was performed which manifestly is done, therefore
to deny that it is done at all. It would be so highly unrea-
sonable to conclude against any act of God, from our ignorance
of the manner of it, that we should reckon it very absurd to
conclude so, concerning any act of our own, or our ability
thereto^ What if it were hitherto an unknown thing, and im-
possible to be determined, how the act of vision is performed
by us ; were it a wise conclusion, that therefore we neither do
nor can see ? Ifow much more rash and presuming a confi-
dence were it to reason thus concerning the Divine acts and
perfections ! Would we not in any such case be determined
rather by that which is more evident, than by what is more
obscure ? As in the assigned instance, we should have but
these two propositions to compare — That I do (or have sueh a
perfection belonging to me that I can) see, and, — That whatso-
ever act I do or can do, I am able to understand the course
and method of nature's operations therein — and thereupon to
judge which of these two is more evident. Wherein it may
be supposed there is no man in his wits, to whom the determi-
nation would not be easy. Accordingly, in the present case we
ha ve only these two assert ions that can be in competition, in point
of evidence, between which we are to make a comparison, and
a consequent judgment ; namely — Whatsoever perfection be-
longs to a Being absolutely perfect, enabling it to do this or
that, the wit of man can comprehend the distinct way and
manner of doing it ; and, — It imports greater perfection to know
all things, than to be ignorant of some — and here surely whoso-
ever shall think the determination difficult, accounts the wit of
man so exceeding great, that he discovers his own to be very
little. For what can the pretence of evidence be in the former
assertion ? Was it necessary that he, in whose choice it was
whether we should ever know any thing or no, should make
us capable of knowing everything belonging to his own being?
Or will we adventure to be so assuming, as while we deny it to
God that he knows all things, to attribute to ourselves that we
do ? But if we will think it not altogether unworthy of us to
be ignorant of something, what is there of which we may with
more probability, or with less disparagement be thought so,
than the manner of God's knowing things ? And what place
is there for complaint of inevidence in the latter ? Is not. that
knowledge more perfect, which so fully already comprehends
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 213
all things, as upon that account to admit of no increase ; than
that which shall be every day growing, and have a continual
succession of new objects emerging and coming into view be-
fore altogether unknown ? And will not that be the case, if
we suppose future contingencies to lie concealed from the pe-
netrating eye of God ? For whatsoever is future, will some
time be present, and then we will allow such contingencies to
be known to him. That is, that God may know them, when
we ourselves can ; and that nothing of that kind is known to
him, which is not knowable some way or oilier to ourselves,
at least successively, and one thing after another. We will
perhaps allow that prerogative to God, in point of this know-
ledge, that he can know these things now fallen out, all at
once ; we, but by degrees ; while yet there is not any one that
is absolutely unknowable to us. But why .should it be thought
unreasonable, to attribute an excellency to the knowledge of
God above ours ; as well in respect of the manner of knowing,
as the multitude of objects at once known ? We will readily
confess, in some creatures, an excellency of their visive fa-
culty above our own ; that they can see tilings in that dark-
ness, wherein they are to us invisible. And will we not allow
that to the eye of God, which is as a flame of fire, to be able
to penetrate into the abstrusest darkness of futurity, though we
know not the way how it is done ; when yet we know that
whatsoever belongs to the most perfect being, must belong to
his ? And that knowledge of all things imports more per-
fection, than if it were lessened by the ignorance of any
thing.
Some, who have thought the certain foreknowledge of fu-
ture contingencies not attributable to God, have reckoned the
matter sufficiently excused by this, That it no more detracts
from the divine omniscience, to state without the object of it
things not possible, or that imply a contradiction (as they sup-
pose these do) to be known ; than it doth from his omnipotency,
that it cannot do what is impossible, or that implies a contra-
diction to be done. But against this there seems to lie this
reasonable exception, that the two cases appear not sufficiently
alike ; inasmuch as the supposition of the former will be found
not to leave the blessed God equally entitled to omnisciency,
as the latter to omnipotency. For all things should not be
alike the object of both ; and why should not that be under-
stood to signify the knowledge of simply all things, as well as
this the power of doing simply all things ? Or why should all
things, included in these two words, signify so very diversely;
244 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
that is, there properly all things, here some things only ? And
why must we so difference the object of omnisciency and omni-
potency, as to make that so much narrower than this ? And
then how is it all things, when so great a number of tilings will
be left excluded ? Whereas from the object of omnipotency
(that we may prevent what would be replyed) there will be no
exclusion of any thing: not of the things which are actually
already made ; for they are still momently reproduced by the
same power : not of the actions and effects of free causes yet
future ; for, when they become actual, God dotli certainly
perform the part of the first cause, (even by common consent,)
in order to their becoming so; which is certainly doing some-
what, though all be not agreed what that part is. Therefore
they are, in the mean time, to be esteemed within the object
of omnipotency, or to be of the things which God can do ;
namely, as the first cause virtually including the power of the
second. But more strictly ; all impossibility is either natural
arid absolute, or moral and conditional. What is absolutely
or naturally impossible, or repugnant in itself, is not properly
anything. Whatsoever simple being, not yet existent, we
can form any conception of, is producible, and so within the
compass of omnipotency ; for there is no repugnancy in sim-
plicity. That wherein therefore we place natural impossibili-
ty, is the inconsistency of being this thing, whose notion is
such ; and another, wholly and entirely, whose notion is di-
verse, at the same time, that which (more barbarously than
insignificantly) hath been wont to be called incompossibility.
But surely all things are properly enough said to be naturally
possible to God, while all simple beings are producible by
him, of which any notion can be formed ; yea and compound-
ed, so as by their composition to result into a third thing. So
that it is not an exception, to say that it is naturally impossible
this thing should be another thing, and yet be wholly itself
still at once ; that it should be and not be, or be without itself.
There is not within the compass of actual or conceivable be-
ing, such a thing. Nor is it reasonable to except such actions
as are naturally possible to other agents, but not to him ; as to
walk, for instance, or the like. Inasmuch as, though the ex-
cellency of his nature permits not they should be done by him,
yet since their power of doing them proceeds wholly from him,
he hath it virtually and eminently in himself : as was formerly
said of the infiniteness of his being. And for moral impossi-
bility, as to lie, to do an unjust act ; that God never does
them, proceeds not from want of power, but an eternal aver-
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 245
sion of will. It cannot be said he is not able to do such a tiling,
if he would ; but so is his will qualified and conditioned, by
its own unchangeable rectitude, that he most certainly never
will ; or such things as are in themselves evil are never done
by him, not through the defect of natural power, but from
the permanent stability and fulness of all moral perfection. And
it is not without the compass of absolute omni potency to do
what is but conditionally impossible, that absence of which
restrictive condition would rather bespeak impotency and im-
perfection, than omnipotency. Therefore the object of omni-
potence is simply all things ; why not of omniscience as well ?
It may be said, all things, as it signifies the object of om-
niscience, is only restrained by the act or faculty, signified
therewith in the same word, so as to denote the formal object
of that faculty or act, namely, all knowable things. But
surely that act must suppose some agent, whereto that know-
able hath reference. Knowable ! To whom ? To others or to
God himself? If we say the former, it is indeed a great
honour we put upon God, to say he can know as much as
others ; if the latter, we speak absurdly, and only say he can
know all that he can know. It were fairer to deny omniscience
than so interpret it. But if it be denied, what shall the pre-
tence be ? Why, that it implies a contradiction future con-
tingents should be certainly known ; for they are uncertain,
and nothing can be otherwise truly known than as it is. *
And it must be acknowledged, that to whom any thing is
uncertain, it is a contradiction that to him it should be certain-
ly known. But that such things arc uncertain to God, needs
other proof than I have met with, in what follows in that cited
author, or elsewhere : all which will amount to no more than
this, that such tilings as we cannot tell how God knows them,
must needs be unknown to him. But since we are sure many
such things have been certainly foretold by God, (and of them
such as we may be also sure he never intended to effect,) we
have reason enough to be confident that such things are not
* Qualis res est talis est rei cognitio. Si itaque res sit incerta (puta
incertum est hoc ne sit futurum, an non) non datur ulla eerta ejus noti-
tia. Quomodo enim fieri potest ut certo sciatur ad fore, quod certo fu-
turum non est, &c. — As a thing is, such is the knowledge of that thing;
if a thing be uncertain, (uncertain whether it will come to pass or not,)
there is no certain knowledge of that thing : for how can it be certainly
known that a thing will be, which, whether it will be or not, is uncer-
tain ? Strangius de vuluutate c\ Aclionibus Dei, &(c. L S. c. 6. as he there
objects to himself.
246 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
unknowable to him. And for the manner of his knowing them,
it is better to profess ignorance about it, than attempt the ex-
plication thereof, either unintelligibly, as some have to no pur-
pose, or dangerously and impiously, as others have adventured
to do to very bad purpose. And it well becomes us to sup-
pose an infinite understanding may have ways of knowing
things which we know nothing of. To my apprehension, that last-
mentioned author doth with ill success attempt an explication
of God's manner of knowing this sort of things, by tbe far less
intelligible notion of the indivisibility of eternity, compre-
hending (as he says) all the parts of time, not successively,
but together. And though he truly says that the Scotists' way
of expressing how future contingents are present to God, that
is, according to their objective and intentional being only, af-
fords us no account why God knows them, (for which cause
he rejects it, and follows that of the Thomists, who will have
them to be present according to their real and actual existence,
I should yet prefer the deficiency of the former way, before
the contradict ionsness and repugnancy of the latter ; and con-
ceive these -words in the Divine Dialogues, (Dr. More,) as good
an explication of the manner of his knowledge, as the case
can admit, (which yet is but the Scotists' sense,) " That the
whole evolution of times and ages is so collectedly and pre-
sentificly represented to God at once, as if all things and ac-
tions whichever were, are, or shall be, were at this very in-
stant, and so always really present and existent before him."
Which is no wonder, the animadversion and intellectual com-
prehension of God being absolutely infinite, according to the
truth of his idea. I do therefore think tliat a sober resolution
in this matter, (of Bathymus, in the same Dialogues,) " That it
seems more safe to allow this privilege to the infinite under-
standing of God, than to venture at all to circumscribe his
omniscience : for though it may safely be said that he knows
not any thing that really implies a contradiction to be known,
yet we are not assured but that may seem a contradiction to us,
that is not so really in itself." And when we have only human
wit to content with in the case, reverence of this or that man,
Chough both in great vogue in that kind, needs not restrain us
from distinguishing between a mere seeming latent contradic-
tion, and a fiat, downright, open one. Only as to that instance
of the commcnsurableness of the diagonal line of a quadrate to
one of the sides ; whereas though there are great difficulties on
both sides, namely, that these are commensurable, and that
they are not ; yet any man's judgment would rather incline to
4
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE.
the latter, as the easier part : I should therefore also think it
more safe to make choice of that, as the parallel of the present
difficulty. Upon the "whole, we may conclude that the know-
ledge of God is every way perfect ; and being so, extends to
all our concernments : and that nothing" remains, upon that
account, to make us decline applying ourselves to religious
converses with him, or to deny him the honour and entertain-
ment of a temple : for which we shall yet see further cause,
when we consider,
Secondly, That his power is also omnipotent. Which
(though the discourse of it have been occasionally somewhat
mingled with that of the last) might be directly spoken of for
the fuller eviction of that his conversablencss with men, which
religion and a temple do suppose. Nor indeed is it enough,
that he knows our concernments, except he can also provide
effectually about them, and dispose of them to our advantage.
And we cannot doubt but he, who could create us and such a
world as this, can do so, even though he were supposed not
omnipotent. But even that itself seems a very unreasonable
supposition, that less than iniinite power should suffice to the
creation of any thing. For however liable it may be to con-
troversy, what a second cause might do herein, being assisted
by the infinite power of the first ; it seems altogether unimagin-
able to x us, how, though the power of all men were met in one,
(which we can easily suppose to be a very vast power.) it
could, alone, be sufficient to make the minutest atom arise into
being out of nothing. And that all the matter of the universe
hath been so produced, namely, out of nothing, it will be no
great presumption to suppose already fully proved ; in that
though any such thing as necessary matter were admitted, yet
its essential unalterableness -would render it impossible it should
be the matter of the universe. Therefore when we cannot de-
vise what finite power can ever suffice (suppose we it ever so
much increased, but still finite) to the doing of that which we
are sure is done, what is left us to suppose, but that the pow r cr
which did it is simply infinite : much more when we consider,
not only that something is actually produced out of nothing,
but do also seriously contemplate the nature of the production !
Which carries so much of amazing wonder in it, every where,
that even the least and most minute things might serve for suf-
ficient instances of the unlimited greatness of that power which
made them ; as would be seen, if we did industriously set our-
selves to compare the effects of divine power with those of hu-
man art and skill, As is the ingenious and pious observation
248 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I*
of the most worthy Mr. Hook, (in his Microgfaphia,) who upon
his viewing with his microscope the point of a small and very
sharp needle, (than which we cannot conceive a smaller thing 1
laboured by the hand of man,) fakes notice of sundry sorts of
natural things, "that have points many thousand times sharper:
those of Ihe hairs of insects, &c. that appearing broad, irre-
gular, and uneven, having marks upon it, of the rudeness and
bungling of art. So unaccurafe (saith he) it is in all its pro-
ductions, even in those that seem most neat, that if examined
truly with an organ more acute than that by which they were
made, the more we see of their shape the less appearance will
there lie of their beauty. Whereas in the works of nature the
deepest discoveries shew us the greatest excellencies : an evi-
dent argument that he that was the Author of these things,
w as no other than omnipotent, being able to include as great a
variety of parts, in the yet smallest discernable point, as in
the vaster bodies, (which comparatively are called also points,)
such as the earth, sun, or planets." And I may add, when
those appear but points, in comparison of his so much vaster
work, how plainly doth that, also argue to us the same thing ?
And let us strictly consider the matter. Omnipotency, as hath
been said, imports a power of doing all things possible to be
done, or indeed, simply all things ; unto which passive power,
an active one must necessarily correspond. That is, there is
nothing in itself possible to be done, but it is also possible to
some one or other to do if. If we should therefore suppose
God not omnipotent, it would follow some one or other were
able to do more than God. For though possibility do import
a non-repugnancy in the thing to be done ; yet it also connotes
an ability in some agent to do if. Wherefore there is nothing
possible which some agent cannot do. And if so, that agent
must either be God, or some other. To say it is God. is what
we intend. That is, there is nothing possible which God can-
not do ; or he can do all things. But to say it is some other,
and not God, were to open the door to the above-mentioned
horrid consequence ; which no one that acknowledges a God
(and we are not now discoursing with them who simply deny
his being) would not both blush and tremble to avow.
Some indeed have so over-done the business here as to deny
any intrinsical possibility of any thing, and say that things
are only said to be possible, because God can do them ; which
is the same thing as thus to explain God's omnipotency ; that
is, that he can do all things which he can do : and makes a
chimccra no more impossible in itself to be produced, than a
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 249
not yet existent man. And the reason of the denial is, that
what is only possible is nothing, and therefore can have no-
thins- intrinsical to it ; s if it were not sufficient to the in-
trinsical possibility of a thing;, that its idea have no repugnancy
in it. Yet entire and full possibility connotes a reference to
the productive power of an agent ; so that it is equally absurd
to say that things are only possible, because there is no repug-
nancy in their ideas, as it is to say they are only possible, be-
cause some agent can do them ; inasmuch as the entire possi-
bility of their existence imports both that there is no repug-
nancy in their ideas, which if there be, they are every way
nothing, (as hath been said before,) and also that there is a
sufficient power to produce them. Therefore, whereas we
might believe him sufficient every way for us, though we did
not believe him simply omnipotent ; how much more fully are
we assured, when we consider that he is ? Whereof also no
place of doubt can remain, this being a most unquestionable
perfection, necessarily included in the notion of an absolutely
perfect Being. But here we need not further insist, having
no peculiar adversary (in this matter singly) to contend with,
as indeed he would have had a hard province, who should have
undertaken to contend against omnipotency. And now join
herewith again,
Thirdly, The boundlessness of his goodness, which upon
the same ground of his absolute perfection, must be infinite
also, and which it is of equal concernment to us to consider,
that we may understand he not only can effectually provide
about our concernments, but is most graciously inclined so to
do. And then, Avhat rational inducement is wanting to re-
ligion, and the dedication of a temple ; if we consider the joint
encouragement that arises from so unlimited power and good-
ness ? Or what man would not become entirely devoted to
him, who, by the one of these, we are assured, Awa^h* ^ vdIvtk
fivXoptytj) Se t» «§<$•«. Phil. Jud. de Abr. can do all things,
and by the other, will do what is best. Nor therefore is there
any thing immediately needful to our present purpose, the
eviction of God's co?iversableness with men, more than hath
been already said. That is, there is nothing else to be thought
on, that hath any nearer influence thereon ; the things that
can be supposed to have such influence, being none else than
his power, knowledge, and goodness, which have been par-
ticularly evinced from the creation of the world, both to have
been in some former subject, and to have all originally met in
a necessary being, that alone could be the Creator of it. Which
vol. i. 2k
250 THE LITIVG TEMPLE. PART T ff
necessary Being-, as it is sucb, appearing also to be infinite y
and absolutely perfect ; the influence of these cannot but the
more abundantly appear to be such as can and may most
sufficiently and fully correspond, both in general to the several
exigencies of all creatures, and more especially to all the real
necessities and reasonable desires of man : so that our main
purpose seems already gained. Yet because it may be grate-
ful when we are persuaded that things are so, to fortify (as
much as we can) that persuasion, and because our persuasion
concerning these attributes of God will be still liable to assault
unless we acknowledge him everywhere present; (nor can it
vfril be conceivable otherwise, how the influence of his know-
ledge, power, and goodness, can be so universal, as will be
thought necessary to infer a universal obligation to religion ;)
it will be therefore requisite to add,
Fourthly, Somewhat concerning his omnipresence, or be-
cause some, that love to be very strictly critical, will be apt
to think that, term restrictive of his presence to the universe,
(as supposing to be present is relative to somewhat one may
be said present unto, whereas they will say without the uni-
verse, is nothing,) we will rather choose to call it immensity.
For though it would sufficiently answer our purpose, that his
presence be universal to all his creatures ; yet even this is to
be proved by such arguments as will conclude him simply im-
mense ; which therefore will with the greater advantage infer
the thing Ave intend. This part of divine perfection we will
acknowledge to have been impugned, by some that have pro-
jessed much devotedness to a Deity and religion: we will
therefore charitably suppose that opposition to have joined
with inadvertencv of the ill tendency of it; that is, how un-
warrantably it would maim the notion of the former, and shake
the foundations of the latter. Nor therefore ought that charity
to be any allay to a just zeal for so great concerns.
It seems then manifestly repugnant to the notion of an in-
finitely perfect Being, to suppose it less than simply immense.
For, upon that supposition it must either be limited to some
certain place, or excluded out of all. The latter of these
would be most openly to deny it ; as hath with irrefragable
evidence been abundantly manifested by the most learned Dr.
More, (both in his Dialogues and Enchiridio7i Metapfij/s.)
whereto it would be needless and vain to attempt to add any
thing. Nor is that the thing pretended to by the sort of persons
1 now chiefly intend.
And for the former, 1 would inquire, Is amplitude of es-
CHAP. VI. THE LIVTVC TEMPT. F:. 9:*)?
sence no perfection ? Or were the confining of this Being to
the very minutest space we cnn imagine, no detraction from
the perfection of it ? What if the amplitude of that glorious
and ever-blessed Essence were said to be only of that extent
(may it be spoken with all reverence, and resentment of the
unhappy necessity we have of making so mean a supposition}
as to have been confined unto that one temple to which of old.
he chose to confine his more solemn worship ; that he could be
essentially present, only here at once, and nowhere else ; were
this no detraction ? They that think him only to replenish and
be present by his essence in the highest heaven, (as some are
wont, to speak,) would they not confess it were a meaner and
much lower thought to suppose that presence circumscribed
within the so unconceivably narrower limits as the walls of a
house ? If they should pretend to ascribe to him some per-
fection beyond this, by supposing his essential presence com-
mensurable to the vaster territory of the highest heavens ; even
by the same supposition, they should deny to him greater per-
fection than they ascribe. For the perfection which in this
kind they would ascribe, were finite only ; but that which they
would deny, Avere infinite.
Again, they will however acknowledge omnipotency a per-
fection included in the notion of an absolutely perfect Being ;
therefore they will grant, he can create another world (for
they do not pretend to believe this infinite ; and if they did,
by their supposition, they Avould give away their cause J at
any the greatest distance we can conceive from this ; therefore
so far his power can extend itself. But what, his power with-
out his being ? What then is his power ? Something, or
nothing ? Nothing can do nothing ; therefore not make a
world. It is then some being, and whose being is it but his
own ? Is it a created being ? That is to suppose him first,
impotent, and then to have created omnipotency, when he
could do nothing. Whence by the way we may see to how
little purpose that distinction can be applied in the present case
of essential and virtual contact, where the essence and virtue
cannot but be the same. But shall it be said, he must, in
order to the creating such another world, locally move thither
where he designs it ? I ask then, But can he not at the same
time create thousands of worlds at any distance from this round
about it ? No man can imagine this to be impossible to him
that can do all things. W hcrefore of such extent is his power,
and consequently his being. Will they therefore say he can
immensely, if he please, diffuse his being, but he voluntarily
3
§52 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
contracts it ? It is answered, that is altogether impossible to a
being, that is whatsoever it is by a simple and absolute neces-
sity, for whatsoever it is necessarily, it is unalterably and eter-
rally, or is pure act, and in a possibility to be nothing which
it already is not. Therefore since God can every way exert
his power, he is necessarily, already, everywhere : and hence,
God's immensity is the true reason of his immobility ; there
being no imaginable space, which he doth not necessarily re-
plenish. Whence also, the supposition of his being so con-
fined (as was said) is immediately repugnant to the notion of a
necessary Being, as well as of an absolutely perfect, which hath
been argued from it. We might moreover add, that upon
the same supposition God might truly be said to have made a
creature greater than himself, (for such this universe apparently
were,) and that he can make one (as they must confess who deny
him not to be omnipotent) most unconceivably greater than
this universe now is. Nothing therefore seems more manifest
than that God is immense, or (as we may express it) extrinsi-
cally infinite, with respect to place ; as well as intrinsically,
in respect to the plenitude of his being and perfection. Only
it may be requisite to consider briefly what is said against it
by the otherwise minded, that pretend not to deny his infinity
in that other sense. Wherein that this discourse swell not
beyond just bounds, their strength, namely, of argument, (for it
will not be so seasonable here to discuss with them the texts of
scripture wont to be insisted on in this matter,) shall be viewed
as it is collected and gathered up in one of them.
IV. And that shall be, Curcellams, * who gives it as suc-
cinctly and fully as any I have met with of that sort of men.
The doctrine itself we may take from him thus. On the negative
part, by way of denial of what we have been hitherto asserting,
he says, " The foundation," (that is, of a. distinction of Ma-
resius's to which he is relying, for so occasionally comes in the
discourse,) « namely, the infinity of the divine essence, is not
so firm as is commonly thought." And that therefore it may
be thought less firm, he thinks fit to cast a slur upon it, by
making it the doctrine of the Stoics, exprest by Virgil,
Jovis omnia plena — all things are full of Jupiter; (as
if it must needs be false, because Virgil said it, though I
could tell, if it were worth the while, where Virgil speaks
more agreeably to his sense than ours, according to which he
might as well have interpreted this passage, as divers texts of
* De Vocibus Trinit. &c.
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 253
scripture ; and then his authority might have been, of some
value ;) and by Lucan, who helps, it seems, to disgrace and
spoil it ; Jupiter est quodeunque vides, quoeunque moveris
— Jupiter is, whatever you see and wherever you g'o. He
might, if he had a mind to make it thought Paganish, have
quoted a good many more, but then there might have been
some danger it should pass for a common notion. Next, he
quotes some passages of the Fathers that import dislike of it,
about which we need not concern ourselves ; for the question
is not what this or that man thought. And then, for the posi-
tive account of his own judgment in the case, having cited di-
vers texts out of the Bible that seemed as he apprehended to
make against him, he would have us believe, that these all
speak rather of God's providence and power by which he con-
cerns himself in all our works, words, and thoughts, whereso-
ever we live, than of the absolute infinity of his essence.
And afterwards, * That God is by his essence in the supreme
heaven, where he inhabits the inaccessible light, but thence he
sends out for himself a spirit, or a certain force, whither he
pleases, by which he is truly present, and works there.
But we proceed to his reasons, which he saith are not to be
contemned. We shall therefore not contemn them so far, as
not to take notice of them ; which trouble also the reader may
please to be at, and afterward do as he think fit.
First, That no difference can be conceived between God and
creatures, if God, as they commonly speak, be wholly, in
every point, or do fill all the points of the universe with his
whole essence : for so whatsoever at all is, will be God himself.
Anszo. And that is most marvellous, that the in-being of one
thing in another must needs take away all their difference, and
confound them each with other ; -which sure would much
rather argue them distinct. For certainly it cannot, without
* Unto which purpose speaks at large VoUcclius de vera Relig. Quia enim
Dei & potentia & sapientia ad res omnes extenditur, uti & potestas sivc
imperium; ideo ubique prasens, omniaque numine suo complere dicitun,
&c. — Because the power and wisdom of God extend to all things, as also
his authority or dominion; therefore he is said to be everywhere present,
and to fill all things with his divinity. /. 1. c. 97- Slichtingius Artie, de
fiho Dei. Ad Ps. 139. 6, 7. Nee loquitur David de spiritu sancto, qui
peculiaris quidem Dei spiritus est, sed de spiritu Dei simpliciter. Nee
dicit spiritum istum ubique re esse sed tantum docet nullum esse locum,
ad quern is nequeat pertingere, &c— Nor does David speak of the Holy
Spirit, but of the Spirit of God simply. Nor does he say that that Spirit
is really everywhere, but only informs us there is noplace to which it can-
not extend. So also F. Socin. Smalcius. And {though not altogether so eic-
pressly as the rest) Vontius, Crellius, #c.
254 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART I.
great impropriety, be said that any thing is in itself: and is
both the container and contained. How were these thoughts
in his mind ? And these very notions which he opposes to each
other, so as not to be Confounded with his mind, and conse-
quently with one another ? So that it is a great wonder he was
not of both opinions at once. And how did he think his soul
to be in his body, which, though substantially united with it,
(and that is somewhat more, as we will suppose he knew was
commonly held, that to be intimately present,) was not yet the
same thing ? However, himself acknowledges the power and
providence of God to be every where : and then at least every
thing must, it seems, be the very power and providence of
God. But he thought, it may be, only of confuting the words
of Lucan, and chastising his poetic liberty. And if he would
have been at the pains to turn all their strains and raptures
into propositions, and so have gravely fallen to confuting them,
he might perhaps have found as proper an exercise for his
logic as this. As for his talk of a whole, whereof we acknow-
ledge no parts, (as if he imagined the divine essence to be com-
pounded of such, he should have said so, and have proved it,)
it is an absurd scheme of speech, which may be left to him,
and them that use it, to make their best of.
Secondly, No Idolatry can be committed, if there be not the
least point to be found, that is not wholly full of Avhole God :
for whithersoever worship shall be directed, it shall be directed
to God himself, who will be no less there than in heaven.
Answ. This proceeds upon the supposition that the former
would be granted as soon as it should be heard, as a self-evi-
dent principle, that whatsoever is in another, is that in which
it is; and so his consequence were most undeniable. But
though we acknowledge God to be in every thing, yet so to
worship him in anything, as if his essential presence were
confined thereto, while it ought to be conceived of as immense,
this is idolatry : and therefore they who so conceive of it, as
confined, (or tied in any respect, wherein he hath not so tied it
himself, )are^oncerned to beware of running upon this rock.
Thirdly, Nor can the opinion of fanatics be solidly refuted,
who call themselves spiritual, when they determine God to be
all in all ; to do not only good but evil things, because he is
to be accounted to be essentially in all the atoms of the world,
in whole ; and as a common soul, by which all the parts of the
universe do act.
Answ. We may in time make trial whether they can be re-
futed or no, or whether any solid ground will be left for it ; at
this time it will suffice to say, that though he be present every
6HAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 955
where as a necessary Being, yet he acts as a free cause, and
according as his wisdom, his good pleasure, his holiness and
justice do guide his action.
Fourthly, So God will be equally present with the wicked,
and with the holy and godly, with the damned in hell, and
devils, as with the blessed in heaven, or Christ himself.
Ansio. So he will, in respect of his essential presence. How
he is otherwise (distinguishingly enough) present in his temple,
we shall have occasion hereafter to shew.
Fifthly, That I say not how shameful it is to think, that
the most pure and holy God should be as much in the most
misty places as in heaven, &c. (I forbear to recite the rest of
this uncleanly argument, which is strong in nothing but ill sa-
vour.) But for
Answ. How strange a notion was this of holiness, by which
it is set in opposition to corporeal filthiness ! As if a holy man
should lose or very much blemish his sanctity, by a casual
fall into a puddle. Indeed, if sense must give us measures of
God, and every thing must be reckoned an offence to him that
is so to it, we shall soon frame to ourselves a God altogether
such a one as ourselves. The Epicureans themselves would
have been ashamed to reason or conceive thus of God, who
tell us the Divine Being is as little capable of receiving a stroke,
as the inane ; and surely (in proportion) of any sensible of-
fence. We might as well suppose him in danger, as Dr. More
(in his Dialogues) fitly expresses it, to be hurt with a thorn,
as offended with an ill smell.
^ r e have then enough to assure us of God's absolute im-
mensity and omnipresence, and nothing of that value against
it as ought to shake our belief herein.. And surely the consi-
deration of this, added to the other of his perfections, (and
which tends so directly to facilitate and strengthen our per-
suasion concerning the rest,) may render us assuredly certain,
that we shall find him a conversable Being ; *if we seriously
apply ourselves to converse with him, and will but allow him
the liberty of that temple within us, whereof we are hereafter
(with his leave and help) to treat more distinctly and at large.
THE END OF THE FIItST PART-
THE
LIVING TEMPLE.
PART II.
CONTAINING
ANIMADVERSIONS ON SPINOSA,
AND
A FRENCH WRITER
PRETENDING TO CONFUTE HIM.
WITH
A RECAPITULATION OF THE FORMER PART,
AND AN ACCOUNT OF THE DESTITUTION AND RESTITUTION OF
GOD'S TEMPLE AMONG MEN.
VOL. I.
2l
PREFACE,
Shewing the inducement and general contents of this Second Part. The
occasion of considering Spinosa, and a French writer who pretends to
confute him. A specimen of the way and strength of the former's
reasoning, as an introduction to a more distinct examination of such
of his positions, as the design of this discourse was more directly con'
cerned in.
TT is not worth the while to trouhle the reader with an account why
-"- the progress of this work (begun many years ago, in a former Part)
hath been so long delayed; or why it is now resumed. There are cases
wherein things too little for public notice, may be sufficient reasons to one's
self: and such self-satisfaction is all that can be requisite, in a matter of
no more importance than that circumstance only, of the time of sending
abroad a discourse, of such a nature and subject, as that if it can be use-
ful at any time, will be so at all times. The business of the present dis-
course, is religion; which is not the concern of an age only, or of this
or that time, but of all times; and which, in respect of its grounds
and basis, is eternal, and can never cease or vary. But if in its use and
exercise it do at any time more visibly languish, by attempts against its
foundations, an endeavour to establish them, if it be not altogether unfit
to serve that purpose, will not be liable to be blamed as unseasonable.
Every one will understand, that a design further to establish the grounds
of religion, can have no other meaning, than only to represent their
stability unshaken by any attempts upon them ; that being all that is either
possible in this case, or needful. Nothing more is possible: for if there
be not already, in the nature of things, a sufficient foundation of reli-
gion, it is now too late; for their course and order cannot begin again.
Nor is any thing, besides such a representation, needful : for have the
adventures of daring wits (as they are fond of being thought) altered the
nature of things ? Or hath their mere breath thrown the world off from its
ancient basis, and new-moulded the universe, so as to make things be after
the way of their own hearts ? Or have they prevailed upon themselves,
firmly to believe things are as they would wish ?
One would be ashamed to be of that sort of creature, called Man, and
count it an unsufferable reproach to be long unresolved, Whether there.
260 A PREFACE.
ought to be such a thing in the world as religion, yea, or no. What ever
came on it, or whatsoever I did or did not besides, I would drive this
business to an issue; I would never endure to be long in suspense about
so weighty and important a question. But if I inclined to the negative,
I would rest in nothing short of the plainest demonstration : for I am to
dispute against mankind ; and eternity hangs upon it. If I misjudge, 1 run
counter to the common sentiments of all the world, and I am lost for ever.
The opposers of it have nothing but inclination to oppose to it, with a bold
jest now and then. But if I consider the unrefuted demonstrations brought
for it, with the consequences, religion is the last thing in all the world upon
which I would adventure to break a jest. And I would ask such as have
attempted to argue against it, Have their strongest arguments conquered
their fear? Have they no suspicion left, that the other side of the question
may prove true ? They have done all they can, by often repeating their
faint despairing wishes, and the mutterings of their hearts, " No God ! no
God !" to make themselves believe there is none; when yet the restless toss-
ings to and fro of their uneasy minds; their tasking and torturing that little
residue of wit and common sense, which their riot hath left them, (the.
excess of which latter, as well shews as causes the defect of the former,) to
try every new method and scheme of atheism they hear of, implies their
distrust of all; and their suspicion, that do what they can, things will still
be as they were, that is, most adverse and unfavourable to that way of liv-
ing, which however at a venture, they had before resolved on. There-
fore, they find it necessary to continue their contrivances, how more ef-
fectually to disburden themselves of any obligation to be religious; and
hope, at least, some or other great wit may reach further than their own ;
and that either by some new model of thoughts, or by not thinking, it may
be possible at length to argue or wink the Deity into nothing, and all
religion out of the world.
And we are really to do the age that right, as to acknowledge, the ge-
nius of it aims at more consistency and agreement with itself, and more
cleverly to reconcile notions with common practice, than heretofore.
Men seem to be grown weary of the old dull way of practising all manner
of lewdnesses, and pretending to repent of them ; to sin, and say they are
sorry for it. The running this long-beaten circular tract of doing and
repenting the same things, looks ridiculously, and they begin to be ashamed
of it. A less interrupted and more progressive course in their licen-
tious ways, looks braver ; and they count it more plausible to disbelieve
this world to have any ruler at all, than to suppose it to have such a one
as they can cheat and mock with so easy and ludicrous a repentance, or
reconcile to their wickedness, only by calling themselves wicked, while
they still mean to continue so. And perhaps of any other repentance they
have not heard much ; or if they have, they count it a more heroical, or
feel it an easier thing to laugh away the fear of any future account or
punishment, than to endure the severities of a serious repentance, and a
regular life. Nor can they, however, think the torments of any hell so
little tolerable as those of a sober and pious life upon earth. And for their
happening to prove everlasting, they think they may run the hazard of
that. For as they can make a sufficient shift to secure themselves from
the latter sort of torments, so they believe the champions of their caus?
have taken sufficient care to secure them from the former.
A PREFACE. §61
As religion bath its gospel and evangelists, so hath atheism and irre-
ligion too. There are tidings of peace sent to such as shall repent and
turn to God : and there have been those appointed, whose business it
should be to publish and expound them to the world. This also is the
method for carrying on the design of irreligion. Doctrines are invented
to make men fearless, and believe they need no repentance. And some
have taken the part to assert and defend such doctrines, to evangelize the
world, and cry " peace, peace," to men, upon these horrid terms. And
these undertake for the common herd, encourage them to indulge them-
selves all manner of liberty, while they watch for them, and guard the
coasts: and no faith was ever more implicit or resigned, than the infi-
delity and disbelief of the more unthinking sort of these men. They
reckon it is not every one's part to think. It is enough for the most to
be boldly wicked, and credit their common cause, by an open contempt
of God and religion. The other warrant them safe, and confidently tell
them they may securely disbelieve all that ever hath been said, to make
a religious regular life be thought necessary; as only invented frauds of
sour and ill-natured men, that envy to mankind the felicity whereof their
nature hath made them capable, and which their own odd preternatural
humour makes them neglect and censure.
And for these defenders of the atheistical cause, it being their part and
province to cut off* the aids of reason from religion, to make it seem an
irrational and a ridiculous thing, and to warrant and justify the disuse
and contempt of it, and as it were, to cover the siege, wherewith the
common rout have begirt the temple of God; they have had less leisure
themselves, to debauch and wallow in more grossly sensual impurities.
Herewith the thinking part did less agree: and they might perhaps count
it a greater thing to make debauchees than to be such, and reckon it
was glory enough to them to head and lead on the numerous throng,
and pleasure enough to see them they had so thoroughly disciplined to
the service, throw dirt and squibs at the sacred pile, the dwelling of
God among men on earth, and cry, "Down with it even to the ground."
Nor for this sort of men, whose business was only to be done by noise and
clamour, or by jest and laughter, we could think them no more fit to be
discoursed with than a whirlwind, or an ignis fatuus. But for such as have
assumed to themselves the confidence to pretend to reason, it was not fit
they should have cause to think themselves neglected. Considering,
therefore, that if the existence of a Deity were fully proved, (that is,
such as must be the fit object of religion, or of the honour of a temple,)
all the little cavils against it must signify nothing, (because the same
thing cannot be both true and false,) we have in the former part of
this discourse, endeavoured to assert so much in an argumentative way.
And therefore first laid down such a notion of God, as even atheists
themselves, while they deny him to exist, cannot but grant to be the
true notion of the thing they deny; namely, summarily, that he can be
no other than a being absolutely perfect. And thereupon next proceeded
to evince the existence of such a being. And whereas this might have been
attempted in another method, as was noted Part 1. Ch. 1. by concluding
the existence of such a being first from the idea of it, which (as a fundamental
perfection) involves existence; yea, and necessity of existence, most appa?
rently in it. Because that was clamoured at as sophistical and captious,
202 A PREFACE.
(though very firm unslidingsteps might,with caution, be taken in that way,*)
yet we rather chose the other as plainer, more upon the square, more easily
intelligible and convictive, and less liable to exception in any kind; that
is, rather to begin at the bottom, and rise from necessity of existence, to
absolute perfection, than to begin at the top, and prove downward, from
absolute perfection, necessity of existence.
Now, if it do appear from what hath been said concerning the nature
of necessary, self-existing being, that it cannot but be absolutely perfect,
even as it is such, since nothing is more evident than that some being or
other doth exist necessarily, or of itself, our point is gained without more
ado: that is, we have an object of religion, or one to whom a temple
duly belongs. We thereupon used some endeavour to make that good,
and secure that more compendious way to our end ; as may be seen in
the former Part. Which was endeavoured as it was a nearer and more
expeditious course ; not that the main cause of religion did depend upon
the immediate and self-evident reciprocal connexion of the terms, ne-
cessary existence, and absolute perfection, as we shall see hereafter in the
following discourse : but because there are other hypotheses, that pro-
ceed either upon the denial of any necessary being that is absolutely per-
fect, or upon the assertion of some necessary being that is not absolutely
perfect; it hence appears requisite, to undertake the examination of
what is said to either of these purposes, and to shew with how little pre-
tence a necessary most perfect being is denied, or any such imperfect ne«
cess a ry being, is either asserted or imagined.
We shall therefore in this Second Part, First, take into consideration
what is (with equal absurdity and impiety) asserted by one author, of the
identity of all substance, of the impossibility of one substance being pro-
duced by another, and consequently of one necessary self-existing be-
ing, pretended with gross self-repugnancy, to be endued with infinite per-
fections, but really represented the common receptacle of all imaginable
imperfection and confusion. — Next, what is asserted by another in avow-
ed opposition to him, of a necessary self-existent being, that is at the same
time said to be essentially imperfect. — Then we shall recapitulate what
had been discoursed in the former Part, for proof of such a necessarily
existent and absolutely perfect being, as is there asserted. — Thence we
shall proceed to shew how reasonably scripture testimony is to be relied
upon, in reference to some things concerning God, and the religion of
his temple, which either are not so clearly demonstrable, or not at all
discoverable the rational wav. — And shall lastly shew how it hath comfr
to pass, if God be such as he hath been represented, so capable of a
temple with man, so apt and inclined to inhabit such a one, that he
should ever not do so; or how such a temple should ever cease, or be un-
inhabited and desolate, that the known way of its restitution may be the
more rcgardable and marvellous in our eyes.
The authors against whom we are to be concerned, are Benedictus Spinosa,
a Jew, and an anonymous French writer, who pretends to confute him.
And the better to prepare our way, we shall go on to preface something con-
cerning the former, namely, Spinosa, whose scheme, (as it is laid down in his
* As by the excellent Dr. Cud worth, in his Intellectual System, we find
it done.
A PREFACE. 263
posthumous Ethicks,) though with great pretence of devotion, it acknow-
Ledgesa Deity, yet so confounds this his fictitious Deity with every sub-
stantial being in the world besides, that upon the whole it appears alto-
gether inconsistent with any rational exercise or sentiment of religion at
aJL And indeed, the mere pointing with the finger at the most discerni-
ble and absurd weakness of some of his principal supports, might be
*ufficient to overturn his whole fabric; though perhaps he thought
the fraudulent artifice of contriving it geometrically must confound all
the world, and make men think it not liable to be attacked in any part.
But whether it can, or no, we shall make some present trial ; and for
a previous essay, (to shew that he is not invulnerable, and that his scales
do not more closely cohere, than those of his brother-leviathan,) do but
compare his definition of an attribute. * " That which the understand-
ing perceives of substance; as constituting the essence thereof" with
his fifth Proposition, " There cannot be two, or more substances of the.
same nature, or attribute," which is as much as to say that two sub-
tances cannot be one and the same substance. For the attribute of any
substance (saith he) constitutes its essence ; whereas the essence there-
fore of one thing, cannot be the essence of another thing, if such an
attribute be the essence of one substance, it cannot be the essence of
another substance. A rare discovery ! and which needed mathematical
demonstration! Well, and what now? Nothing it is true can be
plainer, if by the same attribute or nature, he means numerically the
same; it only signifies one thing is not another thing. But if he mean
there cannot be two things or substances, of the same special or general
nature, he hath his whole business yet to do, which how he does, we shall
see in time.
But now compare herewith his definition of what he thinks fit to
dignify with the sacred name of God, t "By God (saith he) I under-
stand a being absolutely infinite ; that is, a substance consisting of in.
finite attributes, every one whereof expresses an infinite essence." And
behold the admirable agreement ! how amicably his definition of an at-
tribute, and that mentioned proposition, accord with this definition (as he
calls it) of God ! There cannot be two substances, he saith, that have the
same attribute, that is, the same essence. But now it seems the same sub-
stance may have infinite attributes, that is, infinite essences ! O yes, very
conveniently : for, he tells you that two attributes really distinct, we cannot
conclude do constitute two divers substances. J And why do they not ?
Because it belongs to the nature of substance, that each of its attributes be
conceived by itself, &c Let us consider his assertion, and his reason for it.
He determines, you see, two really distinct attributes do not constitute
two divers substances. You must not here take any other men's notion of
an attribute, according to which, there may be accidental attributes, that,
we are sure, would not infer diversity of substances for their subjects ; or,
there may be also essential ones, that only flow from the essence ot the
thing to which they belong ; so, too, nobody doubts one thing may have
many properties. But we must take his own notion of an attribute, ac-
cording whereto it constitutes, or (which is all one) is, that very essence.
Now will not such attributes as these, being really distinct, make di-
* Ethic. Part 1. Def. 4. t Definit. 6. J Schol. in Prop. 10.
264 A' PREFACE.
vers substances ? Surely what things are essentially diverse, must be
concluded to be most diverse. But these attributes are by himself sup-
posed to be really distinct, and to constitute (which is to be) the essence
of the substance. And how is that one thing, or one substance, which
hath many essences? If the essence of a thing be that, by which it is what
it is, surely the plurality of essences must make a plurality of things.
But it may be said, Cannot one thing be compounded of two or more
things essentially diverse, as the soul and body of a man ; whence there-
fore, the same thing, namely, a man, will have two essences? This is
true, but impertinent. For the very notion of composition signifies these
are two things united, not identified, that are capable of being again
separated ; and that the third thing, which results from them both united,
contains them still distinct from one another, not the same.
But it may be said, though these attributes are acknowledged and as-
serted to be distinct from one another, they are yet found in one and th«
same substance common to them all. And this no more ought to be
reckoned repugnant to common reason, than the philosophy heretofore
in credit, which taught that the vast diversity of forms throughout the
universe, which were counted so many distinct essences, do yet all reside
in the same first matter, as the common receptacle of them all.
Nor yet cloth this salve the business, were that philosophy ever so sure
and sacred. For you must consider he asserts an attribute is that which
constitutes the essence of the substance in which it is. But that philoso-
phy never taught the forms lodged in the same common matter were its
essence, though they were supposed to essentiate the composite/, which
resulted from their union therewith. Yea, it did teach they were so
little the essence of that common matter, that they might be expelled
out of it, and succeeded by new ones, and yet the matter which received
them still remain the same. But that an attribute should be supposed to
he the essence of the substance to which it belongs ; and that another
superadded attribute, which is also the essence of substance, should not
make another substance essentially distinct, is an assertion as repugnant
to common sense, as two and two make not four. But that which com-
pletes the jest, (though a tremendous one upon so awful a subject,) is,
that this author should so gravely tell the world, they who are not of his
Sentiment, being ignorant of the causes of things, confound all things ;
imagine trees and men speaking alike, confound the divine nature with
the human, &c. * Who would imagine this to be the complaining voice
of one so industriously labouring to mingle heaven and earth ! and to
make God, and men, and beasts, and stones, and trees, all one and the
same individual substance !
And now let us consider the reason of that assertion of his ; f why two
attributes really distinct, do not constitute two beings, or two distinct
substances ; because, saith he, it is of the nature of substance that each of
its attributes be conceived by itself, &c. A marvellous reason ! Divers
attributes, each whereof, as before, constitutes the essence of substance,
do not make divers substances ; because those attributes may be con-
ceived apart from each other, and are not produced by one another. It
was too plain to need a proof, (as was observed before,) that there cannot
* Schol. S. in Prop. .8. Part l. f Schol. in Prop. 10.
A PREFACE. 265
be two substances of one attribute, or of one essence, (as bis notion of an
attribute is,) that is, two are not one. But that two attributes or essences
of substance, cannot make two substances, because they are diverse, is
very surprisingly strange. This was (as Cicero upon as good an occasion
speaks) not to consider but cast lots what to say. And it deserves obser-
vation too, how well this assertion, " That two distinct attributes do not
constitute two distinct substances," agrees with that,* "Two substances
having divers attributes, have nothing common between them.'' This
must certainly suppose the diversity of attributes to make the greatest
diversity of substances imaginable; when they admit not there should be
any thing (not the least thing r) common between them ! And yet they
make not distinct substances !
But this was only to make way for what was to follow, the overthrow of
the creation. A thing he was so over intent upon, that in the heat of his
zeal and haste, he makes all fly asunder before him, and overturns even
bis own batteries as fast as he raises them; says and unsays, does and un-
does, at all adventures. Here two substances are supposed having distinct
attributes, that is, distinct essences, to have therefore nothing common be-
tween them; and yet presently after, though two, or ever so many distinct
attributes, give unto substance two, or ever so many distinct essences, yet
they shall not be so much as two, but one only. For to the query put by
himself, By what sign one may discern the diversity of substances? he
roundly answers, (Schol. in Prop. 10.) The following propositions would
shew there was no other substance but one, and that one infinite, and
therefore how substances were to be diversified would be inquired in vain.
Indeed, it would be in vain, if knowing them to have different essences,
we must not yet call them different substances. But how the following
propositions do shew there can be no more than one substance, we shall
see in time. We shall for the present take leave of him, until we meet
bim again in the following discourse.
* Prop. <?.
VOL. I. 2 H
THE
LIVING TEMPLE.
PART II.
CHAP. I.
Wherein is shewn, I. The destructiveness of Spinosa's scheme and design
to religion and the temple of God. II. The repugnancy of his doctrine
to this assertion — That whatsoever exists necessarily and of itself, is
absolutely perfect; which is therefore further weighed. III. His v*rm
attempt to prove what hedesigns: also his second proposition considered.
IV. His definition of a substance defective; and proves not his pur-
pose. V. His third, fourth, fifth, and sixth propositions considered.
VI. His fourth axiom examined. VII. His seventh and eighth pro-
positions ; his eighth Scholia. VIII. His inconsistency with himself,
and with reason and religion. IX. The manuductio ad pantosophiam—
A guide to all kinds of wisdom. X. Concluding remarks.
HITHERTO we have discoursed only of the Owner of
this temple, and shewn to whom it rightfully belongs ;
namely, That there is one only necessary, self-existing, and
most absolutely-perfect Being, the glorious and ever-blessed
God — who is capable of our converse, and inclined thereto j
whom we are to conceive as justly claiming a temple with us,
and ready, upon our willing surrender, to erect in us, or
repair such a one, make it habitable, to inhabit and replenish
it with his holy and most delectable presence, and converse
with us therein suitably to himself and us ; that is, to his own
excellency and fulness, and to our indigency and wretched-
ness. And now the order of discourse would lead us to behold
the sacred structure rising, and view the surprising methods
by which it is brought about, that any such thing should have
place in such a world as this. But we must yield to stay, and
be detained a little by some things of greater importance than
merely the more even shape and order of a discourse ; that is,
looking back upon what hath been much insisted on in the
268 THE LIVING TEMPLE. TART II.
former Pari — Tliat some being or other doth exist necessarily
and of itself, which is of absolute or universal perfection —
and taking notice of the opposite sentiments of some hereto ;
because the Avhole design of evincing an object of religion
would manifestly be much served hereby, we could not but
reckon it of great importance to consider what is said against
it. We have observed in the Preface a two-fold opposite hy-
pothesis, which therefore, before we go further in the discourse
of this temple of God, require to be discussed.
I. The first is that of Spinosa, which he hath more ex-
pressly stated, and undertaken with great pomp and boast to
demonstrate, in his Posthumous Ethicks ; which we shall
therefore so far consider, as doth concern our present design.
He there, as hath been noted in the Preface, asserts all " sub-
stance to be self-existent, and to be infinite ; that one substance
is improducible by another ; that there is but one, and this one
he calls God, &c." Now this horrid scheme of his, though he and
his followers would cheat the world with names, and with a spe-
cious shew of piety, is as directly levelled against all religion,
as any the most avowed atheism : for, as to religion, it is all one
whether we make nothing to be God, or every thing ; whether we
allow of no God to be worshipped, or leave none to worship him.
His portentous attempt to identify and deify all substance, at-
tended with that strange pair of attributes, extension and
lfious:kt, (and an infinite number of others besides,) hath a
manifest design to throw religion out of the world that way.
II. And it. most directly opposes the notion of a self-existent
Being, which is absolutely perfect : for such a being must be
a substance, if it be any thing ; and he allows no substance but
one, and therefore none to be perfect, unless all be so. And
since we are sure some is imperfect, it will be consequent there
is none absolutely perfect ; for that the same should be imper-
fect, and absolutely perfect, is impossible. Besides, that he
makes it no way possible to one substance to produce another,
and what is so impotent must be very imperfect : yea, and
whatsoever is not omnipotent, is evidently not absolutely per-
fect. We are therefore cast upon reconsidering this proposition
— Whatsoever being exists necessarily and of itself, is absolutely
perfect. It is true that if any being be evinced to exist necessarily
and of itself, which is absolutely perfect, this gives us an ob-
ject of religion, and throws Spinosa's farrago, his confused
heap and jumble of self-existent being, into nothing. But
if we carry the universal proposition as it is laid down, though
CHAP. I. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 269
that will oblige us afterwards as Avell to confute his French
confuter, as him ; it carries the cause of religion with much the
greater clearness, and with evident, unexceptionable self-con-
sistency. For indeed that being cannot be understood to be
absolutely perfect, which doth not eminently comprehend the
entire fulness of all being in itself; as that must be a heap of
imperfection, an everlasting chaos, an impossible, self-repug-
nant medley, that should be pretended to contain all the va-
rieties, the diversifications, compositions, and mixtures of
things in itself formally. And for the universal proposition:
the matter itself requires not an immediate, self-evident, re-
ciprocal connexion of the terms — necessarily self-existent, and
absolutely perfect. — It is enough that it however be brought
about by gradual steps, in a way that at length cannot fail ;
and I conceive hath been in the method that Avas followed in
the former Part.
For, to bring the business now within as narrow a compass
as is possible : nothing is more evident than that some being
exists necessarily, or of itself; otherwise nothing at all could
now exist. Again, for the same reason, there is some neces-
sary or self-existent being that is the cause of whatsoever be-
ing exists not of itself ; oilier wise, nothing of that kind could
ever come into being. Now that necessary being, which is
the cause of all other being, will most manifestly appear to be
absolutely perfect. For, if it be universally causative of all
other being, it must both have been the actual cause of all be-
ing that doth actually exist, and can only be the possible cause
of all that is possible to exist. Now so universal a cause can
l)e no other than an absolutely or universally perfect being.
For it could be the cause of nothing, which it did not virtually
or formally comprehend in itself. And that being which com-
prehends in itself all perfection, both actual and possible, must
be absolutely or universally perfect. And such a being, as hath
also further more particularly been made apparent, must be an
intelligent and a designing agent, or cause ; because, upon the
whole universe of produced beings, there are most manifest cha-
racters of design, in the passive sense ; that is, of their having
been designed to serve ends to which they have so direct and
constant an aptitude: so that the attempt to make it be believed
they were forced or fell into that posture of subserviency to such
and such ends, by any pretended necessity upon their prin-
cipal cause or causes, or by mere casualty, looks like the most
ludicrous trifling to any man of sense. For among produced be-
270 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
ings there are found to be many, that are themselves actively
designing, and that do understanding! y intend and pursue ends ;
and consequently that they themselves must partake of an in-
telligent, spiritual nature, since mere matter is most manifest-
ly incapable of thought or design* And also, by the most
evident, consequence, that their productive cause, (namely,
the necessary, self-existing being, whereto till other things
owe themselves,) must be a mind or spirit, inasmuch as to sup-
pose any effect to have any thing more of excellency in it than
the cause from whence it proceeded, is to suppose all that ex-
cellency to be effected without a cause, or to have arisen of
itself out of nothing. See former Part, Chap. III. Sect. VII.
Page IU.
Therefore if it did not immediately appear that necessary
being, as such, is absolutely perfect being ; yet, by this series
of discourse, it appears that the main cause of religion is still
safe ; inasmuch as that necessary being which is the cause of
all things else, is hoAvever evinced to be an absolutely perfect
Being, and particularly a necessary self-existent Mind or Spirit,
which is therefore a .most apparently fit and most deserving
object of religion, or of the honour of a temple ; which is the
sum of what we were concerned for. Nor did we need to be
solicitous, but that the unity or onliness of the necessary Be-
ing, would afterwards be made appear, as also we think it
was. For since the whole universe of produced being must
arise out of that which was necessary self-existent Being, it
must therefore comprehend all being in itself, its own formally,
and eminently all other ; that is, what was its own, being
formally its own, must be eminently also all being else, con-
tained in all possible simplicity, within the productive power
of its own. This Being therefore containing in itself all that
exists necessarily, Avith the poAver of producing all the rest,
which together make up all being, can primarily be but one,
inasmuch as there can be but one all. Upon the Avholc there-
fore, our general proposition is sufficiently evident, and out
of question — That Avhatever exists necessarily, and of itself, is
absolutely perfect. Nor is it at all incongruous that this matter
should be thus argued out, by such a train and deduction of con-
sequences, drawn from effects, that come under our present no-
tice ; for Iioav come Ave to knoAV that there is any self-existing
Being at all, but that Ave find there is somewhat in being that is
subject to continual mutation, and which therefore exists not
necessarily, (for Avhatsoever is AYhat it is necessarily, can never
CHAP. T. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 271
change, or be oilier than what it is,) but must be caused by
that which is necessary and self-existent. Nothing- could be
more reasonable or more certain than the deduction from what
appears of excellency and perfection in such being as is
caused; of the correspondent, and far-transcendent excellency
and perfection of its cause. But yet, after all this, if one set
himself attentively to consider, there must appear so near a con-
nexion between the very things themselves, self-existence, and
absolute perfection, that it can be no easy matter to conceive
them separately.
Self-existence ! Into how profound an abyss is a man cast
at the thought of it ! How doth it overwhelm and swallow up
his mind and whole soul ! Willi what satisfaction and delight
must he see himself comprehended, of what he finds he can
never comprehend ! For contemplating the self-existent Be-
ing, he finds it eternally, necessarily, never-not existing!
He can have no thought of the self-existing Being, as such,
(Des Cartes,) but as always existing, as having existed always,
as always certain to exist. Inquiring into the spring and
source of this Being's existence, Whence is it that it doth
exist? His own notion of a self-existing Being, which is not
arbitrarily taken up, but which the reason of things hath im-
posed upon him, gives him his answer ; and it can be no
other, in that it is a self-existent Being, it hath it of itself, that
it doth exist. It is an eternal, everlasting, spring and foun-
tain of perpetually-existent being to itself. What a glorious
excellency of being is this! What can this mean, but the
greatest remoteness from nothing that is possible ; that is, the
most absolute fulness and plenitude of all being and perfection ?
And whereas all caused being, as such, is, to every man's
understanding, confined within certain limits : what can the
uncaused self-existent Being be, but most unlimited, infinite,
all-comprehending, and most absolutely perfect ? Nothing
therefore can be more evident, titan that the self-existent Being
must be the absolutely perfect Being.
.And again, if you simply convert the terms, and let this
be the proposition, — That the absolutely-perfect Being is the
self-existent Being — it is most obvious to every one, that the
very notion of an absolutely-perfect Being carries necessity of
existence, or self-existence, in it ; which the notion of nothing
else doth. And indeed one great Master (Dr. More) of this
argument for the existence of God, hath himself told me,
" That though wfeen lie had puzzled divers atheists with it
they had been wont to quarrel at it, as sophistical and falla-
272 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART IT.
cious, he could never meet with any that could detect the so-
phism, or tell where any fallacy in it lay ; and that, upon the
whole, he relied upon if, as most solid and firm.'" And I
doubt not but it may be managed with that advantage as to be
very clearly concluding ; yet, because I reckoned the way I
have taken more clear, I chose it rather. But finding that so
near cognation and reciprocal connexion between the terms
both ways, I reckoned this short representation hereof, an-
nexed to the larger course of evincing the same thing, might
add no unuseful strength to it ; and doubt not to conclude,
upon the whole, that — whatsoever Being exists necessarily,
and of itself, is absolutely perfect — and can, therefore, be no
other than an intelligent Being ; that is, an infinite, eternal Mind,
and so a most fit, and the only fit deserving object of religion,
or of the honour of a temple.
III. But now, be all this ever so plain, it will, by some, be
thought all false, if they find any man to have contrivance
enough to devise some contrary scheme of things, and con-
fidence enough to pretend to prove it ; until that proof be
detected of weakness and vanity, which must first be our fur-
ther business -with Spinosa. And not intending to examine
particularly the several parts and junctures of his model, inas-
much as I find his whole design is lost, if he fail of evincing
these things, — That it belongs to all substance, as such, to
exist of itself, and be infinite — And, (which will be sufficiently
consequent hereupon,) That substance is but one, and that it
is impossible tor one substance to produce another. I shall
only attend to what he more directly says to this elfect,
and shall particularly apply myself to consider such of his
propositions as more immediately respect this his main design :
for they will bring us back to the definitions and axioms, or
other parts of his discourse, whereon those are grounded, and
even into all the darker and more pernicious recesses of his la-
byrinth ; so as every thing of importance to the mentioned pur-
pose will be drawn under our considevation, as this thread shall
lead us.
His first proposition we let pass ; 6i That a substance is, in
order of nature, before its affections;" having nothing ap-
plicable to his purpose in it, which we shall not otherwise
meet with.
His second, " That two substances, having divers attributes,
have nothing common between them ;" or, which must be
all one, do agree in nothing, I conceive it will be no great
presumption to deny. And since he is pleased herein to be
tHAF. t. THE LIVIKG TEMPLE. 273
divided from himself, it is a civility to his later and wiser self
to do so, who will afterwards have substance, having a multi*
tude of distinct attributes j that is, essences, (Schol. in Prop*
10.) and which therefore cannot but be manifold, to have
every thing common. So little Kath he common with him*
self.
And it will increase the obligation upon him, to deliver him
from the entanglement of his demonstration, as he calls it, of
this proposition ; as I hope we shall also of the other too, for
no doubt they are both false. Of this proposition his de-
monstration is fetched from his third definition, namely, of a
substance, " That which is in itself, and conceived by itself;
that is, whose conception needs the conception of nothing else,
whereby it ought to be formed ;" so is his definition defined
over and over*
IV. We are here to inquire t — Into his definition of a sub-
stance : and, Whether it sufficiently prove his proposition.
First, For his definition of a substance. He himself tells
us, (Schol. in Prop. 8.) " A definition ought to express no-
thing but the simple nature of the thing defined ;" and we may
ajs well expect it distinctly to express that. Doth this defini-
tion express the simple nature of a substance, U That which is
in itself," when it is left to divination what is meant by is 9
whether essence, or existence, or subsistence ? And when we
are to be at as random a guess, what is intended by being in,
itself? Whether being only contained, or being also sustain-
ed in, and by, or of itself? And supposing this latter to be
meant, whether that self-subsistence exclude dependence only
on another, as a subject^ which we acknowledge true of all
substance ; or dependence as on an efficient, which if he will
have to be taken for true of all, he was in reason to expect it
should be so taken from his effectual proof, not from the re-
verence of his authority only t for what he adds, " And that
is conceived by itself; and whose conception needs not the
conception of any other thing by which it ought to be form-
ed ;" — would he have us believe this to be true, when afterward
his tenth proposition is, "-" That every attribute of substance
ought to be conceived by itself?' 1 Whereupon then so many
attributes, so many substances, it being the nature of a substance
to be conceived by itself* But passing from his notion of a
substance, let us consider,
Second///, How it proves his proposition, that u Two sub-
stances, having different attributes, have nothing common be-
tween them," According to him, every attribute of substance
vol. i, 2 n
271 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
is to be conceived by itself; and yet have one and the same
substance common to them all : therefore the distinct concep-
tion of things is, even with him, no reason why they should
have nothing common between them. But as to the thing it-
self, he must have somewhat more enforcing than his defini-
tion of a substance, to prove that two (or many) individual sub-
stances may not have the same special nature common to them,
and yet be conceived by themselves ; having different individual
natures or attributes, or different special natures, having the
same general nature. Yea, and an equal dependence on the
same common cause, which is a less ingredient in the concep-
tion of a thing, than the general or special nature is. And 1
doubt not, we shall find he hath not disproved, but that there
is somewhat, in a true sense, common to them and their cause,
that is of a conception much more vastly different from them
both.
V. Whereupon, it is necessary to take distinct notice of
his third proposition, " What things have nothing common
between them, of them the one cannot be the cause of the
other." In which nothing is to be peculiarly animadverted
on, besides the contradiction in the very terms wherein it is
proposed, What things have nothing common between them.
How can they be things, and have nothing common between
them ? If they be things, they have sure the general notion
of things common to them ; there can therefore be no such
things, that have nothing common. And let this be supposed
to have been absurdly set down on purpose ; yet now, for his
demonstration hereof, it rests upon a palpable falsehood — that
causes and effects must be mutually understood by one another ;
as we shall see more hereafter.
His fourth proposition we let pass ; what it hath regardable
in it, being as fitly to be considered under the fifth ; " There
cannot be two or more substances, in the whole universe, of
the same nature or attribute j" unto which, besides what hath
been said already, we need only here to add, that (whereas
he hath told us, by the attribute of a substance, he means the
essence of it) if he here speak of the same numerical essence or
attribute, it is ridiculously true ; and is no more than if he
had said, One thing is but one thing. If he speak of the same
special or general attribute or essence, it is as absurdly false ;
and for the proof of it, in the latter sense his demonstration
signifies nothing. There may be more than one (as a stone, a
tree, an animal) that agree in the same general attribute of
corporeity, and axe diversified by their special attributes ; and
f.HAP. I« THE LIVING TEMPLE. £75
there may be many of the same special attribute, (namely, of
rationality,) as John, Peter, Thomas, &c. that are distin-
guished by their individual ones. He might as well prove,
by the same method, the identity of his modi, as oC substan-
ces ; as that there can be but one individual triangle in all the
world, of one attribute or property, as but one substance-
Let (for instance) one at Park, another at Vienna, a third at
Rome, a fourth at London, describe each an equilateral tri-
angle of the same dimensions, or in a thousand places besides ;
each one of these do only make one and the same numerical
triangle, because they have each the same attribute. But
how are the attributes of these several triangles the same ?
What ! the same numerically ? Then indeed they are all the
same numerical triangle ; for one and the same numerical es-
sence makes but one and the same numerical thing. But who
that is in his right wits would say so ? And if it be only said
they have all attributes of one and the same kind, what
then is consequent, but that they are all triangles of one kind ?
Which who in his right wits will deny ? And if the attribute
of a substance be that which constitutes its essence, the attri-
bute of any thing else is that which constitutes its essence. See
then how far Spinosa hath advanced with his demonstration
of the identity of substance ! If he prove not all substance to
be numerically the same, he hath done nothing to his purpose.
And it is now obvious to every eye how effectually he hath
done that.
Whence also it is further equally evident, that his demon*
stration dwindles into nothing ; and gives no support to his
sixth proposition, which contains the malignity of his whole
design, namely, " That one substance cannot be produced
by another substance," which rests (as you see) partly upon
the fifth, " That there cannot be two substances of the same
attribute," which in his sense is, as hath been shewn, most
absurdly false, and the attempt of proving it as absurd ; part-
ly upon his second, ll That two substances, of different attri-
butes, have nothing common between them," which might be
said of whatsoever else, as truly as of substances ; but which
is also most evidently untrue ; and partly, upon his third,
<£ That such things as have nothing common between them,
the one of them cannot be the cause of the other," which de-
pends upon two false suppositions, — " That there can be two
things, which have nothing common between them ;" which,
as hath been noted, contradicts itself, and needs not be further
stood upon. And-r- u That whatsoever things are cause and
276 THE LIVING TEMPLE, PART lit
effect, the one to the other, must be mutually understood by
one another," which we shall here more distinctly consider,
it being also his second demonstration of the corollary of this
his sixth proposition, (which nothing but a disposition to trifle,
or having- nothing to say, could have made him mention, as a
corollary from this proposition, it being in effect but a repeti-
tion of the same thing,) namely, u That if one substance can be
produced by another, (agent, or substance, which you please,)
the knowledge of it must depend upon the knowledge of its
cause, (by the fourth axiom, )and thereupon (by definition third)
it should not be a substance."
VI. We are here to examin this hi fourth axiom, ii That
the knowledge of an effect depends upon the knowledge of its
cause, and doth involve it." An effect may be considered two
ways ; absolutely, as it is in itself, or relatively, as it is the effect
of an efficient cause. It cannot, it is true, be understood to be the
effect of such an efficient, but the knowledge that this was its ef-
ficient, is involved therein ; for it is the same thing, and so much
maybe known, without knowing any thing of the nature of
either the efficient or effect. But this signifies nothing to his pur-
pose. He must therefore mean, that the knowledge of an effect
absolutely considered, and in its own nature, depends upon and
involves the knowledge of the nature of its efficient. Surely,
the nature of a thing may be competently known by its true
definition. But is the efficient cause, wont to be universally
put into definitions? He tells us himself (Scholium second upon
proposition eighth) u A true definition contains, or expresses,
nothing, besides the mere nature of the tiling defined." And
let any man that thinks it worth it, be at the pains to examine
his own definitions in the several parts of this ethico-geometri-
cal tract, and see whether he always puts the efficient cause
into every definition. And (no doubt) he thought himself to
define accurately. If all other men, who have so generally
reckoned the efficient and end, external causes, and only mat-
ter and form internal, and ingredient into the nature of things,
and therefore only fit to be put into definitions, were thought
by him mistaken and out in their reckoning, it was however
neither modest nor wise, to lay down for an axiom, a thing so
contrary to the common sentiment .of mankind ; and, without
the least attempt to prove it, go about to demonstrate by it, in
so portentous a cause ; and lay the whole weight of his horrid
cause upon it ; expecting all the world should be awed info an
assent, by the authority of his bare word ; and not presume
to, disbelieve or doubt it, only because he is pleased to stamp the
CHAP. I. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 277
magisterial name of an axiom upon it. Jf therefore any man
assume the boldness to deny his axiom, what is become of his
demonstration ? And whereas it is commonly apprehended,
that definitions are not of individual things, but of special
kinds, and is acknowledged by himself, {Prop. 21.) — " That
the essence of things produced by God, involves not existence,
and the production of a thing is nothing else but the putting
it into actual existence ;" why may not the abstract essmce,
or nature of things, be well enough conceived and defined,
without involving the conception of their productive cause ?
And this enough shews, also, That this definition of a sub-
stance proves not, that one substance cannot be produced by
another : namely, u That which can be conceived by itself,"
for so it may, without involving the conception of that which
produces it ; and so be a substance sufficiently according to
his definition. Though there can be no inconvenience in ad-
mitting, that things understood apart, by themselves, may
be afterwards further and more clearly understood, by con-
sidering- and comparing them in the habitudes and references
which they bear as causes and effects (or otherwise) to one
another.
VII. And now is his seventh proposition, " That it belongs
to the nature of substance to exist." Which is so great a pil-
lar, left itself without support > and being understood of sub-
stance as such, as his terms and design require it to be, it is
manifestly impious, communicating the most fundamental at-
tribute of the Deity, to all substance. And it is as little be-
friended by reason, as it be-friends religion ; for it rests upon
nothing but the foregoing baffled proposition : and this de-
finition, (5.) of that which is its own cause ; which is, « That
whose essence involves existence, or which cannot be con?
ceived otherwise than as existing ;" whereas, it is sufficiently
plain, we have a conception clear enough of the general na-
ture of a substance as such, abstracted from existence, or noiir
existence, conceiving it only to be such, as if it exist, doth
subsist in and by itself, that is, without having a subject to
support it; though it maybe such as to have needed a pro-
ductive, and continually to need a sustaining efficient cause.
Nor is there less clearness in this abstract conception of a sub-
stance, than there is in that of a modus, or accident, which
we may conceive in an equal abstraction, from actual existence,
or non-existence ; understanding it to be such, as ihat if it
exist, it doth inexisf, or exist only in another. And now is
our way sufficiently prepared to the consideration of his eighth.
27S THE LIVING TEMrLE. TAJIT If*
proposition ; u That all substance is necessarily infinite." And
liow is it demonstrated ? Why, by his fifth proposition, —
** That there can t>e but one substance, of one and the same at-
tribute,'" — which hath been sufficiently unravelled and exposed,
60 as not to be left capable of signifying any thing here, as the
reader "will see by looking back to what hath been said upon
it. And now it must quite sink; its next reliance failing if,
namely, the foregoing seventh proposition, — " That it belongs
to it, to exist necessarily." I grant the consequence to be
good, and reckon it a truth of great evidence and concern-
ment, " That whatsoever exists necessarily, is infinite." I
heartily congratulate Spinosa's acknowledgment of so very
clear and important an assertion ; and do hope, as in the fore-
going discourse I liaye made some, to make further good use
of it. But for what he assumes, that all " substance neces-
sarily exists ;" you see it rests upon nothing, and so conse-
quently doth what he would conclude from it, that all sub-
stance is infinite. And his further proof of it avails as little,
namely, that it cannot be finite ; because (by his second de-
finition^ if it be so, it must be limited by something of the same
nature, &c. Which would be absurd by proposition fifth, — i
*• That there cannot be two substances of the same attribute :"
for that there be two, of the same individual attribute, to bound
one another is unnecessary (as well as impossible) and absurd-
ly supposed for this purpose. For if there were two of the
same individual nature and attribute, they would not bound
one another, but run into one ; inasmuch as having but one
attribute, the}' should, according to him, have but one and
the same essence ; and so be mr>st entirely one, and that there
cannot be two, or many times two, of the same special or ge-
neral nature, is unproved ; and the contrary most evident, as
maybe seen, in what hath been said upon that fifth proposition,
No man needs wish an easier task, than it would be to shew
the falsehood or impcrtinency of his Scholia upon this pro-
position, and of his following discourse, to the purpose above
mentioned. But I reckon it unnecessary, his principal sup-
ports being (I will not say overthrown, but) discovered to be
none at all. I shall therefore follow his footsteps no fur-
ther, only take notice of some few things that have a more
direct aspect upon his main design, and make all the haste 1
can to take leave of him, that I may be at liberty to pursue
my own. What is in his first Scholium follows, he says, only
upon his seventh proposition, which itself follows upon no-
thing; and therefore, I further regar it not. His second
€HAP. I. THE L1VIWG TEMPLE. 279
Scholium would have his seventh proposition pass for a com-
mon notion ; and so it will, when he hath inspired all man-
kind with his sentiments. But why must it do so ? Because
substance is that which is in itself, and is conceived by itself?
.Now compare that with his tenth proposition, — " Every attri-
bute of substance ought to be conceived by itself." There the
definition of substance, is given to every attribute of snbstance ;
therefore, every attribute of substance is a substance, since
the definition of substance (def. 3.) to which he refers hs in
the demonstration of that proposition, agrees to it ; therefore,
so many attributes, so many substances. What can be plain-
er ? We have then his one substance multiplied into an in-
finite number of substances. By his sixth definition, we shall
see his own confession of this consequence, by and by.
And whereas in this Scholium he would make us believe,
that modifications, men may conceive as not existing, but
substances they cannot. Let the reason of this assigned dif-
ference be considered ; u That by substance tiiey must un-
derstand that which is in itself, and is conceived by itself, its
knowledge not needing the knowledge of another thing. But
by modifications they are to understand that which is in another,
and whose conception is formed by the conception of that
thing in which they are : wherefore, we can have true ideas
of not-existing modifications, inasmuch as though they may
not actually exist, otherwise than in the understanding, yet
their essence is so comprehended in another, that they may
be conceived by the same. But the truth of substances is not
otherwise without the understanding, than in themselves, be-
cause they are conceived by themselves, &c." Which reason
is evidently no reason. For with the same clearness, where-
with I conceive a substance, whensoever it exists, as existing
in itself; I conceive a modification, whensoever it exists, as exist-
ing in another. If therefore, any thing existing in another, be
as truly existing, as existing in itself, the existence of a sub-
stance is no more necessary, than the existence of a modifica-
tion. And if we can have true ideas of not-existing modifica-
tions, we may have as true, of not-existing substances :
especially since (according to him) we cannot conceive of sub-
stance, without conceiving in it some or other modification.
For he tells us, ** The essence of modifications is so compre-
hended in another, that they may be conceived by the same."
Now, what means he by the essence of modifications being
comprehended in another ? By that other, he must mean
substance : for modifications do modify substances ; or nothing ;
280 THE LIVING TEMPLE* PAItf ILj
and if the essences of modifications be contained in substances,
they must (according to him) be contained in the essence of
substances.
For there is, saith Iie^ nothing in nature, besides substance?
and their affections or modifications (demonstration of pro-
position fourth, and definition fifth). Therefore, since nothing
can be conceived in substance, antecedent to these modifica-
tions, besides its own naked essence, they must be contained
immediately, in the very essence of substance, or in substance
itself ; wherefore, if all substance be necessarily existent, they
must be necessarily inexistent. .And if the essence of sub-
stance contains the inexisting modi, the essence of the modi
doth equally contain their inexistence in substance. Where-
upon, by consequence also, the essence of these modifications,
doth as much involve existence (since no one can affirm, in-
existence to be existence) as the essence of substance doth,
in direct contradiction to proposition twenty-fourth, which ex-
pressly (and most truly) says, " The essence of things produced
by God 5 ' (which he, as untruly, intends of these modifications
alone) " do not involve existence."
And now for his not undo in this Scholium by which he would
conclude, that there is no other than this one infinite substance
in being, p. 31. It is true indeed, that the definition of a
thing (which we have before said is of specific natures, not of
individuals) expresses not any certain number of existing in*
dividuals (be it man, or triangle, or what else you please) nor
any at all. For surely the definition of man, or triangle,
would be the same, if every individual of each^ should be
abolished and cease. But that, if any do exist, some cause
must be assignable why they exist, and why so many only*
What is to be inferred from this ? That the reason being the
same, as to every substance whose essence involves not ex-
istence in it, (which that the essence of every substance doth,
or of substance as such, he hath not proved, nor ever can,)
when any such substance is found to exist, the cause of its
existence, not being in its own nature, must be external. And
therefore, so many only do exist, because a free agent, ablo
to produce them, (for the very substance of created beings itself,
owes not its production to a merely natural, undesigning, or to
any subordinate agent only,) was pleased to produce so many,
and no more. And so hath this unhappy author himself, with
great pains and sweat, reasoned out for us the very thing wc
assert.
JJut that it may bo further seen, how incurious a writer this
2
CHAP. Ii THE LIVING TEMPLP. 281
man of demonstration is, and how fatally, white he Is design-
ing the overthrow of religion, he overthrows his own design,
I shall not let pass what he says, in demonstrating his twelfth
proposition, — " That no attribute of substance can be truly
conceived, from which it may follow, tliat substance can be
divided." How he proves it by proposition eighth, and after by
the sixth, I shall not regard, until I see those propositions
better proved i But that which I at present remark, is his ar-
gument from proposition fifth, — " That if substance could be
divided, each part must consist of a different attribute; and
so of one substance many might be constituted." A fair con-
fession, that many attributes will constitute many substances.
And himself acknowledges many attributes of substance, (de-
finition sixth, and proposition eleventh.) And therefore, though
he here call this an absurdity, it is an absurdity which he hath in-
evitably now fastened upon himself, having here allowed, plain-
ly, the consequence (as was above promised to be shewn) that if
there be diversity of attributes, they will constitute a diversity of
substances, which it was before impossible to him to disallow ^
having defined an attribute (as was formerly noted) to be (def. 4.)
that which constitutes the essence of substance. Therefore, his
whole cause is here fairly given away ; for his one substance
is now scattered into many, and the pretended impossibility of
the creation of any substantial being, quite vanished into thin
and empty air. The many inconsistencies to be noted also in his
annexed letters, with several parts of his discourse, it is not my
business particularly to reflect on. It is enough, to my pur-
pose, to have shewn that he comes short of hu.
VIII. Upon the whole, little more seems needful for the re-
futation of this his horrid doctrine of the unity, self-existence,
and infinity of all substance, than only to oppose Spinosa to
Spinosa. Nor have I ever met with a discourse so equally in-
consistent with all principles of reason and religion, and
with itself. And so frequently doth he overthrow his own ill
design, in this very discourse, that it is altogether unnecessary
to insist on the inconsistencies of this, with his demonstrations
of Des Cartes's principles, written divers years before. Against
which, every one that hath compared, knows these his later
sentiments to import so manifest hostility, that I may well spare
that vain and useless labour, it being sufficient only to note the
more principal, in the margin. *
* As his asserting Cod to be a most simple being, and that his attri-
butes do only differ, ratione. Whereas now, he mal.es his attributes as
VOL, i. 2o
282 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART It.
His following propositions (and among them those most sur-
prising ones, the sixteenth and twenty-eighth) tend to evince
the onliness of substance, and the absolute necessity of all
actions ; but upon grounds so plainly already discovered to
be vain and false, that we need follow aim no further. Nor is
it necessary to disprove his hypothesis, or charge it with the
many absurdities that belong to it, they are so horrid and
notorious, that to any one who is not in love with absurdity for
itself, it will abundantly suffice to have shewn he hath not
proved it.
JX. I cannot but, in the mean time, take some notice of the
genius, which seems to have inspired both him, and his devo-
tees. A fraudulent pretence to religion, while they conspire
against it. Whereof many instances might be given ; as the
prefixing that text of holy Scripture to so impure a volume,
on the title page, I John 4. 13. a By this we know that we dwell
in God, and God dwelleth in us, because he hath given us of
his Spirit." That the preface to his posthumous works is
filled up with quotations out of the Bible ; which it is their
whole design to make signify nothing. The divine authority
whereof, an anonymous defender of his, in that part of his
work which he entitles, Specimen artis ratiocinandi, natura-
lis Sr artificialis ad pantosophiai principia 7nanuducens — A
specimen of the art of reasoning, natural and artificial, con-
ducting to the principles of all hinds of wisdom— undertakes to
demonstrate (because, as he says, all religion depends upon
the word of God) by an argument, which, he says, he can
glory, that after many years meditation, the divine grace fa-
vouring him, he hath found out, by which he tells us, (p.
24 J, &c.) he is able (to do what, that he knows, no man hath
ever done before him) to demonstrate naturally the truth of
the sacred Scripture, that is, That it is the word of God. An
argument, he says, able to convince the most pertinacious
Pagan, &c. And it is taken from the idea of God, compared
with that divine saying, Exod. 3. 14. " 1 am that lam."
Whereupon, what he says, will to any one who attentively
reads shew his design, namely, at once to expose religion, and
hide himself. And so doth his collusion sufficiently appear in
divers', as extension and thought, and says, they ought to be conceived a?
really distinct. Scholia in Proposition .tenth. There he asserts all things to
be created by God, here, nothing. There he makes corporeal substance
divisible; here, all substance indivisible, &c. And yet in this work
(vide Scholia in proposition nineteenth) refers us to the former, as if, whets
the one destroys the other, both were firm.
CHAP. T. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 2S3
making the soul philosophically mortal, and Christ ianly im-
mortal, p. 70, &c. But if the Philosopher perish for ever,
what will become of the Christian ?
This author also finds great fault with tire instances usually
given to exemplify the common definition of substance, That
?$, a being subsisting bj/ itself, or in itself, (Manudud, p.
11, 12.) because he thought them not agreeable enough to his
master Spinosa\s notion of the unity and identity of all sub-
stances, and consequently of the improducibility of any. And
he fancies them to contradict themselves, that while they call
the sun, the moon, the earth, this or that tree, or stone, sub-
stances, they yet admit them to be produced by another. For
how can it be, saith he, that they should be in, or by them-
selves, and yet depend on another, as on a subject, or as an
efficient cause ? He is very angry, and says they by it do but
crucify and mock their readers, only because it crosses and
disappoints his and his master's impious purpose of deifying
every substance. And therefore, to serve that purpose as he
fancies the belter, he would more aplly model all things and
reduce them to two distinct kinds only, namely, Of things
that may be conceived primarily and in themselves, without
involving the conception of another ; and again, of things that
we conceive not primarily and in themselves, but secondarily
and by another, whose conception is involved in their concep-
tion. But all the while, what is there in this, more than what is
common and acknowledged on all hands ? as the sense of the
trivial distich he takes the pains to recite,
Summus Aristoteles, &c.
But when all this is granted, what is he nearer his mark ?
Of that former sort, still some are from another ; and one
other only of and from itself. But then (says he) how are
those former conceived in and by themselves ? Well enough,
say I ■ for they are to be conceived, as tiiey are to be defined ;
but the definition of a thing is to express only its own nature
and essence (as Spinosa himself says Scholium second, in pro-
position eighth) considered apart by itself, into which (as
hath been said) the efficient cause, which is extrinsical to it,
enters not; and without considering whether it exist or exist
not. Because definitions are of special kinds, or common na-
tures, that exist not as such ; not of existing individuals, ex-
cept the one, only self-subsisting, original Being, of whose
essenco existence is ; which Spinosa himself acknowledges,
and makes his twentieth proposition ; as on the other hand
284 flfE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II*
that "The essence of things produced by God involves not ex-
istence" is his twenty-fourth.
X. But thai the substance of things, whose essence involves
existence, and whose essence involves it not, should be one
and t he same, exceeds all wonder ! One would think, so vast-
ly different essences of substance should at least make different
•substances ; and that when Spinosa hath told us so expressly,
that an " attribute of substance constitutes the essence of sub-?
stance • and that all the attributes of substance are distinctly
conceived ; the conception of the one, not involving the con-;
cepfion of another;" and so do most really differ from
each oth r, and make so many essences therefore, of sub-
stance really distinct, (though he once thought otherwise of
the divine attributes, that they did only differ from each other
ratione, and that God was a most simple Being, which he also
takes pains to prove, K. D. Cartes. Princip. Philos. Append,
part. 2d. Cap. 5. p. 117, 118.) one would surely hereupon
think, that so vastly different attributes, as necessary existence,
and contingent, should constitute the most different substances
imaginable. For what is an attribute ? Id quod intellectus de
substantia percipit, tanquam ejus essentiam constituens — That
which the understanding perceives concerning' a substance as
constituting its essence. (Jlefinition fourth.) Noav the essence
of some substance the understanding most clearly perceives
as involving existence in it. Existence therefore constitutes
the essence of such substance, and is therefore an attribute
of it. Some other essence it as clearly perceives, that in-
volves not existence. Now this sort of essence is the attribute
of somewhat. And of what is it the attribute ? Why, he hath
told us, "An attribute is what the understanding perceives of
substance as constituting its essence ;" therefore, some sub-
stance hath such an essence as involves not existence.
Now let it hereupon be considered (albeit that I affect not to
give high titles to any reasonings of mine) whether this amount
not to a demonstration against the hypothesis of Spinosa, and
the rest of his way, that all substance is self-existent; and
that, even upon their own principles and concessions, so fre-
quently acknowledging the world to be produced, and not self-.
existent, that even the substance of it is produced also ; which
they deny, namely, (Manudiict. p. 107.) That whose essence
this unnamed author says, includes not existence, either hath
some substance belonging! io its essence, or it hath not. If
not, it may exist without substance; and then unto what is it
an attribute, or what iloih it modify ? If yea, there is then
2
CHAP. I. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 2Sf»
some substance, and particularly that of this world, in whose
essence, existence is not included ; and that by consequence,
the substance of this world is produced. But if any make a
difficulty of it to understand, how all being and perfection
should be included in tlie Divine Being, and not be very God ;
so much is already said to this in the former Part of this dis-
course, (namely, Chap. 4. Sect. Ill, &c.) that as I shall not
here repeat what hath been said, so 1 think it unnecessary to
say more.
And it is what Spinosa himself had once such sobriety of
mind as to apprehend, when(Prineip. R. D, Cart. Philosoph.
moreGeometr. demonstrat. Append, Part 1. Cap. §.) he says
thus of God, or of increate substance, that God doth emi-
nently contain that which is found formally in created things,
that is, God hath that in his own nature, in which all created
things are contained in a more eminent manner ; and that there
is some attribute in God, wherein all the perfections, even of
matter, are after a more excellent manner themselves contain-
ed. Having before told us, (Princip. Part 1. Axiom. 8.) That
by eminently, he understood when a cause did contain all the
reality of its effect more perfectly, than the effect itself; by
formally, when it contained it in equal perfection. And so he
might have told himself of somewhat sufficiently common
(though not uni vocally) to the substance of the Divine Nature,
and that of creatures ; whereon to found the causality of the
former, in reference to the latter, as effected thereby. But
as he grew older, his understanding either became less clear ?
pr Avas more perverted by ill design.
CHAP. II,
J, Animadversions upon a French writer, nameless. If. His pretence to
confute Spinosa: and the opinion of the world's being made of inde-
pendent self-existing matter; chosen by him and asserted against two
other opinions. III. The opinion of matters being created out of no-
thing, and charged (falsely) by him with novelty. IV. Moses, and the
author to the Hebrews misalleged, vindicated. V. Self-originate, in-
dependent matter disproved : asserted by this author with evident self-
contradiction; and without necessity.
J. 13 UT having here done with him and that sort of men, I
Jt) shall now briefly consider the forementioned author's
THE LIVING TEMPLE. TART Ho
way of confuting him. The conceit, that there must be such
a thing as necessary self- subsisting matter, hath I confess
seemed to be favoured by some or other name among the Eth-
nics of that value, as to have given some countenance to a bet-
ter cause ; besides some others, who wi'h greater incongruity,
and more injury to it, have professed the Christian name. It
Lath been of late espoused, and asserted more expressly, by
this French gentleman, who hath not thought fit to dignify it
with his name, doubting perhaps whether the acquainting
the world with it, might not more discredit his cause, than his
cause (in this part of it) could better the reputation of his
name. However it be, though my inquiry and credible irw
formation hath not left me ignorant, I shall not give him oc-
casion to think himself uncivilly treated, by divulging what;
he seem6 willing should be a secret. For though it was not
intrusted to me as such, I shall be loath to disoblige him by
that, whereby that I know 1 can oblige nobody else. It is
enough that his book may be known by its title, Ij ' Impie con-
xuincu. It is professedly written against the atheism of Spino-
sa. And when I first looked into it, I could not refrain think-
ing of Plato'* repartee to Diogenes, when the latter undertook
to reprehend the other's pride, that he did it with greater pride.
Although I think not the application is- to be made in the
strictest terms. For I will neither be so indulgent to Spinosa,
as to reckon that any man's atheism can be greater than his ;
nor so severe to this his adversary, as positively to conclude
he designed the service of any atheism at all. IJut I think
him at least, unwarily and without any necessity, to have
quitted one of the principal supports of the doctrine of a Deity ;
and that he hath undertaken the confutation of atheism, upon a
ground that leads to atheism.
11. He thinks, it seems, Spinosa not otherwise confutable,
than upon the hypothesis of eternal, independent matter,
which he thus explains in his preface, it being the second
of the three distinct hypotheses whereof he there gives an ac-
count.
The second,* he says, is theirs who assert two beings or
two substances increate, eternal, independent, as to their sim-<
pie existence, though very differently ; the former whereof is
God, the infinitely perfect Being, Almighty, the Principle of
all perfection ; and the second, matter, a being essentially im-
perfect, without power, without life, without knowledge ; but
* La seconde est celle de ceux qui, &c. Avertissement.
CHAP. ft. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 287
capable nevertheless of all these perfections, by impression
from God, and his operations upon it. This he, pretends to
have been the hypothesis of the ancient philosophers and di-
vines (after he had acknowledged the former hypothesis—
*' That the world, and the matter of it, were drawn out of
nothing by the infinite power of the first and supreme Being,
which itself alone was eternal and independent," — was the hy-
pothesis of the greater part of Christian divines, and philoso-
phers.) And this second, he says, is the hypothesis which
lie shall follow, rejecting th6 first, but now mentioned ; and in
opposition to the third, which makes the world and its produc-
tion to be nothing else than an emanation of the Divine Sub-
stance, whereby a part of itself is formed into a world. And
this, he says, was the opinion of the ancient Gnostics and
Priscillianists, and is for the most part of the Cabbalists, of the
new Adamiles or the illuminated, and of an infinite number of
Asiatic and Indian philosophers.
III. To qualify the ill savour of that second opinion which
he follows, he would have us believe it to be the more creditable,
than the (rejected) first, which he says is a new tiling in the world,
and that it was not born until some ages after Christ; which is
gratis dictiun — spoken without proof. And whereas he tells us,
he takes notice, that Tertullian was the first that maintained it
against a Christian philosopher, who defended the eternal
existence of matter : he had only reason to take notice, That
the philosopher he mentions, was the first, that calling him-
self a Christian, had the confidence to assert an opinion so re-
pugnant to Christianity and to "all religion, and who there-
fore first gave so considerable an occasion to one who was a
Christian indeed, to confute it. Nor was Hermogenes a much
more creditable name with the orthodox, ancient Christians,
than those wherewith he graces the third opinion, besides the
other ill company which might be assigned it, if that were a
convictive way of fighting, by names.
IV. And for what he adds. That Moses was, he dares say, of
his opinion; because he only gives such an account of the
creation, as that it was made of an unformed pre-existent mat-
ter : and the apostle Paul to the Hebrews, saying, God drew
these visible things out of those that were not visible. He
shews indeed, more daringncss than solid judgment, in ven-
turing to say the one or the other upon so slender ground. As
if every thing were false, which Moses and Paul did not s;iy.
But it appears rather from his way of quoting, (who, it is like.
288 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART Ui
did not much concern himself to turn over the leaves of th£
Bible, that he might be sure to quote right,) that God did
create that unformed matter, as he calls it. For it is expressly
said, God created heaven, and earth, and that this earth (not
matter) was without form, and void. Gem 1. 1, 2. And if this
unformed earth and matter be, as with him It seems, all one,
then the unformed matter is said to have been created. For God
is said to have created that unformed earth ; which must indeed
exist unformed.} previously to its being brought into form ; but
not prior to all creation. And the same thing must be understood
of the unformed heaven too, though Moses's design was to give
us a more distinct account of what was nearer us, and wherein
we were more concerned. And indeed, it seems most agreeable
to the letter of the text$ and to the following history, so to un-*
derstand those words ; " In the beginning God created heaven
and earth, " namely ^ That in the beginning, he created that,
which afterwards became heaven and earth, that is, unform*
ed matter. For heaven and earth as now they are, or as they
were in their formed stat.e$ were not created in a moment, in
the very beginning ; but in several successive days, as the fol»
lowing history shewSi And so much Tertullian aptly enough
intimates to that Pseudo-christian Hermogenes, Terrte nomeii
redigit in materiam.) &c- — The name of earth he reduces into
matter, Sfbi Nor is Hob. Ih 3. capable of being tortured into
any sense more favourable to his gross fancy, which (as the
Greek tvxt y if any will consult it$ shews) doth not sayj The
tilings that are seen were made of tilings not appearing, but
were not made of things appearing. As to what he adds .touch-
ing the word creer, &c. I let it pass, not liking to contend
about words often promiscuously used.
V". But shall apply myself to the consideration of the thing
in question, and shew how inconsistently this author asserts
independent matter, both with the truth and with himself;
and also how unnecessarily he doth it, and that the defence of
the common cause against Spinosa, did no way oblige him to it.
First, How inconsistently he asserts it, 1. With the truth o£
the thing ; for,
(1.) Whatsoever exists independently and necessarily, is
infinite. And herein I must do Spinosa that right, as to ac-<
knowledge he hath, in asserting it, done right to truth ; though
the grounds upon which he asserts it, are most perniciously
false. But I conceive it is capable of being clearly proved
(and hath been proved, Part 1st.) otherwise, namely, that ne-
CHAP. IT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 289
cessary, self-originate Being, is the root and fountain of all
bring, whether actual or possible ; since there is nothing* ac-
tually brought in to being, which is not actually from it, and no-
thing possible, but whose possibility depends upon it. And
that which virtually comprehends all being, actual and pos-
sible, cannot but be infinite. For without the compass of such
all-comprehending Being, there is nothing to bound it. And
what is bounded by nothing, is unbounded or infinite. Where-
upon also, matter plainly appears not to be of itself. For if it
Mere, for the same reason it must be infinite and all-compre-
hending. But nothing were more apparently contradictious
and sell-repugnant, than the assertion of two all-comprehend-
ing beings ; and if there be but one, that matter is not that one.
But that it must be a necessary, self-originate, intelligent
Being, which is the root of all being, 1 conceive already suf-
ficiently proved in (he former part of this discourse. Wherein
it is also shewn, that finite created beings, arising from that
infinite self-originate one, limit it not, nor do detract any thing
from iiii infinity, but concur to evidence its infinity rather ;
inasmuch as they could never have been, had they not been before
contained within the productive power of that iucreate self-ori-
ginate being. It is, by the way, to be noted that the notion of
infinity we now intend, doth not merely import unconfinedness
to this or that certain space, (though it include that too,) for
that, alone, were a very maimed, defective notion of infinite-
ness. But we understand by it the absolute all-comprehending
profundity and plenitude of essence and perfection. Where-
upon, it signifies nothing to the preserving entire the infinity
of the self-originate, intelligent Being, only to suppose it such,
as that it can permeate all the space that can be taken up by
another (supposed) self-originate being. For still, since its
essence were of itself, it were not virtually contained in the
other. Which therefore would evince that other not to be in
the true sense infinite. Whereupon we
(2.) Prove the impossibility of independent, self-originate
matter, from the known, agreed notion of God, namely.
That he is a Being absolutely perfect, or comprehensive of all
perfection. Even they that deny his existence, confess (though
to the contradiction of themselves) this to be the notion of the
thing they deny. Now, though this assertor of independent
matter acknowledges it a being essentially imperfect, he can
only mean by that, less perfect ; not that it hath, simply, no
perfection at, all. It is idle trifling, to brangle about words.
Perfection hath been wont to go for ah attribute of being. He
vol. i. 2 i*
THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
calls it a being ; it must therefore have some perfection, some
goodness, be of some value. Is it not better than nothing; ?
Then, that perfection must be eminently contained in God ;
otherwise, how is he a Being comprehensive of all perfection ?
The imperfections of mailer belong not to him ; nor of any
thing else. For imperfection is nothing : nor do the perfec-
tions of any creature belong to him formally, or in the same
Special kind, but eminently, and in a higher and more noble
kind. And so, to have, all being and perfection, either for his
own, or within his productive power, cannot, without contra-
diction, be denied of him, who is confessed to be God. And
again, to be able to create, is surely a perfection. Omnipo-
tency, more a perfection than partial iinpotency. Where-
fore to assert matter could not be created by God, is to assert
an impotent, imperfect God. Or (since God can be conceived
under no other notion than of a Being absolutely perfect) to
assert none at all.
(').) This supposition not only denies to God all perfection,
but it ascribes to matter, which he himself confesses the meanest
sort of being, (as shortly it will be fitter to take further notice,)
the high excellency of self-subsistence, the first and most fun-
damental of all divine perfections.
(4.) If matter be, as such, an independent, self-originate
thing, then every part or particle of matter must be so. And
then, let such matter be supposed to fill up infinite space, we
shall have an infinite number of independent entities, co-exist-
ing for ever ; for a finite number cannot replenish infinite
space : or let it be supposed (more agreeably to the pretended
sentiments of this author) confined within the limits of the
formed universe ; and how unreasonably is such a thing as
independent matter, supposed to be of itself, limited to one
spot of immense space ! For let the universe be supposed
finite, though ever so vast, it must yet be conceived but as a
minute spot, to the infinite unbounded vacuity that lies with-
out it; and which yet he seems to acknowledge replenished
with the Divine Being. Now let a man set himself to consider,
and try how easy it will be to his thoughts to conceive one
little portion of boundless space, taken up with a mean being,
next to nothing, that is of itself there, and cannot but be
there, and nowhere else, imposed upon the infinitely perfect
Being ; the all-wise and almighty God, who fills up all space
unavoidably and from all eternity, so that he could not, if
he thought it a cumber, disencumber or rid himself of it ; and
rather seemed of necessity, than of choice, to have made a
,.Jf AP. II. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 291
world of it, as not knowing else what to do with it ; with which
imagination also the youth of the world so ill agrees, for why
then was it so lately made ?
(5.) But it further seems very evident, and more fully evi-
dential of the absurdity of this conceit, that if there were such
matter, the world could never have been made of it. For
how great alterations must such rude, undigested, unformed
matter have undergone, in forming of such a world as this ?
But what greater inconsistency can we imagine, than that
what exists necessarily, or of itself, should be alterable ?
What is of itself what it is, must be eternally and without
change what it is. So absurd, as well as profane, it will be
to ascribe to dull and senseless matter, or to any thing else, so
peculiar and appropriate an attribute and name as that of
the Deity, 7 am that I am. For, hereupon, such matter were
not only supposed vainly and to no purpose, being never
possible to be the matter of the world, but destructively,
and against the very purpose that should be served by it.
For such matter being supposed to occupy the space of the
formed world, must exclude thence any other matter of which
it could be formed ; and make it, consequently, impossible
there should ever have been any such world as this, where the
supposition itself makes it be. This see discoursed more at
large, Part 1. Ch. 2.
(6.) And whereas his great reason for such self-originate, in-
dependent matter, namely, the imagined impossibility of crea-
tion, or that any thing can be produced out of nothing, (which
so far as is needful, we partly have, and further shall con- .
sider, in its proper place,) doth as much oppose the creation
of any spiritual being, as material. If all that hath been said
in the former Part of this discourse, and by many authors be-
sides, do sufficiently prove there are such spiritual or imma-
terial beings that are created, or are not of themselves ; and
that, of the property of thought, which is found belonging to
them, matter is not capable, (which I shall think to have been
done until I see the contrary evinced,) we must judge him
very absurdly to have asserted such self-originate, indepen-
dent matter. And as lie hath asserted it very inconsistently
with the truth of the thing ; so
2. It will appear he hath done it as little consistently with
himself. For
(1.) He acknowledges God to be Uelre infniment par-
fait, tout puissant, 8c h principe de toute perfection — a
Being- infinitely perfect, almighty, and the principle of all
292 THE LIVING TEMPLE. TART I».
perfection. Now how is he infinitely perfect, if his being
include not all perfection ? How is he almighty, if he cannot
create ? How is he the fountain or principle of all perfec-
tion, if the perfection of matter (which, as hath been said,
though he make it essentially imperfect, must have some per-
fection belonging to it, since it is not mere nothing) be not
eminently comprehended in his being ?
Besides that here acknowledging God to be omnipotent*
and having denied the necessary, eternal, independent mat-
ter, which he imagines to be infinite, but limited .and con-
fined to the created universe only ; I would hereupon demand
of him, Cannot the blessed God, if he please, create many
worlds ? If he say, No, then how is he omnipotent? — If Yea,
of what matter must they be made ? Not of his (imagined)
necessary, independent matter, for of that really none could:
but according to him the present universe is made : it is al-
ready taken up, and pre-engaged therein, and it is limited
thereto. Therefore the matter is yet to be created, of which
the other worlds are to be made ; and it can be so, otherwise
no more worlds can be made : and thereupon the great God is,
not without blasphemy, said to have gone to the utmost of his
power, to have done in this kind all that he can. And this
must be said, by this author, in express contradiction to the
truth of the thing, to the most common and agreed idea or
notion of the Divine Being; and now, most apparently, to
himself. And therefore his high rant against Spinosa, p. 47,
48, (in this point more orthodox than himself,) That he con-
founds in his philosophy being and perfection, Pretendant
que, ce qui est, ft tie ten ferine aucune negation d'etre, est line
perfection, S$c. — Pretending that whatsoever is, and includes
not in its notion any negation of being, is a perfection, 8?c. is
vain, and as much without cause, as what he afterwards says
about it is without sense. For he adds, That for his part he finds
nothing more false or extravagant ; and why so ? Because
then pain and sorrow must be reckoned among perfections,
and such real perfections as are worthy of God, or a Being
infinitely perfect. And upon this, he triumphs over such
men, as supplanters of the Deity, instead of defenders of so
great a Being, and as having lost their senses and their reason,
&c. But if he had not lost his own, and abandoned himself to
that fury and rage of insolence which he there imputes to his
opposers, he might have been capable of so much calm and
sober consideration, as to have bethought himself, that among
creatures, a sense of pain, real grief and sorrow, correspond-
2
THAP. II. TIIF. LIVING TEMPLE. 293
ent to their present, true causes, import more perfection, than
stupidity, insensibleness, and apathy ; and if so, though
pain and grief cannot formally agree to the most perfect be-
ing of God, to -whom their causes cannot agree, that the life
and pcrcipiency do eminently agree to him, by which he can
apprehend an injury, though not a real hurt, (which he can
therefore only not apprehend, not because the perceptive
principle is wanting, but the object.) and by the power of im-
parting whereof, he is able to make a creature capable of pain
and grief, where the objects shall (as they may deservedly)
occur, and meet the perceptive principle ; and that the power
of making such a creature, is a greater perfection than an
impotency of doing it. Which perfection, therefore, he could
not, consistently with himself, deny to God, having acknow-
ledged him a Being infinitely perfect, or comprehensive of all
perfection.
(2.) Nor doth he assert necessary increate matter, consistent-
ly with his own reasonings for the possibility of a vacuum,
(p. 110.) where he takes it for granted, that God can anean-
ttr une petite partie de la matiere, 8pc. -^-annihilate some small
particle of matter, one stone, for example, or one grain of
sand. Which how ridiculously is it supposed, by one who
supposes such matter necessarily self-existent ! For who sees
not that necessity of existence, and impossibility of non-exist-
ence, do infer one another, or signify rather the same thing.
Therefore, no man, except Spinosa, could be at once more
daring and more unhappy than this author. And as it hath
thus appeared, that he hath asserted such self-originate, inde-
pendent matter, very inconsistently both with the truth of the
thing and with himself; so,
Secondly, It will also appear he hath done it very unneces-
sarily ; and particularly, without that necessity Avhich he pre-
tends of answering Spinosa. For there is no necessity of it so
much as pretended, upon any account besides that of the
common maxim, that nothing can come out of nothing ; the
sense whereof must first be inquired before it can be under-
stood, how far it will serve his purpose, or infer the necessity
of independent matter. The sense of it must either be this —
That a being could never arise out of no-being, of itself, with-
out a pre-existeht, creative cause ; which is most evidently
true, but as evidently not to his purpose : or this — That what
once was not, could never be produced into being by a pre-
existent, omnipotent Cause : which were to his purpose, but
294: THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
is evidently, and by apparent self-contradiction, untrue.* And
what can make it have so much as the least semblance of
truth ? Either the authority of the maxim, or some plausible
reason. For its authority : though (hat •which he claims to it
of the ancient philosophers were little considerable, if ever
so truly claimed, we have no ground to think it otherwise
claimed than most untruly. Its authority, as he represents
it, depends upon a worse authority. lie is so modest as to
expect it to be believed, upon his bare word, that this was
the opinion of all the ancient philosophers before Christ's
time; while yet he thinks not fit to tell us his name. But if
their reasonings from it be considered, that generations are
out of matter, and corruptions are into matter, we have
no cause to apprehend they understood it otherwise than
that natural agents did neither create nor annihilate any
thing. Besides that, there is positive ground enough to con-
clude, that the more instructed and wiser Pagans, long before
Christ's time, did believe all things to have sprang from one
intelligent, self-subsisting original, matter itself not being
excepted. As, with the Egyptians, the inscription of the tem-
ple at Sais shews, " I am all that is, or was, or shall be, &c."
and with the Grecians, their worshipping God, under the
name of .Prt/z ; which could mean no other thing, than that
they thought the Deity to comprehend eminently or virtually
all being besides, in its creative or productive power. And
we have reason to think that Pagan philosophers since Christ,
such asHierocles, Jambliehus, Porphyry, Plotinus, &c. who
(as others have observed) were manifestly of this sentiment,
understood the minds of the more ancient philosophers as well
as this French gentleman ; nor do they pretend to contradict
them herein.
And for the reason of the thing itself, he hath not the least
appearance of any on his part, but that, because the finite power
of a creature cannot bring a thing out of nothing, therefore
omnipotency cannot; which is so far from concluding for
him, that (as hath been intimated) it manifestly contradicts
itself, and concludes the contrary. For how is that omnipo-
tency, which cannot do every thing that implies not a contra-
diction ? And how is that a contradiction, that what once was
not, should afterwards come to be ? there being no objective
impossibility or intrinsic repugnancy in the thing itself to exist,
* Of this see at lar^e Dr. Cudworth's Intellectual System.
CHAP. II. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 295
but that it were truly ens possibile — a possible agent /(and we
are out of doubt concerning matter for instance, or whatsoever
else we are sure doth exist, that it could exist ;) and supposing
also that there be a sufficient, causative power, to make it exist,
or produce it into being : and what cause can be more suf-
ficient than an omnipotent one, such as our author confesses
God to be? Nor doth he deny that there are intelligent spirits,
that were not of themselves; only he would have us think
them but finer matter, impressed with intellectual power. But
what akin is a mind to matter, except his own ? .And suppos-
ing a mind or intellect be stamped upon matter, it is then
but added to it, not drawn out of it, as if matter had before
contained it. And even thus, since mind or intellect is not
nothing, (unless he will say himself differs by nothing from
unthinking clay,) we have something out of nothing. And who
can think it more impossible to Oinnipotency, to create matter,
than a mind ?
But if he reckon thought, or intellect, is contained in mat-
ter, or included in tlie notion of it, then matter, as such, must
be intelligent, and consequently all matter ; and this will be
absurdity enough, to give him as good a title to the privilege
of not being reasoned against, as, from his magisterial way of
writing, we may count Spinosa thought himself to have. Nor
indeed will it leave any man so much as a conjecture at the
reason why he should pretend to differ from him. For who
can imagine, why his matter, endued with the attributes of ex-
tension and thought, might not do as well as Spinosa's sub-
stance ?
Or if he think matter, as such, to have only seminal reason
or intellect in it. antecedently to his supposed divine impress
upon it, how will that agree with his v making it esseyitiellement
imparfait — essrn/iaf/j/ imperfecta (Preface.) Or what means
his added capable neanmoins, its being nevertheless capable
of all such perfections by the impression of God upon it ?
Is that capacity something, or nothing ? Or what sense is it to
make it capable of having those perfections, which it is essential
to it not to have ?
And surely, as he will attribute to matter more perfec-
tion than he intended, so he will attribute less to God. For
he will, at. this rate, attribute no more to him, than hath been
generally ascribed to ordinary natural agents ; that is, to pro-
duce into actual being, out of matter, that whereto there was
in it some seminal disposition before.
296 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART Ift
And here, indeed, is the source of his error, his reducing
infinite power to the measures of finite ; an insolent presuming
to circumscribe Omnipotency, and making that simply im-
possible even to Almightincss itself, which is only so to created,
agents. And to this purpose, I find some reasonings in
Sextus Empiricus, who tells us how the sceptics attempt to
prove (besides their disputing against the other three sorts of
causation) that ao-u^xlov — an incorporeal thing, cannot be «/]«»
ci^x^. — the cause of any thing corporeal ; arguing (and slight-
ly enough) from the common methods of subordinate agents,
to the operations of the supreme Cause. Nor is it appre-
hensible, how one can find a medium : or while they make
matter independent, how not to make God dependent.-
And when the author Ave are concerned with took a
friendly notice of Hermogenes' consent with him upon this
subject, he might as well have been at the pains to consider
somewhat of what Tertullian wrote against him, that hereby,
in some respect, God is made inferior and subject to )n otter,
when loithont it he could not have made a world. JSJateria
suptrior invenitur, quce illi eopiam operandi subministraxit,
<!y Dcus subject us material videtur, cujus substantia; eguit ;
nemo non subjicilur ei cujus eget, 6,-c. — Ever// one is subject to
what he stands in need of. Terlull. contra Hermog.
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 297
CHAP. III.
I. The reason of what next follows- II. Directions to readers not wont
to inquire into the grounds of their religion. III. A summary and
plainer proposal unto such, of what hath heen said in the former Part,
concerning God's existence and conversableness with men. IV. The
reasonableness (so much being already evinced) of alleging, and re-
lying upon the testimony of the holy Scriptures: First, The express-
ness of that testimony concerning the unity of the Godhead, the
trinity therein. Secondly, The absolute perfection of the Divine Na-
ture. Thirdly, The infiniteness of God's knowledge, power, good-
ness, and presence. Fourthly, His propensions towards men, and apt-
ness (supposing there were no obstruction) to human converse : mat-
ters of doubt herein resolved.
I. AND having thus far established and vindicated so prin-
Jt\_ cipal a ground-work in this important cause, — That
"what is necessarily, or of itself, is an absolutely perfect Being,
distinct from all things else ; and a proper Object of religion,
or whereto a temple, and all the worship thereof, duly belong
— I shall now only sutler myself to be a little further diverted
from my intended course, apprehending that their case is
also to be considered, who have beea less accustomed to this
course, of reasoning out to themselves the principles of their
religion : unto whom therefore what hath been hitherto at-
tempted may seem, if not obscure in its parts, yet so tire-
some in the whole, as not to meet with patience enough to
trace the design that hath been driven on, to its issue and
period ; it being very incident to unexercised and less-at-
tentive readers, to lose their thread, and forget the scope of a
discourse, and so still have the truth to seek even in the midst
of it. And if what hath been hitherto said, prove unsatisfy-
ing to any, that justice must be done to the cause itself and
to them, as to avow that it must rather proceed either from
this infirmity in the reader, or from the unskilfulness of the
writer to propound things happily and to advantage ; than
either from the inevidence of the things themselves, or from
want of capacity, even in an ordinary understanding. Nor doth
any undertaking seem more feasible, or less to be despaired
vol. i. , °q
298 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
of, than plainly and salisfyingly to evince, to an unprejudiced
understanding that shall attend, these first foundations of re-
ligion and a temple, namely, That God is ; and — That he
is conversable with men, or is such as is capable and apt to
receive worship from them, and impart blessedness to them.
We shall therefore so far interrupt the current of this discourse,
as to endeavour this, by giving a brief and plain sum of the
more principal things that have been said to this purpose al-
ready.
II. But to prepare for it, must desire you that have not been,
as yet, v/ont to employ your minds this way, to observe the fol-
lowing directions.
First 3 That you would not give place to discouragement,
nor think too meanly of Ihe understanding whereby God hath
distinguished you from the. inferior creatures. There is that,
mind and spirit in man, which doth compass many things of
far greater difficulty than it is here to be employed about;
though it can be exercised about nothing of so great conse-
quence. That apprehensive poAver that can take in the or-
derly frame of such notions as are requisite to the exact skill of
numbering or of measuring things, of navigation, of trade,
of managing the common affairs of human life ; that can lay
down to itself such prudent maxims and rules whereby the
inconveniencies may in great part be avoided which are in-
cident to common conversation, and the advantages gained
which may serve one's own private and secular interests ;
that understanding which can do all this, would far more easily
comprehend as much as is needful to the certain knowledge
of God's existence, and that he is such as we ought to worship,
and may enjoy, if it apply itself hereto. Do not so despair as
not to make an attempt; you know not the strength of your
own mind until you have tried it.
Secondly, That you indulge not, or do not suffer yourselves
to be insensibly seized by a mean and sordid sloth. Set your
thoughts awork with vigorous diligence. Give not out before
you have well begun. Resolve, since you have a thinking
power about you, you will use it to this most necessary pur-
pose ; and hold your thoughts to it. See that your mizids do
not presently tire and flag ; that you be rationally peremptory,
and soberly obstinate, in this pursuit : yield not to be diverted.
Disdain, having minds that can reach up to the great Original
and Author of all things, that they should be confined to this
dirty earth, or only to things low and mean.
Thirdly, Look on things that are ratioually evident to your
CJTAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 299
understandings, as equally certain with what you see with
your eyes. Are you not as sure that two and two make four
(which judgment is the act of your mind) as that this thing
which you look upon is black or white, or of this or that shape or
figure ? Do not so debase your own understandings, as to
think nothing certain that comes under their judgment. It is
true, they are apt enough to be deceived in many things, and
so us your sense too ; but if your sense could make you cer-
tain of nothing, what would become of justice and govern-
ment among men ? Who could take an oath before a magis-
trate ? What would become of the common actions and affairs
of life ? How could you eat or drink, or buy or sell, if you
could not certainly distinguish one thing from another ? Some
things are so plain as that you can be in no doubt about them,
as that this is bread, not a stone ; that a horse, not a sheep ;
otherwise all the world must stand still, and all commerce and
action cease. And if there were not some things sure to your
minds, that you may certainly say, in some plain cases at
least, this is true and that false, this right and that wrong, you
would beat as great a loss. Otherwise, you might be apt to
think a part of a thing greater than the whole, or that the
same man might be at London and at Kome at the same time ;
and you might be as ready to kill your own father astodohiin
reverence, or to commit robbery upon jour rich neighbour as
relieve the poor, and judge the one as good an action as the
other.
Fourthly, As any particular thing is offered to you, for
the purpose we are here aiming at, consider it well by itself,
before you go further ; and think thus, Is this plain and cer-
tain, yea or no ? If at the first sight you think it not so, ob-
serve diligently what is brought for the proof of it, and seo
whether now it be not manifestly certain ; and when you once
find it is, fix it in your mind as a certainty ; say, Thus far I
am sure. Let not your thoughts run back to this as a doubt-
ful thing any more, or unravel their own work ; but make use
of it as a certainty, to your further purpose.
III. Being thus prepared, take this brief account of what
hath before been discoursed more at large.
First, As to this first and great principle, — That there is a
God. Be but patient of being led by the hand a few easy steps
in a way that is in some part sufficiently beaten, or at least that
is sufficiently plain, and it is to be hoped you will soon see
that matter put out of all doubt. Let this then be your first
step;
300 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II,
1. That somewhat or other there is, that hath been from
all eternity necessarily and of itself, without dependence upon
any thing- else. If this be not at the first view evident to you,
or if it seem too large a step, we will divide it into parts ;
and consider well what is said for the proof of it, by these de-
grees.
(1.) Somewhat or other must ever have been: for other-
wise, how could any thing come to be at all ? Do you think
it was possible, if ever there was nothing at all in being, of one
sort or other, that any thing should have come into being ?
No surely, for which way should it be ? It could not be made
by another, there being no other to make it ; and it could not
make itself, itself being as yet nothing. But sure you can
easily apprehend, that to make a thing be, is to do something ;
and as easily, that what is nothing, can do nothing. There-
fore, when your own eyes tell you that something now is,
you may be as sure, as of what you see with your eyes, that
somewhat or oilier hath ever been. Say with yourself, Some-
what now is, therefore somezchat hath exer been. If you dis-
cern not the clearness of this consequence, take the opposite to
it: Nothing now is, therefore nothing zcill ever be; it is as
broad as long.
(2.) You may next proceed thus, that something or other
hath been of itself ; that is, without depending upon any
thing else, or being beholden to any other thing for its being.
Now here pause a while, and consider what is said to make
this plain to you. Either you must acknowledge something
hath ever been of itself, or you must say that all things that
are, or ever have been, were from another, without any ex-
ception. But mark now, if you say that all things that .arc,
or ever have been, without excepting any, were from another,
you contradict yourself ; for besides all things that are, or
ever have been, without excepting any, there is not another
from whom they could be. Therefore it is impossible that all
things without exception should have been from another ;
whence then it is plain that something must have been of
itself, without depending for its being upon any thing else :
for it will come to the same contradiction, if you say all things
depend upon some other ; since there is nothing beyond all
things : therefore, to say that all things depend, is to say they
depend on nothing, that is, they do not depend. And to say
they have all depended on one another for their being, or made
one another, is altogether as absurd ; for it will make the Avholc
compass or circle of all being to depend upon nothing, or come
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 301
at length to litis, that some one made itself, or even {which is
more gross) made its own maker ; unless you will rest in some
one that made all the other, and was itself not made by any of
them. If you do not apprehend this yourself, desire anyone
that hath a belter understanding to explain it to you, and
you will soon seethe matter intended by it to be as evident as
your heart can wish. And so this will be out of question with
you — That somewhat was of itself ; which added to what was
proved before, comes to this — That somewhat was ever of
itself. And both these thus conjoined, plainly appear from
what hath been said. For we have seen that nothing could
possibly make itself, (which would absurdly imply, that before,
it both was and was not,) and therefore, whatsoever was of
itself, must ever have been, or never had beginning of being.
80 much then, I suppose, you take to be most certain, that
.something hath ever been of itself. Whereupon you may
further add,
(.9.) That what was ere r of itself, was necessarily. I hope
you understand what is meant by being necessarily, that is,
being so as that it could not possibly but be. You may per-
ceive that some things are so as that it was possible they might
not have been, as a house, a town, a garment, or whatsoever
was made by such makers as might have chosen whether they
would have made it, or no. Yea, or whatsoever is any way
made to be, having before not been ; for what once was not, it
is manifest it was then possible for it not to be. But to be ne-
cessarily, is to be so as that it could never possibly but have
been ; that is, that which is necessarily, is somewhat of so
excellent a nature, as that it could never be out of being.
IS'ow what was ever of itself, it was in this sense necessarily ;
namely, so as that the excellency of its nature was such, as
could never permit that it should not be ; whence the name
I AM agrees peculiarly and always thereunto. Nothing can
otherwise be of itself, (not by making itself, which you have
seen is impossible,) but by an everlasting possession of that
excellency of being, which excludes all possibility of not being.
It depends upon no one's choice or power, whether that which
is of itself shall be or not be.
(4.) What hath thus ever been necessarily, still is, and
will ever be ; which is plain upon the same ground. What
could never but be, can never but be ; for its nalure is such,
as whereto not to be is impossible. Otherwise, if its nature
had not been such, there being nothing else by which it should
be made, it could never have been. Wherefore thus far you.
302 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
have firm footing in (his first step ; no part of the ground
■which it measures shakes under you. Yon may say you are
sure of this — That somewhat there now is, that hath been
from all eternity, necessarily and of itself, without depend-
ence upon any thing else, and that can never cea.^e to be.
— Set this down therefore for a certainty, and then add
to it,
2. That whatsoever is not necessarily and of itself, is from
and by that which is necessarily and of itself, as the first Au-
thor and Cause thereof. This is so certain, that nothing
needs to be said for the proof of it more than hath been said
already, so that you do but understand the meaning of it ;
which you cannot but do, if you consider that all things that
are, or ever were, must be of these two sorts, namely, what
was of itself, and what was not of itself, but from another :
therefore, what is not of the first sort, must be of the second ;
that is, what was not of itself, must be from another ; and
then, what other must it be from ? Surely from what was of
itself, as its first and chief cause, whatsoever interior or secon-
dary causes it may have had besides, that were before it,
caused by that first. So that you now have plainly before you,
find in view, some or other eternal, necessary Being, not only
to be considered as it is in itself, but as the original and root
of all besides. Then go forward a little, and further add,
3. Neither this visible world, nor any thing of it, is neces-
sarily, or of itself, without depending upon any thing else ;
and was therefore created and made by some more excel-
lent Being that was so, and is quite distinct and diverse from
it. That this may be made evident to you, consider,
(I.) That whatsoever is changeable or imperfect, and
capable of becoming more perfect, is not necessarily, and of
itself, without dependence on any thing else. For what is of
itself necessarily, and without dependence on any other, must
nave whatsoever belongs to it, all at once ; for from whence
should any addition or change happen any way to it ? Not from
any other, for it no more depends on another for addition, than
it is liable to diminution by another, being what it is, necessa-
rily, or from itself: for nothing can impart or add what it hath
not ; and what it hath was in it before, and was in it necessarily,
and therefore unalterably, and without possibility of any change.
Now you know this visible world is continually changing, and
in an imperfect state ; and we may add, that there is somewhat
invisible, of whose present being we are certain, that was not.
of itself, and that did not make this world. For instance, we
CHAP. Ill- THE LIVING TEMPLE. 303
are certain of the present being- of onr own mind and spirit,
which we cannot see with our eyes, but by self-reflection we
are sure we have somewhat in us that can think. Nor is there
any thing that comes under our immediate, certain observa-
tion, more excellent than man himself, especially his mind
and soul. And do you not yourself know, and find hovr
changeable, indigent, and imperfect that is ? Therefore you
may be sure it is not of itself, nor the maker of this visible
world. If all the men in the world should join all their wit
and power together, which way would they go to work to make
such a world as this ? Yea, or even to make one single pile
of grass, or grain of sand ? Which way can you devise then,
they should make the sun or stars, or such an earth as this ? It
is plain, then, that all this worid had a maker, distinct from
itself.
(2.) Whatsoever being is of itself, is more excellent than
what is not of itself. This you cannot but assent to at the
first sight : for besides that you must needs acknowledge it
better to live of one's self, than to be beholden to another, you
must also know that whatever being is not of itself, hath no
excellency in it, but what was in that being that was of itself
before ; and therefore it had in it all the excellency that is
in such tilings as proceeded from it, (unabated because in it ne-
cessarily,) together with the proper excellency of its own being,
whereas the other sort of beings have but their own derived
excellency only. Wherefore this also is most evident, that
this world had a maker distinct from and more excellent than
itself, that changes not, and whereto that name most properly
agrees, I AM THAT I AM. Being sure of this, you may pro-
ceed, and conclude,
4. That the things which are manifestly not of themselves,
but created and made, do plainly shew r that the maker of them
doth excel in power, wisdom, and goodness. The greatness
of his works shews his mighty power ; the nature, exactness,
and order of them, his admirable wisdom ; and his own self-
sufficiency, and independency on the things made, shew his rich
and vast goodness in making them, as you may see more at
large in Part I. Now therefore, if you have attended, you
cannot but find that you are sure and at a plain certainty con-
cerning these four things : — That somewhat was ever, and is
necessarily ; — that what was not so, did arise from that which
was ; — that this Avorld being not so, did therefore spring
from that eternal, necessary, self-subsisting Being; — and that
this Being hath those particular excellencies, whereof there
S04 THE LIVING TEMTLE. PART II.
are the manifest appearances and footsteps in the works that
are made by him, (namely, especially power, wisdom, and good-
ness,) in himself. And thus the invisible things of him from
the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by
the things that are made, even his eternal power and godhead ;
so that they who see them not are without excuse. Rom. 1.
20. If you be sure that any thing is, you may be sure some-
what was ever of itself: if you be sure any thing that was
not of itself hath appearances of power, wisdom, and good-
ness in the frame of it, you maybe sure that that Being which
was of itself is the powerful, wise, and good Creator and Maker
of it. It is to be hoped, then, you are at a certainty, — That
God is.
Secondly, And now as to the second principle, that hath
been insisted on also in 1\\c former Part, — 1 'hat this God is con-
versable with inert. You cannot surely doubt, but that he
that made you, and gave you all that any way belongs to your
being, can apply himself to you, or any of his creatures, in a
way suitable to the natures which he hath put into you and
them ; nor that he is ready to Converse with you, in a way
suitable to the nature he hath given you, if you be such
towards him, and so apply yourself to him, as you ought.
For it is not a greater thing to do so, nor more exceeding or
going beyond the reach of his power, wisdom, and goodness,
as you caimot but see, than to have given being to you, and
all tilings.
But now if what is further discoursed in that former Part,
concerning the oneness of the Divine Being, and the infinite-
*ness thereof, or concerning any other perfections there par-
ticularly asserted unto it, seem not so plain to you as is re-
quisite to guide and facilitate your applications to him ;
what hath been more plainly said in this, is however sufficient,
as more primarily fundamental and prerequisite to that
further knowledge of his nature and will towards you, which
in another way is to be had and sought after.
A cloud and darkness are now drawn over the world of
mankind : and though it be still very easily discernible that
God is) it is yet more difficult to attain to so distinct apprehen-
sions what he is, as are necessary to our conversing with him.
Against this difficulty, he hath afforded a gracious relief;
that is, he hath provided there should be a more express dis-
covery of him extant among men, than can be collected by
their making observations upon this world. The case was
such with man, (grown now so great a stranger to God,) as to re-
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 305
quire a written revelation of his nature and will; and we have
it in those scriptures which bear with us the name of the word
of God. It were indeed very unseasonable and absurd, to
urge their authority in the inquiry, whether there be a God
or no ? For what authority have they more than other writings,
but as they are God's word ? Therefore to expect or give
assent to them as such, while yet it remains an undecided con-
troversy, whether there be any such one, or no, for whose
sake the assent should be given, were to expose our religion,
not to prove it. These holy writings were not intended, by
their affirmation of it, to inform us of God's existence, which
they suppose, and do not prove, as a thing we may otherwise
be certain of; but to teach us our duty towards him, and
what our expectations may be from him ; and do therefore
give us a true representation and discovery of his nature, (so
far as it was needful for us preparatively first to know it,) and
then next, of the present state of things between him and us,
that we might be directed how to apply ourselves to him suit-
ably to both the one and the other. It is true, that we can
never know that there is a God, without knowing somewhat
of his nature, or what a one he is. We cannot so much as
inquire whether he be or no, but we must have some notion
in our minds of the thing we inquire about ; and so much as
is necessary to this purpose, may be plainly gathered in the
way we have gone hitherto. For if we understand the dif-
ference between something and nothing, between being and no
being, and find that something is, or that there is some being;
and again, if we understand the difference between a thing's
being of itself, and being of or from another, and find the
former must be the original of the latter, we cannot but un-
derstand ourselves, when we say there is an Original Being.
And having some understanding what is meant by power,
wisdom, and goodness ; withal finding that not only the
effects of these, but these very things themselves, are in the
world, we cannot but be sure (because these things come
not of nothing) that the Original Being is powerful, wise,
and good. And now when we have thus found out an Ori-
ginal Being, that is of wisdom, power, and goodness sufficient
to be the Author of such a world as this, we at once know
both what God is, (sufficiently to distinguish Iiim from all things
else,) and are at a certainty that he is.
When we perceive that he hath given to all breath and
being and all things ; we have sought, and even felt and found
him out, and found that he is not far from any one of us,
VOL. i. 2 R
306 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II,
since in him we live and move and have our being ; that he
is every where present, in this his crealion, as the great Sus*
tainer and the Life of the universe ■ and forasmuch especially
as we are his offspring, (as even the light of a Heath- n poet
could reach to discover,) even zee, who are a sort of intelligent,
designing, active beings, that therefore the Godhead is not
like silver, or gold, &c. but of a nature more nearly re-
sembling that, of our own souls, and the higher excellencies
of the best of his creatures, although eminently containing in
himself also all the real perfections, virtues, and powers of
all the rest: when we understand so much of God, (as we
may by the light of our own reason,) we understand enough to
give a foundation to religion, and to let us see he ought to have
a temple, and worship : and another sort of temple than is
made by men's hands, other worship than can be performed by
the hands of men ; as is there clearly argued, and inferred by
the apostle, upon those plain grounds. Now when we are ar-
rived thus far, it is seasonable to make use of the further help
which we may observe the great, and wise, and good God to
have most condescendingly, most aptly, and most mercifully
a/Forded us, for our more distinct understanding of his nature,
and our own state ; and how we are to behave ourselves towards
him thereupon.
IV. Taking notice therefore that there is a written revela-
lion of him extant in the world, that bears his name, and
gives itself out to be from him; if now we look into it, ob-
serve the import and design of it, compare it with what we
before knew of his nature and our own ; consider what is most
obvious to an easy self-reflection in our own state and case,
and how exactly this written revelation agrees and corresponds
to those our former notices ; taking in withal the many con-
siderations that concur besides, to evidence to us the divine
original and authority thereof: we cannot but have much
rational inducement and obligation to receive, with all reve-
rence and gratitude, this revelation, as from God ; and to rely
upon it, as a sure and sacred light sent down from heaven, to
direct us in all our concernments God-ward. For finding our
own great need of such an additional light, and apprehending
it. sufficiently agreeable to the divine goodness to afford it, and
expecting it to be such, in itsscopfc and design, as we find it
is : if we further consider it must have had some author, and
perceiving it not easy, with any plausible pretence, to affix it
to any other than God himself: if we consider that it was
impossible it could be invented by men, without some design
CHAP. ITT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 307
of self-advantage, either in this world or in the other; and
}iow absurd any such expectation must be, either from men
here, (the contents thereof being so repugnant to the common
inclinations of men, as to oblige those that owned them to the
severest sufferings on that account,) or from God hereafter,
^vho could not bo expected to reward forgery, falsehood, and
the usurpation of his name ! If again, we further observe the
positive attestations whereby he hath challenged and owned it
as his own, and wherein the divine power hath borne witness
to the divine truth contained in it ; if the matters of fact on
"which all depends appear not less certain than that there were
men and nations in the world, that we have not seen, and before
we were born : if we see it not only improbable, but even next
to impossible, that the records of those miraculous attestations
should have been forged, and nations imposed upon thereby ;
and amongst them, many of the wisest of men in those very
times when the things recorded were alleged to have been
done, and in a matter wherein their eternal hope was concern-
ed ; * we shall upon the whole see cause to judge, That as it
were most absurd to suppose such a revelation given by God,
and no sufficient rational evidence withal given that it is from
him, (without which it cannot serve its end, and so would
signify nothing,) so that there is nothing wanting, in divine
estimate itself, to make up such a sufficient, rational evidence ;
nor in our own, unless we would suppose it necessary that
every man should have a Bible reached him down by an im-
mediate hand from heaven, or make some other supposition as
fond and vain as that ; or that we count not that sufficient evi-
dence, which ought to satisfy our reason, if it do not gratify
our fancy and curiosity too. It is not fit, here, to say more
of the divine original of those holy writings, nor needful; so
much being written already, + with so great clearness, on that
subject, by many. That therefore being out of question what
you cannot reason out yourselves, or apprehend from the rea-
sonings of others, concerning God's nature tending to represent
him worthy of a temple with you, and capable of receiving and
rewarding your sincere and spiritual worship, fetch out from
that divine volume ; for you may be sure, though you can-
* If we t^ke notice that in some parts of this Vol. there are very ancient
predictions, of the strangest and most unlikely events, that we see exactly
fulfilled in the other parts.
t Ur. Stillingffeet, in his Origincs Sacne. Grotius deVerit. Chr. Relig.
Huet. Demonstr. Evangel. &C, Mr. Baxter's Reasons of Christian Religion.
With many more.
308 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PAHT IT.
not search him out unto perfection, he perfectly understands
himself, and is certainly such, as he there tells you he is : and
he there reveals himself to be such, as to whom the temple
aiid worship we here intend, cannot be doubted (as he hath
ordered things) to be both due and grateful. Whatever might
be otherwise matter of doubt, is by his express discovery of
himself, taken away.
If it were still a doubt, after all that hath been formerly said
for the reasoning out of these things, whether the Deity be one
only, or manifold ; whether the world had but one, or had
not many makers ; and so, whether there be no danger of
misapplying our religion, or of mistaking the object of our
worship. This word plainly tells us,
First, That there is but one God, the Father, of whom are
all things. 1 Cor. 8. 6. That he is God, and there is none
else. Isa. 45. 21, 22. And that however there be three
that bear witness in heaven, and the stamp of whose name
is, in our baptism, distinctly and solemnly put upon us ;
Mat. 28. 1 John 5. yet (as in many other instances, that
may be in some respect three, which in some other respect is
but one) without the unnecessary, punctual declaration, how
these are three, and how but one, it expressly tells us, these
three tire one.
And if it be yet a doubt with us (in which the reasonings of
some may be too short to determine and resolve them) whether
this one God be so absolutely and every way perfect as to
be sufficient for us all ; whether he can understand all our con-
cernments, relieve us in all our necessities, hear our prayers,
satisfy our desires, receive our acknowledgments and thanksgiv-
ings, and take notice with what love and sincerity they are
tendered unto him ; or, if he can do for us according to our
necessities, and reasonable desires ; whether we have any
ground io believe that he will ; this word of his plainly as-
sures MS,
Secondly, Thaihe is God all-sufficient; Gen. 17. 1. that he hath
all fulness in him. It often represents him to us, under the name
of the Lord God Almighty : tells us that he can do every
thing, and that he doth whatsoever it pleaseth him. It tells us his
understanding is infinite, and particularly assures us that he
searches the hearts of men, and tries their reins ; that they can-
not think a. thought, or speak a word, but he understands
them afar off, and knows them altogether : that his eyes are upon
all the ways of men ; that he knows all things, and therefore
knows if they love him.
CHAP. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 309
And that we may be the more fully put out of doubt bow easy
it is to him to do so, we are assured,
Thirdly y That he is everywhere present, that he fills heaven
and earth, that the heaven, and heaven of heavens, can-
not contain him : that there is no going from his Spirit, or fly-
ing from his presence ; that if one go up to heaven, he is
there ; lie down in hell, he is there : go to the uttermost part
of the sea, yet there his hand shall lead, and his right hand
hold them.
Fourthly, And that all doubt may vanish, concerning his
will and gracious inclination, how expressly doth he make
himself known by this name ? namely, That he is the Lord,
the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-sufFering, and
abundant in goodness and truth, &c. Exod. 34. 7. And by
the same blessed and inspired penman of a part of these holy
writings, (the beloved disciple, who lay in the bosom of his
only-begotten Son ; who also is in the bosom of the Father,
and hath declared him,) we are not only told that God is
Light, whereby the knowledge, purity, simplicity, and glory
of the Divine Being are represented, but also, once and
again, that God is Love, that we might understand him as
a Being not of more glorious excellency in himself, than
of gracions propensions towards his creatures. And lest
it should be thought our meanness should exempt us, and
put us beneath his regard, we are told, lie taketh care for
sparrows, he heareth the ravens when they cry ; and generally,
that the eyes of all Wait upon him, and he gives them their
meat in season, Ps. 145. (which even the brute creatures are
emphatically said to seek of God) and that he opens his hand,
and satisfies the desire of every living thing. Ps. 104.
And besides what he hath so expressly testified concerning his
oavii .nature, his favourable inclinations towards men might
sufficiently be collected from that very nature which he hath
given to man, considered in comparison and reference to his
own : that lie made him in his own image ; and that he being
the Father of spirits, hath placed a spirit in man, so agreeable
to his own spiritual nature ; and by his own inspiration given
him that understanding, that the mind begotten corresponds,
by its most natural frame and constitution, to the mind
that begot, the vots ven^vtl^ (as it was anciently called,) his oxen
Eternal Mind: and that if its own original be remember-
ed, it turns itself towards him, seeks his acquaintance by
an instinct he hath himself implanted in it, and cannot rest
until he have such a temple erected in it, wherein both he and
310 THE LIVUTG TEMPLE- PAJIT II.
it may cohabit together. By all this, his aptness to that con-
verse with men, which is imported in the notion of a temple,
doth so far appear, that at least it is evident such converse
cannot fail to ensue, supposing that there were nothing 1 in the
way that might be a present obstruction thereto. And it will
more appear, when we have considered (since there is some*
what that obstructs this converse) what he hath done to remove
the obstruction, and how he hath provided that the inter-
course may be restored, and his temple be resettled with menj
upon everlasting foundations.
CHAP. IV,
I. That there is an obstruction to this intercourse. If The method of
the following discourse. Fin/, Man's apostasy from God, and the
vitiated state of his nature; 1. Not only represented in the sacred
Scriptures, but also, 2. Acknowledged and lamented by Pagans:—
in some respects very mistakenly; wherein perhaps some of them not
justly understood:— This not the primitive state of man ; therefore not
to be imputed to the Author of nature. Secondly, The temple of God
hereby made waste and desolate, and become, 1. Unfit for the divine
presence, being, (1.) Unsuitable, and, (2.) Disaffected. 2. Hereupon for-
saken, and most justly. Thirdly, The new foundation and platform of
his present temple laid in Immanuel.
I. ~JT\ UT so far it is, that there should want probability of
X3 a very inwr.rd commerce between God and man, that
we have reason to think it rather strange, considering- his na-
ture and our own, it should not have been continual ; and that
his unbounded and self-communica<ive fulness was not by him
always afforded, and always imbibed and drawn in by so
capable and indigent a creature. One would wonder what
should have discontinued this intercourse! What can be so
apt to give and flow out, as fulness ? What should be so apt
to receive and take in, as want and emptiness ? Such a com-
merce then as con be supposed between one * that is rich and
full, and them that are poor and necessitous, one would think
should have never failed. So a fabulous dream may be sig-
nificant, and not uninstructive, touching the reason and way
• Porus and Penia. „
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 311
of commerce between God and creature. We are therefore
put upon a new inquiry, and need no longer spend ourselves
in anxious thoughts, Can there be any converse between God
and men ? That we may rather say, How can it not be ? or,
How strange is it there is not more ! that he hath not a temple
in every human breast, replenished with his vital presence !
that there are nothing but ruins and desolation to be found,
where one would expect a fabric worthy of God, and an in-
dwelling Deity ! This must therefore be the sad subject of
our thoughts a while, What hath rendered the blessed God so
much a stranger on earth, and occasioned him in so great part
to forsake his terrestrial dwelling ? Whence we shall have the
advantage (seeing how just cause there was, on his part, for
this deplorable distance) to adore the grace that returns hiin
to us, and inclined him to take that strange course, which we
find he did, to repair his forlorn temple, and fill this desolate,
forsaken world with the joyful sound of those glad tidings,
" The tabernacle of God is with men." We shall find he is
no further a stranger in this world, than as we have made and
continued him so : no further a home-dweller in it, than as
by an admirable contrivance of wisdom and love, which will
be the eternal wonder of the other world, he hath made way
for himself: whereby his propensions towards men, prevailing
against so great an obstruction, do even now appear at once
both evident and marvellous, and ought to be not only the mat-
ter of our belief, but admiration.
II. Wherefore our discourse must here proceed by these
steps, to shew — That mankind hath universally revolted, and
been in a state of apostasy from God ; — that hereby the tem-
ple of God in man hath been generally made waste and
desolate; — and that he hath laid both the new foundations
arid the platform of his present temple in Immanuel, God with
us, his own incarnate Son, who rebuilds, beautifies, fur-
nishes, inhabits it, and orders all the concernments of it.
First, Mankind hath universally revolted, and been in &
state of apostasy from God. This we do little need to labour
in — every man's own reflection upon the vitiated powers of his
own soul, would soon, as to himself, put the matter out of
doubt ; whence each one's testimony concerning his own
case, would amount to a universal testimony. No man that
takes a view of bis own dark and blinded mind, his slow and
dull apprehension, his uncertain staggering judgment, roving
conjectures, feeble and mistaken reasonings about matters that
concern hira most ; ill inclinations, propension to what is un-
312 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART IT.
lawful to him, and destructive, aversion to his truest interest
and best good, irresolution, drowsy sloth, exorbitant and raven-
ous appetites and desires, impotent and self- vexing passions —
can think human nature, in him, is in its primitive integrity,
and so pure as when it first issued from its high and most pure
original. By such reflection, every man may perceive his
own ill case, in these and many more such respects ; and by ob-
serving the complaints of the most serious, and such as have
seemed most to study themselves, collect it is generally so with
others also.
I. They that have read the sacred volume, cannot be ig-
norant that all flesh have corrupted their way ; (Gen. 6.) that
the great God, looking down from heaven upon the children
of men, to see if there were any that did understand, that did
seek God, (Ps. 14. 2.) hath only the unpleasing prospect be-
fore his eyes even of a universal depravation and defection ;
that every one of thera is gone back ; they are altogether become
filthy, there is none tliat doeth good, no not one ; that all
have sinned, and come short of the glory of God ", (Rom. 3.
10 — 23.) that this world lieth in wickedness : (1 John 5. 19.)
and that this was not the first state of man, but that he is de-
generated into it from a former and better state: that il God
made him upright," but that he is become otherwise, by his
own "many inventions :" (Eccl. 7. 29.) that by trying, con-
clusions to better a state already truly good, he brought him-
self into this woeful plight ; and by aiming at somewhat above,
sunk so far beneath himself into that gulf of impurity and misery,
that is now become to him as his own element and natural
state. ...
- 2. Yea and the matter hath that evidence, that 'even many
of them who, for aught We know,, never conversed with those
sacred records, have no less clearly discovered their sense of the
present evil state of man, than their ignorance of the original
of that evil, though some of them carefully acquit God of
it. • Max. Ty'r. Diss. .25. • \Ve find their complaints * of the
malignity of ignorance surrounding ail the earth, and that
corrupts the soul shut up in the body : that, as a garment and
■web, inwraps the minds of men, that they cannot .look to him
whose pleasure it is to be known, and who is not to be heard
with ears, nOr seen with eyes, or expressed by words. That
till it be rent in pieces, they have upon them t the bo7id of cor-
*The so controverted Merc. Trismeg. c. 7. Secund. M. Ficin. Interpret.
CHAP.IT. the living temple. SIS
ruplion, the dark coverture, the living death, the sensible
■carcass, a moving sepulchre, which they carry about with
them.
We find complaints, that * by bonds and chains our mind is
held, from our infancy : of certain " mean and debasing
passions, that i\o fasten and even nail the soul to the body :"
©f+ much greater evils, and more grievous , than the most pain-
ful bodily diseases, gouts, stranguries, dysenteries, and my~
riads of the like; namely, all manner of sins, wickednesses,
transgressions, ungodlinesses, which wc have to lament as the
maladies or disaffections of our soul.
Of certain £ old or inveterate spots, that are by all means to
l)c washed and purged out : that there are certain ^ -princi-
ples of viciousness, as pleasures, griefs, lusts, fears, enkindled
from the body, but mixed with the soul, and that absurdly bear
rule over it.
And the naturalness of these is more than intimated, while
they are said to be f] rather from parents and our first elements
than ourselves : or, ? rather to be imputed, as is elsewhere
said, to those that plant, than those that are planted.
Whence also, **vice is said to be involuntary : (being rooted
in our natures:) that whosoever are vicious, become so, from
such things as do even prevent our choice. And that ft all
men do more evil than good, beginning even from their very
childhood.
And (as another expresses it) we offend from certain || in*
voluntary passions, in which the pravity of the soul is made to
consist : or §§ that zee here partake a certain mundane nature,
which, he says, is mixed of mind and necessity.
* tigy(A.Zv xxi avvSi'Ttuv rlv xx\yj>{j.imv, tx fieitywy, vav. Iamb, de vit.
Pythag.
f zsigt to Gupx zsAiv^iTiois, tttgiirfav[jLOWJii, (patriots, 'aooxygxi , Tgxy
yovgtxi, ovo-tvltglxi, tffc. 'csigi cis Trr; \J/uj£»iv OToXXjj p.si£pvx xxi %x\£ZJwkgx.
«3c(T/xa;, xxxx, 7rx^iWfj.lxi } a.<j%$-hit.x\x. Idem.
+ ~-\yxxTzaiuppuiAriixt x.Yi>J<$is, p. 256, Hippar. Pythag.
§ ct^yxi xxxlxs.
|l lx rwv yivsloguv xxi ^otynuv, (A.a.7y.oy v 11; x/aiccv. Plat. Tim. Locr.
T) ailixlsov (a.sv rtss tyvlivovlxs xh, rut <$viivo[Aivm fx.aAAov, Idem Timaeus.
** xxxoi, oi' xy.narJflxlx yiyv&fAtZx. Ibid.
tt «f|«'/«- £W< £ * ttxi^uv, xj s| uy.x%rxvx<jiv xnoilts. Idem Hipp. Major,
p. 296.
XX ttxucriot -vsx^rn*.x\x. Plotin. Enne. 1. Lib. 8.
§§ [A.s[Aiyphr) yx% »» $r, 3 tb xo<r/x» f vtftt Ix Tt wv, xj uyciyxrtt. Idem
p. 77.
VOL. i. 2 s
314 THE LIVING TEMPLE. ' PART II.
And even from hence that * virtue is voluntary ; vice is, by
another, concluded to be involuntary. " For," says that au-
thor, a who can willingly, in the most lovely and most noble
part of himself, choose that which is the greatest of all evils ?"
esteeming vicious inclination the most repugnant thing to
liberty, (as it is indeed in the moral sense,) and the greatest
slavery. Whereupon, another inquiring, since God doth no-
thing but what is good, whence evils should come, resolves that
whatsoever is good is from heaven, but t all evil from our self-
natural vileness. And another speaks of an evil adhering to our
being, and not only acquired, but ^ even connatural to us ; yea,
and this evil is said to be the very death of the soul. The sadness
of the common case of man in this respect, hath been therefore
emblematically represented by § a potion of error and igno-
rance, presented to every one at their first coming into the
world) and whereof it is said all do drink, more or less ; a
woman called Imposture, accompanied by other harlots, Opi-
nion, Lust, Pleasure, &c. seizing and leading away every one.
And hence are || bitter complaints and accusations poured forth
even against nature itself, as being a mere force and war, and
having nothing pure or sincere in it, but having its course
amidst many unrighteous passions ; yea, and its rise and first
production are lamented, as founded in unrighteousness. The
discontentful resentments whereof have made some not spare to
censure our very make and frame, the uniting ^.of an immortal
thing to a mortal in the composition of man, as a kind of dis-
tortion of nature, that the thing produced, should be made to
delight in having parts so unnaturally pulled and drawn to-
gether.
Ho that some of the ethnick philosophers have been so far
from denying a corruption and depravation of nature in man,
that they have overstrained the matter, and thought vicious
inclination more deeply natural than indeed it is ; and so
* tcj oe rriv a.gelnv exbViov hvcci 'izsilxi to ty,v yttXKixv UKtsaiov lzjdgj(ztv } &C.
Alcinous Cap. 30.
■J- e| avhpvus lAO-y^^'ia.-;, Max. Tyr. Dissert. 25.
% to "cjoigtzTofAivov t-7) ao-<jT v5/xtiv xzHov. Hiero. in Carm. Pytliag.
§ T«'y hsTjogtvois.ev&s eis rov /3/ov isoli^et, 'zsavlis 'GslvHcrtv, aX\a. hi (xtv zjXe^ov,
o< Se %-flov. Tab. Cebetis.
|| Empedocles and Heraclitus are represented as (-rroXXaxts o^v^d^stoi k,
l.oioogxvUs Tfiv tyv&iv us ocvxyw) x.tz.1 'noXtf/.ov tiaxv, oc^iyis de [Ainotv /xriOs nXixgins
i'%ao-xv) often bewailing and reproaching human nature, as being a prin-
ciple of force and hostility, and having nothing pure or sincere.
^f tw QvrtTu avngyopivH a§<W!s, &C. Pint, de solert. anim. p. Q64-.
CHAP. It. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 315
taxed and blamed nature, in the case of man, as to be too
liable to implied reflections even on the blessed Author of
nature himself. Whereto the known principles of the sect
of the Stoics * do too plainly tend, who give in so vast a ca-
talogue of the diseases and distempers of the mind of man :
taking every thing into the account that hath the least of
perturbation in it, without excepting so much as mercy it-
self, or pity towards them that suffer unjustly ; and yet seem
to subject all things to fate and natural necessity, whereby all
these evils in the mind of man would be rejected upon the
holy God, as their original Cause. Whence therefore some
that were more sober have made it their business to vindicate
God from so horrid an imputation ; + and one of much note
* D. Laert. L. 7. But perhaps they have been somewhat misunder-
stood by their prejudiced opposers, or some unwary expressions of theirs
been stretched beyond what was meant. For though they reckon 'i\£©*
{compassion) among the distempers of the mind; yet so afterwards they
do a.nXtt]^o(7vvr, {the want of compassion) too. Whence it is probable they
intended to place e'Xj©* {compassion) among the evils of man's nature no
otherwise than as it should include undue perturbation in it, or as it
might urge those who are more apt to be passionate upon such occasions,
than just and wise, to the doing of unfit or unseasonable things for the
afflicted person's relief; than which nothing is more supposable: which
occasioned that famous general Agesilaus, when his sick friend impor-
tuned him with tears, to stop the (then necessary) march of his army for
his sake, (looking sadly back upon him,) to say, us yjxKimav eV<v iXeelv x^PfoveJv,
(How hard is it to Ic pitiful and wise!) Plutar. Apophtheg. Lacon. And that
afterwards making «ysX£»//.oo-i'm vicious too, their meaning was, that a
calm and sedate will or propension to relieve persons in distress was the
virtue, both the other the opposite vices. Which seems more likely than
Menagius's way of salving the lya.v\to<pavis } by supposing a.vi'hinyi.oavvri here
to have been miswritten for IXzyi^oGmyi, by some very assuming transcri-
bers, that were willing rather to express their own mind than their au-
thor's. Observ. in Locum.
t And though in what follows they are sharply taxed, as laying all the
evils of the world (moral as well as other) upon God and nature. This
seems to have proceeded from some lavish speeches of Chrysippus, that
justly fell under the representation of Plutarch's severer and more sound
judgment. Yet surely they did suppose another, and purer state of na-
ture, out of which man was lapsed ; otherwise, how come they, when
they assign the common notion of vicious perturbation or passion, to call
it an irrational and [<&•«$>* fyva-tv xivncris] preternatural motion? What
nature is that, which it is supposed to swerve from ? Besides that, they
constantly call these diseases of the soul, therefoie they understood them,
not to be its very nature : for then what were the diseased subject ? Nor
could it agree with that known dogma of theirs, that virtue is ^axlov ru
a thing to be taught, if they should suppose vice in that sense natural.
And indeed, that Plutarch entitles that book he hath against them,
ol6 THE ETVINT, TEMPLE. PA TIT 17.
animadverts upon the mistakes of such as seemed so to charge
him, sharply blaming them for such an intimation ; but more
sharply (perplexing others in his own dubious twilight) for
the excuse they give of it, namely, That God doth what they
attribute to him in this matter, for the punishment of wicked
men; * alleging it were a grievous matter that God should
will and revenge the same thing, that wickedness should both
be, and be punished, according to the mind of God. + Some
do, with great reverence of the divine majesty, confess the
rise of all this evil to be from man himself, namely, even that
sort of evil which is called by the name of wickedness, is
said to be from an innate principle, which the arbitrary power
of a man's own soul hatcheth and fosters, and the fault is hi*
who admits it: but God is faultless :| that God did place the
soul over a terrene body, as a charioteer over a chariot, which
it might govern or neglect, &"c. §
So another snys, || that whatsoever things come into this
7&orld from God, are good; but evils proceed from a certain
ancient nature, <Sc By which what could he mean, but
the hereditary pravity which hath in a long series descended
from depraved progenitors, so as no longer to be a new thing ;
but of a forgotten original, and from of old reigning in the
world ?
They of this famous sect, the Platonists, seem often to attri-
bute vicious inclination to the soul's being united with the
body • (as supposing it to have existed pure and sinless before ;)
<ffff< ro7x.«y Uavllm, argues, they intended not the gross things he re-
futes, for no man intends contradiction to himself. And since no man-
can hold both parts of a contradiction, it is candid to suppose they would
have chose rather to let go the worse part.
AXKa. fj.lt rov -?£o> y.oKaX^'4 tpvo-i Tri» kockiooi >y TtotXx 770<ei> §771 ttiha&f*
t»v vorngm — They admit, however, that God punishes wickedness, and
does many things for the punishment of the wicked.
*}" ferh [/.si ay th% Seivov to nxl yitscr-Jxi T'/;v •x.u.y.'.a.t nai KsXa-'etTZzi xxlec ra»
t« Atos Xoyov — This is indeed a dreadful notion, that, pursuant to the
appointment of God, evil should both exist and be punished. Plutar. de
Repugnan. Stoicorum.
% a-eyiw Tr>* (zvlopvT}, r> ■vj/y^rjr equina- xvirxet re v.au Ti\t>pofv, v> DMf/Mt-
f«>JC§»}f/a. ecvis tk hho[/,h>i aii'ut. Qsoi avxtTsQ — The self-born principle,
which the power of the soul conceives and biings to maturity, and whose
name is mischief. The cause lies in the being who chooses it. God is not
chargeable with it. Max. Tyr. ubi supra.
§ As he there proceeds.
JJ oa-a. nta.^a. SeS, xya^tk' t* Je jckk* sk rnt a.^.-/»ia.t P tf3 " J ' w »V Plot. EnuesJi
1. 1. 8. p. 77-
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 317
yet even they appear also not to have thought it impossible a
human soul should sometime have been in an earthly body
without sin. For their renowned leader discourses at large
of a former incorrupt state of man in the body, (a golden age,
as others also call it,) and of a defection or apostasy from it ;
which state, though his Egyptian tradition, misinformed him
about the continuance of it, he excellently describes (as also
man's declining from it,) telling us, that "then God familiarly
conversed with men, taking care of them, as a shepherd of
his flock : that he was chiefly intent upon the ducture and
government of their minds ; that (as he afterward says in ano-
ther part of that unfinished discourse) while *the godlike na-
ture continued in sufficient vigour with them, they were
obedient to laws, and behaved themselves friendly towards
that t divine thing that teas akin to them. Then they pos-
sessed thoughts that were true, and altogether great ; using
meekness and prudence in reference to their own conditions
and one another: that thev disregarded all things in com-
parison of virtue. They easily bore a prosperous condition,
esteeming all outward things little. They were not intoxicated
or drunken with sensual delights ; but sober and quick-sight-
ed, and all things increased upon them through their mutual
love and virtue. But they growing at length into a too great
esteem and love of terrene things — \and that participation which
they had of God decaying (whereas all was well while the
Divine Nature remained with them) and being variously in-
termingled with ^ much deadly evil, and a kind of human cus-
tom or course of living," as elsewhere he so expresses sinfui
corruption, " prevailing among them, and they not able to
bear a prosperous condition, came to shame, and to ruin with
it ; having lost the loveliest of their most precious things."
Agreeably whereto, another, discoursing of the nature and ori-
ginal of evil, places it in our being plunged and sunk into
matter and corporeity : and commenting upon a noted passage
of his master, (in Theatet.) namely, " That our recovery
must be by a speedy flight to God," &c. says, that || this Jlight
is not to depart from the earth, hut that we become, even while
we are on earth, righteous, and holy, and wise.
Therefore also have we with this sort of men, so frequent
discourses of the purgative virtues, which suppose a lapse
i t« Qiov Qvair avius s^jjfxn. -f isgo: to ovyytns Qetot,
II «« to ex yv ivih^Hi «>7.«, &c, Plot, Enne. 1. lib. L
318 THE LIVING TEMPLE. f ART If*
into great impurities ; yet not so inseparable from our natures,
but that by divine help (which they also sometimes speak of as
necessary) a cure and redress maybe wrought.
Nor, if we consider, can it be so much as imaginable to us,
that the present state of man is his primitive state, or that he
is now such as he was at first made. For neither is it con-
ceivable, the blessed God should have made a creature with
an aversion to the only important ends, whereof it is naturally
capable: nor particularly, that he created man with a disaf-
fection to himself; or that ever he at first designed a being of
so high excellency as the spirit of man, to drudge so meanly,
and be so basely servile to terrene inclinations; or, that since
there are manifestly powers in him of a superior and infe-
rior sort and order, the meaner should have been, by original
institution, framed to command ; and the more noble and ex-
cellent, only to obey and serve : as now, every one that ob-
serves may see the common case with man is. And how far he
is swerved from what he was, is easily conjecturable, by com-
paring him with the measures which shew what he should be.
For it cannot be conceived for what end laws were ever given
him, if, at least, we allow them not the measures of his primi-
tive capacity, or deny him ever to have been in a possibility
to obey. Could they be intended for his government, if con-
formity to them were against or above his nature ? or were they
only for his condemnation ? or for that, if he was never capable
of obeying them ? How inconsistent were it with the good-
ness of the blessed God, that the condemnation of his creatures
should be the first design of his giving them laws ; and with
his justice, to make his laws the rule of punishment, to whom
they could never be the rule of obedience and duty ; or with
his wisdom, to frame a system and body of laws, that should
never serve for either purpose, and so be upon the whole
useful for nothing? The common reason of mankind teacheth
us, to estimate the wisdom and equity of law-givers, by the
suitableness of their constitutions to the genius and temper of
the people for whom they are made ; and Ave commonly reckon
nothing can more slur and expose government, than the im-
posing of constitutions most probably impracticable, and which
are never Hkely to obtain. How much more incongruous must
it be esteemed to enjoin such as never possibly could ! Pru-
dent legislators, and studious of the common good, would be
shy to impose upon men under their power, laws against their
genius and common usages, neither alterable easily, nor to any
CflAP. TV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 319
advantage. Much more absurd were it, with great solemnity
and weighty sanctions io enact statules for brute creatures !
And wherein were it more to purpose to prescribe unto men strict
rules of piety and virtue, than to beasts or trees, if the former
had not been capable of observing them as the latter were not ?
We insist not on the written precepts in the sacred volume,
(where we have also the history of man's creation and fall,)
but let the law be considered which is written in men's hearts;
the vo/a©' ^//./sfyoto*, the t«£<* mo//.©-, or the lex tiala (in the
ethnick language) * which the eternal' lawgiving mind hath
created in our souls. And how evidently doth that law con-
vince, that we neither are, nor do what we should? How
gross and numerous deformities do we daily behold by that
shattered and broken glass ? how many things which we dis-
approve, or certainly would, if we discussed the matter with
ourselves ? How frequent bulTetings are many, when they re-
flect, constrained to suffer at their own hands ; even wherein
(not having another law) they are only " a law to themselves, 1 '
and have only their own thoughts, either their excusers, or
accusers ? And what doth that signify, but a lapse and recess
from their original state? the broken imperfect memorials
whereof, are a standing testimony against their present course ;
their notions of right and wrong, comely and uncomely, re-
monstrating against their vicious inclinations and ways. For
would they ever reprove themselves for what was not possible
to be otherwise ? Or was man created a mere piece of self-
contradiction ; or with a nature made up of repugnancies,
and perpetually at war with itself? This I should do, but
that which is clean contrary I have a mind to. Were thes£
ever like to be impressions, both, signed upon him by the same
hand ? Nothing is plainer therefore, than that he is corrupted
from his primitive integrity, and become a depraved and a
degenerate thing.
Secondly, We go on then, in the next place, to shew, —
That by this degeneracy, the temple of the living God among
men, became waste and desolate : namely, both uninhabitable
or unfit for his blessed presence ; and — thereupon, deserted
and forsaken of it. And (because in breaches and disagree-
ments man hath the first hand and part) we shall therefore
treat, 1. Of the unfitness of man, in his state of apostasy, to en-
tertain the divine presence, or be any longer God's temple ;
* t«J/«o yo/AG&t'jr vols $ix$t<riAO§tTa, tout ^vyxis. Hierocl. p. 19. and
%}0.
320 the living temple. tart If.
and, 2. Of the blessed God's absenting himself, and estrange-
ment from him hereupon.
I. That the spirit of man, by his having apostatized, be-
came unfit to answer the purposes of a. temple, will too plainly
appear, by considering the nature of that apostasy ; which,
what was it. but a severing himself from God; a recess and se-
paralion ? Not in respect of place, (which was impossible,) but
the temper of his mind and spirit; or not by a local removal,
but by unsuitableness and disaffection, departing in heart from
the living God. It is true indeed, that by this his revolt, he
became indisposed to all other converse which belonged to
him as a creature intelligent and virtuous, but chiefly to divine :
the blessed God being the chief term of this defection arid revolt.
For man, by his original rectitude, was principally determined
towards God; and by the same due bent and frame of spirit
by which he stood rightly postured towards him, he was in a
right disposition to every thing besides wherewith he had any
concern. And adhering to him as his centre and prime ob-
ject, he kept his due order towards all other things : whence
by forcing and relaxing the bonds that held him united to
God, and by changing his posture towards him, he came to
stand right no way. Turning to him the back, and not the
face, all things are inverted to him. He is now become most
directly opposite to God, and unduly disposed towards other
things Only by means of that opposition. As then he is unfit
for every other good use, so most of all for that of a temple ;
and that upon both the above-mentioned accounts, as being
first unsuitable to the blessed God, and then thereupon dis-
affected.
(1.) Man was become most unsuitable to him; the divine
image (which where should it, be but in his temple) being
now defaced and torn down. We speak not now of the na-
tural image of God in man, or the representation the soul of
man hath of its Maker in the spiritual, intelligent, vital, and
immortal nature thereof, which image we know cannot be
lost ; but its resemblance of him in the excellencies which ap-
pear to be lost, and which were his duty, a debitum inesse,
and could not be lost but by his own great default. And
those are both such as wherein the soul of man did imitate
and resemble God, as knowledge, purity, justice, benignity,
&c. and such as wherein though it could not imitate him,
yet was to bear itself correspondency towards him; as he be-
ing the absolute Sovereign, to be subject to him, obey and
serve him : and he being the all-sufficient Good, to trust itt
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 321
him, depend upon him, know, love, and delight in him,
unite with him, and expect blessedness only in and from him.
How unlike and disagreeable to God in all these respects is
apostate man ! That whereas the notion given us of God, is,
that he is Light, and with him is no darkness at all ; (J John 1.)
it is said of such as have been involved in the common apostasy,
in reference to that their former state, "Ye were darkness;"
as if that were the fittest and truest account that could be given
of this revolted creature : not that he is in darkness, or there
is much darkness in him, but, "He is darkness." He and
darkness may define one another — That is he ; and he is that.
A dismal horrid cloud hath inwrapped his soul, that resists
and yields not easily to tlie most piercing beams, excludes
light, wheresoever it would insinuate itself. This hath made
the soul of man a most unmeet receptacle for the divine pre-
sence, and more like a dungeon than a temple. And as lie is
now sunk into carnality, and a low, abject, earthly spirit, how
unfit is he for divine converse ! How unapt to savour the things
of God ! How unlike the Father of Spirits ! And whereas he
was of a middle nature, partaking somewhat of the angelical,
somewhat of the animal life, how is he swallowed up of the
latter, and become like the beasts that perish ; as the horse
and mule without understanding, as the dog and swine both
for fierceness and impurity ; as the one is both apt to bite and
devour, and return to his own vomit, and tlie other both to
rend such as stand in his way, and wallow in the mire. We
might add the sundry other Scripture resemblances of wolves,
bears, lions, serpents, adders, vipers, &c. whereby many brutes
seem to meet in one man ; and to have made a collection, and
contributed their worst qualities, and all the venom of their na-
tures, to the making up of one mischievous composition in him.
So that instead of a temple, he is a cage of every unclean and
hurtful thing : he is, in short, of a reprobate mind, full of
all unrighteousness, fornication, wickedness, coyetousness,
maliciousness, envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity, &c.
How repugnant, in all respects, to tiie holy, pure, benign,
merciful nature of God ! How remote from the imitation
of his Maker, wherein he hath offered himself as his most
imitabie pattern! And wherein he is not imitabie, but re-
quires a proportionable and correspondent deportment or
conformity ; as by trust to his all-sufficiency, by subjec-
tion to his sovereign power and government. How dismal
is the case, and how horrid the effects of the apostasy in these
regards ! How preposterous and perverse are his dispositions
vol. i. 2 T
322 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
and the course he hath run ! For wherein it was permitted to
him to imitate and affect likeness to a Deity ; where he was put
under no restraints, and his highest aspirings had been not
only innocent, but most worthy of praise, (as to imitate God in
wisdom, righteousness, sincerity, goodness, purity, &c.) here
nothing would please but utmost dissimilitude, and to be as
unlike God as he could devise. But in those things that were
within the inclosure, and appropriate most peculiarly to the
Godhead ; to be the first and the last, the Alpha and Omega ;
the only one on whom all must depend, and to whom all must
be subject and obey : these sacred regalia, the highest rights
and flowers of the eternal crown, these are thought fine things,
and beheld with a libidinous devouring eye, caught at by a
profane sacrilegious hand. Nothing would satisfy but to be
Godlike in this most disallowed and impossible sense. Man,
when he hath reduced himself to the lowest pitch of vileness,
misery and penury, now will be self-sufficient ; and when he
is become the most abject slave to ignominious lusts and pas-
sions, now he will be supreme : that is, having made himself
viler than the meanest creature, and worse than nothing, he
will be a God, even his own, a God to himself. Having severed
and cut himself off from God, he will supply the room, and
live only within himself ; be to himself what God was, and
should ever be. He now moves wholly in his own sphere,
disjoined from that of the whole world, and is his own centre.
All he does is from himself, and for himself. Thus is the true
image of God torn down from his own temple, and that alien-
ated, and become the temple of a false God, dedicate to that
abominable idol, self.
(2.) Whence it comes to pass, that man is most disaffected
to God, and full of enmity. So Scripture testifies concerning
the carnal mind, Rom. 8. 8. And what it had before repre-
sented (ch. 2.) full of all malignity, it afterwards speaks of
as directing it (most horrid to think !) against this blessed ob-
ject ; "Ha<ersof God, despiteful, &c." Nor is any thing
more natural ; for, in part, the contrariety of their nature to
his, more immediately begets this enmity, which always rises
out of dissimilitude ; and partly it is fomented and increased
to a great degree, by a secret consciousness of that dissimilitude,
and the misgivings of their own guilty fears thereupon : which
must tell th^m, whensoever they have so much communication
with themselves, that they are unlike, and cannot but be un-
pleasing to hire : and this infers some kind of dread ; whence
(as hath been commonly observed) the passage is short and easy
griAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 325
unto hatred. And though the more positive workings of this
enmity do not (perhaps with the most) so ordinarily discover
themselves ; and they do not see or suspect that they hate him,
while they are not urged to self-reflection; and when they are,
hardly admit a conviction that they do : yet the matter car-
ries its own evidence with it, and would soon be put beyond
a question, if men were willing to understand the truth of
their own case. For whence else do they so slowly entertain
the knowledge of God, when the whole earth is full of his
glory? When so manifest prints and footsteps of his wisdom,
power, and goodness, do offer themselves to view in every
creature, whence can it be, but that they like not to retain him
in their knowledge ? Rom. I. And that their very hearts say to
him, Depart from us, we desire not the knowledge of thy
ways? Job 21. Why is so bright a light not observed, but
that it shines amidst a malignant darkness, that, resisting, com-
prehends it not ? Why are the thoughts of God so unpleasant
to men and unfrequent, that when one would suppose no
thoughts should be so obvious, none so welcome, yet it is become
the character of an unrenewed man to forget God, (Ps. 9.) or
not to have him in all his thoughts ? Ps. 10. Why do men
decline his acquaintance, live voluntary strangers to him all
their days, and as without him in the world ? Ephes. 2.
Why are men so averse to trust him, and turn to him, even
upon so mighty assurances ? What makes them shy to take
his word, but rather count him a liar, though they know it
inconsistent with his nature ; and can form no notion of God,
without including this conception therein, that he cannot lie ;
when as yet they can ordinarily trust one another, though
there be so much colour to say, "All men are liars? 1 ' Why
do they resist his authority, against which they cannot dispute,
and disobey his commands., unto which they cannot devise to
frame an exception ? What, but the spirit of enmity, can
make them regret so easy a yoke, reject so light a burthen,
shun and fly off from so peaceful and pleasant paths ; yea,
and take ways that so manifestly take hold of hell, and lead
down to the chambers of death, rather choosing to perish than
obey ? Is not this the very height of enmity ? What further proof
would we seek of a disaffected and implacable heart ? Yet to
all this, we may cast in that fearful addition, their saying in
their heart, No God ; (Ps. 14.) as if they should say, O that
there were none ! This is enmity, not only to the highest pitch
of wickedness, (to wish their common Parent extinct, the
3&& THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
Author of their being, ) but even unto madness itself. For in the
forgetful heat of this transport, it is not thought on that they wish
the most absolute impossibility, and thai, if it were possible, they
•wish, with his, the extinction of their own, and of all being ; and
that the sense of their hearts, put into words, would amount to no
less than a direful and most horrid execration and curse upon God,
and the whole creation of God at once ! as if by the blasphemy
of their poisonous breath, they would wither all nature, blast
the whole universe of being, and make it fade, languish, and
drop into nothing. This is to set their mouth against heaven
and earth, themselves, and all things at once, as if they
thought their feeble breath should overpower the omnipotent
word, shake and shiver the adamantine pillars of heaven and
earth, and the almighty fiat be defeated by their nay ; striking
at the root of all ! So fitly is it said, The fool hath in his
heart muttered thus ! Nor are there few such fools : but this
is plainly given us as the common character of apostate man,
the whole revolted race ; of whom it is said, in very general
terms, "They all are gone back, there is none that doeth good."
This is their sense, one and all ; that is, comparatively; and
the true state of the case being laid before them, it is more their
temper and sense to say no God, than to repent, and turn to
him. What mad enmity is this ! Nor can we devise into what
else to resolve it.
This enmity, indeed, more plainly shews itself where the
Divine Glory (especially that of his grace, and good-will
towards men, a thing not less evident, than strange!) more
brightly shines : yet there are so manifest appearances of it
every where, and he hath so little left himself " without wit-
ness" unto any, that the universal strangeness of men towards
him apparently owes itself more to enmity than ignorance ;
and even where there is much darkness, there is more ill-will.
For their ignorance, by which they are alienated from the life
of God, is called blindness of heart ; that is, voluntary, affect-
ed blindness, Eph. 4. 18. It can be imputed to nothing else,
that they who have God so near to every one of them, who live,
and move, and have their being in him, do not yet seek after
him, and labour to feel and find him out ; that is, that they
can miss of God so nigh at hand, when they have even palpable
demonstrations of his nearness, and kind propensions towards
them. Now this being the case, whatever this degenerate
vile creature might serve for else, he was plainly most unfit
for the use of a temple, or to be the dwelling-place of God,
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 395
2. Nor can it now be a wonder that the divine presence should
be hereupon withdrawn ; that the blessed God absents himself,
and is become a stranger to this his once beloved mansion.
We shall here take notice how apparent it is — That he hath
done so, and — That he was most highly justifiable herein.
(1.) That God hath withdrawn himself, and leiY this his
temple desolate, we have many sad and plain proofs before us.
The stately ruins are visible to every eye, that bear in their
front (yet extant) this doleful inscription — u Here God once
dwelt.''' Enough appears of the admirable frame and structure
of the soul of man, to shew the divine presence did sometime
reside in it ; more than enough of vicious deformity, to pro-
claim he is now retired and gone. The lamps are extinct,
the altar overturned ; the light and love are now vanished,
which did the one shine with so heavenly brightness, the
other burn with so pious fervour ; the golden candlestick is
displaced, and thrown away as a useless thing, to make room
for the throne of the prince of darkness ; the sacred incense,
which sent rolling up in clouds its rich perfumes, is exchanged
for a poisonous, hellish vapour, and here is, u instead of a sweet
savour, a stench." The comely order of this house is turned
all into confusion ; " the beauties of holiness" into noisome
impurities ; the " house of prayer into a den of thieves," and
that of the worst and most horrid kind : for every lust is a
thief, and every theft sacrilege : continual rapine and rob-
bery are committed upon holy things. The noble powers
which were designed and dedicated to divine contemplation
and delight, are alienated to the service of the most despicable
idols, and employed unto vilest intuitions and embraces ; to
behold and admire lying vanities, to indulge and cherish lust
and wickedness. What ! have not the enemies done wicked-
ly in the sanctuary ? How have they broken down the carved
work thereof, and that too with axes and hammers, the noise
whereof was not to be heard in building, much less in the
demolishing this sacred frame ! Look upon the fragments of
that curious sculpture which once adorned the palace of that
great king ; the relics of common notions ; the lively prints of
some undefaced truth ; the fair ideas of things ; the yet legible
precepts that relate to practice. Behold ! with what accuracy
the broken pieces shew these to have been engraven by the
finger of God, and how they now lie torn and scattered, one
in this dark corner, another in that, buried in heaps of dirt
and rubbish ! There is not now a system, an entire table of
coherent truths to be found, or a frame of holiness, but some
326 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
shivered parcels. And if any, with great toil and labour,
apply themselves to draw out here one piece, and there ano-
ther, and set them together, they serve rather to shew how ex-
quisite the divine workmanship was in the original composi-
tion, than for present use to the excellent purposes for which
the whole was first designed. Some pieces agree, and own
one another ; but how soon are our inquiries and endeavours
non-plussed and superseded ! How many attempts have been
made, since that fearful fall and ruin of this fabric, to compose
again the truths of so many several kinds into their distinct
orders, and make up frames of science, or useful knowledge ;
and after so many ages, nothing is finished in any one kind !
Sometimes truths are misplaced, and what belongs to one kind,
is transferred to another, where it will not fitly match : some-
times falsehood inserted, which shatters or disturbs the whole
frame. And what is with much fruitless pains done by one
hand, is dashed in pieces by another ; and it is the work of a
following age to sweep away the fine-spun cobwebs of a former.
And those truths which are of greatest use, though not most
out of sight, are least regarded : their tendency and design
are overlooked ; or Ihey are so loosened and torn off, that
they cannot be wrought in, so as to take hold of the soul, but
hover as faint ineffectual notions, that signify nothing. Its
very fundamental powers are shaken and disjointed, and their
order towards one another confounded and broken : so that
what is judged considerable is not considered, what is recom-
mended as eligible and lovely is not loved and chosen. Yea,
the truth which is after godliness is not so much disbelieved,
as hated, held in unrighteousness ; and shines as too feeble a
light in that malignant darkness which comprehends it not.
You come, amidst all this confusion, as into the ruined palace
of some great prince, in which you see here the fragments of
a noble pillar, there the shattered pieces of some curious ima-
gery, and all lying neglected and useless among heaps of
dirt. He that invites you to take a view of the soul of man,
gives you but such another prospect, and doth but say to
you, — " Behold the desolation ;" all things rude and waste.
So that should there be any pretence to the divine presence,
it might be said, If God be here, why is it thus ? The faded
glory, the darkness, the disorder, the impurity, the decayed
state in all respects of this temple, too plainly shew the great
Inhabitant is gone.
(2.) And what was so manifest a sign of God's absence, was
also a most righteous cause t for who have committed these
chap.it. the living temple. 327
great wastes, and made this temple uninhabitable, but men
themselves ? And what could be more injurious to the holy
God, than to invade and profane his temple ? Or for what
could we suppose him to shew more jealousy and concern ?
Whoever were a God, one would expect he should plead for
himself, when men have cast down his altar. No words can
express the greatness of the indignity ! For do but take the
following state of the case, thus : Man was his own creature,
raised out of nothing by his mighty and most arbitrary hand ;
it was in his power and choice, whether ever he should have
being, any, or none, another, or this, of so noble an order and
kind. The designation was most apt, of so excellent a creature
to this office and use, to be immediately sacred to himself, and
his own converse ; his temple and habitation, the mansion and
residence of his presence and indwelling glory ! There was
nothing whereto lie was herein designed, whereof his nature
was not capable. His soul was after the required manner,
receptive of a Deity ; its powers were competent to their ap-
pointed work and employment ; it could entertain God by
knowledge and contemplation of his glorious excellencies, by
reverence and love, by adoration and praise. This was the
highest kind of dignity whereto created nature could be raised,
the most honourable state. How high and quick an advance !
This moment, nothing, the next, a being capable and full of
God!
It was a most delectable and pleasant state, to be separated
to the entertainment of the divine presence ; that as soon as
man could first open his eyes, and behold the light and glory
of this new-made world, the great Lord and Author of it
should present himself, and say, "Thou shalt be mine." How
grateful a welcome into being! "Thee, above all my works,
which thou beholdest, I choose out for myself. Thine em-
ployment shall be no laborious, painful drudgery ; unless it can
be painful to receive the large communications of immense
goodness, light, life, and love, that shall, of their own accord,
be perpetually flowing in upon thee ! Whatsoever thou espiest
besides, that is even most excellent and pleasant to thy sense,
is yet inferior to thee, and insufficient for thy satisfaction and
highest delight, and but the faint shadow of that substantial ful-
ness, which 1 myself will be unto thee."
There was, in all this, the freest and most condescending
vouchsafement ; no necessity could urge the self-sufficient
Goo-1 to affect union and familiarity with its own creature.
Maa's alienation of himself from God, was as entirely volun-
328 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
tary, nothing could force him (o it ; he could have no in-
ducement, -which it was not easy to resist ; heaven and earth
could not afford the matter of a regardable temptation, to with-
draw him from what did so infinitely excel. But how mean
tilings have become the tempting and prevailing objects !
the momentary relishes of a merely sensual delight, that might
have been had innocent and pure, without breaking the en-
closure. Ravenous appetite, lust after forbidden pleasure,
is impatient of restraint : reason, that should have restrain-
ed it, resigns its office, falls into a treacherous combina-
tion with usurping sense, ©booses rather to obey than rule, to
rebel than obey ; for not to rule, being thereto enjoined by the
supreme Ruler, was to rebel. The empire of rebellious ap-
petite was reckoned move tolerable than God's : thus are
his authority affronted and his goodness despised both at once.
He is rejected both as ruler and benefactor, with equal disre-
spect to his majesty and grace, to his governing and his
heart-delighting presence. And how ignominious, hereupon,
is the rejection, when so vile things are chosen and preferred !
The tyranny of lust, before his holy, reasonable, orderly go-
vernment; the pleasures of sin, rather than those of the divine
presence : this being the practical, decisive judgment given
in the case, that these are better. It is better to be the meanest
drudge and slave than his servant, and to feed upon husks
or ashes than his pure and most satisfying communications.
And what he chose to be, he is ; that is, with the indignity
done to God, he hath joined the vilest debasement of himself.
For hence also, how loathsome a creature is he now become 1
How perverted in all his powers ! How full of darkness, con-
fusion, impurity, malignity, and venom ! How universally
and horridly deformed ! And hereof an estimate may be made,
from his unaptness to self-reflection ; which how notorious
is it ! What doth he not rather choose to do with his thoughts,
than turn them inward ? And how unfit is he for divine con-
verse, that cannot endure his own ; or to associate with God,
that is become too foul a creature to have any satisfying con-
verse with himself ! Now what could be expected to ensue
upon all this, but that he should be forsaken of God ; that the
blessed presence be withdrawn, that had been so despitefully
slighted, to return no more ? No more, until at least a recom-
pense should be made him for the wrong done, and a capacity
be recovered for his future converse : namely, until both his
honour should be repaired, and his temple ; until he might
again honourably return, and be fitly received. But who
4
CHAP. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. S29
could have thought in what way these things should ever be
brought to pass ? that is, neither could his departure but be
expected, nor his return but be above all expectation. To
depart was what became him ; a thing, as t ?> e case was, most
God-like, or worthy of God, and what he owed to himself.
It was meet so great a Majesty, having been so condescend-
ingly gracious, should not be also cheap, or appear unappre-
hensive of being neglected and set at nought. It became
him, as the self-sufficient Being, to let it be seen he designed
not man his temple for want of a house; that having of old
inhabited his own eternity, and having now the heavens for
his throne, the earth his footstool, he could dwell alone,
or where he pleased else, in all his great creation ; and did
not need, where he was not desired. That of the Cynic was
thought a brave saying, when his malecontented servant turned
fugitive, and left him — " It were an unworthy thing Manes
should think he can live without Diogenes, and that Diogenes
cannot without Manes." (Senec. de Tranquill.) How much
better would it suit with the real self-fulness of a Deity, where
nothing of this kind can look like an empty, hollow boast ! It
was becoming of his pure and glorious holiness, not to dwell
amidst impurities, or let it be thought he was a God that took
pleasure in wickedness ; and most suitable to his equal justice to
let them who said to him, " Depart from us," feel they spake
that word against their own life and soul ; and that what was
their rash and wilful choice, is their heaviest doom and pu-
nishment. It was only strange, that when he left his temple
he did not consume it ; and that not leaving it without being
basely expelled, he hath thought of returning without being
invited back again. Yea, and that whatsoever was necessary
thereto, is designed by his own so strange contrivance, and
done at his own so dear expense : his only-begotten Son most
freely consenting with him, and in sundry capacities sustain-
ing the weight and burthen of this great undertaking. This
leads us to the third thing proposed, which will be considered
in the following chapter.
vol. I. 2u
330
THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
chap. v.
I. The restitution of this temple undertaken by the Tmmanuel. IF. The
subject of -the preceding chapter continued, wherein is shewn, Thirdly,
That the blessed God hath laid the platform and foundations of his pre-
sent temple in Immanuel; which was first more darkly prefigured, and
afterwards more clearly revealed: he was himself to be the platform,
the foundation, and the founder of it; and in order hereto must also be
a sacrifice. III. The subject more particularly considered, wherein, is
shewn the sufficiency and the necessity of this constitution of Imma-
nuel, for this purpose. First, Its sufficiency; in which it is proved,
I- That we have enough in him, whereupon God might express him-
self willing to rebuild and return to his former temple. This founded
on his sacrifice: objections to his sacrifice answered. 2. That man be
made willing to render it back to him, and admit the operation of his
fashioning hand. To effect this purpose, it is shewn, ( I.) That on ac-
count of his sacrifice, he hath the power of giving the Holy Spirit. (2.)
That the unwillingness of man is to he overcome by the power and
spirit of Immanuel, as hereafter to be more fully shewn : but working
(suitably to an intelligent subject 1 ) in a rational way. i3.) In this there
is a great accommodateness in the constitution of Immanuel, as de-
monstrating, [l.] Divine love. [2.] Divine holiness: and those, (l.)In
the possibility of attaining them. (2.) In their own native loveliness.
Secondly, The necessity of this constitution of Immanuel for this pur-
pose.
J. A ND indeed, what was to be designed and done, did
X\_ every way call for so great an undertaker. — The in-
dignity offered to the majesty of <he most high God, in his
so ignominious expulsion from his own temple, was to be re-
compensed : — and the ruin must be repaired which had be-
fallen his temple itself. In reference to both these perform-
ances, it was determined that Immanuel, that is, his own Son,
his substantial Image, the Brightness of his glory, the eternal
Word, should become incarnate; and being so, should under-
take several parts, and in distinct capacities, and beat once a
.single Temple himself, and that this temple should be also a sa-
crifice, and thereby give rise to a manifold temple conformed
to that original one, of each whereof, in the virtue of that
sacrifice, he was himself to be the glorious Pattern, the firm.
Foundation, the magnificent Founder, and the most curious
Architect and Former, by his own various and most peculiar
influence.
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 331
This hatli been the result oi'the divine counsel, and the Lord's
own doing, most justly marvellous in our eyes.
IF. This leads us to the last thing proposed in the method
in the preceding chapter ; and to consider,
Third?//, That the blessed God hath laid the platform and
the foundations of his temple, as it was to be restored and set
up again among men, in and by that great Immanuel, Ins
own Son made flesh. It is to be considered that (as hath been
shewn) the world had a long time lain deluged with wicked-
ness, sunk in sensuality, and a deep oblivion of God ; his me-
morial was even lost among men, and nothing less thought of
than a temple in the true design and meaning of it ; the notices
of God, and any inclination to religion that remained, (too
deeply infixed into the mind and nature of men to be quite ex-
tinct,) were yet so faint and weak, carnal and terrene propen-
sions so strong, that the vital religion which was the proper
business of a living temple, could have no place. It was npt
so only in the Pagan world from which God had further with-
drawn himself, but even with that select people to whom he
vouchsafed more peculiar manifestations and symbols of his
mind and presence.
They had a figurative temple by his own appointment,
erected in much glory among them, that might have instructed
them, and by degrees the rest of the world, if they would
have understood its true meaning and signification, that God
v/as yet willing to dwell with men on earth, and that it should
be a "house of prayer for all nations," who ought, upon
those glorious appearances of God among that people, lo
have gradually proselyted themselves unto them. It pre-
figured what he intended, namely, in his appointed season,
by his own Son to descend and inhabit, make and constitute
him a much more glorious temple than could be built of wood
or stone, or by the hands of men : that in after time " Shiloh
should come, unto whom the gathering of the people should
be," and by whom he would reconcile and re-collect the
apostate world back again to himself. But all this was as un-
intelligible mystery on all hands ; entered not into the minds
of men of either sort, but much less into their hearts ; and the
Jews did much more affect to paganize, and go further off
from God, than the Pagans (which in this they ought) to ju-
daize, and draw nearer to him. The natural sentiments of
religion, which were common to all men, did run out only into
mere external observances and empty (though somewhat dif-
ferent) formalities, that might well enough agree with a sen-
Oo2 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
sual life, transacted in habitual estrangement from God, and
as without him in the world ; so as not only not to answer
the true intent and use of a temple, but to frustrate and
elude it.
When this was the state of things with this world, and
the fulness of time was now come, wherein God intended,
with more vigour and efficacy, to renew and reinforce his
mighty and merciful work of setting up his temple, and to
make it rise in splendour and glory in the world, he at length
sends down his Son : he puts on man ; becomes Immannel ;
an incarnate God among men ; and a Man inhabited by all the
lulness of God. This man was, therefore, a most perfect Tem-
ple ; the original one ? that is, not only a single one himself,
but an exemplary Temple, to which all other were to be con-
formed ; the advantage whereof to the forming of more we
shall see hereafter : whereby he was also a virtual one> from
which life and influence were to be transfused to raise and
form all others. But in order to its being so, this very temple
must become a sacrifice ; and by dying, multiply : a seminal
temple, as we shall hereafter shew, and as he himself represents
the matter, John 12. 24. And which is in the full sense of it
said, 1 Peter 2. where, when we were first told, (v. 4, 5.) we
r us* corre to him as un'o a living stone, and as lively stones
be built up a spiritual house; we are further told, (r. 24.)
that he himself bare our sins in his own body on the tree,
(where he was offered as a sacrifice,) that we might die to sin
and live to righteousness. For now, a temple being, in its proper
use and design, intended for divine honour, could not have
its foundation in the ruin thereof, or be built upon his unre-
jmedied dishonour : the Son of God, by tendering himself
| for a valuable recompense, must be the Corner-stone of this
'new building. The wrong that man had done to the divine
majesty should be expiated by none but man, and could be
by none but God. Behold then the wonderful conjunction of
both in the one immanuel 2 who was, by his very constitution,
an actual Ttmple : " God with us :" the habitation of the Deity
returned, and resettling itself with men : and fitted to be (what
it must be also) a most acceptable sacrifice. For here were
met together man that could die, and God that could over-
come death ; man, that might suffer, and God, that could
give sufficient value to those sufferings ; sufficient to atone the
offended Majesty, and procure that life might be diffused, and
spread itself to all that should unite with him ; whereby they
might become living stones, joined to that living Corner-stone ;
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 333
a spiritual temple, again capable of that divine presence
which they had forfeited, and whereof they were forsaken.
III. That all this n,?y be the better understood, we shall en-
deavour to shew, moic distinctly, the sufficiency and apt-
ness of ihe constitution and appointment ot Immanuel, (coa-
sftderftig what be was, and what was undertaken to be suffered
and performed by him,) -i s (he most proper and adequate means
for the restoring of God's temple with men; and the necessity
of th s course for this end.
First, And for the aptness and sufficiency of this course, or
what the setting up of Immanuel might do for this purpose,
may be seen in the suitableness hereof to the foregoing state of
the case, and by comparing therewith what he is, and hath,
done and suffered in order hereto. We have seen that the
former desolate state of this temple was occasioned and in-
ferred by man's apostasy, (whereby he became incapable of
serving any longer the purposes of a temple,) and God's de-
parture thereupon. There was therefore the concurrence of
somewhat on man's part, and somewhat on God's, unto this
desolation: on man's, what was unjust, leading, and causal;
on God's, what was most just, consequent, and caused thereby?
man's unrighteous and ill-deserving aversion from God, and
God's most righteous and deserved aversion hereupon from
him : tiie one caused by the other, but both causing in dif-
ferent kinds the vacancy and deserted state of this temple
which ensued ; the former as a sinning cause, the latter as
a punishing. Now what we have considerable in the Im-
manuel towards the restoration of this temple, and that it
might become again habitable and replenished by the Divine
Presence as before, is answerable to this state of the case ;
and directly tending to compose things between the distanced
parties, both on the one part and the other. And because
God was to have the first and leading part in reconciliations,
as man hath in disagreements, we have enough in him, where-
upon — God might express himself willing to rebuild and re-
turn to his former dwelling ; — and man be willing to render
it back to him, and admit the operation of the fashioning
hand whereby it is to be prepared and refitted for its pro-
per use.
1. That God might rebuild and return to his former tem-
ple. This is effected ; and a foundation is laid for the effect-
ing of the other too, in his becoming a sacrifice to justice ; a |
sacrifice so rich and fragrant, so full of Value and grateful
savour, as that abundant recompense is made by it for the
\
331: THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
wrong man bad done lo the Majesty of heaven, by profaning
and polluting this temple, and expelling so coiitumeliously its
great Inhabitant : — an injury, to which the creation, consuming
in a universal flame, had been an unproportionable sacrifice :
but the sacrifice of himself, the Immanuel, God-Man, could
be defective in nothing ; was both suitable and equal to the
exigency of the case. For the .sacrifice of him who was man,
was suitable to the offence of man ; and of him who was God,
was equal to the wrong done to God. Long before this sa-
crifice was off red, the expectation of it, and since, the re-
membrance, have been precious. It was of sufficient virtue to
work and diffuse its influence at the greatest distance; and
cot of time only, but of place too : to periuine the world, and
scatt r blessings through all the parts and nations of it, as well
as through all the ages. When no other sacrifice or offerings
could avail anything, (Ps. 40. Heb. 10.) lo ! He comes into
a body prepared on purpose : which, though it was not form-
ed and assumed until the fulness of time, (Gal. 4. 4.) was yet
reckoned as slain from the beginning of it, Rev. 13. 8. This
was the seed in which, though it sprung up only in Judea,
yet all the nations of the earth were to be blessed, Gen. 22.
18. Long was this body in preparing, and the seed trans-
mitted through many generations, whence it was at length to
arise ; into which as its last preparation, the Deity descended ;
and that it might be a sufficiently costly sacrifice, filled it with
the divine fulness ; for in him dwelt all the fulness of the
Godhead bodily, Col. 2. 9. When we read Abel's sacrifice
to have been more excellent than Cain's, (Heb. 11. 4.) the
Greek word is, it was fuller. How full a one was this ! That
Avas filled by faith with a derivative fulness ; this, immediate-
ly by God himself, with his own self-fulness, which filleth all
in all, and whence all must reecive.
Being so filled, it was a temple, and must now further be a
sacrifice. Both are signified in that one short passage, which
himself let fall, (John" 2. 19.) " Destroy this temple:" that
is, that he was a Temple, and was to be destroyed ; which is
carried in the notion of a sacrifice. This lie said of his body,
x. 21. Strange mystery ! The very temple itself a consuming
oblation, self-devoted even to destruction, and out of that
again self-raised ! The divine justice could not hereby but be
well satisfied, and say, It was enough, when the whole temple
became all propitiatory, and the profanation of the former tem-
ple was expiated by the immolation of the new : so that, ia
point of honour and justice, no exception could now lie
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 535
against the return of the divine presence to its wasted and
forsaken temple. Only his return could not, as yet, be pre-
sently to dwell there, (for it was most unfit,) but to refit and
prepare it for his future dwelling. It had been long desolate,
and hereby was become decayed and ruinous, full of noisome
impurities : yea, the habitation of dragons and devils of
Ziim, and Jiim, andOchim. Many an abominable idol was
set up here, that filled up the room of the one God that had
forsaken and left it. It was wholly in the possession of false
gods, for whose use it was tha more fit, by how much it was
the less fit for his : for amidst darkness, confusion, and filthi-
ness, was the chosen seat of the principalities and powers that
now did dwell and rule here. Ilrre was the throne of the
prince of darkness, the resort of his associates, the altars of as
many lusts as the heart of man, now wholly given up to all
manner of wickedness, could multiply unto itself; by whose
consent and choice, this horrid alienation had been made and
continued. Upon such terms the " strong man armed kept the
house."
The blessed God might now return, but he mi\st build be-
fore he dwell, and conquer before he build. He might re-
turn, but not upon other terms than the expiatory value, and
actual or ascertained oblation of that above-mentioned sa-
crifice : for when he forsook this his temple, he left it with
just resentment, and his most righteous curse upon it — a curse
that was of this import, "Never any thing holy or pure any
more come here, or any thing good and pleasant. The light of
the am never shine any more at all on thee : the voice of joy
and gladness never be heard any more at all in thee." The
powerful horror of this curse held it doomed to all the desola-
tion and misery that were upon it; confirmed it in the power
of him that ruled here, at his will. Hence, had the magic
and charms of the evil one, their permitted, unresisted efficacy,
rendered it an enchanted place ; related and adjoined it to the
nether world, the infernal region ; made it the next neighbour-
hood, even of the very suburbs of hell ; and barred out all
divine light and grace, all heavenly beams and influences from
it. So that, had it not been for this Sacrifice, this temple had
been and remained, even in the same kind, an accursed place,
as hell itself: tne Spirit of God should have had no more to do
hefe, than there ; for so the sentence and curse of his violated
law had determined : " Thou shalt die the death," did say no
less.
13ut now, Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the
336 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
law, being made a curse for us : for it is written, Cursed is
every one thathangeth on a tree : that the blessing of Abraham
might come on the Gentiles ; thai we might receive the promise
of the Spirit through faith. Gal. 3. He was made a curse for
lis ; not the same in kind which we had incurred, (which it
were horrid to think,) but such as his state could admit, and
ours could require. For that a person so immutably pure
and holy should become an impure thing, was what his state
could not admit ; and that one of so high dignity should
willingly suffer to that degree which he did for us, was a
thing of so great merit and value, as to answer the uttermost of
our ill-deservings ; than which the exigency of our case could
not, in that respect, call for more. And the end or design of
his becoming to that degree a curse for us, being expressly
said to be this, that we might receive, the promise of the Spirit,
(or the promised Spirit,) implies, that the curse upon us had
intercepted and cut off from us all influences of that holy-
blessed Spirit ; for the fresh emission whereof, in God's own
stated method, he had now again opened the way. That this
blessing is hereby said to become the portion of the Gentiles,
was enough to the apostle's present purpose, writing to the Ga-
latians ; the Jews having, upon the same terms, had the same
privilege formerly from age to age: " Thou gavest thy good
Spirit to instruct them ;" (Nehem. 9. 20.) which also is im-
plied in their being charged with vexing and rejecting this
blessed Spirit, one generation after another, Isa. 63. 10. Acts
7. 51. And they had now the same gospel, and are here also
included, in that it is said to be the blessing of Abraham ; into
the communion Avhereof the Gentiles are now declared to have
been admitted, about which so great doubt had been in those
days. That therefore the Spirit might be given for the men-
tioned purpose, on the account of the Son of God's oblation
of himself, is out of question. The necessity that he should
be only given on these terms, will be seen hereafter, in its proper
place, in ch. 9.
But whereas it hath been designed in all this discourse to
represent the constitution of Immanuel (being first made a
personal Temple, then a Sacrifice) as an apt and fit means to
multiply this one temple into many, and bring it about, that
upon just and honourable terms God might again return to in-
habit the souls of men : it may perhaps be alleged, by some, —
That it seems an unrighteous thing God should appoint his
own innocent Son to be punished for the sins of offending crea-
tures, and let them escape, And then how could an unjust
3
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. o37
act make for the honour of his justice, or that which was in
itself unfit, be a fit means to any good end ? — The loud clamours
wherewith some later contenders have filled the Christian world
upon this subject, make it fit fo say somewhat of it : and the
tiling itself needs not that we say much. We do" know thnt
the innocent Son of God was crucified ; we know it by God's
determinate conns 4; we know it was for the sins of men ;
(which the adversaries, in a laxer and less significant sense,,
deny not, though it must by no means be understood, say
they, as a punishment of those sins :) we know many of those
sinners do finally escape deserved punishment. The truth of
these things, in fact, is disputed on neither side : all these then
are ack now edged reconcileable and consistent with the justice
of God. What then is <o be inferred I Not that these tinners
are not so, for that they are, is acknowledged on all hands.
What then ? That God is unjust ? Will their zeal for the repu-
tation of God's justice admit of this ? No; but it is only un-
just to count this suffering- of his Son a punishment: th it is,
it is unjust he should suffer for a valuable and necessary pur-
pose ; not that he should sutler need 1 - sslj-, or for no purpose
that might not have been served without if ! But why may
not the sufferings of Christ be looked on as a punishment, ?
Because they will have it be essential to punishment, that it, be
inflicted on the person that offended : and then inconsistent
with its notion and essence, that if be inflict; d on an innocent
person. But if so, the pretence for the cry of injustice va-
nishes, unless they will be so absurd as to say, It is very just
to afflict an innocent person, but not to punish him ; when the
punishment hath no more in it of real evil to him that suffers
it, than the admitted affliction. And when they say, The
very notion of punishment carries in it an essential respect
to that personal guilt of him that bears it, it implies that
in the present case punishment hath no place, not be-
cause it is unjust, but because it is impossible. In the mean
time, how vain and ludicrous is that pretence, that all the real
evil which God determined sho >ld befal his Son he should
let come upon him with acknowledged justice, but that the
injustice must lie only in a notion ; that is, if he look upon
it as a punishment. Yet also the punishing of one for another's
offence is forbidden to men, as themselves allege from i)eut.
24. 16. (as it is not strange God should disallow men that
dominion over one another, which he may claim to himself, and
which he is in no such possibility to abuse as they,) which there-
fore shews their notion of punishment is false, by which they
Vol. i. % x
338 THE LIVIXG TEMPLE. l»AitT It.
would make it impossible for one man to be punished for ano-
ther's faults, (as the learned Grotius acutely argues, De Satis-
fact.) inasmuch as it were absurd to forbid a thing 1 that is im-
possible. And that God himself doth often punish the sinsof some
upon others, is evident enough from many places of holy Scrip-
ture : particularly the second commandment, (Exod. 80. 5.) " I
the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the sins of the fat I' ers
upon the children," &c. 2 Sam. 24. 13, &c. 1 Kings 14. 1 am.
5. 7. Whereas therefore they are wont, on the contrary, to
allege that of Ezek. 18. " Ye shall no more use this proverb,
The fathers have eaten the sour grapes, and the children's teeth
are set on edge," v. 2, 3. and 19, 20, &c. It is plain, in that
it is said, Ye shall no more, &c. that the blessed God speaks
here of what, in merciful indulgence, he for the future would
not do, not of what in strict justice he might not ; for can it be
supposed he owns himself to have dealt unjustly with them
before ?
It is evidently therefore neither impossible nor unjust to
punish one for another's offence ; and the matter only seems
harsh, to such as have misshapen to themselves the notion of
punishment, and make it only correspond to the appetite of
private revenge : whereas it only answers to a just will of
vindicating the rights and honour of government ; which may
most fitly be done, upon another than the offender, not at ran-
dom, or in an undistinguishing promiscuous hurry, but upon
the two suppositions mentioned by the above-recited author.
First, If there be a near conjunction between the person punish-
ed, with the person offending. Secondly, If there be a con-
sent and voluntary susception of the former on behalf of the
other. And we add, as a third, Especially if there be there-
upon a legal substitution, the supreme ruler upon that con-
sent also agreeing, providing, by a special law made in the
case, for such transferring of the guilt and punishment. All
which have so eminently concurred in the present case, that it
can proceed from nothing but a disposition to cavil, further
to insist and contend about it. And we know that such trans-
lations have among men not only been esteemed just, but laud-
able ; as in the known story of Zaleucus, who, having ordained
that adultery among his Locricas should be punished with the
loss of both eyes, and his own son afterwards being found guilty
of that crime, was content to lose one of his own eyes, that justice
might be done to the public constitution, and mercy be shewn
to his son in saving one of his : and that of the Pythagoreans,
Damon and Pythias, the one of whom pawned his own life t&
CHAP. T. THE LTVTN'G TEMPLE. OoV
the tyrant, to procure time for the other (condemned to die)
wherein to settle some affairs abroad before his death ; who
returning within the limited time to save his faith and his
friend's life, by surrendering his own, so moved the tyrant,
(that he spared both. The common case of man, forsaken of
the divine presence, and not to be restored without recompense,
was the most deplorable and the most important that could be
thought. And it may now be compassionately cared for ;
this having been obtained by this great sacrifice, that the di-
vine justice is so well satisfied, and Ins majesty and honour so
fully asserted and vindicated, as that lie now may, without
wrong to himself, (his justice and the dignity of his govern-
ment not reclaiming against it,) cast a compassionate and fa-
vourable eye upon the desolations of his temple ; take up kind
thoughts towards it ; send forth his mightier Spirit to dispossess
the "strong man armed," to vanquish the combined enemy-
powers, to build and cleanse and beautify the habitation of
his holiness, and then inhabit and dwell in it: upon which
account it is now called, the temple of the Holy Ghost ; the
Spirit which the Father sends, in the name of the Son, upon
this errand ; he having obtained that it should be sent. By
which Spirit also the Immanuel was sufficiently enabled to gain
our consent unto all this; for his dying on the cross was not
that he might have the Spirit in himself, but that he might
Lave the power of communicating it : and so (as was before
intimated) might the foundation be laid for what is to be done
on our part, by the offering of this sacrifice; of which we are
next further to treat.
2. That which was to be done on our part, in order to the
restoring of God's temple in us, was, that we be made willing
of his return, and that there be wrought in us whatsoever
might tend to make us fitly capable of so great a presence.
More needs not to be said (but much more easily might) to shew
that we were most umoilling. And that our becoming willing
was requisite, is sufficiently evident. For what sort of a tern*
pie are Ave to be ? Not of wood and stone ; but as our worship
must be all reasonable service, of the same constitution must
the temple be whence it is to proceed. We are to be temples,
by self-dedication, separating ourselves unto that purpose ;
and are to be the voluntary under-labourers in the work that
is to be done for the preparing of this temple for its proper
use : and the use which is to be made of it, that there the
blessed God and we might amicably and with delight converse
together, supposes our continual willingness, which therefore
340 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
must be once obtained. Now unto this purpose also, the con-
stitution of Immanuel was most suitable ; or the setting up of
this one eminent temple first, God in Christ. This was a lead-
ing case, anfi iiad a further design : it was never meant that
the divine presence should be confined to that one single Per-
son, or only that God should have a temple on earth as long
as the Man Christ should reside there ; but he was to be the
prin art/ Original Temple ; and his being so, did contribute to
the maki-g us willing to become his temples also.
(1.) As here was the fulness of that Spirit, by whose power
and influence that, and all the subsequent work, was to be
wrought in us : which fulness is by that blessed name, IM-
MANUEL, signified to be in him on purpose to be communi-
cated, or as what must be some way common unto Hod with
us. Our aversion was not easily vincible : the people, it was
said, (speaking of the reign of Immanuel,) should be willing in
the day of his power; (Ps. 110. 3.) and, as it follows, in the
beauties of holiness. This was a known name of God's tem-
ple, (1 Chr. 16. 29.) for the building whereof David was now
preparing, and whereto the passages agree, Ps. 27. 4. Ps. 96.
8,9. And thai spiritual one whereof we speak must be here
chiefly meant, whereof the Christian world, in its exterior
frame, is but the outer court ; or is subordinate to the interior
frame, and to the work thereof, but as scaffolds to the build-
ing which they inclose. The people shall be zcilling, but not
otherwise than being made so by his pozcer ; and that not al-
ways put forth, but in the day of his power ; on a noted me-
morable day ; a day intended for the demonstration and mag-
nifying of Ms power; that is, the season when Immanuel
(the Lord, to whom the speech is addressed) would apply and
set himself, even with his might, to the great work of restoring
and raising up the temple of God : a work not to be done by
might and power, (according to the common, vulgar notion
thereof, by which nothing is reckoned might and power but
avsiblearm of flesh, hosts and armies, horses and chariots,)
but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts, Zech. 4. Then,
though the spirits of men swell as mountains, in proud enmity
and opposition, (which must be levelled where this building is
designed,) those mountains shall appear bubbles : what are they
before this great Undertaker? They shall become a plain,
when the Head-stone is brought forth with shoutings, unto
which the cry shall be, Grace, grace. This is the Stone laid
in 7ion for a foundation, (Isa. 28.) sure and tried, elect and
precious; (Ps. 118.) disallowed by men, but chosen of God ;
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE, SI 1
the chief Stone of the corner; (1 Peter 2.) a living, spirituous
Stone, from which is a mighty effluence of life and spirit, all
to attract and animate other stones, and draw them into union
with itself, so as to compact and raise np this admirable fa-
Tsri'C, a spiritual house for " spiritual sacrifice, acceptable to
Cod by Jesus Chrisl :" as a Stone that shall spread life through
the whole frame : called therefore a Branch (Zech. 3, 8, P.) as
well as a Stone, whereto is attributed the work and the glory of
building God's temple. " Behold the !V#afi whose name is the
Branch ; and he shall grow up out of his plac ', and he shall
build the tempi- of the Lord; evenheshall build the temple
of the Lord ; and he shall bear the glory," «Src. ch. 6. A plain
indication, that the prophecies of that book did not ultimately
terminate in the restoration of the temple at .Jerusalem ; but,
more mystically, intended the great comprehensive temple of
the living God, which the Messiah should extend and diffuse,
by a mighty communication of his Spirit, through the world ;
when (as is afterwards said, v. 15.) "they that are afar off
shall come and build in the temple of the Lord ;" " and the in-
habitants of one city shall go to another, saying, Let us go
speedily to pray before the Lord, and to see the Lord of
hosts ; J will o-o also. Many people and strong nations,' 1 Szc.
(eh. 8. 20 — 22.) Ten men out of ail languages to one Jew, that
shal say, We will go with you, for we have heard that God is
with you. See Mic. 4. 2. This, it is said, shall be at Jerusalem,
but if must be principally meant of the New Jerusalem, that
cometh down from heaven, that is from above, that is free
with her children, and is the mother of us all. And how
plentiful an effusion of Spirit ! how mighty and genera! an at-
traction, by it, is signified in all this, by which so deeply-
rooted aii aversion to God and serious living religion, as is
known to be common to men, is overcome, and turned into
willingness and inclination towards him! And whereby that
great primary Temple, CHRIST replenished with the divine 1
fulness, multiplies itself into so many, -or enlarges itself into
that one, his church ; called also his body-, ('is both his
very body and that church are called his temple,) the fulness
of him that ftiletfa all in al' J . Nor needs it scruple us, or give
us any trouble, that we find this name of a temple placed upon
a good man singly and alone, sometimes upon the whole
community of such together. Each one-bears a double habi-
tude — direct towards God, by which he is capable of being his
private mansion ; collateral towards our fellow Christians,
whereby he is a part of his more enlarged dwelling. When-
34§ THE LTVTVG TEJ'PU. PART lie
soever then any accession is made to this spiritual temple,
begun in Christ himself, it is done by a further diffusion of
that Spirit, whereof that original Temple is the first recep-
tacle.
(2.) But moreover, because it was a, rational subject that was
to be wrought upon, it is also to be expected that the work
itself be done in a rational way. These that must be made
living, and that were before intelligent stones, were not to be
hewed, squared, polished, and moved to and fro by a violent
hand ; but being to be rendered willing, must be dealt with in
a way suitable to the effect to be wrought. They are them-
selves to come as lively stones, to the living Corner-stone, by
a vital act of their own will ; which, we know, is not to be
moved by force, but rational allurement. Wherefore this
being the thing to be brought about, it is not enough to inquire
or understand by what power, but one would also covet to
know by what motive or inducement is this willingness and
vital co-operation brought to pass ; and we shall find this ori-
ginal Temple, the Immanuel, had not only in it a spring of suf-
ficient power, but also,
(3.) In its constitution a great accommodateness thereto;
carrying with it enough of argument and rational inducement,
whereby to persuade and overcome our wills into a cheerful
compliance and consent. And that,
[I.J As it was itself the most significant demonstration of
dhine love, than which nothing is more apt to move and
work upon the spirit of man. The bonds of love are the cords
of a man, (Has. 1 1. 4.) of an attractive power, most peculiar-
ly suitable to human nature: We love him, because he first
loved us. 1 John 4. This is rational magnetism. When in
the whole sphere of beings we have so numerous instances of
things that propagate themselves, and beget their like, can
we suppose the divine love to be only barren and destitute of
this power? And we find, among those that are born of God,
there is nothing more eminently conspicuous, in this produc-
tion, than love. This new creature were otherwise a dead
creature. This is its very heart, life, and soul ; that which
acts and moves it towards God, and is the spring of all holy
operations. Since then love is found in it, and is so eminent
a part of its com position, what should be the parent of this
love, but love ? Not is this a blind or unintelligent produc-
tion, in respect of the manner of it, either on the part of that
which begets, or of that which is begotten: not only he who
is propagating his own love, designs it, and knows what he is
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. S43
about, but he that is hereby made to love, knows whereto tie
is to be formed, and receives, through on enlightened mind, the
Very principle, power, and spirit of love. Is his love the
cause of ours; or do we love him, because he loved us first ?
And what sort of cause is it ? or how doth it work i<s effect,
otherwise than as his love, testifying and expressing itself, lets
us see how reasonable and congruous it is, that we should
love back again ? As is more than intimated, by the same sacred
writer, in that epistle : " Hereby perceive we tEie love of God,"
&c. ch. 3. 16. Somewhat or other must first render his love
perceivable to us, that thereby we may be induced to love
him for his own, and our brother for his sake. And again,
" We have known and believed the love that God hath to us.
God is love," &c. After which it shortly follows, " We love
him, because he loved us first ;" as if he should say, The way of
God's bringing us to that love-union with himself, that we by
love dwell in him, and he in us, is, by his representing himself
a Being of love. Until he beget in us that apprehension of
himself, and we be brought to know and believe the love that
he hath towards us, this is not done. Butwhere have we that
representation of God's love towards us, save in Immanuel ?
This is the sum of the ministry of reconciliation, or, which is
all one, of making men love God, to wit, that God was in Christ
reconciling the world to himself, &c. 2 Cor. 5. 18, 19. Thin
was the very make and frame, the ronslitudon and design, of
the original Temple, to be the " Tabernacle of witness ;" a
visible testimony of the love of God, and of his kind and gra-
cious propensions towards the race of men, however they were
become an apostate and degenerous race ; to let them see how
inclined and willing he was to become acquainted again with
them, and that the old intimacy and friendship, long since
out-worn, might be renewed. And this gracious inclination
was testified, partly by Christ's taking up his abode on earth ;
or by the erecting of this original Temple, by the Word's being
made flesh, (John 4.) wherein (as the Greek expresses it,
Jffx/jvwo-tv) he did tabernacle among us. That whereas we did
dwell here in earthly tabernacles, (only now destitute and de-
void of the divine presence,) he most kindly comes and pitches
his tent amongst our tents ; sets up his tabernacle by ours,
replenished and full of God : so that here the divine glory
was familiarly visible, the glory of the only-begotten Son of the
Father, shining with mild and gentle rays, such as should al-
lure, not affright us, nor their terror make us afraid. A vail
344 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
is most condescendingly put on, lest majesty should too potently
strike disaccustomed and misgiving minds ; and what is more
terrible of this glory, is allayed by being interwoven with
" grace and truth." Upon tills account might it now truly
be proclaimed, " Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men!"
That is performed which once seemed hardly credible, and
(when (hat temple was raised that was intended but for a type
and shadow of this) Mas spoken of with wondering expostula-
tion : "In very deed will God dwell with men on earth!"
Whereas it might have been reasonably thought this world
should have been for ever forsaken of God, and no appearance
of him ever have been seen here, unless with a design of taking
vengeance ; how unexpected and surprising a thing was this,
that in a state of so comfortless darkness and desolation, the
" day-spring from on high should visit i(," and that God should
come down and settle himself in so mean a dwelling, on pur-
pose to seek the acquaintance of his offending, disaffected crea-
tures ! Bui chiefly and more eminently this his gracious incli-
nation was testified, —
By the manner and design of his leaving this his earthly
abode, and yielding that his temple to destruction : " Destroy
this temple, and I will raise it up." This being an animated
living temple, could not be destroyed without sense of pain,
unto which it could not willingly become subject, but upon
design ; and that could be no other than a design of love.
When he could have commanded twelve legions of angels
to have been the guardians of this temple, to expose it to the
violence of profane and barbarous hands ! this could proceed
from nothing but love : and greater love could none shew,
especially if we consider what >vas the designed event. This
temple was to fall but single, that it might be raised manifold :
it was intended (as it came to pass) to be multiplied by being
destroyed ; as himself elegantly illustrates the matter: " Verily,
verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the
ground and die, it abideth ajone ; but if it die, it bringeth
forth much fruit;" (John 12.) which he afterwards expresses
without a metaphor. " And I, if I be lifted up from the earth,"
signifying, as it follows, the death he should die, " will draw
all men unto me."
We will not here insist on what was said before, that hereby
the way was opened for the emission of the Spirit, which, when
it came forth, performed such wonders in this kind, creating
and forming into temples many a disaffected unwilling heart.
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 345
Whence it may be seen, that he forsook that his present dwell-
ing; not that he might dwell here no longer, but only to
change the manner of his dwelling, and that he might dwell
here more to common advantage : the thing he intended, when
he came down. He came down, that by dying, and descend-
ing low into the lower parts of the earth, he might make way
for a glorious ascent ; and ascended, that he might fill all things;
(Eph. 4.) that he might give gifts to men, even the rebellious
also, that he might dwell among them, Ps. 68. Not, I say,
to insist on this, which shews the power by which those great
effects were wrought, we may also here consider the way
wherein they were wrought ; that is, by way of representation
and demonstration of the divine love to men. How brightly
did this shine, in the glorious ruin and fall of this temple !
Herein, how did redeeming love triumph ! how migMiJy did
it conquer, and slay the enmity that wrought in the minds of
men before ! Here he overcame by dying, and slew by being
slain. Now were his arrows sharp in the hearts of enemies,
by which they became subject, Ps. 45. What wounded him,
did, by a strong reverberation, wound them back again. How
inwardly were thousands of them pierced by the sight of him
whom they had pierced ! How sharp a sting was in those
words, " Therefore let all the house of Israel know assuredly,
that God hath made that same Jesus, whom ye crucified, both
Lord and Christ !" Aets 2. For it immediately follows, " When
they heard this, they were pricked to the heart. 1 ' They that
crucified him, are crucified with him ; are now in agonies,
and willing to yield to any thing they are required: " Men
and brethren, what shall we do ?" He may have temples now,
for taking them ; the most obdurate hearts are oyercome :
and what could be so potent an argument ? what so accommo-
date to the nature of man ; so irresistible by it I To behold
this live-temple of the living God, the sacred habitation of a
Deity, full of pure and holy life and vigour, by vital union
with the eternal Godhead, voluntarily devoted and made sub-
ject to the most painful and ignominious sulfcring, purposely
to make atonement for the offence done by revolted creatures
against their rightful Lord I What rocks would not rent at
this spectacle ? Enough to put the creation (as it. did) into tv
paroxysm, and bring upon it travailing pangs! And how
strange if.the hearts of men, only next and most closely con-
cerned, should alone be unmoved, and without the sense of such,
pangs ! Well might it be said, " I, if I be lift up, will draw
all men," -without any such diminishing sense as to mean
vol.i. 2v
M6 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART It.
by (hat all a very few only ; not intending so much by it (he
effect wrought, (though that also be not inconsiderable,) as the
power, or natural aptitude of the cause. As if he should say,
This were enough to vanquish and subdue the world, to mol-
lify every heart of man ; and to leave the character upon them of
most inhuman creatures, and unworthy to be called men, that
shall not be drawn. It might be expected, that every one
that hath not abandoned humanity, or hath the spirit of a man
in him, should be wrought upon by this means : and they
cannot but incur most fearful guilt, even all men, who once
having notice of this matter, are not effectually wrought upon
by it.
Upon which account, the apostle asks the Galatians, (who
had not otherwise seen this sight than as the gospel-narrative
had represented it to them,) who had bewitched them that they
should not obey, before whose eyes Christ had been set forth
crucified among them; intimating, that he could not account
them less than bewitched, whom the representation of Christ
crucified did not captivate into his obedience. And since,
in his crucifixion, he was a sacrifice, that is, placatory and
reconciling, and that reconciliations are always mutual, of
both the contending parties to one another, it must have the
proper influence of a sacrifice immediately upon both, and as
well mollify men's hearts towards God, as procure that he
should express favourable inclinations towards them. That
is, that all enmity should cease, and be abolished for ever ;
that wrongs be forgotten, rights restored, and entire friend-,
ship, amity, and free converse, be renewed, and be made per-
petual. All which signifies, that by this means the spirits of
men be so wrought upon that they render back to God his own
temple, most willingly, not merely from an apprehension of
his right, but as overcome by his love ; and valuing his pre-
sence more than their own life. Guilt is very apt to be al-
ways jealous. No wonder if the spirits of men, conscious of
so great wrong done to God, (and a secret consciousness there
may be even where there are not very distinct and explicit
reflections upon the case,) be not very easily induced to think
God reconcileable. And while he Is not thought so, what can
be -expected but obstinate aversion on their part ? For what so
hardens as despair ? Much indeed might be collected, by deep-
ly-considering minds, of a propension, on God's part, to peace
and friendship, from the course of his providence, and pre-
sent dispensation towards the world ; his clemency, long-suf-
fering, and most of all his bounty, towards them. These lead
€HAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 347
to repentance in their own natural tendency : yet are they but
dull insipid gospel in themselves, to men drowned in sensuali-
ty, buried in earthiiness, in whom the divine Spirit breathes
not, and who have provoked the blessed Spirit to keep at a dis-
tance, by having stupified and laid asleep the considering
power of their own spirit. Nor are these the usual means,
apart and by themselves, which the Spirit of God is wont to
work by upon the hearts of men, as experience and observa-
tion of the common state of the Pagan world doth sadly tes-
tify, and without the concurrence of that blessed Spirit, even
the most apt and suitable means avail nothing.
But now r where there is so express a testification, as we find
in the gospel of Christ, of God's willingness to be reconciled ;
a proclamation distinctly made, that imports no other thing
but glory to God iu the highest, peace on earth, and good-
will towards men ; (for confirmation whereof, the Son of God
incarnate is represented slain, and offered up a bloody sacri-
fice ; and that we might see at once both that God is recon-
cileable, by the highest demonstration imaginable, and how or
upon what terms he comes to be so :) no place for reasonable
doubt any longer remains. We have before our eyes what,
by the wonderful strangeness of it, should engage the most
stupid minds to consider the matter ; what ought to assure the
most misgiving, doubtful mind, that God is in good earnest,
and intends no mockery or deceit in his offer of peace ; and
what ought to melt, mollify, and overcome the most obdurate
heart. Yea, not only what is in its own nature most apt to
work towards the producing these happy effects is here to be
found, but wherewith also the Spirit of grace is ready to con-
cur and cowork ; it being his pleasure, and most fit and
comely in itself, that he should choose to unite and fall in
with the aptcst means, and apply himself to the spirits of men
in a way most suitable to their own natures, and most likely
to take and prevail with them : whereupon the gospel is
called the " ministration of spirit and life, and the power of
God to salvation." But that this gospel, animated by that
mighty and good Spirit, hath not universally spread itself over
all the world, only its own resolved and resisting wickedness is
the faulty cause ; otherwise there had been gospel, and temples
raised by it, everywhere.
[2.] This original 'primary temple hath matter of rational
inducement in it ; as it gives us a plain representation of di-
vine holiness, brightly shining in human nature. For here
was to be seen a most pure, serene, dispassionate mind, un-
SIS THE LIVING TEMPLE. VART If.
polluted by any earthly tincture, inhabiting an earthly taber-
nacle, like our own. A mind adorned with the most amiable,
lovely virtues, faith, patience, temperance, godliness; full of
all righteousness, goodness, meekness, mercifulness, sincerity,
humility ; most abstracted from this world, unmoveably intent
upon what had reference to a future state of things, and the
affairs of another country ; inflexible by the blandishments of
sense : not apt to judge by the sight of the eye, or be charmed .
by what were most grateful to a voluptuous ear ; full of pity
towards a wretched, sinful world, compassionate to its cala-
mities, unprovoked by its sharpest injuries ; bent upon doing
the greatest good, and prepared to the suffering of whatsoever
evil. Here was presented to common view a life transacted
agreeably to such a temper of mind ; of one invariable tenor ;
equal, uniform, never unlike itself, or disagreeing with the
exactest or most strict rules. Men might see a God was come
down to dwell among them ; " The Brightness of the Father's
glory, and the express Image of his person:" a Deify inha-
biting human flesh ; for such purposes as he came for, could
not be supposed to carry any more becoming appearance than
he did. Here was, therefore, an exemplary temple; the fair
and lovely pattern of what we were each of us to be composed
and formed unto : imitating us (for sweeter insinuation and al-
lurement) in what was merely natural, and inviting us to imi-
tate him in what was (in a communicable sort) supernatural
and divine. Every one knows how great is the power of ex-
ample, and may collect how apt a method this was to move
and draw the spirits of men. Had only precepts and instruc-
tions been given men, how they were to prepare and adorn in
themselves a temple for the living God, it had, indeed, been a
great vouchsafement ; but how much had it fallen short of
what the present state of man did, in point of means, need, and
call for ! How great a defalcation were it from the gospel, if
we did want the history of the life of Christ ! But not only to
have been told of what materials the temple of.God must con-
sist, but to have seen them composed and put together ; to
have opportunity of viewing the beautiful frame in every part,
and of beholding the lovely, imitable glory of the whole, and
which we are to follow, though we cannot with equal steps :
how merciful condescension, and how great an advantage, is
this unto us i We have here a state of entire devotedness to
God (the principal thing in the constitution of his temple) ex-
emplified before our eyes, together with what was most suit-
able besides to such a state. Do we not sec how, in a body of
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 319
flesh, one may be subject to the will of God ; to count the
doing of it our meat and drink ? When it imposes any thing
grievous to be suffered, to say, "Not my will, but thine be
done ?" How in all things to seek not our own glory, but his ?
and not to please ourselves, but him ? How hereby to keep his
blessed presence with us, and live in his constant converse and
fellowship, never to be left alone ; but to have him ever with,
us, as always aiming to do the things that please him ? Do
we not know how to be tempted, and abstain; injured, and
forgive ; disobliged, and do good ; to live in a tumultuous
world, and be at peace within ; to dwell on earth, and have
our conversation in heaven ? We see all this bath been done,
and much more than we can here mention : and by so lively a
representation of the brightest divine excellencies, beautifying
this original exemplary temple, we have a two-fold most con-
siderable advantage towards our becoming such ; namely, that
hereby both the possibility and the loveliness of a temple (the
thing we are now ourselves to design) are here represented to
our view : by the former whereof we might be encouraged,
by the latter allured, unto imitation ; that working upon our
hope, this upon our desire, and love in order hereto.
First, The possibility. I mean it not in the strict sense only,
as signifying no more than that the thing, simply considered,
implies no repugnance in itself, nor is without the reach of
absolute omnipotence ; for as no one needs to be told that
such a thing is (in this sense) possible, so to be told it, would
signify little to his encouragement. There are many things in.
this sense not impossible, whereof no man can, however, have
the least rational hope : as, that another world may shortly
be made ; that he may be a prince, or a great man therein ;
with a thousand the like. But I mean it of what is possible to
divine power, (that is, to the grace and Spirit of God,) now
ready to go forth in a way and method of operation already
stated and pitched upon for such purposes. For having the
representation before our eyes of this original Temple, that is,
God inhabiting human flesh on earth, we are not merely to
consider it as it is in itself, and to look upon it as a strange
thing, or as a glorious spectacle, wherein Ave are no further
concerned, than only to look upon it, and take notice that there
is or hath been such a thing ; but Ave are to consider how it
came to pass, and Avith Avhat design it Avas that such a thing
should be, and become obvious to our view. Why have Ave
such a sight offered us ? or Avhat imports it unto us ? And Avhen
we have informed ourselves, by taking the account the gospel
350 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
gives us of this matter, and viewed the inscription of that great
name Immanuet, by wonderful contrivance, inwrought into
the very constitution of this temple, we shall then find this to
be intended for a leading case ; and that this temple was
meant for a model and platform of that which we ourselves are
to become ; or, after which the temple of God in us must
be composed and formed : and so, that this matter is possible
to an ordinate, divine power, even to that mighty Spirit that
resides eminently in this temple, on purpose to be transmitted
thence to us, for the framing of us to the likeness of it ; and so that
the thing is not merely possible, but designed also, namely, that
as he was, so we might be in this world: (Uohn4.) unto which
is necessary our believing intuition towards him, or a fiducial
acknowledgment that this Jesus is the Son of God, come down
on purpose into human flesh, to bring about a union between
God and us; whereupon that union itself ensues : the matter
is brought about, we come to dwell in God, and he in us, r. 15.
And this we collect and conclude from hence, that we find
the same Spirit working and breathing in us, which did in him ;
" Hereby know we that we dwell in him, and he in us, because
he hath given us of his Spirit," v. 15. And though it was an
unmeasured fulness of this Spirit which dwelt in this primary
temple, yet we are taught and encouraged hence to expect
that a sufficient and proportionable measure be imparted to us,
that we may appear not altogether unlike or unworthy of him ;
that this temple and ours are of the same make, and " both he
that sanctifieth, and they that are sanctified, are all of one ;"
that we so far agree with our original, that he may not be
ashamed to call us brethren, Heb. 2. And how aptly doth this
tend to excite and raise our hope of some great thing to be ef-
fected in this kind in us, when we have the matter thus ex-
emplified already before our eyes, and do behold the exact
and perfect model according whereto we ourselves are to be
framed. JVor doth that signify a little to the drawing of our
wills, or the engaging us to a consent and co-operation, as
the under-builders, in the work of this temple. A design that
in itself appears advantageous, needs no more to set it on foot,
than that it be represented hopeful. No one, that understands
any thing of the nature of man, is ignorant of the power of
hope. This one engine moves the world, and keeps all men
busy. Every one soon finds his present state not perfectly good,
and hopes some way to make it better ; otherwise, the world
were a dull scene. Endeavour would languish, or rather be
none at all : for there were no room left for design, or a rational
CHAP. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. S51
enterprising of any thing ; but a lazy unconcerned trifling, with-
out care which end goes forward, and with an utter indifFe-
rency whether to stir or sit still. Men are not, in their other
designs, without hope, but their hope is placed upon things
of no value ; and when they have gained the next thing they
hoped for and pursued, they are as far still as they were
from what they meant that for. They have obtained their
nearer end, but therein mistook their way, which they design-
ed by it, to their further end. When they have attained to
be rich, yet they are not happy : perhaps much further from
it than before. When they have preyed upon the pleasure
they had in chase, they are still unsatisfied ; it may be, guilty
reflections turn it all to gall and wormwood. Many such dis-
appointments might make them consider, at length, they have
been out all this while, and mistaken the whole nature and
kind of the good that must make them happy. They may
come to think with themselves, Somewhat is surely lacking,
not only to our present enjoyment, but to our very design :
somewhat it must be without the compass of all our former
thoughts, wherein our satisfying good must lie. God may
come into their minds ; and they may cry out, Oh ! that is it;
here it was I mistook, and had forgot myself. Man once had
a God I and that God had his temple, wherein he resided,
and did converse with man : hither he must be invited back.
Yea, but his temple lies all in ruin, long ago deserted and
disused, forsaken upon provocation, and with just resentment ;
the ruin to be repaired by no mortal hand ; the wrong done to
be expiated by no ordinary sacrifice. All this imports nothing
but despair. But let now the Immanuel be brought in ; this
original Temple be offered to view, and the design and in-
tent of it be unfolded and laid open, and what a spring of
hope is here ! Or what can nofa be wanting to persuade a
wretched soul of God's willingness to return ? Or, being now
sensible of his misery by his absence, to make it willing of his
return ; yea, and to contribute the utmost endeavour that all
things may be prepared and put into due order for his re-
ception ? Or if any thing should be still wanting, it is but
what may more work upon desire, as well as beget hope : and
to this purpose, a narrower view of this original Temple also
serves ; that is, it not only shews the possibility, but gives us
opportunity to contemplate,
Secondly, The loveliness too of such a temple. For here is the
fairest representation that ever this world had, or that could
be had, of this most delectable object. The divine holiness
352 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II,
incarnate did never shine so bright. And wc may easily ap»
prehend the great advantage of having so lively and perfect
a model set before ns of what we are to design and aim at.
Rules and precepts could never have afforded so full a descrip-
tion, or have furnished us with so perfect, an idea. He that
goes to build a house, must have the project formed in his
mind before ; and (as hath been said) he is to make a mate-
rial house of an immaterial. So here, we may say the real
house is to be built out of the mental or notional one. It is
true indeed, when we have got into our minds the true and full
idea or model of this temple, our greatest difficulty is not yet
over : how happy were it, if the rest of our work would a»
soon be done, and our hearts would presently obey our light !
If they were ductile, and easy to yield, and receive the stamp
and impression that would correspond to a well enlightened
mind ; if we could presently become conform and like to the
notions we have of what wc should be ; if on the sudden our
spirits did admit the habitual, fixed frame of holiness, whereof
we sometimes have the idea framed in our minds, what ex-
cellent creatures should we appear ! But though to have that
model truly formed in our understandings be not sufficient, it
is however necessary ; and although our main work is not
immediately done by it, it can never be done without it. Truth
is the means of holiness : " Sanctify them through thy truth,"
John 17. 17. God hath chosen us to salvation, through
sanctification of the Spirit and belief of the truth, SThes. 2.13.
Therefore it is our great advantage to have the most entire
and full notion that may be, of that temper and frame of spirit
we should be of. When the charge was given Moses of com-
posing the tabernacle, (that moveable temple,) he had the per-
fect pattern of it shewn him in the mount. And to receive the
very notion aright of this spiritual living temple, requires a
some-way prepared mind, purged from vicious prejudice and
perverse thoughts, possessed with dislike of our former pol-
lutions and deformities ; antecedent whereto is a more general
view of that frame whereunto we are to be composed, and Ihen
a more distinct representation is consequent thereon. As we
find the prophet is directed first to shew the people the house,
that they might be ashamed ; whereupon it follows, if they
be ashamed of all that they have done, then he must shew them
the form of the house, and the fashion thereof, and the goings
out thereof, and (he comings in thereof, and all the ordinances
thereof, Ezek. 4S. 10, 11. How much would it conduce
to the work and service of God's temple in, us, if upon our
4
CHAP. Y. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 353
having had some general intimation of his gracious propen-
»ions towards us, to repair our ruins, and restore our forlorn,
decayed state, we begin to lament after him, and conceive in-
ward resentments of the impurities and desolations of our souls :
and shall now have the distinct representation set before our
eyes, of that glorious workmanship which he means to express
in our renovation ! How taking and transporting a sight will
this be to a soul that is become vile and loathsome in its own
eyes, and weary of being as without God in the world ! But
now, wherein shall he be understood to give us so exact an ac-
count of his merciful intendments and design in this matter, as
by letting us see how his glory shone in his own incarnate Son,
his express Image ; and then signifying his pleasure and pur-
pose to have us conformed to the same image. This is his
most apt and efficacious method, when he goes about to raise
his new creation, and erect his inner temple ; (as it was, in some
respect, his way, when he made his first great outer temple of
the world ;) "God, that commanded light to shine out of dark-
ness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the know-
ledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ,'' 2 Cor. 4.
That glory shines with greatest advantage to our transforma-
tion, in the face or aspect of Immanuel. When we set our
faces that way, and our eye meets his, we put ourselves into a
purposed posture of intuition, and do steadily look to Jesus ;
" when we, with open face, behold as in a glass the glory of
the Lord, we are changed from glory to glory, as by the Spirit
of the Lord," 2 Cor. 3. His very Spirit enters with those vital
beams ; enters at our eye, and is thence transfused through our
whole soul.
The seed and generative principle of the new creature is
truth ; "Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but incor-
ruptible, the word of God," 1 Peter 1. 23. We must un-
derstand it of practical truth, or that which serves to shew what
we are to be and do, (ch. 2. 1 — 4.) in our new and regene-
rate state. Hereby souls are begotten to God, hereby they
live and grow, hereby they come and join as living stones
to the living Corner-stone, in the composition of this spiri-
tual house : as we see the series of discourse runs in this
context. Now we have this practical truth, not only ex-
hibited in aphorisms and maxims in the word, but we have
it exemplified in the life of Christ. And when the great re-
novating work is to be done, the old man to be put oil', the new
man to be put on, the spirit of our mind to be renewed, our
business is to learn Christ, and the truth as it is in Jesus :
VOL.1. 2 z
354 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II*
(Epb. 4. 20 — 24.) so is accomplished the formation of that new
man that is after God. And when we become his (second) work-
manship, we are created in Christ, Jesns unto good works ;
caught into union with that Spirit, which shewed itself in the
whole course of his conversation on earth, and is gradually to
work and form us to an imitation of him. \V hereunto we are
not formed by mere looking on, or by our own contemplation
only of his life and actions, on the one hand : (our rigid hard-
ness and stiff aversion to such a temple and course as his was,
are not so easily altered and overcome :) nor, on the other hand,
is our looking on useless and in vain, as if we were to be formed,
like mere stones, into dead unmoving statues, rather than
living temples ; or as if his Spirit were to do that work upon
us, by a violent hand, while Ave know nothing of the matter,
nor any way comply to the design. But the work must be
done by the holding up the representation of this primftrj/ tem-
ple before our eyes, animated and replenished with divine life
and glory, as our pattern, and the type by which we are to bo
formed, till our hearts be captivated and won to the love and
liking of such a state ; that is, to be so united with God, so
devoted to him, so stamped and impressed with all imitable
Godlike excellencies, as he was : we are to be so enamoured
herewith, as to be impatient of remaining what we were before.
And such a view contributed directly hereto, and in a way
suitable to our natures. Mere transient discourses of virtue and
goodness, seem cold and unsavoury things to a soul drenched
in sensuality, sunk into deep forgetfulness of God, and filled
with aversion to holiness : but the tract and course of a life
evenly transacted, in the power of the Holy Ghost, and that
is throughout uniform, and constantly agreeable to itself, is
apt, by often repeated insinuations, (as drops wear stones,) in-
sensibly to recommend itself as amiable, and gain a liking even
with them that were most opposite and disaffected, for the
nature of man, in its most degenerate state, is not wholly des-
titute of the notions of virtue and goodness, nor of some faint
approbation of them. The names of sincerity, humility, so-
briety, meekness, are of better sound and import, even with
the worst of men, than of deceit, pride, riot, and wrathfui-
ness : nor are they wont to accuse any for those former things,
under their own names. Only when they see the broken and
more imperfect appearances of them, and that they are rather
offered at than truly and constantly represented in practice ;
this begets a prejudice, and the pretenders to them become
suspected of hypocrisy, or a conceited singularity, and are
dlAT. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 355
not censured as not being grossly evil, but rather that they are
not thoroughly good. But when so unexceptionable a course
is in constant view as our Saviour's was, this procures, even
from (lie ruder vulvar, an acknowledgment that he dolh all
tii ings well, and carries that lustre and awful majesty, as to
command a veneration and respect ; yea, is apt to allure those
that more narrowly observe into a real love both of him and
his way ; especially when it hath such a close and issue, as
appear no way unworthy of himself, or his former pretensions.
But all being taken together, resolves into the plainest demon-
stration of most sincere devotedness to God, and good- will to
men; upon which the great stress is laid: "And I, if I be
lift up, will draw all men unto me." And how great a thing
is done towards our entire compliance with the Redeemer's de-
sign of making us temples to the living God, as he himself
was, when he, under that very notion, appears amiable in our
eyes! How natural and easy is imitation unto love! All the
powers of the sou! are now, in the most natural way, excited
and set on work ; and we shall not easily be induced to satisfy
ourselves, or admit of being at rest, till we attain a state, with
the loveliness whereof our hearts are once taken and possessed
beforehand. But nothing of all this is said with design, nor
hath any tendency, to diminish or detract from that mighty
power of the blessed Spirit of God, by whom men become
willing of the return of the divine presence into its ancient
residence, and, in subordination, active towards it ; but rather
to magnify the excellency of that wisdom, which conducts all
the exertions and operations of that power so suitably to the
subject to be wrought upon, and the ends and purposes to be
effected thereby.
Upon the whole, the setting up of this original temple, inscribed
with the great name Immanuel, or the whole constitution of
Christ the Mediator, hath, Ave see, a very apparent aptitude
and rich sufficiency in its kind, to the composing of things
between God and men ; the replenishing this desolate world
with temples again every where, and those with the divine
presence ; both as there was enough in it to procure remission
of sin, enough to procure the emission of the Holy Spirit : an
immense fulness both of righteousness and Spirit ; of righte-
ousness for the former purpose, and of Spirit for the latter : and
both jof these, in distinct ways, capable of being imparted;
because the power of imparting them was upon such terms ol>-
tained, as did satisfy the malediction and curse of the violated
lav,\ which must otherwise have everlastingly withheld both
356 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
from apostate, offending- creatures. It is not the righteousness
of God, as such, that can make a guilty creature guiltless,
(which must rather oblige him still to hold him guilty,) or the
Spirit of God, as suck, that can make him holy. Here is a
full fountain, but sealed and shut up ; and what are we the bet-
ter for that ? But it is the righteousness and Spirit of Immanuel,
God with us ; of him who was made sin for us, that we might
be made the righteousness of God in him ; and who was made
a curse for us, that we might have the blessing of the promised
Spirit ; otherwise, there were not in him a sufficiency to answer
the exigency of the case ; but as the matter is, here is abundant
sufficiency in both respects, as Ave have already seen. And
therefore, the only thing that remains to be shewn herein, — is
the necessity and requisiteness of such means as this, unto this
end. For when we take notice of so great and so rare a thing
as an lmmanuel, set up in the world ; and find by this solemn
constitution of him, by the condition of his person, his ac-
complishments, performances, sufferings, acquisitions, the
powers and virtues belonging to him, that every thing hath
so apt an aspect, and is so accommodate to the restitution of
lost man, and of God's temple in and with him ; we cannot
but confess, here is a contrivance worthy of God, sufficient
for its end. So that the work needs not fail of being done, if
in this way it prove not to be overdone ; or if the apparatus be
not greater 'than was need fill for the intended end ; or that the
same purposes might not have been effected at an easier rate.
I design therefore to speak distinctly and severally of the ne*
cessity of this course, in reference to the remission of sin, and
to the emission or communication of the Spirit : and do pur-
posely reserve several things concerning this latter, to be dis*
coursed under this head : after the necessity of this same course
for the former purpose (wherein the latter also hath its faunda*
tion) hath been considered.
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 357
CHAP. VI.
I. An objection supposed. II. The subject of the preceding chapter
continued: and, Secondly, The neces sity of this constitution of lmma-
nuel to the erecting God's temple in the world. The discoursing of
this matter, proper on this occasion. 1. As to God's part herein, it is
proposed to shew, (1.) That a recompense was necessary to be made •
and, (fc) That it could be made no other way. Towards the evincing
the former, [1.] Sundry things are gradually laid down. [2.] The
point itself argued, by comparing the injury done to the divine, with
what we may suppose clone to a human government, where, First, Re-
pentance not constantly thought a sufficient recompense ; otherwise, a
penitent delinquent was never to be punished. Secondly, Difference
between God's pardon and man's in most usual cases. A comparative
view of the curse of the law and the blessing of the gospel. Thirdly,
Recompense for wrong done to government, quite another thing from
what answers the appetite of private revenge. Fourthly, Expressions
that seem to import it in God, how to be understood. Fifthly, Shewn
that they import no more than a constant will so far to punish of-
fences, as is necessary for the asserting and preserving the rights and
dignity of his government. Sixthly, So much most agreeable, and
necessarily belonging to the perfection of the divine nature. Seventhly,
And if the justice of a human government requires it, of the divine
much more.
I. TTT may here perhaps be said, Why might not the matter
I have been otherwise brought about? Or, might not
God of his mere sovereignty have remitted the wrong done to
him, without any such atonement ; and, upon the same ac-
count, have sent forth his Spirit to turn men's hearts ? And if
that must work by arguments and rational persuasives, were
there no others to have been used, sufficient to this purpose,
though the Son of God had never become man, or died upon
this account ? That to use means exceeding the value of the
end, may seem as unsuitable to the divine wisdom, as not to
have used sufficient. And who can think the concernments of
silly worms impossible to be managed, and brought to a fair and
happy issue, without so great things as the incarnation and death
of God's own Son ?
II, The subject of the preceding chapter is therefore con-
tinued, in which we proceed to shew, as was promised,
358 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART IT.
Second!?/, The necessity, as the case stood, that this course
should be taken for this end. No man can here think we mean
that the end itself was otherwise necessary, than as the freest
love and good-will made it so ; but that supposed, we are only
to evince that this course was the necessary means to attain it.
And as to this, if indeed that modesty and reverence Avere
every where to be found, wherewith it would become dim-
sighted man to judge of the ways of God, any inquiry of
tins kind might be forborn ; and it would be enough to put us
out of doubt, that this was the most equal and fittest way, that
we see it is the way which God hath taken. But that cross
temper hath found much place in the world, rather to dispute
God*s methods, than comport with them, in an obedient thank-
ful compliance and subserviency to their intended ends. And
how deeply is it to be resented, that so momentous a thing- in
the religion of Christians, and that above all other should be
the subject and incentive of admiring, devout thoughts and
affections, should ever have been made intricate and perplexed
by disputation ! That the food of life should have been rilled
with thorns and gravel ! And what was most apt to beget good
blood, and turn all to strength, vigour, and spirit, should be
rendered the matter of a disease ! This can never enough be
taken to heart. What complaints might the tortured, famish-
ed church of Christ send up against the ill instruments of so
great a mischief ! " Lord ! we asked bread, and they gave us
a stone. They have spoiled the provisions of thy house. Our
pleasantest fare, most delicious and strengthening viands, they
have made tasteless and unsavoury." What expostulations
might it use with them ! " Will you not let us live ? Can no-
thing in our religion be so sacred, so important, as to escape
your perverting hands ?"
The urgency of the case itself permits not that this matter
be silently passed over : a living temple needs the apt means
of nourishment and growth ; and it must be nourished and
grow, by what is suitable to its constitution : unto which
nothing is more inward, than the laying this " living Corner-
stone."
We will acknowledge that the reasons of divers things in
God's determinations and appointments may be very deeply
hidden, not only from our more easy view, but our most dili-
gent search: where they are, his telling us, the matter is so,
or so, is reason enough to us to believe with reverence. But
when they offer themselves, we need not be afraid to see them ;
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 359
and when the matter they concern is brought in question,
should be afraid of being- so treacherous as not to produce
them.
Now that it was requisite this temple should be so founded
as haih been said, is a matter not only not repugnant to the
common reason of man, but which fairly approves itself there-
unto : that is, so far as that though it exceed all human
thought, the great Lord of heaven and earth, infinitely injured
by the sin of man, should so wonderfully condescend ; yt.
when his good pleasure is plainly expressed, touching the end,
that nothing could be so apparently congruous, so worthy of
himself, so accommodate to his design, as the way which he
hath avowedly taken to bring it about. That it might be
brought about, (as in all reconciliations, and as hath been said
concerning this,) a compliance was necessary, and a mutual
yielding of both the distanced parties ; that is, that God con-
sent to return to his desolate temple, and that man consent or be
willing he should.
We have shewn that the eonstitution and use of the original
temple, whereof the account hath been given, was sufficient, and
aptly conducing unto both. Now being to shew wherein they
were also requisite or necessary to the one and the other, we
must acknowledge them not alike immediately necessary to
each of these; and must therefore divide the things in order
whereto this course was taken, and speak of them severally.
Nor are they to be so divided, as though the procurement
of God's return for his part, and of man's admitting thereof
for his part, were throughout to be severally considered ; for
God's part is larger than man's, and someway runs into it :
he is not only to give his own consent, but to gain man's ; and
besides his own willing return to repossess this his temple, he
is to make man willing also : or rather that return or reposses-
sion, rightly understood, will be found to include the making
of man willing ; that is, in that very return and repossession,
he is to put forth that measure of power and influence, by which
he may be made so. AH this is God's part, which he doth
graciously undertake, and Avithout which nothing could be
effected in this matter. But then because man is to be wrought
upon in a way suitable to his reasonable nature, he is to have
such things offered to his consideration, as in their own nature
tend to persuade him ; and which that power and spirit, to be
put forth, may use as proper means to that purpose. Now it
is man's part to consider such things, and consent thereupon.
Our business here, therefore, is to shew how necessary the
360 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
constitution of Immamiel was, chiefly and principally as to
what now appears to be God's part : and afterward, to say
somewhat as to our own. — To the former, it was requisite that
the Original Temple, Immanuel, should be set up, and be
used to such immediate purposes as have been expressed :
to the latter, was requisite the declaration hereof. — To the one,
(hat such a constitution should be ; to the other, that it be made
known to man.
1. In reference to God, this constitution was necessary, that
so there might be a sufficient means for the previous expiation
of the offence done to the divine majesty ; or that the injurious
Tiolation of his sacred rights might be sufficiently recompensed.
And here, more particularly, two things are to be cleared ;
namely, that in order to God's return, it was necessary such
a full recompense should be made him ; and that it could not
be full any other way than this, by Immanuel. In discoursing
of which things, it is not intended to go in the usual way of
controversy, to heap up a great number of arguments, and
discuss particularly every little cavil that may be raised on
the contrary part ; but plainly to offer such considerations as
may tend to clear the truth, and rather prevent than formally
answer objections against if. Wherefore we say,
(I.) It was necessary God's return and vouchsafement of his
gracious restored presence to man, as his temple, should be
upon terms of recompense made him (or as certain to be made)
for the indignity and wrong done in the former violation thereof.
Towards the evincing of which,
[l.J Several things are gradually laid down. We do not
here need to be curious in inquiring, whether the consideration
of this recompense to be made, had influence on the gracious
purpose of God in this matter, or only on the execution thereof.
Nor indeed hath the doubt any proper ground in the present
case, which, where it hath disquieted the minds of any, seems
to have proceeded from our too great aptness to measure God by
ourselves, and prescribe to him the same methods we ourselves
are wont to observe. That is, we find it is our way, when we
have a design to bring about, upon which we are intent, first
to propound the end to ourselves which we would have effect-
ed, then to deliberate and consult by what means to effect it :
whereupon, we assign to the blessed God the same course.
But to him, all his works are known from the beginning of the
world : and he ever beheld, at one view, the whole tract and
course of means whereby any thing is to be done, which he in-
tends with the intended end itself. So that we have no reason
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 561
to affix to him any thought or purpose of favour towards the
sinful sons of men, ancienter or more early than his prospect
of the way wherein that favourable purpose was to be accom-
plished.
Nor again can any act or purpose of his towards his crea-
tures be otherwise necessary to him, than from the essential
rectitude of the counsels of his own will; the determinations
whereof are such as might not have been, or might have
been otherwise, where the thing determined was, by those mea-
sures, a matter of indifferency. Where it was not so, they
are (however necessary, yet also) in that sense most free ; as
they are directed and approved by his infinite wisdom, and at-
tended with that complacency which naturally accompanies any
act or purpose that is in itself most unexceptionabiy congruous,
just, and good.
It may furthermore be truly said, that nothing ought to be
reckoned possible to him, upon the agreement only which it
holds to some one attribute of his, considered singly and apart
from all the rest : as, for instance, in what is next our present
case, to forgive all the sins that ever were committed against
him, without insisting upon any compensation, were vainly al-
leged to be correspondent to boundless sovereign mercy, if it
will not as well accord with infinite wisdom, justice, and holi-
ness ; as it would be unreasonably said to be agreeable enough
to him, to throw all the creatures that never offended him into
an endless nothingness, in consideration only of the absolute-
ness of his power and dominion. But whatsoever he can do,
must be understood to be agreeable to a Being absolutely and
every way perfect.
Moreover we add, that whatsoever is most congruous and fit
for him to do, that is truly necessary to him : he cannot swerve
in the least tittle, we will not only say from what strict and ri-
gorous justice doth exact and challenge, but also not from
what is requisite, under the notion of most comely and decent.
Hath it been said of a mortal man, that it was as easy to alter
the course of the sun, as to turn him from the path of righte-
ousness ? We must suppose it of the eternal God equally im-
possible that he should be diverted from, or ever omit to do,
what is most seemly becoming, and worthy of himself. In such
things wherein he is pleased to be our pattern, what we know
to be our own duty, we must conclude is his nature : we ought
to be found neither in an unjust act or omission, nor undecent
one ; and he cannot. And if it belong to us to do what is good,
it more necessarily belongs to him to do what is best j that is, in
VOL. I. 3 A
562 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART IT.
all things that are any way capable of coining under a moral
consideration : for as in other matters it is permitted to ns to act
arbitrarily, so there is nothing hinders but he may much more.
Wherefore it is not hence to be thought that therefore it was
necessary this universe and every thing in it should have been
made as perfect as they could be : as if we ourselves will make
any thing for our own use, nothing obliges us to be so very
curious about it, as that it may be as neat and accurate as we
can devise to make it ; it will suffice if it be such as will serve
our turn. And indeed, in the works of nature, it would have
been less worthy of God to have expressed a scrupulous curi-
osity that nothing might ever fall out besides one fixed rule,
(especially in a state of things designed for no long continu-
ance,) that should extend to all imaginable particularities ; as
that all men should be of the cpmcliest stature, all faces of the
most graceful aspect, with md the like. _ But in mat-
ters wherein there can be better ()SpW|e, in a moral sense, it
seems a principle of the plainest efidcipp|Hhal the blessed God
cannot but do that which is simply the best ; yea, while a
necessity is upon us not only to mind tilings that are true, and
just, and pure, but also that are lovely and of good report,
We have no cause to doubt, but whatsoever is comely, and be-
seeming his most perfect excellencies, is an eternal, indispen-
sable law to him : wherefore it is not enough to consider, in the
present case, what it were strictly not unjust for him to do, but
what is fit and becoming so excellent and glorious a majesty
as his.
Nor now can it be a doubt, but that he only is the competent
Judge of what is becoming and worthy of himself; or what is
most congruous and lit in itself to be done; (Isa. 40.) " Who
hath directed the Spirit of the Lord, or being his counsellor,
hath instructed him ?" &c. Surely the best reason Ave can ex-
ercise in this case, is to think that course reasonable which Ave
iind God hath chosen, although we had no insight at all into
the matter. There are many constitutions which we have oc-
casion + o observe in the course of God's government over the
world, which, by the constancy of them, we have ground to
think founded in indispensable necessity : though the reasons
whereupon they are necessary, are most deeply latent and hid-
den from us. Not to speak of the abstruser paths and methods
of nature, wherein while we observe a constancy, ^et perhaps Ave
apprehend it might have been some other way as well : perhaps
it might, but it is more than we know. And though, as hath
been said, Ave have reason to suppose that the Avays God
CHAr. vi. Tin: living temple. 363
Iiafh taken in matters of this sort maybe more absolutely arbi-
trary, yet the constant iteration of the same thing, or continua-
tion of the ancient settled course, shews the peremploriness of
the Creator's counsel, and seents to carry with it an implied
rebuke of our ignorant rashness, in thinking if might as well
be otherwise ; and a stiff asserting of his determinations against
us. There are none so well studied naturalists, as to be able
to give a rational account why it is so, and so, in many in-
stances ; wherein they may yet discern the inflexibleness of
nature, and perceive her methods to be as unalterable as they
are unaccountable. It is true, this is obvious to be seen by
any eye, that where things are well, as they are, constancy
doth belter than innovation or change ; but it very much be-
comes human modesty, to suppose that there may, in many
cases, be other reasons to justify the present course, which Ave
see not. But we may, with more advantage, consider the fix-
edness of* that order which God hath set unto the course of his
dispensation towards his intelligent creatures, wherein we shall
only instance in some few particulars,
As, first, that there is so little discernible commerce, in the
present state, between the superior rank of these creatures and
the inferior. That whereas we stre well assured there are in-
telligent creatures, which inhabit not. earthly bodies like ours,
but hold an agreement with us in greater tilings ; they yet ,'jo rarely
converse with us. When we consider, that such of them as remain
innocent, and such of us as are, by divine mercy, recovered out of
a state of apostasy, are all subject to the same common Lord ; ob-
serve the more substantial things of the same law ; have all the
same common end ; are actuated by the same principle of love,
devotedness, and zeal for the interest and honour of the great
Maker and Lord of all things. We are all to make up one
community with them, and be associates in the same future
blessed state; yet they have little intercourse with us — they
shun our sight. If sometimes they appear, it is -by transient,
hasty glances : they are strangely shy and. reserved towards
us ; they check our inquiries ; put us, and appear to be them-
selves, in reference thereto, under awful restraints. We know
not the reason of all this : sometimes we may think with our-
selves, those pure and holy spirits cannot but be full of kind-
ness, benignity, and love, and concerned for us poor mortals,
whom they see put to tug and conflict with many difficulties
and calamities ; abused by the cunning malice of their and
our enemy ; imposed upon by the illusions of our own senses.
How easily might they make many useful discoveries to us 5
S64t THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
relieve our ignorance in many things ; acquaint us more ex-
pressly with the state of things in the other world ; rectify our
dark or mistaken apprehensions, concerning many both re-
ligious and philosophical matters ! But they refrain, and we
know not why.
Again, that in the days of our Saviour's converse on earth,
there should be so strange a connexion, as to them on whom he
wrought miraculous cures, between the divine power and their
faith ; so that sometimes we find it expressly said, " He could
do no mighty work, because of their unbelief."
And we lastly instance, in the fixedness of that course which
God hath set for making known to the world the contents of
the gospel of Christ : so that little is ever done therein, im-!
mediately, or by extraordinary means. The apostle Paul is
stopped in the career of his persecution, by an amazing voice
and vision ; but he is left for instruction as to his future course,
to Ananias. Unto Cornelius an angel is sent, not to preach the
gospel, but to direct him to send for Peter for that purpose.
The Lord doth not immediately himself instruct the Eunuch
in the faith of Christ, but directs Philip to do it. And ex-
perience shews, that (according to the rule set in that case,
Horn. 10.) where they have no preachers, they have no gospel.
Now as to all these cases, and many more that might be
thought on, can it be said it would have been unjust, if God
had ordered the matter otherwise than he hath ? That, we
cannot so much as imagine ; nor are we to think the matter
determined as it is, in all such cases, by mere Mill and plea-
sure, without a reason ; which were an imagination altogether
unworthy the supreme wisdom : but that there are reasons of
mighty force and weight, or certain congruities, in the natures
of things themselves, obvious to the divine understanding,
which do either wholly escape ours, or whereof we have but
very shallow, dark, conjectural apprehensions ; as he that saw
men as trees, or as some creatures of very acute sight per-
ceive what to us seems invisible. And yet those occult and
hidden reasons and congruities have been the foundation of
constitutions and laws that hold things more steadily than ada-
mantine bands, and are of more stability than the foundations
of heaven and earth.
Furthermore, it is to be considered that the rights of the di-
vine government ; the quality and measure of offences com-
mitted against it, and when or upon what terms they may be
remitted ; or in what case it may be congruous to the dignity
of that government to recede from such rights ; are matters of
3
CHAP. TI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. §65
so high a nature, that it becomes us to be very sparing in mak-
ing an estimate about them ; especially a more diminishing one
than the general strain of Scripture seems to hold forth. Even
among men, how sacred things are majesty and the rights of
government, and how much above the reach of a vulgar judg-
ment ! Suppose a company of peasants, that understand little
more than what is within the compass of their mattock, plough,
and shovel, should take upon them to judge of the rights of
their prince, and make an estimate of the measure of offences
committed against the majesty and dignity of government ; how
competent judges would we think them ? And will we not ac-
knowledge the most refined human understanding as incompe-
tent to judge of the rights of the divine government, or mea-
sure the injuriousness of an offence done against it, as the
meanest peasant to make an estimate of these matters in a human
government? If only the reputation be wronged of a person
of better quality, how strictly is it insisted on to have the mat-
ter tried by peers, or persons of equal rank ; such as are
capable of understanding honour and reputation ! Hoav would
it be resented, if an affront put upon a nobleman should be
committed to the judgment of smiths and coolers; especially
if they were participes criminis — sharers in the crime, and as
well parties as judges ?
When the regalia of the great Ruler and Lord of heaven
and earth are invaded, his temple violated, his presence de-
spised, his image torn down thence and defaced ; who among
the sons of men are either great, or knowing, or innoce.-it
enough, to judge of the offence and wrong, or how fit, it is
that it be remitted without recompense, or what recompense
would be proportionable ? How supposable is it, that there
may be congruities in this matter obvious to the divine under-
standing, which infinitely exceed the measure of ours ?
[2.] And yet, because God speaks to us about these mat-
ters, and they are our own concernments, as being of the of-
fending parties, it is necessary we apply our minds to under-
stand them, and possible to us to attain to a true, though not
to a full, understanding 01 them. And though we can never
fully comprehend in our own thoughts the horror of the case,
that reasonable creatures, made after God's image, so highly
favoured by him, capable of blessedness in him, uncapable of
it any other way, should have arrived to that pitch of wicked-
ness towards him, and unnaturalness towards themselves, as to
say to him, " Depart from us," and cut themselves off from
.him ; though we may sooner lose ourselves in the contempla-
S0,6 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART IT.
f ion, and be overwhelmed by our own thoughts, than ever see
through the monstrous evil of this defection, yet we may soon
tee it incomparably to transcend the measure of any offence
ih:\t ran ever be done by one creature against another, or of
the most scandalous affront the meanest, the vilest, the most
ungrateful, ill-natured wretch could have devised to put upon
the greatest, the most benign, and best deserving prince the
world ever knew. And if we can suppose an offence of that
kind may be of so heinous a nature, and so circumstanced as
that it cannot be congruous it should be remitted without some
reparation made to the majesty of the prince, and compensa-
tion for the • caudal done to government, it is easy to suppose
It much more incongi nous it should be so in the present case.
Yen, and as it am never be thought congruous that such an
offence against a human governor should be pardoned without
the intervening repentance of the delinquent, so we may easily
apprehend also the case to be such as that it cannot be fit it
should be pardoned upon that alone, without other recompense :
wneteofif any should doubt, I would demand, Ts it in any
case tit ihi\t a penitent delinquent against human laws and go-
vernment should be punished, or a proportionable recompense
be exacted for his offence, notwithstanding? Surely it will
be acknowledged ordinarily fit : and who would take upon him
to be the censor of the common justice of the world in all such
cases; or to damn the proceedings of all times and nations
wheresoever a penitent offender hath been made to suffer the
legal punishment of his offence, notwithstanding his repent-
ance ?
First, How strange a maxim of government would that be,
That ii is never fit an offender, of whatsoever kind, should be
punished, if he repent himself of his offence! And surely if
ever in any case somewhat else than repentance- be fitly insisted
on as a recompense for the violation of the sacred rights of
government, it, may well be supposed to be so in the case of
man's common delinquency and revolt from God, much more.
Secondly, [Tn'tb which purpose it is further to be consider-
ed, that in this case the matter is much otherwise between God
and man, than for the most part between a secular prince and
a delinquent subject ; that is, that pardon, be it ever so ple-
nary, doth, as pardon, no more than restore the delinquent
into as good a condition as he was in before. But what was,
for the most part, the case before of delinquent subjects ? There
are very few that were before the prince's favourites, his inti-
mate associates and friends, with whom he was wont familiarly
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 36?
to converse. Very often the condition of tire offender was such
before, that his pardon only saves him from the gallows ; letat
him. live, and cnjoj r only the poor advantages of his former
mean condition ; and not always- that neither : yea, or if he
were one whose higher « had en-
titled him to a attendance on the person of the .prince,
i daily, inward conversation v it is possible he
might -he pardi nutation as to his life, or it may- be,
further, to his nt being restored to the honours and
offices about the per; the prince, which he held only bj?
royal favour : for though princely compassion might extend
so far as to let liis offence be expiated by less than his utter
ruin, yet also his prudent respect to the dignity of his go ,
ment might not admit that a person under public infamy should
have the liberty of his presence, intermingle with his councils,
or be dignified with more special marks of his favour and kind-
ness. Whereas in the resti f man, inasmuch us before
he was the temple and residence of the great King, where he
afforded his most inward, gracious presence, the design is to
restore him into the same capacity, and to as good condition
as he was in before in these respects : yea, and not only so,
but unspeakably to better his case, to take him much nearer
to himself than ever, and into a more exalted state, la order
whereto, it was the more highly congruous that his offence be
done away by a most perfect, unexceptionable expiation ; that
so high and great an advancement of the most heinous offen-
ders, might not be brought about upon other terms than should
well accord with the majesty of his government over the world.
Here, therefore, let a comparative view be taken of the
fearful malediction and curse of God's law upon the transgres-
sors of it, and of the copious blessing of the gospel : that
thereupon we may the more clearly judge how improbable it
was there should be so vast a difference and translation between
two so distant states, without atonement made for transgression
of so high demerit, and so deeply resented.
As to the former, we are in the general told, (Gal. 3.) that
Ci cursed is every one that continues not in all things written in
the book of the law, to do them." Astonishing thing! That
he should, curse me, who made me ! That my being, and a
curse upon me, should proceed from the word and breath of
the same sacred mouth ! Of how terrible import is his curse I
To be made an anathema, separate and cut off from God, and
from all the dutiful and loyal part of his creation ! Driven
368 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
forth from 1) is delightful presence! In the same breath, it is
said to be the loathed wretch, Depart — accursed ! To be re-
duced to the condition of a vagabond on the earth, not know-
ing whither to go ! Naked of divine protection from any vio-
lent hand ; yea, marked out for the butt of the sharpest ar-
rows of his own indignation! How voluminous and extensive
is his curse ! reaching to all one's concernments in both worlds,
temporal and eternal, of outward and inward man. To be
cursed in one's basket and store, in the city and field, ingoing
out and coming in ! Especially to have all God's curses and
plagues meeting and centering in one's very heart, to be there
smitten with blindness, madness, and astonishment ! How effica-
cious is tli is curse ! Not a faint, impotent wishing ill to a man,
but under which he really wastes, and which certainly blasts,
withers, and consumes him, and even turns his very blessings
into curses ! How closely adhering, as a garment wherewith
he is clothed, and as a girdle with which he is girt continually!
How secretly and subtly insinuating, as water into his bowels,
and oil into his bones! And how deservedly doth it befal !
The curse causeless shall not come ; this can never be without
a. cause. If another curse me, it shews he hates me; if the
righteous God do so, it signifies me to be in myself a hateful
creature, a son and heir, not of peace, but of wrath and a
curse. And the effect must be of equal permanency with its
cause ; so as that God is angry with the wicked every day,
and rains upon them fire and brimstone, and a horrible tempest,
as the' portion of their cup ; indignation and wrath, tribulation
and anguish, upon every soul of man that does evil, and con-
tinually growing into a treasure, against the day of wrath.
View, on the other hand, the copious, abundant blessing
contained and conveyed in the gospel. It is a call to blessing,
that we may inherit a blessing : it discovers a state begun with
the blessedness of having iniquity forgiven ; a course, under a
continued blessing, of meditating on the word of God with de-
light, day and night ; of being undefined in the way : gives
characters of the subjects of blessings showered down from the
mouth of Christ on the poor in spirit, pure in heart, the meek,
merciful, &c. : aims at making them nigh, that were afar oif ;
taking them into God's own family and household ; making
them friends, favourites, domestics, sons, and daughters ; en-
gaging them in a fellowship with the Father and Son : yet
were all these the children of wrath, by nature. Whence is
this change ? A regression became not the majesty of heaven.
CHAP. YI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 369
God's original constitution, that connected sin and the curse,
was just: he abides by it, reverses it not. To have reversed
it, was not to have judged the offenders, but himself: but
having- a mind to shew men mercy, he provides for the expia-
tion of sin, and salving the rights of his government, another
way — by transferring guilt and the curse, not nulling them.
Thirdly, V/hcreupon, Ave may also see what made atone-
ment for sin so fundamental to a design of grace ; the magni-
fying the divine law ; (Isa. 42. 21.) the asserting the equity
and righteousness of the supreme government ; not, as some
odiously suggest, the gratifying of what, witli us, is wont to
go for a private appetite of revenge, from which the support
of the honour and dignity of the government is most remote :
yea, it were horrid to suppose that any such thing can have
place with the blessed God, which is one of the most odious
things in the disposition of lapsed, degenerate man — an apt-
ness to take complacency in the pains, and anguish of such as
have offended us ; unto which purpose, how feelingly would
a malicious, ill-minded man, oftentimes utter the sense of his
heart, and say, O the sweetness of revenge ! So black a thought
of God will be most remote from every pious breast, or that is
capable of savouring real goodness. Nor doth any precept
within the whole compass of that revelation which he hath
given us, express more fully, at once, both our duty and his
own nature, than that of loving our enemies, or of forgiving
men their trespasses. There is, perhaps, somewhere (but O
how rarely !) to be found among men, that benign, generous
temper of mind, as when an enemy is perfectly within one's
power, to be able to take a real solace in skewing mercy ; when
he is in a fearful, trembling expectation, and hath even yield-
ed himself a prey to revenge, to take pleasure in surprising
him by acts of kindness and compassion : one that can avow
the contrary sentiment to the spirit of the world, and to them
whoso emphatically say, How sweet is revenge ! and can with
greateirorzS®- — pathos oppose to it that, as the undisguised sense of
his soul, O but how much sweeter is it to forgive! Than which,
there is nowhere to be seen a more lively resemblance of God ; a
truer and more real part of His living image, who bath command-
ed us to love our enemies ; if they hunger, to feed them ; to bless
them that curse us ; to pray for them that despltefully use us,
and persecute us; that Ave may be his children, that we may
sheAv ourselves born of him, and to have received from
him a new, even a divine nature, one truly agreeable to, and
resembling his own : and unto whom, therefore, the acts and.
VOL. i. 3 ii
370 THE LIVING TEMPLE. FART IT.
operations that naturally proceed from this temper of spirit,
are more grateful and savoury than all whole burnt-offerings
and sacrifice. So are we to frame our conceptions of the ever
blessed God, if either we will take the rationally coherent and
self-consistent idea of an absolutely perfect Being, or his own
frequent affirmations who best understands his own nature, or
the course of his actual dispensations towards a sinful world,
for our measure of him.
Fourthly, But is it a difficulty to us to reconcile with all this
such frequent expressions in the sacred volume, as import a
steady purpose that all the sins of men shall be answered with
an exactly proportionable measure of punishment ? That every
transgression shall have a just recompense of reward ? That
death is the stated wages of sin ? Or do we find ourselves more
perplexed how to understand, consistently with such declara-
tions of his merciful nature, those passages which sometimes
also occur, that seem to intimate a complacential vindictive-
ness, and delight taken in punishing — the Lord is "jealous,
the Lord revengeth :" yea, that he seems to appropriate it as
peculiar to himself — " Vengeance is mine, and I will repay
it :" that "indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish,
shall be upon every soul of man that doetb evil :" that speak
of his laying up sin, sealing it among his treasures ; of his
waiting for a day of recompenses ; of his whetting his glitter-
ing sword, his making his bow ready, and preparing his ar-
rows on the string ; of his being refreshed by acts of vengeance,
his satiating of his fury, and causing it hereupon to rest, as
having highly pleased and satisfied himself therewith. If any-
thing alien to the divine nature, and disagreeable to the other
so amiable discoveries of if, be thought imported in such ex-
pressions, let it only be considered, first, what must be allowed
to be their import ; and, next, how well so much will agree
with a right conception of God.
For the former, it is not necessary that such expressions be
understood to intend more, and it seems necessary t'ey be not
understood to import less, than a constant, calm, dispassion-
ate, complacential will, so far to punish sin, as shall be ne-,
cessary to the ends of his government. That they do import
a will to punish, is evident ; for they are manifest, expressions
of anger, whereof we can say nothing more gentle, than that it
is a will to punish. It cannot signify punishment, without that
will ; for though the word anger, or wrath, be sometimes usi d
in Scripture for the punishment its- li', yet even then that will
is supposed, otherwise what is said to be punishment, were au
CHAP. TT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 371
unintended accident ; and then how were it a punishment ?
Much less can it signify only God's declaration of his will to
punish, excluding that will itself; for then what is it a decla-
ration of? Or what doth it declare? Surely we will acknow-
ledge it a true declaration ; then it cannot be the declaration
of nothing, but must have somewhat in-God correspondent to
it ; namely, the will which it declares. Which being plain,
that it be also,
Fifthly, A dispassionate will, accompanied with nothing of
perturbation ; that it be a constant will, in reference to all such
occasions, wherein the sacredness of the divine government,
violated, requires such reparation ; and without any change,
(other than what we may conceive imported in the different
aspects of the same object, conceived as future, present, or
past, and beheld before, with purpose, afterwards with con*
tinual approbation,) the most acknowledged perfection of the
divine nature doth manifestly not admit only, but require.
For that such a calm, sedate, steady, fixed temper of mind
in a magistrate is an excellency, even common reason appre-
hends : t her tore is it said, by a noted Pagan, that judges
ought to be legum similes — like the laws themselves ; which
are moved by no passion, yet inflexible : and then where can
such an excellency have place in highest perfection, but in the
blessed God himself? Yea, and that it be also a cornplacential
will, as some of the expressions above recited seem to import,
may very well be admitted, if we rightly conceive and state in
our own minds the thing willed by it ; that is, the preserving
the honour and dignity of the supreme government. Indeed,
simply to take pleasure in the pain and misery of another,
is so odd and unnatural a disaffection, that it is strange how it
can have place anywhere; and where it seems to have place
among men, though too often it really hath so in more mon-
strously vicious tempers, yet, with many others, (who herein
are sufficiently blameable also,) the matter may, perhaps, be
somewhat mistaken ; as that pleasure may possibly not be
ta! en in the afflicted person's mere suffering, for itself, but
only as it is an argument or evidence of the other's superiority,
wherein he prides himself, especially if he before misdoubted
his own power, and that there hath been a dispute about it,
which is now only thus decided : for then a secret joy may
arise unto the prevailing party, upon his being delivered from
an afflicting fear of being so used himself: and whereas he
took it for a disparagement that the other did so far lessen and
diminish him in his own thoughts, as to suppose or hope he
S72 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
should prove the stronger ; a pleasure is now taken in letting
him feel and have so sensible a demonstration of his error.
Sixthly, But that wherewith we must suppose the blessed
God to be pleased, in the matter of punishing, is the con-
gruity of the thing itself, that the sacred rights of his govern-
ment over the world be vindicated ; and that it be understood
how ill his nature can comport with any thing that is impure :
and what is in itself so highly congruous, cannot but be the
matter of his delectation. He takes eternal pleasure in the
reasonableness and fitness of his own determinations and ac-
tions, and rejoices in the works of his own hands, as agreeing
with the apt, eternal schemes and models which he hath con-
ceived in his most wise and all-comprehending mind : so that
though he desireth not the death of sinners, and hath no de-
light in the sufferings of his afflicted creatures, which his im-
mense goodness rather inclines him to behold with compassion,
yet the true ends of punishment are so much a greater good
than their ease, and exemption from the suffering they had
deserved, that they must rather be chosen, and cannot be
eligible for any reason, but for which also they are to be de-
lighted in ; that is, a real goodness, and conducibleness to a
valuable end, inherent in them. Upon which account, the just
execution of the divine pleasure in the punishment of insolent
offenders is sometimes spoken of under the notion of a solemn
festival, a season of joy, yea even of a sacrifice, as having a
fragrancy or delectable savour in it. But whereas some of
the above-mentioned expressions do seem to intimate a delight
in satisfying a furious, vindictive appetite ; we are to consider,
that what is spoken for the warning and terror of stupid, be-
sotted men, was necessarily to be spoken with some accommo-
dation to their dull apprehension of the things which they
yet see and feel not. For which purpose the person is
put on, sometimes, of an enraged, mighty man ; the terror of
which representation is more apprehensible to vulgar minds,
than the calm, deliberate proceedings of magistratical justice ;
it being many times more requisite, that expressions be rather
suited to the person spoken to, though they somewhat less ex-
actly square with the thing itself intended to be spoken.
Wherefore this being all that we have any reason to un-
derstand imported in such texts of Scripture as we before
mentioned, namely, a calm and constant^will of preserving
the divine government from contempt, by a due punishment
of such as do offer injurious affronts io it ; and that takes
pleasure in itself, oris satisfied with the congruiiy and fitness of
2
CHAP. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 373
its own determination ; what can there be in this unworthy of
God ? What that disagrees with his other perfections ? Or
that the notion of a Being, every way perfect, doth not exact
and claim as necessarily belonging to it ? For to cut off this
from it, were certainly a very great maim to the notion of such
a Being, if we consider it as invested with the right and office
of supreme rector, or ruler of the world. For if you frame
such an idea of a prince as should exclude a disposition to
punish offenders, who would not presently observe in it an in-
tolerable defect? Suppose Xenophon to have given this cha-
racter of his Cyrus : — That he was a person of so sweet a nature,
that he permitted every one to do what was good in his own
eyes ; if any one put indignities upon him, lie took no offence
at it ; he dispensed favours alike to all ; even they that de-
spised his authority, invaded his rights, attempted the sub-
version of his government, with the disturbance and confusion
of all that lived under it, had equal countenance and kindness
from him, as they that were most observant of his laws, and
faithful to his interest ; and it were as safe for any one to be
his sworn enemy, as his most loyal and devoted subject : — who
would take this for a commendation, or think such a one fit to
have swayed a sceptre ? Can there be no such thing as good-
ness, without the exclusion and banishment of wisdom, risfhte-
ousness, and truth ? Yea, it is plain they not only consist with
it, but that it is a manifest inconsistency it should be without
them. The several virtues of a well-instructed mind, as they
all concur to make up one entire frame, so they do each of them
cast a mutual lustre upon one another; much more is it so
with the several excellencies of the Divine Being. But how
much too low are our highest and most raised thoughts of the
Supreme Majesty ! How do we falter when we most earnestly
strive to speak and think most worthily of God, and suitably
to his excellent greatness !
Seventhly, If the justice of a human government requires
such a recompense, much more is it required by that of the
Divine government. This is discussed in the following chap-
ter. And the second thing proposed in page 360, namely,
f< That no recompense could be adequate but that made by
juuuanuel," is considered in Chap. VIII,
37# The living temple* part it.
CHAP. Vli.
The notion of justice in the divine government, and in a human, not
altogether the same.— A thing said to be just, in a negative, and a
positive sense: — the question discussed, Whether God's will to punish
sin were, antecedently to his legal constitution to that purpose, just,
not only in the former sense, but in the latter also? — Volenti non fit
injuria — To him who consents, no wrong is done, as to man, needs
limitation.— Holy Scripture speaks of God's punishing sin, not merely
as a concomitant of justice, but an effect: — his will to punish it must
proceed from justice j not, primarily, according to the common notion
of justice, as it respects the rights of another; therefore another notion
of it (as to him) to be sought. — God's rights so unalienable, that he
cannot quit them to his own wrong, as man can.— Secondarily, accord-
ing to the other notion, his right to punish depends not on his legal
constitution, but that on it. — That he cannot altogether quit it, no
detraction from him. — Justice, in a larger notion, doth further oblige
to insist upon recompense; namely, universal justice, as especially it
i comprehends his holiness, and also his wisdom. — The fitness of God'»
methods herein not to be contemplated by men only, but angels. — In
whatsense punishments to be reckoned debts. — This matter summed up.
WE must also acknowledge a very vast difference be-
tween God's government over his intelligent crea-
tures, and that of a secular prince over his subjects ; and
are thereupon to inquire, whether the notion of justice, as it is
applied to the one government and the other, can be the same.
A secular ruler is set up and established purposely for the
good of the community, as the more principal end of his con-
stitution. The people are not formed for him, but he for them ;
whence the administration of justice is a public and common
right, wherewith he is intrusted by the Supreme Ruler foHhem,
in order to the common good. Well, therefore, may his decrees
and edicts go in this form, and have this for their chief scope and
end : Ne quid detrimenti respublica capiat — Let the state
receive no injury. And hence the neglect duly and seasonably
to animadvert upon offenders, is a violation of the public
justice committed to his management, for which he is account-
able to Kim that intrusted him : it is a wrong done to the com-
munity, of whose rights he is the appointed guardian. And
CHAP. VII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 375
whereas such offences as more directly strike at his crown and
dignity, as treason or rebellion, seem more principally levelled
against himself and his own rights, so is the legal punishment
of them to be more at his arbitrament, whether to inflict or not
inflict it ; because it may seem in any one's power to dispense
with or recede from his own rights. Yet indeed if the matter
be more narrowly scanned, the relaxation of these should be,.
in reason, less in his power than of any other; because they
more directly affront that Supreme Ruler whom he represents,
and threaten the dissolution of the government, which is the
principal civil good of the whole community, and the benefits
whereof are their highest right. If violence be done to a
private subject, the impunity of the offender would be a public
wrong ; because it remotely tends, by the badness of the ex-
ample, to the hurt of the whole community. But in this case,
without any such circulation, all the rights of the community
are immediately struck at together, in their central knot and
juncture ; wherefore here, most of all, the prince is debtor to
the community. But now, the great Lord and Ruler of the
world owes his own creatures nothing : he is, by his goodness,
inclined to take care of them, and preserve common order
among them ; but not owing them any thing, (except by his
own word he makes himself a debtor,) he cannot be said to
wrong the community, by not providing that punishments be
inflicted upon delinquents, according to demerit. What he
can be understood, originally, to owe herein, he owes only to
himself: whence also the notion of justice which we herein
attribute to him, seems very different from that which belongs
to human governments ; which, though it allows not the dis-
posal of another's right, to his prejudice, forbids not the re-
mitting of one's own.
Whereas, therefore, a thing maybe said to be just, in a two-
fold sense ; either negative, as it is that which justice does not
disapprove, or positive, as that whereto also justice doth
oblige: it is hereupon a question of great moment, Whether
God's will to punish sinners, antecedent to his legal constitution
to that purpose, were just in the former sense only, or also in
the latter ? Can we say, God had been unjust, in not so
determining ? Whose rights had he violated in willing other-
wise? Not man's, to whom he did owe nothing. Will we
say, His own ? But volenti non fit injuria — to him who
consents, no wrong is done : which maxim doth not set us at
liberty absolutely to do whatsoever we will with ourselves, and
376 the living temple. part ii*
■what is ours ; because of others, whose rights are complicated
with ours, the chief Ruler and Lord of all especially, who
hath principal interest in us, and all that Ave have. Yet it
holds even as to us : for though we may injure others, God
especially, by an undue disposition of our properties, which
he intrusts us with ; (not for ourselves only, but for himself
chiefly, and for other men, whom therefore, in the second
place, we may wrong, by disabling ourselves to do them that
good which Ave ought;) and though Ave may also prejudice
ourselves, yet, ourselves apart, Ave cannot be said so far to
wrong, by our own consent, as to be able to resume our right ;
because, by that consent, (supposing it imprudent, or any
way undue,) Ave have quitted and even forfeited the right,
which, for ourselves, Ave had. But as to God, who has no
superior, nor owes any thing to any one, whom can he be
thought to wrong, by departing from any of his oavu rights ?
Inasmuch therefore as justice, in the common and most
general notion of it, is ever wont to be reckoned conversant
about «>.Ao7f/oi> «y*Jo» — the good of others, even that Avherefo
they have a right ; it seems not intelligible, how justice, ac-
cording to this usual notion of it, could primarily oblige God
to inflict deserved punishment upon transgressors, if he had
not settled a legal constitution to this purpose, and declared
that (his should be the measure of his proceedings herein ; both
because it is so little conceivable Ijoav the punishments of the
other state (which Ave are chiefly to consider) can be a good to
them Avho do not suffer them, (as Ave are sure they can be none
to them that do,) and also that it is not to be understood hovv,
if they Avere, they could otherwise have any right thereto,
f hafi by that constitution by which (as, before, God's dominion
was that of an absolute, sovereign Lord) he noAV undertakes
the part of a governor, ruling according to known and esta-
blished Iuavs.
Yet it is very plain, that for the actual infliction of such
punishments, holy Scripture speaks of it not merely as a con-
comitant of justice, or as that Avhich may consist with it, but
as an effect ; which the avWoiWcr, mentioned by the apostle,
plainly signifies, (2 Thess. 1. 6.) when he tells us, it is Avith
God lUxtov — a righteous thing, (that must be not only Avhat
justice doth admit, but exact,) u^xtsoHvoli — to recompense tribu-
lation to the troublers of his people, &c. And when we are
fold. (Rom.. 2. G.) that God uvsohiian — will render (or re-
compense) to eyery one according to his vvorks, even in the
CHAP. VII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 377
day above mentioned, (v. 5.) which is called, ^px o'fyjjr, x *j
uxsoKocXv^tut SiKziox.piiTixsj tov Qwv — the day of wrath, and of the re~
relation of the righteous judgment of God ; and that it is said,
the world was to become uctoo<x®- — guilty, (we read,) liable to he
impleaded before God, Rom. 3. 19. And again, (ch. 12. 19.)
that ex&KrxrK,— vengeance is said to belong to him, and he will
repay; with many more passages of like import.
But to carry the matter higher : it being evident it is that
which justice doth require, to punish sin, according to such
a constitution once made ; yet, all this while, how the con-
stitution was any necessary effect of justice, appears not.
Nor are we helped by the common notion of justice herein,
and are therefore cast upon the inquiry, Whether any other
notion of justice be fitly assignable, according whereto it may
be understood to have required the making that constitution
itself?
It is here to be considered, whence, or from what foun-
tain, any man, or community of men, come to have
right to any thing. It cannot be, but that the Fountain of
all being: must be the Fountain of all rights. From whence
things, absolutely considered, descend, all the relations that
result must also descend. There can therefore be no pre-
tence of right to any thing, among creatures, but from God ;
He, as the Sovereign Proprietor and Lord of all, settles such
and such rights in creatures, which they hold and retain de-
pendently on him, upon terms and according to rules which
lie hath prescribed ; so as that by transgression men may
forfeit such rights, or by consent and mutual contracts trans-
fer them to one another. Whereupon they have no unalienable
rights, none whereof they may not be divested, either by their
default or consent; sometimes by both together, as by a faulty
consent. And indeed if it be by the former, it must be by the
latter ; because no man is supposed to commit a fault against
his will. But it may be by the latter without the former, as
none can doubt but one may innocently divest himself, in
many cases, of his own present right ; otherwise, there could
be no such thing in the world as either gift or sale. And
hence it comes to pass, that the justice which is inherent in any
man, comes to be conversant about the rights of another, not
his own; so far as to oblige him not to intrench upon the
rights of another, while yet it forbids him not to dispose of
his own, as they are merely his. And there is no such tiling
as justice towards a man's self, so inhibiting him as (though
vol. i. 3 c
378 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
perhaps such an act ought not to have been done) to make his
act in that kind invalid, when he hath done it, only because
he hath thereby wronged himself; or which he can, afterwards,
allege against his own act or deed. For he hath no other
rights in any thing, than what are derived, borrowed, de-
pendent on the Supreme Proprietor, measurable by his rules,
by which they arc not unalienable ; yea, justice obliges, if
he swear to his own hurt, not to change, Ps. 15.
But now, with the Supreme Proprietor, there cannot but
be unalienable rights, inseparably and everlastingly inhe-
rent iri him : for it cannot be, but that He that is the Foun-
tain of all rights, must have them primarily and originally in
himself; and can no more so quit them, as to make the
creature absolute and independent, than he can make the
creature God. Wherefore, though with man there can be
no such thing as justice towards one's self, disenabling him to
forego his own rights, the case cannot but be quite otherwise
as to God, and for the same reason for which it cannot agree
to man ; because man hath none but borrowed and alienable
rights, which he can forego to his own prejudice, and God
hath none that he can so part with. Hereupon, therefore,
God did owe it to himself primarily, as the absolute Sovereign
and Lord of all, not to suffer indignities to be offered him,
without animadverting upon them, and therefore to determine
lie would do so.
But withal, he having undertaken the part of a legal Go-
vernor, and to rule by established laws, which should be the
stated measures of sin and duty, of punishments and rewards ;
hereby common order was to be preserved in the governed
community : and having published his constitution in his
word and otherwise sufficiently to that purpose, he hath
hereby, secondarily ', made himself Debtor to the community,
and by his constitution given men some right to the benefit of
that order which was to be maintained among them by these
means : which benefit they do here, in this present state,
actually partake in some measure ; and might in a greater
measure, if they were more governable, or would regard and
be awed more by the laws (with their sanctions) of their great
and rightful Ruler and Lord. Wherefore, though men have
no benefit by the punishments of the future state, they have^
or might have, by the feared commination of them, which,
neglected, made the actual infliction of them necessary. Nor
had they only the probable benefit of present order hereby.
CHAP. VIT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 379
but of a future well-being ; it being the design of that, as of
all the comminations of wise and good rulers, to prevent the
desert of the threatened punishment, and consequently the
punishment itself. And though men could have no right to
any such benefit, before the constitution ; yet it is not incon-
ceivable, that by it they might have some ; namely, an infe-
rior and secondary right.
Wherefore the blessed God, by making the legal constitu-
tion, which he will have to stand as the measure of his govern-
ment, hath not added to his own right to govern and punish
as th're is cause ; for it was natural, and needed nothing to
support it. The constitution rather limits than causes his
right, which depends not on it, but gives rise to it rather.
He gives assurance, by it, of his equal dealing, and that he
will not lay upon man more than is right, that he should enter
into judgment with God, Job 34. 12, 23. And whereas he
hath been pleased to publish his constitution, in the form of a
covenant, variously attempered to the dilferent states of men,
nothing accrues to him by their stipulating with him there-
upon. He is their Governor, as he is their Maker; not at
their choice, which in propriety the case admits not, there
being no competitor that pretends against him ; but is only a
loyal, dutiful consent, or recognising his former right. They
that consent to it, do therefore more deeply oblige themselves
to their own duty, and entitle themselves to his covenanted
favours ; but can entitle him to nothing, for their all was his
before : his contract shews his condescension, not defective
title. And this his antecedent, original right, that peculiar
excellency of his nature, his justice to himself inviolably pre-
serves, as the faithful guardian of all his sacred rights. So
that when he undertakes the part of a legal Governor, it in-
dispensably necessitates his doing whatsoever is requisite for
supporting the honour and dignity of his government; and
can permit nothing that shall detract from it, or render it less
august and awful.
Yet need we not here over scrupulously defend the common
notion of justice, in the utmost strictness of it, that makes it
conversant only about another's right, and seems therefore to
imply that a man can owe nothing to himself. That love to
others which comprehends all our duty to them, is to be
measured by love to ourselves, which seems equally com-
prehensive of duty which we are supposed to owe to ourselves.
Nor shall we dispute whether in no sense one can be both
creditor and debtor ; or whether insobriety be not properly un««
SSO THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
righteousness, and sobriety justice, even towards one's self:
subordination to God being still preserved, under whom, and
for whoniy only we can owe any thing to ourselves or others.
Only supposing, among men, such a thing as self-justice, it
is with them a weaker and more debile principle, that may
betray and lose their rights, which then no justice can reclaim.
Whereas, with God, it is, as all other excellencies are, in
highest perfection, and hath always the force with him of an
eternal and immutable law.
And if any should imagine this to detract from the abso-
luteness of God's dominion and sovereignty, and set him
in this respect beneath his own creatures, that whereas they
can quit their rights, it should be supposed he cannot forego
his ; it is answered, It hath not been said, that God can forego
none of his own rights ; it is plain he doth, when having the
right to punish a sinner, he by pardon confers upon him right
to impunity : but he cannot do it to the prejudice and dishonour
of his glorious excellencies, and the dignity of his government.
And therefore, if some preparation were requisite to his
doing it, consistently with the due honour and reputation
thereof, justice towards himself required he should insist upon
it; which is no more a detraction from his absoluteness, than
that he cannot lie, or do any thing unworthy of himself. He
is so absolute, that he can do whatever he pleases ; but so just,
that he cannot be pleased to do an unrighteous thing.
But besides that stricter notion of God's justice, as it is
conversant about, and conservative of, his own rights; we
may also consider it in a larger and more comprehensive notion,
as it includes his several moral attributes and excellencies,
and answers to that which among men is called universal
justice, and reckoned to contain in it all virtues.* For so
taken, it comprehends his holiness, and perfect detestation of
all impurity, in respect whereof he cannot but be perpetually-
inclined to animadvert with severity upon sin ; both because of
its irreconcilable contrariety to his holy nature, and the inso-
lent affront which it therefore directly offers him ; and because
of the implicit, most injurious misrepresentation of him, which
it contains in it, as if he were either kindly or more indifferently
affected towards it : upon which accounts, we may well sup-
* 'E> It Inuuwvty trvXki&hi nis apr irtr-BtgktWtsne*S comprises every
virtue.
CHAP. VII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. SSI
pose him to esteem it necessary for him, both to constitute a
rule for punishing it, and to punish it accordingly ; that he
may both truly act his own nature, and truly represent it.
And again, if we take the notion of his justice in this
latitude, it will comprehend his governing wisdom ; the part of
which attribute it is, to determine and direct the doing what-
soever is fit to be determined and done ; as it is the part of his
righteousness (taken in the strictest sense) to resolve upon and
execute whatever the rules of justice do require and call for.
It is the judge of decencies, or what it is meet and becoming
him, as the Lord and Ruler of the world, to do or not do.
And a very reasonable account might be given of this matter,
that we may renew and somewhat further insist on what was
said before, chap. vi. p. 369. There are many just laws
made by human legislators, to the making whereof, though
justice (in the stricter sense) did not rigidly oblige them, so
that they had been unjust if they had not made them, yet this
other principle, of equal importance to government, and which
also doth not altogether refuse the name of justice, might
require the making them, and would not be well comported
with by omitting to make them.
Hereupon therefore if it should be inquired, Was it, ante-
cedently to the making of this constitution, an indifferent thing
with God, whether to determine sin should be punished, or
not ? I answer, even upon this ground, No ; it was not in-
different, but indispensably necessary. Any thing is with him
necessary, as he is the Supreme Governor, that is upon a pru-
dential account most fit and conducible to the ends of govern-
ment. An antecedent necessity we might therefore assert, such
as not only arises from his justice, most strictly taken, but his
wisdom also ; whose part it is to judge of congruities, as it is
the part of strict justice to determine matters of right. Nor is
it unfit to say, Wisdom is the chief principle exercised in
making laws, justice in governing according to laws already
made. I say, the chief; for justice hath that part in legisla-
tion too, which hath been assigned it, as wisdom hath also its
part in the consequent administration. And what can be more
iiecessary to the great God, than to do ever what is most be-
coming and worthy of himself ? And what could have been so
becoming of him, as to let it appear to the world how sacred
the rights of his empire over it are ! how horrid a thing the
defection of a reasonable creature is, from the great Author
S82 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART IT.
and Lord of its life and being ! how costly an expiation it
did require! how solemn rights were to be performed ! how
great and awful transactions, that sin might become pardon-
able ! What could so tend to exalt majesty, to magnify the
reputation of his government, to possess his reasonable crea-
tures with awful apprehensions, and make them dread to
offend ? In a prudent government, how great a thing is reason
of state ! Even where there is the greatest inclination imagin-
able to be in all things most strictly and unexceptionably just,
yet is that the only care with prudent governors, that they
may be able to approve the justice of their administrations ?
There are many things which, without transgressing parti-
cular rules of justice, might have been omitted, from which
yet, upon mere reason of state, you can no more make them
swerve one ace, than you can remove the earth from its centre,
or change the ordinances of day and night ; and whereas that
fcath place in all things that tend to the keeping up the repu-
tation and grandeur of government, where can it claim to have
j)lace with equal right as here ? Whereupon we may, with
greatest assurance, assert, that in things which have this re-
ference, it is equally impossible to the absolute perfection of
the divine nature, that God should do an inept or unfit thing,
as an unjust. And whereas his righteousness is the directive
principle, in respect of equity or iniquity ; so is his wisdom,
of congruity and incongruity, decency and indecency: and
that it is equally necessary to him to do what is most worthy
of himself, and most becoming his excellent greatness, as what
is most strictly just. Therefore that when his most transcendent
greatness is represented in terms as high and great as could come
under human conception, (Heb. 2. 10.) He, namely, for zehom
are all things, and by whom are all things ; (and what could
sound higher ?) it is considered what was most becoming of
him, as such ; and determined that it became Him, for and
by whom all things were, since there was one (though so great
a one) that had undertaken for sinners, to be the Prince or
Prefect (izwv™) over the great affair of their salvation, espe-
cially being to make them, of rebels, sons, and as such, bring
them to glory, out of the meanest and most abject state ; that
he should not be made perfect, (not be duly initiated into
his great office, or not be complete master of his design,)
otherwise than by his own intervening suffering. Meaner
persons might do as became their meaner condition ; but He,
for whom are all things, and by whom are all things, must do
CHAP. VII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 3S3
as best became the most glorious greatness of Him, who is the
First and the Last, the Author and the End of all things !
We are prone to confine our apprehensions of things to
our own narrow sphere, that have reference also to another
besides, and greater than ours. If God had no creatures but
man, capable of government by laws, the case had been much
other than it is ; for considering that men have all been in
one common case of apostasy and condemnation, they who
should be restored to favour and a happy state, should have no
reason to look strangely upon one another, whatsoever the
way and terms were of their restitution, being all dealt with
alike. But we are to design a larger field and scene for our
thoughts, and to consider, that besides men, that shall be re-
stored from a fallen and lapsed state, there are numberless
myriads of pure and loyal spirits, that never fell, and with
whom restored men are to make one eutire, happy community,
for ever. Now we are to consider what aspect the matter would
have in their eyes, if not a single person, or two, but so vast
a multitude, (and not guilty of some light, transient offence
only, but of insolent, malicious enmity and rebellion against
the divine government, propagated aiid transmitted from age
to age, through all the successions of time,) should be brought
in upon them, to partake in the dignities and blessedness of
their state, without any reparation made of so great and con-
tinuing an injury ! Though their perfect subjection in all
things to the good pleasure of God would not allow them to be
exceptions, and apt to censure his doings or determinations,
yet also his most perfect wisdom and exact judgment, and
knowledge of what is in itself most fit, could much less admit
he should do any thing liable to be censured by his creatures,
as less fit. And no doubt so large and capacious intellects may
Well be supposed to penetrate far into the reason and wisdom
of his dispensations ; arid so not only to exercise submission,
in an implicit acquiescence in the unseen and only believed
fitness of them, but also to take an inexpressible complacency
and satisfaction in what they manifestly discern thereof, and
to be able to resolve their delectation in the ways and works of"
God into a higher cause and reason than the mere general
belief that he doth all things Well ; namely, their immediate,
delightful view of the congruity and fitness of what he does.
When they behold the apostasy and revolt of the sons of
men expiated by one of themselves, but with whom the Divine
Natureu in his own Son, was so intimately united, that the
3
384 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PAET II*
atonement made was both fit, as from them, and adequate, as
to him : this they cannot but behold with complacential ap-
probation and admiration ; for, no doubt, he made creatures
of such a capacity, with a design to gratify the understand-
ings he gave them, by approving and recommending the ex-
actness and accuracy of his methods thereto ; otherwise, a far
lower measure of intellectual ability, in these creatures, had
answered the Creator's purpose as well. They certainly
cannot but approve that way he hath taken, for itself; and do
doubtless stoop down to look into it, not with less compla-
cency, than wonder; it being, in the congruity of it, as
suitable to their bright and clear intellects, being revealed, as
for the strange contrivance thereof it had been altogether above
them, if it had not been revealed. They cannot, when they
behold a full, glorious vindication of the offence and wrong
done to their common Lord, and the dignity of his govern-
ment, by his revolted creatures, antecedent to the reception
of any of them into grace and favour, but highly admire the
lovely comeliness and congruity of his whole dispensation,
and express their pleasant resentments, by bearing a part with
the redeemed society in such strains of praise, such admira-
tions and applauses, as these : " Holy and marvellous are thy
works, Lord God Almighty ; just and true are thy judgments,
thou Kinsr of nations and of saints ''
Upon the whole, there appears sufficient reason to con-
clude, not only upon the account of justice more strictly
taken, but also of congruity and fitness, or according to such
a larger notion of justice as imports an inflexible propension to
do what is fit and congruous to be done, it was indispensably
necessary the holy God should, in order to his return to his
temple among men, insist to have a recompense made for the
wrong that was done him by the violation of it. Nor let
this be understood to detract from, but add to, what hath
been above discoursed of justice, taken in a most strict sense,
and most appropriate to God, as it is, primarily and in the
first place, conservative of his own most sacred rights ; which
must be, by consequence, vindictive of the violation of (hem :
and this is the original justice, (as his are the original rights,
and the fountain of all other,) and must have had place, though
he had settled no express constitution of government. And
also as, secondarily, it is conservative of the rights of the
governed community, which, by the constitution once settled,,
accrue to it.
»
CHAP. VII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. SS5
Whereupon also it may be understood, in what sense
punishments, passively taken, are to be accounted debts.
And it is fitter to distinguish, and thereupon to explain, how
they are or are not so, than at random to deny they are so at
all, when our Lord hath taught us to pray, " Forgive us our
debts;" and when it is so plain in itself, that he who by
delinquency hath forfeited his life, is most truly said to owe it
to justice. Yea, and whrn, though the creditor pcence — he
who has a right to punish is said not to be so easily assignable, yet
no doubt at all is made concerning the debtor ; for how absurdly
should he be said to be a debtor, that owes no debt ? Therefore
punishments are not of the nature of those debts that, according
to the rules of commutative justice, arise by contract between
man and man ; and which, as they arise by consent between the
two covenanting parties, may as well cease by consent. But
nothing hinders, but they maybe such debts as arc to be estimated
by the distributive justice of rulers, whereof we must either say,
that of some, justice doth oblige human and secular rulers to
exact the punishment ; or else, that magistratical justice would
allow the remitting of all, and that no offences of any kind be
ever at all punished. But if the justice of any secular rulers
oblige them to punish some offenders, then most of all that of
the supreme and most absolute Ruler and Lord of all, whose
rights are natural, and depend not on our consent, or any
contract with us, any more than our consent was previous to
our coming into being, or our becoming his creatures ; and
whose justice must be more concerned to protect and vindicate
his rights, than that of any earthly governor can be \o preserve
the rights of even the most considerable community : no com-
munity, nor all taken together, nor even the whole creation,
being of any comparable value with the interest of the supreme
and universal Ruler, of himself alone ; in respect of whom all
nations are as the " drop of the bucket, &c." especially if
we add, (though that be but of secondary consideration,) that
the rights of the greatest, even the universal community of all
mankind, are involved with his own, and that their common
peace and order are to be preserved by punishments, even
eternal ones, not as executed, but as threatened ; which, as
hath been said, made the execution necessary, where the
terms and method of remission are not complied with.
And whereas it is reckoned difficult to assign the creditor
pocnce, the reason of that is not difficult to be assigned, if we
consider what the true notion of a creditor is. And it is
not taken passively, for him who is intrusted with another's
vol.i. 3d
386 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART lit
rights, at least is not so to be limited ; inasmuch as a man may
be more properly creditor of what is his own than of what is
another's ; but actively, for one who trusts another. But the
debitor pcence — he who is liable to punishment , is not intrusted
with any thing, but is only to be punished when he can be
met with, and duly brought thereto ; and therefore is not
bound to offer himself to punishment, as another debtor is to
pay what he owes : he is to be active in the solution ; the
delinquent, passive only: whence dare poznas is rightly in-
terpreted to suffer punishment. And that this is all he is
obliged to, is plain, if we consider that it is not the precept of
the law that in this case obliges him, which only obliges to
the doing of duty ; but the annexed commination, which can
only oblige to undergo punishment.
Creditor indeed is chosen as a fit word to express the cor-
relative unto debitor pocnce ; but by it we are to understand no
more than only the object of this solution : so in human
governments, the governor is improperly, namely, as he is
intrusted with the rights of the community. But in the divine
government, God himself, originally and radically, as he is
Maker and Lord of all ; immediately and formally, as he is
the supreme Ruler, and such a one therefore as governs prin-
cipally, suo jure, and for himself, not for others. For he
cannot but be his own supreme end ; that he also doth under-
take the care of the concernments and good of others, is of
mere vouchsafement and condescension, not from any ante-
cedent obligation so to do.
The sum of all therefore is, that whether we take divine
justice in the larger sense, as it. comprehends all the moral
excellencies that relate to the government of God over man,
especially his wisdom and his holiness, or whether we take
it in the stricter sense, for a principle inclining him to main-
tain and vindicate the rights and dignity of his government, it
did direct as well his making a constitution for the punishing
of affronts and offences committed against it, as to proceed
according to it, so as not to remit such injuries to the offender
without most sufficient recompense.
CHAP. VIII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 38?
CHAP. VIII.
The head marked thus (1.) being so far insisted on, namely, that a suf-
ficient recompense was necessary; we proceed to shew, (2.) That no les s
was sufficient than that made by Immanuel. [1.] Dishonourable to
have insisted on less. [2.] What the divine estimate in this matter
was, his own word shews. [8.] His love to offenders would otherwise
have been under restraint. [4.] It is proposed to consider two things:
First, What was to be remitted; where is shewn, 1. The greatness of
the offence — the sins of all times and ages. That the recompense is\
not applicable to fallen angels, or to the impenitent and unbelieving )
under the gospel, does not arise from any insufficiency. c l. The way
and manner in which remission is to be granted: namely, byauni-"^
versal law. Secondly, What is to be vouchsafed; which follows in
Chap. IX.
AND so much being clear, there Is less need to insist co-
piously in shewing what was proposed, ch. vi. p. 360.
and which comes next to be considered,
(2.) That no recompense could be sufficient for expiating
the wrong done by the violation of God's temple among men,
and the laying its foundations anew, besides that which bath
been made by the Son of God, Immanuel, God with us. And
this, by his becoming himself first an original Temple, a Man,
inhabited with all the fulness of God, and then made also a
Sacrifice to the offended majesty and justice of Heaven, for
those great and high purposes, the expiating the indignity
of violating God's former temple, and the raising, forming,
and beautifying it anew, in conformity to its present pattern
and original ; and then possessing, inhabiting, and restoring
the divine presence in it. For as it hath been shewn already,
that this recompense could not but be full, and apt to answer
these purposes ; so it is in itself evident, that whatsoever
should be tendered in the name of a recompense, ought to be
pi//, and proportionable to the wrong done, and to the favours
afterwards to be shewn to the transgressors. Here therefore
let if be observed,
[1.] That it would have been dishonourable to have in-
sisted on less : for it were manifestly more honourable and
worthy of God not to have exacted any recompense at all, than
S88 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
to have accepted, in the name of a sacrifice, such as were un-
proportionable, and beneath the value of what was to be re-t
mitted and conferred . What had been lower must have been
infinitely lower ; let any thing be supposed less than God, and
it falls immensely short of him. Such is the distance between
created being- and uncreated, that the former is as nothing to
the latter ; and therefore, bring the honour and majesty of
the Deity to any thing less than an equal value, and you bring
it to nothing. And this had been quite to lose the design
of insisting upon a recompense ; it had been to make the
majesty of heaven cheap, and depreciate the dignity of the
divine government, instead of rendering it august and great.
Therefore the whole constitution of Immanuel, his undertak-
ing, performances, and acquisitions, appear to have been not
only apt, suitable, and sufficient to the intended purposes,
(which was first proposed to be shewn,) but also requisite and
necessary thereto.
[2.] What the divine estimate in this matter was, his own
word shews : and for the evincing hereof, let us apply our minds
to meditate silently and intently a while on those words of our
Lord, (John 10. 17.) " Therefore doth my Father love me,
because I lay down my life :" and let us consider them with
that reverence which we cannot but conceive due to words Ave
esteem most sacred and divine ; that is, that they could not be
rashly or lightly spoken : whereupon, let us bethink ourselves,
Have those words a meaning ? This, our awful regard to the
venerable greatness of Him that spoke them, cannot suffer us
to doubt. And if they mean any thing, it is impossible they
should not mean somewhat most profound and great ; some-
what that implies a reference to a peculiar OcoTjpcrjis, that is, a
divine decorum, which as an eternal law perpetually conducts
all the propensions and determinations of God's most perfect
will, that could by no means suffer any violation : what was
most becoming of God ; namely, what might best "become
him, for whom are all things, and by whom are all things ;"
(Heb. 2. 10.) worthy of the great, all-comprehending, central,
original Being, from whence all things sprang, and wherein
all terminate. Here is some gradual retcction (if we consider
what immediately follows, " In bringing many sons to glory,
&c") of the veiled arcana of the Divine Being : if we may,
on so fit occasion, allude to the inscription in the Egyptian
temple, elsewhere mentioned in this discourse — " I am all that
was, and is, and shall be, and who is he that shall draw aside
my veil ?" Here is, in some part, a withdrawing of that sacred
CHAP. VTIT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 389
veil, by Him to whom by prerogative it belonged, and of whom
it is said, "No man hath seen God at any time, but the only
begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father : he hath de-
clared him," John I. 18. Here is some disclosure of the mys-
tery of God, of the Father, (Col. 2. 2.) in whom the divine
nature was primarily, and as in that first fountain ; and of
Christ, the mystery of the Mediator, of whom Christ was the
distinguishing name. The agreement, hitherto inconceivable
and most mysterious, of the absolute purity and perfection of
the divine nature, with the admirable mercifulness of the con-
stitution of Immanuel, of God and man united in one, in order
to the reconciliation of the holy, blessed God, with unholy,
miserable man. How was it to be brought about, in a way
becoming Him for whom and by whom all things were, so
great, so august a Majesty ! that He should admit that so des-
picable and rebellious a race should not only be saved, but be
made sons ! This could never be, though his immense and
boundless love most strongly inclined him to it, but by their
having one of highest dignity, his own Son, set as a Prince or
Prefect over the whole affair of their salvation; nor by him,
but upon his own intervening suffering ! This was according
to fixed rule indispensably necessary ; that is, by the inviolable
maxims of the divine government. But because, through the
inconceivable richer of his own goodness, this was a thing he
was most propense unto, and intent upon ; yet because the
death of his own Son in their stead could neither be meritorious
nor just, without his own free consent, therefore, says our
Lord, doth my Father love me, because 1 lay down my life —
What conceivable reason can there be of this connexion, ( u He
therefore loves me, because I lay down my life,") without the
concurrence of these two things to be considered conjunctly ?
namely, A most intense, vehement love to a perishing world ;
and an inflexible regard to the eternal, immutable measures of
right and wrong, fit and unfit, decent and indecent, that had
their fixed, everlasting seat in the mind of God.
The first made the end necessary, the preventing the total,
eternal ruin of a lost world ; the second made the Son of God's
death, and his ozsn eonsent thereto, the necessary means to
this end. The former, namely, the end, was not otherwise
necessary than upon supposition ; it was not so absolutely ne-
cessary, that by any means, right or wrong, fit or unfit, such
a ruin (even most deserved) must be prevented. But it was so
far necessary ; as that if, by any rightful and decorous means,
390 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
this ruin could be prevented as to many, and a contrary blessed
state of perpetual life be attained by them, this must be effected
and brought about for them. Not, it is true, for all offend-
ers, but as many as the like eternal, indispensable means and
measures of equal and unequal, fit and unfit, capable and un-
capable, should not exclude.
All this we have in that most admirable text of Scripture,
(John 5. 16.) " God so loved the world, that he gave his only
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not
perish, but have everlasting life." So loved! The matter is
signified in such a way, as to leave all men amazed ! and by
their astonishment to supply their most defective conception of
so stupendous a love. The world is an indefinite term, that
contains the special and the afterwards specified object of this
love; not a single person, but a whole race of intelligent crea-
tures, a world inhabited by such, that were not to be left, and
finally all swallowed up together in one common ruin; that
upon this account he gave his only begotten Son to death, as
the event and known design shewed. And how inconceivable
must his love be to his only begotten Son ! " The Brightness of
his glory, the express Image of his person !" Always his De-
light ! Yet rather than all this world should be lost for ever,
He is thus given up ! " That whosoever believe on him, should
not perish, &c." which expresses the certain, specified, de-
clared object of this love : leaving them certainly excluded,
who, after sufficient proposal, refuse their homage to the
throne of Immanuel ; choose rather their forlorn souls should
be for ever forsaken of the divine presence, than unite with
Iiim, and surrender themselves to him, by whom alone they
might be refitted, animated again, and inhabited as his living
temples. Their exclusion is necessary, by such measures as
those, by which such means were necessary to the salvation and
blessedness of the others. But who can doubt hereupon, but
that this course was indispensably necessary to this end ? Es-
pecially if (reviewing that first-mentioned iext) we consider,
that our Lord represents his laying down his life as an un-
expressible additional endearment of him to the Father: as
if he should say, " O thou Son of my delights, thou hast now
set my love to lost souls at liberty, that hath been ever preg-
nant with great and godlike designs towards them, and that
must otherwise have been under perpetual restraint :" which is,
[3.] Most evidently implied. But it may be said, Could
the love of God be under restraint ? And 1 say No, it could
2
CHAP. VIIT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 391
not ; therefore to the all-comprehending Mind, where ends
and means lie connected together under one permanent, eter-
nal view, this course presented itself, as peculiarly accom-
modate to this end ; and was therefore eternally determin-
ed by easy concert between the Father and the Son, not
to remedy, but prevent any such restraint. Yet it may be
further urged, Cannot the absoluteness and omnipotency of
a God enable him to satisfy his own propensions, if it were
to save ever so many thousand worlds of offending crea-
tures, without taking such a circuit as this ? It was once
said to a human mortal king, that had about him but a
thin shadow of sovereignty, Dost thou now govern Israel,
and not make thy will any way take place ? Much more might
it here be said, Dost thou govern the world ? Art thou not
God ? Yes ! and may freely say, I can the less, for that I arm
God, do what is not Godlike ; that is, can therefore the less
break through established, eternal measures, and counteract
myself. I must do as becomes Him, for whom and by whom
are all things. Others may assume to themselves an imagined,
unhallowed liberty of pursuing, at the next, their own incli-
nations ; but it is beneath divine greatness to do so. Yet
in this case (it may be further said) why did not love to
his Son preponderate ? Which our Lord himself in great
part obviates by what is subjoined — " because I lay down my
life ;" how ? With a power and design to take it again, as v.
18. " I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take
it again : this is a matter agreed. I am not to lie under a
perpetual death ; that could neither be grateful to my Father,
nor is in itself possible. But as things are stated, 1 am pre-
pared to endure the cross, and despise the shame, for the joy
set before me ; which joy will be everlastingly common to him
and me, and to the whole redeemed community, according to
their measure." But was all this unnecessary trifling ? What
serious man's reverence of Deity can let him endure to harbour
so profane a thought ! Therefore take we now the entire state
of this matter, as it lies plainly in view before us, in these
. texts of Scripture : first, here is an unexpressible love of God
to undone, lost sinners : secondly, here is a plain intimation
that this love must have been under a suspension and re-
straint, if God's own Son had not laid down his life for them :
thirdly, it is as plainly signified, that the Son of God's lay-
ing down his life for them, was, in divine estimate, a sufficient
expedient to prevent this restraint upon his love to sinners :
$92 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
fourthly, that this expedient was reckoned by the blessed
God more eligible, than that his love to sinners should be un-
der perpetual, everlasting restraint : fifthly, that it was only
reckoned more eligible, as there was a conjunct considera-
tion had of his laying it down, with a power and design of re-
sinning and taking it again : sixthly, that therefore, as the
eternal God had a most constant, unquestionable love to his
only-begotten Son, his love to him hath a peculiar and
most complacential exercise, on the account of his con-
curring with him upon this expedient; choosing rather to
endure all the dolours of that u one hour, and power of
darkness," that was to come upon him, than that a whole
world of reasonable creatures, his own offspring, and bearing
his own image, should all perish together everlastingly. But
who now sees not that this was the determinate judgment of
the great God, namely, that hisgracious designs towards guilty
creatures were not otherwise to be effected, than in this way ?
And yet, for the further clearing of this matter, taking TIeb.
10. 4. that the blood of the Lord Christ, and of bulls and
goats, are put in direct opposition to each other ; and here-
upon, that it is said of the latter, " It is not possible it should
take away sin :" what can that imply less, than that the former
was necessary to the taking it away ? Let us but appeal to our-
selves, what else can it mean ? Will we say, though sin could
not be taken away by the blood of bulls and goats, it might by
some nobler sacrifice of an intermediate value ? But is not this
manifestly precluded, and barred by the immediateness of the
opposition ? These two only are in competition, and it is said,
not (his, but that. Other sacrifices God would not ; (Ps. 40.
6, 7.) then, saith our Lord, " Lo ! 1 come." These are re-
jected, this is chosen ; he taketh away the first, that he may
establish the second, Heb. 10. 9. When it is said, (Mic. 6.
6, 7.) not thousands of rams, or ten thousand rivers of oil ; if
one should say, Yea, but eleven thousand might serve ; were
not this trifling, not reasoning ? Is it not plain all other were
refusable, for the same reason ?
I shall now somewhat enlarge (as was formerly designed)
upon the two tilings already intimated under the foregoing head
of Immanuel's sufficiency, &c. as having acquired the two-
fold power of foirgpsirig sin, and giving the Spirit. And shall
now shew, further, the necessity of his engaging in this affair
/the restoring of God's temple) with reference to both these
thiugs, requisite thereto.
/
CHAP. VIII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 393'
[4.] And to this purpose, let it be considered — What was
to be remitted, and what was to be conferred, by his pro-
curement.
First, What was to be remitted. It was not the single trespass
of one or a few delinquent persons, but the revolt and rebel-
lion of a vast community ; a universal hostility and enmity,
continued and propagated through many successive ages, that
was now, once for all, to be atoned for. It is hereupon^ be
considered, How great the offence was that must be remitted,
and the way and manner in which the grant was to be made of
this remission.
1 . How great was the offence to be remitted ! A whole
race and order of creatures had been in a conspiracy against
their rightful Lord, to deface his temple, tear down his image,
invade his rights, withhold and incapacitate themselves for his
worship, substitute, instead of that, highest contempt, banish
his presence, and as much as in them lay raze out his memo-
rial, that he might be no more known, feared, or served upon
earth ! How horrid a prospect had the Lord from heaven,
when, from the throne of his glory there, he beheld the state
of things below! (Ps. 14. 2,3.) « The Lord looked down
from heaven upon the children of men, to see if any did under-
stand, and seek after God ; they are all gone back, none that
does good, no not one." All were become such mischievous,
wicked fools, as to say, with one consent, in their hearts, —
No God ! And though, it is true, this wickedness was not in
event to be actually remitted to all, the case was to be so stated,
that remission might be universally offered ; and that it be left
to lie upon men's own score if it were not. accepted ; and
therefore, that a sacrifice must be offered up, of no less value
than if every single transgressor was to have his actual, sealed
pardon.
For let it be considered what sort of transgressors are ex-
cluded the benefit of remission, on the account of that great
Sacrifice that once for all was offered up ; and we find it not
difficult to apprehend other most important reasons why they
are excluded ; but no colour of a reason that it should be for
want of sufficient value in this Sacrifice.
As for the angels that fell, though their case comes not directly
under our present consideration, yet occasionally, and as (a
fortiori) we may argue from it, some thoughts may be usefully
employed about it. The divine pleasure herein is indeed in-
timated, in the Son of God's not taking their nature, but ours,-
vol. i, 3 E
394r THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART TI.
and his known measure of shewing mercy, is that he will shew
mercy, because he will shew mercy. Yet, whereas we find that
the most sovereign act of grace, the predestinating of some to the
adoption of children, is ascribed to the good pleasure, (Eph.
1. 5.) the same act is ascribed also to the counsel of his will,
v.'th And when we seethe apostle in that holy transport,
(Rom. 11. 33.) crying out, in contemplation of distinguishing
mercy, » jSaS©- — O the depth ! he doth not say of the sovereign
power, but of the wisdom and knowledge of God ; and ad-
mires the unsearchableness, not of his arbitrary determinations,
but of his judgments and ways, or judicial proceedings towards
them that believed, or believed not : (Ps. 30. 31. 32.) imply-
ing that he had reasons to himself, though past our rinding
out, of his different proceedings towards some, and others.
And as for the angels that fell, and whom lie thought fit not
to spare, (2 Pet. 2. 4, 5. Jude 6.) he threw them into chains
of darkness, resolving to deal with them, not upon terms of
absolute sovereignty, but of justice, therefore reserving them
to the judgment of the great day ; not in the mean time afford-
ing them a second trial, in order to their recovery, as he hath
to us, even of mere mercy ; for no justice could oblige him to
offer us new terms. Yet their case and ours so differed, that
there are reasons obvious to view, and which must lie open
to all, in the public, final judgment, why he might judge it
fitter to design the objects of mercy among men, than the
apostate angels. As,
That we must suppose them (namely, the angels) created,
each of them, in perfect maturity, unto which we (our first
parents excepted) grow up gradually and by slow degrees.
They had their intellectual ability fit for present exercise,
when they first existed, and did all then at once coexist ; (as
we generally reckon, having nothing to induce us to think
otherwise ;) we come into being successively, and exist here
but in a succession.
Whereas they therefore must be understood to have been
originally under a sort of covenant of works, (as we were,) or
were some way or other made to understand what, by the law
of their creation, was their duty towards the Author of their
being, and what their expectations might be from him ; we
have no reason therefore to apprehend that they weie treated
with, in one common head of their own order, in whom they
should stand or fall, as we were ; our case not admitting it to
be otherwise, because we were not coexistent with him. But
we must conceive them to have been, every individual of them.
CHAP. VIII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 395
personal covenanters, each one in his own person receiving the
signification of their Maker's will ; and if there were reason or
need of solemn astipulation, each one in his own person as it
were plighting his faith, and vowing his allegiance to the
celestial crown and throne. They therefore, from a self-con-
tracted malignity, rebelled with open eyes ; and though an
obligation by a common head were binding ; theirs, by their
own act and deed must be more strongly binding ; and their
revolt more deeply and more heinously criminal.
The posterity of our apostate first parents have but a
limited time, in this state of probation, wherein to under-
stand the present altered state of things between them and their
offended Lord : within which time, though he foresaw the
malignity of very many would never be overcome by his good-
ness, in the ordinary methods wherein he reckoned it became
him to discover and exercise it towards them, yet according
to the course and law of nature he had now settled for this
apostate sinful world, their course would soon be run out, and
they would not have opportunity long to continue their rebel-
lion, and obstruct his interest and designs on earth. And also,
having all things ever present to his all-comprehending view, he
foreknew and foredetermined that great numbers should become
the captives of his grace, and that the love and blood of an lm-
manuel should not be lost and thrown away upon them : but that
he should make them " willing in the day of his power" to fall
in with gracious intendments, and their Redeemer should see his
seed, and the travail of his soul, and be satisfied therein : whereas
he beheld the apostate spirits of that higher order fixed in
enmity, not vincible by any ordinary methods. Nor was it to be
expected he should exert (in this case) his absolute power,
and act ad ullimiim — to his very uttermost, as a natural agent
doth ; (had he thought that tit, he could as well have pre-
vented their revolt ;) or that he should have appointed a Re-
deemer for their recovery, who were irrecoverable : their case
at first being (probably) very parallel to their's among men,
who sin "that sin against the Holy Ghost." And as things
lay in divine prospect, their malicious opposition to God's
designs in this world was not bounded within the narrow limits
of a short human life, their natures not being subject to a law
of mortality, as it is with every sinner among men ; but they
were beheld as continually filling this world with mischiefs,
with wickednesses and miseries, and counterworking all God's
glorious and merciful designs in it ; even every one of them,
from his first apostasy, as long as the world shall last.
396 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
Man sinned at first, being seduced, tempted, and deceived
by the devil. The devils, as being their own tempters, sin had
in and from them its original and first rise in the creation of
God. In all agency, whether of good or evil, much is wont
to be attributed to this, Who w&sjirst in it ? In point of good,
the blessed God hath no competitor ; he is the undoubted first
Fountain of all good, and is therefore acknowledged the
supreme Good. In point of evil, (namely, moral,) there is
none prior to the devil, who is therefore eminently called the
evil, or wicked one. And as the devils were first in sin, so
they led ns into it, by deceiving us ; the malignity of it was
therefore the greater on their parts, and proportionably the
less on ours. The more knowing are the more deeply guilty,
the deceiver than the deceived, and deserve the more stripes.
It is true that none can deserve mercy, for then it were justice,
and not mercy ; but though none can deserve to have mercy
shewn them, they may deserve not to have it. The more a
ruler is above us, and the less he needs us, the less possible it
is for us to oblige him, and the more possible to disoblige and
offend him, and the more heinous will the offence be : there-
fore, though none can claim mercy, they may forfeit it; and
will, by the deeper guilt, incur such a forfeiture, by how
much the more and clearer the light and knowledge are against
which they offend. And this we find to have been a measure
with the blessed God, in the exercise of his mercy, even in
some of the highest instances hereof that we meet with in holy
Scripture; " I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly,
in unbelief," 1 Tim. 1. 13. Not that this could specify a more
deserving object of mercy ; for where there can be no desert at
all, there can be no more, or less. But it represents the
occasion and season of shewing mercy more fitly, in the esti-
mate of the divine wisdom, which conducts the acts of sove-
reignty ; and judges of congruities, as justice doth of right
and wrong. Where indeed, among the objects of mercy,
there is an absolute parity, there (as to them) mere sovereignty
determines ; as it may be ordinarily, in God's electing among
men the objects of his free favour. Where there is no objec-
tive reason of eligibility in one more than another, especially
if there be such as would rather persuade the contrary way,
wisdom hath no proper exercise. But occasions are of greater
latitude, and comprehend all considerable circumstances and
consequences ; and many things lie open to the divine eye,
that are hid to ours.
But now, whereas we cannot doubt, that besides such conside-
4
CHAP. VIII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 397
rations as occur to us, the blessed God saw superabundant
ground of not making such provision for the recovery of fallen
angels, as of lost men; we can have none, whereupon to
imagine the former partake not of the benefit with the latter, for
want of value in the sacrifice of Immanuel. For when the
blood of his cross is intimated to extend to all things both in
heaven and earth ; (Col. J. 20.) to diffuse an influence through
the universe ; to be the cement of the creation, in what part
and for what time it shall continue, subordinately to the
Creator's pleasure and purposes ; and that by Him, who shed
it even as such, all things are said to consist : and that besides
his natural right, he hath acquired, by the superabundant
value of this sacrifice, (the odours whereof are spread through
all worlds,) a universal dominion ; and particularly, to be
Head of all principalities and powers; to establish the faithful
and loyal, to judge and punish the disloyal, over whom he so
gloriously triumphed on the cross ; (Col. 2. 15.) to have every
knee bow to him, &c. : (Phil. 2. Q — 11.) it cannot be, doubt-
less, but the value of the same sacrifice had sufficed to obtain
a power, as well as to govern and judge all, to establish and
reward the good, to punish the bad ; to have obtained that,
upon terms, pardon and mercy might have reached down into
the infernal regions, if they that inhabit them could upon other
accounts have been thought a pardonable or tractable sort of
delinquents. And if we cannot apprehend this great Sacrifice
to want value even to make atonement for devils, we can as
little think it should want value to save
The impenitent and unbelieving among men, under the
gospel / and that it must therefore also be for some other
reason, that such perish. As,
If there be any thing of reason in what hath been dis-
coursed concerning the state of the lapsed angels, the continuance
of men in wilful impenitency and infidelity partly supposes t
partly makes, the state of things with them the same.
Partly supposes it so. For it implies they have been ap-
plied to and treated with personally, upon the terms of the
second covenant ; that is, the covenant of God in Christ, as
the apostate angels were upon the first. And if the guilt of the
former apostates were so horridly great upon this account, the
guilt of the latter must be proportionably so on the same
account.
Partly makes it the same. For hereby, as the angels were
violators first and immediately in their own persons of theirs*
covenant, so are men of the second. For, generally, they
$98 THE LIVING TEMPLE. FART It.
that live under the gospel are professed covenanters ; and if
they were not, they could not but have become obliged to
have been so, by the very proposal and tender thereof unto
them ; or, as soon as the mind of Him who made them, con-
cerning this matter, was known. They were not obliged by
their own consent, but they were obliged to it, and by an in-
comparably greater and deeper obligation ; not by their own
act and deed, but by His who gave them breath. What is
their authority over themselves, compared with that of the
Supreme Lawgiver ? A mere borrowed subordinate thing,
without and apart from him, without whom their being itself
were mere nothing ! An argument ad hominem, is convictive,
in disputation, between one man and another; but how much
more overpowering means of conviction will there be in the
judgment of the great day ! And the parity of cases between
the angels that fell, and insolent sinners under the gospel, is
intimated as monitory to the latter, in those texts of Scripture
that speak of God's most just and terrible severity to the
former ; namely, the sin of both was apostasy, according to
the different covenants or laws under which they stood. For
as the one sort were apostates from God, so the others were
from Christ, denying the Lord that bought them, 2 Pet. 2. 1.
And again, " turning the grace of God into lasciviousness,
and denying the only Lord God, and our Lord Jesus Christ,'*
Jude 4. Whereupon, this example of God's vengeance upon
the angels that fell is subjoined in both places. Besides what
was common to them with the apostate angels, there were
some things peculiar to these wilful refusers of the grace of the
gospel, and violators of the gospel-covenant. As,
That the guilt of wilful sinners under the gospel admits
of this aggravation above that of the rebelling angels, that they
offend against the grace of the remedy, never offered to the
other; treading under foot the Son of God, profaning the
blood of the covenant, wherewith they were sanctified, as an
unholy thing, and doing despite unto the Spirit of grace, Heb.
10. 29. And,
That the offer itself, made to them, carried in it a manifest
signification of their (remote) claimable right to the benefits
of the gospel-covenant, on supposition of their compliance
with the terms of it, (unto which the fallen angels could have
no pretence,) barred only by their non-acceptance or refusal,
which appears in the general tenor of the gospel-covenant it-
self: "Ho, every one that thirsts" — "Whosoever will, let
him come, and take of the waters of life freely" — " God so
CHAP. VTII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. o99
loved the world, that lie gave his only begotten Son, that
whosoever believetli in him, should not perish." — And it is here
to be noted, that a secret intention gives not a claimable right,
but some overt-act or deed ; and it must be claimable, before
it ought to be claimed or accepted. This is the case then with
the wilfully impenitent and rebellious under the gospel,
that it may be truly said to them, u You might have had
pardon and eternal life, if you had not rejected the kindest
offers." It is not therefore want of value in this sacriiice,
but their rejection, whence it is unavailable to them. As
for them that could never have the gospel, or infants incapa-
ble of receiving it, we must consider the holy Scriptures were
written for those that could use them, not for those that could
not ; therefore to have inserted into them an account of God's
methods of dispensation towards such, had only served to gra-
tify the curious and unconcerned, not to instruct or benefit
such as were concerned. And it well became hereupon the ac-
curate wisdom of God, not herein to indulge the vanity and
folly of man.
2. Now let it hereupon be considered, in what way was
this to be done ; not otherwise than by enacting and publishing
a universal km, that whosoever should comply with such and
such terms, expressed in that law, (as, for instance, repent-
ance towards God, and faith in Jesus Christ,) should be ac-
tually and finally pardoned and saved. And this being now
the plain state of the case, let any sober, unprejudiced mind
make a judgment of it, what this matter would come to, if there
had not been a compensation made, as a foundation to this law,
and the publication of it. They that exalt one divine perfec-
tion, to the diminution of several others ; that, for instance,
so plead for the absoluteness and sovereignty of God's mercy,
as not to adjust therewith the determinations of his wisdom,
purity, righteousness, forget that they hereby make any satis-
faction by a Redeemer unnecessary, (and by consequence make
Christ, whom they cannot deny to have suffered and died, being
innocent, to have died in vain,) nor do allow in their own
thoughts its just weight to this state of the case, — that the method
in which God was to exercise his pardoning mercy, was by
publishing an edict for that purpose, that was to extend all the
world over, and through all the successions of time. They know
this is the course the wisdom of God hath pitched upon, and
yet, taking the case as it is, would have this large, universal
tenor of the gospel to proceed upon no foregoing compensation.
The great God requires it should be proclaimed to all the world,
400 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
<' Ho, every one that thirsts, come to the waters" — u Whosoever
believes shall not perish, but have life everlasting" — "If the
wicked turn from all the sins he hath committed, he shall not
die : all his transgressions shall not be mentioned" — " Repent,
so your iniquities shall not lie your ruin" — " Come to me, all ye
that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest" —
" Go, preach the gospel to every creature ; whosoever believes
shall be saved." This is the known tenor of the gospel, directed
without limitation to all the ends of the earth ; " Look to me,
and be saved ; all sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven to
men." That gospel which determines that whosoeve? believes
shall be saved, is directed to be preached to all nations. He
did first, by his angels from heaven, indefinitely proclaim,
« Peace on earth, and good-will towards men :" and pursuant
hereto was the commission given by our ascending Lord to
his apostles and ministers that should succeed to the end of
the world. Now suppose that without reference to, or men-
tion any where made of this compensation to the justice of God,
there must be an offer made of such mercy, not to present de-
linquents only, but to all, in all future times and ages !
With what methods of government would such a course as
this agree ? I the rather insist upon this, both as apprehending
it to have its own great weight, and that perhaps it hath escaped
the consideration of the most, in treating of this important sub-
ject ; yet, what is more obvious ? It is one thing for a prince,
by a private act of grace, to pardon a particular person that
hath offended him without insisting upon any recompense ;
another thing to do it to a multitude, not only that had now
transgressed, but that should do so in any future time. Lighter
minds may perhaps at first sight reckon this would only so
much the more magnify the mercy of God above that of man,
** whose ways are not as our ways, nor his thoughts as our
thoughts." And so indeed doth the way he hath taken for the
pardoning of sin infinitely exceed all human thought, Isa. 55.
6 — S. But we must take heed of being so inconsiderately of-
ficious, as to prescribe him ways of exalting one attribute, to
the depressing of another ; and so to set him above men in
one respect, as to throw him in another below himself, yea
and below men too : that, is not more to set him above them
in point of mercy, than beneath them in point of governing
wisdom and righteousness. And if any would be so insolent
to prescribe to him, they might have thought the inconvenience
of such a universal edict might have been avoided, by his
sending an angel, or affording some particular revelation to
CHAP. VIII. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 401
every man he would have turn to him, and repent. But were
it dutiful so to correct his way of dispensation ? And consider
how this way he hath chosen would square with the ordinary
measures of government, without the foundation laid which we
are asserting. That prince would certainly never be so much
magnified for his clemency and mercy, as he would be despised
by all the world for most remarkable defects of government,
that should not only pardon whosoever of his subjects had of-
fended him, upon their being sorry for it, but go about to
provide a law that should obtain in his dominions, through all
after-time, that whosoever should offend against the govern-
ment, with whatsoever insolency, malignity, and frequency,
if they repented, they should never be punished, but be taken
forthwith into highest favour. Admit that it had been con-
gruous to the wisdom and righteousness of God, as well as his
goodness, to have pardoned a particular sinner, upon repent-
ance, without satisfaction ; yet nothing could have been more
apparently unbecoming him, than to settle a universal law,
for all future time, to that purpose ; that let as many as would
in any age, to the world's end, affront him ever so Lighly, in-
vade his rights, trample his authority, tear the constitution of
his government, they should, upon their repentance, be forgiven,
and not only not be punished, but be most highly advanced
and dignified.
And though he hath, upon the recompense made him by
his Son for all this injury, declared he will do all this ; they
accepting their Redeemer and Saviour for their Ruler and
Lord, and returning to their state of subjection and duty to
himself, in him ; yet it were enough to make the world trem-
ble and fall astonished at his foot-stool, to have peace and re-
conciliation offered them only upon such terms ; and to
behold God's own Son made a sacrifice to his justice, and a
public spectacle to angels and men, for the expiation of the
wrong done ; and enough to make all men despair of ever
finding such another sacrifice, if they should reject the terms
upon which only the value and meritoriousness of this can be
available for them. They can never, after this, have pretence
to think it a light matter to offend God, or to think that he
looks with indifferency upon sin, or counts it a small matter.
And suppose it possible a single delinquent might have been
pardoned, without such atonement made for his offence ; the
design of God's unbounded mercy not being so narrow, but so
vastly comprehensive as to require the settling of a stated
course for the reducing and saving of lost souls, in all times
vol. I. 3f
402 THE LIVING TEMPLE* PART II*
and ages ; since a Redeemer of so high dignity was to be con-
stituted for this purpose : it had been an inexpressible injury
to him, a detraction from the kindness of his undertaking and
the authority of his office, that any thing of mercy should be
shewn in this kind, but in him and by him alone.
But that it may be further understood how requisite it was
such atonement should be made, such a sacrifice offered, for the
gins of men, in order to God's settling his temple and presence
\vitli them ; we were to consider, not only what was to be re-
mitted, which we have done, but also what was to be com-
municated, namely, his blessed Spirit, in pursuance of the
same gracious purpose ; which remains to be done in what
follows in chap. ix.
CHAP. IX.
We proceed to consider, Secondly, What is to be vouchsafed : namely,
the gift or comniuni cation of the Spirit. 1. The gospel the means of
of it. 2. The inseparable connexion hereof with the former, the im-
parting of righteousness for removing the guilt of sin. 3. In what sense
the Holy Spirit of God is said to be given or communicated. 4. What
personal union signifies. 5. How, personal presence, vital union, and
communicated influences, concern the inquiry. 6. In what respect the
necessity asserted of this communication. 7. Since there is such ful-
ness of Spirit in Immanuel, purposely for communication, how comes
it to pass that he thereby raises no more such temples? 8. The neces-
sity of this communication for this purpose represented two ways; by
shewing, (1.) That the holy Scripture teaches that God doth give his"
Spirit, though under distinct notions, only through Christ. (2.) That
it was most reasonable, and therefore necessary it should be so. — The
doctrine of Scripture herein proposed under six heads.
WHEREAS there could be no restoration of this temple
of God with men (as hath been shewn) without the
concurrence of these two things — the remission of sin, and
the emission of the Holy Spirit : and that it was undertaken to
shew, that these were so great things, as that the wisdom of
God judged it not meet to vouchsafe them in another way,
<hnn by constituting the Immanuel invested with a full power,
by his own acquisition, in an unexceptionable, legal way, to
dispense, and effect both of them ; whereupon, as we have
*een, this constitution was abundantly sufficient, so it now
also must appear necessary, for this purpose. Having endea-
CHAP. IX. THE LIVING TEMPTS. 403
Toured to evince this necessity concerning the former of these,
remission of sin, upon consideration of the vast amplitude
and the peculiar way of this remission : we are now,
Secondly, to shew it concerning the latter ; namely, the
emission or communication of the Holy Spirit.
The rich sufficiency of Immanuel, so constituted, as to be
furnished with this power of giving the Spirit, hath already
been seen, and that in a two-fold respect ; namely, both in
respect of the end of its communication, that the indisposed,
unwilling heart of man might be prepared and made willing 1
again to receive the divine presence ; and in respect of the way
wherein it was to be communicated ; namely, in a way suitable
to man's intelligent nature, by representation of the glorious
object by which his soul was to be impressed. Immanuel him-
self, represented as the original, exemplary Temple ; and also
represented as made a Saerifiee : as was discoursed ch. V.
Whereby the two purposes are answered, mentioned ch. vi.
sec. 1. For which it was requisite this constitution of Imma-
nuel should be, and should be declared and made known to
us: that the blessed God might, upon terms not injurious to
himself, give his own consent : and might, in a Avay not
unsuitable to us, gain ours. Both which he is graciously
pleased to assume to himself, for his part, in his transactions
with us about this matter; leaving it for our part, being so
assisted, to consider what is represented to us : and thereupon,
actually to give our own consent.
1. Whereupon we are not to look upon the gospel of the
Son of God as a useless or unnecessary thing. It is the mini-
stration of spirit and life, (2 Cor. 3. 6.) and the power of
God to salvation to every one that believes; (Rom. 1. 16.)
an apt instrument of such impressions upon the spirits of men
as are necessary to their being formed into living temples ; the
sword of the Spirit. Not that any good work is wrought by
the inanimate gospel : the letter kills ; but it is the Spirit that
gives life, 2 Cor. 3. An instrument comes under the general
notion of means, which signify somewhat middle between the
efficient and the effect. And suppose an agent able effectually
to use them ; a sword is a fit instrument for its proper use,
supposing a hand able to wield it.
The communication therefore of the Spirit is what we are
principally now to consider. And as the constitution of Im-
manuel was sufficient, in its own kind, and for its own proper
purpose, in this restoration ; so we are to shew the necessity of
it ? for this samp purpose.
404 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART IT.
2. There ought to be a concurrence of these two, in the
Cause, the Restorer, of this temple ; namely, a fulness of
righteousness, to be so imparted as that it may be a ground
upon which sin may be forgiven ; and a fulness of Spirit, from
whence vital influence may be communicated and transfused.
Inasmuch, as it is most evident, there cannot but be a
connexion of what is correspondent thereto in the effect,
namely, the temple itself restored, it must be full of life,
1 Pet. 2. 4, 5. For can it be thought that the righteousness of
the Son of God should ever be the clothing of a carcass ?
Without union to Christ, no man can have either : neither
his righteousness nor his indwelling Spirit. Nor can they be
separable, with reference to the designed end. It is an un-
supposable thing, that one should be God's temple enlivened,
and animated by his Own Spirit, and yet be under remaining
guilt, and liable every moment to his consuming wrath ; or
that he could be any whit the better, to have all his former
guilt taken off, and be still i( dead in trespasses and sins!"
Wherefore this latter is of equal necessity. Hither therefore
we have reserved the larger discourse we intended of the gift
or communication of the Spirit, as the most proper place for
it. And by way of preparation hereto, it is necessary to con*
skier,
3. How or in what sense the Spirit is said to be given at .ill,
ojr communicated ; or to say somewhat of the true import of
the phrase giving the Spirit, It is evident, that whereas giv-
ing imports some sort of communication, there is yet a sense
wherein that blessed Spirit is, to any creature, simply incom*
municable. There is a trtpixvpw$> or mutual in-being, of the
sacred persons in the Godhead, which is most peculiar to
themselves, not communicable to creatures with them ; and
which is natural and necessary, not gratuitous, and whereto
therefore the notion of gift noway agrees. We cannot yet be
ignorant, that because the Holy Spirit is sometimes called the
Spirit of God, sometimes the Spirit of Christ, some bold, as-
suming enthusiasts, upon pretence of being possessed of this
Spirit, have taken the liberty of uttering " great swelling
words of vanity," and to talk of being godded with God, and
christed with Christ. Yet, because the expressions of giving
the Spirit, of receiving, of having the Spirit, of our being in
the Spirit, and of his being and dwelling, or abiding in us,
arc phrases of known and frequent use in Scripture ; whether
in relation to extraordinary purposes and operations, peculiar
to some ? or to ordinary } common to all that me sincere in the
CHAP. IX. THE LTVING TEMPLE. 405
Christian church : such expressions are therefore by no means
to be rejected or disused ; but cautiously used, and understood
in a sound and sober sense. We find no difficulty in appre-
hending how God is said to give any thing diverse or distinct
from himself; as houses, lands, riches, &c. : when in the
mean time we will confess it not so easy to conceive of his giv-
ing what is within the verge of Deity, or that is of and b( long-
ing to himself. Some have thought, that by the Spirit given,
we are to understand the operations and effects of the Spirit, ex-
tr •aordinary, as of prophecy, working miracles, &c. and or-
dinary, (which concern our present purpose,) the graces,
habits, acts, and influences of the Spirit. Others, finding it
so expressly said of the Spirit himself, spoken of as a person,
that he shall be given, he shall abide with, and shall or doth
dwell with or in you; (John 14. 15, 16. Ron.. 8. in divers
verses of those chapters ;) have thought it too diminishing, and
ben ath the sense of those places, to understand them of any
thing less than the \ery person of the Spirit. And Borne, rec-
koning the particle in to import union, have therefore incogi-
tantly spoken of a personal union between the Holy Spirit and
believers. Others, more cautiously, of his indwelling, per-
sonal presence in them ; as a greater thing, and more answer-
able to the letter of such texts, than their only having in then*
his graces or gracious influences. If any one may adventure
to give a censure and judgment upon all this, and to shew,
4. What personal union signifies, I conceive that if any will
make use of metaphysical terras, they should take them in the
sense wherein metaphysicians use them; which they do not,
who speak of a personal union between Christ, or the Spirit of
Christ and believers. For by personal union is never wont
to be meant a union of one person with another, but a union
of the singular nature with this peculiar manner of subsistence,
whereby is constituted one person ; that is, that by personal
union is meant, not the subjects of union, as if it only signified
that several persons remaining distinct were yet some way or
other united with one another ; which, so taken, were a very-
lax expression, and which, according to the various capaci-
ties persons may admit of, would be of vast extent, and may
reach to domestical, political, and I know not how many more
unions ; which cannot but be much beneath what such men
must be understood to intend : but that expression, personal,
union, means the result of union, whereby the mentioned two
become one person, And therefore they that speak in this
gtricter and more proper sense of personal union of the Spirit
406 THE LIVING TEMPLE. VATlTU.
and believers, do most unwarily assert a nearer union between
the Spirit and believers than that of the sacred persons in the
Godhead with each other. For they who acknowledge them
one in Godhead, do yet as commonly deny them to be one
person, and assert them to be ever three distinct persons : and
this must be as much above what such men will avow and
stand by. Therefore that expression can, in this case, admit
no tolerable sense at all, distinctly expressive of any thing
that can be truly meant by it. But,
5. How do personal presence, vital union, and communicated
influences, concern the subject ? for,
(1.) TW, of a personal indwelling presence, can by no
means be denied. The plain import of many texts of Scripture
is so full to this purpose, that to take them otherwise, exclu-
sively of this, is not to interpret Scripture, but deny it.
(2.) Yet this expression of a personal indwelling presence,
taken alone, doth not signify any peculiar distinguishing privi-
lege of believers from others ; but what is common to all men and
creatures. For can we acknowledge God to be omnipresent, and
deny it of any person of the Godhead ? Therefore, the Spirit's
personal presence alone doth not distinguish believers from
others, even though we suppose that presence to be ever so
intimate : God is all, and in all, more inward or intimate to
us than we are to ourselves ; an assertion carrying its own
evidence so fully in itself, as easily to be transferred from the
Pagan academy to the Christian church, so as generally to ob-
tain in it.
(3.) That therefore such as speak of the Spirit's being pre-
sent, by his gracious influences, operations, and effects, sup-,
pose his personal presence, from which they can no more be
severed, than the beams from the body of the sun. The way
of divine operation being also by an immed lateness both vir-
ttdis Sc sitppositi, of both power and person, as it is common*
ly, and fitly enough, wont to be spoken.
If any therefore should speak of the Spirit's personal pre-.
sence, as secluding gracious effects wrought thereby,- they
do not herein say a greater thing than the others, but much
less. For though there cannot be any gracious effects without
the present person of the Spirit, yet we all know he maybe
personally present where he produces no such effects : it is
therefore his being so present, as to be the productive cause of
such blessed effects, that is any one's peculiar advantage. It
is very possible to have the personal presence of some great
and munificent personage, and be nothing the better for it, if
CHAP. IX. TliE LIVING TEMPLE. 407
his favour be shut up towards me. It is only 1) is commu-
nicative presence that I can be the better for, which depends
upon free good-will.
(4.) It is therefore only the free, gracious presence of the
Spirit, that can be the matter of gift and of promise ; not that
which is necessary, or impossible not to be, which is peculiar
and distinguishing. Mere personal presence, as the divine
essence itself, is every where, by necessity of nature, not by
vouchsafement of grace ; and therefore no way comports with
the notion of giving, or of promise.
(5.) Therefore giving the Spirit imports, in the full sense of
it, two things :
[1.] Somewhat real, when he vouchsafes to be in us, as the
spring and fountain of gracious communications, influences,
and effects, which are most distinct from himself. For the
cause is uncreated : the effect is the new creature, with what-
soever was requisite to produce, sustain, improve, and per-
fect it ; though so like its cause, in nature, as to bear its
name. " That which is born of the Spirit, is spirit," John 3.
6. And because he is said to be in Christians, who are truly
such, and they in him ; which are words very expressive of
Union ; that union is most properly vital, as whereof holy life
is the immediate result: "I live, yet not J, but Christ"
(that is, by his Spirit) « liveth in me." Nor, otherwise, could
such be living temples, animated from lmmanuel.
[2.] Somewhat relative, tiie collation of a right to such a
presence, for such purposes ; which hath no difficulty. We
easily conceive how the meanest persons may, by vouchsafe-
ment, have relation to, and interest in, the greatest ; so God
gives Himself, his Son, his Spirit, to them that covenant with
him, as we also take the Father, Son, and Spirit, to be our
God ; as the baptismal form signifies. And when we so co-
venant, then hath this giving its full and complete sense.
And now, having thus far seen in what sense the blessed Spirit
of God maybe said to be given or communicated, we come
next briefly to shew, as the other intended premise,
6. In what respect we are here, pursuantly to the drift and
design of the present discourse, to affirm a necessity, in re-
ference to this communication. It may admit a twofold re-
ference : backward, to the constitution of lmmanuel, on which
it depends ; — forward, to the restoration of God's temple,
which depends on it. There was a consequent, moral neces-
sity of this communication ; upon what the lmmanuel was, did,
suffered, and acquired. There was an antecedent, natural
408 TJJE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
necessity of it, in order to what was to be effected, and done
by it. In the former respect, it "was necessary in point of right,
as it stood related to its meriting cause. In the latter respect,
it was necessary in fact, as it stood related to its proper de-
signed effect, which could only be brought about by it. In
short ; the communication of the Spirit was necessary to the
restoring of this temple. The constitution of Immanuel was
necessary to the communication of the Spirit.
This former necessity hath, in great part, been evinced al-
ready, in representing the ruinous state of God's temple
among men, when Immanuel undertook the reparation of it ;
and in treating of his abundant rich sufficiency for this under-
taking. Yet, there will be further occasion to say more of
it in the progress of the following discourse ; the other will
more directly come under our consideration in what follows ;
wherein, however, we must have reference to both promiscu-
ously, pursuantly to what hath been said.
For as we have shewn, that the immense fulness of both
righteousness and Spirit, treasured up in Immanuel, could
not but be abundantly sufficient for the purpose of restoring
God's temple ; and have also shewn, that his fulness of righte-
ousness was in order to the remission of sin, as well necessary,
as sufficient, to the same purpose ; so it remains further to be
shewn, that his fulness of Spirit, as it was sufficient, so is the
emission or immission of it also necessary, for that part it
was to have in this restoration. And that the whole course of
divine dispensation, in restoring of this temple, imports a
steady comportment with this necessity in both the mentioned
kinds of it. Therefore, the Immanuel being the procurer of
this restoration, as this may fitly be styled the temple of Christ y
or of God in him ; so the Spirit, being the immediate actor
herein, is it also styled the temple of the Holy Ghost, as we
find in many texts of Scripture, Eph. 2. 20, 21. 1 Cor. 3. 16.
and 6. 19. 2 Cor. 6. 16. 1 Peter 2. 4, 5. which the reader
may consult at leisure. And they all shew, how important
and necessary a part, the blessed Spirit hath in this merciful
and glorious work. As withal, it being considered what
relation the Spirit bears to Christ, as he is Immanuel and Me-
diator between God and man ; it evidently shews the necessity
of his being constituted and made such, in order to the Spirit's
part herein.
God's own judgment is the surest measure to direct ours of
what was necessary, in this case. And so far as the ground of
his judgment is, by himself, made visible to us, we are neither-
3
CHAP. IX. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 409
to put out our own eyes, nor turn them away from beholding
it. We are to reckon it always safe and modest to follow him,
by an obsequious, ductile judgment of things apparent, and
which he offers to our view, or appeals to us about them. To
go before him by a preventive judgment of the secret things
that belong to him or pretend to give reasons, or an account
of his matters, where he gives none himself, argues rashness,
arrogance, and self-confidence, whereof we can give no ac-
count. But our judgment may be truly said to follow his,
when he having in his word declared his choice of such a
course, which he steadily pursues in his consequent dispensa-
tions ; we thereupon conclude that course to be most fit-, and
that what he judged most fit, was to him (as formerly we have
insisted) necessary. Therefore may we with just confidence
undertake to shew,
That his declared, chosen, constant course of giving the
Spirit, for restoring his temple with men, is to do it in and
by Christ, or Immanuel, the constituted Mediator between
God and man. And that it was apparently reasonable and be-
coming of himself so to do.
Whereby the necessity will appear, both of his giving the
Spirit, for the restoring of his temple ; and of his settling the
constitution of Immanuel, or such a Mediator, in order to the
giving his Spirit.
Only, before we proceed more distinctly to discourse these
things, it seems requisite to consider and discuss a difficulty,
which may give great amusement to the minds of many,
namely,
7. That since, by the drift and tendency of this discourse,
it would appear, that the Son of God, Immanuel, God with
us, hath by his own dear purchase, a fulness of Spirit in him
for this blessed work ; and now hath it in his power to raise
temples every where at his pleasure, That yet so great a part
of the world is still desolate, full of idols' temples ; yea, the
visible temple of God full of idols, destitute of the divine
Spirit, under the poisonous influence of the prince of the power of
the air, the spirit that works in the hearts of the children of dis-
obedience, Eph. 2. 2. and Ive^yoivr^ — by an efficacious energy^
as the word there used emphatically signifies. For what hath
that accursed spirit more power to destroy, than the Son of
God, manifested to dissolve and destroy the works of the devil ;
and his blessed Spirit have to save ?
Some considerations tending to disamuse men's minds about
vol. i. 3q
410 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PAftT II.
this matter, may make way for our clearer and less-interrupted
progress in the following discourse. Therefore consider,
( 1 . ) That the raising up of temples to God in the souls of men,
with the dispossessing of that wicked one, must by no means
be understood to be the work of mere power ; as if no other
excellency of the divine Being were concerned in it. Nor is it
fit to say (as elsewhere is insisted) that God can do every tiling
that almighty power can do. Almighty power gives us not
an adequate notion of God. He is every other excellency as
well as power ; and can do nothing but what agrees with every
other perfection of his nature, wisdom, justice, holiness, truth,
&c. as well as his power.
(2.) The Son of God, Immanuel, having obtained an in-
finite fulness of power to reside in himself, cannot be expected
to exert it to the utmost, as natural, unintelligent agents do.
But so far as is suitable to the proper ends of his undertaking,
and the office which he bears.
(3.) It ought to be deeply considered, as a truth both of
clearest evidence and great importance, (though perhaps it
may have escaped the thoughts of many,) that the principal
end of our Lord's undertaking and office, was not the salva-
tion of men, but the glory of God. This is that whereupon
his design did ultimately terminate. The other he could only
intend secondarily, and as a means to this ; otherwise, he would
make the creature his chief end, and place upon it a most ap-
propriate divine prerogative, to be the last, as he is the first,
to all things : which is said of the great God, in reference
to this very case, the saving of some, and rejecting of others.
In contemplation whereof, the apostle, crying out, O the depth !
asserts God's absolute liberty, as debtor to no man, (Rom. II.
33 — 35.) and subjoins the true reason hereof, That of him, and
by him, and to him, are all things, that to him might be
glory, &c. This is the avowed design of our Lord Christ's
office, in both his lowest humiliation, and highest exaltation.
The desire of being saved from the (approaching) hour and
power of darkness vanishes, and gives place to this, — Father,
glorify thy name, John 12. 27, 28. When, for his obedience
to death, that of the cross, he is highly exalted — all are to
confess him Lord, to the praise and glory of God. Phil. 2.
S, 11. He, who is the most competent and most rightful
Judge, determines when it will be more for the glory of
God, to dispossess the strong man armed, being himself the
stronger, and erect that house into a temple : and when it
CHAP. IX. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 411
will most serve this his great end, to leave the strong man
armed still in his possession, and finally to doom the possessor
and the possessed to take their lot together. In the former
ease, there are vessels unto honour, framed by his own hand,
to the praise of (lie glory of grace, Eph. 1. 6. In the latter,
vessels unto dishonour, to glorify his power, by making known
his wrath and just resent menis. For that honourable purpose,
none are of themselves fit; but he makes them meet (Col. 1.
12.) for that glorious state, before he makes them partakers of
it : but none serve the dishonourable use, but who are, of them-
selves, vessels of wrath fitted for destruction, Rom. 9. 22. Our
Lord was faithful as a Son ; and was therefore content to die
upon a cross, that he might, in a way against which the
strictest justice should not reclaim, obtain to himself a power
of giving an apostate world a time of trial ; and as men should
acquit themselves, by complying or not complying with his
methods, glorify the Father, whose glory he sought, as
being sent by him, and vindicate the rights of the divine
government, both in them that are " saved, and in them that
perish.'"
(4.) But it may gain us further advantage, to consider the
great God doth not pursue ends, as we are wont to do, who
commonly apprehend ourselves to stand in need of the things
we pursue as our ends. But he acts agreeably to his self-suf-
ficient fulness, who dwells not in temples made with hands, nor
in any human temple, u as if he needed any thing, seeing he
gives to all life and breath, and all things ;" (Acts 17. 25.)
and expects hereupon, that men should seek after him : — as no-
thing is more fit, than that indigency and necessity should
crave and supplicate unto rich and abounding fulness. Princes
glory in their acquisitions, and the increased multitude of their
subjects, from whom they have an increase of power, and the
ampler revenues. They glory in receiving ; He in giving,
in making his diffusive goodness flow among his creatures.
Nor hath he any cause to be anxious about the event, or how
his communications are received $ beholding always, with in-
finitely higher complacency, the perfect rectitude of his own
dispensations, than their felicity, though he take a secondary
pleasure in that too, when it is the result of the former. He
glories, as he requires us to do, (Jer. 9. 24.) that he exer-
ciseth loving kindness, judgment, and righteousness in the earth,
because in those he delighteth.
(5.) Though the goodness and loving-kindness of God be
immense, and without limit ; yet, the exercise of it is within
412 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
certain limits, which annexed judgment or the most exquisite
wisdom prescribes to it. He waits to be gracious — and be-
cause he is the God of judgment, they are blessed that wait
for him, Isa. SO. 18. There is a critical season and nick of
time, which men are concerned to wait for; and because to
every purpose there is time and judgment, therefore is the
misery of men great, Eccl. 8. 6. For man also knows not his
tim°, ch. 9. 12. The most perfect wisdom hath drawn out a
certain verge, within which the most special goodness confines,
ordinarily, its communications : otherwise, what means that,
■ — if thou continue in his goodness ? Rom. ]]. 22. with that of
Jude 21. Keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the
mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. While we
converse with the ever Blessed One, within the region of his
own love and goodness, imbibing, and taking in his free and
gracious communications, and still craving and expecting
more, we keep within the sacred vital circle and inclosure ;
without which, is darkness and the shadow of death. We
breathe in the element of life, by grateful aspirations, and
respirations, that cannot be unpleasant to ourselves, but must
be infinitely more pleasant to him ; who reckons it a more
blessed thing to give than to receive. We are always to re-
member, that our state is that of expectants : that we keep
ourselves in the love of God, looking, waiting, always onward,
until we attain eternal life. Our waiting hath the annexed
promise of blessedness, as above, Isa. 30. 18. and Prov. 8. 34.
And is most becomingly required, as a just homage unto so-
vereign goodness.
(6.) That admirable goodness of God, which shews itself in
raising up temples in this vile world by the Spirit of Immanuel,
claims our subordinate co-operation as under-builders in this
structure ; We are to work, because he works, of his good
pleasure, Phil. 2. 12, 13. Which signifies both his liberty
and delight in working. It is said, 1 Cor. 3. 9. Ye are God's
building : yet, it is also said, v. 14. If any man's work abide,
which he hath built, &c.
One of great note in the ancient Christian church, discours-
ing of this passage, Says, rj o/xoSo/Ari a ts tz'/vith, a.K\x ru hmom.
■ — The building is not the artist's, or workman's, but the Lord's,
that owns it ; and who is to be, as a little after he speaks,
vms ri^tis, a.vTosivo»t<&, (Chrysost. in 1 ad Cor.) the inhabitant of
it. And inasmuch as we are to be living, intelligent temples,
we are also to be ourselves labourers and workmen (as well as
they who are to be so by special ofiice) in this building. But
CHAP. IX. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 413
if our work be pulling down, stifling; convictions, suppressing;
desires, fear, &c. Do we provoke the Lord to jealousy, by-
keeping up the service of the idols' temple, and profaning his
own, 1 Cor. 10. 22? or have we forgot who hath said, Ven-
geance is mine, even for treading under foot his Son Immanuel,
and despiting his Spirit of grace, Heb. 10. 29, ^>0 ? The high
pleasure the blessed God takes in his own gracious communi-
cations, gratefully received ; and his just resentment and dis-
pleasure for the contemptuous refusal of them, may be under-
stood some way to measure one another. Both may be con-
jectured from this text of Scripture, after such sort, as the
great, things of God can be conceived of, by sucli mean mor-
tals. The Spirit of grace ! of all kindness! love! goodness!
benignity ! sweetness ! O the ineffable delight that blessed
Spirit must take in its own effusions, tending to the recovery,
the healing and saving of a lost soul, when there is an agreeable
comportment therewith ! But the despiting of such a Spirit !
Who can conceive or apprehend, deeply enough, the horror
of this crime ! the thwarting the design of so compassionate
goodness ! or of severity, or soreness of punishment, it shall be
thought worthy of !
The whole work of faith, that is, thnt entire work, necessary
to be wrought upon the soul of a man, in order to his future
felicity, and that by God's own power is called the fulfilling
or satisfying, the good pleasure of his goodness, 2 Thess. 1.11.
O the plenitude of satisfaction which our blessed Lord takes
in the fulfilling the good pleasure of his goodness, when the
methods are complied with, according whereto he puis forth
his power for effect ing such a work ! But if we can apprehend
what it is to cross a man of power in his pleasures : what is it
to withstand the great God in his pleasures ! even the pleasures
of his goodness! His most connatural, delightful pleasures!
Some estimate we can make, by supposing a wealthy, potent,
wise, and good man, intent upon reclaiming a poor, wretched,
undone, perverse neighbour; if his supplies and counsels be
gratefully received, how pleasant is it to his benefactor ! if
often repeated, they are scornfully rejected, how vexing is the
disappointment !
(7.) We must know, there are vincible operations of that
Spirit, leading on to those that are victorious, being complied
with ; otherwise, to the most terrible vengeance. When it
was charged upon the Jews, Acts 7. 51. that they did always
resist the Holy Ghost, as their fathers did : it is implied,
he was always striving, though more rarely, to victory. But
414 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
when it is said, Prov. 1. 23. Turn at my reproof, could any
essay to turn, without some influence of the Spirit ? But that
complied with, tends to pouring forth a copious effusion,
not to be withstood. The less sensible adminicida, the
gentler aids and insinuations of grace, lead (o what shall
overcome.
(8.) Without such an overpowering effusion, man's impo-
feiscy will be acknowledged, by those that understand either
the Scriptures or themselves. But how perverse is the inference,
that therefore they are to sit still ! No ; therefore to pray, cry,
strive, wait, more than they that wait for the morning, until he
be gracious, and shew mercy.
(H.) Therefore, for men to be destitute of the Spirit is crimi-
nal : and as much so, not to be filled with the Spirit, as to be
drunk with wine : the same authority that forbids the one, en-
joins the other, Eph, 5: 18.
(10.) But though it be God's ordinary method, to proceed
gradually in raising temples to himself in this world, he never
so binds his own hands, as not to do extraordinary acts of
grace and favour, when he thinks fit; and without any dan-
ger of forcing men's wills, or offering violence to human na-
ture : than which imagination nothing is more absurd ; both
because,
fl.] The forcing of a man's will, implies a contradiction
in the terras ; for Ave have no other notion of force, than the
making one do a thing against his will. But it is impossi-
ble a man should will or be willing against his will. He that
hath made a man's soul and all its powers, well enough
knows how to govern him without violence, and by (though
ever so sudden) an iramission of his light and grace, effec-
tually to change a man's will without forcing it. And also
because,
[2.] ?no man that hath the present use of his own facul-
ties, will think they can be injured by divine light and grace ;
or that they hurt the nature of man, which they manifestly
tend to restore, improve, and perfect. Yet no man is to ex-
pect, that because the blessed God vouchsafes to make some
rarer instances of dealing by way of sudden surprise with the
spirits of men, that this should be his ordinary method ; but,
more usually, to awaken them into some consideration of that
forlorn state, while they are destitute of the divine presence,
and their souls the haunts and residence of devils, instead of
temples of the Holy Ghost. And to make them know, that
he counts the gift of his Son, and Spirit, too great things to be
4
CHAP. IX. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 415
despised, or not earnestly sought ; after he hath given hope of
their being attained ; or that the neglect thereof should not have
a very terrible vindication : letting men feel that the despising
the riches of his goodness, which gently leads to repentance,
is nothing else but ei treasuring up wrath against the day of
wrath," and the revelation of his righteous Judgment. Jnas-
much as he owes it to himself, to let them know that the high.
and lofty One that inhabits eternity, needs not seek to them for
a house, Isa. 66. 1, 2. And as to what in ordinary course,
he judges necessary (lest men should in all this be thought
justly querulous) he appeals to themselves, Isa. 5. 4. What
could I have cone more? Are not my ways equal ? Ezek. 18.
8. Whereupon we now proceed to shew the two things,
before intimated.
That the Holy Spirit is not otherwise given, than in or by
Immanuel, or for Christ's sake ; and, How necessary, or (w Inch
comes fully to the same) how highly reasonable it was in it-
self, and may appear to us, that so mighty a gift, and of this
peculiar nature and kind, should not be vouchsafed unto men,
upon other terms, «r in any other way, than this.*
(1.) For the former of these; That the Spirit of God is
actually given, upon this account on'y, his own word suffici-
ently assures us. And who can so truly inform us, upon
what considerations he doth this, or that, as he himself? Let
us then, with equal, unbiassed minds, consider the tenor
and import of what we find spoken in the holy Scripture
about this matter, which I conceive may be truly summed
up thus, namely,
[1.] That the Holy Spirit is given to this purpose of re-
storing the temple -of God with men, with the worship and
fruitions thereof, under a twofold notion, — of a Builder, and
an Inhabitant.
[2.] That He is given under both notions, or for both these
purposes, for Christ's sake, and in consideration of his death
and sufferings ; though they have not influence to the obtain-
ing of this gift, for both these purposes, in the same way,
but with some difference, to be afterwards explained in what
follows.
[3.] That it was not the immediate effect of his suffering,
that this blessed Spirit should be forthwith given to this or that
particular person ; but that all the fulness of his grace be giyen
into Christ's power, and the right of dispensing it, annexed
* This is considered in chap. xi. page 151.
416 THE LITTNG TEMPLE. PART II.
to his office, as he is the Redeemer of sinners, and Mediator
between God and them, for the accomplish ing the end of
his office, the ceasing of controversies, enmities, and dis-
affection* on our part, God ward.
[4.] That hereupon, its actual communication for both the
mentioned purposes, is immediately from Christ or by and
through him.
[5.] That it is given by Christ, under the former notion, or
for the former purpose of rebuilding God's temple, as a sove-
reign, or an absolute plenipotentiary in the affairs of lost
souls, in a more arbitrary way, so as not to be claimable, upon
any foregoing right.
[6.] That he gives it, under the latter notion, and in order
to a continued abode and inhabitation, as an oeconomus, or
the steward of the household of God proceeding herein,
by fixed rule ; published in the gospel, according whereto
the subjects of this following communication, being qualified
for it, by the former, may, with certainty, expect it upon
the prescribed terms, and claim it as a right ; he having, by
the merit of his blood, obtained that they might do so.
CHAP. X.
I. Thefirst of the six heads mentioned in the preceding chapter, page4I5,
insisted on — That the Spirit is given both as a Builder, and as an
Inhabitant of this temple. 1. Scripture testimony concerning the for-
mer of those, and the latter. 2. The Spirit given for the sake of
Christ's death and sufferings. 3. Anciently, the blessing of Abraham,
and his seed from age to age, upon this account. 4. More copiously
and to other nations, when the fulness of time was come. 5. Christ's
death hath influence for these two purposes with much difference, to
be afterwards explained. II. Colossians 1. 19 — 21. largely opened.
III. A digression relating thereto. The principal import of that text,
to shew the dependence Christ's whole work of reconciliation, both of
Cod to us, and of us to Cod, had upon his sacrifice on the cross. The
latter whereof (our reconciliation toGod) is effected by his Spirit, obtain-
ed by that sacrifice. Other texts to the same purpose. IV. The sub-
ject is resumed, and it is further noted, 6. That the Spirit is expressly
said to be given by Christ, or in his name, &c. 7. Given for building
or preparing a temple, by a less certain, known rule.
I. 1%X^^ ^ c * us see > as *° eacu °f these, whether this be
jj% not the plain doctrine of the Scriptures in this matter.
CHAP. X. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 417
Hrsf, For the first of these, it hath been sufficiently shewn
already, and the common experience of all the world shews-,
that until this blessed Spirit be given, the temple of God is
every where all in ruin : that therefore he cannot dwell until
he build, and that he builds that he may dwell, (the case
and his known design being considered,) are things, here-
upon, plain in themselves, and are plainly enough spoken in
Scripture. Let us therefore,
1. Consider the Scripture testimony concerning both these.
When the apostle had told the Christians of Corinth, (1 Cor.
3. 9.) "Ye are God's building," he shortly after adds, (in
the same chapter, v. 16.) " Know ye not that ye are the
temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?"
This temple, being a living thing, (as 1 Pet. 2. 5. represents
it,) the very building and formation of it is, in the more
peculiar sense, generating ; and because it is to be again
raised up out of a former ruinous state, wherein it lay dead,
and buried in its own ruins, this new production is regenera-
tion. And do we need to be put in mind whose work that is ?
that « it is the Spirit that quickeneth ?" (John 6. 63.) or of
what is so industriously inculcated by our Lord, (eh. 3. v. 3,
5, 6, &c.) and testified under the seal of his fourfold amen,
that this new birth must be by the Spirit ? And we have both
notions again conjoined, Eph. 2. For having been told, (v.
18.) that both Jews and Gentiles have by one Spirit access
to the Father, so as to be no longer strangers and at a dis-
tance, but made nigh to God; (v. 19. compared with v. 13.)
it is said, (v. 20.) We " are built upon the foundation of the
apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief
Corner-stone;" and again added, (v. 21.) " In whom all the
building, fitly framed together, groweth (as a living thing)
unto an holy temple in the Lord." After all which, the
end and use of this building (implied in the name of a
temple) are more expressly subjoined, (v. 22.) " In whom
also ye are builded together an habitation of God, through
the Spirit." It is therefore sufficiently evident, that the Spirit
is given under these distinct notions, and for these several
purposes, the one subordinated to the other, namely, both
as a builder and a dweller.
2. That the Spirit is given for Christ's sake, whether for
the one purpose or the other, is as expressly signified as any
thing in the whole gospel. For what means it, that he is
said to be given in his name ? John 14. 20. and 15. 26. and that
the work he does, being given, is said to be done in his name ?
vol.i. 3n
4.18 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
1 Cor. 6. 11. u Ye are sanctified in the name of our Lord
Jesus Christ, and by the Spirit of our God."
Yea, arid that it is given in consideration of his sufferings
and death, is not less plainly spoken : for not only are the
immediate and most peculiar operations of this Spirit, as-
cribed to his death, (1 Pet. 2. 24.) " He himself bare our
sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sin,
should live unto righteousness ;" but the imparting of the Spirit
itself, is represented as the design and end of those suffer-
ings, Gal. 3. 13, 14. "He was made a curse for us; for
cursed is every one that hangefh on a tree, that the blessing of
Abraham might come on the Gentiles, that we might receive
the promise of the Spirit," &c.
3. It was the same way, and on the same terms, upon the
largeness and certainty of the divine prospect, and foresight
touching Christ's future sufferings, that this was the blessing
of Abraham and, his posterity, long before he suffered: that
God gave them, of old, his Spirit to instruct them; (Neh.
9. 20.) which is not obscurely implied, when, looking back
upon the days of old, they are said to have " rebelled, and
vexed his Spirit ;" (Isa. 63. 9, 10.) and when Stephen tells
them, (Acts 7. 51.) "Ye do always resist the Holy Ghost;
as your fathers did, so do ye," it is implied that even from
age to age that blessed Spirit was striving with them ; (chil-
dren and fathers :) for there could be no resistance, where
there was no striving : and that, in those former ages, that
Holy Spirit was active among them upon Christ's account, and
by the procurement of his future sacrifice, (presignified by
their many sacrifices,) is also sufficiently intimated, in that,
when it is said, That under Moses, they did eat and drink
spiritual meat and drink ; they are said to have drank of
the rock that followed them ; and it is added, that rock was
Christ. And by what provocations could they be supposed
more to resist and vex the Holy Spirit, than by those where-
with, in the day of provocation and temptation, they are
said to have lusted in the wilderness, and tempted God in
the desert, (Ps. 106. 14. Ps. 78. Ps. 95. Heb. 3.) by which
they are expressly said to have tempted Christ, 1 Cor. 10. 9.
And certainly the privilege was inestimably great, (though
they too generally little esteemed it, and made little ad-
vantage of it,) that when the most of the world besides was
nothing else but waste, neglected wilderness, fhey should
be an inclosed vineyard, under the long continued droppings
and dews of heavenly influence. For it was not but upon high
CHAP. X. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 419
and long provocation, that at last God commands his clouds
to rain no more rain upon it, Isa. 5. 6. How singular a favour
was it to be the appropriate plantation, vineyard, and garden
of God, taken in from so vast and wild a desert! and that the
God of .Abraham Mould so long continue the relation, and be
their God ; to bless them with the choice of his blessings, those
whereof his own Spirit was the peculiar source and spring!
4. But when the fulness of time, and the season for the ac-
tual immolation of that Sacrifice, (once for all, to be offered
up,) was now come, that the immense fulness of its value and
virtue might be duly demonstrated and glorified ; down goes
the inclosure, which the amplitude and extensiveness of God's
kind design could no longer endure : and as some time the
great prophetic oracle given to Abraham, must take effect,
In thy seed (and it is said, not of seeds, as of many, but of
seed, as of one, namely, Christ, Gal. 3. 16.) shall all the na-
tions of the earth be blessed ; this is the time. Now must the
blessing of Abraham come upon the Gentiles. Nor could
any time have been more fitly chosen, that the copiousness
and vast diffusion of the effect, might demonstrate and magnify
the power and fulness of the cause, and even lead the eyes of
all unto it. The drawing, so generally of all men, was that
which must dignify the cross, and incite all eyes to behold
and adore the Son of man lifted up, John 12. 32. and in the
midst of death, even with his dying breath, sending forth so
copious, and far-spreading a diffusion of spirit and life ! And
now had it only been said loosely and at large, that this was
brought about by his dying, that might admit a great latitude
of sense, and give some room for sinister interpretation. The
intendment of the expression might be thought sufficiently
answered, if, in any way, his dying did occasion good im-
pressions upon the minds of men. But when the effect is ex-
pressly ascribed to his dying so, as the cause, that is, to his
being lifted up, to his being made a curse in dying, by hang-
ing on a tree, and a curse for us to redeem us thereby from
the legal curse which lay upon us before ; the curse of the
law, the doom which the violated law laid upon us, of having
(as is apparently meant) the Spirit withheld from us, that there-
upon the great and rich blessing might come upon us, of hav-
ing that holy Spirit freely, and without further restraint, com-
municated to us ; this puts the matter out of all dispute, that it
was in consideration of his dying, that God now gives his
Spirit, and leaves no place for contending against it unto any.
420 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PAItT II.
who have not more mind to object, than they can have pre-
tence for it.
It is then, the plain doctrine of the Scriptures, that the
Spirit is given for the restoring of God's temple with men, for
the sake of Christ's death and suffering, who was Immanuel.
and, in his own person, the original temple, out of which,
each single temple was to arise and spring up, as well as he
was the exemplary temple, unto which they were all to be
conformed.
5. But whereas his sufferings and death have their influence
differently, to the Spirit's building of any such particular se-
condary temple, and to his replenishing and inhabiting it : that
difference we shall find is not inexplicable or very difficult to
be represented according to the tenor of the Scriptures also.
In order whereto it will be of use to add, — That, as the im-
mediate effect of his sufferings and death, the Spirit in all the
fulness thereof, is first given info his power, and the right of
communicating it annexed to his office, as he is the Immanuel,
the Redeemer of sinners, and Mediator between God and them ;
that it might implant what was necessary, and root out what
should be finally repugnant, either to their duty towards him
or their felicity in him.
That this was the end of his office, the very notion of a
mediator between God and men, doth plainly intimate ;
(I Peter 3. 18.) " For Jesus Christ himself suffered once, the
just for the unjust, to bring us to God." Which must signify
not only that he was to render God accessible, expiating by
his blood our guilt ; but also, to make us willing to come to
him, vanquishing by his Spirit, our enmity procured also by
his suffering, the just for the unjust, without both we could
not be brought to God, which was, we see, the end of his suf-
fering.
II. Here we are to open Col. 1. 19, 20. That all fulness
did, upon his suffering, reside in him, for this purpose is as
plainly signified by that remarkable connexion, a For it pleased
the Father that in him should all fulness dwell — and, having
made peace by the blood of his cross, by him to reconcile all
things to himself." The Father is not in the original text,
(the verb being left impersonal,) but is fitly and necessarily
understood ; for whose pleasure can this be supposed to be,
but the Father's ? And so the current of discourse doth thus
run smooth. " The Father was pleased that all fulness should
dwell in him. having made peace by the blood of his cross, by
4
CUAF. X. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 421
him to reconcile all things to himself; even by him : for that
is inculcated a second time, ll was judged necessary to this
reconciling design, that all fulness should dwell in him. But
who did thus judge ? The Father was pleased it should be so;
but upon what consideration ? " having made peace by the
blood of his cross." The same ffe, that was pleased all ful-
ness should dwell in him, was so pleased, as baring made
peace by the blood of his cross ; for the syntax cannot admit
that hfwoiro'iva-au; should be spoken of the Son ; but the lather
(as agent, agreeably to that 2 Cor. 5. 18. "All tilings ate of
God, who hath reconciled us to himself, by Jesus Christ'*)
having made peace ; or pitched upon this method, and laid
this foundation of making peace (for it is usual to speak of a
thing as done, when it is put into a sure way of being so) by
the blood of his Son's cross, was now content that all fulness
should dwell in him, to be diffused by him, through the
world, in order to his having temples prepared, inhabited,
replenished with divine glory every where : not in hcaveis
only, which was already full of them, or where it was easy to
suppose he might find such temples ready prepared in all
quarters ; but even on earth also, where all was waste and de-
solate, nothing to be seen but forlorn ruins.
III. And, by the way, (that we may make some, not uu-
useful, digression,) it is very ordinary in Scripture, \o join
things in the same period, as if they were of equal concern-
ment, when, though they arc mentioned together, their con-
cernment is very di fie rent, and the main stress is intended to
be laid but on the one of tliem ; the other being placed there,
either as an opposite, the more to illustrate and set oiY that
with which it is joined ; or as an introduction, a thing sup-
posed, and which had place already, unto which the other is
more principally necessary to be added ; and then is the form
of speech, manifestly, elliptical, but so, as that to considering-
readers it is easy to apprehend what is to be supplied. As when.
the apostle speaks thus, (Rom. 6. 17.) " God be thanked, that
yc were the servants of sin, but ye have obeyed from the heart
that form of doctrine which was delivered you ;" doth the
apostle intend to thank God for their having been the ser-
vants of sin? No man can think so. But that, whereas, or
notwithstanding, they had been so, (which was the thing to be
supplied,) they did now obey, &c. So that (John S, 5.) " Ex-
cept a man be born of water, and the Spirit, he cannot enter
into the kingdom of God." It was certainly none of our Sa-
viour's design to assert the. absolute, universal, necessity of
422 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
washing with water, equally, with being born of the Spirit ;
but whereas it was the known manner among the Jews to ad-
mit proselytes to their religion, by baptism (which was then
reckoned as a new birth) his design was, without rejecting that
as useless, (which he intended to continue in the Christian,
church,) to represent the greater, and most indispensable ne-
cessity, of being born of the Spirit, added to the other, and
that without this, the other alone would avail nothing. When
again it is said, (James 1. 9, 10.) " Let the brother of low de-
gree rejoice in that he is exalted ;■ but the rich, in that he is
made low ;" it cannot be thought, that both these were equally
intended to be enjoined ; but the former is supposed, as a thing
that would be naturally, and of course ; Let him, as if he
had said, admit lie do, or he may, or it is taken for granted
that he will rejoice, who, being of Ioav degree, is exalted.
But the principal design is to shew, what it is less obvious to
apprehend or imagine, that the rich hath a truer cause and
greater reason to rejoice when he is made low ; because he
was, otherwise, apt to please himself, or be mocked with a
shadow. Many more such instances might be given of two
things thus joined together in the same assertion, or some-
times, in the same precept, where the intendment is to make
use of the one, cither by way of opposition, or comparison,
the more to magnify, or to lay the greater weight on the
other.
The matter may well be so understood in the place under
our present consideration ; " by him to reconcile all things to
himself," (things being put for persons, as elsewhere in holy
Scripture, Luke 19. 10. 1 John 5. 4. and commonly in other
writers,) " whether things on earth, or things in heaven ;" that
is, even as well men on earth, where the difficulty was greater,
and where enmity against God did rage, where he was set at
greatest distance and highest defiance ; as those in heaven,
where all was pacate already, and therefore a word was chosen
more suitable to the state of their case, who were principally
intended, namely, of reconciling ; meaning that, by recon-
ciliation, he would make the state of things on earth, now so
filled with enmity against God, suitable to their state above,
among whom there was none : and yet a word not wholly in-
congruous to the heavenly state also ; for iOTxa1*w.«TTav, doth
not always suppose a foregoing enmity, as ^awmtwi.rrei), (used
2 Cor. 5. 19, 20.) doth not always ; nor doth the decompound
her* rriore limit the sense ; but doth sometimes signify to con-
ciliate, or draw into society, and may, in reference to that
CHAP. X. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 423
state above, have reference to the continuation of amity and
accord there ; that no more any such rupture, as once there
was, should have place in those bright regions for ever. And
it seems designed for the Redeemer's more consummate glory,
that the perpetual stability of the heavenly state, should be
owing to him, and to the most inestimable value of his obla-
tion on the cross ; that it should be put upon his account, and
be ascribed to the high merit of his pacificatory sacrifice, that
they continue in obedience, and favour for ever ! For why,
else, is the mention of the " blood of his cross" so carefully
inserted, and that, rather than be omitted, it is even thrust
into a parenthesis : " It pleased the Father that in him should
all fulness dwell, and (having made peace by the blood of
his cross) to reconcile all things to himself — on earth — in
heaven !" This is the more remarkably designed ; though yet,
the principal import of the word reconciled^ (as any word that
is to be applied to divers matters, is differently to be under-
stood, according to the diversity of the matter,) is accommo-
date to their case, who were principally intended, namely,
those on earth, who were in enmity with God. And the fol-
lowing words shew these to have been here principally intend-
ed : "And you, who were sometime alienated, and enemies
in your minds by wicked works, yet now hath he recon-
ciled," &c. (v. 21.) as if he had said, He hath not only con-
ciliated to himself, or made sure of the everlasting amity of
those, who Avere always dutiful in heaven ; but he hath also
recovered the good-will and loyal affection of such on earth,
as were at enmity, in an apostasy, alienated, and enemies in
their minds ; and all, by the same means, the virtue and fra-
grancy of a sacrifice, sufficient to fill heaven and earth with its
grateful odour, and whose efficacy can never decrease to ail
eternity. Nor therefore, is it consequent, that the direct in-
tention of this his sacrifice, should bear reference to the con-?
cernments of angels, whose nature he took not, but from the
redundancy of its merit, this inestimable advantage, namely,
the permanent stability of their state, may weil be supposed to
accrue to them ; and, for the greater honour of the Redeemer,
they made debtors to him for it.
And why should it seem incongruous, that those most con-
stantly pure and holy creatures above, who are, in this same
context, (v. 16.) made to owe whatever excellencies they have,
within the sphere of nature, to the Son of God, should owe to
him also, whatsoever they have within the sphere of grace ?
Yea 3 how aptly do things correspond, that, whereas it had
424 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PARTT1.
been said above, (r. 16.) " By him were all things created,
ihat are in heaven, and that are on earth," &c. it should also
be alter said, " by him are all things reconciled," either re-
covered into, or continued in, everlasting amity with him,
th.it is, That "whosoever partake of special divine favour,
whether they be of the tilings on the earth, or the things in
beaveto, shall for the future be debtors to him for it. And
whereas it is expressly said in Scripture, that " when God
raised him from the dead, he set him far above all principality
and power," &c. Eph. 1. 20, 21. (which words hxolSurev farif&v&,
jfei kirn above., not only signify constitution, a thing diverse
from natural priority, but also, being conjunct with his raising
him from trie dead, import a reference to his dying, and con-
finest over death, as the reason of it,) and that "being gone
into heaven — angels, and authorities, and powers, are made
Subject to him :" (1 Peter 3. 22.) and that he being said io be
" the head of all principalities and powers ;" he might, by
themselves, be understood not to be an useless or nnbeneficial
Head to them. Though it also is not io be forgotten, that at
the time when the apostle wrote these words, a considerable
part of that holy blessed society, then in heaven, were sometime
on earth, in a. state of enmity against God, and so who needed
reconciliation in the strict and proper sense ; as they did
who were still on earth, and to whom he now more particular-
ly directs his speech, (v. 21.) "And you also, who were some-
times alienated — yet now hath reconciled," &c.
But, though I could not think it an impertinency, to use
some endeavour for clearing the whole of this (somewhat ob-
iCtrre) context, it coming, as it did, in my way, yet the prin-
cipal thing, with reference to my present scope and purpose,
which J consider in it, is that it was upon the account of the
blood our Redeemer shed on the cross, that the Father was
pleased all fulness should dwell in him, as an original Temple,
to serve the purposes of that great reconciling -work, under-
taken by him, the raising up of multitudes of temples, all
sprung from this one, in this world of ours, That God might
dwell with men on earth ! that amazing thing! 2 Chr. 6. 18.
And that ascending (in order whereto he was first, dying, to
tkecend) that he might fill all things, give gifts, that of his
Spirit especially ; and that to such as were enemies in their
minds, by wicked works, even the rebellious also, that the
Lord God might have his temple, and dwell with them, Ps.
08. 18. And whereas that work must comprehend the work.
ingout of enmity from the hearts of men against God (and not
•CHAP. X. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 425
only the propitiatingof God to them, which the word tlzwmornaxs
Seems more principally to intend) and that a great communica-
tion of influence from the Divine Spirit, was necessary for the
overcoming that enmity ; that therefore this fulness must in-
clude (among other things, being ct«v wx»jfw/A«, all fulness) an
immense treasure and abundance of Spirit, (which is else-
where said to be given him, not by measure, John 3. 34.) and
that therefore his sufferings did obtain this plenitude of Spirit
to be first seated in him, as the receptacle and fountain, whence
it must be derived, and that the power and right of dispensing
it should belong to his office, as he was the great Reconciler
and Mediator between God and man. Which also many other
texts of Scripture do evidently imply, as when he is repre-
sented as a universal Plenipotentiary, able to quicken wliom
he will, John 5. 21. And "all power is said to be given
him, both in heaven and earth;" (Mat. 28. IS.) and that "the
Father had given all things into his hands," (John IS. 3.)
which must comprehend the power of giving the Spirit, and
which the end of giving him that plenitude of power plainly re-
quires. " Thou hast given him power over all flesh, that he
might give eternal life to as many as thou hast given him;"
(John 17. 2.) the Spirit given being the root of that life,
(Gal. 6. 8.) they that sow to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit
reap life everlasting. And that he is exalted to be a Prince
and a Saviour, to give repentance, (which equally implies
the gift of the Spirit) as well as remission of sins, Acts 5. 31.
Nor is the consideration of his sufferings and death less plainly
signified to be the ground, upon which this fulness of power is
given him ; when it is said, " Christ both died, and revived,
and rose again, that he might be Lord of the living and the
dead," Rom. 14. 9. And when, after mention of his being
obedient to death, &c. it is said, " Wherefore God hath highly
exalted him, &c." that all " should confess Christ is Lord,
&c." Phil. 2. 5 — 11. Having made this digression, we now
IV. Resume the subject, and further note,
6. That hereupon, the Spirit (whether it be for the one
or the other, of the mentioned purposes) is actually and im-
mediately given by Christ, or by the authority of that
office which he bears ; than which nothing can be plainer,
in that he is called the Spirit of Christ, Rom. 8. 9. And
when our Lord -himself uses the expressions about this mat-
ter, with such indifferency and as equivalent; either " I
will send him," (John 16. 7.) or, " I will send' him from
my Father," (John 15. 26.) or, "My Father will send him
vol. i. Si
426 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
in my name," John M. 26. Which what can it signify
less, than that, as the Father -was the first Fountain of this
communication, so the established way and method of it,
was in and by Christ, from which there was to be no depar-
ture ? as is also signified in that of the apostle, Epb. 1. 3.
" Blessed be the God and father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
wh6 hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly
places (or things) in Christ."
And when we consider, how exact care is taken in well-
ordered secular governments, not only that things be done
which the affairs of the government required ; but that they
be done regularly, and in the way which is prescribed and
set ; so as that every one knows, and attends the business of
his own place and station ; and that no one may expect that
from the treasurer, which is to be done by the chancellor,
or that from him, which belongs to the secretary of state.
If there be any beauty and comeliness in order, where should
we more expect to find it, than in the divine government,
and in the conduct and management of the affairs of the
supreme and celestial kingdom ; wherein only the remoteness
of those things from our sense makes every thing seem
little and inconsiderable ? But did we allow ourselves to
retire more frequently out of this world of shadows, and
ascend into those glorious regions above ; there to contemplate
<he bright orders of holy, loyal spirits, all employed in the
services of the celestial throne, and to behold Jesus the
Head of all principalities and powers, the Restorer of what
was sunk and decayed, and the Upholder of the whole
sliding universe, even of the noblest parts of it, that were
liable to the same lapse and decay ; by whom all things
consist ; we should not think it strange that such deference
and honour should belong to his office ; that it should be
rendered every way so august and great, that he should be
so gloriously enthroned at the right hand of the Majesty on
high; and that, when his administrations are manageable
with so much ease and pleasure, to one of so immense
wisdom, power and goodness ; all acts of grace and favour,
should more especially pass through his hands. And if Ave
understand any thing of the distinction of persons in the
ever blessed Deity (whereof if we understand nothing, how
do we adventure to affirm any thing ?) it is not more difficult
to apprehend distinct employments, wherein yet, all can never
fail to have their most complacential consent. And when
that kind of office, was so freely undertaken by the .Son ;
CHAP. X. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 4S7
the susception and management whereof, hath, no doubt,
filled (he supreme court, at first, and from age to age, with
his highest celebrations and praises, and for the execution
whereof, when he made his first descent into this world of
ours, and was to appear an incarnate God on earth, a pro-
clamation was published in heaven, " Now let all the an-
gels of God worship him;" and in his execution whereof,
they had, from time to time afterwards, spontaneously stoop-
ed down to behold, with pleased wonder, his surprisingly
strange and prosperous methods and performances ; who can
think it unsuitable to the dignity and authority of so great,
and so highly magnified an ofiice, unto which all the power
of heaven and earth was annexed, that it should by consent
belong to it, to employ the whole agency of the Holy Ghost,
in pursuance of its high and great ends ?
But now, he having by his blood obtained, that this
immense plenitude of Spirit should reside in him, not for
himself, personally considered, (for so he had it by natural,
eternal necessity, without capitulation or procurement) but
as he was invested with such an ofiice, and iu order to its
being, by the power of that office, communicated to others ;
it is easy to be conceived, and may be collected from the
tenor of holy Scripture, in what different methods it was
(o be communicated, for the (already mentioned) different
•ends of that communication, namely, the rebuilding of God's
temple on earth, and the constant inhabiting and reple-
nishing it afterwards. Therefore,
7. For the former of these purposes, it is given more ar-
bitrarily, and of more absolute sovereignty, not limited by
any certain, published, or known rule ; or other than what
lay concealed in secret purpose. Here the first principle is
given of that life which springs out, and exerts itself, in the ge-
nerating, and forming of a living temple; which grows up into
everlasting life, and makes it an eternally living thing. Now
whereas he hath so vast a power given him by the Father
over all flesh, (which giving, we again note, must signify
this not io be the power he had by natural inherence, but
by later constitution,) we do know to whom, or to what sort
of persons, this eternal life, in the consummate state of it,
is to be given, for that is sufficiently declared in Scripture;
but we are not told to whom it shall be given in the very
initial state, or in the first and seminal principle of it ;
that is reserved among the Arcana Imperii, the secret re-
solves, or placita of the divine government. And so, tak-
428 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART TT.
ing the whole of it together, (as here we must,) we are only
told, Pie will give it to as many as the Father hath given
him, John 17. 2. We do find a connexion, (Rom. 8. 30.)
of predestination, calling, justification, and glorification :
but not of a sinner, as such, with any of these. So ob-
servable was that of a noted ancient, (S. Jerom.,) " He that
hath promised pardon to a penitent, hath not (except with very
great latitude) promised repentance to a sinner." To speak
here more distinctly,
Ever since the apostasy, even upon the first declared con-
stitution of a Redeemer, and in the shining forth of that first
cheering ray of gospel light and grace, " the seed of the wo-
man shall break the serpent's head;" a promise was implied
of the communication of the Spirit; that curse, which made
the nature of man, as the accursed ground, unproductive of
anything but briersjand thorns; and whereby all holy, vital,
influences were shut up from men, as in an inclosed, sealed
fountain, being now so far reversed, for the Redeemer's sake,
as that all communication of the Spirit should no longer re-
main impossible. And hereupon, some communication of it,
in such a degree, as might infer some previous dispositions
and tendencies to holy life, seems to have been general (and
is therefore fitly enough wont to be called common grace) but
then, in that lower degree, it is not only resistible, but too
generally resisted with mortal eflicacy ; so as that it builds no
living temples ; but retiring, leaves men under the most un-
comfortable and hopeless (but chosen) shades of death.
When it was said concerning the old world before the flood,
"My Spirit shall not always strive with man," it is implied, it
had been constantly and generally striving, until then ; but
that it was now time, by the holy, wise, and righteous judg-
ment of heaven, to surcease, and give them over to the de-
struction which ensued. Which text, it is true, some interpret
otherwise ; but if we will allow that of the 1 Pet. 3. 18 — 20.
to mean that, while Noah, that preacher of righteousness, did
' it externally, Christ was, by his Spirit, inwardly preaching to
that generation, who were, now since, in the infernal prison ;
not while they were so, (which the text says not,) but in their
former days of disobedience on earth ; this place will then much
agree with the sense, wherein we (with the generality of our
interpreters) take the other. Nor are we therefore to think
there is no stated rule at all, in reference to this case of God's
more general (but less efficacious) striving with men, by his
Spirit. For we here see, that before God took any people to
4 ^
CHAP. X. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 429
be peculiar to him, from the rest of men, the reason which lie
gives, why his Spirit should not always strive with man, in
common (after an intimation of his contemptible meanness,
and his own indulgence towards him notwithstanding, and in-
stance givers of his abounding wickedness in those days) was,
because all "the imaginations of the thoughts of his heart
were only evil continually ;" (Gen. 6. 3 — 5.) that is, that in
opposition to the dictates of the blessed Spirit, he gave
himself up to the power, and government of sensual in-
clination, his mind, or thinking, considering power and
faculty, falling in with the imaginations of sense, and
taking part therewith, against the Spirit of God ; which im-
ported nothing less than a continual rebelling against that
Holy Spirit. Now if we consider this, as the declared reason,
why God's Spirit should not always strive, and compare there-
with other passages of Scripture; we may collect, and per-
ceive there is some rule of God's proceeding, in this matter,
not only settled in heaven, but sufficiently notified on earth
also : that is, concerning the extent, not concerning the limi-
tation of this gift; how far God would certainly go, in afford-
ing it, not how far he would not go. As far as it is sought,
complied with, and improved ; not how far he would not, in
some instances, proceed, beyond that. He hath bound us to
pray, strive, endeavour, but not tied his own hands from doing
surprising acts of favour, above and beyond his promise.
It is plain, man had by his apostasy cut off all intercourse
between God and him ; not only was become regardless of it,
but disentitled. It was his inclination not to converse with
God; it was his doom that he should not. We have but
short and dark hints of God's first transactions with men, but
what was written and done afterwards, much enlightens and
explains them. There was, no doubt, a much more compre-*
hensive and substantial law, or rule of duty given to Adam,
than that positive statute : " Of the tree of knowledge of good
and evil, thou shalt not eat;" that was fundamental to it, and
transgressed in the violation of it, and therefore some way
implied in it ; and if all that more were only given by internal,
mental impression, or was only to be collected from the
thorough consideration of God's nature and his own, and of
the state of things between God and him ; that must have been,
as intelligible to his yet undepraved mind, as Avritten tables
or volumes. There must also, accordingly, be much more im-
plied in the subjoined enforcing sanction, or rule of punishment :
i ( In the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt die the death ;""
4'JO THE LIVING TEMPLE. TART II.
than the vulgar apprehension of dying comes to ; for these
were the words of the commination or curse upon man, if he
should transgress. And are we not plainly told, (Gal. 5. 13,
34.) a Christ hath redeemed us from that curse — that this
blessing might come upon us, that we might receive — the
Spirit ?" Therefore, this curse did shut up the Spirit from
us; and this death must signify a suspension of all vital, holy
influence, a continual languishment under the stupifying power
of a carnal mind, which (Rom. S. 6.) we are expressly told is
death. And wiien that first evangelical promise was collate-
rally, and implicitly given, Wrapped up in the threatening to
the serpent, That the woman's seed should break his head ; it
could mean no less, than that he, that should afterwards, in
the fulness of time, become her seed, and be born of a woman,
should redeem us from under that curse, and turn it, in all the
consequent horrors of it, upon himself. It was therefore fur-
ther plain also, that no brcatli of holy divine influence was
ever more to touch the spirit of man, had it not been for the
Redeemer's interposition, and undertaking.
But he having interposed, undertaken, and performed, as
be hath ; what is the effect of it ? What ! Is it that the Spirit
should now go forth with irresistible almighty power to con-
vert all the world? That, the event too plainly shews was not
the design ; or that it should immediately supply men with
sufficient grace and power to convert themselves? That, no
scripture speaks, and it were strange, if such sufficient grace
were actually given to all, it should prove effectual with so
very few. But the manifest effect is, that the Spirit may now
go forth (the justice, and malediction of the law not reclaim-
ing against it) and make gentle trials upon the spirits of men,
inject some beams of light, and some good thoughts, with
which if they comply, they have no cause to despair of more;
and so, that which is wont to be called common grace, may
gradually lead, and tend to that of a higher kind, which is
special, and finally saving. That light, and those motions,
which have only this tendency, must be ascribed to the Spirit
of God, co-operating with men's natural faculties; and not to
their own unassisted, natural power alone. For we are not
sufficient of ourselves, to think one right thought. And now
if they rebel against such light and motions, violently oppos-
ing their sensual imaginations and desires, to their light, and
the secret promptings of God's Holy Spirit ; they hereby vex
his Spirit, provoke him to leave them, and do forfeit even those
assistances they have had, and might farther have expected.
CHAP. X. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 431
upon the Redeemer's account. All which seems to be summed
up, as a stated rule, in that of our Saviour—" To him that
hath, shall be given; but from him that hath not" (where
having manifestly includes use and improvement) " shall be
taken away that which he had." Which latter words must
be taken not for a prediction, expressive of the certain event,
or what shall be ; but a commination, expressing what is de-
served, or moot justly may be. The true meaning or design
of a commination, being, that it may never be executed. And
to the same sense is that of Prov. 1. 23, 24, &c. "Turn at
my reproof — I will pour out my Spirit unto you, I will make
known my words unto you : but I called, and they refused ; I
stretched out my hand, and no man regarded ; therefore they
shall eat the fruit of their own way," &c. v. 31.
So far then we are not without a stated rule, as to those pre-
vious and superable operations of the Spirit of God ; accord-
ing w hereto we may expect them to be continued and increased,
or fear they shall be withheld. But now, because all do more or
less resist, and thereby deserve they should cease, or commit a
forfeiture of them ; and sometimes this forfeiture is taken, some-
times it is not; but the grieved Spirit returns, and re-enforces
his holy motions, even unto victory, where, or when he shall
do so, we have no certain published rule, whereby to con-
clude this way, or that. The Son of God (by consent with the
Father) here acts as a Plenipotentiary, and Sovereign, quicken-
ing whom he will. The Spirit (by consent with him) breathes,
in order to the vital production of temples, as the wind — where
it listeth ; or for regeneration, which is the thing there dis-
coursed of in all that context, and even in the next following
words, which apply that similitude ; '" so is every one that is
born of the Spirit," John 3. 8. And we are therefore, else-
where, warned to " work out our salvation with fear and trem-
bling," (Phil. 2. 12, 13.) because God workefh in us, to will,
and do, of his own good pleasure ; being under no tie, hot
quite to desist, and forsake us, at the next opposition he meets
with. At least, they that are not within the compass of his
covenant (once sincerely entered) can lay no claim, in such a
case, to his continuance, or return.
43$ THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
CHAP. XI.
I. The sixth head proposed before, chap. ix. p. 416, now insisted on j
which includes what was also mentioned in the first, namely, that the
Holy Spirit is given, not only as the Builder, but also, Secondly, As
an Inhabitant of this temple; for which latter purpose he is given by
Iramanuel as a Trustee; the Oeconomus, or chief Steward, of God's
household, by a certain, known rule, giving them who partake
therein, the ground of a rightful claim unto this great and most com-
prehensive gift. Whereupon we are to consider — The dueness and
the amplitude or comprehensiveness of this gift. 1. The dueness of it.
(1.) By promise. (2.) By this promise, its having the form of a cove'
nant restipulated on their part. (3.) From their state of sonship, as
• regenerate: as adopted. (4.) From their being to receive it by faith.
9.. Its ample extent, (1.) Measured by the covenant, considered partly in
acta signato — in agreement, partly in actu excrcito — in execution. This
infers, [1.] Reconciliation. [2.] Relationship. (2.) The summary of
the covenant refers to it. (S.) It is considered what there is promised
in the gospel covenant, besides what may be comprehended in the
gift of the Spirit. II. The subject resumed from chap. ix. p. 415: and
having shewn, as even as there proposed, that the Spirit is not other-
wise given than bylmmanuel; it is considered, as was also promised,
How highly reasonable it was that the Spirit should not be vouchsafed
upon any other terms. III. The suhject briefly considered in re-
ference to the external state of the whole Christian church. IV. Con-
clusion.
I. ryiHE sixth head proposed before, chap. ix. p. 416,
JL now insisted on, which includes also what was men-
tioned in the first head, namely, that the Holy Spirit is given
not only as the Builder, but also,
Secondly, As an Inhabitant of this temple. For which pur-
pose, when by regeneration it is thus built and prepared, the
Redeemer gives the Spirit upon other terms, namely, accord-
ing to the tenor of a certain rule declared and published to the
world : and whereby a right thereto accrues unto these rege-
nerate ones. The unregenerate world ; especially such as by
frequent resistances had often forfeited all gracious communi-
cations of that blessed Spirit, have nothing to assure them he
will ever regenerate (hem. But, being now regenerate, and
thereby formed into living temples, they may, upon known
and certain terms, expect him to inhabit them as such ; and
CHAP. XI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 4-J3
to be statedly (heir Immanuel, and (hat as God, even their
own God, (Ps. 67.) he will bless (hem, and abide with them,
and in them, for (hat gracious purpose. Why else hath he
conquered all their reluctancy, and made them his temples ?
It was against their (former) will, but according to his own.
He at first herein, by rough hewings might displease them,
but he pleased himself, and fulfilled, hereby, " the good plea-
sure of his own goodness," 2 Thess. 1. 11. Nor will now
leave his people, because it pleased him to make them his
people, 1 Sam. 12. 22. Neither is he now the less pleased that
he is under bonds, for he put himself under them, most freely,
and his "gifts and callings arc without repentance," Rom. 11.
29. But being under bonds, he now puts on a distinct capacity,
and treats these his regenerate ones under a different notion,
from that under which he acted towards other men, or themselves
before : not as an absolute, unobliged Sovereign ; that might
do, or not do for them as he would : but as a trustee, managing
a trust committed to him by the Eternal Father ; as the Oeco-
nonius, the great Steward of his family ; the prime Minister,
and Curator of all the affairs of his houce and temple, which
they are, (1 Cor. 3. 17.)* all and every one: for as vast as
(his (emple is, where it is made up of all ; and as manifold as
it is, when ev r ery one is to him a single temple ; neither is above
the comprehension, nor beneath the condescension of his large
and humble mind. Neither larger diffusion, nor more par-
ticular distribution, signifying him to be greater or less, in all,
in every one.
He so fakes care of all, as of cvvry one, and of every one,
as if he were the only one under his care, lie is the first-
born among many brethren ; and as that imports dignify,
so it doth employment ; it being his part as such to provide
for the good state of the family: which is all named from
him, both that part in heaven, and that on earth, Eph.S.
15. Yea, and he may in a true sense be styled the 'Pater'
families, the Father of the family : though to the first in God-
head, he is the Son; to us he is styled the everlasting Father^
* Hujus enim Templum simul omne? ; & singuli, Templa sUmus — For
■wo altogether form this temple, and each is also a temple. Omnium
.Concordiam, & si-ngulos iiihabitatve dignatur, non in omnibus, quam in
singulis major. Qiumiam nee mole distenditur, nee partitione minuitur,
Aug. de Civ. Dei Lib. 10. Cap. 4.— He designs to inhabit the whole so-
ciety, and every one of those who compose it; nor is He greater in the
■ body than in the 'member?,, since he is not enlarged in the mass nor di-
ininbhed by the division,
VOL. i. 2k.
*3l THE LIVIICG TEMPLE. PART It.
Is. 9i 6. Therefore he is under obligation hereto, by his Fa-
ther's appointment, and his own undertaking.
And that, which he hath obliged himself to, is to give the Holy
Spirit, or take continual care that it be communicated from
time to time, as particular exigencies and occasions shall
require. It was a thing full of wonder, that ever he should
be so far concerned in our affairs ! But being concerned so
deeply as we know he hath been ; to be incarnate for us ; to
be made a sacrifice to God for us, that he might have it in his
power to gi\c the Spirit, having become a curse for us, that he
might be capable of conferring upon us this blessing ; it is now
no wonder he should oblige himself to a continual constant care
that his own great and kind design should now not be lost or
miscarry. Alter he had engaged himself so deeply in this
design for his redeemed, could he decline further obligation ?
And his obligation creates their right, entitles them to this
mighty gift of his own Spirit! Concerning which we shall
consider — The dueness and the greatness, or amplitude of this
Gift : or shcw r , that, as their case is now stated, upon their
regeneration, they have a pleadable right to this high privi-
lege, the continued communication of the Spirit. And next
shew, of how large extent this privilege is, and how great
things are contained in it. J scruple not to call it a Gift, and
yet at the same time to assert their right to it, to whom it is
given ; not doubting but every one will see, that a right accruing
by free -promise (as we shall shew this doth) detracts nothing
from the freencss of the gift. When the promise only, with
what we shall see is directly consequent, produces or create?
this right, it is unconceivable that this creature, by resulting
naturally, should injure its own parent or productive cause.
We shall therefore say somewhat briefly.
1. Of the dueness of this continued indwelling presence of
the blessed Spirit to the regenerate : (intending to speak more
largely of the amplitude and extensiveness of it, on the account
afterwards to be given) And
{ 1 . ) It is due (as hath been intimated) by promise It is ex-
pressly said to be the promise of the Spirit, Gal. 3. 14. But
to whom ? To the regenerate, to them who are born after the
Spirit, as may be seen at large, ch. 4. These (as it after fol-
lows) are the children and heirs of the promise, which must
principally mean this promise, as it is eminently called, Acts
2. 38. "Repent," (which connotes regeneration,) "and ye
shall receive the Holy Ghost ; for the promise is to you, &c.
aud to as many as the Lord shall call t" which calling, when
CHAT. XI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 435
effectual, includes regeneration. When (Eph. 1. 13.) this
blessed Spirit is called the Spirit of promise, what can that mean
but the promised Spirit.
(2.) Their right is the more evident ; and what is promised
the more apparently due, in that the promise hath received the
form of a covenant, whereby the covenanters have a more
strongly pleadable right and claim ; to which the rest of men
have no such pretence.
It is true that we must distinguish of the covenant, — as pro-
posed, and entered.
The proposal of it is in very general terms, " Ho, every
one that thirsts" — Isa. 55. 1. " Incline your ear — and I wili
make an everlasting covenant with vou — " v. S. And so it
gives a remote, future right to such as shall enter into it. But
only they have a present acttial right to what it contains, that
have entered into it : and their plea is strong, having this to
say ; " I have not only an indefinite, or less determinate pro-
mise to rely upon ; but a promise upon terms expressed, which
I have agreed to; and there is now a mutual stipulation be-
tween God and me : He offered himself, and demanded me ;
I have accepted him, and given myself. And hereupon I
humbly expect and claim all further needful communications
of his Spirit, as the principal promised blessing of this cove-
nant." Such a one may therefore say, as the psalmist hath
taught him, Remember thy word to thy servant, in which
thou hast caused me to hope, Ps. 1 19. 49. I had never looked
for such quickening influences, if thou hadst not caused me,
and been the Author io me of such an expectation. Now thou
hast quickened me by thy word, r>. 50. so quickening me ac-
cording to thy word. " I will put my Spirit within you," is a
principal article of this covenant, Ezek. 36. 27. And this ex-
pression of putting the Spirit within, must signify not a light
touch upon the soul of a man, but to settle it as in the innermost
centre of the soul, in order to a fixed abode.
And how sacred is the bond of this covenant! it is founded
in the blood of the Mediator of it. This is, as he himself speaks,
the new testament (or covenant) in my blood, Luke 22. 20.
Therefore is this, in a varied phrase, said to be the u blood
of the covenant :" and therefore is this covenant said to be ever-
lasting, Heb. 13. 20. referring to a known maxim among the
Hebrews, Pacts, confirmed bf/ blood, (sanguine sancila,) can
never be abolished. u The God of peace — by the blood of the
everlasting covenant, make yoa perfect in every good work :"
Vi hick must imply a continual communication of the Spirit j
4S6 THE LIVING TEMPLE, PART II.
for it is also added, to do always what is well-pleasing in his
sight: which, who can do without such continual aids? " Com-
ing- to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, we come to the
blood of sprinkling," Heb. 12. 24. He could not, mediate
for us upon other terms ; and upon those, obtains for us the
better promises, u spiritual blessings in heavenly things,"
Eph. 1. 3.
And further, this covenant is ratified b}^ his oath who form-
ed and made it. « My covenant will 1 not break — Once have I
sworn," Ps. 89. 34, 35. By ihese two immutable things, (oven
to our apprehension,) it. is impossible for God to lie, Heb. 6. 17,
18. Regeneration is the building of this temple ; covenanting
on onr part contains the dedication of it; and what then can
follow but constant possession and use.
(3.) The regenerate, as such, are sons, both by receiving a
new nature, even a divine, 2 Pet. 1. 4. in their regeneration;
and a new title, in (what is always conjunct) their adoption.
Now, hereupon the continual supplies of the Spirit in this
house (or temple) of his are the children's bread, Luke 11. 13.
Bocnuse they are sons, therefore God sends the Spirit of his
Son into their hearts, Gal. 4. 6. and he is styled the Spirit of
adoption, Bom. 8. 14, ]5. Therefore they have a right to the
provisions of their Father's house.
(4.) The Spirit is unto these children of God given upon
theft faith ; which must certainly suppose their previous title
for the ground of it. They receive "the pomise of the Spirit
by faith," (Gal. 3. 14.) as by faith they are God's children,
r. 26'. Receiving tlie Son, who was eminently so, and to
whom the sonship did primarily or originally belong; and be-
lieving in his name, they thereupon have l%wtqn> — poti)e¥ or
right to become the sons of God, John 1. 12. being hen in,
also regenerate, born riot off flesh and blood, — but of God.
Arxl thus, by forth receiving hini ; by faith they retain him,
or have him abiding in them, as he abides in them : for the
union is intimate find mutual, John 15. 5. Thvy first receive
him upon the gospel oiler, which, as was said, gave them a re-
mote right, and now retain him, as having an actual riglit.
He dwells in the heart by faith, Efhi 3. 17. But what he
doth, iii this respect, his Spirit doth ; so he explains himself:
for when, in those valedictory chaptersof St. John's gospel, 14,
J5, 1£>. he promises his disconsolate disciples, he would come
to them, he would see them, he would manifest himself to them,
he would abide with them, within a little while they should see
him, ,&c, he intimates to them, that he principally meant all
CHAP. XI. TUT. LIVTNG TT.MPLF. 437
this of a presence to be vouchsafed them by his Spirit, eh. 14.
v. 16 — 19. -And he concerns the Father also with himself
in the same sort of commerce ; (v. 20.) " At that day ye shall
know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you ;"
as also v. 21, and 2.3. Thus in another place, we find the Spirit
promiscuously spoken of as the Spirit of God, and the Spirit
of Christ; and the inbcing, or indwelling of Christ, and of the
Spirit, used as expressions signifying the same thing ; when
also I he operation of God is spoken of by the same indwelling
Spirit, Rom. 8. 9 — 11. Which an eminent father observing,
takes occasion to speak of the joint presence of the several per-
sons of the trinity, with such, with whom any one is present,
because each bears itself inseparably towards the other, arid is
united most intimately therewith,* wheresoever one hypostasis
(or person, as by the Latins we are taught to speak) is present
there, the whole trimly is present — Amazing thing! that the
glorious Subsistents in the eternal Godhead, should so con-
centre in kind design, influence and operation towards a des-
picable impure worm !
Hut this conjunction infers no confusion; breaks not the
order, wherein each severally acts towards one end. But that,
notwithstanding, we may conceive from whom, through whom,
and by whom, what Mas lately a ruinous heap is become an ani-
mated temple, inhabited by the divine presence, wherein we
ought not to forget, how eminent and conspicuous the part is
of onr Lord Christ, and upon how costly terms he obtained,
that, the blessed Spirit should so statedly, and upon a right
claimable by faith, employ his mighty agency in this most
gracious and wonderful undertaking! being (as hath been ob-
served) made a curse for us, that we might receive the promise
of the Spirit, by faith, Gal. 3. 13, 14. Whence also it is said that
after our believing we are sealed with the Spirit of promise;
(I-]ph. 1. 13.) that is. by that seal, by which God knows, or
owns, or acknowledges, them that are his, (2 Tim. 2. 19.)
though they may not always know it themselves. Hereupon
also our Lord hath assured us : from Ihem that believe in him,
shall ilow (as out of the belly of a conduit) rivers of living
waters, which it is said bespoke of the Spirit, which they that
believed should receive, John 7. 3S, 39.
Much more might be alleged from many texts of the old and
new testament to evince the right which believers, or they who
* ottu yxf -n jj.i'x rys rgioloos luofxats 7rx^r\ ttutx ir<igt?iv v rptxr. Chrys.
in Kpist. ad Roman.
43S THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
are God's more peculiar people, have to the abiding indwell-
ing presence of his Spirit, as the inhabitant of that temple -which
they are now become. But that matter being plain, we shall
proceed to what was next proposed ; to shew :
2. The ample extent and comprehensiveness of this pri-
\*ilege, which I shall the rather enlarge upon, that from thence
tve may have the clearer ground upon which afterwards to ar-
gue 5 — how highly reasonable and congruous it was, that so
great a thing, and of so manifest importance to God's having
a temple and residence among men should not be otherwise
communicated than in and by Iramanuel ; the Founder and
Kestorer of this temple.
(1.) And we cannot have a truer, or surer measure, of the
amplitude and extensiveness of this gift, than the extent and
comprehensiveness of the covenant itself, to which it belongs.
To which purpose, let it be considered that this covenant of
God in Christ, of which we are now speaking, may be looked
upon two ways ; that is,
We may view it abstractly, taking the frame and model of
it, as is were M adit signato — in agreement, to be collected
and gathered out of the holy Scriptures. Or Ave Avay look
upon it as in aetit exercito, namely, as it is now transacted
and entered into by the blessed God, and this or that awakened,
considering, predisposed soul. Now here,
Take it the former way, and you find this article, con-
cerning the gift or communication of the Holy Ghost ; stand-
ing there as one great grant contained in the gospel covenant.
And it is obvious to observe, as it is placed there, what aspect
it hath upon both the parts of the covenant, 1 will be your
God — you shall be my People. Which Avill be seen, if
You consider this covenant as actually entered into, or as
the covenanting parties are treating; the one, to draAv the
other to enter this covenant. And so Ave shall see that our con-
sent, both that God shall be our God, and that Ave Avill be of
It is people, with all previous inclinations thereto, and A\hat
immediately results from our covenanting, do all depend upon
this communication of the Spirit; and otherwise, neither can
he do the part of a God to us, nor Ave, the part that belongs to
his people towards him. By all which Ave shall see the vast
extent of the gift. It is the Mediator's part to bring the co-
venanting parties together,- He is therefore said to be the
Mediator of the neAv covenant, Heb. 12. 21. He rendered it
possible, by the merit of hi;; bioorl, that the offended Majesty
of heaven might, without injury to himself, consent j and that
CHAP. XI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 43§
the Spirit might be given to procure our consent, which, as
Mediator or Immanuel, he gives: and when he gives it in so
copious an effusion, as to be victorious, to conquer our aver-
sion, and make us cease to be rebellious, then he enters to dwell,
Ps. 68. 18. Till then, there is no actual covenanting ; no
plenary consent on our part to what is proposed in the co-
venant, in cither respect : we neither agree that God shall
be our God, nor that we will be of his people. This speaks
this gift a great thing and of vast extent, looking for the pre-
sent upon the two parts of the covenant summarily : and affer-
wards considering what each part more particularly contains
in it. But if in practice, it be so far done as is requisite to a
judicious and preponderating determination of will, (which
may yet afterwards admit of higher degrees,) how great a thing
is now done ! Their state is distinguished from theirs who are
strangers to the covenant, who are without Christ, and with-
out God in the world. From hence results,
[1.] An express reconciliation between God and thee: for
this is a league of friendship, enmity ceasing.
[2.] A fixed special relation: (Ezek. 16. 8.) "I entered
into covenant with thee, saith the ,Lord God, and thou be-
camest mine." How great and high a privilege? Relations
are said to be of minute entity, but great efficacy : and
it is observable what the philosopher (as lie was wont to
be called) says of them, (Ar. re^i: n.) that their zrhole being;,
namely, of the things related, is related to another. Admirable !
all the divine Being related to me a worm ! And that all this
may be the plainer, let us,
(2.) But consider more distinctly what the great summary
of God's part of this covenant contains ; what is the most
principal promise of it ; the dependancc of our part thereon ;
upon what terms that which is distinct is promised ; how far
what, is distinctly promised, is coincident •with this gift of the
indwelling Spirit, both in respect of this present and the future
eternal state.
[1.] The known and usual summary of this covenant, on
God's part, is, " I will be their God;" as it is set down in
many places of both testaments. Now, what can be meant,
more principally, by his being their God, than giving them
his indwelling Spirit ? Wherein without it can he do the part
of a God to them ? By it he both governs and satisfies them :
is both their supreme and sovereign Lord, in the one regard,
and their supreme and sovereign good, in the other. Doth,
being their God intend no more than an empty title ? or, what
2
440 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART IT*
would be their so great advantage, in having- only a nominal
God? Yea, and he is pleased himself to expound it of his
continued gracious presence, (2 Cor. 6. 16.) " I will dwell
in them, and walk in them, and I will be their God;"
alluding to his continuing his tabernacle among them, as
is promised, Lev. 26. 11, 12. "I will set my tabernacle
among you, and my soul shall not abhor you; and I will
wall; among you, and I will be your God," &c. And what
did that tabernacle signify but. this living temple, whereof we
speak, a< a certain type and shadow of it? Agreeably whereto
Jiis covenant is expressed, with evident reference to the days of
the gospel, and the time of the Messiah's kingdom, (plainly
meant by David's being their king and prince for ever,) Ezek.
37. 2i — 21. u David, my servant, shall be king over them,"
(spoken many an age alter he was dead and gone,) — u and
their prince for ever. Moreover, I will make a covenant of
peace with them, it shall be an everlasting covenant with them,
and Avill set my sanctuary in the midst of them for evermore.
My tabernacle also shall be with them ; yea, I will be their
God." That Yea, the exegetical note, is observable, "my
sanctuary and tabernacle shall be with them," (that is, " I will
dwell in them," as it is expounded before, 2 Cor. 6. 16. And
rould it be meant of an uninhabited, desolate sanctuary or
tabernacle, that should be with them for evermore?) And
why is this his constant inhabiting presence to be with them?
The emphatical yea, A\i<h what follows, informs us, Yea, I
will he their G'od : as if he should say, I have undertaken to
be their God, which I cannot make good unto them, if 1 af-
ford them not my indwelling presence, To be to them a dis-
tant God, a God afar off, can neither answer my coven ml,
nor tlie exigency of their case. They will but have a G'od,
and no God, if they have not with them, and in them, a di-
vine, vital, inspiriting, inactuating presence, to govern, quicken,
support, and satisfy them, and fill them with an ali-suilicient
fulness. They would soon, otherwise, be an habitation for
y,iim and Oehim. or be the temple but of idol gods.
it is therfore evident that this summary of God's part of his
covenant, J will be their God, wry principally intends his
dwelling in them by his Spirit.
And tire astipulation, on their part, to be his people,
(which is generally added in all the places, wherein the other
part is expressed,) signifies their faith, by which they take
hold of his covenant, accept him to be their God, dedicate
themselves to be his people, his peculiar, his mansion, his
CHAP. XI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 441
temple, -wherein he may dwell. Now this their self-resign-
ing faith, taken in its just latitude, carries with it a
twofold reference to Him, as their Sovereign Lord, as
their Sovereign Good ; whom, above all other, they are to
obey and enjoy. But can they obey him, if he do not put his
Spirit into them, to write his law in their hearts, and " cause
them to walk in his statutes?" Ezek. 36. 27. Jer. 31. 33. Or
can they enjoy him, if they love him not as their best good ?
which love is the known fruit of his Spirit. Whereupon,
after such self-resignation and dedication, what remains, but
that "the house of the Lord be filled with the glory of the
Lord ?" as 2 Chr. 7. 2.
[2.] Let us consider what is the express, more peculiar
kind of the promises of this covenant, in the Christian con-
tradistinct to the Mosaical administration of it. It is evident,
in the general, that the promises of the gospel covenant are in
their nature and kind, compared with those that belonged to
the Mosaical dispensation, more spiritual; therefore called bet-
ter promises, Heb. 8. 6. They arc not. promises of secular
felicity, of external prosperity, peace, and plenty, as those
other most expressly were. It is true indeed that the co-
venant with Israel, with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and their
seed, was not exclusive of spiritual good things. For the com-
munication of the Spirit was (as hath been noted) the blessing of
Abraham, (Gal. 3. 14.) and that, as he was the father of that
people, the head of a community, now to be much more extended,
and take in the Gentiles, the time being corno,when all.nations
were to be blessed in him, which is said to be the gospel that was
preached to Abraham, Gal. 3. 8. But in the mean time,
the Spirit was given less generally, and in a much lower
measure ; wherefore, in that purposed comparison, 2 Cor. 3.
between the legal and the evangelical dispensation ; though a
certain glory did attend the former, yet that glory is said to be
no glory, in respect of the so much excelling glory of this lat-
ter, v. 10. And the thing wherein it so highly excelled, was
the much more copious effusion of the Spirit. That whereas,
under the former dispensation, Moses was read for many ages,
with little efficacy, a vail being upon the people's hearts, sig-
nified by the (mystical) vail wherewith, when he conversed
with them, he was wont to cover his face ; that comparative
inefficacy proceeding from hence, that little of the light, life,
and power of the Spirit accompanied that dispensation : now,
under the gospel dispensation, the glory of the Lord was to be
beheld as in a glass, with unvailed face, so as that, .beholding
VOL. i. 3l
442 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART 11,
it, we might be changed (so great an efficacy and power went
with it) into the same likeness, from glory to glory, as by the
Spirit of the Lord ; which is the scope of the latter part of
that chapter, from v. 10 to 18.* How great were the splendour
and magnificence of Solomon's temple, yet how much more
yorious is that which is built of living stones f And as the
whole frame of that former economy was always less spiri-
tual, a lower measure of the Spirit always accompanying it;
so when it stood in competition, as corrival to the Christian
dispensation, being hereupon quite deserted by the Spirit, it
is spoken of as weak, worldly, carnal, and beggarly, Gal. 4.
9. Col. 2. 20. Heb. 9. 2, 10. Therefore the apostle expostu-
lates with the Galatian Christians, verging towards Judaism ;
" Received ye the Spirit by the works of the law, or by the
healing of faith? Are ye so foolish, having begun in the Spi-
rit, are you now made perfect by the flesh ?" Gal. 3. 2, 5.
and ch. 4. from v. 22 to 31. Speaking of the two covenants,
under allegorical representation, he makes the former, given
upon Mount Sinai, to be signified by Agar the bond-woman,
and by the terrestrial Jerusalem, which was then in bondage,
with her children, as productive but of a servile race, born
after the flesh only, as Ishmael was, destitute of the Divine
Spirit ; (which where it is, there is liberty, 2 Cor. 3. 17.) the
other by Sarah, a free- woman, and by the celestial Jerusalem,
which is free, with her children, all born from above, of the
Divine Spirit ; (John 3. 3, 5. as «»w9« there signifies ;) which
spiritual seed, signified by Isaac, are said at once to be born
after the Spirit, and by promise, v. 23, 28, 29. And this can
import no less than, that the ancient promise, (given long be-
fore the law, upon Mount Sinai, namely, four hundred and
thirty years, Gal. 3. 17. and expressly called the covenant of
God, in Christ ; most eminently to be made good in the days
of the gospel, after the cessation of the Mosaical institution, as
it was made before it,) must principally mean the promise of
the Spirit. Which is most plain from that of the apostle Peter
to his convinced, heart- wounded hearers, Acts 2. 38, 39,
<i Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of
Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive
the gift of the Holy Ghost ; for the promise is unto you, and
* Domus Dei aedificatur per Testamentum Novum lapidibus vivis longe
gloriosior quam Templum illud quod a Rege Solomone coristructum est,
&c— The house of God is built by the New Testament with living stones,
and is far more glorious than the temple which was erected by king Solo-
mon. Aug. de Civ. Dei. L.18. C. 45.
CHAP. XT. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 443
your children, and lo all thai are afar oft','' (this promise not be-
ing to be confined to them and their children, but to reach the
Gentiles also, as Gal. 3. 14.) " even as many as the Lord our
God shall call." And surely that which is, by way of excel-
lency, called the promise, must be the more principal promise of
this covenant ; which it is also signified to be, in that account
given of it by the prophets, Isa. 44. 3. and 59. 20,21. Jer.
31. 33. quoted Heb. 8. 10. (where though the Spirit be not
expressly named, yet those effects of it are, which manifestly
suppose it,) and Ezek. 36. 25, 27. Joel 2. 28. This new co-
venant is distinguished from the former, by the more certain,
more general, and more efficacious communication of the Spirit
promised in it, as is plainly implied, Jer. 31. and (which re-
fers thereto) Heb. 8. 9—11.
[3.] It will further tend to evidence, that the Spirit is given
as a settled Inhabitant, upon the known terms of this covenant;
if we consider upon what terms it is promised, what is distinctly
but however most conjunctly promised therewith, namely, all
the relative graces of justification, pardon of sin, and adoption.
These are promised, as is apparent, in the same covenant,
and upon faith, which is our taking hold of and entering into
the covenant, our accepting God in Christ to be our God, and
giving up ourselves to be his people ; and is (according to that
latitude, wherein faith is commonly taken) inclusive of repent-
ance. For a sinner, one before in a state of apostasy from God,
cannot take him to be his God, but in so doing he must exercise
repentance towards God. His very act of taking him, in
Christ, is turning to him through Christ, from the sin by
which he had departed and apostatized from him before.
Therefore must the indwelling Spirit be given, upon the same
certain and known terms as is also expressed in (the before-
mentioned) Gal. 3. 14. Eph. 1. 13, &c. Acts 2. 38, 39.
[4.] Now faith and repentance being first given in forming
God's temple, consider, how coincident the gift of the Spirit,
as an Inhabitant, is with remission of sin, or with whatsoever
relative grace as such, is distinct from that which is inherent,
subjected in the soul itself, and really transmutative of its sub-
ject. But we are to consider withal, how manifestly the lat-
ter of these is involved in the former. Giving the Spirit
(the root and original of subjective grace) implies two things :
first, conferring a right to it : and secondly, actual commu-
nication. The former belongs to relative grace, the latter
to real; (as they commonly distinguish ;) but the former is in
order to the latter, and the latter most certainly follows upon
444 THE GIVING TESIPLE. PART II*
the former. Both are signified by one name of giving ; and
do both, in a sort, make one entire legal act, (though there are
distinct physical ones,) which the former (usually) begins,
and the latter consummates. Divers things are not herein
given, but only a title to, and the possession of the same thing :
nor by divers donations ; but by the concurrence of such things
as arc requisite to make up one and the same. And let it now
be considered,
(3.) What there is promised in the gospel-covenant, besides
what may be comprehended in the gift of the Spirit. We
will first set aside What is manifestly not promised in it be-
sides ; and then, more closely inquire about what may seem
distinctly promised, and see in how great part that residue will
be reducible hither.
[1.] As to what is manifestly not promised besides ; it is
plain, there is not promised in it a part and portion in a par-
ticular land or country on earth, as there was in the old cove-
nant (contra-distinguished to this new one) to Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob, and their seed, which land was, we know, called
the "land of promise ;•" and unto which the body of that peo-
ple had so certain a title, upon the condition of their continued
obedience, that they were sure never to be removed out of it ;
or if they had made a general defection, and were thereupon
forsaken of God, and given up to invading enemies, that should
dispossess them, they were as sure, upon their general re-
pentance, to be restored, and settled there again, as may be
seen in Solomon's prayer, at the dedication of the temple, and
God's most gracious and particular answer thereto, and in di-
vers places of the Old Testament besides.
If particular persons brake this covenant, by grosser trans-
gressions, they were to be cut off from this good land, and,
by Moses's law, at the mouth of two or three witnesses, to die
without mercy ; and so, by such execution of justice, the
body of the people ^as kept safe from divine displeasure ; the
land was not defiled, so as to spew out its inhabitants.
But if the people did generally revolt, so as that the ordinary
methods of punitive justice could have no place, God took
the matter into his own hands, and did justice upon them
himself, by casting them out. This is the covenant which, it
is said, they brake, Jer. SI. 32. and Heb. 8. The new gospel
covenant is apparently of no such import, or hath no such ad-
ditament to the spiritual blessings of it.
Nor again doth it promise more indefinitely, temporal bless-
ings of any kind, with certainty, upon any condition whatso-
CHAP. XI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 445
ever, even of the highest faith, the most fervent love to God,
or (lie most accurate obedience, and irreprehensible sanctity,
attainable on earth ; as if the best and holiest men should
therefore be any whit the more assured of constant health,
ease, opulency, or peace in this world. We know the ordi-
nary course of providence (which cannot justly be under-
wood to be a misinterpreter of God's covenant) runs much
otherwise ; and that such things as concern the good estate of
our spirits, and inward man, are the only things we can, upon
any terms, be sure of, by this covenant ; the tenor of it not
warranting us to look upon external good things, as otherwise
promised, than so far as they may be subservient to these, and
to our better serving the interest and honour of God and Vnz
Redeemer ; of which things he reserves the judgment to himself;
And unto Him, by this covenant, we absolutely devote our-
selves to serve and glorify him in his own way, and in what-
soever external circumstances his wisdom and good pleasure
shall order for us ; being ourselves only assured of this in the
general, That all things shall work together for good to us, if
we love him, &c. but still esteeming it our highest good (as we
cannot but do, if we love him as we ought) to be most service-
able to his glory, and conformable, in our habitual temper, to
his will. Spiritual good things then, are by the tenor of this
covenant our only certainties. Other things indeed cannot be
the matter of absolute universal promise. Their nature refuses
it and makes them uncapable. They are but of a mutable
goodness ; may be sometimes, in reference to our great end,
good for us : ;ind sometimes, or in some circumstances, evil
and prejudicial. And being in a possibility to become evil in.
that relative sense, (as what hinders a greater good, is then an
evil,) if they ever be actually so ; they are then no longer mat-
ter of a promise. The promise would in that case cease to be a
promise ; for can there be a promise of an evil ? It would then
necessarily degenerate, and turn into a threatening.
But it may be said of those good things that are of a higher
kind and nature, that respect our souls and our states god-
ward, there seem to be some vastly different from this of giving
the Spirit. Therefore,
[2.] We are next to inquire what they are, and how far they
may be found to fall into this.
Remission of sin is most obvious, and comes first in view,
upon this account. And let us bethink ourselves what it is.
We will take it for granted, that it is not a mere concealed
will or purpose to pardon, on the one hand, (for no one in com-
416 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
mon speech takes it so ; a purpose to do a thing signifies it
not yet to be done :) nor mere not punishing-, on the other. If
one should be never so long only forborne, and not punished,
he may yet be still punishable, and will be always so, if he be
jet guilty. It is therefore such an act as doth, in law, take
away guilt, namely, the reatum poena, or dissolve the obliga*
Hon to suffer punishment.
It is therefore to be considered, what punishment a sinner
was, by the violated law of works and nature, liable to in this
world, or in the world to come ; and then what of this, is, by
virtue of the Redeemer's sacrifice and covenant, remitted.
He was liable to whatsoever miseries in this life God should
please to inflict ; to temporal death, and to a state of misery
hereafter, all comprehended in this threatening, " Thou shalt
die the death ;" if we will take following scriptures and provi-
dences for a commentary upon it.
Now the miseries to which the sinner was liable in this
world, were either external, or internal. Those of the former
sort, the best men still remain liable to. Those of the inner
man were certainly the greater, both in themselves, and in
their tendency and consequence ; especially such as stand in
the ill dispositions of men's minds and spirits godward, unap-
f>rehcnsiveness of him, alienation from him, willingness to be
as without him in the world. For that the spirits of men should
be thus disaffected, and in this averse posture towards God, in
whom only it could be possible for them to be happy, how
could it but be most pernicious to them, and virtually com-
prehensive of the worst miseries ? And whence came these evils
to fall into the reasonable, intelligent mind and spirit of man ?
Was it by God's infusion ? Abhorred be that black thought!
Nor could it be, if they were not forsaken of God, and the
holy light and influence of his Spirit were not withheld. But
is more evil inflicted upon men than either the threatening or
the sentence of the law contained ? That were to say, he is
punished above legal desert, and beyond what it duly belonged
to him to suffer. Experience shews this to be the common
case of men. And did that threatening and sentence concern
Adam only, and not his posterity ? How then come they to be
mortal, and otherwise externally miserable in this world, as
well as he ? But how plainly is the matter put out of doubt,
that the suspension of the Spirit is # part (and it cannot but be
the most eminent part) of the curse of the law, by that of the
apostle, " Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law,
being made a curse for us, that this blessing — might come upon
4-
CHAP. XI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 447
us," (even the Gentiles, as well as Abraham's seed,) « that
we might receive the promise of the Spirit," Gal. 3. 13, 14.
But now what is there of all the misery duly incumbent
upon man in this world, by the constitution of that law of
works and nature, remitted and taken oif by virtue of the co-
venant or law of grace or faith, from them that have taken
hold of it, or entered into it ? Who dare say, God doth not
keep covenant with ihem ? And we find they die as well as
other men ; and are as much subject to the many inconveniences
and grievances of human life. And it is not worth the while
to talk of the mere notion, under which they suffer them. It
is evident that God doth them no wrong, in letting these be
their lot ; and therefore that as they were, by the law of na-
ture deserved ; so God hath not obliged himself, by the co-
venant or law of grace, to take or keep them off; for then
surely he had kept his word. That he hath obliged himself
to do that which is more, and a greater thing, to bless and
sanctify them to their advantage and gain, in higher respects,
is plain and out of question. Which serves our present pur-
pose and crosses it not.
For upon the whole, that which remains the actual matter
of remission, in this world, is whatsoever of those spiritual evils
would be necessarily consequent upon the total restraint, and
withholding of the Spirit.
And that this is the remission of sin in this life, which
the Scripture intends, is plain from divers express places,
Acts 2. 37, 38. When the apostle Peter's heart-pierced
bearers cry out, in their distress, " What shall we do ?" he
directs them thus : " Repent, and be baptized, ever}' one of
you, for the remission of sins, and ye shall (he adds) receive
the Holy Ghost ; for the promise is to you, and your children ;"
as though he had said, " The great promise of the gospel-
covenant, is that of the gift of the Holy Ghost. It doth not
promise you worldly wealth or ease or riches or honours ; but
it promises you that God will be no longer a stranger to you,
refuse your converse, withhold his Spirit from you ; your souls
shall lie no longer waste and desolate. But as he hath mcrci-
fully approached your spirits, to make them habitable, and fit
to receive so great and so holy an intimate, and to your re-
ception whereof, nothing but unremitted sin could be any ob-
struction ; as, upon your closing with the terms of the gospel*
covenant, by a sincere believing intuition towards him whom
you have pierced, and resolving to become Christians, whereof
your being baptized, and therein taking on Christ's badge
448 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II*
and cognizance, will be the fit and enjoined sign and token, and
by which federal rite, remission of sin shall be openly con-
firmed, and solemnly sealed unto you ; so by that remission
of sin the bar is removed, and nothing 1 can hinder the Holy
Ghost from entering to take possession of your souls as his own
temple and dwelling-place."
We are by the way to take notice, that this fulfilling of the
terms of the gospel-covenant is aptly enough, in great part,
here expressed by the word repentance ; most commonly it is
by that of faith. It might as fitly be signified by the former
in this place, if you consider the tenor of the foregoing dis-
course, namely, that it remonstrated to them their great wick-
edness in crucifying Christ as a malefactor and impostor,
whom they ought to have believed in as a Saviour ; now to
repent of this, was to believe, which yet is more fully expressed
by that which follows, and be baptized in (or rather into) the
name of the Lord Jesus Christ.
It is in the whole plain, that their reception of the Holy
Ghost, as a Dweller, stands in close connexion, as an immedi-
ate consequent, with their having their sins actually remitted,
and that, with their repenting their former refusing of Christ,
as the Messiah, their now becoming Christians, or taking on
Christ's name, whereof their being baptized was to be only
the sign, and the solemnization of their entrance into the
Christian state, and by consequence, a visible confirmation of
remission of sin to them. They are therefore directed to be
baptized into the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, Im % o^xl,.
or unto a covenant-surrender of themselves to Christ, whereof
their baptism was, it is true, to be the signifying token for
the remission of sins, which remission, therefore, must be
understood, connected, not with the sign but with the thing
which it signified. And it was only a more explicit repent-
ance of their former infidelity, and a more explicit faith,
which the apostle now exhorts them to, the inchoation whereof
he might already perceive, by their concerned question,
" What shall we do ?" intimating their willingness to do any
thing that they ought. ; that their hearts were already over-
come and won ; and that the Holy Ghost had consequently
began to enter upon them: the manifestation of whose entrance
is elsewhere, as to persons adult, found to be an antecedent
requisite to baptism, and made the argument why it should not
be withheld, as Acts 10. 47. " Can any man forbid that these
should not be baptized, who have received the Holy Ghost, as
well as we ?"
CllAP. XI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 449
Remission of sin therefore, as it signifies giving a right lo
future impunity, signifies giving a right to the participation
of the Spirit; the withholding whereof was the principal pu-
nishment to betaken off. And as it signifies the actual taking
ofTof that punishment, it must connote the actual communica-
tion of the Spirit. Therefore, upon that faith which is our
entrance into the gospel-covenant, the curse which withheld
the Spirit is removed, and so we receive the promise of the
Spirit (or the promised Spirit) by faith, as is plain in that
before mentioned, Gal. 3. 13, 14.
The same reference of giving (or continuing) the Spirit unto
forgiveness of sin, Ave may observe in that of the Psalmist:
" Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, and renew a right Spirit within
me. Cast me not away from thy presence, and take not thy
Holy Spirit from me ;" (Psa. 51. 9 — 11.) which it is plain was
(jreaded and deprecated as the worst of evils ; but which
would be kept off, if iniquity were blotted out. And as to
this, there was no more difference in the case, than between
one whose state was to be renewed, and one with whom God
was first to begin. And that summary of spiritual blessings
promised in the new covenant, Jer. 31. 31, 32, &c. and Heb.
S. which all suppose the promised gift of the Spirit itself,
as the root of them all — " 1 will put my law in their inward
parts, and will write it in their hearts," &c. is all grounded
upon this : (4 For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will re-
member their sin no more." When therefore the punishment
of sin is remitted, quoad jus, or a right is granted to impuni-
ty, the Spirit is, & jure, given ; or a right is conferred unto
this sacred gift. When actually (upon that right granted) the
punishment is taken off, the Spirit is actually given ; the with-
holding whereof was the principal punishment we were liable
to, in this present state.
And as to justification, the case cannot differ, which itself
so little differs from pardon, that the same act is pardon, be-
ing done by God as a sovereign Ruler acting above law,
namely, the law of works ; and justification, being done by
him as sustaining the person of a judge according to law,
namely, the laAV of grace.
Adoption also imports the privilege conferred of being the
sons of God. And what is that privilege ? (for it is more than
a name) that such are led by the Spirit of God; (Rom 8. 14.)
which Spirit is therefore, as the peculiar cognizance of their
vol. i. 3 m
450 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
slate, called ihc Spirit of adoption, (r. 15.) and forms their's
suitably thereto : for it was not fit the sons of God should
have the spirits of slaves. It is not the spirit of bondage that
is given them, as there it is expressed, but a free generous
spirit; not of fear, as there, and 2 Tim. 1. 7. but of love and
power, and of a sound mind. Most express is that parallel
text, Gal. 4. 6. Because they are sons, he hath sent the Spirit
of his Son into their hearts, that enables them (as also Rom. 8.
16. speaks) to say, Abba, Father, makes them understand their
state, whose sons they are, and who is their Father, and really
implants in them all filial dispositions and affections.
AYherefore it is most evident that the relative grace of the
covenant only gives a right to the real grace of it ; and that
the real grace communicated in this life, is all comprehended
in the gift of the Spirit, even that which flows in the external
dispensations of Providence, not excepted. For as outward
good things, or immunity from outward afflictions, are not
promised in this new covenant, further than as they shall be
truly and spiritually good for us ; but we are, by the tenor
of it, left to the suffering of very sharp afflictions, and the
loss or want of all worldly comforts, Avith assurance, that will
turn to our greater spiritual advantage ; so the grace and
sanctifying influence, that shall make them do so, is all from
the same Fountain, the issue of the same blessed Spirit. We
only add, that eternal life in the close of all depends upon
it, not only as the many things already mentioned, do so, that
are necessary to it, but as it is signified to be itself the im-
mediate perpetual spring thereof. They that sow to the Spirit,
shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting, Gal. 6. 8. And how
plainly hath our blessed Lord signified the vast extent of this
gift, when by good things in general, Mat. 7. 11. he lets u«
know he means the Holy Spirit, Luke 11. 13.
We therefore see, that this great gift of the Holy Ghost is
vouchsafed entirely upon the Redeemer's account, and by the
authority of his office, for the building and inhabiting the de-
solated temple of God with men. For the rebuilding of it;
by that plenipotency, or absolute fulness of power, which, by
the sacrifice of himself, he hath obtained should be in him.
For the re-inhabiting of it, by virtue, and according to the
tenor of that covenant, now solemnly entered ; and which was
established and ratified in the blood of that same Sacrifice.
Herein appears the dueness of it to the regenerate ; or that
they have a real right to it, who are born of the Spirit; and
CHAP. XI. ?HE LIVING TEMPLE. 451
we have also seen the large amplitude and vast comprehensive-
ness of this gift.
II. We therefore proceed to what was, in the next place,
promised, chap. ix. p. 415, (and wherein, after what hath
been said, there will need little enlargement,) to shew,
(2. ) How highly reasonable it was the Holy Spirit of God
should not be vouchsafed for these purposes, upon other terms.
And this we shall see,
[1.] By mentioning briefly, what we have been shewing
all this while, — The vast extent and amplitude of this gift.
Let it be remembered that the most considerable part of the
penalty and curse incurred by the apostasy, was the with-
holding of the Spirit ; from which curse in the whole of it
Christ was to redeem us, by being made a curse for us. By
the same curse also, our title to many other benefits ceased
and was lost, and many other miseries were inferred upon it.
But this one of being deprived of the Spirit did so far sur-
mount all the rest, that nothing else was thought worth the
naming with it, when the curse of the law, and Christ's re-
demption of us from it, are so designedly spoken of together.
If only lesser penalties were to have been remitted, or favours
conferred of an inferior kind, a recompense to the violated
law and justice of God, and the affronted majesty of his go-
vernment, had been less necessarily insisted on. But that
the greatest thing imaginable should be vouchsafed upon so
easy terms ; and without a testified resentment of the injury
done by ruining his former temple, was never to be expected.
Nothing was more becoming or worthy of God, than when
man's revolt from him so manifestly implied an insolent con-
ceit of his self-sufficiency, and that he could subsist and be
happy alone, he should presently withhold his Spirit, and
leave him to sink into that carnality which involved the ful-
ness of death and misery in it. ("To be carnally minded is
death.") It belonged to the majesty and grandeur of the
Deity, it was a part of godlike state and greatness, to retire
and become reserved, toreclude himself, and shut up his holy
cheering influences and communications from a haughty
miscreant ; that it might try and feel what a sort of God it
could be to itself: but to return ; the state of the case being
unaltered and every way the same as when he withdrew, no
reparation being made, no atonement offered, had been, in-
stead of judging his offending creature, to have judged him-
self, to rescind his own sentence as if it had been unjust ; to
tear his act and deed as if it had been the product of a rash
452 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART IT,
and hasty passion, not of mature and wise counsel and judg-
ment ; the indecency and unbecomingness whereof had been
the greater and the more conspicuous, by how much the
greater and more peculiar favour it was to restore his gracious
presence, or (which is all one) the influences of his Holy
Spirit. Further consider,
[2.] That since nothing was more necessary for the resti-
tution of God's temple, it had been strange if, in the constitu-
tion of Immanuel for this purpose, this had been omitted : for
it is plain that without it tilings could never have come to any
better state and posture between God and man ; God must have
let him be at the same distance, Avithout giving him his Spi-
rit. Neither could He honourably converse with man ; nor
man possibly converse with Him. Man would ever have borne
towards God an implacable heart. And whereas it is acknow^
ledged, on all hands, his repentance at least was necessary
both on God's account and his own, that God might be
reconciled to him, who without intolerable diminution to him-
self, could never otherwise have shewn him favour. He had
always carried about him the %»fVixv i/«1«/xtX»)loF, the heart that
could not repent. The " carnal mind," which is " enmity
against God, is neither subject to him nor can be," had re-
mained in full power ; there had never been any stooping
or yielding on man's part. And there had remained, besides,
all manner of impurities : fleshly lusts had retained the throne ;
the soul of man had continued a cage of every noisome and
hateful thing, the most unfit in all the world, to have been the
temple of the holy blessed God. It had neither stood with
his majesty to have favoured an impenitent, nor with his holi-
ness to have favoured so impure a creature. Therefore, with-
out the giving of his Spirit to mollify and purify the spirits of
men, his honour in such a reconciliation had never been
salved.
And take the case as it must stand on man's part, his hap-
piness had remained impossible. He could never have con-
versed with God, or taken complacency in him, to whom he
had continued everlastingly unsuitable and disaffected. No
valuable end could have been attained, that it was either fit
God should have designed for himself, or was necessary to
have been effected for man. In short, there could have been
no temple : God could never have dwelt with man ; man
would never have received him to dwell.
[3. J But it is evident this was not omitted in the constitu-
tion of Immanuel. It being provided and procured by his
CHAP. XI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 453
dear expense, that lie should have in him a fulness of Spirit:
not merely as God ; for so in reference to offending creatures
it had been inclosed : but as Immanuel, as a Mediator, a dying
Redeemer ; for only by such a one, or by him as such, it
could be communicated ; so was there a sufficiency for this
purpose of restoring God's temple. And why was he in this
way to become sufficient, if afterwards he might have been
waved, neglected, and the same work have been done another
way ?
[4.] It could only be done this wny, in and by Immanuel.
As such, he had both the natural and moral power in conjunc-
tion, which were necessary to effect it.
The natural power of Deity which was in him, was only
competent for this purpose. Herein had he the advantage in-
finitely of all human power and greatness. If an offended
secular prince had never so great a mind to save and restore a
condemned favourite, who besides that he is of so haughty a
pride, and so hardened in his enmity, that he had rather die
than supplicate, hath contracted all other vicious inclinations,
is become infamously immoral, debauched, unjust, dishonest,
false, and we will suppose stupid, and bereft of the sprightly
wit that graced his former conversation ; his merciful prince
would fain preserve and enjoy him as before ; but he cannot
change his qualities, and cannot but be ashamed to converse
familiarly with him, while they remain unchanged. Now the
blessed Immanuel, as he is God, can, by giving his Spirit,
do all his pleasure in such a case. And he hath as such too,
The moral power o{ doing it most righteously and becomingly
of God, that is, upon consideration of that great and noble
sacrifice, which as such he offered up. He is now enabled to
give the Spirit : he might otherwise do any thing for man,
rather than this : for it imports the greatest intimacy imagin-
able. All external overtures and expressions of kindness,
were nothing in comparison of it. And no previous disposi-
tion towards it, nothing of compliance on the sinner's part, no
self-purifying, no self-loathing for former impurities, no smit-
ing on the thigh, or saying, li What have I done," could be
supposed antecedent to this communication of the Spirit ! The
universe can afford no like case, between an offending wretch,
and an affronted ruler. If the greatest prince on earth had
been never so contumeliously abused by the most abject pea-
sant ; the distances are infinitely less, than between the injured
glorious Majesty of heaven, and the guilty sinner ; the injury
done this majesty incomprehensibly greater.
454 TH« LIVING TEMPLE. PART II.
And besides all other differences in*the two cases, there is
this most important one, as may be collected from what hath
been so largely discoursed, that the principal thing in the
sentence and curse upon apostate man, was, That God's Spirit
should retire and be withheld, so that he should converse
with him, by it, no more. The condemning sentence upon
a criminal, doth in secular governments extend to life and
estate ; such a one might be pardoned as to both, and held
ever at a distance. If before he were a favourite, lie may
still remain discourted. Familiar converse with his prince,
was ever a thing to which he could lay no legal claim, but
was always a thing of free and arbitrary favour. But sup-
pose, in this case of delinquency, the law and his sentence
did forbid it for ever ; and suppose we that vile insolent pea-
sant, before under obligation to his prince, for his daily liveli-
hood and subsistence, now under condemnation for most op-
probrious affronts and malicious attempts against him ; he
relents not, scorns mercy, defies justice ; his compassionate
prince rushes, notwithstanding, into his embraces, takes him
into his cabinet, shuts himself up with him in secret : but
all this while, though by what he does he debases himself,
beyond all expectation or decency ; the principal thing is
still wanting, he cannot alter his disposition. If he could
give him a truly right mind, it were better than all the riches
of the Indies. This greatest instance of condescension, he can-
not reach, if he never so gladly would. It is not in his power,
even when he joins bosoms, to mingle spirits with him ; and
so must leave him as uncapablc of his most valuable end, as he
found him.
In the present case ; what was in itself so necessary to the
intended end, was only possible to Immanuel ; who herein
becomes most intimate to us, and in the fullest sense admits
to be so called ; and was therefore, necessary to be done by
him: unless his so rich sufficiency, and his end itself, should
be lost together.
Thus far we have been considering the temple of God in-
dividually taken as each man, once become sincerely good
and pious, renewed, united with Immanuel, that is, with God
in Christ, and animated by his Spirit, may be himself a single
temple to the most high God.
III. I might now pass on to treat of the external state of the
Christian church, and of the whole community of Christians,
who collectively taken, and built upon the foundation of the
apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief
4
CHAP. XI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 455
Corner-stone, in whom fitly framed and builded together, they
grow unto an holy temple in the Lord ; and are in this com-
pacted state, a habitation of God through the Spirit. Eph. 2.
20. But this larger subject, the outer-court of this temple, is,
I find, beset and overspread with scratching briers and thorns.
And for the sacred structure itself, though other foundation none
can lay, than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ, 1 Cor. 3. 11 ;
&c. yet some are for superstructing one thing, some another ;
some gold, silver, precious stones ; others wood, hay, stubble.
I am, for my part, content, that every man's work be made
manifest, when the day shall declare it.
Great differences there have long been, and still are, about
setting up (the <7fl^vyiac) the pinnacles, and adjoining cer-
tain appendicles, which some have thought may innocently and
becomingly belong to it. And very different sentiments there
have been about modifying the services of it. Some too are
for garnishing and adorning it one way, some another. And
too many agitate these little differences, with so contentious
heats and angers, as to evaporate the inward spirit and life,
and hazard the consumption of the holy fabric itself. Ill—
willers look on Avith pleasure, and do hope the violent convul-
sions, which they behold, will tear the whole frame in pieces,
and say in their hearts, " Down with it even to the ground."
But it is built on a rock, against which the gates of hell can
never prevail !
It ought not to be doubted, but that there will yet be a time,
of so copious an effusion of the Holy Spirit, as will invigorate
it afresh, and make it spring up out of its macilent, withered
state, into its primitive liveliness and beauty ; when it shall,
according to the intended spiritual meaning, resemble the ex-
ternal splendor of its ancient figure; Sion, the perfection of
beauty ; and arise and shine, the glory of the Lord being risen
upon it. But if before that time there be a day that shall burn
as an oven, and make the hemisphere as one fiery vault ; a
day wherein the jealous God shall plead against the Christian
church for its lukewarmness and scandalous coldness in the
matter of serious substantial religion ; and no less scandalous
heats and fervours about trivial formalities, with just indigna-
tion, and flames of consuming fire, then will the straw'and
stubble be burnt up ; and such as were sincere, though too
intent upon such little trifles, be saved yet so as through fire.
A twofold effusion we may expect, of the wrath., and of
the Spirit of God. The former to vindicate himself; the other
to reform us. Then will this temple no more be termed for-
456 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II,
saken ; it will be actually and in fact, what in right it is always,
"Bethel, The house of God, and the gate of heaven." Until
then, little prosperity is to be hoped for in the Christian
church ; spiritual, without a large communication of the
Spirit, it cannot have; external (without it) it cannot bear.
It was a noted Pagan's observation and experiment, Infirmi
est animi, non posse pad divitias — how incapable a weak
mind is of a prosperous state. Sen. In heaven there will be
no need of afflictions : on earth, the distempers of men's minds
do both need and cause them. The pride, avarice, envyings,
self-conceifedness, abounding each in their own sense, minding
every one their own things, without regard to those of another,
a haughty confidence of being always in the right, with con-
tempt and hard censures of them that differ, spurning at the
royal law of doing as one would be done to ; of bearing with
others, as one would be borne with, evil surmisings ; the im-
periousness of some, and peevishness of others, to be found
among them that bear the Christian name, will not let the
church, the house of God, be in peace, and deserve that it
should not ; but that he should let them alone to punish them-
selves and one another.
But the nearer we approach, on earth, to the heavenly state,
which only a more copious and general pouring forth of the
blessed Spirit will infer, the more capable we shall be of in*
zeard and outward prosperity both together. Then will our
differences vanish of course. The external pompousness of
the church will be less studied, the life and spirit of it much
more ; and if I may express my own sense, as to this matter, it
should be in the words of that worthy ancient,* namely, That
supposing an option or choice were left me, I would choose to
have lived in a time when the temples were less adorned with
all sorts of marbles, the church not being destitute of spiritual
graces. In the mean time, until those happier days come,
wherein Christians shall be of one heart and one way, happy
are they that can attain so far to bear one another's yet remain-
ing differences. And who, since it is impossible for all to wor-
ship together within the walls of the same material temple,
choose ordinarily to do it, where they observe the nearest ap-
proach to God's own rule and pattern ; and where, upon ex-
perience, they find most of spiritual advantage and edification,
not despising, much less paganizing those that are built with
them upon the same foundation, because of circumstantial dis-
* ui$sais pot. Isidor. Pelusi, L. 2. Eph. 2S0.
CHAP. XI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 45»
agreements ; nor making' mere circumstances, not prescribed by
Christ himself, the measures and boundaries of Christian com-
munion, or any thing else that Christ hath not made so : who
abhor to say (exclusively) Christ is here, or there, so as to deny
him to be any where else ; or to confine his presence to this or
that party ; or to a temple so or so modified, by no direction
from himself. And if any through mistake, or the prejudices of
education and converse, be of narrower minds, and will refuse
our communion, unless we will embrace their's upon such terms
as to abandon the communion of all other Christians, that
are upon the same bottom with ourselves and them ; even
as to them we retain a charitable hope, that our blessed Lord
will not therefore exclude them ; because, through their too
intense zeal for the little things, whereof they have made
their partition- wall, they exclude us. If again, we be not too
positive, or too prone to dispute about those minute matters
that have been controverted by the most judicious and sincere
servants of our Lord, on the one hand, and the other, in former
days, and with little effect ; as if we understood more than any
of them ; had engrossed all knowledge ; and wisdom were to
die with us! and that with our bolt too suddenly shot, we
could out-shoot all others that ever had gone before us : if our
minds be well furnished with humility, meekness, modesty,
sincerity, love to God, and his Christ, and our brethren, no
otherwise distinguished, than by their visible avowed relation
to him : this will constitute us such temples, as whereunto the
blessed God will never refuse his presence. And do more to
keep the Christian church in a tolerable good state, until
the Tsxxfytwrict, the tinges of restitution come, than the most
fervent disputations ever can.
IV. And so I shall take leave of this subject, in hope that
through the blessing of God, it may be of use to some that
shall allow themselves to read and consider it. Only I re-
quest such as are weary of living as without God in the world,
that they deter not to invite, and admit, the divine presence ;
until they see all agreed about every little thing that belongs
to his temple, or that may be thought to belong to it, but resolve
upon what is plain and great, and which all that are serious,
that have any regard to God, or their own everlasting well-
being, cannot but agree in, that is, forthwith to " lift up the
everlasting doors, that the King of glory may come in.*' Do
it without delay, or disputation. Let others dispute little
punctilios with one another as they please ; but do not you
dispute this grand point with him. Look to Immanuel ; cou-
vol. i. 3 jf
458 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART If,
sider Him in ihe several capacities, and in all the accomplish-
ments, performances, acquisitions, by which He is so ad-
mirably fitted to faring it about, that God may have his tem-
ple in your breast. Will yon defeat so kind, and so glorious
a design ? Behold, or listen, doth he not stand at the door,
and knock ? Rev. 3. 20.
Consider as exemplary, the temper of the royal psalmist, how
he sware — Iioav he vowed — I will not come into the tabernacle of
my house, nor go up into my bed ; I will not give sleep to my
eyes, nor slumber to my eye-lids, until I have found out a place
for the Lord, a habitation for ihe mighty God! Ps. 132. Yours
is a businesTsof less inquisition, less expense ! His temple is to
be within yoit. Lament, O bitterly lament, the common case,
that he may look through a whole world of intelligent crea-
tures, and find every breast, until he open, shut up against
him !' All agreeing to exclude their most gracious rightful Lord,
choosing rather to live desolate without him ?
The preparation, or prepared mansion, is a penitent, purged,
wilting" fteart ! Fall down and adore this most admirable and
condescending grace : that the high and lofty One, who
inhabits eternity, who having made a world, and surveying
the work of his own hands, inquires, " Where shall be my
house, and the place of my rest?" and thus resolves it him-
self: < : The humble, broken, contrite heart! there, there, I
nill dwell!"
If you have such a temple for him, dedicate it. Make haste
to do so : doubt not its suitableness. It is his own choice, his
own workmanship : the regenerate new creature. He him-
self, as Immanuel, hath procured and prepared it, knowing
what would be most grateful, most agreeable to him : to the
most exalted Majesty ; the most profound, humble, self-abase-
ment. Upon this consummative act, the dedicating of this
temple, I might here fitly enlarge ; but having published a
discourse already some years ago, under this title of Self'
dedication; (which you may either find annexed to this, or
have apart by itself, at your own choice;) thither I refer
you. And because this must be a living temple ; there is
also another extant, upon these words : Yield yourselves to
God, as those that are alive from the dead. That also, such
as are inclined may, through God's gracious assisting influence,,
with eyes lift up to heaven, peruse unto some advantage,
SELF-DEDICATION
DISCOURSED
IN
A PERSON OF HONOUR
A GREAT DELIVERANCE.
TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE
JOHN, EARL OF KILDARE,
BARON OF OPHALIA,
FIRST OF HIS ORDER IN THE KINGDOM OF IRELAND.
My Lord,
I LITTLE thought when, in so private a way, I lately offered much
of the following discourse to your Lordship's ear, I should re-
ceive the command (which I am not now, so far as it proves to mc a
possible one, to disobey or further to dispute) of exposing it thus to the
view of the world, or so much as to present it to your Lordship's own eve.
It was indeed impossible to me to give an exact account of what was then
discoursed, from a memory that was so treacherous, as to let slip many
things that were prepared and intended to have been said that day; and
that could much less (being assisted but by very imperfect memorials) re-
collect every thing that was said, several days after. Yet I account, upon
the whole, it is much more varied by enlargement, than by diminution;
whereby, I hope, it will be nothing less capable of serving the end of this
enjoined publication of it. And I cannot doubt but the injunction pro-
ceeded from the same pious gratitude to the God of your life, which hath
prompted, for several years past, to the observation of that domestic an-
nual solemnity, in memory of your great preservation from so near a
death.* That the remembrance of so great a mercy might be the more
deeply impressed with yourself, and improved also (so far as this means
could signify for that purpose) to the instruction of many others.
Your Lordship was pleased to allow an hour to the hearing of that dis-
course. What was proposed to you in it, is to be the business of your
life. And what is to be done continually, is once to be thoroughly done.
The impression ought to be very inward, and strong, which must be so
lasting as to govern a man's life. And were it as fully done as mor-
tality can admit, it needs be more solemnly renewed at set times for that
purpose. And indeed, that such a day should not pass you without a
fall, nor that fall be without a hurt, and that hurt proceed unto a wound,
and that wound not to be mortal, but even next to it, looks like an arti-
fice and contrivance of Providence to shew you how near it could go
without cutting through that slender thread of life, that it might endear
to you its accurate superintendency over your life, that there might
here be a remarkable juncture in that thread, and that whensoever such
a day -should revolve in the circle of your year, it might come again, and
* By a fall from a horse, Dec. 5, lCM.
462 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
again, with a note upon it under your eye, and appear ever to you as
another birth-day, or as an earlier day of resurruction.
Whereupon, my honoured Lord, the further design of that providence
is to be thoroughly studied, and pondered deeply. For it shews itself to
be, at once, both merciful and wise, and as upon the one account it be-
longed to it to design kindly to you, so, upon the other, to form its design
aptly, and so as that its means and method might fitly both serve and
signify its end. If therefore your Lordship shall be induced to reckon
the counsel acceptable which hath been given you upon this occasion,
and to think the offering yourself to God, a living sacrifice, under the
endearing obligation of so great a mercy is, indeed, a reasonable service;
your life by that dedication acquires a sacredness, becomes a holy, di-
vine life. And so by one and the same means is not only renewed and
prolonged in the same kind of natural life, but is also heightened and im-
proved to a nobler and far more excellent kind. And thus, out of that
umbrage only and shadow of death, which sat upon one day of your time,
springs a double birth and resurrection to you. Whereby (as our apostle
speaks in another place of this epistle) you come to yield yourself to God
as one alive from the dead.
So your new year (which shortly after begins) will always be to you a
fresh setting forth in that new and holy course of life, which shall at
length (and God grant it to be, after the revolution of many fruitful
years, wherein you may continue a public blessing in this wretched world)
end, and be perfected in a state of life not measured by time, wherein
you are to be ever with the Lord. Which will answer the design of that
merciful providence towards you ; and of this performance (how meau
soever) of ■
Your Honour's most obedient,
Humble Servant,
JOHN HOWE.
SELF-DEDICATION.
IIom. 12. 1.
/ beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God,
that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, accept*
able unto God, which is your reasonable service.
TWO things are more especially considerable in these
words : — The matter of the exhortation, that we would
" present our bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to
God, our reasonable service." And the pathetic form of ob-
testation that is used to enforce it. "I beseech you by the
mercies of God." The former I intend for the principal subject
of the following discourse, and shall only make use of the other
for the purpose unto which the holy apostle doth here apply it.
Our business therefore must be, to shew the import of (his ex-
hortation. In the doing whereof we shall — Explain the terms
wherein the text delivers it. And — Declare more distinctly
the nature of the thing expressed by them.
I. We shall explain the terms which the text employs in this
exhortation.
By bodies, we are to understand our whole-selves, expressed
here (synecdochically) by the name of bodies for distinction's
sake. It having been wonted heretofore, to offer in sacrifice
the bodies of beasts, the apostle lets them know they are now
to offer up their own : meaning, yet, their whole man, as some
of these following words do intimate ; and agreeably to the plain
meaning of the exhortation, (1 Cor. 6. 20.) u Glorify God m
your bodies and spirits, which are his."
Sacrifice is not to be understood in this place in a more re-
strained sense, than as it may signify whatsoever is by God's
own appointment dedicated to himself. According to the
stricter notion of a sacrifice, its more noted general distinction
(though the Jewish be variously distributed*) is into pro-
pitiatory and gratulatory or eucharistical. Christianity in that
* See Sigonius de Repub. Heb v Dr. Outr. de Sacr.
464- SELF-DEDICATION.
sfricf sense, admits but one, and that of the former sort. By
which One (that of himself) our Lord hath perfected for rv r
them that are sanclified. We ourselves, or any service of ours,
arc only capable of being sacrifices by way of analogy, and
that chiefly to the other sort. And so all sincere Christians are
"as lively stones, built up a spiritual house, a holy priest-
hood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by
Jesus Christ," (1 Pet. 2. 5.) being both temple, priests, and
sacrifices, all at once ; as our Lord himself, in his peculiar
sacrificing, also was.
In the addition of //w"/?g, the design is carried on of speak-
ing both by way of allusion and opposition to the ritual sa-
crificing, [iy Avay of allusion. For a morticinum, a '\Y thing
dead of itself, the Israelites were not to eat themselves, (Dent.
14. 21.) because they were a holy people ; (though they might
give it to a stranger :) much more had it been detestable, as
a. sacrifice to God. The beast must be brought alive to the
altar. Whereas then we are also to offer our bodies, a living
sacrifice, so far there rruist be an agreement. Yet also, a
difference seems not obscurely suggested. The victim brought
alive to be sacrificed, was yet to be slain in sacrificing: but
here, living may also signify continuing to live. You, as if
he should say, miay be sacrifices, and yet live on. Accord-
ing to the strict notion we find given of a sacrifice it is some-
what, to be in the prescribed way destroyed, and that must
perish in token of their entire devotedness to God who offer it.
"When we offer ourselves,* life will not be touched by it or at
all impaired, but improved and ennobled highly by having a
sacredness added to it. Your bodies are to be offered a sacri-
fice, but an unbloody one. Such as you have no cause to be
startled at, it carries no dread with it, life will be still whole
in you. Which shews by the way, it is not an inanimate
body, without the soul. But the bodily life is but alluded to
and supposed, it is a higher and more excellent one, that is
meant; the spiritual, divine life, as ch. 6". 13. yield your-
selves to God, as those that are alive from the dead. And
v. 1L shews what that being alive means, " Reckon yourselves
to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus
Christ." Alive by a life which means God, which aims at him,
terminates in him, and is derived to you through Christ. As he
also speaks, Gal. 2. 19, 20. 1 am dead to the law, that I might live
to God. I am crucified with Christ. Nevertheless I live, yet
* Cloppcnburg. Schol. Saciific. and others.
/
SELF-DEDICATION. 465
not I, but Christ Iiveth 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 me.
Holy though it be included in the word. sacrifice, is not
in the Greek W/a, and was therefore added without verbal
tautology. And (here wen 1 , however, no real one. For there
is a holiness that stands in an entire rectitude of heart and life,
by which we are conformed in both, to the nature and will of
God, besides the relative one which redounds upon any per-
son or tiling by due dedication to him. And which former is
prr-required, in the present sacrifice, that it may be, as it
follows,
Acceptable to God, not as though thereby it became accept-
able, but as that without which it is not so. Yet also holi-
ness, in the nature of the thing, cannot but be grateful to God
or well-pleasing, (as the word here used signifies, lva.e$n>v,) but
not so as to reconcile a person to him, who was before a sinner,
and hath still sin in him. But supposing the state of such a
person first made and continued good, that resemblance of
himself cannot but be pleasing in the eyes of God, but funda-
mentally and statedly in and for Christ, as 1 Peter 2. 5. (before
quoted.) This therefore signifies, both how ready God is to
be well pleased with such a sacrifice, and also signifies the
quality of the sacrifice itself, that it is apt to please.
Reasonable service, or worship, as the word signifies. This
also is spoken accommodately, to the notion given before
of ottering ourselves, in opposition to the former victims
wherein beasts were the matter of the sacrifice. Those were
brute sacrifices. You are to offer reasonable ones. And it
signifies our minds and understandings the seat of reason, with
our wills and affections that are to be governed by it, must all
b; % ingredient as the matter of that sacrifice ; implying also the
right God hath in us, whence nothing can be more reasonable
than to offer ourselves to him.
Present, that is, dedicate, devote yourselves, set yourselves
before God, as they sistere ad altare — present at the altar,
the destined sacrifices, make them stand ready for immolation.
You are so to make a tender of yourselves as if you would
say, " Lord, here I am, wholly thine. I come to surrender
myself, my whole life and being, to be entirely and always at
thy disposal, and for thy use. Accept a devoted, self-re-
signing soul !" Thus we are brought to the thing itself.
Which now,
II. In the next place (with less regard to the allusive terms)
vol. i. So
466 SELF-DEDICATION.
we come more distinctly to open and explain. It is briefly but
the dedicating of ourselves : or, as it is 2 Cor. 8. 5. the giv-
ing onr ownselves to the Lord. So those Macedonian con-
verts are said to have done. And there is a special notice to
be taken therein of the "word first, which puts a remarkablencss
upon that, passage. The apostle is commending their liberal
charily towards indigent necessitous Christians : and shews
how their charity was begun in piety. They did not only,
most freely give away their substance for the relief of such as
were in want, but first they gave their ovvnselves to the Lord.
But that we may not misconceive the nature of this act, of
giving ourselves, we must know it is not donation in the strict
and proper sense, such as confers a right upon the donee, or
io him to whom a thing is said to be given. We cannot be
said to collate, or transfer a right to him who is before, Do-
minus ab solid it s ; the only proprietor and supreme Lord of all.
It is more properly but a trad i lion, a surrender or delivery of
ourselves, upon the supposal and acknowledgment of his
former right ; or the putting ourselves into his possession, for
his appointed uses and services, out of which we had injuri-
ously kept ourselves before. It is but giving him his own,
(1 Chron. 29. 11.) "All things come of thee, and of thine
own have we given thee." It is only a consent, and obedience
to his most rightful claim, and demand of us, or a yielding
ourselves to him, as it is significantly expressed in the men-
tioned Rom. 6. 13. Though there the word is the same with
that in the text, wag/ru^, or vxpiriw, which here we read
present.
And now that we may more distinctly open the nature of
this self-dedication, we shall shew what ought to accom-
pany and qualify it, that we may be a suitable and grateful
present to him, in evangelical acceptation, worthy of God, such
as he requires and will accept.
J. It must be done with knoAV ledge and understanding. It
cannot but be an intelligent act. It is an act of religion and
worship, as it is called in the text. .Service we read it, which is
much more general, but the word is k^hx — worship. It is
indeed the first and fundamental act of worship. And it is
required to be a rational act. Your reasonable service. Re-
ligion cannot move blindfold. And though knowledge and
reason are not throughout words of the same signification
and latitude ; yet the former is partly presupposed upon
the latter, and partly improved by it, nor can therefore
be severed from it. In the present case it is especially ncces-
SELF-DEDICATION 7 . 467
8afy that we distinctly know and apprehend the state of things
between God and ns : that we understand ourselves to have
been (with the rest of men) in an apostasy, and revolt from
Gel, that we are recalled unto him, that a Mediator is ap-
pointed on purpose through whom we are to approach him,
and render ourselves back unto him : that so this may be our
sense in our return, " Lord, I have here brought thee back a
stray, a wandering creature, mine ownself. I have heard
what the Redeemer, of thy own constituting, hath done and suf-
fered for the reconciling and reducing of such, and, against thy
known design, I can no longer withhold myself."
2. With serious consideration. It must be a deliberate act.
How many understand matters of greatest importance, which
they never consider, and perish by not considering what they
know ! Consideration is nothing else but the revolving of what
we knew before : the actuating the habitual knowledge we had
of things : a more distinct reviewing of our former notices be-
longing to any case, a recollecting and gathering them up, a
comparing them together ; and, for such as appear more mo-
mentous, a repeating, and inculcating them upon ourselves,
that we may be urged on to suitable action. And this, though
of itself without the power and influence of the Divine Spirit,
is not sufficient, yet being the means lie works by, is most ne-
cessary to our becoming Christians, that is, if we speak of
becoming so, not by fate or by chance, as too many only are,
but by our own choice and design : which is tiie same thing
with dedicating ourselves to God through Christ, whereof we
are discoursing. For upon our having thus considered and
comprehended the whole compass of the case in our thoughts,
cither the temper of our hearts would be such that we would
hereupon dedicate ourselves or we would not ; if Ave would, it
is because we should judge the arguments for it more weighty
than the objections, which, without such pondering of both,
we are not likely to apprehend, and so, for want of this con-
sideration are never likely to become Christians at all. Or, if
Ave Avould not, it is because to the more carnal temper of our
hearts, the objections Avould outweigh. And then, if avc do
seem to consent, it is because Avhat is to be objected came not
in vieAV : and so Ave should be Christians to no purpose. Our
contract Avith the Redeemer Avere void in the making, Ave
should only seem pleased Avith the terms of Christianity, be-
cause avc have not digested them in our thoughts. So our act
undoes itself in the A-ery doing. It carries an implicit, virtual
repentance in it, of Avhat is done. We enter ourselves Chris-
468 SELF-DEDICATION.
tians, upon surprise or mistake. And if we had considered
what we are, consequently, to do, what io forbear, what to
forego, what to endure, would not have done it. And there-
fore when we do come distinctly to apprehend all this, are
like actually to repent and revolt. As they John 6. who,
while they understood not what it was to be a Christian, seemed
very forward followers of Christ. But when they did m ^
fully understand it, upon his telling them plainly, went back.
and walked no more with him. And he lets them go; as if
he should say, u Mend yourselves if you can ; see where you
can get a better master."
3. With a determinate judgment, at length, that this ought
to be done. There are two extremes in this matter. Some
will not consider at all, and so not do this thing ; ;md some
will consider always, and so never do it. Stand, Shall I ?
Shall I ? Halt between two opinions. These are both of them
very vicious and faulty extremes in reference to the manage-
ment even of secular affairs, both of them contrary to that
prudence which should govern our actions, that is, when men
will never consider what is necessary to be done, and so ne-
glect their most important concernments ; or, when they will
never have done considering, which is the same thing, as if
they had never taken up any thought of the matter at all. In-
deed, in the present case, it is a reproach to the blessed God
to consider longer, than till we have well digested the state of
the case. As if it were difficult to determine the matter, be-
tween him and the devil, which were the better, or more
rightful Lord ! We must at last be at a point, and come to a
judicious determination of the question, as those sincerely
resolved Christians had done, (John 6. 68, 69.) who also ex-
press the reasons that had (before that time no doubt) deter-
mined them : " Lord, whither shall we go ? Thou hast the
words of eternal life. And we believe, and arc sure, that thou
art that Christ, the Son of the living (iod."
4. With liberty of spirit, having thrown off all former
bonds, and quite disengaged ourselves from other masters. As
they speak, Isa. 26. 13. u Other Lords besides thee have had
dominion over us, but by thee only will we make mention of
thy name." For our Saviour expressly tells us, " No man
can serve two masters," Mat. 6. 24. AVhen thowDedif.Uii,
the people of Collatia, (Livius, /. 1.) were about the business
of capitulating in order to the surrender of themselves, the
question put, on the Romans' part, was, Estne popitlus Co!-
latinus in sua polestatc — Are the Collatine people in their
SELF-DEDICATION. 46$
ca m power ? Wherein satisfaction being given, the matter is
concluded. In the present case of yielding ourselves to God,
the question cannot be concerning* any previous tie in point of
right, or that could urge conscience. There cannot be so
ranch as a plausible pretender against him. Hut there must
be a liberty, in opposition to the pre-engaged inclinations and
affections. And this must be the sense of the sincere soul, en-
treating the matter of its self-surrender, and dedication, with,
the great God, to be able to say to the question, Art thou under
no former contrary bonds ? " Lord, I am under none, 1 know,
that ought to bind me, or that justly can, against thy former
sovereign right. I had indeed suffered other bonds to take
place in my heart, and the affections of my soul, but they
were bonds of iniquity, which I scruple not to break, and repent
that ever I made, I took myself indeed to be my own, and hare
lived to myself, only pleased and served and sought myself as if
I were created and born for no other purpose, and if the sense of
my heart had been put into words, there was insolence enough to
have conceived such as these; not my tongue only, but my whole
man, body and soul, all my parts and powers, my estate and
name, and strength, and time, are all my own ; who is Lord
over me ?. And while I pleased myself with such an imagined
liberty and self-dominion, no idol was too despicable to com-
mand my homage. I have done worse than prostrated my
body to a stock, my soul hath humbled itself, and bowed
down to a clod of clay. My thoughts and desires, and hopes
and joys, have all stooped to so mean trifles, as wealth, or ease,
or pleasure, or fame, all but so many fragments of earth, or
(the less consistent) vapours sprung from it. And whereas
this world is nothing else but a bundle of lusts, none of them
was too base to rule me. And while I thought myself at li-
berty, I have been a servant to corruption. But now Lord I
have through thy mercy learned to abandon and abhor myself.
Thy grace appearing, hath taught me to deny ungodliness
and worldly lusts. Thou hast overcome; enjoy thine own
conquest. I am grieved for it, and repent from my soul that
ever I did put thee to contend for, and conquer thine own."
And so doth this self-dedication carry in it repentance from dead
works, and towards God.
5. With a plenary full bent of heart and will. As that,
" I have sworn, and will perform, that I will keep thy righte-
ous judgments/' Ps. t 119. 106. Or, that, "I have inclined
my heart to keep thy statutes always unto the end," ?. 112.
470 sELF-nrmcATio^.
And herein cloth (his self-dedication more principally consist,
namely, in a resolved willingness fo yield myself, as God's
own property, to be for him and not for another. Which re-
solvedness of will, though it may in several respects admit of
several names, or be clothed with distinct notions, is but one
and the same substantial act. It. may be called, in respect of
the competition which there was in the case, choice : or in re-
spect of the proposal made to me of such a thing to be done,
consent. But these are, abstracting from these references, the
same act, which, in itself considered, is only a resolute volition.
" I will be the Lord's." Which resolution, if onedo, (whether
mentally or vocally,) direct toGod or Christ, then it puts on
the nature of a vow ; and so is fitly called devoting one's self.
It carries in it, as a thing supposed, the implanted divine
life and nature, whereby we are truly said to prese?it our-
selves living sacrifices, as in the text, or as it is expressed in
that other place, ch. 6. 13. " To yield ourselves to God, as
those that are alive from the dead ; (as v. 11.) alive to God
through Christ Jesus our Lord." Which life is not to be
understood simply, but in a certain respect. For before,
we were not dead simply, we were not dead, disinclined, or
disaffected to every thing, but peculiarly towards God and his
Christ. That way we were without any inclination, motion,
tendency, or disposition. And so were dead quoad hoc — as
to this thing, or in this respect : were alienated from the life
of God. Now we come to live this life, and are made by his
grace to incline and move towards him, of our own accord.
Dead things (or destitute of life) may be moved by another,
are capable of being moved violently, without, or against in-
clination, hither or thither. But a living creature can spon-
taneously move itself, as of its own accord it inclines.
And whereas there are two more noble principles, that be-
long to this divine life and nature, faith and love. (A great
and noted pair, as may be seen in divers places of the New
Testament.) These have both an ingrediency into this self-
dedication. The nature of each of them runs into it, and may
be perceived in it. And it is hereupon a mixed act, partaking
an influence and tincture, as it were, from the one and the other
of them.
Faith respects the promises of God, and what we are there-
upon to expect from him. And so our dedicating ourselves,
to God, is a self-committing. We give up ourselves to hurt
as a trust, as the apostle's emphaticai expression intimates,
(2 Tim. 1. 12.) "1 know whom I have believed, and 1 am
SELF-DEDICATION*. 471
persuaded that he -will keep that which I have committed unto
him"<T:xpxx.xTx'§w-w ^a — my pawn or pledge, my jiclei commission
against that day. The soul flies to God as in a distress, not
knowing to be safe another way. As once a people, not able
to obtain tutelage on other terms, surrendered themselves to
them whose help they sought, with some such expression, Si
7ion nostros, saltern restros — If not as ours, yet at least as
your own, save, protect, and defend us. Nor, in our sur-
rendering ourselves to God, is this any way unsuitable either
to us or to him. Not to us ; for we are really distressed, ready
to perish ; it is agreeable to the state of our case. Not to him ;
for it is glorious to him; a thing worthy of God to be a refuge,
and sanctuary to perishing souls ; and is thereupon a pleasant
thing, a Godlike pleasure, suitable to a self-sufficient, and all-
sufficient Being, who hath enough for himself and for all others,
whom he shall have taught not to despise the riches of his good-
ness. He " taketh pleasure in them that fear him, and them
that hope in his mercy," Ps. 147. 11. lie waits that he may
be gracious, and is exalted in shewing mercy, Isa. 30. 18.
He lifts up himself when he does it, and waits that he may ;
expects the opportunity, seeks out meet and suitable objects,
(as with thirst and appetite, an enterprising, valiant man is
wont to do encounters, for none were ever so intent to destroy,
as he is to save,) yea, makes them, prepares them for his pur-
pose. Which he doth not, and needs not do, in point of
misery, so they can enough prepare themselves ; but in point
of humility, sense of their necessity and unworthiness, great
need, and no desert, nor disposition to supplicate. These are
needful preparations, make it decorous, and comely to him to
shew mercy. A God is to be sought, with humble, prostrate ve-
neration. And such an opportunity he waits for. It is not fit for
him; not great, not majestic, to throw away his mercies upon
insolent and insensible wretches : for, as there it follows, he is
the God of judgment, a most accurate, judicious wisdom and
prudence conducts and guides all the emanations of his flowing
goodness. The part of which wisdom and judgment is to nick
the opportunity, to take the fit season when mercy will be most
fitly placed; best attain its end; relish best; be most accepta-
ble to them that shall receive it, and honourable to him that
shews if. And therefore (as is added) < ; blessed are they that
wait for him," that labour to be in a posture to meet him on his
own terms and in his own way.
Let such as have a mind to surrender and yield themselves to
him consider this. Apprehend you have undone yourselves,
1
472 SELF-DEDICATION.
and arc lost. Fall before him. Lie at the foof-sfool of the
mercy-scat. Willingly put your mouths in the dust, if so be
there may be hope. And there is hope. He seeks after you,
and will not reject what he seeks, he only waited to bring you
to tills. It is now a tit time for him, and a good time for you.
And von may now, in resigning, intrust yourselves also to him:
for Ins express promise is your sufficient ground for it. a I
will receive you, and be a Father to you, and ye shall be my
sons and daughters," 2 Cor. C. IS. Understand tlie matter aright ;
\ r our presenting, and yielding yourselves to him is not to be a
desperate act. It is not casting yourselves away. You are not
throwing yourself into flames, but upon tender mercies, thither
you may commit yourself. The thing that is pleasing to him,
and which he invites you to, (as he invites all the ends of the
earth to look to him that they may be saved, Isa. 45. 22.)
cannot be unsafe, or unhappy to you.
Again, love hath a great ingrediency into this self-resigna-
tion. And as it hath, so it mole admits to be called dedicating,
or devoting ourselves. This holy, ingenuous principle re-
spects more the commands of God, as the other doth his pro-
mises, and eyes his interest, as the other doth our own. This
dcdilion of ourselves, as it is influenced by it, designs the
doing nil tor him wc can, as by the other it doth the receiving
ail. As by the other we resign ourselves to him for safety and
felicity : so we do by this for service and duty to our uttermost.
And an ardent lover of God thinks this a little oblation. My-
self! Alas! What am 1 ? Too small a thing for him who is all
love, and who, though he hath it in hand to transform and turn
1M'' into love too, sneh as so drossy, and limited a thing was'
capable of being made, how mean yet, and litlle is the subject
he hath to work upon! An atom of dust ! Not combustible, or
apt to be wrought upon to this (!o a divine and heavenly love)
by any, but his flame. And now therefore, but a minute spark
from the element of love, that must, however, thus transformed,
tend towards its own original and native seat ! It shall now
flame upward. And this is all the flame, in which it is uni-
versally necessary, thy sacrifice should ascend : which will
refine only, not consume it. Though, that it may be offered
up in oilier flames, is not impossible ; nor will it be much re-
gretted by you ; if the case should so require, nor shall be de-
spised by him, if he shall so state the case. To give the body
to be burned, without love, goes for nothing; but if in that way,
we were called to offer up our todies, living sacrifices to God,
it would (in an interior sense) be an offering of a sweet smell-
SELF-DEDICATION. 473
fng savour, would even perfume heaven, and diffuse fragrant
odours on earth : nor would be grudged at by that love that
first made our or.oxJ^pov, the whole of ourselves, an offering to
God ; and whose property it is to be all things, to do all things,
to bear all things, to endure all tilings for him, whose we
wholly are. So that if he design any of us to be an oXokuvtwia.%
too, a whole burnt offering, and will have us to glorify him in
the fire, love will not retract its vow, but say, after our great
Pattern, " Not my will, but thine be done :" and as he, in his
peculiar case and design, (not communicable with us, though
the temper of spirit should be,) " Lo, I come to do thy will,
O God ! A body hast thou (it now appears for this very pur-
pose) prepared for me." — " He loved us, and gave himself for
us." So are we, from our love of him, to give ourselves for
him, and his use and service, in whatsoever kind he shall ap-
point and prescribe. Every true Christian is, in the prepara-
tion of his mind, a martyr ; but they are few whom he actually
calls to it. Our love is ordinarily to shew itself in our keeping
his commandments ; and with that design we are to present
ourselves to him, as the resolved, ready instruments of his ser-
vice and praise: as Rom. 6. 13. "Neither yield ye your
members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin ; but yield
yourselves unto God as those that are alive from the dead, and
your members as instruments of righteousness unto God." Thus
having bren more large upon what was more essential in this
dedication of ourselves, I shall be briefer in most of the other
things belonging to it.
6. It must further be done with a concomitant acceptance of
God. His covenant (which is now entered) is oftentimes
summed up, M 1 will be your God, and you shall be my peo-
ple:" and is resembled and frequently represented by the
nuptial contract, in which there is mutual giving and taking.
We are to resign and accept at the same time : to take him
to be our God, when we yield ourselves to be his.
7. With an explicit reference to the Lord Christ. We are
to dedicate ourselves, after the tenor of a covenant whereof he
is the Mediator. God doth not upon other terms treat with
sinners. You are not to offer at such a thing as dedicating
yourselves to him, but in the way and upon the terms upon
which you are to be accepted. The divine pleasure is declared
and known, how great a one He must be in all the transactions
of God with men; yea, and towards the whole creation, Eph.
1. 6 — 10. " He hath made us accepted in the beloved : in
whom we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness
vol. i. 3 p
474 SELF-DEDICATION.
of sins, according to Ibe riches of his grace ; wherein he hafffc
abounded towards us in all wisdom and prudence ; having
made known unto us the mystery of his will, according to his
good pleasure, which he had purposed in himself: that, in
the dispensation of the fulness of times, he might gather to-
gether in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven,
and which are on earth, even in him." We must take heed
how we neglect or overlook Him who is by divine appoint-
ment so high in power, and with whom we have so great a
concern.
8. With deep humility and abasement of ourselves, in con-
junction with a profound reverence and veneration of the Divine
Majesty. There ought to be the lowliest self-abasement, such
as that good man expresses, Ezra 9. 6. (varied to one's own
case,) " O my God, I am ashamed, and blush to lift up my
face to thee, my God: for mine iniquities are increased over
mine head, and my trespass is grown up unto the heavens."
And indeed this is naturally consequent upon what was last said,
of the regard that ought to be had in this matter to the Mediator ;
for surely that very constitution is in itself a humbling thing
to us ; and we cannot apply ourselves to God suitably to it,
but with a self-abasing sense of our own state and case. Our
coming and tendering ourselves to God in a Mediator, is in its
frery nature a humiliation, and carries with it a tacit confes-
sion, that in ourselves we have nothing, deserve nothing, are
nothing, are worse than nothing ; and that only this constitu-
tion of his could justify our ottering ourselves to him, with any
hope of acceptance ; or make it less than an insolent presump-
tion, for sinners to approach him, and expect to be received
into his presence and service. It is not for such as we, to
behave ourselves towards him as if we either had not offended,
or were capable of expiating our own offence. Yea, and if
there had been nothing of delinquency in the case ; yet great
humility becomes such applications to him, and that in con-
junction with the profoundest reverence and veneration of him;
for our very business in this self -dedication, is worship, as the
word in the text hath been noted to signify. And it is the first
and most principal part of all the worship we owe to him, (as
was noted from 2 Cor. 8. 5.) fundamental to all the rest. We
must have before oureyes the awful majesty and glorious great-
ness of God ; which Scripture often speaks of, as one notion
of his holiness, and which we are to have principal reference
unto in all the solemn homage we pay to him ; as sacrifices
(Outr. de Sac.) are well observed to have been offered to him
SELF-DEDICATION. 475
so considered. And therefore, by this consideration, their
suitableness to him is to be measured, as he doth himself insist,
Mai. 1, 14. " Cursed be the deceiver, which hath in his flock a
male, and voweth, and sacrificeth unto the Lord a corrupt
thing* ; for I am a great King, saith the Lord of hosts, and my
name is dreadful among the heathen."
9. With great joy and gladness of heart. It ought to
be accompanied with the highest gusts and relishes of plea-
sure, both from the apprehensive cougruity of the thing, and
the expectation we have of acceptance. The thing itself
should be pleasant to us. We are to do it as tasting our
own act, as they did, 1 Ohron. 29. 9. " The people re-
joiced, for that they offered willingly." The self-devoting
person should be able to utter this as his sense, "Glad ami,
that I am any thing, that 1 have a being, a soul, a reasonable
intelligent being, capable of becoming a sacrifice to him."
And that there is hope of being accepted : how great a joy is
that ? The apostle makes so great a thing of it, that he speaks
(2 Cor. 5. 8, 9.) as if he cared not whether he was in the body,
or out of the body, so he might be accepted. Nuptials (that
resemble, as hath been said, this transaction between God and
the soul, wherein there is mutual giving and accepting) are
wont to be seasons of great festivity and gladness. The great
God himself rejoices in this closure, with such a joy, (Isa. 62.
5. As a bridegroom rejoiceth over his bride, so will thy God
rejoice over thee,) and shall not we? How infinitely more
amiable and delectable is the object of our choice than his !
when we are to rejoice in the supreme and most perfect ex-
cellency ; He, in w hat is clothed over (if he did not super-
induce another clothing) with most loathsome deformity.
10. With an ingenuous candour and simplicity, with that
sincerity which is to be as the salt of our sacrifice : (Mark 9.)
without latent reserves, or a hidden meaning, disagreeing to
his; which were both unjust and vain. Unjust; for we may
not deceive any. And vain ; for we cannot deceive him. The
case admits not of restrictions, it must be done absolutely, with-
out any limitation or reserve. You have heard this self-dedica-
tion is, in part, an act of love. And what limit can be set to a
love, whose object is infinite ? A natural limit it is true, as it is
the love of a creature, it cannot but have ; but a chosen one it
ought never to have, as if we had loved enough. You know
what kind of love is (and cannot but be) due to the all-com-
prehending God. With all thy heart, soul, mind, and might,
476 SELF-DEDICATION.
&c. So without exception, that Maimonides,* reciting those
■words, adds, etiamsi tollat animam tuam. The stream of thy
love to him must not be diverted, or alter its course, though he
would tale away thy very life, or soul.
11. With the concomitant surrender to him of all that we
have. For they that, by their own act and acknowledgment,
are not themselves their own, but devoted, must also acknow-
ledge they are owners of nothing else. In that mentioned form
of surrender in Livy, when Egerius, on the Romans' part, had
inquired, + Are you the ambassadors sent by the people of
Collatia that you may yield up yourselves and the Collatine
people ? and it was answered, We are : and it was again
asked, Are the Collatine people in their ozon pozoer ? and
answered, They are: it is further inquired, Do you deliver
up yourselves, the people of Collatia, your city, your fields,
your water, your bounds, your temples, your utensils, all
things that are yours, both divine and human, into mine, and
the people of Rome's power ? They say, We deliver up all.
And he answers, So I receive you. So do they who deliver
up themselves to God, much more, all that they called their's.
God indeed is the only Proprietor, men are but usufructua-
ries. They have the use of what his providence allots them ;
He reserves to himself the property ; and limits the use so far,
as that all are to be accountable to him for all they possess ;
and are to use nothing they have, but as under him and for
him, as also they are to do themselves. Therefore as they are
required to " glorify him with their bodies and spirits, which
are his," so they are to " honour him with their substance,"
upon the same reason. But few effectually apprehend his
right in their persons; which as we are therefore to recognise
in this dedication of ourselves to him, so we are, in a like ge-
neral sense, to devote to him all that we enjoy in the world.
That is, as all are not to devote themselves specially to serve
him in a sacred office, but all are obliged to devote themselves
to his service in the general ; so, though all are not required to
devote their estatestothisor that particular pious use, they are
obliged to use them wholly for his glory in the general, and
for the service of his interest in the world. We are obliged
* De fund, legis. p. 64.
T Estisne vos legati oratoresque missi a populo Collatino, ut vos po-
pulumque Collatinum dederitis ? Sumus. Deditisne vos, populum Col-
latinum, urbem, agros, aquam, terminos, delubra, utensilia divina, hu-
nianaque omnia, in meam populique Romani ditionem ? Dedimus. At
ego recipio Liv. ubi priiis*
SELF-DEDICATION. -477
neither to withhold from him, nor mispend, these his mercies;
but must " live righteously," (wherein charity is comprehend-
ed,) " soberly, and godly" in it; decline no opportunities that
shall occur to us (within the compass of our own sphere and
station) of doing him (though never so costly and hazardous)
service ; must forsake all and follow him, when our duty, and
our continued possessions of this world's goods, come to be
inconsistent ; must submit patiently to our lot, when that falls
out to be our case, or to any providence b^ which we are be-
reaved of our worldly comforts, with that temper of mind, as
to be able cheerfully to say, " The Lord hath given, the Lord
hath taken awny, blessed be the name of the Lord."
It is indeed the greatest absurdity i; ^.nginable, that they who
are not masters of themselves, should think it permitted them,
lo use what comes to their hands, as they list ; for the service
of their own lusts, and the gratifying of a rebel flesh, i hat hath
rejected the government of their own reason, and of all di-
vine laws at once : or that he who hath so absolute a right in
them, should not have that right in what he hath committed to
them, as to prescribe rules to them, by which to use and em-
ploy it. At the same time, and in the same sense, wherein we
make a dedition of ourselves, we do the same thing as to all
that we have. Even according to common, human estimate,
according to what interest men have in others, or power over
them, they have a correspondent interest in what they possess.
They that absolutely surrender themselves to the power or ano-
ther, leave not themselves capable of proper dominion as to
any thing. Therefore says the civil law, i\ r on licet dedititiis
teslamenta facere — Those who have surrendered themselves,
are not allowed to dispose of their own property. They were
so under several notions, it is true ; but they that were strictly
so, had not power to make a will, as having nothing to dispose
of. No man has certainly a power to dispose of any thing
(and when they surrender themselves by their own act and
deed to God, they acknowledge so much) otherwise than as
divine rules direct or permit. They have a right in what is
duly t heir's, against the counter-claim of man, but none, sure,
against the claim and all-disposing power of God, whether
signified by his law or by his providence. Therefore with
this temper of mind should this self-dedication be made : u Lord,
1 here lay myself, and all that belongs to me, most entirely at
thy feet. All things are of thee :" (as they are brought in
saying, who make that willing, joyful offering, 1 Chron. 29.)
478 SELF-DEDICATION 1 .
«< What I-Iinve in the world is more thine, than mine. I de-
sire neither to use nor possess any thing, bat by thy leave and
for thy sake."
12. With befitting circumstantial solemnity ; that is, it
ought to be direct, express, and explicit ; not to be huddled
up in tacit, mute intimations only. We should not content
ourselves that it be no more than implied, in what we do other-
wise, and run on with it as a thing that must be supposed,
and taken for granted, never actually performed and done.
It is very true indeed, that a continued, uniform course and
scries of agreeable actions, a holy life and practice, carry a
great deal more of significancy with them, than only having once
said, without this concept is verbis— form of words , " Lord,
I will be thine." Practice, whether it be good or bad, more
fully speaks our sense, and expresses our hearts, than bare
words spoken at some particular time, can do, for they at
the most speak but our present sense at that time, and perhaps
do not always that ; but a course of practice shews the habi-
tual posture and steady bent of our spirits. A T or do I think
that a formal, explicit transaction, in this matter, whether vo-
cal or mental, with circumstantial solemnity, is essential to a
man's being a Christian, or a holy man. A fixed inclination
and bent of heart towards God, followed (as it will be) with
a course of practice becoming them that are his, will no doubt
conclude a man's state to be safe and good God-ward ; as one
may, on the other hand, be the devil's servant all his days >
without having made a formal covenant with him. But yet f
though so explicit and solemn a transaction of this matter be
not essential to our Christianity, (as what is said to belong only
to the solemnity of any thing, is therein implied not to be of
the essence of it,) yet it may be a great duty for all that, and I
doubt it not to be so.
And it may here be worth the while, to insist a little ; that
if this indeed be a duty, it may obtain more in our practice,
than perhaps it doth. Some, through mere inadvertency,
may not have considered it ; others, that have, may possibly
think it less needful, because they reckon it was formerly done
for them. They were born of Christian parents, who dedi-
cated them to God from their birth ; and they were, with so-
lemnity, presented to him in their baptism. What need we
then do over again a thing already done ? Let us reason this
matter therefore a while, and consider whether, nowithstand-
h\g any such allegation, our personal dedicating ourselves to
SELF-DEDICATION. 479
C»od in Christ be not still reasonable and necessary to be per-
formed by ourselves also, as our own solemn act and deed ? It
Were indeed much to be wished that our baptismal dedication
to God were more minded and thought on than it commonly
is; when with such sacred solemnity we were devoted to the
triune Deity, and those great and awful names were named
upon us, the name of the Father, tiie name of the Son, and
the name of the Holy Ghost. Baptisms are, it is to be feared,
too often in the Christian world turned into a mere pageantry,
and the matter scarce ever thought on more, when the shew is
over ; and very probably because this great succedaneous duty
is so unpractised among Christians.
(1.) And let it be considered, Are there no like cases'?"
Do we not know, that though all the infants in a kingdom are
born subjects, yet when they arrive to a certain age they
are obliged, being called, to take the oath of allegiance, and
each one to come under personal obligation to their prince ?
And do we owe less to the God that made us, and the Lord that
bought us with his blood ?
Again, Though all the sons of Israelites were in their in-
fancy dedicated to God by the then appointed rite for that
purpose, yet how frequent were their solemn, personal re-
cognitions of his covenant ; their avouching themselves to be
his people, as he also avouched himself to be their God : which
we see Deut. 26*. and in many other places. It is remote from
me to intend the pressing of a covenant that contains any dis-
putable or doubtful matters, or any other than the substance
of our baptismal covenant itself, consisting of the kno^n
essentials of our Christianity, all summed up in taking God
in Christ for our God, and resigning ourselves to him to be
inviolably his : no more is meant than that this may be done
as our own reasonable service and worship ; as our intelligent,^
deliberate, judicious act and choice.
(2.) And consider further, to this purpose, the great import-
ance of the thing itself, compared with the lesser concernments
wherein we use to deal most explicitly. Is it fit that a man's
religion should be less the matter of his solemn choice, than his
inferior concerns ? that when he chooses his dwelling, his call-
ing, his servant, or master, he should seem thrown upon his God
and his religion by chance ? and that least should appear of
caution, care, and punctual dealing, in our very greatest con-
cernment ? How great a day in a man's life doth he count his
marriage-day ! How accurate are men wont to be, in all the
preparations and previous settlements that are to be made ia
3 -
4S0 SEt.F-DEmcATIOJr*
order (o it ! And since the great God is pleased to be so very-
pa rticular with us, in proposing the model and contents of his
covenant, the promises and precepts which make his part and
ours in it ; how attentive should we be to his proposals, and
how express in our consent t especially, when we consider his
admirable condescension in it, that he is pleased (and disdains
not) to capitulate with the work of his hands, to article with
dust and ashes* Is it reasonable we should be slight and su-
perficial in a treaty with that great Lord of heaven and earth,
or scarce ever purposely apply and set ourselves to mind him
in it at all ?
(3.) Moreover it is your ozsn concernment, and therefore
ought to be transacted by yourself. So far as there is any
equity in that rule, Quod tan git omnes debet ab omnibus
tractare — What concerns all should be transacted by all^ it re-
solves into this, and supposes it, Quod langit meipsum debet
tractare a meipso — That which concerns myself should be trans*
acted by myself.
Again, your being devoted by parents, no more excuses
from solemn, personal, self-devoting, than their doing other
acts of religion for you, excuses you from doing them for
yourselves. They have prayed for you, are you therefore
never to pray for yourselves ? They have lamented your sin,
are you never therefore to lament your own ?
(4.) Consider further, Scripture warns us not to lay too
much stress upon parental privilege, or place too much confi-
dence in it, which it supposes men over apt to do, Mat. 3..
7 — 9. Abraham's seed may be a generation of vipers. John
8. 37, 44. I know you are Abraham's seed, yet he finds them
another father.
(5.) Consider moreover, the renewing work of God's grace
( and Spirit upon souls, consists in sanctifying their natural fa-
culties, their understandings, consciences, wills, affections.
And what are these sanctified for, but to be used and exercised ?
* And to what more noble purpose ? If there be that holy impress
upon the soul, that inclines all the powers of it God-ward,
what serves it for, but to prompt and lead it on to the cor-
respondent acts ? to apprehend and eye God, to admit a con-»
viction of duty, and particularly, how I owe myself to him j
to choose, love, fear, and serve him ; and what doth all this
import less, than an entire self-resignation to him ? So that
the genuine tendency of the holy new nature is in nothing so
directly answered and satisfied as in this. And it ought to be
considered j that the faculties of our reasonable souls have a
SELF-DEDICATION* 481
natural improvement and perfection, as well as a gracious.
And for their highest and noblest acts, it is fit they should he
used in their highest perfection. It is possible, that in (lie
children of religious parents, there may be some pious inclina-
tions betimes ; and the sooner they thereupon choose the God
of their fathers, the better, that is, if you compare doing it
and not doing it, it is better done, than not done. But because
this is a thing that cannot be too often done, nor too well ; the
more mature your understanding is, the better it will be done,
the grace of God concurring. Our Lord himself increased in
wisdom, &c.
(6.) Moreover, let it be seriously thought on (what it is
dreadful to think) the occasion you will give, if you decline
this surrendering yourselves, to have your neglect taken for a
refusal. It is impossible, when you once understand the case,
you can be in an indifferency about it. You must either take,
or leave.
(7. ) Nor can it be denied but personal self-devoting, one way
or other, (more or less solemn,) is most necessary to the con-
tinuing serious Christianity in the world. Without it, our re-
ligion were but res unius cetatis — the business of an age: for
how unlikely were it, and absurd to suppose, that a man should
seriously devote his child to God, that never devoted himself?
And if that were done never so seriously, must one be a
Christian always, only by the Christianity of another, not his
own ? Some way or other then, a man must devote himself to
God in Christ, or be, at length, no Christian. And since
he must, the nature of the thing speaks, that the more solemn
and express it is, the better, and more suitable to a transac-
tion with so great a Majesty.
And hath not common reason taught the world to fix a Iran'
situs, and settle some time or other, wherein persons should be
reckoned to have past out of their state of infancy or minority,
into the state of manhood or an adult state ; wherein, though
before, they could not legally transact affairs for themselves, yet
afterwards they could ? This time, by the constitutions of
several nations, and for several purposes, hath been diversely
fixed. But they were not to be looked upon as children al-
ways. Some time they come to write man. Is it reasonable
one should be a child, and a minor in the things of God and
religion, all his days? always in nonage ? Sometime they must
be men in understanding, (1 Cor. 14. 20.) and have their
senses exercised to discern between good and evil, Heb. 5. 14.
Yea, and there is far greater reason we should personally
vol. i. 3 Q
482 SELF-DEDICATION.
and solemnly transact this great affair with God, than any con-
cern we have with men. For, among men we may have a
right by natural descent, or by valuable considerations, to
what we enjoy, which may be clear and little liable to ques-
tion : from God we have no right, but by his favour and
vouchsatement. You are his children, if ever you come to
be so, but by adoption. And human adoption has been wont
to be completed by a solemnity ; the person to adopt, being
publicly asked (in that sort of adoption which was also called
arrogation) utrum eum quern adoptaturus esset y justum sibi
JiUum esse vellet — whether he would have this person to bt
as his own very son ? And again ; Hie qui adoptabatur — utrum
idjieri pateretur — he that was to be adopted, whether he was
contented it should be so ?*
Nor again is there that disinclination towards men, as to-
wards God, or that proneness to revolt from settled agreements,
with the one, as with the other. Whereas love sums up all
the duty of both the tables ; or which we owe both to God
and man ; it is evident that, in our present lapsed state, our love
to God is more impaired, than to man. Indeed this latter seems
only diminished, the other is destroyed, and hath, by nature, no
place in us ; grace only restores it. Where it is m some
measure restored, we find it more difficult to exercise love to-
wards God, than man ; which the apostle's reasoning implies,
u He that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how
ean he love God whom he bath not seen ?" 1 John 4. 20.
Who- sees not that sensuality hath buried the rational world J
Unregenerate man is said to be in the flesh, not as being
only lodged in it, as all are alike, but governed by it, under
its power : as the holy apostle is said to have been in the
Spirit on the Lord's day, Rev. 1. To be in the flesh is
expounded by being and walking after it, Rom. 8. Hence
men only love and savour the things within this sensible
sphere. They that are after the flesh, do savour only the things
of the flesh. Where the regenerate, divine life is implanted,
it doth male habitare — is ill lodged^ in conjunction with a strong
remaining sensual inclination : so that where the soul is some-
what raised by it, out of that mire and dirt, there is a continual
decidency r a proneness to relapse, and sirdt back into it. Im-
pressions therefore of an invisible Ruler and Lord (as of all
unseen things) are very evanid ; soon, in a great degree worn
off; especially where they were but in making, and not yet
• Cal. Lex. Jurid.
SELF-DEDICATION. 48S
thoroughly inwrought into the temper of the soul. Hence is
that instability in the covenant of God. We are not so afraid
before, nor ashamed afterwards, of breaking engagements with
him, as with men, whom we are often to look in the face,
and converse with every day.
Therefore there is the more need here of the strictest ties,
and most solemn obligations, that we can lay upon ourselves.
How apprehensive doth that holy, excellent governor, Joshua,
(Josh. 24.) seem of this, when he was shortly to leave the peo-
ple under his conduct! And what urgent means doth he use, to
bring them to the most express, solemn dedication of them-
selves to God, that was possible; first representing the reason-
ableness and equity of the thing, from the many endearing
wonders of mercy (as here the apostle beseeches these Romans
by the mercies of God) which he recounts from the beginning,
to the 14th verse of that 24th chapter : then, thereupon ex-
horting them to " fear the Lord and serve him in sincerity,"
&c. in that 14fh verse, telling them, withal, if they should all
resolve otherwise to a man, what his own resolution was, (v. 15.)
" And if it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, choose you
this day whom ye will serve ; whether the gods which your
fathers served, that were on the other side of the flood, or the
gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell : but as for me
and my house, we will serve the Lord ;" taking also their ex-
press answer, which they give, v. 16 — 18. But fearing they
did not enough consider the matter, he, as it were, puts them
back (esteeming himself to have gotten an advantage upon
them) that they might come on again with the more vigour
and force. " Ye cannot serve the Lord : for he is a holy God ;
he is a jealous God ; he will not forgive your transgressions
nor your sins. If you forsake the Lord : and serve strange
gods, then he will turn and do you hurt, and consume you,
after that he hath done you good," v. 19, 20. Hereupon,
according to his expectation and design, they reinforce their
vow, "Nay, but we will serve the Lord." And upon this, he
closes with them, and takes fast hold of them, " Ye are wit-
nesses" (saith he) "against yourselves, that ye have chosen
the Lord to serve him." And they say, " We are witnesses,"
v. 22. He exhorts them afresh, and they engage over again,
v. 23, 24. Thus a covenant is made with them, v. 25. After
all this, a record is taken of the whole transaction ; it is booked
down, (v. 26.) and a monumental stone set up, to preserve
the memory of this great transaction. And the good man tells
them, " Behold, this stone shall be a witness unto us ; for it
484: SELF-DEDICATION.
hath heard all the words of the Lord which he spake unto us :
it shall therefore be a witness unto you, lest ye deny your
Go 1." So he dismisses them, and lets them go every one to his
inheritance.
Nor is it to be neglected that Isa. 44. 5. (which is generally
agreed to refer to the times of the gospel) it is so expressly set
down, "One shall say, lam the Lord's ; and anofher shall call
himself by the name of Jacob; and another shall subscribe
with his hand unto the Lord, and surname himself by the
name of Israel." In the rendering of which words, " sub-
scribe with (he hand" the versions vary. Some read, inscribe
in their hands, the Lord's name; counting it an allusion to
the ancient custom, as to servants and soldiers, that they were
to carry, stamped upon the palm of their hands, the name of
their master or o-p n eraI. The Syriac read to the same sense as
we — S'hnH rive an hand writing to be the Lord's. That the
thing be done, and with great seriousness, distinctness, and
solemnity, is no doubt highly reasonable and necessary ; about
the parti( ular manner 1 prescribe not.
-Nor can 1 imagine what, any man can have to object, but the
backwardness of his own heart to any intercourse or conversa-
tion with the invisible God : Avhich is but an argument of the
miserable condition of depraved mankind ; and none, that the
thing is not to be done. For, that backwardness must pro-
ceed from some deeper reason than that God is invisible : area-
son, that should not only convince, but amaze us, and even
overwhelm our souls in sorrow and lamentation, to think what
slate the nature and spirit of man are brought into ! For is not
the devil invisible too ? .And Avhat Avretch is there so silly and
ignorant, but can by the urgency of discontent, envy, and an
appetite of revenge, rind a way to fall into a league with him ?
is this, that God is less 'conversable with men ? less willing to
be found of them that seek Him ? No surely, *but that men
have less mind and inclination to seek Him ! And is this a pos-
ture and temper of spirit towards the God that made us, (the
continual spring of our life and being!) in Avhich it is fit for
its to tolerate ourselves ? Shall not the necessity of this thing,
and of our own case, (not capable of remedy while we Avithhold
ourselves from God,) overcome all the imagined difficulty in
applying ourselves to Him ?
Us". And upon Ihe whole, if we agree the thing itself to
be necessary, it cannot be doubted, but it will appear to be
* Read considerately, Heb. 11. 6,
SELF-DEDICATION. 4S5
of common concernment to us all; and that every one must
apprehend it is necessary to me, and to me, whether we have
done it already, or not done it. If we have not, it cannot be
done too soon ; if we have, it cannot be done too often. And
it. may now be done, by private, silent ejaculation, the con-
vinced, persuaded heart saying- within itself, " Lord, I con-
sent to be wholly thine, I here resign and devote mj-self abso-
lutely and entirely to thee." None of you know what may be
in the heart of another, to this purpose, even at this time.
Why then should not every one fear to be the only person of
those who now hear, that disagrees to it? If any find his
heart to reluctate and draw back, it is fit such a one should
consider, "I do not know but this self-devoting disposition and
resolution is the common sense of all the rest, even of all that
are now present but mine." And who would not dread to be
the only one in an assembly, that shall refuse God ! or refuse
himself to him ! For, let such a one think, (i What particular
reason can I have to exclude myself from such a consenting
chorus ? Why should I spoil the harmony, and give a dis-
agreeing vote ? Why should any man be more willing to be
dutiful and happy than I ? to be just to God, or have him
good to me ? Why should any one be more willing to be saved
than I ; and to make one hereafter, in the glorious, innumera-
ble, joyful assembly of devoted angels and saints, that pay an
eternal, gladsome homage to the throne of the celestial King?"
But if any find their hearts inclining, let what is now begun, be
more fully completed in the closet ; and let those walls (as
Joshua's stone) hear, and bear witness!
Lest any should not consent, and that all may consent more
freely, and more largely ; I shall in a few words shew — what
should induce to it, — and what it should induce to.'
1. What should induce to it? You have divers sorts of in-
ducements.
(1.) Such as may be taken from necessity; For what else
can you do with yourself? You cannot be happy without it,
for who should make you so but God ? and how shall he,
while you hold off yourselves from him ? You cannot but be
miserable, not only as not having engaged him to you, but as
having engaged him against you.
(2.) Such as may be taken from equity. You are his right.
He hath a natural right in you as he is your Maker, the Author
of your being : and an acquired right as you were bought
by his Son, who hath redeemed us to God, (Hev. 5. 9.) and
who died, rose again, and revived, that he might be Lord of
486 SELF-DEDICATION.
the living and the dead, here, to rule, hereafter, to judge us.
Both which he can do whether we will or no : but it is not to
be thought he will save us against ourwills. His method is,
whom he saves, first to overcome, that is, to make them "will-
ing in the day of his power." And dare we, who " live,
move, and have our being in him," refuse to be, live, and
move to him ? or " deny the Lord who bought us ?"
(3.) And again, Such as may be taken from ingenuity, or
that should work upon it, namely, (what we are besought by,
in the text,) " the mercies of God." How manifold arc they !
But they are the mercies of the gospel especially, mentioned in
the foregoing chapter, which are thus refered unto in the be-
ginning of this, the transferring what the Jews forfeited and
lost, by their unbelief, unto us Gentiles; that "mystery" (a*
this apostle elsewhere calls it, Eph. 3. 4 — 6.) "which in other
ages was not made known unto the sons of men, as it is now
revealed unto his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit;
That the Gentiles should be fellow-heirs, and of the same
body, and partakers of his promise in Christ, by the gospel :"
(In reference whereto he so admiringly cries out a little above
the text, (ck. 11. 33.) r n 0*0®., " O the depth both of the
wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable are his
judgments, and his ways past finding out !") the mercies of
which it is said, Isa. 55. 1 — 3. " Ho, every one thatthirsteth,
come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money ; come ye,
buy and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money,
And without price. Wherefore do ye spend your money
for that which is not bread, and your labour for that which
satisfieth not? Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that
which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. Incline
your ear, and come unto me : hear, and your soul shall live ;
and 1 will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure
mercies of David." Which free and sure mercies are height-
ened, as to us, by the same both endearing and awful circum-
stance, that these mercies are offered to us, namely, in con-
junction with the setting before our eyes the monitory, tremen-
dous example of a forsaken nation that rejected them, intimat-
ed 'i>. 5. " Behold, thou shalt call a nation that thou knowest
' not; and nations that knew not thee shall rim unto thee :" a
«ase whereof our apostle says, in the foregoing chapter, (Rom.
10. 20.) Isaiah was very bold ; when, speaking of it in another
place, (Isa. 65. 1.) he uses these words, " I am sought of (hem
that asked not for met I am found of them that, sought me not :
I said, Behold me, behold me. unto a nation that was not
SELF-DEDICATIOW* 487
Called by my name." He was bold in it indeed, to mention
such a thing to a people, unto whom a jealous gloriation in the
peculiarity of their privileged state, their being without part-
ners or rivals, for so long a time, in their relation and nearness
to God, was grown so natural : and who took it so impatient-
ly, when our Saviour did but intimate the same thing to them
by parables, (Mat. 21. 33 — 46.) as that they sought immediate-
ly to lay hands on him for that very reason. So unaccountable
a perverseness of humour reigned witli them, that they envied
to others, what they despised themselves.
But on the other hand, nothing ought more highly to re-
commend those mercies to us, or more engage us to accept
them with gratitude, and improve them with a cautious fear of
committing a like forfeiture, than to have them brought to our
hands, redeemed from the contempt of the former despisers of
them ; and that, so terribly, vindicated upon them at the same
time ; as it also still continues to be. That the natural branches
of the olive should be torn off, and we inserted : that there
should be such an instance given us of the severity and good-
ness of God, ch. 11. (To them that fell, severity ; but to us,
goodness, if we continue in his goodness, to warn us that,
otherwise, we may expect to be cut off too ! and that we
might apprehend, if he spared not the natural branches, he
was as little likely to spare us!) that when he came to lib
own and they received him not, he should make so free an
offer to us, that if we would yet receive him (which if we
do, we are, as hath been said, to 'yield up and dedicate our-
selves to him at the same time) we should have the privilege
to be owned for the sons of God ! what should so oblige us to
compliance with him, and make us with an ingenuous trem-
bling fall before him, and (crying to him, My Lord and my
God) resign ourselves wholly to his power and pleasure ?
And even his mercies more abstractly considered ought to
Lave that power upon us. Were we not lost ? Are we not res-
cued from a necessity of perishing, and being lost for ever, in
the .most costly way? costly, to our Redeemer, but to us^
without cost. Is it a small thing, that he offers himself to us
as he doth when he demands us, and requires that we offer our-
selves to him : that he, in whom is all the fulness of God, hav*
ing first offered himself for us, doth now offer himself also to us :
tliat he hath treated us, hitherto, with such indulgence, waited
on us with so long patience, sustained us by so large bounty ?
And now upon all, when it might be thought we should be com-
muning with our own hearts, discoursing the matter with our-
488 SSLF-»ET)TCATTON-.
selves, <: What shall we Bender ?" that he should say to us so
shortly and compendiously, lender yourselves. Is that too
much ? .Are we too inconsiderable to be his, or his mercies too
inconsiderable to oblige us fo be so ? the mercies that flow so
freely from him, for he is the Father of mercies : the mercies
that are so suitable to us, pardon to the guilty, light to them
that dwell in darkness, life to the dead, a rich portion and all-
sufficient fulness for the poor, indigent, and necessitous: the
mercies that we are encouraged to expect as well as what we
enjoy : the great good laid up in store ! the mercies of eternity
to be added to those of time : the mercies of both worlds,
meeting upon us! that here, we are to keep ourselves in the
love of Go:], waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ
unto eternal life ! (.hide 21.) that, looking for that blessed
hope, our life may here, in the mean time, be transacted with
1dm, that we may abide in the secret of his presence, and
dwelling in Jove, may dwell in God who is love ; till the season
come, whci\ Ave shall be able more fully to understand his
love, and return our own !
Nor are the favours of his nrovidence to be thought little of
m the time of our earthly pilgrimage. And now, if all this
do effectually induce us to dedicate ourselves,
2. We are next to consider what our having done it, ought
further to induce us unto.
- In the general, it ought, to bean inducement to us (as we
may well apprehend) to behave ourselves answerably to such
a state, as we are hereby brought into, if we', now first dedi-
cated ourselves to him, and are confirmed in, by our iterations
of it. For lie takes no pleasure in fools, therefore having
vowed ourselves to him, to serve, and live to him, let us pay
what we have vowed. Better it had been not to vow, than to
vow and not pay ; and instead of the reasonable sacrifice he
required of us, to give him only the sacrifice of fools. We
are, upon special terms, and for special ends, peculiar to the
most high God. They that are thus his, are " a royal priest-
hood, He hath made us kings and priests.'* llcv. 1. 6. Both
those offices and dignities have sometime met in the same per-
son. And to God and his Father, that is, for him. Not that
both those offices do terminate upon God, or that the work of
both is to be performed towards hiin, but our Lord Jesus, it
being the design of his Father we should be brought into that
high and honourable station, hath effected it, in compliance
with his design, and hath served his pleasure and purpose in
it. lie hath done it to, that is, for him. So that, to God
1
SfiLF-DEDICATtON. 489
and his Father may be refered to Christ's action, in making
us kings and priests, not to ours, being made such. Yet the
one of these refers to God immediately, the other to ourselves.
Holy and good men are kings in reference to themselves, in
respect, of their self-dominion into which they are now restored,
having been, as all unregenerate persons are, slaves to vile
and carnal affections and inclinations. The minds of the re-
generate are made spiritual, and now with them the refined,
rectified, spiritual mind, is enthroned ; lifted up into its proper
authority over all sensual inclinations, appctitions, lusts and
passions. A glorious empire! founded in conquest, and
managed afterwards, when the victory is complete, (and in the
meantime, in some degree, while " judgment is in bringing
forth unto victory,") by a steady, sedate government in most
perfect tranquillity and peace.
But they are priests in reference to God ; the business of
their office, as such, terminates upon him ; for him they
worship and serve. Worship is either social, external and
circumstantial, that of worshipping societies, considered ac-
cording to its exterior part, wherein one is appointed by
special office to do the part of a priest for the rest ; (in this
sense all are not priests ; ) or else it is solitary, internal, sub-
stantial and spiritual, wherein they either worship alone, and
apart by themselves, or being in conjunction with others, yet
their own spirits within them work directly, and aspire upwards
to God. And as to this more noble part of their worship, ever/
holy man is his own priest..
And this is the double dignity of every holy, devoted soul.
They are thus kings, and priests ; govern themselves, and serve
God. While they govern, they serve: exercise authority over
themselves, with most submiss veneration of God : crowned,
and enthroned; but always in a readiness to cast down their
crowns at the footstool of the supreme, celestial throne. Into
this state they come by self-dedication. And now surely, it is
iiot for such to demean themselves at a vulgar rate. They are
of the lx.x.\-nai!x, •ETfwTOToxwv — the church of the first-born written
in heaven,- (Heb. 12. 23.) that is, the church of the first-born
ones ; that is, all composed and made up of such ; (as that ex-
pression signifies ;) first-born, in a true (though not the most
eminent) sense, being sons by the first, that is, the prime and
more excellent sort of birth, in respect whereof they are said to
be begotten again (James 1. 18.) by the word of truth, that
they should be a kind of first-fruits of the creatures of God.
And this twofold dignity is the privilege oIl their birthright,
vol. i. 3 k
SELF-DEDICATION.
as anciently it" was. Are you devoted to God? Have you dedi-^
cated yourselves? Hereby you are arrived to this dignity. For
in the above-mention- id place (Heb. 12.) it is said, " Ye are
come;' 1 you are actually, already, adjoined to that church,
and are the real present members of' that holy community.
For yow are related and united to him of whom the family of
heaven and earth is named; (Eph. 3.) are of the household,
and the sons of God, his, under that peculiar notion, when you
have dedicated yourselves to him. You cannot but apprehend
there are peculiarities of behaviour in your after-conduct and
management of yourselves that belong to you, and must answer
and correspond to your being, in this sense, his. Some par-
ticulars whereof I shall briefly mention.
(1.) You should each of you often reflect upon it, and be-
think yourself what you have done, and Avhose you now are.
Ci I am the devoted one of the most high God." It was one
of the precepts given by a Pagan (Epict.) to his disciples,
"Think with yourself, upon all occasions, T am a philoso-
pher." What a world of sin and trouble might that thought,
often renewed, prevent, M 1 am a Christian, one devoted' to God
in Christ." Your having done this thing, should clothe your
mind with new apprehensions, both of God and yourselves :
that he is not now a stranger to you, but your God, that you.
are not unrelated to him, but his. " I was an enemy, now am
reconciled. I was a common, profane thing, now holiness to
the Lord." It is strange to think how one act doth sometimes
fiabit and tincture a man's mind ; whether in the kind of good
or evil. To have committed an act of murder I What a horrid
complexion of mind did Cain bear with him hereupon. To
have dedicated one's self to God, if seriously and duly done ;
would it have less power to possess one with a holy, calm,
peaceful temper of mind ?
(2.) You should, hereupon, charge yourself with all suita-
ble duty towards him ; for you have given yourself to him
to serve him ; that is your very business. You are his, and are
to do his work, not your own, otherwise than as it falls in with
his, and is his. You are to discharge yourself of all unsuita-
ble cares ; for will not he take care of his own, who hath put so
ill a note upon them that do not ? He that provideth not for
his oavu, (his domestics,) those of his own honse, hath denied
the faith, and is worse than an infidel ? Will you think, he can
be like such a one? Who, if not the children of a prince,
should live free from care ?
You should most deeply concern yourself about his con*
SELF-DEDICATION. 491
cernments, without any apprehension or fear that he will neg-
lect those that are most truly yours : and are not to be in-
different how his -interest thrives, or is depressed in the world ;
is increased, or diminished. Tliey that are his, should let his
affairs engross their cares and thoughts.
You should abandon all suspicious, hard thoughts of him.
'When in the habitual bent of your spirits you desire to please
him, it is most injurious to him, to think lie will abandon., and
give you up to perish, or become your enemy. It is observa-
ble what care was taken among the Romans, Ne quid dedititiis
hostile illation sit — that no hostility might be used iozoards them
that had surrendered themselves. Can men excel God in
praise-worthy things ? You can think nothing of God more
contrary to his gospel, or his nature, than to surmise he will
destroy one that hath surrendered to and bears a loyal mind
-towards him. And what a reproach do you cast upon him,
when you give others occasion to say, < c His own, they that have
devoted themselves to him., dare not trust him ?" You are taught
to say, " I am thine, save me;" not to suspect he will ruin
you. They do strangely misshape religion, considering in
how great part it consists in trusting God, and living a life of
faith, that frame to themselves a religion made up of distrusts,
doubts, and fears.
You should dread to alienate yourselves from him, which
(as sacrilege is one of the most detestable of all sins, a robbing
of God) is the most detestable sacrilege. You are to reserve
yourselves entirely for him. Every one that is godly he hath
set apart for himself, Ps. 4.
Yea," and you are not only to reserve, but to your uttermost,
to improve and better yourselves for him daily : to aspire to
an excellency, in some measure, suitable to your relation : iC to
walk worthy of God, who hath called you to his kingdom and
glory," (1 Thess. 2. 32.) remembering you are here to glorify
him, and hereafter to be glorified with him. And who is there
of us that finds not himself "under sufficient obligation, by the
mercies of God, unto all this ? or to whom he may not say, in
a far more eminent sense, than the apostle speaks it to Philemon,
"Thou owest even thyself also unto me?" Shall we refuse to
give God what we owe ? or can we think it fit, itself, " we
should be no otherwise his, than (as one well says) fields, woods,
and mountains, and brute beasts ?" And I may add, can it be
comfortable to us, that he should have no other interest in us
■ m than he hath in devils ? Is there no difference in the case of rea-
sonable creatures and unreasonable ? their'swho profess devoted-
492 SELF-DEDICATION.
ncss to him, and their's who are his professed enemies ? The one
sort, through natural incapacity, cannot, by consent, be his, and
the other, through an invincible malignity, never will. Are
there no mercies (conferred or offered) that do peculiarly oblige
us more ? Let us be more frequent and serious in recounting our
mercies, and set ourselves on purpose to enter into the memory
of G'od's great goodness, that we may thence, from time to time,
urge upon ourselves this great and comprehensive duty. And
at (his time, being here together on purpose, let us consider
and reflect afresh upon that eminent mercy which you are wont
to commemorate in the yearly return of this day.
And that I may, more particularly, direct my speech the
same way, that the voice of that memorable providence is
especially directed ; you are, my Lord, to be more peculiarly
besought by the mercies of God, that you would this day de-
dicate yourself to him. 1 do therefore beseech you, by the
many endearing mercies which God hath so plentifully confer-
red upon you, by the mercies of your noble extraction and
birth, by the mercies of your very ingenious and pious educa-
tion, by the mercies of your family, which God hath made to
descend to you from your honourable progenitors ; (which, as
they are capable of being improved, may be very valuable
mercies : ) by the blood and tender mercies of your blessed and
glorious Redeemer, who offered up himself a Sacrifice to God
for you, that you would now present yourself to God, a holy,
living sacrifice, which is your reasonable service. I add, by
the signal mercy which hath made this a memorable day
to you, and by which you come, thus long, to enjoy the ad-
vantages of all your other mercies. How came it to pass that
this day comes not to be remembered by your noble relatives,
as a black and a gloomy day, the day of the extinction of the
present light and lustre of your family, and of quenching
their coal which was left? You had a great Preserver, who we
hope delivered you because he delighted in you. Your life
•was precious in his sight. Your breath was in his hand ; he
preserved and renewed it to you, when you were ready to
breathe your last. And we hope he will vouchsafe you that
greater deliverance, not to let you fall under the charge which
was once exhibited against a great man, (Dan. 5. 23.) " The
God in whose hands thy breath is hast thou not glorified :"
and make you rather capable of adopting those words, (Ps.
42. 8.) " Yet the Lord will command his loving kindness in
the day time, and in the night his song shall be with me, and
jny prayer unto the God of my life." Your acknowledgments
SELF-DEDICATION. 493
are not to be limited to one day in the year ; but from day to
day his loving kindness, arid your prayer and praise, are to
compose your wK^v^po^ day and night ; the one, to shew you,
tbe other, to be unto you your morning and evening exercise.
Let this be your resolution, " Every day will I bless thee ;
and I will praise thy name for ever and ever ;." (Ps. 145. 2.)
or that, (Ps. 104. 33.) « I will sing unto the Lord as long
as I live : I will sing praise unto my God while I have my
being."
Yet your more solemn acknowledgments are justly pitched
upon this day. God hath noted it for you, and made it a great
day in your time. You have now enjoyed a septenniwn,
seven years of mercies. And we all hope you will enjoy many
more, which may all be culled the posterity of that day's
mercy. It was the parent of them all ; so pregnant and pro-
ductive a mercy was that of this day. You do owe it to the
mercy of this day, that you have yet a lite to devote to the
great Lord of heaven and earth, and to employ in the world
for him : and would you think of any less noble sacrifice ?
iEschines the philosopher, out of his admiration of Socrates,
when divers presented him with other gifts, made a tender to
him of himself. Less was thought an insufficient acknowledg-
ment, of the worth and favours of a man ! Can any thing less
bethought worthy of a God? I doubt not you intend, my
Lord, a life of service to the God of your life. You would not,
I presume, design to serve him under any other notion, than as
his. By dedicating yourself to him, you become so in the
peculiar sense. It is our part in the covenant which must be
between God and us. « I entered into covenant with thee,
and thou becamest mine," Lzek. 16. 8. This is the ground
of a settled relation, which we are to 1 * ar towards him, as his
servants. It is possible I may do an occasional service for one
whose servant I am not ; but it were mean that a great person
should only be served by the servants of another lord. To be
served but precariously, and as it were upon courtesy only,
true greatness would disdain ; as if his quality did not admit
to have servants of his own.
Nor can it bethought a serious Christian (in howsoever dig-
nifying circumstances) should reckon himself too great to be his
servant, when even a heathen (Seneca) pronounces, Deo ser-
vire est regnare — to serve God is to reign. A religious noble-
man of France (Mounsieur de Renty, whose affection 1 com-
mend more than this external expression of it) tells us he
made a deed of gift of himself to God, signing it with his own
4#4 SELF-IVEDICATIOX,
Mood. He was much a greater maa, that so often speaks m
tliaf style, Thy servant, that it is plain he took pleasure in it,
and counted it his highest glory. " Stablish (by word unjo
thy servant, who is devoted to thy fear," Ps. 119. 38. -Thy
servant, ihy servant, O Lord, the son of thy handmaid;"
(alluding to the law by which the children of bond-servant
were servants by birth ;) " thou hast broken my bonds ;',' (Ps.
116.) hast released ine from worse bonds, that I might not only
be patient, but. glad to be under thine.
Nor was he a mean prince* in his time, who at length aban-
doning the pleasures and splendour of his own court, (where-
of many like examples might be given,) retired and assumed
the name of Christodulus — A servant of Christ, accounting the,
glory of that name did outshine, not only that of his other
illustrious titles, but of the imperial diadem too. There are
very few in trie world, whom the too common atheism can give
temptation unto to think religion an ignominy, and to count it
a reproach to be the devoted servant of the most high God ;
but have it at hand to answer themselves, even by human (not
to speak of the higher angelical) instances, that he hath been
served b}^ greater than we.
You are, my Lord, shortly to enter upon the more public
stage of the world. You will enter with great advantages of
hereditary honour, fortune, friends ; wilh the greater advantage
of (I hope) a well cultivated mind, and (what is yet greater)
of a piously inclined heart : but you will also enter with dis-
advantages too. It is a slippery stage; it is a divided time,
wherein there is interest against interest, party against party.
To have seriously and with a pious obstinacy dedicated yourself
to God, will both direct and fortify you.
I know no party in which nothing is amiss. Nor will that
measure, let you think it advis<able, to be of any, further
than to unite with what there is of real, true godliness among
them all. Neither is there any surer rule or measure for your
direction, than this ; to take the course and way which are
most agreeable to a state of devotedness to God. Reduce all
things else, hither. Wheresoever you believe, in your con-
science, there is a sincere design for the interest and glory
of God, the honour or safety of your prince, the real good
and welfare of your country, there you are to fall in, and
adhere. And the first of these comprehends the rest. You
* Cantacuzenus, whose life also, among many other remarkable thing;;,
'was once strangely preserved in the fall of his horse.
1
SELF-DEDICATION. 495
■Will not be the less inclined, but much the more, to give Cassar
the things that are Cassar's, for your giving God the things
that are God's. And that is (as hath been said) principally
and in the first place yourself; and then all that is yours
to be used according to his holy rules, and for him whose
you are.
And what can be to you the ground of a higher fortitude?
Can they be unsafe that have devoted themselves to God ? De-
dicate yourself, and you become a sanctuary (as well as a sa-
crifice) inviolably safe in what part, and in what respects, it
is considerable to be so. And who can think themselves un-
safe, being, with persevering fidelity, sacred to God ; that
understand who he is, and consider his power and dominion
over both worlds, the present, and that which is to come ; so as
that he can punish and reward in both, as men prove false or
faithful to him. The triumphs of wickedness are short, in this
world. In how glorious triumphs will religion and devotcd-
ness to God end in the other !
-
TWO
SERMONS,
PREACHED AT
THURLOW, IN SUFFOLK,
On those words, Rom. 6. 13,
* f YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD/'
VOL. T. 3 3
TO THE MUCH-HONOURED
BARTHOLOMEW SOAME, Esq.
OF
THURLOW,
AND
SUSANNA, HIS PIOUS CONSORT.
My worthy Friends,
I HAVE at length yielded to your importunity, and do here offer these
sermons to public view and your own, which were one day the last
summer preached under your roof; attributing more to your pious de-
sign herein, than to my own reasons against it. I no farther insist upon
the incongruity, having divers years ago published a small treatise of
Self-dedication, now again to send abroad another on the same subject.
For the way of tractation is here very different; this may fall into the
hands of divers, who have never seen the other; and however, they who
have read the other, have it in their choice whether they will trouble
themselves with this or no. And though your purpose which you urged
me with, of lodging one of these little books in each family of the hearers,
might have been answered by so disposing of many a better book already
extant; yet you having told me how greatly you observed them to be
moved by these plain discourses, considering the peculiar advantage of
reading what had been with some acceptance and relish heard before,
(through that greatervigour that accompanies the ordinance of preaching
to an assembly, than doth usually the solitary first reading of the same
thing,) I was not willing to run the hazard of incurring a guilt, by re-
fusing a thing so much desired, and which, through God's blessing,
might contribute something, though in never so low a degree, to the
saving of men's souls. I could not indeed, as I told you, undertake to
recollect every thing that was spoken, according to that latitude and free-
dom of expression wherewith it was fit to inculcate momentous things to a
plain country-auditory. But I have omitted nothing I could call to
mind ; being little concerned that the more curious may take notice,
with dislike, how much in a work of this kind I prefer plainness (though
they may call it rudeness) of speech, before that which goes for wisdom
i>( words, or the most laboured periods.
500 the epistle'dedicatory.
May you find an abundant blessing on your household, for the sake of
the ark which you have so piously and kindly received. And whereas,
by your means, the parts about you have a help for the spreading the
knowledge of God among them, added to what they otherwise more
statedly enjoy ; may the blessing of Heaven succeed all sincere endeavours
of both sorts, to the more general introducing of the new man which is
renewed in knowledge — "where there is neither Jew nor Greek, cir-
cumcision nor uncircumcision, but Christ is all, and in all :" to whose
grace you are, with sincere affection, and great sense of your kindness,
earnestly recommended by
Your much obliged,
Faithful Servant in Christ,
JOHN HOWS.
TWO SERMONS.
Rom. 6. 13.
Yield yourselves to God.
THESE are but a few words, but I can speak to you of no
greater or more important thing than I am to press
upon you from them this day. We are above taught how
absurd it is to continue in sin, whereto we are avowedly dead,
(v. 1, 2.) as is signified by our baptism; together with our
entrance into a new state of life, and that in both we are to be
conformed unto the death and resurrection of Christ, (v. 3 — 5.)
so that sin ought now no more to have a new dominion over
«s, than death can again have over him, v. 6 — 10. We are
therefore exhorted so to account of ourselves and of our pre-
sent state, that " we are dead to sin, but alive to God through
Jesus Christ our Lord ;" and thereupon never more to let sin
govern us or reign over us, or yield to it, v. 11 — 13. former
part. But what then ? How are we otherwise to dispose of
ourselves ? If we may not yield ourselves to the service of sin,
what are we then to do with ourselves ? The text tells us, and
the very reason of the thing shews it ; But yield yourselves to
God, &c. The subject to be discoursed of is an express pre-
cept, charging it upon us all as our unquestionable duty, to
yield ourselves to God ; which therefore it can only be our
business in speaking to this text, to explain and apply.
I. We are to explain it. Whosoever shall charge upon
others such a duty, not obvious, perhaps, at the first view,
in the full extent of it, to every one's understanding, may well
expect to be asked, u But what do you mean by this precept?
or what doth this yielding ourselves to God signify ?" And
here are two things to be opened to you. — How or under what
notions we are to consider God and ourselves in this matter :
and — What our yielding ourselves to him, so considered, must
include.
First, How or under what notions are we to consider God
and ourselves in. this matter ?
1. How are we to consider or look upon God in this affair ?
502 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD.
You are to consider him both as he is in himself, and accord-
ing to the relations he bears to you ; whether before your
yielding yourselves to him, or in and upon your so doing.
(1.) As he is in himself. You that have heard, or now read
what I have said, and do write, here make a stand, and bethink
yourselves a while. What ! are you about yielding your-
selves to God ? Sure you ought to be thinking of it as soon as
you hear his claim laid to you. But do you now know with
whom you have to do ? Too many have the name of God, that
great and awful name, in their mouth or ear, and have no cor-
respondent thought in their mind ; it passes with them as a
transient sound, as soon over as another, common word of no
greater length, and leaves no impression. Perhaps there is
less in their minds to answer it, than most other words which
men use in common discourse. For they have usually distinct,
thoughts of the things they speak of; otherwise they would
neither understand one another nor themselves, but might
speak of a horse, and mean a sheep ; or be thought to mean
so. And it would no more move a man or impress his mind
to hear or mention a jest, than a matter of life and death. But
the holy and reverend name of God is often so slightly men-
tioned, as in common oaths, or in idle talk is so merely taken
in vain, that if they were on the sudden stopped, and asked
what they thought on, or had in their mind, when they men-
tioned that word, and were to make a true answer, they could
not say they thought of any thing : as if the name of God, the
All! were the name of nothing I Otherwise, had they thought
what that great name signifies, either they had not mentioned
it, or the mention of it had struck their hearts, and even over-
whelmed their very souls ! I could tell you what awe and
observance hath been wont to be expressed in reference to
that sacred name, among a people that were called by it ;
and surely the very sound of that name ought ever to shake all
the powers of our souls, and presently form them to reverence
and adoration. Shall we think it fit to play or trifle with it,
as is the common wont ? My friends, shall we now do so,
when we are called upon to yield ourselves to God ? Labour
to hear and think, and act intelligently, and as those that have
the understandings of men. And now especially in this solemn
transaction, endeavour to render God great to yourselves : en-
large your minds, that as far as is possible and needful, they
may take in the entire notion of him. As to what he is in him-
self, you must conceive of him as a Spirit., (John 4. 21.) as
his own word, which can best tell us what he is, instructs us,
2
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 503
and so as a Being of far higher excellency than any thing
you can see with your eyes, or touch with your hands, or
than can come under the notice of any of your senses. You
may easily apprehend spiritual being to be the source and
spring of life and self-moving power. This world were all
a dead unmoving lump, if there were no such thing as spirit ;
as your bodies when the soul is fled. You must conceive him
to be an eternal, self-subsisting Spirit, not sprung up into
being from another, as our souls are : but who, from the ex-
cellency of his own being, was necessarily of and from him-
self; comprehending originally and eternally in himself the
fulness of all life and being. I would tain lead you here, as
by the hand, a few plain and easy steps. You are sure that
somewhat now is — of this you can be in no doubt ; and next
you may be as sure that somewhat hath, of itself, ever been :
for if nothing at all now were, you can easily apprehend it
impossible that any thing should ever be, or of itself now be-
gin to be, and spring up out of nothing. Do but make this
supposition in your own minds, and the matter will be as plain
to you as any thing can be, that if nothing at all were now in
being, nothing could ever come into being ; wherefore you
may be sure, that because there is somewhat now in being,
there must have been somewhat or other always in be-
ing, that was eternally of itself. And then, to go a little
farther, since you know there are many things in being that
were not of themselves, you may be sure that what was
always of itself, had in it a sufficiency of active power to
produce other things ; otherwise nothing that is not of itself
could ever be ; as you know that we were not of our-
selves ; and the case is the same as to whatsoever else our
eyes behold.
You must conceive of God therefore as comprehending
originally in his own being, which is most peculiar to himself,
a power to produce all whatsoever being, excellency, and per-
fection, is to be found in all the whole creation : for there
can be nothing which either is not, or arises not from, what
was of itself. And therefore that he is an absolutely, univer-
sally, and infinitely perfect Being, and therefore that life,
knowledge, wisdom, power, goodness, holiness, justice, truth,
and all other conceivable excellencies whatsoever, do all in
highest perfection belong, as necessary attributes, unchange-
ably and without possibility of diminution unto him. And
all which his own word (agreeably to the plain reason of things)
504 YIELD YOUT.SELVES TO GOD.
doth in multitudes of places ascribe to liim ; as you that arc
acquainted with the Bible cannot but know. You must there-"
fore conceive of him, as the All in All. So great, so excellent,
so glorious a One he is, to whom you are to surrender and
yield yourselves.
You are to conceive of him as most essentially One, for there
can be but one All. And so his word teaches you to con-
ceive. "Hear, O Israel! the Lord our God is one Lord,"
Deut. 6. 4. " We know there is no other God but one," &c.
1 Cor. 8. 4 — 6. Your thoughts therefore need not be divided
within you, nor your minds hang in doubt, to whom you are
to betake and yield yourselves : there is no place or pretence
for halting between two opinions. He most righteously lays
the sole claim to you, a just God and a Saviour, and there is
none besides him, Isa. 45. 21. And so we are told often in
that and the foregoing chapters. He whose far-discerning eye
projects its beams every way, and ranges through all infinity,
says he knows not any, eh. 44. 8.
Yet again you are to conceive of him as Three in One, and
that, in your yielding yourselves to him ; as the prescribed
form, when this surrender is to be made in baptism, directs ;
which runs thus, In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost, Mat. 28. 19. You are not to be curious in your in-
quiries beyond what is written in this matter, how far the Sub-
sistents in the Godhead are three, and in what sense one ; they
cannot be both in the same sense. But there is latitude enough
to conceive how they may be distinct from each other, and
yet agree in one nature ; which in none of them depending
upon will and pleasure, sets each of them infinitely above all
created being ; which for the divine pleasure only was and is
created, Rev. 4. 11. And that we so far conceive of them as
three, as to apprehend some things spoken of one, that are
not to be affirmed of another of them, is so plain, of so great
consequence, and the whole frame of practical religion so
much depends thereon ; and even this transaction of yielding
up ourselves, (which must be introductive and fundamental
to all the rest,) that it is by no means to be neglected in our
daily course, and least of all in this solemn business, as will
more appear anon. In the mean time, set this ever blessed,
glorious God. the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, before your
e\ s, as to whom (thus in himself considered) you are now to
yield yourselves.
(2.) You must conceive of him according to the rela-
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOI). 50i>
lions -which he bears towards you, partly before your yi Id-
ino- yourselves to him, and partly in and upon your doing it.
That is,
[I.] Before you do any such thing, you must conceive of
him.
First, As your Creator, the Author of your being, of whom,
and through whom, and to whom, all things are, Horn. 11. 36.
He that made you demands you for himself. You are required
to yield yourselves to him that gave you breath.
Secondly, As the continual Sustainer of your being; and who
renews your life unto you every moment ; in whom you live,
and move, and have your being (Act. 17.28.) continually;
so that if he should withdraw his supports, you immediately
drop into nothing. But these are things common to you with.*
all other creatures ; and signify therefore his antecedent right
in you, before you have yielded yourselves, upon which you
ought i a do it, and cannot without great injustice to him de-
cline doing it. There are other consideralions also you ought
to entertain concerning him in this your yielding yourselves to
him, namely, of some things which are partly and in some
sense before it, and which it supposes, but which partly
also, and in a more special sense, would follow and be infer-
red by it.
[2.] Therefore you are to consider the relations which he
bears to you in your actually doing this. Principally, this
fourfold consideration you should have of him in your yield-
ing yourselves to him, namely, as your Owner, your Teacher,
your Ruler, and your Benefactor, and all these with the ad-
dition of Supreme, it being impossible he should have a Su-
perior ; or that there should be any one above him in any of
these. And he is in some sense all these to you before you
can have yielded yourselves; (as may in great part be collected
from what hath been already said;) but when you yield
yourselves to him, he will be all these to you in a far higher,
nobler, and more excellent sense ; and you are to yield your-
selves to him as such, or that in your so doing, he may actually
become such to you.
First, As your Owner. The God whose you are, as the
apostle speaks, Act. 27. £3. and whom, as it there follows, and
is naturally consequent, you are to serve. You were his by
a former right, as all things being made by him, are. But you
are to yield yourselves to him, that you may be more pecu-
liarly his, in a sense more excellent in itself, and more com-
fortable to you ; as Exod. 19. 5. If you will-obey — you shall
vol. i. St
$06 YIELD YOURSELVES TO COB.
be to m<ra peculiar treasure above all people, for all the earth
is mine. Of such as fear him, the great God says, They shall
be mine in the day when 1 make up my jewels, Mai. 3. 17.
Your yielding- yourselves adds nothing to his right in you ;
you therein only recognise and acknowledge the right he had-
in you before, but it adds to you a capacity and qualification,
both by the tenor of his gospel-covenant, and in the nature
of tlie thing, for such nobler uses as otherwise you cannot
serve for : as the more contemptible lumber about a man's
house may be as truly his, as the most precious things; but
neither doth he intend, nor can such meaner things admit to
be the ornaments, either of his person, or his house. The
great God intends his devoted peculiar people to be to him ar
crown and a royal diadem, (Isa. 62. 3.) when he puts away
the wicked of the earth like dross, Ps. 119. 119. In a great
house there are not only vessels of silver and gold, but also of
wood and of earth, 2 Tim. 2. 20. But it is only the purged
and sanctified soul (which is also a self-devoted one) that shall
be the vessel unto honour, being made meet for the master's
use, and prepared to every good work, t. 21. Persons and
things acquire a sacrednessby being devoted to God. Persons
especially, that can and do devote themselves, are highly
ennobled by it ; lie hereupon (beside their relative holiness),
really more and more sanctifies and frames them for his own
more immediate service and communion. Of such a people
lie tells us, that lie hath formed them for himself, and they
shall praise him ; and to them he saith, (intending it manifestly
in the more eminent sense.) Thou art mine, Isa. 43. 1,,7, 21.
Such may with a modest and humble, but with a just confi-
I'.vHv say, I am thine, save me, Ps. 119. 94. In yield-
ing yourselves consider therefore first, that he is your Owner
by an unquestionable former right, and let that effectually
move you to do it with all your hearts. For will you not give -
him his own ? When vou account duty to vour prince obliges
you to give to Ca?sar the things that are Caesar's, will you not
give God the things that are God's? And will you not know
hkn for your Owner? The Ox knows his owner, Isa. 1. 3. Or
will it satisfy you to be h\ no other kind his,, than brutes and
devils are, that either through an incapacity of nature cannot
acknowledge him, or through a malignity of nature will not ?
O yield yourselves, with humble desire and expectation that he
will vouchsafe otherwise to own you !
.Secondly, As your Teacher ; so indeed he also is to all men,
though they never yield themselves to him. He that teaches
I
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 507
man knowledge, shall not lie know ? Ps. 94. 10. There is a
spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty gives him
understanding. Yea and inferior creatures, as they all owe.
their natures and peculiar instincts to him, may be said to
have him for their Teacher too. But will it content you to
be so only taught by him ? There is another sort of teaching,
which if you yield yourselves to him as your great Instructor,
he Avill vouchsafe unto you. The things you know not,
and which it is necessary you should know, he will teach you,
that is, such things as are of real necessity to your true and
final welfare, not which only serve to please your fancy, or
gratify your curiosity : for his teaching respects an appoint-
ed, certain end, suitable to his wisdom and mercy, and to the
calamity and danger of your state. The teaching requisite for
perishing sinners, was, what they might do to be saved. And
when we have cast about in our own thoughts never so much,
we have no way to take but to yield ourselves to God, who
will then be our most undeceiving Guide. To whom it belongs
to save us at last, to him only it can belong to lead us in the
way to that blessed end.
Many anxious inquiries and fervent disputes there have been,
how one may be infallibly assured of the way to be saved.
They are to be excused who think it not fit, but upon very-
plain grounds, to venture so great a concernment ; or to run
so great a hazard in a mere compliment to any man, or party of
men. Confident expressions, as, My soul for your's, and such
like, signify nothing with a cautious considering man, except
that such as them care as little for his soul as their own. The
papal infallibility some woidd have us trust to at a venture,
and would make us think it rudeness to doubt it ; when nobody
stands upon good manners in endeavouring to escape a ruin';
when a great part of their own communion trust not to it.*
And some of them have written strongly against it. t The ac-
curate stating and discussing of the controversy, how far or
in what sense any such thing as infallible light may belong to
the Christian church, are not fit for this place, nor for a dis-
course of this nature. It is enough now to say that this claim
hereof to the pope or bishop of Rome, as such, — Cannot be
proved, and — May be plainly disproved. It cannot be proved.
For since no principles of common reason are pretended suffi-
cient to prove it of any man, or of him more than another, it
must be proved by supernatural revelation, if at all. But in
* T1k. Gallican church, &c. t £>u Pin, &e,
508 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD.
the written word of God there is no such thing. Pretences
from thence arc too vain to be refuted or mentioned. And if
any other revelation should be pretended, it will be a new, and
as impossible a task to prove the divinity of that revelation, so
as to infer upon the world an obligation to believe it. Nor
is it necessary to insist upon this ; because it may he plainly
disproved; for ihe same thing cannot be both true and false.
And it sufficiently disproves such a man's infallibility, or the
impossibility of his erring, that it can be evidently proved he
hath erred, As When he hath determined against the express
word of Christ, forbidding them (to take one or two instances
among many) to drink of the eucharistical cup, whom he hath
commanded to drink of it; or (to mention a more important
one) when believers in Christ, or lovers of him, are pronounced
damned, who he hath said shall tot perish, but have everlast-
ing life, and the crown of righteousm ss : or when on the
other hand pardon of sin and eternal life are pretended to be
given to such, whom the evangelical law condemns to death.
When one to whom this privilege hath been asserted to be-
long, hath determined against another, to whom upon the
same grounds it must equally belong. As it is well known in
the Christian church, that pope might be alleged against pope,
and one papal constitution against another. Not to insist on what
might be shewn out of their own history, that the same pope
hath, being so, changed his judgment in a point of doctrine,
and left us to divine when he was the fallible, and when the in-
fallible pope. And again,
When 'there have been determinations against the common un-
corrupfed senses of mankind, as that what their sight, and touch,
and taste assures them is bread, is said to be the flesh of a human
bod v. For if you cannot be sure of what both your own, and the
sound senses of any other man would tell you, you can be sure of
nothing at all : you cannot be sure you see one another, or hear
me speaking to you ; nor be sure when you heard the transform-
ing words, << This is ray body ;" or much less that they were
ever spoken, if you heard them not ; or that that was bread
and' not a stone, or a piece of clay, that is pretended to be
transubstantiated by them. The foundation of all certainty
were upon these terms taken away from among men on
earth ; and upon the same common grounds upon which it is
pretended you ought to believe that which is shewn or offered
you to be the flesh of a man, and not bread any longer, you
must believe or judge the quite contrary, that it is bread still,
and not flesh, and consequently that lie is far from being in*
YIELD YOURSELVES TO COD. 509
fallible, but doth actually err, upon whose authority you are
directed to believe otherwise.
And indeed the claimed infallibility is by this sufficiently-
disproved, that there is no imaginable way of proving it. For
if there were any such thing, it must be by God's own imme-
diate gift and vouchsafement ; how otherwise should a man
be made infallible ? And if so, it must be for an end worthy
of a wise and merciful God ; whereupon for tiie same reason
for which he should have made such a man infallible, he
should Lave made it infallibly certain to other men, that he
hath made him so. Whereas there is no one point wherein
his infallible determination pan be pretended to be necessary,
against which there is not more to be said than against the pre-
tence itself of his iniallibilitv ; and for which there is not. less to
be said than can, with any colour, or without highest and most
just contempt, be said for it. The most weighty thing that I
haye knows alleged is, the great expediency of an infallible
judge. But if we will think that a good way of arguing, that
things are in fact so or so, because we can fancy it would be
better if they were ; we may as well prove that all mankind
are sincere Christians, or there is no sin in the world, nor
ever was, and a thousand tilings besides in the natural world,
that never were or will be, because it appears to us it would
be lor the better. So much is the foolishness of man wiser
than God.
Besides that sanctity must be judged as necessary to the
final salvation and felicity of the souls of men as orthodoxy,
or exemption from doctrinal error, by all, with whom either
Christian religion, or common reason signifies any thing.
For the same reason therefore for which it can be thought ne-
nessary God should have put it into the power of any man to
make others not err, he should have put it equally into his
power to make them holy, to renew and change their hearts
and lives. But what man hath this power ? And one would
reasonably expect, if either were, that both powers should
be lodged in the same man ; which if they should pretend,
who assert the other unto one man, their own histories might
make them blush, unless they can think it more probable that
he can and will effectually sanctify another, and make him
holy, who is himself most infamously impure and unholy,
than that he can secure another from erring in matters of
doctrine, who cannot secure himself. But then it may be
gaid, if such sure lio-ht and <ruidance is not to be found or had
510 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD.
from. one man, it must bo from some community or body of
men in the Christian church. For can it be thought God
should have taken care to settle a religion in the world, on pur-
pose for the saving of men's souls, that yet affords no man any
certainty of being saved by it ?
I answer, yes, there is a certain, undeceiving light, af-
forded by it to the whole body of sincere Christians, sufficient,
and intended not to gratify a vain humour, but to save their
souls, and which you can only, and may confidently expect
by yielding yourselves to God as your Teacher. As it cannot
agree with the absolute perfection of his nature to be himself
deceived in any thing, it can, you may be sure, as little
agree with it to deceive you, or let you mistake your way, in
the things wherein he hath encouraged and induced you to
commit and entrust yourselves to his conduct and guidance.
Will he let a soul wander and be lost, that hath entirely given
u\> itself to be led and taught by him? His word hath at once
expressed to you his nature, and his good-will towards you,
in this case. "Good and upright is the Lord, therefore will
he teach sinners in the way, 1 ' Ps. 2.5. 8. But what sinners ?
the next words tell you, the meek (self- resigned ones, humble,
teachable learners) he will guide in judgment, or with judg-
ment ; (as that particle admits to be read;) he will guide them
judiciously, and surely, so that your hearts need not misgive,
or suspect, or doubt to follow ; " The meek will lie teach his
way," r. 9. Who would not wish and be glad to have such
a Teacher? You shall know (how express is his word!) if
3011 follow on to know the Lord ; for, his going forth is pre-
pared as the morning, Hos. G. 3. You do not need to devise
in the morning how to create your own light, it is prepared
and ready for you ; the sun was made before you were, and
it keeps its course, and so constantly will God's own light
shine to you, without your contrivance or care, for any thing
but to seek, receive it, and be guided by it. Know your ad-
vantage in having such a Teacher.
He will teach you imcarcUj/; even your very hearts, and so
as his instructions shall reach the centre, the inmost of your
spirits. God, that made light to shine out of darkness, hath
shined into our hearts, &c. 2 Cor. 4. 6. And when that holy
good man, had been solacing himself with highest pleasure in
Considering this, that God was his portion, so contentful and
satisfying a one, that he cannot forbear saying, The lines are
fallen to me in pleasant places, and 1 have a goodly heritage,
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 511
(Ps. 16. 5, 6.) he presently adds, " I will bless the Lord, who-
hath given me counsel ;" as though he had said, " I should
never else have thought of such a thing : it had never come
info my mind to think of choosing God for my Portion. I
should have done like the rest of the vain world, have followed
shadows all my days. My reins also instruct me in the night
season. ,T He will so teach you, as to make you teach your-
selves, put an abiding word into you, that shall talk with you
when you sit in your houses, and walk by the way, and when
you lie down, and when you rise up, and whereby you shall
be enabled to commune with your own hearts upon your bods
while others sleep ; and revolve or roll over in your minds,
dictates of life. You will not need to say, Who shall ascend
into heaven, (Dent. SO. 11, 12, &c.) to bring down Christ
from above? or, Who shall descend into the deep, to bring
Christ again from the dead ? for the word will be nigh thee,
not in thy mouth only, but in thine heart, &c. Rom, 10. 6 — 8.
You will have in you an ingrafted word, (Jam. 1. 21.) and the
law of your God will be in your heart, so as none of your
steps snail slide, Ps. S7. 3h This is our Lord's own inter-
pretation of divers words of the prophets, that in the days of
the more general diffusion of holy, vital light, which was to»
be after his own appearance in the world, "They shall be all
taught of God," John 6. 45. that is, so as to have their hearts
inclined towards himself, and drawn to him, as the reference of
these words to those of the foregoing verse shews. Wherein,
O r3 7
Lies your further advantage, That by him 3-011 shall be
taught effectually. Other teaching doth but reach the ear,
or only, at the most, beget some faint notions in the mind,
that you are little the better for; his shall produce real fruit ;
He is the Lord your God who teaches you to profit ; and who
by gentle and unforcible, but by most prevailing insinuations,
shall slide in upon your spirits, win them by light and love,
and allure them to a compliance with what shall be in the end
safe and happy for yourselves. He will instruct you, though
not with a violent, yet with a strong, hand, so as not to lose his
kind design. Others teach you, and leave you what they
found you ; convinced perhaps, but not changed ; unable tor
resist any ill inclination, or your disinclination to that which
was good. Power will accompany his teaching ; a conquer-
ing power, that will secretly constrain and captivate your
hearts; and how pleasant a victory will that be to yourselves f
O the peace and joy you will find springing up within you,
when once you feel yourselves overcome ! The most that a man
512 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD*
can say in you is, what the prophet Samuel once said, (so
great, and so good a man,) " God forbid 1 should sin against
the Lord in ceasing to pray for you ; but 1 will teach you the
good and the right way," 1 Sam. 12.23. He could only shew
that Avay, and pray that God would do the rest ; which im-
plies God only can so teach it you, as to make you walk in it.
1 am not .persuading you to slight human teaching; you will
need it ; and it is among the gifts which your glorious Re-
deemer, being ascended on high, (Ps. 68. IS.) hath given to
men ^ namely, pastors and teachers, Eph. 4. 11. But under-
stand their teaching to be only subordinate, and ministerial.
Without, or against God, you are to call no man master or
teacher upon earth. And thus far their teaching is to be re-
garded, as it agrcesj
With what God doth inwardly teach you, by that common
light ty-hlch shines in every man's own bosom that with a sin-
cere mind attends to it, and which is too little attended to.
Then 1 are truths too commonly held in unrighteousness, seated
generally in the minds and consciences of men: by which,
though the y have not another law, they are a law to themselves ;
■(Rom. 2. 11.) and for the stilling and resisting whereof, the
wrath of God is revealed from heaven against them, ch. I. 18.
And from such truths they might infer others, and where God
affords external helps, come to discern a sure ground where-
upon to understand that what is contained besides in the frame
of Christian doctrine is true; being enabled to judge of the
evidences that prove the whole revelation thereof to be from
God ; and nothing being in itself more evident than that what
he hath revealed is true. And withal God is graciously
pleased to shine into minds that with upright aims set them-
selves to inquire out and understand his mind ; and so farther
light comes to be superadded to that which is common. Now
take heed how you neglect what a man teaches you, agreeably
to that inward light which is already (one way or other) in
your own minds and consciences. Hither in some part, and
in great part, we arc to appeal in our teaching you. So the
more early Christian teachers did ; " Not handling" (say
they) "the word of God deceitfully, but by manifestation of
the truth commending ourselves to every man's conscience in
the sight of God," 2 Cor. 4. 2. In the most deeply fundamen-
tal things that concern your practice every day, we#nay ap-
peal to yourselves, and your own consciences. If we .say to
you, Ought you not to live according to his will that gave
you breath ? should you not above all things fear and love,.
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 513
and trust and obey him that made you and all things ? Should
you not do as you would be done unto ? Should you not take
more care for your immortal souls, than for your mortal flesh ?
You must every one say, u I believe in mine own conscience
this is so." If I appeal to you in the very thing I am speaking
of, should you not yield yourselves to God, -whose creatures
you are? I doubt not you will any of you say, "I think' in my
very conscience 1 should." We have you witnesses against
yourselves, if you will not hear us in such things. And
again, it being a matter very capable of plain proof, that those
writings which we call the Holy Scriptures, were from God,
our teaching ought so far to be regarded by you as,
We can manifest to you that it agrees with the Scriptures.
And we are sure he will never teach you inwardly any tiling con-
trary to what he hath there taught. Will the God of truth say
and unsay the same thing ? That were to overthrow the design.
of all his instructions, and to subvert the authority which he
requires men to reverence. No man could expect to be regarded
on such terms. And by this rule freely examine all that we teach
you, as our Saviour directed the Jews to do, John 5. 39. And
tor the doing whereof, the apostle commended the Bcrean
Christians, Acts 17. 11. And we have here the same advan-
tage at length, though not so immediately, upon your con-
sciences ; which cannot but judge that whatsoever is found in
that word which you confess to be divine, must be most cer-
tainly true. And if within such limits you take the help of
men for your instruction ; having yielded yourselves to God
as your supreme and highest Teacher, you are upon safe
.terms. Only be sincere in listening to his dictates whether in-
ternal or external. Let not a prepossessed heart or vicious in-
clination be their interpreter : " If any man will do his will,
he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God," &c.
John?. 17.
Thirdly, You must consider God, in your yielding your-
selves, as your sovereign Ruler. For to whom you yield
yourselves servants to obey, his servants you are to whom you
obey ; as by v. 16. Though teaching and ruling may be di-
versely conceived of, they cannot be separate in this case. The
nobler and final part of God's teaching you, is teaching you
your duty ; what you are to practise *md do. And so wheu
lie teaches you, he commands you too ; and leaves it not ar-
bitrary to you whether you will be directed by him or no.
What is his by former right, and by after-consent, and self-
■resignation, shall it not be governed by him? if it be a subject
vol.1. 3v
514 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD.
capable of laws and government, as such consent shews it to
be? Your yielding yourselves to God is not a homage but a
mockery, if you do it not with a resolution to receive the law
from his mouth; and that whereinsoever he commands, you
will to your uttermost obey. But in this and the other things
that follow, my limits constrain me unto more brevity. Only
let not this apprehension of God be frightful, yea let it be
amiable to you, as in itself it is, and cannot but be to you, if
you consider the loveliness of his government, the kind design
of it, and how suitable it is to the kindest design ; that it is a
government tirst and principally over minds, purposely intend-
ed to reduce them to a holy and peaceful order, wherein it
cannot but continue them, when that kingdom comes to be
settled there ; which stands in righteousness, peace, and joy in
the Holy Ghost, and all the laws whereof are summed up in
love ; being such also as in the keeping whereof there is great
reward,
Fourthly, You are to consider him, and accordingly to yield
yourself to him as your greatest Benefactor, or rather as your
best and supreme Good. Indeed you cannot sever his being
your Ruler from his being your Benefactor, (more than his be-
ing your Teacher from his beingyour Ruler,) when the tendency
and design of his government are understood. For it is a very
principal part of our felicity to be under his government, and
he doth you the greatest good by ruling you, when otherwise-
nothing is more evident than that you would run yourselves
into the greatest of evil, and soon be most miserable creatures.
You are now so far happy as you are subject to his govern-
ment, and that which it aims at is to make you finally and
completely happy. For it is trie design of his government, not
only to regulate your actions, but your inclinations, and
principally towards himself. You have been alienated from
the life of God, (Eph. 4. IS.) were become strangers to him,
yea and enemies in your very minds;. (Col. 1. 21.) for the
carnal mind is enmity against God, Rom. 8. 7. The very
business of his government is in the first place to alter the
temper of your minds ; for continuing carnal, they neither are
subject to the law of God, uor can be, as the same place tells
you. Therefore if his government take place in you, and you
become subject, you become spiritual, the "law of the Spirit
of life" having now the possession and the power of you. JVor
was it possible he should ever be an effectual Benefactor to you,
without being thus an over-powering Ruler; so do these things
run info one another. To let you have your own will, and
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 515
follow your carnal inclination, and cherish and favour you iii
this course, were to gratify you to your ruin, and concur with,
you to your being for ever miserable: which you may see
plainly if you will understand wherein your true felicity and
blessedness must consist, or consider what was intimated con-
cerning it, in the proposal of this head ; that he is to be your
Benefactor, in being to you himself your supreme and only
satisfying Good. He never doth you good effectually and to
purpose, till he overcome your carnal inclination. For while
that remains, will you ever mind hini? Can you love him,
desire after him, or delight in him ? The first and most fun-
damental law which he lays upon you is, that u you shall love
the Lord your God with all your heart, and soul, and mind,
and might." What will become of you if you cannot obey
this law? This world will shortly be at an end, and you must,
it is like, leave it sooner; you are undone, if your hearts be
not beforehand so framed as that you can savour and take com-
placency in a better and higher Good. You will shortly have
nothing left you but himself; you will be plucked away from
your houses and lands and friends, and all your outward
comforts ; and now in what a case are you, if you can take no
pleasure or satisfaction in God ! You are therefore to yield up
yourself to him in full union, as with your most grateful and
delectable Good ; with this sense possessing your soul, Whom
have I in heaven but thee, or whom on earth can I desire be-
sides thee? Ps. 73. 25.
And thus you are to look upon God in your yielding your-
selves to him. —
You are to yield yourselves to his claim, as your rightful
Owner. — To his instruction, as your undeceiving Teacher. —
To his government, as your gracious, sovereign Ruler. And —
To the enjoyment of him, as your best and most satisfying
Good, or your self-communicating JSenefactor.
(3.) But it also concerns you to have distinct and right
thoughts of the state of your case, and how things are between
him and the sons of men, that you may duly apply yourselves
to him in so great a transaction. The gospel under which you
live tells yOu, lie treats with men in and by a Mediator, his
own Son, who came down into this wretched world of ours, in
great compassion to our miseries, and took our naturej was here
on earth among us as an incarnate God : God manifested in the
flesh. Because we were partakers of flesh and blood, he took
part with us likewise of the same, and in that nature of ours
died for us, to make way that we might yield ourselves to God,
516 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD.
and be ncccpted. No man now comes to the Father but by*
him, John 14. 6. He must be acknowledged with great re-
verence ; and a most profound homage must be rendered to
him. He that denieth the Son hath not the Father, 1 John 2.
23. And it being his pleasure to treat with us bj his Son, and
the case requiring that we apply ourselves to him, we are to
take notice of Rim according to those capacities wherein Scrip-
ture represents him to us. And it represents him agreeably to
those same notions according to Which, we have shewn we are
to consider God the Father in this matter ; so as that Christ
being the Mediator between him and us, when we yield our-
selves to him ultimately, and finally, under the notions that
have been mentioned, we are first to yield ourselves to his Son,
Christ Jesus our Redeemer, under the like notions. For,
[1.] Being to yield ourselves to God as our Owner, we
must know, t\ie Father hath given all things into the hands of
the Son, (John IS. 3.) and that He is Lord of all; (Acts 10.
36.) which, in the first sense, signifies him to be, by the Fa-
ther's constitution, the Owner of all things, even as he is the
Redeemer. For, he therefore died and rose again, that h«
might be Lord of dead and living; (Rom. 14. 9.) that is,
of both worlds ; agreeably to what he himself speaks imme-
diately upon his resurrection from the dead ; All power is given
to me both in heaven and earth, Mat. 28. 18.
[2.] And for those other notions of God under which we
have shewn we are to yield ourselves to him, as our Teacher,
Ruler, and Benefactor, they correspond to that threefold office
of Christ, of which you cannot but have heard much/namely, of
Prophet, King, and Priest ; so that we are to commit ourselves
to him, when we yield ourselves to God, as a Teacher come
forth from God, and who reveals him to us whom no man hath
seen at any time ; as one that must reign over us, and over the
greatest on earth, (Luke 19. 14. and 27. Ps. 2. 6 — 10.) and by
whom we are to be reconciled to God, and restored to the en-
joyment of him, Rom. 5. 11. And because our blind minds
and perverse hearts need light and grace from above, to direct
and incline us hereto, therefore hath the Spirit of the Father
and the Son a great work to do in us to this purpose. Where-
upon we are to yield ourselves to that blessed Spirit also, as our
Fnlightener and Sanctifier ; which our being directed to walk
in the Spirit, (Gal. 5. 25.) and our being told that they that
have not the Spirit of Christ are none of his, (Rom. 8. 9.)
and, that as many as are the sons of God, are led by his Spirit,
(v. 14.) do plainly shew,
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 51?
You see then we are to yield ourselves to God, the Father,
Son, and Holy Ghost, which also our having those great
names, named upon us in our baptism, (as we before told you,)
doth import. And how necessary all this is, you will see, if,
2. We consider how we are to look upon ourselves in this
transaction ; that is,
(1.) We are to consider ourselves as God's creatures, being,
as you have heard, to consider him as our Creator ; and so wo
must reckon we owe ourselves to him, and do but yield him
what we owe, and what was his before. For, how can yon
but be his, who of his mere pleasure hath raised you out of
nothing ?
(2.) We must remember we have been apostate creatures,
such as had fallen, and revolted from him ; and so our yield-
ing ourselves to him, is a giving ourselves back to him, having
injuriously withdrawn and withheld ourselves from him be-
fore. And because the injury was so great as we could never
make any recompense for, therefore it was necessary such a
Mediator should be appointed between God and us, for whose
sake only we can expect to be accepted when we yield our-
selves. So great a Majesty was not to be approached by offend-
ing creatures without so great a Days-man and Peace-maker.
(3.) We must consider ourselves as impure, and every wajr
unfit for the divine presence, service, and converse, and who
did therefore need the power of the Holy Ghost to be put forth
upon us to make us fit ; and that therefore our case required
we should put ourselves into such hands for that purpose.
(4.) We are to consider ourselves as under the gospel, as
sinners invited and called back to God; as such whose case is
not desperate ; or who need to abandon ourselves to ruin,
though we have greatly offended, as if there were no hope.
We are to consider ourselves with distinction from the condi-
tion of other fallen creatures. The angels that fell, and kept
not their first station, have no gospel sent to them to invite
them back, and persuade them again to yield themselves to
God ; you have. Into what a transport should this thought
put you ! how should it mollify you ! oh what a yielding tem-
per and disposition of spirit should it work in you towards this
gracious call, and just challenge, which the great God now
gives you, and makes unto you ! Thus far then you see how
you are to consider God and yourselves in this your yielding-
yourselves to him.
518 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD.
Second Sermon. — You are next to consider,
Secondly, What your yielding yourselves to Goct accord-
ing to such considerations must include, or be accompanied:
with. For it is not reasonable to think you have no more to
mind in this matter, than only what is contained in the bare
abstract nature of such an act ; but looking upon your case in
its circumstances, and considering the state of things between
God and you, it greatly concerns you to see to it, that the
matter be suitably carried to this state of your case. Where-
upon,
1. Your yielding yourselves to God must be accompanied
with very deep and serious repentance. It is a niost peni-
tential surrender you are now to make of yourselves to him ;
for you are to remember that you are but now coming back
out of a state of apostasy from your sovereign and most right-
ful Lord. Yea, though you are but renewing your surrender
of yourselves, having done somewhat herein before, you are
yet to consider this was your case ; and perhaps some never
have yet seriously thought of any such thing, but lived in
this world hitherto as if you were your own, and there were
no Lord over you : O then with what inward remorse, with
what brokenness of heart, with what relentings and self-ac-
cusings should this thing now be done I you should come,
smiting upon the thigh, and saying within yourselves, ii What
have I done ? So long, Lord, have I lived in this world of
thine, which thou madest, and not I, as if I might do in it,
and with myself, what I pleased ! I have usurped upon thy
unquestionable right in me, have lived to myself, and not to
thee ; I am now convinced this was a very undutiful, unlawful
way of living." Lei him hear you (as he once heard Ephraim,
or shall do) bemoaning yourselves, and saying, " Turn me
and I shall be turned ; thou art the Lord my God, &c. Jer. 31.
18, 19. How can you think of yielding yourselves now at length
to God, without being deeply sensible of your having deferred
it so long, and that you have not done it sooner ; and how
great the iniquity was of your former course; and that you
have all this while committed a continual robbery upon him
that gave you breath ? Will a man rob God ? And if you say,
Wherein have I robbed him ? You have robbed him of your-
self ; a greater thing than of tithes and offerings : and this
robbery was sacrilege. For every thing due and devoted to
God, hath a sacredness upon it ; and consider, were you not,
upon his just claim, in your baptism devoted to him? How
4t
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 519
should (his startle you ! you have constantly alienated from
him a sacred thing ! You have been in a continual contest
■with him about one of the highest rights of his sovereignty,
yea and of his Godhead, for to that, nothing is more peculiar,
than to be Lord of all. So that the controversy between him
and yon hath been, Who shall be God ? You have refused
him his own creature. How high a crime was this ! Know
then you have been a great transgressor, a grievous revolter,
and now therefore yield yourself to him with a melting, broken
heart, or you do nothing.
2. It must be done with great deliberation ; not as the mere
effect of a sudden fright. What is done in a rash haste, may-
be as soon undone. Leisurely consider, and take the whole
compass of the case ; weigh with yourselves the mentioned
grounds upon which you are to yield yourselves, and the ends
you are to do it for, that things may be set right between him
and you, that you may return into your own natural place and
station, that you may be again stated in that subordination to
your sovereign Lord which fitly belongs to you ; that he may
have his right which he claims, and you the mercy which you
need. Here is place for much consideration. And when
Israel is complained of as less willing to acknowledge God
for his Owner and Master, than the ox and ass were to ac-
knowledge their's, all this is resolved into this, that the people
did not consider, Isa. 1.
3. It must be done with judgment, which is the effect of
such consideration. When all things have been well weighed
that belong to this case, then let this formed judgment pass,
(t Lord, I ought to be thine, and no other's." Say to him
hereupon, with a convinced judgment and conscience, " O
God, I surrender myself, as now seeing none hath that right
in me that thou hast." When the love of Christ becomes con-
straining upon souls, it is because they thus judge, that they
ought no longer to live to themselves, but to him, Sec. 2 Cor.
5. 14, 15. These things last mentioned will imply a rectified
mind, which must be ingredient into this transaction, else it
will be defective throughout.
4. It must be done with a fulness of consent ; and herein it
chiefly consists, when the soul says, " Lord, I am now most
entirely willing to be thine." This is your yielding yourselves.
And hereby the covenant is struck between God and you ;
which consists in the expressed consent of the parties cove-
nanting in the matters about which the covenant is. This co-
venant is about the parties themselves who covenant, as the
$20 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD.
conjugal covenant is, which resembles it; namely, that they
shall be one another's, God hath expressed his consent in his
word and gospel, making therein the first overture to you.
"When you rejoin your own consent, the tiling is done : this
being the sum of his covenant, " I will be your God, and
you shall be my people," as in many places of Scripture it is
gathered up. When therefore, as God hath openly testified
his willingness to be their God who shall accept and take him
Co be so, you also are willing, and do consent too, you do
now take hold on his covenant, matters arc agreed between
Jiim and you ; and you may-'ake those words as spoken to you
particularly ; I have entered into covenant with thee, and thou
art become mine, Ezek, 16. 8. But then you must take notice
that this is to be done with a full consent, which that is said
to be which determines you, though it be not absolutely per-
fect. No grace in any faculty is perfect in this life. But as
in human affairs, that will is said to be full, which is the
spring of answerable, following actions, so it is here. If a
man have some inclination to this or that, and do it not, it
goes for nothing ; if he do it, his will is said to be full, though
ne have some remaining disinclination. You may be said to
yield yourselves to God, with a full consent, when you live
afterwards as one devoted to him.
5. Your yielding yourselves to God must carry life in it,
as the following words signify ; " Yield yourselves to God, as
those that are alive from the dead." It must be a vital act, and,
have vigour in it. You must be capable of making that true
judgment of your case, as it is v. 11. " of reckoning truly
that you are dead to sin, but alive to God through Jesus
Christ." Do it as feeling life to spring in your souls towards
God in your yielding yourselves to him. What! will you.
offer God a carcass ? not the " living sacrifice," which you
see is required, Rom. 12. 1, Beg earnestly for his own Spirit
of life and power, that may enable you to offer up a living soul
to the living God.
6. There must be faith in your yielding yourselves. For it
is a committing, or intrusting yourselves to God, with the ex-
pectation oi being saved, and made happy by him. So Scrip-
ture speaks of it, 2 Tim. 1. 12. I know whom I have believed,
(or trusted,) and that he is able to keep what I have committed
to him against that day. It is suitable to the gracious nature
of God, to his excellent greatness, to his design, to the me-
diatorship of his Son, to his promise and gospel-covenant,
and to your own necessities, and the exigency of your owe
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD* 5*21
lost, Undone state, that you so yield yourselves to him, as a
poor creature ready to perish, expecting, not for your sake,
but his own, to be accepted, and to rind mercy with him.
You do him the honour which he seeks, and which is most
worthy of a God, the most excellent, and a self-sufficient Be-
ing, when you do thus. You answer the intendment of the
whole gospel-constitution, which bears this inscription, 7b the
praise of the glory of his graee*, &e. It is honourable to him
when you take his word, that they that believe in his Son,
shall not perish, but have everlasting life. You herein set to
your seal that he is true, and the more fully, and with the more
significancy, when upon the credit of it you yield yourselves,
with an assurance that he will not destroy nor reject a poor
creature that yields to him, and casts itself upon his mercy,
7i Another ingredient into this yielding of yourselves must
be love. As faith, in your yielding yourselves to God, aims at
your own welfare and salvation ; so love, in doing it, intends his
service^ and all the duty to him you are capable of doing him.
You mUst be able to give this as the true reason of your act,
and to resolve it into this principle ; " I yield myself to God,
because I love him, and from the unfeigned love I bear to
him ; to tell the world, if there were occasion, he hath cap-
tivated my heart with his excellencies and his lovCj and here-
upon having nothing else, I tender myself to him, to tell him-
self, " Lord, thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I
love thee ; and because I do, I present myself to thee ; it is
all I can do. 1 wish myself ten thousand times better for thy
blessed sake ; and if I had in me all the excellencies of many
thousand angels, I were too mean a thing, and such as nothing
but thy own goodness could count worthy thine acceptance ;
because I love thee, I covet to be near thee, I covet to be
thine, I covet to lead my life with thee, to dwell in thy pre-
sence ; far be it from me to be as without thee in the world as
heretofore. I love thee, O Lord, my strength, because thine
own perfections highly deserve it, and because thou hast heard
my voice, and hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes
from tears, and my feet from falling, and I yield myself to
thee, because I love thee. I make an offer of myself to be
thy servant, thy servant, O Lord, thou hast loosed my bonds ;
and now I desire to bind myself in new ones to thee, that are
never to be loosed." And you can make no doubt but that it
ought to be done therefore with dispositions and a temper suit-
able to the state you are now willing to come into, that of a de-
Yoted servant • namely, t
TtfL. i. 3 x
322 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOl5.
8. With great reverence ami humility. For, consider to
whom you are tendering yourself; to the "high and loftv One
that inhabiteth eternity ■" to him that hath heaven for hi*
throne, and earth for his footstool ; and in comparison of whom
all the inhabitants of the world are but as grasshoppers, and
the nations of the earth as the drop of a bucket, and the du:+t
of the balance, &C. Yea to him against whom you have sin-
ned, and before whose pure eyes, you cannot, in yourself, but
appear most offensively impure ; so that you have reason to be
ashamed and blush to lift up your eyes before him.
9. And yet it surely ought to be with great joy and gladness
of heart, that he hath expressed himself willing to accept such
as you, and that he hath made you willing to yield yourselves.
The very thought should make your heart leap and spring
within you, that he should ever have bespoken such as we
are to yield ourselves to him, when he might have neglected
lis, and let us wander endlessly, without ever looking after us
more. How should it gladden your hearts this day, to have
such a message brought you from the great God, and which
you find is written in his own word, to yield yourselves to him !
Should not your hearts answer with wonder ; "And blessed
Lord ! Art thou willing again to have to do with us, who left
thee having no cause, and who returning can be of no use to
thee !" O blessed be God that we may yield ourselves back
tmto him ! that we are invited and encouraged to it. And you
have cause to bless God, and rejoice, if this day you feel your
heart willing to yield yourselves to him, and become his. Do
you indeed find yourselves willing? You are willing in the day
of his power, Ps. 110. 3. This is the day of his power upon
your hearts. Many are called and refuse ; he often stretches
out his hands, and no man regards, Prov. 1. 24. Perhaps
you have been called upon often before this day to do this
same thing, and neglected it, had no heart to if ; and he might
have said to you, "Now will I never treat with you more; if
you should call, 1 will not hear; if you stretch out your
hands, I will not regard it, but laugh at your destruction, and
mock when your fear comet h." Hut if now he is pleased to
call once more, your hearts do answer ; " Lord, here we are,
we are now ready to surrender ourselves ;" you may conclude
he hath poured out his Spirit upon you. The Spirit of the
Lord is now moving upon this assembly, this is indeed a joy-
ful day, the day which he hath himself made, and you ought
to rejoice and be glad in it, Ps. 118. When the people in
David's days' offered of their substance to God for the service
3
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GODr 523
of his house, it is said, The people rejoiced for that they of-
fered willingly: (1 Chron. 20. 9.) and David, we are told,
blessed God before all the congregation — saying, Thine, O
Lord, is the greatness and the power — But who am I, and
what is my people, that we should be able to offer so willingly
alter this sort ? for all things come of thee, and of thine own
have we given thee. If you are this day willing to offer your-
selves, how much is this a greater thing! and it comes of
him, and it is of his own you are now giving him ; for he had
a most unquestionable right in you before.
]0. You should do it with solemnity. For, have you ever
had a business of greater importance to transact in all your
days ? If you were to dispose of an estate, or a child, would
you not have all things be as express, and clear, as may be ?
and would not they insist to hav *. it so, with whom you deal in
any such affair ? And is (here not a solemnity belonging to all-
such transactions ? especially if you were to dispose of your-
self; as in the conjugal covenant ? though that is to be but
for this short uncertain time of life ; so as that the relation you
enter into to-day, may be by death dissolved and broken off
again to-morrow : how much more explicit, clear, and solemn,
should this your covenanting with God in Christ be, wherein
you are to make over your soul to him, and for eternity ? You
are to become his, under the bond of an everlasting co-
venant. You are entering a relation never to be broken off.
This God is to be your God for ever and ever, and upon the
same terms you are to be his. Is your immortal soul of less
account with you than the temporal concernments of a mortal
child, that you arc placing out but for a term of years that soon
expires ? yea or than a piece of ground, or a horse, or a sheep,
about which how punctual and express are your bargains and
contracts wont to be ? Or are only the matters of your soul,
and wherein you have to do with the great God, to be slight-
ly managed, or to be huddled up in confusion, or to be slid
over in silent intimations ? It is true, that so express and solemn
dealing in yielding and giving up yourselves to God, is not
needful on his part, who understands sincerity without any
expression of yours ; but it is needful on your part, that a deep
and lasting- impression may be made upon your spirits ; which
if you be sincere, you will not only feel yourselves to need,
but your own temper and inclination will prompt you to it ;
accounting you can never be under bonds strong and sure
enough to him. You will not only apprehend necessity, but
will relish and taste pleasure in any such transaction with the
524 YIELD YOURSELVES TO COD.
blessed God, in avouching him to be your God, and your*
self to be his. The more solemn it is, the more grateful it will
bo to you.
Do so then. Fall before his throne ; prostrate yourself at
his footstool ; and having chosen your fit season, when nothing
may interrupt you; and having shut up yourself with him,
pour out your soul to him ; tell him you are now come on pur-
pose, to offer yourselves to him as his own. O that you
would not let this night pass without doing so ! Tell him you
have too long neglected him, and forgotten to whom you be-
longed ; humbly beseech him for his pardon, and that lie will
now accept of you, for your Redeemer's sake, as being through
his grace resolved never to live so great a stranger to him, or
be such a wanderer from him more. And when you have
done so, remember the time ; let it be with you a noted me-
morable day, as you would be sure to keep the day in memory
when you became such a one's servant or tenant, or your
marriage-day. Bcncw this your agreement with God often,
but forget it never. Perhaps some may say, iC But what needs
all this ?" were we not once devoted and given up to God in
baptism ? and is not that sufficient ? To what purpose should
we do again a thing that hath once been so solemnly done ?
But here 1 desire you to consider, Are you never to become
the Lord's by your OAvn choice ? Are you always to be Chris-
tians, only by another's Christianity, not by your own ? And
again, Have you not broken your baptismal vow ? have you
not forgot it for the most part ever since ? I am afraid too
many never think of any such matter at all, that ever they
were devoted to God by others, but only upon such an oc-
casion as this, to make it an excuse that they may never do
such a thing themselves. And consider, were these Christian
Romans on whom the apostle presses this duty never baptized,
think you? Head over the foregoing part of the chapter,
wherein you find him putting them in mind that they had been
baptized into Christ's death, and buried with him in baptism,
and that therefore this was to be an argument to them why
they should yield themselves to God : not why they should not.
Wherefore our way is now plain and open to what we have
further to do, namely,
IT. To apply this practical doctrine, and press the precept
further upon you, which hath been opened to you, and pressed
by parts in some measure already, in our insisting on the se-
veral heads, which you have seen do belong to it; and are
one way or other comprehended in it. Which will therefore
YIELD YOtJRSELVES TO. GOD. 595
tnake Hi is latter part of our work the shorter, and capable of
being; dispatched in the fewer words ; and with blessed effect,
if the Spirit of the living God shall vouchsafe to co-operate,
and deal with your hearts and mine. Shall we then all agree
upon this thing ? Shall we unite in one resolution, " We will
be the Lord's." Shall every one say in his own heart, " For
my part, I will, and so will I, and so will I ?" Come now,
one and all. This is no unlawful confederacy, it is a blessed
combination! Come then, let us join ourselves to the Jo^d in
a perpetual covenant, not to be forgotten, Jer. 50. 5. With,
whatsoever after-solemnity you may renew this obligation
and bond of God upon your souls, as I hope you will do it,
every one apart, in your closets, or in any corner, and you
cannot do it too fully, or too often ; yet let us now all resolve
the thing ; and this assembly make a joint-surrender, and ob-
lation of itself to the great God our sovereign rightful Lord,
through our blessed Redeemer and Mediator, by the eternal
Spirit, (which I hope is breathing and at work among us,) as
one living sacrifice, as all of us, alive from the dead, to be
for ever sacred to him! O blessed assembly! O happy act
and deed ! With how grateful and well-pleasing an odour
will the kindness and dutifulness of this offering ascend,
and be received above ! God will accept, heaven will re-
joice, angels will concur, and gladly fall in with us. We
hereby adjoin ourselves in relation, and in heart and spirit,
" to the general assembly, to the church of the first-born
ones written in heaven, to the innumerable company of an-
gels, and to the spirits of just men made perfect," and
within a little while shall be actually among them. Is it pos-
sible there should be now among us any dissenting vote?
Consider,
I. It is a plain and unquestionable thing you are pressed
unto: a thing that admits of no dispute, and against which
you have nothing to say, and about which you cannot but be-
already convinced. And it is a matter full of danger, and
upon which tremendous consequences depend, to go on in
any practice, or in any neglect, against a conviction of judg-
ment and conscience. For your own heart and conscience
must condemn you if you consider, and it betrays you if you
consider not. How fearful a thing is it for a man to carry his
own doom in his own bosom ! to go up and down the world
with a self-condemning heart, if it be awake, and which if it
be not, yet cannot sleep always, and must awake with the
greater terror at length. And in so plain a case it is most cer-
525 YIELD YOURSELVES TO COD.
tainly God's deputy, and speaks his mind; If our hearts con-
demn us, God is greater than our hearts, &c. 1 John 3. 20.
2. It is that therefore the refusal whereof none of you would
avow. Who among us can have the confidence to stand forth
and say, I will be none of the Lord's ? Would any man be
content to go with this written upon his forehead from day to
day ? And doth not that, signify such a refusal to be a shame-
ful thing ? That must rteedfi bean ill temper of mind which one
would be ashamed any one should know.
3. Anil it is a mean thing to dissemble, to be willing to be
'thought, and counted what we are not, or to do what in truth
we do not.
4. And considering what inspection we are under, it is a
vain thing. For do we not know that "eyes which are as
a flame of fire," behold us, and pierce into our very souls ?
Do we not know i; ail things in us are naked and manifest to
him with whom we have to do?" (Ileb. 4. 12.) and that he
d iscerns it, it' there be any heart among us that is not sincere in
this thing?
5. Consider that this is the very design of the gospel } r ou
live under. What doth it signify or intend, but to recal
apostate creatures back again to God ? What is the Christian
religion you profess, but a state of devotedness to God, under
the conduct and through the mediation of Christ? You frustrate
the gospel, and make your religion a nullity and an empty
name, till you do this.
6. And how will you lift up your heads at last in the great
day ? and before this God the Judge of all ? You cannot now
plead ignorance. If perhaps any among you have not been
formerly so expressly called, and urged to this yielding your-
selves to God ; now you are : and from his own plain word
it is charged upon you. Will not this be remembered here-
after ? What will you say when the great God whose crea-
ture you are, speaks to you with' the voice of thunder, and bids
you gird up your loins, and give him an answer? "Were
you not on such a day, in such a place, demanded and claimed
in my name ? Were you not told, were you not convinced, you
ought to yield yourselves to me ? and yet you did it not. Are
you prepared <o contest with your Maker ? W here is your right,
where is your power, to stand against me in this contest ?"
7. But if you sincerely yield yourselves, the main contro-
versy is at end between the great God and you. All your
former sins are pardoned and done away at once. Those glad
tidings you have often heard that import nothing but "glory to
YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 527
God in the highest, peace on earth, and goodwill towards men,"
plainly shew that the Great God whom yon had offended, hath
no design to destroy yon, but only to make you yield, and
give him back his own. Though you have formerly lived a
wandering life, and been as a vagabond on the earth from your
true Owner, it will be all forgotten. I low readily was the re-
turning prodigal received ! arid so will you. How quiet rest
will you have this night, when upon such terms there is a re-
conciliation between God and you ! You have given him his
own, and he is pleased, and most of all for this, that lie hath
you now to save yon. You were his to destroy before, now
you are his to save. He could easily destroy you against your
will, but it is only with your will, he having made you will-
ing, that he must save you. And his bidding you yield, im-
plies his willingness to do so. O how much of gospel is there
in this invitation to you to yield yourselves to God ! consider
it as the voice of grace. Will he that bids a poor wretch
yield itself, reject or destroy when it doth so ?
8. And how happily may you now live the rest of your days
in this world. You will live under his care, for will he not take
care of his own, those that are of his own house ? An infidel
would. You are now of his family, under his immediate
government, and under his continual blessing. And were you-
now to give an account where you have been to-day, and what
you have been doing : if you say, you have been engaged
this day in a solemn treaty with the Lord of heaven and earth,
about yielding yourselves to him ; and it be further asked,
«' Well, and what was the issue? Have you agreed ?" Must
you, any of you, be obliged by the truth of the case to say,
a No;" astonishing answer ! What! hast thou been treating
with the great God, the God of thy life, and not agreed ?
What, man ! did he demand of thee any unreasonable thing ?
" Only to yield myself." Why that was in all the world the
most reasonable thing. Wretched creature, whither now wilt
thou go ? What wilt thou do with thyself? Where wilt thou
lay thy hated head ? But if you can say, " Blessed be God, I
gladly agreed to the proposal : He gave me the grace not to
de*ny him :" then may it be said this was a good day's work,
and you will have cause to bless God for this day as long as
you have a day to live.
THE END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
Printed by J. Powell &, Co. Crane-court, Fleet-Street, London,
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